Bloodlust: Corruption/Chapter 2

"Are you sure, sir?" Ballo looked at Artel quizzically. "Are you sure the Council's here?"

Artel nodded. "Positive, Ballo. Now assemble the men. They'll try to leave at daybreak."

Ballo stood to attention and saluted. "Yes, sir." Lowering his arm, he donned his helmet and rushed to address the men.

"Lieutenant Kiar!" Artel called out across the mass of men.

One of the clone troopers, resplendent in his newly-issued burgundy armour, saluted. "Yes, sir?"

"I need you to contact Opa's attack force, and the one on the far side. Tell them that the attack is now, and that they should wait for my signal before assaulting the base. And contact the Akarak. Tell them to get into battle positions and to watch for ships leaving the planet. Tell them to send out a message to the major populated areas ordering them not to leave. If they see any ship without a guidance code, they are to shoot it down. Is that understood, Lieutenant?"

Kiar nodded. "Yes, sir. Right away."

Artel took his 'sabre from his belt and weighed it in his hands. He could feel the bloodlust rising in him now, but he desperately tried to stay focused and above it. The time on Balmorra when he'd lost control of himself had been an embarrassment. Thank goodness Opa had been there to take charge of the situation.

Kiar and a number of other clone troops were wrestling with the comms equipment, a cumbersome device right in the centre of the camp. Kiar looked up and shouted across at Artel. "Sir! Sir!"

Artel put his 'sabre away. "What is it, lieutenant?"

"We've sent the message! We're ready, sir!"

Ballo approached, silently as usual. "The men are all in position, sir, and are awaiting your orders."

Artel nodded slowly. The first rays of dawn were just breaking over the horizon and the red sunlight was streaming in through the trees, right in their faces. They were at a disadvantage; with the sun in their eyes, it would be harder to assault the base.

"Arrange the men in a typical battle formation, then wait for my command. I expect you to be at the front of the vanguard, understood?"

Ballo grinned, his teeth shining through his ragged mass of hair. "Yes, sir. Of course."

Ballo donned his helmet and strode away. His helmet was an ugly thing; it had a dark brown scar over one of the eyes and the side of it was painted like the scar on his head, though this time, again, in a deep burgundy. Still, it reminded Artel that they were, at heart, real humans, and not just the half-lives he'd feared they'd be.

All was silent as the men got into position. It had stopped raining, but the ground was wet and muddy, making it easy to slip. Artel put up a hand to shield the glare of the sun, then ignited his 'sabre. Holding it aloft, he bellowed and his men rushed forward.

The undergrowth was thick and slowed their progress considerably. Artel cut through some of the denser foliage with his 'sabre, but, more often than not, he was forced to duck beneath it or to completely go around. He lost his footing twice, grabbing onto the trees to keep himself from falling, but kept going onwards, towards their target.

The clearing that held their target was quite far into the ground, meaning that the path down to meet their enemy was downhill and very, very steep. Eventually, the cries of battle and bloodlust disappeared, but Artel remained convicted, his eyes fixed upon the horizon regardless of the bright red rays of the rising sun. This was his chance. He'd seen the Separatist Council in his Force vision, of that he had no doubt. He could bring them in, and be remembered as a hero for the whole Republic to see... and maybe, just maybe, then the Council would allow him and Opa to live and train in peace until this ghastly bloodbath was well and truly over.

Finally, they broke free of the trees and were on open, flat ground. The base, an enormous pyramid that disappeared into the wisps of low cloud hovering above them, cast a welcome shadow over their army of men that were like ants in comparison. It looked defenceless, and Artel and his men were filled with hope again. With blasters raised on high and shouts of war filling the air, the clone troops sprinted towards the pyramid while Artel stopped and put a hand to his head.

The Dark Side was there. He could feel it, in his mind... the Dark Side clouded everything. He took a fearful glance up at the pyramid, and he could feel it looking down at him, judging him as he and his pitiful band ran towards it.

"Sir? Sir? Are you alright?"

Artel looked up. His arms were stinging and his head felt sore. He found himself sprawled in the mud, his lightsaber half-buried just nearby. He looked up through bleary eyes and saw the masked face of a clone trooper looking down at him.

"Who... who are you? What's your ID number?"

"CT-1919, General. They call me Riso."

"And how long was I out for?"

"Just a couple of seconds, sir. I saw you fall over, and then I ran to your assistance." He felt out a gloved hand. "Do you need any help?"

Artel gladly took the proffered hand. "Thanks," he thanked him, pulling his 'sabre out of the dirt with the Force. He turned back to the pyramid, and suppressed a shudder.

"What is it, sir?"

"The Dark Side, Riso," Artel said softly. "The Dark Side is here." He turned away to face the clone trooper. "Has the battle begun yet?"

"No, sir. We're still advancing on their base."

"Then there's still time to use the cannons." He pulled the comlink from the chain around his neck and typed in the code he wanted.

"Do you still need my assistance, sir?" Riso asked. He sounded eager for battle.

"No, thank you, trooper. Go on and join the battle."

"Yes, sir. Right away." Riso sprinted off to join his clone brothers as Artel hung back. At last, the comlink started working.

"Kiar!" Artel smiled. "I need you to get cannon command. Tell them to fire at will. Destroy the base. And," he added, just before cutting off, "if they see a fleeing ship, tell them to focus their firepower on that. Take that down and we can bring this war to a swift end."

"Yes, sir!" Kiar, still at the camp with the comms software, obeyed immediately.

Artel ran forward to join his clone troops and was greeted by a blaze of cannon fire in the sky above him. The cannon blasts came from behind him, impacting on the base and cutting massive chunks out of the pyramid.

The battle began. The air came alive with red and blue flame as thousands of automated droid cannons, hidden in the pyramid itself, fired relentlessly at the small squad of the elite clone troops as they darted from lone tree to tree, crawled through the mud and sprinted across open ground, returning fire all the while.

Artel sheltered behind a tree that had all but been blown to smithereens by a cannon blast and took out the comlink. Calling Opa and the commander of the other battalion, Commander Adraan, he announced, "The time has come! Let's take this place by storm!"

He didn't wait for a reply; his answer came as he looked up at the ridge and saw hundreds, even thousands, of clone troops rush over the tip before vanishing into the trees below. They would join the battle in minutes, Artel knew.

The elite force set up a rough defensive perimeter at the base of the pyramid. Artel knelt behind a boulder, deflecting the occasional blaster bolt and coordinating the attack with Lieutenant Kiar and his communications team. All the while, he watched the sky, painted red-orange by the slowly rising sun, waiting for the shuttle which he knew would appear any moment.