Precipice by shadowsong26

Part 4: Commander

Commander: Chapter 1

Obi-Wan very rarely planned or staged operations this close to Empire Day.

Part of the reason was practical-security was usually tighter just about everywhere worth hitting, and the value in risking it anyway was more symbolic than substantive. Not that symbolic gestures didn't have their place. For a resistance movement, in particular, they could be vital. But the fact of the matter was he didn't have the resources to spare for a grand statement, and nothing less would be worth the risk. A loss during Founding Week would be as devastating to his network's morale as a victory would be beneficial.

Or perhaps it was better to say another loss.

It was...a difficult week for him, to say the least. Which was the other, entirely personal, reason he kept himself on the sidelines this time of year. Obi-Wan preferred to take the day-as much of the week as he could, really-and retreat somewhere for quiet contemplation, and to ensure that his motives remained what they should be. Revenge, after all, was not the Jedi way, and he worried that taking direct action at such a time might well push him to cross a line.

Either that, or he might somehow shut down, which would be an entirely different disaster.

Anakin, he knew, had a different approach. Apart from Leia's birthday, which was sacrosanct, he preferred to keep busy, not allow himself to brood or fixate on all that had happened six years ago. Rex seemed to favor the same strategy. And there was almost always something he could find for the two of them to do. Despite the practical concerns. This year, he had set them to a task similar to Anakin's first field mission under the new system-they were to use the cover of the...celebration...to acquire a set of code keys. It would hopefully be sufficient to keep them occupied until it was time for them to return to the farm.

For his own part, he had one more-hopefully quick-operation to run, then he would go somewhere nice and quiet, out of the way. He hadn't yet decided where he would go. Somewhere close to Tatooine, perhaps, so he could easily meet the others at the farm for Leia's birthday.

That, however, was a decision for another day. Today's problem were significantly less emotionally taxing-making contact with a rebel cell who had requested his aid and experience, and helping them plan and execute their operation on a very tight timeframe.

He had worked with this particular cell before, on two occasions. They were ten, largely human with two Nautolan compatriots. Internal tensions existed, but not to the extent he'd seen in other groups. They knew he was a Jedi, but not his specific identity. He was, of course, rather more famous than he had ever liked, but a hood and mask seemed to have handled that potential concern. They knew him as Ben, and he knew them as a set of code names. Safer that way, for all of them.

(Although, he had to admit, it gave rise to a touch of bittersweet nostalgia-their aliases were often all too similar to the names the clones had chosen for themselves.)

The planet was a sparsely-populated one, with areas of dense woodland that were extremely useful for concealing-well, probably several things, including some he'd really rather not contemplate. For a ten-member rebel cell, three of whom had been born and raised here, melting in and out of the cover the trees provided was child's play.

They had moved their base since his last visit, but he was meeting with one of their number-a short, slender young man who had been introduced to him as Reckoning-who would guide him in.

As planned, Reckoning was waiting for him at the same rendezvous point they'd used previously, sitting on a rock with no visible weapons-should any patrol come through this area, unlikely thought that was, he was simply a local youth out for a walk on a charming afternoon.

Obi-Wan, alas, was a little more conspicuous. Best they got moving quickly.

Reckoning scrambled up when he saw him, and gave a slightly awkward salute. "Good to see you, Ben. Any problems coming in?"

He shook his head. "No. Anything I should be aware of before we get there?"

Cleaver, the group's nominal leader-they made all important decisions as a collective, but someone had to oversee the details once said decisions had been made-had given Obi-Wan a somewhat sketchy briefing when he'd reached out a few days earlier. There was a sizeable stockpile of the components used to make blaster power packs currently being guarded by the local garrison. Its exact provenance, let alone its final destination, was-well, if Cleaver had known, he hadn't shared those details with Obi-Wan. But it was there, and they had reliable information that it would not be after Empire Day.

The plan was, of course, to retrieve the half-made ammunition and redirect as much of it as possible to someone who would put it to better use. But Cleaver and his cell had never hit anything quite so large as this garrison, not with so little time to plan.

And so, Obi-Wan was here. One last, quick mission before his yearly retreat.

"No," Reckoning was saying. "Cleaver's got a scale model of the base worked up for you to plan from. We're still finalizing the patrol schedule, but we should have enough to go on real soon."

"Right," he said, following half a pace behind Reckoning, deeper into the woods. He could certainly work with that.

The trek wasn't very long-only about a quarter of an hour or so; the base was what looked like an abandoned forester or ranger's hut, the sort used to keep an eye out for lost hikers or forest fires. Reckoning tapped in a complicated pattern that Obi-Wan absently memorized-not that it would do him any good, as it would likely be changed before he returned, even if the cell hadn't moved again.

Cleaver himself opened the door. He was a large, solidly built man, half a head taller even than Anakin. He nodded. "Good to see you, Ben. Glad you could get here so quick."

"As am I," Obi-Wan said, with a brief bow, then followed the two of them in.

Almost the entire cell was gathered inside. The only one missing was Moonshot, the female Nautolan of the group-probably, given what Reckoning had said, mapping patrols. She was what passed for the cell's scout and intelligence officer.

And the promised model of the base was waiting for him, on a less-than-sturdy looking table in the center of the small room.

"Stationary guards are marked with red exes," the male Nautolan, whose handle Obi-Wan couldn't recall at the moment, said.

"Right." He studied the base for a moment, noting the exes and extrapolating a rough estimate of the other troops that would be inside based on their number and dispersal. "East is that way?" he asked, pointing to the wall on the right, as one approached the model from the door.

"Yeah," he replied-Lucky, that was his name; Obi-Wan remembered it now.

He nodded again and fell silent, tallying up the numbers and weapons they had at their disposal. "And the stockpile is there?" He pointed at a room in the southeast corner of the complex, backed up against a mountain. It's where most people would store something so valuable-next to impossible to approach unseen, with a solid natural defense to add to what he could build.

"Yeah," Lucky said again.

"Right, then," he said. "I would suggest we split into two teams." He outlined the basic sketch of his plan-he would take Moonshot and Reckoning and approach from due east, with the sunrise at their backs hopefully distorting their movements at least a little. Cleaver would lead the rest around from another direction, creating a diversion while the three of them managed the actual theft.

It was straightforward enough, at least in theory. He doubted that would last very long; it rarely did. But Reckoning thought fast on his feet, and Moonshot knew the base best of anyone in the cell. Any additional maneuvering he would have to do once they were in play would work better with the two of them.

"Any questions?" he asked, when he was done. There were a few-and Cleaver had a few suggestions of his own; one of the reasons he liked working with this group, they could think for themselves, and weren't shy about pointing out when their knowledge of the environment would outweigh his field experience.

They had almost finalized everything-at least, insofar as they could while waiting for the last few pieces of intel-when another, slightly different, complex knock came at the door.

Ah, that would be our scout, I presume.

And, sure enough, Moonshot stepped through the door and joined them at last. She was carrying a datapad, where she had noted down the patrol patterns. She tossed it to Obi-Wan, who skimmed through it, making a few minor adjustments to their overall plan as they went.

"Any problems?" Cleaver asked her, while she grabbed a canteen from Lucky and took a swig.

"Possibly," she said. "I didn't get caught or anything, but there may be an additional complication."

Cleaver swore under his breath. "Yeah?"

"Navy ship just jumped into the system."

The group went still for a split second, and Obi-Wan looked up from the datapad, frowning. That could be...very, very bad.

"'Cause of us?" Reckoning asked.

"Doubtful," Obi-Wan said, before that particular thread of paranoia could spiral out of control. And it was-while the cell was known to be active in the system, their plans shouldn't have leaked. It had come together too quickly for that. Still, "Do you have their position?" he asked Moonshot. Because it couldn't hurt to check, anyway.

She nodded, and he passed the datapad back to her so she could call up the coordinates.

He studied the readout over her shoulder for a minute, and then at last shook his head. "Looks like a routine stop or patrol," he said. "Unfortunate timing, but it's unlikely we've been compromised."

The others, almost as one, let out a breath of relief. "Still," Cleaver pointed out, "them being here means the base could call for reinforcements. Air support, faster than they can scramble their squadron."

"Do we abort, then?" Moonshot asked, looking from Cleaver to Obi-Wan and back again.

And Cleaver looked at him. Nominal leader of the cell or not, he had asked for Ben's help on this one for a reason.

Obi-Wan considered for a moment, keeping his hands still-quite apart from the mask being rather in the way, stroking his beard might be an identifiable enough tic that he tried not to do it under these circumstances. A difficult habit to break. "Do we have an ID on that ship?" he asked.

Moonshot nodded. "It's the Thunder Wasp. I think they're mostly assigned to chasing down pirates and such."

Not one he was familiar with, so no help there. Unfortunate-often, knowing the personalities of who he was dealing with made all the difference. What I wouldn't give to have a proper intelligence network again.

"It's your call," he finally said. "It will be more difficult, certainly. And I won't lie to you-if we proceed under these circumstances, our chances of getting out clean drop significantly. But we can do it, and I doubt there will be another opportunity like this one." He wished, briefly, that Anakin were here, instead of on his own mission-long odds like these were something of a speciality for his erstwhile apprentice.

But Anakin was not, and he could make this work with the resources he and his team had.

Cleaver nodded, and turned to the group. "Show of hands, then. Abort?"

Lucky and one other voted; the rest stayed still.

"All right," Cleaver said. "Well, the rest of us are going forward. You two can decide for yourselves. Ben, will that work?"

Obi-Wan made a few quick calculations in his head-he would prefer not to drag anyone unwilling into a situation like this, anyway. Dropping their numbers from eleven to nine decreased their chances, but-not by enough to change his opinion. "Yes, we'll manage."

Lucky shook his head. "Not leaving you all to do something this stupid without me. Blueline?"

She nodded. "Yeah. What he said."

"All right, then," Cleaver said.

Well, if they volunteered anyway, he would take it. He studied the map one more time, considering the angles the Thunder Wasp was likeliest to use on its way down, should it come to that. "Slight modification, then. Cleaver, you take your team around to this approach, from the south-west. The rest of us will go ahead as planned. Same timeframe, ideally. Any further questions?"

A general shaking of heads served for an answer.

"Good," he said, then checked the time. "We've got some time to get in position. Moonshot, you're with me and Reckoning. I'd like to head out in two hours." That should give them enough time to deploy themselves under cover of darkness, without having to wait there and risk being stumbled upon by a sentry of any kind.

She nodded. "Sounds good, boss."

He paused for a moment, then added, "Reckoning can brief you on the details. Cleaver, I'd like to review what weapons you have. Anything new since I was here last?"

"Few things," he said, and Obi-Wan could hear the smile in his voice. "Nice Weequay smuggler came through here a couple months back."

Hondo, Obi-Wan thought. Always turning up at either the best or the worst possible time. Never the middle ground with you. "Show me?" he asked.

He nodded. "Right this way."

It was probably unnecessary-and it certainly shouldn't change the plan too much, but one never knew. There might even be something he could use, if Cleaver was willing to lend it. And it was a productive use of his time before they got moving.

Thunder Wasp or not, things were going well, for now. In all likelihood, this would wrap up within a local rotation, and he would be on his way before the base even pieced together that a Jedi had been involved.

He had a nagging feeling, though, that this mission was somehow going to get very complicated, very fast. And while fixating on that feeling would probably do more harm than good, he could hardly ignore it.

Besides. It couldn't hurt to be prepared. Just in case.

Original Author's Notes: So, uh, it is not super easy to write someone who is Very Smart and an expert in things which hopelessly confuse you. ...which is to say, any tactical errors in this chapter/Obi-Wan's portion of this arc are mine, not his. Apologies for them, and here's hoping they're not too bad. 3

~shadowsong