The spacious tent barely moved under the strong gusts of wind. Fighters in once-white armor, now stripped of any factory cleanliness, hurried past. Dark clouds were gathering over the Republic camp; it looked like a thunderstorm was coming.
I wonder if my new cloak will protect me from the downpour, or if I'll have to teach the new supplier a lesson? Although Koven asked me not to beat them up... Ah, I'll decide based on my mood. A light touch brought my attention back to the happenings inside the tent.
"...At the moment, we are engaged in a war of attrition in the sky. So, we can't count on reinforcements. If we crush the 'tin cans' fortifications in this part of the city, we will establish a beachhead for orbital defense. That will give us the advantage."
A clone in white armor, painted with black and yellow stripes, with his helmet in his hand, explained the new objective to us in a businesslike tone. Holstered on his belt were copies of my DC-17 blasters. It was hard to believe that this man and I might be the same age. He leaned over a holomap depicting one of the city districts.
"Commander, tell us exactly what you want from us."
Koven, clad in Mandalorian-style armor, with a rifle strapped to his back and a pistol on his hip, made a formidable impression. His helmet, with special slits for his horns, gleamed with a metallic sheen in the rays of the setting sun.
"I need your group to infiltrate and destroy this objective."
The clone pointed with two fingers to a spot located in the center of the unfolded map. Stepping closer, I saw it was a fortified droid fortress situated slightly away from the main action.
"It is well-guarded. If necessary, we will organize a diversion and provide you with vehicles."
"I am more interested in what can be plundered there. Everything as before? If the risk doesn't justify itself, I won't lead my people."
The clone hesitated, then answered, "Yes, everything except two shield generators. I know there are three of them there. One is more than enough to defend the base; please hand the others over to us."
"No problem, Cap."
"I am CC-3452, sir. Please address me according to regulation. Do you have any other questions?"
"No... Cap. Well, we're off. Go kick up a fuss in our absence."
No matter what anyone says, this kind of war is a profitable business for looters. Just by looting enemy forces and salvaging equipment from the battlefield, we can get enough to buy a couple of brand-new CIS frigates, and that's no joke. Plus, the captured fortresses are already being actively converted into our bases. I sense there will be a major realignment of forces after the war.
There was an agreement among the groups: everything captured from the battlefield is ours; others have no right to claim it. For example, the Red Moon Pirates already stole a Munificent-class frigate right from under the nose of CIS forces. Rumor has it they bolted into Hutt Space to upgrade that machine.
The Chemists were less fortunate, but they currently held the largest captured fortress. However, it seems we might soon displace them if tonight's operation is successful.
All the senior officers gathered in our hideout, located in the catacombs, around the holotable where the base map was displayed.
"It will be difficult."
"That's an understatement. Eight watchtowers, seven-meter high walls, and only one gate. The walls are constantly patrolled. Forty droids are routinely stationed on each wall."
"And the shield will deploy in a couple of seconds, closing the base off from bombardment."
"I don't see any problem."
I rose from the armchair where I was comfortably lounging, sipping a cocktail made from something that tasted like an orange.
"We'll do it as usual: a special team led by me will simply open the gates from the inside, and then everything is routine."
"Forgive me, Shaman, but this time I disagree with you."
The newcomer, a Zygerrian sentient whose race originated from the feline species, leaned on the table from the opposite side of me. His gang had merged into ours some time ago, bringing fresh blood. Now, his fighters made up the majority of the special team.
"The security is too tight this time. Even if you manage to survive and possibly open the doors, the guys will all be wiped out. We will lose seasoned, capable people."
How dare this creature contradict me! Rage lashed at my brain. My hand began to clench into a fist. I could already hear his vertebrae crunching, and his body was about to lift from the floor.
Someone's hand, the Boss's, was placed on my shoulder. My body relaxed, and the tension eased. The Zygerrian rubbed his neck discontentedly, trying to express his disdain, but I felt the fear emanating from him.
"This time, Nadir is right; the guard is too good. We need a different plan."
"And what if we shhstretch their forces to two poinshshts and shtrrike from the rear?"
The second newcomer, a Trandoshan reptilian sentient, entered the conversation. He was much more useful, extremely cunning and agile. He planned all the most profitable operations for capturing warehouses and fortresses.
"We attack in the rrreopen, they hardly have a tactical drrroid."
"Agreed," the Old Man said, marking a couple of points on the map. "As far as we know, there is one battalion of droids in the fortress, plus all the minor stuff. In total, no more than seven hundred 'tin cans.' If the gates can be opened from the inside, nothing will prevent us from taking the base. Especially if the Shaman and the special team are in their rear."
"Many of our people could die in a frontal assault. I do not agree," Koven stubbornly looked at everyone present.
"We'll send in tanks."
I was tired of listening to their bickering; I craved a new battle. If they didn't agree, I would force them.
"We have heavily damaged equipment, right? Let's use it as a mobile shield. If we attach repulsors underneath, even that junk can be lifted. Most of them don't even need that. You're not being asked to attack stupidly; you just need to create the illusion of an attack. And if some idiots die, it will only be their own fault."
"Yess... if the shpecial group disablesh the shieldsh from inshide, then we can launch an airr strike."
"You're right, lizard. We have mortars provided by the clones. We just need to transmit the coordinates of the 'tin cans'' clusters, and that's it. In and out, a twenty-minute adventure."
Everyone looked at Koven. His words still held weight in this group, but probably not for long. The mask concealed the predatory smile that crossed my lips.
"The final plan is this: the main forces make noise at the front gates, using damaged CIS equipment for cover. Meanwhile, the special team, led by the Shaman, infiltrates from the rear and opens the gates for us, simultaneously disabling the generators. Any objections?"
No one answered.
"Then let's start preparations. At the latest, we must leave tomorrow. As far as I know, the Chemists are also planning to seize this fortress. I saw their leader when we were leaving the headquarters. We need to hurry, get to work."
In silence, everyone dispersed to their positions. As for me, I needed to practice battle precognition again. Seven hundred droids is a lot, a whole lot.
Although my skills had increased due to constant practice, I still struggled to evade three blaster bolts. The realization that I was afraid of some 'tin cans' enraged me. A couple of chairs audibly compressed into rubble.
Slightly calmer, I continued to reflect. I think I'll take the blade this time, no matter how unpleasant it is. I hope I won't need it; thankfully, I shoot excellently. So, I can consider this an exciting walk to the firing range ahead. Well, another fun night awaits. Whistling some tune, I headed deeper into the corridors.
A cool wind blew over my body. Alarming sounds emanated from the darkness of the half-collapsed building. Somewhere, a window creaked mournfully, or maybe it wasn't a window. Cold bricks pleasantly cooled my feet.
We had holed up on the tenth floor of a concrete behemoth that had miraculously survived the war. True, part of the building had collapsed, perhaps from a stray shot, or perhaps it was just poorly built. But now, that was to our advantage. From here, there was a wonderful view of the fortress below.
Bright beams of searchlights sliced through the darkness of the night, darting back and forth. The distant metallic hum of footsteps in the surrounding silence was surprisingly clear. In the watchtowers, the separatist droids' heads could be seen turning from side to side through binoculars.
The high walls created a seemingly impregnable fortress; one wall stretched for a little more than half a kilometer. Machine-gun nests protruding beyond the walls were visible like black blots against the illuminated fortress. Inside, small, almost toy-like columns of mechanical killers walked back and forth.
"Shaman, I don't like this idea. What if a searchlight spots us or something else? Maybe we should go old-school, on foot, and climb the wall there?"
Without waiting for my answer, a phrase was thrown from the depths of the room.
"Don't whine, Cruist. Everyone knows you're afraid of heights, that's why you don't advance in the ranks, you're afraid of the height of a title."
A few chuckles came from different directions, but no one truly laughed. Everyone was worried. This was the first operation of this scale.
"Shut up, Vas!" Cruist snapped, a scrawny guy about twenty-four, the best slicer at our disposal. He carried practically no weapons, just a couple of pistols, more for appearance. His task was one: to unlock the gate in case of emergency. "Otherwise, I'll cut off your cat ears and sell them on the black market."
"And who would want them there? Does anyone actually buy them?" came from the far corner. Rofte sat there, a huge man with a chest-length beard and an electronic eye. A cigar glowed brightly between his teeth. With his right hand, he lovingly stroked his Z-6 rotary blaster cannon, honestly stolen by him from the warehouse of our friendly clones. He says he fell in love with the weapon the moment he saw it. Some say he even sleeps with it and calls it Bertha.
"I don't know, Rofte, but furry lovers will definitely appreciate such a gift, or Vas will buy them himself."
"I'll cut Cruist's off, too, and then we'll trade back."
"Go to hell."
"I'll gladly go to your beloved Shilla; let her pour me a drink in honor of another successful raid. Right, gentlemen?"
This time, Vas's tirade was met with approving shouts from everyone, even Cruist himself. They were mostly just messing around for show, too. Vas was a surprisingly sincere character with his own moral principles. But that wasn't why he was with us: he was a good shot, a good driver, a decent pilot—a general-purpose dilettante. He was a medium-height guy about twenty, with black eyes and hair, and a blaster slung over his back. A light chest plate protected his chest.
"That's enough from you." And then the Old Man, the curator of this whole mess, joined the conversation. "Ten-minute readiness. Let's go over the plan one more time. You don't mind, Shaman?"
"I don't mind."
I was in an unexpectedly good mood now. The normally irritating conversations just drifted past. The feeling of the impending fight was exhilarating; the Force pulsed within me in dark waves, striving to break free. Just a little longer, and I could enjoy the battle, just a little longer. How slowly time was moving.
"The signal will be the destruction of the tower closest to us. Immediately after that, the shield will be activated, and our soldiers will march, almost, toward the enemy, but staying out of range of the fortress's guns."
"What if they all get wiped out, or the attention is instead drawn to the tower?" someone from the team asked.
"What happens next is irrelevant; everything is calculated, and the attention will be completely concentrated on the opposite side; it's not our concern. We must disable the shield generators and open the gates. And if anyone interrupts me again, I'll deduct their raid bonus. So everyone shut up and listen. On command, we grapple onto the remains of the tower and comfortably reach the fortress wall. The shield only blocks blaster bolts, but everything else passes through it smoothly. We've checked it more than once, and the Republicans said the same thing. We'll be done in twenty minutes. The Boss promised each of you a percentage of the revenue, depending on your merits, of course."
Satisfied whispers circulated throughout the room. They talked about something else, but I wasn't interested. I vaguely felt a growing alarm. Something was wrong.
Scanning the horizon and the fortress below once more, I noticed a black speck flying from the upper city toward the fortress. A couple of seconds later, four more specks became visible. Is it a convoy? I should warn them.
"Hey Boss, we have uninvited guests here."
"We see them. Four Vulture-class droids and one small transport. What the Sarlacc brought them here? We didn't account for an air attack."
"Should we fold?" The fighters sitting in the room fell silent and watched our conversation closely.
"No. We received reliable information that the Chemists are also targeting this fortress; they'll attack tomorrow, or rather, today, since it's past midnight. They want us to clear the way, and then they'll come in for the ready loot, the sons of Krayt. But they can capture it themselves. We only have one chance; getting into a fight with them now is not in our best interest."
"I understand you, but hold our forces back."
"Of course, I won't send my people into the unknown. We'll wait. Maybe these things will fly past or go somewhere else."
"No."
"Why do you say that?"
"I feel it."
"We don't have a choice anyway. We need this location. Act as soon as we destroy the tower. Dismissed."
Briefly relaying the conversation to the guys, I began to watch the enemy. They landed, but after half an hour, the fighters left.
"It's our lucky day, guys," Koven's satisfied voice sounded in my earpiece. "We proceed according to plan. Apparently, the loot will be much more interesting if it was escorted with such pomp. We proceed according to plan."
Almost immediately after his words, a blue flash cut through the night darkness, and the tower closest to us was illuminated by the explosion's flame. Blaster bolts sparkled in the distance. An alarm siren blared over the fortress. The shield, shimmering in the darkness, began to deploy, completely covering the base from our attack.
Through the binoculars, it was clearly visible how columns of droids were converging on the opposite wall. It's time.
Firing grappling hooks and securely fastening the ropes, we began to descend toward the fortress in groups of three. Cruist was trembling, but a hefty kick from the Old Man left him no choice: either hold on or fall from a great height.
The first part of the plan went smoothly. By the time I landed on the wall, the guys had already taken positions and neutralized a dozen sentries remaining on this section.
But the next part would be more difficult. The command center was located nearby, but we had to enter it without making any unnecessary noise. If the group was spotted during infiltration, it would be the end of everything. But what did I care about that?
The thirst for battle completely overwhelmed me. My task was to create chaos and distract the 'tin cans.' I would gladly occupy myself with that.
Waving my hand to the guys, I waited until they disappeared into the building. My hour had come!
Poking out from behind a pile of crates, and barely aiming, I shot the head off a passing droid. Of course, it wasn't alone; nine barrels synchronously turned. But how slow they are!
Two more shots, and I ducked behind cover. I felt the remaining 'tin cans' slowly approaching. The Force flowed through my body. Tensing, I jumped three meters into the air. Four blue blaster bolts caused another portion of the enemies to slump into lifeless piles of scrap. Roll, shoot. A red bolt that passed close to my cheek scorched my mask, but it didn't matter.
More, I want more!
Forgetting all caution, I lunged forward. Another group of droids appeared before me but immediately vanished, shot at practically point-blank range.
The nasty siren blare spread over the station. A blinding searchlight beam found me.
No one can resist me! I will grind anyone who stands in my way into powder! A group of several droids rushed toward me. A blaster bolt flew an inch from my hand.
Bastards!
A high running jump, and I landed in the center of the column. How stupid they are! Power boiled within me, demanding release. With the Force, I ripped the blasters out of the nearest droids' hands. A slight movement, and the weapons killed their former masters. Some didn't even have time to turn around. Deadly weapons hovered around me, sowing death everywhere. One droid somehow escaped the deadly storm surrounding me. A lunge, and my hand punched through its body. Painful, but how good it feels. I watched the blood ooze from my bruised knuckles—a trifle, I could move. Where are the other enemies?!
The droids standing in the distance turned around. I had to jump from side to side. It was becoming too difficult to hold the blasters, so I grabbed the two closest ones and shot those from whom I felt the greatest danger.
A minute later, I stood alone, surrounded by piles of metal scrap. I mentally noted the final score. Forty-seven. Not bad, though not a record.
The siren was still blaring, but I saw the gates slowly opening, and the shimmering shield field falling away.
The outcome was predetermined.
My fight had somehow imperceptibly moved toward the transport that had recently been delivered here. I wonder what's inside?
Lightly stepping over all the remains of bodies, I approached the doors.
At the last moment, giving in to instinct, I barely dodged a blade. A moment later, and my head would have been split in two.
It was a droid, but I hadn't seen one like this before. It resembled a person much more than the usual CIS machines. Smoothly standing up, the droid looked at me and rushed toward me with unexpected agility.
A jump into the air. You won't reach me here. But a metallic foot slammed into my side, sending me into the ship's wall. Impossible! Ordinary droids don't jump that high!
The feeling of danger flared up again; the blade almost killed me.
Rolling away, I got to my feet. Now the enemy wasn't alone; three more machines jumped down from the roof of nearby buildings. Not every sentient could boast such agility. I was being professionally pincered. Well, you cursed 'tin cans,' let's see who wins.
I raised my hand and shot at the nearest enemy. It dodged the shots from my pistols with a sharp sideways lunge and responded with a burst from its blaster.
A jump helped me evade the salvo, but two droids on the edges jumped with me. I dodged one blade, pushed the second away with the Force, and while it was falling, shot it in the torso.
What?! The machine stood up as if nothing had happened; only a few scorch marks appeared on its hull. A saber whistled past my chest. Leaning back, I realized I had made a mistake.
I had to jump aside from a blaster shot. But the third droid almost severed part of my wrist. Pain concentrated in the wound like a throbbing lump. What incredible sharpness the blade has! I think my bone is cut.
The pistol fell from my reflexively unclenched fingers.
A desperate leap to the side, but metallic fingers found me and threw me to the ground.
I barely managed to pull my head back as a mechanical fist left a small dent in the floor where my forehead had been a second ago.
I managed to throw the droid off me with the Force. But before I could get up, a finely vibrating blade caught up with me.
With eyes widened in horror, I saw the blade approaching my face. A sticky fear gripped me, just like that night.
I managed to slightly move my head. The mask absorbed the impact but shattered into two equal parts that landed on the floor with a dull thud.
Memories of that terrible night flashed vividly in my mind. Black figures, the night, the breath of death on my cheek. A blue dress rushing past.
No, no, no!!!
The Force compressed the droid, turning it into a pile of scrap metal. A metallic sphere flew into another robot. It dodged, letting the debris pass over it, but I had expected this.
From the blackness of my cloak, the lightsaber hilt leaped into my hand. A swing, and the body, severed in half, fell to the ground. Two were left.
I felt shots flying at me. A step to the side, and they all missed. One of the droids lunged toward me, but the Force slammed it into the concrete; it wouldn't run around anymore.
Another shot flew toward my head. The hand holding the saber deflected it on its own. Somewhere on the edge of my consciousness, the thought slipped that I hadn't been able to do that before.
I ran openly toward the last enemy, deflecting a couple of shots along the way. The droid backed away with a jump. You won't escape! A throw of the lightsaber forced the robot to dodge, but I was already next to it.
A terrible blow embedded its head into the concrete. Through the damaged armor, many different microcircuits and wires were visible. As was my white bone—apparently, an open fracture. It's nothing, it will heal.
I suffered so much fear because of you. Rage blurred my vision, and I began to frantically beat the body. Tears streamed down my cheeks. The connection with reality was lost. It was as if I was back in that night.
A light breath of wind touched my cheek.
"Set."
A melodic, barely discernible voice, like the ringing of bells, sounded very close.
What?! Turning sharply, I saw nothing. Only for a second, it seemed to me that a barely visible blue spot disappeared into the shadows of the nearest building.
What the Hutt is going on?!
I didn't have time to fully grasp it. At the last moment, I heard a metallic scrape.
A sharp pain in my abdomen forced me to look down. A dark blade was visible beneath my cloak. Dark blood was running from the piece of metal sticking out of my body.
A kick to the back made me fall onto the cold floor. A dark figure bent over me, blocking the light from the surviving searchlight. Two soulless, unblinking oculars looked directly at me. There was nothing in that dead gaze. A terrifying emptiness.
Through the pounding of blood in my ears, a mechanical voice reached me.
"Jedi eliminated."
Consciousness was fading. I guess this is how I die. What a stupid death. But that's not what occupied me now.
Behind the droid stood a short female figure. A blue dress barely swayed in the night breeze. My mother's warm eyes looked at me reproachfully, but the same love was visible in them.
The last thing I saw was the droid's head suddenly bursting into a pile of fragments.
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