Star Wars: Retaliation (IC)

[The Imperial Republic]

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OOC | Theme | Discord

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Denkoll

The narrow streets of the refinery-centered city of Denkoll were clogged with civilian vehicles, abandoned and left to ruin during the initial evacuation by Skakoan militias hours before the Republic would engage the light security flotilla of reserve Separatist Navy ships. Now their only purpose was to delay Republic ground forces for as long as possible while Separatist and aligned Skakoan militia established an adequate defense. As hundreds of LAAT/I transports entered the copper-colored skies of Denkoll, they were hammered with anti-aircraft flak. By the time Jedi General Vrudun Tumara and the rest of the 53rd Corps found a clear landing spot in the smoggy city, clone casualties had already surpassed the Republic's expectations. From the start of the ground assault, General Tumara's movements were hindered at every turn. With such tight streets, AT-TE, AT-AP, and anything heavier than AT-RTs were out of the question. Artillery support was out of the question, air support was cut off and any attempt to bring more clone reinforcements in was doomed to fail until those anti-air cannons were taken out. With the help of Vrudun, the 53rd was able to establish a foothold at One Unity Park, an octagon-shaped stone pavilion with a large monument to some famous Skakoan corporatist of the Techno Union. Establishing a network of tents surrounding the monument, Jedi General Tumara would plan his assault with Commander Cutt and an assortment of Commanders in command of the various battalions that made up the 1st Legion of the 53rd. After taking so many losses to the anti-aircraft flak, the 1st Legion was only 46% combat effective, just a few hundred above four thousand out of nine thousand. After taking One Unity Park, only three and a half thousand remained under his command.

The largest tent, a brown cloth rectangular mobile command center was scantly occupied, home to nothing more than a holo-table and a few crates of repair kits for various clone armor and weapons. Vrudun examined the map closely. At one side of the map was a Republic symbol, where most of his forces were located, separated by a maze of streets and one to two story buildings belonging to various landlords or store owners. Most of the work for the civilians came from the massive droid and equipment factory in the center of the city, belonging to the Techno Union, which was now acting as the Separatist command center for all Droid and militia forces on the planet. Aside from Denkoll, there were over a dozen Separatist bases across the planet, but Denkoll was the largest. Other clone battalions were present on the planet and from what the Republic Battlenet was saying, they were taking their targets with ease. The same couldn't be said for Denkoll, obviously. Commander Cutt entered the tent, accompanied by a few other Commanders. "General Tumara." Commander Cutt said as they approached the holo-table.

"The men are in formation. We lost more than half of our AT-RTs just in the landing, but the few we have left are holding the perimeter." Stated Commander Cutt, placing his hands behind his back and standing at attention.

"Thank you, Cutt. I'm going to be honest, men. We don't have the numbers to launch a full-scale assault on the central factory." General Tumara activated the enemy location pings, lighting up the map with red Separatist symbols. Every street was essentially owned by the Separatists.

"We're outnumbered. With those flak cannons operational, no Republic ship could get close enough and orbital bombardment has already been restricted. Commanders, we don't have a choice in the matter. We have to take out those cannons. If we can destroy those cannons, the rest of the 53rd can come in and we could have that factory within an hour. What I'm going to suggest...." Vrudun had trouble spitting out the words. He was a General but he hated losing men under his command. Other Jedi had reputations for not considering the casualties after a mission, but it always weighed heavily on Tumara.

"General, don't worry about us. We're clones. We were born to fight and win. Tell us what we need to do and we'll do it." Spoke Cutt, removing his helmet. Vrudun nodded and continued.

"I'm proposing three strike teams. Team One will be led by me and Commander Cutt. The second, by Commander Trick and the third by Commander Pardo. The rest of our legion will initiate an assault up the middle while the three teams infiltrate from the East, West and my team will punch in from the middle. Primary objectives is the destruction of the flak cannons. Team Two's secondary objective is a vehicle depot from the East. There's a service road that's large enough to accommodate Droid AATs. If you can, neutralize local droid forces and acquire those AATs, it'll make all of our jobs easier. Team Three, your objective is the Denkoll Hangars. The flak cannons can only aim so low, so if you can use atmo-speeders, you can get in close under the AA cannons and destroy your target easier. Again, these are secondary objectives, so if you think the risk is greater than the reward, bypass them and move straight for the cannons. We're gonna take monumental losses, but the rest of your brothers and the Republic are depending on you, so let's make their sacrifice count. We begin the assault in forty-five minutes.

**

Vrudun's blue lightsaber glistened in the smoke as he deflected dozens of bolts from him, sending them crackling into B1 Droid center masses, dozens of clones pushing forward behind him in a show of great bravery. As the two other teams moved out for their targets, Vrudun and his team pushed forward with the main force, assisting in pushing back B1 Battle Droids. The deeper they got into Separatist territory, the more B2s and IG Droids they saw, making the assault harder. The street was awash in blue and red bolts as men around him fell to the ground. General Tumara found reprieve behind a civilian speeder, panting hard as Commander Cutt returned fire with his DC-17 blasters, dropping two B1 Droids before taking cover behind the same speeder.

"We aren't gonna get much further if we keep this up. We gotta find an alternate route." Said General Tumara as his blue lightsaber shined brightly, illuminating half of his face in a cool blue shade. Commander Cutt pointed across from him, to an ally that led to the entrance of a large domed building. Upon looking, Vrudun nodded and waved for the rest of his strike team, the best clones out of the legion, to follow. Providing cover fire, Commander Cutt allowed for the rest of the team to move through the alley as the intense fighting continued, with the 1st Legion continuing the assault.

Given a chance, Vrudun activated his comm-link on his white forearm armor piece, similar to the clone armor. "All Strike Teams, report."

"This is Team Two, we've engaged the vehicle depot. Only a dozen B2s on security detail. Alarm's been set, though. We are moving to acquire the AATs."

"This is Team Three. Hangar's a no-go, General. We've got a Multi-Troop Transport moving B2s in, probably to reinforce the factory. We're moving on to the primary objective."

"Copy, Teams. We've diverted from the main assault and are on our way. Vrudun out." he said as he motioned for Commander Cutt and the other five clones to follow into the domed building.

[Brusia]

Martius Shan
Ord Radama
New Raido

Martius walked silently down the streets of New Raido with his cloak fastened and his hood up to conceal his identity. Next to him walked one Lan Rendage, a Devlikk native of Ord Radama and former Captain in the Planetary Defense Forces, until his loyalties to the Republic resulted in his being replaced when the planet seceded to join the Separatists.

"Are we nearly there?" Martius asked the Captain "I don't much care for being out in the open like this..."

"I understand" Rendage replied "But trust me, in person meets are still alot safer than having a long conversation over comms; those damned Separatists watch over all our communications like a hawk-bat."

After a few more minutes of walking, Rendage approached the doorway of a large warehouse and stated: "This one here" and the two quickly opened the door and entered inside. As they entered, a few dozen Devlikks and Humans armed and armored with a varied assortment of gear leveled their weapons at Martius, until the Captain stated: "Easy there, he's with me."

"And who exactly is 'he'" a scarred human woman, better armored than most of those surrounding her, asked as she approached.

Martius lowered his hood, extended his arm towards the woman, and stated: "I am Master Martius Shan of the Jedi Order; I've come with a detachment from the 12th Sector Army to help liberate your planet from the Separatists, but we could use your help."

The woman chuckled abit, shook his hand, then stated: "Well it's about time." Looking towards Rendage she stated: "Gotta admit, I didn't believe you when you said the Republic was finally back" then returned her gaze to Martius and continued: "So what do you need from us?"

"We're coordinating with all of the resistance cells in the city to launch a joint attack with ARC Troopers and Clone Commandos on critical Separatist positions" Martius replied "And yours is the last cell we need."

"I hate to break it to you, but the Seps have this city locked down real tight; it's gonna take a whole lot more than some beat up resistance fighters and a handful of clones to knock out their critical infrastructure."

"Leave that to me" Martius replied "If all goes according to plan, the enemy presence in the city should be considerably reduced before our attack. But if this is going to happen, it needs to happen soon, so I need to know: are you in?"

The woman thought about it for a few moments, then after a deep sigh replied: "Ah, screw it, not like any of us were planning to live forever anyway. We're in."

"Thank you" Martius replied "With your aid, I believe we'll have this planet free of Separatist control in no time."

"We'll see..." the woman replied before moving off to ready her men.

"So, there anything else you need Master Jedi?" Rendage asked.

"No, I believe we're ready to begin. Thank you for your assistance Captain."

Rendage nodded and Martius activated his comm briefly, informing his XO Commander Maverick waiting near the city and Admiral Nalora, his friend and ally currently commanding the Victory: "Operation Exeunt is a go."

Nalora replied simply: "Acknowledged" then turned to one of the clone officers nearby and ordered: "Initiate the attack." Within moments scores of fighters and gunships launched from the Victory and made their way down not to the capital of New Raido, but to the much less heavily defended city of Livien Magnus. Not long after they began their attack, alarms started to sound throughout New Raido, and it wasn't long before reports started to come in from various resistance fighters that droids were massing in the streets and marching towards the city gates, moving to relieve their besieged comrades.

Looking out one of the warehouse windows, the scarred woman looked back towards Martius and stated: "I'll give you this Jedi, you certainly know how to get their attention." After waiting for around an hour to ensure the droid relief force was well clear of New Raido, Martius again activated his comm and stated: "Initiate Phase 2."

This time Maverick replied: "Understood General." In the span of an instant the city of New Raido went from a tense calm to a storm of blaster fire, as the Clone special forces and resistance cells all simultaneously launched their attacks on their respective targets. Nalora meanwhile ordered the Victory's bombers to attack the droid relief force, now stuck in the open between the two cities. With New Raido's internal defenses so reduced, it didn't take long for the Republic and resistance forces to eliminate their targets, and though several of the resistance cells took heavy casualties, all insisted on being present as the groups linked back up at the planet's capitol building for the final attack.

The attack force rapidly cleaved their way through the remaining droid defenders in the capitol, and after securing as much enemy intel as possible, made their way to the hanger to cut off the Separatist commander's escape. Martius and his men arrived just as the commander's shuttle began to take off, but a well placed rocket fired by one of the clones took out an engine and sent the shuttle spiraling down into one of the marshes outside the city.

"Nice shot" Martius said to the clone trooper "Though we should move quickly if we're going to capture the enemy commander." Turning to his XO he continued: "Maverick, take command of our forces planetside and finish wrapping things up here. If the enemy commander is who I think it is, I'd like to bring them in personally."

"Understood sir" Maverick replied "And good hunting General."

"Thank you Maverick, and may the Force be with you." With that, Martius rounded up a squad of troopers and set off into the marshes to locate and capture the Separatist commander...

[Laiakia]

Coruscaunt, Sublevel 3321

A squadron of clones lead by a hooded figure were walking through the streets checking the occasional shady store. The hooded man was Tuka Tisrygian. He took a glance over at the troopers. Though he hated to admit it, he had grown quite fond of this particular group. After his training at the temple, he would often visit the clone garrison and talk to the same clones every day. Tuka hadn't really trusted anyone since his friend betrayed him all those years ago. Just thinking about it made his blood boil, but he took deep breaths and tried to remain calm.

"What's our next location?" He asked the lead clone trooper.

"Sir, our last location is a spice shop on the other side of these slums." The clone said. "It'll take us about a little over an hour to get there by foot, and there's no other transport vehicle."

Tuka let out a chuckle and began walking. "Well, i guess we should start walking then.

With that, the squad began walking behind Tuka, towards their goal of the shady spice shop.

[Tact]

Nirea Baize
Mirial
Sector 1233

Nirea leaned against the burned-out husk of an AAT, chest heaving as she sucked in lungfuls of acrid smoke. The harsh, chemical taste almost made her splutter, but somehow she pushed the feeling down and focused on the sensation of life flowing back into her body. Her fingers were almost number, her calves aching, her body shivering uncontrollably as sweat plastered her robes to her body. A long gash ran along her cheekbone, though the blood pouring out had long since slowed to a trickle, and her knuckles were swollen and bruised from clutching her lightsabre.

"Ma'am?" A clone asked, pausing for a moment as a cannon-shot detonated against the ground a little ahead of their position, "We're about to push up again. We need you ready."

Nirea shuddered, a second detonation almost staggering her as she gazed up at the Barbican. Its outer walls had been reduced to almost nothing, but still the main keep towered over the area like a pock-marked monolith. From this distance she could just about make out the cannon studding its side, each one in its own protective bubble, each one raining fire and death upon the clones as they surged and held, surged and held. Like a tide, creeping inexorably from cover to cover towards the relative safety of the shattered walls.

"Ma'am?" The clone repeated, and Nirea forced her mind to centre, pushing away the uncertainty and fear and letting the Force flow into her body. Her tension dissolved, her pain was soothed, the gash along her cheekbones slowly healed and vanished with only the faintest hint of a scar. She let out a breath she hadn't noticed she'd been holding, relaxing her will as the Force began to tug at it.

"I'm ready." She nodded, igniting her lightsabre, "Where too?"

"See the downed gunship?"

Nirea's eyes were already tracking towards it, the saucer-shaped droid still twitching and trying to bring its guns to bear. She nodded.

"I'll put it down move up once it's done."

Before the clone could respond she was moving, sliding over the bow of the wreck and hitting the ground running. A skeletal turret was tracking towards her, spitting a hyphenated stream of stuttering bolts to kick up yet more dust and shapnel into the already-hazy air, and her blade moved almost-unconsciously, tight motions intercepting shot after shot and redirecting each harmlessly away. There was a momentary pause in the barrage as the gunner collapsed in a flash of blue and a shower of sparks, before another droid took their place. This onslaught was shorter-lived, Nirea's blade transcribing tight arcs for a moment before a deflected blast saw the turret consumed in a savage explosion.

Sliding into cover behind the downed gunship, her blade slashed through the droid's head and the machine went still as the first group of clones still sheltering behind the AAT broke cover. A barrage of covering fire followed them, spattering against the heavy masonry which the current Separatist line was using as cover. Nirea saw a handful of droids pop up and attempt to return fire, before being quickly scythed down. It still shocked her how sharp the Clones were. Though only perhaps a hundred metres away the air was so thick with smoke and dust she could only make out indistinct shapes, and yet they had managed to knock them down like pop-up targets at a firing range.

And then white-armoured figures were next to her, and she relaxed the iron grip on her own emotions. The aches and pains and shakes and shivers swept back over her body, her form sagging against the hot-metal hull of the gunship as the clones began to lay down cover fire for the second group to move up. Something sticky and wet was making its way down her wrist, and as she realised that a white-hot spurt of pain registered in her arm, driving her to her knees. Forcing her eyes to move, they alighted on a deep gash cutting diagonally across her forearm. A flash of something white shone out from the sea of thick crimson and she forced it out of her mind and screwed her eyes shut, gripping her emotions and-

Something detonated on the other side of the downed gunship, the shockwave flinging Nirea and the clones through the air in a shower of shrapnel. She hit the ground hard, ploughing a furrow in the earth before coming to a stop. Everything felt hazy, pain searing from every part of her body, and sticky warmth and increasingly present sensation. Her hands pressed down into the earth, her arms trembling from pain and exertion, and her vision went white from pain. Howling, she dropped back into the dirt, gasping and choking on the strangely bitter smoke enshrouding her.

A white hand grabbed her, dragged her up against a chunk of masonry. She was barely even aware, lightheadedness and pain clouding her senses and her mind desperately reaching out for the Force. She brushed against it, feeling it trickle into her, and her senses slowly began to return to her as her body began the long process of knitting itself back together. Her eyes focused blearily, making out shattered blocks of stone and white-armoured figures, and a trail of blood leading to where she rested. It took her mind a moment to piece it all together.

"Huh." She smiled, feeling sensation slowly return to her fingers, "We made it to the wall."

[Sao Nova Europa]

Coruscant, Jedi Temple

Yang Su-Wei made his way inside the library. He needed some relaxation after his last military campaign, and there was nothing more relaxing than reading some book on Jedi military history. The lessons one could accumulate from reading about the wars the Jedi fought in the past could prove life-saving in the current war against the Separatists. Yang was in no hurry, taking his time to decide which archive to pick for reading. After all, it would be at least two weeks before he got some kind of new assignment.

"This will be one quite day..." Yang said, almost whispering. "Not that I am complaining. I could use some rest after all this fighting."

---

Flashback

Boom!

Yang felt the ground shaking, and he was behind the lines. He could not even begin to imagine how loud and frightening such an artillery attack would be to the soldiers at the front lines. Yang was watching the movements of the Clone troops through a holographic depiction of the battleground. He had a full view of the entire field thanks to the holoprojector and he could monitor all Clone units, as well as most of the Separatist battle-droids.

"Sir," the Clone Captain said, "I think they are taking the bait."

"Indeed..." Yang had a slight smirk on his face. His plan was a success; the Separatists had been lured into an ambush. Yang had offered them a vulnerable target and they took the bait by attacking it. The Clone soldiers being pummeled by the Separatist artillery were nothing more than a bait.

In order for the plan to work, casualties were inevitable; the troopers on the front lines paid a terrible price in men in order to lure the enemies into the trap.

"Now!" Yang ordered when the Separatist droids had advanced right where he wanted them to be. Clone reinforcements, that had been well-hidden in the lush forests surrounding the wide plain where the battle was taking place, charged forward. The Separatists were surrounded on three sides. He had deliberately avoided completely surrounding them, in order to give them an opening through which they could retreat. Yang knew that a cornered enemy was a dangerous enemy.

"Another victory," Yang remarked as he sipped his Tarine tea. Other Jedi would be leading their men into battle by themselves, cutting down their opponents with their lightsaber or their Force abilities. Yang instead preferred sitting back, having a complete view of the battlefield, organizing the Clone units in the best possible manner, directing them to the best of his tactical abilities and waiting for the result. He was a strategist and a tactician, not a warrior.

[Tact]

Nirea Baize
Mirial
Sector 1233

Nirea's eyes flickered open, snapping to the location of Mirial's ruddy sun almost immediately. It hadn't moved. She couldn't have been out for long. Slowly she flexed her fingers, pulling her knees up and forcing herself to her feet. Her entire body was aching - she wasn't dead, but she'd need a long time unwinding after this battle. It was better than she deserved, she knew. By all rights she should have been dead - there was certainly enough blood pooled around her to have killed her - but here she was, alive.

As if to remind her of the mercurial nature of that state of affairs, a blaster bolt sizzled past her face. She half-turned to find a heated firefight between her clones - sheltering amidst a cluster of masonry chunks blown several hundred metres in - and the new line of Separatist defences, nestled against a hastily-constructed barricade around the base of the Barbican itself. The roar of the cannon bristling from the walls was almost continuous, simply rising and falling like the susurrations of an earth-shaking tide. But this close, she was under their range. Their fury was voiced elsewhere, and Nirea was thankful.

Igniting her blade she brought it up to a centre-guard, tight arcs intercepting bolts as she centred her emotions and forced them into stillness. One step at a time she advanced towards the barricade, slowly passing the fallen masonry and pressing onwards. Slowly, between her own occasional deflections and the snap-fire of the clones, the defenders began to thin out. There was a moment of tension - a judging of risk, an intensification of fire - and then there were white-clad figures rushing past her, droid poppers snapping and sizzling as the barricade was overrun.

Letting the Force surge through her Nirea leaped, landing on the barricade's wire-mesh deck and instantly ducking aside to let a blaster bolt flash past. Laid out before her, she could now see the droids puling back to a series of heavy sally ports at the base of the Barbican, streaming into the fortification as inset repeating blasters disgorged a fusillade of fire against anyone who tried to come too close. As she watched a section pivoted, precise blaster bolts detonating a pair of repeating blasters before the clones swept into the dead zone in protective coverage and began to close the distance.

A blur of metal and arcing electricity burst out of the sally port, bowling over lesser droids like skittles before it crashed into the clones with the force of a cannonblast. Agonised screams laced the air as the electrostaff twirled and lashed around, blaster bolts searing the machine's armour until there was no-one left to fire. Nirea felt fear spreading tendrils up her spine as she watched the carnage. She had seen these twice before. They operated in pairs. She would have to do all she could to bring this one down before its partner arrived.

Stepping off of the barricade Nirea landed and raised her blade in the air to catch the droid's attention. Sure enough, its photoreceptors lit up with a crimson glee and it began to tear towards her, electrostaff blurring into a single circle of flickering purple lightning. She had barely an instant to ready herself, the Force moving her into a high guard before the full force of the Magnaguard's overhead swing jarred her arms and almost knocked the lightsabre from her hand. Twisting her wrist she managed to redirect the full force of the blow downwards, before snapping back into a centre-guard with a swift step back. The droid was already reversing its grip, a second hammerblow deflecting off her guard and sending pain shooting down her wrist. She moved to riposte, blade sliding down the staff's body towards the hand, but the droid pulled back and disengaged before lunging with the full length of its staff, forcing Nirea another two steps back.

Something electric curled and coiled in her stomach as she and the droid circled each other for a single, eternal moment. The droid's weight shifted for a high-lunge, but the Force held her back until it pivoted into a light strike against her shoulder. Her blade flashed in a single moment of action, shifting the tip of the staff aside as she stepped into the droid's guard and decapitated it in a single, clean motion. The droid staggered off backwards and she turned her attention to the sally ports, now sealed shut and belching thick smoke where the repeating blasters had once been. One of the sally ports had obviously been selected as their entry point, because a pair of clones were setting up a breaching charge while the rest were preparing the perimeter.

Something blared in her mind and she half-pivoted, almost avoiding the electrostaff as it grazed her left arm. The entire limb convulsed, sheets of white-hot pain filling her mind, before going numb and flopping to her side. The headless droid recovered from its lunge, strong swings tearing into Nirea's disoriented defence as she gave ground furiously. Panic started to rise in her, icy veins skating up her stomach as her fingers began to tremble from the stress of the repeated blows. A moment later she was backed up against the barricade.

With nowhere left to go, she parried the next thrust and stepped into the droid's guard with an attempted riposte. The droid reversed its grip on the staff in a single, fluid motion, locking staff with blade for a brief moment before the lightsabre slipped from her numb fingers and clattered to the ground with a muted thunk. A wide-swipe had Nirea backed against the barricade again, shifting her weight from one side to another in preparation to run as the droid mirrored her perfectly before drawing back and lunging forwards with lightning speed. She barely managed to twist out of the way, collapsing to the floor on her hands and knees and skittering away, waiting for the follow-up blow to come.

After the longest moment, it didn't. Forcing herself to her feet, she saw the Magnaguard struggling to remove its staff from two separate layers of wire-mesh it had punched through. Realising she was back up, the headless droid released the weapon, skeletal fingers curling as Nirea dove for her lightsabre. She heard heavy footfalls tearing towards her, ignited the blade and swiped blindly in front of her. The snap-hiss of a lightsabre coming into contact with metal resounded through her ears, before the bisected torso of the Maganaguard slammed into her at full-speed. A droplet of molten metal landed on her upper-arm, searing her flesh as she pushed the wreckage off her, stumbled to her feet and shook her head blearily. At the Barbican's base, a muffled detonation went off, clones pouring into the fortification. Nirea smiled weakly, then set off after them.

[Northern Poland]

Andejahi Harbea
Venator class Star Destroyer Blade of Retribution

Andejahi meditated in his chambers in the bowls of the grand ship. He felt like he could feel the ship itself, as it sailed across the void, engines at full thrust. It was peaceful, utterly silent in the room, as he was the only one dwelling there. However, there was this feeling like a small tickle at the back of his mind, but he ignored it. Thoughts that prodded like that could get out of control, and infect one's mind. That would never do, especially for him, he was a level headed Jedi, not one who let emotions judge their actions. He sat there, in perfect stature, as he continued to meditate in the center of the room, as his items laid around his personal quarters, in front of the large door that separated him from the clones.


He reflected on the campaigns beforehand, largely successful, but with a few mess-ups here and there. The 113th and Andejahi had a good record, although the losses they suffered where crushing. On one occasion, during the Campaign on Colsu, they had to leave behind all of their heavy weapons to evacuate in time, as Separatist forces had overrun all of the Clone's defenses. On another occasion, during the Pacification of Madol-5, they had to leave behind thousands of Maldolian Loyalists during a disastrous battle in the Great Mountains of the Planet, where they found out after subduing the resistance that they where slaughtered in droves, and none had survived.


But, alas there he was, on a trip back to the Jedi temple, for some reason, new deployment? He did not know, maybe the war was over, and the Jedi could return to peace-time enforcement. The clones and he felt the end of the war in their bones, perhaps it was at hand. Or, maybe it was a Mirage, an Illusion. Andejahi would know soon, that thought remained in his head, and he hoped he would. Though that feeling of unease from earlier kept creeping in, instead of a tickle, it was more like a drum inside his head, pushing its way into his thoughts, into his consciousness.


Though, he pushed it out, as it disturbed his thoughts, as he once again regained peace within his chambers. The Ship was alive, with crewmen moving about, and sitting at terminals and fire control stations. There where others, including the crew of a Separatist ship, made up of Members of the Human Legion, Gunnery crew, Pilots, Soldiers, the whole 9 yards, all humans. He hadn't seen many humans fighting for the separatists, only droids and other alien races fighting for their homeworld. Humans were a huge rarity and were guarded by around a dozen 113th Clones. He himself had two guards outside his door, both he normally socialized with, because this was probably one of the most boring assignments, bar the power generators.

[The Imperial Republic]

Denkoll

The massive steel double-doors of the domed building caved inward, prompted to by a harsh push of the force. Vrudun took point, his lightsaber illuminating a good portion of the massive open area they walked into. The clones activated their flashlights and scanned the area and what they saw sent chills down their spines. It would appear that they stumbled upon some droid storage unit for the Techno Union. Racks upon racks of D-Wing Air Support Droids, LM-432 Crab Droids, and hanging high above of an inactive conveyor line were dozens of SD-K4 Assassin Droids. "Guessing the Seps forgot about these, eh? Everything in this place alone would tear our brothers apart." Said Commander Cutt as he kept his DC-17s up and ready to fire in case of any nasty surprises. Running light meant that they only had a handful of thermal detonators altogether, not nearly enough to blow the entire building. They crept through the rows of droids, staying as quiet as possible aside from the low hum of Vrudun's blade. The silence was interrupted by a massive boom that rocked the ground underneath them. "This is Team Three!" Commander Pardo's voice echoed through the building, mingling with hints of static that rose in intensity. "The first gun is down! The clankas never...kn-kn-knew..." Pardo's voice was eventually drowned out by static as emergency lighting activated across the building and their worst fears came to reality. External lighting on every single droid activated as he unhinged themselves from their charging stations. "Ohhhh, run!" Yelled Vrudun as he sliced through three D-Wing droids immediately to his right. Commander Cutt let loose with his pistols as they ran towards the far exit. The last clone in the squad was ambushed by assassin droids falling overhead. Brief screams were eventually snuffed out as Vrudun mustered all he could to force push the groups of droids away. A volley from a nearby crab droid whizzed over the heads of the clones, impacting against the far exit, blowing apart the entrance way and leaving the shattered remains of what once was a square hole with automatic sliding doors. Vrudun turned around and began deflecting bolts back at the droids, giving his clones more time to fall back. With each movement, he felt his energy drain. Using the force as abundantly as he was at this moment was draining him. Just as his defense was about to fail, four thermal detonators sailed over his head and landed right in the middle of a clump of a dozen D-wing droids. Vrudun turned to run just as the grenades detonated, sending a plume of molten smoke and droid parts right at him. With an immense effort, he focused his energy into a burst of force speed, successfully outrunning the plume but falling to the ground in exhaustion. Commander Cutt was the first to arrive at the Jedi, holstering his blasters and kneeling down to check on his commander. "General Tumara, are you okay?" He asked just as his holoprojector pinged in his back pocket. "Yes, Commander. I'll be fine. It's just what happens, sometimes. I'll be fine." Said Vrudun as he eyed the projector in his hand. Upon it's activation, a blue silhouette of a hooded figure appeared, fading in and out as it's voice was muffled. "Ex-exe-t...der....six" was all that it said before the connection dropped out. "What was that?" Asked a tired Vrudun as he slowly raised from his position on the ground. "No idea, but there must be a signal blocker in the vicinity. Vrudun took deep breaths and recentered himself as he sensed more droids incoming from the storage. "More droids!" Yelled Vrudun as he activated his lightsaber. Just as the droids opened fire, a wave of something new crashed into Vrudun, a feeling of dread, a feeling of emptiness, of pain and suffering. The Jedi General stumbled back and fell to one knee. "General!" Yelled Commander Cutt as he returned fire. Vrudun groaned and a red bolt smashed against the Jedi's right shoulder, sending bits of cloth and charred flesh flying out like confetti. As Vrudun crumbled to the ground, Commander Cutt was there, grabbed his collar and dragged him back, continuing to return fire as the other clones stepped in front of the injured Jedi, one taking a bolt right to the head. Another scooped up the Jedi's deactivated lightsaber and turned back around to drop a D-Wing droid.

Cutt leaned Vrudun against a burned out speeder and sprayed the wound with bacta as the Jedi shook his head, trying to refocus. "What happened, General?" Asked Cutt. Vrudun struggled to respond as he couldn't even muster the words to describe what he had felt and continued to feel. So much death. What did the Separatists do?

"I....I don't know...something's not right, Cutt. Something happened..." Was all General Tumara could say.

"You're injured. The bacta is working but you need proper care. We can take it from here, sir." Said Cutt.

"No...no. I'm fine. We need to finish this. Now." Said Vrudun as he once again rose to his feet. Cutt couldn't argue and simply nodded lightly. Without communications, Vrudun and his team continued on their route to the second AA tower. The sounds of gunfire was already prominent, meaning the other two teams were engaged at the first tower that was around eight hundred yards away. The ensuing battle was costly and ended with only General Tumara and an injured Cutt as the two survivors.

The last droid blasters were silenced with a single slash of the Jedi's lightsaber across the chest of the B2 Battle Droid. Surrounding the two were dozens of droids of various makes and models. Scanning the field, Vrudun was relieved to find that this battle was concluded. The Anti-Air Cannons were offline and the familiar drone of LAATs were growing louder and louder.

"We did it, sir." Said Cutt as he holstered his blasters, just as the holoprojector pinged once more. "Looks like that jammer is down too." Said Vrudun as he looked up to see stormclouds rolling in, lightning and thunder accompanying them. Commander Cutt activated it, the hooded figure coming in much clearer this time. "Execute Order 66."

Vrudun felt the feeling of dread immediately as the words registered in the Jedi's mind. He was confused by it, but at the same time given a new understanding. How all of what he had felt up until now was leading to this. He could sense Cutt's blasters unholster. "Don't. Vrudun whispered under his breath. He could sense hatred in Cutt's eyes as he leveled them to his head. "Please, don't." he whispered once more as he pressed the switch on his lightsaber and felt Cutt apply pressure to the trigger. No return. In a swirl of blue, both of Cutt's hands fell harmlessly to the ground as a vertical slash separated the clone commander's torso from his hips. As his former ally crumbled, Vrudun was frozen in shock, vulnerable. "Commander Cutt, this is Trick. Has the traitor been terminated?" Silence.

"Commander Cutt, do you copy? All troopers, be advised. The Jedi traitor may have escaped, all nearby forces converge on AA Tower 2. All LAAT gunships, begin patrols in the surrounding area. All remaining Separatist forces are falling back

[Laiakia]

Coruscaunt Sublevel 3321

Tuka and his small patrol of clones were nearing their target. The civillians were all letting them pass quietly, but most threw glares at the Jedi. Most of those living down there didn't really like the Jedi, with their high and mighty temple and status as the protectors of the Republic. As they were walking, they came upon what appeared to be a crash-landing. On closer inspection, it seemed to be a Seperatist drop-pod. "This is not our main target, but i guess we should check it out." Stated Tuka. As they were nearing it, they saw a dozen or so B-1 Battledroid bodies without their weapons. All train of thought was interupted when a hail of blaster bolts came out of an alley. Tuka responded immidietly and activated his lightsabers and tried to deflect all of them. This succeded partially, but a stray bolt hit him in his left shoulder, causing him to drop his left saber. The clones, who dodged past the alley quickly, set their weapons to lethal and began firing into the dark alley, lit only by blaster fire. Tuka quickly evaded some more bolts and threw his activated lightsaber into the ally. All the blaster fire stopped, followed by wheezing and the return of his lightsaber. The lead clonetrooper picked up his other saber as two of other clones entered the alley. The lead clone bent down and inspected a decapitated body. "Civillians, sir. Seems like some anti-Jedi group.." Tuka sighed as he inspected his blaster wound. A sudden beep from the lead clone's holoprojector shook him out of his thoughts. The clone activated it and a hooded figure appeared. "Execute Order 66." The device was then turned off as all the clones surrounded Tuka. The Jedi Padawan looked around him with a worried face as he grasped his saber hard. "What was that?" He asked the lead clone. No response was heard as the clicking of blasters were cut short by the sound of an activating lightsaber as Tuka quickly blocked and attacked with ferocity. His mind was a mess of anger and questions. He threw his saber behind him as he Force Pulled his other saber from the lead clone's hand. He then covered the distance between them and tore him apart. The other clones watched in fear as limbs were severed with ease by an angered Tuka. Howerver, his rampage was cut short when the sound of running accompanied by the familiar sight of the Coruscaunt Guard. He was expecting help, but instead they began opening fire on him. Tuka quickly noted their numerical superiority of the clones and decided it would be best to fight another day, when he had cleaned up his thoughts. He quickly grabbed the lightsaber he threw with Force and began running and Force Jumping onto the roofs of buildings while evading blaster fire. His thoughts fell upon his former friends. They had betrayed him just like his childhood friend had. This angered him greatly, but he took a deep breath and continued running deeper into the sublevels of Coruscaunt.

[Tact]

Nirea Baize
Mirial
Sector 1233

The droid fell in half, flickering staff clattering to the ground and dying in one final burst of purple lightning as Nirea stepped into the Barbican's command centre. It was deathly quiet, save for the scrape of plastoid alloys against duracrete as the clones swept the room for any survivors. An ecclectic mix of species were slumped over control consoles, shimmering holos rotating in midair half-eclipsed by heads lacking the animating force to hold themselves aloft as Nirea cautiously deactivated her lightsabre. Something felt wrong here.

"Ma'am." A trooper reported, snapping to attention, "The area has been secured. We're setting up charges to destroy it, but we're undermanned on recon."

"On it." Nirea nodded, "Where do you need me?"

"Sewer line, three floors down. We sent a team down and they didn't report back."

Nirea said nothing more, bounding for the exit and vaulting down the twisting emergency staircase. She landed with a heavy thump, picking herself up after a moment and finding a small pit with a set of rungs disappearing down into a stream of brackish water. A heavy door had been hauled open - presumably by the clones, - but she didn't linger overlong on it before disappearing down into the tunnel below.

The stench was incredible and for a moment she threatened to gag, before her body slowly began to acclimate to the atmosphere and she managed to calm her stomach and mind. But as she did, and she brushed up against the Force, she felt something overwhelming crash down onto her, forcing her to her knees as she grappled futilely with the pain and loss reverberating inside and beyond her mind. A keening wail rose out of her mouth, echoing throughout the sewer tunnel like a banshee cry as her hands curled into fists.

"Ma'am?"

A clone, battered and bruised, armour scored and burned, was a way ahead of her, a second clone behind him carrying the limp body of a third with streaks of blood running down their armour from multiple gashes.

"Something happened." She said, "Something terrible just happened. We need to - we need to get out."

"We- one moment, Ma'am." The clone said, pulling out a communicator. As a hologram of another clone appeared Nirea settled back against the interior of the tunnel and tried to centre her emotions. Something had happened. It was happening. What could she do? What had it been? What was happening?

There was movement in the corner of her vision, a warning cutting through the haze of pain throughout the Force as her blade snapped up and out to deflect out the volley of income blaster bolts. Her eyes jumped between the two clones pouring fire into her, lightsabre moving almost without her input to keep a constant barrier between herself and the incoming fire. One bolt redirected, sending the first clone flying, before she stepped in and bisected the second at the chest. Her breathing came in short, sharp bursts as she tried to process what had happened.

After a moment she gave up and ran, footsteps splashing into the darkness and echoing around the tunnel's interior.

In the darkness, something heard them.

[Northern Poland]

Andejahi Harbea
Venator class Star Destroyer Blade of Retribution

That thought of unease from earlier, it returned again. How bothersome, but this time, no matter how hard he tried to push it out, it got louder, like someone was slamming a hammer against his skull. He stopped meditating, standing straight up in his chambers. Something was wrong, very wrong, and it was not a matter Andej could just toss aside this time, it had to be dealt with. He circled his room, looking at the artwork from planets he had lead the assault on, cultural artifacts, the likes. There was a Super Tactical droid strung up on his wall, still powered up, but de-activated. He looked at it, as the droid that had lead repeated assaults on republic forces hung there harmlessly. They actually had tactical skills, unlike the tactical droids before them.

Meanwhile, Commander Orell stood on the bridge of the Venator class star destroyer, looking out into the abyss. His holodisk beeped, as he brought it up to look at it. A hooded figure, its face partly covered by the simple robes it wore. It spoke a few words, "Execute Order 66."

The Commander and the closest clones stood glued to the floor, before the commander broke the silence, "It will be done, M'lord."

The Commander got on his comms, calling a squad of veteran clones to Rally near Andej's chambers. Once there, the clones readied their blasters, preparing for the task ahead. They marched towards the blast doors, the clone guards saluting and joining the squad, adding 2 to their numbers.

His head throbbed, as he grabbed his Phase 2 helmet, and examined it. Then the blast door behind him opened, and he sensed the blasters pointed at his center of mass. He had armor on, that could absorb maybe 2 blaster rounds, but he stood no chance if he was surrounded. However, he was a Jedi, and a relatively skilled one at that, he could break this. He wished this to not be true, that the clones he had fought alongside weren't pointing the guns that they had saved him with, to end him. He reached for his lightsaber on the belt of his armor, gripping it tightly. Commander Orell aimed, and that was the end of the clone's 20 odd year life. As Andej turned around and with a sweeping motion, cut the clone in 2, his torso falling to the floor where he once stood.


The other clones raised, as Andej forced jumped, kicking another clone in the forehead, his helmet cracking open at the visor, as the clone fell to the ground. He then turned around sweeping his lightsaber down at the clone next to him, cutting his left arm at the elbow. he then advanced, sending his lightsaber through his torso, barely missing the clone behind him. He then withdrew his lightsaber from the clone's torso, turning to face the remaining clones. They fired at his center of mass, which using Form III, he deflected the bolts, one striking a clone in the upper chest plate, sending him sprawling to the ground. Leaping forward and turning, he caught a clone square in the breastplate, cutting through his heart and part of his arm. A clone from behind fired, striking the Jedi in the backplate, burning partly through the armor and robe he wore. He turned around, throwing his lightsaber into his thigh, the clone kneeling in response to the pain.

He force pushed the other clone to the wall while pulling the lightsaber out of the clone's leg. With a swift motion, he cut the clone straight down the middle, his body falling apart. He advanced on the last clone, taking his helmet off, looking into the clone's eyes. Drawing his DC-17 from his holster, he put a blaster bolt right between his eyes, as the clone fell to the floor, steam rising from his head. Andej grabbed his own helmet from its pedestal on the wall, sliding it on.


He had a plan, and an escape route, he just needed some accomplices from the prison block, and maybe they would help him, or maybe he'd have to do this all on his own, that'd be a shame, wouldn't it?

[Brusia]

Martius Shan
Ord Radama
Marshes

"Great" Clone Sergeant Vex stated as he lead his squad through the wetlands of Ord Radama behind Martius towards the pillar of smoke billowing up from the shuttle wreckage "More muck. Was hoping we'd have seen the last of that on Umbara..."

"You and me both" Martius stated, after looking over his shoulder at the Clone "Could be worse though, at least it's not another blizzard like that fight on Anteevy."

"Fair enough" Vex replied with a chuckle "Definitely nice to be able to see more than two meters in front of us without having to use thermals."

As the group approached the edge of the marsh and neared the entrance to a forest, it was clear they were getting close, as debris and damaged trees could be seen directly down the path of the downed Separatist shuttle. Entering the forest, the group fell totally silent to avoid giving away their position and approached slowly and cautiously. Fortunately, the crash was bad enough that there was to be no fighting; the droid pilots were both destroyed beyond repair, and the Separatist commander could be seen struggling to free her leg out from under part of the shuttle wreckage. The group still approached with caution, watching closely to see if she had a weapon within reach, but when it was clear she was unarmed Martius approached the wounded Zygerrian woman and after getting a good look at her stated: "Well, well General Schinata; fancy meeting you here."

"Ah, General Shan, I might've guessed. I suppose you'll wish to discuss terms of surrend...ack!" the Zygerrian screeched in pain and grasped towards her trapped leg. "I'd very much appreciate it if you would get me out of here first though."

Martius nodded and signaled towards Vex who drew one of his blaster pistols and aimed it at the enemy commander.

"Really now" the woman stated "Do I seem particularly dangerous to you?"

"Maybe not" the Jedi replied "But in my experience it's often the things that seem least dangerous that get you." Raising his hand towards the wreckage, Martius then used the Force to lift the offending object off Schinata's leg while Maverick watched her closely for any sudden movements. The woman wisely made no hostile move, but did grab her injured leg as it began to bleed profusely once the wreckage was removed. Looking back towards the squad's medic, Martius asked: "Stitches, you have any bacta bandages?"

The clone nodded and tossed a bandage to Martius who then applied it over the Zygerrian's wounds. "Thank you General" she replied "I must say, I'm surprised a Jedi would show such mercy to one of my people; frankly were our roles reversed I believe I'd have left you for dead."

"I don't doubt it" Martius replied before standing back up and approaching Maverick "Contact the Victory and have a gunship pick us up at the forest's edge; no doubt Republic Intelligence will want to have a word with the General here as soon as possible."

"Yes sir" Vex replied, before grabbing his communicator only to find that it was signalling an incoming message "Just a moment General, I'm receiving a priority transmission from Coruscant..."

As Vex spoke, Martius suddenly stumbled back, nearly collapsing to the ground, as he sensed a terrible disturbance in the Force; like a Force Wound though of an unimaginable magnitude. Stitches approached Martius and put his hand on his shoulder asking: "You okay there General?"

"I...I don't know" Martius replied, grabbing his forehead. "I feel something terrible has happened... I think I should contact the Council."

"Of course General" Vex replied, still holding his communicator "Though perhaps we should answer this transmission first; if it's flagged high priority it may have some answers."

"Right..." Martius replied "Go ahead."

The Jedi would soon come to regret that decision, as Vex answered the comm only for a scarred and hooded figure to state: "Execute Order 66" then vanish.

Martius turned to Vex and asked: "Order 66? What is Order 66?"

Vex gave no reply, and in the span of an instant Martius sensed a change in Vex and all the clones around him; to the point they now felt to him more like droids than his colleagues. After a moment of silence, Vex and the other clones in his squad all raised their blasters towards Martius, as Vex stated: "Good soldiers follow orders..."

An instant before the group could open fire, Martius blasted a Force wave around himself, sending them all flying to the ground. Vex attempted to fire from the ground, but a quick downward thrust from Martius' lightsaber directly through his chest put an end to that before he could fire off a shot. As the other clones began standing back up and firing, Martius rapidly deflected their bolts towards their comrades, killing several clones, then made rapid Force speed enhanced dashes towards the remaining clones, cutting them down with his lightsaber. Once the last clone was struck down, Martius dropped his lightsaber and fell to his knees, struggling to process what had just happened.

General Schinata meanwhile looked at the dead clones in something of a state of shock, trying herself to piece together what had just happened. As she did, she noticed one of the clones on the ground begin to move, evidently still alive, and saw him lift his blaster towards the now unarmed Martius. Drawing a hidden holdout blaster from the small of her back, she aimed directly at the clone's head and fired, dropping him before he could kill Martius. The sound of the shot snapped Martius back into reality, and he quickly used the Force to pull the hold-out blaster out of the Zygerrian's hand then picked his lightsaber back up off the ground.

"Really now, was that necessary?" Schinata asked "I just saved your life; a little gratitude seems in order."

"Somehow I get the feeling that wasn't out of the kindness of your heart." Martius quipped in reply "I'm really not in the mood for games right now, so what is it you want?"

"Fine" Schinata replied "We may not exactly be the best of friends, but it seems to me we both have a common enemy at the moment, and we both need to get off this planet. Fortunately, I have a ship at a hidden platform deep within the forest that could allow us to do just that, but I'll never be able to make it there alone with my leg like this and you'll never be able to find it without my help. Working together however, we may just have a chance."

Shaking his head, Martius looked to the Zygerrian and asked "You really expect me to trust you after what you pulled on Garos IV?"

"For the record, I don't particularly relish the idea of having to trust you either." Schinata replied "But I don't see that either of us has much choice if we're going to make it out of this alive."

Taking a deep breath, Martius thought over his options. Much as he hated to admit it, until he understood better what exactly was happening, she was right. "Very well" he reluctantly replied "So where exactly is this ship of yours?"

"Nice try Jedi, but I don't trust you that much." Schinata replied before leaning back and flexing her knees just enough for an arm to fit under them "Seeing as I can't walk at the moment, I'll direct you towards the ship while you carry me."

"You have got to be kidding me" Martius replied.

"Not unless you want to spend the night deep in a forest with an army of clones chasing us because I limped along too slowly to make it before nightfall."

Martius sighed and rolled his eyes, then begrudgingly picked the Zygerrian woman up off the ground and carried her in his arms. "Now which way are we going?" he asked impatiently.

"Northeast for now" Schinata stated while pointing towards their goal "I'll let you know when we need to shift directions. Oh, and if you don't mind, I'd feel much safer if I had my blaster ba..."

"Don't push it." Martius interrupted as the pair made their way deeper into the forest...

[Sao Nova Europa]

Boom!

"What?" Yang wondered aloud. He was still in the Jedi library, reading archives on military tactics when he heard the sound of an explosion, followed by screams. "Do those Separatists have to ruin my day off?" he sighed and quickly hid himself behind a shelving. He wasn't going to rush into battle without an understanding of what was happening.

He grabbed his lightsaber and held it firmly, preparing for combat. He carefully moved out from his hiding position, to see what was happening. Instead of seeing battle droids, he saw clone troopers firing at Jedi. "I though they were on our side..." The clones were far too many and were overwhelming the few Jedi unlucky enough to be in the library. Despite their best attempts to fight back, hacking and slashing at their former comrades-in-arms, they were being shot down like animals.

Yang's heart raced, but he knew that he had to keep his emotions under control. Not because getting angry would lead him to the dark side - though it could - but because he knew that getting angry and emotional would cloud his judgement and prevent him from assessing in a logical manner the situation and making the most rational decision. Yang took deep breaths, still hiding behind a shelve from the clones. He knew he could not hide for long and that once all other Jedi in the library had been killed, he would be easily found. He had to use the distraction the other, few surviving Jedi provided to sneak outside the library, and then the Temple; he would be of no use to the Jedi or the light side dead.

As he stealthily, with slow, careful steps, sneaked his way out of the library, he suddenly found before him two clone troopers, who blocked his way out of the room. With a quick move, Yang ignited his lightsaber and stabbed it right through the chest of the first clone, killing him instantly. He removed his laser blade from the chest of the dead soldier and used it to deflect income blaster fire, coming from the second clone. Yang approached the trooper and with a swift move, he beheaded him.

With the two clones dead, Yang made his way out of the room. As he ran, trying to escape to one of the landing pads in the Jedi Temple - where he could steal a ship -, he was suddenly met by a squad of three clone troopers. Seeing the Jedi, they turned their rifles on him and were ready to shoot.

Yang closed his eyes, allowed himself to seal out everything happening besides him, and waved his hand as he said to the leader of the squad, "Your comrades are about to betray you." The clone at once turned his rifle at his two comrades. He shot the first right on the face, killing him instantly. He then shot his other, shocked comrade on the chest three times, murdering him too. Yang, meanwhile, was charging at the mind-controlled clone at full speed. With all his strength, he slammed his fist right on the clone's face and followed this with a swift but powerful back kick on his chest. The clone trooper collapsed on the ground.

Yang took off the clone's helmet and punched him again hard on the face, to ensure that he would not get up. With the clone unconscious, Yang quickly stripped him of his uniform. "This will be useful..." Taking quick glances to see if anyone was coming his way, Yang wore the clone uniform.

Now disguised as a clone trooper, he began making his way to one of the temple's landing pads...

[The Imperial Republic]

Denkoll Slums

---

The slums of Denkoll were completely devoid of life. Empty thirty story apartment complexes, wet markets, various government buildings, all locked shut with blinds down. He could still hear the intense fighting between the Separatist forces and his former ally, the Republic from far away. As he fled from the Anti-Air Tower array, his mind was awash with doubt, anger, and confusion after being forced to execute Commander Cutt. He stayed off the main streets, no matter if the area was empty and looked over by both sides.

"This is Commander Trick, all droids are pulling back to the main factory. Gunships, initiate your gun runs! We've got reinforcements!" Said Trick with an upbeat tone. The ground began to rumble and shake as Vrudun looked to the sky. The ship he arrived on, the Venator-Class Star Destroyer Edge of Eternity pierced through the clouds, shrouding the city in shadow as dozens of LAAT/I gunships spewed forth from the ship, carrying the rest of the Corps. With the A.A. guns destroyed, the planet would fall within the hour. For now, the Separatists were keeping the clones busy but once they would fall, their next mission would be to find him. He needed to get off planet as soon as possible. The loud engine whines of a Nu-Class Transport passing overhead shook the Jedi out of his focus as he quickly crouched under an awning in an alleyway. It looked different than those in regular service. This one was shrouded in dark red paint, white Republic emblems plastered on the wings and on the undercarriage. If he had to guess, they were sent just for him. Special forces. He immediately sprinted towards where the Transport was heading.

***

The chase would end several hundred yards north from Vrudun's initial position, in a large square clearing that was once home to tents and cloth market stands selling exotic fruits, weapons, armor, and slaves. The transport kicked up a massive dust storm as it landed on the soft sand of the market square. The wings folded upward as the three landing hydraulics whined as they settled. Immediately, the front exit door swooped down and out walked 5 clone commandos, their armor painted the same dark red with black visors. "Daz, Rax, and Mace, establish a perimeter. Gadget, send a ping to Commander Trick, let him know we've landed and are ready to receive reinforcements." Said one of the commandos, obviously the commanding officer of this squad. Vrudun turned down the volume of the comm unit he had on his wrist to avoid giving away his position.

"Commander Trick, Talon Squad is on-site and ready to receive." Said an electric-distorted voice over the comm.

"Copy that, Talon. Fifth Platoon is on their way. E.T.A. two minutes."

This wasn't good. The deployment of a commando squad with trooper support meant it was a mission that was far more important than wiping out the last of the resistance in Denkoll. They knew he fled in this direction and they dispatched this Talon Squad to deal with it. Commandos were ruthless, far more efficient than regular troopers, far more stronger. This wasn't a situation he could just slash away with his lightsaber. Commandos were smarter than that, they'd find him, wait for him to mess up, and then pounce. The troopers were probably meant to be a distraction, flush Vrudun out while Talon watched patiently, waiting for their moment. If the commandos weren't up to the task, it was protocol for the last member to call in his coordinates and the Venator above would initiate a scorched-earth policy. At that point, the entire city of Denkoll would be put to fire just to kill the Jedi. Slowly, he backed away from the crates he hid behind, taking shelter in a small cabin sandwiched between two larger apartment complexes. He turned to see something he wasn't expecting. A family. A female and two small children, cowering in a corner by the small kitchenette. Skakoans. Vrudun placed his index finger over his mouth, signalling for them to stay quiet. He turned back around and peaked through one of the shudders. An LAAT arrived on the far side of the square, dropping off thirty clone troopers, painted the standard Corps colors. Minutes passed as Vrudun kept his eyes on the activity of the clones as they seemed to be planning patrol routes. The one known as Daz returned to the Nu-Class transport, closing shut the door behind him. He was designated the overwatch officer, who would monitor cameras and vital signs of the troopers and commandos. A half hour would pass before the clone commandos and the troopers moved out in every direction. This would be his chance. With only one commando to deal with, he could take their Transport and leave. He'd have to stay low for a few hundred kilometers until he was outside of the Venator's weapons range, but after that, he could leave Metalorn. He turned back around to the family, who looked a little less scared than before. He nodded and opened up the door, staying low and moving out.

Vrudun moved back to the crates he was at previously, keeping his head on a swivel as he looked out for any other returning clones. He sprinted to the transport and knocked on the transport door as hard as he could and waited, lightsaber hilt in hand, waiting to activate. The door didn't open. Instead, he was met with a blaster bolt to his left shoulder blade. He screamed out in pain as he activated his lightsaber and began deflecting blaster bolts coming from every direction. He took another to the leg as the commandos and troopers came out of every street. "The Jedi fell for the trap, all troopers converge on the market square! Commander Trick, requesting reinforcements!" Said the leader of the commando squad. With little choices left, Vrudun plunged his lightsaber into bay door, cutting a circular hole in it as blaster bolts impacted the shuttle door. Bolts flooded the hole from inside as Daz lit up the hole with his DC-17 rifle. Vrudun turned and force pushed a group of over eager troopers away from him, sending them flying into empty crates. He turned, deflecting incoming bolts into three clone troopers, sending their bodies to the ground. Using the force, he pulled the ramp down, it's hydraulics whining as they defied the pull. Vrudun used force speed and dashed into the transport, ducking under Daz's blaster, burying his lightsaber into the commando's abdomen. In a last act of defiance, Daz screamed and sunk his hand-attached vibroblade deep into the Jedi's shoulder before being cut in half as Vrudun slung his lightsaber upwards, cutting through Daz's abdomen, neck and head. Injured and fading, Vrudun called down the pilot's seat from the cockpit as clone forces moved in. He plopped down into the seat and returned to the cockpit. In immense pain, he started the transport. They knew Vrudun thought. What if they never lost track of me...what if this was all according to their plan? Said Vrudun as a grenade flew over the cockpit window, missing it by only a few inches. The commandos were now using their grenade launchers to end this charade. The transport shook as one impacted with the right side wing as the ship rose from the ground. The damage was minimal as the bay door refused to close, it's hydraulics broken from the force pull. In the distance, he saw a squadron of ARC-170 starfighters and Alpha-3 V-Wing interceptors quickly approaching from the Venator. There was no way he was going to outrun them and get clear of the planet's atmosphere to activate the hyperdrive now. The best he could do was get as far away as he could before they shot him down, survived the crash and continued surviving for as long as he could. The Nu-Class flung away from the market at full speed. "This is Buzzer, I've got a visual on the Jedi!" Said the clone pilot as the squadron quickly closed in on the transport. Vrudun quickly left Denkoll behind as he sped across abandoned and decaying industrial plants and factorys. Bolts of energy whizzed past the transport as they closed in on weapons range. Vrudun cut the transport hard to the right and aimed the transport down, closing in on the concrete and old rusted pipes below. He dodged and weaved through old towers and buildings, keeping the clone starfighters behind from getting a good weapons lock. Eventually, the pipes and factories gave way to a massive trench that stretched on for several kilometers, once home to an extensive mining operation that dried up decades ago.

He slammed the controls down, sending the transport down into the trench as clone fighters followed close behind, sending sporadic bolts flying past. He leveled off at the bottom of the trench and sent it flying back up, twisting and turning as the transport exited the trench, hanging a hard left after getting clear of the walls on both sides. "Buzzer, be advised. This sector hasn't been swept yet, keep on the lookout for any Skakoan or droid forces." Said an unknown clone voice on the communicator. With that Vrudun straightened back out, entering another section of abandoned factories and pipes. A bolt smashed into the back of his transport as it began to smoke, red flashing system pings going off, signalling damage. This was it. They had their weapons lock and he prepared for the hit. Only, it didn't come. "Break off! Engage, engage! Vultures on our-" Buzzer's comm went offline as the exterior cameras caught Vulture droids sending Buzzer's ARC-170 spiraling down. He never thought he'd be so happy to see Separatists. The rest of the Republic starfighters broke off to deal with the dozen or so Vultures. Now that he was free to get off this planet, he didn't know where to go. He hadn't thought this far. Any Republic controlled world was now off-limits, as well as any Separatist world. Both sides, as of now, wanted the Jedi dead. With limited fuel, he had only enough for so far. Vrudun climbed into the atmosphere. The closest planet was Kijimi, an uncontrolled and snowy planet, mostly ruled by gangs. No Republic. No Separatists. He could land there, find a city and try to contact his former master, Jenassa Artine. As the transport left atmosphere, he looked to see two other Venator-Class Star Destroyers and several Acclamators enter the planet's orbit, dropping more clones. Metalorn would be conquered soon. He was also reaching the operational range of the communicator on his wrist when he heard one last transmission from Commander Trick.

"All forces, the central factory has fallen. All droid forces have been eliminated and Skakoan resistance is retreating. We've lost track of-of-of-" the signal was gone as Vrudun prepared the hyperdrive, just as his radar registered incoming Republic QRF squadrons from the Venators. They'd found him but were too late. Vrudun activated the hyperdrive and the Jedi Survivor was gone.

[Tact]

Model 442
Mirial
Sector 1233

Photoreceptors pulsed, echolocators pinged and a droid brain hummed softly to itself as spiderlike limbs clung to the roof of the tunnel. The newcomer was not attempting stealth, or if they were they were running through knee-deep sewer water and making more than enough noise to detect, and as such the droid knew they were coming from a way off. The data ran through its priority chain for a moment, ultimately settling on no action. There were branches they could take. There was every chance they might take one, avoiding the chamber it sought to guard. It could afford to wait.

One by one, the newcomer missed their chances at safety. They persisted in their course, twisting and turning on a beeline for the chamber, and the droid's brain readied itself for the hunt as they rounded the corner. Not clad in the armour of a clone. Not the face of a clone. The face of a Mirialan. Young, adolescent. Clad in what had likely been Jedi garb, though now torn by shrapnel, burned by fire and ruined by sewer water. A subroutine ran on recognising that, and a moment later it highlighted the small metal cylinder at their waist. A lightsabre. Combat protocols shifted.

The Jedi passed beneath the droid without noticing it, apparently blind to the world in their rush. It couldn't sense any communications devices on her. She was alone. She could not call for reinforcements. Combat protocols shifted. The Jedi was out of sight, and it began to move. Photoreceptors dimmed as it skittered down the wall and slid into the murky water below. It moved swiftly, skeletal digits digging deep into metal to propel it forwards in preparation for the attack. The water would slow down the Jedi, but it would also slow down the droid itself. The droid brain hummed softly to itself. Combat protocols shifted.

The Jedi was mere metres ahead, and the droid slowed itself. Percentages shifted as it calculated when it should strike. Were combat efficiencies worth letting them see the chamber? If they were alone they might be attempting to escape. The chamber might distract them. Combat protocols shifted once more. The Jedi was on the grate which signified the end of the tunnel now, climbing the steps which lead to the chamber. The droid tensed, ran one last simulation, and then it moved.

Water exploded as the droid launched itself upwards, razor-sharp claws tearing into the flesh of the back in sprays of blood as the Jedi threw themselves forwards onto the cold metal floor. They landed badly, injuring their right forearm as the droid skidded to a stop is sprays of sparks before launching itself at them once more. Claws screeched against metal and tore through empty air as the Jedi rolled out of the way, scrambling to their feet and igniting their lightsabre. Blood flowed freely down their leg, curling as it did like a possessive serpent. The droid paused for the briefest moment. A mid-guard. This suited its combat protocols, and it bounded forwards with liquid grace. Claws feinted, slashed, blurred and drew blood. An anguished cry went up from the Jedi, and they stumbled back clutching their side.

It was simply a matter of time now. The blood was flowing, and they would weaken. The Jedi was still holding a guard - modified a little the droid noted, and its combat protocols shifted - but it was already wavering somewhat. It prowled back and forth, feinted, waited for the Jedi to realise they would have to make the first move. Would they simply bleed to exhaustion? Their eyelids were closing, head tilting back slightly, and the droid exploited the momentary lapse to leap forwards swinging. Rending claws moved in glittering arcs towards the exposed throat, ready to tear apart the weakened Jedi.

The droid fell apart, neatly bisected from shoulder to hip. For a moment its photoreceptors still flickered, its mind still humming as its one useable arm reached out to stop her as Nirea moved to board the Sheathipede in the centre of the chamber.

And then everything went dark.

[Reverend Norv]

Jedi Master Fenn Verunas
Observation Deck
Consular-class Cruiser Clarity
Orbit of Mirial

You could see the fires from orbit. From a thousand miles high, you could see the dull red glow: shining through the clouds from below, backlighting them like distant lightning. War. Even Fenn Verunas, blind from birth like his whole species, could sense it: the Force showed him fire below, and death.

How did it come to this?

Fenn observed his own reaction. Some part of him - clinical, detached - wondered how long he would go on feeling this way. How many years of mourning still lay ahead: for the Republic that he had known, that he had argued and negotiated and legislated to save. The Republic that he had failed.

He did not recognize that Republic in this vast machine of faceless clones and star destroyers, this machine that set Mirial ablaze in the name of saving it. Even if we win, now, our inheritance will be ashes.

SR-2 hovered above Fenn's left shoulder: a smooth dun-colored dome with two large camera lenses, floating between two slowly rotating gyroscopic rings. The droid let out a beep: questioning, somewhat concerned. Fenn smiled, shook his head, touched the blindfold that covered his empty eye sockets. "Fine, SR. Fine."

The only reply was a deeply skeptical beeeep. Fenn chuckled, then cocked his head; a presence tingled at the edge of his awareness, a soul ill-formed and rushed. A split-second later, the metal door to the observation deck whirred open, and Fenn's Force senses received their confirmation: a clone trooper entered. "Your shuttle is ready, General."

Fenn Verunas did not like being called "General." For more than a decade, the galaxy had called him "Ambassador." If ambassadors had done our job properly, there would have been no need for generals.

He also did not like clones. Unlike almost every other Jedi, Fenn had never led a legion. He had led Twi'leks on Ryloth, Mon Calamari on their homeworld, human rebels on Onduron. Insurgents and troublemakers of every stripe and species. But these faceless men bred for war in test tubes - they were strangers to Fenn. And when he reached out to them with the Force, when he touched their minds, they almost all felt the same: crude clay spirits, formed by a careless potter and fired too hot, too quickly.

But there was still life in those spirits: and a long time ago, Qui-Gon Jinn had taught Fenn that where life dwelled, the Force dwelled also. So the Jedi nodded. "Thank you," he said quietly.

Had he eyes, he would have looked over his shoulder, then, one last time through the armored glass of the observation deck. As it was, he wondered how, in all the vastness of the galaxy, it was possible at once to be so close and so far from a fifteen-year-old girl, fighting for her life amid all that fire. Fenn hoped that girl would live, not just survive; that there would be some life worth living for her, on the far side of all of this.

It was the last thing he thought, before he felt it.

Emptiness. All the Jedi Fenn had known and fought alongside, argued with, loved, envied, hoped for: all, suddenly, were simply gone. A vast void expanded, somewhere between Fenn's mind and the world, and before he could outrun it, it had caught him, and everything was cold and still. A candle silently extinguished.

Fenn Verunas felt his knees buckle. Crumpled on the floor, he opened his mouth, and bile dripped from his lips. From far away, he heard SR-2 emit a panicked series of beeps. Feebly, he turned his head, and struggled to see without eyes, to see with the Force at a moment when all the Force brought was pain.

The clone trooper had his blaster aimed and ready. Fenn could hear that rushed, ill-formed clay mind whisper: Good soldiers follow orders.

"Stop." Fenn spat out the word, and put his will behind it. He felt the Force move between himself and the clone trooper. The clone did not fire. Fenn could hear him gasping for breath inside his helmet: caught between two orders, unable to disobey either.

"Good - soldiers - " the clone whimpered. Fenn struggled to his feet on legs that felt like rubber. He stepped closer to the clone. He could feel it, now: some machine-will inside the trooper's mind, something foreign and metal that brooked no defiance. It was straining against the power of Fenn's command. Fenn did not know which would win.

The Jedi extended one palm toward the trooper's forehead. Without words, he told the clone: your brain has no oxygen. And in an instant, the trooper went limp, and crumpled to the ground in a dead faint.

Fenn reached out a hand to the wall, and steadied himself. SR-2 was still beeping at him: urgent, frantic. "I know," Fenn whispered. He spat, and tasted stomach acid. "I know. We have to move."

A second before it happened, he knew that the door of the observation deck was about to open again: he could feel the spirits on the other side, all rushed pottery and iron command. There was no other choice, then: no time to negotiate, or persuade, or inspire.

When the door whirred open, Fenn's lightsaber was already in his hand. There were a dozen clones on the other side. One of them rolled a grenade through the still-moving door; Fenn flicked a finger, and it flew to the other side of the deck. He felt the heat of the detonation on the side of his face. Then the air was filled with blaster fire, and the green blade of Fenn's saber flicked a few centimeters to the left, and then to the right; up, then down. Tiny, precise motions - twenty or thirty of them in the course of a second - responding to each blaster shot before it was even fired.

The shooting stopped. The smoke of the grenade blast could not obscure Fenn's eyeless sight. The bodies of the troopers lay piled upon each other, knee-high. Blood pooled around them, pouring steadily from the wounds where their blaster fire had ricocheted back upon them, steaming on the metal floor. The door whirred as it tried to close, and the press of corpses held it open.

From SR-2, a decisive boop. "Escape pod." Fenn nodded shakily. "Yes." He extinguished his lightsaber. The clones' blood clung to his boots as he leaped over the pile of bodies, the Force carrying him just a little higher and a little further than a normal man could jump. He turned to the droid. "Why? And why now?" He did not have to look back over his shoulder to see the bodies. "Were they just - waiting? All this time? For - "

Beeeeeeep. SR-2 was insistent. Fenn nodded again. "Escape pod. Yes." The droid floated ahead of Fenn, leading him through the corridors of the ship: left, then right, then left again. Another door. Fenn waved one hand, and felt the Force move, and the door opened: metal screamed in protest, then yielded.

There were five clones on the other side, standing between Fenn and the escape pod hatches. Their white armor was daubed with blood-red markings. They carried electrostaffs; Fenn could smell the ozone in the air, making the hair on his neck stand up. There was no conflict in the shock troopers' minds: the iron machine-will that drove them on was welcome. They had been waiting for this day.

Fenn's lightsaber ignited. He spaced his hands well apart on the hilt, and drew it close to his body, with the blade steady beside him.

He felt no fear from these clones: excitement and anxiety mingled in them, spiked with adrenaline. But no fear. One of them growled: "The blind Jedi."

"Not blind," Fenn said quietly.

He knew that the clone would attack a second before it happened. He knew where the clone would step. He focused, and the clone's foot slipped on the metal floor for no evident reason. With brutal efficiency, Fenn thrust his lightsaber through the trooper's helmet as he fell. He died without a sound.

Fenn listened with the Force. Now the others felt fear.

The next three attacked at once, from three different directions, electrostaffs blurring through deadly arcs. Fenn listened to their minds, and his lightsaber made those tiny, precise motions: blocking attacks before they could gather speed, preempting sidesteps and counters as soon as the idea occurred to the clones to make them. From one shock trooper, Fenn felt frustration; the clone shifted his grip on his electrostaff, and Fenn reached out with his mind and made a sudden, precise pull. The staff flew out of the trooper's hands and over Fenn's shoulder, to embed itself in the helmet of a second clone. As that trooper fell, the first clone reached for his sidearm. Fenn parried a blow from the third clone, and kicked the disarmed trooper in the side of the knee. Bone snapped, and the man fell, shrieking. The third clone took a step back; Fenn moved his left hand, and the trooper tripped. Fenn's blade carved through his chest as he fell.

There was only one shock trooper left. The man shook his head. "I don't want to."

"Then don't," Fenn said.

The clone's hands shook on his weapon. "Good - soldiers - "

You cannot see, Fenn told the trooper with his mind. The clone gasped in surprise and his hands flew to his helmet's visor. Fenn cut him in half at the waist with his lightsaber.

The Jedi Master's breath came light and steady. It should be heavy, Fenn thought; ragged, desperate. But only the soul was exhausted. The body was impossibly, infuriatingly calm.

SR-2 beeped persistently at Fenn's shoulder. "I know they're coming," the Miraluka replied briefly. It was true: he could hear the minds moving toward him, driven by that machine-order. Too many minds.

Fenn extinguished his lightsaber and slapped the access panel beside an escape pod hatch. The hatch opened, and he swung inside. The safety harness automatically lowered over his torso. SR-2 bundled in alongside him, and the droid's gyroscopic rings ceased their motion as it wedged itself into place.

Then there was a hum as the escape pod sealed. A nausea-inducing lurch as it detached from the starship, and then another as its thrusters fired. Acceleration: the G-force rippled the flesh of Fenn's face. With no eyes, his vision could not grey; but he felt the pressure build in the veins of his forehead until his temples throbbed, forcing him toward the edge of consciousness. "Wake me when we land," Fenn whispered, and SR-2 answered with a comforting whir.

Then Fenn Verunas sighed, and let the darkness swallow him.

* * *

Beeep.

Beeep. Beep-beep-beeeeeep. Beep! Beeep.

Cold; dry, bracing cold. Fenn furrowed his brow. The sun was weak, its warmth gentle on the tender skin of his eye sockets.

Beep.

The top of the escape pod had come off in the crash. Fenn reached for the safety harness and slapped the release. Nothing happened. "Always," the Jedi grunted with resigned annoyance. His lightsaber flashed once, and the harness straps fell away. With a groan, Fenn sat up in the ruined pod.

Beep?

"Old, that's how I feel." The Miraluka tugged his blindfold until it covered his empty sockets again. He considered counting how many sprains he felt, and decided against it. Instead, he breathed out, and let the Force show him where he was.

Dark green forest. Frosty ground. Nearby, on the far side of a beautiful meadow, a small rural spaceport: a few landing pads, one or two hangars. Beyond that, a little town.

Nothing was burning here. The war could be on a different world. But there was no way of knowing which side of the lines Fenn was on.

Then he remembered: it didn't matter anymore.

Fenn forced the thought away - the memory, and the nausea, and all the unanswered questions. Keep living. Where life dwells, the Force dwells also.

The Jedi struggled free of the wreckage of the escape pod. SR-2 made an approving whir, and rose into the air. "Yeah," Fenn agreed. "The spaceport. At least for now." He set off at a brisk walk, legs swinging in an easy gait that could cover the miles quickly.

He was about halfway to the spaceport, trudging through a meadow of tall grass and wildflowers, when he heard it: the droning roar of shuttle engines. Fenn cocked his head - sensing instead of looking, reaching out with the Force. And felt -

Pain. Panic. Loss. Self-control like a scab, like scar tissue stretched to the splitting point. The shuttle weaving in the air, hands slick with blood on the controls. And beneath it all -

Presence. Presence in the Force. Looking back at him.

Nirea.

"Land." Fenn spoke calmly, and he knew that the Padawan flying the shuttle would hear his words in her own mind. "There are friends here. Land." He felt his hand shake, and a muscle flickered in the corner of his jaw. "You are not alone."

[Tact]

Nirea Baize
Mirial
Sheathipede Shuttle

Nirea jolted awake, memories of her fitful dreaming slipping away into a dark mist of thrumming lightsabres and metallic claws and blood. Her skin was slick with sweat, along with thin trickles of crimson still running down her arm and encrusting her robes. Or, what remained of her robes. Soaked in blood, oil and sewer water, the dust of the plains she'd first been commanding a Legion on still filling its folds, the fabric felt at once coarse and slimy, and shredded by the day's battles it hung loosely on her like a knot of eels.

Gingerly, she picked herself up off of the floor. The puddle of blood underneath her was mostly dry, but still there was a disquieting sucking sensation as she tried to pull herself away from it and staggered towards the pilot compartment. The ground rushing past was rural, verdant and green. A far cry from the orange dust surrounding the Barbican. Idly, she wondered how long she'd been out, then pushed that thought aside. As long as there was a way off-planet up ahead. She could worry about everything else later.

"How far to the spaceport?"

A cluster of lights slowly brightened, forming a crude eye as the shuttle's droid brain processed the question.

"Travel distance: nineteen-point-seven-two miles." An impossibly deep, gratingly metallic voice replied, "Travel time: twenty-three minutes, fifteen seconds."

Nirea let herself sag against the wall slightly.

"And no sign of pursuit?"

"Pursuit attempted by - two - starfighters." The voice ground out, "Pursuit ended at: one-one-three-four."

Nirea checked the holo. Just past two. Her brow furrowed slightly as a moment of realisation struck her.

"Wait, how did you manage to evade starfighters?"

"Pursuit attempted through dust-storm."

The bluntness of the answer stunned her for a moment.

"You flew through a dust-storm?"

"Affirmative."

For a moment she was speechless, then something hit her.

"Force protect, they know we're coming here. Are there any other fighters on your sensors?"

"Sensors detect - three - freighters and - one - escape pod, - zero - fighters."

"Escape pod?"

"Affirmative."

"Where? What's it from? Who's there?"

"Escape pod distance: eight-point-one-one miles. Additional information: unknown."

Nirea closed her eyes, concentrating inwards as she attempted to strangle her emotions into calm. The Force flickered at the edge of her awareness, taunting her, threatening to let impatience and frustration and fear and exhaustion pile up and overwhelm her together. She fought them tooth and nail, plunging her mind into still waters and holding it down as she felt herself start to achieve harmony with the Force for flickering instants. Confused flashes of guidance, short and garbled - and mixed with the fear and pain and death still reverberating in her mind and the Force both - flashed across her mind like shooting stars.

And then there was someone else in her mind - in the Force? She couldn't tell - with her, words vanishing from her mind even as the meaning echoed like a drum-beat. Her mental guard sprang up, the closest core of her mind and soul doing what it could to seal itself up away from prying eyes even as she began to turn over the meaning. Friends nearby. Land. And snatches of - sensation? An open field. Not the escape pod - but possibly from there? Had there been Jedi with the fleet? She couldn't remember, her memories of anything since waking up seemingly vanished into the mists of time. The last time she'd been on a spaceship could have been decades ago.

"Set us down." She said after a moment's deliberation.

She could feel the shuttle slowing to a stop, then nothing. The voice spoke:

"Ground insufficient for landing."

"Then take us down to a metre off of the ground and open the rear access hatch, chipbrain." Nirea spat.

"Affirmative."

If the droid brain noticed - or could notice - the poisonous look she directed at it, there was no indication of it. The descent was quick but smooth, the rear hatch opening and the ramp descending before the craft had fully finished its descent, and Nirea dropped down the last metre to the grassy ground below. Her knees buckled, threatened to give out, before she clawed back control and pulled herself upright against the screaming protestations of her body, the remains of her robes slithering into new positions over her body as she appraised the oncoming figure.

He was a Jedi, she was confident. The robes, the lightsabre at his waist, the bearing - it matched for a Jedi. Or a good impersonator, something sly and scared whispered from the back of her mind, If the clones were waiting to ambush you, can you trust anyone? For a moment doubt split her mind, then as the figure approached closer her senses - closed-off and guarded though they were - felt his presence in the Force. It was powerful, yet surprisingly gentle, something which rested lightly on the Force despite itself. And his face - she'd seen it a few times before, in holos probably, but she had neither the energy nor the mental clarity to pin a name to it. Just the idea that he was a Consular. And a Master.

She bowed as deep as her wounds would allow, wincing at its nadir before rising fully.

"Master." She greeted him, "It's gone to Krath in the fleet too?"

[Laiakia]

Coruscaunt Sublevel 3321 Ventilation Shaft

Tuka was currently stood in the midst of a thinning crowd exiting a freighter. He had manadged to evade the clone patrols and had arrived at the main entrance point of the sublevel. A relatively large patrol of clones, approximatly 30, were currently doing backgound checks on some people a few meters away and two clones were currently approaching the crowd. Tuka looked around and decided to try to go for the transport, but just as he began moving, the freighter shut it's doors and began decending. "Great.", he thought. "What more could possibly ruin my day more now?" It was at that moment that Tuka realized the clones were headed for him.

He groaned internally as he looked at his enviroment. His main goal would be to somehow manadge to get into a vehicle, so he needed to get somewhere high. The ventilation shaft dominated his front and the clones were approaching from behind. His eyes then landed on a conviniently placed set of crates that formed a makeshift staircase that lead onto a small maintenance platform. "This will do, then!" He thought. He then looked back at the clones and began sprinting towards the crates. The clones immidietly noticed this and shouted for the rest of the patrol. Tuka looked forward as he began scrambling up the crates, only hindered slightly by his wounded arm and the blasters of the clones. He quickly got to the top and went towards the platform. The rest of the clone patrol joined up with the two other clones and began shooting at Tuka. Just as he reached the end of the platform and the clones began climbing, a freighter conviniently appeared 5 meters away from Tuka. He looked between the gap of and clones and groaned, then ramped over the small railing of the platform and launched himself into a conviniently open cargo door. The freighter, still unaware of the fugitive aboard, continued to go up. The clones had now reached the platform and were now requesting support. That was all Tuka could hear before the cargo doors shut by motion sensors. He now thought about his next move, which would be to escape the planet and try to find any other Jedi. he then looked around at the various cargo containers. He walked over to a small one and examined a small note on top of it that indicated that it would be transported from Coruscaunt to Naboo. Now, he simply had to wait until the freighter left Coruscaunt and he would be golden. He groaned as he sat down on the floor and felt his blaster wound. He removed his robes and let his eyes close. At last he could rest for a bit.

[Brusia]

Martius Shan
Ord Radama
Forest

After a lengthy walk through the forest Martius and General Schinata finally approached the Zygerrian's hidden landing pad, with a well concealed GX-1 Diplomatic Ship sitting atop it.

Examining the craft Martius stated: “Was hoping for something a little better armed, but I suppose that’ll do.”

“Typical Jedi mentality” Schinata replied while rolling her eyes. “Just because the Last Resort here isn’t bristling with turbolasers doesn’t mean it’s poorly armed; it’s simply armed with a different sort of weapon.”

“And what sort would that be?”

“The sort that makes certain you won’t be fired on in the first place: a diplomatic transponder code from the Council of Neutral Systems.”

Martius shook his head and scoffed: “So that’s how you made it off Garos IV before we stormed your command center? Masquerading as a diplomat and abusing diplomatic immunity?”

“Indeed” Schinata replied “And that’s how I’m going to get us off this planet now.” Clearing her throat and looking up at Martius, she continued: “That is if you’d care to put me down first...”

Martius had been carrying the Zygerrian for so long at that point he hadn’t even thought about the fact that she was still cradled in his arms, and after blushing abit at having to be reminded, replied: “As you wish” and sent the Zygerrian plummeting towards the grass, landing with an unceremonious thud.

Pushing herself up off the ground and wiping the dirt off her dress, she stated: “That wasn’t quite what I meant.”

“Might want to be more specific in the future than.” Martius replied with a grin as he made his way towards the ship’s boarding ramp. Standing beside it, he motioned towards the ramp with one hand and stated: "After you."

"Now we're playing the gentleman?" Schinata asked, as she approached the ship. "A little late for that, wouldn't you say?"

"Well, unless you'd prefer to give me your access codes." Martius replied.

"Not likely" Schinata replied with a smirk. Walking up the boarding ramp, she approached a small keypad and input a code, making sure her body was between Martius and the keypad so he couldn't see her fingers. Once she finished, the door opened with a pneumatic *whish* and the two made their way inside and to the cockpit.

Since it was her ship, Schinata took the pilot's seat and Martius sat beside her in the co-pilot's seat, and the two flipped the various switches and toggles necessary to power the Last Resort on and fire up its engines. "So, where to?" Schinata asked as she activated the navigation system. "I think we can safely say Republic Space is out of the question, so perhaps Zygerria or Serenno?"

"Somehow the thought of ending up in a Separatist jail doesn't particularly appeal to me." Martius replied. "I think a neutral system where neither of us will be shot or imprisoned would be the best option."

"Fair enough" Schinata replied. "I do have an old contact on Nar Shaddaa I could reach out to; not exactly my favorite planet in the Galaxy, but it's certainly neutral enough."

"Can't say I'm overly fond of heading into Hutt Space either, but I suppose it's as good a place as any to lay low until we can figure out what's going on."

"Nar Shaddaa it is than" Schinata replied, as she punched the coordinates into the Navicomputer. "Now let's just hope your men don't see through our codes and decide to kill us before we can leave the system."

With that the Zygerrian took off, and the two could only wait in silent anticipation as they left the planet's atmosphere and entered scanning range of the Victory...

---

Meanwhile...

Admiral Nalora stood on the Bridge of the Victory still in a state of shock after being told that the Jedi had attempted to overthrow the Chancellor. For hours now she'd been trying to make sense of it; of how the Republic's fiercest defenders could so suddenly turn against the institution they held most dear, but she just couldn't wrap her head around it. Worse still was the notion that her friend Martius, a man she'd fought alongside with for years, might somehow be involved. For as long as she'd known him, he'd shown nothing but dedication and loyalty to the Republic, but she had now been informed he had a capture or kill order out against him for betraying it. She thought perhaps it might be some sort of mistake, that he was only wanted for questioning rather than involved himself and that the wrong order had been sent out, but she had been unable to reach the Chancellor's office for confirmation.

As she stood there thinking, Nalora was suddenly approached by a clone officer informing her: "Pardon me Admiral, but we've just picked up an unauthorized ship entering scanning range. It's transponder code has it registered as a diplomatic vessel from the Council of Neutral Systems, but they aren't responding to our communications; should we send fighters to intercept?

Nalora stood silent for a moment, then with a little grin replied: "No, we wouldn't want to be responsible for creating a diplomatic incident with the Council of Neutral Systems; better to let them pass."

"Understood Admiral" the clone replied before walking away.

"Besides" Nalora muttered under breath "At the very least I owe him a head start..."

[The Imperial Republic]

Kijimi

The Shuttle whined as it's hyperspace drive cycled down, approaching the icy planet. For the trip, Vrudun closed his eyes and focused only on the Force, helping him along. The blood from his shoulder had coated his tunic in a darker color, wet and sticking to his body. He had no bacta and he was quickly fading. His vision grew blurrier by the moment, but he had to focus, focus on the Force, on his past decisions, his mistakes, and the few things he'd gotten right in life. He knew the end was coming for him, when he'd become one with the Force. Maybe he'd hear Jenassa's voice one last time, perhaps in the deepest hollows of his mind. The bright blue shines faded low and within pico-seconds, the planet Kijimi was upon him. His breathing grew labored as his mind grew confused, his forehead sweating. The shuttle shook violently as it pushed itself forward through the planet's atmosphere, blue and red hot light danced across the cockpit window that was eventually replaced with white sheets of snow and thick cloud. Vrudun shook his head, a last attempt to refocus himself as he applied pressure to the wound on his shoulder, a parting gift from a commando. A "thank you for your service" and "die traitor" wrapped up in a nice thin sliver of metal. He could still feel his nerves quivering from the electric shock of the blade's vibrating effects.

The clouds eventually gave way to icy plains and jagged ice sticking up out of the ground as far as the eye could see. On the shuttle's radar, he could see Kijimi City still thirty-two kilometers north. The shuttle could make it, but he wouldn't. He grabbed hold of the controls as his eyes grew heavy. The ship's auto-pilot capabilities were shot in the fight on Metalorn, not that it would matter. He could have programmed the shuttle to land at Kijimi City, present his dead body to all the city to see. It wouldn't matter. This cold, inhospitable, desolate place would be his grave. With what little strength he had, he landed the shuttle, the landing gears digging into the ground, sending mounds of ice, snow and dirt flying before the ship finally came to a complete stop. He listened to the quiet hum as the shuttle's engines cycled down and systems switching into secondary mode. He leaned back into the chair, relaxing for the first time in a long time. He felt no pain anymore and he was growing more and more comfortable with the idea of passing on, of becoming one with the Force. There was nothing he could have done to prevent any of this, whatever Order 66 was, whatever made his clones turn against him, the feeling of so many souls perishing. He'd already surmised that this was most likely the fate of other Jedi as well. It wouldn't have made sense for this to be an isolated incident. Maybe he was the last Jedi in the Galaxy or perhaps some survived. He was past the time to question, it wouldn't matter to him here in the next few minutes. His head felt heavy as there was nothing to keep him from dropping it lower and lower, his eyes closed as his breathing became quieter. Within seconds, Vrudun Tumara fell silent as the Republic Eta-Class Shuttle beeped and chimed quietly, pumping out heated air from the vents inside the cockpit, helping Vrudun remain comfortable for his last few moments.

[Revlona]

Jedi Knight Nardrashtasch


There is no emotion; there is peace, there is no ignorance; there is knowledge, there is no passion, there is serenity, there is no death; there is the Force.

Nardrashtasch, otherwise known as Nard, sat quietly upon his personal bed in his sleeping quarters. The bed itself was just the right size for the Wookie Jedi, around 9 and a half feet long so as to comfortably fit his entire 8 foot frame. Nards legs were crossed and his hands folded in his lap, his eyes were closed, and mind in a sense of peace. Meditation was not something that Nard often got to do since the war began near two years earlier, so ever since his wounding and healing, Nard had taken every chance he could get to find and soak in his inner peace. It was a calming and happy sensation, or, it was supposed to be.

The fur covered face of the Jedi Knight came together tightly in a grimace of pain and discomfort. Something wasn't right, something had happened. A feeling of dread a had hit him like a wave and it was all Nard could do to rip himself from his meditative state and into reality once more. He came to a decision immediately, he needed to speak to a Master of the Council about the feeling, Master Yoda was off world on Nards home planet, but Master Windu was still in the temple he hoped.

Nard stood from the bed and quickly dressed himself, donning the robes of a Jedi Knight before using the force to pull his saber staff to him and clip it on his hip. He moved to the door, pressing a key on the panel beside it as he did. The door slid open and Nard stepped out into the Empty hallway. It was then that he heard the screams. He immediately began making his way in that direction, cutting through several shortcuts that he knew of to reach where he thought the screams were coming from. As he entered another hallway, he spotted a squad of near 10 clone troopers who looked ready for battle and where sweeping the area with their weapons.

Nard put a hand up to call to them, but before he could get the words out a young Female Human Knight came running around the corner directly towards the squad. Without hesitation the clone raised their blaster and opened fire with dozens of shots towards the girl who looked like she had just attained her Knighthood. The girl stopped, her lightsaber already activated, and managed to deflect several of the projectiles, even sending one back to hit a clone. But numbers soon told and one of the shots got through her defenses and struck her in the lower torso, she bent over in pain and did not see the next half a dozen blaster shots that ended her life.

Nard is a calm and gentle creature regularly, but he is still a wookie, and upon seeing the way the young Knight had been slaughtered by those that had once been their allies sent Nard in to a murderous rage. With a howl of pure anger the Wookie Jedi charged the clone troopers, activating his saber staff on one side as he did. The clones turned to face him, but none in time to get off any shots. The first clone the jedi reached was cut down quickly, the blade searing through his armor at chest level. The next caught the other end of the Saberstaff as it was activated and thrust through him.

The clones at this point began to react better, several raised their blasters and were about to fire when a thrust of Nards free hand sent half a dozen of them flying. With the same hand Nard grabbed hold of one of the still standing clones and the immense strength of his species he hurled him at the wall, hearing a sick crunch as the soldier impacted the wall. The last one raised his weapon and shot at the Jedi Knight, but this was quickly turned on him as the Jedi easily deflected the single bolt back at the clone, striking him in the torso and sending him to the ground.

With a deep exhale the Wookie calmed himself, deactivating his staff and taking stock of the situation he had just ended. The clones who had been within arms reach of the wookie were all dead. The ones he had force pushed into the wall were either unconscious or dying. It was then that Nardrashtasch fully became aware of what just happened. The clones, their comrades in arms for two long years of war had seemingly turned on them. It saddened the Giant Jedi, and a bestial groan of anguish escaped him.

He walked over to the Knight that had fallen and could feel through the force that she was dead. He took her body and layed her down on her back, she looked much younger than before in death he realized as he crossed her arms and placed her lightsaber upon her chest. He bowed his head once in her memory before turning and running towards a lesser known service entrance on the lower levels. If he could escape that way and charter a ship he might be able to link up with whatever resistance had formed. He knew Wookies were not a common sight and Wookie Jedi even less of one so if he changed his clothings as soon as possible and hid his saber the only suspicion he should raise was for being a wookie and not a Jedi.

[Dentali]

Berethon Horn
Enarc, Enarc System Alui Sector, Mid Rim

Horn placed the explosives on the engine of the H-2 Executive Shuttle parked in the Enarc Spaceport. I belonged to a Separatist Senator visiting the port and would explode when it tried to leave the system. The team of Berethon Horn was similarly disposed, teams of 3 sneaking aboard shuttles, freighters and such and planting explosives, hacking into the ports databases for information and in general causing havoc. It was midway through arming the explosive that Horn felt his chest rend open, a great disturbance in the force.

He nearly collapsed from the stain and immediately broke out into a cold sweat, the two Republic Commandos behind him were saying something he couldnt make out and they were approaching him. "To help?" Thought Berethon to himself as he heard a blaster power up "No... What?" It was all Horn could do to get his lightsaber up in time, blocking 3 of the blaster bolt, 2 missed but one found its mark hitting him in the gut.

He doubled over but instinct soon kicked in, giving himself over to the force he enhanced his speed and leapt at the clones, cutting them down. By the time he had recovered he stood above his two comrades, two he had fought alongside for years but had tried to kill him... two he had slain."Repeat do you copy?" a voice from an communicator device squealed under the body of one of the slain. "Has the Jedi been eliminated?"

[The Imperial Republic]

Lord Vader
East Corridor, Jedi Temple

---

Blue bolts whizzed past Vader's head as an unfortunate clone behind him took the blow, his body collapsing as his brothers moved past him, targeting Temple Security Force troopers and a few Jedi Padawans that continued to defy them, their blue and green blades deflecting bolts and proving to be a thorn in the side of Lord Vader's 501st Legion. Vader slung his blade past him, deflecting a bolt back at a human Security Force member, catching it in the shoulder as he dropped, wincing in pain. Faced with little choice as his defense forces continued to fall, a brave Trandoshan Padawan took charge, sprinting to Lord Vader, his green blade raised high for an overhead slash. Vader humored the pathetic Jedi, raising his own blade to block. The Trandoshan grunted and groaned as he established a relentless assault of lunges and strikes as clone troopers moved past the two, engaging the dwindling Jedi and security force members. "You....traitor!" Screamed the Trandoshan just as the Padawan recovered from a deflected left side slash, moving for another overhead slash. Vader raised his left hand and the Padawan choked, dropping his blade as he placed both his hands around his own throat, gasping for air as he was lifted from the ground. "Rikt!" screamed a feminine voice from beyond. She had dropped her guard, so concerned for the life of her fellow Padawan that she, for a split second, gave a lucky clone time to line up his blaster's sights with her head. Her concerns were gone in an instant. Rikt continued to gasp for air as Vader set his lightsaber up and towards the Jedi. Vader brought the Jedi in, impaling him with his blade. He suffered for a moment, his body tensing up and his mouth agape as the blue light shined on the Trandoshan's chin. Vader released his hold and deactivated his blade, allowing the body to fall just as his clone troopers made quick work of the resistance beyond him, the last of the Jedi Padawans falling as a couple of security force members fled.

The Temple shook as a massive explosion occurred on the lower levels, an LAAT gunship silencing a pack of Jedi Knights that were putting up enough of a fight to warrant such a heavy response. "This is Commander Appo, the holocrons have been secured! Primary objective is termination of all enemy forces!" Commander Appo was drowned out as dozens of other clones reported in their positions and statuses. "This is CT-6685! We've captured the back entrance! Requesting LAAT overhead support!"

"This is Crest! Encountering heavy resistance in the training rooms! Requesting immediate-ahh!"

He could sense it now. The presence of one who desperately begged for Vader's attention. The Temple's own Battlemaster, Cin Drallig. From the many reports coming in from his clone forces, Master Drallig was becoming a plague among them. Nothing could stop the fall of the Order, no matter how many clones were killed, no matter how long it took. But it would be Vader who was placed in charge of the elimination of high value targets, such as Cin Drallig. The hunt was on. From the East Corridor, Vader continued his mission, occasionally engaging a lost Padawan or Knight that had slipped through the Clone assault force. The few that attacked him were far below Lord Vader's skills. They were too slow or just inexperienced and they would lose their life. Listening to the clone channels, he gauged Drallig's position as he gathered support with every clone squad he sent to their deaths. He was close now.

First Knowledge Quarter
Briefing Room C3

---

He hadn't found Drallig, but he did find the next best: Serra Keto, Master Drallig's former apprentice. As was the case with so many fallen Jedi, she would engage, attack him. Keto began her assault, unleashing furious whirlwind attacks with her two green lightsabers. The battle would extend from the briefing room to a nearby training room before Lord Vader ended her stubborn defense with a well placed pillar, collapsing it on top of her and ending her life. She had learned much from the Battlemaster, but her trust in her skill with a lightsaber was misplaced and outmatched by Vader's skill with both saber and Force.Though Master Drallig had escaped for the moment, communication between the 501st pinned him at the base of the Temple, escorting younglings out of the Temple. With haste, Lord Vader moved to him. It was there, in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, that Cin Drallig awaited, a squadron of Padawans moving first to intercept, despite Master Drallig's orders. Both Bene and Whie Malreaux fell easily to the Sith's blade. Finally, it was enough. Enough to draw Cin Drallig and another Padawan into the fight. The Battlemaster wasn't just good, he was amazing, a few times catching Anakin in a place where if Lord Vader's force abilities were any less spectacular, he would have died with a blade through his abdomen or across his neck. The two Jedi fought hard but even the mighty Cin Drallig understood that the battle would not be won. Vader smiled as the Battlemaster ordered his Padawan to flee, sending heavy overhead assaults to the Sith Lord. Vader snarled as he began his own barrage of attacks and eventually caught Drallig unprepared as he slashed hard from Drallig's left shoulder across his torso, the Battlemaster in a state of shock as his body began to fail him, stared into Vader's cold, yellow eyes, the eyes of a Sith Lord. The eyes of hate-filled rage. The remaining Padawans fell easily to an inbound force of clones as one of the defenders, a Zabrak Jedi Knight began her retreat at the sight of those she was assigned to protect fall one by one. With a heavy pull of the Force, Vader sent the Zabrak flying backwards towards him. The Zabrak hit the ground and slid, performing a role that oriented her body towards the Sith Lord and ignited her blue blade, slinging it towards Anakin and locking blades. Vader stared down the Zabrak Jedi, whose black and blue garbs were adorned with white clone armor, covering her arms and legs. Most likely recently recalled to the Jedi Temple from the frontlines. She was no longer the fearless Jedi General leading to her troops to victory. Now, she was scared, terrified and Vader could see it in her eyes. "There is no escape." he whispered to her as he broke the lock and lunged at her, the Knight blocking the blade and moving to conduct her own strike. She was too slow as Vader quickly recovered from the block, dropped to one knee and drove his blade deep into her chest, releasing a gasp from her mouth as she faced the same fate as so many. He deactivated his lightsaber, rose from his knee and walked past her as she began to stumble, her blade still ignited in her hand. A clone trooper walked to her just as she had dropped to a knee and almost in an act of mercy, leveled his blaster with her forehead and fired.

As Vader moved through the Halls, up through the Sith Containment Chambers and towards the Dorm Rooms, he had another target that needed to be neutralized and her name was Shaak Ti, the Master who was left in command of the Temple after Mace Windu departed. Clone transmissions had no data regarding her but it was possible she was still meditating, her mind clouded as she desperately tried to understand what could have caused such a ripple in the Force. By the time she would figure it out, he would be upon her.

[Skaldia]

Ezko Rask
Antar 4
Command Post VI

A soft wind rustled through the grass, giving song to the night. Ezko Rask breathed deep the smells of the maize, rich brown earth, and the acrid taint of urbanity on the wind. He was deep in the meditative state, completely subsumed in the Force as he stretched forth his senses to get a feeling for the small command post nestled in the valley below them. Long had he sat there in the lotus position while the Dead Moon of Antar rose on the horizon to be quickly followed by the equally inhospitable world of Antar itself. With them as the backdrop and from what his senses were telling him, now was the time to strike.

Ezko opened his eyes, bright piercing orbs of jade, to view with his inferior vision upon the command post that would soon be visited by him and his men. The men in question were gathered around him, as silent as their master. Tango Squad was a team of six hardened men. Unlike most who wore the white armor of a Clone Trooper, Tango Squad wore what was best for the mission at hand. For this campaign, their armor was patterned in a dun camouflage. When Ezko Rask had taken command of Tango Squad, it had been eighteen men. Throughout the course of the war, their numbers had been reduced to their present state but no one else would Ezko rather have protecting his back, perhaps save his fellow Jedi.

A soft whisper through the grass alerted Ezko to the presence of Ivan, his de facto second in command. Like most Clones, he had the short cropped, buzz cut of brown fringe on the top of his head. Unlike others, half his face was a mass of scar tissue, the eye on that side of his face a milky white orb that Ezko was responsible for having made. A little too close to an explosion had almost claimed his life. Despite the grievous wound, he had still managed to save Ezko’s life and for that Ezko considered the man his only friend worthy of respect and loyalty in turn. Ezko knew not everyone shared the camaraderie that Ezko had found with his men. Indeed, he had heard too many tales of his fellow Jedi that treated them as nothing but pawns on a board. Not Ezko. They might be clones but they were men just like any other and thus worthy as any other.

Ivan didn’t say anything. Instead, the pair of them merely viewed the target together in companionable silence. Command Post VI was manned by Gossam Commandos that had been operating in the local area against the loyal insurgents. They had recently massacred a village of Gotal in reprisal for an attack on a military installation in the main city. When Ezko had arrived at the village, he had merely found the Gotal Elder left alive. The old Gotal had begged for justice for his people while he had cradled the corpse of his granddaughter. When Ezko remembered the charred bones of younglings and fragile body of the young woman held so tenderly in the elder's arms, he had resolved to put an end to the enemy Commandos once and for all. They had earned such in their malicious and barbaric attack of a village full of innocents.

The command post consisted of a small electrified fence and one main building and two outbuildings no doubt used for supplies and what not. After having meditated, Ezko sensed that most of the Gossam awaiting them were asleep in the main building. Four were on duty, patrols around the perimeter in a lazy pattern that was all too easy to discern the timing of. Ezko and Tango Squad would infiltrate the camp, kill the Gossam on patrol, and then blow up the main building and take all the lives inside it in one fell swoop. Normally, Ezko would have considered mercy for those who would surrender. He still believed in the tenets laid down to him by the Jedi. But after seeing the destroyed village, all that was left in his heart was the cold steel clasp of justice.

Tango Squad and their Jedi Commander silently moved as one through the tall grass down the gently sloping hill towards the outpost. No sound was made, not even a blade of grass bent to discern their passing. This was like so many other missions before this one, Ezko and Tango having infiltrated countless places like the one before them. Upon reaching the gate, one of the men stepped forward. A faint glow flared briefly as the Clone Commando used a nullifying wire cutter to make short work of the fence and avoid being turned to a crisp from the electricity humming faintly along the fence. While he worked, a single patrolmen came around the corner. Upon seeing the faint glow of the wire cutter he came closer with his blaster raised. When he finally saw what was there he went to raise the alarm but before he could make a sound a blade hilt suddenly jutted from the wrinkled form of his face and he toppled silently before giving away their position.

Ezko motioned in battle sign for a pair of his men to deal with the other guards on duty while the rest of them began to place charges against the base of the main building. It did not take long before the entire perimeter was lined with explosives and the guards taken care of. Within five minutes of entering the command post, the guards were dead and the main building rigged. Just as silently as they entered, the Clone Commandos towards the entrance of the post. There was now no need to use their improvised entrance. The real one would work just as fine. Ezko stared at the building, contemplating the lives he was about to destroy. He raised his hand and brought it down in a chopping gesture and Ivan pressed the button. A bright explosion rent the night air and Ezko allowed a brief smile to curl his features before a look of horror chased it away upon seeing the burning Gossam charging out of building, their shrills tearing the night air.

“Kill them.” He said imploringly over the roar of the flames and shrieks of the dying, watching as they tumbled in the grass around the burning building in vain desire to smother the flames hungrily devouring them. Without a moment’s hesitation after Ezko's plea, shining bolts of mercy came barreling from six directions to silence the suffering of the enemy and Ezko stood there silently, the pain of what he had made those Gossam endure ascending like a wave in his soul, threatening to come down and overwhelm him. He closed his eyes and let out a shuddering breath, his chin falling to his shoulder as he sought to recall what had been done to the Gotal and what had necessitated such extreme action.

It was why he did not notice the sudden change among his men as an order was received and how he responded only when it was almost too late. Whirling on his feet to face the Clones behind him, he snarled as a vibroknife in Ivan’s hand left a line of fire across the bridge of his nose. He looked at the face of his friend and clutched his bloody face. Ivan, face completely without emotion, simply reversed his grip and lunged again.”No!” He roared and lifted his hand, the Force responding to Ezko’s distress in such a way as to send Ivan flying back through the air to crash heavily against the gate. The Gate remained electrified and Ezko watched as his friend was electrocuted to death before his very eyes. Ivan never made a sound, not even when the electricity set his hair alight and his eyes to pop. The image would come back later to haunt Ezko.

If he survived long enough to dream again.

He did not have time to wonder at the sudden change of events. Instead, he was too busy dodging the blaster rounds of his erstwhile allies, incredulity and disbelief turning once deadly fast turns and movements to molasses as he dodged and dipped. He raced towards the fence, only to be halted by one of his other men blocking his path. He parried the first salvo of the blaster in the Clone’s hands only to feel the burn of another as it slid across his side, not puncturing his side but close enough to burn a trail. A snarl of pain and he activated his lightsaber just enough to remove the Clone’s wrist with an uppercut followed swiftly with a decapitating strike. Before the head had hit the ground, Ezko had once more called upon the force to send him propelling up and over the fence. He landed heavily on the other side as blaster rounds hummed around him. As he got up to run, he felt one puncture his calf. He fell hard, his face hitting the ground. Now he tasted the rich earth on his lips, tinged with the salt of his blood.

He did not wait for more bolts to find him. He rose painfully to his feet and raced into the softly swaying grass.

The remaining survivors of Tango Squad looked at one another. Four remained. But their prey was wounded and with nowhere to go.

They followed.

[Dentali]

Berethon Horn
Enarc, Enarc System Alui Sector, Mid Rim

Horn didn't know what was going on, the disturbance in the force, the clones trying to eliminate him... nothing made sense but one thing he did know is that he needed to get out and fast. It was either by luck or providence the ship he was on could be operated with one person.

Quickly disabling the explosive he planted Berethon limped to the cockpit of the shuttle. It belonging to a high level politician he was easily able to get passed the security measures locking down spaceport traffic and he flew out into space... as casually as possible. A large Separatist fleet defended the planet and he was in no position to run or fight them.

After what felt like an eternity he made it to the edge of the system and he punched in coordinates to Ryndellia, a nearby neutral world in the Clone Wars, and went to lightspeed. No time to cover his trail, but he had a bit of a headstart and the time in lightspeed would give him time to think and plan. He began pushing his way to a nearby medbay to patch up his blaster wound, the charred and burned skin on his abdomen hurt almost overwhelmingly and the medkit spray stung badly but provided some measure of relief almost immediately.

Horn finally rested for a moment and let it all overwhelm him.