Chapter Text
Anakin wasn't sure if he could remember a campaign from any other time during the war where he and his men were under such heavy fire. The Seppies were firing like they didn't care about hitting anybody. They just wanted to make sure they were pinned down and couldn't organize their attack.
The campaign had started normally. They had received intel that there was activity on Zalibar that indicated that the Separatists might be looking to start some sort of mining operation or even a droid factory. It was a strange place for it. They hadn’t even opened the door to their drop ships before the air had seemed to get colder, which demonstrated the almost awe inspiring cold temperatures of the planet, given that they had just flown those same drop ships down from space. The terrain was made up of icy cliffs and structures that looked like giant waves, frozen in time. There was no distance even half the size of a Star Destroyer that wasn't broken up by a valley or a large spike of ice reaching up toward the unforgiving gray sky. There was no place to build a proper facility unless you dug into the walls, and the ice would shatter or sluice off in great sheets when you tried to dig into it. There didn’t seem to be any caves or crevices, only sloping walls and winding ravines. On top of all that, there had never been any sort of study that showed there might be resources on it that might make the planet a worthwhile location for a Separatist base. Anakin and Ahsoka had been dispatched along with the rest of the 501st to ferret out the Seppies and be done with it.
Upon landing, they had found two places that showed activity. They had decided to split their forces and attack both at once, so neither potential facility had the option to warn the other. Anakin would take the more heavily fortified one and Ahsoka would take the other. Anakin had been hesitant to send Ahsoka out on her own, and he’d made sure to send his more veteran men with her, while he took most of the newer recruits and Rex for his own portion of the mission, and he found himself glad for it, now.
He and his men were quickly getting overwhelmed. Every time a droid fell, it was replaced immediately by another one. The same appearance, same lack of understanding of the very concept of mercy, and, fortunately, same terrible aim. It wasn’t a matter of skill, as Anakin would say with pride that even the newest of his men was better than any droid. The problem was with their sheer numbers. With the amount of shots being fired at them, they were bound to hit eventually. Anakin was sweating even in the extreme cold as he tilted out of the way of a stray shot. It likely wouldn't have hit him, but he wasn't going to leave his men without a general just because he was too cocky to dodge.
"Sir, we're taking heavy losses, and we’re getting reports telling us there are sounds coming from the other direction. There’s the possibility that we might get surrounded. What are your orders?" Rex asked, firing at droids, communicating with the men, and watching Anakin's back all at the same time.
Anakin glanced around. They had stationed themselves in a ravine. They'd had little choice, as the planet seemed to be made entirely of them. It was too deep to fire blaster shots into, and their surveillance and scouting had shown a distinct lack of air support. They'd been dropped off some distance away, as attempting to land closer would have given away their surprise attack and landing the Resolute would have no doubt led to the land giving way from beneath it. In an attempt to make the most out of the terrain, they had stationed themselves at the base of a large ice wave, the tip of which had probably been weakened by the wind and toppled down, which meant they had a large, icy structure behind which they could take cover. When he had first seen it, he had blinked, stricken for a moment by the memory of hazily resurfacing in Geonosis the first time around, and seen his own arm lying on the ground, fingers outstretched as if reaching for something. The ice was shaped similarly, a long, roundish shape that hugged the ground and then curled up at the end, where the wind had eaten away at it. His arm had ached where he no longer had an arm at all. Then he’d shaken his head, thumped his right forearm against his upper thigh to remind himself that he wasn’t actually feeling anything there, and refocused. There was no time for such things. He’d directed the men to set up behind what he was referring to in his head as ‘the arm’ and then sent a few further along to make some noise and draw the attention of the facility, while a splinter group went down a different ravine that they’d determine was an alternate, smaller route to the facility, where they would then place charges and then retreat, so they could detonate them and cripple the place, where they would then sweep in after and gather potentially important intel.
Now, though, it was working against them. The number of droids that had come from the facility had outnumbered even the highest amount speculated at in their intel by several degrees. The ‘arm’ had held up well to the heat up blaster fire, but was now being slowly eradicated. There were pits in the surface and sections where holes had been melted clean through. Soon they were going to have to make the decision of whether they wanted to retreat or not. He’d directed some of the men to fire on some of the smaller ice structures a little farther back, hoping they would fall and provide them cover to retreat behind, but that was a temporary solution, and none had fallen as conveniently as ‘the arm.’ If they retreated behind them, his forces would have to split up behind multiple points of inadequate cover. But if they went into a full retreat without cover, there would be massive casualties. He’d be ordering his men to run and get shot in the back as they did. They didn’t deserve to die like that. And now odds were that they had more hostels approaching from the other side.
“Get some men to detonate the crevice our demolition team took. We can’t leave our backs exposed like that.”
“The team isn’t back yet, General.” There was no accusation in Rex’s voice, only grim reality.
“I know. Set the charges.”
“Yessir.” Rex turned to call over some men and give them their orders.
Anakin hated this. He was condemning a team of his men to die. He had led his men into a slaughter. Where had that intel come from? How was it so wrong? How could he have let this happen?
With a dry, creaking sound, their riddled cover sank in upon itself. Anakin immediately ordered his men to get behind their makeshift cover, deflecting as many blaster bolts as he could as they hurried to follow orders. There wouldn’t have been enough cover for all of them at the beginning of the fight, but their numbers had been rather brutally thinned. He dove behind cover himself as he saw the last of his men find safety, dragging along a few injured clones with the Force as he did so.
He grabbed an abandoned blaster, as his lightsaber wasn’t much help as a long range weapon. The Force blared a warning, and he yanked a clone down just in time to stop his head from getting shot off from behind. He realized suddenly that he hadn’t heard an explosion that would indicate the alternate route behind them had been closed off. He and some of his men turned to observe and help hold off the new droids that were approaching from behind them. He grimaced as he observed them. There weren't many. He hated to leave a job undone, but he couldn't keep sacrificing the life of his men for a hopeless campaign.
"Tell them to fall back. Take out those droids blocking our way and get back to the ships." Anakin ordered.
Rex brought his forearm up and immediately began issuing the retreat. They'd come back and just blow the whole facility, Anakin decided. His orders to preserve the facility so they could gather intel be damned. If the Senate wanted that information so badly, they could be the ones to die for it.
Anakin focused his attention on the endless wave of droids before him. He would hold as many back as he could to give his men more time to retreat. The ice structure might have fallen apart, but the ravine itself still worked as a bottleneck, and there were only so many angles the shots
could come at him from. He trusted his troops to have his back from the few droids that had made their way around to the other side.
He was just redirecting a shot straight into a droid's shoulder mechanism when an explosion went off behind him and he dropped into a defensive crouch. The air immediately filled with icy grit that burned his skin and that Anakin had to blink rapidly out of his eyes. He turned his head to get his bearings and try to figure out where the blast came from just in time to see the next one go off.
One of his men had gotten within a foot of one of the new droids, and instead of firing, it had detonated. Part of the side of the ravine burst into icy shards, almost obscuring the pink mist that his trooper became. It didn't stop the air from tasting like iron.
The droids themselves were the bombs. Suicide bombers. Could it be suicide if it was a droid? Now was not the time to contemplate the thin line between servors and sentience or ponder the etymology of the word suicide. No doubt, after several bad dreams and several drinks, he would approach Obi-Wan with the topic, and they could have a conversation about it that would go largely unremembered in the morning. If he survived to see Obi-Wan again. For now, he needed to focus. The droids were explosives. Suddenly, the three dozen that were blocking their way were much bigger obstacles.
"The droids are bombs!" he heard one trooper bellow.
"Sir," Rex said, voice steady due to his vocorder, but fingers tightening around his blaster, "what do we do? Continue to retreat or press forward?"
Move ahead and face a sea of droids. Pull back and enter a moving minefield. Forward or backwards? Death waited on either side. How much death? All or some? From which option? Better to die by bolt or blast?
"Pull back. Keep pulling back. There's too many for us to ever make it through going forward." Anakin commanded, not letting his turmoil and place in his voice.
Anakin pushed his way to the back, protecting the front line no longer the greatest need for his abilities. He got there just in time to pull one of his men out of the way of a blast with the force. Another wasn't so lucky. He had attempted to get close and then jump back, so the droid would self-destruct without damage to the men, but it had set off its charges too quickly, and he hadn't been able to get away in time. While he hadn't vaporized like his brother, the blast had cut clear through his chest plate and allowed Anakin a look at his shattered rib cage before the gap rapidly filled with blood. Nature abhors a vacuum. Watched as his men took steps forward, fired, and then skittered back. He watched some pick up rocks and sling them at the droids. It wasn't working. Some droids laid down cover as others advanced, evenly spaced, detonating when they got close enough.
"I need some men to go help keep the Seppies from advancing any more on our position," Anakin called out. Immediately, men began to make their way back to what had once been the front line. "The rest of you, lay down cover fire and pull back from the droids."
Almost instantly, there was a no-man's land between his men and the droids. The ground between them and the droids was turning pink with blood, but it was freezing almost instantly, meaning they weren’t losing any of the little bit of traction they had had. Good.
Anakin took a leap forward, swiped the very tip of his saber through the chestplate of the nearest droid, and then immediately used the force to propel himself as far out of reach as he could go without landing directly on top of his men. It was still barely enough. He closed his eyes against the spray of obliterated ice and felt the heat scorch and uncomfortable path up his shins. It almost felt good after the constant cold, before it turned into a twisted, confused pain. But he was alive. No sooner had he landed than he was leaping forward again.
The men seized on the openings he made. They managed to time it, so that they started rushing forwards as he leapt. By the time the blast cleared, they were pushing their way through to the other side and firing at the droids from behind. But the droids were refilling their ranks. Not as quickly as they were earlier, now that the realized he and his men had a strategy, but enough were creeping past to make completely clearing out this wall of droids unlikely.
Back and forth. Back and forth. Forwards and backwards. It was unsustainable. Anakin realized it from the second time he jumped. Sweat was dripping down Anakin's chest. His hair clung wetly to his forehead, the tips that weren’t being warmed by his body heat freezing, and lashing against his brows. His muscles screamed in protest. Some of the men were doing what he was doing, leaping at the droids and creating holes for their brothers. They didn't have the benefit of the force to help them clear out of the way fast enough. They were dying to give their brothers a chance, and something in Anakin withered every time he felt a flicker go out in the force.
He was just about to make another leap when a searing pain tore through his right calf. With a cry, Anakin dropped to the ground in an awkward crouch, the knee of his undamaged leg striking the ground and his injured leg curling awkwardly underneath him. Involuntarily, his mind flashed to a memory of sweat and heat and an electro whip striking his too skinny shoulders. He remembered the pain jolting through him and still holding on to the wires and spare parts in his arms. Weak, Skywalker. He told himself. You're getting soft. And they’re going to die for it.
His men, adjusted to the pace of his jumps, surged forward on instinct, realizing too late that their general had not made his jump. Anakin flinched as he felt several flickers go out at once. They'd trusted him completely. Now they were dead.
Sensing their moment, the droids started to advance again. With the help of one of his men, Anakin staggered to his feet. Well, foot. Below his right knee, his leg refused to respond to any commands. It might as well not be there. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was only his boot holding pieces of his leg in place. Either way, something vital had been struck. The droids were suddenly equally placed on all sides. They were well and truly trapped. Anakin saw that his men that had escaped this hellish circle were firing at the droid's backs. But there were too many. Even with men on the outside, they wouldn't break through.
"Go!" he shouted. "Meet up with the others! Call for reinforcements!"
Anakin knew the odds of any reinforcement reaching them was none at all. But they'd never retreat otherwise. Maybe, with a task, they'd actually manage to save themselves. Even if they'd hate themselves for it later.
The droids advanced further, and then their first line exploded. Then the next. Then the next. When Anakin had fallen, his men had swarmed him, and so he found himself in the most protected position in the middle of the pack. Am I going to have to watch them all die before it's my turn? He wondered to himself.
It wouldn't take much longer. His remaining men were thinning out. He was doing what he could. He was pulling his men closer with the Force, pushing the droids away, redirecting blaster bolts wherever he could. The ice, blood, and smoke in the air was making it hard to breathe. He staggered, and an arm latched around his waist. Looking up, his gaze caught on Rex's jaig eyes.
"Kriff. I was really hoping you'd made it out. It's not fair of us to leave her alone like this." Anakin murmured, blood loss and exhaustion causing his honest thoughts to escape.
Rex didn't say anything, and his helmet gave nothing away, but Anakin could feel his guilt and grief in his Force signature. Anakin turned his face away from his Captain and looked back towards the droids. All at once, the explosions stopped. Only a dozen or so of his men were left standing. There was a brief moment of almost silence. Heavy breathing, joint mechanisms whirring. Anakin watched the ice settling. It drifted leisurely to the ground, catching the light of the planet’s star. It was almost beautiful. He watched the shiny red smears and speckles that covered the armor of his remaining men. He watched and pretended that the water making its way down his face was sweat. That that's what was sticking his eyelashes together and blurring his vision. Waste of water, he thought to himself. But then, he didn't really need water where he was going.
The calm broke as the droids lifted their weapons as one. Anakin raised his lightsaber as his men raised their blasters. A bolt flew wide over his shoulder, and as one they all started shooting. Anakin depended on Rex to keep him upright as he returned the bolts he could and redirected the ones that he couldn't.
Suddenly, the Force screamed. Anakin's head whipped around to where it directed him to look. A droid had its blaster raised. It was like there was a sheet of glass separating Anakin from this moment, and he was just watching. He could see the glow of the bolt inside the blaster's barrel. He could see where it was going to find its home once it left the blaster. If he could just...
The glass shattered. Rex stumbled with a grunt as Anakin wedged his shoulder under his and shoved. The blaster bolt, previously aimed straight for Rex's chest, took Anakin in the flank. He dropped.
"General!" Rex yelled, composure breaking, and placed himself between Anakin and the rest of the world.
Anakin wheezed, vision going in and out, processing the world half with the Force and half with his other senses. Everything was muddled. Rex was crouching over him. Blaster bolts were flying and missing them completely. But they weren't missing the rest of his men. The last of them would no doubt be dead soon.
Last man standing, Anakin thought to himself, holding back a sound between a whimper and a giggle. It was a ugly, twisted version of what he had told himself when he had won a life-changing pod race. Last man standing. I win. I’m going to be free.
The droids advance on his and Rex's position. Anakin reaches out a fumbling hand and curls his fingers weakly around Rex's ankle. He doubts he even feels it through his armor. A droid raises his blaster so it's level with Rex's face. Rex doesn't flinch.
"Commander on deck!" a droid calls, and then comes the sound of all the droids lowering their weapons so that they can properly acknowledge their commanding officer.
Anakin's senses are fading in and out. Sometimes too dull, sometimes too strong. He doesn't know when his eyes closed, but he slits them open to try to take in this new development. A pair of boots stops in front of him. They are pristine, except for the thin layer of ice that has settled where the boot leather meets rubber.
"Why is General Skywalker injured?" a voice came from above him, oddly calm.
"Er, he took a shot aimed at the clone, sir."
There was a moment of quiet. Anakin tried desperately to stretch his senses, but everything was static. His vision had narrowed down to a pinpoint.
"Did he?," the voice says at last. "Interesting."
"We were just about to eliminate the remaining clones, Sir."
Rex's helmet is inscrutable, but Anakin can feel him flinch in the force.
"No. Don't. General Skywalker cares for him. That could be useful."
The boots come closer. A face dips down into Anakin's line of sight. His vision is fading by the second and he feels warm and nauseous. All he can make out are the eyes. Dark, with rectangular, horizontal pupils.
"Hello, General Skywalker. I've heard so much about you. We're going to get to know each other very well."