The Force Wills - Chapter 170 (Patreon)

The Merr-Sonn SG2 blaster rifle was like an old friend and Sadiveet Kaith had never thought he would ever need or have cause to use it again.

Yet here he was, sitting with his back against heavy durasteel cover that had been hastily welded together in the Hephill grav lev tunnel, reflexively flicking the safety button on and off. He shifted awkwardly in the mismatched but functional combat rig; a reinforced corporate security breastplate over heavy winter gear, with clone trooper pauldrons and a breath mask hanging around his neck.

He critically examined his assigned squad of eight muuns who were all in similar combat rigs, along with some clone DC15 rifles, hastily modified by local blastertechs to actually fit in a muun’s long fingered hand. He had given some thought to also using the DCs when it was offered, but decided against it. He knew his old SG2 and it had more than enough power to compete against droid armor - he had even used it against an IG model assassin droid in the past.

His eyes caught those of one of the eight and he once more wrestled with the illogical yet logical urge to rip away his twin’s weapon and send her packing straight back to the bunker.

Laett rolled her eyes, knowing exactly what he was thinking. She pointedly worked the charge handle of her DC15 and gave him a mild glare.

Logically, he knew she had every right to be there. She had done six years in IGBC security compared to his eight. Both of them had been groomed for careers in the banking clan from childhood. His talent evals had brought him to the Security division, where he received small-unit tactics, blaster proficiency, and counter-intruder training. Laett, not one to let her twin go, stubbornly managed to follow him into Security. However, he left the security division eight years ago for a much higher-paying position as a Senior Risk Analyst in the Main Vault’s Collateral Assessment Department.

It was a move that brought prestige and wealth, but he silently regretted losing the sense of tangible purpose he felt while protecting the bank physically.

She also eventually moved on, into the Liquidity Management division.

Life had continued quietly for them both in the purity of numbers and flowing wealth. Even when the war had erupted just under three years ago, the days hardly seemed different to an outside observer. Sadiveet and Laett, both had known something was wrong in the months after. The speed of money flow, the amounts moving, to where and when. To any muun with the most minor of talent, it was clear that the war was causing wealth to move in a way that hadn’t been seen in living memory.

Then the fateful day of the Republic invasion and not a day later, the call to defend against the Separatist invasion.

Sadiveet didn’t consider himself a Separatist, despite the official position of the muun government, pulling their home planet and people into the nascent CIS. They had grown up on Scipio, Aureus City and this planet was their home.

Then Commander Tano did the almost unthinkable, and released the files of the Core 5 corruption to the local holonet. It lit a furious, very illogical fire in his mind, in Laett’s and the majority of the scipian muuns. Which had nearly gotten very out of hand, as the GAR was forced to take Clu Lesser into protective custody, after a number of assassination attempts on the bedridden former Core 5 member.

He carefully went through a mental fortification exercise, breathing deep and regulating his body to prepare for the upcoming stresses and rigors.

“Why don’t we just blast the tunnels off?”

Sadiveet resisted the urge to glare at the clone trooper squad that was sharing their cover.

The clone sergeant, a gruff veteran who called himself Huck, smacked the helmet of his rather idiotic subordinate. “Because Ench, we want to give this city back to the scipians in one piece. You saw what happened at the main door, now just imagine the mess of internal weather five big holes will make.”

“That’s a brilliant return on investment. I wonder if they grew that idea in a defective cloning vat?” Laett muttered bitingly under her breath in the scipian dialect of Muun.

Sadiveet picked up the minor twitches among his squad, in the corners of their mouths, the slightest tightening of their eyelids. Tells that any other species would’ve missed entirely. To a muun, however, they might as well have been on their back and laughing their lungs out.

“Not now Laett,” he muttered, letting his tone and the twitch of his jaw muscles convey his disapproval. “Basic only.”

Her eyes cheekily laughed in his face.

He put her antics out of mind and considered the battlefield before them.

The grav lev tunnel was 9.75 meters wide as it left the Aureus City station, a perfect cylindrical shape, reinforced bulkheads, repulsor integrated shock dampeners and lighting that most species would consider too bright.

It spanned outward ahead of their position for 600 meters before the tunnel bent to avoid having to dig through the neighboring Plossant mountain.

Their mixed squad of clones and muun were the second position on the left side, whilst only clones manned the frontline positions.

Two 3.25m grav track lines separated them from the right side of the tunnel, where Repeaters had been set up.

Behind them, were ten more defensive positions, all leading to the train station, turbolifts and ramps that could bring hundreds of people into the belly of Aureus City within minutes.

Never had this scenario been envisaged by IGBC Security, not in centuries, and he had checked all the way back in the database to before the Ruusan Reformation. The closest was an infiltrator using the grav lev tunnels to pass into the city and dozens of security sensors in the tunnels prevented it.

The coming of the CIS droids in this fashion was like an anomalous transaction in a ledger matrix.

“Commander Tano to all tunnel defense sectors and commands. Sensors have detected the enemy formations. At the current pace, they will reach the outer defense line in 20 minutes. Repeat, 20 minutes.”

Sadiveet stared at his… fellow soldiers, clone and muun, all of them looking at him for leadership.   

“You heard the commander, final checks, then take positions.”

The entire tunnel burst into a frenzied set of calculated movement, from both muun and clone.

If there was one thing he couldn’t find fault in the clones of the Grand Army, then it was their discipline, temperament and economy of movement.

With his helmet donned, mask secured, he knelt behind his cover, resting his SG2 on the dedicated cut out on the cover’s edge.

The clones needed spent munition containers under their feet or knees to actually reach over the cover. The one concession the GAR had no choice but to make for their very tall new troops.

Laett was right next to him, resting her DC15 rifle, tucking it into her shoulder and sighting down it.

She was a tall, rail-thin muun with the characteristic elongated head and pale, near-porcelain skin of his species. A build he shared with her except for the widened, stronger shoulders of a male.

He debated one last time whether he should just switch his weapon to stun, shoot her and get her away from this madness. The imperative coming from the instinctual biological notion that females should not be in combat. He dismissed it quickly, his intellect and logical reasoning that whether they fought and died here or in the city above, at least down here it would have the most potential impact.

Even a child could do the statistical analysis on the odds they faced.

“Sadi,” she whispered, her voice tuned to only reach his ear.

“Yes, Laet?” he sighed, that infernal illogical nickname from their childhood would never leave him, keeping his eyes glued to the distant bend in the tunnel.

“Love you.”

He felt his body and emotions react, slipping away from his control briefly. “As do I, sister.”

The first evidence of the approaching enemy was the rhythmic thumping of countless metallic footsteps, rippling through the very structure of the tracks and echoing in the relatively confined space of the tunnel.

If this was already happening with the enemy 14 minutes away, there had to be an entire regiment of droids marching in lockstep. A regiment down each of the five tunnels meant 11 320 battle droids were now bearing down on Aureus City and that could just be the first wave.

He calmed his heart that was threatening to race out of control.

His focus narrowed down to only his squad and their logistics.

It narrowed further to his weapon’s aim and the sight picture beyond the barrel.

“Tano to all sectors, contact in 5 minutes.”

“All right, dampeners on,” he ordered his squad.

Sadiveet tapped his helmet’s sonic dampeners, the deafening din of marching metallic feet on the durasteel floor of the tunnel washed out, but left enough throughput that he could still retain some audio awareness of his surroundings and listen to orders coming through the C3 net.

Then, down the tunnel… movement…

“Hephill tunnel, enemy contact.” reported Commander Cyrtt.

“Caimih tunnel, contact.”

“Teird, contact.”

“Shellah, contact.”

“Covo, contact.”

“The first wave is a mixture of B1s and B2s interspersed.”

Sadiveet quickly attached the scope module of his rifle and zoomed in. He’d never seen the droid models mixed in such a formation, one row of B1s, a row of B2s, then repeated. The utility was obvious, the B2s already had their gun arms locked in firing position over the shoulder of the smaller B1, both lines would fire together.

Then came the call, “Tano to Snipers, fire as they bear!”

In armored perches near the station platform, the twenty waiting snipers confirmed their targets, onboard scopes automatically differentiating so there was no fire overlap and pulled the trigger.

Heavy blue bolts streaked down the tunnel and slammed home into B1 chests and B2’s left shoulders.

He saw the former falling instantly, whilst the latter received rapid double-tap shots before collapsing.

It exposed the next line of droids, whilst the survivors marched onward with ominous inevitability.

The heavy electric screams of the DC15X snipers kept thundering as the clone marksmen paused between shots to let the barrel cool and adjust aim.

In just two minutes, every sniper in the 96th doubled their individual kill counts.

Yet the enemy had no morale to destroy, it was a tide of programmed metal that was marching onward and the snipers were barely achieving anything to slow it down. Any fallen droids were dispassionately pushed to the side by the much stronger B2s or if it was B1s, simply crushed underfoot.

He watched through his scope as the enemy passed the 400 meter mark.

A hidden sensor was tripped and six clusters of droid poppers used as mines detonated.

The tunnel lighting in that area flickered and died as the concentrated EM blast also ionized the air, blue sparks grounded from the droid’s chassis in a brilliant display.

In the confined space, 31 droids began twitching violently before falling forward in death.

The first notable pause in the marching tide of metal occurred now, as the B2s now had to really work to clear a route, even as they were getting gunned down by sniper fire.

Such was the droid attrition, that it took the enemy seventeen minutes to achieve a meaningful path to resume the march with any reasonable speed. He could even see that both B1 and B2s were now getting ordered to become ‘cleaners’ instead of battle droids, their sole function to clear out the wreckage of dead droids, moving it back down the tunnel.

Then the enemy crossed the 300 meter mark.

Another set of cluster mines detonated.

In an instant, Sadiveet saw 61 droids collapse into becoming wreckage.

It was time.

He clicked his comlink to his squad, “Open fire!”

His blaster fired its purple bolt and joined in the storm of blue and red from dozens of rifles and Repeaters that surged down the tunnel and into the marching tide.

The droids returned fire, a sea of orange tibanna blasts returning in the other direction.

Sadiveet and almost everyone had to completely duck behind cover as what was effectively a horizontal rain of deadly blaster fire streamed overhead.

There was little to no use in aiming for a specific target.

He simply kept his blaster in the lip of his cover, kept the barrel level and pulled on the trigger.

The hissing and sparking of plasma blasts whined against the thick durasteel cover plating. He could only attribute it to superior intellectual foresight and experience that Commander Tano had ordered such a cover to be constructed with double plating, a sandwich of armor grade durasteel and raw rock taken from the mountain.

Anything less would’ve seen their cover withered away in moments!

In this crucible of fire, the inevitable happened a few moments later.

“AH! Kriff!” he heard over the comlink.

His head twitched in alarm to the side, only to see one of the clones pull back a thoroughly ruined rifle, which had suffered a direct hit on the barrel.

The DC15 was smoking rapidly in an alarming fashion, the trooper frantically tried to pull out the tibanna cartridge, but found it stuck.

“THROW IT!”

The trooper heaved the malfunctioning weapon overhead in the direction of the enemy with a scream of exertion, careful to keep himself in the safety of cover.

They couldn’t hear the explosion, but the muffled thump and overpressure that washed over them a few moments later made him very grateful that the trooper had kept his wits. The trooper in question pulled out a side arm, returned to his spot and kept shooting.

The fight continued and eventually Sadiveet’s tibanna clip ran dry.

He pulled his weapon back with mild astonishment…

Had it been 200 shots already?

He reviewed his memory and shot count, confirming the answer. The SG2 rifle’s barrel was mildly smoking all along its length and he decided to let it cool for a further 90 seconds before trying anything with it.

He pulled out his trusty DD6 blaster pistol from its hipholster and resumed firing.

“Sergeant Huck!” Sadiveet roared towards the clone over the cacophony of battle.

The clone pulled back and rushed over, “Sir?!”

“We’re losing situational awareness! Scan for the enemy position!”

The clone nodded, pulling a scanner from his utility belt and tapping the keys. “It seems the enemy’s been mostly halted at the 190 meter mark! Difficult to be exact in this mess!”

The roaring thump of an explosion and echoing overpressure rumbled through the tunnel.

“B2-HA! B2-HA!” came the roared warning over the com net.

“Hephill tunnel, we just lost the forward line and Repeaters 1 and 3.”

Similar casualty reports came from all the tunnels.

“Tano to all commands, you are cleared for popper use at your own discretion.”

Every DC15 with an underslung grenade launcher began firing down the tunnel.

It had happened so quickly, that Sadiveet only now comprehended that the B2-HA was the variant that had a cannon arm that could fire homing rockets. That the enemy would risk doing so in the tunnel showed that the ST droid in charge had either made the calculation or the rockets themselves were low enough yield to not meaningfully endanger the tunnel structure.

He rushed back to his now cooled rifle and began reloading, only for everything to be plunged into pitch darkness.

“Night vision!”

He slapped the control on his vambrace and the world returned in a purple hue of NV gear that were tuned to muun eyes.

A few moments of calm reloading procedure later, his weapon was back in place and firing.

His world was rapidly narrowing, boiling down to just shooting and keeping an eye on his squad’s ammo and charge levels.

When the first ammo resupply came from the rear line and medics, behind two riot trooper shields, it was almost a surprise.

“Anyone hurt or injured!?” screamed the medic.

“NO!”

The trooper dumped a crate of droid poppers and they hastily retreated back.

“Take turns to restock!” he ordered.

They’d barely filled up on the grenades and it felt like mere moments later they’d already been expended.

“Enemy is at 120 meters!”

He pulled his rifle back for another cooling and reload cycle, with only six of the more expensive, refined tibanna magazines, there would come a time when he’d have no choice but to reload with blue tibanna.

“ROCKET DROIDS!”

Sadiveet had just enough time to look to his right, seeing the improbable sight of the flying version of the B2 battle droid going right past their cover.

He felt a burning wrenching sensation, the world spun, his night vision flickering.

A hard impact and his breath was gone.

He felt pain.

And welcomed only a deep unthinking oblivion.

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It was called the Gomar Chope Medical Center, the largest in Aureus and one of eight major hospitals that served the city, including a dozen smaller clinics that catered to specialist areas of medicine or health care.

Nine hours into the siege and already the hospital’s spare beds had been filled with injured volunteers and clones.

Nine hours of constant grinding attrition on both sides, until the tide of droids had finally stopped.

The line had barely held in the other tunnels and we had lost Caimih station entirely. The enemy now had their clean route into the city, forcing me to create a new defense perimeter around that station.

The only reason we had received this reprieve was simply because the CIS airlift capacity had been strained to the breaking point to deliver the amount of droids we had fought. We had monitored a number of landing craft crashing due to what probably were malfunctions, overuse or just lack of maintenance. Those C9979s had been put through dozens of atmo entry interfaces as they went up and down to deliver battle droids to the five connected arcologies… the operational tempo was insane.

The tunnels had also reached a point where in the case of Hephill and Shellah, the wreckage of dead droids had piled so high and so quickly during the battle, that at one point even the B2s were unable to shift the sheer combined mass. Sensors also indicated that both tunnels were struggling with the load that it was putting on them.

It was so bad, that just the weight of a single company of B1s would probably result in the tunnel tearing itself apart, since most of the cylindrical tunnel in that area was mounted on pillars anchored into the mountainside.

Thankfully, the opposing ST had also seen the problem as well, quickly ordering a retreat of all units out of both tunnels.

I pulled my mind away from worrying about the next attack and regarded the bustle of nurses, medtechs and doctors scrambling from room to room in the main casualty ward ahead of me.

The lights felt too bright, glinting off rows of biobeds in each room. The air recyclers struggled to filter out the sharp scent of bacta, blood, and burnt plastoid. If this was what it was like in just nine hours, with the hospital looking like its own type of battlefield, what would another two days be like, then possibly more while Anakin fought his way here.

This is my command. These beings are here because I asked them to stand.

My montrals picked up every moan of pain, the slick sound of hands both organic and droid working in guts and organs, repairing or where needed, removing entirely. I passed a muun missing most of his right leg, his skin even paler than normal, just staring blankly up into the ceiling from his biobed, which had been shifted into the hallway due to space constraints.

It felt like my hand moved of its own volition as I laid it on his shoulder.

A whole line of fractured ribs on his left side, bound with a large bacta patch, treated systemic shock, a settling concussion - which was serious business in a muun - and a potentially fatal internal injury in their kidney equivalent which had escaped notice.

It was the work of a few minutes of concentration with the Force to correct.

“Excuse me.”

The voice behind me was angry, annoyed, indignant and fiercely protective all at once.

I turned around and regarded a male iktotchi dressed in a white medical isolation suit, ripping off bloody exterior gloves and chucking it in a nearby hazard disposal bin. On his left chest, written in muun and aurubesh script; ‘Dr Simru Miinin’. Rather interestingly, the two curved horns protruding downward from his head were almost charcoal black, whilst the skin tone was a light peach in contrast - a rare combination from the usual tan and ivory horns the species usually had.

“I’d ask you to please unhand my patient, Commander Tano.”

It was tempting to pointedly reveal what he had missed in the treatment of the muun, but that was ego speaking and a waste of time.

I lifted my hand and stepped away, “You are in charge of this ward?”

“I’m one of four doctors in charge of the emergency medicine here in GCMC,” he declared wearily, staring at me as if he was bracing for bad news. “How can I help you?”

“You can firstly relax, Doctor Miinin. I'm here to see if things are working smoothly with the clone medics I’ve assigned to the hospitals and how your supply situation is holding up.”

He huffed wearily and perched his hands on his hips, and gave me a mild glare. “They’re adequate and I always welcome extra competent hands into my ward.”

“Coming through!”

We had to dodge to the side to make way for a biobed which held a critically injured clone trooper being pushed by two medics, with a medtech and a muun doctor rushing behind. The clones thankfully didn’t acknowledge my presence beyond a nod of respect; rank generally went out the door in a hospital when lives were on the line.

Miinin started pulling on a fresh set of gloves from a pouch on his hip, “As for supplies, we’ve already burned through a few weeks’ worth of bacta and other medical consumables. Hospitals in Aureus were planned with many disaster scenarios in mind, but handling a siege was not really one of them. GCMC was already at 60% capacity before all this. We’re the premier medical facility on Scipio and everyone wants to come here for any health related problem or operation. As you can see, we have the biobeds, but not the rooms.”

“So you’ve already used all the bacta I transferred from my ship?” I asked grimly.

“Yes. At this rate, we’ve got enough for another nine days. That will change, however, when more fighting erupts. I’m not worried about bacta though…”

“There’s not enough doctors or med droids for surgeries,” I nodded in understanding.

He stared at me with mild surprise, “Correct, commander. I’ve already begun calling in retired colleagues and activating every spare med droid we have that won’t bungle a surgery, but we’re going to be reaching triage conditions very soon.”

I’d happily trade the Darksaber for a dozen Republic MSUs at the moment.

I twisted my helmet off and met Miinin’s eyes fiercely, “Tell me Doctor, is there anything that you wish you could do that would improve the situation?” It was a question that had just come from nowhere, maybe desperation, maybe out of frustration that I couldn’t afford to spend all my energy healing here.

He blinked with astonishment at the question, but kept his wits, “Well, besides waving my hand to end this kriffing war entirely, I wish I could activate every 2-1B med droid currently sitting in a box in the IA warehouse in the south of the city.”

My back stiffened and hot anger raced up and down my being for a moment, which I quickly had to let go of, “Excuse me, Doctor. Just to confirm, are you telling me that the local office of Industrial Automation has an entire warehouse of 2-1Bs gathering dust?”

“Correct.”

“And that they withheld them when I made a general call to every local corporation to contribute to the defense of the city?”

The iktotchi doctor’s black eyes glinted with fierce anger, “Yes. I know this because I had to go there a week before the invasion to formalize a new supply contract. That warehouse is IA’s local sector hub.”

I pulled on my helmet and twisted it to seal, “Consider your wish granted, doctor. I’ll let you get back to it.”

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Barely forty minutes later, I had rallied Xesh Company of the 96th and began commandeering and slicing into every abandoned speeder in the streets that had any sort of cargo capacity.

Fifteen minutes after that, a small fleet of cargo and family speeders approached the Industrial Automation Hub warehouse.

Since this was Aureus City, it didn’t look at all like any typical warehouse that you’d find on any planet in this galaxy. Far from boxy and industrial, the building was an architecturally complex 400 meter long and 100 meter high angular artwork that was laid on its side, with smart transparisteel skin that was currently set to a silvery opaque that reflected the city’s night lighting with a mirror sheen.

I landed my own commandeered speeder at the building’s public parking, which was mostly empty, with the rest of the troopers landing a moment behind me.

After a hop out of the driver’s seat, my feet landed on the duracrete of the lot and with every step I made towards the front entrance, I was fighting a renewed battle with my anger.

Only when I had settled my mood into some form of equilibrium, did I look behind me at the troopers of Xesh company.

I could feel the outrage and cold fury pulse from their spirits, which washed over me like a chilly ocean wave crashing against the sand. All of them were armed with DC15 carbines, slung around their shoulders.

We approached the main entrance and I tapped the keypad there to chime for entry. I wanted to at least say that I had tried to be polite about it.

After waiting for 30 seconds and no reply from inside, I tapped the chime again.

I could feel there were seven sentients inside - 4 muun and three humans, who were rapidly growing worried. One of the humans was already speaking frantically into his comlink.

“There’s an entire clone army outside, Mr Corgenno! I think they’re coming to take our stock!”

The small full body holo of a man wearing an elaborate suit and intricate over-robe in high class Coruscanti fashion was hovering over the comlink in the manager’s hand.

“You keep that building secure, Gavar. Do whatever you have to, understand?”

I knew immediately that Corgenno was actually within Aureus City, since the interstellar comms blackout was still in effect. To be more precise I’d need to get my hands on Mr. Gavar’s comlink.

“Sir, the security system could potentially kill them! And Commander Tano is here with them!” Gavar objected.

“They are attempting to steal IA property! I don’t care who or what authority is behind them - theft is theft! Now do as I say or should I fire you and see if your deputy will carry out my orders?!”

“N-no, sir.”

My hand made two quick signals to the troopers.

In a moment, their carbine’s were in hand and raised.

They fanned out and stacked on either side of the main door, whilst two squads split off to cover the two rear auxiliary cargo exits.

The four turrets that popped out of hidden panels in the transparisteel building skin nearby didn’t even get a chance to properly emerge as I used the Force to crush and bend the barrels.

The seven turrets that popped out of the parking lot walkways died to pinpoint rapid fire from the alerted troopers.

I heard and felt the other squads firing at the danger, then the spike of burning pain as some of them were wounded in the process.

Ahead of me, the transparisteel door began to rumble and shake as my will delved into its structure, rapidly pushing and pulling, trying to find the resonance of the material.

A few seconds later I raised my hand and closed it into a fist.

The entire door shattered with a loud thump and hundreds of sharp fragments clattered to the floor.

My lightsabers ignited and spun in front of me, deflecting the rapid fire of two turrets that had dropped from the ceiling.

My troopers poured in and quick accurate shots reduced the turrets to molten scrap.

From there, we advanced through a side security door after my lightsabers reduced it to glowing chunks.

The corridor beyond had yet more turrets, which I purposefully drew the fire of, letting my troopers do the shooting. How IA had gotten the entire lethal security setup in what was supposed to be a neutral zone, was quite obvious. Yet, my mind was rather busy dealing with the outrage against Mr. Corgenno.

Even my clone troopers, who had being cool under lethal pressure written into their DNA and were trained to detach emotions, were moving and shooting the security turrets with a keen ferocity.

In under three minutes, we were stacking up outside the doors to the main office, where I sensed the seven IA employees cowering behind a big desk in fear. They had watched our advance through security cams and had rather wisely not armed themselves.

The Darksaber slashed multiple times through the ornate wooden door, cutting through localized motivators and maglocks.

A little push sent the entire thing tipping over to land on the floor with a heavy thump.

“STOP! Please, don’t shoot! We surrender!” shouted Gavar, rather bravely raising his hands and standing from behind the desk.

The IA local manager was a man barely taller than me, with short stylish brown hair and a pale, freckled, frightened face, soaking in sweat. His tunic was rumpled with its sleeves pulled up and knotted around his elbows, whilst his blue eyes regarded me with a raw naked fear. 

Three paths opened before me in prescience.

My Dark Side wanted me to bodily lift this office drone with the Force, play with his throat a bit to put even more fear into him. This fool, whose cowardice had already caused injury to my troops. Who was forcing me to waste time here, whilst I could be better preparing the city defenses. It wanted me to give in to my anger at the defeat I had suffered. It wanted to feast on my frustration, despair and helplessness within the frakking game that Sidious had arranged for me. The battle of Scipio was his machination to gain control of galactic finance, I was just a player on his stage, manipulating me and I didn’t dare show awareness that I knew I was an actor.

What was worse, knowing the manipulation, the farce that Sidious was playing the entire galaxy… it was making me resent… everyone.

Everyone who had the wool pulled over their eyes, who let their weaknesses triumph. The politicians who played their greedy games, but played right into Sidious’ hand.

How many times had this conflict between Jedi and Sith played out? How many more times was necessary?

After putting Gavar in his place, I would find Corgenno. I’d convene a wartime court martial, including the two CIS senators I’d arrested, just to observe the formalities - then have them put in front of a firing squad.

The second path.

Be a good little Jedi. Suck it up. Let these IA fools go to suffer whatever their fates might be in the siege. Take the 2-1Bs. Fight the battle to come.

The third path.

I took a deep subtle breath through my nose, and stepped back mentally - a technique taught to me by Bendu himself.

Sidious had not been given that name by Darth Plagueis for nothing. The invisible hand of my enemy, so insidious that even with prescience, I had nearly walked straight into it by indulging in my own weakness like the hypocrite I was at the moment.

Two of my lightsabers shut down and floated to my belt, I gestured with the Darksaber straight to Gavar’s face.

My voice was infused with the Force without even thinking about it, “Shut down the security, now.”

He blinked in a mild daze, “I’ll shut it down.”

A few button taps and a code on his comlink.

I heard the distant whines of plasma bolts firing suddenly cease.

“All of you… stand.”

The muun and humans looked at each other nervously, before obeying.

“You could’ve just… answered the door. I would’ve explained the situation, the wartime necessity of what is stored in your warehouse. You would’ve obtained a writ of compensation from the GAR and Republic. We would even have returned the med droids after the siege was over. Everyone, even Corgenno, would’ve been happy with the profit he’d have made. But no… he only saw and acted on his short-sighted greed and you only saw the easy path.”

Even as I said that, I recognized that the words could’ve just as easily applied to myself.

“You will gather all the authorizations that will activate every 2-1B droid in this warehouse and anything else they may need to function. My troops and I will be watching your every move. You will help us load the droids into our speeders. If this is achieved without a single problem or any form of sabotage after the fact - and I will have medtechs check - then I will drop the charges of assault and injury on GAR personnel. Be extremely grateful that none of my troops were killed.”

My presence in the Force, the pressure on their minds and spirits was such that two of the employees soiled themselves in fear and awe. In their minds I stood larger than life, with a huge black and white ethereal blade of power, clad in glinting robed armor - as if I was some supernatural avenger.

“Yes, yes… we will. No funny business… th-thank you, c-c-commander,” Gavar gasped.

“Now get moving! Lieutenant Zeegee,” I turned to the clone leader of Xesh Company.

“Yes, ma’am!”

“Escort these gentlebeings and make sure my orders are followed to the letter.”

“At once, Commander.”

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It was in the thirteenth hour of the siege when the underhanded tactics began.

A single broad Force Pull, and all eight BX droids were jerked abruptly through the air helplessly.

Their vibroblades, blasters and explosives flew right past me, whilst the droids themselves landed into a clattering pile just before my feet.

All three lightsabers began slashing once, twice and a final third time, reducing the commando droids into glowing debris.

“One infiltrator team down, sector 3A north-east,” I reported into the comlink.

Commander Cyrrt was quick to respond, “Understood ma’am. That makes four incursions within the last hour. All targeting the city’s maintenance and auxiliary airlocks.”

I wanted nothing more at the moment than to find a bed and pass out. 

Dooku wasn’t giving me that luxury.

“What’s the status on enemy carrier transports?”

“We’ve detected two more operational that were previously marked as down, commander. That makes nine active at the moment that are delivering droids to the surface.”

I bent my knees and surged into the dark arcology sky with jet boots, angling straight towards the city’s central power station in the south-east.

“Commander, emergency at the fusion core!”

Sure enough, everything had been a diversion. I could only hope my contingencies had panned out.

When the massive building came into view, there was already a firefight in progress.

Two squads of BX commandos were fighting the guard garrison, on the very long girder walkway that was the only convenient way into the fusion plant building. The whole thing had been almost designed like an ancient castle, except the mote was a crazy long drop into plasma power channels that radiated outward and delivered electricity to the rest of the city.

The walkway itself could be retracted, but it was clear that the BX droids had sliced locally into the controls to extend it.

As I flew overhead, I debated whether to express a bit of my frustration and anger or to be as efficient as possible.

Time was being used as a weapon against me, so the answer was obvious.

My WESTAR and the Darksaber flew into my hands.

I did a fair imitation of a fighter on a strafing run.

Bolt after bolt was sent streaking downward, catching the BX droids completely flatfooted, as high power shots hit them in the back, punching through the armor and slagging internal circuitry.

My propulsion was cut off at just the right moment, I flipped into a somersault and landed smoothly on the walkway, sending the Darksaber spinning horizontally in a white-void black blur of plasmatic death.

It cut through four droids, before catching two more as it began surging back to my right hand.

I blurred forward with Force Speed, my WESTAR firing left then sweeping right.

‘All targets locked on,’ reported M8.

The Whistling Bird on my left vambrace fired.

Smart munitions sang through the air and caught BX’s straight into the small red secondary sensor on their left chest - the shaped charges detonated on contact, sending jets of molten tungsten-copper alloy straight in. The penetrators lost enough energy to not exit out the back armor, but instead began bouncing in the droid’s chest cavities.

I caught the Darksaber and watched as eight commando droids collapsed, whilst the rest fell into two pieces - cut just underneath their arm joints; wrecking processors and power cells simultaneously.

The clone sergeant in charge of the defense garrison approached, raising his rifle. “Thank you, commander.”

“Nice job holding them off, Sgt. Brur.”

“Could’ve been much worse, those slicers you stationed inside saved the day, ma’am. Prevented the commando droids from gaining control initially, bought just enough time.”

“Any casualties?”

“Yes ma’am. Two dead, four injured. I’ve already called for medevac.”

I abruptly shifted my head to the side, avoiding the bolt from a BX droid sniping from a rooftop 700 meters away. It continued on and splashed harmlessly into the durasteel wall of the reactor building.

The second shot went right for Brur’s chest, but I deflected it with the Darksaber.

“COVER!”

The commando’s third shot tried to catch a muun volunteer in the back, but my second lit lightsaber was already flying through the air and intercepted that one.

With all three blades hovering in the air, I made relatively easy work of the next four shots trying to snipe at my troopers as they sprinted or ducked into the prepared cover.

My telekinesis grabbed a PLX missile launcher resting behind nearby cover, maneuvered it into aiming at the building in question; Mechu-deru did the rest.

The guided missile leaped instantly into the air from the launcher and streaked away with a bright white contrail.

Two and a half seconds later, a distant thump and explosion rendered the droid commando into debris that rained down from above.

“It was all a karking trap for you, commander,” Brur commented with astonishment.

“A mild attempt,” I sighed wearily, guiding the launcher back to its place, where a trooper already got busy reloading it. “Oh and don’t touch the dead droids, they’re booby trapped with secondary explosives. Get Demo squad down here to clear them.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

My HUD flared with another emergency signal.

“On my way,” I muttered with gritted teeth and took off into the sky.

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The park was stunning and Padme should’ve guessed that she’d find Ahsoka here, instead of relying on her neophyte ability in the Force to physically follow the Bond to a location.

It was engineered greenery, with all manner of flowers, trees and shrubbery, artfully planted and grown. The colors, mundane and exotic, almost seemed painted on. They softly glowed in the artificial starlight and moonlight projected from the distant arcology ceiling. It couldn’t compare to Naboo, but she had to give the landscape engineers credit for creating a seemingly natural space that could mostly fool the senses. The delicate tinkle of a flowing stream pushed on her ears with a pleasant harmony and in the near distance the din of a short waterfall grew louder as her feet carried her along with the subtle guidance of the Force.

She was startled when suddenly Ahsoka-

No, it was M8 in full control of Ahsoka’s armor, standing empty but in full vigilance near her mistress.

Padme was mildly startled to see that the undersuit was laying discarded nearby.

She gave a nod to M8 and walked past the droid, only to see that the target of her worry was down to her underwear. Simply standing next to the stream, her bare feet rocking back and forth on the perfect, soft grass.

Ahsoka’s face was turned upward, eyes closed.

For all the vitality, strength and energy that Padme’s mundane eyes could see in the muscular curves of the togruta’s back, buttocks and legs - the sense that Ahsoka was badly worn down could not be dismissed.

Ahsoka breathed in with a hiss through the nose, letting it out slowly through her mouth and Padme recognized and felt the Matukai technique of endurance - performed on a level that put her own best efforts to shame. The togruta also grew a mild smile of content in the corner of her mouth.

“Padme.”

“You’ve been awake for more than a day now, Ahsoka.”

“Yes, and it’s not ideal or healthy, relying on the Force to stave it off. I’ve also managed to engineer some circadian effects that come from sleeping through Control.”

Padme stepped closer, sensing that the young togruta wouldn’t mind it, “It’s not a substitute.” 

“No, it’s not,” Ahsoka admitted, letting her shoulders droop somewhat in the first sign of weariness, as if she was carrying the entire city on her back.

“Can you take at least two hours?”

“Dooku is sending infiltrators every 48 minutes and it’s already been 22 minutes since the last one. We can’t defend every maintenance access point or we defend nothing. He’s grinding us all down and some of the tactics…”

Padme took a final step and placed a hand on Ahsoka’s left shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“They feel very familiar. There’s a signature or style to them that means we’re also dealing with an enemy I fought on Onderon, General Kalani. If that’s the case, then the next few days are going to get much worse.”

“General Kalani… the ST droid?”

“Yes. Back for revenge due to the defeats I handed him, and so he has defeated me in turn.”

Padme shook her head, “You didn’t lose, Ahsoka. The city is still standing.”

“It might seem that way, but a victory would’ve been pushing back the enemy, holding all the tunnels. That clearly didn’t happen, did it?”

Padme felt the conflict and anger that Ahsoka was directing towards herself.

“You did everything-”

The togruta gently raised a hand to interrupt. “I know, but my feelings at the moment are the battle I must fight. I look at every death, knowing, feeling like I could’ve stopped it yet… the terrible price that would’ve been paid in the future in ways-”

Padme felt her hand squeezing hard muscle reflexively in silent understanding of the entire dilemma that the leader and founder of Fulcrum faced.

“I must say that I’m surprised at the courage of the volunteers of Scipio. One wouldn’t think it of bankers and the people who live so comfortably in this place.”

Ahsoka nodded, “Not one of them retreated in fear, only when I ordered it. Even as their fellows were killed right next to them, they continued fighting. Muun logic, even in the face of death. I spoke with one volunteer leader in the hospital, asked him why. He had learned earlier that his twin sister had been killed in action, didn’t change a thing for him. ‘Retreat is illogical in this instance. Once one runs, commander, all the others will.’”

Padme couldn’t help but feel a mild awe and even envy at being so naturally in control of yourself that you can just process the death of a close sibling so easily.

“Now, do I accept the death that will come from sleeping for 2 hours? Do I have that right?”

“Can you accept the greater death that will happen if you don’t? If our commander is effectively dead on her feet at a critical moment or you’re forced to fight Dooku?”

Ahsoka’s answer was to suddenly kneel down onto the grass and a moment later, Padme was startled to feel her tip over.

In sheer reflex, she quickly knelt and caught her.

Padme winced at the sudden weight, trying her best to manage only to find herself with a lap full of suddenly snoozing Ahsoka.

“Oh dear, Mistress has overdone it again,” M8 said with exasperated affection.

“A little help, please, M8.”

Rather annoyingly, the droid’s idea of help was merely to rearrange Ahsoka’s limbs to a more comfortable position, keeping Padme’s lap as a pillow.

“I meant-”

She cut off what she meant to say, as she saw the sheer content, peaceful expression on Ahsoka’s face and suddenly couldn’t find it in her heart to rob her young togruta of it.

“All right…” Padme carefully rearranged her legs to a more comfortable position. “M8, keep a two hour timer, will you?”

“Of course, Senator.”

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A/N: Alternate POVs of the siege is interesting to explore. It's so easy to treat it all like an RTS, but these are people and clones, with hopes, dreams, grit and their only their natural gifts trying to survive and a lot of the time, there is no happy ending for them.

Have a great weekend and as always, stay awesome folks.