Chapter 62

Yag’Dhul Orbit, Yag’Dhul System

Harrin Sector

“I am pleased to report that the Republic presence in the Yag’Dhul Star System has been completely routed,” I told the holographic figures of Admiral Trench and General Ambigene, “It will take some weeks for the effects to begin to show, but the GAR’s Second Sector Army should now be feeling the pressure to recapture Yag’Dhul or open up new supply lanes.”

“They will undoubtedly target Malastare in order to secure their short-term fuel requirements,” the great Harch calculated, leaning heavily on his cane, “But with our grip on Yag’Dhul as tenuous as it is, we must expect a task force dispatched back north to dislodge the Twenty-Eighth’s efforts.”

“Let the Republic come,” Ambigene’s aide-de-camp, a fallen Jedi by the name of Wiffa Zett, hissed, “We have expected this. The only thing they will find at Malastare is their own deaths.”

“What my overzealous adjutant is trying to say, Admiral,” the ‘Tombmaker’ said curtly, as if he was not at all overzealous himself, “Is that we will be expecting the Republic at Malastare.”

“Make sure you do not destroy Malastare with the Republic fleet, General Ambigene,” Admiral Trench chuckled throatily, if not a little snidely, “Be aware the Confederacy requires Malastare’s natural fuel resources as much if not more so than the Republic.”

“We are aware,” First General let the veiled remark slide off him like water would off a duck’s back, “And we are aware of the Perlemian Coalition’s situation. Yag’Dhul is a point of concern for all of us.”

“I will hand over command of the Forty-Sixth Guard Fleet to Commander Marath Vooro and have them stationed at Yag’Dhul,” I reassured, “But I must add that the Twenty-Eighth Mobile has taken significant casualties in our prolonged campaign. Thanks to the Givin Shipyards, we can salvage much, but we will also be grounded for about a week, and our operational capacity for… other endeavours… will be found lacking. It is for this reason I must request additional reinforcements to fill our ranks before the next offensive.”

I did not point out Operation Starlance, because I was unsure if Horn Ambigene was in the know and decided to play it safe. Nor did I mention Marath Vooro was a Trade Federation customs vizier turned CAF officer, for the same reason. Nevertheless, both men were nodding along in understanding, though I imagined for different reasons. Unlike Admiral Trench, I’d rather tiptoe around Horn Ambigene.

Because while it may not seem that way even to me right then, I was bluntly aware I was standing in the presence of a mass murderer of billions. I looked into the eyes of a man trillions across the galaxy must consider the devil incarnate, and saw little more than an old man wearing a uniform he was right at home in. Rather, his aide Zett looked more like the devil instead, clad in black armoured robes and visible signs of supernatural corruption around her eyes, made blatantly apparent upon her ghastly pale flesh.

But no, one was a young woman who snorted a little too much dark side spice, and the other was the man who gave the order to deep fry an entire planet for two whole days without so much as blinking.

“Can the Twenty-Eighth be reinforced, General?” Trench inquired.

“The Republic realised their mistake the moment the Twenty-Eighth appeared at Yag’Dhul,” Ambigene replied grimly, “They have erected interdiction arrays in every inhabited star system along the Rimma Trade Route. Once the Battle for Malastare is won, and we have linked our Lower Hydian territories, we can use Hydian Way and Harrin Trade Corridor to circumvent the Republic’s defences.”

“But it will take time.”

“Correct,” Ambigene confirmed gruffly, “Reinforcements will not be arriving in any timely manner.”

“That will be a problem,” Admiral Trench clicked his mandibles, “Where is the Second Army’s line of defence right now?”

“We are fighting in the stretch between Vondarc and Sullust,” Wiffa Zett answered, “Resistance is proving heavy in the Induparan Crown Worlds. We can match them in the black, but the armies of Jedi Generals Ry-Gaul and Aayla Secura are making each planet a quagmire to liberate. In fact…”

Wiffa Zett glanced sideways–and her hologram violently shivered–before returning her attention to the conversation at hand, “The Second Battle of Medth is ongoing as we speak. Along with the Second Battle of Indupar, Battle of Starforge Nebula, Battle of Eiattu, and Battle of Tshindral.”

“Your point has been made abundantly clear,” I sighed, casting a worried look at Admiral Trench, “In this case, my fleet and I may be forced to undertake something drastic.”

“Is this undertaking a concern of the Fourth Fleet Group?” General Ambigene questioned harshly, his dark eyes flitting between Trench and myself suspiciously.

“No… it is not,” the Harch Admiral drawled, ending with a crystal clear click.

“Then I will not hear the start nor end of it,” Ambigene said, “If there is nothing else that must come to my attention, I will take my leave. I have a Summertime War to attend to.”

After a brief pause to confirm his presumption, Ambigene saluted sharply and departed. Only Ambigene, notably, and I then realised he and Wiffa Zett were not in the same place at all. The fallen Jedi looked at me, with a vague mix of curiosity and obsession, as if wondering how I would taste under the knife.

“How did you do it, Admiral?”

“Pardon me?”

“How did you defeat three fleets at Yag’Dhul?”

I smiled wryly, “You will find that the whole lot of it boils down to having the right timing, Commander Zett.”

She didn’t look at all pleased with the answer–maybe she wanted the answer to be some superweapon or magic trick or something–but nodded in acceptance regardless. With a mutter of closing pleasantries, her hologram too, winked out of existence, leaving me alone with Admiral Trench.

And Admiral Trench wasted no time; “You must launch Operation Starlance now, Bonteri.”

“Understood,” I replied, “As soon as my fleet is back in fighting shape–”

“Not as soon as your fleet is repaired, Rear Admiral. I mean now.”

His tone edged on anxiety, an emotion I’ve never heard elicited from the massive spider, and that anxiety soon infected me as well, though I knew not the reason for it. I produced my datapad, navigating to my personal notes where I had written down the 28th Mobile Fleet’s itinerary.

“But… we are still within the timetable’s projections,” I raised my concerns, “As far as we had planned, the Twenty-Eighth isn’t behind schedule, albeit by taking more casualties than initially predicted. Regardless, we should still have enough time to repair and recuperate the fleet. So… what happened? If you don’t mind my frankness.”

“Something happened in the Kashyyyk System,” Trench grimaced, “Something that prompted the Nineteenth Mobile Fleet to act prematurely. Rear Admiral Trilm had given the Open Circle the slip and struck Commenor.”

Fortress world Commenor. A single hyperlane route entered the Commenor System from the Rimward side, and four hyperlane routes exited the Commenor System on the Coreward side. It was the obvious and expected destination of the 19th Mobile Fleet, if one knew about Operation Starlance. Because there was only one possible reason for a Separatist fleet to strike a world as heavily guarded and defended as Commenor; to break into the Core Worlds.

To any Republic spectator, it can only appear as if the 19th Mobile Fleet was attempting to retrace Sev’rance Tann’s Sarapin Campaign conducted a year and half prior, which had also struck Commenor on the route to Sarapin.

“She… jumped the gun?” I repeated, somewhat astonished.

“I will not begin to presume her reasons, but the situation is dire,” Trench told me, “A single fleet in the Core, even with the Bulwark Fleet, is easy pickings for the Republic’s Home Fleet. Which is why the Twenty-Eighth must join the Nineteenth immediately, before the GAR can react. Your timetable has been accelerated.”

“But… I need to repair my ships!” I argued, “Half of the Twenty-Eighth is in fighting shape. I can still bring that fraction up to three-fourths, even without reinforcements, but I need time and space to repair. My crews also need to rest; they’ve been fighting back-to-back battles for the last seven days. Not to mention they also need to be briefed–”

Trench nipped my fretting in the bud, “The Twenty-Eighth is a Mobile Fleet. I do not need your fleet to attack the Republic, I simply need them present in the Core. And I need the Republic to know your fleet is present in the Core. Find some out-of-the-way system and repair there, and lead the GAR on a wild bantha chase with what available ships you have. At least until your fleet is operationally capable once more. We simply need to take pressure off the Nineteenth.”

The Harch Admiral paused, as if thinking of his next words. Then;

“As for your spacers; they came this far.”

⁂

“Fleets on the horizon,” Tuff told me as I was mulling–not brooding, mind you–over how to break the news to my officers, “Over a hundred vessels.”

“Vector of insertion?”

If it was from the south, it would be the Jorm’s Auxiliary Division, who we were waiting upon to begin the strategy conference. If it was from the west, it would either be Anakin Skywalker’s Open Circle Fleet or Naradan D’ulin’s Storm Fleet. Honestly, we really weren’t in any condition to take on Anakin Skywalker, and if it did turn out to be him, I was half-tempted to just withdraw elsewhere and abandon Operation Starlance.

The only reason I was half-tempted was because abandoning Operation Starlance would be tantamount to abandoning Calli Trilm and the 19th Mobile Fleet. Well, I’m sure she was wily enough to extract herself in one piece–she doesn’t go anywhere without a plan, after all–but it would still be quite damnable of me to abandon the 19th Mobile after the conversation we had over Nanth’ri.

“West. It’s a freighter convoy, Admiral.”

On the other hand… I didn’t really feel like talking to Asajj Ventress. If she was alive. I’d prefer her alive on a strategic level, obviously, but I personally didn’t feel like dealing with her. Even if that meant her general non-existence. As I watched the Storm Fleet and the Intelligence Division slide into the Yag’Dhul Star System, I also watched for any sign of pursuers; because why wouldn’t the Open Circle be pursuing them?

As the minutes, then hour, ticked away with no sign of the dagger-shaped hulls of Star Destroyers, however, my eyebrow slowly perked up in hopeful disbelief.

“The Sharihen is hailing us, sir,” Kavia Slen informed me. It was just Kavia, Tuff, and I in the pilothouse of the Chimeratica then, along with a handful of naval marines from varying alien races. The Battle of Yag’Dhul had been an all-hands job, and the vast majority of the carrier-destroyer’s spacer droids were being serviced in the deep recesses of the ship’s many workshops.

I forced a cheerful smile onto my stiff face. Tuff didn’t care; he’d seen it too many times. Kavia’s eyes widened, before her gaze diverted. She pretended not to notice.

“Pick it up.”

“Right away, boss,” the Onderonian guardsman-cum-engineer hopped over to the nearest console and patched the transmission through.

“We returned as swiftly as possible,” Naradan’s voice greeted us, “But I see my fears were unfounded.”

“What can I say except I told you so?” I paused, then asked, “Where’s Skywalker? Dead, hopefully?”

Far be it from me to wish for somebody’s death, but the anticlimactic invalidation of the Chosen One prophecy would really do wonders for the galaxy… and more importantly my mental health. Sorry, Anakin, it’s not anything personal.

“You’ve certainly made your mark on the galaxy with this one. As for Skywalker… unfortunately not,” Naradan replied, “That man was a walking nightmare. We ended up using Plan E.”

I nearly doubled over in surprise, “Dooku actually betrayed Ventress?”

“Seems that way. She’s currently recovering from wounds Anakin Skywalker dealt her. Will we now proceed to Geonosis as planned?”

So Ventress was unconscious? I could breathe a sigh of relief. Plan E meant Skywalker was stuck in the Llon Nebula for the time being, and Ventress could now be used as an asset against Count Dooku. It was an unlikely scenario, granted, but Naradan and I had evidently prepared for every scenario we could. With Ventress in our hands, however, we now had the key to Dooku’s most powerful weapon in a coup.

The master codes to every battle droid ever produced by the Confederacy. With Geonosian Industries having been contracted to design the master codes, there was virtually no way to infiltrate or sabotage the codes. After all, Geonosian Industries was simply a front for Poggle the Lesser’s Stalgasin Hive to do business with the rest of the civilised galaxy. Unless you were in Dooku’s inner circle, or a Geonosian yourself, there’s no way of getting even a foot through the door.

Luckily, we now have someone from Dooku’s inner circle. Now, here’s hoping he hasn’t realised Ventress is still alive, and failed to mention anything of the sort to Poggle the Lesser. We also have the Storm Fleet–not all of it, evidently–but enough of it to approach Geonosis without raising any alarm bells. All the ingredients to secure Geonosis for ourselves were here, and I could only allow myself a little bit of peace knowing at least something was going my way.

However… in the case the Geonosis campaign goes awry, the Storm Fleet will need a little bit of muscle. Soldiers. Troops. There were the Mistryl, but they were more suited to being covert operatives. Useful for this sort of mission, but it was better to have insurance. Considering our target, it would be most unwise to use battle droids.

I cast a brisk glance around the bridge, identifying different members of the 28th Mobile Fleet’s naval marines.

“Tuff.”

Tuff swivelled his head towards me with barely a whisper, indicating that his servos were recently lubed and services.

“Prep our dropships,” I commanded, “I want our Koorivar Fusiliers, Skakoan Commandos, and Onderonian Guardsmen transferred over to the Storm Fleet.”

Corporate Alliance, Techno Union, and Onderonian elites; all factions loyal to our little cause against Count Dooku and the Serenno Government. Let the Trade Federation and Commerce Guild marines remain with the 28th Mobile as we jump into the Core Worlds. Keep your friends close, your enemies much closer. Close enough to keep a gun to their heads at every waking moment.

“Us Onderonians as well?” Kavia asked in alarm, “Even… even them?”

“The whole Onderonian fleet,” I confirmed, “Where the Twenty-Eighth’s going, we won’t need marines. Where the Storm Fleet is going… you know, we might finally be able to find out just how aggressive Demon Moon flora is when seeding desert worlds.”

Kavia Slen grinned, “I suppose I will be…?”

I shrugged, “This entire operation was your idea in the first place. I don’t see why not.”

Kavia skipped over to Tuff and punched him the shoulder cheerfully, somehow knocking back the six-feet tall hunk of steel. Tuff’s photoreceptors blinked in surprise, staring down at his feet, which had taken a half-step back, as if mentally calculating just how much strength was necessary to push him in the first place, and whether a human was capable of such a feat. I, on the other hand, stared down at my own arm, and wondered if I could pull off such a thing too, considering I was Onderonian as well.

And then I remembered Kavia was once a guardsman herself, before she was an engineer. She could probably bench press Tuff without breaking a sweat, for that matter, much less snap me in half like a twig.

“Alright, Sharihen,” I called, “I’m transferring some troopships to your fleet. On the other hand, I’m taking back my Intelligence Division. Do you need a port of call to repair your ships?”

“We need to get onto the Harrin Trade Corridor before the Republic cuts it off,” Naradan answered as my fifty frigates broke off from her fleet, even as the Storm Fleet continued navigating to the jumpzone, “So we’ll have to decline.”

I shrugged, though she wouldn’t be able to see it, “Have it your way. Continue with Plan E, and send Ventress my regards. Godspeed.”

“I might start believing in your God if he promises neverending victory.”

“He promises a final victory,” I replied, “It’s a comforting thought, where I’m concerned.”

“…It is.”

“Make this work, Naradan, and I’ll share a drink with you and Ventress the next time we meet. Finest the Wheel has to offer. On me.”

Naradan laughed, and it was a harmonious thing, “I will have to take you up on that offer… if you are willing to shoulder the tab for my entire squad, that is.”

“If that’s the price for good work. Gladly.”

I stood up, popping my spine satisfyingly as I did so. Tuff was dispatching orders, and four outdated-looking ships–Amanoa’s Wrath, Nausicaa, Gleaming Fey, and Wandering Castle–were separating from the main cluster of vessels, angling their bows onto interception vectors with the transiting Storm Fleet. At the same time, dozens of glittering lights danced between huge battlecruisers; troopships, veritably tiny compared to ships of the line, and no more significant than fireflies in the vastness of space.

Still, those troopships might just be key to winning the Confederacy of Independent Systems its final victory. Over Count Dooku, at least.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

But that was only one half of it, wasn’t it? Even as Kavia marshalled together Chimeratica’s marines and organised them into the shuttles, my mind was still filled with half-baked strategies to penetrate and survive the Core Worlds.

“Master Rain,” from the corner of the bridge, a little LEP droid woke up from its hibernation, “I have been connected to the PRIESTESS Network.”

There was a pregnant, second-long pause as Tuff and I dropped everything in our hands and minds to stare at the tiny metal rabbit as it mindfully unplugged itself from the charging port.

Then–

“Error. Error. Recalculating probability matrices–”

Holy shit! She actually did it! I slapped Tuff in the back, elated, and the droid stumbled forward two paces.

⁂

With the return of the ‘6th Auxiliary Division and the ‘7th Intelligence Division, the 28th Mobile Fleet’s numbers were bolstered to just over a hundred fighting ships. A far cry from the original three-hundred or so that initially mustered over Nanth’ri. Still, there was a silver lining, which I clutched onto desperately like a lifeline.

We managed to salvage another hundred or so warships that we could plausibly resuscitate and bring back to life. As much as I flirted with the idea of commandeering captured Republic vessels, especially capital ships, I had to face the reality that the GAR and CAF operated on wholly different scales when it came to manpower requirements. We could still take in some of the smaller GAR corvettes and frigates, but the burdensome crew numbers necessary to fill out even a single Venator-class battlecruiser was simply not worth it.

As such, that was the state of the 28th Mobile Fleet as its six flag officers sat around a sullen table in one of the Chimeratica’s boardrooms, all physically in attendance. They were patiently waiting for Commander Jorm’s appraisal of the situation, as the logistics officer inspected the status reports submitted by each flag officer.

“We’re running low on repair modules and expendable munitions,” I supplied, just to break the awkward quiet.

Difficult to protect and slow as they were, the self-propelled manufacturing facilities called auxiliaries were vital to getting this fleet into the Core and back. As long as they could keep the fleet supplied, that is. We all knew this would be their first real test, and I in particular was deathly afraid of finding out whether they would fail it. Failure would be a death sentence.