Chapter 37: Reconnaissance

Something here was wrong. Every sense I had was practically screaming it. But I couldn't put my finger on what it was.

We had been deployed in the forest three hours ago and were slowly advancing toward the designated coordinates. Everything seemed quiet and peaceful. Perhaps even too peaceful.

"Everyone, halt."

The column froze. I could sense a wave of faint surprise radiating from the stormtroopers. But I couldn't help myself; I had grown too accustomed to trusting my instincts.

"Sir, what are your orders?"

"No word from the scouts?"

"Negative, sir."

"Have you tried hailing them?"

"Yes, sir, but they aren't responding to our signal."

"Find a suitable spot for a temporary encampment. I'm going ahead. Ignore any orders that do not come from me or the Commander-in-Chief. Prepare one of the speeders."

"Understood, sir."

A few minutes later, we reached a vantage point. The soldiers set to work, erecting temporary shelters, posting sentries, and establishing heavy repeating blaster nests. The precautions weren't redundant; we were in enemy territory, after all. Even if they didn't fully control it anymore, it was better to be safe.

If anything happened, there would be no reinforcements. Our nearest positions were dozens of kilometers away. We were on our own.

Amidst the bustle, a pair of troopers quickly checked the status of my 74-Z speeder bike. Once satisfied there were no issues, they rolled it over to me.

"Everything is ready, sir. Tank is full, no technical faults detected."

"Excellent. Keep the others warmed up; we might need them soon."

"Right away, sir."

No longer looking at my soldiers, I tried to center myself. Flying through a dense forest at several hundred kilometers per hour required absolute focus and the guidance of the Force.

With a faint hum, the machine bolted forward. My consciousness perceived the passing tree trunks only as variables to be accounted for. The Force acted as a calming influence, guiding my movements and allowing me to react to threats in time.

It took roughly an hour to reach the designated site. According to Command, this was where we were supposed to establish our primary base camp.

I spent a few minutes camouflaging the speeder. While the overgrown brush partially hid it, it wasn't enough. Only when I was certain it couldn't be spotted at a glance did I feel satisfied with my work.

From here, I could reach the points of interest on foot. Yes, it would take more time, but I'd rather face several enemies while standing on my own two feet than be forced to bail out of a high-speed speeder into the unknown. Paranoia? Maybe, but here, over-caution was a virtue.

I had three objectives. First, our camp site itself, which I would investigate first. Then, I needed to discover what happened to the scouts. Ten well-trained soldiers don't just miss a scheduled comms check for no reason. And finally, I wanted to survey the upcoming battlefield.

The thick branches and undergrowth provided reliable cover for my crouched form as I crept toward the clearing. Approaching cautiously, I scanned for anything out of the ordinary. But nothing raised any red flags, it was an entirely mundane forest clearing with a small stream running through it. Indistinguishable from dozens of others.

The grass looked as if it hadn't been stepped on in years, the water was clear, and there were no strange scents. I might be paranoid, but the thought that there might be a traitor, or several, within our ranks forced me to double-check everything.

Until now, we had operated largely in isolation from other units. Our missions were local—important, but not global. If there was sabotage elsewhere, we had remained untouched, acting mostly on our own discretion and ignoring the directives of our out-of-touch superiors.

But the situation had changed. We were a key element in one of the largest operations of this war. Now would be the perfect time to ruin everything for us.

Thirty minutes of scouting the clearing yielded nothing. The Force offered no warnings of imminent danger. Yet, that oppressive feeling of wrongness hadn't left me; it had been haunting me since the drop.

Not wanting to step out from the tree line, I slipped back into the shadows and, with a smooth, nearly silent gait, headed toward my second objective.

Even though the scouts operated in pairs, they had a designated rally point. Naturally, as their commander, I knew where it was. Every detail like that was cleared through me.

The rally point was several kilometers from our main site, so the trek took about two hours. Without the Force whispering the best paths through fallen timber and marshy hollows, it could have easily taken four.

Through the massive trunks, I could see the speeder bikes, but there was no sign of the scouts. Even reaching out with the Force didn't help locate them. Something was definitely wrong.

For twenty minutes, I scrutinized the surrounding woods. Only my caution saved me from walking into a trap.

The sun peeked through the clouds for a brief moment, cutting through the perpetual gloom of the forest floor.

In a spot that appeared to be nothing more than scattered branches and small shrubs, there was a distinct glint of metal. It lasted only a second, but it was enough. There were droids here.

That meant my scouts were either dead or captured. The Separatists had left a squad behind in case anyone else showed up. A coincidence, or were we sold out? But by whom? We hadn't coordinated this in advance, so it was either a stormtrooper or a fluke.

Could droids have stumbled upon a pair of scouts and tracked them back to the rally point? Possible. If there was a massive army nearby, there would be sentries.

Right? So, how many had they caught?

I couldn't see clearly through the trees, but at least six speeders were there. That meant at most four men had either escaped or hadn't returned yet.

I pressed myself against a large tree trunk. Best not to be seen.

"Commander, do you copy?"

My only answer was the hiss of static.

Now, that was interesting. I could clearly see the bikes were powered down, meaning their jammers couldn't be active. The conclusion? There was something else nearby, something large or very powerful, jamming the signal.

My thoughts were interrupted by an approaching hum. Two figures on speeders flickered through the trees, blending into the background. They were closing in on the rally point, and they were too far for me to warn them of the ambush. We were separated by several hundred meters.

Time was slipping away like sand through my fingers. Hoping they wouldn't be killed the moment they entered the kill zone was foolish. I doubted stormtroopers would be stunned for interrogation.

There was only one option.

With a Force-enhanced leap, I closed the distance. The clearing was still dozens of meters away. I had to guarantee I got the attention of those metal freaks.

Then, three things happened almost simultaneously.

A crimson blade ignited, cutting through the forest's twilight.

Commando droids, previously hidden behind foliage, rose to their full height and began opening fire on the incoming stormtroopers.

One of the troopers in green camo veered sharply to the side, disappearing into the brush. The other, in a frantic move, gunned the throttle to the max and bailed from his speeder. He tried to bleed off the inertia with a roll, but failed.

The ruthless laws of physics caught him, hurtling him toward certain death. At the last moment, I used the Force to arrest his momentum before he slammed into a tree, an impact that likely would have been fatal. Even so, I saw his arm hanging limply at a sickening angle.

A second later, a brilliant explosion lit up the clearing.

It was followed immediately by several smaller pops. A pillar of fire erupted, igniting everything nearby. Apparently, the parked vehicles had gone up. I watched droids being tossed in every direction as the blast set the nearby trees ablaze.

A few shards of metal hung suspended in front of my face, caught in the Force shield that had saved my life more than once.

Time was short. The explosion would be clearly visible in the gathering dusk. We had maybe two minutes before "clanker" reinforcements arrived.

The stormtrooper's head lolled from side to side. He was clearly concussed by the blast wave.

"Hey, soldier! Can you hear me? How many fingers am I holding up?"

His only response was an incoherent mumble.

"Dammit!"

Pulling a couple of stim-stabs from my kit, I jammed them into an exposed patch of his neck. It should help him snap out of it quickly. Regardless, we had to move.

Maneuvering through the trees while supporting his weight with the Force was too taxing. Eventually, I just hauled him onto my shoulders. Surprised that he felt lighter than expected, I pushed my speed to the limit.

Only after we were several kilometers away did I allow myself to set him down.

The trooper, who had apparently been holding it together until then, yanked off his helmet and retched.

"Sorry, pal. There was no time to stabilize you. You should feel better in a moment."

I flowed a bit of Force energy through him and administered one more injection. I might not be a full-fledged Healer, but I knew the basics. Combined with the medicine, it should do the trick.

Sure enough, the clone stopped retching within a few minutes. Crawling a few paces away, he slumped onto his back and stared at the sky with glazed eyes.

"You can court-martial me right now, sir. But I'm not moving for at least five minutes."

"Right, I saved your life just to kill you myself. Makes perfect sense."

"Well, you never know. My last CO wouldn't have hesitated."

"We do things differently here. Now, business. What did you see out there? Do you think the ambush was just a coincidence?"

"No." His gaze sharpened. "Something's not right. There are droids, but not nearly enough to stop our army's advance. We couldn't get a detailed look before the Leader ordered us back to the rally point. But the phrasing was different from the standard code, so we decided to be careful."

"Not much to go on."

"True, but to keep their secret, they sent two dozen commando droids to liquidate us."

"Fair point. There's definitely something there. Here's what we'll do: You take my speeder and head back to our positions. I'll give you the coordinates. Give them my order to hold position. Tell them to double the patrols and try to raise HQ. Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Let's keep moving. Feeling better?"

"I'll manage."

"Then move out."

…

A few hours later, I was once again crouched behind a tree, watching the scorched clearing through night-vision goggles. I had sent the trooper back to camp and decided to double-check the scouts' rally point. It was a good thing I did.

Something fascinating was unfolding.

Several dozen droids of an unknown model were practically scouring the ground, searching in the dark for pieces of their fallen comrades.

They had also established a full perimeter. If not for my vigilance, I could have easily tripped over one of the B1s stationed in the brush.

Finally, one of the searchers straightened up, holding the scorched, dented head of a commando droid.

"Final unit recovered. Returning."

"Roger, roger."

"Roger, roger."

The missing part was placed onto a repulsor-sled. I was amazed they were recovering every single scrap; through my macrobinoculars, I could see them picking up individual finger joints.

The droids formed a tight column around the sled and began marching in an unknown direction, and, of course, right past me. Where else would they go?

I practically pressed myself into the tree roots, trying to become one with the terrain. It was a good thing these searchers didn't have thermal sensors, or I would have been made.

Peeking out for a second, I watched the cargo platform pass just meters away. One of the severed legs looked like it was about to vibrate off the edge.

Should I risk it? I was dying to know what made these commando droids so special.

The Force decided for me. The sled hit a bump as a droid tripped over a root. A small jolt, and the part fell off.

"Watch where you're going, bucket-brain."

"Sorry, my optical sensors are glitching."

"Keep moving."

"Roger, roger."

While the mechanical idiots bickered, the object was silently pulled toward me.

I realized it was something unusual the moment my fingers touched the surface. It wasn't metal. It was something else, rougher to the touch, almost fibrous. A new development?

Deciding to save the analysis for later, I carefully shadowed the departing enemies.

Tracking them in the twilight was difficult. Staying a hundred meters back while trying not to lose the column was a challenge. If not for the clatter of the marching droids, I would have lost them.

We moved like this for about thirty minutes until we reached the edge of the forest. Without slowing down, the column marched out onto a vast, open field and vanished into the darkness after a few minutes.

And there I was, sitting in a tree like a fool, wondering what to do next. My tailing had ended in nothing. Stepping out of the shadows and onto the open field was definitely not in the plan, but staying here was a dead end.

I tried to hail my squad again, no luck. Something was still jamming all signals.

I spent an hour positioned behind a tree, trying to see or understand anything. But no, there was only an impenetrable wall of night. That was what bothered me more with every passing minute. According to our intel, there should be a massive army here—artillery, a fortress, heavy armor. Where was it all? They couldn't have just vanished.

The silence of the night was shattered by the roar of starfighters cutting through the dark sky. Tiny specks of light, barely visible against the stars, approached rapidly. When they were within five kilometers, I managed to see through my macrobinoculars that these weren't just combat craft. A shuttle was gliding down, flanked by an escort.

And where are you going to land? Or are you just passing through?

I was glad I stayed. The convoy descended rapidly, intending to land. For a second, landing lights flared in the darkness...

Holy mother of... You've got to be kidding me!

******

"Greetings, my dear friend."

The commander of the Empire's ground forces sat comfortably in his wide chair. An entire house had been requisitioned for his personal use, and he was currently alone with the hologram of his benefactor. The Death Troopers who always guarded his quarters had been sent away on a manufactured pretext.

"Please, enough of that."

The unknown individual was shrouded in a cloak; his face was impossible to see, but that wasn't necessary. What mattered more than his appearance was the information he could provide.

From the first days of the war, this stranger had supplied the commander with intelligence that was almost always correct. It was only because of this data that they had been able to advance.

"I trust you have good news for me again."

"Indeed. Have I ever provided you with incorrect information?"

"Forgive me, my friend. Do not think I doubt your word."

"It is quite alright. A man of your position and talents is entitled to a certain degree of doubt. Personally, I do not understand how you could have been sidelined to the fringes of the Imperial system."

Pudgy hands that had never known manual labor clenched into fists. The speaker had touched a deep wound in the heart of the officer, who sincerely believed himself a military genius.

"But I believe together, we can prove to everyone how wrong they were."

"You are right, and for that, I shall grant you my favor. If not for your advice, I would not have successfully pulled off several operations or managed to displace my dim-witted brother from this post. But we digress. What do you have for me today?"

"The Separatists do not suspect the coming attack. They cannot even fathom that you could get as close to their positions as you have."

"And that is our shared triumph! With my brilliant plan and your data, we shall crush the enemy!"

Swept up in his own excitement, the officer began waving his hand as if striking an invisible foe.

"Yes, you are right. That is exactly how we shall destroy the enemy..."