"Sirs, this is a terrible mistake!"TC-16 inserted into a brief pause in the firefight.
"Keep him quiet," Vos snapped at Warthog, the clone closest to the droid. "Shut him up or shut him down!"
"But, sirs-"
Sinker glanced at Vos and motioned down the corridor behind them. "General Vos, six infantry droids advancing on our position! We're going to be caught in a crossfire!"
Quinlan Vos gave his head a quick shake. "Wrong. Follow me-and bring the droid. He might be useful after all."
A muffled sound of dismay escaped TC-16's vocabulator before Warthog shoved it along.
Fury clouded Vos' eyes. Lightsaber held high in his right arm, he whirled into the intersecting corridor. The signatures in the force he sensed had led him to Gunray and for the briefest moment he saw him; he had tracked his quarry only for it to escape yet again. Thoughts he had once suppressed now emerged with vengeance. Without thinking about it, Vos was drawing upon the dark side once more and masked his presence to the approaching droids. He began to bring images to mind to fuel his rage. It wasn't difficult, with so many to choose from: the sabotage of Vanqor, the revelations he experienced on Serreno, the battle against his allies aboard the Vigilance, Christophsis...
Green blade flashing, he cut a swath through the super battle droids, opening their burnished carapaces with diagonal slashes, cutting off blaster arms, hobbling the droids by deflecting bolts into their hermetically sealed knees. Scarcely letting a shot get past him, so that the clones following in his wake could concentrate their fire on the ones Vos only wounded. If the clones had any doubts about the ruthlessness to which Vos slew the separatist forces, Vos didn't sense it.
Their enemies fell aside, almost as if surrendering.
Focused on the route Gunray and his lackeys had taken, Vos raced through corridors, rounding corners without slowing down, sprinting for the launching bay at the far end of the final corridor. Confronted with an blast door, he thrust his glowing blade into the metal as if it were living flesh. Lips drawn back over his teeth, he tried to force the lightsaber to burn a fast circle in the door. He brought his will to bear on the task, but the lightsaber could accomplish only so much, even in the hands of a powerful Jedi. He could taste the stench of burning metal as plasma seared into this barrier to victory.
Withdrawing the blade, he stepped back from the door and moved his hands through a Force pass, willing the iris portal to open. The door shuddered but remained sealed. Screaming through gnashed teeth, he tried again to no avail.
When the clones of the Wolfpack finally caught up with him, he spun to them.
"Blow the door! Melt it down! Do anything!"
Sinker hurried forward to place magnetic charges against the alloy that was partially melted down. Vos paced behind him, waiting. One of the clones had to tug him to a safe distance. Far behind them, security droids ran to their position. Red bolts of energy were exchanged with blue bolts shot by the clone troopers. Metallic bodies collapsed from direct hits.
The charges blew, and the portal yielded.
Vos charged through the irising seal even before it had opened fully. The launching bay was littered with containers, articles of clothing, objects the Neimoidians hadn't had time or space to take with them. Only a few B1 battle droids remained. The shuttle was gone.
Vos snarled as he levitated the two unsuspecting battle droids and slammed them into one another. A heaping pile of scrap was all that remained of the hanger crew. Wisps of vapor swirled about, and the air smelled faintly of fuel. Vos ran to the platform's forward-curving edge, eyes scanning Cato Neimoidia's light-riddled night sky for some sign of the fleeing ship. The palace's defensive shield had been deactivated. Thick packets of crimson light lanced from laser cannon batteries on the slopes below.
Vos' teammates joined him at the brink, Warthog with a hand vised on TC-16's upper left arm, the others securing the landing zone. Far above, flying from the opposite direction, a group of LAAT gunships flew towards the landing site. The moment they landed, more troopers piled out, establishing a foothold on the fortress. The deep humming of their engines nearly drowned out Vos' interrogation of the protocol droid.
"What type of ship is it?" Vos demanded of the droid.
TC-16 tipped his head to one side. "Ship, sir?"
"The shuttle-Gunray's shuttle. What model?" Vos repeated, holding his lightsaber to teecee's silver face.
"Why, I believe it was a Sheathipede-class, sir" the droid stammered.
"Haor Chall Engineering-Sheathipede-class transport shuttle," Warthog explained. "Model is based on the soldier beetles. Communication records report that Gunray's is named the Lapiz Cutter."
"General Vos, I have General Skywalker asking for an update on the pursuit" Sinker reported.
Vos turned through a circle, gloved hand gripped on the lightsaber pommel, the other balled into a fist. A conduit nearby took the brunt of his anger. Cleaved by the blade, it fell in pieces to the landing platform 's seamless floor. The campaign on Cato Nemoidia was falling apart. If Gunray escaped, it was all for nothing. Roaring in frustration, Vos fell to his knees.
Vos took a deep breath and lowered his gaze. The feelings of anger were slowly leaving him. The surge of aggression was now a mark of shame. Dark energy now stung his muscles and he clenched his fists. Now, all he was angry at was himself. Vos was thankful that Master Plo wasn't around to see his actions. It might have been enough to recommend his expulsion from the Jedi order, from which he could never return. His desire to see Gunray captured nearly compromised his path to redemption. It would be like this for a long time, if not always, he thought bitterly. Not until Gunray was in the grip of the Republic. Not until Dooku was brought to justice. Not until the war was truly over.
"Give it to me" Vos said at last, standing to his feet. "I better explain what he's up against."
"General Vos," A clone said from behind him. "Urgent from Commander Wolfe. He and General Plo are pinned down on level one."
Vos shot him a questioning look. "By droids?"
"A lot of them, apparently" the clone shrugged.
Vos glanced into the glowing sky, which now included the tail-lights on Gunray's ship, then back at Sinker.
"Wolfe mentioned that Plo Koon's mask has been damaged in the shooting,"the clone added.
That made Vos think twice. Without his breathing mask, Plo Koon was dealing with a toxic atmosphere. It was the one curse to his species that made inter-planetary travel hazardous. He didn't know how long the Jedi general could last, let alone in combat. The weight on his chest only seemed to grow even heavier. He had to make a decision. Vos returned to the lip of the platform, blowing his breath into the night. Day had long since passed.
"Where did you say Plo Koon and Wolfe are?"
"Level one, sir. In the shipping area."
Vos compressed his lips. He would have to leave Gunray to Skywalker. For now, he had a Jedi to save. "All right. Let's go rescue Master Plo and the others. Inform General Skywalker that Gunray is his."
Streaking towards the upper atmosphere was an entourage of Separatist shuttles, all of which were the Sheathipede-class models that TC-16 described below on the landing pad. Aboard one of these ships was Nute Gunray, the leader of the Trade Federation. All Anakin needed to do was find the ship and intercept it before it could reach safety. Far behind the shuttles and accelerating into attack speed was Anakin's Jedi interceptor and the four ARC-170's.
"What am I looking at, Admiral!" Anakin spoke into his comm link, addressing his personal admiral aboard the Resolute II, the successor to the Venator-class star destroyer destroyed at the Battle of Sullust.
"General Skywalker." Admiral Yularen replied. "Our scanners have spotted more than sixty shuttles and landing craft launched from the redoubt. Thirteen destroyed, eighteen seized. An unknown quantity have managed to dock aboard Trade Federation core ships and open-ring Lucrehulk carriers. Additional shuttles are still in the envelope. Commander Dodanna and I are pressing forward against heavy resistance."
Anakin's face tensed. Gunray was relying on fake targets to mask his escape. If what Vos told him was correct, they were trying to single out one shuttle among more than sixty. If they destroyed the wrong shuttle, Gunray dies and any knowledge he possesses dies with him. While Anakin would relish seeing the Nemoidian meet his demise, he wanted to know with certainty that he was gone if that was the case. "Recall every fighter we have and get the fleet into position. We're bringing down their capital ships." Anakin ordered.
"And how exactly are you going to find Gunray amidst all the chaos?" Yularen pressed.
"You know me, admiral. I'll find a way."
"Very well, sir. We're moving to engage. Good hunting."
"Artoo, try to lock onto their transmissions. Find out which one Gunray is aboard."
Beeping a sarcastic reply about the extreme difficulty of such a task, Anakin pulled on the yoke of his starfighter and banked right. R2-D2 may have been Anakin's trusted astromech droid, and together they did countless feats throughout the clone wars. Before Artoo, Anakin piloted the Azure Angel and interacted with an R4 series droid. Anakin bonded with everything he interacted with, unless you were a droid that secretly worked for General Grievous of course. However, Artoo was special. Their first mission together was when he accidentally entered the cockpit of an N1 starfighter and fought alongside Bravo squadron in the liberation of Naboo. All when he was nine years of age! Since then, Anakin speculated that the force was protecting him that day, though Artoo would tease Anakin that his survival was due to the droid's piloting skills. Ever since, it was a small contest between maker and creation, very akin to the tallies between himself and his former master, Obi Wan.
"Anakin, where are you" the comm link chimed, returning to life.
"Don't worry, Obi Wan. I'm engaging the enemy."
"And Gunray?"
"On his tail."
"Wonderful" Obi Wan spoke with disappointment. "I suspect the plan is now, destroy the enemy?"
"Are you saying you would prefer to fly?" Anakin asked, with a shallow grin. "I thought you disliked flying?"
"Oh no, you are quite right. I hate flying. I'm returning to the fleet, where I can watch you do your work."
"I'll take that as permission to do blow things up?" Anakin asked.
"You can hurt the shuttles." Obi Wan answered with disapproval. "But blow up the droids, please."
"Yes, master" Anakin replied with a slight hinge of disappointment. "It's not as fun as you think it is."
Switching his comm link to the clone's frequency, Anakin relayed orders. They were several thousand kilometers away from the shuttles, even flying at full speed. Worse still, Munificent-class frigates were moving into a defensive screening around the core ships and Lucrehulk rings. The four ARC-170s had since opened their S foils and trailed behind Anakin's fighter. The nearest frigate fired volleys toward Anakin and his fighters but they were designed to attack large assault cruisers, not sleek agile fighters. The turbolaser fire was inaccurate and slow.
Far behind Anakin, the Resolute II was joined by various destroyers and support vessels. Onboard one of them must have been his former master. As he began to surmise how to go about harassing the shuttles while avoiding the naval defenses, a new voice appeared.
"General Skywalker, this is Commander Jan Dodonna. Do you have a moment?"
"What can I do, commander?" Anakin replied quickly.
"I have flights of V wing fighters on standy ready to assist you, but we need to clear a path. If you can destroy just a few more of those Munificents we might be able to get into range of the Lucrehulk battleships. The Venators can attack their shields and we can focus on disabling their engines. The viceroy will have nowhere to run."
"Might take a while. There's only five of us" Anakin remarked.
"Well, if the rumors are true, they say you might be the best pilot in the Jedi order."
Unable to resist a laugh, Anakin's face warmed for a moment. "I'll make sure to give you one hell of a performance."
"Then lead your fighters to victory, Skywalker. May the force be with you."
Anakin propelled the starfighter upward while the ARC-170s launched their own volleys of fire towards the closest frigate. Together, the flight of starfighters formed a horizontal line that charged upwards. It was a trick he improvised when attacking the Malevolence years prior, but this time without the risk of an ion cannon disabling them. Forcing his hands on the yoke hard, the interceptor rolled dangerously fast, stabilizers barely holding together. The clones took slower turns to account for their increased size but Anakin showed no such caution. Artoo screamed as Anakin dove straight towards the bridge of the frigate. Flying this close, he would be able to barely bypass the auto-turret defenses. On his port wing, the ARC-170s unleashed proton torpedoes onto the hull of the frigate, blasts of particles overwhelming the shields coating the frigate. Exposed, Anakin's interceptor blasted the bridge into superheated gas with a volley of cannonfire. The frigate drifted aimlessly away as Venators fired on the now defenseless starship.
Realigning himself, Anakin saw squadrons of Vulture droids bearing onto his position. "Clear out, pilots" he commanded over the comm. "I'll take care of the fighters."
Up next was a trick that worked handsomely well on Muunlinst, back when the war was just in its infancy. The droid starfighters attempted to veer Anakin away from the shuttle craft, to little avail. Evasive maneuvers were the only thing keeping Anakin from becoming a cloud of superheated gas himself. Criss-crossing through waves of enemy fire, Anakin knew that a mistake here would cost his life. But he had too many people counting on him. The Chancellor had called him the most gifted Jedi he ever met. To Obi Wan, he was his brother in arms. To Rex, a general worth respecting. To, his train of thoughts paused for but a moment, to Ahsoka he was the master that looked out for her, no matter what.
And most of all, the beloved husband of a certain senator from Naboo.
Artoo didn't have to inform Anakin about the missile locks that were closing on his ship. His body tensed as he banked toward a Munificent-class frigate, looking at his readout and recognizing that the missiles were fired and gaining on him. He flew straight towards the bridge of the frigate, firing his twin cannons at the viewscreen. The attack was meant to distract the droids for precious few seconds. The missiles were not programmed to veer away from their target once locked. Just before colliding with the bridge, Anakin spun into a series of rolls. The missiles slammed into the hull of the frigate and eventually the shields were once more overwhelmed. The frigates used here were unusually cheap, Anakin thought. Gunray doesn't seem to keen on working his way to victory. Rolling across one side of the frigate to the other, the missiles found purchase and blasted through hull plating. By the time Anakin had flown away from the frigate, it was little more than a burning wreck.
"Bravo, Skywalker." Dodonna spoke on the comm set. "We can take care of the rest."
"Understood, commander." Anakin replied, eyeing his astromech. When the droid chirped a remark at Anakin, the man grinned widely for what felt like the first time in months. "
"Told you spinning was a good trick."
With that, Anakin found himself joined by many squadrons of V-wings in addition to the four ARC-170s from earlier. Now was the hard part. Disabling the shuttles before they reached their destination. The V-wings were able to keep maximum speed with Anakin without strain, though the ARC-170s didn't fall far behind. Together they made a desperate push for the shuttles. Vulture droid starfighters were clipped by laserfire and dogfights ensued. Once more victory was within reach. The shuttles had gained great distance from where they last were but they were still outside the safety of the Lucrehulks and they couldn't outrun the fighters indefinitely. And with nearly every starfighter assisting Anakin, this siege couldn't fail.
Anakin was closing the gap when a distress call came through.
"General Skywalker" Yularen called. "Hyena droid bombers have been deployed and are racing towards us. We need fighter support."
"Negative, admiral" Anakin barked. "We nearly have Gunray."
"Skywalker, we need help!" Yularen barked back.
Anakin grimaced, the smile he once war burning away. It was as if the force itself was preventing Gunray from being punished for his crimes. Anakin found one barrier after another as he navigated a maze of deception and trials. Anakin would have none of it. He did his best to concentrate on the moment and pushed forward. Just a few hundred meters. He was about to begin a strafe run when he saw what Yularen was warning him about. Hundreds of bombers were deployed against the fleet of Republic warships. Dodonna had managed to begin fleet combat with the Lucrehulk, but the other Venators were not in optimal range. Recognizing the risk to the fleet, Anakin finally relented and ordered the squadrons to retreat.
Not ready to give up quite yet, he pushed forward. He scored some glancing shots at the Sheathipede-class shuttles, weaving between them. Trying to focus on Gunray's presence. His memories returned to Geonosis, to the "trial" that was conducted against him and Senator Amidala. Thoughts of anger were flashing on his mind when he saw him. Flying just in front of one of the shuttlecraft, his eyes met Gunray's for a single second. Anakin's cockpit aligned with Gunray's viewport at the perfect angle. Anakin attempted to wheel around and disable his shuttle but he was forced to veer hard to the right when he nearly collided with more shuttles. Cursing under his breath, Anakin desperately tried to lock onto Gunray's ship. However, all he found were an unrelenting volley of turbolaser cannons from a nearby Lucrehulk.
Anakin was stubborn and brave but he wasn't an idiot. He knew when he had no options but to retreat. As a Jedi, he had since learned to recognize when he was beaten. Banking away, hundreds of starfighters flew not towards him but to the Republic warships that were being assaulted.
He swore to himself that this wouldn't be the end of Gunray. They would meet again, and when they did, Gunray would face the consequences of his actions. For now, Anakin would save his allies from certain defeat.
In the shipping room, the sliding doors were still cycling-striking the punctured shipping container, retracting, attempting to close once more. Battle droids were still entering with each parting of the doors, and spores were still wafting through the air. Not much had changed, except within Plo Koon, who felt as if he had downed three bottles of Whyren's Reserve. Except, in addition to having dull senses, Plo Koon's lungs were continuously burning with each inhalation. He could only hold his breath for so long before his body demanded replenishment.
Bleary-eyed but lucid, tipsy but sure-footed, weary but attentive, Plo Koon seemed to be the sum of all contrasts. More or less rooted in place, he swayed, wobbled, tottered, and reeled, evading or parrying an almost unremitting current of blaster bolts. His singed and burned Jedi battle armor demonstrated all the near hits, but the floor-heaped with droids, whole and in parts, bodies sparking and limbs twitching-spoke to the accuracy of his deflections. The pain fueled his Shien stance more so than ever before, a feat that seemed completely impossible to an observer.
He felt at times as if he were merely holding the lightsaber and letting it do all the work. In one hand, in both, it made no difference. Other times he was able to anticipate the bolts, twist himself aside at the last instant, and allow the walls and floor to handle the ricochets.
He didn't have a moment to congratulate himself on the skill of his returns; keep defending or die.
He was in the Force, to be sure, but deep in some other zone as well, giddy with astonishment, as the world unfolded in slow motion. It was both horrifically terrifying and devilishly intoxicating to the Kel Dor Jedi Master. Hours of training had prepared him as best they could, but now it was up to Plo Koon to do what was truly necessary. Calling on the force, a whirlwind was summoned around his body. His thoughts had since drifted to his home planet and his concentration was spent on recalling the exact composition of his homeworld's atmosphere. He had to be extra careful that this whirlwind was only around himself as these fumes were toxic to the clones. Even then, it didn't stop the pain, though it eased it enough for him to fight for what felt like days.
This is all he could do to keep going. It was pushing his body and his mind to the absolute limits.
Alerted by the clones that the air was saturated with spores, Vos had his rebreather in his mouth as he approached the room in which Plo Koon had held his own against better than fifty droids, all of which lay scattered about the room.
A weaving, shuffling, staggering Plo Koon, who was shielded by a whirlwind of glowing vapors, was dealing with the last of them when Vos entered.
When the final droid collapsed, Plo Koon aimed the blade of his lightsaber casually toward the floor and stood swaying in place, breathing in pained gasps. This scenario of extremely puculiar circumstances allowed for him to be almost grinning while suffering from stress and exertion. His mind was so dull and spent that he couldn't fully register who he was speaking to.
"Hello, Vos," he said happily. "Or is that you, little Soka? How are you?"
When Vos went to him, Plo Koon promptly collapsed in his arms and the vapor vanished. Holding his breath as a precaution, Vos deactivated Plo Koon's blade and put him to rest against the wall. The Kel Dor stood motionless and seemed to be holding his breath. Vos didn't know how long this had gone on for and couldn't imagine how taxing this was.
Then he carried him from the room to where Wolfe, Comet and several clones were waiting, some with their helmets removed. They have been trained to repair and even craft the masks for Kel Dors should the need ever arise. This is the first time they ever had to worry about this in combat. Fortunately, instinct took over and Wolfe knew what steps to take. When Vos was given the patched breathing piece, it appeared almost good as new. Applying it to the Kel Dor, Plo Koon took several deep breaths followed by bits of coughing.
"Exactly what lightsaber form were you using back there, Master?" Vos asked when Plo Koon had come around, some semblance of his stamina returned.
"Form?"
"More the absence of it." Vos laughed shortly . "If only Mace, Kit, or Shaak Ti could have seen you."
Plo Koon blinked in confusion and glanced around at the carnage of droids in the shipping area. "We did this?" he said to Wolfe.
"You did most of it, General" Wolfe replied. "We lost Boost and they were about to overwhelm us. I almost thought we were going to lose you."
Plo Koon regarded Wolfe and Vos in confusion and lowered his head in deep thought.
"I'll explain later," Vos said.
Plo Koon ran his hand over his breathing apparatus, ensuring it was securely installed. Then, as if just remembering, said: "Gunray! Did you get him?"
Vos's shoulders dropped. "The entire entourage escaped the palace. General Skywalker was in pursuit but we've yet to receive an update."
Plo Koon mulled it over for a moment. "You could have gone after them. No one would have stopped you."
Vos shrugged. "And leave you? That doesn't seem very Jedi-like." He paused, then added: "Of course, if I'd known you'd become master of a new lightsaber form…"
Plo Koon's eyebrows rose somewhat.
"Skywalker will succeed. They'll be taken in orbit."
"Maybe."
"If not, there'll be other times, Vos. We'll see to it after coming this far."
Vos nodded. "I know that, Plo."As the two began to walk towards the wreckage, Vos asked him a question."You mentioned someone, when you were still in a haze. You called me Little Soka."
Plo Koon stopped in his tracks and his lightsaber nearly fell from his hands. He took a step back and faced Vos, this time with a blank expression that revealed nothing.
"Someone you know?" Vos asked with a questioning look.
"Someone I knew." Plo Koon said at last. "Someone who I couldn't save."
Plo Koon was about to add something more when more clones stepped from a nearby turbolift and hurried over to them. "General Plo, General Vos we've found something of interest among the equipment the Neimoidians left behind."