When the Akagi emerged from hyperspace, we were already on the ship's bridge. Trachta was clearly eyeing me with suspicion, clad in armor, but he kept his composure and remained silent.
"Well?" I asked Mirro impatiently. He had taken a seat in one of the bridge's pits.
"Sir, I'm running a scan… At first glance, everything looks fine. The structural integrity is intact, the scanners are detecting the presence of organic, but—"
"That's exactly what worries me. Why isn't the station responding? Any unpleasant surprises?"
"General, the scanners aren't detecting any traces of CIS technology."
"What about the station's defensive weapons?"
Trachta answered instead of Christen.
"This station is still under construction. Most of the surveillance equipment has already been activated, but the space defense weapons haven't been delivered yet."
"That's encouraging." I glanced at the projection of the complex displayed on the tactical table. "All right, then. Blam, prepare the equipment and troops. Lichtendal, you're in overall command. Grace, you're at the helm. Christen, communications. Sumeragi, coordination. Akagi, enter the atmosphere and hover a couple of kilometers from the station."
"I'm going down with the first detachment—Ahsoka, Puck, Lucky, and three clone squads. Two squadrons of Torrents will cover us; the rest will cover the ship. At the first signal, deploy the wave. Load all gunboats to maximum capacity, and deliver twelve AT-TEs on cargo gunboats to support the infantry."
"Sir, I recommend using two Nu-class shuttles," Sumeragi said. "They have shields and can land under fire."
"Continue."
"Load two AT-XTs into each one and have them fly with you, but keep them at a distance. If anything happens, they'll provide fire cover."
"We'll do that," I nodded. "Everyone to your stations!"
"And what about me?" Trachta asked mockingly.
"You'll stay on the ship. Imagine if they kill you—I'll never live it down. Such a disgrace, such a disgrace," I replied in the same tone.
"Can I at least land in the second wave?"
To hell with you.
"In the second wave, yes. Puck, tell Lucky: change of target. New mission—guard the Moff."
"Yes, sir."
***
The gunboat landed near the surveillance station complex. The main building rose in the center, crowned with a massive dish. To the left stood the reactor complex that powered all systems; to the right were the guard barracks. A low fence surrounded the base.
We moved forward cautiously and reached the gate of the complex. There we were met by clones from the local garrison. Or rather—not exactly clones.
I couldn't sense them.
Which meant…
Activating the internal comlink in my helmet, I called Seventeen.
"Puck, get ready for battle. Tell the ship to drop the landing party."
Snips, they're droids.
So the fun begins?
"Sir, please state your purpose—" began the clone who approached us, but I pulled my sword from my belt and cut him in half with a sharp swing. Beneath the armor, sparking droid parts were revealed. It must be BX-droids, saboteurs. Right—those things can reproduce any voice, and they move much faster too.
Snips and the others made short work of the rest. Then the massive doors of the main building slid open, and a crowd of B-1 droids poured out, supported by heavier B-2s. An unpleasant addition was two dozen fast-moving droideks advancing from the flanks.
We prepared to repel the attack. However, we weren't outnumbered for long.
First, the shuttles dropped four AT-XT walkers. Standing their ground, they brought their deflector shields to full power and began mowing down the advancing clankers, simultaneously hurling proton grenades straight into the densest clusters.
Then, behind us, gunboats began to land, disgorging tanks and infantry…
There weren't that many droids to begin with, and the entire battle lasted about seven minutes.
"Piece of cake," Snips said, kicking the severed "head" of a B-1 lying on the ground.
"Good work," I said over the general channel.
"You're welcome," Puck grumbled.
"I'm impressed, General Vikt. You didn't lose a single soldier."
I turned around.
An amusing sight unfolded before us: Moff Trachta was jogging toward us with his blaster at the ready. A couple of grenades hung from his belt, and his uniform was smeared with mud. The picture was complete.
I smiled. Just like Rambo. Lucky clearly tried his best, no doubt about it. Oh well—everyone has fun in their own way.
"What are you smirking about, Vikt?" he noticed my smile.
"You look so… warlike. And that hairstyle."
"What's wrong with it?"
"It reminds me of something… On a planet called—uh—Dakota, there are many tribes of savages. So, when they go to war, they shave part of their hair, leaving a mohawk. Just like yours."
"Why?"
"When a warrior kills an enemy or takes him prisoner, he grabs him by that very mohawk and scalps him—cuts the skin right off his head," I explained calmly. "The more scalps he has, the more respect he earns in the tribe..."
"Ugh, Master, that's disgusting," Snips said indignantly.
"Yes… not very pleasant," Trachta agreed, involuntarily running a hand over his head. "All right. Let's find out what happened at the station. Maybe there are still some records at the command post."
"Let's go. Just… stay alert. Puck, Lucky—take a platoon each and move ahead. Clear the building. There may still be droids inside. The rest, secure the perimeter."
***
The clones advanced through corridors and stairwells, deliberately avoiding the elevators. Soon they reported that the way was clear, and we moved up to the base command post.
"Everything clear?" I asked the sergeant posted by the entrance.
"Yes, sir. Except… you should see this."
I stepped inside and immediately noticed it.
Ahsoka, walking just behind me, gasped.
A body lay on the floor.
In Jedi robes.
I slowly approached the body and knelt down beside it, removing helmet. There was no doubt—she was a Jedi. A woman, around forty. She lay on her back, eyes wide open, staring at the world with… surprise? Yes. Surprise.
Meanwhile, Trachta moved to the central terminal, activated it, and began working the keys and controls.
"Master, were they droids?" Ahsoka asked quietly.
"I'm not sure… no. The wounds were made by a lightsaber."
"A Sith?" The girl tensed instantly.
"Unfortunately… no."
I don't sense the darkness a Sith blade leaves behind. And her lightsaber isn't anywhere near her.
"You're right," said a voice we didn't recognize.
At that moment, all the doors leading into the command center slammed shut, cutting us off from the rest of the station.
Notes:P@treon: /SadRaven
🥳Joining P@treon keeps me motivated and eager to work diligently, so please consider joining.🥰