Ficool

Chapter 1 - History

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DISCLAIMER

The following is a fan-based FICTION

All Installations of Star Wars are owned by Lucasfilm and Disney. All Installations of Dune belong to Herbert Properties, Legendary Entertainment, and Warner Bros. And any other references to other works all belong to their respective authors/companies and whatnot.

Chapter 1:

History

"Talking"

'Thoughts'

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Location: Castle Caladan

Year: 39 BBY

Time: 8:14 A.M

Ice-cold water smashed into the rocky coastline, white foam cascading over the jagged rocks before receding back into the dark ocean. Above the dirt-streaked, dark-brown stone rose a massive spire of smooth metal, utterly devoid of jagged edges—curved and flat like a piece of art rather than what it truly was: an armored fortress.

Inside the fortress's library, at one of the many desks scattered throughout the space—surrounded by shelves holding more than ten thousand books—sat two figures. One was an older man with a neatly kept white mustache across his upper lip and combed-over white hair, pale and clean like fresh snow. Sitting across from him was a small eight-year-old boy, his loose, messy dark-brown hair framing dark green eyes that stared upward with unmistakable sparkles of excitement.

"Are you ready, young lord?" the older man asked, a kind smile tugging at his features.

"Yes! Yes!" The young lord bounced in his seat, barely able to contain himself.

"Remember to take your notes, Cade. You must always remember House Atreides' history."

"Yes, Castellan Rowhan." Cade nodded eagerly, smiling as he picked up his pen and opened his notebook to a fresh, blank page.

"Good." Rowhan nodded once before beginning the lesson. "What do you know of the Ruusan Reformation?"

"Uhm… w-well, isn't that the Battle of Ruusan?" Cade answered, uncertainty creeping into his voice.

"No. The Ruusan Reformation was what occurred after the Battle of Ruusan—the seventh one, in fact." Cade nodded at Rowhan's words and quickly jotted down a few notes. "It brought massive changes to the Republic, including the dissolution of the Jedi's military forces. They were reduced from the Republic's primary military arm to little more than a policing force."

"But why would they do that?" Cade asked curiously. "What happens when the Republic gets invaded, or when a company like the Trade Federation acts out?"

"That," Rowhan replied calmly, "is why mercenary companies exist—and the primary reason House Atreides does as well."

"Really?"

"Indeed. The three hundred founders of House Atreides were all disgruntled veterans of the New Sith Wars, having previously served under their Jedi Lords. When the Jedi renounced their titles, disbanded their army, naval, and starfighter forces, and placed themselves under the supervision of the Supreme Chancellor and the Judicial Department, many soldiers saw it as the end of the war—and a time for peace. Others, however, saw it as betrayal. For some, war was all they had ever known, and when they were discharged and told to return to normal civilian life, many turned to crime or, sadly, fell into drugs and alcohol. Unfortunately, many ended their own lives, seeking release from their pain."

"Did the Republic not do anything to help them?"

"They tried, but there were simply too many, and the Republic was too late to address the problem." Rowhan shook his head sadly before continuing. "However, many soldiers came together and formed bounty-hunting teams, mercenary companies, and even pirate gangs. The founders of House Atreides were three hundred former soldiers who united to create the Atreides Mercenary Company. Named after the Atreides Hawk, they took on countless contracts and quickly made a name for themselves."

"Whoa!" Cade eagerly wrote everything down. "What else! What else!"

Rowhan chuckled at his student's enthusiasm. "The Atreides Company continued to rise in the mercenary markets and eventually dominated them for nearly two hundred years. Sadly, not everything good can last."

"What?" Cade's smile faded into a small frown.

"The captain of the company, Paul, was betrayed and abandoned by his second-in-command, Vice Captain Shaddam, on Kashyyyk. With a force of twenty loyal men, Paul sought out the Kashyyyk natives—the Wookiees—and, with their help, was able to strike back against his vice captain."

"Yeah!" He cheered, "But, Rowhan, why did Shaddam betray Paul in the first place?" Cade asked.

"Shaddam was an ambitious man. He sought to take the company for himself and was able to convince several of the lieutenants to back him in his grasp for power. And because of the company's success, they now numbered more than a thousand men. So, Shaddam securing the loyalty of several lieutenants was no small feat."

"But why?!" Cade cried out. "If they were so amazing and successful, then why would they betray Paul?"

"Well, the reasons were several, but the biggest was that Paul was young," Rowhan explained.

"Young?" Cade echoed.

Rowhan nodded. "Paul was only seventeen when his father—and the captain of the company—Leto, was killed on a contracted mission on Wayland. Paul then led the company to successfully complete that contract, as well as several others that had already been lined up by his father and his advisors. However, after that, Paul stumbled and began to make mistakes. Following several failed contracts, Paul began to lose the respect and loyalty of his lieutenants."

"That wouldn't make them hate him enough to betray him, though, right?!" Cade exclaimed.

"You'd be right. It all took a turn for the worse when Paul accepted a contract from the planetary governor of Eriadu."

"Eriadu?" Cade asked.

"A planet in the Outer Rim and one of the most active trade centers in the region—one of the primary and most loyal customers of the Atreides Company at the time," Rowhan explained. "A group of guerrilla fighters had sprung up and began attacking shipments of ore, medical supplies, and food, killing and plundering across the planet's eastern continent. Paul foolishly attempted to lead an assault on the guerrillas' home turf."

Cade frowned. "What happened?"

"Paul led a force of three hundred into the jungle, along with two hover tanks and several speeder bikes." Rowhan shook his head slowly. "He came out with barely fifty men and only two heavily damaged speeders." Cade's eyes widened in shock. "Paul was distraught at the loss of life under his command. It was the largest loss of life in the company's entire history."

"So what did he do?!" Cade asked, eager to know how Paul fought back and completed the contract. "What did Paul do?"

"Nothing," Rowhan said simply.

"What?" Cade asked, confused.

"He broke down. He wouldn't leave his room aboard his flagship and, as a result, was forced to let Shaddam lead the company in his place."

"He…" Cade stumbled over the words. "He just gave up!" he shouted angrily.

"I'm afraid so, young lord. Shaddam, using dummy hover transports, baited the fighters into attacking a false supply convoy before ruthlessly slaughtering them to the last. Even then, Paul refused to show his face, forcing Shaddam to accept the contract's rewards himself and further cementing his image as a better candidate to lead the company than Paul."

"If that's true, then what happened to Paul on Kashyyyk? Why didn't he just give up then, too?"

Rowhan narrowed his eyes; even he seemed uncertain of what had been recorded. "No one truly knows. Only that Paul seemed to find himself—or something. Some soldiers at the time claimed he received a vision. Others said he took some of the planet's drugs and went insane. Others believed the drugs caused the visions, or that the betrayal itself simply changed him. Nothing is certain. All we know is that Paul captured several shuttles and led his twenty men, along with two hundred Wookiees, up to the Atreides flagship and took it by force, proclaiming himself Paul Atreides, Lord of the Atreides Mercenary Company."

"Strange," Cade commented quietly, unsure how to feel about someone he had judged so harshly only moments before.

"Indeed, young lord. Over the next twenty years, Paul led the Atreides into a golden era. The Atreides Company was transformed into the Noble Company of House Atreides, and Paul took on the title of Duke. A decade later, House Atreides had grown to nearly five thousand men and more than two dozen ships. The Republic, wary of House Atreides' growing military might, sought to bring Paul under the Senate's control rather than risk war. Paul agreed—on the condition that House Atreides be granted a planet to call home. The Republic accepted, provided Paul found a habitable world on his own that was not home to any species on the Republic's protected list."

"And he found Caladan, right?" Cade asked excitedly.

Rowhan smiled. "Yes. Though at the time it went by a different name among one of its native populace, the Ewoks. They called it Endor. After a three-month planetary survey conducted by Republic geologists, archaeologists, explorers, and the like, a contract was signed with Paul, granting him control of the planet and officially giving House Atreides a seat in the Senate."

"That's why Father goes on so many missions with Jedi, right?!" Cade asked curiously.

Rowhan nodded. "After that, Paul began to make Endor House Atreides' home. He ordered the construction of this very castle—Castle Caladan—and renamed the planet as such. He then subjugated the local Dulok and Ewok populations in the region and ordered the construction of Cala City. Afterward, he was forced to relocate the local Yuzzums to make way for several military bases and training facilities."

"The Salusan Bull facilities, right?"

"Correct, Cade. Sadly, Paul passed away not long after, at the age of eighty-two, and his son—a forty-year-old Leto the Second Atreides—took over. He slaughtered anyone who stood in his way to fulfill the vision his father had given him, or so it was said."

"He slaughtered everyone in his way? How so?" Cade asked, confused.

Rowhan chuckled softly. "Well, there's a reason the native species of Caladan are all endangered, young lord."

"Really?" Cade asked, shocked.

"Yes. With that came the construction of Argent City, the coastal city of Horizon, and the expansion of cities across the other continents of Caladan. In the southern continent alone, Atreides Landing, the city of Cidrit, and Ashmarke were built. On the eastern continent came Goldgrass, Nightsong, and the city of Legacy. Nightsong and Legacy are both named after the battle for the eastern continent, where five hundred Atreides soldiers and a hundred colonists fought against a combined force of three thousand Ewoks, Duloks, and the remaining Yuzzums who had stayed hidden."

Cade bounced in his seat, utterly entranced by the tale.

"From then on, the Atreides household stagnated for a period of time."

"Stagnar—stagnaytied—no! Stagnated!" Cade stumbled over the word before cheering in relief once he finally got it right.

"Yes, stagnated. It means to cease developing; to become inactive or dull," Rowhan said with a smile. "For the next two hundred years, House Atreides continued performing contracts, but now primarily for Republic-controlled worlds. Before that, the Atreides would take nearly any contract, from the Inner Core to the Outer Rim." Cade nodded and wrote that down. "It wasn't until Luna Atreides—the first female Duchess of House Atreides—that we expanded our borders and sought to bring the planet Alprezar into the grasp of House Atreides."

"Grandmother ruled House Atreides too, didn't she?" Cade asked excitedly.

Rowhan smiled at his student. "Indeed. Your grandmother, Brea Atreides, was the second matriarch of House Atreides and led many campaigns through nearby Outer Rim territories, hunting down pirates and slavers."

"Yaaay! I knew Nana Brea was amazing! Father always says so."

"Your grandmother taught your father everything he knew—how to lead, how to fight, how to read, all of it. She loved your father very much."

"…I miss her," Cade said quietly, sniffling.

Crouching down beside the boy, Rowhan placed a hand on his shoulder and said gently, "It is natural to miss someone you loved so dearly. But while she may be gone, her memory lives on—in your father, in you—just as the memories of all the Dukes of Atreides before her lived on in her."

Cade nodded and wiped away the few loose tears.

Rowhan smiled before lifting his hand from the boy's shoulder and standing back up. "Now, I think that is enough history for one day, wouldn't you say?"

"What?!" Cade exclaimed, shocked. "No way!"

Rowhan chuckled. "There's no need to learn everything about your family's history today, young lord. Soon enough, you'll know it so well you'll be able to recite it off the top of your head without any notes—just as your father and I can."

Suddenly, there was a knock on the double doors leading into the library. "Come in!" Rowhan called.

The large doors opened with a low groan, revealing the dark gray, metallic, armored form of the newest generation of DT-series sentry droid, fresh from the island factories on Caladan. At present, no weapon integration had been completed on the new model, but that did not mean it wasn't deadly. It could withstand over fifty blaster bolts before even slowing and could run at speeds of up to forty-five miles per hour, as well as leap nearly fifteen meters in a single bound. Once the weapon systems of the DT-014 were integrated, it would be a true killing machine on the battlefield.

Walking ahead of the sentry droid was a woman with an hourglass figure, clad in a flowing crimson dress. Her sparkling blue eyes shone like a sunlit lake, and long black hair fell just past her shoulders.

Cade leapt from his seat and ran straight for her. "Mom!"

He slammed into her midsection, drawing an audible gasp from his mother as she staggered slightly from the impact.

Quickly recovering, Cade's mother bent down and scooped up her eight-year-old boy. "Oof—you're getting heavy."

Cade blushed. "Well, of course, Mom. I am eight years old now."

"Oh, you grow up so fast," she cooed, kissing his cheek and leaving a soft imprint of her lipstick behind.

"Ew! Mom!" Cade squirmed out of her grip, licking his finger and wiping the lipstick away with a disgruntled look once he was free.

"And how has my boy been doing in his lessons?" she asked.

"Great!" Cade replied, his tone brimming with pride.

Cade's mother raised an eyebrow at him before casting a questioning look toward Castellan Rowhan. The older man nodded. "Truly, Lady Ailia. The young lord is diligent in his note-taking and loves hearing about the history of the House. He seems to have a genuine fondness for it, my lady—so much so that it's staggering how different he is from his father in that regard." As he spoke, Rowhan picked up Cade's word-filled notebook and handed it to Lady Ailia.

Cade glanced at Rowhan, then looked back up at his mother, confusion written plainly across his face. "What do you mean I'm different from my father in that regard?"

Ailia chuckled softly as she ruffled Cade's hair. "Let's just say your father lacked your passion for history."

Rowhan laughed as he walked over to a smaller table set against one of the many large wooden columns in the library. He grabbed a glass pitcher and poured himself some water. "Your father would constantly skip—or outright run from my lessons, as if I carried Falsin's rot or something."

"Really?" Cade asked, shocked.

"Truly," Rowhan nodded. "Your grandmother often had to drag him out of the training yard, sit him down, and sometimes even help me teach him herself. He was a rascal, he was."

"I don't think I was ever that bad," a strong, steady, masculine voice said, announcing its presence.

Clad in a tight-fitting black suit tailored for a military officer, the man bore an aiguillette across his right breast, the red-and-gold ducal patch of House Atreides—worn only by the active Duke—and a pair of gold hawks set proudly on his collar. His spiked black hair and forest-green eyes caught the light of the library's chandeliers as he stepped forward.

"Father!" Cade cried out, rushing forward to hug him.

"Hey there, little man. Did you do well in your lesson?" Cade's father asked as he lifted him up and pulled him into a hug, earning an enthusiastic nod pressed against his neck in return.

"Did your meeting with the senator end early, husband?" Ailia asked.

Cade's father frowned slightly as he set Cade back on his feet. "I asked him, once again, to bring the Trade Federation up before the Senate, but no one in the Inner Core seems willing to listen."

"That's because they have the funds and the means to repel the Trade Federation if they ever try anything," Ailia reasoned.

"Exactly. The Mid Rim and the few Outer Rim worlds that have representation in the senate don't have nearly enough sway to even properly broach the Trade Federation as a subject, let alone push what we're trying to do with tariffs and sanctions," Cade's father said, shaking his head.

"Uh… what?" Cade asked, tilting his head cutely in confusion.

"I think political talk and the like can wait until Cade is older, wouldn't you agree, Lord Tyler, my lady?" Rowhan said with a small, knowing smile.

Tyler laughed. "Yes, sorry about that, little man." He ruffled his son's hair before turning to his wife. "I assume you came to get him for lunch as well?"

Ailia smiled warmly. "I did."

"Perfect. Then we can all have lunch together. I had the staff set up a table for us in the garden so we can eat there."

Ailia swooned. "Oh, do I ever mention how much I love you, husband?"

"Only—"

"Lalalala! Not listening!" Cade shouted, plugging his ears. His outburst drew laughter from both his parents, Rowhan, and even his father's ever-faithful Mandalorian bodyguard, Kolar Moone. "Even you, Kolar!" Cade cried out indignantly.

Kolar merely shrugged in response, prompting Cade to glower at the armored man.

"Now, now—Kolar did nothing wrong," Tyler said with a chuckle. "Come on. We don't have much time. You've got lessons with Warmaster Kellan Moone—Kolar's brother—in under an hour."

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's go!" Cade shouted, grabbing both his mother's and father's hands and dragging them eagerly down the ornate hallways of Castle Caladan.

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Location: HASC Gladius-class heavy corvette

Year: 32 BBY

Time: 1:38 P.M

Cade shook his head at the memory and sat up in the narrow bed inside his quarters aboard a ship of his own design—the Gladius-class heavy corvette. 'Sometimes I wonder why I even dream, if all I ever see is my dead teacher, my dead mother, and my deadbeat father who threw me to the wolves the moment she passed,' he thought bitterly. Cade rose and began getting dressed, jaw clenched. 'If I woke up, that means we're exiting hyperspace. Still have no clue how the fuck my body just knows—but it's useful, so what's there to complain about?'

The ship rumbled faintly, the familiar shudder signaling their exit from hyperspace. Moments later, the door to his room slid open, revealing a tall, muscular man clad in gunmetal-gray armor with green and black accents, a green half-cape flowing down his back.

"Lord Cade, we've arrived at Naboo," the soldier reported. "The shipmaster is ordering every available soldier to the dropships to help defend against the Federation ground invasion."

"I'll meet you and the rest of the Talons down in the hangar bay," Cade replied as he slid on his armored breastplate. "Make sure to save me a spot."

The soldier adjusted the BCA2 in his hands, nodded once, and jogged off.

"Stupid special forces—always so twitchy," Cade muttered. The man was a member of House Atreides' elite honor guard, tasked with protecting the Duke and his family from threats both within and without. Cade snorted quietly. "Couldn't save my mother from that fucking assassin droid, though, could you?"

He reached beneath his pillow, retrieving his kukri knife and AR-1 heavy blaster pistol, then slotted his helmet over his head. Without another pause, Cade bolted from his room and sprinted down the corridor toward the hangar bay.

The BCA2, the AR-1 heavy blaster pistol, and the brown-and-dark-green BDU he currently wore were all of his own design, created during his pseudo 'exile' at the Atreides Center of Military Research. He had been sentenced there seven months after his mother died—just two weeks after his twelfth birthday—and only because this was his second life had he managed to survive it. Otherwise, Cade had no doubt that without the knowledge and experience from his life on Earth, he would still be rotting away in that research facility, wasting away into nothing.

His father had made it painfully clear that he no longer wished to see his only son—not after the loss of his wife and unborn daughter. What the man seemed determined to ignore was that it wasn't only his wife and daughter who had died that day, but Cade's mother and sister as well. For Cade, the wound had only deepened months ago when news reached him of his teacher's passing—Castellan Rowhan, too. Unlike his mother, who had been assassinated, Rowhan had died peacefully in his sleep, claimed by old age.

'If Rowhan also died because of the Trade Federation…'

The thought simmered in Cade's gut, sending his emotions into a storm of rage and grief that threatened to consume him. He took a deep breath and clenched his fists, forcing himself forward as he entered the hangar. A pair of Pelican dropships were already lifting off, engines roaring as they descended toward the beautiful planet below—now under siege by Federation droids.

Jogging toward the last and sole remaining Pelican, Cade vaulted aboard the one packed with Atreides Elite—the Winged Shields—and several standard-issue soldiers known as Talon Guardsmen. Fifteen of them were armed with BCA2 blaster carbines; the remaining four carried BCA1 blaster carbines, two of those also bearing SPNKr rocket launchers magnetically locked to their backplates.

One of the Winged Guard grabbed a pre-placed BCA1 from beside a seat and tossed it toward Cade. He caught it—though not before bobbling it for a second or two—earning a few quiet chuckles from the Talons.

"Tch." Cade clicked his tongue as he took the last open seat, set the rifle into its magnetic holster beside him, pulled down the harness, and locked it firmly into place.

The door slammed shut, and the lights dimmed as the Pelican shot out of the Gladius' hangar. Red turbolaser fire shrouded the heavy corvette as Naboo starfighters dueled with droid fighters—and the massive Lucrehulk-class battleship itself. The Pelican, along with its two wingmen, dodged and weaved through the blaster fire as they descended toward the planet's surface.

Tapping into his comm unit, Cade ordered, "All Pelicans, ignore the droids' battle with the Gungans in the plains and make a beeline for the capital. The Queen and her guards are the priority."

"And who gave you the right to give orders, huh? Exiled lord?" one of the Talons sneered a few seats over.

"Last I checked, it was my last name, you no-name idiot," Cade shot back, making sure his comm unit was muted. "My father may have abandoned me, but I still carry the name Atreides." The talon fell silent. Cade reactivated his comm. "Their tanks will most likely be running anti-air. They'll probably miss—but don't take chances."

"Copy that, Lord Cade."

The Pelican shuddered as they punched through the atmosphere, and silence filled the troop bay for nearly a minute before the pilot's voice cut in. "Approaching drop zone. Droids are swarming the landing pad—prepare to get hairy."

Behind his balaclava and golden-tinted goggles, Cade grinned.

He had trained under a Mandalorian for nearly his entire life—even during exile. Kellan Moone had sought him out at the academy and continued his training there, relentlessly honing him. In his teacher's own words, this was Cade's crucible. If he returned from this battle, then he could truly call himself a warrior.

That—and Cade knew most baseline Star Wars lore like the back of his hand. Same with Halo. That knowledge was why he'd been able to design the schematics for the weapons, vehicles, and armor housed within the Gladius—not to mention the ship itself.

If his father wished to rid himself of his son and heir, then fine. Cade would be remembered regardless. When history looked back, the name Cade Atreides would stand beside Paul, Leto II, Luna, and all the other greats of House Atreides.

Cade would make sure of it.

Due to his knowledge, Cade knew that this current version of B1 battledroid software was dogshit compared to what it would eventually become during the height of the Clone Wars.

"Here we go, ladies!" the pilot called over the intercom as the lights inside the Pelican flared to life, bathing the bay in a crimson glow.

With a heavy thud, the lights switched to green, and the Pelican's bay door snapped open with a sharp hiss before lowering. Cade had already thrown off his harness, the BCA1 gripped firmly in his hands. He leapt from the bay, firing controlled bursts of blaster fire at any droid in his path. By the time the first of the Winged Shields stepped out after him, the eight droids guarding this small section of the hangar had already been reduced to scrap.

Glancing across the hangar, Cade watched as soldiers of House Atreides cleared their zones with ease. Turning and stalking forward, he didn't wait for the others to catch up as he made his way through a set of massive metallic doors leading into the Theed Royal Palace.

"Whoa," Cade breathed, momentarily awed by the sight.

The inner palace was stunning—intricate designs inlaid into the marble-textured floor, tall arched ceilings, and wide windows supported by dull orange columns that stretched high above.

'This is even prettier than it looked in the movies,' Cade marveled. 'Might even give Castle Caladan back home a run for its money.'

Cade jumped back, startled, as several bursts of blaster fire streaked past him, striking three oncoming B1s and dropping them to the floor before they could react. He turned just in time to see the sergeant of the Winged Shields fireteam stride past him, offering a curt remark as he did so. "Pay attention. Gawk later."

Cade clenched his jaw in frustration, reluctantly admitting the man had a point—though he wasn't about to say that out loud. Turning, he caught up with the sergeant and began issuing orders. Despite his exile, his father had still placed him in charge of ground operations.

"Charlie squad, head down to the lower levels of the palace and cause as big a distraction as you can. Bravo squad, move toward the throne room. That's most likely where that bastard Viceroy and his Trade Federation ilk are positioned—capture them," Cade ordered as he and Alpha squad advanced through the palace's beautiful halls with methodical ease. "Alpha and I will locate and secure the Queen."

"Roger that, Lord Cade," the Charlie squad sergeant replied.

"Understood," the Bravo squad sergeant said simply.

Muting his comms for the moment, Cade rounded the next corner—and immediately cursed as he scrambled back into cover. A hail of red blaster bolts screamed past where his head had just been, slamming into the wall only a few feet away.

"How many?" the Winged Shields sergeant asked as he took position beside Cade, weapon raised.

"Two," Cade replied.

The sergeant nodded, then did a double-take. "Two?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes, two Droidekas with their shields up," Cade snapped, drawing an understanding 'ooh' from two of the Talons.

"Rocket launcher, now," the sergeant ordered—but Cade swiftly intervened.

"Do you want to get paid? Because I highly doubt the Naboo government will when we blow a hole the size of a starfighter in their own palace!"

"Your father has already received half the payment up front, and we'll be receiving the rest of the payment in plasma," the sergeant informed Cade, much to his confusion and anger.

"And why the hell couldn't my father tell me that?" Cade replied, gritting his teeth.

The sergeant didn't respond. Instead, he turned his attention to one of the Talons carrying a rocket launcher. "Get over here and take them out, now!"

His tone brooked no argument. One of the two Talons hurriedly pulled his SPNKr off the magnetic lock on his back, replacing it with his BCA1 as he hefted the launcher over his shoulder, his right hand wrapping firmly around the weapon's grip. The Talon edged toward the corner, took a steadying breath, then swung out and pressed the trigger. A sharp hiss followed as a rocket launched from the top tube. He immediately ducked back into cover, discarded the now-empty tube, and swapped the launcher for the BCA1 on his back.

The walls and floor shuddered as a massive explosion echoed down the hallway, coating everything in a thin layer of smoke and dust. Cade strode forward, his golden visor filtering the haze as he took point, turned the corner, and stepped into the corridor. Both Droidekas had been reduced to twisted scrap and melted metal. Several columns were cracked and blackened with soot and debris, and a small hole had been punched into the floor—surprising, given the sheer power of the launcher.

What wasn't surprising was the massive black scorch mark smeared across the palace's once-beautiful, marble-like floor.

Stepping around the hole, Cade continued on, hearing—but not caring—that the rest of the men were following dutifully behind him. Suddenly, a red blaster bolt caught him straight in the chest, knocking the breath from his lungs and almost forcing him to his knees. But Cade recovered and, with a snarl behind his balaclava, lunged behind a column as the men of House Atreides began to exchange fire with more droids.

"Shit, that hurt!" Cade grumbled as he looked down at the scorched durasteel plate. Glancing out from behind his pillar, he saw eleven B1 battledroids—with more joining their number every second—slowly advancing down the hallway toward their position. Beyond the droids, though, was a large staircase, spanning a few dozen steps, that led up to a pair of massive, silver-colored steel doors.

Solidifying his grip on his blaster carbine, Cade lifted it and peeked out from behind the column. A burst of green blaster bolts spat from the barrel of his weapon, taking out a pair of B1s.

"Lord Cade, look!" one of the Talons shouted, prompting Cade to fall back into cover as he turned toward the man. The Talon was pointing at the window behind Cade. When he looked, Cade was momentarily stupefied as he watched what could only be the Royal Naboo Security Forces—and… a girl?—scaling the side of the palace with ascension cables.

"What in the…" Cade mumbled, before remembering that this was what happened in the movie. At least, he thought it was. He hadn't seen it in a while, considering it had been fifteen years since he'd reincarnated into this version of the Star Wars universe. Activating his comm, Cade demanded, "Bravo squad, have you secured the throne room? And Charlie squad, what's your status?"

"This is Bravo—we're encountering heavy resistance, but we're just outside the throne room!" Bravo's Sergeant relayed back.

"The rest of Charlie and I are holding up the best we can; we've just received a few reinforcements from a group of surviving Royal Security Guards, so we should be able to hold out for a while longer!"

"Good. Once the Viceroy is captured, fall back, Charlie," Cade ordered.

"Copy that. Charlie, out."

"Bravo, you should be getting reinforcements any second now."

"Reinforcements? From who?" Bravo went silent for a few moments before suddenly speaking up again. "We've located the queen—well, technically she located us—but she and half a dozen Royal Guards are helping us assault the throne room!"

"We'll try to reach you as fast as we can, but we're also being pinned down, and there's seemingly no end to these bastards," Cade cursed as the pillar he was taking cover behind was struck by a few blaster bolts.

"Roger that, Alpha. Bravo, out."

Peeking out from his column, Cade held down the trigger of his BCA1, releasing thirty-two rounds of green blaster bolts before a slide opened on the side of the weapon and steam hissed out from within, venting the heat. "Screw it. We've already used a rocket, and unless we do something about these damned droids, we'll never make it to the throne room in time," Cade muttered under his breath.

"Everyone!" he called out over comms, making sure Alpha squad, as well as Bravo and Charlie, heard him. "I know we wanted to limit the structural damage we did, but we're not going to make these fuckers budge unless we do. Thermal detonators are a go—so are SPNKr rockets. All explosive devices are fair game!"

Cade muted his comms just in time to hear a Talon from a few columns back shout, "Fuck yeah!"

A moment later, a blinking thermal detonator was thrown past his head, landing in the middle of five B1s.

BOOM!

Droid parts flew through the air, clattering to the ground and giving Cade's forces an opening. Rushing out from behind several columns, four Winged Shields sprinted forward, high-powered green blaster bolts echoing out from their BCA2s in bursts. Several red blaster bolts impacted their armor and were taken in stride thanks to the Winged Shields' duroplast armor, which was significantly stronger than Cade's and the Talons' own durasteel armor.

Launching himself up and out of cover, Cade joined the fray, firing his carbine before slamming straight-first into a B1. Pulling his AR-1 heavy blaster pistol out from its holster, he fired four shots into the droid's body, dropping it to the floor.

"Droidekas!" one of the Winged Shields called out from up ahead of Cade.

Cade, now at the bottom of the staircase, glanced left down a hallway, revealing two rapidly rolling droidekas, and then down the hallway to his right, seeing the same. "Open fire before they can deploy their shields!" he cried out as he reholstered his blaster pistol and opened fire with his carbine down the left hallway.

Three of the Winged Shields and all four of the Talons joined Cade in firing on the two droidekas rapidly approaching, sending one tumbling into the wall and the second sputtering out before collapsing into a pile of scrap.

Cade was forced to duck as a series of rapid-fire crimson blaster bolts nearly struck him. Diving behind a pillar, he saw one of the Talons pull a fellow downed Talon into cover. Looking down the hallway, Cade saw that two Winged Shields were injured, with another possibly even dead, as a single remaining droideka—its left leg prong obviously damaged—coated the hallway in a sea of red blaster fire.

"Talon!" Cade shouted toward the same rocket soldier from earlier, only to curse as he saw him sprawled on the floor, armor scorched and dented, while another Talon worked frantically to keep him alive. The medic glanced up at Cade. "Grab his launcher and take out that droideka!"

"I can't, Lord Cade!" he called back over the din of blaster fire. "He's too injured—if I stop treating him, I'm not sure he'll make it!"

"Damn it," Cade hissed, frustration burning hot in his chest. His eyes flicked back and forth between the droideka down the hall and the two Talons huddled behind partial cover a few columns away. A reckless idea sparked in his mind. "Fuck it," he muttered, then broke into a sprint from behind the column.

He slammed shoulder-first into the tall palace window beside the column. The Clari-crystalline spiderwebbed with cracks but didn't shatter. Cade bit back a grunt of pain and pushed through it, dropping into a crouch beside the wounded Talon. Moving carefully, deliberately, he unhooked the bulky launcher from the man's back, mindful not to jostle him any more than necessary.

"Holy shit," the medic breathed, staring up at Cade with wide eyes, equal parts shock and disbelief.

Cade rose and hefted the launcher onto his shoulder, the weight settling in with a familiar, uncomfortable pull. His finger hovered just short of the red trigger. He drew in a slow, steadying breath and lined up his shot through the pillar, mentally fixing the angle. When he stepped out, it would take only a heartbeat—barely even that—to correct his aim and fire the last rocket straight down the hall.

Taking a deep breath and forcing his racing heart to steady, Cade squared his shoulders and moved. He stepped out from behind the pillar and squeezed the trigger. The rocket tore free from the launcher with a violent hiss, streaking down the hallway in a blur of smoke and flame toward the droideka.

He never got the chance to watch it hit.

Several crimson blaster bolts slammed into Cade's armored chestplate almost simultaneously, the impacts hitting like sledgehammers. The force ripped the air from his lungs and hurled him backward onto the floor. The SPNKr clattered from his grasp, skidding across the marble as he landed hard, stars exploding across his vision.

A thunderous explosion roared from down the hall, metal shrieking as the droideka was blown apart in a storm of fire and debris. Cade barely registered it. He lay there gasping, chest burning, every breath a struggle as pain radiated outward from where the bolts had struck. His limbs felt heavy, unresponsive, and the edges of his vision began to darken.

He fought it—clenched his jaw, tried to draw one more breath—but it was no use. The pain swallowed him whole. His eyes slid shut, and Cade finally succumbed to the encroaching darkness.

________________________________________

A/N: Welcome to my fic: Star Wars: House Atreides! Some of you might know me from my previous two works, and some might be stumbling upon me for the first time. For those who have read my work in the past, I'm letting you know that this is a completely new me. I was young when I wrote that god-awful DXD fic and that somewhat decent but still mostly bad 100 fic. I've written many different fics in that span of time and even went back to the 100 fic for a little bit, but it never felt... right to post them. I usually grew disinterested in the project rather quickly, or for the ones I did put hard work into- 20 to 25 chapters of 4 to 6 thousand words each- I eventually looked back on them and realized what I would do differently and how, in this scene, I chose to take a shortcut instead of fleshing out the characters more or their progression. With this, I'm hoping to rectify my past mistakes and blunders, which have honestly held me back from posting for so long. Now, I will not promise the world. I have a full-time job and a girlfriend. Not to mention, I have a group of friends that I would be willing to lay my life on the line for that love to game. Now this isn't to brag, but it's to let you all know that while I love the creativity writing brings and love to write, posting multiple chapters a week is just impossible for me, especially with how meticulous I am. Once every two weeks is definitely a more achievable option for me and one I'm hoping I can fulfill. I understand that a lot of people now have the attention span of a squirrel, but I promise you my chapters will be worth the wait. At least I hope so. Haha! And any questions you guys might have, I'll do my best to answer in the next chapter, which I will be posting in a few days once I do a final once-over on it and make sure it checks all my mental boxes. See you then! Peace!

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