Jedi Insurgency 306

Retreating to Umbara, the journey was a relatively short 2 and a half days away. Corvus hadn't done much during that time besides extend his power outward, and heal the legionaries in the other ships. He had also-along with the help of his aides & allies-created a list of systems to besiege, woo, and conquer. 

Once they had arrived above the gaseous planet, he had nearly caused a galactic incident when he landed most of his fleet on the surface of the planet. Finding a wide open area, the dozens of capital ships & their supports cast an awe inspiring sight. 

Rank upon rank filled in a large, flat plateau. Clones in scorched beskar, Eriaduan volunteers in battered field uniforms, Ongree warriors bearing the long spears of their homeworld, and rows of HK droids whose armor remained pitted by lightsabers and Imperial fire. 

Above them hung the torn standard of the Starcrusher Corp. Half of it had burned away, yet the emblem at its center remained visible.

Corvus had forbidden anyone from repairing it, as this battle standard had been in every major campaign since the liberation of Malastare. Thus, he concluded that some scars deserved to be seen. 

He stood upon a raised stone dais wearing his white robes and that familiar mask. No crown rested upon his head, yet he felt a strong sense of belonging from these people more fervent than that of a group of subjects before their king. 

Commander Pots stood several paces behind him. The clone’s armor had been reworked into perfection, yet the marks of battle had remained, a feature of Corvus being able to adjust gear & its cosmetics. Hondo Ohnaka occupied a place of suspicious prominence near the front, dressed in his finest coat and surrounded by pirates who had spent the entire morning attempting to look respectable.

When Corvus stepped forward, the murmuring of the troops became silent.

“Soldiers of the Republic, Veterans of Kuat. You were ordered to seize the greatest shipyards in the galaxy. You fought against entrenched legions, fortified cities, orbital bombardment, starvation, isolation, and an enemy whose reinforcements seemed without end. You were asked to perform the impossible, and despite all the odds stacked against you, you very nearly did.” 

Corvus descended from the dais and approached a column of troops. 

The Eriaduans stood straight as he neared them. They had begun the campaign as laborers, students, smugglers, exiled soldiers, and refugees. Most had possessed little more than old rifles and a hatred of the Empire with six months of basic training between them. By the end of the siege, they had fought beside the clones as disciplined infantry.

A young Lieutenant held their green-and-silver banner aloft with pride. Three blaster holes had pierced the emblem of Eriadu, yet the men had not deigned to stitch it over, taking pride in its survival. 

“These men came to us without obligation, Kuat was not their home. Its factories were not theirs, nor did those streets carry any memories of their childhood. Yet they volunteered because they understood that the road to Eriadu ran through Kuat.”

He stopped before their Lieutenant, saluting the young man, and continued speaking. 

“They fought for a future they might never live to see. They fought so their children would inherit a free world, one cleansed of smog & decay.”

Corvus took a silver cloth from an attendant and fastened it to the Eriaduan banner. Upon it had been engraved a single word: FORWARD.

“The Eriaduan Volunteers are hereby granted the Republic Citation for Collective Valor. When Eriadu is free, this banner will be carried at the head of the liberation column.”

The Lieutenant’s smartly returned the salute. Behind him, several men lowered their heads as they thought of the world they had left behind. Some looked lost, others hopeful, but amongst them all, there was a keen edge, like a weapon just ready to be raised in violence, they would perform when duty called upon them. 

Corvus raised a fist against his chest, calmly meeting those gazes one by one. 

“Eriadu will remember that its freedom was purchased by the men & women who spent their blood and treasure.”

“For Eriadu!” The volunteers answered as one. 

The shout rolled across the plateau, and was  taken up by clones who had fought beside them.

“For Eriadu!”

Next he moved to the Ongree, the few of them, that is, that had survived. 

Their bulbous eyes and flexible mouths made their expressions difficult for most Humans to read, but Corvus felt their pride through the Force. Beside them stood the HK units, motionless save for the occasional adjustment of a photoreceptor.

“When the enemy’s Dark Acolytes entered the siege, they expected terror to break our lines. They descended upon our exhausted soldiers who had already fought for thirty-one days, and carried their red blades expecting an easy victory…” 

Several clones growled at the memory, and one man with a lightsaber mark on his helmet was particularly eye-catching. 

“None ever suspected the might of the Revanites. Long may they live.” 

An Ongree Captain stepped forward, one side of his ceremonial armor still bore a melted line from shoulder to hip, and he stomped down his saber pike with a meaty thump. 

“They held the eastern redoubt long enough for the HK detachments to arrive. Together, they killed nine Acolytes, wounded four more, and prevented the collapse of the evacuation corridor. Had that corridor fallen, tens of thousands would have been trapped below the Imperial guns. Many of us standing here owe these warriors our lives.”

He presented the Ongree captain with the Crescent of Tython, then turned toward the HK ranks.

“HK units Seven, Aurek, Cresh, and Forn: step forward.”

Forty-seven assassin droids marched from formation with mechanical uniformity. Their leader halted before Corvus.

“Formal statement: Advancing upon enemies equipped with glowing melee weapons was tactically stimulating.”

A few tired laughs escaped the soldiers.

Corvus tilted his head to the side in curiosity. “You suffered an eighty-two-percent casualty rate.”

“Clarification: The casualty rate among the Dark Acolytes was one hundred percent.”

The valley erupted in laughter and cheers, even Corvus’s shoulders shifted with a quiet laugh.

“The surviving HK detachments are awarded the Order Master’s Unit Citation. Every destroyed member of your companies will be rebuilt, so long as a memory core, personality fragment, or sufficiently opinionated piece of wreckage can be recovered.”

“Grateful acknowledgment: We shall endeavor to remain sufficiently murderhappy.”

Corvus continued down the line until he reached Hondo Ohnaka. The pirate captain spread his arms before Corvus could speak, reaching out for a hug, somewhat breaking apart the formal, stuffy atmosphere of the awards ceremony. 

“My friend! Surely no medal could adequately capture the courage, sacrifice, and humility of the great Captain Hondo Ohnaka?!”

Someone among the clones coughed drily, and the wide grin on the Weequay'a face froze in place. A dry wind whistled by, and the pirate tipped his hat with a bow to his his face. 

Corvus faced him in silence, and Hondo slowly lowered his arms, awkwardly stepping away. 

During the siege, Imperial interdiction had cut the Starcrusher Corp off from food, medicine, power cells, and replacement shield generators. Three Republic convoys had attempted to break through. All three had been destroyed.

Hondo had succeeded four times.

He had smuggled supplies aboard garbage scows, ore haulers, and an Imperial prison barge whose crew had awakened several days later inside escape pods. On his final run, he had brought enough bacta to keep the field hospitals operating through the evacuation. Three of his ships had gone down over Kuat, and more than two hundred pirates had died.

For once, Hondo’s ever present smile faded before Corvus spoke.

“Hondo Ohnaka, history has called you a pirate, a smuggler, a thief, a liar, and on several occasions, an intolerable nuisance.”

Hondo nodded solemnly. “History has always been jealous.”

“History will also record that when an army was starving, you fed it. When our wounded were dying, you brought them medicine. When Imperial warships sealed every recognized approach to Kuat, you found roads no so-called military strategist knew existed.”

Corvus lifted a small case, and within rested a gold medallion bearing the broken chains of the Republic. “For extraordinary relief efforts under enemy fire, you are awarded the Medal of Civilian Valor, accompanied by one million Republic credits in relief merits.”

Hondo’s remaining solemnity fought a heroic battle against his instincts and lost.

“One million!?” The pirate said in shock. 

“One million.” Corvus plainly stated. 

“My word…my General! I accept this crushing burden on behalf of all humble and desperately underfunded pirates.” Hondo said with a ‘gracious' bow. 

“In addition, six armed transports captured during the campaign will be transferred to your command. Republic volunteers will be accepted for their crews, with wages paid for one standard year.” Corvus announced grandly, then leaned in close to whisper. “Don't spend that money all at once on hookers & pazaak, the men under your command will need it.” 

Hondo stared at him, then whispered back. “I am a pirate, scum, worst than the worst! Why would I want these goodie-two shoes, straight-lace wet behind the ears no-nonsense Bothans as my men?” 

Corvus placed the medal around Hondo’s neck, and shook his head with a wry grin. Ah, Hondo m'boy, if only you knew. 

“You went to Kuat for profit, but whatever songs are sung about Hondo Ohnaka in the millennia to come, the truth will sing another tune.”

Hondo looked down at the medal. His fingers closed around it. “Yes. Well. Make certain the songs mention the million credits.”

The soldiers applauded. It began among the clones who had unloaded Hondo’s supplies beneath enemy bombardment, then spread across the valley. Hondo turned toward them, sweeping off his hat and bowing deeply, though he kept one hand over his head, pretending to have trouble adjusting his goggles, but was in reality trying to hide his tears. 

At last, Corvus returned to the dais, and Commander Pots stepped forward.

Pots had landed on Kuat with a million soldiers. For more than a month, he had commanded them without orbital support, reliable resupply, or any promise of rescue. His forces had taken factories floor by floor and fortress by fortress. They had fought through poison gas, collapsing city sectors, armored counterattacks, Dark Acolytes, and legions three times their number.

The clone knelt before Corvus, and in the Force, he felt as if the young, artificially aged man before him was totally, and completely convinced. More than brotherhood, Pots was like a supplicant, like those Ongree that revered him. Although this made him somewhat uncomfortable, it was undeniable that the revanchist held great power. For mankind, belief was often a stronger force of nature than currency or benefits. It was a heavy cross to bear for him, but so long as it helped win the war…he would reluctantly allow such behavior. 

“Commander Pots, you were given an objective. When that objective became unattainable, you preserved your army. When retreat became impossible, you created fortresses from ruins, and held on longer than anyone else in your position could.”

He drew a decoration from its case, revealing a black star framed in crimson, forged from metal recovered from the Kuat Drive Yards.

“The Kuat Star has been created in recognition of this campaign. It will be awarded only to those who demonstrate exceptional command while surrounded, isolated, and under continuous enemy assault.”

Corvus pinned the first Kuat Star to Pots’s armor.

“No future recipient will wear it without knowing whose stand gave the medal its meaning.”

He then extended his hand.

“Rise, Marshal Pots.”

A murmur swept through the army, and Pots looked up in surprise. 

“Your promotion was approved unanimously by myself and the other Alliance leaders. The Starcrusher Corp held because you held. It followed because you led. I will require both again. Should the day come when I no longer breathe amongst these stars, the burden of seeing our vision through to the end rest upon your shoulders.” Corvus explained, and held out a hand, helping the newly dubbed Marshal stand. 

“I won’t fail you, sir.” Pots gruffly replied, saluting. 

“You did not fail me at Kuat.” Corvus murmured for what felt like the dozenth time by this point. 

After the cheering for Pots's promotion settled down, Corvus moved on to the last portion of the day's events. 

At that moment, rhe empty place beside the Starcrusher standard seemed suddenly vast.

“Admiral Clip could not stand with us tonight.” Corvus solemnly intoned. 

Above the dais, a blue hologram flickered to life. Clip appeared as he had before the final battle: armor clean, expression stern, hands clasped behind his back. He had remained aboard his doomed flagship while the Black Monolith closed upon him. He had turned his fleet against a vessel larger than a Super Star Destroyer and challenged the will of Vader himself.

“While our transports escaped Kuat, Admiral Clip placed himself between the Starcrusher Corp and the Empire. He remained after every tactical calculation advised withdrawal, and did what needed to be done to secure our future...”

The torn banner above him lowered to half-mast, and he looked up at the image of his old admiral then saluted. 

“Thank you, Clip. Your name has been recognized.”

Corvus faced the survivors, then bowed to them in turn. 

“Look around you, some of you were born in laboratories and given numbers in place of names. Some were built in factories and told that your future belonged in those factories. Some came from worlds the Empire declared broken, some were criminals, exiles, refugees, or the inheritors of the past. Those were your origins, they are not your limits.

The Starcrusher Corp was forged from everything the galaxy cast aside. On Kuat, you stood against three million Imperial elites, and tens of millions of Armymen. You endured their fleets, survived their Acolytes, and faced the Black Monolith's oppression.

The Empire will call Kuat its victory because it still possesses the shipyards. Let it. Let its Admirals celebrate the ground beneath their boots while they count the fleets & men they lost taking it. We carried away something greater than territory.”

His mask turned toward Pots, the Eriaduans, the Ongree, the HKs, Hondo, and the empty chair beneath Clip’s image.

“We carried away proof….proof that the Empire can bleed. Proof that its darkness can be endured. Proof that men created to obey can choose their own cause, and that those who once served tyrants can become the architects of a free galaxy.

And always commit these words to your mind: Remember those who fell behind us. Honor those who stand beside you. Fight for those who will come after.”

The Starcrusher standard rose once more, fluttering proudly in the wind. 

Torn.

Battered. 

Unconquered.

And beneath it, the survivors of Kuat answered with such force that the gaseous atmosphere of Umbara roiled like a sea of boiling water. 

“FOR THE REPUBLIC!”

Looking up at Clip's hologram shift between the various deceased, he scrunched his palms, and whispered to himself: 

“For the future.”