I was standing on the bridge of the Little Revenge while looking at the Galactic map. We had returned to Dac a couple hours ago and I was strategizing our current situation. I had to take into account how likely it was to receive reinforcements from the Core.

  I had left Targonn feeling slightly down. Something about leaving a child in the care of someone who did not seem to care about their proximity to conflict unnerved me. Not to mention the ongoing war on Targonn, which had devolved into being between ten factions with a further ten rogue elements, such as mercenaries and autonomous subordinates. One of the prospective supporters of Governor Squeak had been assassinated by a subordinate. Said subordinate had declared themselves the Lord and Master of Targonn. That world was a bloody mess. I was happy to leave Senior Captain Jim in charge of providing orbital support there alongside the Teardrop and Prince’s Duty, though I think I'll miss having Padawan Kestis running under foot. Even with the childish questions and the child endangerment, the little kid had not been a burden.

  I return my mind to the map in front of me. The rest of the 159th was on a supply run for extra infantry weapons, ammunition and rations to supply the incoming 10th Halla Sector Volunteer Regiment as well as the usual foodstuffs and some extra ammunition for the squadron’s batteries. That would certainly help in the long run.

  I had the sneaking feeling that something was about to break, the feeling was like the moment before a hunter pulled the trigger, minute yet deadly and calm. The war was still pretty close to a stalemate. The Republic had almost pushed every Separatist force out of the Core and had made progress around Eriadu and Dac. They had managed to retake Geonosis and Ryloth as well as hold onto Christophsis, but the front-lines had more or less stabilized.

  Felucia was still contested by both sides, with a new Republic counter attack starting to take shape. Mimban was still a slog, with the local help being the only damn reason the planet wasn’t lost yet. The Tion Cluster was still safely in Separatist hands, while there was constant fighting along the Trans-Hydian Way and within the New Territories. It was no small miracle that the Southern Slice was still contested at all based on the intelligence reports.

  Something was going to snap soon. Some front will break and terrifyingly it was looking to be in the North Eastern Slice Command, my command. Maybe an assault towards Hutt Space to cut off our supply line? It would probably force me to demand the Mon Cala government hand over the command of their Merchant Fleet to regain control of Triellus Trade Route.

  They could also assault Dac from Dellalt and Mintooine. It would weaken the defenses of the Separatist stronghold and leave the refit yard at Dellalt vulnerable for a retaliatory attack, but for the jewel of the North East Slice, it would be worth it.

  I can hear the bridge crew whispering again. They’ve seen me doing this often enough to know I’m simply deep in thought. I’m pretty sure Mi-Kus is asleep right now, his usual position as my second on the bridge currently being done by my Comms Chief. I should find a reason to promote Sergeant Slas soon. She has done a good job and Maker knows she deserves the pay raise.

  I turn back towards the map. Maybe they would make an attack on the Halla Sector from Bimmisaari? It would definitely be unexpected. It would probably force the 1st Halla Sector Volunteers away from Targoon and force the 10th Halla Sector Volunteers to stay in the area instead of heading north. A move like that would also probably force any reinforcements to prioritize the security of the logistical lanes. Not like I could do anything about that if it happened. The sector fell out of my general command, even if said command was supposed to be temporary.

  I frown again. How to disrupt any build up? Maybe a raid at Dellalt? Destroy the retrofitting yard and jump back to Dac? It was a mission just like that that put me in charge. I would rather not try it again, unless I had a definite numerical superiority and affirmations from General Solomahal and Hondo. I should try and contact the General again soon. The first attempt had failed and-

  “Sir, incoming transmission from the 32nd Battlegroup.” Sergeant Slas says, interrupting my train of thought.

  “What does Tenant want? Put him through.” I say.

  My modified tactical map was replaced fully by Tenant. He was looking a tad disheveled. That put me on edge. “Thraken. I need to ask a favor.”

  I stare back in a mix of confusion and fear. What in the Maker’s name could he want: “I’ll take this in my quarters. Sergeant Slas your bridge, Sergeant Welder, take up the post of second. One moment Nils.”

  I rush to my quarters with R4 loyally trailing behind. We reach my quarters and I lock the door behind. A moment later Tenant’s hologram is up at my desk.

  “Alright Nils what is it?” I ask.

  “The Separatists have just captured Tarkin, Wilhuff. I know you have some … connections to find out where he is. Republic Intelligence has had difficulties finding him so far and I fear it will be too late by the time they’ve found him and his General.” My friend says.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “I’ll call up on my local contacts and monitor any comms chatter I can gather. I’ll pass it along promptly. If they’re still in transit we may even be able to capture their ship. How long has it been?”

  “A couple hours according to what my contacts in the Navy and Republic Intelligence have gathered. They were captured around Bestine. I figured you’d have the best connections in the area.”

  “I’ll speak with a couple friends. Hopefully we can catch their transport soon.” I say.

  “Thank you Thraken. I’ll see what I can do on my end. Keep in touch.” He says before the comms channel goes silent.

  I pull up my comms and punch in Hondo’s codes. I wait a moment when the Pirate’s image pops up.

  “My friend! What can I help you with? I must say you have caught me at an opportune time. I am about to get a big haul! You’ll be paying me out the nose, HaHA!” The Pirate says.

  “I have information on a captured Navy officer and his Jedi General. Names are Wilhuff Tarkin from Eriadu and ... Even Piell of the Jedi Order. There may be other POWs. Any information gathered would be greatly appreciated and you may receive a special bonus for it.” I say.

  “I shall keep my ear to the ground. Any clue where they may have been captured? A target prison?” Hondo asks.

  “They were captured around Bestine. We do not know their target prison.” I say.

  “Hmmm, I will still try to find something. I will promise nothing. It could very easily be a prison out in Wild Space I have never heard of or a world far away from my contacts.” The Republic privateer says.

  “That is all I can ask of you. Thank you Hondo.”

  The Pirate gives a sloppy salute before the comm goes out. I suppose I’d need to keep an eye out on this too.

  -Fondor same time-

  The streets were burning. Sporadic firefights between the syndicates, unions and Separatists were happening almost hourly. The Separatists had burnt almost all the goodwill they had with their ideology when they committed the Ministry Square Massacre. Five thousand dead. Naomi sighed. She had almost been one of them too, had she stuck around longer.

  She had almost resigned her post the day after, when the United Militant Syndicate had begun to riot in the capitol in a show of power and self-proclaimed solidarity. They would be added to the list of dead syndicates and their flags would be burned at the end of the Great Strike in honor of their leaders and dead. Now she still had her job and was feeding intel to the unions alongside her foolish love.

  She felt silly about all her old worries. Marrying her love despite his parents harsh disapproval. Who was she, some thirty seventh generation migrant from Commenor. Who was she to marry a scion of the Dericotes, that ancient family who in the first wave of settlers on Fondor, whose family helped fight massive sand-drakes and helped wipe out three clans of bandits and an entire family in a blood feud. Who had fought for the reclamation of their world’s natural beauty and who had fought with the syndicates against the shipyard lords in the thousands of years of cold war on the factory line?

  She smiles while remembering how she had told them to fuck off and let her marry her future husband in peace. Her foolish love had stormed off with her after quietly telling his old man to be quiet about lost glory and foolish thoughts of wars long past. HA! If her father in law saw his grandson now he’d be chomping at the bit to fight with her little mudwhelp.

  Speaking of her mudwhelp the transmitter Elix had gotten them was flashing. She got up from her chair and walked over to the device. She punches in a couple codes, puts on the headset and she hears her son’s voice: “Ma’? Pa’? You there? All clear? I repeat, You there? All clear?”

  “What’s the code?” She asks.

  “Ugh, fine. Mudwhelp to mother pup.”

  “Thank you dear. Mother pup has received you. How are ya? Doing alright? Has R4 been keeping an eye on ya?”

  “Yes, ma’ she’s been keepin’ an eye on me. A friend of mine asked me for a favor. A mutual acquaintance has been taken captive around Bestine. Was wonderin’ if you, pa’ or Elix knew anythin’ ‘bout it?” Her son asks.

  “We don’t really have much intel on what’s happenin’ outside of Fondor right now, hun. The entire world is under martial law ever since the syndicates started rioting. The unions are being more sneaky, hiding workers and their families, but we haven’t really heard much from the outside. I’ll ask Elix when I see ‘em next.” She answers.

  There is a moment of pause, then: “You and pa’ are safe yeah?”

  “As safe as can be. The Emir doesn’t seem to care about me and your pa’ is doing the work of over half a department alongside his side-hustle of making improvised explosives.” She answers.

  “So not too much has changed. You stay safe. I don’t want to have fought this war just to come home to an empty housing unit.”

  “We’ll be as safe as possible. I can’t guarantee nothin’ but we’ll do our best. Stay safe yourself.”

  “I’ll do my best. I think something around the front may break soon. I’d put my money on Dac, but that’s just my thoughts. On your end?”

  “About half the world is on strike and the other half is rioting. they’ve chained some of the workers to their stations. They’ve got droids patrolling day and night and they’ve been caught up in about hourly skirmishes with the unions and syndicates.” She answers.

  “Damn, if even the unions are fightin them they must have pissed them off a shit-ton. I’ll see about hinting to Republic intelligence that Fondor needs minimal prodding to turn back to the Republic. I’ll need to be subtle ‘bout it, but I’ve been sayin’ similar things since the war started.”

  “Don’t put yourself at risk with your high command. Stay as low profile as possible now.” She asks of her foolish boy.

  “Tad late for that ma’. They’ve been using me for propaganda for a while now apparently. Apparently I am the Hussar of the North Slice.” Her son says.

  “The scout?”

  “I think they must be usin’ an old version of the world. Pius Dea old. Apparently the Duro started using that world for Dea raiders who kept trying to not so subtly kill them off. I suppose I’m doing something similar to the Sepies up here, but I doubt everyone is seeing the concernin’ undertones of connectin' me and human supremacists. I can’t say I like it, but I know better than mouthing off about it to Isard and his cronies.” Her son complains.

  “Well you keep quiet about it. Don’t worry about a ten thousand year old implication and focus on stayin’ alive. It won’t matter what they call you.”

  “Of course it matters ma’. I’m going to end up being a decent member within the historical record. Why do you think I had R4’s memory banks expanded when the war started? I even removed that damn blowtorch pa’ insisted she have for the extra space.”

  “Well you can complain about it when the war is over.”

  “I suppose so. You stay safe now. Tell pa’ I love ya’ both and tell Elix and Alice to take care.”

  “I will, you stay safe too. We love ya.”

  The comm goes silent and she removes the headset. She’ll always worry about her foolish mudwhelp. She just hopes they’ll all live through this damn war. She hides the communicator as a chorus of blasterfire sounds from outside. Maker preserve her.