In the vast expanse of the Outer Rim, a mission gone awry leaves the Republic fleet in tatters. Their objective, to eradicate a persistent thorn in their side, has instead resulted in their own forces being decimated. Only one admiral remains from the original set, the others lost amidst the wreckage of the battle.
The four prototype ships, the Republic's target had managed to escape, along with a small CIS battle group. The Republic's failure to capture these ships has only added to their mounting frustrations.
Admiral otto, the sole surviving commander of the Republic fleet, is seething with anger. Forced to report his failures, he now finds himself in a precarious position.
Meanwhile, the CIS battle group that managed to escape is now regrouping. Their forces, though battered, are far from defeated. Admiral Winter, fueled by the loss of his home and the desire for revenge, is determined to turn the tide of the war in their favor.
As the dust settles and the remnants of the Republic fleet lick their wounds, the stage is set for the next act of this galactic drama. The Clone Wars still rage on, and in the midst of this chaos.
/break
"Report, W1SH," I said quietly, looking out the Bismarck's viewing windows.
W1SH had seen how I was planning the battle in my favor until the Republic arrived with more forces than my fleet could handle. Looking at the video feed, I could count around twenty Venators and only two Victory Star Destroyers. There were so many support ships that W1SH's processor couldn't keep up with a plan to counter them.
"The fleet lost two Providence-class dreadnoughts, ten Recusant-class light destroyers, and twenty Munificent-class frigates," W1SH reported, then continued, "Fifty squadrons of Vulture Droids and five squadrons of Mark Ten Interceptors were also lost. What remains of the fleet is ten Munificent-class frigates, one Providence-class dreadnought, two Recusant-class light destroyers, three Enforcer-class cruisers, and two Lucrehulk-class battleships." W1SH's voice held no hint of sorrow for the lost droids, a sentiment not evident in the droids themselves.
I said nothing, only turned around and left the bridge, using the elevator to head to my quarters. As the elevator arrived, my head started throbbing. I clenched my teeth as the pain continued for a moment before subsiding. When the elevator doors opened, I walked in calmly and pressed a button labeled 'ten-one', where my room was located on the ship.
/time break
As I waited for the elevator to open, I looked towards a well-polished window that reflected my image. I could see my eyes had gone slit, a sign that I had gone too long without my medication. I needed to get back soon before I lost sense of my surroundings. I didn't remember what happened that day, but W1SH had pulled up many recordings on the ship and other times I had blacked out. The last was bad; a famous general in the CIS military was going to visit the Nal system, but one of my blackouts occurred before they even arrived. When I woke, there were droid bodies around me in the shape of a nest.
"Sir, are you going to your room? Please leave less of a mess," someone in front of me said as I looked down.
It was a new model B1a2, they seemed to be the one assigned to clean my room when I was gone. Looking down further, they had my bed sheets in their hands. I only took away my blue blanket and walked down the corridor. As I walked down the hallway, I eventually reached a door that looked simple, yet out of place.
When I took my first step into my room, I always seemed to forget how large I had made it. I kind of hated how I left it in Spartan decor due to my lack of personal need for luxury. The only thing I cared about was having a nice bed and my blue blanket. Looking around, I saw a desk where my medicine was and a few feet away was my bed with nothing on it. I didn't bother with placing my blanket on the bed, I just walked towards my desk and sat down in the chair, grabbing a needle from the second drawer where other empty needles and bottles labeled 99-Minete, 99-Zeme, and 99-Emesis were kept. I reached down and picked the bottle with the label 99-Minete on it. I stopped for a moment and sighed out loud.
"Why do I do this to myself? I've been taking this drug since the second battle of Geonosis," I said aloud, not caring who heard me at this moment.
I stared at the bottle for a little bit, seeing how much I could use, just to send myself into a dream-like sleep. There was only one-eighth of an ounce left in it. I looked back into the drawer to see if there was another bottle, but there were a lot of empty bottles of all three with there being more 99-Minete bottles in said drawer.
After a moment, I just started picking up the empty bottles and placing them on the desk but soon after one, two, and three rows later. I just realized that most of the medicine in this drawer was almost empty bottles of 99-Minete and three full 99-Zeme and twenty 99-Emesis. Staring at my bottle of 99-Minete, I grabbed the needle and inserted it into the bottle, filling it up to hundred milligrams. Placing the bottle down, I put pressure on my right hand until I saw my vein pop up. I stabbed quickly before another headache happened. The pain in my hand didn't stop me from injecting myself with 99-Minete.
The feeling of the needle left in awaken states before grabbing the blanket and head to my bed to fall asleep. I only few moments I close my eye to sleep and to let the mendice do it thing.
/Break/
"General, what is the plan? The fleet has taken heavy damage and the admiral has disappeared," one of the prototype tactical droids spoke up, while the other three sat back and listened.
General W1SH waited patiently, listening to the major drone on about the fleet's status. W1SH had dealt with many minor organic commanders in his time of service, but this droid was starting to make his power core overheat.
"Silence, brother. We are not in command of the first fleet. That is the admiral's responsibility and he is not here. The best thing we can do now is find a planet to rebuild and make repairs on the fleet," the prototype droid on the left spoke up on the hologram.
The one in the middle fell silent after being scolded by his sister. He then made an excuse about having to check on ammo stock in his ship, the Bloodline, and his hologram silhouette disappeared, leaving the meeting with the one on the right just laughing at his brother's misery.
During this exchange, a B1 droid walked into the room holding a hologram of a planet. They placed it on the table right in front of the remaining three high-ranking officers in the battle group. General W1SH looked at the image, seeing the planet was classified as an industrial or vacation world.
"How far is the planet?" General W1SH asked the B1, hearing the Bismarck's second reactor warming up.
The droid handed over a tablet with the distance of how far away the planet was from the fleet. Seeing it and realizing the distance, W1SH understood that only the second fleet and the Bismarck could make the journey in a short period of time.
"Captains of the second fleet, prepare to move with the Bismarck. Coordinates will be sent to you shortly," General W1SH ordered, then stood up and left the room as the other two captains bowed their upper torsos.
W1SH turned around, his gaze falling on the B1 droid. He had only one thing to say to them at the moment, given his pressing need to return to the bridge.
"Oom-1000A12, are you coming, or would you prefer to clean the meeting room?" W1SH asked, his tone leaving no room for argument. He then turned back around and began to stride away, his metallic footsteps echoing in the quiet room.
Oom-1000A12 didn't respond verbally, but their actions spoke volumes. They quickly scurried to catch up with W1SH, their hurried steps a stark contrast to the general's measured pace. It was clear that Oom-1000A12 had no desire to be left behind to clean the meeting room.
As they walked, the silence between them was comfortable, each lost in their own thoughts. W1SH was likely strategizing their next move, his processor working overtime to calculate the best course of action. Oom-1000A12, on the other hand, was probably relieved to be spared from cleaning duty.
The journey to the bridge was uneventful, the ship's corridors eerily quiet. The only sounds were the hum of the ship's engines and the occasional beep from a passing droid. It was a stark reminder of the calm before the storm, the brief respite before they would once again be plunged into the chaos of the unknown.
As they neared the bridge, W1SH slowed his pace, allowing Oom-1000A12 to catch up. The general then turned to the B1 droid, a silent question in his gaze. It was time to prepare for the next phase of their mission, and every droid, no matter how insignificant, had a role to play.
Upon entering the bridge, W1SH spotted a B1 droid with its hand in a jar labeled 'pickles'. W1SH had reached his limit with these foolish droids and within moments, a flip flop was in his hand.
"Oom-1005M01, you have exactly five seconds to run," W1SH warned, beginning to count down to zero.
The B1 droid screamed in terror and started running for its life, but it was already too late. The sound of metal hitting metal echoed throughout the bridge.
"La chancla viene por ti, Oom-1005M01," W1SH's speaker shouted aloud as he chased after Oom-1005M01.
In just a second, W1SH stopped, with Oom-1000A12 running behind him, speaking in the same language. As Oom-1005M01 was about to reach the elevator door, W1SH threw the so-called 'la chancla'. The sound of the chancla hitting Oom-1005M01's head, causing him to sway and then hit the ground, echoed through the bridge.
"Now, Oom-1000A12, input the coordinates this time," W1SH calmly instructed, while another chancla was at the ready in their to be thrown at Oom-1005M01's head once more.
/Else where on a planet/
"Today's weather is clear skies with no rain clouds in sight," a radio-like voice announced. "With temperatures around eighty, I wouldn't recommend wearing a coat. Later in the afternoon, the royal guards will be doing a flyby with their ships."
A dark gray hand reached out to switch the radio channels, and a jazz song started playing. Water began to fall into a drain, creating a soothing rhythm. The camera panned out to reveal a bipedal pony with bat wings protruding from her back. A smaller one, presumably her child, ran up behind her, jumping up and down and flapping his wings in an attempt to see what the taller one was doing.
She turned her head around to see him performing this little act. Shaking her head back and forth, she chuckled at his antics.
"What's the matter, Rain, you silly little colt?" she asked, picking up another dirty dish from her right.
The little colt, Rain, stopped his jumping and put his hands behind his back. He tilted his head sideways and then said the most amusing thing she had ever heard.
"Stallions of metal are going to visit our planet, Mom," Rain finally said, his eyes wide with excitement. With that, he ran off to engage in another of the day's adventures, leaving his mother to return to her dishwashing.
She couldn't help but smile at her son's imagination. The idea of 'stallions of metal' visiting their planet was certainly a novel one. As she scrubbed the dishes, she found herself humming along to the jazz tune, her thoughts drifting to the afternoon's flyby. It was just another day in their peaceful life, filled with chores, laughter, and the endless curiosity of a little colt.