Discipline is the soul of an army.
It makes small numbers formidable;
procures success to the weak, and esteem to all.
(G. Washington).
***
Raindrops trickled down the visors of our helmets. One thing is certain — there is no need for weather forecasters on Jabiim. Here, everyone is their own forecaster and knows that it rained yesterday, it is raining today, and it will rain tomorrow. And if not, then it's guaranteed to rain the day after tomorrow. And we still don't know how long we'll be stuck here. I think I'm going to end up hating this Hutt rain.
We stood on the roof of our headquarters, the "Juggernaut," watching what was happening ahead of us. Ahsoka wrapped herself in her cloak, muttering something under her breath. She didn't like the planet's wet weather.
Marshal Commander Blam tapped the side of his helmet, then reported over the intercom:
"General, the clankers are activating their main reactors. And the nationalists are stirring in their positions."
"Master, I think it's time?" Despite her grumbling, Ahsoka was wearing a small headset so she could follow what was going on — she heard our conversations perfectly well. Though getting it to work had been a task in itself. Togrutas don't have external ears; they hear with their montrals, so the device had to be modified. Um, I think it's called "passive echolocation." Hutt, it seems I-Jedi definitely missed a couple of xenobiology lessons. Stars forbid Ahsoka finds out about that — I'll die of embarrassment. Oh well.
I lifted my binoculars to my helmet. The built-in tactical datapad quickly synced with the device's systems, and a picture unfolded before me… well, calling it "enemy positions" feels too dramatic. In truth — shallow trenches a couple of kilometers away. A wall of rain above, mud below. As usual.
"Excellent. Everyone get ready to attack. Tell the trench diggers to get as low as possible in three minutes and not to to stick their heads out," I ordered. "Everyone to their places!"
A minute later, we were already inside the vehicle. Blam immediately removed his helmet and took position next to the tactical table, where Sumeragi was already bustling, calculating possible enemy moves. In the next compartment, Mirro was preparing his jukebox to broadcast my orders to other vehicles and units. To be honest, the lieutenant was doing surprisingly well — he'd managed to configure the communicationssystems to work in Jabiim's conditions. Yes, there was no video. Yes, the connection wasn't real-time. But it was still progress. Better this kind of contact than none at all.
"General, all vehicles are in combat positions and ready to begin the attack!"
"How long until D-hour?"
"Six minutes, sir!"
"General, the droids are moving forward!"
"Right. Wait. Wait…" I was stalling for time. "Wait… And now — it's time!"
The Juggernaut roared softly and surged forward. Nine more vehicles followed us. Elsewhere along our perimeter, five more Juggernaut squadsrushed toward the front line, where the battle was already heating up…
Even during our flight — and even earlier — I'd spent a long time thinking about how to complete our mission without dying in the process. Digging through every bit of data I had, I looked for anything that might help: historical parallels, strategies, even vague hints. But… either no such situations had ever happened, or no records of them survived. So I had to come up with something myself. Fortunately, I'd had time.
After many hours of meditation and reflection, a rough strategy took shape, though much depended on where we would end up. The plains? The mountains? Or right outside the capital? The latter was possible — but not desirable. Dramatic, yes, but short-lived. I considered several options, but only one was developed fully, and the final version was refined already on Jabiim.
The previous tactic — digging in at the base and sitting tight without sticking our necks out, like we'd done on Donovia — wouldn't work here. The balance of power was different, and we couldn't ignore the local saboteurs. One mistake and that would be it. And they could overwhelm us with numbers alone. But going on the offensive blindly wasn't an option either — we needed a place for the wounded, for supplies, and simply a base where we could retreat to lick our wounds, repair equipment, and simply rest. Again, there were few of us; we didn't know local conditions, and we could easily be lured into a trap.
So, in the end, I settled on the following approach. The name wasn't great: Aggressive Fire Defense. I'm not a writer; I'm not trained to come up with something prettier. But the essence was simple.
After landing, we formed a secure perimeter. Then, in relative calm — the enemy did not immediately come to his senses, and quicklytransferring troops in Jabiim's conditions was difficult — we began building a base, concentrating around one of the hills. There, in the foothills of the local cliffs and ledges, we hid the Pelta, which was our hospital. We shut down the engines and diverted the saved power into equipment and shields. Around it we built warehouses and barracks, partially buried and covered with stones and rubble — at least some protection — and around those, in three rings, gun turrets.
Between the turrets and slightly ahead of them, trenches appeared — or parapets made of the same stones (you can't dig trenches everywhere here, and water floods them quickly anyway). Several square kilometers of Jabiim's land came under our control.
Next, I reorganized our forces. Two clone brigades, half of the Juggernauts A5s, AT-ATs, AT-TEs, S-130s, and the remains of the AATs — nine units total — plus half of the AT-XTs, were assigned to defend the base. All this equipment was either repulsor-based (relatively suitable for Jabiim — as long as you "fly" as low as possible. Lift fifty meters up and there's a good chance of getting hit by an ion discharge), or walkers, which weren't ideal for local conditions. Sure, they were effective on rocky elevations, but I had no desire to march them through the mud covering most of the planet. You can't get enough of Yoda for every machine.
The rest of the forces — two brigades supported by sixty A6s and the same number of A5 Juggernauts, plus the remnants of the Sabers and AT-XTs — were to act as the strike group. Of course, it wasn't exactly pleasant to go on the offensive with the headquarters vehicle, but first of all, the fact that our Juggernaut served as HQ didn't change that it was still a combat vehicle. And secondly — pure self-interest. If we stayed in the rear, some saboteur would inevitably start thinking:
"What is a combat vehicle doing in the rear? There must be something valuable inside. Let me blow it up!"