Okay, we've had our laugh. What are we going to do?"
"I think we'll have to abandon the base. Now, with the loss of the medical ship and part of thewarehouses…"
"Did we lose the warehouses too?" I asked.
"Saboteurs managed to infiltrate some of them. The result is easy to predict. So—most of the fortifications are destroyed, and there are… wait a second… counting everyone, everyone, everyone—just under twenty-six thousand clones left. Of those, a couple thousand are wounded."
Hutt, we lost almost seven thousand in this meat grinder.
"I don't think they'll just let us through."
"That's debatable, General." Sumeragi caught our attention. "The enemy is already used to us operating this way and will expect us to make a breakthrough. I think they'll prepare for that option, but if we punch through a section of the front—say, across this plain—then everything might work out. We're not going back, are we? Then the best option is to load the heavy armored vehicles with cargo, primarily ammunition, fuel, and medicine."
"Lieutenant, I'm afraid we won't be able to fit all the clones into the remaining vehicles. What do we have there?" I brought up the summary on the screen. "Fifty A6s—even if we load each vehicle with a hundred tons of cargo, that will reduce the number of passengers by a hundred, maybe more. The cargo is easier—we just don't have that much left. In total, that's eleven thousand clones maximum. Plus, we have ninety-seven A5 units—with a landing capacity of fifty clones, we can cram maybe one ton into each. That's another five thousand clones. And then there are walkers, speeders, repulsor tanks—but you can't fit crews or troops in them. Altogether, we can transport no more than sixteen thousand clones. That leaves ten thousand. We're not abandoning anyone, so this plan doesn't work."
"Sir, I don't think you'll have to abandon us," Zilo said.
"Explain?"
"If you break through, the enemy will quickly realize we've left the base and will rush after you—tailing you. But if…"
"I don't like your 'if.'"
"Someone has to stay behind to cover your retreat," Zilo continued calmly. "It's the only way, sir. I'll take the rest of my brigade, plus the remnants of Enok's units. We won't need much ammunition. Enough for two hours of fighting, you'd better take the rest. You and the others will leave. We'll distract the enemy."
Three-Hundred-And-Two shook his head.
"This is far from an optimal solution."
"You understand they'll attack, and you won't survive?" I supported the droid because I disagreed with the plan.
"In any case, we'll take as many of those Separatist creatures with us as possible. It's a pity we don't have any baradium charges—we could've given them a farewell gift."
"Ahem," the engineer coughed. "I think I can help with that."
"How so?"
"Well… we can make a bomb. Or rather, many bombs."
Under our gaze, the captain visibly shrunk.
"What? Before the Sinano sank completely into the mud, we took various useful things from it. Including several auxiliary reactors, charges for turbolaser cannons, and warheads from ship-grade proton torpedoes. Plus, we still have the base reactors, ammunition for the AV-7 cannons, and some explosives. If we combine all this into a single network and detonate it simultaneously… Ricky"—the engineer turned to his astromech—"calculate the blast radius."
"Ricky?" Blam raised his left eyebrow.
The engineer spread his arms.
"Er-Three-Q-Six. Ri-Q."
"I like the way you think. How quickly can you prepare a detonator?" asked Puck.
"We can do it in an hour and a half."
"And how long to load the machines?" Blam asked.
"Two hours, no more," replied Li Noriega.
The astromech beeped, projecting a diagram.
"Okay," the engineer said, studying it closely. "We'll cover the entire base with a plasma cloud, and if we place tibanna gas charges around the perimeter and add more warheads to them, the blast radius will extend to almost ten kilometers. We can begin installation right now."
"General," everyone turned to me. "It's your decision."
I turned toward the wall, covering my eyes. My palms clenched into fists.
"Mirro, any news from orbit?"
"None, sir. No signals from the Republic—only CIS ships in orbit."
Decide… Easy to say. The choice isn't easy. Actually, no—there's only one option here.
I understood perfectly well that saving everyone was impossible—this wasn't a country walk, it was war. I didn't even need meditation to grasp that. And as commander, I had to send soldiers into battle. However, that is one thing, but deciding who lived and who died—everyone or only some—was something entirely different. To condemn several thousand intelligent beings to certain death… I wasn't ready for that.
It was easier for clones—they accepted it calmly. I felt it. They had no fear, only confidence and a sense of duty.
My fist slammed into the wall. Everyone present flinched.
"Marshal Commander Blam. Begin preparations."
"Yes, sir." The clones saluted.
"Zilo, is there anyone who can replace you? We've already lost Enok, and I'd like to keep it at that."
"Yes, but I'd rather stay with my guys."
"So I should just run away?"
"Let me be blunt, sir. Without you, they'll all die. But this way, there's a chance that not all, but many of my brothers will live to see the end of this battle. You've managed to get us out of some real shit before; you can do it again. I know you'll do everything you can to make it happen."
The clone saluted and left the headquarters.
I turned away silently, staring at the map projected on the tactical table.
Fucking war. And he's right.
"Sumeragi. Let's work out the retreat route."
"Yes, General. This section…"