Chapter 80

Wroona Orbit, Wroona System

Harrin Sector

“Commander…” Lieutenant Commander Fajinak’s voice stirred Scout awake, the young Jedi feeling the distinct coolness of polished metal on her cheek as she pulled herself upright, “We’ve got an urgent transmission from Jurzan.”

Scout rubbed her eyes, grit scraping against her lids as she forced them open again, blinking back the haze of fatigue. She had half the mind to be ashamed of so blatantly falling asleep in the Battle Room–and being woken by her XO, no less!–but she could tell Fajinak could hardly care. His words slowly registered in her mind as she captured enough of her wits to prevent her first words being slurred. The background hum of electronics and holotech settled into her bones, like a slow-burning simmer that brought life back to her body.

Just one more sector to review, she initially thought, just another set of troop movements to confirm probably.

But it was the name of the world that jolted her to full attention, like a pike through her skull.

Jurzan… that sounds familiar.

Commander Fajinak took her sudden alertness as his cue to continue; “The Hundred-Thirty-Eighth Armoured Corps is requesting an immediate extraction.”

“Do they lack the troopships?” Scout squinted, frowning at her console.

“They’ve been stranded for some time, sir,” Fajinak shifted, hawkish eyes analysing her response, “We had ordered some blockade runners to relieve them with much needed medical supplies, but the frigates were urgently redeployed to Tregillis due to the higher priority of the sector.”

“Oh,” she replied dumbly, “There’s thirty-two Acclamators in the Hythrope System nearby. Can we redeploy them to Jurzan?”

“…Hythrope is being evacuated as well, sir. The order had been issued two days ago.”

“Oh.”

The air in the Battle Room felt thick, tinged with stale sweat and the sour stench of too many unwashed bodies forced to coexist in the same space for days on end. Scout was running on stimulants and sheer grit, her skin clammy under her too-tightly wrapped robes, her vision flickering at the edges from exhaustion. Around her, officers leaned over consoles, heads bowed, mumbling instructions in low, weary voices. Her staff was in no better condition than she was; hollow-eyed, backs hunched as they typed and swiped and relayed orders that seemed to vanish into the air. There was a sense of… not hopelessness… more like futility hanging like a shroud above them. As if their efforts were nothing more than feeble gestures of resistance against the vast shadow of the Separatist war machine.

No one had slept. Not really. Maybe they’d caught a few hours with every changing shift, but even then, the vibrations from incoming transmissions were a constant reminder of the battle at hand, rattling their nerves with constant demands for reinforcements, reports of enemy movements, desperate pleas for relief. Each watch, each request bled into the next, an endless litany of needs they could barely meet, wearing away at the semblance of control they clung to.

Aurodia was a ghost ship, crewed by ghouls and spectres. The command nexus presiding over the Near-Rimma AO was a vast and complex structure, a living net of information spanning thousands of light-years, connecting battlefields with strategic command nodes, entangling local data points with the pulse of larger objectives. Aurodia was one of those nodes, overseeing the dozen other command vessels that drifted in her shadow in the Wroona System, each one tasked with supervising their assigned star systems.

It was Aurodia who translated their localised webs into something whole, pushing the flood of intelligence Coreward to the headquarters of the 20th Sector Army on Tallaan. Aurodia was the middle-management between the greater strategic impulses of the Sector Army and the local tactical practicalities of her satellite commands. Despite fully understanding the severity of her duties, she still wished she could be anywhere else–even on the battlefields of Vandelhelm!

“Well…” Scout pushed herself to her feet, the blue-scanned light of the holoprojection table burning into her retinas, “Are there any other nearby task forces we can send to relieve Jurzan?”

“Mikaster, Genisaria, and… here,” Fajinak pointed, briefly hesitating as a new icon blinked into view, red and ominous against the starfield projection, “Here as well, in the Pelonat System. But we’re seeing increased Separatist pressure across the entire eastern flank. It wouldn’t be safe to deprive these battlefields of their orbital support.”

As if prophesied by his words, a red alert blipped into existence on the starchart, flagged up by a satellite command vessel. A messenger materialised at the holotable within moments, bringing her the transcript from the comms bay.

“The Separatists have launched an all-out planetary assault on Lohopa-Two, sir,” the messenger passed her the transcript, “Boeus Command recommends withdrawing from the Jurzan and Hythrope salients to tighten the front.”

She stared at it, her tired mind scrambling to process, as a low murmur started rippling through the room.

“An isolated offensive on Lohopa doesn’t sound like the Tombmaker,” Commander Fajinak told her, “We must assume that this is it.”

Scout’s pulse quickened as more alerts began appearing, from a slow trickle to a mass, spreading across their eastern flank on the Harrin Trade Corridor like an infectious rash. The Battle Room buzzed with activity, as officers and staffers came alive from their fugue as anxiety and panic set in.

“Only the Harrin Corridor?” Scout’s voice was eerily calm, instilling a sense of stoic tension in the room and overpowered the rising panic, “Can we confirm with General Ry-Gaul and General Skywalker that they aren’t seeing any unusually large Separatist activity?”

“I’ll secure a line to Vandelhelm at once, Commander,” the messenger nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste to the comms bay.

Lieutenant Commander Fajinak was staring at her intensely, “Commander sir, if the offensive is only on the Harrin Corridor as you suspect–”

“Then it means even Horn Ambigene is feeling his losses,” Scout nodded, her fist clutching around that little glimmer of hope, “His callous disregard for losses has come to bite him back.”

And it means we made a mistake, Scout thought, that I made a mistake. I sent the vast majority of our available reserves to Vandelhelm and Wroona on the Rimma Trade Route, anticipating the main Separatist offensive to materialise there.

“We need to commit everything to the Harrin,” Fajinak said decisively, “Stop the Tombmaker in his tracks at Lohopa.”

He was watching her, judging her. The Lieutenant Commander deferred to her on matters of command because she was a Jedi, but their ranks were of equal value, and his age far overshadows her’s. He was as much her second as he was her custodian, and Scout knew, should she falter for even a moment, the Lieutenant Commander was well within his rights to veto her orders and take control. Scout’s authority was built upon her status as a Jedi, and her relationship with General Skywalker. Fajinak and his officers–they respected that status so far, but Scout had to maintain that respect nevertheless.

Scout held down the intercom, “Operations, issue a withdrawal for all forces in the Hythrope and Jurzan salients. We are consolidating our front in the Lohopa System. Authorise all required task forces required to evacuate our armies.”

“Acknowledged, Commander–”

[ATHALLIA HQ] REQUESTING IMMEDIATE REINFORCEMENTS—ENEMY FORCES BREACHED PLANETARY DEFENCES; CIVILIAN EVACUATION INCOMPLETE.

An urgent transmission from Athallia caught her attention, with the news that reinforcements have already been authorised by the relevant station.

[ARMATH HQ] HEAVY CASUALTIES REPORTED; REMAINING FORCES ARE HOLDING PERIMETER BUT URGENTLY NEED SUPPORT TO PREVENT COLLAPSE.

But before she could even catch her breath, her console chimed yet again, somehow with increasing urgency. This time, there weren’t any available units on hand to redeploy, and the local command centre was seeking advice–

[MIKASTER HQ] SEPARATIST BOMBARDMENT ONGOING; POPULATION CENTERS AT RISK—REQUESTING EVACUATION CORRIDORS FOR NON-COMBATANTS.

[DERRA HQ] MULTIPLE ENEMY DIVISIONS CONVERGING; LAST LINE OF DEFENCE COLLAPSING—URGENT REINFORCEMENTS OR FULL EVAC NEEDED IMMEDIATELY.

She didn’t even have time to answer. Another transmission was forwarded to her station, then another, and another. A trifling number at first, but as if following in the wake of the alerts, soon pouring in with the wrath of a storm as hundreds of battlefields soon came under the fire of the Separatist offensive.

[ATRAKUS HQ] SUPPLIES RUNNING CRITICALLY LOW; WE CAN’T HOLD FOR MORE THAN THREE SYSTEM DAYS WITHOUT RESUPPLY OR EXTRACTION.

[PELOMAT HQ] GROUND FORCES OUTNUMBERED; NEED AERIAL SUPPORT AND ORDNANCE DROPS, OR WE RISK TOTAL LOSS OF DEFENCES.

[AVILES PRIME HQ] ARTILLERY UNITS OVERRUN; REQUESTING EXTRACTION AND REDEPLOYMENT TO SAFER SECTORS.

Frantic messages poured through the din, a steady stream of urgent updates that began to overlap, voices merging into a panicked cacophony. The compartment buzzed with the frantic pace of fresh alerts–and responses; each one detailing more deployments, more fleets, more worlds falling under the weight of invasion. She could feel the tension coiling tighter, escalating from the sluggish, dull exhaustion of days gone without sleep into something sharp, bristling and electric.

[GALLAPRAXIS HQ] SEPARATIST GROUND ASSAULT INTENSIFYING; CASUALTIES MOUNTING—NEED IMMEDIATE EVAC FOR INJURED AND VULNERABLE.

[HYTHROPE HQ] PERIMETER DEFENCES FALLING BACK; ADDITIONAL ARMOUR AND INFANTRY REQUESTED TO PREVENT ENEMY BREACH.

[OOLIDI HQ] RESOURCE SHORTAGES CRITICAL; FRONTLINE FORCES LOSING MORALE—REINFORCEMENTS REQUIRED TO STABILISE POSITIONS.

[GENISERIA HQ] ENEMY FLEETS MASSING ON SYSTEM OUTSKIRTS; NEED REINFORCEMENTS TO SECURE TRADE ROUTES AND PREVENT SIEGE.

[EDAN HQ] PLANETARY SHIELDS FAILING UNDER SUSTAINED FIRE; EVACUATION OF ESSENTIAL PERSONNEL REQUIRED IMMEDIATELY.

Lieutenant Commander Fajinak looked to her, face set grim, and she knew they had nothing left to send. She swallowed down the acidic taste of helplessness down her throat, and showed none of it on her face.

“Lieutenant Commander,” Jedi Commander Esterhazy’s voice a frigid cold, her eyes reflecting hundreds of incoming reports, “Inform our troops on Jurzan that no help will be coming. Independent action has been authorised, and they are allowed to surrender or fight at their own discretion. We do not have the resources to spare.”

“…Very well, sir.”

How many lives of the 338th Armoured Corps and other units fighting on Jurzan had she just written off? She didn’t dwell on the thought, waving it farewell with the vague hope that the Separatist commander on the planet was more sympathetic than their General.

“General Skywalker’s on the comms, Commander!” a comms officer announced.

Commander Esterhazy’s fist immediately slammed down on the push– “General Skywalker, this is Wroona Command. I need a status report of your front on Vandelhelm!”

“Wroona Command,” Skywalker’s cadence was rock solid, “We are engaged in a stalemate with the Separatist forces on the planet. Little progress has been made on either side.”

Scout shared a look with her XO, “Acknowledged, General Skywalker. It appears the Confederate Fourth Fleet have launched their ninth all-out attack at Wroona. The central vector of their offensive is focused Coreward of the Harrin Trade Corridor. Over a dozen contested systems are threatened by the invasion. We must shorten the front.”

“…Is that your honest evaluation of the situation, Commander?” there was a ghastly wind howling in the background, punctuated by distant explosions.

Commander Esterhazy swallowed thickly, “It is. We need to liquidate any salients that endanger the structural integrity of the front. The Separatists are running out of resources too–that is why they are only attacking along the Harrin Corridor. They need us overextended to advance.”

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“Then where will you have us, Commander?”

She breathed out, “The Five-Oh-First Legion will be redeployed to the Lohopa System one thousand parsecs east of Vandelhelm. This is where we must stop the Separatists.”

“Clone Commander A’din’s Seventh Legion holds Lohopa-Two,” General Skywalker recognised

“It is the only world fortified enough to halt the Separatist advance,” she explained.

“So you have decided to liquidate the Jurzan and Hythrope salients,” General Skywalker murmured, and Scout involuntarily tensed at her Master’s incoming judgement, “…Sounds good to me. I will inform General Ry-Gaul of the development. Demand more warships from General Grant and reinforce your position at Wroona; Lohopa-Two is no fortress world, and an invasion fleet or two slipping to Wroona is a foregone conclusion.”

“Understood, General.”

She could see it unfolding now, the slow-motion horror of a coordinated assault reaching across the map in blood-red tendrils. Her hands shook slightly as she leaned forward, bracing against the holotable to study the flashing icons, her mind in a race against the advancing Separatist warfleets. Commander Esterhazy has lived this life eight times before; each sector falling back leaving a void that seemed impossible to fill, each plea for aid was a reminder of the enemies bearing down upon her, tightening like a vice around Wroona.

“General Secura is also fighting on Derra-Four, maintaining the Mikaster salient,” he continued, “Have her withdraw her forces to Lohopa and rendezvous with me there.”

“Understood, General,” the Jedi Commander pressed her palms down on the edges of the holotable to anchor herself, looking towards her second. “Contact General Secura now!” she hissed.

“We can’t!” Fajinak hissed back, cajoling a nearby comms chief for an answer, “Derra Command isn’t responding!”

Scout felt her stomach twist. Derra IV is too far out, and the Mikaster salient is too overextended. The closest allied armies are at Armath and Atrakus, and both are already holding on a knife’s edge as it is.

“Can we directly contact General Secura’s forward base?” Commander Esterhazy demanded, “What about Marshal Commander Bly!?”