Chapter 2: Burden of Leadership
The engines of the Venator-class destroyer hummed softly, a constant rhythm beneath the chaos of preparations. We were headed toward Felucia, where another Separatist stronghold awaited. For the 191st, this wasn't new. After Geonosis, we'd been thrown from one battle to another—each one a test, each one a place to prove ourselves. But this was different for me. This was the first mission where I was officially in command of my squad.
I stood in the armory, adjusting the fit of my chest plate, trying not to think about how ill-prepared I felt. My brothers moved around me in silence, checking their weapons and armor. The routine helped calm us all. This wasn't the first time I'd led them, but it was the first time the weight of it felt so crushing.
I still saw Pax's face sometimes—staring up at the red sky of Geonosis, lifeless. The memory stayed with me, a reminder of how quickly everything could go wrong. How quickly I could lose them all.
Lucky broke the silence. "Sergeant," he said, tossing a grenade into his belt pouch, "What's the plan for this one?"
I didn't flinch at the title anymore. "Same as always," I said, keeping my voice steady. "Hit them hard, hit them fast. We're assigned to take out a communications tower deep in the jungle. Separatists are using it to coordinate their defenses across the sector. If we can cut that, we can disrupt their entire network."
He nodded, his helmet under his arm, but I could see the uncertainty in his eyes. I felt it too. Felucia wasn't going to be easy. Thick jungle, unpredictable terrain, and droids that were getting smarter with every battle. Our intel was thin, and the odds were against us.
But we were clones. The odds were always against us.
The dropship ride to Felucia was rough. Turbulence rattled us around, but that wasn't what was bothering me. It was the feeling of the planet itself. It was alive, pulsing with strange energy, the jungle below dense and hostile, like it was daring us to step into its domain. I hated it already.
"Touchdown in two," the pilot's voice crackled through the comms. "Stay sharp down there, boys."
I gave a quick nod to the others, and we rose to our feet, checking our weapons one last time. The landing was fast and violent—no time to ease into this one. The ramp lowered, and the heat hit us like a wall. Humid, stifling air filled my helmet as we stepped out onto the thick, alien ground.
"Form up!" I ordered, scanning the horizon for any sign of enemy activity. The jungle around us was vibrant, almost surreal in its colors, but there was no time to admire the scenery. The droid forces were somewhere out there, waiting. And the sooner we found them, the better.
The squad moved quickly, silently, through the dense foliage, the only sound coming from the soft crunch of our boots in the dirt. I kept my eyes forward, scanning the treeline ahead, but my mind was racing. Every decision, every move we made was now on me. The lives of these men—my brothers—depended on my ability to lead.
After about an hour of tense marching, we spotted it—the communications tower. It rose up from the jungle like a rusted spire, defended by a small army of battle droids. I motioned for the squad to take cover behind the thick, fungal trees, and we settled into position.
"All right," I said quietly over the squad comms, "We take them out fast, then we plant the charges. Keep it clean, no mistakes."
"Copy that," Lucky responded. "On your mark."
I took a deep breath, steadying myself. I had to be clear-headed, focused. This was it—my first real test as leader.
"Mark!"
We broke from cover, blasters firing in unison. The droids didn't stand a chance, cut down in waves as we pushed forward, our attack swift and precise. The Separatists had numbers, but we had speed. And we had each other.
But then, as we closed in on the tower, something went wrong. From behind a ridge came the whirring sound of B2 battle droids—heavily armed, more dangerous than their lighter counterparts. They opened fire, their blasters tearing through the jungle.
"Down!" I shouted, pulling Lucky to the ground as a bolt nearly clipped his head. "Flank them! We need to—"
A scream cut through the comms. It was Tread, the heavy gunner. One of the B2's shots had found its mark, and he went down, smoke rising from his armor.
"Tread's hit!" I yelled, crawling through the mud to his side. "Get him out of here!"
But when I reached him, I knew it was too late. The shot had gone straight through his chest. He was gone.
Something snapped inside me, a raw anger rising up from my gut. I grabbed my blaster, and without thinking, charged at the B2s, firing in a frenzy. I didn't care about strategy anymore—I just wanted to destroy them, to make them pay for what they'd done.
"Sergeant! Pull back!" Lucky's voice broke through the comms, but I barely heard him. I was too deep, too lost in the chaos.
Blaster bolts whizzed past me, but I didn't stop. I kept firing, my vision narrowing until all I saw were droids and destruction. Until there were no more.
When the smoke cleared, I stood in the wreckage of the droids, breathing hard, my hands shaking. The others were behind me, their faces unreadable beneath their helmets.
"We've lost Tread," Lucky said quietly.
I nodded, looking down at Tread's lifeless body. It felt like Geonosis all over again. Another brother lost under my watch.
But this time was different. This time, it was because of me. Because I'd lost control.
We completed the mission. The tower went down in flames, and the Separatist communications were cut. But the victory felt hollow. As we marched back through the jungle, Tread's death weighed on me. I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd failed him. That I wasn't cut out for this.
Leadership wasn't just about making the right calls. It was about keeping your head, staying calm when everything was falling apart. And I hadn't done that. I'd let anger and fear take over, and it had cost Tread his life.
As we boarded the gunship to leave Felucia, I looked at the remaining members of my squad. Lucky. Gear. Spark. They were counting on me to lead them. And I couldn't fail them again.
I wasn't sure what kind of leader I would become, but I knew one thing: I would have to be better. Stronger. For them.
Because if I wasn't, I'd lose them all. Just like I lost Tread.
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