Expanding The War
The speeder slowed to a stop. On the front bumper of the speeder, instead of the vehicle registration licensing number plate, was a plate with a blue field with three gold stars arranged in a triangle and surrounded by a wreath of gold leaves denoting the rank of the passenger, a Galactic Republic vice grand fleet admiral.
The driver and assistant driver both exited the vehicle from the front doors of the sedan. While the assistant driver marched to the rear passenger side quarter panel, right next to the door, the driver marched smartly around the front of the speeder and stopped next to the front passenger side door, where he touched the contact for the rear passenger side gull-wing door.
The two Galactic Republic sailors then stood at attention and saluted as the door swung up. The vice grand fleet admiral exited from the passenger side and his adjutant, an admiral carrying a brief case, followed him out. Both officers returned the sailors' salutes as they each exited the speeder.
The flag officer and his adjutant both made their way to a grand entrance at the bottom of the monolithic gargantuan building. Compared to the other towering spires in the commercial districts around the hexagonally shaped Galactic Republic Military Headquarters complex, the twenty buildings that made up the complex weren't that tall.
The twenty buildings of the Galactic Republic Armed Forces Supreme Headquarters were all shaped like squat cones with smooth bluntly rounded peaks. Seven were quite large, as big as a large hill. Six of the seven buildings, each seventy stories high, were arranged in a hexagonal pattern and the seventh much larger building, at one hundred and ten stories, was in the center.
The remaining thirteen conically shaped buildings were much smaller, anywhere between ten to twenty stories high, and were arranged in a seemingly random pattern in between the much larger buildings. The complex of buildings' metallic exteriors were all stained a somber burnt umber with curved white lines and other markings.
Every conical building looked exactly like the other, except that some were taller, and had larger diameters than others. They all had the exact same pattern of white lines and markings against the burnt umber.
The buildings all seemed mysterious, with the only three things setting them apart being the scale of the edifices, the scale of their markings, and their unique addresses stenciled just above the main entrances of each building.
An urban legend came into being that perhaps the markings and the arrangement of the blunt conical structures were a secret code. Many tried to decipher the code, but it was in vain. There really was nothing there. However, the public seemed to be having a lot of fun with the urban legend, and the Galactic Republic High Command let the public have its fun.
Even the plate metal main building rooftop, on which the squat blunt cone shaped structures sat, and which served as the roads, walkways and open spaces between each cone shaped structure, was stained in that somber burnt umber color.
Meanwhile the structures, which seemed to reach for the sky from the rooftops of the gargantuan buildings serving as the base of the towering spires, gleamed in blue silver, white silver, brilliant gold, and bright and highly reflective copper, towering hundreds of stories above the dully colored military headquarters, and surrounding the military headquarters complex on all six sides. By comparison, the military headquarters seemed to be the mediocre buzz kill in an area of beauty, grace and splendor.
Vice Grand Fleet Admiral Strom Thorental, commander of the 3039th Galactic Republic Navy, returned the salute rendered him by the two sentries guarding the entrance as he briskly whisked past them into the monolithic building. Just inside the grand entrance, a highly polished brass plated droid greeted him.
"Vice Grand Fleet Admiral Thorental, welcome back from your great and victorious campaign against the Sith Empire's naval forces."
The vice grand fleet admiral's already stern expression became sour upon hearing the droid's greetings. His feelings about this great victory of his were summed up in two words disgustedly uttered under his breath.
"Bantha poo!"
Although the droid effected not to hear the vice grand fleet admiral's comment, his adjutant, Admiral Makk Shradder, nevertheless did and cracked an irreverent smirk.
"I am Random thirty two forty eight," the protocol droid said, adding, "If you'll follow me, I'll guide you to the conference center. All are assembled, awaiting your arrival."
"Random?" Strom Thorental asked, somewhat incredulous, "Did you just tell me your name is Random?"
"Yes, Vice Grand Fleet Admiral Thorental," the droid confirmed, "Random thirty two forty eight."
The droid turned and proceeded to make its way deeper into the gargantuan building.
Strom turned to his adjutant, shaking his head, and asked, "Did you hear that? Random! Who the hell comes up with these names?"
He turned to follow the droid and his adjutant locked step with his superior.
"Who knows, Vice Grand Fleet," Admiral Makk Shradder replied, and giving in to a short chuckle, added, "Some overworked naval bureaucrat with an endless list of droids he has to name, I imagine."
Strom shook his head with disapproval.
"Knowing how wasteful the navy is, it wouldn't surprise me if there really is some department, tucked away somewhere in the bureaucracy, whose sole purpose in the navy is to name droids."
The droid led the two officers through a maze of curved passages before arriving to a specific bank of turbolifts. After a bit of a wait, the lift doors finally slid open and the droid and its charges entered. The two flag ranked naval officers immediately took seats at the side of the turbolift. As expected, it was a long ride down into the main building, well below the rooftop conical structure.
The lift finally stopped and the door slid open.
"This way, "Vice Grand Fleet Admiral," the droid beckoned, before proceeding out of the turbolift.
The two human males followed the droid out of the lift and into another maze of corridors.
"This is insufferable. Why chose a conference room all of the way down here?" Strom groused.
The small party arrived to a door which squeaked as it reluctantly slid open.
"Unbelievable! Hasn't anyone around here ever heard of lubricating grease?" Strom said in mock disapproval.
"Well! Look who's finally decided to show up," an officer already in the small conference room brightly quipped. "Nice that you're here, but the meeting's already over. We were just about to leave."
Strom took note that there were only four others in the room and they were all grand admirals. He was outranked by all four.
"Go take a break, Makk," Strom told his adjutant, suggesting, "Take the droid with you. Have it show you where the brothel is."
"I'll find an office where I can get some work done, instead, Vice Grand Fleet," Admiral Makk Shradder replied, chuckling, and then ordering, "Come on Random. You're coming with me."
The droid followed Makk out and the door squeaked shut.
"You really need to get someone to lube that door," Strom Thorental said, taking a seat at the conference table. Then, "That was the longest turbolift ride I've ever been on. Why'd you decide to have the meeting all the way down here? We're so far down, I can feel Hell's heat just a few levels down!"
The senior of the four grand admirals chucked at the joke before giving his reply.
"I think we're the first ones to use this conference room in several decades," he said, chuckling.
Getting right to the point, the Admiral of the Navy started the meeting.
"We've been thoroughly compromised. Damned near every conference room and office up in the Admiralty and Naval Command sections of the building have had some kind of bugging device put in the rooms," he said, adding somberly, "It was the entire custodial engineering crew, all nine thousand of them."
Strom could tell that his old war buddy was not joking this time.
"Great Stars above!" he said, deeply shocked, then asking with great incredulity, "The entire crew of custodial engineers?"
Shrugging, the admiral of the navy gave a flip reply.
"They're unionized. They all had to take turns betraying the Republic."
"Just the Admiralty and the Navy sections? What about the rest of the cone?" Strom asked his superior referring to the massive conical shaped building hundreds of stories above their small conference room.
"We don't know, yet, Strom; it might even turn out that every cone in the complex might have one or more of their offices bugged as well. Those custodial engineers had access to every building at the headquarters. The intel types are still scanning for bugs. Just when they'd think they've gotten an office all cleaned up, they'd turn around and find another one has already popped up. Then they'd have to run sweeps all over again. It's like the bugs are breeding or something."
"So, the Navy is compromised," Strom said in quiet disbelief.
"We'll talk more about that in a bit. Right now, I'm giving you this."
Admiral of The Navy Jatteran Haastal presented Strom Thorental with a navy blue padded award cover and a medal presentation box, handing them across the table to Strom. Strom cracked the box open and took a peek at the medal he'd won. Then he opened the award cover and skimmed over the citation for the medal. He closed the award cover and set it on the table in front of him and set the box on top.
"Thanks, Jatt," Strom said humbly to his superior officer.
"Why are you thanking me? You earned that."
The medal was for bravery in the face of immediate danger during an action that occurred four months before.
Strom's flagship was part of a convoy of ships belonging to a fleet commanded by one of his subordinate fleet commanders. The fleet was transiting from one Galactic Republic star system to another in a routine patrol.
A powerful Imperial fleet dropped out of hyperspace, perfectly positioned, and began firing on the fleet, concentrating their attacks on his subordinate fleet commander's flagship and destroying it, killing the fleet commander.
The Imperial Navy ambush then concentrated its attack on his own flagship, as he took command of the fleet. His ship was taking tremendous enemy fire. He ordered the ship's captain to maneuver as necessary and return fire, but not to retire from the battle.
The ship fought bravely, as Vice Grand Fleet Admiral Strom Thorental reorganized the fleet and lead its counter attack. The ship had taken severe damage and was losing its atmosphere to space. All hands had to don their individual life support systems. The ship's captain urged the vice grand fleet admiral to transfer his flag to another ship, but after studying the situation, Strom Thorental refused, remaining aboard to continue to lead the fleet from the crippled, but still fighting ship.
After long hours of combat, reinforcements arrived, forcing the Imperial ambush fleet to withdraw having lost two Harrower-class dreadnaughts and three Terminus-class star destroyers in the vicious battle.
Strom didn't feel it was a victory. He'd lost three Valor-class heavy cruisers and four Thranta-class destroyers. He also suffered two heavily damaged Valor-class heavy cruisers, including the one his flag was on.
With the battle over, the ship's atmosphere gone, and the captain's intent to order his crew to temporarily abandon ship, the ship's captain urged Strom to transfer his flag. This time, Strom followed the captain's advice and transferred his flag to the other crippled Valor-class heavy cruiser.
In transit, the heavily crippled ship he'd abandoned earlier had received necessary repairs, and had its atmosphere restored. The captain had ordered the crew to return, and Strom also returned his flag to the ship. Shortly after that, the crippled fleet, escorted by the reinforcements, completed its patrol, arriving two days late.
"It's starting to become clear to me," Strom said somberly. "That ambush, and now this last action I just came back from."
He fell silent as he began to fit the pieces together. After a moment, he shook his head in disgust.
"They're toying with us, Jatt!" Strom declared, quite unhappily. "They're hiding the bulk of their fleet. Giving us a real run for our money with their run down fleet, which they've left behind to do all of the fighting, wearing us down! It's a matter of time before they finally bring out the rest of their fleet to give us a good trouncing!"
"Now hold on Strom," Grand Fleet Admiral Urrabii Pem, of the Mon Calamari species, interjected, "We knew they are hiding their fleet, but that's because we destroyed their fuel stores and cut them off from their fuel sources. That fleet isn't going anywhere. Especially after they've used up what fuel they had left to rescue all of those people on Makeb."
"This is the Empire we are talking about, here, Urrabii," Grand Fleet Admiral Gar Ullema, a Zabrak, objected, "They are not going to waste what little fuel they have left rescuing anybody unless they'd already secured another source of fuel for their warships."
"Where in hell did they hide their fleet?" Strom asked in an even tone, after recovering his composure. "After they dropped the people off on that hell of a world, Taris, they went back into hiding. Where in the nine hells did they go? Didn't we send anyone to trail 'em?"
"They're using a hyperspace lane we are unaware of," Jatteran Haastal said, adding, "We don't know where in the galaxy they've gone. Believe me, I'm looking for them. I'm risking losing scouts in Wild Space at the other end of the galaxy looking for them, but so far they haven't turned up so much as a scrap of Imperial trash out in the unexplored regions of the galaxy."
"Say, Gar, do you know what the final count was of the ships conducting the rescue?" Strom asked.
"We had five different counts with five different estimated totals, averaging eighteen thousand," Grand Fleet Admiral Gar Ullema answered, adding, "But, again, this is the Imperial Navy. They like doing things exactly so. If I had to bet, I'd say there were exactly eighteen thousand ships. Their task forces and fleets were flush, no undersized fleets, no task forces short of any ships."
Gar Ullema waited to see what Strom would say about those numbers.
"So, you think they probably had another six thousand ships hidden that weren't involved in the evacuation of Makeb?" Strom nodded his concurrence, adding, "It would make sense to have a large force ready to protect the ships involved in the rescue standing by somewhere." Then, with a rueful shake of his head, he sighed, then said almost bleakly, "They've got twenty four thousand fresh warships ready to throw at us."
The three grand fleet admirals and the admiral of the navy watched their junior officer in the room, Vice Grand Fleet Admiral Thorental, as the gears turned in his head.
"What do you think, Strom?" Admiral of the Navy Jatteran Haastal asked.
"If we wait for them to go on the offensive, we'll be finished. We need a fast moving, very powerful force to lay waste to Imperial centers of finance, industry, and resource production. We have to wreck their engines of economy.
"Taking out their fuel sources has worked. It kept the bulk of their navy out of the war. Unfortunately, we were unable to take full advantage of fighting an empire with one arm tied behind its back. After hearing about how thoroughly we've been compromised, it makes perfect sense that we couldn't beat them despite the ragged condition of the forces they had fielded against us," Strom said, again shaking his head in disgust.
"Wrecking their economy will take a bit longer, but it will have the same overall effect. However, I'm not talking about picking and choosing military industrial centers. I'm talking about all of it, financial centers, agriculture, every kind of industry; even if it doesn't have any military application, all of it. We have to bring them to their knees.
"If we do this, they will be forced to divide their forces to defend their economy. What forces remain will be restricted by what their remaining economy can afford to invest on conquest. If we hit them hard enough and wreck enough of their economy, it will force their hand and they'll have no choice but to keep a large portion of their military out of the war, held in reserve."
Strom looked at the three flag rank officers in turn, waiting to hear their judgment of his strategic thinking.
"A shrunken economy and a depleted treasury to slow down and restrict their ability to strike us with their full might, is what you're saying," Grand Fleet Admiral Welden Fost, a Human, said, speaking for the first time.
When Strom nodded affirmation, Welden continued, "The Sith Empire has restrained itself, thus far, in order to restrict the range of the war. We could be fighting throughout the entire known galaxy if not for that restraint. It's because we have this unwritten agreement with the Sith Empire to restrict the war to only the planets which they have claimed belonged to them. Only those planets are contested and embroiled in war.
"In order to achieve the effects you've described, we'd have to shred that unwritten agreement, and that would expand the war to virtually every planet as the Sith Empire retaliates," Welden concluded.
The senior officers waited for Strom's rebuttal.
"Our economy is larger. Our territory is larger. We also have something they don't, reserve militias and local system naval reserve fleets and anti-pirate fast patrol fleets. If we activate every militia, on every world, the Empire will not be able to attack any of our worlds without encountering some kind of resistance. They'll lose forces where ever they go. Remember also, that we'll be forcing them to commit many of their front line forces to defend worlds, which they've left open because of this unwritten agreement. We will outlast them."
Strom could see the doubt in the eyes of his superiors.
"If we are unwilling to suffer some pain, then we could just wait for them to attack, but we'll lose everything."
"I'll bring your proposal to the Supreme Chancellor for her consideration," Admiral of The Navy Haastal said, soberly.
Urrabii, looking to Jatteran for confirmation, asked, "Since its Strom's idea, it would make sense that he lead this operation, if the Supreme Chancellor approves. No?"
Jatteran, turning to Strom, said, "Write up your operation, table of forces, order of march, all of it. Have it ready for me to review by the end of the week.
"Yessir," Strom replied, thinking, "A promotion might come with the operation."
Strom was glad for the opportunity to plan and conduct a naval group level operation, naval group operations were normally conducted by Grand Fleet Admirals.
Jatteran looked at Urrabii, Gar and Welden in turn, Urrabii and Welden commanded naval groups, while Gar oversaw Naval Logistical and Intelligence Operations for the entire navy. Sensing the three had nothing more to say, Jatteran ended the meeting.
"I suppose this should conclude our discussion, then?"
He looked at each man at the table, again searching for an indication that anyone might want to say something more. No one spoke.
"Then the meeting is concluded," Jatteran Haastal said, rising to his feet.
"Congratulations on your award," Gar said, smiling congenially.
"Congratulations," Urrabii echoed.
"Thank you."
"Great work out there," Welden affirmed.
"Thank you," Strom repeated.
No more words were exchanged as the door squeaked open, and the flag rank officers stepped out of the tiny conference room.
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