I stood at the bridge of the Albedo Brave, looking out of the transparasteel window at the remaining defenses of Dellalt. I had transferred to the command ship of General Tapal shortly after the end of my victory, as the Little Revenge’s bridge was currently a mixture of slag and exposed wires. Quite unsuitable to be holding negotiations.

  Meanwhile a stream of shuttles and tugboats were racing throughout the battlefield, moving ships out of the way, or helping the incredibly mauled Republic vessels to get to our extraction point. They would be brought to Mintooine or Mon Cala, depending on the severity of the damage done, for either repairs or cannibalization for other ships.

  We had lost six Venators, though all but three could be repaired on some level alongside four of our Dreadnoughts, though the hardy cruisers could all be salvaged, some of them were being held together by duct-tape, prayers and whatever moonshine could be grabbed to stop the mechanics and engineers from breaking down into a weeping heap from the stress.

  At least they weren’t quite as overworked as our hangar bays. Loosing the Venators alongside six of the Acclamator ones and both Acclamator twos had more than halved our hangar space. Though with the numbers of losses in the fighter wings it was still manageable, somehow. The only group which suffered a higher percentage in losses were the light ships and pickets. Seven out of the ten Arquitenses and thirty two corvettes littered the battlefield. The only questionable upside was the relatively low losses within my personal battlegroup, all ships needed repairs, but none had to be sent back immediately, and the 111th Colonies Cruiser Squadron, having only lost two Hammerhead cruisers, though that was in large part thanks to the corvettes taking hits for them.

  All in all I had lost thirty nine thousand six hundred and fifty seven sailors and pilots. The few remaining corvettes and undamaged bombers scouring the field for escape pods in desperate hope to bring the number down. Though it was a token effort, most of the escape pods have already been found and brought on board of various remaining ships.

  “Vice Admiral, we have made contact with the Exarch of Dellalt.” Lieutenant Hursk says.

  “Well let’s not keep the chucklefuck waiting.” I mutter coldly as I march over to the holotable, nodding to General Tapal in greeting as I take center stage.

  Soon enough the table’s holo-emiters begin displaying the image of an older, tall man with large eyebags, a small pin on his chest his only notable show of rank: “I assume you are the ones responsible for destroying the defenders of my homeworld?”

  “You presume correctly, Exarch.” I reply, “I am Vice Admiral Dericote of the Republic Navy, to my left is Jedi Master and General Tapal of the Grand Army of the Republic and his Padawan, Commander Kestis. I would hereby request your surrender.”

  “I have conditions.” The man says.

  “As expected.” I answer, “However we have our own demands first.”

  The Governor nods slowly as I begin speaking: “We will be dismantling all defensive infrastructure in orbit and any and all anti-orbital facilities. All droid armies are to be deactivated pending scrapping or reprogramming. All sentient armies are to be ordered to stand down and be disarmed. All shipyard, dockyard and orbital mining employees are to be removed from their place of work and barred from entry, their wages and rations to be provided by the world of Dellalt. There will be an orbital garrison placed within system to ensure the security of the system and finally all tugboats and support ships will be temporarily seized by the office of Marshal Administrator of the North East Slice Command for the duration of returning damaged Republic vessels to the worlds of Mintooine and Mon Cala.”

  The Exarch hesitates a moment before speaking: “You wish to leave our world defenseless?”

  “I am leaving you with your standing army and trusting you with the remnants of the droid army. The defensive installations will be used where local command finds most practical. Be happy we won’t destroy them with crew aboard instead.” I counter.

  The man frowns before speaking: “Very well. However I do not know if the world of Dellalt alone can sustain taking on the wages of our two largest industries.”

  “Then the Republic will be asked to assist and offer to pay a quarter of the wages. Rations will be supplied on the Republic’s credit anyway.” I offer.

  “At least half. We are talking about major industries here. Industries you are essentially shutting down. You are hurting our economy and my world’s billion inhabitants cannot sustain this indefinitely.”

  “Very well. For the duration of the shipyards, dockyards and mining postts being closed the Republic will take on half of the wages.” I agree. It would cut into our budget, but the Seps would likely take the system within a few weeks, if that.

  “When should I expect your men on surface?” The Exarch asks, his eyes narrowed.

  “Within the cycle.” I answer, “Thank you for your cooperation.”

  “What choice do I have?”

  “I’m happy you see the reality of your situation, have a pleasant day.” I say, before dismissing the transmission.

  “I don’t think he’ll survive when the Seps return, sir.” Hursk says, quietly.

  “It is rather doubtful.” I reply, “Lucky for me, not my problem. Begin preparing the disassembly teams and evacuate the yard workers so we can plant the explosives asap.”

  “So you will not be attempting to hold here?” Tapal asks.

  “Why would I?” I retort, “Dellalt may be a chokepoint, but we have no loyalty here. The Tion cluster is the hotbed of Separatist sentiment. We’d need to leave a very large garrison planetside, one we don’t have the manpower for, and all the civilian populace would need to start a guerrilla war would be a single misstep. I’d rather burn the infrastructure and let the Seps take back a system with only minimal worth and in desperate need of capital to return to her former glory.”

  “That will cause further resentment. As the Exarch has said, this is the world’s largest two industries you will be destroying.” Tapal warns.

  “Of course it is. Maker knows this will make any attempt at recapturing Dellalt harder in the future, but it won’t matter if we loose the war. Dellalt is too close to the fleets of the Tion Cluster. We have essentially kicked a mudpuppy whelp and now the entire pack will come barking and growling to make sure the whelp lives, or else cannibalize its corpse to ensure more resources won’t be wasted. What we’re doing is … burning the corpse. Leaving only bones to be feasted upon, a difficult meal.”

  “That's horrible.” Kestis says, his eyes showing his disgust and distress at the thought.

  “It’s nature.” I counter, “A mudpuppy would rather eat its young than let them fall at an enemy’s hands. It wastes the enemy’s energy spent during its hunt and replenishes a fraction of the resources spent on the litter for their parents to try again. There are three good ways to counter that. The sandgator is so powerful that it can eat the whelp in a single bite, bones and all. The winglizard takes what it can before running off. We’re following in the winglizards steps here, for the pack we’ve angered is far too large for us to carry off all our spoils and consume the entire whelp.”

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

  “The third?” Kestis asks through his mixture of disgust and curiosity.

  “Man’s way. Befriend the pack when possible, poison the flesh when not.” I reply, before marching off towards the comms station, my eyes narrowed in anger and frustration at this no win situation, “And pity’s to us. We don’t have time for friendship and I refuse to fight a war of extermination.”

  Senator Dededod looks out onto the screens outside his apartments, playing footage from the most recent Republic victory. He could tell it was heavily edited, the Republic ships looked pristine no matter how much damage they received. Below in large aurebesh letters the primary message scrolled along.

  ‘Admiral Dericote smashes Separatist fleet in Tion Cluster. Dellalt surrenders. Southern entrance to the heart of the Separatists open!”

  The Senator scoffs, if that was how the propagandists wanted to play it, then sure. In reality Dericote wouldn’t be able to hold Dellalt if even half of his forces had survived with minimal damage. Soon enough some poor officer would be dragged through the mud for loosing the relatively prestigious world the Republic's Black Hussar had seized.

  But it seemed most people didn’t have the Senators insights. A talkshow on a different screen blabbering on how much this battle must have shortened the war. A minor Republic Navy officer from the Home Guard discussing animatedly with a so called expert as the moderator nodded along aimlessly. Either the station was paying out the nose for the expert’s services, or he wasn’t very good. Probably the latter, Dededod muses, the best military analysts had been snatched up by the GAR, the various intelligence agencies of the Republic or the various powerful Senators whose worlds could afford it.

  All the while Palpatine and his supporters, be it Isard and his infant surveillance state or the militarists in the Navy and Army both, no matter the clique or faction. Sure, the HONO Clique was at least paying lip service to the idea of tackling the root causes that had lead to the civil war which was tearing the known galaxy apart, yet their members still abused the powers and privileges granted to them by the emergency powers which continued to be heaped upon the executive. The Jedi too were increasingly abusing the far reaching powers given to them, yet the trust towards the ancient institution had not fully eroded … yet.

  And while all of this was occurring, it appeared to the public that a wonderfully polished nail had been punched into the coffin of the Confederacy, the way towards Raxus and some kind of victory just one step closer. Now if only the Republic could figure out how to supply said people with constant water and electricity again. Dededod sighs. He’ll need to see if he can scrounge up some support for taking out a loan to sustain the thousand year old practice.

  Another convoy, this one holding one of the mothballed gun platforms between them, makes the jump. Honestly I felt like some petty warlord right now. Looting the enemy’s land to sure up my own. If it wasn’t for the badge on my chest and the government I served I might actually be one. I frown at the thought, I was better than some Xim the Despot wannabe.

  Another group of Peltas and Acclamators begin coming from the surface. That should be the last defensive battery. All that’s left would be the planetary shield generators, but I’ll leave those for last. Taking them could cause a riot and I’d rather leave the world in chaos after I had almost everything I needed first.

  I gaze out the transparasteel window at the forces surrounding the Albedo Brave. My 97th O.R. Squadron was still present, though getting them repairs would probably be a good idea. There were also the remnants of the Coruscanti, currently under the command of Senior Captain Oicunn, as everyone else with a higher or equivalent rank was very much dead. Additionally we still had two of the 99th’s Venators and their escorts, though Commodore Praut was also itching to get the kark out of system to oversee the repairs of their other ships and the replacement of the Arkania’s fighter control tower, which had been blown off during the engagement. Finally the Albedo brave and her corvettes stood at the center, waiting for us to blow this popsicle stand.

  “Incoming transmission from Coruscant.” One of the Clones says.

  I sigh before answering. It’s more intense than usual, ma’ would probably call it soul deep. I should see about comming my parents again soon: “Very well. Put them up.”

  "Roger that." Comes the reply.

  I turn around and begin marching towards the holotable as the visage of Fleet Admiral Honor appears before me. I snap a salute as I finish my approach: “Ma’am, pleasure to see you.”

  “Dericote. I see you survived. Is this report on my desk accurate?”

  “Assuming it is mine, yes. Enemy had a two to one advantage in ships of the line and strikecraft, while we had a similar advantage in light ships and pickets. The enemy’s isolated force was destroyed before meeting the enemy further within the Dellalt system. The field was prepared with mines and forces assembled. The enemy attempted a three tiered speartip which was used in an attempted Tion spearthrust, which was countered by enveloping the enemy force fully and a timely intervention in the center conducted by my reserve. The system is on lockdown after surrender from the Exarch. Defenses are being disassembled and moved to more strategic locations for reassembly and deployment. Ship- and dockyards are being prepared for scuttling alongside the mining operations on Dorn-E-three-Leth-Alpha-Trill One and Two, although we are holding off on the mining stations until we have readings of Sep forces heading towards us. Sensor buoys are being deployed as we speak so we can avoid any surprise attacks.”

  “Very good, Vice Admiral, very good indeed. I have sent your report to some friends within the Admiralty and my recommendation for promotion to Admiral.” The Fleet Admiral says.

  “I see.” I answer. If there was even a semblance of doubt before about if I would be promoted within the year, it was washed away.

  “It may take another week or two, but the promotion is almost a certainty. I must say, the political intrigue here is some of my best.” She says, patting herself on the back.

  “Of course, ma’am.” I say, best let her enjoy it.

  “Now, with the promotion to Admiral, I believe it is about time we maximize your personal battlegroup. I do believe there is room for another Squadron, though probably not a very large one. I will see what strings are worth pulling. Now, Dellalt is already being used as a lovely piece for the papers, this is the first true incursion into the Tion Cluster after all. Pakuuni may be Tion, but it is a part of Tion like Hosnian is part of the Core, at the very edge with little real influence. Dellalt however, will serve much better for the tabloids. This does mean whenever Dellalt falls you should expect a larger taskforce to attempt to retake the system.”

  “Which the Seps won’t stand for, sending a large force in return. Depending on the officers, it’ll either mean a very costly battle or a siege, like what happened at Dac.” I say.

  “Which do you believe to be more practical?” The Fleet Admiral offers.

  I frown, punching in a couple commands into the holotable, shifting the Fleet Admiral’s depiction beside me and replacing her previous position with a map of the local area. The few Adjutants, be they mine or Tapal’s simply watch as I look over the map.

  I tap on my holster as I shift through the perspectives. Finally I answer: “A siege would be the safer option. It would tie up forces the enemy could otherwise use to continue the campaign along the Perlimian, or force ships from the northern Triellus to more vital systems, making the future campaign easier. Not to mention tying up any ships from using Dellalt as a springboard into the Ash Worlds or Mintooine.”

  “Excellent foresight. I will recommend a more cautious commander and pass along your reasoning.”

  “You’re in an awfully generous mood, ma’am.” I say.

  “My favorite protegee just beat an enemy with minimal terrain advantages and two to one odds against himself. I believe a parcel of pride is appropriate.”

  “I’m your protegee now?” I ask sarcastically.

  “You had some good prospects and my bet on your career paid off. What else do I need for a favorite?”

  “It probably helps that in comparison to the noble clans in the Home Fleet I am much less grating.” I say quietly.

  “That probably does help, Vice Admiral.” She says, a small smile quirking her lips.

  “Anything else I should be made aware of?” I ask.

  “You should prepare your command for your absence. I am uncertain on the outcome of Sector General Praji’s counter-attack on Randon, so you may have to leave the moment you receive the promotion and invitation to Carida.” My apparent mentor says.

  “Very well, ma’am. Though I feel I should apologize for the state your loaned forces will return in.”

  “I’ve already seen the report. The loss of the ships is a pity, but I believe Oicunn’s promotion and garnered experience shall be worth much.”

  “If you say so, ma’am.” I reply.

  “That I do. Don’t disappoint me, Dericote. Fleet Admiral Honor out.” She finishes, her hologram disappearing a moment later.

  My eyes shift around the bridge before speaking: “Anything new to report?”

  “No, sir.” Comes the reply.

  “Then get back to work. I have an absence to plan for.” I order.

  Rear Admiral Hatha looks at the report in front of him. Despite his current stationing leaving him busy convoy raiding the Perlimian and on occasion seizing lesser worlds, he still kept abreast of the goings on around the Tion Cluster. After all, his rival in the Republic Navy was commanding officer there. Dericote was a threat that Raxus didn’t appear to see and now before him, on an inconspicuous datapad, was the proof.

  The report was rather dry. A valiant effort was done, but after being outmaneuvered and encircled the formation had broken down under the pressure. Hatha sighed, that was the worst thing that could happen in a void battle. The formations allowed the battle to be more easily perceived by ht often two dimensionally thinking officers in charge. It kept obvious weakpoints, such as engine blocks, safe and helped concentrate firepower.

  If one formation broke while the other remained it meant almost certain victory for the one with the formation. And clearly the Black Hussar had the skill to orchestrate such a thing, with two to one odds at that. Hatha wasn’t sure if he should be impressed or frightened. Instead he pulls up the Separatist holonet to get a gauge on public opinion.

  Nothing.

  Hatha sighs, wartime censorship at work. He decides to abandon the venture, likely the propagandists and news sites would wait until a Separatist victory before releasing the information. Instead he pulls up his personally adjusted dossier on Dericote, jumping over to the battles and tactics used. He had an amendment to write, even if only his fellow members of the Trade Federation would be allowed to benefit from it.

  I groan in pain and misery at my hangover. Fuckin’ why? There’s a ringing right beside my ear and it takes an embarrassingly long ten seconds until I realize it’s my commlink. I click it on and somehow manage to speak: “Dericote ‘ere.”

  “Sir,” Mi-Kus’ voice says over the line, “We’re being hailed by privateer Captain Hondo Ohnaka.”

  The fuck did the pirate want now? I wonder, as I try and sort through my thoughts. I was in my cabin, the Little Revenge was in drydock over Dac, her bridge almost fully repaired and hull back to usual condition. There had been a riot when my men had taken Dellalt’s shield generators and some poor fucks ended up dead on both sides. I had gotten drunk the moment we had left system, leaving a small blockade to finish moving the miners to Dellalt proper and to act as the remote detonators for whenever the Seps showed up.

  “Wazz he wan’?” I mutter.

  “Says it’s urgent and he wishes for your personal presence asap.”

  I groan as I get up. I needed a shower and probably something to eat: “Wherez he wanna meet?”

  “Drongar if possible, sir.”

  “Fuckin’ ... fine. Prepare the Lil’ Revenge and our frigates for departure. I want this done fast.” I mutter. Fuck my life.

  “As you command.”

  “Anythin’ else?” I ask, starting to remove my clothes for my shower as I do.

  “Have you seen Lieutenant Commander Solo? She isn’t answering her comms.”

  I manage to stop myself from removing my undergarments when I open the refresher to see exactly who Mi-Kus was looking for sleeping next to the toilet, the smell of vomit wafting from the toilet and an empty bottle of whiskey beside her.

  “Found her.”