It had been a relatively calm rotation and I was more than relieved to try and get some sleep before the next one. I didn’t allow myself to think as I took another dose of sleeping meds to knock myself out. I got a full six hours of sleep as per battle rotation regulations. Just after waking up I started getting ready. First shower since leaving Munto Codru and assembling a clean uniform. I felt better, if still sapped and tired.

  I grab a ration bar and a cup of caf as I march down to the bridge. I grimace at the taste. Bland and stale, no flavor and a terrible texture, like a mix between a cracker and a stale slice of bread. I sigh after swallowing the bite. What I wouldn’t give for some actual meat. Nine hells I’d rather eat mudpuppy or sandcricket at this point. At least mudpuppy could be flavorful when marinated while the sandcrickets tasted alright no matter how you cooked them, well as long as you could catch them. Ration bars never taste especially good, but at least during usual missions and patrols we could actually use the kitchens in the Little Revenge to supplement the ration bars with soups and stews and Maker on high I’m missing the karking watery insult to the word soup we get served on campaign.

  I take a long sip from my caf as I enter the bridge. I glance around before turning towards the tactical display: “Did I miss anything of importance?”

  Sergeant Welder pipes up: “We got another ship, sir. The Targonnian planetary government has sent the Munificent class TPN Squeaks Pride to support us alongside two squadrons of Z-95 Headhunters. Caused a small scare when she showed up next to the Silver Anchovy, but she has the right clearance codes and her Captain has deployed the third battalion of the 1st Halla Sector Volunteer Regiment to Dac City as reinforcements.”

  “They’re risking Targonn.” I mutter as I study the tactical display’s replay of the last six and a half hours at ten times speed.

  “Her Captain said, that Governor Squeak is of the opinion that without Dac, Targonn will fall regardless. He hopes that by supporting us here and now we can shift additional forces to finish off his rebelling officers.” Sergeant Welder finishes.

  “Clever bastard. I knew there was a reason why I tolerated him.” I say.

  “The Squeak’s Pride has been moved to the back line as a reserve and long range fire support ship. Should we adjust?” My head comms officer of the rotation asks.

  “No, leave her where she is. She could be useful for plugging smaller gaps while keeping our Venators in reserve for dire emergencies.” I reply.

  “Sir, enemy movements. The second Lucrehulk has joined the center of the enemy north line. Sensors have identified her as a battleship configuration.” Welder says.

  “That will be a problem.” Mi-Kus mutters.

  “Only if we let it be.” I supply, “Lucrehulks have a major flaw. They can’t move for shit out of hyperspace. Move away our Dreadnoughts from our center there and prepare to pull our Venators into the midst of the shipyards and move a couple corvettes into some of the drydocks.”

  “We’re laying a trap?” Mi-kus asks for clarification.

  “Also gives us some cover from enemy sensors. All that’s left is to do something risky.” I supply as I start tapping out an old rhythm on my holster.

  “I want our second rapid response unit, three squadrons of bombers, four squadrons of fighters and any spare frigate we have to make an attack run on the enemy position to our direct south.” I order.

  “The shipyard?” Mi-Kus asks for clarification.

  “It’ll be a risky move. They have permission to pull back if the run is found to be untenable. I also want as many spare infantry munitions, medical supplies, foodstuffs and explosives stuffed into half of their escape pods, to be launched at the station for our men.” I say as I start picking the squadrons I would need for my plan.

  “I’ll also want secondary attacks from fighters and bombers along the northern line and a break out of five squadrons of fighters and six squadrons of bombers towards our isolated Golan I to the South-West.”

  “Sir, we’ve got incoming. Last reports indicate further reinforcements.” Sergeant Welder interrupts.

  “Locations?”

  “East.” An Ensign reports.

  “Start moving our Venators and corvettes.” I order. Not much I can do about it now.

  “First ships exiting. Two IPVs, and a squadron of CloakShape fighters.” The Ensign reports.

  “More exiting. Additional MC30c frigate, IPV, half a squadron of H-60 Tempest bombers and two and a half squadrons of Z-95 Headhunters.” Sergeant Welder supplies.

  “If friendly, they’re to go full throttle towards our lines. Afterwards I want the frigate to join our southern line and the IPVs to join picket duty on our northern line. Put the fighters and bombers on rotation.” I order. The requested four corvettes had just started entering the chosen drydocks.

  “New reinforcements reporting origin. They are an emergency taskforce from the respective planetary defense forces of the Tidal Circuit.” The comms Ensign frowns slightly before continuing, “Also prattling on about serving their rightful King and a request about why you’re in command, sir.”

  “Inform them of the lacking commanding officers available and make sure to divide the unit well. I don’t want some Royalists mucking up my strategy because they haven’t been fighting here for three days already.” I order.

  “I’ll get to it, sir.” Sergeant Slas interjects.

  “Very well. Any major reactions to our distractions?” I ask as I return my focus to the tactical display.

  “Mostly fighter interception attempts. Though there are less than standard protocol. Mostly droids. It seems most of the original Z-95s have been eliminated.” Mi-Kus says as he gestures towards the fighter brawls.

  “And our supply run?” I ask.

  “No casualties and have begun their return. 55% of escape pods have managed to be retrieved by our allies, the rest were shot out of the void.” Mi-Kus says.

  “Begin pulling our fighters and bombers back, unless their situation is highly advantageous, then give them a couple extra minutes. Venators in position?”

  “Yes, sir.” Mi-Kus reports.

  “Very good. Let’s see if they fall for it.” I mutter.

  They did not. Despite them having an incredibly strong center and our center appearing weak they kept their lines intact. We lost about thirty percent of the diversionary fighters and bombers, while the reinforcements made it to the lines without any losses of their own. The Seps haven’t fallen for the trap yet, though I suppose it was fairly obvious. A droid would not be able to miss the Venators and Dreadnoughts adjusting their position.

  On and on. The two opposing sides starring one another down. Keeping their lines taught. Neither wishing to advance and risk falling into a trap from the enemy. I snarl as I start tapping a faster paced beat on my holster. We had been probing each other repeatedly. A group of fighters and bombers here, a duet of frigates there. Despite it all, hours of nothing.

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  Eventually I sigh as R4 taps my leg and warbles at me to go and get some sleep now. I take a long, hard look at the tactical display. Finally I sigh and tap R4 to get moving: “Alright. Adjutant Lieutenant Hursk has the bridge until Mi-Kus shows up. Wake me if anything important happens.”

  I march down the hallway, nodding to officers moving to replace their comrades on station, or heading to their bunks. I close my door behind me and watch R4 plug into her charging station. I sigh again as I change into some sleepwear and take another dose of sleeping meds. My head crashes against the pillow and I embrace the darkness of sleep a few minutes later.

  R4 hits me in the shoulder and I jump awake. The klaxons are blaring and I start getting dressed. I’m running towards the bridge while finishing putting on my jacket, my gloves jammed between my teeth and R4 waving my officer’s cap as she rolls behind me.

  “SITREP!” I bark through my glove filled teeth, as I barge onto the bridge, finishing buttoning up my jacket as I stop at the tactical display and scanning it for anything.

  “Enemy ships exiting. One Providence class, so far.” Mi-Kus says.

  “Locations, people!” I bark as I start looking at the enemy line, my gloves rapidly finding themselves back on my hands as I do. The line was as I left it, but we’re down about twenty six fighters and bombers.

  “Hard north, sir. They either jumped from Munto Codru, or joined the hyperspace route from there afterwards.” The navigations officer says.

  “Schei? dreck.” I mutter. Had they seized Munto Codru? Had they destroyed the installations, or were the majority of them still safe within the asteroid and kuiper belts? Focus, here and now, “Any movements?”

  “Moving to join the northern shipyards, sir.” Mi-Kus says.

  “More ships exiting from hard north. Two Recusant class light destroyers, six Munificent class cruisers and two, no four Gozanti class corvettes.” Sergeant Welder amends.

  “There goes our partial communications with the surface.” Mi-Kus complains.

  “I’m more worried about interference with fleet cohesion.” I confess.

  “Another ship exiting. One additional Providence.” Sergeant Welder interrupts.

  “Another attempt to take on the southern front?” Mi-Kus suggests, continuing the conversation as if we haven’t just been told to expect another valuable capitol ship to ruin our day.

  “Maybe.” I mutter as I start looking at the enemy front line. They were moving ships. Minor adjustments, not dissimilar to what I have been doing throughout.

  “Sir, I think I’ve identified a group of markings on the recent arrivals. They appear to be of the three-oh-ninth Squadron under Commander Blox Hatha of the Trade Federation’s rogue elements, give me a sec and I’ll have something more concrete.” Adjutant Lieutenant Hursk reports. A couple seconds pass as the Lieutenant types away before continuing, “Raider, his forces primarily do hit and runs on our supply lines along the Perlimian and … stars, his unit’s responsible for the confirmed elimination of a dozen convoys, with another three dozen ships suspect of being his victims.”

  That gives me pause. Did this mean the Separatists were expecting more reinforcements? Why were they sending such a relatively elite unit here now? Never mind their specialty not lying in sieges. It would have been much better to use them at the beginning of the battle, when the Merchant Fleet was still in chaos, or to raid our retreating forces as we pulled back along the Prousley’s Rim Run, unless.

  “Something went wrong for them.” I mutter.

  “Sir?”

  “Why are they bringing an elite unit to the battle now, unless they are going to relieve or replace the current commanding officer?” I ask.

  “They could be on schedule, with their plan relying on them using Commander Hatha’s specialty as we pull back along the Prousley’s.” Mi-Kus states.

  “No, but think about it. We’re always looking for more officers, how much worse do you think it is for the less populated Confederacy?” I ask.

  Realization hits Mi-Kus: “Force, do you think that there’s even fiercer departmental rivalries within their Confederacy?”

  “I find it highly likely. Tamson is a Commander, I doubt he would want someone of a higher rank taking credit for this. No, I’m starting to see it. Tamson has overall command of Separatist forces and is focusing on the ground combat while a junior Commander is leading the naval battle, it’d explain why we’ve got so little on Semmes. Likely only a recent promotion too, as to not steal the credit. Now with, what’s his name again Lieutenant?”

  “Blox Hatha, sir.” The soldier replies.

  “Then the Separatists must be realizing they should have a more experienced commander in orbit.” I finish as a smirk starts growing on my face.

  “Sir?”

  “Do we have any clue where the first enemy command ship is?” I press.

  “The wounded Providence has been the one giving off the most transmissions, sir.”

  “Mark her in something violent to my eyes and do the same thing for the new enemy command ship, whenever we find her.” I order. Not even a moment later the wounded Providence lights up in a violent neon purple.

  “Tone it down, R4.” I mutter. Still on the North-Western flank, five MC30c frigates surrounding her alongside two Gozantis, a duet of Munificents on the edge of the Separatist flank and a group of frigates surrounding a MC75 on my target’s other side. I feel a smirk grow. The Munificents might be a problem, but the ‘75 and her escorts were just out of supporting weapons range.

  “I need a rapid response unit to begin harassing the two Munificents here. Get me the Arkania into position to charge the crippled Providence and the Dreadnoughts Fondor’s Son and Little Star into an interception position between that ‘75 and the rest of the enemy line. Move the Squeak’s Pride to give supporting fire against any movements from the line towards the Providence and give me five squadrons of fighters and as many squadrons of bombers as we can scramble together without compromising the lines.” I finish my order, my eyes sparkling with glee. A gamble. It would be a gamble, but the greatest victories were won on gambles, just like the greatest defeats. No, I could not doubt myself now. I needed the confidence required of command.

  “Mi-Kus?” I ask, for my second’s opinion.

  “I fear we are overextending with moving both the Fondor’s Son and Little Star, but have no further objections, sir.” Mi-Kus says, after a pause of hesitancy.

  “Then keep the Little Star in position and move the Dagger to take up the position instead.” I adjust. A Pelta would be a good alternative and I trusted Luis to keep calm and do what was needed to be done.

  “All ships moving into positions.” Mi-Kus says to himself.

  “Enemy reinforcements moving to hostile back line, north.” Sergeant Welder reports.

  “They won’t be fast enough.” I mutter.

  “Sir, we’ve got a communique intercept between the flagships.” Sergeant Slas says.

  “Monitor it and begin the harassment now.” I order. The group of corvettes soar towards the two Munificents, entirely outnumbered and outgunned. I realize belatedly that it was the primary rapid response unit under Faxe. I start tapping my holster. Remain calm, the battle has priority, my friends are competent. They will do well, they have to.

  “Deploy two squadrons of bombers to support the harassing group” I say, adjusting my plan as the bombers peel off from the rallying point to race after the corvettes.

  “Sir, enemy Providence on the line is reporting the battle chronologically.” Sergeant Slas says.

  “Odd, why not start with the current situation?” I mutter. Could it be a sign of the interdepartmental rivalry?

  “All ships are in position.” Mi-Kus reports.

  “Fighter squadrons are ready.” A comms Ensign reports.

  “Begin their advance. All weapons free!” I bark.

  “They’ve begun their advance.” Mi-Kus says.

  “Inform the Lieutenants the bomber assault must not fail.” I say as I watch the fighters and bombers race forwards towards the wounded vessel.

  Sergeant Crash was wondering how he was still alive at this point. Sure he knew Bastard Squadron was on the more elite side of bomber squadrons thanks to all the combat they were in, but this was almost ridiculous. Sure the squadron had picked up three replacement bombers from a decimated Merchant fleet squadron, but they were still only down to ten bombers.

  “Orders are in. Primary target is the remaining bridge of the Providence. Fighter escorts are light and we’ve got sixty other pilots going for our target. When the first volley has been fired make a run along the spine and drop our proton bombs. Gunners keep any droids off the formation. Lilac and Purple squadrons are making runs on the two frigates blocking our path. Let’s move it.” Bastard Leader says.

  “Copy that.” Crash says. He adjusts his Y-Wing’s position in formation. Small target, he’d need R3 to lock on to the target precisely. Deep breath in, deep breath out.

  “You good Crash?” Teight asks.His gunner had an annoying intuition for when his brother was nervous.

  “All good, just keep the clankers off of us.” Crash replies.

  “Here we go.” Bastard six mutters.

  “Incoming!” Bastard leader barks into his comms.

  He sees arks of blue plasma rushing towards the droid fighters. The Vultures flying in straight arks towards them and the Tri fighters making a run from above, spinning on their own axis as their fire from all blasters.

  “Keep formation, people. Orders from up high, this operation does not have permission to fail.” Bastard Leader’s voice crackles through the comms system.

  Crash adjusts his sights and takes a deep breath. Another day another charge. Days like these made him hate his job.

  “Tamson is a fool.” Commander Hatha says to himself. He was relatively young for his office, yet he has proven himself repeatedly. He had battled pirates during the time before the Clone Wars and defeated many an enemy formation since. It was about time he got a chance to take a crack at a siege, with such a victory it was inevitable that he would rise to the position of Commodore. He really should have been promoted by now, but that was office politics for you.

  “I request clarification.” The Tactical droid says, its voice deep and monotone.

  “He expected someone like Dericote to be unable to conduct this battle, despite every past battle of his being a defeat for the Separatist Alliance. Stars, the man's first major victory was an organized retreat from Dellalt where he was thrust into command. I am pleased the Viceroy managed to press the necessity of my command here.” The Neimoidian says.

  “The surface battle will secure the system.” The Tactical droid presses.

  “But without the shipyards, shipyards Dericote is holding hostage and could easily destroy, the world is almost useless. Simply another location where we could extract resources from, instead of a desperately needed shipyard and political hub.” The Commander finishes.

  “I calculate the enemy will be unable to retain their current positions with our current numbers. The odds are seventy six to one that they will loose the central shipyards within the day.” The droid says.

  “Commander Semmes should have pressed the attack then.” Hatha muses.

  “His communications have failed.” The droid supplies.

  “When was this?” The Separatist commander inquires calmly.

  “Approximately 0.3 minutes ago. He was providing a blow by blow replay of the battle up to this point to my counterpart on the secondary bridge. He managed to finish a retelling of the first 1.7 days before enemy jamming, sir.” The droid says.

  “Hmm. Bring up his position.” The Neimoidian requests.

  “He is on the north line, west flank. He is being assailed by a half wing of hostile BTLB Y-Wing bomber craft. He has already lost one supporting frigate.” The droid supplies.

  “Where is his fighter screen? His support ships?”

  “The supporting Munificents are being harassed by a group of corvettes, as well as being threatened by a Golan I defense platform’s range of fire. It appears the corvettes are trying to lure them into the range of the enemy line. The other supporting ships, are currently under fire from a Venator class battleship, a Dreadnought class heavy cruiser and a Pelta class frigate. The Venator has an IPV in picket position.” The droid prattles on in a monotone as the Providence’s tactical display adjusts on the screen.

  “So his supporting ships are too out of position for support and his fighter screen is depleted. The fighter casualties are higher than expected.” The Commander says.

  “Yes, sir. They were used far more aggressively earlier on. Often without any further support. The enemy seems to have managed to best them. We are down to five wings of fighters and bombers on the lines. Your units’ two wings are currently in reserve.” The droid replies.

  “How did the Tri-fighters fare? I believe despite finishing their trial runs I may gain some political favor for a decent report on their efficiencies.” Hatha says to himself.

  “They managed a 1 to 2.7 trade, though they failed completely against a squadron of R-41 Starchaser fighters, believed to be attached to Commodore Dericote’s personal flagship, sir.” The droid replies in monotone.

  “So they can still be outwitted by skilled pilots. Not surprising, if disappointing. I suppose their programming will need to continue to be continuously upgraded.”

  “As with all weapons of the Confederacy, sir.”

  “Hm. Move my ships to join the center. It appears they are weak there.”

  “Excluding the command vessel?”

  “As usual. We shall remain in the back line for now.” The Neimoidian says. Time to test the metal of this so called Hussar. He scoffs at the name. Blatant propaganda, if catchy.