Chapter 90

Serenno Orbit, Serenno System

D’Astan Sector

Contrary to expectations, Count Dooku’s fleet made the first move, with the Serennian Security Forces promptly lunging into action and leading the way for the rest of the auxiliary northern Separatists to follow. In rapid response, the flagship of General Mace Windu, Endurance, called for an immediate advance forthwith. Drive cones exploded onto the plots in a thick haze of light and gas as thousands of warships hurtled towards each other.

At his vantage point in the rear, Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi could only hide the growing sensation of disconcert building in his chest. Master Plo Koon’s battle strategy was all but a direct reproduction of that he performed at the Battle of Metalorn, one of the most studied engagements of the Perlemian Campaign. The problem with using the same strategy every time is of course that the enemy will always formulate counters to it, and he had a feeling this time will be no exception.

What made the arrowhead formation at Metalorn so effective was the use of battle meditation to unify man and machine across hundreds of warships. Here however, there were thousands of warships, enough so that a boy atop the mountainpeaks of Serenno could look to the night sky and trace the shining constellations of battle. The only Jedi Master ever known to possess such an ability of the magnitude necessary to so effectively command a fleet of this size via battle meditation was Oppo Rancisis–and Master Rancisis was killed-in-action at Columex.

As for Master Plo Koon–

Plo Koon was absent, still transiting the Hydian Way and enroute to the battlefield, having been the last battle group to depart from the freshly taken Botajef.

“Master, they’re faking,” Ahsoka observed, watching the front ranks of the Separatist line of battle heel hard to port and present broadsides.

A moment later, the holographic plots were awash with glaring red exclamation marks and hundreds of thousands of torpedoes thundered towards them. Despite being stationed in the rearguard of the warfleet, no sane man could so easily shrug off the natural fear that came with haplessly following the incoming vectors of multi-megaton warheads screaming for destruction. They were watching the Separatist massed-missile barrage doctrine at its finest.

The Republic Navy’s armoured vanguard responded in kind, Tector-class battleships doubling frontal shields and ejecting countermeasures–whilst Victory-class Star Destroyers punched out their own massed countermissile volleys. Lights scattered across the void as point-defense banks erupted, lasers and flak creating a wall of fire before the Expeditionary Fleet and intercepting the opening Separatist volley.

Alas, as more and more Separatist battlecruisers turned onto the line of battle, more and more torpedoes were whipped onto the plot, until it was evident Count Dooku was attempting to blunt their advance using the same strategy the Perlemian Coalition exercised at the Battle of Centares. By launching wave after wave of torpedoes, they were forcing the Expeditionary Fleet to slow down in order to intercept them, thus sapping them of the momentum crucial to the arrowhead formation’s success.

Not that Obi-Wan could do anything about it. He was a Jedi General, but Jedi Generals were dime a dozen among the Expeditionary Fleet. It was difficult enough trying to wrangle the different factions of the war council into a coherent battle strategy–which ended up with the adoption of the arrowhead formation due to its inherent simplicity and battle-tested record.

“General,” Admiral Block sauntered up the pilothouse, “I’d recommend sending some of our ships to reinforce our starboard flank.”

“That would put the integrity of the greater formation at risk,” he rightly pointed out.

“Count Dooku has faked his line of battle to portside, traversing to our right in line ahead,” the Admiral of the Open Circle Fleet called attention to the enemy’s intentions, “We are still advancing dead ahead. Sooner or later, the Separatist battleline–traversing perpendicularly to us–will clear our firing envelopes, and will be poised to plunge into our starboard flank.”

Ahsoka, who had overheard the conversation, added her two credits; “If they do that, they’ll have our transports dead-to-rights.”

Ahsoka–who had analysed the same plans as they–was certainly correct. The heavy vanguard and rearguard meant that the sides of their arrowhead was naturally thinner, more or less acting as a funnel to push the transports through the breach when the time came. If Count Dooku was acting to prevent an invasion of his homeworld, he would definitely be seeking stratagems to render their invasion force moot by targeting the Expeditionary Fleet’s troop transports.

However, the Force tugged at his mind, as glaring as a neon warning sign. Plo Koon had explicitly ordered the Open Circle Fleet to take up the mantle of the rearguard, and to never vacate their post unless under the most dire of circumstances. He had his reasons, Obi-Wan was certain, and the Force only moved to convince of that fact.”

“I will not make that decision on my own,” General Kenobi decided, “Tightbeam the Endurance and await theirs.”

Admiral Block’s face was unreadable, “Very good, General.”

As far as relationships between Jedi and Admirals went, Obi-Wan felt that he shared a sense of mutual respect with Admiral Block. Certainly not as hot-and-cold as Anakin’s impulsiveness and Yularen’s steady caution. Obi-Wan and Block were similarly conservative as far as strategies go, and they don’t step on each other’s toes often. At times it does feel like one of them wasn’t needed, however–but when Obi-Wan was leading armies planetside, it did fill him with confidence to know Admiral Block was stewarding the Open Circle in his place.

Mace Windu, in all of his promptitude, replied swiftly. As soon as Admiral Block relayed his recommendation to the flagship, Endurance ordered the redeployment of Task Force Selfless to the starboard flank.

“Signal General Reus to break formation and reinforce starboard positions,” Admiral Block commanded crisply, “Execute upon receipt!”

Obi-Wan nodded, his mind racing as the holographic plots shifted to reflect the redeployment. The starboard flank thickened as the Selfless’ fleet peeled away from the Open Circle, her engines blazing as they moved to anticipate the Separatist maneuver. Turning such a large and inflexible formation as their arrowhead on a dime was clearly considered infeasible, and it would appear Endurance intends on barrelling dead ahead no matter what Count Dooku tries to pull.

But as the main Separatist line cleared their forward firing arcs, their absence revealed their secondary line of warships. The tactical display updated in real time, revealing the massive, circular silhouettes of hundreds of Lucrehulk-class battleships emerging from the Separatist formation. The sheer mass levied against them was imposing enough–each converted freighter fifteen times heavier than a Venator–but it was what followed that truly chilled the air on the bridge. Swarms of Vulture droids poured from the Lucrehulks’ hangars, forming a seething black cloud of destruction that surged toward the Expeditionary Fleet.

“Ahsoka!”

“Yes, Master!” Ahsoka sprang into action at her Master’s order, dashing out of the bridge as fast as her legs could take her.

“Admiral!” Obi-Wan then pivoted, “I’ll have to trouble you with the deployment of our primary combat wings.”

“Right away, General,” Admiral Block understood quickly, relaying commands to the flight bridge: “Deploy all primary combat wings! Their orders are to remain in close formation with our capital divisions and prioritise the protection of the transports!”

Within moments, the hangar bays of the Open Circle Fleet came alive. Venator-class Star Destroyers disgorged squadrons of ARC-170 starfighters, Z-95 Headhunters, and V-19 Torrents by the hundreds of thousands. Vigilance’s own complement of fighters surged forward, Ahsoka’s deep crimson Aethersprite at its point, joining the expanding Republic fighter screen orbiting around the vanguard.

Then, the main Separatist battle line smashed headfirst into the Republic right flank.

⁂

“This is the Battle Hydra’s grand stratagem?” Jedi Master Plo Koon was hunched over the holoprojection table in the heart of Hyperion’s battle room, enroute to the battlefield in the Serenno Star System.

“It is as relayed to us,” if Rear Admiral Diedrich Greyshade was any uncomfortable presenting the strategy to a room full of Republic officers, he did not show it, “As you can see, however, its execution will require the cooperation of the Expeditionary Fleet.”

It was certainly reminiscent of Rain Bonteri’s style of warfare, in which victory ought to always be found in the unpredictable and unexpected. It certainly would never have spawned from the sort of rigid thinking the Republic Navy tries to foster, nor the Confederate Navy–should the Pantoran’s educational military reforms persist as passed. At that moment, the Kel Dor Jedi Master could only wonder what it was like to possess the Battle Hydra’s mind.

“…We owe you Master Luminara’s life,” Plo Koon finally decided, “You will have my cooperation, that I guarantee.”

“Master, they could be holding Master Luminara hostage,” Jedi Knight Lissarkh hissed.

“For what purpose?” the Jedi Master queried, “We no longer live in the days when the lives of Jedi Knights and Masters held momentous value; we have cheapened ourselves by taking to war. Hostage or otherwise, a life saved is valuable in of itself, especially when that life should be in the Force otherwise. That Admiral Bonteri saved Master Luminara’s life when he had a choice not to is reason enough to consider his means.”

“That said, Master Plo,” Knight Bultar Swan reminded, “We would not need this stratagem if Master Windu successfully executes our original plan. And if he does not, we can still exhaust our back-up plans.”

“Indeed, Knight Swan,” Plo Koon’s claws scratched his chin, “The stars burn brightly if the best-case scenario occurs, and we wouldn’t have to treat with the Separatists. But I consider this alternative preferable to our back-up plans, especially in terms of haste and lives saved. Would you not agree?”

“They could be aiming to destroy both our and Dooku’s fleets at the same time,” Lissarkh sibilated coldly, her suspicion evident, “They have reason to; two birdsss with one ssstone. Then, they can siege Serenno at their leisure, with all of their enemiesss defeated.”

Around them, many of the officers nodded their heads in agreement. Despite all things, years of constant war have engraved in them a deep hatred of Separatists, and most still did not see the differences in ideology between factions. Just as an Outer Rimmer couldn’t care less about the difference between a democrat and autocrat in the Core, men of the Republic consider the Separatist Alliance a monolith. Many Jedi too have fallen victim to such untoward thought, especially with all the hate and indoctrination swirling the Republic HoloNet.

Plo Koon had lived through enough battles and wars to know better. Whether he was fighting the disenchanted Stark Collective of the Stark Hyperspace War or the embittered Separatist Alliance of the Galactic Civil War, his enemies were still citizens of the galaxy. Hate is beget by hate, and trust can only be reciprocated when trust is extended.

“You may be right,” he admitted anyway, because that is the truth, and so he turned to the patiently waiting Columexi, “Admiral Greyshade, my subordinates have raised relevant concerns. How can you assure us of your intentions?”

The hologram shivered, its blue-scanned illusion briefly scattering as Hyperion was struck by a rogue scramble. In the distance, the silver pearl of Serenno glimmered dully, the raging battle on the artificial horizon like an approaching thunderhead.

“We have everything to gain from this cooperation, and nothing to lose from its dissolution,” Diedrich Greyshade appealed, “You, however, have everything to gain, and everything to lose. As we speak, the Second Confederate Fleet approaches, led by the only Admiral Trench. So easily, we can enter the battlefield as a third party and sweep both you and Dooku into Wild Space. If we wanted to destroy all of you, as the Trandoshan says, we need not ask your permission, do we?”

The message was clear. If you do not agree to cooperate, then we have no choice but to do exactly as you suspicioned us to do.

“So this agreement is more beneficial to Raxus Secundus?” Bultar Swan questioned.

“No!” Admiral Greyshade snapped, “It will be more beneficial for us to kill two birds with one stone, and wipe all of you out of existence!”

But we are not, his eyes burned, and that is reason enough for you to believe us.

“…I find myself suitably convinced,” Master Plo Koon crossed his arms.

“The hunter toying with his prey,” Lissarkh snarled, “To dance is to live, but better to be a coward with a pulse than a martyr with a grave.”

A round of begrudging agreement rippled through the battle room, the rational minds of Hyperion’s high command coming to the same conclusion that they were all dancing on the palm of the Old Spider’s hand. If this was their best bet of getting the Battle of Serenno over with and forging a lasting peace with the Confederacy, then so be it. Plo Koon had enough influence to curate who crewed his task force, and naturally filled TF Hyperion’s ranks with those predisposed to the secessionist conspiracy.

“Then we are in agreement,” he announced, “Admiral Greyshade, you may inform your superiors we will act in accordance to the Battle Hydra’s stratagem.”

The Columexi Admiral smiled thinly, “That is pleasing to hear, Master Jedi. You may await the Aggressor’s insertion momentarily.”

The connection was severed, just in time for another stray scramble to strike Hyperion’s comms.

“Aggressor?” an officer mused, “Is that the name of their superweapon?”

“We must act quickly,” Plo Koon informed everybody in the battle room, “The window to act is shrinking, and will disappear the moment the Aggressor makes itself known. We must adjust the battlefield exactly to the strategem’s likeness.”

“Playing into the Ssseparatist hand,” Lissarkh grumbled.

“We will not die a coward’s death,” her former Master told her.

“Ssso we still might die a martyr’s?”

As Hyperion sped towards the battlespace, the lines of Plo Koon’s leathery skin deepened, “Possibly.”

“Encouraging.”

As they approached, the battle began incrementally appearing on the holographic plots, sprawled across the void, a vast and terrible mural of destruction. The pearl-like glow of the planet loomed large in the distance, its surface alive with the fiery lances of planetary defense batteries. Between the Republic fleet and Serenno stretched a hellscape of dueling warships, starfighter swarms, and Separatist Lucrehulks vomiting endless waves of droid fighters into the fray.

As Task Force Hyperion’s sensors calibrated onto the battle, information began to flood in, her comms relays struggling to get a fix on a friendly frequency in the chaotic struggle. At the center of the battle room, the holographic tactical plot casting blue light across his alien features, Plo Koon listened to officers barking orders and reports, their voices underscored by the faint hum of the ship’s engines and the occasional distant tremor of incoming fire rattling off the hull.

The rigid arrowhead of the Expeditionary Fleet formation was apparent as it struggled to punch a hole through the Serennian Lucrehulks, its armoured vanguard completely inundated by wave after wave of enemy starfighters. On their starboard, a massive line of Separatist battlecruisers were heading along a reciprocal vector relative to the Expeditionary Fleet, and were belching broadside after broadside of missiles into the Republic right flank.

And on the opposite flank, without the risk of friendly fire present, Serenno’s mountainside batteries had come into range, beams of concentrated energy lanced out from the planet below, cutting through the blackness of space with terrifying precision. The destruction of a Republic cruiser on the open left flank was on full display to Hyperion, its shields crumpling under the sustained fire. The ship’s hull crumpled inward as the beam tore through it, igniting the atmosphere within and reducing the vessel to a fiery husk. More beams followed, striking capital ships with devastating accuracy.

“Master, we managed to secure a tightbeam to the Vigilance!” Bultar Swan shouted from behind him.

“Quickly now!” Plo Koon raising his voice was a rare occurrence, but this was one of the few situations that warranted the urgency.

“Oh, stars aligned!” Obi-Wan Kenobi’s voice was awash with relief, “Master Plo, you’ve arrived! As you can evidently see, Count Dooku’s forces are countering us expertly. They’re targeting our transports, and we’ve been forced to bleed our momentum in order to prevent that catastrophe.”

“Count Dooku hasn’t yet raised Serenno’s shields, I presume?”

“Considering how his surface-to-orbit artillery is blasting away unimpeded, I would hope not!”

“Good. We can still salvage this,” Jedi Master Plo Koon took a deep breath, expanding his mind to the Force, “Secure me a relay to the rest of the fleet, Obi-Wan. I will take it from here.”

“Gladly, Master Plo.”

“Bultar, Lissarkh,” the Jedi Master summoned his two apprentices, and they stood around him, already expectant of his intentions. The entire battle room unnaturally quietened, as if in anticipation.

“You’re patched into the fleet channel, General,” the comms officer whispered.

Plo Koon nodded his thanks, and took a deep breath.

“To all vessels of the Expeditionary Fleet, this is High Jedi General Plo Koon speaking,” he declared to over two-thousand warships, “I will henceforth be assuming overall of the fleet. Standby for orders, and execute them promptly upon receipt. Let us achieve victory in one decisive blow, together.”

Together.

Together.

Together.

TOGETHER.

At that very moment, a cacophony of emotions radiating from the pilots and crews across the fleet struck the Jedi Master like a thousand stabbing knives. Fear, determination, and pain rippled through the currents, each thread pulling his mind in different directions. He centred himself, tugging back at those threads and stilling their vibrating, panicked tremble with enforced calm. The easiest threads to knit were of his crew, those standing around him–then came the spacers and captains of TF Hyperion, all willingly tied around the needle with which he knit a grand tapestry of war.

This would be his greatest work yet.

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Plo Koon felt the turmoil in the Force, a vast and writhing sea of slaughter. The deaths of Republic and Separatist soldiers alike rippled through him, a relentless tide of life snuffed out.

And so he touched the suffering, soothed the desperate, calmed the panicked, encouraged the fearing, and tamed the brave. Each and every thread pulled at him, and he pulled them back, the Force as his needle. Each thread of emotion was a strand in the tapestry, and he took them one by one, tying the frayed edges, knitting them together with the quiet strength of his will.

The officers on the bridge stilled as his aura of calm swept over them first. Fear ebbed from their minds, replaced with purpose. Their voices, once tinged with suspicion and uncertainty, became measured and resolute as they relayed orders. Then came the gunners, sweating as they worked their stations, feeling the tremor leave their hands. The pilots, gripping their controls with white-knuckled intensity, released the tension in their shoulders.

The picture grew larger, more intricate, as the Jedi Master extended his reach. Across the Expeditionary Fleet, he felt the minds of thousands–no, millions–each one a thread of its own. The frantic chaos of the Vigilance’s bridge, where Obi-Wan Kenobi’s presence burned like a steady flame, became part of the weave. The fear of a young ARC-170 pilot, flying into the swarm of Vulture droids, was consoled as she felt the reassuring touch in her mind.

The captains of the heavy cruisers and Star Destroyers felt the weight of command lighten as clarity replaced indecision. Their vessels began to move in perfect synchronization, the arrowhead formation tightening and sharpening like the point of a spear.

And then, it began to revolve.