Chapter Eight

The Battle of Csilla, Part 2

Grey felt her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Its quickening tempo transformed into a hum, drowning out all outside noise. She hoped to the stars no one could see her shaking, but she was sure they would if they looked.

When was the last time she'd been so scared in battle? The corporal couldn't remember. Those terrorist Twi'leks on Ryloth had pulled some nasty tricks while she was stationed on their planet, but at least they could only fight while alive. At least they couldn't turn her comrades against her with a single touch. At least they needed air to breathe.

"What do we do?! We can't light them up like this!" Gordon wasn't handling the situation any better than Grey. "It would destroy everything."

Even as he shouted, more corpses were crawling out of the pit. Dozens upon dozens emerged from every side, forcing fuel collectors to retreat and the protective ring to break. Their forces would be driven into a retreat if they didn't come up with a plan.

Grey did the only thing that would come to her mind in the midst of all the terror. She commed her commander. "Lieutenant, we have a problem."

"I'm aware of it, Corporal. The Vice Admiral is working on a new strategy as we speak."

"What should we do until he has one?" Grey jumped back from the swing of a lone foe, Gordon squeaking in fear behind her. He fired a few blaster shots at the corpse's head, but that only seemed to annoy it. None of the shots hit. "We can't fight back without compromising our objective."

"I know, I know," Kalvnik replied through his teeth. "Hold your position best you can. Protect living beings over resources. I will give further orders when I know what they are.

"And Grey?"

"Yes, Kalvnik?"

"Keep our squad safe. We've been through worse. I'm not losing men to this frozen cesspool of a rock."


"Come on, Cana- Vice Admiral. Our troops are in disarray out there. The Grand Admiral is herding her collectors back to their ships. We have to deal with this on our own."

"I see that, Lieutenant." Of all the ways Canady had predicted this mission might go sideways, enemy soldiers crawling their way out of an oil field hadn't been on the list. In his defense, he was used to enemies that needed to breathe in order to continue fighting. Enemies that would have died from their dive into a fuel pit. Forgive him for his lack of foresight when it came to armies of undead legions.

"What will your men do, Vice Admiral? Our fuel collectors aren't equipped to handle this challenge! If we evacuate, we won't have gained anything from this battle." A trooper pilot called in from one of the grand admiral's ships. "If the enemy attacks now, we will lose men."

"'Covered in fuel, we cannot throw flame. The resulting fire will not be put out so simply.'" Such was the translated reply of Ari'nitan'colgrana, who had been on the comm channel this whole time. "'We must lure the enemy away from your rigworkers.'"

Kalvnik paled. Even in the holo-projection, it was obvious he'd found himself at a loss.

For a second, Canady felt the same way. Then he recovered his senses. "If we can get runners from the perimeter to distract them, they might be able to get far enough away to not endanger anyone else. If the runners themselves stay far enough away, a TIE could shoot the enemy down. The oil on the enemy will catch flame. That should stop the foe."

"But Vice Admiral. That assumes a lot, don't you think?" A member of the makeshift bridge crew piped up. "How do we know the enemy will be lured away?"

"'Mnggal-Mnggal does not interest itself in fuel. It wants to feed. Mnggal-Mnggal only took the rig because Chiss kept going to the area in desire of it. Often we have seen it chase after prey.'"

"So it could work…." Kalvnik trailed off, though his face suggested he had more to say. "That still leaves a lot of fires burning. We can't just let an oil fire continue to burn on a frozen plain somewhere. It could turn back on the rig."

"That is where our runner comes back into play. Once the TIE has made their shot, the runner checks to ensure the foe is finished before cutting off oxygen to the fire." Canady left out the fact that this plan assumed the runner was not burned by the fire itself in this maneuver. His previous plan had been tailored to avoid casualties, and he didn't like the fact that he could potentially lose forces when the number of human lives were already so few. Reserves were far from guaranteed out here.

Something about his face must have betrayed that fact. Before Canady could refocus his attention, Kalvnik replied with: "these runners will have a dangerous job. Our protective ring will be broken."

Canady looked at the live footage from the battle. "It's already useless. The original strategy was designed to keep the enemy out of the well. Reality starts with the enemy inside."

"True. I will inform our ground troops of their new orders."

"And I will speak with the TIEs. The grand admiral may resume her task soon." Canady turned away, the knot in his stomach returning from before. Complications during battle weren't new, but rarely were they handled with ease.

As for the fighters, the pilots were professional enough not to react when they were told they may well end up shooting their own troops in an effort to exterminate the enemy. Despite the cold detachment with which they replied, Canady could still sense trepidation behind their affirmations. They realized as well as he did what this battle could cost him.

Out here, the only replacement for dead soldiers were the remnants of an unfamiliar alien race. The chances of Canady accepting them into the fold would depend on their performance today.

Or the Empire's lack of one.


Not that anyone had asked him, but Nick Dunn thought this new plan was ridiculous.

It wasn't as though he needed motivation to run away from an undead army of aliens. No, that had been the first thing he considered among watching them emerge from their pit. Rather, it was the knowledge that his pursuer would be shot at by a TIE fighter once the two of them were a safe distance away from the rig. The plan assumed he would (and could) run close enough to his foe to keep the target pursuing him, but far enough away that he wouldn't be caught in the fuel explosion that followed. But then, he had to again get close enough to the fire to completely cut off its source of oxygen using… snow, he guessed. Seriously, what else was out here?

The way Dunn saw it, he would have equal success shooting his target with a flamethrower and accepting the burn risk as he would predicting the incoming shot of a TIE fighter without looking. Except he'd handed his flamethrower over to Gordon when he'd taken it upon himself to run from the enemy. If Gordon stumbled in his attempt, it would be the kid's last line of defense.

The cold air stung his lungs as he heaved it in. Steam burned his ears from behind as the screeching laser of a TIE touched down. Dunn saw the light of the explosion reflected on snow before he turned his head himself.

His armor protected him from most of the heat. It wasn't specialized for the task, but it was better than whatever his foe had been wearing. Dunn watched with morbid fascination as the corpse fell apart in its pyre, plied on by oil its body had collected in its dive.

Behind it stood another drenched and blackening body, caught on fire from the front. The flames spread fast and burned bright, but they didn't travel far from the cooking flesh. Smoke fought with steam as the air swirled with a pulsing heat. Water condensed over his visor, scrubbing clarity from his sight.

His helmet might have filtered the air he breathed, but it didn't do anything to cool it. His lungs now seethed for an entirely different reason than they had a second ago.

All around Dunn burned the blurry fires of doomsday. The heat and intensity melted the ground around it as more and more of the plains were exposed. Nothing but dirt and gravel hid beneath the white mantle.

Just as Dunn was panting and marveling at the scene before him, he heard a tearing scream off to his right. There ran Kevin Gordon, the kid barely old enough to have graduated the academy when his first assignment on Ryloth fell apart. Behind him were three pursuers in hulking, nightmarish stride.

He was too close. Gordon was going to be too close to avoid the inevitable shot when it-

"Kevin!" Dunn could only watch as the same TIE who'd assisted him shot into the group of four. Gordon had done his best to jump out of the way, to no avail. Bits of oil and disease landed on his armor as the fire burned its way under the plastoid plates. Bits of his skin were exposed and red at the fingertips.

"Nick! Help me," Gordon tried to stand, wincing as he did. He was on fire. His legs, his fingers… the liquid slid down his chest plate and fell onto the uncovered areas, making a hissing noise as it did.

Dunn glanced around to check for enemies. He saw the Chiss navigator who'd accompanied them to the well, but no foes. He raced over to help his injured comrade, pulling him away from the other fires.

"Calm down. We'll put this fire out. You're going to be okay." Dunn threw snow over the burning areas before remembering the oil part of the problem. Removing pieces of Gordon's armor, he submerged the kid's burning leg in a drift, covering the area to the best of his ability. Soon the fire was dying down, leaving puckered burns and scrapes in its wake.

When Dunn lifted the chest plate back up, he noticed bits of black were surrounding the burnt leg. That was odd. He didn't think Gordon would have sustained third degree burns from that minor of an encounter. His body suit had taken the worst of it.

"Dunn, my leg. It feels… weird."

"Of course it feels strange. You just burned it. Does it hurt, or are you numb?"

"It hurts, yeah, but… I'm not numb down there. It feels kinda itchy."

Itchy? That wasn't a burn symptom Dunn was familiar with. He would have to get Gordon checked out by a medic once they were back on the ship. "Keep the area cold. Hold onto this flamethrower and defend yourself with the hand you didn't burn."

"I will. I promise. You'll come back for me, right?"

"Of course," Dunn assured the man. He took one last look at Gordon's injured leg. Was it just him, or did the skin look blacker than it had a second ago? Gordon said he still had feeling in the leg, so the burn couldn't have been that extensive. Perhaps that was best left up to a medic to decide, however. Dunn was about to take his leave when he saw the Chiss approach them once more. Yet another fire was burning behind the alien's silhouette, highlighting the less human aspects of his features.

There was no translator droid with them now. Dunn had no hope of understanding when the Chiss spit angry syllables at him and Gordon. Was he telling them to get up? Get further away from the burning corpses?

"I don't know what you want." Dunn tried to shove the blue man away, to no avail. The Chiss took one look at Gordon's leg, and his red eyes flared. He took a few steps back, then lunged for Gordon's weapon.

Was that what this was about? Did the Chiss need a weapon to defend himself and didn't think an injured man needed it as badly? Was he planning to take up Gordon's defense?

"Do you need me to show you how to use that? I can teach you the best way to- woah, watch it." Dunn leapt out of the way as the Chiss male turned the device on. The alien uttered one more incomprehensible phrase before pointing the flamethrower at Gordon.

"What is he doing? I'm not that badly injured! I don't need to be p-"

Fire escaped the nozzle. Hungry orange beasts raced to reunite with Gordon's flesh. Once again, Gordon screamed.

Dunn tried to push the Chiss away. He threw all his weight into the navigator's side, knocking them both over into a heap of burnt ash. Had Dunn been paying attention in that moment, he would have realized the danger of falling so close to a still raging fire just over their left shoulder.

But Dunn wasn't paying attention. In his mind, all he could hear were Gordon's pleading screams. The Chiss spat at him, but Dunn's eyes were locked on the boy he'd once served with, watching as the fire caught onto different bits of Gordon's body suit.

Dunn rushed to put the fire out again, but the Chiss stopped him. The alien's speech took on a pleading tone as he held Dunn back.

Gordon was dying. Dunn made the choice, then and there, to shoot the young trooper in the heart. Better to end his misery than continue such twisted suffering.

Dunn still couldn't understand the Chiss's words. What could he have to say for himself? Yes, death was always a risk in battle, but why like this? In the current set of circumstances, what benefit could sacrificing Gordon serve?

A weak breeze drifted along the battlefield, mixing its disparate scents together. Cooking meat, burning oil, the twinging wetness of evaporated snow. Buried within was the sweet decay of a fearsome disease, one that could make any body its prisoner.

The gory details, Dunn remembered. The preemptive strike, Dunn understood. The proactive Chiss, Dunn did not forgive.

Still, the battle seemed to rage calmer from that point on. In the distance, Dunn could even see the grand admiral's ships lowering again. Pray to the stars their foe had no third wave waiting in the wings.

From that point on, Dunn set to work quenching the fires' thirst. It wasn't an easy task. Some fires had managed to spread quite far. The boiling of the area had put up clouds of fog, adding an air of mystery to the once clear day. Most bonfires had reduced their sources to unrecognizable ashes and bone, but he was able to uncover Imperial armor here and there. Not every remaining Chiss limb looked partially decomposed, either. But no matter what the state of the corpse had been before its burning, each and every one had been met with the same fate.

Incomplete cremation.


"Was it worth it, Grand Admiral? Did those lives we sacrificed in this foreign war get us the fuel we deserved?"

"This war is foreign to us no longer, Captain. If we are to stay in the Unknown Regions, we are destined to make this conflict our own. If we want to bring order and peace to this side of the galaxy, we are going to have to fight any enemy that stands in that mission's way. Even peculiar diseases." Sloane addressed the second question first, then doubled back. "In terms of our short term objective, yes. My forces succeeded in collecting the necessary fuel for our mission. Because the Chiss have not gone through hyperspace in so long, our new allies have even promised us their reserves of that as well… once a certain situation is remedied."

Canady had not been there for the discussion, but he was confident he knew the incident to which Sloane was referring. "You want us to help our new allies overthrow their government? Have our troops not fought enough skirmishes on this planet for today?"

"I assure you, Vice Admiral, there will be no fight. The Chiss people respect honor, but more importantly, they respect might. With our victory today, we have proven to Csilla that the Empire has more power than their crumbling Aristocra. Through our comrades in battle today, we shall renew their fight for their homes. In return, they shall be in our debt. I have been promised not only fuel, but navigators and translators. Hard workers who will learn our language and assimilate to our ways."

"And you intend to accept them? As equals?"

"They fought as our equals in the battle just now. Did they not, Lieutenant?"

Kalvnik turned his head towards the grand admiral. His helmet hid his face from view, though his voice certainly carried a strained quality. "Yes. Their assistance was vital. I would be willing to fight alongside them again once our communication barrier is resolved."

There were still a few grumbles on the bridge, but the military success of the day kept them quiet for now. Those who opposed Sloane's leadership would wait for her to fail before they dared stir up disorder once more.

Their loss, really. Sloane was about to double her subject population aboard the Eclipse. This time tomorrow, her new Empire would have the complete cooperation of their first planet.


A/N's: And so we reach a conclusion to my first ever battle scene. Hope it didn't completely suck, even if it was a bit smaller than most SW battles.

You know who writes really good space battles? Timothy Zahn. I read Thrawn: Treason last week, and let me tell you. That was the most entertaining side quest I have ever been on in an expanded universe. I thought it was going to have details that rendered my fic impossible, but all I have to do is handwave a few Chiss name abbreviations, and I stay canon compliant.

As I mentioned before, this arc ends next chapter. I will try to get that out before I enter my first year of college in a few weeks, but in case I take another two months to update, I'll leave you readers something to consider. My choices for the second arc in this story are as follows. I will let readers help me make this decision, and announce which one I am going with when the next chapter is posted. I will eventually write both arcs regardless of which one is voted to go first. Readers, your choices are:

1) Brendol, Armitage, and their kid troopers get into hijinks while aboard the Eclipse

2) A Chiss/Imperial team travel to another planet to meet Snoke and investigate the origins of Mnggal-Mnggal

Let me know what you think in a review, thanks for reading, and I'll see you on the far side!