LordDarthYoda - When you are right, you are right...Things are about to take a nosedive..

Guest - Thanks for the reviews! I also think Sascha's a natural for form 3 - not that he can't be influenced by other styles of combat. His Master does use form 4 and 5, so he's certainly got a working knowledge of those forms too. When I originally was thinking of Sascha's character, I was going to make him have an aptitude for Battle Meditation, but that idea kind of fell by the wayside. He's going to show off a talent for something unusual much later in this book, but I'll have to keep what it is a surprise! Remember that Sascha's a crack pilot and that might be handy...

bodare2 - The new king of predictions is you! I've certainly been dropping some hints as to what is coming to Ubrora...

A/N - So do not adjust your internet browsers, we are starting this chapter off with a totally new character on a totally new setting...but you'll see why he's of importance in the chapter. I'll expand some more in my plans for this book in the next chapter's authors notes.

Please enjoy the next chapter!

Chapter 21: Plans in Motion

General Pravin Ecalt leaned back in his chair reviewed the data on his datapad one last time. Satisfied that he was prepared as he could be, he walked out of his handsomely appointed quarters on Reprisal and to a meeting that he did not want to attend. He had spent better part of the last week trying to come up with some sort of escape plan, but he hadn't been able to come up with a plan that even had a reasonable chance of success. To be honest, he feared for his life, but he had found no alternative but to push forward and look for the first chance to get out of this nightmare.

The Reprisal was a Lucrehulk-class battleship, formerly contracted to the Trade Federation's military branch. When contracted to the Trade Federation, the ship's name had been Starways Defender. It's mission had been to escort and protect Trade Federation convoys that treaded through dangerous areas of space. Yet after the catastrophic battle of Naboo, the Republic had demanded that every Lucrehulk-class ship owned by the Trade Federation report for decommissioning or disarmament, but the commander of this particular ship, the Duros Vash Varless, had defied the order, proclaimed himself Admiral Varless and gone rogue, renaming the ship Reprisal. They had spent the last few months as one ship pirate fleet, preying on shipping fleets and making Admiral Varless a rich man. A wanted man, but a rich man. But the Duros had grander plans than just being a pirate. No, Admiral Varless wanted to rule. And he was seeking way to make that dream a reality...

Pravin didn't want to rule, he didn't even want to be here. He didn't want to be a pirate. He just wanted to go home. He just didn't see how he could.

He had been born on Noonar to a family of wealthy traders, and while his older siblings had been groomed to take over the family business, he had been given the freedom to pick his career. Even though he had been given this freedom, he had only had one career goal in mind – a job in the military. Even as a youngling, he loved the military, he loved marching in parades, he loved playing with his toy soldiers, and more than anything, he loved reading about military campaigns. He would even make his toy soldiers recreate famous battles. Pravin had wanted to command armies of his own one day, and generously, his parents put him on a path to allow him that dream.

His father's connections got him accepted to one of the best military academies on Cardia, a planet known for producing top-flight tacticians and commanders. Even though he might not have been accepted completely on merit, he had proved over his years on Cardia that he was as good as anyone in his class. Though his friends had mocked him for his posh upbringing and the fact that Pravin himself was not exactly a crack shot or soldier, his tactical nous had ultimately won him the respect of his peers. Little did he know that those simple days were to be the best days in his life.

After graduating, his father's connections helped him once again as they got him his first job. There was a brushfire war on the backwater world of Talit IV, and the mining companies on planet desperately needed qualified leaders to train and lead their troops against a local insurrection. He had been commissioned with the rank of Lieutenant and placed in charge of a brigade of the smelliest, most useless troops in the galaxy. The transition from the world of Cardia where military discipline was the standard, to Talit IV where his 'troops' treated him with the barest of respect was a tough one.

Nonetheless, through hard work and patience, he turned his brigade from free-firing yahoos into disciplined troops in a matter of weeks. His commanding officer, a grizzled veteran of a hundred different conflicts had been impressed and ordered his brigade into battle. That was where Pravin discovered something very important about himself.

He, Pravin Ecalt, was a coward.

Despite studying thousands of different conflicts, Pravin had the idea that a battle was a clean, gentlemanly affair. There were rules to combat nd those rules were followed even in the harshest of conditions. He had been naïve…so naïve. What the textbooks never reveal is how a battlefield looks, smells..and feels... He remembered the blood…not even on the battlefield yet, he had seen the tracks of blood left behind by wounded troops as they retreated to the rear echelons. The chaos and noise of the battlefield was just so overwhelming, it was just an assault on his senses. The boy that had run his toy troops through many mock battles finally came to a real battlefield, and he found that he did not like it at all. He had led his troops from the front of course, but when the time had come to attack, his voice, his courage had failed. Instead of attacking when commanded, he had slunk away from the front, sold all his equipment and snuck off planet in disgrace.

He should have been ruined by what had happened on Talit IV, but there was nothing that his father could not repair. His father had recently begun selling goods to the Trade Federation and he had learned that they were looking for experienced soldiers to oversee their new droid army, and his father had recommended him for a commission. Pravin's resume looked good on paper, he had recommendations from his colleagues from Cardia, he had experience in fighting on Talit IV, and he was from an influential merchant family. After a short interview, he had been accepted into the Trade Federation Defence Force. Yes, the odds somehow were still in Pravin Ecalt's favour.

Being a part of the Trade Federation's military branch had been a godsend. He never had to set foot on a battlefield or imperil himself in any way, after all that was what the droids were for! His forte was tactics and though he despised how badly the OOM series battle droids performed, they never questioned orders, they responded as compliantly as the toys he used to play with.

It had generally been a very boring job, but one that he was happy with. It paid well. He got to see many different planets, and he generally felt like he was doing a service to the galaxy. Sure, people didn't like the Trade Federation, but everyone wanted to tear down corporations that became successful, that was just how people thought. Politicians thought it was ludicrous that the Trade Federation had its own military, but those politicians never traded on routes that were constantly patrolled by pirate fleets. The Trade Federation was a business, it needed an army to protect itself, and so they bought themselves one, even though it affected their bottom line.

Or, that was what he thought until the blockade of Naboo.

Whichever idiot had decided that the best way to deal with a trade dispute was to blockade the out-of- the way world of Naboo should have probably been put in an escape pod and released above an uninhabited planet, he thought. Not only did the blockade make the Trade Federation look like monsters, it was a completely idiotic idea. Did they really think that the Republic was too busy to notice one of its member worlds being invaded? The Republic might be too self-interested for its own good, but even the corrupt politicians of the Senate could see that if an invasion of Naboo could be successful – their planet might be next. And no politician wanted to see their planet invaded…not because they cared for the welfare of their people, but because they would see their power lessened considerably.

So not only was it a stupid idea that couldn't have possibly worked, the Trade Federation had also managed to lose in a totally humiliating fashion to a bunch of rag-tag Starfighters, and some Gungans with weapons that seemed to have been from thousands of years ago. How was that even remotely possible? Droids might not have been the best fighters, but they had strength in numbers, yet they had not managed to bring those numbers to bear. The only conclusion that Pravin could reach was that someone with an ego that was bigger than their brain decided to order the blockade, and he was glad that the person responsible was likely dead, or at least in disgrace.

The irony was not lost on him that he was going to a meeting where he would be initiating something worse than just a blockade.

He entered the executive boardroom of the Reprisal at the appointed time, not at all surprised to see that he was the first to arrive, he had always been a stickler for such things. The other members of the Reprisal's leadership...not so much. A silver protocol droid greeted him and led him to his seat where he tried to look busy. Understandably nervous, he pulled at the collar of his Trade Defence Force shirt. Pirate or not, he still dressed the same he had for the past years. And despite the fact that he no longer drew a salary from the Trade Federation, he still considered this to be his uniform.

One by one, Nemoidians entered the boardroom, and Pravin buried his head in his datapad so he could conceal his disgust. He preferred the company of his droids to these Nemoidians, not that he wished to tar an entire species with the same brush, he was sure there were some decent Nemoidians somewhere, but those that remained on the Reprisal were those that attached themselves to Admiral Varless' star without being coerced. He had overheard enough of their conversations to know that they were just trying to line their pockets as much as possible. For that reason, he would continue to despise them. Perhaps because he had grown up in a family of means, he saw no reason to live his life where the only thing you were doing was getting rich. Where was the honor in that?

Once all the other Nemoidians had filed in and taken their seats at the circular table, Admiral Varless walked in. Always one to make an entrance, Varless had chosen to wear a custom made all white-Admiral's uniform that made his blue skin and pitiless red eyes stand out even more than they usually did. Tall with a spindly build, Vash could cut an impressive figure when he wanted to. As far as Pravin was aware, Vash Varless had spent his entire life in the Trade Defence Force, but he had taken to his new life as an outlaw with extreme gusto. Freed from the rules of civilized society, beings that had no use to him had a funny way of 'disappearing' (subtext: being pushed out of airlocks.) Pravin was terrified of him, and knew that once his expertise was no longer needed, that he would be made expendable as well. So he had made himself conspicuously supportive of any motion proposed by the Duros, lest he lose his head unexpectedly.

There was no honor in dying pointlessly. At least that was how he got himself to sleep at night.

The room was silent for the Admiral who walked to the head of the table and affixed each occupant with a fierce stare. "Tomorrow we begin operation Final Effort, and so this is a final run through for what is going to happen. Before we start, are there any questions?"

No one dared ask a question. Pravin had always been taught that a good officer would always consider the advice of his junior officers. For there was no military commander in history that could know everything, and sometimes a different perspective was needed. Pravin Ecalt subscribed to that theory. Vash Varless did not.

The Admiral in the pristine white uniform paced, "As you all know, we have been waiting to find a planet that we could, ah, liberate with the resources that we have at our disposal. I was beginning to think that we'd never find one!" Nervous laughter echoed through the room, Vash Varless knew how to play to his audience when it suited him, and he seemed to be in a magnanimous mood today. Tomorrow could be a very different story.

"Ubrora, such an out of the way little world, who knew it could be so rich and so ripe for the taking?" Vash shook his head, "If only they had the good sense to join the Republic, or form defence treaties with their neighboring planets, or had a competent military. Then we'd have no chance of doing what we are about to do with them. I actually think they want to be conquered!" The laughs this time are a little less forced, though Pravin occupied himself by re-reading his notes instead of playing along. War wasn't anything to be laughing about.

"Fexis, who is our contact on the ground?" the Admiral asked one of the Neimoidians, Pravin hadn't really bothered to learn any of their names. Not because he was speciest, but because all the Neimoidians he had met were shameless lickspittles.

"The mayor of the capital, Murgo Bokiana is friendly to our advances, as we have been friendly to his bank account."

"And this native can be trusted?" asked Vash.

The Neimoidian nodded "He is an ambitious politician, he wants nothing more than to be President of Ubrora, and if he has to do so on the back of our army, then he will do so."

Pravin, his head buried in his datapad, rolled his eyes discreetly. Bribing politicians was fundamentally useless. The only thing crooked politicians could be counted on was that they would always want more money, more favours. Power wasn't enough. Money wasn't enough. It never was.

Pravin listened to the briefing progress with half a mind. Finally, Vash took notice of him, "Good, Pravin, tell us how we are going to make Murgo Bokiana President of Ubrora."

He took a minute to find his voice, "We will land with our full complement of droids, approximately one-hundred thousand OOM series droids, one hundred AAT battle tanks and fifty droidekas. Our planned landing spot is near the western city of Gamudo. We will occupy that city, set up camp in the area, and send out small contingents with an administrator to subdue the three other cities. My plan is to keep the army together and react to opposition if and when it comes. I expect their army will try to stop us at some point, though I estimate that there is a good chance they will surrender just after our landing."

"And can they stop us?"

"No," he said flatly, "All estimates of the Ubroran army are that it is professional, but small, and ill-equipped to face our droid army. Assuming we gain air superiority as you promised, Admiral, I expect that hostilities will last a week at most." Pravin knew that he was being extrodinarily cautious with his estimates. He didn't think that the Ubrorans would offer battle at all - it would simply be suicide.

Vash turned on his heel, "Exactly what I wanted to hear! And then we will simply make Murgo Boikana President of Ubrora, who will sign a treaty legitimizing our invasion and give us the validity we need to negotiate with any party we so choose. We will modernize Ubrora, bring in immigrants to farm the land that the Ubrorans have left fallow, and reap massive profits. From there, once Ubrora is the economic powerhouse it can become, we could even add another world or two to our collection." The Duros' greedy smile plays across his face and it is echoed by every one of the Neimoidians, but not Pravin's.

"And you can guarantee me air superiority for the duration of this conflict, Admiral Varless?" he asked, aware that he was taking his life in his hands just by asking the question.

"Are you questioning me, General Ecalt?" the Duros replies in a low, threatening tone.

He forced a casual seeming shrug, "No, sir. I just wanted to point out that my plans were made with a guarantee of freedom of movement. I know we had to sell quite a few of our droid fighters as we could no longer afford their upkeep, and we sold many to afford the new communications jammer that we bought. I was just wondering if we had enough to subdue the Ubroran starfighters."

"The Starfighters that the Ubrorans have are pathetic. I will crush their little fleet on the first day, leaving enough fighters in reserve that any ships that launch from the surface cannot escape. No message will escape Ubrora until the planet submits to us."

"And you are sure that the communications jammer will block any transmissions from the planet."

Vash growled, "I have been assured as much. The Ubrorans do not posses the technology to defeat the jamming. So there will be no chance of anyone putting out a call for help. That means we will have full control over what happens on the planet.

"Understood sir, I look forward to seeing it."

"A last reminder, the plan is to not damage Ubrora any more than is necessary. After all, we don't want to damage something we will soon own!"

Laughter again echoes around the room, and Pravin again wonders if should have tried to use an escape pod weeks ago. He would rather be anywhere in the galaxy but here. Well, maybe not on Ubrora. He felt bad for the native population, but it was either fulfill his orders or die, and did not yet want to die.

The meeting adjourned after a few more minutes of discussion and Pravin went back to his room, a room where he could ignore what he was going to do tomorrow. He re-checked his gear that he would be bringing to the surface, a habit instilled on him in his time on Cardia. Pravin Ecalt may have been a coward, but he was not stupid. No, he had an insurance policy, but one he hoped he would never have to use, after all he liked living, even in circumstances such as these.