"Nous sommes dans un pot de chambre, et nous y serons emmerdés." ("We are in a chamber pot, and we're going to be shit on.")
–General Auguste-Alexandre Ducrot
Responses:
V1lla32: ODPs would be useful but I think they have the same reasoning as nuclear silos, you wouldn't deploy them to what would then be 'back water' colony worlds, or course this all changes once the Republic invades and you will see a fuck ton of ODPs in the next chapters.
carter. hackett: Haha, oh they are definitely going to be in for a second Umbara, also I am a Super Earth veteran of Malevelon Creek so… :)
Sci-Fi Guy 22: They have but Strangreal still has insurgents, which I will touch on next chapter.
SpartanwolfJ6: thanks m8
Chryperion: Yeah, prolly will post this to AO3, my ao3 account btw is F35A if you guys are interested. (Don't have anything posted yet)
Zone-Meister: Well I'm glad this is becoming one of your favorites, as per the range issues I will say it is tough to balance what is essentially a throwing knife and a precision rifle so… maybe I'll go back and fix it once I finish this arc but I do promise that I will pay attention more to range as I move forth. Also no smoke to zzzxxc1 but I did feel weird that the UNSC and UEG outright aligned themselves with the CIS as a whole. I kinda liked the way Nightstalker did his take on it in 'The Terran-Republic Affair'. Of course I still love SoaGE and it is certainly one of my favorite works on this site.
Octavio Constant: you'll find out next chapter ;)
Blaze1992: I will eventually involve the Swords (WAAAAYYYY later) in this but for now I will settle with smaller mercenaries and perhaps military advisors hired by the UTSC to go help the CIS (or rather acceptable factions within).
Guest: me 2
Just a Crazy-Man: why thank you
N1cok: yeah, I realize it now too, like I said above I will return and likely fix it.
LegoDoc: War is Peace
StrkFreeGundm: I thank thee for such wisdom.
Azai Jin: no problem
Stormzy: we'll I'm starting to get into a groove (likely because the plot I have planned actually makes fucking sense for once) so maybe I'll go 2 chapters a month, who knows.
THE FOLLOWING HAS BEEN TRANSLATED TO ENGLISH FROM GALACTIC BASIC (For your viewing pleasure)
[7 April 2590]
FROM: Death Watch Council
TO: Kjin Wao Kassani
….
Kassani, I hope this finds you well.
With the passing of the Gaulus Sector Security Act the Grand Army of the Republic has consolidated its power and we as true Mandalorians have finally gained the recognition we deserve, unfortunately according to our insider there is significant resistance and the following legislative sessions, should Taa return from New Kilauea, will bring unwanted consequences.
We must not let Taa exert any more power, he has served his usefulness to us. We must get rid of him before he becomes a threat.
We have managed to purchase a Terran marksman rifle from a willing seller and have sent it to your hotel room. We hope this rifle finds you well for your mission.
This is the way.
–Pre Vizsla
Location: GRNS Triumph
April 10 2590
Commodore Aboth Trell
A Republic Fleet dropped out of hyperspace as a single planetary body came into view. A tropical world.
To a veteran such as Commodore Aboth Trell, it seemed to be a nice little rest from the raging Clone Wars. However such feelings were negated with all the rumors… er not rumors, they were very much confirmed, and quite brutally he should add, of the usage of nuclear weapons by the Terran military.
So Aboth was very much on his toes figuratively, his force of 5 Victorys and 2 Venators and 3 Acclimators could very well be wiped out by an opposing Terran Fleet but here above the world of 'New Kilauea' there was none.
When Aboth arrived in the system he thought it was a trick, it had to be!
The probe droid had correctly identified what seemed to be a small contingent of Terran warships but alas, he never saw them pop on scanners, only a few merchantmen and civilian craft.
"Check them again, there is no reason these Terrans simply abandon one of their Colonies," Aboth said, standing just a hairbreadth away from a sensor officer who was so close to throwing his hands up.
"Respectfully sir I am telling you, there are no Terran warships in the system, much less any identifiable military assets besides a few police craft!" the sensor officer repeated, this time in a much more aggressive manner. Aboth was about to scold the officer until a voice sounded just behind him, causing him to turn his attention elsewhere.
"Commodore."
"Commander Doom," Aboth replied, walking up to the Clone Commander who gave a salute before Aboth put him at ease.
"How are your preparations for the ground assault?"
Doom grunted. "Yes, but I think we both know something is up the Terran's sleeve."
Aboth could not agree more. "We must be vigilant Commander, the next thing you know we will all be floating in the vacuum because those Terrans seem to have an unnatural attraction to all things like missiles or torpedoes."
Doom replied with a chuckle which lightened the mood. Still didn't eliminate the growing twist in Aboth's stomach.
"That aside I am rather confused on why they deployed you here rather than stay with Master Tiplar on Strangreal?" Aboth asked, his smile dropping as did Doom's.
"If anything Commodore, Master Tiplar should be here in place of me, but Republic High Command ordered it," Doom replied, his eyes still firmly on the planet ahead of the Triumph.
Aboth scoffed. "You don't say? I would like for this not to be an open conflict, I have a feeling a Jedi, no matter how tactically inept they are, are miles better at negotiations then… hmmm… a Senator."
Whilst the Jedi were, respectfully putting it, 'stupid' when it came to naval doctrine, they were excellent negotiators and as far as Aboth was concerned, a war not started was a war won. Senators on the other hand were bumbling idiots in both departments, well at least a majority of them, simply enjoying Coruscant for themselves as their people suffered the Separatist onslaught.
Doom simply shrugged. "Well, we can only hope, right?"
Just as Aboth was about to reply, a sensor officer got his attention with a datapad in hand. "Sir, Senator Taa, and his congregation have arrived."
Aboth simply sighed in utter annoyance. He had heard he would receive a Senator to negotiate peace with the Terran colony world, or at the very least pledge to be neutral in this conflict, but not this scumbag of a Senator.
Aboth had heard stories of Taa (besides his voracious appetite which quite disgusted the Correlian native) and none of them painted a pretty picture. If he would, he would deny entry for the sake of the Triumph's mess hall but he had a duty and he would complete that duty.
"Let them dock, tell Captain Relian that he has command of the ship."
Aboth then turned to Commander Doom. "Well, I suppose I have my own battles to fight, just not in the vacuum, may the force be with you Commander."
With that Aboth did an about-face and walked out of the bridge and towards the hangars of the Triumph.
Aboth strode through the corridors of the Triumph with measured steps, his polished boots clanking against the durasteel flooring. The closer he got to the hangar bay, the deeper his irritation ran. Of all the Senators that could have been sent to handle negotiations with the Terran colony, Orn Free Taa was among the worst. A gluttonous, self-serving politician who was more interested in lavish banquets than diplomacy.
As the blast doors to the hangar slid open with a hiss, Aboth was met with the sight of a gleaming diplomatic shuttle resting in the docking bay, its landing ramp already lowered. At the base of it stood a pair of blue-skinned Twi'lek aides, their posture stiff and obedient. Between them, rolling down the ramp with an unmistakable waddle, was Senator Orn Free Taa himself. His rich purple robes barely concealed his corpulent frame, and his pudgy fingers toyed absentmindedly with the golden rings adorning them.
"Ahh, Commodore Trell! A pleasure, a pleasure indeed," Taa boomed, his voice oily and thick with forced warmth. His large lekku twitched slightly as his wide, fleshy lips pulled into an exaggerated smile. "I trust you have been keeping this ship in proper order for such an important guest?"
Aboth forced himself to keep his expression neutral, even as his fingers instinctively curled behind his back to restrain his annoyance.
"Senator," he greeted stiffly, offering only the barest of nods. "You honor us with your presence."
Taa let out a deep, self-satisfied chuckle, his belly shaking as he moved closer. "Yes, yes, of course! The Republic would be in dire straits without our steady leadership," he said, patting his gut as if it were a symbol of wisdom rather than indulgence. His beady eyes flitted briefly around the hangar, nostrils flaring as if expecting the scent of a grand feast. "Now then, I must say, Commodore, you seem rather tense. One would think you expected to be walking into a battlefield rather than a simple diplomatic discussion!"
Aboth exhaled through his nose, his patience thinning with each word. "That is because I am not in the habit of underestimating the Terrans, Senator," he said firmly. "There is no sign of their military presence in the system, which I find deeply concerning. If they have abandoned this colony, it would be highly irregular. If they are hiding their forces, then we may very well be walking into a trap."
Taa waved a hand dismissively. "Bah! You military men always expect war and bloodshed. Perhaps the Terrans have simply realized that resistance is futile and chosen to surrender their claim to this world. It would be the reasonable thing to do."
Aboth clenched his jaw but held back his retort. Reasonable? The Terrans had made it clear time and time again that they would rather fight to the bitter end than bow to any foreign power. Their use of nuclear weapons alone had sent shockwaves through the Republic's military command. To assume they would simply roll over and allow the Republic to take their colony was beyond naive—it was outright foolish.
Instead, Aboth turned the conversation toward the matter at hand. "Regardless, we have a plan should any Terran warships arrive in the system," he stated. "The Triumph and her escorts will remain in high orbit, maintaining a defensive formation. If the Terrans attempt to force us out, we will respond accordingly." His gaze sharpened. "This is a delicate situation, Senator. If it comes to hostilities, our objective is not to wipe out the colony but to ensure Republic control without needless bloodshed."
Taa's lips pulled into a smug grin as he patted Aboth's shoulder condescendingly. "Oh, my dear Commodore, that is exactly why I am here—to make sure we don't have to rely on your guns for everything. The Republic values diplomacy, and I shall ensure that these… Terrans see reason."
Aboth barely refrained from flinching at the unwanted contact. "If they do not, Senator?"
Taa chuckled, his rolls of flesh jiggling. "Then I imagine you soldier types will get what you want after all. Now then, where is the finest dining arrangement on this vessel? I find negotiations are best conducted on a full stomach."
Aboth inhaled slowly, counting to three in his head before responding. "The Triumph is a warship, not a pleasure cruiser, Senator. If you wish to dine, the officers' mess hall will suffice."
Taa let out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head as if lamenting his own hardships. "Very well, very well… But I do expect proper service."
Aboth said nothing, instead gesturing toward an awaiting officer to escort the Senator away. As Taa waddled off, still rambling about proper meal etiquette, Aboth let out a weary sigh, rubbing his temple.
This mission was already proving to be a headache, and the real challenge hadn't even begun.
Location: Republic FOB, Atakatiki
April 10 2590
Commander Doom CC-1139
The last LAAT dropped its supplies off as it rocketed back towards the Liberator which hung lazily above the luxurious capital city of Atakatiki.
Luxurious was the last word Commander Doom would use to describe Atakatiki. Luxurious would assume one could relax but with every tight corner, sudden turn, and dark alleyway Doom and the men of the 962nd Star Corp felt their fingers tightening around their triggers.
Doom had heard the horror stories from his fellow brothers and the word of Commander Cody, how exhausted the commander of the 212th Attack Battalion was after a week's worth of combat on the Terran colony world of Strangreal.
The Terrans ambushed convoys, organized raids against staging areas of the Republic, and finally used their weaponry to good use, their slugthrowers ripping his clone brothers to bits and pieces.
Whilst Doom didn't outwardly show it, he shuddered at the thought of being shot by one of the Terran's so-called 'assault rifles'.
"Sir, we have reports of civil unrest happening in the center of the city," one of his Lieutenants, Namor informed him. Doom sighed. While the 962nd was well trained to deal with rioters, it didn't mean Doom or any of his men enjoyed being regulated to glorified policemen.
Especially for some extravagant Senator who seemed way too self-absorbed for his own good.
"Get some light armor to the center, show them we mean business, I need heavy escorts, have Captain Ace take his troops and flank the east, you and Guard take your Platoon and flank west, I'll come down the south and we'll rally them in," Doom ordered as Lieutenant Namor nodded, saluted and jogged off to spread the information.
Commander Doom walked up to the speeder containing the Senator and his aides which hovered lazily behind an AT-TE.
Doom turned to the Senator, taking his helmet off before he spoke. "Senator, I'm deploying troops to make a corridor for your speeder, I highly suggest you do not engage in any dialogue with the locals until we have sorted out this diplomatic issue, this is a tibanna canister ready to pop at any moment."
"Why Commander I believe in connecting with the people, how else are we to communicate with each other?" the large Twi'lek replied, his obnoxiously jolly attitude hitting a nerve within Doom's body.
"Senator, this is serious, no waving, no hand gestures, nothing, I'm not sure how my boys can handle a riled-up crowd at this moment, keep everything to yourself until you arrive at the Hall," Doom repeated. Taa simply scoffed in response.
'I'll take that as a yes,' Doom thought as he tapped the back of the AT-TE, the walker moving to the side to let the speeder through. Doom hitched a ride on a trailing Sabre.
When Doom arrived at the City's center by Sabre tank he was astonished by the amount of people there. Now Doom had seen his fair share of large protests, often times larger than this but usually such protests were on densely populated worlds.
If Republic Intelligence proved correct then he was seeing a lot more people than expected on this sparsely populated colonial holding. This only made his job 10 times as hard.
"Kriff, they span all the way to the back," Captain Ace muttered on comms. Doom couldn't agree more, he took a look through handheld macro binoculars and scanned the flood of people, whistling to himself as he did so.
The protestors spanned the whole city hall, blocking roadways and waving massive flags, a majority of which held the Terran coat of arms and their colors. Doom noticed his men were barely keeping the peace, groups of protesters testing the limits to the fences and barriers that had been hastily erected by the 962nd.
"Alright everyone, reinforce the line formation! Get those shields up and prepare for any rioters, I want lookouts watching ledges and inform me of every movement!" Doom yelled, hopping off the Sabre Tank as he was followed by a few of his own men and a small squad of Coruscant Guard which had been assigned to follow the Senator.
As the speeder slowly approached the corridor which his troopers opened, the protesters seemed to stir, rotten fruit was thrown over the barricades and nearly struck Taa and his aides. Doom tensed, he had seen how a protest could easily dissolve into a riot and right now he was not in the mood to deal with it.
Chants of "LEAVE!" were followed by a few racial slurs and a few more rotten fruit attacks added to the already massive flags waving violently over the top of the crowd.
Doom felt the tension rise with every second the speeder inched forward. The protestors grew louder, their chants morphing into a chaotic symphony of anger and resentment. His fingers tightened around his duel DC-17 heavy blasters as he scanned the crowd, searching for the first sign that things would spiral out of control.
Then it happened.
A bottle, likely filled with some foul-smelling liquid, sailed over the hastily erected barricades and shattered against the side of a clone trooper's helmet. The trooper staggered but remained standing, though the impact caused his comrades to tense, some raising their shields instinctively.
That was all it took.
The front row of protestors surged forward, slamming against the barriers with enough force to make them rattle. The sheer number of them threatened to push past the defensive line. Several others hurled rocks and debris, pelting shields and clone armor.
"Hold the line!" Doom barked, his voice sharp and commanding over the chaos.
The Coruscant Guard reacted instantly, stepping forward and locking their riot shields together. Behind them, the 962nd troopers raised their weapons, some switching their blasters to stun mode, while others braced themselves against the barricades.
A heavier projectile—a broken duracrete brick—was hurled toward the Senator's speeder. One of Doom's troopers barely managed to deflect it with his shield, but the sheer aggression of the crowd had reached its boiling point.
"Fire stun rounds! Push them back!" Doom ordered.
Blue rings of stun blasts erupted from the clones, striking into the densest parts of the mob. Protestors crumpled under the non-lethal fire, their bodies spasming as they hit the ground. The aggressive ones at the front hesitated, suddenly unsure whether they wanted to press forward.
Captain Ace's forces took the opportunity to reinforce the western flank, forcing the most unruly elements to withdraw under the threat of more stun blasts. The eastern line, led by Namor and Guard, held strong as well, despite continued pressure.
A moment later, a loud CRACK echoed across the city square as a sonic grenade detonated, sending out a concussive wave that knocked several protestors off their feet. That was enough to break the momentum.
Doom wasted no time. "Advance the shields! Move them back!"
The Coruscant Guard took measured steps forward, their riot shields pressing against the crowd. The resistance wavered, protestors shuffling back reluctantly. The remaining rabble-rousers—realizing they were losing ground—launched a final desperate volley of debris before retreating deeper into the mass of bodies.
"Speeder, move! Move now!" Doom signaled to the driver.
Senator Taa's speeder accelerated, slipping through the controlled corridor as troopers maintained the pressure on the crowd. Doom kept his pistols at the ready, scanning for any last-ditch attempt to block the transport.
By the time the speeder reached the city hall steps, the worst of the riot had been contained. The protest still seethed, voices of dissent echoing off the walls, but Doom knew they had narrowly avoided disaster.
Taa stepped out of the speeder, straightening his robes as though he hadn't just been nearly pelted with rotten fruit. He turned to Doom with an infuriatingly smug smile.
"See, Commander? No harm done," he said.
Doom exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Let's just get inside, Senator."
Location: City Hall of Atakatiki
April 10 2590
Governor Reginald Holland
"I'm afraid Governor that you will have to surrender, it is the only way I can assure you and your planets safety," the Senator bellowed, the fat blue Twi-lek whose name Reginald learned was 'Orn-Free Taa' interlocking his fingers and attempting to make direct contact with with Reginald, perhaps as a way of intimidation.
However Reginald was not intimidated by who his Police Commissioner, George Irane had scathingly nicknamed, 'Fatass Blue Balls'. He had learned these tactics before when he was a Parliamentarian in the Terran Parliament so nothing was new to him.
"And what if we don't? You will take your star destroyers and bomb us into oblivion like what you did at Farbanti?" Reginald replied as he saw the Senator for Ryloth tightened at the mention of Farbanti, the biggest moral and tactical blunder committed by the Republic.
"Farbanti was… a military mistake, I, as the Senator for Ryloth, am promising you protection from the Separatist Alliance and their brutal Droid Army–" Orn Free Taa never had a chance to finish his sentence as Reginald interrupted him once more.
"A mistake? From what I've seen those Egret's were clearly marked as 'civilian' on all IFF scanners so no it wasn't, secondly the Separatists have never taken an interest in our world militarily, unless you are suggesting their B-1's need some serious downtime and have a night out at a strip club all of a sudden," Reginald replied, staring at the clones in green, a few of which shifted, causing their leader who went by 'Doom' to look at one of them funny.
Senator Taa seemed to freeze, his face betraying that he had no thought in his mind at this very moment as he desperately reached for straws. Luckily for Taa, Doom was nearby who seemed a lot more competent than the bumbling Senator.
"The captain responsible will be brought to court in due order, however since you are outnumbered and ARF's from my unit have confirmed that you have no Terran military presence besides the few policemen under your command then resistance is all but fruitless, I don't want this to become a shootout," the clone commander replied, surprisingly a lot more articulate than Reginald expected.
Reginald scoffed as he folded his arms. "And in the meantime what does this mean for the police?"
Commander Doom didn't waver under the glare of Reginald's Commissioner. "The police will have to lay down their arms, I can't trust them, especially around my men."
"Governor, respectfully I do not trust the Republic to be policing the people my men and women protect and serve, much less when we are without weapons to defend ourselves," the police commissioner said, glaring daggers into the Republic congregation gathered in front of Reginald's desk.
"Well respectfully I can't trust your men, especially if they have the means of killing or causing severe harm to my brothers," Doom replied, the 2 men staring down the other, muscles twitching over holsters as grips on weapons tightened.
Reginald stepped in before anyone could be quick enough to draw and fire the first shot. "Calm down and hold your horses will you? Commander, if my policemen don't have their equipment then they can't function effectively, the people here, as you have seen, are not the kindest to Republic troopers and I don't think they would respect your rule of law."
Doom exhaled sharply through his nose, his grip on his blaster relaxing only slightly. "Then what do you propose, Governor? Because I can't have your officers walking around with weapons that could turn against my men."
Reginald smirked, though there was no humor in it. "Compromise, Commander. My officers keep their sidearms—no rifles, no heavy weapons. That way, they can still do their jobs without being a threat to your… occupation."
The word hung in the air like a toxic cloud.
Taa shifted uncomfortably, attempting to regain some semblance of authority. "This isn't an occupation, Governor. We are merely ensuring order and stability—"
Reginald's hand slammed onto his desk, making the assembled group flinch, save for Doom. "Spare me the platitudes, Senator. You bring in Republic boots, you disarm my officers, and you expect me to believe this is anything but a hostile takeover?" His piercing gaze swept over the clones, most of whom remained statuesque, though he could see the flicker of uncertainty in some of them.
Doom remained firm, but his eyes were calculating, measuring. "Sidearms only," he finally agreed. "But any sign of rebellion, and they will be confiscated. I won't risk my men's lives."
Commissioner Irane scoffed, stepping forward. "That's rich, coming from a man who follows orders from people who massacre civilians and call it a 'mistake.'"
The air grew heavier. The tension was razor-thin, the kind that could snap at the wrong word.
Taa cleared his throat, clearly eager to end the standoff. "Then it's settled. The Republic will assume temporary administrative oversight of New Kilauea—"
"No," Reginald cut in, his voice cold as steel. "This is still my planet, my government. You may have the bigger guns, but don't think for a second you rule here. You're a guest in my house, and I expect you to act like one."
Doom didn't falter. "Then I suggest, Governor, that you start acting like a host."
The two men stared each other down, neither willing to yield. The room remained on edge, waiting for the inevitable explosion that had yet to come.
It never came to pass.
"We have our deal, don't make a mess of our world and the people won't revolt," Reginald replied as the Republic delegation got up to leave.
Reginald called up to Taa just as the twi'lek was about to leave. "And Senator, do be careful, for the good of whatever relations remain it would be a shame if we had an incident."
The Taa, already tired, scoffed and hobbled away, Doom through his helmet starred daggers at Reginald, daggers which the governor returned.
"You think that was the wisest thing to say?" Irane asked as Reginald shook his head,
"Nothings ever wise these days Commissioner."
Oh how he would eat those words.
Location: Walunga Shrubs Hotel
April 10 2590
Kjin Kassani
Kjin Kassani's heart was beating at around a million miles per hour. The young Mandalorian from House Kassani was familiar with rifles, his father, Wao would often take the young lad out into the forests of Kalevala hunting Rawls with an old Amban, a weapon much more familiar to the Death Watch marksman.
This was compared to the Terran equivalent, the SRS-99 which to Kjin was massive and a lot more chunky than the slim Amban. The round it fired also shared the characteristics of the rifle, large, chunky, and in the deepest parts of the young warrior's mind, downright terrifying.
He loaded the rifle with a satisfying mechanical click, a trademark of all Terran-made weaponry as he deployed the bipod. With a pull of the charging handle, he loaded in the only 14.5x114mm round he placed in the magazine.
It would be the only round he needed.
Kjin Kassani steadied his breathing, his finger resting just outside the trigger guard of the SRS-99 as he peered through the scope. The weight of the Terran-made rifle was unfamiliar in his hands, its bulk pressing against his shoulder in a way that made him uneasy. This weapon was crude by Mandalorian standards—heavy, mechanical, lacking the precision of an Amban—but it served its purpose. The round it fired was devastating. That was all that mattered.
Below, in the center of the plaza, Senator Orn Free Taa stood atop a hastily assembled podium, his corpulent form draped in luxurious robes. He waved his thick fingers dismissively as he addressed the jeering crowd, his voice barely audible over the restless murmur of protestors and the clone troopers struggling to keep order.
Kjin adjusted his aim.
Kjin Kassani exhaled slowly, steadying his grip on the unfamiliar rifle. He was crouched low, perched in a cramped maintenance alcove on the upper floor of the Walunga Shrubs Hotel. The scope of the SRS-99 lined up perfectly with the gaudy, hulking form of Orn Free Taa, the Twi'lek senator standing on a hastily erected stage in the middle of New Kileaua's central plaza. Below, an uneasy crowd of colonists jeered and shouted at him, their frustration barely held in check by the clone troopers forming a defensive perimeter around the stage.
Kjin curled his finger around the trigger, his breathing steady. The Terran rifle was heavier than he liked, clunky and lacking the grace of a proper Mandalorian weapon, but its power was undeniable. He had seen what this weapon could do back in the training cells of the Death Watch. The 14.5x114mm round it fired could punch through plasteel and turn bone to dust.
He adjusted his aim, centering the crosshairs just below Taa's left lekku. The Twi'lek was waving a pudgy blue hand, attempting to calm the crowd with his usual brand of condescending charm. The fools were already on edge—one shot would turn this into an uncontrollable riot. That was the plan.
A gust of wind howled through the plaza. Kjin compensated instinctively.
His heartbeat slowed.
One breath in. One breath out.
He squeezed the trigger.
The rifle bucked against his shoulder with a force that sent a dull ache up his arm. A deafening CRACK split the air, drowning out the shouts of the protestors below. Kjin barely had time to register the result before chaos erupted.
Orn Free Taa's head snapped back violently. A burst of purple mist exploded from the back of his skull, and for a fraction of a second, he remained upright, as if his bloated body hadn't yet registered that his brain was gone. Then, with a sickening slump, he crumpled onto the plaza floor, his lifeless eyes staring blankly at the sky.
Screams followed.
A woman in the crowd shrieked. The protestors panicked, surging backward as the clones raised their rifles, shouting orders no one was listening to. Some fired into the air in a desperate attempt to establish control, but the damage had already been done.
Kjin didn't have time to admire his work. He shoved the rifle under a pile of loose scrap in the alcove and sprinted for the hallway. He was already dressed as a civilian—a simple workman's outfit stolen from a drunk dockhand the night before—but the slightest mistake would get him caught.
A blaring klaxon erupted across the city as he burst through the hotel's emergency stairwell. Heavy boots pounded against duracrete somewhere below—clone troopers sweeping the building. They were fast, but Kjin was faster. He vaulted a railing, landing hard on the floor below before bolting through a side exit.
The back alley was clogged with civilians scattering in panic. Kjin merged into the chaos, keeping his head low as gunships roared overhead. The clones were searching for a Terran assassin. Let them. The rifle would do all the work for him.
Still, he had barely taken five steps when a trooper's voice cut through the madness behind him.
"You! Stop right there!"
Kriff.
Kjin kept moving, slipping between two stalls as he heard boots thudding against the pavement behind him. He fought every instinct to break into a full sprint—that would confirm their suspicions. Instead, he hunched his shoulders and kept his pace quick but controlled.
A heavy hand nearly grabbed his shoulder.
At the last moment, he twisted, shoving into the nearest bystander and sending them toppling into the trooper. It was all the distraction he needed. Kjin ducked into a side street, moving fast.
Blaster fire sizzled past his head.
He darted around a corner just as a gunship spotlight swept across the alley. Too close. Way too close.
Kjin slipped into a maintenance shaft, pressing himself against the wall, heart hammering against his ribs. The troopers stormed past, oblivious.
He waited a full thirty seconds before moving again.
By the time he reached the underground mag-rail tunnels, the whole district was in lockdown. No matter. He had done his job.
The Republic would blame the Terrans. Death Watch would remain in the shadows. And Orn Free Taa…
Well.
He certainly wouldn't be making any more goodwill visits.
Location: New Kilauea, Atakatiki
April 14 2590
CT-8834 'Baton'
The air was thick with tension.
The death of Taa was still fresh in the minds of every one of New Kilauea, tensions were boiling over and to CT-8834, known as Baton to his brothers, this was apparent.
Baton scanned the streets of Atakatiki from the safe haven of the underbelly of an AT-TE, his blaster rifle held tightly in his hands. His helmet's HUD displayed the chaos unfolding in front of him—an endless stream of civilians shouting, throwing debris, and chanting Pro-Terran slang. The crowd was quickly spiraling into a mob, restless and angry. It was clear: they were fed up with the Republic.
Baton's eyes narrowed. There was something else here. A heat, a low hum in the air that wasn't just from the rioters. It was the tension between them—the civilians, the New Kilauea Police, and the clones.
Baton never really cared for politics. Kriff most of the Clones in the GAR really did. But something about this supposedly small planet threw him off.
The AT-TE rumbled against the streets of Atakatiki. CT-8834, Baton, tightened his grip on his DC-15A blaster rifle, his fingers hovering over the trigger guard. The mob that bordered the barrier seemed just one slip of the finger away from turning into a slaughterhouse.
"Captain," one of the clones spoke through the comms, his voice edged with static. "This crowd's about to blow."
CT-3113, Captain Ace, was perched at the front of the transport, scanning the scene from beneath the T-visor of his helmet. "Then let's not be the spark that sets it off," he said coolly. "Hold position. We move only if the police give the order."
"The hell do you think they can do? All they have are dingy pistols," one of his brothers, 'Breaker' replied, causing the few police officers to give the clone a stink-eye and a few crossed their arms in annoyance.
Baton barely acknowledged the words, his focus locked on the civilians. They weren't Separatists, at least not openly. They were just angry. Disillusioned. Sick of the Republic. And yet, the air had that familiar charge—like the moments before an explosion.
He flicked his comms over to his squad's private channel. "Anyone else got a bad feeling about this?"
"Like Kaminoans with smiles," muttered Flicker, the sharpshooter's head on a pivot, "Something's off."
Then, it happened.
A deafening BOOM split the air.
The world blurred—shockwave slamming into Baton's chestplate, ringing in his ears. Smoke and fire erupted from the barricade ahead, sending bodies flying—civilians, officers, and clones alike. His HUD screamed with damage reports and overlapping comms chatter.
"AMBUSH!"
Baton pivoted as another shot rang out, this time hitting one of the police officers square in the chest. The man crumpled, and all hell broke loose.
"Contact!" Captain Ace roared. "Weapons free—take cover!"
Baton dropped low behind the transport as the riot exploded into a battlefield. Red blaster bolts lanced through the air, hitting both clones and police officers alike. The enemy wasn't the rioters anymore. It was something else—someone else.
A speeder truck in the distance bucked as an explosion ripped through it, sending bodies and shrapnel into the air. From the smoke, masked figures emerged, blasters raised.
"They're armed—definitely not civilians!" shouted CT-7215 'Mack,' the squad's heavy gunner as he setup his DC-15A, pulling the trigger and spraying a spread of bolts.
Baton squeezed the trigger, dropping one of the masked fighters before rolling behind a police barricade. Next to him, a police officer bled out, clutching his stomach. The man reached for him. Baton hesitated.
"Please…" the man muttered. Baton finally acted, closing in on the Terran officer reaching out his hand and…
BANG!
The man's head exploded as Baton fell onto his back. He looked at his hand as he heard his own laboured breathing as crimson dripped from his fingers.
Another explosion rocked the street. Baton ignored the officer and pushed forward, sweeping his blaster fire across the alleyways where the enemy was entrenched. Police and clones were falling alike.
"Fall back to the walker!" Ace barked. "We're getting slaughtered out here!"
Baton barely made it two steps when the ground beneath him vanished.
The explosion was instant. His HUD flashed red warnings, his armor plates screamed as they cracked and burned. The force of the blast threw him like a ragdoll, his body colliding with the duracrete in a broken heap.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
Another loud bang came from the alley, but this time it wasn't from a blaster. A high-pitched whistle filled the air—a moment of terror before the ground beneath Baton exploded in a cloud of dirt and metal.
The world went dark.
Baton's helmet display flashed "SYSTEM FAILURE" in red as the blast knocked him off his feet.
He couldn't hear anything over the ringing in his ears, but he felt the heat of the explosion on his face, his body shaken from the force. The next thing he knew, the world was spinning. His hands were covered in blood—his own, but he couldn't remember how it got there.
Through his blurry vision, he saw shadows—his brothers rushing to his side. Breaker's voice was muffled, distant. "Baton! Stay with me you scruff herder! Don't go out like this!"
But Baton couldn't respond. His breath came in ragged gasps, and his vision faded further. The last thing he remembered was the sound of more explosions, of blaster fire.
And then, nothing but darkness.
A/N: Whoa Whoa Whoa, hold on? This isn't a month later?
Yeah well, I had this chapter simmering in the background (also it's shorter) when I was writing Intelligence Committee so naturally, I finished it way before.
Ch.7 Escalation is about 10-20% finished once I post this, should be another 2 weeks? I need to plan out the politics a bit. I promise it'll be a lot longer than this.
Anyways I hope you enjoyed it. :)