rushed into the cabin and threw my helmet onto the bunk. Tearing off my holster, which followed the helmet, I slipped into the command center. Switching on the map on the tactical table, I tried to think through my next steps. The routine helped me calm down.
Shit, shit, shit! The situation is going straight to hell, and there's nothing I can do about it. Really, what can I do?
Well, sure—I could panic, shout "we're all going to die," and so on. But who would actually believe me?
Obi-Wan Kenobi? Ever since I saw the first movie—the fourth one—I never understood what truly drove that man. Years later, after I watched the new movies, read the books, and then the animated series… my doubts only grew stronger. Kenobi… is a very complex man, with his own quirks. The fact that his Master was Qui-Gon Jinn, an extremely unconventional Jedi, left a heavy imprint. In many ways, Kenobi followed the tenets of the Jedi Code—sometimes even blindly. And yet, he also had his own opinions on issues that didn't contradict the Code. Of course, he got carried away at times: his romance with Siri Tachi, his romance with Satine Kryze… but in the end, things always returned to normal. Overall, he was an ambiguous figure, and his appointment as a Master probably only strengthened his confidence in the correctness of his actions and deeds. Now he's carrying out his first assignment as a member of the Jedi Council, and he has clearly dug his heels in. He was almost always—no, what am I saying—he was always lucky. He carried out missions with Qui-Gon and with Anakin, and all of them were successful to one degree or another. Based on that, he might listen to what I have to say, but he would hardly take any action—for that would have contradicted his actions. And the Code—which he followed.
Skywalker? He's also unique in his own way. A self-confident "youngster" for whom even Kenobi isn't quite an authority. Palpatine's favorite, damn it… the Chosen One. He nods along to strange tales and then forgets them. Why would he care about some random Knight when he easily ignores the Council's orders? Or rather—he will ignore them, but that's not the point.
Leska? That chick clearly doesn't like me for some reason. Although why—only she knows. Jedi are supposed to be "brothers." Or "sisters," whatever. Though, to be fair, I didn't really like her either. Natural incompatibility, no doubt…
Norcuna? A completely unknown Twi'lek to me—we've never even crossed paths. If he were a Knight, that would be one thing, but he's a fucking Master, and, as I have noticed, a very conceited one. He's maybe a good general, sure. But everything else is a dark forest.
Another downside of the potential commotion is the possibility that they might "remove" me from my position as general. Something like: He went crazy in the war, please proceed to the medical ward. Obi-Wan has enough authority to make it happen. To hell with my general's "shoulder straps"—my troopers will suffer. They'll be sent to their deaths. Or, Force forbid, Ahsoka will suffer…
So all I can really do is stock up on popcorn and watch the Jabiim tragedy unfold… while trying to save the lives of my clones, Snips, and myself. Thank the Force I'm not responsible for this operation. All the blame will fall on Obi-Wan, and I can salute with a clear conscience and say I was following orders.
But they can go bald Hutt, I'm not sending Falleeni to them. Glaive wouldn't be happy if I pulled a stunt like that. Maybe I'll manage to save at least one life.
"Blam!" I called the clone on the comlink.
"Yes, General?"
"Gather everyone. I have news."
***
Alto Stratus stood in the square in front of City Hall, watching the column of troops and equipment entering the city. A large number of Trade Federation transporters slowly glided in one after another.
"Alto!" someone called out.
"Dick!" Stratus exclaimed happily. His old friend and comrade-in-arms, Dick Mazzi, had finally arrived in the city. "What brings you here? What's the news?"
"We defeated the meat-droid squad on Arlessar. The two mercenaries sent by Dooku helped eliminate the Jedi who was commanding them. The rest was a piece of cake."
"Where are they?" Alto looked around the column.
"They stayed there. They're setting a trap for the Jedi—want to lure them in so they can finish off both the Jedi and the clones who will supposedly come to the Jedi's aid."
"They would've been useful here," Stratus replied.
Dick slapped him on the shoulder.
"I've got something that'll cheer you up. Count Dooku asked me to give you a gift."
The nearest transporters opened their landing hatches. But instead of the usual B-1 or B-2 silhouettes, droids of a different design emerged. Their bodies shone silver with an unusual structural layout. Each arm carried twin light blasters, and left shoulder held a blaster cannon—its barrels deployed in the marching position, pointed at the sky. The droids' heads looked like bizarre elongated droplets. Four red eyes glowed menacingly from small recesses.
"Commander Stratus," the cold voice of the droid's vocoder broke the silence. "Count Dooku sends his regards. We are at your disposal. We were designed specifically for you and equipped for the conditions of Jabiim's planet. Our databases contain protocols for the effective destruction of over eleven thousand species of living beings, including data on the Jedi."
"What is your primary mission?" Stratus asked.
"To kill. What are your orders?"
Stratus laughed.
"Yes, Dick, this is truly a priceless gift. Dooku promised to send help—and he did. Together, we can defeat the Republic. We will make the Jedi suffer… and they will help me do it."
Alto closed his eyes, lifting his face to the rain.
"The decisive battle will begin soon. Everyone, get ready!"
***
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