Episode 2: Into the Jaw of the Enemy

The hospital aboard the Venator Class Star Destroyer "Executor" was packed beyond its intended capacity with clone troopers wounded from the previous engagements on Rattatak a few cycles ago. The campaign had been short but brutal with tens of thousands of casualties with more than 70% of them being troops under General Krell's command. The medical staff were overtaxed but still continued to struggle to keep their patients afloat with dogged determination. There were so many wounded that they were literally spilling out of the hospital ward and into the surrounding rooms and hallways, bound to bed-rest on gurneys set down on the floor.

Lost in the maze of groaning clone troopers and exhausted medics a tiny cloaked figure sat curled against the wall, an orange tinted hand resting on a trooper's arm. The trooper wore a conflicted expression as he spoke in a cautious and overly formal whisper, his tone sounding almost pleading.

"Thank you Commander, but really… I was only doing my job." The trooper tried, beseeching the small cloaked girl unconsciously kneading his arm with slender fingers. Much to his dismay the girl firmly shook her head, sending her hood fluttering around her montrals.

"No." The girl refuted plainly. "Jax, you…" The girl's eyes trailed to the trooper's abdomen, or rather what was left of it. A wide sterile bandage was the only thing preventing his insides from becoming outsides, though there was a noticeable dip where his right flank had been evaporated by a lucky AAT cannonshot tearing through his fighter cockpit.

"It's fine Commander. I'm still alive, right Sir?" Though he tried to put on a brave smile the girl felt the arm under her hand tremble.

"Right…"

Suddenly the cloaked girl's back arched as if she were in pain, a sickly jolt squelching through her Force-bond as if someone had shoved a Sand-Slug down her throat. Choking down her fear the girl swallowed thickly to rid herself of the phantom sensation ghosting down her neck and squared her shoulders.

"I… I gotta go Jax. Master Krell is looking for me." The girl said in a faint voice. The clone frowned, clearly seeing the distress in the girl's expression but he felt utterly helpless.

The girl rose slowly, reluctantly as if she had just been ordered to march to her own execution. As the passed Jax grabbed her wrist, halting her for a moment.

"Command…" The trooper's expression broke a little seeing the fear in the girl's wide blue eyes. "...Ashoka," He corrected himself. The girl flinched at the sound of her name, but at least a little more life seemed to return to her fearful eyes. "Good luck." Jax said.

A small, albeit shaky smirk pulled at the edges of Ashoka's lips. "I don't need luck." She gently pulled her arm free and Jax let her go, still uneasy but reassured that his commander still has some fight and fire in her.

Ahsoka's weak show of confidence crumbled a few steps down the hall, the trembling in her legs worsened and her hands grew cold and clammy. Taking a deep breath Ahsoka drew on her lessons as a youngling in the Jedi Temple and tried to calm her mind, bleeding her roiling emotions out into the force, with mixed results... She was never very good at letting go.

With a rigid gaunt she found her way to the command bridge, the apprehension in her chest rising with every reluctant step. The command bridge airlock unsealed with a heavy thud and slid apart. Waiting behind them stood the towering General Krell scowling down at her with wrath in his eyes.

"Apprentice," Master Krell ground out between clenched teeth. Despite her own rebellious glare Ahsoka flinched from the venom in her Master's voice. "Ready your fighter. I will have you lead your quadron into battle."

Terror and doubt lurched up Ahsoka's throat. Before she could think to stop herself she exclaimed. "But M-Master I just lost almost my whole Squadron on Rattatak! I-I-I can't… I…"

Her quaking voice trailed to a whimper as the towering four-armed Jedi Master drew up to his full height, easily overshadowing his frail Apprentice. Taking no small amount of vindicated pleasure from the girl's horrified expression Krell brought his head down until they were eye to eye. He reached inside her hood with one arm and almost lovingly caressed the Togruta girl's hard montral, his touch sending terrified shivers of revulsion down the girl's body.

"Now, now my young Apprentice," Krell cooed, the sound akin to sandpaper over rusted steel. "Heed no more of your attention for these animals. Clones are a tool of war, nothing more."

General Krell half hoped the rebellious Togruta to speak up on the clones' behalf like she had done in the past. This time though she swallowed her protests and tried to pull away from his touch. Since Krell had finally "broken her in" during one of their private training sessions however the weak little rat had put up less and less resistance as time wore on.

Krell's frog-like lips curled into a snarl. How boring…

Krell snorted and cruelly curled his fingers into the young Togruta's head-horn, grinning at the agony on his apprentice's face. Ahsoka bit back a cry of pain and fought to keep her knees from buckling beneath her, struggling to avoid showing weakness in front of her hated master and the audience of bridge officers watching her anguish.

Krell reveled in the fear and helpless rage that poured from this pathetic excuse for a padawan Yoda had thrust upon him as she struggled in his grasp. So absorbed was he in his musings that it wasn't until one of the several dozen witnesses aboard the bridge with him coughed that he realized that he was being watched.

His mood ruined General Krell sneered down at his apprentice and whipped her head away with the intent on throwing her to the ground. Somehow the nimble and defiant girl spun with his sudden throw and kept her feet, although on shaky legs. Though a small victory Ahsoka felt a petty but very thorough satisfaction at the incoherent rage overtaking her master's face.

With barely contained murder in his beady eyes Krell snarled through his teeth, "Get. to. your. fighter."

Ahsoka didn't need to be told twice as she swiftly left the bridge amidst every eye in the room on her retreating figure. As the blast doors slid open a sudden second wind of courage rose in her breast, a feeling she had forgotten.

She couldn't help herself and looked over her shoulder at the seething Baselisk and remarked coyly, " Aren't you going to wish me luck, Master?" without meaning to, she spat his title with a venom that even surprised herself.

This only served to further enrage the four-armed General as he bellowed back, "GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!"

Ahsoka laughed a bit hysterically as she made her escape from the bridge to her fighter in the hangar below, knowing full-well that she could very well be running straight to her death. She almost hoped she did, because if she did somehow manage to survive this battle Ahsoka didn't really know what she was going to do when she faced her Master when this was all over...

Blowing up Vulture Droids is a lot like working on a speeder Anakin realized. Fix one problem and a dozen more take its place. Still he lives for the thrill of battle and mechanic work is his first love.

Am I actually a masochist?

Anakin chuckled dryly to himself as he feathered the trigger, his laser cannons spitting out a short staggered burst of green plasma that ripped through a wing of Vulture Droids without a single bolt going wide.

Swinging right to avoid the trio of balls of fire and shrapnel Anakin dove back through the Separatist formation, his senses alight in the force, guiding him through the chaotic storm of enemy and friendly laser fire alike. It seemed as if he were untouchable, unconcerned with the ferocious space battle as he danced among deadly machines of war and dying men.

A pair of Vulture Droids cornered an N-1 and slagged the yellow starfighter under a hail of angry red laser-fire, a bolt burning a hole through the brave pilot's head. Breaking off their pursuit as what was left of their victim spattered against a Providence-Class dreadnought's shields the droids zeroed in on an oddly shaped gray Naboo starfighter tearing through a handful of Hyena bombers with unnatural accuracy.

Anakin sensed his new dance partners a breath before Artoo twittered a warning through his headset.

"Yeah, I see 'em. Let's so these bolts-for-brains how a real pilot flies!"

Flicking his N-2F sideways Anakin nudged his unpainted starfighter between a Munificent-Class Frigate's hull and external armor, clearing the gaps through the dura-steel support beams with effortless grace, causing his mindless pursuers to crash into their own frigate's superstructure.

Another laugh bubbled up from his chest as he fanned a bank of turrets with laser fire and cleared the frigate's maze of support beams just as the guns went up in flames, causing a beautiful chain reaction to nearly rip the Munificent-Class frigate in half in a glorious implosion of fire and shearing metal.

This is what Anakin lived to do, flying is his first true love, one that began as a slave child when he slipped into his podracer and imagined a galaxy of stars before him instead of harsh sands.

A wizen voice crackled over his headset, drawing him from his elation.

[This is Captain Antilles of LOD Array 13. All surviving defenders in sector 145-Alpha-30 through 150-Delta-60 fall back to my position for regroup.]

Anakin had been keeping one eye on the tiny defense station as the invading Separatist armada spread out and closed in around the planet. The LOD array was only equipped to repel small pirate craft, not militarized frigates and larger destroyers. Even a single Munificent-Class Frigate from the hundred-odd number in the attacking fleet carried enough armament to outgun the small station's meager defenses. The Array's only advantage was range and accuracy, the weapon platform's semi-stationary position in orbit allowed the cannons to nail nimble droid fighters with relative ease, but the sheer number of enemy fighters overwhelmed what few numbers they had.

LOD Array 13's guns quickened their barrage against the oncoming swarm pursuing the fleeing pilots. Green lasers seasoned with occasional blue ion bolts lit up the darkness of space like a shower of falling stars. The swarm of droid fighters crumpled, Hyena bombers detonated in fiery spirals of plasma and shrapnel as vulture droids had their wings clipped and sent spinning wildly into the void, often times crashing into one another before imploding. Anakin threw his Starfighter's nose around and came to a stop just outside the command bridge topping on the station. He watched the last of the N-1's limp behind the station, a huge bite taken out of its left thruster. The N-1's compromised engine puked flaming ozone before it gave a final valiant sputtering heave to get its pilot to safety before dying, the hull free floating until a recovery crew was dispatched to retrieve it.

A gut-wrenching few dozen of the original several hundred N-1's that had first entered the fray escaped from the fight, the vast majority of the survivors had scorch marks marring their elegant yellow frames and more than a few were belching smoke and fire. Anakin made a quick head-count and felt the bottom of his stomach drop out.

Less than fifty pilots in outdated flying showpieces masquerading as starfighters in varying degrees of debilitating damage against a horde of planet-slagging warships and an army of soulless killer robots. Fantastic.

Anakin knew defending Naboo from orbit was a foolish endeavor. Their only hope was to grind the CIS's momentum to a halt by forcing the droid army into a war of attrition on the surface. For them to have any chance of winning was to buy their forces on the ground enough time to shore up their defenses.

His mind made up Anakin punched in a private frequency on the comms unit and keyed his headset. The line crackled for a moment then Captain Antilles' strong and aged baritone rumbled over the airwaves.

[This line is for diplomatic emergencies only. Identify yourself by name and station.]

Smirking to himself the former Jedi answered. "This is Anakin Skywalker and my station is currently floating in a prototype starfighter just outside your viewport watching our collective doom heading straight for us."

Anakin bit back a grin as the frizzled Captain on the other end blistered, [This is no time for jokes young man-!] The Captain's sudden pause was more audible then his shouting. [Wait, Skywalker? As in Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, the Hero of the Republic?]

Anakin's grin vanished like smoke as a feeling akin to having a bucket of cold water dumped over his head sobered him right up. How did this random captain know who he is?

I have a bad feeling about this...

"I'm not a Je-! Wait, back up. I'm no "hero" of anybody! Where did you hear about me?"

[From the Grand Army of the Republic's recruitment reels, Master Jedi. Your name is everywhere. Did you not know?]

Anakin scowled. It seems he wasn't as through with the Republic or the Jedi Order as he had thought.

"Speaking of the Republic. When can we expect reinforcements from them?"

[... About that. There are no reinforcements.]

"...What?' Anakin felt as if the Captain had reached through his headset and gut-punched him. "Why?!"

[Within minutes upon arrival the Seppies had bombed and disabled our deep-space transmitters. We are cut off until we can relay a message through other channels. Best case scenario, the republic finds out in three cycles and we get reinforcements in a week's time.]

"Sithspit…" He hissed to himself before addressing the Captain. "Captain Antilles, we are on our last legs out here. As it stands we won't last more than a few minutes, half an hour at best before we are slaughtered to a man. I suggest a surgical strike against the enemy command ship attacking this Sector to disrupt their advance then retreat to the surface."

[Agreed Master Jedi.] Anakin's scowl darkened at the Captain's address, the title a nasty reminder of what he had thought he had finally gotten away from. Betrayal stabbed at his heart over Obi-Wan keeping this from him. He loved his friend though, he had to have had a good reason...

Captain Antilles was blissfully unaware as he continued, [You wish to lead this surgical strike I take it?]

Anakin shook himself from his darker thoughts and agreed. "Yes I do. I will only bring a squadron of five undamaged fighters with me while anyone else that is still combat-worthy harrasses the enemy's forward line."

[Sounds like a plan Master Jedi. I actually have a bit of good news. If you can keep those clankers busy for long enough a fresh wave of N-1's are flying up from the surface to aid in the orbital defense. Do you think you can manage it?]

Anakin felt a small amount of weight lift from his shoulders. The more of the enemy they can destroy up in orbit means the less resources the Droid Army can utilize on their assault on the ground.

"However long you need Captain, consider it doubled. Skywalker out."

Anakin switched his frequency back to Sector command and sat back in his seat as Captain Antilles' voice droned in his ear, organizing the surviving pilots into their new squadrons and ordering the critically damaged fighters that can't make the trip down to the surface to dock on the station for stop-gap repairs. All the while Array 13's guns thundered in a rapid cadence, splashing green and blue light across the former Jedi's weary face.

Despite their efforts though Anakin knew that they were doing little to stem the tide of Separatist Fighters descending on Naboo's near-defenseless populace. Then his thoughts turned to Padme and he found himself breathless, suffocated with fear at the thought of her on the other side of the world ground into bloody chunks by a bomb, or a lucky laser reducing her to ash, or being crushed by fall rubble, or, or~!

Artoo twittered in concern, yanking Anakin back from the brink of his downward spiral. Anakin choked down the neausiating fear and forced out a weak smile. "Thanks little buddy. Remind me to give you a nice oil bath next time we don't have an army of your angry cousins breathing down our necks." The hardy and loyal astromech happily squawked his approval and then beeped, telling him to get a move on.

Anakin chuckled at his co-pilot's snark, the familiar banter with his mechanical friend easing the turmoil in his heart. The former Jedi's short reprieve was interrupted when he heard a young comms officer say his name.

[Master Skywalker, I got three fresh pilots from the R&D department asking for you. You know them?]

Anakin felt an eyebrow raise on its own accord in surprise, a habit he picked up from Obi-Wan when the older man wished to convey his disapproval and irritation… or when he felt the need to be particularly annoying.

"Yes I know them. Patch them through."

The Comms Officer did so without another word and Anakin snatched his headset off his head with a hiss of pain. Even with the headset held at arm's length he could still clearly hear three familiar voices bickering over the channel like chittering porgs fighting over a shiny.

[Why do I gotta come too? I'm just a racer! C'mon Conner, you know I ain't cut out for this!] A Feminine voice whined.

A deeper, older male answered with a teasing tone, [Aela, you got a crash course in basic combat maneuvers, same as everyone else flying for R&D. Quit yer belly-achin'. 'Asides, Skywalker had flown one of these into combat without a lick of training as a ten-year-old and he was the one who killed the droid command ship during the Trade Fed's blockade. You ain't got no excuse!]

Aela groaned in defeat sparking Conner and one other, a gungan by his distinct yuk-yuking sound, to break out into laughter.

[Well, maybe there's a bright side to this?] Aela asked with a tiny glimmer of hope. [Maybe it's not as bad as we think and we just snatch up the good ol' Master Jedi and we can NOT fly straight into an armada of killer droids and instead go home?]

Anakin watched out of his viewport as three N-1's broke from the atmosphere. Cracking a grin he keyed his mic, "Or how about we DO fly straight into an armada of killer droids and boot them in the motivator instead?"

[Anakin!] Aela barked. The female bothan sounded relieved, the terror that sharpened the edge of her voice relaxed a touch.

[Itsa good to hear that yousa alive Mastah Jedi.] Gen-Dan greeted.

"Was there any doubt?" Anakin laughed.

[Well…] Conner drew out the 'L' as he pondered the question. [Considering the last time Droids were on Naboo I was more expecting to see you flying down hallways again.]

"That was one time!" Anakin exclaimed, "Besides, it all worked out then. Right?"

[Can we expect a repeat performance?] Conner asked.

"Maybe." Anakin replied coyly. "It depends on how good your flying is."

Anakin saw the N-1 on the right jerk to the right suddenly before correcting itself. [Wut?] Aela squeaked.

[It means we are comin' with him to zorch some space-clankers.] Conner said, leading the trio to a stop a few dozen yards from Anakin's Starfighter. He could see the older human in his pilot helmet throw him a salute and say, [Ain't that right Master Jedi?]

"That's Gold Leader to you Gold 1." Anakin threw back. "Gen-Dan, You're Gold 2. Aela, Gold 3. We are getting two more to our number then once Captain Antilles gives the green light we're throwing a Hail Mary and a dozen proton torpedoes down the Droid Commander's throat. Any questions?"

[Why am I a part of this plan?] Aela asked. [I'm not a fighter pilot, I'm just a space-racer!]

"Take a look around you Aela." Anakin replied with a little more heat than he had intended to the smoking N-1 hulls floating around them. "You are one of the only ones left who can still fly straight, let alone run combat maneuvers blasting droids." The Bothan swallowed audibly over the channel but held her peace. Anakin made eye-contact with her through their windshields and Aela gave him a tiny nod. She's still terrified but she's on board with the plan. It would have to be enough.

"Any other questions?"

[Just one.] Conner piped up. [No-holds-barred brass-balls-to-the-wall full-throttle don't-let-go-of-the-trigger-even-after-your-spaced-and-one-with-the-force Maximum Effort?]

"Damn straight." Anakin replied. His comms console chirped, showing two more undamaged N-1's joining his squadron.

"Gold Squadron, Roll-call and fall in." As he half-listened to the voices over the comm channel Anakin wheeled his N-2F and aimed his star-fighter right at the heart of the approaching armada as Aela, Conner, Gen-Dan, and the other two pilots fell into an arrowhead formation behind him. Once everyone was in place Anakin keyed over to Captain Antilles' channel.

"Captain, we are ready and waiting."

[You're green to go Master Skywalker. Good Hunting and May the Force be With You.]

"And you too Captain. Skywalker out."

Switching channels Anakin rallied his Squadron with a fire in his tone and the Force surging wildly in his heart.

"Let's go Ladies! Follow me! For Naboo! For the Republic!"

[For Naboo! For the Republic!] Even Artoo Squawked his own battlecry, adding to Gold Squadron's fervor.

A maniacal grin split unbidden across Anakin's face as he gunned the throttle, leading the charge down the center of the Separatist formation as scores of tiny yellow Starfighters peeled off behind him.

They were tiny pinpricks in the darkness, riding against giant monsters from the shadows of the void.

Anakin felt his hackles raise as the warships grew larger and larger, but still even when he knew they were in range of their cannons the droids did not open fire. The tension buzzed in the air, thick enough to cut with a vibro-blade as the charging pilots waited for the first shot they knew was coming.

Then a sudden flash of red from a frigate's bow gun, then the star-studded sky was tinged fiery crimson and droid fighters poured from their hangars and descended upon the brave Naboo pilots like a wave upon a shore.

Anakin ignored all of this as he slammed the accelerator until the thrusters were in the red, his bow aimed straight at the ornate Providence-Class Dreadnought in the rear of the formation. The rest of Gold Squadron did the same, their guns singing and thrusters howling a vicious tune as they willingly followed the Former Jedi as he led them in a dance of death straight into the jaws of the enemy.