Sublight Drive (Star Wars)

Rear Admiral Calli Trilm could not care one mote about the fate of Rendili. Empress Teta’s secession attempt has emboldened the more brazen planetary governments to defect to the Separatist Alliance, for a whole multitude of reasons. Some, simply put, may believe the Republic to be losing the war, with so many Separatist fleets rampaging through the Core as it was. Others, perhaps, had always had Separatist loyalties, but were never able to act on them due to their proximity to Coruscant.

Or some, like Rendili, simply feel unrecognised by the Republic Senate, and neglected in favour of their competitors… From that perspective, the Confederacy had every reason to secure Rendili’s loyalty; after all, the government’s Rendili StarDrive was one of the Kuat Drive Yard’s few competitors in the field of military engineering, possessing a rich shipbuilding tradition that the relatively young Confederate shipyard industry desperately needed.

Alas, it was not Calli Trilm’s mission to defend Rendili from the consequences of their own ill-conceived rebellion. Maybe the Independent Provisional Government expected more systems to fall into lockstep with them, but that had failed to be the case. Admiral Honor Salima’s counter-campaign in the Galactic Interior has made certain of that, and Calli Trilm theorised that the myriad worlds teetering on the fence between Loyalism and Separatism were all patiently observing the outcome of the now-inevitable battle to decide which side they fall towards.

Rather, it was her mission to steal away with the Bulwark Fleet back into the safety of Separatist space. She had run havoc throughout the Arrowhead in search of the dastardly old Sullustan already, and she was in no mood to sightsee even more of the same old Core systems. So long as she makes away with the lives of Dua Ningo and herself, she could care less how the Republic decides Rendili’s fate.

Unfortunately, the Republic would not so easily allow her to escape. Even now, Obi-Wan Kenobi, whom she had given the slip twice now, was bivouacked at Exodeen blocking their south; and the Coruscant Home Fleet, which had snowballed in size with every star system they visited to some three-hundred ships, now stood over the corpses of Calli’s auxiliaries at Recopia to their north. Over half-a-thousand warships in total, and neither were likely to be so accommodating to her sudden departure.

Even with the remnants of the Bulwark Fleet, Calli still only commanded half that number.

Except, the Rendili Home Defence Fleet commanded two-hundred. Too powerful, too politically important for Coruscant to wrest away, the Rendili Defence Fleet was virtually untouched by the war, and her vessels were state-of-the-art and in perfectly mint condition. The perfect force equaliser; if Calli could convince them to help her escape–and leave their home vulnerable to Republic retribution in the process.

“The Provisional Government insists all we must do is repulse the Republic attack,” Captain Jace Dallin, the Commanding Officer of the Rendili Defence Fleet, told her sternly, “And it will be enough to turn the sentiments in the region. Samaria, Sedratis, Rehemsa–they will all follow in Rendili’s footsteps.”

“You do not speak with much conviction,” Rear Admiral Trilm replied, and rightly so.

Jace Dallin was a man whose character left no larger an impression upon her mind than which her boot would make on the pavement. He stood with the stiff countenance of any other career military man, with a stiff upper lip and slicked back hair, and a fade scar that ran down the entirety of his left face, from the forehead to the chin. His utter insipidity aside, Jace Dallin was, for a man of such high rank, surprisingly conflicted.

He was a Loyalist, through and through, despite serving the now Separatist Rendili government, and had made his name in the Stark Hyperspace War. A veteran soldier, he fought for the Eriaduan ORSF, then the Republic Judicial Forces, before finally settling back onto his homeworld of Rendili and swifty rising to supreme commander of the RHDF. For the Independent Provisional Government to reaffirm his position as head of their armed forces, rather than murdering him in their ongoing political purge, was another reason for Calli to doubt the reliability of this so-called Separatist government.

“Nor do you,” Captain Dallin retorted, “For the woman who outwitted the famed Obi-Wan Kenobi twice, I fail to sense any confidence in victory from you. Is running away all you know how to do?”

Calli laughed out loud, “You also fail to realise that the definition of ‘victory’ depends on the circumstances. If running away is the definition of ‘defeat’, then I will gladly suffer a thousand defeats to avoid being defeated. The Confederacy seeks not victories, Captain, only victory. In this, all true Separatists understand, and will bring that understanding to their grave if they must. No price is too high to pay for the freedom of the Rim, and no sacrifice too great.”

“...Rendili does not intend to be sacrificed,” Jace Dallin clenched his jaw, the grinding of his teeth barely audible.

“Nor will it, if your ministers had any sense,” for the first time, the diminutive Admiral Dua Ningo spoke, his voice gravelly and touched with age and accent, “Surely the Provisional Government had secured assurances from the Confederacy before deciding to secede?”

Comparative to Jace Dallin, Calli Trilm had no impression of Dua Ningo to speak of. She hadn’t a favourable opinion of him nevertheless, for the man was the source of much grief to her, albeit unknowingly. Nor did she know if he were to be a boon or bane in the upcoming engagement. The old Sullustan was a bit of an enigma in that regard, for he had been missing for the most of the war. He had nonetheless managed to stay always one step ahead of the Home Fleet for months, which spoke well of his capability, but it was also true he had been isolated and acting alone for the most part in that time.

Now that she had to work with him, cooperation would be an entirely different beast, further exacerbated by the technicality that he actually outranked her, being a full fleet admiral. On the other hand, she was the ranking officer of twice his numbers, all of whom are deathly loyal to her alone. Calli Trilm did not seek friction, but she would not put her command in the hands of a man of which she was an utter stranger to.

“I am not privileged to that information,” the Rendili Captain answered Dua Ningo softly, “All I know is that my government acts on the word of Count Dooku himself.”

“Then is that not enough insurance to act?” the Sullustan Admiral inquired honestly, “Rendili’s planetary shields are second to none in this region of space. Skako held out for over a year, and the Neimoidian purseworlds have yet to fall.”

And that was the other matter occupying Calli’s mind. She had refrained from enlightening Admiral Ningo of the current state of the Confederacy, partially because she feared her knowledge may be months out of date, and partially because she knew not where the Sullustan’s loyalties would lie. Would he support the legitimate government and military authority on Raxus Secundus, or would he support his old acquaintance and ally Count Dooku on Serenno?

Calli Trilm would prod him, prod and poke, until she had ascertained his allegiances. And should she find them disagreeable, she will turn her flagship’s guns on his head without hesitation, for her orders were not to bring back another belligerent against the Raxus Government, but the Bulwark Fleet itself.

“Will the Confederacy win within the year?” Captain Dallin demanded, “Even as we speak the Sector Armadas of the Republic Navy return to the Core.”

“The Confederacy won’t need to, if Rendili can convince her neighbours to join her,” Calli decided to circle back to Dallin’s initial point, “You were not incorrect when you said Rendili’s best chance at survival is to draw more systems to secede.”

Jace Dallin narrowed his eyes at her capriciousness, “I told you; that can only happen if–”

“We defeat the Republic here,” Admiral Dua Ningo finished, “That is not impossible.”

“The moment we make to move, the Bloodhound will surely jump to intercept us,” Calli agreed, “If your fleet supports us, we have every reason to believe we can prevail.”

“We will be fighting an offensive battle with fewer ships!” Captain Dallin appealed strongly, “We should instead prepare the battlespace around Rendili, in range of her ground-to-orbit batteries!”

“The only reason the Home Fleet has not attacked yet is precisely because of the number disparity!” Calli rebuked, none too kindly, “We have five-hundred, they six-hundred. With Rendili’s artillery, even Honor Salima and Obi-Wan Kenobi have reason to remain cautious about their chances. But as you yourself stated; reinforcements from the front are approaching with every passing day, bolstering their numbers. At the beginning of the campaign, the Home Fleet had what, two-hundred ships? Now they have three. It is not the Republic without time, it is us.”

Jace Dallin clenched his fists, but nodded in concession, even if he was none too pleased about the admission, “What do you suggest, then?”

“My staff tells me it is a three day transit from Empress Teta to Rendili, at the most direct possible transit,” Calli Trilm told her audience, “I summoned for reinforcements a day ago. Therefore, in two days we will break for Manaan. It is an out of the way system on the border of the Mid Rim, largely forfeited by Republic authorities and devoid of any GAR presence, from which we can escape to Separatist space on the Ootmian Pabol.”

“Empress Teta?” Captain Jace Dallin immediately latched onto the name, “Reinforcements from Empress Teta are coming? You are absolutely certain?”

“I am,” Calli confirmed with more confidence than she felt, but she needed something to push the man over the edge. She needed his two-hundred warships, “And if all goes well, we will time our breakout at precisely the moment they arrive.”

⁂

Exodeen Orbit, Exodeen System

Quellor Sector

“It would appear the Perlemian Coalition is preparing to depart, Admiral,” Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi informed his holographic ally, who thus crossed her arms in thought, “My scoutships report she has begun the rapid disassembly of her remaining auxiliaries and other slower support ships.”

“She is not even taking the time to catch her breath,” Admiral Honor murmured, “I expected her to at least confirm the situation in the Confederacy before jumping. I am afraid General Plo Koon may not make it in time. We must jump immediately if we hope to catch Calli Trilm before she leaves.”

Obi-Wan was inclined to agree. Taking into account the distances involved, it was a day’s transit from Exodeen to Rendili, and not any sooner, for his ships were not Anakin’s. With ample use of probe droids and scoutships, they had hoped to catch Calli Trilm directly as she was transiting to the Rendili hyperlimit–where the planet’s gravity well no longer posed a direct danger to hyperspace insertion and well out of range of the planetside guns. They knew–roughly–the direction in which she would insert, as the Home Fleet and Open Circle Fleet hemmed in her north and south respectively, and the Deep Core the west.

Their strategy was to jump into deep space no more than a parsec outside the Rendili Star System’s termination shock, then microjump directly on top of the Perlemian Coalition just as Calli Trilm reached the jumpzone, pincering her fleet north and south. There was nothing in the strategy that required Master Plo Koon’s presence, merely that his additional hundred vessels and wealth of experience would command the battlefield with simply that much more ease.

The reason they had refrained from jumping to their specified stations near the Rendili System was simply because they had no reason to alert Calli Trilm of their plan any earlier than they had to. But if she was about to depart already, then there could be no later than this to execute the strategy.

“I would have preferred to update General Plo on our course of action,” Obi-Wan groused with no real heat, “But as it stands, we must hope he is able to adapt quickly when he extracts.”

Admiral Honor tilted her head in concurrence, “A shame that the timing must be so tight–”

“–General,” Commander Cody briskly stepped into frame, drawing the Admiral’s attention from the other side, “We’re receiving a transmission.”

“From whom?” Obi-Wan asked sharply, well aware of Admiral Honor’s silent observance, “Is it urgent?”

“From General Plo Koon, sir,” there was no hesitation in the Clone Commander’s cadence, but Obi-Wan knew his friend and comrade well enough to discern the unsurety in his tone nonetheless.

After all, it was impossible to send and receive transmissions while in hyperspace transit. Which meant this transmission was from somebody posing as Plo Koon, or Plo Koon had already extracted somewhere.

“Put it through, c-Commander!” Admiral Honor snapped through the hologram, barely refraining from saying ‘clone’ in his presence. Commander Cody barely had to wait for Obi-Wan’s gesture to dash away.

A moment’s pause later, and the familiar form of the old Kel-Dor had joined them at the holotable.

“I have extracted at Leria Kerlsil,” Jedi General Plo Koon inserted immediately, before either Obi-Wan or Honor could even eke out a word, “There has been a complication to whatever plan you may have devised.”

“Leria–” Honor started severely nonetheless, “Leria Kerlsil is still halfway between Empress Teta and Rendili!”

You better have a good reason for wasting valuable hours in realspace when you could still be transiting! Was what Honor Salima left unsaid.

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“An astute observation, Admiral,” Master Plo Koon allowed, like a father to a daughter, “But I feared that if I had not taken the time to warn you, the battle might have been lost before it even began. You may discard whichever strategy you may have had in mind, as at this moment the Battle Hydra approaches Rendili.”

“The Hydra?” Obi-Wan brushed his beard worriedly, “I was led to believe you had kicked him out of Empress Teta.”

“I had,” the Kel-Dor Master replied with a rising lilt, “And this was the direction he had fled in. I can only suspect the two Perlemian fleets still have a line of communication with each other–”

“–And Calli Trilm had summoned Rain Bonteri to aid her,” Admiral Honor Salima finished, and she sounded utterly exasperated, “Really, I’d like to personally ask the devil whether he’s making room for the Separatists or for us.”

With this revelation in mind, it was obvious why Plo Koon had decided to delay his arrival to warn them. If the Battle Hydra, in all of this tactical superiority, had managed to blindside their carefully timed interception… the result would have been disastrous. On the other hand, it now meant Task Force Hyperion will be delayed by several hours, leaving the Home Fleet and Open Circle Fleet alone to fight a now numerically superior enemy.

“We must devise a new strategy immediately,” General Plo Koon advised, “As I must be ready to play my part the moment I extract, and every minute I linger in Leria Kerlsil is another minute I won’t be present on the battlefield at all.”

“...Very well,” Honor Salima blew out a forceful breath, before marshalling her features into an imperious countenance, “General Kenobi, how do you think you will fair outnumbered three-to-five?”

“...For how long?” Obi-Wan replied tentatively.

“For however long it takes for General Plo Koon to arrive,” there was a dark twinkle in the Bloodhound’s eye.

⁂

Rendili Approach, Rendili System

As the combined Separatist fleet approached the jumpzone and selected battlespace, their collective nervousness intensified. Even Calli Trilm, chill as she may try, couldn’t prevent her nerves from becoming a jumbled mess. The vacuum itself seemed taught with energy, and everywhere frantic eyes darted to the stars, misidentifying every twinkle as a flash of pseudomotion.

But the Cronau radiation sensors remained quiet. Those sensor operators employed at their stations were acutely aware of their monumental responsibility. Their reaction time could mean life or death for not only themselves and everybody aboard their respective vessels, but the entire fleet itself. This awareness alone fueled their stress, faces pale and stern and glued onto their displays. If one would look under the control panels, however, one would see hundreds of wringing hands venting their anxiety.

The 19th Mobile Fleet had been the bloody scourge of the Core Worlds for two months, and now it was time to go home. The enemy was the last thing between them and that.

The combined fleet of five-hundred ships had been arranged into a sharpened arrowhead. Rendili Victory-class Star Destroyers took the vanguard, backed by a solid mass of Providence-class and Dreadnaught-class heavy cruisers to supply the proper impetus necessary to overwhelm the enemy line of battle. On the wings, Dua Ningo and his captains commanded the Bulwark-class battlecruisers, providing ample a solid wall against any potential flanking manoeuvres undertaken by their numerically superior opponent.

In the centre of the formation were two Lucrehulk-class carriers and a host of support vessels, such as Captor-class heavy munitions cruisers, their reinforced holds filled to the brim with everything they could salvage from the dismantled auxiliary deepdocks that once serviced the 19th Mobile Fleet. At the most rear was stationed the fleet’s Munificent-class frigates, while screening ahead of the main body were Recusant-class destroyers among other smaller escorts.

They were travelling at best speed, limited by the slowest ship in the fleet. Even then, it was a blazingly high velocity, and they would cross the hyperlimit within ten minutes. Not that anybody in the combined fleet expected to, whether it be Rel Harsol or Jace Dallin. They were all veterans, and as such were under no illusions of optimism; the boot of the Republic would fall, and they were waiting for it. As they approached, the minutes started to drag on like hours, every man and woman agonisingly counting down the ticks.

And it was five minutes from the hyperlimit when the boot finally came down.

“Cronau radiation detected!” the operators all but screamed, releasing hours of pent up anxiety in a single blow.

“Same over here!” another cried, shuffling the spectrums, “Three-hundred ships to our starboard bow, bearing oh-three-nine degrees relative! Checking registry… it’s the Open Circle Fleet!”

“Another three-hundred on our port bow, bearing three-oh-five degrees relative!”

“It’s the Home Fleet!” a Skakoan on Dua Ningo’s flagship, Unrepentant, shivered, his modulated voice tinged with apprehension, “It’s the Bloodhound!”

Data flooded onto the screens of the flagships, and met with different expressions. Dua Ningo set his jaw in cold determination, Calli Trilm slowly pushed herself out of her seat, and Jace Dallin quietly sighed. So the die is cast.

Just across the hyperlimit, three-hundred warships of the Open Circle Fleet were travelling line ahead, just about to cross the combined Separatist fleet’s ‘T’. The adjustment from the original strategy was immediately noticeable–the Open Circle Fleet intended to cross the bow of the Separatists, three-hundred against five-hundred, and engage them directly.

“These people just want to go home,” Jedi General Olge Plavi-Dol sighed, the rampant emotions emanating from the enemy fleet reaching her. As a healer by trade, she was more sensitive to these energies than most other Jedi. It made her a poor warrior and even poorer commander, but they all have their duties, and she tried not to let it affect her.

After all, it would be a poor time to lose her nerves. The Obi-Wan Kenobi had assigned her to the vanguard of the Open Circle Fleet, and her flagship Convivial personally led the Republic wall of battle, giving her a chance to avenge her defeat at Commenor. The line was stretched far more than typical of a battle order like this, with each ship in the line slightly offset to avoid collision in the case one loses power.

Master Kenobi had assured her that Convivial wouldn’t be on the receiving end of any Separatist missiles, despite being the vanguard, but despite lacking the experience or knowledge to refute such a claim, a small part within Olge still doubted the Jedi Master. After all, this was a battle–how could any ship escape from being shot at?

She breathed out, steeling herself as she ran through the strategy again. Behind her, at the centre of the line, was the Defender, the temporary flagship of Admiral Block. Lastly, at the very end of the line and singularly remarkable for her completely unconventional placement, was the fleet flagship of General Obi-Wan Kenobi, Vigilance.

All three flagships were Venator-class Star Destroyers.

With the way they had matched velocity with enemy fleet, the Separatists would collide with the Open Circle’s wall of battle directly in the centre, where Admiral Block had been stationed. This is what General Kenobi expected them to do, as the ultimate goal of Calli Trilm was to escape past the hyperlimit and jump. Going through the centre of the Republic line was the most expedient way to accomplish that objective.

However, as Admiral Block engages the Separatist mass, the front and rear under Olge and Kenobi respectively would strike around and flank the enemy, effectively encompassing the larger force with a smaller one. The single catch–Defender and the Open Circle’s centre had to fight tooth and nail against a force nearly five times their superior, long enough for the Jedi to come around. Otherwise, the whole formation might be breached.

And the Separatists must know that too.

Olge watched the plot, and she watched the enemy formation continue at speed without changing–which meant that as predicted, they intended to crash straight through the Open Circle in its centre. She did not envy Admiral Block in this situation.

Meanwhile, as the distance between the Republic and Separatist forces was quickly reduced, pins speckled the plots aboard the Separatist fleet flagship Star of Serenno. From the vantage point of the Providence\'s bridge, clusters of luminous points indicated the unceasing approach of the combined Separatist fleet towards the midsection of a long, horizontal stretch of Republic vessels.

On the final approach, however, Calli Trilm reconsidered attacking the centre. Attacking the Republic right was out of the question; doing so would allow Kenobi to wrap around the Separatist right, while the Home Fleet punches into their vulnerable left. Attacking the Republic left would achieve similar results, with the Republic right doubling back to attack the Separatist left–but the key difference would be that it would negate the Home Fleet’s tactical position, as they were already stationed to their left.

This would result in the doubling of pressure on their port flank, but in exchange for relieving all pressure on their starboard. Furthermore, should Rain Bonteri’s 28th Mobile Fleet arrive, they would be directly poised to strike the Home Fleet’s rear–effectively counterpincering the enemy.

On the other hand… Calli squinted at her tactical holo. The Home Fleet wasn’t moving. They were completely stationary, save for some small drive cones which she surmised to be screening vessels, and apparently content to observe how their combined fleet cracks open the Open Circle’s spine.

Calli Trilm was aware of the rivalry between the Republic Admiralty and the Jedi Order… but would it really culminate to this extent?

There was no time to dwell on the issue–the Rendili Victorys had already opened the battle with the devastating volley of concussion missiles. Rear Admiral Trilm, at the last minute, decided to execute her hastily conceived plan, and ordered the combined fleet to decelerate by several gravities–in order to allow the enemy line of battle to slip further to her left, shifting the point of interception nearer to Kenobi’s flagship.

Thankfully, both Jace Dallin and Dua Ningo had conceded ultimate command of the combined fleet to her, and all three separate entities–the 19th Mobile, Bulwark Fleet, and Rendili Defence Fleet–responded as well as they could.

Upon receiving Rendili fire, Admiral Block responded by opening up his broadsides, cold blue fire erupting from their bores. At the same time, General Olge Plavi-Dol was already deflecting her vanguard portside in order to put the Separatists downrange of her guns, and light fire erupted across the Separatist left.

Aboard Vigilance, Obi-Wan Kenobi was seeing the least of the action, and thus occupied himself with overseeing the tactical situation. The Separatist fleet was slowing down–and this time he realised what Calli Trilm was up to in time. An order was carried from Vigilance to Defender across the tightbeam burst–

And the Defender struck hard to portside simultaneously with at least a hundred fellow warships of the line, now directly facing the Separatist formation and doubling their volume of fire. They burned retro at the same time, traversing backwards and attempting to close the velocity differential between themselves and the Separatist formation in order to maintain that relative distance for as long as possible. The Rendili captains of the Separatist vanguard, upon seeing this, reacted promptly and, against standing orders, diverted all power to their thrusters.

It was not an incorrect decision, as allowing the Open Circle to match velocity with them went against their objective of breaching the enemy lines, but for Calli Trilm who was considering the larger strategic situation, it was the incorrect decision at that moment. The speartip of Victorys raced forward, forcing the main body of the combined Separatist fleet to hasten in order to preserve the structural integrity of their formation. This, just as Obi-Wan Kenobi had hoped, effectively killed Calli Trilm’s new plan.

Rather than grieving on the loss, however, Rear Admiral Trilm simply shrugged and belayed whatever intentions she had in mind to resume the original strategy. Ordering the fleet full forward, the Separatists fearlessly thundered into the awaiting arms of the Open Circle’s line of battle.

Now visibly curved inwards, both Jedi Generals of the Open Circle were effectively poised to pounce at the Separatist flanks. From above, it would appear as if the Separatist fleet were an iron fist striking–and thus being enveloped by a silk handkerchief.

Just as the Jedi had planned, the Separatists were surrounded. And if they didn’t break through Admiral Block’s centre soon, their fate was to be ground down into stardust.

⁂

A few millions klicks north, the Home Fleet was patiently waiting for their own battle to arrive, as devised by Admiral Honor Salima’s new strategy. While they waited for their minelayers to arrange an interdiction minefield north of their tentative formation, Admiral Honor was observing the progress of the battle from the tactical holo of her flagship Arlionne. Her flag captain, Terrinald Screed, broke the silence with a voice of grudging admiration.

“I’m surprised the Open Circle is being forced back to this extent,” he said, “And I’m even more surprised the Separatists are willing to dive headfirst into an envelopment like this. The Separatists have their fair share of courageous spacers, don’t they? I envy their captains, considering what we’ve got…”

Captain Screed muttered the last part under his breath. On the holo, the ‘U’ shape space between the Republic and Separatist lines had been consumed by a bright inferno of high-density tibanna bolts and shrieking missiles and torpedoes from every side. The Open Circle, fueled in part by clone efficiency and in part by a burning desire to avenge the pain the Core had suffered under constant Separatist raids, were laying into Calli Trilm’s fleet with everything they had.

However…

“The Separatists are more maniacal than courageous,” Admiral Honor coolly corrected, “Our Republic spacers may be fueled by vengeance, or a burning desire to see justice through… but the Separatists–those in the Bulwark and Perlemian fleets at least–are fueled by something much more potent. Desperation.”

Besides, despite how it may appear, Admiral Block was admirably conserving his strength and skillfully maintaining his lines of bearing despite the overwhelming pressure put against him. Unfortunately, his retrothrusters would never be as powerful as the forward drives of the Separatist fleet, and sooner or later Calli Trilm would break through. Nevertheless, he was executing the part assigned to him perfectly–it was the Jedi’s part to carve into Trilm’s sides before such a development could occur.

The Home Fleet’s part, on the other hand…

“Cronau radiation detected!” Captain Jan Dodonna forwarded a report from his sentries.

“Home Fleet!” Honor Salima commanded imperiously, “Prepare to engage the enemy!”

The lines of pseudomotion came straight at them like a spear of light, spitting out radiation in every direction as it stretched on for light-seconds–until the interdiction mines detonated. Artificial gravity wells imploded across the void, violently ripping out everything from the realm of hyperspace and in between, and the empty patch of space was abruptly filled with just under two-hundred Separatist warships.

Terrinald Screed observed a burning, fin-shaped wreck floating across Arlionne’s viewports.

“A Wavecrest-class frigate,” he commented, “So it was the Givin who enabled them to traverse the Deep Core, after all.”

The rest of the Perlemian Coalition’s Armada were in no better condition, as the interdiction mines had cracked upon many hulls and shells, and there were more than a few fires raging across the Separatist fleet. Besides that, many spacers must be suffering from extraction sickness as well.

And last but not least, there was the fact that the two-hundred ships of the Battle Hydra had been torn out of transit right in the centre of a three-hundred ship formation of the prepared and waiting Coruscant Home Fleet.

“Captain Dodonna,” Admiral Honor called out, “Are all of the Hydra’s heads accounted for?”

“Positive, Admiral,” he replied, “All the enemy vessels detailed in the fleet composition General Plo Koon had provided us are accounted for.”

“Very well,” she paused, “Actually, this is perfect.”

“Home Fleet,” the Bloodhound allowed herself a smile with all teeth, “Local control. You may open fire.”