A Twisted Irony

19 BBY

Confederate Starship Inflexible

Admiral Trench rapped his fingers impatiently on his command chair. Several days ago, his dreadnaught was disabled, the droid brain unresponsive and his synthetic crew rendered useless. Even General Kraken, the mighty supercomputer of a droid had slumped over lifeless onto the Durasteel floor, his innate computational aptitude did not stave away the shutdown command. Trench had kept his bearing in trying to correct this unfortunate circumstance, having dissipated the Bridge's droid brain autonomy and shunted control to manual input. The cyborg had managed to restore partial functionality to the Inflexible's command matrix, and he had to personally repressurise the vessel's various subsections. He lamented that his command staff consisted completely of droids and made a point to one day assign some Neimoidian officers to command positions aboard the battleship, regardless of their ineptitude in battle.

The Harch was perplexed when eventually, some few hours after the droids were shut down, they reactivated, carrying on with their original commands as if nothing happened. Some of the B1s had muttered in protest as they were suddenly overcome with the responsibility of recalibrating the ship's myriad of internal systems, the computer having reset during their short hibernation. He had questioned his Super-Tactical Droid to almost no avail. Kraken didn't find anything in his logs out of the ordinary, but tapping into the Inflexible's systems had divined a long bandwidth transmission originating from the Mustafar System.

Confederate High Command wasn't being exactly helpful either. He had sent a general distress signal out before the reactivation, but the only response that he received was that of a short Aurebesh message, relayed indefinitely, ordering all assets to maintain radio silence. He has since conducted his standing orders, in that, protecting the staging area around Jabiim and Sy Myrth, protecting Raxus with the aid of the 27th Sector Armada and the 52nd Guards Flotilla. He was perfectly comfortable asserting a defensive position, especially with the Republic's attacks on Saleucami and Felucia nearby.

"Admiral," started Super-Tactical Droid Kraken, snapped the Harch out of his reverie, talking over at him from his gunnery oversight position. "New contact emerging out of hyperspace - large tonnage."

Trench rose up quickly, addressing the matter with the utmost seriousness and consideration. "Raise shields! All ships are to assume a defensive posture." Trench was waiting for this, he was ready for whatever the Republic was about to throw at him. The 27th Sector Armada was a formidable collection of ships centred primarily around three Lucrehulk-class Battleships that provided a trifecta of strike craft cover. He was not about to repeat the mistakes of the past by allowing a single, cleverly positioned stealth ship to run amok his entire formation, so he made it a point to have constant, rotating squadrons of droid fighters zipping about between the three Lucrehulks. The rest of the fleet was organised in a frigate line formation with twenty-six Munificent-class Star Frigates clustered in a wall in front of the command ship, two wolfpacks of seven Recusant-class light destroyers to act as fleet skirmishers, ready to infiltrate the Republic battle line, and pair of DH-Omni supply ships nestled close to Inflexible, poised to supply the fleet with critical munition deposits at any time.

They already had a third of their starfighters mobilised when the vessel emerged out of hyperspace some ways away from the armada.

"Analyse that ship, Kraken, klikklikklik. Standby all cannons," commanded the Admiral authoritatively.

"Sir," began Kraken. "Vessel has been identified to be that of a Subjugator-class Heavy Cruiser. Designation: Audacious. We are receiving a transmission signal... originating from Raxus."

"Now they want to speak, klikklikklik? Open frequency," he said in response, an inquisitive tone colouring his voice.

"Admiral," said the young man as he appeared on screen. His eyes seemed to swim up and down the Harch, evaluating the runic inscriptions on his armour. He gave a courteous bow, as was practised for a person of his prestigious upbringing.

"Senator..." The arachnid scrunched up his face in consternation, trying to place where he saw that politician before. "...Bonteri. I recognise you from the musings of the press around your mother's death. My condolences. My fleet has been ordered to take defensive positions around this sector. I have been afflicted by a loss of droid functions, klikklikklik, across my entire battle group. Do you have an explanation for this."

"Now, Admiral, there have been a great many things that you might not be aware of. There were... traitors in our midst, manipulations in the shadows. The Separatist Parliament has been charged with the amendment of the Bylaws of Independent Systems in the aftermath of this discovery under the advisement of the late Count, after which we maintained a halt on all communications in the pursuit of additional saboteurs. Under the new provisions, the Head-of-Government, the Chairman, will be organising a Cabinet of Ministers, if you will, in substitution of the Separatist Council. This would be quite pertinent to you, Admiral, for the military is being reorganised under the Ministry of the Armed Forces. You have been appointed to stand at the head of this department if you so desire."

"That is-" Trench stopped himself, considering Bonteri's words for a moment. He refrained from asking a few festering questions in favour of just accepting this promotion of sorts. "Klikklikklik that is a wise decision."

"Good," Bonteri nodded, looking a bit relieved. "Then, in normal circumstances, I would summon you to Raxus to administer an oath of office, but in this time of war, we can afford no such luxury. Take this vessel before you as your flagship, Admiral. Your orders are to deflect any enemy counter-attacks over Kashyyyk and to reinforce our garrison there. 27th Sector is being redesignated as the 1st Confederate Strike Fleet in accordance with its new role as the vanguard of Separatist naval projection. You are to get underway quickly, the Republic, or Empire as they call themselves, are surely going to try to retake the world."

"By your command, Senator Bonteri," his cybernetic eyes adjusting in mild confusion.

"The relevant details have been placed on the command bridge of Audacious and communications silence is now lifted. Good luck," He straightened, fixing a proper salute to bid farewell to the Admiral. "Prime Minister Bonteri, out."

"Kraken, begin the transition of our command staff aboard the Audacious. We will chart a course, klikklikklik, to the Kashyyyk system from there."

19 BBY

Confederate Starship Audacious, Thanos System

The Separatist Fleet emerged from hyperspace in perfect, little rows, gently reflecting the light of the system's star. This picturesque depiction did not coincide exactly with the ships' interior, all of them abuzz with cold, unfeeling automatons that exhibited absolute seriousness to the task at hand...

"Hey! This isn't Kashyyyk," said a befuddled B1 Battle Droid Navigation Officer as he leaned back in his chair trying to run diagnostics on his logic processors.

"You missed the system," said another one of them, pointing at the nav screen in disbelief.

"Oh. Stupid computer."

"Bring us about, klikklikklik, adjust heading and engage hyperspace." Trench was annoyed but he couldn't really blame them. Even he had to get used to the Audacious's advanced command systems. The engines' capacity for thrust was also something of a wonder, it's remarkable that a ship of that size could move so quickly.

It was also remarkable how sensitive the sensors were.

"Belay that order! Order the fleet into offensive formation and jam the enemy's communications. Helm, klikklikklik, take us in." The Imperial vessel must have not noticed the battlegroup because the sensors were not reading any fighter scrambles or power surges to its weapon systems. Trench had just noticed it on the sensor field's periphery seconds after his droids did and it was just a single ship. It would be easy prey for him, but he wasn't about to destroy it. No, Trench intends to break down the proverbial front door.

"Charge the Ion Cannon and await my signal to fire," he ordered, the Imperial vessel now reacting to his presence, pointing its nose away from the fleet and running the calculations for a jump to hyperspace. He hadn't seen this model of ship before, it looked considerably more weaponised than the Venator class. Still, as numerous as those turbolasers and missile hardpoints were, a Subjugator surpasses it by several orders of magnitude. The force comparison also didn't help it, as the monstrous Separatist armada began bearing down, quickly getting into range. The new Imperial vessel spoke many times, and it spoke violently. Green streaks of energy swam across space, slamming into the shields of the advance guard of Munificents.

"Fire!"

Audacious too, spoke - but only once.

The field of ionised energy slowly encapsulated all of the enemy's fields of manoeuvre and caught it in a vice of disruptive energies, disabling it effectively. The crippled, grey starship listed lifelessly forward, its inertia the only thing propelling it through space, propelling it close to the waiting claws of the Minister-Admiral.

Two Star-Frigates aligned themselves to the enemy vessel's port and starboard, using their tractor beams cooperatively to hold it in place before deploying a boarding bridge between the ship and them. In the meanwhile, Trench had ordered a precision strike on the ship's communication's array as a precaution against the crew somehow restoring functionality to that system.

"Have the marine units gather prisoners and salvage important technologies. I want, klikklikklik, information..."

Aboard the Star Destroyer...

"Here! Here! Get ready, they're coming through!"

"Get that blaster turret up, twenty seconds!"

Clone troopers dutifully lined up in a shiny, impenetrable wall of plastoid before the burning outline appeared in the bulkhead. Their colouration suggested that they came from the 41st Elite Corps and they certainly showed with their well-drilled movements and scarred battered armour. Navy shipmen composed the boarding resistance's rear echelon, nestled behind studier looking barricades and appearing a fair bit more anxious than their infantry counterparts, due somewhat in part to the necessity of their wearing external life support respirators. A repeating blaster turret was being erected in the centre of the group, a particularly bulky looking clone responsible for its operation, slung the tibanna ammunition over his shoulders.

The circuit completed. An air of impossible silence permeated the Star Destroyer's cavernous hallways as its inhabitants held their collective breaths. Thermal detonators rolled out by the dozens, unceremoniously, to the feet of the clones' positions. Some reacted fast enough to roll out of the way, but many were caught in the ensuing blast. With not a moment to spare, B2 units filed out of the breach, spearheading the assault as weaker, but more numerous B1 units filed out behind them, intent on filling out the gaps left in the front line as it expanded to the entirety of the Star Destroyer's corridor. The turret gunner and his riflemen comrades held the line for as long as they could, scrapping clankers left, right, and centre. Their helter-skelter casualties, however, were simply stepped over as the droids walked stoically at their target, never stopping, forcing the initiative as thousands were funnelled unto the breach.

"Fall back, we cut off!" Yelled the Imperial lieutenant, his forces fleeing deeper into the heart of the Star Destroyer. The scene was identical all across the ship. With the rapid collapse of the grossly outnumbered clone regiment imminent, the personnel within having since resorted to a sort of decent mockery of guerilla warfare, certainly playing into the strengths of that particular clone legion. Clone troopers jury-rigged electrical wiring with power cell batteries from their droid poppers to create improvised tripwire traps. Their ingenuity, for the most part, bought enough time to for the ship's commanders to organise a last-ditch defence, hyper-fortifying critical junctions that are centralised around the bridge with as many blaster turrets, mines, sharpshooters, chokepoints, and barricades as possible.

The result was a localised strongpoint incredibly well defended against a direct frontal attack. The clones positioned along these points met the enemy with precise, but desperate blaster fire. The air simmered with the countless bolts that coursed through it. The back and forth mutualism of blaster exchanges blended together in some instances of purple, the red and blue bolts sometimes phasing into each other with increasing intensity, burning away the Star Destroyer's internal walls as they impacted its surface. The clones, behind hardened cover, felt the exponential loss of their own once the stray, occasional bolt got through. It stung even more so when they realised that the Separatists were fully intent on running them over with an unlimited body of droids from the surrounding fleet; the Separatist Insertion Pods disrupting the stalwart defenders even more.

One strong point, in particular, was collapsing quicker than the others. The clones there seemed to be firing in a different direction than at the droids. Their attention was split between the attacking forces and some moving point in their surroundings. The advancing pair of Droidekas coming upon that strongpoint discovered something curious, the defenders and the attackers were all dispatched. They unfolded into their tripod forms, careful to put up their shields in case this was some sort of elaborate ambush. They trudged forward, stepping over their comrades' blaster-marked hulls and made their way over to the unoccupied clone garrison. They studied the corpses inquisitively, one of them tapping the clone's arms with one of its tripodal legs. The droids seemed apprehensive all of a sudden, the clone's arm was sliced clean off. All of the corpses bore slash marks.

Progress was made in other parts of the ship as the droids slowly ground down the defenders, drowning them in a tide of metal. The Clone defenders fought tooth and nail, to the last man, engaging in vicious hand-to-hand combat with the approaching enemy forces. Eventually, backed into a corner, with one room between them and the bridge, the non-clone officers began laying down their arms in surrender, once Separatist forces closed in on them, shouting at them to do so.

A blaze of green whirled past as both clone and droid stopped briefly to counter the new threat. Something moved gracefully from unit to unit, cutting them down under the majesty of an emerald blade.

"Jedi! Open fire!"

"She escaped! Don't let her get close!"

The Jedi directed a force push to the ground, slamming both sides into the unforgiving metal walls. She dove into an open escape pod, about to activate an emergency departure when she recoiled, a droid insertion pod landing right in beside her, damaging the fragile capsule, rendering it inoperative. She leapt into action and made her way outside of the escape pod. A force premonition struck her right then, and she cut apart a Commando Droid that stood behind her. The Jedi ran, making her way down the corridors to the direction of the hangar bay. What droid forces she encountered was easily dispatched with some careful deflections of her lightsaber.

She seemed at least somewhat injured, but whatever wound she had had its pain suppressed by the Force. All that remained was a certain unyielding focus that motivated her movements and powered her reflexes. She pressed on and found the way to be blocked by an elite cadre of more Commando Droids, one of them fired a rocket at her. She reached into the Force, directed the missile into an air vent in the ceiling, and clambered inside after a short, powerful jump. Her lithe form was suitable in greatly expediting her sojourn in the ventilation shaft. She clutched the rebreather to her face and squeezed through the tight passageway onto the other side. The Jedi crept up to another bulkhead, sure in her convictions that behind this door would be the hangar.

She was about to start cutting through the bulkhead before she was interrupted by a pair of Droidekas. They opened fire immediately, inching forward all the while. The Jedi deflected most of their blaster bolts with ease, but she noticed that the Force wasn't exactly infallible at the moment and one too many shots came close to igniting her whole head. They were almost at point-blank range now, the Jedi's mind raced for a solution, a way she can drop her guard for just the moment to leap away, unscathed.

Klikklikklik-

She was stunned, her entire body lit up in pain and shock as a net enveloped her. It eventually subsided, settling just for rooting her in place as she craned her neck at her pursuer. A towering Harch materialised in her peripheral vision, making its way through a breach in the bulkhead she was about to cut into herself.

Admiral Trench bristled with laughter for a moment or two, exuding a low, rumbling chuckle as he signalled his Commando Droids through the breach to clasp the Jedi's arms in bindings, before releasing her from the electro-web. He ordered her stood up, a point of honour about looking your prisoners in the eye. "General Unduli. A prisoner under a Separatist Admiral? After being made a prisoner of her own trusted clones? Klikklikklik, the irony is surely not lost on a Jedi."

"And you, Admiral Trench have my gratitude!" Luminara remarked sarcastically. "It was quite a rescue, however graceless. Though I do forgive your lack of finesse on the account of such a cordial introduction." Unduli liked to think of herself 2nd to only Obi-Wan in terms of scathing sarcasm and a sort of unique brand of dry humour.

Admiral Trench responded in kind, not about to be outdone by a Jedi of all people, "Then on behalf of the Separatist Alliance, I welcome you. I believe you will find your accommodations with us to be relaxing." The Admiral injected a bit of venom into those last few words, not even having to force a smirk.

The Harch made a motion to the Commandos, ordering them to take her back aboard the ship. They obeyed promptly, shoving the steadfast Mirialan along.