The Weaving Force: Chapter 71 (Patreon)

Chapter 71:

Cal Kestis:

“I don’t care if it's with a lightsaber, blaster, or raw knuckles, you will never just lay down and die. Do you understand me!?”

“~Yes, Miss Hebert!~”

The call was shared between himself, Iskt, Karla, and Knight Skywalker’s Padawan, Ahsoka.

All four of them stood in the training room of the ancient temple, barefoot and dressed in traditional training clothes.

There were no training droids, no remotes.

Not even lightsabers.

All they had were their bare hands.

“I don’t get it.”

All eyes turned to Padawan Tano, and Knight Skywalker’s Padawan looked momentarily nervous at the fact that she’d spoken aloud before she stiffened her jaw and met Master Hebert’s eyes with a determined gaze.

“We have lightsabers. A-and we’re not gonna be punching droids in the head. That’s stupid. Why not practice with what we’ll use?”

“Are you only going to face droids?” Master Hebert asked.

“Well, yeah. The CIS only uses droids,” Ahsoka said.

“And the auxiliary sapients from the planets that want to break away from the Republic?” The woman asked. “The Lightsaber is useful, but hardly a non-lethal option in the heat of battle. Or does your lightsaber have a non-lethal low-power setting, risking blowing out your converter by constantly switching?”

“I… well-”

“Or the Death Watch Mandalorians? Will you be asking them to politely peel off that lightsaber-resistant beskar so you can fight them with your preferred weapon?”

Cal saw Ahsoka flinch. “I- its not-”

Master Hebert sighed. “Look,” she said, rubbing her head, “I get it. Lightsabers are strong. You’ve finally made your own blades and have just started practicing with them.” She pulled free her own saber, the curved hilt with its gleaming materials looking elegant in her hand. “You want to learn how to use them. And you think they’re all you need. But that’s just not the case.”

“She’s right, Snips,” Knight Skywalker chimed in from his place by the wall. “If I had to put money down on either Taylor with her bare hands or plenty of other Jedi with a hundred sabers, my money would be on her.”

“Ninety-nine percent of the time, they’ll work,” Hebert conceded. “Ninety-nine percent of the time, they’re all you’ll need to win the fight. To solve your problem. But what about that one percent? That moment when the sword isn’t enough? You need to be ready for that. I won’t let you be helpless.” She hooked the curved hilt back onto her belt. “Now, stand up, and let's do it again.”

—

Hours later, everything hurt. His hands, his arms, his chest, even the soles of his feet were sore.

Trandoshans grew larger, and faster, than humans. Iskt was already just a head shorter than Miss Taylor, and he had enough strength to fight his fellow Padawans in hand-to-hand many times over.

Cal was the only one who could even marginally keep up, but even being older and having been a Padawan for longer didn’t guarantee him victories against the much stronger Trandoshan.

Miss Taylor had dismissed them after several bouts. In two days, they’d practice again, and by the end of the week, she finally would let them practice their lightsaber forms.

He got the impression that it was meant to be a reward.

Still, the halls of the Temple were cold, even with the heating units and the mass of bodies of the clones and other Jedi giving off their collective heat. It wasn’t cold enough for him to bundle up, but it was certainly a close thing.

“I am not being pissy! The Senate is being a bunch of jackasses!”

Miss Taylor’s indignant voice made Cal’s ears perk up as he approached the room.

He heard miss Victoria sigh. “Tay, sweetie, pumpkin, baby doll-”

“Vicky, I swear-”

“It’s not unreasonable to make sure you don’t destroy every ecosystem we show up in by introducing a hostile, invasive species across planets.”

“We’re fighting a war,” Miss Taylor protested. “There are bugs in this galaxy that can eat steel and that I can literally set on fire. Hell, they’re practically made from fire! It's not like I can’t be careful and round them up when we’re done!”

“Ahem.” It sounded, at that moment, like Master Rancisis gave a very… polite cough. “Master Hebert, while I can understand your… zeal for effectiveness on the battlefield, the fireworm of Eol sha is perhaps… as Miss Victoria would say… overkill?”

Cal racked his brain for the name.

Then he winced.

Yes. He would classify a seventy foot beast wreathed in fire, and molten rock as ‘overkill’ as well.

“For what it's worth, ma’am, I’d give ya whatever you wanted if I was in charge.”

“Thank you, Guelzo! You people act like I’d just let 'em loose across the planet rather than use them when needed.”

“There, there, honey. I know. You’re the responsible one.”

Cal had enough time to march into the command room and see Miss Victoria quietly shaking her head behind Miss Taylor’s back.

“Vicky, I can still see you.” The brunette deadpanned as Miss Victoria’s impish smile grew, likely with just as much subtlety.

Master Rancisis turned at his entrance. “Ah, Padawan Kestis. Please.” The High Council member who had become Cal’s Master to… finish his training after Master Tapal’s death gestured to his side. Cal bowed respectfully before hurrying to join his Master.

“Anakin, Cere, and Luminara are close. Few more minutes,” Miss Taylor said; they must’ve been waiting on Master Skywalker and Master Unduli to begin the tactical meeting.

“Very well.” Master Rancisis nodded, turning to miss Hebert and Victoria. “Will your own Padawans be joining us?”

“Iskt and Karla have their own jobs right now,” Miss Taylor replied. “I’ll bring them up to speed on their roles later.”

“Let’s get Obi-Wan and Master Tiin on the holo,” Miss Victoria said, reaching over to activate the holotable.

It rang for a few moments before the blue image of both Masters emerged.

“Master Tiin. Master Kenobi.” Rancisis bowed.

“Master Rancisis.” Tiin nodded before looking around. “We’re missing some.”

“They’ll be here shortly,” Miss Taylor answered.

Right on cue, the door hissed open, the Masters’ voices trailing inside.

“I’m just saying, she might benefit given the situation we’re facing,” Knight Skywalker commented.

Master Luminara sighed, her eyes darting over towards Miss Hebert before slipping forward again. “I will think on your words, for now it seems we have kept our fellow Jedi waiting.”

“Not at all,” Master Kenobi reassured. “We only just arrived.”

The three newly arrived Jedi spread out around the table, and Cal felt the air turn heavy and tense before Master Rancisis stepped forward.

“Let us begin,” the serpentine Master said. “Master Hebert, if you would?”

Miss Taylor nodded.

“Kronos has confirmed our suspicions,” she said, “which corroborates some of our other contacts: the Shaker and the Lok Revenants. The CIS force moving to attack us here at Ilum is of comparable size to what came at us in Corellia.”

“Then our time spent preparing was well spent, indeed,” Master Tiin answered, turning away from Master Hebert to address Master Rancisis. “I can confirm the Shield fleet is in position.”

“Sword fleet is prepared to strike, as well,” Obi-Wan added. “Outside of this communication, all systems are dark and running on minimal power. Unless a probe droid stumbles directly on top of us, it’s doubtful they’ll spot us.”

“Who’s the commander?” Master Cere asked, turning towards Miss Taylor. “Was Kronos able to confirm that?”

“He was,” she answered immediately, “A Muun named Pors Tonith.”

“I recognize this name,” Master Rancisis said, his voice low as he laced his hands together. “His ability as a tactician is not to be underestimated.”

“Master,” Knight Skywalker cut in from his place between Masters Luminara and Cere, “I don’t mean any disrespect, but wouldn’t I be of more use serving with Master Tiin in the Shield fleet? My piloting skills are considerable.”

“They are,” the old Jedi conceded with a nod. “But even though our fleets are formidable, they will not be capable of stopping all landing craft, even with your prodigious skills in the cockpit of a starfighter, Knight Skywalker. The Separatists will be landing on Ilum; the only question is how many will get through the Shield fleet.”

The High Council Master leaned forward, the holotable adjusting to show a map of the terrain surrounding the temple.

“Knowing Commander Tonith’s tactics,” he said, “they will move to surround us on all sides. I will remain here, in the temple itself, in command of the reserves, directing the battle and utilizing my skill in Battle Meditation to aid our defenders and all of you to the best of my ability. To the north, sheer cliffs will force him to rely heavily on air drops, which will be intercepted by Master Dallon as our first line of defense, along with the Seventh Battalion.

The blonde Master gave a jaunty salute.

“To the west: the starport. It will be a priority for the droids to take, allowing them to drop more reinforcements if they succeed. Masters Junda and Unduli will take hold of that garrison with the First and Third Battalions. Master Hebert assures me she can hold any attacking force that attempts to cross the frozen lake. Sixth Battalion will be there just in case, but I have no reason to doubt her capability.”

The dark haired woman gave a curt nod.

“So, I’m holding the South?” Knight Skywalker deduced, if only by process of elimination as he began to pace in front of the table.

Master Rancisis nodded. “Indeed. The clones hold a great deal of respect for you, and I feel you are the best fit to hold the defenses there. If the starport does not fall, that pass is the only viable path for a land based army to reach the temple. It will see heavy fighting. The Second, Fourth and Fifth Battalions will be dedicated to holding that ground, and you will be their commanding officer.”

“I…” Knight Skywalker looked towards Master Kenobi for the faintest moment before he nodded. “I understand. They won’t get through.”

The map updated, holo-icons appearing, representing each of the battalions as they’d be deployed along with their commanders.

“General, sir,” Trooper Guelzo, the commander of Master Taylor’s personal squad, offered a sharp salute, addressing the old Master. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Granted, Lieutenant.”

“Commander Hebert has transferred command of Noble Team to you, sir. She wouldn’t do that without reason. What’re our jobs?”

Master Rancisis closed his eyes, leaning forward, his hands resting on the edge of the table. “As you know, Lieutenant, the number of Jedi is stretched thin. Especially while the Mandalorian assistance is still spinning up, having only just gone through the Senate.”

Cal remembered that. It had passed by an absolutely razor-thin vote, if he recalled right. Just one single vote, fittingly Corellia’s.

“You need commanders.”

“Reserve Battalions Eight, Nine, and Ten are without direct commanders,  The other Knights that have accompanied us have their own commands and tasks. Therefore; unless I was to formally grant command to the Padawans with us,” he paused. “I am… uncomfortable with such measures. Thus, your squad, as some of the most experienced of the clones, I feel would be a better fit.”

Trooper Guelzo turned his head, looking towards Miss Hebert, who gave a slight nod.

“We won’t let you down, sir,” he replied, giving one more salute before stepping back and standing at parade rest.

If Master Rancisis took offense at where the trooper’s loyalty really lay, he didn’t show it, instead turning back to business. “I’ve no doubt, Lieutenant. Now, let us go over what we can expect from the fleet battle-”

“Forgive me,” Master Cere cleared her throat, interupting. “But… I must ask why we’ve even proceeded with splitting the fleet as we have.” She gestured to the two Masters on Holo. “Why have we sent Master Kenobi to hide with almost a full third of our fleet battlestrength out of system? If both sword and shield fleets were present, the Seperatists might not even land, and damage to the temple might be avoided entirely.”

It wasn’t Master Rancisis that answered Cere’s question, but rather Obi-Wan himself.

“Well, you see, Master Cere,” he said, hands clasped behind his back, “it’s quite simple: our projections say we’re losing this war.”

Cal’s eyes snapped over towards Obi-Wan, and Cere and Unduli’s own surprise cut through the emotions clearly across the room.

Obi-Wan continued, “The droids are being replaced faster than our clones. With Corellia having been hit so hard, our shipbuilding capability is slowed down for at least a handful of extra months. And they have a much easier task of repurposing existing vessels whereas we need to scramble a fleet from scratch alongside the clones. We’re outnumbered in every theater. Land, Air, Sea and Space.”

“The fact is,” Master Rancisis voice was solemn and grave, “it isn’t enough to defeat them. Destroy every droid, and they’ll be replaced within a month, if that. Blast every tank. Two months at most. Only their ships are true, valued assets, difficult to replace. And thus they will never let them be placed in obvious danger without an escape plan.”

“Shield fleet is bait,” Master Victoria said with a note of realization in her voice.

“As are we,” Master Rancisis confirmed. “We need to bring this fleet in close, close enough for low orbit.”

“At which point,” Obi-Wan spoke up with a nod, “I arrive, and signal Master Tiin to come in with me after his initial retreat.”

“They’ll be trapped,” Master Tiin said.  “Sandwiched between our fleets and the planet itself.”

“And then we can bag the whole lot of them.” Master Obi-Wan rubbed at his beard “Destroyed would be… regrettable. Capture. Much more valuable.”

Capture? But why would they not just-

“You wish to mine the ships for their datacores.” Master Hebert said.

“Even more valuable than the fleet,” Obi-Wan chuckled, “would be the location of the factories that let them replace their losses entirely, no?”

—

By the time the meeting was over, Cal felt as though his head was spinning, going over the mass of information that had just been unloaded across that cold holotable.

He always thought battles were things decided on the field, In the grind of armies against armies, but that had barely been touched on in the meeting.

What had actually been discussed… was everything else. Things he’d utterly overlooked.

Master Rancisis talked about the battle in orbit, the battle on the ground, but then spoke on possibilities. The dozens of outcomes that could come from this fight, not just victory or defeat. Battles were rarely so decisive, he’d said.

The clones had been preparing not just for a fight, but for a siege, and not just for a siege, but for mop up operations, and not just mop up operations, but evacuation protocols. Every single possibility and outcome for the fight ahead of them had been taken into account and were being double checked.

This would not be another Corellia.

Hours had passed in a blur of statistical outlays, calculations, graphs, maps of the temple, of the surrounding caves and mountains, and more.

The food supplies for the entire garrison, both in orbit and planetside, how long they will last once nothing can be brought in from up above due to possible enemy air and orbital superiority. Where the food is stored. The durability of the storage silos, buildings and granaries. What weapons and theorized ordnance strength these sites could withstand.

Ration projections. Sustainable food ration planning, unsustainable food ration planning with appended lists of estimated casualties. What forces would be deemed… expendable first once starvation became a reality.

Fresh water wells, reserves and supply centers, how many are required to supply the entire garrison. How much water reserves did the fleet have in orbit? What groundside reserves are likely to be destroyed or even targeted with bioweapons; after all, droids don’t need water to function. What underground rivers and wellsprings were secured against such weapons. Which ones in or around the temple could feasibly be tapped if, and when, the need became too great.

Estimates of disease once the temple and defenses were finally attacked and casualties became too heavy to be dealt with effectively. Types of diseases, symptoms, severity, risk of contagion.

Lists of the available space in the medical facilities and endless reams of data of how each of these facilities was supplied, withering down to the most minute detail.

Numbers of newly deployed clones; ‘Shinies,’ as they were called. Which clones and battalions had seen action already, and which were considered hardened veterans like Noble Team. Training regimens and schedules for the clones garrisoned here, updated even now as the various Masters and commanders offered fresh reports on their clone divisions’ progress in various training courses.

The names of the clones that lead the individual squads. Their weapons, tactics, and specialities, assigning each of them in turn targets and districts to defend where they'd be most effective.

Ammunition availability… by the Force, the sheer numbers for the ammunition reserves.

Major logistical infrastructure developments in and around the temple came next. Freshly built roads and pathways winding through the mountains to make transportation possible, new landing pads and concourses to be used for effective redeployment to forward or fallback positions. Bunkers, shelters and caves below the temple that could be used in the event of an emergency breach.

The positions of anti-air, anti-infantry and anti-armor cannons. The placement of the generators powering these defenses. The status of the shield generators around each of the facilities. Their power outputs, their requirements. What would be the first systems cut if power needed to be rerouted to keep the shields online in the event of an orbital bombardment. The bomb shelters available in the event that the shields would fail, their capacity, and estimated casualty rates for when that capacity was filled.

On and on the simulations, calculations and predictions went.

Cal had never known so much went into war.

It was never just charging at an enemy. Never just the grinding of armies against armies.

His consolation had been that even several of the Masters had seemed overwhelmed, including Masters Hebert and Dallon, who always seemed to be ready for anything the war could throw at them.

The only Master that had seemed utterly in his element had been Master Rancisis.

And Cal understood why he’d been placed in command.

As everyone began filing out of the room, Cal jumped as Master Rancisis’ hand fell over his shoulder.

“Tiring, is it not?” his Master said.

Cal nodded, somewhat numbly. “It was, Master.”

The serpentine Jedi… sat back? Curled up? It was a little strange describing how the very tall snake man made himself shorter by coiling his tail into a circle underneath him.

“Cal…” he sighed, the whiskers of his voluminous beard ruffling. “This path you’ve chosen to walk. I understand your grief. But do you understand? Are you beginning to grasp what it means, my boy?”

Cal turned away, looking down. “I just… I want to be ready,” he said. “I want all Jedi to be ready… the best way to do that is for me to learn and then teach...”

“The Jedi’s life is not devoted to combat, Padawan,” his Master said gently. “It is a part of it. This-” he gestured towards the holotable, still displaying the map of the battle ahead of them. “-is only a small part of me, what I know. I understand your feelings, but you must also find something else beyond this endeavor you wish to undertake.”

“There'll be time for that after the war.” Cal pointed out.

His replacement Master sighed, long fingered hand rising to fall on Cal’s shoulder.

“Come, Padawan. We must rest for now. The battle will not begin tomorrow, but even so, we still have much to do.”

(X)(X)(X)

Karla:

“You alright, lil’ Commander?”

Weber’s voice brought her eyes to him. The scout and marksman of Miss Taylor’s squad had been disassembling and cleaning his rifle before he spoke, while Cid - just a few feet away - continued dutifully modifying and fine tuning his armor.

All of Miss Taylor’s squad had full beskar armor, refitted and reforged to look like standard clone armor, although it was painted black and gold - Miss Taylor’s colors - along with the heraldry emblazoned onto the side of their right shoulder pauldrons: a Kashyyyk can-cell bug. Miss Taylor had mentioned an ‘Atlas’ or something when the squad adopted it.

It certainly made them instantly stand out as the NobleTeam, recognizable as the last survivors of the Noble Battalion of Corellia.

She thought about remaining quiet, about saying she was fine, but in the end, decided against it.

She pulled Angelica up, placing the lovable bug onto its familiar perch on her head where it settled in with what sounded like a squeaky gurgle before she took out her datapad and started typing.

Miss Taylor was still probably listening after all.

“Can you be honest with me?”

Weber tilted his head. She could see on his face that he was confused and, perhaps, slightly concerned. Still, he nodded.

She hesitated for a second.

“Am I good enough to be a Padawan?”

The question made Weber’s eyebrows shoot up onto his forehead, and she hurried to explain.

“Iskt asked Miss Victoria and she said yes. But I never asked. And Miss Taylor never said. It just… kind of happened?” She felt the urge to sigh. “Did she just, I don’t know, pick me because Iskt was with Miss Victoria now? Like, just the convenient option?”

“Ya haven’t talked about this with her, have you?” Weber said, a small quirk to his lips.

Karla shook her head.

“The Commander doesn’t do anything without a reason. A good reason. And she’s always been honest,” he said. “If she didn’t think you could do this, you’d know. I promise.”

She wanted to believe that… but… well…

“Still, this is something you should be talking about with her, don’t you think?”

She typed out her answer. “She’s busy.”

“She’ll make the time, lil’ Commander; you know that,” he said.

…

“After the battle,” she finally said, promising it to the both of them.

He nodded, smiling. “Alright then.” He reached over, patting her on the part of her head that he could reach underneath Angelica… who then promptly latched onto his hand, offering a free hug.

“It tryin’ to eat my armor again?” Weber deadpanned.

She giggled.