Chapter 9

Orbit of Christophsis, Christoph System

Savareen Sector

Sunken deep in the Force, Anakin subordinated what his eyes could see with what his senses told him. Anakin watched Master Gallia and her Blue Squadron savage the Separatist cordon–and watched as the hailstorm of droid starfighters and point defence lasers savage them in turn. Admiral Wurtz’s fleet slashed the deck of the enemy front, sweeping in from a vector that reduced fire from the enemy due to friendly fire, before broadsiding and veering back around, using their screens to kite the enemy fire.

It was a technique primarily used by weaker fleets to slowly grind down a superior force. Slow and tedious, but excellent for conserving materiel and drawing out the engagement. Even then, losses were still going to be heavy. But the plan was working, and that was what mattered. All they needed to do was buy time for the ground assault.

Anakin’s attention was captured by the sudden spike of grief and helplessness from the planet’s surface, the torrent of emotions invading his emphatic link. He immediately distanced his connection to the Force, allowing detachment to shield him like armour.

Something is going on on the surface. He tiptoed, glancing over the viewport as if straining to view the battle from orbit. Was Obi-Wan and Master Mundi landing now? Landing was always the most harrowing part of any planetary assault, hapless and trapped in tin birds only an inch away from being blown out of the sky at all times.

Anakin hated contested landings.

He hated not knowing anything even more. Their communications were cut to comply with standard radio silence procedures. After all, even after retrofitted for combat, Banking Clan frigates were still purpose-built communication ships–essentially mobile hyperwave transceivers–meant to supplant the HoloNet. It did not take much effort to transform them into terrifying COMINT weapons.

State of the art comm arrays, jamming devices, frequency scramblers, and listening posts–all meant to give the Banking Clan an advantage against their corporate rivals, now repurposed to help slaughter Republic troops.

“General,” Yularen slinked onto the deck like a predatory cat, “There’s a situation that may warrant your attention.”

Around them, the bridge crew conducted its business with brisk, silent efficiency. There would always be some idle gossip in the pits–wartime speculation, a few jokes, sometimes the commissioned officers would tell stories of back home to the clones–to stave off boredom, and Anakin has always preferred it. It was nothing detrimental to discipline–much the opposite–it built camaraderie, and was good for morale.

Yularen didn’t share his views. The Admiral is present, he didn’t need the Force to know the minds of the crew, no chatter.

“What is it?” Anakin turned around.

Yularen tapped his heels together smartly, “Our passive scanners found biosigns around the moon, General. I fear it may be a Separatist trick.”

“Let’s take this to the Battle Operations Room,” Anakin said quickly, conscious of the people listening in, “Lieutenant, comm Indomitable and Coruscant Sky. Standby for orders, Yellow Alert.”

The comms officer snapped to attention and saluted.

“Give it to me, Yularen,” he said lowly as they marched through the blast doors, “An ambush? Shouldn’t our pickets have scouted the system in advance?”

“Doubtful, sir,” the Admiral replied, “It’s anywhere from six to a thousand biosignatures–we can’t get a sharper number without active scanning.”

Separatists crew their warships with droids. One or two biosigns could be an indication of an organic commander, but up to a thousand…

“Then get them up. All of them,” he ordered, “No chances.”

A cone of light shot out of the broad holodisplay table, and a projection of the local sector fizzled into view. Anakin ignored the flashing lights on the farside of the planet, honing in on the blue marble of Leesis.

“We are focusing our rectennas now, sirs,” a sensor operator said.

Coordinates crawled across the two plotting boards in the Battle Room–one for the X-Y axis and another for the Z-X axis–as Pioneer’s scanners calibrated and ranged. Then, a red sphere appeared on the holograph of Leesis.

“Secondary body detected around the moon,” Yularen sharply inspected the boards, “Surrounded by… what looks to be an asteroid field.”

Anakin pushed him aside as he stalked to the table, leaning over the rim to take a good look.

“Not an asteroid field,” he said grimly, “A debris field.”

It took all of three words for the air to feel heavy for a heartbeat, before the mood lifted back into stale discipline. Everybody knew what Anakin meant; the biosigns were prisoners, and the orbiting body was a prison hulk.

Slowly, the body circled around the moon until it was in direct view of the Pioneer.

“Visual confirmation,” an officer reported, “Lucrehulk-class battleship.”

Something twisted in Anakin’s gut when he realised he could still see Resolute’s relative unscathed bridge stalk lifelessly drifting through the sea of scrap. The viewports of her twin conning towers were shattered, and hundreds of puncture marks marred her doonium superstructure.

“The Separatists take prisoners?” someone muttered.

Anakin slung around, glaring across the room. Before the offender could be found, however, a comms panel lit up. What terrible kriffing timing.

“General Koon is breaking radio silence, sir.”

Anakin ground his teeth, “Put him through.”

“Prepare your men, Anakin,” the words left Plo Koon’s mouth before his face even materialised, “I am transmitting you the landing coordinates now.”

“What’s the situation, Master?” he attempted to disguise his impatience with concern–it wasn’t very hard–but had a feeling the Jedi Master saw right through him.

“Master Koth and Master Barrek are dead–” Anakin’s annoyance drained out of him, along with the colour of his skin, “–And Master Mundi is missing in action. They took the industrial sector with minimal casualties, but were encircled by the Separatists afterwards. We have lost contact with the Four-Hundred Sixteeth Star Corps, Seventh Legion, and Four-Hundred Eighty-First Legion. K’Krukh and Tarr Seirr are now in command of the survivors.”

Master Plo Koon was calm. His voice was mild, even unperturbed, as though military catastrophes of this scale happen on a regular basis. Master Mundi was a member of the Jedi Council–what, who could have gotten the better of him? Those were some of the most elite clones in the Grand Army, led by the best Jedi.

Anakin opened his mouth, “is Obi-Wan–”

“Master Kenobi’s forces are making steady progress,” Master Koon cut tersely, “Now, the Twenty-First Nova Corps have fortified a line of refineries in the interior, and are holding against the enemy for now. We aren’t reinforcements, Anakin–this is a rescue mission. Your orders are to land at the last known location of the Four-One-Sixth and exfiltrate them. If they have been confirmed to be destroyed, then attack the rear of the Separatist army until I can evacuate the siege.”

“…And the rest of them?” Anakin pressed.

“We do not have the manpower, and Master Kenobi has none to spare,” Master Koon said grimly, “We must not allow the crystal refineries to fall into Separatist hands. Once we have evacuated the troops, we will bombard the sector from orbit.”

And sign away the deaths of thousands. Tens of thousands. Again. A traitorous part of him wondered if this was going to be a second Jabiim.

“Careful, Anakin,” Master Koon warned, “Our thoughts create our reality.”

“Understood, Master,” Anakin breathed, “I will prepare my men.”

That’s right. I will not let that happen again. I cannot.

Plo Koon nodded sharply, and disappeared.

“Sir?” Appo asked, “What about the prisoners?”

Anakin leaned heavily against the table, drumming his fingers against the rim. Did he really have to abandon his men a second time? What about his orders, or of the men down there on the surface? Were they also not worth saving?

He reached out with the Force, gently coaxing out the thoughts of his men. He wasn’t prying–Anakin didn’t pry. Appo watched him carefully, through Rex’s stony face. It sent a pang through his heart.

All of them wanted to save their brothers, but would not argue if he ordered them to abandon them. But that’s just how it was, wasn’t it? They were clones; all of them were bred to think like that… Anakin hated himself from even having that thought.

How many times will he have to abandon people? How many times will he have to fail? How many times will I be damned if I do, and damned if I don’t!?

Mother, Master Qui-Gon, Master Yaddle, Aubrie, Tohno… Rex. Again and again, other people had to die for him. If this is what being the Chosen One meant, then Anakin wished Qui-Gon had never found him on Tatooine.

What should I do, Master? Anakin felt like a Padawan again.

“Sir?” Appo asked again, “Should I prepare the men?”

Appo… like all clones, he was a loyal soldier, ready to carry out whatever mission had to be done. Anakin smiled bitterly–wasn’t what Rex would say? The mission always comes first, sir.

Why can’t I do both, for once?

“Get the men ready,” Anakin commanded.

Appo locked his helmet into place, “Understood sir.”

As the Clone Commander walked by him, Anakin stopped him with a hand on his arm, “And prepare a boarding party. Our best. Nobody will miss a company or two.”

Appo held onto his words for a long moment, before nodding, “Yes, sir.”

Through his helmet, Appo’s voice was flat. As Anakin watched him walk away, he wondered if ‘yes, sir’ was an agreement, or merely a confirmation. He found that he didn’t want to know.

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