Looking for an artist to make a cover for a story of mine. Hit me up if you are interested.
Big thanks to Firehawk1100 and Kuiil for being my betas.
The Battle of Christophsis: Part Two
Trench was bored.
He covered his mouth with his hand, yawning loudly and exaggeratedly.
He was dreadfully bored.
Trench hadn't seen any action since the campaign for Christophsis started, where he decimated the Republic's measly defenses. The enemy sent no reinforcements of any kind to the occupants of the blue planet, practically forgotten by the enemy. General Whorm was making great progress against the tiny pockets of resistance planet-side. His tactical droid, TI-99, estimated the planet would be flying Confederacy colors by the third rotation.
His mission was going to be a dull success.
His red eyes lazily looked upon the droids under his command. There was some chatter among them, strictly business of course. Updates, issuing orders, routine checks.
Boring droids.
Trench would not lie, nor would he ever admit it to another soul, he missed his crew from when he was a part of the Corporate Alliance. When he pledged himself to the Secessionist Movement, he forfeited his position in the conglomerate, and with that, his crew. The old Harch lived for war, but his crew didn't. Unlike him, they had responsibilities to their families. Forsaken a well-paying job to join a war probably wouldn't go over smoothly with their spouses.
Family was a foreign subject that he did not fully comprehend. He understood the concept, and how to exploit said concept to win battles.
His mother was killed during the Andoan Wars, and he had no one special to go home to. War was his lover, a constant in his life. The cold mistress gifted him glory, prestige, and pleasure like no other.
Coquer's smile was wide and proud, but his eyes didn't match the expression. They were sad and looked to be on the verge of shedding tears. He grabbed his hand, giving a hearty farewell shake.
"It was a privilege learning from you, Trench."
Family was a notion Trench didn't completely understand, but a certain young man was making sense of the idea with each passing day they spent talking to one another. Never in his two-hundred years of living, did he picture himself caring for another as much as he did towards Coquer. His relationship with the boy would be the closest he would experience the alien nature known as fatherhood.
Though he was proud of Coquer's accomplishments in the war, deep down, he wished the boy didn't have to participate in it. After their last conversation, when he wasn't making sure the blockade was secure, worry and anxiety engulfed him whole. He wanted to contact Coquer to see if he had improved, but the mission dictate transmissions must be strictly to CIS command only.
The only thing Trench could do now was pray to the goddess, Arachne, that the boy's nightmares had ceased by now.
"Admiral," one of the droids called out. "I'm reading multiple signatures about to come out of hyperspace."
He pushed the thoughts of Coquer in the back of his mind, and hundreds of strategies took its place.
"So reinforcements have finally arrived."
It was just like the Republic to come at the last second to save the day.
"Order all ships to get into battle stations—formation Sigma," Trench dished out his orders coolly. "Activate our thermo-shields—keep a close eye on it. We might need to deactivate them at a moment's notice."
"Sir, should we launch the Vulture droids?" TI-99 asked.
"No," he answered. "I wish to test the mettle of the enemy before destroying them."
Trench was bored. The best way to alleviate said boredom, was turning his foes into smoldering remains of what they once were.
Six starships exited out of hyperspace—three Venator-class star-destroyers and three corvettes.
He chuckled at the sight of the pitiful enemy fleet.
Corvettes were fast and nimble, perfect blockade runners. Blockade or not, to deploy such starships only meant one thing; the delivery of valuable supplies. No doubt for the losing enemy forces down below.
Did the Republic truly think that he, the Admiral Trench, would let a single ship slip past his blockade?
How laughable. The Republic seemed to have forgotten his specialty in the beleaguered art.
"Sir, three enemy ships are breaking from their formation," a droid notified. "It's their corvettes."
Odd. Very odd. "What is their trajectory?"
"One moment." The machine typed on the console it was assigned to. "They're heading behind the planet's moon, sir."
Trench caressed his mandible, mulling over the piece of information.
Interesting. Why would someone send the ships you were obviously ordered to escort away? The enemy could simply want them out of harm's way while their star-destroyers engaged in battle. If that was the case, why even had the corvettes been part of the fleet in the first place? The Republic easily could have them be a jump away, waiting for a signal so they wouldn't risk getting damaged.
The enemy's movements were quite unorthodox. It might be a ploy for an even greater scheme.
"Commence the assault," Trench commanded. "Don't break formation unless I say so."
Whatever the enemy was planning, he won't be able to decipher it by doing nothing.
Let's see how you react, Republic scum.
"Admiral, one of the Republic ships is hailing us."
A mandible twitched. "What?" That was not the kind of reaction he expected.
"Should we accept the transmission?"
This was very unlike any members of the Republic. The enemy usually didn't send a transmission unless they were willing to surrender. It was highly unlikely in this case. The battle just started after all.
"Accept it." He leaned back into his chair.
"Roger, roger."
It only took the droid a second before the transmission between the two warring starships was connected. A large screen popped into view, showcasing a young Togruta female with an orange skin tone. An eyebrow curled up at her appearance.
He could not help but wonder if this was a joke of some kind. The opposer was a mere child! The girl looked to be the same age as Coquer, perhaps younger, and he highly doubted she contained the same level of intelligence as his student. Had the Republic already ran out of soldiers that they were forced to resort to sending children to fight for them?
Pathetic.
"Evening, Admiral Trench. I'm Padawan learner Ahsoka Tano," she introduced herself with a bow of her head. "I've been assigned to lead this task force in eliminating your blockade, with you along with it."
Eliminate his blockade? Eliminate him? What a splendid joke! He didn't know the Jedi were such comedians.
Imagine, a Jedi whelp, barely old enough to get into a bar, defeating him. With three star-destroyers no less!
"I see." He wiped away a tear that broke out from his laughing. "So, what is this? A chance for me to surrender—to reconsider the error of my ways? Are you that afraid to face me, girl?"
"No, not quite. In fact, it's the opposite." He noticed a hint of a smirk playing on her lips. "I'm here to tell you, that there will be no surrender—no retreat. You will be nothing, but a speck of dust in the solar wind."
Trench's many red eyes narrowed. She thought she was being cute for using his infamous words against him? Such obvious attempts to rile him up won't work. He thought the Jedi were beyond such pettiness.
"It seems the Jedi still passed down their haughty arrogance to their younglings," he quipped with a smirk. "I'll make sure to teach you the definition of humility while I crush you into dust."
"And I'll make sure to regale every single detail of your death to Coquer when I hunt him next. Who knows, he might just do my job for me once I tell him." His smirk vanished. His teeth clenched as he growled. "Farewell, Admiral."
The transmission ended, returning the Harch's view to the battle that was happening before him. The Jedi thought she could kill him? That she could kill his student—his boy!
"Order all ships to move and engage the enemy. Divert power to forward cannons!"
"As you wish, Admiral," TI-99 responded.
If the Jedi wanted his ire, then she would get the full brunt of it. She would pay dearly for disrespecting his student.
"Looks like he took the bait," Anakin pointed out.
"Oh, thank the Force," Ahsoka exhaled in a single breath.
She didn't know what she would've done if Trench hadn't. The whole plan hinged on Trench rushing in, thirsty for blood.
"Excellent choice of words, Commander," Yularen praised. "I didn't know you had it in you."
Truthfully, neither did her. It kind of scared her honestly—how easy it was for her mind to conjure up words to goad and threaten Trench. It was very un-Jedi like to conduct in such a manner. She thought her master would disapprove of such tactics. He hadn't. In fact, he encouraged it, praising her for thinking outside the box.
Would her master still act the same way if the real truth about why she was placed in charge came out? Or would he demand her immediate removal from the Order.
The bridge shook and alarms blared. The many voices belonging to the clones overlapped and garbled into a nonsensical mess as they relayed the Resolute's status to the three.
Admiral Yularen somehow made sense of their jumbled words, replying with orders to combat the arising problems.
It was moments like these that she could not help but be in awe at how the admiral handled himself in stressful situations. Admirals of the GAR were picked for a reason, and she could see why.
Will I ever get to be where he is?
"Ahsoka, let's go." Anakin tapped her shoulder as he made his way to the exit. "We need to prepare for the second half of your plan."
That was right. This was her plan. A plan she constructed with the help of her master and the admiral.
She won't be where Yularen was, not yet at least.
This plan though, would help her take the first proper step in doing so.
"Right behind you, Master."
A smile broke out on Trench's face as he watched another explosion erupted on the Republic vessel. That was another hundred clones killed by his hands. Another cruel reminder to the foolish Jedi that she bit off more than she could chew.
He would show the disrespectful Togruta why he was one of the most feared tacticians of their time.
Trench's fleet continued forward, showering the enemy cruisers in a hail of lasers. A trail of smoke emitted from the left Republic star-destroyer as a fire ran wild on its forward starboard side. One of the superstructures of the right cruiser was completely destroyed.
All he had to do was keep pushing and victory would be his.
"Sir, another Republic ship is coming out of light-speed."
Reinforcements? This late into the battle? Was the Jedi's poor performance all an act to stall for time?
No, it mattered not. The three star-destroyers the Jedi came with were heavily damaged and won't put up a fight for much longer. Whatever kind of hero that came to their rescue, would not help delay the inevitable.
Trench's eyes narrowed. "What the...?"
The three crippled ships started changing formation. They all steered to the right, tilting their vessels upward, showing their underbelly to him.
Were they protecting the new starship?
Was it different from the rest of the fleet? Did it carry an experimental weapon or something? Was it an experimental weapon?
This...tactic was nothing Trench ever saw before in all of his years on the battlefield. None of the Jedi he faced in this war utilized anything similar to this strategy.
What the hell is this girl planning?
For the first time in what felt like centuries, Trench was faced with an unknown. A bead of sweat dripped from his eyebrow.
"Divert all power to forward cannons. Destroy those ships!"
The cannons from his ship, the Invincible, flared a bright red as it unleashed hell onto the Republic. Whatever the Jedi was planning for the new star-destroyer that joined the fray, Trench would not wait and stand by for it to come into fruition. It was time to end this.
All cannons hit their mark but left no visible scars. Those blasted Republic scum must have placed all their power to their deflector shields. He was surprised that they had enough juice for the act.
But did they have enough power to withstand a barrage of explosives?
"Fire torpedoes at the center starship."
"Sir, we will have to lower our shields for us to fire," TI-99 warned.
"Then lower them and fire!" he shouted.
The droid turned to the shield's controls. "Lowering shields."
Trench heard the dull whining noise of his shields being lowered. A necessary risk to achieve victory. Torpedoes launched from their silos, all aimed at the designated enemy starship. He could feel the strong rumble of the explosion from the bridge of his ship.
Trench stilled. Muffled sound of the hectic battle outside matched his erratic beating heart. Smoke and debris started to clear, granting him a beauty of a view.
The attack worked, seeing a clear hole through the vessel and with it, the final nail in the Jedi's coffin.
Time to die, Jedi.
"Order all ships to fire their torpedoes at their left and right cruisers. Fire turbolasers—destroy that center shi—"
The bridge shook. Trench widened his stance and bent his knees to combat the sudden tremor. In the corner of his eye, he saw the engine of one of his frigates producing thick black smoke. Another explosion occurred, sending a shockwave in his direction.
His fleet was being attacked, but from where and who? The enemy was right before his eyes, damaged and on their last legs. No feasible way they could launch an assault without him knowing. The droids under his command hadn't picked up any additional enemy reinforcements exiting hyperspace.
The bridge shook violently yet again, deafening alarms pierced his ears. His droids relay to him the damage report: downed hyper drives and heavily damaged engines.
They were practically dead in space, adrift to the mercy of the enemy.
"Activate shields!" Once the Republic realized the upper hand they just gained, they would attack with all they got.
"We cannot," TI-99 replied. "They are still recharging."
Useless machine!
Trench's eyes widened, spotting a silver streak that flew by the bridge. It was brief, but he was able to identify the mysterious object.
A starfighter.
A ship to his right exploded, tore down the middle and engulfed in flames. He saw Republic fighters and bombers flying over the destroyed ship like flies over a fresh corpse.
When did the enemy deploy their fighters? He would've been able to see them launched from their hangar bay, located on top of a Venator-class star-destroyer.
Wait!
Trench sucked a sharp breath of air, his clenched fists trembled.
The purpose of the Jedi's strange maneuver wasn't to defend the newcomer, it was to conceal her deployment of pilots. They lured him in with words of provocation and sold it to him by putting up a terrible fight. The smoke and debris from his earlier attack just further enhanced their surprise attack.
Clever girl.
Trench released his fists and retook his seat with a long sigh.
"Admiral, another ship is destroyed."
"Should we deploy the Vulture fighters?"
"We lost power to our starboard cannons!"
"Sir, your orders!"
Trench closed his eyes, tuning out the ramble of the terrified droids. One of the first things they taught you in any military academy was to know when to accept defeat. It was the hardest lesson for him to learn during his younger years. He hated losing, still did in fact. But when he did taste the bitterness of defeat, he always did so with grace and honor.
The Togruta Jedi—Ahsoka Tano, he believed she referred to herself as—had the makings of a great tactician with the strategy she utilized. The unorthodox always had the scales tipped in their favor, a lesson Coquer took to heart. Trench could not help but wonder who would win in a battle of wits—Ahsoka or Coquer.
He knew they would cross paths in the future. He just wished he would be there to witness it.
"Incoming bomber!"
Till we meet again, Coquer...my son.
A proton bomb launched from the Y-wing and struck the bridge, destroying the structure, leaving only dust to be swept by the solar wind.
Adrenaline pumped through Ahsoka's veins. Her breathing was quick and erratic. She peered over her shoulder, gazing at the smoldering remains of Trench's ship through the canopy of her Y-wing.
She did it.
She killed Trench.
She succeeded in her goal against Coquer. If Miram's analysis was right about the man, he would soon hear about this and be wrecked with doubt and grief. The high pedestal he was on would crash down, and she would finally be the one on top—victorious.
She had dealt a major blow to her enemy—her rival. Her peers would shower her with praise and finally see her worth. She should be happy, ecstatic even.
Ahsoka let go of the flight stick and stared at her trembling hands.
The only thing she felt was a biting chill and the urge to puke her lunch.
"What have I done…?"
Author's Note: The blow has finally been struck and with it the second half begins. Well, the second half of the first year of the war begins. Had a lot of fun writing this and the next few chapters. It was something I had in mind since starting the rewrite.
Like I said above, I'm looking for an artist to draw a cover for my story, Daughter of Serenno. Of course it would be a pay commission.
Till Next Time