CT-1552 – Bothawui
Dreamer watched the transport go, his general's arm hanging over the open door of the transport before an armored arm shot out and pulled it back end. Then the door slid shut over the vessel, and he was away.
They'd left a half-dozen clones with him. Not as many as he would've liked, but in combination with the ten Bothans, they were closing on half the numbers of the droids. If he was discounting the tanks, of course.
One of the clones was a lieutenant, outranking Dreamer, but he had ceded authority to the clone upon landing. He'd recognized that as the person with the eyes on the enemy, CT-1552 had the best grasp of the situation instead of the ARC Trooper.
It helped that Dreamer had already set up a defensive perimeter around the databank with the supplies that'd come in from the transport. A trio of portable turrets lined the short walls, the Bothans were spread out far enough that a grenade wouldn't take out groups, and the clone lieutenant was bearing a rocket launcher.
The only snag was the databank was taking too long to process into the computer they'd brought with them. Without know which file contained what they were looking for, they had to hold out for the next half-hour, and only then would the data be completely transferred.
"Command really blew this one," Grouch said, the lieutenant leaning his bulky weapon against his leg. Of the group, he was the only one besides Dreamer who'd seen combat. "Had they given us any indication of what we were looking for, we could've downloaded it and been on our way. But no, we get to stand around and defend this shack instead."
Indeed, the databank was housed in a tiny building with only modest defenses, one of which being a portable shield generator they'd been forced to cover it with instead of using to protect themselves.
"Command's got fires to put out all over, sir," Dreamer said from behind his wall. "Makes sense they wouldn't have the time or resources to just put this one down."
"Still, for the value of this intel, they're not taking a lot of precautions." He shrugged. "Suppose that's what happens when you just have intel drops instead of an actual intelligence complex."
"We do," Corporal Gebb-Tik said from the portion of metal he was crouched behind. "But all we trade in is information. We cannot contain it all in one location."
"Perhaps." Grouch looked out at the pass, where Dreamer could already hear the groaning rumble of the tanks. "Seems like we're gonna see if we can do what a general can't."
It was said that Jedi Masters were worth a thousand droids, Jedi a thousand, and clones ten. Yet with all but two of their clones being shinies who'd never seen the enemy before, Dreamer wasn't sure they quite outnumbered the enemy yet.
"Alright," the clone trooper said. "Whoever's leading them is smart. They employed a three-pronged pincer maneuver, so prepare for them to be clever."
"Clever? When have the clankers ever been—"
The tanks came first, heedless of the turret fire that tried to turn them back. They kept their fire exclusively on the ARC Trooper, his unique armor signifying that he was in charge. Unable to use the rocket launcher, he was pinned down behind the barricade while the destroyer droids rolled in behind them.
"Lieutenant!" Dreamer cried. "The weapon! I can use it!"
"You'd better not miss," he growled, tossing the weapon to the clone trooper.
Its weight was unfamiliar in his hands, but he'd used it before when he'd scooped one off a dead trooper on Kamino. Sighting was easy enough, and all he had to do was pull the trigger and let the missile do the rest.
He did just that, letting a projectile fly.
The tank on the left disappeared in a howling ball of angry fire, the flames hot enough to overload the shields of the destroyer droid next to it.
The troops, sensing an advantage, adjusted their fire to the rolling droid. Without its shields, the combined fire shredded the heavier machine, causing it to collapse and roll down the hill in a jumbled heap of brown and silver metal.
Employing the rocket launcher had left him wide open and the obvious target for both the tank and the approaching battle droids, who were moving around the flanks of the armored vehicles and focusing fire on the sides of the defensive position.
A blast from the other side of the wall threw Dreamer to the ground, ears ringing and his head groggy. For a moment, he went to hands and knees, trying to remember where he was, then he heard the shouting.
"Dreamer! Give me the launcher!"
The clone trooper saw the weapon on the ground at his hands, and he practically batted it away from him, sliding the weapon across the concrete to his fellow clone. The lieutenant picked it up and started reloading as Dreamer looked around.
The clones were giving as good as they were getting, and it was working. The battle droids were starting to fall, and the destroyer droids' shields couldn't last forever.
But they hadn't gone without losses. A couple of the Bothans were down, and one of the clone troopers had fallen, his armor burned through in the side. The clones were standing fast, but the aliens were starting to waiver.
He'd heard tales of it many times across many worlds. The clones were bred, born, trained, and equipped for battle. The locals were significantly less ready for the war when it finally came to them, and time and again they broke. There were exceptions: Ryloth, Mon Calamari, Naboo, places where untrained militia and citizens would fight tooth and nail to resist the Separatists. But not all planets were filled with warriors-in-waiting.
Still, they continued to hold, encouragement from the lone corporal keeping them at their spots.
Dreamer leaned back onto the wall, checking over the top just as the lieutenant finished reloading. The droids were no longer firing on the ARC Trooper, only concerned with the sergeant who'd just been shooting at them moments ago.
Grouch came up seconds later, taking a moment to aim before firing.
The rocket streaked across the field, exploding under the tank and leaving its hoverjets disabled. Two of the destroyer droids were obliterated in the blast, but the tank was still firing. Dreamer was just about to curse their luck when something inside the armored vehicle detonated, reducing it to scrap from the inside.
"We've got it, Dreamer!" Grouch shouted, cheers and howls coming from the clones and Bothans as they rallied and started to mow down the battle droids.
Then everything changed when a man strode out from the rear of the formation, shrouded in a dark cloak far too thick and hot for the weather, a red blade in his hand. He didn't immediately stride forward, sending a blaster bolt right back at the lieutenant that cut right through his armor and into his chest, leaving him dead on the ground.
"Dark Jedi!" Dreamer cried. "Focus fire, men! Focus fire!"
As he charged toward them, lightsaber deflecting anything that came too close, Dreamer went for the rocket launcher. He heard cries behind the wall and the screeching of metal as the turrets exploded.
By the time he'd picked up the rocket launcher, the battledroids were mostly destroyed, but a few were making life miserable for the Bothans who were trying to get a shot in at the flank of the charging Force-user. For his part, the Dark Jedi had closed almost to the wall.
The clones were unable to stop him, and as Dreamer grabbed the final rocket and reloaded.
Whoever he was, the Force-user cut the clones down, slashing across the chest of one while thrusting a hand out and tossing another away.
Dreamer dropped the round the first time, where it clanged against the ground and drew the attention of the Dark Jedi.
Hateful orange eyes were focused on him, and the anger turned to amusement when he saw what the clone was trying to do. He held a hand out, and the rocket suddenly tore off the ground, headed for his outstretched digits.
With the cry of a blaster, a red bolt cut through his shoulder, leaving him to face the shaking weapon of Corporal Gebb-Ti, who had distracted the Force-user just long enough for Dreamer to grab the rocket and make another attempt at reloading the launcher.
Once it was ready, he raised the weapon, but the Dark Jedi had refocused on him. The corporal refused to let up, however, utilizing his small size to jump away every time a bolt was deflected back at him.
But that still didn't give Dreamer a clear shot. The enemy was still holding his hand out, trying to pull the rocket launcher from the clone's hands. The sergeant held tight, then dove away when the Dark Jedi launched toward him at full speed.
Dreamer barely dodged the lightsaber, but he had just rolled up to his feet when he felt something pull him backward.
Whoever this enemy Force-user was, he wasn't as strong as the Sith he'd seen. He'd witnessed a Sith assassin tear through one man after another and battle one of the Jedi's greatest champions to a standstill. He'd seen General Grievous cleave his brothers by the dozens, spinning his lightsabers and leaving no room for a bolt to punch through.
And he'd heard the wild rumors about Count Dooku, of the Jedi he'd felled and the generals he'd fought.
All three would've killed him before he could've even blinked. Yet whoever this one was, he was nowhere near the same league they were. He wasn't even playing the same game. That Dreamer could struggle against his pull told him that.
That fight gave him enough time to whirl around, aim the weapon at the corner of the wall, and open fire.
The Force-user reached out and stopped the rocket instead of Dreamer, the explosive hovering in mid-air. For a moment, the enemy gave the clone a sick smile, one that mockingly told him that he'd given it a good try, for all that it'd done for him.
Then the blaster fired again from the side, and instead of aiming for the Dark Jedi, the bolt cut into the explosive.
With a detonation that flattened Dreamer, the rocket exploded, throwing the enemy against the wall and leaving the clone on the ground. The sergeant wasn't sure how much more he could take of the jostling and concussive blasts, how many more times he could be rocked by explosions and come out of it still coherent.
But he finally managed to make it to his feet, weapon in hand.
The Dark Jedi was a blackened and charred form on the wall, twisting and writhing. He was trying to get back up, trying to reactivate his weapon, trying to take the clone with him. But Dreamer wasn't having any of it, putting a bolt through the enemy's heart that stilled him for good.
CT-1552 looked up at the field.
All the clones were dead, dispatched by the lightsaber-wielding enemy. The Bothans were nearly gone as well, the battle with the droids and trying to cut into the flank of the agent both leaving them decimated.
Only Corporal Gebb-Ti remained, looking around at his dead brothers and sisters with brown eyes laden with sorrow. When he looked back up, Dreamer removed his helmet, the clone running a hand through his short hair and trying to clear the fuzziness from his head.
"Thanks," Dreamer said. "You saved my life."
"And you gave me the means to win this battle." He looked out at the battlefield. "So many dead, and we're expected to win a war like this?"
"One inch of advance at a time," Dreamer said before turning his transmitter on. "Command, we held off their attack. They had a Force-user with them."
"A Force-user?" asked the same clone he'd last spoken to. "A Jedi?"
"Most assuredly not, sir."
"We'll send a transport to take you, the datapad, the body, the general, and any Bothans still left with you to Coruscant. This is the highest of priority, both the intel and the Force-user. The Jedi will want any details you have."
"And I can deliver the intel all in one swoop," he said. "Roger, Command. Send some body retrieval droids. We have a lot here."
"Roger."