//------------------------------// // Supply Raids // Story: The Dragon and the Force // by FenrisianBrony //------------------------------// Spike’s eye flashed open, his bionic one flaring into life an instant later, the red glare adding yet another light source to the crowded bridge of Harmony as he got up from his command throne, walking down the steps on the bridge until he was as close to the reinforced glass as he could get without going through it into the space beyond. The stars beyond the viewport were stretched out in the light blue tunnel of Hyperspace, providing an almost comforting backdrop to the violence of their intended destination. The comforting effect was lost on Spike however, his face remaining as impassive as his new eye as he spoke in a deep rumble. “Ensign Lowell, how long till the fleet breaks hyperspace?” “Two minutes sir, maybe one if we…” Lowell began. “Make it one then, whatever it takes” Spike cut him off, glaring out the window. “Bring the ship up to combat readiness, signal the fleet to do the same.” “Aye sir,” came the near unanimous reply from the bridge staff, before the bridges lights were dimmed, replaced with the harsh red glare of battle lighting and the blare of the ship wide klaxon. Spike returned his gaze to the viewport, his mouth twisting into a grin, showing a few too many teeth for it to be a comforting one. He could feel his blood beginning to boil, and longed to feel his heart pumping faster, his breath quickening, anything to indicate the coming battle, and yet his cybernetics refused to give him anything to go from, which only served to make his anger rise faster. “Breaking hyperspace in five, four, three, two,” Lowell called out, “one, mark.” As soon as he said the final work, the ship decelerated rapidly, an action that would have caused Spike’s stomach to lurch forward in the past. The view from the window had changed now, replaced by the near emptiness of space, punctuated by a large flotilla of supply ships and a few combat vessels. Behind Harmony, the fleet of the Special Forces formed up on their flagship. Spike snarled, before uttering a single word. “Engage.” The order didn’t need to be given, it had already been relayed through the ship before they had even left the moon they were now based on, but Spike still wanted to give it. The mission was a simple one, test out the new interdictor technology that the Republic was trialling, pull a Mandalorian supply convoy out of Hyperspace, destroy its escort and board the remaining ships. If they were lucky this would be an actual military convoy, not one carrying rations or the like. In an instant, the void was filled with colour as bright red blasts lanced out from the Republic fleet, followed quickly by the small fiery trails of missiles and fighters. At least two Mandalorian ships caught the full brunt of the barrage on their unprotected hull, finding themselves suddenly gutted and burning from prow to stern, even as the other ships tried to move to a better position, to hide or fight back as their roles demanded. Spike could have stayed on the bridge and watched the systematic destruction of the Mandalorian escorts, but he had other pressing matters that he had to attend to. “Lowell, you have the bridge,” he grunted as he walked past the man, not waiting to hear a reply. It didn’t take him long to make his way down to the hangar, instantly spotting the contingent of soldiers going through the final checks on their equipment and heading towards them, receiving a few hurried salutes as he went. Not for the first time in recent days Spike caught sight of Moonstone, the mare standing across the hangar from him and looking at him with almost pleading eyes. She never spoke to him anymore, she didn’t even seem to move closer, she just stared at him, silent and almost uncaring. “What’s the matter with you?” he whispered softly to himself, beginning to take a step towards her, before Sergeant Loup broke the spell. “Shouldn’t you be on the bridge still sir?” the man asked as he tightened a strap on his armour. “The battle in space is unimportant, sergeant” Spike replied hollowly, before looking back at where Moonstone had been, seeing nothing there but the hangar wall. Sighing, Spike pulled up a diagnostic suite in his bionic eye, performing an internal scan of his own bionics to check everything was functioning as intended. It had only been a few weeks since he had got them, but he was getting a better grip on their use with every passing day. All of the doctors told him that given enough time, he would barely even notice the difference between the metal implants and his own flesh, but Spike found that hard to believe. “I have to disagree with you there Sir,” Hagman shook his head. “Kind of hard to do our job if we can’t board the ships.” “The Mandalorians have already lost this fight, private, they just don’t know it yet,” Spike spoke decisively as he walked up to the open ramp of one of the two dropships in the hangar, placing a metal claw on it and scowling. “Mount up, we’re going in now.” “Shouldn’t we wait for the…” Loup began, before being stopped by a glare from Spike. “Mount up men. Stay tight in the enemy ships, we don’t know how many guards they have on board.” “They’ll have none by the end of it,” Spike scowled. “Anyone who raises a gun at us is to be taken down with extreme prejudice. Those who cooperate may just make it as POWs.” The transport bay lapsed into silence as Spike finished talking, the soldiers quickly strapping themselves into their seats as the ramp swung closed, sealing them in. Almost immediately Spike felt the ship lurch upwards, before shooting forward out of the hangar bay. Once again Spike wished he could ‘see’ what the ship saw, but considering the fact that he was still struggling with simple telekinesis, he knew that to do so would be folly. Even if he succeeded, the stress would likely drain him to the point where he’d be useless in combat. And we wouldn’t want that, now would we? Desolation purred almost seductively in Spikes mind. Not when there are so many that could lead us to our prey. “Agreed,” Spike nodded with a soft growl of his own. “Did you say something general?” Loup asked. “Nothing you need to worry yourself about, Loup. Just focus on yourself and the rest of Wolf Squad when we’re inside.” “Yes sir,” Loup nodded. “You heard the general, stay alert at all times when inside the ship and watch each other’s backs, I don’t want to be hauling any of you back to Harmony in a body bag, understand?” “Sir,” came the unanimous reply, just as Spike felt the ship touch down. “Show time,” Spike snarled, grabbing hold of his Lightsabers and readying himself to take off at a run, his wings folding close to his body to ensure they didn’t get snagged on anything. About bloody time, Desolation agreed as light began to spill around the dropship’s ramp. Spike didn’t bother to wait until the ramp had touched down fully, taking off at a sprint the moment the gap was wide enough for his ducked form to get through. The Mandalorian guards on the other side of the ramp looked taken aback as Spike barrelled towards them, but recovered quickly, hunkering down behind a hastily erected barricade as the first shots from either side crossed the gap. Spike felt a few shots hit his metal chest, or rather the stopping power they brought with them, but if they had believed that a few blaster bolts would stop his charge, they were sadly mistaken. Like a tidal wave hitting the shore, Spike slammed into the Mandalorian lines, smashing through the flimsy barricade and igniting his Lightsabers, opening his mouth in a bestial roar as he hacked downwards. Gut them. Burn them. Tear them limb from limb. “Don’t need telling twice,” Spike roared as he drove his Lightsaber through the faceplate of a Mandalorian, before spinning around and using his tail to slam into the chest of a trio of conscripted guards, bones shattering as the dense metal hit home. It wasn’t long before all of the Mandalorian defenders in the hangar lay dead at their feet, allowing Spike enough of a lull to concentrate on opening a communications link. “This is Spike to all Special Forces, status report.” “Tarhal to Spike, my forces have taken control of the ship we targeted and are proceeding to search for any pockets of resistance. Limited casualties and a few prisoners, all being loaded onto transport ships,” Tarhal replied over the link, his voice being transmitted directly into Spike’s mind. “Cortez here, similar situation here, although we still have some organised resistance in the lower hold.” “This is Lowell. The Mandalorian fleet is in complete disarray. All combat vessels are either burning or lifeless, and we have managed to board or disable all other ships in the area. We haven’t monitored any communications coming from the fleet, looks like we caught them with their pants down.” “Don’t get cocky,” Spike ordered. “Send any HazOps troops we still have to search what's left of the destroyed ships. Make sure that no one gets communications out and that no guns are left operational. Do not kill the ship’s captains if you can avoid it. Capture and bring them to me if at all possible. Spike out.” Cutting the link, Spike looked back at Loup and the rest of Wolf Squad, as well as the three other squads that were busy checking the dead to make sure they had really passed on. Spike began doing the same, putting pressure on some of the bodies with one of his feet until armour splintered beneath his heavy claws. More than one managed a raspy moan of pain, before being silenced once more. True to his word, those who raised arms against him and his men would be terminated, regardless of their condition. Spike stood still as he watched his men fan out, his face twisting into a mixture between a grimace and a look of intense concentration as he wracked his brain for his companion in the lull in combat. He touched Desolation’s mind quickly enough, feeling the savage ferocity of the dragon warm at his mental touch, but Moonstone was nowhere to be found. Every time he thought he had cornered her, things shifted around, everything he had cordoned off slipping through his mental grasp. “General? Are you ok?” Loup asked, jogging over towards Spike. “I’m fine Sergeant,” Spike muttered, forcing himself out of his trace. “Go find the Captain, bring him to me. Now.” “You heard the general, load up and follow me, we’re heading for the bridge,” Loup called out, the troops around him following his lead, leaving Spike alone in the hangar. You’re not going with them, Desolation pointed out. “Astute as always,” Spike snapped back. “Where’s Moonstone, Desolation?” I don’t know Spike. She and I didn’t exactly chat on a regular basis. “Don’t give me that crap. You’re both part of my mind, now where the hell is she and why won’t she talk to me?” I don’t know, Desolation insisted. Spike, you work best when your mind is fully focused on the task ahead. If I knew what was wrong with Moonstone, I would tell you to get you back to full strength. Do you think I enjoy being carried around in your mind when you’re not a hundred percent focused on combat ahead? “Maybe it’s the bionics blocking me from her then,” Spike sighed softly, before glancing around the hangar, checking that he was alone. “You have five minutes, or until someone returns.” For what? “Our body’s hungry, you want some time to stretch our legs yourself. Fill in the gaps.” “I thought you’d never offer,” Desolation chuckled darkly. Five minutes Desolation. No more. Understand? “Oh yeah, I understand,” Desolation leant down as he spoke, picking up one of the lightly armoured conscripts and using a claw to slice through the straps of the armour, his tongue snaking out into a hissing sound as he worked. *** Desolation dropped the mutilated corpse back to the floor, ideally chewing on a bone as he flicked a few pieces of meat from his claws. His good mood was suddenly damped however when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps, and he allowed the bone to fall to the floor. Deal’s a deal Spikey. “I know,” Spike nodded, wiping the blood from around his mouth with the tattered cloth the man had been clothed in previously, before stepping away from the corpse and walking to meet Loup and the rest of Wolf Squad, a Mandalorian in red armour limping defiantly alongside them. “The captain I assume?” Spike asked, running his finger along the seal of the Mandalorian’s helmet. “Take it off.” “I’d rather die,” the Mandalorian shot back. “That can be arranged, but later,” Spike chuckled. It wasn’t a comforting laugh, all sense of positive emotion being drowned out by the morbid undertone. “I’m not in the mood for games.” Digging his claw in a bit further, Spike began to slice through the weaker metal at the neck joint, careful not to puncture the frail flesh it covered. The metal on metal screech was almost unbearable, and Spike momentarily debated deactivating his audio receptors, before the helmet finally came free, revealing a bearded human scowling back at him. Before Spike could speak, the man spat directly at his face, covering his bionic eye. A few seconds later, the spit began to bubble and boil, before evaporating on the hot surface of the bionic, Spike leering down at the Mandalorian. “Try that again and I’ll make sure crashing into a wall is the least painful activity of your day.” “But I haven’t crashed into the wall,” the man said in confusion, his resolve wavering slightly. “Oh yes, right you are,” Spike nodded, before his hand shot forward and grabbed hold of the man, hurling him against the wall. The two met with a sickening crunch, followed swiftly by a scream as Spike walked back over. “Funny thing about pain,” he mused as he looked down at the man. “It’s our body’s way of telling us that we shouldn’t do whatever we just did again, which in this case is disobeying. I am not in the mood for games, and there are plenty more captains to ask my questions to. Pain is also a good indicator of if you’re alive, believe it or not, so if you’re in pain, it means you’re alive. I can make pain last for a long time.” “Go to…” “If you’re going to end that sentence with hell then I’ll tear your tongue out now,” Spike growled. “I’m sick of hearing it. But down to business, and my questions. What is your cargo, where are you heading, and on who gave the orders?” “I’d answer him,” Loup cautioned, his face impassive as he glared down at the Mandalorian. “You promise my safety?” the Mandalorian checked. “I’ll serve justice,” Spike nodded. “Now, answer.” “We’re carrying military hardware, armour, vehicles and weapons,” the man began quickly. “Most of the equipment was what we could take from Taris before its fall, but some ships are from other worlds that have been deemed unholdable. We are transporting it all to Duxn under the direct orders of Cassus…” “Cassus Fett?” Spike visibly tensed at the name, hauling the man to his feet despite the pained protests. “Where is he?” “I…I don’t know,” the captain stammered. “A-All I know is that Duxn is his brain child, the planet is a fortress, one that will break the Republic.” “So you don’t know where he is?” Spike asked softly, dropping the man to the floor. “No,” the man shook his head with gritted teeth. “I’ve told you everything. Please, hold up your end of the bargain.” “My end?” Spike asked quizzically. “Y-You promised to spare my life,” the man stammered. “Did I?” Spike paused for a moment in mock thought, before chuckling. “Ah, I see how you might think that. What did I actually say though? That I would serve justice.” Spike’s face hardened as a hand shot out, grabbing the man by his throat and hauling him up to his eye level, his tail moving up as well until it was in line with the man’s eyes “Any last words?” “You’re a monster,” the man whimpered. “Boy, you have no idea,” Spike snarled, before his tail shot forward, the sharp end driving through the man’s right eye and out the back of his head. Spike let go with his hand, supporting the body with just his tail for a few seconds, allowing blood to run down the metal, pooling in the crevices, before throwing the corpse from him with a casual flick. “You heard him, looks like we hit a decent hoard here. I want full manifests transmitted back to Harmony as soon as possible. Round up any prisoners too, keep them on the ships and put a skeleton crew in place to get them back home. We’ll go through everything properly when we get out of open space. When the other captains arrive, question them and deal with them as you see fit. Loup, I’m leaving you in charge until Cortez or Tarhal comes aboard. Affirmative?” “Affirmative sir,” Loup nodded, turning to the others and beginning to issue orders as Spike began walking towards one of the dropships. “Were you supposed to do that sir?” The pilot asked, looking back as Spike clambered aboard. “He asked for justice,” Spike shrugged. “What did he expect?” *** Spike sat down in the command throne on the bridge of Harmony, patiently waiting as the lights by the names of the captured ships went from red to green. Each one was currently being searched and catalogued, the data transmitted directly to the improved droid brain nestled deep within Spike’s ship. Tapping his finger idly on the arm of the chair, Spike watched the final light turn green, before opening a communication channel between his bionics and the ships brain. Accessing captured ships manifest. Processing. Processing. Done. Total cargo numbers tallied and recorded. - Mandalorian ‘Neo-Crusader’ Class Armour – Nineteen Thousand Nine Hundred And Thirty Four Units. - Mandalorian ‘Neo-Crusader Rally Master’ Class Armour – Four Hundred And Sixty Three Units. - Mandalorian ‘Neo-Crusader Field Marshal’ Class Armour – Two Units. - Jai-38 Heavy Walker Tanks – Fifty Nine Units. - T-21 Assault Troop Transports – Five Hundred And Ten Units. - T-20 Rapid Troop Transports – Six Hundred And Ninety Four Units. - Basalisk Heavy Assault Droids – One Unit. - Type Thirty Two Combat Droids – Ten Thousand Units - Type Thirty Nine Combat Droids – Five Thousand Six Hundred And Two Units. - Type Two Field Medic Droids – Three Thousand And Seventy One Units. - Type Seventy Three Field Engineer Droids – Three Thousand And Eight Units. Additionally, several ships have been captured intact: - Goliath Class Transport Vessels – Fifty Seven Ships - Beskarvid Class Warships – Three Ships - Prisoners have also been taken and accounted for, before being confined to Brigs or quarters aboard their own vessels. Total count, two thousand and seven. Total enemy casualties estimated at nine thousand and sixty three. Spike let out a soft whistle as he looked over the list, the data copying itself automatically to his own brain for reviewing later if he so wished. He had yet to get exact numbers on his own casualties, but unless he had lost over half of his force in the attack and most of his ships, he was fairly confident that he could call the raid an incredible success. What came next was slightly more complicated, what to do with the captured materials. The prisoners would obviously be turned over to Republic Judiciary Forces for detainment and/or interrogation as the situation demanded, but the armour, tanks and droids were still unaccounted for. None of Spike’s orders had specifically mentioned what he had to do with loot, and Republic standing orders didn’t really cover this level of haul. “Well, I guess the tanks can go back to the core for examining,” Spike mused. “Not like we have an armoured section. The droids can be transferred to mechanised units. The armour though?” We could always use it, Desolation suggested. “Use Mandalorian armour?” Spike snorted. “Fuck off.” Would if I could. The point stands that their equipment is better than ours. You going to throw away this chance? Could give us the edge against Cassus. Spike slowly nodded, before beginning to type up the report of the raid, attaching the records of the haul and copying it to Revan, as well as Republic High Command, before leaning back in his chair, turning to watch the alluring tunnel of hyperspace.