The damaged freighter had crash landed on the roof of the Theed Records
building. Just before impact, the pilot had managed to reroute all power to
the still-functional shields, and the vessel's occupants, securely strapped
into their seats, had survived.
The lieutenant unstrapped himself from the cockpit, which was rapidly filling with suffocating gas from the fire extinguishing system. He balanced on the slanting cabin floor, and bolted through the door to the main cargo hold.
"Grab your gear and heavy weapons," he ordered the men, who were already rising from their seats and charging blaster carbines. "We're going to secure and hold this building."
The soldiers poured from the freighter into the damaged upper floor of the Records Center, gunning down those who had not already begun to flee in terror.
***
Ten minutes later, the platoon had eliminated those who had not been able to escape.
The lieutenant removed a map of the city from one of his pockets, quickly determining their location from his memory of the chaotic trip down. The Records building stood alone, flanked by wide streets on each side and to front and rear. The shuttle had crashed on the top floor, the sixth, but the structural integrity of the building was not compromised, a tribute to the classically beautiful yet well-engineered Naboo architecture.
His forty-man platoon consisted of four nine man squads and the tiny command staff. Each squad had a repeating blaster team of two men. He paused for a moment, staring at the map, remembering his flash-training lessons on urban combat. He mentally retrieved a lesson entitled "Defense of an occupied structure."
"Send one squad to the top floor on each face. Position our repeater teams to cover the streets with riflemen in support."
"Yes, sir!" the sergeant responded, snapping a parade-ground salute.
The lieutenant felt confident. The wide streets gave his men superb fields of fire and they carried enough blaster packs for the repeaters to hold out for quite some time. His men would eventually be overwhelmed, but not before they had added yet another quota of death and disruption.
Beneath the helmet, his face twisted into a satisfying sneer.
***
The corporal assigned to the South face sighted along the repeater's barrel, noting the squad of men in Palace Security uniforms hurrying to the crash site. He assumed they would not expect to find the ship's occupants still alive. They were proceeding quickly, intent on speed rather than finding cover. He knew the private beside him thought the same. His assistant gunner stood ready with a bandoleer of blaster packs for the weapon, along with those collected from the riflemen, who each carried two for the repeater.
He grinned in contempt. These Naboo were soft, no match for trained warriors such as himself. He saw them break from the cover of the rubble across the street and advance into the open.
The Corporal lined up the barrel of his weapon and fired a three second burst, sweeping right to left. Four of the Naboo went down hard, a fifth screamed, clutching at a leg which was no longer there. The survivors hit the ground, searching for cover where none was nearby, knowing they could never make it in time. They attempted to retreat towards a large pile of rubble, one of the men firing blindly, a futile gesture to cover the escape of his squadmates. His shots went wide of the corporal's position, and another short burst cut down the man, a second dispatching his fleeing comrades.
He did not think of himself as an individual, merely a sentient component of a vast machine of destruction. He had no name, merely a numerical designation which identified his unit of other identical men. He had been bombarded with instructions on weapons, tactics, propoganda, military procedure and discipline, and nothing else. He thought of himself as the ultimate warrior, with absolute obedience and skills subliminally implanted into his brain, supplemented by rigorous training in the harsh jungle of Wayland. He knew surrender was disgrace and the ultimate expression of duty was an honorable death on the battlefield. He viewed his enemies with universal contempt.
All too easy.
***
Amidala's former Royal Starship, graceful in form and with mirrored hull shining in the sun, stood incongruous amid the devastation.
Ric Olie, the Naboo Senator, R2-D2, a quartet of Handmaidens, and the two Jedi stepped from the boarding ramp directly into Hell.
Theed was in ruins.
Smoke from the raging fires blackened the afternoon sky, carrying the smell of destroyed buildings, vehicles, and charred flesh throughout the city. Panicked civilians, dazed soldiers, and the less-severely wounded drifted through the shattered remains of once elegant buildings. Wrecked and burning vehicles, twisted durasteel I-beams, shards of shattered transparisteel, and chunks of permacrete clogged the streets. Even the Theed Palace itself had not escaped the destruction, its entire south façade had collapsed into a pile of rubble.
The few remaining vehicles were being used by the city's police and rescue services in desperate attempts to rescue those heard trapped inside destroyed buildings.
A haggard Captain Panaka in a singed, dust covered uniform, accompanied by an equally disheveled lieutenant approached the Senator and her party.
"Senator Naberrie," he greeted her, in an exhausted voice.
"Captain Panaka," the former Queen responded. "I heard of the attack on Coruscant and rushed here to see if I can be of any assistance." From her expression, and the strain in her voice, it was clear that the young Senator was struggling to restrain her emotions, attempting to focus on the immediate problem.
"There are enemies still in the city," he said, motioning toward the group, "the streets are unsafe. Follow me and I will get you up to speed on our situation."
They ran after Panaka, who ducked inside a small shop which was missing a wall.
An improvised command post sat inside. Maps of the city were spread out on tables and communications equipment had been hastily set up. A few tired officers and enlisted men argued with each other or spoke into static- filled comlinks.
"They hit us hard," Panaka began. "Heavy cruisers, armed with turbolasers and concussion missiles. They took out every military target in the city."
"What about the shields," asked Padme, whose shock was rapidly transforming into rage.
"A commando team went in just before the attack with false registration as a supply ship for the shield generator garrison. One of our ion batteries damaged the ship as it tried to escape, and the transport crashed into the Records Building. Somehow, the commando team survived and are holding out there. I've managed to scrape together whatever military, police, and security personnel I can find. We've sealed off the area around the building but they have too much firepower. All our heavy weapons storage facilites and airbases were destroyed in the bombardment."
"We must find a way to wipe them out. Take me to the battle, Captain."
"Senator, are you sure that is a wise decision?" asked Obi-Wan. "They clearly cannot hold out indefinitely with limited ammunition. The Captain's tactics of containment are sound."
"I am going, Jedi," Padme said, her voice again assuming the regal tone, "You are assigned to my protection, and have no authority to give me orders. If you are to protect me, you are compelled to come with me. We cannot commence with our rescue and rebuilding operations with armed enemies still threatening us."
Kenobi and Panaka exchanged a knowing glance. It was futile to argue against Padme Naberrie once she had made up her mind.
***
A few minutes later they had arrived at the scene of the battle. Panaka informed them that a motley collection of military and security troops, about two companies in strength, had taken position behind the rubble near the surrounding streets.
"What about the Gungans?" asked Padme, "their artillery would be invaluable."
"I'm sorry, Senator," Panaka explained, "but Otoh Gunga was a target of the barrage as well. Two of the cruisers were equipped with concussion missiles modified to detonate underwater."
Padme blanched, imagining the devastation of such powerful improvised depth charges on the huge underwater city.
"Then we'll have to find a way to do this ourselves," she stated, grim. "What about the tunnel passages into the building?"
"We already tried that, Senator. Concussion waves from the bombardment have collapsed most of the tunnels, and the rest are simply too unstable."
The Senator was furious. Everything seemed to be going wrong at once.
Anakin and Obi Wan, who had remained silent throughout the conversation, looked out into the streets from their vantage point behind a mound of wreckage. Perhaps fifty, sixty broken bodies lined the streets across from the Records Center. Panaka explained that the upper floor of each face was defended with a repeating blaster, and the fifty-meter approach to the once magnificent structure was somehow entirely devoid of adequate cover to assaulting troops.
"We need firepower, but we simply don't have it," Panaka pointed out, as though it were not patently obvious.
"I have an idea," offered Anakin. All heads turned toward the young Jedi.
The young Jedi addressed the leader of a nearby squad of soldiers. "Corporal, I need a few blaster packs, two comlinks, and a length of bandage roll."
The corporal, as well as the rest of his companions, met him with a quizzical look.
"And how, exactly, is that going to help us?" Sabe asked, irritated.
"I'm going to take out one of those blasters, of course," he said, grinning.
***
A few minutes later, Anakin had, with the help of some tools and a spare power cell for his lightsaber, assembled his strange device.
"It should work," he explained to his audience. "I've wired the power cell to the outlet port of one of the blaster cartridges and then attached the power switch to one of the comlinks. The comlinks are set on an identical, exclusive frequency." The entire assembly was wrapped tightly in the bandage roll, with about a half meter strip extending from the bundle.
Panaka actually looked impressed. "Remotely detonated mine," he said. "It could work."
"But how are you going to get there?" asked Padme, pointing to the enemy- held building.
"That's the difficult part of the plan," Anakin answered. "I can't block repeating blaster shots with my saber, but if the Captain can have his men create a diversion, I've seen a route I can use to approach one of those positions. Once one of those blasters is down, they won't be able to redeploy without leaving one of the walls undefended."
"Our mission is to guard the Senator, Anakin, not to engage in firefights," interjected Obi-Wan.
"Master, would you not agree that the presence of highly trained hostile soldiers in the Senator's immediate vicinity constitutes a threat?" asked Anakin in protest. "Only you and I could hope to make it across that street alive, and I have quicker reflexes of the two of us."
Obi Wan sighed, reluctantly. Much like the Senator, Anakin could be incredibly stubborn . And he did have a point. Obi Wan had much more combat experience, but Anakin was young and incredibly quick.
"Very well, Anakin. But don't do anything stupid."
Anakin raised his eyes above the pile of debris, and spotted the charred wreckage of an overturned landspeeder sitting in the middle of the street, two hundred meters to his right.
"I'll make my approach from that direction," he said. "I can use the speeder for cover before I run the last hundred meters."
He tucked the bomb into the belt of his robe and began slowly edging his way toward another huge debris pile.
***
Twenty minutes later Anakin had reached his destination. He crouched, a ball of muscular tension ready to spring. The blaster fired sporadically, working over the corpses in the street and firing at the Naboo positions to keep the soldiers pinned. Anakin knew they were intent on conserving their finite ammunition supply. Extending his head around the edge of his improvised cover, he eyed the speeder, a hundred meters in front of his position. He looked over at Kenobi, who was watching from his former perch, and flashed a hand signal.
At once, sixty Naboo soldiers appeared and began pumping a huge volume of fire in the general direction of the enemy position. Anakin sprang forward, using the Force to augment his speed and weaving an erratic, broken pattern in his run and crouching forward to make himself a much more difficult target. He saw the stream of bolts from the repeating blaster slew rapidly in his direction as he dived, somersaulting forward upon hitting the ground, and threw himself flat against the speeder's carcass. The blaster fired again, gouging holes in his improvised cover, but Anakin knew they would waste way too much ammunition burning through the wreck if they tried.
Except now they knew where he was, and his probable intention.
The fire of the Naboo troops slackened as they returned to cover. The repeater had managed to take out a handful as they exposed themselves to fire, and they had no desire to suffer any more casualties.
Anakin peeked around the rear of the vehicle, realizing he was only 50 meters from his goal. Eventually, he would get close enough to the base of the building so that the repeater crew could not depress the weapon's barrel far enough to hit him.
The Naboo opened fire again, and the blaster began to turn back to their position, taking down more men. Anakin saw his chance and sprinted forward, impossibly fast. He reached the base of the wall. The walkway comprising the structure's perimiter was covered by the ceiling of the second floor, shielding him from sight. He knew the blaster position was six floors up and seventy five meters to the left.
He removed the bomb from his belt, and grasped the improvised comlink detonator in his other hand.
He dashed forward, sensing the presence of the enemy in the Force, yet the signature of the commandos was somehow…out of place. He had no time to speculate, however. He stepped forward, emerging from under the overhang. He grasped his weapon by the length of bandage roll in his right hand and swung it in an ever-increasing arc.
Anakin took a final step forward and hurled the projectile upward, guiding it in the Force with his now-free hand.
The missile sailed through the open window housing the gun position.
Anakin rushed back under the overhanging cover, flattened himself on the ground, and pressed the comlink's transmit button.
A deafening explosion and accompanying concussion wave hammered him as the bomb exploded, hurling chunks of permacrete, splinters of transparisteel, and broken armored bodies into the street.
He looked to the Naboo position, saw Obi Wan, Padme, the Handmaidens, and Captain Panaka leap forward from cover. Padme waved a blaster pistol in hand, gesturing to the rest of the men to follow, as fifty Naboo soldiers surged forward behind her. Obi Wan had his saber ready.
He felt the strange Force presence again and dived to the left, just as the window behind him exploded outward, thousands of lethal transparisteel splinters scything through the air where he had just been. Anakin drew his saber and ignited it, leaping through the blasted-out window and into the building. The first floor was sparse in terms of cover, and the commandos had sent men down to deal with the new threat. Seeing nothing to hide behind and spying three gray-armored soldiers, carbines held level, he knew he would have to rely on his Jedi skills.
A barrage of blaster bolts flew directly at him, but Anakin, feeling the Force flow through him, blocked each of the deadly shots with ease, managing to take one of the men down with a deflected bolt.
Then suddenly Padme and his Master burst through a nearby door. While Obi- Wan turned aside blaster shots shots, Padme fired her blaster pistol twice, hitting one soldier in the chest and the other in the shoulder.
The attackers rushed forward, bypassing the turbolifts, which were no doubt sabotaged, and heading for the elegant spiral staircase in the center of the vast room. More of the gray armored commandos appeared, and managed to down two of the Naboo before they were quickly dispatched.
***
The Lieutenant had expected to be overwhelmed eventually. He ran to the position on the East face, finding four riflemen. "Come with me!" he barked.
Perhaps he could escape to cause the Naboo even greater grief.
The lieutenant unstrapped himself from the cockpit, which was rapidly filling with suffocating gas from the fire extinguishing system. He balanced on the slanting cabin floor, and bolted through the door to the main cargo hold.
"Grab your gear and heavy weapons," he ordered the men, who were already rising from their seats and charging blaster carbines. "We're going to secure and hold this building."
The soldiers poured from the freighter into the damaged upper floor of the Records Center, gunning down those who had not already begun to flee in terror.
***
Ten minutes later, the platoon had eliminated those who had not been able to escape.
The lieutenant removed a map of the city from one of his pockets, quickly determining their location from his memory of the chaotic trip down. The Records building stood alone, flanked by wide streets on each side and to front and rear. The shuttle had crashed on the top floor, the sixth, but the structural integrity of the building was not compromised, a tribute to the classically beautiful yet well-engineered Naboo architecture.
His forty-man platoon consisted of four nine man squads and the tiny command staff. Each squad had a repeating blaster team of two men. He paused for a moment, staring at the map, remembering his flash-training lessons on urban combat. He mentally retrieved a lesson entitled "Defense of an occupied structure."
"Send one squad to the top floor on each face. Position our repeater teams to cover the streets with riflemen in support."
"Yes, sir!" the sergeant responded, snapping a parade-ground salute.
The lieutenant felt confident. The wide streets gave his men superb fields of fire and they carried enough blaster packs for the repeaters to hold out for quite some time. His men would eventually be overwhelmed, but not before they had added yet another quota of death and disruption.
Beneath the helmet, his face twisted into a satisfying sneer.
***
The corporal assigned to the South face sighted along the repeater's barrel, noting the squad of men in Palace Security uniforms hurrying to the crash site. He assumed they would not expect to find the ship's occupants still alive. They were proceeding quickly, intent on speed rather than finding cover. He knew the private beside him thought the same. His assistant gunner stood ready with a bandoleer of blaster packs for the weapon, along with those collected from the riflemen, who each carried two for the repeater.
He grinned in contempt. These Naboo were soft, no match for trained warriors such as himself. He saw them break from the cover of the rubble across the street and advance into the open.
The Corporal lined up the barrel of his weapon and fired a three second burst, sweeping right to left. Four of the Naboo went down hard, a fifth screamed, clutching at a leg which was no longer there. The survivors hit the ground, searching for cover where none was nearby, knowing they could never make it in time. They attempted to retreat towards a large pile of rubble, one of the men firing blindly, a futile gesture to cover the escape of his squadmates. His shots went wide of the corporal's position, and another short burst cut down the man, a second dispatching his fleeing comrades.
He did not think of himself as an individual, merely a sentient component of a vast machine of destruction. He had no name, merely a numerical designation which identified his unit of other identical men. He had been bombarded with instructions on weapons, tactics, propoganda, military procedure and discipline, and nothing else. He thought of himself as the ultimate warrior, with absolute obedience and skills subliminally implanted into his brain, supplemented by rigorous training in the harsh jungle of Wayland. He knew surrender was disgrace and the ultimate expression of duty was an honorable death on the battlefield. He viewed his enemies with universal contempt.
All too easy.
***
Amidala's former Royal Starship, graceful in form and with mirrored hull shining in the sun, stood incongruous amid the devastation.
Ric Olie, the Naboo Senator, R2-D2, a quartet of Handmaidens, and the two Jedi stepped from the boarding ramp directly into Hell.
Theed was in ruins.
Smoke from the raging fires blackened the afternoon sky, carrying the smell of destroyed buildings, vehicles, and charred flesh throughout the city. Panicked civilians, dazed soldiers, and the less-severely wounded drifted through the shattered remains of once elegant buildings. Wrecked and burning vehicles, twisted durasteel I-beams, shards of shattered transparisteel, and chunks of permacrete clogged the streets. Even the Theed Palace itself had not escaped the destruction, its entire south façade had collapsed into a pile of rubble.
The few remaining vehicles were being used by the city's police and rescue services in desperate attempts to rescue those heard trapped inside destroyed buildings.
A haggard Captain Panaka in a singed, dust covered uniform, accompanied by an equally disheveled lieutenant approached the Senator and her party.
"Senator Naberrie," he greeted her, in an exhausted voice.
"Captain Panaka," the former Queen responded. "I heard of the attack on Coruscant and rushed here to see if I can be of any assistance." From her expression, and the strain in her voice, it was clear that the young Senator was struggling to restrain her emotions, attempting to focus on the immediate problem.
"There are enemies still in the city," he said, motioning toward the group, "the streets are unsafe. Follow me and I will get you up to speed on our situation."
They ran after Panaka, who ducked inside a small shop which was missing a wall.
An improvised command post sat inside. Maps of the city were spread out on tables and communications equipment had been hastily set up. A few tired officers and enlisted men argued with each other or spoke into static- filled comlinks.
"They hit us hard," Panaka began. "Heavy cruisers, armed with turbolasers and concussion missiles. They took out every military target in the city."
"What about the shields," asked Padme, whose shock was rapidly transforming into rage.
"A commando team went in just before the attack with false registration as a supply ship for the shield generator garrison. One of our ion batteries damaged the ship as it tried to escape, and the transport crashed into the Records Building. Somehow, the commando team survived and are holding out there. I've managed to scrape together whatever military, police, and security personnel I can find. We've sealed off the area around the building but they have too much firepower. All our heavy weapons storage facilites and airbases were destroyed in the bombardment."
"We must find a way to wipe them out. Take me to the battle, Captain."
"Senator, are you sure that is a wise decision?" asked Obi-Wan. "They clearly cannot hold out indefinitely with limited ammunition. The Captain's tactics of containment are sound."
"I am going, Jedi," Padme said, her voice again assuming the regal tone, "You are assigned to my protection, and have no authority to give me orders. If you are to protect me, you are compelled to come with me. We cannot commence with our rescue and rebuilding operations with armed enemies still threatening us."
Kenobi and Panaka exchanged a knowing glance. It was futile to argue against Padme Naberrie once she had made up her mind.
***
A few minutes later they had arrived at the scene of the battle. Panaka informed them that a motley collection of military and security troops, about two companies in strength, had taken position behind the rubble near the surrounding streets.
"What about the Gungans?" asked Padme, "their artillery would be invaluable."
"I'm sorry, Senator," Panaka explained, "but Otoh Gunga was a target of the barrage as well. Two of the cruisers were equipped with concussion missiles modified to detonate underwater."
Padme blanched, imagining the devastation of such powerful improvised depth charges on the huge underwater city.
"Then we'll have to find a way to do this ourselves," she stated, grim. "What about the tunnel passages into the building?"
"We already tried that, Senator. Concussion waves from the bombardment have collapsed most of the tunnels, and the rest are simply too unstable."
The Senator was furious. Everything seemed to be going wrong at once.
Anakin and Obi Wan, who had remained silent throughout the conversation, looked out into the streets from their vantage point behind a mound of wreckage. Perhaps fifty, sixty broken bodies lined the streets across from the Records Center. Panaka explained that the upper floor of each face was defended with a repeating blaster, and the fifty-meter approach to the once magnificent structure was somehow entirely devoid of adequate cover to assaulting troops.
"We need firepower, but we simply don't have it," Panaka pointed out, as though it were not patently obvious.
"I have an idea," offered Anakin. All heads turned toward the young Jedi.
The young Jedi addressed the leader of a nearby squad of soldiers. "Corporal, I need a few blaster packs, two comlinks, and a length of bandage roll."
The corporal, as well as the rest of his companions, met him with a quizzical look.
"And how, exactly, is that going to help us?" Sabe asked, irritated.
"I'm going to take out one of those blasters, of course," he said, grinning.
***
A few minutes later, Anakin had, with the help of some tools and a spare power cell for his lightsaber, assembled his strange device.
"It should work," he explained to his audience. "I've wired the power cell to the outlet port of one of the blaster cartridges and then attached the power switch to one of the comlinks. The comlinks are set on an identical, exclusive frequency." The entire assembly was wrapped tightly in the bandage roll, with about a half meter strip extending from the bundle.
Panaka actually looked impressed. "Remotely detonated mine," he said. "It could work."
"But how are you going to get there?" asked Padme, pointing to the enemy- held building.
"That's the difficult part of the plan," Anakin answered. "I can't block repeating blaster shots with my saber, but if the Captain can have his men create a diversion, I've seen a route I can use to approach one of those positions. Once one of those blasters is down, they won't be able to redeploy without leaving one of the walls undefended."
"Our mission is to guard the Senator, Anakin, not to engage in firefights," interjected Obi-Wan.
"Master, would you not agree that the presence of highly trained hostile soldiers in the Senator's immediate vicinity constitutes a threat?" asked Anakin in protest. "Only you and I could hope to make it across that street alive, and I have quicker reflexes of the two of us."
Obi Wan sighed, reluctantly. Much like the Senator, Anakin could be incredibly stubborn . And he did have a point. Obi Wan had much more combat experience, but Anakin was young and incredibly quick.
"Very well, Anakin. But don't do anything stupid."
Anakin raised his eyes above the pile of debris, and spotted the charred wreckage of an overturned landspeeder sitting in the middle of the street, two hundred meters to his right.
"I'll make my approach from that direction," he said. "I can use the speeder for cover before I run the last hundred meters."
He tucked the bomb into the belt of his robe and began slowly edging his way toward another huge debris pile.
***
Twenty minutes later Anakin had reached his destination. He crouched, a ball of muscular tension ready to spring. The blaster fired sporadically, working over the corpses in the street and firing at the Naboo positions to keep the soldiers pinned. Anakin knew they were intent on conserving their finite ammunition supply. Extending his head around the edge of his improvised cover, he eyed the speeder, a hundred meters in front of his position. He looked over at Kenobi, who was watching from his former perch, and flashed a hand signal.
At once, sixty Naboo soldiers appeared and began pumping a huge volume of fire in the general direction of the enemy position. Anakin sprang forward, using the Force to augment his speed and weaving an erratic, broken pattern in his run and crouching forward to make himself a much more difficult target. He saw the stream of bolts from the repeating blaster slew rapidly in his direction as he dived, somersaulting forward upon hitting the ground, and threw himself flat against the speeder's carcass. The blaster fired again, gouging holes in his improvised cover, but Anakin knew they would waste way too much ammunition burning through the wreck if they tried.
Except now they knew where he was, and his probable intention.
The fire of the Naboo troops slackened as they returned to cover. The repeater had managed to take out a handful as they exposed themselves to fire, and they had no desire to suffer any more casualties.
Anakin peeked around the rear of the vehicle, realizing he was only 50 meters from his goal. Eventually, he would get close enough to the base of the building so that the repeater crew could not depress the weapon's barrel far enough to hit him.
The Naboo opened fire again, and the blaster began to turn back to their position, taking down more men. Anakin saw his chance and sprinted forward, impossibly fast. He reached the base of the wall. The walkway comprising the structure's perimiter was covered by the ceiling of the second floor, shielding him from sight. He knew the blaster position was six floors up and seventy five meters to the left.
He removed the bomb from his belt, and grasped the improvised comlink detonator in his other hand.
He dashed forward, sensing the presence of the enemy in the Force, yet the signature of the commandos was somehow…out of place. He had no time to speculate, however. He stepped forward, emerging from under the overhang. He grasped his weapon by the length of bandage roll in his right hand and swung it in an ever-increasing arc.
Anakin took a final step forward and hurled the projectile upward, guiding it in the Force with his now-free hand.
The missile sailed through the open window housing the gun position.
Anakin rushed back under the overhanging cover, flattened himself on the ground, and pressed the comlink's transmit button.
A deafening explosion and accompanying concussion wave hammered him as the bomb exploded, hurling chunks of permacrete, splinters of transparisteel, and broken armored bodies into the street.
He looked to the Naboo position, saw Obi Wan, Padme, the Handmaidens, and Captain Panaka leap forward from cover. Padme waved a blaster pistol in hand, gesturing to the rest of the men to follow, as fifty Naboo soldiers surged forward behind her. Obi Wan had his saber ready.
He felt the strange Force presence again and dived to the left, just as the window behind him exploded outward, thousands of lethal transparisteel splinters scything through the air where he had just been. Anakin drew his saber and ignited it, leaping through the blasted-out window and into the building. The first floor was sparse in terms of cover, and the commandos had sent men down to deal with the new threat. Seeing nothing to hide behind and spying three gray-armored soldiers, carbines held level, he knew he would have to rely on his Jedi skills.
A barrage of blaster bolts flew directly at him, but Anakin, feeling the Force flow through him, blocked each of the deadly shots with ease, managing to take one of the men down with a deflected bolt.
Then suddenly Padme and his Master burst through a nearby door. While Obi- Wan turned aside blaster shots shots, Padme fired her blaster pistol twice, hitting one soldier in the chest and the other in the shoulder.
The attackers rushed forward, bypassing the turbolifts, which were no doubt sabotaged, and heading for the elegant spiral staircase in the center of the vast room. More of the gray armored commandos appeared, and managed to down two of the Naboo before they were quickly dispatched.
***
The Lieutenant had expected to be overwhelmed eventually. He ran to the position on the East face, finding four riflemen. "Come with me!" he barked.
Perhaps he could escape to cause the Naboo even greater grief.
