**Chapter 838: The Silent Strike**
**Scene 1: Alpha ARC-17 – Puck POV**
"Just a little more... Just a little more... Just a little more... Now to the left..."
The Puck, hurtling downward at incredible speed, adjusted his flight with short pulses. The final target had already been marked with a marker and helpfully highlighted on the helmet's internal display. The Katarn-l1 armor's rocket pack was significantly different from the same device on the first model, not to mention the packs of standard rocket troopers. It was easier to control. It had a larger fuel capacity, and even something like folding wings, increasing flight stability. However...
"Okay... It's time to brake... I said brake... Fuck... Bitch-bitch-bitch-a-a-a!"
He was two hundred meters from his target when he activated the main engine, turning his feet toward the surface. The city's towers were already visible to the naked eye—and rapidly approaching. His speed dropped slowly, as he'd managed to build up quite a bit of speed. Hitting the sloping side of a tower, Seventeenth plopped down on the latticework of that damned balcony. The metal structure creaked pitifully. Creaked again... The frost-covered frame cracked, and one of the "floor" sections nearly collapsed: it was held in place by a cable some smart aleck had tethered right there on that very platform. However, Shayba immediately thanked the stranger, as the sturdy cable had also kept him in place.
"Banty's crap! I wish I could shove that... that... woman in here and just do it. I'd like to see how she would get out of this situation."
Having climbed onto a relatively stable section, Shayba pulled himself up, finally establishing his footing. Looking up, the clone caught the moment the protective field activated: it was as if a thin film had momentarily obscured the sky. "A standard shield, Separatist-made," he automatically determined. This was indicated by the reddish tint the surrounding landscape acquired.
"I'm here. Commencing penetration," Shayba muttered to himself and headed off in search of the desired door. A couple of minutes later, he found it. Reaching for the thermal cord, Seventeenth considered for a moment. What if? Grabbing the flywheel, the clone leaned on it. The handle yielded, and after two turns, the door was open.
"It's just a holiday."
Stepping inside, the clone found himself in a narrow corridor lined with numerous pipes and cables. Consulting the diagram, Shayba shed his now-useless jetpack and, holding it outside, closed the door. Then readied his blaster carbine.
Five minutes later, he was already at the right place. Behind that wall—a built-in thermal scanner indicated the presence of sentient beings in the next room—were his targets. Having identified the most vulnerable section of the wall, the major began attaching the thermal cord, using a second one at the same time. Actually, one would have been enough, and he had four more pieces of this boarding explosive in reserve, but he decided to be on the safe side.
"Three... Two... One!"
The cord flared, burning through the durasteel with a high-temperature pulse. Surely everyone in the room was staring in bewilderment at this fireworks display. Seventeen kicked the oval piece out and immediately launched a pair of grenades inside: an ion grenade and a flashbang. Flash, roar, flash, roar. Penetrating the hole, its edges glowing with hot metal, he began firing. His targets were four Muuns, coughing convulsively and rubbing their eyes. "Pew-pew-pew-pew." Look around, finish off the swarming droids—"pew-pew,"—block the door…
The Muuns went down in seconds, their expensive robes stained with blood as they collapsed over their command consoles. The droids—mostly B1s with a couple of B2s—spun toward the breach, but Puck's carbine was already singing. Precise three-round bursts dropped the B1s like tin cans. A B2 charged forward, wrist blasters firing wildly, but Puck sidestepped and put a bolt through its central processor. The super battle droid crumpled with a mechanical whine.
"Room clear," Puck reported over the encrypted channel, voice calm despite the adrenaline. "Command node neutralized. Transmitting data burst now."
He moved quickly through the room, planting charges on the main consoles and communication arrays. The Neimoidian command staff had been caught completely off-guard—the planetary shield's southern sector was now wide open, and the Republic's airborne forces were already pouring through.
"Extraction in two minutes," the pickup team commed. "Hold position."
Puck allowed himself a small grin beneath his helmet. "Copy. The party's just getting started down here."
**Scene 2: Devastation Bridge – Anakin POV**
Leaning my hands on the side of the tactical table—the tension of the last 24 hours was taking its toll—I, along with other officers, listened to Lee Noriega's report, which was already coming to an end:
"…So, at this moment, all units of the 260th Brigade have landed in Zafar. They will support the advance of the 'thousand-man legions'—the 95th and 96th—in districts three, five, and twelve. The 242nd Brigade is already engaged in fighting in districts eight and nine."
"Excellent work, general," I praised her. "Now we can breathe a sigh of relief…"
Santorini's plan had succeeded. Puck had masterfully infiltrated the enemy city and taken out the Neimoidian command. After receiving his signal of the operation's success, we began the invasion of the city. Pellaeon's squadron of ships hastily moved to the designated location and launched torpedoes at the city, destroying the shield. Shuttles and gunships carrying clones and equipment followed closely behind, literally side by side. Two legions, previously under the command of Cass Todd and Mac Lotor—the 1095th and 1096th—were allocated for this operation. They were slightly battered from previous battles, so their combined strength numbered just under thirty thousand clones. But that should have been enough for the initial strike. After securing a beachhead, we began deploying two brigades of auxiliary troops.
It was now the third day since the operation began, and the fifth since we'd begun waiting for the signal from the "courier." If all went well, we'd take this city in ten to twelve days, after which we'd think about how to take the rest. The forecasts for the fighting in the capital were less encouraging: the enemy could resist for three weeks to a month and a half. Perhaps, once we'd finished with the secondary cities and freed up our infantry units, we could redeploy them to Dzhigat. They should tip the scales in our favor, even if only slightly.
Anakin straightened, rubbing the back of his neck. The bridge of the *Devastation* was a hive of controlled activity—officers coordinating fighter waves, ground forces reporting in, logistics officers managing supply drops through the breached shield.
"The airborne corps has secured the southern bridge network," a clone officer reported. "Fourth Elite is pushing hard toward the garrison complex. Minimal resistance so far—most Neimoidian forces are still trying to reorganize after the command decapitation."
"Good," Anakin said. "Keep the pressure on. We don't give them time to breathe."
Lee Noriega's hologram flickered beside him. "The 260th Brigade reports they've linked up with the airborne elements. They're expanding the beachhead now. Casualties are light—under five percent across the board."
Anakin allowed himself a small nod. Puck's infiltration had been the key. Taking out the central command node had thrown the entire Neimoidian defense into chaos. Without coordinated orders, the droid armies and organic guards were reacting piecemeal—easy prey for the Republic's coordinated assault.
"Orbital support is holding," Piett added from his station. "The Silencer Venators have neutralized most of the heavy anti-air batteries. The sky belongs to us."
The tactical display showed Republic forces spreading like ink across the map of Cato Neimoidia's capital. The southern districts were firmly in their hands, and the push toward the center was gaining momentum. Dropships and gunships continued to ferry in troops and light armor, while TIE squadrons provided constant air cover.
"Keep the momentum," Anakin ordered. "We take the capital, and the rest of the planet falls. This is the heart of the Trade Federation. Break it, and the CIS loses its financial backbone."
The officers around the table nodded, determination clear on their faces. The operation was unfolding better than expected. Puck's daring strike had bought them the element of surprise they needed.
Anakin leaned back slightly, feeling the weight of command but also the thrill of progress. Dagon's plan was working. Neimoidia was falling—and with it, a major piece of the Separatist war machine.
**Scene 3: Expanding the Foothold**
On the ground, the Republic advance continued without pause. Clone troopers from the 1095th and 1096th legions poured through the secured bridges, supported by Rhino tanks and AT-RT scout walkers. Neimoidian militia forces—mostly organic guards with a scattering of droids—tried to mount counterattacks, but they were disorganized and outmatched.
"Push forward!" a clone sergeant shouted, leading his squad through a smoke-filled plaza. Blaster fire erupted from a nearby building, but Republic return fire suppressed it quickly. A Y-wing screamed overhead, dropping a precision bomb that silenced the enemy position in a thunderous explosion.
In the command center Puck had cleared, Republic technicians were already working to turn the enemy's own systems against them. The planetary shield's southern sector remained open, allowing wave after wave of reinforcements to land safely.
High above, the *Devastation* coordinated the entire assault. Anakin watched the tactical map update in real time, green icons spreading across the capital while red ones winked out one by one.
"General," Lee Noriega's voice came through. "The 242nd Brigade reports they've secured district nine. Linking up with airborne elements now."
"Excellent," Anakin replied. "Tell them to push toward the commerce towers. Cut off the Neimoidians' escape routes."
The battle for Cato Neimoidia was far from over, but the Republic had the initiative. The Trade Federation's homeworld was bleeding—and the Dragon's forces showed no sign of slowing down.