Chapter 35. The Battle for Nowhere
Nothing they had ever known – not even the bloody conflicts that had driven them from their homes – could have prepared the fighter pilots of Esh-Col for the utter mayhem that was the Battle for Nowhere.
Planetary battles have a fundamental orientation – planet below; sky and space above. A planet provides varying terrain. Hiding places. Vantage points. In a planet-based battle, all the senses came alive – the sense of hearing, of touch; even of taste, when the air is full of dust and ozone and the water runs with blood and sludge.
In space, there are no hiding places. In space, there are no vantage points. In space, emplacements are theoretical and battle lines are invisible.
The Battle for Nowhere was a vast dance of searing laser light, fought in an endless nothingness. Approaching the war zone in space without contact from Nowhere's command headquarters – not yet, Anakin had insisted – the Pilots of Esh-Col could perceive no pattern in the fighting, nor any entry point to it. It felt like diving into an asteroid belt that didn't know whether it was exploding or imploding – a lawless, frenzied, surefire place to get killed.
Even more disheartening than the chaos, through, was the absence of a center, a place. There was no haven. There was no shelter. There was no home. The shining city of their dreams was gone. There were only more ships than the mind could count, fighting in an endless void, for something that could not be seen or felt or touched.
As it was being fought in space, the battle was also eerily silent. The only sounds the Pilots could hear were voices over the comm. and the faint, familiar noises of the machines that brought them hurtling closer into the fray. They absorbed the scene in a collective silence that was unusual for those long-time friends and brothers in arms. They merely stared at the disaster ahead, keeping their thoughts to themselves, and waited for orders from the man who had brought them to this place to find…
"Where is it?" Bram finally asked for all of them. His voice over the comm. seemed loud in the hush. "Where is Nowhere?"
Anakin laughed – a sound that was even more alarming than Bram's question. "It's out there. You see all those ships in the defense line? That's Nowhere. All those people made a city out of nothing. Then somebody came along and decided to stomp on it. They're fighting back, that's all. Nowhere is… it's an idea. We can re-make Nowhere anywhere, once the fighting's done. It doesn't matter where. That's the beauty of it."
"Nice speech, boss." Bram said dryly after silence had fallen again. "But what are we supposed to do about that?"
'That' was a cone-shaped formation on the scan screens that suddenly seemed to be closing directly on them, so fast that the shapes already were visible to the eye.
"It's a recon group. Scout ships. Split up the squadrons," Anakin ordered instantly. "Up and over. Blue, cut right. Gold, cut left. Red squad, follow me!"
"Yes, Boss… I mean, Red Leader." Bram said with barely suppressed, clearly audible excitement. "See ya' on the other side!"
"You'd better, Gold Leader," Anakin snapped. "No stunts. Just get past them. The real fight is far up ahead."
x
One man's chaos is another's intricate pattern. Fortunately for the embattled defenders of a small sector of Corellian space, General Obi-Wan Kenobi was a seer of patterns. His gift was to find meaning in the seemingly random, and to grasp instantly the significance of unexpected factors in a larger whole.
Sometimes it didn't feel like a gift – especially when lucid perception was not accompanied by the power to act.
This was one of those times.
The droid onslaught had swamped Nowhere's carefully constructed defense net in short order. The forward prong of the Separatist invasion – the lead force at the center – by itself had arrived with enough weight and power to cut a track through a whole star system. To the credit of Obi-Wan's forces the attackers' forward movement had been slowed considerably. But like a rushing flood hitting a solid barrier, the flow of enemy destruction could not pass through the defenses. Instead it circled around on itself like a massive whorl, dragging anything that was loose or weak with it, only to turn and attack again. Pounding against the barricade with every turn, droid ships seeped through every opening that presented itself, rapidly widening small rifts into great open ruptures in the net. The resulting pattern was like a series of violent rapids – chaotic, frenzied and deadly.
It was all Obi-Wan could do to steer his unequally skilled troops through the battle at hand. The professional soldiers and a gratifying number of the amateurs proved tough, smart and flexible enough to stand up against whatever came their way. Many of the others, though, showed signs of panic and confusion. The speed and implacability of the enemy caught them unawares; they could not adjust to their losses. Obi-Wan and his bridge crew spent precious time that they could not afford talking hapless field commanders through relatively minor skirmishes.
Knowing, as he did, that the other two prongs of the trident were still on their way and that they were just as powerful as the first, Obi-Wan had recalled Pell and other seasoned commanders to the Intrepid's bridge to talk the less experienced of the field leaders through the confusion around them, much like traffic controllers in a violent storm. It was a desperate move given that the Intrepid's scanners were still being intermittently blocked – Obi-Wan was certain now that the blocking came from the Victorious, but he was in no position to do anything about it – so that Pell and the others frequently had to command from afar by comm. alone without benefit of the bigger picture.
The noise and confusion on the battle bridge from a multitude of voices shouting at the same time was deafening. Temporarily freed from the job of directing front line tactics, Obi-Wan separated his consciousness from the noise as much as he dared. It could not be allowed to divert him from his greater responsibility. Soon – very soon, by the looks of things – that responsibility would narrow down to the necessity for a single decision: at what point to accept defeat and to order his people to retreat.
Not whether.
When.
The barrier – his central defense – could not hold as currently deployed. None of his promised reinforcements had arrived. Even if he pulled out all the stops and used every last resource – even if his field commanders held together and their troops fought with supernatural resolve – the arrival of only one additional separatist attack force would quickly finish off Nowhere's remaining defenses. And there were two such additional forces on the way – the outer prongs of the trident.
What could be gained by allowing his people to be destroyed? Nothing.
He needed to know how much time they had remaining.
At his first opportunity, Obi-Wan released himself from the thrall of the scanners and the myriad demands for his attention and allowed his consciousness to enter into the Force. There were fewer ghostly Jedi on the Bridge than there had been initially. He wondered in passing where they had gone, but there was no time to linger on such thoughts. As accurately as he could, he formed a mental picture of the battle zone. The real space images quickly blurred into abstractions. Good. He needed to see the patterns, not the details. Obi-Wan let go of everything but the sense of the outlines that unfolded in his mind's eye without the constraints of dimension or real time.
Somehow he was not terribly surprised when everything seemed to revolve around one single locus – a place that was an inky black hole in his awareness. He had perceived such 'places' before in his meditations. As far as Obi-Wan could tell, this one appeared more or less in the location of the Victorious.
It was on the Victorious. It. The Source of the darkness.
What does It want? Obi-Wan asked himself. What is It planning to do?
His silent questions set the images in his mind into motion. Something was coming toward the Victorious … and then it began to move. I knew it! I knew she would engage eventually… but at what point…
Look, Padawan! Qui-Gon's voice insisted inside Obi-Wan's consciousness.
The picture in his mind widened out so that he saw the entire battle arena. The right and left prongs of the separatist trident were speeding up, pulling ahead fast. Oh, that wasn't good. That alone would force their retreat almost immediately…
No, Padawan, look…
"General!"
The images in Obi-Wan's mind vanished the instant the insistent voice right by his ear wrenched him back into his normal consciousness. Damn and blast! He still needed to… He opened his eyes to see Pell shoving a small voice-only comm. unit into his face. "What is it, Captain?"
"Urgent message, General … correct codes…"
Pell was grinning. Why was he grinning? The man should not have left his post. Obi-Wan snatched the device from the Captain's hand and pointed imperiously at Pell's assigned position. The little Captain backed away, that annoying grin still on his face. "Kenobi here!" Obi-Wan snapped. "Who …"
"Sorry we're late, Obi-Wan."
V'ar. "V'ar!" That meant… Anakin. The Jedi in Obi-Wan struggled against a sudden, irrational surge of relief. There was nothing to be relieved about. Anakin was too late. The battle was all but lost.
Before he could answer, an unexpected voice chimed in, "Our small battle group is at your service, General. Only, we have a few civilians who need shelter. Please advise about the safest location for them."
"Padmé! What in the moldering sinkholes of hell are you doing here? It is not safe …"
The musical laugh that floated out the comm. made Obi-Wan instantly regret his language.
"Rest assured that V'ar agrees with you, Obi-Wan. I'm open to suggestions. But I need to secure my people. Please advise."
Obi-Wan didn't realize that he had been biting his lip until he tasted blood. "My people." she'd said, as if she were the commander in chief – as if she intended to go into battle with them! This was all Anakin's fault, without a doubt… what was he thinking?
"Where is he?" Obi-Wan bellowed. "Where is Anakin?"
Half the bridge crew looked up, startled.
"On his way to you," Padmé said calmly. "Your scanners should have picked up his signal long ago."
Obi-Wan glared balefully at the blank screen on his console. As if to mock him, the main scanner on the command bridge suddenly sizzled into life again, raising ragged cheers from around the bridge. A quick glance showed a substantial fleet approaching from the side nearest the Victorious, including a surprisingly large squadron of fighters.
Somewhat appeased, Obi-Wan muttered, "Sorry. Scanner problems. Tell Anakin to make contact immediately." He took a breath. "We've sent our civilians back to Talus. Take yours there. And go with them, Padmé!"
"Don't worry, Obi-Wan," Padmé said gently. "This is not an ending. It is a beginning. Stand by for V'ar."
A beginning. Obi-Wan stared at the small metal communicator in his hand. He had thought the same not long before, when his bridge had been brimful with the souls of departed Jedi. Now he was no longer so sure.
A shout went up from the front of the bridge. Obi-Wan blinked at the scanner, only to see a replay of the images he had visualized just before Pell had interrupted him. Ahead of the Separatist invaders' left prong, the one nearest the Victorious and Anakin's battle group, droid scout formations already dotted the screen. The Victorious was in range to destroy them all, but she did nothing… nothing!
Obi-Wan clutched the comm. link. "V'ar!" he yelled. "Warn Anakin… those torpedoes are smarter than they look!"
x
…he said the torpedoes are smarter than they look… take care, Anakin.
Always.
As Padmé's presence once again withdrew from his mind, Anakin took a fresh, hard look at the pyramid formation of droid ships just ahead.
"Fall back," he ordered. "Everyone fall back. I'm going to try something."
"But Boss…"
"Now!" Anakin spat. "Never question an order. It'll get you killed."
"Copy, Red Leader." Bram was suddenly all business. Gold and Blue groups peeled away to either side; Red Group hung back while Anakin shot straight toward the nearest droid ship formation…
… and practically danced his tiny ship in front of it.
Nothing happened.
The Pilots held their collective breaths.
Anakin's tiny ship danced closer… and fired.
"Hellshine! What is he doing?"
"Shut up, Blue Leader," Bram snapped tensely.
The lead droid ship – the point of the pyramid – instantly returned fire.
Anakin flew a zigzag. The missile streaked after him, reproducing Anakin's path in red against the blackness beyond.
"And he tells us not to pull any stunts…"
"I said, shut up!"
The faraway speck that was Anakin's ship suddenly pulled into a sharp loop and doubled back straight into the path of the oncoming torpedo. A violent explosion made every pilot flinch. Many cried out.
Another, much larger explosion followed. The flash cloud and the debris made it impossible to see what had happened.
Then there was silence.
In a few moments – endless moments – Anakin's ship emerged from somewhere near the flashpoint. The missile had vanished. The lead ship of the formation was gone. The remaining droid ships listed in space, inert.
"I thought so," Anakin said cheerily over the comm. "New tactic. Form up in threes. Concentrate your fire on the lead ship in each formation. No big deal – think of it as target practice back on the buttes."
"He sounds like he's enjoying this," someone muttered indistinctly while the entire squadron hastily formed up as ordered.
"Shut up!" Someone else hissed. It wasn't Bram this time. Every pilot was caught up the tension – and yes, the excitement – of the moment.
"Go!" Anakin ordered, and the Pilots of Esh-Col, carefully arranged in small, widely spaced groups, swarmed toward their targets.
x
The main scanner screen on the Intrepid seemed to be working for the moment. Obi-Wan studied the composite display and frowned. Unlike the others on the battle bridge, he was not heartened by the arrival of the fleet from Esh-Col. Like the rest of Obi-Wan's troops, it was variable and unpredictable. He wasn't familiar with its commanders and their capabilities, except…
Obi-Wan's frown deepened. Brazenly, Anakin hadn't even bothered to check in. Obi-Wan wouldn't have known that Anakin was among the newcomers if it hadn't been for Padmé … other than the evidence on the scanner screen, of course.
The left prong's scout formations were almost all gone, picked off by a very efficient deployment of fighters.
Anakin was behind that, all right.
It would have been nice if he'd had the courtesy to coordinate his actions with Obi-Wan. Did he intend to continue fighting his own battles without regard for Nowhere defense's overall tactical imperatives?
That would be just like him.
At least Padmé had done as Obi-Wan had asked. A significant section of the fleet from Esh-Col had broken off, re-formed, and was moving out of the battle zone in the direction of the heart of the Corellia System. Bending over the console, Obi-Wan reassured himself that the ship he had tagged as Padmé's was among that group. There it was – right in the middle. Good. Obi-Wan would have loved to have had V'ar's help, but it was advantageous to have her at the Senator's side. Knowing she was safe, maybe Anakin wouldn't do anything rash…
But perhaps it wouldn't matter. Even if by some miracle Anakin's small fleet could successfully hold off the left prong, the right was almost upon them. Nowhere's central defense was on its last legs. He could have done more with orderly, well-trained, tactically superior clone troops; but even though the denizens of Nowhere were pouring heart and soul into the battle, they would never be able to withstand the Separatist armies.
It was all too late…. he needed to organize their retreat. The Battle for Nowhere was over.
Something hard rapped Obi-Wan across the knuckles. He flinched and looked down at his hand. There was nothing there – not even a mark.
I told you to look, Padawan!
Irritated, Obi-Wan scanned the bridge. In his current state of narrow focus on the battle he saw nothing exceptional – no Jedi. No stern former Master. Maybe he had begun to imagine things.
The main scanner screen began to flicker again.
"Any word on what is blocking our scanners, Ensign?"
"I can't work out the pattern, Sir, but the source is definitely the Victorious. We're successfully anticipating and blocking their countermeasures fifty percent of the time."
"Keep up the good work, Ensign. Priority on the main screen."
"Aye, General."
Obi-Wan took a deep, steadying breath. "Heads up, everyone. Prepare to for retreat."
His knuckles received another invisible rap, harder than the first.
Ow!
"You sure about that, Sir?" Pell sang out. "Looks like we might have a little reprieve."
The main scanner screen fizzled out, leaving Obi-Wan staring at a blank. A second later a deep, gravelly voice boomed out over the Intrepid's comm. net.
"Need any help, General?"
A sudden, breathless hush fell over the battle bridge.
Obi-Wan ruefully rubbed his pristine knuckles. "What are you offering, Master Windu?"
"A heavy task force of the Republic's finest. We just happened to be in the neighborhood."
Through the wild cheer that erupted around him, Obi-Wan said calmly, "I'd appreciate your taking care of that right prong, Master. And if you can spare a few cruisers, my center defense needs shoring up."
"On the way," Mace rumbled. "Windu out."
It seemed the battle was to go on.
I told you to look!
Obi-Wan turned to the Comms. officer. "See if you can hail the lead ship in that fighter squadron that just joined us. Skywalker, his name is. Use any method at your disposal to get through. Hack their comms. if you have to. Tell him… tell him that if he doesn't contact me right away, I will personally see to it that his next few breaths are his last."
The Comms. officer's eyes widened, and then he quickly looked away. "Aye, Sir. Contacting Skywalker. As ordered."
x
To all outward appearances, the Victorious was a shining example of the newest class of Star Destroyers. Unlike others of her class, though, the Victorious had been built to certain secret specifications known only to a very few.
Not only were her navigation and weapons systems the most advanced available, but her sensor capabilities were beyond anything else in the Republic's arsenal. Her structural design also was unique in that it allowed for secret passageways and spaces whose purpose even the Victorious' elite officers and crew were not allowed to know. They knew only that a certain central sector of the ship was off limits to anyone but the Captain or his specific designees.
One such restricted compartment on the Victorious, as veiled as any dark temple, contained a nerve center so well equipped that it could have served as a secondary battle bridge. All transmissions to the Victorious appeared there; any transmissions that flowed from that location never were questioned.
The duly elected leader of the Galactic Republic and the leader of the Republic's enemy, the Confederation of Independent Star Systems, stood side by side in their sanctum watching the progress of a key battle in the destructive civil war they had devised together. The sophisticated apparatus around them provided a satisfying overview of the destruction outside.
For the moment, these men had put aside the masks of their worldly stations. In place of the widely-known leaders stood only two Sith Lords. For such men, the equipage of information and directed action that surrounded them was secondary. Their apparatus of choice was the Force.
"I gather you did not order reinforcements to this sector," Lord Tyrannus observed, watching the mighty Leviathan and her battle group move into position.
"I did not." Sidious turned away from the scanners to face his companion. "Do you know who that is?"
"Of course, my Lord. That is Master Windu."
No mere scanner, however sophisticated, would have told him that.
Sidious nodded, satisfied. "Just so." After a pause he added, "The Jedi are massing against us."
"Indeed my Lord." Lord Tyrannus took a breath. "Have we revealed too much of ourselves?"
"All is revealed in the Force," his Master said cryptically. "One only needs the ability to see."
Lord Tyrannus had many questions, but instead chose to sidle away to safer topics. "Given the new reinforcements, the weakest link in the rebels' defense is the odd civilian fleet. They cannot survive long, especially since nearly a third of their number has turned away from the battle toward Corellia."
"Perhaps." There was a sense of suppressed excitement about Darth Sidious. His eyes glittered. Lord Tyrannus had the sense that his Master's attention was less on the battle than elsewhere.
It was not difficult to infer where. Sidious was searching for Skywalker.
Lord Tyrannus almost imperceptibly shifted his weight from one foot to the other to ease the strange sense of pressure that had troubled him since his arrival on the Victorious. It was a dangerous game they were playing, as always – when do we not play with fire? – but this time it was a game that he did not fully understand. It was an altogether unpleasant feeling. In every other sphere of his life Darth Tyrannus was the undisputed Master. Only Darth Sidious could keep him uncertain and off-balance.
Sidious reached for the comm. unit that connected him directly and exclusively with the Victorious' Captain.
"What progress on breaking into the rebels' communications network, Captain Tarkin?"
"We are almost there, Your Excellency. Our interference with their scanners has yielded the data necessary to extrapolate their encryption sequences."
"Good, Captain. I want full access to all rebel communications the moment it becomes possible."
"Of course, Sir. At once…"
"Captain Tarkin."
Lord Tyrannus looked up at the sudden poisonous edge in Sidious tone.
"Y-yes, Your Excellency?"
Obviously the Captain had heard it, too.
"We do not know who these people – these civilian fighters from Esh Col – are. Most likely they are harboring traitors and spies among their numbers. While most will face their destiny in battle, some are fleeing into neutral territory." He paused to audibly suck in his breath. It sounded like a hiss. "The security of the Republic requires that they be seized and held for investigation and processing. If they fight back… well, there are many misfortunes in war, are there not?"
"Indeed there are, Your Excellency!" The fear in Tarkin's voice had instantly turned into something else. Pleasure, Lord Tyrannus thought.
Good man. His Master had always been a good judge of character.
"Crush them, Captain Tarkin." Lord Sidious commanded. "Wait until their fighter escort is fully engaged in the battle, and then crush them."
"As you command, Your Excellency. It will be done."
Yes, Lord Tyrannus reflected. It had been pleasure in Tarkin's voice.
x
"Padmé." V'ar said her name awkwardly, as if she still felt uncomfortable using it. "You had better tell me what is troubling you."
Padmé stared out into space blindly, seeing nothing. Her awareness had been turned inward since her last contact with Anakin, searching for clues to the misgivings that had haunted her ever since – doubts that grew heavier and darker the further she moved away from him.
She had shared many of his emotions in that last contact – excitement, determination, worry – all understandable, but none had predominated or seemed overwhelming. In fact, Anakin had seemed to have himself well in hand. Enviably so. Except…
Afterward she had thought, there was something else… something underneath. The thing she couldn't give a name to clung to her horribly.
She could hardly think about anything else.
"Padmé?"
Padmé shook her head in a vain attempt to clear it. "I'm sorry. It's just that something feels wrong. Something… she frowned, trying to come up with a way to express it… something that Anakin is very aware of, but that he tries to hide from me."
To Padmé's dismay, V'ar didn't immediately disagree. Instead, she too fell silent for a time, staring off into the distance.
"V'ar?"
"You are right. There is something. We all feel it. It strikes into the heart of every Jedi, every Force-sensitive person. It is a quality of …darkness. A darkness in the Force. It permeates everything around us and in that battle arena." V'ar rubbed a hand over her face, revealing with that one aberrant gesture just how disturbed she was. "I can't think of another way to describe it."
"You don't have to." A white-hot jolt of unease shot through Padmé's body. A sharp, bright bolt of recognition – the culmination of all the thoughts that had been worrying her since the civilian fleet had separated from the fighters. "I shouldn't be here!"
"What do you mean?" V'ar's voice was taut and dry.
Padmé looked into her golden eyes and knew without a doubt that V'ar shared her misgivings. Even if she refused to admit it. "You know what I mean. I have a role to play in this – somehow. I don't know how. But I need to be near Anakin."
Lips tight, V'ar looked away, out the viewscreen and ahead, in the direction of the relative shelter of Corellia. "We planned this very carefully. Our job is to keep you safe."
Padmé moved closer to the Jedi. "Why, V'ar?" she crooned. "Why must I be kept safe? Say it!"
V'ar refused to look at her. Finally, reluctantly, she whispered, "Because you keep Anakin in the light."
"And what am I doing now, V'ar?"
V'ar didn't answer.
"I'm leaving him behind, V'ar. I'm leaving him to fight this battle alone." She wasn't just talking about a battle with ships and weapons. V'ar understood that, too – Padmé was sure of it.
"He needs to know that you are out of harm's way," V'ar insisted after taking a suspiciously deep breath. "He can do his job better if he doesn't have to worry about you all the time."
"It is logical to hide me on Corellia. It is a rational plan …" Padmé was right next to V'ar now, forcing the Jedi to look down into her face, "... but V'ar, it is wrong. I know that now. I only wish I had realized it sooner."
V'ar began to shake her head. No, no, no…
"I have to turn back," Padmé said softly. "I have to."
"What could you possibly do there, other than get in the way or be destroyed yourself?"
Padmé shrugged. "I don't know, V'ar. But I need to be near him. I need you to find a way."
V'ar looked up, then down, then out the viewscreen. Anywhere but at Padmé. "No, My L… Padmé. I'm sorry. That I cannot do. We continue to Talus and then on to Corellia, as planned."
"V'ar, search your feelings!"
V'ar stopped shaking her head.
She took a deep breath.
Then she nodded, just once.
Yes.
It must truly be serious, Padmé realized in a moment of perfect clarity, if V'ar yields to this.
"Thank you, V'ar." Padmé had the impulse to hug her, but decided that was one boundary that shouldn't be crossed.
"Obi-Wan is going to kill me," V'ar said mournfully, activating the comm. link to the bridge.
"Don't worry," Padmé said cheerfully. "Anakin used to say that all the time, too, and I'm sure he deserved it more than you. And look where he is now!"
The look V'ar gave her instantly banished all cheerfulness.
"Sorry," Padmé muttered. "It's easy to forget that you're a Jedi."
"About full," V'ar ordered into the comm. "Tell the rest of the flotilla to continue on." She shot a glance at Padmé and added for the benefit of the incredulous pilot, whose shouted protests Padmé could hear at a distance without aid of the comm., "We will find our own way."
x
To Obi-Wan's tired eyes, the body, the shape of the battle appeared on the scanners like a great, groaning beast that stretched first one way, and then another. Master Windu's powerful onslaught against the right prong had bent the creature's limbs on that side away from the center, practically doubling them back in preparation for cutting them off entirely.
That left the beast's belly, the area at the center, more vulnerable. It was the perfect time for a series of strikes against the weakening middle prong; but Obi-Wan's resources were geared toward the defensive tactics that he had drilled into them. Even augmented by some of Windu's sharp and ready attack force, Obi-Wan's main body of troops – the ones that formed his wavering net – could not be rallied into uniform attack formation easily or quickly. If the tide of the battle turned and they needed to re-make their defenses, that would take a long, inefficient time, too.
But his greatest worry was the left prong of the invasion. It had accelerated, of course. The Separatist commanders had assessed his situation accurately. Most of what he had to deal with it was in the form of Anakin's – presumably it was Anakin's! – relatively small and motley fleet. Their advantage was their very efficient fighter squadrons – Obi-Wan had nothing like that to work with elsewhere – but Obi-Wan worried that it wouldn't be enough, and that they would be destroyed before Windu could finish off the right prong and come to help.
That was the thing about a beast, he reflected mournfully, just before the main scanner linked out for the fifth time in as many minutes – whatever its species, a beast had the ability to centrally command all parts of its body without needing time to think or to re-group.
Droid armies could do the same.
Droids might not think, but they certainly could synchronize their movements! No wonder many, even on the Republic side, thought droid armies were the way of the future. They would always be easier to command than armies consisting of associations of independent beings – no matter how motivated.
And that is why the Republic is so quickly being overrun by these unthinking armies. Free action takes time and leads onto unpredictable paths.
Obi-Wan felt as if, no matter how hard he worked to bring his forces together into effective synchronicity, his job felt more like holding onto a basket of bugs, each one crawling in a different direction.
"Sir!"
"General!"
Two officers shouted for Obi-Wan at the same time. Obi-Wan snapped into focus. Holding the Nav. Officer at bay with a raised hand, he pointed to the Comms. Chief. "Do you have him?"
"Yessir!" the man was excited. "It's an obsolete channel – it's open on your link, General."
"But General!" The Nav. Officer persisted as the main scanner screen display appeared once again.
"Obi-Wan held his palm up toward the Nav. Officer, once again stopping him mid-sentence. "Good job! Now hold on…"
His comm. crackled. "Anakin?" The static continued while he quickly searched the left side of the scanner display for any indication of Anakin's location. By the best of will he couldn't pick him out of the crowd.
"I got your message word for word. It's nice to be appreciated."
"Why haven't you checked in?" Obi-Wan barked.
"Busy here." Even the bad link picked up the unmistakable sound of laser fire. "Very busy… helping you."
"Anakin – listen – we need to coordinate..."
"Nothing to coordinate. I see what needs doing. I'm doing it. Signing off."
"Wait!" When all he got was static, Obi-Wan snapped at the Comms. Chief, "Don't close that channel!" The link must still have remained open on Anakin's end, too, because fragmented voices could be heard on the other end calling out to one another.
The pilots, evidently.
Then Anakin's voice could be clearly heard in the background giving orders… "all right, Blue and Gold, take the flanks. I'm going front and center. Follow my lead…" but he had no word for Obi-Wan.
"Anakin, by the seven hells," Obi-Wan roared into the comm., "I'm commanding these forces and I expect you to follow my direction!"
"Don't you get it, Obi-Wan?" Anakin's voice was suddenly loud and clear. "I'm not here. I was never here. Now back off!" The static ended and the link went dead.
"I'm sorry, General," the Comms. Officer said dispiritedly. "I can't get him back."
On the large scanner display the left side of the beast stretched itself out, growing longer and longer, pushing into defended space and beginning to curve as though it were trying to find a foothold near Obi-Wan's defensive net. Without knowing the capabilities of Anakin's fighting group, Obi-Wan couldn't count on them. He had to find another way to defend the left flank.
He just hoped Anakin wouldn't get caught in the middle. He still didn't know exactly where in that hellish mess he was.
"General Kenobi!" The Nav. Officer shouted again.
Basket of bugs.
"Pell!" Obi-Wan called.
The little Captain was by his side in a flash.
"It's time for our last resort." Obi-Wan pointed to the display on the console in front of him. "Here, and here. We have to keep them from swinging around behind us."
"Aye, General."
Pell ran back to the tactical pit. Shouts of surprise and delight echoed around the Bridge when a substantial force of fighting ships – Corellian regulars, by the looks of the symbols on the screens – appeared out of nowhere from behind the struggling defense net, engaging head-on the encroaching hind leg of the Separatist Beast.
Obi-Wan took a deep breath. Nowhere's sophisticated cloaking array had been put to good use hiding the last of his forces.
But they were the very last. He had nothing else in reserve. And thanks to Anakin, it seemed he didn't even have unequivocal command and control over all of his troops.
Obi-Wan looked sourly at the scanner display, which finally seemed to be holding onto a steady signal. At least we are holding fast for the moment – Windu continued to make solid inroads on the right, and Obi-Wan's center line was bowed inward but not broken. On the left, though…
On the left, the oddest thing was happening.
While the Corellian regulars had joined with the remainder of the civilian fleet in a fierce effort to beat back the swift-moving left prong at its front edge, the prong itself – the leg of the beast, as Obi-Wan thought of it – began to lose some of its density. It looked…
"Are those scanners working all right?" Obi-Wan called out to the Nav. Officer.
"Perfectly, Sir. We haven't had an outage in some time. The interference seems to have stopped. But General, there is something else…"
"Wait…" Yet again Obi-Wan held up his hand to silence the agitated man.
The hind leg of the beast looked as though it was being chewed up from the inside. By bugs. Holes were developing everywhere, spreading wider and wider…
"That pestilent, feculent Separatist scum!" The Comms. Officer screamed suddenly. "General! Our comms. net – the whole thing – has been compromised! We're completely exposed!"
In the deafening silence that followed the Comms. Officer's outburst Obi-Wan stepped up to the main scanner display. At first he studied the position of droid control ship near the center of the display, but very quickly his gaze slid to another symbol, far to one side, that didn't even form part of the Droid Beast.
He looked at his crumpled Nav. Officer. "Not the Separatists, then?"
The Nav. Officer shook his head. "The scanner interference was a cover…"
Obi-Wan looked back at the display.
The Victorious.
She had begun to move.