I woke up with a mild hangover. After a cab ride back to the hotel I was staying at I had fallen asleep as soon as I'd hit the bed. Suppose it was smart of me to get as much of my packing done yesterday as possible before heading off to dinner. Packing while hungover was not very fun. Still I had managed to pack a spare case full of liquors and even a few candied lime-grapefruits, though I still preferred them whole.

  I was just about to enter a train to the parade grounds, from where the last of my ships would be launching, when R4 pushes a datapad into my hand. I glance at her in mild confusion before looking over the report. Huh, another section to be incorporated into the 97th. The 707th Outer Rim Section, consisting of a … that can’t be right. A Corellian CD-710 heavy destroyer and two Arquitenses.

  Who the kark could have gotten me a Corellian battleship? I step into the train as I continue to look into the report. It didn’t mention specific names, though from certain phrases I could ascertain that Senator Taa had a bit to do with it. Then it hit me, C.E.C. had likely put pressure on one of their clients to hand over the ship to the Republic for the duration of the war, so that the convoy of CR70, CR90, CSS-1 and of course the ever present Gazonti class corvettes can be escorted to their destination of purchase along the Tidal circuit and the to be established merchant forces and customs units of said circuit’s worlds.

  With the nationalization of the defense fleets the worlds I had mentioned to Senator Iblis, the many worlds would be almost desperate for any kind of defensive ships under their command. And with me purposefully excluding the Mon Cala Merchant Fleet and any customs organizations the worlds under my purview were going to abuse the loophole to ensure their defenses. I had essentially made the C.E.C. a crap-ton of credits through that alone, not to mention the possible precedent set by a Marshal Administrator excluding a certain group of forces, giving countless worlds the opportunity to contest the seizures of their own customs and merchant forces, or at worst give them a way to regain independent control over at least a portion of their defense. And lo and behold, C.E.C., as a corporation under the purview of an officially neutral system, could provide the mass of ships required by these countless worlds to rebuild their independent forces on the fly.

  Maker on high. This certainly changed a few things. Politics aside, i now actually had a battleship grade warship under my personal command. Should I change my flagship? No, my Little Revenge has served me very well so far and I trusted her crew and her capabilities as a ship of the line. Even if the Corellian warship was quite a tempting place to paint my flag. It shouldn’t be too hard, maybe shuffle around a couple officers, although I doubt I could move Mi-Kus onto the Corellian ship without angering her current Captain. What was the ships name again? I scroll through the document until I found it, the Constellation under command of Senior Captain Sever, a Corellian unsurprisingly.

  The train comes to a stop and I see the crowd gathering, a few officers saying goodbye to their loved ones, others already ascending onto one of the ships heading to a war-zone I have lead since Dellalt. Maker save me, all I wanted right now was my quarters on my Little Revenge and a couple hours alone with my liquors. I had no wish for a formal departure from this hellhole of a world or the politics involved with such a departure. I gaze upon the Corellian battleship and decide it won’t hurt to use as my mode of transportation.

  I see a couple faces I recognize, primarily within the bodies of a dozen odd Senators that had nothing much better to do and the few military officers I have come to know from either drinking together, from shared time at the Academy or from Fleet Admiral’s circle. The temptation to avoid them all is quite strong, despite it I slowly march towards Admiral Jerjerrod and give him a quick salute in greeting.

  “Rear Admiral, I must say I’m impressed by your successful acquisition.” The Admiral says.

  “Thank you, sir. I was surprised myself. I had hoped for maybe a few extra corvettes. Instead I’ve had a battleship chucked at my head.” I reply, trying to keep my tone light as I do.

  “Suppose that means you’ll be heading to Ryloth and Corellia after the war’s over.” Jerjerrod muses.

  I feel my eyes widen slightly in surprise. When did he catch that? Does he know about my more … questionable lobbying effort with Iblis? I feel my eyes narrow slightly as I answer: “Well, I suppose once the war’s over I’ll be heading to Fondor first.”

  “Yes, I’m looking forward to visiting Tinnel again soon myself. It’ll be nice to see my family again, though I fear my grandson Tiaan will still be working on Ord Mantell by the time I’ll have enough shore leave stored up to make the trip worthwhile.”

  “Your son works in?” I ask.

  “Logistical department. Warehouse manager, though he does some ship designing on the side for Corellian Engineering.” He answers.

  “A good job, far safer than anything close to the front.” I reply.

  “Wish he would have a bit more ambition though. Love him to bits, but Stars know he’ll happily remain where he is unless someone needs him.”

  Was that a hint? An offer? I hesitantly jump for it: “I could always use a couple extra hands supporting my command’s logistical department. Especially with our reinforcements. I think Colonel Bvinsk plans on establishing the primary administration over Toong’l. Should be about as safe as Ord Mantell.”

  “Thank you, I’ll pass the offer along.” He replies.

  “Is that all sir?” I ask.

  “Fleet Admiral Honor asked me to pass something along to you. She asked me to tell you to to be aware that the smarts haven’t had all their cancers removed.”

  So the Clique still suspected rogue agents in Republic Intelligence? That certainly wasn’t good: “I’ll keep it in mind, sir.”

  “Stars keep you, Rear Admiral.”

  “May the Maker preserve you, Admiral.” I reply.

  I peel away from the lesser of two evils and start marching towards the boarding ramps. Despite my attempt the greater evils still intercept me. Senator Taa, surprisingly fast for his size and girth, followed by Senators Organa, Dededod and a tanned man with a high bun and long beard. I give a short bow to the assembled Senators as they finish their approach.

  “Senators, a pleasure.” I say.

  “Indeed. What did I tell you. Many more ships than originally planned.” Taa toots his own horn.

  “And I am incredibly grateful, your honor.” I reply easily.

  “Of course. After all, there are only a few high ranking officers from our neck of the woods.” Dededod says, the equivalent of his species’ smirk covering his face.

  “Well there are a happy few of us.” I reply equally easily.

  “Which is why I wished to introduce you to Senator Fang Zar of Ghorman, representative of the Sern Sector.” Dededod says, gesturing with his arm towards the bearded man. I give a short bow in turn.

  “Greetings Admiral. It is indeed a pleasure.” The Ghorman Senator says, his hand moving from his chest outward.

  “So it is, your welcoming gracefulness.” I reply, the Ghorman term of respect for a superior falling from my lips.

  The Senator’s eyes light up slightly in recognition as I continue: “Is there anything I can help your esteemed persons with?”

  “Nothing currently,” Taa says, his smile easy, “we simply wanted to wish you good fortune in your upcoming campaign.”

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  “Well then, with your well wishes I don’t think I’ll be able to fail.” I reply, my tone remaining light.

  Senator Dededod’s eyes narrow slightly as he speaks up: “I did have another motive. I wished to ask your permission to ask your opinion on military matters when they come up. I would rather pay an occasional stipend to someone I can rely on than some random ex-judicial who somehow hasn’t managed to reenlist.”

  I consider the offer for a moment before nodding in agreement: “As long as I see the contract and find no conflict of interest, it would be my pleasure.”

  “Wonderful,” The Gados Senator replies, “I shall send you a few documents I’ve had sitting on the canals before your departure from system.”

  “I look forward to it. If you would excuse me, Senators. I am afraid I have some final checks to go through before departure.” I excuse myself.

  “Don’t let us keep you.” Taa waves me off.

  “May the Maker preserve you, Admiral.” Dededod says.

  “And you all as well.” I reply before heading towards the boarding ramp. Time to get off this hellhole of a world.

  The ship was quite nice, to be honest. A bit slower in hyperspace than most craft, but I suppose the armaments made up for it. Not to mention the squadron of R-41s, the squadron of ARC-170s, the squadron of NTB-630 naval bombers and the eight LAATs all snugly sharing the hangar of the Corellian made battleship. Whoever ended up signing off on this ship going to me at least knew my preferred fighter, something I could not say about the majority of my ships’ procurers. Though on the bright side I did get enough R41s in this convoy to replace the Headhunters that came with the 360th Outer Rim Section.

  Though I had to admit, not everything was going smoothly. We had only just gotten into the Bothawui system when I realized we would be delayed by a good extra three days due to the size of our convoy being unable to use a far more rapid hyperspace route I and the navigators had considered. Eventually the decision was made to split the convoy in two. The larger ships would take the longer route, under the command of Brigadier General Krugwolt, while the majority of the cruisers, frigates, corvettes and transports would race ahead under my command.

  Ships start peeling off from the convoy once we pass Junkfort Station. The cruisers, corvettes and other auxiliary ships moving to either their place of sale or to join up with their new places of mooring. Every now and then during the journey from the Core I feel the responsibility of the around fifty thousand additional sailors slap me over the head, but not now.

  Now the Acclamator I’m lording over is just about to exit hyperspace. I’m so close to my Little Revenge, my home away from home, that I can almost taste it. Then hyperspace recedes to reveal the beautiful blue pearl of Dac and her orbiting shipyards and vessels, enveloping the pearl in a familiar embrace.

  “We’ve got half a dozen ships dead ahead, sir.” The Captain in command informs me.

  “Thank you. Take us through the formation and expect the usual festivities.” I reply.

  “As you command.” The officer answers.

  I can see my Dreadnought line and Acclamator line awaiting me. My Little Revenge in dead center, a LAAT having just left her hangar bay to race towards the ship I’m standing on. As we approach the lines I recognize some unusual adjustments to my ships.

  My Little Revenge, her hull still blackened by soot and ash, now has a large winged broadsword, with a chain wrapping around the hilt and blade adorning her hull on the top of the engine block. I also notice a few additional sensor and communications antennae on her starboard bulkhead. Another one of the Dreadnoughts, higher up on the usual plane of operation, has a beautiful Fondorian twelve pointed star painted just below her bridge, with a sandgator sneaking along her bottom, its jaws about to snatch up the symbol of Fondor’s first colonists. The Final Dreadnought has a beautiful rendition of a Duro wandering-star painted right above her bridge. All three of them have some kind of new turret below their bridges, carving into the cargo holds.

  “Lieutenant, which ships are those?” I ask, as I notice the Acclamators in the rear line all have the same wings of the 120th sigil painted along the edges of their upper hull.

  “Shining Star has the markings above the bridge, Fondor’s Daughter has the twelve pointed star and the overgrown lizard, Little Revenge has the soot covered hull and winged blade, sir. Acclamators are the Dac’s Guard, Little Spark and Nail from our starboard to portside.” The sensors officer of the ship reports.

  “Oh, my men know just how to welcome me home.” I reply, a large smile growing on my face. I turn to the Captain a moment later, “I’ll be making my way to the hangar for the official transfer. I hereby return the bridge to you.”

  “It was a pleasure, sir.” The officer replies.

  “I look forward to our future cooperation.” I return simply as I begin leaving the bridge and make my way towards the hangar. I arrive to see Captain Chain awaiting me next to Seagull’s LAAT. The luggage I had had moved already sitting comfortably in the gunship’s internals with a quintet of Clones.

  “Captain, surprised to see you picking me up. I was almost expecting you to send Bugs or Daffy to do this kind of grunt-work.” I say, my voice upbeat.

  “Well, they volunteered, but I knew they’d muck it up somehow. So I left them with the Junior Captain to organize your welcome party.” He replies, his voice carrying the same tone as mine.

  “Suppose I should worry then.” I jest as we step into the gunship, R4 hopping on just after me.

  “Don’t worry, sir. With the Junior Captain on their assess, not to mention the other Captains present for the ceremony, their bickering should be under control.” The Captain replies as the gunship leaves the hangar for the void of space.

  “I saw the paint-jobs. I must say, they are beautiful.” I say.

  “You’ll need to thank Captains Sicato, Strom and Mi-Kus, sir. They’re the ones who insisted on the schemes. Senior Captain Hugh wanted them to remain as standardized as possible.”

  “Well, good thing she wasn’t directly in command of the 347th and 360th then.” I reply.

  “Whatever magic you pulled to shuffle around your officers and ships, she’s a tad pissed.” Chain warns.

  “She’ll get over it after her promotion.” I swat away his concern.

  “Promotion?” He asks.

  “Quite a few to be dolled out. A pity I couldn’t secure one for you, but I’m afraid we’re stuck with two companies of Clones, so there’s not enough justification to have you tested into the Commander’s position, but I’m sure I’ll find some room in the budget for a small pay raise. Though I suppose your hazard pay must be a tad large, with all the boarding actions I order. Is it still an extra fifty percent for those, or is it up to sixty, I can’t say I’ve been paying much attention to my own accounts with the war and my primary bank assets frozen due to their location on a Separatist world. So, how much is it?”

  Chain is starring at me as if I’m some kind of incredibly stupid mudpuppy. Eventually it’s one of the other Clones, based off of the helmet design it’s Vines, that speaks up: “Sir, we don’t get paid.”

  I blink in confusion at the Clones: “Of course you do, I know starting wages aren’t the best, especially with how the war started, but with all the boarding actions it shouldn’t be that bad.”

  “No, sir. We don’t get paid. We’re technically equipment.” Chain says, finally breaking his confused state.

  “No, that can’t be right.” I mutter, the absolute horror of the situation slowly dawning on me, “Well that is some major lizardshit. Maker on high, this requires action! Chain, I want you to ask Junior Captain Mi-Kus about his pay-stubs of the last two years, that should be comparable to what you’re owed and start running a tally for every man in your company, I’d suggest comparing them with those of the arms-men, including the officers, though the auxiliary Clones and Pilots will need their own comparisons, I’ll start working on something more concrete later. Once this war is over, I’ll do my best to get you and your men paid.”

  Chain is looking befuddled again. The other Clones in the ship are looking at one another in confusion too, though it’s a tad hard to be absolutely certain with their buckets on. Just as I’m sure one of them was going to speak up, maybe to ask for clarification on the most bare bones of plans I’ve ever conducted the lights go green.

  “Well, I fear we’ll need to table this until after the ceremonies. Chain, I would like to see you in my office sometime tomorrow or the day after. Now, whenever you’re ready.”

  It takes a few seconds longer than usual for the Captain to finish assembling his men and the rear door of the LAAT to lower. The six Clones descend first, followed by R4, to form two rows of my honor guard. Then I start to descend the ramp myself.

  The hangar is filled to the brim with my men. First are the rows of Clone troopers and arms-men. I start marching along the avenue the parted groups of my subordinates form. Next the technicians, gunners and other enlisted men. The raised platform with my officers awaits me as I pass by the non commissioned officers, then the commissioned officers. I finally ascend the small platform to be saluted by Senior Captains Hugh and Strom, with Captains Sicato, Molila, Junior Captain Mi-Kus and a handful of other Captains I haven’t had the pleasure of speaking to yet, following close behind with salutes of their own.

  Captain Hugh steps forward first, snapping the first salute: “The North East Slice Command and 97th Outer Rim Squadron are returned to you, Rear Admiral.”

  Captain Strom is next, a large smile on his face, as the second salute is given: “The 347th Outer Rim Section and 360th Outer Rim Section are once again under your watch, sir.”

  Finally Mi-Kus steps forward, snapping a salute as he speaks: “The Little Revenge is yours, sir.”

  My own smile is quite large now as I remove my sword from its ceremonial scabbard. I take a moment for the crowd to get a good look at the blade before I speak: “Soldiers of the Republic. I am sorry to say I left you at a time of need. However I have returned with not only reinforcements, but honors to bestow. As Marshal Administrator of the North East Slice Command and Rear Admiral of the Republic Navy, I have the annoying need for higher ranking staff and subordinate officers. As there are hardly any more experienced officers than those present, I will have to make do with the best instead of the dregs of other Commands. So, Senior Captain Hugh, please step closer.”

  The officer approaches, her face only holding a bit of confusion for the breach in the usual protocol: “Sir?”

  I return the blade to its scabbard with a bit of unnecessary flourish, then I remove a new badge from the satchel on my side and reveal it to her: “Senior Captain Hugh of the 159th Logistics Section. I hereby offer you the position of Commodore of the Republic Navy and command of the 401st Rapid Response Squadron of my 120th Battlegroup. Will you accept?”

  She hesitates a moment before nodding in affirmation. I remove her officer’s plaque and pin her new badge of office on her chest: “Then may you serve the Republic and her institutions for many years to come.”

  We exchange salutes, before she returns to the line. I wait for the applause to die down before speaking again: “Senior Captain Strom, closer please.”

  The Rendili Captain approaches me, with a knowing smirk on his face. I roll my eyes at him before I speak: “Senior Captain Strom of the 347th Outer Rim Section. I hereby offer you the position of Commodore of the Republic Navy and command over my 97th Outer Rim Squadron through the 360th Outer Rim Section.”

  “With such an offer, how can I refuse?” He answers.

  I remove his badge and replace it with that of his new rank. We exchange salutes and he returns to the line of officers as I call upon the next recipient: “Captain Sicato, approach please.”

  “Well then. I admit I am a tad surprised.” Luis mutters quietly.

  “You really shouldn’t be.” I counter before clearing my throat, “Captain Sicato of the Fondor’s Daughter, I hereby offer you the position of Senior Captain and command of the 347th Outer Rim Section. Will you accept?”

  “As the Maker bids, I shall.” Luis replies and I joyfully replace his badge of office with its replacement.

  One last Captain to promote: “Junior Captain Mi-Kus of the Little Revenge, please step forward.”

  “Sir?” Mi-Kus asks in mild confusion.

  “Junior Captain Mi-Kus of the Little Revenge, I hereby offer you the position of Senior Captain on the Little Revenge and First Adjutant of the 120th Battlegroup. Do you wish to accept?”

  Mi-Kus has stars in his eyes as he answers: “It would be my pleasure, sir.”

  I replace his badge and salute the man. He returns it promptly before returning to his position in. Deep breath in, slowly let it out. I wait for the applause to die down again. Only one thing left to do.

  I take a deep breath before speaking: “Soldiers. These haven’t been the only promotions that have to be dolled out, however you will excuse me if they are conducted over the next few days as I reacquaint myself with my command and prepare our unit for our next operation. Until then, I thank you for the reception and patience. A double ration of grog shall be provided in thanks to your loyal service to the Republic. May the Maker preserve you, the Force be with you and may the Navy keep you all in her cold embrace. For the Republic!”

  The replying echo of my last three words is as loud as a turbolaser blast. Now this, this makes it worth the countless hours of danger, the countless hours of boredom and all the sacrifice.