General Grievous: Prove Your Worth

by GeneralPen0412

Tired of General Grievous' failures and supposed incompetence, Count Dooku gives his supreme commander an ultimatum and one final chance to prove himself to the Separatists. When a chance transmission comes through will it be enough to save the CIS cyborg from certain impending doom or lead to his imminent destruction?

6. Chapter 6

Hi everyone.

Hope you enjoyed the last chapter, as promised here is the next instalment. I would just like to take this opportunity to say how sorry I am for the delay, I had a major case of writers block and when I did over come it I still wasn't entirely sure how to etch out my story.

To compensate for this I have written the largest chapter of my story thus far. Hopefully it turned out alright but we'll have to see!

Anyway this update means that there are only two more chapters to go now, so the clock is ticking!

I would also just like to say thanks to everyone who commented / reviewed the last instalment:

Grievos27: thanks very much, glad you are enjoying it.

Potatoman117: thanks for commenting, though I am not quite sure what that has to do with this story

Hotpockets: Cheers, though as I am still relatively new to Fanfiction, so I am not quite sure what you meant by that terminology, but hey glad you like the chapter.

Finally I have managed to reach over 1000 views by now, so thanks out there to everyone for checking it out. I know it probably isn't much, especially when compared to some other Fanfiction's but hey it makes me feel good to reach a four digit number with my first Fanfiction, especially before it is completed.

Anyway that is all that I intend to say for now, so let's just cut to the chase and get on with it shall we?

Here is the sixth instalment of my fanfiction story.

Please enjoy.

Disclaimer: As always, I don't own Star Wars or any of its official characters.

Chapter 6: The Battle for Kalee part 3: - All-out war!

It was late afternoon / early evening now upon the planets eastern hemisphere, the solitary sun had began its descent burning away the last of the rain clouds and turning the sky a bright luminous orange. In the rains place a fine white mist had sprung up and now hung in the air around a location known as Stabolaz Gorge, turning the air humid and wet. Encompassing much of the narrowed V-shaped valley, to the wandering soldier it made the situation tenuous almost dangerous, as coupled with the temperature it resulted in the rapid build-up of moisture around the eyes or visual receptors (if your were wearing a helmet) leading the bystander to have to stop constantly and brush the temperate coating away. Even so many a soldier welcomed it, anything to turn away from the grizzly sight unfolded before them.

The deep canyon was known for its rocky outcrops, sharp angled stones and slippery mud soaked surfaces, mosses were a constant danger best avoided especially after heavy rain. This was a factor that the warriors on both sides had long since taken into account and learned to cope with. Right now though the threat of personal injury was probably the last thing on the soldier's minds, for it was not just the rocks that made their position hazardous and unwelcoming. Great torrents of filthy black smoke lit up sections of Stabolaz's landscape, stretching high into the sky thrown by manmade fires so hot, they blotted out the sun above them, making it even more hazardous to see in some places. Even so, it was impossible to avoid noticing the large pools of blood stretched out across the rocky surface, nor to mistake the vast outlines of the bodies from which the great blood stems originated.

Strewn out across the meandering valley, the bodies ran the entire length of the landscape, from one end of the gorge right the way down to the other. There were far too many to count, especially in the gathering darkness, not that it would have been easy matter anyway. Quite a number of the soldiers had their arms and heads missing, part of countless thousands that lay scattered out across Stabolaz's surface. Clone troopers, Kaleesh kolkpravis and Yam'rii corpses littered the field, lying in just about every position fathomable, and more so amongst the broken husks and metal frames of what had once been battle droids. These warriors, the representatives of two opposing factions, staunchly set against the other factors armies and principles were now united by one common denominator: death!

The bodies mere presence along with the reek and odours that accompanied it was testimony to the fact that a battle had taken place here at Stabolaz, not too long ago. The presence of undried blood and burning shrapnel indicated that it had to have taken place earlier that very day, the surviving soldiers were aware of this. Sometime, in the late morning, barely eight hours ago battle had commenced, two sides waging a desperate struggle as they waged for supremacy, each one acting to try and determine the fate of the planet around them. Yet as the survivors, people who had not taken part in the battle itself rambled around, one grizzly factor became paramount: the dead on one side drastically outnumbered the casualties on the other.

This meant that the victory had been a decisive, the legions on both sides were now gone, the battle long since over. One army had walked away victorious with many a prize. The other sides soldiers now lay dead, cut to bloody ribbons where they had fallen under a strafe of enemy fire power. Yet as demonstrated, the battlefield was not entirely deserted and living soldiers traced its surfaces once more. Some of the soldiers from one of these factions had returned to the battlefield, a part of what but a few mere hours ago had been a thriving functional army, they now seemed to mill around almost aimlessly. Wandering around in groups of twos or three's they scowered every inch of Stabolaz's vast landscape, crouching down sometimes to look over a comrade, before rising upwards once again shaking their heads before starting the search again, as they desperately tried to find any signs of life, any indication that there had been survivors.

It was getting dark now, dusk was quickly fading into twilight and as the remaining moments passed, the situation became even more forlorn, as hope quickly began to fade. Yet the soldiers were efficient and professional, carrying out their duty without complaint. Outwardly they showed no sign of their despair, but even so it began to set in, and now as they continued to roam about pointlessly, two questions began to stretch out across each of the guardsmen's minds:

How and why?!

How could this have happened? How was it that an army like this could have been defeated, and so entirely? How did things unfold the way they did, in order for the battlefield to end up like this?

Why was it, which factors played their part in such mannerisms that it warranted a tale of untold devastation and slaughter?

What was it, amid the consecrated cries and harrowing gales that must have echoed across this battlefield had filled the now dead soldiers minds in those last few precious seconds before their lives were so cold heartedly cut down?

Eight hours ago, The Battle of Stabolaz Gorge, Liberty Base, the Planet Kalee.

The heavy rains continued to fall, a harrowing indication that the heavens were not quite ready to give up on their downpour yet. Anybody might have taken it as a sign of mourning, an indication that the planet itself reeled at the devastation and atrocities and desolation wrought across its surface. If so then these signs were pointedly ignored, made redundant by what transpired across Stabolaz's northern backdrop, in a location now referred to as Liberty Base.

Here the latest conflict now raged in earnest, even though it had just begun, the sound of blaster bolts and carbine fire echoed out across the confined entrenchments, with the soldiers on both sides pressing forward anxious to drive the enemy back, and regain control of the chaotic situation unfolding before them. The Republic and Separatist forces had engaged each other on Kalee before, multiple times across whole sectors of the planet, but this encounter was something different. Every fighter knew that this battle would be the decisive one, the onslaught which would determine the fate of the planet Kalee, and whether she fell into the supervision of the Republic and its allies, or remained free, in the hands of her natives, faithful to the Separatist cause!

Neither side was letting up despite the weather, the two armies clashed on. The droid contingency marching against the numerically superior companies that formed not just Liberty's garrison but over two thirds of the Republics ground units. Stressed on by the presence of their supreme commander the CIS battle droids continued to advance launching an array of red blaster bolts against their stationary foe, whilst guided and maintained by the visions and prospects of their Jedi overseer, the clone and Yam'rii troopers did their best to hold their positions countering the incoming fire with salvos of their own blue and yellow blaster bolts.

With so much fire power the dead were mounting up. Clone and Yam'rii militiamen fell like domino's whilst droids collapsed in smoking ruins, some torn apart by the shear force of the impacts that killed them. The few vehicles currently left among the fray were mainly mounted up on the Republics side, the Separatist STAP's having performed their absolute paramount but at the end of the day their flimsy frames were no match for the robust forms and concentrated fire power of the Republics speeder bikes and light AT RT walkers. Now though it was the Republics vehicle lines that were taking damage against the Separatist barrage, and it was all to common to hear wailing screams as an electronic mount exploded engulfing its solitary rider within an all-consuming fire. Meanwhile the other larger vehicles such as the ATTE's and the Republics gargantuan air defence turrets stood idly unused by their army, the later twirling anxiously but dare not firing lest they rain down to much heavy fire as to end up crippling their own troops. Meanwhile a small regiment, containing but a few hundred troopers, mainly clones hung back, relative to the bases landing platforms, and the array of LAAT gunships laden there. These men watching and waiting stood by on high alert, ready either to go the aid of their standing battlefront or else perfectly positioned to mount up and make ready to reinforce the Republic fleet instead.

Yet despite these troopers absence and even without the support of large, heavy tanks it was becoming blatantly obvious that the onset was now turning inexorably in favour of the Republic. Confined by the narrow passage way that served as the bases only access point from Liberty to Stabolaz, Grievous' forces could not gather enough troops to compensate for the casualties they sustained. Some of these new arrivals were being cut down even before they contributed to the battle, made easier perhaps by the fact that their forces emerged from such a tiny opening into a very small patch of bare ground only a couple yards long, before having to contend with the mainstay of Liberty's forward barricade.

By contrast the Republic forces were well entrenched, and their position was both secure and well-defended. The whole of Liberty bastion had now been alerted and every available trooper now poured in from every direction ready to reinforce the garrison. There were so many of them, a coalition of nearly seven thousand clones and Yam'rii that they massed together along the southernmost edge of Liberty's parameters forming a large mob, the mainstay of Eeth Koth's nine thousand ground soldiers. Those on the front lines, or who bore weapons of sufficient firing range were pushed forwards by the gathering crowd, trying desperately to maintain their balance whilst at the same time hailing fire and death down upon their enemies. Those who did not have such armaments or placement did their best to spur their brothers on with words of encouragement or (in the case of some Yam'rii) unleashed blood chilling battle cries in the direction of their enemy, all the while, watching and waiting, ready to step forwards and take up arms from the dead if necessary so as to carry out their duty once more should yet another brother fall.

Even so, and with defeat now becoming ever more imminent the droid forces refused to relent or show any sign of mercy. They continued to advance even as blaster bolts, sniper rounds and the smaller turbo turret fire continued to thin their ranks even further. The number of droids emerging out onto the plain had drastically decreased by now and reinforcements were waning, yet still they marched. This was not a sign of bravery nor martyrdom, everybody knew that the droids were coward at heart, who normally wouldn't hesitate to try and save themselves if the situation called for it, even if they technically weren't alive. Many a Republic warrior wondered if it was in fact the sheer physical presence of Grievous that gave way to their actions. The cyborg commander was known for his huge dislike for the droid followers and the fact that he would not hesitate to execute them if he felt like it had filtered through the network of spies to the mainstay of the Republics ears. It was suggested therefore that the droids on Kalee kept on fighting so as not to die by Grievous' hand, a reinforcement that they feared the wrath of their commander more than they did death at the Republics hand.

Besides, all was not as it appeared; the droid army still had one hand left to play. Their trump card unit, a small division of the elite Magna Guards which had now marched onto the battle field joining the army from the rear. Unlike the other droids they did not break formation and attempt to find a place from which to harass the enemy gathering, they stayed together in a tight cohesive unit marching staunchly forwards, hands tightened around their electro staffs. From the rear of the Separatist ranks Grievous saw them approach, though he no longer had a mouth through which to smile the few visible features of his face tightened and his vocal receptors released a gleeful chuckle. Using the communicators strapped within his cranial mounts he sent out a small silent signal to the droids gathered about him so that they would side step giving his personal guards a clear path to the Republic lines.

The heavy rain coupled with the clapping thunder, dark overcast sky and the melee fire going on about Liberty hide the unit of five droids until they were within twenty five feet of the Republic lines. At which point a lone Republic sharp shooter on the right flank managed to spot them amid the fray. Recognising the charging unit and the what they posed he cried out to anyone within hearing range, whilst also operating his helmets internal communication lines so that everyone was brought to attention about the approaching danger. As such the unit were greeted by a torrent of fire as they charged full pelt across the remaining distance, though in the thick of the battle they dodged much of the incoming bolts. Those munitions that did impact, did little to hinder most of the advancing unit as their slightly thicker armour prevented the droids from sustaining fatal injury. Never the less one Magna Guard was slower than the rest, and as a number of bolts ricochet across his torso and upper arm, vital circuits were damaged. The droid spluttered then stopped entirely as one particularly nasty raid of densely concentrated salvo succeeded in tearing off his arm. It came loose as the vital components, already weakened by prior engagements failed and came crashing to the ground with a sickening squelch! Within seconds as the droid stood about, contemplating what had happened a torrent of rounds came from all forward facing directions, as desperate to prevent him recovering every nearby clone and Yam'rii rifle men concentrated their shower squarely upon him. The droid let out a pitiable howl as bolts tore into him from every side, striking left, right and centre. For the briefest of seconds the droid stood feebly in place, then with a dying screech he fell backwards collapsing into the mud soaked ground beneath him.

Yet this droids momentary weakness, caused much the front lines attention to be focused squarely upon him, and as such his sacrifice brought the surviving comrades the opportunity they need. Completely Ignoring their fallen brother the elite droids broke and ran full pelt across the remaining distance that separated them from the Republic lines. Finally when they were within six feet of their opponents the droids used their staffs to perform a series of necessary pit manoeuvres, using the speed and momentum they had just gathered from the ensuing gallop to carry them up and over the barricade into the melee. Their Izvoshra style cloaks billowing behind them, the Magna Guards kicked several warriors in the chest knocking them over and causing others to fall back to under the momentum, before they landed squarely amid the Republic ranks. Standing only a few feet apart the droids quickly began to make their presence felt as they set upon their temporarily stunned foes, taking the opportunity to adopt the fighting styles Grievous had taught them and apply it in battle. One droid swung his electrostaff in a graceful arc before him taking down scores of foes, whilst others adopted the various forms preferential to one on one combat, allowing the to dispatch one foe quickly before moving off to the next one.

It was in these precious seconds that one of the greatest weaknesses of Republic's grand army or at least this particular fleets army was highlighted. Its warriors though very strong and capable marksman were not well suited or versed in the arts of hand to hand combat. Though many of the Republics warriors carried knives or in the Yam'rii's case spears, and other combat weapons there was no telling how effective these armaments would be especially against a heavily armoured battle droid, who felt little pain and was well versed and trained in the skills of the Jedi arts!

Within seconds dozens of clones and Huk warriors were dead, their heads cracked open and thorax's smashed. Many Republic soldiers were backing away now, knowing it would be suicide to stand to close to the droids or attempt to engage them single handily. Sticking in as tight a nick formation as possible the infantrymen and insectoids gave ground slightly so as to permit some distance between themselves and the gargantuan warriors that now approached, so that they might get a clear, better shot. This was not an easy thing to do as given the large number of reinforcements trying to push forward simultaneously from the back the soldiers were caught between a rock and a hard place. What was worse the outcome was slipping away from them once more and the Republic was struggling to maintain a hold over the situation which had been under their control not so long ago.

Now that an area of weakness had been opened up in the Republics lines, Grievous had ordered his remaining B1 and B2 battle droids to advance upon thee enemy lines specifically concentrated against that specified location so as to exploit the situation further to their advantage. With so much of the front lines attention diverted towards the new assault line, a few dozen B1 and B2 squadrons moved arduously in the direction forwarded, to take advantage of the situation as Grievous said. Virtually unopposed the few droids who were shoot down crumpled as their allies scaled over the battlements, taking up position behind the Magna Guards before launching their own assault into the Republics way. The further ray of laser fire gave great line to the Separatist lines whilst bringing nothing but further death and exploitation to the Republic command.

Space battle, above the planet Kalee, parallel to the planets eastern hemisphere.

"Admiral, the Separatist frigates are changing course, repeat the two frigates are deviating away from the main force." The call came from one of the terminal workers, whose duty along with many others was to not only maintain constant surveillance of the Star Destroyers own status but also to take account and notice of all the enemies position. Still punching in a series of battle codes and relay messages, Namlick looked up from the terminal he stood at to gaze out of the port view window at the enemies position. The soldiers statement was correct, the two Muunulist frigates, which until now had maintained geo stationary position on either side of the capital ships were now listing to port / starboard respectively. The experienced Admiral, had no doubts that the purpose of this move was to form a new flank. Up until now all four of the Separatist craft had been alternating between firing on a single target to concentrated barrages, all the while maintaining a boxed position. Having now left the wreckage of Endeavour behind the three remaining star destroyers had formed a wedge formation and were advancing slowly on the enemy position. Namlick's own craft, the Valiant was at the forefront, leading the charge, a manoeuvre which had now caused the Separatist fleet to break up.

"This is Captain Aras" a voice shouted over the intercom, " we have the enemy vessel within our sights. Requesting permission to engage Admiral!" Namlick knew that the voice came from the commander of the Star Destroyer on the starboard side of his own capital ship. Namlick knew the young captain well and was aware that he was both a clear minded tactician and a level headed soldier, but right now the two IG banking clan ships were the least of their worries. It was the Providence class destroyer and the Lucrehulk that held the real firepower in this fleet and it was them that the Star Destroyer contingency needed to fire upon.

"Negative captain, not at close range!" Namlick responded, his gaze kept firmly ahead at the battle transpiring before him and his concentration never wavering. "Launch a brief counter offensive against the enemy station if you want to but hold geo stationary position, that is an order, repeat do not break formation."

His gaze was briefly cut off as a unit of vulture droids buzzed passed them, so close and briskly that they made the Star Destroyers viewing glass rattle. Namlick didn't actually see the shots take place but he heard the explosion that followed telling him that the momentary strafing round had been successful. A great torrent of flames now issued from the starboard frigates bow section from where the star destroyers long range ion rounds had hit it. From the fact that the ships bow dived suddenly leading the ship into a deep graceful descent Namlick knew that the ship had been crippled and was now effectively out of the fight. "Great shot kid, tell your boys that's some darn good shooting" he responded in kind, now thinking of the poor men and women of the Endeavour whose loss had now partially been avenged.

"Now tell your men, there will be time for celebration later" though he couldn't help smiling as he heard cheering over the holo-net and issuing from behind his back as his own crew revelled in the vanquishing of a foe. "For now" he continued loud enough for everyone to hear "concentrate all fire upon those remaining capital ships. You hear me our priority is the two command ships, that is our primary objective!" The order was meet with a series of cry's of acknowledgement mainly pertaining to the words "Yes sir", and the response was a number of loud BAM's as the three remaining Star Destroyers launched distributed projectiles against the two larger and better defended Separatist battleships, completely ignoring the smaller and speedier surviving frigate.

Aboard the Vengeful Stars main bridge TS-192 observed the latest up dates, he stood tall and straight but his like those all around him shook slightly as the impacts of the incoming fire rounds rocked the entirety of the vessel. He turned his gaze slightly to the right, through his optic lenses he watched as a solitary vulture droid chased after two ETA interceptors and an ARC fighter, flanked by two TRI droids. The TRI droid's forward mounted turbo lasers took care of the light interceptors with relative ease but the ARC spun and twirled dodging the laser rounds of its three oncoming pursuers whilst the rear mounted gunner tried desperately to return the favour. In the end the vulture droids targeting system and a well-placed missile put an end to that hope.

"Status?" he inquired simply as he walked over to the pilot seat, his voice calm and commanding.

The Neimoidian looked up, as if wondering whether to relay the information that the ships networks were telling him but in the end he finally relented. "Shields are holding, but failing in some sectors reports indicate no major damage as of yet. Fighter relays are too many to count, but forces are holding. Steph An Rul reports massive damage to their bow section. Systems are holding but the ship major control networks have taken serious damage sir. The ship is essentially crippled in space."

"These losses are - acceptable" TS-192 declared after a moments dramatic pause. The Neimoidian turned to look up at him, only to notice that the T series tactical droid had finally moved away from his standing position and was now advancing towards the view point window once more. Peering out at the enemy battle cruisers in front of him, he watched perceptively for a moment as the Star Destroyers continued to launch another array of fire power against them, causing the Vengeful Star to shudder once more.

"Sir internal systems indicate a massive decrease in the ships forward shields strength, we cannot hold out against this cannon fire much longer!" the Neimoidian pointed out.

"Divert all available power to forward shields, we shall have to do something about their incoming fire power!" TS-192 told the relevant chains who immediately set about carrying out his orders. The sized tactician marched back to his solitary position by the pilots seat, turning to issue out further commands towards necessary groups of pilot droids as he did so. "Order all available fighters to target the main defensive grids I want as many auto turret defences off line as possible!" Then turning to the lone Neimoidian he gave a new set of orders.

"We each number three cruisers a piece but our stratagem is different to theirs. Tell all of the remaining cruisers to deviate away from random crossfire and concentrate all weapons against one specific space cruiser" the droid commanded, pointing towards the designated Star Destroyer as he did so. "Tell Shin Nah Hal to lock all primary weapons to their command centre, commander, whilst the others concentrate all fire elsewhere. Destroy them!" he said emphasising the last two words.

Shin Nah Hal was the surviving Intergalactic Clan star frigate, which owing to Admiral Namlick's order had so far avoided any damage from the Republic's latest shelling round. Now though it adjusted its settings so that the smaller slightly nimbler craft was facing towards the starboard destroyers gigantic form. Owing to the fact that the vessel had only one direct form of forward offensive it was not hard for the ships commander to have all systems target the designated section. Within seconds the main power cells had fired up and the ship along with its larger counterparts launched a series of several, concentrated masses of ion power and turbo missiles right at the single enemy cruiser.

"DAMN IT!" Namlick cried as a series of shock waves caused by the resonating explosions engulfed another one of his ships, setting of more alarms and shaking the entirety of the Valliant's superstructure. To his left the Star Destroyer Fortitude's hull was outlined by a series of white hot flares. Initially the ships shields held, repelling the first two to three waves of projectiles, but they began to grow weaker under the successive strain. Finally they failed altogether, leaving the ships views open and its crew exposed enough to take the consequences. Though it was not destroyed outright by the ensuing bombardments the ship suffered serious damage, the majority of its left hull ridden with a series of large fires and ominous explosions. Finally with one last focused angles the Separatist armada succeeded in bringing down Fortitude's command bridge, which was entirely eviscerated. With its command stations destruction the Star Destroyer tilted, starting to list sharply to port.

Once again Namlick's officers tried furtively to get a hailing signal from the crippled Star Destroyer, whilst others ran status reports trying to establish the extent of the damage. Namlick was just about to tell them not to bother again, when one of the commanding officers addressed him with incoming message. "Sir, signals coming through Fortitude is hailing us" the clone explained. "There's massive damage to the superstructure, running across a multitude of levels, access lost to primary hanger bays one and two. Crew reports ships weapons are operational and standby generators are functioning!"

"I understand commander, and that's all very well but without primary command those stations are useless to us" Namlick pointed out, turning back away from the commando to survey the situation through the view screen. Namlick's eyebrows furrowed, his face contorted with rage as he stared out at the mass of Separatist fire power which had once again tipped the scale of the battle in their favour, against his own forces. "DAMN IT, THIS THE ENDEVAOUR ALL OVER AGAIN!" Namlick chastised himself slapping his hands furitively against the terminals screen, causing the image upon it to flicker and fade momentarily before springing back to life. Admiral Namlick did not care, it had been his decision to distribute the fire power and now yet another one of his cruisers and the men inside it had paid the price for his mistake. He should have concentrated his fire power against a single enemy ship like the Separatist forces had done. He felt an overwhelming surge of jealousy and admiration for the enemy commander, whoever he was, he had proven himself to be a capable strategist able to see past his enemies lines and assess the necessary weaknesses within that battle line, being able to exploit the effectively, all the while keeping a clear level headeven in the thickest of battles.

Well, Namlick was no fool either, he did not attain his rank by sitting on the side lines or from reading out of a text book. No it was earned by a lot of theory and practice studies combined, through blood and sweat, mental exertion and above all a lot of think. Now was not the time to focus on let downs and dwell on past mistakes, now was the time to look forwards to the future and think how best to deal with the ensuing problem. As he comprehended this a collective calm came over the Admiral once more and he focused on the scale of the situation in front of him once more.

The Endeavour was destroyed and the Fortitude catastrophically damaged, whilst the fighter pilots seemed to be holding out reasonably well against the enemy onslaught. Thanks to the prior engagement his remaining forces i.e. Valliant and Harbinger were now in position to cope with this loss better than they had been when Endeavour was lost, now they had the means and forces necessary to deal with the oncoming threat. Namlick no longer had the cruisers necessary to ensure a practical enough defence anymore, but then again that may not necessarily be the best strategy anymore for the two remaining cruisers were still fighting and not out of for the count yet. No it was time to change things to their advantage and exploit the full extremities of the Star Destroyers arsenal.

"I want you to contact every remaining officer" he told his aides, "tell Harbinger to bring all available long and short range weapons online. Inform Fortitude to activate as many short range defences as possible, tell them we have more pressing matters to deal with at present but that we shall send aid to them as soon as possible, at the first available notice. Contact all available pilots, I want everyone air borne, and I want it done now. Get all available fighter squadrons to initiate strafing runs against those enemy cruisers, tell those pilots that I want the crew of those ships kept so busy with external defence that they won't have another opportunity to launch an offensive capability like that again. Have Harbinger advance geo stationary position alongside us at all times. We're taking the fight to them now boys so get ready cause it's going to be a bumpy ride, do you hear me, we are preparing for broadside mount. The priority of this is those main cannon belchers in front of us. We are going to take those griffin pitchers out before we attack the ships on broadside! Get everyone available on the job, on the double!" There were no responses this time, as the staff and crew members scurried about, higher ranking officials barking out edicts carry out their commanders command.

Glad to be doing something practical once more Namlick glared out the window once more, narrowing his eyes in hatred as he watched the Star Destroyers launch yet another wave of barrage fire at the enemy vessels, only this time he felt the ship shudder beneath him as the engines roared to life and the ship began to advance on the enemy position. Amid the chaos and debris several Republic star fighters broke off from the endless parade of pursuing enemy fighter craft and headed in the direction of their new objective. Namlick's expression softened somewhat as he comprehended just how loyal his men truly were, to carry out their duty without hesitation, despite having lost two of their cruisers and over a full quarter of their fighting men. He could only hope that the Republic soldiers comprising the ground forces were fairing much better than his own troops.

Facing General Grievous himself was one thing, but the enemy commander up here was good in his own right. But Namlick wondered how he would fair when the battle situation turned against him like Namlick was about to do now?

On board the Vengeful Star TS-192 maintained a constant vigil even as the first few fighters reach the front lines of his cruiser and began their efforts to wreak havoc amongst the turbo turret defences and other vital structures. Combined with the steadied salvo now launched by the Star Destroyers the Providence Class Cruiser finally began to feel the effects of the incoming fire. Alarms blared out from every direction, harrowing reports came from every sector and enemy craft zoomed in and out of the bridge view screen more times than he dared to count. TS-192 ignored them all, focusing his attention on the words issuing from one commander amid a gale of others.

"All battlements fire, fire" the Neimoidian pilot screamed frantically, his apparent cool having finally evaporated. The scenery outside changed once more, as a hail of turret fire lit up across the ship's bow section followed here and there by the resounding explosions and luminescence of small suns, the clear indication of dying spacecraft. The Neimoidian barely noticed the incoming reports that now lit up across his computer screen as his attention turned once more to the hulking figure standing above him. "Captain, we count roughly fifty fighters at present, but their numbers are rising fast. Our auto turret defences are doing their best but it is only a matter of time before they are overwhelmed. Target trajectories put them on direct course for the long range cannons, and without them we won't be able to …"

"Yes, I know" TS-192 cut the pilot off with a nod to indicate his understanding as he now lent in to study the readings for himself. Bring a mechanical hand up to his chin, the droid considered all factors for a moment and then calmly straightened up belaying his orders to the droid / organics stationed within proximal hearing range. "Concentrate the shields to all life support and offensive structures" he told a nearby group of B1 pilot droids, "it is important that we maintain control over those for as long as possible. All other positions are expendable." Another explosion happened to rock the ship as the droids hurried out to carry out his orders, yet the tactical commander barely seemed to notice as he was now turning towards a second group of Neimoidian's stationed in the co-pilots seats around him. "Have the second and third battalions maintain prior engagements with the enemies star fighters, tell them to converge on the Republic spacecraft and to take out as many of them as possible. Order all remaining units to advance upon the enemy ships."

The group greeted his response with a series of acknowledgements, as TS-192 turned his attention back upon their solitary kinsman still seated in main pilots chair. Clearly the Neimoidian was missing something because the T Series battle droid now seemed to be taking these latest developments rather well. He moved to voice his doubts and disapproval but his thoughts were drowned out as the battle co-ordinator delivered the most important set of orders by far, directly to him. "Launch the first wave of boarding parties against the enemy cruisers!"

"What?" the Neimoidian gasped, not sure that he had heard the battle droid correctly.

"You heard me commander" TS-192 replied in his flat monotonic voice. "Order all of the available light weight landing forces to head out. Tell them to target the two remaining capital ships and aim for the main hanger bays, this will delay the number of star fighters that the enemy commander will be able to commit from his tactical reserve. Make sure that all lines are open and available to provide the gunships with cover and access. Then order the heavier standby units to mobilise!"

The Neimoidian looked horrified by this declaration and could no longer keep his fear or reservations contained. "But – but sir, many of those units were drawn up from our ships garrison, if we launch them now we will be leaving ourselves open and vulnerable to boarding ourselves! I mean the Republic Star Destroyers are advancing after all, who is to say that is not their primary objective as well?!" It was a well-known factor that Neimoidian's were cowards who owing to years operating preferably as bankers or business agents tended to avoid unnecessary risk taking that could otherwise cost them their lives. Unfortunately for him, the droid commander did not share this sentiment and to make matters worse there was more to the picture.

"I am aware of the current situation commander, but this is just a risk that we will have to take. Besides these orders come directly from General Grievous himself" this harsh revelation was given statically, rather matter of factly "this concept is all part of his scheme. He requires us to take as many of those ships alive as possible, so we will operate according to his plan." The droid paused, giving his organic counterpart a silent moment to comprehend all of this information. "Of course if you would prefer to argue this case directly to Lord Grievous himself feel free to do so, I will simply find another willing to carry out his command. Therefore unless you have any further objections I suggest you carry out my orders commander if you know what is best for you!" He gestured towards the Neimoidian's command terminal as he said so.

That did it, no matter how scared he was or what his own personal feelings in this matter were, the cowardly pilot was not stupid enough to delay a direct order from General Grievous, not unless he wished to end up at the bottom of a grave pile. Without any further the craven fool began hurriedly punching in a series of command codes on his computer screen, hailing all surrounding units beside him with orders and activating tannoy systems so as issue out further commands. TS-192 watched him momentarily before gazing out of the view screen once more, watching the raging space battle carrying out between the two factions, as their forces now drew ever more intimately nearer.

The truth was that the Neimoidian was right to be worried, and had he been capable of doing so TS-192 probably would have as well. The fact was that he alone on this bridge knew of the true scoop behind General Grievous' command and the reason for this preliminary attack against the Republic space cruisers. It was so risky in fact that he had been told not to relay it to any of his command, not just for security measures but also because it was a perilous situation even at the best of times. Without a properly established communication line the fleet commander had no idea how things were unfolding on the planet's surface below and he had no way of knowing if he had launched his assault to soon or to late for this gamble to pay off. He was risking everything, thinning out his own ships defensive lines in order to create a diversion that would ultimately enable the Separatist forces to overwhelm their Republican counterparts.

The fate of Kalee and its people now hung in the balance. It had all come down to a stratagem that traced its origins to the planet below, and would doubtingly conclude by reaching its epilogue up here in space. It all hinged upon the success of one risky move and suicidal gambit that would only succeed if the entire manoeuvre was kept a secret!

Stabolaz Gorge

With a howl of fury Grievous deactivated the blue bladed lightsaber clutched in his right hand which he shoved tumultuously into the dark damp recesses of his cloak, even as the rain continued to fall and pelt down around him. Ignoring this the droid General now drew out his blaster pistol instead. Kicking the Roggwart forward the pair bounded forwards slightly as Grievous levelled his weapon, now clutching at his steeds reins in the other hand as he began to firing randomly into the gathering crowd stretched out before him. The red bolts seemed to glow brighter than usual in the heavy downpour and having been trained from a young age in the art of marksmanship none of Grievous' shoots failed to find a shoot. With a slight pop and a felled shriek soldiers toppled and died amid the Republic ranks.

Even so Grievous' contribution did little to belay the inevitable outcome of this skirmish or inspire hope within the remainder of his followers. By now less than fifty of the two hundred droids Grievous had brought with him to Liberty remained alive and many of the survivors were hesitant and understandably very reluctant to advance upon the Republics soldiers, not that Grievous was ordering them to do that anymore mind you. The actions of the four Magna Guards a little earlier had installed panic amid the Republic lines, a fact that the droid forces had been quick to react upon so that for a brief second it actually looked like the outnumbered droid forces might tip the scales in favour against the much larger force!

Unfortunately for the Separatist's though, this moment had been a short lived one. In the face of terror discipline and will power took over, so by overcoming their initial shock at being attacked at close quarters and now fuelled by the primordial instinct to survive the Republics clone and Yam'rii soldiers quickly rallied and launched a desperate counter offensive to turn the incoming battle droids back. Though the forward facing turbo turrets were of little use at the moment the Republic soldiers did have one distinct advantage over the advancing automatons; the sheer weight of numbers. Concentrating all available fire power clone and Yam'rii riflemen decimated the droid lines so that within several heartbeats all of the B1 and B2 battle units that had dared to scale their defensive barricade were now utterly destroyed leaving only the Magna Guards in their wake.

It was now at last, that the Yam'rii combat divisions finally began to play their part. Armed with spears, staffs the units charged forward aided by other individuals which bore no armaments at all. It might have seemed suicidal but then again it was due to a very specific reason. These servicemen's lack of armaments was due to the fact that unlike their brethren they had only a single long protruding talon attached to the end of each forelimb. Though this hampered their ability to carry out manual labour it did provide these warriors with a great advantage when it came to entering close range combat. Even so numerous individuals were still swept aside by the elite combat droids. Bearing thicker armour than most units within the Separatist armada the Magna Guards were able to shrug off the majority of these blows as easy as they had shrugged off the blaster fire. Now alternating the defensive and offensive moves the four battle droids battled desperately as they were pushed backwards towards the barricade. Behind them Grievous and the surviving units continued to desperately harass the Republic line.

Then as one Magna Guard on the left flank impaled an unfortunate soldier through the abdomen one lucky Yam'rii took advantage of the situation and leaping forwards managed to hook his pincers around the droids neck. The droid bellowed trying desperately to look over his shoulder as the insectoid tried desperately to use the full scope of his weight to pull the enemy soldier down. Failing miserably the Yam'rii soldier was forced to hold on for dear life as the droid started writhing and shaking furiously from side to side letting go of the electro staff and holding it with one hand as he tried desperately to throw the opponent off. It was a costly mistake on his part.

Taking advantage of the situation any nearby troopers chose to concentrate their fire / combat power directly against this solitary unit. Set upon from all angles the droids metal coating was raked as spears, staffs and talons came at him from all sides chipping and denting it in several places. Howling in fury the droid staggered forward trying one handedly to wield his staff against his incoming attackers even as one of his eyes was blotted out and destroyed by a lucky shoot aimed from a nearby trooper. Wailing in agony the Magna Guard broiled up, leaving his chest exposed once more. Another salvo of blaster bolts, spears, talons and even (in some brave / suicidal cases) fists smashed into his exposed torso and against such an onslaught even the mighty Magna Guards defences could only take so much. With a final frantic screech the droid toppled onto his back his body limb and useless, necessitating the Yam'rii insurgent to leap out of harms way as his foe crashed into the muddy ground, battered and broken. A second later the red gleam in the droids remaining eye flickered and died as his vital circuits ceased to function.

Behind the melee, Grievous paused momentarily then looking quite aghast the cyborg lowered his blaster pistol, so that it rested against his side, the tip still smoking but now quite useless for either attack or defensive purposes. The Roggwart snarled and shrieked beneath him but Grievous ignored it. The death of one his elite warriors was not only a devastating blow, it seemed to have brought about an awful realisation to the droid general, a realisation that was quickly reinforced by what happened next.

Screaming with outrage one of the other Magna Guards rushed forwards his double bladed weapon swinging angrily in a powerful swipe of the form five Jedi combat style, ready to avenge his fallen comrade. He had barely taken two steps however when not just blaster fire but what looked like a giant elongated blue bolt came out of nowhere and struck the droid painfully in the back. With a gasp of shock the droid fell face forwards and topple out of sight, a bright orange line still etched across his back from where the lightsaber had struck him. The machines weapon slipped from his grasp at defence and (thanks to his armours internal transmission systems which linked him to his own troops) Grievous sensed the Magna Guard trying desperately to make a grab for his fallen staff before the very weapon responsible for his predicament descended down upon him once more and impaled him, this time ensuring he was silenced.

Grievous personally cared little for the death of one of his elite units, though more valuable and better qualified than the bog standard units he was used to leading by now, like all the other automatons within the Separatist army, the droid was expendable. The failures and misjudgements that had just cost the droid its life did nothing except demonstrate just how unworthy a unit he actually was. Yet even so the death of two of his elite warriors within such a short space of time, particularly at the hands of a Jedi, only sanctified the cyborgs daunting realisation, whilst also no doubt bringing around another devastating loss to the already waning moral of Grievous' surviving entourage.

The situation here at Liberty was lost, there could be no doubt about that now. There was absolute no way that the remaining droid forces were going to stand up to the large seemingly infinite army stretched out before them, an army which realistically now outnumbered them almost one hundred and forty to one. If they stayed nothing awaited any of the Separatist forces except death and destruction.

They needed to fall back!

Grievous snarled desperately trying to think of some solution, some improbability that would enable him to recover the situation and grant victory to his entourage. He found none, and this only frustrated him further. He did not want to retreat, Grievous had promised himself that he wouldn't, he could not afford to break that promise. To retreat would be a recognition of his defeat, an insurance that this travesty had indeed occurred, which could potentially tarnish any opportunity he had left of proving himself worthy to Count Dooku, and the other spineless figures that called themselves leaders of the CIS movement. What was more important and most frightening to the droid general however, was the prospect that if he fell back, it would completely destroy the track record he had built up as Qymaen Jai Sheelal, a record which up until now had never tasted defeat upon Kaleesh soil. If he fell back now, if he, General Grievous, the latest transcendence of Qymaen retreated when he had taken an oath and promise to himself not to give up or flee the battlefield then there was every chance that his own forces would lose heart in their so called 'brilliant' commander so that the consequences of this battle and for the Kaleesh people in the long run, would be devastating!

Yet as he glared up in utter frustration at the Devaronian Jedi who had ensured this lasting impact Grievous could think of no alternative. He could always throw himself into the fray but he was not invincible, he couldn't take on an entire army on his own like this. Besides the valour of his own standing would not allow it, he was engaged in a conflict not a direct combat battle, not at the moment anyway and as Dooku had often told him there was no honour to be found in death. Glory was for the living and since he / Grievous did not have the element of surprise, fear or intimidation on his side, factors which Dooku had instilled that he must always apply to every battle, there was no reason to stay any longer. These lesson were some of the few factors that Dooku taught him in which Grievous whole heartedly agreed with his lightsaber trainer. Better to sacrifice one's own reputation, if even temporarily so that one might live longer in order to reclaim it. What better way was there to improve oneself than just to survive rather than to die unceremoniously upon the forsaken battlefield.

All of these emotions broiled up within inside him as he contemplated this, amassing in a pool of hatred, not just for the enemy soldiers station around him, but for the Jedi order, for Dooku, Ventress, Durge, Gunray, the other Separatist fools that called themselves its leaders. And for Grievous himself. Across the battlefield Soltark Romalta sensed the broiling emotions through his connections to the force and for a brief moment turned away from the ensuing action so as to look out across the small clearing. By chance this just happened to be at the exact moment in which General Grievous lifted his bowed head up. For the briefest of seconds the two commanders eyes seemed to find and meet each other. Both expressions were identical; mirthless, pitiless, a look of absolute hatred shoot directly at the other, each commander now writhed and anguished by the pains that the other one had inflicted upon the other.

Soltark was brought back to reality as one of the droid bodyguards swung its lightsaber resistant pole staffs at his head in a blow aimed to crush and pulverise his head. A blow that would by all means have succeeded and killed him had Soltark not called upon the force fast enough to intercept the incoming strikes with the cross angle blade of his lightsaber. Second later, Grievous (after watching this) let out a tremendous roar of fury, mainly drowned out by the sound of the storm, and the conflict raging about before him. The cyborg tugged hard upon the reins of his steed pulling sharply to the right. The Roggwart shrieked angrily, raising itself up high almost straight before it veered in the direction which Grievous steered it. Finally and within an encouraging kick from its master the giant predatory mount surged forwards turning away from the battle field and out of sight as Grievous steered it towards the solitary gap in the cliff face. As the cyborg fled he completely ignored the surviving members of his vanguard, abandoning them uncaringly it seemed towards their disembroiled fate. Upon seeing him retreat however, the surviving droids realised what was happening and started calling OUT frantically to each other, telling themselves it was time to fall back and head back towards the Separatists own standing post within Stabolaz Gorge.

Many of the droids didn't need telling twice. Though a larger number of the B2 battle droids continued launch wave after wave of blaster fire from their wrist mounted turrets at the Republican lines they began the steady march backwards never once turning their receptors off of the enemies position. Many of the B1 battle droids had no such content, shrieking and shouting at each other, they turned and ran on mass sprinting and gallivanting across the now drenched battlefield, kicking up muddy puddles as they did so. The few who did face in the direction of carnage waited only until they were out of firing range before daring to fall back and make all haste for the relative safety of Stabolaz Gorge. Even so the vast majority of these droids were too slow or else to badly misplaced to make a successful escape and amid the gale of fire power that followed many more were cut down before they had the chance to save themselves.

Only the Magna Guards directly ignored the order outright, for despite the fact that there were now only two of them left at Liberty and there was absolutely no chance of survival for them if they stayed the two droids decided instinctively to remain loyal to their programming and commanders training. As such the pair threw themselves recklessly at the front lines, wildly thrashing and stabbing in all directions as they fought like a pair of demons, with no comprehension or regard for personal safety nor self-preservation. Theirs was a tale as old as the concept of war itself, in which the brave few stood by choosing to stay and fight so that their commander would have a chance at flight, even at the cost to their own lives.

After a few tense minutes in which scores of Republic soldiers were left dead or dying in their wake, the droid bodyguards got their wish. Amid a hail of blaster bolts and combat weapons, one of the droids struck out furtively at the surrounding warriors swinging his elongated weapon both skilfully and dangerously, whilst at the same time his comrade duelled one on with the Devaronian Jedi forcing the surrounding guardsmen to back off lest they get caught up and actually injure their commander instead.

As such the clone and Yam'rii soldiers focused their intention squarely upon the former of the two droid combatants, and Commander Conan was their shouting to any of the warriors brave enough to stand within twelve feet of the surviving droid as well as any others not brave enough to come any closer. "Come on!" he shouted desperately as he watched several of the troopers blaster bolts tear across the droids lower leg causing the soldier to stagger slightly and hobble feebly as he fell into a crouched position. "Bring it down! Bring it down! BRING IT DOWN!" Conan roared as he and his men launched several more shots at the battle droids armour though these light scrapping shoots appeared to cause little hindrance. His warriors were listening and amid a brief pause one of them charged forwards at the Magna Guard something clutched tightly within the palm of his right hand.

The droid straightened up and threw the clone soldier off him even as he lunged, causing the man to topple into the mud with a grunt six feet away, but not before the clone had succeeded in his objective. Lodged within the droids thorax, was a thermal detonator, held in place by an opening which had been created during the exulting melee. The droid shrieked and desperately clawed at the grenade, realising what was going to happen to him, and a second later a small explosion tore the vital circuitry out of his thorax and he toppled face down into the mud, decommissioned before he even hit the ground. Next to him his counterpart initiated a series of complex defensive style moves as he continued to initiate his duel with the smaller Devaronian. The droids defensive moves were unparalleled and succeeded in hampering the experienced Jedi's combat style, even as he switched from Niman to Shii-Cho.

Frustrated Soltark's face contorted and he released his two hand hold upon his lightsaber, using his now free hand to call upon the force, giving the droid a brief short clout to the head with a small concentrated force wave. The sudden gong made the droid falter and that was all that Soltark needed. His first and second strikes knocked the blade swinging it out of harms way before finally, he followed through with a third strike which found its mark severing the droids head from its body leaving it decapitated. Yet even so the disembodied torso refused to go down as Soltark had expected and much to everyone's astonishment the droid kept fighting initiating a few strikes back of his own, which would almost certainly have found their target had Soltark not brought his weapon round to intercept them. Frustrated and anguished now the Jedi knight was forced to take up his lightsaber once more and carved the droids remaining limbs off so that he finally fell to the ground in pieces.

Now satisfied that his opponent was finally dead, Soltark Romalta snorted with a defiant nod of his head. All resounding spectators cheered and applauded, and a sense of jubilation rang in the air. It was over! The Republic had won!

Yet its soldiers did not celebrate, not earnestly anyway, instead with a great sense of confusion took over Liberty's garrison, as they watched the commanding Jedi rush over to the forefront of the barricade so as to stare out across the open plain. Ignoring the bodies that now littered the rain soaked landscape he searched desperately for any sign, any trepidation as to the location of his true quarry. He found none, there was no sign, across this forsaken landscape. His senses had not deceived him, the force had not lied to General Grievous had fled, his padawan's killer had fallen back just like the coward he was. The only location he could have fled to was towards his base, which the Devaronian knight knew to be somewhere out there, between Liberty and Banen . There was no chance of Grievous getting back to his own establishment at the later, it was too far, and the detailed reports from earlier indicated that the cyborg was bringing the vast majority of his army with him, in a direction aimed towards Stabolaz and the viewing beyond it.

The rest of the army now came up alongside Soltark, clone and Yam'rii riflemen fighting and shovelling each other to get into a decent fighting position so that they might be able to see some action, if the situation called for it, whilst also enabling them to hear what their commander was saying. From the desperate cries and grunts of some of them it was clear that they had come to the same realisations that he had and were now itching to climb over barricade, to go after General Grievous and bring about an end to his campaign at last.

Only the cries of commanders such as Conan kept the Republic lines from advancing, "Hold the line! HOLD THE LINE!" they cried out, as they waited for instruction before acting. The clones strong disciplinarian kept them at bay, but the Huk insectoids looked relatively mutinous about being ordered about by a clone. Soltark shared their sentiment and although every inch of his fibre of his being willed him to deviate away from the directive he knew obligingly what he must do. His body had become numb now from the cold, and his cloak and underlying attire was now rain soaked, Soltark was pretty certain that his own soldiers were now pretty much in the same state. He turned swiftly upon Commander Conan and other nearby clone / Yam'rii officers, as he began issuing out orders. "Get a trio of gunships ready. I want to know the exact location of the enemies main establishment, tell them to scout of all viable locations and to search for General Grievous. [A group of command troopers hurried off, fighting their way through the crowd to carry out his orders]. Get me in direct contact with General Koth at once, he must be alerted to our situation. Meanwhile continued to maintain watch over the area, nobody is to advance except on my order!"

Meanwhile, Grievous, who had sensed the deaths of his surviving allies through his network connections, knew that the battle at Liberty Base was over. Crouched low over his saddle, the cyborg snarled slightly as his eyes darted in either direction ignoring the heavy rain drops as they ran down his metallic forehead and into his eyes, eyes which narrowed as he stared intently upon the dark crevices and exposures that made up Stabolaz's cliff face, contemplating aspects that only he was vaguely aware of. The greater the distance he put between himself and Liberty, so the distain in his eyes faded to be replaced by a look of malicious triumph. A small chuckle escaped from his vocal replicators, though couple with the wet conditions it did not take much to aggravate his lungs.

The cough subsided as he reached the Stabolaz encampment, just a few minutes after he left Liberty. Contrary to when he left the Kaleesh cyborg found everyone available soldier waiting for him in combat stance, their weapons drawn, ready to do combat battle. A combined might of nearly three and a half thousand kolkpravis and battle droids, ready to do battle with the survivors of another coalition army, about twice their number.

A pair of kolkpravis rushed forwards to take the reins of Grievous steed once more. Grievous threw it to them and jumped down his taloned feet landing in the wet soaked landscape with a brief squelch. A clap of thunder and flash of lightening echoed overhead as the soldiers led the snarling steed away to join a mass of others not far behind, and the Kaleesh warlords and other commanders harried over to check upon their commanders status. There was no sign, of Sk'ar though, his figure was strangely absent from the proceedings.

"How did it go Lord Qymaen?" said a spindly Kaleesh warlord with a frail frame, clutching at a broad scythed spear.

"As well as could be expected, and do not call me that" the droid General snapped back, harshly. "It's General Grievous now!"

"But my Lord …" a second voice butted in this one female and belonging to the same warlord whom Grievous had saved at his first engagement on Kalee, upon the Fields of Banen. She stepped forwards, looking positively concerned, "What has happened to you? We were all so concerned, where are the rest of your troops?" she inquired finally realising that he had come alone. There was genuine concern in her voice, but Grievous didn't notice this.

"See for yourself" he said simply turning to point out across the bleak, soaked landscape. Another clap of thunder issued overhead as the first few battle droids came into focus to arrive on the scene. Panting heavily and clutching at aching circuitry the droids fear carried them through into the establishment, where only amongst the comforts and support of greater numbers did they finally slow down. Enabling themselves a few moments to recover the droids teetered at a painful trot, marching up to take position among the larger ranks gathered behind Grievous.

Everyone expected a great trickle like the rain around them, but as a unit of five droids came in after fifteen or so others made it past into comparative safety Grievous huffed shamedly. This brief lapse was the only sign he gave that he expected no others, and the Kaleesh high lords recognised this. "There are so few …" the same Kaleesh warlord breathed disbelievingly as she surveyed the last small number of battle droids making their desperate attempt to traverse Stabolaz and make it back to the relative safety of their establishment before any further dangers beset upon them. "So few of you have returned, my lord" she added contemplating the number of warriors who had set out with Grievous less than an hour ago. Grievous said nothing, but merely chuckled, pausing slightly to unleash a small series of fitting coughs, ignoring the fact that a few of his kolkpravis were exchanging worried glances.

"Sir what of the Republic army?" asked a second warlord inquired, a note of panic hanging in her voice, "They are bound to come after us now, aren't they?"

"Yes I expect they are" Grievous said straightening up to his full intimidating height now that his coughing had subsided. It was replaced by a chortle instead, "In fact" he proclaimed now crossing his arms over his chest, "You might say that I am counting on it!" he barked simply, as if this factor explained everything.

As if in response to this challenge a nearby battle droid stepped forward bearing news of what, to everyone but Grievous sounded of ill fated tidings. "Sir, K6D7 reports enemy aircraft located across target south!"

The other commanders looked shocked by this outburst, Grievous meanwhile seemed nothing more than inquisitive. "How many?"

"Three sir. References indicate they should be flying over head within the next few seconds". Sure enough a moment later, the unmistakeable sound of fighter engines emanated from overhead. It was just possible to make out the three LAAT style craft make their way past the Stabolaz garrison and fly overhead. The was no lightening to light up the armies temporarily, but Grievous was certain that the pilot craft had seen them, even in the darkened spectacle it would be almost impossible to miss out a group formation of that size. Yet even so he merely shook his head disappointedly.

"Ha, the crazy fools" he spat harshly to himself, before turning to face his troops who were now eyeing him expectantly. "Tell Rogue Squadron to intercept them. I want those pilots taken out before they can relay to much information about our position to the enemy command. As for the rest of you" Grievous proclaimed loudly as the droid unit hurried off to carry out his edict, "all troops prepare for battle. I expect that the Republic will be arriving on mass soon."

The surrounding kolkpravis and battle droids appeared horrified by this declaration, and even the Magna Guards exchanged curious glances. The Kaleesh warlords knew enough about composure to show no visible signs of unease, but even so fear broiled up inside them by the certainty of Grievous' command. "My, my Lord. If - if I, – if I might be so bold to say so" asked the fist female warlord a little to directly, "What does this mean for us, sir?"

Grievous leered as he stared out across Stabolaz's landscape, the rain billowing down in torrents around him and the wind whipping up his cloak as he said it. It made him appear immaterial, like some vision cast up from the underworld, rather than a living being. "It means" he declared happily, "that everything is going as planned!"

---

A horde of vulture droids zoomed past the lurking hull of the Vengeful Stars great bulk, making off for the Star Destroyer parameters instead. If the space battle had been hectic before, now it was completely chaotic. The two sides had finally shifted their space cruisers from long range defensive into short range offensive positions and the capital ships were now advancing at a steady pace towards each other. Currently the course was set so that the Lucrehulk would be stationed on the eastern side of the smaller Star Destroyer Harbinger whilst the Providence class cruiser would find itself immersed on the two fronts between Valiant and Harbinger.

The surviving Muunulist frigate was keeping away from the main cruisers spectacle, coming up behind the rear of the Star formation, keeping itself out of effective battle range whilst harassing the enemy lines with long range ion fire. Its turret defences however, were constantly unleashing salvos of their own fire here and there as it tried to dislodge the irritating gnat like star fighter's which were constantly pummelling its own lines, a feight now reflected by all off the cruisers involved. By now the surviving five ships had all sustained collateral damage and fires bellowed from various sections across their hull. But they were not out for the count yet, and a battle of this scale was not going to be won through minor scrapes and scuffles. It could only be decided with the complete and destruction of one sides forces, which included all of its stationary crews and on boards star fighters. So far, the shields were holding and neither side had managed to deliver the killer blow. Only if the cruisers got close enough to engage in broadside count, did it appear that the matter would finally be resolved.

All of that was about to change!

As the Vulture droid squadron zoomed past they encountered a large pod of Republic star fighter, of the ARC category. The unit launched a series of blaster rounds and proton torpedo's and succeeded in taking out a few of the incoming squadron but the majority of the fighters ducked and wove so that despite their tight formation they flew straight past and ended up taking position behind the enemy unit. The acting command droid lifted his head up, so as to turn his optics as best he could, and keep the enemy in sight, knowing full well what was about to befall the regiments of his squadron.

Sure enough paralleled behind him the Republican squad leader gave the command. "All wings deviate from present course, lock S foils in attack position. Take those droid fighters out!" Being pure bred clones of the grand army the pilots did not hesitate. Within the span of a few heartbeats the ships all pivoted and started descending on mass upon the smaller Vulture units. Like them, the droid star fighters tried weaving about the battle field trying desperately to shake off and outmanoeuvre their opponents. Despite their capability of programming and advanced computer systems however, the droids were ultimately no match for the harden warriors piloting the enemy fighters. Though a few Vulture droids deviated and successfully got behind the enemy units taking a few of them out even as their associates were destroyed, the ARC's rear mounted turret crews insured that this action was carried out in vain.

The last Vulture droid, the units leader ducked and served trying to twist his way across the Star Destroyers surface. Then a penetrating blow caught across his starboard wings and he fell at speed, crashing into the Star Destroyers shields causing him to implode. The Squadron leader was quick to congratulate the surviving members of his squad on a job well done, and despite the situation, the remaining pilots of the Republic fleets Vector squadron and their turret crews couldn't help allowing themselves a small cheer of celebration.

Their jubilation was cut short by a series of turret fire emanating south east of their position. Even as the Star Destroyers defences rushed to their aid, two, three and then four of ARC's were engulfed their smoking remains spiralling downwards to meet the same fate as the enemy vulture droids. A voice shouted over the communication systems, "SIR LOOK AT THE PORT BOW!" Managing to maintain control over the spacecraft's main steering rod, Vector ones pilot managed to glance over his shoulder. Barely able to look past his turret pilot the man felt his blood chill. "Oh my God" he gasped and with his mind half focused he turned back to the control panel his fist slamming against the holo-terminal.

"Vector Squadron to Base One" he shouted desperately trying to manoeuvre his craft to gain both a better altitude and position.

"We are receiving you loud and clear soldier what is the situation out there, our sensors are picking up large concentration of enemy fighters relative to your position!"

"Affirmative Admiral" the pilot shouted back. "We have visual contact with enemy, lots of them but it's not just fighters" the pilot turned his head left and right watching as fighters within his squadron were cut down in advance of the enemies wake. "Count multiple Tri and Vulture pilots amid mass gale of other units. Ships are of HMP design, twenty two of them to twenty six escort crafts. CLOSING, CLOSE – NO!" Unable to multitask and owing to the sheer of enemy vehicles behind him the pilots skills failed him and he was finally consumed.

Namlick, took his hand away from the communication button, knowing full well he didn't need to hold onto it any longer. "Twenty two of them?!" a clone marines voice emanated from nearby.

"That's right son" said Admiral Namlick who had finally disengaged himself from terminal duty and was now standing by the main screens as all remain crews continued to bustle and work around him. "We have them here on scanners [he gestured to the relevant screens indicating a large red cluster moving paramount to the Valliant's bow] and each one could be carrying up twenty five warriors at a time!"

"That's roughly seven hundred droids" replied a clone hand, who was standing close by.

"I fear that you are right" Namlick acknowledged, eyes blazing now as he watched the large mass split into two separate files, one heading for the left, towards Harbinger. The other for starboard and his own lines. Fire rekindled within him and the Admiral knew instinctively what he must do.

"Captain" he said briskly to the standing officers, "put all sections on alert. Get your troops ready for battle, and make sure all units of A platoon respond relative to my command. Tell the rest to concentrate in Bay's two and three, those are their priorities a stat!"

"Yes sir!" the clone marine shouted without hesitation and with that he and the other members of his branch hurried out to carry out their commanders orders. Namlick himself remained by the stationary console, tapping the interface to the tannoy system for what must have been the umpteenth time thus far.

"Attention this is Admiral Namlick, all hands brace yourselves. We are about to get hit by enemy boarding craft at stages two to three. I want all available to hands to converge on relevant positions, that includes pilots as well. Secondary units of A platoon you are to meet me in hangar bay station one on the double. I want to be certain that this field at least is kept open to us, we can't take the chance that our uninvited guests may attempt to create a boarding pass for later reinforcements. Captain Tyson will take command of bridge operations, until I am certain that all wings are secure, so until them all relay orders are to be carried out through him [he paused briefly to smile at the young man who stood briskly to the impart an acknowledging salute before getting back to his duty]. Keep it strong boys our neighbours on the ground have promised us reinforcements, just hold out till they arrive. Namlick out!"

Stealing himself against the partial lie, Namlick braced himself. The truth was that the Republic units under the Jedi at Liberty had made no such promises, at least not straight away, not whilst they were dealing with enemy forces of their own. For the briefest of seconds Namlick wondered how things were unfolding now, how were the droid and Kaleesh units operating under the command of General Grievous, and what were the Republic soldiers on the ground doing to alleviate the problems imposed by him? Grievous may be cowardly and boastful but he was by no means ineffective.

A brief smile touched the commanders lips as he considered this. Surely he was just exaggerating things, Grievous did not have the means to overrun their ground forces, intelligence scans had shown this. Even with the Kaleesh warriors behind him there was no way for the cybernetic commander to stop a direct onslaught from such a vastly powerful coalition, an army which up until now had swept aside all forces sent to destroy it. That's right the ground forces were safe enough, under the sufficient command of the Jedi.

Right now his priorities lay with his own forces here in space. It was too late to launch boarding parties of their own, but Namlick was certain that his numerically superior force of nearly three to one now would have no problem in holding back and belaying the enemy until necessary reinforcements arrived. Only then when everything was secured would they launch a counter offensive, destroying the enemy fleet and finally bring this forsaken campaign to an end.

Making a mental note to take an extended rest period after the battle was over Namlick made his way out of the command centre, bringing two junior officers with him for moral gallantry support. As he left the fleet commander drew his pistol, for though he left the vicinity it was impossible to mistake the worried cries as the first few reports came in indicating the lead boarding craft had breached the hangar bay's magnetic shield and made landfall. The Kalee Space battle had indeed taken a whole new turn and Namlick was determined to see that it went the Republics way!

---

Of course whilst Namlick was dealing with the problems besetting the Republic forces above Kalee, on the planets surface hell could only unfold once the proper authorisation was given. To do that, permission to advance needed to come from General Koth, stationed many miles away from Liberty bastion at Alpha station.

In contrast to Liberty, the situation at Shrupak, the Republics Alpha base was one of relative ease and calm. It was true that the thousand clone and Yam'rii troopers that made up the garrison here maintained a constant vigil, yet despite the fact that they were aware that enemy forces were still out there somewhere, recent reports indicated that the main concentration of Grievous' army was still several kilometres to the south stationed at Liberty.

The troopers couldn't risk leaving lest they leave Alpha quadrant exposed, besides most of the transportation shuttles had been necessarily stationed at Liberty in any case, so by the time it took them to traverse the steppes windy roads and hampering gorges the battle would almost certainly be concluded by that point. So for that reason, the troopers had allowed themselves to turn away from standard combat practices, and despite the fact that reports had not yet come in confirm whether the Separatists secondary divisions had made contact with Echo establishment, the Republic soldiers barely paid it any attention as they permitted themselves a tiny shred of relaxation. Conversations could be heard over the distant rumble of thunder and in the cases were soldiers were not patrolling or cooking rations were being distributed, laughter could be heard as troopers gambled, exchanged funny stories and in some cases held mock wrestling matches with each other despite the slippery conditions. The supervising officials allowed this to happen so as to spur the moral of their men whilst making sure that they were ready to move out or take up arms if the situation called for it. Of course they like their comrades did not expect this to happen.

Inside the station bunker, on the right side of the Shrupak temple however, it was an entirely different story. Like Namlick had been moments ago, the Republics senior commanders were all gathered around a command nodule. Koth, Mal, Derm, Willis and several more command officials were there in person. Master Sashi and Jedi Knight Kolback were stationed at Echo and Beta base respectively and as such were communicating with the others via a holo-terminal. Soltark Romalta, Captain Conan and a spindly Yam'rii Commanders projections emanated from the main nodule, filling the superiors in on the details.

"You are certain that he has retreated?" Master Koth was asking.

"Yes sir, there is no sign of a body sir, not Grievous or the large mount he was riding. Several of my men report seeing General Grievous flee the battle field, heading back the way he came" Conan affirmed though it was difficult to hear his voice over the sound of the raging storm. All three of the sentient's projections indicated that the warriors were now drenched and cold but they crowded round listening intently at their commanders call.

"Well, that is all very well knowing commander" came the dark agitated tone of General Mal, "but I still don't see what it is that are you waiting for then. Get after him why don't you and be done with it!" Mal' voice, rose becoming more and more high pitched as he spoke, further indication that despite the good news, the insectoid was still angry.

The Yam'rii commander on the holo-net nodded and made a move to head off screen but Soltark stopped him with his free hand as another voice added to the fray. "Hold that thought a moment General" came the ensuing voice of Kolback Nil'bitmi, "it would be wise to consider all of our options here for a second."

Mal snarled derisively and rounded on the Jedi, "Consider, CONSIDER OUR OPTIONS! What is there to consider? We know full well that this cybernetic commander of your is on the run at the moment and we also know exactly where he is! Didn't you hear the call, DreadWing has found the command post. The mainstay of his army is stationed at Stabolaz not to far from the General's location [he nodded towards Soltark]. They cannot hope to escape in time and we have the sufficient forces left to crush them under our tread's, so what are you waiting for we? Get out there!" Once again the Yam'rii commander motioned in directive but this time it was Master Koth's voice that brought head to his progress.

"Calm yourself General, we do intend to deal with them shortly, I promise you. Right now I just want to consider the factors so that we might know how best to proceed".

"That's right" said the voice of the only female Jedi involved in the spectacle. "General you must calm yourself" she proclaimed, though it wasn't just Mal that she was addressing, Soltark turned his head away slightly. "You are forgetting" Sashi continued "about the other units. The division that Grievous sent out in order to pursue us here at Echo base. There has been no sign of them, what is more we can't …"

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT SOME FORGOTTEN UNIT!" Mal cut across her hologram, "So what if another division is out there somewhere, it is the main principle of the army I am talking about here. So what if some small contingent has gotten lost on route, or been hampered down by bad weather. There mere presence somewhere in these mountains is not any of our concern."

"It is our concern" Sashi countered her voice rising for a second. Then catching herself she closed her eyes momentarily using the force to calm herself before speaking again. "You know full well that our scanners and radar systems are useless in the high peaks and surrounding mountains that dominate these steppes. Just because we can't detect them doesn't mean that they aren't there. Maybe they are as you have said stranded along the route but even so if they are hampered they might be able to turn backwards and arrive upon the battle field and then it might be our own forces who end up in the lurch here."

Mal gritted his 'teeth' angrily, "So what we have the efficient means to deal with them"

"No we don't" Sashi countered but this time it was Soltark who countered before Mal had a chance too. "Begging your pardon Master Sashi" he cried over the holo-com "but I think you will find that we do. Our forces are more than sufficient to crush Grievous unit all by themselves".

"It is not Grievous that I am worried about" Sashi replied, fear and concern that her aspects were not being listened to was now paramount in her voice. "It is how to apply the army that concerns me, as you said yourself Soltark the cliff face prevents you from contributing the mainstay of the heavy equipment to the battlefield. If we go into the battle it will be only yourself, the clone troopers, Yam'rii, a few lightweight vehicles and whatever weapons the troops are carrying".

"Which is still more than sufficient!" Mal hissed his temper now mounting with each passing second.

"Sir if I may" Commander Willis now spoke directly to Jedi General Koth, garnering the attention of all the Jedi present. "Forgive my vanity but my boys are the best in the business. Even without heavy artillery they are more than capable of dealing with anything this Separatist army throws at them."

"It's not the Separatist army that worries me Commander, it is the mind of the creature in charge of it" the Zarbak declared, with a brief shake of his head. "Grievous may be cowardly and uncompromising but he is a very capable commander and we should not ever…"

Soltark stopped listening to Koth at this point, a soft grunt emanating in his throat that was blankened by the strength of the storm. This small acknowledgement to the dangers brought on by General Grievous, were infuriating to him. He did not bother to try to contain the distain or loathing that boiled up inside him, at the thought that some individual could get away with killing his Padawan and then effectively receive compliments from it. It was just unreal, Soltark understood that now.

Anger broiled through him at the very mention of Grievous' name now, and like Mal Soltark was beginning to capitalise on his mistake. Why did he contact the garrison, why did he need Koth's permission to advance. The garrison at Liberty was under his direct command now, not just Koth's, the Zarbak wasn't even there, he hadn't seen what Grievous had done, and the others were no better. Neither Sashi or Kolback, any of them had ever lost padawan's they did not know or care about what he was going through. Hurrock had been his responsibility not theirs and now he lay dead because of Soltark's mistakes. Now more than anything, he wanted to get out there to meet Grievous in battle so that he might avenge him. Avenge all of the slain padawan's, masters and Jedi knights that Grievous had killed throughout the long war.

He felt a pair of eyes drilling into and the Devaronian looked up to see that whilst Koth was arguing to both Willis and Mal, Sashi was staring straight at him. Like him the human female was ignoring the situation going on around them. General Mal was now shouting something directly at Koth who remained quite calm. Unable to get a response Mal rounded on Derm instead as if expecting the cowardly senator to contradict him but of course Derm didn't. Once again the female ignored this, her attention was focused squarely upon Soltark Romalta, who did not bother to hide the look of anger and anguish now riddled across his face.

Her concern was understandable, even appreciable. She knew what he expected, the Devaronian male had only contacted Koth out necessity. The willingness to receive his orders, and go after the individual that had slain his Padawan, yet that same willingness had faded fast and was now all but consumed by a desire for vengeance. With every passing second the Devaronian felt the urge to break away from his command and go after Grievous of his own accord. This and all the other factors he felt were showing on his face, and in his gaze, Soltark knew it, yet still he did not hide them.

What was even more painful was the way Sashi looked at him in return. A look of imploring, pleading for him to stay on the path of light and regain control of the situation around him. Her eyes told it all, and what was more despite the vast distance that now separated them Soltark seemed to sense what she was trying to say, perhaps the force was indeed telling him. Please Soltark, don't give into your anger. Murder is not the way of the code, not the way of the Jedi. Do not let your hate for Grievous consume you or you yourself will be destroyed!

The pair were finally brought out their intent concentration by General Mal shouting something very loudly, in direction of the surrounding officers again. "THEN LET US TAKE THE FIGHT TO THEM. SMASH OUR WAY THROUGH BEFORE THEY HAVE A CHANCE TO REFORM!"

"Sir he's right" Commander Willis protested, "we've got General Grievous surrounded, his forces are cornered. If we can capture or destroy him we can not only resolve the situation here, but perhaps bring about an end to this blasted war before any more of us have to die!"

Koth hesitated, begrudgingly admitting that the soldier did have a point. Most of the commanders watched him anxiously, whilst Sashi looked on worriedly. She was frightened now, there was no denying it. She may not be the wisest nor the strongest member of the Jedi order, but she was compassionate, and her connection to the force was strong. Right now it was telling her not to let the army act, not to let Soltark Romalta take the army out of Liberty bastion. If he did then something was going to go wrong, she just knew it.

Her heart was now pounding, thumping hard against her ribs as she looked at General Koth, the one figure that she had no command over. If he gave the order then everything was lost. She was pleased to see though that the man had a look of confusion on his face, an indication that he was weighing up the possibilities, and that currently he seemed to be of two minds. A few heartbeats latter Koth's features relaxed and he made to speak.

Sashi's heart leapt as from his tone she sensed a speech that wavered in her favour. He had only just started to announce his decision, however, when another cry caught him out. The voice came from a Republic clone trooper, stationed at a nearby command terminal, one of many erected in the bunker so as to establish a communication and sentry lines which included those being sent from Echo and Beta establishment. "Sir, we just received word. DreadWing unit has been engaged by a squadron of droid fighters south east of Grievous' position"

"South east?"

"Yes sir. DreadWing 1 reported that they were going to scout out position relative to the Fields of Banen sir, see if there were any surprises left for our ground forces along the route. Only things is they encountered heavy fire from large numbers of tank fire droids and spider tanks. Then a unit of twenty vulture droids showed up. We remained in contact until now when the transmission went dead. We have no idea where the units will be heading now sir but just thought you'd like to know!" and he turned back around to carry on with other tasks which required his attention.

For a moment all was quiet within the command bunker, aside from the buzzing and clicks of operations of computer terminals and the storm outside. The first solid silence to transpire since Republic command received transmission from Commander Soltark to notify them of General Grievous attack and retreated less than eight minutes ago. Then, a loud piercing shriek broke the silence, a terrifying blood curdling, bone numbing shrill that echoed throughout the whole establishment. Wheeling about to face the other officers General Mal, head faced up towards the sky continued to shriek, a livid expression on his face. Shaking all over and with his pronged hands clenched out in front of him the insectoid broke off the noise and rounded on General Koth.

"THAT IS IT!" he shouted incessantly slamming his hands down on the computer screen. "THEY HAVE JUST KILLED ANOTHER SET OF YOUR WARRIORS BECAUSE OF YOUR INDESCISVE ACTION! WELL I WILL NOT TAKE IT ANY LONGER! IF YOU WILL NOT GIVE THE ORDER TO TAKE ACTION THEN I WILL!" With that the Yam'rii soldier rounded on the holo-terminal, and gave an order that would affect the entire outcome, not just of the battle, but of everything to transpire.

"COMMANDER" he bellowed the anger still present in his voice, pointing at the projection of his subordinate with a taloned finger. "You tell every Huk soldier out there, that I will personally kill any one of them that refuses to advance beyond that station in the next five parsecs. We have held on long enough. Now get out there and crush those incessant droid units and their cold blooded allies."

Sashi's blood chilled, her heart plummeted in her stomach. There was a short pause, then barely more than a second later, "You too Conan" came the voice of Commander Willis. "Keep three full squadrons behind to defend the station under your command, then order all remaining units to advance."

"NO!" Sashi's scream came too late. A smile had taken over Soltark's features. If the army was to advance then he would have to go along with it. It made no sense for the Jedi to stay behind now, not when the rest of his army had just been ordered to advance on the enemy position. He didn't need General Koth's command order now, for it was irrelevant. With a brisk nod Soltark Romalta deactivated the holo-pad and the image of Liberties three commanders went blank. Koth looked utterly abashed, astounded at the situation, imbalanced perhaps by the fact that two of his fellow commanders had acted of their own accord without his authorisation. He soon realised that there was nothing more he could do about it now, Liberty's commanders had their orders and would respond no further.

Commander Willis' expression along with those of his fellow clones was hidden underneath by their helmets, but their postures indicated a sense of pride at having finally accomplished something. Mal seemed to be share this sense of relief that his troops had now finally taken action and was taking deep calming breaths as he tried to recompose himself. Indeed he was stooped so that it briefly made him seem none intimidating, so that when he turned to look back at his compatriot Derm gave him a full meaningful smile suggesting he had done the right thing.

Kolback looked unsure how about how to feel, like Koth the Anx was of two minds on the one hand it was pleasing that they had taken action to stave off General Grievous' influences here upon Kalee. On the other hand they would not know for certain how the battle had turned out until the after action report came in and was worried about how many more forces their already limited Republic companies were bound to lose in the process of wiping Grievous out. Even so his reaction (he now noticed) was nothing compared to the one given by Master Sashi Betrini.

Hunched over with her head in her hands the woman was crying, writhing in what was unmistakable anguish. Utterly devastated, the female raged and wailed at the outcome, furious that nobody had listened to her premonitions and outcries despite the many plea's. All eyes were upon her, but she never once looked up. "You fools" she hissed audibly between her tear stained fingers, aimed at no one in particular.

"You blind, murderous fools!"

---

At the forefront of Liberty Soltark Romalta issued commands to his remaining officers and word spread quickly through the ranks, jubilation and excitement coursing through every soldier. Finally, after six long, rain soaked minutes of standing still they were finally going to take action, and fear was suddenly put in the minority character as the units braced themselves for the charge. Commander Conan was organising those he would keep behind, the mainstay of the bases turret defenders and landing bay guards, whilst the rest of the army moved on.

Then marching to the forefront Soltark leapt perfectly balanced onto the paramount. Here the Jedi shed aside his thick brown robes, to reveal the typical Jedi cloth attire he wore underneath. From around his belt he took a hold of a soaked metal hilt and activated his lightsaber. Casting a quick look around him the Devaronian smiled, pleased as he held the blade aloft to see that many of his clone and Yam'rii soldiers already had their armaments cocked and ready.

The units cheered, raising their weapons over head hailing at their commanders vitality, willingness to lead them. At this moment with the prospects of battle having washed over them Liberty's army was ready to dish out violence. To offer and destruction death to those who deserved it and to bring about vengeance to those whose blood had been shed unjustly.

"Ready!" Soltark cried over the persisting storm. A flash of lightening lit up his outline as the Devaronian swung his lightsaber in a graceful arc, directing his blade at the small carapace in front of them, turning away from his troops. "FORWARD!" Soltark cried and he himself lead the charge, setting off full pelt he set off in the direction of the enemy encampment. His troops still cheering and jubilant scaled the walls just behind him, leaping over the stone fences into the mud soaked plains beneath them. Within seconds a vast crowd was gathering alongside Liberty's southern edges, as warriors fought desperately to make their way through the narrow crevices in order to reach their foe.

The spectacle was one of great magnitude and from a distance would have been a great splendour to behold. And indeed it was seen, through three sets of inhumane eyes, watching from both sides of the scenario. Some observed from an angle set alongside Liberty as the great mound started to shrink as Liberty's heavy equipment was left largely abandoned, necessitating others to spur yet more soldiers on so as to carry out their own mission. Others, watched from the other side of the visual, surveying the scene as the Jedi and his warriors emerged out onto Stabolaz at last. There they waited to form a decent enough battle line which stretched out at its maximum perimeter's to no more than fifty or so individuals. Then the Republic force surged forwards, Soltark Romalta at their front, a look of triumph on his face. Behind him a blurry mixture of green and white soldiers followed in his wake, like a great big tidal wave.

---

Thunder and lightning clapped overhead, but Grievous did not break his stance. Crouched low as he was, the cyborgs presence was only made known by the presence of his of his large billowing cape, which stretched out behind him in the breeze. Stooped low and stationary, the cyborgs were closed, his right hand pressed flatly against the grounds surface, his left resting against his angled knee cap. He seemed to be resting but this was his way of preparing a feight that he always practiced before going into battle on Kalee, a special rite to beseech the will of his ancestors and gods. One that he would reserve for nowhere else in the galaxy except on the sanctuary of his home planet. He sat alone, everyone else stood around, completely calm and at ease. The wind buffeted and whipped up around him, billowing his cloak outwards and the rain continued to deposit its cool moisture against his eyelids. Yet Grievous appeared nonchalant.

Then without warning his eyes shot open, and his head wiped up. The droid that came running up to his side had barely spoken up when Grievous acted. "They are coming!" he said simply rising to his. The effect was instantaneous, all around him kolkpravis and battle droids broke from their inconsistent mutterings and anxieties and stood ready. Falling into line behind him, they took up position behind the flimsy wooden barricades so pitiful and insubstantial next to the robust stone Republic ones or else braced themselves against high wooden platforms that had been hastily assembled and rearranged into key locations across Stabolaz's eastern mark. Grievous did not consider this as two fresh Magna Guards came up to take position on either side of him bringing their electronic weapons to life with an audible hiss, whilst other combat units both organic and droid took up position behind him, amid the sway of long range units.

Grievous paid them no heed, and kept his gaze firmly ahead. Reaching into the rim of his cloak he drew out a blue tinted lightsaber which he activated promptly. He stood up straight, eyes never wavering from the terrain ahead. Lightening lit up the area a few times, and he felt hot steamy breath emanate from behind him. His generals had mounted up for all of them to see, the Roggwart's snarl confirmed that, but Grievous ignored it even as the rider honed it back in. He remained dismounted for now, his steed taken up by another temporarily, the glow of his lightsaber was the only thing that gave his position away. Aside from this all was silent on the Separatist side of Stabolaz. The moment of truth had finally arrived for them, all of them but Grievous foremost. For the cyborg this encounter meant one of two things; either he was about to achieve the impossible and lead his troops to a glorious well deserved victory or die in the attempt.

Grievous heard the Republic soldiers long before he saw them, even over the pounding storm it was impossible to mistake the ominous sound of approaching footsteps, the high rumble indicated that the soldiers were running, nor could one avoid the menacing rattle of a dozen war cries echoed every two to three seconds emanating somewhere north of their current position. Then at last he saw them, the first individuals worked their way around the meander in the gorge pathway, carved up between the two ancient levees. The tide grew bigger, and there it lay, a vast array of nearly seven thousand troops comprised mainly of Yam'rii but with a few thousand clone soldiers packed tightly into the mix as well. As the army drew closer, Grievous noticed another figure, just partially visible at the forefront, a blue bladed instrument clutched tightly in one of its hands. So the Jedi intended to take part in the battle as well, how quaint!

Grievous eyebrows furrowed with concentration now, he raised his own blue bladed weapon high up into the air. In the confined space it was possible to make out the resounding clicks that meet this response. His eyes narrowed even tighter, the units were closing in now, they were just over fifty yards away, forty five, forty. He brought the blade slashing downwards, but otherwise did not shift so much as a servo. In response kolkpravis and battle droids opened fire upon the enemy ranks. Their firing pattern was random and disorganised, but against the advancing wave it did not matter. Munition rounds and blaster bolts quickly found their marks, tearing through carapace and armour alike into the Republic lines causing warriors to topple over in droves, some actually knocked or trip up comrades as they fell into the mud, alive and dead alike who disappeared from site, only to be trampled underfoot by the incessant horde.

The effects however, it became clear were barely felt, the casualties that the Republic lines sustained under the Separatist barrage were minimal at most, as for every warrior they lost, another man moved forwards to take his place. Never wavering or faltering the legions continued to draw ever closer to their ancient foes. Only when they got to within thirty feet of them did the majority of the line halt entirely, these warriors (who mainly wielded long range gear) simultaneously raised their carbines, blaster rifles and other equipment, and responded to the Separatists onset.

Bodies began to toppling from every angle, as both sides now sustained casualties, Grievous could see AT RT walkers and speeder bikes making their way forwards, but neither side was letting up, not even for a split second. Both armies had come here for a specific purpose, each soldier within that valley shared that common denominator and as such they were dedicated, highly efficient and professional in manner. To any onlooker though the outcome, would have become apparent, a given, forgone conclusion.

Despite the CIS' best efforts the Republic lines continued to advance, it was a much more steady and controlled pace now, but none the less they it was a stable progression. As the gap closed it was possible to see the malicious smirks upon the Yam'rii' faces, a number of whom, mainly combat divisions rushed forwards intending to engage in melee, though many were cut down before they could even get within necessary range. The steady way with which the clone troopers made headway was almost hypnotic, highly disciplined they made room for any troopers wishing to charge forwards, all the while keeping their attention squarely focused upon the enemy in front of them, working together in tightly packed units.

Even more so it was also possible to make out the solitary figure standing at the deadline of the Republic lines and those who surpassed it. Taller and more darkly clad than any clone trooper the closer he got, the easier it was to make out the eerie, triumphant smile now stretched across the Devaronian's face. Soltark Romalta, hissed gleefully between clenched teeth swinging his lightsaber hastily in all directions, in the applications of Soresu style once more. This simple action, caused great excitement to coarse through him, especially when the deflected rounds found their mark, and owing to his connection to the force, he was able to sense that the majority of the salvo's were successful in this matter.

Soltark Romalta had never felt like this before, though he had seen battle countless times throughout the entirety of the Clone Wars. Yet none of these previous encounters matched to anything, in the revelation or glorification he felt in regards to this massacre. That was what it was, yes. This was not even a proper battle, it came nothing close by that true definition. This was nothing more than a clean up operation to ensure the utter annihilation of the Separatist movement here upon Kalee.

These battle droids were nothing to care about as they were not even proper life forms, just means to an end, almost compatible to his clone troopers, but much less so. There existence was unimportant and he intended to make sure that they died so. As for the Kaleesh's kolkpravis, they were nothing special either. True they were very capable warriors, but in the end their loyalties were flawed.

As with the Huk war the saurician species had chosen to place itself on the wrong side of the war, and despite the ensuing treaties that followed seemed to have learned nothing in regards to their past mistakes. In the end as demonstrated, they had sided with Grievous, making each and every one of the soldiers standing before him responsible in part for the death of his padawan. Soltark intended to make them pay, and was did not care how many of them were brought into the slaughter. Had it been anyone else he might of pitied them, but he had pushed himself beyond that caring now. All that mattered was that these individuals paid for what they did both to him and to Hurok.

His biggest reservations however were reserved for that figure standing at the forefront of the Separatist formation. He was pleased to see now that the Separatist forces were pushing backwards now, not retreating but none the less giving ground. Kolkpravis and battle droids (mainly B1's) were shuffling away from the ensuing tide, pressing up against barricades or else ducking behind rocky terrain. It made little difference now, Soltark realised with a sneer. The sheer quantity of his army meant that the tide would eventually consume them, all would be routed and if necessary slaughtered. Then and only then would Soltark attend to the matter at hand. With the aid of his troops he would tend to Grievous, slaying the mighty cyborg enabling the Huk to claim their victory and avenge their people. Just like he would avenge his padawan.

There was no escape for the 'so called' famed cyborg now.

There was no escape for any of them at that matter. The Separatist cause on Kalee, was done now!

It was finished ...

... or at least, that was what General Grievous wanted them to believe!

Grievous held his ground at Stabolaz, not giving any ground, neither were his MagnaGuard's, they stood loyally at the forefront of the army, next to their commander. All three of them watching the situation unfold with unwavering attention and mounting tension. About them, the first lines of his grand army were beginning to crumble, the remainders were falling back or dying all around him. Grievous did not care however, this was all a necessary part of his battle plan, he needed this to happen, much as it pained him to watch fellow brethren die. He cared little for the mounting droids but his Kaleesh kolkpravis were precious too him and he intended to save as many lives as possible. At the same time though it was necessary to draw the Republic in further, to let the foolish gambits actually believe they had a chance of winning, therefore a few casualties were inevitable.

He carried on fighting, clutching at the hilt of his lightsaber, which he held paramount to the enemy line, using its full rotation to direct as much of the incoming fire back as possible. Grievous was not like Soltark Romalta in his style, he could not use the force to deflect incoming fire rounds, instead his actions was as simple as it was effective. Thanks to the circuitry placed within his armour Grievous could rotate his mechanical fists around in a full three hundred and sixty degree circle, at a high enough velocity to deflect the blaster bolts through sheer ferocity alone. Troopers quailed under his wake even as they continued to draw in closer, yet for all this time Grievous kept his eyes focused directly ahead.

It would be soon now, very soon, he was certain of it. All that he waited for now was that crucial moment. The specified moment at which the signal would be given!

That would be the sign to attack!

---

The last few helmsmen had made their way out of Liberty bastion now, held up only by the two AT RT walkers ambling their way past the remainder Liberty's defending garrison and into the rear mount of Stabolaz Gorge. The hundred or so guardsmen left under the supervision of Commander Conan stood by tentatively watching as the last few stragglers made their way out of sight and into the passageway. Conan's clone soldiers exchanged glances nodding to each other as they did so. The weather was still bad, but the rain did at last seem to finally be easing off. With the promise of good weather ahead and the inevitable victory to follow, the infantrymen couldn't help recognising the great amount of fortune that they now had yet to look forward to. in the coming hours, a well earned rest, nice hot meal and a chance to acknowledge their triumph were just some of the luxuries that soldiers cravings desired to be satisfied.

It was perhaps the thought of these comforts which made commander Conan march across the front lines ensuring that his soldiers concentration remained focused squarely on the situation in front of them. So the veterans remained in standby, their attention kept concentrated on the entrance to Stabolaz, because as Conan reminded them, anything could happen!

As they continued to idle, the soldiers failed to notice that a solitary figure had now risen up in silence and stood back, watching them. Positioned adjacent to a small enclave and standing astride a small rocky outcrop which at its peek led deep into the heart of Liberty, the MagnaGuard's Izvoshra style cloak whipped around behind him as he stood facing the enemy guards rear from afar. He lowered the set of binoculars held up to his optics, his weapon clutched tightly within the other forelimb. Setting the goggles down, his now free hand stretched conspicuously towards his belt.

Below the vast tide of Clone / Yam'rii troopers emerging onto Stabolaz had subsided now, the majority of its squadrons had moved forwards by now into the rear of the expanding horde, which continued to press forwards. Only a few sentries remained behind offering words of encouragement as they spurred the last few stragglers onward.

"That's it lads. Come on step lively! Let's move on we've got a battle to win here!" were just some of the examples. As they saw the last few arrivals a member of the ten man squadron called out that they were the last, and that all other soldiers were now accounted for. The AT RT's marched alongside them, their winding gears making vast echoing noises in the confines of the trench. Yet as they marched forwards to meet up with the watches tiresome, obvious commands, none of the soldiers thought to look downwards. If they had they might just have noticed something strange.

Small little packages about half a metre in diameter were set into various crevices and intervals across the length of the passageway. Some were camouflaged, hidden slightly amongst a small mound of rocks or otherwise pressed tightly into cracks, whilst others were left out more ominously exposed ro the naked eye.

Or at least to anyone who bothered to pay attention to them.

The MagnaGuard had retrieved the device from its shackle, clasping the small object in his hand he casually flicked the safety cap off. At once a small green light lit up across the computer screens and amid the screeches of the AT RT's winding gears a small humming noise could be heard growing louder and louder as the systems charged upwards.

The remote detonation lines had now been set.

The droid pressed the button!

There was a small click, and an explosion rent the skies around Stabolaz obliterating all other sound before it, encompassing even that of the storm. A huge dust cloud sprouted, stretch high into the sky blossoming into a tangible mushroom shaped fire cloud, which stood out even against the darkened counterparts of the blackened sky around it. Job finished the MagnaGuard aimless threw the object away, it was useless to him now. The control fell ominously into the base below it, but the droid had already set off on his endeavour. There were other sources to find, more pressing matters that required his attention, specifically in the direction of Liberty bastion!

The thermal charges did their task well, in rapid series of fires the combined detonation succeeded in dislodging much of the debris and utilising weaknesses in the rock face great swathes of the surrounding gulley came crashing downwards. It was not enough of a fall to completely block the tunnel, but sufficient to ensure that anybody trying to traverse the narrow passageway would be severely hampered up.

---

The sentries guarding the entrance to Stabolaz were thrown backwards at the precise moment of detonation. There were many surprised shrieks and cries of pain as all twelve of them died instantaneously amid a hail of shrapnel and fire waves. The twelve clone troopers left under the rock canopy however suffered an even worse fate. Those individuals not killed outright by the explosion, were forced to watch in terror as their demise came tumbling down towards them. Feebly they screamed, some held hands out overhead as if hoping to shield themselves from the avalanche. There was no such chance and all six of them were swept up by the landside of lose debris scaling from tiny shrapnel to gigantic boulders larger than they were. The two AT RT drivers who had also survived the detonation did not escape either. With a piercing wail one of the would be victims held up hands to defend himself before he and his mount were crushed simultaneously by a descending boulder. The second soldier had the harrowing misfortune to being knocked off his collapsing ride and landing pitch down in the dirt. By some stroke of fortune / misfortune depending on the interpretation enough of the heavy fall had passed by, by now to ensure that he was not killed by the succeeding rubble but buried alive under it. Trapped, and with all limbs confined to eternal entombment the confounded trooper was set to endure an even more traumatic fate than those of his brethren. If a soldier did not dispatch him quickly he was all but set to suffer a long protracted death through both dehydration and heat exhaustion.

---

The explosion was so loud that it caused many of the unengaged units to turn simultaneously on either side of Stabolaz. Those on the front line remained paramount whilst others turned back so as to see what had just transpired, and for many it resulted in their downfall. Grievous was pleased to note that the Jedi was among those ranks, the look of triumph having suddenly been wiped from the Devaronian's face.

Now was his moment of glory, for the cyborg knew what that signal meant. It was time at last to put his plan into action.

Time at last to prove his value!

---

The dust cloud was setting now, coating the surrounding exposures with a fine layer of granules and fine rocky dust. Yet even the sounds of the last few rock collapses and the downing rain were not enough to drown out the sound of clashing weapons and shrieks of surprise as soldiers died.

Caught completely off guard by the enemy ambush the defending company had been left with so little time left to respond that within seconds the enemy horde had succeeding in pining them up against the confines of their own palisades. There the Republic soldiers were not just routed, they were massacred. White clad figures crumpled and fell in constant succession some run through, others beheaded, several skewered like a Zucca's boar.

Conan was not one of them, he was up and along with the few surviving individuals of his bastion was fighting. Knocking back soldiers and droids with the brunt of his pistol and using his fists if necessary. Though it quickly became obvious what was happening the soldiers instincts forced him to keep on fighting, to give up, even in the face of impossible odds was not part of his directive.

It was only when an extra-sized figurine entered the fray that Conan was finally overcome. Knocking a second melee unit sideways (damn that commando droid) Conan was suddenly seized by pain as a devastating side swipe caught him clean on the side of the head. Conan staggered, his pistol torn from his grasp, dazed slightly by the force of the impact. He collapsed against the battlement yet still he tried to rise a second blow, this time to the shoulder which again threw him off balance. This was followed through by a devastating blow to the ribs.

Conan's senses reached astronomical proportions and the soldier gapped, mouth stretching in an obvious sign of pain as he felt his sternum break, and several organs ruptured. Groaning consistently the clone slumped down onto his side as the bronze staff was drawn away. He lay motionless on the floor, overcome by pain, amid a forest of enemy feet and tall legs. Around him lay the broken remains of his garrison, and above him the tall figure who had stabbed him was shouting something, directing his club as he said so.

"YOU! Take command of the units here, and make sure you slay as many of them as possible. The rest of you follow me, we have a job to do!" and he marched out of sight. Conan could only watch horrified as the enemy throng made off, heading in the direction of the landing platforms. Then a shadow fell across him and he turned his head up slightly.

One of the MagnaGuard's had realised that he was still alive. For a moment it stared at him curiously, then raised its staff and brought the weapon downwards. The purple ended staff smashed into his face plate. The screen went fuzzy and blank, and Commander Conan knew no more.

---

"NNNNNOOOOOOWWWWW!"

The signal was delivered both audible and physically, at a much louder volume than anyone had dared to anticipate. General Grievous moved forward at last, stabbing the air in front of him at an offensive point. Many were staggered by this outburst, and rightfully so.

Soltark Romalta's head whipped around once more so as to face his foe. The lines had stopped now, taken affront no doubt by Grievous' outcry, but they it seemed did not comprehend the full magnitude of the situation it seemed. Soltark sensed an overwhelming sensation of triumph, of gloating that emanated from Grievous and into the troops surrounding him. The kind of excitement that only performed around inevitable slaughter and ensuing conquest. It scared Soltark ...

... and in that moment, everything became clear. The full complexities and the catastrophes of the situation seemed to finally roil up around him. In that instant he realised what Grievous had done, what he had failed to notice and what was about to happen.

It was too late now though. Soltark and his soldiers had entered the trap!

And now, it snapped shut!

With a sharp whirring sound and the spluttering of what seemed like a thousand small engines a cascade of fire power descended upon the garrison from all angles, and the lightening cut across the sky once more causing the true scale of the situation to finally become apparent to all involved. The oversized Republic army had been outmanoeuvred and was now surrounded on all sides. Ahead of them stood Grievous and his entourage, fighting on now with what seemed to be renewed vigour, brought on no doubt perhaps by what had just transpired.

On the eastern flanks (the Republics left hand parameter) a hail of turret fire cascaded down upon them as several pairs of mechanical eyes suddenly came to life. The CIS spider droids and their heavy counterparts were latched onto the wall high above the enemy position. There were not as many of them up there as Grievous would have liked, not enough to encompass all of the surrounding wall, but still it was sufficient enough to stretch from the forefront of the Separatist encampment and back towards the curving point of the meander. The eighty or so light weight droids were lined up in four small squads of twenty or more individuals forming a distinct box shape, which up until now had remained hidden owing to their personal ability to feign dormancy and the darkening effects of the storm. Their cover blown, the small vehicles continued to bombard the enemy lines with salvo fire. Yet even so their impact was minimal compared to that taking place on the other side of the enclave.

As Grievous had noted earlier along his scouting missions, a large horizontal channel ran out along here separating the high cliff face from the sharp angled levee, stretching up to its fore point. There were no spider droids perched up along here, instead something all together more sinister sat atop the high vantage point of the western fringes. Upon the relatively high safety of the channel outcrop, stood / hovered several units of tank divisions, which ran the full length of Stabolaz Gorge. Not just AAT's but HAG's were also present along with several squadrons of Kaleesh kolkpravis and battle droids.

The reinforcements!

Without compromise they pummelled the Liberty ranks with turret cannons and rifle fire. Mortar fire lit up the scene like wild fire causing the rain soaked scenes to burn and the scene to fill with the spectacular screams of dying men / insectoids. All the while KD67 stood, safely protected astride his own tanks mount, directing fire where necessary or otherwise focusing on his own barrage. Like their light weight counterparts the heavier armaments had succeeded in masking their approach most spectacularly, navigating the long winding roads of Ausez Steppes until they reached Stabolaz. As with the spiders the storm masked their presence so that when DreadWing squadron took off the Separatist armaments appeared to be nothing more than a series of gigantic boulder positions, imperceptible from the surrounding landscape. Now the droid units revelled in their success by tearing through the Republic and Yam'rii ranks with battery fire.

General Grievous stood tall and true once more, emitted a mighty laugh. His gamble had paid off, the Republic army was being ripped to shreds before his eyes. The encounter at Liberty was now all but forgotten but then again that had been nothing more than a rouse, a necessary action to make the Republic forces want to do battle. He never wanted to win at Liberty, not that way anyway, the Republic army had been to well entrenched for that. a direct assault against the clones and Yam'rii would never have worked.

Instead other weapons: deceit, treachery and tailgating were the order of the day. By tricking the Republic army into thinking that his much smaller force was hounded Grievous hoped that the units would break formation and march out to meet him head on. Grievous was certain of it, he had relied upon Yam'rii ignorance and blood desire to take over common sense. It was then that they would enter a battlefield of his choosing, where he could meet the Liberty company head on: face off to an army that relied so heavily upon its large numbers and superior tank formations to win the day. Here neither side played to its advantage, a fact which Grievous had exploited stupendously, and now the Liberty garrisons were paying the price for their costly misjudgement.

This was not all however, there was a second part of his plan that was yet to unfold. The second purpose of the Liberty ambush had been a cleverly created distraction. With the majority of the garrisons forces concentrated on him, Grievous intended to launch a second ambush, intent on finishing of the Republics defensive positions around Kalee once and for all. The only trouble was that in order to pull off the ploy, absolute radio silence had to be maintained. So Grievous had no idea if the second part of his strategy was unfolding accordingly ...

---

Namlick had been right to lead A squadron into the Valliant's main hangar. The Separatist contingencies which had subsequently invaded his ship had chosen to concentrate their fire power against one specific location. Despite a valiant effort from the standing clone troopers hangar bay three had been overrun, the tightly packed fighters and overlying transportation pods made it impossible for the Republic soldiers to mount up a solid enough defence against the coming onslaught. Reinforcements were notified and Namlick had heard Captain Tyson order all remaining platoons to converge on Bay three so as to temper the droids advance.

This was when the reports started coming in that the Separatist fighter were already on the march sweeping through the narrow corridors on mass, and taking out anyone foolish enough to get in their way. At first it was feared they might be making for the bridge, in order to try and take control of the ship but then it became clear that whilst a small minority of the droid forces were indeed spreading out, no doubt to wreak havoc across the Star Destroyers levels, the majority of the droids had their minds set on a different target. A position that just so happened to co-infer with Namlick's own standing: Hangar Bay One!

This realisation pleased the Admiral, for as much as he liked space battles it would be nice to see things from new perspective, and deal with things from an upfront a personal standard for a change. So acting decisively the Admiral imposed what he hoped would be a simple but effective solution to deal with the Separatist menace. Ordering all remain squadrons to converge on his location at ease, he and the forces already stationed at the bay took up shelter and simply waited in the wings, hiding among fuel canisters and stationary vehicles.

At last the doors opened and the enemy forces came pouring through the scene, rushing outwards in force as they made for the centre of the hangar bay and the only section of open ground in the otherwise cramped station. The landing pad was intended to support several fighters at a time and so it easily took the vast droids numbers. The droids composed themselves only when they thought they were safe, marching in a tight nit formation that made for the dead centre of the gangway, the magnetic shields were down at present so they encountered little obstacle, other than boxes and crates. This also meant that Namlick could see them easily. There were easily over a hundred of them, packed tightly into thick ranks, ranging from standard B1's, to several taller B2's and a few commando droids. The tallest. cloaked units indicated the MagnaGuard's, which seemed to be acting as the commanding officers.

The droids were exchanging glances, shifting uncomfortably and looking about them as if expecting something. It was obvious that they had been anticipating something to have happened by now, and in its absence were lost about what to do about it.

Well, Namlick would give them their answer. "Now!" he shouted, and at once he, and his troopers sprang to life leaping to their feet directing their onslaught at the abashed enemy modules. Namlick's fingers tightened around the hold of his plasma pistol, and it was his weapon which discharged first followed by a ray of volley fire and a short series of explosions as the battle commenced.

Unlike planetary combat scales the spectacle on the ship was one of complete carnage, even though it was scaled down to resemble nothing more than a series of small fire fights. Whilst the Separatist forces stood united as a solid front out in the open field, the Republic soldiers were hidden and sheltered across the cargo hold. Unable to unite their forces as a solid mass it was further undone by the fact that these defences were also quite treacherous and if hit critically in the wrong location tended to implode violently, reeking havoc nearby bystanders.

Still the nice steady line of reinforcements kept the moral fresh, and Namlick couldn't help but smile as yet another fresh unit of twenty five clone marines rush forwards, not hesitating to head towards the forefront of the fight so as to reach at the enemy flanks. The clones boast in numbers and the droids prior engagement enabled these new units to form up along a different side to the Separatist lines, so that the clone soldiers were now forming a nice semi circle, trapping the droids in a tight noose from which there was no escape. Time was running out for the droid units now and though there would be a lot of mop up operations yet to come, Namlick was certain that it would only be a matter of time now until the beleaguered droids finally succumbed, and were finally overcome.

Perhaps they seemed to have realised this for themselves as well, because the droids now fought desperately to prevent such matters from happening. Under the MagnaGuard's directive they proved to be efficient fighters, simultaneously alternating between offensive and defensive lines, all the while reaping a high penalty in Republic lives. Wave after wave of salvo fire cut down the already limited number of marines, they might be few in number but these droids were efficient, as another canister explosion toppled yet another five of his marines, Namlick had to begrudgingly give them that.

The officer on his right cried out and went down suddenly, a hand clutching at an apparently injured shoulder. Namlick bent down to assist him, the second officer following in his wake. Straightening the boy up against the crate Namlick cautiously inspected him, realising that the injury was not to bad, just a slightly minor burn, it would heal quickly if properly treated.

Assuring him as such Namlick allowed them a moments pause, taking the opportunity to look out over the tops of the defensive pile. The battle seemed to have reached a headway now, but still it was clear that neither side held the distinct advantage yet. What they needed was for something to decisively clinch it, to dissipate the remaining forces and strike back at a new offensive.

Patting the boy reassuringly on his uninjured arm Namlick ordered his remaining officer to standby with him. They counted down but before Namlick's attention could even reach 'one' an alarm bell rang out across the bay section. The two soldiers stood upright to see that the battle had momentarily stopped and much to his surprise his ally units were backing away slightly. With a whirring sound the ships magnetic fields were brought to life once more, and a tall blue blaster resistant shield sprang up between the two armies, with Namlick's forces gathered up on one side of the fray and the Separatists on the other. Namlick was just wondering what on earth was happening to this here when an echoing voice answered him. Speaking over the ships intercoms Captain Tyson delivered revaluating news which took all units by surprise but was meet enthusiastically by a series of whooping cries and jubilation

The officer on his side punched the air triumphantly and even the injured minor enabled himself an ecstatic grin, broken only by the pain in his shoulder. Namlick contented himself just to smile. The situation around Kalee was finally under control at last, soon everything would sort itself out. The whirring overhead told him that the atmospheric pressures had been stabilised and though this would not impact upon the droids melee units, Namlick realised that it did not matter. The surviving members of the Republic fleet had worked hard to wait for this moment, now at last their fortitude and resilience was about to pay off.

---

"DreadWing Leader to Base command, we are bring up the reinforcement fleets now, requesting landing permission. Over!"

"Roger, Dread leader", came the crackling voice of a young man, "apologies for the reception committee but as you can see things have been getting rather hectic up here. What is the status of your landing party?"

"Fully intact sir. We bring eighteen fully armed landing vehicles to your aid. With all dew respect commander, request we cut the chatter a little, so as to move with all speed!" came the clone troopers response.

"Well noted soldier. Clearance has been verified on both the Valiant and Harbinger. We are opening the hangar bay doors. All available stations have been alerted to your presences son, just make sure to give those enemy units a good thrashing from us won't you commander."

"Will do so sir. Roger! Over and out!"

The Neimoidian driver took his finger away from the sound terminal looking apprehensively up at TS-192, who was standing over him once again. However at the mentioning of that last few words, the Vengeful Star's commander started to laugh uproariously drawing the attention of many onlooker. The droid ignored them however and the questioning voice of his commanding officer as he turned to look out at the view screen to see that the Republic Star Destroyers hangar bays were indeed opening up. No doubt to intercept this long anticipated cargo.

Finally the droids chorus' settled down enough for him to understand what the midshipmen was staying. "Sir" the Neimoidian asked cautiously "Sir, is - is everything alright? Is there something wrong?"

"Not at all commander, but then again you were not one of those trusted with the full details in regards to the situation at hand, so you lack of understanding is permissible."

The Neimoidian looked even more confused at this comment. "I - I don't understand sir, what does this mean exactly?" he inquired looking from TS-192 to his command terminal, out at the viewpoint to the battle beyond it, and back again.

"It means that everything is going according to schedule. Lord Grievous' plan has worked perfectly and the battle for Kalee will soon be over!" Quite a few heads whipped up at this comment, each staring at the droid who seemed so certain in his proclamation. TS-192 ignored them however, this was not the time of sentiment but of action and he intended to keep it that way until the designated time schedule. Pointing at the command terminal instead the Fleet of Rightful Conquests commanding officer issued his final set of instructions to the mystified commander. "Have the remaining boarding parties converge on those LAAT units position. Tell them to form up behind them and make sure they enter the enemy stations at the same time as those fighter pilots do. Tell all other wings to fall away from Republic defences and to focus on any targets left harassing our own lines. The Star Destroyers will not be of any vital concern to us for much longer Commander, so just provide those transport lines with a wide birth!"

Though still befuddled by the confusing lines, the Neimoidian knew enough by now not to delay a direct order from this droids, especially when these orders it seemed came directly from the line of General Grievous. So it was that his commands course was carried out, and much to the surprise of Republic operations the Separatist horde began to fall back, its own forces gagging after them in hot pursuit. Within seconds a new, more idealistic shape came into view.

That of two pointed triangles each one composing a line of no fewer than nine Republic transport crafts, each one it was noted fully manned and bearing troops for battle. These reinforcements arrival would be well received and even though they were being closely pursued by eight of their Separatist counterparts, which broke up their own lines to divide their forces equally it did little to dispel the magic that had set over the Republics souls.

Within the span of few short minutes, the ship deployments had traversed the distances from Kalee's upper atmosphere, reached the Valliant's bow point and then disappeared from sight. Thirteen to a ship (nine LAAT's to four Droid transports) the transports vanished from site. The hangar bay doors began closing on them at once, a clever ploy initiated by Tyson to ensure the Separatists confinement whilst also ensuring relative safety was given back to his own lines.

---

Namlick's forces were prepared when the reinforcements came crashing into view, and the buzzing sounds and shrieking of alarms told him that Tyson was ordering the Valliant's bulk heads to be sealed tight in the transports wake. A wise decision Namlick conceded, especially given that the Republics fighters had brought uninvited guests along for the ride as well. The droids transportations formed up at the rear of the station, directly above their surviving allies whom as Namlick had anticipated survived the short period of being exposed to the vast vacuums of space now.

The LAAT craft were taking up positions relatively close to the magnetic shields, so it seemed to deposit their troops amid the Republic lines, yet the cargo hatches did not open yet. No doubt the pilots were simply waiting for the atmospheric fields to re-stabilise before they allowed their troops to expose themselves to the other perils station around the Valliant's hull. Even so it was disconcerting to see that the Separatist forces were already being bolstered by a new wave of fresh troops including, Namlick noted several squadrons of the famed MagnaGuard's and much to his horror a line of the infamous Droideka's.

They were in for a long hall, now but still his men were disciplined and maintained the battle line. There was a rattle from overhead, the moment Namlick knew was seconds away. He clicked the safety off his pistol, "This is it boys" he said to all available units within ear shot. The last few marines took up defensive positions from available hiding spots, their gaze was focused their concentration paramount. "Give it everything you have got!" beside him the uninjured aided helped up his slightly wavered comrade, they patted and reassured each other before taking up positions on either side of the Admiral. The bay doors closed, as the Separatists began to advance their lines making for the Magnetic shields ignorant perhaps that they were about to deactivate. "Take everything from them and give nothing back!" Namlick declared raising his own pistol to mount. The shields flickered, and finally died.

And all hell broke lose!

Within seconds colossal explosions and cannon fire became the new tall order as the Gunships finally opened fire, but instead of inflicting it against the Separatist lines, the calamity was felt by the Republic troops instead. Wave of after wave of turbo lasers, missile projectiles and composite lasers tore into the depository sightings, swatting aside ships, fuel cargo's and other resources as if they were not there, so that within moments the entire Republic formation had been devastated.

It was only now that the Separatist forces finally drew forwards, marching unafraid into the gallant of flames which had suddenly sprung up around them, and there among their ranks were operational units that certainly were not clone troopers. MagnaGuard regiments descended upon the clone marines like waves, and alongside them came other tall humanoids garbed out in long blood red capes.

At the forefront was a talking great figure who leapt through the flames unaffiliated with a bounding stride knocking over the disorganised clone trooper that happened to get in his way. They disappeared from site for a moment and then Bentilais san Sk'ar rose upwards his mouth open in a spine tingling shriek, his sharpened teeth bared and his muzzle already stained with blood. Without second pause he launched himself at the enemy lines cutting a sway through the scattered clone remnants using only his fists and the gigantic bronze battle staff clutched tightly in one hand.

This had been the divisions primary objective all along, the solitary mission which Grievous would trust to no one else save for the incalculable warrior that had demonstrated his efficiency countless times over. Even before Grievous set out with that sacrificial vanguard Sk'ar had already made off with a valid company of more than two hundred commando droids and MagnaGuard's along with a hundred hand picked elite kolkpravis. Making for the enclave along Stabolaz's eastern perimeters the unit operated in absolute secrecy. Only when Grievous had engaged the garrison did the stationed legionaries act, marching across the battlement in quick succession they descended down into the waiting command post, taking to the shadows until they heard the Republic garrison ride off. After successfully co-ordinating the ambush against the outstanding defences and disabling the turbo turret towers, Sk'ar had ordered these division to come with him so as to take command of the Republics remaining sanctions her in space.

Quite why Grievous had ordered this assault was undecided but Sk'ar was not one to complain at orders from his Khagan. The chance to cause battle was that of a sacred honour to the Kaleesh and Sk'ar revelled in it.

Namlick on the other hand was disconcerted by the sudden ambush. At the way his personal and pilot troopers were cut down under the assault. The way they could have been surprised so entirely was more than just perplexing, it was heart breaking.

Winston Namlick, fled!

---

Grievous' eyes dilated as the Republic lines continued to fold under the strain of the barrages. It was more than obvious that the troopers had expected to win by sheer force of numbers alone. The crazy fools, those were his strategies, his ideals, nobody would ever succeed especially if they intended to use his own tactics against him. The clone and Yam'rii troopers front lines were beginning to fall back now, an indication that they could not keep up the advance much longer. Their few remaining vehicle's had been decimated now, along with any other squadrons bearing firing arms capable enough of shredding through the enclave.

AT RT's smashed to the ground in burning rubbles, clone heavy troopers were thrown backwards by the projectiles which impacted alongside them. They had divided up their front now trying to meet the combat ensuing on them from three sides now. Fools did they not know it is never wise do divide up your lines as such in the heat of battle. It seemed not because they were still kept on fighting, even as their infantrymen continued to be cut down around them. On the few successive occasions when sufficient enough rounds did find their mark, there were still enough CIS forces left to make certain that the perpetrators were halide up and quickly eliminated.

The slit like pupils dilated again as he made out a republic clone trooper spin in a graceful arc like a doll cut from its strings as he toppled over a Kaleesh rifle round embedded squarely between his eyes. A spider droid on the right flank exploded, its wreckage toppled forwards into the frenzied melee beneath it. A nearby heavy dwarf spider responded to the enemies salvo with no fewer than eight missiles of his own. They ripped through the lines in rapid succession killing anyone involved including the elusive perpetrator.

Grievous' concentration elapsed slightly as he drew his hand into his cloak to retrieve his second lightsaber. The time was now. His arterial fire had been sufficient enough to take the punch and fight out of the ailing Republic garrisons. Now was the time to end this Kaleesh style!

He activated his second blade and then promptly began the first march on the road to success. Within seconds the two MagnaGuard's formed up on his flank, before the rest of the army followed suit. A simple mental command caused the constant barrage of halo fire to concentrate upon the centre and rear stay of the enemy formation, whilst the rest of the army marched forwards. Within seconds they had broken into a full blown run.

Grievous and his MagnaGuard escort outstripped any others in the rush to meet the enemy head on and even though the debilitated soldiers tried to organise a defence, it was nothing more than a hollow gestured. The trio smashed into the enemy lines, Grievous soared three feet off of the ground spinning in a graceful arc, striking down anyone unfortunate enough to get in his way. His next wave sliced an enemy clone trooper vertically across the torso, the follow through cutting a Yam'rii's unsightly head in half at an angle. His droids impacted a moment later knocking aside further individuals, and a second later the rest of the army had arrived.

Kaleesh kolkpravis tore into the enemy squadrons like knives through butter. The clone troopers tried desperately to wrestle back their individual foes, and the Yam'rii combat specialist committed their arsenal none stop. It was nothing more than an irritating hindrance, because here in Kadok there was no one better to be found at close quarter fighting than the Kaleesh fighting forces. Driven on by bloodlust the warriors hacked and stabbed at the resounding foe.

Blades tore through flesh and armour.

Carapace's split asunder, torn apart not just by steel rounds but by ammunitions and blaster rounds too.

Dozens were bowled backwards by the great mounting steeds that came charging full pelt into their ranks. Many were trodden on and trampled before they even had a chance to rise. Others were ripped asunder by the beasts mighty talons, crushed by the stupendous bites that the Kaleesh mounts jaws inflicted, skewered at the end of long lancing poles wielded by the riders or else cast aside or skywards as the beasts threw their battered bodies away in their search for new victims.

Grievous continued to wade through the Republic lines as the situation about him changed once more. What had promised to be a resounding victory was quickly transforming into a chaotic route. The cowardly Yam'rii had quickly decided that the situation was now falling beyond their grasp once more, as such they had decided to turn tail. The clone soldiers were a little more reluctant but as the magnitude of the situation seemed to dawn on them and many of their allies retreated, vast swathes of the clone regiments began to break rank as well. Even so a few defiant individuals kept on fighting until the bitter end, refusing to retreat, until specially embed rounds forced them to do so.

Then Grievous noticed him, standing amongst the shattered tendrils of what had once been a thriving functional army. Swinging his lightsaber in all directions, the Devaronian fighter was still going at it, maintaining enough dignity and efficiency to make sure that not one foe got within firing distance of his own being.

"Jedi" Grievous wheezed, his eyes glinting with malicious malice.

---

Namlick sprinted down the dark hallway, alarms echoed around him amongst other sounds, the pounding of retreating soles, the screeches of the advancing horde and the occasionally pot shots that emanated as he and his surviving soldiers made fall back. The situation on Valliant had become desperate, more than a full quadrant of his fighting forces had been killed under the surprise ambush, and the remainder were to badly distributed to coordinate an effective resistance now.

Through the com channel Captain Tyson delivered a series of abating reports the situation became all to apparent to Namlick. The Valliant was lost, there was no chance of reclaiming it now, the droids forces were to organised and too well conducted to be overwhelmed now. The situation was not lost though not entirely, Namlick had been in contact with Captain Tyson and the pair had a plan.

They entered a relatively empty corridor now, Namlick was accompanied by thirteen clone marines, and his surviving junior officer, the other one who had been caught in the crossfire at the hangar's skirmish was too badly injured for Namlick to do anything about it. The thought of what must have happened to him, to all of the others whom Namlick had left behind was demoralising, but Namlick forced himself not to think about it.

Their destination lay before them, driven here by pure instinct Namlick ordered his fourteen compatriots to stand hold. They halted without further instruction, many of them Namlick included panting to get his breath back. A few other clone troopers wandered onto the scene, survivors perhaps of other ambushes that had taken place across the Valliant's circle. Namlick nodded as they hailed him, now reaching for his com device.

"Captain Tyson what is your status, over?"

A few seconds later the crackling response came, difficult to hear perhaps over the sound of the alarms. "In good order sir, the evacuation signal has been given and all non-essential personnel are being evacuated. Thirteen further quadrants have gone since we last spoke but otherwise all systems are functional."

"And what about our little surprise?" Namlick inquired as to the real standard of the operation, "Will it be set up in time to overcome our uninvited guests?"

"I'm sorry sir" came the disassembled tone, "there just isn't enough power left to operate the systems remotely. All systems report either massive damage to necessary sections or else indicate that remote tampering has taken place."

"Sabotage units" Namlick cursed under his breath.

"Yes sir" came the vacate voice of Captain Tyson, "we have initiated attempts at manual override but it will take some time to override the systems."

"I see" Namlick nodded resignedly.

"We uhm, we've closed the blast doors" Tyson added, as if hoping to provide some optimism, "all relevant sections have been sealed but there uhm ... there is nothing more I can do sir. I'm sorry"

"You did your best lad" Namlick assured him, "did right by your duty, no one could ask anymore of you than that. You closed the doors and gave us a little time, time enough to reach the bridge son. I'm outside even as we speak." A roar resonated through the vast hallway, seeming to emanate from all sides. The soldiers braced themselves but no attack came as of yet, Namlick returned to his conversation.

You and the other units make a move for the escape pods. Head for the rendezvous coordinates just like we planned and try to get as far away from this ship as you can, that is an order!"

A moments pause followed this declaration, and Namlick wondered for the briefest of moments whether his orders had been realised. When Tyson's voice came out it was resolute once more, "With respect sir, my units and I have already chosen to disregard that order."

"I gave you a direct order son!" Namlick's voice tightened.

"And we respectfully choose to disregard it, Admiral. Please understand sir that this is not down out of disregard to your authority but on sheer principle and personal pride. My boys and I recognise that in all retrospect's there is a relatively good chance that none of us will survive this encounter, whether we make for the escape pods or not. As such we have decided to do duty by our station, to make sure that this ships resources are either scuttled or die trying. We intend to stand by and see this through, to one way or the other, sir, and as such I respectfully ask that you respect our decision to do so".

Namlick marvelled at the junior officers courage despite the severity of the situation around him the young man was choosing to stand by his station even though there was all likelihood that his sacrifice would be in vain. His plight struck accord with Namlick, after all was the older man not planning on taking similar actions?

Reaffirming himself Winston Namlick recognised that in these final harrowing moments he had no right to deny his people the opportunity to do what they saw as effective righteousness, in the face of these impossible odds. "Then do your duty well soldier" he nodded appraisingly, "As I said before my units and are standing right outside of Valiant command, so listen carefully as this will be my final order you. We will by you what little time we can, for as much as possible. You and those left in there with you do all that you can to blow this ship manually, if all else fails and the situation is lost, scuttle the control panels at least it will buy some time before those Separatist scum bags can make use of these systems final secrets. Act quickly though I am not certain how much time we can buy you though, so act accordingly in advance discipline"

A pause filled the air for a second, and Namlick realised that the other man was comprehending everything the Admiral had said. Finally there was a loud metallic gong and Namlick realised that the bridges doors had been sealed. "Excellent work soldier" then with a final contemplation he added, "Good luck to you son"

"And to you, Admiral! Sir!" came the resound reply. With that both soldiers disengaged the com channel, Namlick let his small device fall to the ground, for he would not be needing it any longer. Instead he turned to address the rest of his command.

"Alright boys listen up. Now I am not sure how many of you heard what just happened so let me spell it out for you. Needless to say, our situation is hopeless, I will not lie to you. The Valliant is lost, and all chances of escape are minimal and it is very possible that we are all going to die at best. Now our boys in there [he nodded towards the bridge behind him] have chosen to stay, so that they might buy us some time. The intention is to make sure that this ship and all of its available resources do not fall into the enemies hands, as noble an action as any. However in order to do this they are going to need time themselves, not a valuable commodity to be found within the confines of this station."

A second dramatic roar filled the landscape, emphasizing this factor. Namlick continued with his speech, "Now I know that each and everyone of you has performed more than valiantly today, despite everything that has happened today, you have all remained loyal to your stations and carried out your duty. That is why I ask you not as a commander but as a friend to stand by me! Help defend this station for as long as possible. Let me assure you that this is not an invitation to slaughter it is a request, any positions standing by here are voluntary. If any of you wish to leave here that is fine by me, make your way to the escape pods and head for the Harbinger, that is what all other personnel have been asked to do. If we have any chance of taking back any of the ships, we will find it there. Get back and take control, then make all haste for Republic space. Get back with some reinforcements and make sure that the bastions down there [he gestured at the floor, an indication to the planet below] are secured. Everything depends on it." He paused to let everything take order, so that each and everyone understand what he was asking of him.

"So ... whose with me?"

None of the soldiers moved, none of them even spoke, they stood staring between the Admiral and each other, as if wondering which one of the was going to take the first stride. Then finally the junior officer nodded. Smiling nervously, the soldier moved to stand by Namlick's side. "Good work man" Namlick said and they braced shoulders. "Who else?"

None of the other soldiers hesitated. With formative nods, all thirteen of them opted to stay, choosing to die together with their commander as a unit than risk wandering about only to meet their fate aimlessly on-board the Star Destroyers gambit. They platoon took up defensive positions, some taking up shelter as best they could against and behind the assertive corridors ready to step forward and give covering fire when necessary. Others squatted on the floor directly facing the bridge, to provide an obstinate barrier against the enemy assault. Namlick and his junior command stood upright backs held firmly to the door, as they waited for the enemy forces to arrive, knowing that one way or another each and everyone of the soldiers stationed here was about to die.

"That's it lads prepare to face this, our last battle like heroes. Let us show these alien menaces the true meaning of dignity!"

---

The command squadron's were breaking under the enemy onslaught, there was no denying now that the victory at Stabolaz gorge was complete. Under the enemies onslaught the Republic garrison was breaking, it soldiers totally routed. Driven back to the extremities of the regions from whence they came the combatants were being pushed back, up against the Liberty cliff face. Hampered as they were by the fallen rubble in the only known passageway, the disorganised rabble was now being forced to ascend the collapsing rubble in single file.

As the clone troopers aided anyone in ascending the necessary scales the Yam'rii seemed intent solely upon self preservation, casting others aside in their bid for freedom. Yet even on the other side the soldiers found no reprieve, as they came face to face with the standing waves of Sk'ar's regiments. Forced to take shelter amongst the very stations that they had once established the surviving escapees made a break for it, fleeing the battle field entirely, as back in Liberty and Stabolaz there comrades were slaughter.

The retreating bastions tried to hold up forming a solid wall against the oncoming horde, blaster bolts angled and fired in every direction. It made no different now, the Kaleesh / droid units were simply to numerous, that advantage having long since traded into the enemies hands, a state which mounted with every passing moment. Spider droids marched alongside the retreating mass peppering the waning lines when and where possible. A small individual number of the AAT's also kept on route, careful not to initiate to much of a barrage but launching a devastating strike when and where they could.

Yet still the Republic soldiers (or at least those close enough to the front lines) continued to fight!

Soltark Romalta stood among those lines, twirling his lightsaber in coordinated strikes. Desperation had taken decadence and he no longer killed where he killed nor injured the opponents that now fell in his wake. Droid mechanisms and Kaleesh warriors fell in piles, either under the strikes of his searing blade or else thrown backwards by the force. Face burning with concentration and hatred he now threw up a hand, the three kolkpravis were sent flying backwards. The commando unit rushed up on his left with unparalleled agility he dived under its curving blades and smashed his own blade into the droids abdomen.

The barrage of blaster fire from the incoming droid units was either dodged, deflect or otherwise intercepted across his palm. As the Roggwart stampeded forwards the droids scattered in its wake, Soltark his face now livid reached out with both his palm and the force, intending to inflict pain upon the mighty steed. With a shriek of anguish the predatory mount quailed under the mental assault, its rider trying to desperately to regain control, but the beast was unresponsive. Trampling and writhing about in agony it thrashed about wildly, smashing and slaughtering anyone foolish enough not to retreat in its wake, allowing some reprieve to the relinquished clone army.

With immense concentration of will Soltark, doubled the assault, he felt the beasts suffering intensify, and he relished in it. Renewing his strike even more he watched malevolently as the beasts anguish could take more and with a mighty whine, the steed fell sideways to lay motionless in the dirt. Soltark cared little for whether he had killed the beast or not, its destruction mattered little to him, all that he cared about now was on getting away from this battlefield, so as to prepare for a new assault later.

The army was still retreating around him, and Soltark cared little about trying to bring them round for a fresh assault. All he did was brace himself for yet another bout as two of the elite MagnaGuard's rushed forwards their staffs held ready in organized preparation. At the last second however the droids froze, conspicuously in mid strike, and Soltark wavered, wondering as to what was about to transpire. The answer came as the droids stepped backwards away from Soltark and turned to see the figure stood astride the collapsed Roggwart, a feebly stirring feebly Yam'rii lay sprawled out at his feet. The figures long black cape was billowing out behind him. With a sickening crunch the taloned feet clasped the insectoids cranium even more tightly in its grasp and then finally crushed it, causing the unfortunate victim to die instantaneously. "This one is mine" the cyborg wheezed pointedly, his gaze fixed intently upon Soltark Romalta, two lightsaber's already activated in his hands.

"Grievous" Soltark spat hatefully. He felt a surge of emotion rush through, then an overwhelming tide of power orchestrate inside his being as the despair concentrated inside the Devaronian's being combined with the other evil emotions, creating an all consuming surge of power. "I wondered when you would finally have the guts to come and face me by your lonesome!"

"I am never one to shy away from a fight" Grievous declared, his voice calm and levelled. He leapt down from the shaken mount, landing gracefully on the gritty surface, not ten feet away from Soltark. The two MagnaGuard's moved away at some ungiven signal, to concentrate on matters outside the immediate vicinity. Nobody else made to approach either as the two commanders faced each other.

"I must say I am quite unimpressed by the scale of your garrisons commitment. Allowing themselves to walk so easily into such an obvious trap like this was quite reckless on their part. Even the squadrons at Banen put up a much better fight than this".

Soltark felt a stab of anger at the cyborgs reference. "DON'T YOU DARE MAKE SUCH REFERENCES TO THEM YOU COWARD!" he shouted, pointing the angled point of his lightsaber directly towards Grievous' chest plate. "Every single one of our warriors has much more honour than you do cyborg. You, who use cowardly tactics to hide your true ambitions, who chooses to hide among your warriors rather than come out and face me in battle like a true warrior. You know nothing Grievous, you have no honour!"

Soltark had expected the cyborg commander to be wound up by this statement, but Grievous only laughed as he took up defensive fighting stance. "Honour is for the living Jedi scum, I know that much. There is no honour to be found in leading my fellow compatriots into a meaningless slaughter. It seems that there are so many things you have yet to understand about serving in a war, but then you are supposed to be a guardian of the peace Jedi!"

Soltark's glare intensified, not just at Grievous statements but at the reference to the order. "You having nothing to teach me about combat cyborg, for I surpass you in everyway possible. I intend to make sure that you never leave this battlefield alive".

Grievous laughed copiously "Such conviction!" he stated mockingly.

"Trust me I SHALL make you suffer, for everything that you have done" Soltark promised his voice now rising ominously, the moment he knew was seconds away. "Both here, and off world. All of the soldiers that died, the citizens that were massacred under your directive, all shall be avenged here. The Yam'rii shall have there establishments, the Republic shall secure this world and all of those fallen both at Banen, and here at Stabolaz shall not go unforgotten. Meanwhile you [he pointed the blade at Grievous once more] you shall be forgotten, your name nothing more than a smear on the scandal of Republic archives. Your titles shall be unbound, your ambitions unwound. Everything that you have strived for along this petty conquest shall now be unshackled for you shall not conquer me!" and he brought the blade slashing down, holding it out offensively at a slight degree angle parallel to his hip stride.

"Then prove it!" the cyborg challenged. Soltark leapt skywards performing a cartwheel forwards, and the cyborg leapt forwards to intercept him. The blades meet at an intersection and the two span about to face each other as they landed. There was a moments reprieve and then they charged forwards once more, and their battle recommenced.

---

The cries reverberated across the hallways once more, louder and more audible than they had ever been so far, and their were numerous numbers of them. Individual war cries emitted by many persons all within close proximity now, they were drawing closer. Every soldier twitched slightly and Namlick had to work hard to maintain his own composure, his left hand tightening on the handle of his pistol. Fortunately he was able to busy himself when the junior officer, a young man in his early twenties panted nervously, drawing in several deep terrified breaths.

"Are you alright son?" he asked, turning to the boy. The man span round to face him, looking nervous, before breaking his gaze and turning his head down towards the floor.

"Uh, I - I'm sorry Admiral. I just uhm ..." he stammered

"No need to worry, I understand how you feel son. Uhm ..." he hesitated trying to remember from the times they had encountered each other, "... Aaron, isn't it?"

"Ye-yes sir" the boy nodded affirmatively.

"Well you take strength now Aaron" Namlick said as he clasped the younger mans shoulder and held it tightly, "and I don't think there's any point in referring to me by rank. Its just plain Winston now boy". They broke their gaze temporarily as second set of shouts filled the hallways once more, louder than any that had come before it, and this time it was even possible to make out words amongst the clamour. They both realised that the enemy were not far away now. "Don't go showing any fear now son. Take comfort in the fact that we do this for the inevitable triumph of the Republic" Namlick added hastily, "a soldier may die but his cause will always live on, and I'd just like to say. No, I'd just like to reaffirm how proud I am to go into this, my final battle with brave worthy soldiers like you at my side, now Aaron".

He did not bother to conceal the inevitable prospects that would transpire to all of them. The Republic militia who had chosen to say and face certain suicide rather than attempt an escape from which they would almost certainly die anyway, but from the way his companion nodded briskly in response to these words Namlick assured himself that he had now at least partly succeeded in bringing the boy some comfort. "Its an honour to be serve at your side, Admiral Winston Namlick, sir" the boy answered with a courteous nod. The older man smiled, gave the boys shoulder a slightly more tighter squeeze and then both turned around combatively weapons already drawn.

A shout filled the hallway, speaking in a language neither Namlick nor his soldiers had ever encounter, but what must be the native language of the Kaleesh. There was a silence ... Then at last a Kaleesh warrior, wearing a massive eagle shaped helmet stepped into view closely followed by several dozen Kaleesh and battle droids. The enemy units paused slightly, to allow themselves some breathing space. The were huge numbers of them, but neither Namlick nor any of his boys showed any signs of fear as the gigantic individual smiled, chuckling contently in their direction.

Namlick felt his heart panting against his ribs as he cast a determined look of pacification and preparedness in the enemies direction. The tall figure, raised his combat staff. "KILL THEM!" he bellowed and the unit charged.

They traversed the distance with surprising speed and though Namlick and his companions succeeded in taking a few of that the onslaught was to numerous to be overcome by such small numbers. Within seconds the kolkpravis and MagnaGuard's were upon them, whilst spinning into action four Droideka's succeeded in taking out the majority of the free remaining fighters. Seizing and stabbing at the crouched figures the advancing force dispatched them at their leisure though the ferocity with which several of them fought backwards, insured that many cuts and bruises were finally sustained before the enemy succumbed.

Namlick found himself in a one on one struggle, seized as he was round by the front of his uniform. Hoisted into the air slightly the mans features tightened as he looked into the snarling face of what he assumed to be a male Kaleesh kolkpravis. The warriors face was hidden beneath a skull like bone mask, but his eyes glinted and his gapping mouth dripped with saliva as his teeth gnashed together. Having missed out on his attempt to shoot the blasted figure at proximal range and with his futile attempts at wrestling himself free of his opponents grasp Namlick opted for a new strategy.

Bringing his right fist about, he managed to succeed in scrapping it across the Kaleesh's facial features. Renewing his assault the Admiral succeeded in staggering the creature with the continuous pummelling of his fists, grunting in pain as his fist came into contact with the Kaleesh's bone mask, though the other winced just as continually as the Admirals digits found his eyes.

Finally the warrior staggered backwards as two more figures assaulted him simultaneously, one was Aaron blindsiding the kolkpravis with the butt end of his blaster pistol. Then with a scream the kolkpravis fell to the ground in a lurid pile as a clone trooper blasted him with several lasers across the feet and abdomen. These the last three figures were all that remained of Namlick's garrison, all of the others had finally been overcome.

Yet the Kaleesh entourage did not rush at them this time, they stood slightly backwards looking livid and for a second Namlick thought that they were being hesitant. Then he saw several more of the units stepping sideways to make room for two more MagnaGuard's both of whom the Admiral realised were wielding battle bazooka's.

The three soldiers tensed up but were otherwise helpless. Even as they raised their weapons for one final stand, the droids levelled their own weapons and having already taken aim, opened fire!

---

"Sir, everything is set, just another minute or two and the self destruct mechanisms ... "

The explosion blasted a hole right through the bridges doorways. Captain Tyson along with the sixteen other operatives, span about as the first few figures came crashing through the breach. Petrified Tyson started backing away from the control panel, fumbling desperately at his side belt as he cried out to his men. "Quickly, you worthless ingrades. Prime that thing and kill them!"

It was the last set of orders he ever issued. With a roar Bentilais san Sk'ar led the charge once more and it was his staff sent slashing sideways into the commanders side frame. The officers back was broken under the force of the impact and he was sent spiralling across the floor his body already lifeless, even as more soldiers clambered through the opening into the affray, scampering over the charred remains of three dead Republic veterans, one of whom had once been Winston Namlick. A short fire fight ensued between the invaders and standing operators, but a few heartbeats later all was still once more.

The Valliant continued to drift through space, but now she worked under a new command, that of Bentilais san Sk'ar, who quickly set his troops to work. "That's enough, cut the chit chat you warmongers, there is still a battle to win here" he marched across the forebears stepping across the bodies of the dead.

At once his soldiers deviated rushing to take command of the republics control consoles, though this matter was largely left to the battle droids who were well versed in such actions. Sk'ar made his way over to the his aft view wind screen, starring out at the sheer scale of the space battle now stretched out before him. Even now it was apparent which side still held all the advantages.

"Sir" a droid unit spoke on his left, "we have access to the main terminals sir, but they have already primed the ships self destruct mechanisms"

"THEN DE-ACTIVATE IT YOU FOOL AND BE DONE!" Sk'ar shrieked as if the solution was obvious. The droid stammered backwards then hastily ordered his men to obey. Within a few seconds the command was initiated. "Excellent" Sk'ar breathed, "Now then we can worry about Lord Grievous stratagem in a short while, first things first we have to deal with the situation up here. Reroute all of the main cannons to target the Republic's star fighters and let us hail all of the other cruisers in the vicinity. Let them see the successful results of our resounding conquest!"

---

The battle had now entered its final stand, one army was now in full retreat the other marshalling all of its resounding resources to drive them off. Yet even so Soltark and Grievous refused to break off their assault, even as the later drove the other furious combatant backwards. The cyborgs sheer power and strength in application with the Ataru style was only just temporarily held back by the Devaronian's fabled attempts at Soresu. Yet whenever he made an attempt to strike back Soltark often tended to over exert himself, such was his ambition to do so, but despite using the full applications of Djem So he was simply unable to push past Grievous' defensive style.

Soltark tried alternating to Shii-Cho once again, his expression livid with concentration and drive as he hacked and writhed at the cyborgs limbs. Once or twice it seemed that he might actually succeed in disabling a limb or so, but always his stance was intercepted. Even so Grievous' Niman counter strikes met no paramount either, and Soltark now held him at bay, his lightsaber's handle being slightly more elongated than the standard requirement allowed for better flexibility on the Devaronian's part, now also served as an extra measure of defence in keeping the two opponents separated. Even so it was hard work to maintain that hold against the cyborg's sheer superior strength and Grievous was stepping closer now, his blades cross angled against the xeno's own.

"You fight well Jedi" Grievous spoke suddenly, "you fight like a true warrior. Driven onwards by bloodlust and determination"

"Yeah! Well, I think you will find that I am quite full of surprises!" the Devaronian countered, suddenly breaking the crossing of their blades with a forward shove that seemed to catch Grievous off guard. Soltark stepped backwards bringing the blade over head, swinging it downwards and bringing it upwards once more upon his other side as he turned rapidly on the spot. Intercepting the cyborgs two incoming strikes one handed he was forced to duck under Grievous' third swipe which sliced down through the air right where his head had been all but a second earlier. Still he missed death by an even further inch as Grievous' fourth strike came at him from another angle. Just able to adjust himself in time Soltark stumbled backwards so that only one side of Grievous duranium steel fist caught him squarely on the upper arm, causing a brief bruise to swell up and allowing the two combatants to break apart slightly.

They stared at each other intently, each taking in the full aspects of the other and in those few heartbeats Soltark recognised something, which caused his eyes to widen with momentary shock. Then he turned back to look at Grievous his gaze squarely focused on looking as resentful as possible. Confused the Kaleesh cyborg broke the trance temporarily to gaze downwards towards the second lightsaber clutched tightly in the palms of his left hand. Unlike the turquoise blue one held by his other appendage, this was a recently acquired trophy and though he usually wielded a set of green and blue ones on this occasion he had broken the trend. Now the yellow bladed lightsaber seemed to glow almost golden in the overcast sky, it beams lighting up the small semi posed arena like a small miniature sun.

Comprehension dawned upon Grievous at last, "Ah" he sighed facing Soltark and now leering malevolently at him, "so this is why you fight so recklessly. A tragic ending to another gallant warrior, one that you feel personally responsible for no doubt". Grievous saw the Devaronian's face tighten somewhat and knew that he had struck a cord with him. "Oh let me guess it was someone of great value to you. It could not have been a lover, they are not allowed within your order. So a friend perhaps, a long time associate or, more likely... ah, yes ... your Padawan but of course. This lightsaber was taken from the man slain upon the fields of Banen, all so long ago, at the very onset of this encounter" he laughed somewhat, causing Soltark's anger to broil over into hatred. "Well ..." Grievous chortled spitefully, "Let me assure you that your padawan did not die in vain, not entirely anyway. His death brought you and your army here to me after all. Then again, ..." sneering Grievous leaned in closer so that the impact of his statement would ring out in the Devaronian's ears "... he was not such a coward. He was by far a much more able bodied combatant than you. That was until I took his head off anyway!"

Soltark Romalta's scream echoed across the landscape, cutting like a knife through anyone that heard it. Mouth agape the tall Devaronian charged full pelt at the cyborg not caring about what was going to happen, just knowing that he wanted to cause Grievous more pain and to make the cyborg pay not just for spiting his own pride but insulting that of his dead Padawan. Soltark felt the pull of something strong against his being, what he assumed must be the dark side of the force. It held tight against his mind and chest urging him to give way to its servitude whilst promising great power in return, but rather than resisting as he had done up until that point, Soltark allowed the barriers to be pushed aside and the true might and ostentatiousness of the dark sides majesty was finally opened to him at last.

Its effects took over him almost immediately and Soltark felt a surge of pride, strength and ambition as the full might of the force renewed his tired limbs and he did not hesitate to use and apply its full applications at once. His strikes were overwhelming strong and accurate, Soltark's head now seemed to swim with emotion, his formerly empty face contorted with rage and malice as he drove deeper into his new found powers. Soltark had never felt so alive, so exhilarated, his new found hatred for Grievous continued to bring him yet further power and now lost in the full heat of the combat as he was Soltark did not strive any further but to delve deeper into this abiding pole of forbidden knowledge.

Grievous met the first strike head on, intercepting the blade with one of his own, but before he could follow through the Devaronian countered with several more ferocious almost unnatural strikes of his own and this time it was Grievous who was forced to go on the defensive, and to give ground, all the while trying to avoid the untempered savagery behind his opponents new assault. Even so the cyborg forced himself to adapt quickly, he could not afford to show any signs of weakness nor try to fall back now. His honour among the Kaleesh would not allow for it, and he could not hope to prove himself to Dooku otherwise unless he followed that which he so avidly preached!

As he countered, Grievous realised that his opponents strategy was not as graceful as it so avidly appeared. With every passing strike the Devaronian seemed to leave himself open to sideways assault, having sacrificed his own defensive in favour of all out assault. Ha. the stupid incomprehensible fool. Bidding himself some time the cyborgs patience was rapidly rewarded with an overly exerted strike on the offensive stance, which Grievous quickly intercepted across the horizontal angle of his yellow lightsaber blade and seizing his opportunity, lunged forwards with a second offensive strike of his own. The Devaronian's blade came out of nowhere steered on by the force to cross angles with his own once again, only this time Soltark followed through with another offensive assault, this time utilising the force to telekinetically throwing the cyborg backwards under a vicious force wave. Grievous responded courteously, using the force of the impact to his full advantage by curving his body backwards into the blast, utilising acrobatic styles of the form two lightsaber style, so that the looped over and landed squarely on the ground beneath him.

Soltark had already acted however, using the force once more he hurled his lightsaber through the air having already calculated the most likely area in which Grievous intended to deposit himself. This action forced the cyborg crouch low to the ground and swing round sideways so as to avoid the otherwise beheading action. Yet as he did so the tip of the long blade span overhead slicing through the armaments of his left shoulder guard and removing a sizeable chunk of armour as it did so. Outraged Grievous quickly inspected the damage and got to his feet snarling. He tore straight towards his disarmed foe fully intent on exacting his revenge.

The Devaronian hissed furatively, having intended to launch a secondary wave of mind assaults against Grievous' mind but this would require to much concentration, and with his opponent about to assault him once more did not seem like the wisest of moves. Spitting wildly between clenched teeth, the Devaronian's still outstretched hand instead directed towards his lightsaber calling it backwards into the palm of his hand. Catching it one handed Soltark reactivated it just quickly enough to fend off several of the strikes which came from Grievous' onslaught. The dark side continued to give him strength as he did so and now Soltark used the momentum of these assaults to channel that energy into his limbs so that when Grievous made a particularly hasty off setting swerve and Soltark was able to concentrate that energy to provide a bounding leap which carried him up and over the incoming strike and over Grievous' form entirely.

Frustrated and annoyed at being outmanoeuvred by his opponent Grievous span about to avoid a second devastating strike against his armour with one hand whilst bring the other one whipping outwards so as to meet his side. The blade missed by a mere centimetre but even so the knuckles of his left hand scrapped against the side of the Devaronian's left pelvis blade. There was a dull thud of metal pounding against flesh and the Jedi quailed, crashing all to painfully into the dirt but recovering fast enough to ensure that Soltark barrel rolled out of the way fast enough to avoid the stabs that followed through on Grievous strikes. All to quickly he was standing upright once more and now both combatants almost unknowingly launched a fresh wave of assault against each other. This time they both applied the same applications and fighting styles, using the most aggressive stance known to each other: that of the seventh form of lightsaber combat, Juyo.

They struck, they dived, they ducked, they weaved, they lunged, they pummelled, they parried, each one trying desperately to gain the advantage over the other one and bring this overdrawn encounter to a long overdue conclusion.

A blue lightsaber caught the second blue one. Grievous' other fist came out of nowhere catching the Devaronian on the head, just above the eye socket. Soltark cried out and staggered backwards, his concentration lapsed slightly but still his instincts told him to use this pain to his advantage, to gain more power and to keep on fighting. Feeling his emotions take over once more, he launched a series of barrages against the advancing Grievous, intercepting his blades before finally stepping outwards and bringing the metal frame upwards to catch against his opponent only visible organic features.

Grievous staggered as the hilt smashed against the thin duranium plate and agitated the vital, yet delicate instruments beneath the mask like surface. Unphased he moved backwards quickly, whilst holding his blades out downwards at a sharp angle relatively low to the ground. Soltark did not hesitate.

He charged forwards catching Grievous' lightsaber's with his own a few times in order to build up momentum before finally utilising that power behind his own Ataru style manoeuvre in combination with a Juyo style counter to launch what he anticipated to be an elegantly flawless and devastatingly offensive power strike against his opponent. Grievous however, stepped forwards also lightsaber's in hand ready to play his part in the ensuing action. Holding the blade one handed in the conclusive spirals Soltark was thrown off balance as his weapon clashed against a single one of Grievous' own. The cyborgs sheer strength ensured that the offensive measures against the strike were made relatively useless except to carry the blade outwards at a relatively useless angle. It was at this moment that Grievous launched a second wave in conjuncture with his own strike, the second blue hinted lightsaber surged forwards unopposed in a forwards stabbing motion.

Everything went numb, then suddenly stiff before relaxing its hold once more. The dark wave of emotion which had radiated through him at such high volumes died instantaneously at this moment. Soltark felt a sharp searing pain emanate from across his abdomen. Looking downwards the Devaronian realised that he had been pierced through the abdomen, right through to the hilt and that the blade was still passed through him searing his vital organs which even now had begun to rupture under the intensity of that pain.

He had lost all feeling in his limbs now, he realised. The dark side which had emanated so strongly within him seemed to have gone, sensing his plight and abandoning its failed instrument, and Grievous was speaking now. It was all that he could do to turn his gaze upwards, a look of anguish on his face, so as to listen to his executioners final words. "It seems you have failed to conquer me after all, Jedi. Just like your Padawan and so many others before you have failed to do so ..."

His Padawan! Those words struck another cord with Soltark, only this time it wasn't out of wrath or hatred but out of self pity and loathing for his lonesome. Soltark's mind which had been so contested with thoughts of imagery and revenge now felt clearer than it ever had in the fading hours following Hurok's demise. So much so that he realised now that everything he had strived for, had been for his own selfish ambitions, and not in conjuncture to the true memory of his padawan. Hurok Nabalam would not have wanted this, not have wanted Soltark to acted the way he just had. All those times, when Soltark trained the boy from a youngling all the way up to a grown man he had chastised him about the dangers brought on by the power of raw emotion, and to always be wary of the dangerous lures of the dark side. Yet now it was he Soltark, who served as a perfect example behind those founding principles.

Worse still he thought about his other comrades, those whose offerings of concealment and protection he had especially those of Master Sashi Betrini, a much wiser soul than he, his wisest and most gracious of friends. Had she not warned him about such dangers, pleaded with him to contain his emotions in accordance with the Jedi teachings rather than give way to them. He remembered her standing beside him at Shrupak, trying to reason with him one last time as he set out for Liberty, perhaps knowing about his fate and offering to sacrifice herself in his place. He remembered her warning, the dark side of the force does not protect, it consumes us. Takes us right down to our very souls, until we do not realise who we are any more, and we have forgotten everyone, and everything we ever cared about as we strive towards our own ambitions.

She had been right, and he had been wrong! He had not just failed his teachings, not just failed his Padawan, but himself as well. He was not a Jedi anymore, no longer Hurok Nabalam's master, no longer the man who had aided Sashi, Koth and Kolkback across those countless missions across the planets surface. All that he had left now was to be another victim, not Soltark Romalta, but another nameless figure skewered upon the end of Jedi Hunter Grievous' blade.

This revelation transpired less than a few seconds, allowing the Devaronian's final seconds to be consumed by the lasting resounding words behind General Grievous' declaration, "...and now the rest of your army, like you, shall fall!" Grievous ended it quickly. He wretched the blade out sideways, causing Soltark's own weapon to promptly deactivate. The wielders hands flexed upwards, reaching outwards towards his fatal injury. Then he collapsed forwards dead before he even hit the ground!

Grievous watched him fall unsympathetic, he glanced downwards noting the position of the Jedi's lightsaber relative to his body, a body which he had further plans for once all other matters had been dealt with accordingly. Turning back to the situation at hand he realised that everything had transpired as he had orchestrated it to do so. With the death of their Jedi overseer, the remainder of the Republic army were now trying to get away, their moral finally broken culminating into a full blown retreat at last. Vast swathes of the survivors simply dropped their weapons as they did so, making full pelt for the passageway into Liberty garrison, where Grievous knew the remainder of Sk'ar's regiments we see to it that as few of them as possible made it out alive.

His own forces continued to hail the waning forces and Grievous now spurred himself to join them, to take part in this final act of justice and to ensure that everyone realised the full signification of what this impact meant.

The battle for Stabolaz Gorge was over.

Grievous and Separatist forces had won!

---

Just two hours after it had begun the battle was over, the stations on both the land and space had finally fallen silent. Debris rained heavily across Kalee's outer atmosphere, and the grounds at both Stabolaz and Liberty bastion were littered with bodies. The command station had been completely ransacked, its resources plundered. Every vehicle, landing craft and transportation nodule not taken out during the battle had been salvaged by Grievous' forces, along with any medical supplies and food rations, as well as fuel canisters, spare part modules and extra munitions rounds for the heavily acquired arsenal. Anything else not of value or immoveable had been desecrated entirely that even now eight hours since the battles conclusions, they continued to burn on end.

---

Eighty eight Republic soldiers somehow managed to fight their way out. These stragglers, now numbering thirty three distinctive clone units and fifty five Yam'rii were all that remained of the once mighty forces stationed around Liberty. They fled without comprehension, or looking back, many casting their own weapons aside in their desperate bids for freedom, and even when they had gone far beyond the battle field, they kept on running. Each passing step took them farther away from the slaughter but brought them no sense of mercy or relief.

Finally after covering many hectares, and with their muscles cramped and aching at over exhaustion they simply collapsed where they stood, panting into the dirt, their lungs exasperated, their muscles aflame. Many groaned in agonised relief as the stitches in their chests were finally allowed to ease, many individuals were crying also. It was understandable given everything that had just transpired.

It is unknown how long the remaining units sat there, watching and waiting as the last few forces made it out, away from the killing fields and here to comparative safety. After the last soldiers onset they stood by waiting for further fighters. They didn't come, nobody came for them, nobody else had made it out of Liberty station alive. These hunkered veterans were all that was left, some of them baring the tell tale wounds indicative of a narrow escape.

Finally the highest ranking clone official rose awkwardly to his feet, and started calling out to his hankered comrades. Many of them protested, craving further pardons and relief but the soldier was insistent: "We have to keep moving! Give it an hour or two and these foothills may be swarming with droids. We can't afford the luxury of rest, not here anyway. We have to reach Alpha stations it our only hope, their we can take as much rest as we need. Now come on its over three hours march, but if we can jog we might just be able to thin that time frame down a little, so come on. We have got to tell General Koth about what has happened!"

His words bore the harsh reality of hard truth, and so it was that the companies got most benignly to their feet. Some of the weaker individuals were supported by others, as they carried onwards steering towards Alpha position at a forced march. They encountered no resistance or pursuing followers but still it gave them something to do, gave them more to do as rather than just sit by and wait.

Wait for what, wait for them to die, or to live. For the enemy to find them, or their comrades to rescue them. Wait for the absolution of their fellow soldiers, which they knew full well would never come.

In what must have been record time they made it back to Shrupak, covering the remainder of the distance in less than an two hours so it was around midday by the time they finally arrived. As luck would have Commander Willis had taken charge of the watch and his sentries notified him to the strange movements up ahead, the well versed signs of an approaching onset.

The squadrons mounted up, many taking shelter in the heavily dug trenches, clutching and aiming with their battle rifles, whilst others stood backwards the Yam'rii licking their chops. Then finally the beleaguered squadrons staggered onto the scene and a cry immediately went up, "Hold your fire! HOLD YOUR FIRE! It's friendlies".

Willis clambered on out the bunkers quickly followed up by his men. At first he wondered as to what this signified, whether this unit was nothing more than than a messenger group, sent on ahead to deliver mailing news to the other stations. As he approached however he quickly realised that something was terribly wrong. The clambered masses standing with him were all greased up, stained with the grimes of war. As they got closer it became just about apparent to hear that vast waves of them were panting, as if from heavy running.

As he approached what seemed to be the leader of this small dishevelled crowd started to make his way towards him. The soldier was hunched, and feebly ambled and he hand not march but ten paces when he collapsed. Willis cried out, shouting for his own able bodied soldiers to fetch the medical teams, whilst others rushed forwards to aid their besotten comrades. He himself ran over to tend the fallen commander. Taking the boy by the shoulders he hoisted him off the ground slightly, then confirming that the soldier was otherwise uninjured pulled off his visor. The soldiers face was pale, his muscles taunt from exhaustion and he gasped for air at a phenomenal rate. Yet still he managed to meet Commander Willis' eye and with a much strained effort responded to the two phrase question.

"What happened?"

"Ah, ah, Gr- Grievous, am - ambush. Ah, uh" with a heavy sigh the soldier lapsed into unconsciousness. Bewildered by what had just transpired, Willis quickly passed his comrade off to another clone legionnaire and went off to question several more of the survivors. With each conversation a clear picture began to build up in the soldiers mind and doing his best to keep his own emotions in check, ran off to fetch his own superiors. Loyalty and duty were paramount in the clone troopers folly.

---

Eeth Koth's response was to organise a search party which was prepped and organised with all haste. Leaving General Mal and Senator Derm in charge of the operations at Shrupak, Koth and his escort of nearly one hundred clones set out on route to Stabolaz. The speeder bikes made the journey all to easy and along the way they met further squadrons headed by Masters Sashi and Kolback, who had also been notified to the situation.

With all speed they were able to traverse the great distance that separated Shrupak from Stabolaz in just over twenty minutes. Even from several miles away the great pillars of greyish black smoke could easily be seen, and upon first sight the unit pushed their bikes to maximum speed so as to close the remaining distance. What greeted them at Liberty was a site of total carnage, but even that paled to the cacophony of slaughter that waited on the other side at Stabolaz.

Grievous' entourage had taken anything of value, the clones could not find one single resource indicative of their command and the fires made it to dangerous to search the buildings. The bodies lay were they had fallen some in great piles, a true indications of the terrible horrors that had transpired here. For Koth, Sashi and Kolback however it was especially disturbing, they could sense the will of the dark side at work here. That which they most feared and avoided had taken refuge here, and relished in the anguish which Grievous had wrought.

Their troopers began searching, turning over the bodies of their fallen comrades and searching for any signs of survivors. Yet even after nearly two hours search the results were unyielding. As she bent down over a clone commando, just to make sure that the trooper really was dead, Sashi contemplated the situation. Almost seven thousand Republic soldiers had died aimlessly here, and that was excluding the Kaleesh / Separatist casualties. This had all transpired due to one mans actions. Sashi had known that something bad like this was going to happen, the force had told her as much but it had not shown the true scale of what was about to happen.

If she had known, would she have been able to do something? Why had she not done, more so as to try and stop this from happening? How could she, who was supposed to have been a guardian of the peace have allowed this to happen? The realisation did not cause any further anger or hatred to Sashi Betrini for she had learned to temper such emotions. It did however cause her further grief!

A hand rested on her shoulder, and she turned to see Eeth Koth standing above her. The Zarbak didn't say anything, but his expression said all about how he was feeling. She noticed Kolback approaching in the background, and rose up to greet him. All three of them were now standing by the entrance to the passageway into what had once been, the Liberty garrison.

"There's just so many ..." Kolback was saying, his voice sounded dishevelled almost distant.

"Have you found any signs of survivors?" Koth asked. The Anx male shook his head, so did Sashi. Koth sighed, turning his gaze downwards towards a large pile of clone trooper helmets which lay discarded and abandoned away from any apparent hosts.

"Sir's" a voice spoke and the Jedi trio turned to face commander Willis who was approaching them from the south. "We have managed to locate a few survivors sir. They are all in pretty bad shape, but I reckon if they receive prompt medical treatment they might just make it!"

"What about the others?" Kolback inquired.

The clone trooper shook his head "They're all dead sir. Many of them have been run though or otherwise savagely decapitated. Just to make sure" his voice was heavy as he said that.

Sashi leaned against Koth for support and he responded by clutching her soldier a little more tightly.

"Have you notified General Mal as to the situation here, and has Admiral Namlick been authorised to send down transportation and medical supplies?" Kolback reminded them.

"General Mal is busy authorising the troops but we have seen to it that Senator Derm has been brought up to speed on the situation" Willis informed them. "We are hailing the fleet on all frequencies but so far, no one has responded to our cries"

Sashi felt her heart quicken at the sound of this news, and from the exasperated sigh she knew that both Koth and Kolback felt as badly as she did. Koth's free hand reached outwards and covered his face. For a moment the Zarbak just stared plainly into the palm of his hand, then he recovered enough to allow himself to speak. "Get the wounded onto speeder bikers and have the drivers take them back to Alpha base at all haste. The rest of you keep on searching, we have to make sure to head out of here before nightfall" then in a final depressing tone he added, "Leave the dead behind!"

Willis nodded comprehensively and made off. Sashi and Kolback stared at their commander looking particularly devastated. "I'm sorry but our focus must now be on the living" Koth explained.

"Sir's, sir's" the exasperated voice of a clone trooper called in from the wing.

"What is it soldier?"

"Begging your pardon sir's" the soldier said with a courteous dip of the head, "It's just that, ... I've found where Master Soltark's body is located". The three Jedi stiffened as the clone trooper turned and pointed straight upwards towards the cliff face. The three Jedi followed his gaze and a look of absolute horror took over each and every one of them. There hanging up on high from the cliff face, stretched twenty metres above the grounds surface, was Master Soltark Romalta shattered frame, his body limp and lifeless, a trail of cord wound ever so tightly around his neck. Kolback and Koth looked on both disgusted and afraid. Sashi Betrini's hands flew up to cover her mouth once more, and unable to contain herself she dissolved into a fresh series of sobs.

---

As the Republic soldiers mourned this most tragic of defeats, the scene could not have been more different at the Kaleesh's home base. The victory today had been a glorious one, comparable to by gone triumphs. Not since the end of the time of the Sith had an invasion army been so badly beaten, and that was including the spectacles of the Huk Wars. In just a few hours, Grievous, their mighty Khagan, perhaps the greatest warlord to have existed since the time of Shrupak himself, had taken the might of a vastly superior Republic army and crushed it decisively.

In the sky's above dozens of droid star fighters and vulture droids sailed through the air, in a deliberate and boastful show of strength and providence. Amongst their ranks, former Republic star fighters of all kinds were flown in a deliberately bad mocking gesture, by droid and Kaleesh pilots, so that even in the air there could be no doubt as to who was the victor in this fight.

On the ground below warriors from all over Banen were gathering at the entrance to their outpost, to join in the most festive of celebrations. Whether they had taken part in the battle or not, neither man, woman nor droid failed to wave their fists in the air, nor add their cheering gales and shrieks of profound jubilation.

As the Separatist troopers and tanks marched back through the archways at the head of the victorious procession, along with several other war chiefs and other high ranking officials, stolen ATTE's, troop carriers and Scout walkers marched on behind them. Kaleesh war veterans clung to the sides and saddles of the battle vehicles, whilst the carriers were laden with other essentials taken from the remains of Liberty Base. Food supplies, water, medicines, armaments and ammunition filled each of the eighteen vehicles to bursting point. Then in the middle of the procession, came a large columns of warriors bearing a few unfortunate prisoners of war, and at their forehead rode the most important aspect of this fantastic spectacle.

Five of the Roggwart's marched side by side. The steed in the middle, the largest and most ferocious looking of them all bore Grievous, the rest a set of high ranking Kaleesh officials. Grievous emitted an occasional chuckle here and there, whilst sometimes pumping a fist into the air in triumph, sometimes brandishing the handle of an extra elongated lightsaber, his most latest of trophies. The other four counted themselves to simply wave and screamed, mock and cheer along with the rest of their kin, and whenever they fancied a break from this gestured towards the object trailed behind them, encouraging the rest of the army to look at it. Tethered to the back of the five Roggwart steeds saddles were thick, strong cables, and tied to the other end was a large piece of scrap iron, with an emblem painted across it. At first the fact that they were dragging what appeared to be a worthless hunk of junk through the streets seemed inappropriate, but upon closer inspection it proved to be a highly regales and political piece of propaganda.

This emblem was none other than the Bendu inspired symbol, that the Republic used to decorate its ships, tanks, outposts and soldiers armour. This particular emblem had been taken from the wreckage of one of Liberty Base's defence turrets and was now being used for its conquerors own end. To the Republic's soldiers and its allies this badge was worn as a mark of loyalty, courage and liberation. To the Kaleesh and other species like them, it was a sign of corruption, conquest and treachery.

So as Grievous and his unit marched past, totting around the symbol of their foe in such a disgraceful manner, the Kaleesh kolkpravis and droid onlookers did not waste an opportunity to express their feelings of contempt. The battle droids laughed, and jeered as the Republic emblem was dragged unceremoniously past them, whilst any Kaleesh close enough kicked, spat and stabbed at the taunted piece of metal with as much hatred and ferocity as is possible for a single man to muster.

The worst punishment though was reserved for the Republic prisoners. After combing the field several times following the battles conclusion, sixty clone troopers and twenty Yam'rii were determined fit enough to make the long, arduous journey back to their enemies stronghold. With their hands bound and war gear removed these poor retches were no longer soldiers, but grizzly war trophies that at best would receive a clean execution at the hands of their captors. Jeered and prodded with each step, the clone soldiers found it impossible to hide the looks of terror on their faces, for their helmets had been taken from them and left behind on the battlefield.

Then amid the shambles display, one of the clone troopers staggered and fell, landing flat upon his face. His brothers looked on worriedly as around them Kaleesh and droids leered and pointed. Such was the noise of the commotion that Grievous himself heard it from several yards away and turned to look backwards to see what all the ruckus was about. Briefly annoyed by what he saw, the cyborg then chuckled to himself as an idea of how deal with the situation entered his mind.

With the aid of the cybernetic communicators in his brain, Grievous' orders were quickly carried out. Striding over, a MagnaGuard pushed all the other clone spectators aside, bent down over the collapsed warrior, picked the clone up by the scruff of his armour and then threw him heftily into the waiting Kaleesh mob. The unnamed soldier collided with one of two of the kolkpravis bowling a few of them backwards. Then as the spectators recovered, he was seized roughly round the shoulders and dragged backwards into the fray. Fists, feet, claws, fingernails and teeth tore at him from all sides, amid a gale of excited cries, that were so loud, they drowned out the clone troopers shrieks and screams of pain.

The other Republic soldiers were powerless to help. They could only watch as their brother's arms stretched upwards into the air, the flexing fingers the only way they could register their comrades pain. Then the digits fell still and the trooper disappeared amongst an endless tide of red cloaks and bone masks. All that they could do now was march on towards what foretold to be their own demise.

They didn't know it but each of these clone and Yam'rii troopers were due be interrogated by Sk'ar and his comrades after they returned, in typical Kaleesh style, to see if any of these warriors had any vital information that could prove useful to the Separatist forces, at the promise at sparing their lives if they did so. A number of clones refused to betray the oaths of loyalty that they had made to Republic that they served and now died for. The rest, which included all of the cowardly Huk soldiers said whatever they could in the hopes that it would spare their skins.

Little good it did any of them.

After each interrogation (which was carried out on an individual basis), the Republic soldiers were led outside of the interrogation tent, and after being ceremoniously laid out across a table met his fate upon the edge of a blade. Their heads would then be held aloft for all to see, and with each death, Grievous' forces cheered and its commander chuckled.

With the destruction of Liberty and the obliteration of the Republics overlying fleet, his victory on this planet was now all but assured. Only one thing now stood between the cyborg general and his final lasting triumph; the total annihilation of Eeth Koth and his surviving soldiers. Which is why at the end of ceremonious execution, Grievous stood astride the table in person, brandishing the head like some other grizzly trophy. "Soldier's. Prepare yourselves, for tonight we march forth once again, and this time we finish this. So prepare yourselves, PREPARE FOR GLORY!"

---

General Mal marched into the command centre at the Alpha quadrant, the rest of the commando's had their backs to him and were starring downwards towards the command terminal, each one of them looking apprehensive. By now word had reached the remainder of the Republic entourage about the situation at Stabolaz. Mal had been to focused upon issuing his own personal commands to take much notice but now, the realisation that something was amiss had filtered through to his receptors. "What's happened?" he asked, looking confused as no body turned around to face him.

When nobody answered him, the furative insectoid growled slightly before turning his attention towards Koth. "I see that you have returned from Stabolaz. I trust that your mission went successfully?"

"If you can call entering the site of a total slaughter success then yes, very much so" Master Sashi said abrasively.

Mal appeared agitated somewhat by her tone but seemed to eventually shrug it off, "Well ..." he commented, "it is no of no major importance. The men are talking about the fact that we were defeated but this will be nothing more than a minor hindrance." The rest of the unit eyed him in a rather suspicious manner as he approached the command table. "We simply reorganise our forces and then we deploy a new strategy."

There was a short pause, after which Senator Derm faced the disgruntled commander rather looking rather agitated himself. "No General, not this time. It seems word has not reached you let so allow me to in form you ... All seven thousand soldiers have been eliminated"

The calm expression vanished from Mal's face. "What?!"

"The whole legion!" Derm nodded.

"We managed to pull about sixty six units out of the chaos" Kolback informed him, "but so far only twenty eight survivors have been confirmed!"

"What about the resources, I thought Liberty had stations and armaments vastly superior to any of our own, here at Shrupak"

"It did" Koth stated, emphasising the last word. "Grievous and his forces somehow found a way around them. All of the remaining sanctions have been taken, there was nothing left at Stabolaz".

Mal let this information, then looked about the stations like a blustering fool wondering as if someone was going to tell him that this was all a sickening joke, or about what to do in this situation. When no one did he simply said, "But - but that was over two thirds of our fighting men ..."

"Yes and it gets worse" Willis confirmed, "Not only was the Jedi [he nodded towards the now noticeable absence of the Devaronian Jedi] among those casualties, this transmission came through when we finally managed to reach the fleet." He tapped a button in front of him and a fresh image sprang up across the holo-screen.

Two holographic representations sprang up from around the otherwise blank screen, one was flesh and organic, the other solid hard steel.

"The fleet has been secured, and the survivors have been mounted. How are things at your end commander Sk'ar?"

"These facilities are crude but adequately sufficient for our purpose. Those droid pilots you have shipped out to us make for excellent navigators and control pilots, and the ships fighters will make excellent additions to Lord Grievous' battle armada"

"Yes. It is indeed nice to have the Fleet of Rightful Conquest brought back up to full strength once again"

"Or at least it will be once that injured ship of yours is brought back up to full strength" Sk'ar reminded him.

TS-192 nodded, "Even so the space battle is now over. Just a simple clean up operation, to be initiated by the ground forces"

Sk'ar's expression widened into a sickeningly pleasured filled smirk. "Sure is. All that these brainless Republic fools have all but signed their death warrant. Still we can't just leave anything to chance now can we?"

"We have no intention of letting anyone leave this planet alive. Our forces have now established a full fighter perimeter around the planets eastern sector and the units on your station are now using the archives in the Republics databanks to access all the major access codes. No transmissions will make it in or out of Kalee without our authorisation."

Sk'ar looked over his shoulder, perhaps at the off screen soldiers or at the planet below. "Except for the transmission I've already had sent to Oben notifying them of this victory. Hum, its nice to know that all things considered everything has been nicely taken care of up here. I think I will head back down to the planets surface, don't want to miss out a final chance to get up close and personal to the Republics lines. I must say I'd almost feel sorry for them, if it wasn't just for business!"

Both he and TS-192 laughed uproariously as the transmission ended.

Mal stared at it with dawning comprehension. "The - the space fleet too?"

"It seems that way" Koth admitted. Mal turned away to look down at the holo-screen the full gravity of the situation now all to clear to the insectoid. Each of those Star Destroyers had been carrying over four thousand people, including additional marines and specialised workers. The conquest of these four ships was indicative that all hands were either lost or stranded with no where else to go. This meant that over twenty thousand men had been wiped out, by Grievous much smaller army. It was only now that he truly realised just how much he had underestimated the cyborg commander.

He turned to look at the other commanders and noticed that quite a few of them were gazing back at him with a look of deepest loathing. "But this mission can't fail!" he insisted.

"There's nothing else for it do now except fail!" Commander Willis roared back at him. "The greater part of our army has just been annihilated and we don't have the necessary combat power to take on Grievous' ground forces any longer"

"Then we should begin evacuation procedures ..." Mal interjected without thinking."

"They have knocked out our communications, and we no longer have a fleet to aid us in our endeavour" Sashi reminded him, her voice sounding strained.

"And none of the ships that we currently possess, have sufficient hyperdrive capabilities to make it to the nearest star sector let alone the system" Derm added.

"Besides, they are so slow to make it past the blockade in time to do so" Kolback rounded off.

Mal held his tongue staring apprehensibly at the holo-terminal once more. "Bu - but that, that means we're trapped!" he muttered feebly to no one in particular. He looked upwards as Derm spoke, "How - how many soldiers do we have left, Master Jedi?"

"Two thousand … give or take a hundred" Eeth Koth stated cautiously. A short silence ensued, in which all of the commander comprehended the harsh reality of their situation. They were stranded, on a hostile world, with no way of contacting reinforcements. It was with valid certainty now that whether or not they attempted to fight or not, that Grievous' entourage would almost certainly come after them.

"This is all your fault!" Senator Derm shouted, rounding upon General Mal. "You were trusted with the responsibility of our armies, dedicated towards fighting any forms of resistance. And now we are all going to die because of you!"

"WHAT!" Mal hissed angrily spinning about to face his challenger, but the smaller senator did not back away this time. Comprehension about his inevitable downfall seemed to have finally helped the Senator to find his voice. "How dare you Senator, what gives you the right? What reason do you have to insinuate that I am responsible for everything that has just ha -"

"It was you who suggested the army to advanced" Derm stated furiously, pointing an accusing talon directly at his commander. "You insisted that the sanctions at Liberty bastion advanced totally unprepared and unequipped for such an inevitable onslaught"

"He's right" said Willis harshly now moving around the table to stand at Derm's side. "The responsibility of that situation was commander Koth's order not yours but you insisted on their advancing. You even threatened some of those soldiers to do so, without proper authorisation. If we had just kept calm, listened to the Jedi we could have realised it was a trap. That General Grievous wanted us to think that his army was on the brink of collapse, but you ordered the reinforcements to advance and I stupidly thought you were doing the right thing. God's above I can't believe that I was so stupid enough as to agree with you on that matter."

Mal stammered slightly. He turned to gaze upon the three Jedi Master's as if hoping for some support. None came, Koth was looking expressionless but Sashi and Kolback's faces indicated that they fully sided with the Senator's statements. "I never suspected it to be this way…" Mal offered "I thought that it would be sufficient. I never expected that this cyborg …"

"YOU WERE WRONG!" Derm shouted, "AND NOW, OWING TO YOUR BLUNDERS AND YOUR BLOODLUST WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE!"

"ENOUGH!" Koth demanded, and the situation fell silent once more. "Fighting amongst ourselves will get us nowhere, right now we need to focus on concentration what little positions we have and make do with the forces that we have left." He paused to call up an image of Shrupak and the surrounding landscapes, a flashing red mark indicated the landmark where Liberty had once stood. "I say that we anchor down and prepare all forces for prior engagement. Now Mal you said that Shrupak represents a sacred site in the heart of the Kaleesh horde" Mal nodded hissing slightly as Derm and Willis snarled at him. "Thank you" Koth obliged with a nod, "Then it stands to reason that this site will be their first target. I suggest we pull all major fighting units downwards, away from the other bastions leaving a large enough force to defend it accordingly. Say about two hundred and fifty warriors apiece?" the two remaining Jedi nodded.

"Ok then it is decided. Senator I want you to take up shelter as best you can [Derm nodded then cast Mal a furitive glance before marching out the room]. The rest of us gather your men and take up shelter among the ruins. Perhaps if we put on a large enough show of brute strength we might just be able to force the Kaleesh to negotiate with us rather than risk further damage to their beloved temple"

It was a long shot but it seemed to be the only other solution, short of a fight. Sashi and Kolback nodded in Koth's favour once again as did Willis. Mal however snarled and marched forward slightly, "Now see here Koth" he demanded, "its all very well you stating this but our position has now changed. These Kaleesh slime trails would never negotiate not with us at any rate. The situation has changed and we need to come up with other ideas towards aggressive styles. Perhaps we should see about engaging them in gurrellia warfare. That way we might be able to …"

Willis roared in outrage and grabbed the front of the Yam'rii' chest strap armour and in an adrenaline fuelled rage was able to shove the taller insectoid up against the command terminal. "You shut up!" he demanded furiously. "This all your fault, and its to late for you to start making amends now. As far as I am concerned your authority is hereby ended, my warriors and I are listening to the Jedi from no one else. You wanted a secure a quick decisive victory in this war campaign, well now you got one!" Willis shoved the insectoid away from him and underneath his helmet glared hatefully at Mal. "Why did I ever let myself listen to you?!" he asked himself rhetorically.

Mal stared rather piteously as the clone warrior stormed past him. The Jedi's expressions he noted maintain a rather neutral standard but did perhaps seem the slightest tint of sour. Finally Koth approached him, and stretching out a hand patted the Generals shoulder. "General I need you to relate what has happened to your warriors. Tell them the full gravity of the situation at hand, then order them to make ready for what will be our final stand and to prepare for battle!"

End of Chapter

Authors note: Thus concludes the decisive Battle of Kalee.

It's my first attempt at a proper full out battle, so please let me know what you thought.

For the more curious amongst you elements of this battle were based on concepts of real events, such as the stratagems used at most famously at the Battles of Watling Street and Cannie. The concept of the gorge and conquering space battle were of my own design of course.

Anyway hope you enjoyed it.

Stay tuned next time for the preliminary chapter of the Prove Your Worth title.