Chapter 4

Looking Forward

RSS Resolute, Coruscant Orbit

What a disaster.

"The defense that the Solians managed to assemble was… unexpected," Admiral Gortheon, the naval officer attached to the 223rd Division and ultimately responsible for the invasion of the UNS, admitted, his discomfort visible even through the hologram.

"What happened?!" Tarkin demanded furiously, slamming his hands on the table and causing some of the clone officers on the bridge to look up, "I was assured that this invasion was a sure success."

"It should have been!" Gortheon shot back, "All of our intelligence estimates suggested that the UNS would buckle with appropriate pressure. Our sanctions were supposed to-"

"Our sanctions do not affect them if they're engaging in free trade with the Separatists!" Tarkin interrupted, "How bad is it?"

"Bad," Gortheon said carefully, "We suffered almost seventy five percent casualties in orbit, and half of the ships that managed to escape are going to require lengthy refits. We're looking at a total loss for all units that landed. We have no idea how that happened, since they managed to jam us as soon as they hit the atmosphere, but we heard nothing before we left."

"You left?" Tarkin asked incredulously, "Why? Your orders were to retreat to the outer system and await reinforcements!"

"The UNS reinforced faster than we could!" Gortheon sputtered, "It seems that they've bought more Lucrehulks than we thought. They matched us in numbers then moved to intercept and destroy us, we had no choice, so we fell back to Kashyyyk."

"You had SUPPORT!" Tarkin roared, making the other man wince, "All you needed to do was call for it!"

"It wouldn't have reached us in time," Gortheon argued, "We had to leave before we got into missile range! Their missiles were what did all the damage, we lost a third of our forces before we could even get into range! Knight Quorl said we'd only be sending the reinforcements to their deaths-"

"So you listened to a teenage Jedi, instead of your superiors?" Tarkin demanded, "Clones are born soldiers, dying for the Republic is their job. It's what they're made for! If only you had listened, then we would be in a different place right now. We needed to smash the UNS navy at Ursa, before they had a chance to call their traitor friends for backup! If you had waited for the reinforcements you were promised, then you'd be raising our flag over Earth by now!"

Tarkin pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut as Gortheon prattled on with lousy excuses about 'unexpected capabilities' and 'tenacity' while Tarkin contemplated how he would have to deal with this. In hindsight, he should never have trusted Gortheon with a task like this. His rapsheet was impressive, but most of his victories were already assured by the time he arrived. He was incompetent and unprepared for an operation such as this.

"Enough," Tarkin sighed, silencing the man with a raised hand, "Your failure in this operation tells me everything I need to know. Send me the analytics from the battle, along with your letter of resignation. The Navy has no place for idiots, Admiral. I don't have the power to kick you out personally, but I can pull some strings to ensure it happens. Make it easy for both of us, Admiral. Take your pension, and leave your post for someone more competent."

Gortheon looked disappointed, but unsurprised. After a moment, he said dejectedly, "Very well. I will see that everything is in order for my replacement."

With that, the feed was cut, leaving Admiral Tarkin frowning on the brightly lit bridge of the Venator, as clones scurried about all around him. Turning to the clone commander standing at attention to his right, Tarkin ordered, "Prepare my shuttle."

Tarkin would have to go planetside, and explain the situation to the Chancellor. They could, of course, still launch the attack with the reinforcements, but Tarkin knew that would be unwise. Dooku and Grievous were likely already back to the Separatist core, and an attritional push through UNS, no Separatist space would not make a lot of strategic sense. The opportunity had come and gone.

Utapau

Clawed feet dug into the steel of the landing ramp as General Grievous swept out of his shuttle, followed by two of his MagnaGuards. There was one thing, and one thing on his mind only, above even San Hill.

Sidious.

The mysterious Sith Lord leading the Confederacy of Independent Systems would need to be informed of Dooku's death, though a part of Grievous suspected that the Sith knew already. The man had a way with such things. Even so, Grievous intended to deliver his full report, and figure out a path forward.

As he emerged from his shuttle, however, Grievous was met with an unexpected sight. Blue and white confetti filled the air, as the CIS hexagon was plastered on huge, billowing banners along the walls and ceiling of the hangar. When he appeared, a huge cheer erupted from the gathered organics, many of them naval personnel judging by their uniforms.

"Glory to the Confederacy!" a chorus of shouts erupted from the crowd.

"Lay low the tyrants!"

"Long live the General!"

A row of B-1 battle droids was holding the crowd back, but a camera crew was allowed to pass. The male Neimoidian cameraman hurried along, trying to keep up with the female Twi'lek reporter, whose blue skin and lekku were painted with white stripes and CIS hexagons.

"General!" she shouted, making Grievous nearly stumble in surprise, shocked that a silly meatbag would be bold enough to approach him, "Please, General, just a moment of your time."

Grievous gave her a thin glare as he continued on his way, unperturbed, as the MagnaGuards blocked her path. Hunching his head, Grievous stalked quickly out of the hangar. The meatsacks could party for the victory if they wanted, but Grievous knew better than to keep the Sith Lord waiting. He had been given orders to contact Sidious as soon as he returned from the raid, and that was what he would do.

With a hacking cough, Grievous shoulder-checked a clueless B-1 out of his way and swept into the private chamber used for such meetings. Without pause, Grievous pressed the button and awaited Sidious' answer.

The seconds ticked by, and the room was silent, except for the low hum of the generators. Seconds turned into minutes, and Grievous began to worry. Sidious was many things, but he was never late.

Maybe he's angry about Dooku… a feeling of concern rattled Grievous' conscience, and he began pacing back and forth across the chamber. Dooku was more forgiving than Sidious, and he would surely treat Dooku's death as a failure. But the Chancellor and the Skywalker brat are dead, and Kenobi is our hostage… surely that trade is acceptable.

Minutes passed, Grievous paced, becoming increasingly concerned. Maybe the Battle of Coruscant is interfering with his comms.

Grievous hated the idea of leaving Sidious a message, but there were things he needed to attend to. Without Count Dooku, managing the war would be his responsibility, and war would not wait for the weary. With a sigh, Grievous pressed the record button and stooped into a bow.

"Lord Sidious," Grievous growled, "The Battle of Coruscant has gone as planned. The enemy is rattled, the Chancellor is dead, and that fool Skywalker will be a thorn in our sides no longer, but Dooku also died. He decided to fight the Jedi alone, and was killed in his arrogance. Kenobi has been captured, and I'm holding onto him as a bargaining chip. I would kill him, but I figured you might have plans for him. I await your instruction on how to proceed, until then, I will do as I see fit. Grievous out."

On a whim, Grievous waited another five minutes after sending his message, thinking that perhaps Sidious would respond, but there was nothing. With a sigh, Grievous stomped out of the chamber with a series of coughs. If Sidious was going to miss a meeting, then he would have to wait, as Grievous had new business to attend to.

The greedy corporate executives had set up shop in one of the hangars, and without Dooku, it would be Grievous' job to whip them into line. Now that's a job I can do… honorless buzzards. Grievous paused briefly at that thought. Since when did he care about honor? Honor is for the weak, and he was anything but weak.

Grievous stomped angrily into the hangar, trailed by two MagnaGuards, his clawed footsteps clanging on the metal floor caused the executives to look up abruptly. Grievous came to a halt in front of them and stood up to his full height, towering over the cowering executives fearsomely.

"Congratulations on your victory, General," Shu Mai oozed. She sounded sincere enough, though Grievous knew better. Slippery vulture.

"It was a great victory, we watched you with utmost pride," Nute Gunray commended, managing to sound much less sincere than his fellow.

"I'm glad to see our investments put to use," San Hill said, earning a thin eyed glare from Grievous. Careful now, Muun, I'd like nothing better than to wring your neck today!

"Listen up, whelps!" Grievous snapped, earning instant silence, "Yes we killed that frilly old fool Palpatine and his Jedi pets."

"And thus with all tyrants!" Wat Tambor commended zealously. He's a true believer, at least.

"Yes, yes," Grievous nodded, then leaned forward to glare at the council, "Only one problem, one of you, is a backstabbing, duplicitous, underhanded, COWARD!"

The executives all looked surprised, and looked between each other in fear and suspicion as Grievous continued, "Yes, that's right, one of you thought it would be wise to betray me. When I accepted this body, and was spirited away from destined death, it was to take my revenge against the Jedi, my only condition was that my mind be left alone. One of you decided to go behind my back, and bury chips in my brain against my will! No this, liar, we both know who you are. You better be grateful that I'm feeling forgiving today, and that the war effort needs your resources, because otherwise, I would tear your head from your body, and crush it beneath my foot!"

All the executives were trembling now, and one could meet his eye. San Hill in particular was squirming and sweating uncomfortably, pulling at the collar of his shirt which was suddenly ill-fitted. That's what you deserve, sneaky Muun. You're lucky to be alive.

"In any case," Grievous rumbled, changing the subject and feeling a twinge of pleasure as all the executives let out small sighs of relief, "We have another problem: Count Dooku is dead."

That earned shock and surprise from the council, as it was certainly not the news they were expecting. Eyes widened as they all sucked a collective intake of breath. Finally, Gunray managed to splutter, "Dead?"

"Beheaded by Skywalker before I could intervene," Grievous snorted, "It seems the brat is able to be annoying even in death."

"So what now?" Passel Argente asked cautiously, "We had a careful arrangement with Count Dooku-"

"I am in charge," Grievous interrupted, "And you will give me your full support. This war is not over, and I will not tolerate the petty squabbling over resources that you're all used to with Dooku. I am not as forgiving as he is, and I will not tolerate dissent like he did."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves here," Shu Mai tried to moderate, "We-"

"How would you like to keep your brain in your head?" Grievous snapped, whipping his head around to glare at the female Gossam.

"We must be careful," Gunray said carefully, "Remember, the Trade Federation is not officially in support of the Confederacy. If we did, we'd have our assets seized by the Republic!"

"Then commit them fully to the Confederacy!" Wat Tamber countered zealously, "Skabo and the Techno Union has been in full support of the CIS from the beginning, and you can expect our full support, General!"

"Geonosis is occupied," Poggle the Lesser grunted in Geonosian, "The Confederacy is our only hope. We are with you in full, General, in the hope that Geonosis can one day be liberated from the clutches of tyranny!"

"The Banking Clan will lend all the support it can to our new leader," San Hill tipped his head respectfully, steepling his fingers on the long table.

There was silence in the room for a moment, and already, Grievous' mind was churning. He had hoped his intimidation tactics would cow the slippery executives in line, but it had not been as effective as he had hoped. The Skakoan and Geonosian were in line, but mostly for personal reasons the rest though… they would say they supported him but Grievous did not trust them. San Hill said he was, but Grievous knew better than to trust him after his revelations about his brain.

"Listen up, rats," Grievous growled menacingly, making eye contact with each executive, "You're committed to this war. Fully. If any one of you gets cold feet, then they can head off into a comfortable retirement. If any of you betray me again, then I will not be so forgiving. I need your resources, but I will only be pushed so far. If it comes to it, I will… dispose of you and find a more suitable replacement. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, General," the room echoed, all of them this time. We'll see in time which of you mean that.

"We'll keep the arrangements as Dooku had them for now," Grievous growled, "But they will be subject to change if necessary. This is your only warning, I am not as forgiving as Dooku was. News of the Count's death does not leave this room. And finally, if any of you deny me anything for the war effort, then they can expect their head to be mounted on my wall. Dismissed, except for you, Viceroy."

The executives scurried out of the hangar as fast as their legs could carry them, except for Gunray, who remained trembling at the table. Shivering and short of breath, he exclaimed, "I promise, I was not the one who betrayed you, General! Please, I have done nothing, I am totally loyal and committed!"

"We'll see," Grievous snorted doubtfully, "But I am not here to talk about that. Sidious is not answering his summons. You're the only other one who ever had contact with him, is there any other way of contacting him?"

"He always summoned me, not vice versa," Gunray replied, still looking fearful, "I never even saw him in person, only hologram!"

"Hmm," Grievous contemplated, I'm closer to him than you are, then, "He operated from Coruscant most times. Perhaps he's having issues with the fallout from the raid. If he reports anything to you, come to me."

"Yes, General!" Gunray bowed his head, slowly backing away from the table and eyeing the door, looking to make a run for it. Cowardly slime.

"And one more thing," Grievous growled, "I want all your recorded conversations with him, and any other information you have on him. And keep this to yourself. If you come through on this, then perhaps you'll be on a path to earning a sliver of my trust."

"Of course, General!" Gunray bowed deeply and quickly, losing his silly hat onto the floor.

"Go," Grievous snapped, as Gunray seized his hat and scurried out of the room as fast as his unathletic legs could carry him. Good riddance.

So now what happens?

Grievous stood alone in that hangar with only droids for company for a full minute as he comprehended the path forward. He was in charge, there was no denying it now, and if Sidious wasn't answering, then he was really in charge.

Finally, Grievous stomped back to his private quarters. His quarters were bare and empty, just as he liked it. None of the clutter or nonsense that pathetic meatlings liked to have around them. Stripped, utilitarian, and expedient. Perfection.

The first thing Grievous did was check for a message from Sidious, which there was not. Well if I'm gonna be taking things over now… Grievous activated the holotable, and redirected all of Dooku's mail to himself. He immediately regretted doing that, as he found a veritable mountain of unanswered messages awaiting response.

Blasted paperwork, this is the work of droids and menials, not generals!

With a sigh, he began skimming through it, to see what would require his attention and what wouldn't. As he looked, he found the vast majority were inquiries stemming from Dooku's absence. People had noticed the Count was gone, and were already asking about that. If he were anyone else, Grievous would scoff, but seeing how busy the Count evidently had been, a few days of silence would indeed be legitimate cause for concern.

I'll have to figure out what to do about that pretty soon.

Nevertheless, he sorted all the Dooku communiques into the trash category, then inspected the rest. Sluis Van was under siege, Mygeeto was still in the balance, the 327th were returning to Felucia… the Confederacy seemed to be under siege from all sides. Numerous systems were calling for help. Grievous opened one out of curiosity, and found himself looking at a battered human recording from what seemed to be an open combat zone.

"Count Dooku, this is Governor Flenn, Entralla System!" the man paused briefly as something exploded nearby, "The Republic is hitting us hard, and we need support! If they break through us here, then they can hit Muunilist and cut off our forces at Mygeeto! My Lord, the soldiers are fighting hard, but we're running out of supplies. Our droid regiments have no replacement parts, and our food stores are running dry. We will die for the Confederacy, but if we don't get aid soon, then this world will fall!"

Grievous was about to mentally berate the governor for failure and weakness, when he found himself hesitating. The men were giving the best they could and prepared to die a warrior's death, surely there was respect in that-

What am I thinking! This is weakness, Dooku taught… well Dooku also lied to me and manipulated my brain. Perhaps Dooku's word isn't to be trusted.

With a cough, Grievous filed that one aside for future attention, and went on sifting through the mail. The next one caught his eye immediately, and caused Grievous to pause, before opening it and reading it intently, twice through to ensure he missed nothing.

Well well well, this might change everything…

He quickly responded with a typed message to that hail, then left his quarters immediately. He needed to go to Raxus.

Jedi Temple

Jedi Master Shaak Ti watched with tired eyes as the holoscreen came to life, and all the council turned to watch. This night, the Holonet would be tuning into the Solian wavelengths, to see what would become of the embarrassing failure to invade the UNS. President Andre Jameson was scheduled to give an address, and the Republic populace waited with baited breath to see what would happen.

Shaak Ti herself was pensive. She had strongly argued against the deployment of an invasion fleet against a neutral power, but others had managed to sway the Chancellor otherwise. The fear resulting from the Coruscant raid had led to demands of action, which had turned to shock when the UNS completely absorbed the punch thrown their way, and delivered the Republic a huge loss in manpower, equipment, and most importantly, morale.

The Jedi Order itself was in a state of grieving over the death of Anakin Skywalker, the one thought to be the Chosen One having had his life snuffed out by that horrible cyborg Grievous. Obi Wan Kenobi was missing, and some held out hope, though Shaak Ti knew exactly whose lightsaber she had seen in the video of Skywalker's demise. Yoda claimed he lived which eased her mind somewhat, but still that did little change the situation. Even if he lived, he was a captive, and until his location became known, rescue was out of the realm of possibility.

"And now we go to the Outer Rim, for an address from Solian President Andre Jameson," the Holo News Network anchor said in a tired voice, "Following the Republic's failed invasion of their nation, Jameson's speech is expected to give the galactic community an idea of what happens next. The following feed is live from the British Broadcasting Company, Brussels, UNS."

The screen then changed to a large and classically ornate room, which subtitles reported was the UNS Parliamentary chamber, in their capital of Brussels on Earth. The representatives were all sitting in a wide half circle, below a raised platform where the Vice President and political party leaders sat. Above them all was a podium completely covered in microphones from all news outlets. Behind that podium was the president himself.

President Jameson was a large, serious looking man. He had dark brown skin, and stood six and half feet tall. He built big, with a muscular structure that remained despite being in his late fifties. He stood ramrod straight, with a posture that suggested ex-military. His head and face was clean shaven, but his eyebrows showed signs of gray.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the parliament, and people of our great Solian society," President Jameson began in a serious, somber tone, "I come bearing dire news, of which many of you are already aware."

"Yesterday, May 24th, 2023, the was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and ground forces of the Galactic Republic. The attack was a cowardly and unsuccessful attempt to catch our great nation off guard, and destroy us before we had a chance to respond. We received no declaration of war from Coruscant, nor any indication that the Republic did not wish to continue negotiations."

"Despite efforts to the contrary, this deceptive and dastardly Republic scheme was met with failure," Jameson's grave tone shifted into a rallying cry, as his words came faster and with more force than before, "In the stars over Ursa and the land below, the brave men and women of the UNS military held their ground, and turned this surprise attack into a complete rout for the Republic!"

"In space, an outnumbered flotilla of warships held their ground against an invading force double their size, bloodying the enemy's nose and sending them scurrying back home, while on the ground, our army encircled and destroyed the clone divisions that made landfall."

"This came at a price, however," Jameson's tone went grave once again, "67,203 of our valiant soldiers lost their lives at the hands of the Republic invaders. 67,203 men and women who will never see home, because their lives were cut short by Republic treachery!"

"THIS WILL NOT STAND!" Jameson shouted and slammed his podium with such force that a microphone fell off, clattering to the floor below.

"We will not allow this grave transgression committed against us to go unanswered! Ladies and gentlemen, men and women of Earth and her diaspora, we are facing the greatest existential crisis in our history. The Republic means to destroy us, to assimilate us into their bloated conglomerate, and steal our independence and way of life. To that, I say not today, not tomorrow, not EVER!"

"I know there will be dark times ahead. We will all be asked to make sacrifices. If we are to win, no, if we are to survive, then we will need to unite like never before. We will need to, as a whole, commit fully to this war, and show our enemy that they cannot break our indomitable human spirit. Together and united, we will show the Republic that they pushed too far, that they attacked one sovereign nation too many."

"In the spirit of unity, I have sent an envoy to the Confederacy of Independent Systems. With their support, we will see this war through to absolute victory."

"Now I ask for your support. Give what you, do what you can for this great society which has given all of us so much. Help us persevere, and push through the long war to come. Only united can we stand against the storm, but together, we will be unstoppable."

"Avenge those who have fallen, and protect those you hold dear! These will be our defining moments for generations to come! Let us not be known as those who allowed our worlds to fall to the coming onslaught, but as those who stood and fought! Let us be remembered of the stalwart guardians who pushed through the darkness, to the light beyond. We will not go quietly into oblivion and Republic subservience, we will push through! We will fight and fight and fight until victory is assured!" Jameson was bellowing now, pounding a fist high into the air, "For the future of humanity!"

At that point, the chamber had reached a fever pitch, and when the President stepped away from the podium, pandemonium ensued. Despite the parliament being mostly made up of old men and women, papers and hats went flying into the air as the room gave a collective standing ovation, cheering and shouting their support with all their hearts.

We really pulled the Nexu's tail with this one, looks like Grievous is getting another powerful ally.

With the address over the BBC logo flashed by, then cut what appeared to be a propaganda segment, meant to further rally the people. A quick blurb flashed by, reporting that the following production was paid for by the UNS military.

Then a screen with a grid of each UNS nations' flag appeared, and a pounding guitar riff started playing in the background. The Holo News subtitle reported that it was Immortalized, by Disturbed, a well known rock band from Earth.

The first flag cut to was the star spangled banner of the United States, as the motivational lyrics of the music began to play. The feed appeared to be a propaganda showcase of each nation's military, as it went through each nation showing off their low slung tracked vehicles, angular, thin, and aggressive aircraft, and numerous armed and camouflaged foot soldiers. The feed concluded with footage of the soldiers all marching into UNS C-9979 landing craft and a message urging people to join the military.

The feed then cut back to a Holo News anchor discussing the footage, and the feed was switched off, leaving the Jedi Temple in silence. Agen Kolar was the first to speak, "So Dooku gained a new and powerful ally."

"Indeed," Saesee Tiin agreed, adding gravely, "Their addition to the Separatists will make up for their losses in the short term. Together with the Coruscant raid, this puts us in a bad place. It seems this war isn't anywhere close to over."

"In a way, this does simplify things," Kit Fisto attempted optimism, "We don't have to play around with the UNS anymore, or dance around their territory. The line is much more straightforward now."

"And the line is that much more fortified," Mace Windu sighed, "I will accept responsibility for this. I offered reluctant support to Admiral Tarkin's plan to destroy Dooku and Grievous at Kijimi by breaking through the UNS. We were fed bad intelligence, and the UNS was much more adequately armed and prepared for war than we gave them credit for."

"That mistake, in the past it is," Yoda counseled, "Look forward, we must. To the future, our eyes should always be. In greater turmoil than ever, the Force is."

A series of nods went around the room, and Shaak realized that she was foolish to think she was the only one who had felt it. The Force had been in disarray since the Battle of Coruscant, perhaps it was the death of the Chosen One that had caused it all. Shaak gazed pensively out at the ravaged Star City skyline, which still burned in some places.

"And there is another issue," Plo Koon spoke up, "Mas Amedda has taken over the role of Supreme Chancellor, but Palpatine's term ends in six months."

"Our first free and fair elections in too long," Agen Kolar added.

"And sure to bring months of political infighting," Mace Windu growled pessimistically, "Just what we need right now. Look at the Solians, they're ramping up on their unity propaganda to get ready to square off against us. Say what you like about them, but they're a great deal more united than we've been in a long time."

"And Grievous and Dooku are both smart enough to punish us for it," Plo Koon commented, "I don't doubt that this was their play from the beginning."

"How has the Chancellor been handling the defeat?" Shaak Ti asked, voicing one of her major concerns.

"Badly," Mace Windu sighed, "The loss scared him almost as bad as the raid did, and with the two of them together, he's convinced the Separatists are much stronger than we are, and we need to focus on the defense of the core and expansion region. Not even Tarkin's bluster could change his mind. The man practically begged for him to sign off on a second attack on Ursa. He blamed the loss on the Jedi as usual, but also on the leading Admiral, who has since resigned. He thinks the attack was nearly a success, and with proper reinforcements, he could turn it into a victory."

"Tarkin has always been a thorn," Kit Fisto snorted, "But for once I agree with him. I reviewed the footage. Despite the… ah… unexpected capabilities of the UNS Navy, we almost beat them. They were down to twenty five percent strength at the end of the battle."

"Underestimating the UNS once is understandable, given their position, but twice is foolish," Saesee Tiin countered, "I mean no disrespect, Master Fisto, only that our resources could be better allocated elsewhere at the time being, like the Sluis Sector, or with Master Mundi on Mygeeto."

"If the droids break the siege on Sluis Van, then that could threaten Eriadu," Shaak Ti spoke up, "I recall that the danger there has kept Senator Tarkin, our deal Admiral's sister, tied up with local affairs there."

"In any case, the issue at hand is the Chancellor, and his inaction," Ki Adi Mundi recentered the conversation.

"I agree with Admiral Tarkin as well, kriffar or not," Master Windu snorted, "If we let up on the offensive now, then we'll be giving Dooku the breathing room he and his Separatist thugs so desperately need. I'll keep trying to persuade the Chancellor, but I can't promise anything. He's clammed up after the failed UNS invasion."

"Effort, all that matters, that is," Yoda counseled again, "And with you all, may the Force be."

UNS Space

All across the United Nations of Sol, the gears of war were turning. Hundreds of factories on Mars, Proxima, Earth, and elsewhere were converting over to wartime production, as parliament passed laws to facilitate the transition into a wartime economy. Tanks, aircraft, and munitions by the thousand were churned out every day, with the ease of automation helping to ease the assembly line construction of such complex machines. The government was working hard too, and in a record span of mere hours, new policies were levied, and the draft was reactivated.

In the cities and towns across the UNS districts, angry civilians rushed to their recruiting posts with a fury and determination not seen since the Second World War. Humanity as a whole was under attack by an enemy that was nearly universally hated in the UNS, for the sanctions and economic hardships they had forced the UNS to endure. Those who could not join bought war bonds, planted victory gardens, and donated spare materials to support the war effort. In the shipyards, the work on Project STARHAMMER reached a zenith as the need for homegrown capital ships dramatically increased.

At military bases across the UNS soldiers and equipment was loaded en-masse into the UNS made C-9979 'Butterfly' transports, built under license from the Trade Federation. Tanks, trucks, aircraft, and so much else were packaged in tight and compact compartments, while soldiers crammed into troop transport quarters in the wings.

With the victory at Ursa, the ball was in the UNS's court, and SACLANT intended to keep that momentum going as soon and as far as he could. For him, there was one appropriate target, whose seizure would be vital to the UNS war effort. It would also help shorten their lines to a single system while they waited for negotiations with the Confederacy to complete, so they could hopefully receive droid reinforcements. All SACLANT had to do was officially seize the systems along the T-C-B line, then unite with SACPERL's forces for a pincer strike on their true target.

A small flotilla was heading the other direction, however, led by UNSS Unity. President Andre Jameson and a force of UNS military personnel were bound for Raxus, for a very important meeting.