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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 12:
Creating Ties
"Talking"
'Thoughts'
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Location: Atreides Center of Military Research
Year: 31 BBY
Time: 5:15 P.M
When Cade was young, all he had ever wanted was a quiet life beside his parents, Castellan Rowhan, and Kellan Moone. He had dreamed of growing up within the walls of Castle Caladan, learning from those he admired, and one day serving House Atreides and its people.
That dream died the day his mother was murdered.
His father's grief became cold indifference toward the son who reminded him so much of the woman he had lost. Cade's exile to the Atreides Center of Military Research shattered what remained of his childhood, replacing it with anger, betrayal, sorrow, and enough bitterness to consume almost anyone.
He threw himself into training with a single-minded obsession. Every morning began before sunrise. Every evening ended with aching muscles and bruised knuckles. He trained until exhaustion became routine, then pushed himself beyond that point.
Then everything changed.
Ideas...
Blueprints...
Schematics...
They began appearing in his mind without warning.
At first, Cade believed he was imagining things. But the more he studied them, the more he realized they were far too detailed to be simple memories from another life.
As a lifelong fan of Halo, he recognized much of what he was seeing. Yet these weren't just vague recollections of weapons and ships from a video game. His mind filled with information he had never known. Metallurgical formulas. Chemical compounds. Manufacturing processes. The complete methodology for producing Titanium-A battle plate. Reactor designs. Shielding systems. Material compositions.
Knowledge he had never learned somehow existed within him as though it had always been there. Instead of questioning the miracle, he embraced it.
If his father intended for him to disappear into obscurity within the Research Center, then he would do the exact opposite. He would transform House Atreides into the greatest military power the galaxy had ever seen.
He began with small projects. Armor plates. The M6 magnum. The M7 submachine gun.
Simple designs that allowed him to learn how to adapt technology from his previous life to the materials, power systems, and manufacturing capabilities of the Star Wars galaxy.
Each success led naturally to another.
Each improvement earned him more freedom.
Each invention brought more attention.
Eventually, that attention reached the Principal Engineer himself.
Marcus Vwallt.
Rather than dismissing the young exile, Marcus recognized Cade's brilliance almost immediately. Instead of treating him as the Duke's unwanted son, he treated him as an engineer. He challenged Cade's assumptions, refined his ideas, and forced him to become a better designer than he ever could have become alone.
Over time, Marcus became more than simply the Principal Engineer.
He became another mentor.
Months passed. The Research Center grew stronger. House Atreides grew stronger. Then, one night, another realization struck Cade.
Why prepare for the Empire...
...when he could prevent it from ever existing?
The answer seemed almost insultingly simple.
Kill Sheev Palpatine.
The thought refused to leave him.
For nearly a year, Cade examined every possibility. He considered methods, locations, escape routes, and political consequences. Every free moment eventually circled back to the same question.
'How do I kill the most dangerous man in the galaxy?' The answer finally came only a few nights after Palpatine arrived on Naboo alongside the Jedi Council to arrest Nute Gunray.
After the Battle of Geonosis.
That was the moment.
The Clone Army would be boarding the Acclamator-class assault ships. Senators, military officers, and countless dignitaries would gather to witness the Republic's new army depart.
Palpatine would almost certainly be among them.
It would be one of the few times in his political career when he would be standing in the open, protected only by his Senate Guard instead of the extensive security apparatus that would eventually surround the Supreme Chancellor during the Clone Wars.
That was where Cade intended to strike.
Not with a single plan...
But with several.
If one failed, another would take its place. Palpatine had spent decades ensuring every contingency favored him. Cade intended to do the same.
Of course, killing Palpatine would solve only one problem while creating another.
Without the man orchestrating both sides of the conflict, Count Dooku, General Grievous, and the Confederacy would no longer be restrained by Sidious' carefully balanced grand design. The Clone Wars would still come. In many ways, they would likely become even bloodier. The Separatists would no longer be fighting to prolong the war.
They would be fighting to win it. The Republic would need someone capable of leading it through the chaos that followed. Cade had no intention of allowing another tyrant to seize that opportunity.
His thoughts drifted back to the stories of his previous life. Paul Atreides had united humanity under a single banner. Cade intended to do the same. Not for glory. Not for revenge.
But to build an empire strong enough that no foreign power, no criminal empire, no corrupt senate, and not even the Yuuzhan Vong would ever threaten House Atreides—or the people under its protection—again.
If destiny demanded an emperor...
Then Cade Atreides intended to become one.
First, however, he had an obstacle to overcome.
Sevastus Acheran.
Marcus stared at Cade for several long seconds, the confusion that had crossed his face moments earlier refusing to disappear.
"Choose what kind of future House Atreides is going to have?" Marcus repeated, furrowing his brow as he leaned against the edge of his desk. "Cade... what the hell are you talking about?"
"It's exactly what I said, Marcus," Cade replied calmly as he lowered himself into one of the chairs opposite the desk. "I'm asking you to choose what kind of future House Atreides is going to have."
Marcus continued staring at him. Then he let out an exasperated sigh.
"And I haven't got a fucking clue what you're talking about, boy," Marcus said, rubbing a hand across his face. "I've been standing here for two minutes, and you've managed to say a whole lot without actually saying anything."
Cade couldn't help sighing himself.
He hadn't expected Marcus to immediately understand. The Principal Engineer spent nearly every waking hour inside the Research Center. Politics rarely entered his workshop unless they threatened funding or delayed production schedules.
"Sevastus Acheran," Cade said simply.
Marcus blinked. "...So?" he asked after a moment. "What about him?"
Cade simply stared. For several seconds, neither man spoke. Then Cade let out a short chuckle, equal parts disbelief and amusement.
"You're serious?"
Marcus frowned. "As a fucking heart attack."
"You honestly don't know."
"No," Marcus answered, his patience beginning to wear thin. "No, I don't. So stop talking in riddles and get to the damn point already."
Cade leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "Sevastus Acheran wants to become Duke."
Silence.
Marcus stared at him as though he'd just announced the sky was green. Then he barked out a laugh. "What?"
"You heard me."
"Boy, you must be out of your ever-loving mind," Marcus said, shaking his head in complete disbelief. "Acheran loves your father..." He grimaced slightly before waving a dismissive hand. "A little too much, if you ask me, but that's beside the point." He looked Cade squarely in the eyes. "There's no fucking way he'd plot to murder Tyler. I don't buy that for a second."
"I'm not saying he wants to kill him because he hates him."
Marcus folded his arms. "Then what the hell are you saying?"
"I'm saying ambition changes people."
Marcus snorted. "It can, yes, but Acheran-"
"It's changed him, Marcus."
The Principal Engineer remained unconvinced.
"Cade," Marcus said patiently, though there was an edge of frustration creeping into his voice, "I've known Sevastus for over twenty years. He's ambitious. He's clever. He's probably the best damn military mind we have besides your father." He shrugged. "But murdering Lord Tyler? That's a hell of an accusation."
"I'm aware."
"So what makes you so damn certain?"
Cade didn't answer immediately. Instead, he held Marcus's gaze before speaking in an even, measured voice. "Because he isn't branching out and building relationships for my father."
Marcus's expression tightened slightly.
"He's building them for himself," Cade said, casting the room in a deathly silence.
Marcus considered that for several moments before shaking his head. "Even if I humor that idea," he said, choosing his words carefully, "the council would never let him take the Dukedom from you. You're Lord Atreides's only son. You're the rightful heir. That's the end of the discussion."
"Maybe," Cade admitted with a small nod.
Marcus caught the hesitation. "Maybe?"
"Acheran already has Biari."
Marcus's expression faltered.
"He has Castelli."
Marcus's folded arms loosened ever so slightly.
"He has Olphes."
Now the Principal Engineer was listening.
"And from everything I've managed to uncover, he's become pretty damn close with Finnall as well."
Marcus slowly pushed himself away from the desk. "I wasn't aware of that."
"No one besides the members of the council knows about this."
"You have proof?"
"I have enough."
Marcus found himself studying Cade in silence. There was an edge to him now that simply hadn't existed when the boy first arrived at the Research Center. The grief was still there, buried somewhere beneath the surface, but it had hardened into resolve. The uncertainty that had once clouded the boy's eyes had been replaced by unyielding conviction. The Nexu cub he had taken under his wing had become a Krayt Dragon, patient enough to remain buried beneath the dunes until the perfect moment to strike.
After another long silence, Marcus finally spoke.
"Even if everything you just said is true," he said carefully, "four council representatives aren't enough to overturn the line of succession."
"No," Cade agreed. "They aren't."
Marcus waited.
"But they're enough to start building a coalition," Cade continued. "And if I sit around expecting the council to hand me the Dukedom simply because I was born my father's son, then I deserve to lose it."
Marcus slowly exhaled through his nose. "So that's why you're here."
Cade nodded once. "I need to build my own foundation." He leaned back in his chair, never breaking eye contact. "I can't rely on the council to protect my future. I need your help."
The office fell silent once more.
Marcus remained silent for several long moments, his fingers tapping thoughtfully against the armrest of his chair. Finally, he looked back at Cade.
"What do you need from me?" Marcus asked in a calm, businesslike tone.
Relief flickered across Cade's face, though it disappeared almost as quickly as it came. "What I need specifically can wait until another meeting," Cade replied, leaning back slightly in his chair. "This conversation is about whether you'll stand with me. The details can come later."
Marcus gave a small nod. "So, in broad strokes?"
"I need you to prioritize every design, blueprint, and research project that comes from me," Cade explained. "If something of mine reaches your desk, I want it moved to the front of the queue whenever possible."
Marcus nodded again, silently committing the request to memory. "What else?"
"I need you to begin recruiting," Cade continued. "Not just engineers, but scientists, metallurgists, chemists, physicists... anyone with exceptional talent. Expand the Research Center however you can, then assign those people to my projects."
Marcus raised an eyebrow. "I assume you've already got someone in mind."
"I do." Cade didn't hesitate. "A geneticist named Mammon Hoole."
Recognition flashed across Marcus's face. "The Hoole?" Marcus asked, unable to hide a hint of surprise. "The man's one of the finest geneticists in the Republic."
"He is," Cade agreed. "And I have a project that I think will interest him enough to leave whatever he's currently working on."
Marcus studied him curiously. "What kind of project?"
Cade offered a faint smile. "One I'd rather discuss after he's agreed to work with us."
Marcus let out a quiet huff through his nose. "I sorta figured you'd say something like that." He folded his hands together on top of his desk. "What else?"
Cade blinked. "...Why are you asking? Because it sounds like to me that you've already decided."
Marcus looked at him with an almost expectant look on his face. "I have."
Cade stared at him for a moment. "Just like that?"
Marcus snorted. "No. Not just like that." He leaned back in his chair and let out a weary sigh. "I've spent the better part of twenty years minding my own business and simply saying yes to whatever politician or military general comes through and wants. Obviously they need overall approval from the Ministry of Warfare, but you see I never cared who it was or what it was about. And... I think it's about time that I did." He looked Cade squarely in the eye. "Besides, there's no way in hell I'm backing that bald piece of shit over you."
A surprised laugh escaped Cade before he could stop it.
Marcus shrugged. "You've got a vision." He gestured toward the surrounding workshops beyond the glass walls. "Half the damn projects in this place exist because of you and your ideas, your schematics."
His expression softened slightly. "I've watched you grow up in this facility, Cade. I've watched you turn grief into determination and determination into progress. You don't think like a politician." He smiled faintly. "You think like an engineer."
The room fell quiet.
Marcus slowly rose from his chair. "What else will you require of me..." He paused before inclining his head respectfully. "...my lord?"
Cade smiled. 'That's one.'
Marcus was on his side, and his plan was unfolding exactly as he'd hoped. There was still an incredible amount of work ahead of him, but in the meantime, he allowed himself a small sense of satisfaction.
"I do have one question, Lord Cade," Marcus said as he folded his hands behind his back.
"You can still call me Cade, Marcus," Cade replied with a small smile.
"My lord, with all due respect..." Marcus said firmly, shaking his head. "No, I cannot."
The smile disappeared almost immediately.
Marcus met his gaze without hesitation. "Call me old-fashioned if you'd like, but if I've chosen you as my future lord, then I'll address you as such. Respect isn't something I put on when it's convenient."
Cade held Marcus's gaze for a long moment before giving a slow nod. "...Understood."
A faint smile returned to Marcus's face.
"Now," Cade continued, "what was the question?"
Marcus's expression became thoughtful again.
"Yes, I understand why you're concerned about Acheran," he said evenly. "But I don't believe everything we've discussed today is just because of him." He leaned forward slightly. "You're preparing for something bigger, aren't you?"
Cade let out a quiet breath.
He had hoped to keep that particular secret to himself for a while longer.
Unfortunately...
The cracks within the Republic were already beginning to spread.
"You're right," Cade admitted. "Acheran is only one piece of the puzzle."
Marcus waited.
"I'm preparing for the day the Republic fractures." The room became very still.
"When it happens," Cade continued in a calm but deadly serious tone, "the Republic will descend into a war unlike anything the galaxy has seen in a thousand years."
Marcus frowned. "A civil war?"
Cade nodded once. "One that will stretch from the Core Worlds to the Outer Rim."
Marcus searched Cade's face, looking for any sign of exaggeration or uncertainty. He found neither. "You sound awfully certain."
"I am."
Marcus remained unconvinced. "Cade..." he said carefully. "Predicting political unrest is one thing. Predicting a galactic war is something else entirely."
"I know."
"So how can you be so sure?"
Cade didn't hesitate. "I'd bet my life on it."
The conviction in his voice sent an uneasy feeling through Marcus.
"There are already signs," Cade continued. "Most people dismiss them as isolated incidents. Trade disputes. Political deadlock. Secession movements. Corruption."
He slowly shook his head. "They're looking at individual pieces." Marcus listened intently. "I'm looking at the entire board." He folded his hands together. "Right now, the Republic still appears stable." He met Marcus's eyes. "But it won't stay that way."
'Quite literally,' Cade thought. 'In a few years, Dooku will hijack a HoloNet relay station in the Raxus system and deliver the speech that rallies countless worlds to the Separatist cause.
I could try to beat him to it...
But by then I'll only be twenty-three. No matter how capable I am, I won't have the political legitimacy of a former Jedi Master who's spent decades serving the Republic. People will listen to Count Dooku; they wouldn't listen to the ambitious young heir of a single noble house. Even if that house is the Dukedom of House Atreides.'
Marcus remained silent for several moments.
Finally, he nodded. "I don't know what you've seen," he admitted quietly. "And I'm not sure I understand how you've become so certain." He looked directly at Cade. "But you've never brought me a design that didn't work." His eyes drifted briefly toward the workshop beyond the office. "And you've never asked me to build something without knowing exactly why." He drew a slow breath. "So..."
He extended his hand across the desk. "I'll trust your judgment."
Cade rose from his chair and firmly grasped the older man's rough, calloused hand.
"I'll see it done, Lord Cade," Marcus said with quiet determination as they shook hands.
"I expect nothing less from you, Marcus," Cade replied with a grateful smile.
The handshake lingered for another moment before the two men released one another. Marcus immediately returned to business.
"I've got several department heads to speak with," he muttered, already mentally reorganizing production schedules.
"And I've got two more people to convince," Cade replied.
Marcus chuckled softly. "Then we'd better not waste either of our afternoons."
The office door slid open. The sounds of machinery and welding once again filled the air. Outside, Savage, Kylain, and Kellan looked up as Cade stepped back into the workshop.
Marcus gave the young heir one final respectful nod before turning sharply toward the engineering floor, already barking instructions to one of his project leads.
Cade watched him disappear into the sea of technicians and machinery before turning toward his three companions.
One ally down.
Many more to go.
From there, Cade visited the Director of the Atreides Center of Military Research, Blake Estrada. To his surprise, convincing the director proved far easier than convincing Marcus. Estrada agreed almost immediately to back Cade with funding, materials, and personnel for whatever projects he deemed necessary. Naturally, Cade questioned why, but the answer turned out to be surprisingly simple. Unlike Marcus, Director Estrada paid far closer attention to the political landscape surrounding House Atreides, which... honestly made sense.
As Director of the Research Center, Blake had to balance military production with political interests. He already knew about Sevastus Acheran's ambitions. In fact, he revealed something that immediately put Cade on edge. Over the years, Acheran had visited the Research Center several times under the pretense of checking on its progress, but his real reason had been to check on Cade. It wasn't in a fatherly manner, though, like how one checks in on their child. It was more like a crazy ex-girlfriend stalking her former boyfriend. That little piece of information alarmed Cade because he had never known about any of those visits. When he later questioned Mentor Moone, the Mandalorian admitted he hadn't known either.
With Director Estrada now on board, it was time for Cade's next meeting: Director Ryan Matlok of the Atreides Academy of Warfare. Honestly, Cade couldn't decide whether this would be the easiest meeting of the day or by far the hardest. There didn't seem to be much middle ground with Matlok.
And so Cade found himself standing at the starting line of the Academy's final battlefield qualification course. Resting comfortably in his hands was a standard-issue Atreides A270 blaster rifle as he looked over the obstacle course every Winged Shield initiate was required to complete before earning the right to graduate. Behind a large pane of transparisteel overlooking the course stood Director Matlok, Mentor Moone, Shipmaster Savage, Kylain Deova, and several of the Academy's senior instructors and high-ranking military officers. Every one of them had come to watch the heir to House Atreides.
"Lord Cade," the deep voice of Director Matlok spoke over the loudspeaker. "If you can complete this course, then you may have a meeting with me. However, if you do not, then you can return to the Research Center battered and bruised. Good luck."
With that, a loud alarm rang out, and several platforms rose from the floor, revealing roughly a dozen DT-015 wardroids. They were white in color with orange markings highlighting their joints and weak points. Immediately, Cade broke out into a sprint as the nine-foot-tall wardroids raised their arms and their heavy repeating blasters opened fire, sending light orange stun bolts careening toward him.
Glancing out from behind cover, he unleashed several light blue bolts in quick succession, aiming for the joints of the large war machines. Only a few shots found their mark, but they were enough to cause one of the wardroids to trip and fall face-first into a trench. Several dozen orange bolts streaked toward him, forcing him to duck back behind cover.
"Shit, I'm a sitting duck here." Peeking his head out again, he saw five advancing on him from the left, six from the right, and only two straight ahead. "They want me to go down the middle. That way they can pincer me," Cade realized.
Meanwhile, up in the observation box, Major General Claudi Leone of the Third Infantry Corps, The Celestial Lions, looked on with mild concern as he voiced his thoughts. "Isn't this a little too much for the boy? I mean, this test is usually for grown men and women who've gone through extensive training. Not to mention it's normally completed by a squad of five, not one."
"Maybe so, but he wants my support, and I imagine all of yours as well," Director Matlok replied.
"Why?" Colonel Maijimo Domnnai, a black-scaled Trandoshan and commander of the 7th Talon Regiment, the Black Vipers, asked. "I mean, the boy is the heir, but he's still only a boy. Why does he need our support?"
"Because he has ambition," replied an older red-skinned Twi'lek, Colonel Vadan Dranza of the 8th Talon Regiment, the Firebreathers. "He wishes to make a name for himself and prove himself without relying on his heritage. I respect that."
A series of grunts of agreement rippled throughout the observation room.
"Indeed," Director Matlok said with a nod. "Now let's see how far he's willing to go for that ambition, shall we?" He motioned back toward the observation window, where far below, Cade Atreides fought with everything he had.
Rushing forward, Cade held down the trigger of his A270, sending a stream of light blue bolts hammering into another DT wardroid. The concentrated fire chewed through the joints in its leg, forcing the towering machine down onto one knee. Sliding beneath a hail of blaster fire, he slammed shoulder-first into a concrete half-wall as orange stun bolts cracked overhead and peppered the barrier with glowing scorch marks. Remaining low, he pivoted around the edge of the cover and opened fire on the two wardroids advancing through the middle, striking one in several joints and sending it face-planting to the floor. Thankfully, the others on the right were forced to weave around a maze of concrete walls and half-walls before they could get a clear shot at him.
Vaulting over the half-wall and dropping into the trench, Cade barely had time to recover before a stun bolt caught him square in the side. A violent jolt ripped through his body, locking every muscle in place for a split second. His legs threatened to buckle beneath him, but he gritted his teeth and forced them to move. Using the trench for cover, he spun toward his exposed flank and snapped his rifle up just as the second wardroid in the middle leaned over the half-wall to engage him. His aim was noticeably sloppier from the lingering effects of the stun, but sheer volume made up for precision. Nearly twenty light blue bolts slammed into the droid's armored chest and shoulders, driving it backward until its balance finally gave way. The massive machine toppled onto its back with a metallic crash that echoed throughout the training course.
Cade risked another quick glance over the lip of the trench. The six wardroids from the right had finally pushed into the center of the course and were closing the gap with the three still advancing from the left. In another few seconds, the two groups would trap him in a perfect pincer. His eyes darted toward a ramp leading to the top of one of the course's many defensive walls, and an idea immediately formed. 'From there, I should be scot-free,' he thought. 'As long as I can stay ahead of their fields of fire, I should be fine. I just really hope there aren't any surprises waiting for me at the end.' Before the wardroids could tighten the noose any further, Cade burst from cover and sprinted toward the ramp.
Ignoring the blaster fire streaming toward him, Cade vaulted over the half-wall and dropped into the small fighting position that overlooked the far side of the course. Bringing his A270 to bear, he squeezed the trigger and swept it across the advancing DT-series wardroids. Light blue bolts rained down on the machines, striking joints, optics, and weapon mounts until they toppled one after another. For a brief moment, satisfaction crept across Cade's face.
It didn't last.
While his attention had been fixed on the wardroids in front of him, the three remaining on the left flank had continued their advance. Catching sight of their armored heads slowly rising above the lip of the ramp, Cade reacted on instinct. He dropped behind the half-wall just as a barrage of orange stun bolts ripped through the space where his head had been only a heartbeat earlier.
Without exposing himself again, Cade thrust his blaster over the top of the barrier and held down the trigger, blindly saturating the ramp with blaster fire. The weapon bucked in his hands as bolt after bolt screamed downrange. A metallic crash echoed through the course. Then another. Then several more in rapid succession.
Silence.
Cautiously, Cade rose just high enough to peer over the half-wall, his rifle already trained on where the wardroids should have been. Instead, he found the center of the course littered with disabled machines. The remaining two wardroids from the right had vanished, as had the three that had been climbing the ramp. Frowning, Cade vaulted over the barrier and carefully made his way toward the edge of the overlook. Leaning over, he couldn't help but let out a quiet laugh.
Five DT-series wardroids lay piled on top of one another in a tangled heap of metal and sparking circuitry at the base of the ramp. Apparently, one had lost its footing after being hit, sending the others tumbling down behind it like dominos.
Shaking his head with an amused chuckle, Cade stepped back from the edge. Rather than vaulting over the half-wall again, he turned and grabbed the ladder fixed to the opposite side, quickly climbing down to the lower section of the course beyond the wall that bisected the battlefield.
The moment his boots touched the ground, an unfamiliar mechanical whine cut through the air.
Cade's amusement vanished.
His rifle snapped into a ready position as his eyes swept across the training area, searching for the source of the sound. Two large panels recessed into the floor suddenly split apart, and from the openings emerged a pair of wardroids unlike anything he'd ever designed.
They immediately reminded him of droidekas, but only at first glance.
Each machine stood on three powerful legs, yet instead of a compact, rolling frame, it possessed a broad, heavily armored upper body dominated by a wide crimson visor-like sensor. Two thick mechanical arms ended in heavy blaster cannons, while mounted behind the head were twin rotary blaster cannons that slowly spun to life with an ominous whine.
Cade threw himself sideways behind a concrete barrier just as both machines opened fire. Hundreds of orange blaster bolts flooded the course, shredding chunks of concrete from the barricade and filling the air with dust and flying debris.
"You didn't think that would be it, did you?" Director Matlok's voice echoed through the loudspeakers.
"Damn it," Cade cursed under his breath as another barrage of orange stun bolts chewed chunks out of the concrete around him.
"These are our newest wardroid models," Director Matlok's voice echoed through the loudspeakers, nearly drowned out by the constant blaster fire. "Our R&D division developed them after studying the Trade Federation's droidekas."
Cade risked a quick peek over the half-wall and squeezed off several shots at the wardroid on the left. The light blue bolts splashed harmlessly across its heavily armored torso, leaving little more than black scorch marks before he ducked back into cover.
"While they lack the droideka's shields," Matlok continued, "they more than make up for it with superior firepower."
Cade let out a slow breath and glanced down at the machine's three articulated legs. "Then I don't need to punch through the armor," he murmured to himself. "I just need to knock them off their feet."
Bursting from cover, Cade held down the trigger of his A270 and swept the muzzle back and forth, sending a stream of blaster bolts toward both machines.
Sliding behind another concrete half-wall, he quickly looked toward the doorway cut through the massive wall that bisected the center of the training course. If he could reach it, he could circle behind the wardroids and attack them from an angle they weren't covering. He stole another glance over the barrier, spotting both machines methodically closing the distance before another volley forced him back down.
Taking a deep breath, Cade steadied himself. "Come on, Cade," he muttered. "You can do this.... You can do this!"
He exploded from cover.
Sprinting flat out, Cade dashed for the opening in the wall. His sudden burst of speed caught nearly everyone in the observation gallery by surprise. Director Matlok's eyebrows shot upward, Shipmaster Savage leaned forward slightly, and Kylain Deova blinked in disbelief as the young heir crossed the open ground far faster than any of them had expected.
The only person who wasn't surprised was Kellan Moone. The Mandalorian had watched Cade train for years. He knew exactly how fast his student could move.
Cade ducked through the doorway just as another stream of orange bolts slammed into the wall behind him. Without breaking stride, he blind-fired several shots to keep the wardroids pinned before racing down the length of the dividing wall. Sliding to a stop at the corner, he spotted the flag only a few meters away. He could end the exercise right now.
He frowned. 'No.'
Director Matlok wouldn't be impressed if he simply grabbed the objective while leaving the threat behind him. This wasn't just a test of whether he could complete the course. It was a test of how he thought.
Cade leaned around the corner, steadied his breathing, and aimed low.
Two dozen light blue bolts hammered into one of the wardroid's three legs, concentrating on the joints where the armor was weakest. The servos sparked violently before the entire limb gave way beneath the machine's weight. The wardroid lurched sideways, collapsed onto the training floor with a deafening crash, and powered down moments later.
Cade's sights shifted to the remaining target, and he squeezed the trigger another six times before his blaster answered with nothing more than a hollow click. "What?!"
"You didn't think your blaster would be at full capacity, did you?" Director Matlok's voice echoed across the course. "Besides, a soldier always knows exactly how much ammunition he has left. I expected better from you, young lord."
Cade clenched his jaw. "You bastard," he muttered under his breath. Frustration, however, transformed into resolve as an idea formed in Cade's mind. "Fine!" he shouted as he exploded from cover, charging straight at the crippled E-series wardroid.
The last six bolts had done their job. Every shot had struck a joint or servo, leaving the machine with a pronounced limp, but it still wasn't enough to bring it down.
"But don't blame me for destroying your new toy, Director!" Cade roared.
Vaulting over a concrete barrier, he ripped his vibro kukri from its sheath and thumbed the activation switch. The blade hummed to life with a sharp, vibrating whine.
The wardroid swung its weapons toward him, rotary cannons already spinning, but its damaged leg threw off its balance. Orange stun bolts tore into the floor around Cade, each missing by wider margins as he closed the distance.
At the last possible moment, Cade dropped into a slide.
He shot beneath the towering machine, driving the humming blade into the damaged leg before wrenching it sideways with every ounce of strength he had.
Metal screamed.
The weakened limb tore free.
The wardroid lurched violently before crashing onto the training floor hard enough to shake the surrounding concrete.
Cade was already moving.
Rolling to his feet, he planted a boot against the machine's torso and buried the kukri into the right shoulder joint. Sparks erupted as he levered the arm free before repeating the motion on the left. The heavy blaster cannons slammed uselessly onto the floor.
The wardroid struggled to right itself.
Too late.
Cade climbed onto its back, seized one of the rotary cannons with both hands, and ripped it free. The second followed moments later, tearing loose in a shower of cables and shattered armor plating.
Breathing heavily, Cade raised the kukri high before driving it into the top of the droid's head. The vibrating blade chewed through the armored casing as he dragged it backward, carving open the machine's upper chassis and exposing the processors beneath. Sparks burst from the ruined electronics before the crimson visor flickered several times and finally went dark.
Silence settled across the training course.
Cade pulled the blade free, switched it off, and slid it back into its sheath before making the short walk toward the flag.
Every eye in the observation gallery followed him.
Grasping the flagpole, Cade looked up toward Director Matlok's observation window. A tired but unmistakably cocky smirk spread across his face.
"I believe..." he said between heavy breaths, "...this is my perfect victory, Director."
He gave the flag a small shake.
"I win."
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A/N: Welcome to the twelfth chapter of my fic: Star Wars: House Atreides!