The Clone Wars

by Lou Anders

  Then someone grabbed her.

  A burly bounty hunter who looked like a giant armored bug jumped in front of her and roared; another one had taken hold of her from behind. Others had tried to kill Padmé enough times by then that she knew how to channel all her panic into fighting back. She was not going to let Banking Clan goons silence her. Find a way out. Get away. She thrashed and struggled. Being small could be an advantage; people underestimated you. Armored Bug came at her with a knife, and she thrashed more, giving him no clear target. He slapped her blaster away, and she struggled against the one who held her—he smelled like the Lianorm Swamp—and burst free.

  She ducked ahead, but Armored Bug tripped her, and next thing she knew his knife was at her throat.

  And then two Coruscant police droids shone their lights in the alleyway.

  “Drop your weapons!”

  Padmé pushed Armored Bug away and stood with the droids. With one glance back—the swamp-smelling one who’d had hold of her was a Patrolian with an eye patch—she sprinted away.

  And then the bounty hunters attacked the droids.

  Padmé was not going to hang around and see who won that fight. She ran out of the alley and darted toward an empty speeder bike. Senators were not generally supposed to hijack speeders, but these were extenuating circumstances.

  Get away, get away. The words repeated in her head as she charged forward, the bounty hunters close behind her. Then Armored Bug hit a button on his wrist and a cable shot out, attaching itself to her speeder.

  He was hanging off her speeder, with Swamp Stink following on another speeder.

  One problem at a time, Padmé. Armored Bug first. He wanted to go for a ride? Fine. Padmé slammed her foot on the gas and sped forward. Bug pressed a button on his armor and, suddenly, the cable was retracting. He was getting closer.

  He wanted more, then? Padmé veered right, then left, darting in and out of traffic while the bounty hunter banged and bounced against oncoming speeders. Stink was getting close enough to be a problem. She dragged Bug over a series of posts, then through a stack of crates—did he like that?

  Bam! Swamp Stink slammed into her from the side. She slammed him back. Suddenly, the cable tugged again and Bug was on her bike. He grabbed for her. Padmé pulled at the fuel line, and fuel shot up into his face. They sped forward, fuel spraying into Bug’s face, Stink’s bike ramming into her.

  And then police sirens.

  A police speeder chased them—apparently they found the sight of two hijacked speeders slamming into each other while a giant metal bug person writhed on the back of one out of the ordinary. But Padmé did not have time for the police. She slammed Stink hard and he veered away. Bug was on her again, so she ducked under a bridge and then—bang—slammed him into a lamp.

  He was off. She sped forward, but somehow Stink was behind her again, with Bug now on his bike. She turned a corner—

  Into a police blockade.

  She stopped the bike as police cruisers surrounded her. “That is a stolen vehicle! Put your hands in the air!”

  She never thought she’d be so happy to be arrested.

  Back in her apartment, Teckla fretted over Padmé.

  “Don’t you think you should report this to the Jedi Council?” the handmaiden asked.

  “There’s nothing they can do. I know who did it. They were bounty hunters. Paid to stop me from voting against the troop increase. What has happened to democracy, and why doesn’t anyone seem to care?”

  “You do,” Teckla said. “Forgive me, my lady. Um. You’re not like most politicians.”

  Padmé nearly scoffed. “If only that were enough.”

  “Well, you actually talk to the people. People like me. Good night, my lady.”

  Padmé turned to look at her handmaiden, her friend. It wasn’t true. Maybe it had been true once, but in the chaos of war she’d lost sight of everything. She’d been running all over Coruscant, trying to get the senators to care about the suffering of their people, and she’d never asked her loyal friend if her family was suffering.

  She was exactly like most politicians.

  But she wouldn’t be anymore. She could have been killed that night. If they killed her, let it be for being the person she wanted to be.

  “Teckla, tell me. How is your family?”

  Teckla tilted her head. “They are fine.”

  Padmé’s heart nearly broke. Of course they weren’t fine. “How is the war affecting them?”

  Teckla eyed her uncertainly. Padmé did not break her gaze. “It hasn’t been easy. And it’s only getting worse.”

  “How? Please tell me. Tell me how it’s been getting worse.”

  She patted the couch next to her. She should have been asking these questions all along. But she would ask now. Maybe it was the end of the Republic, maybe she would lose everything else, but she would not lose her soul.

  It was the morning of the vote. Her conversation with Teckla replaced the despair she’d been feeling with resolve. She would fight for her people, and she would not stop. They could send all the bounty hunters they wanted after her; she would not stop fighting.

  If she could find a way to survive with Armored Bug and Swamp Stink after her, she could survive the corruption of the Galactic Senate.

  She was ready, ready to stride into the Senate chamber and support Bail.

  And then the message came in.

  Bail had been attacked on his way to the Senate chamber. He sent a message to Padmé on his way to the hospital: You must address the Senate.

  Onaconda Farr and Teckla stood by her as she gaped into the dark holoscreen. “You must give the speech in his place,” Farr said.

  Padmé shook her head. “If they didn’t listen to me before, why would they listen to me now?”

  Teckla gave her a small smile. “Because you do listen. You understand what the people are going through. Please. Your people are waiting for you.”

  It is not supposed to be me.

  But it is her.

  And she will fight.

  So Padmé takes a deep breath and strides in.

  She hears Mee Deechi proclaiming, “Unfortunately, Senator Organa is nowhere to be found.”

  “I will speak on his behalf!” Padmé announces.

  The whole chamber goes quiet. All eyes are on her. And suddenly, she is not afraid. She will speak for the people.

  She draws herself up. And she begins.

  She has no mask. She has no strategy. All she can do is speak from the heart.

  So she tells them about Teckla, how Teckla’s district rarely has electricity and running water as a result of the war, how children there can only bathe every two weeks. And how they have no light by which to read or study at night.

  “The Republic has always funded these basic services,” she says, “but now, there are those who would divert the money to the war, with no thought for what the people need to survive. If not for people like Teckla and her children, who are we fighting for? My people, your people—all of our people.” She feels her words reverberate through the chamber. “But if we continue to impoverish our people, it is not on the battlefield where Dooku will defeat us, but in our own homes.”

  The air crackles. No one is calling her traitor.

  When she finishes, there is a moment of silence and then cheers. She feels the change in the room. She feels every one of them thinking of the people back home. She feels the Republic and its strength. She feels it take one step back from the brink.

  The bill is defeated. She knows even before the vote is counted.

  Who knows what tomorrow will bring. But today the Senate showed itself to be more concerned about the people of the Republic than its own coffers.

  This is why she is here. This is how things are supposed to be.

  And this is why she believes in the Republic. It is not without corruption. It is not without darkness. But there is good at its core. And just because something good has darkness in it doesn’t mean you aba
ndon it. Just because there is darkness in something does not mean you do not love it. You show it love, you show it light, and you hope it chooses the light.

  CAPTAIN REX OF THE 501ST LEGION HAD seen many worlds during his service. Some troopers complained that all the planets blurred together. Rex had never found that to be true. Each one had its own sights, sounds, smells. This latest one—Umbara—was a case in point.

  Umbara was blanketed in shadows. You couldn’t see incoming fire until it hit you. Some of the jungle plants glowed red, but they weren’t safe to approach. Between their immense grasping tentacles and jagged-toothed maws, they were as much of a hazard as the Umbaran troops.

  Rex knew their mission. Umbara had aligned itself with the Separatists, and it was imperative that the Republic gain control of the strategic world by conquering its capital as quickly as possible. General Kenobi would advance from the south with the support of Masters Krell and Tiin, while General Skywalker and Rex’s men would approach from the north and take out enemy reinforcements. If they took the capital, the whole system would fall.

  General Skywalker and Rex’s battalion had reached cover right before a Republic bomber run took out the first wave of opponents. To Rex’s surprise, they were accompanied by a Republic gunship that veered toward their position. Rex wondered who was on it.

  The gunship landed, and a Jedi disembarked—a stern, four-armed Besalisk with a powerful build and two dual-bladed lightsabers clipped to his belt. Rex recognized him: General Pong Krell.

  “Master Krell, thanks for the air support,” Skywalker said in greeting. “What’s the reason for your visit?”

  “The Council has ordered you back to Coruscant,” Krell said.

  Skywalker stared at him. “Why?”

  “The Supreme Chancellor made a request, and the Council obliged. That’s all they told me.”

  Skywalker’s lips thinned. “I can’t leave my men.”

  “I’ll be taking over in the interim,” Krell said.

  Rex turned to General Skywalker. “Don’t worry, sir. We’ll have this city under Republic control by the time you’re back.”

  Skywalker smiled. “Master Krell, this is Rex, my first in command. You won’t find a finer or more loyal trooper.”

  “Good to hear that,” Krell said. “I wish you well, Skywalker.”

  General Skywalker hesitated, then boarded the gunship. Within moments it had lifted off.

  Rex was determined to make the best of the situation. “Your reputation precedes you, General,” he said to Krell. “It’s an honor to be serving you.”

  Krell’s response took him aback. “I find it interesting that a clone recognizes the value of honor.” His voice sharpened. “Stand at attention when I address you.”

  Rex did so, cursing himself. General Skywalker had never been so harsh—but he wasn’t serving under Skywalker now.

  “Your flattery is noted,” Krell went on, “but it will not be rewarded. There’s a reason my command is so effective. It’s because I do things by the book. Have all platoons ready to move out immediately.”

  Rex hadn’t intended flattery, but he wouldn’t have dreamed of arguing with the general.

  The march dragged on for hours, through difficult terrain. Rex’s attempt to win some respite for the troops met with Krell’s disdain. Krell refused to let them rest at all, insisting that time was of the essence.

  Rex received another unpleasant surprise when he reported on the battalion’s preparations midway through their march on the capital. “Sir,” he said to Krell, standing properly at attention, “we’re ready to make a surgical strike on the capital’s defenses.”

  “There’s no need, Captain,” Krell said. He was gazing in the city’s direction, although nothing was visible yet.

  “Sir?”

  “All platoons will execute a forward assault along the main route to the city.”

  “Sir,” Rex protested, “General Skywalker’s plan was to surprise them with multiple attacks. If we come in from the main route, the Umbarans will engage us in a full-frontal assault.” He dreaded the casualties that would follow.

  “Change of plans,” Krell said dismissively.

  “With due respect, sir,” Rex said, “we don’t know what we’re up against. It might be wiser to think first—”

  “Are you questioning me? This battalion will take the main road straight to the capital. You will not stop no matter what resistance you meet. You will attack with all our troops. Do I make myself clear, Seetee-Seven-Five-Six-Seven?”

  The address brought him up short. Another thing Skywalker had done differently. “Yes, General,” Rex said stiffly.

  Shadows cloaked the road to the capital on all sides. Even the glowing trees receded into forests of murk. The troops were sitting ducks.

  Suddenly a trooper screamed as fire exploded beneath his feet and flung him into the air. He was followed by another.

  “Mines!” Rex shouted. “Nobody move!”

  Everyone froze.

  Two troopers checked the fallen. “Oz is down,” one said.

  “So is Ringo,” said the other.

  Fives examined the road. “It’s booby-trapped. Everyone watch your step.”

  It was too late for caution to save them. Umbarans rushed them from all directions, firing wildly. They wore suits with helmets whose faceplates revealed pale features made sickly in appearance by greenish lights. Even worse, missiles started exploding among the troops, throwing up dirt—and bodies.

  “Hold your ground!” Rex roared, remembering Krell’s orders. Never mind that they were surrounded, and that they had no cover.

  The troopers did their best. Hardcase, ever bold, let loose with his rotary blaster cannon. But for all the clones’ firepower, the Umbarans had more. And the missiles kept coming.

  Soldiers fell, and fell, and fell.

  Despite orders, Rex couldn’t allow more of his men to perish. “Pull back,” he said. “Get the Umbarans to follow us. If we can draw them out, we can see them. If we can see them, we can hit them. Fall back now!”

  The troopers retreated, firing as they abandoned the assault. We had no choice, Rex thought.

  The Umbarans, scenting blood, pursued them. Rex’s plan might just work.

  “Regroup!” Rex called out. The troops slowed. “Hit ’em with everything you’ve got!”

  The Umbarans realized their mistake as they were met by withering fire from the clone troopers. It was their turn to retreat. The Republic’s troops were saved—for now.

  Rex’s relief was short-lived.

  “Seetee-Seven-Five-Six-Seven,” General Krell roared, “do you have a malfunction in your design? You pulled your forces back from the capital. The enemy now controls this route. This operation has been compromised because of your failure!” He punctuated his words by jabbing Rex in the chest.

  Fives intervened. “General Krell, Captain Rex saved this platoon. Surely you won’t fail to recognize that.”

  To Rex’s shock, Krell rounded on Fives and drew one of his lightsabers. It ignited an ominous green. “Ayarsee-Five-Five-Five-Five,” he growled, “stand down.”

  A Jedi wouldn’t really do that, Rex thought. Or would he?

  “Sir, yes, sir,” Fives said.

  Rex let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. “Sir,” he said, “I followed your orders in the face of a plan I thought severely flawed. A plan that cost us men—not clones! Men! While it’s my duty to remain loyal to your command, I have another duty to protect those men.”

  Krell put the lightsaber away. “I know I don’t command like the Jedi you’re used to serving. But I have my way, and it’s proven effective. It may be difficult, but these are difficult times.

  “I suppose your loyalty to your men is to be commended. That’s important in an effective commander. All right, Captain Rex, your opinion has been noted. Dismissed.”

  “I think he almost complimented you,” Fives remarked after Krell had strode off.

&
nbsp; Rex wasn’t so sure.

  General Obi-Wan Kenobi contacted Krell with their next mission: capture an air base critical to supplying the capital’s defenses. Rex understood that once again their battalion was crucial to the invasion.

  Their first view of the air base, from atop a steep ridge, gave Rex a better idea of what they faced. He surveyed the valley below through macrobinoculars, then said to Krell, “The base is heavily guarded. At least three tank divisions, plus guns.”

  Krell had a plan. “We’ll advance along the central gorge and engage their forces in a full-forward assault.”

  Rex’s heart sank. “The gorge is narrow, sir,” he said, hoping Krell would respond to reason. “We’ll only be able to move in single squads. Perhaps a closer recon would tell us if there’s a more secure route.”

  Krell glowered. “Obi-Wan and the other battalions are holding off the enemy while they wait for us to take out this base. We don’t have the time.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Rex told the gathered troops, “Assemble the squads into two divisions. We’ll move straight up this gorge towards the air base at the far side.”

  Protests rose from the ranks. Fives frowned. “We had to retreat from the capital because of the general’s flawed strategy. Now this?”

  Dogma said, “I agree with the general’s plan. We’re running out of time and this is the best option.”

  “No recon?” Jesse asked. “No air support? We don’t know what we’re up against! They have weapons we’ve never seen before!”

  Despite his own reservations, Rex couldn’t undercut the general. “A few of General Skywalker’s plans seemed reckless, too,” he said, “but they worked.”

  “General Skywalker leads from the front,” Fives said, “not bringing up the rear like General Krell.”

  While the troops muttered among themselves, Rex took Fives aside. “It would help if you’d ease their minds.”

  “You mean coax them into another of Krell’s suicide missions?” Fives shot back.

  That was borderline insubordinate. “Krell does things differently,” Rex said, “but he’s a recognized war hero.”