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Force Exile I: Fugitive/Part 1

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The Republic Star Destroyer Redoubt surged forward through the blackness of space. An 1137-meter long dagger-shaped vessel bristling with turbolasers, laser cannon batteries, and proton torpedo launchers, Redoubt pointed towards its target, the Outer Rim planet of Boz Pity. The warship was one of the lead vessels of a sizable armada that had been dispatched by Supreme Chancellor Palpatine to break through the Confederate blockade of Boz Pity. A Venator-class Star Destroyer, its primary role was that of fleet flagship, providing orders to the rest of the fleet while lending its heavy firepower and large complement of smaller craft and ground troops to the fray. Alongside Redoubt, other vessels of various classes, ranging from medium cruisers to tiny single-seat starfighters, all bearing the

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The Republic Star Destroyer Redoubt surged forward through the blackness of space. An 1137-meter long dagger-shaped vessel bristling with turbolasers, laser cannon batteries, and proton torpedo launchers, Redoubt pointed towards its target, the Outer Rim planet of Boz Pity. The warship was one of the lead vessels of a sizable armada that had been dispatched by Supreme Chancellor Palpatine to break through the Confederate blockade of Boz Pity. A Venator-class Star Destroyer, its primary role was that of fleet flagship, providing orders to the rest of the fleet while lending its heavy firepower and large complement of smaller craft and ground troops to the fray. Alongside Redoubt, other vessels of various classes, ranging from medium cruisers to tiny single-seat starfighters, all bearing the insignia of the Galactic Republic, similarly approached the planet, preparing for what awaited them there. It was the third year of the galaxy spanning Clone Wars, and the Separatist navy was in orbit over Boz Pity in full force. The world, a temperate, pleasant planet long known among galactic archaeologists for its strange formations, ruins, and monuments, was soon to become the next major battleground between the Republic and the Separatists. Having been used as a staging area by the Confederacy, the Republic now sought to deny its use to their opponents while eliminating some of the key leadership of the Confederacy, rumored to be sequestered on the surface. However, their goals would not be easily accomplished. Over one hundred Separatist warships of various types and sizes were assembled over the planet, waiting for the approaching Republic ships in a clash of steel titans. On the bridge of the Redoubt, a lone figure, clad in simple brown and white robes, paced up and down the metal deck, separate from the uniformed crewers. Selusda Kraen, Jedi Padawan, was preparing for his first real pitched space battle of the Clone Wars. Normally known as Selu, he was rather average in stature and height for a human, his coppery skin still largely smooth and unscarred from youth and inexperience. There was nothing impressive about him physically; most Jedi his age towered over him and outweighed him. Nor was there anything special that many saw in his face, framed by black hair, pulled back behind his head, or his brown eyes. He had been too young to accompany the group of two hundred Jedi led by Master Windu to Geonosis in the opening engagement of the war. Now, at the tender age of nineteen standard years, he was drawn into battle. As klaxons blared across the ship, he headed for the massive hangar bay of the Venator-class Destroyer. Scrambling into the cockpit of his Delta-7 Aethersprite starfighter, he ran through his checklist as the bubble canopy sealed over his head. The wedge-shaped craft whined to life as Selu brought it to full readiness. Both the repulsorlift and sublight ion engines responded well according to the built-in astromech droid, while his shields and laser cannons similarly lit up green on their respective readouts on the console. He was ready, or so he hoped. “Control, this is Commander Kraen. Checklist complete- permission to launch?” “Commander, this is Control. You are cleared to launch.” Easing the craft up on its repulsorlifts, Selusda deftly brought the fighter out of its hangar, and maneuvered it into position alongside his master Plo Koon’s craft, ahead of the Star Destroyer. Despite his lack of distinction among Jedi his age, Selu was fortunate to have Plo Koon, a Kel Dor Jedi Master and member of the Jedi Council, as his master, and he constantly sought to show himself worthy of such a prominent mentor. Kicking the sublight drives into full power, master and apprentice flew in tight formation towards the planet. Already, the opposing capital ships had started trading ranging shots, sending streams of colored energy back and forth between them. In the distance from their viewports, tiny specks that soon resolved into the ominous shapes of Vulture droids and tri-fighters, the standard Confederacy front-line starfighters. Hurtling along at high speeds, the pair weaved and spun through the neatly symmetrical droid formations, lasers flashing, leaving scattered pieces of war machinery behind. “Break starboard, Padawan,” called the Kel Dor Jedi as he put action to words. “Yes, Master,” replied Selu, yanking on the control yoke and veering his craft to starboard. Behind them, clouds of Separatist droid starfighters engaged in furious dogfights with Republic clone and Jedi pilots while the lumbering capital ships and nimble gunships re-enacted similar maneuvers on a larger scale. As the Republic fighters cleared a corridor through the blockade towards Boz Pity, another Star Destroyer winked into existence, startlingly close to the two Jedi pilots. “Whoa! What destroyer is that?” queried Selusda. “The Intervention. It’s all part of the plan.” “But why did they come out of hyperspace so close to the planet? That commander must be insane!” “It was Anakin Skywalker’s doing. He is in command of that ship.” The new arrival became the immediate target of Separatist intervention as streams of massed turbolaser fire and salvos of proton torpedoes began heading towards the destroyer. The beleaguered ship answered with its batteries even as it broke through the blockade towards the surface, spitting out its own cluster of smaller craft even as its hazy blue shields flickered from the many hits they were sustaining. “They won’t make it, Master.” In his cockpit, Plo Koon signaled the captain of the Redoubt. “Captain Wessex, you are in command of the Redoubt. We are going to assist General Skywalker. Engage hostile forces at will.” “As ordered, Master Koon. Wessex out.” Spiraling his fighter into a sharp evasive maneuver, Plo Koon wove a complex pattern through the Separatist blockade. Selu saw what he was doing, and, allowing the Force to flow through him, mimicked the maneuver closely, firing upon targets of opportunity. With the precognitive abilities and ultra-keen reflexes afforded to Jedi pilots, the Master and Padawan penetrated the blockade in the wake of the rapidly disintegrating Intervention. A pair of Vulture droid starfighters, vectored in by their droid brains, followed them closely, sending starbursts of laser fire past Selu’s cockpit. Several glancing hits by the automata sent up warning lights on Selu’s shield console. “Master, I’m hit.” “Hang on Selu. I’ll deal with these nuisances.” In his cockpit, Plo Koon tapped into the wellspring of power that was the Force to the Kel Dor Jedi Master, funneling it into telekinesis. Reaching across the bounds of time and space with invisible tendrils of energy, the Jedi Master sent the two droid fighters careening into each other, resulting in a rather desultory explosion as they impacted. Farther ahead, Selusda saw another Jedi fighter in its own oddly beautiful Force-assisted path of laser fire, explosions, and debris. Saesee Tiin, considered an expert pilot even among Jedi, was blazing a path through the droids alongside the Intervention, even as massive turbolaser bolts rippled into still-intact shields, melted hull armor and blasted chunks of the ship open to space. His wingmate, the equally adept Jedi Master Adi Gallia, similarly burned a streak of destruction and droid parts, punctuated by the flash of lasers. Selusda was startled from his brief reverie by the streak of a massive proton torpedo across his bow, heading for the Intervention. Flipping the Aethersprite on its side and turning hard to port, he triggered his dual laser cannons three times, connecting with the missile on the second burst. Reuniting with Koon, Selusda and his master vectored off of the massive Star Destroyer, which under the constant punishment it had received, was starting to break up. Their comm boards lit up with a signal from Anakin Skywalker. “All escape pods and fighters launch. This is Skywalker. My ship is breaking up- we’ll meet on the surface. Any cover you can provide would be welcome.” “Copy that,” Plo Koon and Saesee Tiin called. As the small craft, laden with crew, troops, and infantry fled, the Intervention began its plunge into the atmosphere. Even as the battle continued in space overhead, a new front was soon to be opened on the surface of Boz Pity. The quiet world, mostly grasslands and hills pockmarked with ruins, was soon to be covered with a new surface feature as pieces of war machinery landed on the surface. As the escape pods and other small craft began descending towards Boz Pity, Selusda and Plo Koon wove through the clear blue sky, intercepting droid fighters. As they spread out to engage the scattered droids harassing the descending troops, Selusda suddenly noticed a trio of landers being harassed by a group of tri-fighters. Giving chase, he rolled onto the tail of one fighter, and fired a series of laser blasts, scoring the war droid heavily along one side. The damaged fighter, trailing smoke and fire, fell through the atmosphere, eventually gouging a fiery crater in Boz Pity’s verdant surface. However, as Selusda blasted the second fighter, its programmed mind put it through a series of evasive maneuvers. Then, linked by coordinating computerized attack programs, it dove towards one of the landers, firing its main lasers, with Selu hard on its tail. As it finished the attack run, the droid vectored to port. As Selusda followed, two more tri-fighters swooped up from behind and started firing on him. “I have a bad feeling about this . . .” Selusda muttered as he desperately tried to evade their fire. He was preparing to throw all power into sublights and try to out-turn the droids when he noticed another pair of droids descending on an already-damaged lander. Tapped into the Force, he had a flash of precognition—those droids would destroy the lander and dozen-and-a-half crew on board if they were not stopped. Continuing his evasive dance, Selusda brought his craft on an intercept vector and began firing at maximum range. He was rewarded as both the droids blossomed into fireballs from his lasers—until he looked the damage readout on his fighter and the accompanying red lights. The chasing tri-fighters had also been scoring hits, and the Aethersprite was falling apart. Fighting the sluggish controls, Selu desperately tried to pull out of the steep dive, but the engines and repulsorlifts had been damaged, so he managed to pull into a somewhat shallow dive through the atmosphere. At 2000 meters altitude, he began to ease the canopy open, only to find that it was stuck, the control lines shot away. Taking one hand off the control yoke in a risky maneuver, he concentrated, thrusting the free hand towards the cockpit in an attempt to shove off or break the canopy. Selusda softly cursed his lack of control as he continued to focus, although a cynical voice inside him reminded him that even a Jedi Master might have some difficulty using the Force while piloting a burning wreck. 700 meters…600 meter …still stuck! …500 meters, and then with a jerky motion, the wave of invisible Force energy pushed the canopy off. At the scarce altitude of twenty meters, Selusda tossed a small pack out of the cockpit and jumped out. On his way down, he used the Force to slow himself and call his pack to him. Upon impact, he tucked into a ball and rolled to lessen the shock, though the wind was still driven out of him. A few dozen meters away, his starfighter crashed and exploded in an orange fireball. As Selusda slowly got up, he realized two things: he was going to be incredibly sore the next morning, and that he was alone, behind enemy lines. As he reached for the comlink on his belt, another realization reached him: His comlink, hastily clipped on, was missing. All around him, endless stretches of green grass-covered plains and darker colored rocky slopes were evident, dotted with the occasional ancient stone ruin protruding from the landscape off in the distance. He was alone, with no way to summon rescue. Elsewhere on the planet On another one of Boz Pity’s many grassy slopes, a somewhat battered escape pod was being unloaded by a group of crewers from the Intervention, while a small knot of white-armored soldiers with blaster rifles and full helmets made a small defensive perimeter and the rest of the personnel prepared to transfer their gear and supplies to a recently established forward outpost. One of them, distinguished from the others by the shoulder pauldron and kama, in addition to the much more battered and scratched armor that marked his position, was an ARC trooper, the elite branch of the Grand Army of the Republic. Though known officially by the designation Alpha-28, the trooper had earned the name Spectre for his mastery of stealth and ambush tactics. A chime sounded in his helmet, indicating that he was receiving a holographic comlink message. He tapped a button on his left gauntlet, and a miniature version of Jedi Master Plo Koon appeared. “Captain Alpha-28 reporting for duty, General Koon.” “At ease, Captain. I have a mission for you and your group. My Padawan, Selusda, is missing. I believe he crash-landed somewhere near you.” Inwardly, Spectre snorted. Jedi apprentices had become notorious in ARC minds for causing all sorts of trouble, especially having to be rescued or getting themselves killed. But, orders were orders. “Is the general sure he’s still alive?” “Yes, I am certain of it. I would have felt his death.” “Where was he last seen, General?” “He crashed within a hundred kilometers northwest of your position.” “Begging your pardon, sir, but what was he doing up there? That’s closer to Separatist positions and far from the main landing zones.” “I’m not exactly sure. Last I saw him, he was engaging some fighters threatening some of the other landers.” Spectre’s level of appreciation for the “Jedi brat” was elevated a notch or two. From the viewport of his own transport, he had seen the starfighter intercept the harassing tri-fighters, but hadn’t seen the result of the outcome. More than likely, despite the vaunted Master’s Force skills, it had been a noble self-sacrifice at the cost of the Padawan’s life. Jedi. Still, it was his duty, even if that meant tracking down a corpse. “All right, sir. I’ll find him.” On the other end of the link, Plo Koon was momentarily taken aback by the ARC’s resolve to venture alone, but he remembered that they worked better alone anyway. “As you wish, Captain. May the Force be with you.” Alpha-28 grabbed some extra rations, water, and a clip of spare blaster packs and shoved them into a field pack. Slinging it over his shoulder, he appropriated a pair of macrobinoculars and, finally, a belt of grenades. Satisfied with his WESTAR-M5 blaster rifle, DC-17 hand blaster, and the rest of his kit, he turned command over to the next highest in rank among the clones, a sergeant, and headed off in the general direction. It would be a long, hard, lonely search, riddled with battle droids, headaches, and whatever unpleasant flora and fauna were on the planet, but Alpha-28 was an ARC. They craved challenge and thrived on impossible missions. Three days later Selusda pulled out his small flask of water and held it to his mouth, draining the last few drops inside. He had been hiking through fairly rough terrain constantly, and had not found any sources of water. He’d run out of ration cubes the day before and wasn’t exactly sure what native plants were edible. Looking up at the sky, he noticed the increasing cloud cover and felt the steadily increasing wind. It was going to be a cold day. Pulling his cloak tighter around him, he continued hiking through the knee-high grass that was ubiquitous on Boz Pity. However, he was not lost. It was a rare day when he was, and even rarer if he actually forgot something. Selusda smiled, thinking of the number of times his incredibly high memory retention rate had helped him in his relatively short life, and marched on. At least the Separatists hadn’t sent their irritating droids after him yet. A few hours later, as the sky continued to darken, the danger sense afforded to him by his Jedi training began tingling. Stretching out with his senses, he felt the vibrations in the earth caused by repulsorlift engines. Squinting, in the distance, he spotted four slender vehicles heading his way. Running the image through his memory, he identified them as Single Trooper Aerial Platforms, or STAPs. Crewed by a battle droid and armed with a decent-sized pair of blasters, they were fast, deadly reconnaissance craft. As the droids approached, Selusda yanked his lightsaber off his belt, and set himself, right leg forward, knee slightly bent, with his left leg swept behind him and to his left. His lightsaber was held in a two-handed vertical grip, with the hilt held close to the right side of his body. Thumbing the activation trigger, he held the dull gray hilt steady as a column of coherent green light appeared from his weapon. The droids closed rapidly, firing their blasters at the Jedi Padawan. Selusda worked his blade through a series of rapid motions, sending the scarlet energy bolts bouncing off his energy blade. The droids circled around him, preparing to overwhelm him from two sides. Not good, but not untenable. It was time to go on offense. As the droids broke into pairs for a second pass, Selusda called on the Force and vaulted into the air towards the pair on his right. The droids traversed their weapons and fired at him, but he was moving far too fast and unpredictably as he flew, which was fortunate, for he had little hope of deflecting any of their shots while occupied in controlling his descent. One of the shots singed his left shoulder, charring his cloak and leaving a nasty trail of slightly scorched flesh, and then Selusda landed directly on the foremost STAP. With a sweep of his green blade, he sliced the top half of the speeder and its droid pilot off. As the speeder fell, Selusda threw himself into another Force-assisted leap, spinning and twisting in the air to avoid the second droid’s fire. This short leap, scarcely two meters long, landed him on the ground right below the second STAP. As he landed, he finished his horizontal jung su ma rotation with a wide sweep that took out the craft’s engines, bringing it crashing down. A short stab later, and the droid pilot was sparking scrap. Meanwhile the second set of STAPs was now firing at him, more spread out to avoid being caught in the same trap as the first set. Selusda deflected a few more of the blaster bolts, but, as the droids approached, he decided to use a different weapon. Drawing on the Force, he felt the moving metal shapes that comprised the STAPs and sent one of them hurtling into the other in awkward mimicry of Plo Koon’s earlier move against the droid starfighters. The resulting explosion as both of them crashed into the ground was not very impressive, but reassured him that the attack was over. Unfortunately, Selusda knew that more droids would come. And since the briefing he remembered with perfect clarity had mentioned a strong possibility that General Grievous, the dreaded droid commander and Jedi killer, was on the planet, Selusda knew that a lone Jedi would be of especial importance to Grievous, who reportedly killed Jedi for fun and collected their lightsabers as grisly trophies. Selusda quickened his pace, hoping to reach someone, anyone friendly before more droids came. He had no desire to duel Grievous, knowing he would lose and quite badly at that. The Separatist menace had defeated numerous Jedi more skilled than he, a fact Selu knew well. As evening approached, Selusda knew that even Jedi couldn’t run all day without sleep. Settling down for a long, hungry night, he extended his Jedi perceptions to sense any disturbances headed his way and, wrapped in his cloak, tried to fall asleep. Lying on the cold, hard ground, his mind strayed out of its physical realms, hurtling along the surface of Boz Pity. He felt the deaths of clones in combat many kilometers distant, engaged in combat against mindless droids, felt the glimmer of his Master’s presence in the Force. He sent him a mental reassurance, but then his mind flashed by the bright spot in the Force that was Plo Koon. He sensed the brilliant aura of Anakin Skywalker, the determined mind of Obi-Wan Kenobi. Suddenly, his consciousness was pulled away from Boz Pity into the murkiness of space. Thousands of worlds, with millions and billions of inhabitants flashed through his mind. Time lost all significance. His thoughts swirled, finally coalescing into the sights of Coruscant, to the temple that had been his home as long as he could remember. As Selusda watched, he saw the Jedi Temple, burning, darkened, invaded, violated, desecrated. The smell of fresh blood and ozone was heavy in the air, and little fires burned in the majestic pillars of the main hall. Jedi were being betrayed, being killed, being slaughtered by white-armored clones. Horrified, he saw himself standing in the library, lightsaber still at his side as a clone trooper came around the corner, blaster rifle raised, his finger pulling the trigger. Suddenly, the vision was gone, triggered by some twitch in the Force, and Selusda’s eyes flew open to see the helmeted visage of a clone trooper kneeling over him, blaster ready. “Nooooo!!!!” Selusda screamed. He had no chance of drawing his lightsaber before the clone shot him, so he punched the trooper with the Force as hard as possible, sending him flying, and jumped up, blade lit and ready for battle. However, the trooper, though he slowly got up, made no move to fire at him, and Selusda’s senses returned to him. He deactivated his saber. “Who are you?” he demanded tensely. Somewhat slowly, the clone responded. “ARC trooper Alpha-28, Grand Army of the Republic. Commander Kraen, I presume?” “Yes, that’s me. What are you doing here?” “General Koon sent me to find you. My orders are to conduct you back to the forward base camp.” “Oh.” Taken aback, Selusda realized that his Force push had thrown the trooper several meters and had probably bruised him. “Sorry about that. You surprised me. Are you hurt?” “No sir. I’m fit to fight.” Selusda suppressed a smile, recalling the briefing he had received about the clone troopers and their ranks. According to several reputable sources, ARCs would say that even if they had just been attacked by a pack of angry neks. “You’re a captain, aren’t you?” “Yes, sir.” “What’s your name, Captain?” Despite the soreness he knew he felt and would feel the next day from the Force shove, Alpha-28 smiled inside. Jedi, of all people, treated clones the most like “normal” humans. Not that Alpha-28 thought of himself as normal. “Spectre, sir.” “Well, Captain Spectre, it looks like we’ll be spending some time together. So, you don’t call me Commander. I’m Selu.” “As you wish, sir.” “I just have one other thing to ask you, Spectre.” “Yes, sir?” “Do you have anything to eat or drink? I’m starved.” Spectre chuckled and passed Selusda a couple ration cubes and a spare flask of water as they stopped for a brief respite before continuing their march. They passed through wide expanses of rolling plains, intermingled with rocky ridges studded with boulders that allowed them to see for kilometers in any direction, always careful to stay under cover from any patrolling droids. If there were any sizable fauna on the world, they stayed clear of the two humans. As the sun set in a glorious riot of purples, oranges, and crimsons, the ARC and Padawan settled in for a brief snatch of sleep before continuing the inexorable rhythm of their march through the wilds of Boz Pity.