This had been a mistake. I had given Luis command of the 97th and Mi-Kus full command of the Little Revenge during my absence. This entire situation was such a spontaneous rush job that I even had to leave a message for Commodore Hugh to take full command of the 120th during my, hopefully short, absence. I also had to ask very politely to have three dozen deep sea sensors that could transmit long range transferred to the Rising Sun, the apparent name of General Krell’s command vessel.

  I also had to rush and send a message to my friend Tenant if he had any officer who would be interested in collaborating with me based off of the raw data I would be gathering in the upcoming mission and worryingly I had not heard back yet by the time I was standing on the bridge of the Rising Sun, without any familiar faces and the only comfort being my slugthrower and R4.

  I stood at Master Krell’s side as the ship jumped to Hyperspace. I was tired beyond belief after some twenty three hours of near constant wake. I was running on caf, fumes and a prayer. I wait though. The General stares at Hyperspace for a moment before turning around towards the tactical display.

  “Look here Rear Admiral.” He says while gesturing at our route.

  “Sir?” I ask.

  “Republic Intelligence implies there to be no resistance on our current journey. Do you think the local commanders may be preparing a trap?” He asks again gesturing with his hands.

  Trap, rap, cap, I re-adjust my officers cap. I focus and re-think what I’ve just been asked: “Well, sir, it is a possibility. I think it probable we may be intercepted on our return voyage. They haven’t attempted to do so in the past, but most other interception tactics have been at the very least attempted. An encirclement at Dellalt, an attempt to sure up their convoys when we were raiding them more often. They tried static defenses, but those failed without further support. They did hamper us at Toola by trying to repeat what they did at Dellalt, but that failed because they lacked defensive units for the listening station. I believe we should be safe in our approach. May I be dismissed, sir? I must admit I have not had much rest in the last two days.”

  “Certainly. The Captain will show you to your rooms.”

  I don’t remember getting to my rooms, but the sleep was momentarily wonderful.

  I woke up the next morning groggy, disoriented and not at all rested. I look at the clock and see I’ve slept ten hours. I get up assemble my uniform and manage to get to the mess hall in time for lunch of the rotation. I still chug down two cups of iced caf and tear into a sandwich. The third cup of caf is warm in my hand as I march up to the bridge.

  Master Krell is still observing the Holotable, which is depicting our current progress. Maybe an hour and a half away from the Separatist shadow port of Pakuuni. That had been the only potential obstacle in our way according to Intelligence. Wait that travel time doesn’t make sense. Yet before I can question our progress the General twists his wrist and greets me as my mind calms.

  “You spent quite some time resting, Rear Admiral.” He accuses.

  “Yes, sir. I wish it was more enjoyable, I think I may still be recovering for another day.” I reply. I still felt dead tired, though far more relaxed.

  “Very well.”

  We remain in silence. The ship whirs to life when battlestations are called ten minutes out. We are ejected back into realspace perfectly on time and I take a look at the tactical display to see four corona class frigates, two C-ROC Gozantis and a smattering of smuggler vessels, a handful of which immediately jump to hyperspace.

  “Prepare to open fire.” I hear the General say.

  “Sir, these could all very well be civilian ships.” I object.

  “Hmm. Very well, broadcast to all vessels they are to submit to impounding.”

  I suppress a sigh at the order. What was he thinking? We neither had the time or ships available to carry out his order: “Sir, we should simply pass on through. The threat of violence will be enough and for all they know we are headed to Drongar or Raxus. They can hardly sell anything of much value, with those ships which have already jumped, sir.”

  “Very well Rear Admiral, but if this mission fails it will be on your head.” The Besalisk says, pointing a finger at me in an accusatory fashion.

  “As it always has been, when the missions were under my full command, sir.” I reply, firming my jaw and starring the General down.

  “Fine. All ships. Move to next egress point and calculate the jump.”

  It takes a few minutes until the taskforce returns to hyperspace. The Jedi Master returns to his quarters and I let out a sigh of relief.

  The Jedi Master does not return for our exits towards Florn. Each time there were no Separatist ships and each time I simply order the taskforce to move to the next jump point and to make the jump. I did rest during the Hyperspace travel, but the entire ship felt tense and uncomfortable. I tried talking to some of the other Clone officers on deck, the bridge or the mess hall, but every time they simply avoid me as if I smelled like I had just crawled out of the sewers.

  My uncomfortable feeling returns tenfold. Something was not right here. Only the shiny Clones, the concerning number of shiny Clones, seemed even slightly optimistic. Even the pilots were quiet. I spent one rotation in transit walking through the hangars and there was not a single piece of nose art, not a single animal and not a single dirty slogan or uplifting phrase. It was all clean and nothing was obviously wrong but it still felt off.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  I even managed to send R4 around to check for any alcohol, be it regulation compliant or not. She found nothing. Not even a drop, other than the three bottles of whiskey I had brought with me, which had already been whittled down to half a bottle over the course of the evenings after my active duty.

  We finally approached the Karkarodon colony world, whose name I could not remember, though I was certain I had read it more than once during the briefings. The briefings I also hardly remember. Weird, that was weird. Why couldn't I? I stood at the bridge having already discussed the plan for deploying the deep water sensors with two of the bomber squadron leaders. Though calling it a discussion was generous to say the least.

  General Krell steps onto the bridge and I snap a salute alongside the bridge crew. He returns the gesture and approaches my position over the tactical display. His eyes are shining more yellow than before, but I was not an expert on Besalisk biology, it could simply be cycle thing. I would rather not think about that.

  “Sir, I have prepared the sensors for the raw data and the section is awaiting your orders.”

  “Very well.” Comes the response

  I turn towards the windows and watch as hyperspace recedes and realspace returns.

  “Three Munificent cruisers, sir.” I hear one of the Clones say.

  “Launch fighters and bombers and run the blockade. The Dreadnoughts can broadside the ships.” General Krell orders. I frown at the unnecessarily risky order.

  I move over to the outpost of fighter command and begin issuing orders: “Move bomber squadrons Aurek, Besh, Trinity and Havoc to support the Dreadnoughts. Have squadrons Danger and Scare move to screen the bombers. Deploy squadrons Duality and Singularity to run the blockade to deploy the sensors at their designated targets, I want Hooligan and Fool Squadrons to run interference with any ground based emplacements. I want the data gathered to be as accurate as possible. Good luck pilots, may the Maker preserve you and the Force be with you.”

  I receive nods as the comms officers relay what I said to the other bridge and from there to the fighter and bomber squadrons emerging from the innards of the Venator and the hangars of the Dreadnoughts. No Venator had a full compliment of fighters and bombers, but to see a swarm of 120 fighters and bombers assemble in front of the section was still awe inspiring to see.

  “Have the fighters and bombers been given their orders?” I hear General Krell ask from behind me.

  “Yes, sir. They’ve been given their first set of orders. From there I trust in the independent action of the Lieutenants and Wing Commanders.” I reply.

  “We will gauge the effectiveness of that, won’t we.” The Besalisk says to himself.

  We soar ahead of the Dreadnoughts and all ships begin exchanging long range fire. A couple shots impact the shields of booth sides, but all seems optimal on our side. Finally we’re in broadside of two Munificents and I watch as, finally, all eight heavy turbolasers and four medium turbolasers unleash their payloads into the sides of the Separatist ships.

  I was underwhelmed. Either the gunners were incompetent, which seemed rather unlikely, or the ship simply was not designed for this kind of action. I frown, why were we even using these ships as brawlers then? They were clearly more useful as carriers. The Munificents disappear from the windows and the turquoise world becomes more and more clear. I watch as the Duality and Singularity squadrons peel off from us alongside Hooligan and Fool squadrons and race towards the surface.

  The Y-Wings bearing the vital sensors that had, somehow, convinced me to even accept this temporary position. The Z-95 Headhunters screening for the Y-Wings and taking point. I turn to the tactical display to see the Dreadnoughts moving between the Munificents and unleashing their broadsides while fighters and bombers swarm all around the Munificents.

  I see the edges of the bridge’s windows light up with the light of an explosion as the central Munificent’s hologram blinks out of existence. Krell seems to nod at that while patting his arm with another. I feel happy, he’s acknowledging my orders meshing well together with his. Maybe he would give a recommendation for promotion, I don’t think I’d want his recommendation, that would certainly be an honor. Ugh, I raise a hand to my forehead and start rubbing away the sudden headache.

  “Something wrong, Admiral?” The General asks, motioning for me to come closer.

  “Nothing, sir, a mild headache.” I reply. I start tapping on my holster, my mind was feeling clouded, like during a bender. The feeling of everything happening too slowly or too quickly, the queasiness and – my train of thought is interrupted with a thump. I was on the floor. Why am I on the floor? I don’t remember … Why can't I remember?

  “General?” I ask, my voice holding all the terror I am feeling. Why … why is it so hard to think? So hard to remember? What did I eat this morning? Why did I agree to take this mission? I was swamped with work! Why does my mind feel like a fog? Why do I feel like I've been walking through a sandstorm? I know better than that! I- I- I …

  “You tripped Rear Admiral. Maybe you should head to the medbay?” Master Krell says in his usual dismissive tone.

  Yes, yes I shou-, “N-no, sir. I need to oversee the gathering of information myself. It … it would not do to do otherwise.”

  “Of course Rear Admiral.” The General replies with a frown. Was he unhappy? Maybe I should … no, for my academic integrity. For my duty as commanding officer. For my honor and pride. For the people I serve with, even if I don't know their names. Why don't I know their names? Why don't they have names?

  A Clone helps me up and I lean on the poor bridge officer as I start heading forward, where was R4? I give a short whistle, making a few more eyes drift towards me, but I don’t hear her reply. Where … I need to focus, one thing at a time. I push myself off from the Clone and mutter out a thanks. I am handed a datapad from the bridge Lieutenant, he never did give me his name. Why don't- focus dammit!

  I place the datapad on the windowsill and remove my officers cap. I raise my left arm and pull it back. A moment later I hear the smack, feel the sting and feel more aware. My breathing is heavy. I return my officers cap and stare down at the turquoise ball in front of me.

  “Status of the probes?” I ask.

  “All but two deployed, sir. They’re the ones closest to the factory and the Y-wings and their escorts were forced away by anti air fire.” A Lieutenant replies.

  “Thank you.” I say, still facing the window. “General Krell. I am ready to take in the data.”

  “I suppose you kept to the time-frame, Rear Admiral. All ships commence base delta zero.” I hear as my reply.

  When did the Dreadnoughts finish off the other Munificen-, wait that isn’t the right order! Turbolasers fly down towards the planet speedily. I glance at the probes. This wasn’t a usual amount of lifeforms. It almost looked like it had landed in a sandcricket swarm, or a school of fish … or a city.

  “Impact.” I hear.

  I feel my stomach turn. Bile coming up my throat. Steam, the sensors were showing steam. The oceans were boiling wherever the Turbolasers impacted … and the deadly water temperature was spreading. Why were there so many life-signs in the area? This was supposed to be a factory complex, not some city. I look at the sensor. It was boiling in the twilight zone. Too many life-forms. Base delta zero, that’s naval code for ...

  “Hold fire.” I say, turning away from the window, eyes manic.

  Another volley leaves the ships.

  “HOLD FIRE! MAKER DAMN YOU ALL! HOLD FIRE!” I bellow in rage, disgust and distilled anger, a promise of violence inherent in the growl behind the panic filled, desperate, terrified, shouted words.

  The ships hold fire.

  “What is the meaning of this Admiral?” The beast growls.

  “This is wrong! Everything here is wrong.” I say, pointing at the beast and getting into a more stable stance, “No names for the soldiers, there are no other commissioned officers here other than the Clones and Junior Captains of the Dreadnoughts. I know that! I’ve seen it. Something here is off, it- it’s terribly wrong!”

  “Admiral, snap out of it. You are risking the mission.” I hear the Besalisk say. He is gesturing with his hands again.

  I pull my slugthrower from my holster and aim it at the beast. My mind had started to cloud again. This son of a bitch was using Jedi magics on me! The realization hits me like a train and I suddenly feel the calm before a battle overtake me. He used Jedi magics to convince me here, lured me here with honeyed promises to disguise the poison I was drinking. My mind begins to race as I take a deep breath. He pulled me from my friends and loyal crew, isolated me deep in Sep space. Was this some conspiracy? It matters little. A base delta zero was the condemnation of an entire world’s living creatures. It was an atrocity, a warcrime in all but three conventions in all of galactic history held on thetopic. It was sin.

  My voice is cold as I speak: “General Krell, under military protocols Part 312 paragraph Besh sub-paragraph sixteen dash seven, I have found you to be conducting the highest level of treason against the Republic by providing propaganda for the Separatist Alliance! As the highest ranking officer of the Regional Command and highest ranking officer who is not compromised present, I sentence you to life imprisonment without parole. My sentence is to be judged by a group of your peers and betters, will you come quietly or do I need to add a charge of resisting arrest alongside your treason?”

  Fuck the court-martial, no need to aim, instinct takes over, pull the trigger. The beast ignites his lightsabers a vile smirk covering his face. Pull the trigger.

  "I will do no such thing." The beast replies.

  I have to pull the trigger. Who knows what other magics he has. Pull the trigger. He's too dangerous to shoot for incapacitation. Pull the trigger. Shoot to kill. Pull the trigger already! It's you or him. Pull the trigger! I've done this countless times. Pull the trigger! To keep the crew safe. Pull the trigger now! Maker keep me. PULL THE FUCKING TRIGGER!

  CRACK