Star Wars: Dar'Aliit

Chapter Nine: Bad Company

4 BBY ???

The white grain spreads around me on all sides. I'm a child again, dressed in the familiar blue uniform of a cadet.

If I put out my hands, I can't even touch the top of the grain, but it goes on forever. And the drums. The drums beat in the distance.

Where am I?

I keep walking. Ahead of me move shadows in the form of men. They wear a kit I recognize, right up to the helmets. They walk far ahead of me. I break out into a run, but no matter how far I go, I can't reach them as they walk toward the horizon.

One by one, they're gone. Ghosts.

I keep walking, hoping to catch sight of them again. But the terrain grows only rockier. I stumble. My foot catches the divot in the ground. I almost fall, but catch myself and briefly there it is, a deep snare drum sounding loudly. Gasping, I collect myself and walk on as more drums join the chorus. There's voices amid them.

It's a song I don't know.

But the music is familiar. Something old and Mandalorian. Distracted by it, I stumble out onto a footpath and this time, I fall.

My knees hit the ground, jarring me. Before I can scramble up a pair of boots appear and stop before me. They're black, except for the dust stuck to them. A cloak hangs to the ground. I lift my gaze and find armored legs, dented beaten armor and a thick shoulder pauldron segmented and strapped together with leather. Above it all rests a helmet carved from bone.

The T-visor is unmistakable, though. This is a man I've only read about. Mandalore the Ultimate.

The drums are thudding in my head now, threatening my ear drums. Then they are silent.

I pant, unsure why fear has turned my skin cold, but unable to break its hold. And my eyes flicker off to see another figure far off. I cannot make them out, but they are following my path exactly.

I strain to see them, but the Mandalore moves and his hand emerges from his cloak. He reaches down and offers his hand to me. I take it. He helps me up.

Again from within the cloak, he produces another hand, this time holding a helmet, black, dented, mangled almost. It looks like it's been through hell.

Silent, he places it in my hands. I stare at the empty visor, reflecting my own childlike face. A face I haven't seen in years. The face of a cadet.

When I look up, I stand alone. The drums beat louder and crescendo into a flourish. The last beat strikes, hitting a chord in my heart and suddenly I'm falling, starting, and jerking awake.

#

20 BBY Indol Mines

We were wrong. Looking over the edge of the pit that spirals downward into mines I note the ranks of thin necked B1's completing their drills, marching back and forth under the watch of an orange painted Tank Commander. SBD are stationed around old mining tracks. In the center sits a decommission crane, at least I assume that's what it once was given the placement, and the fact this was once a mine. All that remains is the scaffolded base, though. The rest has been converted into a fully functional surface to air ion cannon.

That's what took down our ships. That thing killed Aftermath.

Crouching along the edge it's clear I'm outnumbered. One clone and a small battalion of droids. No doubt more wait hidden in the mines. This is their base of operations and we never knew it.

Everything before this was a front to destroy us and pick us off so the Seps could steamroll the survivors. I don't know what they want with this planet and it's people, but I know they sure as hell aren't getting it.