I leaned back wearily on the cot inside the Juggernaut's cramped compartment. Our squad had returned to base only minutes ago, and for once there were a couple of hours that could be devoted to rest. It wasn't much, but on Jabiim even a short break felt like a luxury.
These days the exhaustion was constant — both physical and mental.
The main culprit was **Battle Meditation**. I had begun using it more and more frequently, diving into that strange state where the Force allowed me to feel the flow of battle itself. From there I could sense movements before they happened, anticipate attacks, and guide our troops away from disasters waiting just over the horizon.
It had saved us more times than I could count.
But every use came with a price.
Headaches that felt like knives driven through my skull.
Nosebleeds that soaked through my gloves.
And sometimes… brief blackouts where the world simply vanished.
Still, I kept using it.
Again and again.
Because without it, we would already be dead.
---
We had been on **Jabiim** for ten days now.
Six of those days had been nothing but combat.
After the first massive assault, we had managed to cool the locals' enthusiasm slightly. Entire formations of droids and nationalist fighters had been wiped out. One prisoner had been captured, and the enemy's main strike force had been crippled.
Unfortunately, that small victory hadn't lasted long.
Just yesterday our communications lieutenant intercepted a transmission.
The **Trade Federation** and the **Techno Union** had sent reinforcements.
Ten massive **Lucrehulk-class battleship** transports had arrived in orbit, each one packed with combat droids. Alongside them were approximately **fifty Munificent-class star frigate** and **thirty Recusant-class light destroyer** warships.
Fortunately, our fleet had already evacuated before those reinforcements arrived.
Otherwise we would have been destroyed in orbit.
So far, luck remained on our side. Jabiim's weather was brutal — endless storms and violent atmospheric turbulence made large-scale flight operations extremely difficult.
That bought us time.
Not much.
But enough.
---
Our losses were already severe.
Two thousand clones dead.
Fifteen hundred wounded.
Nearly half of our support droids had been destroyed as well, though that loss was easier to accept. Machines could be replaced.
Clones could not.
Outside the Juggernaut, the vehicles bore the scars of constant combat. The massive armored transports were covered in burn marks and gouges from blaster fire. Their paint had long since been stripped away by explosions and shrapnel.
But they were still operational.
Still moving.
Still killing.
---
We had adopted something resembling **cavalry warfare**.
Instead of sitting inside the base and waiting to be overwhelmed, we launched constant counterattacks within a forty-kilometer radius. Supply lines were ambushed. Reinforcement columns were destroyed. Enemy formations preparing to attack the base were struck from behind before they could even begin their advance.
We would return briefly to resupply ammunition and fuel.
Then we would ride out again.
Sometimes we drove straight through enemy columns like a hammer through glass.
It was brutal.
But it worked.
---
Ahsoka had practically taken up permanent residence inside the Juggernaut's turret.
From what I could tell, she was trying to fight mental exhaustion with physical exhaustion.
She barely slept anymore.
None of us did.
We all looked terrible.
Pale faces.
Dark circles under our eyes.
Movements too quick, too sharp — the reflexes of soldiers living on adrenaline and caffeine.
---
The wounded were another problem.
Those still capable of holding a weapon stayed on the front lines. Everyone else was transferred to our hospital ship, a **Pelta-class frigate** hidden among the cliffs.
Even after extensive modifications the frigate could only hold around **1,500 patients**.
It was already full.
Two surgical teams worked without rest, fueled almost entirely by stimulants.
Frankly, I didn't care how they managed it.
All that mattered was that they kept saving lives.
Evacuation off-world was impossible.
We were completely cut off.
---
The worst enemy wasn't even the separatists.
It was the planet itself.
Endless rain.
Endless mud.
Everything was soaked.
Weapons jammed. Armor rusted. Boots sank into the ground with every step. Water fell from the sky in an endless curtain that never seemed to stop.
And through it all came the enemy.
Wave after wave.
Droids marched forward without fear, their blasters glowing red-hot from constant firing. The Jabiimi nationalists followed them with fanatical determination.
Sometimes the fighting devolved into brutal close combat.
Vibroblades.
Knives.
Fists.
Blood mixed with mud until the ground itself seemed to bleed.
The nationalists attacked like possessed warriors, screaming and charging through the rain.
The clones responded differently.
Silently.
Methodically.
Efficiently.
Their vibroblades flashed, and bodies fell.
Then the nationalists would retreat.
Only to return hours later for another attack.
---
One small miracle had occurred a few days earlier.
We had finally established contact with the local **Jabiimi Resistance**.
A messenger had arrived from **Orlis Gillmun**, the leader of the pro-Republic loyalists.
The messenger turned out to be a girl — barely more than a teenager.
When I asked why she was fighting, she simply said her home had been destroyed and her parents killed.
She had nothing left.
Several fighters accompanied her, but their numbers were small.
To be honest, I wasn't thrilled.
The loyalists either couldn't help us… or didn't want to.
After evaluating our situation, they had probably already written us off as dead men.
Still.
I handed the girl a **holodisk** containing a message for the **Jedi Council**.
She promised it would reach them.
I hoped she was telling the truth.
---
The base alarm suddenly blared.
I sighed and stood up.
Through the rain I could already see the next enemy column approaching.
"Another line of troops," I muttered.
The tactical scanner confirmed it.
Twenty **AAT battle tanks**.
Five **MTT transports**.
Not exactly a subtle assault.
I stepped onto the Juggernaut's observation deck and raised my **lightsaber rifle**.
Five shots.
Five flashes of blue energy.
Five explosions.
The tanks erupted into towering fireballs, their ammunition detonating inside the hulls. The MTT transports fared no better — within seconds the entire column had become a line of burning wreckage.
The rain hissed as it struck molten metal.
Smoke drifted across the battlefield.
Then I felt it.
A presence in the Force.
Dark.
Raw.
Untrained.
I frowned slightly.
"So," I murmured.
"The Dathomiri finally sent someone."
The presence was powerful but crude — like a raging fire without control.
A warrior.
Perhaps several.
I ignited my lightsaber slowly.
"Well then," I said quietly.
"Come and get me."
---
High above the storm clouds of **Jabiim**, aboard a **Munificent-class star frigate**, a massive red-skinned warrior stood silently in the dim command chamber.
In one hand he held a double-bladed lightsaber.
In the other, a brutal war axe.
His yellow eyes burned with anticipation.
This was **Savage Opress**.
He had come to this world for one purpose.
To fulfill the will of **Mother Talzin**.
And to begin the hunt.