Chapter 65

Skako Orbit, Skako System

Bormea Sector

Captain Jan Dodonna pushed down his unease as his shuttle made the transit to fleet flagship Arlionne, the mighty warship like a dagger poised directly over the heart of Skako. The glittering ecumenopolis hung in the void like a suspended pearl, its gleaming shields warping the atmosphere like a technological aurora. The world’s thick methane atmosphere absorbed its sun’s infrared radiation, granting the pearl a bluish tint. Jan Dodonna didn’t think himself a particularly brave man, and his belly knotted with tension as he thought of the recent developments on the front. But he was a captain of the Republic Navy, and he was nothing if not dutiful.

Jan watched out the viewports as the shuttle manoeuvred to dock, overhauling the nine-hundred metre Victory-class heavy cruiser, and it took all he had not to gawk like a cadet on his first deployment. Arlionne was neither large nor menacing–in fact, his own ship the Venator-class Prudence boasted well over two-hundred metres over her. But the hollow throats of missile launchers and the ominous snouts of turbolasers heavy and light crouched in her open artillery decks betrayed the truth of it. Within that compact frame, Arlionne possessed an entire battleship’s worth of guns, and with its two massive shield generators and an almost comically oversized solar ionisation reactor that bulged out from its hull, she could take on two or even three Venators and beat them all bloody.

Pocket battleship. The affectionate epithet started somewhere in the ranks of the Navy, but Jan Dodonna found it fitting. A marvel of design and engineering even he could appreciate. The Republic Navy’s answer to the Separatist starfleet’s missile doctrine. There was a reason Admiral Honor Salima opted to transfer her flag from the traditional flagship of the Coruscant Home Defence Fleet, after all.

Regardless, Arlionne was not the Victory-class heavy cruiser in service of the Home Fleet, and the sheer number of them dotting the skies over Skako truly baffled Jan. Only three standard years ago, the process of construction, trials, evaluations and commissioning would be far more extended, stifled by regulations and treaties and all sorts of other bureaucratic devilry. But there was no time for that now. The tempo of construction and commissioning was almost scary, if not even careless, but the reason for such a hurry was enough to convince even the most fastidious of classification societies towards the necessity.

The cruiser’s tractor beams reached out to the shuttle, capturing it and easing it into the brilliantly lit cavern of the fighter launch bay. Jan was marching down the ramp before it had even touched the polish deck, and the officer of the deck came up with his spotless, perfectly creased uniform, datapad tucked under one elbow and other raised in a crisp salute.

“Permission to come aboard, officer?”

“Welcome aboard, sir.”

There wasn’t even a pause in the Captain’s stride as he crossed the demarcation line, officially stepping aboard Star Destroyer Arlionne. Her defining feature? Cleanliness. Admiral Honor ran a tight ship. There was not a blemish on the reflective floor, not an unsecured crate, and not an ill-worn uniform in sight. Strain his ears as he might, the Captain couldn’t even hear the usual casual chatter one might on the deck.

He reached the bridge through similarly muted corridors, and appreciated how much shorter a distance it was compared to the Prudence. Arlionne’s bridge was a wholly different beast compared to Prudence’s. It was smaller, for one–as a Venator served not just a ship-of-the-line but also a command vessel, while a Victory was designed to be a frontline brawler–and did not possess the expanded tactical section the former had. Nor did she possess the nearly 270-degree field of vision Prudence found necessary as a combat carrier. Arlionne was smaller, more focused, sharper. Jan Dodonna felt like he was looking through the eyes of a hunting hound.

Captain Jan Dodonna saluted the back of the figure standing on the central causeway, “Captain Dodonna reporting, sir.”

Admiral Honor Salima was a tall woman, straight-backed and stern, and hair cropped into a neat pixie. At her side was the flag captain of the Arlionne, Captain Terrinald Screed. His was the sort of face that revealed very little, in no small part due to his one prosthetic eye, but the accolades to his name were impressive. Which they ought to be. The Home Fleet was now the most modern command in the Republic Navy, and the Admiralty wouldn’t have picked its flag captain’s name out of a hat. For a time, all that could be heard on the bridge was Admiral Honor’s footsteps and the chime of electronics as she approached him.

“Well done, Captain,” she appraised, “With this, the Bulwark Fleet is at its end.”

Jan nodded diffidently. The Home Fleet had run Dua Ningo ragged, with the main body under Admiral Honor herself pursuing him system to system while a smaller detachment under Captain Dodonna flanked and cut off every avenue of escape the old Sullustan had. It was a well-planned dance of fleets and warships, slowly grinding down the Bulwark Fleet until they had no choice but to find a safe harbour for repairs. The Techno Union world of Skako was the largest Separatist shipyard in the region.

“High Command has us ordered to expedite the destruction of the Bulwark Fleet, Admiral,” Captain Dodonna said, “They want us to put a pin to the Perlemian Coalition’s rampage.”

The edge of Admiral Honor’s lips curled upwards, “Indeed they have. Does that cesspit on Coruscant believe I am omnipresent? Do they think I have eyes over the whole Hydian Way? Do they think I can conjure warships from vacuum to patrol it? There’s no pinning an enemy that can appear and disappear at will.”

“They believe we did it for the Bulwark Fleet,” Flag Captain Screed pointed out.

Admiral Honor narrowed her eyes into daggers, “Nonsense. Dua Ningo is an older breed. He likes his eggs in one basket, where he can watch over all of them at any time. The only type of naval warfare he can comprehend is that of large naval engagements and showpiece battles. If that old alien had the sense to split his fleet like Calli Trilm did, he would already be back in Separatist space.”

The Admiral spun on her heel, marching back out towards the viewports. Captains Terrinald and Jan shared a knowing look. They had a history that dated back to service in the Judicial Forces of the Republic, having participated in the Stark Hyperspace War among other anti-pirate campaigns. It was said Terrinald lost his eye to a Biskaran Pirate during the Siege of Niele, where half his face was carved out by a madman with a vibro-axe as a price for his breakthrough.

“I heard your son was at Commenor,” Terrinald said softly.

“He was,” Jan stiffened, and it took everything he had to not choke on his next words, “But nothing’s been… confirmed.”

Terrinald looked down, nodding minutely, “We all do our duty.”

Captain Screed gripped his shoulder tightly, before releasing him and turning around towards the Admiral; “Are we to ignore the order, then?”

Admiral Honor’s shoulders tensed, her hands behind her back as she looked on towards Skako. Jan followed her gaze, at the tiny droplets rippling over its planetary shields like rain falling upon a still lake. Missiles. Turbolasers. The entire Home Fleet was pounding away at Skako’s shields, having succeeded the 1st Reserve Armada’s role in that purpose. One might believe a planet’s shield was homogenous, and they would be wrong. There was no shield generator in the galaxy yet powerful enough to encompass an entire planet in its protective shell. Instead, planetary shields were more or less a composite of densely packed shield generators all activated to create overlapping shells across the entire surface of a planet.

This meant that to break a planetary shield, a besieging fleet must identify its weakest point and concentrate all fire upon it there. Many worlds opt to evenly space out their shield generators, of course, but most tend to concentrate their shields over urban and industrial sectors, leaving rural areas less shielded. Usually, that would be where the shield was pierced, allowing armies to be inserted planetside and assault the world from the ground. But Skako was an ecumenopolis–a city-world–and it was the homeworld of one the most technologically advanced species in the galaxy, the headquarters of the Techno Union.

The Home Fleet had relented to bombarding the shields over the shipyards that housed the Bulwark Fleet. It was their target, after all.

“Ignore…?” the Admiral of the Home Fleet mused, “Maybe if those feckless puppets in High Command hadn’t been so preoccupied with kissing Palpatine’s wrinkled toes, they would have advised the delusional old fool against sending the fleets to the frontier. That decision has achieved nothing but a cascade of consequences since.”

The two captains remained silent to the Admiral’s scathing remarks. It was a sensitive subject for all of them, for all the Core’s current woes could be traced back to that singular order to go on the offensive. By redeploying the Reserve Armadas to the front on the overly-zealous assumption that victory was at hand, Coruscant was forced to spread the Home Fleet thin garrisoning all the protesting systems that now missed the protection of the reserve fleets. Despite Admiral Honor leaving behind a small garrison back at Coruscant, it was not enough to prevent the Bulwark Fleet from wreaking havoc.

“It was… my failure to prevent the Bulwark Fleek breaking out at Foerost,” Captain Jan Dodonna apologised.

“I thought Commodore Vuld Tansen was in command at Foerost?” the Admiral asked sharply.

“He was, sir,” Jan swallowed thickly.

“I am sure you served with all the expediency he permitted you,” she waved off dismissively, “He’s dead now, anyway.”

Disintegrated with his flagship over Foerost when the Bulwark Fleet attacked.

“The Fifth Reserve Armada is still in the Core, Admiral,” Captain Screed reminded.

“I’d imagine they are rather preoccupied panicking about Empress Teta’s secession,” Admiral Honor vexxed, “By a Separatist fleet travelling through the Deep Core, no less. And now that pit of snakes have reversed course on the whole war, dragging the fleets back to the Core. Do they not realise they are playing straight into the Pantoran’s hands? This is exactly what she wants.”

Jan looked down, “The Core’s about to become a political bloodbath.”

“That is no concern of ours,” if Admiral Honor was concerned about the fate of her homeworld, she didn’t show it, “We will focus on putting an end to the Bulwark Fleet first and foremost.”

Despite being Coruscanti, Honor Salima cared little about the ‘cesspit’ and ‘pit of snakes’ she called home. It had been widely circulated on both military and media networks that her vicious hunt for the Bulwark Fleet had been borne out of some sort of contrition for a perceived personal failure to protect her ward. Jan thought so too, until he actually met the woman himself.

Rather than contrition, he rather believed she was fueled by pride. He wasn’t sure if it was for better or worse.

“How should we reply to the order, sir?” Terrinald questioned.

“…We will deal with the Perlemian Coalition’s Armada as well,” Admiral Honor decided, “But only if the Home Fleet gets unrestricted access to all hyperlane registrars in the Core.”

“That’s overreaching,” Jan noted hesitantly.

“If they want me to overreach my fleet,” she retorted cooly, “Then they will give me what I need to overreach. Send it, Captain Screed.”

“Right away, Admiral.”

“And Captain Dodonna?”

Jan straightened, “Sir?”

“Bring your fleet forward,” the Admiral commanded, “Keep prodding that shield. I want you to tell me where to shoot by the end of the week.”

“Orders received, Admiral.”

⁂

Captain Jan Dodonna watched on the holos as Commander Adar Tallon’s fighter-bomber wings ran Skako’s gauntlet for the fourth time that day, slashing right against the planetary shields with a blazing flurry of bombs and torpedoes right within the atmospheric purgatory between black and blue. Prudence’s active scopes watched the ripples in the shield intently, taking in a number of readings and measurements in order to make a rough estimate of the shield sector’s saturation percentage.

Deflector shields acted on the simple premise of reflecting or absorbing energy–mostly kinetic and heat, depending on the weapon–and diffusing it throughout its surface area before dispersing it either as natural light and heat loss, or routing it into capacitors in the shield generators, which stores the energy. There were two main ways a deflector shield ‘breaks’. First is if the input of energy overloads the capacitors or melts the heatsinks, shutting down the whole grid until it could be rerouted. This is what usually occurs against warships. Against planetary shields, however, it is more likely if a certain sector of the shield reaches maximum energy saturation and isn’t able to store any more, creating a ‘hole.’

The latter was Admiral Honor Salima’s plan for Skako. The disadvantage of such a tactic was that the energy input must be constant and overwhelming–or at least, higher than the energy output rate of the shield at any one time. It was simple enough mathematics.

“The results?” Jan asked.

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“I think we can make it, sir,” the sensor officer analysed the results, “If the Skakoans don’t have anything left up their sleeves, that is.”

“How much will it take to… make it?”

“A concentrated missile barrage from every Victory we have in the Home Fleet, and then some,” the officer answered, “Keep that up for anywhere from a day to half a week, depending on how Skakoan shield tech works, and we might just punch a hole in that shield.”

“That sounds…”

Doable. This is the best case scenario as far as planetary shields go.

“…Achievable,” Jan finished, “Keep up the fire. Don’t let them recharge. And send word to–”

“Captain!” a deck officer jogged up to him, “The Admiral needs you in the Battle Room.”

“Speak of the Bloodhound,” he muttered, before tugging down on his uniform, “Let’s not keep her waiting.”

He entered the Battle Room to the awaiting holographic presences of Admiral Honor and Captain Screed. A brisk sharing of salutes later, and Jan joined them at the large holotable.