Meditation is an extremely useful thing. It allows you to clear your head of unnecessary thoughts and focus on a specific task. And Battle meditation… well, the best version of it I can do is even better. It's a different level of perception, a different system of measure, a different quality of action… Actually, that was exactly what I wasdoing right now. My mind was slowly analyzing events, trying to adjust our plans.
Although getting out of this… this… this mess would be very difficult. The good thing was that the situation we found ourselves in wasn't getting worse. No, if we were alone and locked inside the base, surrounded by the enemy, then yes, it would have been realle sucks. However, the reality was different…
On the second day, scattered groups of clones—ranging from squads to full companies—began to break through to the base, attacking our enemiesfrom behind. They were battered, carrying wounded on stretchers, sometimes even with combat equipment, but they kept coming and coming. And from them, we finally began to learn the news. No—of course I knew that this whole idea of storming the city had been doomed from the start, but it's one thing to know it and another to see it with your own eyes. The clones camefrom different directions, and through them we saw a picture of the past few days. They confirmed the deaths of the Jedi—Norcuna, Leska, Sirrus… There was no news about the Padawans at all.
I don't know if ordinary, non-cloned soldiers could have shown such tenacity and courage, such quick-wittedness and mutual support. They were cut off, the enemy was advancing from all sides, ammunition was running out, the wounded were dying in their arms or remaining behind with weapons in hand—choosing to delay the enemy for even a little longer to give the others time to escape… The clones, even after losing their commanders, didn't turn into a herd of banthas; no, they maintained discipline. Their officers understood that their only path to salvation was to retreat to fortified positions, where they would find everything they needed: supplies, medicine, and help… There they could hold out for a while longer. And if there happens to be someonehigher-ranking commander appeared, well, the burden of responsibility would fall on his shoulders. For giving orders is much more difficult than carrying them out…
We accepted them hastily, sent the wounded deeper into the mountains, and the combat-ready units replenished their ammunition and returned to the fight. Within three days, our ranks had grown by almost four thousand fighters. It's just a pity that the losses kept pace with this number… The number of wounded was skyrocketing, the organic surgeons walked around like ghostly somnambulists, and even the med-droids seemed to have reached the limits of their endurance…
I recalled and implemented everything I could—every little thing that might help us defend our position. We expanded the perimeter of the base using whatever came to hand, building ramparts out of stone, earth, droid "bodies," and the hulls of wrecked vehicles. We dug pits and set up minefields… The engineers worked tirelessly, drilling tunnels underground, connecting sections of the base to the mountain and extending the tunnels deep into the ground. Often they were narrow, and we had to wade through water up to our necks—there was neither time nor resources for proper drainage—but this made them easier to defend. Some areas were deliberately flooded, because the clones in their sealed armor could easily walk—or rather swim—through them, while it was difficult for the Jabiimi; only the Nimbuses still had any real chance of advancing. The droids didn't care about the water, but they no longer had the numerical advantage that had allowed them to dominate in open terrain. Naturally, the tunnels were designed so the droideks couldn't fit into them. We could only hope that there were no fools—or heroes—among the organics. In any case, we used these tunnels to move secretly into the enemy's rear, delivering short but fierce strikes. A grim smile crossed my face. "Greetings from Vietnam."
The headquarters worked without interruption. Sumeragi quickly learned and digested the tactics I had introduced, and now, together with Blam, she confidently commanded our units. From the outside, it might even have seemed as though she was "getting a kick" out of all of this. Christen Mirro continuously attempted to contact the ships in orbit, but every attempt failed. Convinced that my presence there was no longer essential, I shifted to a different field of activity. And so Ashoka, Zule Xiss, and I began to lead the attacking detachments. Although I tried to protect them from unnecessary danger, but… their help was invaluable—and as fighters, they were unmatched.
And I also got into the habit of checking the positions at least once a day. I know it didn't make much sense strategically, but I think the clones were at least a little encouraged when they saw me. Because in such a situation, even hardened warriors could begin to lose hope…
"General!" My thoughts were interrupted by a clone engineer approaching me.
"Yes, Captain?"
"Well, here's the thing… We were reviewing the memory of one of the OOM-series droids that commanded yesterday's attack…"
"The one that led the AAT tanks at us?" I asked, recalling the episode. It had been quite a bold maneuver—especially for droids—and doomed from the start. Yes, they had advanced almost to the mountain itself… where we destroyed them.
"Yes, that one… So, along with the information we already know, we found a few additional files. A couple concern minor system adjustments—targeting corrections, additional maintenanceprotocols for planetary conditions… but that's not particularly interesting."
"Don't drag it out."
"Yes, sir. The third file is a fairly detailed planetary map. It shows all important points, marked with different priorities for defense and attack."
"Interesting… But why the hell would they put a map of the entire planet in there? What do you think, Tinman?" I turned to the droid.
"An optimal solution. The choice of landing points is limited. Complete information increases the likelihood of mission success," the OOM droid replied.
"Here's the holodisk with the data," the engineer said, stepping forward to hand me the storage device.
"Excellent, Captain. You may go."
I inserted the disk into the datapad's receiver and began reviewing the information. The Neimoidians—or whoever exactly had assembled these droids—had thoughtfully loaded a full combat-zone map into them, apparently for better orientation, and had diligently marked all relevant objects. Bases, communication routes, cities, strongholds… mines.
A huge number of mines and quarries were scattered across the planet's surface, most of them small or long abandoned. At the moment, forty active mines operated in the northern hemisphere and seventeen in the southern. Of particular interest to us were ten mines in the north and three in the south. It was in these mines—at depths of more than three kilometers—that the deposits of the metals we were fighting for had been discovered. Naturally, they were even more important to the CIS.
***
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