II: Shadow Games
[3,961 BBY - Five Years Ago]
[Operation Riptide: + 23m 11s]
Meetra led a squad of riflemen through the winding hallways of the Ahto City capitol building, the sounds of the Mandalorian armed forces sprouting up from every opened doorway. The squad was outfitted with special stealth suits that would do nothing to block a stray blaster bolt, but ensured they could make their way through the tight-knit complex without the clanking of heavy armor giving them away immediately.
Surprise was key; they needed to get to the spectators' balcony just above one of the courtrooms, where intelligence had pegged the Mandalorians' command center in the city to be located. Since their fleet would be busy with Republic forces in orbit, wiping out their main command center would shatter any hopes of an organized retaliation on their part.
It wouldn't make their warriors on the ground any less formidable, but it would tilt the scale in the Republic army's favor just enough to perhaps secure a victory.
Perhaps. It was a well-taught lesson in the Jedi Order: Hardly anything goes according to plan.
Plan for the worst; expect the worst.
Meetra got her first taste of this when a group of Mandalorian soldiers came sprinting around the corner from an adjoining hallway. The group hadn't expected a fight, which was the only thing that saved the squad's lives.
From her left, one of the riflemen came up with a vibroblade, swinging it up through the exposed slit in the lead warrior's armor just below the chin. The others in the squad followed suit, throwing themselves at the group of Crusaders to save on the blasterfire that would surely give away their position.
Another one of the riflemen favored his stun baton, dodging a warrior's line of fire until he was able bring the baton around and against his enemy's chest. The Mandalorian recoiled just long enough for the rifleman to score another hit, and another.
Meetra dealt with the last two, calling on the Force to whip the Crusaders' rifles up into their faceplates, denting their helmets and knocking them out cold. A rifleman moved in to finish the job.
"Hold," Meetra ordered. "They're down. Let's move on."
"They'll just wake up and alert the nearest patrol," he said, aiming his vibroblade at the unconscious bodies. "It's too much of a risk."
"I'll decide that," she snapped. "Stand down, soldier."
The rifleman reluctantly sheathed his blade.
"The Mandalorians don't kill our wounded," she reminded him. "What does that tell you?"
Eyes on the floor, the rifleman fell back in line.
Meetra took a quick look around, ensuring they wouldn't be getting more visitors. "Revan, Malak, and the rest of the army are out there right now, fighting to bring down the defenses. Our job is to take out their command center. That's what I need you all to focus on. Not revenge, not the kill—the mission. Understood?"
The squad quietly nodded.
"Good." Meetra gripped the soldier she'd reprimanded by the shoulder. "We're on our own out here. The mission is all that guides us," she said. "It's all that matters."