Indrexu lay behind us, a new belt of debris having started to build as the battle concluded. Over a hundred ships broken by superior Republic firepower. The world had been left behind, not even a threat of bombardment or invasion given as to expedite the taskforce’s movements. There had been a slight reshuffling, with Admiral Z’timin’s three Divisions taking point, followed by my Alpha Division, then General Koth’s Delta Division, with Beta and Gamma Divisions taking up the rearguard. It would do my men good to have the safer roles after taking on the front line for the last two battles.

  Casualties had at least been light so far. Some damage to the armor belts and a lost battery on one of the Venators from Gamma Division, but the formations held strong and damaged ships had been pulled back from the active fighting at Indrexu for emergency repairs. It showed the skill of the repair crews that the ships were almost as good as new by the time we had reached Tion.

  “Exiting in three, two, one.”

  Hyperspace recedes and I take in the battle. Oh dear: “Sitrep! Get the tactical display linked now! Deploy fighters and prepare for imminent engagement!”

  I quickly count the number of enemy ships coming up with … about three hundred ships of the line. There were maybe a hundred Tionese Man o’ Wars alone, alongside around a hundred Munificents, a dozen Recusant lights and … yeah at least fifty Diamond class cruisers and a trio of Providences. Not to mention the thirty Captor class cruisers behind the enemy formation that was charging towards Admiral Z’timin’s line.

  “They’re pressuring the Grey Ghost and her sister ships in the center with those three Providences and eight Man o’ Wars, sir.” Lieutenant Hursk begins.

  “Divert our Venators to the starboard flank to reinforce. They’re under too much pressure for comfort.” I begin, the starboard flank suffering concentrated Munificent fire from some forty ships, “Captain, get the Fondor’s Star into knife fighting range with those three Providences.”

  “Yessir.” Captain Hills acknowledges before turning to his helmsman, “Down three hundred meters, full speed ahead.”

  “Contact the second line, I want our Dreadnoughts and half of the Hammerheads to join us. The others are to take up the rest of our second line under Commodore Miller. He is to place himself under General Koth and impress on the General the need of the reserve’s immediate deployment to where the fighting is most dire when the Jedi arrives.” I continue.

  “Sir, we’ve got fighters incoming!” A sensors officer warns.

  “Keep the flak tight, divert interceptors!” I bark.

  “Sir, the portside flank reporting thirty Tionese Man o’ Wars charging.” Lieutenant Hursk reports.

  “Scramble together a torpedo run from any DP20 that can make intercept headed by the Mudpuppy’s Bite. Inform Captain Voll he has authority to nab any unproductive pickets for support.” I order in response. A corvette run wouldn’t do much against thirty Tionese Man o’ Wars, but a missile or proton torpedo salvo should force them back into a more comfortable range.

  “Enemy Providences almost in range, sir.” The primary gunnery Adjutant reports.

  “Direct fire to the central Providence, then fire at will.” Captain Hills orders sternly.

  “Roger that.” The sailor replies.

  “Delta Division has entered system, sir.”

  “Get me a line to General Koth and contact Commodore Miller. The situation is too dire.” I order. It would take too long for the rest of my Divisions to enter system at this rate. I would have to make do with the five present.

  “Link established. Transmitting.” The comms chief reports.

  General Koth looks too calm in the face of the enemy force as I begin giving my orders: “General Koth, I need you to deploy the 99th Battleship to the center to assist in pushing the enemy back. We’re gaining momentum, but too much can be lost if we do not put more pressure on the enemy. Deploy your remaining Venators to the starboard flank and send your Invincible to the portside flank to assist in fighting off the Tionese charge.”

  The Jedi nods then speaks: “What of the other ships in the reserve?”

  “Divide them into their Engagement Groups and deploy them where practical. Prioritize the areas between the flanks where we haven’t sent many ships to.” I order as the shields shudder from a targeted turbolaser volley.

  “I will see what can be done.” The Jedi replies.

  “Sir?” Commodore Miller then asks.

  “Get the rest of your force together and scramble the light cruisers and my Mon Cala ships from the reserve. I am charging you with leading a counter assault on the enemy on our far portside flank. The Tionese should be an able match and won’t out range you significantly. Keep them under pressure and advise whoever is in command of the flank to join you as soon as practical.”

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  “As you command, sir.” The Commodore replies as the holograms go out.

  I turn towards the now burning central Providence, the ship essentially broken by our sustained fire. Captain Hills quietly directs the gunnery officers to shift their targets to the portside vessel as bombers and fighters engage in the age old dance that is their dogfighting. I return my attention to the tactical display so I can watch my orders be carried out.

  It was … agonizing, that at this scale I could not immediately help. Ships raced along the line and entire formations exchanged fire the same way a single ships would on a smaller scale. Slowly the picture of the battle sharpened. The torpedo run from the DP20s, headed by Captain Voll, smashed against their foes and pushed the portside, suffering significant damage as they go, before Commodore Miller got within heavy turbolaser range.

  The starboard flank stabilized as reinforcements took on the Munificents and blunted their attack, beginning a Republic counter as the 99 th Battleship arrives, adding further pressure to the advance. Commodore Miller’s reinforcements on the portside outflanking the retreating Tionese sailors and almost wiping the entire formation out as the Seps try to send in reservists. The enemy center buckles under the pressure as the two remaining Divisions arrive in system. Good, their arrival would allow the more damaged ships to hold back for repairs while we press on.

  “Beta and Gamma Divisions are to surge forward and pursue the retreating enemy. All damaged ships are to hold back while the undamaged ships begin their own surge once Beta and Gamma are thirty clicks out. Damaged ships to begin emergency repairs once the enemy has been pushed back. Keep our strikecraft close and await further instructions.” I order calmly as we slowly pursue the sole remaining Providence, keeping her just within heavy turbolaser range as the Seps race towards their remaining ships. It seems they had underestimated us somewhat, having only sent half of their ships against the three original operations divisions in system. An understandable mistake, if a foolhardy one. Never fight fairly when you can win more decisively without fairness.

  Just as calculated, by the time Beta and Gamma Divisions join alongside us the entire Republic force, excluding those too damaged to be of much use now, were charging at the same speed, turbolasers firing off against the closing Seps’ rear. And yet as the distance slowly decreased I could already see the rest of the Sep’s forces move to take up defensive positions around the orbital defenses of ancient Tion. That could be a problem.

  “Take out their engines and leave them dead in space.” I order. I needed to lure out the enemy.

  “Sir, Commodore Benno and Zeta Division are moving out of formation.” Lieutenant Hursk warns.

  “What is he doing?” I wonder, a hint of anger and annoyance in my voice.

  “Zeta Division has diverted from the main advance and is gunning for the planetary capitol. They’ve got thirty Man o’ Wars and a dozen Diamonds in front of them, alongside three of the Banking Clan Gun Platforms.” The Lieutenant answers.

  I frown. Those forces were out of the way. Sure they could be dangerous if they followed us to Raxus, but I’d bet a year’s wages they would stay to defend the heart of Tionese civilization. My eyes narrow as I consider. Losing some thirty ships of the line out of the two hundred forty five I had for this battle when facing a hundred and fifty wasn’t exactly great, but … it was also locking down over forty enemy ships of the line. A good enough trade.

  “He may continue with his current trajectory and engage the enemy before him. Adjust the formation and prepare a full concussion missile barrage alongside our opening heavy turbolaser volley.” I order as I accept the reality of the situation. The Commodore would be reprimanded for this, but if his decision proved sound I would let it slide. Initiative won battles after all.

  The Republic Intelligence Agent was starting to get on Owen’s nerves. He had work to do dammit! How was he supposed to know how that monster Grievous got through Ghorman space anyway? And now the bastards were letting him stew instead of letting him work! At this rate he’d have to work late again and he was sick and tired of that! He had reports to look over, formations to organize before shipping them out to the Republic, formations within the planetary defense force to reactivate and another recruitment drive to organize! Those things took days and he was almost fucking done with it all! He did not have the time to console some Republic Intelligence asshole who needed to assure himself that the General was a Republic lapdog!

  With that thought the bastard enters the room again, the man’s eyes sharp and smirk rather cruel: “Sorry for the wait, General Dericote.”

  “Bah, just get done with it.” Owen complains.

  “You are Owen Luke Dericote?” The officer asks.

  “To anyone but family.” He answers. Full names weren’t given out on a whim.

  “You are the son of Luke Davafid Dericote?”

  “Despite my past misgivings, yes.”

  “You are the father of Thraken Owen Dericote?”

  “He’s a Fleet Admiral, give him the respect of it.” Owen complains. He would never insist on his own rank, but his son’s was one to be proud of.

  “Of course.” The man says, though his eyes show the platitude for a lie, “You are the Fleet Admiral’s father?”

  “Which one?” Owen decides to be obstinate.

  “Fleet Admiral Dericote.”

  “I am.” Owen answers.

  “Do you and he share associates?” The Agent asks with a glint in his eyes.

  “Some. We have the same family after all.”

  “I am alluding to Fleet Admiral Dericote’s Marshal Administrator's Agents.” The Intelligence Officer clarifies.

  “In that case, I don’t know.” Owen offers.

  “It is believed your adoptive son, an Elix Dericote, is one of such informants.” The Agent tries.

  “He might be. They’ve known each other long enough for us to adopt Elix anyhow.” Owen evades.

  “How did you become the commanding officer of Fondor’s planetary security forces?” The Agent asks, his tone still even despite Owen’s evasions.

  “Stumbled into it really. Happened to have some good connections to the unions and syndicates alongside being the only man who actually knew how to work logistics in the office after the Seps purged my coworkers and replaced them with nepotistic officers and Techno Union lackeys. So they put me in charge of the department.”

  Owen pauses a moment, gauging the reaction from the Republic Intelligence officer. It was … difficult, but the Fondorian was sure the asshole was almost done with him. After all, there were many other people who could answer these questions and the interrogation wasn’t really working, now was it?

  “From there it was almost annoyingly easy to get support from my fellow officers who lost family and convinced those who hadn’t they they’d probably be next. Then when the dust settled, I was the highest ranking man left standing and had somehow gotten the loyalty of the defense fleet on my side. It was par for the course after that.” Owen explains honestly. Though, he did overstate how easy it had been to convince some of the officers, there had been a quiet purge of various Captains and imprisonment of various officers in the final hours before the revolt.

  “Why has Fondor increased her defense fleet and her local militia?”

  “We’re at war. Mechis and Yag’Dhul are a day and a bit out at most. Sure the Republic says the war’s almost over, but I’ve read the history of my family. Even when the enemy leaders are dead, unless they’re replaced with new, legitimate ones that realize the futility of their situation, the people will keep fighting. I’ll bet a week’s wages on this war, in some way, shape, or form, continuing for at least another three years at least.” Owen answers.

  “Does Fondor not feel protected by its garrison?”

  “As protected as we felt with a Sep garrison over our heads. Some things are best left to one’s fellow citizen and not a foreign army.” Owen answers.

  The officer pauses a moment as if considering Owen’s words. The Fondorian doesn’t believe that for even a moment. However either way the Republic Intelligence officer continues: “It is rather impressive how the planetary defense fleet has managed to stay independent for so long.”

  “A privilege we received during the Great Sith War if memory serves. Our defense fleet may remain unimpeded and independent as long as we produce three ships for the Republic for every one ship we produce for ourselves and willingly provide a portion of our defense fleet to serve directly under the Republic’s jurisdiction.” Owen admits.

  “And the reclassification of multiple smaller elements to the Fondorian customs fleet?” The Agent asks.

  Owen leans towards the man: “Insurance.”

  The Intelligence officer leans back before nodding: “I think that will be all for today. You may leave, but please don’t leave the planet’s surface for the next standard week.”

  Owen leaves with a bad taste in his mouth.