“Get down!” someone roared, before Spike was shaken from his sleep by a massive explosion.

Instantly Spike was alert, shielding his eyes from a stream of shrapnel and broken shards of rock. Letting his arm fall, Spike looked out across the camp, getting to his feet as the soldiers around him quickly made their way around the camp.

“What’s going on?!” Spike roared over the sounds of explosions, grabbing hold of a soldier as he rushed past.

“The Mandalorians have started up their main power generators, they’re beginning the bombardment and the rest of their army is on the move towards us now!”

Nodding, Spike allowed the man to go, before hurrying towards Cortez, the man standing in the middle of the camp and bellowing orders.

“First and second platoon! Report to commander Tarhal and strengthen his lines! The rest of you get your jump packs on and wait for orders!”

“Cortez, report!” Spike roared, staggering as his back was peppered with more shrapnel from another explosion.

“Commander Tarhal is leading the defence of the trenches, we’re to stay in reserve until we find an opening in their lines, then we hit them hard! We’re under your direct command Spike!”

“Then get everyone out of the open! The Mandalorians will have to stop their bombardment as their troops come in, that’s when we hit them!”

“Alright you heard the commander!” Cortez roared. “Everyone get to your fox holes and ride this storm out!”

Spike began to follow Cortez towards a series of holes dug into the ground, watching as the soldiers dived into them, keeping their heads below the surface. Already though, they were almost full, and Spike quickly saw that there would be no room for him. Not that that really mattered that much to him, he could weather more than the soldiers could at any rate.

“Incoming!” a soldier screamed, pointing up as a shell began to arc down towards one of the fox holes. “Everybody out!”

“Stay in there!” Spike roared, before raising both his hands above his head, a shield forming around the fox holes.

The shell struck the shield and exploded, the fire washing over the green surface as Spike struggled to keep the explosion away from the soldiers. As the fire died, Spike found himself hit by the pressure wave, before being flung backwards like a rag doll, landing in a heap.

“Spike?!” Cortez roared, rising up.

“I’m fine! Stay down!” Spike shouted back, clutching his stomach as blood began to ooze out of the crater that was there now.

The shelling was increasing in magnitude by now, and considering the damage just one of the shells had done, Spike needed to find cover fast, as well as finding a way to seal the wound in his side. Luckily for Spike, he quickly found both.

Getting up, Spike took to the skies, flying low over the ground as yet more shrapnel peppered his body, before allowing himself to fall into one of the many lava pools that dotted the planet, holding his breath as he slipped beneath the surface. He had found out that dragons could stay under the surface of a lava pool almost indefinitely, which had come in handy when he had been blasted out into space or when breathing fire for a prolonged period of time.

A few bubbles escaped Spikes lips as the lava washed around him, touching his exposed skin inside his wound and cauterising it instantly. Bacta would have helped more, but that was a luxury Spike didn’t have. Maybe it would be able to get rid of the scar, maybe not, right now Spike didn’t care.

Explosions continued to burst outside of the lava pool, the liquid rippling as each one landed, before finally they began to slow down, before stopping all together, leaving an eerie calm in their wake.

“Everybody out!” Cortez roared, his voice slightly distorted through the lava. “Can anyone see Spike!?”

“I’m here,” Spike groaned, rising out of the lava pool and making his way towards the soldiers, lava dripping from his body, while other bits turned to rock as it solidified, sticking to his body. Already, he could make out the sound of blaster fire in the distance, as well as the roar of Basilisk engines, signalling that the Mandalorians had begun their attack.

“That’s a sight I won’t soon forget,” one of the soldiers muttered as Spike passed by.

“Cortez, what’s the plan?” Spike asked, ignoring the soldier’s remark.

“We wait until a hole opens up in the Mandalorian lines and we hit it hard, or we move in to strengthen our own lines if they look like they’re breaking,” Cortez said simply, pulling a helmet on, covering the top of his skull and the back of his head, but leaving his face exposed. “We’ll take the Mandalorians by surprise, they won’t see us until it’s too late.”

“So you're using jump packs then?” Spike asked, stretching his wings out and shaking the rock from their surface.

“Makes us fast,” Cortez nodded, shifting the weight of his pack as he spoke, before strapping on an oxygen mask, distorting his voice slightly. “The rocket troopers proved they work, we take ‘em one step further.”

“Let’s see what you’ve got then,” Spike nodded, before pressing a finger to his ear. A second later he brought it away, his fingers coated in the molten metal of his communicator. The only reason his Lightsabers and belt had survived was because they were lasted with Neuranium.

“Here, take mine,” Cortez chuckled, taking his ear piece out and throwing it to Spike. “I can’t understand Shyriiwook properly anyway.”

Spike nodded, screwing the ear piece in and activating it.

“Tarhal, requesting a status update now.”

“The Mandalorians are about to break through on our left flank. The forces there can’t hold them much longer.”

“Affirmative, we’ll cover them, Spike out,” Spike nodded, before throwing the communicator back to Cortez. “We’re needed on the left flank.”

“You heard him! Strap your packs on tight, jack up your blasters and follow the commander.” Cortez bellowed to the men, before turning back to face Spike, his grin just about visible beneath his mask.

Taking the signal, Spike flapped his wings, buffeting the Special Forces around him with a powerful gust of wind as he soared into the sky. A second later, the roar of jetpack met Spikes ears as Cortez lead his men after him.

***

“Cody! Adjust your fire and target the shock troopers!” a soldier bellowed, peering over the lip of the trench as he fired into the advancing Mandalorians.

The Mandalorians had broken into the trench system briefly, before they had been driven back, only to surge in once more, threatening to spill into the trenches again. If that happened, the Republic forces wouldn’t be able to push them back a second time, and their entire flank would be exposed.

“We need reinforcements!” Cody bellowed back, standing up and hoisting his blaster cannon over the parapet, unleashing shot after shot into the oncoming enemy, before a shot glanced his shoulder, sending him spinning to the floor.

”We read you loud and clear. All Republic forces on the left flank, sit back and enjoy the fireworks,”

Cody grunted as he propped himself up against the edge of the trench, looking up in time to see scores of rockets fly towards the Mandalorian lines. A second later, a shadow fell over the trenches as a massive creature swooped over their heads, followed by hundreds of republic soldiers.

“Reinforcements are here,” Cody coughed, laughing as he watched the Special Forces firing into the Mandalorians.

***

Spike let out a loud roar, his voice almost being drowned out by the sound of the rockets the Special Forces exploding in the Mandalorian lines. The soldiers scattered, throwing themselves to the mud as they sought to avoid the deadly mushroom clouds of fire.

A second later, Spike smashed into the ground, twisting his body so his feet landed first, crushing a Mandalorian warrior beneath his feet, before roaring again, a rolling wall of fire billowing forth from his gaping maw, immolating warriors and sending those who had been slowly getting up again scurrying back for cover.

The Mandalorians had been well prepared for this assault with the Intel they had gathered, and they could have easily beaten back any other form of reinforcements. But a Dragon wasn’t in their plans, and suddenly, their entire battle plan was halted as they desperately tried to reorganise to face the new threat. Spike wasn’t going to give them that chance.

“No prisoners!” he roared, igniting his sabres and slashing at a rising Mandalorian.

“No mercy!” Cortez roared in agreement, turning his rifle upon anything not affiliated with the Republic.

Spike didn’t overly like the attitude he was so callously adopting, even as he scythed down another two warriors. But then again, hard times called for even harder warriors to fight them, and as he had learnt on Cathar, there were two sides to the coin of public relations in a war. There had to be a villain to one side if there was to be a hero to the other. Revan was a hero, Spike would have to be a demon to the Mandalorians.

The skirmish didn’t last long, and the few Mandalorians that had survived began to run in the opposite direction, struggling over the boiling landscape to escape Spike and the Special Forces. Spike turned back to face one of the soldiers in the trench, cocking his head to the side as he saw the wound on his shoulder.

“Soldier. Are you alright?”

“Y-yes sir,” the man nodded. “Corporal Cody sir.”

“Well Corporal, think you can hold the line now?”

“Yes sir, thank you for the help sir.”

“Don’t mention it Cody. But I do have a task for you. Does your radio still work?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. Pass me your ear piece, I need to speak to Tarhal.”

Spike quickly took the proffered ear piece, screwing it deep into his ear and giving it an experimental tap.

“Tarhal? You there?”

”Spike? Good, I still need you on the left flank, the Mandalorians are breaking through and I don’t have the men to spare. What’s your eta?”

“Already taken care of.”

”You’re already there? You work fast Spike. I’m organising a counter attack down the centre of the battle lines, the right’s holding steady. Can you hold the left?”

“I can do better. The Special Forces are with me, we’ll roam ahead of the main army, get behind their lines and generally make life hell for the Mandalorians, make it easier for your offensive.”

”Don’t get cut off. I don’t know if we’ll be able to reach you in time if you do.”

“Don’t worry about us Tarhal, just break the bastards here and now. We got ‘em on the run, this is simply a last act of defiance. They know they can’t win.”

”That’s what worries me. A cornered animal always fights the hardest. Just be careful. Tarhal out.”

Spike unscrewed the ear piece, before throwing it back to Cody.

“Stay safe soldier. Cortez, with me!”

With that, Spike once again took to the skies, the Special Forces speeding after him as they swooped low across the planet’s surface, taking pot shots at the Mandalorians below before they could turn their own guns skywards. The remnants of the attack on the left flank were still trying to escape the vengeful Special Forces, some taking to the skies on their own jetpacks, but most trying in vain to make it back to their own lines to warn their commanders.

“Don’t let them get through!” Spike roared, before shooting a fire ball towards the ground. “We’re ending this today!”

The men behind him whooped in agreement, before plunging after him as they dived towards a cluster of Mandalorian emplacements, slamming into the camp as the Mandalorians within began to adapt to their presence.

Grimacing, Spike set to work with his grim task, butchering Mandalorians as he went, not showing mercy as he hacked and slashed his way through the ranks of men as if they were nothing. More than once he felt the sting of a blaster round and staggered under the assault, before surging back to his feet, fighting through the pain even as his body screamed in protest.

“I am the Beast of Ranox!” Spike bellowed to the sky, spreading his arms wide and throwing out a wave of force energy, sending the few Mandalorians around him flying. “And you shall taste my Lightsabers next!”

Good one Spike, make them feel it, Desolation whispered softly in his mind.

“Oh I intend to!” Spike roared, before diving forward once more, the Special Forces around him mopping up the last of the stragglers.

“Sound off!” Cortez roared as the last corpse dropped to the floor, walking around the staging ground as the various squads checked in.

“How did we do?” Spike asked, moving up beside him, limping from a blaster wound to the knee.

“Two squads bit it completely, various members from other squads didn’t make it, but altogether not bad,” Cortez replied. “Could have been a lot…” he stopped suddenly, putting his hand up to his ear, before shaking his head and passing Spike the communicator. “You’ll need to listen to it, I can’t work out what Knight Tarhal is saying.”

“Go for Spike. Tarhal, you there buddy?” Spike asked, placing the communicator in his ear.

“Spike?! Good, I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to get the message. The Mandalorians are in full retreat, I need you and your men back at the dropships for dust-off, now!”

“Whoa, calm down. If the Mandalorians are in retreat why are we the ones running?”

“Because we still have ships we can use. We need to get off world now!”

“Why? What’s happening?”

“The Mandalorians have set fire to the Xoxin plains at coordinates zero five nine north, eight three seven east. It’s spreading like mad and it won’t be long till it reaches our lines. I want us off world before it gets to the ships, okay?”

“I read you, getting back to the lines now,” Spike nodded, before turning to Cortez. “We’re moving out, back to the lines and off world.”

“Lead the way,” Cortez nodded, jumping into the air after Spike.

“Lowell? Come in.” Spike grunted as he took flight.

“Go for Lowell captain.”

“How soon can Harmony be in the air?”

“Not sure Captain. Engine one is still inactive, and I don’t fancy flying with mismatched engines.”

“It doesn’t have to be pretty, we need to get off world quickly.”

“Roger, we’ll get it ready and be prepared for your arrival.”

“Good. Eta is ar…” Spike began.

“Basilisk war droids incoming sir!” someone shouted from behind Spike, and Spike quickly turned himself to look at the man, following his finger to the fast approaching wing of droids on the horizon.

This was the first time Spike had seen the droids in combat, and he had to admit he was impressed by the speed of the things. They were easily bigger than a man, as shown by the fact that the Mandalorians sitting on the backs of the droids were dwarfed by their machines, but it was their weapons that worried Spike. Missiles, heavy blasters, massive claws, pulse-wave cannons, shockwave and plasma generators, these things were deadly, and they were his size.

“Mother fu…Cortez! Take the men back to the ships, leave me a squad!”

“But Spike, shouldn’t we all…” Cortez began.

“There’s no time!” Spike cut in. “Get back to your ships and get off world, I’ve got a ship that can carry me and the rest of the squad.”

“If you say so sir,” Cortez nodded. “Wolf Squad, stay with the commander, keep him alive.”

“Lowell, change of plans! Lock in on my coordinates and get the ship here pronto. I won’t be able to make it to you.”

“I’ll try Spike, bringing the systems online now. Lowell out.”

Turning back to face the members of Wolf Squad, Spike scanned their almost fully covered faces, before turning to speed towards the new threat. “Aim for the pilots! Team up and stay frosty! Don’t be a hero!”

Spike ignited his Lightsabers once more as he sped past the Mandalorian mounts, slashing through one pilot, before a burst of pain erupted from his side. Looking down, Spike saw that the wound he had taken earlier had just been reopened, and was once again bleeding heavily.

Snarling, Spike flipped over, pulling a move that by all the laws of physics would have ripped a lesser being apart, before grappling with the droid that had hit him, leering down at the pilot.

“Get off my droid!” the Mandalorian roared, drawing a pistol and trying to firing a shot into Spike.

Spike howled as the shot slammed into his chest, but held on, grabbing the Mandalorian with a free hand and squeezing tightly, the armour crumpling at his touch.

As the man died, the Basilisk howled in anguish, letting out an animalistic moan as it lost its pilot, before it opened its arms wide, throwing Spike downwards, before diving after him. The pair spiralled towards the ground, Spike slamming into the rocky surface and springing up to his feet just as the droid landed, still emitting a loud moan in memory of its master.

Above Spike and the droid the battle was still raging, the two war droids holding their own against the Special Forces squad. It was going to be close, but right now, Spike had to worry about the droid in front of him.

With a roar, Spike leapt forward, clashing with the droid as it jumped up to meet him, before Spike brought his Lightsabers round in a quick arc, intending to bisect the droid quickly. Instead, his weapons bounced off the droid, barely even scratching the armour, and leaving Spike open for an attack from the droid as it raked its own claws across Spikes face, leaving deep grooves in his chest and face, before pushing him away, its claws dripping with blood.

Spike coughed up blood as he staggered backwards, staring at the looming war droid as it advanced towards him. The thing had resisted his Lightsaber strikes, which meant that it was made out of Mandalorian Iron, which would make this fight tougher than it already was. The other two droids were already smoking, so they were clearly not made from the same near indestructible metal, but they were still fighting hard, and already one of the members of Wolf Squad was falling limply towards the earth.

With a screech of droid code, the droid lurched into action, bounding across the uneven ground towards Spike, firing off a few snap shots as it went.

“This is going to get ugly.” Spike groaned, twisting out of the way at the last second.

Unfortunately for him, the Basilisk anticipated the move and smashed into Spikes chest with its head, sending him flying back into a shallow pool of lava. Spikes head rocked back as he slammed against the rocky bottom with a deafening crash. The Basilisk screeched again, immediately following the blow up with a shot from one of its solid shot cannons. Spike screamed in pain as the shot slammed itself in his gut with a sickening squelch.

Not wanting to wait for the cannon to fire again, Spike forced himself back to his feet, grabbing one of his Lightsabers with one hand while clutching his chest with the other. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to get through the armour plates with his saber, but maybe he could do some damage to the artificial nerve clusters around the joints.

Without a moment of hesitation, Spike surged forward, ignoring the pain as he grabbed one the Basilisk’s sensor modules and slammed his Lightsaber into the gaps in between the droids foreleg and its main body. The Basalisk let out an animalistic screech of pain and stumbled around to face Spike, oil and machine fluids leaking from the crippled limb.

“Not so well protected there, huh?!” Spike yelled in triumph, spinning his Lightsaber around so the blade was protecting his forearm, before slamming his fist and the pommel against the war droid’s face with tremendous force, one of its many cannons cracking and bending under the pressure

Undaunted by the blow, the droid turned its head around, bringing the pulse-wave cannon to bear, squarely aiming at Spikes face. Spikes eyes widened in fear as the weapon began to charge up, and he allowed his Lightsaber to drop from his hands, putting all his willpower into forming a shield between him and the deadly weapon.

A split second later, the weapon fired, slamming into the shield that Spike had managed to raise. It felt like an ice pick had been driven into Spikes brain, and he screamed, before dropping the shield, the laser slamming into the top of his head. He was lucky, the beams power having been mostly absorbed by the shield, but he was still forced backwards by the blow, his head spinning as he raised his arms in defence, catching a blow from the droids claw on his forearm.

Let me finish it, Desolation snarled, trying to force his way to the forefront of Spikes mind.

“I got it!” Spike roared in reply, anger burning in his eyes. This droid had pushed him around long enough, and he was going to end it. Permanently.

Diving forward, Spike unleashed a wall of flame, before grabbing hold of the droids hull, pushing it backwards as it whined in protest. His side was burning, his head was throbbing, and his lungs felt like they were about to explode, but the Adrenaline coursing through his system allowed him to keep moving as he slammed his fist into the side of the droids chassis.

The droid roared as it was forced to the side, before Spike brought it back into position in front of him, only to slam his fist into the metal plate once more.

“Shoot me in the head will you!” he roared as the droid was forced backwards.

“I’ve got enough problems in my head,” he continued, spinning round and slamming the ball of his foot into the droids head mounted cannons, “without you shooting it!”

Hitting the droid with both fists, Spike forced it up until it was vertical, before wrapping his arms around its middle and forcing it backwards. It let out another droid speech howl as its claws scraped at Spikes thick back scales. Spike let out a burst of flames as he continued to force the droid back, the metal plates glowing red hot under the heat. With only a second’s hesitation, Spike slammed his head forward, breaching the metal plate and exposing the working underneath, even as the metal began to cool and stick to his head, giving him a sort of ad-hoc helmet.

“Look what you did!” Spike screamed, letting go of the droid, before bringing his fist round and backhanding the droid, sending metal fragments flying as the sheer blunt force trauma began to break apart the Mandalorian Iron shell.

The droid staggered from the blow, threatening to fall to the floor, before bringing a claw up for a weak attempt at an attack, one that Spike wasn’t going to give it.

Spike spat out a gout of flames, singeing one of the droids sensor remaining veins, before grabbing hold of the claws with his own hands, forcing it away from his head, and allowing him the purchase he needed to finish the fight. With a herculean effort, Spike began to twist the arm it its socket, roaring in pain as his muscles ripped under the strain, before finally tears the limb free, covering both himself and the surrounding area in machine oil as the droid screamed.

Spike continued to scream as he span round, using the severed arm like a bat as he slammed it into the droids fallen body again and again, reducing it to twisted scrap, before falling to his knees beside the dying machine. Shoving his hand inside one of the holes he had created, Spike began to tear out cables, and finally, the droid died.

Spikes scream died in his throat as he allowed himself to sag onto the droids broken body, resting his head as he watched Wolf Squad finish off the last war droid, silently thanking whatever was looking down on him that only one of the machines had been nearly indestructible, before glancing at the horizon.

Huge plumes of thick black smoke were visible everywhere he looked, getting close with each passing second as the fires spread further and further across the planet.

“L-Loup?” Spike grunted, activating his comm unit as best he could through the solid metal around his head.

"I’ve got you sir,” the man said softly, landing behind Spike with the rest of Wolf Squad. “Pick him up, evac’s here.”

Spike glanced upwards, looking at the base of Harmony as the member of Wolf Squad helped him up. Flapping his wings, Spike began to make his way towards the tiny hanger bay, faltering at the last minute and crashing into the deck. It hurt, but in the scheme of things it wasn’t worth complaining about, and he pushed himself unsteadily to his feet.

“Sir, we should get you to the med-lab,” Loup insisted, steadying Spike.

“Y-yeah,” Spike grunted. “Go to…the bridge. Tell Lowell…get us into orbit if he can…hope the heat shields are…working again.”

“Aye sir,” Loup nodded, before striding towards the bridge, leaving the rest of Wolf Squad to help Spike towards the med-lab.

Before he left the hanger, Spike cast one last look at the surface of the planet, sighing as he watched the fires spread across the ground he was just fighting on, before limping towards the med-bay. They may have won in theory, but the fires burning across the world made for a very hollow victory.