There was a hustle of activity throughout the camp as nearly every person who could wield a weapon began to make preparations. Word of the enemy force's arrival had spread throughout the survivors' camp and nearly everyone was willing to help out where needed. As Zekiel—who had assumed a leadership role in the coming battle—gave instruction where he could, the others sought to make sure what weapons and armor that were available were distributed.
Those who had combat experience were given priority but they were also expected to give the inexperienced ones a crash course in combat efficiency.
At the recommendation of Chen, Zekiel broke the large group of survivors up into smaller platoon-sized groups of roughly 50 people each. From there, they were broken down even further to smaller squad-sized groups. Each having a leader who was responsible for the well-being of their squad.
"This," explained Chen, "will ensure that those with the most experience have a leadership position and can provide guidance and confidence to those around them when the battle begins."
In the day that had passed since the invaders were discovered by the Maligi, numerous runners were sent out to recon the enemy's landing zone. Given the disadvantage the survivors were seemingly in, any and all information they could get on the enemy's strength, numbers and capabilities would prove vital.
After setting off in the early morning, one such runner returned just as the sun was setting. Panting due to the exertion of running nonstop, the human male came to a stop just in front of Zekiel.
"They continue to unload heavy weapons from their ship," said the runner. "Dozens of armored vehicles now line the valley as what I can only estimate were thousands of Trandoshans worked in preparation. I only spotted the one enemy ship."
"The enemy ship," inquired Zekiel. "Has it moved?"
"No," the runner sighed. "It hovers just over the landing zone preventing any sort of aerial attack. I guess they've heard the legends of the flying dragons of Atophis."
Others around them chuckled slightly but for Zekiel, there was no humor to be found in the situation.
"Was there anything else?"
The runner—still gathering his breath—answered.
"Well...there was one thing. But I don't know what to make of it."
Zekiel stood motionless as he waited for the runner to continue.
"While scouting, I spotted a figure in the distance. It was...not a living thing. It looked like a machine but moved like one of us."
Shayla's head tilted to the side.
"A machine?" she asked.
"I can only guess but yes, I believe so."
Zekiel spoke.
"Did it see you?"
"It...did, sir," replied the runner. "And then it...waived to me."
Turning, Shayla and Zekiel exchanged confused looks before turning back towards the runner.
"After a moment," the runner continued, "it vanished deep into the jungle. I attempted to follow it but wasn't able to do so. It appeared to be heading away from the enemy's camp so I do not believe it was aligned with them."
"Well if it wasn't an enemy," asked Zekiel, "then what the hell was it?"
"I do not know, sir. I've given all the information I have on what I saw."
Nodding, Shayla placed her hand on the runner's shoulder.
"You've done well. Get some rest and make what preparations you can."
Turning to leave, the runner joined the mass of people as the small crowd around them soon dispersed as well.
As both Shayla and Zekiel stood on the loading ramp of the Liberator, they looked out upon the sea of individuals who were scurrying about while making their final preparations.
"It's hard to believe," uttered Shayla. "I think we all knew this day would come but I guess I didn't want to believe it. It feels like we were just getting used to being free again."
Zekiel—standing silent as he looked on towards the survivors—was motionless. Although the furrowed brow and tense eyes gave the impression that the Zabrak was in deep thought as he gazed at the sea of activity surrounding them, there was another feeling rising within him.
"Shayla," he responded, the usual light-hearted tone in his voice nowhere to be found. "If there's one thing I've learned throughout my years, it's that comfort leads to complacency. I don't think we could have ever been truly ready for something like this but believe me when I tell you this: I've been waiting nearly my entire life for this battle."
Turning to Zekiel sharply, the confused look on Shayla's face took the place of her asking why.
"When they captured me and murdered my family and my people, I was defenseless. When they controlled me and used me to be the very terror which robbed me of my life, I was hopeless. Now, we get to take the fight directly to them. No rescue missions like we tried before on the command ship. Just war."
"Zekiel..."
"This is a battle I've wanted ever since I was freed. But when I look out at all these other people, I don't think they want the same thing."
Extending his hand towards the crowds walking about, Zekiel continued.
"Look at them, Shayla. They're scared. And they should be. Because if I'm perfectly honest with you, I don't think any of us are going to survive this fight."
A heavy sigh came Shayla; a grim realization of her very thoughts put into words by Zekiel.
Still, she continued.
"But we have to fight. Like you said, this battle will come to us one way or another."
"You and I know that, and they know it too," commented Zekiel. "But do they believe it? Will it be their belief in this freedom that keeps them fighting on the line once the battle begins? Or will it be a lack of reason and purpose that causes them to turn tail and flee?"
"The way I see it," added Shayla, "there's only one way to know for sure. You need to tell them. Everything. I think they all deserve to know what we're up against."
Turning towards Shayla, the serious tone in Zekiel remained as he nodded and took a few steps down the ramp.
"Everyone!"
The exclaimed sound of Zekiel's voice was initially drown out by the hustle of people going about their preparations.
"Everyone, please!"
At first, a few stopped and took notice of Zekiel. One by one, those who took notice stopped those around them and indicated towards their apparent leader. Once the entire camp had their eyes fixed on Zekiel, he began.
"It wasn't very long ago that we found ourselves as captives; slaves to the Destroyers. Ever since then, our lives have been a mix of fighting just to continue to breathe and confusion as to what will happen next.
"I want you to know that I see you all. I see your hearts and your minds because I too share the very same thoughts as you. You may be asking yourselves how we got to this point, how this will end and if any of you will survive the coming battle. You may even be asking yourselves why we just don't turn and flee.
"All of us—every single person—have had our lives destroyed by these monsters. When we were taken, we were but children; torn from the clutches of our mothers and fathers as the world around us burned to the ground.
"Yet, we remain. As you stand shoulder to shoulder with your fellow survivors, we remain as those who forged our own paths and fought tooth and nail together for our right to be free. In many ways, all of us here today are the only family some of us will ever have.
"Now, the enemy has returned and we once again find ourselves within the sights of a terror which seeks to destroy all that we've accomplished. They seek to tear down our freedom which was paid for with the high cost of blood. They seek to bring us back to our knees in submission; returning us to a life of clawing and scrapping about as slaves to these overlord savages.
"No more!"
The crowd began to cheer as Zekiel continued.
"Tomorrow, we make our stand. Even if it is to be our last, we will stand together and fight! Shoulder to shoulder, we stand united with not only our fellow species but from nearly every walk of life with those who have been liberated.
"Although many may be asking what there is to fight for, I say that one needs only to look inward to find the answer. For me, I fight for our future; For the generations who remain unspoken and for our future descendants who will live freely because of our actions. Fight not just for yourself but for the lives of each and every person around you."
"But before we go into battle, let me be clear with you all. What we face before us is a battle-hardened and determined enemy with superior firepower and greater numbers."
Zekiel took a deep breath before continuing.
"I can't promise you that any of us will make it out of this alive. But what I can promise you is this:
"Never again will we flee into the terror of the night. Never again will the grasp of oppression hold sway to our lives. We who stand here today would rather die on our feet than live on our knees. When we fight, we will make a thousand fight like ten thousand. And when we fight, let them see our faces, not our backs. For the first time, we take the fight to the enemy.
"To victory or death, we fight!"
The crowd erupted in cheers and applause. Standing stoically before the crowd, Zekiel was motionless as he observed. Watching as some before him embraced while others continued to cheer, he should've felt relieved to have given inspiration to those around him. Instead, an ominous sense of foreboding returned to the forefront of his mind.
As Shayla approached and placed her hand on Zekiel's shoulder, the latter was snapped from his daze.
"That seemed to have gotten their spirits up."
Zekiel—seemingly unconvinced that his words made more than a surface-level difference—held his stern and hardened expression.
"Let's just hope they remember it when it counts."
As the Zabrak turned back into the ship, Shayla stayed behind as she watched the survivors move with a renewed purpose.
Within herself, however, there was something else. There was a quiet reassurance within her now; a still but small voice which spoke confidently to her consciousness. The words—although seemingly spoken with conviction and insight—did little to comfort her as they echoed through her mind:
For better or for worse, this will all be over soon.