Chapter 55

Yag’Dhul Approach, Yag’Dhul System

Harrin Sector

Suddenly appearing right in the middle of the Yag’Dhul Star System’s hyper-junction roused the sort of amused anger a parent who caught their child with a hand in the cookie jar could probably relate to. The Yag’Dhul System presided over the intersection of the two largest super-hyperroutes in the southern half of the galactic plane; the Rimma Trade Route and the Corellian Trade Spine. Because of this, the entire star system acted as a massive trade crossroads and bottleneck, and the Mathematocracy–the local Givin government–had become fabulously rich because of it, further bolstered by their well-regarded shipyard industry.

As such, as our some three-hundred warships took a minute to bleed ourselves of hyperspeed sickness, we immediately noticed the thousands of supply vessels surrounding us like deers caught in the headlights. From commandeered merchantmen to medical frigates, from fuel tankers and ordnance carriers to troop transports; a brilliant array of lights transiting on two virtual highways vivisecting the star system in an X-shape, and all completely freezing as they pointed their scanners at us.

Well, aren’t we in the spotlight, now? I thought amusedly as I observed the readouts shine brightly, flashing warnings of hostile scanning.

“Priority contact?” I inquired.

If my memory served me well, the Siege of Yag’Dhul was being overseen by a task force–a siege fleet–of the GAR 20th Armada. That would be the largest concentration of heavy warships in-system, with likely enough firepower to force a pitched battle against us.

Not a moment later, the answer blinked into existence on a glowing repeater, right next to the tiny digital marble representing Yag’Dhul. Bearing 044 degrees relative, mark 013. Range 151,100,000,000 klicks. At sublight travel, this distance… I did the mental arithmetic. That’s at least a 48 hour transit with a constant 1,000G acceleration–35 hours if the GAR decides to push their ships to 1,500G acceleration. They might micro-jump, but it was risky considering the heavy traffic in-system, and I did have my plans for that scenario as well.

“Tuff?”

“Yes, Admiral.”

“Calculate the most efficient vectors to partition our fleet on,” I stood up, my spine popping as I stretched like a cat, “I want to hit as many of those ships as we can before the Twentieth can reach us. Let’s keep our distance from Yag’Dhul, and irritate them to the Demon Moon and back.”

“As you command.”

Taking the conservative end, we have roughly a day and a half before the siege fleet reaches us, which meant a day and a half to run havoc throughout the star system. That figure, however, was for a one-end trip. If we approached Yag’Dhul while raiding–which was unavoidable, considering the virtual spacelanes–the intercept ETA would naturally shrink. Thus, we had to weigh our distance to the siege fleet and the most efficient raiding run, in order to make the most of our limited time.

Chimeratica assessed and reassessed the situation, dozens and then hundreds of curved red vector lines appearing and disappearing on the tactical holo as the navicomputers factored in orbital influences, cosmic astrography, and the hundreds of pinprick drive plumes burning hard away from us in a panic.

Five minutes in, the vectors blinked green. The display spelled it out clearly; even with the massive blindspot that was the dark side of the sun to contend with, there were still 2,710 hostile contacts detected. And with this plot; 500 to 800 possible strikes before interception by enemy warfleet.

“Wrap it up and transmit it to the fleet,” I said, “And get me on comms. Widebeam.”

“An announcement, sir?”

“Something like that.”

Tuff stared at me with a critical photoreceptor, then nodded, “Very well.”

I cleared my throat as I observed the progress of the command package’s transfer, a blinking light at my station notifying me that my voice was now being broadcasted on the open frequency. Elsewhere, the fire control repeater told me firing solutions had been successfully calculated for the nearest twenty-seven supply vessels in our target range.

“To all ships in the Yag’Dhul Star System,” I said calmly, “This is the star destroyer Chimeratica of the Confederate Navy. Be warned that you are currently sailing in restricted Confederate space. Shut down your main reactors and evacuate all crew members in escape pods immediately. I say again; shut down your main reactors and evacuate all crew members in escape pods immediately. This is your final warning.”

A loud chime drew my attention; transmission successful, followed by a cascade of green lights as the 28th Mobile Fleet acknowledged and accepted the orders.

“Sir,” Stelle informed me, “We are observing escape pods ejecting from the nearest contacts around us.”

“Good to see reasonable folk out there,” I smiled and nodded, toggling comms to internal fleet scramble, “All ships, execute orders. Godspeed.”

Chimeratica launched the raid by unleashing a hundred proton torpedoes, lashing out into the abyss and striking all twenty-seven supply vessels in her scopes. The message was then abundantly clear, to both allies and enemies.

27 down. 2,710 left to go. A hundredth of the way there.

Over three-hundred warships exploded outwards from the extraction zone, the first missiles and torpedoes already being flung out towards starward shadows in clusters of violent blue and purple. Our lessons learnt, and the ‘6th Auxiliary Division kept safe in an uninhabited star system nearby, our combat divisions could not enact independent and unrestrained warfare without anything holding us back.

The 28th Mobile immediately split into over half a hundred squadrons of pairs and triplets, smaller raiders and hunter-killers swiftly outpacing the capital ships. The few Republic ships with self-defence armaments rattled out laserfire and blistering PDC rounds, but stood little chance against the furious hail of missiles bombarding their convoy lines. On the tactical holo, the golden lights emanating from the spacelanes began to black out, like an urban highway following an electrical blackout.

“Have the First Recon Division precision jump here and here,” I pointed at two sides of the sun, at the northern egress points of the Rimma and Corellian hyperlanes respectively, “And alert us immediately if any enemy reinforcements arrive. Chimeratica, Centaur, and Unicorn and the Intelligence Division will maintain position right here in between the southern egresses.”

Connecting the three points created an equilateral triangle that presided over the entire star system, mostly eliminating any blindspots formed by the dark side of planets or the sun itself.

“And tell the Mistryl to remain on standby,” I continued, “Keep an eye on Dark Rival. If Ventress is going to make a move, it’s going to be here.”

Or rather, I was forcing her to make a move here. By splitting up the fleet into a raiding stance, this was the largest opening she had to escape to the Llon Nebula without being intercepted by my fleet. Furthermore, I had purposefully assigned her to the western quadrant of the system, closest to the outer system where she would point directly at the Llon Nebula without something pesky like the star in her way. All that’s left is to wait whether she actually would.

“As you command.”

The hours ran by quickly as I watched the number of confirmed kills tick upwards, breaking into six-hundred by twenty-five standard hours. We had prepared our raiding strategy long in advance. First, our light-footed raiders like Munificents and Recusants would precision jump ahead and cut into the spacelanes at certain points, while the slower battleships would sweep up from behind and tighten the noose.

Essentially, a microcosm of what the CAF was attempting to do on the Rimma Trade Route as a whole.

Meanwhile, as our Recon Division skirted the edges of the Yag’Dhul AO with a series of micro-jumps on the way to their assigned stations, a more accurate make-up of the enemy fleet started trickling back upstream to Chimeratica. The besieging force had a little over four-hundred ships, but the vast majority of them were naturally Acclamator-class troop transports, considering their mission, and unlikely able to stand toe-to-toe with an actual warfleet like the 28th Mobile.

What mattered, however, was how the enemy commander decided to react to our asymmetrical warfare. See, four-hundred ships was still four-hundred ships, and after our lengthy campaign at Sullust, preserving the firepower of the 28th Mobile was now a top priority of mine. As such, I wanted the siege fleet to make a certain mistake.

See, by splitting our fleet as such, the siege fleet was also put into a tough position, forced to either mirror our actions and split up to hunt us down, or cold-bloodedly maintain the Siege of Yag’Dhul, and silently observe their supply lines get shattered. If they decide to counter-raid us, our hunter-killers can viciously tear them down piece by piece. After all, Acclamators were not purpose-built warships, and even a Munificent can rip them apart lonesome.

But as the twenty-fifth hour went by, it was clear to me the enemy commander had made his decision. The siege fleet was not moving an inch from the Yag’Dhul orbital zone. Meanwhile, the surviving supply vessels that haven’t already broken out into the outer planets were all gravitating to the last safe harbour remaining in the system; the Siege of Yag’Dhul itself. That was the first sign that not everything was as it should be.

I frowned, watching their movements with a calculating eye. Those weren’t actions symptomatic of a panicking, headless series of convoys. Instead, I felt like I was watching a pre-planned evacuation of ships. It was then that the Yag’Dhul siege fleet formed battle lines, arrayed out like a net to cover the arriving supply ships, and my jaw finally set. Practised. This was practised.

“What’s the name of the enemy commander?” I asked with deathly calm.

“Unknown,” Tuff answered, “The Twentieth Sector Army hasn’t made any large and visible efforts on the frontlines, relegated to sieges in the Inner Rim and Colonies such as this. Their commanding officer is Governor-General Octavian Grant, but information about the Twentieth is sparse otherwise.”

No well-renowned officer? I have a bad feeling about this.

“…Widebeam to the fleet,” I said suddenly, “Belay the last order. All ships are to advance on Yag’Dhul and break the siege. Helm; sublight drives set all-ahead full!”

Chimeratica blasted forward like a bullet, just as the disparate 28th Mobile all turned their guns towards Yag’Dhul simultaneously, chasing down the converging supply ships as they did.

My heartbeat quickened as I noticed more and more inconsistencies, now that I had clutched on to the frayed thread; “How long does it take for a fleet from Mechis to reach Yag’Dhul?”

“Approximately twelve standard hours.”

“So why aren’t they here?”

Yag’Dhul must be glowing with distress signals, and not even our Intelligence Division could intercept all of them. The loss of this supply corridor could mean the defeat of the entire 2nd Sector Army down south at the hands of Horn Ambigene. If I was at Mechis-III, less than a day’s transit away, I would have dashed to secure the system immediately. Either inter-army rivalries within the GAR ran deeper than I had thought, or everything I was witnessing now was premeditated.

Tuff paused, his body language shifting, then clambered down to the lower bridge deck, leaving me alone with Stelle. I watched the tactical holo vicariously, knee bouncing up and down as we closed in Yag’Dhul. Shit… shit! How could I have not noticed? Actually, how did they notice!? What gave us away!? I clenched my teeth. The noose was closing on the Siege of Yag’Dhul, but it was not closing fast enough.

I was led to believe we had all the time we needed, when in reality, it was the Republic who did.

“Transmission from the Recon Division!” Stelle announced, patching it through immediately.

Strings of translated droidspeak scrawled across my holoscreens as the transmission came in, but my eyes were glued to the starchart. I took a cursory glance at the sender.

“Just give them a fucking voice and read it out!” I hissed.

“–Roger roger!”

“Hostile fleet detected from the northeast,” Recusant-class destroyer Lexington reported with the voice of… well, I think it was a BD-3000 service droid, “Designations indicate Twentieth Sector Army. Flagship… Venator-class battlecruiser Prominence; commanding officer Governor-General Octavian Grant. We are observing two-hundred and fifty-two ships.”

There they are. General Octavian Grant was last seen presiding over the Siege of Mechis-III with over half a thousand ships. Bringing only two-hundred must mean he had no intention of breaking the siege to deal with us… but two-hundred wasn’t enough on its own, was it?

Anyway…

“Why was Lady Lex given the voice of a bettie bot?” I asked in confusion, mild panic lifting for the most brief, liberating moment.

Stelle shrugged–or tried his best to, considering he was a battle droid with no articulated shoulders, “The system assigned her one based on her personality matrix.”

“What the–”

“Hostile fleet detected from the northwest,” Recusant-class destroyer Saratoga reported, this time with a LEP droid’s vocabulation–elsewhere in the pilothouse a pair of metal ears perked up in recognition–and a peppy tone, “Designation Taskforce Swift Justice. Flagship Tector-class battleship Swift Justice; commanding officer Jedi General Empatojayos Brand. I see… a hundred ships. Maybe a little less… uh–”

“What is it!?” I demanded, mild panic crashing back down onto my chest like a tidal wave.

“There are Fondor ships with them,” Sister Sara sounded a little nervous as Hare waddled up to stare at the comms panel curiously.

Fondor ships. My mind immediately wandered–has Fondor fallen? But if Fondor had fallen, why would there be any Fondor ships left? They surrendered then? Not good. I wanted to use Fondor as a safe haven during Operation Starlance…

In any case, a hundred ships? That meant with the Yag’Dhul siege fleet’s four-hundred and the 20th Armada’s two-hundred, there were now seven-hundred GAR warships in-system with us. A far cry from merely twenty-five hours ago, when we were the largest fish in this pond–

“Cronau radiation detected south of us!” the sensor droid raised the third alarm, making me leap out of my skin, and my chair. “Two– no, three-hundred drive cones! Flagship… flagship Harbinger! It’s the Open Circle Fleet!”

I numbly pulled up the tactical holo–at three spots of the equilateral triangle there were now three Republic fleets. One-thousand warships. The noose was now around our necks. And all three different fleets arriving at precisely the same time?

“They were prepared for this scenario,” Tuff deduced from below, “They knew Yag’Dhul was our target. We have been compromised. We have no vector of retreat. Stelle, order the Recon Division to go dark. We cannot afford to lose them.”

How did they find out? Nobody knew our target was Yag’Dhul except for the highest ranks of the CAF, and our orders were given with a hypersecure live transmission at Nanth’ri. I pulled out my tablet, scanning its files to see where else the plans existed–only for a local text document to appear. My own personal notes. No inbound or outbound transmission with even the name ‘Yag’Dhul’ in its contents. The only transmission the GAR could have plausibly intercepted was Count Dooku’s unauthorised message to Ventress at Sullust… except there weren’t any Republic assets left in-system by then.

Unless their escape pods were outfitted with some extremely bespoke ECM hardware… but I doubted that. Not to mention– could the GAR really have deduced our target from such a conversation?

I ran another scan, this time of Chimeratica’s entire communications matrix.

Nothing.

I felt a troubling sense of deja vu, that of muscles tensing and fingers jittering as they hovered over the screens. I dare say it; it was impossible for the Republic to figure out our plan so in advance they could prepare such an adequate trap. Once again, an icy shiver ran down my spine. I could only think of one explanation.

Haven’t I beaten you before, you intangible cheat!? I desperately grasped the air in front me, internally raging, as if I could capture the Force that way. There was nothing there, as expected, but when I opened my hand… there was a strange residual warmth lingering on my palm.

“Incoming transmission from Sharihen!”

“If they’re going to tell me there’s yet another enemy fleet–!”

“Not another fleet,” Naradan Du’lin’s voice was stark and humourless, “We’re picking up erratic actions from Dark Rival. Ventress isn’t obeying orders.”

I all but grabbed the tactical holo and spun it violently until it focused in on Dark Rival, the lone Providence snaking its way towards western fringe of the Yag’Dhul Star System, even while the closest other friendly warships were all blazing in the opposite direction. About time… my mind whirred like a droid’s, attention bouncing between screens and displays.

This is a trap… no. This is a battle. And all battles are puzzles to be solved. I took a deep breath, composure returning to my form, and the gears in my head churning once more. Let’s start by getting the most dangerous enemy off the board. I can do that, at least. Anakin Skywalker. He was the only person capable of such a feat. It must be him, somehow. Somehow, he trapped me. Now I must undo the trap, one fleet at a time.

“Mute yourself,” I hastily told her before snapping towards the comms droid, “Get me on a… widebeam towards the Ventress. Make it hazy. I want the Open Circle to hear this.”

“Roger roger.”

I took a deep breath.

“You are patched in, sir.”

“–Ventress.”

No response.

“You have your orders, Ventress?” I repeated her name, more forcefully this time.

“…Not yours.”

I traced the lines on the tactical holo. The lines of the 28th Mobile Fleet, closing in on Yag’Dhul. The lines of the GAR, closing in on the 28th Mobile Fleet. I let the silence stir as I perused through my next words.

“Very well. I will not pry,” I told her, “I am your ranking officer, but not your commanding officer. In the absence of orders, you did well following mine, but if your direct superior has contacted you… then far be it from me to pervert the chain of command. I must only trust that your instructions act for the greater good of this Confederacy.”

The silence lingered again. I could not see Ventress’ face through the connection, but I could most definitely imagine her expression.

“…It will. It must be.”

“Then I choose to believe you,” I lied, “Be wary, Commander. I am not fond of the Force, the dark side of it most of all, but I like to think that both of us are fighting for the same cause. So be wary. Because betrayal is an unhappy hazard of the dark side. Godspeed.”

I cut the connection. For a long moment, I tracked Dark Rival’s contact pin on the edge of the star system, far enough to jump into lightspeed without issues, but yet simply hanging there in stasis. For a moment, I thought she would attempt to contact me again–until a flash of light, a spike of radiation, and Dark Rival’s pin froze, and flashed, no longer indicating her current position but instead her last known position. Chimeratica’s long range scanners swept the area of space, then responded with no return.

We had lost her.

“Sharihen, Chimeratica,” I then said, knowing full well our scramble was made so purposefully poor that the Open Circle was almost certainly listening in, if they had any passive COMINT at all, “Ventress is making for the Llon Nebula to secure the Storm Fleet. I am confident we can hold against the Republic until she returns with those reinforcements. It is paramount she does. Thus I am dispatching you with fifty of my own ships to aid her in this mission. Acknowledge.”

I released the transceiver, “That’s enough.”

The comms droid nodded and adjusted the scramble back to standard operational level.

“Acknowledged,” the Mistryl confirmed, “It is a nice lie for Skywalker to bite. However… can you really hold against the Republic? This is not Sullust. You are outnumbered over three-to-one. And if you give us the Intelligence Division… that’s another fifty ships less at your disposal, and the odds will be four-to-one.”

“Hold? That’s part of the lie, Naradan,” I stood up and stretched again, “Upon your return, you will find but one fleet here. Mine.”

“I cannot say I dislike the confidence,” Naradan admitted, “But not even Alrix could win against four-to-one odds.”

“I am not Alrix,” I chided mildly, “And I am not fighting four-to-one odds. I am fighting one-to-one odds, four times.”

“…Very well,” Naradan allowed, “Stars shine on your soul, Bonteri. You’ll need it.”

“Remember the plans, Naradan.”

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

“We will fulfil the mission, rest assured, no matter what scenario may arise. That is the way of the Mistryl.”

Twenty Mistryl destroyers of the Emberlene Warfleet and fifty ECM frigates of the 287th Intelligence Division raced after Dark Rival, jumping into hyperspace the moment they cleared most of the debris and escape pods suspended around the egresses.

“Fleet frequency,” I requested, “Get my commanders on the deck.”

“You’re on fleet frequency, Admiral.”

One by one, the commanders of the 28th Mobile Fleet fizzled into bluish, ghostly existence in front of me. The long-faced Muun, Horgo Shive, eagerly rolling on his heels in anticipation. Diedrich Greyshade and his XO, stiff and professional in their uniforms, glancing at Horgo and Vinoc in mild distaste. Vinoc, dressed in his bastardization of mystic robes and naval apparel, wearing an easygoing grin. The Neimoidian commander, Krett, already analysing the battlezone on an offscreen display.

And lastly, our new additions. The Rimma fleet, which had originally served under Ventress in the defence of the Rimma Trade Route against Rees Alrix and Taskforce Conciliator. With Ventress’ abrupt departure, they were now headless, and had appeared to have chosen an officer from amongst themselves to present to me; it was the outspoken Neimodian in Trade Federation effects. His name was Marath Vooro.

“My friends,” I spread my arms, “As you can see, we now stand in Rees Alrix’s shoes, outnumbered four-to-one.”

“You predicted this,” Marath Vooro accused, “When you had us all suddenly target the siege fleet around Yag’Dhul.”

“I predicted too late,” I corrected apologetically, “And now we are surrounded, with no means of escape.”

“Then we simply have to win,” Horgo Shive’s black eyes glinted as his rested a closed fist in his palm, “We simply have smash them all, one by one.”

“I concur,” Greyshade nodded, “Our only hope of victory lies in defeating them in detail. We must not allow them to concentrate their forces.”

“That is the case,” I agreed, “The strategy is exactly so. And we will begin with the Siege of Yag’Dhul. We must destroy the siege fleet completely and promptly, before Octavian Grant, Empatojayos Brand, and Anakin Skywalker can tighten their encirclement.”

“They are some four-hundred ships, and some of the supply vessels who escaped into their asylum are in fighting shape. And we are two-hundred and fifty,” Krett’s wide, horizontal pupils narrowed, “It would appear they nearly outnumber us two-to-one alone.”

I locked gazes with each and every single one of them, “Will that be an issue?”

The response was in single form–

“Not at all, Admiral.”

⁂

“This is perfect,” said Admiral Yularen, and coming from, that was very high praise indeed, “We finally have the Coalition Armada trapped and cornered. This is the end of the line for the Battle Hydra.”

It certainly seems that way, Anakin thought from a mere look at the tactical displays, but we would be fools to underestimate him now. After the Devastation of Eriadu, public sentiment on the shipyard world of Fondor had finally swung wildly away from the Separatists. With their surrender and reunification with the Republic, another Separatist foothold in the Interior has evaporated, and the Taskforce Swift Justice that was besieging them could finally be brought to bear.

Along with the 20th Armada and the Open Circle Fleet, the three forces created a cordon around the star system, containing the Coalition Armada within a cage as would be beast in an exotic menagerie. All Anakin had to do was inform Jedi General and fellow Knight Empatojayos Brand, and the 20th Sector Army’s Governor-General Octavian Grant that such an opportunity was possible, so long as they arrived at the exact same time. The trap had been sprung, to crushing success.

All that was left was to close in on the Battle Hydra and rip off its heads.

But the damage had already been done. In order to buy time for their synchronised arrival, they needed the Hydra to waste as much time as possible. Time, in the form of unprotected supply vessels, sacrificing so many of them to finally put an end to the Battle Hydra, and now the Yag’Dhul Star System was littered with broken wrecks and strewn munitions and flash-frozen foodstuffs. Anakin could only hope this would pay off.

“We’ll micro-jump to Yag’Dhul once we cross this large debris field,” Anakin pointed at the jumpzone, “For now, send out our medical frigates to recover as many escape pods as possible.”

“Very good, General.”

“Master,” Tallisibeth said, “They’re going to try and break the siege.”

They were. The two-hundred and fifty ships of the Coalition Armada were closing in on Yag’Dhul from their scattered raiding stances throughout the system, many of them micro-jumping in intermittent flashes of light as they navigated through the debris fields of their own making.

“It is the sensible approach,” Admiral Yularen agreed, “The siege fleet is a siege fleet. Once they break it, they can use the planet to cover one of their flanks, preventing a total encirclement.”

“They would know a lot about encirclements, wouldn’t they?” Anakin retorted rhetorically.

Tallisibeth frowned, her red hair flaring like a dull flame, “Even if they can destroy the siege fleet and prevent a total encirclement, they will still be fighting three-to-one with their backs against the wall. Does the Hydra seem like the kind of person to fight to the bitter end?”

“Not…” Jedi General Anakin Skywalker started, “…at all.”