**Chapter 279: Supply Line**
While I remained on Christophsis directing the ground campaign, the responsibility for securing and stabilizing the Republic's supply corridor fell to those I trusted most. Aboard the *Terminus*, Sumeragi stood at the center of the command deck, calm and composed as ever, her presence a quiet counterbalance to the controlled aggression that defined the fleet. Beside her, Ragnos leaned over a tactical display, reviewing the aftermath of yet another engagement. The *Finalizer*, under the command of Lichtendal Cerri, moved in tight formation with the flagship, while a screen of fifteen Pelta-class frigates maintained a protective perimeter around the convoy. Their destination was Rodia—a world that had become both a humanitarian crisis and a political liability for the Republic.
Rodia's image filled the main holoprojector as they approached the Tyrius system. Even from orbit, the planet's defining characteristics were unmistakable. Vast stretches of deep green jungle broken by sprawling industrial complexes, waterways threading through cities encased in shimmering environmental domes, and oceans that reflected the system's star like molten glass. The two primary landmasses—Betu and Encheeko—were visible in sweeping arcs across the planet's surface, separated by the wide expanse of the Rodiak Ocean. Storm systems drifted lazily across the atmosphere, their movement steady due to the planet's minimal axial tilt. It was a world of abundance once—but like so many others, it had been strained to the breaking point by war, industry, and neglect.
"Convoy holding formation," Sumeragi reported evenly. "No immediate threats detected."
Ragnos snorted softly. "That's what they all say—right before pirates decide to get bold."
Sumeragi didn't look at him, though a faint hint of amusement touched her voice. "Your optimism is inspiring."
"Realism," Ragnos corrected, tapping a command into the console. "And speaking of realism…" The display shifted, highlighting recent engagement logs. "Twenty-three pirate vessels destroyed in the last seventy-two hours. Mixed classes—mostly Munificent derivatives and stripped-down frigates. Whoever's funding them isn't exactly subtle."
Sumeragi's expression hardened slightly. "Desperation breeds risk. Rodia's situation made them a target."
"And an opportunity," Ragnos added. "Cut off supply lines, starve the population, force political concessions. Standard play."
Sumeragi nodded once. "Not today."
A comm officer turned slightly. "Incoming transmission from the surface. Identified as Senator Onaconda Farr."
"Put him through," Sumeragi said.
The hologram flickered, resolving into the familiar form of the Rodian senator. His green skin appeared duller than usual, his posture weighed down by exhaustion. Even through the distortion of the projection, the strain was evident.
"Commander," Farr began, his voice carrying both relief and fatigue. "On behalf of Rodia… I thank you. Your arrival… it means more than you can imagine."
Sumeragi inclined her head respectfully. "Senator Farr. The Republic does not abandon its allies. Your distress call was received and acted upon immediately."
Farr gave a bitter, almost hollow laugh. "Immediately… yes. Though I fear my people have learned the cost of waiting." He glanced off to the side briefly, as if listening to someone nearby, then returned his attention to the projection. "Supplies have been scarce for weeks. Entire districts are on rationing. The pirates—" His voice tightened. "They've been relentless."
Ragnos stepped forward slightly, folding his arms. "Not anymore."
Farr's gaze shifted to him. "You've engaged them?"
"Engaged, hunted, and eliminated," Ragnos replied bluntly. "Over twenty confirmed kills. The rest scattered when they realized they weren't the biggest predators in the system anymore."
A flicker of cautious hope crossed Farr's features. "Then perhaps… perhaps this nightmare is ending."
"It is," Sumeragi said calmly. "Our convoy carries sufficient supplies to stabilize your major population centers. Additional shipments are already being prepared."
Farr exhaled slowly, tension leaving his shoulders for the first time. "You have my gratitude. And the gratitude of every Rodian who still has the strength to give it."
Before Sumeragi could respond, an alarm chimed softly on the bridge. The comm officer frowned, adjusting his console.
"Commander… we're picking up an automated signal from the surface. It's being broadcast on a wide frequency."
Sumeragi's eyes narrowed slightly. "Source?"
"Government sector… but it's coded as an emergency distress beacon."
Farr froze.
For a moment, the weight of realization settled over him like a physical force.
"…No," he murmured.
"Senator?" Sumeragi asked, her voice sharpening.
Farr's expression shifted—conflict, anger, and something dangerously close to shame flickering across his features. "They're forcing it," he said quietly. "The Loyalist Committee… elements within my own government. They believe the Republic cannot protect us. They want… alternatives."
Ragnos scoffed. "Alternatives. That's one way to say 'selling out to whoever shows up with food.'"
Farr's gaze snapped toward him. "My people are starving."
"And now they're being manipulated because of it," Ragnos shot back. "You think the Trade Federation or those pirates care about Rodia? They'd strip this planet bare and leave you with nothing."
"Enough," Sumeragi said firmly, her tone cutting through the tension. She looked directly at Farr. "Senator, listen to me. The Republic is here. Your supply lines are secured. The pirates are gone. But if that distress signal continues, it invites more than just aid—it invites opportunists."
Farr closed his eyes briefly, as if gathering himself. "I know," he said quietly. "I know." When he opened them again, there was resolve there, though it was tempered by exhaustion. "What would you have me do?"
Ragnos stepped closer to the holoprojector, his voice steady but uncompromising. "Accept reality. You can't defend Rodia alone. Not anymore. You need a permanent Republic presence—military, logistical, everything."
Farr hesitated.
Sumeragi watched him carefully. "This is not an occupation," she said. "It is protection. Stabilization. Your sovereignty remains intact—but your people will not survive another disruption like this."
Silence stretched between them.
On the tactical display behind Sumeragi, the convoy continued its steady descent toward the planet. Pelta frigates adjusted their formation, scanning for any remaining threats. The *Finalizer* held position above them, a silent guardian in orbit.
Farr's gaze drifted downward for a moment, as if he could see his world through the hull of the ship. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter—but firmer.
"…Very well," he said. "Rodia will accept a Republic military presence."
Ragnos gave a small nod. "Smart decision."
Farr shot him a brief glare, though it lacked real heat. "A necessary one," he corrected. "I will address the Loyalist Committee personally. The distress signal will be shut down."
Sumeragi inclined her head again. "We will coordinate with your planetary defense forces to ensure a smooth transition. Our priority is restoring stability."
"And mine," Farr said, "is ensuring my people never face this again."
For a moment, there was something unspoken between them—an understanding forged not through politics, but through shared necessity.
"Commander," Farr added, his tone softening slightly, "tell General Marek… Rodia will not forget this."
Sumeragi allowed herself the faintest smile. "I will."
The transmission ended, the hologram dissolving into light.
Ragnos exhaled slowly, glancing back at the tactical display. "One crisis down."
Sumeragi turned her attention back to the convoy. "Not yet. Supplies must reach the surface. Distribution must be secured. And the system must remain stable."
Ragnos smirked faintly. "You always look at the long game."
"Because the war demands it," she replied simply.
Outside, the first of the supply ships began their descent into Rodia's atmosphere, escorted by Republic fighters. Below, the domed cities waited—fragile, desperate, but no longer alone.
For the first time in weeks, the supply line held.