Lotus Wars: The Bloom of War

by General Quin

After the defeat of Drakken and the Diablos, it turns out Eric is real. With Kim confused, Ron forges his own path that sets him on journey he himself wasn't prepared for. Will Ron weather the dangers of the Clone Wars? Can Kim save him from the treacherous Separatists? Or will she face too many threats on her own path...

10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

I.

The leg of a discarded B-1 battle droid clanged to the cold granite floor. It was one of many that Professor Dementor had sifted through in the scrap heap that day. He sat in front of a thin neon blue holoscreen, working on the schematics of upgraded battle droids. For weeks he had gone through hours of footage watching battles between the Droid Army of the Confederacy and the clones of the Galactic Republic.

To say the recordings were dismal was still understating a major problem within the Droid Army. The overall records were even more discouraging. By Dementor's own estimates, the Droid Army needed to field a fifty-to-one advantage to guarantee a tactical victory on the battlefield. That ratio fluctuated based on the terrain and type of warfare, but nowhere in any records did the Droid Army come close to the quality of the Grand Army of the Republic and their marksmen clones.

The only time the Droid Army came close was when they used expensive units such as BX-commandos, droideka's, and magna-guards. But even then, the ratio was still abysmal especially when a Jedi or two was thrown into the equation.

Dementor slammed his head into the table, the holoscreen flickered. The ratio doubled and sometimes tripled if Jedi, the mystical wizards were involved on the field. The droids, especially the basic infantry B-1's stood no chance. Dementor knew that hordes of soldiers, especially hordes that relied on droves of droids were a great tactic. However, economically they weren't feasible if they didn't achieve significant results without significant losses.

The mission General Beta had assigned to him was no simple task. His job was to make a better, more feasible droid army. One where battle droids could compete with clone troopers head to head, toe to toe. He wanted an army where he had numerical superiority, but where he didn't have to anchor so many forces just to capture one planet. He wanted the quality as well.

There was a catch, however. Beta had given Dementor conditions, more accurately five points. The first was probably the most antagonizing to Dementor. He was not allowed to change the physical appearance of any model of battle droid. That included the B-1 battle droids. He wasn't allowed to differ the change for many reasons, but the most peculiar to Dementor was Beta's desire to have his new droids be able to blend in with the rest of the Droid Army.

The second stipulation Beta had set wasn't difficult in achieving save one condition. Dementor was to make the droid's armor stronger, yet the overall unit had to be cheaper by more than thirty percent. Beta must have thought Dementor to be a miracle performer or wizard. Although he was not, he was nonetheless up to the challenge and found a solution.

Beta had given him many metals and alloys to work with. Most were expensive and rare like phrik, beskar, cortosis, and more. He had already broken down the elements in the alloy B-1's were made of. Not to his surprise, they were constructed of weaker alloys, he even suspected sabotage had already been conducted based on the schematics. Armor for Dementor was a cake-walk. He could do it in his sleep. And he eventually overcame the costs of such an alloy by making his own.

The third through fifth stipulations were not as easy and took more time to solve. Beta wanted the droids at the same level of intellect as a clone trooper. He didn't mean in terms of calculations and probability, he wanted the droids to be as clever and creative if not more so than an organic being. This was challenging and dangerous to Dementor as he thought Beta was straddling a dangerous line between restricted and open artificial intelligence. It was especially true when the fourth and fifth points were to ensure that the droids were to remain loyal to Beta and above all wouldn't formulate thoughts of rebellion.

Ten weeks later Dementor had cracked the code and on the eve of Grievous's new offensive. He turned abruptly at the whooshing door behind him as bright light spilled in from the main hall. Two shadowy figures stood in the doorway. Dementor already knew who they were. They were his overseers.

"Is your work finished," A dull, low voice that was almost to low for Dementor to hear.

Dementor rolled his eyes swiveling back around in his chair. He reached for his fusion cutter and a piece of armor. "The first phase is completed, yes. Your B-1 battle droids have been upgraded to The B-1D model. And before you even ask, I have completed all the programming updates to the new units. They aren't just hollow shells anymore."

"If they are ready, then why are you still surrounded by a scrap heap," A more feminine voice asked, both seemed void of emotion. This was becoming the regular treatment Dementor was used to. Beta and his acolytes didn't speak to him with a tinge of emotion, save frustration.

"Do you really think that I've been doing nothing this whole time?" Dementor rolled his eyes as he continued to work on the next project. "Nevermind vhat The mad scientist and his warnings about making something of this intelligence."

"Did you manage?" Not a touch of doubt in the Beta's voice.

"You never listen…" Dementor groaned in frustration. He snapped his arm out to flip a yellow switch. In front of him, a wide window pane of transpirasteel that stretched from wall to wall lit up from light on the other side. On the other side lay a massive room where a formation of B-1 battle droids sat coddled up in a fetal position.

"What modifications did you make?" Beta's partner was the fifth, yet most recurring acolyte Dementor had met. Her name was Svana Naltos. She was a fair, young woman that was no older than her early twenties. Her shoulder-length golden hair was almost unreal to Dementor, it's sheen almost blinding. She was just a smidge shorter than Beta. Her eyes were a teal color and the rest of her features were in perfect proportion. Her nose, ears in perfect harmony. She was a true jewel as far as Dementor could tell.

Her stature was harder to tell, as she wore a navy-blue uniform with a very familiar lighter blue beret. She was athletic as Dementor could tell from how she carried herself, her posture was like Beta's, commanding yet soft. Yet the uniform itself wasn't as tight of a fit, baggy almost. She bore no armor like her superior. The uniform sported the Confederacy's blue and white hexagonal roundel on both shoulders. The light blue beret also sported the Confederacy's roundel as a pin within a golden reef, one that was all too familiar to Dementor.

Her rank was that of colonel-general in the Droid Army, being just below that of Beta. She was also not heavily armed like Beta was. Where Beta wore Mandalorian armor and all the weapons that came with it, she only sported a blaster pistol that was holstered to her right hip. Attached beside the holster was a longer, closed slim pouch that Dementor had no idea what it held.

"Am I going to have to ask twice? What modifications did you make? How about you start with the armor?" Svana asked, again void of emotion.

Dementor dropped the fusion cutter. He let out a sigh, even his frustration had to drag itself from his breath. "The armor has been improved. I created a synthetic element that is almost as strong as durasteel-"

"Wouldn't a synthetic armor cost more to any production run?" Svana stepped up to the window pane viewing the silverish metallic battle droids on the other side. "We would have to convince thousands of systems to start changing the process-"

"Oh yes! So many credits and the problems of interfering in the industrial process, tragic," Dementor cut off Svana, sarcasm drooling over her own words. He could tell she wasn't amused. "Yes, so the industrial process vill have to be changed. And it vill cost more to change droid foundries that are already active, but the benefits outweigh the costs."

"Did you not listen to any of the stipulations the general gave you?" Frustration started to slip from her mouth.

"Calm yourself Naltos. He's getting to it," Beta stepped between the two, putting his arm gently in front of his acolyte. "Continue Professor."

"I vill admit, it vill cost you more in the beginning. But, in the long run, your foundries vill be able to produce more battle droids at a reduced cost of twenty percent. You are in this war for the long run, aren't you?" Dementor posed the question back at the two.

"I knew you could do it, professor. Your ingenuity continues to impress me. So how effective is the armor?" Beta asked setting his gaze upon the droids.

"The armor is more effective, but only by about fifteen percent. You see, B-1 battle droids are still B-1 battle droids. They are skeletal, not robust. However, I offset that vith the other improvements I made," Dementor stood from his chair wringing his hands together. Both of his overlords nodded for him to continue.

"I still think you are crazy for wanting to make the battle droids smarter, but I came up vith a solution and I can tell you is quite effective. I increased the size of their logic modules and processors. I also lifted the restrictions on their combat modules," Dementor explained, the excitement drooling from his lips. He was getting into one of his rants again.

"Patience, professor. What prevents the droids from rebelling against us?" Beta asked.

Dementor took in a deep breath and sighed. He had learned if one thing agitated Beta, it was his monologuing. "I input a simple set of restrictions, a moral compass you could say. Along vith these restrictions, I also put in a set of executive orders and directives. An example vould be if a battle droid decides to go rogue or switch sides. Since the directives in its logic modules will conflict, it will automatically initiate a shutdown."

"Can the enemy take advantage of this in any way?" Svana posed the question.

"Aw yes. The Republic and the Jedi. Uh no. The droids only listen to logic from recognized superior officers… that you vould provide of course," Dementor explained.

"Let me make myself clearer. Can our enemies make use of your safety features and shut down our armies?" Svana asked again.

Dementor looked away from her frustrated. "No. Only the person that is recognized at the top of command can issue a shutdown order of that magnitude. In fact, for any unit larger than a company, a shutdown order can only come from you, sir," Dementor nodded back to Beta.

"And what of their capabilities?" Beta asked, hesitance in his voice.

"You can see for yourself vhen you test them, general. They vill perform their duties the letter," a crude grin crawled over Dementor's face. A sense of satisfaction washed over him, one that he hadn't felt in a long time. "Their targeting processors have been overhauled, and their tactical modules have been amped vith creative processors. Even an individual battle droid vill understand, sentiently I might add, that there is a bigger overall picture."

"So they can take on clones and greater threats?" Svana asked.

"Yes. However, in order for them to be at their most effective, I have reduced the overload on their processing modules. So vhat you have in front of you are purely infantry battle droids. They can adapt to learn vehicles such as tanks and repulsor craft if necessary. However, they should not be in charge of operating capital ships, command centers, communications, and so on. I suggest you make dedicated droids to those functions as to not overload their functions," Dementor expressed vehemently. "This is one of the major issues I noticed vith the droid army itself. Almost no specialized roles."

"It is a war. Sometimes we have to make use of what we have Professor. What if we lose droids in charge of maintenance? Or droids in charge of maintaining the command center on the ground?" Svana posited.

"I suggest you come up with a system that negates those problems General Naltos. I've designed these battle droids for The specific purpose of infantry and security purposes. Any other functions will be secondary and be wiped every ten cycles," Dementor explained. His battle droids design was a great leap over the standard battle droids, and mostly due to programming. Scientists in the Confederacy were wary of granting this kind of independence to a battle droids and Dementor could see why. However, he was suspicious there was something else holding them back.

"I suppose we can do that, but will you be able to predetermine programming for droids without having to build separate factories for each droid you want to do a different job?" Svana raised a brow skeptical of this herself.

"Yes," Dementor answered bluntly. He was curious though about why droids weren't programmed for direct roles. He understood why scientists would be hesitant to make more intelligent AI, but why clog and overwhelm a program. "Can you explain to me why the battle droids were programmed so poorly?" Dementor asked.

Svana smirked seemingly amused by his question. She turned to Beta who was still analyzing the droids in the other room. She turned back to Dementor, "You can thank our corporate benefactors for that." That was all she said before turning away. So that was the reason Beta stressed cheapness. Corporate hands were involved. This intrigued Dementor to the core. He knew where Beta was from. Working with corporate sponsors must have irked Beta's very being.

"What do you think? Should we be satisfied with the new model?" Svana turned to Beta reaching out her hand to the deactivated battle droids on the other side of the transparisteel.

"Activate the droids, professor. I want to see them operate," General Beta crossed his arms, his voice lowering to an ominous pitch.

Dementor wasn't phased as he moved his finger to the switch. "As you wish, my Lord." He flipped the switch, the battle droids on the other side twitched and came to life. Their arms unfurled as they stood upright. Unlike regular battle droid units, they did not reach out for their E-5 blaster rifles. Instead, they did something familiar to Beta, they assembled into a formation. The commanding battle droid and two subordinate officers stood at the front of it.

"Why isn't there a predesignated commander?" Beta questioned as he found that not one droid had any markings.

"There is. They just designated one and others just now. I programmed them to do this, from now on that unit will be their captain and they have designated subordinate leaders all the way to private," Dementor explained smirking at his success. "Next they will designate who will carry what weapons and such and their roles in battle."

"Weapons? Roles? They carry standard E-5 blaster rifles. What are you talking about?" Svana asked bewildered at what Dementor meant.

"I mean exactly vhat I say. This company of battle droids is choosing their own command structure and who vill man vhat weapons systems," Dementor crossed his arms proudly.

"So how far up the ladder do these droids choose their own command?" Beta asked watching the battle droids curiously.

Dementor was finally seeing the uneasy side of Beta and messing with AI, or that's what Dementor thought. "It only happens here at the company level and below. At The battalion level and higher, I am working on a new command series of battle droids that will be predesignated to lead."

"So now battle droids will need to be made in batches of companies, so they can properly form their units accordingly. Interesting indeed," Dementor watched as a smile crept across Svana's face. So now Dementor was making an impression on them.

"How did they choose their leadership?" Beta asked dryly.

Dementor rolled his eyes. So maybe Svana was the only one impressed so far. However, that wasn't the only surprise Dementor had for them. "They decided based on one million battle simulations conducted within a central computer within about twelve seconds. Once those simulations are processed, the units are trained sufficiently to know who is best in command within their respective roles."

"So… they switch roles that many times?" Svana asked perplexed.

"Yes, thanks to a new supercomputer I built. And now that they know their command structure and roles. Now they can either be trained by an organic officer or resubmitted into programming and undergo months or years of training within mere minutes. They can learn," Dementor smirked.

"I see. I'm impressed, professor. Have you already prepared a production line within the base?" Beta asked turning to Dementor now. He had clasped his hands behind and now stood in front of him. For the first time, Beta was intimidating.

"I have and can start a limited production run. I already met with the Geonosians, they are ready to build three new factories in the eastern Shyzu desert," Dementor answered.

"Excellent. See to it that the Geonosian's begin construction of the foundries at record pace. And start the production facility here at once. I want a vanguard of these units produced and ready for service. See to it that you start working on the other units of the Droid Army." Beta turned and began walking away back to the door from which he had come, Svana following suit.

"Wait!" Dementor shouted at the two before they could exit. He quickly turned back to the control panel and flipped two more switches. Silence fell over the room as he turned to face Beta and a perplexed Svana. He sighed in relief that they had not ignored his call. He wiped the sweat from his brow. "I remember that you had me design special BX-Commando droids, made from Beskar and Phrik alloys. Five to be precise, so that OM-1 and its team could be uploaded into new, more flexible, durable bodies."

"Yes. I have already spoken with OM-1 and they are very impressed with their new bodies. I see that on the B-1 series in the other room, you took inspiration from the bodies you worked on and made them stealthier. You have already impressed me, professor, there is no need-"

"I wasn't finished, general. Although I made husks for your guards. I made five more husks and used the general schematics and processors for OM-1 and his team. Regrettably, you wouldn't let me use any of their personality matrix's, I more than compensated for it with sheer processing and AI modules," five pairs of familiar white sensors came on in a dark corner of the room. "Behold general, a new special task force. S-1 units at your disposal."

"We are not disposable as you have prepositioned to the general professor," A deep vocabulator echoed in the room. Dementor opened his eyes in shock turning around to find the dark-silvery BX-commando droids looming behind him. He slowly turned back toward his overlords. He could feel the intense stare of disapproval from them.

Dementor chuckled nervously rubbing the back of his neck. "Did it get hot in here or is it just me?" His whole body started to feel hot. It would seem he might have forgotten to install their AI inhibitors.

Beta ignored him and turned to the new BX-commando droids that Dementor had built in secret. The leading BX unit, marked in white to designate its role as the captain spoke. "I am Unit S-1. However, the professor for unknown reasons to myself gave me and my units the call sign of Sokol. So I will ask you to call me Sokol-1."

"Interesting, professor. Do these units have your restrictions in their programming?" Svana crossed her arms obviously not pleased.

Before Dementor could answer, Sokol One answered in his place. "The professor did put the same restrictions and moral coding into our programming. However, unlike the B-1 models he activated before us, we have enhanced programming and hardware."

Beta crossed his arms. "And exactly what did the professor do to enhance you?"

"The professor installed special targeting programming. We can acquire targets at extreme ranges. Our sensors can also see four different spectrums. Unlike our companions, we have extreme data capacitors. We can and are programmed to perform any function necessary within the Droid Army and more. We have no limits as the professor added vast amounts of memory throughout our bodies. More accurately he added a spatial memory node."

"I'm sure there is much more that will be in a classified, detailed report from the professor himself then?" Beta asked turning to Dementor.

"Of course, my Lord," Dementor could feel the sweat dripping out of his pores like bullets.

"Yes, there is much more, sir. If I were to describe myself bluntly, Professor Dementor created us to be like or on par with your escort detail, Units OM One through Five. To ensure this level of expertise and capability, the professor has had us running simulative battles since our completion four weeks ago. We've held over one-hundred billion mission simulations with varying conditions and time frames." When Sokol One finished he looked back at the professor and around the rest of the room. He seemed curious.

He turned back to Beta, "What are your orders, sir?"

Beta nodded his head, his arms still tightly crossed. Svana was still glowering at Dementor. Dementor had no idea what they thought of them, but Beta's answer surprised him. "I think I have just the place for you," Dementor couldn't see it, but he could hear the smirk emanating from behind his helmet.

II.

General Grievous stood on the bridge of his infamous Confederate flagship, the Invisible Hand. It maintained its orbit around the CIS naval base on Yag'Dhul with half of the First Fleet surrounding it. His cold, gold eyes stared into space. Soon the Confederacy would launch the largest offensive of the war. It would be an all-out drive into the heart of the Republic.

The only prevention from him giving the order was Count Dooku. He waited, watching as Confederate ships continued to pour out of hyperspace. This would be his crowning moment in the war. His name would be etched into the brains of all loyalist Republic dogs in the core worlds and the Jedi would be made out as a farce, incapable of protecting the galaxy from his onslaught.

Grievous turned to a hologram of the galaxy displaying the regions under Confederate control. His objective was clear. He was to expand the territory of the Confederacy into the Core worlds of the Southern Slice, while his subordinate General Beta created a distraction in the northern quadrant by launching massive assaults in the New Territories. With this offensive, Grievous could connect the Confederacy's few core worlds like the Nemoidian purse worlds to the rest of the Confederacy, all while isolating the Republic's last bastions in the Outer Rim such as Eridau.

"General?" Captain Dofine alerted Grievous. Grievous turned to his trusted Nemoidian Captain, one of the few Nemoidians he tolerated.

"What is it?" Grievous asked still keeping his attention on the galaxy at large. He needed to overlook the first worlds he would attack on the Corellian Run and go over battle strategy.

"We have an incoming transmission from Count Dooku," Captain Dofine replied hastily. "He requests that we respond immediately."

Grievous sighed looking up at the captain. He was relieved the Count had finally contacted him. Watching his fleet grow outside wouldn't escape the notice of prying eyes for long. "Patch him through." Captain Dofine accepted the transmission and the galaxy was replaced by the elderly Sith Lord, Count Dooku.

"Greetings General. I trust that preparations for your offensive are nearly complete and on schedule?" the Count asked Grievous.

"The First Fleet will be ready to begin the offensive within the next three Raxan cycles," Grievous replied. "All system armies and subordinate fleets are making final preparations for the offensive. The Republic will never see it coming.

"And what of our subordinates that are in control of the fleets outside of the main offensive? Are they prepared to act?" Count Dooku asked.

"I've put Admiral Vulpus in charge of the Third Fleet," General Grievous replied. "He knows his targets and will also protect our flank from any Republic fleets in the Mid-Rim. As for most other commanders, they are to maintain a defensive position unless you give the word, my Lord."

"Excellent, general. As usual, you mark me impressed by your ability to organize the vastness of the droid armies," Count Dooku praised. "As we both know, General Beta plays a vital role in this offensive. Has he made contact with you?"

"General Beta has already briefed me. His offensive will be coordinated with mine. He already has his target laid out before him. I have high confidence that he will succeed in his role as a distraction." Beta was highly respected in the Confederate Droid Army. Dooku and Grievous had nominated him to be second in command. The Confederate Council hadn't been so sure and so delayed Beta's promotion.

"This operation cannot fail. My master is growing weary of the Jedi's success in keeping the trust with the Republic and its citizens. He demands an end to this trust between the Jedi and the public and the only way of doing so is to prove that the Jedi are ineffective in protecting the Republic," Count Dooku smirked at the cyborg general. "Commence the operation at will, General. Ensure that the Jedi are never again a trusted foundation for the galaxy." Dooku terminated the transmission and disappeared. The image of the galaxy reappeared in front of Grievous's cold stare.

Grievous stared aimlessly at the galaxy before him. His time was at hand. He had already killed dozens of Jedi and now it was his job to break the Jedi Order's back. Without the faith of the galaxy in the Jedi, the Jedi Order was doomed to burn to ashes. Whatever rose from those ashes, Grievous didn't care as long as he was the instrument in bringing their destruction.

"Prepare the fleet for the jump to hyperspace. I want all formations ready for battle! Set our coordinates for the Renillis System," Grievous ordered turning back to face the viewport. "It's time to put the Jedi on the defensive. It's time to chase them core-ward."

III.

General Beta watched over the Second Fleet in orbit around Ord Canfre's farthest moon. His flagship the Lucid Voice was the sister ship of Grievous's terrifying Invisible Hand, but larger. Admiral Norith standing at his right side had just finished explaining to him the recent modifications that had been made to the Lucid Voice.

Two sections had been added to the already massive cruiser, extending its length from just over a thousand meters to two thousand plus meters. It was now classified as a dreadnought and no longer a destroyer. Admiral Norith had installed six new main dual turbo-laser turrets atop the ship, and two on each side straddling the carrier section under the command spire. This was an addition to a ship already bristling with quad turbo-laser batteries, flak guns for broadside confrontations, and ion cannons that rivaled nuclear weapons in sheer heat. This wasn't counting its dual laser or point defense cannons at all.

The dual turbo-laser cannons were designed to be smaller and more compact. This increased accommodation on the ships more slender structure, and could rotate one-hundred and eighty degrees, unlike the Republic's DBY-827 turret. Another feature the new turrets didn't share with their counterparts, were they were fully retractable, due to their smaller more compact size. The last dual turret was placed on the rear of the ship at the base of the tower to provide some cover for escapes.

The hull had been reinforced and the defense armament doubled to increase survivability. The shields had also been upgraded and now included secondary thermal shields after reading Admiral's Trench's reported use of them at the Battle of Christophsis. One other feature that General Beta had installed on the ship was a class one hyperdrive, making the ship just as fast as the Republic's ships.

If the ship's new design proved to be a success in the campaign, then Beta would order it into full production at Ord Canfre's shipyards on its third moon. All existing ships in his fleets would be modified to meet the specifications. It was all part of his plan. He needed to be prepared for more than just the current war.

"Admiral! We have an incoming transmission from Serrano!" Captain Ginn alerted her superiors from her command chair overlooking the rest of the bridge. "It's Count Dooku."

"Count Dooku," Beta muttered under his breath to Admiral Norith being careful that no one else heard his displeasure with the name.

"What's wrong with Count Dooku?" Norith replied bewildered at Beta's seeming disdain.

Beta turned to Norith who had finished her recovery. She had her eyes surgically modified with cybernetics so that she could relay instructions to her droid crews through thought and any command or tactical droid in the Second Fleet within one light hour.

"I just wasn't expecting the Count to contact me before the campaign even began," Beta replied irritated. "Patch him through." Beta instructed.

"Accept the transmission Captain. Don't keep the Count waiting." Norith ordered. She didn't know Count Dooku on a personal level. However, after hearing tidbits from General Beta and his experience with him, it was best not to keep the leader of the Confederacy waiting.

"Yes ma'am," Captain Ginn opened the transmission, and Count Dooku's transparent figure appeared before Beta and Norith.

"General Beta… Admiral Norith," Dooku began inquisitively. "I take both of you are prepared for your part in Grievous's offensive?"

"We are my Lord. We're awaiting his order," Beta replied. Beta wasn't surprised by the Count's intrusion. Unbeknown to Admiral Norith or anyone else in the Confederacy, General Beta had a secret that only he and the Count himself knew.

"Good General. Failure will not be acceptable in this operation. In order for the Confederacy to gain a foothold into the Republic's core worlds, it is essential that you execute your strategy flawlessly. I look forward to hearing of your success. Do not fail me, general. I will be keeping watch over the operation," Dooku's transmission vanished.

"This is an interesting development. I wasn't expecting him to be mindful this early on," Beta sighed. "I need you to be cautious anytime the Count makes contact from now on. If I deem anything off the record, he isn't to hear about it from anyone but myself and on my terms. Am I clear?"

Admiral Norith was perplexed by Beta's request. "You know that if I were to withhold information from our leader, that it could be paramount to treason? I know you had Grievous and his support for your promotion. What aren't you telling me?" Norith said crossing her arms growing suspicious of Beta's wary attitude.

"There are over a thousand generals in the Separatist Army. The majority of them being made up of different species from many worlds, all controlling swathes of the massive Droid Army. Just as there are as many admirals in the Confederate Navy. Of those commanding officers there are additional organic officers and thousands of more tactical droids," Beta started.

Admiral Norith was perplexed. She had no idea what he was going on about. She wanted to know why he was so wary of the Count and he replied with the demographics of the Droid Army. "Okay, so what? Our military is massive. It's massive for a reason. It's a galactic conflict! What point are you trying to make?" Admiral Norith replied.

"Who do we fight Admiral?" Beta posed the question. What he knew and the Admiral didn't, he could never let her know. She was a respected officer and a good friend, but he couldn't drag her into personal affairs that involved the Count. Beta needed her for long after what would come between him and the Count. The best way to do that was to keep her out of it for now.

"We fight the Republic," Admiral Norith retorted. He could tell she was getting flustered at his dodging. She was the type that wanted a straight answer, no beating around the bush.

"Who do we fight in space and on the ground?" He specified, but only to get her away from the issue with the Count.

"The Grand Army of the Republic. Or just a bunch of clones and their officers. We view them as slaves, whatever you want to call it."

"Precisely. And what are the clones? They are human. In fact, humans and near-humans dominate the core worlds, at least two-thirds of it and the majority of their military is human or near-human. You would find the exact opposite in the Confederate military structure. Of the organic command, only three percent are human. Except in our military where over half of our organic structure is comprised of humans or near-humans."

"Are you trying to stay that we are being scrutinized because of the make-up of our organic command structure?" Admiral Norith asked incredulously. She couldn't believe the words coming out of Beta's mouth. "That would only make sense if the parliament or council was questioning us."

"I'm saying that because I am second only to the Supreme Commander, Grievous himself… we are under scrutiny from not only the Separatist Council but by Raxus as well… Many worlds wanted their generals in line for the position."

"That's a bunch of bantha-crap." Admiral Norith deadpanned. "I know there are distrustful sentiments between many Separatists and Human Separatists and where loyalties lie and what not. But you're straying far off-topic. I asked about the count and you're delving into the demographic ruptures in our government."

"It's more complicated than you know Admiral. The Council found it entirely strange and suspicious that I was able to come out alive from the Hapan Consortium. Not only did I come out alive, but I managed to secure a Hapan Admiral and her entire compliment. Isn't that suspicious enough? The entire galaxy hasn't had contact with the Hapan Cluster for over three thousand years and I was able to walk out with technical support, their most prized officer, and even tech…"

Beta was beginning to ramble about a story that Admiral Norith knew all too well. She didn't want to hear any more of it. "I know that very well, general. I am that admiral after all, and the very crew that surrounds you are my Hapan sisters who compliment this vessel and the Second Fleet. It's your skills that outsmarted my Queen in a game of wits that got me here. Still, that's doesn't explain your comments to me about the Count."

"He's Count Dooku. What more do you need? He's the Head of State of the Separatist Alliance. He's involved in politics, and politicians have nothing better to do than complain and groan." Beta countered. "Just be careful about how you address me in his presence. I don't want him to suspect anything at all. As far as anyone knows, my promotion has hardly any significance in the eyes of the galaxy at large."

Admiral Norith shook her head in frustration. General Beta frustrated her in more ways than one. Most of the time he was straightforward and confident. But whenever it dealt with something that bothered him in the slightest he was a closed book.

"Look, general…" Admiral Norith moved closer to Beta so she could take a quieter tone. She didn't want the rest of the crew listening in any more than they had to, and it seemed Captain Ginn had taken quite the interest. "If we are going to trust each other I need you to be open with me. Even with that stupid Mandalorian helmet on, I… we can tell that you aren't at ease. Something is happening. No matter how stubborn you are, we still respect you as our superior."

"Rain?" Beta quietly whispered her first name as to not let the rest of the crew know they knew each other on a more personal level.

"Yes..?" Norith replied surprised. He had never used her first name unless they were alone.

"I see you still respect my request not to reveal my true identity," Beta said gratefully. "For now… just drop the subject. I simply wish to make you aware that some things don't need to be disclosed to the Count."

Admiral Norith sighed seemingly defeated but no less frustrated with him. "I swear general, you not only have my utmost respect but my loyalty as well." General Beta nodded to Norith's answer to which she returned a small smile.

"Incoming transmission from the Invisible Hand! It's General Grievous!" Captain Ginn interrupted them. Once more the war calling on them and their respective roles in it.

Admiral Norith rolled her eyes sighing. "But don't think I'm just gonna completely let you off the hook, your comrade is going to drop this… for now," Norith smiled. Although she couldn't see it, she knew under his battle helmet he was smirking back.

"Admiral, one more favor. Could you contact Alex? Inform her I have a job if she's up to it, I'll pay triple," Beta instructed as he turned back to the view-port to continue watching his fleet marshal. "Captain Ginn. Please be so kind as to see what our Supreme Commander wants."

IV.

"So the question is why the Separatists poured so many resources into taking Malastare?" Anakin Skywalker observed as he and the rest conversed with the Jedi Council in a tent outside a Dug encampment.

"Hmmm… perhaps a prelude of what to come it is," Yoda pointed his stick out, his hologram flickering.

"Mind you it isn't just Malastare they attacked with sheer force but other planets too," Obi-wan reminded the rest. "What is unsettling is the number of battle droids that were poured into this fight with no clear objective other than to cause terror."

"It's unsettling, it isn't like Dooku to waste this many resources on a few worlds when they can be better used elsewhere," Windu told the council. "I know the Separatists have been trying to take these worlds for some time, however, their attacks seemed to be formed on a loose strategy at best."

"And since when does Dooku care for anything? He's a Sith Lord," Anakin remarked with a sly grin. "The last time I checked, Dooku's entire existence is to wreak havoc across the galaxy."

"He may be a Sith Lord but he is diligent and very thorough. It is completely out of his nature to be reckless," Mundi replied back.

"Ah, but we also thought that Dooku was just a political ideologist. We never imagined him plotting war with the Republic and look where we are now," Obi-wan pointed out.

"Maybe they're becoming desperate?" Mundi suggested.

"No. They still have the advantage in numbers and strength. Maybe the corporations funding the movement are losing their will to fight?" Obi-wan tried to add to the theory.

"I'm doubtful of that. I don't believe Count Dooku is having trouble keeping his thugs in line," Mace Windu countered.

The Jedi Council was at an impasse. They could not figure out why the Separatists seemed to be in disarray. The Separatist offensive had been haphazard and sporadic as if out of desperation. General Grievous and Count Dooku seemed to have vanished from the battlefield. The few worlds that had been attacked were assaulted by sheer force. No strategy, no tactics, no end game.

Although the Jedi wanted to celebrate the victories they had won, they could not. General Grievous wasn't one to go quietly and Count Dooku indeed had a strategy. They couldn't believe this was it. While the council continued to debate, Kim and the others sat in the back of the room, quiet. Kim sat with her face buried in her hands.

The battle had frayed Kim's nerves. Destroying and cutting battle droids into pieces didn't faze her. She had destroyed countless robots back on Earth while saving the world. However, here she wasn't facing a few killer robots, but a galactic scale army of battle droids. Saving the Earth was one thing, but a galaxy?

The war was already taking its toll on her mind. In the last few weeks, she had personally seen hundreds of clones die on the battlefield, and now under her first command at the Second Battle of Malastare. After the first dozen or so had died she realized there was nothing she could do. She couldn't save all of them. For every clone trooper, there were dozens of battle droids. The battle droids usually didn't care if they were shot or destroyed, as long as clone troopers and Jedi continued to die it was okay.

She remembered the first trooper who died in her hands. A super battle droid had blasted him before she could disarm and destroy it. He was reloading so he didn't stand a chance. She had held him in her hands as he suffered, Obi-wan defending them from the onslaught. She tried to bring him back but nothing would. The deaths continued as the war dragged on. They all haunted her. Obi-wan had tried to help her deal with the aching in her soul, but it just became worse.

"Kim?" She felt a hand grasp her shoulder. She turned around finding a concerned Ahsoka looking down on her. "Are you alright?"

Kim rubbed the weariness from her eyes, the last thing she wanted right now was to talk about her problems with anyone. "Yea, I'm fine I guess. Just tired from earlier." She lied. She wasn't tired from the battle. She was weary of keeping up a fake smile and determination. She didn't want to let others know that she was being dragged down by the horrors of war.

Ahsoka frowned, crouching down and taking up a seat against the wall next to her. "Listen Kim. I know what you're going through," Ahsoka started. She herself had been involved in the war since the Battle of Christophsis. She was also younger than Kim by a little over two years, just nearing the age of fifteen.

Kim glowered. She held a strong dislike about the Jedi and their telepathic abilities. Especially since some of them had more advanced knowledge of the techniques and could read her emotions like an open book. Though she doubted Ahsoka had the same skill as say Yoda, she could tell she could sense strong feelings. "And how do you know?"

Ahsoka held her arm looking away, "I know it's hard to deal with, but this is the way the galaxy is now. When I started as a padawan with Master Skywalker, I thought that we'd change everything. I thought just he and I could save the galaxy. I was wrong," Ahsoka explained sighing in exasperation.

"And how were you wrong?" Kim asked. Ever since she had met Ahsoka, she saw a younger version of herself. A young heroine that was talented, smart, witty, and sarcastic just like herself. She never wavered from any challenge that presented itself.

"I couldn't save everyone, even some that I deeply cared about. People I had known since I was a child. I don't know how many people I've let down, or watch die because there was nothing I could do or wasn't strong enough. You can't just undo things either," Ahsoka explained. Kim could see the deep-seated sadness in her eyes, bubbling up from the depths of her soul.

"Tano-san is right. I cannot sleep. I haven't slept in three days. I can't forget their faces…" Yori trailed off. Kim turned to her, finding her gazing up into the polluted orange Malastarian skies. "I was also trained since I was a little girl. I was trained and conditioned into a warrior. I went from a girl with no inherent talent to someone on par with the best at my school."

Kim looked down at her feet. But it was my thing. I saved Earth all the time Kim sighed at her thoughts. It was hard for her to accept the fact that this was bigger than her. Around the galaxy battles and skirmishes raged on. Some planets had delved into civil war, split between staying loyal to an ancient Republic she knew little about and the Separatists, a faction she knew even less about.

"I don't… I don't think I've ever failed saving someone. I know war is different. I read about it all the time in school. My great grandfather told me about storming the beaches in France. But I never thought that I would have to deal with it. We were in a different time. We were dealing with rogue villains and madmen. Failing at a mission is one thing, but failing to save a life?" Kim was showing her regrets in the war thus far. Not saving one life to her was like not saving any at all.

Yori listened to Kim's words intently letting them flow through her, keep her gaze up at the sky. She knew that Kim had been through this on Earth but Kim was able to focus on the mission at hand for the greater good of everyone else. Now here they sat in the middle of a Dug encampment, waiting for the war's next chapter. "Now you are seeing the bigger picture Possible-san. The Diablo crisis affected the world and although you brought about its end, what about the carnage everyone else endured?" Yori asked.

"But I couldn't focus on everyone! I had to focus on Drakken. That was the only way to save everyone," Kim replied frustrated. The Diablo Crisis was not her shining moment in her fight against villains and mad scientists. She had rather forget about it.

"Then that is what we have to do here. It pains me to say this, it really does… but these clone troopers… are merely a means to an end in a war that is beyond our comprehension, at least at this point. I have come to the conclusion we must help the Jedi focus on stopping Dooku and Grievous if we are to end the suffering of this galaxy and find Stoppable-san," Yori looked down at her black boots.

"How can you look at it like that?" Kim asked angered her blood boiling. She had never thought she would hear Yori speak that way, especially since she was a friend of Ron. Ron could never like someone with so little empathy. She couldn't see it the way Yori had just explained it to her.

"This isn't saving the world Possible-san. This is war," Yori stated solemnly. "Do not mistake my view on the war and its means as to how I feel. I am merely separating my feelings from what I must do. Believe me, Possible-san, if giving up my life would end this war and free Stoppable-san, I would do it without a second thought."

"It's true. I never wanted this. I always thought that as soon as I joined the war, that Master Skywalker and I could bring about its end quickly. But I've learned that even he can't control everything. This is just how things are and we have to cope. We have to fight for that better future," Ahsoka squeezed her arm hugging herself tighter.

"So that's how you view it too? Just like Yori!" Kim was angered by Ahsoka's response. It wasn't just Ahsoka either. All the Jedi seemed to care to some extent about others including the clones. But when it came to the war, the Jedi saw it as the clones' duty to serve and die for the Republic. They were doing exactly what they were bred for.

"Don't get me wrong Kim. Captain Rex and some of the other clones are some of my best friends. I couldn't ask to have better men under my command. But I, like you had to learn the hard way to let go," Ahsoka explained.

"What do you mean let go?" Kim asked. That very statement irked Kim to her core. To let go? Kim couldn't let go. She couldn't let go of her search for Ron. With respect to that goal, she couldn't let go of her ideals to save others. This was who she was, she saved people who needed her help. What use was she if she couldn't even do that?

"That is a concept that could be impossible for Possible-san to understand Tano-san," Yori explained. Ever since meeting Kim, Yori had thought of Kim as someone who could never comprehend failing. Kim to her was an idealist, not a realist in that sense.

"Look at it this way Kim. You can't save everybody, every day. You have to accept that at one point you'll fail," Ahsoka explained. Ahsoka herself had failed many times before and often to her own Master's chagrin.

Kim pondered over what Ahsoka and Yori had told her. The war was taking more of a toll on her than she anticipated. She couldn't have gotten this far without their help. As her time had passed in this galaxy, she had come to terms that her greatest strength wasn't that she was a 'Possible', but she was never alone. Before this sitch, Ron had always been by her side. Her family stood behind her. She had Monique. She had the support of friends from all around the world.

Here, however, there was no Ron to have her back. Her parents weren't here to comfort her and give her unappreciated advice. No Monique to listen to her girl troubles. A wad of spit lumped in her throat as the realization hit hard. She had to start over. New friends. New enemies. New worlds. Here she had no anchor.

The war had slowly started to wear at her spirit. The only drive keeping her fight alive was the hope that Ron was out there. But with every battle that she helped fight in this war. With every atrocity she witnessed by the hands of the Separatists, it seemed less and less likely that he was.

V.

Weary. Tired. Drained. Exhausted.

Ron had come up with many words and their definitions to explain how his mind and body felt for the last eight weeks. He had been forced to drag himself through miles of muddy swamps. Climb the hand-numbing, snowy peaks of Ord Canfre's southern hemisphere. Run into the skin blistering sandstorms of Ord Canfre's second moon.

Every morning he had been woken by the base's blaring sirens of an attack. At first, he was treated like any grunt or any B-1 battle droid. He learned very quickly to make haste to his post in the wake of one. His post wasn't that luxurious for someone who was training under Aella to be someone who could fight with a lightsaber and the Force. He was tasked with manning a heavy repeater with two B-1 battle droids.

After manning the heavy repeater every morning for the first week, he was charged with training with a sword, which Aella didn't even perform, just oversaw. He trained and learned how to operate an AAT, the droids main manned battle tank. He was taught to drive it, be the commander and the gunner. Every position he was required to learn, and not with Aella but basic, sometimes incompetent B-1 battle droids. It was frustrating, to say the least learning from a B-1 battle droid. The AAT and the heavy laser repeater weren't the only vehicles and weapons he would learn to use.

By the end of his first week, he had started training with B-1's standard weaponry. He learned the basic blaster rifle of the Droid Army, the E-5, and how to become proficient with it. The next was the E-5C a mobile heavy repeater and then the E-5S, a sniper variant. He would only be issued the E-5S since the other blasters were only intended for droid use. He instead would be issued a modified variant called the E-5A. It was intended for organics to use as it carried more shots, had better accuracy, and a cooling system so it wouldn't overheat.

In his first week, he made the mistake of not making time. He had tripped over his pants falling around his ankles on the way down the hall. The B-1's mocking him didn't help any. As punishment, Beta had arranged OM-1 and his squad to pose as the enemy and fire stun rounds from their blasters while he practiced deflecting shots with Aella's lightsaber. They hurt more than any torture device Drakken had imagined. Aella scolded him, reminding him that if he wasn't ready he could expect this from the enemy or worse.

His second and third weeks of training didn't fare any better. He had finally been issued his E-5A blaster rifle. It was more accurate than the standard E-5. But Aella wouldn't accept a better rifle as an excuse to slack and forced him to become proficient with it at longer ranges. He did, even when running he became adept at firing accurate shots from a distance.

Sleep had become laying in his cot awake waiting for the alarm to blare. The fear of waking late to drills and training scared him more than losing sleep. That turned out to be a mistake when he collapsed during a drill exercise half a week through. When he awoke the next day, it was in the middle of Ord Canfre's thick Vander Forest with a day's rations. His mission was written in ink: RETURN TO BASE AND AVOID HOSTILITIES. What Ron thought was an easy task was anything but. It was then he learned just how valuable his blaster rifle was. Without his weapons for defense, he had to run from the ambushes set by Aella.

The fourth and fifth week had broken his spirit and will to continue. The only thing keeping him from quitting wasn't the instilled determination or perseverance. No, it was the consequence of punishment waiting if he failed. He almost always did. The punishment was always more rigorous than the actual exercises. Sometimes he thought that Aella had no soul. She was a soulless teacher bent on making him nothing more than an empty shell. A shadow of his previous self.

He had grown accustomed to the sludge that the droids served in the small mess hall around that time. It was worse than mystery meat but that didn't matter now. At that point, food was necessary to survive and he would take what he could get.

He learned to ride a STAP in his fifth week of training. It was hard to get a handle of since it wasn't anything remotely like a bike or moped. More like a segway that just hovered above the ground. It was the only vehicle that Ron liked, but it wasn't meant to be. Ron was instead trained to ride a captured BARC speeder from the Galactic Republic, which was simpler for him to get accustomed to.

The Galactic Republic. That was another thing Ron wasn't accustomed to but was reminded of every day. The Galactic Republic and Confederacy were at war, and throughout his entire training, he was taught nothing of it. To him, it was a mystery. Aella did teach him about the Jedi and their institution in the Republic. But by the fifth week of his training, he had learned little else of what his enemy was. He had only learned that the Republic used clone troopers as front line soldiers. He practiced against cutouts and holo-targets all the time.

Even with all the training, the war seemed like distant thunder. Mysterious and hard to understand, Ron didn't know what to make of it. Aella never brought up the war to Ron or its politics. Ron only heard about it in low whispers amongst some Nemoidians or chatty battle droids that had participated in the last battle with the Republic.

The sixth week saw a departure from Ron's usual training. Instead of training with a blaster rifle or in some type of ground vehicle or repulsor-craft, Ron saw something he never thought he would see, starfighter training. The fighter that was assigned to him wasn't some modified version of a Vulture droid or Tri-fighter, but a Rogue-class starfighter, modified specifically for him. It was a new experience for Ron, flying high in the clouds of Ord Canfre.

His first flight in the Rogue-class was nothing that Ron thought it was going to be like. It had soared smoothly into the sky from the main base where he had been brought to weeks ago as a prisoner. If Dementor had told him he would be soaring over the base he would have laughed, but he did. He soared over the base, the town, and the planet's serene beauty. That was just the start as for the next two days he performed maneuvers and exercises alongside Tri-fighter droids in and around the blockade. He even practiced micro-jumps in hyperspace which was a thrilling experience.

By the seventh week, he was training exclusively in hand to hand combat and swordsmanship. He had finally been handed a lightsaber, albeit it wasn't actually his but Beta's. He would have to make his own. His knowledge of the force had increased as Aella had slowly started to teach him around this time. He was able to move small objects like rocks and hurl them against an opponent. The end of the seventh week had been his glimpse into the future. Deflecting blaster shots, moving small objects through telekinesis, and propelling himself to jump higher.

By the eighth week, he had adjusted to using a lightsaber and had learned the first form of lightsaber combat. He could now disarm an enemy and even hold his own it a duel with Aella… for a couple of minutes at least. She trained as if each situation was a real encounter. He could even deflect blaster shots from OM-1, granted that Beta's favored commando droid wasn't trying.

Now he sat in his quarters on his newly christened flagship, the Providence dreadnought Asura, another one of Admiral Norith's modified dreadnoughts in Beta's fleet. His room was different than that on the base planetside. It was bigger with an actual bed, but nothing too luxurious. There was a small metal dresser that stuck out from the walls where he could put clothes or personal belongings. There was a closet for uniforms and in another separate space a restroom. He thought that maybe a dreadnought would have better quarters seeing as how large the ship was. In the end, the ship was built more for battle droids.

He stared into his new face. The face of his new position. The face of his new life. The new silver of his Mandalorian battle helmet and armor, the green paint around the t-shaped visor. Beta had bought the Beskar, while on Mandalore. He then had the armor forged to Ron's height and his physique. Not his old physique but the one that Ron had acquired throughout his training and conditioning. He wasn't the same old Ron, he had developed muscle in his chest and arms, his legs were sturdier and his abdomen toned.

His Westar-45 blaster pistol holstered on his right hip. His own lightsaber hung off his utility belt, hidden just behind his holster. He had just constructed it on the Ord Canfre's third moon. He had used a blue crystal with its construction. His E-5A blaster rifle was strapped to his back beside his jet-pack on a magnetic rail. Although he looked ready to fight a thousand battles in any war, his mind still couldn't grasp it.

Beta and the others had told him this was the only way if he wanted to become the best he could be. They had given him the choice to leave on his own but added they could not guarantee his safety. The war was one of many tests. It was his first battleground between the fight for good and evil and it wouldn't be his last. Ron didn't want this, he wanted his old life. But somewhere buried in his sub-conscious, a small voice was crying out FINALLY! FINALLY, YOU'VE BECOME RON STEP-UPPABLE!

That voice had grown over the last eight weeks, from the ashes of a broken spirit. Deep down, Ron was somewhat happy that he had become more self-reliant. He hated to say it, but he was grateful that Beta, Aella, and Svana were so harsh on him during his initial training.

He had been molded like clay into their design. He was no longer a sidekick. Instead, he was an apprentice to his teachers. Svana apparently had her own apprentice that Ron had yet to meet. Ron was eager to see if they had been through the same hell as he had been.

"Commander Stoppable, sir?" A pair of B-1 battle droids holding their blaster rifles appeared in the doorway.

Ron looked up from his thoughts at the pair. He remembered that he now was a superior commander to most battle droids in the Droid Army, exempting OM-1 and his squad. He'd been given the rank of commander after he finished his initial training.

"Yes?" Ron asked putting the battle helmet to his side. He didn't want to put the stuffy helmet over his head just yet. He'd wait until an actual battle commenced.

"General Xzelas demands your presence on the bridge immediately," the B-1 battle droid informed. Xzelas, Aella's surname that was used by the droids and most others.

"Okay. Let her know I'll be there soon," Ron replied, looking down at the rank displayed on his armor. Two thin yellow bars were displayed horizontally on his chest plate. Three less than Beta, two less than both Aella and Svana. He wasn't the top guy, but he wasn't a sidekick either. It gave him a strong sense of pride and respect for himself, something he had never felt before. He had accomplished something that would be impossible for most others.

But in the back of his mind, something ate away at him. It stemmed from the ten weeks of hell he had just endured to get here. This was a war he was getting himself into. The more he mulled on the idea of it, the more it just didn't add up to who he was. And the idea of killing didn't seem to fit Ron's morals. He was against the idea but hadn't brought it up to his teacher's.

He sighed standing up checking his blasters. The war as it was described to him didn't make sense. Why would the Jedi fight for a corrupt Republic and put down the minority species in the Outer Rim? Why wouldn't they listen? It also didn't explain why General Beta and Aella were on the side of the Confederacy. How did they get here?

He double-checked his gear ensuring that he had everything that Aella had asked him for.

Jet-pack. Check.

Blasters. Check.

Lightsaber. Check.

Rations and Water. Check.

He had everything he needed. He stood up and followed the battle droids out the door. He took one last look into the dull room. If there was one thing that initial training had taught him, it was that he wouldn't be seeing this room for days or even weeks. One thing he was certain about, last night was the last full eight hours of rest he would get in a long time.