Chapter 79

Wroona Orbit, Wroona System

Harrin Sector

Scout once thought that the Battle Hydra would be the most terrible enemy she ever had to face, that the Grand Army of the Republic would ever have to face. The Warlord of the Perlemian who crushed fleet after fleet and Jedi after Jedi in his relentless advances across the height and breadth of the galaxy, in whichever direction the Pantoran pointed him towards. An… insurmountable challenge, it had seemed, to any Jedi tasked with putting a stop to his rampage.

Scout was now reevaluating her erroneous preconceptions.

Because the Battle Hydra’s rampage had been put to a stop, by the combined efforts of Admiral Honor, Master Plo, and Master Kenobi, in the Rendili Star System. He was not… undefeatable.

But standing in the Battle Room of the battlecruiser Aurodia, the bloodthirsty crusade of the Tombmaker of Eriadu seemed utterly unstoppable. As Scout desperately hung on to every ticking, sweeping update across the innumerous holos and displays, that horrible sinking feeling only embedded itself deeper and deeper into her gut; Horn Ambigene did not know the definition of ‘defeat’.

“Commander A’din to Wroona Command, can you hear me!?” Scout was hunched over a comms station, headset pressed against one ear, “The Seps have launched another assault on Lohopa-Two. We’re requesting urgent reinforcements!”

Scout clenched her teeth. Eight times now, the Tombmaker had hurled his forces against Yag’Dhul, and eight times the Second Sector Army had thrown him back, each one more hard fought than the last. And yet here he was again, Horn Ambigene, pushing his relentless offensive up the Rimma Trade Route, unwilling to accept defeat, incapable of turning back.

There was a grim respect in Scout’s thoughts for the man’s sheer tenacity, but the admiration was edged with wariness. Ambigene’s utter disdain for the notion of defeat did not just border on recklessness, but was madness in of itself; he seemed to care little for the staggering cost in soldiers and ships, so long as his goal lay in reach.

“I hear you, Commander A’din,” Scout checked her mental list, “How many men do you need?”

“The Seventh Legion’s thinned–” she was briefly deafened by the scream of atmospheric thrusters followed by a chain of rampaging explosions roaring out the headset, “–sixty troopships to recoup our losses!”

Scout looked down at the comms officer, waiting attentively to record her orders, “Seventh Legion in the Lohopa System requests sixty troopships… one million troopers.”

“Seventh Legion; Lohopa System; sixty full troopships,” the officer recited as he punched in the command, “That makes three-hundred and seventy troopships today, sir. I’ll run it by the Second Armada, but I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

“Run it by them now. We’ll try to redeploy some of the nearby reinforcements just in case,” Scout pointed at a holochart of the Harrin Trade Corridor before swivelling around to a nearby officer, “Commander Fajinak, I need a status report on the Stobar System!”

Lieutenant Commander Fajinak’s eyes darted towards her in surprise, before sharpening in attention. He did not need to consult any material to give his answer; “The situation is tight, sir! We’ve just sent sixty Acclamators and a million troopers to shore up its defences just in time! The Seps aren’t letting us breathe.”

“So Ambigene’s trying to outflank the Seventh Legion, just as we feared,” Scout nodded grimly, silently cursing herself for ever hoping the Tombmaker would relent on just one front of the campaign, “Who’s fighting there?”

“The Three-Twenty-Seventh Star Corp’s Thirteenth Brigade, sir,” Fajinak answered easily.

“–Return transmission from the Second Armada, Commander!” the comms officer suddenly alerted, prompting Fajinak to rush to their side.

“How many can they spare?” Scout braced herself for the answer.

“They only have three-hundred Acclamators left in reserve,” the comms officer squinted at the transcript, “They’re saying they’ll try to procure and commandeer more troopships, but it’ll be some time until then. General Ry’Gaul is disallowing having proper warships be put on transport duty.”

Scout couldn’t blame the Jedi General. If there was one thing they needed more than transports it was warships. Horn Ambigene had a frightful trigger finger, and a tendency to blow apart anything and anyone that would raise a modicum of obstruction. They must contest the Tombmaker’s fleets above every planet they fought over, lest there wouldn’t even be a planet left to fight over.

“Three-hundred is better than nothing,” Scout closed her eyes, visualising the campaign in her mind’s eye, “Chief, which fronts require reinforcements?”

The comms officer’s gaze was fixed on his console as he rattled through requests, linking them to a starchart that flickered with dots and line;. “Lohopa-Two requests sixty troopships; Ord Vaug needs forty for the Three-Thirty-Second; General Skywalker’s calling for a hundred at Vandelhelm in the south. We’ve got an order for seventy more from General Ry-Gaul on Woostri, and General Aayla Secura is asking for fifty on Derra-Four.”

He paused, scrolling further, “Pendarr-Three, Moorja, Xeron, Hythrope, Athallia–they’re all calling for reinforcements. We’ve already earmarked six-million men for deployment.”

Scout’s gaze drifted to the starchart, now ablaze with the red indicators of active battlefields. Warzones and reinforcement lines crisscrossed the screen like arteries, pulsing as star sectors were carved up by vast, invisible trenches. Each arrowhead and border spoke to the strain on the Republic’s lines, as if torn apart to answer the relentless fury of the Tombmaker’s ninth assault. Eight times he had hurled himself Coreward, and eight times they’d thrown him back. But this time, his assault stretched across so many fronts that the scale of it felt suffocating, larger than anything he’d marshalled before.

“But we’re lacking the ships to ferry them to the front,” Lieutenant Commander Fajinak grimaced, eyes tracing the lines on the holo, “It doesn’t help that the Tombmaker’s a master at hit-and-fades and asymmetric warfare. Admiralty’s reporting raids all across the Interior; at Roundtree, Arkam, Laertos, Beltrix-Three and Tomo-Reth. Rain Bonteri poked a hole in the Southern Core, and Horn Ambigene followed up to tear our asshole wide open–excuse my language, sir.”

“The Seps are bleeding us dry,” Scout murmured, silently wishing for the wisdom of Master Skywalker or Admiral Yularen to turn to–right before mentally berating herself for even considering that. The General and Admiral had entrusted her and her staff to directing the war effort, even giving Scout her own command flagship–Aurodia–to that end. She must not betray the trust and authority they vested in her, “And it doesn’t help that Yag’Dhul is somehow still being supplied.”

And supplying those raiders in turn. Yag’Dhul was under siege–resumed once the threat of the Hydra had evaporated with his fleets–and yet the Givin showed no sign of ailment. In fact, the Mathematocracy was feeling healthy enough to launch their Wavecrests into the Southern Core to harass their supply lines in tandem with the Confederate Fourth Fleet. ‘Conjuring resources from thin air’ was how Octavian Grant described the phenomenon. Either they’re arithmetic sorcery was more sorcerous than they had let on, or the Givin were in on some secret hyperlane from Force knows where. One was more likely than the other.

“What do you recommend, sir?” Fajinak turned to her, expectancy dripping from his tongue.

“…Pull sixteen brigades off Stobar and redeploy them to Lohopa-Two,” Scout ordered, “Vandelhelm and Woostri must get their troops by any means necessary. Moorja will also get everything they ask for–we can’t risk our western flank collapsing. Chief, hook a line to General Octavian Grant and request that he reinforces the Xeron System, as well as expand his patrols through Beltrix and Tomo-Reth.”

“What about Derra-Four and Ord Vaug?”

Scout dug her nails into her palms, willing the Force to flow through her, guiding her to the right direction. What should I do? She asked to the void, and received silence in return.

“Sir?” the comms officer asked, fingers hovering over the keys. Whatever she says, he would will into existence, guaranteeing the safety of millions… and guaranteeing the deaths of just as many.

“…We can’t send any to Derra-Four,” Scout said through gritted teeth, “It’s too far-flung, too inconsequential to the front.”

“General Aayla Secura’s fighting there,” Commander Fajinak reminded her, as if reminding her she was supposed to give preferential treatment to fellow Jedi, “These ships could mean the life or death of her campaign in the Derra System.”

Scout snapped her head at the comms officer, “Chief, send a priority transmission to the Sixteenth Sector Army. If Governor-General Coy needs the sight of me on my knees to send his armies to Derra-Four ASAP, tell him he’ll have it.

“R-Right away, sir.”

“Inform as such to General Secura,” she continued, “They’ll have to hold on tight until we get an answer–preferably a favourable one. No other choice.”

“And Ord Vaug, sir?”

Ord Vaug… it’s right off the Rimma Trade Route. If it falls, the flanks of the Rimma will be put in jeopardy. That’s our main front.

“Send everything they need,” Scout finally decided, “How many ships do we have left to send Commander A’den?”

“…Twenty, sir.”

“With ten brigades from Stobar, we can fulfil half of his request,” Commander Fajinak murmured, “It’s better than nothing. However…”

Scout patted the chief on his shoulder, signalling him to start sending the transmission, before bringing her attention to the first officer of the Aurodia– “However…?”

“We can consider sending those twenty ships to Stobar first,” the hologram fizzled as Fajinak ran his index finger down the arrow, “Beat back the Seps there, then reroute all our forces on Stobar to bolster Lohopa. The question remains–”

“Can the Seventh Legion survive that long?” Scout nodded, already striding towards the simulations bay, “Run the viability assessments. As soon as there’s a clear projection, relay our decision to Commander A’den. For now, let’s get those reinforcements on their way to Lohopa.”

“Very good, sir!”

The Battle Room hummed with sudden activity, screens and holos shifting in real time as updates poured in, their changing hues igniting a shiver along Scout’s arms. Red lines of the enemy’s influence wove across the holomaps like voracious flames, carving through the Southern Core with a relentless wildfire with no firebreaks in sight. There were no clear boundaries anymore, just the sprawling spread of the Tombmaker’s fleets as they ravaged across sector borders, pouring into neighbouring AOs and destabilising the front.

Fighting a man who refuses to taste defeat—that’s one kind of military hell, Scout mused bitterly. But coordinating with the Sector Armies? That’s another brand of bureaucratic hell entirely. Octavian Grant, for all his noble airs, was an ally she could stomach. They’d fought together before, and she daresay knew he respected her, perhaps even shared in the bond of facing the Battle Hydra head-on. But the other Governor-Generals? Dealing with the others was nothing short of political purgatory.

They’re my allies! She thought with a scowl. Why must I sacrifice more to them than to the enemy?

She forced herself into a meditative calm, summoning the Force like a balm over her fraying temper–a more common occurrence these days than she’d prefer to admit. Pride, she reminded herself, what I’m sacrificing is only my pride. If there were any of it left to speak of. She now understood why General Skywalker disliked dealing with them. Good for him, pawning the work on me.

A chime drew her attention to her datapad. Another report–cause for hope and distress all the same. Lurching from one disaster to another, one decision to another, making sacrifices here and there to maintain the overall integrity of the front. Scout opened up the report, hoping that some front or the other had freed up troops that could be redeployed to more urgent sectors. Or maybe good news from the shipyards of the Core Worlds, and new warships and transports had been procured for the southern front.

257th Legion on Gallapraxis requesting additional troops and close air support. 45th Armoured Battalion on Tregillis needs more medical supplies. 64th Shock Division on Alchenaut requests immediate evacuation.

Scout numbly forwarded the requests to the relevant stations, “Lieutenant Commander, we need to evac our forces in the Alchenaut System. What’s the closest redeployable fleet?”

Fajinak’s eyes darted up from the simulations bay, “Ord Vaug, sir.”

You’ve got to be kidding me.

“Operations! How many ships do we need to get our men off Alchenaut?” Scout demanded.

“Thirty-two, sir!” the ops officer punched in some keys, “Well–twenty-five if we can them in a little cramped up!”

“We’ve only got seventeen at Ord Vaug,” Fajinak said, “But we’ve just confirmed the deployment for forty more transports there.”

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

“Operations, get those seventeen down to Alchenaut immediately,” Scout ordered hastily, “Tell the Sixty-Fourth the rest are on their way!”

‘It might be too late by then, though’ was left unspoken. Scout didn’t linger on that thought–she couldn’t afford to for one, and she was by now far too comfortable with that line of thought for two.

“We’ll need to pull off some escorts for them as well, especially capital ships,” the Lieutenant Commander warned, “Alchenaut’s a hot spot of Seppie activity, which I s’pose is what has us on the run. Regardless, it’ll rain in the Undercity before our transport touchdown without orbital cover.”

And if we pull warships off Ord Vaug– but we also can’t leave half a million men to die on Alchenaut! What other fleets nearby from nearby…? Alchenaut Sector… Nkllon System!

“Get those ships from the Nkllon System nearby,” Scout ordered, “We’re withdrawing from the Alchenaut Sector entirely, so we won’t need them to hold to flank at Nkllon. They’ll rendezvous in the black before inserting into Alchenaut.”

“I’ll relay it to comms, sir.”

“Logistics,” trusting her second to it, she darted to the next station, “Appropriate some medical frigates for Jurzan. They have escort priority! I’ll leave the details to you.”

“But, sir–we’ve already got frigates bound for Aviles Prime!” The officer’s voice wavered, a pitch too high, his youth evident, almost as young as her– “We’re still waiting on ships to free up in the Jurzan System, and–there’s nothing left to spare!” His words rushed out, barely coherent. “I’ve… I’ve put in a request to RDPO, but we haven’t received any response yet!”

Even in the cool dimness of the Battle Room, sweat glistened on his skin, casting a sheen under the faint blue glow of the holodisplays. His wide eyes were fixed on Scout, betraying the storm of dread beneath his attempt at professionalism. She could feel his pulse, his fear radiating from him like a beacon in the dark, unspoken but clear: it’s my fault, it’s my fault, it’s my fault! His desperation was almost tangible, like a suffocating halo around him.

And he was on the edge, teetering dangerously close to a panic attack

“Calm down,” she urged, cursing the Republic Defense Procurement Office as a starchart flashed through her mind, “Does Jurzan have priority?”