Welcome to the short but deadly conflict that is the Battle of Mimban! Good god this is taking ages, but I enjoy writing this, even if it takes an eternity. -Cloaked Writer
Surface of Mimban, 22 BBY
The LAAT Gunships roared through the air, dodging lime green and crimson bolts of lightning that the skies sent down in ragefull spasms, as if the sky's themselves disproved of the dark soldier's mission on the planet, or else it was a dark omen of the danger that the men of the company were to face.
One of those were to indeed come true.
A wayward bolt clipped the wing of one of the gunships, causing it crash into the muddy terrain below, the unstable ground seemingly consuming the ship as soon as it made contact. Tusk shook his head darkly. He would make sure to personally see to it that any man that made it off of this rock would be honored with the name of Skull, even if they didn't get a Pauldron for their efforts.
They landed near the Command Center of the 224'th Attack Battalion, and of Jedi General Losk Maltiaski. And Tusk knew the moment that he laid eyes on the man, that working under him, was going to be a hell worse than anything the droids could throw at them.
"About fucking time you boys showed up. Those droid's are tearing us to shreds, get your men to the front; Lead will tell you what to do; look for the Clone a little bit dirtier than anyone else. I'd signal them to expect you, but our communications are being jammed, so try not to sneak up on them." The Jedi said dismissively to the Commander. He was Human, with a long head of black hair, that was a stark white towards the endings of the strands, giving the impression that quills sprouted from his head. He had a small, short beard that ended abruptly and with sharp, uneven strands of hair, giving the impression that the beard was longer, and had been cut off abruptly and without his consent. His eyes were a sinister and maleficent yellow, suggesting and showing a surprising amount of cruelty in this Jedi's behavior and aura.
"Yes, sir." Tusk said stiffly, before motioning for his men to get back into the gunships. Why didn't they just signal them to head to the front instead of insulting them?
As soon as the troopers were in the ships, they encountered a problem. The winds were too strong to take off, and the gunships couldn't handle it.
"Looks like we will have to march there on foot." Tusk called out to his men over the general com.
"All squads, meet up with your lieutenants and rondevou at the forward command. Double time!"
Tusk and his own troopers had barely entered the muddy jungles when they were set upon by the elements. They lost one soldier to a lightning bolt, and another to a falling branch from one of the gargantuan trees.
It was a death trap.
And they hadn't even met the wildlife.
The squad lost two more men to something small, a canine creature, but smooth and dark. Tusk only caught a glimpse before it dissipated into the gloom, dragging a screaming soldier with him, and leaving the other to bleed out on the jungle floor.
The creature, an Anoobas that had escaped some hunter's trap or hunting reserve years prior, attempted to kill Tusk himself. He broke the creature's neck, then smashed it's skull on a rock. No chances he thought to himself, casting aside the stone as he and his men moved on.
It was sunset when they met the Apex Predator; the Wandrella.
They heard it before they saw it, a loud scratching noise as it slid towards them, the sounds of trees cracking and snapping, and the terrified howls of terror as jungle fauna fled the monster's rampage.
It reared over the treetops, and sent down an eardrum rupturing roar down over their heads, the cream colored body standing out in the jungle.
Blue light flashed in Tusk's eyes as he fired upon the monster. The bolts sank into it's flesh, showing no blast scoring or visible wounds, but it did something, because as soon as they began firing, the monster struck down like a serpent, crushing Clone after Clone.
Tusk blinked, and he was in the creature's mouth, the toothless but powerful mass of muscle enveloping his torso. He jutted out his wrist, and the Electric Current Cable fired out, piercing the giant slug.
It exploded in a shower of white slime and light green gore, staining some of the Clone's white instead of their characteristic Black Plastoid. In the center of the carnage was Tusk, covered head to toe in the white goo.
"Troops. Move out. The next thing that delays us, I will kill with my bare hands." He said venomously, before snapping and pointing in the direction of Lead's last known location.
The troops eventually made it towards the rendezvous point at dawn, and the situation was not a positive one.
The task force had lost over a quarter of their men in the trek alone, and an entire squadron encountered a Droid patrol, and routed an intended Droid pincer moment. But that had only delayed a further confrontation.
The Clone Marshal Commander, Commander Lead, a plainly armored Cline, with the gadgets, Pauldron, and Kama appropriate to his status, but everything was colored white. White Kama, White everything. He wore a dark brown cloak over his armor, unless it was white and was only brown due to mud.
"Tusk! It's good to see you. Our men are holding the line, but we have Spiders and Supers dug in deep, and Commandos have been taking potshots at our night patrols for a week or so now. Station your troops along the front lines, with luck we should finish this by the end of the month." He said, seemingly throwing dates around without a care to this, or any other, world.
"I'm sorry, but did you say a month? We need to finish this now! Hell, we needed this fortress under Republic control last week!" Tusk demanded, at first keeping civil, but his rage exploded out, spittle spraying inside his helmet.
"We just don't have the Intel..."
"That can be remedied. Get your Advanced Recon units out there scouting the terrain. If they need a scent to scare off local wildlife, scrape off some of the shit thats over my men's armor. We encountered a Wandrella on the way here, the smell should keep off any predictors."
The Commander was silent before a moment, before nodding.
"I'll get my troops sent out immediately!" He confirmed. He moved to walk past him, but Tusk caught his shoulder.
"If we stick to my plans, we can end this by sunset. But only if you follow my lead." He said darkly.
"I will follow the orders of the General. If your plan happens to coincide with his direct orders, then sure. No problem." Lead shot back, shaking off the hand.
"And what are his orders, pray tell?" Tusk asked in a challenging tone, crossing his arms.
"To obey his commands to the letter." Lead called back to him over his shoulder.
Tusk growled. He knew of commanders like this.
He had been interested in history, unlike his fellow Clones, particularly Military History. The Wars of the Republic and the Sith Empire, the Mandalorian Wars, and the track records of the CIS military leaders they were one hundred percent certain were allied to The Confederacy. But there was a constant in every war, and every few commander. It was a similarity that was best compared to metallurgy.
When a man was firm, like steel or Cortosis, he could deflect harsh blows and win victories. But if he was too unflexable, then he would be brittle. He could shatter, or snap.
If one was firm enough to refute blows, but retain some level of flexibility, like Plastoid, then the commander would stand strong, and win every battle he entered.
This Jedi and his Marshal Commander were brittle leaders. Tusk would not let the Republic loose Mimban because of a pair of overzealous commanders would refuse to see sense.
His thoughts were interrupted by a gunship landing in the center of this makeshift forward command post.
The doors opened and none other than Jedi General Maltiaski stepped out, his hands folded behind his back and his head pointed upwards as he looked down his nose at every soldier that entered sneer distance. Tusk's eyes narrowed under his helmet at the rude and incompetent commander. And he had another bone to pick with the man, and he addressed this issue with the man himself.
"General, I thought you said that the ground was too muddy to take off from." He asked bluntly. In truth, it was less a question, but more a statement of fact.
"Ah, Rust, wasn't it? Yes, you're gunships happened to land in a more muddy part of our camp, and were unable to take off." The General said calmly. before ducking into a command tent. Tusk followed the man, still not satisfied, only to see that he was ordering the entirety of the command center staff out of the tent.
"I would like some quiet and peace while I work, please tell your men to refrain from disturbing me unless it is the most dire of emergencies." He barked, pointing towards the door. Tusk at first attempted to fight the wave of soldiers, but he soon gave up and followed them out. He took a deep breath. Keep calm, soldier. Keep calm. Don't get angry. He told himself as he sat on a crate a short distance from the command tent. He was about to remove his helmet and consume a ration pack, when his personal comlink chimed.
The noise startled him for two reasons. The first, he was not expecting it. The second, that communications were supposedly jammed!
He pressed a finger to his ear and spoke in a quiet tone.
"Who is this?"
"Sir, this is Boar from the Central Command Center, Gunship pilot of the 300th. Someone did sabotage the 224th communications, from inside the camp!"
"What?" Tusk said, sitting up.
"There is a traitor down there sir, only 300th comlinks are active, you have to inform the General!" Boar said frantically.
"The Gunships managed to pull free of the mud and are on the way with some remaining soldiers, but you need to tell him immediately so an investigation can get underway.
"Acknowledged, trooper. I'll get tell the General. Tusk out." Tusk finished, lifting his hand from his helmet and sighing.
Only in the most dire of emergencies Tusk thought grimly. Well, this was an emergency. the 501st defense of Christophsis nearly went under because of one man; the entire offensive was at risk. Put what he had against the General and his attitude, he was a Jedi and the Jedi were powerful. He needed his help.
He strode towards the tent and reached out with a gloved hand, but hesitated. Inside, the General was speaking, and what he just uttered was incredible.
"But where will your men be, Commander? I do not want my men looking for droids where there truly are troops sitting there."
Tusk's eyes narrowed, and that hand drifted towards his helmet entente, setting it to Holorecord, and drifted the device through the folds in the canvas.
And there it was, naked before Tusk's eyes. The Jedi General, speaking to a Tactial Droid's hologram.
[Our forces will be on the southern side of the Jungle, and within the Canyon. I calculate, very few of your men will see the trap in the low visibility, and be able to assume that it was 'mere luck'] The droid's droning voice continued, gesturing to a vertical holomap.
Tusk stepped back, hardly daring to breath. He closed down the holorecording and saved it to a Holo Disk. He then clipped the object in his belt, and strode off at a fast pace. He needed to find Lead.
General Losk Maltiaski closed down the hologram, a small smile on his face. When his troops were slaughtered, he would join the Separatists and be a new Commander for the Confederacy. He turned and reached to pull back the tarp of the tent. When he did, his entire world fell apart.
The sunlight of the setting sun filtered into the tent as both flaps were pulled open, and Tusk stood with his hands on his hips, his shadow that of a giant.
"General, you are relived of duty."
"Mutiny, Commander? You won't escape this camp alive." Losk said with a dark smile.
"Oh, not when every Clone in the 224th knows of your betrayal." Tusk said, stepping aside and revealing Lead and his troops, DC-15A blasters raised and held in an attack stance.
"Come quietly, traitor!" Lead shouted, his voice livid.
The Jedi lowered his head, rage seething from him. If there were Jedi present, then they would have sensed it. But these were Clones.
Pathetic.
Little.
Clones.
The blue blade was ignited in a flash, and he dove forward to slash at the dark Commander who had discovered his plot.
Tusk sidestepped the being, who was too blinded by his rage to anticipate the Clone's simple maneuver. He drew a pistol, and fired. His eyes widened as a live round fired from the blaster and burned into the being's back, causing him to collapse to the ground. He let out one last gasp of air, then lay still. Tusk looked at his weapon, shocked.
His hand shook as he planted the weapon back into his holster, and let out a shuddering breath.
He felt a hand on his shoulder, and saw Lead at his side.
"It's alright, sir. He was going to kill you; better him than you, you know?" He said, attempting to reassure him.
But that was not what troubled him.
What troubled him was that the Jedi had died so easily. One shot to the back, one lucky shot with a gun that he was sure was set on stun.
If all the Jedi died this easily... Then the Grand Army of the Republic was in a perpetual state of grave danger.
The mission was completed in a matter of hours. With the information provided from the Hologram of the T series Tactical Droid lead to the utter destruction the droid forces, and the capture of the Planet for the Republic.
But the victory was bittersweet.
For Tusk had seen the true side of the Jedi.
And he was not pleased.
That's the end of this one! These are intended to show the differing perspectives of the different Clone Commanders, and will eventually help them make some very important decisions. The next story will show the esteemed General Shard and his adventures on Coruscant. -Cloaked Writer.