Coruscant, Coruscant System
Corusca Sector
Scout thought she would finally be able to leave Coruscant and see the galaxy, but for weeks after her official apprenticeship began, the only she saw was more of Coruscant, swept along her Master’s wake. Albeit, she would admit, it was the things she had never seen before.
Instead, as she found herself shuttled back and forth between the Temple, the Senate Rotunda, the Senate Offices, and now the sprawling Centre for Military Operations, Scout realised that Master Skywalker wanted her to see how the war was run, before fighting it.
As the LAAT gunship-larties, as the clones affectionately called them-descended towards the military precinct, Scout caught an incredible view of the Coruscant Naval Yards. A sea of permacrete, and what must be scores of cruisers being serviced by colossal gantry cranes.
“See those red-and-yellow circles on all of them?” Master Skywalker came up behind her, “That’s the symbol of the Open Circle Armada. And those red tallies? There are five on each wing, for the Fifth Fleet.”
“They’re new,” Ahsoka noticed.
Scout had to squint, but she was right. The rest of the Open Circle Armada proudly bore their battle scars. Blackened armour plating, impact craters from torpedoes-she even spotted a deformed hangar door, from where it was melted to slag by a turbolaser before cooling back to solid. In comparison, the ships of the Fifth Fleet were all but gleaming in the afternoon sun.
Ahsoka always had the sharpest eyes out of all of them. Must be because she’s a Togruta.
Master Skywalker was quiet for a while, but finally said- “The Fifth had been brutalised, and these are the replacements. Admiral Yularen had pulled through for us, and hopefully these retrofits won’t go down as easily. That one over there is the Harbinger, our flagship. Padawan Tano, you will be serving on the ship beside it, the Vigilance.”
Scout had an unsettling impression-one unflaggingly built up over her brief tenure as Master Skywalker’s Padawan-that the war was far from going as well as the HoloNet would like them to believe. She peeked up at her Master, wondering whether it was all a test of her perception.
“I do hope you are right that the Negotiator has been lost, Anakin,” Master Kenobi’s voice was troubled, but not for a reason anybody expected.
“And why’s that?” Master Skywalker spun around.
The two Jedi shared an entire conversation in a look, leaving both Scout and Ahsoka mystified-doubly so after Master Skywalker adopted Master Kenobi’s pensiveness, mumbling something beneath his breath.
Ahsoka scuffled closer to her, whispering, “He said something about a stealth ship.”
“Shh!” Scout shushed her, “You’re gonna get us in trouble…”
The two Padawans glanced at their Jedi superiors, and for a brief moment Scout was relieved to know they hadn’t caught Ahsoka eavesdropping. As for they, Scout meant Master Skywalker, because while Scout had never seen her Master outwardly incensed before, her experience with Iron Hand Xan taught her that the coolest masters were usually the most terrifying when irate.
Master Kenobi caught them staring, and winked.
⁂
Orbit of Ringo Vinda, Ringo Vinda System
Eucer Sector
“Launching raid on Talcene,” Commander Trilm announced, partitioning a holographic window of the Talcene System.
Thirty-two sets of eyes fixed on the sixteen blue pins gliding into the system, breath abated like runners with one foot on the starting line, painfully waiting for the pistol to fire. Then, expectedly unexpected, the southwest quadrant of the system was drowned in glaring red pins extracting from digital hyperspace. The holochart was far too small for any sort of high resolution, so it looked more akin to a tide of blood sweeping in.
“Contact.”
Commander Trilm’s voice was startlingly calm. The metaphorical starting pistol had just fired. Blue markers were immediately mobilised all across the main star map, scrambling to their premeditated positions. Trilm’s raiding party scattered, not retreating, but closing the distance in order to identify as many enemy elements as possible. It meant sacrificing the squadron, but it was a calculated loss for much needed intelligence.
Data began pouring into our feeds. ARENA’s databanks held the most up to date intel on the Cerulean Spear Command in the region, and used it to simulate the enemy’s makeup. Its intel on the Blazing Claw, Steel Blade, and White Cuirass were more spotty, however, and that meant it had to fill in a lot of holes there. But it was the best we’ve got regardless.
“Fleet element destroyed,” ARENA’s voice was smooth.
“There goes my ships,” Trilm muttered, pulling up Salvara System’s holochart, “As planned, I will delay before retreating to Abhean.”
“My ships are in position,” Vinoc pointed at the floating dot that represented Ringo Vinda, “Pull them in and I will jump in behind them.”
“Indu San has fallen.”
“Blazing Claw- BCC forces coming in from Phindar,” Shive reported, “Havoc Squadron is holding at Vjun.”
“Hang in there; my ships are on the way,” Harsol pulled up a screen.
“Heads up, Bonteri. A CSC taskgroup is headed for Metalorn,” Trilm swore, “Faster than expected.”
“They’re trying to encircle Ringo Vinda,” Captain Jorm said, “CSC knows they need the logistics hub if they want to push further.”
“Where the hell are my battleships?” I demanded, “That’s… fifty, sixty ships!”
“My Class Two hyperdrives can’t make it in time,” Captain Krett stared intently at the star map, as if mentally willing his ships to move faster, “We expected CSC to split after taking Centares, not immediately after Salvara.”
“Salvara has fallen.”
“… Abort and head to Ringo Vinda,” I decided, “I’m going to commandeer all of Metalorn’s PSF ships and retreat.”
“You’re hanging the system out to dry.”
I shrugged helplessly. Not even two hours in, and we’ve lost a foundry world. It was the first difficult decision to make, but most certainly won’t be the last.
“What do you want me to do?” I asked, “We make a stand at Ringo Vinda, give CSC a right bloody nose, and abscond with all the ships there.”
“Casfield has fallen.”
“Gala has fallen.”
“Gromas has fallen.”
“Euceron has fallen.”
Right, that’s going to get old real quick.
⁂
Coruscant, Coruscant System
Corusca Sector
The Strategic Planning Amphitheatre, as its name suggests, was outright cavernous. Not the same way the Temple’s entrance hall was cavernous, filling any visitor with its grandeur and sublimity, but like a cave. Grey, muted, and grim. Solemn was the adjective to describe the atmosphere in the amphitheatre, filled with the hundreds of men and women of the Strategic Advisory Cell.
Not just the Cell, but officers from High Command and even some Governor-Generals from the Sector Commands. Scout spotted the uniforms of the Admiralty, and the robes of the Jedi, which they soon blended into. Scout had half-expected to appear out of place-dwarfish among the Masters-but there were a surprising number of Padawans in attendance as well. Maybe I didn’t ruin the chances of all the apprentices in the tournament, she thought hopefully.
But what told her this wasn’t just any old meeting, not like the dozens others Master Skywalker forced her to attend, was the presence of the Supreme Chancellor and his closest staff. A whisper in her ear made her realise this was a conference to decide the future of their entire war effort. Even Ahsoka subdued her excitable nature, taken by the mood. Whether her friend knew what was going on however, she didn’t know.
“Don’t make any trouble,” Master Skywalker warned.
“Come now, Anakin,” Master Kenobi said, “They can handle themselves-”
“It has been over a month!” an admiral announced, “And Toydaria has received no word of Admiral Wurtz’s whereabouts! We have no choice but to recognise that like the White Cuirass taskforce before it, the Iron Lance Fleet has been completely destroyed by General Sev’rance Tann!”
That’s Admiral Wullf Yularen, Scout thought. She recognised him because Master Skywalker made her memorise a list of names and faces of every relevant figure she was bound to meet sooner or later, on the precept that knowing who’s who was already halfway to making a name for herself in the circles. The other half, he said, was talking to the right people.
“That’s preposterous!” an army general protested, “Are you saying that out of hundreds of ships, not one reappeared in friendly territory!?”
Scout learned about this. Emergency jumps were commonly used to escape a souring battle. Most of the time it was done on the authority of individual captains, which meant they were far from orderly. Which meant that after any large fleet engagement, there would always be a handful of ships ‘washing up’ in nearby systems.
“I am afraid, ladies and gentlemen,” Armand Isarde, the Director of Republic Intelligence, presented himself, “That our Bothan allies have confirmed a large-scale battle in the Bothawui System. Our conclusion is that both Iron Lance and Bothan forces has been destroyed, and that Bothan worlds are now being subject to invasion.”
“-Then we must dispatch assistance immediately!” a balding man with a goatee boomed, “What message will we send to our allies if we fail to protect them in their time of need!? The Pantoran’s rampage must come to an end!”
“You’re a damn fool, Hauser!” Governor-General Byluir’s hologram shimmered as he roared, “It’s easy for you to say in Vogel, but you have no idea what’s going on! I’ll say; we’re extremely fortunate the Pantoran is satisfied with her pickings! If she decides to invade Coreward, there isn’t even a Thirteenth Army left to stop her!”
Because the Jedi lost most of it on Christophsis was left unsaid. But the implication hung in the air like a sword. General Byluir breathed heavily in the wake of his tirade, and though he didn’t spare the Jedi contingent even a look, there was no doubt in who he blamed for the defeat of the 13th Sector Army.
“So we leave the Bothans to the mercy of the Separatists!?” Governor-General Hauser snapped. If the two Generals weren’t attending as holograms, Scout imagined they might’ve come to blows.
“General Hauser, your worry is misplaced,” Master Windu mollified, with Governor-General Ravik of Red Tails Command beside him, “With Ryloth back in Republic hands, I will take the Ninety-First Corps and relieve our Bothan allies.”
“Underestimate General Tann, you should not,” Master Yoda advised, “In Bothan Space, something she seeks there is. Hm?”
“Is it not the Spynet?” General Ravik gestured, “Both General Kintaro and I have pledged a portion of our fleets for this effort. The Spynet must not fall into Separatist hands.”
“But the Spynet serves both our and their objectives,” an intelligence officer objected, “The Pantoran must know that. If she wanted the Spynet, all she had to do was negotiate with the Bothans!”
There was something to be said about the duplicitous nature of the Bothans, but the officer was correct. For an organisation as vast, resourceful, and nebulous as the Bothan Spynet, it was better not to rock the boat if the existing arrangements still worked.
“Sev’rance Tann is a blunt instrument,” Master Skywalker suddenly made his mind known, and Scout cringed under the attention laid on them, “Count Dooku only sends her where he needs something destroyed.”
“Anakin is right,” Master Kenobi stroked his beard, “Eliminating-or converting-the Spynet requires a scalpel, and Dooku sent a sledgehammer. Whatever she is after in Bothan Space, this isn’t it.”
Director Isard shared a look with one his aides, and then stood up, “Director Deminar’s Cryptanalysis Department appears to have intercepted a priority order sent from General Tann’s headquarters on Geonosis. This may shed some light on our problem.”
“Thank you, Director,” Ilko Deminar cleared his throat, tapping his comlink, “The Confederate Second Fleet is of vital interest to our intelligence efforts. Just before her counterattack at Christophsis, this message was relayed to Raxus Secundus through satellite transceivers in Bothan Space.”
“And we had access to the Bothan satellites?” Admiral Yularen asked.
“The Spynet deals with all sides,” Director Deminar smiled wanly, “For the right price, we were able to obtain and decrypt the message.”
A two storey high holo of the Separatist general was projected into the centre of the amphitheatre. Master Skywalker’s expression-as if it wasn’t already grim enough-dropped several temperatures closer to absolute zero. So that’s why they call her the Pantoran, Scout thought.
“This is General Sev’rance Tann requesting reinforcements from the Confederate First Fleet,” the recording announced to the wrong audience, “The operational situation in the south is dire, and the complete collapse of the front is imminent.”
⁂
Orbit of Ringo Vinda, Ringo Vinda System
Eucer Sector
“Ringo Vinda has fallen.”
“Regroup at coordinates six-five-two three-one, two-two-five niner-two. You better have our fuel ready, Jorm.”
“Copy that,” Trilm blew hair off her face, “We can’t let Sy Myrth fall. Not yet.”
“Copy,” Captain Jorm was multitasking half a dozen supply ships across the theatre, “Commander Shive, Havoc’s resupply is in the Chorios System.”
“Chorios- stang! Retreat to Columex immediately!” Horgo Shive wiped his forehead, “Harsol, we’ll stage an ambush over Quell. Vinoc, we need reinforcements!”
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
“Stygeon has fallen.”
“Wobani has fallen.”
“Understood,” Vinoc’s rapid reaction taskforce was being slung around the Foundry, “Bronze Serpent, I advise retreat to Anzat.”
“Received. Bonteri, Krett, do you have ships to spare?”
The Neimodian shook his head, “You’re going to get caught. I can’t risk my ships for this.”
“You kriffing insect-!”
“Take Messenger in Flames and Queen of Beauty,” I told him, “Pull back to Captain Krett’s support arc. Saleucami.”
“Roger,” the one-eyed captain shot me a thankful look that I didn’t quite notice.
I sent Lexington and Saratoga on a raid deep into now enemy territory, hounding their supply lines. For every lightyear they pushed further up the Perlemian, the more overburdened their logistics got. The only way we could slow them down further was with scorched earth, but the we had collectively decided razing allied infrastructure was detrimental to ourselves, considering our reinforcements had to use them too.
“Fleet element destroyed.”
Harsol swore like a sailor, fittingly, “Retreat to Columex, Shive. I’ll hold them at Vorzyd.”
“Rain…” Trilm shot me a dangerous look.
“Yeah. I know,” I grumbled, rubbing my eyes, “I know.”
If the Salin Front continued to cave in at its current pace, those of us struggling in the south were going to get cut off.
“I’m bringing my ships to Rhen Var,” Vinoc said loudly, “The rest of you should gather as many ships as possible in Lianna. As many as you can spare.”
“No!” an Aqualish commander scowled, “Every parsec counts! Retreating to Lianna now will be giving two-thousand parsecs to the enemy without a fight!”
My eyes flickered to the countdown, “He’s right. We’re losing too much ground. Krett, Aviso, reinforce Havoc Squadron at Columex. Does anybody in Thanium or Indrexu have ships to bring to Rhen Var?”
“We do,” a Quarren replied, gesturing to the cadre of officers around him, “But that would leave the Thanium Worlds undefended.”
“We need to stall the BCC for as long as possible,” Commander Trilm frowned, “We don’t have much of a choice.”
“Understood.”
“If it’s any consolation,” Aviso groaned, “The Republic definitely isn’t as effective as ARENA. We’re fighting a machine that can’t simulate morale, personality, or character. It runs its armies with pure calculus. If we survive this, then, well, I think it’s safe to say we’ll survive anything the Republic throws at us.”
The star map was alive, blazing. Countless pieces fluttered between the stars in a complex game no single man could comprehend. Organisational structure disintegrated as fleets and commands broke down into individual ships strewn across the sectors as we rushed to aid each other while maintaining the operational integrity of our own forces. Sparks filled the air-literally-as skirmishes and battles raged across the room.
“Isn’t there a saying,” Horgo Shive bemoaned, “That always making the best decision makes you predictable?”
“Good pfassking luck applying that to real life,” Vinoc let out a breath, “The best decision is only predictable when we know what the best decision is. You think you’re smarter than a supercomputer?”
“Anzat has fallen.”
“Aargonar has fallen.”
“Quell has fallen.”
“I don’t like its voice,” I scowled, “It’s smug aura mocks me.”
“Your brain is overheating, Bonteri.”
It was like watching a plague spread in real time as more and more of the holochart was infected by baleful red, ARENA’s relentless legions of digital ships always pressing the offensive. The fog of war made it worse-enemy elements flickered within the smoke like vengeful wraiths, and those that burst outwards were like bloodthirsty hounds. Sometimes, a daring officer would send a ship deep into enemy territory-revealing a great horde right before its destruction, leaving a ghostly spectre that both served as an ‘enemy fleet last seen here’ marker and as a tombstone.
A Siniteen officer suddenly collapsed like a sack of spuds, those around him instinctively darting away as his spectral form glitched and spasmed on the ground. Another person appeared in their hologram-likely an XO-shooting us an apologetic look before cutting the connection. Just like that, their ships on the star map winked out of existence, and there were 31 people left.
“His brain must’ve overheated too,” Rel Harsol joked, grabbing a plate of food from off-holo.
“Wouldn’t blame him,” Captain Krett mumbled, “It’s been twenty-six hours.”
Fuck, really? Maybe I should’ve set the time amplification to a greater value. I brushed my hair back as I felt a headache brewing.
⁂
Coruscant, Coruscant System
Corusca Sector
“-meet at Lannik. Over,” General Tann’s holographic stature froze in time.
For a moment there was complete and total silence, and then the commanding organ of the Grand Army reawoke in a swell of cacophonic horror as every man and woman with a badge pinned to their breast tried to make their opinions known.
“What are we doing!?” Admiral Coburn raised his voice over the clamour, “We must pull the Pantoran away from this Operation Sidestep immediately! I advise we have General Empatojayos Brand assault Bassadro at once! With the Twentieth Sector Army at Fondor’s doorstep, she will have no choice but to divert her attention!”
The unseen projectionist skillfully manipulated the vast star map to focus in on grid square L-13, where a splotch of red clearly delineated the Separatist Fondor enclave, which included much of the Tapani Sector, as well as Bassadro on the Shipwright’s Trace, and Mrisst. Governor-General Octavian Grant of the Tapani Oversector has been fighting a back-and-forth war on the Rimma Trade Spine ever since the war began, never quite able to get the upper hand due to Fondor’s obtuse resistance.
If the General was present and not personally leading his armies on the frontlines, Scout imagined he would’ve been the loudest voice in the amphitheatre, doubtlessly demanding more resources sent to his Emerald Banner Command.
“Bassadro has settled in for a siege,” a female Jedi attending by hologram pointed out, “A hasty assault will result in an undue number of civilian casualties!”
“With all respect, General Alrix-”
“Draw her attention away!? Are we so ineffectual!?” Colonel Gentis drew himself to his great stature, booming, “We must launch a renewed offensive on the Nanth’ri hyperlanes! Take Mimban, then Attahox, then Nanth’ri itself! General Laan Tik’s Two-Twenty-Fourth Division is already in position; we will cut her entire operation at the neck!”
The holoprojection pulled away from the Tapani Sector, soaring over to a slice of the Expansion Region defined by the Nanth’ri Trade Route and Outlander’s Route.
“You are shortsighted, Gentis!” another Governor-General scorned, “Director Isard, am I correct to say that there are no significant Separatist elements in the Foundry of the Confederacy?”
There was a brief pause as the attendance tried to understand his words. Scout’s own brow furrowed as sneakily produced her tablet, frantically tapping through her data files to identify the speaking officer. General Tanniel? Scout briefly snapped her head up to squint in the direction of the General, deciding the faces didn’t match. General Renau… no. General Therbon… that’s him!
Governor-General Therbon of the Cerulean Spear Command, CO of the Twelfth Sector Army. What was he thinking… no way.
“… You are correct, General Therbon,” Armand Isard nodded hesitantly, as if afraid of what may come next, “Our operatives in the Separatist homeworlds report that the defence of the Perlemian have been relegated to minor patrol elements and individual PSFs.”
A heartbeat passed-
“And you are too damn ambitious, Therbon!” Colonel Gentis barraged, “You won’t make a thousand parsecs past Salvara!”
“The Twelfth Sector Army won’t,” General Therbon corrected severely, “But if we pull together all our forces in the region; the Twelfth Sector Army, the Eleventh Sector Army, the Third Mid Rim Army, the Fourth Outer Rim Army… my staff tells me that we can make it to Raxus before the end of the year.”
For the first time since the conference began, the Supreme Chancellor spoke, “Far be it from me to weigh in on this matter to such a qualified gathering, but is there not a chance that this… opening… is a trap? It is far removed for someone the likes of General Tann to be so careless, no?”
Chancellor Palpatine likes to gesture a lot, Scout observed. He let his hands do half the talking, drawing absolute attention without fail. It made people listen to him. And personally, Scout agreed with him. It was a bit strange, not to mention General Therbon was more than likely simply using the opportunity to elevate his standing. However, the General of the Cerulean Spear Command wasn’t about to concede so easily.
“Chancellor, it is clear from Director Deminar’s presentation that the Pantoran has her hands tied,” General Therbon outstretched his arms, “My staff and I have reviewed the details; the Confederate First Fleet was mobilised in absolute secrecy. Not even Separatist officers knew their purpose. Isn’t it obvious then that Director Deminar’s miraculous finding has presented a brief window of opportunity to end this war decisively, in one single blow?”
A wave of agreement swept through the Force, powerful enough for Scout to feel. The crowd was being convinced, she realised, and even some Jedi were being swept into fervour as well.
“Director Isard,” a stiff, wiry officer asked simply, “Are you able to corroborate General Therbon’s claims?”
Director Isard tensed, almost looking at the Supreme Chancellor for guidance. The assembly seemed to collectively hold its breath.
“Who’s that?” Ahsoka nudged her.
“That, my dear Padawan, is General Kohl Seerdon,” Master Kenobi said lowly, “Commanding Officer of the Third Mid Rim Army. Remember his name and face, as we work closely with him.”
“He’s one of the most influential figures in these circles,” Master Skywalker added, “If he unites his camp with Therbon’s, the rest of the assembly will fall in line behind them.”
Scout shared a look with Ahsoka, letting her friend speak for both of them; “Is that good or bad, Master?”
“For us?” Master Skywalker crossed his arms, “Well, same as ever. Just know that if this operation gets approved, we’ll be fighting there.”
“Fits nicely within the Open Circle’s job description, doesn’t it?” Master Kenobi chuckled.
The Open Circle Fleet was the rapid reaction force of the Grand Army, placed under the jurisdiction of Jedi Command and thus commanded almost exclusively by Jedi Generals. Most elite clone formations were concentrated under the Open Circle’s banner, too. In that nature, divisions of the Open Circle Fleet can always be found wherever the fighting was heaviest.
I should write all of this down, Scout pulled out her tablet.
“We are,” Director Isard said with decisive finality, “It is our conclusion as well that General Tann is relying on secrecy to protect the Rimward Perlemian.”
General Seerdon leaned forward in his seat, curling his fists around each other, “Then I will pledge the a Steel Blade taskforce for this effort. I believe Admiral Kreuge and his Tector-class star destroyers will make a suitable vanguard.”
“The Tectors are still new and unproven!” General Therbon challenged, to the discernible ire of some, “Making them the vanguard is far too risky.”
Stop trying to steal my credit, Scout sensed the unsaid words in the Force. At the same time… those visibly bristling at Therbon’s statement must be the supporters of the Tector-class. Master Skywalker was right; even at a time like this, political friction was inevitable.
“My Tectors are purpose-built battleships, sir,” Admiral Kreuge-presumably-replied coolly, “An armoured spearhead is precisely what is needed to pierce the cordon at Salvara. The Victory Project is still in its trial phase, so unless Kuat is willing to donate a Mandator, my battleships are our best chance at pulling off your plan.”
The sudden intrigued air hanging over a gaggle of KDY delegates wasn’t missed by Scout’s inquisitive senses.
Chancellor Palpatine’s features furrowed in worry, “I worry we are getting ahead of ourselves. It is true that General Tann’s strategy warrants concern, but I am sure some of you can agree that this feels like an overreaction. Let us not forget our successes; we are still making good progress in the New Territories, and our victory at Eriadu threatens the entire Separatist effort on the Rimma Trade Route.”
“I must concur with the Chancellor,” a Jedi Master said, “We are overplaying our hand. The Separatist Alliance will view this-rightly-as an act of desperation. Concentrating all our forces on the Perlemian will leave our other fronts stretched thin, which the Separatists will assuredly exploit. We must seek a wiser course of action.”
The Chancellor nodded appreciatively, “As Master Ry-Gaul had put astutely, shouldn’t caution be the order of the day?”
It was another Governor-General who broke the deadlock, his holographic form shimmering as he pulled himself together, “General Kenobi, what do you think of this matter? You command the Open Circle, and no man nor woman in this assembly can doubt your credibility.”
Master Kenobi released an inaudible sigh as he rose, his half-armour casting an eye-catching form among the billowing robes of his peers, “I am inclined to agree with General Therbon, should Director Isard’s intelligence be corroborated. It is said, after all, that the best defence is a good offence.”
“Master Kenobi,” Master Ry-Gaul coaxed softly, but severely, “Surely you see the merits-”
“I do, Master,” Master Skywalker shot to his feet, and a shadow of irritation crossed Ry-Gaul’s dignified face, “And I see the merits of actually making a decision! Admiral Coburn suggests we distract the Pantoran by widening the Southern Theatre; Colonel Gentis recommends we strike at her directly; and General Therbon presents a plan to strike at the heart of the Separatist Alliance! Why not do all three at once!?”
Master Skywalker’s proclamation was met with stunned silence, punctuated by Master Kenobi shaking his head in exasperation. Scout shrunk into her seat as her Master exploited the quiet the press his point even further, his patience both visibly and audibly at an end.
“General Therbon’s stratagem is too ambitious, Master Ry-Gaul’s advice is too cautious; the problem is neither, but that we cannot put all our eggs in one basket!” he declared, “So put all three plans into motion, but with a more limited scope, and with an open mind for failure. Should any of the plans succeed, then we have accomplished our goal. If more than one does, then we have turned the tide against the Seps!”
The Hero With No Fear hammered his fist into his palm, enrapturing the whole assembly, “We keep up the pressure, and we break the back of the Separatists!”
⁂
Orbit of Ringo Vinda, Ringo Vinda System
Eucer Sector
“Felucia has fallen.”
Sixteen pairs of heads snapped around to a single point in an almost comical manner, stunned at the extremely important reserve system-due to its proximity to several hyperlanes-falling into enemy hands. A Blazing Claw taskforce tore its way through the supposedly unnavigable nebula known as the Roil, storming down the Ardan Cross and smashing straight into the Thanium Worlds, no more than fifteen-hundred parsecs from Raxus.
“I told you,” someone mumbled.
“Pull…” I hesitated, slowly choking out words as my mouth tried to keep up with my racing brain, “All fleets pull back to Lianna. Shive, Aviso, Krett, you’ll be our rearguard. I want a defensive perimeter from seven-oh-oh oh-niner, three-six-four niner to six-eight-two six, three-five-niner one. Harsol, how many defence platforms can you get us?”
Lianna. The gateway to the Tion Cluster. The system was the crossroads of five major hyperlanes-three of which the Republic must use to access Tion. There was the Coreward Perlemian, which CSC fleets were thrusting up from; and there was the Ardan Cross and Shaltin Tunnels, which were being used by the BCC to flank us. Everybody recognised that Lianna will be our final stand.
“Uh- four static weapons platforms I’ve tugged from Cronese worlds, and a few dozen laser and missile satellites I can string up around Lianna,” Harsol squinted at his screen, dark bags under his eyes visible, “If nothing else, they’ll give the Republic a real headache on the planetary assault.”
It’s been… forty hours since we started? Personally, I’ve not left this hellhole of a room, and have only peeked out the door whenever a service droid enters with grub. We’ve operated with an ad-hoc shift system, with each officer taking incremental two to three hour naps, but it wasn’t much. It was natural that nobody wanted to miss anything, out of fear of missing out. Thank God, the battle room was immediately attached to a bathroom. Whoever the interior designers were who anticipated this, bless their souls.
“Great. Jorm-”
“We’ve got fuel and tibanna for you,” an auxiliary officer said tiredly, “It’s a variety of stock, though. Engines might perform subpar.”
“Stang, it's the end of the line for us,” Trilm rubbed her face, “Inefficient drives are the last of our problems.”
Fleets were already gliding across the holochart. Nobody argued with my decision, to their credit, knowing that there was no point. We had agreed in advance that Lianna represented our best bet in this scenario, and had fortified the ecumenopolis world to hell and back, gathering every ship and defence platform we could in the single system.
“Mossak has fallen.”
“Columex has fallen.”
“Draukyze has fallen.”
The enemy advanced like an unrelenting horde from three fronts, world after world swallowed in its ravenous swarm. Commander Horgo Shive’s Havoc Squadron met them at Galidraan-
“Fleet element destroyed.”
“Galidraan has fallen.”
Shive slowly collapsed in his chair, wordlessly signalling that he was out of the game. And then Captain Aviso’s and Captain Krett’s defence-in-depth of the Arcan System.
“Fleet element destroyed.”
“Fleet element destroyed.”
“Fleet element destroyed.”
“Arcan has fallen.”
ARENA was still gloating even as the first skirmishes in the Lianna System began, her monotone voice prattling off system after system as if going down a shopping list. The skirmishes turned into isolated clashesas more and more Republic forward squadrons jumped into the system-until the first main fleets poured in through the breach.
Hundreds of ships from both sides flocked to reinforce the clashes, until each battle was so large they were indistinguishable from each other, morphing into a single colossal system-spanning engagement. The shine of sublight drives and blazing turbolasers created a maelstrom of colours that would make any epileptic person seizure, transforming the room into a veritable rave. Indeed- I noticed some of our more photosensitive comrades diverting their gazes.
Soon, the battle was so uncontrollable we simply stepped away and allowed the computer to do the work. Formations were non-existent, and if there were any, we couldn’t see them through the baffling mess of hulls and laserfire. We simply ordered our ships to never retreat, and closed our strained eyes for some frankly well-deserved rest while we waited out the battle.
I caught five hours of fleeting sleep before ARENA woke me up- “Fleet element destroyed.”
“Lianna has fallen.”
And that was that. There was not a single Separatist force in the Foundry beyond bookkeeping formations. Within hours, the Tion Cluster was in Republic hands.
“Raxus has fallen,” somehow, ARENA managed to declare it with a sense of finality.
“… So, how long did we last?” Captain Aviso croaked.
I squinted at my chrono, the numbers somehow dancing before my eyes- “Fifty-one hours. Nearly twenty-six days.”
A whole ten days short of our target. But I wasn’t too disappointed, having accomplished my primary goal of laying down a foundation for a coalition fleet. Knowing who’s who was important, and now I was pretty confident I now knew just that.
Calli Trilm was pragmatic, more than willing to sacrifice assets if there was a net gain. Aviso was a textbook academy-trained officer, and adept at his craft. Rel Harsol, despite his loud personality, was cautious with his ships. Krett, like most Neimodians, was a calculating defence specialist. Horgo Shive was the direct opposite, always preferring a blitzkrieg-like offence.
“Kriff,” Jorm said eloquently, the reserved captain having opened up over the period of our shared ordeal. His mastery of the Rimward spacelanes played no insignificant role in our defence.
“… It’s enough,” I remarked, “ARENA’s a supercomputer with perfect decision making and coordination. Should this event ever arise, all we have to do is emulate what we did here, and the enemy will collapse before we do.”
I ticked off another box in my mental checklist. Next, I had to make the attack actually happen, on my terms.