C223 Battle of Naboo 1/2

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The chaos in the void of space surrounding Naboo was nearing its crescendo. Atlas, Peter's colossal Cybertronian battleship, was relentless, its sleek hull glowing with the brilliance of its advanced weaponry. Turrets and cannons unleashed precise volleys, obliterating multiple Trade Federation ships with each calculated strike.

Inside Atlas's control room, Peter stood at the main deck, his masked face illuminated by the soft glow of holographic displays. The battle outside was a flurry of explosions and debris, and the once-imposing blockade had been reduced to fragmented wreckage drifting aimlessly in the void.

"Atlas," Peter said, his voice steady but sharp, "finish this quickly. There's a beautiful Queen waiting for us."

The AI's calm voice echoed through the room. "Affirmative, targeting all remaining vessels."

On the battlefield, the Trade Federation's remaining battleships struggled to regroup. Fighters launched desperately from their hangars, attempting to provide cover for their retreat. Droid pilots maneuvered frantically, their efforts coordinated but ultimately futile against Atlas's advanced targeting systems.

Aboard one of the Federation's command ships, a Neimoidian officer shouted over the din of alarms and explosions. "Signal the retreat! We can't hold any longer!"

Back on Atlas, Peter's sharp eyes caught movement on one of the holographic displays—several Trade Federation battleships breaking formation and attempting to slip away from the chaos.

"Trying to run, are we?" he muttered, his voice low and dangerous.

Peter raised a hand, pointing toward the display. "Atlas, don't let them escape. Focus on the retreating ships first. I want every last one of them destroyed."

"Understood," Atlas replied.

The ship's main cannons swiveled with mechanical precision, locking onto the fleeing vessels. In an instant, a barrage of energy blasts erupted from Atlas, streaking across the void like shooting stars.

*Boom!*

The first retreating battleship was hit dead center, its engines erupting in a fiery explosion that engulfed the ship entirely. The shockwave rippled outward, scattering nearby fighters like leaves in a storm.

The remaining retreating ships tried to veer off course, but Atlas was faster. Its turrets adjusted, targeting engines and critical systems with surgical accuracy. One by one, the ships succumbed to the assault, their hulls breaking apart as explosions rippled through their frames.

"No one gets away," Peter said, his voice cold. His hands gripped the edge of the console as he watched the destruction unfold. "No survivors…"

————

Meanwhile, on Naboo…

The soft hum of the Jedi ship's engines faded as Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi descended through Naboo's atmosphere, heading toward the forested outskirts of Theed. The once beautiful city was now a shadow of its former self, marred by the Trade Federation's invasion. Smoke rose in thin columns from various parts of the city, and the telltale metallic glint of battle droids patrolling the streets reflected under the dim sunlight.

Qui-Gon guided the ship into a clearing concealed by thick trees, his hands steady on the controls. The vessel landed with a quiet hiss, and the two Jedi disembarked, their boots crunching against the forest floor. The air was thick with tension, the sounds of distant machinery and faint cries of distress carried on the breeze.

Obi-Wan surveyed the area with sharp eyes, his hand instinctively resting near the hilt of his lightsaber. "The Trade Federation's presence here is far more oppressive than I imagined," he said quietly, his voice tinged with frustration. "It's not just a blockade. They've taken over the entire planet."

Qui-Gon nodded solemnly. "Indeed. This is not the work of mere profiteers. There is something deeper at play, a darker intent."

The two Jedi moved cautiously through the forest, their forms blending into the shadows cast by the towering trees. But before they could get to the city, a faint whirring sound caught Qui-Gon's attention. He raised a hand, signaling Obi-Wan to stop.

A moment later, the sound of marching footsteps erupted in the distance, the unmistakable sound of an advancing army cutting through the stillness of the woods.

"They've found us," Qui-Gon said grimly.

"Then we'll have to deal with them," Obi-Wan replied, igniting his lightsaber with a sharp hiss, its blue blade casting a faint glow around them.

As they emerged into a clearing, they saw several squads of battle droids advancing, their blasters raised. Among them were hulking AAT tanks, their turrets swiveling as they began to target the Jedi.

Qui-Gon activated his green lightsaber and stepped forward, deflecting the first volley of blaster bolts with precise, fluid movements. Obi-Wan darted to the side, his blade spinning in tight arcs as he redirected shots back at the droids, taking down several with clean strikes.

An AAT fired a plasma shell, the projectile screaming through the air toward Qui-Gon. With a wave of his hand, he used the Force to redirect the shell, sending it careening into a cluster of droids. The explosion sent metal fragments flying, reducing the droids to smoldering heaps.

Obi-Wan leaped into the fray, his movements a blur as he cut through another squad of droids. He ducked under a blaster bolt, then thrust his lightsaber upward, slicing through the turret of a tank and rendering it useless.

Just as the battle seemed to be tipping in their favor, a high-pitched scream echoed through the clearing. Both Jedi turned to see a bizarre figure sprinting toward them, flailing his arms wildly.

"Mesa in big trouble! Help, help!" the creature shouted, his voice shrill and frantic.

[Insert picture of Jar Jar Binks here]

It was a Gungan—a gangly, amphibious being with floppy ears and wide panicked eyes.

The Gungan skidded to a halt behind them, panting heavily. "Dey comin' after mesa!" he wailed, pointing back toward the droids pursuing him. A squad of battle droids burst into view, firing as they advanced.

"Stay down!" Obi-Wan snapped, deflecting a barrage of blaster bolts as Qui-Gon stepped forward to engage the new wave of droids. The Jedi moved in perfect harmony, their sabers cutting through the mechanical onslaught with ease.

As the last of the droids fell, the Gungan peeked out from behind a tree, his eyes wide with awe. "Ohhh, dat was bombad!" he exclaimed, bouncing on his heels. "Mesa so grateful to yousa. Mesa forever indebted to yousa now. Mesa Jar Jar Binks, at your humble service!"

Obi-Wan shook his head, his expression a mix of irritation and disbelief. "No thanks. We have our hands full as it is…"

Jar Jar's eyes lit up as if Obi-Wan's protest were an invitation. He stepped forward, his arms flailing in an exaggerated bow. "No, no, mesa insist! Mesa gonna help yousa now! Mesa loyal servant! Wherever yousa go, mesa go too!"

Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. "We don't have time for this nonsense."

Qui-Gon held up a hand to calm his Padawan, but his tone was firm as he addressed Jar Jar. "We appreciate your gratitude, but this is not your fight. You should return to wherever you came from."

Jar Jar's face crumpled into an exaggerated look of hurt. "But mesa owe yousa life! Yousa saved mesa! Gungans don't leave debts unpaid!"

Obi-Wan muttered under his breath, clearly irritated. "Master, we can't drag him along. He'll jeopardize the mission."

"Yousa won't even notice mesa!" Jar Jar said, puffing out his chest with pride. "Mesa quiet like a Naboo peko-peko! Mesa sneaky, mesa useful!"

Qui-Gon studied Jar Jar for a long moment, his gaze piercing. He sighed, sensing the Gungan's stubbornness. "You're insistent, aren't you?"

"Yessir!" Jar Jar replied, practically vibrating with excitement. "Mesa dedicated to yousa now!"

Qui-Gon turned to Obi-Wan, his tone low and thoughtful. "The Gungans are native to Naboo. Having one with us could prove useful..."

Obi-Wan's eyes widened in disbelief. "You're not seriously considering this, Master?"

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," Qui-Gon replied calmly. He looked back at Jar Jar, his tone stern. "Very well, you may come with us. But you must follow closely and do exactly as I say. And no unnecessary noise or trouble."

Jar Jar saluted enthusiastically, nearly hitting himself in the face. "Yousa won't regret this! Mesa loyal, mesa helpful, mesa—"

"Quiet," Obi-Wan snapped, his irritation clear. "We don't need a running commentary."

Jar Jar fell silent, though his grin remained wide and unwavering.

The trio began making their way toward Theed, Jar Jar trailing behind with an uncharacteristic attempt at stealth. As they neared the city, its devastation became painfully clear.

Buildings were scorched and crumbling, and the streets were eerily silent save for the distant clank of droid patrols. Civilians were herded into camps, their faces etched with fear and despair.

Obi-Wan clenched his fists, his voice low with anger. "This isn't just an occupation—it's a massacre in slow motion."

Qui-Gon placed a calming hand on his Padawan's shoulder. "Patience, Obi-Wan. The time to act will come."

Behind them, Jar Jar's eyes briefly flashed a sickly yellow, an unsettling glow that vanished as quickly as it appeared. Neither Jedi noticed as the Gungan's expression returned to its usual wide-eyed innocence.

Obi-Wan ignored him, focusing instead on the towering palace in the distance. "Master, how do we proceed?"

Qui-Gon's eyes rested on the palace in the distance, his thoughts weighing their next move. "We'll head to the palace to locate the Queen. With luck, we'll also cross paths with Star-Lord."

"You trust him?" Obi-Wan asked, his tone laced with skepticism toward the enigmatic Star-Lord.

"I'm not certain yet," Qui-Gon admitted, a note of caution in his voice. "But we'll know soon enough."

Jar Jar trailed behind, humming an off-key tune as they disappeared into the shadows of Theed.

————

In the palace dungeons, Padmé Amidala sat slumped against the cold wall of her cell, her breathing shallow and uneven. Her arms lay limply at her sides, her head drooped forward as though the weight of despair had overtaken her. The lone B1 battle droid stationed outside her cell stood motionless, its photoreceptors dim as it maintained its passive vigil.

Inside, Padmé's mind was anything but defeated. Star-Lord's broadcast had reignited her determination to fight, and now she was formulating her escape. She glanced at the droid through her lashes, careful not to move too suddenly and give away her plan.

Her breathing became more labored, and she groaned weakly, her voice hoarse and trembling. "H-help… I… I can't… breathe…" she gasped, clutching her stomach and sliding further down the wall as though she were succumbing to some unseen illness.

The droid's mechanical head tilted slightly at the sound, its auditory sensors picking up her distressed cries. "Prisoner appears to be in distress," it said to no one in particular, its monotone voice betraying no concern.

Padmé let out a louder, more desperate cry, clutching her chest as she coughed violently. "Please… I need… help…" Her body convulsed as she faked another coughing fit, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. She slumped onto her side, her movements growing weaker.

The droid hesitated for a moment before stepping closer to the door. "Prisoner, state the nature of your medical emergency," it said, peering through the bars. When Padmé didn't respond, the droid appeared to process the situation before mumbling to itself, "Protocol requires investigation of prisoner health."

It raised its mechanical arm, activating the control panel next to the door. The cell door hissed open, and the droid stepped inside, its blaster lowered as it approached her motionless form.

Padmé remained still until the droid was close enough to loom over her. Her breaths were shallow, her body trembling just enough to sell the act. The droid leaned down, scanning her with its sensors. "Analyzing vital signs… Prisoner appears—"

With a sudden burst of movement, Padmé sprang into action. Her hand shot up, grabbing the barrel of the droid's blaster and yanking it out of its grasp with surprising strength. The droid flinched, its mechanical limbs jerking as it attempted to process the unexpected attack.

Before it could react further, Padmé swung the heavy blaster with both hands, striking the droid's head with a loud crack. Sparks flew as the droid staggered backward, its photoreceptors flickering. A second strike brought it crashing to the ground. Without hesitation, she took aim and fired, reducing the droid to a lifeless heap of metal.

Padmé stood over the droid, her chest heaving as she steadied herself. The smoking blaster felt heavy in her hands, but she gripped it tightly, knowing it was her key to survival. She quickly glanced out of the cell, ensuring the corridor was still empty before stepping over the droid's remains and closing the cell door behind her.

'I need to find Captain Panaka…'

Her heart pounded as she moved swiftly but carefully down the hall, keeping the blaster raised and ready. The faint hum of machinery and the occasional clank of distant droid footsteps filled the air, but she remained focused, her senses sharp.

At the end of the corridor, two B1 battle droids turned the corner, their photoreceptors locking onto her immediately. "Unauthorized movement detected—"

Padmé didn't wait for them to finish. She fired twice, the blaster bolts hitting their marks and sending the droids collapsing to the ground in smoldering heaps. Her hands trembled slightly from the recoil, but she pressed forward, determined not to let fear slow her down.

As she navigated the labyrinthine halls of the palace, Padmé encountered more droids. Each one fell to her quick and precise shots before they could raise the alarm. Her movements were swift and deliberate, her growing confidence tempered by the knowledge that any mistake could cost her dearly. The fire of her determination burned brighter with every step.

Rounding a corner, Padmé paused as she spotted a row of cells. Her heart clenched at the sight of her people imprisoned within. Their defeated expressions twisted into hope as they saw her, but she pressed a finger to her lips, silently signaling them to remain quiet. She couldn't risk freeing them all—not yet. It would draw too much attention.

Her gaze fell on one particular cell, and her breath caught as she recognized the man within: Captain Panaka, his uniform tattered but his posture still resolute.

"Captain!" she whispered, moving quickly to the control panel beside his cell.

"Your Majesty?" Panaka's voice was hoarse but filled with relief. He stepped closer to the bars, his face lighting up at the sight of her. "I can't believe it's you. Are you hurt?"

"No," she replied, quickly scanning the control panel for the cell's release mechanism. "But I couldn't just sit and wait for rescue. We're getting out of here."

Panaka's brow furrowed. "It's not safe, Your Majesty. The palace is crawling with droids. How did you even get this far?"

Padmé gave him a wry smile as she pressed the release button. "Turns out, I'm pretty handy with one of these," she said, holding up her blaster with a confident glint in her eye.

The cell door slid open with a soft hiss, and Panaka stepped out, immediately scanning the hallway. He retrieved a discarded blaster rifle from a fallen droid nearby and turned back to Padmé, his expression resolute.

"What's the plan?" he asked, falling naturally back into his role as her protector.

"We need to get to the upper levels of the palace," she said, her voice firm. "I found an access hatch that should lead us there. From there, we can find Star-Lord."

"He's here?" Panaka asked, as he didn't see the broadcast.

"Of course he is." Padme smiled unconsciously.

Panaka nodded. "Then lead the way. I've got your back."

The two moved cautiously through the dimly lit corridors, their footsteps muffled by the thick carpet underfoot. They encountered another small patrol of droids, but with Panaka at her side,

Padmé felt an added sense of security. Together, they dispatched the droids with practiced efficiency, their blaster fire echoing briefly before silence returned.

Finally, they reached the access hatch Padmé had discovered earlier. She pried it open, revealing the narrow tunnel leading upward.

"After you, Your Majesty," Panaka said, keeping watch as she climbed into the hatch.

Padmé squeezed into the cramped space, the metal walls cool against her palms. She began to climb, the blaster slung across her shoulder as she ascended. Panaka followed closely behind, his larger frame making the climb more challenging, but he didn't falter.

The faint sound of alarms reached their ears, signaling that her escape had not gone unnoticed. Padmé's heart pounded in her chest, but she pushed forward, her resolve unshaken. She was no longer a prisoner. She was a queen—and she would fight to reclaim her freedom and her people's future.

Panaka's voice broke the tense silence as they continued upward. "You've done well, Your Majesty. But we'll need more than luck to finish this."

Padmé glanced down at him, a spark of determination in her eyes. "We don't need luck, Captain. Not while we have Star-Lord..."

————

Minutes earlier, the throne room of Naboo's royal palace, once a place of elegance and diplomacy, now bore the oppressive presence of the Trade Federation. Viceroy Nute Gunray paced furiously, his robes billowing with every sharp turn. He clenched his hands tightly behind his back, his face a mixture of fear and frustration as the latest reports reached him.

A holographic projection of one of his officers flickered in the center of the room, the Neimoidian's voice trembling. "Viceroy, our fleet is taking significant losses! Star-Lord's ship is—"

"I don't want excuses!" Gunray interrupted, slamming his fist against the armrest of the throne he had commandeered. "Deploy every ship we have! I want him destroyed!"

The officer nodded shakily before the transmission cut out. Gunray turned to the other Neimoidians in the room, his voice shrill. "Order all available forces on the planet to launch immediately. Swarm him! Overwhelm him! I don't care what it takes—end him!"

The command rippled through the Trade Federation's ranks. On the planet's surface, hangars that had been converted into droid fighter bays roared to life. Rows of warships big and small activated, launching into the sky in coordinated waves.

The swarm ascended rapidly, breaking through Naboo's atmosphere to join the remnants of the Trade Federation's blockade. The once-organized formation of the fleet was now in disarray, battered and scattered by Star-Lord's unrelenting assault. But the reinforcements brought a glimmer of hope to the embattled officers as their numbers swelled.

On the bridge of Atlas, Peter stood firm, his mask obscuring his expression but the glowing red of his eyes reflecting his steely resolve. He watched as the swarm of reinforcements ascended from Naboo's surface, their numbers darkening the sky as they converged on Atlas.

"Alfred," Peter said, his voice calm but commanding. "How are we looking?"

The AI's voice responded immediately, a crisp, analytical tone. "Enemy reinforcements detected. Estimate: 1,000 additional ships. Adjusting tactical parameters."

Peter tilted his head slightly. "That's a lot of metal heading our way."

"Not enough to match Atlas," Alfred replied.

"Deploying countermeasures," Atlas added.

From Atlas, bursts of defensive countermeasures lit up the void, scattering energy pulses and magnetic disruptors into the approaching swarm. The ships began to falter, their systems glitching as the disruptors interfered with their targeting mechanisms.

Simultaneously, Atlas unleashed a barrage of precise laser strikes, each blast finding its mark with surgical accuracy. Entire squadrons of droid fighters were wiped out in seconds, their debris scattering into the cold expanse of space.

Rocket, seated at a weapons console, cackled gleefully as he controlled a single cannon, targeting another cluster of droid fighters. "Come on, you tin cans! Let's see what you've got!"

Despite Atlas's overwhelming firepower, the sheer volume of enemy fighters pressed hard against the ship's defenses. Blaster bolts peppered the hull, and the ship shuddered as a few well-placed shots managed to breach the shields.

"Minor damage detected on the starboard side," Alfred reported. "Shields holding at 87%."

Peter nodded, his hand moving to the necklace he wore beneath his jacket. The small, glowing AllSpark shard pulsed with life as he lifted it. "Time to fix that."

Holding the AllSpark aloft, Peter focused his energy, channeling its power into Atlas. A soft, radiant light emanated from the shard, spreading across the ship's interior and exterior. The damaged sections of the hull seemed to shimmer before knitting themselves back together, the metal reforming seamlessly.

Rocket glanced up from his console, whistling. "That thing's a cheat code. Can I borrow it sometime?"

Peter chuckled softly, tucking the AllSpark back beneath his shirt. "No."

With the repairs complete, Atlas intensified its assault. Cannons roared, launching a relentless barrage of energy blasts that tore through the Trade Federation's fleet. One by one, the remaining battleships were reduced to fireballs, their hulks drifting lifelessly in space.

The final droid fighters attempted to regroup and retreat, but Peter wasn't about to let them escape. "Atlas," he said, his tone deadly. "No survivors."

"Understood," Atlas replied. The ship's targeting systems recalibrated, and a series of devastating blasts followed. The fleeing fighters exploded one by one, their fragments scattering into the void.

Within moments, the battlefield fell silent, the Trade Federation fleet annihilated. Only the glowing wreckage of their ships remained, floating like grave markers in the cold expanse of space.

Peter exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly as the adrenaline began to fade. He stepped forward, his gaze fixed on the planet below. Naboo's lush green surface stood in stark contrast to the destruction he had just unleashed.

"Atlas," he said quietly, his voice resolute. "Take us down."

The massive warship began its descent, its engines humming with a steady, powerful rhythm as it pierced the planet's atmosphere. The clouds parted as Atlas approached Naboo, a beacon of hope—or perhaps fear—for those below.

————

Back in the Throne Room, Viceroy Nute Gunray stood frozen in place, his ashen face betraying the panic gripping him. He watched through a holographic feed as the last of the Trade Federation's fleet exploded in a cascade of fire and debris above Naboo. The once-mighty blockade was no more, wiped out by the relentless onslaught of Star-Lord's warship.

"How… how is this possible?" Gunray stammered, his voice barely more than a whisper. His wide, fearful eyes flicked to the officers around him, seeking an explanation that none of them could provide.

The holographic feed cut out, leaving only the ominous silence of the room and the faint hum of machinery. A tense stillness hung in the air, broken only by the sound of hurried footsteps as a subordinate rushed in, his face pale.

"Viceroy!" the officer blurted, nearly tripping over himself in his haste. "Star-Lord's ship has entered Naboo's atmosphere and is heading directly for us!"

Gunray's trembling hands gripped the edge of Padmé's throne, his knuckles turning white. "He's coming here?" he rasped, the fear in his voice clear to all. "Here?"

The officer nodded, his voice shaky. "Yes, Viceroy. He'll be here within minutes."

Gunray's mind raced. Every attempt to stop this so-called Star-Lord had ended in catastrophic failure. His fleet was gone, his forces in disarray. If Star-Lord reached him, there would be no escape. Unless…

Gunray straightened, his gaze narrowing as desperation took hold. "We need leverage," he said, his voice regaining a semblance of authority. "If this Star-Lord cares for the Queen of Naboo as much as he claims, then she'll be our bargaining chip."

He turned to one of his lieutenants, pointing a trembling finger. "Send some droids to fetch her. Bring Padmé Amidala to me—alive! If we have her, we can negotiate. She's our only chance."

The lieutenant hesitated for a fraction of a second, visibly uneasy. But Gunray's glare left no room for argument. "Go!" the Viceroy barked. The lieutenant bowed quickly and motioned to a squad of droids, who clattered out of the room to carry out the order.

Gunray paced the throne room, muttering under his breath. "Yes… yes, we'll use her. He won't dare kill me if her life is at stake."

But before his false confidence could take root, the doors to the throne room burst open with a loud crash, and a pair of subordinates rushed in, their faces stricken with fear.

"Viceroy!" one of them called, his voice high-pitched and frantic. "The Queen—she's escaped!"

Gunray froze mid-step, his mind struggling to process the words. He turned to the subordinates, his face twisting with disbelief. "What did you say?" he hissed.

"The Queen," the other subordinate repeated, swallowing hard. "She's not in her cell. She's gone!"

"?!"

A/N: 4142 words :)

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