C4P4

"What's going on?" Anakin demanded, grabbing ahold of a nearby trooper. The confusion and despair was rampant, even as he took in the chaos that had replaced the victorious feeling as the clones overwhelmed and dismantled the remaining droid presence within Tipoca City.

As raw his emotions had left him upon seeing Padme injured, his senses were still capable of alerting him that something was terribly wrong.

"It's the Pride of the Core, General!" said the trooper breathlessly, his voice wild with fear and despair. "The Separatists took over the ship and have it on a collision course to the City! We're evacuating as many people as we can…"

The clone trooper trailed off, shoulders slumping as he stared dumbly into the chaotic masses of troopers rushing about.

"...Have faith, trooper," Anakin said, his voice hollow. "We'll pull through with this."

"I...I...yes, sir," the trooper said as he stood a little straighter, his voice a little stronger. "Excuse me, I have to…"

Anakin nodded, face set in determination...or stone. "Yes, of course."

As the trooper quickly walked away, Anakin couldn't help but feel the despair begin welling up in him. First Padme and now this. It was like the universe wanted to punish him and turn all his successes into ash.

Perhaps the Force truly did have a terrible sense of humor.

"Anakin!"

He turned wearily around at the sound of Obi-wan's voice. His former Master looked worse for the wear, minute scorches of near misses from blaster bolts and half-melted slashes from near-fatal cuts of lightsaber combat covered his armor.

"Obi-wan," he replied wearily. "What's the plan?"

The older man gazed at him with an unreadable expression before pursing his lips. "I'm ordering a general evacuation. We have less than an hour to get everyone off the city before the Pride of the Core crashes."

"Are you sure there isn't anything we can do?" demanded the other Jed.

"Unless you want to try your hand at stopping that battleship from crashing with the Force, no."

Anakin stared at Obi-wan with an incredulous expression for a moment. Obi-wan returned his stare levelly before exasperation filled his face.

"Anakin, no."

"If we lose Tipoca City, we will so much closer to losing this war, Obi-wan." Anakin said, choosing his words carefully, determined to win his old mentor and brother over. "You know this. We cannot lose Kamino. We can't lose these clones. I made a promise-!"

"You'll have to break that promise, Anakin!" cried the older Jedi in exasperation, as he grabbed him by the shoulders. "There's no way we can possibly even begin to attempt-!"

Anakin shrugged the grip off and stared into Obiwan's eyes.

"Master Yoda has a saying he likes to give to the younglings; what was it? Do, do not try."

The older Jedi closed his eyes as though attempting to ward away a decidedly painful headache. "I am quite sure that that adage has no bearing on the situation at hand."

"There you are!"

They both turn as Shaak'ti approached them at rapid pace. "There has been a complication. We do not have enough transports to even begin a full evacuation of the city."

"Can't Yularen spare any?" demanded Obi-wan.

She turned her lidded eyes towards him, frustration clear on her face. "He is trying to. But the Pride of the Core's weapon systems have also been hijacked. They are forced to deploy them from beyond the battleship's range of fire; but droid-controlled fighters keep intercepting them. Time of arrival is approximately forty minutes."

Obiwan turned to glance at Anakin.

"Then… then there is no time to lose." Obi-wan said, his face hardening.

"What do you mean?" Shaak'ti asked, looking at them both in surprise.

"He means," Anakin declared, face set and eyes narrowed in determination. "That we are going to stop the Pride of the Core with the Force."

-

"You are in need of medical attention, madam senator," said the droid insistently. "Your injuries are extensive."

"My injuries are the least of my concern," Padme groused as she struggled to stand on her own.

"But the possibility of damaging the fragile fetuses in your state-"

With a groan, she managed to swing a leg over, muscles protesting. Then she froze as the words registered.

"F-fetuses?"

The medical droid nodded frantically. "Yes, madam senator, according to preliminary readings, you are approximately six weeks pregnant. There appears to be...ma'am, are you alright? You are breathing erratically."

Padme was short of breath. The shock of discovering she was pregnant, on top of everything she had gone through was just too much for her. Her pale face grew flushed as she tried to breathe but failed.

The medical droid reacted instantly, grabbing another droid. "The senator is going into shock, I need a breathing mask stat! Prep treatment, pure oxygen canister now!"

She closed her eyes as an oxygen mask was pressed onto her lips, pure oxygen forced into her lungs. She took a deep breath and let herself drift away amid the shouting.

-

Obi-wan inhaled deeply, the feeling of the Force familiar as it coursed through his body, calming his nerves and revitalizing his strength. He gathered that strength, feeding it into himself and the two Jedi next to him. Anakin on his left, Shaak'ti on his right.

Through the Force, he could feel Anakin's emotions, boiling underneath the surface of calm. Tightly bound and hidden underneath a veil of durasteel. Worry, sadness, anger, self-loathing were prominent amongst those feelings. He extended a tendril of power to his student, his friend, his brother.

Anakin felt his compassion and accepted it, calming as it weaved through his senses and strengthened him. The boiling ocean underneath him calmed somewhat, but it still toiled. Despite it all, the older Jedi could feel Anakin's determination grow as the young man stubbornly marshaled himself.

On the other side, Master Shaak'ti was the complete opposite. She was like the open sky, calm and serene. But Kenobi knew this woman well and he could taste the subtle undercurrent of nervousness. He extended another tendril of calm and support.

She hesitated, but accepted it and instantly, the bond strengthened.

With supports in place, the Jedi moved as one and raised a hand outwards towards the open sea sky above.

-

Though he argued for this, Anakin was unnerved with how surreal it was to join his mind with Obi-wan and Shaak'ti. It was like exposing his bare soul to them, despite locking away the turmoil deep inside of him, and yet at the same time, it was exhilarating.

With Obi-wan's reassurance, he had harnessed his will and focused his power. When Obi-wan and Shaak'ti moved, he moved.

Almost instantly, he could see the Pride, her massive form cutting through the sky like a terrible arrowhead of doom; ready to smash through the ocean and end the world.

He directed his attention to the engines, which were firing at full burn. His eyes saw through the layers of cortosis and durasteel as technical knowledge of years of tinkering and flying ships came through for him. With a merely thought, the main reactor's power was snuffed, backups smothered, and the controls wrestled away.

Almost at once, the entire frame shuddered as it's engines flickered furiously for a second and died. It's speed slowed dramatically, but it would not be enough.

'Halt.'

He found his grip. Obi-wan held the stern. Shaak'ti the aft. And himself at the bow.

'Halt.'

The ship faltered as it suddenly began to deaccelerate. Through the Force, he could feel parts of it's superstructure crumple from the stress of suddenly slowing.

'Slowly.'

Anakin held firm, his breathing coming slowly as Obi-wan placed a steady thought on him. He drew on the Force once more and began to push.

The Pride of the Core shuddered as it began to slow even further, visibly so. It seemed to glide sluggishly, as though flying through an invisible viscous space. But it was still doing so at dozens of kilometers a minute.

'It will not hold.' came Master Shaak'ti's voice, whispering. 'We cannot hold.'

'It will hold,' he said, once again drawing on the Force. 'We have to do it. We have come this far. We cannot fail now!'

'Anakin, hold the bow and make another push on my mark.' Obi-wan's mental voice washed over them, the Jedi Master's will be struggling to marshal his strength. 'Shaak'ti and I will lift the sides. Now!'

There was an audible crack as dozens of rents opened up along all sides of the dreadnought. It's progressed crawled to a standstill as it's bow dipped for a moment.

'I cannot do it,' murmured Shaak'ti, her will faltering. 'It is too heavy!'

Anakin turned towards and his will marshaled once more. He lent her his strength and she gasped at the sensation of power coursing through her mind. Her will, once waning, returned greater than ever.

'We can do it, Master.' He whispered, bring all he was to bare. 'We are so close!'

Together with sweat glistening on his faces, they slowly raised their hands.

-

Asajj watched Grievous gurgled angrily from his harness as medical droids swarmed all over him. His chassis was completely ruined and judging from the blood steadily leaking out of the sack an organ or two had likely been ruptured.

She herself was still composing herself after the battle, having meditated for a brief period as her ship went into a short hyperspace jump to a safe rendezvous point.

The battle had been a single unmitigated success. Yes, there had been complications, but even with the loss of the entire fleet, the cost was nothing compared to the damage they done. If nothing else, they had overachieved all secondary objectives and outright succeeded on the primary objective to disable the production of further clone troopers.

A strategic success in other words. A decisive victory that all but ensured Separatist, and by extension Sith, dominion over the Republic and the Jedi. But it was not because of her own undeniable skill or Grievous' battle tactics.

She had not been the one to achieve this. Grievous had not been the one to achieve this. Her little droid commander had done it all, by himself.

711 had guessed everything correctly, refitting his ships for anti-fighter duty, deploying drop pods en masse to distract Republic forces from the false debris. Plans upon plans, deceptions within deceptions. He was the reason for this single most unrivaled success in the Sith Grand Plan.

She owed everything of her own success to 711, and Ventress didn't know what to feel with that knowledge.

Yes, she was grateful. 711 supported her unconditionally, though Asajj had wondered how much of it was out of self-preservation.

But the droid's continued successes was a disturbing trend. 711 was exceedingly capable in battle, leading multiple engagements and decisively winning them one after another. There were Tactical and Commander droids that did the same, yes; but unlike them 711 had intuition. He had the capability to predict and adapt to sudden and unexpected variables.

How did he come about? Ventress never questioned his existence; she had no reason so before. He just simply...fallen into her lap and she used him to rise through the ranks of the Sith Acolytes.

So now, she found herself thinking of the implications of this latest success.