I stare out of my bridge, nervously tapping my holster while trying to suppress the shakes in my right hand. I had maneuvered Hatha right into my trap. His forces having exited hyperspace just a moment prior and scanning the system to compare it to their previous scans. His forces have dwindled over the battles so far, leaving the Neimoidian with only seventy five ships of the line and at most twenty light ships and pickets. Even so I couldn’t allow myself to become complacent. He still had four mostly undamaged Providence battleships and six destroyers, five Recusant lights and a Fantail, to anchor or support his thirty eight Munificents, seven Munifexes and twenty two Captors.

  Meanwhile my detachment was in a rougher state, not even a single ship had managed the last two and a half weeks without suffering some form of damage. Even so, I was quietly optimistic. Seven Venators, two CD-710 destroyers, nine Dreadnoughts, fifteen Acclamator ones, five Acclamator twos, five light cruisers, including my Dac’s Revenge, fifteen armed frigates, twenty four Pelta transports, nine of which had reinforced us and resupplied our reserves of Tibana and concussion missiles and thirty four corvettes that had managed to survive so far.

  Some of the reinforcements had been a surprise, the main one being the recently finished Dreadnought ‘Cophrigin’ which had only recently arrived at its namesake to become the garrison’s flagship. And yet I wouldn’t turn it, or the rest of Cophrigin’s garrison and the diverted convoys, away. Even with Luis’ forces not present yet we should manage to take on Hatha and defeat the Neimoidian’s forces.

  “Sir, we’re detecting Cronau radiation from the north-west.” Lieutenant Welder reports.

  “Would the Seps really send more of Dellalt’s forces here?” Mi-Kus asks.

  “Damn them.” I mutter, could I still adapt my strategy?

  “Unknown vessels have just emerged from hyperspace. I’ve got an MC75, two Corona class frigates and a … well it’s some kind of corvette on scope?” Welder reports confusedly.

  “Hail them, they could either be Free Dac or Mon Cala forces.” I order, though Mon Cala would likely have sent more than a single Star Cruiser and probably used MC30c frigates as her escorts either way.

  “Sir, I’ve got an ID on the ship class of that corvette.” A sensors officer reports.

  “And?” Welder asks curiously.

  “Designate Crusader Mark I class corvette. A Mando design, mostly point defense lasers, no turbolasers or missiles pods on standard model.” The sensors officer answers.

  “Mando?” Kestis ask.

  “Mandalorians.” I answer offhandedly with a bit of a sneer. You’d think someone would have told me about Mandos in my command. Last thing I needed was those rogues and wannabe conquerors making a mess of things.

  “Comms link established.” Lieutenant Slas reports.

  “Front and center.” I order. The tactical display falls away to reveal an evilly grinning Weequay. In that moment I don’t know whether to sigh, shout or cheer.

  “Admiral Dericote.” Hondo says evenly, “My friend. It is truly a joy to see you once more and in such a state too! I had feared I would arrive too late to be of much assistance and yet here I am, before the battle has even begun!”

  “Hondo … where did you get an MC75 from?” I ask the first question that came to mind.

  “Bought it off of some disgruntled Quarren pirates that deserted the Mon Cala Merchant Fleet after your victory over their homeworld. It was quite a steal too, I’ve been using her as my base of operations since my beloved Florrum was raided one too many times.” Hondo replies, his tone almost sounding grief stricken at the reminder, though the pirate returns to his usual joviality as he continues, “AND YET! I, Hondo Ohnaka, Republic Privateer, Pirate Prince and glorious seeker of plunder, treasure and various riches, have come with her to assist one of my closest friends in his time of need … for a price of course.”

  “Should I even ask about the Mandos?”

  “Some exiles I made friends with. They appear to dislike the Corporate Sector Authority more than you do, my friend.” Hondo answers easily as he pats his lizard-monkey on the head.

  “Fine, but we’ll be talking about this uptick in your forces later. For now, move into the formation at my center and name your price.” I order.

  “Two CR90s, outfitted to Republic Navy standards, an unarmed Pelta frigate, two dozen Republic Navy standard Z-95 Headhunters, fuel and munitions for all of them and a friendly game of Sabaac between us friends the next time we’re both over Mon Cala.” Hondo demands.

  “One CR90, outfitted to Republic Navy standard, salvage rights to a lightly damaged Pelta frigate and a corvette of your choosing in the Handooine system, one squadron of Z-95 Headhunters, fuel for all and the friendly game.” I counter offer as Hondo’s ships go to full speed.

  “I want those munitions.” Hondo says, glaring at me.

  “Then you can forget about salvaging the Pelta. Instead I’ll also pay for any repairs required, munitions fired over the course of the upcoming battle and salvage rights to a heavily damaged Sep cruiser which we both agree upon in system.”

  The pirate prince considers it a moment before nodding: “A good enough counter. I shall integrate my forces into your command, my friend.”

  “Then it’s a deal. For the duration of the battle you’ll be awarded the powers and duties of a Senior Captain and be placed under my direct command within the center.” I order my ally.

  “As your wish, my boorish friend.” Hondo replies, before his hologram disappears.

  I look around the bridge as the tactical display returns in its full glory. The crew looked either a tad nervous, determined or seemingly excited at the prospect of closing my trap on Hatha. I return my gaze to the tactical display. We were currently stationed over the still recalcitrant world of Balshebr, her government and some of her people having joyously thrown away their previous loyalty to the Republic in favor of the two week old Separatist invasion. They probably hadn’t expected my final battle to be within spitting distance of her orbital position and yet here I was, my forces arrayed loosely in the shape of an inward arrowhead beside the slowly departing moon on our starboard.

  Balshebr’s moon would act as the anchor for my starboard flank while the two CD-710 destroyers would act as the anchor of my portside flank. The rest of the formation was an interspersed mix of battered cruisers, battleships and the various light ships and pickets that had survived the previous engagements. I didn’t bother with my usual skirmishing units for once, they had depleted too much and I was rather averse to risking them further. Instead I had various squadrons of strikecraft prepared to act as a screen against possible enemy skirmishers, though they were still close enough to make for the line proper in case the Seps unleashed a volley or two of anti-fighter fragmentation missiles during our likely long range exchange. The only other astronomical objects of note in this system for this battle, were the asteroid field a couple million klicks out from the moon’s orbit, and a tiny artificial cluster of asteroids Balshebr has moved to the far side of their moon, a couple dozen thousand clicks from where my starboard flank ended, for mining and processing on the automated processing plants on the atmosphere-less lunar surface.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “Enemy forces have begun their approach. Looks like they’re matching our formation with an arrowhead formation. They’ve placed three of their four Providence battleships in their center and three of their destroyers, two Recusant lights and the Fantail, on our portside flank to face off against our CD-710s.” Mi-Kus reports diligently from the tactical display.

  “Anything else of note?” I ask.

  “They’ve moved seven Lupus missile frigates ahead of their formation.” Lieutenant Welder reports with a frown.

  “Pull our strikecraft back and prepare anti-missile countermeasures.” I order. Like hells was I willing to let the Seps fire missiles at us with impunity.

  “Greenlight from Taskforce Detachment Sandstorm. They’re in position and have finished calculations.”

  “Contact Senior Captain Sicato and Commodore Miller. Max priority, max security on the following message, let the winds blow.” I respond.

  “Sending.”

  “Enemy frigates entering max range of our flanks.” An Adjutant reports.

  “Message from Sandstorm. Quote, let the sands fly.” Lieutenant Slas reports.

  “All ships hold position. Hold fire until the enemy opens fire themselves and hold on missiles unless ordered otherwise.” I order. Better seem overly cautious now.

  “Enemy frigates launching missiles.” Lieutenant Hursk reports.

  “Steady. Lure them in.” I order.

  “Senior Captain Sever is complaining about how believable it is for the ships in range to not be taking pot shots at Hatha’s ships.” A comms officer reports.

  “Steady. I know nobody likes being shot at without returning the favor, but we want Hatha to commit, dammit.” I reply.

  “Enemy line has fully entered maximum range.”

  “Prioritize the enemy missile frigates and destroyers. Fire all heavy turbolasers and a salvo of concussion missiles.” I order.

  Missiles explode against Republic shields as the first arcs of blue and red race towards one another with malicious intent. Turbolasers crash against shields as the ships slow in their advance, the Seps trying to get the most of their theoretical range advantage while getting close enough for their strikecraft to enter combat within my formation proper. Honestly I’d prefer to fight this battle at medium range, let the firepower of my Dreadnoughts and Acclamators come to bear without risking something as deadly as the proton torpedo barrage of a Providence or a close range heavy turbolaser volley, though that was usually something the enemy would have to fear, Sep ships mostly focusing on long and short range instead of the Republic’s mix of ranges for various ships.

  “Enemy entering medium range at our flanks.”

  “They may fire at will.” I mutter as Sep ships suddenly find themselves more beset by my ships on the flanks.

  “Sir, the Teardrop has reached the opposite side of the moon and reports an uptick in Cronau radiation.”

  “Good, they’re almost on time.” I reply an evil glint in my eyes. Oh what I would give to be a fly in Hatha’s bridge right now.

  Hatha was halfway convinced Dericote was insane at this point. The man hadn’t just retreated halfway through an entire Sector, gathering reinforcements along the way, the Fondorian had also passed over previously Republic worlds under Separatist occupation and ignored their pleas for help. The bastard hadn’t even tried fighting him at Astigone! Merely leaving the world behind after wasting hours of both their time in a pointless skirmish!

  “If I ever meet this bastard in person I don’t know whether I’ll shake his hand or punch him in the face.” The Neimoidian growls from the bridge of his Warprofiteer at the center of his formation. Where did Dericote even get an MC75 Star Cruiser from anyway? They weren’t close enough to Dac or her colonies for it to make even a semblance of sense!

  “Sir, we’re detecting Cronau radiation from the north east.” His sensors chief reports.

  “What? Is it Commodore Mixyez’s forces?”

  “Not sure, sir. He hasn’t reported since he made contact with Republic forces in the Byss system, but it could be.” An Adjutant answers.

  “Well either way it’ll take whoever it is time to get from the egress point to the battle. We can react with plenty of time.” Hatha replies.

  As if to spite him, a Republic Dreadnought emerges from hyperspace some thirty thousand clicks away from the Republic’s line and about twenty nine thousand klicks away from his rear line. Hatha’s eyes go wide in shock as another, then another, then a forth Dreadnought emerge right behind the asteroids the locals had moved to be of use for their lunar mining industry. The quartet of ships immediately begin racing towards his line as a group of Hammerhead cruisers, three Acclamators and various corvettes join them, first in realspace, then in the race towards the rear of his cruiser line.

  “Um, sir. We’ve got four Dreadnoughts heavy cruisers, two Acclamator ones, an Acclamator two, eight Hammerheads and eighteen corvettes rapidly approaching our rear on our portside flank.” An Adjutant says redundantly.

  Hatha’s voice is near despondent: “I can … I can see that Lieutenant.”

  “Sir, your orders?”

  Hatha scans the battlefield. Some of his cruisers have already lost shields and were taking fire straight to the face of their belts while most Republic ships still held onto the dregs of their shields. Sure he might win here, but he very well might not.

  “Sir, we’re being hailed.”

  “Who is it? Is it Commodore Mixyez?” He asks with hope.

  “No, sir. It’s Viceroy Gunray.”

  “Put him on.” Hatha orders morosely. Unless he could think up something fast he would lose. And for profit’s sake the Rear Admiral knew Viceroy Gunray wouldn’t make it easy for him to think up of something while talking with him.

  Soon enough the visage of his superior appears before him and Hatha does a short bow in greeting: “Viceroy, you have caught me at an inopportune time.”

  “I have new orders for you. Handooine and Wyndigal have both fallen and a Jedi lead force nears Dellalt. Salvage whatever is left of your forces and make for Dellalt now.” The Viceroy orders.

  “Viceroy, my forces are already battered, I do not know what difference we can make, especially after having fought against the Black Hussar for a week without much time for rest, resupply or repair.” Hatha informs.

  “Your presence alone should be enough to hold off any aggressive Jedi commander from seizing Dellalt too quickly. You are only to hold the system until reinforcements can force the Jedi out. I believe you should return to the Perlimian anyway, where your talents aren’t wasted in fighting your personal rival within the Republic’s ranks.” The Viceroy orders.

  “… As you wish, Viceory. If that is all, I have a journey to make.” Hatha requests.

  “Very well. Make haste, Rear Admiral. Dellalt must not fall, you have my promise to approve any actions needed to assure that retroactively.” The Viceroy orders a final time, before his hologram goes out.

  Hatha sits in silence for a moment. He may have forced Dericote from the field thrice in the last three battles, but clearly Dericote had won the penultimate battle. While Hatha had focused on tactics, Dericote had conducted his strategies well.

  “Hail the Hussar. I wish to negotiate.” Hatha orders.

  “Hailing.”

  I’m flabbergasted for a moment and ask my comms chief to repeat herself once more to make sure I heard her correctly.

  “Rear Admiral Hatha has hailed us and requests parley.”

  “Then he shall have it.” I mutter, “Hold fire, all ships hold fire.”

  The battlefield suddenly goes quiet as I turn to face the holoprojection. Soon enough, instead of the previous tactical display, I am greeted by the face of a Neimoidian I had only ever seen on briefings and dossiers. He looks about as tired as I probably do.

  “Rear Admiral Hatha, I presume?”

  “That is my name. Admiral Dericote, I take?” The Neimoidian returns the question.

  “That’s me.” I answer easily, “Why have you called a parley?”

  “While the battle may still fall to either of us, it is clear to me that you have outwitted me and my forces repeatedly. You seized Wyndigal, Handooine and likely also done the same to Byss while my men were busy pursuing your forces. I am willing to admit when I am outmatched, especially with Commodore Mixyez’s forces nowhere to be found while your detachment has returned almost on top of my rear. I have also received orders to abandon this pursuit, so I have come to negotiate. To save both our forces from further unnecessary losses.” The Neimoidian explains.

  I blink a few times as I try to process the Separatist’s logic. It sounds … sportsmanlike in a way. I nod in understanding as I respond: “Very well. I am willing to negotiate to allow your men access through Republic controlled space without harassment if you make for … Dellalt and return any POWs you have seized during the battles over the last week.”

  “Presumably only those form your forces?”

  “Despite how much I would like a larger prisoner exchange, I don’t believe I can really demand for any more.” I answer.

  “I believe we may be able to accommodate such a limited exchange, though it may take time as we’ve had to ship them to more internal camps as both Jubilar and Oovo are in Republic hands.”

  “I am willing to be patient to a certain degree.”

  The Neimoidian Admiral nods in appreciation as he replies: “I suppose I cannot bargain for any ships captured after their surrender and demand POWs of Separatist nature be permitted release from the last two weeks?”

  I turn to Mi-Kus who wobbles his head in a so-so gesture. I frown a moment before answering: “I am willing to part with any POWs taken over the course of the last week and any naval POWs taken over the last two, but I will not return any salvage or surrendered ships as I can’t demand the same of you.”

  “Fairly reasoned I suppose.” The Neimoidian replies, “I would still press you reconsider that you hand over all POWs.”

  “Perhaps any lower ranked troops can be given up.” I hesitate before exchanging a glance with Mi-Kus. Sure, we hadn’t lost many ships here, but that wouldn’t last as our damaged ships sustain further damage. Mi-Kus gives me a nod and I return to looking at Hatha, “We will return any POWs taken within the last two weeks with a rank lower than Sergeant alongside all POWs secured over the last week.”

  “Excellent, in such a case I would request a prisoner transfer in the … Trasemene system. We each send a pair of ships, two Acclamators for you and two Captors for me, have them dock, their Captains meet and prisoners exchanged between the two groups.”

  “In a month’s time then?” I ask.

  “I believe we should be able to gather all of our POWs taken last week in that period of time.”

  “Then that is agreed. I would offer you a route to take out of system?” I offer.

  “I would accept any route as long as it is not explicitly humiliating or overly time consuming.” Padawan Kestis hands over exactly such a route as the Neimoidian agrees and I hold up the depicted route to the hologram before me. The Neimoidian inspects it a moment before nodding, “My ships can follow such a route loosely.”

  “Then we are agreed in your departure.” I say.

  “I thank you for your understanding, Admiral Dericote.”

  “I thank you for not prolonging the bloodshed, Rear Admiral Hatha.” I reply easily.

  “If that is all. My forces shall pull back fifteen thousand clicks, before following your route.”

  “My line will remain here while Taskforce Detachment Sandstorm joins you in moving back fifteen thousand clicks as well.”

  “Then we are agreed. May you profit in your endeavors, Dericote.” Hatha says

  “May the Maker keep you, Hatha and may we never have to face one another again.” I reply.

  “In that I think we both agree.” The Neimoidian replies with a sad smile as the hologram goes out.

  “Sep forces pulling back.” Welder reports.

  “Begin pulling ours back as well.” I order absentmindedly.

  Maker, I need a drink.