Chapter Text
Six hours after receiving the mobilization orders to deploy to Geonosis
Outer Rim, En Route to Geonosis
Dauntless – Acclamator class assault ship
Clone Marshal Commander Bly paused to let the sights and sounds of the bridge of the Dauntless wash over him. A cascade of blues, greens, and reds from various holoprojecters occupied his vision, and the chatter of his brothers talking over the comlinks filled his ears. Even from the small number of clones on the bridge, Bly could feel the heightened energy in the room, a certain anticipation that was new and exhilarating. The boys must be getting antsy down in the hangar Bly thought idly, while striding over from the viewports to the main holotable to survey the situation.
It had only been a few scant hours ago that the GAR had been issued its mobilization orders. They were sudden orders which had come without warning, but the clone army took pride in assembling as fast as possible. After all, they had trained and rehearsed rapid mobilization dozens of times in the past. Bly, for one, had been thrilled when the orders came down. He possessed absolute confidence in both his men and his own abilities. More importantly, he had been training his entire life to serve the Republic. Remaining indefinitely on Kamino would help no one, and Bly was eager to use his hard-earned skills to protect the citizens of the Republic.
At this time Bly knew very little regarding the reason behind the GAR’s mobilization. Their main priority was to assist the Jedi in rescuing two of their order and a Galactic Senator on the planet Geonosis. In addition, the GAR was to carry out pre-emptive strikes against the forces which had captured the Jedi and Senator. There had not been nearly enough time for Bly to absorb all the details—which suited him just fine. It was not his responsibility to question the motives of Republic’s enemies, he just had to fight them.
Glancing at the holoprojection, Bly saw a simulation of the Republic fleet travelling through hyperspace—twenty Acclamators and a number of smaller support and scout ships. The journey through hyperspace from Kamino to Geonosis was a brief one, and the simulation indicated that only an hour remained before arrival. Accordingly, Bly took leave of the bridge in order to inspect his troops before the storm began.
As marshal commander—the highest rank a clone could possess—Bly was nominally in command of the entire 327th Star Corps. The 327th wasn’t at full strength, however, and only several units were going to be involved in the assault on Geonosis: the 92nd and 101st Regiments, to be exact. Bly was taking over personal command of the 92nd, all told a body of 2,304 troopers. While Bly had often been isolated from the rank and file during his training as commander, he and the 92nd had developed strong ties which was why he was commanding them personally. Technically, Bly was too high-ranking of an officer to be commanding the 92nd Regiment from the front. However, Bly was a man of action, and, despite his strengths as a strategic commander, he would not be denied the privilege of leading his men into battle personally in their baptism by fire.
Having made his way through the Dauntless’s labyrinth of turbolifts and corridors, Bly finally arrived on the hangar floor. The sight that presented itself to him there was one he had seen countless times at the parade grounds on Kamino, but it never failed to send his heart racing with pride. The 92nd was arrayed into its various battalions and companies, each staggered between the LAAT/i’s and AT-TE’s. It was a magnificent sight to see his men, his brothers, clad in their armor and arranged in perfect formation. But they were more than parade ground soldiers designed solely to impress by their appearance. No, behind each helmet was a natural soldier who had been trained rigorously from birth. Bly had no doubt that these troops so splendidly arrayed in front of him were capable of achieving anything. Now, he only had to imbue them with that assurance.
Accordingly, Bly stepped forward and declared “At ease”. Following this command, the clones relaxed their posture and removed their helmets. Bly followed suit, relishing the opportunity to use his parade voice, unfiltered and unaided by his helmet.
“Men of the 327th, today is a pivotal moment in our lives. No longer will we wonder when our skills will be put to use. No longer will we languish on Kamino, isolated and hidden from the Republic. No longer! Today, we embark upon a journey to defend the citizens of the Republic, and to uphold its foundations of justice and freedom.”
Bly paused, and let his gaze wander over the rows of identical faces. He could tell by each man’s self-assured pose that he had no need to inspire confidence in men who already believed in themselves and their unit. The trust and loyalties developed in training cemented the natural regard that clones held for each other.
Bly continued, acknowledging the bonds forged during the rigors of training, “My brothers, bound together as we are by trust and loyalty, we are the finest fighting force this galaxy has to offer. Rely on your brothers, as you have always done, and nothing will be able to stand in your way.
“We have several mission parameters, which are subject to change as our intelligence is updated. Before we deploy, the Acclamator fleet will perform pre-emptive strikes on the Geonosian hangars to ensure air superiority. Once that’s achieved, we will be deployed in the Im’g’twe Hills to outflank the Separatists armies and core ships. Our primary objectives are to sabotage the Separatists’ vessels grounded on the planet and destroy or disable them before they can escape. Your company officers will brief you in more detail on your individual objectives. We will revert from hyperspace in less than 45 minutes. To your positions, men. Oya!”
With that, the Regimental Sergeant Major stepped in for him, roaring, “Dismissed!”. At once, the clones broke ranks and made their way to their assigned stations. Most went to the gunships. Seeing as they were to be operating in the broken and demanding terrain of Geonosis’ mountains, the 92nd was only bringing two AT-TEs for support. They would mostly rely on the gunships rather than the heavy artillery to provide the additional firepower.
In the meantime, Bly quickly returned to bridge. It was imperative that he be present there when the fleet jumped out of hyperspace so that he could coordinate the strategy with commanders on the other eleven Acclamator assault ships. The holotable on the bridge was presently showing a grainy image of Geonosis’s surface, while on the side a timer was counting down the time until the fleet jumped out of hyperspace. 31 minutes remaining. On the map of Geonosis were markers indicating where specific units were to be deployed. He could see the 92nd’s estimated drop zone, about 30 km south of the execution arena which the Jedi should have secured by now. The other unit of the 327th to take part in the battle, the 101st Regiment, was to be deployed adjacent to the arena. Hopefully the 92nd and 101st would celebrate their success by meeting in the middle, Bly mused.
After analyzing the upcoming battlefield some more, the details being effortlessly absorbed and retained by his genetically enhanced memory, Bly turned to one of his brother officers, Commander A’den, who was taking command of the 101st today. There was a friendly rivalry between these two regiments of the 327th, a rivalry sure to be enhanced by the looming battle.
“Well A’den, it looks like my lads received the tough assignment of climbing and fighting in the mountains while yours have got the easy duty of strolling through the valleys.” Bly didn’t often joke around, but he and A’den had known each other for years and their relationship was consequently relaxed by the experiences they had shared in training.
“Don’t let that get to your head, di’kut” the other commander replied easily. “We’ll see who—” A’den was cut off by the approach of a clone naval petty officer. The naval officer in his cloth tunic was dwarfed by the two commanders who both wore full armor, and particularly by Bly who was slightly taller than the other clones. Even though all clone troopers regarded each other as equals, certain genetically engineered distinctions differentiated the various troop categories.
“Sirs, I’ve received word from Commander Sinker aboard the Gallant. He said to inform you that one of the scout ships has reached the Geonosis system. They will begin relaying intelligence right away, sir.”
Bly checked the chrono. Only 19 minutes left. “Thank you, officer. Please keep us updated as more transmissions make their way through.” At this dismissal the naval officer returned to his post, and Bly turned to resume talking with A’den, but the other commander had stridden off already. Bly therefore returned his attention to the holotable. Over the next few minutes the images became clearer as the outdated image was gradually replaced with the fresh images from the scouting craft. Thanks to the quality of the orbital surveillance equipment, Bly could clearly make out the four Trade Federation Core Ships that were his objectives to destroy. Girded by the towering spires and craggy peaks of Geonosis’ surface, the enemy’s ships were located in an advantageous defensive position. Bly had always known that the 327th’s first mission would not be easy, but this invasion would be one hell of a battle. Regardless, he knew if anyone could pull off this mission, his boys could.
Amidst the blaring from the warning klaxons came the automated message, “Reverting to realspace in five, four, three, two, one”. Bly tore his gaze away from the holoimage and towards the transparisteel windows on the Dauntless’s bridge just in time to see the transition from hyperspace to realspace. He had seen it in simulations before, but those simulations paled in comparison to the real experience. He could tell the others were also fascinated by the abrupt transition from the tunnel of hyperspace to the white streaks of light, but not one brother was distracted from their duties. Too much was resting on their shoulders for them to be able to afford to admire the scenery, especially because as soon as the fleet was out of hyperspace, the comlinks were filled with the chatter of clones going through well-practiced maneuvers:
“Receiving incoming transmission from the Victory…”
“Stabilizing the main reactor”
“Sending out V-19 squadrons for reconnaissance”
“Preparing for descent to predesignated landing zone alpha – 4…”
Because the fleet was out of hyperspace, Bly could now use his helmet comlink to communicate with the clone commanders onboard the other ships. He jammed his helmet onto his head and with well-practiced eye movements opened a direct channel with Commander Sinker.
“Commander Sinker, any word from your scouts yet?” Bly inquired while simultaneously monitoring the Dauntless’s descent from orbit. He didn’t have to wait long for a response.
“Affirmative, Commander Bly. It looks like the Jedi have taken severe casualties in their rescue attempt. I’ve already sent a unit to reinforce the Jedi at the arena. Proceed with your pre-emptive attacks on the Geonosian hangars.”
“Copy that. Good hunting, Sinker,” Bly responded. Bly turned to the communications officer and gave him the word to begin launching the gunships. Speed and surprise were essential in these opening moments of the battle. Everything would depend on the LAAT/i’s and Acclamator’s ability to take advantage of their sudden arrival by destroying the Geonosian fighters before they could scramble.
Bly raced down to the hangar just in time board one of the last gunships of the 92nd. Amid the hustle and bustle on the hangar floor, he found himself being pulled aboard by Lieutenant Sharp of 2nd platoon, Alpha Company of the 2nd Battalion. Their gunship rapidly descended through the Dauntless’s ventral hangar and began its flight over the surface of Geonosis. Along with it was the whole complement of the Dauntless’s eighty LAAT/i’s and LAAT/c’s, the latter carrying AT-TE’s underneath their frame. With the gunship’s bay doors closed, the troop hold was dark, the only light coming from the door slits, through which the planet’s distinctive red surface could be glimpsed. The hold was cramped as well, but eerily silent except for the distant thunder of artillery and the drone of the engines. The thirty-six troopers of 2nd Platoon were silent, inwardly preparing themselves for their first real deployment; too caught up in the moment to even chat with their brothers.
Meanwhile, gunships in the vanguard had already begun their bombardments on the targets, using their twin missile launchers to lay waste to the hangars and infrastructure of the Geonosian hives. The smoking sites were further devastated by the turbolaser fire from the Acclamator assault ships. Bly, tracking the progress through the communications in his helmet, repressed a grim smile of satisfaction. The first objective was nearly complete, but the hardest work lay ahead.
As they neared the landing zone, Bly realized that he required a better handle on their tactical situation. Scanning the troop hold he found the platoon’s scouts. Beckoning them over to himself, Bly asked for their names.
“I’m Slingshot and he’s Bones, sir!” answered the trooper on the right, as both performed crisp salutes. Like all the other troopers on board the LAAT/i, Slingshot and Bones wore the standard white plastoid armor and were armed with the just as ubiquitous DC-15A blaster carbines; officers were the only clones to have distinctive armor. There were hardly any scuffs or marks on the armor yet—though Bly suspected that their armor would not remain pristine for much longer.
“At ease, troopers,” Bly responded, using his helmet’s comlinks so as not to have to shout over the noise of the engines and artillery. “I’m transferring to you two the coordinates for our landing zone. I want you two to scout the area north of the landing zone on the speeder bikes. Be on the look out for any hostiles, artillery, and unmarked passes through the mountains, but avoid any engagements unless absolutely necessary. Your priority is to gather intel on the fortifications at the far end of the canyon. I need as much up-to-date intelligence as I can get. Understood?”
The two men squared their soldiers “Yes sir!”
“Good luck, troopers.”
Bly ordered the pilot to lower the rear hatch, and the two scouts hopped onto the speeder bikes which were precariously arranged on the hatch. They made it look effortless as they detached their bikes from the gunship, when in reality they were performing a highly dangerous stunt hundreds of meters in the air. The bikes with their riders plummeted from the gunship as they sped off into the distance and rapidly disappeared from view whilst weaving through the craggy terrain.
Soon after the bikes were released, the gunships came under fire from the anti-aircraft defenses surrounding the docked core ships. Every man onboard grabbed a hold of the handrails as the pilot began performing evasive maneuvers to avoid the incoming flak. Being stuck in the cargo-bay Bly felt helpless at this moment, even though he realized that it was folly to let himself think that way. There was nothing else he could do but wait as patiently and as stolidly as the troopers around him.
Well, of course he could always perform one final and brief inspection of his kit. Like the others, his armor was spotless; a consequence of taking care of his equipment each night on Kamino before he slept. As befitting a commander—a Marshal Commander trained by ARC troopers, in fact—Bly’s armor and helmet were accented with yellow paint which distinguished him from the standard troopers. In a divergence from the standard weapons issue to clone officers, he was armed with the hefty DC-15 blaster rifle in addition to his sidearm, the DC-17 pistol. With his helmet on, Bly checked the status of the various armor systems through his HUD.
Reassured that his kit was in good shape, Bly once more focused his attention on Lieutenant Sharp’s platoon. Positioned as he was at the front of the troop bay, Bly could easily observe the platoon which now consisted of 34 troopers in addition to the officers. Outwardly, the troops seemed impassive. Because of their amor, an outsider might be fooled into thinking the clones were always stoic and imperturbable, but Bly knew better. Inwardly, the troopers there in front of him, and probably the entire GAR for that matter, were undergoing severe inner turmoil. He knew because he was experiencing the same feelings of nervousness and fear. His own stomach was already twisted into knots, his mouth was dry, and a muscle in his left leg was twitching involuntarily—all symptoms that, years before, back on Kamino he had come to associate with the waiting period before an engagement. He also knew that once combat began, these uncomfortable sensations would disappear. Through the comms, Bly heard Lieutenant Sharp briefing his platoon on their orders once they reached the surface.
“Attention troopers!” began Lieutenant Sharp. “Our initial objective is to destroy the shield generator which is protecting two Core ships—Objectives Alpha and Beta. Removing the shields will clear the way for the fleet to begin orbital bombardment of Alpha and Beta. This is our only chance of achieving our objective. Gunship and AT-TE fire will hardly scratch the armor of these ships. After meeting at the assembly point, we’ll set off through the hills which will mask our presence until we reach the defenses near the shield generator. The gunships will provide supporting fire for us.”
There was no need for Bly to give the orders in his place and thereby usurp Sharp’s command in front of his men. Bly stepped forward and nodded in acknowledgement to Sharp, “Thank you, Lieutenant.”
Facing the troops, Bly announced, “Gentlemen, the task facing you won’t be easy, but that’s why the 327th has been chosen for it. We couldn’t let those slackers from the 41st mess the job up.” At that unexpected jibe from their commander, the troopers started bantering. Naturally, there were plenty of friendly rivalries amongst the GAR, with each faction believing themselves to be the premier unit in the entire army.
Pleased that his jest had gone over well, Bly turned his attention back to the matter at hand. It had been difficult for Bly and the other commanders to formulate a satisfactory assault plan considering the rapidness of the expedition and the lack of intelligence. From Jedi Knight Obi-Wan-Kenobi’s report before his capture, the GAR command knew about the numerous droid foundries and Trade Federation Core Ships on Geonosis. However, the planet’s remote location and lack of contact with the Republic meant that current intel on geography and military assets was obsolete at best and absent at worst. That was why Bly had been so intent on the intel that had been transmitted to the Republic Fleet as they were approaching Geonosis. Accurate intel on the strength and dispositions of the droid armies on Geonosis would turn out be a key factor in the outcome of the battle. It was also why Bly had sent Slingshot and Bones out to scout the enemy positions. Their speed and mobility would extend Bly’s eyes and ears and provide him with real-time intel—that precious commodity with which a commander could never have enough of.
Because the anti-aircraft artillery was still pounding away the gunship’s bay doors were kept closed. The incessant thunder of the artillery and the jerky motion of the LAAT/i as it performed evasive maneuvers contributed to an extremely disorienting environment inside the gunship. However, Bly was able to coolly survey the situation inside the confines of his helmet. His communications feed was cluttered with reports from other units, but Bly didn’t have time to give them more than a cursory glance. The landing zone for the 92nd was only ten kilometers away, and it would not take much more than a minute to reach it at the speed the LAAT/is were flying.
The landing zone was situated on the top of a rocky mesa several kilometers away from the nearest Trade Federation Core ship, known today as objective Beta. The mesa provided an adequate staging ground which would be necessary for the simultaneous landing and organization of thousands of soldiers and their equipment. The site’s main advantage, however, was its elevation. If their assault went awry, then at least Bly knew he had a strong position he and the 92nd could fall back upon.
The readings in his HUD now alerted Bly that he was within two kilometers of the landing zone. The bay doors slid open and the troop hold was suddenly illuminated by the eerie amber light of Geonosis. Bly’s helmet automatically adjusted for the intense glare which allowed him to see far off into the distance. To both the east and west, Bly could see intense pockets of flashing light and tall plumes of smoke indicating that other GAR units had already engaged the enemy. Above, Acclamators were cruising sedately while gunships and other craft were swarming about rapidly, their bright green beam weapons piercing through the dense dust.
While observing the battles around him, he opened up a new channel, this time with the four battalion commanders of the 92nd: Majors Jec, Sefit, and Birr and Commander Crusher. “Gentlemen, I am now arriving at the assembly point—”
“Took you long enough, Bly. We were just about to get started without you!” interjected Major Jec. Bly didn’t bother responding to Jec, who he knew was simply trying to get a rise out of himself, and continued,
“Meet me when I land. We need to get moving soon. Tell your captains to prepare their companies for action. Bly out.” He heard the four acknowledge the orders and watched as his gunship reached the assembly area. Arrayed below him were several thousand clone troopers, organized into their companies and battalions along with their equipment and a couple dozen LAAT/is. When Bly’s gunship finally touched down he leapt down onto the dusty, rocky surface. The impact caused a small plume of dust to rise. Bly sighed inwardly, already imagining the nuisance that the dust would cause, not to mention how much effort would be needed to remove it from his kit.
Behind him, he could hear Sharp’s men making their way towards Alpha Company. Bly strode off in the opposite direction towards a group of clones standing apart, distinguished from the rest by the colored markings on their arms and helmets. Commander Crusher was the easiest to spot, both from his yellow markings (indicating that he was a commander) and because he was standing apart from the others, scanning the horizon with a set of macrobinoculars. The other three all had red markings. One’s identity was obvious—Jec—because he was waving his hands around and because he had his helmet clipped to his belt. Jec always took his helmet off at the slightest opportunity, supposedly because it was uncomfortable with his long hair, though Bly privately believed it was just an excuse to show off his hair; for Jec was the vainest brother Bly had. Bly also identified Sefit by the raised rangefinder and his characteristic stance—arms folded and chin on chest, as though deep in thought (or asleep). To their side stood Major Birr.
As Bly neared the group, they turned to acknowledge him with salutes. This was not a time to waste with pleasantries, so Bly got right to the point, demanding,
“Are your battalions ready?”
“Of course, Sir,” responded Sefit, an easy grin on his face. “The 2nd Battalion is ready and eager for a scrap.” The other officers offered similar reports.
“Very well. I’m awaiting reports from several scouts I’ve sent ahead. They should be examining the enemies’ defenses near the shield generator. In the meantime, we’ll begin our movements. Crusher, I want the Light Infantry Battalion to lead the advance along the northern cliffs. I will join Sefit and the 2nd Battalion along the southern cliffs. Jec, take your battalion and follow Crusher’s. I want you to support them when necessary and be prepared to detach some reinforcements to assist Sefit and I. Birr, you’ll keep your battalion in reserve at the assembly point. I’ll need you to coordinate air support and guard the assembly area. Remember,” —Bly added quickly so that Birr could not protest at being left behind— “we’re operating behind enemy lines. If our line of retreat gets cut off, then we’re done for.” Bly could see that this last point had convinced Birr, even though he was still sullen about the supporting role he was given.
“Once we reach the fortifications, Crusher and Jec will occupy the enemy while Sefit’s Battalion and I infiltrate the shield generator. I’ll send you a scanned map of the terrain which you should share with your men. We’ll have to be flexible though, especially as we receive more accurate intel.”
“Understood, Bly,” replied Sefit, cool as ever. Next to him, Jec nodded and grinned widely,
“You got it, Sir!”
Bly started to walk off, needing to talk to the pilots, before turning around and declaring,
“And for Force sake, Jec, keep your bucket on or else I’ll shave your head myself!” He didn’t wait long enough to see Jec gulp and his smile waver.
Geonosis was unlike any environment Bly had ever experienced. During the rigorous training Bly had received on Kamino, he had been subjected to simulations of every imaginable climate, but the simulations paled to the real thing. Nothing could prepare him for the planet’s eerie splendor, nor the pervasive dust and dirt, nor the blinding glare of Geonosis’s sun. Bly could not help but compare Geonosis and Kamino in the back of his mind; it was hard to imagine two more diametrically opposite planets.
Bly, who was at the front of the column, took a quick glance behind himself to check on his troops. The men of the 2nd Battalion (Major Sefit’s command) were marching along steadily under the shadow of the southern cliffs and moving at a quick pace. They were nearing the end of the march and were within a kilometer of the defensive structures. Venturing much further without knowing the status of the defenses would be a foolhardy move. If they were fully manned, then he would be leading his men into certain death. Bly was hoping that the massive frontal assault which Commander A’den and the 101st were participating in would draw some of the Geonosian and droid defenders away from the southeastern fortifications.
Bly slowed his pace and spoke into his comlink, ordering Crusher, Jec, and Sefit to halt their men. Within moments, the column of quick-marching troops fell in. Across the canyon, Bly could see that the two other battalions had come to a stop just as quickly. Whereas before all Bly could here was the steady beat of boots on solid ground, now the space around him was rather quiet. In the distance, he still could hear the sounds of battle raging—blasters firing, shells exploding, and LAAT/is screaming overhead—but now he could hear the wind as it sped through the canyon along with his own breathing, slightly elevated by the several-kilometer jog.
It was now time to check in on the pair of scouts he had sent out earlier. Bly flipped through various comlink frequencies before finding Slingshot’s.
“Slingshot, this is Commander Bly. Do you copy?” It was not long before Bly heard the telltale static and the scout’s response,
“Here, sir. Bones is with me too.”
“Make your report troopers. What’s the status of the fortifications?” Bly inquired, unable to resist clenching his fist in anticipation of the news. He immediately reprimanded himself, knowing that his men were looking at him, and that they would be able to pick up on any sign of nervousness—years of living and training entirely in armor made clones quite skillful when it came to reading body language. He needed to be strong for them.
“We were unable to obtain a close recce, sir, but we did see a large detachment of droids leave the fort and head east.” At this news, Bly let out a breath he did not know he had been holding and asked Slingshot to continue with his report.
“Well done, soldier. What weapons do the defenders have, and where are they sited?”
“We counted two dozen embrasures large enough for heavy artillery. These were generally placed some twenty meters up. There were a number of smaller loopholes for small arms, and these were closer to the ground, but we were unable to count them. There is an AAA battery on the roof as well. Overall, we estimate that the garrison must be close to two thousand, fully manned, but about half that strength currently.”
“Thank you, Slingshot.” Bly absorbed the information; it was reassuring to hear that at least some of the garrison had been sent away as reinforcements elsewhere, but he still had no real knowledge of how well defended the defenses remained. Bly now gave new orders to the pair of scouts, “I want you and Bones to join Commander Crusher and use your knowledge to assist him in his assault on the fort. I’ll send his coordinates to you.” While Bly was sending Slingshot the data, he also spoke with Crusher and Jec,
“I’m sending you two scouts who were able to perform some reconnaissance of the fortifications.” Bly went on to inform the two of the details he had learned and concluded that, “we have no choice but to proceed with the agreed upon plan. Remember that you don’t actually have to capture the fort, but make your efforts seem convincing. I would suggest that you make a feint towards the north, which would further draw their attention away from Sefit and I.”
“Thank you, sir,” responded Crusher. “We’ll keep those droids busy for you. You can rely on us.”
“Do we get a prize if we actually do capture the fort, sir?” That was Jec, of course. Bly did not have a ready response but thankfully Crusher was there for him.
“Di’kut, we don’t get prizes for doing our job. We’re in the army!” Bly could hear the exasperation in the commander’s voice. Bly disconnected from the two before he could hear them devolve into more bickering.
The 2nd Battalion had advanced further along the canyon, apparently without attracting the notice of the defenders, for they had not yet been attacked. Neither could Bly spot any movement when he observed the fortress through his macrobinoculars. Every meter closer that his men got before being detected meant fewer casualties.
Situated as they were at the bottom of the canyon, the fortress loomed over Bly. Instead of building a traditional fortress, the Geonosians merely had to transform the already formidable rock formations into a defensible structure. The central spire rose well over a hundred meters high and around its base was a mass of solid rock, which had presumably been hollowed out in order to hold its artillery and garrison.
Bly and his men had to scale the canyon walls in order to reach the shield generator, but fortune had smiled on them. Major Sefit had spotted a tiny, hidden path which would allow the men to reach the top without having to climb up a sheer cliff face. While the men began making their way up, Bly commed Crusher. He needed the diversion to begin before his men reached the top.
“Crusher, it’s time to begin your assault. Are you ready?”
“We’re ready. We have a wing of gunships on standby.”
“Good, begin your diversion!” It wasn’t long before Bly could hear the distinctive sound of a gunship’s engines. Without any other warning a wing of LAAT/is swept through the sky, flying close enough to the ground to kick up a trail of dust which would have blinded Bly if not for his helmet. The impact of their high-explosive missiles on the fortress walls shook the ground even several hundred meters away and caused a small avalanche of rocks and debris around Bly, coating his armor in a layer of dust.
One of the soldiers near him exclaimed, “The cavalry’s arrived!”
Close behind the gunships were two of their larger cousins, the LAAT/cs, each carrying an AT-TE underneath. Once deployed, the walkers began firing their artillery and in the distance Bly could make out the fire of small arms, indicating that Crusher and Jec’s battalions had begun their assault. As Bly struggled up the steep path, he watched the fortifications. There were several breaches in the walls where the missiles had impacted, and beneath the breaches were piles of rubble. Heavy streams of blaster fire were leaving the fort, indicating that its defenders had finally awoken to the danger in front of them, but these were all directed away from Sefit’s battalion. The diversion was working!
Bly soon reached the top of the cliffs, where Major Sefit and a company of clones were waiting. Ahead of them, about 400 meters away was the shield generator. Off to the right, was Objective Alpha, a Trade Federation Core ship. This massive craft, which, even half-submerged in the ground, stood over 500 meters tall, dwarfed Bly and his men. Behind the shield generator was Objective Beta, another Core ship, but this one sat in the bottom of another canyon. But Bly had no time to spare for taking the view in. He had to give rapid orders to Sefit and the battalion’s captains. The troops which were quickly spilling over onto the plateau were being assigned individual objectives and assignments.
These proceedings were then interrupted by the sound of blasterfire. Bly turned around just in time to see one of the men of Delta Company fall to the ground, struck in the chest by a bolt. Everyone leapt behind cover. The shield generator, in addition to the fortress, had its own defenses. Bly could see droids manning a series of trenches, laying down a sheet of fire. The terrain adjacent to the cliff face was rocky enough to protect the men currently on the plateau, but the ground beyond was almost perfectly flat, totally devoid of cover. Bly sensed that this was the pivotal moment of the battle. His men were in a perilous situation—only a quarter of his men were on top, the rest were still making their way up the path. If the enemy bottlenecked them here, they could then easily cut down his men while they had no chance of fighting back. The only option, it seemed, was to make a decisive attack.
Bly, crouching behind a rock, shouted his orders, “Sefit, request an artillery strike from the AT-TEs or, if possible, gunships on the enemy trenches. Captain Graham, you will lead your company on an assault after the bombardment. I want your marksmen here, laying down covering fire for us when we charge. Get moving!”
Knowing that carrying the big and heavy DC-15 blaster rifle would be awkward during the assault, Bly approached a group of nearby troopers, and handed one of them his rifle, saying, “Mind this for me trooper. I expect to see you after the battle, and with my blaster here without a scratch.” Bly did not care at all about that specific blaster—he had randomly picked the blaster off a rack—but giving the trooper an additional, trivial goal might keep his mind off the impending assault.
Their little foothold on the edge of the plateau was a hive of furious activity as officers shouted commands and troops prepared themselves for their baptism of fire. Every second more and more troops were joining those already on top of the cliff. Heavy gunners were siting their cannons and marksmen finding cover to fire from. As these preparations were taking place, Bly stood out from the cover, and started to pace in front of the men, unworried by the flurry of blaster bolts. Once the orders were given, there was not much for a commander to do until the fighting began except to inspire confidence in his men.
Captain Graham ran up to Bly, exclaiming “Artillery strike incoming!”, the intensity of the moment making him shout even though they stood right next to each other. It was now or never. Even as Bly turned to face his men, he could hear the whine of the approaching gunships drone out all other sounds.
“Let’s go men! Oya!” Unholstering his DC-17 pistol, Bly sprinted towards the trenches which were filled with droids. Alongside him were the men from Delta Company and some others, all straining to be the first to reach their objective.
A few meters away, a blue-striped Lieutenant let loose a bloodcurdling cry of “Chaaaarge!”. The gunships passed close overhead; their bright green beam weapons and pivoting blaster cannons laying waste to the shield generator’s defenses.
The bombardment threw so much smoke, dust, and debris into the air that Bly was forced to change the view of his visor to thermal imaging so that he could see through the haze. Whereas before, Bly could not make out any details through the thick dust, he could now see individual droids from the heat signatures of their weapons and exposed circuitry. As he continued running, it seemed as though the remaining droids were unable to see as clearly, for their return fire was high and inaccurate. Even so, some members of Delta Company were hit by the spray of blaster fire.
Only fifty meters to go, thought Bly. His chest was heaving after the several hundred-meter sprint. As he and his men neared the trenches, many began to open fire, some dropping prone while others fired as they ran. Others still lobbed thermal detonators and EMP grenades into the first trench. Bly held his fire until he vaulted down into the trench. On his immediate left were two battle droids which he dispatched quickly with two blasts to the chest. The close proximity of the droids meant that when Bly shot them their shrapnel scored his armor. But there were still dozens of droids in the trench. The din of combat was deafening. Bly could not help but hear the piercing cries and groans of the wounded which contrasted sharply with the fierce yells of those still fighting. The combat was frantic as Bly and the members of Delta Company cleared out the trench with whatever means available. Bly’s pistol was suitable for the close confines of the trench, while those with unwieldy weapons used them to batter their enemies. Bly saw a sergeant with green accents on his armor swing his DC-15 down hard enough onto the head of a battle droid that the rifle’s stock lodged into the chest cavity. The sergeant let go of his stuck blaster and picked up the droid’s weapon instead.
In a matter of seconds—seconds which seemed like a lifetime to Bly—he and his men managed to gain control of the first trench. Droid bits were littered on the ground of the trench, but Bly payed no heed to the remains of his erstwhile enemies. More concerning was the dozen or so white, armor-clad bodies also laying on the ground. Already the medics were hurrying to treat the casualties, but Bly did not have time to worry about the wounded and killed at the moment. It was now of paramount importance to coordinate the next assault and keep the momentum of the attack going before the droids could call for reinforcements or mount a counterattack.
After comming Captain Kol of Alpha company and requesting him to bring Alpha and Gamma companies forward, Bly had a few seconds to control his breathing and gather his senses. Peaking his head just over the top of the trench and taking care to limit his exposure to the droids, Bly could see two more trenches between him and the shield generator. However, these next two trenches would be much easier to conquer thanks to the communication trenches which ran perpendicular to the main trenches and connected them.
Bly spent the next few minutes coordinating this next and final assault with his officers. Now that Alpha and Gamma companies had arrived, Bly had enough men to perform one continuous, overwhelming assault on the shield generator. Captain Kol would lead his company in a flanking maneuver while Captain Graham’s company would pour directly through the communication trenches. Behind them would be Captain Sabre and Gamma company, who were given the task of destroying the shield generator. Meanwhile Bly would remain here in the trench where he could coordinate this assault and remain in contact with the other two battalions of the 92nd Regiment.
Bly watched as the assault was carried out. The droids were no match for his troops. The clone troopers sliced through the defenses and it was not long before the demolition team were called up to plant the charges in the shield generator. In the meantime, he commed Commander Crusher to see how their diversion was progressing.
“Crusher, this is Bly. What is the status of your assault?”
“Sir, we’ve encountered stiff resistance. Casualties are slightly higher than expected. We’re now making satisfactory progress—” A loud explosion cut himoff, and through the comlink Bly heard the sound of blasterfire. “—much more time do you need?”
“We’ve just started to plant the charges,” Bly responded. “Probably 20 more minutes until—” Now it was Bly’s term to be interrupted as a trooper came running up to him, exclaiming,
“Sir, there are enemy reinforcements approaching from Objective Alpha!”
Bly immediately turned in that direction to see for himself. The sight was not pleasant. A large cloud of dust rose above the ground about a kilometer away to the Southeast. It was too far away to determine the numbers accurately, but its size suggested a large detachment of battle droids. The one comforting factor was that at least Bly and his men were in a defensible position. The trenches, as rudimentary as they were, gave his men a fighting chance. As Bly rushed to gather his men for the defense, he responded to Crusher who had been making inquiries as to why Bly had stopped talking.
“Sorry Crusher, we’ve got some company of our own. Do your best to keep those droids distracted!” There was now no time for thinking, as the droids were quickly approaching. This was the situation where the instincts born from years of constant training kicked in. The men who had just minutes before been assaulting the shield generator now gathered themselves to defend their newly acquired territory. They had to fend off the reinforcements to give the detonation crew enough time to set the charges. As his men lined the parapet on the outer-most trench, Bly joined them, leaning down to grab a discarded DC-15 rifle. He positioned himself next to one of the droid’s former rapid-firing cannons, which the clones were now using against its original owners.
Bly grabbed his macrobinoculars and lifted them to his visor. Peering through the viewfinder, he could make out more clearly just exactly what he and his troops were up against. The column consisted of B1 battle droids and was flanked by Super Battle Droids and even a few Dwarf Spider Droids. Bly rapidly estimated the number to be well over one thousand droids altogether. They were just over 600 meters away, well within range of the DC-15 blaster.
Under the direction of their officers, many men had opened fire already and Bly managed to see the first line of droids falter under the incoming fire before he set down the ‘binocs and hefted the DC-15 and joined in. Bly and his men delivered a withering fire in the direction of the droids, but nevertheless the great column continued to advance. The singlemindedness of the droids’ programming meant that they stepped over the carcasses of the destroyed droids without pause, relentless in their approach. Bly continued to fire away in short bursts. The DC-15 was a powerful weapon and required a disciplined fire control in order to remain accurate at long range. Next to him, the repeated firing of the cannon was deafening and threw up a small cloud of dust. The bright blue muzzle flash of the Deeces reflected off the dust, contrasting with the reddish dirt and yellow sky.
The droids still kept coming on, and now were returning fire, but the standard battle droid’s blaster was rather ineffective at long range. More worrying were the cannons of the spider droids. Bly saw one spider droid blown up by the impact of a rocket, but the next moment Bly felt a heavy weight fall on his side and registered that the sound of the cannon had just seized. The trooper manning the rapid-fire cannon had been shot through the helmet and collapsed onto Bly, covering his armor with blood. Bly quickly checked for a pulse, and unable to find one, lowered the body to the ground before stepping up to man the cannon. Finding the trigger, Bly squeezed his finger, aiming an experimental burst at the droids which were very, very close now. Organic enemies would probably have retreated at this point, having lost over half of their forces, but the droids felt no fear. This was no time for half-measures, so Bly grit his teeth and let loose a long volley from the cannon. The cannon jumped in his hands, and it required all the strength in his arms and wrists to keep the cannon under control. Bly continued to fire, his fingers aching and ears throbbing, focusing on taking out the spider droids and SBDs—the two more lethal enemies. The droids’ front ranks were close enough for Bly to make out the red photoreceptor of the SBDs. As the droids continued to advance, more and more troopers fell victim to enemy fire, though this only caused those still standing to fight with more desperation.
“Hold fast, men!” Bly barked out. “When I give the command, fall back to the secondary line!”
Then all hell broke loose. The droids had finally reached the first trench, though the trail of metal scraps that they left behind was a testament to the ferocity of the clones’ defense. Bly abandoned the cannon and drew his pistol once again. There were droids in every direction he looked. He opened fire on the droids trying to climb down into the trench, each squeeze of the trigger dispatching a droid. The air was once again filled with dirt and smoke which only seemed to make the atmosphere more chaotic.
The fight raged for minutes. The droids kept coming and Bly felt the exhaustion creep in. His breathe exhaled in ragged gasps and his throat was dry, not just due to thirst and the amount of dirt that had made its way through his helmet’s filters, but with fear as well. It was not just the fear of dying, for Bly’s training had already allowed him to become closely acquainted with that feeling. It was the fear of failure. Their defense had to hold, because the mission was resting on them knocking out the shield generator. The alternative was unthinkable, unfathomable. As Bly continued to fight off the droids which were all around them, he used this fear to find a second wind. He was determined. He would not fail; his men would not pay the price for his failure either.
His thoughts whirled rapidly. They needed a way to hold the droids off, to keep them from storming through the wide-open communication trench just as the clones had done not long before. As he stepped over the scrap heap of droids that he had shot down around him, the idea struck him.
“Troopers,” Bly shouted. “Pick up a droid corpse! We’ll use them to barricade the trench and cover our retreat! Now fall back to the second line!” Bly did not wait to see how his troopers would react to the unusual orders, but immediately leaned down to heave the mangled carriage of an SBD up. He carried the droid’s carcass with his left hand, using it as a shield of sorts, while continuing to fire his pistol with his right hand. Bly acted as a rearguard for his men, backpedaling along the communication trench while picking off any droids that followed them. While retreating through the narrow trench, he could feel the impact of several blaster bolts against the SBD he was holding. He ducked his head, and then the next moment he felt the searing pain of a blaster bolt glancing off his chest armor before another bolt hit his thigh square on. His leg gave way, and he would surely have collapsed if one of his troops had not grasped him from behind and guided him back.
“Steady there, sir,” a voice from just behind reassured. “We’re almost there.” Bly and his savior finally made their way to the second trench, and the instant that they did a group of troopers ran out in front of him, each carrying two droid carcasses, one under each arm. The pile quickly became a substantial barrier in the narrow communication trench and was soon reinforced to be at least a meter thick. Bly looked on in satisfaction and turned to thank the trooper who had saved him. It was Captain Kol, his armor accented with dark maroon stripes.
“My thanks, Kol,” Bly stated, reaching out to grasp the captain’s hand in gratitude. “Now we need to cover the other entrances to the trench too.”
“Already taken care of, Bly,” responded Kol, who pointed off to the right to indicate where the other communication trench had been barricaded as well.
Bly heaved a sigh of relief, “Good man. We’ve gained a brief respite, as it doesn’t seem like those droids can climb well.” Bly was right. The battle droid’s simple carriage was sufficient enough for maneuvering on flat terrain, but it wasn’t made for climbing the sheer, two meter tall faces of the trench, or even navigating the crude barricade made of droid scraps. Bly’s trick had bought them a few minutes at least, ample time for their small force to gather themselves and prepare for the further fighting that lay ahead.
Bly limped heavily down the trench, checking the chrono. Captain Sabre and his demolition team should be close to done by now, provided that they had not run into trouble. Bly was about to give Sabre a call before he was halted by a firm hand on his breastplate.
“Now sir, where do you think you’re going with a leg like that,” inquired one of the 2nd Battalion’s medics, Ash. “I’ll be needing to take a close look at that.” Bly sighed inwardly, knowing the stubbornness of the medics. Well, medics were not the only stubborn ones in the GAR. Bly wasn’t a Marshal Commander for no reason.
“There’s no time for that now,” Bly responded, shrugging Ash’s hand off. “I’ll let you fuss over me later, Ash.” Bly limped off, but Ash was easily able to keep up with Bly.
“Sir, I must protest! You can hardly walk. In fact—” Ash’s restrained but fierce tirade was cut short by the beeping of Bly’s wrist comlink, indicating that someone was trying to contact him. Bly fixed ash with a triumphant stare, which hopefully was conveyed through the helmet, and reached down to answer the call.
“Bly here.” He continued to limp his way down the trench, now using a DC-15 rifle as a crutch. Ash continued to trail him, silently.
“This is Captain Sabre, sir. We’ve planted the charges and are evacuating the complex as we speak.”
“Well done. Did you encounter any trouble?”
“There were a few bugs down there; nothing we couldn’t handle, though.” They continued to talk, planning their next steps. The shield generator had been buried deep below the surface of the plateau, which meant that they’d be protected from the blast of the explosives.
The fighting, though now at a lull, had yet to cease, but Bly could not worry about that at the moment. He was too busy coordinating the evac with Major Birr and the orbital strike with the Dauntless. Once they destroyed the shield generator, the timing would have to be impeccable. The wing of gunships would come to ferry the 2nd Battalion back to their base, but the orbital strike would have to be performed soon after, else the Core Ships escape. In preparation for their evac, the wounded were being gathered in the third line of trenches, where they would be the first to be put on board the gunships.
It wasn’t long before all the preparations had been made, now it was time to execute. One of Captain Sabre’s men was giving the countdown to the detonation. “Five, four, three, two, one—” The ground shook violently and catapulted a layer of reddish-orange dirt into the sky but protected as they were by a few score meters of solid rock and dirt, the explosion was harmless for the clones. As the dust started to clear, the explosion’s effect became obvious. Whereas before there stood a low building which was the entrance to the shield generator, now there was merely a hole in the ground. Their mission was a success! A few troopers let out excited whoops, but most were either too exhausted or busying dealing with the remnants of the droids to show their excitement.
The droids did not remain a threat for much longer, for over the sound of battle, near and far, came the distinctive rumble and whine of the LAAT/i’s engines. A flight of gunships came hurtling low over the ground, kicking up a trail of dust behind them. As they approached, they wiped out the last remaining droids which were assaulting Bly’s position. Next to him, Captain Kol issued orders for some troops to go back to the first trench line and retrieve all of the wounded left behind. No man would ever be left behind, certainly not if Bly and his officers had any say in it.
Bly supervised the evac, making sure that all the wounded troops were safely put on board. Satisfied, Bly climbed inelegantly onto one of the last gunships, grateful for the helpful hand of one of the troopers already onboard. As the gunship ascended, Bly spoke through his comlink, addressing the Dauntless’s captain,
“The shield generator is down. Repeat, shield generator is down. Proceed with orbital bombardment of Objectives Alpha and Beta.”
“Affirmative. Let us know how the show looks from down there!”
Bly was too tired to offer more than a rote “copy” in response. Now that they were in a position of relative safety, Bly could feel the exhaustion flood his body. His wrist and fingers ached from the incessant shooting earlier. That was the least of his worries, though. The shot which had grazed his torso had been mostly deflected by his armor, though it still made movement painful, if bearable. The leg wound was more worrying, and as his adrenaline wore off, became more agonizing. Bly’s musing was interrupted by a bright flash of green light. The LAAT/i’s bay doors were open, which meant that as they were flying back to the landing zone, Bly and the others could see the orbital bombardment in all its glory. The Geonosian sky around the Core Ships was filled so thickly with turbolaser fire that it almost appeared to be raining green bolts of energy. Without the shields, the Core Ships’s armor stood no chance against the barrage of turbolaser blasts. As the LAAT/i flew further and further away, Bly could only make out the columns of smoke rising from the Core Ship. At last, it had received more punishment than it could handle, and the ship collapsed in on itself. The exuberant troopers onboard celebrated by embracing each other and shouting with joy. Bly satisfied himself with the pride that came from a job well done. There was still work to be done.