I was standing at attention in the briefing room, alone. We had successfully returned to Dac for resupply and offloading the crew of the Jabiim’s Justice until a new ship was provided for them. However now, I was standing in front of the projections of Fleet Admiral Honor, Jedi General Koon and Admiral Merillion Tarko of the 39th Battlegroup stationed above Duro. My situation wasn’t helped by the Separatists having counter attacked, retaking Saleucami and everything north of Junkfort Station on the Triellus Trade Route. It had been fast and with the 409th at half strength there was nothing that could be done about it at present time. Though a small upside was the new Clone armor. It had boosted morale and the Clones were on a painting binge since it had arrived. Though I suppose the loss of half a dozen systems was a massive loss in comparison to the small moral booster.

  “… insubordinate. You had a single objective and you failed to complete it Commodore. I am most displeased. I would suspect Separatist sympathies were it not for your excellent service record and swiftness in taking action. I in fact find it highly suspicious that you blame Junior Captain Ahrinda Price when her orders were not clear. I would even go so far as to accuse you of shifting the blame.” Admiral Tarko rambles. He was the acting Internal Actions Committee Manager of the Navy, due to the actual leader having died last week. Admiral Tarko had also not had his wartime appointment ratified yet. I feel my hand tapping my holster as he insinuates treason, my eyes narrowing in the process.

  “Enough, Admiral.” Fleet Admiral Honor interrupts. “I have multiple concerns myself, Commodore. Why did you not commit your boarding troops to seize the Providence’s brig?”

  “I did not think it possible without fighter supremacy, a decimation of the enemy point defense and or the disabling all bridges, we only managed to destroy the secondary and tertiary bridges, before attempting a broadside. That was far less than the two out of three points I was willing to risk.” I answer.

  “Why did you alter your plans so short term? Perhaps this confused Junior Captain Price.” The Fleet Admiral asks.

  “Sir, I was under the assumption that we would be facing at most a Providence class battleship, two Munificent class cruisers, with approximately four squadrons of fighters and possibly a couple corvettes which separated from the fronts. We did not expect two additional Munificents alongside two additional fighter squadrons, let alone the picketing Gazontis. I believed it most prudent to divide my forces further to, hopefully yet tragically fruitlessly, overwhelm any droid in command.” I answer.

  Admiral Tarko snatches up the conversation: “Yet Senate Bureau Intelligence stated that you knew the commanding officer was not a droid.”

  I snarl as I answer: “I received no such intelligence. My reports are air tight, the reports of my subordinates are up to snuff. We received no such information, Admiral.”

  “A likely story, Commodore. Would you have changed your strategy if you knew the commanding officer was in fact a fellow traitorous Fondorian.” The Admiral spits.

  I start tapping my holster again as I answer: “I am sorry, sir, but as I have not read the alleged information package I was supposedly failing to respond to, I cannot answer your question without asking for the name of the person in command.”

  The Admiral grabs a datapad from off screen before reading off the answer: “An Ilisia Evo Dericote Hiltbar. Ugh, why are Fondorian names so long?”

  “My second cousin, once removed, I believe. A Junior Captain in the Fondorian Planetary Defense Force last I heard.” I supply. I consider my answer a moment before answering the original question, “I would have prioritized the primary bridge to disable the less predictable sentient commanding officer instead of the secondary and tertiary bridges to limit the backups of a droid commanding officer. I would have concentrated my frigates more forwards to prioritize said bridge. Of course that relies on the General not being on the primary bridge, but I accepted that assumption in my original tactics as well. I do believe that I am within my rights and not subject to an inquiry.”

  General Koon speaks up at that moment: “You are not being investigated, Commodore Dericote. We are simply trying to understand how your actions may have changed the situation. We are preparing a taskforce now to rescue the General and your tracking devices have proven quite valuable to that.”

  “Thank you, sir.” I say calming slightly.

  “You shouldn’t be saying such things to a potential traitor.” Admiral Tarko snarls under his breath.

  The calm is gone, replaced by a cold rage: “I would be very careful with who you accuse of treason, sir. I have left my homeworld, my mother and father alongside my closest of friends behind for the Republic. I have abandoned any certainty I had for them, because for all I know they are dead. Dead at the hands of the Separatist for being my parents and friends. I would be very very careful with your words, Admiral. We Fondorians still have our supporting feuding laws and I am within my right to demand a duel under Fondorian and Naval tradition and law. I will say it once and only once, Admiral sir. I am NO TRAITOR!”

  “YOU ARE THREATENING A SUPERIOR OFFICER!” Admiral Tarko bellows back.

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  “AND I AM WELL IN MY RIGHTS TO DEMAND SATISFACTION. THE WORDS YOU USED AGAINST ME. I DEMAND AN APOLOGY IF NOTHING ELSE, WERE WE ON FONDOR I WOULD DEMAND YOUR BLOOD FOR THAT YOU SCAB!” I bark at him, pulling my right glove from my hand and throwing it at the holographic foot of the Admiral. General Koon raises a hand to cover his mouthpiece in apparent shock, though the insult seems to shock the Admiral out of his rage.

  “A scab? What does a wound have to do with anything?”

  “He has thrown down the glove, Admiral.” Fleet Admiral Honor says, a slight smirk growing on her usually stoic face, “And unless you plan on dying to a head-wound I recommend you apologize to the Commodore.”

  “And why should I?” The Admiral presses.

  “I highly recommend you follow the Fleet Admiral’s advice, Admiral.” General Koon presses, without answering the officer, “I believe if you do end up killing him in a duel you will soon find your person under siege by a retaliatory force of his angry Fondorian relatives the moment the war ends.”

  “Fine, I retract my prior sentence, Commodore. My apologies, I did not mean to insinuate your sacrifice to the Republic was not great.” The Admiral relents.

  “Thank you, sir. I of course apologize for assuming you would go against the best interest of your people and house. If that is all, I have far too many duties to fulfill.” I say as I return the glove from the floor as I bow to my theoretical superior. The glove returns to my hand not a moment later.

  “I believe it is, Commodore. I hope the next meeting is more productive.” Fleet Admiral Honor says, before her and the hologram of the Admiral Tarko disappear, leaving the one of General Koon still in place.

  “I hope you are not as angry about the insult as you appeared, Commodore.” The wizened General says.

  “No longer, sir. The apologies have been given and accepted on booth ends.” I answer.

  “I believe your forces still require reinforcements and a Jedi General?” He asks.

  “We would be very happy about reinforcements, especially after the loss of the Jabiim’s Justice and the Separatist counter offensive.” I answer.

  “But not a Jedi.”

  “Permission to speak freely, sir?” I ask

  “Granted.”

  “I would not know, sir. I never had a Jedi commanding officer in action. The closest thing to that would be the cooperation with General Tapal and his Padawan Kestis. I found both amicable if slightly unconventional and unlearned in naval procedure and tradition.” I say.

  “I suppose you do not want a Jedi General then?”

  “I do not have the liberty to make that decision, sir.” I say.

  “I am asking for what you want, Commodore.”

  “I want a couple cases of Corellian ales and whiskeys. I want my best friends to finally get hitched and adopted into the family. I would really like some reinforcements and some Commander to shunt my administrative duties off on. I want fifty million credits and a penthouse in the middle of the Fondorian desert. I want a mudpuppy on my ship and R4 to stop bugging me about my sleep schedule and drinking habits. What I want is hardly what I get, sir.”

  “I suppose I will ask the Council about sending some reinforcements your way, Commodore. I do not think I can send you alcohol at such a distance without it disappearing into the supply chain.” The Jedi Master quips and I finally manage to smile.

  “If that is all, sir?” I ask, feeling slightly lighter in my mood.

  “I suppose it is. May the Force be with you.”

  “And may the Maker preserve you, sir.” I answer before snapping a salute as the Jedi’s hologram goes out.

  I was standing on the bridge of the Little Revenge. We were in drydock for repairs, but that wouldn’t stop me from working in my preferred workspace. We had successfully apprehended five more shipments of incoming Separatist war material. Four Gazontis and a bulk freighter filled to the brim with droids, ammunition and more of the weird foodstuffs we had found in the Diamond class transport.

  At this rate we might be able to cut off the Separatist sympathizers from rebelling. I still had no clue who the kark the potential rebels were, but if the government continued the raids that Cheif Nossar Ri was overseeing they would be stamped out before they could ignite. I take a sip of caf as I ponder the star map.

  A Jedi taskforce had allegedly infiltrated Lola Sayu, status unknown. There was a build up of Separatist ships at Mintooine and Dellalt. That was unnerving. The 409th Outer Rim Section had been temporarily placed under my command until their new flagship, a Dreadnought to be christened the New Justice, finished construction in a month.

  Speaking of new ships the recently unveiled MC40a prototype, christened Dac’s Revenge, had finished construction. It was about a hundred meters shorter than a Dreadnought with a slightly shorter height. It wielded seven portside and seven starboard medium turbolaser on three turrets each alongside two forward mounted concussion missile launchers and an impressive eighteen medium ion cannons devided roughly evenly throughout its fore, aft starboard and portside batteries. Most useful to me were its hanger bay and six heavy tractor beam generators.

  In short the ship was perfect for assisting in boarding operations and as soon as I reshuffled my crew around and recruited some two thousand additional crew and arms-men she would be ready. Best of all, she was all mine. I could finally house Little Squadron without needing to fear a technical failure causing a major accident. Even better I could fit another two LAATs into the MC40a. I think I will be reassigning the most experienced arms-men to the new ship alongside a platoon of clones, probably Door Platoon, they were the most experienced, though I think Wildhog’s Fourth Platoon may be a better choice overall.

  It didn’t really matter yet, but the recruitment drive was looking pretty good, a few Targonnians who wished to gain more battlefield experience in the Navy for a hope at a better posting in their homeworld’s planetary forces later on, a couple hundred Toong who wish to repay us for liberation, a couple hundred humans from Dac and Lothal and about a thousand Quarren and Mon Calamari who wished to be on the offensive. I think a hundred and fifty six are being poached from the Merchant Fleet. I suppose I will need to smooth that over with Chief Nossar Ri.

  “Sir, we have an incoming transmission from Chief Nossar Ri.” I hear Sergeant Slas say.

  “Oh, well I was going to schedule a meeting with him sooner or later. Wonder what he wants.” I say as I motion for R4 to save my current notes on the star maps and removing them from the holoprojector for the moment. A bit later the Quarren appears before me. I snap a salute and stand at attention waiting for the amicable Quarren to speak.

  “Commodore, I am sorry to say that our King and sovereign Yos Kolina, eighty second King of the world of Dac, the polity of Mon Cala and her many children, has been proclaimed dead.”

  Thoughts race through my mind. Who was next in line? That Prince Lee-Char I think. Was he even old enough to become sovereign? Would they start a regency? Who could I get to support the call for a continued pro Republic Regent? How did the King die? Wasn’t he in his mid forties? Who would gain the most from a dead King? Whoever stood to become Regent. The Separatist aligned …

  “Do we know how his Majesty died?” I ask.

  “It appears he was assassinated by a blade to his back.” The Quarren leader answers.

  “Any suspects?” I ask.

  “None so far.”

  “I am sorry I need to ask this, your honor, but will this effect the war effort of Dac?” I ask.

  “We are pausing all contracts until further notice. We would request your forces pull out of system until the next monarch is chosen and if necessary their regent appointed.”

  “Will we be given time to finish our repairs and the final crewing of the Dac’s Revenge?” I ask.

  The Quarren pauses, considering my request for a moment: “I will give my support to your request. It will be up to our parliament to approve it.”

  I give a short bow as I speak: “Thank you, your honor. I will be personally be requesting to be a part of the delegation the Republic will inevitably send.”

  “Then it will be highly likely that the Separatists will send their own delegation.” Chief Nossar Ri warns.

  “I have no fear of the Separatists, your honor.”

  “And we do not fear the Republic, Commodore.”