God Save the Queen: Chapter 7 (Patreon)

A/N: All of my 4th plans fell through, so instead I did something for all of you!

I hope everyone enjoys Taylor's own efforts to create a more perfect union. 

Chapter 7: Three Fates

The tank fire splashed against the shield veil. The Gungan war fambaas were well trained to ignore such distractions.

Boss Nass watched from the walls of Theed as the Droid Army deployed, ranks of tan battle droids standing in stark contrast to the lush greenery of Naboo. “The mechanitssss think their brains so big,” he said. “Thessa stand out like’a sore thumbs…”

With an ululating war cry, a small group of Gungans leapt from the tall grass, flinging plasma spheres at the unfolding droids. They melted back into the grass as a swath of droids fell over. The Naboo SDF poked out of the plasma veil, splashing ineffective fire across the tanks to blind their sensors as they tried to rotate their massive turrets towards their attackers.

Nass gave a belly laugh as the next row of droids tried to walk forward and tripped over the broken ones in front of them. “Thessa spending more time falling over than thessa standing up!”

Next to him, the Naboo councilor chuckled. The man thumbed his commlink. “The signal has been isolated. Boss Nass, your forces may begin withdrawing towards Theed at any time.”

Boss Nass hmphed, giving a nod to his herald. The other Gungan raised the war horn to his lips and blew. As the note echoed over the battlefield, the war fambaas started walking back towards the human city, taking the plasma veil with them. The droids marched forward faster, but as soon as they crossed into range of the city’s own defensive, the humans’ Turbolasers activated.

THZZZAT THZZZAT THZZZAT THZZZAT THZZZAT

The thrum of the batteries echoed in his bones. Blaster bolts big enough to core a gungan swallowed up the first of the droids. The empty-headed mechanite army walked forward a few more steps before finally retreating back to their tanks.

“How long can your shield hold, sir?” the human asked.

“Issa hold as long as issa needs to hold.”

The older Naboo nodded, running his fingers through his wispy face fur. “Then I suppose it is in the hands of the Queen.”

~ * ~

“Go! I’ll cover you.” The Queen stepped around the corner, laying down a barrage of blaster fire.

Two Mandos raced forward, gunning down the unprepared battle droids around the next bend of the Lucrehulk. Without a word, Amidala strode forward with the rest of their boarding squad, rifle in her hand held with a sort of easy familiarity that spoke of practice and dedication.

Not what Bo-Katan expected from the ruler of a planet like Naboo.

“Where to next, commander?”

Bo tapped her helm, pulling up the plans for the Lucrehulk class ship on her visor. “Left here. Breach the door.”

Two of her men stepped forward, placing breaching charges as the rest of the group looped back around the corner.

“Charges armed!”

De’vos slid to a stop next to Bo-Katan and Amidala, detonator in hand.

“Blow them.”

He pulled the trigger, and Bo’s visor automatically darkened to compensate for the blast of light and sound.

Not so dark she couldn’t see Amidala’s eyes widen. The queen stepped away from the wall, backblast of the explosion licking at her robes as her rifle snapped up.

Bo-Katan almost shot the girl before her visor read Amidala’s muffled shout.

The Mandalorian spun just in time to see Amidala’s pinpoint-accurate fire take out the first droideka just as it started to unfold. Bo fired her underbarrel grenade launcher without thought, concussive grenade rolling to a stop under the second droideka’s legs just as its shield popped into place.

The explosion filled the inside of the shield like ash in a fishbowl for one glorious second. Then the projector failed, and various singed droid parts slid to a stop by Bo-Katan’s feet.

She let out a breath just as the words <Destroyer Droids!> vanished from her visor.

Padme turned towards her, respect clear in her otherwise stone cold visage. “Excellent shot, commander.”

Bo-Katan almost snorted. “I should be saying that to you. I didn’t know fourteen-year-olds on Naboo could shoot.”

The corner of the queen’s lips pulled up into a smile. “You’ll find we’re full of surprises.” She gave Bo-Katan a nod before striding past her to the breach, handmaidens in tow.

“Right.” Bo stood up, reloading the grenade launcher. “Nite Owls, on the Queen. Can’t let her get shot.”

A series of chuckles echoed over her comm.

“I’d like to see them try.”

Bo-Katan Kyrze, strike leader of the Death Watch, found herself agreeing with the sentiment. Padme Amidala had Mando’kar, the bearing of a warrior, and she had it in spades.

Her squad moved up to cover the Queen as they swept through the next series of hallways. The whole time, Amidala lead—near recklessly—from the front. She fought next to them like she was already one of them, and those ‘handmaidens’ of hers moved more like trained assassins than ladies in waiting.

Bo-Katan had enough experience with both to tell the difference.

“Feds weren’t expecting a boarding action!” she shouted as their group dismantled another disorganized squad of battle droids.

“The weren’t expecting an army of Mandalorians?” Padme threw a concussive grenade around a corner. “How shortsighted!”

Bo let out a laugh. And here Pre had said the Naboo were just going to be some easy money. Bo-Katan had felt her own misgivings about the plan to storm several Lucrehulks until the Trade Federation surrendered, but with adequate fighter cover and their target laid out in front of them?

It was like a walk through the ducal palace back home.

“This is it.” Padme came to a stop in front of an ornate blast door. Then the girl balled her tiny hand into a fist, and banged it against the durasteel. “Open up, Viceroy! I’m here to talk terms.”

That startled another laugh from the Nite Owls. Then Bo-Katan stepped forward. “Da’vos, you and your squad lock down this corridor!” She swept her hand in an arc in front of the door. “I want charges and breaching positions set now!”

The Queen stepped back, and this time, her handmaidens had to convince her not to take the central breaching position herself. With only combat armor, being so close to the breaching charges was nigh-on suicidal, but Bo could appreciate a fellow woman out there to get shit done.

She knelt behind an expandable barricade as the rest of their breaching charges were set on the door. “On my mark!”

The rest of her forces scrambled into position, blasters at the ready. “Hold your fire until you have a target! We need that control center operational.”

Bo-Katan glanced both ways, ensuring everyone was in position, before turning her visored gaze back towards the door.

One last push and this would all be over.

“Mark!”

The charges detonated.

The rush of air pulled at the edges of her armor and rattled her teeth in her skull. Bo stayed low to the barricade, rifle ready in her hands, as the smoke cleared.

Then she spat a curse.

The blast doors weren’t even dented. All the charges had done was chip the paint.

After a second of stunned silence, Amidala’s voice came over the comm. “I guess they spent their credits on reinforced doors.”

With a huff, Bo pushed herself to her feet. “And not a lightsaber in sight.” She shook her head. “Illae, get that door open.”

Her tech hopped up, prying off the access panel next to the door with quick, economical motions. She slid in a data spike, only for a spark of electricity to fry it. The woman jerked back with a hiss, arcs running over the gauntlets of her armor.

“This… might take a second.”

A burst of blaster fire drew Bo-Katan’s eyes to the far side of the corridor, where Da’vos’ squad traded fire with another squad of droids. “We don’t have all day, get on it!”

The other woman hissed, kneeling next to the access panel as she took her helmet off. “Kriffing hate counter-intrusion protocols…”

Bo let out a breath; she hadn’t even packed plasmacutters.

~ * ~

In the hangar bay, a white and blue astromech droid rolled out of the landing ship from where it had stowed away.

R2-D2’s head spun around, taking in the destroyed vulture droids.

“Whmp! brrt brrt!” With a disdainful beep, R2 pushed past a heap of scrapped battledroid. Inferior creations, everyone knew that astromechs were the best droids.

R2’s sensors picked up blaster residue in the corridor. “Bw-Bw-Bwwwwrrw! Bw-Bw-Bwwwwrrw!” Course set, the trusty little droid rolled into the bowels of the Trade Federation battleship.

~ * ~

The clash of sabers lit up the depths of the battleship.

With a wordless snarl, the Sith’s double-bladed saber lashed out. Obi-Wan backpaddled, lightsaber weaving around him.

Master Qui-Gon stood firm as the storm of blows rained down on him. Emerald met Crimson a dozen times in the space of a breath.

Obi-Wan launched himself forward again, forcing the Sith back onto the defensive. The Zabrak caught one blade on each of his, twisting. Obi-Wan spun across his master’s back as the Sith jumped.

Flashes of bright light burned at his eyes when their blows met midair. The Sith jabbed at the Mandalorian when the man came in for an overhead sweep.

“Bastard.” A gauntleted hand came up, and the Jedi and Sith both leapt away from a torrent of flame. Obi-Wan felt the heat prickling at his skin.

The Force tugged him, and he dashed forward an instant before the flame cut out. The Sith batted his blow away, sending both their blades scouring across the durasteel.

Qui-Gon and the Mando flashed forward. Obi-Wan ducked back as a red blade reaped the space he’d just stood. The Sith gave ground slowly, but the narrow corridor meant only two men could face him at once.

A flurry of red forced Qui-Gon a step back. The Sith ducked beneath a counterblow, kicking the Mandalorian in the wrist. That peculiar black lightsaber crashed into a lighting strip in a shower of sparks.

The embers singed Obi-Wan’s robe as he caught the next attack aimed at his ally of convenience.

He pushed the sensation of heat from his mind.

The next exchange pitted Master and Student against the Sith. He and Qui-Gon moved in concert, one to attack, the other defending. Obi-Wan felt himself drifting into the Force, flickering lights flashing around them, blades crackling as they crossed, locking and binding.

Unbidden, he leaned to the side as a sonic round tore through the space. The Zabrak twisted out of the way.

Blades met again, two strikes, high, then low, then—

Obi-Wan ducked, two more sonic rounds screeched out. The Sith leapt, kicking off the wall. One blade cut a deep scour in the ceiling before it met Qui-Gon’s saber.

The master twisted his emerald saber just in time to tilt the Sith into the next sonic blast.

It caught the black-clad man, throwing him from the corridor and into the wider room beyond.

“Heh, take that, pointy-headed freak.”

Obi-Wan held back a grimace at the needless editorializing as the Mando brushed past them both.

The Zabrak pushed himself to his feet, one arm hanging limply by his side. His right was wide open.

Obi-Wan moved before the Force could scream at him to stop. He crossed the threshold a second behind the Mando, and then the door snapped shut behind him.

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened as he saw a remote drop from the Sith’s ‘wounded’ hand just in time for the lights to go out.

He stopped, blue saber held high.

The Mandalorian sank to a crouch, blasting a wave of fire to the left. The Sith stepped back, glaring balefully across the flames. “You think I’ve never fought in the dark, little freak?” the Mando said.

Behind them, Obi-Wan heard his master start to cut through the door.

Hopefully it would go a bit faster this time.

The leader of Deathwatch cut off his flamer, leaving Obi-Wan blinking in the dark once more. The Mando had no such difficulties, firing his sonic pistol off into the darkness.

Obi-Wan reached for the tides of the Force, but they were still around him. He felt a droplet of sweat run down his neck as the shadows closed around them. The glow of his light saber had never seemed so dim and narrow.

The sonic pistol clicked empty.

Obi-Wan’s head snapped up as a disk of pure crimson rushed from the darkness. He blocked the thrown lightsaber. The Mandalorian’s flamer lit up.

Then the Sith caught the blade out of the air, screaming as he raced through the flames.

The blade came down—Obi-Wan a second too slow.

A flash of sparks lit up the darkness as lightsaber met beskar with a screech. Obi-wan saw a close up of the Sith’s burned visage as he mauled the flamethrower and left a parting gouge on the Mandalorian’s helmet before Obi-Wan’s own saber threw him back.

The red blades winked out as a pile of burning black robes hit the durasteel floor.

Behind them, Obi-Wan heard the familiar clunk as a second set of security doors closed over the first.

He groaned. “Of course, the doors.” He swallowed once, settling his saber into a guard position. “Why wouldn’t they be special door again?”

Maybe this time they were out of destroyer droids? Obi-Wan felt that wasn’t too much to ask for.

“Kriffing banthashit!” The Mandalorian pulled his helmet from his face, tossing it to the side. The man was blonde, Obi-Wan noted, with sharp features that…

“Tor Vizsla?” Obi-Wan’s heart thudded in his chest.

The man gave Obi-Wan a contemptuous glare. “So, it was you.” A sallow grin crossed his face. “I couldn’t believe my eyes when you stepped aboard my ship.”

Obi-Wan blinked, even as the Force around thrummed with danger. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness once more, he realized that the man looked too young to be Tor.

“Figured it out yet, Jedi?” The man asked. “I am Pre Vizsla, son of the man you and your master killed to protect little Satine.” He rolled his eyes at Obi-Wan’s stricken expression, raising the jet-black lightsaber. “You and I will have to settle our score latter; for now, there’s that kriffing spikehead to deal with.”

Obi-Wan nodded, turning back to the blackness.

“I don’t suppose you have another set of night vision goggles?” he asked.

Red blades surged from the darkness before Pre could reply.

He caught the first strike, meeting the Sith’s burning gaze head on.

Obi-Wan pushed. His blade flashed out. Sparkes flew off the red blade as he caught the counterblow. Twice more he blocked, his arms aching from the force.

Then the black lightsaber entered the fray.

He and the Zabrak clashed again, then Obi-Wan stepped back for the dark saber to swing out again.

It struck once for every three exchanges, before even those numbers fell away.

Obi-Wan found his eyes too slow. Instead, he followed the thrum of battle in his bones. Red and Blue carved swaths of light through tightening darkness.

He jumped, deflecting three blows to his limbs.

Obi-Wan’s feet hit the crate, lightsaber flashing down to block once, twice. Then he struck as the Sith deflected another blow.

A black-clad foot kicked the crate out from under him.

Obi-Wan hit the ground hard, lightsaber coming up just in time catch a furious blow. Down, the red blade threw sparks across the durasteel.

Up. Then down, then up again.

Obi-Wan gasped as he was knocked onto his back, rolling away from a decapitating blow.

There was a flash of red and black light, then the Mando staggered away, a bright streak on his beskar plate.

Obi-Wan’s breath came in short gasps as he threw himself forward once more.

He was the worse duelist.

Red and Blue met again. Faster now. Stronger now.

He realized that now.

The Crimson Lightsaber snaked out again, drawing long gouges onto beskar. Obi-Wan counterattacked.

The red lightsaber spun in a fan, slamming down into his guard a dozen times.

He slid back across the slick durasteel.

The sith turned aside Vizsla’s blow contemptuously, forcing the man to guard with his gauntlets.

Obi-Wan raced forward, standing shoulder to shoulder with his one-time enemy.

The world fell away as he held the Sith in place. Half-remembered sparring lessons flashed through his eyes as his lightsaber seemed to move on its own.

He forced the Sith a step back.

Yellow eyes widened as another string was turned aside, then a third. Obi-Wan felt the Force around him, a still pond that rippled with every action.

Obi-Wan ducked a blow from his own ally, launching a flurry of slashes at the Zabrak’s knees. The twined lightsaber blocked both, held vertical.

Poorly balanced.

The Sith pushed, throwing the black saber out of the way.

Obi-Wan stood, blue and red throwing sharp contrast across Pre Vizsla’s face. The Mando stepped forward into the next low sweep and—

And suddenly Obi-Wan was falling.

There was a gasp.

He hit the ground just in time for the pain to reach him. It washed over him in a wave, throwing him from the touch of the Force.

Obi-Wan screamed. He looked down to see his legs ending in charred stumps. His lightsaber rolled from nerveless fingers.

But a finishing blow did not come.

Obi-Wan’s eyes tracked up.

As the darkness closed in around him, he saw Pre Vizsla stabbing his black blade lodged into the Sith’s stomach. It cut perfectly through the middle of the red lightsaber’s handle for a killing strike.

For a moment, Obi-Wan saw Vizsla’s face lit up, red light reflecting his savage glee.

He’d attacked. Instead of protecting Obi-Wan as the Jedi had done for him, Vizsla had opted to attack, and let Obi-Wan take the blow instead.

But… they’d been so close to…

ViZsla pulled his lightsaber back as the red blades winked out. The Sith crumpled to the floor.

The blond man laughed, lifting up his desecrated Saber to deliver the final blow. “To the victor—”

A line of crimson swept up like a flash of light.

“The spoils.”

The sith’s voice came out in an almost cultured, core world growl as Vizsla fell to the ground in three pieces. That close, it was impossible to miss the gaps in the man’s armor.

Obi-Wan’s head lolled back as the Sith staggered to his feet with one sparking, bifurcated blade in hand. The Zabrak had his other hand pressed tight against the gaping wound in his stomach, but Obi-Wan could see the hatred burning in the other man’s eyes.

Obi-Wan realized that he was about to die.

He let out a shuddering breath, allowing the Force to swaddle him with warmth as he accepted his fate. With darkening gaze, he saw the Sith take a staggering step forward.

Then, with a scream of metal, the door flew across the room and crashed into the Sith, just as he’d tried to hurl the hangar doors at Obi-Wan and his master at the start of their battle.

He flew from Obi-Wan’s field of view, one last look of absolute shocked despair burning into Obi-Wan’s fading consciousness.

Qui-Gon slid to a stop next to Obi-Wan, hands reaching out and clasping his apprentice. “Stay with me,” his master demanded. “Stay with me, Obi-Wan, your time is not yet come.”

Obi-Wan reached up, towards the face of the man he trusted more than anyone in the entire galaxy.

Master Qui-Gon caught it before it could fall.

~ * ~

“Incoming… friendly?” One of the Mando’ad called.

I looked over, blinking in surprise as… “Artoo?” I asked. “How did you get on the ship?”

He whistled smugly at me, hopping the hastily-erected barricade at the end of the hall with a quick boost from his thrusters.

I watched, dumbstruck as he rolled up to me. His head spun once with a whirr-beep, as if admonishing me for leaving him behind.

I turned to look at the doors, where the Mando woman was still struggling. “If you think you can get us in, then do it.”

He rolled up to the door, beeping insistently at the tech. She gave him a glance. “Sure, I can distract them.” She bit out another curse. “It’s all I’ve been doing so far.”

She jammed another data spike into the access panel as Artoo plugged into the access port below that.

For a moment, we waited, guns held loose at our sides.

Then the door popped open, and it was hard to tell who was more surprised.

Without thinking, my rifle snapped up, knocking out the first two battle droids next to the door. “The control panels!”

The Mandalorians rushed into the room like the tide. I walked forward behind them as they took out the rest of the defenders, pushing hapless Nemodian control staff from their chairs.

I felt a fullblown grin growing on my face as I tossed my blaster rifle aside, drawing my holdout blaster instead.

“Now then, Viceroy,” I pressed the barrel into the center of his forehead. “I believe you said something about ‘demands’? Why don’t we start with mine.”