Interlude: 1 The Clone Wars (Patreon)

Interlude: The Clone Wars - 1

CT-1337

The orbital war above Sullust had been raging for days. 

It wasn’t the largest battle the Republic had seen, not by a parsec. Geonosis still held that particular crown.

But it wasn’t a small battle, either. 

Around sixty Republic ships, about fifty or so Separatist vessels. 

They’d been slugging it out over this obsidian rock for Force only knew how long at this point.

Rumor had it that reinforcements were on the way, but he wasn’t sure. Maybe the Seps were hearing the same thing on their end.

All he knew was that his ship had taken a hit - a bad one - and he and a few of the boys along with their Jedi had jumped onto the escape pods before the whole thing went critical.

He’d seen the Conquest explode from the viewport of the pod. Its wreckage followed them down, burning in Sullust’s atmosphere. 

There might be a rescue party of Sullustans on the way. The rocky planet and toxic atmosphere were hell on comms.

“Best we can do, for now, is hunker down. Scouts!”

Two of his brothers answered, dressed in scout gear, scorched and battered from what must’ve been a close call just earlier. 

1337 didn’t recognize the clone giving orders. His armor was fancy, definitely a cut above the standard second generation trooper armor. Marked in black and red, with a decal on his helmet that reminded 1337 of wolf fangs. 

“Sullust’s terrain makes for plenty of caves. We need to find one and set up a proper station to treat the wounded, preferably something with only one entrance and room for everyone.”

“Got it!” His brothers answered with quick, decisive nods, rushing off as they began to search. 

The Wolf’s Head turned, looking over the assembled men.

Some were huddled around their Jedi General, Knight Akar, who’d been wounded during the escape, exploding shrapnel tearing through his right arm and side. The General was wincing in pain, eyes shut as medics tried to get him to speak.

The Wolf’s Head kept going. “Were there any engineers in the pod?”

“Aye, sir,” one of 1337’s brothers answered with a nod, standing at attention. “Ready and able.”

The Wolf’s Head nodded back. “We also need to find a way to boost our comm signal to send an SOS to our allies. Either up above or to the Sullustans.”

“I might be able to cook somethin’ up, sir, but not out here,” the engineer said, gesturing around towards the rocky outcroppings, lava flows and toxic air.

The Wolf’s Head seemed unconcerned. “When the scouts find a location to set up camp, then.”

“There were bound to be others,” another of 1337’s brother’s spoke up. “People who escaped the Conquest on other pods.”

That made their brothers nod, a mixture of worry, relief, and excitement flowing through the group.

But, 1337 noticed, it made the Wolf’s Head stiffen. 

“Were there more Jedi on the Conquest?”

“Yes.”

It was Knight Akar who answered. His brow was beaded with sweat, but his eyes were focused, even as his breathing through the mask was labored and slow.  

“Yes, other Jedi were aboard. I sense that they too escaped.”

The Wolf Head stood still for just a moment, shaking his head. “Let’s hope the problem I came here for doesn’t decide to follow us, then.”

—

The cave the scouts found wasn’t particularly large, but it wasn’t particularly small, either. 

There were sixteen people in their escape pod. The cave could fit about twice that number comfortably.

Already, the engineer was hard at work building a comm relay booster. Four troopers had been assigned to guard duties, with four others set to take over their shift in due course. The scout troopers were setting up advanced perimeter alarms and early warning systems while the medics kept taking care of Knight Akar.

None of these orders had been given by Knight Akar. 

All of them were handed down by the Wolf’s Head.

It would have been easy to chalk it up to wounds or lack of consciousness causing the Jedi to defer to the trooper, but he could see that even when fully awake and with all faculties, the Jedi General would defer to the Wolf’s Head. 

As other survivors trickled in from other nearby escape pods, brothers and their own Jedi, they too deferred to this one. 

It itched at the back of 1337’s brain, asking himself who this trooper was and why he was the one in charge here?

Outside, through the gloom of ash clouds and toxic haze, they could still see the orbital battle raging overhead. The lights of explosions and bursts of plasma fire broke through the overcast skies. 

After a while, he and some of the others were trying to guess how the battle was going just off the sounds and the lights. ‘That was a Venator turbolaser.’ ‘That sounded like a reactor going critical.’

It felt… like a spectator sport almost. Detached. Cold.

Even the thought that their brothers were the ones dying up there did little to pull the fight any closer to them down here emotionally.

Night on Sullust was little different from its day; the toxic atmosphere pushed away the light of the sun and the earth below was aglow with the red haze of lava streams 

He’d met Sullustans once or twice. They were nice. Hard to believe they came from this hell hole.

“Sir!”

The Engineer’s shout brought all eyes towards him, and the Wolf’s Head was soon brushing and shoving his way through the cave towards the jury rigged comms station. Two Jedi - one Knight, one Padawan - followed closely behind him. 

“Engineer?” It was a question and a demand all at once. 

“It’s spotty, sir,” the Engineer said, “but we’ve got a line. It might drop at any moment, so whatever you want to say, make it fast.” 

“Give our coordinates. Tag it with clearance code: Third Judgement. It’ll get it where it needs to go.”

The Engineer nodded. “Aye, sir.”

Outside, the skies continued to rumble. 

—

It was still days before they heard the first response… if one could call it that.

In fact, 1337 never would have known about it, if not for the three Jedi in their company suddenly stiffening, going rigid as Knight Akar struggled to bark out his orders. 

Word soon got around.

Ready weapons.

Something was coming.

Battered and bruised they might be, but they were still trained. Drilled. Disciplined. They were still soldiers.

Soon, every man had his rifle and armor on. The Wolf’s Head recalled the scouts, and their little cave was soon more akin to a bunker complex than a little hidey-hole on a blackened rock. 

1337 took his place on the defensive line, shoulder to shoulder with his brothers.

He recognized the descending ship as a Settie-class dropship. Its blackened hull glinted in the red light of the lava flow.

The ship’s loading bay doors opened.

And 1337 felt his stomach drop. 

Those weren’t droids.

The four that walked down the ramp were dressed in black robes, with lightsaber hilts. A female Zabrak and a… well, 1337 was pretty sure it was a Verpine, but all bugs looked the same, honestly. The other two were masked, though they looked human, even if that wasn’t a guarantee.

Either way, they didn’t look like Jedi.

He’d heard rumors, of course. They all heard rumors.

How Geonosis broke some of the Jedi. How their lightsabers turned red, how they joined the Seps, calling themselves Sith. Like Jorus and that bastard Bulq. 

Some said they’d been captured, tortured and mind controlled. Just sounded like an excuse to him, a way for the Jedi to try and save face. But everyone knew the truth.  

Frankly, 1337 was starting to think they’d be better off without these Jedi. Seemed to cause more problems than they solved. 

Even so, whatever they were, whatever they called themselves, the ones that descended down the ramp were now firmly their problem, and as the two Jedi knights and Padawan they had with them lit up their lightsabers, it brought little comfort. Even less when a squad of droidekas and super battle droids made their way down the ramp after them. 

“Master Sahdett,” Knight Aket called softly, the knight looking half dead on his feet, as if a stiff breeze would knock him over. “I would ask you to surrender,” he called. “Return to the Temple, let us help you and Knight Sey.”

At least 1337 had a name to attach to their attackers now.

The Verpine, Sahdett, snapped his mandibles, his voice mixed with a series of chirps and clicks.

“Come back? To You? You who left us to die? Who left us with him?”

“We did not leave you,” Knight Aket pleaded. “You were on Geonosis. You know what that was-”

“And who sent us there!?” the Zabrak woman snarled, her eyes glowing like embers, circles of black around them. “Who sent us to that hell!? All the while preaching about their vaunted principles of peace! Who ordered the clones, our Soldiers, to blow their own brains out while saying they value life above all things?”

“That was Bulq! A traitor-”

“You think the Council didn’t know!?” the woman hissed. “You think that he could sit beside Yoda, beside Windu, and they didn’t know!?” She laughed, the sound of bitterness and anger. “You naive imbecile.”

“If they knew, they’re monsters. If they didn’t know, they’re idiots.” The insect clicked and chirped. “Either way, they do not deserve forgiveness. They deserve what they gave the clones.”

The woman’s sneer showed off her sharp, predator teeth. “As do you, for just asking… asking us to come back. To return, to crawl back to that Temple, that broken, hollow husk of a place that breeds mewling rats and fools like you.”

Her lightsaber snapped to life and the droids readied their weapons as one, and 1337 and his brothers all tensed, ready to fight.

A single deafening bang rang out, and the woman swiveled her saber around to block, the sheer power of the shot sending her stumbling off balance.

Wolf’s Head stood off to the side, a heavy hand cannon smoking from its barrel. 

“He asked. I’m telling. One chance. Surrender, and things might not end badly for you.”

The woman smiled. “Oh, look, a clone in fancy armor who thinks he can stand up to us.”

“You cannot defeat us,” her partner said. 

“I like my odds,” the clone answered coldly. Then, he shrugged. “But no need… because they can.”

For a second, 1337 wondered what ‘they’ he was referring to, and prayed to any god that he wasn’t talking about them. Because he did not like his odds.

But then he saw the Jedi and the Siths’ stances change, as though detecting something for the very first time before whirling towards the east.

He heard it before he saw it.

And he only saw the outline of it before the cloaking field fell away.

The ship didn’t even stop, the bay doors simply opening before what looked like a man leapt out of the ramp.

It smashed into the obsidian stone with a crack of shattering rock, marching forward with barely a lost step.

A… Trandoshan?

A young, red skinned Twi’lek girl followed after him, descending on a jump pack, features cold and devoid of emotion, and behind her, five more of his brothers.

And these he did recognize.

“Sithspit!” the Zabrak woman cursed suddenly, looking far, far less confident. “Is that Noble?!”

“Hebert. She must be close.”

“Perhaps,” the Twi’lek girl commented stoically, the five members of Noble team fanning out around her and the large Trandoshan beside her. “Throw down your weapons and you won’t have to find out.”

“I don’t sense her, she’s not here!”

“We didn’t sense them, either,” one of the masked Sith reminded Sahdett. 

“Not until I wanted you to,” the Twi’lek replied. “Like I said: give up, and you won’t have to find out.”

“Her insects wouldn’t survive on the surface of Sullust!”  Sahdett screeched, the sound high and shrieking in his ears, wings vibrating at his back. “She’s not here! Take them.”

The fallen Jedi charged.

The Trandoshan met them.

1337 had seen quite a few Jedi fight. He knew what lightsabers could do.

It was the first time he’d ever seen someone insane enough to attack one head on.

It would be the last time he’d ever see someone catch it with their teeth.

The Trandoshan growled, his skin glowing cherry red, like the lava flows of the world around them. The air vibrated around him as the insect’s eyes went almost comically wide.

“Take them down.” Wolf’s voice called through the helmet comms.

Blue and red bolts spat out between droids and clones. As Jedi and red sabers hissed to life, the Zabrak woman lunged for the Twi’lek.

Of the other two, one charged towards Knight Aket and his fellows.

The last… turned and ran. 

1337 didn’t pay attention to him, turning his sights onto the super battle droids and droidekas exchanging fire across the expanse. He ducked when a wrist rocket sailed towards his part of the line, two of his brothers blown apart with the sound of death cries and shattering stone. 

1337 shook the ringing out of his ears, grabbed firm hold of his weapon, and again to continue firing. As he fought, he found the Twi’lek girl dancing around the Zabrak woman’s blade, and the Trandoshan grappling, literally grappling, with the Verpine, and it certainly didn’t look good for the Verpine. Claws raking across scales and thin limbs being overpowered by bulging muscle.

Just then, 1337 noticed Wolf’s Head, knife and gun in hand, hemming in and overwhelming the third Sith with the other Jedi.

—

“One ran.” The Twi’lek girl said, long after the battle was done.

“We should pursue,” one of the Knights declared. “If we catch him, he might… he might surrender, we can help him.”

Unlike the other three, were the unsaid words that 1337 could hear in his voice.

But Guelzo, the commander of Noble, shook his head. “No need.”

—

Danaan Kerr ran until his lungs burned. Until he was sure the heat from the lava flows and toxic atmosphere had pierced through his breathing mask, and that he’d die on this world anyway.

He was not willing to die for the Sith, any more than he was willing to die for the Jedi.

Still… It looked like the rumors were true. Noble and Hebert’s Padawans were being tasked with hunting down the Jedi captured on Geonosis. Good information that would buy him a ride off this world.

Catching his breath, he pulled free his commlink, trying to think of what to tell Separatist command, wondering if the orbital war had already been lost or won, if they’d even have a ship to pick him up off this rock. 

“Command-”

Static answered him.

“Command, come i-”

His voice died in his throat. 

There. 

A small, barely there fly on his sleeve.

A fly that should not survive on this world at all.

Something tickled his senses. 

He turned.

Fear choked him.

“Sahdett was right.” She said, sitting on an elevated rock, as though she’d been waiting for him. “My bugs can’t survive here. Not for very long…” 

Danaan knew her mastery over insects. The skill and near unstoppable power she could wield with a swarm of them at her back.

Without them… maybe he had a chance.

Her head lowered, shoulders slumping for a moment before she stood up, slowly, languidly. Her voice emerged calm and still from that mask. 

“I know what it is to fight when the odds aren’t in your favor-”

He didn’t listen, lunging with all the speed he could muster at that singular moment where she was vulnerable, where she was stepping down off balance and close.

Then- fire.

It burst across his hand, consuming the saber and fingers completely, he screamed as he let go of his weapon, the blade dying centimeters from her flesh as the cylinder clattered to the ground.

Flames rose up from the lava flows around them. 

“But,” she continued, “thinking of fighting a Pyromancer on a lava world.” She shook her head. “Desperation can only carry you so far.”