Chapter 20

In the den of night, the army moved as one. They gladly wore the title of Viperstrike Legion. Some would refer to them as terrorists later. Some would call them heroes. Did they have doubts? Private ambivalent thoughts? Perhaps but they would not take back any decision made that day.

The mission was clear. Go inside, kill Jabba and his lackeys, save as many lives as possible.

If they fail, the Hutt may be able to escape to the unknown parts of the galaxy and find a way to sabotage their efforts.

None of them would allow that to happen.

In truth, the Jedi Exploration Corps could have done something long ago without forcibly taking over, but granted it was the obvious that the slavers would never let their property go without a fight. There were always chances of replacements.

Still, it came down to former slaves of different fashions - that included Vader - for this to be even thought of.

As they approached the towering gates of Jabba's fortress, they all paused. Vader sensed that Jabba's guards were still armed on the other side. Given his crusade was still known, the Hutt most likely considered the possibility of them returning for their supposed leader.

He wasn't here for any pleasantries aside from delivering Jabba's head on a pike and handing it off for the former slaves and those who still are suffering to rise.

With a commanding gesture, the gates creaked open, revealing the chaos that awaited them. Much to his sick sense of amusement, it was not only Gamorreans that met them, unlike the Jabba from his timeline who was less paranoid and managed to keep his image up for many decades afterwards or so, there were also Jabba's henchmen, armed and ready, armored.

He would not even offer them a chance to surrender. While they have a few in captivity and heavily guarded and shall be judged rightly when the time comes, they would not receive the same chance.

When the night fallen, Jabba the Hutt would be nothing more than a memory.

They gathered up, their blasters aimed at this army who just waltz themselves in.

"Where's Cliegg Lars?" Vader demanded icily, hand looming over his lightsaber still concealed in his robes.

These scums were a dereliction of the galaxy, their molecules a waste. They would not stop him, not now in the hype of his power, not when he has many targets to vent at.

The Legion raised their blasters at their foes direction, ready but didn't fire until Vader made the movement.

"Ya leader is being held in Jabba's palace for public torture," one of the Nikto henchmen said arrogantly, "whatever you want in trying to save him, ya won't get it."

Ah, stupid fools, still couldn't understand the true puppeteer was standing before them.

Each of the Gamorreans was confident that they had little to fear, but one's hand was shaking over his weapon, more angsty than the rest and eager for blood. Vader knew instantly that he would be the one who would come to face him first, the one whose doom shall be due to fear.

And right he was, as he took the initiative to charge forward, quicker than many had expected from their kind, yet still nothing in an experienced viewpoint.

It was a pity in some way to think their kind was no longer as strong as they once were. At one point such as in the Jedi Civil War, they fought alongside the Sith and were involved in slave rings, some even serving as the rulers of them themselves. Now, they were nothing more than animals, mere shadows of bygone eras.

Or perhaps, this was just Vader's biased experience. Nothing would ever live up to all the combat that he had engaged in throughout his life.

Thus, Vader simply stood, lightsabers still clipped on his belts. The foolish Gamorrean approached his hooded form, unaware of what such an action would cause. It didn't matter at the end of it all.

He swung the hilt in his direction faster than he could see. The lightsaber wasn't there for a moment, and then it was - a blinding blue blur.

When it appeared he was going to manage to land a strike on Vader, the Gamorrean's head was decapitated from his shoulders for all to see.

They looked up horrified as the headless body dropped to the ground. The rest's eyes widened when they registered what happened. Some of them shuddered as they couldn't even raise their blasters.

"This is getting out of hand! Now there are two of them!" a voice from the back shouted.

On the contrary, his allies were motivated by the death of such a lowly individuals, allowed it to fuel them. Vader didn't even have to give the orders. Jabba's lackeys were too afraid, and they all enjoyed this. The Viperstrike Legion may have been too, if not for him being on their side.

Ann leveled her blaster rifle at the second target close – a Klatooninian bodyguard - one who seemed like he recovered and was about to fire at Vader - and pulled the trigger. Beside her; Tann, Hakyrr, Remy, Lilgen, Asha, along with the rest of the freedom fighters trained their blasters on them and sprayed them with bolts.

The liberators forced themselves through, shooting at whoever was in sight, helping one another simultaneously.

The Dark Side enjoyed this brutality, and Vader intended to fed it with these wasted fools. He hadn't had any top of elation. Obviously, those of his allies weren't deserving of his wrath, Sing's display was disappointing, and all of the other bounty hunters he had dealt with were no Cad Banes or Boba Fetts.

Despite their losses, none within the army were discouraged, knowing that each death fueled them.

Their deaths would mean something more once the day is over, even though the bounty on them would increase.

Very few would have thought of this being possible from former slaves. At one point, the thought of freedom was beyond anything that was conjured up in them since they trained day and night for this.

The freedom fighters' bolts were a blur of motion, their skills honed through their shared experiences of pain and suffering. Let the slavers come for them, for they would counter them or die trying.

Some of the scum ditched their blasters and charged forward, gripping sidearms like vibroswords and knives in their hands. Vader just simply allowed them to come at him.

He let them.

Vader stabbed his lightsaber through the chest of a Rodian, using the momentum to swing his lightsaber around and chop another down, and bisect another one, twisting his weapon around and continuing the cycle, relishing every time his blade met its marked.

At last, someone managed to lock blades with him. The Weequay fell back slightly, surprised that their blades actually came together without an outright death like the rest.

Vader grinned. Usually, lightsabers would cut through such swords unless... Of course, Jabba had time to improve his weapons as well.

Cortosis-weave. The weave was inlaid on the blades to prevent the sword from being cut into. It was frowned upon by the Jedi Order for understandable reasons, but Vader knew that Jabba had his ways, not caring about if the Jedi found out about him possessing such material.

Vader battered his defensives with his lightsaber, and the Weequay was forced to pull back slightly, realizing his flawed judgment in engaging in combat with such a man. He would not provide him with an opportunity to escape, however.

At last, the Weequay's left arm wielding the fighting blade went, and his lightsaber buried through his stomach, allowing him to fall on the ground instantly. All of this happened in mere seconds.

More surrounded him, looking at the dark figure with his lightsaber, and Vader flourished his blade in their direction, daring them to come forward. They lunged forward. Each strike, each enemy vanquished, was all worth it.

When the final enemy - revealed to be that of a Nautalon - collapsed due to a blaster bolt by one of the freedom fighters, they all waited, knowing that there may be more.

Vader sensed it coming.

The door opened, and they all fell back, giving some ground or risk more of their own being killed by another group of slavers. Vader angled his lightsaber at their direction, allowing his allies to take up positions.

He froze when another unit exited and aimed their weapons, taking up positions. Twi'leks, Togrutas, humans. Too many of them. Of course, there were slavers among them who they killed before... but these batches were different, fearful... like the rest but for a different reason. It was almost as if part of them deep down didn't want to do this but felt obligated.

Vader frowned and reached into the Force, which only responded with sadness. It didn't take long for it to click in his mind. The slavers were sending their slaves! Have been training them to fight! Jabba was behind this! Did something that Sidious would have approved of, took away their independence, turned them against their fellows, and sent them out here to die!

The freedom fighters turned on them, not even coming up with that horrifying conclusion, but Vader held up his hand, which prevented them. Positioning the lightsaber on the ground in front of him, nonthreatening but at the ready, Vader spoke.

"Stand down. You don't have to do this. The slavers don't care." Vader tried to reason. He looked into their minds and saw they were not only beaten and enslaved anymore, but gone...

It matched their facial expressions. None of them wavered, their eyes dead and cold...

Vader turned, mentally asking them what they were thinking. The former slaves had their eyes closed, their weapons trained on their opposers, coming down to the realization as well.

The only response to Vader's speech was to click their weapons and train them.

"I have never seen these slaves before," Tann murmured. "Might either be transported elsewhere or were the few unfortunate ones that were brought here from the facilities."

And why wasn't it surprising that Jabba would order more slaves from across the galaxy to make up for the numbers that were lost at the auction many weeks ago?

"What do we now?" Lilgen asked. "No matter where they come from, they were slaves like us."

Vader didn't want to give the order, but these slaves likely didn't even hear about the freedom fighters movement. The Hutts would keep such a crusade on the low to keep up that image of unbeatable visages of power.

As far as they were concerned, they most likely were implanted with chips from elsewhere, not originating from the towers but one of Jabba's many allies. They were simply forced to obey and fight for this Hutt Empire to continue. They may have been used against the liberators were Vader actually to turned themselves in.

"We have to do it," Ann declared solemnly, something they all knew. Many others nodded grimly in agreement. "We'll make it... quick." She looked him right in the eyes. "The slavers has to be stopped."

She was right, Vader knew, but still he wished things could have been different.

In the end, it didn't matter. Vader could have stunned them with his Force abilities, but they all knew apprehending them one by one would waste too much time, especially since the stun options weren't guaranteed to last against lethal weaponry. Those within the dungeons were days away if not hours from breaking. They must not be able to fix this. Still Vader couldn't help but feel personally responsible for this.

Later, all of the survivors would understand what motivated the slavers to go so low. There was no justifying it. Not even in a rebellion.

Vader waved his hand to their direction, and the Force tossed many of them back. Some - fortunately - fell unconscious, but the number was low. The rest recovered and fired. On that cue, the rest of the fighters begin to put them down-over fifty of them. The freedom fighters loyalty to him didn't waver but their grief pouring in the Force did leave him with shame.

The first few kills were especially the hardest. After all, it was not to get a little disoriented when you're fighting with your own, those who went through the same hardships as you, those who hadn't been fortunate enough to escape as you did.

Those knocked down that were standing up were shot through. They were crushed in mere seconds. This was not surprising. They were sent out to fight and die being slammed with weapons, not having no choice on the matter.

They were in essence body bags...

The Hutts didn't even had it within them to give them proper armor. They were just mere distractions. Vader had to turn away as he felt his stomach twisting with disgust. He was killing not a bunch of slavers that deserved it and their followers, but his own... those who could have been saved had he came sooner, even though others would have felt it.

The final slave killed by Vader brought him out of the haze of battle and he almost dropped his weapon as he pulled it out, fighting the ache in his chest. This death had been quick just like all the others... a lightsaber cutting deep through the chest-a tormented woman in her middle twenties at most with black hair, brown eyes... a young soul cut down too soon. For a moment, he saw his mother, possibly one of the slaves sent out if things had been different, if he hadn't been able to free her from the slavers grasp.

The rest of the Viperstrike troopers ended the remaining slaves, bringing painful ends to their misery. Each of them hadn't wished to pull the triggers... hell, some of them have died or got wounded for it, even though it hadn't changed the outcome.

They all felt their anger increased. Of course, those slaver scum - namely Jabba and the rest of the Hutts - would send out his slaves, break them, beat them into total obedience. Was he planning to do the same with Cliegg? The thought of the man standing across from him, broken beyond the point of no return, disregarding the friendship they once had. It was almost too much for Vader to shake off.

"I'm sorry," Vader apologized to the slaves both on his side and most of all the dead. Would things have been better if he attacked sooner? That thought just wouldn't leave him. There was always Jabba having ways to reinforce the slaves he lost and do something different, but even if the chips went off, at least they wouldn't have been cut down by their brothers and sisters.

Or, Vader scowled, they could have faced an orbital bombardment by the rest of the Hutt scum.

"We understand, Vader," Hakyrr murmured angrily, hands tightening around his blaster. "We'll get the bastards who did this and avenge our fallen, both on our sides and theirs."

"And I have a daughter to get back to. Its either them or us unfortunately," another former slave, Hala, added. It had been shocking indeed when it turned out he saved Amee from losing her mother this time around, more so that she agreed to join them given her training was limited.

Looking, Vader saw the righteous anger radiating through them until his eyes landed on one. Neither of them could believe what they had just done.

Asha was trembling, and Vader moved over to him, her weapon on the ground in front of her. Tears soaked her eyes, his black hair a mess, small whimpers escaping her. By far, she was taking it the worst, being possibly the youngest one here.

Vader gripped her by the shoulder. "Speak, young one."

"I-I never killed anyone before," she admitted. "...Some of them got close and they managed to catch some of us because I hesitated. I could have saved them... but despite how the slavers were murderers, I still was hoping that they would just stop. Those five," she motioned to a group of the oppressors, alongside a group of Vader's own allies lying dead. "They must have someone who cares about them - sons, daughters, mothers, fathers, and now they would have to live with their deaths. And we just killed our own as well. I just killed fellow slaves!"

Vader once would have choked the woman for her failure or dismissed her apparent wimpiness. While he did often kept calm, when the Empire was truly established and a lot of veterans were either promoted or retired, many officers rose in the ranks with their main benefit being nepotism. One thing Vader was used for was to dispose of opponents, and Sidious often had him deal with scions of prominent families in the Core. If Vader had survived Endor, or successfully assassinated Sidious any other time, then when he attempted to keep the Empire together, he would have faced a lot of protest in especially the Core along with the giant fractions of military, who didn't want to risk the possibility of being strangled to death for the slightest of errors.

Commanding Clones during the war, who for all intents and purposes were super-soldiers due to their programming and the template utilized, admittedly gave him an over-exaggerated expectations of what troops should be able to do, his tactics being suicidal many times. The Clones enjoyed it, but the later human recruits simply couldn't do it due to not being born and served a decade of terribly insane intensive training before entering service.

The same could be said for the former slaves. They were just starting out in this deadly life. He could feel the emotions many of them had, albeit they concealed it better. For some of them, this was their first battle, and they were barely trained, sent out to fight and die... for a better Tatooine.

Adding onto this, despite how failures could be irritating at times, Vader would never choke any of them. And this was not incompetence. Just a young woman who was shaken up from her kills. Many of them were.

These were not Sidious's Stormtroopers, the Navy he'd respected but also found expandable.

Meanwhile, the ones unconscious by Vader's blast were being cuffed, a significantly low number of them though...

Vader began wiping the tears from her face. "It's going to be okay. My first kill took a long time to get over as well." He recalled how distraught he felt afterwards, and Obi-Wan had consoled him admittedly in one of their better moments. "You don't have to stay if you don't want to..."

"N-no, I can, but just..." She shook violently. "Why can't they just surrender? Make it easier? Why couldn't our fellows see things as we have?"

"The slavers are evil and twisted, and those slaves had been broken. They're not to be blamed, and we will make that clear. We shall prevent others from following the same fate."

The woman nodded and looked down. This would leave scars on her for sure like the rest of them, but which war was bloodless?

Vader turned to face his right hand Twi'lek.

"Ann, you would lead the Legion to the dungeons and rescue as many captive slaves as possible to prevent them from following the same fate."

Ann asked. "What about you?"

"Jabba likely has diverted his guards to make observations over the slaves progress. Some could be saved, and the slavers could get away with those slaves if not for a prevention. Alternatively, he likely knows about our presence or will soon. I'll deal with Jabba." Vader replied. "Remy, you and twenty others would stand out here."

A little squad, if anything else, arguably a platoon given the low amount of number.

Asha would be one who stayed out here as well, given they were moving in with the intent to not allow anyone to escape.

"Also, my ally is in the palace. Do not get in his way should he decides not to accompany us."

Vader would teach them proper military tactics for the future on a later date, as well as the ranks, positions, and what they meant.

"If I remember correctly, one of Jabba's medical centers was near the dungeons. We could try to remove the slave chips there." Tann pointed out, her expression harsh. "I do not have fond memories."

"That won't be wise," Hakyrr disagreed, "the droids serves the asshole. They could activate them chips. If we can remove Jabba first and them as well, we'll have a more likely chance. Even then, it can be risky."

Vader nodded, agreeing with the Cathar. "Cliegg is also being held in the throne room." He didn't know if the Hutt yet possessed that pit that later served as the rancor's home, but he wasn't taking any chances. "My ally has a frequency that will prevent the transmitters going off in the time being here."

The spy proved his loyalty to the cause already by subtly relocating slaves, but still the man's hands were tied, and he'd rather not be on the chopping block of the Hutt. Something Vader understood.

And Vader acknowledged just because he took care of the tower, Vader knew that the Hutt could always find another way. As shown just now, it may be unavoidable.

Still, Vader left the jammer with Mol because he would encounter even more slaves in Mos Espa.

Saving as many as possible here was preferable.

All of them stood straighter & gripped their blasters, knowing that the battle was far from over.

For a moment, he saw something, with white outlines. Shaking his head slightly, he disregarded it as it seemed to disappear.

Vader blinked a few times, wondering with thought was he seeing things?

Having no time to dwell, Vader walked inside. They pushed themselves through and began to cut through their opponents.

Arthur's note: I know some of you probably weren't expecting that, but it was coming to that. Remember, during the war between the Confederacy and the Union in the Civil War, slaves were often used against the Union despite how they were trying to end slavery (granted they were often used to building fortifications instead of outright being soldiers). Even when the Kaminoans turned their army of the Clones "treacherous gene cousins" on them in their uprising, even they had little choice. The same applies here. I made it clear before that Jabba and the remaining slavers tightened their holds. Now you see what I meant. They deserved so much more, but the freedom fighters had no choice here. It will make what comes next all the more satisfying. For all, I wanted to secure this in some realism, especially where the EU highlights things are not all black and white. This is not a full on "fix it" where Vader kills everyone who is a threat without consequences. This is more gradual: some outcomes would be better, others would stay the same, and some would be outright worse.

Soon, this arc is about to be wrapped up. Quite a shame. I personally had fun writing it despite how much I wanted Vader to just kill Jabba already. Three chapters left.

May the Force be with you all always.