I stare out into space as I finish reading my report. We’ll be leaving two decently damaged Acclamators, a Pelta transport to help with repairs and a duet of corvettes that didn’t technically belong to any real formation. I’d pulled them from twelve corvettes which were organized into a temporary flotilla. The flotilla was slowly being cannibalized after every battle to support garrisons and replace destroyed pickets. It was down to eight now, not bad, but certainly not good either.

  We’d lost some fifty sailors and about a hundred pilots over Dennogra and left two regiments behind to garrison the world’s surface. The people seemed to treat the occupying force with the same apathy they had apparently treated the droid patrols. Just as the Exarch had promised, their soldiers had stood down and the droids had been deactivated. The militia would be re-armed eventually, once their loyalties had been made more certain.

  A perfectly pacified, if slightly disgruntled, world added back to the Republic, added to my regional command, another world under my protection. Maker keep me. I let out a sigh as I glance at the next stage of the plan. We’d be leaving in a few minutes now, having only spent eight hours over Dennogra so far. Speed was essential for the plan, the enemy could not know what we were doing until we were on top of them, unless the campaign fall apart.

  I read through a report. There was some suspicious activity near Dellalt, forces heading for the Separatist world once more after almost abandoning it once my forces had destroyed the orbital infrastructure. That could pose a problem to the Ash Worlds, the sector’s primary defenders currently conducting this campaign alongside me.

  I frown as I glance over the starcharts. At least Mintooine should be safe. The Mon Cala Merchant fleet having agreed to station a rather large portion, a full quarter, of her ships to patrol and garrison the system during the absence of the 99th Battleship Section.

  I was also missing a status report from Altratonne. It was rather concerning as the sparsely inhabited world was one of the chokepoints I was using to ensure the safety of the inner Ash Worlds. Balshebr too had gone comms silent, the agri-world’s food shipments stopping with their silence. Maybe the Seps had pushed into the Ash Worlds already, taking advantage of my forces’ absence. But did that mean they knew where my ships were, or did they simply pounce when they got a whiff of weakness?

  “Sir, all forces are prepared to depart.” Lieutenant Hursk reports.

  “Very well. All ships, jump!” I order. One by one my ships, my men, entered hyperspace, racing towards their next targets.

  We exit hyperspace almost on top of the enemy.

  “EVASIVE ACTION! EMERGENCY POWER INTO OUR SHIELDS!” I bark in a panic, that Munificent was way too close.

  “Fire at will!” Mi-Kus barks.

  We scrape by it, the gap between our ships maybe a few meters wide, turbolaser smashing against the enemy’s underside as we bank towards our starboard. Another ship, a Pelta emerging from hyperspace a couple hundred meters to our side, the evasive action throwing the formation, we had entered hyperspace in, into mayhem.

  It’s a long minute of evasive action, ships crossing paths too close for comfort as turbolasers scream into enemy ships. The enemy’s five Munificents standing little to no chance against two full battlegroups and another squadron’s worth of ships. The Seps go down in mere minutes, succumbing to our fire. However the chaos caused by us jumping on top of them requires twice as long as the skirmish. We had finally formed into formation and stationed ourselves comfortably over Taskeed’s capitol, our weapons glaring down at the enemy below.

  My mood is stormy, I may have gotten a half decent nap during our travel to Taskeed, but that wasn’t enough for a full reset of my emotions. Emotions already tainted from the bombardment over Dennogra and now further darkened by this … mistake. A single more degree off in our jump and we would have smashed into an asteroid belt, or the enemy proper. It was not acceptable.

  “How did the error happen?” I ask glaring down at the navigators.

  “It was a minor mistake in the pre-programmed routes. We didn’t notice it until we had finished the jump, a relatively minor mistake in all honesty, we wouldn’t have ended up like the Katana.” My primary navigator says.

  “What was the mistake?” I ask.

  “We’ve been using a lot of minor astronomical object on the starcharts as safeguards to ensure our safe, yet precise, exits from hyperspace. Unluckily for us, the computer misjudged the position of the large asteroid we planned to use as our final exit-marker. But before we hit the maximum distance exit that would have pulled us out about two hundred and fifty seven klicks further in system it detected the enemy formation. So instead of the asteroid or the primary backup exit point, it thought the Sep forces were our intended position.” The navigations officer slowly says.

  “Do we know what was the cause of the asteroids differing position?” I ask.

  “It looks like the Seps moved it for easier travel along the Triellus between Sy Myrth and Oovo.”

  I slowly let the air leave my lungs as I nod. I needed to prevent something like this from happening again: “Here’s what you will do. Recalculate all our jump points and use larger astronomical objects for our unconventional exit positions and make sure to add another backup exit point closer to our intended target, two fifty kay is too much extra distance I don’t want. As for the astronomical objects, maybe instead of a series of asteroids, use an asteroid cluster or lesser planetoid. I’d rather give the Seps slightly more time to react than smash against a star or be caught in some shit terrain deeper in system because an older starchart doesn’t include the artificial movements of an asteroid. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir. It will take time, slow the campaign.” The man warns.

  “Get it done. Prioritize our journey to Jabiim and Handooine, we’ll be resupplying at Handooine anyway. Also inform Lieutenant Slas of the dangers you noticed and have her transmit it in code to our other units. The operation isn’t lost yet.” I order.

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  “As you command.” The man replies with a quickly snapped salute, moving alongside his underlings to a conference room where they could begin pouring over the information at hand. I slowly breathe in and out as I walk over to the holoprojector.

  “Do you think we’ve made them sweat enough?” I ask.

  “We have time, even with the navigational error.” Mi-Kus says.

  “Yes, but our other forces are still on schedule. I would hate to arrive at Jabiim only to find Commodore Praut and General Krugwolt already sitting pretty over the world.” I reply, to which Mi-Kus sighs.

  “We’re already going to transmit the navigational error to our forces, we might as well inform them to wait for a bit longer while we fix it.” Mi-Kus tries.

  I consider my underling’s suggestion. It wasn’t a bad one. I sigh as I nod: “Very well, run over to the Lieutenant before she finishes the information package.”

  “By your leave.” Mi-Kus replies before marching off himself.

  Lieutenant Hursk looks expectantly at me as I take a moment to ponder my situation. We did have time, Dennogra had fallen without much bloodshed, Xoraes had fallen with minimal losses, as had Jubilar. Oovo would be seized soon, the detached taskforce more than large enough to take on whatever garrison was left after the Seps stripped it to hold off our forces around Saleucami.

  “Contact the planetary governor below.” I order. Taskeed was important for its mining industry, her black sands a solid source of iron and her deep cavern mines a supplementary source of various minerals and metals needed in the Forge of the Confederacy. If it wasn’t for nearby Jabiim and Dennogra, Taskeed would likely be mined dry for the war effort.

  “We have a connection with Yefowr.” Hursk says, before stepping back.

  Another visage of a concerned looking Governor to add to my ever growing collection. This one is a slightly portly looking man with a rather extravagantly braided beard and clean shaven skull. Worst of all, the man was proudly wearing the uniform of the Confederate Armed Forces, though I could only truly tell from his markings as a Colonel on his shoulder.

  “Arch Mayor. I would demand your unconditional surrender.” I begin.

  “I am more likely to shit durasteel.” The gruff man replies, “Taskeed will not fall to the likes of a traitor to one’s world and a pirate in all but name.”

  “Come now, I haven’t done much raiding recently. I’ve been too busy seizing Free Dac Volunteer strongholds and liberating people from Separatist prisons and droid occupation to bother with it.” I joke, “Do surrender, I have little mind to bother much with your world. Don’t let the black sands of your world turn crimson with blood.”

  “You will have to pry my world from my cold dead hands.” The man grandstands.

  “Very well. Begin a targeting matrix on the Arch Mayor’s offices. We will turn it to slag and see who is willing to negotiate then.” I order.

  “You don’t have the balls for it, Hussar! And even if you did, you won’t make it through my shield.”

  “Let’s test that theory.” I reply coldly, “Lieutenant, please inform all Dreadnought heavy cruisers in our formation, three volleys, on the center of the Governor’s offices. Any missed shots will result in the loss of privileges and possible censure.” I order.

  “As you command.” Lieutenant Hursk says, his voice betraying no emotion, his face showing only a dutiful resignation as he motions for a comms officer to relay my order.

  I glare into the slowly widening eyes of the Arch Mayor as the first turbolaser smashes into the man’s shields, followed by another and another, until over a hundred blue arcs of fire and flame have smashed like hammers against the man’s personal shields. Again and again, like a relentless storm, until it breaks and the man’s eyes, wide with horror and fear and resignation, close, the transmission going out a moment later.

  I take a deep breath before speaking: “Hold fire. Get me the local equivalent of their Lieutenant Governor, or someone else in charge of that barren rock. They have a surrender to give me. Prepare to deploy our garrison as well.”

  “Sir, all due respect, but I’m not sure if there will be anyone to contact.” Hursk confesses.

  “There’s always some sandcricket that survives the storm. I don’t care if the person in charge is a half drunk Sergeant one week away from a dishonorable discharge or a halfwit administrator who’s a single mistake away from getting fired. Get in contact with them and prepare to deploy the garrison.” I double down.

  Hursk flinches slightly, before nodding and saluting.

  “One more thing.” I say, the Lieutenant turning back for a moment, “If you cannot find someone, I will take full responsibility for the destruction of Taskeed’s leadership. I am not trying to put an impossible task upon your shoulders, Lieutenant.”

  The younger man nods solemnly before snapping a firmer salute and marching off. I turn about to the transparasteel window and gaze out into the stars. Maker keep me.

  “Transmission from Oovo, sir.”

  “Don’t keep the General waiting.” I reply. Soon enough the visage of General Tapal and his ever present Padawan appear before me, I nod respectfully in greeting as the connection stabilizes.

  “We will try and keep this short, due to the possible security risk.” Tapal begins.

  “Don’t let me stop you.” I reply.

  “Oovo was lightly garrisoned. We have successfully disabled the full enemy force of three Munificents and four Captor class cruiser/carriers. We also had the Force on our side, as a convoy of Separatist warships headed for Saleucami or the Halla Sector, arrived in system shortly afterwards. An additional three Munificents, two Munifexes and a Recusant light destroyer were disabled. We do not believe the Separatists know of our location yet, but it will only be a matter of time now.”

  I frown at the words of the Lasat Jedi. That was not good. I recenter myself as I ask for further information: “What of the prison? Has it been secured and the detachment deployed for prisoner transfer and release?”

  “Commodore Pixis’ 388th Logistics Section has been detached. The prison is secure after a short and bloody boarding action. It was rather … messy, I am glad my Padawan did not participate in it and commanded the Albedo Brave in my stead.” The General says. I nod despite my displeasure. A teenager was not the right person to lead a ship, even if he was the technically highest ranking flag officer present.

  “Casualties?” I ask.

  “Some mild damage to our cruisers and battleships, but nothing severe. We lost twenty two pilots and a hundred and seventy nine dead in the boarding action, another three hundred and six wounded with plans to be sent back to medical facilities once we reach our rally point for rest and resupply.”

  “A regrettable loss of life, but an acceptable outcome overall. Due to our latest delays we will be leaving within forty two minutes. Adjust your schedule accordingly.” I inform the Jedi.

  He nods solemnly, before bowing alongside his curious looking Padawan. The transmission goes cold a moment later and I turn to the caf bearing Adjutant.

  “We’ve managed to finally contact the current leader of Taskeed, sir.” Lieutenant Hursk says as he offers me the caf.

  “Bring ‘em up and good job.” I say as a new visage takes over my holoprojector. It’s an incredibly nervous looking Mirilian man, his headdress failing to hide the man’s sweat. I glance him up and down, no rank plaque. A civilian administrator then, likely a local.

  “I … am here to negotiate the surrender of Taskeed to the Republic.” The man says.

  “Your surrender will be unconditional. You will shut down or dismantle your droid legions, you will have any sentient forces stand down, you will inform the people of Taskeed that resistance will not be tolerated and collaboration rewarded, finally Taskeed will host an orbital and surface garrison alongside a temporary military Governor from one of the chosen regiments until a time where elections can be held without risk of further secession. In return for your good behavior and quick surrender supplementary supplies and rations will be handed out and any infrastructure in need of repair can have said repairs done by the garrison as long as good behavior remains constant.” I demand.

  “And if we refuse?” The man hopes.

  “I am negotiating with you now, because of what happened to the last man to refuse my demands.” I threaten, shutting down the inkling of resistance the man had.

  “I am willing to surrender on behalf of Taskeed, but we will require time to deactivate the droids, since the command codes were lost in the … with the Arch Mayor.”

  “Get it done. You have an hour, or else we’ll simply dismantle the droids from orbit.” I inform the Mirilian, an imitation of my bloodthirsty smirk on my face as I say the dreaded words.

  “I’ll … see what I can do.” The Mirilian says, before the transmission goes cold.

  “Sir?” Hursk asks. I run my hand of flesh over my face as I let out a sigh. I readjust my officer’s cap from its slightly askew position before turning to the Lieutenant.

  “We’re on a schedule. The enemy knows something is up by now. We cannot risk further delays and we cannot leave behind more ships than already planned.” I mutter, trying to reason with myself as much as with my Adjutant.

  “Of course, sir.” The man starts, then stops, hesitating. He finally gathers the courage needed before continuing, “Isn’t this going too far? I know standard bombardments on strategic positions and strategic infrastructure is permitted, but this seems a bit … much.”

  “There are many lines I will not cross, but we’ve done this before at Targonn and will continue to do it if it means the enemy won’t put up too much resistance. I’d rather kill a thousand enemy administrators, soldiers and rulers by orbital bombardment than subject the world to a planetary invasion. It is the far more costly alternative of the two.” I say hoarsely.