Innocents of Ryloth
Scene 3
Surface of Ryloth. Gunships descend into a Yarbanna tree grove on the slopes of the rocky mountains surrounding Nabat.
They leapt out of the open hatches and hit the ground running. In the Force, the tang of the clones' adrenaline was like a bracing slap – it propelled them forward on their officers' heels with driving energy. They dodged among the bare trees, seeking cover behind the broad trunks and scattered boulders. There was little underbrush and few fallen leaves underfoot; the rocky soil was swept clean by a perpetual cool wind blowing over the cliffs and jagged hills ahead.
Obi Wan crouched behind a large, rough-hewn stone – a far flung fragment of the mountains beyond – and a pressed a gloved hand to the hard earth, taking a moment to breathe in this place, its essential tone and rhythm in the Force. A Jedi's mission began as soon as his feet touched the soil of a new planet. Qui Gon had taught him this long ago. But nowadays, it seemed, no sooner had he set foot on a world than he was spearheading an attack, destroying everything in sight and moving much too fast to pay attention to the subtle currents in the Force left behind by historical and geological memory.
Now he felt hard ground, deep sky, the thrumming knot of trees. Far distant, the Force twisted and churned: the native Twi'Leks in their distress, captive or starving. And a strange void, that peculiar signature rippling effect with no living source at its heart. He knew it all too well: droids. Lots and lots of battle droids. He had learned to diagnose their physical presence through their spiritual absence. Perhaps it was a dark gift.
"Wonderful," he grumbled.
"What's that, sir?" Cody had darted up and now squatted down beside him.
Afetr so many years spent teaching Anakin, he still found it strange for his assigned second in command to have to ask for his thoughts. He also had to remember that Cody couldn't feel the droids ahead the way he could. The clone was for all practical purposes blind to the glaringly obvious. "They've posted at least two squadrons of sentry droids around the perimeter," he explained.
Cody scanned the cliff face through his macrobinoculars, seeking sensory confirmation of this statement.
"D'ye think they've – " the commander began.
In answer, Obi Wan Force-pushed Cody away from the rock, and jumped high in the air himself, a fraction of a second before the first cannon blast reduced their boulder to smithereens. He flipped once or twice in midair and landed nearby, nipping behind a tree trunk and activating his saber.
Laser bolts flew through the sparse orchard, raining down from a fortress bunker carved into the living rock in the cliffs above. The droids had the high ground; by ordinary rules of combat, they would have been accorded the advantage. But they were nothing but standard model battle units, and they were up against a Jedi, so that advantage was a tenuous one at best.
Cody signaled a charge. Clones rushed forward on every side, darting from tree to tree, weaving and ducking as they drove up the slope, returning fire with their blasters and heavy rifles. Blue and red energy packets collided and whizzed through the forest. Trees were shattered and felled; rocks exploded into dangerous shrapnel; bodies tumbled to earth and did not rise again. But still the invaders ran forward, closing the distance to the base of the stronghold.
Obi Wan sank deep into the Force, finding his own still center in the battle. The war had changed him, too. Formerly a devoted student of Form III, a saber style embodying all the virtues of patient defense and protection, he had now found a new and more profound expression of his purpose in Form VI. Since the beginning of the conflict he had wielded his saber in a deadly, personalized version of Soresu. He made of himself the eye of the storm. Drawing in the Force, he descended through the chaos without and the surging invisible currents within until he found that silent, central fulcrum.
And then he sprang into motion.
The bright flash of his blade became the focus of the battle; laser fire converged on him as he led the charge up the hill. He deflected every blast, inviting and then repelling shots in a blur of perpetual motion, dancing through the murderous storm with implacable calm. The hum of the energy blade as it swept through the air drowned out all other sounds – soon he had gathered the living Force about him in a tight sphere. He no longer saw the shots coming. He was simply there before them.
Ghost Company reached the cover of the boulers at the orchard's edge. A short open run of fifty meters separated them from the base of the stony promontory in which the cave-like bunker was situated. The curved heads of battle droids appeared over the parapet, and a floor-mounted cannon fired off a few warning shots in the general direction of the would-be usurpers, a pointed reminder not to cross the exposed space that still lay between them.
Obi Wan could cross that distance unscathed in a few heartbeats – but he could not protect all the clones behind him.
"That bunker's gonna be a problem, General!" Cody called out, hunkering down beside him.
Yes. A problem. For them, the Jedi smirked to himself, allowing just a hint of his tightly controlled battle energy to surface in his conscious thoughts.
"Leave the bunker to me – bring your men in on my signal," he ordered. Then, "Droid poppers, Cody." The narrow opening between the parapet and the ceiling overhang in the droid outpost was wide enough to admit the small spherical EMP grenades. Of course, it would be impossible to successfully launch or throw one up there from this angle, unless…
Cody chuckled devilishly and tossed an activated "popper" far out into the open air. It was child's play for Obi Wan to catch the thing in midair with the Force, to gently nudge its flight directly into the open window of the bunker. A brief flash of light, and the heads of the sentry droids convulsed and then disappeared as their owners collapsed behind the protective wall.
"Got 'em!" Cody enthused, already throwing the next grenade high in the air. Obi Wan held out a hand and gracefully altered its course, sending it sailing toward the next pair of sentries. Within minutes, there were no more guards on active duty.
"Ghost Company! Let's move!" the commander shouted, and the clones surged forward as one to lay siege to the citadel's outer defenses.