Chapter 37: Partab durbatulûk
(Earlier...)
"Alright Jex let's get a move on shall we!" Jex glanced over his right as his copilot came from the back of the gunship with a clattering of his heavy boots against the cold metal floor of the ship.
"What took you?'" His copilot, Drag as he was known plopped down in the seat beside him and began buckling in. Though to Jex's question he sighed heavily and shook his head.
"We got ourselves a real career maker this time. Looks like somebody back on Coruscant wants something brought back. I had to contain the precious cargo. We've gotta head up to the fleet for entry into cold storage. One of us has to go along for check-in. That, and we're not allowed to leave the karking container unattended until it's actually processed into cold storage."
"Beautiful." Jex intoned as he also shook his head and robotically began snapping switches and priming his LAAT for liftoff. He too strapped himself in as Drag pulled his helmet off and rustled his sweaty and matted black hair.
"Kriff knows what anyone back on the capitol would need from this low-tech dump, but hey we don't ask right?"
"That's right. Too right." Jex replied in monotone a voice as the LAAT hummed with activation and the interior began buzzing and lowly rumbling with electronic life.
"Though, I think a nice few away from this planet might be nice." Jex began without turning Drag's way.
"We've been running enough boys back and forth between this field and the command post. It'd be nice to just float in orbit for a bit. Maybe take a five minute breather aboard the Righteous." He offered somewhat excitedly though Drag groaned and offered a sympathetic half smile.
"Sadly we aren't meant for the Righteous. Orders are for cold storage encasement aboard the Triumphant Glory." Jex rolled his eyes behind his helmet, but nodded.
"Ah well. Still, we could get a bit of a rest out of it."
"Here's hoping." Drag nodded and leaned into his seat as Jex silently finished the routine for starting the LAAT. The entry doors closed with a metal scratch and then sucking hiss behind them. The ship rocked and the ground beneath them whirled as the ship threw up dirt around them. Troopers outside began pulling away or committing to their duties without hardly noticing them at all. Save for the one nameless trooper who silently motioned to them the signal that they were clear for takeoff. Jex threw him a single thumbs up as the LAAT warbled off the ground, its rocket turrets spooling on its own processes. Though of course they had no use for the moment. Within a few seconds the ship fully lifted off the ground and angled around and sped off through the air with a low rumbling roar sounding through the air as it did.
Their ship flew seamlessly through the air. The outward warble allowing for a slight rumble in line with it inside of the ship. The two clones sat in silence for a time. Jex idly curving and twisting his steering mechanism to keep the ship steady and maintain course without any autopilot engagement, for now at least. They would be nearing the mountain range they'd gotten used to these last few hours, and from there it be an upward turn towards orbit as protocol dictated. On this planet anyways.
Drag sighed and leaned back into his seat as the humming alone interrupted the silence between them. He idly glanced Jex's way and Jex in kind would notice and simply nod his way. A form of engagement or acknowledgment between two men. Drag cast him a single upwards nod and the men remained in silence for a moment more before Drag spoke up.
"You part of the main battle?"
"Oh yeah. I was running aerial low ground over in the...northwest part of the battle I think. The Seps' had a good number of Vultures harassing everyone and some Hyenas. Other 'LAATies' in the air were shot down pretty quickly. So, I suppose I'm one of the lucky ones."
"That you are Jex." Drag replied nodding happily.
"You see those big creatures?"
"Yeah I did. Admittedly I've seen weirder in the galaxy. Acklays for one, but I don't recall giant birds swooping down to help us out before. That's a new one."
"You think it was on purpose?" Jex asked.
"Can't imagine it wasn't. We got orders to not engage any of em' from General Kenobi, so safe to say someone can speak bird around these parts." Drag chuckled lowly as both men shared smirks on their faces, before the silence took hold for another moment.
"I was over on the southern flank," Drag began without prompt, but both men were used to these alleviating recollections while piloting together by this point.
"Yeah?" Jex interjected.
"Yeah, we got a nasty licking. The 217th took a sizable hit during the last battle, The one in that field in front of the big white city. You know right next to the command post?"
"Right, right." Jex nodded as he gave a subtle turn left of his steering mechanism.
"During trooper drops I had been made copilot of an LAAT belonging to the 217th. Not sure where we got mixed up back at the CP, but I wasn't gonna complain."
"Right." Jex nodded.
"Anyway, we get a small squad of the 217th's 'Nexu-Company' on the field, and as soon as the doors open we're smothered with blaster fire from an already deploying B1 transport. The boys take out most of the ground units, but the medic gets hit in his right eye. Blaster bolt went right through the armor." Jex could only 'tsk' and shake his head. Not that it was some great revelation that troopers, his fellow pod-brothers, died in battle. Rather, it was so common all one could do was 'tsk' at news of another death. No matter how tame or gruesome.
"So, I have some medical training right. So, I volunteer to get one of the other boys, a trooper who fell off and cracked one of his legs against a boulder trying to avoid bolts, I volunteer to take a look. Cause' he's screaming bloody murder right outside while we have bolts incoming and some heavy cannon fire from the droid transport itself."
"Right." Was all Jex need say.
"I get outside, and for whatever reason the pilot thinks now is a good time to pull off soil. I wasn't really in the mood to scream at him over the comms so I just continue peeling the troopers leg armor off while the rest of Nexu-Company keep the droids off me. Not ten seconds later the ground gets pelted by cannon fire as three Vultures swoop in and blast the LAAT apart about fifteen feet away from us."
"Force..." Jex now seemed a bit more animated. His talk earlier of Vultures now seeming a bit tame considering his copilot had seen more than his share in the fighting.
"We got metal bits and shards flying around us and on top of us. We also have to deal with several massive booms as the karking rocket bay collapses unscathed to the ground only to the be hit by a rouge artillery shell. All the rockets proceed to pop off and shoot a massive crater in the ground." Drag went on. He got quiet for a moment though and Jex tilted his head his copilot's way. The clones face stoic and seemingly unchanged. His dark eyes somewhat glassy and distant as they danced about from left to right.
"You good?" Drag's eyes finally seemed to blink and he took in a deep nasally breath before glancing Jex's way.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. Just recollecting some of what happened." He trailed off for another moment.
"It's funny, I can't recall what the kriff happens at certain points in the battle until I tell ya' the story." Jex nodded as he turned back forwards and allowed the dropship to drift back towards the planetary east.
"Like what mate?" Jex inquired as Drag shifted in his seat and rubbed the back of his neck wearily.
"Well the crater gets made by the blasted rockets and the Vultures all scream overhead thrusting wind around us, and tossing the debris and smoke from before over us all some more. I got the poor bugger beneath me, my body shielding his now exposed leg, and he's flailing a bit. Ya'know, I think something finally broke up here." Drag tapped his right pointer finger to his temple and Jex nodded solemnly. It wasn't unheard of, that a trooper could very well lose his...well his mind. The idea of that happening in a battle sent a nasty chill through Jex before Drag began again.
"He's screaming and flailing, I have about seven other troopers or more around me also hit and trying to stay in the fight as we got B1's running up the small incline towards us. Platoon leader, a Captain, I don't remember his designation, was hit by the rocket detonation. Poor bastard...we found bits of him buried in the crater. Bits at least."
"Force..." Again was all Jex could muster.
"I get out my own little blaster pistol and begin firing at my right as a squad of B1's rounded a bend in the incline and fire on our flank. Their bolts pelt a sergeant, but he's able to pull through and shoots back taking most of em' down. That doesn't really help when we got two of those karking B2's menacing up with the B1's. I...did always hate how slow they walk when they feel like it."
"I guess they wanted to give them that 'spooky' serial killer vibe. Like from one of them piss poor Corellian horror HoloFilms." Jex offered with a smirk, and luckily Drag chuckled and nodded.
"Yeah...well that turned out not to be the worst part."
"Oh yeah? Get droideka's or some Magnaguards?" Jex asked sarcastically with a chuckle still about him. Gore, and death, the death and destruction would surely have put others into no mood to laugh. However, they weren't actively part of it. Laughing was all one could do, so Jex saw it, and so many others of his brothers and even the standard born recruits saw it. That's why Drag paid his laughing no mind as both men went on.
"Kriff, the B2's are coming round the incline and what do they have with em' but some of those ugly local jackals!"
"Oh, perfect." Jex shook his head as that nasty barbed scythe-blade from before flashed through his mind.
"They're all snarling and grunting and squealing like...well likes a bunch of nerfs. They charge at us while the B2's are shooting at us and before we can fully get a hold of ourselves the nasty buggers are hacking...and slashing. The sergeant is dead within a few seconds. At least I hope so with what they were using." Once again those jagged hooked weapons come to Jex's mind as Drag went on, and thoughts of what this battle may have looked like flowed across his mind in kind. A sickly and frowned look crossed his face as he thought on.
"What about the rest of you?"
"Huh?" Drag hummed quizzically.
"You know, how did you survive that hellhole?"
"Oh right, right. No, yeah we're getting torn apart out there and swamped within a few more seconds by the B1's who've been let up on by the boys trying to keep the others at bay. And that's when I saw em.'"
"Saw who?" Jex immediately asked with a furrowed brow and slight turn of the LAAT control gear.
"Well one of those birds! The shadow of it I saw first. Then heard this giant squawk before this blur of brown in my visor hit me and I heard before seeing metal crash and crunch flying up into the air. The locals hollered and cried and before long they ran away leaving those of us left to deal with the B2's...took me until then to realize the lad under me had stopped flailing. Guess he got pelted by a few bolts without me noticing during the chaos." His voice went low as he intoned and Jex sighed lowly as he once again nodded.
"So...this must've been a bit later in the battle then? Since those beasts didn't show up in he start I mean?"
"Huh? Oh yeah, right. I had been part of the troop transport and support wing for a while when that medic got hit. I guess in a way I'm lucky."
"Yeah, lucky." Jex intoned as silence once more passed over the two. Both undoubtedly ruminating over the memories of that battle. Both of them going into places neither knew about, but could empathize with. Perhaps that's why they were quiet. Both knew what the other was thinking, and knew there wasn't anything else need be said about it. Not now anyways. Not about the usual day ins and outs of warfare.
"Transport 334 please audibly send transponder codes." Both men sat up a bit more stiffly as the transmission rung in their ears. Jex moved first and snapped his fingers over his computer console and began relaying the desired codes the nameless and faceless voice required of them.
"Security code vocal authentication, 345567224-Aurek." Another silence passed over them save for the endless warble of the flying gunship.
"Copy that Transport 334. You are cleared for command-post airspace entry. Maintain altitude, and keep to a southeast course along current vector. Ascension point has been marked on your terminal." Jex leaned forwards and noted the 'ascension' point as dictated by those brains running the CP. He cocked a curious brow and leaned back with a huff.
"Command, why am I only allowed to ascend at the halfway marker to the CP?"
"Security concerns, Captain." Was the quick and terse response from the trooper on the opposite side of their comms.
"Do I look like an HMP over radar scans? Are we even using com-scan on planet?"
"That's a big fat affirmative, transport 334. However, protocol dictates for this world that a local ground force make visible contact with you before your ascension. Seeing as the Separatists lack any known means of escaping orbit other than gunship it stands to reason we ensure that we keep localized enemy forces localized. Beyond that I recommend you take any such future grievances up with General's Kenobi, Skywalker, Koon or Fisto." Jex fought the urge to roll his eyes and loosed another guttural throaty sigh.
"Copy command, heading for the ascension point now." He snapped at the comms and shook his head in clear annoyance. Though Drag didn't see what the point of getting all fussy was about since all they had to do was climb for orbit at a set destination rather than at their leisure. A bit much security wise? Yeah, but oh well in his mind. Jex always had been oddly temperamental about certain Coruscant mandated protocols when they were activated. Well, he was sometimes temperamental in general, but nothing that bad really. So, silence again came over them save for that warbling hum.
"Tell me Jex," Drag began attempting to get his comrades mind off of the admittedly terse, command post trooper.
"Tell ya' what?"
"Have you ever wondered what we'll be doing after the war?"
"What do you mean?" Jex asked sounding legitimately confused and glancing Drag's way still managing to expertly steer the gunship as he did.
"You know...I've heard some of the boys imagining this and that...wondering what they could do after the war. Not everyone thinks like em' of course. Some I think are a little to freely minded and hardly remember the training sims and programs on Kamino."
"How so?" Jex asked without actually answering the question posed.
"Some of the boys think they can leave the army. Maybe find a nice backwater, most of them think somewhere in the Mandalore Sector of course, and settle. Maybe find an agreeable Mando woman and have a little womp rat pack of their own."
"And what do you think?" Jex asked still steering.
"Well..." Drag began with a mild sigh.
"I think it's a nice idea, but..."
"But stupid and unlikely." Jex offered a bit more harshly than Drag had been expecting. He turned his way with an obviously confused brow as Jex grumbled a sigh all his own.
"Look at us Drag, we're clones."
"And?" Drag asked.
"We're made for one purpose and one purpose only. To fight, and kill. Do you even remember your kriffing 'childhood?'"
"Well...it only lasted a few-"
"Exactly." Jex cut him off.
"How can you or anyone of the boys expect to raise a runt their own if they can't even recall what it was like to be a kid? Secondly, what makes you or any of the others think women, normal born and raised women, would be interested in settling down with one of us? So that she can confuse one of us for any other number of pod-brothers? What, we all gonna have children near genetic identical in makeup to the point of not only being cousins but half siblings all around?! Sounds like a recipe for disappointment to me."
"Sounds like you've got a bone to pick with someone to me." Drag offered causing Jex to raise his right hand as if to accentuate a yell, but the trooper contained himself at the last minute.
"I ain't gotta bone to pick with no one, Drag! I just think it's a little assumptive on everyone's part to think we can or could or should be allowed to have and get this or that. Just because we were made for the Republic do you think they'd want us running off the second the war is over? You think the civies would be all too happy to integrate a bunch of look-alikes into the communities across the galaxy? Clones who not only were born and raised to genetically die off after their purpose has been essentially fulfilled, but who may be cracked up here as well!" Jex tapped his helmet mirroring what Drag had done before during his story of the battle.
"You as well as I have heard the stories of what's been planned for us. You know as well as I do that our 'incensed' retirement is the only plan the Republic has for us post-war if we ever get there."
"Yeah..." Drag was inclined to intone his agreement. The word had been out for some time. The higher ups in the Republic had been planning for some time with what to do with any clone left overs should the war come to an end. Backwaters were a credit a plenty in the galaxy. A few of them were even know, during wartime being dug up and built over by this and that Republic contract corporation. All to make nice little communities for the 'veterans' of the Clone Wars after said war was over. Nice and put away where they could all do whatever government sponsored and implemented job was best suited for them out of public mind and public eye. Of course he had a sour taste in his mouth over it, but what could he do? If that's what the Republic wanted, then by the directives crammed into his head since 'conception' he'd follow them. As a good soldier, which he damn well thought himself to be. Though, maybe Jex was a little more bitter than himself, so he thought.
"Well...you're probably right." Drag offered sounding a little defeated. Jex turned his way, and his helmet rolled as Jex seemed to grumble behind his mask.
"Look, I ain't saying we can't do anything after all this...is over, but don't get your hopes up for fantasy, Drag. The best we can hope for is a little peace and karking quiet. I want a ranch." Drag scoffed a laugh turning Jex's way who shrugged.
"A what?"
"A ranch, you know, someplace to raise some type of cattle."
"Really?!" Drag asked sounding flabbergasted.
"Yeah, what's wrong with that?"
"No, nothing, but I just...you have never come off to me as the herd raising kind." Jex again shrugged.
"I have learned throughout the course of these years that I prefer the company of the boys, and animals more to the civies and political types say on Coruscant. What I want after the war is a little hut on one of those retiree worlds, and a plot of land to raise my beasts, field my crops if I can, and be left alone by all the noise. I don't ever wanna fly one of these ugly bastards again let me tell you." Jex declared smacking the steering control of the gunship.
"And let me tell you, command finds out any clone's shacked up with a woman and they're gonna blow a converter let me tell you. Best leave that nonsense where it belongs."
"And where's that?" Drag asked with another chortle.
"In all those special HoloVids you keep under your bunk." Drag in an instant grabbed a nearby empty ammo packet and threw it at Jex's head who ducked and let loose a hearty laugh all own, and Drag quickly joined in as the two men felt a sense of alleviation cross the both of them.
Another silence followed as both men calmed their laughing down, and restfully looked out of their respective viewports as the planet below zoomed under and by them. They were nearing the ascension point, and Drag took just a minute to peer out the left viewport towards those nasty jagged mountains that always seemed shadow cast. It was subtle, but his mood felt just a little darkened just by looking at them. Nasty buggers those mountains.
"Well," He began plopping down again as Jex maneuvered the dropship to meet the intended ground side observation standards.
"Your idea doesn't sound too bad."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." Drag nodded.
"Maybe I'll get myself a ranch all my own next to yours."
"Yeah, whoever said I wanted to see your ugly mug again?" Drag waved him off.
"Well you look in the mirror plenty Jex, so essentially you see me everyday."
"Too right, you ugly bugger." Jex went on and Drag gain waved him off with a halfhearted scoff.
"Transport 334, this is Check-In Station 1, please relay transponder codes again for secondary verification and bank ship ten degrees to your starboard." Jex began the procedure as instructed from the obvious clone voice that broke into the gunship with sharp, and somewhat staticsuddenness.
"Relaying transponder code as follows: security code vocal authentication, 345567224-Aurek. Requiring authorization for upwards orbital ascension for transport of precious cargo for cold storage." Jex intoned in monotone. Silence followed for a moment and Drag tapped at his armored knee in boredom, awaiting the inevitable go-ahead.
"Codes have been authenticated Transport 334, and visible check in standards met. You are free for ascension at the designated waypoint. You are good to climb."
"Copy, Check-In 1." Jex snapped at the comms unit and banked his ship back into forward position and pushed the ship along the main river beneath them that was set as their waypoint marker.
"Alright, let's get this climb done and over with." Jex intoned as the ship began sounding off as its Captain began pulling the wheel control back allowing for the vertical ascent towards orbit. The ship began to rumble with the normal ascension jitters expected of a climbing vessel. Drag clenched his hands onto his armrests and leaned back. Climbs always put him more on edge than descents. Meanwhile Jex remained firmly planted forwards as the sky came before them and flew past them.
"Near orbital break in thirty seconds mark." Jex reported mostly to himself. The ship gave another hard rattle and caused both clones to turn to one another.
"The kriff was that?" Drag asked a little more shaky than normal.
"Don't know, sounded like a rear thruster lurch. Should correct its-" Another loud clanging of metal sounded behind the both of them causing Drag to yank himself to look beyond his seat into the darkness of their hold.
"That didn't sound like a thruster lurch."
"The kriff..." Jex intoned turning back and pushing the control forwards and forcing the LAAT into a drag and stop near break of orbit.
"Whoa, who what are you doing?"
"Hold your straps alright! I'm gonna level out before we reach the orbital break point. If we got a thruster malfunction best relay to the fleet before we kill ourselves for a tow."
"Oh...yeah, right...good idea." Drag went on, the jitters still getting at him.
Another loud and audible hiss sounded and caused both men to jump in their seats just as Jex pushed the ship into a stable position in air.
"Alright, now that really doesn't sound right."
"Kriff, let me uh...yeah let me check." Drag intoned as he grabbed at his helmet and planted it atop his head and sealed it to his armor apparatus.
"Check the panels for any atmo' leaks. Last thing we want is sudden decompression."
"Copy that." Drag replied unbuckling himself and pushing upwards into a slightly unsteady stand. He grabbed instinctively at his blaster rifle nestled next to his seat and pushed back into the hold. That seemed darker than normal, but Drag shook himself. He was letting the climb get to him again was all...
His boot scuffled up against something and caused him to stumble slightly.
"Ah kriff me."
"What is it?!" Jex called back over shoulder. Drag glanced around and noted the hold was in fact darker than normal...he looked to the lights and noted one sparking.
"Drag?!" He ignored Jex and clicked on his rifles light fixture and turned it downwards to see his boot atop a fallen blaster rifle. He turned to the on-ship wall mount for a full rack of additional rifles and saw them all fallen over and in a varying display of disarray.
"We've got a blown light and some of the rifles fell off their hinges."
"See any scorch marks?"
"You hear any shots on the ascent?"
"Negative, but we were rattling pretty good." Drag shrugged his head and sighed, both trying to calm himself and relenting to Jex's point.
"Give me a second to check." Drag called and kicked the rifle at his foot aside with ease. He set his light around the hold noting the doors seemed secured and showed no atmosphere leakage. He pointed his rifle towards their single piece of cargo he had himself strapped in. Now that brought a scowl to his face as he approached.
"Kriff..." He intoned lowly as he closed in on it and went to his knee. His hands ran along what he now saw had made the hissing noise from earlier.
"Kriffing coolant leak. No...not just a leak." He continued on to himself noting the entire capsule looked cracked.
"What in the wor-" A single sound burst out and in an instant Drag, one of many clone troopers crashed downwards at his right. His body having gone limp, a scorching burn in his helmet from where a single blaster bolt hit and killed him.
"Drag! Drag! The kriff was that?!" Jex howled as he yanked at his straps and pulled at his blaster rifle, knowing when he heard a blaster bolt fire off. He made to push up, but then he felt it. He paused and froze where he sat as his eyes glanced ever so slightly to his right. A blaster barrel was aimed directly at his helmet and past it, his forehead. The person holding it breathed lowly and nearly inaudible beside him though was covered in the shadow of the hold behind him.
"Bang." With that a bolt rung out and the clone was thrashed to his left and went limp. All dreams, and ideas, all thought snuffed out.
His body was soon released from his seat, and dragged easily back into the hold and thrown beside the other trooper of no regard or renown beside the damaged capsule. The blaster used to kill them thrown atop them like kindling to a fire as the person wielding it fell into the seat of the pilot and grasped its controls. Snapping but one of a few keys along the console, the ship ceased any and all transmission of position. The ship was banked around and twisted in air, before it began a slow descent, back towards Ardas surface. Its destination already known in the mind of its pilot.
It was like a sound of thunder when the first one rumbled into view. The cub had looked upwards, hearing from others among the tribes climbing high in the wroshyr trees. There in his view he beheld a thing of glistening dull metal that shone brighter than the day star that ever loomed. His father had at once grabbed him and howled for him to hurry along as the entire tribe was up in arms, for a call had been sent from the mighty Chieftain Tarfful himself. Their Prince was dead by droid machinations and war had come to Kashyyyk.
A looming Providence-class cried in a harsh warble over the one of many villages, before another cracking sound of thunder rung out and another ship blasted into orbit followed by another. Two Munificent-classes and a sudden swarm howled in the skies of the green world as Vultures and Hyenas escorted dozens of transports down planet side. Among them came thundering onto the planet a host of Trandoshan vessels, and the scaly lizards came bounding forth into the trees with blasters and slug-throwers raised. For every Wookiee that came in sight they unleashed a torrent of fire upon them pelting and singing fur as the beasts cried and crowded to fight these beastly enemies of old as the machine men that now allied with them followed and also brought them low in a hail of burning bolt fire. High villages were assailed as Trandoshan mercenaries called into service by their home world fell into the cities firing, killing the males who fought with great bravery and desperation to defend their cubs and mates.
Yet, even still they would fall with a thousand burning holes riddled across their furry forms. Their mates fell into the depths of the great forests with their cubs as droids and Trandoshans deployed burn units and began to tear the forests down in their crusade to subjugate these beasts and their planet. For, too long they waited, forcing the Confederacy to see if they would join, and in the end they made their choice with their inaction. Much to the delight of the Trandoshan allies of the Confederacy of Independent Systems. Cubs were ripped from their mothers, dying and screaming and put into pens or put to the blaster there and then as every male across the world received news, and saw the great ships loom overhead and they went off to defend their homeworld and their homeland. As a plea for help was sent as a cry to the Galactic Senate of the Republic. A single squad of commandos would land planet side now in operation to undermine this separatists threat and assess what the situation was on planet.
While a white and ghostly metallic leg stepped foot onto Kashyyyk. With a hateful glare, Grievous looked out across this little insignificant world. His yellow eyes noting the burnt wood, and dead clumps of mound, of flesh that signaled the dead beasts who had for too long sat neutral to the war playing still across this galaxy. The softness of the Separatists Council had seen the Wookiee's grow complacent, and he would rectify that.
"Kill every Wookiee who does not submit on their knees! Leave those to the Trandoshans, and burn the forests wholesale if need be!" he instructed with an audible hiss to his Magnaguard set beside him who bowed awkwardly and turned to instruct the Trandoshans who were scattering from their camp.
He clanged his beastly metal claws along the wooden ground beneath him and clasped his boney white fingers behind his back, waving his cloak as he did. For too long the galaxy had been without him, and the terror he so righteously imparted upon them for the rot and sickness that was the Republic and its Jedi Order. The Republic would send someone to see this massacre, and they would respond.
And when they did, they will hear that Grievous was here. Grievous had come to Kashyyyk, and the galaxy would tremble in kind.
Obi-Wan had taken off pretty quickly after the meeting had come to an end. Everyone pretty much went their separate ways for, what Anakin was sure, was for their own reasons. The day pretty much went by around him, and even with Obi-Wan's words and Aragorn's subtle and not so subtle assurances, Anakin felt himself muddled and restrained on the inside. His eyes opened, and his blue orbs looked out into the distance. The shadowy mountains thundered with orange crackling fire and his nostrils flared as that same uncontrollable rage prickled at his insides.
A groan grumbled from between his lips and he closed his eyes again and felt his hands grasp and dig into his knees from where he sat. his forehead contorted into a mess of strain and pent up emotion as he breathed heavily, in and out, trying to center himself. Something he'd been trying to do all day. He had succeeded in letting his weariness go into the Force, well mostly. He still felt like he was falling asleep every twenty or so minutes. He again labored a breath and opened his eyes allowing himself to lean forwards and slump his hands in front of himself as he somewhat painfully arched his back.
He looked to his right and left noting the tower guards standing where they had been pretty much all day. Noting or not noticing him he didn't know, but he was happy, or at least appreciative that they hadn't stopped him from deciding to sit under this dead white tree to meditate. Its presence in the Force, was oddly lighter than he had expected. Dead things usually left an emptiness, or at the least a memory in their passing since replaced by something new, but this tree somehow retained a presence of light that Anakin couldn't put his finger on. Though, knowing this world, he was sure there was more to this tree and its importance than he immediately knew, or could recall. He was sure Gandalf probably talked about it at some point, and like an idiot, he didn't remember.
He let his metal hand rub at the back of his neck and through the messy locks of blonde hair of his as he snapped his eyes open and shut several times to both keep the endless sleepiness at bay, and force himself into a more awakened state from his meditations.
"Force, this is more Obi-Wan's thing." He lamented crawling up into a stand and quickly brushing imaginary dust and dirt from himself as he did. Anakin again allowed himself to look out towards Mordor. His eyes narrowing ever so slightly in restrained disgust. Ever since that encounter on that field, he found he couldn't get his mind away from that...thing he had come up against. Sauron...the name alone left a sour taste in his mouth that the Jedi Knight wasn't so sure was purely because of the way the name was enunciated. Something overwhelming and dark, like one of his old terrible nightmares, that crept in and over and you couldn't break out of. A silence, and yet roar, like being in the very heart of a tornado on a world that had them. Consumed and silenced by power that was wrathful and full of old energy and strength.
Anakin brought his hands before himself and stretched his fingers out and in on both hands. That encounter bringing to light thoughts and emotions he'd have rather left buried, unspoken of and apart from himself. He hated them, he hated what they made him feel, and he hated...well he hated himself. Nothing made him feel better, his face scrunched again into a sneer that he didn't know to who or what it was directed towards. Obi-Wan, Aragorn, even Gandalf, they didn't understand. No one knew what it was like to live inside his skin, his head! How much it made his skin crawl and want to beat something into dust every moment he was awake. Force, he was good at hiding it and denying how he felt, and he had used and still used every trick in the Jedi book to keep himself in check and restrained. But, days arose where those feelings, those inclinations and thoughts that Sauron so easily picked from below and brought to the surface, are given new form and new meaning. Where to keep functioning, to fight and destroy, kill and wage a righteous fight for the Jedi grew so very...tiresome. To deny what he felt, and had felt, even from when he was that little stupid kid on Tattooine sometimes hurt him and he wanted to just explode!
He paused, he stared, wide eyed now as he looked down at his left hand. It was set before him shaking violently from where he balled it into a fist. His shoulders painfully cried out and his jaw was tightly wound as he felt that anger again pounding inside of himself come to the surface. He unbound his hand and watched as it shook from the torrent of rage it had been subject to not but a moment ago and he felt himself loose a deep mournful sigh even. He brought that hand up to his eyes and rubbed them.
"What is wrong with me?" He intoned with a groan, hoping beyond hope, the Force or anything would answer him. But, of course, nothing did. Nothing ever did. It just made him remember how much he missed his mother, Qui-Gon even, and Padmé...Force the only thing good, and unblemished with death and this war was her. Yet, even she was forever stained by him. He lamented as he remembered that day back on Tattooine. The smell of his mother's body still fresh in his nostrils. The dirty room the Lars family used to repair their menagerie of broken droids and water vapor units, and the dusty smell of must it carried. Padmé walking in, trying to make him talk, and his rage loosening again as it had when he killed every man woman and...everyone in that village. She knew what he had done...how could she see past that? What had he done to show he was worth a damn after pining so ineloquently after her on Naboo?
Oh it all just made him sigh some more, and want to go to sleep. But, then again, he didn't want to really do that either. Kriff, he didn't know what he wanted turned away from facing Mordor and began slowly pacing his way past the tree and back towards the Great Hall. He idly rubbed at his eyes and forehead some more as he did before he sniffled through the exhaustion he felt, and muttered lowly that he should in fact probably get some kind of legitimate rest. That was preceded by him noting just how dark it was actually.
"All that time, and with so little payoff? This really is Obi-Wan's thing." He muttered as he took notice of the stars twinkling off in the far distance around and above them. He didn't stop moving though, almost letting his feet carry him off towards the Great Hall. Really he wasn't sure why he decided to walk towards it, but he didn't have a reason not to he supposed. Maybe he'd take another look at Obi-Wan's plans...maybe he would just look at the maps of Middle-Earth with a graphical vantage and flare to them. Maybe he just wanted to walk around a bit, he didn't know. All he knew was that he was walking, was moving, and was trying to again, keep all idle nihilistic thoughts, and bristling rage under control.
"How could the Force pick me as the 'Chosen One?'" He intoned lowly as he reached the Hall's doors. He pushed them gently open as to not make too much noise, though he didn't think he was going to bother anyone in all honesty. His face down turned, he rubbed the back of his neck again as he entered the hall near silently, and very quickly pushed the doorway closed behind him as he did. Only with another light sniffle did he turn up, and within an instant he paused.
There he saw Aragorn on one knee bent near to the steps of the throne. Anakin remained utterly still, one hand at the back of his head, and the other at his side. For some reason he felt a chill rush over him, and in that moment he let himself reach out with the Force. Something was wrong, something was different, and it was in this room. Had this pulled him here? He didn't know but he did finally force himself to take one of the quietest steps I his life to his right. His eyes remained transfixed on the man before him as he pulled upwards something just beyond his sight.
Anakin could see the man wielding his sword...one he swore looked a little different than usual, but he hadn't bothered to note beforehand, and he wielded it in his right hand. Whatever Aragorn was holding up to his face was within his left, and as Anakin continued to sneakily move his way along the hall to the very edges of this great and loud hall he could see a strange glow come from it. The room became colder, and darker, and the Force seemed to whine causing Anakin to unexpectedly, as if on instinct, raise his hand to his temple in a tinge of...well pain.
A guttural, and an unnatural sound seemed to become audible from whatever Aragorn was holding. It sounded like a man, mockingly making the sound of a beast in pain with how it hissed and scratched at its throat. Anakin could see Aragorn's arm shake when this happened and he continued his slow pace forwards.
A new sound filled the room and Anakin paused where he stood. His eyes widened on their own and the Force seemed to twist and bend painfully around him and throughout the room. A booming voice, full of power and age seemed to sink into his mind, but like a distant echo. He couldn't make out the words, but he had heard this voice...it had been gruffer, uglier, and more venomous before, but he knew it, and he knew its feeling, its sensation.
"Sauron..." He intoned as he took louder more purposeful steps forwards without caring if Aragorn heard him. He had to have heard him, but the man didn't turn his way, instead he remained fixed upon what he was holding, though now Anakin knew what it was.
"Long have you hunted me, long have I eluded you, no more." Aragorn spoke with a voice shaky, but full of strength. He sounded winded, like a man having fought a ferocious battle making a speech midway through the fight, but Anakin couldn't imagine Aragorn having just done anything so arduous.
"It has to be that thing, palantir?" He intoned self questioningly as he rounded up and stood but feet away.
"Behold, the sword of Elendil!" Aragorn cried as he yanked that hefty word up beside his face and turned it flatly to look into what Anakin could now see to be a great burning Eye. Its rippling flames danced around and swirled alongside it as the black core, the slant that reminded Anakin of Grievous, turned and seemed to gaze purposefully at the blade for but a moment. He looked to Aragorn who continued to shake, like a man battling something beyond Anakin, and with what he remembered of Pippin's little encounter, he now realized he was in fact fighting. And that only brought bad memories back to the forefront of Anakin's mind.
Again that voice, muffled as it seemed to his ears sounded out. Deep and booming, powerful and old, Anakin felt that cold air, and dark power cascade throughout the hall and his hands clenched as he remembered tumbling pillars of smokey darkness enveloping and crushing him. The Eye inflamed and seemed to pronounce itself, and Anakin tried hard to look into the vision of that burning figure, but he saw only the Eye. Aragorn, however, took on the look of horror. A disturbed kind of expression, a twisting of his lips and curling of brow formed along his features as he lowered his sword he so strongly brandished but a moment prior as he slowly began to recoil from that Eye. Its voice sounded out further still, and Anakin sensed more than heard it. It took on a deeper and darker pronunciation, fouler and vindictive, harsh to the ear and menacing in power as it was in intent and strength of voice.
In that instant Aragorn let that orb, the palantir fall from his hand as he recoiled into a stand, his arm flailing as though some power was forced from his body as he staggered back. His eyes wide and expression twisted in disgust and horror. Anakin looked on confused and still mentally in reel from that returned presence. Something sounded out, Anakin looked to Aragorn and saw the man look down in shock, and within a flash of instinct Anakin reached out, not knowing why really, but he extended his right hand and with the Force he trapped something within his unseen grasp. Aragorn looked confused, and he shook himself shakily as Anakin pulled whatever it was he had towards him, and he moved forward to meet it halfway.
In the light of the moon filtering in through the many fine and high window panes lining the hall Anakin could see it glisten and carry its unusual, one could even say unnatural hum to it. He snatched it out from the air having used the Force to grasp it so gently before it smashed against the marble beneath where the Jedi looked upon it within his metallic hand as it shone on his face from beneath him and his shadow.
"A...Anakin?" The Knight looked up to see Aragorn glancing at him with a cocked head and confused brow still etched onto his features. Anakin turned to the fallen palantir, a darkness of swirling mist, or so it seemed, now replaced the fiery Eye that had been there moments before. He felt his mouth twitch uncomfortably but he ignored that looming sensation and approached Aragorn and flipped the gem hung by a now broken chain by that chain and let it dangle from him as he held it towards Aragorn.
"I don't think this would agree with the marble below." He began holding it out for the man. Aragorn looked between him and the gem before finally sighing and reaching out to grasp it in his hands, still shaking with adrenaline, or whatever that orb does to you. With great care and concern Aragorn grasped the item within his hands and pulled it smoothly from Anakin's robotic one that whirred as its gears and gyros turned and spooled.
"I didn't mean to...barge in or anything." Anakin went on as Aragorn continued to look down, seeming morose and sorrowful, upon that gem Anakin knew was deeply important to him.
"There was nothing to barge in on." Aragorn began turning up to him and closing his free hand around that necklace.
"The Dark Lord needed be goaded to meet me, and the army I will bring against him. Now, he has his reason."
"Why?" Anakin asked, though he was sure it was a point brought up before. Aragorn in kind held up his sword and eyed it for a silent moment.
"This sword, Andúril, formed from the shattered pieces of Narsil, is the blade that Isildur, my ancestor, used to cut the Ring from Sauron's hand. Long...long has Sauron dreaded his line, my line." He went on in contemplative and low a tone.
"Those born of Númenor, or who carry its memory within them always bring to his mind great anger and rage. Nothing would fill him with more unconstrained rage, and incredible doubt than to see me by way of the palantir." Anakin still held a confused look to his face, and before he could make spoken his confusion Aragorn motioned towards the black orb.
"He saw once before a Hobbit within the vision granted by the palantir. He knows not which Hobbit he saw, because Pippin was too afraid to speak to him. He attacked Minas Tirith because he believed him to have the Ring, he thought so when he beheld me for but an instant. Now, he firmly believes I hold within my possession that which is most precious to him." Aragorn explained and paced towards the throne, idly opening his hand and glancing down into it to look upon that precious necklace of his.
"When I march upon the Black Gate, he will see my boldness as a sign of arrogance. I hold his ring, therefore I think myself, no matter how large or small my army, strong enough to contend with him within his tower. He will marshal every Orc and foul thing kept within Mordor to meet me, to meet us as we assail him. He will desperately try to cut us down to retrieve his Ring. And should he do so he will find only corpses, while Frodo and Sam scale the mountain and cast it within."
"If they make it there." Anakin offered somewhat mirroring Gandalf from before. That caused Aragorn to glance back at him over his shoulder. His eyes showed a man unsure and betrayed any words he may have had for the Jedi Knight. Though he was quick to soften his features, and a small smile came along his face as he rounded back towards Anakin.
"There's always hope, my friend. Gandalf had spoken to Theoden, and I do not believe you or your Master were present, but I will invoke what Mithrandir spoke, for even he need be reminded of those words from time to time." Aragorn neared Anakin once more and sheathed his sword.
"Should all the world come crumbling down, and Sauron best us all, and Arda fall into darkness, should men become shadows of what we were in service to him and his dark arts and ways, and all that is good be destroyed turned black and made to his will, but a single flower bloom upon a hilltop, then there is but a ray of hope. Then, Sauron has not yet fully won." The man offered with a kind of strange wisdom Anakin knew had to have come from Gandalf at some point.
"Yeah, yeah I suppose that does sound like something Gandalf would say." Aragorn and Anakin shared a smirk and light chuckle that faded as quickly as it showed.
"I believe that those two will reach Mount Doom. If we are to succeed, or have any hope of success we must hope beyond hope that such a thing is possible. If Sauron did in fact have the Ring we would be well on our way to ruin, but alas for him, still we yet stand. Minas Tirith has not fallen, Rohan is still free, and Dale and Erebor still resist the enemy beyond even our reach and aid. When you look at it then, our position seems not so bleak indeed." Aragorn offered and Anakin did his best to shrug in what he hoped conveyed agreement.
"I don't think defeat is really what we'll face. I have maybe a bloated opinion of my soldiers, and of our technology. I just don't know what will happen on that road to the eventual victory. Anything, and everything could happen. Victory, isn't so victorious seeming when half of your friends end up dead, or tortured, or...broken." Anakin offered, his mind flooding with memories of past battles and persons. Some of whom had long since been dead. Some of whom he now had to wonder if they weren't dead as well.
"We all must die, and we all must do so in one of two ways, Anakin." Aragorn began.
"We can die good deaths, or bad deaths. To go into death unafraid, with purpose and with your wits about you, unsure but undaunted by the great mystery of what awaits you is strength in and of itself. A strength very few, if any, among the enemy's number carry with them. To die, thrashing and gnashing, cursing and howling, afraid of what you do not know and cannot control, that is to die an ignominious, and terrible death indeed."
Well...that sounded good, smart even. Though Anakin still sighed unsure of it all. Was he afraid of dying? No, well he didn't think so. He knew for sure he didn't want anyone else around him, anyone who didn't deserve it to die. Not if he could help it, and he would if he damn well could. The Force...so powerful, its possibilities boundless and without constraint, and even still, death found them all. That made his heart thud and anxiety grip at him. After all it came for his mother, and what the kriff could he do about it? What had she done to deserve it? Did she go happily while strapped to a rack beaten and bloodied?! Her final thoughts were that of pain, and misery, crying out for someone, for him to help her, and he failed. His eyes narrowed and an inner pain, and anguish shuddered through him. Force, he needed to stop having these little talks with Aragorn.
"I see you're deep in thought. I don't know if we can all expect the same thing, or agree to deaths terms so willingly. But, understanding there is a time and a place to let go of life, for yourself and those who go to death in their own way, is a strength our enemy will never know. Those who cling to life, and cling to power beyond them, fear what they cannot fathom, and what they cannot scheme and manipulate against to control to their own bidding. Accept that, and you can accept many things, my friend."
"What if..." Anakin began but silenced himself, his eyes for some reason finding themselves drawn to the dark orb that had moments prior hosted what he now perceived to be the Great Eye of Sauron himself.
"What if you were tortured, beaten, crying out in pain for someone...for your child, for anyone to save you, but they came too late? You die as they hold you. They've gotten there too late, and nothing can be done. What death do you have then?" Aragorn studied Anakin for a moment, the Jedi saying nothing after as he felt heat rise to his face as he only then began to realize he may have said...too much maybe.
"I'd die, seeing the face of my child, one last time. That would be more than enough." Aragorn offered and Anakin hated him. He always seemed to have a karking reply, and a stupidly good one. Once more Aragorn patted Anakin's shoulder and cast him one of those older wiser smiles of his, and with a weariness from his ordeal plain upon his face turned and covered the palantir with a simple cloth, before walking off beyond the throne into one of the halls beyond. Leaving Anakin standing alone in the hall. Too many contemplation's, and too many thoughts drowning him out. His jaw cracked back and forth and his eyes fell onto that covered black orb warily. The tenseness he felt being near that...thing, and whom it could reach even from so far away put him on edge. It effected him in ways not even Aragorn's words could. He was drawn to it, but repelled by it, and fear struck at him even as he tried to release it into the Force.
"Sleep, that's what I need...sleep." Anakin intoned and with more hasty a turn than even he had expected of himself as he swung around and made for the doorway to find his room. Wondering and pondering ever, why he had come in here at all in the first place.
The Great and burning Eye atop the black tower shook with an unquenchable fury. The blackened slit of a pupil dilated and the flames that swirled around it seemed to flare brighter than the shrouded sun beyond the thick clouds churned from the endless furnace that was Mount Doom. Sauron hidden within the very high top of his tower wallowed, a horrendous howl unlike anything screamed by the most wretched wraith sounded many floors down sending Orc and Uruk into a frenzy of fear. The Dark Lord thrashed and howled as swirling tendrils of darkness laced with burning fire within the dark folds spun and cracked like thunder as he consumed himself with a burning hate and trembling wrath.
"Elessar!" The booming voice cried even as he saw deep into his trembling and fearful mind, and even as he plucked to the fore that Elven wench that set his mind into a flutter and despair, even as he made the man recoil in fear and anguish the Dark Lord felt nothing but cold burning fury.
"My Lord," A hissing and hollow voice spoke softly as though cowering and the form of Sauron broke its rampage, tendrils halting and all light shaking in the wrathful darkness. Sauron turned to look upon one of his lieutenants, whom among their number, he cared not.
"Your summons has been heard, Lord." The Nazgûl bowed its dark cowl. Sauron's form curled the air and the wind whirled around him as he neared the wraith. A burning heart hidden behind shadows thrust and churned like a molten pit as he came to a stop before the wraith.
"My Ring! My Ring is in the hands of the Ranger made King! It is no small failing that should befall you and your ilk!" The voice thundered and the Nazgûl recoiled into a prostration as the darkness exploded out before swirling back inwards.
"Elessar...he will come, and he will marshal those from afar, they will come. Assail, assail, they will assail my lands, my domain, my gates! Thrash and whip, churn and beat, rise anew the horde and bring them to readiness! March, march all Orc and Olog who yet draws mortal breath within Mordor and ready them upon the gates! The Ranger-King will march and he will crash against our force! He will fall beneath Orc and Olog sword and spear, and your winged beasts will fall onto them as they rise and fall! You will bring to me the corpse of this lowly King of a ragged house, and upon him shall be held my Ring! Low be made any who resist and woe shall be the only word they mutter for the suffering they shall incur!"
"I shall do as thee desire, Lord." The wraith intoned and bowed its head even further to the ground in reverence and no small amount of fear.
"Flay every bone, and crush every body, bring me all halflings upon a pike, and fell every man that set foot near to my domain! Crush Orc and Man, Elf and Dwarf underfoot until that most precious golden band is from your hand to my own! I shall suffer no more delay, I will tolerate no more refutation of my domination! Marshal those machine men and their machine beasts and put them to readiness and the march for they too will meet both their enemies and my own upon this, the last battle I shall tolerate of this war!"
"As you will, Lord Sauron." The wraith continued to assure, before Sauron spun away from him, his form snaking along the ground and the walls howling in bend and decay at his mere presence.
"Begone!" The voice trembled and thundered as the wraith wordlessly turned and made to prepare that which his Lord had commanded. The Dark Lord mused and he trembled within his hold. For, all he needed was that Ring, and he would see Elessar burn before he would allow such a man, a man of the Dúnedain, and of Númenor blood, wield that power, his power.
"Check the sides." One B2 super battle droid commanded as its heavy footfall sounded out. Two squads of B1 battle droids affirmed their larger and tougher droids commands and moved along either side of the ship. The heavy and crunching fall of a dwarf spider droid also sounded as it neared the fallen and smoking debris pile set not too far from their command base.
"Enemy vessel confirmed. Flight capability appears untenable." One B1 noted with its squeaky but robotic and monotone voice.
"Excavate the interior."
"Roger, roger." The B1 repeated as several of the droids approached with saw and torch units and began burning and churning through the metal outer shell of the mangled gunship. The sound of saw and torches meeting and tearing away metal sounded out as several droid piloted STAP's circled the sight. Overhead the sound of a wailing beast caught the attention of the B2 which turned its angular body to glance upwards as one of the local creatures hissed and called out hoarsely and moved off towards the fallen and decaying Invisible Hand. There atop it was sat a dark figure, and the droid had no room to assume or ponder, it was not made for such things. The Captain, a Neimoidian, likely was the intended target of the beast and its rider.
A harsh crunch sounded out as one B1 stumbled as its torch broke through and caused the trooper latch to detach and the entire doorway fell to the ground digging a hold into soot laden and black ground below them.
"Enter." The B2 instructed rounding nearer.
"Roger, roger." The B1 confirmed as three fellow droids grasped tightly at their blaster rifles and shrunk inside the fallen gunship.
"Two confirmed enemy combatants dead. One survivor."
"Execute any and all enemy combatants." The B2 replied simply and relayed the pre-programmed protocols.
"Negative, survivor is non enemy combatant." The B2 twisted its body in a strange way that seemed to mock an organic being's confused turn of the head.
"Repeat."
"Survivor is non enemy combatant. Recommend removal from enemy gunship unit to organic medical bay."
"Extract 'non enemy combatant' for secondary diagnostic and review."
"Roger, roger." The B1 replied, and within a few moments it came from within the ship after twisting low to avoid debris. Followed then by its two fellow droid units hoisting up a body. The B2 found itself oddly recoiling...it would run a diagnostic on that movement later. The body, was in fact, a non enemy combatant.
"Load the body onto transport immediately and return to the Invisible Hand's medical bay at once. I shall report this to the Captain."
"Roger, roger." They did as instructed, and the B2 made ready to contact their recently made local commander, that Neimoidian Captain. Though, even somewhere inside the computerized mind of the droid it mused, that it would seem that organic Neimoidian would very soon be summarily replaced once more.
Author's Note: As usual any and all grammatical errors can be either pointed out to me (and I will make an effort to fix them), or you can try your best to simply ignore them. Sorry for another long wait to anyone who cares, but school, and work and life take up a lot of time for me, plus lack of any real inspiration as of well...a while. either way let me know if you want, and flame if you will Lord knows I can't stop you now.
Also, major edits coming for earlier chapters of this story, just in case anyone reads them again and finds them to be majorly different. I was/am a middling writer at best and some of the earliest work needs what improvements that I can offer. But, I doubt anyone goes back to reread fanfictions, so I digress.