Chapter 47

Sululluub Asteroid Field, Sullust System

Brema Sector

Chakdrukke was an Inexpugnable-class battleship. Shaped like a disc with a prominent ventral fin, she boasted three klicks from stern to bow, and three klicks from port to starboard beam; she had more the profile of a spin station than a starship. I’ve never heard of such a class before, which shouldn’t be surprising, as the galaxy was vast beyond imagination.

For a ship built four-thousand years ago, even more so. So it was just as impressive how well she was holding up, though it would be a miracle if there was still an original stiffener left in her. If nothing else, this ship was living proof of the ancient Republic’s shipbuilding prowess.

Just making my way to the bridge showed me enough of the ordeal Chakdrukke went through. The roar of angle grinders and welding torches filled the compartments and corridors as soldiers and droids made whatever repairs they could with the emergency patches they had on hand. It was the same scene throughout the entirety of Ventress’ command, but the fleet should find itself back in fighting order soon enough.

The Sululluub Field had enriched Sullust and the SoroSuub Corporation for thousands of years, and now it was enriching us. With Horgo Shive’s ‘2nd Strike Division dispatched to secure the myriad mining stations and repair yards littered throughout the belt, and Jorm’s ‘6th Auxiliary Division now processing a truly gratifying amount of pure metal, the 28th Mobile now had our workshops running round the clock to provide Ventress her desperately needed repair platings, spares, and expendable ordnance.

This was what the 28th Mobile was designed for, and Sululluub provided a good practice exercise to shakedown the process and work out any kinks before Operation Starlance begins.

Stepping onto Chakdrukke’s pilothouse was an experience, to say the least. Instead of a traditional pilothouse, Chakdrukke had three floors of transparisteel instead, with the central command deck–also made from transparisteel–being suspended by durasteel cables. On one hand, you got a 360-degree view of the void, on the other, I felt like it was in breach of several WSH protocols. As always, the utter genius of Republic starship design never ceases to stupefy.

Pointedly ignoring the endless, starry void beneath my feet lest I lose my sense of being, I marched straight up to Ventress and the cadre of officers surrounding her. There would always be something unnerving about being in the physical presence of a Sith, but with Vinoc at my side I finally had a Sith of my own. Distantly, I wondered how many more Force-sensitives had enlisted into the Separatist ranks at the behest of the Pantoran.

Vinoc once told me of the plight of the Service Corps Jedi, many of them opting to simply remain in Separatist space than return to a Republic that had forgotten about them, maybe even convinced by Dooku’s Raxus Address. Unfortunately, Dooku had hunted down many who hadn’t subscribed to the dark side. I once introduced the idea that Separatism and Jedi didn’t have to be mutually exclusive–that fighting for the Confederacy didn’t necessitate being one of Dooku’s Dark Acolytes.

I had to admit, it was a bit gratifying to see that General Tann had taken my word into account when enacting the Militia Act. One of the laws stated that any Force-sensitive, trained or otherwise, may enlist to the Armed Forces and be provided specialised training, or even opt to enrol in a federal military academy. It made Dooku’s Acolytes and even the Jedi Order much less exclusive, now that any Force-sensitive in the Confederacy had the opportunity to pursue their unique powers.

With Sev’rance Tann a war hero, and propaganda pieces of her and her golden lightsaber dime a dozen these days, there was really no better time to be Force-sensitive in the Confederacy. One thing for certain, the Supreme Commander was committed to providing her new military a fresh generation of Force-sensitive officers, considering her growing lack of frontline involvement.

And wasn’t that a thought? One day this nation may be led by precognitive generals and admirals, with a distinguished general staff of space wizards. Hopefully us mundane officers wouldn’t be made obsolete… but maybe I would be long dead by then. Sev’rance Tann, no matter how capable, was one person, and a national institution can’t be built in a day. Though if more Temple-bred Jedi defected to our side, bearing all the institutional knowledge that comes from an aeon-old religious order, that process might just be hastened some.

Back to Ventress–who definitely won’t be making me obsolete anytime soon.

“Bonteri,” she greeted.

I raised an eyebrow.

“Rear Admiral,” she tried again.

“Great,” I swept an eye over the bridge, before checking my chrono, “We will be engaging the enemy taskforce as soon as Operation Storm-Door commences… which may be sooner than I’d like.”

“The sooner the better!” Ventress snarled, “We have numerical superiority–we should seize it! Why must we languish around while Loyalist reinforcements could be on their way at this very moment!?”

Definitely won’t be, I reaffirmed.

“We follow orders, Commander. We have a duty,” Diedrich Greyshade reprimanded with all the disdain of a Columexi elite, “Dooku’s pawns are no longer in control of our nation. You can no longer do as you wish. If you are unable to serve the interests of the Confederacy, consider tendering your resignation.”

A side effect of the Militia Act was that all of the Dooku’s Acolytes, who had all been arbitrarily ranked as commanders by Dooku thus far, could no longer operate outside the cogs of the system. They were retroactively given commissions, salaries, and the actual authority afforded to their ranks. On the other hand, they now had superiors as well, and ‘commander’ was not a very high rank.

Ventress’ eyes flitted like a cornered cat’s, and Vinoc stepped forward.

“You’re a Jedi washout,” she hissed, “You think you have what it takes to defeat me?”

“You won’t find me so easy an opponent, Ventress,” Vinoc stated harshly, “Back down.”

“Do not make trouble in the Rear Admiral’s presence,” a flat voice said… flatly. It was a fair woman, dressed in a modest black coat with a face so stiff and eyes so lightless one could imagine it was a ultra-realistic droid faceplate, “I will not have disorder on my ship.”

I was unnerved enough, and apparently so was Ventress, considering she relented and backed down not a moment later.

“…Thank you, Commodore,” I pulled Vinoc back by the shoulder, “Let me be clear; we will be engaging Jedi General Alrix as soon as the go-ahead is issued. I must stress the severity of the task at hand; we must not allow Alrix to retreat. Our victory must be total and complete. This is a strategic necessity.”

“An ideal result, and one not too distant considering the undoubtedly deserved infamy of your forces, Admiral,” a Neimodian garbed in the colours of the Trade Federation spoke up, “But may I ask for an elaboration?”

I nodded understandingly, flicking out a hand, “Can someone please pull up a starmap of the Rimma on the holo?”

A nearby officer who had been doing his damndest to not listen in literally jumped in his own skin, before scrambling over his console and opening up a truly gargantuan starmap that spanned all three floors, enveloping the bridge in a flurry of blue stars and artificial lines. The Rimma Trade Route was like a tree trunk, spanning from the roof a level above us, to the level beneath our feet, visible through the transparisteel decks.

Vinoc whistled in appreciation.

“We are here,” I pointed at Sullust at my feet, “And General Ambigene is there.”

I pointed further down to Eriadu, floating in the middle of the floor beneath us.

“Our target is this,” my finger whipped through the air, and now I was pointed at a sparkling constellation above our heads–four major star systems located where the Rimma Trade Route, Corellian Trade Spine, and Harrin Trade Corridor intersected, “Yag’Dhul. Our objective is to establish forward defensive positions at Yag’Dhul, preventing anymore Republic troops from reinforcing the front while General Ambigene sweeps up the Rimma to our south.”

“If we allow Alrix to escape,” the Neimoidian understood, “She could hit us from behind when we reach Yag’Dhul.”

“Precisely,” appreciation bloomed in my chest when the projectionist shrunk down the holodisplay until the map was in a more manageable state, “The Republic’s Second Sector Army is already on its way. After securing Sullust, we will jump directly to Yag’Dhul. We will be behind enemy lines, but the Aux Division can sustain us until General Ambigene arrives. This is why it is paramount we do not leave any loose ends behind us.”

Of course, the real reason is that I didn’t want to risk the chance of an enemy fleet blocking our only vector of escape once we entered the Core Worlds, but Trench was adamant that Operation Starlance remained top secret until the moment arrived. Similarly, the reason why Yag’Dhul was chosen as our objective instead of, say, the forge world of Mechis III or bacta world of Thyferra was because Yag’Dhul sat directly on the confluence of two major hyperlanes, and gave us some much needed options.

Not to mention, the native Givin of Yag’Dhul were famous galaxy-wide for being expert astrogators due to their sheer natural mathematical abilities, and securing their help would go a long way to improving our chances of success.

“Thank you for that,” I said loudly, “Now please show us a chart of the star system.”

Right on cue, the holodisplay focused onto the star of Sullust, zooming in until the orbital lanes and bodies of the star system were close enough to be rendered in. A scanner ping went off, and fleet assets appeared, apparently based on visible drive cones and last known positions.

“Our order of battle will be as such–” I started, pausing until I was sure everybody was keeping up, “Chakdrukke, Dark Rival, and this fleet–which has been designated the Forty-Sixth Guard Fleet, will be stationed right here along with the Sixth Aux Division.”

Some of the officers moved to protest, but Diedrich Greyshade raised a palm to stop them, “Nobody doubts your devotion. You have already done well fending off the Republic, and making them bleed for every system they take. Both your ships, and your crews, are spent. Allow Captain Jorm and his auxiliaries to service your vessels their much needed repairs. We’ll take it from here.”

“At least allow those of us with battleworthy ships to fight!” the Neimoidian protested, “We spent the entire war running. This is our chance to return the favour! My crew may be spent, sir, but you will find no men more eager and ready to serve some pain to the Republic!”

I looked towards Vinoc, “What do you think?”

The fallen Jedi peered at the gathered officers with a critical eye, “It will be good for morale if nothing else. These people have only been running away until now.”

“Very well,” I crossed my arms, to the barely restrained rejoice of the officers, “Any still battleworthy ships and fighter squadrons can join us. Now, we will advance towards Sullust on a straight vector, forcing Alrix to leave the hyperlane egress as she comes around to face us.”

A red-scanned line spanned the distance between the Sululluub Field and Sullust, a tiny red annotation popped up automatically, stating 82,780,000 klicks.

“We will form our primary battleline here, fifty-five mil’ klicks out, two-thirds of the way across,” I pointed, “Commander Krett’s Fifth Support Division will be positioned three-million klicks behind us as a rear guard.”

“What strategy will we use?” Greyshade mused.

I looked at Ventress, “What strategy does Rees Alrix use?”

If anybody knew, it would be someone who had the most experience fighting her all this time, right?

Ventress glanced at the officers behind her, then back at me, “She doesn’t have any. She finds a hole in your formation, even if you do not see it yourself, and charges straight into it.”

“She’s a Jedi Knight,” Vinoc rolled his shoulders, eyebrows furrowing in concern, “The Force is a powerful ally in battle. If we show any weakness, she will find it. All formations come with their weaknesses, so which will we use?”

I rubbed my cheek, analysing the hundred or so ships of Taskforce Conciliator, before coming to a decision.

“We will use Battle Order Three,” I decided.

Diedrich startled in surprise, “But that has one of the most obvious weaknesses. It’s a standard formation; you don’t need to be a Siniteen to know how to counter it.”

“Exactly,” my lips stretched into a smile, “If we use a complicated formation, she might know our weakness before we do. But a standard formation…”

⁂

“Bow-and-quarter line,” Commodore Kendal Ozzel sniffed in disdain, “They must think us fools.”

Jedi General Rees Alrix stood upon the pilothouse of star cruiser Resilient, the former flagship of Admiral Wieler, as her own former flagship, Conciliator, had been boarded and scuttled at the Battle of Medth. Ozzel’s own Star Destroyer, Imperious, sailed close to portside, the Tector’s red-painted markings ablaze as Taskforce Conciliator crossed Sullust’s terminator line, a curtain of blazing solar radiation swept over the fleet–sunscreens automatically activated across viewports.

Her earth-brown robes trailed on the polished metal deck, covering the extensive plastoid armour that protected her body from neck to toe. Many Jedi Generals had adopted the distinct white body armour of their cloned troops, and General Alrix was no different, despite never having to fight a planetside battle yet. At their feet, the crews in the data pits worked with a furnaced intensity, determined to avenge the loss of their former commanding officer.

Kendal Ozzel reflected on the start of Operation Trident, at the chagrin that gripped the officer corps when Jedi Command assigned them some nameless, recently promoted Jedi Knight to be the Jedi General, as if mocking them. That displeasure only mounted when High Command made their low expectations of the coming campaign known by approving the assignment. The Separatist strongholds of the Rimma Trade Route were too powerful, too unbreakable to be captured.

The Rimma Campaign would never go far, High Command must have thought, so why invest resources that could go to the Perlemian?

Fools then smashed the greatest warfleet of the Republic on at Columex, all while their forgotten ships on the Rimma seized world after world, system after system with unparalleled success.

To their starboard, the lava rivers of Sullust’s volcanic crust weaved and meandered, as if following them as they orbited around to face the Separatist foe. As the dark side of Sullust retreated to their rear, the formation of the enemy fleet ahead became ever clearer to them.

“With all due respect, General,” Ozzel said, “This is why I recommended intercepting the enemy fleet when they arrived. We could have caught them in transit, while they were in disarray and unorganised.”

“Is Governor-General Teshik still coming to reinforce us?” the Jedi General inquired, keeping her gaze fixed on the menace before them.

“The Separatists have blockaded all spacelanes in and out of the Seswenna Sector,” Ozzel informed, “And now that they are advancing on all fronts, General Teshik has retreated to Eriadu to shore up its defences.”

“The end of Eriadu will be the end of our Eighteenth Sector Army,” General Alrix’s robes rustled as she approached the viewports.

“You will find me in agreement, General.”

The Separatists loomed, their flanks unfurling and expanding into an imaginary horizon of gleaming riding lights and battle-forged durasteel. It was a standard bow-and-quarter line, ranging on two lines–one directly parallel to them, and the other reaching forward in a portside echelon, or reversed chevron. Standard, but effective.

“How many ships are we counting?” the General asked after a brief pause.

Ozzel leaned over a datapit to watch the numbers crawl over an operator’s shoulder– “Two-hundred warships. This is not their full force.”

“I was informed over three-hundred instances extracted at the termination shock,” Alrix looked spun on a heel, looking down on him from a lifted chin. Something disdainful shone in her dark eyes, “Is that information still correct?”

Ozzel concealed his feelings behind a professional facade, “With the addition of Ventress’ ships, General, that number is now over four-hundred.”

“Half,” she mused, “And what is your opinion on this, Commodore?”

Ozzel set his shoulders straight, “The enemy commander must not be confident with Ventress’ ships. There is, however, no explanation for not bringing their full force against us. A bow-and-quarter line against a numerically inferior force like ours can only mean they are seeking a full encirclement, and the full destruction of our taskforce.”

Her eyes swirled with a murky haze, which Ozzel has come to connect with the Force her order of monks had a relationship with. He was not a deeply religious man, but even then there was something about it that didn’t quite sit well with him. It brought victory, however, as it did at Medth, and that alone was reason for him to tolerate mysticism in a place where data and logic should be held above all else.

Tolerate, not accept.

If only Jedi mysticism could have saved the fleet at Columex, hm?

“Or,” she turned back, “They are protecting something. Something that hinders them from presenting their full might. What have we identified from the enemy?”

Ozzel slowly nodded, “All these ships have been redeployed from the Perlemian Trade Route. I advise caution; we are facing veteran commanders and veteran crews. We have identified the flagships of numerous named commanders, many of whom have battled Jedi such as yourself before. Captain Krett saw action against Jedi Generals Tiplar and Tiplee at Ringo Vinda, and Commander Shive against Jedi General Skywalker at Vorzyd-Five. We also spotted the star frigate Repulse, the reported flagship of Rain Bonteri, who requires no introduction. The Separatists have sent their very best against us.”

“Bonteri… he was the one who fought Master Plo Koon and Saesee Tiin to a standstill at Metalorn, was he not?”

“He defeated General Kenobi and Skywalker at Christophsis as well, General.”

It was as if the Separatists have gathered every officer with a modicum of experience against Jedi Generals to face them. Ozzel was determined to not let this taskforce join the list of tallies the Perlemian Coalition’s infamous Armada have etched onto their painted hulls.

“…Then I inquire, Commodore,” she finally said, “Why would using this formation of theirs convince you that they think us fools? We know our opponent, and they must know theirs.”

“Because the bow-and-quarter line is a standard battle tactic, General,” he answered easily, “It is effective in the purpose for which it had been created, but like all effective tactics, it has been extensively studied. Weaknesses were identified, and counters are well-known and practised, so much so that counter-counters were created in turn, and so on.”

“That is fascinating,” Rees Alrix said, “And what are these weaknesses?”

Is this a test? Kendal Ozzel had to admit, he could not have expected such a… foolish question. Any officer cadet worth their uniform would know the ins and outs of what was one of the most researched and applied tactics in naval history.

And as if the Jedi had been reading his mind–and for all he knew, she might have–General Alrix glanced over shoulder with a thin smile.

“Indeed, Commodore, I do not know,” she professed, “In the Jedi ways, my Master Maks Leem had taught me well, but she had never been fond of warfare or even lightsaber combat herself. Is this not why I had called you upon my bridge, to seek your advice?”

If Resilient’s crew had been despirited by the confession, they did not show it. The ghost of Admiral Wieler seemed to linger over the pilothouse of his flagship. The discipline he wrought, the respect for authority he imbued, the diligence and professionalism he imparted. He may be gone, hunted down by that savage assassin Ventress, but a piece of him remained in each and every man and woman serving on his ship.

And perhaps, part of it was the steady confidence that Rees Alrix exuded, almost visibly warping the conditioned air. Her robes dragged against the deck as her plastoid boots clapped against the plating, and yet they remained as pristine as they ever have.

“The bow-and-quarter line’s greatest weakness is its lack of force concentration,” Ozzel explained, “The inverted chevron creates a killzone that we must avoid, forcing us to attack the parallel line, to which the flanking arm can then sweep around and envelop us from the rear. However, by trying to lengthen their front and envelop us, the line becomes thin enough that a concentrated forward assault on the parallel may allow us to break the line before the flanking arm can encircle us.”

General Alrix narrowed her eyes, “So shall we assault the parallel?”

If there was one thing Ozzel could appreciate about the Jedi, it is the prominence of simple forward assaults in their tactics. Offence was the best defence, as he always said, but even offensives must be sensible.

“The enemy will likely deploy their starfighters and conceal them behind their signatures,” he forecasted, “The moment we enter their firing envelopes, the starfighters will circle around one of the flanks and strike first, pinning us down until the arm can finish us off. The counter is simple; deploy our own starfighters in advance to engage theirs before intercepting the parallel.”

“…We will not be able to achieve a tactical victory here,” the Jedi General decided, or perhaps foresaw.

“General?”

“But we can still deprive the Separatists of the victory they are hoping for,” she continued, “Very well, Commodore; have our fleet prepare to intercept the enemy. I will provide the interception target. For now, craft a command package for a tight diamond. We will only tighten our ranks at close range in order to not telegraph our strategy.”

“Very good, General,” Kendal Ozzel grinned in eagerness, and appreciation, “When shall we deploy our starfighters?”

“Have all our combat patrols return to hangars,” General Alrix commanded, “We will only deploy them when we break their line.”

His smile died as quickly as it came, “General? Their Vultures will tear us apart before we even get close!”

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“You have made your input, Commodore,” Alrix barely paid him any heed, “Have that command package ready for execution on my command. Helmsman; all ships full forward.”

Resilient lurched beneath them, their only saving grace the inertial dampeners activating before they could be thrown off their feet. As if they hadn’t been listening at all, Ozzel could only watch as the crew obediently followed the Jedi General’s order with single-minded purpose, without protest. He swallowed, watching the enemy line swiftly respond, sublight drive signatures exploding onto the displays.

Kendal Ozzel was a hardcore proponent of the constant offensive, of which he was proud to proclaim. But there was a difference between that and suicide, of which General Alrix seemed to be committing now. He could see it in his mind’s eye already; the moment Taskforce Conciliator crosses the threshold into the enemy envelopes, a swarm of Vultures would emerge from the glaring drive cones and rip them to shreds.

They will be more capable of identifying light attack craft at close range, but that would mean nothing if they didn’t have any combat patrols in the black to intercept them.

But the Jedi have their own way of fighting. Alrix isn’t foolish. She must see something I don’t, and the crew trusts her judgement.

“What do you see, General?” Ozzel asked.

To that, Rees Alrix gave the answer; “A vulnerability.”

⁂

I checked my chrono.

Sometimes, the hours before battle were the most difficult. Knowing you have already gave all the necessary briefings, and made the necessary preparations, and left with nothing to do but wait. Knowing your life and the lives of thousands were on the line, and agonising over the fact that you couldn’t do anything more because you’ve already done everything you can.

It was the hours before a final exam, knowing you’ve studied and revised everything you needed to know and still wondering if you could know more, wondering if you were missing something.

It was that something that lingered like a spectre over your head. Most of the time it was your own mind playing funny tricks, because on a droid-crewed ship there was little chance of a weapons engineer cutting corners, a deck officer forgetting to do their necessary rounds, or a tactician failing to consider all the options. Not when those tasks were programmed, hardwired directly into artificial brains.

But that was one ship.

That something will always exist, and will never show itself until the critical moment you realise the something you need isn’t there.

Waiting for a battle to start was agonising. I was here. The enemy was there. And now I was waiting for an order coming in from thousands of parsecs away, one that might come in minutes, hours, days, or weeks.

So maybe I was a little thankful when the enemy decided to be less patient than I.

Drive cones bloomed into the tactical holo as Taskforce Conciliator surged ahead, wrenching themselves from Sullust’s gravity well and forcing a path straight towards us without any recognisable formation.

I stood up, “Status?”

“All ships report on standby,” Tuff said.

“All systems green and operating at acceptable parameters,” Kavia followed.

I tapped the comlink on the armrest, “Ventress, get your birds in the air. I’m giving you command of our Vultures.”

“Understood.”

I toggled the frequency, “All ships, Repulse; all ahead full. You have your orders. Check your bearing at all times. Don’t straggle.

“Repulse, Renown; roger roger.”

“Repulse, Kronprinz; understood.”

“Repulse, Crying Sun; got it.”

A hundred more affirmations poured in, and I quickly lost track of who was who. A quick look at the feed on the comms repeater got my head back in the game, however, as a cascade of check-ins poured down the callsigns.

Repulse rumbled, sublight drives igniting with fiery zeal. A series of thuds echoed through the hull as her Vulture wing dropped from her rafters, encircling the hull in close combat escort. To our portside, the ‘4th Battle Division swelled forth in line abreast, dreadnoughts and battleships pounding like the thunderhead of an approaching storm. To our starboard, the sleek Tionese battlecruisers of the ‘3rd Battle Division surged out ahead like unrestrained hounds, their speed unmatched by any in the Fleet.

At the same time, Ventress’ fanbladed Ginivex-class starfighter dropped out of a Sy Myrthian, followed by a whole–and perhaps, only remaining–wing of Rogue-class starfighters from Forty-Sixth Guards. Soon after, their droid counterparts followed in the form of Vultures, Hyenas and Scarabs, in a darkening cloud that remained well aft of the main line of battle.

The plan was simple. According to Ventress, Jedi General Alrix was the type to identify a weakpoint in her enemy’s formation before mercilessly exploiting it, over using complicated stratagems planned many moves in advance. In other words, like most Jedi she used her instincts. Therefore, we will have the most simple formation of all, with the most obvious weakpoint–because it was better to fight a Jedi with a deficiency we know and account for, rather than try to outwit the Force.

That being said, the weakness of the bow-and-quarter line was the fragility of its long line abreast. Near the inverted chevron, overlapping firing angles created an unassailable crossfire with every ship supporting the one adjacent to them, but on the line abreast that wasn’t possible. Which was why the purpose of the line abreast was to give ground, slowly retreating while the angled arm reached forward and flanked around, completing a three-way encirclement.

Alrix’s objective was most assuredly to shatter the line abreast before we can flank her, splitting our battleline in two and opening us to be defeated in detail–and this is where the starfighters come in. Starfighters can respond more promptly than warships, and can pin down the enemy until the flank could be executed fully.

The trick laid in disguising where the starfighters will come from, as the stratagem would all be for nought if the enemy could simply see where they will be hit from and deploy a screen in advance.

Right now, there was–I checked the tactical holo–near 50,000,000 klicks between our forces. At this range, the most effective scopes were for drive cones by far. Sublight engines were bright, hot, and spit copious amounts of radiation in every direction. They were basically unmissable. Furthermore, different classes of ships with different drive configurations produced different drive signatures, allowing us to effectively identify the make of enemy ships at the same time.

However, it was precisely because sublight drives were bright, hot, and spit radiation in every direction that we can hide smaller drive cones in their near proximity. Trying to find the tiny cones of LACs among a horde of battleships was like trying to identify if there was a candle or a hundred in a bonfire.

Unfortunately, droid starfighters weren’t all that smart. The manoeuvres will require timing and precision, of which Vulture droids may be unable to accomplish. They were good at swarming, overwhelming the enemy through sheer numbers, but this tactic required a little more finesse than that. Controlling the droids from the bridge of their motherships meant factoring in a response delay. A field commander was needed. Someone who could judge the ebb and flow of the battlefield from the ground and react appropriately.