Star Wars: Jedi Trial

by Sherman, David

  After the initial landings, which went off unopposed, Tonith’s gunners began to take the landing area under heavy fire, destroying several transports and supply caches. This forced Halcyon and his commanders to establish a depot some thirty kilometers distant, behind a row of hills that shielded the incoming transports and their off-loaded cargoes from Tonith’s direct-fire weapons, although making it to the depot was tricky because the ships had to make planetfall about three hundred kilometers away, and then proceed to the depot by flying low to the ground to avoid Tonith’s guns. And then the transports had to run a gauntlet of fire to get to the troopers in contact with the Separatist droids. Many transports were lost.

  Odie squeezed into the corner beside Raders. Erk joined her. “Hi, killer,” Raders said.

  Odie grimaced. “I don’t like that name.”

  “Get used to it. You earned it,” Vick said.

  “It’s getting mighty crowded around here,” Raders said.

  “Yes, why don’t you two leave?” Odie responded.

  “We were here first,” Raders quipped.

  Erk decided it was time to intervene. “We got tired of hanging around the FDC with no missions on schedule just now. Thought we’d come up here and stand around awhile.”

  “Yessir,” Vick responded with a who cares shrug.

  “Quiet back there,” a staff officer snapped.

  Anakin, a cold glass of precious water in his hand, sat in the command post making his report to Halcyon. “They were ready for us, Master Halcyon. My initial casualty reports put my losses at over six hundred killed, wounded, or missing. Among the missing is the entire team of commandos I sent to pave the way. None of them came back.” He sipped his water.

  “Our casualties in the other attack were over a thousand, and we don’t know how many of those are missing or dead,” Halcyon answered. “We’re right back at square one.”

  “It was a good attack plan,” Slayke offered. “Well coordinated, well planned, and well executed. Nobody needs to blame himself for what happened out there. Our opponent was ready for us, that’s all. We’ll have better luck next time.” He had just returned from inspecting the defensive line he’d established at the dry riverbed. He laid a hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “You and the clones fought bravely, Anakin. I’m glad you made it back. There’s one bright spot: it’s been hours now since our troops returned, and there’s been no counterattack. I think that means he doesn’t have the resources to mount one.”

  “We still have to get up there and dislodge him,” Halcyon said. “But no more frontal attacks.”

  “Whoever’s in command knows what he’s doing,” Slayke observed, “but no matter how good he is, he’s no better than the three of us together. I suggest we call in our fleet and burn him off the mesa.”

  Everyone within hearing of the trio stopped what he or she was doing and listened to what was being said. They’d all been thinking the same thing.

  “But—” Halcyon protested.

  Slayke shook his head. “I know what you’re going to say: we must try to protect the Intergalactic Communications Center and the lives of the surviving technicians. They’re being held hostage, that’s plain, but it’s also plain the Republic doesn’t make deals with criminals, which is just what these people are. If we want them off this planet, we’ll have to blast them off. The center and the technicians, Reija Momen, all of them, will be collateral losses, is all.”

  “I’ve heard friendly fire, and now collateral losses,” Anakin said, finishing the last of his water. He ran a hand tiredly across his face. “I’m getting good at recognizing all these euphemisms for death and destruction. But after what the clone troops and I have been through, I think Captain Slayke is right. It’s just…” He faltered as the image of Reija Momen sprang into his mind’s eye. “Well, he’s right.” He nodded at Slayke but refused to look Halcyon in the eye.

  At first Halcyon just stared at Anakin as if the young Jedi had uttered a horrible curse. He wanted to say, What’s come over you? but caught himself at once. Anakin had been through a meat grinder. Still, he was a Jedi.

  “The loss of life in this campaign has been terrible, I understand that,” he said slowly. “Captain Slayke, you’ve been hit hardest of all, and I fully understand your desire to end this bloodshed as quickly and as decisively as possible. Anakin, you’ve just been through a terrible experience yourself. You are both brave and capable commanders, and I’m fortunate to have you with me. But understand this: under no circumstances will we sacrifice the lives of the noncombatants to achieve a quick or a pyrrhic victory.” His eyes flashed as he spoke. “Remember, our mission is to save the people and the facility.” He sighed. “Now, let’s get to work and come up with another plan.”

  “Uh, excuse me, sir,” Corporal Raders said from the back of the room. “We were just wondering when you were going to send us into action.”

  “Why not ask them to join us?” Slayke suggested, grinning. “You could do worse, asking enlisted people for advice. That woman and the officer with the dressing on his arm, I know those two, and they know the terrain around here better than any of us.”

  “Why not?” Halcyon responded. “All of you, come up here with us and keep your ears open.”

  “You’re the one who shot Grudo,” Anakin said as Odie approached.

  “Yessir. It was a mistake. I-I—”

  “Friendly fire, not your fault, happens all the time,” Anakin said, not really believing it. He turned to Halycon. “When we go back, I want them with me.” He gestured at the two guards.

  “Why?” Halcyon asked.

  Anakin shrugged. “I just know I can count on them. They watched your back when you repulsed the boarders on the Ranger, and I need someone to watch mine now that my commandos have been wiped out.”

  Halcyon didn’t reply at once or directly. Something had come over the young Jedi, a hardness that hadn’t been there before. “Yes, we’re going back, Anakin, that’s for certain. And we’re not going to sit here licking our wounds.” He turned to a staff officer. “Get those ops people up here and let’s get to work.”

  Mess Boulanger drew himself up to his full shortness, stroked his mustaches, and replied, “Commander, I estimate it requires two thousand metric tons of matériel and supplies to keep your army running at the level of combat you achieved today. I have stockpiled more than that at our off-loading point, but as long as the enemy occupies the high ground, I’ve only been able to get a thousand tons a day in here, and that was with an unacceptable loss of transport landing craft, I’m here to tell you. We have enough on hand to mount one more full assault, and then you’ll have to fall back and regroup.”

  The officers around the table considered this information silently.

  “We can’t wait for resupply,” Anakin said. “And there is the chance that enemy reinforcements are on the way. If that happens the entire balance of power will shift to his advantage.”

  “Agreed. We must attack at once and end this siege,” Slayke said. “What does our fleet commander say?” He turned to Admiral Hupsquoch, commander of the ships in orbit.

  “We’re keeping a sharp eye on the cordon around Sluis Van,” Hupsquoch replied. “They have made no attempt to interfere with our blockade here, and if they did we’re more than capable of handling them. My concern is the same as yours, Commander Skywalker: the possibility that the Separatists have sent for strong reinforcements from somewhere else.”

  Halcyon nodded. “It would be very unlike the Separatists to mount an operation like this without a contingency plan to reinforce their army. What precautions are you taking against a surprise, Admiral?”

  “I have a screen of fast corvettes and cruisers spread out to a distance of one hundred thousand kilometers in every direction. The crews aboard all my ships are on full alert, half their complements constantly at battle stations.”

  “You?” Halcyon turned to his intelligence officer.

  “Sir, I’ve been in touch with C
oruscant constantly since we broke the enemy’s jamming. All the intelligence services at the Senate’s disposal are operating throughout the galaxy. None of them has found any indication that a major force is being assembled to come against us. That doesn’t mean the Separatists aren’t going to do that, only that we haven’t spotted it yet. And our communications integrity has been completely restored, sir. No more incidents like the one this morning.”

  Halcyon nodded. “Look at this display.” He flicked on a three-dimensional graphic of the terrain within a hundred kilometers of their position. “Reconnaissance shows that the enemy’s perimeter is very tightly drawn up there. He’s shortened his lines to consolidate his assets to better defend a three-hundred-sixty-degree perimeter, and he’s drawn it in close to the center because he knows how we value it and the lives of the technicians there. That is why,” he stated, nodding at his officers, “I will not permit the fleet to employ its weapons against him. It would mean complete destruction of everything up there.”

  “But our attacks, and in particular Captain Slayke’s campaign before we got here, have weakened him,” Anakin pointed out. “And remember what Sergeant L’Loxx noted during his reconnaissance: there’s a lack of maintenance among the battle droids. That could count in our favor at a critical moment.”

  “He can’t be resupplied at all,” Mess Boulanger added.

  “That’s right,” Anakin continued. “And in this environment, maintenance is key to combat power. I had no fewer than sixteen of my transports fall out of the fight this morning because of maintenance problems, but their crews have already gotten them back into commission. I don’t think he can match that. During our retreat—”

  “We don’t ‘retreat,’ Anakin, we perform a retrograde movement.” Slayke grinned, and several of the officers around him laughed.

  “We weren’t actually ‘retreating,’ we were just attacking in a rearward direction,” Anakin shot back. “Anyway, on the way back we found two dozen of the enemy’s tank droids out on the plain, abandoned. They’d just stopped functioning. So despite our losses, we’ve still got a lot of fight left in us, more than he has, I think.”

  “We can’t envelop him vertically; his lines and security are too tight to permit infiltration; we’re not going to waste our assets in another frontal assault; and I can’t use the fleet’s gunnery to dislodge the droids,” Halcyon said, summarizing the obvious options.

  “And he’s sitting up there waiting to be reinforced,” Slayke added.

  “So what do we do?” Halcyon looked around the table.

  “I know what to do,” Anakin answered, almost in a whisper.

  No one said anything. After a moment Halcyon nodded to Anakin to continue.

  The young Jedi stood up and looked around the command post. His face and hands were still filthy from the morning’s fight, and his clothes were stained and torn; there were lines in his face and bags under his eyes that had not been there before that day. But his voice was firm and his body language confirmed the fact that, although he was tired, he was ready to go another round. He was in control.

  “Give me fifteen clone troopers and one transport aircraft. Give me all the cover you can, and I’ll fly it right onto the mesa. I won’t do it directly. Under the cover of your attack, I’ll proceed to the off-loading point and then head in this direction”—he gestured at the display—“and fly about a hundred kilometers north, to this point, and then dogleg back in this direction, dogleg again and come in from behind. I’ll fly fast and skim just above the ground. I’ll land under the cover of your fire, get into the center, and free the remaining hostages. Once that’s done and they’re safe, let the fleet do the rest.” He sat down.

  “Let me get this straight,” a colonel, Halcyon’s operations chief, said. “Sir, you propose attacking with fifteen clones—”

  “Actually, seventeen soldiers in one transport aircraft. I’m taking the two guards with me.”

  “—seventeen, yessir. And with these seventeen you expect to break into the center, find the hostages, and evacuate them?”

  “That is correct, Colonel.”

  “It can be done,” Slayke said, smashing a fist forcefully into a palm. “It’s brilliant. It’ll probably get you killed, but it’s brilliant nonetheless.” He grinned at Anakin.

  “You don’t even know where they’re keeping the hostages,” the operations chief pointed out.

  “Yes, I do,” Anakin answered.

  “How do you know that, sir?”

  Anakin smiled. “Trust me, Colonel. I’m a Jedi,” was all he said. The colonel’s face turned red.

  “You’ll need someone who knows his way around in the center,” Halcyon remarked.

  “I know my way around there, sir,” Odie interjected. “I’ve been in the center many times.”

  The officers all looked at her, and she nervously shifted her feet.

  “What were you doing in there?” Erk asked.

  “Uh, well…” She glanced nervously at all the officers. “I knew someone on the defense force and…We had lunch up there and—” She shrugged. “—I got to know how the center was laid out.”

  “Take her along,” Halcyon said.

  “Sir,” Erk put in, “take two shuttles. You’ll need a backup.”

  “If we had a cleaning droid in here, maybe we could ask it for advice, too,” an officer remarked.

  “Excuse me, sir, but that’s standard procedure, and if you do that, I volunteer to fly the second shuttle,” Erk said. “And if you’re taking my wingmate here,” he added, laying his good hand on Odie’s shoulder, “you’ve got to take me, too. I insist.”

  “Lieutenants don’t insist,” Anakin said, “they follow orders.”

  “I insist, sir. I know you. I know your reputation. Well, I’m a fighter pilot, one of the best, and I’m tired of being stuck here on the ground.”

  Anakin looked intently at Erk for a moment. Then he nodded.

  Erk grinned at him. “Looks like I got my orders.”

  “But you’re wounded, Lieutenant,” Halcyon protested.

  “I’m better now, sir. Besides, I’m so good I could fly with my feet if I had to.”

  “I believe him,” Anakin said. “I’ll take him, the recon trooper—and two shuttle craft.”

  “Very well.” Halcyon shrugged. “If nothing else it’ll get all these hangers-on out of my command post and give me room to breathe in here. When will you leave?”

  “As soon as I gear up and we study the layout of the center, sir.”

  “Very well.” Halcyon turned to his officers. “We’ll lay everything we’ve got on those lines again. I want all the infantry to maneuver as if we’re attacking with our entire force right up the middle. Soon as we’ve got the enemy’s attention, Anakin goes in. When he’s rescued the hostages and we know they’re safe, Admiral, you direct everything you’ve got against that mesa. Slag the place. We can rebuild the communications center later. Commander Skywalker, this plan of yours is very risky—but I think it’ll work. That commander up there will never see it coming.” He held out his hand. “May the Force be with you, Anakin,” he said. Then he shook hands with each of the other four.

  “Well,” Anakin said, “let’s do it.”

  The two guards slapped palms.

  27

  Dondo Foth, captain of the picket frigate Mandian, was a thoroughgoing professional military man who spent most of his time when he was aboard his vessel on her bridge, alert, tending to the affairs of running a starship. That was one reason his vessel had been picked to patrol the outer rim of the cordon Halcyon had thrown around Praesitlyn. At this time he was 150,000 kilometers from the orbital fleet, a bit farther out than his orders called for. But acting on his own initiative, he took up his patrol course at that distance.

  “Just in case,” he told Lieutenant Commander Vitwroth, the Mandian’s executive officer. “Frankly, I think we should be out a million kilometers, far enough away from the main fleet that we can give t
hem plenty of warning if anyone tries to sneak up on us.”

  “Well, it’s mighty lonely out here, Skipper,” Vitwroth replied. “I like bright lights and plenty of company.” He grinned.

  Foth was from New Agamar, stocky, approaching middle age. He grinned back. “Let’s see those promotion packets,” he said to the military protocol droid that had been programmed to be his writer. One of the crew, probably with the droid’s connivance, had stenciled a first-class yeoman’s chevrons on its forehead. The crew’s name for the droid was Yeoman Scrapheap.

  “They are all ready, perfectly prepared according to naval regulations, Captain,” the droid answered. “You are recommending six of the crew for promotion: one to chief, two to first-class ratings—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know their names, too, Yeoman Scrapheap,” Captain Foth said. “I just want to make sure you haven’t made any mistakes. Last week you transposed two letters in a report to fleet. Tsk, tsk, we’ll have to have you scrapped if that happens again.”

  “That was a mere software glitch, Captain,” the droid protested, “and it has been fixed, I assure you.”