Chapter 131:
Maul:
Rage is a hell of an anaesthetic.
But it can only run so far before even a Sith’s body begins to slow.
His shattered, mangled arm throbbed with every beat of his heart, the blood coarsing through the twisted limb. Something in his chest hurt as well, broken, torn or pulled he had no idea.
The armor had proven more useful than he could ever have given the original owner credit for, a stim painkiller had been in one of the bandolier pouches and Maul took the brief moment’s reprieve to pull the device free before stabbing himself in the thigh with it.
The effect was immediate, dulling the pain, a flood of adrenals rushing through his system, his fingertips tingled, and his heart pounded like a sullustan ash rabbit fleeing from a predator
He couldn’t feel Kenobi behind him, though the Jedi Master was still on the ship.
The cyborg was still here too, the echoes of slaughter whispering through the halls from elsewhere on the Venator.
‘Brother, can you hear me?’
Savage’s voice crackled through his earpiece just as Maul began to hear the pounding of armored boots ahead of him.
“I hear you Savage.” Maul grunted.
“I have a ship! Tell me where you are!”
“No.” Maul barked, igniting the saber as the Clones rounded the corner.
His feet began to clank over the metal floors, pounding hard as he charged.
The Clones opened fire and through the sheer rush of adrenals they almost seemed to be moving in slow motion.
Maul barely even bothered to deflect, manipulating his body to slip through the volley of fire, mechanical limbs digging into the walls and ceiling as he leapt, finding purchase and odd angles that threw the clones off the lot of them scrambling to track him, continuing to fire just as Maul lunged his body twisting into a corkscrew dive, saber spinning like a buzz-saw blade, tearing gouges across the durasteel hallway before finally ripping into the squad.
Men screamed, limbs, heads, torso’s and weapons were severed. As the men died, Maul ripped into their final, desperate thoughts, tearing past the shattering defenses of their minds to extricate the pantomimes of information he needed, a collective picture being formed in his mind from the myriad of deaths, painted by their final, harrowing screams.
“No?!”
He began to run again, metal legs clanking as he rushed through the halls towards the nearest hangar bay. “Get back down to the planet! Get them out. I’m on my way to get my own ship now!”
A pause.
“As you say brother.”
—
Komari:
She cursed, the blood leaking down her shoulder, arm and chest, turning the inside of her suit and armor sticky and sucked into her flesh.
The bullet, an actual bullet, probably lodged now somewhere in her scapula judging by the pain- made moving her left arm all but impossible, she’d lost one of her sabers and the thunderous bang from the weapon shot at near point blank range had nearly deafened her in one ear, it was still ringing.
She’d never fought Noble directly before, and it seems that their reputation as accomplished killers of Force users was not exaggerated.
Even if she hadn’t strictly been trying to run away rather than kill them… she wasn’t entirely sure she’d have accomplished the deed and be able to claim she walked away whole.
“You look like hell.”
She opened her eyes, glaring up from her place at the base of the tree towards the Mandalorian, whose armor was covered in grass stains, scorch marks and a distinct blaster scoring on his chest, definitely more powerful than a standard blaster.
She jutted her chin forward, gesturing towards it. “That?”
“Disruptor rifle.” Ramah grunted.
“Like yours.” She noted.
He nodded, throwing said rifle onto his shoulder on its sling before offering her a hand. “What’d you call those chakaar?”
“Noble team.” She answered, throwing out her hand to accept the offer of help. “Hebert’s loyal little dogs. Though… Hebert wasn’t with them.”
He shrugged, one arm coiling around her waist to help her walk. “Either way, they don't play around. Disruptor rifles are illegal in the Republic last I heard.
They were, though she doubted that had concerned Hebert at all.
The skies rubles and the both of them turned their gaze upwards to see a Venator punching down through the black atmosphere, its massive body disrupting clouds and its anti grav signature dispersing the towering pillar of black smoke from the fields of fire around the massassi temple.
After a moment, turbolasers along the ship’s underside began to fire, low output yields, artillery to cover the extracting troops, nothing designed to crack the surface or glass the forest.
“Looks the the Republic wants their men out.” Ramah noted.
She nodded.
Her earpiece crackled, a direct uplink to fleet command coming to life, a back door communique she wasn’t strictly speaking, supposed to have.
“Droids of the fleet. This is General Grievous-”
As the words spilled from the Cyborg’s voice box into fleet command channels, giving his new orders, Komari felt her eyes going wide.
“Get us back to the drop ship.” She said, straining to keep her calm and not show the Mandalorian exactly how close to panicking she was. If he caught on, he might just leave her. A Jetpack was faster than hobbling. “We need to get off this rock.
—
Anakin:
Anakin stood on the bridge of the Resolute, and though he tried to convey calm, he couldn’t help but pace, back and forth, infront of the primary viewport, watching the unfolding battle as his ship plunged straight into the heart of the Seperatist fleet, all guns firing in every which direction. He wished, desperately to be behind the pilot stick of a fighter but frankly, there were no fighters that could match his now damaged one in performance and thus, he would simply be more useful here, no matter how much he compensated factory settings with his own skills behind the proverbial wheel.
The Seperatist fleet was on the backfoot now, Tactical droids were great when they accurately predicted what you were going to do, but they didn’t adapt well to surprises or ‘bold gambles’
And yeah, he’d gambled.
His own men had looked at him like he was insane when he demanded they squeeze the Venator through the very tight, central ‘doughnut gap’ of the Lucrehulk to reach and cover the Negotiator’s descent. He could almost hear hulls grinding together with how close it was.
But they’d gotten through, the helmsman following his directions exactly.
He’d give the man a raise. Maybe a vacation. With how green he’d looked after the maneuver he likely deserved it.
But now they were in the heart of the fight, the Resolute now acting like a Lolth cat let loose into a hen house. The enemy ships returned fire of course but Anakin was deliberately ordering the Venator to move between each vessel, in such a way that the thinnest part of the immense ship was presented to the sides with the greatest armament on the enemy Munificents and Providence class ships that way, those mass weapon batteries had to take that split second longer to confirm targeting arrays, or risk missing, or worse, hitting their allies on the other side of the Resolute’s hull. Stops didn’t stop just because they missed after all.
It let him, as Taylor or Vicky would say ‘Min Max’ his advantages, causing the most chaos, the most disorganization in the enemy fleet, just as his escorts began to join the fight.
They likely wouldn’t win, led by a droid or not, they were still heavily outnumbered.
But- they likely wouldn’t be bombarding the planet any time soon either.
“Helm, turn port seventy six degrees-” He barked over his shoulder, the ships navigator nodding as he input the command, just as a crackling comline blared through a nearby station.
‘Resolu-Nego-Resolute, Negotiator, Come in. This is General Obi-Wan Kenobi.’
Anakin whirled around to the comm aray. “Clean that up immediately!”
The trooper hurried to obey “Yes sir!” He said as Anakin approached.
“Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan can you hear me!?” The youngest councilman called, leaning over the troopers shoulder.
“I hear you Anakin.”
“Where are you, have you extracted!?”
“I’ve extracted, I’m on the Glory;”
“The Glory!?” Anakin balked. “How the hell did you wind up there!? Grievous is on board.”
“Yes I noticed.” His Master answered in a dry tone of voice that let Anakin almost see his expression like the man was standing right infront of him. “Maul is on board as well.”
Anakin blinked.
“How’d that happen?” He mumbled. “Didn’t think a legless man could jump that high.”
And yes, he could also imagine Obi-Wan’s expression as he answered with a very exasperated- “Oh my god!”
Anakin tried to smother the smile. He failed.
“I’m taking command of the Glory. We’ll do our best to join you But we’re dealing with two guests tearing up the inside of the ship. I’m hanging up now.”
—
TX-27
It was not possible for the TX series to have emotions. They were above such primitive and base things. As a droid designed as the premier, Military, Strategic, Analysis and Tactics function- made to dominate every single aspect of warfare TX 27 would forever acknowledge the importance of such a design feature. Information, clear concise orders and decisive action won battles. Not emotion.
But, if it were possible. If the notion were to be entertained at all, then TX posited that the emotion he would mostly be feeling right now, would be rage.
General Grievous was a fool. A blind imbecile ruled by organic impulses and base chemical drives that he did nothing to control.
The Battle had started off well. They’d slipped into the system undetected and hidden in the shadow of the Yavin gas giant for their approach. From there, if the General had only listened they could have deployed a tight formation and engaged the enemy fleet in orbit.
Yes, the Republic Ground forces would have had time to fully evacuate, but by every metric, they would have been weaker in the void. Invincible Dallon might be but she still needed to breathe. If her ship was destroyed, so was she.
And Jedi Hebert was equally much weaker in space, with no access to insects and limited ability to propagate her flames she would have just been ‘another Jedi’, not the infernal monster currently blotting out half of his orbit to ground screens with a heat signature that was sending errors through his targeting array.
Only Kenobi and Skywalker were equally, or more formidable in space than they were on the ground. With one being a supreme fleet commander and the other being the best pilot on statistical record going back at least a millennium of accumulated data.
But no, the General had decided to attack in haste, ‘split their forces’, attack the fleet while their strongest were trapped on the moon, destroy the fleet, trap the ground forces, and then bombard them until the planet was glass.
Not a bad plan in theoreticals. But every part of its execution was flawed, haphazard and supremely botched in every conceivable way!
He’d forced the Lucrehulk into a micro jump within spitting distance of a gravity well. A minor miracle that the vessel wasn’t sheared in half by the forces exerted on it, it had still been damaged, near 13.277% of the carrier’s total battle strength, both ground and void based, lost before the first shot had even been exchanged. The Lucrehulk had been over extended, isolated, and even though it had delivered its full complement of ground and void combatants before the Republic could pounce on it- they still lost the heaviest and largest vessel in their fleet for almost zero benefit.
The only good thing that could be said about the gambit, is that Grievous had removed two pieces from the enemy’s board. Skywalker in a pilot seat, and Dallon’s Venator, ‘Glory’, currently crippled, dealing with the rampaging cyborg monster currently tearing through its insides.
But one ace pilot and one Venator was not equal to the lost value of an entire Lucrehulk. Not even close.
Add to that the General’s lack of contact now that he was tearing through the Glory, it left the entirety of the fleet engagement in utter chaos, with no real plan.
At least, if TX hadn’t been here to cover the organic’s failures.
He took immediate command of the fleet, and realizing that Skywalker was the one in charge of it, not Kenobi, he knew within two minutes and thirty seven seconds exactly, how best to manipulate the situation.
Skywalker was skilled. Capable. But aggressive. Almost pathologically so.
And so, TX ordered the fleet to keep away from the Republic fleet, exchanging fire as they took cover behind the corpse of the floating Lucrehulk, who’s body could at least be put to some use to enact his plan.
The exchange of fire was sporadic, and the time was valuable to let him fully organize the mess General had left him into a proper formation and update the orders for their ground forces beyond ‘Tie the Jedi down’
Then, Skywalker’s aggressiveness finally showed itself.
And he overplayed his hand.
He’d split his fleet, the two remaining Venators leading the charge on either side of the Lucrehulk derelict, as if TX would simply allow himself to be enveloped in a crude, obvious pincer movement.
It had been so predictable, so… simple.
The order to concentrate fire on the Negotiator and its escorts with the full might of the fleet had been nearly academic. Obvious.
The whole fleet wheeled about, and rushed.
TX had calculated that there was only a 32.36% probability that Skywalker would do something foolish, like try to squeeze his fleet between the rings of the derelict’s center gap to rush to his allie’s aid, and only a 12.9% chance of such a maneuver being at all successful to begin with.
It was a mathematical improbability that anything of the sort should happen let alone work…
And yet-
The insane, stupid organic had done exactly that.
Not only that, but he’d ordered the negotiator to plunge down to the planet below, its arrow shaped front dipping so low, TX almost wished to dedicate processing power to calculate its odds of being shorn in half when the helmsman tried to pull up the mass of metal and weight from its free fall in atmosphere.
If only all of his current processing power wasn’t being dedicated to salvaging his own fleet.
The Resolute, like its sister arrowhead, had lanced itself directly into the center of TX’s fleet, all batteries and broad side canons firing at everything and anything, the reckless, insane manuever exposing it to fire from every angle, its shields no doubt under tremendous strain, but the droids were rapidly trying to compensate their firing solutions, trying to not miss and hit their own allied ships. For the moment, the Resolute had none of those disadvantages and was firing from every barrel until the tips were glowing red hot in the cold void of space, turbo lasers, auto-cannon’s, flak guns, proton torpedoes. Even their point defense weapon batteries were firing pell mell into the surrounding fleet.
Two Munificents that had been caught closest to the insane fleet master’s ships had their shields crippled, a third was practically rammed by the pointed prow.
It was insane, and as TX finally got a handle on the situation the escorts fully joined the fray plunging in from behind the resolute at the fleet’s right and from the front, where they’d previously been following the Negotiator.
And then, a fresh wave of fighters was disgorged from the Resolute’s hangar bay.
TX’s processors ran at full capacity, calculating, re-calculating, assessing and reassessing, the rapid, minute to minute changes straining his capabilities.
Then- a hail.
“Droids of the fleet.”
Oh no.
“This is General Grievous. Divert power to tractor beams-”
Tractor beams? What cou-
“Plunge the Lucrehulk down to the surface of Yavin!”
—
Vicky:
Her fist plunged into the core of a Vulture droid, sheer momentum ripping her arm free as the rest of the ship kept going just as her shield flickered out for a split second.
She heard a rumble, the dark skies above parting like a beast bursting out of the ocean and she saw a Venator almost dive bombing. Its angle so harsh she worried one had been shot down somehow, before she noted its engines were still lit, and its hull was undamaged.
She flicked through holo-channels, opening a priority link to all three Venators- “Fleet, this is General Dallon, who the hell is swan diving through atmo right now!?”
A moment of static, punctuated by the feedback of blaster fire and explosions.
“General Dallon, Orders are to get you out now fleet movements indicate Grievous is attempting an orbital bombardment on your positions. The Negotiator will facilitate your escape. All evac units are to converge on it immediately!
She took a second to glance down at the forest below, glowing on the horizon like a second sun was a blaze that devoured the area surrounding the Massassi temple, a Pillar of black smoke so wide it took up the whole skyline that she could see to the north.
That was… paradoxically good. It meant that Taylor was definitely still alive.
Beneath her Droids advanced on the ever shrinking island of clones, she kept the skies as clear as she could above the temple grounds, letting drop ships touch down and take off with scores of men in record time.
At a glance, of the ten thousand clones that had dropped down, maybe only a thousand were left, including her silver wing guard. The Beskar clad elites were forming a loose ring around the survivors; their beskar plate forming a living wall of armor between the blasters and the far less armored clone troopers still evacuating behind them.
A LAAT Gunship began to rise, more clones loaded into its bay Vicky loosely followed alongside it, a single Jedi escort as Vultures and Hyena’s swarmed around them like buzzing flies.
“Aras.” She called, switching channels to her second in command.
“Dallon.”
“We have to leave, now Grievous is gonna try to bomb us from orbit, get people on those ships and on the Venator immediately I don’t care if the jet pack troopers have to carry their brothers out we need to get off this rock now!”
… Understood.
She switched channels one more time, back to the Venator in the sky.
“I want a ship dispatched for General Hebert from the Negotiator immediately!” She demanded. “Lock onto her transponder.”
She could fly. She could rise up to that Venator at any point.
But if Tay was caught in an orbital bombardment…
“Right away General.” The clone trooper at the other end acknowledged.
—
Anakin:
Something was wrong.
Anakin knew ships. Even the large ones he couldn’t directly pilot.
The separatist ships should have been putting up more of a fight than this. Their gun batteries weren’t firing as often as they should, the Republic fleet was getting away with absolute murder, two more of the munificents had been destroyed, and the shields on one of the Providence’s was practically collapsing now.
It was as if they were all diverting power to other syste-
“GENERAL! GENERAL!”
The trooper’s voice was… fearful, no, it was downright panicking, and as Anakin turned to look at the man he saw a Clone who’s eyes were wide as dinner plates.
“What is-”
The Lucrehulk sir!” The man sputtered out. “It’s descending!”
Anakin’s heart fell down to his feet.
He almost demanded a confirmation and re-check of the systems, but the Force told him the words were true- so he didn’t waste time with that rounding on the primary comms trooper.
“Update orders for all ships, activate tractor beams, we have to delay that crash as long as we can! Tell the Negotiator to get out, Now!
The clones scrambled to obey, rapidfire orders being delivered to every ship, even so, Anakin knew, at best he’d only buy… what, two? Three minutes?
His brain scrambled for an answer, some way to mitigate the damage. “Order all vessels to open fire on the Lucrehulk! Break as much of it as possible! If we shatter it to pieces the tractor beams might have an easier time holding the main body for longer.
“Sir- it’ll be raining fireballs down on the planet below, the collateral-”
“Better that than just giving the Negotiator three minutes to get out of the way!” He shouted.
Just then, the ship rumbled.
“Sir! Separatist vessels opening renewed fire!”
Anakin snarled, teeth grinding together “How long before it breaches the atmosphere?”
“Three minutes sir!”
Three minutes. Yavin’s atmosphere was a ‘normal’ one, capable of containing oxygen enough for the jungle moon, doing a fast mental math, from atmosphere to ground with air resistance in mind, a free fall could take anywhere between three and four more minutes to impact.
They had six minutes to get everyone the hell out of there!
—
Obi-Wan:
Obi-Wan reached the ship’s secondary bridge controls,, more colloquially recognized as ‘Starfighter control’ since that was its primary function when the ship had a working bridge.
Karla and Iskt, injured and battered though they were, remained at his side, both by his order, and likely for the comfort his presence brought. Both of them were being tended to by Clone medics and there was a medic hovering around Obi-Wan too, but he didn’t have time to be injured right now.
Grievous and Maul were still on the ship, tearing through the men sent to intercept them. Obi-Wan would not risk going after either of them and leaving the bridge exposed. Either men were dangerous, and if they felt cornered this is where they would come first.
A part of him almost wanted to let them leave, get at least one off the ship so they only had a single gundark to deal with. But as exposed as they were, as injured as they were, this was the best oportunity to capture one, or both.
“General?”
The clone waited semi patiently beside Obi-Wan, and the Jedi General took a second to look over ship diagnostics.
Grievous had done damage, and rerouting the power to bridge controls here was taxing enough, but he’d use every scrap of power to do what needed to be done.
“I want all sectors of the ship to enter immediate lockdown, seal all blast doors. Standby to vent sectors on my command, seal off the hangar bays and withdraw all our boarding parties to critical systems.Engineering, life support.
A clone commander turned, looking at him curiously. “Sir?”
“No clone is going to kill Grievous, and Maul is needed alive.” He stressed the word, almost for himself rather than the clones. “Withdraw them to critical points that must be defended. But otherwise I’d rather not send men to their deaths needlessly. Divert remaining power to long range turbolaser, provide Anakin firing support from here.
The clone snapped a salute. “Aye sir!”
“Sir, priority hail from the resolute!”
“Patch it through!”
The holo plinth lit up and he could see Anakin in blue pixels- immediately, Obi-Wan knew something was wrong.
“Anaki-”
“They’re dropping the Lucrehulk!” His former student shouted. “I need all ships to fire on the Lucrehulk, activate tractor beams! We have to slow it down, Taylor and Victoria are still down there!”
Obi-Wan could almost feel the blood draining from his face, an echo of that same fear shooting through Iskt, Karla and the entire bridge crew that heard the words.
They could not lose Taylor and Victoria!
“Belay my previous orders for power dispensation, trooper! Obi-Wan declared, immediately. “Reroute all power to the engines, then the weapons and tractor beam systems. Get us in range!”
“Sir- The tractor beam can only function with the hangar bay doors open.”
Damnit…
“Lock them down for now.” He answered. “We’ll release the lockdown when we’re in range for the tractor beam effort. But I’ll save Hebert and Dallon over capturing those two any day.
And from there, there was no more hesitation.
—
Guelzo:
“Go! Go!” His armored fist banged twice over the LAAT’s closing door, the Gunship taking to the sky with a howl of its engines as Guelzo brought up arm, speaking into the comlink.
“General, ground forces are almost fully extracted ma’am. Its time to get you out of here too!”
The only answer that came through was the crackle and whoosh of flames. The skies above were choked with thick black smoke, and flickering between the plumes, the incessant wingbeats of insect birds and swarms of piranha beetles, giving the gunships a screen of covering escorts. The separatists kept sending down electric discharge emitter droids, but the fighters and gunships got the memo quickly that those were priority targets, so they didn’t get close in the air, and the ones on the ground were quickly melted to slag.
Still, it didn’t sit well with him. They’d already built that monster Grievous to fight General Dallon. This was just the first step to try and fight Miss Taylor. They were lucky that here there was no collateral to worry about.
“General!” He called again. “Please respond. We need to extract-”
There was a whoosh, the flames along his right parting like a silken curtain.
Miss Tayor walked out of the fires, wreathed in them, tongues of flame coiling around her shoulders and cloak like serpents before guttering out, yellow eye lenses shining in the gloom before she glanced up.
“The Negotiator?”
Her voice was rough, dried out. As much as she could protect herself from the worst of the burning, the sheer heat must’ve been unbearable.
“Yes ma’am.” He answered with a nod. “Orders are we need off the ground ASAP. Not clear on how the fleet battle’s going but we can’t bank on it being in our favor if they’re sending her down here to get us.”
She nodded, ‘Call us-”
“General Hebert. General Hebert please respond.”
The call was staticky, but Guelzo answered it as quickly as he could. “I’m with the General, speak soldier.”
“Sir, this is Pilot CT-28980. Sent down with specific orders from General Dallon to extract General Hebert! Transponder signals are unclear with all the… the fires and bugs sir. I need your exact location!”
Guelzo did a quick check on the Trooper’s ID number, verifying that with an uplink to fleet command database and noting that, yes, orders were given for such. This wasn’t a trick for a targeting lock.
There was a sudden, thunderous rumble from overhead, like a million explosions going off and Guelzo brought his eyes up.
He didn’t need to be Force sensitive to get the feeling that suddenly every single living being on the planet got the same sinking feeling in their stomach.
“Sending you my coordinates now.” He answered after a second. “Hurry trooper.”
Guelzo looked to the last of the clones behind him, all of them staring up, weapons down as the sky was blanketed by a sea of fireballs descending down on them.
And just beyond that, a large growing shadow blocking out the stars above the Negotiator.
—
Ahsoka:
As every single warning alarm and holo-comm blared in a cacophonous pandemonium across the whole of the bridge Ahsoka felt an almost unnatural calm fall over her mind.
She knew the Lucrehulk was descending rapidly, already the fragments of the ship were pinging off of the Negotiator’s shields, Master Skywalker’s fleet was taking a beating just beyond it as they diverted more and more power away from the weapons and to the tractor beam to try and slow its descent, buying a few extra precious seconds.
But there wasn’t anything Ahsoka could do. Nothing she could change for the battlefield at large.
All she could do, was keep the hangar bay doors open as long as possible, until the very last second to give everyone a chance, their only chance to survive.
And to do that. To give them a chance and keep the men under her command alive… it demanded that she keep a level head.
So that’s what she did.
She blocked out everything else, ignored the chaos around her. She merely kept her eye on the projector, the droid calculating the exact amount of seconds they had for the Negotiator to make an escape, updating its calculation second by second as it coordinated with the other droids and computers on the other ships to give everyone a moment to moment tracking of the effects of the Lucrehulk’s slow destruction, and the tractor beams trying to hold it up for that much longer.
She would give the order to accelerate and escape not a single second before she had to.
—
Vicky
As a rain of fireballs fell from the skies above, Vicky flew ahead of the last of the gunships, physically punching through shards of shattered starship grade armor, sending them careening out of the path of the ships behind her.
Her silver wings, flew at her side, Jetpacks howling each of their on board instruments linked up with the instruments of the pilots, giving them second by second updates and letting the ships more powerful computers predict the best flight path to get them through the rain of burning steel.
And even as she flew closer and closer to the Venator and the burning world ending fireball that was the Lucrehulk itself plunging through the atmosphere like a sun falling onto the world, Vicky only had a single thought going through her mind.
Tay… Baby, please meet me on that ship!
If Tay wasn’t there… if Vicky didn’t find her…
Her chest hurt at the thought, a fear reaching up through her insides and choking her until she could barely breathe.
Still she flew ahead, even as the debris crashed down into the jungle below, sending plumes of fire, the sound of crushing trees, and crumbling masonry as they struck the temples. The faint echoes of the Dark Side lingering here, almost seemed to howl in rage at the back of her mind, roaring in defiance and hate at their imminent destruction.
She saw Droid dropships taking off, vultures and Hyena bombers scrambling to get out. There was no way the seps had the time to evacuate all of their droids, just like… just like they probably couldn’t have evacuated all of the clones.
But the seps didn’t care. Droids were expendable… replaceable. Clones, regardless of what some would say, weren’t.
They would die, and the only thing the seps would care about is ‘Did the Republic lose more?”
She hated it.
She hated Grievous most of all.
He hadn’t come down to the planet, and she could only imagine what the hell had happened in the fleet battle, millions of scenarios running through her head. Each one worse than the last.
The air became thinner, and the ascending line of Gunships fell beneath the Negotiator’s shadow, using it as a true shield as they made their final approach and Vicky slipped back, the loading bay door of the LAAT gunship opening to let her slip inside, other members of the silver wing doing the same as they made their final approach to safety.
Please baby girl. Be there!
—
Taylor
“Strap in!”
The pilot screamed through the intercom,troopers pressed themselves into the wall, pulling their safety harnesses tight around their body, those that didn’t have a strap were grabbed by their brothers, everyone forming a living, human chain to improvise harnesses as the pilot dodged and weaved through the metal meteor shower, engines screeching loud in my ears as he punched it at full speed to try and reach the Negotiator still lingering over our heads.
There wasn’t anything I could do here. Even with the Force, I didn’t have the vision to see the danger coming and react in time, there were no insects that could shove the metal aside, no protection I could give the ship.
I was completely at the mercy of… the Force.
Guelzo was strapped to a safety harness beside me, I could sense his fear, his uncertainty, and I tried to reassure him with an assurance I didn’t fully feel myself as the ship rocked and bucked, hard enough that men were thrown about the interior of the bay, human chain or not and my own body was jerked like a doll inside of the harness.
We flew and flew, higher and higher, every passing second feeling like an eternity.
For a moment, I felt as though we were about to fall under the Negotiator itself, its massive shadow and body being the safe haven we needed to make the final approach.
Then with a sound of rending metal, a tremendous crash sent my world into a literal tailspin, the ceiling of the gunship above my head was torn open, jagged metal and flames- winds howled, my hair was thrown across my face as men screamed, several clones getting sucked up through the opening, bits orf torn flesh and shattered armor getting caught on the serrated teeth of starship steel.
Shit! We’re going down, going down. Mayday Mayday, Negotiator-
I droned out the pilots harried calls, feeling the earth rushing back up to meet us as insects once more began to fall into my range.
I knew in my heart. There was no time.
No time for a ship to descend. To get us and pull us off this world and onto the ship.
My hair, caught in the wind, wild and untamed, and I coil almost count each individual strand as I prayed that Vicky at least would get out.
We hit trees first, wood giving way beneath tons of durasteel, the whole ship jerking to the side so hard I almost felt it break my neck outright, harness or no harness,
The side of the ship was torn open, a clone being bisected by a tree branch that had impaled him and been ripped out his other side just as fast.
The gunship flipped end over end, like a top being flicked to spin and spin and spin
I saw the impact with the ground coming.My insects telling me exactly where earth met sky
It didn’t make it any easier.
The last thing I felt and heard, was the ship crumpling like a crushed can as it hit the forest floor and a horrible, rending tearing along my side.
My eyes closed.
And I wasn’t confident I’d open them again.
—
Anakin
Alarms blared, klaxons blaring across the ship, red warning lights pulsed like strobes, consoles burst in shards of fire and shrapnel, the resolute was being torn apart by gunfire, almost all power now dedicated to shields, at least whatever wasn’t being thrown onto the tractor beam.
And still Anakin watched it descend, a sinking feeling in his stomach.
There wasn’t enough time.
The escorts were breaking off, their tractor beams shutting off to devote all power to engines and shields, they had to get away, they wouldn’t survive for much longer- only the Glory and the Resolute remained, and that would change rapidly.
They needed time… more time.
“Anakin-” He heard Obi-Wan’s voice through the comms, his master was similarly surrounded by flames on the bridge, the Glory taking just as bad of a beating. “Anakin we have to withdraw. We’ve done all that we can.
He was right. Anakin knew he was right.
If they didn’t get out, if he didn’t give the order to get out… he would lose the Resolute entirely.
Two Hundred thousand souls were aboard this ship. They would all die… if he did the right move.
And yet… his feelings screamed at him. Telling him they needed more time.
He needed to give them more time.
“Helmsman.” He called. The words like barbed wire in his throat. “Divert power to engines. Send a hail to all ships. Full retreat.”
The Clone was all too happy to agree.
The Lucrehulk descended, and Anakin could almost swear he could see it speed up, the last of the artificial resistance giving way as it plunged like a fiery fist down to the moon below.
Anakin felt something then. Not quite fury. Not quite anger or hate. But something close enough.
Defiance.
No.
Something in his body rebelled. Twisted and pure crystalizing inside of him in pure, unfettered determination.
His hands reached, but it was The Force that answered.
The eddies and currents of the Force, always at his beck and call, came to him like a tsunami an ocean of power rarely tapped into, rarely channeled, but he pulled on it now.
He reached through space, metal, void and impossibility.
Because nothing, was impossible.
Anakin heaved.
For exactly one minute twenty seven point six seconds, every computer calculating the descending ships trajectory would blare out with a long string of error codes, as, inexplicably, their instruments showed the derelict world ender ascending
At twenty nine seconds, A medic would be called.
Because General Skywalker had inexplicably collapsed, blood leaking from his eyes, nose and ears.
But he’d bought one minute and twenty-seven seconds.
One minute… and Twenty seven precious, irreplaceable seconds.
—
Guelzo
He awoke with a start, like he’d just been shocked back into full consciousness, his every instinct alert and wide awake
A self assessment was useless… everything hurt. But still, he stumbled to his feet, voice a croak as he tried to shout. “Gen-Genera-”
He succeeded on his fifth try. “GENERAL!”
He didn’t see her, or more specifically, his eyes were blurry, not cooperating, he blinked, the blurriness remaining until he brought his arm mounted scanner up, locking it onto a transponder who’s frequency he knew by heart already.
He stumbled, lurching forward on unsteady legs as he forced his body to move.
He found the gunship… or its remains- finding that, at least through his mental math, he must’ve been thrown at least fifteen meters from the crash.
He’d count the fact that he was moving at all, no small miracle.
“General!” He shouted, stumbling through the jagged trench the crash had carved through the forest floor, forcing himself to pay no mind to the string of white armored body parts he could begin to see in stark reliefagainst the mossy dirt.
He made it into the belly of the ship, the red along the windshield told him the pilot was dead, brains splattered all over the glass, the stink of burning meat told him at least one of his brothers was dead.
But he wasn’t here for them. Only her
As soon as he forced open the last loading bay door, a yawning chasm opened up in his stomach.
“General?”
A shard of metal as thick as a sword had torn its way down from her ribs, to her hip, blood oozed from the wound, another nasty cut was over her forehead, leaving red over her still open eyes.
Her eyes were open…
And she was breathing.
“Guelzo.” Her voice was flat… almost dead. He knew her well enough to know that she did this to suppress her own feelings, to hide them, whatever she felt, whatever she didn’t feel, she wouldn’t let it show. Not fear, not despair, nor blind hope, regret or hopelessness.
She was still The General.
And he was still her soldier.
Guelzo’s hand flew down to his wrist bound instrument, flicking over the republic channels, ready to call down something anything- to get her out. A Gunship was too slow. But a single man or two man fighter. Maybe. It could reach them. If it was hyperspace capable with an astromech it could just fly itself down and get her out! What happened to him didn’t matter.
And then, as he flicked through the codes, the transponder beacon… detected something.
Guelzo’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull, disbelief and… stupefaction, frankly, clogged the ‘gears’ of his mind as he recognized the sheer impossibility, of what his instrument was telling him.
A Nu class attack shuttle. Intact, and less than seventy six meters away, just through the tree line!
How it-
It didn’t matter.
His eyes traveled upwards, the Lucrehulk now an all consuming sun in the sky, drawing closer.
He couldn’t even see the Negotiator anymore.
A minute, maybe less, before it struck the planet.
Guelzo looked at his General, her eyes clouded with pain even if her face didn’t show it.
Moving her might be dangerous, but staying here was certain death.
He moved, the pain in his own body not even a distant, tertiary concern. “Sorry General.” He said in advance, grabbing hold of her wrist.
“Guelz-ARgh” Her call of his name was cut off with a breathless gasp of pain as he heaved her up onto his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, beating feet as quickly as he could.
The thicket grew thick, and Guelzo despaired at the realization that he might not make it through the brambles and vines, before the jungle’s insects came alive devouring the plants in his way like a living, breathing mass of teeth and claws, clearing a path.
No matter what; she was still his General.
He rushed through the thicket, the insects swarming around them.
And there it was.
He didn’t understand, didn’t know how or why.
But there was indeed a shuttle here, ramp already descended, he pounded up the gangway, setting her down on the co-pilots seat before he himself lunged towards the pilots chair rushing to activate all systems and get them out.
He’d been in such a rush, so focused, he never even heard the approach.
A sudden roar behind him and someone grabbed at his shoulders, pulling him and ripping both himself and the pilot’s chair clean off of its moorings. Guelzo flew through the air, chair and all, thrown into the wall with a crash.
Training took over, blaster pistol and knife drawn in an instant as a Zabrak drew his red lightsaber.
A fallen Jedi. He didn’t have time for-
The Yellow blade burst out of the Zabrak’s chest, the angle deliberately placed to pierce both hearts as the blade ignited.
The yellow skinned behemoth glanced down, confused, wondering clearly where the blade had come from before it vanished and he dropped, stone dead.
The General’s curved lightsaber hilt hovered there, floating gently back into her hand droplets of her blood drip drip dripping onto the cold steel floor beside her seat.
It was only then, that Guelzo noted the children huddled by the ships loading ramp.
Some of them began to back up, ready to run as others cried at the sight of the dead Zabrak
Guelzo didn’t have time to debate, or think, or calm them down or throw them out or even remove the body, He stood up, holstered his blaster, though he kept his knife in hand, he made his way to the control module, shutting the bay doors and getting the shuttle off the ground.
He had no chair so he had to improvise, manuvering the ship awkwardly as he stood.
Winds were beginning to whip about outside like a hurricane and Guelzo knew enough to realize that it was the air, trapped between the lucrehulk and the ground being displaced as the thing got closer and closer.
There was no ‘night time’ anymore. Just the glow of an impossibly large fire over their heads. . How much longer did they have? Seconds?
It didn’t matter, he activatedthe ships engines and punched it, full throttle barely avoiding himself flying back through sheer acceleration, the children screamed as they were sent hurtling back into the bulkhead as Guelzo turned the ship to ride the drafts of gale force winds to run even faster.
There was a sound. Impossible rolling crashing, sundering thunder proximity impact warnings blaring behind them as tons and tons and tons of earth, rock, debris and ash began to chase them. Guelzo didn’t dare wonder if they could outrun the blast, didn’t dare contemplate that Lucrehulk’s reactor going critical.
It couldn’t.
Because the General had to survive.
He accelerated, and accelerated more, when the ship was at full speed, he willed the thing to go even faster, and when the flash of light that nearly blinded him went off- he prayed he’d open his eyes again.
By the time they made it back to a Republic ship- the repair crews would say that the rear plates of the ship had been flash melted by the heat of whatever blast they’d avoided.
Missing certain death… by mere fractions, of seconds.
(X)(X)(X)
So, not gonna lie, this chapter low key fought me there were a lot of moving pieces that were in very disparate places and the battle on the ground and in the air kind of 'ends' in very different places. Like for example, the battle on the ground was over a while ago but the battle fleet side was still very much going on. Not to mention Maul, and Grievous and so on still being 'in play.
So pacing waise it was a complete 'mess' because you had to constantly shift gears from 'action flic' to 'slower paced drama' in a sense and some parts (like Vicky's arrival on the Negotiator and Maul/Grievous actions on the Glory) had to be cut out for various reasons.
I hope I was able to make it work in the end product but you all let me know.
The battle of Yavin thus, is largely concluded. The ultimate effect of this battle, will ultimately be expanded on in the coming chapter. When the heroes (and villains) all get to take stock and I genuinely think, few people will be able to deduce how the next chapter will 'play out' ahead of time in terms of how all of this leads to the story's final conclusion. So until next week, I'll catch you all later :)Also, a surprise for our artwork enjoyers (I promised you all I had something special cooking up) :D