Green Tide
A Star Wars Story
CHAPTER ONE
He was a good kid; lived a ways from us, always helping out when he could. Maybe that's why the Jedi wanted to train him. Hope he's alright - hope he made it
-Dun Calgan, Naboo fisherman
Bishop admired the lush blue and purple Tridexian jungle canopy just a dozen feet below. With legs slung over the side of the Republic transport, Jedi Padawan Bishop Cornel watched as the technicolor optics of the alien world skimmed past. Trees larger than buildings sprouted up from the rich soil whose branches covered an area larger than a merchant landing pad.
Handsome by any measure, the 19-year-old sported a shaggy haircut and traditional beige Jedi garb with a brown leather belt to hold it tightly together. Too young to suffer from subcutaneous fat depots around the throat and chin, his sculpted face glistened in perspiration from the flutter of anxiety on his first deployment. Master Windu eluded to this moment for some time, that every young Jedi would need to go out and prove that they could manage an unforgiving galaxy.
"The Separatist blockade of Naboo failed, but now we know the Sith have returned. I fear this upcoming conflict is going to test all of us. Still, before you face the Separatists, you need to gain your confidence my young Padawan," Windu had said just before sending him off to the outer rim.
I won't let you down Master…
Minutes passed and the impossibly thick forest began to thin out, revealing a purple grassland along the horizon. Bishop felt his heart pounding in both ears, each throbbing beat thundering like a war drum. He would not fail his master, or himself. He felt ready; the trials had tested him,
But I passed… I will show my worth.
"One minute!" Came the cry of a Clone Trooper to his men. Within the open confines of the transport-belly stood twelve troopers assigned to the Padawan to help him fulfill his mission. Another transport a mile to starboard contained an identical compliment, with an even younger Padawan of only 17, Shiri. They trained together since recruitment into the Jedi Order and were immediately inseparable despite coming from different parts of the galaxy. A Nantisi by birth, Shiri's lushes red hair and flawless white skin offered a radiating contrast. Bishop couldn't help but smile; the most beautiful girl I've ever met. But the sensation faded upon the words of his Master resonating in his mind like a warning bell.
"Careful Padawan, I can sense it; this isn't the way of the Jedi. It will lead to your end," warned Master Windu after watching the 'friends' talk after a hard night of drilling on Coruscant. Bishop smirked, that was a year ago, and Master is so right, but I don't know what to do.
"Thirty Seconds!" Bishop allowed himself one last daydream, drifting back to Coruscant in the shadow of the Jedi temple, Shiri at his side. Despite the sun having set hours earlier, the endless lights of the world-city made it challenging to find darkness, yet they had. Alone and out of view, Bishop slipped his hand around her waist and pulled her close. She buried her cheek in his chest, allowing him to kiss her forehead gently. Both were heading in opposite directions of the galaxy to finish their training. The trials were not yet over, and much uncertainty lay in their future. For a thousand generations the Jedi code continued to forbid romantic partners, demanding a life of selfless service. And yet they could not stop, unwilling and unable to reign in their feelings.
"We will be together to the very end,"he remembered whispering to her.
"Twenty Seconds!"
Now back in the present, the aircraft roared as back-blast slowed their forward movement. Shiri can you hear me?
Yes… Through the Force he could feel sensations coming from her, reliving their shared memory as if it were happening all over again. Do you promise? She asked tenderly,
Resolute, Bishop looked across the divide between ships, knowing their eyes were locked despite the distance. I promise you… nothing will stand between us.
"Ten Seconds!"
Breaking the connection, Bishop strained his neck forward to see the encampments atop small hills just ahead.
"There are reports of an unknown species terrorizing a small colony on the outer rim; this will be a good test for you. Trust your instincts, trust your squad." Master Windu had kept the briefing vague, either because he did not know much himself, or to keep the Padawan on his toes and ready.
Nearer now, the small outcropping of huts seemed abandoned, with a few still smoking from fires started the previous night. With a slight tilt of the engines, the transport's nose lifted up to allow the rear legs to touch down first, followed by a shudder as the front struts came down with a hiss. Clone Troopers and Jedi clambered onto the purple grass and quickly moved upwards towards the first small dwelling. Ill-advised to stay grounded due to a potential ambush, the transport blasted bits of debris and grass as it took to the air and departed. Half a mile to his right, Shiri's transport unloaded its contents near another settlement before ascending into the bright sky. Overhead the sun beamed with incredible radiance, giving everything a golden hue, the straw roofs of the huts appearing to simmer in gold.
Purple grass brushed against Bishop's shins as his black leather boots sunk an inch into the soft spongy soil. The platoon advanced slowly, fanning out to flank the huts from each side. The settlement consisted of ten shacks, with a shallow gully presenting a potential blind spot to the far left. That might be a problem. He pushed the platoon further with a hand signal, being sure to send a two-man squad to look down the ravine. The sun shone so bright that Bishop couldn't help but squint and protect his eyes with one hand. Forest encircled the vast grassy tundra, offering evidence that the plain was perhaps an old lakebed long dried and renewed with budding vegetation. Feels strange… like someone is watching us. A gentle breeze whipped past, tugging at Bishop's outfit and blowing his hair straight back.
What is that smell?… he knew the succulent amora of meat on a spindle, like his mother used to make back home. But memories of juicy Riberian roast didn't quite match this…
…stench.
That isn't dinner… that's… that is a body. Cresting the small hill, the squad came across a decaying carcass, inhumanely ugly and falling apart from exposure to the elements. The two-legged squat something seemed to be half… well, Bishop wasn't sure. A big round body and two sturdy legs. No arms, no neck. But a gigantic mouth easily able to swallow a man. The hide resembled the color of rust, with evidence of blaster burns and other inflicted damage.
"Looks like whoever lives here," the young Jedi stopped and looked around at the empty dwellings, "or, I guess, lived here… shot and killed it. But where are they? Where are the nomads that live here?"
One of the Clone Troopers kicked it, his boot sinking into the decomposing flesh, causing a sack of liquid bile to ooze out onto the ground. Bishop shot up his hand to wave off the rest,
"Don't touch it, don't touch it…." The mouth bore teeth as long as his fingers, jagged and plentiful. Multiple eyes dotted its head, too small to be any use except for essential directional references. "Anyone know what this is?" He noted that with each gust of wind, tiny flakes and skin particles would break off and be carried away. Like a sand castle in a breeze, it was breaking apart and decaying at a surprising rate. On his belt he felt a familiar buzz and stood to receive the call,
"You ok down there Shiri?"
"Yes, just empty huts and some holes. It looks like some machinery was pulled out of the ground. How about you?"
"We found something…." Bishop looked around to make sure he hadn't missed anything else. His squad indicated all huts were empty, so he continued, "...it's dead, I don't know if it is a pet or some sort of farm animal. Might have been a fight up here. Lots of uprooted dirt…blood stains on the grass as well. We see some holes; maybe they were moisture nomads. It wouldn't surprise me, the temperature is awfully-"
"Contact! Contact!"
Suddenly both troopers watching the gully began firing frantically downward. Instinctively Bishop pulled his lightsaber and ignited it. The blue hum of ancient energy crackling the air, the elegant weapon poised and ready to be used for the first time in combat. Before the young Jedi could take two steps toward the gully, a roar came up over the embankment, sending the troopers into a retreat. Then Bishop saw it. Similar to the one decaying on the ground, a bulbous bi-pedal creature raced into view. Jaws wider than two men snarling and snapping like a piranha in search of prey in murky water. Blaster fire smacked into its thick red hide, singing the flesh and causing it to roar in pain.
Within a second, a half dozen shots had hit their mark, one blowing a fist size chunk of flesh from its leathery hide. Despite this, one of the retreating troopers found himself caught in its jaws, painful screams mixing with the crunch of armor as the horrible creature trashed and tore.
"Shiri! Help!" Shouted Bishop into his communicator as he sprang forward with lightsaber held at the ready. Careful not to hit the charging Jedi and their comrade clenched in the creature's jaws, blasters fell silent, and now just the hum of the ancient weapon throbbed and slashed on the open plain. Pre-occupied with his meal, the creature didn't see the blue blade until it sunk deep into its body. The thrust sliced clean through, but Bishop wasn't done. He then angled it upward and pulled, cutting the creature in two.
"Shiri! Get over here!" Cried the Padawan as he bent down to check on the trooper. The ordinarily white armor now leaked blood from the many large holes across the legs and lower torso.
"Trooper? Trooper?!"
He felt a strong tug under his armpit and snapped his head to see it was Sergeant Cooper, the squad commander.
"Sir, we have incoming! Squad B is also reporting contact!" Following the Sergeant's outstretched finger, he noted the movement along the treeline about a half mile away. Out of the thick foliage came all manner of beasts, from various red, grey, and orange bipedal maws to green skin humanoids brandishing clubs and spears.
"Shiri?! Shiri?!" Squinting through the blazing sun, he felt his heart skip as the unmistakable twirling and whirling of a lightsaber in combat danced at the other drop zone. Then he heard it. The faint but steady discharge of blasters from the second squad. It was difficult to see as they had moved further away and down the far side of the hill. Something is attacking them, dammit! Dammit!
Wiping spittle from his mouth with the back of his hand, the drumming of his heart refocused him on the tree line. She can handle herself, she can… she can… The remaining eleven troopers spread out and dropped to their stomachs.
"Positions! Place your shots well. We only have 3 power packs each!" The lurching hoard of beasts continued forward, now only a few hundred yards off, their roars akin to a mighty predator challenging another to combat. The humanoid green skins dawned war paint and trinkets around their necks. Blood-stained and ripped clothing from the villagers hung ill-fitted, the creatures snorting and roaring with each step.
"Watch it!"
Before a nameless trooper even sounded a warning, Bishop sensed the incoming danger to his left. A group of green skins began hurling their spears from a distance no human or Wookie could hope to match. Screening his eyes from the punishing sun, the young Jedi tried to locate the deadly projectiles flying toward them.
"Anyone see them?!"
"No! The-the Sun is too bright!" Shouted Bishop in frustration,
All around them, sharpened wood poles dug into the ground, some missing by no more than a few feet while others sailed clear past and into the gorge. Bishop twirled his lightsaber in nervous anticipation, ready for his first taste of combat. C'mon you, bastards… Now the languid march of the beasts accelerated to a half run, then a few seconds later, a full charge.
"WAAAAAAGGHH! Came the beastly roar,
"Fire!"
Blue streaks of blaster fire lanced out into the alien ranks. The squat beasts with two legs, later designated Squigs, absorbed the opening salvo with cries of pain from fist-size chunks of sinew and muscle exploding into clouds of mist. Many continued onward, their microscopic brains driving them forward until finally collapsing after sustained injury. Behind the bounding balls, the green skins only stopped to hurl spears and rocks at superhuman speed before continuing their rush forward.
"Watch that left flank!"
Bishop lunged sideways, slashing his lightsaber through the air just in time to vaporize the first of many fist-sized rocks.
"Don't let them hit you! They are tossing everything- bring them down! Squad, concentrate on those Ork things!"
The thuds of rocks falling was all around them, some the size of fists, others no larger than a marble. Then a blood-curdled scream rang out; a spear had gone straight through the helmet of a trooper, the spear tip chiseled from stone and weighing over 10 pounds. Dammit, their armor can't stop that kind of weight thrown from such a distance and speed. Glancing quickly to his left, he searched out Shiri. Nothing.
Crap, crap, crap. Is she ok?! Tightness ran down his chest, and his breathing started to shorten. But there was no time to dwell, and certainly none to stop fighting and concentrate on a mental link. Another slash from his saber obliterated an incoming spear destined for the exposed back of a trooper. Are we killing enough of these things? How many are left? Due to the distance, most blaster rounds missed, causing the grass to burst like wood kindling, partially obscuring the rushing Orks and Squigs. But as Bishop saw a few more cut down, he sensed something.
Much like a parent guiding a minor child, the Force suggested that Bishop turn his head and focus on one of the spears stuck into the ground not far off. At first he didn't notice anything unusual, looking carefully from end to end, but then he saw it.
Oh my… Power packs from various villager devices were tied along the spear's length with dug-up plant roots. Spinning around, he noted more, the group too preoccupied to give the spears a second thought upon their landing. Then another 'suggestion' made its way to his mind, a warning that took the young Jedi only a second to register.
"Squad!" Bishop hurried to pull his troopers off the ground and into a run, "...attack!"
As the ten remaining troopers scrambled off the ground, flaming spears flew overhead and stuck into the purple grass, instantly igniting a firestorm on the hilltop they had just occupied.
"Run! As fast as you can!" Shouted Bishop, waving his lightsaber forward while shouting back over his shoulder. "Sergeant-" For a moment, no one knew exactly where they were or what was happening. Lifted off the ground and into the air by the tremendous shockwave, Bishop found himself face down, his world spinning and ears ringing. Where… where is my lightsaber? Get up… get up! In the moment, he wasn't sure if someone else was shouting at him, or if it was his own thoughts, but he needed to move. Shaking his head and straining to lift his upper body onto his elbows, the dawning realization of the next few seconds came upon him. The beasts were seconds away, roaring and screaming in bloodlust as the distance closed to just a hundred feet.
Bishop struggled to plant each leg firmly, wobbling left then right, the concussive blast playing havoc with his equilibrium. And despite the closing threat and screaming warnings from the Force, he couldn't help but search for his friend. Raising his hand to partially cover his eyes from the blaring sun, he squinted to find her,
C'mon Shiri…where are you? Her drop point burned with thick smoke, the huts infernos of blue, red, and yellow flame. You can't be dead! Cmon! Adding to his dismay, Clone Troopers lay all around him. Some with missing limbs, others groaning as they tried to stand despite pools of blood spilling from under their helmets.
Straining to find any sign of her through the heat waves of the blazing horizon, Bishop was just about to turn away when he saw something coming over the hill.
…there you are!
Racing from the other drop zone came Shiri. Her red hair streaming backward and arms pumping wildly, pushing herself to the limit. Behind, a single trooper with a missing hand struggled to keep pace.
…Shiri… a small smile crept from cheek to cheek, the Force informing him she was not retreating but coming to assist. Bishop felt his eyes look up to the sky, thank you, thank you so much…
Renewed, Bishop threw out his hand and called for his lightsaber, catching and igniting the blade in one motion. The first to die was a large Ork, easily a foot taller and twice the weight of a regular man. Then another, and another. From behind, remaining squad members fired the best they could, trying to keep the squigs at bay as the spears and rocks continued to fall. Despite the faster Orks and Squigs being nose to nose with the troopers and Jedi, the long-range bombardment continued, seemingly unconcerned about friendly casualties.
"Sergeant!" Screamed Bishop over his shoulder, hoping his second in command was still alive, "Sergeant!?" Shit… "Corporal?"
"Yes sir?!" answered the pained voice,
"Call our ship, tell them to send reinforcements. We are going to push them back to the tree line!"
"Right away!"
Bishop winced instinctively as a charging squig with a power cell tied around its body exploded twenty meters off by a well-aimed blaster. Clumps of dirt fell like rain, and fire spread like liquid over the purple grass. This is insane! What is going on?!
Orks roared in delight, unperturbed by the possibility of friendly fire or exploding suicide squigs. Muscular humanoids with a face half Rancor, half man, their tusks and sharp teeth chomped and snarled as they closed in for the kill.
Stone axes and wood clubs tried to block the blue blade of the lightsaber. Again and again they charged and died, sometimes getting close enough for sweat and stink to fly through the air and spray Bishop in the face.
"Reinforcements on route," shouted a trooper from behind. The brutal nature of their adversary allowed for no mistake or rest. No sooner had Bishop cut a squig in two did he spin on his heals and partially vaporize a three-pound rock thrown at one-hundred miles per hour. Superheated fragments continued past, embedding themselves in his bicep and forearm. Pain like he never felt distracted his thoughts, keeping his mind partially occupied in the frenzy of combat. He knew his men were dying, being ripped apart, bludgeoned, and cleaved.
Shit… shit… the idea that none of them would make it did not sit well. He couldn't lead them into a hopeless battle; a Jedi wouldn't do that. Chancing a quick glance back, he saw the head of a trooper being torn off just as the offending Ork fell from its own wounds. Three men left… two were injured, the other exhausted, swinging his blaster wildly in the vain hope of keeping the attackers at bay. We need help. Sweat whipped off Bishop's face as he glanced back at his friend. She was only seconds from them now, her lightsaber alive and ready for action.
But before he could think of anything else, he saw an Ork larger than the rest hurl a handful of stones at inhuman speed toward him. Able to raise a Force barrier to stop the majority, a few bypassed the telekinetic screen and struck Bishop squarely in the left shoulder.
Nuclear pain erupted from the impact, spinning the young Jedi like a top and sending him to his knees in blind agony. His rotator cuff and lateral shoulder muscles were torn like shredded steak, turning his beige sleeve dark red with spilled blood.
"Concentrate on the big one. Shoot whatever you have left!" Shouted Bishop as he gulped air to help quell the pain. Scattered blast bolts struck the beast's chest but did not penetrate a thick layer of squig hide, seemingly cut and sewn like leather armor. Smaller Orks no larger than teenagers with pointy ears and noses were cowering behind it, passing along more rocks, spears, and throwable squigs like an assembly line. These smaller brethren would later be named Gretchin, with even more diminutive underlings acquiring the name Snotlings sometime later.
Reaching down, the 'boss' swatted a Gretchin aside before grabbing another handful of stones placed in a root-sewn satchel. With complete focus on shredding Bishop, the big Ork didn't notice Shiri's approach until she was already in the air, narrowly sidestepping a decapitation strike by the young woman. With surprising grace, the nine-foot Ork retaliated with his own attack, swinging a club with every intention of pulverizing her to atoms.
You have to understand. For the last thousand years, the Jedi had trained understandably to combat their galaxy's threats, mainly blasters and lightsabers. The former redirected back to the sender by contact with a blade, and the latter completely stopped with a parry. In this case, neither advantage presented itself. Spears, rocks, and squigs could be partially absorbed, but not wholly, being too broad or numerous for complete vaporization. And none could be effortlessly rebounded to kill the attacker.
A frenzied series of lunges and parries ensued, the Ork swinging and throwing an assortment of never-ending weapons while the younger Jedi fought to counter the relentless onslaught. Through gritted teeth, Bishop watched his beloved Shiri spin and whirl, her hair flowing like lava as she ducked and weaved. Cmon…c'mon. Careful…careful… shit…I need to help; I need to get moving. Staggering with lightheadedness, Bishop fell forward into the grass, his energy stores exhausted and blood pressure dropping from the hideous wound.
Dizzy and with his vision blurred, Bishop was about to try again when he noted dots on the horizon just above the treeline. Are those? Are… he could no longer focus and decided to seek clarity from his men, his ability to reason diminishing by the second.
"Are those ours?" He asked his troopers over his shoulder, "Are those ours? Are those-" Looking back, he noted the bodies. Orks, squigs, and soldiers alike. Dead or dying in the burning grass. Oh my… His fingers disobeyed his commands despite his best efforts as he fumbled for his communicator. Can't think, can't even move.
"Bishop to-" he paused, confused for a moment as the blood drained away. "Bishop…" Then his thoughts returned and he shouted into the mic, spit spraying into the air in his desperate attempt to raise them. "Transports, reinforce this position! Land ground troops!"
"Copy!"
Relieved and spent of energy, Bishop slumped lower, the communicator falling away and into the grass beside him. We are going to be ok… once this is over, Shiri and I can… maybe get a bite to eat or something?... Background noise grew louder now, the humming and buzzing of a blade pulling his attention back to the here and now.
…Wait… this isn't over.
Ahead, Shiri scored a definitive hit, shearing off the forearm of the big Ork, but Bishop's drunken smile soon faded. She could not press her advantage, pivoting away to deflect incoming rocks and spears from the growing group of Gretchins and Snotlings. Within seconds, one sliced her stomach, her scream mixed with anger as she pressed her hand against the large wound and limped backward to try and distance herself from the encircling green skins.
Oh no! No! Shiri!
Channeling everything he could, Bishop sent the smaller ones end over end, hitting them with the strongest Force push he could muster. Sharpened sticks, clubs, and rocks flew in a hundred directions as the 'boss' looked around in confusion. Simultaneously, he took hold of the big beast, lifting it high into the air kicking and screaming. Shiri whirled around to face her friend, her eyes bursting with tears of joy.
"Bishop to transports! Shoot this thing!"
"Acknowledged!"
Missiles streaked inward, turning the howling creature into an expanding ball of fire and blood. At once the remaining Gretchin and Snotlings turned tail and ran for the forest, retreating into the supposed safety of the woods. Feeling as heavy as drawbridges, Bishop's eyelids closed as his face hit the dirt, remembering Shiri's voice crying his name as he lost consciousness.