1,767To my surprise, I actually wrote this entire chapter in just four days. Four very long days, filled with not much sleep and a medically significant amount of caffeine, but four days nonetheless. I chose to sit on it for a while to give myself a chance to make some progress of my other story. I've been working with no buffer for too long, and it's been driving me mad, so I wanted to take the chance and get a little ahead of the curve.
This chapter marks the end of this arc, and therefore the end of the first arc of the Clone War. I have the next one planned out and mostly outlined by now, and I plan to make it shorter than this one ended up being. They can't all be this long, or this fic will top 1 million words before I get to Mortis.
I've posted a new poll on my profile. It's nothing serious; just a question I've been wondering about for a while now. If you have a chance, please go to my profile and answer it. Thanks.
Ukraine. At this point, I don't know what's going on with Ukraine, except that my government's actions aren't good for anyone. Regardless, until a long-term peace treaty is signed, and probably for a long time afterwards, the people of Ukraine can use our help. Please, donate what you can, as often as you can.
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Chapter 61
Captain Hack hadn't thought it was possible, but he was actually getting bored with blasting droids. He hadn't been keeping count of how many B1s and B2s he'd put blaster bolts through today, but it had to be somewhere in the dozens. Maybe nearing 100. Enough that his rifle's power pack, his second one so far, was running low. He ducked behind the meager cover of a bulkhead support strut, changed out to a fresh pack, and then promptly added three more droids to that number.
He grinned when he landed the third kill shot before the first droid hit the deck. Three headshots in less than 2 seconds, at a range of just under 100 meters, all while under withering enemy fire. Now that was shooting. He only wished Bacara could have seen it so he could grunt approvingly and glower in that special way of his. Sadly, his old CO was busy commanding an entire corps last he had heard. No doubt the grouchy bastard was quietly fuming at not being allowed to kill things as often as he'd like. Poor man. Hack would wipe away a tear when he wasn't getting shot at. For now, though, he had enemies to slaughter.
Captain Hack had been the CO of Hurricane company for the entirety of the war so far. He and his company of Galactic Marines had been assigned to the 91st Mobile Reconnaissance Corps under the 187th legion and High General Mace Windu in the immediate aftermath of the Battle of Geonosis. In the weeks since then, he'd seen more than his fair share of combat. The 91st was considered an elite unit for a reason, and they'd been thrown right into the meat grinder. While Hurricane company hadn't served on Geonosis, the nightmare that had been Christophsis more than made up for that in his book. After that had come Mon Gazza, then the skirmishes over Falleen and Paqwepor, and finally the brief but bloody fight in the swamps of Queel. As far as he knew, no unit had seen more combat than the 187th, and his men had been there for all of it.
For all that, this was the first mission where they had fulfilled their primary function as Galactic Marines. Namely, ship boarding actions. Their skill at boarding and fighting on enemy ships was the main reason a company of Marines had been attached to the 91st. It was one of the primary focuses of their training. However, he didn't think even the lunatics of the Cuy'val Dar had ever expected them to wind up on a ship as massive as the Malevolence. He wasn't complaining, though.
Taking over the Firecrest had already been the highlight of the war for him so far. After watching their ship go down in flames and so many vode die, stealing an enemy ship had done a lot to boost morale. He'd been a little miffed when Commander Uzumaki had used their new ride as a battering ram, but the chance to raid Grievous' secret weapon, a ship that had killed hundreds of thousands of vode, was ample compensation for the loss of the first ship they'd conquered. Now they were in sight of the bridge, and he could barely restrain himself. He had his enemy's throat in his jaws, and that was something every marine lived for.
Of course, that didn't mean it had been easy. The only reason they'd gotten this far was because the Malevolence only had a skeleton crew aboard. He estimated there were fewer than five thousand droids in the whole ship, and most of those were doubtless still running around after Commander Uzumaki's oh-so effective distractions. That one move alone had earned the commander his lifelong respect. He admired anyone who could turn being an obnoxious pain in the shebs into a legitimate battle tactic, and Uzumaki had that down to a science.
Even with most of the droids busy chasing phantoms, that still left about a thousand, by his estimate, for Hurricane company to deal with. Between their losses on the command cruiser and the Firecrest, Hack had come to this party with right around 100 men under his command, and no weapons more powerful than thermal detonators. 100 lightly armed men against 1000 entrenched battle droids. Perfect odds, as far as any Marine was concerned.
Taking a ship as large as the Malevolence wasn't like fighting aboard the Firecrest. There was little point in slow, methodical movement. The enemy would get behind them no matter what. Instead, it was more like a raid on the ground. The goal was to move too quickly for those enemies who flanked you to ever catch up and pin you down. His men had exceeded his all expectations in that regard, given that they'd reached the bridge in less than an hour. It had cost them, however. More than a third of their number had fallen along the way. Between the casualties and the men he'd ordered to guard Thrawn, Hurricane company was just over platoon strength. Every death only made the rest of them fight all the harder, however, as the droids in front of them were experiencing firsthand. Second by second, they were closing the gap to the bridge doors.
In groups of twos and threes, they bounded from cover to cover. One man would lay down suppression, while the others would make a mad dash for the next support strut. When they reached it, they would take over covering fire until their comrade reached them, and then the whole cycle would start over. It was a brutally efficient means of closing ground, and more droids fell with every meter they covered. By now, there were more scrapped clankers than there were live ones, and the "corpses" were starting to trip up the ones still working. He grinned as he surveyed the battleground and noted how close the lead teams were to the droids.
"If you've got detonators left, toss 'em now," he ordered over the comms. There was no point in saving them for later, and they might as well thin out the droids as much as possible before they got too close to risk explosions.
A chorus of affirmatives came over the net, and then a dozen of every clone's favorite toy arced towards the enemy. It was a mix of the shiny, spherical Class-A's and the cylindrical white N-20's. He pulled his own N-20 from the back of his belt, primed it for maximum power, and tossed it in with the others. For a few tense seconds, nothing happened. Then the fun began.
Explosions rippled across the mass of droids guarding the bridge, one after another. The flashes of baradium detonation lit the hall like a strobe light. Metal limbs went flying and armor plating turned into so much shrapnel. The noise was indescribable. Even after his helmet filtered its external audio, he could still hear the booms through the plastoid. Even better, he could feel them in his chest. The shockwaves pounded against his ribs and made the Mando in his blood sing. This was what he'd been trained for. This was what he'd been made for.
"For the Republic. Oya!" He shouted, and every man left standing echoed him in a roar that drowned out even the detonators. He had never been so fired up in his life. It was glorious.
Then some enterprising little shit on the bridge decided to piss on his excitement and decompress the entire deck.
It started with an alarm from his armor's life support system that the external pressure was dropping, and fast. He barely had time to process the alert before the loss of pressure went from rapid to explosive. A howling wind almost knocked him flat as all the air left the hallway quick, fast, and in a hurry. The fires from their thermal detonators vanished. All sound, save for his own heartbeat and breathing, faded to nothing. Frost formed on his armor and visor, and bone deep cold clawed at his fingers before the microthermals in his blacks kicked in. He felt a gentle whir on his back as his armor's life support systems kicked in, and a series of status icons appeared on his HUD. They all showed green, thank the stars. He was fine. A quick glance around told him most of his men were also fine. Not all of them, though.
Their armor's life support was conservatively rated for an hour of hard vacuum, and could shrug explosive decompression as easily as it could a light breeze, but only if it was intact. It wasn't intended to act as a primary vac-suit, just an emergency backup. Damage to the electronics, or a breach in the armor itself, rendered the whole system useless. There were no sealable compartments to isolate compromised sections. That meant every injured man left on the deck was now effectively sitting naked in space.
Hack glanced to their rear, where the most recent casualties had taken cover, and let out an unsteady breath. He couldn't see much through the frost on his visor, but what he could make out was enough to carve a permanent spot in his nightmares. Cold-shirt casualties were some of the most brutal. A few of his brothers still writhed helplessly, clutching their helmets. Most lay still. Blood had boiled out of every open wound, painting armor and walls alike in grisly patterns. Before he looked away, he spotted the beginning of bloat as soft tissue stretched around unyielding armor.
"Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la," he whispered. A warrior's rage filled his heart. He would count the dead later and honor their names, but now there were still enemies to kill. It was vital that Hurricane company maintain the momentum they'd built. Too many battles had been lost at the last minute because the leader had allowed his men's momentum to falter. That would not happen today.
"Press forward!" He shouted into his comm. "Pick up suppression! Go, go, go!"
To make sure his men got the message, he flipped his rifle to full auto and sent burst after burst of azure blaster bolts into the thin line of droids left at the door. He advanced as he fired and roughly shoved a few troopers forward to get them moving. Return fire came and missed him by centimeters. His heart lurched into his throat and he swore his stomach pulled off a move he'd only seen from the Twi'lek dancers on the holovids he pretended he didn't know the men had. He didn't let it slow him down, though. Today, death was on his side.
His reckless advance had the intended effect. Their assault, which had teetered on the edge of disaster with that last, desperate ploy by the enemy, came back together with a vengeance. He wasn't the only one who'd realized what the decompression had done to their wounded, and his men transformed from elite warriors to demons of death and hatred loosed from the deepest Sith hells.
He couldn't hear the droid's inane babble in the airless hall, but their flailing limbs and attempts to flee as his marines charged them painted a picture. Some of his men ignored their blasters altogether and wrenched the droids' heads off with their bare hands. One droid dropped its blaster and tried to hide behind the bodies of its fellows. Four clones opened up on it with so much fire its torso actually melted. Hack took in the violence with grim satisfaction and lined up shot after shot. Nine droids went down with holes in their heads before he was done. When he scanned for a tenth, though, he couldn't find one. All the droids were down. It was over.
"Cease fire," he ordered. Immediately, the flashing light of blaster bolts vanished. "Third squad, hold security. First squad, prepare to breach those doors. Second squad, with them. On my mark."
While just a moment ago his men had resembled rabid beasts more than disciplined soldiers, they executed his orders with speed and efficiency. Of course they did. There were more enemies on the other side of the blast doors. Specifically, somewhere in there was the walking dead thing that had murdered their wounded brothers. Hack doubted they would ever know which droid had pushed the button, but it didn't matter. He intended to be generous in how he shared his wrath. Everyone was going to get a piece.
The breach team knew their job well and had charges set in less than a minute. Not normal breaching charges, though. The bridge was behind a set of heavy duty blast doors. Duranium-ceramic composite plating, with a doonium core. Ordinary sizzler paste wouldn't even scuff them. Fortunately, while they'd been waiting for Grievous to arrive at Corellia, Commander Uzumaki had cooked up something special for them. Hack couldn't say he understood what all the commander had said, but between talk of seal radials and chakra circuit interfaces, he'd gathered a couple of things. One, the charges were some unholy combination of high grade explosives and Jetii magic. That probably accounted for all the bits of paper covered in squiggly lines. Two, they would cut through the best blast doors in the galaxy like a lightsaber on death sticks. That was all Hack needed to know.
Once everyone was a safe distance from the doors, he gave the signal. "Three, two, one… breach!"
He wasn't sure if Uzumaki's breaching charges were extra loud or not, given the total silence of vacuum, but they were certainly bright. Absurdly bright. Brighter even than any flash bomb he'd ever seen. His visor tinted as dark as it could go, which was basically opaque, and he still had to squint at the harsh glare. The blinding light only lasted for a second, though, and when it faded, the blast door was lying in chunks on the deck. The edges of each piece glowed white hot. Beyond, he could see into the bridge. Finally, victory was theirs.
He didn't need to give any orders. His men knew how to secure a room. Smooth as Alderaanian silk, a dozen of them moved forward, blasters already seeking targets. There were plenty available, and it was obvious none of them had been expecting them to breach the blast doors so quickly. It was over almost before it began.
There were perhaps thirty droids on the bridge, and only a handful of them even had weapons. They were scrap before they even got a shot off. The others were doing something under their consoles as fast as they could, but his men were faster. Hack let his men handle the B1s. His focus was on the large, boxy tactical droid standing in the center of the room. It backed away from him and glanced from side to side, perhaps searching for a weapon. He didn't wait to find out. One well-placed shot severed its neck joint, and another fried its power core. Its cranial unit fell to the deck a meter from the rest of its body, still intact. That was good. A tactical droid's memory banks would be an invaluable intelligence source.
All in all, it took barely 30 seconds to clear and secure the room. As soon as he was satisfied there weren't any nasty surprises waiting for them to drop their guard, he ordered one of his more tech savvy marines to re-pressurize the deck. It was easy enough. Most ships made a point of letting you know how not to expose yourself to hard vacuum. A minute later, his life support system detected an acceptable atmosphere and shut itself off. As it did, a knot in his stomach unclenched. His armor was all well and good, but he preferred more than a few centimeters of plastoid and duraweave between him and the cold emptiness of space. Once he was confident they weren't in danger of suffocating, he moved on to the next phase of the plan.
"Quasar, Trigger; copy the ship's memory banks. Be careful not to trip any failsafes. Eno, Rip, Var; see if you can get control of the weapons. Let's see how the Seppies like getting shot in the back. The rest of you; do what you can about the droids. Blast doors, security shields, turbolifts, airlocks. Scrap 'em or trap 'em. Remember people, we're on the clock, and we've still got friendlies aboard. Let's not space the commander after he let us have all this fun."
Just like the long necks had drilled into them, they leaped to and took up stations around the bridge. He double checked with the security team outside to make sure they had everything under control. Their squad leader had a more than just a spark of initiative in him it seemed, as he'd set them to building improvised barriers out of the scrapped droids. He'd even thought to include secondary fallback positions. Hack made a note to keep an eye on the sergeant for future promotion.
Satisfied that they weren't in immediate danger of counterattack, he stepped back into the bridge. Naturally, in the twenty seconds he'd been gone, something had gone wrong.
"We can't access most of the controls," Eno reported without looking up from his screen. "They must have transferred control to a secondary location and locked out the bridge consoles."
"How long will it take to bypass?" It wasn't an unexpected tactic. As fast as they'd moved, there had still been plenty of time for Grievous or the tactical droid to prepare for the worst. Depressurizing the deck had been a desperate ploy. This was their last-ditch attempt to keep control of the ship.
"A few minutes for stuff like doors and lights," Eno said. "I can't get you weapons or helm control for at least an hour, though. They severed the circuits as we came in."
An hour? Hack swallowed his curse. It wasn't Eno's fault, and losing control would only make things worse. These things happened, and it was a leader's job to roll with the punches. "Do what you can. I'll let the commander know."
He reached for his wrist comm, but before he could even touch it, it flashed on and Commander Uzumaki's voice spoke out of it. He sounded… less than thrilled.
"Hack, this is Naruto. Tell me you're close to the bridge."
Hack winced. "We've secured the bridge, but the droids sabotaged the control circuits. It could be a bit before we have full control of the ship. Did you need something specific?"
There was a pause before Uzumaki replied. "Grievous set up some sort of self-destruct before he attacked us. He triggered it and ran off when Jiraiya kicked his ass. It would be nice if you could turn that off."
Ah. Well, that was certainly something. It struck him that perhaps raiding enemy flagships wasn't going to be as fun as he'd hoped.
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Naruto waited as patiently as he could for Hack to respond. To be fair to the captain, he'd just dropped quite a bomb on his head. Still, they were on a clock with Force knew how much time left on it, and an unpleasant surprise waiting for them all when it when ding. Patience was an… ongoing process for him, to say the least. Usually he could manage okay, no matter what Mace said, but with so much on the line it was hard not to climb the walls and howl. Jiraiya must have noticed his impatience, because he gave him a significant look. It wasn't judgmental, but it sent a clear message. Beating his head against the wall wouldn't get him anything but a sore skull.
Finally, Hack got back to him. "I'm sorry, sir, but we're locked out. I can't even confirm a countdown. Should… we evacuate?"
Naruto sucked in a long, slow breath, and focused on not crushing his commlink. It just couldn't be easy, could it? They were so close, and now-
'No!' He told himself. 'I'm not finished yet. Not after all we sacrificed to get this far.'
"No," he said as his determination firmed once more. "Grievous said the blast could take out half our fleet. We have to stop it."
"Aye aye, sir."
There it was again. That instantaneous, unconditional obedience. That trust which had nothing to do with Kaminoan genetic manipulation or psychological conditioning and everything to do with the clones' total and unwavering faith in their mission. Their faith that, as a Jedi, he would lead them to victory. It never stopped being terrifying, no matter how many times he heard it and lived up to it. One day, he knew he wouldn't be able to honor their faith in him. One day, he would probably fail.
'But not today. Not today.' Today, he was done losing people. So he wracked his brain. Determination was the key to success in his experience, but only when paired with something tangible. He couldn't just will the ship not to blow up.
Okay, so Yoda would probably huff at that and lecture that through the Force all things were possible, but he needed something more tangible than that. If the wizened Grandmaster wanted him to stop an explosion with nothing but his mind and a positive attitude, he could come up here and show him how it was done.
'Focus,' he told his brain. There were only so many ways to blow up a ship on command, and even fewer that could pull off what Grievous had claimed. Of course, he could have been lying, but Naruto doubted it. Jiraiya was confident the cyborg had been telling the truth, and it would be just like that monster to have a last ditch massacre button. So, big ship, bigger explosion, but a strict timeline. Grievous wouldn't risk getting caught in his own trap. He wracked his brain to remember everything he could about starship design, explosive engineering, and any potential intersections between the two.
"Hack, do you still have access to the internal sensor data?"
There was a pause, but briefer this time. "Yes, sir. We just can't make any changes to active or privileged systems."
That was something, at least. "Are there any areas of the ship that just started drawing a lot of power? Any systems that just switched on but don't have a clear purpose?"
Another pause. "No, nothing like that."
"That rules out scuttling charges," Ponds said. "What about a reactor breach?"
Naruto doubted it would be that simple. The reactor for a ship this size would be enormous, and a breach would be catastrophic, but wipe out half a planetary blockade fleet catastrophic? Probably not. Still, it was worth checking.
"What's the reactor doing? Anything unusual?"
"It's… that's odd." Hack sounded genuinely confused, and Naruto sucked in a breath. "Output is normal, but reactivity is up. Way up. The energy isn't doing anything, though. It's just… there. It'll overload the capacitance banks at this rate. Is that what they're going for?"
As Hack spoke, Naruto felt an idea coalesce. An idea that made shivers run up his spine. He had a bad feeling he knew exactly what all that energy was for. He hoped he was wrong, which almost certainly meant he was right.
"Give me numbers for the reactor. And check the hyperdrive. And the navcomputer. Tell me exactly what's going on with them."
Hack immediately rattled off a bunch of numbers for energy output, reactor pressure, hypermatter consumption and the like that would have normally sent Naruto into a mild panic attack. Now, they barely registered next to the other things he'd asked. He waited on tenterhooks for what felt like an eternity before Hack got back on the comm. "I'm not sure I understand what I'm seeing, sir. They hyperdrive is spooling up, and the motivator's overclocking like crazy, but the navcomputer-"
"It's calculating a zero-point jump," Naruto finished, and he didn't need Hack's confused affirmative to know he was right. He and Anakin had even discussed something like this when his brother was teaching him about edge cases with hyperdrives on super-massive vessels. At the time, it had just been a theory. Now, it looked like Grievous was about to turn it into a horrifying reality.
A zero-point jump was, in theory, a hyperspace jump covering zero distance in zero time. Essentially, the ship would enter hyperspace and leave it at the exact same moment. In practice, it was just a reference point pilots and engineers used to calculate things like time and fuel requirements; like the frictionless vacuum of elementary grade physics classes. No real hyperdrive could achieve a zero-point jump. The strain of entering and exiting hyperspace simultaneously would destabilize the motivator and lead to a very big boom. Besides, no one was interested in trying. After all, a hyperdrive was for crossing the vastness of interstellar space, and a zero-point jump was literally going nowhere fast.
However, there was one possible real world use for a zero-point jump. One horrifying, terrible use that had, up to now, just been a thought experiment amongst the more unhinged type of starship engineers. Theoretically, if you had a big enough hyperdrive and a big enough power source, you could build up an insane amount of energy with the power source, initiate a zero-point jump, and at the exact moment the hyperdrive motivator tried to phase the ship out of and back into realspace, dump all that stored energy into the hyperdrive. Timed right, rather than just slipping the ship into the extra-dimensional realm of hyperspace and back out again, the destabilizing motivator would rip a hole from realspace into hyperspace.
Technically, that was what a hyperdrive motivator did every time you jumped to hyperspace, but normally the hole was one way and very narrow. A precise amount of energy, namely your ship, could enter or exit, but nothing beyond that. It was part of the calculations for a jump. With a zero-point jump, though, the entry and exit points were the same point in spacetime, which made the hole a two-way speederlane. From there, the dump of excess energy would tear the hole wider than it was ever meant to be, and send a massive hypermatter annihilation event straight into the turbulent extra-dimensional energy maelstrom of hyperspace. That maelstrom, now freshly agitated and destabilized, has a perfect exit valve through which to pass into realspace. The end result; a hyperspace storm, but in realspace.
'Stars. That won't just destroy our fleet. It could wipe out half of Corellia.'
From the lack of panic in their Force signatures, neither Ponds nor Jiraiya knew about the potential consequences of what he'd just asked about, and he didn't have time to explain it to either of them. Jiraiya was busy on a comm of his own, no doubt warning the fleet to move off. It wouldn't do them any good if the hyperspace storm came. Jiraiya gave him a questioning look, and he tried to convey through his expression the level of "oh kriff" they were dealing with. He must have succeeded, because his godfather nodded once and said nothing. That was good, because Naruto figured he had maybe five minutes to figure out how to save everyone on the ship, as well as everyone in the blockade fleet, and possibly ten billion or so people in the planet below from a bomb no one, as far as he knew, had ever been stupid enough to build before now. There certainly wasn't any SOP for how to disarm a bomb that was also the biggest starship he'd ever seen.
'Except it's not about the size,' he realized. Yoda had half-a-dozen sayings to that effect. It was never about how big the problem was. It was about finding the point where it all came together and poking it just right. That he'd learned from Mace. And in this case, it was obvious what that point was.
A plan formed in his mind. A plan that would, if he could pull it off, save everyone. Unfortunately, it was probably impossible, and would almost certainly get him killed to boot, but he could worry about the little details as he went. One step at a time.
"Listen up, everyone," he said, both to Ponds and Jiraiya and into the comm. "I have a plan, but I'll need everyone to do exactly as I say. Hack, do you have control over blast doors or internal particle shields?"
"I- yes. Doors, at least. Eno says we'll have internal shields in the next minute."
He nodded. "Good. First, open the blast doors nearest my position and recycle the air. Grievous put something in it. Then, on my mark, close every hatch, porthole, blast door, and emergency bulkhead. Activate every particle shield barrier in the ship. Make every section as airtight as possible. Got it?"
"Yes, sir."
A moment later, the blast doors at either end of the hall slid open and the vent fans whirred to life. Naruto barely heard any of it over the sound of his heartbeat in his ears. In his mind, he went over the schematics of the ship, hoping with everything he had he was remembering them right. He raced back down the way they had come, and Ponds and Jiraiya followed behind. The engines were a little further aft, but now he had a slightly different target in mind. And it should be-
"Here." He skidded to a halt in front of a large set of doors and wrenched them open with the Force. A pair of B2s stood guard just inside, but he sliced them in half before they could do more than reel back in surprise. Beyond them was a cavernous room, dominated by a monolithic machine. It resembled a massive cylinder, ridged and tapered at both ends, with an enormous spherical bulge in the center. Dozens of support struts and walkways led from the walls to monitoring stations along its length, while a forest of cables and tubes festooned its surface. The entire contraption was easily 300 meters high and 150 meters across at its widest. It was the ship's primary reactor.
Under normal circumstances, Naruto would have taken hours to marvel at the incredible feat of engineering in front of him. It was, by far, the largest reactor he'd ever seen fitted to a starship, and he'd have loved nothing more than to spend days with Anakin and Ahsoka just tinkering with it. Sadly, that wouldn't be possible.
Once he'd confirmed that, yes, he was in the right place and, no, there wasn't a small army of droids to deal with, he turned back to Jiraiya.
"I'm going to need your help. When it's time, give me the hardest push you can. I'll let you know when."
Jiraiya frowned. "What are you-"
He shook his head. "No time. For now, put a few bulkheads between you and here. Go." When neither of them moved, he put the Force into his voice. "Go, now!"
They went. Reluctantly, begrudgingly, and with looks that told him he'd be hearing about this later, at length, but they went. That was fine. He'd happily take lectures from every Master in the Order if it meant he was still alive to hear them at the end of all this. He gave them a count of twenty to get a decent distance away and then keyed his comm again.
"Alright Hack, button her up."
"Aye sir." Behind him, blast doors slammed shut. He could hear the distant thumps as the same happened all over the ship. A second later, a hazy blue particle shield flickered on in front of the doors. "She's locked down as tight as we can get her, commander. Oh, and Eno says you've got just over five minutes before the reactor blows up and kills us all. Just in case you were interested."
Just for that, just for giving him some tiny spark of humor at the end of this seemingly endless nightmare of a mission, Naruto resolved to put Hack and all his men in for shore leave on the most beautiful planet he could find at the very next opportunity. A world with pristine beaches, beautiful women, and an alcohol industry capable of withstanding the demands of a few dozen Galactic Marines. That last bit would narrow his choices some, but he would make it happen even if he had to learn how to brew sake himself to do it.
If he had just over six minutes until the reactor ruptured, then he had just under six minutes until it dumped its power into the hyperdrive. He could interrupt that process a dozen different ways and prevent the hyperspace storm, but all of them still left him with the issue of the massive hypermatter reactor on a runaway to overload. All of them but one.
"Oni, I'm gonna need a pickup in a few minutes, so be ready."
"Interrogative: Where will you need to be picked up?"
He smirked. "Trust me, you'll know."
"Prediction: You are about to do something stupid." Even over a comm, the droid could make itself sound sarcastic.
"Well, when am I not?" Naruto said by way of reply before he shut off his comm. He would need complete focus for what he was about to do. He closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths, and then let himself sink deeper into the Force than he ever had before.
It was like plunging into a perfectly calm, perfectly warm ocean of rainbow light. The physical world washed away in the face of something far more real. Far below him, he could sense Corellia. It was a sphere of fire and sparks and activity. A place of making and doing and living. He could sense Anakin and Ahsoka on its surface; spotlights against a background of forge sparks. They were both in pain, but alive. He brushed against their signatures and felt them respond in kind; a friendly hug from thousands of kilometers away.
All around him, he could sense the Malevolence. Though not alive, the ship lived up to its name. The Separatists had built it as a weapon for spreading terror and misery, and in its brief existence Grievous had used it for exactly that. It had slaughtered hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions of people, and that legacy of pain and blood had soaked into every last rivet. If Quinlan had set foot on this ship, he probably would have puked. Naruto didn't have his gift for psychometry, and even he had to wrinkle his nose at the malice that leaked from it. It pressed against him like a cloud of choking ash, dimming the light of the rest of the galaxy.
As unpleasant as it was, though, it was the ship Naruto had to focus on. For what he had planned, he'd need every ounce of power he could muster. So, against the poisonous fume of the Malevolence, he brought the greatest weapon in his arsenal; his friends. He thought of Anakin, and late nights in the machine shop at the Temple rebuilding speeder engines they'd burned out racing. He thought of Aayla, and the sweets she used to bribe him with to keep him from setting his homework, and the instructors who'd assigned it, on fire. He thought of Barriss, and the random books he would find under his pillow when they were both Initiates. It had taken him a long time to figure out it was her who'd been leaving them for him, because she knew he'd read them out of curiosity if they were a mystery.
Most of all, he thought of Ahsoka. Of her eyes when she laughed and the feel of her lips on his. Of the way even the Force brightened when he was near her and the way she would use him as a mixed cushion/space heater whenever the whim struck her. Of the way their friendship had become something more after Geonosis. Something he was still terrified of, but also more excited for than he'd ever been about anything. And, naturally, of all the clever, biting names she would call him when he told her about this. Because he would tell her about this. Because this was going to work. He'd already decided, and if the universe had other plans, it was in for a serious rethink.
He loved his friends, and that love gave him power. The Force flowed through him with such intensity he felt like nothing more than a valve channeling its might. It built up inside of him like a storm, whirling and crackling and eager to do. To act. So act he did. He took that power, more than he'd ever tapped into before, and reached into the ship. With thousands of invisible, intangible hands, he took hold of the ceiling above his head, and the deck above that, and the one one above that. On and on, deck after deck, until he had a grip upon the outer hull as well. Then, heaving with the strength of all the people he loved and wanted to keep safe, he ripped the Malevolence open.
It sounded like the end of the world. The shriek of tearing metal tore at his eardrums. Alarms wailed, lights flashed, and sparks fell like rain in a monsoon. Through the Force, he could feel the durasteel crumpling and tearing like flimsi. He could feel the crunch of plastoid and the tingle of severed circuits. The entire ship shook like a bucking Kybuck as he peeled a dozen decks back like the top of a can. Surprisingly, it wasn't as hard as he'd thought it would be. It wasn't a walk in the park, but it also wasn't the skull splitting, spine crushing strain that he'd expected. He didn't feel like he was at his limit. Not even close, actually. Then the outer pressure hull tore, and things got a lot more difficult.
He'd known it would happen, of course. If you tore a hole in a spaceship's hull, the nothing got inside. Every child in the galaxy knew that. It didn't mean he was looking forward to it, though. Briefly, he wished he'd kept the vac-suit from his earlier crossing, but there wasn't anything to be done about it now. He'd just have to cold-shirt it. The supply sergeant back on the Thunderhead would probably consider his due for losing another vac-suit.
First came the wind. Even with a hole as large as he was creating, air could only vent into space so fast. Explosive decompression didn't quite live up to its name when dealing with the sort of volume he'd just opened up. Instead of a sudden burst, the atmosphere became a howling wind rushing past him at nearly the speed of sound. It drowned out all the other noises, and then it got louder. It drowned out the strain and the shaking, and then it got louder still. Naruto felt his left eardrum rupture, and his face felt like it was trying to part company with his skull. He might have screamed. It was too loud to tell. And then it wasn't. After a few seconds, the gale slowed. The shrieking got quieter. Then quieter. Then quieter still. What sound remained distorted, pitching higher and higher while getting ever softer, until even his ears couldn't pick anything up. It wasn't that nothing was making noise. There just wasn't any air left to transmit it.
At the same time, it grew cold. Terribly, deathly cold. Frost coated his clothes and stung at his eyes. His teeth ached like some malfunctioning dental droid was taking them out with an auger. The surface of his tongue fizzed and then burned as if he'd swallowed a mouthful of fire wasps. What little air he hadn't already exhaled left his lungs of its own accord. Pinpricks, like needle jabs, sprung up all over his body, starting as a tingle and then growing until he could barely stay standing. From there, his brain just couldn't parse the information his nerves were sending and lumped everything under the twin banners of cold and pain. It grew and grew until he was about to pass out. The only thing that kept him conscious was the knowledge of what would happen to his friends if he failed now.
Instinctively, he used a trickle of the power he'd summoned to reinforce his body with chakra. As it suffused his skin and muscles, the pain retreated. His skin stopped feeling like it was ripping itself apart, and instead just burned like he'd taken a bath in drain cleaner. His vision returned, and the taste of blood receded a little. Despite the improvement, though, he knew he had to be quick. Jedi could handle a lack of breathable atmosphere better than any ordinary being, but eventually the lack of oxygen would catch up with him. He had minutes, at most. Fortunately, there was every chance he'd die in a reactor overload before he asphyxiated, so that was comforting.
There was no way to stop the reactor from exploding at this point. From the readings Hack had given him and the fact that Grievous obviously intended for his trap to kill them, Naruto wasn't about to waste time trying to put brakes on that meteor. In a few minutes, there was going to be a truly stupendous explosion. The only question was, where exactly the reactor would be when it went pop. If he had his way, it would be well outside the ship, which was why he'd made himself a convenient garbage chute to chuck it through. Now he just had to tear it free without blowing them all up early.
Unsurprisingly, it wasn't easy. Whoever had installed the reactor really, really hadn't wanted it going anywhere. He twisted and scrabbled at the support struts, but they were maddeningly strong, and there were dozens of them. Snapping each one took at least a second, which was time he simply didn't have.
With each passing moment, the cold nothing of space clawed deeper into him. Every inch of him ached, despite the chakra strengthening his body. He could feel his heart pounding against his ribs; feel his pulse throbbing in his skull. His lungs had moved beyond crying out for air, and were now staging violent protests to demand the stuff. The vast power that had flowed at his command just seconds before threatened to falter as his focus wavered. He scrambled to keep a hold of it, but it just slipped further away. Fear joined pain and hypoxia in poisoning his focus. If there had been air, he would have sobbed. He couldn't fail. Not yet. People were counting on him. People were-
'I've got you, brat.'
Strength poured into him. Familiar strength, like a forest of weathered old trees, all joined together to prop him up. He knew that Force signature. Jiraiya. His godfather was there to help him.
As he had once done for Ahsoka when she was still struggling to form chakra, Jiraiya acted as a steadying hand for his connection to the Force. His wavering focus sharpened, and his grip on the Force firmed once again. The pain was still there, but with Jiraiya helping him shoulder the burden, he could manage it. For a little longer, at least. Long enough. All he needed was long enough.
With one final heave, he wrenched the reactor free of its mountings. Then, together with Jiraiya, he flung it out of the hole he'd made and into space. It was eerie, watching something so large move in complete silence. The cables and pipes that had led away from it all snapped with ease, and coolant gushed out of several of them. That was his cue for the third and final step of his mad plan. As the main body of the reactor sailed out of the room and towards space, he jumped onto it.
Catching a ride on a destabilizing reactor wouldn't normally have been his first choice of an exit strategy, but his options were limited. He couldn't stay where he'd been. The coolant leak would have killed him in seconds if he'd tried. He couldn't go back through the doors he'd come in. The blast doors in half the ship were probably jammed shut after he'd ripped the hull open, and he didn't have time to cut his way through them. And he couldn't go into a Jedi hibernation trance. He didn't have enough air to fully enter the trance before he died. So, reactor riding it was. Besides, there was one last thing he needed to do.
His vision was flickering between red and black. The burning in his lungs had vanished, and in its place was a worrying numbness. At least, it would have been worrying if his thoughts weren't so fuzzy. Everything was dull and distant. His body felt puffy, like a cloud, and as he left the ship's artificial gravity, he barely noticed the sudden weightlessness. He barely noticed anything, in fact. He was dimly aware that he was dying, but he couldn't remember if that was a bad or not. It couldn't be all bad. After all, he had a wonderful view of the stars.
There was something else besides stars, though. Something orange and black and pointy. He couldn't make it out clearly, though. There was something wrong with his eyes. They wouldn't focus, and they hurt so very badly. Still, he thought the pointy thing was getting bigger. It kept blocking more and more of the stars until it was all he could see. It seemed familiar, and some tiny spark of instinct told him to go towards it. He didn't have anything better to do, so he let go of the reactor and let himself drift. He'd meant to push off in the direction of the orange thing, but his limbs weren't doing what he told them anymore. It moved towards him, though, so maybe it was okay. Something on it slid over as he got closer, and then he bumped his head on something firm. That wasn't very nice. First, this thing blocked the stars and now it bumped his head? Why would it-
Clunk… sssssshhhhhssssssssss.
AIR! Wonderful, glorious, sweeter than candy and more delicious than ramen air! He could breathe, and breathe he did, in great lungfuls that set his chest on fire. It was so thick he could almost chew it. The numbness vanished, and in its place was every sort of pain imaginable, and a few that were probably new to the world and eager to make their mark. Something else came with the pain, though. Clarity. Just enough to remember the last step in his plan. He reached back out to Jiraiya and gave him a mental prod. Jiraiya prodded back, and together, they pooled their strength and gave the reactor one last almighty push.
He couldn't see it, or much of anything, but he felt it sail away as if shot from a cannon. As it did, the sense of looming death that he'd been feeling ever since Grievous had activated his trap finally vanished. He'd done it. They'd done it. They were safe. He felt his fighter's engines fire up to full power, and a hint of g-force told him Oni had just accelerated them to full speed. It was also right then that his eardrums repaired themselves, and the distant warblings resolved into proper noises. Noises that included the whistles and beeps of a very irate astromech droid. It seemed to be in the middle of insulting every individual neuron in his brain, but before he could catch his bearings, everything lit up with the brightest light he'd ever seen.
"Brace brace brace!" Oni screamed. Even in his addled state, Naruto knew that one. He tried to brace himself and managed an enthusiastic twitch. That was it. His foot bumped something hard and smooth, and he realized he was upside down, with his head on the pilot's chair and his butt on the control yoke. Not a very dignified position, but moving was beyond his current abilities. Just staying conscious was proving a struggle. Then the reason for Oni's warning hit them, and staying awake became a lot easier.
The energy wave from the exploding reactor hit his fighter hard enough to send it tumbling end over end. He lost track of which way he was facing as he bounced around the tight, and very poorly cushioned, interior of the cockpit. At one point, his head slammed against something hard, then his knee got tangled in a bit of webbing. Something poked the wound on his side, which proceeded to voice some very strong opinions on being exposed to vacuum and then jabbed with a random switch bank. He tried to scream, and there was plenty of air, but all that came out was a raspy wheeze that felt like dragging serrated razor blades backwards out of his throat.
The shaking only lasted a few more seconds before the shock front passed and Oni regained flight control. He came to rest, still upside down, but this time with his head on the floor next to the etheric rudder pedals and his feet caught in the seatbelt above him. It was uncomfortable, and embarrassing, and a little gross (why had no one ever told him you had to clean under the pedals too) but he was mostly just glad the spinning was over. Slowly, the pain in his side and his head died down to more manageable levels. He still couldn't move, but at least it didn't feel like he was being stabbed all over again.
Once he was sure he wasn't going to pass out, he tried talking. He wanted to ask about the Malevolence, to see if it had taken any damage. His Force sense was too washed out from the strain of what he'd just done to tell. When he tried to speak, though, all that he could manage was, "Stuh- sssstah… Wsss stah?"
It didn't make much sense even to him, but Oni at least caught the drift, because he answered.
"Observation: The Malevolence suffered no structural damage from the explosion. Scans indicate back-up systems have engaged and life support is stable. Observation: You require medical attention. Statement: Setting course for the Thunderhead."
Naruto wasn't in any position to argue, so he did his best to relax and hoped no one had a holorecorder handy when they saw the position he'd landed himself in. Ahsoka would have enough ammunition as it was.
OoOoOoOoOoOoO
Mace Windu could safely say he'd had better days. Sure, they had won the day. Corellia was safe and (mostly) sound. Thanks to Captain Thrawn, the Republic fleet had taken minimal losses, while the remnants of the Separatist fleet were limping away to jump back to their space. Grievous' superweapon was a crippled hulk, and he'd already ordered additional units to board and help secure the massive ship. Jiraiya had warned they wouldn't be able to hold the bridge for long if the remaining droids attacked in force, and he wasn't willing to give up such a valuable prize. By any strategic measure, it had been a good day. Perhaps the best day for the Republic in the entire war. For him, though, one thing ruined any hope of celebration. He did not know where his Padawan was!
He knew Naruto was alive. Their bond was intact, and a massive, nine-tailed demon fox had not appeared to kill them all (because his Padawan simply could not do anything subtle). Jiraiya had told him the basics of what Naruto had done and why, but the amount of power he'd used had effectively blurred out every Jedi's senses in the entire system. Possibly beyond. He'd never felt such an overwhelming amount of power from a single Jedi before. Just the feedback along their bond had forced him to minimize the connection or risk losing focus on the battle. Even Yoda would have struggled to do what Naruto had just managed. There would be a Council meeting about this, he was sure of it. He could feel the headache coming on already.
His Padawan's terrifying potential aside, it meant the boy was somewhere out there, possibly cold-shirt, with no way to locate him. Mace was working as hard as he could to calm the waves in the Force so he could see clearly once more, and he could sense Obi-Wan, Jiraiya, and even Skywalker all doing the same, but it was taking too long. His fists clenched around nothing as each second ticked by like the footfall of doom. If Naruto was out there, and they didn't find him now-
Beep beep beep! An alarm shattered his concentration and brought him back to the bridge. The clone manning the sensor bank spoke without looking up. "Sir, we have an incoming fighter!"
Mace was about to ask for an identification when another alarm, this one a deep double chime, interrupted him. A different clone spoke up this time.
"Something just overrode my controls. The hangar doors are opening. Point defenses aren't responding. I'm going to- wait. I'm getting a message." He paused to read the words scrolling over his screen. "It has Commander Uzumaki's clearance code. It says it's his astromech and that we need to send a medical team to the hangar or it'll… well, it carries on for a bit. I think it might be malfunctioning, because it also says to bring a holorecorder."
Mace sighed in that unique mixture of relief and exasperation that only Naruto could inspire. On the one hand, hearing that Naruto was alive and not floating in space was the best news he'd had… well, since the last time his Padawan had pulled a damn fool stunt and almost gotten himself killed. So, at least a week. On the other hand, they would need to have a Talk about how Obi was able to slice into his flagship's systems. He'd been specifically assured that was impossible in his very first cybersecurity briefing. Apparently, no one had bothered telling that to Naruto.
"It- he- is not malfunctioning. Oni is just like that. Stand down tactical alert and have a medical team meet me in the hangar." He hesitated for just a moment before deciding Naruto had brought this on himself. "And make sure one of them has a holorecorder."
When he got to the hangar and saw the improbable way Naruto had managed to wedge himself into his starfighter, any defeat he might have felt evaporated. That image was going straight to his mental trove of treasured moments. His good humor evaporated, though, when he saw the state his Padawan was in.
There was blood all over him. His own, it looked like, from at least two major lacerations and a mangled hand. He recognized the pattern of the larger wounds. Someone had tried to cut his Padawan in half with a vibrosword, and if not for his armor, would likely have succeeded. As it was, he'd lost enough blood to knock out most other beings.
Aside from the cuts, he had all the signs of prolonged vacuum exposure. Red, blotchy skin, damage to his eyes, mouth, throat, and lungs, hypoxia, frostbite, and a bunch of more technical medical terms that Mace didn't recognize. On the more spiritual side of things, his use of the Force had obviously strained him. His shields were a shadow of their usual strength, and his presence in their bond was unstable. All in all, nothing life threatening, but he would need rest, treatment, and more rest. Before the medics spirited him off to sickbay, where a bacta tank awaited with his name on it, Mace took his uninjured hand and gave it a squeeze.
"Padawan, when you have recovered, I would suggest you make your explanation for all of this spectacularly good," he said with a sternness he did not feel. Seeing Naruto alive and more or less well was too much of a relief to hold on to his irritation at the insanity he had made of a simple recon mission.
'You did well, Naruto. I am proud of you.'
Naruto gave him a tired eye-smile, and then he was gone, leaving Mace to finally acknowledge how exhausted he was. He'd been running on willpower and caff for far too long, but there had always been another crisis, another duty, another thrice-damned fight. Now, for the first time since before the war began, he didn't have something else to focus on. It all caught up with him at once and he damn near passed out on the spot.
'I need a break,' he thought as he leaned against Naruto's fighter. It was that or collapse altogether. 'We all need a break.'
OoOoOoOoOoOoO
It took a bit longer than expected for Anakin to get an answer on who or what this mysterious Han was, and why Ahsoka found him important. Partially, this was because he was a little slow from blood loss, but mainly it was because, halfway through Ahsoka's explanation, his brother decided to ignite a small star in the Force. Ahsoka and Naruto had a close bond (Anakin had his suspicions about how close, but no certainty yet) and she was not used to sensing so much power all at once. Needless to say, she found the surge of power more than a little distracting. He sighed and let her stare up at the sky where Naruto was rearranging moons or the like. It wasn't until they made it back to the medical tent that he finally got an answer.
Han, as it turned out, was a human street urchin whom Kix had all but tied to his leg. The boy radiated sullen impatience into the Force, strong enough for even Anakin to sense it at a distance. Kix's own patience, which he would once have sworn was inexhaustible, was finally reaching its limit if the stiff set of his shoulders was any indication. Fortunately for young Han, they arrived before the clone medic snapped. As soon as his eyes landed on Ahsoka, his glower transformed into a lopsided grin and he waved wildly.
"Ahsoka! See, I told you she'd come find me. You're just- whoah! What the kriff?"
His excited clamor came to an abrupt end when Kix, having no doubt spotted the blood soaking through Anakin's trousers, bowled him over in his rush to snatch his medical bag and get to them.
"General! Commander! Sit down, before you fall down!" He bellowed. A little too late, as it turned out, because right then, Anakin's legs finally gave out.
'Oh, brilliant,' he thought, as everyone started shouting at once. 'Now I'm really in for it.'
Amongst the men of Torrent Company, Kix was known as an easygoing, laid back man; at least when off the battlefield. When it came to his duties as a medic, however, he was an unholy mixture of unstoppable force and immovable object. Vokara Che herself could have taken lessons from him on how to bully people into accepting medical care. Anakin looked down at his bloodied trousers, back up at Kix, and wondered if the universe would be kind enough to let him pass out from blood loss in the next three seconds.
It wasn't. The storm that was his irate medic descended upon them both. In short order, he and Ahsoka were on stretchers and headed back towards the medical tent, while Kix commed for a shuttle to evacuate the wounded back to the Resolute. The boy, Anakin noticed, stuck to Kix's side like glue, despite his earlier sulking.
"So, your name's Han?" He asked lamely. Anything was better than lying in silence while Kix judged him from the sidelines.
"Yeah. Han Solo."
"Nice to meet you, Han Solo," he said, and stuck his hand out for a shake. "I'm Anakin Skywalker."
The kid stared at his hand for a few seconds, and then back at him. He recognized the look in those eyes. Suspicion, confusion, and a little bit of fear, all topped off with a healthy dose of defiance and a side order of stubbornness. He'd seen the same look in his friends back in Tatooine, and in Naruto when they'd first met. And in his own eyes, when he looked in a mirror and remembered his childhood. This kid hadn't had it easy, even before droids had come to burn his world.
"Are you a Jedi too?" Han asked.
"Sure am. In fact, Ahsoka's my Padawan learner. I'm her teacher and her guardian." The shadow of jealousy passed over Han's face at his explanation, and Anakin seized the opportunity. "Have you got anyone like that?"
Han's face closed off like a Faybos trap. "No. But I'm fine!"
Anakin had to fight not roll his eyes. "Mmhm. That's why you were on the streets in my active warzone."
Han snorted. "What's it to you, huh? I can handle myself. I've been doing it long enough."
"I know you can, but you shouldn't have to." He propped himself up with a grunt so he could speak with a bit more authority. A kid like this Han wasn't going to listen to anyone who couldn't at least sit up. "I'll tell you what. Before we leave, I'm going to find somewhere for you to stay." Han made a face, but Anakin plowed on. "I know you don't want anyone telling you what to do or keeping you cooped up, but trust me. One former street rat to another. You'll be better off with people who can care for you."
Han was quiet for a long time after that. Long enough for Kix to finish patching up Ahsoka and move on to his legs. The boy looked away, a little green at the sight of his wounds. When Kix was, at last, satisfied neither of them were on death's door, he backed off. Anakin didn't miss the way the medic gave Han a once over as he passed, nor the rough pat on the head he gave the boy before he walked away to bully some poor troopers into drinking water and changing their socks. He certainly didn't miss the way Han tried and failed to hide a grin at the passing gesture of affection. When the boy looked back at him, Anakin saw guarded hope in his eyes and sensed the question in him before he spoke. He sighed, because he knew exactly what the boy was going to ask, and he knew what his response would be.
"Do- do you think I could come with you?" Han asked. "Away from here? I've always wanted to see the galaxy. I promise, I'll be useful."
Anakin sighed. It was the same question he'd dreamed of asking as a kid. The same question he'd finally been able to ask Qui-Gon, and the old Jedi had actually said yes. It had been the greatest moment of his life. Now, thanks to this damn war, he had to deny another child what he'd been granted.
"How old are you, kid?" He asked, mainly to buy some time until he could figure out how to deny Han without crushing him.
"Seven and a quarter," Han grunted.
Anakin nodded slowly. "Sorry, kid, but we're fighting a war right now. I can't bring kids into that, no matter how brave they are."
"But-"
Anakin forestalled him with a raised hand and channeled his best Obi-Wan impersonation. "This isn't a discussion, Han. You're too young to go to war. But trust me, your time will come. Be patient. Be clever. When you're old enough, that dream will still be there for you. In fact, I'll make you a deal. After we win this war, if you're still interested, I'll get you a spot in training with the Antarian Rangers."
Han's eyes went wide, as well they might. The Antarian Rangers were an elite group of pilots, spies, and soldiers who dedicated themselves to the same mission as the Jedi Order. They weren't officially affiliated with the Order, but they worked together often enough. Short of joining the Order itself, it was seen as the highest form of service to the Republic. More importantly, to a seven-year-old boy, it was probably the coolest job in the galaxy. He wasn't sure why he'd just promised to give Han a shot at joining, but he didn't regret it. Some instinct told him the boy had great potential. Even through the Veil, he could sense his future would be significant somehow.
"Really?"
He nodded. "I promise. But for now, you've got to go somewhere safe. And I need a vacation." He gestured at his bandaged legs. "A nice, relaxing vacation."
Because that definitely sounded like something he could pull off. Definitely.
OoOoOoOoOoOoO
Darth Tyranus glared at the ten centimeter tall hologram of General Grievous floating above his desk. His furrowed brow pulled uncomfortably at the scar that ran down the side of his face, but pain was nothing but fuel for a Sith Lord. "Is this all you have to report of your failure, general?"
Grievous certainly looked worse for wear after his encounter with Jiraiya. His chest plating was in ruins, he was missing a hand, and various fluids dripped from his cracked mask. Tyranus supposed he should be grateful his general had escaped the monstrous councilor alive, but he had difficulty feeling anything except contempt at the sight of the cyborg. He was useful in his way, but Tyranus could never respect a being so consumed by their own passions they would allow even a tenth of what Grievous had submitted to. And the pathetic creature didn't even realize he'd been manipulated. It was sickening to deal with such crude implements.
"I warned you of the weapon's weaknesses," Grievous said, and Tyranus would give him one point. He was brave. "It was too clumsy to be useful in open battle."
That, at least, was true. Grievous had warned him. But then, Grievous was not privy to the true nature of the war he fought. He still thought he was supposed to win every battle. In truth, the loss of the Malevolence meant little. It had done its job spreading fear and chaos in the Republic. His master was pleased at the political moves it had allowed him to make. And those same political machinations had given Tyranus the freedom to enact the next step in his own plan. A plan that would see Sidious dead at his feet and himself at the head of the New Order.
But Grievous didn't need to know all that. Tyranus had dealt with beasts like him before, and knew better than to give him any more lead than absolutely necessary. They could all too easily turn and bite the hand that held their leash. So he fixed Grievous with his most potent glare and held it until the cyborg looked away.
"Your excuses cannot disguise your failure, general. If you wish to redeem yourself, return to Confederate space and head off Jiraiya's counterattack. His forces will be spread thin along the Corellian run. Shorten your lines and let them break against you like water on rock. Slow them. Bleed them. Make them pay for every meter of ground they take. Is that understood?"
Grievous bowed his head. "Yes, my lord."
The hologram vanished, and Tyranus leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. That was Grievous dealt with, at least for the moment. Ventress was another matter. She was a useful tool, but she had an unfortunate habit of failing him at critical junctures. There would be a price to pay for this latest debacle, but later. For now, he had another mission for her. He could not afford to dispose of her yet, but if the Force favored him, soon he would be able to discard her in favor of a far superior apprentice.
The Dark side whispered in his mind of this possibility and that, of power and glory and death. He took it in his grasp and forced it to show him what he wanted to see. As always, it writhed against his will, and as always, he broke it like a prize Fathier. The future opened before him like a wound. For long hours he peered at it, examining every detail; chasing down every path. Finally, when he was satisfied, he let the Dark side go and rose from his meditation with a rare smile. Everything was in place.
He reactivated his comm station and typed in a complicated encrypt key. There would be no relaying this through the ship's main comm. He couldn't risk any trace of this appearing in the logs. Sidious was distracted for the moment with his own maneuvering, but that could change at any time. It took almost ten minutes to encrypt the message, despite its brevity, and another quarter hour before he got confirmation that his agent had received it. Only then did he finally leave his private office and make his way to his flagship's hangar. As he'd ordered, his solar sailer was already prepped and ready for takeoff as soon as he stepped aboard.
"Set a course for Iego," he ordered the pilot droid. It was, he thought, appropriate that it would be in a place renowned for the Angels, beings of radiant light, that Naruto Uzumaki would fall to the Dark side.
OoOoOoOoOoOoO
This turned out a bit longer than I expected, but I couldn't resist expanding the clone POV section. I haven't written a clone POV during combat before, and it's something I felt the story really needed. Also, as a former Marine myself, I just had to give the Galactic Marines a proper moment to shine.
The whole zero-point jump mechanic is entirely my own creation. It's always bothered me how risk-free hyperspace travel is in Star Wars. We're talking about a device that transports an entire ship into another dimension and back. There's no way no one could turn that into a weapon. Hyperspace storms were already a thing in Star Wars, so I just put 2 and 2 together and got a nuke the size of a small star.
If you have any comments, questions, or incoherent ramblings you feel the need to inflict upon me, please leave a review. See you all next chapter.