The grin on Anakin's face spoke volumes. He had just landed the hot new fighter in the landing bay of the Vigilance, also on it's shakedown and trials run, and jumped out of the cockpit to talk to Walex. This thing could move. Calling it a fighter was almost a misnomer. It was honestly barely more than two engines with a cockpit attached. And he loved it. The A-Wing was enough fighter to challenge even him. It was faster than anything else in the Galaxy and more maneuverable. Which had been a major complaint from some of the fighter pilots assigned to the Headhunter squadrons. TIEs were able to literally fly rings around them.
Unfortunately, this sleek new machine was also twitchy. The slightest touch on the control column would send it hurtling off in an uncontrolled spin, roll, dive or climb. Not that Anakin wanted to change that. He actually liked the twitchyness of it. With the Force he was able to get his machine to do some very interesting things. He wished they could standardize on this design but, if he was being perfectly honest, it was just too much for the average pilot. But as a dedicated space superiority fighter in the hands of a top tier pilot, or a Jedi who could use the Force to enhance their reactions and keep the fighter under control, the A-Wing would be a game changer.
Use these to escort a squadron or two of Y-Wing bombers and you could decimate an Imperial fleet without ever bringing your own heavy ships into range. Walking up to Walex, Anakin put his hand out and enthusiastically shook the hand of the respected designer. With his eyes burning with excitement, Anakin motioned to the table and chairs in the Ready Room and the two men walked over.
Once they sat, Anakin leaned and excitedly said, "Walex, you're a genius. You've designed an absolutely marvelous fighter. That thing is amazing. How quickly can they be built?"
Running his hands through his hair for a moment as he thought, Walex replied, "Once we're in series production we can produce up to fifty per week on the line at Dac. Pammant, once we get production going there can do up to two hundred and fifty per week. We can go to series production on Dac in two weeks. Until then we're building them at a rate of two per day. We can get the lines on Pammant built and activated in three months will full rate production following three months later."
"Perfect. The Council and the Supreme Chancellor have given me the authority to authorize full production if I was satisfied with the design. And I am more than satisfied. Lets get this machine into service."
"Consider it done. Any idea how many you'll want initially?"
Thinking on that for a moment before he replied Anakin eventually said, "I'm not sure about a total number. For the Vigilance and Imperial class star destroyers, at least one squadron in each of the fighter wings. For the Venators, I'd want at least eight to ten of the squadrons equipped with them. Maybe more if we can train enough suitable pilots for them. I'd like to equip all the fighter squadrons with them, but this is just too much fighter for the average pilot."
"I think that would be doable. You know, I hear some of the designers over at Incom are working on something interesting. It might be worthwhile to check out as a fill in fighter for the remaining squadrons. My sources say they're working on a multirole fighter designed to not only take of starfighters but heavily armed enough to launch assaults on capital ships as well."
Letting out a laugh, Anakin told him, "Walex, your sources never cease to amaze me. You've been declared an outlaw and a traitor and have been on the run from the Empire for years, yet you're still tied into more networks than most professional intelligence services. What else can you tell me about this project?"
"Not much. It's still preliminary, just being designed. Incom tried to offer it to the Empire, but was apparently turned down pretty harshly. Despite their design appearing to outclass the existing models of TIEs. They're calling it the T-65 now and disguising it as an advanced trainer to get around Imperial weapons controls. Want me to make some calls?"
"Please. We're in a lot better shape than we were a few years ago, but we still need all the help we can get.
"Not a problem Master Skywalker. I'll make the appropriate calls once we get production of the A-Wing going full bore on Dac."
The wreckage of two fleets floated above Kashyyyk. Admiral Sykes had done his duty. He'd broken through the Imperial blockade, delivered the ground element to free the planet, then prevented the Empire from reinforcing the garrison. It had been a brawl. Over two dozen destroyers had engaged each other. The two opposing sides had both been supported with dozens of frigates and thousands of fighters. Both sides had suffered grievous losses.
The Republic had lost the Endurance, gone in an instant when a shot had penetrated her main reactor. The Retribution, Consul and Audacity were all heavily damaged and would require months in the dockyards to repair. In the Audacity's case, her entire starboard bridge had been blown away and she was unable to open her hanger doors due to battle damage. But the Empire had suffered more. Their Imperial class had eventually fled the battle when it's heavy turbolasers had been destroyed and it's main bridge heavily damaged by a concussion missile strike from a Y-Wing. Three Victory class Star Destroyers had been killed, one unfortunately falling out of orbit to impact on the planet below, another two had surrendered after sustaining severe damaged and having their propulsion systems knocked out. It was touch and go whether they could be salvaged.
Admiral Sykes had been a Naval Officer all his life. And though he was rightly proud of what his men had accomplished here today, he was deeply saddened by the losses they had suffered. Not a being in his fleet hadn't lost friends and colleagues in the battle. As more reports came in, he put on a front, showing nothing but pride and satisfaction in his men. In reality however, he wanted nothing more than to retreat to his quarters and mourn the dead in silence. He knew that he couldn't, that doing so would destroy the morale of his fleet, destroy it when it should be at it's highest.
"Perhaps he was getting too old for this," he though ruefully. "Perhaps it was time to begin thinking about retiring and living out his days in peace."
Even as he thought that though, he knew living in peace would be a lie. Peace would never find him, not as long as the Empire existed. And he could never allow himself to simply stand on the sidelines while others carried the fight to the Emperor. His spirit may be wounded but it would heal in time. This he knew from long experience. He still had his duty to preform. And his revenge. He would never forget nor forgive what the Empire had done to him and countless others at Caridaa. And until the Republic won through to ultimate victory, he'd stay in lockstep with his brother and sister officers and soldiers.
Han hadn't expected to be back on Corelia so soon. After his audience before the Jedi High Council, and he still couldn't believe that he had been summoned before the Council, it had been decided to do something about the criminal underworld on his home planet. He also had finally learned his last name. It was Solo. Apparently a relative of his was pretty well known to CorSec as a repeat offender. He hoped he never ran into him.
Feeling an elbow nudge him, Han had to suppress a twitch. It still weirded him out the way the Jedi could sense things that those around them were thinking. And the nudge was reminder that his thoughts were wandering again. But really, who could blame him? Two weeks ago, he'd been a slave in all but name, serving a cruel criminal master. Now he was for all intents and purposes a resistance fighter sent to help his homeworld.
The elbow nudged him again, harder this time. Right. The mission. Han refocused his mind and began to point out some of the more intimate details of his former home to the two Jedi with him. And to the undercover CorSec Officer. Nejaa Halcyon and his son Valin were native Corelians and skilled undercover operatives. They had helped him keep a lower profile than his normally brash personality would allow for. They also weren't above using the Force to almost physically shut him up on occasion when he failed to notice their signal for quiet. Rostek Horn was apparently a close friend of the Halcyons and a rising star in CorSec. Whether that was due to his own abilities or because he had apparently excellent contacts with the Jedi, Han hadn't decided yet. For his sake, he hoped it was the former.
As Han surveyed Lady Proxima's lair, he noticed that security had been increased markedly since he and Q'ira had run for it. Idly, he wondered if the security was to keep threats out or to keep the slaves in. With Proxima, it could honestly go either way. What truly mattered though was the effect that the increased security would have on CorSec's assault on her. They had been hoping to conduct a more discreet mission to capture Lady Proxima and her top lieutenants along with as many documents as they could. For as much animus as Han had towards her, she wasn't their end target.
Black Sun was the ultimate target. And within the criminal enterprise of Black Sun, Lady Proxima was nothing but a single small cog in the machine. Han was no wide eyed idealist. He knew that if you removed Proxima, another would just rise to take her place. But they had to start somewhere. And here was as good a place as any. If they could show that Black Sun wasn't all powerful, that it couldn't protect their underlings the way that they claimed, eventually individual gangs would stop supporting them and break off. And while those gangs themselves needed to be wiped out, without the backing of a galaxy spanning criminal syndicate, local security forces would actually be able to make headway against them. Even if just for the simple fact that the bribe money keeping them "distracted" had dried up.
He had heard this strategy referred to as Death by a Thousand Cuts. No one slice was fatal. But combine them all and they could bleed Black Sun to death. That was a goal that Han could readily get behind. Now if only he could get out of the mud and filth he was currently laying in and into the cockpit of a starfighter.