Hmm. I have an odd relationship with techniques in general. Tutaminis—the ability to absorb energy and, pompously, catch a lightsaber with your bare hands—didn't work for me even during my Youngling training. On the other hand, I mastered the Force Jump, the technique responsible for all those acrobatic Jedi somersaults and leaping maneuvers. Force forging was again not possible, but meditation of any kind went very well. I have some kind of one-sided development—creative techniques often fail for me, while destructiveones work... Okay, enough moping—there aren't that many of these techniques that I knowanyway.
So, Battle Meditation. What do I know about it? When used in battle, a gifted practitioner could raise the morale and combat effectiveness of their soldiers while sowing uncertainty in the enemyand suppressing their will to fight. That makes sense for organics—but how do you instill doubt in a droid? Looks like we're unlucky on that account. Still, onward.
The technique was most effective in large-scale space battles, though it was also indispensable in smaller engagements, like clashes betweenground forces. Using Battle Meditation, the gifted individual would immerse themselves in the Force, greatly expanding their perception. In that state they could sense every participant in the fight—their feelings, maneuvers, every detail of the battle—and had the ability to influence those perceptions, turning the tide in their favor.
Fighters led by someone practicing Battle Meditation felt complete confidence in their abilities and in victory. The Force that came to their aid gave them an incredible surge of energy, and the warriors began to fight with purpose and determination. They acted in complete harmony, greatly increasing their effectiveness and hastening the battle's end.
Typically, Battle Meditation worked in twodirections simultaneously. While allied forces were continually fueled by fighting spirit, enemy forces were affected in the opposite way. By sowing fear, panic, and chaos among the ranks, it was possible to break them—dominate their minds, implant terrible images and illusions, and force them into repeated errors. In confusion, the enemy could neither mount a strong defense nor execute an orderly retreat, leaving them open to crushing blows from ships and soldiers—or simply driving them to surrender.
To use Battle Meditation, the practitioner had to completely clear their mind completely and find inner peace in order to draw on the Force to fuel the combatants. It was also desirable to avoid irritating stimuli. The canonical example would be the meditation sphere Vader used. Siths are generally idealists when it comes to comfort, and they learned to use the technique as well as the Jedi—though they usually drew their power from the Dark Side and focused more on instilling fear and terror in their opponents. That, however, is not our method.
Well, let's give it a try. Waiting and catching up are two very unpleasant activities; if it doesn't work, at least I'll pass the time.
I slipped into it as usual... Call it subconsciousness or something else—it doesn't really matter. Meditation is like that. Although something nagged me this time, I managed to focus and began to drift away. Clear your mind... No emotions... Find balance... Force... Learn... No emotions... See clearly... Force... See.
I don't know how long I remained like that, but soon I felt like I woke up. Or did I? A strange sensation—sitting here in headquarters and everywhere at once. I felt each of my troopers, and the vague threat that had been bothering me became more tangible. I could almost see it—not the future, no, only hazy images—but even that was impressive; the sensations were like those in fencing when you anticipate an opponent's strike, their motion. At the same time, it was not like meditation—usually I would immerse myself in my inner world, but this time it was the opposite—my consciousness seemed to leave my body, encompassing all space, forcing me to embrace literally the entire universe, while at the same time the feeling of being a tiny speck of dust in a vast world remained.
However, all of it lasted only a moment, after which a wild headache rolled through me, tearing my skull apart. It's always like this. Useful and nice, but why torch your brain? Like, a thick hint—think for yourself?!
It took me a few minutes to recover. Finally, shaking my head, I refocused on the coming battle and tried to piece together what I had seen. To do that I had to look at the hologram plan. Not with my eyes—they were closed—but with a kind of inner vision. Sensations, vague images from memory...
"Lieutenant. Display the landing sites of the CIS troops from the first battle for Donovia, and the landing site of the recent assault."
Li Noriega moved to comply at once. Although my eyes were closed, I perceived everything as clearly as if I could see. Four red circles sat equidistant from the base at fifteen kilometers, in four mountain valleys, at the intersection of which our base was located. Two of them almost merged, forming a six-kilometer zone more than four kilometers across. The other two were narrower—one led to the plain, the other deep into the mountain range, ending in a dead end. In short, our base blocked one of the land routes between the plains separated by mountain passes. The former CIS outpost, which we destroyed at the outset, sat slightly lower but also controlled this route. That is how cunning merchants once controlled the meager flow of goods that circulated between native settlements.
"Sumeragi, mark these points on the map—they're the most likely landing zones for CIS troops."
"How do you know, General? Maybe the droids will land a little closer or a little further?" Sumeragi asked.
"Out of the question. Tactical droids are quite effective, but their main weakness is a lack of emotions and an inability to understand them. They can't calculate actions that contradict cold logic. Returning to our problem—If a landing site was effective before, the droids will most likely use it again, since there is simply no reason for them not to, according to their programming."
"Master —" Ahsoka's voice cut into the discussion. "If we know where they'll land, why not give them a little surprise?"
"Good point," I said, opening my eyes and returning from the meditative state. "The enemy likely knows our defense layout, including anti-ship weapons. If they won't come to us, then we'll go to them." I rose and moved to the table. "Marshal Blam. We can position here," I said, pointing to one of the map points. "And here—one J-1 with ammunition. These positions give excellent fields of fire on the landing zones."
"We'll be ready in time. We'll use the Nu-class attack shuttle. What about the gunners?" Blam asked.
"Select four volunteers—two fighters per cannon. Provide transport for their departure... and, perhaps, a company of B-1s as security."
"Yes, General."
The second lieutenant typed rapidly; markers popped up on the map showing our captured weapons. Was she already calculating firing sectors? She was fast to get her bearings.
"Lieutenant, try using data from previous landings to model likely enemy actions..." I instructed.
"Already on it, General."
Shifting my gaze to the other points, I asked Blam, "Do we have mines?"
"No," he replied. "But we can deploy some charges from the proton cannons with remote detonation—the cannons don't need full ammunition loads anyway. The scouts will manage..."
I understood his implication: the gunners on those cannons, placed directly in the enemy landing zone, would effectively be suicide teams. Does the end justify the means? Hutt...
Meanwhile, Blam signaled one of the clones, said something to him, handed him a datapad, and the clone trotted out of headquarters. Probably to carry out the order. Quickly.