Future Imperfect

Part 1

Industrial District "Helios"

Coruscant

Darth Sidious prowled through one of his secret sanctuaries within the very heart of the Republic. It wasn't exactly a place what one would associate as the lair of the Dark Lord of the Sith. In fact, his current adobe was a luxury executive apartment on one of the highest floors of a building housing a droid assembly plant. Officially he was visiting a wealthy Coruscanti magnate, who had few issues concerning the build up of the Republic army to bring up with an old friend.

Needless to say, the truth was a bit different. Said businessman was one of the many puppets of Palpatine, this one even helping him willingly and making a fortune from the war. Of course, the man, one George Kol, was unaware of the Chancellor's true identity and real plants for the future, though he might have approved.

It didn't matter. Kol had been under the Force induced influence of Sidious for a long time, making him little more than a puppet if the Sith Lord so wished. As it was, the magnate was providing Sidious with a fool proof alibi, while the Sith Lord was busy investigating how exactly his plans went awry. Again.

Palpatine had a data-pad in hand and was reading reports from two different sources about the attack on the Jedi Temple, which was executed the previous day. On the face of it, the raid went flawlessly. Almost too good to be true and it was.

He was looking at two documents in particular. One was the GAR preliminary report about the attack on the Jedi Temple and the other was the summary from the CIS agents who made it out after the attack. There were subtle, but critical differences.

On the face of it, the reports agreed. The CIS agents had infiltrated the building without too much trouble and by all accounts had achieved their primary objectives, despite suffering heavy casualties. The high points were the death of some Jedi, who's names were included in the GAR report, something that brought the Sith Lord a lot of pleasure. Further, thanks to the successful break into the Jedi Temple's comm tower, his hands were untied. Now Sidious could provide ever better intelligence to the CIS in order to steer them against targets he needed eliminated, or straight into traps if he deemed it necessary.

Even better, that mercenary Bane managed to get his hands on more than one Jedi Holocron. With that fool Bolla Ropal captured and the crystal secured, it was only a matter of "persuading" the Jedi Master or one of his brethren to unlock the data. That would give Sidious access to the most powerful Force sensitive children the Order knew about. By retrieving or disposing of them, he would strike another blow to the Jedi, one aimed at their very future.

Not that the fools had any.

That was the good news. As great as it were, it failed to make up for what had happened next. Yesterday, Sidious had almost died along with most of the Jedi on Coruscant.

That was a stunning revelation. The Force didn't warn him about any danger. The only thing he felt was the Light side in the Temple weakening, which he thought was due to the raid being more successful than his wildest dreams.

Instead, he had come close to being blown up by something called a Nexus Bomb. Sidious didn't recall ever hearing about it, but he would make sure by checking up his Sith archives. It was supposedly some kind of area denial weapon from the Great war, which used the Force as an energy source to charge a massive explosion. Or so the GAR believed. What made that part of the report even more interesting, was that Veil had confirmed it.

Ah, the Rogue. That strange man was becoming more and more interesting. Sidious would need to move soon and contact him with a proposition to join his side. Or kill him for being so troublesome.

Either way, that self styled Sith was becoming too dangerous to be left on his own devises.

But he could wait a bit. What Sidious wanted to know right now, is how one of his CIS pawns knew about that bomb under the Jedi Temple. Whoever that person was who almost got him killed, wasn't working alone.

First he was wounded during the attack on the Senate and now he almost died again. This was no coincidence. Someone within the CIS was attempting to get rid of him. The questions remained, who was to blame and whether he or they knew his true identity. Provided that Dooku wasn't to blame.

Sidious grimaced. He had to clean up house before he could continue building the foundations for his Galactic Empire.

That was the bright spot. Thanks to the recent attacks, pushing through the necessary laws had become much easier.

Palpatine continued reading the reports until something unusual caught his attention. It was about the infiltrators. The fact that they were Force Adepts with somewhat decent training was something he knew. He was also aware of the artifacts they used to conceal themselves. By the Force, he was wearing one similar to what they used, which helped hide the fact that he was a Force Adept. However, in his case, it was a contingency in case that for some reason he was unable to maintain the technique hiding his true face.

No, all those things were almost trivial. What surprised him was that those men and women had some substantial cybernetic augmentations. That, combined with the artifacts should have cut them from the Force, making them unable to use it. He frowned. Someone within the CIS had either made a breakthrough of had found a previously forgotten cache of knowledge to achieve that. And he learned about it in a GAR report of all things!

Sidious snarled and drew a secure comm device from the folds of his midnight black robes. Someone was going to pay for this!

=RK=

Munificent Command Ship "Invisible Blade"

Hyperspace

Count Dooku glared at one of his most trusted agents from his command chair. The Chiss woman had her eyes lowered in shame. She was kneeling on the metal floor of the bridge, while the droids manning the consoles around her and her master paid them no attention.

"This is unacceptable!" declared the Sith Lord. "I expected much more from the leader of my Dark Acolytes," Dooku's voice rumbled through the bridge. "Sev'Rance, we didn't go to such lengths to fake your death, only for you to prove next to useless in this new role. You will explain this failure. NOW!" he snapped at the kneeling woman.

"My Lord, my investigation started after the first attacks on Coruscant... On the face of it, everything was simple. Or should have been so. In both cases, we got better information on the Republic military and security forces in the Capital System than the GAR itself. In hindsight it was too good to be true. As you know master, it was."

"But not in a way that either of us would have expected," muttered Dooku. Indeed, if the CIS forces attacking Coruscant had simply walked into a trap, he wouldn't have been so concerned. Minus the fact that in such a case he still would have been a prisoner to the Jedi.

"The plans for both attacks were altered while the forces were en route and sent to the commanders designated to execute the operations. The basics remained the same. Take the first series of attacks, the ones in which you were freed, Master."

"Extrapolate."

"The command staff in CIS Headquarters crafted the basic plan. An operation to capture the Chancellor and as many senators as possible. A spoiling attacks against few critical GAR bases, slowing down the enemy response. Finally, a direct action against the Jedi Temple in a secondary attempt to free you if Palpatine couldn't be persuaded to order your and Grievous' release."

"It worked. More or less. But the release of Blue Shadow on Coruscant dealt a heavy blow on our credibility. That's before a nerve agent was used at the Senate. Even killing so many of the Republic leadership won't make up for what we lost," growled Dooku.

"That's correct, master. The additions to the plan were added by parties unknown, using Council codes, though I was unable to confirm any treason on their parts. I scanned the minds of the suspects. They had no idea about any of this."

That bit of information caught the Count's attention. He had expected that some Councilors were playing their own game. By the Force, he knew that they were plotting. But, this mess not being their fault was a concern. It implied that there was a faction within the CIS he knew nothing about. A competent and dangerous one at that.

"I had two avenues of investigation open. First, one of my tech experts was able to locate the network hub from which the order alternations originated. Second, perhaps a more important clue was the intelligence we received from sources within the GAR. The forces that were used in the first attack on the Jedi Temple was what caught our attention."

Dooku gave her a grim nod.

"The Force using clones of my Dark Acolytes who spearheaded that assault, allowing a commando team to release me. They were led by a clone of you. One that the new Republic General, Veil, defeated and now has as an apprentice."

"This is correct, master. About which investigation should I speak first?"

"I want to know the origin of the altered orders."

"I started my hunt in the heart of the CIS Military Headquarters..."

=RK=

General Valentra's office

GAR Headquarters (Location Classified)

Coruscant

"It is decided then," declared Ivon Fell, the civilian head of ONI.

"We know it's a trap," supplied Jack. The clone didn't relish sending his brethren in another meat-grinder, but sometimes it simply couldn't be helped.

"One we have to spring," said Veil.

"Indeed. We are offered a tempting bait. Those new factories on Geonosis can't be allowed to come online," added Director Yle. The new chief of SBI didn't like it any more than the rest of the people in the room.

The target was one that couldn't be left alone. Furthermore, the intelligence had come from a source within CIS none of the people present could confirm as one of their own. Yet the Chancellor considered the information to be gods' own gospel...

Under other circumstances, none of them would have it found too strange that Palpatine had his own private sources on the other side. After all, he was a politician with decades of experience on the galactic stage, with all the contacts that implied. But now, after the attacks on Coruscant, when the war was becoming something personal for the people of the Republic, not some distant conflict fought in the Outer Rim?

It made one think. The CIS Council had to see the writing on the wall. The Clone wars had become a conflict of survival. Simply put, the Separatists couldn't afford to lose, especially their leadership. All of them had a parsec long war crimes charges waiting for them in such a case. Both the surviving Senators and the masses wanted blood. So, why did one of Palpatine's friends feed the Republic this information, when if the CIS lost, even the Chancellor's growing influence might be unable to keep their necks off the chopping block?

After all, if it was the oldest motive, money and power, you needed to be alive and free to make use of them. Then again, it could be blackmail or something like that. Even someone who had a change of faith after the Spectre of the biological weaponry was released.

Nevertheless, Mark couldn't help but wonder. Something didn't feel right with that information. If he had to be fair to himself, there was something off with the whole war. He should know. He had access to more information about the conflict bar almost anyone in the galaxy. It was one of the questionable perks about his position as a Director of the SBI.

"Well, we'll be starting Angel Fall within the week," declared Valentra.

Everyone gave him a slight nod. It would be barely enough time to organize things in the critical locations of their organizations across the galaxy. However, the simple truth was that they could scarcely afford to wait even that long. The Republic was leaking intelligence on all fronts like a busted dam. Which in turn was the Rancor no one was willing to talk about so far.

"Let's cut to the chase, shall we?" asked General Veil.

Valentra smirked. It was about time.

"So, you want us to discuss the obvious, eh boss?" quipped Jack. "Finally..." he muttered.

It was Ivon who actually said it aloud.

"We all have some idea how badly the enemy agents had penetrated the Republic. That combined with the strategic advantage the CIS has until our economy is firmly on war footing and we can muster our clone armies with new recruits... We should have been military defeated in the first four to six months of the conflict."

There was grim silence after her declaration. If there was anyone who knew how true her words were, it were the people assembled in Valentra's office.

"The GAR and the Republic Navy, before it was folded under the army's umbrella for the duration of the conflict, simply didn't have the numbers to hold off the CIS. But some enemy's strategic decisions simply make no sense whatsoever, if they fought to win the war," said Veil.

The intelligence chiefs looked at him grimly. They all had read highly classified reports saying the same thing. There were too many instances where the enemy had been making disastrous decisions. Even more concerning, a lot of the analysts who had created those reports had been either reassigned or had suffered fatal "accidents". Then there were other cases where Republic forces were either ambushed and annihilated or simply placed in a position, which would insure long and hard campaign.

"You've seen the pattern," Yle deadpanned.

"Someone wants a protracted war," Valentra whispered with a venom in his voice. It was his boys and girls who were paying the price.

It was a simple sentence. Yet, it would have repercussions no one in the meeting could have imagined. Isn't it interesting, how just a few words could be the pebble that would one day cause an avalanche changing the whole galaxy...

=RK=

Two Days earlier

Security Center

Jedi Temple

One of the Clone technicians monitoring the various sensor feeds from within the Jedi Temple stumbled upon something interesting. A small sphere shaped drone, one of the hundreds patrolling the corridors of the vast building, passed near a group of Jedi Masters. To the Clone's surprise, Mace Windu was one of them. That fact by itself would have been more than enough to get his undivided attention, even if he wasn't one of General Veil's special operatives.

The Clone, who was going by the name of Ink, which went with his face designation, listened carefully what the Jedi discussed. They would meditate, hoping that the Force would lead them to the most threatened Jedi children. That made sense to the agent. He was made aware by his contacts what have been the point of the Holocron theft that occurred days prior. The CIS, or at least Dooku's agents now had access to the means to read the information on the names and locations of the all Force sensitive children across the galaxy that the Jedi knew about. Which was significant because the Order had lost contact with the Master who had that information on an encrypted crystal on his person.

Ink knew hot information when he stumbled upon it so he had redirected various sensors and security droids to rotate around and focus on the Jedi Masters in question. To his pleasant surprise, none of them thought that there was something wrong. So he was able to listen to them and find out the location of the kids that the CIS was likely to target from the Jedi's own lips. The agent wasted no time and at the first opportunity that presented itself, he transmitted the data to his superiors.

The information was in the hands of the General's special forces before the Jedi had made arrangements to go after the kids themselves.

=RK=

Black Fleet Carrier "Dragon Claw"

High Orbit over Yavin IV

A second hand cruiser, which once belonged to the Republic Navy was hanging over a green moon, which in turn orbited a gas giant. That was the current flagship belonging to a clandestine military group answering to a certain Republic General.

On a deck outfitted as an intelligence gathering and processing section, a holocom message was received from a source on Coruscant. It was promptly scanned for any unwelcome surprises before being decrypted and read by an operative with sufficiently high clearance. Moments later, the Intel deck of the cruiser become a beehive of controlled chaos.

"Colonel, you need to see this!"

A man wearing gray uniform showing no sign of any insignia, looked up from a data pad from which he was reading. He was the Clone in charge of the steadily increasing, in both capacity and reach, black operations outfit created by his commanding officer.

"What is it, Operations?" he answered in a mellow voice, which was a bit unusual for one of the copies of Jango Fett.

"We have a confirmed Case Shallow Dream. We just got four locations. Glee Anselm, Rodia, Naboo and Onderon. The Jedi believed that the subject on Glee Anselm has been lost already."

"Naboo and Rodia. We don't have assets that can reach Onderon before the Jedi."

"We have at two units as a part of the blockade over Naboo. One of our Q-Ships should be able to reach Rodia before the Jedi."

"Good. Dispatch the teams. I want the colony below us to be up and running ASAP. It will be needed if we are able to get any of the kids. Is this all?"

"There is nothing else that can't wait for the briefing in three hours, Colonel."

"Carry on then."

=RK=

Part 2

Republic frigate "Keen Blade"

High Orbit over Rodia

A heavy Republic frigate blinked into existence, finishing a short hyperspace jump. The ship was squeaking a current Navy IFF, designating it as a part of the Deep Core reserve fleet. That much was true. On paper. In reality, the frigate was one of the few dozen "official" warships doing odd jobs for General Veil's black operations division.

"Keen Blade" had been returning from its latest mission, that of a glorified taxi for a bunch of clones testing some of the new toys cooked up by the R&D division, when she and her crew received new orders. They were to secure a couple of VIPs on Rodia, which was only a couple of short jumps from the frigate's current location.

A few hours later, the warship arrived over the Rodian homeworld and launched a heavy shuttle escorted by a quartet of upgraded Torrents. Just in case something went wrong, the transport was carrying nine heavily armed and armored clones.

=RK=

Republic Navy "Nomad" flight

Rodia

Sergeant Soap glanced over his men, who were looking at the droid strapped near the shuttle's cockpit. The robot was plugged into a tactical console surfing the Rodian Civilian holonet while they all waited for the machine to find some more information about their targets besides names and general location.

The NCO in charge of the retrieval team made a final check of his men equipment. His heavy gunners, Tank and Grunt, were clad in full armor, turning them into two meter tall juggernauts made of shields and composites. They were carrying rotary cannons and backpacks full with ammo.

Next was the demo expert. A crazy bastard calling himself Drake. The fella was wearing the same medium armor as the rest of his troops, resembling what the commandos were equipped with at the start of the conflict. The main difference were the crimson flames painted on the man's helmet.

Drake was hugging his grenade launcher, even petting the damn thing. Soap was almost sure that his somewhat disturbing soldier was whispering sweet nothings to the gun. He really didn't want to know. Besides, Drake was fiendishly good with everything that made bang, which made up for his quirks. The backpack chock full with exploding goodies for every situation helped out too.

Next were the pair of a sniper and spotter: Reaper and Farsight. Those two could wreak havoc on an enemy from kilometers away. Plus, neither of them had any disturbing habits, making them Soap's favorites.

Finally, the three "ordinary" grunts. First, Ghost, an infiltrator and close quarters combat specialist. He was a good man, but had the uncanny habit of stalking his teammates, "to hone his skills", or so he said. Ghost had nearly caused Soap a heart attack a few times.

There was Doc, the squad medic, who had a really morbid sense of humor, and last but not the least, Wes, an average grunt, who was still wondering how he ended up teamed up with those maniacs.

"Wee Dunn. Eleven months old Rodian. Lives with his single mother Mahtee Dunn in Kay-Tap square. Father deceased. No other living relatives on the planet."

Holographic emitters built into the shuttle's troop compartment came to life, showing a 3D map of a domed city and zooming in until a single small house was visible. A window opened next to the map, showing a smiling Rodian woman proudly holding a toddler.

"Those two are the VIP's we're after!" declared Soap. "The kid is the primary objective. We are to retrieve him, unharmed, at all costs. If practical, we should get the mother too. If by some miracle, this op goes without a hitch..." Soap waited for the chuckling to subside, "we're to just go there and take them into protective custody."

"Fat chance," muttered Doc.

"Indeed. We are never that lucky," deadpanned Tank.

Soap snorted. It was damn true. At least now they had some decent equipment at hand. For a moment he looked at the back of the shuttle remembering the banter of his men in the armory.

=RK=

Flashback

Armory

Republic Frigate "Keen Blade"

Hyperspace

Gear hobbled after his squad mates. He was going to make a final check up on their armor and equipment, hoping to avoid an accident like the one which nearly crippled him on their last mission.

"Drake, we are know how much you love the new launchers and want to have a love child with them, however, if you shoot again one of the Ion grenades danger close, even the improved armor won't save you!"

"Hey! Your armor was fine! The discharge barely scorched it! How was I supposed to know that the Ion grenades you were carrying were defective and would go off at the slightest discharge near you?!" exclaimed the demo expert.

"Idiot! If I was wearing the standard armor, my nervous system would be fired right now!"

"Next time take one of these babies and it won't matter," interjected Grunt, while gently patting the chest plate of his heavy armor.

"I'm the damn tech, not a walking tank! What the hell is wrong with you all?"

"Oh, chill off already!" exclaimed Ghost.

The infiltrator was checking up his brand new carbine and its under-slung grenade launcher. The weapon was much better than the standard gear used by the clones ever since the war started. It was more accurate, had different fire modes and hard points for mounting additional equipment.

"Sweet, isn't it? I can't wait to see how well it takes apart Droids. And people," muttered Doc.

"Who was the genius that made him a medic anyway?" Wes wondered aloud.

"I heard that kid."

"Kriff it all."

"Stow it soldiers. Doc, you won't be messing up with Wes, is that clear? And you, Drake! If you pull a stunt like that again you'll explaining to me why I shouldn't put your ass on report! Is. This. CLEAR?" Soap's voice silenced the banter of his maniacs.

'Why me?' wondered the NCO. What did he did to deserve serving with these lunatics under his command?

"Clear, sir! Though Grunt has a point. If we all wore the heavy armors, that incident wouldn't have hurt Gear. Those suits are sweet piece of work! They are shielded against Ion discharges! They even have motorized joints so we can carry even bigger guns and more ammo!" Tank spoke with a gleam in his eyes.

"That's right!" added Grunt. "And look at this armor! It can stop at least a couple of heavy blaster bolts!" he patted the chess plate of his suit.

"Yeah. I can't wait! Soon enough all of our brothers will have such gear and then the kriffing droids are going straight to the scrap heap!"

"That's nothing! I heard from one of the eggheads that all equipment we are testing is merely a stop gap until the exo-skeletons and power armor finish development!" added Reaper.

"Rediscover them you mean," said Gear. "I'm fairly sure that power armor and light exo-skeletons were used during the Great War few thousand years ago. It's a pity the Republic had lost all that tech."

"Show off," muttered Farsight.

"What? The man loves studying history in his copious free time. What's wrong with that?" Wes wondered aloud.

Flashback End

=RK=

Jag-Wa City

Naboo

"Easy job, you said. Protect a little girl. What could possibly go wrong? You had to say it, didn't you, Fixer?" grumbled Scorch as he ducked under a burst of fire.

Around the members of Delta Squad of the Republic Commandos, a once pristine city street was promptly becoming a slice of hell.

"More shooting, deal with Fixer's big mouth later!" shouted Scorch a moment before throwing a pair of thermal detonators.

The deadly spheres flew through the window of a nearby house, the current fire-base of a group of mercenaries. Second later, those men ceased to exist, along with most of the building they used as a shelter.

"That was a bit much, Scorch," chided their commander.

"No such thing as an overkill, Boss!" quipped the demo expert.

"Bloody jokers..." grunted a nearby clone wearing armor painted in black and gray.

The situation was FUBAR'd to hell and back. Three separate groups of Clones, sent to secure one little girl and her family until some Jedi arrived to retrieve them - it should have been a trivial exercise. Instead, the Republic troopers found themselves in a five sided running battle across the streets of Jag-Wa city.

First, the various Republic units coming for the kid. Second, some local resistance fighters who resented the blockade and partial occupation of Naboo, decided to throw a row. Then, the folks of a PMC, hired to boost security on the planet and relieve some of the pressure on the GAR ground forces, started shooting at everyone, hell bent on taking the kid too. And just to make everything even more fucked up, it turned out that a local criminal cartel had moved their stash of illegal goods near the kid's home after the blockade came into effect, so the damn criminals decided to join the party too.

Finally, a squad clad in featureless advanced armor, was making a beeline towards Delta squad's position and the VIPs they were desperately trying to keep alive, while systematically gunning down everything in their way.

=RK=

Part 3

Kay-Tap Square City

Rodia

"Nomad" flight's Navy IFF cleared the assault shuttle for landing reasonably close to their target's house. The clones disembarked and headed to their designated positions. Reaper and Farsight went to a nearby tower, which provided a good line of sight to the Dunn house. Ghost went ahead to scout, using the built in stealth features of his armor to vanish from sight.

A minute later, Soap led the rest of his team towards their target, creating a show for a few pedestrians, who stared at the Republic troopers. You can say many things for the heavy armored duo of the squad, but inconspicuous they certainly were not.

Soon enough, Soap was in front of the Dunn house, ringing the door bell, while Ghost was sneaking around the back in case of trouble. The sergeant could hear someone moving inside the house and coming closer. So the droid was right and the Dunn's were home.

He heard quiet beeping and the front door slid open. Soap's eyes widened when he saw a blaster pointing at his head. He had an instant to process the sight and throw his body into motion, before the gun fired...

A ruby colored bolt of energy flew true, straight at Soap's helmet. The sergeant saw a flash of light an instant before he hit the ground. His training kicked in and he rolled away, clearing the line of fire.

Wes wasted no time on being surprised that a civilian woman shot his commander without provocation. He took aim and pressed the trigger. The grenade launcher slung under the barrel of his carbine thumped quietly. The female Rodian was struck in the chest by a stun round, neutralizing her by sending enough current into her body to knock her out twice over.

"Sweep the house and find the kid!" ordered Doc.

In the next moment, simultaneous explosions of multiple concussion grenades rattled the house. The clones moved in, sweeping for hostiles.

At the back Ghost was about to take out his slicing kit and start dealing with the locked door, when it slid open. A robed figure holding the toddler they were after was standing in the door frame.

"Contact back! I have eyes on the target!" Ghost sub-vocalized.

"Copy that."

Bane glared at a slight shimmer in the air in front of him. He made a punching motion with his free arm activating the blaster built in his arm guard. A hail of crimson shots shredded the sleeve of his robe and swept the backyard. Two blaster bolts slammed into an invisible figure, dissipating the stealth field.

The bounty hunter snarled. The clone he shot should be dead! Instead, the man shrugged off the impacts, taking them on an until then invisible shield. Bane was sure that he would have died at that moment if it wasn't for the kid he was holding. The Rodian boy was the only reason the damn clone didn't drill him with a burst of blaster fire then and there.

Instead, the infiltrator took careful aim while Bane continued shooting at the soldier. He didn't have much choice; even more troopers were storming through the building behind him. The bounty hunter needed to take care of the man blocking his way fast and leg it while he still could.

The shield deflected four more bolts before shattering and leaving the clone vulnerable. Bane cursed and shot again a moment before Ghost pressed the trigger himself. Red energy splashed over the clone's armor, gorging the composite. He stumbled back, throwing off his aim. A burst of blue fire grazed Bane's right shoulder, instead of turning it into bloody mist. The bounty hunter hissed in pain, but didn't let the wound slow him down.

The Duros darted forward and kicked Ghost in the chest before the clone could recover from the hits. The clone was thrown to his back, giving the mercenary the opening he was looking for.

That was all Bane needed and he didn't waste the opportunity. He activated the small rocket motors in his reinforced boots and flew up, heading straight for his fighter.

"One hostile is flying away with the VIP!" Ghost hissed in pain.

While his shield and armor tanked enough punishment to kill a few clones, he didn't get out unscratched. The shots, which connected with his chest and shoulders, while stopped by the tough composite, still scorched up a bit his flesh directly under the impact points. Still, while painful, it was much better than the alternative.

"Affirmative. I have him in my sights," Reaper said.

"I have eyes on the landing pad he's headed for," added Farsight.

"Take the shot once he lands but don't hit the kid!" Soap ordered. The sergeant was back on his feet and assisting his men in sweeping the house.

"Wilco," Reaper confirmed.

=RK=

Bane landed few meters from his brand new fighter, bending his knees to help absorb the impact. He was almost home free.

The bounty hunter stood up and took a step towards his ride off the giant swamp that was Rodia, when a sledgehammer struck him from behind. He stumbled forward, falling and spilling the kid, who hit the ground hard. Though Bane noticed none of that. All his attention was taken by the blinding pain in what used to be his right shoulder. A huge chunk of it was missing. Whatever hit him almost took off his right arm entirely.

Acting on instinct, he pressed his left hand on the seared wound where his shoulder used to be, making him scream in agony.

Then his training and experience kicked in. Somehow, Bane managed to fight his way through the pain and the shock, which was beginning to numb his body.

A sniper. It had to be.

For a moment he fancied the thought of trying to grab the kid and jump into his fighter. However, that feeble hope was immediately dashed when an azure blaster bolt blew a hole in the landing pad near his head.

Bane groaned. The message was clear. Do something dumb and you die. Still, he might have risked it, if it wasn't for the familiar whine of Ion engines. He carefully rolled to his back, hissing in pain at every little jolt and pull and looked up. Two pairs of what appeared to be meaner looking Torrent fighters were circling like vultures over the closest exit of the domed city.

With him wounded, Bane didn't have any illusions that he would be able to breach the atmosphere before those fighters shot him down. If the damn sniper didn't get him first that is.

"Caught by a bunch of clones. What a kriffing disgrace!" he muttered, waiting for the soldiers to reach him.

Nearby, the Rodian kid laid clutching a broken arm to his chest, wailing for his mother.

=RK=

Jag-Wa City

Naboo

"QRF will be hire in five!" shouted the comm specialist of the platoon, which had accompanied Delta squad for the VIP extraction.

"We may not last that long!" grunted one of the clones in black and gray armor.

"Unfortunately, he's correct," added Fixer. The two squads wearing armor colored in the new pattern were an unexpected, but pleasant surprise once all hell broke loose.

"Trandosian heavies!" shouted a soldier moments before the distinctive sound of slugs screaming through the air made the cacophony of battle ever greater.

"How the hell did the locals miss someone like that?!" exclaimed the last member of Delta squad, who had taken position on a nearby balcony and was sniping the opposing forces.

If he was a lesser man, the sight of the pair of overgrown lizards, clad in crude yet fearsome armor and carrying rotary cannons, would have made him blanch. The Trandosians had appeared from a side street, missed by everyone until they opened fire on a group of Gungan rebels. Seconds later, the locals were simply gone, torn to bloody chunks by heavy slugs.

"They were either too busy playing rebel fighters or were outright bought," Scorch deadpanned.

"Won't surprise me," Boss agreed. "We need to pull out to a better position. Delta, we are keeping the VIPs safe. Targ platoon, start falling back by squads at my signal!"

"The folks in that fancy armor are tearing a new one on the PMCs. The traitors that are left on the right flank will be gone soon," said Delta's sniper.

He had a great view, allowing him to see how the strangers were taking apart the mercs, without really slowing down. They took the enemy fire on their shields and armor, and gunned down the PMC troopers like the scum they were.

"That's all and good, but we are next!" deadpanned one of the regular clones.

"Half of my people can't pull out without passing through those heavies' field of fire!" shouted Targ's Lieutenant.

"We'll deal with them. Just get your people out, now!" answered one of the men wearing the new paint pattern.

=RK=

A man armed with a heavy blaster blew apart the last mercenary in his way. Six figures clad in light power armor proceeded to annihilate a group of local rebels who had the misfortune to be in their way and fell on the next obstacle in their path – a squad of clones.

Corporal Hal had a nice view of the PMC flank. He watched as the mercs were torn asunder and knew that he and his men were next. The clone had positioned his troopers as well as their position allowed, though he was almost certain that it wouldn't be enough. His people were armed only with the standard load out, which was light weapons and some grenades. His only hope was that the few thermal detonators they had would be enough to stop the armored titans that were advancing towards their position.

It was not to be.

Heavy weapons roared, blaster carbines spat back in defiance. Thermal detonators and frag grenades flew in both directions. Hal hissed a curse when he saw the enemies move away from the immediate blast radius with speed that should have been impossible for someone who carries that much weaponry and armor.

Bright flashes robbed him from his sight for couple of seconds. When he could see again, Hal groaned. Half his men were down. As far as he could see, the horrors who were slaughtering any opposition in their path were still unscratched.

He could hear them coming closer.

A figure in gray armor appeared before Hal and he pressed the trigger of his gun. Heavy weapons spoke aloud, answered by blaster carbines.

For a moment, that little corner of the battlefield grew quiet.

The half vaporized body of Hal fell to the ground in a smoking heap of seared flesh and melted armor.

"I have the target. She is hundred and twenty meters north east from here," announced a mechanically distorted voice.

"Good. We are going in," the man leading the unknown black ops unit ordered. "Five and six, hit the clone platoon and buy us some time. The rest are with me."

=RK=

Clone sergeant Sol shot a rebel in the back and ducked back behind a half demolished wall. A simple babysitting task. Riiight...

"Lorne, Zed, flank the bastards! Well keep their attention occupied!" the NCO ordered.

Those two nodded and darted into a nearby half-demolished building, leaving the rest of their squad to deal with the two heavies.

Sol winced when one of the Trandosians concentrated on his hiding place. The sound of bullets chewing up the low wall he was using as a cover dug into his brain.

"Concussion and smoke grenades on my signal!" the Sergeant ordered in the squad net. He made a sharp signal and grenades were thrown at the slowly advancing lizards.

Seconds later, he was shaken by a series of danger-close explosions. A spread of thermal detonators had detonated, engulfing the enemy heavy troopers in a wave of scorching fire.

Sol carefully looked over his cover, just in time to see the melted and twisted remains of a rotary cannon crash on the debris covered street. There was no further sight of the two Trandosians.

From the pair he sent, only a hobbling Zed returned.

=RK=

"Fixer, cover the VIPs! Me and Scorch will provide you with cover. Go!" ordered Boss.

His subordinate grabbed the Gungan woman and dragged her and the toddler away. A sniper cracked above them, providing additional suppressive fire.

Meanwhile, squads of clones were leap-frogging backwards, in an attempt to disengage from worst of the fighting. They were moderately successful, thanks to the low level of training that most of their opponents had.

The biggest snag came when a heavily armed pair in power armor flanked the clones at the front. That stopped the attempted withdraw cold, while some of the Republic troopers tried to aid their comrades.

"Boss, hostiles on top of your position!" Sev shouted.

"Get down!" ordered the commander.

It wasn't a moment too soon. The whole front of a nearby building exploded in a rain of debris and blaster fire. Three clones from Targ platoon were too close and were torn apart. The rest of their squad followed suit moments later, however their sacrifice bought enough time for the rest of their platoon and Delta to react.

Boss rolled behind a nearby aircar, while Scorch took cover around the nearest corner.

"They might be a problem..." muttered the demo expert when he saw who exactly was attacking them.

Three men and a woman clad in what suspiciously looked like a working power armor. Each of them was carrying some kind of heavy energy weapon.

"They have shields too," added Sev. He could clearly see how a clone in standard white armor was shooting at the new threat, only for his blaster bolts to be harmlessly absorbed by a form fitting bluish field.

"That's bullshit..." whispered Boss.

Part 4

Jag-Wa City

Naboo

Sev reloaded his sniper rifle and took aim. Below him, the group of power armored enemies made no attempt to seek cover, making them easy targets. However, it didn't really matter. Their shields made the defenses of the droideka's look insignificant in comparison.

The sniper took a deep breath and gently squeezed the trigger. The weapon in his arms buckled, hitting his shoulder painfully despite the anti-recoil systems built in his gun. A green pulse of concentrated energy struck Sev's target, splashing over azure shield. Nevertheless, the sheer power of the hit staggered the man despite his power armor.

Sev wasted no time. He re-acquired his target and pressed the trigger again and again. The second shot shattered the man's shields. The third struck him in the head, couple of centimeters above his left eye socket. The helmet cracked under the tremendous stress. Its outer layer ablated in an attempt to disperse most of the hit's energy. If it wasn't for the armor's design it would have ended then and there, no matter what else the shot did. Its sheer kinetic energy should have snapped the man's neck, but the armor locked in place saving him from that fate.

However, he didn't get away unscratched. While the power armor deflected or absorbed most of the sniper's shot energy, it couldn't negate all of it. The man crumbled to the ground with cracked skull and massive concussion, taking him out of the battle.

Moment after pressing the trigger for the third time, Sev whirled around and left the balcony he used as a vantage point. He didn't wait to see what his shots did.

As it turned out it was the prudent thing to do. Two of the power armored enemies had detected his positions. They raised their heavy weapons and unleashed a hail of laser bolts and plasma upon the house where the commando disappeared.

The building materials, which the locals used proved little deterrence to the firepower unleashed onto the house. Its facade crumbled as if made of sand, while spears of energy ravaged the building's interior. Sev hissed a curse when the floor disappeared under his feet. He waved his arms, desperately trying to catch something stable. His hands clamped on a jagged piece of floor, which remained whole and attached to a nearby wall, stopping himself from falling two floors down.

The commando tried to climb up when a bolt of plasma passed him by a hair breadth. His shields overloaded and he shouted in pain as his back was seared red despite his backpack and all the equipment in it. Another close miss scalded his left hand, which convulsed in pain.

In the next instant, Sev found himself falling down, with the remains of the floor collapsing over him.

=RK=

Down on the street, the remaining members of Delta squad were frantically modding their DC-17 blasters. The versatile weapon's system was the only chance they saw against the juggernauts advancing against them.

Scorch was the first to finish refurbishing his carbine into its grenade launcher variant. He only hopped that the limited amount of ammo each of his brothers carried would be enough.

The demo expert leaned around the street corner behind which he was taking cover, took aim and shot at the closest enemy. The armored behemoth was only ten meters away and thankfully, he wasn't looking in the commando's direction. The AP grenade came as a nasty surprise for the enemy combatant. It detonated against his shields, blowing him half a meter back.

Scorch watched his target intently, while his left hand went to his harness to retrieve another grenade. However, the commando didn't have time to reload. He saw another one of the power armored assailants turn his way. A man portable cannon turned his way and Scorch darted back behind the corner. He sprinted down the side street and dived forward. A moment later, the corner of the house behind which he hid blew apart under heavy blaster fire. The blast wave shattered his shields, while various pieces of debris bombarded him, bouncing off his armor.

Meanwhile, Fixer was ushering the Gungan female and her kid down the boulevard, while he himself was moving backwards and sending his limited supply of grenades at the heavily armored strangers. Near misses battered their shields, yet they were undeterred. Fixers knew that the only reason he was still alive, was because he was close to the VIPs and the power armored soldiers wanted them alive.

Boss sent a grenade in the gut of the man who Scorch attacked, putting him down once and for all. Second later he found himself flying backwards. A burst of heavy blaster fire blew up the air car he used for cover, sending him tumbling through the air. If it wasn't for his shields tanking the brunt of the shock-wave, he would have died then and there. As it was, Delta squad's commander flew through the shattered front of a nearby shop and landed on a vegetable stand. He remained conscious long enough to feel pain spreading throughout his abused body.

Fixer's last AP grenade blew up a mere meter from the only woman in the quartet attacking them. Her shield vanished with a blue tinted flash and she was thrown to her left and fell through a shot up wall.

That left the commando to deal with the last of the power armored men... without anything that could hurt the kriffing bastard.

"Run!" Fixer shouted to his charges. He left his DC-17 fall to the ground, not bothering to try returning it into its blaster mod. The commando didn't have the time for that.

Instead, he drew his pistol, hopping to distract the behemoth for few more moments. With any luck, the VIPs would be able to evade any pursuit for few minutes, until the reinforcements got there.

Fixer managed to press the trigger four times before his enemy was able to aim his heavy weapon. He was in the middle of the street, too far from any cover that could resist the firepower he was facing. The commando sent one last blaster bolt at his nemesis, while waiting for the inevitable.

=RK=

Abandoned mining station

Mustafar

"This is all? Only two kids?!" Sidious' hologram sneered.

The two droids tending to the kidnapped children decided to keep quiet and not provoke the Sith Lord. He had expected at least four potential minions, besides the unexpected boon that was Galen Marek. However, the Jedi's reaction had been lighting fast. Unexpected even!

Who would have thought that the damn fossils on the Council would have called the GAR for help instead of sending their own? So instead of Jedi scrambling to reach the targeted kids, the initial response has been from the nearest units of the Republic army. Further, Bane had been able to retrieve only one child, the boy from Onderon, before he went missing on Rodia.

Sidious closed his eyes and concentrated. The shadow in the Force continued blocking his sight, yet despite that he could sense that it was unlikely that he would get any more children from the list. Whatever. Those two would have to do...

"Commence with the operation!" he ordered the droids.

"Master, with subjects at this age, the procedure has over fifty percent mortality rate!" declared one of the machines.

"At least one of them will make it. That would be sufficient. Proceed!" Sidious snapped. Lately his patience had been growing increasingly thin.

"As you command!" both droids answered in unison.

One of the kids caught Sidious' eyes. It was the unlucky one, whose parents tried and failed to avoid the Order's scrutiny and by extension, that of his own agents.

"Galen Marek. I sense... interesting future in front of you, my boy. I wonder what would have you done with yourself, if you remained out of my reach?"

The toddler looked at his transparent projection and waved, sending a bit of Force with his gesture.

The Sith Lord chuckled. The kid was strong. Given enough time, he might make a powerful agent.

Soon enough the operation began and agonized screams replaced the children's curiosity. By the time the Jedi could pinpoint the source of their suffering through the Force, the kids would be gone without a trace. Because once they were done, the droids packed their charges on a waiting transport and shut down the shields keeping the mining station protected from the lava river over which it was built.

=RK=

Jag-Wa City

Naboo

Fixer's visor darkened an instant before he was thrown off his feet by an overpressure wave. If it wasn't for the sound dampeners built in his helmet he was sure he would be deaf right now.

When he could see again, a large section of the street where the power armored bastard was standing, was simply gone along with what had left of the facades of the nearby buildings. The ground under him shuddered again and again as heavy weaponry unleashed its fury upon the defenseless city.

"I love air support!" Scorch shouted in the squad's net.

Fixer shook his head and glanced up. There was no sight of friendly craft... besides stilettos of blue and green light, which touched various parts of the city from the sky. The commando grinned. So much for the damn power armor! It won't do much for the kriffing bastards, while the Republic had uncontested air superiority over the city!

"Delta squad, sound off!" Fixer ordered. This wasn't the time to watch the fireworks. They still had a job to do.

"I'm alive!" declared Scorch.

The demo expert's words were followed by conspicuous silence.

"Damn it! Boss? Sev? You two alive?" Fixer asked.

"I have eyes on Boss. He looks banged up, but I think he's alive!" said Scorch. "No sight of Sev."

"Take care of him and search for Sev. I'll get the VIPs out of here."

=RK=

"All Strike elements, sound off!" a female voice growled on the power armored commandos net.

The only reason she was still alive was because of that AP grenade, which threw her through a wall, thus keeping her out of sight of the enemy air support. Strike One, their unit's nominal commander wasn't that lucky. She saw him being blown to tiny pieces by a fighter's laser cannon.

"This is Five. I'm still alive. Orders?"

"The mission is a bust. We are getting out of here. Exit three."

"Wilco, Two. See you on the other side."

The woman with call sign Two, who when off duty was known as Lieutenant Romelia Vance, checked the mini map on her HUD display. The IFF markers of all but two of her Unit were silent. Only Three and Five could be seen. Though she was unsure if Three was still alive after being shot in the head by that damn sniper. Granted, their armor was tough, but that was a bit beyond what it was usually rated against.

She closed her eyes for a moment. Many of her friends had just died on this ill-advised op. She wondered who was the idiot that conceived and approved it. Romelia would love to have a little "chat" with that person.

If she made it out in one piece, which was her priority right now.

She needed to keep out of the streets or risk being nailed by the enemy air assets. That's why after checking her map for the second time, Two charged through the walls of the house in which she had ended.

Luckily, most of the surviving clones were too busy tending for their wounded as well as the civilians caught in the cross fire. That or shooting up the remains of the fools that made this ill thought op into a five sided fight.

Moments later, Vance had to dart across a side alley. Once she reached the end of her cover she glanced up. Smoke and soot obscured the sky, but that wouldn't be too big a problem for the enemy fighters. Without anything resembling decent ECM active in the city, the Republic air assets didn't have to rely on visual targeting or struggle with degraded sensors.

She dashed through the alley and plunged through the wall of the closest building on the other side. Then through second and third wall. All thanks to a barrage of laser bolts, which lit up the house he just left, blowing it up sky high.

If it wasn't for her armor, Two would be on the ground, dying from multiple internal contusions. Instead, she only felt like on big, tender bruise.

Romelia groaned and picked herself up. She glanced at the map and allowed herself to feel a bit of hope. She was almost there! She demolished her way through another row of houses and smiled. In front of her were houses built onto the river bisecting the city. Around the buildings she could see multiple places where the river could be accessed by the locals.

Vance wasted no more time and sprinted forward. She jumped and plunged into the water, letting the weight of her armor to drag her down. She checked her map and activated the built in thrusters of her outfit, heading towards a stealth submarine, which was waiting for the survivors of Strike One. Once inside, she sent a series of scrambled codes towards the armors of her fallen comrades.

=RK=

Three, was unlucky. It looked like that the surviving clones and various other enemies, had decided to make their life's mission to get him. Every time the commando thought that he broke contact, he ran straight into another armed group. Republic troopers, mercenaries, outlaws even what appeared to be rebels... It was a bloody madness!

An enemy fighter strafed the street where he was moments ago, demolishing the fronts of all nearby buildings. Three ran through someone's living room, only to find himself face to face with a pair of Duros wielding blaster pistols. They stared at him for a moment, before raising their weapons. The commando decided not to waste ammo on them and without slowing down, he simply bludgeoned the pair with the barrel of his blaster cannon.

Three darted out of the building a second before it was disintegrated by an air strike. The shock wave picked him up and hurled his armored form down a nearby street. All the while he somehow remained conscious, though dazzled. The commando idly noted that the clones were really pissed off, because they were demolishing the city without carrying about collateral damage in order to get him. Though the presence of rebels in the settlement might have had something to do with that...

Some time later, Three shook himself. He was laying on an open street with no convenient cover in sight. A bunch of LAATs were heading in his direction. His armor was warning him that he was locked on by multiple targeting sensors.

He glanced around. There was no sight of his weapon, though it wasn't a big loss. If he tried something, the weapons mounted on those assault transports would cut him to ribbons, power armor or not.

"Two, won't make it. Leave ASAP!" he muttered in Strike One's net.

"Affirmative," his friend whispered in her comm.

Three returned his attention to the enemy gunships. A pair floated couple of hundred meters away, pointing all their weapons in his direction, while behind them, transports were unloading squads of clones.

He sneered at the Republic's soldiers of choice. The damn clones were a disgrace!

Three sent a series of commands through his implants. A moment later, crimson warnings obscured his vision, covering most of his HUD.

"For the True Republic!" he whispered.

Two almost simultaneous explosions shook Jag-Wa, marking the self immolation of the fallen Strike One.

When the dust settled, the Republic search parties would be able to recover only one heavily damaged power armor, in which the self destruct mechanism had failed.

=RK=

General Valentra's Office

GAR Headquarters / location classified/

Coruscant

"Now, that we've finished with most present matters..." Valentra trailed off, while looking at a data pad. "Can someone tell me, who exactly deployed working prototypes of power armor against our forces on Naboo earlier today?"

"Unknown. Our own R&D is at least few months away from testing the prototypes. At least the exo-skeletons are ready for field testing and should work as a stop-gap measure if we face power armor in numbers before our own is ready," the Director of SIB.

"Did we recover at least one of those suits?" asked Veil.

"One. Heavily damaged. It will be dispatched for Coruscant at first opportunity."

"With a strong escort, I hope," the Director of ONI added.

"That goes without saying," Valentra confirmed.

"Now on another topic, I understand that you'll be visiting Corellia soon, General Veil?" Ivon inquired.

"That's the plan. I'll be heading there once the Jedi Council gets around to Windu's trial."

Most people in the room winced at the mention of the Jedi Master's name. His stunts had come close to starting a civil war between the Jedi and the Republic armed forces. Who in turn weren't thrilled that a high ranked Jedi tried to arrest their acting commander in chief during a crisis. Without a cause to make the mess even bigger.

Needless to say, the outcome of the impending trial was something in which certain circles within the Republic military and civilian leadership were very interesting. One of the many reasons why, was that it had the potential to heal (or make almost unbridgeable) the growing rift between many of the Jedi Generals and the Republic soldiers.

The Intel chiefs looked at each other.

"General, while on Corellia, we would like you to inquire about certain matters with the system's leadership, and Senator Bel Iblis in particular..."

"Indeed?" asked the General. They had his undivided attention.