Following a quite tense explanation, only slightly helped by Krell’s former Clone Captain showing up about half way through and jumping to my defense, General Solomahal dismissed everyone from the room he had even a semblance of authority over. Meaning everyone except myself, R4, who not even I had any real authority over, and Knight Akuna.

  “Well you really mucked it up this time.” The Lutrillian says as he removes a flask of something from his boot. Clever.

  “Could have been worse. General Krell was meant to lead the first probing attack on Mintooine. He could have deserted then and taken most of my plans with him.” I reply.

  “Why is it always you?” The Lutrillian bemoans.

  “Been wondering the same thing more often than not.” I answer.

  The General rights himself after returning his flask to his boot. He turns towards the slightly confused looking Jedi as he speaks: “Are you satisfied with the evidence shown?”

  He looks slightly unsteady. As if the very idea of a Jedi turning coat was anathema to him. I almost scoff at that. Almost every conflict with the Sith was caused by a Jedi desertion. Maker keep me the New Sith War was lead by a brotherhood of former Jedi, bolstering their numbers from desertions and kidnapped children. The fucking self-righteousness in these wacko monks.

  “I believe for the moment it will have to do. I will need copies of all the information, the testimonials, the recordings and the ship’s logs and blackbox.” He says.

  “R4 should have everything you need, if she doesn’t I’m sure the General here already has copies of everything you just requested.” I offer.

  “I do.” The Intelligence officer answers.

  “Well then, if you’ll excuse me. I have some paperwork to catch up on, a mining dispute settlement to affirm and to get used to a new arm. Anything else I can help with now?” I ask.

  “No, we’ll leave you to your recovery until we’ve finished. Good day, soldier.” Solomahal replies. I watch as they file out. I specifically do not glance at R4, who I could tell was about to start spewing insults at me any moment now.

  “Serenity now.” I mutter as R4 picks up where she left off.

  My arm was itching. I suppressed my urge to scratch it. It would do nothing, but agitate my fingertips against the cold metal. So far the only upside of loosing my arm had been the glances of fear from newer crewmen, as transferring experienced crew to other ships was always a good way to ensure excellence throughout my battlegroup. I finish my march into the primary briefing room, another thing which had been expanded during the upgrades to the Little Revenge, to find a wonderful smattering of petty officers, Captains of various stripes and three Commodores in person and two per hologram.

  “Afternoon everyone.” I say in greetings as the last holograms emerge from the ceiling mounted projectors. Said projectors now revealing General Krugwolt, Colonel Bvinsk and one of Sector General Therbon’s Adjutants, another Colonel based off the Verpine’s rank plaque. Unusual to see a Verpine away from their asteroids, but I suppose the war brings even a peace loving people away from their homes and ideals.

  Mi-Kus hands me the final draft of the prepared datapad as I start briefing the gathered people: “This is the first meeting on the Mintooine campaign. The strategic situation is not ideal, as Republic Intelligence and our contacts within Sep space have let us know that the world of Mintooine has been reinforced by four Lucrehulk battleships alongside a multitude of other warships. It is for that very reason we will be beginning raiding the Sep supply lines between Mintooine, Dellalt and other need to know bases within the Ash Worlds Sector. This will primarily be done under the command of Commodore Abelard, any questions so far?”

  Abelard speaks up: “Should I be targeting specific items more intensively than others?”

  “Prioritize machine part, ammunition and raw material shipments if possible. Food and medical supplies are best left alone. We’d rather not starve the workers to death.” I answer before continuing, “After consultation with the rest of regional command and some other friends in the Navy, the command has made the decision that we will be conducting a multitude of hit and run attacks against the enemy’s more weakened positions.”

  Just then the hologram of Mintooine and her Moon appear. Included were the approximate firing arcs of their three anti-orbit battery installations, Republic Intelligence’s approximation of Mintooine’s garrison and the defensive platforms.

  I continue as officers lean in to get a better look: “The primary goals for the raids will be the destruction, or disablement of multiple enemy warships, defensive platforms and if command finds it necessary, drydocks and shipyards.”

  It wouldn’t be easy, even with the Shipyards of Mon Cala, Ruisto and Pammant finally allowing non Merchant Fleet warships to be produced. Hopefully within the month we’d have another three Dreadnoughts and half a dozen Sphyrna Hammerhead corvettes. It’ll certainly be nice to have some ships I was more familiar with as my escorts.

  “For the raids we will be assigning different groups to attack from multiple angles. Commodore Abelard will be doing double duty by periodically attacking the enemy’s rear to the planet’s south along the galactic westward hyperspace egress point. The other egress points will be attacked by other squadron sized forces under my own Command, the Command of Commodore Strom, once the Garrison over Pammant has been thoroughly secured and Commodore Jim, when his patrols allow it.”

  “We’re stretching ourselves quite thin aren’t we.” The Duro Commodore says grimly.

  “We’ve done more with less. Republic Forces will be spread thin, but the former defense forces remain to pick up patrol slack and minor raiding opportunities, while the customs units and Merchant Fleet should be able to hold off anything big for long enough for us to respond.” I try to alleviate the frowning Duro’s concerns.

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  “Not much consolation if these reports on enemy ship numbers are accurate, though they are quite uncertain.” Commodore Hugh starts, “Let me quote the intelligence report here, ‘approximately twenty battleships and destroyers of varying makes, with the majority consisting of Recusant class heavy destroyers. Four Lucrehulk battleships, or battleship/carriers. Twenty Recusant class light destroyers, somewhere between ten and twenty Captor class cruiser/carriers and around forty Diamond class cruisers. Finally an indeterminable number of corvettes, though never less than twenty five.’ Was it so hard to get us better numbers?”

  “It is the best available to us at this time. We hope the raids can give us better numbers.” Colonel Bvinsk says.

  “Plus you’re forgetting the nine Banking Clan Gun Platforms.” Faxe teases.

  “Shut it Strom, don’t karking remind me. The only upside of these ridiculous orders are that I’m not going to be placed in charge of one of these suicidal raids, though I certainly wouldn’t mind taking a stab at Mintooine’s defenders myself.” Hugh teases back.

  I sigh as I intervene to stop my primary underlings from fighting: “Peace. Commodore Hugh, if you desire it, I am sure I can manage enough ships to outfit us with another raiding group for your person. Commodore Strom, please remember we are in a briefing and not sharing drinks.”

  “Of course, sir.” Faxe answers lightly.

  Hugh hesitates a moment before answering: “I would not be adverse to leading one of the raids, but I believe my duties within the 401st Rapid Response Squadron are more important strategically.”

  “Then I will look into your supply schedule and see about organizing a one time taskforce for a raid under your command.” I offer.

  “Thank you, sir.” The Commodore answers, clearly happy to get another good shot at leading combat.

  I look into my notes before continuing along the original track: “We will be conducting these raids on a semi-regular basis, at least once every two weeks, but never more than twice a week. This will be our status quo until High Command has sent us the ships we will need to conduct a full assault on Mintooine. When that happens we will likely hold another briefing for possible strategies, the damage we have managed to do to the enemy, the position of enemy minefields and possible traps, the usual.”

  “Well then,” Abelard says, “looks like we’ll have a few busy months ahead.”

  I couldn’t agree more with the man.

  It seemed almost cliché to be meeting with General Solomahal in a shady ass bar in the docks of Mon Cala. I slowly nurse the ale in my mug, the private room removed of bugs just a moment earlier. It was a combined effort of me ‘accidentally’ spilling my drink and R4 ‘accidentally’ nabbing the other two bugs with a well timed malfunction. The door to the private room opens to revel my comrade in conspiracy. General Solomahal looks like your average merchant, well dressed under a cloak, just like any of my local merchant informants I’ll meet when they have vital information. Something fully permitted as a Marshal Administrator, as long as any vital intel is passed along to either Navy Intelligence or Republic Intelligence. Unsurprisingly, I've been submitting more and more of my finds to Navy Intelligence as of late. Honestly with all the liberties my position give me the worst case scenario is that I get accused of mismanaging regional command funds by drinking on the job.

  “Soldier. It taste good?”

  “Never finished my sandwich in the first place.” I reply, “Though the place is clean enough.”

  The Lutrillian’s shoulders sag slightly as he sits himself down in front of me: “Alright, what’ve ya gathered soldier?”

  “Seps are juggling ships like madmen. I can’t really make heads or tails of most of it. It’ll be on the datastick I give ya.”

  “And internally?”

  “Bvinsk is looking for a challenge mostly. His scrutiny could make the contingency plans more difficult, but still manageable. Krugwolt is more tricky. He doesn’t have the xenophobia we see in a bunch of Tarkin’s men, but he’s a jingoist for sure.” I begin, “Most of my Captains find me amenable at worst, only one or two have real issues. I’ll try and keep working on it.”

  “Don’t be afraid to sacrifice bad apples to save the bunch.”

  “I’m not trying to question the plans, but this still feels too premature, too extreme. Sure xenophobia and centralization are both on the rise, but too many of the plans seem far too extreme, even as a last resort. I don’t think most of them'll be possible.” I test.

  “I hope it won’t come to any of the contingency plans, but we agreed they were needed, soldier. Now ain’t the time to go cold Nuna on me.” The Lutrillian growls.

  “Course not.” I reply coldly, “But I just don’t see how any of the fear we share could realistically happen. Sure Isard is building up a surveillance state to rival the wettest dreams of the Corpos, but he won’t manage it once the war is over and I know, I know your opinions on the war ending, but I genuinely think the Seps will be genuine rivals for another four years tops. After that, there’ll just be a few hundred holdouts, easy to mop up and easy to suppress.” I try.

  “You know my opinions. As your elder and the more experienced officer in regards to intel I’ll tell ya the following. Keep your wits about you, don’t fall for any dumb traps and most importantly, keep working on our contingencies. I’d rather we have to go to ground than end up dead.”

  “On that we will always agree.” I reply before shaking his hand, the two datasticks exchanging persons before the Lutrillian leaves, his hood returning to cover his face.

  I consider his words a while before finishing off the ale. I’d prepare, but … it seems too much. Solomahal’s plans seem too extreme, unless their direct causes are true to his worst fears. I feel a shudder descend down my spine at the thought of it. It wouldn’t happen, the Senate wouldn’t stand for such things and neither would the HONO Clique. I pull out the flask inside my jacket and take a long swig, to the complaint of R4. If it comes to the worst, then Solomahal’s contingency plans, even dreaded plan Continuation, could be necessary, but like hells would I let it come to that.

  I was looking through the maps again. My left arm currently occupying part of my desk as I slowly walk around the holographic display of my regional command and the outlying territories which overlap with my neighboring regional commands.

  The first raid against Mintooine had happened within the acceptable parameters of the plan. Commodore Jim assaulted an outlying patrol outside of the effective range of the anti-orbital batteries and the defense platforms. He managed to destroy or disable a Recusant light, that was entirely unprepared, two Diamond class cruisers and a Gozanti before being forced to pull back by a retaliatory force of half a dozen Recusant light destroyers and eight Diamond class cruisers. Apparently it had been a close call with the enemy Vultures almost catching his ships before his hyperspace jump.

  Meanwhile Commodore Abelard had successfully intercepted three bulk freighters. His detachment of Acclamators having destroyed two and captured the third. Said third ship was now happily employed by an independent merchant who just so happened to be supplying some of the Republic bases within the Ash Worlds Sector.

  That was a good first couple of days of operations. I should probably shrink the raiding force sizes in a few weeks to give the Seps a false sense of security. That way they should send less ships to counter my raids. It’ll hit them harder when a larger force is sent after they enter the new routine. An errant thought catches as i look over at a datapad with the current raid schedule. The first raid from the galactic east still needs spare machine parts for later repairs once they're done.

  My office door opens to reveal one of the Adjutant Sergeants: “Sir, new reports indicate an enemy force of nine cruisers heading through the Ash Worlds. We detected them leaving Xoreas an hour and a half ago. Commodore Abelard has requested permission to engage the enemy.”

  “Deny his request. The Mintooine campaign is too vital for continued operations. His first raid is imminent and I will not permit him to miss it.” I deny as I close the holomap and grab my arm from my desk. Lucky me, I’ve been starting to keep my sleeves rolled up to make re-attaching the damn thing easier, so I start hooking up the piece of metal as I march towards the bridge, a mildly confused Sergeant following my heels like a Mudpuppy that’s been given a slice of meat.

  “Is the 1382nd O.R. Section still in system?” I ask.

  “Yes, sir. Senior Captain Xill has about another day before her Section is scheduled for escort duty.” The Sergeant answers.

  “Inform the Captain she will be joining us in an attack on this Sep incursion. I’ll be taking the 347th, the 503rd Light with me too. Contact Senior Captain Praut on if the 99th Battleship is available for sally.” I order as the Sergeant rapidly types the information.

  I enter the bridge, causing Lieutenant Welder to salute and step away from my usual spot of observation.

  “Bridge is yours, sir.” My Head Sensors officer reports.

  “Good, we’re going on an adventure. Prepare for departure. Sergeant you have my orders, pass them along to comms.” I order.

  The Sergeant snaps a salute as Welder falls into the position of second adviser: “Sir, what’s our target?”

  “Sep incursion into the Ash Worlds. Target unclear, but I feel the size of the enemy formation is too large for anything less than an attack on one of our larger outposts or patrols.”

  “Why are we taking this on personally?” Welder asks.

  “Commodore Abelard is busy raiding the Giblin Route, we’re only a couple days further out than him. It’s a sacrifice worth making for the Mintooine campaign.” I answer.

  “Very well, sir.” The Lieutenant answers.

  A few hours later, two Venators, three Dreadnoughts, two Acclamators, two Arquitenses, three frigates and eight corvettes make the jump to hyperspace.