A few seconds later, the apartment returned to the almost obsessively strict tidiness characteristic of the Kaminoans. Only a puddle of black viscous fluid on the floor remained as proof that something abnormal had occurred here.
But Chirrut Îmwe suddenly turned around, for in his Force perception, he had caught a fleeting surge of darkness—it felt like a cold fingertip gently brushed across the back of his neck.
"Something's wrong," Chirrut's voice carried an unusual urgency. "This seems like just a decoy."
"Ahem."
Jerome, having recovered his breath, coughed lightly and immediately asked, "What do you mean?"
"The shadows are moving," Chirrut traced a trajectory in the air with his finger. "They're right where we were originally resting—Baze is in danger."
Jerome immediately pulled up the building's schematic and said, "We can get back there by crossing seven connector bridges. Let's move!"
Just as the Spartans were about to act, Chirrut raised a hand to stop them.
His expression became strange—partly cautious, partly unexpectedly... impressed?
"Wait." The blind master wore a faint smile. "I think we may have underestimated that 'drunkard.'"
As if to confirm his words, everyone's comms suddenly activated at the same time.
Baze Malbus's slurred roar came through the channel, accompanied by a sharp metallic tearing in the background:
"You bunch of—hic—disloyal bastards! Left me here all alone... then some disgusting freak showed up!"
This was followed by a deafening blast from a blaster gun, then the sound of something heavy hitting the floor.
Baze's voice gradually became clearer, laced with that unique adrenaline-fueled excitement from battle: "Ha! You think you can disturb Baze's sleep with that pathetic crap? Back when I was brawling in the Jedha bars, freaks like you couldn't even—"
The transmission abruptly cut off.
At that moment, the Spartans' mini-radar switched to a blueprint of the rest area.
A green marker for a friendly unit appeared, along with three unknown signals—evidently heretical entities attempting to ambush Baze.
No further discussion was needed. The team immediately reported the situation to Leon, requesting he notify the Kaminoan Prime Minister to dispatch additional clone guards, and rushed back toward the rest area.
When the Spartans burst through the apartment's automatic door by brute force, the scene that met their eyes was surreal.
Baze Malbus stood barefoot on the back of a twitching humanoid creature, wearing nothing but a wrinkled shirt and shorts.
In his right hand was a smoking heavy blaster; in his left, half a bottle of Kaminoan spirits, the liquid dripping steadily onto the carpet.
Three humanoid figures wearing researcher uniforms lay sprawled nearby in twisted postures. One had a charred "melt-hole" punched through its chest cavity.
"Aha!" Baze raised the bottle drunkenly. "Look who's here—hic—my rescuers? Or just glory thieves?"
Helmet scans confirmed that this former temple guard still had an alarmingly high blood alcohol level, but his combat stance remained steady and firm.
Even more surprising, the attackers bore visible blunt force trauma—apparently from repeated blows by a cylindrical object, likely the very bottle Baze was holding.
Jerome was about to speak when Chirrut, through the Force, suddenly made his voice echo directly in everyone's minds—
"Down!"
Baze reacted with impossible speed, diving forward instantly and flinging the bottle ahead of him.
Boom—Crash—!
At that instant, the reinforced glass of the observation window shattered as a suction-cup-covered dark purple tentacle lashed into the room like lightning.
The bottle arced perfectly through the air and struck the massive blue-violet eyeball at the tentacle's center.
"Try this on!" Baze shouted as he rolled and aimed his heavy blaster.
Pew—pew—! Thump—thump—!!
Simultaneously, the Spartans unleashed a concentrated barrage against the monstrous tentacle.
The appendage spasmed violently in agony and retreated into the deep, dark sea.
Chirrut slashed at the window with his lightsaber, but the tentacle's withdrawal was too swift.
By the time everyone rushed to the shattered window, all they saw was a massive shadow diving quickly into the deep-sea darkness beyond the reach of bioluminescence.
Baze staggered to his feet, slapped the dust from his shorts, and said, "So... can someone now tell me why a freakin' octopus monster tried to kidnap a drunk temple guard?"
Chirrut sheathed his lightsaber and turned toward the corner of the room.
There, a metal crate—smashed and deformed by Baze—was leaking black fluid.
The blind master's expression grew more serious than ever before. "Because it wanted to give you a 'gift.'"
The crate lid suddenly sprang open, revealing an object suspended in nutrient fluid—
A pulsating, vein-covered tumor with an eight-pointed star mark identical to those found around the apartment.
Baze sobered up halfway instantly. "What the hell is this freak show?!"
ROAR—!!
A low, subsonic growl echoed from the depths of the ocean, making the entire city tremble slightly.
Jerome's helmet display lit up with an alert. Pulse radar showed multiple gigantic lifeforms rising from the depths of the trench.
Chirrut's lightsaber ignited once more, this time cutting directly through the grotesque "gift."
"The enemy has run out of patience—they're finally stepping out from the shadows."
Meanwhile, inside the Kaminoan Prime Minister's residence;
Suur-I stood before the crystalline arc of the observation deck, gazing at the surveillance projection of the churning sea.
The deep-sea glow had turned eerie blue. Radar continuously picked up signals from massive lifeforms—some tentacles wrapped around sunken ruins, others the size of hills, crawling with writhing spore clusters, radiating waves of psychic interference.
The Kaminoan Prime Minister took a breath—her instincts told her these were not foes Kamino could face alone.
"This is an evolutionary form we've never seen before."
Suur-I's tone was low and tinged with concern as she spoke to Leon behind her. "They're not just beasts, but weapons controlled by a will... a will that fundamentally violates natural law."
Leon watched the monsters churning in the trench for a long time before responding: "The fact that they've emerged from the shadows means they've run out of options."
Suur-I turned slightly, surprise flashing in her eyes.
"You mean this isn't an assault, but an act of desperation?"
"Chaos is indeed strange and unpredictable," Leon nodded. "But its greatest strengths have always been manipulation, corruption, and subversion.
When it resorts to relying on these massive, obvious creatures for a frontal assault, it means its infiltration efforts have failed.
In other words, we've stopped their deeper plans."
"But we haven't destroyed them entirely," Suur-I said softly. "And even if one of those creatures reaches shore, the consequences will be catastrophic."
"True," Leon admitted. "But you don't have to bear this burden alone. Once the Scourged Sons reach orbit and complete deployment, Chaos will have no place left to hide on this planet.
Until then, your own Kaminoan military must face these Chaos-tainted marine beasts. We alone cannot handle underwater combat."
Suur-I was silent for a few seconds, then gave a command to the control panel, her tone stabilizing.
"Deploy the deep-sea mech battalions immediately. Coordinate with all functioning heavy submersibles to hunt down the underwater targets. Priority is to eliminate the Chaos-infected large marine lifeforms."
Moments later, numerous light dots lit up across the holographic projection, and clone squads activated in unison.
Clone-piloted deep-sea vehicles sliced through the ocean surface, racing to the frontlines.
On the command platform, Suur-I's eyes narrowed slightly. She knew that to protect her homeworld, sacrifices were unavoidable.
Boom. Rumble.
Though the underwater battle was invisible to the naked eye, the low rumble made it all too real, a clear sign of the combat's ferocity.
Before long, the front-line data was transmitted to central command.
The combat overview and status of each unit appeared—80% of the deep-sea vehicles were destroyed or severely damaged. Some clone units lost command mid-battle and descended into chaos. Yet ultimately, they suppressed the mutated tentacle beasts and detonated the remaining corrupted matter within the seafloor fault lines.
"I must admit—"
Suur-I turned around, her tone weary but resolute. "We paid a heavy price for this. The deep-sea battalion is almost entirely destroyed."
"But your clone army still stands," Leon replied. "And your civilization's core remains untouched. That is the best outcome."
Suur-I nodded slightly, her gaze drifting to the flashing markers on the war map.
"Yes. Our people suffered minimal casualties." Her voice held a bitter note. "Perhaps that's the true purpose of the clones."
"They're your warriors, born for this purpose," Leon said sternly. "And you are their reason to fight."
Suur-I didn't reply.
Her eyes quietly settled on the holographic projection, watching the fading red dots that symbolized the recently ended oceanic catastrophe.
Though fear lingered in her heart, she knew the worst was over—and the promise of the Human Empire was about to be fulfilled.
—
Twelve hours later.
In the planet's outer gravitational field, distortions began.
A series of "vortices" tore ghostly blue streaks into the dark starfield.
Half of the Scourged Sons' fleet emerged from warp.
They made no long comm check-ins, issued no public announcements. All ships entered Kamino's orbit simultaneously, seizing control of near-planet space.
This move was not a warning, nor a test. It was a declaration.
The Human Empire had arrived, assuming the posture of a sovereign.
On Kamino's holographic radar, over a dozen massive ship silhouettes intertwined in high orbit. Automated orbital defense platforms identified them within seconds and switched to "friendly" mode. All of Kamino's military systems automatically uploaded data and integrated into the Empire's fleet coordination.
From that moment forward, Kamino's defense network was no longer solely under Kaminoan control.
But Suur-I did not resist.
She knew exactly what this meant—
It meant they had finally stood upon the shoulders of true giants, no longer facing the abyss alone.
At that moment, a Thunderhawk gunship pierced the cloud layer, stirring vast air vortices as it speared toward Tipoca City's high-altitude landing pad.
The gunship flew effortlessly through the city as if it knew it intimately—as if the city were its home turf.
The heavy landing pad opened, and the gunship's ramp descended.
Thud. Thud.
Wearing his Reaper-class Terminator armor, Gabriel Angelos led ten company honor guards down onto Kamino like gods of legend.
They spoke no words. Their footsteps were like iron laws.
They hadn't come to negotiate. They had come to declare a fact: from this day forth, Kamino was under the direct protection of the Human Empire.
Suur-I and Leon stood on the pad to receive them.
Angelos scanned the symmetrical Kaminoan architecture without interest. Only the two figures standing opposite him drew his attention for a moment longer.
Suur-I wore the formal armor of a Kaminoan head of state, her face calm. Leon S. Kennedy, in his sharp formal uniform, represented the elite of the Investigations Division.
Angelos stepped forward, raised his left hand, and silently grasped Leon's—firm and mutual recognition of duty and trust.
No welcome speech. No ceremony.
Then, the honor guard interfaced with Kamino's high command structure. Tipoca City, as the political and military nexus, began syncing with the Imperial network.
The Scourged Sons fleet activated orbital patrols and ground-fire coverage, redrawing defense lines, establishing jump nodes, and sharing select systems with the Kaminoan clone army.
This was not colonization, nor mere alliance.
This was binding—
A bilateral, forceful, and necessary bond.
For Suur-I, it meant Kamino would no longer fight alone, that their genetic engineering and cloning technologies had finally found a true Imperial anchor.
For Angelos, it was simply another routine task—secure the frontier, purge corruption, establish loyalty.
As for Leon, he gazed quietly at the distant sea and sky from the landing pad.
Originally, their mission was just to establish initial cooperation with Kamino and gradually implement integration.
They hadn't expected that by sheer coincidence, the forces of Chaos had already targeted Kamino—trying to corrupt more researchers with knowledge, only to be thwarted by their firm resolve.
That misstep gave the Scourged Sons the perfect reason to descend openly on Kamino under the guise of helping repel Chaos corruption—seizing control of all military, political, and economic matters.
Leon appeared pensive because once Kamino's affairs were settled, he'd soon be off to the next destination—back into the fray.
But it also meant that Sector 17 of the Star Wars universe had finally fallen into rhythm.
(End of Chapter)
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