The First Contact War

by 1Ragnarok1

In 2621 a Galactic Republic vessel is found in the Orion Arm, this springboards the United Earth Government into a galaxy at the start of the Clone Wars. A war that will test the 2nd UEG Expeditionary Force as well as the UEG finding out where it fits in this new galaxy, and their new neighbours.

28. Scars

The First Contact War

Chapter 28

Scars

"After a traumatic experience, the human system of self-preservation seems to go on permanent overload, as if the danger might return at any moment."

2623 July 10th Earth Standard Calendar, LT. Luke Sparrow, Mandalor.

The explosions ripped Luke from his sleep. He sat up with a startled cry, white shirt clinging to his back with sweat while a tremor wracked his body. With a groan, he raised his hands to cover his ears as the whistling filled them, the screams and gunfire. It never ended and he doubt it ever would. He remembered with a shiver the last memory of that reoccurring nightmare, 'Dar'manda'.

"Every fucking morning." he swore bitterly to himself, collapsing back down onto the bed with a heavy sigh. His body still shook slightly and he felt sick with the pain sitting up had caused to his hip. Luke lowered his hands and let them rest atop the feather pillow, eyes clenching shut. Would the sights, sounds and smells of war or… that… cell, ever leave him? He didn't think so.

The bedroom door clattered open and Luke's instincts kicked in instantly as his hand snapped to his hip for a gun, but of course, there was nothing there.

"Luke?" his Tracinya asked, worry in her eyes as she stood in the doorway with her face as pale as a sheet at the sight of him frozen at the sight of her.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't think..." Luke felt guilty when tears filled those violet eyes of hers and he relaxed, shaking his head, making sure to avoid looking directly at her.

"It's okay" he told her gruffly, yanking the covers up over himself, shame trickling through his veins like sand in an hourglass; if he'd had a gun, he would have shot his own squad mate without a pause for thought. It horrified him. War changed a man, and not for the best.

Tracinya shifted slightly as if to step closer, but didn't – he'd been yelling for her to go away since he'd come home four days ago. They had been the most awkward four days of Luke's life. He'd rather be back out in the field with a gun in his hand and an enemy dead before him than faced with his sobbing squad mate who had been quite inconsolable at first.

"Do you... want something to eat? I was going to make some breakfast" she asked hesitantly, hoping he'd start to eat something at long last.

"No" Luke told her, voice softer than before. His heart pounded in his chest, the shells still whistling loudly inside his ears even now. "I just want... to be alone." He turned his head away and sighed, tugging the covers even higher over himself with his back facing her. When Luke heard the door shut, he rolled onto his back and lay there staring up at the ceiling for so long he lost track of time while his body throbbed painfully.

Fuck the world. Fuck everything.

He didn't know how the hell he was going to cope. How could he? The life he knew before, the life he loved and was comfortable with had been shattered nearly beyond repair.

25031 Galactic Standard Calendar, Tracinya Vizla, Apartment in the upper wards Mandalor

Tracinya glumly walked down the stairs. It had been a week since Luke had been taken out of the Bacta tank and had woken up. He had been extremely jumpy at first, lashing out at doctors when they had tried to help, but after two days he had calmed down. He had healed rapidly, physically, at least. He was already able to run, but his knee still played up from time to time. The scars that covered his body had faded. Some of the deeper scars along his arm and back were still visible and likely to be permanent. His hand was almost fully recovered from its broken fingers, but still needed another week to fully heal.

He had been discharged from the hospital a couple days later and had been staying at her family's residence for the time being. In that time he had only left his room to eat, or go on runs. Aside from interactions between her and her parents he kept interactions with the world and the people in it to a minimum. He seemed distant. Well… more distant than usual. He had woken up nearly every morning screaming and had refused to talk about why. She assumed, like her father and mother had, it was due to the experiences he endured under the sadist Cassuis Varad.

Entering the kitchen, she saw her father sitting at the table looking at the news on his data-pad. He looked up at her.

"Well?"

"He's not coming down."

"He's been up there for four days now, he has hardly eaten anything. It's not healthy." Her mother said walking over and taking a seat at the table.

"I know but he keeps on rejecting each attempt I make at getting out of that room."

Tracinya's ears picked up the nose of someone coming down the stairs. Seeing as only four people were in the apartment and three of them were downstairs, that left Luke. Maybe he had finally decided to come downstairs and talk. There wasn't a way of avoiding it, the apartment was compact. The front door was part of the kitchen with a living room next door and the stairs on the right-hand side of the room opposite the living room. Upstairs consisted of a bathroom and three bedrooms.

Luke appeared at the base of the stairs dressed in a light grey shirt and dark grey tracksuit. He seemed alright if a bit tense. As if ready to leap into action in a moment's notice. His eyes also seemed distant, as if he wasn't entirely here, and where scanning the room.

"Good Moring Mr. Sparrow, how was your night?"

"It was fine, ma'am."

"Please, call me Lexie or Misses Vizsla at the least."

"Yes ma'a-, I mean, Misses Vizsla."

"Are you going out?" Tracinya asked.

"Yes, for a run and some light exercise."

"You should be taking it easy. You have just been…" Tracinya paused, trying to find the right choice of words, "Injured."

"I'm fine. I can handle some light exercises. I can't afford to get out of shape."

"Do you at least want any breakfast before you go?" her father asked.

"No thank you Sir." Luke said before putting on some running shoes and walking out the door.

"Is he going to be alright?" Her mother asked.

"He's a hardened combat veteran, he'll be fine."

"That's not what your mother meant. Even I noticed it as I'm sure you did. He was tensed up, ready for the slightest sign of hostility to spring into action. Assessing the room for weapons, us for strengths and weaknesses and quick escape routes. He still in combat mode. And while that is fine in the field. In peacetime or off the battlefield, when he's not fighting. He is not going to react well to aggression or perceived aggression. And he won't be gentle."

2623 July 10th Earth Standard Calendar, LT. Luke Sparrow, Mandalor.

Luke had been out jogging for two hours now, he had left the apartment the Vizsla's had owned and had been running non-stop since. Out of the corner of his eye he spied a small park. seeing no-one was there, he decided to take a quick break.

The park had a stone path that wound through the park. There were a plethora of plants, bushes and trees of various colours that he didn't recognize, that dotted the park. The vegetation was so thick in places that it obscured parts of the Outer wall of the city and the two buildings that squeezed the park on both sides. There was a small intricate fountain in the middle of the park with a statue of some Mandalorian warrior on top. Likely a commemoration to some part of their history or a fallen warrior.

He spotted a wooden bench tucked away on the far right of the park. It was shaded by a tall tree and half hidden by two bushes. He walked over and sat down on it. The old bench creaking in protest to his weight. He leaned back against it, he looked over at the city opposite it. Speeders used the invisible aerial highways that stilled seemed alien to him, in the O.A.G. they still used wheeled vehicles, albeit they were A.I. controlled for the most part. The lights off the buildings that seem to rise from the darkness below into the light above seemed just like the cities back home though. But from where he sat, the noises were distant and dulled. It was… peaceful. It felt… strange. He couldn't remember the last time he had just sat back and relaxed. The peace. The relative quite. The calm. It felt unnatural, uncomfortable even. He was used to combat, action. Constant noise bombarding him. Soldiers crying out for a medic. The sound of gunfire and artillery shells. The engines of a Pelican dropship or a tank. Giving and taking orders. But now, he had a few days until the phycologist interrogated him on his mental state. If he passed that, he'd be on his way to the battlefield of Umbara with Tracinya by the end of next week.

But what to do until then. He had two days until the test. A day until the results came back in. Assuming he passed a day for transportation arrangements to be made then four days to gear up until he was sent to Umbara. But what to do in the time between then and now. Clean his weapons, he didn't have any, or his armour. There was no base to protect or positions that need to be protected or patrolled. What was he supposed to do. He was only allowed to do light exercises for now but he knew he could do more. He was designed to.

He needed a routine. Something, anything. So long as he didn't have to think or reflect on past decisions or… events.

No! your not a POW anymore. Your alive and free. He can't hurt you or anyone anymore. The Mandalorian Special Forces saw to that. He reminded himself. Looking around again to properly gage his surroundings, he noticed that the roof of that adjacent three-story building was perfect for a sniper, how the narrow street was ideal for an ambush. That you could- Stop it. This is Mandalor, the war isn't here.

Reaching into his tracksuit pocket he pulled out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. Pulling a cigarette out, he held it between his thumb, middle and forefinger. The smell of tobacco reached his nose as he lit it. Placing it in his mouth briefly, taking a puff, before he removed it a few seconds later. He felt calmer than he had before.

"You bitch! You'll pay for that!" Luke turned his head and saw a tall, muscled man clutching a broken bleeding nose, the blood running down his face. A young woman was running away from him and two obvious goons were chasing her. The woman turned into the park, not realizing it was a dead end. The two goons close on her tail. Luke followed them with his eyes as they pursued her over to the far left of the park near where he was sitting. Luke placed the cigarette in the left of his mouth, teeth keeping it in place as he inhaled once more and stood up.

By this point the woman had been cornered and her back was literally against the wall, the two men surrounded her. Luke casually walked up behind the left goon. Tall, muscled, no visible sign of armour underneath shirt, likely to rely on boxer or brawler style CQC techniques. He reached out with his arm and tapped the goon on the shoulder.

"What! Can't you see-" was as far as the man got as Luke threw a haymaker that connected with the man's jaw, dislocating it. Before the man could react, Luke threw another punch at the man's head. His fist connected again and the man went down with a thud.

The man's comrade recovered from his shock and threw a wild swing at Luke with his right arm. Luke ducked under the swing whilst grabbing the man's arm. He twisted the arm using the momentum of the swing to get the elbow facing up. He brought his free arm's elbow down. Hard. The man's arm broke with a sickening snap and the man cried out in pain. His arm bent unnaturally. The man started to go into shock and hyperventilate whilst crying out in pain as Luke released his grip. Luke placed him in a choke hold, the man struggling in vain to escape, working limb flailing at Luke. Luke waited until the man passed out before releasing the hold and let the man fall to the ground.

"Thanks for the assist, but I had everything under control." The woman spoke with a thick South African accent. How does she even have that accent, it doesn't make sense. I just… Fuck it, I'm done questioning how much the galaxy has in common with us, Luke thought, pulling out another cigarette.

A brief glance at her was all his mind needed to analyse her. Tall, thin, brown hair down to the small of her back, some visible muscle, tense and analysing the threat level he posed to her.

"You Mandalorians are good in a fight." She continued.

"They are, but I'm not a Mandalroian."

"Then who are you?"

"Luke Sparrow, Lieutenant, O.A.G. SPECWAR."

The room was cold, so cold… his leg hurt, his arms too and so did his entire body… pain... so much pain…

"Lieutenant, Luke Sparrow, B-55-850-999."

"Hello! You okay? You spaced out for a moment there." She said as Luke's mind realized where he was again.

"I'm fine… just… memories."

"Right… As I was saying, I'm Jaina Mered. So your part of the O.A.D.F."

"Yes, been five years now."

"That makes you a year older than me as from what little I know, you must have joined at eighteen."

"Correct. So, what did these men want with you?"

"They were pressing me for money. My father is ill so to buy medication, I… I had to go to them, we are a poor family. It was the only way. I hadn't been able to pay them back. So , they threatened to kill me, or worse… If you hadn't shown up… then…" She said, appearing to be on the verge of tears. Closing herself in as to appear more vulnerable as possible. Luke gave her a quick once over with his eyes. He spotted a slight, dagger shaped bulge in her left boot. He noticed in her jackets inside pocket the unmistakable outline of blaster pistol cartridges. So she has a hidden blade and at least one blaster.

"I suppose it would be seeing as you managed to afford a DL-18 or a Westar 35 pistol. Plus the hidden blade in your boot."

"For my… own protection?" She said with her voice pitching slightly higher toward the end. Luke simply raised an eyebrow.

"I think you can drop the act now, it's clear from weapons and your attire that your either a dealer of some kind or smuggler."

"Fine you got me. The Black Sun paid me to bring some Red Sand shipment to them. They thought they could kill me and get my ship and the Sand. I promise I've learnt my lesson and won't do it again. So if you let me go I'll be on may way."

"Fine."

"You sure, I'll make it worth your-. Wait, really? Just like that. Even though I'm a smuggler, a person regarded widely as a criminal."

"I'm injured as I'm sure you've noticed with the lack of weight I'm putting on my left leg. So a single kick would likely leave me out of action and you'll get away. Besides, I only saw a woman trying to help her sick father being harassed by some black sun thugs, no smuggler anywhere." Jaina grinned.

"Glad we came to a understanding. I got to go check on my ship, see ya around stud!" she said walking off. Luke took one last puff from the cigarette before spitting it out onto the ground and crushing it under his shoe. He probably needed to start heading back now. Besides, he had that psyche evaluation to pass to get back into combat. Where things felt normal.

25031 Galactic Standard Calendar, Tracinya Vizla,

Tracinya walked side by side with Luke. She was walking with him on the down the hall of the mental health hospital to meet with the psychologist who was 'sent' to look at Luke's metal state. It was around noon, near lunchtime. Since Luke's run two days ago, he'd become less tense and withdrawn. He'd interacted with her and her family more but he still spent most his time either in his room or exercising. He was like a machine with a strict routine, never stopping even though he had been told to take it easy. Her stomach rumbled. She hadn't eaten that morning, deciding to do some training herself. Now it was lunch and her stomach was demanding something to eat.

"If you're hungry we can stop somewhere and grab something to eat on the way back?"

"Sure, that sounds like a good idea."

"Here we are, room 446. Time to get this over with." Luke said as they came to a stop outside the room.

"You'll do fine. Just be honest with the doctor and everything will work out. I'll wait out here." Luke's only response to that was to sigh and knock on the door.

2623 July 12th Earth Standard Calendar, LT. Luke Sparrow, Mandalor.

"Come in." he heard from inside. Pushing the door open he entered a small room. A wooden desk was crammed in the right corner of a room with papers and files scattered all over it with a small lamp on the right most corner. The window on the far wall had the blinds down and closed, preventing people seeing into the room and blocking out the light. There were two chairs in the room and on top of one of them was Doctor Gavins. Doctor Gavins was a middle-aged woman in her late thirties. Her blonde hair reached down past her shoulder and sported glasses. She was also the designated ONI section III shrink assigned to the Praetorians from the Gen II's, Gen III's and his own Gen III.5's.

"Doctor." Luke greeted.

"Ahh, Lieutenant, good to see you again. How have you been since I last saw you?" she greeted warmly.

"Can we just get to the point of me being here." Luke said taking a seat at on spare chair.

"As always. Straight to the point with you. I know you don't like the small talk and the pleasantries. So then, let's get started. Do you have repeated, disturbing memories, thoughts, or images of a stressful military experience?"

"Some."

"Could you elaborate?"

"My recent time on Mandalore and Tarhassan."

"Have they affected you in anyway?"

"Personally? Or in my job?"

"Both."

"No effect on my job. No noticeable effect on my personal life."

"Any repeated, disturbing dreams of a stressful military experience?"

"None that spring to mind." Luke lied.

"Suddenly acting or feeling as if a stressful military experience were happening again, as if you were reliving it?"

"None."

"Have you had physical reactions, like heart pounding, trouble breathing, sweating, when something reminded you of a stressful experience?"

"No."

"Do you avoid thinking about or talking about a stressful military experience or avoiding having feelings related to it?"

"I was taught too." It would have been a compromised asset if I stopped to consider every action I was ordered to do and the morality of it I would lose effectiveness.

"Yes right, your training under the inni's. Are you avoiding activities or situations because they reminded you of a stressful experience?"

"No, I've found myself wanting to get back into the fight even more."

"Do you have trouble remembering important parts of a stressful combat situations?"

"None, I can recall most of my missions and combat."

"Any loss of interest in activities that you used to enjoy?"

"I'm not in combat so I couldn't answer." She frowned at his answer.

"Do you feel distant or cut off from other people?"

"No more so than usual."

"Do you feel emotionally numb or are unable to have loving feelings for those close to you?"

Luke merely raised an eyebrow.

"Right, yes. Praetorian. Silly question." Doctor Gavins said exasperatedly.

"Are you feeling as if your future will somehow be cut short? Outside you being a soldier."

"No, I'm good at what I do."

"But you were captured."

"But I got out."

"And how does that make you feel?"

"Like I need to get better at what I do."

"Moving on, any trouble falling or staying asleep?" Dr Gavin's said seeing that she was getting nowhere with that topic.

"None, sleep is a luxury that makes one get sleep whenever they can, wherever they can."

"Do you Feel irritable or have angry outbursts? Any difficulty concentrating?"

"None."

"Being "super-alert" or watchful or on guard?"

"No more so than usual." Not untrue.

"Feeling jumpy or easily startled?"

"Not really."

"Okay then. I'm going to say a word and you will say the first word that pops into your mind."

"Understood Doc."

"Friends."

"Dead."

"Family."

"None."

"Red."

"Blood."

"Earth."

"Protect."

"Enemy."

"Eliminate."

"Home."

"None."

"Pain."

"Motivation."

"That concludes that. Now you might find this next part difficult, you don't have to do it if you don't want to. I going to need you to describe in detail what happened to you whilst you were captured."

Shit. If I don't I'll probably not be allowed back out to the field for quite some time. But I can't make light of what happened or that will also get me prohibited from returning to active service. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

"No, of course, I shouldn't avoid the issue." Luke spoke, The fuck do say!, "Well I was kept in an underground cell, no natural light, humid, damp, claustrophobic-"

"And how was it like."

"Well, I would be lying if it wasn't disconcerting and uncomfortable, but I had been trained for this eventuality as any soldier is, more so in my case. So I was somewhat prepared for it."

"So what happened next?"

"Well, I had my leg and ankle broken on the first day. After that I was starved of water and food for nearly two weeks and when I did finally receive the two I was forced to grovel at that bastard's feet like some slave or pet. It was degrading to say the least. During my time there…," Pause for effect. close eyes. Inhale. 1, 2, 3. Exhale. Open eyes looking at the floor, "He used a knife usually, blade… sword thing otherwise. As my… arms, legs and torso can attest to. It was never just brief shallow cuts. It was either long and shallow or being stabbed. It… it… went on for days. It just didn't end. Day after day. Night after night. It just didn't end. He just kept on going." He allowed his voice to become a little cracked and shaky towards then end, to convey just how traumatic the experience was for him.

"And how have you been coping with this experience?"

"Well… I have been exercising more frequently, running helps to keep my head clear."

"Good, some people don't always find a healthy coping mechanism. But can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"You mentioned earlier that you wanted to get back into the 'fight'. Could you elaborate on why?"

"Uhh... I mean.. Well. I suppose I feel safest and securest when I know that I have squad mates watching my back and my gear on me. I'm used to it."

"So it's some form of comfort zone?"

"Exactly. It's my comfort zone."

"Not sure many people would say the military is a 'comfort zone', much less a combat zone."

"Well I can't argue that. We Praetorians don't fit the conventional norms."

"That statement couldn't be truer. Before you go I was wondering if you wanted to talk about your time with the Inni's. Specifically how you were-"

"We're not talking about that." Luke growled out.

"Listen, I get your not exactly keen on opening that can of worms. But it's a can that needs to be opened. You can't keep hiding from what happened behind the 'I'm a clone excuse', your going to have to face what he did to you sooner or later."

"We're done here." Luke said. Why did every time he had to see the shrinks did they insist on bringing up him. Couldn't they just leave him be with the cover file said was the case.

"That will be all for now, I'll send my report to your CO and he'll decide if your clear for service."

"Ma'am." Luke said as he got up and left.

2623 July 14th Earth Standard Calendar, LT. Luke Sparrow, Mandalor.

Luke heard his communicator ring for a second time that night. Looking at the caller I.D. he saw that Hex was calling him. He hadn't seen or heard from her since their last call about over a month ago.

"Hello Hex."

"Hey Luke, I wasn't able to reach you earlier a couple weeks back, what happened?"

"I got captures by some Mandalorians and was held captive for a little over two weeks. Got some first-hand experience of clan Varad hospitality." Luke said revealing his scared right arm so that hex could see it on her communicator. He saw her eyes fill with worry and concern for him.

"You don't have to worry about me I'm fine, a shrink looked at my head and didn't find anything wrong seeing as my CO cleared me for service."

"That may be true but you seem to be taking this whole thing in stride a little to well, as though you are completely unaffected by this horrific thing you've experienced."

"Hex... trust me on this... my training was unique, very unique. What I went through with clan Varad has nothing on what training I went through did to me."

"You keep mentioning this 'training' you've been through yet every time someone asks you what it was you say it's classified."

"Because it is."

"I know...," he saw Hex let out a sigh, "so anything else happen to you since we last talked?"

"Not really I'm leaving for Umbara within the week and will be joining up with O.A.S.D.F. and Republic forces. Until then I'm staying with Tracinya and her folks."

"She's already introducing you to her parents. You move fast." Hex said with a teasing grin.

"It's not like that and you know it."

"Sure, sure..."

"So what about on your end."

"I got transferred to the Pathfinders brigade." Luke let out an impressed whistle. The Pathfinders were a recon force that were trained to scout and fight in swamps, mountains, jungles, deserts and any other extreme condition one could think off, it took a certain type of person to qualify and join.

"Your trying to make me jealous aren't you."

"A little."

"Damn, that's impressive. It's no easy feat, congratulations. If you were on Mandalor I'd take you out for drinks, my treat."

"Aren't you a lightweight when it comes to alcohol?"

"My metabolism is very high so it gets into my system quickly, I can still drink more than you. I just become really drunk really quickly " Luke said defensively.

"Tell you what then, when we next meet you by me drinks if possible. Deal?"

"Deal. So, do you know where you're going to be deployed to yet?"

"Some tropical-esque planet on the Southern front."

"Promise you'll be careful, I won't be there to look after you this time?"

"Only if you promise too."

"Fine, I promise I'll be carful."

"Good, I have to go now, ping me when your next able to talk."

"Sure thing."

"See ya' Luke!"

"Bye Hex."

25031 Galactic Standard Calendar, Darth Sidious, Coruscant

Sidious slammed his fist down on his desk in frustration, despite his many spy's best efforts they had been unable to gather any clues as to where the Orion Arm was. He had gained insight to the Orion Arm's geopolitical situation, its sociology and other such things that would only become useful once he knew where it was and he had it under his thumb. Until he did they would remain a thorn in his side and a threat to his grand plan to take over the galaxy. The size of the Orion Arm's size was unknown, it's full military power was unknown, it's economic strength was unknown, it's technology was unknown. The Orion Arm Government was an unknown, and therefore a threat. Its offensives and operations so far in the war were fast, efficient and perfectly executed, mixing speed with firepower and flexibility. The Separatist's had been unable to stop them until General Zhao had lead two masterful defensive operations on the Northern and Southern fronts. There had been massive expenditure of droids to do so but the seemingly unstoppable force of the Orion Arm military had been weathered. General Grevious was currently planning an offensive into the core worlds now from the Eastern front which had fallen to the supervision of the clone legions and Mandalorians, with a token force of O.A.D.F. in the region. Luckily due to Zhao stopping the O.A.G. all fronts were now at a stalemate and now the attritional warfare he had been planning for could begin.

Sidious looked back at the report he received about the one O.A.G. planet that could be found. As it was the one planet the O.A.G. had that was known about due to the agreement between them and the Republic. Albion. A temperate world with two large continents. It had a population of two million Orionians, mostly military or there for business and another million inhabitants from the Republic. A single Orionian fleet was always in orbit and a million and half personnel were permanently stationed on world. Leaning back in his chair he let out a frustrated sigh as he turned and gazed out upon the Coruscant skyline. The O.A.G. was causing a headache. He'd just send his spies to infiltrate Albion, it would be a better to infiltrate Albion than the Orion Arm. Not to mention easier.

25031 Galactic Standard Calendar, General Zhao, CIS cruiser Indomitable

"Send the 712th armoured division to reinforce the 901st infantry division and see if you can get the 81st fleet on escort duty for the convoys, we need to increase the protection of our lifelines if we wish to keep the O.A.D.F. at bay. And mobilize the reserve infantry and armoured divisions."

"Yes Sir." His aid scampered off hurriedly to follow Zhao's orders. Zhao unlike many other CIS commanders and higher tier leaders in the Separatists chose to use organics over droids as part of his crew and staff. He felt as though it gave him greater flexibility and adaptability when new tactical situations arose and would allow for out-side the box ideas rather than the standard battle plans from the Tactical droids. Zhao believed it was this quality that allowed him to stop the O.A.D.F. on both the Northern and Southern fronts. Unfortunately the price of stalemate between the O.A.D.F. and Separatists on the two fronts was billions of credits worth of droids, resources and ships which could be replenished over time, but time was a luxury that didn't exist in war. The Separatists armies that had started out at the start of the war from the get go were exhausted, undermanned and underequipped. The new armies and their leaders where inexperienced and too eager against the Republic and this new foe in the form of the O.A.G. that was proving to be too much for them to handle.

Zhao brushed a hand through his hair as he laid back in his captain's chair. His wife had mentioned he had a few more grey hairs. He supposed being a leading hand in the Separatist war effort would do that to a person.

"Sir Count Dooku is contacting you."

"Put it through immediately." Zhao knew better than to keep the Sith waiting if he wanted to keep his head. Count Dooku's blue image appeared before him.

"General Zhao."

"Count Dooku." Zhao said bowing.

"Congratulations are in order. You have successfully held back the O.A.G.'s onslaught on two fronts. To rewarded this achievement the Separatist Parliament and myself have decided to promote you to Field Marshall and grant you full responsibility of the Southern front. Your orders are to hold the current positions through any means necessary and if possible to drive the barbarians back."

"I understand Sir."

"See to it you do." With that Count Dooku's image disappeared.

Judging from his orders the Separatists were going to hold the line on the Northern and Southern fronts and make their push on the Eastern front to knock the Republic out of the war and use that to bring the O.A.G. to the negotiating table. Unfortunately that required General Grevious to break through the Republic and Mandalorian forces. Provided he could do that, the Mandalorians could be tied down defending their home system and planet. Pockets of Republic resistance would remain but if a significant breakthrough was achieved the core worlds would be ripe for the taking being as undefended as they were by lazy and corrupt politicians, well most of them were bar a few exceptions.

It had all been going so well. Two years ago CIS planners had predicted a speedy collapse of any resistance mounted by the Jedi and Republic. There would have been a quick victory and the CIS would have become an independent state and welcomed any other systems willing to join. Or the Republic would have subjugated and absorbed into the CIS. Somehow the Republic had magicked up a force damned army out of nowhere and managed to slow down the Separatist. But Separatist high command was confident that victory was still inevitable and the sliding scale of war were in their favour. The it had shifted. The O.A.G. had suddenly appeared making contact with the Republic. He supposed the O.A.D.F. attacking the CIS ships was logical, one fleet engaged by another sending a distress signal would dictate that it would be likely that one would aid it. But then they had gone straight to Coruscant. To the Senate. To the Chancellor and Jedi. And they had given their side of the events that had transpired between the CIS and Republic from the Republic perspective while the CIS had been unable to give its. Then the Orion Arm Defence Force unleashed its unstoppable muscle upon an unprepared galaxy pushing the CIS back on all fronts initially until almost a year later he had stalled them in the Northern and Southern Fronts and General Grevious had started to drive the Republic and Mandalorians back on the Eastern.

The galaxy had seen something like the clone wars or the umpteenth galactic civil war in hundreds of years. The O.A.D.F. had come in with experience of war not even half a century old. And using that knowledge and experience their war machine had smashed ruthlessly and rapidly into the CIS placing them on the back foot immediately, their blitzkrieg, whatever that meant, and their shock and awe tactics worked tremendously. But they seemed to only work in the opening stages of war. Now though. Now attrition warfare could begin. And that was something an army of people could not win against an army of machines. One had to be recruited. One could be built, over and over. Until there was no-one to be recruited. And all that was left... Was vacant ranks.

An extract from the Orionian newspaper The Insider from the planet Malgor,

Should the O.A.S.D.F. use the Republic's AT-TE Walkers?

It's a potential improvement over the Titan tank pattern to be sure. But those legs are still slower, more vulnerable, and far less capable in most terrains than standard treads would be (to say nothing about the fuel costs.) The problem with tanks is that they're very heavy. This can be a huge problem with their mobility, since it can cause them to sink into even firm terrain. They're even too heavy for some paved roads.

Treads spread all that weight over a pretty large area, mitigating that effect to a degree. And because the treads roll quickly the force being transferred to the ground remains constant while also allowing the propulsive force of the engine to be applied pretty much anywhere there's contact with something. This means they can often dig themselves out of messes they get into on their own. Being low to the ground also makes them highly stable, allowing them to handle steep grades that a car might not be able to pass over.

Legs intensify the problem of the vehicle sinking, because instead of having the weight spread out over two metal bands running the entire length of the vehicle you've got just 6 pads that make up a fraction of that surface area. And each leg has a long cycle time when it takes a step, meaning that during the time it's at the most risk of losing balance you've got the most weight being supported by the ground, and thus the highest likelihood that said ground will collapse. And when that ground does collapse, the vehicle's belly is going to end up as a more stable platform to support its weight than the legs, which will work against it in trying to push itself back out again.

Finally, the bulk of the vehicle's weight is being lifted by those legs. That high center of gravity makes for an easily toppled transport. It might be able to handle an upwards slope well enough with careful maneuvering, but what about heading downhill? What about dealing with shifting terrain like gravel or mud under the legs? The thing is going to be naturally inclined to topple forwards onto its nose, on a downwards slope and if that happened at the wrong time it could easily end up being carried over onto its side. In fact, enemy troops would be wise to do this deliberately, shooting out the unshielded and unarmored ground right before one of the front legs came down on it. If that happens with a normal tank it generally remains stable even as it slides because the low center of gravity and broad platform make it inherently resistant to toppling.

So yeah. Given the choice, I'll take a good old-fashioned tank over a walker.

A/N

PTSD and other such mental trauma based injuries are real issues that affect both active and retired servicemen/women. I as a civilian cannot accurately portray or understand what these people have and are experiencing. I do not intend to make light of such mental health issues and hope to not insult those who have or know those who are affected, nor offend them.