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Chapter 29

Diedrich Greyshade had made an oath of duty, to serve Columex, and the greater Commonality, to the best of his ability. Simon Greyshade, on the other hand, swore no oaths other than to himself, in his relentless pursuit of personal power.

That said, Diedrich had never considered them to be at odds. He, however, was under no illusions. The only reason Simon Greyshade does not cross the Commonality for his own gain is because his own influence is a direct causation of the confederation’s. Until the day comes when the Commonality no longer bears the justification to exist, Simon will always be loyal to its cause.

Which was why, Diedrich reflected, I helped cover the death of our cousin for him.

A black stain on both their careers, if it were to be found out. Simon’s predecessor in the Galactic Senate was their elder cousin, Jheramahd. The old man was slipping up too blatantly–his grip loosening on the Commonality’s exclusive rights in exchange for his personal ambitions. There was nothing that wasn’t expected of a politician, but the line has always been drawn where the Commonality was concerned.

Simon believed that the moment Jheramahd attempted to compromise the confederation, his position was forfeit. Arrange an accident, and enter the newly vacated office as a bereaved relative. Simple as that. Diedrich only found out after the fact, but managed to leverage his own influence to help avoid a scandal. Some suspicions were raised, but nothing too untoward.

Why wasn’t he informed beforehand? Well, Diedrich knew how his cousin operated. Simon will always manage to install his victims into an untenable position with only non-decision presented to them. Had Diedrich been informed beforehand, he would have prevented the incident in the first place–but he wasn’t. And thus, Diedrich had two options in the wake of Jheramahd’s death; to out Simon and cripple the Commonality’s representation in the Galactic Senate, or help Simon cover the incident up.

That wasn’t much of a choice. Besides, Simon would say, Jheramahd had betrayed the Commonality.

Diedrich was under no illusions. He was a convenient pawn in Simon’s games–but so long as their aims were parallel, he had no qualms acting so.

What had occurred to the Coalition Armada at Centares was much the same scheme. No, reinforcements would not be coming, but you’d only find out after the battle. If the Coalition had been informed beforehand, the JDF’s purposeful inaction would have been outed, instead of hushed down as it currently was to prevent mutiny. The Coalition’s top brass was then presented with a non-decision; rightfully abandon the JDF to its fate, or grit their teeth and continue working with them.

That wasn’t much of a choice. Besides, Simon would say, you need the Commonality’s warships and politicians.

But that left Diedrich with a most pertinent question; why did the JDF not act?

It was not a matter of strategic debate. Auril and Belderone were very well justified in their stance to avoid a lost battle. The Loyalists’ supply chain was at the breaking point, courtesy of the Coalition. All the Coalition had to do was keep retreating and allow the enemy to crumble under its own weight.

This matter was, regretfully, a political one. The Coalition’s top brass had ultimately backed themselves into a corner of their own making. Their very mission statement was to protect their member worlds at any cost, and to retreat from Centares without putting up a fight would be a tacit rescindment of that ideal.

The JDF was a democracy. Each sector military had an equal number of votes, and any decision concerning the whole structure must first be confirmed by a simple majority.

Vorzyd Sector should have voted with Meridian and Antemeridian. Should have. As the forefront commander of Columex’s planetary fleet, his word should have been enough to sway the scales. Embarrassingly, however, Vorzyd Sector’s vote was split between Columex System and Vorzyd System, voting aye and nay respectively.

Vorzyd V’s officers voted against Columex on the grounds that the Commonality’s security was the priority over Centares’, especially since Vorzyd V itself was being encircled by the Blazing Claw Fleet. But Diedrich knew better. Despite the sector being eponymously named after them, Vorzyd bowed to the will of Columex. Usually.

He saw the fingerprints, clear as day.

Diedrich cradled his cup of tea, lightly sipping.

“You’ve put us in a terrible spot, Simon,” he wetted his lips, “The JDF’s credibility is in the gutter, and I’ve half the mind to put you in one too.”

“Let’s not be so hasty,” Simon raised his hands up in surrender, a wry smile on his face, “A goal has been accomplished. After their losses, we now outnumber the Coalition nearly two-to-one in warships. They need us more than we need them.”

“You’re a God-damned fool,” Diedrich scathed, “Do you not realise we stand in the exact place Euceron did? And look what happened to them! The greatest threat the JDF fought in the past century was a self-proclaimed pirate lord– you’re seeing numbers on a page and thinking bigger is better. That’s not how war works, Simon!”

“Yes, yes,” the Senator placated, “The situation has changed. We will cooperate with the Coalition without argument. I’ll leave it to you, Diedrich.”

Diedrich slammed his fist down, fingers still curled around the handle of the teacup. Twisted satisfaction filled him as Simon flinched at the shards of porcelain shattering across the table and flying through his holographic person.

“That’s not enough,” he snarled, “If you believe I will keep covering your back, you are sorely mistaken. Let me spell this out clearly for you–your existence is no longer necessary. The Republic is now our enemy, and the Commonality has all the representation it needs in the Separatist Parliament. You can go missing in three days and everyone will suspect Republic Intelligence. Do not test me.”

For the first time in Diedrich’s memory, Simon Greyshade’s smug smile cracked. The realisation finally dawned on his eyes, that through all of his scheming and deceit, he had forgotten that he was also yet another piece on the Commonality’s dejarik table.

Simon Greyshade had influence; influence that the Commonality had vested into his personage to represent their interests in the Senate. The moment the Commonality tendered the Articles of Secession, most of that influence was cosmic dust.

Diedrich Greyshade had the power behind that influence. He was the head of the largest sector defence fleet on the Perlemian, that greased the wheels of trade and transformed the Columex into the shining star of the Outer Rim.

Simon chased his ambitions so far and so hard that he had left the very foundations that made him invaluable, and only now was he realising influence was intangible, and power was not.

“...It doesn’t matter now,” Simon slowly slouched, “Not with Dooku being–”

“So it was Dooku,” he snapped, “What did he want from you?”

Dooku being a Republic spy? Unbelievable. The idea was preposterous, had he not seen undeniable proof of the fact. It would be one thing if this was the personal project of a single officer–the information was uncorroborated, and quite honestly, suspect in origin. But if this project was undertaken with the sanction of General Sev’rance Tann’s intelligence quarter?

Diedrich had considered as many possibilities as he could. General Tann was surely not the only individual investigating the HoloNet as a means of communication. Both the Loyalists and Separatists would have their fingers all over the network, so how did he go undetected for so long? Republic Intelligence could be in the know, but the very fact that he wasn’t using the Separatist Munificent network implied that the Confederate Intelligence didn’t.

…Were Tann and Bonteri already suspecting Dooku, and made sure to calibrate their efforts to catch him in particular? Or was it–as Bonteri claimed–merely a case of luck?

Perhaps he should introduce the idea of an intel collaboration agreement–that would surely give him answers. Nevertheless, everything pointed towards a greater plot at hand that nobody in the galaxy could fathom.

Count Dooku, of all people, feeding the Republic information to win the war?

Was he secretly still an ally of the Jedi Order, despite his very public departure? Why would he found the Separatist Alliance in the first place? Very little added up.

“He wanted the Coalition disgraced,” Simon finally admitted, “To force his General Grievous through the Senate, he needed a win.”

“And Centares was to be the setting for that,” Diedrich tilted his chin up, “And what did you get in return?”

“He would smooth over my introduction into the Separatist Parliament,” he sighed, “As well as grant the Columex more favourable rights and commercial agreements. It wasn’t supposed to turn out like this.”

“It can’t be helped,” Diedrich stood up, peeling off his tea-stained glove and slapping it down on the table, “You will return to Columex immediately. Do not make me bring you here.”

Simon shot to his feet in a panic, “Wait! Look, we can’t beat Dooku in a propaganda war. His grip on the Independent Systems is rock solid. This whistleblowing isn’t going to change anything while he still controls the media. We still have to work with him–at least for now–and that’s what I’m trying to accomplish!”

Desperation coloured his voice brilliantly, and Diedrich felt no small amount of schadenfreude from it. Enough of playing in the shadows with handshakes and backdoor deals. Columex will not be deprived of her glory any longer.

Counter Admiral Diedrich Greyshade levelled his gaze beyond the porthole of his stateroom, scanning the length of his pride and joy, battlecruiser Kronprinz. Modernised and refitted over the millenia, there was likely not a single original panel left on her hull. She may not be the oldest vessel in the system–that trophy belonged to the heavy cruiser Grosstat–but she has been fighting since the Fourth Jedi Schism and all the wars since.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“Know this, Simon; when people expect you to play a role without handing you a script, they should be prepared for an improv performance that may not go their way,” Diedrich told his cousin pointedly, “That's the risk you take when you manipulate. We’re at war now–we best start treating it as one.”

Simon slowly lowered himself back into his seat.

Diedrich had long entertained the idea that Kronprinz once downed a Jedi flagship, in ages past.

And wondered if she could do it again.

⁂

Wanting to short circuit the bureaucracy, so as to not repeat the JDF’s retardation, we basically told each planetary defence force to pick one or two representatives. There were some protests, but suffice to say none of us were in the mood for it and thus put our foot down on the issue.

While waiting for the amalgamation of officers in colourful uniforms and devices to shuffle around the holoprojection table, I took the opportunity to slack my nerves by goofing around with Hare.

I extended a hand palm side up, and Hare hopped up to clap it. I held it out again, and this time lifted my hand up as she tried to reach it, narrowly missing. Hare paused, annoyance blatant into her bright yellow eyes, despite her lack of expression. I offered my hand again, and she took to staring at it like a house cat would a mouse.

Time stretched on as she observed my slightest twitches, internally calculating the best time to strike. Unfortunately, LEP droids were not built for their reflexes, and I could easily notice her servomotors whirring in anticipation.

She leapt–I snapped my hand away–and caught empty air. I snickered.

Hare punched my knee with a metal fist, ears drooping in frustration. I resisted the urge to hiss in pain and reach for my assaulted leg. Those twig-like arms really hid some real strength. Should’ve thought of that–servant droids like LEPs are built like ants; capable of lifting several times their body weight.

“Sorry,” I cooed, “Don’t be mad.”

“Is this the time?” a rough voice asked.

Vinoc had really seen better days. If he had looked worse for wear before–well, you’d only need to see everyone unconsciously giving him a wide berth to think he was a vampire or something, to say nothing of his face. If he had tasted the Dark Side before, he was bloody stuffing his face with it now. Unhealthily bleached skin, oily unkempt hair, and dull orange eyes with blood-rimmed irises.

My skin prickled from his presence alone–a cold chill settling in the air around me. It took everything I had to not shiver violently.

Diedrich had already begun the strategic conference–Counter Admiral Greyshade, in the local ranking system I believe–though I only kept a single ear open for it.

“If not now, when?” I shot back, “When the Loyalists are here?”

“When the war is over,” the fallen Jedi growled, “I finally understand the lessons you had to teach me, but I still do not understand how you can be so… indifferent at a time like this.”

“Relaxed,” I corrected, “I am relaxed, because I may not be again. Look over there.”

I discreetly gestured towards Calli Trilm, who was making a pretty good rendition of a wallflower as she sneakily snacked on some of the cruise ship’s complimentary refreshments. Realising we were looking–or rather, realising Vinoc was looking, because he was pretty noticeable–she scowled at us and hid the packet behind her body.

“We might die,” I huffed, “So sleep, eat, and party while you can. Don’t let your nerves get to you. This moment? Savour it.”

Hare’s ears perked up abruptly, slicing through the air like twin scimitars.

“Yes?” I prompted.

“Unicorn Squadron is at Belderone,” she notified.

“That’s the one with the Padawan girl, correct?” Vinoc asked quietly.

He sounded almost forlorn, which I had to admit, surprised me. I inspected his face carefully, wondering how the inevitable battle at Columex would affect a Force-sensitive. The Battle of Centares played host to roughly two-thousand warships and a millions deaths, but from the look of things, Columex will see twice those figures. And battles will only keep growing as the war warmed up into its second year.

I did not pretend to know how the Force affects an individual. I imagine it's different for each person–but from Tuff’s regular reports, Barriss Offee was fantastically close to caving in. Callous of me as it may be, but if nobody could prevent the millions of casualties, I could at least use the opportunity to bring the war one step closer to ending.

“How do you feel about the war?” I asked suddenly.

Vinoc shuffled, drawing his attention back to the meeting, “I just want it to end. But that’s not happening any time soon, is it?”

I nodded proudly, “Good answer. We follow the plan, Hare.”

“As you will, Master Rain.”

I tugged down on my lapels and crept forward slowly, gradually keying myself back into the discourse as I ‘excuse me’d’ and ‘sorry’d’ my way to the centre of the crowd. Diedrich Greyshade had graciously allowed the Coalition to take the lead, despite his greater rank on paper, but that didn’t limit him from naturally taking control of the flow of the dialogue–almost at home beneath the attention.

“–We are going to be outnumbered, again,” Rel Harsol stood directly opposed from Diedrich, playing the crowd, “Analysis from our sensor logs indicates the enemy fleet had been bolstered by elements from the Steel Blade Fleet and White Cuirass Fleet. We can expect two to three-thousand warships against us.”

“And you found that out now!?” an officer from Ampliquen slammed.

“Correct,” I cut in, drawing attention to myself, “We had entertained the Republic’s strategy before in one of our simulations, but we made a severe oversight.”

“What oversight?”

I levelled an even stare, “That Republic High Command actually had the political pull to mobilise two more sector fleets at the drop of a hat. Loathe are we to admit, but the Republic does

still harbour some of the brightest military thinkers in the galaxy.”

Manually taking control of the projection, I minimised the holotab and reintroduced the Perlemian Trade Route, highlighting Lantillies, Chandrila, and Alderaan.

“The Republic used the Cerulean Spear and Blazing Claw Fleets as a shield, slamming them in our faces and taking our attention with sieges and skirmishes. The Steel Blade and White Cuirass Fleets was the hidden spear, ready and waiting for the most opportune moment to strike. With the Perlemian cleared up and a stage waiting for them at Centares, all they had to do was–” I leaned forward to physically trace the hyperlane with a finger to make my point, “–Come right up to meet us there, towing a star dreadnought with them. An admittedly brilliant and technically intensive strategy–the mastermind is someone to be wary of. But it only works once.”

Harsol shot me a grateful look for the assist, “And considering they are taking their time following up, we can safely presume they are in the state of reorganising their forces. The Republic did not have the resources for a prolonged engagement before, they certainly do not now. Columex will make or break both of us.”

“We will not be alone,” Diedrich pressed his palms on the table, “Admiral Tonith’s First Fleet is returning from the Southern Front, and Admiral Trench has contacted us from Lianna. We can play the exact same game as the Republic.”

Diedrich wasn’t letting anything but stalwart confidence show, even though he must be plagued with thoughts of sabotage and betrayal. The revelation about Dooku was bound to create ripples, and it was the harsh truth that nobody knew what to expect. Worst of worst cases, we will be completely alone.

Internally, I was praying to every god I knew that Sev’rance Tann was hauling ass up the Salin Corridor. This was the chance she needed. She must know that. I’ve made plans, of course, for the potential case where she doesn’t make it. But I’ve since learned that betting against her was unwise.

“Trench and Tonith aren’t going to matter if the Republic deploys one of their Mandators,” Calli raised her voice from the back, lifting herself off the wall, “What good will they be if we get crushed before they arrive?”

“We should’ve fought them at Centares,” the officer from Ampliquen snarled, glaring at his still-defiant Belderone and Auril colleagues, “All we’ve done is given them time to pull more ships from the Core! They already deployed one star dreadnought? What’s stopping them from deploying another, or two!?”

He was right. We needed something that would even the balance of power a little… a force multiplier. That’s right; wasn’t this battle shaping up to be an enlarged version of Salvara? If Tectors were vulnerable to ground-to-orbit cannons, Mandators would be doubly, triply so.

“Does Columex have planetary ion batteries?” I asked.

“We do,” Diedrich confirmed, “But they are well-publicised, and don’t offer full coverage. I can bet the Republic will jump in when they are facing the wrong side. Not to mention that if the Republic is close enough to the planet for us to use them… considering the number of ships, we may have already lost by then.”

Shit. That’s also a good point. Force multiplier… what else could we do? I wracked my head, mentally combing through all my previous experiences–both practical and theoretical–for any inspiration.

Krant. The Battle of Krant was a masterclass in manoeuvre warfare, which I replicated at Teth at a more limited scale. Using orbital bodies to conceal warships for an 360 degree ambush… figuring out the exact comms and coordination matrix would be a vast undertaking, but it could be done. Theoretically.

I commandeered the holoprojector again, zooming back into the Columex System and hungrily devouring any information on the planets in the star system. There was Columex, some gas giants, a ringed planet… a ringed planet?

“An asteroid belt,” I muttered out loud, “Do we have interdiction mines?”

Diedrich raised an eyebrow, clearly wanting in on my thought process, “We do. But not enough to make any significant impact on the projected enemy fleet.”

Right, right. Force multiplier, force multiplier… Tann Railgun. Oh, now that’s an idea.

“Tractor beams. What ships do we have on hand have the most powerful tractor beams?” I asked, stomach leaping.

“Providences, Lucrehulks,” Harsol listed off.

“No– we don’t need precision–” carrier-capable warship tractors were fine-tuned to guide in LACs, “We need sheer power.”

“Orbital tugs,” Diedrich immediately answered, “Columex is the largest hyper-junction and trade hub in the region. We have hundreds of tugs. Some of our freighters and merchantmen also have powerful tractors as crane substitutes.”

“Freighters,” I snapped my fingers and pointed to the asteroid belt, “That’s perfect. Can we… freight these asteroids over to Columex’s orbit?”

“Er,” the Counter Admiral hesitated, “We could. But that could mean wrecking the cargo holds of our freighters in the process. They weren’t designed to hold asteroids, see? And it would be an extremely lengthy procedure to ferry over any substantial amount of asteroids.”

“It won’t be a problem,” the officer from Ampliquen disagreed, “We can handle it?”

“Really?”

The man jolted, “Forgive me. Commander Dymurra, at your service, liaison officer from Meridian Sector’s Loronar Corporation. Our flagship product is the Field Secured Containment Vessel–or FSCV for short–the largest bulk transport in the galaxy. We currently have three in the Commonality, each capable of holding five billion cubic metres. Bulk transport of raw materials–such as asteroids–are exactly what they were designed for. Please refer to our schematics.”

It was as if a mental switch had been flipped in his head, transforming him into a marketing agent. And he was marketing his product damn well. Dymurra inserted a datachip that he had on-hand for some reason, and a holographic representation of the FSCV replaced the existing system chart.

It was… an odd ship, but one bewilderingly large. The bulk carrier carried its, well, bulk, in thirty field containment bubbles–each half a klick in diameter–sandwiched between two star destroyer-sized engine blocks. Nineteen kilometres long. I was usually against corporate officers out of principle, but this was an almost fantastical miracle.

I grinned widely, a stupid idea taking shape in my mind’s eye. The Republic won’t know what hit them. Literally.

“Consider me a patron of the Loronar Corporation, Commander Dymurra.”