Chapter 82

Phindar Approach, Phindar System

Demetras Sector

One of the original hurdles the Confederacy of Independent Systems had to overcome was its decentralisation. At the outbreak of the war, the Confederacy was split into four different theatres, none of which possessed direct hyperlane connections with each other. As Raxus Secundus blundered through the opening stages of the conflict, the unorganised Confederate fleets lacked the impetus to form a unified front, in large part due to the unfortunate nature of the divorced state.

Operation Sidestep was the first concerted effort to change that nature. Confederate Generals Sev’rance Tann and Grievous spearheaded a two-front assault in the south, carving their way through Loyalist held spacelanes and successfully linking three of the four great theatres and establishing vital logistic routes to the far-flung western corners of the Confederacy’s vast war.

Buoyed by the success of Operation Sidestep, Raxus Secundus authorised the last of the great ‘unification offensives’ in the hopes of establishing a direct hyperlane connection with the second largest theatre in the New Territories. A similarly two-pronged assault sailed down both ends of the Salin Corridor, led by Confederate Admiral Kirst and Commander Drogen Hosh, thrusted by Sidestep’s momentum and eager for a quick and decisive victory.

And Phindar readied her fleets, marshalled her armies, levelled her guns, and turned the Phindar Star System into a cosmic graveyard.

That was the Confederacy’s first attack on the sole Loyalist stronghold straddling the Salin Corridor, Phindar, and the results of that battle engraved Phindar’s legendary status into the psyche of all Confederate officers. Once thought to be an isolated and ill-defended backwater world in the Outer Rim, Phindar was now known to the galaxy as the fortress world Phindar.

That was two years ago.

Soon afterwards, the Republic’s Operation Trident shattered any remaining dreams of unifying the Confederate state, and that defeat at Phindar left lasting consequences on the budding Separatist Alliance. For one, the New Territories were irrevocably divided from the rest of the country, preventing Raxus Secundus’ influence from spreading whilst allowing Serenno to dig in its roots, ultimately leading to this bloody schism that gripped the Confederacy today.

Nevertheless, that dream of unification revived with the overture of Operation Starlance, as the Republic summoned its fleets back to defend the Core. With Operation Storm-Door, a second attack on Phindar was planned, this time to be undertaken by Confederate Admiral Trench and Rear Admiral Merai, with nearly twice the number of warships brought in the first attempt.

And Phindar readied her fleets, marshalled her armies, levelled her guns, and turned the Phindar Star System into a cosmic graveyard.

That was a year ago.

“So that’s fortress world Phindar,” Rear Admiral Diedrich Greyshade of the Twenty-Eighth Mobile Fleet murmured.

And now Admiral Trench has returned to the site of the Confederacy’s greatest failure, with nearly twice the number of warships brought in the second attempt. Invincible cruised forth like a leviathan from her nest, a thousand warships awaiting her command. To her port, the painted warships of the Perlemian Coalition held the left flank, anchored by the glimmering Kronprinz. To her starboard, the battle-hardened veterans of the north, fresh off their recent victories in Calamari Space led by Prosperous.

Three-thousand warships of the Confederate 2nd Fleet Group, and Trench would rather lose none of them to the fortress ahead.

“This is my second time here,” Rear Admiral Merai said bitterly, “And that station continues to haunt me yet.”

As it does I, Trench thought grimly. Fortress world Phindar’s primary strength, aside from the powerful interdiction nexus housed within the system, lay in its eponymously named orbital battlestation: Phindar Station. Once a bustling spaceport teeming with trade transiting the Salin Corridor, the station had been reforged by the Grand Army of the Republic into an impregnable fortress. Its once-sprawling berths, designed for merchantmen and passenger liners, had been repurposed into vast hangars capable of launching swarms of starfighters. The luxurious lounges, where traders had once struck deals over drinks, were now austere barracks filled with hardened marines awaiting deployment.

Even its once-pristine observation portholes, meant to provide breathtaking views of the stars, had been bricked over and converted into gunports, their purpose now to unleash devastation on any who dared trespass into its orbit. Every square inch of the station’s massive structure had been pressed into service, crammed with turbolasers, point-defence arrays, missile racks, and heavy naval cannons.

“We’ve brought enough ships this time to overcome Phindar by sheer numbers alone,” Admiral Greyshade assessed, “Phindar Station cannot be everywhere at once. We identify the exact location of the interdiction nexus on Phindar, and the Twenty-Eighth Mobile will act as a strikeforce to destroy it. The Second Fleet will occupy Phindar Station’s attention in the meantime.”

“The losses will be heavy,” Trench visualised the 2nd Attack on Phindar, and the horrors that laid ahead in the battlestation’s weapon envelopes. He could only imagine what a terrifyingly unpleasant surprise the 1st Attack on Phindar must have been for Kirst and Drogen Hosh.

“We’ve brought a surprise of our own as well, Admiral,” Admiral Merai suggested, “Malevolence and Aggressor are ready for deployment. Either of them can render Phindar Station defenceless with a single shot.”

Indeed, far in the rear of the 2nd Fleet Group and far out of sight, were their two superweapons. Malevolence, who made her debut in the Battle of Columex, could completely knock out Phindar’s defence grid with her massive ion cannon; whilst Aggressor could destroy Phindar Station completely with her gravitic waveguns.

However…

“I do not wish to reveal our aces so early, if at all possible,” Trench said, “I would like to parley with the commanding officer of Phindar Station, if only to share a conversation the man who has so readily repulsed the might of the Confederacy time and time again.”

Trench’s two vassal admirals failed to respond in a timely manner, their hesitation betraying their scepticism toward the practicality of their superior’s intentions. The strategic calculus had shifted significantly; the 2nd Fleet Group had more than enough firepower to overwhelm Phindar. Why, then, was Admiral Trench intent on contriving some form of agreement with the Republic commander? Their silence spoke volumes about their doubts.

The truth of the matter was simple: Admiral Trench wished to delay the usage of his aces until the alternative was no longer possible. Trench was determined to delay the deployment of his trump cards until absolutely necessary. Superweapons, for all their devastating potential, carried inherent vulnerabilities. Their scarcity and symbolic value meant they were magnets for enemy attention. No matter the size of the escorting fleet or the density of point-defence systems, a superweapon would always be the priority target number one.

Admiral Trench had studied this reality extensively, analysing the dichotomy of value and risk such weapons posed. His conclusions were as such: there were only two scenarios in which a superweapon could justify its own cost.

The first was for the weapon to systematically obliterate enough enemy assets to offset its own exorbitant expense. However, this approach carried a fatal flaw. With every victory, the weapon’s existence became more exposed, its operational secrets more vulnerable. The longer it remained active, the higher the likelihood of its destruction before it could recoup its cost.

The second was to hold the weapon in reserve until the perfect moment presented itself–a singular, decisive moment where its use would either secure an otherwise unattainable victory or irrevocably shift the tide of war. In this scenario, secrecy became the weapon’s most vital armour. So long as its existence remained shrouded, it could strike with maximum impact before vanishing once more into obscurity.

Ultimately, Trench calculated, a superweapon’s greatest defence was not its structure, or escorts, but the secrecy of its existence. This doctrine was proven at the Battle of Columex.

This was precisely why Malevolence, despite her dramatic reveal at Columex, had not been hunted to destruction. Malevolence demonstrated her worth by turning the tide of the battle–and the war–at Columex, but the moment the battle concluded, Malevolence once more disappeared into the labyrinth of military bureaucracy. Buried in classified files and disinformation campaigns, and without anymore prominent appearances, she faded from public consciousness. Republic Intelligence had made an initial push to locate and neutralise her, but the CAF’s refusal to bring her to the forefront again had rendered those efforts futile.

A superweapon must only be used where there were no other alternatives, in a moment at which only it could achieve the strategic goal. Malevolence turning the battle at Columex was a feat only she could do, and worth far more than a thousand GAR supply fleets sunk, especially when conventional raiding fleets could do the same.

If Admiral Trench could bring his warfleet through Phindar without using his superweapons, then the deployment of those superweapons in the moment could never be justified.

“Communications,” Trench resolved his intentions, “Send a transmission to Phindar Station, disclosing my insistence on a peaceful parley.”

“Roger roger…” the droid trailed off, “Uh– sir? We’re getting an incoming transmission from… somewhere?”

Trench whirled around, mandibles snapping in irritation, “Somewhere?”

“It’s coming from a ship, sir,” the droid scratched its faceplate, “But there’s no callsign or transponder code. Should we put it through?”

Trench paused. A direct long-range transmission without an open frequency could only mean the sender not only knew Invincible’s transceiver code, but was also integrated into the CAF’s communications network.

“Patch it through.”

“Roger roger!” the droid chirped hastily.

Trench did not expect the sender, to say the least.

“Admiral Trench,” Rain Bonteri’s voice greeted him, “I consider it a miracle that I was able to reach you.”

“…As do I,” the Harch Admiral responded in kind, “Might I remind you that the nature of your mission is of total secrecy?”

“You need not, Admiral. I am acting in total secrecy,” Trench could somehow see Bonteri’s smirk on the other side, “Unless, of course, you are able to extrapolate from where exactly I am sending this transmission.”

“I am unable,” Trench allowed, “Nor shall I ask your methods in the interest of said secrecy. But I must insist that the nature of this communique be severe.”

“I have no interest in being punished for breaching radio silence without good reason,” Admiral Bonteri mollified, “This is a matter of utmost importance, I assure you.”

“Indeed? Then I am listening.”

“The Republic has launched an all-out assault on Serenno,” Bonteri explained, “They call it the Jedi Expeditionary Fleet, and it numbers ten-thousand ships in total. They intend on reenacting Operation Trident, replacing the Perlemian with the Hydian Way.”

“This is from PRIESTESS?”

“It is,” he continued, “In unrelated news, a rogue faction in the Republic, led by a handful of rogue Jedi, intends on launching a coup against the current administration on Coruscant.”

“…Severe news indeed,” Trench clicked, claws curling around his cane.

“The reason for which I seek your judgement: Conqueress is at an impasse. We could continue to Gravlex Med via the Veragi Trade Route, but we would not return before the campaign is over. If you intend on Conqueress participating in the Supreme Commander’s objectives, then you must order me to abort the mission and head for Celanon at once.”

Trench rose to his full height, never once losing sight of his objectives, “At this moment, Admiral, I stand before fortress world Phindar with three-thousand warships.”

“If you shatter Phindar immediately, you could hope to intercept the Expeditionary Fleet,” Bonteri mused, “But that depends on Star Station Independence’s wishes. You could wait, and allow Serenno and Coruscant to bloody themselves against each other before sweeping up the remnants. Or, you could side with one faction against the other. I know not what our Supreme Commander wants.”

“Our Supreme Commander wants peace,” Trench answered, “Peace and stability to solidify her position amidst Raxus’ constant ebb and flow.”

“Then we must eliminate her only rival, Count Dooku.”

Trench nodded, “We will side with the Jedi.”

“In that case…” Admiral Bonteri paused, “If the commander of Phindar’s garrison is a Jedi, then I may have a way to open their gates. But first, your orders sir?”

Trench did not linger on his decision, “Is Conqueress fully operational?”

“Not fully, but operational.”

“You will not continue to Gravlex Med, nor will you return to Celanon,” Trench commanded, “You will wait. You will wait until a most opportune moment, in which the deployment of Conqueress can turn the conflict in our favour, and only then will you enter battle. If I cannot trust your judgement on this matter, then I can trust your strategic instinct.”

“You think too highly of me, Admiral,” Rain Bonteri sighed, “Far too highly… but I understand. Your orders have been received, Admiral.”

“Very good,” Trench chittered in satisfaction, “Now tell me this method you have devised to seduce the enemy.”

“This will only work if the commander is a Jedi,” he warned, “But if so, then keep this channel open as I send you a manifesto. This is what you should do…”

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Admiral Trench listened in silence, his six unblinking eyes fixed on Phindar, every trace of emotion concealed behind the impenetrable mask of his inhuman visage. As Bonteri outlined his plan in deliberate, measured tones, the old Harch Admiral found himself reflecting on Sev’rance Tann’s glaring misjudgment of character. Brilliant in the arts of war though she was, she lacked the keen intuition required to read people, a deficiency Trench found both amusing and unsurprising. Politics was the domain of character and subtlety, and Sev’rance Tann had little patience for either.

She had described Rain Bonteri as a viper, Calli Trilm as a spider–apt enough metaphors on the surface. But as Trench dissected Bonteri’s proposal, unravelling the intricate threads that hinted at deeper, unseen schemes, it became abundantly clear that the exiled lord of Onderon was no more the viper than he was the spider, weaving an elaborate web of machinations. Bonteri, naturally, cloaked his true designs behind a facade of ignorance and carefully rationed information. Yet Trench, old and experienced in schemes himself, could see the truth glinting between the strands. After all, was he not a spider himself?

Since when, Trench found himself wondering, have you been spinning your web to tear the Republic apart from within?

Was this part of the Supreme Commander’s grand contingency plan? He doubted it. Had it been, she would not have reacted so precipitously to Dooku’s mad rebellion. Panic had driven her actions, not the calm assurance of one holding a hidden trump card. No, whatever game Bonteri was playing, it was his own, a gambit independent of the Pantoran’s designs–and one that Trench suspected had been in motion far longer than anyone realised.

“It is risky, but sound in sense,” Trench allowed at last, “I will hearken your advice as I speak to the enemy commander.”

“This will all be for nothing if the Supreme Commander cannot image where and when the war ends,” Rain Bonteri warned, “There is no point in war without purpose.”

“Admiral Bonteri,” Trench measured the name carefully, “From the very start, as soldiers of this state, we have loaded ourselves into the chamber of this Confederacy. We would not have done so if we were uncertain of the finger pulling the trigger.”

“Admiral Trench,” Bonteri measured his name carefully, “I fear the owner of that finger has changed, and the purpose of pulling the trigger changed with it. We are indeed but ammunition to be expended, but even a bullet would like to know their destination.”

“Is that all?”

“I will take my leave.”

“As you should.”

Trench held his stance even as a click notified him of the disconnection. He turned to the comms droid.

“Has the enemy commander responded?”

“Yes, sir,” the droid saluted, “But… uh–”

“They have a condition, I presume?”

“Yes,” the droid nodded quickly, “They will only speak to you in-person aboard Phindar Station.”

Admiral Trench did not have to expend effort imagining the protests of his subordinate admirals and officers. He levelled six red eyes against Phindar Station, and imagined the man he was about to meet instead.

“That is…” he clicked, “…acceptable.”

⁂

“I am General Rahm Kota of the Grand Army of the Republic,” General Rahm Kota greeted Admiral Trench as he descended the shuttle’s ramp, standing firm on the deck of Phindar Station’s hangar bay, “You are Admiral Trench of the Separatist Alliance.”

“I prefer the Confederacy of Independent Systems,” Admiral Trench made no effort to disguise his blatant curiosity as he scanned the interior of Phindar Station, “I greet you as a capable and respected opponent, from whom I seek peace.”

“You speak of peace,” General Rahm Kota spoke harshly, “Whilst making plans to crush me.”

Trench’s cybernetics were indeed more than capable of analysing the hardpoints and combat potential of Phindar Station as the Harh quite literally internalised the visual and scan data from his brief examination.

“As is my duty,” Trench extended an arm as he approached the Republic General, “For until we have spoken of peace, we are at war.”