I had expected this. Maker on high I had been dreading this, but it seemed inevitable now. I had tried to find some way out of this, even considered faking illness, but it was no use. The moment I awoke from about sixteen hours of sleep I knew this was coming. I was being personally recalled to Coruscant.

  “On a temporary basis ma’am?” I ask Fleet Admiral Honor.

  “Of course. You have proven yourself very proficient in the North East Slice Command. It will only be a few days of celebrations, tactical briefings and the planning of future ship movements, alongside the great honor of Supreme Chancellor Palpatine himself granting you your promotion. I’m honestly only mildly disappointed that I am unable to do it myself, but I suppose if you’re being used for the cameras the Chancellor would want some nice pictures with you.” The Admiral replies.

  “This seems highly unnecessary ma’am. I mean no disrespect, but during our past conflicts it was not unusual, or uncommon for even larger promotions, such as the one I am to receive to be done without a recall to the Core. I know for a fact that Fleet Admiral J’on Paulus Jones, during the New Sith Wars, received his promotion to Admiral after winning the fifth battle of Corsin after the almost immediate death of his superior officer. There was also-” I try to argue.

  “I can understand your reluctance, Commodore, but you are expected. This was a victory which lasted longer than a week without a higher ranking naval officer able to relieve you. It is very much expected that you receive your promotion, let alone receive it from his excellency.” The Fleet Admiral presses.

  “I am sorry, ma’am. If it is required I am sure I can make the journey in a couple weeks, after finishing my reports and reorganizing my forces and-” I attempt.

  “Negative, Commodore. You are to depart on the Resolute. His excellency requested you arrive alongside General Skywalker. It will look good to the people if the Black Hussar and Hero with no fear arrive together after a stunning victory.” The Admiral counters.

  Finally I sigh and, despite lacking permission, take a seat in my office chair as I speak: “Ma’am, I understand the propaganda value-”

  “Refrain from that word in the future, Dericote.” The Admiral interrupts.

  “Sorry, ma’am. I understand the … public relations aspect his excellency is going for, but as you’ve said yourself this battle has gone on for over a week and pulled in far too many forces from the surrounding areas. We are vulnerable, they are even more vulnerable and I do not feel good, let alone content, with leaving during such a tumultuous time. The Dac shipyards are still undergoing repairs alongside the Merchant Fleet and my temporary mixed command. I know for a fact that there is only a singular ship remaining from the 503rd Light Outer Rim Section. The 409th Outer Rim Section only exists on paper, because despite having most of the crew and officers remaining, the unit only has two Z-95 Headhunters and three Y-Wings to its name. The 99th Battleship Section has lost half of her ships and almost half of her crew compliments and over half of her fighter compliment. Never mind the pummeling the planetary defense units from Lothal through Targonn and along the Tidal Circuit suffered in this battle. Unless I receive reinforcements, a promotion will not do the area any good and neither will any puff piece his excellency could garner from it.” I plead, my eyes slightly wider than usual and my voice strained.

  My superior steels her gaze at me. She takes a moment of consideration before she answers: “Get to Coruscant. I will support reinforcements to restore the 409th and 503rd alongside the already planned units heading your way to fall under you command. I am sorry to say that the 99th will not be reinforced at this time and neither will it fall under your command. However the 28 th Battleship Section was already heading towards Dac. The unit’s three Venators should comfort your concerns. Maybe if you manage to spin this battle well you could receive further reinforcements along your return journey, Commodore.”

  I grab on to the lifeline, despite it forcing me to leave my men here: “Yes ma’am. Thank you ma’am. I will prepare for my imminent departure.”

  The Admiral nods: “Good. I will see you in a week and a half. I do have to inform you, that General Skywalker has requested a platoon from your Hope Company to be placed under his command and integrated into the 501st. From what his request he seems to be impressed by your company’s boarding actions and wishes to have a company sized unit with similar experience.”

  I blink in confusion. After a moment I speak: “I will discuss it with my Clone Captain. I will not force any Clone to depart from the Company, but I would not be surprised if some of the more battle seeking Clones would volunteer.”

  “Very well. The unit is to depart with you. Dismissed.”

  I snap a salute as her hologram disappears. I slump into my chair and let out a deep sigh. I had lost too many men. Maker why was I being promoted? I stop myself from grabbing a bottle of liquor as that question hits me. Why was I being promoted? I didn’t have a long enough service record for it to be on seniority. I had a decent number of successes and minimal losses under my command … until Dac. I shake my head at that, those would certainly not be enough for a promotion on success. Maybe desperation? But why wouldn’t they just send a karking superior officer to take over? Who would even benefit from my promotion? Me, obviously. Being one of thousands of Admirals would garner me more influence throughout the Navy than being one of tens of thousands of Commodores.

  Clearly it is benefiting the Republic propaganda departments and through them the Chancellor and … Director Isard, if General Solomahal was right about him. It would also benefit the local governments to a certain extent. Certainly those of Targonn, Lothal and Mon Cala for volunteering ships to my temporary command. I feel like I’m missing something here.

  Fondor would benefit by having another scion at a high military rank. The entire Rimma Trade Split would benefit by having me council restraint in whatever peace deal they garner. My family would certainly gain a lot, Maker with my help pa’ might even be able to fully regain our familial prestige.

  Wait a second. I turn to my terminal and start punching in codes. If I was being promoted to Rear Admiral, wouldn’t that mean that I should be gaining another squadron? I already had my 97th , which consisted of the 347th , which was a full line section, alongside the 159th which was purely logistical. The 360th was supposed to be the final addition to my 97th , giving me a total of four heavy cruisers, four cruisers, four frigates, three transports and three corvettes, alongside nine fighter squadrons and five bomber squadrons.

  Where would I get a karking additional squadron? Would they hitch me with another logistical section and reorganize my units into something that would clearly be the most barest of minimums? I suppose they could incorporate a full battleship section into my command, but I doubt they’d be willing to give me five capitol ships, especially if they’ve already sent eight in total and lost half. But what would even be the point if I wasn’t given the forces worthy of the position … oh. Right, this is all purely for propaganda. It wouldn’t matter to anyone outside of the Navy.

  I grab the bottle of whiskey and pour myself a glass. This will be another long day.

  Figuring out which Senior Captain among my mixed temporary command had the most authority, legitimacy and experience turned out to be more difficult than I would have hoped, but less than I had feared. It really had been narrowed down to either Senior Captain Laff Praut of the Arkania and the 99th Battleship Section or Senior Captain Hum Hugh of the Avarice and my 159 th Logistics Section. In the end I decided to place Senior Captain Hugh in overall command, with Senior Captain Praut as the second in command.

  It seemed to be the best decision, placing the wounded units under the command of an officer experienced in logistics and navigation. Apparently the area was already seeing more reinforcements and supply ships, which filled me with relief. It seems as if my pleas to Fleet Admiral Honor had not fallen on deaf ears. Already Senior Captain Jim had temporarily moved his command to the Acclamator Little Dac as the Pride of Toong’l and Shining Star were placed into drydock to repair them and return the 599th Outer Rim Section into something actually useful in more than simple patrols.

  However before I could actually oversee anything productive happening I handed off squadron command to Faxe and boarded the Resolute with R4, my best uniforms, my usual keepsakes and belongings and as much liquor as I could fit into my luggage without triggering R4’s poison detection. This turned out to be three bottles of Corellian whiskey and an ale bottle filled with technician’s moonshine. Also with me were about twenty Clones originating from my Hope Company being lead by Lieutenant Wildhog.

  A last minute suggestion, thankfully not an order, was to bring along whatever was left from Little and Bastard squadrons for a flyby of the Senate district. I canned that suggestion before I even finished reading it. Little Squadron had suffered seven fighter losses and five pilot losses while Bastard Squadron lost five bombers with all hands, excluding a sole astromech. Lieutenant Solo and every remaining member of Bastard and Little Squadrons would certainly mutiny against the order if I went through with the … offer.

  So thankfully I was only with R4 and the volunteers as I transferred to the Resolute for transit.

  I feel our shuttle land and I moved to stand up, I was followed by R4. As the doors of the LAAT open I was only mildly surprised by what greeted me. A Clone Captain, I think his name is Rex and the Togrutan Padawan of Skywalker. I let out the smallest sigh possible as I step off the ship. The damn Jedi just can’t seem to get any sort of naval tradition right.

  “Welcome aboard the Resolute, Commodore.” the child greets.

  “Yes, thank you for having me aboard. This here is my personal droid R4-K3. I am sorry to take away space from your usual crew. However I am happy to make your acquaintance, Padawan, Captain.”

  “It is our pleasure, Commodore.” The Padawan says, with only a hint of mirth.

  “I am more than willing to work if required, though I believe that after the recent battle I will be spending an annoying amount of time finishing up my reports and a paper I’ve had on the back burners for a bit longer than planned.” I offer.

  The two in front of me exchange a conspiratorial glance before the Clone responds: “I’ll bring you to the bridge. You can have the ship's commander quarters, as Admiral Yularen is with the rest of the Fleet.”

  “I’ll move my things there. Usual schematics?” I ask.

  “Yes, sir.” The Clone replies.

  “I’ll be on the bridge in ten minutes.” I reply as I lug my luggage towards the closest elevator.

  It did not take long at all. I placed my luggage down within the clean and impersonal quarters before heading up to the bridge, adjusting my officers cap a final time as the doors opened to reveal the bridge of the Resolute.

  “Commodore on deck!” A Clone barks out as I enter the bridge. I frown, that wasn’t naval tradition. Barking that out for anyone other than the Fleet Admiral was too disruptive. I march up to the tactical display and am met by a couple Clone officers. I receive a quick salute from a Clone Sergeant, who appears to be in command.

  “ Sergeant Appo, sir. 501st.” The Clone greets.

  “You are in command of the bridge?” I ask. Why would they have a Sergeant in charge unless every station lead was incapacitated?

  “Yes, sir. Only until General Skywalker shows up, then he’ll have it.” The Sergeant replies.

  “I see.” I mutter as I glance onto the tactical display. It was displaying our planned route.

  “I would adjust a couple of these routes, there are a couple quicker lanes we can use this time of year.” I advise.

  “I’d need to run them by the General.” Appo objects.

  “Of course.” I reply as I punch in the alternative routes the purrgil favored not to use during this time of the year. Maker knew why. Those animals barely made any sense at all.

  I had just finished punching in the last alternate route as Skywalker snuck up from behind: “What are you doing, Commodore?”

  I flinch slightly as I turn around and snap a salute to the General, why hadn’t that overeager bridge crier barked out his arrival? I start speaking despite my train of thought: “Sir, I am adjusting the hyperspace routes. We should be able to shave off a day or two thanks to the more direct routes, usually plied by the purrgil, being unused this time of the year.”

  “At ease. Why aren’t these routes used more often?” The General asks as he inspects my work.

  “Usually these routes are only useful for smaller ships, on account of the purrgil. You need locals, best case local smugglers or generational spacers for good yearly charts on their migrations.” I supply.

  “You have experience in this area?” The General asks.

  “I have similar experience in the Rimma Trade Split. You only need to convince one good spacer to help you and you can shave anywhere between a couple minutes and an entire day in travel depending on things as simple as the seasonal solar flares of a rogue sun, the migrations of purrgil or the movements of rogue worlds.” I reply.

  “How did you gain the information for these charts?” Skywalker presses.

  “Won the charts between Hutt space and Dac in a game of sabbac back on Dac. The charts I use for the north I managed to swindle Ohnaka for in exchange for something I helped him with a couple months back.” I answer.

  Skywalker considers my information for a moment before answering: “We’ll use your adjustments.”

  “Thank you, sir.” I reply as the ship jumps into hyperspace, leaving my unit behind me.

  I would like to say I was mostly relaxed on my journey to the core. However a combination of finalizing my paper on the use and doctrine behind the AT-TE/b, finishing my reports on the Battle for Mon Cala and taking on a couple shifts of bridge duty, I remained overly high strung until we had exited Hutt space.

  I finally managed to relax a tad as we traveled through the territory of the slaver scum. I wondered if we could subjugate them after the military build up of the war. Probably not. The Hutts were notoriously linked with half of the crime syndicates in the known galaxy. It would be like fighting a group of terrorists on every world, not to mention any mercs they had.

  I sigh as I walk up to the bridge. We would be out of Hutt Space in a couple minutes, exiting near Daalang, before turning onto a hyperspace lane almost parallel to the Nanth’ri Route the Republic controlled, bypassing the Hydian way, before merging with the Corellian Run and taking her up to Coruscant. I take a sip of caf as I emerge on the bridge and hear the telltale bark of my command as I take a look at the navigation computer.

  “Commodore.” The voice of a Clone says, I haven’t figured out the small differences of this unit yet.

  I turn to see Captain Rex, with Wildhog behind him, a slightly manic grin on my former subordinate’s face.

  “Captain Rex, Lieutenant Wildhog.” I greet.

  “Hiya, Commodore.” Wildhog says.

  “Is there a reason from tearing me away from my beloved maps?” I ask.

  Captain Rex clears his throat before he speaks: “I had some questions about your doctrinal drills. Lieutenant Wildhog has tried to impart the sense behind them, but-”

  “He thinks, you’d do a better job, since you were the one who put stylus to pad, so to speak.” Wildhog interrupts.

  “Not much to say that isn’t in the doctrinal report. I know Wildhog has successfully carried out more boarding actions with the doctrine than I and actually uses Republic standard equipment.” I supply.

  The Captain blinks in surprise, turns towards Wildhog, who nods in affirmation to my statement before opening his mouth. He closes it before glancing at my holster and finally asking his question: “What weapon are you using? I also don’t think the holster is regulation approved.”

  “My families ancestral slugthrower. And the holster as well as my weapon of choice are acceptable under the rules of cultural artifacts. It falls under the same purview as a Mondalorian’s armor, if we ever got any of them into the Navy, or a religious symbol and any sabers, swords, knives and any other sharp object used by many peoples. The holster was made by my father to show his use of the weapon. He didn’t use it much before he thought I’d need the protection more than he does. At least the family crest is on its hip-side, and the sandgator circling the bottom did come from a hunting trip we shared, it was quite exciting. I do believe my thirty something times great grandfather has two red lightsabers on his, for his father’s kills during the Great Sith Wars.” I supply.

  “Didn’t know your ancestor killed two Sith.” Wildhog prods.

  “Oh, it’s in the records. First Fondorian Volunteers I believe. Though I find the holster marked with the decapitated heads of strike breakers far more important.” I supply as I turn back to the maps.

  “Are the slugthrowers better for fighting?” Rex eventually asks, his curiosity peaked.

  “Oh they can certainly be useful. Main issue is the fact that blasters are just more efficient. You can pack three hundred to five hundred rounds into your DC-15. I can only pack eight shots into my slugthrower. I have seen a couple models of hand held slugthrowers able to hold fifteen, but they lack the punch my family’s has. I also saw a couple slugthrower rifles. Also limited ammunition, but quite a bit of range.” I answer, not to mention the mantelpiece semi-automatic slugthrower I had seen when visiting great gramp’s cousins. Weird folks them, but they were also the only extended family that would talk to us for a good year after pa’ had slapped my cousin Grahem for trying to steal the family knife for an honor duel. That had been a fun year and a half.

  “Not to mention the noise.” Wildhog adds.

  “Though I do greatly enjoy the speed of the slugs I make.” I finish.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  “Are they faster?” Rex asks.

  “Just enough.” I say cryptically, a small smile growing on my face.

  “It throws us and the droids off. It’s usually: Bang! And not even a second later the droid’s missing a head.” Wildhog says.

  “More of a crack noise, in my humble opinion.” I supply as I make a minor adjustment to our next jump’s vector. It should allow us to stay in hyperspace for an extra hundred kilometers or so, followed by a harsher readjustment for the next jump. The navigation computer takes in my adjustment before green lighting it. I smirk slightly, that should shave off a couple minutes.

  “Never understood why you keep doing the small adjustments, sir.” Wildhog says.

  “Time is our most valuable resource, soldier. We have the same amount of it as the enemy. It comes down to the efficiency of our use. By shaving off a couple minutes here and a handful there, we regain time otherwise lost in transit. That is why, despite my reluctant misgivings with most mathematics, I continue the adjustments. Though said misgivings are also why I continue to expand my network of private maps from anyone who has a better version than I.”

  “Didn’t know you were a hoarder, sir.” Wildhog needles.

  I roll my eyes and turn to my former Lieutenant: “Wildhog, I know that they kept you in your growth tube a tad long, but as I can’t vouch for General Skywalker’s sense of humor, I’d advise toning it down a tad. Don’t forget I made Welder and Mi-Kus handle bundling the casualty reports for me for less.”

  “Whatever you imply, sir.” Wildhog says, keeping his shit eating grin on his face.

  “As to your … accusation. Is it really hording if I only have three practical sets.”

  “How many unpractical do you have?” Rex asks, a mild bewilderment in his voice.

  “Well, I use two regularly. One copy from Elix, that one I got off a spice trader over Yag’Dhul, I have a copy off of an older star chart from my time at Carida, had to bribe the professor with his favorite snacks and lead a couple presentations on the New Sith Wars for that one. I bought … three during my time on patrol in my first year of command. Oh, and the one in my family vault. So I suppose Three on my person at most times and five with my parents.” I answer.

  “For something which most people only have the government issue for, that sounds an awful lot like hording, sir.” Wildhog says.

  “Well, I suppose so. I always thought the official star charts on the civilian market were too plain or overly safe. I mean they leave out over ten well traveled routes in the Rimma Trade split alone! I don’t know a single spacer who would travel all the way down to Thyferra just to get from Fondor to Ghorman. The Military ones are a tad better, but still lack the finer adjustments that a generational spacer map or decent smuggler map has.” I argue.

  “Well I’ll leave ya to your hobby, sir, if you’ll leave me to mine.” Wildhog prods.

  “Wildhog, your hobby is crafting high grade explosives. I remember a certain report from Chain and the Head Quartermaster on you taking out the safety from a mine and packing more explosives into it.”

  “Well, it worked wonders on the Dictator-Forever’s door.” Wildhog mutters.

  “Wildhog I’ll miss having you under my command, but I am glad I’ll never have to worry about someone blowing up a barracks room because they made a bomb unstable then dropped it.” I needle.

  “Clover, that SNITCH!” Wildhog barks before running down to find his friend. I chuckle.

  “Did he actually.” Rex starts.

  “Oh yes. Chain wanted to keep it internal to the company, but Clover did, in fact, snitch on Wildhog. Not to me, mind you, but to the Quartermaster. Then the Quartermaster filed a report and I happen to flag internal reports involving any kind of explosions.” I answer.

  “And Skywalker now has him under my command.” Rex sighs.

  “It could be worse. At least with Clover his … worst tendencies are restrained, slightly.” I say as we leave hyperspace and begin the adjustments for the next jump.

  “Great.” Rex mutters.

  We passed into the Core safely enough. No sudden attacks, no raids, nothing. We linked up with a convoy of redeploying ships on our final stretch to Coruscant. I rejoin the bridge for our descent into atmosphere. I never enjoyed this part of procedure. The shields had to be powered down to keep the thrusters up and running at their absolute maximum output, putting strain on the internal systems of the ships involved, not to mention the stress this type of operation placed on the superstructure. The only ships which didn’t need to deactivate their shields fully were small corvettes, the occasional frigate, such as the Peltas, and the recently unveiled Victory class Star Destroyer, a cruiser of joint Kuati and Rendili make.

  The Venator strains against the gravity of the ecumenopolis as she descends into low atmosphere, then into the planetary parade grounds. I nod as the engines power down and the clamps embrace the ship. I move to the elevator, R4 trailing behind me. I double check everything on my person. Uniform is pristine, with recently polished boots, buckles and badge. My holster has been brought to a subtle shine and my slugthrower is grime free for the first time in a month, her metals and engravings pristine and calming. I tap down my pockets, emergency flask of engineers moonshine, pens and flimsy all where they ought to be.

  The descent is quick and my walk to the descent ramp is equally fast paced. I find Skywalker, his apprentice and Captain Rex already waiting at the top of the ramp as it begins its descent.

  “Did we ever get any instruction for how we’re supposed to stand for the cameras?” I ask the Clone Captain.

  “Didn’t say much. Other than you and the General being next to each other.” Rex answers.

  I sigh as I take the Clone Captain’s former position. The blastdoors open and I stifle my urge to hold my breath or look for a scarf. This was Coruscant, not home and not the vacuum of space. Instead I take in a deep breath as the ramp descends. I spot the gaggle of Senate guards surrounding the probable lackeys of the Chancellor and whoever else decided to visit the parade grounds from the offices within the Senatorial complex and the handful of military officers needed to ensure the meeting wouldn’t drag on too long to interfere with military efficiency. Opposite to them is a gaggle of well dressed folks with camera droids. The reporters. The ramp finally thunks to the ground and we begin our descent.

  “Captain, remind me why I am here.” I plead.

  “I believe you moaned about the damn cameras and public relations when Fives caught you drunk in maintenance.” Rex replies.

  “Yes, that … sounds about right. Still am surprised your unit doesn’t have any moonshiners.” I bemoan theatrically, though it probably wouldn't be for long. Clover was quite lucky when it came to not blowing up the stills he had. I'd give the 501st a month, maybe two if Clover was being patient.

  “Probably for the best.” Rex says quietly and we let the silence grow to ensure nothing scandalous arrives in the ears of the reporters and Senators.

  I ignore the welcome back speech from Chancellor Palpatine. It mostly consists of how brave Skywalker and I were and blah blah blah. Nothing of substance. Nothing heartfelt. Just nice words. Not even a congratulatory gift or promise. I suppress myself from rolling my eyes. It wouldn’t do to alienate any potential allies.

  Finally the speech ends and the crowd starts dispersing. I march quickly to Fleet Admiral Honor, before snapping a salute.

  “Commodore.” The Admiral says with a nod.

  “Ma’am.” I reply, lowering my arm.

  “I would introduce you formally to his excellency, unless you had anything to add.” My superior drawls.

  “No, ma’am.” I reply and fall behind her as she approaches the Chancellor, who was talking quietly with General Skywalker.

  “- a pity that Senator Amidala was needed to finish up the negotiations.” I hear his excellency finish.

  Admiral Honor clears her throat before speaking: “Your excellency. May I present, Commodore Thraken Dericote of Fondor. Acting Adjutant Administrator of the North East Slice Command, commanding officer of the 97th Outer Rim Squadron, the 347th Outer Rim Section and the Little Revenge. Temporary commanding officer of all Republic forces in the Dac system, current status delegating.”

  I snap a salute as she talks. I feel nervous, not every day I meet with the leader of most of the known galaxy.

  “A pleasure.” The older man says, “Please, at ease. There is no reason to be all stiff.”

  I follow his instructions: “If you insist, your excellency.”

  “I must say that Admiral Honor has chosen a fine soldier to take command over the North East Slice. I hope your command isn’t missing you too dearly.”

  “They will manage, sir.” I reply.

  “Very good. The Republic has need of loyal officers, such as yourself. Especially in such tumultuous times. Though I hear you are a tad more abrasive than the usual officer.” The Chancellor says.

  I hold my tongue as Fleet Admiral Honor picks up the conversation: “He has served with distinction despite such claims. He has only suffered the loss of about sixteen thousand Republic soldiers under his direct command, more than half of which only died in the engagement above Mon Cala. A tragic sacrifice, but quite a bit below preliminary estimates, a good showing for any officer. Especially one acting far beyond the expected duties of his station.”

  I suppress a frown. I had also lost a hundred thousand allied servicemen. I keep silent. The promotion was assured, but any reinforcements to save countless more lives were not.

  “Very well. I look forward to your promotion ceremony tomorrow.” His excellency says in dismissal.

  I and Admiral Honor snap salutes before moving towards the crowd of Adjutants and other military personnel.

  “That went well, Dericote.” The Admiral says.

  “If you believe so, ma’am.” I reply, my voice not betraying my internal doubts.

  “I would suggest mingling with some of the Senators if you want your reinforcements. I would recommend to talk up Senator Free Taa. He is a major lobbying power within the Loyalist Committee's Outer Rim faction.” The Admiral suggests. She hesitates a moment before nodding to herself: “You should also consider joining COMPOR. It would only serve to boost your influence with our Chancellor and his supporters.”

  I hesitate in turn. Joining the Chancellor’s fan club sat … wrongly in me. On the one hand it would certainly be practical for my career and it could provide additional information to secure the stability of the Republic, but on the other hand … It was risky: “I will take it under consideration, ma’am. Thank you mam, for your advice.”

  “Another piece of advice then,” The Admiral says, “The factionalism in the armed forces is increasing steadily as the war is dragging on. I will be sending you an invitation to a dinner for later in the week.”

  “If you insist, ma’am.” I reply.

  “Good soldiers are hard to come by, I hope you do not throw yourself away needlessly, Commodore. Dismissed.” The Admiral says. I snap a quick salute before slowly walking towards my mark. Senator Taa was a rotund Twi’lek and the representative of Ryloth with blue skin and constant hangers on from his home world and representative sector. More importantly he was an important supporter of the Supreme Chancellor, one with significant influence with various Senators of the Outer Rim. He was making polite small talk with a different Senator, human, slightly tanned with a well trimmed beard and black hair, as I approach.

  “-all I am saying is that I find your cuisine a tad over spiced without some kind of bread or tubers.” The Man finishes.

  “But you are ignoring the wonderful tastes by mixing them with un-spiced breads. All of the dish must be in the spice for it to be a fine example of my people’s culinary history.” Taa objects lightheartedly.

  “I fear we will simply have to disagree on that for the moment. At least we agree that at least having an even mildly spiced meal is better than none at all.” The Human presses.

  “I suppose so. I will see about asking some friends for their recipes and get back to you.” Taa says, before noticing me finish my approach, “Ah! Our dear Hero of the hour. It is a pleasure to meet you, Commodore.”

  “I assure you the pleasure is all mine.” I reply as I give a short bow.

  “Yes, for formalities sake, I am Senator Taa of Ryloth and here is Senator Organa of Alderaan.” The Twi’lek says gesturing to his companion. I nod towards the other Senator in recognition.

  Organa turns slightly towards me as he speaks: “I must say your record is quite impressive.”

  “My men deserve a large portion of the credit, Senators.” I say, trying to spread the credit around.

  “Of course, our brave soldiers continue to serve with distinction.” Taa spouts, “I must say I didn’t see the final casualty report, but with the new ships in the area the North Western Slice should be more secure than ever, no?”

  I pounce at the inquiry: “More secure in theory, but with the Mon Cala Merchant Fleet crippled, the damage to civilian infrastructure planetside and the damage to the orbital facilities … the temporary task-force needs extensive repairs and we’re still looking through which hulks can be repaired and which need to be scraped for parts. Our primary issue is the lack of support ships, booth for further logistical requirements and to replenish our losses. Our highest losses were within our fighter corps, followed closely by our corvette, frigate and light cruiser losses. It’s the main reason I allowed myself to come to Coruscant.”

  “My goodness. That will not do. I am sure a few ships could be spared from the inner Core’s reserve fleets.” Taa points out.

  “I shall make an inquiry on your behalf. It would be devastating to Republic morale if the victors of Mon Cala we’re wiped out, because we didn’t act on their request.” Organa agrees.

  I feel relief trickle down my spine: “I can’t express how thankful I am, that you are considering this, Senators. I have been pleading High command for reinforcements ever since I was given command.”

  “I am certain we can scrounge up something, as long as you promise to visit Ryloth after this dreadful war is over.” Taa requests.

  I feel a smile creep onto my face: “Sir, if you get me even a single flotilla of corvettes and enough rations to feed my men for a year, I’ll visit more than once.”

  The rotund Senator laughs: “Well then, I would love to see what you do when I manage to send you an entire squadron’s worth of ships.”

  “I suppose we will have to see.” Organa deflects.

  “I must thank you again, Senator. If you would excuse me, I see an old friend from my days at the academy who I need to talk with.” I say.

  “Of course, don’t let us keep you waiting.” Taa says.

  “I would also recommend seeking out Senator Bic Dededod Hod, of Abregado-rae. I hear he has been quite interested in getting to know you today, but he had a meeting with a delegate from Plexis about some criminal gang that was gaining traction.” The Alderaanian recommends.

  “I will see about making an appointment with him. It would be wonderful to see a fellow loyal citizen of the Rimma Trade split.” I say, “I wish you booth a productive and profitable day.”

  I give a quick bow as the two wave me off. R4 gives a whistle about making an appointment as soon as practical as I pass by the isolationist Corellian Senator. His hushed conversation with a Bothan was cut short as the furry mamalian’s ear twitches towards me. The two turn towards me and I give a short bow in greeting.

  “Ah, the Navy officer.” The Bothan says.

  “Thank you for your update, Senator Se’lab. I shall pass along the intel to my government.” Iblis says.

  “Of course, Senator Iblis.” The Bothan says, before taking his leave.

  “So, you’re the Republic’s current favorite propaganda piece?” Iblis says as he glances up and down at me.

  “Appears so, Senator.” I reply, keeping eye contact. Stern. The Senator seemed quite stern.

  “Well, I wonder what someone like you could do for Corellia.” The Senator muses.

  “Many of my ships are of Corellian make.” I say, trying to divert the conversation.

  “Yes, this war is quite profitable.” The Senator muses.

  “The lives lost are the part of the equation you are missing, Senator.” I state, feeling my tone turn slightly cold.

  “Of course. Suppose those would need to be considered. In that case I do believe the Separatists are winning the war.”

  “I suppose if we’re just counting corpses and using the official numbers you’re right.” I concede.

  “But it’s the real numbers, that matter.” Iblis agrees.

  “I quite agree, Senator. My unit has lost far too many men, material and ships recently.” I reply.

  “Not much I can help you with there. Corellia is a neutral system.”

  “And yet Corellian Engineering Cooperation and her subsidiaries supply the majority of the Republic’s corvettes, not to mention the … rogue elements supplying the Separatists with Gazontis.” I probe.

  “I do not control what a company does.” Iblis says, his eyes narrowing.

  “I was not implying you did. Though it would be highly practical if certain worlds, who have recently suffered significant damage to their naval defense units. I have from a reliable source, that worlds from Lothal through the Tidal Circuit are looking into buying more ships. I have from a reliable source that Dornea is upgrading their corvettes, they believe they will be able to do far better picket duty and interception than anything Corellia has, never mind the interest many of the previously alluded to worlds are showing in the Carrack class.” I press.

  “I will see about passing that along.” Iblis says, his tone neutral.

  “Now only if some ships could be rerouted to replenish the losses suffered over Mon Cala.” I say.

  “I said before, I have no sway on Republic military matters.” Iblis objects.

  “I know you don’t, but Corellia certainly does. Why do you think I am talking to the Senator from Corellia, instead of the Senators from Anaxes, Carida, Rendili or thrice cursed Kuat?”

  “You would have better luck with them.”

  “Rendili is being shunted from military contracts, the Dreadnoughts all need upgrade packages, which add a month to any previous production lines, so her shipyards have been pumping out outdated ships while trying to finish their upgrades to the production line and outsourcing any upgrades to shipyards and refitters closer to the front lines, loosing a tidy bit of cash in the process, not to mention slowing the rate of reinforcements. Duro is busy producing capitol ships for the Republic and I would rather jump from orbit than beg the Kuati for aid.” I reply.

  “Not all of them are bad.” Iblis says.

  “All of the Kuati are bastards, worse than the shipyard masters. Their workers are worth pitying. However that does not sate my question.”

  “You have nothing Corellia could want.” Iblis objects.

  “I have provided you with at least twelve systems who will likely become customers of Corellian Engineering, twelve systems, who may be willing to pay a slightly increased price for corvettes after comparing the ease of getting their parts and the ease of modification in comparison to their other options.” I stress.

  “And I am sure the local CEC representative will be very pleased with that, when I pass it along. Yet despite what so many offworlders think, CEC is not Corellia.” Iblis says, his tone showing the finality of his decision.

  “If you insist, sir. Do remember my willingness to cooperate in the future. Maker knows this galaxy isn’t getting any safer. I must apologize, but I really do need to talk with an old classmate of mine.” I say.

  “Sure, don’t let me keep you.” The Senator says and I finally tear myself away from the aggravating man with a short salute. I march off in a huff and consider grabbing at the flask just above my heart. It would mean opening my jacket, never mind the karking press, but Maker on high it is tempting.

  It is easier to sneak off with academy buddies than to drink in public I decide. It was an easy decision and one I plan on going through with.

  I woke up in a hotel room I didn’t recognize, hungover beyond belief and with an incredibly uncomfortable feeling creeping up my throat. I jumped from the bed and nearly fell over R4 as I rushed to a refresher. An incredibly uncomfortable upchucking later I was greeted by a cup filled with water and a curious looking R4.

  “Wha?” I mutter out as I wash out the taste before spitting out the water.

  A series of beeps and whistles informs me I have an itinerary. I blink at that.

  “The fuck ya mean itinerary?” I pause a moment to nurse some water before continuing, “I never use a karking itinerary. At most I’ll have a schedule for meetins’ an’ such, but never an itinerary.”

  A couple beeps and a datapad later and I blanch in abject fear. I had a Chancellor provided itinerary. I feel my head thud against the refresher. I take a deep breath before informing R4 of my current mood: “Of fuck all of this lizardshit.”

  I receive a simple affirmative from her in reply.

  I was still rather hungover when the first item upon the, I shudder at the thought, itinerary came up. A formal meeting with Fleet Admiral Honor for the final debriefing of the last few weeks of operations at Dac. I sigh as I enter the smaller conference room, R4 trailing behind me, and snap a salute to the Fleet Admiral. A glance around reveals two Adjutants to the Admiral alongside an indifferent looking Admiral, though to my surprise I also see Wilhuff Tarkin, a Commodore now according to his badge,

  “Fleet Admiral, Admiral, Commodore.” I say, nodding to each of them.

  “Commodore Dericote. We have with us Admiral Jerjerrod, I believe you have met Commodore Tarkin before and my temporary Aides Senior Captain Hornblower and Captain Bush.” The Director of Naval Operations introduces.

  “Gentlemen.” I reply in turn.

  “Yes, yes, let’s get this over with. I don’t understand why we are wasting Navy time on this formality.” Admiral Jerjerrod complains.

  “I agree, sir.” I say quietly.

  “The Chancellor requested it. So I find it quite necessary.” Tarkin argues.

  “Of course.” Jerjerrod acquiesces, “All I was implying is that there are better uses of the Navy’s time.”

  “That is beyond the scopes of this meeting, Admiral. If you find it necessary you may file a formal complaint.” Fleet Admiral Honor suggests.

  “Because that went so well for me last time? I question the practices of the Naval Procurement Office and suddenly I’m getting dragged in front of a Senate Committee and shunted to administrative duties!” The Admiral says, his tone getting angrier as he speaks.

  “Enough. You will compose yourself properly or be asked to leave.” Fleet Admiral Honor says, putting her foot down.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Jerjerrod says, a frown marring his face.

  “As I was saying,” Fleet Admiral Honor says, “We have gone over your reports. While some of your actions during your time as the Republic’s delegate were questionable, little fault can be found in it, especially after corroboration from his honor Chief Ri of Dac and Captain Ackbar of Dac.”

  “Your relatively questionable decision of departing to rejoin your Squadron seems appropriate as well, with the context provided by Senator Amidala and General Skywalker.” Admiral Jerjerrod continues.

  “And your performance during the battle was quite exemplary. I’m sure it will be studied for years to come. The Medallion of Honor is well deserved.” Tarkin finishes.

  I simply nod in response. A datapad is handed to me. I recognize the layout immediately. It was the notes from the present officers on my conduct alongside their performance reviews. I look over the major points and start skimming through the criticisms. Lack of aggression during middle stage of the battle, conservative use of boarding troops. I glance over on the positives. Good use of defensive structures and prioritization of strategic assets. Decent management of units and acceptable aggression when the Merchant fleet reunited. A commendation for out of the box use of strategic assets and another commendation for the defensive stratagems used. I nod again and pass the datapad to R4 for later study.

  “Anything I should hear now, ma’am, sirs?” I ask.

  “For someone who was highly interested in boarding actions, specifically aggressive ones, it is curious you only used them in limited amounts. I would ask you, why?” Admiral Jerjerrod asks.

  “I used it extensively during the opening stages of the battle. Primarily to secure contested ships and defensive platforms. Regrettably, as the lines were drawn, it became impractical after the opening stages. However I stand by the tactics and equipment used.”

  “You have used a modified duet of AT-TEs have you not?” Tarkin asks.

  “Yes, I have. The main gun was removed and a powerful set of lasercutters placed on their bottoms. They are usually embraced by the shields, if not the lasers are powerful enough to break shields locally and carve into the armor after. The AT-TE/b then cuts a hole into the hull and depressurizes the area. After that they cover the hole with the docking hatch from which the boarding troops can enter the now empty rooms and begin the boarding action.” I explain.

  “Not great if the droids magnetize their feet, but not bad either.” I hear the Admiral mutter to himself.

  “I expect a full report on how to modify the AT-TE to your specifications on the frontlines by the time you return to your command.” Fleet Admiral orders.

  “Yes, ma’am.” I reply.

  “Very good. Anything to add?” She asks.

  One of her aids clears his throat before speaking: “I was wondering, sir, what precautions were made after the battle to ensure this will not happen again?”

  I blink in mild confusion before answering: “I am lobbying for reinforcements and a restructuring of the North East Slice Command. I also made a footnote to my inferiors about deploying mines within system to target any incoming ships.”

  “I am sorry, sir, but what I meant was how are we ensuring the people of Mon Cala do not make the foolish decision to attempt secession again?” The Senior Captain clarifies.

  “We are tending and mending our relations with their governance. Officially there is nothing else we can do.” I answer again.

  “Very good. With that this meeting is finished. Dismissed. Dericote a moment please.”

  I exchange polite farewells with Admiral Jerjerrod and Commodore Tarkin as they leave. The Captains leave with salutes to my person as I wait. The door closes behind me and I wait for my superior to speak.

  “We have allowed the situation in the North East Slice to deteriorate far too much.” She says. I try my best not react, “For that I must apologize, Commodore. I also must apologize, that despite the influx of ships we expect to be heading your way, we have failed to secure permanent Jedi for the Command and failed to supply the area with ships and resources befitting of the strategic importance.”

  “Ma’am?” I ask.

  “I must admit, the situation in the Core is … tense. The only reason you are privy to this information is your imminent promotions.”

  “Promotions mam?” I ask. I had only heard of the one to Rear Admiral.

  “We are formalizing your position in the North East Slice Command and promoting you to the Marshal Administrator of the region.”

  I blink in surprise. That was … unusual. If a Navy officer was given a territory of such size and importance they would usually be an experienced Vice Admiral, if not an Admiral or Fleet Admiral. Why in the name of the Maker on high was I being given such a logistically important title and its duties? Was the war more desperate than I had feared?

  “The Supreme Chancellor has found that despite your lack in rank and time in active duty, that you are fit for this position. Despite my … objections and requests that at the very least you be subordinated to an experienced Jedi General, if you were to be the highest ranking officer in the command. He has deemed it vital that the status quo be upheld with a minimal change in window dressings.”

  “Ma’am, if this was such a concern, why has it taken so long? I have been repeatedly sending in reports on the absolute state the area was in, is in? I have since I was granted my Senior Captaincy of my 347th after the disaster at Dellalt.” I ask.

  “Because we have been getting the exact same reports and requests from every single territory outside of the inner Core. Maker we’ve been getting similar requests from worlds such as Empress Teta, Alsakan and Borleias. Every single world was requesting additional forces with your frequency and duress. The only worlds which didn’t were worlds with such extensive planetary defense forces, that there was nearly no further room logistically to support even a single battlecruiser, such as Kuat. Not to mention your relative successes. Especially your inroads towards the Perlimian from Mon Cala caused some forces we had earmarked for the area to be allocated to more dire fronts. We have failed you and many other worlds. For that the Navy must, informally you understand, apologize.”

  I blink in surprise. This was far more … emotion that I had expected from the Fleet Admiral. I simply nod in acceptance.

  “Despite that, we have finally gotten a grip on the situation. We have managed to divert multiple light sections and reactivated multiple other sections and squadrons by shuffling around units which were doing little more than look pretty and suck up supplies. Understand this only happened thanks to us court martialling two Admirals and eight Commodores for incorrect assessments of their strategic situation. Stars, I was in the courtroom more than my ship this year.” The Fleet Admiral says.

  “Are you saying I’ll have reinforcements? More reinforcements?” I ask, a hint of abject joy piercing my voice.

  “Yes, I don’t have precise numbers, but expect an additional twelve cruisers and a multitude of light cruisers, frigates and corvettes heading in your direction on your return voyage, alongside an officer to finally establish the office of the command and take over a large portion of the administrative duties.”

  “Can they not be sent immediately?” I ask.

  “No, they first need to assemble. I only know of three sections already heading towards your area of administrative duty. The 28th Battleship Section, which I have already informed you of, and the 2322nd and 2323rd Light Outer Rim Sections. You will be able to return to Dac with most, if not all of your reinforcements by the time the celebrations have completed.” My superior says, a slight smile gracing her features.

  “Thank you ma’am.” I say, standing as I do so, “You have no idea how much this means to me. I have … this is … wondrous. Absolutely wondrous. Maker on high, if I live to return to Fondor I’ll engrave your name with highest honors on the holster of my successor.”

  “Excuse me if I am incorrect, but aren’t those meant for the kills of the user?”

  “And the most highly respected associates, be they friends, those who have saved ones life or those who gave their life for ones own. Though I must ask how you managed to know so much of my world, ma’am.”

  “I first served under a Fondorian of the ten thousand. She was a wise old woman, though she died during the Stark Hyperspace War.” She says.

  “My condolences, ma’am.”

  “It is a part of our duty.” She deflects.

  “Of course, ma’am. If that is all, I would take my leave. I have arranged a meeting with the Senator of Abregado-rae.”

  “Of course, I will see you this evening for your promotion ceremony.”

  “Until this evening, ma’am.” I say, snapping a salute before leaving.

  The door closes behind me and R4. I start walking towards a shuttle to take me to the Senate building, with R4 loyally trailing behind me. I speak my mind to her as we walk the stark hallways: “Small Galaxy, isn’t it.”