In one of the uninhabited systems near Char, a small station hung in the void of space. It had appeared here only recently—its very exterior made it obvious that it had been constructed quite literally just now.
"How is the loading progressing?" Admiral Yularen asked.
"Sir, it's proceeding at full speed. We've already loaded over three hundred tons of munitions, two hundred tons of provisions, forty tons of medical supplies, and twenty tons of other cargo," reported one of the clone midshipmen stationed in the starboard pit.
"Excellent." Wullf turned back toward the viewport, surveying the station. Anything was better than simply waiting.
Hm. Well, actually, the station is fairly large. Almost seven hundred meters in diameter, after all. And in… well, let's call it 'height'—about a kilometer.
The station consisted of eight standard modules that could be reconfigured depending on its intended role. For the most part, they were mixed-use, like this one—a medical-cargo configuration—but there were also fully medical variants capable of accommodating up to eighty thousand wounded clones.
Still, it would've been better if it were bigger… The Republic's reliance on a "living" army forced a very particular approach to its, so to speak, "operation." The great value of every cloned soldier, who simply could not be replaced, forced to take every possible measure to care for them. After all, unlike a damaged droid, a wounded clone could not simply be abandoned on the battlefield as scrap metal with the expectation of receiving a new one shortly thereafter. Moreover, they required food, ammunition, spare parts for equipment. Or simply new equipment—replacing what had been destroyed.
Yet Wullf reasonably considered this an acceptable price for the effectiveness the clone army provided.
Yeah… an army. Again…
Admiral Yularen's homeworld was Coruscant. His father, Caster Yularen, had been a legendary instructor in the Republic Navy, responsible for training cadets. Wullf followed in his father's footsteps, and after graduating from the Academy, began his naval career as a captain aboard a ship of the Judicial Department. Operating in the Outer Rim, Yularen fought slavers along the Listehol Run and destroyed several pirate bases in the Unknown Regions. He also took part in lifting the blockade of Malastare. In that battle at the Malastare Narrows, Republic forces were almost completely annihilated by the fleet of the Corporate Sector; his ship survived by sheer luck.
Yularen was an advocate for restoring a proper navy, and after his promotion worked tirelessly in that direction. But in the end, corruption in the Senate, opponents of his efforts, and outright enemies forced him to resign. He was immediately appointed, however, to an anti-corruption unit within the Office of the Supreme Chancellor. As a special agent, his duty was to investigate government corruption—particularly during the Separatist Crisis. Eventually, Yularen left that position as well and settled on Anaxes. He did not remain idle for long.
War broke out, and Chancellor Palpatine persuaded him to come out of retirement, offering him the rank of admiral in the Republic Navy. He accepted, and for seven months straight scarcely left the bridge of a starship: first the Acclamator, and now the brand-new Venator Star Destroyer.
Still, there were downsides to all of this.
The Jedi.
The fact that the army would be commanded by individuals far removed from the art of warfare made many officers doubt the successful outcome of the war—and Wullf was no exception. When he found himself serving under High Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi and Jedi General Anakin Skywalker, Yularen's spirits sank somewhat. He was troubled by the Jedi's reckless tactics—and Skywalker's in particular. Wullf was willing to accept him as a brave starfighter pilot, but not as a respected general…
"Pick up the pace, Captain. Pick up the pace. We don't have time—the troops need those supplies."
"Yes, sir!"
"Admiral, incoming transmission from Coruscant!"
Crossing the bridge between the command pits, the admiral headed toward the rear of the control deck, where the tactical center and communications hub were located.
A hologram of High General Windu appeared before him.
"Admiral. What is the situation on Christophsis? We've been unable to contact Master Kenobi."
"He isn't responding to hails. Our operators can't determine the cause."
At that moment, the Supreme Commander himself joined the transmission. Pointing at him with a finger, Yoda announced:
"A messenger we send to Obi-Wan, with reinforcements. Escorting their ship, you will."
Yularen suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Oh yes, right this instant I'll just run off and—
But he answered differently:
"Of course. As soon as we finish loading the supplies—"
"Time does not allow it. Send the messenger now, we must," Yoda cut him off.
Well, if it's now, then it's now. Though… there go all the plans, straight down a bantha's tail.
"Yes. The mission is clear. I'll personally escort them aboard an unloaded cruiser, while the remaining ships complete the loading."
***
An OOM-series droid stepped up to Zero-Seventh.
"Sir, we have detected an enemy squadron at point Z-14. They are pursuing our convoy, designation S-34-ERT-5. By my calculations, the last ship will be destroyed in ten minutes. If we depart now, we will arrive in seven. Shall we engage?"
"Yes. Prepare for battle. Groups Two and Three—take the enemy in a pincer. They must not escape."
A short hyperspace jump—and the droid tactician was presented with the scene of the battle. More precisely, a slaughter. In the distance, countless fragments drifted through space, while two surviving Hardcell transports desperately tried to flee from Republican cruisers and frigates.
Recusant, obeying the captain's commands, surged forward and opened fire with all weapons. From the hangars of the Lucrehulk, swarms of Vulture droids and Hyena bombers poured out.
The enemy reacted immediately: reforming their formation and turning straight toward them, they launched their own fighters. And then—out of hyperspace, to their left and right—two groups of ships from Zero-Seventh's squadron emerged. Now the advantage lay with the Separatists…
***
Ahsoka watched the pursuit with eager excitement.
"Come on, just a little more… ugh, you missed," the girl commented animatedly on the Republic gunners' fire.
Glancing at her Master, she noticed that he had begun to frown.
"Master?"
He didn't answer. Ahsoka reached out through their bond.
Master?
Yes… I'm here…
Snapping out of it, the Jedi sprang up from the crate.
"Lichtendal! Prepare for defense!"
"Yes, sir!" The first lieutenant snapped a salute. "All ships, prepare for combat!"
And then, directly ahead of them, a small enemy squadron appeared: Recusant-class light destroyer, two Lucrehulks, and five Munificent-class frigates.
"Engage the enemy!" Ceri ordered. "Launch fighters!"
The Master, however, did not share his enthusiasm and muttered under his breath:
"Something's wrong… something's not right…"
"Sir, ships are emerging from hyperspace… left and right… it's the enemy, sir!" reported a clone operator. "Bombers incoming!"
At that very moment, the ship's bridge shuddered violently. Ahsoka barely managed to keep her footing. Over the din, she heard the Jedi shout:
"Everyone, forward—now! We're breaking through! It's our only chance!"
***
Lichtendal reported with visible relief:
"Sir, we've entered the system."
I cast a glance at the lifeless planet.
"Good. Sumeragi, report our losses…"
They caught us after all. Chasing the enemy convoy, we nearly wiped it out, but then an enemy squadron—eight pennants strong—dropped out of hyperspace. We had no choice but to attack before they could react. The problem was, they were waiting for us. The moment we were fully drawn into the fight, two more groups of ships emerged from hyperspace—twelve in each. They struck our flanks and partially from the rear. The Force is not omnipotent, and this was something I simply couldn't foresee. What good is a constant sense of danger if you don't know where the threat truly lies? We had to improvise—punch straight through the center of the enemy formation. The opposing commander didn't expect such a move. It was illogical—and that's why it worked. We escaped via an emergency hyperspace jump… though not all of us did. The price was high.
Li Noriega began her report:
"Sir, we lost the Taidirium, two frigates, and one Consular-class corvette. Resolute and Bannager are heavily damaged. Akagi got off relatively lightly, but the starboard hangar is temporarily out of action. Heavy losses among fighters and bombers: operational are eighty-four Z-95 fighters, twenty-two Actis interceptors, a dozen ARCs, and eight Y-wings."
I clenched the edge of the tactical table.
Damn it… more than half the flotilla. And with the Taidirium, we also lost two regiments of militia. After Nadiem, we split them evenly with the Bannager so we wouldn't lose everyone on a single ship. And now we've lost… half anyway. Several hundred clones stationed in Akagi's hangar were wounded or killed—a torpedo punched through the armored gates and detonated near the bombers. Thank the Force, there were no bombs or torpedoes loaded at the time. Even so, four BTL-B craft were lost beyond recovery. To hell with the hardware… we lost too many people. Many pilots were killed, among them Colonel Soma Paris. She covered our retreat to the very end… Several young pilots owe their lives to her. And besides the dead, there are wounded—some critically. Their lives are still in question.
All in all, there was nothing to celebrate.
"Listen to my orders. Begin ship repairs. Tend to the wounded and the dead. You have three hours for everything. After that, we leave. It's gotten too crowded here…"