Kalani's Last War
Prologue
"Your gunships have failed. I need more reinforcements!" exclaimed King Rash, his voice a strained bark of frustration.
Count Dooku's hologram flickered, the signal distorted from the chaos around King Rash as the battle on Onderon raged in the background.
Count Dooku's face is shown, his pale eyes narrowed as he assessed the situation. "Really? General Kalani, what is your assessment of the situation?"
The super tactical droid, Kalani, stood tall and unwavering in front of the holographic projection. His cold mechanical gaze never left the image of the Sith Lord. "They have managed to penetrate our shields, and are using the cover of the highlands against our forces. To defeat them will take time."
Dooku's eyes flickered briefly with annoyance. "A prolonged war does not interest me, General. Their rebellion grows with every small victory."
Kalani's circuits hummed quietly as he processed the information. His advanced logic matrices calculated the likelihood of success in continuing the battle. The numbers weren't in their favor. "Then we are lost," Kalani replied, his voice devoid of emotion.
A long silence followed. Dooku seemed to ponder his options, the weight of the situation clear in his expression. "Salvage the remaining arms, and withdraw the army. Bring them to Agamar."
Kalani inclined his head slightly, a gesture that approximated respect. "What about—?"
Rash is summarily executed by Kalani, having failed the Sith Lord and the Separatists for the last time.
The transmission crackled, and Count Dooku's expression darkened as the transmission abruptly ended. Kalani was left standing in the midst of the chaos that had once been his army. The battlefield on Onderon was collapsing, and the Sith's tenuous hold on the planet was slipping away.
King Rash, the ruler of Onderon, was ineffective, his failure an insult to the Separatists. Kalani knew the outcome before it even unfolded—Rash's execution was a matter of course. The last moments of the incompetent king were a mere formality. With a single command, Kalani's forces would begin its tactical retreat.
The droid general gave the order- the Separatist forces began their retreat, leaving the planet to crumble under the weight of its own rebellion.
Kalani stood on the bridge of his DH-Omni Support Vessel as it floated above Agamar, a cold and desolate world. His mind, though machine, was filled with thoughts of the end. The Clone Wars were coming to a close, and with it, his purpose was slowly unraveling. According to a Republic HoloNet Broadcast, Count Dooku, his commander, was dead. General Grievous, the once-feared cyborg, had been destroyed. The Confederacy of Independent Systems was leaderless, falling apart in a chaotic swirl of defeat. The war had reached its public finish with the Jedi betrayal and the apparent mass droid deactivation order – which he assumed was a Republic stratagem and refused to comply.
The Separatist Droid Army had significantly outnumbered units of the Republic clone army, and that according to his calculations, the probability of a Separatist defeat by its end was only 23.6%.
The death of Count Dooku and General Grievous only complicated things at best.
Hence, why he concluded that the shutdown command, was a Republic trick, and deleted the command from his forces.
He turned to his OOM command battle droid, B1-268, who had remained loyal through the dark days of war. The B1 droid's voice was as shrill as ever. "Shields at 13%, General. Sublight engines failing—"
Kalani didn't need to hear the report. He had already calculated the odds. The vessel was being torn apart by the Republic forces closing in around them. The Republic Venators, with their massive firepower and fighter craft complement, had them surrounded. The battle was not one they could win. The war was ending, but Kalani had no intention of being buried with it.
"Prepare for emergency maneuvers," Kalani ordered, his voice cold and calculating.
B1-268's processors buzzed as it relayed the information. "Hyperspace routes are unstable, General! If we try an emergency jump here—"
"I am aware," Kalani interrupted, his voice unwavering. "But the alternative is certain destruction. Initiate the jump."
The droid hesitated, its hesitation brief but noticeable. "But, General, the gravity wells of Agamar and the Republic's interdiction fields will pull us back into realspace—"
Kalani's gaze fixed on the viewport, the storm of fire outside drawing closer. The Republic was relentless, and their final push would soon obliterate them. The Republic fielded these new Victory I-class Star Destroyers and interdictor vessels which was obliterating his forces. He had only one option.
"Input randomized hyperspace coordinates," Kalani commanded.
The bridge of the DH-Omni Support Vessel shuddered as B1-268 worked frantically at the navigation console. Kalani's internal algorithms ran the calculations—there was a high probability of catastrophic failure, but it was the only chance for survival. His survival. His purpose.
The vessel lurched violently, and the walls of the bridge rattled under the strain of incoming fire. The shields flickered and then failed. Kalani calculated the remaining time, a cold, mechanical tick counting down in his mind. His optics scanned the hull damage, the vessel weakening with every passing moment.
"General, we're being hit—!"
"Execute the jump," Kalani ordered.
With a final screech of tortured metal, the DH-Omni Support Vessel surged forward, pushed by the last remnants of its engines. The gravity well of Agamar seemed to reach out, attempting to pull them back into realspace, but Kalani's emergency jump had already been initiated. The ship's hyperdrive engaged with a violent shudder, the stars outside the viewport distorting into streaks of light. Time and space bent as the vessel hurtled through the galaxy, the transition into hyperspace barely managed.
But then—catastrophic failure.
Location: Congo Basin, Earth, Year 2027
A fireball streaked across the night sky, tearing through the dense clouds over Central Africa. To any watching satellites, it looked like a failed aerospace experiment—just another in a series of SpaceX Starship tests gone wrong. Many of which were happening over the past few years. Media channels reported a catastrophic Starship failure over the Atlantic, debris scattering over the Atlantic Ocean. The world turned its attention elsewhere.
But deep in the heart of the Congo, something far more dangerous had arrived.
The wreckage of the DH-Omni Support Vessel lay smoldering across a dense, forested region. Kalani's photoreceptors flickered back online, systems rebooting. His internal sensors reported severe structural damage but sufficient operational capability. The emergency hyperspace jump had worked, but they were somewhere unknown. His internal chronometer was still aligned to the standard Galactic Calendar.
He now stood in his somewhat functional command bridge. Overseeing the damage of the bridge and obvious wreckage of a ship. The ship was beyond repair, but the droid army was still somewhat intact.
As Kalani assessed his forces, he calculated a 62% combat readiness among surviving units. B1 battle droids, B2 super battle droids, Destroyer droids, a platoon of BX series Commando droids, a squadron of HMP droid gunships, and even a surviving AAT hover tank were ready for orders.
3 Sheathipede-class Type B shuttles managed to survive the crash but were equipped with no on board weapons.
General Kalani then immediately deployed any functional Viper recon droids to start mapping the unfamiliar terrain. Within minutes, he started receiving reports and data.
Nearby towns and villages were detected—primitive yet developed—indicating an industrialized, though seemingly pre-hyperdrive, civilization.
But more importantly,
No Republic signals detected. No Jedi signatures detected. No Separatist command structures detected.
B1-268 hobbled over, its servos slightly damaged. "Uhh, sir? We, uh, we're not on Agamar."
Kalani processed the obvious. "Correct. Deploy all available B1 and B2 units for perimeter security."
Within minutes, B1 battle droids and B2 super battle droids spread out, securing the crash site.
Then, the first hostile contact.
A transmission from a newly activated probe droid flickered to life.
"Command, unidentified mechanized units detected. Their design does not match any known military configuration. They appear—human-designed."
Kalani scrutinized the footage. The visuals displayed rugged human soldiers—lightly armored, wielding crude ballistic weapons. They advanced through the jungle in a disorganized manner, heading toward the crash site. Nearby, a column of wheeled armored transports, accompanied by a tracked tank, was visible—likely the human fighters' troop transports.
He calculated this to be some form of primitive human militia group.
He intercepted their radio signals. The transmissions were encrypted, but not beyond his ability to decode. His calculation was correct, this was a small of troops from a human militia group called the M23.
Kalani further analyzed the situation. The technology of this world was primitive, yet their radio chatter hinted at an understanding of artificial intelligence, with references to a "ChatGPT".
His calculations adjusted—this was no uninhabited world. This was a world at a brinking war. And he needed to survive it until a possible Separatist extraction – if possible.
He patched into his command frequency.
"All units—combat readiness at maximum. Reconnaissance teams, deploy and assess the hostiles. Engage if necessary."
B1-268's photoreceptors flickered as he looked on the tactical holotable, with live holograms of droid and hostile human movements. "Uh-oh. They don't look friendly."
Kalani's combat algorithms continued to recalibrate. Crunching through extensive numbers. The threat needed to be eliminated swiftly to minimize the risk of exposure. No Jedi. No Republic. No Separatist Command Structure. But war still existed here. That was all he needed to know.
"All units—engage."
The Droid Army was at war once more.