The Weaving Force: Chapter 111 (Patreon)

Chapter 111:

Anakin:

“FORWARD! DRIVE THEM OFF THE RIDGE!”

Anakin’s voice was raw, his throat feeling torn and mangled as he forced the sound to emerge. He felt like he’d been shouting for days as he urged his men and fellow Jedi onward, towards the droids that tried to reform their lines.

He pushed down on the accelerator pedal, the speeder bike howling as it zoomed past white armored clones, flying Mandalorians and charging Jedi.

His 501st elite rode through the army as well, trailing behind him with expert, deft maneuvering, ready to slam and keep slamming into the droid lines, preventing them from reforming into a solid line as they tore out chunks of their formations before they pulled back to strike back at them again, just as their own infantry took up the fight and the droids were driven back again, and again, and again. 

They wouldn’t stop, couldn’t. The entire battleplan depended entirely on controlling this plateau.

A shot from somewhere lanced out, striking his bike somewhere more sensitive than most. The engines whined, the vehicle lurching sideways suddenly as he struggled to keep it steady.

He straightened out, raw brute strength and Force manipulation letting him line it up.

He jumped off, his boots hitting the dirt and his body tumbling into a roll as the bike spun forward, like an out of control drill.

It slammed into the droids, its explosion the herald of several others as power cores burst and droid bodies sparked and spilled oil and coolant everywhere.

His lightsaber was in his hand already as he kept moving, kept running. His lungs were on fire but he wouldn’t stop. His blade flashed and danced across his eyes, blooming with sound and light at each deft parry and deflection, his elite 501st taking up the charge as they rushed past him, blasters barking. Clones, Jedi and Mandalorians fell in step at his side as they charged to join them.

His 501st pulled back as he and the others crashed into the disorganized, shattered lines. His sword rose and fell, hacking away at the metal bodies. More than one Jedi Hunter droid tried to intercept him, and more than one died. Their bodies crushed or their heads ripped off their shoulders, blown apart by clone or Mandalorian weapons. 

The sun was beginning to crest over the mountains, the scorching red banishing the shadows of the desert, gleaming off the armor of clones and the plating of so many droids. 

He kept hacking, kept driving forward, kept shouting, urging them on and on. He could see the ridge line now, the rocky outcroppings that they needed to reach if they were to have any hope.

Because as large as this force was, as massive as this battle seemed, he had to remind himself.

This was just their forward scouting party.

Clones advanced with Bulwark blast shields taking the brunt of enemy fire, heavy weapons firing back behind them. Jedi Knights advanced and helped their men push through, or died in their attempts. Mandalorians fired from the skies above, dueling with the odd Geonosian or jump pack droid to try and keep the aerial advantage.

Anakin’s lungs were on fire, and he almost missed the danger before he reeled back, physically dodging a shot that would have taken his head off before he sliced the B1s arms and body apart, yanking the blaster into his own hand to shoot back. Even holding it aloft to aim felt like he was trying to lift a hundred pounds.

His arms were so tired. His body ached.

And still. He. Pushed. Forward. 

The droids didn’t retreat. They didn’t break. They didn’t flee. They stood and fought in their hundreds, thousands, or millions, no matter How ineffectively or ‘cheaply’. They ALL needed to be wiped out to take the ridge. 

And they had to take this ridge.

Finally, they were there! His saber lashed out and his blaster barked as the last of the droids died, cast down off the ridge, tumbling down the hill as the clones and forces behind him roared in triumph.

And Anakin’s reward was to see the incomprehensibly vast force cresting over the distant horizon, marching across the valley, straight towards them.

“Sir!” Rex called, making Anakin turn to look at him.

His clone captain gave a firm nod from atop his own speeder bike. “We control the ground.”

Anakin let out a breathless laugh. “Damn right we do.”

—

He rode to the rear quickly, Rex with him. The base was being built at near lightning speed, with shields, auto-turret batteries and barricades forming quickly to form at least one defensible fallback point.

No one had time to rest now, nor would they until the day was done.

Or when they were dead. 

The Juggernaut tank was their mobile command center, retrofitted with the best communication tech the Republic had on hand. It would let them coordinate the various battlegroups, battalions and divisions of the army from here.

Luckily, he was one of the last to arrive, judging by everyone he saw in the Tank’s loading bay which had been converted into said command center. A thin blue shield covered the entry ramp opening to keep out the dust and debris of the desert.

Entering, Anakin immediately took the opportunity to bow. “Sorry I’m late, Masters.” 

“Not at all, Anakin.” Plo Koon shook his head, extending his hand to gesture to a place beside him. “Please, join us.”

He cast his eyes across the room, finding familiar faces in Aayla Secura and Bultar Swan. Swan he knew was Master Plo’s own Padawan, long since having ascended to the rank of Master herself. Anakin had never known her to be close with Victoria or Taylor, so he didn’t know her that well, but rumors said that she’d joined the Jedi Shadows, so who knew what exactly was true.

Across from them, a few unfamiliar faces that Anakin didn’t recognize. He could guess that they were Knights or Masters themselves, in charge of certain battlegroups of clones.

And then, of course, across from Master Plo was Master Sora Bulq and beside him, Bulq’s own padawan, Galdos Stouff.

Anakin did not regret his… friendly warning towards Master Bulq, but it certainly did make him feel just ever so slightly on edge to be sitting in the same room, discussing strategy with the man. 

Regardless, he hid his feelings, smiling happily towards Master Plo. “Thank you, sir.” He said easily as he walked up to Plo’s side to join him there. 

 “I understand that you’re all tired,” Master Plo began. “But I’m afraid the battle isn’t quite done.”

“As you can see, our main force has pushed the enemy back to the ridgeline. We hold the plateau, mostly.”

“The west still needs to be fortified.” Sora Bulq pointed out.

Plo nodded. “Yes. That before the main force arrives. We must hold the ridge in its entirety, but that isn’t all. South east, the dried riverbed.”

“It can circle around behind us,” Anakin conceded. “But it’s still a strong position for us if we hold them at the mouth of the embankment.”

“I agree, but our forces are spread thin. We’ll need to construct more robust defensive structures than we might have time for.” Plo answered before leaning forward over the table. “Our tasks are simple but must be carried out with all due haste. Master Bulq?”

Plo’s contemporary nodded. “Yes?”

“Your legion is the largest force present here, but they are the most inexperienced. Are you confident you can hold that defensive line against what’s coming?”

“We don’t have much of a choice.” Bulq answered with a shrug. “They will hold because they must. There’s no alternative.”

Bulq wasn’t wrong, and it would help that the lion’s share of available Jedi would be posted on that defensive line right along with him.

It still didn’t make him feel any better knowing that the troops that would see the heaviest fighting were their most inexperienced. Literally just shipped from Kamino. 

Plo made a sound but he did not protest, moving on towards the next target. “Hmmm. Knight Secura.”

Aayla straightened, nodding. “Master?”

Plo’s fingers began to move over the holomap, manipulating the icons to make them move and shift the designated battle lines according to his orders. “You are to take your battalion to the west. Sweep up and eliminate any enemy holdouts. Push them off of the plateau and then fortify. Go no further than the ridgeline. It is our cover and our defense. You attack them hard and fast, but you must not overextend. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

Plo nodded. “Swan.”

The Council member’s old Padawan stepped forward. “Yes, sir?”

“The riverbed. That line must hold. If the enemy breaks through, we will lose this battle and all our clones will be surrounded and cut to pieces.”

“I understand, Master. They won’t break through.”

“I know they won’t, my girl. Skywalker!”

“Yes, Master Plo?”

“I’ve heard people beginning to call your 501st the Lightning Legion. I’ll need you to bring that speed to bear now.” Once more, he moved the icons on the map. “You will be our rapid response force. This battle requires us to reinforce buckling lines and literally build defenses as we’re fighting. Your unit is the one that will give us the chance to do that. I wish you to hit fast and run away again, constant hit and run harassment, giving the defenders in the trenches moments to breathe, time to refortify and reform. My own legion and auxiliaries will be under your command in the 501st.”

It was an enormous responsibility and an enormous show of trust. Master Plo valued his clones above many other Masters and he wouldn’t entrust them to just anyone.

He felt nervous. 

But not unsure.

“I understand.” He confirmed. “You tell us the target, Master, and we’ll do what we need to.”

Plo nodded once again. “Good.”

—

CT- 853191417- Guelzo:

He slid across the tunnel floor, covering the remaining distance as warbling sonic shots and blaster fire passed over his head. His back cracked against the stone he was using for cover, feeling the impacts along the other side of it.

A clawed hand reached down from up above, the buzzing of wings reaching his ears as he drew his Beskar knife and stabbed the grasping talon straight through.

The Geonosian screeched, another rounding on Guelzo’s other side, spear in hand before a single, high powered shot lanced through its eye, spattering green gore across Guelzo’s helmet and body as the thing fell dead.

He yanked down on his knife, pulling the struggling Geonosian over the lip of the rock.

Its free hand swiped, scraping against the Beskar as Guelzo twisted the knife and the limb impaled by it, breaking carapace and whatever passed for bone as the insect screeched and flailed before he pulled his Blaster, pressing it under the beasts exposed chin where the plating was thin.

Two shots it slumped over dead.

Cid marched forward, hudling behind his shield, providing cover for Orwell behind him, who unleashed down the length of the tunnel with his heavy repeater, prioritizing the Geonosians with sonic weaponry above all others alongside firing his sniper rifle from a far off perch with pin point precision. 

“There- set them there!” He heard Asimov demand, two Clone Engineers setting pressure charges as Prachett hauled a wounded man to the rear.

Guelzo activated his comm. “Ma’am”

He heard the sound of distant gunfire, the crackling of flames, the buzzing of insects and the unmistakable hum of a lightsaber. “Report.”

“About to seal off Junction E-F, Give us your location. Interference is starting to make our tracking gear go haywire in this maze.”

“On your left”

He turned his head, finding a line of what passed as fireflies on this world forming up along the side of the tunnel, their bodies pulsing in synchronicity like safety lights.

“Got it ma’am. Be with you-” He jerked to the side, narrowly avoiding a thrown javelin before he returned fire with his Blaster, three shots, three hits, the Geonosian going down with a wounded cry. Not dead yet but that would change soon.

“Soldier’s move! Noble Team cover them!”

The Clones obeyed his order without question, pulling back in an organized fighting retreat, being covered and providing cover in turn to Cid, Orwell and Guelzo himself as they pulled back to the mouth of the tunnel.

The bugs pursued. They always pursued.

“Clear!”

One Engineer hit the dirt, the other fiddling with the detonator.

“Fire in the hole!”

The bomb went off and felt like Guelzo had been punched dead in the chest by a Miss Dallon, the tunnel imploding in on itself as though it was sucked in by a black hole collapsing and crushing whatever moronic bug had been too damn close. 

The inside of the hive was a honeycombing maze. With thousands of divergent passages like the veins in a circulatory system. 

Down, deep, deep down, was the Queen’s chamber.

Seismic scans had revealed the entire network but even their force of nearly seven hundred thousand Clones and two hundred Jedi could never cover every divergent path.

It left them with one option.

Seal the tunnels as they went so they wouldn’t be flanked.

Or at least not as easily flanked.

It had its limits. The small, ‘capilary’ tunnels could be collapsed without much issue.

The larger ones risked a complete system failure.

Which would kill them all.

Personally, if it were up to him, he would have set the charges and let the whole mountain crush the slimy bastards.

But it wasn’t up to him- and Jedi didn’t do genocide.

So down they went.

This tunnel here had been particularly stubborn; killing the three squads sent to secure it and three Jedi.

Miss Hebert asked them to take care of it.

All she had to do really.

For now, the army kept descending down into the depths, deep enough that electronics were beginning to get spotty. Soon they’d have to split, he knew that. Another major ‘artery’ tunnel was just a few clicks further from when last he saw Miss Hebert. 

Once that split happened; it was anyone’s guess which side might reach the queen first. 

Personally, Guelzo hoped it was Yoda.

He didn’t like what this place was doing to Miss Hebert.

“Come on- lets move.” He called, his men and the troopers falling in after him as they hustled to catch up.

Following the path; there was a literal trail of bodies. Clones. Geonosians. Droids. There were more of ‘theirs’ than ‘his’ but the fact that there were two hundred Jedi and they were still taking casualties spoke to the sheer, desperate madness of the Geonosians.

They were terrified, of Miss Hebert.

And that fear was driving them into a maddened, frothing frenzy he had no real words to describe.

They were suicide bombing their lines- advance parties found warriors butchering worker drones so they couldn’t be taken over before Miss Hebert got in range- dead man switches, booby trapped corpses, charges meant to collapse tunnels that had only failed because of the insects that Miss Hebert did control ate the wiring before they realized what was happening.

The Bugs gave a whole new meaning to the word desperate.

Guelzo wasn’t force sensitive; but even he could almost feel the poison that was this fight; this battle. How it seeped into the Jedi and even his fellow clones themselves. The fear, the desperation, the raw hate the bugs had. 

Men weren’t meant to to see creatures willingly charge into gunfire, or immolation, or being devoured by a swarm of insects, over and over again just for the zealous, fanatical hope that their sacrifice might be the one to kill their target.

He remembered the book; from the author from which he’d chosen his name. A speech. He thought it… a beautiful thing, then. He still thought so now. Wondering if it would apply to this war. For it too- was a civil war. 

Four Score and Seven years ago- it began; commemorating the soldiers that had died on what the man, Lincoln, declared a hallowed battlefield.

He didn’t think those words- that to Guelzo’s untrained eye, seemed more like poetry… could ever fit this place.

This was no hallowed ground. This was no place where the dead gave the last full measure of devotion; for a world where all men are created equal.

No…

This was butchery. 

This was a charnel house; nothing more.

He hoped, for all their sakes- that one day that would change.

The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here.

His brothers, the Jedi and Miss Hebert… they deserved to be remembered for better things than this…

They reached the main body of the army, negotiating their way through the throng even as others made way for them.

Engineers and sappers were already hard at work reinforcing walls to keep them from collapsing, pulling down hard wire comm links to try and boost signals and keep others in communication. Fire Teams split off into adjacent tunnels and others examined holo maps to figure out where to place charges. 

Further in they went, until Guelzo and his brothers could hear the buzzing of insects, the crackling of flames and the howling of the dying. 

—

Sora Bulq:

The sea of droids was endless.

Seven times in four hours they threw themselves into the gap along the ridge, and seven times they were thrown back.

Artillery shells rained down around them while Vulture droids dueled with clone and Corellian pilots overhead. Bombers strafed their positions, carpet bombing wherever they could reach, sometimes shot down in time or having their bombs deflected by portable shield generators that were desperately repaired or replaced before the next attack.

Or, neither would happen and the bombs would tear through men and armor leaving a trail of ruin and death.

The earth shook under his feet. Men cried and screamed in their final moments; shot by droids, impaled by Geonosian spears, or torn apart by sonic weapons. The smell of sulfur, smoke, fire and melting metal choked the air. 

From his place overlooking the defense, Bulq could see the medics dragging the injured to the rear, even as they left the dead where they lay.

And there were so very many dead.

Clone and Mandalorian; the chaff and the weak.

And yes, Jedi too.

He saw a singular Knight rallying a point in the defensive line to his right, his green blade bright in the high sun, only for the Geonosians to swarm him, tearing him apart and dragging him down as they clawed, bit, hacked and stabbed him to bloody chunks of flesh they would soon eat or drag back to their hives.

He saw another pull down a boulder to smash apart a droideka to save a handful of clones, only to leave himself exposed to a super battle droid that blasted a burst of bolts into his side. The boy was dead before he hit the ground.

He felt the death of three more - barely more than children - huddled together for safety, torn apart by an artillery shell.

And still the armies fought on, the clones grinding against the mechanical behemoth, ever more digging in their heels to win… what, exactly?

Worthless.

Worthless and pointless.

“Master?”

He turned, finding the expectant eyes of his Padawan, Galdos, staring at him expectantly… eagerly.

Bulq had little reason to delay any longer.

He nodded.

His Padawan turned, rushing off to complete his task.

Plo activated his commlink.

It took a moment, but the priority emergency contact cut through the interference.

A holo bloomed in place. “Master Bulq?”

She looked surprised and haggard. Tired. She’d been fighting on the front no doubt.

Good.

“Knight Secura.” He spoke to the young Twi’lek. “I am relaying your new orders.”

—

Anakin:

“Sir, you need to rest.”

Rex’s voice was coated with concern, and the sheer exhaustion that dug its claws right down to the marrow of Anakin’s bones made him want to listen.

But he couldn’t, cause the battle wasn’t done.

So instead, he took a water bottle offered to him, gulping it down as clone engineers and maintenance droids fixed and repaired the fleet of speeders and fast attack vehicles that pulled in behind him atop the hill.

His men were cycling through sorties, one group resting while the next charged out. Up and down the line they rushed forward, flying over the heads of their own men to harass and harry the attackers wherever it might look like they were about to breach the lines or gain a foothold. 

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” He answered. The bravado was only half false, he assured himself.

“You’re going to be if you don’t stay back and rest!” Rex snarled.

“I’m resting now, aren’t I?” He answered blithely. He looked around, not looking at his XO to avoid meeting the man’s concerned gaze. Finding a clone scout trooper he called. “Scout!”

The man’s head snapped over to him and Anakin extended his hand. “Binocs, please.”

The trooper hustled over, pulling the piece of equipment off himself and handing it over to Anakin.

“Thanks, trooper.” He nodded to the man, one of Plo Koon’s. The scout answered with an “Of course, sir.” as Anakin placed the binocs over his eyes to oversee the battlefield.

He trailed his eyes to the south east; where Swann was stationed, finding the men still fortifying, still preparing. He couldn’t see down to the riverbed to know if the enemy was approaching but judging by the urgency he saw in the individual soldiers and the notable dust cloud along the eastern horizon, he’d guess that an attack was imminent. 

He turned his eyes towards the north, the main battle line.

Sora Bulq’s green recruits were being bled white on those fields, the droids crashing over them and through the gaps in the stony ridgeline with all the fury and power of an iron fist. Droid bombers and fighters flew and strafed overhead, shot down by mobile, deployed anti aircraft weaponry- tanks shot over the lines of infantry to shoot at other tanks, leaving shattered remains behind that was quickly repurposed as new cover for the soldiers and droids. Droideka’s rushed like wolf packs along the edges of the fight, harassing defenders, Jedi, lightsabers shining like beacons drew eyes, support and fire to them in equal measure.

It was chaos. A grind of army against army.

But those green recruits were holding and after today- they’d be ‘green’ no longer.

Finally, he turned his eyes to the east-

Immediately; he felt a sharp spike of worry.

“Rex.” He called. “Did we get order updates or a communication from Master Plo that I missed?”

The Clone turned his head, looking at him before quickly pulling free a datapad. 

He took a half second to check. “No. Why?”

Anakin pulled free the binocs. “Get Master Plo on the line!” 

Rex moved to obey. “Patchi- The hell!?”

Anakin switched his com-piece to link into Rex’s frequency, getting a high pitched whine and a burst of static in his ears for his efforts.

Fuck…

He felt it then- a tingle at the back of his mind a sense of danger and impending horror blooming across his senses.

Something was wrong- deeply, horribly wrong.

Turning, his head on a swivel, Anakin looked over the heads of the troopers around him- finding the CO of Plo-Koon’s 104th; they were set to head out next. 

He dismounted his bike, running over to the man, hearing Rex cursing as he rushed to run after him.

The trooper saw him before he reached him. “General? What’s?”

Anakin reached up with his hand, nearly knocking the Clone captain off his speeder bike as his palm cracked into the chestplate, gripping tight along its edge as he pulled the man close and pointed, urging him to follow with his eyes. 

“Captain! You have no time. Get your men ready and move Knight Secura has moved out of position. There’s a gap! She’s going to be cut off and our western flank is about to be completely overtaken! You bring them back here, Unless you get a direct order from myself or Master Plo those orders stand no matter what anyone says! Do you understand me!?”

“Aye sir.” The man nodded, adjusting his seat to regain his balance. “Orders if Knight secura resists.”

“Shoot her with a stun round and drag her back here anyway!”

—

CT- 853191417- Guelzo:

As he approached the mound of dead, the tunnel was lit by the multicolored spectrum of too many lightsabers. The Jedi spread out through a cavern that seemed large enough to fit three Juggernaut tanks through.

The stink of burning corpses hung heavy here. Not just from the flames, but from lightsabers that had carved apart carapaces and flash boiled insect gore. Dozens of Jedi dragged or pushed the dead to the edges of the cavern to make room for the Clones that filed in, fresh and ready for the fights ahead.

“Guelzo-” Miss Hebert nodded, standing beside Master Yoda. The little green master, Guelzo noted, didn’t have his saber lit. “Good work back there.” She complemented.

He nodded. “Course ma’am.” 

Yoda walked, she next to him, Noble fell in behind her.

Marching forward Guelzo noted the two, yawning caverns splitting off towards the other side of the great cavity they were currently in. 

“Here, divide we must.” Yoda said gravely. “The Path to the Queen, you must follow.”

The words made Guelzo raise an eyebrow, but he kept his silence. 

“And you’re going to… that Darkside focal point?”

The what?

Yoda nodded. “Hmmm… ignore it we cannot… a Sith… present they are.”

That wasn’t their objective-

Again, Guelzo held his silence. 

“Yeah…” Miss Hebert said. “We’ll be cut off from each other. I won’t be able to help you, nor you me… It might be what he wants.”

“Fight the Sith… we must. Capture, or kill the Queen, we must. Risk either’s escape, we cannot do.” Yoda said firmly.

For a long moment, Miss Hebert said nothing; then.

“Don’t die…” She ordered. “Vicky will be sad if you die.”

He saw the little grandmaster smile.

Guelzo held his silence.

They followed Miss Hebert-

The rest didn’t matter. 

—

Bultar Swan

Droids were not clones- were not organic. They didn’t do desperate, harried charges. Their movements were precise, necessary. They didn’t rush or ‘surge’ or howl and scream as battle lines met battle lines.

And yet still, as the forces met on the steep slope of the embankment, it felt like a thunderstorm had rolled over them. Specialized vehicles unfolding metal ramps game the walking machines all the traction their spindly legs needed as the sheets of metal slammed down onto the ground before their barricades like siege ramps- the soft sand would offer no hindrance to the machines.

The front ranks were rows upon rows of super battle droids, with heavy wrist blasters and rockets. Droideka with overlapping shields crawled their way forward, unloading their twin linked canons onto the defenders.

Red blaster bolts spilled over the barricades like raindrops, Clones returned fire, threw ion and flak grenades, heavy mortar and weapons teams fired into the mass of metal that kept up their slow relentless march up towards them. 

“HERE THEY COME, GET READY!” She roared out to the Clones and Jedi behind her.

She had to do a double take for a split second, recognizing the figure of Galdos, Sora Bulq’s Padawan near the rear.

He’d been deployed with Master Bulq- What was he doing here?

But then the droids were battering down the barricades, the powerful B2’s literally tearing through the metal fortifications, clearing the way to reach the second line of emplacements and trenches and she had no time to ask questions or heed the warning in the force, drowned out by a million other warnings of the dangers around them

CHARGE!

Clones rose into the air on jetpacks, firing rockets deep into the formation, ripping chunks out of the massed group, leaving them in disarray as Jedi rushed down the hill, Clones at their back, the downhill rush smashing into the enemy lines as Swann led at the front.

Her Master had bid her to hold this ground- and though she might disagree with him on occasion, she would never let him down.

It was one of the last thoughts she had before fire reigned down from the sky above with impossible precision… and tore her battalion to pieces.

—

Plo Koon

He went still as he felt it happen just mere seconds before the tremors in the earth reached their command post. He knew it to be true as the sharp pain made itself known as it sliced open his heart.

His student was dead.

“Sir!” Clone 3636 rushed to his side. “Sir- we’ve got trouble.”

“The Eastern flank by the riverbed.” He  whispered, already aware in a way that his troops could never have told him.

“Aye sir. They were hit by a precision orbital strike. Went straight through comm and targeting interference.”

Plo-Koon tried to remain calm, to keep his inner ‘center’ steady. To push away his own grief and feeling- his mind needed to be clear.

But in that moment he found it difficult, the memory of Swann’s face ghosting across his mind, adding to the ever oppressive shroud of death and pain and misery in the Force that all but suffocated the Jedi on this blighted, hateful world. 

A new face stepped through the front doors, and Plo Koon turned in time to find- 

“Anakin!?”

The young Knight was panting heavily, his brow drenched with sweat, his clothes and skin covered in the rust red dust and sand of Geonosis

“Master I-”

Master Plo!” Another of his clone coordinators barked. “Sir- the droids are pushing through in the east. Master Bulq is reporting that Knight Secura is out of position and the western flank is about to be overtaken and surrounded!”

“What!” Plo whirled around towards the man. “When did this happen! Why has Knight Secura moved-”

“Don’t know sir- but if we don’t-”

Plo turned away, feeling his blood pounding suddenly through his temples, his skull feeling as though the pressure of it all would crack his own head open.

He marched past Anakin, out into the exterior, standing in the middle of his camp and looking over the distant battles that suddenly seemed to be going so wrong.

He peered through the dust. Looked at white armored bodies and the skeletal silhouettes of the millions of droids that swarmed over them like the tide.

He could see it, in his mind, in the force. How the metal bodies would wash over them, a sea of blood and charred corpses, crushed under metal boots and implacable, unfeeling machines.

His heart ached, for the dead, for his apprentice- the weight of failure pressed down over him as all had been lost while he sat here, useless and apparently blind to the goings on of the battle he was meant to lead-

“Master-”

A hand was at his shoulder, and Skywalker’s touch was like a torch lit in a dark cave, casting light where shadow threatened to swallow him. 

Plo turned, looking at the younger man who shook his head. “Master- It's not over.”

It wasn’t. Not if they acted. Not if he gave his orders, let the men retreat. They would lose so many and others would need to be pulled away from other fronts to help. But they had options, fallback points, defensive contingencies.

But then, Skywalker’s hand tightened, and his next words Plo could scarcely believe. 

“The battle is ours to win!”

—

EG-5 #007221-4-88:

Combat protocols; Active.

Current runtime: 4.7 Galactic Standard Hours

Armor integrity: 96.82

Performance: Within accepted parameters.

Network uplink: stable. Processing lag increase by 0.82% Acceptable parameters.

The Network uplink was a recent upgrade for 88 along with his fellow EG-5 modelsWith a battlefield encompassing hundreds of thousands of kilometers, with an identified 1,276 Jedi targets, the collective, aggregate intelligence gathered and uploaded to the network by he and his fellow EG-5’s was rapidly coalessing and increasing their understanding of the Jedi as a collective and as individuals at an exponential rate.

His deployment on this battlefield had found no Jedi, yet. Merely Clones and Mandalorians. Further South- others within the network had identified several Jedi priority targets.

Even now he could tap into their uplinks, viewing the battles in real time along the south even as his primary processors focused on carving their way through the Clones in their trenches, reaching the defensive lines with all the speed available to his model and upgrades. 

His hand carved its way through a trooper; the clone screaming as it died- as his eyes beheld the crackle of lightsaber pushing against lightsaber, identifying the distant enemy his fellow EG-5 was contending with. 

Jedi: Serra Keto

Race: Human

Rank: Knight

She had two blades, colored green. She matched his fellow model’s strikes and speed with her own, leaping up and over, bouncing off walls, pulling away and pressing the attack with a fluidity that belied her true skill with the sabers far above her given rank. 

Lightsaber form: Jar-Kai. Base: Ataru

Force usage pattern: Supplemental.

Estimated Force Strength: Minimal

A thrust, a feint, a parry, her sabers never touched the Cortosis armor even though his fellow EG-5 left the openings, hoping she would fall into the trap.

Then, his fellow EG-5 lost sight of her, just for a moment, an instant’s lapse in the melee;

And its feed went dark.

Threat Level: Moderate

Other cameras were uplinked- different perspectives of the battle caught along the periphery. The Knight had used her Sabers to break open the exhaust port just beneath the back of their necks.

Information was compiled, sent to the network database.

Updates would be created and implemented.

Improvements would be made.

He flicked into another feed, dodging and weaving between shots from a slug thrower, his processors warning him and prioritizing its danger above everything else, thrusters and powerful limbs swallowing the distance towards the heavy gun emplacements; 

Jedi: Empatojayos Brand

Race: Human

Rank: Master

Its two gunners were cut down as the distant EG-5 was caught in a grip of telekenetic Force energy, holding it still, even as it overclocked its motors in order to try and resist, to break free.

Many others had been destroyed similarly. 88 knew it would not prevail.

Lightsaber form: Niman

Force usage pattern: Primary

Estimated Force Strength: Significant

The last thing the trapped model saw was a stone hurtling through the air straight towards its head.

88 could almost hear the shattering of its metal skull.

Threat level: Significant

More data compiled. More information to be used when the next model encountered this Jedi. 

The B-2’s at last caught up to 88 flamethrowers spitting out gouts of flame into the trench, bathing the defenses in fire, clearing them out quickly as Clones fled to get away from the horrid death that would find them if they stayed in range as the fires quickly began to spread.

Note: Priority Target

He did not choose to view the information this time; nor did any of his contemporaries- processes were forcefully taken over, priority coordinates sent, all Hunters in range suddenly converging on a fixed position.

88 was out of range. 

Jedi: Depa BillabaRace: Human

Rank: Jedi Master- High Council

The Woman stood atop a command platform, its shields deflecting stray shots and rockets. Mandalorians, Jedi and Clones at her side; their weapons glowing red hot as they unloaded into the encroaching army surrounding them. 

They would not fight her with anything less than their full available strength in the designated combat zone. 

Lightsaber Form: Unknown - Deviant Variation

Force Usage Pattern: Balanced

Estimated Force Strength: Significant

She shouted out orders, not yet joining the battle herself as the EG-5’s converged.

Threat Level: High.

Suddenly, a slew of priority targets flooded his combat logs- the coordinates placing the deluge of Jedi… behind the droid lines, attacking the vulnerable artillery. 

Other units responded, assignments changed, forces diverted. 88 took the time to read over the list of names that had invaded the logs.

Ausar Auset: Rank: Jedi Master- High Council

Even Piell: Rank: Jedi Master- High Council

Soon Bays: Rank: Jedi Master

Joclad Danva: Rank: Jedi Knight

Tu’ala: Rank: Jedi Knight. 

Puroth: Rank: Jedi Master

Firkrann: Rank: Jedi Knight

L’lacielo Sageon: Rank: Jedi Knight

Sar Labooda: Rank: Jedi Knight

Tarados Gon: Rank: Jedi KnightIskat Akaris: Rank: Jedi Knight

Sarrissa Jeng: Rank: Jedi Knight

Jmmaar: Rank: Jedi Master

Que-Mars Redath-Gom: Rank Jedi Knight

Fi-Ek Sirch: Rank: Jedi Knight

Nicanas Tassu: Rank: Jedi Knight

Sta-Den Eekin: Rank: Jedi Master

Pablo-Jill: Rank Jedi Knight

Sephjet Josall: Rank: Jedi Knight

Ichi-Tan Micoda: Rank: Jedi Knight

Khaat Qiyn: Rank: Jedi Knight

More names scrolled through- thirty Jedi in total. A significant Force. His programing urged him to pull away, leave the front here, withdraw to the rear with the designated Sixty Seven others being drawn away to hunt.

But before he could 88 heard the howl of jetpacks descending from above. 

His eyes cast upwards, primary processor identifying the Clone unit and its Beskar armoring immediately.

707th, Silver Wing. Elite Shock Troop. 

As if to prove his words true, the twenty Clones and a large Mandalorian commander crashed down into the trenches, marching through the still burning wreckage without a care, slug throwers and high yield blasters tearing through super-battle droids and Droideka shields, retaking the seized Trenches with brutal, swift efficiency 

Personal Guard of Jedi Master Dallon.

88 cast his eyes upwards.

She descended.

His priority warning was sent out a second later.

Jedi: Victoria Dallon

Race: Human

Rank: Master

Lightsaber Form: Juyo, Ataru

Force usage pattern: Supplemental

Estimated Force Strength: Unknown

Threat Level: Omega

Droids did not feel fear, but he knew his data, like those of the other models he’d viewed before this moment; would soon join the network. 

Immediately; all Jedi Hunter droids in his sector, quit the field.

There was no point in wasting the resources.

—

Evan Piell

The Artillery division was burning wrekage by the time he received confirmation that reinforcements were being dispatched to 'deal' with them out here.

"How many are they sending?" He asked one of the Mandalorian scouts.

"Plenty." The man answered gruffly. "Eyeball- I'd say two, three thousand droids. Couple of armored vehicles."

Against a small group of just two hundred, it'd be overkill.

Against thirty Jedi… it was about what he expected.

"Lets move!" He shouted as loud as he could force himself to be. "Three minutes and we're out!"

That was the standard time he'd assigned to everyone.

Once the call went out you had three minutes to hop on the bike or transport and leave or you would be left behind.

Of course, he had no intention of leaving anyone behind- but telling them they had three minutes and three minutes only tended to make people work fast.

As expected the Clones began to rush, dataslates grabbing everything theycould off of logs and droid memory cores. Mandalorians finished whatever scavenging they were doingand the Jedi mounted up as fasas they could.

"There are four more divisions like this." Auset said beside him. "If we can hit just two more- it'll do more than wonders for our defensive lines."

Piell offered a nod, agreeing. His fellow Councilman was right.

"I imagine the Seperatits will be defending their remaining columns much more heavily than this one was-" They'd caught them with their pants down- likely their command didn't expect a small raiding force.

Now that surprise was gone.

"We'll have to be careful once we-"

"GENERAL SIR!"

The troopers shout made Piell whirl around. "Huh? What is it trooper!?" He called, feeling more than seeing Auset grasp at his saber behind him."

"Sir, got something light, small and fast coming in." The trooper nodded. "It'll be on us in fifteen at this rate.

Fifteen seconds! What the-"

"What even is it?" Auset demanded? A fighter? A speeder."

The Clone hesitated. "I… it almost looks like General Dallon sir."

"Dallon!" Piell balked.

"The hell is she doing!?" Auset's snarl was a thing to behold on the face of a Nikto. "She should be at the defensive line!"

"Something must be wrong, she might be trying to warn us about something, another of the Jedi Knights, a younger man Piell didn't recognize spoke up.

"Piell felt his instincts in the force calling to him, something was absolutely wrong, it wasn't measuring up.

Then, withs econds to spare, he realized-

He couldn't sense Dallon's signature cold presence in the force anywhere near them.

"Master Auset we-"

Had no time."

Something struck the Geonosian dirt and rock like a literal meteor, kicking up a storm as Piell and Auset braced themselves, the Nikto pulling free his lightsaber as did other Jedi, and several Mandalorians drew their blasters.

The thing that came out of the dust…

"Is that a… droid?" Someone whispered somewhere behind him."

"Must be-" Another answered. "Don't see a bit of flesh on him.

"New Model?"

The thing was tall… nine feet at least. He couldn't see the whole of its body through the cloak, he simly saw its shoulders and form twist and undulate under the heavy covering as machinery clicked and whired with a hiss of discharged heat. tHE EDGES OF ITS BODY AND MASK STILL GLOWING FAINTLY.

With a start Piell realized he could see flesh on the machine.

Its eyes.

They gleamed with a malevolent intelligence… a will, shining like Topaz stones as it toewred over each of them.

Auset breathed. "Who are you." The Councilman demanded.

Those reptile eyes shifted .

And that was it.

One second Ausett was standing beside Piell… in the next…

A metallic fist, so titanically powerful and delivered with such speed, made the Jedi master's skull shatter like a glass jar, blood, bone and brain matter scattering across the sands as Jedi screamed in frightened shock and Mandalorians and Clones opened fire.

Piell drew his saber, the hiss of machinery going off once more with a discharge of heat as… the cyborg laughe, delighted.

Three Jedi rushed in behind him-

The Cyborg whirled around, one foot grabbing a Knight by the face  before smashing him down to the floor beneath its taloned leg- skull crushed or neck broken it didn't matter.

Another Knight swung, blade aiming for the head before master Auset's blade, now stolen, battered the Knights aside before the other fist, still free canoned into the reeling Knight's chest sending blood fountaining from his mouth as a shattered body sailed across the sands, his entire torso lookingas though it was a lumpy sack of pulped meat within his robes.

Piell lunged, his brain finally catching up to the crisis, a rain of blaster fire cascading down onto the enemy as several droids slipped out of stealth around them, Mandalorian and Jedi caught in an instantaneous fight for their lves as the Cyborg whirled arun without ever moving his legs, his spine spimply letting him turn a full 180 degrees so his stolen Saber could smack Piell's aside, the force of it sending the High Council member off course and off balance.

He hit the ground moving to stand and caught a flash of green emerald light-

And then he wondered who'd headless body fell to the floor infront of him.

Having a fleeting moment of horrified realization before the world turned gray and dark.

---

Anakin

“The Battle is ours to win”

His words came out before he understood what he was saying.

But they were true.

He could see it- 

The threads of the great, unknowable tapestry winding and weaving- forming a whole as they came together, inch by inch, piece by piece, inevitably and implacably. Becoming rigid and unchanging as they slipped through the infentismal here of the present and into the past.

But their defeat was not in the past, not yet. Always in motion the future is.

And within that eternal ebb and flow…

He could see the path to Victory.

Master Plo couldn’t. Anakin could feel the weight of his despair, the shroud over his sight, the crushing guilt smothering him beneath its weight.

For a moment, just a moment, Anakin feared the Jedi Master wouldn’t believe him. Wouldn’t trust in either the Force, or even the possibility.

But then Plo Koon seemed to look at him, truly look at him.

And he nodded.

It was all the permission Anakin needed.

He called his men, he contacted Rex who would lead the 501rst in Anakin’s stead to the east, down to the Riverbank. He could see how the battle there would proceed as though he were there himself. 

The Droids we're pushing through, but their ramps, that had been used to let them climb the steep embankment weren’t higher up the slope. Soft sand and collapsing earth would drag the machines down, slow them, clump them all together into a great, heaving crushing mass. Too close and tightly packed to fight, incapable of bringing their full strength to bear.

Rex’s countercharge would plow into them- tear them to pieces.

It would be like shooting fish in a barrel. 

He himself mounted his speeder bike one more time and the tattered forces he pulled together followed after him. The eddies and flows of the force crystalized in his sight. Showing him the path. Showing him the future he had to seize.

And as he drew close the main army broke and ran, their trenches and defenses overwhelmed, their dead left on the field.

It looked like a rout. Total defeat.

Anakin lit up his saber as he drew nearer, his presence in the force unfurling like a banner in the wind, shining bright like a beacon, the way he saw Victoria do in so many of her engagements, the touch of his mind spreading near and far to every living being he could reach, like Taylor did every moment that she walked in the waking world. 

He could see the path to Victory.

And he compelled all to follow him on it.

—

Billaba

The pain rolled across her entire body; a slow, burning, rolling agony as Kast pressed a bacta slathered bandage into the wound at her side pressing down with all of his weight.

She hissed, a sharp sucking breath as her hand squeezed at his armored vambrace, the other clenching tight and white knuckled at her own saber.

“That was careless. Stupid.” Kast grunted, pulling free some bandages. “My Beskar could have withstood that shot.”

“My apologies.” She clenched her eyes tight “Reflex.”

The younger man growled, pressing down even harder- and though she knew it would ultimately help, she had to wonder if there wasn’t at least a little bit of spite in the act.

Scratch that. He was definitely angry. 

“Master Brand-” She called, if only to distract herself as Krast began to wrap a tight bandage around her middle, the bacta slathered patch being held tight to her side. “I need- rgh.” She sucked down a breath. “An update.”

Her fellow Master stood like a tower, a blast shield on one side, Saber on the other, protecting the both of them alongside her most senior clones. “We’re holding Master Billaba. Just see to that wound he reassured.

Then- suddenly, the endless, constant cacophony of blasters firing… diminished.

And after a second, vanished entirely.

“Master Brand?” She called.

The large man blinked, looking around with wide eyes towards something she couldn’t see over the trench line. “The Droids are… pulling back?”

Billaba blinked. “What!?”

She moved to stand; the pain at her side robbing her of her strength as Kast cursed her name, before grabbing hold to stop her from tipping over and falling flat on her face. 

“Help me stand.” She ordered.

The Dark haired Mandalorian growled out a curse upon her house and name in Mando’a.

But he did help her stand. 

Rising up over the lip of the Trench, she indeed saw the droids, still in their millions pulling away, marching away from the Trenchline they’d already breached and taken, surrendering the taken ground as they pulled back weapons pointed skyward.

“What in the For-”

Master Brand’s question was cut off as a crackle broke through the silence like a gunshot, a hundred staticky voices rising like the moans of the dead from half destroyed droid speakers.

“Ma’am-” another droid commsman called, pulling free a holo- “Its on broad channels. Non encrypted. Patching it through-”

She grunted in pain as she hobbled closer, Karst helping her once again.

The thing that she saw in the pale blue light- was like nothing she’d ever seen.

“Is that a… droid? Brand asked. 

“Dallon”

The voice was mechanical- artificial, and not just because of the droids transmitting it. 

It sounded like iron. Like knives scraping against stone.

The thing kicked a box at its side, its taloned feet clanging hard against the metal surface as it opened and out came…

Heads.

They tumbled across the floor and Billaba realized she recognized them.

Those were her Jedi.

The monster reached down-, pulling up the slack jawed skull of none other than Master Piell; its claws digging into palid flesh. 

“Your Jedi are dead. All of them. 

Billaba felt her heart fall down into her stomach, turning to look at a droid commsman. “Raise Master Auset, now!”

The Clone nodded, moving to follow her orders

The Droid tossed aside the head with an insulting carelessness. 

In one hour. I will resume the attack. Find me Dallon. Find me and fight me. Or I will kill each of the Jedi that are with you in that pitiful line you call a defense.”

Billaba turned, looking towards the Clone commsman. 

The man shook his head silently. 

Billaba tried not to let her doubt, her fear show on her face.

Could it really be true?

Could this person have really killed thirty Jedi before they could even get a single message out or try to escape?

“I am General Grievous. And I will be the one to kill you, Perfect Jedi.

—

Sora Bulq

He didn’t call for the retreat. He bid the Clones hold the line.

They would die trying… as would the Jedi.

But the outcome was a foregone conclusion. Secura’s unit was surrounded, cut off. The western flank exposed, now being rolled up by the droids that overtook it. The main body of the enemy pressed into the front even with all the casualties that caused.

Droids didn’t care about casualties.

And at one moment; when the clones turned to him for orders- he simply wasn’t there.

That’s when they broke.

Even meat dolls didn’t wish to die- it seemed.

It was a butcher’s bill they paid, trying to retreat. Trying to escape. He could see it. Feel it. Hundreds, thousands dying in their droves their screams in the air and blood soaking the sands. 

The Droids would wash over this place, they would crash into other, unprotected and positions in different locations across this sector of the battlefield. Ground would need to be ceded- then retaken. Casualties would mount. The War would keep grinding on and on.

All needed to cull the Jedi, to eliminate the rot and weakness borne in the order.

Sidious had shown him the truth of it- the Jedi simply confirmed it.

Months. And not one on that feeble Council had even suspected.

And they called themselves Jedi.

Then- he saw madness.

And the impossible.

It took him too long to recognize Skywalker. Too long to understand that the speeders and assaul vehicles rushing forward were not trying to ‘rescue’ the Clones fleeing for their lives-

But rather charging headlong into the teeth of the enemy.

Then- Skywalker’s force presence erupted.

That was the only word Sora Bulq had to describe it.

The boy shone like a star in the desert. A sun racing across the dunes, catching everyone and everything in the pull of its gravity.

The Droids were scattered, spread out in their pursuit and mop ups. They were sluggish to respond and the heavy armor lurching its way over the ridgeline not in place to return proper fire.

It was like a Scythe cutting through wheat.

The Countercharge  cut deep into the enemy, tearing them apart as the Clones seemed to organize on the run while the droids floundered and processed, trying to comprehend the sudden shift too slowly to do anything about it.

The Geonosians broke, fleeing first even as they were gunned down when they didn’t fly high or fast enough.

Skywalker shoved a tank up and through the army infront of him, driving straight to the cusp of the ridgeline… and then kept going.

Sora Bulq lost sight of him, but the Clones and the Jedi followed in his wake, blasterfire and explosions ripping through the world beyond the crest like an entirely new war, and growing more and more distant as what he could only assume prognosticated that Skywalker was charging ever deeper into the millions of droids that must’ve been caught completely unprepared.

…

He could not win…

It was impossible.

And yet…

Bulq could not chance it either. 

He turned, finding the grim, sneering face of his own Padawan.

“Come.” He snarled. “There is still one avenue left to secure the outcome we desire.”

—

Vicky:

“Why the challenge? Why give us an hour?”

The question was a valid one, but all Vicky could offer was a shrug towards Slipstream. 

“Pride maybe?” She ventured. “Wants to prove he’s got the biggest pair in the desert?”

“Perhaps.” Aras rumbled, squinting at the still image of the holo. “Kalee?”

Vicky blinked at him- “Bless you?” 

His response was an unamused look. “His eyes, the face. It looks like a Kaleesh”

“Now that you mention it…” Karst nodded. “Yes, I see it too.”

“If it is a Kaleesh- challenging you fits their kind.” Billaba hissed as she shifted in her seat. “I’ve met them before. They take a great deal of pride in their martial prowess. They even deify their greatest warriors. Taking you down would certainly have his people see him as a God.”

“Seriously!?” Vicky balked; then sniggered. “You’re sayin someone’s godhood depends on wether or not he can put me on my ass? Shit- I gotta tell Tay she got an upgrade in rank a while ago!”

“Focus.” Aras rumbled, like a chastising father.

“Or-”

All eyes rounded over to one of Vicky’s own Clones, a comm specialist clad in Beskar, one of her Silver Wings. 

The man swiveled a datapad around to show it off. “There’s an advantage he wants to exploit.”

Vicky, and the others with her leaned closer, what exactly the image was becoming clearer.

“Fuck.” She snarled. 

It was an image from the ships in orbit. A warning.

A dust storm that looked to be about the size of fucking Texas to her amateur eye was heading straight towards them.

“Probably don’t need to tell you this-” She could hear the Clone’s grimace. “It’ll be here in about an hour.”

“Droids don’t care how bad a storm gets, but Clones even with their desert gear will be at a disadvantage.” Krast hissed. 

‘Mother. Fucker.’ “So that’s his game.” She said, crossing her arms.

“We can’t abandon this position.” Billaba said, If we do, nothing will stop this force from pouring into the rear lines of other formations. We might lose the entire campaign.”

“We’re not losing.” She promised. 

Billaba eyed her, beads of sweat on her brow from the pain of her injury.

Vicky wasn’t wholly sure the woman believed her-

But in the end, she probably realized she didn’t have a choice in that either.

She nodded. 

“Very well Master Dallon.”

—

Taylor:

The Further down we went, the less our navigation equipment functioned. 

The further down we went, the more our forces needed to split, wander through tunnels we couldn’t or weren’t sure if we could, collapse.

The further down we went, the deeper we delved into this… twisted, malformed place.

The further down we went… the less Geonosians we found.

It set my teeth on edge.

The Clones behind me wondered if perhaps we’d killed them all. If they finally ran out of bug-men to throw at us.

The Jedi knew different. Felt it.

This place was… wrong. Sick.

It wasn’t just Geonosians that were missing. 

There were no bugs.

Not a single insect I could add to my swarm.

And even those I brought with me, the smaller ones, withered, almost aging until their bodies broke apart in real time.

The Force… it felt… malevolent here.

The chamber was enormous, by far the largest we'd entered so far; if I had to guess, three maybe four hundred feet in diameter? Its ceiling was so tall I couldn't even see it with the lack of light.

Clones and Jedi spread out, weapons at the ready;

“Should we turn back?”

I turned my head- finding Luminara Unduli to be the one that asked the question, her features twisted in a grimace; her features pale and slick with cold sweat.

I didn’t blame her.

“We have to continue.” Kit Fisto declared beside her. “The Hive Queen can be the difference between a pacified world or one that will continue to drain resources to subjugate. Resources we might not be able to spare after so many have died just to get us here.

Luminara closed her eyes, almost as if the truth of the statement pained her before she nodded.

-Crack-

The sound was sharp, a stone tumbling on stone it echoed in the sepulchral tunnels. A dozen sabers snapped to life as a hundred rifles were brought to bear. 

I made the remnants of my swarm move forward, beetles, roaches and a dozen other things crawling along the walls, ceiling, and floors, flying gently through the air.

The scream came from somewhere behind us; it was a thing of absolute horror. Of pure, primal fear in a way Jedi hadn’t felt for millenia. 

“SITH SPAWWWN!”

And something, something with teeth and claws, twisted flesh and malformed muscles  lunged out of the darkness straight towards me; howling with hunger.

—

Plo-Koon

A cheer tore itself free of the clones surrounding him, weapons fired into the air as men watched the advancing line of droids be cut down practically where they stood; a field of shattered metal and white armored bodies lay behind them, Anakin driving ever further, causing ever more damage and horrendous casualties that would have broken an army of organics a hundred times over.

Plo-Koon turned away from the spectacle, rushed back to his place. Gathering himself from the spell of vacillation and doubt that had paralyzed him as he made his way back towards the command center. 

“I need updates-” He demanded. “Knight Secura’s unit!?”

“Sir.” 3636 stood, snapping a sharp salute. “Just received confirmation- the 104th has secured Knight Secura and her unit is retreating back behind the ridgeline.

The 104th… Skywalker had already been on top of things.

“She’s injured sir.” 3636 continued. “Badly.”

Plo took a breath. 

Injured didn’t mean dead…

“And the Riverbank?”

“A fast attack unit has slipped past our lines sir- they’re bypassing us. Its small, moving fast. I’m trying to scramble a response to head them off, or at least protect our rear. But the Bulk of them were hit and destroyed by the 501rst sir-”

“Get drones in the air, send out a warning to all nearby formations and bases. I’d rather they not get-”

Someone marched in behind him.

Plo-Koon turned his head. “Master Bulq!”

The Jedi Councilman nodded and a feeling tickled the back of Plo-Koon’s mind. 

“Master Plo-” Bulq nodded. “Forgive me- I must contact whatever men escaped, give them orders for a rally point-”

For a moment, Plo hesitated.

The feeling, his disquiet growing, staring at the Jedi Master even as Plo marched past him to make his way towards the commsman.

“Open a line please, broadcast to all units-”

Plo interjected. “Open a line to the men of Master Bulq’s 336th Legion only. With the chaos of the battle we cannot clutter the channels.”

He sensed something, a momentary flash smothered and gone too quickly to get a firm grasp on what it was, emanating from Bulq himself as Plo’s disquiet grew.

“Wait-” The Kel-Dor demanded.

“Sir-” 3636 called “-Getting a hail, priority message from Knight Secura.”

Bulq spoke over the man, his voice calm as he yanked the microphone from the clone and spoke directly into it. 

“To all Clones that can hear this broadcast. Execute Order Twenty.”

—

Yoda

The Darkness… swallowed them.

It was the only way to describe it.

It was a gaping maw, a sarlacc pit in the desert, hungry and waiting- and it simply let its prey wander into its open, yawning chasm of a mouth… before closing tight.

Yoda was not cut off from the light- never. But it was distant here, struggling to breach the suffocating, twisted blackness.

Knights and Masters followed behind him, wary and frightened. But still they followed him. 

He felt the moment the veil was thrown over his eyes.

But even he struggled to cast it aside.

He kept to his center; his being and sense of self, firmly entrenched, his mind a fortress. He felt claws and phantom touches brush across his thoughts, befuddling hexes and shadow curses falling like whispers on the wind.

He knew this.

He recognized this magic.

His eyes opened.

“Dathomiri.”

His voice was an accusation, cutting through the shade and cold air like a knife.

The shroud was pulled away, green veilfire receding back into the beings that had cast it, their illusion broken.

“The Grandmaster” One of the pale witches smiled, teeth black and eyes shining bright in the gloom. “You honor us with your visit.”

Yoda stamped the point of his stick into the dirt. “Your surrender, I demand.”

The Witches laughed.

They giggled and spun, circling him with leering faces and twisted amusement. 

“Sister- surrender he says. Arrogant say we.”

“Alone he is- His fellows ensnared.”

“Right you are-”

The saber was lit, casting bright yellow light across the gloom.

It swung.

It stopped.

The blade hovered nary an inch away from Yoda’s neck.

The grandmaster languidly waved his hand. The blade falling away regardless of how much its wielder struggled to resist. 

“Surrender, you should.” He repeated, casting aside his walking stick. His own saber rising into his hand; its green light casting long shadows across Yoda’s face as it bloomed to life “ For, defeat me- you cannot.”

Three more lightsabers igniting was their answer. 

—

Anakin

The Droids- broke. 

Their army still numbered in the millions, still outnumbered their own by so many.

But someone, somewhere must’ve finally decided the expenditure of resources wasn’t worth it. Leaving millions of droids to die uselessly was a waste.

And so, the machines turned- and ran.

They folded back into their tanks, remounted their assault craft and gunships, vulture droids banked hard and flew away, Geonosian’s fled back to their hives in all haste.

They won.

He heard the first cheers as the men howled in triumph.

Then he turned…

Just in time to see the first of the Clones put a gun to his own head.

(X)(X)(X)

And so- we've reached the crechendo

As you've no doubt noticed there are a lot of moving parts to this battle and we're not done. Shit, as you might have seen/read, has hit the fan on all fronts and the champions are set to finally face off on all fronts.

As you know there is a TV tropes page here:

https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Fanfic/TheWeavingForce

If anyone would like to expand on it it will be greatly appreciated and for the 3-5 dollar tiers there will HOPEFULLY be a surprise incoming in a few more days.

And we also have a Discord for those of you who'd like to join the advance discussion here:

https://discord.gg/fmWr8tee