Star Wars: The War That Only the UNSC Can End

Theed Royal Palace, Naboo

"We need reinforcements, Chancellor. Any available Republic ship," Senator Amidala demanded, trying to remain calm as Chancellor Palpatine's hologram flickered in front of her.

The explosions were getting closer, and the screams of despair reached even the halls of the palace. Soldiers fortified themselves in their positions, ready to defend the senator to the end.

"Senator Amidala," the Supreme Chancellor replied in a grave tone, "I will do everything I can, but this war has devastated the Republic military. The Senate rejected the proposal to ally with the Confederacy. I do not have enough resources, and I cannot leave Coruscant unprotected."

Padmé pressed her lips together, her gaze filled with frustration. "Chancellor, please," she insisted, although deep down she knew what the answer would be.

"I'm sorry, Senator. I will try to find some solution... but I have few options," Palpatine replied before cutting the communication.

Padmé stood stock still for a moment, until rage got the better of her and she slammed the holotable. “Damn decrepit old man!” she exclaimed, barely containing the frustration that was gnawing at her.

“Senator, we have an incoming communication… it’s from the Republic,” one of the soldiers reported.

“Put it on the holotable,” Padmé ordered. The holographic image of Anakin Skywalker projected in front of her, and relief filled her face at the sight. “Anakin,” he whispered, his voice heavy with emotion and concern.

“Padmé,” Anakin replied with a frown, his expression as tense as the situation. “We received your distress signal; we’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

Padmé closed her eyes, struggling to remain calm. “Thirty minutes… Anakin, we don’t even have ten,” she replied, desperation clear in her voice.

"We took off as soon as we received your message, Padmé. We're the only fleet close enough to Naboo... just hold out a little longer," Anakin replied before the transmission ended.

Padmé sighed deeply, trying to convince herself that they could make it. "We must hold out until the Republic arrives," she muttered, though she knew the reality was brutal. Eight Covenant ships faced only three Republic ships; a situation that all but assured defeat.

The senator felt a pang of hopelessness. If the fleet failed, there would be only two options: surrender or face the total vitrification of Naboo. The Covenant ships dominated space; the Republic had vastly underestimated the threat. "Damn!" Padmé exclaimed, venting her frustration with a kick to the holotable, drawing worried glances from nearby soldiers. "Any news from the Mandalorians?"

"The last communication we received was fifteen minutes ago. They confirmed they were on their way, Senator," Panaka reported.

Padmé typed rapidly on the holotable, seeing a real-time map of the Naboo capital. The Republic forces, marked in green, were being overrun by the Covenant advance, highlighted in red. Critical points flickered as she tried to locate her troops. She knew that Jedi Knight Aayla Secura was coordinating defense efforts with the clones in the field, but the situation was desperate.

Padmé was no strategist like Anakin; she lacked his tactical skill and strength, but she was not about to give up. She took a deep breath, and decisively began to move her forces, directing the palace troops to strategic points where they could hold off the enemy advance.

"Any news on Queen Neeyutnee?" Padmé asked without taking her eyes off the holotable. "I don't see her platoon on the map."

"We lost contact with the queen's platoon nine minutes ago, Senator. They're not responding," a soldier replied. "The clone escort team hasn't arrived yet."

Padmé felt a pang of anxiety. "It can't be... try to contact the clone team. I need you to find the queen right now!"

"Right away, Senator," the soldier replied, returning to his attempts at communication as tension rose in the room.

---

The Republic command center was a mess. Unlike the checkpoint at the Naboo palace, this one was situated in the middle of a battlefield, subject to constant bombardment that shook the ground and filled the air with smoke and debris.

Clones moved frantically around them. They had long since stopped seeing civilians fleeing; now all attention was focused on defending the city and stopping the Covenant's relentless advance at all costs. Jedi Knight Aayla Secura ran relentlessly, her movements fueled by the Force as she dodged a hail of plasma fire that crossed the plaza.

With each enemy charge, Aayla's lightsaber glowed, tracing arcs of blue energy as she deflected shots and dismembered Covenant soldiers. Exhaustion weighed on her shoulders, but she had no time to think about it. Her breathing was erratic, her ribs ached with each inhalation, and a pounding in her head haunted her. Yet she could not stop; the lives of her soldiers depended on her endurance. With each stroke of her saber, she screamed in her mind that she would not allow her troops to fall.

Around her, the clones struggled to hold their positions. They fired with precision, cutting down the approaching Grunts and Jackals, while the feared Elites advanced with skill. Aayla deflected bullets with superhuman speed, her movements as fluid as they were deadly, while her troops lined up behind barricades and fortifications, firing with frenzied focus at the invaders.

The plaza in Naboo's capital was now a veritable war zone. Clones ran in all directions, some carrying the wounded away from the line of fire, others repairing damaged anti-aircraft batteries, and a few stationing themselves at makeshift barricades to slow the enemy advance.

"Don't back down!" Aayla shouted, not stopping the movement of her lightsaber as it flashed as it blocked plasma blasts.

In the midst of the fight, a Covenant Phantom appeared above them, opening fire with savage intensity. Aayla focused the Force, reaching out her hand towards the vehicle in an attempt to slow its advance and deflect its shots long enough for the plaza's anti-air defenses to reach it. "Now, take that ship down!" she shouted to the gunners.

The clones responded quickly, and a laser cannon swung towards the Phantom, launching a projectile that struck it in the side. The ship exploded in midair, scattering fragments that rained down across the plaza, some ignited in flames. A cry of victory arose among the troops, but the battle was far from over.

Aayla spun towards a new threat, blocking a plasma attack from an Elite charging at her, holding her own energy sword. With a quick turn, she deflected his attack, then countered with a precise strike that pierced the enemy armor, knocking him down. But she could barely catch her breath as more enemies advanced from the nearby alleys.

“Hold on, soldiers! Just a little longer!” Aayla encouraged, her eyes burning with determination. She knew the Republic was on the way, but she also understood that any minute lost could cost them the battle.

Three clones emerged from the Republic command post, shoulder-mounted missile launchers and advancing rapidly. With trained precision, they targeted a squadron of Banshees swooping down on their positions and fired before the enemies had time to maneuver. The missiles streaked through the air and exploded upon impact with the Banshees, turning them into debris and fireballs that fell like meteors onto the streets of Naboo, lighting up the night sky with flashes of destruction.

“Fire! Fire! Fire!” A clone sergeant at the front of his squad shouted, raising his blaster and leading his soldiers. “We will not allow them to advance any further!”

The squad responded immediately, firing relentlessly into an approaching group of Covenant soldiers. The Grunts (Unggoy) quickly fell under the hail of gunfire from the clones, their bodies collapsing on the ground with their heads blown off and their masks shattered. The Jackals (Kig-Yar), however, raised their shields and began firing back with stingers, countering the attack with deadly precision.

“Look out!” the sergeant shouted, darting behind a barricade just in time, but three of his men were not so lucky. A volley of stingers tore through them, embedding themselves in their armor and beginning to explode with a series of explosions that tore their bodies apart. The clones fell, armor destroyed and their bodies badly wounded, turning their last screams into an echo of pain.

The sergeant, feeling the loss of his men, took a deep breath and clenched his fist, letting anger fill his mind. “I will kill you all!” he screamed in a piercing voice, leaping from cover and opening fire in rage. His blaster unleashed a ferocious volley, hitting several Covenant soldiers and driving the vanguard back.

He lunged forward, activating several detonators to unleash an explosion, when he felt an icy coldness pierce through his chest. He looked down, and an Elite energy sword pierced him, cutting off his breath. With a final effort, he cursed the enemy, then fell to the ground, his body limp.

Instantly, more than ten Elites emerged from the shadows, surrounding the platoon of clones. Energy swords and plasma weapons gleamed in their hands, as they relentlessly advanced on the soldiers. The clones tried to react, but the attack was swift and merciless.

“No… No, no, no!” one of the clones screamed, his voice filled with terror, as he watched the Elites raise their weapons and open fire mercilessly. Plasma shots rained down on the platoon, their armor melting under the intensity of the attack. Helmet visors shattered, and the clones’ bodies writhed in pain, until their guts and burned organs fell to the ground.

One by one, the platoon was slaughtered in a matter of seconds, until the last clone fell. The air smelled of burnt metal and blood, as the Elites continued to advance, leaving only destruction in their path.

“Kill those bastards!” a captain shouted, and another twenty clones burst behind the defensive positions, each holding detonators in their hands. “Fire!”

Without hesitation, they threw the detonators towards the Elites’ line, unleashing a series of deafening explosions. The impact raised a cloud of smoke and debris, and without letting up, the clones raised their blasters and opened fire. Their screams filled the air, a mix of fury and desperation.

They were exhausted, hands shaking on the triggers, and fear reflected in their eyes, but they knew they could not back down. This battle was their last chance to resist.

“Don’t stop!” the captain roared, as the clones inched forward, firing relentlessly.

The street was a chaos of light and color, with plasma and laser bolts crisscrossing in every direction. The Covenant troops kept coming, relentless, their ranks endless like a wave of destruction. The clones fought with every fiber of their being, firing and taking cover in a frenzied pace as they tried to hold back the enemy advance.

In the center of the battle, Aayla Secura moved with deadly grace. Her lightsaber pulsed with a blue glow, and with a fluid twist, she plunged it into the chest of a Brute who fell to the ground with a final groan. Without pausing, she spun and raised her saber to deflect a flurry of plasma shots, each movement charged with precision and power. With superhuman dexterity, she threw her saber in a deadly arc twenty meters away, where it cleaved through a sniping Kig-Yar, splitting its body in two. With a quick gesture of her hand, she called back the saber, which returned to its hilt with a hum.

Aayla took a breath, her muscles burning, but her resolve still intact. The clones, inspired by her leadership, screamed loudly and advanced down the street, clearing away any Covenant resistance with concentrated fire. The atmosphere vibrated with the intensity of battle: the pops of detonators, the creaking of armor breaking under the gunfire, and the relentless roar of the warring forces.

The clones spotted a pair of civilians trapped under the rubble, and without hesitation ran to try to rescue them. The desperation and sense of duty in their eyes spoke for themselves. But they had barely taken a few steps when a hail of plasma fire fell upon them. The clones fell, riddled with bullets without time to react, their bodies lying motionless in front of the terrified civilians, whose rescue now seemed impossible.

Across the street, the roar of engines echoed through the air as several Ghosts appeared, ridden by Elites who advanced mercilessly. The plasma storm intensified, lighting up the battlefield with deadly flashes. Clones fell back, struggling to maintain cover as the enemy rapidly gained ground.

But suddenly, the rumble of more powerful engines echoed through the shattered streets as two Republic TX-130 tanks burst onto the battlefield, their guns trained with precision on the Ghosts. With a single blast of laser energy, one tank blew a Ghost apart, engulfing it in flames and burning it to pieces. The other tank turned and fired mercilessly, taking out two more mounted Elites before they could react. However, Covenant reinforcements were quick to appear.

From a side street, a Wraith lumbered forward, its mortar cannon spewing a plasma shell in the direction of the tanks. The first TX-130 maneuvered quickly, but it wasn’t fast enough: the shot caught it in the side, and the tank exploded in an explosion that sent nearby clones sprawling to the ground. Only one Republic tank remained, firing desperately, its frantic shots trying to hold back the Wraith’s onslaught.

The situation became even more chaotic when a squad of Elites, led by a golden-armored Commander, advanced on foot, blasters in hand and energy swords activated. The clones still remaining in the plaza regrouped, shouting orders and opening fire on the squad coming at them. Gunfire rained down in both directions, and every bullet, every plasma bolt, every explosion was a reminder of the ferocity of this battle.

One of the Elites managed to get close to the formation of clones, his energy sword glowing as he cut a soldier in two with a single movement. Another clone, in an act of desperate bravery, launched himself at the Elite with a detonator in hand, activating it as both were consumed in a fireball. Blood and screams flooded the place, as the Republic soldiers fought with everything they had.

Aayla Secura, leading the clones, advanced with her lightsaber glowing. With quick, precise movements, she deflected the plasma shots as she approached the golden Elite Commander. The two stared at each other for a brief second before lunging at each other. Energy swords clashed, a deadly dance between blue light and burning plasma. Each blow was dodged or blocked in a frenzied exchange that kept both combatants on edge.

The battle was a hell of destruction: corpses piled up, and the smell of burnt metal and charred flesh filled the air. Explosions echoed as tanks fired and Elites attacked mercilessly. The clones fought with desperate fury, each aware that this would possibly be their last battle, but determined to sell their lives dearly.

Finally, Aayla managed to open a gap in the Elite Commander's defense and, with a precise movement, pierced his chest with her lightsaber. The Elite fell, leaving a final grunt of defiance before collapsing lifelessly. But the victory was short-lived: another group of Covenant troops was approaching from the north, including more Wraiths and squads of Jackals who were already aiming their stinger rifles in the direction of the surviving clones.

"Regroup! Defend the plaza!" Aayla shouted, her voice steady despite her exhaustion.

The few remaining clones continued to fire, their bodies covered in dust and wounds, their resistance diminishing. One by one, the soldiers fell, but the blaster fire continued, filling the air with the last shots of those fighting to the end.

The retreat of the Republic troops became a last desperate attempt at defense. Aayla Secura, exhausted but determined, gathered the few remaining clones at a shattered crossroads that would serve as the last defensible position in the city. There, amid the chaos, they prepared for the Covenant's final assault, knowing that this time there would be no reinforcements, only the hope of surviving a little longer and causing as much damage as possible.

With a wince of pain and determination, Aayla used the Force to lift the remains of the destroyed TX-130 tanks, launching them with superhuman effort toward the advancing Covenant lines. The wrecked tanks crashed into several enemy vehicles, detonating in a series of explosions that sent Elites and Grunts flying in all directions. For a brief moment, the cloud of smoke and roar of explosions covered the retreating Republic forces.

“Set up defensive positions here! Don’t let them advance another inch!” Aayla shouted, her voice rasping with fatigue and strain. The clones regrouped in the ruins of nearby buildings, erecting makeshift barricades out of rubble and whatever materials they could find.

They had barely taken up their positions when the first rounds of plasma lit up the scene. The Elites led the Covenant charge, followed by a tide of Grunts and Jackals that fearlessly advanced, confident in their numerical superiority and the brutality of their weaponry. The clones responded with everything they had, their blasters creating a relentless barrage of fire. Each shot was a promise of resistance, each enemy death a brief triumph in the midst of hell.

The exchange was brutal. The clones' shots hit the Grunts, who fell one after another, their bodies shrouded in smoke and blood. The Jackals advanced behind their energy shields, but the clones aimed precisely for the openings, piercing their defenses and eliminating them with lethal shots. As the corpses piled up, the ground was stained with a thick pool of purple and blue, a testament to the intensity of the battle.

Aayla leapt forward, her lightsaber spinning in a whirlwind of blue light. With each spin and each strike, she cut down the Covenant troops that came too close. An Elite tried to charge at her with its energy sword, but Aayla, in one fluid movement, dodged the attack and countered with a deadly blow, piercing the enemy armor and knocking the Elite down. There was no time for celebration: another was already on the way, and she had to keep fighting.

Covenant Banshee ships flew over the clones' position, launching plasma blasts from the air. The clones, already low on resources, responded with their last remaining missiles and anti-aircraft cannons, shooting down some of the ships that exploded in the air, falling in flames over the devastated streets. But for every Banshee downed, two more seemed to arrive, dropping their plasma bombs with deadly precision.

"Detonators ready!" A clone sergeant shouted as he and his team launched frag grenades at the enemy troops trying to surround them. The explosions were deafening, tearing apart Grunts and Jackals in a brutal burst of shrapnel, but the Elites continued to advance relentlessly.

Aayla looked around, noting the dwindling number of clones still standing. With each passing minute, the odds of survival diminished, but the Jedi showed no sign of surrender. Instead, with a cry of determination, she once again launched herself forward, blocking plasma bolts and directing her soldiers in what would be a last stand.

Then, from the smoke and fire of the enemy front, two Hunters emerged, massive and covered in thick armor plates. Their fuel cannons ignited, launching powerful bursts of green energy that shattered the makeshift barricades and reduced several clones trying to take cover to ash.

“Focus on the Hunters! Covering fire!” Aayla shouted. The clones fired in a desperate volley, but the shells bounced off the Hunters’ armor as they advanced relentlessly. One of the surviving TX-130 tanks fired a direct shot, causing one of the Hunters to retreat, but the monster soon recovered, returning the attack with a volley that ripped the tank apart, sending metal debris flying across the field.

Aayla Secura exhaled deeply after taking down the last Hunter, her muscles tense and her senses on edge. Before she could catch her breath, a deafening roar announced the arrival of more Covenant troops. Grunts, Jackals, and Elites emerged in waves, advancing relentlessly toward the Republic’s last defensible position. Aayla and the few remaining clones exchanged desperate glances; they knew their chances were fading with every minute.

But then, like a miracle in the midst of the storm, a rumble broke through the chaos. Shadows streaked across the sky, and in precise formation, the Mandalorian ships descended upon the battlefield, casting flashes of light that illuminated the shattered terrain. Mandalorian warriors, their armor gleaming in the crossfire, descended like war angels, armed to the teeth and ready to defend the Republic position.

“Yes, reinforcements!” one of the clones shouted, his voice filled with renewed hope as he watched his new allies join the fight. The Mandalorians advanced with deadly precision, blasters and flamethrowers roaring in unison as they charged straight into the Covenant lines.

Their brutal efficiency began to even the balance of the battle, allowing Aayla and the clones to withstand the onslaught with greater ease.

The remaining clones, though exhausted and wounded, took up position alongside the Mandalorians, trading cover fire and managing, for the first time in hours, to regain ground. The streets were now a chaotic killing field where every foot was won with blood. The Mandalorians fought side by side with the clones, covering each other, throwing detonators that sent the Covenant troops flying in a shower of fire and metal.

Yet the fighting remained fierce. Amidst the chaos, Aayla fought with agility and skill, deflecting plasma shots and cutting down any Elites who dared to get too close. Her lightsaber moved in deadly arcs, leaving trails of smoke and fallen bodies in its wake. Though Mandalorian support relieved the pressure, Covenant troops continued to arrive relentlessly, and the ground was stained with the colors of battle.

Just when it seemed the scales were beginning to tip in favor of the Republic and its allies, a communiqué urged Aayla on. It was a transmission from the Naboo palace guards.

"Jedi Secura, this is Senator Amidala. We attempted to contact the clone squad assigned to escort the Queen, but have received no response from our squad or the clones in several minutes. We believe... something may have happened."

Aayla's face tightened upon hearing the message. Echo and Fives were some of the most capable clones, and the fact that they weren't responding was an alarming sign. As gunfire and explosions continued around them, Aayla made a quick decision, knowing she couldn't leave the front lines, but also that she couldn't ignore the potential threat to the Queen.

“I’ll send another team as soon as I can, and keep me informed of any developments,” Aayla replied, struggling to remain calm.

The fighting raged on, but the Mandalorian presence inspired Naboo’s defenders. Each Mandalorian fought with the ferocity their reputation dictated, holding on relentlessly, and each surviving clone clung to this last chance for victory. The battlefield burned as blasters fired relentlessly, lightsabers flashed, and the union of Republic and Mandalorians created a symbol of resilience amidst the destruction.

Despite her exhaustion, Aayla Secura held her ground, holding the front of this last line of defense, confident that there was still a chance for victory. However, uncertainty over Echo and Fives' fate remained, like a shadow on the battlefield, and the horrors of war continued as the battle drew to a close... or, perhaps, just a temporary pause.

End of Chapter 7.