The Naboo Plasma War : Episode V

The tactical displays on the bridge of the Indomitable had become one of the most frustrating sights I had ever known. While the initial space conflict had been intense, to say the least, it had turned out that neither side had the ability to penetrate the other's shields. With the immense shield generators onboard the Lucrehulks, and the limitations the senate imposed on ship armaments, a Lucrehulk's shields regenerated faster than damage could be done. Even with the "loyalists" having more ships, they still weren't able to overcome my shields. Though to be fair, a Lucrehulk's shape meant that it couldn't bring all its guns to bear, and with the Republic armament restrictions, designers couldn't compensate by adding in more guns.

In that regard, Captain Dofine had proven rather clever. He had rotated the Profiteer so that the Indomitable was directly above his ship, meaning he was able to bring half of the Profiteer's guns to bear. It wasn't enough, even when the other loyalist ships imitated him, but it was an inspired move. I hadn't taken him for one to be particularly innovative. Ultimately, however, an unspoken agreement had both sides giving it up as a bad job, and neither of us were willing to waste time trying to win the war that way. If Naboo was to be won, it would be on the ground.

None of this made looking at the screens and seeing those damnable ships just sitting there any easier. Adding to that stress was the fact that Darth Maul's ship was occasionally flying by the Indomitable, apparently looking for a way in. He hadn't found a way onto the ship yet, thank all the deities, but that still left me on a Sith's shit list.

Fuck.

Darth Maul had jumped out of the system a few hours ago, and my eyes had been pouring over various screens since then, desperately trying to figure out what Maul's goal was.

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Lieutenant Sykes clutched his blaster rifle to his chest. The armed speeder he had been piloting was in flames a good ten meters to his left, a hit from an AAT putting it down. Around him, Naboo militiamen exchanged blaster fire with Trade Federation droids a hundred meters away, across open plains. The Trandoshans had offered to train any Naboo who volunteered, and while few of the civilians from Theed had taken up the offer... the farmers and homesteaders had practically tripped over each other signing up. For many of them, Gungan raids were in living memory, and they had always been extremely stubborn about defending themselves. The capital had always faced stiff resistance from the outlanders whenever they tried restricting weapons of any kind, and those few regulations that did get passed were often outright ignored, even by law enforcement. Theed had always looked the other way, for the most part, letting the outlanders arm themselves meant they didn't have to pay money to any sort of security service.

The result of this mentality was that there was a truly bizarre collection of weapons in the hands of the militiamen. One militiaman, in particular, was using a carefully maintained family heirloom, a light repeating blaster, manufactured during the Jedi Civil War thousands of years ago. By the Sith Empire. To say nothing of the armor he had similarly inherited. Sykes had insisted on painting a Republic emblem on the silver chest plate, then washed his hands of the whole affair.

Right now, Sykes was glad he had allowed it. While the phrase "suppressing fire" was new to him, the concept itself certainly wasn't. It didn't matter how inaccurate it was, nobody wanted to be in the open when there was a lot of laser fire flying in your direction! For all that the Trade Federation was incapable of fear, sometimes that worked against them. Their programming informed them that the enemy was inaccurate, and that was that. It didn't tell them that there were so many droids that they didn't need to be accurate. The lumbering AATs were problematic, but the Trandoshans had an answer for them. As was usual for the reptilian mercenaries, said answer was along the lines of "more gun." As the Lieutenant watched a rocket slam into an AAT, blowing it to smithereens, Sykes couldn't help but feel maybe the Trandoshans were on to something.

The repeating blaster started up again, and Sykes took the opportunity to get to better cover. As bad as the fighting was, he hated to imagine what it would have been without the Trade Federation defectors throwing their weight behind the resistance.