Golm Approach, Both System
Bothan Space
One might think Sev’rance Tann to be aggressive and almost zealous in her approach to strategy, knowing her operational history, but Karoc had grown to know better. Sev’rance Tann was methodical and cautious–almost too cautious–and never willing to commit to any action unless she already knew the outcome. And when she did know the outcome, she would bet everything she had, resulting in her reputation.
Only 700 parsecs southeast of Bothawui was the site of her greatest victory, where she used herself as bait. And the Republic taskforce fell for it hook, line and sinker.
Karoc checked his chrono again. They’ve been staring down the combined Republic-Bothan fleet for five hours, and Sev’rance Tann hasn’t moved an inch from the captain’s chair, as still as a sculpture. Her glowing red eyes were closed, and Karoc could feel her searching for something through the Force. What exactly she was searching for, he did not know.
All he knew was that he had been standing next to her for almost eight hours now, and his legs were getting weak.
The reason they hadn't attacked yet was obvious; the enemy fleet had entrenched itself inside the asteroid rings of the gas giant Golm. There was 60,000 klicks of dense ice, rocks, asteroids, dust, and other stellar debris between them. No missile would be able to penetrate the cordon, and even Ascendant Sky’s particle shields would expire long before the dreadnought could reach the other side. But Karoc knew the Republic had ostensibly chosen this specific battlefield to deprive them of the Tann Railgun.
Sev’rance Tann blinked, her glowing red eyes revealing themselves for the first time in hours. She squinted at the enemy fleet through the forward viewport, as if she had only just realised they were supposed to be in a battle. If Karoc hadn’t been sunken in the Force as well, he could’ve believed the General had genuinely awoken from a nap.
“Numbers?” her voice was hoarse.
“Twenty-one Jedi cruisers, including Negotiator and Tranquility,” Karoc reported, “Thirty-three Arquitens and seventeen CR-Ninety corvettes. There are also six Bothan cruisers, and eleven Bothan frigates.”
“Mmh,” she hummed, “Can you sense any Jedi?”
Karoc reached out through the Force, but was barely powerful enough to reach through the vacuum of space. There was no point looking through the viewports–the distance was too great, and he could barely see the red paint jobs of the ships themselves through the planetary belt.
“No,” he answered, lying in spirit, “I couldn’t sense any.”
“Then this will be simple,” Tann said curtly, “Can you tell me the most efficient way to defeat them, Captain?”
The most efficient way to defeat them, Karoc repeated in his mind, spoken like the Republic’s defeat was all but assured. The question wasn’t how to defeat them, but how to do it with minimal effort and losses. Which means the General already had a plan, and simply wanted to test whether Karoc knew it as well.
Test. Karoc’s life until now has only been a series of tests, but this was the first time the test had nothing to do with the Force. I have to prove myself worthy. This time. I cannot fail again.
He observed the pitch again. With a portion of the Second Fleet enforcing a blockade around Bothawui, they now outnumbered the enemy two-to-one–but the asteroid belt negated that. While their capital ships may be able to bludgeon their way through the field, the expense of their particle shields would make them vulnerable to starfighter and missile attacks. Not to mention that their Diamond-class cruisers and Lupus-class frigates would never make it.
“We need to push them out of their position,” Karoc thought out loud, “We can circumnavigate the rings and strike from below…”
“And they will climb over the rings,” Tann replied, audibly bored, “We aren’t here to play games with the enemy, Captain.”
Karoc resisted the urge to shout in annoyance, feeling the Dark Side creep into the corners of his consciousness. He held it at arm's length.
“Our missile frigates are quick enough to make it,” Karoc tried again, “And attaching our point defence cruisers will protect them from enemy starfighters.”
Sev’rance Tann straightened slightly–which he took as a positive–glancing at her datapad and counting the pins, then at the tactical holo.
“That would work,” she demurred, “If the Second Fleet presented the total of our assets. However, if we detach our screens to protect our frigates, that would leave our capital ships vulnerable in their stead.”
“...We could recall our Lucrehulks and use their fighter wings–”
“From Bothawui? I want efficiency, Captain,” impatience coloured the General’s voice, “You must remember that battlefield tactics is an extension of greater strategy, Captain. Do not separate tactics from strategy–conflate them instead, and see the larger picture. What is possible here is a result of my decisions on Geonosis a week ago.”
“...Commander Merai,” Karoc said, “Where is Commander Merai?”
“Sublight transmission from Hoppawui,” the comms droid reported, “Corporate Alliance forces have entered the system. Forty-three ships.”
Hoppawui? That’s the edge of the system! Karoc scowled–the Both System was relatively dense, possessing eight planets and many more moons. A fleet the size of Commander Merai’s was too large to safely jump directly to Golm, and will be forced to extract on the edge of the system. If Tann considered pulling their battleships from Bothawui too inefficient, then waiting for an entire fleet to make it all the way from the termination shock was out of the question.
He caught Tann smirking in amusement from the corner of his eye.
“–Tell Commander Merai to get into position,” Karoc said in frustration, “And have him make it quick.”
“Uh, sir?” the droid looked up at him, “Commander Merai isn’t with the fleet. His XO is in command.”
“...What?” Karoc blurted out.
Was Merai killed in action at Kamino? Karoc frowned–that couldn’t be right… the Force pressed his mind, telling him something was amiss. There was something he was missing, he could feel it. Corporate Alliance fleet… forty-three ships–wait, only forty-three?
“Sir,” he asked the General, “How many ships were lost at Kamino?”
“Eight,” Tann bore a knowing look that told him he was on the right track.
“That means six ships are unaccounted for…” he mumbled, “Droid, what’s their flagship?”
The droid consulted his console, “Star destroyer Vanguard Flare.”
Commander Merai’s flagship should be the very same flagship of the Corporate Alliance armada, the dreadnought Prosperous.
“There you go,” Sev’rance Tann smiled, “Now what is the last asset you have missed?”
Karoc grew silent, combing over everything he knew. He checked the tactical holo, the gravitics, the astrogation computers, anything to jog his memory or give him a spark of inspiration. He even peered through the Force–even though the General never required it–to find something.
“Have I ever told you where I came from?” Tann’s voice dug into his spine.
“No, sir.”
“I come from the Unknown Regions,” she answered herself, “We call it the Chaos. Navigation computers are unreliable in the Chaos, because there are no permanent hyperlanes in deep space. Instead, we rely on Force-sensitive navigators, known as sky-walkers, to predict safe passages. I was one of them.”
Karoc kept quiet. There was an odd nostalgia in her voice that he dared not interrupt.
“We boldly went where nobody else dared go,” Sev’rance Tann said firmly, even pridefully, “Through the harshest reaches of the galaxy, or beyond it.”
His tablet buzzed; the sensor readings spiked, alarm lights blinking. Cronau spike.
A fleet jumped out of hyperspace directly above the enemy, exactly six ships strong. One-hundred and two pre-prepped torpedoes raced ahead of Corporate Alliance dreadnought Prosperous before it had even fully materialised, cradling its hull in a thick curtain of hash. Then followed by the shrieking of hundreds of droid starfighters. The torpedoes branched out like purple lightning, carpeting the topmost warships of the Republic fleet with their brutal ordnance.
Their impact times were synchronised perfectly, leaving no ship more time to react than the other, resulting in what seemed like a single massive explosion that gave Golm a new ring to boast of–one of doonium, durasteel, and cinder. The inferno screamed in every colour of the rainbow–a telltale sign of rhydonium-based fuel–and the subsequent shockwave drived every proximity sensor on Ascendant Sky to howl in alarm as a portion of the planetary belt was blasted out towards them.
To escape the intensifying barrage of laser fire and missiles, the remaining ships precipitously descended as hastily as possible, using the twisted wrecks of their comrades to shield them from above. Most importantly, they were descending beneath the asteroid belt.
“All ships,” Tann reverted back to a disinterested tone as she watched the carnage, “Descend two-thousand klicks. Maintain formation; reinforce forward shields.”
Karoc glanced at Sev’rance Tann in quiet awe; she hadn’t been searching for anything, she had been guiding the Alliance fleet through a hidden spacelane above the galactic plane. Was there even a single Jedi Master who could do such a thing? Maybe someone from the ExplorCorps? But were any of them even powerful enough to see beyond the galactic plane?
“The Rishi Maze is an interesting phenomenon,” she seemed to read his mind, “Not because it exists outside the galaxy, but because we know it is there, and have travelled to it. But we have not explored it, not truly, because nobody dares to. The Zareca String is the only known hyperlane between Lesser Space and the Rishi Maze–but that doesn’t mean there aren’t others.”
“...You found another?” he said in disbelief, “Just like that?”
“It exists for now,” Tann replied, “Maybe it will stay, maybe it will shift in a decade. It skirts the edge of the Intergalactic Void, so nothing can be known for certain. But if this spacelane didn’t exist, or will not exist, I will always be able to find another. Your orders, Captain?”
“Orders–” he caught himself, “All screens, forward positions–prepare to receive the enemy. All destroyers, activate tractor beam projectors and set to Railgun preset. Prepare to jettison proton torpedoes.”
The Tann Railgun, as its name suggests, was a battle tactic invented by Sev’rance Tann meant to overcome the deficiencies of their self-propelled warheads. Torpedoes were short range affairs, and at this range drive burnout will send even Ascendant Sky’s largest missiles ballistic–thus harmless–well over 55,000 klicks short of target.
The Tann Railgun compensated for that with extreme acceleration. You can’t shoot down a bird travelling at near-luminal speeds, after all. Superluminal too, relatively speaking, if the distance was great enough. Karoc still didn't quite understand how the gravitics worked.
Karoc’s gaze was drawn to the ship’s startled gravitics, which were dramatically warning of unsafe anomalies on both port and starboard flanks. The bridge was basked in the strobing lights of the display, which described the pulsating forcefield being cycled from aft to prow like a resonant wave. Dust and micrometeorites which had been blasted towards them were slingshotted back towards the planet as Ascendant Sky’s ten heavy beam projectors synchronised and intensified.
“All ships report synchronism, sir,” a droid reported.
“Jettison pilot torpedoes,” he commanded.
“Roger roger,” the droid tapped this console.
A single torpedo was ejected off the rear quarter of the dreadnought–half a heartbeat later, it was captured by the artificial gravitic wave and whipped towards the planet. A purple explosion 60,000 klicks away sent a Bothan cruiser reeling back into a Republic corvette, shattering like glass and perforating the warships behind them with secondary explosions.
Six more whips of light followed as the fleet’s other star destroyers tested their Railguns, gouging out a pound of flesh from the enemy.
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“All systems functioning as normal, sir,” the droid said, “All destroyers report systems operational. Proceed?”
Karoc nodded, “Commence firing.”
Ascendant Sky’s proton torpedoes were ejected in succession–each perfectly timed with the strobing gravitational wave to maximise active acceleration–and fired off towards the enemy fleet. Trapped between the Corporate Alliance and the Second Fleet, the battle–if it could be called that–was already over. All that was left was to watch the pyrotechnics.
But the Tann Railgun was not without deficiencies itself, Karoc had to remind himself lest he become reliant on the tactic’s awe-some power. For one, tractor beam projectors were extremely energy intensive, and powering all ten concurrently required almost all of Ascendant Sky’s weapon, shielding, and engine systems deactivated–leaving only the attitude thrusters to keep the ship-cum-catapult stable.
Second, it was also untenably difficult to aim. As the entire dreadnought now acted as a barrel, even the slightest attitude change could offset the projectile’s destination by orders of magnitude. Not to mention the projectile is launched forward in the attitude it is jettisoned–to rectify this, the Railgun usually required two destroyers abreast of each other, with one acting as propulsion and the other as a guiderail.
Still, the first shot will always be the most accurate. Triumphant could attest.
Not that it was necessary here. The Republic-Bothan fleet was so bunched up, they would be hard-pressed to miss. In conclusion, there were two minimum requirements; a dreadnought, and range. Because the enemy can press the attack while your warship’s power was still being fed to the tractor beam projectors, the battle was already lost.
“All ships check fire,” Sev’rance Tann suddenly said, “All power to sublight drives and forward batteries. Modified follow-up spread; clean the rest of them out. Prepare a boarding party; there is something on the Negotiator that I want.”
The reason to check fire was easy to see–the enemy’s vanguard now created a wall of wreckage shielding the surviving ships. The Corporate Alliance fleet had already broken off their vector and was now blazing around for a clear shot.
“This is a lesson, Captain, to always use every resource at your disposal,” Sev’rance Tann told him, “It is a simple and obvious concept, but difficult in practice. Any half-competent officer can win a battle, but a good officer must be able to win decisively. And that, Captain, is the ultimate culmination of the web you weave with strategy.”
“We could have defeated them at Manda all the same,” she continued, “But I made sure Bothawui would be the site of our battle, precisely because I knew they would choose Golm as the site to make their stand. It seems that in their haste to find a defensive position, the Republic had forgotten to secure a path of escape.”
The Iron Lance Fleet was bound by debris to front and top, and the planet to their rear. The planetary rings that once served as their fortress, have now become their cage. It was practically unheard of for a battle–no matter how disastrous–to result in the total annihilation of a fleet. There will always be a handful of ships able to make an emergency jump…
This would be the second time Sev’rance Tann left nothing but corpses in her wake.
“You will lead the assault on Kothlis, Captain,” she told him, “You will secure the planet for the Confederacy, and you will do it expediently. Commander Merai will take Moonus Mandel, and I will lead the invasion force of Bothawui. I intend on dealing with the Bothan Spynet personally.”
“Understood,” Karoc swallowed, “Sir.”
Ascendant Sky had drifted into the debris field, shields shrugging off asteroids and scrap metal alike. Jedi cruiser Negotiator was the only vessel remaining, trapped and surrounded by the Second Fleet, closing in like sharks around a carcass.
“Look,” the General declared in awfully controlled glee, “This is my definition of victory. This… this will make the Republic panic.”
⁂
The Wheel, Besh Gorgon System
Maldrood Sector
Repulse, Renown, and my new ship, Revenge were black swans among the luxury liners, space yachts and personal haulcrafts berthed around BDT-0978–an enormous space station shaped like a wheel. And who would’ve guessed it, the station was called the Wheel. A central cylindrical fuselage spun on its axis, with two massive spokes leading out to a circular promenade–from which just under a hundred docking piers extended, large enough to accommodate any size of ship.
The entire station was the size of a moon, directly orbiting around the star Besh Gorgon–supporting a permanent population of around 300,000 souls.
Hundreds–maybe thousands–of vessels were harboured around the station, moored at the innumerous buoys that afforded cheaper parking. Countless cutters and pinnaces shuttled to-and-fro the station, transporting all the people who wanted to enjoy the Wheel’s comforts and luxuries. The queue was perhaps even longer, stretching like a ring around Besh Gorgon.
I spotted every kind of ship, from vast passenger liners to freighters to official looking shuttles. There were probably all kinds of people here–merchants, self-important VIPs, seedy black market dealers… they all silently split before my star frigates without even a single call of complaint.
Because the Wheel was an independent entity in Separatist space. Technically, even Republic Navy ships cannot be attacked in this system due to the extreme autonomy the Wheel exercises. One might ask just how Cody Sunn-Childe–the station’s administrator–apparently avoids direct oversight, and the answer was with copious amounts of ‘taxes’ paid directly to the Confederate government. It didn’t hurt that Sunn-Childe was a Separatist himself.
All of this meant that Navy ships were extremely rare in Besh Gorgon. And when there were Navy ships in the system, you keep quiet and move aside, because it usually means somebody fucked up.
In other words, I get to skip the queue. Privileges.
And as expected, the Administrator Sunn-Childe was there to welcome me at the docking bay. He was a rather short fellow, with peachy skin, long elf-like ears, and a braided mop of white hair on top of his head–I couldn’t name his species.
“Captain…” his beady little eyes flickered towards my shoulder, “–Commodore! I had heard of your return to Raxus, but it is to my great shame I had not anticipated your presence here… what brings you to the Wheel? Nothing bad, I hope?”
So Sunn-Childe had agents on Raxus… no, on the Raxus Starbase. Not very surprising. He also hasn't heard of my promotion yet, which means he didn’t have his eye on me specifically. Also not surprising; I’m deployed down south, while he should be focused on interests closer to home.
The alien snuck a glance at the small army of battle droids marching down the ramps, a bead of sweat running down his temple. While his jowled face was deep set in forced calm, I could still make out the mild panic in his eyes. It was amusing, to say the least, to watch the capitalist–and richest man in this sector of space, as he owned the Wheel–suddenly realise he wasn’t the biggest fish in the pond anymore.
I silently inspected Sunn-Childe a bit longer, just to watch him squirm.
“No,” I gave a dead smile, “I hope not indeed. I don’t know if you have heard, but the usual patrols will be lifting. I’m just dropping by to make sure everything is in order, you understand.”
He has definitely heard. Hundreds of ships suddenly upped and gone is not something a savvy fellow like Sunn-Childe would miss.
The Administrator returned the smile, clasping his hands together nervously, “O–Of course, officer. The Wheel is yours to enjoy.”
His anxiety was well-founded. What should have been a loosened leash had unexpectedly turned into a chokehold. No doubt he had bribed many of the captains operating in the region to turn a blind eye to some of his more… questionable operations. I presented an unknown to him; a veteran officer from the most war-torn corner of the galaxy suddenly replacing the sinecure-holding nepotee pushovers he was familiar with. Sunn-Childe simply didn’t know if I was going to play the ‘game’ of these waters.
“I intend to,” I replied conversationally, “I hope you don’t mind me commandeering this docking bay.”
Like hell I was going to pay docking fees. Even the standard fees will rip a new hole in your wallet–at least ten times the going rate of similar stations.
“Ah… of course not,” Sunn-Childe calmed down, “If it pleases you, sir, I could have someone guide you around to see everything the Wheel has to offer.”
“That won’t be necessary, thank you…” I suddenly switched my tone to authoritative barking, making the alien flinch, “Taylor, get me a perimeter around the level! Clear the area, I don’t want anyone on the floor, understood!? After that, you may continue working on Renown.”
“Roger roger!” Taylor saluted as enthusiastically as a droid could, before heading off to coordinate the now-hundreds of droids marching into the station.
“Hare, Offee, come–” I gently grabbed Sunn-Childe’s shoulder and spun him around, forcing him to walk with me, “I have an appointment to make, Mister Administrator, and will be gone by tomorrow. Continue your duties well.”
He calmed down after that, understanding coming over his expression. An exhaustive sigh of relief nearly escaped his lips–but Sunn-Childe caught himself in time, choking down a breath and eyes skittishly darting to make sure I didn’t notice. His escort of Wheel Security personnel skittishly glanced at each other, but didn’t dare make a move. God, I’m such a fucking asshole.
Turning the corner and into the transport tube, I found an airflow car already waiting for me. I boarded it along with Hare, Barriss, and four super battle droids, inclining my head towards the Administrator as we sped off.
“Welcome aboard the Wheel, sir,” the car’s dashboard spoke, “I am Master-Com, the administrative control system of the station. You have been granted clearance to every level of the station; do you have a destination in mind?”
I briefly wondered if Master-Com remembered me from my last visit. Probably not; he had millions of people to handle, and I was dressed as a civilian the last time.
“I do indeed,” I said, “The Cosmo Lounge, please.”
Not the fanciest establishment, but about the upper end of middle range. Should’ve been beyond budget for newly commissioned officers, but we were in the mood to splurge, so we pooled our credits together to book a private room. Old times.
As I settled in, I noticed Barriss looking at me.
“What is it?”
“...Did you have to do that?” Barriss asked, before quickly tacking on– “Treating the Administrator like that, I mean.”
“Have you met many capitalists before, Offee?” I hummed.
“No?”
“I have,” Hare blinked, “They are annoying.”
“Well said,” I agreed, “When you get the chance–and by that I mean when you have power over them–don’t leave them with any false impressions. They’re self-serving, but that means they won’t try to do something stupid under your nose. I told him we’re leaving tomorrow, remember? He’ll keep the Wheel nice and tidy for today, then restart everything after we leave.”
“What good is that?” Barriss was even more confused.
“What good? It’s an understanding, Offee,” I explained, “He keeps it lowkey, and I won’t have anything to report. If I don’t have anything to report, I won’t have any paperwork to do. Simple as that. It’s preferable to getting bribed.”
She looked initially outraged, but then morphed into a more pensive face. I took that as progress. Master-Com was probably listening in, but Master-Com was equivalent to the station itself–so whatever. It’s after we step out of the airflow car that requires brevity; this place is crawling with both Separatist and Republic agents.
A few minutes later, we were at our stop. I told Master-Com ‘thank you’ as I exited the car, as did Hare. Barriss looked a bit confused at that, but her attention was swiftly consumed by the brilliant chaos of the Wheel. Aliens from every corner of Separatist space–and even Republic space, if you knew where to look–revelled in these neon-lit corridors, surrounded by the bustle of every storefront imaginable. You can find anything here, and I wasn’t kidding.
Sure, the premium clubs, casinos and hotels on the luxury level were the highlights of this place, but the Wheel’s special status meant its true value lay in what couldn’t be seen. Every third person we passed by was probably a slicer, infochant, or spy. Half the businesses on the station were more likely than not fronts for smuggling rings and black market brokers. One wrong turn down a dimly lit alley and you’ll end up in a sleazy gambling den. For fuck’s sake, there was a gladiator arena in the centre of the station.
Barriss swivelled her head around, wide eyed, “This is…”
“Scum and villainy,” I muttered, “Polite, dressed nice, and operating under a veneer of officiality. Everyone here’s a professional, because that’s a requirement if you want to pay the outrageous rental rates. Watch for pickpockets.”
Fair warning, in any other circumstance. The crowded concourse seemed awfully spacious as everybody gave us a wide berth. Despite the station’s… eccentricities, Wheel Security kept everything clean outwardly. Scuffles were unheard of, and the numerous gangs divvying up the plazas knew better than to cross Master-Com. My B2 battle droids were overkill in that regard.
“Patrol the floor,” I ordered my droids, “And Offee… take these credits and find some fun.”
She eyed me suspiciously as I dropped the cash into her hand, “Aren’t you afraid that I’ll escape?”
“I’ll be very impressed if you find a Republic agent,” I said softly, “And I’ll be even more impressed if you convince them not to kill you.”
“Why would they do that? I’m a–” Barriss caught herself.
“You’re a Mirialan, first of all,” I said, “Second, you’re wearing a Confederate uniform, and all of them have already seen you. Republic Intelligence aren’t Jedi, Offee, they don’t subscribe to compassion and–well–naivete. They’re going to drag you through a backdoor and put a slug in your head, because better to eliminate a security risk than take that chance. They’ll assume you’re leading me straight to them.”
And they’d be right, I added wordlessly, because you have three trackers in your body in three different places. I can hear everything you hear, and everything you say. Even if they do believe her, and take her in–unlikely as that was–I won’t be losing anything.
I checked her expression–it was blank. Must be a Jedi thing; at least I gave her something to chew on. For now, I had to instil into her the sense that the Republic is not completely white, then work off from there. Maybe the Confederate HoloNet will present a different point of view as well. Baby steps.
“We’ll meet at the bay later,” I told her, “If you get lost, just look for the nearest info kiosk and Master-Com will help you out. Let’s go, Hare.”
Let’s hope my standing order for the B2s to keep a strict eye on her sticks.
The Cosmo Lounge was a popular establishment on the Middle Ring–popular enough to warrant a bouncer, despite being a cantina. The reason was because the cantina was near the hangars, and not in the main hull. So most rich patrons on the Wheel only for a stopover gravitated towards the Lounge.
The bouncer–a beefy near-human–stopped me just outside the entrance. Admirably, he didn’t show an ounce of nervousness as he warily eyed my military overcoat.
“Sorry, sir. We’re full,” he smacked his lips, “...Do you have a reservation?”
“Trilm, I believe.”
He searched up the name on his tablet, eyes shining in relief when he found the name, “–Private Dining Two. Please follow me.”