Thanks again STARWARZMYLIFE, Firehawk1100 and KatieBirdy for being my betas for this chapter. I couldn't do it without them.
The First of Many: Part Four
War was a new experience for Mar Tuuk. He studied the act, as all tacticians do. History of past conflicts, ranging from the Jedi Civil War to the Nihil raids during the High Republic era. Notable practitioners such as the Harch, Trench, and the human, Iaco Stark, were just a few who he admired greatly.
All of it was beneficial to his former career as one of the heads of security for the entirety of the Trade Federation. None were foolish enough to attempt any attacks on fleets he was in control of, and those who did, well, let us just say he was made captain of the newly formed Navy of the Confederacy of Independent Systems for a reason.
That being said, his current assignment was a gross misuse of his skills.
Tuuk was currently sitting on the bridge of his flagship, the Procurer. A fleet of ships—all Munificent-class frigates—surrounded the soulless industrial planet, Metalorn, with his flagship being in the center. He was awarded by his superior, General Grievous, to provide protection to one of the vital worlds of the Techno Union when the invasion of the Mid-Rim began.
And began the invasion had—even as he thought no battles would be fought today.
When he agreed to Viceroy Gunray's decision about the Trade Federation joining the Secessionist Movement, he thought he would finally put his skills and intellect as a strategist to the test. To have an opportunity to defeat the brightest minds of the Republic. To be known throughout the galaxy as the Captain Mar Tuuk—not Mar Tuuk, the Trade Federation enforcer.
What he desired was glory—to be another subject that future tacticians would study upon. Conquering planets and spreading the will of the CIS was all a bonus to Tuuk.
"Captain," a droid on the console to his left called out. "We're receiving an incoming transmission from General Grievous."
"Grievous?" Tuuk questioned with a confused expression.
He'd already updated the cyborg of the status of his fleet in the freshly formed war. To ask for another so soon was odd. Unless something else had occurred.
He stood from his chair, folding his hands behind his back. "Patch him through," he ordered.
"Roger, roger."
A large holographic Grievous appeared before him, frizzing into existence. They said holograms added a few inches to individuals, but in the case of Tuuk's superior, this wasn't so. The cyborg's hulking stature was indeed not because of the distortion effect of the projection. The cybernetics was no doubt designed to be imposing, frightening even—the face of the Confederate military.
"L'a heeting, General."
Grievous grumbled at his greeting. "You have new orders, Tuuk."
If it weren't for his data goggles, the General would've seen his eyes grow in excitement. He could feel his heart beating in anticipation at the prospect of the new command. He straightened his back, hoping the act would hide his eagerness.
"What is your command, General?"
"Dooku's ward, Commander Coquer, has proven he is not what I was promised him to be," Grievous said. "You are to take control of his fleet over Elom and finish what he has started. The rest of your fleet can stay here to protect Metalorn."
Tuuk had heard whispers of Dooku picking up a stray and turning him into his ward. Though he was surprised the infamous Count of Serenno granted such a high rank to a mere boy—the ward was a rank below admiral—he wasn't startled with the fact Coquer was a player in this war. The count must be furious that the boy wasn't living up to expectation.
That was what you get for sending a child to do a soldier's job.
"What was his mission?"
"To conquer and turn the inhabitants into slave labor for mining their lommite resources," Grievous answered.
A simple mission. A perfect mission to start his career as a captain in this war. The dwarfnut's loss was his gain. Perhaps he would get a promotion for showing up in Dooku's ward.
Tuuk took a seat in his chair. "The planet will belong to the Confederacy before you know it, General."
Grievous did not leave any parting words, he only flickered out. Tuuk received his new directive. The corner of his mouth curved upward into a grin. Time for him to make a name for himself in this war.
"Droid, set course for Elom." Tuuk interlocked his fingers together. "And give me all the information about the planet and their defense capabilities."
War was a new experience for Mar Tuuk. One he could not wait to familiarize himself with.
Coquer eyed the twenty or so warriors under Amieto's command. Most were brandishing bladed staffs, while others wielded swords or sickles. Only two carried actual firearms. None were clothed with armor or protective gears, only the clothes on their backs.
He mentally sighed, annoyed about his allies' equipment. Honestly, he didn't know why he expected something different. The way they acted on his arrival should've tipped him off about their aversion towards blasters.
Glancing at his own troops, he couldn't help but compare them.
While Amieto commanded barely a platoon of—no doubt highly skilled—warriors, he was a battalion strong, all employed with the latest blasters, launchers, and everything else that would make the pirates wish they never set foot on this planet.
He couldn't help the sick part of his tactical brain, running hypothetical scenarios if Amieto had chosen the sword instead of a pen. It would have been an easy battle—no, it wouldn't even be worth being called that. A skirmish, honestly—a mild inconvenience that he would forget not even a day later. With the multiple corps-sized battle droids he had under his beck and call, the conflict would've ended before sundown.
Amieto and her droid approached him. She had her weapon, a sickle staff, slung on her back and was no longer donning her expensive-looking attire. She was dressed much the same as the rest of her people, with the only real difference was that she now wore a pair of vambraces.
She stopped in front of him, greeting him with her culture's welcoming way.
Coquer let a tiny smile creep its way onto his face. I'm happy that we were able to talk it out.
Amieto spoke but it sounded more like a grunt than actual words to him. Her protocol droid was quick to translate.
"We have arrived as requested, Coquer of the Confederacy. And I must say, we are quite honored that you contacted us to help you remove our brethren's pirate problem."
He raised a confused brow, staring at Amieto. She crossed her arms with an irritated frown on her face as she waited for his reply. She looked like she would rather take a swim in the lava seas of Mustafar than be even remotely polite to him. He guessed the droid was doing its duties as being the peacemaker between them. Hopefully, this little excursion would deepen their relationship.
"The honor is all mine," said Coquer. "Any enemy of the Elom or the Elomin is an enemy of the Confederacy."
Amieto rolled her eyes, muttering. Apparently, it was humorous based on the chuckles from her people. Her droid stuttered, almost sounding embarrassed from being in her company. It tried to scold her, but simply moving her hand to her weapon made the droid clamp up. The machine bowed, repenting by the look of it.
She focused back on him. She talked, and unlike last time, it sounded like a real sentence by an actual adult rather than a begrudging greeting from a child.
"Oh, um." The droid quickly stood upright, facing Coquer. "Chieftain Amieto asks where the pirates are. Was she right to assume you know their whereabouts?"
Coquer nodded. "That I do."
He reached inside his pocket and produced a holoprojector. He pressed a button and tossed it onto the ground. A large hologram of a cliff with tall ridges on both sides appeared before them.
Coquer walked through the projection, standing by Amieto's side. "This is where the pirates are. They're a few klicks from here—about two or three hours on foot."
He pointed at the ridges. "As you can see, these pirates are somewhat smart. They made camp in an area where it would be difficult to conduct a surprise attack, unless you want yourselves to be exhausted from trekking up the steep slope or climbing up a mountain, that is."
Amieto let out a thoughtful hum. "So the only way to them is this open passage, here?" her droid asked as she directed his attention to the area she was referring to.
"For us, yes."
She turned to him, confused. "Us?"
"Well, to be more precise, us organics," he clarified. "The pirates believe themselves to be hidden with the ridges around them. If you or the Elom stumble upon them, it would be through this passage. It is the logical idea for any traveler to conduct such an action."
He continued, "anyone who may come through would immediately be mowed down with no clear way to maneuver, forced to retreat where they come from. It is practically suicide."
Amieto's eyes narrowed at him, scowling. She barked what seemed to be heated words at him.
"Oh, uh, I'm not going to translate that Chieftain Amieto." The droid seemed to be uncomfortable to even hear whatever colorful labels she called him. "What Chieftain Amieto said, 'so my people are just cannon fodder for you and your droids.'"
Coquer looked offended, hurt even, by her words. "No, far from it. You and your men, as well as I, are the most crucial part of this plan."
The fierceness of her eyes slowly retreated. "And that is?"
"It's better that I show you."
He rolled his left sleeve up, revealing a black wristband. Pressing a button on it, the projection changed to that of a saucer-shaped starship.
"This is the pirates' ship; a Corona-class frigate," he explained. "I had my probes survey every inch of the land, spying on everything they say or do."
He looked at Amieto. "And they are about to leave the planet."
Her eyes widened before lunging at him, grabbing his shoulders. His droids raised their blasters and her men much the same.
She snarled as she spoke to him. "Chieftain Amieto demands to know why we haven't struck them if they are about to flee."
"Because, they are about to throw one last hurrah before evacuating," he answered, coolly. "Where, they would be greatly inhibited from the amount of liquor they no doubt would drink. And, under the mask of darkness, our suicide run would be a winnable one."
After the droid finished translating, it seemed Amieto grasped what his plan was. She released him, and both sides lowered their arms.
"She understands now why you haven't attacked yet, but she is curious on how you will stop the pirates from fleeing once we prove to them they have lost."
Coquer smiled at the question. It took him quite a while to discover a solution to that problem. If it weren't for B1-259 and 853's loud stomping, he would never have come to such a conclusion.
"We make as much noise as possible."
Gat and Mous grunted as they both kicked the skinless Elom corpse off the cliff. Gat rolled his shoulders, loosening the stiffness in them. He always forgot how heavy the giant fuzz-balls were. His nose crinkled, pulling up the collar of his shirt to block the unholy scent.
"Ugh, Quay those bastards smell," Gat grumbled.
Mous chuckled, slapping him on the back. "You were a hunter before, right? Just think of them as banthas."
He snorted a chuckle. "Banthas smell like damn asyrs compared to these muppets."
Mous laughed, and Gat joined in. He liked his fellow buccaneer, viewing him more of a little brother as the days went by. While still green behind the ears, Mous had the opportunistic heart of a true pirate. That was why he knew that Nikito would accept his offer of joining Yagonn's little side adventure. For someone as fresh as Mous, credits were always the perfect motivator, no matter how grizzly it might be to gain them.
Gat walked to the two buckets of water a few steps away from them. Crouching, he dipped his hand in the bucket on the left, washing away the blood and stray strands of fur. The other was littered with used knives and other skinning tools, turning the once clear water into a grimy red. Standing up, he wiped his hands dry against his shirt. Mous washed his hands next. Once both cleaned, they started making their way back to camp.
The life of a pirate wasn't glamorous—far from it—but damn was it a wealthy one. Gat earned more in a rotation than he did in the twenty years he spent as a hunter on his desert homeworld, then the ten afterwards as a bounty hunter combined. Freedom was also a great bonus, giving him a chance to be a person, not another drone that was part of a clan.
They reached the camp and a small fire in the center illuminated the area, showering the campsite in an orange glow. Their fellow pirates and lowlifes surrounded the contained flame, drinking and joking the night away. They must have been in good spirits from today's haul. After giving the buyers what they paid for, they had enough leftover to sell it to other swanky senators who wanted to flaunt their wealth and power to their friends.
"Hey, Gat," one of the drunk Weequay called out, slurring her words. "Yagonn is looking for ya. He's on the ship."
"Thanks for the heads up, Soli." He turned to face Mous, grinning. "Save me some ale, will ya? I don't trust those fools to spare water for a dying man."
Mous let out an amused snort. "Gotcha mate."
They bumped forearms before separating. Gat could hear the drunken hollers from Mous joining their brethren. He shook his head, smiling at the distancing rowdy sound of the crew. If there was anything the Ohnaka gang was known for, it was their celebrations.
He entered the starship. The place was a mess, cluttered with each member's belongings and trash. Cleanliness was not the highest on their list of priorities. Walking through the junk, he made his way to the common area. Yagonn was there, staring at a hologram of a city. He looked deep in thought. Gat could see his lips pursed in a thin line and his arms crossed over his chest.
Gat approached from behind, slapping Yagonn on the back. "Hey, Yagonn." The head of this little expedition didn't flinch from the sudden act, only continuing to gaze at the projection. "Assuming ya want me cause of yer plan to get off this planet?"
"Guessed right," Yagonn answered. "I've seen some ships come and go with no issue with the fleet above, so that got me thinking—why not do the same." He uncrossed his arms, resting his hands on his hips. He nodded to the hologram. "This is the Elomin capital, Elos. It's not that far from here, probably a day or two travel on speeder-bike. They have tons of merchant ships ripe for the picking, and I think it's time for ya to relieve one off their hands."
Gat chuckled, grinning at the proposed plan. Seizing other's goods was a pirate's specialty. Usually, it was a bit of a challenge. Planning, sneaking past guards, snuffing out a poor bloke or two. Since the Elomin didn't favor blasters like the rest of the galaxy, they wouldn't stand a chance against anything that would come their way.
Easy day.
"I'll give you a ship in no time, Yagonn. Am I doing this solo or can I pick a partner?"
"Mous can come with ya, Gat," Yagonn replied with a knowing grin. "You're too soft on the boy, mate. Soli already thinks ya going to adopt the Nikto."
"He needs to learn the ropes," Gat said, shrugging. "Best to do it with a professional, nothing more."
"Uh-huh." Yagonn rolled his eyes. "Anyways, when getting us a ship, grab a couple of hostages. That should deter the locals from chasing us."
"Smart," Gat commented. "We could tell Hondo that we found them at Vanqor, then sell them off to the Hutts."
Yagonn grinned. "I like the way you—"
A loud explosion detonated from outside, interrupting their conservation with its deafening boom. The ship trembled from the shockwave, forcing the two to grab the hologram emitter to balance themselves. Gat could hear shouting and blaster fire—the distinctive sounds of a firefight.
Who the hell is fighting us?
Yagonn was the first to recover, running to the wall where blasters were hanging from. He grabbed a blaster lance and tossed it to Gat. He brandished the same rifle from the wall. They took the rifle off safety and bolted out of the ship.
Gat was welcomed with the sight of the Elomin clashing against his mates. He couldn't help but wonder why the damned horned savages were attacking them. They hadn't crossed them...yet.
He moved quickly, Yagonn following closely behind. They slid behind a crate, backs against it. Gat popped over the top, taking aim at one of the Elomin, firing a clean shot at their chest. The brute fell down like a sack of potatoes. He continued to fire at the advancing enemy.
"What's the plan, Yagonn?" he shouted over the loud sound of combat.
Yagonn joined in with assault, each shot hitting their mark. "Push those kameenon back. There's not a lot of them, and most are not even carrying blasters." He went back into cover, pointing at the far end. "Help out Mous and the others. I'll snipe from here."
Gat nodded, hearing the orders loud and clear. "Copy that, boss."
Author's Note: Special shout out to Trado for his suggestion of adding Mar Tuuk to the story. He was a last minute addition to the plot, and one I'm happy of adding. He will be more prevalent near the end of Year One of the war. I hope I did him justice since, like Trado alluded to in his comment, he needs more screen time since he's overlooked a lot in fics.
I'm looking for someone to draw a cover for this story. If you know someone who is great at drawing star wars theme characters, PM me so I can hit them up.
One last thing. There will be no update for November due to me going out to sea to prepare for deployment. I'm planning on uploading the last chapter of the arc before I leave, and one when I get back. I'm sorry I'm putting this story on another hiatus after such a long one.
Till Next Time