Chapter 2

Orbit of Christophsis, Christoph System

Savareen Sector

I reviewed my assets; twenty-three Munificent-class frigates, six Lucrehulk-class battleships, and a disabled Providence-class dreadnought. The greatest taskforce I have commanded yet, and I could already feel my bones trembling in excitement. The Jedi taskforce, on the other hand, had only four Venator-class destroyers–all of which are still in their carrier fits. God, this will be a cakewalk–if it weren’t for the evident presence of Jedi.

First things first; “Tell me something about Invincible, Tuff.”

“Command software is being relocated to the aft bridge, sir,” the droid said, “The ship will be operational within hours.”

“Biological signatures?”

“…A faint biological signature has been detected in the forward bridge.”

What? That old bugger Trench was still alive! I shouldn’t have underestimated that spider–if he survived total annihilation at Malastare, I should have expected that unkillable bug could do it again. Damn, it felt good. Now I can take all the glory for winning this battle, without the oppressive shadow of his death looming over all the paperwork and explaining that I was going to have to do.

Tuff, however, did not seem to share my enthusiasm.

“Well!?” I slammed my fist against the armrest, “Have you mounted a rescue effort!? Can spiders survive the vacuum of space?”

The tactical droid met my gaze unflinchingly, his white eyes digging into mine. It was difficult to stare into what was basically a pair of lightbulbs for so long, but I managed.

“…What is it?” I asked, confused.

“If Admiral Trench does not survive, I predict that you will be promoted in his place,” Tuff gestured, “I calculate that it will be more beneficial for him to die.”

I paused. He does have a point. Just like at Corvair, if I distinguished myself here when my commanding officer had just eaten bricks in the initial strike… that would definitely earn me some favours with the higher ups. Not to mention, I could spin this real well back on Raxus–I could imagine it; Captain Rain Bonteri, saving battle against certain defeat after death of infamous Admiral Trench.

It would go over well with Voe Atell’s faction in the Senate, and I could use Mina’s contacts to turn me into a war hero… but that was pushing it, Mina wasn’t terribly enthralled with my idea of joining the military in the first place. Even back on Onderon.

Besides…

“Ah, but Tuffy,” I stood up and jabbed his faceplate a couple times, “You need to see the bigger picture! The long-term benefits of keeping Trench alive. I like the way you think, yes, but I can achieve the same effect if I keep Trench indebted to me, understand?”

“I do not understand,” the droid said robotically.

“No, of course you don’t,” I shook my head, “Favours as a concept must be alien to a droid. But it is not to us sapients. A favour… can go a long way. Get some cutters out and tow the Invincible back to the rear, then transfer Trench to the medical facilities on a Lucrehulk.”

The droid held my order for a long moment–long enough that I was beginning to think something went wrong in his drives.

“…Yes, sir,” Tuffy finally said, before warbling away.

I think I must be rubbing off on him. I do prefer individualism in my droids, and have painstakingly manually defragmented those I deemed worthy of my trust to retain some personality models, but I place obedience just a rung higher on the ladder. Another memory defragmentation is probably in order.

Sitting back down, I located a B1 model with a yellow-painted head, “You there, the OOM. What’s your serial number?”

The droid spun around from his station, “I am OOM-two-two-zero-zero, sir.”

“I’ll call you…,” 2200… 22… I suppressed a smile, “I’ll call you Taylor. Alright Taylor, how many bridge shifts have you served?”

“Uh,” the B1 scratched his head, “Seven, sir.”

“A low number,” I observed, “I guess you were assigned here one… two refits ago?”

“Two, sir,” he confirmed.

“Then open up your memory banks, because I want you to learn how I like to wage battle,” I stiffened my voice, “Tuff should have already calculated us an approach vector. Now, I want to prepare my order of battle. Send all our available naval elements to my datapad.”

“Roger roger!” Taylor nodded enthusiastically, spinning right back round to his station.

I produced my tablet just as it received a data package. Opening it, a stream of military assets began flooding in, and I started navigating through the cards I had at my disposal. Invincible and the Lucrehulks will be left behind to maintain the blockade. Not only were they far too slow for what I had in mind, but I needed them as a last line of defence against any Republic vessel trying to give us the slip, including the space submarine still at large.

That means I have two dozen star frigates to mess around with. My personal Repulse Squadron will take the centre, as some of my most trusted droid captains commanded these ships, which included Renown and Resistance. I didn’t even have to look at their readouts to confirm all three ships were operating at over 90% efficiency. As a commander, I could be described as industrious in my efforts to keep my ships up to par–even if it entails bringing them in for refit thrice as many times as their compeers.

An unpleasant feeling began to stir in the pits of my stomach as I keyed in the other ships’ real-time readouts on my datapad, however. Right flank, Frigate 13–not even named, the poor thing–running at overall 63% efficiency. I checked–it was a loanship from the Trade Federation. Typical. The pitiful frigate probably hasn’t been scrubbed down since its launch day.

Admiral Trench knew it too, which is why he stationed her at the flanks of the blockade, along with the rest of her like. Too keep them out of the way.

“All vessels operating below seventy-percent efficiency aren’t assets,” I said aloud, “They are liabilities. They’d take an entire rotation to respond to orders, and we can’t have that. Group them together in Division Three, and bring them a hundred-thousand klicks in front of the blockade. Standard order… no– inverted bow-and-quarter line. They’ll be our reserve.”

“Roger roger.”

“How many ships do we have left, Taylor?”

“Uh– eleven ships, sir.”

Jesus Christ, over half the fleet is operating beneath acceptable limits. I chewed my fingertips, mulling over my strategy. I had this battle pretty much in the bag, until Separatist incompetence reared its ugly head and gave me a tight slap across the cheek. So now I had what– twelve ships left? A quick consultation with my datapad revealed I could count the number of them operating above 80% efficiency on one hand–not including Repulse Squadron, thankfully.

Fuck it, I can do with eight ships.

“Arrange the ships operating over eighty-percent into Division One,” I ordered, “And quarter them into four squadrons; Repulse, Renown, Resistance, and… Graceful Promising. Standard Battle Order Three, one-fifty-thousand klicks forward.”

My personal ships can act as linchpins for the main spine–I could only hope the Corporate Alliance’s Graceful Promising will live up to its name. Slowly, Repulse’s seven ion thrusters reared up and brought us forward into position. Along the entire blockade, Munificents were breaking the line and arranging themselves into formation.

“Group the remaining four in Division Two,” I scratched my cheek, “Put them on the flanks. They’ll keep the Republic cruisers right where I want them.”

“Roger roger.”

Tuff’s clanking caught my attention, the tactical droid rejoining us from his detour to communications.

“Admiral Trench has been relocated to Impounder,” he duly reported.

“Very well,” I leaned on my fist, “Familiarise yourself with our battle order. I want you to submit probabilities round the clock– and assume there is a Jedi General in command of the enemy.”

“Yes, sir.”

The command bridge was silent, save for the background hum of digital interfaces and repeaters that made Repulse what it was–a decorated star frigate in the CIS Navy. Most Munificents don’t survive past their fourth battle–if they even get there–but Repulse has seen twice that number. The bridge crew conducted its business with brisk, well-maintained efficiency–and with the touch of a button a nest of readouts and repeaters sprung up around me, feeding me a constant stream of relevant information.

A personal touch, unique to my ships. It made us all one machine.

Even without my word, green lights popped up on the system checks, and all the ships began calling in around Repulse’s flag. As soon as the final ship–Shadow Price–called in from her assigned station, I stood up.

“Alright folks,” I declared, “Let’s make this quick.”

⁂

Beyond the bridge’s main viewport, the Separatist blockade had advanced forward. Eight frigates were now positioned halfway between Leesis and Christophsis, presenting themselves as a clear barrier between them and their target.

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan reached for the holodisplay table in the Battle Operations Room, “Are you certain you disabled the enemy flagship? Because they’ve just broken the blockade and are coming right for us!”

Anakin’s projection stood atop the wide holodisplay table, the form of Senator Bail Organa right beside him. Even as he spoke, Obi-Wan could hear him trying to raise his voice over the background noise of blaster fire and explosions.

“I did!” Anakin shouted into his handheld projector, “I saw Trench blow up with my own eyes! He must have had contingencies–”

“Or a second-in-command,” Admiral Yularen entered the projection, “Do not underestimate him. He escaped death once, he could do it again. General Skywalker is right; I would not put it past Trench to have a number of backup plans.”

“This is worrying,” Obi-Wan mused, “Even when you were withdrawing, Anakin, Admiral Trench did not decide to pursue. It is odd that only after his death, that his fleet decide that they are now the attackers.”

“Whatever the case, General Kenobi,” Senator Organa pleaded, “We need your reinforcements on the ground. Thanks to General Skywalker and his supplies, we can hold out for a couple more rotations, but that is only delaying the inevitable.”

Cody shot him a glance. That was the problem. Not only did they have transports to protect, all of their cruisers were outfitted with ground troops, AT-TEs, artillery cannons, and other elements meant to reinforce planetside instead of their usual complement of starfighters–which served as a Venator’s main anti-ship assets. Obi-Wan had hoped to pierce the Separatist blockade, dispatch reinforcements, and retreat before their ships were too badly damaged.

Now, he doubted that was possible.

“I can get the stealth ship back up there and hit them from behind,” Anakin suggested, “It’ll take some pressure off you, and I can create an opening for you to slip through.”

“Don’t, Anakin,” Obi-Wan shook his head, “They will be expecting you, and being so rash will only draw more attention to the surface. I need you to help Senator Organa hold out for as long as possible while we break through the blockade.”

Anakin frowned, but accepted it nonetheless, “Yes, Master.”

With a toggle, the projection of the three men winked out and was replaced by an expansive view of their battlefield.

“With all due respect, General,” Cody started, “But we have neither the firepower or the positioning to break through the blockade. Whoever’s in control of the Seps now, they have us in a bind.”

Obi-Wan tugged at his beard. The Clone Commander was right; the Separatists had thrown quite the hydrospanner into their plans by splitting their fleet into three layers–with the battleships in the original blockade position, there were now two more lines of frigates between Leesis and Christophsis. And worryingly, there was also a squadron of four frigates stationed to their starboard, pinning his taskforce against the moon. Whoever the new enemy commander was, they had no intention of letting them retreat unscathed.

“We are going to need reinforcements from the Jedi Council,” he mused.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“I’ll patch a line,” the communications officer said.

“Should we fall back?” Cody asked, “We can use the moon to cover our flanks.”

Obi-Wan observed the holoprojection. Cody’s idea was to use Leesis as a shield, preventing them from being enveloped by the numerically superior enemy force, and endure until reinforcements arrive. It was a sound strategy, if they could be certain that reinforcements would arrive. Because if not, the strategy came with the side-effect of entrapping themselves.

Then, he noticed something. The Separatist vanguard was still pushing forward, even out of range of their flanking squadron.

“Why are they overextending themselves?” a sharp-eyed clone naval officer asked, “Their lines in the rear can’t support them this far out.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, “It is a bold move, abandoning their advantage of numbers like that. This is not the work of a droid.

“You think it’s a… gloryhound, sir?” Cody said.

“Eight frigates is a far more even match,” he said, “And if we triumph over them, the four trying to flank us will be wildly out of position.”

“We can defeat them in detail,” Cody nodded approvingly, seeing the plan, “I’ll prepare the men, sir.”

⁂

“We are intercepting subspace transmissions between the Republic fleet and planetside,” Tuff reported.

“Can you unscramble it?” I pinched my cheek.

“Tide of Progress has the facilities to do so,” Tuff said, “But it will take a long time. We should jam them instead.”