Star Wars: The War That Only the UNSC Can End

Dreker slowly cleaned the tables in the bar, watching with a mixture of resignation and longing the customers who came and went. Free men and women, adventurers from the stars and local bandits, each with their own stories. They could all choose their destiny, move as they pleased, love, fight and, above all, live with the freedom he longed for.

The stories of the Jedi and the Mandalorian warriors filled his mind with heroic images. Dreker had always dreamed of wielding a lightsaber, of wearing armor like those warriors of Mandalore. But reality was different. For as long as he could remember, he had been a slave, and when he tried to escape the last time, the price was high: his mother, the only family he had, was killed as a warning.

His owner, a ruthless merchant who prided himself on his collection of slaves, had made it clear to him that there would be no second chances. To him, Dreker was just a resource, an investment meant to bring him profit, someone who served tirelessly in return for nothing. And in a place like Tatooine, isolated and lawless, the dream of freedom seemed always out of reach.

Dreker approached the table with a shaking tray, glancing sideways at the three Mandalorians. He knew they were renowned for their combat prowess, for their honor and courage, but also for their cold, cutting disposition. The leader of the group, a woman with short orange hair, eyed him with disdain as he set the drinks down on the table. Seeing Dreker hesitate for a moment, fascinated by her armor and imposing presence, she glared at him coldly.

"What are you looking at, slave?" she blurted, each word dripping with contempt.

Dreker gulped, feeling humiliated. "I just… wanted to ask…" he stammered. "How did it happen? How did they lose Mandalore?"

The question fell like a stone in water, creating a heavy atmosphere at the table. One of the other Mandalorians looked away, uncomfortable, while the leader narrowed her eyes, her expression hardening.

"I'll show you something, brat," he said, standing up. He grabbed Dreker by the wrist and pushed him toward the bar owner, who watched the act with an approving smile. "Maybe someone should show you your place, because Mandalore doesn't have time to answer a servant's questions."

The reprimand stung Dreker to the core. It was a mix of shame and rage, that eternal longing to be more than just a servant. Dreker stepped back, looking at the Mandalorian woman with eyes filled with sadness and confusion. How could they be so strong and yet so defeated? How could someone who seemed so proud have lost everything, even his own planet?

He stared at his worn boots, the sound of murmurs and the bustle of the bar resuming around him.

Dreker's owner, a red-skinned, horned Devaronian named Vrek, watched him with a mix of disdain and fury. Seeing the brief confrontation between Dreker and the Mandalorians, his brow furrowed and he snapped his fingers, signaling him to follow. Dreker felt a knot in his stomach as he complied. He knew what was coming.

Vrek led him behind the bar, away from the sight of the patrons and the bustle. As soon as they were alone, without a word, Vrek landed a punch to his face, sending him reeling. Dreker barely had time to regain his balance before the Devaronian grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and slammed him into the wall.

"You think you're brave, slave? You think you can talk to the patrons like you're one of them?" Vrek spat the words with venom as he threw another punch.

Dreker tried to protect himself, but it was no use. Vrek was strong, and above all, he was filled with hate. After a while, the Devaronian threw him to the ground and pulled out some thick chains, which he used to bind him by his hands and feet, tying him to a pipe.

"Don't move from here, you scum," he growled, and walked away, leaving Dreker in pain and chained, lying on the cold sand and metal floor.

As he lay on the ground, Dreker felt a mixture of rage, sadness, and hopelessness. His dreams of freedom seemed increasingly distant, and he wondered if he could ever escape this cycle of misery. He closed his eyes, wishing, once again, to be someone free.

It was then that he heard the first sound of alarms. He opened his eyes and saw the sky turning a reddish hue. From his position, he could see through one of the windows how a massive fleet appeared on the horizon, descending like gigantic shadows that stretched out over the desert. They were Covenant ships, a fleet of 25 ships of different sizes that invaded the sky of Tatooine, filling the air with an ominous presence.

Chaos broke out in a matter of seconds. Screams filled the bar and people began to run in all directions, some tripping over chairs, others pushing each other in their attempt to reach the exit. The sound of explosions came closer and closer, and from the horizon, large fireballs descended like lethal comets, marking the beginning of a direct attack on Mos Eisley.

The structure of the bar began to shake with each impact. Sand outside flew in all directions, mixing with the smoke from the buildings that were beginning to be destroyed. Dreker, chained and trapped on the ground, looked on in desperation, wanting to get out of there, to escape this hell. It was then that he saw the three Mandalorians, the same ones who had scorned him before, running towards the back of the bar.

Led by a woman with short orange hair, Bo-Katan Kryze, the Mandalorians moved quickly, adjusting their helmets and preparing to flee. Dreker felt a spark of hope and, with a trembling voice, he shouted to them.

"Help me! Please, don't leave me here!" he begged as he struggled against the chains.

Bo-Katan looked at him for a moment through the visor of her helmet. Her expression was cold, without the slightest hint of compassion. He merely bowed his head and, in a tone of voice devoid of empathy, replied:

"A slave like you has no place with us. Do us a favor and stay here. You'd only be in the way."

With those words, Bo-Katan and the other Mandalorians turned their backs on him, leaving the bar without looking back. Dreker watched as they disappeared into the distance, his eyes filled with tears of helplessness. His body trembled, and the pain of the chains on his wrists and ankles paled in comparison to the wound of that contempt.

As the Mandalorians left, Dreker felt his chest fill with despair. Tears began to run down his face, and a silent sob escaped his lips. He looked toward the horizon, where the reddish glow of vitrification advanced relentlessly. The surface of the planet seemed to melt under the Covenant's fire, turning the sands into burning glass, razing everything in its path.

It wasn't long before chaos took hold in Mos Eisley. Covenant troops descended en masse, filling the horizon with Phantom and Spirit transports that spewed soldiers toward the city. The resistance of Tatooine's inhabitants ignited like a powder keg: merchants, farmers, and smugglers armed themselves with whatever they had at hand, determined not to give up their homes without a fight.

The first explosions were felt at the edges of the city. Every alley, every market, became an improvised trench. Blaster fire filled the air, mixed with the plasma projectiles that the Covenant launched in all directions. Small groups of civilian fighters held positions, taking cover behind boxes, vehicles, and walls, but the difference in strength was abysmal. The screams of the wounded were confused with the sound of gunfire, creating a sonic hell in the hot city.

Dreker, still chained in the back of the bar, watched the alien troops advance, frozen between fear and awe. He tried to wriggle away, but the chains held him trapped. Dust and sand flew around as the first explosions echoed near his position.

Suddenly, the echo of metallic footsteps came closer quickly. It was a squad of Unggoys and Jackals, advancing with their weapons ready and shields raised. One of the Unggoys saw Dreker trapped and raised his plasma pistol, aiming at him. Dreker thought that was the end… but then, fate intervened.

The rumble of the orbital drop pod reverberated through the alley, and Dreker was barely able to protect himself from the cloud of dust and debris raised by the impact. When he looked up, the crushed body of the Unggoy lay beneath the pod, a mass of flesh and shattered armor. An instant later, the pod's door slid open with a hydraulic click, and from within emerged a soldier in black armor, the ODST's signature visored helmet gleaming in the Tatooine sun.

The ODST whipped around, assessing the situation and aiming his assault rifle in all directions. Without a second's rest, the soldier located a chained Dreker, staring with desperation still etched on his face. The soldier glanced at him for a brief moment, then without wasting any time, activated his communicator.

"This is Alpha-Seven, I've touched base at the Mos Eisley perimeter," he reported in a raspy voice. "They have civilians at risk; I'll need immediate support."

Dreker, still stunned by the soldier's sudden arrival, managed to stammer, "Are you real? Are you here to save us?"

The ODST nodded briefly and, without a word, knelt down to examine the chains. From his belt he pulled out a small, portable blowtorch, which he began to cut through Dreker's bonds with precision. At the same time, sounds of gunfire and screaming grew louder around them. The battle was drawing closer.

When Dreker was finally free, the ODST forcefully lifted him up and pushed him into the alley. "Stay low and follow my lead," the soldier ordered.

At that moment, Dreker looked up and, through the clouds of smoke and the glare of explosions, he spotted what seemed to be his only hope. In the sky, Republic and UNSC ships were making their way in formation, facing the Covenant fleet. A Republic Venator fired its laser cannons at a Covenant cruiser, while several UNSC frigates lined up to protect the transports that were beginning to descend with more troops.

The air filled with drop pods and transports. UNSC and Republic troops were arriving in waves, and in the midst of it all, Dreker felt a mix of relief and fear. For the first time, he saw a chance for survival.

The ODST remained vigilant, and at that moment, he spoke without losing focus: "Come on, this is just beginning. Get ready, you're going to see how we really fight up close."

-x.X.x-
The combined UNSC and Republic fleet streaked into the Tatooine system, ready to confront the Covenant invasion force that had already begun vitrifying parts of the planet. From the Infinity's bridge, Admiral Arnet assessed every detail, his eyes darting from screen to screen as his troops descended in waves to the surface and the fleet organized itself in orbit.

"Cole," Arnet said over the command channel. "Defensive strategy in space. We need every possible minute to evacuate civilians."

Cole nodded, projecting his image in a hologram in front of Arnet. "Understood, Admiral. Fleet will move in dispersed formation to split Covenant fire lines. Containment strike complete."

In space, UNSC and Republic ships launched a coordinated assault to contain the Covenant fleet. Cole, from his command position, directed the Paris-class frigates and Autumn-class cruisers in maneuvers that allowed them to distribute the plasma strikes. Meanwhile, the Republic ships redoubled their attacks, their heavy cannons targeting the larger Covenant ships.

From the Infinity's bridge, Arnet coordinated the forces on the ground with surgical precision. "Initiate ODST insertions into the critical areas of Mos Eisley and the most vulnerable evacuation points," he ordered. "I want you to make sure you hold those positions until all civilians are safe."

Within minutes, orbital insertion pods rained down like a rain of fire, tearing through the atmosphere and landing in strategic positions. ODST units immediately scrambled out, securing the streets and preparing for engagement.

"Admiral," an officer on the ground reported, "the first waves of clones have arrived and are assisting on the perimeter. LAATs are providing air support and getting civilians out."

Arnet glanced at the ground display screen. "Perfect. Keep the troops in constant communication. This engagement is not just about containing, but about resisting at all costs."

On the surface of Tatooine, chaos was total. Covenant troops advanced relentlessly, attacking in large numbers, with their elites leading the charge. The clones, under the direction of Republic commanders, were joined in defensive lines, fighting alongside UNSC Marines on every street and every building. ODSTs took up strategic positions, providing covering fire as evacuation ships filled with civilians.

-x.X.x-

For Dreker, seeing the UNSC Orbital Stormtrooper (ODST) who rescued him was like witnessing a dream come true. All his life he had been treated like mere property, a worthless slave, but this ODST, without hesitation and without questions, had saved him. He didn't care that he was a slave; he simply did the right thing, and that was something Dreker had never experienced.

As they moved forward, Dreker stayed close to his savior, his steps hesitant, but determined to follow. He tried to speak to him, to express his gratitude, but the ODST was focused on the mission. Now, Dreker found himself surrounded by more soldiers from the same unit, all advancing in formation towards the spaceport. Every movement was precise, every glance vigilant, attentive to every corner and shadow in the streets filled with danger.

The sound of fighting was getting closer. Explosions rumbled in the distance, and plasma gunfire echoed endlessly. At every turn, the Covenant forces were met by small but effective defenses from the ODSTs and Republic clones, who fought together, forming defensive barriers at corners and on the roofs of buildings. The streets had become a mess of smoke, debris, and the glare of crossfire.

"Keep up the pace! Don't stop!" one of the ODSTs in the lead shouted, his voice steady in the midst of the battle. Dreker looked ahead, where the group was advancing rapidly, dodging the remains of buildings and destroyed ships. In the distance, the spaceport was getting closer, and despite the brutality of the fight, a spark of hope was beginning to ignite in him.

One of the ODSTs in the lead briefly turned to Dreker, giving him a quick glance before clapping him on the shoulder. "Stay with us; we'll get you to safety," the soldier assured in a firm tone.

Dreker nodded quickly, feeling a determination he had never experienced before. He stayed close to the group, not letting fear paralyze him. He knew this was his chance, the chance to finally escape a life of slavery.

The impact of a plasma shot cut through the air with a bright flash, melting the helmet of the ODST in front, who fell to the ground immediately. Dreker froze in place, his mind overwhelmed by fear and the brutality of the scene. It was the first time he had seen death up close. The smell of burning metal and the sound of the body falling to the ground shook him.

"Take cover, take cover!" the squad leader shouted, pushing Dreker behind a makeshift barrier as plasma shots rained down from the other end of the street. The ODSTs responded with precision. Each found a defensive position and began firing in a coordinated offensive. The street filled with flashes and smoke, and the sounds of combat blended into an echo of destruction.

As Dreker tried to regain his composure, he saw one of the ODSTs drag the body of his fallen comrade behind a barrier. "We leave no one behind!" the soldier growled, as the others covered his movement with bursts of fire. The ODSTs fired back with their assault rifles, forcing the Covenant to momentarily retreat. They used quick and lethal tactics: alternating between shooting, moving, and taking cover, as if every second counted for their survival.

"Get the grenade launcher out, Rodgers!" the squad leader ordered. Rodgers nodded, pulling the grenade launcher from his back and loading it within seconds. With impressive accuracy, he threw an explosive grenade towards the group of Grunts and Jackals crouching at the other end. The explosion echoed through the street, sending the enemies flying to pieces.

But there was no time for celebration. A group of Elites armed with energy swords advanced from a nearby alley, approaching with agility and deadly force. The ODSTs changed strategy, firing shorter, more accurate bursts as they slowly retreated to a better defensive position. "Hold the line, don't retreat!" the leader shouted, keeping morale high among his people.

The ODSTs in front began to throw smoke grenades, creating a curtain that made it difficult to see the enemy. Dreker coughed, his eyes burning, but the soldiers kept him close, not allowing him to fall behind. "Come on, keep with us. Keep moving!" one told him, pushing him forward. Despite his terror, Dreker felt a drive for survival keeping him moving forward.

The gunfire and explosions seemed endless. The ODSTs used every resource available, combining tactics of evasion, ambush, and direct attack to maintain the advantage. At one point, one of the ODSTs threw a grappling hook towards the wall of a nearby building, using it to scale and get a better view from above. From that position, he unleashed a series of accurate shots, taking out two Jackals that were attempting to flank them.

Eventually, the Covenant's flurry of gunfire grew less intense. The group of ODSTs cautiously advanced, using every cover to their advantage, not leaving a single gap untended. As they reached the end of the street, the few remaining Grunts and Elites began to retreat, leaving the area clear.

Dreker, shaking but more alive than ever, looked around. The ODSTs quickly regrouped and paid a small tribute to the fallen soldier before moving once more towards the spaceport.

Reaching the spaceports, Dreker looked around. It was a scene of controlled chaos: Republic clones, UNSC soldiers, and huddled civilians moved in every direction, but there was order amidst the confusion. Transport ships, both UNSC and Republic, landed and took off in rapid succession, ferrying civilians and wounded to safety. The screams, roaring engines, and distant gunfire created a cacophony that symbolized the desperate fight for survival.

One of the ODSTs looked at Dreker and, nodding, indicated one of the evacuation areas. "This is as far as we go, buddy," the soldier said without another word, before turning back to the fight. Dreker watched as the ODSTs sped away, their figures melting into the haze of smoke and fire of the warring city. They had saved him without expecting anything in return, without even asking his name. They had simply done the right thing.

Finally, Dreker was free. His master was nowhere to be seen, and everything that had tied him to Mos Eisley and his former life as a slave was now reduced to rubble and ash. But instead of feeling lost, for the first time he experienced a strange clarity. I knew what I wanted to do.

As he looked around, taking in the magnitude of the battle that was raging, he felt an impulse he could not ignore. He remembered the bravery and discipline of the ODSTs, their speed and determination. They were not Jedi, nor legendary warriors, but they still fought with fierce bravery. Without further hesitation, Dreker made his decision: he wanted to join the UNSC, to be one of those soldiers who fought for something bigger than themselves.

End of Chapter 26.