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A Young Girl's War Between the Stars 102 3 3 BBY/ 9 6 7 GSC. Naboo Conflict +23 days. Naboo. My helmet's cameras zoomed in on the droid formations currently making their way through a narrow valley surrounded on either side by steep walls. Glancing up to the walls in question, I didn't spot the Mando teams waiting for the order to go—which was good, because if I could spot them, so could the enemy, and we didn't want them figuring out something was wrong until it was far too late for them to do anything about it.

Instead of landing anywhere near Theed or one of the other major cities on Naboo, and putting their transports and troops in range of the anti-air defenses, the TradeFed forces had made landfall on the western side of the largest continent—a little over three thousand miles away. From there, they had begun their slow, tireless march inexorably eastward. Never stopping to sleep, eat, or rest. Detouring around obstacles like an endless stream of ants.

At their average marching speed of about four miles per hour given the terrain and Naboo's twenty-six hour days, it would take them about thirty days to reach Theed—give or take a couple of days. It had been nine days since Trade Federation ships arrived en masse to retake the system and Naboo. Eight days since they had begun successfully landing troops when their numbers overwhelmed our own ships in system and we simply didn't have the numbers to keep them all occupied.

Our ships in orbit were destroying theirs at a decent pace and they had yet to even severely damage one of ours, but more arrived every other day or so now to replace their numbers and our own reinforcements weren't due in for another day or two at least. The line of droid troops stretched over six hundred miles. They were a shifting ribbon of durasteel across the country now visible from space.

In the days immediately after destroying the enemy fleet over Theed, my people had taken stock of what our new captured Lucrehulks had been loaded with so we would have a better idea of what to expect before sending those off to Mandalore for processing. The two we had captured had been fully loaded with troops and materiel, and the numbers weren't good. Each Lucrehulk we'd captured carried: Fifteen hundred Vulture droids.

Fifty C-9979 landing craft in three different configurations—one for troops, one for materiel, and one for both. Troop configured C-9979s could carry up to twenty-five hundred B1 battle droids and droidekas—what my troops had immediately nicknamed 'rollie boys.' Mixed configuration carriers were set up to move about one hundred and fifty combat vehicles, with some flex space for either more troops or another few vehicles, or other equipment—usually ammunition and fuel.

Five hundred and fifty Multi-troop Transports, or MTTs, each capable of carrying a rack of a hundred and twelve B1s—which seemed to be the standard rack size for a unit. Those would come down in the C-9979s. Fifteen hundred Platoon Attack Craft, or PACs—each of which could carry a rack of B1s. Also to be brought down by the transports. Six thousand, two hundred and fifty Armored Assault Tanks—AATs.

Medium sized repulsor tanks armed with a heavy laser cannon, two repeating blaster cannons, two light blaster cannons, and six energy shell launchers. A nd then there was their troop complement: three hundred and fifty thousand B1 battle droids and several thousand droidekas. I had done the math and it was daunting. Even just sixteen of those C-9979s dedicated to troops translated forty thousand troops per load.

Between thirty-two of them carrying at least partial loads of troops, it was closer to sixty thousand troops plus everything they would need. Per load. In practice, when the first reinforcements arrived and began unloading troops and gear, it had only taken about ten full loads to completely empty out one of those Lucrehulks. And while the C-9979s were big and very good at moving troops and materiel, they were slow—only maintaining about three hundred miles per hour air speed in atmosphere.

It took them hours to get down, disgorge their loads, and return to their mother ships. But again, they were droids. They were tireless. They executed their tasks with mechanical precision and efficiency. And they just kept coming. By comparison, I had only a thousand Mandos on planet with me at the moment while we were waiting for our clone troop reinforcements.

With the proper tactics and superior maneuverability, it's more than enough, I mused, checking the time and the placement of the head of the line of enemy troops below. The continent Theed was on had several mountain ranges that stretched from north to south, but the largest was one that stretched east to west and bisected the country— comparable to the Andes and dividing the prairies to the north from the swamps to the south.

The one the enemy were crossing through now was a north/south range more along the lines of the Alps that cut off the northern half of the continent from the west coast. Predicting the enemy's choice of route was as easy as looking at a map, or at the planet from space.

With their terrain options either wide, open prairies they could make good time across but with no real cover for over a thousand miles, or extremely difficult, swampy wetlands with abundant cover to the south, they had chosen to go north and risk exposure over getting literally bogged down. From there, it was easy enough to direct their movements.

We had encouraged the enemy to divert to this specific pass using a combination of downed trees and forest fires—controlled burns with firebreaks that would funnel them into the murder hole we'd prepared for them. Now, the valley was full of clankers making their way through. It wasn't long enough to trap but a small fraction of their army, but it would force them to reconsider.

To pull back, reassess, and decide whether they wanted to try again or move on to another pass—where we could hit them again a different way. It wasn't meant to be a killing blow—just a delaying tactic until our reinforcements arrived, and a training exercise for the Mandos to get some experience dealing with the Federation army. I looked back to our signalman up on the peak of the mountain behind us and gave the go ahead.

We weren't using radios or conventional comms at the moment, to avoid spooking the bots if they caught a whiff of a signal. Instead, we were relying on laser tightbeam comms for long range and mostly hand signals for short range. The woman nodded, signing 'okay.' She tapped away at the control interface for the small laser broadcast array mounted on a tripod and facing out to the north—aimed miles and miles away towards the horizon, where a receiver at the small air strip my men had made was waiting.

A moment later, she signed, 'incoming, two minutes.' I didn't need to signal anything else. My people knew the plan. So, I settled in to wait. A little under two minutes later, my helmet's enhanced audio picked up the whine of bomber engines streaking in. Picking up the first detonator, I armed it, then flipped up the safety cover and thumbed the switch. Down below, the first set of explosives in the valley went off, directly under a section of ten AATs.

I smiled as I watched the tanks achieve liftoff and my men began setting off the other explosives in the valley. A moment later, my helmet pinged incoming fliers. Turning, I spotted the bombers, the helmet zooming in to identify them and give me a count. Five flights of five yellow and gray Lancer -class ships raced into the mouth of the valley.

While Lancers were normally used as pursuit and patrol craft, when the time came to start turning out new fighters and other ships, we put together a list of roles and compared it to what we already had. The Fang -class fighter was a new design and it did very well in its role. But that thing had been in R&D for years before the first ones rolled off the assembly lin e. We didn't have the kind of time it would take to design and test new ships for every role we needed.

That led to a bit of reuse and, frankly, theft. My Rusted Silver wasn't the only advanced GAT-12 flying around anymore. Cindy had contributed the new and improved design to the war effort and they were now turning them out as a multi-role ship—filling the job of system patrol, heavy fighter, interceptor, long term recon, and other tasks. The Lancer -class was similarly repurposed for a multitude of roles. Among those was bomber.

It was bigger than the advanced GAT-12, and its limited cargo space had been converted into racks for ordnance. These were carrying loads of proton bombs—which glowed bright blue as they left the launchers on the underside of the Lancers and fell into the enemy army below, before flashing brightly as they exploded. Battle droids were scattered like bowling pins, where they weren't blasted apart or incinerated the closer they were to the epicenter of the explosions. In between explosions, my audio pickup registered…

screams, and I raised an eyebrow, wondering what kind of lunatic programmed battle droids to have a fear response before putting it out of my mind. It wasn't my problem. Even the heavily armored AATs stood no chance as our bombers hammered the shit out of them, destroying them by the score. The mountain trembled below me as the shockwaves rattled my bones and made a dull thump in my chest cavity, even through my armor.

My face hurt from smiling as I watched the Lancers peel off before they reached the opposite end of the valley, heading back over the mountains and staying low so as to avoid enemy AA fire. Down below, what was left of the enemy were already beginning to reorganize, so I signaled the finishing touch.

"All teams: blow it and evac." The men around me stood and engaged their jetpacks, launching over the peaks of the mountains and down the other side. I took to the air and watched as men on the other side of the mountain did likewise. Then, the explosives on top of the mountains went off and I got to watch as tons of rock, dirt, and snow buried the valley and everything still inside it. Turning, I followed the men down the mountain, only to pause as my comms beeped.

Seeing it was Asajj, and since we were no longer operating under radio silence, I answered.

"Master, the Jedi delegation is coming down," she said without waiting for me to respond. Humming, I asked, "Who did they send?"

"Master Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan." I had suspected they would, but there was always the off chance that Grandmaster Yoda or Master Windu could come, or they might send someone more neutral. From a political perspective, this was perhaps one of the best possible options. I trusted Master Qui-Gon not to engage in any Mind Trickery on Padme or any other subterfuge and to represent the Republic side as impartially as he could. He also wouldn't go out of his way to antagonize me.

Personally though, I was a little conflicted about Obi being there and having to sit opposite them at the negotiation table. It's politics. Keep personal business and feelings out of it.

"I see. I'll be there soon," I acknowledged. Spotting Allaya, I sent a message.

"We're leaving to return to Theed." I felt her disappointment as I flew closer and she obediently turned for the Rusted Silver, parked below the canopy several miles away, jetpack whining as she fell into formation and we left the rest of the Mandos behind.

"Do I really have to go, Master? It's gonna be boring."

"Negotiations will start soon. If you're going to take your mother's place one day, you need to get experience with this sort of thing," I reminded. Allaya huffed out a sigh.

"Fine. I guess." Keying up on the general frequency, I alerted the group to the change in situation and told them to update me as soon as they knew which way the enemy army was going to move, as we descended on the position of my ship and entered via the hatch. I was very much hoping the TradeFed army would make the mistake of pulling back and trying to go further north.

If we let them get enough troops out into the open, the complete lack of cover or concealment would allow our bombers to strike from well outside their anti-air reprisal range, letting them drop bombs from high altitude and even opening them up to fire from the ship mounted railguns. I was sure they could be spared for a few fire missions and as long as they dialed back the power, Padme wouldn't get too upset about leaving some new terrain features in the middle of nowhere.

Ultimately, they would be left with either choosing to let us harass them with impunity, or move to the south and enter the swamps, opening up all sorts of other complications—from environmental damage due to water and mud, to the local flora and fauna. Not to mention all the traps we could lay! Yes, if we convinced them to risk the swamp, that would be ideal.

We could turn a month long march across the continent into a months long battle of attrition through a hostile environment actively fighting them for every inch of ground they wanted to take that we could turn into our own nightmare playground. … And maybe I still had some lingering feelings about Space Vietnam— that is, Felucia—to work out and would enjoy sharing my trauma with the enemy army. It was only a shame they were droids and couldn't fully appreciate the experience."

Master, you're getting that look," Allaya murmured from the copilot's seat as we took off, rapidly climbing and switching on the stealth suite to avoid surprises, as the enemy had seeded anti-air emplacements via drop pods all across the continent, all the way up to the border of Theed. Going exo-atmospheric was still a risk though, as a detection would guarantee the enemy would fire on us—but I had been doing flights like this for a while now and so far the enemy hadn't caught on, so I wasn't terribly worried.

I sent the redhead a raised eyebrow.

"And what 'look' would that be?" Allaya sent me a particularly dead eyed stare.

"The one you get right before doing something to give someone nightmares." Rolling my eyes, I turned back to the control panel.

"I don't have a look—""You definitely do!" she accused. Deciding to rile her up, I smiled.

"Perhaps I was just thinking about what sort of training I'll be having you do next." The redhead twitched, before glaring at me.

"You don't scare me," Allaya grumbled.

"You make us do crazy stuff, but you'd never actually let us get hurt." She paused, then frowned and scratched absently at her stomach before amend ing, "On accident." Chuckling, I reached over and ruffled her hair.

"Good. Then I take it you're ready for the next stage of your training?" Allaya eyed me with caution, even as she perked up in her seat.

"What is it?"

"Mm… Well, we've got all these live fire training dummies. It would be a shame if you didn't get to use them. I hope you've been practicing your targeting and shielding formulas."

"… Why?" she asked, radiating nervous energy.

"I'm thinking we're going to be practicing sniping, along with tactical HALO insertion and exfiltration exercises." If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. Allaya looked confused.

"Huh? Can I get that in basic?"

"High Altitude Low Opening. You've got jetpacks instead of parachutes, but it's the same principle. Fly over the enemy lines, jump out of a ship or plane, and either land behind enemy lines and sabotage them from the rear or in your case, drop directly into anything that looks like a strategic target and eliminate it and get out." Allaya sent me an incredulous look.

"You want me to just drop in on a bunch of droids, blast them, and run away?!"

"Not just you. Asajj will be with you," I clarified. She stared at me for a few moments before the fear went away and her look turned considering, as she radiated interest.

"You're not going to screw with us again and try to attack us yourself, are you?" I shook my head.

"No. The two of you will be going in alone," I lied. Obviously, I would be right behind them, invisible and hidden in the Force. I wasn't willing to let them get in over their heads in case they ran across something they couldn't handle, or things just went wrong. But I needed them to think they were alone, specifically so they faced the danger themselves, without the perceived safety net of their Master. That, and success 'alone' would do more to boost their confidence than if I walked them through it.

I just needed to give them a target and some loosely worded objectives, then hang around and watch to see how they handled it. I put the thought from my mind for the moment and settled into the flight back to Theed. Eventually, I brought us back down into atmosphere and down over the water, outside the range of any enemy AA that might have moved into place overnight and hadn't been dealt with by either my people or the locals, before dropping the stealth and flying in.

I turned my IFF on long enough for ground control to acknowledge before shutting it off again, as I brought us in over the city and straight to the royal palace, touching down in a hangar full of N-1 starfighters. The hatch opened and we stepped out, closing it up again and heading towards where I felt Asajj and the others—only to pause as my holocom chimed. Fishing it out of my pocket, I stopped and cast a bubble of silence around us before answering.

"Capt. Keen. Sitrep?" The woman's lips curled into a brief smile.

"Mandalore. The enemy fleet is in position." I grinned." Excellent~. Commence Operation Death Throes."

"Roger that. Beginning operation."

"I'll be in a meeting for the rest of the evening, most likely. You have my permission to call and let me know how it goes." Aylin smirked.

"You mean give you a reprieve from dealing with politics?"" Yes," I agreed easily.

"That is exactly what I mean. Please give your Mandalore an excuse to take a break from what is certain to be a tedious series of arguments going around in circles."

"A pain I know all too well," she murmured.

"Very well. I'll come to your rescue."" Thank you. Good hunting," I nodded, cutting off the comms and slipping it back in my pocket, before dismissing the bubble and continuing out of the hangar. By now, the royal guard didn't bother stopping us as we made our way through the palace and had pretty much accepted our presence as expected—which was kind of sloppy, if I was being honest. What if someone with ill intent just strolled right in wearing a suit of armor stolen off of a dead Mando?

I made a mental note to speak with Padme's new head of security about it later. Eventually, we came to the meeting room where Padme conducted her less private meetings. The royal guards were posted outside the door—a good indicator she was inside even if I couldn't sense everyone behind those doors. They stood aside as I pulled open the doors with the Force and Allaya and I entered, closing them behind us the same way.

Sitting around the table were Padme in her queenly robes, Master Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, Asajj standing in for me, and another neimoidian representative from the Trade Federation while Bo leaned against the wall behind and to the side of the queen with her hands crossed over her chest. Nearby were three of Padme's handmaidens, nearly identical to the girl herself, just waiting for a command from their queen. Qui-Gon smiled and stood as we entered, offering his hand.

"Tanya, good to see you again."

"You as well," I nodded as we clasped hands. A moment later, he was replaced by Obi giving me a somewhat stilted hug, radiating a variety of emotions I explicitly blocked out for how uncomfortably awkward they were.

"What is this? You know each other?" the TradeFed representative demanded.

"I demand—""No," I cut the demand off, moving to take my seat as Allaya sat on the other side of Asajj. I was seated on the far side of the rectangular table from Padme, putting Qui-Gon to my right and the TradeFed representative to my left.

"Moving on."

"But— You can't—" Queen Amidala cleared her throat, shutting the neimoidian down as Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan took their seats.

"Master Qui-Gon, while We appreciate that you've come to help at the behest of the Jedi Order, We do have to question why. And why now? As you can see," she gestured at where I sat with my Padawans, " We already have Jedi helping to mediate negotiations between Naboo and the Trade Federation." Master Qui-Gon nodded, even as he frowned.

"Yes, the High Council is aware. The Senate—" I cleared my throat." Republic Senate held a vote after your broadcast. The Order were asked to intervene on behalf of the Republic, to do what we can to resolve the conflict with the Federation and then to ensure that Naboo does not secede from the Republic." P adme frowned.

"Unfortunately for the Republic Senate, it is too little, too late. We have already left and joined the Confederacy." Qui-Gon shook his head slowly.

"The Senate held another vote while we were in transit to Naboo. They have voted to refuse to acknowledge the legitimacy of the Separatist movement and any worlds leaving the Republic. As far as they are concerned, Naboo is still a member state." The young queen's face may as well have been carved from marble, but I felt her annoyance from where I sat.

"Naboo is a sovereign state. We have the right to leave the Republic if We so wish and the Senate will acknowledge that. Otherwise, We can ignore the Senate just as they have ignored Us."

"That is a matter to discuss with the Senate themselves. They requested that you travel to Coruscant and meet with them within the month." Padme shook her head.

"We will not be doing that. I don't know if you noticed the fleets overhead on your way down Master Qui-Gon, but Naboo is at war. Until that situation is resolved, We will not be leaving the planet unless it is absolutely necessary."

"And that brings us neatly to the more pressing issue," I spoke up, drawing their attention for a moment before I pointed at the TradeFed rep.

"Any debate over whether Naboo is a member of the Republic or a member of the Confederacy is purely academic at the moment, with an enemy fleet overhead and an invasion force having put metaphorical boots on the ground. The Confederation of Independent Systems has an ongoing contract with Naboo and any negotiations with the Republic are off the table until the Republic does their jobs and sends a fleet to remove the Federation or we do it for them.

No negotiations until the Trade Federation are kicked off of Naboo and out of the system. I imagine that whoever actually gets the job done and removes the Federation from Nabooian space will be the one to win Naboo's loyalty in the end. You should send that message back to your Senate."

"It is the opinion of the Trade Federation that we have a valid claim on Naboo," the neimoidian put in.

"It is our facilities and equipment that harvest the plasma from the planet. Our ships that transport it. Our trade network that distributes it. Naboo is trillions of credits in debt to the Trade Federation—""Which We would not be, if your Trade Federation had honored their end of the original agreement with Naboo and sold us the equipment and facilities instead of leasing them. If the Trade Federation didn't refuse to teach native Nabooians how to operate the equipment, claiming 'trade secrets.'

If you did not use your control over the plasma production and refining process and your trade network to set the prices of plasma, then charge us ruinous prices for the privilege of transporting it via that trade network," the Queen cut in, her voice sharp.

"The debt is entirely manufactured on your end as a means of keeping Naboo under your control and We will not stand for it any longer. We have declared the debt null and void as you are in breach of contract." The neimoidian gave an oily smile, radiating smug amusement as he said, "Perhaps. Perhaps not. That is up for a court to decide.

Any such dispute would have to be arbitrated in a court within Trade Federation territory—"" Where your arbitrators in your court will decide that Naboo is in the wrong and fine them for their trouble?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. T he neimoidian shrugged.

"No one can say for certain what will happen." Qui-Gon hummed, before nodding.

"Then let us begin there. Do we have copies of the original documents? I would like to read over them and verify that claim before proceeding."

"We can procure our copies—" Padme lifted a hand and one of the handmaidens hurried from the room.

"No need. We have the original, unedited contracts here." The TradeFed rep scoffed.

"'Unedited?' I assure you, the Trade Federation are above such base trickery."

"I'm sure," I muttered. Qui-Gon ignored the byplay and I felt him reaching out with the Force—much more subtly than I would.

"While we are reviewing the original contracts and in negotiations, perhaps we could agree to a cease fire?" The neimoidian considered it for a moment, stroking his chin, before that oily smile returned." Of course we can—"" And give you a chance to land and move more troops? I think not," I denied.

"Any ceasefire would be contingent upon the condition that your forces stop landing troops and your ground troops shut down entirely and remain in place while negotiations are ongoing."" And leave them open to a dishonorable attack? Allow you to sabotage them while they are vulnerable? Absolutely not!" Qui-Gon looked to me, before asking, "Perhaps if the Confederate forces would agree not to sabotage your troops and maintain a minimum distance from them?"

Crossing my arms, I frowned, glaring at the TradeFed rep as I pretended to consider it. After a few moments, I gave a slow nod.

"I can agree to those conditions, so long as mine are met." I would, of course, honor any such agreement exactly as much as the Trade Federation did. …In other words, I fully expected the perfidious shits to try to pull a fast one and was going to return the favor. The neimoidian considered for another minute before schooling his expression, even as I felt him lying.

"We can agree to such terms. If you would write up the terms of the cease fire, Master Jedi?"

"Excellent," Qui-Gon smiled.

"Let's do that now, in fact."

"When would the cease-fire go into effect?" I asked, and Qui-Gon looked up from where one of the handmaidens had handed him a tablet.

"As soon as it is signed," he answered, sending me a suspicious look. I smiled.

"Take your time." Qui-Gon did not, in fact, take his time. He began typing rapidly as the TradeFed rep paled, demanding, "What have you done?!"

"I answered a call five minutes before I entered the room, where I gave the go ahead on a plan that was set in place weeks ago," I shrugged, leaning back in my chair. The ambassador took out his holocom and began trying to dial out, only for it to inform him that whoever he was calling couldn't be reached.

"They can't come to the phone right now. Too busy being dead, I imagine."" You, that was an entire fleet! Surely someone—ah ha!" the ambassador cheered as someone picked up. A neimoidian captain, by the looks of things. Smoke filled the holocom field of view and they could hear electrical sparks and alarms in the background.

"Captain! What is going on up there?!"" It was a trap! The Lucrehulks we thought were dead. When our orbit drew close, they bombarded us with missiles. Thousands of them launched from too close for electronic warfare to disable them. Our point defenses were overwhelmed. Eighty percent of the fleet was wiped out and the Confederate ships are picking off the survivors now. We have to leave!" Turning his gaze on Qui-Gon, the ambassador demanded, "How much longer?"

"Just a few moments," the Jedi answered absently. Nodding, he turned back to the feed.

"Hold out a few moments longer. We are about to declare a ceasefire." Slowly, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my holocom. I met the ambassador's eyes and held his gaze as I called Capt. Keen back.

"Capt. Keen. Status on Operation Death Throes?"

"Near complete success, ma'am. Roughly eighty percent of the enemy fleet was destroyed. The rest were either outside of the immediate area of the missile barrage, or were within range but have suffered damage. Not enough to disable them, but they're hurting. We're chasing down the rest now."

"Good," I nodded, as Qui-Gon slid the tablet across the table to the ambassador, who quickly signed. As soon as he was able, he slid the tablet down the table to me.

"One moment," I told her, before taking the tablet up and taking my time to read through it, line by line. I could feel the frustration rolling off the ambassador as I read, buying my people a little more time to get in just a bit more damage." One more thing, ma'am. Most of the damaged Lucrehulks were damaged enough that when the enemy retaliated, they broke up and look like they're going to burn up on reentry," Capt. Keen continued.

I paused at that, looking up to send her a curious look, which made the neimoidian ambassador twitch and his anxiety shoot through the roof." Most of them?"" Yes, ma'am. Two of the ships look intact enough to survive reentry. They should make impact with the planet soon."

"Projected point of impact?" I asked, wanting to make sure it wasn't going to hit anything important. Capt. Keen looked at a screen on her side of the transmission.

"According to our maps… The foothills of the Gallo Mountains, in a swamp. Both should impact relatively close to each other. The reactors were still active, so there's a good chance that they'll detonate on impact." Padme frowned at that and I felt a brief moment of confusion and uncertainty from her, as though she were trying to remember something she had forgotten, before it was gone. Just to be sure, I asked, "Any cities nearby?"

"Negative. It's uninhabited. No structures for hundreds of miles—" Finally, unable to stand it any longer, the Trade Federation ambassador yelled, " Stop stalling and sign the ceasefire!"" If I sign this ceasefire, my ships are to immediately cease all fire missions. That means we won't be allowed to intercept your two falling hunks of junk and stop them from damaging miles of Nabooian land."" We cannot stand for more negligent destruction of our planet," Queen Amidala shook her head.

"If those ships impact the planet, the Trade Federation must compensate us for the damage incurred." I nodded.

"You heard her, ambassador. I want your agreement, in writing, that the Trade Federation will compensate Naboo for any damage—"" Yes, yes! Here!" the neimoidian took out his own tablet and quickly typed out an agreement, before signing it.

"There! Sign them! Just stop shooting our ships down! Do you have any idea how much a Lucrehulk costs?! They're going to throw me out an airlock for losing this many resources!" Nodding, I quickly signed both.

"Capt. Keen, new orders. A ceasefire is now in effect. The fleet is to immediately cease attacking all Trade Federation vessels in the AO and per galactic law, render aid to any ships signaling distress. Relay the order to ground troops as well."" Understood. Redoubt out." I put away the holocom and passed the two tablets back to Qui-Gon.

"Let's hope the rest of this negotiation can be so efficient."" Quite," the older Jedi agreed." Now, on to the matter of your troops. I've reviewed the royal intelligence reports. Your army has razed multiple small towns and villages to the ground in their march eastward. As I'm sure you know, attacking civilians in war is against galactic law."" Against Republic law," the neimoidian sneered, taking out a handkerchief and wiping his sweaty face.

"And they fired upon our troops first! That makes them partisans and valid targets!"

"Wrong," I denied.

"While it is true that partisan tactics tend to involve mixing their forces with the local civilians, typically in places that it would be politically inconvenient to target—such as hospitals, schools, and religious sites—you may not use indiscriminate attacks against civilian infrastructure when fighting them. You may only destroy the structure they're hiding in, not the entire town."

"Just so," Qui-Gon nodded.

"Such actions fall afoul of war crime laws."" Republic laws," the TradeFed ambassador stressed again, "do not concern us. The Trade Federation do not recognize their authority." I blinked, before a smile slowly crept across my face and a thrill of fear filled the room from practically everyone there save for Qui-Gon. Leaning forward and resting my elbows on the table, I settled into my best Ikari Gendo pose.

"Just to clarify, are you saying that the Trade Federation do not recognize galactically agreed upon laws and conventions of war?"

"I…" The ambassador hesitated." Why are you smiling like that?"" Oh, I'm just imagining all the things I'll be allowed to do depending upon your answer. So far, we have waged this little conflict while adhering to those laws and conventions. However, those rules only apply when both sides agree to follow them. When one side refuses to acknowledge the m … they become a checklist for the other side. And I'm a bit of a completionist when it comes to these things." The neimoidian swallowed thickly.

"…Let me contact my superiors and get back to you with an answer." Qui-Gon shook his head.

"For your sake, I hope they give the correct answer. As both the Trade Federation and the Confederacy have declared independence from the Republic, I'm sure the Republic Senate will be more than happy to let your two factions work the matter out between yourselves." Standing, the ambassador hurried for the door.

"Please excuse me, I need to place a call!" I sighed as the doors slammed shut behind him.

"Padawans," I said, and Allaya and Asajj perked up.""Yes, Master?"""Let this be a lesson. Never interrupt your enemy when he's making a mistake." Frowning, Obi asked, "Then why did you interrupt him?" I sent her a flat look.

"Because if they refuse to acknowledge th ose laws, that opens up avenues I would rather not take, but would be forced to do so in order to prevent worse things from happening— or those things from being done to us. That starts with bombing their capitals from orbit and escalating from there. I don't want that blood on my hands." Looking to Padme, I asked, "How about a recess?" The queen stood.

"Yes, I believe I could do with a break. Master Qui-Gon, you and your Padawan are welcome to join Us for refreshments—" Whatever else Padme was going to say was cut off as I felt a tremble in the Force. Every other Force sensitive in the room perked up as well, all of us turning to look to the west. Then it hit all at once—fear, terror, pain. I threw up my mental shields to block out the noise, swaying where I stood and having to brace myself on the table until it passed.

Padme frowned, looking at us, then at the wall in that direction and back.

"Is something wrong?"" There was a great disturbance in the Force," Qui-Gon winced as he sat down heavily.

"As though millions of voices cried out in terror… and were suddenly silenced."

"Master, what could it have been?" Obi asked. I swallowed my bile and got my feet back under me.

"The timing coincides roughly with the fall from orbit," I mumbled, before pulling out the holocom.

"I'll find out—" It rang before I could call and, as soon as I answered, a direct feed from our sensors popped into the air above the device. Capt. Keen's voice filled the sudden silence in the room as everyone took in a chasm and a plume of steam and smoke, and what looked very much like the ruins of a city.

"Mandalore, ma'am. There was a city beneath the swamp, hidden from our sensors until the Lucrehulks blasted the top off. Looks like it was some kind of shield to keep it hidden, preventing our scans from penetrating." Padme gasped. We turned to look at her and she whispered, "Otoh Gunga."