Our advance through the interior of the spherical ship was not as slow as I had expected. Here, in the narrow corridors, the droids lost their greatest advantage — numbers. While the B2s still posed a threat, the B1s… well, we cut through them like a knife through butter. "The main thing is that there are no droidekas." These creations of the dark genius of GFFA the Colicoids were renowned for their immense power and combat capability. No wonder even Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan had to retreat — hell, they outright ran — from just a trio of these machines. As for anyone less skilled, an encounter with one could easily be their last.
"Attention! Droidekas!"
Well, fuck, I jinxed it.
We were trapped in a corridor — B2s behind us, droidekas ahead.
Shit, I mean, hutt… We're out of grenades. So how the hell are we going to break through this wall of fire? Hmm. What if…?
Glancing at one of the walls, I noticed something resembling a massive lamp fixture — though I had no idea what it really was. There was nothing else large and unnecessary nearby.
"Snips! Cut that thing down!"
"Why, Master?"
"Just do as you're told!"
A few swings of her green lightsaber, and the metal structure crashed to the floor. Now all that remained was to lift it with telekinesis and hurl it at the droideks.
"I can do it, I can do it. Think like Yoda, think like Yoda. There is no weight." Repeating the mantra to myself, I sent the hunk of metal flying toward the droidekas. Their shields — designed to deflect energy bolts — were useless against solid matter. Ha. "There is no defense against brute force."
The droids were knocked off their feet; one was crushed by the impact, its manipulators twitching helplessly. Their shields flickered out — probably not designed to function properly while the droid was lying prone instead of balanced on its three "stumps."
Of course, it was possible to affect the droidekas themselves, but naturally not under enemy fire, so as it worked out, it worked out.
The rest was just technique. After finishing off the remaining droids, we broke through to the command post. A Neimoidian sat cowering in a lavish chair. "What an ugly face he has — forgive me, Force."
"In the name of the Republic, you are under arrest," I announced. "Surrender!"
He obediently bowed his head. The clones quickly cuffed him.
"Sir, the explosives are set! We can leave!"
"Let's move! Ahsoka, hurry!"
Moments later, a muffled explosion shook the station, obliterating the control room. A chain of secondary blasts followed, tearing apart the communication antennas.
We encountered little resistance on our way back. Once we reached the exit, I deactivated my lightsaber and called the Marat on the internal comms.
"Yes, sir?" came Captain Ragnos's voice.
"We've neutralized the enemy commander and destroyed the control station. How are things on your end?"
"Everything's fine, General. There were plenty of tin cans, but we held them off. We're still assessing casualties, though most of the losses are from the regiments that hadn't seen combat before. We lost up to thirty tanks — mostly AATs."
"Understood. Prepare a full report for my return."
***
Over the next day, we gathered our troops and loaded them aboard the ships.
We'd lost nearly half of our B1 droids, keeping only those assigned to clone units. This time, we didn't manage to collect much spoils — the Separatist ship and its automated factories were rigged with charges and destroyed on Master Squater's orders. Most of what we salvaged came from the battlefield itself.
Although, I admit, I did a little "looting" of my own. While retreating from the ship, I visited the quarters of an unlucky Neimoidian, hoping to find some "small change." My intuition didn't fail me — a sturdy little safe was hidden in one of the walls. I sliced it open easily with my saber and found about half a million credits inside — didn't have time to count them exactly.
We returned to our cruiser aboard one of the gunboats. The mission was complete — time to report to the Jedi Council.
***
We chose the bridge of the Marat for the communication session. Gathering around the projector table, we waited for a response to our call. Soon, holograms of several Council members shimmered into view.
This time, the roster wasn't particularly impressive — Ki-Adi-Mundi, Plo Koon, Shaak Ti, and Kit Fisto. The others were absent.
"Greetings, Master Squater. And you as well, Knight Vekt," said Master Plo.
"I apologize for requesting assistance," the Kubaz began, bowing. "But without it, I would not have succeeded."
It was clear from Squater's demeanor that this was far from his first time speaking with such high-ranking Masters. As for me, fatigue and healthy indifference dulled any excitement I might have felt. Ahsoka, on the other hand, was practically bouncing in place. Her expression said it all: "Cool, cool! I've been invited to this meeting! Even if just as an observer — it still counts-counts-counts!" I struggled to suppress a smile.
Meanwhile, the Kubaz was recounting the difficulties of the operation, our losses, and how he couldn't have done it without my help. I nodded in agreement when appropriate, then asked what the Council's next assignment for me would be.
"For now, return to Donovia," Ki-Adi-Mundi instructed. "You are to organize patrols of a section of the Perlemian Trade Route. In addition to Separatist raids, civilian merchants have been attacked by pirates — they've multiplied since the war began."
Oh, wonderful. Just what I needed — a game of tag with pirates. And that 'multiplied since the war' part, as if they didn't exist before.
Shaak Ti offered a more encouraging note.
"We will send reinforcements — new clones from the latest batch as soon as we can, — to make up for your losses. Along with several young cadets for field training. You'll also receive supplies, equipment, and updated tech."
"Fuck. Just what I needed — a bunch of clone kids. Then again, the clones themselves are barely ten years old, so why am I even complaining?"
"I'm ready to depart," I told the Council. "We'll leave immediately."
That seemed to be the end of it, but of course, Snips had to get a word in.
"Master Plo! I'm so glad to see you!"
"Little Ahsoka, is that you? What are you doing there?" Plo Koon asked in surprise.
Oh right — it was Plo Koon who discovered Ahsoka during one of his missions, recognized her potential, and brought her to the Jedi Temple for training.
"I'm Knight Vikt's Padawan!" Snips declared proudly.
"Oh, I didn't know that," Plo said, clearly amazed. "When you return to the Temple, come see me. I'm always happy to talk."
"Of course, Master Plo!"
The holograms faded, ending the transmission.
"What?" the Togruta protested under my gaze. "Now I can't even say hello?"
***
Our farewell to Squater was brief. The Kubaz had his hands full — countless wounded to treat, settlements to stabilize, and new agreements to forge with the local authorities. We didn't linger, not wanting to get in the way.
Leaving the ice planet behind, we jumped to hyperspace almost immediately.