After forty minutes of flight, a message from General Vikt arrived at the main terminal. Sumeragi, like the others, gathered at the tactical table to read it.
"Looks impressive," Grace muttered.
"That's an understatement," Christen replied.
The young officers immersed themselves in reading.
"But we've practically been promoted," Sumeragi announced.
"Do you think so?"
"Yes. Apparently, the new rank of first lieutenant corresponds to the old rank of captain in the Justice Department. In general, naval ranks have been significantly upgraded."
"But why?"
"It's simple—the role of the navy in this war is becoming crucial, and it's only natural that we're being given priority over other branches of the military."
"Do you think we'll get reinforcements?" Mirro asked.
"We should. We're flying to Nubia after all, and that's the headquarters of the Second Sector Army."
"That would be nice. Maybe I'll get a ship under my command," O'Connor said dreamily.
"But there's something else that follows from this," Cerri said.
The others looked at him questioningly.
"It means that we'll soon have to go into battle again. And war… war does not forgive mistakes," explained the Atoan.
***
My brain nearly went haywire, but I managed to get through all the documents and reached the bridge five minutes before we entered the Nubus system. It might have seemed childish on my part, but I dressed to look more combat-ready. The Jedi robe was set aside in favor of a sleeveless shirt, and my belt was weighed down by the holster of a blaster pistol. It was a pity, of course, that the armor was unusable, but that was still better than my own body. So I went to our repairmen, and they fitted me with clone greaves, bracers, and a shoulder pad. A couple of foam inserts solved the size issue. The only thing missing for complete happiness was a helmet—but oh well, we'd manage without it. I also instructed Blama on this matter, and he promised to do his best. As for Puck, there was no need to ask—he already had that "I'm the king, and you're all donkeys" look. Childish, in a word, but we couldn't lose face in front of the newbies, could we?
The ship's officers didn't fall behind either. Li Noriega and Mirro, ever since Jabiim, never parted with their blaster pistols, and so their appearance was battleready. Lichtendal… well, what can I say, an aristocrat remains an aristocrat even on Tatooine — he needs no crutches. Or maybe he really is of noble blood? I'll have to ask. As for O'Connor… well, who takes Zeltrons seriously? There's no point in even trying.
Ahsoka rushed onto the bridge after me, out of breath.
"Been training?"
"Yeah." She stepped closer and poked me in the side with her fist. "Have you been sitting at the datapad the whole flight again?"
"Do I look that bad?" I smiled, glancing at the overview screens.
"Sir, we've entered the Nubus system!" Lichtendal announced.
A mesmerizing view spread out before us. The bluish-green planet reminded me of Earth, though it was slightly smaller in size and had a more temperate climate. In the galaxy, Nubia is known as the home of Nubia Star Drives, a company that develops both starships and their components. The N-1 starfighter—the very same yellow one Anakin flew in The Phantom Menace—was equipped with Nubian engines and hyperdrives. Naboo engineers built machines that were quite good, even beautiful, but very impractical and expensive. Plus, from local memories, I also knew that the giant transport company TradeCo, which handled shipments along the Hydian Way, and the pharmaceutical company FarmCorp were headquartered here as well. Although the planet is not highly urbanized and is described as having a "predominantly rural landscape," Nubia has a population of just over a billion sentient beings, ninety-five percent of whom are human.
It was here, at the intersection of the Hydian Way and the Corellian Trade Spine, that the headquarters of the Second Sectoral Army—Green Mantle—was located. There were two commanders: in addition to Moff Fliry Vorru, Jedi Master Ry-Gaul was also permanently stationed here. The Order was well aware of the importance of this part of the galaxy. Green Mantle defended key Core Worlds, so the number of troops in this Sectoral Army far exceeded the standard 1.5 million clones. By now, the army was divided into two large groups, each fielding three million cloned infantry soldiers, along with an unknown number of non-clone forces. This was hardly surprising: at the time, the Second was one of the most aggressive Republican armies, not only defending its own territory but also rapidly reinforcing other armies during large-scale offensive operations—or, when necessary, "patching holes" in the defensive line.
We emerged from hyperspace almost at the very edge of the planetary border. Hanging directly ahead of us in space was the massive Golan-1 space defens platform, with several Acclamators hovering nearby and a couple of squadrons of starfighters plowing through the void.
The dispatcher contacted us immediately.
"Welcome to Nubia. Please provide your identification code."
A couple of seconds later, the dispatcher continued:
"Your assigned course is 3-7-12. Destination: Nis, the moon of Nubia."
I turned slightly toward the console as the dispatcher added a clarification.
"Sir, although the Sector Army headquarters is located on Nubia, most troops and ships are deployed on the moon, where the primary military base is situated. According to your data, you have arrived to receive ships, reinforcements, and cargo—all of which are awaiting you there. In addition, in the event of an attack, the civilian population of the planet will not be endangered."
Well, all right. The moon it is.
"Knight Vikt, may I use the shuttle?" Secura asked.
"Of course. I think we'll be staying here for a while, and you seem to be in a hurry…"
"Then I'll see you later, Mikore. Ahsoka," Secura said, bidding us farewell.
"Goodbye, Master Secura!" the girl smiled, waving after her.
Soon, the shuttle carrying the Twi'lek departed the hangar and set course for Nubia. Akagi brought the engines online, and we turned toward the moon. Before long, the silver disc of Nis filled every viewing screen. Another Golan-1–type platform hung in orbit around it, and structures were faintly visible on the surface. After contacting the next dispatcher, Lichtendal confidently guided the Acclamator down. At the last moment, the gates of a massive underground hangar opened directly beneath us. Well, yes, on the surface itself there were only the entrance gates, several hundred defensive emplacements, and a couple of defensive towers. Everything else was hidden beneath the moon's crust.
Folding its landing gear, the Acclamator descended gently onto the hangar deck. To our left and right stood other Acclamators, and directly ahead of us were corvettes and frigates. And everywhere—people and clones scurrying back and forth, mountains of containers and crates stacked in orderly chaos.
"Well, shall we go, Snips? Blam, Puck, you ready?"
"Yes, sir!" the clones replied in unison.
Descending into the Acclamator's internal hangar, we moved toward the exit. Crossing the retractable landing ramp, we found ourselves on something resembling a colossal bridge, with landing pads on either side. They were already waiting for us.
A short, chubby man, scurrying forward on stubby legs, practically "rolled" up to us and snapped a salute.
"General Vikt, allow me to introduce myself! I am Marcus D'Jack, Prefect of Nis and administrator of this military base! And this," he nodded toward the Rodian at his side, "is Mebba Saga, Colonel of Supply."
Receiving my nod, he continued at once.
"We have been expecting you. The necessary orders came down from above. Everything you require—ships, supplies, military units—has already been assembled here in section G-23." He spread his arms wide. "I have summoned the commanders of these units; they will arrive shortly."
"What ships have been allocated to us?"
"Those two Acclamators over there, as well as that Persuasive."
"Persuasive?" I glanced toward the Acclamator the prefect indicated but saw no additional vessel nearby.
"Yes. It's a new modification of the Acclamator. The ship's armament has been significantly enhanced compared to the base model, though this was achieved at the expense of the troop bay and cargo capacity. I recommend speaking directly with the ship's captain—he has full details on its specifications."
"All right, I'll do that. What else?"
"In terms of escort vessels, you've been assigned four CR90 corvettes, two Consular corvettes, and three Pelt-class frigates. One hundred and forty-four Z-95 strike fighters, model four. Three V-19 squadrons."
"And the infantry?" Blam interjected.
"Uh… Basically, you've been assigned one clone regiment, along with two militia brigades from Denon."
Yeah, that's… not great.
"Anything else?" I asked.
"Yes. Nearly forty thousand tons of assorted cargo for your flotilla—uniforms, foodstuffs, fuel, ammunition…"
It was obvious the prefect had far too much on his plate to dive into details. At best, he remembered the equipment names, and that was more than enough for now. As if confirming my thoughts, he shook his head and smiled.
"And here are the commanders of the assigned ships and units," D'Jack said, pointing toward a group of officers approaching us. "You may address any questions to them. Colonel Saga will be attached to you for the duration of your stay here. Should you require anything, please contact him directly."
"Thank you, Prefect D'Jack."