Tor Zastall was led to the hanger by his droid escorts. He silently eyed the place, filled with Naboo that the droids were keeping prisoner, and a small fleet worth of fighter ships. It struck Tor as bad planning, keeping so many enemies in a bay filled with spacecraft. None of the ships even appeared to be tampered with or otherwise neutralized. For all of Gunray's paranoia, he hadn't taken much effort to deal with potential security problems.
"The Viceroy wants this prisoner interrogated and processed for information," the lead droid said to a B1 command droid.
"Roger, roger. A MED-47 is en route," the commander acknowledged, turning minutely to address the human. "You will join with the other prisoners for now."
"As I've been told," Tor said with a hint of smugness, walking towards the group of captured humans, taking a seat among them.
Most of the Naboo gave him brief looks, except for one next to him. "Who are you?" he asked in a low voice.
Tor paused, looking almost surprised before chuckling under his breath. The man gave him a strange look for the reaction, prompting Tor to silence himself with a smirk. "Sorry. Just been a long time since someone didn't recognize my face," he stated idly. "Why are you all here?"
"Gunray filled up all the cells with prisoners. Officials, their families," was the answer given.
Tor nodded in understanding before turning to look the man straight in the eye. "When it happens, it'll happen fast. Try not to get shot," he said lowly.
The Naboo's eyes went wide, and several others stiffened, but none dared react more, lest they drew the attention of their captors.
"Prisoner Tor Zastall," the B1 commander addressed, pointing a blaster at the man. "Cease your communications and move to the side."
"Roger, roger," Tor grunted as he rose up, looking towards the entrance as another droid entered.
This one was grey with a blue torso, and instead of legs, its bottom half had four wheels that allowed it to roll around. Its head had an antenna on one side with large silver spherical devices for eyes, each looking around independent of the other. It also appeared to be fitted with what looked like a breath apparatus over where its mouth should be.
The MED-47 unit rolled up to the commander droid, one eye on Tor. "Is the subject requiring repairs or torture?" it asked, the hands on its skinny arms tinkering with a box that rested on a platform on top of the back set of wheels.
"Torture, L47," the command unit answered.
"Wonderful," L47 said with a hint of relish to its robotic voice.
Tor looked almost amused by the sadism the droid exhibited, taking a seat on a cargo box as the droid approached him. "Do you even know what information your Viceroy wants?" Tor asked idly.
"Unimportant. My task is to make you speak, via pain," L47 explained, pulling out a syringe from the box beneath it. "My patients have reported that the sensation caused by this is akin to tiny vermin festering, breeding, and eating under your skin. Do tell me if you experience a differing result."
Tor did not answer, nor did he resist as the droid took his arm and attempted to jab the needle through the sleeve and into his skin.
Attempted being the key term.
"Is there a problem?" one of the B1 battle droids asked.
L47 cocked its head as it held up the syringe, showing the tip broken. "You failed to remove the armor on the patent's limb," it explained, its disapproval obvious as it pulled up the sleeve to reveal the steely metal covering the man's arm, extending from the wrist to near the elbow. "This will require removal."
"Allow me," Tor said, casually removing his hands from the now-obviously broken cuffs.
It took the droids about three seconds too long to realize what had happened. "Wait, what?" one of them said in surprise.
"Blast h-!" the command unit tried to order, only for Tor to throw the cuffs at the droid, knocking its head loose as the machine fell to the ground.
L47 tried to roll backward until Tor kicked it over and jumped to grab the B1 commander's blaster, barely avoiding several shots taken at him before he leaped and rolled over the cargo box before shooting two of the other droids nearest the prisoners.
The captives took this as their own prompt for action, grabbing the weapons of the downed droids as several brave souls jumped at the distracted droids nearest them. The rest ran to cover before the other droids, too far away to be physically attacked, could fire on them.
Tor watched this intently while pulling on the armguard, adjusting it so it was on the top of his arm instead of the bottom now, and covering the back of his hand. He leaned his head to the side to avoid a droid taking a shot at him, which he returned by blasting it in the chest. He paused, just for a second, as the blasters rang out from the other side of his cover. Five droids still, two further away. He eyed the droids in front of him. The Naboo had dealt with most of them, but he spied two unlucky fools that were wrestling with a droid, which still had its blaster in its free arm, having trouble angling it while the two tried to disable the droid without giving it a chance to shoot them.
Tor decided to make it easier on them, shooting the blaster-wielding arm off at the elbow. Limb and weapon clambered to the floor as they now quickly and easily dealt with the droid.
Down to four droids, his now-free allies had taken one out as well. Good, time for him to go to work.
He raised his arm up, letting the blaster shoot the metal for a second before he rolled to shoot from out of the side of his cover.
Three bodies went down, but he heard two more pairs of mechanical feet. Reinforcements, but just whatever had been right outside. At least there were no droidekas.
He looked over to the nearest cargo crate, seeing the man he had been sitting next to, holding a blaster as well. Tor made a motion for him to pass him the rifle. The resistance fighter looked skeptical but ultimately slid the weapon across the floor, ducking back to barely avoid being shot.
Tor reached forth and grabbed the second blaster, turning on his knees before taking a breath for an instant. With that, he sprung up above his cover and blasted three of the droids, before the fourth shot one of the blasters out of his hands. Tor was almost impressed, throwing the damaged weapon at the nearest droid, making it stumble while Tors used his armguard to block the other droid's attack. He shot that one before it could aim elsewhere, while the final droid righted itself.
Tor was about to shoot it as well before another shot took out one of the droid's legs. Tor glanced back to his new ally, now wielding another blaster. Tor nodded, turning back to the droid that was struggling to aim from its spot on the floor, and promptly decommissioned it with a final shot to the head.
"All clear!" Tor called over his shoulder.
The organics promptly came out from their hiding spots, quickly gathering the weapons off the droids.
"Sorry about that shot," the man said as he approached, obviously tired but trying not to show it.
"You did good for a man I'd say hasn't slept in two days," Tor said with a nod.
"Gavyn Sykes," the Naboo introduced. "What'd they say your name was?"
"Boba Fett," the Mandalorian introduced. "How many of you can fly?"
Gavyn snorted. "Me and a few others, as best we can still. I hear the droids learned after the queen escaped. Most of the pilots are in the cells," he explained, making Boba settle into an expression of grim thoughtfulness. "I don't suppose you're with the Republic?"
"No, but my employer is with your queen," Boba explained. "Long story short, she found some fellow enemies of the Federation."
"Please tell me none of them are Hutts," Gavyn said with a dark scowl.
Boba almost answered before giving Gavyn a pointed look. "Are the Hutts involved in this too?" he asked, knowing that could be very dangerous. He didn't recall the Hutts having anything to do with Naboo, but then again, he never looked too deep into this incident. And Jabba wasn't the only Hutt to worry about, especially back in this time.
"Just one trying to get some free labor off our suffering," Gavyn answered bitterly. "Last time I trust a Hutt Crime Lord."
Boba had many questions now but decided they'd have to wait. "Well, Plan A is in the pits," Boba muttered in consideration. "You know these men, so I'll ask you. Do you think you could hold this hanger for an hour?"
"What happens in an hour?" Gavyn questioned with a scowl.
"We take back your planet," Boba answered factually.
Gavyn gained a glimmer of renewed determination as he glanced around, plans sputtering through his mind. "I don't suppose you have any more of that?"
Boba glanced down at the thin piece of spare beskar armor. For obvious reasons, going undercover was rarely an option for him. But he kept this around just in case he had a job that required him to go light. "None on me," Boba admitted, looking around as well. "If you can't hold them here, we need to disappear."
Gavyn gave a tired smirk. "I think I have a few ideas. You mind lending a hand or you need to be elsewhere?"
Boba paused, scowling in consideration. He was ahead of schedule. He thought he'd have to sneak and fight his way to the hanger, not be taken there as a prisoner. He listened closely, hearing no rush of clanking mechanical feet, so the droids hadn't managed to get an alert out. But if he sprung his end of things too soon, Gunray might recall part or even all of the droid army.
"You got fifteen minutes."
Meanwhile
In the distance, the barrage of laser cannons and blaster rifles echoed faintly, like a distant storm on the horizon.
"You got a clear shot yet?"
"Not yet. The shields are just in the way of that command droid," Sol Sixxa grunted from his position in a tree. "This one is almost smart."
"Just smart enough to know something is up," the voice over his communicator answered. "Still think me and the Havoc would have been better use up there."
"I'd agree, if not for the seismic charges," Sixxa remarked. "What's the plan now?"
"I'm having the Gungans retreat. Either the droids follow them or they don't. The trap should still work either way."
"Careful, Nym. This droid doesn't need to be a military genius to screw us over," Sol cautioned. "Give me three minutes after the retreat starts again. I'm going to try and get a better angle on that droid.
"You have two," Nym said as he looked out over the grassy plains, towards the battle. The Feeorin smirked to himself. He always enjoyed a good fight against Federation scrapbots. This wasn't exactly how he would have done things if he was running the entire outfit. But he wasn't, he didn't have the leverage here to be in charge of this group. Still, he and his Lok Revenants had opted to join this lovely group of Trade Federation enemies, if only for this battle. After all, it wasn't every day he got the chance to help take on the Viceroy himself.
Other poodoo was going on, the pirate knew that. Flat out blockading and invading a planet like this, the stuff he heard about Coruscant, the Sith and the Mandalorian pair. Something big was going on, or had already happened. But he'd figure out what another day. For right now, he was just itching to turn these droids into spare parts.
Granted, if he was being honest, what had surprised him the most had been one of the maids or whatever that followed the queen around.
Flashback
Like many people, Padme was shocked when she first met the infamous pirate Nym. Unlike most people, it wasn't the large, green male that left her speechless. It was his comrades.
There was nothing particularly alarming about the Toydarian himself, but seeing one gave her flashbacks to Tatooine, to the shop owner that had owned Ani and his mother. That resummoned the disturbing memories of Vader putting Sebulba through an active engine, herself and Anakin watching on in horror. It was an unwelcome image, one she didn't need right now, and she quickly suppressed it.
The sole human male of the group, however, truly shocked her. Because it was hard for her to not take notice of his uniform, that of her own security force. She studied his face for a moment, vaguely recalling a pilot that had just joined the ranks, who was thought dead.
"Rhys Dallows?" she said in surprise.
He looked to her in surprise, eyes widening minutely before regaining his composure. "Good to see you as well, Handmaiden Padme."
Padme was stunned as well but did not show it. So surprised by this man's presence, she forgot she was currently in the role of pretending to be her own handmaiden.
It was a precaution Duke Brummel agreed with, so she continued the act when not alone with the inner circle. As much as everyone here was united against the Trade Federation, one could never know when someone might turn traitor or secretly be a mole for the enemy.
"Oh? You had a girl waiting for you back home, Dallows?" the female of the four asked with a smirk.
"Nothing like that, Sage," Rhys answered good-naturedly. "The handmaidens are just as much part of the security force as I am."
"Yes, which raises the question of how you ended up here?" Padme asked with a curious scowl. "Last I heard, you were considered killed in action, along with Essara Till."
Rhys's expression soured. "Essara...didn't make it," he said, giving a bitter yet grateful smile to the Toydarian. "I wouldn't have either, if not for Reti here. We've been giving the Trade Federation hell. I just...didn't think they'd go this far while I was gone."
Padme nodded solemnly. "None of our worse fears approached this reality," she agreed, looking over the others. "I assume you all have your reasons for taking a stand here?"
Nym nodded, having let the conversation draw out on its own. "We had our own plans too, but-" he paused, glancing around the hanger. "I couldn't resist taking a bigger bite out of the scraps."
"So, do you Naboo-types just grow up really fast, or is there a reason your queen is barely a teenager?" Vana Sage asked tactlessly.
"Sage," Rhys said in exasperation while Nym snorted with a smirk.
"What? You wouldn't answer it, so I asked her," Vana said with a shrug.
"She's right you know," Reti agreed with a chuckle. "If you wanted her to keep quiet, you should have just told her when she asked."
"It is quite alright," Padme said with a patient smile. "Most people from other worlds wonder that. I suppose that we do mature mentally faster than other humans, in some ways. The Queen was governing the capital before her election."
Reti gave a chuckle. "I'd almost think you lot thought politics was some kind of fun or something."
Padme deigned not to elaborate on that topic. Every culture was strange to outsiders. The Senate had left a sour taste in her mouth, but her journey left her more aware that even the definition of self-interest differed from planet to planet, species to species. What was important to one society was a topic of humor to another.
"On behalf of the queen, I offer you all the gratitude of Naboo," Padme offered, looking to Rhys curiously. "But I'm sure everyone will be interested to hear this story of yours Dallows."
Rhys shrugged, trying not to seem too formal around someone that was just supposed to be a handmaiden and not the queen herself. "I'm sure there will be a lot of people with stories to tell when this is all over."
On that, Padme agreed with earnest. The Invasion of Naboo would be something her people would tell stories of for generations to come, for better or ill.
End of Flashback
"It has begun."
Padme was brought back to the present by the Sith Lord's voice. No one questioned how Vader knew this, accepting it as fact. The small group had managed to enter Theed unnoticed. They were mostly members of the Naboo resistance and Security Force, along with two Meres from Sol Sixxa.
"Gunray kept back more droids than we expected," Panaka informed with a scowl as they gathered in an alley. "Getting closer to the palace won't be easy."
Padme paused before looking to Vader. "How long until Boba Fett does his part?"
"Minutes at most," the Dark Lord concluded. "But we may require another distraction with this many droids."
"What do you propose?" Panaka questioned warily. He trusted the Sith to an extent, but Vader's plans often seemed dangerous from his perspective.
"Do you trust me, Your Highness?" Vader asked simply.
"Of course," Padme answered with a nod.
"I wasn't addressing you this time," Vader said, looking to Sabe, dressed in a lighter attire, but still disguised as the queen with an ornate hairstyle and painted face.
The body double raised an eyebrow, as everyone looked intrigued now. "The Queen trusts you, Darth Vader," she answered meaningfully.
"Good," Vader said, raising his gaze to the sky, others following suit. Several explosions rang out in the distance, the Slave II zooming by overhead. "The rest of you must wait until they're focused on us."
"Vader, what exactly is the plan?" Padme asked, more concerned now that it wasn't her own life on the line.
"That a Queen should not have to stoop to sneaking into her own palace."
Sabe's eyes grew large for an instant before steeling herself, clutching the blaster tightly as she followed in Vader's wake.
"I'm sorry, what is he planning?" one of the Naboo resistance members asked in confusion.
"Something crazy," one of the meres retorted, watching as Vader and the false-queen walked down the alley.
"...Any advice?" Sabe asked from behind Vader, trying to mentally prepare herself.
"Whatever happens, stay behind me," Vader instructed, glancing down the street as droids began to filter into the palace. The Slave II had vanished from the skies for now. "This only works if you survive."
"Right," Sabe accepted, trying to calm her nerves. She silently went through the breathing control exercises she had learned from her days learning to be a hallikset player. A strange smile came to her face, if only for a moment. It seemed like a distant memory when she first met Padme. What a strange string of events had unfolded since then. Just helping Padme adjust and prepare for being a young queen, Sabe thought that would be the toughest time of her life.
How naive she had been.
She was afraid, but she'd do this gladly for her planet, and for Padme; Her queen and her dear friend.
Her only regret was that she might die today, never knowing for sure why this Darth Vader was so invested in aiding them, in aiding the queen.
As if on cue, Vader stepped out of the alley and began to march down the main street of Theed, towards the palace. Sabe kept pace a small distance behind him, muscles tense as she waited for the droids to take notice of them.
"By the depths, he is insane," the mere said, somewhere between awe and disbelief, the silence stretching out.
And then the air of Theed was filled with blaster fire.
Meanwhile
The enemy was in retreat again.
OOM-9 considered not pursuing them further. The distance would not affect the aim with targets so large. In fact, more range would allow more of his troops to focus on one dome at a time. The fallacy with that tactic was that he was sent here to eliminate the enemy forces, not just defeat them. The Viceroy did not want this army to regroup and return elsewhere. Thus his parameters were to eliminate at least a third of the army and take as many prisoners as he could if they routed.
If the organics made it to the forest, many would escape once they created sufficient distance between the droids and themselves.
Thus, he instructed his troops to keep pace with the shie-
OOM-9 logic processors were suddenly screaming alerts to him. An enemy ship had made it to Theed and taken out two of the tanks before briefly docking in the royal hanger. It was departing now, and all reports said its trajectory was in this direction.
His audio receiver detected it before his optics did, the sound of a starship's engines. Self-preservation protocols dictated he should retreat into his tank, and so he did. It proved to be the correct action, as several loud lasers shot off, followed by three explosions. Processing that he was not damaged, OOM-9 rose up instantly from his tank again.
"Blast him!" he ordered, pointing up in the direction of the ship. The tanks began to turn and angle their cannons up while a few battle groups of droids aimed upwards for when the ship came back for another run.
But the ship didn't. It ascended to the atmosphere, heading into orbit. If OOM-9's calculations were correct, it was heading to the battle against the Vuutun Palaa.
"Continue the attack!" he ordered out, motioning to the shields again. The droid looked to the AATs, finding that three had been destroyed. That was a loss, but not a substantial one. Perhaps the ship was simply providing whatever support it could while it was in the area.
If he was capable of it, OOM-9 would have scowled as he noticed something in the distance, movement in the plains beyond the battle. Pulling up his binoculars, he scanned the area, spotting several sets of large boulders covered in foliage. Snipers were his first suspicion. The structures were big enough to give organics cover while taking aim, but why hadn't any droid been attacked yet? Why hadn't he been targeted himself? Scouts then, relaying information? But there was nothing to relay. OOM-9 had his entire force in view of the enemy; there was nothing to observe that the Gungans couldn't see from the front lines.
Then something computed. All of the stones were in sets of two, and each set looked identical. Rock formations normally weren't that symmetrical.
He pulled the binoculars back in surprise as another great dome shield rose up in the distance…then another…and another. The organics had to have planted and camouflaged them with vegetation within the past thirteen hours. But the domes appeared to be empty. He gave no change in orders, not seeing any hint of even what the intent of this trap was yet.
And then, from the far-off tree lines, a force of kaadu-mounted Gungans rode forth, charging into the dome, and then through it, emerging out and charging to the next.
It was obviously a massive way to cover their advance, to prevent the droids from simply terminating them before they got close. But they had miscalculated, it appeared. The cavalry would not emerge close enough to the droid army to charge them without taking heavy fi-
OOM-9 felt his processors stall as he plotted the trajectory of the charging enemies. They were not heading for his own army at all, but to the rear, to the hill…which would take them right into the MTTs.
"AATs, target the cavalry! Battalions three, five, and nine! Fall back!" he ordered, sending the signal for the droidekas to activate and leave the MTTS as quickly as they could.
The tanks were slow to move though. Not only did they have to turn around, but because the enemy was approaching from the side, they had to move out of formation to avoid firing at each other. And the gap between the shields was small. They had roughly thirty seconds now before the incoming force would emerge from the final shield, and they'd be two seconds from the MTTs.
The droidekas were rolling out of the transports now. He'd likely lose them all in this attack, but losing their ammunition in the MTTs was not a viable option. He scanned back to the cavalry. They had taken hits from the cannon fire, but their force was still largely intact. The angle and curves of the domes were now blocking most of the tanks. He'd just have to eliminate the bulk of them before the charge made contact, then-
OOM-9 let out an electronic groan as a bullet ripped through his torso and power pack. His body slumped against the tank as he processed that he had been shot. His systems were still operational, but only his reserve power remained. He'd be offline in fifteen seconds.
Something hit his tank as it began to tilt and slowly spin. He was given a clean final view of the battle. Several of the droidekas were taken out by sniper fire. The Kaadu cavalry destroyed the rest with their spears and bombs, tearing into the MTTs as well. All the other OOM units were in those transports. With the command droids neutralized, the rest would only run on their basic commands of eliminating the enemy.
His tank continued to turn, and he saw that the main Gungan force had ceased their retreat, the droid infantry passing into the dome. There, his fellow B1s were held back by the shield line as the organic rained their plasma-based bombs on them, short frying many of them. The tanks were still pointed at the cavalry, and would not turn to support the infantry.
Finally, as his optics began to power down, he perceived one of the enemy dome shields falling as they rained more Boomas on the distracted AATs.
He gave one last command while he had the chance:
Charge into the shields.
Meanwhile
Boba Fett was no stranger to dogfights, or large-scale battles in space. He grew up in the Clone Wars, and the Age of the Empire had its own fair share of conflict even before Yavin.
Thus, he scanned the battle almost instinctually; Vulture droids filled the space like a protective swarm around the lucrehulk. They were trying to fight off the Anti-Federation Interceptors while the Clamator took shots at the Vuutun Palaa from across the vacuum.
It was a rather clumsy contest between the two larger ships. The Lucrehulk obviously wasn't as weaponized as it would have been in the clone wars, but the Clamator was still just a prototype of the earliest republic warships. Compared to those, this was like watching two Hutts racing.
That said, the starships were performing vaguely better, despite the lack of experience on the part of his allies and the droid-ships being as cheaply programed as possible while still being useful. Vultures attempted to outmaneuver the interceptors with numbers, but the Vulptereens were excellent pilots, each easily worth at least three droid ships.
Now it was time for him to even the playing field.
"Attention all friendlies, this is Slave II entering the fray," he informed over the communications.
"They hear you, Slave II," Cifo Klatt informed.
Nothing else was said, nothing needed to be. All of the Anti-Federation pilots were briefed on what his arrival to the battle meant.
He swooped into the fray, weapons hot as he blasted several vultures off the tail of an interceptor, heading closer to the lucrehulk. He expertly dodged and evaded their torrents, his raider warning him that he had more and more on his tail…just as he wanted.
He flew down, under the large freighter with enemies pursuing him. He dived up inside of the ring of the cargo ship, depositing a seismic charge right before accelerating over the top.
The space was filled with a giant blue wave within the lucrehulk that expanded out rapidly. It tore through the vultures like a lightsaber through glass. All of the interceptors were prepared enough to dodge it, minus one attempting to lead his own tail of enemies into the shockwave.
"Mirhs is down!"
Boba Fett ignored the exclamation over the comms, focusing his attention on the shields of the lucrehulk. They rippled blue from the bomb but didn't fall. "Figures. The one thing they didn't skip credits on was the shield generator," Boba murmured. He wasn't surprised, just disappointed.
"Fett, be careful," Cifo's voice came in as a warning. "The Neimoidians on the Lucrehulk were spooked by that. They'll probably start prioritizing you when you set another one or two off."
"Thanks for the heads up," Boba said neutrally, weaving between more enemies. He already expected as much. Slave I or Slave II, his ship often stood out. "Any sign of their reinforcements from the other freighters?"
"Negative. Wait a minute," Cifo answered, his scowl audible through the communications. "Never mind, they're coming now."
"We have five minutes," Boba predicted gravely. Luckily, being in the pre-war era, the droids didn't have any dedicated bomber ships. They didn't need any, not yet. And the way the Clamator was, they'd just have to focus fire on it long enough to overpower the shields.
Taking out this lucrehulk just became a priority. The droids would win a battle of true attrition and they knew it. Luckily, unlike the droids, they actually did have some ships retrofitted to be bombers.
"I'll buy time, the rest of you get that shield down," Boba instructed.
He had eight more of those charges, which should be enough to clear out a large chunk of their enemies. He was still trying to shake the instincts that told him a lot more droids were coming. Because the lucrehulks he knew carried at least a thousand vultures each. But it looked like these ones were fielding only a hundred. And three hundred was manageable.
He set off another charge and was almost caught in his own blast when he had to make an emergency turn to avoid collision with some vulture debris. The Slave II could have tanked the hit, but avoiding collisions was a pilot's first instinct, and not one easily ignored.
He watched his radar as the enemies vanished, dropping like flies. No friendlies went down this time. Good.
He had a few other tricks he was saving for the other lucrehulks. He could take this shield down now already, but he wanted to get more rats in one nest- his charges were definitely hurting that shield. Besides, the capital ship gave his allies some cover to hide behind when the bombs went off. If this dog fight was done in the open space, he'd just be getting more chances for friendly fire.
After all, it was bad for business, being a bounty hunter with a reputation for friendly fire.