It is a very different kind of room where the leadership of the Rebel Intelligence Brigade meet compared to the previous ones. A side room with various bugs and monitoring systems removed or gutted, only two droids present to make notes and take the minutes the only possible source outside of the men present. The minutes would be censored and doctored soon enough, except for my personal secret copy which I had instructed R4 to keep and eventually store within a secret safe I had rigged to explode if I didn’t personally send it an all clear code every couple days.

  Brigadier General Green, the recently promoted commanding officer of the new Intelligence Brigade took center stage on the circular table. Major General Bvinsk, smoking a cigarette as he looks over a datapad, was the second man overseeing our nascent Intelligence arm’s supply needs until something more permanent could be set up. General Krugwolt taking up temporary ownership of the third seat reserved for the eventual commandos and special operations chief of the Brigade and my own person taking the fourth seat as the Head of Operations within this council of rebels.

  Technically I had another seat and vote due to the contract informants I had through my pirate friends, but we had all agreed to overlook that unless I was removed from office, or managed to get someone to take over on that department.

  “So.” Green begins, bringing his fingers through his green hair as he starts, “We’ve incorporated the Agents Solomahal left us, the Marshal’s Agents that went to ground on our orders, the spies and informants Organa’s gifted us and the various occasional informants into the Brigade’s structure. Not sure how well it’ll work, keeping this in a military structure, but as long as everyone passes intel up to us and don’t interact with one another unless we order it, the structure should be stable and relatively breach proof.”

  “The privateers are providing decent intel so far. I’ve permitted them to reach out and pass along the offer of privateering and intel purchasing to any of their friends.” I offer.

  “We still need to train up a commando unit.” Krugwolt says, “SpecOps are not to be underestimated, even if they leave a bad taste in our mouths.”

  “An informant on Ord Mantel hinted they may have some people willing to take on a training mission.” Green reveals, “Nothing solid, but it’s looking good.”

  “Alright, take your pick form the Volunteers we approved of.” Bvinsk orders, tapping off some of the ash into a tray as he does, “Best get this started quick.”

  “Very good.” Green says, “I’d like to begin an assassination platoon as well, to purpose built to begin removing mid level Imperial officers, ISB investigators, Imperial Intelligence infiltrators and anyone dangerous we may need removed.”

  “Is it wise to stoop to assassination?” Krugwolt asks, “We may be lowering ourselves to their level.”

  “They’ve already assassinated multiple outspoken Senators and openly permitted the torture of prisoners to gather intel.” I counter, “Offing a couple soldiers in return doesn’t sound that bad to me.”

  “As long as it’s only soldiers and those acting against us.” Bvinsk cautions, “We do not kill children and innocents.”

  “Sounds reasonable.” I agree.

  “Fair’s fair.” Krugwolt grumbles slightly in agreement.

  “Very good, next topic?” Green asks.

  “We are not doing terrorism.” Krugwolt replies to a series of groans and sounds of agreement.

  I waltz onto my bridge and feel like I’m finally home again. The couple days spent working through everything, setting up high command and its checks and balances. Ensuring that no one, especially not my own person, could tear power to themselves and cause a split in the rebels. We had a job to do after all. We couldn’t allow ourselves to be divided. Not now, not with the entire galaxy against us.

  “Ship ready and awaiting orders, sir.” Mi-Kus says.

  “All ships ready?” I ask.

  “Them, the 53rd and the 17th, sir.” Mi-Kus replies.

  “What of Fortress Squadron?” I ask.

  “Rear Admiral Baraka reports all hands ready.”

  “Very well. Let’s blow this four times cursed system. All ships, jump!” I order.

  One by one our ships enter hyperspace, first the small pickets and corvettes, then the battleships, be they Star Cruiser, Venator or Corellian Destroyer, then the light cruisers and finally the Little Revenge and the rest of our cruisers join them in hyperspace. A considerable force all things said, yet still a small drop in the bucket compared to the Imperial Navy’s might.

  “Maker keep us.” I mutter to myself as hyperspace swirls and the fate of the galaxy once more hangs in the balance.

  What would those ancient heroes say who fought against the last time the Republic turned tyrannical? What would Tarsus Valorum think of this galaxy once more embroiled in war? If he had known, would he have done something differently? What would the father of the Navy, the honored and revered Senior Fleet Admiral Pers Pradeux think of another humano-centrist Empire subsuming the Republic? Would he have approved of the actions taken over Coruscant? Would he have cautioned patience and demanded we wait until we had the deck stacked for certain? Or would the arbiter of the Pius Dea’s defeat and exile from power have jumped with even more aggression than we had at the infant Empire.

  I let out a sigh, Maker keep me from my ruminations, I had a war to win.

  I take a closer look at the tactical display as we exit hyperspace. Hm, looks like the garrison was reinforced, but they didn’t even bother preparing the field.

  “Sloppy.” I mutter. If those officers had remained under my command I would have given them a dressing down worthy of my reputation.

  “They’re clearly overconfident.” Mi-Kus agrees.

  Three Imperials, two Tectors at the center of the enemy formation. Six Dreadnoughts anchoring their flanks with two Nebulons, two Arquitenses and four Gozantis spread throughout their formation to act as pickets. A sizable force, though lacking in a few departments. Seems the loss of the 28th Battleship did more to scare Moff Therbon than I had thought, especially if he’s deploying so many new warships here to make up for the absence of five experienced Venators. A new Tector, another Imperial, the Nebulons and two Dreadnoughts were nothing to scoff at, it was enough to take on some of the larger Separatist holdouts within and around the Tion Cluster. Interesting that they were then being deployed here rather than there.

  “Launch strikecraft and keep them in reserve. I’d have the Pride of Ruisto take the center alongside our Dreadnoughts. I want the Venators and Acclamators in our second line and our Fondorians to take the right, make sure their Dreadnoughts are what link the center to them, while the Constellation and the Corellian Comet with our Arquitenses take the left. Frigates and pickets spread throughout the formation, but I would like our DP20s to be focused around the Pride of Ruisto for focused missile barrages.” I order as my ships begin moving to obey my wishes.

  “This could force their retreat towards Pakuuni.” Mi-Kus warns gently.

  “True, but with our superior numbers and strong flanks we’ll beat them to all nine hells and back before they can escape. Rear Admiral Luxerite has the right, Admiral Sykes has the reserve, Commodore Strom has the left, Baraka is second in command for the battle and the center.” I continue. Perhaps I should make sure the enemy couldn’t retreat in the first place?

  “Load mix of anti-fighter frags and concussions.” Mi-Kus orders the battery Adjutant.

  “Enemy launching strikecraft.” Commander Welder reports.

  “Estimate?” I ask.

  “What was expected, sir. Three wings total.” The Commander replies.

  “Composition?” I ask, curious of what it might tell us of future engagements.

  “Fighters appear to consist entirely of V-Wings, bombers appear to be Y-Wings. Sir, the composition of the wings is non standard. They appear to have a ten to two ratio of fighters to bombers.”

  “That is unusual.” I admit.

  “New doctrine?” Mi-Kus suggests, “Tarkin never was one for bombers.”

  “No, he wasn’t. Preferred absolute superiority from swarms of small fighters and big battleships. Much like Fleet Admiral Honor in that way.” I say.

  “Coruscant changed many of us.” Commander Hursk agrees.

  “Both times.” I agree solemnly before returning my focus to the battle before me.

  It would probably be best to take them on at close range, sure the heavy turbolasers would do massive damage from such proximity, but they would also be slower, more clumsy. I frown, should I give the initiative to the enemy? Lure them in? I smile at the thought, yes, let’s reopen this war with something worthy of the Navy’s honor and reputation.

  “Send forward a skirmishing force. I think … Senior Captain Smalls of the 503rd Light and Planter has done enough under Faxe to do well in this. Assign him any central Arquitenses, MC30c frigates and a third of our corvettes. He is to spar with the enemy force, keep his maneuverability and shields up while taking pot shots at the enemy. Let’s see if we can lure them in, to that effect, inch our center forwards a hundred kilometers then have our flanks form a bow with our second line as the string.” I order before remembering the actual name of the tactic I rarely used, “The blunted bow.”

  “Colonel Solo reports all squadrons ready and awaiting orders.” Commander Slas reports.

  “Skirmishers advancing.”

  “And now the dance begins.” I mutter.

  Fleet Admiral Honor waltzes onto her bridge as she surveys her forces. Forty Imperials, fifteen Tectors, twenty Venators, thirty Dreadnoughts, forty Nebulons, thirty Acclamators, ten Arquitenses, ten Gozantis, a handful of Neutron Stars, not to mention her flagship for the operation. The Coruscanti Pearl, a Secutor class battlecarrier, would serve her well for this offensive. Yet this wasn’t the force she wanted, though it would have to do in bringing her foolish protege to heel. At least more ships would join them on route.

  What had Dericote been thinking anyhow? That he could simply throw in his support behind the dying remnants of the Confederacy he had so ardently fought against? That he could overthrow the Empire where the foolish traitors over Coruscant had failed? What was he on? Didn’t he see the Empire would bring order, peace and security for all? Wasn’t that what they had all fought for? Bled for? Suffered for?

  “Ships are ready ma’am.” Her new Adjunct, an ISB plant from what her friends in Imperial Intelligence had informed her, says.

  “We make for Lantillies.” She orders, observing her ships adjust their position over Anaxes for the upcoming hyperspace jump.

  “Not Columex?” Her navigator asks.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “I want to see if we can combine forces with Moff Therbon before we sally against Dericote. Coordinate on the color command level instead of throwing ourselves piecemeal at the traitors.” She replies.

  “Very well ma’am.” Her Adjunct says.

  “Jump at will.” She orders.

  One by one, dagger and cigar like ships make their jumps into hyperspace, piercing the fabric of realspace to find their destiny in the far flung reaches of the Outer Rim. Many a dagger aimed at the heart of a man she had sponsored and supported through his career. Someone she had taken a risk on when he was isolated and barely into his late twenties.

  Someone she had considered a friend.

  Honor frowns as hyperspace begins to swirl around her Coruscanti Pearl. It seemed she was loosing friend after friend. She was lucky she hadn’t been forced to loose the rest. Apparently the Emperor had been considerably close to having her executed on perceived treason. She feels her face morph into a small snarl. That was the thanks she got for serving so long. That was the thanks her once friends had foisted upon her by committing treason against their state, their Empire.

  She would prove her loyalty again. She would show that despite those around her betraying her over and over again she would hold firm. She would show that the Empire’s might is unassailable, indomitable, invincible. And if she had to kill another former friend for that? So be it. Too much of her good will had been burned over Coruscant, she might as well let the rest burn alongside it.

  “It’s almost pathetic how easily they fell for the trap.” Commander Hursk says.

  “I’m rather disappointed myself.” I reply as a heavy turbolaser smashes against our newly reinforced shields, thank the Maker for Calamari shields and their increasing experience with retrofits, “You’d think they would at least have read my dossier and prepared for my various stratagems. I mean, we practically gifted them a month to react after Mon Cala.”

  Yet the enemy had fallen into the trap hook line and sinker. Their center had converged on ours and while I slowly allowed us to be closer and closer, going so far as to enter light turbolaser and heavy laser cannon range, my wings sprung into action. The Star Destroyers were doing … fine. The continuous focus of fire upon the Pride of Ruisto was really the only reason why none of my ships had taken much damage while the Mon Cala ship seemed to be soaking up damage like a sponge, her various shields and heavy armor doing an excellent job. She had taken some bad hits, but she still stood proud, continuing to take on damage and deal it in turn while strikecraft harried the Imperial battleships.

  “Adjust our Engagement Group’s positioning to keep within the formation and continue with the encirclement.” I order.

  One by one, enemy cruisers were being picked off by focused fire. All the while Faxe’s and Luxerite’s detachments finished their encirclement and unleashed their broadsides, or frontal barrages in the case of the Fondorian Hammerheads, into the engine blocks of the Imperials. It was an obvious weakness which many ships suffered from. It just so happened, that when a ships was 1.6 kilometers long and had three massive engines alongside a handful of smaller ones, all concentrated in one place, it made for an easier target than many of their counterparts.

  “Starboard Imperial is showing signs of reactor damage already.” Welder notes.

  “Then we should be able to finish this up in time for luncheon.” I reply as a group of Y-Wings make a rather effective run on a nearby Imperial, their proton bombs smashing into the armored heavy turbolaser batteries alongside its raised dais, knocking them out of commission one by one as they race along the ship.

  “Sir, certain hostile ships are surrendering. Standard procedure?” Commander Slas reports.

  “Hostile CO procedure, I think.” I order, “Give them a cordon, but remind them that false surrender will result in the total voiding of a ship’s crew, sans space suits.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  “Detecting energy surge from starboard Imperial.” A sensors officer reports, “She’s gonna blow.”

  “All ships, maximize shields, nearby ships to lock down and brace for impact. All strikecraft to pull out of the blast-zone!” I snap.

  “Surrendered ships have made it past cordon and powered down their weapons systems and engines. They’re drifting away.”

  “Well at least they’re smart enough to keep their shields up at times like these.” Mi-Kus says.

  Just as he finishes speaking the starboard side Imperial explodes. For a moment, despite the automatic dampeners in the transparasteel windows, it looked like the ships had been replaced by a small star. The explosion spread out into the enemy formation, melting unshielded vessels’ hulls and armor as turbolasers continued to fly between the two forces.

  The Little Revenge shudders as the fires and debris wash over her shields, point defense lasers smashing the larger pieces of debris before they can smash into her or the ships alongside her. Various ships go crimson red on the tactical display, a few even going full on gray, showing the damage had not been as one sided as I would like.

  “Enemy starboard Tector and center point Imperial disabled.” Commander Hursk notes.

  “Focus fire on the remaining Imperial and Tector, starboard ships to focus fire on hostile cruisers, then work their way down. Prepare rescue ships and intelligence gathering groups.” I order, “Pull back the damaged and disabled ships with our tugs and begin assessing their damage. Prepare boarding parties for the disabled and surrendered ships as well.”

  “Roger that, sir.”

  The battle rapidly evolved into a mop up as the Constellation and Corellian Comet came alongside the remaining Imperial warships, exchanging close range proton torpedo bombardments alongside the exchange of turbolaser fire as strikecraft return to their duty of harrying the Imperial vessels. The battle was over, the Imps just hadn’t fully realized it yet.

  “So what’s the damage looking like?” I ask as the last wreckage begins being towed away.

  “The Mudpuppy’s Defiance, Liberty IX, Seedling and Hops all require in depth repairs. They’ll need to be sent back to Mintooine for it. Then we suffered medium damage on the Pride of Ruisto, two of the Fortress Squadron’s Dreadnoughts, two of our Nebulons and five other pickets. Other than that, light damage on six corvettes, an Arquitens and five Dreadnoughts.” Mi-Kus answers.

  “Strikecraft?”

  “Eleven percent losses in ships, six in crew, primarily among our Headhunters and Starchasers, though we did also lose a couple dozen Y-Wings and ARCs.” Mi-Kus lists off.

  I frown at that. We couldn’t afford to lose that many fighters and bombers: “Make a requisition request to have the lost fighters and pilots replaced asap. Have our medium damaged ships moved back to Mintooine alongside our heavily damaged ships. Once they’re all repaired they’re to rendezvous with us wherever we end up being then, have them escort the supply convoy bringing us strikecraft reinforcements, kill two winglizards with one stone.”

  “Understood, sir. Anything else?”

  “Instruct Baraka to be cautious in his negotiations with the locals. We need to win them over, now more than ever.” I order, then hesitate, “Maybe see if there are any remains of Knight Forte and his Padawan. They served the Republic well and … they deserve a proper grave.”

  “I’ll see what I can do, sir.”

  “And remind the 4th Bandomeer not to shred any B1s or B2s. We need all the manpower we can get.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  “We’ll wait until we’ve finished scouring the battlefield for intel and survivors. Then we make haste to Algor.” I order.

  “May I recommend a nap then, sir?” Mi-Kus suggests.

  I consider it a moment before nodding: “Probably wont face anything as … intense as here. Your bridge, Sykes has command.”

  “Understood, my bridge.” Mi-Kus replies easily as I march out of the bridge, R4 by my side. I could use a good nap.

  Cal had fucked up bad. He had managed to get a job taking apart ships and walkers at the Bracca recycling yards, even made a couple friends, but then he had to open his big mouth. So what if he fought in the Clone wars? Lots of people had! Sure he was young, but most of the smaller militias in Seppy space didn’t care about that, the only cared about how good you could fire a blaster, how easily you could blend in and how many rations you ate a day!

  But somehow his big mouth had let it slip he had served on multiple planets. And even the most desperate militia wouldn’t’ve taken a kid offworld and kept them on unless they were very desperate and the people ferrying them about had terrible morals. He should have just stuck with the abandoned merchant kid story, but … the blaster shooting competition had such a nice prize-pool and a decent gambling den and he had really wanted food that actually tasted nice. Force what he would have done for a GAR flavor pack for his rations, never mind the flavors were salt, chalk, the barest hint of pepper or citrus and what someone who had never tasted a hot pepper, had been given a poor description of the flavor by a spice addicted smuggler, would imagine.

  “But no, Kestis, you had to do well.” He mutters to himself as he crawls through the vents on a train, “Had to impress the Colonel looking for conscripts. Had to take him up on his offer to buy you a drink. Had to fall into the rituals of a Navy officer. Had to follow drill. Had to karking admit to serving as a Navy Adjutant, who ever heard of an alleged seventeen year old who had served as a Navy Adjutant from the beginning of the Clone wars?”

  Sure, a sixteen year old Adjutant was slightly believable, probably involving some bribes and a bit of nepotism, but a fourteen year old? Karabast! He was lucky he hadn’t been arrested then! Especially if anyone managed to get him to admit to lying about his age by two years. Instead the Imps had started watching him and one slip up of using the force to avoid being crushed by a falling engine block and they called the Inquisitorious on his ass.

  “Dammit all Kestis.” he whispers to himself as he looks out of the grates at a group of TK Stormtroopers and Clones below him. How best to do this? He still had a thermal detonator on him, he had begun carrying a few on him after he served as Admiral Dericote’s Adjutant, but should he save it or use it on the squad below?

  Master Tapal would advise caution, Admiral Dericote would stack the deck. Okay … how does he do any of that while stuck in a vent? Wait … he’s in a vent. Cal gets an evil grin and shuffles back to the last hatch, finding the room below empty. He opens the grate and slips down into the room and locks the door behind him. He then double checks the grate above him and nods to himself. Doable.

  He knocks on the door loudly then rushes back to the vent. The Force is his ally as he jumps up into the vent, closing the grate behind as the first soldier enters the room, followed closely behind by the other TK Stormtroopers and the two Clones. He shuffles to the other room, breaks out of the vent, jumping down to the door control panel and pressing its close button on the men inside the other room.

  “Bye-a!” He shouts as he chucks the primed thermal detonator through the closing doors.

  He ignores the shouts and panic and simply takes satisfaction in outsmarting a foe as the detonator explodes within the enclosed room. He glances about the new room and rushes for the next door. Force knows when the Inquisitors would try to pounce on him and he had just used his last grenade to ensure no one would be able to comm for help and pinpoint his location.

  He needed to keep moving … the train was slowing. Cal frowned. That was … good. He could either get off here or hide and stay on for another station or … no best get off and leave. Make for the closest spaceport and hitch a ride. Surely some smuggler or entrepreneuring merchant would be willing to take on a deckhand for a couple jumps. Then he could maybe find somewhere new and safe to hide out.

  Instead of any of that though, the side of the traincar he was in exploded. Cal suddenly finds himself slamming into the opposite side of the traincar as a group of Clones in black airborne armor jump through, sliding down from ropes above the hole that had been blown in by a gunship.

  “Karabast.” Cal mutters as he manages to right himself and pull his emergency blaster, “I don’t know what you want, but I swear I’m not a Jedi!”

  “That’s what they all say.” Their leader’s voice comes through, painfully familiar, “Take him!”

  Cal fires a low energy shot at one of the Clones and the bastard actually dodges before firing back in triplicate, which Cal manages to just barely sidestep. As the leader rushes him with two electrostaves an explosion takes out the gunship. Cal ducks under a swing of he staves, then rolls to the side towards the hole where a freighter comes up alongside the train, a woman on a lowered ramp.

  “JUMP!” She shouts and Cal trusts his instincts and the Force.

  He rushes backwards, dodging another blasterbolt which thuds against the hull of the ship behind him, then pushes with the Force. The three Clones are flung back into the same wall that had taken his fall. Cal takes the opportunity and jumps, the Force is with him as he barely manages to grab the lip of the ramp and clambers on with help of the woman.

  “Get us out of here Greez!” She shouts as they enter the cabin of the ship.

  Just as the door closes on them Cal points his blaster at her: “I’d like an explanation now … please.”

  I look at the paltry defenders in front of us. A trio of Dreadnoughts, four Arquitenses and a Nebulon-B. The Imperial garrison was, in a single word, small. Sure, it could likely hold off the various smaller pirate bands known to use Algor as a shadow port, but not all of them at once and not for particularly long. It didn’t stand a chance against us.

  “Hail the opposing officers. Offer them a chance to surrender. Separate message to the Exarch below offering to spare their world for the cooperation of their people and an inroad to the local pirates.” I order.

  “Sir, Algor doesn’t have an Exarch.” Mi-Kus says.

  I turn to face him: “Weren’t they part of Xim’s Empire?”

  “Yes, sir.” An Adjutant says butting in, “But apparently they weren’t big fans. Tore down every statues and killed off his enforcers after Xim kicked it apparently. They have an Arch Judge who governs the system.”

  I chuckle at that: “Shouldn’t be surprised a world known for its uppity confrontational people and lawyers would be ruled by a Judge.”

  “Enemy ships are charging us. They’ve launched fighters, two squadrons total, all Headhunters.” Commander Welder reports.

  “Hm. Well can’t fault them for bravery. Form interlocking lines, heavy hitters in the second line, ten kilometers behind the first line. Ion cannon Dreadnoughts in front, missiles capable ships in reserve. Prepare boarding troops and salvage teams. Fire at will.”

  “This is kind of pathetic.” Commander Hursk mutters.

  “Their honor demands it.” An Adjutant suggests.

  “Reminds me of the battle of Toong’l.” I mutter, “Commodore Jim was outnumbered and outmatched. He skirmished with the enemy while buying time for us to reinforce him. Then we destroyed the enemy in a single, decisive strike.”

  “The charge is too reckless for that.” Mi-Kus says as the first heavy turbolasers race past our windows, crashing into the bulkhead of the Nebulon-B.

  A handful more shots break upon the Kuati designed warship, her shields breaking and multiple craters and canyons carved into her hull, though more smash against the opposing Dreadnoughts. Another salvo of heavy turbolasers smash into them and then I give a simple order.

  “First line, fire all ion weaponry.”

  As one, over a dozen Dreadnought M4-I heavy cruisers unleash the firepower of their heavy ion cannon turrets. Shields shatter, hulls are scorched, systems break down, energy is sapped, poorly insulated electrical systems melt, and suddenly there are eight drifting hulks in front of us.

  “Hail the Arch Judge again, I wish to negotiate. Launch boarding parties now, secure the ships, each group is to be given one chance to surrender. Everyone else gets voided.” I order.

  “Sir, detecting Cronau radiation from multiple points in system.”

  “That should be the pirates.” I mutter aloud.

  “Sir?”

  “Something Ohnaka mentioned to me.” I reply as a Tionese Man o’ War exits hyperspace, escorted by two Tionese Sloops, “Something about there being more pirates operating out of Algor than usual. Seems their small PDF went rogue when the Imps showed up.”

  Shortly after, three Gozantis, a Lupus class frigate and three Tionese Sloops exit hyperspace from varying points, followed by a badly damaged Munificent and another two Tionese Man o’ Wars. Seems the Algor Planetary Defense Fleet had kept closer than I had suspected. It was larger too. Probably feared Imperial reprisal if they defended themselves, or perhaps they wished to see how we would do.

  “We’re receiving a transmission from the surface.” Commander Slas reports.

  “Establish link.” I order before turning to face the hologram of a gray bearded old man in a long black robe and a white powdered wig.

  “Hussar.” He greets with a slight bow.

  “Arch Judge.” I reply, copying his bow, “I would wish to negotiate with your world and her honored defense force.”

  “You are in luck, our Corsairs are willing to allow me to negotiate on their behalves.” The Judge says.

  “I would offer your world membership in the Rebel Coalition we have established to dethrone the Emperor and return democracy to the galaxy.”

  The Judge strokes his beard as he speaks: “Does the Senate not act in the name of the people? Is the Empire not democratic?”

  “Perhaps oligarchical.” I counter, “Not to mention tyrannical. Bandomeer sacked, her people massacred, Giju’s industry seized on flimsy pretenses, the Herglic protests throughout their diaspora met with violence, the Wookies enslaved, the Geonosian Hives not heard of in over a year, democratic institutions and watchdog organizations stripped of power or done away with completely, the Banking Clan nationalized in full, those who would speak out silenced, political rivals killed. The Republic I knew turned to a rotting corpse now ruled by a maggot Emperor, feasting upon its heart.”

  “You’re too poetic.” The Arch Judge says, “And your cause is likely doomed.”

  “Better to die free, than to live a slave. Better to die spitting in the face of tyranny than to die submitting to it.”

  The man hesitates a long moment before speaking: “I see logic in this. I would have you transfer to us a copy of your proposed treaty and give the Corsairs the same contract you gave Ohnaka.”

  “Ohnaka provides me with intelligence, do your Corsairs claim to have such a network?”

  “Not such a concentrated network, but a more spread out one, less focused, but diversified.” The man answers.

  “Then I shall have the contract I use with Ohnaka sent as well.” I reply as I tap R4 to begin preparing the documents.

  “Unless there is something glaringly missing, I look forward to cooperating with you, honored Hussar.”

  “And I with you and yours, honored Judge.” I reply before the hologram blinks out. I take a moment to gather my thoughts before I speak, “Bring our transports into the center of the formation. Continue with securing the enemy ships and detach an escort force to tow them back to Caluula. We’ll have Baraka give them a once over and decide if we should retrofit them, re-purpose them or scrap them. Detach the … 45th Colonies Cruiser Section to oversee that. They’re to double back and regroup with us once they’re done.”

  “We’re being rather meticulous, sir.” Mi-Kus notes.

  “I’m afraid Tarkin’s gonna show up out of nowhere and pounce on us when we least expect him.” I answer.

  “Understood, sir. I’ll make preparations for the next jump.”

  “Do that.” I order.

  Hyperspace recedes, spitting us out among the first ships of our taskforce in the Eibon system. I take a quick glance at the tactical display and don’t bother holding back my scoff. You gotta be kidding, right? Did they strip the rest of the Cronese Mandate for the force gathered here?

  Commander Welder keeps to his duty well, beginning his report in a collected tone despite the force arrayed against us: “Sir, getting a read on enemy force. Total numbers is One Imperial, two Tectors, ten Venators, thirty Dreadnoughts, ten Acclamator ones, ten Acclamator twos, ten Arquitenses, twenty Nebulon-Bs, twenty Gozantis, nine CR90s and at least a dozen IPV-1s.”

  “Well damn, took the Empire long enough.” I say grimly, “Bout time they give us an even fight!”

  2. Thraken’s use of much better munitions when compared to the Separatists (such as green grade tibana and massed proton warheads). These are very much limited resources and Zenith will have a chunk of its Rebellion oriented briefings/meetings include someone complaining about the decreasing number of quality munitions.

  3. The encirclement straining Imperial shields far more than the mostly forward facing Republic Tectors of Operation Vengeance.

  4. Lucky hits/unlucky hits. Sometimes a gunner just hits the perfect spot (or in this case hits it a couple dozen times).

  5. A lack of light ships and pickets to act as interceptors/pickets/meatshields for the larger warships.

  6. Rebel damage minimized due to numbers advantage and ship cycling.

  7. Damaged Rebel ships abandoned during the battle (such as many of the mentioned corvettes), could be recovered and recrewed with their own crews.