What was started as an effort to fulfil a request regarding a reaction chap of how the Chaos Gods think of the Caretakers. Sort of went in a different direction altogether. Again. I'll get to it loyal commentor! Eventually...
Tired. So tired.
Just want to sleep.
Nothing to do.
Nothing to see.
Tired.
So very tired.
So many little things, always wanting attention.
Sleep, just want to sleep.
So many things, so little things.
Just want to sleep.
"Admiral Sir! We are firing everything we have at the beast but nothing we do does any damage!" Shouted the Comms officer, his ears inundated by reports from the Battle Fleet.
It had come out of nowhere, or perhaps it had always been there. A vast behemoth of coalesced stars, spanning thousands of kilometers across at the most narrow point, moving, ever so slowly across the galaxy. It had an effect on voidcraft or anything that went near it, diverting them away ever so slightly so that they would not collide with it. A being so vast that it should have been impossible. Yet here it was, something the size of… something big. They had nothing they could compare it to.
It was enormous and it was on the way to the Eye of Terror, its massive bulk ponderously making its way over. The only reason they could see it at all was because one of its massive eyes had opened while it was near the Cruiser Lament of Destruction, the all those who had glimpsed its dread eye driven mad from the experience. This beginning its tale of madness and woe.
The pict-caps of the bridge saw the crew almost immediately fall to their knees, clawing out their eyes in a fit of frenzy before offering them up on hands like altars. Their voices crying out, "Mercy please have mercy". It was not long before that was not enough, their bodies shuddering as veins, both real and sudden protruded from their skin, the surface of which looked like the surface of a battlefield, lines and pockmarks all over. Their screams continued unabated as the marks grew larger and larger, expanding into corpulent long vessels, their bodies now resembling a network of vines, growing ever in size. Only to stop, the screams stopping, their movement stopping and their bodies no longer shivering, the vines of blood and flesh ceasing their jittering. A moment of peace.
Before the bodies exploded in fountains of blood, no flesh left behind, all of it, into blood, pools, and lakes of blood. The force of the explosion so great that it painted the entire bridge in what remained of the crew. Scans and searches by the Adeptus Mechanicus and the Inquisition had shown it to be nothing but blood, no pathogens or even bones, organs, blood vessels, no. It was just blood, as if their entire being had been converted to blood. It had ruled out the presence of the Ruinous Powers but it was still there, the Inquisition searching the general area.
The crew had been executed in an attempt to keep the news silent and it had worked, until the discovery by a freighter crew of another, civilian liner. Inside they had reported were passageways and rooms filled with blood and clothing yet no bone or organs. Further exploration had found rooms in which there were survivors, the key word being "were." They too had ripped out their eyes, placing them on whatever vantage points they could above the floor. One had even used the skull of her mother to keep them in, four eyes, two sockets.
Not to be content there, they had scrawled on the walls, on the floor, on the tables, on whatever surface was available, their hands clear and determined. The words,
"The Eyes, The Eyes, Beware The Eyes. The Eyes See All, The Eyes Know All. Beware The Eyes. For To See, All Is To Know All. To Know All Is To Know All."
The words repeating themselves in the same manner but in different configurations or wordings, the lower-born passengers using Low Gothic colloquialisms and the nobles using High Gothic. Yet the message was clear, it had something to do with eyes, to see the eye was to be driven to madness, to even be in the presence of the eye was to be driven to madness.
It was worrying and it was too late, the freighter had already docked and the story had spread throughout the station, the world and to the many outbound ships, each telling a more exaggerated and terrifying story. The Inquisition could no longer keep the story silent, the wagging tongues of sailors more than a match for the vice-grip the Inquisition kept on the information.
Regardless its predations continued for a century, ships in roughly the same region of the void journeying through it, an eye suddenly opening and those on board being driven to madness and death or simply death. Their agony being painted with their blood, their attempts to escape the knowledged passed unto them leading them to rip out their eyes and dash their brains across whatever surface came into handy.
That is not to say that all of them perished, however. There were two categories of survivors that had been retrieved either by the Inquisition, or by patrol ships/freighters who had then handed them over to the Inquisition when requested. The first was they who had been driven mad by the Eye but were also curiously sane.
Their mad ramblings whilst being interrogated or simply asked, they cared not what and their flesh seemingly felt no pain, had been centered around a figure called "K'th'kum'da", a strange word that sounded as if it was meant to be "Commander". Regardless, this figure, the K'th'kum'da was a sleeping beast, the "Sleeper" as they called it. When pressed they simply recited a phrase, the same phrase, no matter the time and distance that separated them.
"In the Darkness of the Depths,
The Sleeper Dreams,
In the Ocean of Darkness,
The Ships made Flesh Await,
In the Time of Ending,
The Legions of Machine Made Flesh Await,
In the Eternal Game,
The Chitter Consciousnesses Await,
In the Worlds of Doom,
The Enslaved Await,
When the Sleeper Awakes,
All Shall Seek."
Something was imprinting the knowledge directly into their minds and the Inquisition wished to know what it was. Entire fleets were going missing, their crews and passengers likely sharing the same grisly fate, their bodies displayed across the walls, ceilings, and floors.
The second type of survivor was they who survived because they had seen the Eye through man-made lenses. They who saw the Eye through a Pict-Corder, a shield by which to shelter the fragile mind from the knowledge of the eye. As it was, so long as one eye was unshielded, they still ripped it out, most of them surviving with but one eye left.
This remaining eye both vexed and intrigued the Inquisition, it being able to see information about the world that should not have been possible. Able to see the names of all around them, who the servitors had been made from, where the metal of their cells had been from and the truth of what the Inquisitors said. They could simply see everything and it was disconcerting, their perception spread to every aspect of their being, as if they now had precognition, an ability to avoid all the stubbed toes in existence. They were infuriating to talk to, knowing everything that one was about to say before they actually said it.
Their recordings however, had given the Inquisition the direct visual depictions of the Eye, or rather it would have if the Servitors that had seen it, had not begun to bleed. The Inquisition in their paranoia had provided the Pict-Cast to their servitors to see, their bodies bubbling ferociously around their metallic parts before melting into a pool of blood, that measured several times that of what the Servitor actually had in flesh. Their slaves had suffered the same fate, their screams echoing at several decibels higher than their vocal cords should have been able to produce, their bodies falling apart even as they clawed at the observation glass with the strength to shatter it.
Glass that had been treated to resist a Space Marine's fist, shattered in an instant. It had put the Inquisitors off before one of their kind, a radical had found a means by which to view the eye without being driven either mad or dead. His "chats" with one of the first group of survivors giving him inspiration. It was not that the second group had been looking through their Pict-Corders that had saved them he said, rather it was the fact that they were looking at it differently.
Their Pict-Corders had been of an ancient design, inverting the light it received in order to better record it. It was this inversion that was the key, simply looking at the Eye from a different perspective was the key.
He had been considered insane until his "upside-down" goggles had allowed the slaves and the servitors to look upon the Eye and not be driven insane. The purity of the upside down vision compared to the re-flipped Pict-Corders preserving their sanity. It was not a foolproof method, prolonged exposure still drove one insane, a more subtle, cultish insane but still insane. One month of prolonged exposure was necessary, two weeks with a two-week break was optimal to retain the sanity of the wearers.
In other words, in order to better see the Eye, to better combat it, to better gaze upon it at all, they had to wear specially designed helmets with the inversion goggles built in, or they were doomed to die frothing their own blood. It looked rather stupid, a half-sphere with a large protrusion where the eyes were, but when everyone wore them, nobody dared to laugh.
There was a drawback however, the goggles had to be reversed when the eyes became accustomed to seeing the world upside down, naturally adjusting that it looked the right way again. They needed to reverse it, for if they did not, they once again were at the mercy of the explosions of blood that occurred around the Eye.
Still, these contraptions had been effective and it had allowed them to finally find the Eye. It was not an Eye, but rather it was a Beast. A Beast that was made up of thousands upon thousands of Eyes. A Beast that made even Luna look small, a planetoid in its own right, a vast being that only went unnoticed due to the strange effect it had on objects near it and the fact that it looked as if it were the very stars themselves.
Black as night with flecks of light.
And so they had tracked the Beast as it was now called, better than "Creature" at least or "Eyes" and found that it was a slow but inexorable course towards the Eye of Terror. The entire mass slowly drifting through the Void under what appeared to be inertia, predictions putting it at nearly 2000 years before it finally made contact. Still that was 2000 years too little and the Inquisition had sent survey teams to find out exactly what they were doing.
Reasoning that perhaps it was like a Void Whale, merely with madness and death instead of a harmless behemoth. They had learnt that the hard way when the first teams landed on the Beast, its strange effect circumvented by teleporting teams directly aboard or using torpedoes to deliver them. Anything with sufficient momentum was enough to break past the barrier it used to guide ships and debris over and away from it.
When they landed, they learnt very quickly that it was not a Void Whale. The teams that landed immediately cut contact, their screams reverberating through the Vox system before they too exploded. The Power Armour very quickly deforming and the seals bulging before the helmet came off and a fountain of blood shot out, like bursting pustules of flesh. They in their Void suits, without the strength and rigidity of Power Armour instead burst, like small balloons that had been pricked with a needle. The blood drifting up before being swept away like the other debris had made their way toward it.
The Inquisition had been rather annoyed and it had resulted in them deploying a Battle Fleet to engage it. Anything to stop it reaching the Eye of Terror, there need not be more madness in that place.
Hence why the Admiral was on the bridge, staring at the holo-display.
Nothing they had was working, he would signal the retreat and they would think up a better plan, clearly shooting it with everything they had was not working, more drastic measures would need to be applied.
Bob, the Emperor of Mankind stood in a soulscape that resembled an ancient terran cinema, beside an androgynous figure that barely reached up to his chest in height.
"So I spend another 10,000 years like this?" He asked, gesturing at the him, entombed on the Golden Throne, slowly rotting away, his body already failing.
"Yes" Replied the figure, voice warbling as its 3 individual voices merged into one.
"Why?" He asked again, feeling rather indignant about the whole thing. It was not every day that you found out that you were going to conquer a galaxy and it was not every day when one of your sons was going to betray you and turn to Chaos, the very thing he had designed them to fight against.
"Why did you not immediately destroy your son when he challenged you?" Asked the figure, reversing the time of the display to show the scene where Bob had confronted Horus on his flagship.
"Because I wanted to see if he was redeemable." Said the Emperor, guessing at what alternate universe Bob was thinking. He knew that if this had happened in this one, he would have done the same thing. No parent wants to destroy their child.
"Not…. quite the answer we were looking for." The figure said, twirling a little as it did so. There was a note of minor disappointment to be heard on its voice.
"... What did you have in mind?" Asked Bob, curious as to what the figure would have done in the same situation.
"We were thinking more along the lines of it being entertaining to see one immeasurably weaker than ourselves trying to batter us down. Pleasure in watching one try against adverse odds, knowing that it will never succeed but wishing it could." Grinned the figure, hands waving about expressively.
"For entertainment then. You do not interfere because you wish to see those below you struggle in the dirt?" Bob said, indignation rising. The figure was like the Eldar, confident in their superiority and complacent as a result. The very same complacency resulting in them literally fucking a god of chaos into existence.
The figure turned to him and smiled, an eerie expression. Its eyes were dead, the facial cues of a smile missing, the only way it could be classified as such was because the lips were curved upwards. In all honesty, it looked as if it were a servitor doing the smile, only approximating human emotion because of its subroutines.
"Why would we interfere with the control sample?" Asked the figure. Head cocked to represent askance, again looking alien. Its eerie lack of expression and body language making it seem as if the body was being puppeted.
As the conglomeration of the most powerful beings of the human race, Bob was aware of the horrors of the Warp, of its denizens which he had spent millennia beating back as they tried to invade Terra. He had on his journeys through the stars seen and experienced more than anyone had any right to. From Dark Eldar prostitutes in their infamous "2 for 1" sale to watching a documentary recorded by the Hrud and all the time shenanigans that entailed.
He had seen vast battles featuring the Eldar and the Necrons as they wrestled for control of various planets, the molecular disintegrators beaming bright neon green as they crossed the void. The Eldar using weapons only visible through the lens of the Warp, striking out against the soulless Necrons. While it appeared like a large piece of plastic striking against the Necron, in actuality it was the condensed and physically manifested force of the Warp striking them down. The forcible contact with the Warp tearing them apart as their very bodies disintegrated.
The Eldar took horrendous casualties to do so, 5 for every Necron ship. The vast fleets floating in the void of space as they recovered. From there he had attended the mundane lectures and debates presided over by the Squats on their homeworlds to the vast and technological performances of the Thyrrus as they lived their everyday lives, all of it dedicated to the grand performance.
It was only this experience that allowed him to look upon the figure and not recoil immediately in horror when first seeing it.
He had been leading his fleet as part of the Great Crusade when a pulse of energies had woken him from his delving of the Warp. This energy had a very clear and definitive starting location, its lingering in the Warp making it extremely easy to direct the course of the fastest ship of the fleet to its origination point. Something of that much power could not be allowed to simply sit in one place, what if the Eldar found it and diddled with it, dooming them all?
So he forced the ship to power straight to it, a Warp Jump directly to the location. A single jump through the horrors of the Warp itself. When the Gellar Fields failed, he held off the Daemons with his will alone, when the ship began to drift too far off course, he punched it with his mind back into place. His will saw them through and deposited before an unassuming desert world, possibly even a death world of some kind.
The energies originated from here, however, Bob the Emperor of Mankind did not immediately teleport straight down. He took a day to recuperate, what was down there likely would require is full strength to fight or comprehend… or even both. It might even be like fighting the Void Dragon again, that had certainly been fun he considered.
Upon making planetfall, the Emperor made his way into the only structure on the planet, a cube-like building barely a Land Raider in height. Its design harking back to the fallout shelters of ancient Terra. He was joined by a cadre of his Custodes, Valdor as always by his side. They made their way to the structure and were greeted by a large cog like device blocking the entrance. Carved into the ring around it was a message in Latin, yet another remnant of ancient Terra.
Curious the Emperor considered as he spoke the answer to the question, "2 2 = 4".
Inside was a very simple elevator in seemingly perfect condition, very strange given the fate of the rest of the planet. It dropped with an acceleration that made even the Custodes uncomfortable until it evened out, velocity clearly just below supersonic if the effect on their speech was any indication. Also, the auspexes contained in their armour were giving the same readings, should have checked those first.
The descent into bowels of the planet reached its conclusion when they were about 3000 meters into the crust. Considering that there was no noticeable change in temperature, their technology was clearly of a very high standard.
When the gates slid to the side and the blast doors opened, what greeted the Emperor and his Companions was very much… different from what he was expecting. A single figure wearing a gown of black, with purple lining and teal trimming, reminiscent of the clothing worn by the Romans from ancient Terra. Wracking his mind, the Emperor recalled that it was called a "toga".
"Good morning Emperor of Mankind. We have been waiting." The voice or rather voices had said. The sound being something completely foreign. It was only after a moment's thought that the Emperor noted exactly what was going on, the figure was speaking to him through his mind, the sounds merely there as a formality. A check on his Companions saw that they too had heard the voices in their minds. Indeed it was voices, somehow the figure spoke as if there were 3 of them instead of one, something that translated to the sound which made very little sense. Seeing as there was only one voice box he could see on its throat.
Still, it knew what he was and it was clearly waiting for him… it said so directly. "I am the Emperor. What are you?" He said, regal and commanding. He flexed a little psykic muscle, enough to send an entire Space Marine Legion to its knees as a test. Either it would submit, or there was something else going on. He who was unmatched by all except the Gods of Chaos did not want another complication on this Great Crusade, it was already a big enough pain in the behind that he had to search for the Primarchs who had been lost.
In fact, the Great Crusade was just beginning when he made his way to this planet, his fleets having just picked up Horus, the first of the Primarchs. In fact, Horus was here with them now, his presence in the back more out of protection for him than anything else. He was still young and had not fully grown into his abilities as of yet. Not to mention his set of Power Armour which both restricted and enhanced his abilities. If something went wrong, the young Primarch would be safer by his side than in orbit.
"We are MAGI and we have been waiting." The figure said before it turned and began to float down what the corridor that they had stepped into. The four of them, Horus, two Custodes and the Emperor had no choice but to follow. Their steps heavy and purposeful as their Power Armour stomped its way down the corridor following MAGI.
MAGI was waiting for them at the end of the corridor. The ethereal figure hovering in the air, the androgynous features not giving away whether or not it was male or female. The Emperor felt confident in asking the question since it was very clearly human judging from its facial structure as well as the hands and feet that were visible.
What was not human was its soul, a black void, or rather a black covering of the Warp. It was peculiar and alien, truly alien. He had never seen something like it before and it was truly confusing. It was enough to tickle his curiosity, something that had not happened in nearly 5000 years, enough to have him following the being that called itself MAGI.
As they met MAGI at a seemingly random point along the corridor, MAGI smiled at them, a creepy smile without any of the associated background expressions that were meant to come with a smile. They all gave a brief shudder, the Emperor's being slightly more personal than the others. The sex dolls he bought as part of his 50 years as a fanfiction writer/artist coming to the forefront of his memory. There were things that one tried to forget, this was one of them.
"Please." It said, gesturing at the walls, pausing whatever it was saying as it did so. "Watch."
And they did.
It was an art installation apparently, it began with the birth of a child to somewhat ordinary parents. They were in a hut made of straw-mud, a fire burning away, filling the inside with smoke. The child was born and it cried lustily, the sound filling their heads much the same way that MAGI's words had.
It was here that the Emperor felt things were strange, specifically around the point where the couple began to speak. They spoke in a language he was intimately familiar with, it being the first one he had ever spoken. He was stoic however, there was no need to alarm either his son or the Custodes. If the nascent little bud of thought in his mind was correct, he did not want to antagonize something that had apparently been observing him since birth.
It was made more apparent as the child, now a boy in the next slide played a prank on a girl. He remembered that girl, he had lost his virginity not a week later and well… you only lose your virginity once. He had bedded many more women since then, uncountable numbers of them, most of whom were more beautiful than the girl, by the Warp, most of them weren't even human and the Eldar… the things they could do... But he would always remember her, even as the names and faces of the others faded from his mind, he would remember her.
The floor slid underneath them, he had apparently been so engrossed that he had not noticed that they were no longer walking. The floor simply sliding and dragging them along with it.
What came next he could only guess, an educated guess, however. It was going to be embarrassing, he was sure of it.
In the Bar that was hidden underneath Coruscant on the 8th level, only reachable through the 987th highway of the 78th sector to the 172th landing on the 79th sector side, a team of archeologists entered. Their way had been led by the guides, small diminutive beings that resembled children. Yet they went unmolested, the denizens of the underworld knew that to even entertain the mere thought of attacking the guides was akin to slitting their own throats.
Death was swift, brutal and without mercy, their bodies, hung out as part of a macabre display, arms spread as if in worship, rents in their bodies where blood flowed unceasingly to pool in the runes etched on the floor. They would all be arranged beatifically, each guide spending hours on each body, arms angled forward but down, palms up in deference, their legs merged together to form a fleshy pillar that throbbed with unholy energies, heads splayed back in sublimation.
In life they threatened the servants, in death, they worshipped the dark gods. As was their right.
The denizens of the underworld learnt very quickly to not antagonize the rag bound figures. Their passage one marked by speed and dexterity, blurs of the vision the only sign that one was present. They learnt to cower and be as minor as possible for in their unimportance was their salvation. The guides seeking sacrifices to their god sought hardy stock, they who proved themselves worthy by means of defiance. The weak and the meek were not worthy.
Deference was only shown to those who came from the upperworld, the archeologists and the biologists, their journey down below marked by silence. Through windy paths and labyrinthine passageways, they would descend and they would reach the final bastion of hope.
The Bar catered to a third group of peoples, they who backed the expeditions to delve into the depths of Coruscant. In supporting the delvers financially, they were given a unique mark and an invitation to enter the Bar and enjoy the beverages within. For the uninformed, it was just another invitation to be thrown away but for those who had been educated, the small rooms where the waft of alcohol had imbued itself into the very atmosphere, small voices spoke of the "the bar" where inside, one could find alcohol from ages past. It was here that drinking RyneChol from the last great Sith Empire was possible, legendary liquors that had been distilled using techniques long lost by the distillers of the modern age.
A connoisseur's wet dream. They who could afford to fund the expeditions, usually possessed the taste buds to appreciate the quality. It was they who made up the majority of the population of the bar, sitting at the bar top and enjoying the alcohol that very simply no longer existed in the majority of the galaxy. It was a rule to never ask where the alcohol came from, being banned from the bar for life, the smallest of punishments.
It was here that they sat, drinking, a place to see the galaxy pass them by. Somewhere for them to relax and not need to deal with the rigors of a business empire in the most cut throat city in the galaxy, where family could be convinced to cut your throats for the right price.
As they sat and drank the news continued to drone on in the background, its muted tones forming as white noise. In some cases however they sat up and listened, some things almost demanded attention.
"Good Morning Coruscant, this is Amalia Richies of Coruscant Daily, bringing to you only the freshest news!
"Today we bring you news from the Outer Rim! That place all the way on the outside of the galaxy where the criminals and the scum of the galaxy gather together and do their nefarious deeds. Well, that's changed! Just last night the Outer Rim sent out a declaration of independence, they are now free! How long this will last for, who knows! We'll watch and see but if history shows, like all the other warlords that declare their independence, nothing is going to change!" She chirpily said, head tentacles waving about as she nodded her head vigorously.
"Oh, is that how they're going to play it?" Said one of the drinkers, his face was concealed beneath a hood and his coat covered the rest. Still, if he was here then he clearly had the qualifications to know what he was talking about, his lack of a backpack or tools only cementing that opinion.
That was only for those who were new, the voice that was speaking was familiar enough that almost all of them knew who he was. This voice belonged to one of the most influential men of the galaxy, not a senator or anything so open, but a businessman. Owner of the largest chain of convenience stores in the galaxy, nearly 10 billion stores spread out across the Core Worlds, serving countless more. If he said he would stock an item, it would make it an instant success, denial could shatter a lesser company.
When it came to understanding the mentality of others, he was unparalleled, inventing the famed "Customer Service" handbook. Of course, it was made by transcribing the manner by which the Bartenders served their customers, but made less strict so normal people could follow along.
"From what I hear, these new "Caretakers" have taken out every warlord and independent government in the Outer Rim, set up their own government and are bringing in supplies from who knows where to feed the people. Acting more like a military than a cartel."
The others slouched and contemplated what impact that would have on them. They were all businessmen here and they had enough money and assets that something happening on the Outer Rim would have an impact on their lives, big or small. If the Outer Rim was uniting, forming a military and feeding its population, things would become very complicated very fast.
The war with the Separatists was itself a grand conspiracy, they knew that. They didn't understand why the Jedi and the Senate didn't but money talked and when war broke out with the most wealthy banking clans, manufacturers, and individual systems arrayed against the Republic. Well, they who had investments in both factions had some very pointed questions as to exactly why it had happened. The fact that there was some creepy old guy who was wearing a dark hooded robe telling them to do it, had come out after some very pointed questions.
They who had lost money on their investments because someone wanted to play at being a hidden puppetmaster… well, it was very obvious what the goal of the individual was. They wanted to become the leader of the Republic or something equally asinine and given that there was a single individual coaching Senator Amidala to call a vote of no confidence and received the rank of Supreme Chancellor… well, it was very obvious to them who was responsible for it.
But they were businessmen, they were not going to directly punish the Chancellor, it was not as if they couldn't rebound from the losses, their businesses were not as fragile as that. No, it would be something more asinine, something more irritating and something to demonstrate exactly why it was a bad idea to want to become the supreme ruler of anything. Paperwork, they would drown him in paperwork.
That and hire mercenaries, entrench their networks, and most of all, ensure that they were integral to the Republic. A man that was prepared to launch a war that would consume the galaxy was not a man ready to stop at merely being the "Supreme Chancellor". That and a man who had the luck to have a mentally deficient alien senator who couldn't even legibly talk, propose to have him be the Supreme Chancellor was someone who needed to be watched. That much luck, consistently expressing itself positively, was something that had to be factored in.
No, it would be best to prepare for the inevitable takeover, the inevitable purges and the inevitable upheaval. They would be safe of course, he was not a stupid man and only stupid men would dare to attack entrenched businesses, public opinion was a double edged weapon. Their customers, on the other hand, would be affected and they would need to adapt to dealing with them.
A third faction to have waded in… well, that changed things again. Two factions fighting were at least predictable, the conspiracy being very obvious again when the Separatists refused to use their full capabilities against the Republic. The Republic's deliberate hamstringing of themselves in terms of numbers was also another indication. The Supreme Chancellor wanted a war that was low intensity, prolonged and with very low voter cost. The Chancellor wanted to drag it out for a reason, what that was they were not sure, the war had not gone on long enough for them to tell.
They did have to prepare however, things were going to get unpredictable in the future. The Outer Rim united? It only ever meant invasion of the Core Worlds, history repeated itself on a rather consistent basis.
They drank further, each consumed by their thoughts.
The little skirmishes that had preoccupied the Republic and the Confederacy of Independent Systems were going to explode into all-out war soon enough. Adding in another variable was simply throwing fuel on the fire, they were not happy with that. Not happy at all.
Millions were going to die, millions of their paying customers. There was no predicting what would happen when the Outer Rim invaded, their forces were simply overwhelming, their rage legendary. The only way one could hold the line was to crush them before they could build up momentum or to withdraw and watch as they fell to the inevitable infighting that came with an Outer Rim invasion, their forces divided and never willing to compromise. It was just as inevitable as their invasion of the Core worlds when they had a leader to unite under.
"Not too sure it will turn out the same way." Said another, this woman very thin, her hood bulging, indicating her non-human origins.
"Oh?" Said the first man.
"Been hearing stories of giants, warriors who stand at two and a half meters tall who move faster than a Jedi, hit harder than a Jedi, are armoured in plates that would make a starship jealous and there are enough of them to out populate the Clone armies." She said, voice in a careful monotone. Like the ones that drunks used to indicate that they were very clearly not drunk.
Still, it was news they could not disregard, armies of beings more capable than Jedi? The holos had been leaked earlier to most of them. The display of martial prowess that had been demonstrated was a chilling one, their abilities focused to war and brutality, unlike the Jedi who looked to more peaceful pursuits. With that much armour and that much willingness to shed blood? Many were going to be reconsidering their investments when they returned, perhaps more money flowing into the Outer Rim would be a good idea.
If they could produce soldiers of near or equal skill? Well, they were going to be rated much more highly, their staying power in the event of an invasion assured.
It was yet another benefit to this little club they had, a place where they could exchange information in private and safety. The guides took a very poor view on those that broke the unwritten truce that governed the bar. A place where they could meet as equals, simply enjoy each other's company and pass the time without the sycophants that usually plagued their existences, the bar attracting a very specific kind of clientele. One that appreciated the subdued atmosphere and didn't need fawning over every second of the day. A clientele willing to sacrifice a few bands of archeologists every few weeks to earn the right to sit at the Bartop. People who would be willing to serve the dark gods once they rose again.
After Activation 1120 - Origin Universe
After Insertion 1081 - Cultivation Universe
Millennium 094-32M - 40k Universe
Clone Wars 23 BBY - Star Wars Universe
At the 0271th Institute for War, the Caretakers, made from the X-Humans, Space Marines, and the Human Cultivators, oversaw the training of the thousands of recruits. The farmers, labourers, and volunteers that no longer had work due to the automation introduced by the Caretakers, found themselves with new purpose in the Self Defence Forces.
They trained with the weapons "procured" by the Caretakers, blasters of a design that resembled the ones from the Republic but at the cost of the Separatist variants. Their armour was very much like the Clone Armour but focusing on more protection versus agility. There was more of a focus on protection and versatility as opposed to the speed of the Clones and the massed numbers of the Droids.
They didn't have the numbers due to the organic nature of their armies but they also had something that the other factions did not. The number of their elite units, the Caretakers all, bringing different powers and abilities to the field, rounding out their lack of numbers with different powers. The speed and devastation of the Space Marines, the logistical utility of the X-Humans and the versatility of the Cultivators. All of it adding up to counter their numerical disadvantage.
If anything, the recruits were there to fluff out their armies, to make them seem more imposing on the battlefield or on the field of negotiations. Having a tiny army might make those pesky Jedi think they actually have a chance against them. Something that would no doubt lead to various little assassination attempts or whatever, the Jedi were not known for their critical thinking, especially if the Midichlorians deemed the "forceless" aliens a threat.
Therefore it was surprising to the Caretakers that the recruits that they had picked up were training with so much intensity. Their focus on improving themselves so they could defend what they thought was their future. The Caretakers had not factored in exactly how much the Outer Rim residents wanted to prove themselves worthy and gain power. While it was normal for an oppressed peoples to want to gain power, their reasonings were different. To protect what they had been given, no matter the cost.
It was not restricted by race, the desire being universal regardless of what they looked like. There were blue ones, beige ones with dark geometric patterns on their faces, ones with bony protrusions from their skulls, others still that looked as if they came from some fever dream, long grey necks and spindly limbs, others still were blobs with little gelatinous bumps that could extend into tentacles. So many different species, all of them wishing to contribute.
Some no doubt were spies but the majority the X-Humans had confirmed were genuine in their intentions, desiring to improve their station and to give back what they could. It had been 2 years and the Caretakers had proven themselves to be consistent and generous, many of them reasoning that doing well in the Self Defence Forces would make their situation even better.
It was due to that reasoning, that the Caretakers found themselves rather stumped at the moment. They were being besieged by requests for more intensive training, specialist training, and requests to be made as powerful as the Space Marines. They wanted to be strong, and frankly, the Caretakers were having enough trouble getting them up to standard as it was. The general idea for the Self Defence Force was to get them trained up to a minimum standard before shipping them out as reserves to act like free labour.
They would be fed, housed and used to build the infrastructure necessary to continue to modernization and development of the various worlds in the Outer Rim. More like centralized labour that gathered the unemployed instead of an actual military. Strangely a majority of the recruits had decided that they wanted to be part of the actual military instead of the reserves. They knew they would be undertaking tasks that could see them dead on the frontline far away from their homes.
Incomprehensible.
Yet here they were. The Caretakers were designing individual fitness schedules for each of the races. Each designed to bring them to a set standard of fitness deemed necessary to allow them to follow alongside the Caretaker armies. At the same time they would be drilled in the basics of Small Infantry Tactics, weapons handling and the basics of vehicular maintenance.
When it came down to it, each of the SDF proper would be fully capable of operating in the field for prolonged periods while self-sufficiency would ensure they would never fail in the field due to their own failings. With their smaller numbers, each would be armed to the teeth with the most powerful weaponry available, packing as much firepower onto their regular humanoid frames as they possibly could.
Physical ability was the first priority, being unable to keep up with the Power Armoured humans and their more… supernatural affiliates. The Twi'leks were the focus of 0271, their regime being one focused on human methods. Their bodies being extremely similar to that of regular humans as it was. The fact that there were so many of them in the Outer Rim was something that was concerning given that most of the females were being used as sex slaves.
Many of whom had joined the SDF full time, graduating from the Reserves in the hopes of getting a chance to shoot at the Republic at some point. To get even with the Republic that allowed them to be enslaved in the first place, to allow slavery to become something that was systemic and accepted. While they lived with their principles of liberty and freedom, buying slaves from under the table, abusing them and then killing them when they were "used".
In short, the Twi'leks and many others were hoping for the ability to engage and get vengeance on the Republic and its oh so, hoity-toity, idealistic meatbags masquerading as people. Even if the SDF would not engage directly with the Republic, the fact was that they were allowed to keep their equipment after their deployment, and would be trained in using it to its maximum potential. Something that was very attractive seeing as they could join the millions of others and prosecute a war against the Republic on their own, using the guerrilla tactics they learnt to deal the most damage possible against the regular troops, civilian areas and spaceports.
They would pay for the suffering that the Outer Rim peoples had endured due to the downright malicious negligence of the Republic.
Or so they thought. Their plans depended on them passing through the Institutes in the first place. Right now the punishing physical regime that passed for "training" was draining the willpower of many, their bodies barely able to keep up with the demands placed on them.
The acceptance into the SDF proper forcing them to pass through an 18-week "trial". This trial was in essence legal torture at the behest of the recruits. It began with them being stripped of all possessions and belongings before being shoved into barracks. One of each would be elected as a leader, a ceremonial position this early on.
From there began the most brutal regime most of them (who weren't assassins or worse) had been through. Waking up with approximately 4 hours of sleep a night, forced to undergo a 6-kilometer run to start off with. After that, they ran through a gamut of bodyweight based exercises, pushups and the like to "warm" themselves up before breakfast. After that was the assorted exercises to train the areas deemed necessary. The ability to get out of restraints underwater, being able to get out of various holds, jumping out of ships with nothing but cloth on their backs, and doing very long marches in full kit for no real reason.
Then came lunch. And then more exhausting training like carrying large logs in groups on their shoulders while doing communal situps and squats. Delicious squats.
Then dinner.
Then random wakeups to ensure that they were perpetually exhausted and driven to the edges of their own mental and physical strength. It would continue for 18 weeks until the last week where they would be sent out on a week long journey which tasked them with impossible goals, 100 kilometers a day to be hiked while lugging full equipment, up mountains for the amusement of their instructors.
The Instructors themselves would be judging and marking the various recruits in regards to their ability throughout the entire process. Should they pass, the recruits would become fully fledged members of the SDF, and sent to proper training for the next 6 months. They would learn here how to use their weapons to maximum effect unlike in the reserves where simply pointing it at the enemy was enough. They were not fully accepted at that point however, the immediately weak had been weeded out and now the rest of them would be judged and assessed. A majority of them would not make it, those that did were going to be the most dangerous beings outside of the Jedi and the Caretakers in the galaxy.
Survival tactics in desert, water, forest, jungle and all manner of death worlds. Learning proper small scale infantry tactics, how to operate for long periods of time without support, etc. Everything the reserves learnt, the SDF did too, but in much more detail and in much more depth. Where the reserves would fight on the Outer Rim, the SDF would be sent out in their own ships to do whatever needed to be done.
No true war per-se but more sanctioned special operations.
When it came down to it, the SDF and the Caretakers would begin crippling the logistical lines of both factions, remaining as hidden as possible. When the time was ripe, a crippling assault would be launched into both factions to assume direct control over their running and to make sure everything went as they planned. Or as close to being planned as possible, they hadn't worked out the specifics besides the whole "remodel the galaxy so it isn't terrible" idea. Phase 3 was contingent on them being able to perform a critical strike on the leadership of both factions, leaving them ripe for reforms, Caretaker or otherwise.
The Midichlorians had been an issue to be considered. Having them being able to influence the very forces that the Caretakers entrusted their flanks to was a very bad idea. To that end, all of them upon joining the SDF proper had their Midichlorians stripped out and replaced with placebos that would fool the Force. To the Jedi they would look just like before, emitting a force presence that allowed them to do their mind tricks and whatever mystic powers they had. At the same time, it prevented the Midichlorians from directly influencing their minds and forcing them to do things detrimental to the overall plans for the galaxy.
The process was painless, relatively. They were stripped out when the Twi'leks were far too tired to resist, their bodies already giving up the fight to stay conscious. It would take serious amounts of stimulus to wake them up and the relatively small amount that came with the Midichlorian purge was enough to have them fidget but nothing else. A better more comprehensive method was being developed but it wasn't quite finished as of yet.
The SDF was getting along well and the 2 batches that had managed to graduate were acclimating well. The Caretakers incorporating them into their units and teaching them how to operate alongside their specialized abilities. They were also assisting in adjusting their minds to be more accepting of war, it would not do to have them freeze up once they saw a Space Marine cutting through an enemy force, spraying out blood in wide rainbow-like arcs.
On the other side, the SDF were learning very important skills in order that if the Caretakers suddenly did leave, they would still be able to retake the Outer Rim. From there they could reinstall a system of control that vaguely resembled that of the Caretakers, their military might being more than a match for any resurgent forces still present in the Outer Rim. Indeed many of them were hoarding their ammunition and essentials, ready to take the fight to the Republic when they were discharged. Ready and willing to educate the citizens on what true suffering was like, and how to get in tune with reality. Their cries for salvation and mercy would be ignored just as the Outer Rim was ignored for time immemorial.
They had their own goals but the Caretakers didn't mind, a bit of savagery always greased the cogs, even if it was with blood.
After Activation 1120 - Origin Universe
After Insertion 1081 - Cultivation Universe
Millennium 094-32M - 40k Universe
Clone Wars 23 BBY - Star Wars Universe
"Down! Down! Down!" Shouted the drill sergeant. His voice booming over the field.
Recruit 099281 dived down underneath the barbed, electrified wire and began crawling.
"Crawl Maggots! Keep Yur Head Down Maggots!" He said. Very loudly.
Recruit 099281 made sure to keep the lekku stubs down, they had been capped as part of the initiation ceremony. Too long, too vulnerable to getting caught on edges when turning fast or trying to maneuver. Poor evolutionary design they said. Joining the SDF proper required them to be amputated below the neck. Recruit 099281 accepted, vengeance could only come from sacrifice.
Born into slavery, sold as part of trade for more starship parts by the homeworld. Vengeance would be had, the SDF was very willing to assist.
Blaster Machinegun was firing over their heads, swiveling left to right, cracks of vaporized water moisture in the air over their heads keeping them down. No stun shots, all lethal. Too dangerous to keep head up, lie down and keep down. No need to be stupid and lose the head, no chance for revenge if dead.
PewPewPewPewPewPew
They crawled, Recruit 099281 just one more Twi'lek moving through the obstacle course. Head down, arms pushing through, knees kept close to the body. As low a profile as possible, as efficient a movement profile as possible. Standard training, no specialization as of yet.
Forward, forward.
Through the mud, through the dirt, ignore the mud flowing into the clothes, on the skin. Recruit 099281 kept at it, 100 meters of crawling, sometimes under the water, sometimes through pipes, sometimes through pipes under the water, sometimes through barbed wire, sometimes through sand and dust, sometimes through organs and blood. It changed every day and the recruits were given 10 minutes to get through 100 meters.
Failure meant having to do it again, this time at night with no ability to see what it was the recruits were crawling through.
A means to condition the recruits and toughen them up mentally so they don't automatically pop their heads up when hearing gunfire above. At the same time allowing them to get used to the idea of crawling through the worst things possible so they will not hesitate. Recruit 099281 understood this and could only grit teeth and crawl.
Target practice with the Blasters. Start off simple, need to hit 20 targets, 30-centimeter diameter, range 30 meters. 18 times out of 20, 5 sets. Set up in the booth and fire at will, timer is 20 seconds start to finish. All weapons have to be pointed at the ground before starting.
"Start!" Says the Drill instructor, loudly.
Blasters come up, safeties off, fingers onto the trigger. Aim down the sight and fire, pew pew pew. Semi-automatic mode, make sure the reticle has settled on the target before firing. Misfire would be embarrassing and mark off points. Failure to pass can result in failure of the entire course. Recruit 099281 was not ready to be failed and continued the drill.
Hit Hit Miss Hit Hit
Miss from engaging too fast, have to reset and turn back. Valuable seconds wasted.
Frak.
Recruit 099281 wasn't too sure what frak meant but it felt appropriate to use. Recruit 099281 heard a few of the instructors use it a few times and well… it sounded good to use.
Final score 16 out of 20. Failure.
Still 4 more sets to go.
Blaster down to the ground, safety on, finger laid to the side. Eyes forward, targets lying on the ground.
Recruit 099281 waited for the signal, ready to quickly map out a target path and follow it down. This was the warmup, stationary targets don't present any challenge. Reserves training taught Recruit 099281 how to hold a blaster correctly and how to use it, SDF training was teaching Recruit 099281 how to use a blaster.
"Ready!"
First month had already passed, onto the second. Body changed, mentality changing, everything changing. Recruit 099281 wasn't sure if it was deliberate on the part of the instructors or if it was going to happen naturally. Born a slave, now given a chance to become worth something, earn skills and then avenge. All Twi'Leks sold to "spread their culture" were ready to avenge. They of the homeworld would pay, as would the Republic for knowingly trading in slaves, death would be the most merciful of punishments they would exact on them.
"Start!"
Blaster up, safety off, finger on trigger. Sweep pattern left to right. Blaster to the cheek, molding well, firing at will.
Pew Pew Pew
Bolts sent off, targets being knocked down, can't wait for confirmation, continuing sweep. If fast enough, time to come back later.
Pew Pew Pew
Next set, set up high, need to elevate. Spread feet back to brace, aiming up at targets on the wall.
Pew Pew Pew
Next set to the ground, only half visible. Need to aim hit properly, only half moons, can't afford to miss, aim for center mass.
Pew Pew Pew
Next set standing upright, normal positions. One closer than the others, make it look bigger, half covering. Switching up of sweep, aim center, then left, then right.
Pew Pew Pew
Next set, one low, two high. Aim already at lower middle, will aim for low first, sweep up then to left for the last two.
Pew Pew Pew
Next Set, two left, middle then low. Straightforward, left then right.
Pew Pew
All sets complete, sweep eyes to check for missing. Second set up high missed one. Frak. Sweep blaster to engage, timer running down, 2 seconds left. Composure rattled, taking too long. 1 second left.
Pew
Timer sounds, loud beeping noise, targets flip. Shot too slow. Frak. Recruit 099281 was disappointed, too slow, too many misses, too much failure. Could not afford to keep this up, needed to be better, better enough to be able to join the SDF. Cannot afford to be weak, cannot afford to join Reserves. Need to be strong.
Recruit 099281 panted slightly before giving a quick slap to the cheek. Needed to be focused, 3 more sets.
After that need to prepare for moving target practice, different speed variations, different distances, different sizes. Difficult. 10 targets, 20 seconds. 5 sets.
Recruit 099281 breathed in.
"Ready!"
Recruit 099281 couldn't afford to fail. Not here.
Learning, hand signs, how to disassemble weapons, how to make rudimentary traps, how to survive in the wilderness, how to interrogate and exact maximum pain, how to, how to, how to.
Recruit 099281 sat on the floor, cross-legged, eyes up at the instructor as he demonstrated how to make an IED from a Thermal Detonator.
"It's very simple, you need to first remove the fingerprint scanning technology and allow for trigger detonations. Like so."
Fingers moving swiftly, the instructor removes the little cap and shows them the naked Detonator.
"Now you try."
Recruit 099281 lifts up the dummy Detonator in Recruit 099281's hand and tried to attempt the same. A twist of the fingertips and a slight pinch, it was off. Recruit 099281 smiled at the accomplishment, Recruit 099281 was not very good when it came to delicate tasks with machinery. It was an accomplishment and it was first in the class, marks in Recruit 099281's favour.
The instructor moved about, picking up Detonators to show the others how to do it properly. Recruit 099281 was smug that Recruit 099281 did not need the instructor's attention.
"Now, can anyone tell me why we would use Thermal Detonator trip mines?" Asked the instructor, once again at the front of the group.
"To take out people trying to follow during an escape?"
The instructor nodded briefly at the recruit that said that but there was a small amount of dissatisfaction on the instructor's face. "Where would this be a negative outcome?"
Recruit 099281 jumped to answer, "Thermal Detonators will critically injure or kill those that are caught in the blast radius. On organic targets, wounding is preferential to force them to try and perform a medical evacuation with the wounded. If they are already killed then they will not need to try."
"Good." The instructor nodded at Recruit 099281 and Recruit 099281 was happy. Recruit 099281 was recognized by the instructor.
"Remember, for organic targets, wounding is preferential since it forces their allies to try and evacuate them, pulling out two to three soldiers every time. However, keep in mind that for droids this doesn't work, always go for the kill when it comes to droids." His gaze swept over them, making sure they at least gave nods of agreement before continuing on.
"For organic targets, I recommend using your fragmentation grenades, chemical charges, concussion wave for the deep tissue damage and shards for the soft organic tissue. Explosions set at the ankle level are very good at crippling the targets, not allowing them to become walking wounded and forcing an assisted evacuation. For droids use either ion grenades or Thermal Detonators, set them at waist height for maximum damage and to catch hovering droids. They always fly at the center so set your tripwires or detectors with that in mind."
Lessons, every day a new one. Expectations set for all recruits to remember the lessons and use the knowledge given in later lessons or training. Expectations are high for recruits, only the best can become full-time members.
Kill House. Words fill recruits with dread. Not more difficult than other training but infinitely more criticisms and punishments for failing. Recruit 099281 was ready, always ready. Recruit 099281 would pass through this and Recruit 099281 would not fail. Not today.
Still, this was as much a team exercise as it was a combat one, Recruit 099281 took some time to build transitory bonds with the others. Basic levels of trust were required when performing a search and clear exercise, Recruit 099281 was not prepared to fail because Recruit 099281 was not prepared to be "nice" with the others.
"You ready?" Recruit 099281 asks, voice brusque.
"All good." Says Recruit 099289.
Recruit 099283 and Recruit 099286 nod.
Last minute checks in the ready room. Timer above the entrance gives them 3 minutes. Today the clearance requires using physical munitions, ion weapons. Submachine Guns with Ion munitions, ion grenades, blaster sidearm "in case". Ammunition pouches on the front, 150 rounds, 50 already inside the magazine. Grenades hanging from vest, spherical designs, blue stripes to indicate what type.
Breathe in.
Hold.
Breathe out.
Let loose the tension.
Recruit 099281 was the first in, no mistakes permitted.
1 minute left.
Four form up.
Ready.
Buzzer beeps, Second kicks open the door with a spinning back kick for strength, Third drags Second out of the way. First goes in first, sweeps directly to the right, ignores targets in the center, leave to Fourth. Trust allies to do their job, target on the right, crouched.
Ptt, ptt
Target drops down, circuits overloaded.
Ptt, ptt
Fourth engages, targets on the center right, Second and Third on the way in, weapons up.
Ptt Ptt Ptt Ptt
Two double taps, left side and center left clear.
No hostages or secondary targets inside room.
Moving on.
Second door. Same process, Second kick in, First leads.
Move in swiftly, move in efficiently, move in decisively, to hesitate is to invite death.
Recruit 099281 sits down on the bench. Helmet from the exercise held loosely in front. Turning it in the hand, turning, turning.
Kill House clear had been a failure. All rooms had been cleared successfully up to the 7th room. Turret had dropped from the roof, unexpected, taken out Third and Fourth, critically wounding Second. First had engaged, taken out. Casualties too high, made decision.
Operation had priority, left behind Second, breached solo into 8th room. Tripwire set off, taken out.
Recruit 099281 had failed, knowledge sitting heavily on Recruit 099281's shoulders.
Failure meant the possibility of being dropped from the SDF program.
Failure was the possibility of never being able to achieve revenge.
Failure was the end point of Recruit 099281's dreams.
"Don't worry too much recruits, it was an exercise and it was to teach. You were meant to fail that one recruits, how does it feel?" Said the instructor.
"Terrible." Said Recruit 099281. One simply did not lie to the instructors, they always knew.
"Good, then you learned something. Learn from this so you don't fail again. Work out why you failed, I want a comprehensive report of this to be handed in tomorrow. Get some sleep." With that the instructor left, the locker once again quiet as each of the four came to grips with their thoughts.
Recruit 099281 breathed in.
Recruit 099281 breathed out.
Recruit 099281 would not fail again.
After Activation 1119 - Origin Universe
After Insertion 1080 - Cultivation Universe
Millennium 093-32M - 40k Universe
Clone Wars 22 BBY - Star Wars Universe
Recruit 099281 knelt in the mud.
It was the final exercise, a combat operation against a second group of recruits. They would be evaluated for their performance over the week-long exercise. There were approximately 2000 recruits on each side, objectives the same for both sides.
Find a holocron marked as the objective somewhere inside the opposing side's base. Secure and take it back without losing your own. They had a time limit of a month to accomplish the objective, weapons were non-lethal only. Instructors were on hand to make sure that a kill would not be needed in melee combat, a tap out to indicate they had been taken out.
They had been deployed and were given 24 hours to prepare their camp and their half of the combat zone. It being a dense jungle separated by a river that denoted the halfway mark. The entire thing was 64 kilometers square, 8 kilometers per side. While it was a jungle it was also a very undulating one, hills and a proto-mountain on one side with a depression and an almost swamp-like area on the other. Both had their pros and cons for attacking and defending, the test likely being on to test their ability for asymmetrical warfare.
Recruit 099281 wasn't a very good thinker, much better with the hands than the brain. Still, Recruit 099281 was able to pick out some basic ideas of their situation. Booby trap the jungle, make sure the others knew what was going on, would be a bad idea to have their own side taken out by their own traps. Embarrassing and also would be a mark against them.
The 6 month SDF selection and training process had been arduous and also tempered the recruits. Recruit 099281 was no longer as brash, no longer as focused on the goal of winning. Rather Recruit 099281 understood that sometimes failure was necessary to win in the long run, always winning meant never being able to fully learn.
It didn't mean that Recruit 099281 enjoyed losing, enjoyed failure, rather Recruit 099281 understood the necessity of it. It was an unpleasant lesson but at least it had been learnt, many of those that failed to understand or rejected the lessons had been dropped from the course. Their status as recruits dropped to that of Reserves.
Recruit 099281 was kneeling in the mud at the riverbank. Their 24 hours was not yet up but the wording had been innocuous enough, that it had not forbidden them from attacking before the grace period ended. In other words, it was a trick to see if the recruits could pick up on the wording and take advantage of it. A test of both intellect and of reactions, to see if the side being attacked was able to react properly, or if they were going to cry foul about the rules being broken. The instructors were cruel but that was not Recruit 099281's problem.
Recruit 099281 rather had been sent out as part of a team by the command team (selected prior to the exercise) to scout the opposition and engage targets of opportunity. There were 5 of them being sent for this, Recruit 099281 taking the position of the rearguard. How many other teams were being sent out, Recruit 099281 was not sure. Best to keep it that way in case they were captured, nothing to give away if there was nothing there, to begin with.
Recruit 099281 eyed the riverbank, the crossing would be the most dangerous part of their plan. It was in full view of the other side, their only cover being a distraction orchestrated in the center. The team had watched the other riverbank and had seen nothing, their bodies lying prone as each scanned with their eyes and their sensors for any signs of life. They had come up with nothing and quickly made their way across the river.
To act decisively was the best option, to simply wait, indecisive, was to invite their own destruction. The team had made its way across, Recruit 099281 following up from the rear. A check of the riverbank for any flanking attacks before following the others in.
The easy part was over, or rather the "quick" part was over. Now was the most difficult of positions to be in. Rearguard was the being at the rear of a patrol, or rather being in the most vulnerable position and the most likely site of an attack. The rearguard therefore, would likely see the most combat, be the most vigilant and be the most likely casualty when it came down to it.
Recruit 099281 had been chosen due to the scores achieved in the shooting practice sessions, perfect scores every time. Kill House scores were similar, once Recruit 099281 had absorbed all the lessons of course. A "killing machine" if practise droids counted. Recruit 099281 didn't count them but clearly, others did. None of them had any actual "kills" as of yet, artificial ones being the only metric they could measure others by.
Nonetheless, Recruit 099281 followed up behind, eyes open, ears open, pores open. Anything that could detect another being, not of the team was open. The Lekku was operating, the amputation procedures being a means of getting rid of the excess fat and cartilage, the extrasensory abilities retained. Everything and anything was open to detect everything and anything. The sensory overload was debilitating at first, but like all Twi'leks that were part of the training program, they learnt how to deal with it. Their training consisting of them being bombarded from all angles by the sensations of increased sound from speakers, vibrations, light and radiowaves.
It had knocked out most of them in the first place, but over time they adapted and learnt. Now each of them were at the pinnacle of their race, each able to detect anything in a radius of 50 meters. Unless they were being jammed by other Twi'leks, it being a deadly game of who would slip up first and present a target. Needless to say, being in the rearguard, Recruit 099281 would be the first target if the team's' jammer did indeed fail. Not exactly the most pleasant thought.
Recruit 099281 gave an absent minded, habitual check of Recruit 099281's equipment. Ammunition was in the pouches, almost 900 rounds of it, stun grenades, and flares all attached, or inside the vest being worn. Underneath the vest, close to the skin, in the inner pouch was a map, compass and other navigational aids in the event they became lost. A very real reality inside the jungle, especially at night with their extrasensory abilities. The sensory disorientation capable of sending them in the wrong direction.
Underneath the vest was a stomach bag containing snack rations, medical supplies, extra bandannas and the like. Anything that might need to be readily accessible, pulling off the backpack and rummaging through it an invitation for attack, not to mention slow and would hold up the team.
The backpack itself contained their ponchos and hammocks to keep them off the ground when they slept as well as keeping them dry. Getting sick would be an extreme disability, especially in regards to their ability to move quietly. Also contained were full rations, extra ammunition, supplies, explosives and a full medical kit. In the event of something serious occurring, they were expected to deal with the situation themselves, only when it became a matter of extreme concern, or they had been knocked out of the exercise, would the instructors intervene.
On Recruit 099281's legs, there were further pouches, more medical supplies, more ammunition and sidearm.
In short, each of them was carrying enough ammunition and supplies to start a small war. If they were carrying lethal munitions and were anywhere in the Republic, one might think they were the forefront of a massive invasion.
Progress through the jungle was slow, emphasis was placed on making sure they were both quiet, stealthy and left no marks behind when they had passed through. Simply rushing through the jungle was to invite unwanted attention. Each step had to be placed with the utmost care, their weight being distributed slowly from one to the other to, a snapped twig being something that could end them. While they moved one hand would screen directly in front of them, slowly pushing out branches and overhanging foliage that might block their way.
Whenever possible they simply walked around obstructions, to disturb something might leave behind a trail. With the other hand, they held their carbines, slowly sweeping the surrounding jungle. Those behind the pointman could use two hands with their weapons, covering the lead while also covering their own sectors. Recruit 099281 being the rearguard was also tasked with easing back anything that the pointman pushed out of the way, erasing their tracks and if necessary, placing fake ones to fool possible pursuers.
Like a well-oiled machine they made their way deeper into the jungle, searching it for the opposition's base, assuming they had one at all this early in. Their side had the hills and the Cliffside, the opposition being stuck in the swamp. Having a set base inside a swamp was suicidal, the movement penalty as well as the water, meant that both attackers and defenders had to be extremely careful. The slightest movement capable of producing a sound as the water lapped against the body, inviting death from unseen angles.
It being a swamp also meant footing was uncertain and tripping on unseen obstacles an almost certain event. It was simply too unpredictable and those trying to enter had to be prepared to give themselves away at a moment's notice. If they had more time then it would have served admirably as a base but given they barely had 24 hours, it was also a trap. Likely the Instructors knew the pitfalls and had the swamp presented as a viable defensive position to see if they were willing to accept it.
Either way, it was a bad idea, the defenders as much at mercy as the attackers to its whims.
To that end, the most likely location for the base would be around the swamp, a place to have a defensible rear or flank while also having an escape route. Once a small path was charted, they could use it to escape if things went badly. A precleared passage allowing them a quiet escape while their pursuers blundered about.
The team therefore, was cutting a straight line down the square before turning toward the swamp. If they were lucky they might find the base outside of the swamp to report back, if not then they would come upon it after a team had left already, being relegated to watching it for the next week as they waited for the right time to strike.
As the team slowly made their way the jungle, Recruit 099281 considered that it might just be that they missed the base entirely on their way in. The jungle did a very good job of hiding its inhabitants, even from each other. As they made their way deeper the team made sure to keep an eye out, any signs that the trees had been felled for lumber being a clear sign the base was nearby.
A base for 2000 people was not an easy affair to hide after all. Unless of course they went the hidden route and constructed a tiny hut and called that the base, decentralising everyone but the command team to confuse them.
They wouldn't know for sure until they found it, but both options were highly likely. An area for complaint for the team certainly. They were not even sure what configuration their own base was in, or even where it was, deniability at its best.
The team took a short break, kneeling where they were, weapons ready but hands busy at the waist pouches. A drink of water, best to stay hydrated when it was this humid. Another moment to take a bite of their snack ration bars to top up their energy reserves as well. It would not do to keel over from exhaustion brought about by the lack of energy or water in the middle of combat. The less they ate, the weaker they would be, each ate, hungry or not.
Once that was done, the trash was policed, their dents and markings in the jungle undergrowth were rubbed out and they continued moving forward. They had a base to find.
After Activation 1119 - Origin Universe
After Insertion 1080 - Cultivation Universe
Millennium 093-32M - 40k Universe
Clone Wars 22 BBY - Star Wars Universe
Recruit 099281 knelt in the mud. Different mud this time but mud was mud.
It was the second last day of the exercise and both sides still had a majority of their strength. The team had arrived and taken up overwatch positions over the base, the problem being that it was on the edge of the swamp at the rear. To get to it they had to either move through the swamp and risk exposing themselves, or to move along the two extremely thin arms of land stretching out and around. The first was one where a mistake was guaranteed and they would certainly be spotted given it was almost a kilometer deep. The second was one where they would be found, large numbers of the opposition having set up traps, patrols and emplacements to catch out any attempts to probe too deeply.
As it was, two teams had been taken out already, one on the first day (the official first day) and the second just a two days later. Their command team had very likely realised the wording of the first 24 hours and quickly deployed their base, focusing efforts on a more defensive stance. It might explain why there were so few reports of engagements on their side of the river, they wanted to focus on a counter-attack stance as opposed to an offensive one.
With the swamp protecting their largest flank, it certainly made sense that their stance was in that direction. What it did mean was that Recruit 099281 was in a very unenviable position. A position that dictated that the team was to try and find a way to breach the opposition base and find the holocron. Going in alone was almost suicide, to that end they would be supported by an attack along the land bridges, if things went well, they would be able to cross the swamp and into the base.
If they went slowly enough, under the cover of an allied attack, then perhaps they would be able to get in close enough. A very big if, but using one team in a gamble was better than committing the entire force for a nebulous goal.
Recruit 099281 therefore, was kneeling in the mud on the edge of the swamp, they would begin the operation in a few more minutes, the team having spent most of the last week trying to find a way through the swamp itself. Their own attempts were limited by a fear of being discovered or stumbling into a trap, their underwater nature making them extremely dangerous.
Regardless they had a mission and now they had to carry it out.
Going through a swamp was much less walking and more sliding. One foot slowly being pushed through the much, it reaching nearly to their chests. Their backpacks had been left behind in a safe place, their stomach backs replacing their position. High on their backs and out of the water.
Each step was a measure in patience, slowly feeling out with their feet anything that might possibly trip them, each step probing the ground underneath to check for underwater sinkholes. Their eyes insufficient given that the water was murky and opaque, like a shimmering sea of dark brown. Each step caused undercurrents to swirl about, depositing lighter shades of brown and green on their bodies, like small eddies of foul smelling goop. Their movements through the swamp slow and sure, rushing would only attract attention, fatal in their position. There was no cover here in the swamp, the swamp being wide enough that this far in there would be no trees to fall in. Those from ages past already having rotted away.
There was no way they could crouch to minimise their profiles, the footing was unstable enough as it was. A sighting was nothing more than certain death, the opposition seeing their silhouettes clearly once lights and the like had been shone upon them. Scary indeed, standing fully upright being fully out as well. At least it was night-time, their general outlines blurred by the shadows. So long as there wasn't any loud, sudden sounds, they would be safe. For now at least.
So here they were trying to make the least amount of noise, the least amount of disturbance. In the distance, the sounds of gunfire and explosions marked their distraction. It sounded half-hearted, to be honest, then again it wasn't a full commitment, a probing attack as well as a diversion.
In case they failed.
Recruit 099281 was still in the rearguard position, even more, dangerous now that they had nowhere to hide. Eyes were constantly scanning around them, head on a swivel as Recruit 099281 checked to make sure there was nothing that might indicate an ambush.
Not exactly the most calming of jobs but Recruit 099281 was confident in Recruit 099281's abilities.
Recruit 099281 crawled through the base, they had made their way in safely and dealt with a patrol that had come too close. They now had at the most 5 minutes before the alarm was sounded and their position became much more tenuous.
Poor luck all around, randomised patrols were the worst enemies of any infiltrators.
Recruit 099281 continued, crawling through the grid like camp, its layout logical and from what they could see, was organised into 5 sectors. One corner was an armoury, two others were general quarters and the fourth a gathering point that was also closest to the swamp. In the centre was a square that served as the command centre and likely where the holocron was located. It was also the area that saw the most foot traffic.
There was no way they were going to be able to grab the holocron, but luck willing, they would be able to exfiltrate and bring back the camp layout to their own side. If they could arrange a few acts of sabotage in order to help push the holocron away from certain areas then that was good too. In the event that it was in one of the other 4 sectors, a few paint grenades, and disabled sentries should be enough to force its relocation to the centre. The opposition worried that an infiltration that reached so far in would be able to accidentally stumble over it. Thus the team would be able to help their own side predict the general location of the holocron by forcing the hand of the opposition. Very sneaky.
For Recruit 099281, the objective was simple, plant as many time delayed and tripwire paint explosives as possible in the time frame available before escaping. They had 5 minutes before the alarm was up but thankfully had managed to recon the majority of the base before then.
The training was certainly coming in handy, the speed crawling allowing Recruit 099281 to navigate the base without giving away their position. Recruit 099281 had to be careful however, the swamp had a distinctive smell and if not careful, would give Recruit 099281 away.
A final plant and Recruit 099281 was making their way back outside of the camp. A hop over the makeshift walls and Recruit 099281 was back into the swamp. Slipping in quietly, legs slowly inserting their way into the murky depths. Chest and arms following soon after, only the eyes remaining above the surface as the helmet's respirator took care of the pesky problem of breathing. Weapons below to present as small a profile as possible and thus began a very slow and very nerve wracking glide away from the base.
Recruit 099281 would meet the rest of the team at a small alcove made from the unseen currents of the swamp and the debris it brought. Barely enough for one, but enough for them rotate through, somewhere to get some rest. A second team would be meeting them to retrieve the data they had gathered about the base, it being instrumental to the attack planned for the next day.
As they reached it, Recruit 099281 wanted nothing more to get some sleep. The amount of effort needed to move quietly through a swamp was enough to exhaust even one of them. Still, Recruit 099281 needed to make sure the equipment was clean and ready for battle, just in case.
The main attack began, using the information given, the opposition would be struck from the land bridges, a third major force would be guided through by the infiltration teams and strike from the swamp. A fourth, reserve force would be waiting and defending their own base but there were less than there could have been. The reconnaissance by the teams indicated that a majority of the opposition were in the area around the base, being pulled back a few hours before when the paint grenades began to go off. The tripwire ones had been set off the night before but when the timer ones began to detonate, the fears of a serious infiltration had them all pull back to defend.
They would take advantage of this and strike all at once, take them out then get the holocron back to their base. Recruit 099281 would be leading 100 of them in through the swamp. It was in the middle of the day so it was an extremely dangerous endeavour but it was also their only option. The land bridges were too well defended, the swamp the only way they could bring in enough troops to contest.
The risk was why Recruit 099281 was taking fire currently, the opposition having spotted them as they crossed the swamp, not 100 meters from their goal. The blaster fire was coming inaccurately but there were more of them in the water than there were opposition forces on the watchtowers. They were suppressing and trying to move at the same time, a rather difficult task given how the swamp worked. By the time they reached the base, while under fire and returning fire, their own forces would be exhausted.
A risk, but the entire plan was a risk. Charges were placed on the base of the wall when they managed to reach it, upright logs hammered into the ground. It was thin, but enough to temporarily stop any attackers and also block line of sight. Recruit 099281 ducked out of the way as they detonated, taking down the logs at the base and pushing them into the camp, following up with a push as the smoke cleared. The team had been reduced to three members, the others taken out as they waded towards to the base. Unlucky.
As it was, Recruit 099281 waded in, the physical stun munitions of the Submachine Gun firing at chest height in a sweeping motion. There was not anyone in direct line of sight but it would at least force those in the general direction to duck down. Since they were physical munitions, they did make the appropriate noises as they passed by and over the heads of those in the line of fire, they automatically ducking as taught by the instructors.
Recruit 099281 pushed on through, followed by the rest of the assault force. Their target was the centre sector where the holocron was most likely to be located. It had to be on a pedestal so the number of possible locations were limited, but not by much.
The path to the centre was one filled with opposition, the recruits trying to throw their bodies in the path of the raiding team. They were being pressed on 3 sides now, not exactly the optimal situation for their forces. No doubt the reserves of Recruit 099281's own side were pushing the way to the riverbank, in case of a desperate last play.
Recruit 099281 continued to lead, firing in a suppression arc as they pushed deeper. Only to be caught in a crossfire when they breached the central sector. The last line of defence was clearly the most concentrated one. The tents were fake, knocked down to show ready made emplacements to engage them as they came in through the flank, knocking down the walls to do so. They were prepared, it was going to be extremely bloody to dig them out. Not that Recruit 099281 was going to be doing that, knocked unconscious.
They had tied, both sides having enough survivors to hold off the half-hearted probing attacks at the end. The attack on the base in the swamp petering out in the face of 600 defenders all clustered together.
For those involved, Recruit 099281 had received a promotion, now a full-time member of the SDF. She was now a person again, Recruit 099281 was to be given to another recruit in the camps. She had thrown away her original name as was her right and took the name Machine. She had overheard one of the instructors talking about her in that language of theirs and had asked what the word they used meant. "Machine, it means machine."
Of the camp, there was barely a 30% graduation rate, those who failed given the chance to try again or return to the Reserves and forfeit their chance to ever try again. Machine didn't care, she had passed, earnt her dagger and was now being shipped for an even more intense training course of her choosing before being accepted into the SDF. She had chosen urban combat as her doctrine of choice, prepared to ship off to what promised to be as punishing as the weeding weeks.
Still, she was content for now.
It was good to be a person again.
After Activation 1121 - Origin Universe
After Insertion 1082 - Cultivation Universe
Millennium 095-32M - 40k Universe
Clone Wars 24 BBY - Star Wars Universe
Anakin Skywalker, Ahsoka Tano and Obi-Wan Kenobi dropped down onto the walkway. The reformation of the Jedi had gone very well, the predicted factionalism didn't occur and the Jedi somehow emerged from it much stronger than they had before.
Accepting that their symbolic weapons were actually tools of war, the Jedi began to learn how to wield their lightsabers in a way that was focused much less on individual performance, and more in a cooperative sense. How to fight using their lightsabers to their maximum utility, focusing less on duelling and clashing lightsaber against lightsaber, and more on using the environment and auxiliary weapons to win a fight. Training to fight an enemy that numbered in the single digits was foolish when the droids numbered in the quintillions.
As a result, training began to focus on using their lightsabers to deflect blaster fire in the most efficient way possible, a heavy focus on defensive lightsaber styles. At the same time, they were taught to be as agile and aggressive as possible, fighting droids was best done when they were up close enough that the droids were denied their numerical advantage. By closing into melee combat, the B1-Battle Droids were unable to transition and were very fragile comparatively, their thin arms and legs making it extremely easy to cut through them or even knock them with pure muscle.
Through superior agility, training and efficient use of the weapons available to them, the Jedi were retooling themselves to fight a modern war. Their instructors were also working on teaching them how to use blasters of all types, thermal detonators, ion grenades and various physical weapons. In short, the Jedi Padawans were learning how to fight, the Knights and Masters were re-learning how to fight.
They were relearning their place in a new galaxy, one that had them understand that freedom, liberty and peace relied not on their words but their actions. Simply preaching peace was something that was not feasible when the enemy was determined to close their ears. That was not to say that the Jedi were willing to wage war on the slightest provocation, they were merely being taught as a precaution for an unknown future that looked to be filled with darkness. Their abilities to see into the future being obscured by unknown powers.
All were learning how to fight, all of them would hopefully not need it. However the Jedi were still focusing on being a diplomatic order, one of peace and so many of their number, those that were uncomfortable leading armies, reverted to their old roles as diplomats. Only they now had the experiences that came with being part of an army, of killing and waging war on a grand scale. Their words were no longer filled with idealistic ideas, of concepts that were physically impossible to actually implement.
At the same time, there was a reformation of the Jedi Order itself. The Jedi who had fought in the war, namely most of them were displaying a very convincing argument that attachments, emotions and the darker side of the force could be touched without adverse effects on the Jedi themselves. While it was not an endorsement of the dark side of the Force, it was certainly an endorsement of the fact that the Jedi could exist with attachments, with those that they could care about. A flimsy argument but one that saw the Jedi changing ever so slightly as to better relate to the Republic they served and to better adapt to the changes the Order was undergoing as more of them returned from war. Their very beings tainted by the darkness that was living with death on the frontline. In practical terms, this meant that Anakin no longer needed to fear his relationship with Padme, their closeness wouldn't force his expulsion from the Order. That didn't mean it wasn't going to be a scandal if the public found out, but it was no longer as catastrophic as it could have been.
Now they, the Jedi who had been tempered in the fires of war, emerged more mature and worldly, their voices carrying weight. Their mere presence bringing a pressure down onto the negotiation table, diplomacy changing dramatically. No longer passive presences who relied on the name "Jedi", a name that had become increasingly worthless as time passed. Now, it was once again worth something and the Jedi were leveraging it for all they could.
The Outer Rim had categorically refused their attempts at diplomacy but that didn't mean that all of the different systems were resistant to their advances. Those that were not part of the Republic were increasingly becoming more receptive to their overtures, the growth and expansion of the Confederation of Independent Systems being a threat that frankly scared them. There were those that joined the CIS to be sure, but the majority were still on the fence, their members worried about the costs that could be associated with being part of the CIS and worse, being part of the losing side.
There was no indication regarding whether or not one side would emerge victorious, the "front" as it was known consisted of a rough line that encapsulated a few hundred worlds in the contact zone of the Republic's territory and that of the CIS. While the war was localised in this region, the matter of it being a war between two space-faring forces, made the concept of localisation a foolish one.
The Republic often launched raids into CIS space to strike at factories and other worlds, the CIS in turn, launching their own raids upon supply lines and civilian populations, as part of a demoralisation tactic. So far they had been unsuccessful… relatively. The Republic could do catastrophic damage to several planets worth of factories and supplies but the reality was, that they were doing much less damage to the CIS war machine due to its prodigious bulk. In turn, CIS strikes into Republic territory, while doing less damage were on the same level of relative damage, the Republic's Clone Armies requiring supplies, food and shelter to properly function. The Republic in short, was very reliant on its supply lines while the CIS was much less so.
It was due to this that a select few Clones, Jedi and other members of the Grand Republic Army were invited or assigned to the new "Blockade Forces". This new force was assembled in response to the Confederate raids but in reality, dealt more with infiltration attempts by CIS saboteurs and traitors. A small fleet was ready at all times to jump out and deal with any alarms that were sounded, the Republic's industry was far too important to allow disruptions. If they lost enough ships, they would be unable to resupply and reinforce the fleets that were even now, facing horrendous losses against the CIS fleets.
The Blockade Forces had to undergo an intensive period of retraining, the Jedi had to learn to control their excesses and to not destroy the very infrastructure they had been called upon to protect. Their lightsabers being extremely dangerous tools that could be more devastating than an entire Separatist fleet if they used the weapons wrongly. The Clones on the other hand, had to be retrained, their conservative and subservient brain chemistry altered with the assistance of the Senti Corporation. The Republic needed soldiers with initiative, not those that would blindly follow orders and get themselves killed. They had the ARC troopers, the first and second batch who put the recruits into an intensive and harsh training regimen to bring them up to standard. Individuality was encouraged and the clones after 6 months began to resemble their ARC trainers, in personality at least, the flesh was already identical.
Others were hired as well, independent officers, pilots, technicians and more, all that was needed for a private army to deal with the Separatist threat as they saw fit. Not only would they be on the defensive, but offensive actions as well, raiding deep into the CIS held worlds to strike where the CIS was most vulnerable.
They were the best the Republic had to offer, answering only to the Supreme Chancellor himself. Strangely enough there was a distinct lack of Flash Clones in their ranks, not truly a concern given the nature of their operations, but still something that niggled in the back of their minds. Some of the Flash Clones had survived long enough to develop personalities of their own, even if they were all extremely sober and fatalistic in their view of the world.
They were here currently in order to deal with a report regarding the presence of an unknown individual as well as a strike team of Commando Droids. The Separatist Frigate that deployed them did so in the usual way, with a large habitation block dropped out from orbit as if it were a meteoroid.
The facility itself was a producer of the new and improved body armour that had been made standard by the Quarians, churning out tens of millions a day to equip the masses of Clones on the Front. To lose this would not have immediate effects but one or 2 more might mean that entire divisions, would be forced to wait, their armour not arriving due to sabotage. An unacceptable loss.
The three Jedi as well as 2 ARC Clones, were deployed via a transport Frigate. One of the fastest ships in existence with a tiny needle-like profile to match, designed to infiltrate and run, everything else being superfluous.
The 5 of them came in on a LAAT, tension rising as they came in. The LAAT was being phased out for being too lightly armoured but it was also one of the fastest options they had. Safety for speed, it certainly sounded like it should have been the motto of the Blockade Forces.
As the LAAT came down, the Jedi jumped off first, using the Force to cushion their landings and raising their arms and lightsabers as they did so. Ambushes were becoming increasingly frequent and they would need to keep an eye out, Ahsoka pushing into the Force to try and locate any life signs while Anakin and Obi-Wan kept her safe.
The 2 ARC Commandos came in behind them, jetpacks bursting gently as they came in and landed. Carbines up and ready.
The 5 of them stood still for a moment, ready to receive an attack… any kind of attack. There was nothing, which in itself was extremely suspicious. Usually, the Battle Droids would at the very least try to take potshots at them as they were coming down, vulnerable as they dropped to the ground. The fact that there was nothing was certainly very worrying indeed.
Still, they had trained for this, while it was their first time deploying as part of the Blockade Forces, the Jedi were ready at the very least. They advanced into the factory complex, the Flash Clones that had survived guiding their way. The enemy apparently having an explosive of some kind that they were pushing into the centre of the factory to plant, where the power station was located.
As it was they couldn't afford to waste time and go slowly, they had to rush and in rushing, they were likely going to be ambushed. The Command team led by Jedi Master Mace Windu had thought the enemy deployed a single organic saboteur and a Commando Battle Droid team, but from the chatter of the Flash Clones, it appeared the female was a force user of some description. While she didn't carry a lightsaber, she was apparently very capable of incredible feats of agility and used techniques that allowed her to kill without physically touching the Clones.
Well, at least the training the Jedi and the Clones went through to learn how to kill Force users was going to come in useful. Having the 5 of them there was going to make it much easier that was for certain, but the unknown identity of the new threat made them uneasy. It certainly wasn't Asaji Ventress, that much was for sure.
After Activation 1121 - Origin Universe
After Insertion 1082 - Cultivation Universe
Millennium 095-32M - 40k Universe
Clone Wars 24 BBY - Star Wars Universe
The power plant was located in the centre of the factory, its bulk creating a huge target. The spherical generator was very similar to that which powered the older CIS cargo ships that were also the Core Ships of their Droid Armies. While its size made it a prime target, the power it generated also powered the entire facility which itself was over 50 kilometers wide at the thinnest point.
The large power plant sat inside a sphere that itself was even larger, at 150 meters in diameter and made of durasteel and concrete, a means to both defend against outside incursions and to protect against a core meltdown. The 2 meter thick walls protecting those within and those without.
The vast machinery that both supplied the core with fuel and dealt with the excess heat and waste products jutted from the walls and the gaping portal below. The smooth and chromatic surfaces gleamed in the artificial light, itself a stark white to provide as much illumination as possible. Each piece of machinery was enough to hide an obsolete AT-TE behind it, more than enough bulk to hide a Droid Commando Battle Droid team and their enigmatic leader.
In the event of a core meltdown or emergency, the entire power plant could be jettisoned down the portal, itself reaching deep into the planet's core. The purpose of such being that it would melt in the magma below and render the possible explosion a moot point. The grasping claw that held the power plant in place also served to push it down in the first place, an enormous piston that could throw a shuttle into the exosphere if it's orientation was modified.
It was in this jumbled and ordered chaos that the Jedi and their two Clone Commander escorts would fight to protect the facility from the predations of the Separatists. They were the only living beings left who were capable of fighting back against the unorthodox attackers. Their lives would be on the line, the power plant's destruction would end with their deaths as well.
The Flash Clones that were still alive were making their way to the control room, their path blocked by the Commando Battle Droids. In the event that the Jedi failed, the plant would be jettisoned, the Jedi with it. Do or die was the only options left to them.
It was also the site of what would be the first confrontation of Ahsoka Tano with a grave new threat to the Republic, one that prove to be a constant presence in her life going forward. A rivalry that would span the ages and lead to many a licenced holovid being made.
Ahsoka Tano landed on the grating that ran around the large sphere that was the generator. The lights had been turned off, likely an attempt to blind them for an ambush. It would have worked if not for the fact that the Jedi Warriors had embraced technology in their reformation, Ahsoka's night vision goggles making a mockery of the attempt at stealth. Her eyes scanned the surroundings, the upper and lower gantries visible through the gratings that made the catwalks. There were 20 levels from the tiny little system above the generator to the vast width of the middle level, big enough for an entire regiment of Clones (if they didn't mind the squeeze).
Where before they would use their lightsabers to illuminate the area, and also to make themselves into giant targets, the Jedi instead kept a low profile, searching through the generator room to find the saboteur. The forcefield that protected the generator was still functional, the saboteur/s would be trying to find the power cables to shut it down before shutting down the generator itself.
The layout plans indicated that there were 3 large cable systems, each enough to power the shield on its own, that ran through the middle most level, each enough to power the shield on its own, the one that Ahsoka had landed upon. Something to be wary about that was for certain, her search for the Droids might place her into the path of the Droids searching for the power cables.
The two ARC clones were above, assisting the Flash Clones in retaking the control room. Her Master Anakin was coming in from above, pushing down while Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi was pushing in from the bottom. Ahsoka due to her smaller stature and her training in the art of being more stealthy than the other 2 Jedi, was on the center. Her task to check upon the 3 power cables to either ward off any Droids or to tag any explosives that had been planted. Of the 3 of them, Obi-Wan was he who had trained in demolitions, more to disarm them than any desire to use them himself. On Ahsoka's signal, he would expedite his search and make way to disarm anything that might explode. Anakin had trained to wield both his blaster and his lightsaber with equal competence. He would be providing their fighting strength.
It was with this in mind that Ahsoka made her way from the entrance to the first shield power cabling that had been indicated, her feet lightly touching upon the industrial constructs that breached the levels and towered above her puny mortal form. She was using a new technique that had been rediscovered by the Jedi searching their libraries, their search for their past turning up useful skills.
A force push to the lower back in an upwards motion was enough to send her flying, minor adjustments by pushes to the front or flanks in essence, made her a guided missile. Her magnetic gloves allowing her to maintain her grip, even while hanging from the sides of structures or even from ceilings like a small mammal of some kind. It was with this that Ahsoka moved through the structure, leaps from point to point, swinging off the catwalks above when there wasn't anything to grip. Her eyes constantly scanning through the goggles, searching for any sign of movement.
The Jedi made her way through the core, her vest secured with the grenades, blaster and ammunition that came standard. Her body protected by some custom made Trooper Armour, something to fit her smaller frame.
As she approached the first of the power cables, she spotted what was very clearly a Commando Droid, its form hunched as it placed a square block upon the large pipe that housed the shield's power route. If it had been her from before, Ahsoka would have leapt straight at the Droid, her lightsaber humming and the Droid would have been cut in half. If it had been her from before, the Commando Droids would have struck from behind, their ambush sprung and Ahsoka forced onto the defensive, relying on her masters to protect her from the Droids.
Luckily she had been trained in the art of combat, actual combat that is and stopped. Her left hand anchoring her to the pump, her feet angled and braced on the smooth metal to alleviate some of the weight. From her vantage point on high, Ahsoka surveyed the mess of machinery below her, spotting several Droids that had been waiting, their blasters aimed very clearly at the one planting the charge. They had been expecting something and it was by caution and training that she avoided the attack.
Ahsoka mapped out a plan of action, there were 6 of them below, not including the one planting the charge and they were spread out very conveniently in a wide fan formation. If she was quick enough and more importantly, quiet enough, she would be able to take them all out silently. A deep breath and she dropped down, using a force pull on her upper body to slow the fall. With her descent slowed enough that she wouldn't make a noise when she landed, Ahsoka reached down to touch the first of the Commando Droids.
The Droid's logic modules were located in the chest, the head being a dedicated communication module. As such in order to stealthily take out the Droids, one needed to both render the logic module in the chest as well as the emergency SOS located in the head that would alert the other Droids linked to it in a martyrdom moment. Ahsoka's solution to the problem was simple yet brutal. It required minute control over the Force but given that she had little to do after the physical training in the Blockade Forces, training her own abilities was a given.
It would come to fruition now, as her left hand grasped the Droid's head, her right touching it's back. Several Force pushes from different angles but originating from the same point, the Droid's inner circuits were shredded. With 2 different origin points, a few centimeters from her hands, the head and the chest were internally shredded, no sound or sign that anything had happened on its exterior. While a high-level technique, it was made easier by using the palms as a focus point, something that she had learnt the hard way considering her Master had enough power to simply brute force any problems he came across.
Ahsoka cradled the Droid and placed it gently on the ground, her feet already in motion the second it was down and secured, moving to the second and third Droids. It was a trivial matter to end them as well, the rest of the squad going down just as quickly. What was slightly more difficult was the first Droid, the one that was planting the explosive in the first place. It was nearly finished, the Droid standing up and removing a small stick that indicated it was a detonation button.
She couldn't allow it to press the button, her hand reaching out and ignoring the 30-meter gap between them, formed a highly concentrated ball of Force, throwing it out at the Droid. It struck and the Droid flew off the piping, over the railing and clattering against the side of the chamber, sliding all the way down the portal into the planetary core. A small smile made its way onto his face as Ahsoka pinged Obi-Wan about the presence of an explosive.
A clattering behind her stopped any attempts she was going to make to search for further explosives. She turned rapidly, lightsaber out in her right hand, blaster in the left. There was no point at being stealthy now when she had been found out.
"Good morning Jedi, I am Xiong Shen. May I see your face before we do battle?" Came the voice behind her. A very smooth and completely out of place voice. Ahsoka frowned as she turned to face the new figure.
His skin was red, his body looked to be that of someone that was barely older than her, his form barely reaching the chest of her Master. His form was rather lithe, skinny but not abnormally so, his body clad in what looked like armoured robes. His head however, was unarmoured, his face sharp with sloped eyes. Sloped because they were smiling at her.
Unfortunately for him, Ahsoka's head was covered in a helmet, her body as well. The only sign that she was any gender at all was her voice, one she had not yet hidden with a voice modifier. Her one last appeal to vanity. At the same time, she had not yet managed to put a leash on her tongue either and she asked rather testily.
"What are you?" Lightsaber jabbing in his direction.
His eyes opened wider, in appreciation it looked like and he grinned, "Fair Maiden, I am what you might call "Sith", at your service." Bowing as he said so, leaving himself open for an attack as he did so. Ahsoka took the opportunity, her sense of honour beaten out of her inside the training facilities of the Blockade Forces. Honour was for the dead and the stupid, a way for those that were weak to fight against the strong. A way to say "that is unfair" to the weapons and abilities they themselves could not use. No, honour was useless and Ahsoka learnt that through her bruises.
She dashed directly at him, face bared in a savage smile as she did so. Lightsaber angled slightly to her right, blaster firing on the left in order to herd him into her blade. Basic initiation tactics. His hands didn't even have a weapon in them, indeed he was standing wide open.
More naive her would have thought that he unarmed and tried to bring him in for questioning. Beaten and experienced her, who had lessons ground into her skull wasn't as foolish, one did not lead the way on a sabotage mission without being so stupid as to be unarmed. She was proven right as a… sword? A sword came out and clashed with her blade, its ethereal makeup somehow resisting the contained plasma that was a lightsaber.
Surprisingly he jumped back instead of counterattacking, grinning the whole time.
"I'm sorry to cut this short but our time is up. It has been nice to make your acquaintance Jedi, we shall meet again soon." He said as he blurred. His body disappearing from view, the small signature he had in the Force vanishing as well.
Ahsoka frowned, unsure at what he meant before a shudder ran through the facility and klaxons sounded. Red light bathed the chamber as a voice rang out.
"Jettisoning Core. Evacuate. Jettisoning Core. Evacuate." It said, repeating in a never-ending loop.
Ahsoka stared in horror at the gantries that were now disconnecting themselves from the center. The damn bombs had been a distraction. She growled before sprinting to the exit, her body being lifted as she jumped and pushed her way through the ups and downs of the chamber. Lungs burning, her own connection to the Force fraying as she pushed herself to the limits of her body.
It wasn't enough however, her body wasn't fast enough or she was too far from the entrance. Either way, it didn't matter and Ahsoka needed a plan B. Plan B consisted of her leaping off the gantry and using her gloves to stick to the side of the Chamber, not too soon as the gantries began to shudder, their own anchors loosening. Before long the entire chamber was emptied as the generator was shot down the portal, followed by the gantries and the power cabling... along with the bomb, shortly after.
Ahsoka hung on the chamber walls. Slowly making her way to the entrance, it wouldn't do to have her fall into the portal. She gave a groan, what a first mission huh.