Sublight Drive (Star Wars)

Chapter 46

Chapter 46

Nanth’ri Orbit, Nanth’ri System

Kurost Sector

“There’s one more trick Dooku has up his sleeve,” Calli said quietly as we turned into a disused engineering shaft.

“So serious,” I mumbled.

“I am serious,” she rebuked, “Dooku has a secret fleet operating out of deep space. Warships built by Kuat Drive Yards, at least a hundred of them, maybe twice as many. Enough firepower to subjugate entire worlds.”

I wizened up, “Built by KDY? I can believe Kuat building ships as long as they get paid, but how did they keep a fleet of one– two hundred warships secret?”

“Because they look like bulk freighters,” Calli paused as the maintenance shaft beeped, “Around a klick long, like A-class freighters on drive scopes. And up close... the gunports are concealed, and it's hard to differentiate durasteel armour from reinforced hulls. Other than that, nothing else is known about them.”

The elevator shaft opened up, and we stepped through after a cursory look around. Soon enough, we were rumbling down to the hangar bays.

“If they’re so secret, how did you find out?”

“They’re not very secret among our privateer friends,” was Calli’s answer, “On the Nanth’ri Route, every other ship could be a pirate raider, and they’d know if there's a new tradefleet operating on their turf. All it took was one pirate flotilla to attack this fleet, and never return, for them to know it’s trouble. They call it the Storm Fleet, because it comes and goes like one. Not long later, the Storm Fleet berthed at several neutral ports in the Nanth’ri Hook, and those neutral ports were suddenly Separatist-aligned. Most recently was Emberlene, and right after Emberlene went on a rampage across the Authala Sector, conquering at least a dozen worlds before taking their warfleet to Nanth’ri and beating the Republic back to Mimban.”

“I didn’t know you had privateer friends.”

“We had privateer friends,” Calli rolled her eyes, “The Confederacy didn’t hide its less than savoury allies. After the Militia Act, the Pantoran finally put her foot down. Letters of marque and reprisal were withdrawn, and the Office of the General disavowed all piracy based in Separatist space. ‘If you want to continue raiding Republic vessels, get yourself a commission in the Confederate Navy, and do it legally.’ And now Celis Mott, one of the most infamous pirates in this region, is Commander Celis Mott. I found out from him.”

“So I checked nearly every shipyard in the galaxy,” she continued, “Not many could build even a hundred warships simultaneously, in a timely manner, and even less can design star destroyers that look like bulk freighters. Few fit the bill. Kuat, Rendili, and Fondor. Corellia, Sluis Van, Lianna maybe. But only Kuat had an order for that many freighters, apparently for a shipping corporation that–and I checked–doesn’t actually exist.”

“Alright, you got me,” I said, “I’m going to assume the Storm Fleet is slave-rigged, or at least slaved by droids, because there’s no other way to keep a fleet of that size operating out of deep space. But that also means they can be compromised with ECM. First, though, we need to find out where they are. How recent was ‘recently’?”

“They’re in the south, where you’re headed,” Calli watched the deck numbers ticking down intently, “That’s the only reason I’m telling you. The Mistryl Shadow Guards of Emberlene can track it down, which is why we’re going to be hiring a team, who’ll rendezvous with you as soon as they have liberated Attahox. As for disabling the Storm Fleet, the Twenty-Eighth Mobile has enough Munificents to blackout a space station, given the right configurations.”

“Understood–” the lift grinded to a halt, and the doors slid open to reveal an obscure corner of the hangar bay, “–But I have to lift the Siege of Sullust first.”

Stepping out, the bustle of the hangar deck enveloped us. Droids, technicians, engineers, spacers, and even massive Vulture droids–that were much bigger than they seem–stomping across the bays. Invincible could deploy nearly five-hundred LACs at a moments notice, and to retain that operational efficiency required a colossal, constant effort.

Calli straightened her outfit and brushed a loose strand of hair out of her face, revealing the pale scar over her right eye–now almost pinkish under the flare of the hangar’s prismatic floodlights.

“You didn’t know.”

The words spilled out from my mouth before I even knew what I was saying.

She spun around to face me, scoffing, “How could I? Couldn’t you tell? Operation Starlance doesn’t exist. The Pantoran is telling us to dive feet first into Nine Hells, and didn’t offer a way out. We’re disposable. We were never meant to know–no one is. You heard Trench; not even our crews are to know, until it’s too late to turn back. They know how suicidal this plan is. And I still can’t see the point of it.”

For a moment, I struck with a sense of deja vu. I had been in her exact position once, hadn’t I? If there was one thing I learnt about Sev’rance Tann, it was that she considered promotions not as a reward for excellence, but as expectations of excellence. If she says you’re due for a promotion, expect an undertaking to convince her. If she says you’re promoted, expect an undertaking to prove you are worth the rank. The Battle of Teth felt like a lifetime ago.

And now Calli Trilm was learning the same thing I did.

I laughed.

Calli’s lips thinned–the only sign of incense on an admirably controlled expression–and she crossed her arms, “Think this is funny, do you?”

I smiled shallowly, “Back on the Wheel, I told you what I did. Serving the Pantoran is a fast-track to the Admiralty. But maybe I forgot to mention that she demands an equal worth of results. Did I ever say how I leaped ahead of you, back then?”

Calli Trilm was shorter than me, but in all the years we’ve known each other, I’ve never had to make a conscious effort to look her in the eye. The same way, I suppose, that you’d never have to look down to watch a lioness stalking you.

“Escort Asajj Ventress to Teth,” I continued without prompt, “Don’t ask any questions. Next thing I know, I was fighting an entire Republic battlegroup led by a Jedi Master. Turns out Ventress had kidnapped Jabba the Hutt’s only son. That’s the thing with the Pantoran; she is demanding, but reliably demanding, and reliably rewarding. She made you an admiral, now she’s telling us to earn our keep. None of that politicking stuff, you know well as I she’s a Hutt in fine dining when it comes to politics.”

“You don’t seem concerned at all,” Calli complained–she was too dignified to complain, but I could tell she was complaining– “Usually you’d be whining about how you’re in over your head at this point. Most of the time you’re awfully cautious, but this time you’re overly careless.”

I shrugged, “I can afford to be. The moment we enter enemy space, our closest known friendlies will be... only you and I. We won’t be able to communicate with the Confederacy anymore, only each other. Am I wrong for trusting you to watch my back?”

Her eyes widened, then narrowed, “Awful lot of trust given I betrayed you.”

It might have been my imagination, but I thought I saw a little colour come to her cheeks.

“You paid me back. I consider us even,” I grinned, Trench’s words echoing somewhere at the back of my mind, “Have I ever, ever, asked you outright to trust me?”

Calli’s shoulders lifted as she ran through every time we spoke–then dropped with a sigh, “Never.”

“And I won’t now,” I agreed, “Because I know you wouldn’t ask me to trust you. That’s the game, isn’t it? Since the start. So let’s only use that when it counts.”

It was when she turned her back on me, but made no movement to leave, that I knew I had her.

“So quick to leave,” I joked, “Am I so disappointing?”

Calli Trilm slowly turned around, a fire burning behind her eyes that wasn’t there before, in the meeting or otherwise. I barely had enough time to take a half-step back before she was already on me, snagging my cheek with thumb and index and yanking me down to her level.

“Stop screwing with me. I was vocal enough with my opinion of you that you should already know what I think,” she drily said, “I’m not as easy as that overgrown spider likes you to think.”

My grin only grew, tugging against the pain, “I still prefer my validation straight from the horse’s mouth.”

“Oh, you’ll get it,” she hissed, releasing me–only to shove me back against the elevator doors, and punching in the control panel.

Not a moment later I found myself locked in a kiss, trapped between cold steel and an enticingly warm body. My eyes closed out of instinct, a hand naturally finding her hip. For the briefest second I thought of pushing her way, as this was hardly the place... but after all that has happened, I couldn’t say returning to this brand of distraction wouldn’t be enjoyable. Not like there was ever going to be a better time.

The elevator doors opened behind me, and we made no effort to not tumble back into the carriage. A hard landing later, and when she withdrew I felt the full weight of her on me, sharpened gaze digging into my face.

“Now, really?” I gasped, “Somebody could be listening.”

“I wouldn’t have chosen this place if somebody was,” she looked amused, “I’m the one here who captains a Providence, not you. I think I know what I’m doing.”

In more ways than one wordlessly passed between us. The elevator doors slid shut, and the noise died. The deck panel remained untouched, forgotten, and without orders the cab was eerily silent. Suffocating. With a brisk tug, a storm of grey, radiation bleached hair fell around me, blocking out the rest of the world until it was only the two of us.

“Nobody’s listening,” Calli whispered.

“Sir?”

“Battle stations. I want the Fourth in portside echelon weighted towards the head and ranged two-hundred thousand klicks off Aurora’s starboard quarter,” I commanded, “Mirror the Third on our transverse plane at all times. If Alrix attacks, prioritise the safety of the Sixth above all else.”

“Understood.”

The 28th Mobile had been divided into seven subformations; the Third and Fourth were Battle Divisions, and the Sixth was Commander Jorm’s Auxiliary Division, flagged by Aurora II, a massive mothership that was large enough to fit the original fuel tanker Aurora in its spacious hangars. It really couldn’t be stressed enough that if Operation Starlance was to go ahead in any capacity, the 6th Auxiliary Division had to stay intact.

The Fleet proceeded on a vaguely orbital vector spinning prograde with Sullust’s star, skirting outside of the enemy’s operational perimeter. I had still half the mind to engage directly, if not for the confirmation that General Alrix had defeated a force over three times the size of her own before. Until I find out exactly how she did that, it was in my best interest to stay wary.

“I want the Third and Fourth Battle Divisions tracking their every move,” I told Tuff, “And get the Second Strike Division to create a picket line on our portside, just in case.”

I tracked our progress, the formations of the 28th Mobile Fleet unfolding out like the petals of a blooming flower. Battlecruiser Kronprinz taking point and leading her fellow Tionese warships at the point, like black sihouettes against the harsh solar flares–but from the Republic’s perspective, their chrome armour must be gleaming like newborn stars as they reflected unfiltered sunlight. To our rear, Vinoc led our Ringo Vindan and Metalornian battleships from his flagship Crying Sun. The brutal form of star dreadnought Olympus Mons lurked in the far rear, her bristling array of weaponry tracking the yet-stationary contacts of our foes.

They weren’t stationary for long.

“Enemy drive cones detected!” the sensor droid alarmed as the previously dead contacts on the tactical holo burst into life, the ever-distinctive drive profiles of Star Destroyers leaping into action.

“Should we enter battle stations, sir?” the tactical droid might as well be raising an eyebrow, if he had eyebrows.

“Alrix is sitting on a hyperlane egress,” I thought outloud, “If her intention is to intercept hostile forces, she will. If her intention is to blockade and besiege Sullust, however, then she cannot risk leaving the jumpzone. However, considering she had not yet engaged Ventress’ inferior flotilla, she must be prioritising the blockade over us. Her forces are alert, but have they left the jumpzone?”

“Enemy contacts are turning to face us,” Stelle reported, “We can assume they are fixing our velocities and are plotting vectors to intercept.”

“But if they were intent on intercepting us, they would have left the jumpzone already,” I finished, turning to Tuff, “What do you think?”

The tactical droid stared at the tactical holo, running through his calculations.

“A sound conclusion,” Tuff finally decided, “Refer to Battle Registry Log Two-Four-Three; First Battle of Christophsis. Alliance Directorate Fleet under Admiral Trench upheld standing orders to enforce blockade over Christophsis over engaging approaching Republic Taskforce. This was not the tactically preferable action, if not for strategic concerns relevant to the world in question.”

“You think General Alrix is in Admiral Trench’s position?”

“Affirmative.”

I leaned back, observing the contacts on the display. Tuff was right–they weren’t moving. There was a certain trick to blockading jumpzones. Since their primary objective was to intercept blockade runners, the most effective blockades were a layered defence, focusing on maximising angles of fire. A simple line abreast, while covering a much wider area, was too easily run since there was only one layer to overcome. Jumpzones were not a wide area. The end result was that a blockade looked like a haphazard strew of ships placed seemingly randomly–until you were trying to run the blockade and realise every ship somehow had an angle of attack on you.

On the flip side, that loose, spread-out formation made a terrible order of battle.

As long as the enemy fleet remained in that blockade formation, they weren’t going to attack.

That internal battle came back again. If they weren’t going to attack, why shouldn’t I? I could leave the Auxiliary Division with a rearguard and take two-hundred warships and crush them right here and now. Unfortunately, General Ambigene was strict on the matter; no offensive actions until the Supreme Commander gives the go ahead.

“Very well,” I waved away the tactical holo, “Continue at speed.”

There was a window in the couple hour transit in which the Republic could still attempt to intercept, but General Alrix was seemingly content to sit and watch. So that’s what happened; two fleets with all scopes and sensors and weapon arrays aimed and primed at each other, but nobody made the first move. My own hands were bound by, well, larger strategic concerns as Tuff would put it, but I wonder what Rees Alrix’s hands were bound by.

I don’t believe she’s the type to follow orders in the face of prime opportunity. To pull something off like the Hundred Days Offensive... opportunity for offence was everything to be seized. I slumped in my chair.

Which can only mean one thing. She believes she can still defeat me. Which means she knows something I don’t. Reinforcements are already enroute, most likely.

“We have confirmation from the central database,” Tuff reached forward to tap the display in front of me, “Taskforce Conciliator, flagged by star cruiser Resilient, Venator-class.”

“Anything on the Resilient in particular?”

“It’s the personal flagship of Republic Admiral Cede Wieler,” Tuff said, “Except Admiral Wieler was reported killed in action at the Battle of Medth, at the hands of Commander Asajj Ventress.”

“Resilient indeed,” I muttered, “Get me a detailed report of everything we know about them, down to the fuel reserves if we can.”

“By your command.”

“Can we reach Ventress now?”

By now we were directly perpendicular to Taskforce Conciliator’s position, relative to the hyperlane egress. The window for interception was quickly closing, and the enemy still wasn’t moving.

“Patching a line to star dreadnought Dark Rival,” Stelle announced, finger hovering over her console as she glanced for confirmation,

I nodded, stood up, and cleared my throat. The last time I spoke to Ventress was at Teth, at which I was glad to see her leave soon after on that junker following the dicey skirmish over the planet. This time, however, our positions were flipped. Somewhere within me, I wondered what she had been doing the entire time? Surely Dooku’s personal assassin has more ‘important’ things to do other than lead a failing defence of the Rimma Trade Route?

A hologram fizzled into view before me, and as it coalesced so did the pale, bald form of Asajj Ventress. Her slitted eyes were as menacing as ever, and with the hems of her hooded cloak and black dress ebbing at her feet–at the edge of the holoprojector’s frame–she was as very much a malevolent wraith as I last remembered.

“Bonteri,” she hissed, “I hate to say it, but you are a welcome presence.”

I stared at her blankly, “At least use the rank, Commander.”

“...Fine. Rear Admiral.”

I beamed, “Submit a report on the integrity and battleworthiness of all your vessels as soon as able, Commander. We’ll work from there.”

“Report?” Ventress nearly snarled, “With your forces here, we can overwhelm and crush that Alrix!”

I raised two fists, miming invisible handcuffs as I tried to pull them apart, “My hands are tied, I’m afraid. There will be no attacking anyone until the Supreme Commander gives the go-ahead. I will be transmitting some files I’d advise you to glance over. Is Dark Rival your fleet’s flagship?”

“Our command centre is aboard the Chakdrukke.”

I leaned away, whispering to Tuff, “Which one is that?”

“The Inexpugnable-class battleship, sir.”

“Never heard of that class,” I mumbled before quickly returning my attention to Ventress, “Very well, I’ll see you aboard.”

She was still staring daggers at me when I closed the connection.

Rubbing my cheek, I stood up and snatched the purple cape off the backrest, “Prep a shuttle, and tell Jorm to start repairing Ventress’ ships.”