Ch. IX: The Southern Front

The Battle of Milagro sent shockwaves through the galaxy, even if it was strategically of little importance. Within the Republic, the very competence of the GNR was called into question, and the officers who had been in command of the battle were forced to resign by pressure from both the public and the Senate. The Jedi Order managed to escape most blame for the debacle, but even then, like the navy, it was placed under increasing pressure to see the defeat made good. In military circles the battle was dissected piece by piece, with the loyalist High Command desperate to find a weakness in Vader's order of battle. He had wrought such havoc with a mere twenty ships, the thinking went. Imagine what he would be able to do with his entire Task Group.

On the Confederate side, there was jubilation. Milagro was hailed as a great victory, and Vader feted as a military genius. Toasts were raised in pubs and cantinas across the Outer Rim, and when he and his fleet arrived at Sullust they were given a hero's welcome. He was awarded the Star of Valor, one of the navy's highest honors, and the organic sailors of Task Group Rancor were all given increased rations and bonuses. Vader himself wasted little time in resting and reorganizing his forces. The Southern Front was quiet at the moment, but it would not last. The Siege of Eriadu dragged on indecisively, and Vader was precisely aware that for the moment he was now cut off from the main body of Confederate space. It gave him cause for worry.

It has been three weeks since the Battle of Milagro, and storm clouds gathered on the horizon. After all, the worst kind of enemy is one that has been humiliated instead of beaten.

Onboard Orbital Installation Executive Action, Sullust System

When Sullust had declared for the Confederacy, there had been great alarm amongst the Republic's leadership. The planet boasted first-rate shipyards alongside a prime position on the Rimma trade route and a highly developed economy. While almost entirely reliant on imports to feed the population, the planet in turn exported much desired technologies ranging from battle droids, to custom made fighters and freighters, to entire warships and hyperdrive cores. With Eriadu declaring for the Republic, Sullust was the natural pick for the center of Confederate military and administrative efforts in the southern arm of the galaxy.

Reflective of this was the station known as Executive Action. Initially constructed as a command center for the Sullustan Defense Force, it was donated to the Confederate cause as soon as the war began. No time was wasted turning it into a stellar fortress. Multiple turbolaser and ion cannon batteries dotted the gargantuan complex, complemented by concussion missile and proton torpedo launchers and (with the news of their effectiveness at Milagro) a battery of proton cannons. Thousands of droid fighters were stored in the hangar bays, and it was attended by a Squadron of Confederate warships ready to add their own firepower to counter any assault. On top of that were extensive minefields, defense satellites, listening posts, and the Sullustan Navy itself.

Planetside, it was a similar story. The Sullustans knew that it was only a matter of time before the war came to them. Their industries were running day and night, creating vast hoards of military equipment. Battle droids, blasters, armored vehicles, atmospheric and interstellar small craft, artillery, armor and supplies for their organic soldiers, no expense was spared. Lava flows were mapped and meticulously catalogued, in case they could be used to slow down any invasion. Extensive networks of underground bunkers and hardpoints were either enhanced or constructed from scratch. Sullust would not fall easily.

This was all assuming, of course, that any loyalist incursion was able to defeat the Confederate Navy in the first place and secure orbital supremacy. A dubious task, considering the presence of all of Task Group Rancor in the system, let alone the fleets watching the hyperlanes to the north. Even with the Siege of Eriadu becoming a black hole to pour more and more resources into, the Southern Front would be a tough nut to crack.

Aboard the Executive Action, all of this and more was going through the minds of the various officers and their aides as they carried out their duties. Their days had been taken up with preparing for any possible Republic offensives and managing the larger force make ups of the theater, when Eriadu wasn't going hot anyway. It had become somewhat dull and routine, and while this had led to some complacency the officers were still aware enough to stay on top of their duties. That was about the only thing worth doing in this area of the galaxy, where the war seemed to be at a standstill while all of the dramatic actions happened to the North.

With this in mind, the current conversation being had in the main tactical room was providing a rare source of entertainment.

"… and then proceeded to ram a loyalist cruiser with the flagship of the Squadron to help make way for the jump. Is that the gist of it?"

There was a moment of silence. "…Yes, Vice Admiral."

The hologram of Trench stared for a moment before giving a weary sigh, one of his hands coming up to massage his cranium. His face was contorted with a rare expression of disbelief and exasperation, plus a hint of amusement.

The sources of his disbelief stood before him in a straight line. They were dressed in the blues of the navy, each having their caps tucked under their arms and standing at attention. Two were human males, one with bright red hair, lilac eyes and a gentle face while the other possessed a more defined facial musculature along with shining blonde hair and blue eyes the same hue as the summer skies of Naboo. Both of them were broad-shouldered and clearly knew how to handle themselves in a scrap. The last was a female, though unlike her compatriots she was a twi'lek. Her skin was somewhere between orange and dark red, like a sunset, and her eyes were a piercing steel gray. She was beautiful, even by Twi'lek standards, with a shapely body and delicate face. Beauty did not equate to helplessness, however. As many of the officers in Task Group Rancor could attest, she was more than proficient in cqc. Quite a few overly confident challengers had left the arena with bruised bodies and egos after a match with her.

To the side of the line stood Darth Vader, mostly observing as his commodores explained themselves to the Vice Admiral. After all, the fact that they were on the Executive Action in person was evidence enough that they had defied orders, which had explicitly stated that they were to hold position at their rendezvous point until further instructions. Orders they had blatantly ignored when news reached them that their commander was stuck on the other side of the galaxy.

"What you three did was in direct violation of orders," Trench continued, his eyes now narrowed at the three officers. They all stiffened. "Had you not thought to send word of your plans, our position at Daalang would be in a precarious situation. You put your formations at risk, jumping back into enemy lines that were on very high alert after your operations in the area. You have also trapped even more Confederate forces in the Southern Theater, forces that I desperately need to ensure my own operations go smoothly."

The red-haired human stepped forward. "Vice Admiral, we-"

"I do not remember giving you leave to speak, Commodore Kircheis," Trench said firmly, causing Kircheis to immediately silence himself. "Your actions were reckless. They were impulsive. They were bold. They were decisive."

The three commodores glanced at each other in confusion, before the twi'lek spoke. "Sir?"

"Admiral Trench forwarded me data of the aftermath of your blitz," Vader said, inserting himself in the conversation. "You are all aware of the immediate damage you caused to the enemy, but what you don't know is that after you left the Republic shifted substantial forces to the area. Our intelligence suggests that resistance activities in the area have only intensified, inspired by your fleets. On top of that, the movement of enemy forces to that area has weakened them in other areas, giving our forces some breathing room while the Republic is forced to pour more troops into garrison duty."

"Yes," Trench said, nodding at Vader's explanation. "While certainly not planned, your actions have given us some time to recoup recent losses in the North. And, while I certainly do not approve of your disobeying an order, I can sympathize with the fact that you did it out of loyalty to your commander. The destroyed Loyalist ships certainly helps."

"Thank you, sir," the blonde human said, conveying the gratitude he and his fellow commodores felt.

"Do not think this means you're out of hot water," another, nasally voice interjected. Said voice belonged to the other vice admiral in the room, Poh Kraat. He was the theater commander of Confederate forces in this area of the galaxy, and while Vader's Task Group was not technically his to command, they were in his area of operations. Thus, he had more say in this conversation than he would have otherwise. "I will not have mavericks and glory hogs interfering with my operations. Unlike Admiral Trench, I will see the rules enforced here."

The commodores all kept their faces neutral, while Vader planted his hands on his belt and stared at the vice admiral. Senior in rank though he may be, the fact that Poh Kraat was a corporate officer instead of genuine military did not do much for his image in the eyes of Task Group Rancor. Though to be fair, that alone would not have been damning, as Commodore Kircheis was himself a corporate officer and had demonstrated exemplary ability as a field commander. The same could be said for multiple officers of lower rank in the Task Group as well.

No, the problem was that Vice Admiral Poh Kraat was an asshole. One whose competence as an officer had yet to be demonstrated, at that.

"I will see to it that my subordinates refrain from blatant violation of orders in the future," Vader said, still staring at the muun. "However, I am in agreement with Vice Admiral Trench; no punishment is necessary at this time. It was their actions which were questionable, not the spirit in which they were carried out. And it is only a first offense from otherwise stellar officers, after all."

Poh Kraat's hologram, he was onboard his flagship at the moment, turned to Vader, and the cyborg bristled at the disdain he could both see and feel from the muun. Poh Kraat was a member of his specie's pseudo-aristocracy, more or less having everything handed to him since birth. This had created an over-inflated sense of his worth, alongside a cool disdain bordering on contempt for those he did not consider his social equal. Vader, as a mere rear admiral, certainly did not rate as an equal in the male's eyes.

It was all the Sith Lord could do not to use the Force to strangle the living twig.

"Rear Admiral, if I require your input in the situation, I will ask for it. Otherwise, I find no need to accept it at this time," Kraat said, voice cool.

For a moment the room was silent, the commodores glancing at their commander and the muun while Trench's eyes narrowed. Any personnel who had been listening in quickly found something to occupy themselves with, noticing the figurative and literal dropping temperature of the room. Again, Vader felt a headache coming on, related to his almost irrational hatred of such things that this particular muun seemed to embody. He resisted the urge to clench his fist.

"But you will accept my input," Trench said firmly, catching his colleague's attention. "And that input is that there will be no disciplinary action at this time. Regardless of the principle of it, the three commodores are experienced officers who know their forces, and such individuals you very much need at the moment Vice Admiral, given your current situation. As they are not under your direct command, it is not for you to decide whether they will be punished. Or do I need to involve the Chief of Staff?"

That caused the muun to pause. It was well known that the Chief of Staff, General Grievous, had a small tolerance for what he considered inanity and an even shorter temper. Even he understood that the cyborg would be displeased if this was brought to his attention, and that his considerable ire would be focused against him. After all, it was well known that while Grievous held a short temper he also held great respect for officers who had proven combat records. Something which Trench and Vader both possessed, while Poh Kraat did not.

"That… will not be necessary, Vice Admiral Trench," the muun said after a moment, still affecting that tone of cool disinterest. "I will respect your decision. If that is all, I will return to my duties then."

With that his hologram cut out, leaving Trench to look at his subordinates in sympathy. "I do not envy your situation. Dealing with the enemy will be easy, handling him will be a considerable exercise in restraint."

The Harch then muttered something in his own tongue, and Vader smirked crookedly at the admiral's vivid vocabulary.

"An understatement," Vader said in agreement. "Though I suspect Vice Admiral Kraat will seek to minimize the usage of my forces as much as possible. We are outside of his chain of command, and therefore something he cannot control with ease. It is clear he dislikes that."

Trench nodded. "Yes, he has a poor history when it comes to associated forces not under his direct command. To be frank, it's the impression of the Admiralty here that the reason the theater hasn't collapsed is due more to the actions of his subordinates than Kraat himself. Nonetheless, we'd rather not rock the boat too much by replacing him; at the very least he has an eye for talent and knows how to use it when he doesn't think he's being slighted. Try to lay low for now and simply resupply."

"Yes, sir," Vader said with a nod. He glanced at his commodores. "I am assuming that is an order you want followed this time?"

Said commodores all looked away from the rear admiral, not meeting his gaze. The message was clear.

"Yes, it is," Trench said, amused by the byplay. "I will be in contact when we have an idea of how you should proceed. In the meantime, try not to cause too much trouble."

"I will endeavor to minimize it," Vader drawled, and Trench snorted before offering a salute, one which was returned by all the officers before his hologram vanished.

"Come," Vader said, his cape whirling about him as he turned to exit the room. "Let us return to the fleet."

The three commodores fell in step behind him, silent for the most part as they made their way to the station's hangar. It was always slightly oppressive to walk with the rear admiral, his large frame, confident demeanor and decisive way of speaking enough to make one feel smaller than they actually were. Not that he was doing it intentionally, but the fact remained that the commodores were somewhat intimidated as they walked through the station's halls. For all that the admirals had stood up for them, they had still violated orders. And Vader, for all his emphasis on the importance of independent thought and action, had little patience for those who disobeyed. Even if they had done it out of loyalty to their commander.

"… Rear Admiral," the twi'lek said softly. "If it is from you, we will accept disciplinary action without complaint. We know that regardless of the results, our actions do reflect badly on you. Most likely Vice Admiral Kraat talked to you the way he did because he thinks you can't control your own subordinates."

Vader stayed silent, and they kept walking to the hangar. The commodores' discomfort grew, wondering what he was thinking. In truth, he was merely waiting until they had reached the open space of the hangar to address them. He didn't wish for random passersby to overhear. Indeed, as they reached the hangar and were halfway to the shuttle he stopped, turning to face his commodores.

"Commodore Syndulla," he said, masked gaze locked on the female officer. She, and her two fellows, stood straighter. "Commodore Kircheis. Commodore Musel. I will make this clear. I expect you three to think more carefully before taking such actions in the future. As I have said multiple times, I have no place for glory hounds in my Task Group."

All three nodded, their eyes downcast. The scorn of a random vice admiral they could handle easily, but disappointing their commander? The one who had dragged them all kicking and screaming from the pits of their despair and shame and made them proud to wear the uniform again? That gave them all pause.

"Your actions, however, were done not in the pursuit of vainglorious achievement. I would be a fool to reprimand you so harshly when you embarked on a risky combat operation solely to see that I was properly reinforced. However rash, what you did came from a place of loyalty. I am grateful and appreciative that you would go to such lengths for me."

"With that in mind, no, I will not be disciplining you. Aside from this, you have all been exemplars of command, living up to the standards of the finest officers. So long as you do not make it a habit of disobeying direct orders, I see no issue. Be sure, that it does not become a habit."

Where before they had been despondent the three commodores all beamed, happy at the unexpected praise. It only fueled their determination not to disappoint their admiral in the future. Theirs was a loyalty that would be hard to break.

"We will do our utmost, sir!" Musel said, saluting sharply. The others did the same, and it was returned by Vader. In this case, it was not out of adherence to protocol and rank, but a gesture of mutual respect. It was a hallmark of Vader's command philosophy: subordinates who showed their commitment were handled with fair firmness to insure they stayed true; the truly incompetent were made to fear so that they did not forget their place. The truly talented and devoted were treated with respect and fatherly guidance. The greatest service to such talent was to ensure that it grew strong and steady, so that when the time came he could look at that individual and call them not his subordinate, but his comrade.

"I expect nothing less," Vader said, already turning to head to the shuttle. "Transmissions arrived for you three. Your husband and son are eager to see you, Syndulla. Musel, your sister apparently has words for you. Kircheis, your scolding comes after Musel's. Let us not make them wait."

The three looked at each other eagerly, faces similar to a child getting their cake. Mail from home had much the same effect on a soldier, regardless of their rank. They quickly hurried after the admiral, piling in and eagerly talking about their calls. Vader merely smiled as he sat slightly away. They were like children at times.

But perhaps, he mused as their signatures in the Force shone brightly, countering his shadow with the soft light of happy and eager souls. It made him feel warm. Perhaps that is not so bad, for someone such as me.

Onboard C.S.S. Ambitious, Sullust System

Asajj breathed deeply, her deconstructed lightsabers floating serenely around her as she immersed herself in the Force. Her room's lights were dimmed almost to the point of darkness, for no self-respecting Dark Sider performed their meditations in the light. The hum of the cruiser's inner workings had become muted as she proceeded with her meditations, nothing compared to the sound of the mountain breeze that manifested whenever she let herself slip from the physical world. Dark Sider she might be, the Dathomiri found the peaceful images and feelings… comforting.

If she focused harder, she could picture the currents of the Force turning into steadfast mountains, their tall and rocky forms serving as guideposts for any who would ride the winds. But one needed to be mindful of jagged edges and great stakes of rock. Gaping valleys were carved in between them, mighty and snaking rivers blazing a trail towards some indeterminate destination. They flowed swiftly and mercilessly not with water but with power and stars, offering glimpses into eternity and damnation simultaneously. The sky was itself black, yet there was still light to be found in the form of a great white moon.

It was a place of peace. A dark peace, but peace nonetheless.

The sight of it filled her with pangs she could never fully erase.

Her master had oft told her that these images were detrimental to her growth. They represented sentimentality, weakness, things that ought to be cast aside. Peace was not what a warrior of the Dark ought to seek. This had been accompanied multiple times by a session of discipline disguised as training.

Yet she found herself always returning, yearning for that comfort and serenity.

It reminded her of-

A shrill beep forced its way into her consciousness. Her eyes snapped open, reverting from pale gold to their natural blue. Another thing her master disapproved of; her eyes did not display the shine of gold belonging to a Sith except during her deepest immersions into the Force. Secretly, she was glad her ocular organs had not lost their natural shade. It was a small memento, but a memento she cherished nonetheless.

The beep sounded again, shriller for her return to the waking world. She set the parts of her lightsabers down gently, careful to not damage the delicate components. With a growl she got up and stalked to the door, allowing it to open and present whoever had interrupted her meditations with the full force of her ire. "What?"

Vader's tactical droid stood at the door, unfazed by her display. Its hands were clasped behind its back as the machine stood at a parade rest. The eyes gazed at her blankly. "A message arrived for you, Commander. From Raxus Secundus."

Her eye twitched. Had this droid come here simply to waste her time? "And you couldn't simply forward it to my terminal?"

"That was attempted, but you did not respond," the droid said, unclasping its arms to reveal a note. "It was text only, so I decided a printout and delivery would suffice in place of that."

Asajj took the note, wondering what it could be. There were only a few lines excluding the typical jargon of military communiques.

The three eliminated Jedi are a decent achievement. Yet your failure to rescue Tambor reflects poorly. I expect better results in the future.

Her temper flared, along with a sense of self-flagellation. Surely the fact that it was a trap precluded her from such criticism? Tambor hadn't even been there! Didn't her master understand that it was all she and the fleet could do to simply survive?

And yet, a treacherous part of her mind whispered, wasn't she supposed to be better than that? Shouldn't she have picked up on the fact that it was an obvious ruse? How could she possibly expect to be a weapon used against the Jedi in the dark if she couldn't even counter such basic deceptions? How could she right the wrongs committed by the Order if all she could show for her efforts were three defeated flunkies?

"Commander?" the droid asked, and she realized that it was still standing there. It tilted its head. "I understand the message was not the most… pleasant thing to receive."

Her temper flared again. She did not need some random droid, especially one she couldn't simply destroy without incurring Vader's irritation, snooping into her affairs. "Are you suffering a malfunction, reading this? It is none of your business!"

The droid merely gazed back, eyes flashing. "I did not mean to pry, yet the brevity of the message was unusual," it said, before the droid actually paused. Its eyes flashed again. "… Your achievements are no less for the failure of the mission, Commander."

She laughed incredulously. "The last thing I need is pity from a droid."

"It is not pity, that is not in my programming," it said, before clasping its hands behind its back again. "The Rear Admiral has encouraged me to delve into military histories since the conclusion of the battle. He claims it to be a sort of experiment to see what my creativity matrices and experience algorithms can glean. I have found that proficient officers were those who pushed their subordinates far and hard, but offered praise when it was warranted. Rear Admiral Vader's own methodologies reflect this."

Ventress scoffed, in spite of herself. She didn't need congratulating over what was in the long run a small achievement. That was on an entirely different level of pathetic. Especially from a droid. And yet…

When was the last time she had heard genuine praise for her efforts?

"Three Jedi slain is a feat worthy of commendation, something that entire divisions have failed to accomplish," the droid continued, oblivious to her thoughts. Or maybe not. "Especially given the dire circumstances. Even if those on Raxus Secundus do not recognize it, the Task Group is well aware of your efforts in the battle. They, at least, know and respect how much you contributed. The Rear Admiral has praised your achievement as well. Let the appreciation of those who were there and fought alongside you be enough."

Ventress stared, utterly surprised by the droid's argument. She didn't think these units were capable of such things. Briefly, her eyes darted to the identification tag on the droid's breastplate. She realized she'd never bothered to learn its designation the entire time she'd been here. Normally, she wouldn't have cared.

… But perhaps this time she'd make an exception.

"Thank you, 3110," she said, her voice softer than normal. She gave a respectful nod. "I… appreciate it."

TD-3110 simply returned the nod. "It is merely a part of my duties. Much like the inner workings of a droid, each soldier is a critical component of an army," it said, before tilting its head. "That was Darth Revan, I believe?"

Ventress chuckled. "He phrased it in terms of organs and living beings, but the point stands," she paused. "… Again, thank you. Praise is… nice."

"Duly noted, Commander," it said, before turning on its heel. "I must return to my duties. If you wish, I will ensure that you aren't disturbed until further notice."

"Yes, please do," Asajj said as 3110 marched down the corridor.

She looked after it for a moment, before stepping back into her quarters and shutting the door. She put the piece of flimsiplast on her desk, before returning to the mediation mat. Taking a brief moment to once again find her center, she once again picked up the components of her lightsabers. Each was tucked into orbit around her with utmost maternal care. Typical Sith teachings might regard lightsabers as mere tools, but one of the few things she and her current master agreed completely on was that one's blade was a part of them. If they couldn't take care of it in times of calm, how could they expect the blade to take care of them in the heat of battle? With a deep breath, she resumed her meditations.

And if the edges of the mountains were just a tad less sharp, or the rivers flowed just that much more gently, well that was her business, wasn't it?

Republic Ministry of Defense, Coruscant, Coruscant System

Like its Confederate counterpart, the Ministry of Defense was a building hastily converted from a local hub into the center of the Republic's war effort. It was here that the GAR and GNR were (officially) coordinated. Clone units from across the galaxy sent in reports and received orders from this building, orders that could range in scope from the simple route and destination of a supply convoy to the marching orders of an entire Sector Army. It was a misconception that the fight was being carried on by a mere three million clones; that number had only comprised the initial wave. These days, tens of millions of clone troopers and their Jedi generals were directed wherever they were needed. Core Worlds with traditions of military service stretching back all the way to the wars with the Sith Empires once again put forward the best of the best officers their academies could muster.

It had been an ad hoc arrangement from the beginning, understandably so considering the rapid escalation of the Separatist Crisis into full-blown civil war. In the beginning, there had been doubts about whether the arrangement could work. The Jedi had been inexperienced officers at best, and while the admirals and generals in the field and at High Command had received more formal training, they were little better. Even the disciplined and well-trained clone commanders had naught but simulations and theoretical knowledge under their belts.

But they had made it work. Initial setbacks in the beginning of the war had been made good by determined efforts both on and off the battlefield. Apprehensions held by both the Jedi and the career officers had been put aside in a genuine desire to do the best they could. The former wanted to simply bring the fighting to an end, and the latter wanted to see the war end in a Republic victory. Not exactly the same goals, but not mutually exclusive either. Productive working relationships had been formed on less. For a while, the atmosphere in the Ministry of Defense had been positive and hopeful, what with their abundance of success and their continued drive to learn and refine their methods.

Then came Phindar, with the loss of one of the most prominent Jedi generals to date. Then came Milagro, with the utter battering of a loyalist fleet by a force only a fraction of its size. Thousands dead, far more wounded. All of it tied to the same man, Darth Vader. Before, the military had been buoyed by a wave of public support and praise, and quite a few had taken the slogan 'We'll be done with it by year's end!' rather seriously. Now, that praise had been replaced with questions of competency and demands for action.

It made Palpatine want to growl in frustration, but he settled for merely clenching the armrest of his chair tightly. He was here as part of a joint session of the High Command. It was a rare gathering, with representatives from both the GAR, GNR, and the Jedi Order attending along with the chancellor himself. The object of today's discussions was to see what could be done about the situation, and how to avoid any further embarrassment by the hands of the Confederacy's latest rising star.

The Sith Lord normally would have been thrilled by the results Vader had achieved. Four Jedi dead, thousands more clones and others along with them, and dozens of ships destroyed or damaged? His latest pawn had indeed garnered the full attention of the Jedi Order, and had done good work in helping to escalate the war. In that, Palpatine had no complaints.

The problem was that he had done too well.

Palpatine's plan had called for the new piece to cause chaos and make a name for himself, attracting the attention of the Light Siders and allowing him more room to conduct his secret machinations. What he hadn't planned for was the need to call a halt to operations that were supposed to earn more glory for The Hero with No Fear while discrediting the rest of the Jedi. Now he faced a serious problem, that his planned direction for the war could be derailed by the fierce desire to do something about Darth Vader. This time, it wasn't something he could simply brush off with his charisma and connections. The demand for something to be done, both in military and civilian circles, was simply too great.

The Republic was supposed to take a firmer stance and hold the line against the Confederacy, not prepare to go at it with a sledgehammer. He faced a serious risk of the war being ended far too early.

He was beginning to seriously regret allowing the recruitment of Darth Vader.

"Ready to begin we are, Chancellor," the voice of Yoda called out, and Palpatine swiftly buried his frustration and ingrained hatred of the Jedi to get through this meeting. He was performing damage control now.

"Yes," he said, his voice a mask of pleasantness. "I believe we are all up to speed with the situation, so I will get to the point. Something needs to be done about this latest separatist warlord. The public will accept no less."

Admiral Yularen, attending via holotransmission, clasped his hands. "It seems to me that the root of the problem is that the public perceives us as having lost the initiative. Losing Phindar was one thing, but the Fourth Fleet being thrashed in what was supposed to be pacified territory is another beast altogether. We face a crisis of public perception."

"Should we really base military policy on the whims of the public?" Mace Windu countered. He was mostly playing devil's advocate; Palpatine could feel the man's burning desire to see Darth Vader apprehended. The same could be said for quite a few individuals in the room. "The recent losses are shocking, but they don't significantly alter the strategic situation. We still hold a broad advantage."

"And yet separatist resistance has been stiffening the past few months. This Darth Vader's successes are emboldening them. They think that they have a chance, that they can win. That cannot be underestimated."

That came from Captain Wilhuff Tarkin, who was mostly able to attend because of his connections with Palpatine. The man was a capable officer in his own right, but he was noticeably one of the only individuals at the table ranked lower than admiral or general. Still, his point was a sound one.

"The Hearts and Minds initiative cannot truly work if the enemy believes that they can actually win," said Kenobi, like Yularen attending via holotransmission. "Captain Tarkin has a point, along with Admiral Yularen. The problem is one of public perception, on both sides."

"Then isn't the solution as simple as removing this Darth Vader from the equation?" Palpatine asked, affecting an air of mildly naïve inexperience. Harmless old man persona, and all that. Force, it made him want to puke. "It is my understanding that he has been cornered in the Southern Theater, away from the main body of separatist space. Surely that makes it easier to send forces after him."

"Correct you are, Chancellor, and yet not all there is to it, that is," Yoda said, looking diminutive but no less authoritative in his hover chair. "Easy to launch a strong thrust against this dark warrior it would be. But weaken our other fronts we must, if we wish a strong chance of success."

"Master Yoda is correct," Anakin Skywalker opined, like Yularen and Kenobi also via holotransmission. His normally lackadaisical manner was a replaced by a grim and firm air. He understood the severity of this problem. "I'm not saying we shouldn't do something, but doing so will force us to halt our operations in other areas of the galaxy. We simply don't have the ships to thrust into the Southern Front and keep pushing up north at the same time. And there is the chance that the separatists will try something while we're distracted. That can't be discounted."

"A wise argument as always Anakin," Palpatine said, earning a small smile from the boy. The old man continued. "Nevertheless, I am of the opinion that an operation to apprehend Darth Vader should be authorized. The question is how we should go about it."

"We can pull ships from these areas," Admiral Coburn said, attending for both himself and Plo Koon since the Jedi was too busy with another matter to attend. He had marked three areas on the galactic map, centered around Muunilinst, Roche, and Antar. "Enemy activity has been light in these areas, and I believe that they could make do with the lessened manpower."

"Elements of the Home Fleet could be spared as well," Tarkin said, cupping his chin. "Quite a few, in fact. This would probably lessen the strain on our frontlines."

"That also reduces the strategic reserves we have to call upon if needed," Yularen said, leaning forward. "If something goes awry, we could be in trouble."

"The nature of war, that is," Yoda said, face solemn. "The only option left to us at the moment, this is."

"What about a covert mission?" Windu said. "Instead of sending a fleet, we send a small team to capture or kill Darth Vader. We wouldn't have to worry about weakening other areas, and we can complete our objective with minimal casualties."

"I'd normally be with you on that, Master Windu," Skywalker said. "But… I don't think that will work this time. The public needs to know that we can actually win against the separatists in open battle, and there's the low chance of success for a small team considering how deep in enemy territory they'll be. I know I'm not one to talk about long odds, but the stakes are too high right now."

"There is another matter we need to consider," Kenobi said. "Eriadu has been under siege for far too long. The latest transmissions indicate that things are getting desperate. A large-scale fleet action could allow us to finally relieve them if it goes well, along with breaking the back of separatist forces in the region. In the long run, this would allow us to focus even more attention on the enemy to the north and west."

Tarkin nodded in appreciation at Kenobi's contribution. It was obvious the man was worried for his homeworld, and more than welcomed the opportunity for it to be relieved from the droid onslaught.

Palpatine raged internally. That was the absolute last thing he wanted. But he was helpless to stop it, not if he wanted to avoid any criticism against himself for inaction. So, he merely nodded his assent, frothing at his veneer of meek acquiescence.

"I agree with General Kenobi," Yularen said, with others muttering their assent as well. He turned to Admiral Coburn. "Just how many ships could we commit to this operation from the areas you specified? Assume that elements from the Home Fleet would be committed as well."

Coburn did some mental math for a moment. "At the absolute maximum, accounting for both combat and support, I think we can muster around 2,000 ships for this operation. Anything else would put too much strain on our frontlines. Combined separatist naval forces in the region amount to seven hundred ships, give or take."

Quite a few eyebrows were raised at the numbers. This had quickly turned into a major campaign, one that would have profound effects on the war as a whole.

"Take care, we must," Yoda said, earning everyone's attention. "Large this force may be, but stretch us thin to assemble it this does. Ships we have, replacements for them we do not."

"Yes, especially since quite a few of our new hulls won't come online for another few months," Coburn said. "This is a make or break operation."

It was the sort of thing they did not want to hear. Both the Jedi and the Admiralty had refrained from high-risk operations on a large scale, specifically because of the fact that their ship production had yet to catch up to separatist numbers. It would be all too easy for the enemy to overwhelm them after their frontlines had been weakened by a failed operation. Palpatine had only allowed such things to happen when he had stacked the deck in the Republic's favor, and made sure that Skywalker would be the one to reap the glory. This time he could only do the former; he knew Skywalker and Kenobi were tied down in a completely different area of the galaxy, and to pull them away was out of the question. Especially because his machinations had called for them to be there in the first place.

Kriffing Force this was going downhill far too fast.

"Who should be placed in command of such a force?" Palpatine asked, his rage growing beneath the surface. This wasn't supposed to happen! "This is something that ought to be assigned to only our most seasoned commanders."

"Agreed," Windu said. He paused for a moment before turning to Admiral Coburn. "I understand that Master Plo Koon isn't tied down by any major military matters right now, and that his current affair should be wrapped up soon?"

Coburn nodded. "Yes, the general told me he should have it wrapped up within the day. Something about giving counsel to his fellow Jedi. Our fleet can definitely serve in the operation."

"Master Unduli and her padawan can be called on as well," Kenobi said. "Their fleet is stationed in Coruscant for R&R. I'm sure they'll be eager to get involved once they learn the objective. They were close to Aayla Secura as I recall."

"I would normally insist that a naval officer be placed in charge of such an operation," Tarkin said, but he sighed. "But the recommendations are all capable in their own right, and are some of our best. I concur with these nominations."

"As do I," Yoda said, with others following suit. Plo Koon was an officer of sound judgement and had a reputation of being cool under fire. He was also well respected by the rank-and-file. Really, he was an ideal candidate.

"Then it is decided!" Palpatine said with a cheer he absolutely did not feel. His rage at the deviations was blacker than the deepest pit in The Maw. It was a rage borne of discomfort; he was not used to having things outside of his control. Not since he had killed his master had he felt so unable to steer the course of events. "I appreciated all of your contributions to this meeting, gentlemen. Unless there is anything else that needs to be discussed, let us set about making preparations. I look forward to your success."

With that, the meeting was adjourned. The prelude to one of the most crucial campaigns of the Clone Wars had begun. Only time would tell how it was to be concluded.

Author's Note:

Happy Friday everyone. I hope you're all enjoying your quarantines, as much as you can anyway.

Blame Nier: Automata for this chapter not being out sooner. Sweet Baby Jesus what a fantastic game. If you've got time to spare, buy it. You're gonna be in for a ride.

Onto story matters: a dialogue heavy chapter this time, but one that serves to segue us into the next major arc of the story. Those Confederate officers who were lamenting the boredom of the Southern Sector are about to see their wishes for action granted. I've finally come up with names for the commodores and the tactical droid, and finally gotten to do some character exploration for Ventress. There was initially going to be a scene involving Plo Koon and Ahsoka Tano as well, but the chapter was already getting quite big for what was essentially downtime. They'll have to wait until next update.

A note on corporate officers: I wish a character like Poh Kraat was merely a caricature, but sadly individuals like him do actually exist. If you want a real life example of what someone like that in a position of military authority can accomplish, look up the incident at Mers-el-Kebir.

Britannia's Children is the next update. I look forward to hearing from you.

Happy Reading! (And for the love of God, if you live in Georgia like me don't go to the movie theaters and gyms)

P.S.: Yes, Kircheis and Musel are exactly who you think they are.