The alarms are blaring as I jump out of my bed. The last twenty odd hours had continued almost silently. No further attempts had been made by either side to push the other out. The Republic Forces didn’t have the numbers and the Separatists didn’t have the firepower to deal with the Golan platforms. I’m glad I slept in my uniform, as all I have to do is slide into my boots and grab my cap and gloves as I make a sprint for the bridge.

  My left glove slides on smoothly and I pat down all the vital belongings as I finish my run to the bridge: “REPORT!”

  “Incoming vessels, sir!” Mi-Kus reports.

  “GIVE ME LOCATIONS DAMN YOU ALL!” I snap. I realize my mistake immediately after the words leave my mouth. I take a deep breath in and slowly let it out.

  “Locations.” I say, my voice calmer and more controlled, “please.”

  “Coming in from the south.” The sensors operator answers.

  “Prepare a half wing of fighters for possible escorts.” I order as I take the offered cup of caf from an Adjutant Sergeant.

  “Exiting. Sir, we’ve got one Venator and multiple pings of smaller support ships.” The sensors officer reports.

  “Hail ‘em” I order, my agitation not fully gone from my body.

  “Transmitting.” Sergeant Slas reports. A moment later a hologram of a long eared and snouted sentient appears beside a Human officer and a slightly anxious and stressed looking Kubaz, though it was difficult to be certain with the long snouted Alien’s gasmask.

  “This is Senior Captain Wilood of the Supremacy and Taskforce Gungan. I have with me the ships of the 2800th Logistical Section, my Venator and two Arquitenses. Beside me is Representative Binks of the Gungan People of Naboo and Republic Intelligence Lieutenant Zizzigor Fa. The Gungan people have lent the Republic their army to support the ground forces below.” The man introduces himself.

  “Senior Captain, a pleasure. I am taking command of your forces. You are to deploy the ground forces at the Capitol. I want all other support vessels to begin unloading any ammunition to our front line ships. The Arquitenses are to join up with our rapid response units and once you have returned from the surface you are to join the battleship reserve. Deploy half of your fighters and bombers to join the patrol routes, the rest is to escort your ship and provide air support to any requested positions surface side. Any questions?” I ask.

  “No, sir.”

  “Then hop to!” I bark.

  “Yes, sir.” The Captain says as he snaps a salute, the gesture followed quickly by the Kubaz. The Gungan Representative attempts a poor imitation. Then the holotransmission goes blank, returning to the tactical display.

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

  “Quite surprised they made it this quickly.” I mutter.

  “Naboo is a bit less than a month’s travel usually.” Mi-Kus confirms my suspicions.

  “About a week to the Core, a week to the Tion cluster and another week to navigate to here. They must have gone through Hutt Space.” I deduce.

  “Even then it’s about three weeks. That ship is far too fast. A prototype hyperdrive?” Mi-Kus objects.

  “Possible, but it’d surprise me that they mounted something on a Venator, those ships aren’t exactly known for having enough power to keep all systems running at once. Though a Venator alone could also make use of quite a few smugglers routes between the homeworld of our Supreme Chancellor and Hutt space. Do you think the Kubaz Intelligence officer is their navigator?” I ask.

  “If so, whoever organized this has used up many favors. I doubt the neither the Bothans, the Kubaz or the Hutts would allow any of the routes to be used without their permission.” Mi-Kus says.

  “We’ll need to see if we can salvage the records from her navigations computer before the Supremacy leaves system.” I order.

  “I’ll see what we can do about it.” Mi-Kus agrees as we watch the miniature versions of the arrived vessels race towards the safety of our formation, the fighter escorts soaring towards them to act as an escort. Simultaneously, the large central hangar bay of the Venator opens to begin discharging her squadrons of fighters and bombers.

  “No enemy movements, sir.” One of the sensors officers reports.

  “Their southern line must be too weak to sacrifice any ships to intercept.” I mutter as a plan starts to form in my mind.

  “Sir?” Mi-Kus asks, his voice full of suspicion.

  “Divert the Arkania and Mon Cala’s Joy to our southern line alongside three Acclamators and a rapid response unit. Scramble ten squadrons of fighters and at least a full wing of bombers to move to our back line to join them in a southern offensive. Move the rest of our back line closer to the northern line and deploy all our hidden corvettes and fighters. I need the north to look stronger than it is. Move the Squeak’s Pride into the north line proper and up readiness throughout the formation. We’ll break them here and now.” I bark, my orders echoing through the room by comms officers.

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  “Sir?”

  “I have an idea.” I mutter, my eyes fixed in a durasteel like gaze at the tactical display.

  “Oh dear.” I hear Mi-Kus mumble in response.

  Commander Blox Hatha was not happy. His superiors had denied his request to begin an attack against Toong’l and Iego. The only sentient who had even considered it was Admiral Trench, but he was overseeing his own campaign along the Perlimian and was already fighting the Corporate Alliance and Techno Union to support his offensive, never mind spending his political capital on supporting Hatha’s plan, despite the Separatist Admiral admitting the insights behind it.

  The bastards from the Corporate Alliance had flat out rejected his plan as too risky. Bah! The risk of failure at Mon Cala was almost three times larger with their apathy towards aggressive action. They would have listened if he had received his justified promotion, but no! And now his fears were becoming justified. Republic reinforcements have arrived, though from where he as having trouble pin pointing. They certainly weren’t those of Baros, the bribed local administrators and Separatist sympathizers had promised that much.

  “Sir, enemy forces have begun rapid movements. A flotilla section of corvettes have emerged from multiple hangar bays and drydocks. Multiple cruisers are moving towards the southern lines and northern lines. Hostile Venators appear to be facing southwards.

  “Blast. I was hoping the Republic dogs wouldn’t realize our weakness there.” Hatha complains. He was right to be sour, another day and the moon’s position would make any move for the southern shipyards impossible for another week. He had counted on the Republic’s apathy towards the south to keep them as the primary jamming force. Ugh, he had planned for them to pounce upon the bastards at the very last second of his own offensive. Nothing he could do about it now.

  “I suggest we divert our back line north west to our northern line and push the enemy hard on their flank. We may be able to push them back with so many of their capitol ships diverted to their southern advance.” The droid offers.

  “First of all, contact our allies and request further reinforcements. I believe the 982nd Cruiser Section should have arrived at Delalt a few days ago to ensure our victory after the battle. They should arrive soon despite our delay.” Hatha orders.

  The droid nods as it speaks: “As you wish, Commander.”

  “Divert half of the ships in our back lines to the northern line. We may not be able to press the advance this instant, but I would be prepared for when our reinforcements have arrived. Move our northern line closer to the Republic forces to begin a long range exchange of fire. We shall pummel them and bring the fear of an imminent attack into them before striking with our reinforcements.” Hatha concludes.

  “I recommend an amendment, we should only add a third of the vessels in the back line to our northern line. When our next reinforcements arrive in approximately three hours we should be able to exploit any weaknesses of the enemy.” The droid cautions.

  “Very well. Commit our forces as advised.” Hatha agrees after a moments consideration.

  “Sir, as predicted, enemy forces are advancing against our southern line. The Mon Calamari Senior Captain in command reports, two Venators, an MC80, two MC75s, a Dreadnought heavy cruiser, three Acclamators, approximately one full flotilla of escorts and approximately a wing and a half of fighters and bombers.” The droid informs its superior officer.

  “Inform them to stand their ground and sell themselves dearly. See if we can send them fighter and bomber reinforcements by using the planet’s atmosphere for cover.”

  “Unlikely, sir. The recently arrived Venator has breached atmosphere and is deploying fighters and bombers.”

  “Send half a wing of fighters and bombers to destroy the descending vessel, any way possible. Droid fighters exclusively, the handful of squadrons of volunteers we still have shouldn’t be spent on a suicide run.” Hatha orders.

  “As you wish, sir.” The droid complies, silently relaying the orders rapidly, throughout the taskforce.

  A moment later a hologram of a B1 Commander appears to the side of the tactical display: “Um, sir. Enemy ships have begun returning fire. Their western flank has begun a full advance against our forces.”

  “Not unexpected. Carry on as previously ordered. They don’t have the firepower to defeat us without their Golans. Eventually they will push too far and be broken upon our line.” Hatha dismisses.

  “Um … sure, sir, but one of the Golan platforms has started moving a lot faster than it should with her shields almost fully active.” The Battledroid confesses.

  “What!? Bring it up!” Hatha barks.

  The hologram of the battlefield changes, focusing on the western flank and the surprisingly rapid advance of a Golan I platform towards the Separatist line. Hatha stares at the movements for a moment, confusion plain to see on his face. He considers the surrounding ships then jumps from his command throne.

  “Sir?” The tactical droid asks.

  “Dericote appears to be using tractor beams to push the vessel about. However I am unsure which ship is doing the pulling, never mind how he’s managed to manipulate the shield frequencies like this. The damn platform is surrounded by a multitude of Mon Cala vessels, it could be any one of them pulling due to their lack of standardization. Deploy my section’s reserves to the western flank.” Hatha commands, “They are to disable as many of the capitol ships around the platform as possible.”

  “As you command, sir.” The droid replies.

  “I hate to interrupt, sir, but well the enemy is pushing us back. I don’t think We’ll be able to hold out for too much longer.” The B1 Commander says, nervously tapping one of its large fingers against its hand.

  “Deploy three Vulture squadrons to give immediate support.” Hatha orders in response.

  “As you command, sir. I would also recommend adding a squadron of Hyenas and Headhunters to the relief force.” The Tactical droid advises.

  “Very well, have them move with the primary relief force, but send the Vultures as a vanguard. You are dismissed, Commander.” Hatha finally orders.

  “Yes, sir, thank you, sir.” The B1 replies before snapping a salute. The Hologram disappears and Hatha turns his gaze back to the tactical display.

  “This could turn problematic. If Dericote has figured out a way to move a Golan platform without compromising the platform’s shields he could force us away from the northern docks.”

  “And the southern docks, sir?” The tactical droid asks.

  “They are already lost to us. I wouldn’t be surprised if Dericote goes as far as setting charges in them to ensure that. He has enough ruthlessness for something like that.” Hatha says, nodding to himself.

  “Are you certain, sir? My calculations agree he will not retreat without bloodying our forces, but I do not think he would go so far. A primary shipyard citizen knows how crippling such an action would be.” The droid objects.

  “Exactly why he will do it. He was ruthless enough to invade a neutral world for raiding a supply depot. He is certainly ruthless enough to economically cripple an entire world out of spite.” Hatha affirms his stance.

  “As you say, sir.” The droid says, adding its gaze to the tactical display as the hologram of a Munificent went dark.

  “Set up the explosives asap and pull the Venators back to the back line. We’ll establish a rear line with two of the Acclamators and one of the MC75s. The other ‘75 alongside two frigates are to ensure the area between the rear line and back line, well pull them all back just before the moon makes it impossible to access the yards. Everything else is to join us at the front line. Pull the Dac’s Revenge off of the first Golan I to begin moving the next defense platform up.” I order.

  “Sir, shouldn’t we press the attack there more?” Mi-Kus questions.

  “I don’t want us to overextend our line. I don’t trust the Seps to have left a handful of nasty surprises in the southern shipyards. Thus planting explosives and leaving a substantial rear and second back line.” I explain.

  “Understood, sir.” Mi-Kus replies.

  Finally it was feeling like the battle was going my way. I no longer had to worry about splitting my attention or being outnumbered. I could finally move and breathe and fight like all of the heavens were before me and all I needed to do to get there was smash my fist through the face of the sky. I could almost taste victory.

  “Sir, enemy forces have abandoned the north north west back line. They’re moving it to reinforce the north line. Moving to flank our Golan I platform we moved.” Sergeant Welder says.

  “Divert the Resolute to support the west flank alongside her pickets and the two new Arquitenses.” I order.

  “The Supremacy has successfully deployed the Gungan Army, she has begun her assent.” I hear one of the sensors officers report.

  “Maker, victory is within our grasp. Helmsman, to the front line!” I bark.

  “Sir, incoming vessels!” Welder shouts.

  “Belay the order!” Mi-Kus barks.

  “Locations!” I order.

  “North. No, north west, sir.” Sergeant Welder amends.

  “Enemy reinforcements.” I mutter.

  “Should we amend the plans?” Mi-Kus asks.

  “Pull the ‘75s from our rear and secondary back line to our front. Once the explosives have been planted pull the rest of the ships there to the back line. Keep us here and launch any fighters still in reserve. Victory may have slipped our grasp for a time, but not again.”

  “Sir, we’ve got sensor lock. One Providence class battleship, six Munificent class cruisers and … eight, ten, ten Gozantis, sir.”

  “Blast it.” I mutter.