"Captain! The hyperspace drive is severely damaged! The entire artillery system is malfunctioning! Half of the antigravity units are operating at critical overload!"
Urgent reports rang out in the trembling bridge.
Zabrak warrior Lagnos strode across the deck, shaken by explosions, and hurried to the communication terminal. His voice was resolute: "Seri! O'Connor! Immediately withdraw your ships!"
"Commander, we—" A fragmented response came through the channel, interrupted by static and the roar of explosions.
"This is an order!" Lagnos roared. "Report the situation to Headquarters in full and withdraw immediately! Your ships are also damaged and could fail at any moment. It's pointless for all of us to die here. Go! We'll cover your retreat!"
Returning to his command station, Lagnos curled his lips into a fierce smile. "Full speed ahead! Ram the enemy ship! Prepare all torpedo tubes! Divert all remaining power to the turbolaser cannon!"
"What does the General always say? Let's dance!"
Meanwhile, Parker Gannam clutched a handkerchief with trembling hands, compulsively wiping the cold sweat from his forehead, the terror of death looming close.
The Republic ships' resistance proved far fiercer than anticipated. Although they had shot down two enemy vessels and severely damaged an Acclamator-class assault ship, their own losses had reached an unacceptable level.
Of the seven Munificent-class frigates, six had been destroyed. Three were obliterated by Hunter-class Star Destroyers, while the remaining three sustained critical damage from the Republic's Hailfire-class assault ship, which launched a suicide attack.
That same assault ship nearly collided with his Lucrehulk-class flagship. Even though it failed to strike directly, the torpedoes fired at point-blank range inflicted catastrophic damage.
The surviving ship, though not sunk, was heavily damaged and had lost most of its combat capability.
"Immediately report to Confederacy Central and request emergency reinforcements!" The Neimoidian's voice trembled uncontrollably.
"Roger! Roger!!"
The 00M battle droid promptly acknowledged the order and executed it.
And those Republic landing forces on the planet... Command will never forgive me for ignoring that threat. Let's hope they're small in number; otherwise, we're in for big trouble.
On the highlands of Jabim, Solo gazed at the slowly descending ship in the distance. The Beacon sliced through the cloud layer, its wake tearing through the surrounding rain curtain and making its silhouette starkly visible.
Several seconds later, a dull impact echoed from the distant horizon, but no explosion followed as expected.
"Commander H! Your unit is closest. Immediately dispatch a rescue team to the crash site and evacuate all survivors!" Solo's voice carried a hint of frustration.
"Understood, General!" Commander H's response came over the communication channel.
Solo leaned against the edge of the tactical table, his expression grave.
The situation had deteriorated rapidly. The severe weather had completely severed their connection with the Orbital Fleet, leaving them unable to learn the outcome of the battle or whether the remaining ships had successfully broken through the blockade.
Now, the ion interference was so strong that it had crippled all interstellar communication equipment, leaving them completely isolated and unsupported.
A strong aura of death emanating from the Force made him uneasy.
His gaze shifted to the corner where Ahsoka was curled up on a wooden crate, her arms wrapped around her head, her face pale.
Solo knew that after using Pota Grass to enhance her connection to the Force, Ahsoka's perception of the Force was growing stronger. Normally, this would be a sign of growth, but now it had become a torment.
She could clearly sense the pain of the lives that had been lost.
In the Confederacy's secret base, a holographic image of Alto Stratus, leader of the Jabim Nationalist faction, appeared before Count Dooku. His tone carried a clear provocation: "Count Dooku! The Republic has landed troops on Jabim! And at this critical moment, there wasn't a single Confederate ship nearby to stop them!"
"My friend, I never expected them to have the audacity to launch a landing operation right under our noses," Count Dooku said, his voice calm as ever. "I've immediately dispatched a reinforcement fleet to ensure your planet doesn't suffer such attacks again. What was the size of the landing force?"
"Not too large, probably less than fifty thousand," Stratus scoffed coldly.
"Then you have nothing to worry about," Dooku said with a reassuring smile. "You have the bravest warriors, and the number of battle droids we've provided is more than enough to overwhelm them. Eliminating this landing force will be child's play for you."
"I hope so, Count," Alto Stratus said, his expression darkening. "I hope such oversights can be avoided in the future."
"Of course, my friend, of course," Count Dooku maintained his polite smile as he cut the transmission.
The sky over Jabim grew increasingly overcast, low dark clouds completely obscuring the last rays of light, shrouding the entire plateau in gloom.
Lead-gray rain clouds hung oppressively low. The first lightning bolt ripped across the sky, followed by a torrent of raindrops pattering against the armored vehicles' roofs. A storm was imminent.
Bram hurried to the tactical table and reported to Solo, "General, the rescue team has returned. They successfully rescued approximately four hundred crew members, mainly gunners and technicians. Everyone on the bridge and upper deck perished.
Sixteen fighter pilots and forty-two LAAT crew members survived, with many injured. All other clone troopers were killed.
The current estimated casualty count is around five hundred, but the exact numbers are still being verified.
The Beacon crashed into a mud lake and is slowly sinking along the slope. It's expected to be completely submerged in three days."
"An inauspicious start. We've shed our first blood so soon," Solo muttered under his breath, feeling frustrated.
Damn it! This is going to be a tough fight.
"Master?" Ahsoka suddenly looked up, confusion etched on her face.
"It's nothing. I was just talking to myself," Solo said, shaking his head and waving dismissively. Using the Force, he projected his voice across the room to give orders to his troops. "All units, move out! Advance to the planned defensive positions!"
Three days had passed in the blink of an eye since the Corps landed on Jabim.
For the past day and a half, the entire army had worked tirelessly to construct the defensive perimeter. Even Solo and Ahsoka had to personally intervene, using the Force to move supplies and set up turrets.
Not all positions could be reached by hover trailers, and they only had two cranes modified from AT-TE chassis, which limited their efficiency.
The clone troopers worked tirelessly, fully committed to the fight for their survival. They churned through massive quantities of earth, hauled tons of stone, and built sturdy defensive positions in the mud.
The enemy discovered their traces the following evening.
Initially, the local nationalist militias attempted to break through the lines with sheer force, but were repulsed by concentrated firepower, with at least seven hundred casualties.
Having suffered this setback, the enemy quickly changed tactics, adopting a siege strategy and surrounding Solo's positions with trenches.
Solo could have ordered a salvo of Proton Cannons to flatten the enemy trenches, but he deliberately withheld this threat. Keeping the enemy pinned down at the forward positions could serve as a hidden asset to deter subsequent reinforcements.
After two days of assembly, by the fourth day, at least a hundred thousand battle droids had gathered outside Solo's defensive perimeter, supported by approximately twenty thousand nationalist auxiliary troops.
The enemy commander clearly believed his forces were sufficient to overwhelm the Republic Army and immediately ordered a full-scale assault.
Battle was imminent.
Most clone troopers remained concealed behind fortifications, waiting until the enemy advanced to within three hundred meters before opening fire.
The gunners of the DF.9 blaster cannons had long been on high alert. Now, they unleashed a torrent of firepower, each energy bolt whistling through the air toward the clustered enemy forces. In the distance, the thunderous roar of explosions echoed incessantly.
Initially, the gunners were to be ordinary clone troopers. However, some of the cannons were ultimately manned by survivors from the Beacon—crew members with relatively minor injuries.
For them, switching from naval guns to ground-based artillery presented a challenge, akin to transitioning from a high-performance war vehicle to a basic model. Yet their extensive combat experience allowed them to quickly adapt to the new equipment.
Rain pelted against their helmet visors, streaming down and pooling at their chins before dripping off.
"There's one thing you can say for sure about Jabim: you don't need a weather forecaster here," Solo said, staring through the sheets of rain, his tone impatient. "It rained yesterday, it's raining today, and it'll rain tomorrow. Even if it stops for a day, it'll start again the next. Who knows how long we'll be stuck here? We'll all end up hating this damn rain."
He stood atop a command-type Dominator tank with Ahsoka. The Togruta girl tightened her cloak around herself, muttering under her breath. The planet's damp, chilly weather clearly made her deeply uncomfortable.
"General, the Separatist robot forces have activated their main reactors, and there's unusual activity at the Nationalist positions," Commander Bram reported, tapping his helmet to activate the internal comms channel.
"Master, is it time to move out?" Ahsoka asked, though she continued to wear her modified comms device despite her complaints.
The engineer went to great lengths to ensure Ahsoka could use the equipment properly.
Togruta lack external ears and rely on their Montral organs for passive echolocation to perceive sound. The communicator had to be specially modified for her.
"Ahsoka, we've only ever fought robots before. You've never killed a sentient being— are you ready?"
"I'm ready, Master!"
Solo brought the binoculars up to his helmet, and the built-in Tactical Data Board instantly connected to the device. The enemy positions came into clear view.
Several kilometers away, scattered small foxholes appeared rudimentary and poorly constructed under the rain-soaked mud, hardly constituting proper defensive fortifications.
"All units, prepare for the assault," Solo ordered gravely. "Notify all trench units to go dark and stand by in concealment in three minutes— do not reveal our positions. All units, move to your battle stations!"
A minute later, Solo and Ahsoka returned to the interior of the command tank.
Bram removed his helmet and hurried to the tactical table, where Sumelagi was already hard at work, plotting possible enemy movement routes.
In the adjacent compartment, Lieutenant Miro was fine-tuning the communication equipment, preparing to transmit orders to all units.
To be fair, the lieutenant had done an excellent job. He had adapted the communication system to Jabim's unique environment. Though there was no video signal and the transmissions were delayed, it was still far better than being completely cut off.
"General, all tanks have reached their designated battle positions and are ready to launch the attack!"
"How much time until the attack?"
"Six minutes, Commander!"
"General, the enemy robot force has begun advancing!"
"Continue waiting for the right moment—wait—just a little longer..." Solo deliberately delayed the order until the enemy formation was fully deployed on the observation screen. Then he barked, "Now—move out!"
The Command-Type Dominator Tank roared to life, charging forward with a deep rumble, followed closely by the other nine tanks.
Along other sectors of the defensive line, five more Dominator Tank platoons simultaneously charged toward the enemy forward positions.
The ground battle on Jabim had officially begun.
Solo had spent countless hours before the landing meticulously refining his tactics.
How could he maximize the preservation of his forces while accomplishing the mission?
He combed through all available resources, searching for historical battle examples and useful clues, but found either no similar situations or incomplete records. In the end, he had to rely on his own intuition to devise a strategy.
After hours of meditation and logical deduction, a defensive strategy centered around aggressive firepower gradually took shape, its core dependent on the terrain conditions of the landing site.
The "dig in and defend the base" tactic used in Donovia would be completely ineffective here.
The disparity in forces was overwhelming, and the separatist nationalists' sabotage activities were impossible to guard against. A single misstep could spell disaster.
Yet launching proactive attacks was equally impractical. They needed a secure rear to establish a safe zone for treating casualties, storing supplies, and serving as a support point for withdrawal, reorganization, and equipment maintenance.
Moreover, their limited manpower and unfamiliarity with the terrain made reckless assaults highly likely to end in ambushes.
The final plan was as follows: upon landing, quickly establish a secure zone. Exploiting the enemy's delayed reaction and the harsh Jabim environment's hindrance to troop mobilization, construct a base around a strategic high ground.
Hidden among the cliffs and ridges of the highlands was the Hunter, repurposed as a mobile medical base. With its engines shut down, all power was redirected to the medical equipment and shields.
Surrounding the medical base were storage depots and barracks, covered in stone and rubble for protection.
Beyond these, three concentric rings of gun emplacements were positioned. Between the emplacements and in front of them, foxholes were dug, and stone breastworks were erected.
Not all areas were suitable for digging, and heavy rain could easily flood the fortifications.
Through this defensive layout, they controlled several square kilometers of Jabim's territory.
In terms of force deployment, Solo decided to split his forces.
Two Clone Trooper Brigades, along with half the A5 Juggernaut Tanks, AT-ATs, AT-TEs, S-130s, nine AATs, and half the AT-XTs, were tasked with defending the base.
Among these vehicles, the hovercraft had to maintain extremely low altitudes, as ion discharges could occur at heights of just fifty meters.
While walkers could function on the rocky highlands, they were essentially immobilized in the planet's muddy terrain.
"You can't assign a Master Yoda to every vehicle, can you?"
Solo silently scoffed to himself.
The rest of the forces consisted of two Clone Trooper Brigades, supported by sixty Type A6 and sixty A5-class Sovereign Tanks, along with the remaining "Sabre" tanks and AT-XTs, forming the assault cluster.
Although it was unwise to have Command participate in the offensive in their Command-Type Dominator Tanks, these vehicles were fundamentally combat vehicles. Staying in the rear would make them an easy target for enemy forces and attract the attention of enemy sabotage units. By actively advancing to the front lines, they could instead serve as decoys.
According to the tactical plan, when the enemy launched an attack, the assault cluster would meet them head-on, tear open gaps in their formations, and penetrate to the rear. After defeating the Separatist Confederation forces, they would return to base to replenish ammunition and rearm, then sortie again when the enemy forces attacked again.
Though this tactic seemed crude, it was well-suited to Jabim's actual conditions.
The sensation of charging in a Dominator Tank was somewhat peculiar. Although these tanks had the drawbacks of inferior off-road mobility compared to walkers and reduced maneuverability compared to hover vehicles, these shortcomings were significantly mitigated by Jabim's perpetually muddy terrain.
Although the Type A6's firepower didn't quite meet expectations, its armor protection was exceptionally robust. According to the specs, most of the Separatist Confederation's tanks couldn't penetrate its armor. Even the AT-ATs used by the Empire on Hoth had armor far inferior to the A6's.
Solo later learned that the AT-ATs deployed at Jabim were crude imitations. It wasn't until Maxmillian Wells re-designed them based on the Type A6 "Dominator Tank" blueprint—increasing their height by seven meters, adding the distinctive dorsal bulge, and enhancing their armor and firepower—that they became the backbone of the Imperial Assault Corps.
This meant the A6s had virtually nothing to fear from the Confederacy's mainstream tanks, such as the AAT and NR-N99 robot tanks.
Even if they encountered IG-227 self-propelled guns armed with anti-tank missiles, the worst they'd likely suffer would be damaged wheels. It would take a volley of thirty missiles to potentially immobilize a single A6 tank.
As for robot artillery and small-caliber weapons, they posed even less of a threat, lacking the power to inflict any real damage.
With their massive fourteen-meter wheels, the A6s could crush lighter targets like B-1 battle droids with devastating efficiency, making them mobile roadrollers.
At that moment, ten Dominator Tanks raced through the rain, their treads churning through the mud and spraying it into the air as they charged straight toward the enemy's scattered foxholes.
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