To an observer looking on from the fortifications along the southern coast
of Aldera, it was a strangely beautiful sight, utterly belying the promise
of destruction and death to follow.
As Alderaan's primary rose into a brilliant orange sky, thousands of tiny black dots appeared over the distant horizon, reaching up thousands of meters to the stratosphere and beyond, slowly, ever so slowly, but inevitably coming closer and closer by the instant.
A rain of turbolaser fire from three Dreadnaughts proceeded them, hundreds of energy bolts raking the Mandalore defenses.
The gunships came behind as the bombardment lifted, almost insectile in appearance, with bulging canopies, fat bodies, and stubby rectangular wings from which were suspended oblong cylinders. They rushed forward, deployed from the large carriers which conveyed them to the surface from space, skimming only meters above the eerily calm ocean at a deceptively frightening speed, spread out in small wedge-shaped formations. The lead formations pulled up when reaching the shore and the pilots throttled back the engines, leaving them hanging almost motionless in the air, nose cannon slowly tracking right and left, the repulsorlifts and ion drives kicking up huge clouds of sand and deafening those foolish enough to be exposed without audio-dampened helmets. In unison, they began unleashing clouds of rockets from under the wings, as their blaster cannon fired incessantly, sweeping along the trenches, searching out anything foolish enough to move which might remotely resemble a threat.
Soon, the entire trenchline was obscured in thick smoke and dust as rockets expended, the gunships roared away and for a moment, all was eerie silence save for a few secondary explosions and roaring fires of burning equipment.
The main assault wave, thousands of shuttles mixed with larger transports and more protective gunships, was now only kilometers away, and the beach came to life as Mandalorian soldiers, hiding deep underground during the bombardment, came forward to man the trenches and bunkers. Several carried shoulder-fired surface to air missiles, rockets from the trenches and hidden batteries behind them, and from a few of the long-ranged emplacements in the city itself streaked out toward the descending armada, blotting transports from the sky in fiery explosions, while others radically evaded, attempting to avoid colliding with other ships nearby, and others limped toward the beach or the ocean, trailing smoke.
Gunships began to break formation and streak forward, firing at flashes, trying to suppress the missile crews as the first few transports began to flare, ready to disgorge their troops. One dissappeared in an explosion, flipped over on its back by a repulsorlift-activated mine, smoke pouring from the repulsor drives and open hatches as screaming, stricken men clambered out onto the beach, rolling around in the sand in agony. But more transports began landing, the clamshell doors in the rear of the ships opening as infantrymen began pouring out, weapons ready, squad support weapons opening up suppressive fire as others joined in with carbines, the troops moving in short rushes, crouched low to the ground, heading for craters, large rock formations, dunes, anything that would provide cover.
Slowly they began to gather, in small and then larger groups, those who could not find their nearby formations heading for whatever position they could see. Transports, once free of their cargo, began to turn about and return to their ships, making room for more to land.
**
Obi-Wan did his best to calm himself. Perhaps it was the Naboo officer's uniform - to a man accustomed to wearing Jedi robes every day of his life, the maroon uniform with its protective armor and major's insignia - made him feel strange, feel almost naked despite the protective gear. As if to symbolize a man out of his element, he wore his decidedly non-regulation lightsaber on one hip, and a standard issue blaster, which he thought a terribly crude, random weapon for a Jedi, on the other.
Beside him, Sabe stopped honing the wicked-looking vibroblade and slipped it into a sheath on her calf-high combat boots the handmaidens wore into battle. Others were going through last-minute checks of weapons and equipment. In usual operations, the headquarters unit did not become involved in close combat, but their shuttle was to land immediately behind the batallion's three infantry companies, weapons company, and engineer platoon. The impression in the Force was mixed fear, adrenaline, anticipation, and anger against the brutal enemy. Many of the soldiers had families killed or displaced in Theed.
He was nervous. Obi-Wan was no stranger to combat, but a full-scale battle was a new experience. Here, the opponent was not often in saber and pistol range, and death could come from a nameless artillery shell fired from dozens of kilometers away. As a Jedi, he was trained in the operations of the Republic's major institutions, including the military. He recalled lectures from the Military Academy's instructors on the history, art, and science of war, and on the Republic's armed forces. He had an excellent memory, and seemed to display an aptitude for the principles of warfare, but his rather scant knowledge was little comfort.
He had done his best to familiarize himself with his duties. As an assistant to Padme's staff, he was not leading men in the field directly, but as an officer responsible in helping the commander make informed decisions, his failure could still result in large numbers of casualties. It was a sobering thought, and he asked the Force for guidance so that he might prove worthy of the task.
**
"Lord Raptor," the General of Artillery said, "our forward units report the enemy troops unloading from their transports in large numbers."
In his position in a public park near the city center, nine batteries, each with four 200-millimeter heavy long-range field guns, waited for orders. The weapons were already loaded, the crews standing at ready. Raptor had pooled all the heaviest field gun units, the ones with sufficient range to reach the beaches from the inner city, from his 3-division corps and placed them under his command as the Corps Chief of Artillery. They were masked from the air by camoflauge nets, trees, and the fires set in the city from huge piles of combustible materials to make it difficult for ships orbiting above to locate his positions.
His guns were registered on the beaches days before in anticipation of an assault landing. The rain of shells, modified concussion missile warheads fitted with fragmenting alloy jackets, would devastate the enemy troops when they were most vulnerable - on the beach, exposed, and without armor or heavy support weapons. If they tried to advance from under the murderous barrage, they would be mowed down by the men in the bunkers and trenches.
Raptor's voice came through the comlink only a moment later, though it seemed much longer.
"Your batteries are released, General."
The officer smiled and switched his comm. Frequency to his battalion commanders. "Continuous fire, all batteries."
The ground shook as the huge artillery pieces fired, reverse-polarity magnetic fields hurtling the heavy shells down dozen-meter barrels, moments later followed by huge rippling booms as the projectiles hurtled through the sound barrier. The heavy untility landspeeders providing massive electric current to the guns recharged as the gunners reloaded the weapons, placing shells in loading trays for rammers to shove them into the weapons' breeches. Fifteen seconds later, the guns fired again with another devastating salvo.
**
The shuttle bucked with increasing turbulence as it entered the denser air at sea level. Despite the armored construction of the platoon-carrying assault shuttle, he could hear huge explosions and sense the chaos below him. It was maddening to be in a transparisteel box without even windows to see the battlefield below. There was another explosion, much nearer this time, followed by a hammering shock wave. One of the transports must have been hit, Obi-Wan thought.
A small green light next to the shuttle's exit ramp in the stern flickered into life. The loadmaster took position near the ramp's operating switch.
"Sixty seconds!" he called out. "Stand in the door!" The men and women rose, unstrapping from their seat harnesses and grabbing the hand rails mounted on the cabin ceiling to steady themselves against the buffeting.
"Everyone find cover as soon as you hit the beach!" Padme yelled.
"Thirty seconds!"
There were several "clicks" of blasters being readied and ruffling sounds as soldiers checked their gear for the last time.
The transport's descent slowed, deceleration pushing them downwards, and the floor tilted up at an angle. The ship held steady, no longer descending, hovering just above the ground below.
There was a loud metallic clank as the ramp release engaged, and then a high-pitched whine of servomotors.
The sound of explosions intensified around him, hammering his eardrums and shaking the vessel. A blast of cold air rushed in through the open cabin.
"Go! Go! Go!" the loadmaster shouted. The first rank of five soldiers moved forward and jumped down to the beach. Obi-Wan's file was next as he leapt from the metal ramp and planted his boots onto the surface of hell.
**
Obi-Wan crouched and stepped through the billowing sand thrown upward by the assault shuttle's repulsors. Blaster bolts impacted the beach all around him, making popping noises and small fountains of sand. He saw a shell crater ahead and rushed forward, diving for cover.
Bright flashes of flame and smoke, accompanied by deep thunderclaps and pounding concussion waves, exploded all along the beach. Padme and the rest of the headquarters unit fell into the crater around him.
He peered over the crater's rim, seeing death and destruction all around. Burning and wrecked assault shuttles, scattered equipment, and bodies covered the beach. Men huddled near whatever cover they could find seeking shelter from the barrage and repeating blaster fire from the bunkers. Many were hit as they scrambled to new positions.
Padme pulled out her comlink.
"This is Alpha Lead, all units report in!"
Obi-Wan listened with dismay as the unit commanders reported their situations. A Company, ahead and on the left flank, had lost its entire first platoon, shot down in their transport. B company in the center reported taking heavy casualties from artillery fire. C Company, on the right, was little better. The engineer platoon had become separated from the formation when their transport had dodged an incoming missile, and were pinned down and unable to rejoin the rest of the battalion. D Company, the mortar unit, reported no casualties and the crews were attempting to set up their weapons behind the hulk of a burning transport.
There was no word from the commander of the Corellian combat engineer company that Corps had attached to their sector.
The batallion's objective loomed far ahead and to the right, a outward- jutting rock formation with relatively shallow slopes covered with armored bunkers. The bunkers protected the flanks of the approach to the easternmost of the three main roads leading to the city. The engineers were to assault the bunkers and the infantrymen to follow and clear a sector of trenches, then hold the flanks of the breach against any counterattacks.
However, unless someone could stop the rain of artillery fire and suppress the bunkers, their task would be impossible.
**
The Corellian Corvette Shadowwraith hovered dozens of kilometers above the battlefield. The ship was a prototype of a unique class of specialized vessel intended for supporting ground assaults. Unfortunately, only two vessels were completed before the Senate cancelled the program. Now, however, she would be put to the test.
"Target acquired," a youthful Gran ensign reported from his sensor station on the vessel's hammerhead bridge. "Enemy heavy artillery park, estimate regimental strength, co-ordinates CZ09341."
The vessel's advanced sensors, though unable to pierce the obscuring clouds of black smoke from the burning city, were nonetheless able to detect the artillery shells being fired from an unknown source, analyze the data, compute their trajectory, and arrive at the point of the projectiles' origin.
"Excellent work, Ensign Ahk," the Rodian female commanding Shadowwraith said. She counted herself lucky the enemy guns were not widely dispersed, as her ship's primary weapon system could fire only one salvo. "It's time we show the credit-pinchers in the Senate what this rustbucket can do, and prevent our troops from getting slaughtered down there. Chief Gunnery Officer Sojaran, open fire."
**
The Shadowwraith's "thorax" section between the bridge and engine bank set her apart from other ships of similar design. The ship was designed as the first of a new class of support weapon, the Shadow class artillery suppression platform. Her center section was lengthened twenty meters and widened by two meters. The modification allowed for a central weapons bay which held eighty downward-pointing heavy concussion missile launch tubes. Her light blue color scheme made of specially absorptive paint and state-of- the-art passive sensors, combined with her high operating altitude and powerful antigravs enabling her to hang motionless above her target, made the vessel both deadly and nearly invisible.
At Sorjoran's orders, the weapons bay doors folded outward and the missile tubes fired in one huge blast, sending lethal projectiles streaking towards the center of Aldera.
**
The General of Artillery smiled beneath his helmet. His batteries were slaughtering the enemy, many caught in the first salvo, while observers stationed in the trenches called in precise targeting data on groups of pinned-down infantry. No naval fire had engaged his guns, and the enemy had no artillery of sufficient range or power to reach his firing positions.
It was going to be a massacre.
His thoughts were interrupted by a howling shriek from above. He threw himself to the bottom of his command pit as the air itself seemed to explode at once, and then grow silent. He stood, taking in the scene around him. The rich grass of the park had vanished, replaced by a field of huge craters. His batteries were in shambles, guns overturned, crews lying dead next to the guns or flung meters away and landing in odd juxtapositions atop burning vehicles and equipment. A group of unexploded shells ignited, the blast wave slamming him to the ground.
The men in the trenches would have to repel the enemy alone.
**
"Blue Squadron, Lead. Status report."
The chorus of responses indicated varying degrees of damage to the Headhunters, though none imminently fatal. The enemy battlecruiser's detonation had sent massive waves of electromagnetic radiation blasting through space, overloading the fighters' rear shields and damaging sensitive equipment such as sensor arrays. The enemy force had retreated, and there was no immediate threat, but all of the fighters were running low on fuel and in need of a hangar berth. If Anakin didn't find a ship soon, they would need to be tractored on board one of the cruisers.
Anakin tuned his comm to the emergency frequency. "This is Blue Squadron of the 146th Starfighter Wing, requesting pickup, over."
**
Haas stared at the man in disbelief.
"One of our snubfighters took out that cruiser, Commander?"
"That's what Vigilant's data stream would indicate, sir. Just before the detonation one of the 146th's fighters launched a torpedo that appeared to penetrate the battlecruiser's hangar shields, and when we slowed down the recording, the ship appeared to explode from her inside-out."
Haas nodded. He couldn't argue with the man's assessment or the evidence, and he had seen some strange things happen in combat, some of which turned the tide of an engagement. "Very well. Find out who those pilots were and tell my chief of staff for Personell to put in some reccommendations. That fighter jock deserves the Hero of the Republic for this, and a Senate Cross for the rest of the squadron. What's the situation with the fleet?"
Non Niem, a Sullistan staff member, began to report. "Admiral sir, we have recieved status reports from all squadron and task force commanders, and are assigning task forces of repair and replinishment ships to the most seriously damaged vessels. Preliminary estimates suggest our combat capability is down to forty percent, possibly sixty percent with another forty-eight hours for repairs."
Haas swore. "They hurt us, and hurt us badly. If they send in another fleet, it'll mean serious trouble. Operations, deploy the least damaged of our cruisers between the transports and the enemy's last exit vector, and get me as many frigates as you can scrape together to cover our cripples. Secondly, we're going to have bad news for Organa. Tell him he's on his own for now, we don't have the ships to spare for ground support."
"Sir," a young communications officer said, "we're getting transmissions from several understrength fighter squadrons whose home vessels have been destroyed. Many are damaged and low on fuel."
Haas turned to face the young Lieutenant. "Have our fighter controllers sort this out, most heavily damaged ships getting first priority."
"Yes, Sir."
Haas turned to the Victory's commander. "What's our own fighter compliment, Captain?"
"We've lost nearly half, Admiral. We can take on several of the half- squadrons, more if we reconfigure our main hangar space."
Haas nodded. "Good. Do it."
"Admiral, we're getting a transmission from one of the Freedom's squadrons."
"So they did make it. Excellent. I want to talk to the squadron leader personally. Give them immediate clearance for pickup."
"Yes, sir."
Haas turned to his Intelligence Chief. "I'm ordering your men to have first priority on any prisoners or material we recover from the enemy ships. I want them to go through any vessels centimeter-by-centimeter and prepare a full report. We haven't seen the last of them, and I'll be damned if our men have to do this again without a better picture of enemy capabilities..."
**
The explosions continued to pummel the beachhead, throwing sand, equipment, and bodies dozens of meters into the air...and then, as suddenly as it had erupted, the succession of impacting rounds fell silent. However, the volume of fire from the entrenched Mandalorians holding the ridgeline failed to diminish in intensity.
Obi-Wan huddled in a shell crater with the rest of the Naboo battallion's headquarters staff.
"We didn't expect this kind of artillery fire, Ma'am," Major Daltra, the unit's intelligence officer, said.
"I know, Major. It looks like heavy field guns, they could be anywhere within several dozen kilometers from here. If the enemy concealed them well enough or moved them before the assault, our intel could have missed them. Fleet may have just taken them out."
"Good they seem to be supporting us for a change. That bombardment barely scratched their defenses."
Padme nodded and switched her comlink channel. "Lieutenant Tinaka, status report." After a moment's silence, she repeated the transmission, and then turned towards her staff officers. "No word from the Corellians. The engineers are ahead and to our left, but I can't raise them on the comm. It looks like we are going to have to take the objective ourselves."
"But that's madness," Daltra said, taking out a map flimsy and unfolding it on the ground below. He pointed to the objective, a narrow outjutting section of ridge covered with several bunkers. "This terrain gives us no cover. We have almost two kilometers of open ground to traverse under fire from their heavy repeaters. We have no weapons heavy enough to suppress their defenses while we advance, no help from the Fleet, and no air support. You're talking about suicide."
Padme cut him off. "I am aware of the difficulties, Major. However, it remains that unless we secure our objective," she said, pointing to the map, "any force trying to secure the main road is going to come under enfilading fire from here, as well as to their front" she explained, indicating the section of ridge. "If we don't take our objective, there is no way we are going to get that road opened. We have an engineer platoon capable of taking down those bunkers, but we need to re-establish contact."
Obi-Wan, who had been silent, spoke up.
"I'll go."
Padme looked at him, surprised. "I need you here, Major Kenobi, and you have a good chance of getting killed if you break cover."
Obi-Wan nodded. "You're right. But I'm the "extra man" on your staff, and I have a functioning comlink. I can go forward and find out what the situation is and report back. And you're forgetting, Ma'am, that I'm a Jedi. I won't be an easy target for those bunker gunners."
"Very well. I may not like it, but we are short on options at the moment."
**
"They're murdering us out here. Let's move inland and get murdered."
-Col. Charles Canham, Omaha Beach, Normandy, June 6, 1944
Obi-Wan shot upward, feet propelled by the impromptu stirrups formed by the cupped hands of two of the enlisted men serving as the headquarter's security detail.
He advanced at a crouch toward a wrecked assault transport perhaps fifty meters ahead and to his right. As he ran, blaster fire kicked up the sand around him, gathering in intensity. He made himself a hard target, taking an erratic course, and staying as low as possible. HE halted a moment later after diving behind the assault transport's shattered, blackened stern, and heard the sound of blaster bolts hitting against the metal hull. Slowly, he made his way down the angled starboard side of the shuttle, still under the hull's cover and protection. He peered around the charred cockpit, careful not to touch the still-hot surface, and spied his destination - a small shell crater about three hundred meters away. A short distance, unless one happened to be crossing an open area covered by hostile repeating blasters. He calmed himself, reaching into the Force to steady his nerves and rapidly- beating heart. His right hand went to his lightsaber, the blaster pistol useless at long range. He took several deep breaths and counted to ten, then broke cover in a dead run.
**
"Jedi!" the Lieutenant shouted, seeing the glow of the lightsaber move along the ground ahead. "Concentrate your fire!"
The gunner traversed his weapon in obedience, lining up the sights. His gun had reaped a rich harvest among the enemy soldiers foolish enough to attempt an advance, and pinning down those huddling in shell craters. Not a single bunker had been damaged by the enemy so far, and it seemed as if he could hold out indefinitely.
He lined up the Jedi in his sights and squeezed off a burst. Sand fountained upwards from the rounds, which fell short, obscuring the man, the glow of the saber was dimly visible, still moving. The gunner swore and fired again, closer this time, yet was amazed when the figure stopped and deflected two of the bolts with his blade.
"Oh, you're going to die, Jedi," the gunner snarled, opening fire again, but his target had dissappeared. He could no longer see the saber glow, only the sprawled shapes of bodies in the maroon Naboo uniforms. He began working the bodies over...perhaps the Jedi was among them, or was using them for cover. However, more fountains of sand from the other weapons rose, obscuring his line of sight once again. The gunner fired several short bursts aimed randomly, hoping to pin the Jedi down, if not kill him.
There! The man broke cover again, running toward a nearby crater at a speed which could not quite be described as possible for a human. He fired off a few short bursts before his target reached cover.
I'll be waiting when you advance, Jedi scum, he said to himself.
**
Obi-Wan slid down into the crater, or rather, jumped and landed hard on his rear after a brief slide down the sandy, sloping walls.
Several engineers, a squad of them, had found shelter there. The men looked, startled to see Obi-Wan's arrival in their impromptu shelter.
"Major, sir," one man said, Obi Wan saw from his shoulder insignia that he was the platoon sergeant.
"Where's your Lieutenant?"
The man gestured towards the far edge of the crater. A man with a corpse- pale face, covered with beaded sweat, huddled, shaking violently, sitting upright and clasping knees to his chest.
"He's not wounded, Major, but he's...well, lost his nerves. He won't listen to anyone, just stares at them. Cracked up," the man went on, "he saw half a squad torn to pieces by a single shell, Sir, and his comlink stopped a blaster bolt that knocked him flat." The man's tone carried a hint of sympathy for his young platoon leader - "I've seen combat before, and let me tell you, it ain't pretty. This is the worst I've ever seen, and I've seen good men in training come apart in combat a lot less severe than this."
Obi-Wan nodded. "So the platoon is yours, now. I've come forward to re- establish communications with Batallion. The Colonel says we're going to have to take the bunkers ourselves, and your men will be the tip of the saber."
The sergeant nodded. "Tell her we'll be ready. What's the plan?"
Obi-Wan reached for his comlink. "Colonel, this is Major Kenobi. I've reached the Engineers. The platoon sergeant has command now. What are your orders?"
Padme replied moments later. "Glad you made it, Major. If we can approach under cover, we can reach the ridge below the trenches. They will not be able to depress the guns far enough to hit us. In ten minutes, I will order the mortars to fire smoke..."
Obi-Wan listened, then passed word to the sergeant, who in turn contacted his squad leaders. All around him, men readied weapons and explosives for a headlong, possibly suicidal charge.
**
As Alderaan's primary rose into a brilliant orange sky, thousands of tiny black dots appeared over the distant horizon, reaching up thousands of meters to the stratosphere and beyond, slowly, ever so slowly, but inevitably coming closer and closer by the instant.
A rain of turbolaser fire from three Dreadnaughts proceeded them, hundreds of energy bolts raking the Mandalore defenses.
The gunships came behind as the bombardment lifted, almost insectile in appearance, with bulging canopies, fat bodies, and stubby rectangular wings from which were suspended oblong cylinders. They rushed forward, deployed from the large carriers which conveyed them to the surface from space, skimming only meters above the eerily calm ocean at a deceptively frightening speed, spread out in small wedge-shaped formations. The lead formations pulled up when reaching the shore and the pilots throttled back the engines, leaving them hanging almost motionless in the air, nose cannon slowly tracking right and left, the repulsorlifts and ion drives kicking up huge clouds of sand and deafening those foolish enough to be exposed without audio-dampened helmets. In unison, they began unleashing clouds of rockets from under the wings, as their blaster cannon fired incessantly, sweeping along the trenches, searching out anything foolish enough to move which might remotely resemble a threat.
Soon, the entire trenchline was obscured in thick smoke and dust as rockets expended, the gunships roared away and for a moment, all was eerie silence save for a few secondary explosions and roaring fires of burning equipment.
The main assault wave, thousands of shuttles mixed with larger transports and more protective gunships, was now only kilometers away, and the beach came to life as Mandalorian soldiers, hiding deep underground during the bombardment, came forward to man the trenches and bunkers. Several carried shoulder-fired surface to air missiles, rockets from the trenches and hidden batteries behind them, and from a few of the long-ranged emplacements in the city itself streaked out toward the descending armada, blotting transports from the sky in fiery explosions, while others radically evaded, attempting to avoid colliding with other ships nearby, and others limped toward the beach or the ocean, trailing smoke.
Gunships began to break formation and streak forward, firing at flashes, trying to suppress the missile crews as the first few transports began to flare, ready to disgorge their troops. One dissappeared in an explosion, flipped over on its back by a repulsorlift-activated mine, smoke pouring from the repulsor drives and open hatches as screaming, stricken men clambered out onto the beach, rolling around in the sand in agony. But more transports began landing, the clamshell doors in the rear of the ships opening as infantrymen began pouring out, weapons ready, squad support weapons opening up suppressive fire as others joined in with carbines, the troops moving in short rushes, crouched low to the ground, heading for craters, large rock formations, dunes, anything that would provide cover.
Slowly they began to gather, in small and then larger groups, those who could not find their nearby formations heading for whatever position they could see. Transports, once free of their cargo, began to turn about and return to their ships, making room for more to land.
**
Obi-Wan did his best to calm himself. Perhaps it was the Naboo officer's uniform - to a man accustomed to wearing Jedi robes every day of his life, the maroon uniform with its protective armor and major's insignia - made him feel strange, feel almost naked despite the protective gear. As if to symbolize a man out of his element, he wore his decidedly non-regulation lightsaber on one hip, and a standard issue blaster, which he thought a terribly crude, random weapon for a Jedi, on the other.
Beside him, Sabe stopped honing the wicked-looking vibroblade and slipped it into a sheath on her calf-high combat boots the handmaidens wore into battle. Others were going through last-minute checks of weapons and equipment. In usual operations, the headquarters unit did not become involved in close combat, but their shuttle was to land immediately behind the batallion's three infantry companies, weapons company, and engineer platoon. The impression in the Force was mixed fear, adrenaline, anticipation, and anger against the brutal enemy. Many of the soldiers had families killed or displaced in Theed.
He was nervous. Obi-Wan was no stranger to combat, but a full-scale battle was a new experience. Here, the opponent was not often in saber and pistol range, and death could come from a nameless artillery shell fired from dozens of kilometers away. As a Jedi, he was trained in the operations of the Republic's major institutions, including the military. He recalled lectures from the Military Academy's instructors on the history, art, and science of war, and on the Republic's armed forces. He had an excellent memory, and seemed to display an aptitude for the principles of warfare, but his rather scant knowledge was little comfort.
He had done his best to familiarize himself with his duties. As an assistant to Padme's staff, he was not leading men in the field directly, but as an officer responsible in helping the commander make informed decisions, his failure could still result in large numbers of casualties. It was a sobering thought, and he asked the Force for guidance so that he might prove worthy of the task.
**
"Lord Raptor," the General of Artillery said, "our forward units report the enemy troops unloading from their transports in large numbers."
In his position in a public park near the city center, nine batteries, each with four 200-millimeter heavy long-range field guns, waited for orders. The weapons were already loaded, the crews standing at ready. Raptor had pooled all the heaviest field gun units, the ones with sufficient range to reach the beaches from the inner city, from his 3-division corps and placed them under his command as the Corps Chief of Artillery. They were masked from the air by camoflauge nets, trees, and the fires set in the city from huge piles of combustible materials to make it difficult for ships orbiting above to locate his positions.
His guns were registered on the beaches days before in anticipation of an assault landing. The rain of shells, modified concussion missile warheads fitted with fragmenting alloy jackets, would devastate the enemy troops when they were most vulnerable - on the beach, exposed, and without armor or heavy support weapons. If they tried to advance from under the murderous barrage, they would be mowed down by the men in the bunkers and trenches.
Raptor's voice came through the comlink only a moment later, though it seemed much longer.
"Your batteries are released, General."
The officer smiled and switched his comm. Frequency to his battalion commanders. "Continuous fire, all batteries."
The ground shook as the huge artillery pieces fired, reverse-polarity magnetic fields hurtling the heavy shells down dozen-meter barrels, moments later followed by huge rippling booms as the projectiles hurtled through the sound barrier. The heavy untility landspeeders providing massive electric current to the guns recharged as the gunners reloaded the weapons, placing shells in loading trays for rammers to shove them into the weapons' breeches. Fifteen seconds later, the guns fired again with another devastating salvo.
**
The shuttle bucked with increasing turbulence as it entered the denser air at sea level. Despite the armored construction of the platoon-carrying assault shuttle, he could hear huge explosions and sense the chaos below him. It was maddening to be in a transparisteel box without even windows to see the battlefield below. There was another explosion, much nearer this time, followed by a hammering shock wave. One of the transports must have been hit, Obi-Wan thought.
A small green light next to the shuttle's exit ramp in the stern flickered into life. The loadmaster took position near the ramp's operating switch.
"Sixty seconds!" he called out. "Stand in the door!" The men and women rose, unstrapping from their seat harnesses and grabbing the hand rails mounted on the cabin ceiling to steady themselves against the buffeting.
"Everyone find cover as soon as you hit the beach!" Padme yelled.
"Thirty seconds!"
There were several "clicks" of blasters being readied and ruffling sounds as soldiers checked their gear for the last time.
The transport's descent slowed, deceleration pushing them downwards, and the floor tilted up at an angle. The ship held steady, no longer descending, hovering just above the ground below.
There was a loud metallic clank as the ramp release engaged, and then a high-pitched whine of servomotors.
The sound of explosions intensified around him, hammering his eardrums and shaking the vessel. A blast of cold air rushed in through the open cabin.
"Go! Go! Go!" the loadmaster shouted. The first rank of five soldiers moved forward and jumped down to the beach. Obi-Wan's file was next as he leapt from the metal ramp and planted his boots onto the surface of hell.
**
Obi-Wan crouched and stepped through the billowing sand thrown upward by the assault shuttle's repulsors. Blaster bolts impacted the beach all around him, making popping noises and small fountains of sand. He saw a shell crater ahead and rushed forward, diving for cover.
Bright flashes of flame and smoke, accompanied by deep thunderclaps and pounding concussion waves, exploded all along the beach. Padme and the rest of the headquarters unit fell into the crater around him.
He peered over the crater's rim, seeing death and destruction all around. Burning and wrecked assault shuttles, scattered equipment, and bodies covered the beach. Men huddled near whatever cover they could find seeking shelter from the barrage and repeating blaster fire from the bunkers. Many were hit as they scrambled to new positions.
Padme pulled out her comlink.
"This is Alpha Lead, all units report in!"
Obi-Wan listened with dismay as the unit commanders reported their situations. A Company, ahead and on the left flank, had lost its entire first platoon, shot down in their transport. B company in the center reported taking heavy casualties from artillery fire. C Company, on the right, was little better. The engineer platoon had become separated from the formation when their transport had dodged an incoming missile, and were pinned down and unable to rejoin the rest of the battalion. D Company, the mortar unit, reported no casualties and the crews were attempting to set up their weapons behind the hulk of a burning transport.
There was no word from the commander of the Corellian combat engineer company that Corps had attached to their sector.
The batallion's objective loomed far ahead and to the right, a outward- jutting rock formation with relatively shallow slopes covered with armored bunkers. The bunkers protected the flanks of the approach to the easternmost of the three main roads leading to the city. The engineers were to assault the bunkers and the infantrymen to follow and clear a sector of trenches, then hold the flanks of the breach against any counterattacks.
However, unless someone could stop the rain of artillery fire and suppress the bunkers, their task would be impossible.
**
The Corellian Corvette Shadowwraith hovered dozens of kilometers above the battlefield. The ship was a prototype of a unique class of specialized vessel intended for supporting ground assaults. Unfortunately, only two vessels were completed before the Senate cancelled the program. Now, however, she would be put to the test.
"Target acquired," a youthful Gran ensign reported from his sensor station on the vessel's hammerhead bridge. "Enemy heavy artillery park, estimate regimental strength, co-ordinates CZ09341."
The vessel's advanced sensors, though unable to pierce the obscuring clouds of black smoke from the burning city, were nonetheless able to detect the artillery shells being fired from an unknown source, analyze the data, compute their trajectory, and arrive at the point of the projectiles' origin.
"Excellent work, Ensign Ahk," the Rodian female commanding Shadowwraith said. She counted herself lucky the enemy guns were not widely dispersed, as her ship's primary weapon system could fire only one salvo. "It's time we show the credit-pinchers in the Senate what this rustbucket can do, and prevent our troops from getting slaughtered down there. Chief Gunnery Officer Sojaran, open fire."
**
The Shadowwraith's "thorax" section between the bridge and engine bank set her apart from other ships of similar design. The ship was designed as the first of a new class of support weapon, the Shadow class artillery suppression platform. Her center section was lengthened twenty meters and widened by two meters. The modification allowed for a central weapons bay which held eighty downward-pointing heavy concussion missile launch tubes. Her light blue color scheme made of specially absorptive paint and state-of- the-art passive sensors, combined with her high operating altitude and powerful antigravs enabling her to hang motionless above her target, made the vessel both deadly and nearly invisible.
At Sorjoran's orders, the weapons bay doors folded outward and the missile tubes fired in one huge blast, sending lethal projectiles streaking towards the center of Aldera.
**
The General of Artillery smiled beneath his helmet. His batteries were slaughtering the enemy, many caught in the first salvo, while observers stationed in the trenches called in precise targeting data on groups of pinned-down infantry. No naval fire had engaged his guns, and the enemy had no artillery of sufficient range or power to reach his firing positions.
It was going to be a massacre.
His thoughts were interrupted by a howling shriek from above. He threw himself to the bottom of his command pit as the air itself seemed to explode at once, and then grow silent. He stood, taking in the scene around him. The rich grass of the park had vanished, replaced by a field of huge craters. His batteries were in shambles, guns overturned, crews lying dead next to the guns or flung meters away and landing in odd juxtapositions atop burning vehicles and equipment. A group of unexploded shells ignited, the blast wave slamming him to the ground.
The men in the trenches would have to repel the enemy alone.
**
"Blue Squadron, Lead. Status report."
The chorus of responses indicated varying degrees of damage to the Headhunters, though none imminently fatal. The enemy battlecruiser's detonation had sent massive waves of electromagnetic radiation blasting through space, overloading the fighters' rear shields and damaging sensitive equipment such as sensor arrays. The enemy force had retreated, and there was no immediate threat, but all of the fighters were running low on fuel and in need of a hangar berth. If Anakin didn't find a ship soon, they would need to be tractored on board one of the cruisers.
Anakin tuned his comm to the emergency frequency. "This is Blue Squadron of the 146th Starfighter Wing, requesting pickup, over."
**
Haas stared at the man in disbelief.
"One of our snubfighters took out that cruiser, Commander?"
"That's what Vigilant's data stream would indicate, sir. Just before the detonation one of the 146th's fighters launched a torpedo that appeared to penetrate the battlecruiser's hangar shields, and when we slowed down the recording, the ship appeared to explode from her inside-out."
Haas nodded. He couldn't argue with the man's assessment or the evidence, and he had seen some strange things happen in combat, some of which turned the tide of an engagement. "Very well. Find out who those pilots were and tell my chief of staff for Personell to put in some reccommendations. That fighter jock deserves the Hero of the Republic for this, and a Senate Cross for the rest of the squadron. What's the situation with the fleet?"
Non Niem, a Sullistan staff member, began to report. "Admiral sir, we have recieved status reports from all squadron and task force commanders, and are assigning task forces of repair and replinishment ships to the most seriously damaged vessels. Preliminary estimates suggest our combat capability is down to forty percent, possibly sixty percent with another forty-eight hours for repairs."
Haas swore. "They hurt us, and hurt us badly. If they send in another fleet, it'll mean serious trouble. Operations, deploy the least damaged of our cruisers between the transports and the enemy's last exit vector, and get me as many frigates as you can scrape together to cover our cripples. Secondly, we're going to have bad news for Organa. Tell him he's on his own for now, we don't have the ships to spare for ground support."
"Sir," a young communications officer said, "we're getting transmissions from several understrength fighter squadrons whose home vessels have been destroyed. Many are damaged and low on fuel."
Haas turned to face the young Lieutenant. "Have our fighter controllers sort this out, most heavily damaged ships getting first priority."
"Yes, Sir."
Haas turned to the Victory's commander. "What's our own fighter compliment, Captain?"
"We've lost nearly half, Admiral. We can take on several of the half- squadrons, more if we reconfigure our main hangar space."
Haas nodded. "Good. Do it."
"Admiral, we're getting a transmission from one of the Freedom's squadrons."
"So they did make it. Excellent. I want to talk to the squadron leader personally. Give them immediate clearance for pickup."
"Yes, sir."
Haas turned to his Intelligence Chief. "I'm ordering your men to have first priority on any prisoners or material we recover from the enemy ships. I want them to go through any vessels centimeter-by-centimeter and prepare a full report. We haven't seen the last of them, and I'll be damned if our men have to do this again without a better picture of enemy capabilities..."
**
The explosions continued to pummel the beachhead, throwing sand, equipment, and bodies dozens of meters into the air...and then, as suddenly as it had erupted, the succession of impacting rounds fell silent. However, the volume of fire from the entrenched Mandalorians holding the ridgeline failed to diminish in intensity.
Obi-Wan huddled in a shell crater with the rest of the Naboo battallion's headquarters staff.
"We didn't expect this kind of artillery fire, Ma'am," Major Daltra, the unit's intelligence officer, said.
"I know, Major. It looks like heavy field guns, they could be anywhere within several dozen kilometers from here. If the enemy concealed them well enough or moved them before the assault, our intel could have missed them. Fleet may have just taken them out."
"Good they seem to be supporting us for a change. That bombardment barely scratched their defenses."
Padme nodded and switched her comlink channel. "Lieutenant Tinaka, status report." After a moment's silence, she repeated the transmission, and then turned towards her staff officers. "No word from the Corellians. The engineers are ahead and to our left, but I can't raise them on the comm. It looks like we are going to have to take the objective ourselves."
"But that's madness," Daltra said, taking out a map flimsy and unfolding it on the ground below. He pointed to the objective, a narrow outjutting section of ridge covered with several bunkers. "This terrain gives us no cover. We have almost two kilometers of open ground to traverse under fire from their heavy repeaters. We have no weapons heavy enough to suppress their defenses while we advance, no help from the Fleet, and no air support. You're talking about suicide."
Padme cut him off. "I am aware of the difficulties, Major. However, it remains that unless we secure our objective," she said, pointing to the map, "any force trying to secure the main road is going to come under enfilading fire from here, as well as to their front" she explained, indicating the section of ridge. "If we don't take our objective, there is no way we are going to get that road opened. We have an engineer platoon capable of taking down those bunkers, but we need to re-establish contact."
Obi-Wan, who had been silent, spoke up.
"I'll go."
Padme looked at him, surprised. "I need you here, Major Kenobi, and you have a good chance of getting killed if you break cover."
Obi-Wan nodded. "You're right. But I'm the "extra man" on your staff, and I have a functioning comlink. I can go forward and find out what the situation is and report back. And you're forgetting, Ma'am, that I'm a Jedi. I won't be an easy target for those bunker gunners."
"Very well. I may not like it, but we are short on options at the moment."
**
"They're murdering us out here. Let's move inland and get murdered."
-Col. Charles Canham, Omaha Beach, Normandy, June 6, 1944
Obi-Wan shot upward, feet propelled by the impromptu stirrups formed by the cupped hands of two of the enlisted men serving as the headquarter's security detail.
He advanced at a crouch toward a wrecked assault transport perhaps fifty meters ahead and to his right. As he ran, blaster fire kicked up the sand around him, gathering in intensity. He made himself a hard target, taking an erratic course, and staying as low as possible. HE halted a moment later after diving behind the assault transport's shattered, blackened stern, and heard the sound of blaster bolts hitting against the metal hull. Slowly, he made his way down the angled starboard side of the shuttle, still under the hull's cover and protection. He peered around the charred cockpit, careful not to touch the still-hot surface, and spied his destination - a small shell crater about three hundred meters away. A short distance, unless one happened to be crossing an open area covered by hostile repeating blasters. He calmed himself, reaching into the Force to steady his nerves and rapidly- beating heart. His right hand went to his lightsaber, the blaster pistol useless at long range. He took several deep breaths and counted to ten, then broke cover in a dead run.
**
"Jedi!" the Lieutenant shouted, seeing the glow of the lightsaber move along the ground ahead. "Concentrate your fire!"
The gunner traversed his weapon in obedience, lining up the sights. His gun had reaped a rich harvest among the enemy soldiers foolish enough to attempt an advance, and pinning down those huddling in shell craters. Not a single bunker had been damaged by the enemy so far, and it seemed as if he could hold out indefinitely.
He lined up the Jedi in his sights and squeezed off a burst. Sand fountained upwards from the rounds, which fell short, obscuring the man, the glow of the saber was dimly visible, still moving. The gunner swore and fired again, closer this time, yet was amazed when the figure stopped and deflected two of the bolts with his blade.
"Oh, you're going to die, Jedi," the gunner snarled, opening fire again, but his target had dissappeared. He could no longer see the saber glow, only the sprawled shapes of bodies in the maroon Naboo uniforms. He began working the bodies over...perhaps the Jedi was among them, or was using them for cover. However, more fountains of sand from the other weapons rose, obscuring his line of sight once again. The gunner fired several short bursts aimed randomly, hoping to pin the Jedi down, if not kill him.
There! The man broke cover again, running toward a nearby crater at a speed which could not quite be described as possible for a human. He fired off a few short bursts before his target reached cover.
I'll be waiting when you advance, Jedi scum, he said to himself.
**
Obi-Wan slid down into the crater, or rather, jumped and landed hard on his rear after a brief slide down the sandy, sloping walls.
Several engineers, a squad of them, had found shelter there. The men looked, startled to see Obi-Wan's arrival in their impromptu shelter.
"Major, sir," one man said, Obi Wan saw from his shoulder insignia that he was the platoon sergeant.
"Where's your Lieutenant?"
The man gestured towards the far edge of the crater. A man with a corpse- pale face, covered with beaded sweat, huddled, shaking violently, sitting upright and clasping knees to his chest.
"He's not wounded, Major, but he's...well, lost his nerves. He won't listen to anyone, just stares at them. Cracked up," the man went on, "he saw half a squad torn to pieces by a single shell, Sir, and his comlink stopped a blaster bolt that knocked him flat." The man's tone carried a hint of sympathy for his young platoon leader - "I've seen combat before, and let me tell you, it ain't pretty. This is the worst I've ever seen, and I've seen good men in training come apart in combat a lot less severe than this."
Obi-Wan nodded. "So the platoon is yours, now. I've come forward to re- establish communications with Batallion. The Colonel says we're going to have to take the bunkers ourselves, and your men will be the tip of the saber."
The sergeant nodded. "Tell her we'll be ready. What's the plan?"
Obi-Wan reached for his comlink. "Colonel, this is Major Kenobi. I've reached the Engineers. The platoon sergeant has command now. What are your orders?"
Padme replied moments later. "Glad you made it, Major. If we can approach under cover, we can reach the ridge below the trenches. They will not be able to depress the guns far enough to hit us. In ten minutes, I will order the mortars to fire smoke..."
Obi-Wan listened, then passed word to the sergeant, who in turn contacted his squad leaders. All around him, men readied weapons and explosives for a headlong, possibly suicidal charge.
**
