Serenno, Serenno System
D’Astan Sector
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“The Chiss girl’s usefulness has come to an end,” Lord Sidious proclaimed, “She is now but a thorn in our side. You will eliminate her before she grows to threaten your grasp on the Separatist systems.”
Dressed in a rich cloak of burgundy, the Dark Lord of the Sith stood over his apprentice. Hood raised over his head, his ensemble so voluminous it shrouded all but the figure’s lower face and hands from light. All that could be seen from that shadowed face, were a pair of glowing, baleful golden eyes.
“Yes, my Master,” Dooku replied, kneeling on the floor of his castle, “I have already sent my best agents to remove her from our plans.”
It was the outcome Count Dooku had expected, but was a great shame nonetheless. When Lord Sidious first introduced him to Sev’rance Tann, he had been… overwrought, by her outward lack of Force presence. But she was not lacking in potential, and for all the traditional skills she was incapable of, she made up for in areas more profound.
Sev’rance Tann should have been the perfect apprentice. She was dignified, methodical and well-learned-if not particularly eloquent or politically-minded-yet impassioned and eager to learn the ways of the Dark Side. She bore no complaint from punishment, only because she rarely ever failed. Indeed, she should have been the perfect apprentice.
But the girl had never truly pursued the teachings of the Dark Side-only what it had to offer. Dooku knew that had a Jedi found her first, she would have been convinced to join their Order just as easily-provided that she had access to the deepest annals of the Temple’s library-even if she would just as similarly never truly adopt the Light.
The Sith saw no need to take on only young disciples, though they often did. Sometimes the training went smoother with disciples who had lived long enough to grow disillusioned or angry or vengeful. Sev’rance Tann was none of that. She was not fueled by any great emotion other than personal ambition. Sometimes, that was all a Sith needed, but the Chiss’ ambition had already been tempered by years of military training, not to mention a culture wholly unknown to the galaxy at large. She did not carry an ounce of darkness within her.
Count Dooku knew that once he refused to teach her any longer, or had nothing left to teach, Sev’rance would not hesitate to abandon-if not betray-him. It was then that he realised she could never learn of the Grand Plan. Despite how much he enjoyed mentoring her, she would only be as much of a tool to him as he was a tool to her.
“You must not underestimate her, Lord Tyranus,” Sidious warned, “You had taught her well, and without the shroud of the Dark Side clouding her gaze, she is especially dangerous. You must tread cautiously. Her manipulation of the war has displeased me greatly.”
What a shame. What a shame. With Sev’rance’s military genius and his own political prowess, they could have overthrown and rebuilt the galaxy together, in their image. Sidious would no longer have any reason to exist. Regretfully, she ultimately did not share his vision for a pure, restored galaxy, personified by authority and order. She ultimately held no attachment to the larger galaxy, not when her true masters still existed deep in the Unknown Regions.
When the Plan comes to fruition, there will be no corner of the galaxy free from my New Order. Not the Gree Enclave, not Hapes, not Hutt Space, and not even this Chiss Ascendancy.
“Shonn Volta is a highly capable assassin, my lord,” Dooku exhaled with purpose, “And if she is not enough, I believe eliminating Sev’rance will be a fitting test for our new pawn.”
“Grievous…” the Sith Lord said with calculated slowness, “Indeed, Lord Tyranus, he will serve our purposes. You had taught Sev’rance much of what she now knows, but you did not teach her everything.”
Darth Sidious eyed him from beneath the cowl of his cloak, closely examining his every reaction. His final word was as much a statement as it was a warning-a threat-against any idea of disobedience.
“I had not, just as you instructed,” Dooku replied faithfully, “Sev’rance still believes her foresight to be unfailing, and herself unassailable. She cannot fathom being wrong.”
“Well done,” Sidious’ lips curled, “I have guaranteed that the girl will not be able to return to the Foundry in time. Instead, Grievous will become the saviour of the Separatist Alliance. It is time for our new piece to play his role.”
“It will be done, Master.”
“Do not fail me, Lord Tyranus,” Darth Sidious snarled.
As his master’s holoprojection winked out, Dooku all but glided to his feet, displaying not an ounce of imbalance even after kneeling for so long. Refined posture at all times-even in absence of an audience-was after all a hallmark of a true noble. That was something Sev’rance Tann could understand. Unlike, for example, that repulsive cyborg Grievous.
Though, that wasn''t any fault of his own. When the pitiful creature was rebuilt, his mind had been… adjusted to better fit his intended role. For all he was aware-and soon the galaxy-Grievous has always been a merciless, monstrous thing of war.
Count Dooku of Serenno keyed in the transceiver address, and did not have to wait long for a response.
A seven-foot tall monster of durasteel appeared over him, whatever sliver of sapience left in the creation found in two hateful, bloody eyes, rimmed by raw periocular skin, captured behind a skull-like faceplate. Quite the alien beast, even to aliens.
“Is it time, Count Dooku?” the Kaleesh warlord demanded, guttural and terrifying to any lesser being.
Dooku couldn’t be more pleased with the result. Grievous will never be another Sev’rance Tann in some regards, but in others he was far more than she will ever be. While Sev’rance was a delight to teach, Grievous was a delight to train. He never needed to coax out the cyborg’s anger and rage, as Dooku had been forced to do with his Dark Acolytes-and never succeeded with Sev’rance-not when anger and rage was all that’s left inside the creature after his reconstruction.
Few Jedi would survive an encounter with Grievous, as he had proven quite capably on Christophsis. There had been moments in their training sessions when even Dooku-who was one of the most legendary blademasters in living history-had struggled to outduel the cyborg.
But Dooku didn’t teach him everything. He never did.
“It is quickly approaching, General,” Dooku’s seat was most comfortable, especially after he had graced the floor in the presence of his master, “What do you think of your new flagship?”
Grievous growled, “It will serve me well.”
And you will serve me well.
Dooku allowed himself an imperceptible smile, “Then it is time for the weapon’s first field tests… and the declaration of your existence. The Republic will fear you, General, and the Jedi most of all.”
“I don’t care if the Jedi fear me,” Grievous snapped, “Only if they are dead.”
Ah… that most single-minded loathing for the Jedi, for their perceived crimes against him. Very quaint. Very useful. Grievous’ cruel tactics and barbarism will make him the perfect scapegoat on which to hang every atrocity of this war, once his usefulness has run dry. Something Sev’rance could never be, considering her sense of honour and adherence to law.
“Then prepare to move to Columex at my command,” Dooku instructed, “There will be many Jedi for you to kill indeed.”
Everything is proceeding as planned, Master. Dooku felt the Force warping even as Grievous bowed shallowly and disappeared. The Force is very much with us.
Orbit of Metalorn, Metalorn System
Talcene Sector
“The Ruling Power will not subscribe to your so-called Coalition, officer,” Ruler Nine rebuked, “Nor will we harbour the Clysm Fleet in our docks. We are quite capable of defending ourselves.”
His hologram shimmered and waved, whipping the Euceron’s lanky body like an inflatable air dancer. He represented the government of Euceron, the Ruling Power. They were a sort of council, with each of their ten members referred to by their number, hence Ruler Nine.
“You realise in that case, Euceron will bear the brunt of the Republic invasion force alone?” Calli asked, “Even with our help, Salvara could not-”
“Do not insult us, officer,” the tall humanoid had to bend to glare us down, “We are a wealthy world, and our security forces outstrip both the Salvaran and Clysm fleets combined. Besides, Commander Trilm, were you not able to defend Salvara for three whole days even outnumbered and outgunned?”
Calli baulked, “That was-”
Ruler Nine interrupted her with a spindly, delicate finger, “We greatly admire your prowess, officer. Indeed, your brave defence secured a laudable settlement for the Salvaran people. We intend on following in your footsteps. Joining this Coalition will only paint a target on our backs.”
I stared blankly at Calli, wondering whether an annoyed, exasperated, or scathing look will carry my point across effectively. The Serennian met my gaze and lifted an arched brow, daring me to speak my piece. After a moment, I opted for a more diplomatic ‘seriously?’ face. Beggars can’t be choosers I guess.
“Do you speak for the entire Ruling Council, sir?” I decided to try.
“As the Senator from Euceron,” Ruler Nine said loftily, “I speak for the entire Eucer Sector. Your so-called ‘protection’ is not worth the price of surrendering our freedoms to your… military junta. Not when we can protect ourselves. That is all, officers.”
His arm reached out and cut the connection, leaving Calli and I alone. I toggled a switch on the armrest, and Vinoc’s holo sprouted in the Euceron’s place, having been listening in out of sight the whole time.
“We have a problem,” the fallen Jedi said seriously, “Ruler Nine said he relayed the will of the entire Eucer Sector. That includes Ringo Vinda.”
Calli nodded stiffly, “My thoughts exactly.”
“The Ringo Vindans signed the treaty,” I rubbed my cheek, “Have they double-crossed us?”
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“We can’t allow that,” Calli grimaced, “We all saw the simulations. Ringo Vinda is the linchpin of our entire operation. I will talk with their government again, and renegotiate the treaty if I must. Hopefully Ruler Nine was bluffing. But if not…”
“We may have to seize the system by force.” Vinoc sighed, “… But the man had a point; what if Euceron does put up a good showing against the Republic? The Coalition''s member worlds might slip away if that happens.”
“It won’t. There is not a match for those Tector-class Star Destroyers in our arsenal save for a Providence-class dreadnought. Salvara cannot be recreated. The sole reason Salvara turned out the way it did is because of one reason,” Calli Trilm jabbed a thumb at her own chest, “And that’s my personal intervention. Ground-to-orbit artillery are a huge force multiplier, but hard to come by without the same money and connections that I have. Not even Ringo Vinda has them.”
“They made a poor showing regardless,” Vinoc pointed out, “From the records you sent us, at least.”
“That’s user error, not a design flaw,” Calli crossed her arms, “I’ve already figured them out. Euceron is going to be completely crushed precisely because they blundered at Salvara.”
“… Ah, I see,” I suddenly understood what she was getting at, “The Tectors are the testbed for a new military doctrine with a lot of political weight behind it. The Republic simply cannot afford for them to fail. So since they dropped the ball at Salvara, Republic High Command is going to take extra precautions to make sure they succeed at Euceron. New commanders, proper tactics, the like.”
And more worryingly, these Tectors looked suspiciously similar to the Imperial Star Destroyer-almost uncannily so. The only reason I wouldn’t confidently state that they are ISDs is the fact that it’s been decades since I’ve watched the Original Trilogy, and that I can’t exactly remember what they looked like. All those arrow-shaped Star Destroyers looked the same to me back then, honestly… Venators, ISDs, those new First Order ones, whatever they were called. Well, other than the Executor and Snoke’s mothership. I can pick those out of a line-up any day.
Now, though, I can identify a Venator with my eyes closed. Fuck, I count them when I sleep.
Anyway, I fear something has changed with the Republic, and that the Tectors may be a sign of their hastening devolution into the Empire… even if I can’t exactly point out why. Regardless, it’s all the more the reason to help the Confederacy survive this war. I made my bed a long time ago.
“Exactly,” Calli nodded appreciatively, “I’m in the Euceron System right now, and from what I can see, while Ruler Nine isn’t exactly lying, he’s still greatly exaggerating the state of the Euceron Security Forces. This fleet is big on paper, but it’s outdated by several decades. Old Munifex cruisers and Auxilias mostly. If the entire sector combines forces, I’d say they’d have about a hundred Rendili Dreadnaughts and maybe a dozen or two Invincibles. Nothing that will stop a resentful and determined Republic.”
“Shouldn’t we send them what we know about the Republic’s fleet, then?” Vinoc asked, “To give them a fighting chance?”
“Why would we want Euceron to have a fighting chance?” I scolded, “Intel sharing is one of the agreements in the treaty, you know? They didn’t sign it. It’s unfortunate, but they’ll need to take the fall for us to succeed. They’ve established that their destruction is a them problem. Let’s respect that.”
It’s much easier to sign away the lives of millions when they weren’t staring me right in the face. Some days I still think about the clone troopers I rescued over Leesis, and how else I would’ve acted if I wasn’t personally overseeing the operation then. Out of sight, out of mind, they say.
“Agreed,” Calli nodded, “The harder the Eucerons get crushed, the easier it will be to convince the rest of the Foundry to join us for protection.”
“Then get out of there,” I consulted my mental star map, “To… Ringo Vinda, I suppose. Make any repairs you need, then contact Jorm.”
“Very well,” she couldn’t quite rid her frown, “And what about Trench?”
“What does he think of the Coalition?”
Calli scoffed, “Nothing will come of it until he hears what the Corporate Alliance has to say.”
I took a moment to think, “… Even if we aren’t working together, we still have a common enemy. The Invincible is still at Raxus-send him there. He’ll be redeployed back here sooner or later.”
“It’ll be good optics, having Trench on our side, even if by technicality,” she agreed, “I concur. I’ll see you then.”
I waited until her disconnection pinged, then turned to Vinoc, “Where are you now?”
“Boonta,” Vinoc shifted, “They welcomed us, if nothing else.”
“Do you think it’s worth the effort to sway them to our side?”
“The Separatist Alliance, or the Coalition?”
“Both.”
“Likely, with some trade incentives,” Vinoc said, “Tell me, why is this Perlemian Coalition so important? It was never part of the plan.”
“Important? It isn’t important for you,” I leaned back, “But it’s important for me, for Trilm, and for every officer in our, well, coalition. It’s a guarantee of our safety. That’s why we created it.”
The fallen Jedi narrowed his eyes, “Explain.”
I held back a huff, “Figure it out yourself. I’ll give you a hint; what are we doing, from Parliament’s perspective?”
“Defending the Confederacy,” he answered immediately.
“Perhaps. But I and the other officers believe that is wishful thinking,” I said blankly, “What we are doing is failing to defend the Confederacy. We are losing battle after battle- do you think those politicians will understand the nuances of organised retreat and defence-in-depth? They are only going to read the first page of the reports and see defeat after defeat after defeat. Your master will protect you from the backlash, but what about the rest of us?”
“When General Tann becomes Supreme Commander, all of you will-”
“If General Tann becomes Supreme Commander,” I corrected, “Remember that Sidestep has two phases. The first phase forces the Senate to elect a Supreme Commander by manipulating the strategic situation, and the second phase is to convince the Senate to elect General Tann specifically. Too many things can go wrong with phase two.”
“We will succeed,” Vinoc stated firmly, “This plan will not fail. The Force-”
“You don’t know that,” I shot back, “Forgive me, but I cannot rely on… on the Force like you can. I must prepare for the chance that our new Supreme Commander will bend to the will of Parliament, or worse. The Coalition is our guarantee to ensure that will never happen. One way or another, Sev’rance Tann must become Supreme Commander.”
I knew what worse entailed. I can’t let that happen.
Vinoc scratched his beard, “I still don’t see how the Coalition achieves that.”
“Figure it out yourself,” I repeated, “Look, an apprentice must cover their master’s blindspots. Sev’rance Tann might be a military prodigy, but she tends to look at things from a bird’s eye view and miss what’s directly in front of her. All of her strategies until now… with all respect, are completely stupid unless you are Sev’rance Tann.”
Vinoc was taken aback by the sheer amount of weight I put in the word stupid. Truthfully, I only dared to say it so bluntly because Vinoc was not in the same room as me, and I doubted he could choke me through a screen like Vader can.
“She’s a peerless architect, no doubt about it. But as field officers we’re the engineers that must make her frankly convoluted designs work,” I droned on, “And well, look at the situation we are in. Plans never go to plan in a war, and no sane staff officer creates the same plans that General Tann does. They’re just too unrealistic.”
“… She can see the future to some degree,” Vinoc said after some hesitation, “That is why this will work.”
Well, that explains… a lot, actually. I internally processed Force-clairvoyance, before deciding that was about par for the course. Anakin kinda did that in Episode III, didn’t he? Then I processed the implications of him telling me what I presumed to be a closely guarded secret. Ultimately, I opted not to air my worries, concluding that it was above my pay grade, and thus not my problem. Until it becomes my problem, but that’s for future me to handle.
“Really? Sorry, but it’s my job to not share your level of blind faith,” I pointed out, “You and I, we don’t get the same luxury she does. We can’t decide what we need to make our strategies work; we have to make our strategies work using what we have. Politics is a different game to war, and I’d bet my estate your master has never dipped her toes in politics, not truly. It’s the only explanation for her ambitious, yet somehow naive plan. Figure it out yourself, then tell me the answer when you get it right.”
“How will I know when I get it right?”
“You’ll know. You have the Force, don’t you? After you secure an outpost for the Techno Union, return to Sy Myrth,” with that, I cut the connection.
I wiped my mouth, straightening myself and taking a deep breath. Standing up and walking to the front of the pilothouse, I took the chance to finally make use of Repulse’s vast semisphere of a view wall to observe my new fleet. The White Hand now boasted twenty-one capital ships-an ever increasing number as my droids commandeered more and more half-built hulls from Metalorn’s planetside shipyards.
Their systems were untested, crews skeletal, and most didn’t even have functioning life support. But for all intents and purposes, they were functioning warships all the same, and they couldn’t fall into the hands of the enemy.
Repulse’s proximity sensor beeped in warning as the carrier-destroyer Queen of Beauty yawned overhead, giving me a splendorous view of the floral patterns gracing her underside. Deep green vines twisted into blooming roses and myrtles, criss-crossed by flocks of doves and sparrows in single file. The golden lights from her viewports twinkled like fireflies, bringing the whole illustration to life.
Artisan really came through this time, didn’t he? Besides that, I could hear Stelle chiding Queen of Beauty’s captain, TJ-912 for her dangerous piloting. With Tuff no longer an aide as much as subordinate commander, the staff assigned a handful more tactical droids to fill in the ranks. TJ-912 was the most… personable of them, to my pleasant surprise.
Her tactical merits were yet to be proven, though.
On the other side of the formation was Messenger in Flames, looming like a sea monster hiding in the depths. With her sister ships Queen of Beauty and Crying Sun already assigned captains, she remained the lone outlier-for now. Maybe I should give her to Tuff, as a reward for his service…
I picked up footsteps among the background hum of consoles and repeaters. Too fast and light to be a battle droid.
“What is it, Hare?”
“Atraken has surrendered to the Republic.”
“That’s… huh.”
What the fuck? They accepted?
“Did Tuff at least tell us who he surrendered to?”
“Anakin Skywalker,” Hare stared up at me.
“Well…” I rubbed my jaw, somewhat lost for words, “Anakin Skywalker accepts surrenders?”
Hare looked back down at her datapad, as if to confirm again, before whipping back up at me, “Why wouldn’t he?”
I don’t know… maybe because he tends to kill first, and talk later? Like Tuskens, Dookus, or y’know, children. I didn’t take him for the merciful type. I sent Barriss to Atraken in order to, one, get her the fuck away from me, and two, nudge her a bit further to our side. I sent Tuff with her to one, keep an eye on her, and two, force the Republic to play their hand. Which worked, evidently.
Not sure where the surrendering part comes in, though. Or Anakin Skywalker; I don’t know where he comes in either. Every simulation ARENA ran had the Open Circle Fleet coming through the Perlemian.
But I can improvise.
“Tell Horgo to abort his ambush,” I said, “He needs to hold his position at Vjun. Then… tell Tuff to send the girl back to us, and to move Unicorn Squadron to Ord Tiddell.”
I moved the pieces on my mental map, furiously searching memories from the war games to vaguely guess the Republic’s next move. A thought struck me, and I slowly craned my head to Messenger of Flames.
“Actually,” I caught myself, “Send Messenger with Stellar Squadron to Ord Tiddell as well. He’ll take command of the fleet.”
I turned my gaze back at the hyperspace egress, a familiar sensation of disquiet welling up in my stomach, one borne from a decade-long naval career. I swivelled on a heel, realising Hare still waiting for me in the process.
“Hurry,” I snapped, “Go.”
With confirmation that there wasn’t any other pertinent matter to address, Hare promptly complied and scampered off to relay my orders. In the meanwhile, I marched over to the nav droid and gently nudged him aside, commandeering his console for myself. After a swift mental reintroduction to the glaring tabs, I got to work fiddling with the keys to make the display calculate the ETA of a standard Republic taskgroup from Salvara.
The console spat a number out at me, and I plugged in ARENA’s datacard to compare the solutions.
“Did I do this right?” I called for a second opinion.
The nav droid stepped up, processors rumbling behind his dark eyes as he looked over the parameters and computation, and then nodded.
I patted his shoulder, before barking out, “Stelle, bring us to Yellow Alert. Standard Battle Order Five, and for God’s sake, get Stellar Squadron out of here.”
Even without a visible reason, Stelle obeyed wordlessly. I swept a look over the viewports, mentally filing away positions and potential vectors as the White Hand corralled itself into four orderly, elliptical squadrons. Without experienced commanders, the vast majority of the fleet had to be hooked onto a control network courtesy of four C3 Lucrehulks in the rear, which in turn were hooked onto Repulse’s upgraded network. I could dance a jig; bye bye commanding from the front! I could relax back here while the battle rages.
There were many merits to droid crews. One of them was they didn’t care where the CO was while they risked their lives.
Initiative and reaction time will be piss poor, but discipline and coordination will be well greater than anything the Republic could imitate.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Messenger in Flames circling around to another hyperlane egress. She, along with the rest of Stellar Squadron, will have to take the long way round to Ord Tiddell. Eucer Sector had gotten more dangerous as of late.
I pointed a finger gun at the egress, visualising the Republic fleet appearing right at the end of it.
I mimed a recoil, “Bang.”