Rain trickled down the visors of our helmets.
One thing about Jabiim was certain — it didn't need weather forecasters.
Everyone on the planet already knew the forecast.
It rained yesterday.
It was raining today.
And it would rain tomorrow.
And if by some miracle it didn't rain tomorrow…
Then it would absolutely rain the day after.
I was starting to think I'd end up hating this Hutt-forsaken rain before the campaign was over.
We stood on top of our mobile headquarters — the massive **Juggernaut command vehicle** — watching the gray battlefield ahead.
Ahsoka pulled her cloak tighter around herself and muttered something under her breath.
"Remind me again why anyone lives on this planet," she grumbled.
"Probably because nobody else wants it," I replied.
She shot me a look.
"That wasn't funny."
Marshal Commander Blam tapped the side of his helmet and listened to incoming sensor reports.
"General," he said a moment later, "the clankers are activating their main reactors. Nationalist troops are moving in their trenches."
I nodded slowly.
"So they're finally waking up."
Ahsoka tilted her head.
"Master… I think that means it's time."
Despite her complaints about the weather, she wore a small communications headset so she could monitor battlefield transmissions.
Getting that device to work had been… interesting.
Togrutas didn't have external ears. They used their **montrals** for a form of passive echolocation.
Which meant the standard headset had been useless.
Engineering had to redesign it completely.
Honestly, I had no idea how that biology worked.
I suspected I had missed several xenobiology classes back at the Temple.
If Ahsoka ever found out about that…
I'd die of embarrassment.
I lifted the binocular module attached to my helmet.
The system synchronized instantly with the tactical datapad, projecting a magnified image onto my visor.
Enemy positions appeared through the curtain of rain.
Calling them "fortifications" felt generous.
A few shallow trenches stretched across the muddy plain about two kilometers away.
Behind them, nationalist troops and **battle droids** were gathering in loose formations.
Above them — endless storm clouds.
Below them — mud.
Just another day on Jabiim.
"Excellent," I said calmly.
Blam looked toward me.
"Sir?"
"Everyone prepare for the attack."
I switched to the command channel.
"All units, listen carefully."
My voice echoed across dozens of vehicles and hundreds of soldiers.
"Trench crews — in three minutes get as low as possible and keep your heads down. Do not expose yourselves."
"Armored units — prepare to move."
"Everyone else… to your positions."
---
### Command Center
A minute later we were back inside the Juggernaut.
Blam removed his helmet and moved toward the tactical table.
Sumeragi was already standing there, rapidly calculating possible enemy movements.
Mirro sat at the communications console behind us.
He was adjusting what he jokingly called his **"jukebox."**
In reality it was the heavily modified communications relay that allowed us to maintain contact despite Jabiim's terrible atmospheric interference.
To his credit, Mirro had done an excellent job.
Video communication was impossible.
The signal wasn't real-time either.
But at least it worked.
Which was far better than nothing.
"General," Blam reported, "all armored units are in combat positions."
"How long until D-hour?"
"Six minutes, sir."
A moment later another report arrived.
"General — the droids are advancing!"
I watched the tactical display carefully.
"Wait."
Blam looked at me.
"Sir?"
"Wait…"
The enemy formations moved closer through the rain.
Artillery walkers rolled forward.
Tanks rumbled across the mud.
The battlefield was almost ready.
"Wait…"
The timer reached zero.
I smiled slightly.
"And now," I said quietly,
"it's time."
---
### The Attack
The Juggernaut roared as its engines surged to life.
The massive vehicle lurched forward across the mud.
Nine more Juggernauts followed directly behind us.
Elsewhere along the defensive perimeter, five additional armored squads surged forward to support the attack.
The battle had begun.
Our strategy was simple.
Or at least simple in theory.
**Aggressive Fire Defense.**
The name wasn't exactly poetic, but it worked.
We couldn't simply charge blindly into enemy territory.
We were outnumbered.
Badly.
The enemy had over a **million troops, droids, and vehicles** across the planet.
If we lost our base, we lost everything.
So we built a fortress.
And we fought from it.
Behind our lines, hidden among rocky cliffs several kilometers away, our **Pelta-class frigate** sat concealed inside a natural canyon.
It served as our hospital.
Its engines were shut down to reduce energy signatures.
The saved power had been redirected into shields and medical systems.
It was our lifeline.
If we lost that ship…
We lost the wounded.
And probably the campaign.
---
### On the Roof
Back outside, I climbed onto the roof platform of the Juggernaut.
Rain hammered against my armor.
I raised a weapon rarely used on the battlefield.
My **lightsaber rifle**.
The weapon had a special firing mode called **scatter-shot**.
I had tested it in the air before.
But never against ground targets.
"Let's see how this works," I muttered.
I aimed toward the densest cluster of enemy armor.
"Firing."
A streak of brilliant blue energy shot across the battlefield.
The beam struck the ground among the enemy formation—
And detonated.
The explosion expanded outward like a miniature nuclear blast.
A sphere of energy nearly **one hundred meters wide** erupted across the muddy plain.
Droid tanks flipped into the air.
Militia vehicles disintegrated.
Shockwaves tore through entire formations.
When the smoke cleared…
More than **a hundred enemy tanks** were destroyed or crippled.
Ahsoka stared at the devastation through her binoculars.
"…Master."
"Yes?"
"Remind me never to stand in front of that thing."
I smirked slightly.
"Noted."
---
### Command Orders
I switched back to the command channel.
"All armored units — advance."
"Search for enemy commanders."
Blam looked confused.
"How do we identify them, sir?"
"Look for the shiny ones."
He blinked.
"…Sir?"
"I know it sounds strange," I said.
"But it's correct."
On Jabiim, noble warrior families passed down ceremonial weapons for centuries.
Swords.
Shields.
All forged from rare **Jabiim ore**.
Symbols of status.
Symbols of command.
Which meant the officers always stood out.
"Find the ones carrying those weapons," I finished.
"Those are their commanders."
Blam nodded slowly.
"Understood."
Outside, engines roared as our tanks pushed forward through the storm.
And the battlefield of Jabiim erupted into full war.