Chapter 5

The Great Operation Begins

LST-7682

There was an unusual amount of clamor echoing about the vast hold of the Butterfly transport as the huge vessel jolted into Hyperspace with the rest of the UNS fleet. All around, ground crews were hastily making last minute checks and adjustments to their hardware before it would be put to the test. For much of the equipment, this coming action was to be its trial by fire, for the crews whose lives depended on the hardware, these checks could be life saving.

LST-7682 was a German flag landing ship assigned to the 1st Allied Expeditionary Fleet, currently making its way down the Great Kashyyyk Branch, bearing down on the system whose name gave the Hyperspace Lane its name. Since the attack on Ursa days earlier, the UNS had rushed to fully mobilize for a conflict that they were only too ready to engage in. All the forces that the UNS could muster were assembled and split into two fleets. The 2nd Expeditionary Fleet was under SACPERL's command, and was responsible for protecting the UNS's northern flank. Their assignment was to patrol down the Perlinean Route to capture the systems there. All of the worlds there were Separatist and UNS friendly, and it was expected to be a bloodless venture. They were then to smash the small Republic outpost on Lantilles, and garrison there to fortify the Solian lines.

The 1st Expeditionary Fleet was by far the larger of the two and was assigned a much more daunting task. It was assembled at Ursa, taking advantage of all the assets that had already been sent there in the wake of the attack. The 1st Expeditionary Fleet was tasked with quickly seizing the Bimmisaari and Charros systems to shore up the UNS lines, then push onward to smash the Republic garrison on Kashyyyk.

The majority of the UNS's surviving Limas were assigned to the 1st Expeditionary Fleet, and were escorting the veritable swarm of Butterflies, built on lease from the Trade Federation. While the Navy would be tasked with securing the void over Kashyyyk, it was the thousands of soldiers hunkered within the Butterflies who would be taking the planet.

Within LST-7682, roughly two hundred tanks of the 21st Panzer Brigade assigned to the mighty 1st Panzer Division of the Bundeswehr sat densely packed, waiting to finally see action for the first time in their service histories. The armored complement was made entirely of Leopard 2A7 main battle tanks, the armored spine of the German army, but they were not the only tanks in the hold. Lurking among the big cats was a vehicle that did not quite fit in with the rest.

It had the hull of the long obsolete Leopard 1, but its turret was something else entirely. Instead of the 105mm L7A3 L/52 cannon and the low and angular turret, there sat a tall boxy, boxy contraption with two 35mm autocannons, several Stinger missiles, and topped with a concave S-Band surveillance radar. This was Flakpanzer Gepard, and for the past year, it had been her charge.

She was First Lieutenant Elsa Valentiner, German Army. She had a slim frame and was on the shorter side, as was typical for a tanker. She had pale skin, blue eyes, and blond hair pulled neatly into a tight bun beneath her green beret.

Valentiner strode quickly through the maze of tanks towards her steed, seeking to fill her crew in on the officers' briefing she had just been dismissed from. All around her, preparations were underway for the coming storm. A clatter, a shout, and a flurry of movement to her right gave her pause, and she glanced over to see cooler lying askew on the deck, its contents free and rolling as the specialist who dropped it hurried to recover it and return it to his tank.

Excitement and frayed nerves led to mistakes, and Valentiner was not about to let either overcome her. She squeezed her hands behind her back, and hurried on, finally approaching the Gepard.

"There you are, you beautiful beast," Valentiner gave a thin smile and whispered to herself as her vehicle came into view.

At present, her crew was laboring away with several rolls of thick camouflage netting, designed to blend in with their jungle destination. The netting was wrapped tightly around the chassis and most of the turret, and all that remained was the delicate equipment atop the turret.

"Leave it," Valetiner ordered as her gunner tried in vain to find a way to wrap the base of the radar.

"Madam," SPC Rudolf Topp saluted quickly, clambering down from the top of the tank, followed by the driver, SSG Anton Eismann who mirrored his salute.

"Don't risk interfering with the radar," Valentiner stated, "I don't want to have to climb out to untangle anything during combat."

"Ja, Madam."

"And don't worry too much about the camouflage," Valentiner smiled thinly, "We're going to be hiding behind these jokers," she gestured to the Leos around them, "Right Michael?"

"Of course, Lieutenant Valentiner," Lieutenant Michael Koch slid off the chassis of his tank, "Don't worry gentlemen, Schlachtross here will shield your brick from the shinies, you just keep the skies clear"

"Ja, Lieutenant!" her two crewmen affirmed enthusiastically.

"We'll keep the skies clear for ya," Valentiner patted her friend's shoulder playfully, "No leave me alone, lustmolch, I have to brief my crew."

"See you around, Lieutenant," Kock laughed, then climbed back up and into his tank.

Turning back to her crew, Valentiner produced a slip of paper from the pack pocket of her camouflage fatigues. Unfolding it against the side skirt of the Gepard, which revealed itself as a map of their target.

"Listen up, this is the plan," Valentiner said seriously as Topp and Eismann crowded in beside her, "This," she pointed to a large section on the top of the map circled in red, "This is Kachirho, and our landing site is here, Hammer Beach. This is our target. We will be landing here," she gestured to one of many blue Xs much lower on the map, "This is a huge clearing where a battle took place between the CIS and the Republic earlier in the war. We'll land there with the Yanks and the Japanese. There, we will disembark from the Butterfly, and load onto American river barges, which will float us down the river to Hammer Beach."

"Float us down the river?" Respectfully Madam, there's easier ways to send us to the afterlife," Topp commented.

"We'll be under heavy air cover, and artillery will be placed on these mountains," Valentiner pointed to several peaks along the river near the beach, "The clones will be under continuous shelling as we make our approach, and the flyboys will be giving them hell too. Trust the process, boys, and we'll get through."

"We're the assigned air cover for the 921st Jäger Company," Valentiner went on, "So our job is to keep the skies clear for these shit cans," she gestured to the Leopard 2s around them.

"We're storming the beach, Madam?" Topp confirmed somewhat apprehensively, adjusting his beret with shaky hands.

"Ja, we're storming the beach."

Invisible Hand

As the crippled battlecruiser lumbered its way into Hyperspace, General Grievous remained on the bridge, clawed hands clasped firmly behind his back, beneath the flow of his cape. In his damaged brain, the cyborg warlord continuously contemplated his situation.

Despite the Coruscant raid's success and the death of the hated Chancellor, the Confederacy was not out of the woods. Since the Confederate high tide eighteen months earlier, things had steadily turned against the general, and everything was in immediate danger of crashing down. The Confederacy had lost vital momentum in their string of recent defeats, and more importantly, key systems were falling to the clone advance.

Truly, everything had gone to bits after the loss of Geonosis. While the bothersome insect annoyed Grievous to no end, the General had to admit that the resources he and his kind brought to the Confederacy were considerable. The factories on Geonosis had added considerable material to the Confederate war machine, and more importantly, the brilliant bug inventors had produced some of the Confederacy's most significant weapons. From Malevolence to the super tank, both regrettably lost, the Geonosians were an asset sorely missed by the Confederate military. With the fall of Geonosis, everything had started going wrong. System after system fell, and now the Confederate core was threatened, and vital worlds were under siege. Unless something dramatic changed, the clones would reach Raxus within the year, and the war would be over.

We need to regain ground and momentum… curse it all, we need time

Time was a commodity that Grievous had not been afforded since the fall of Geonosis. The loss after loss that followed that debacle was the reason the Confederacy was in the situation it was in now. This is what the Coruscant raid was supposed to give Grievous: time and space to regain the momentum, and begin the drive back against the Republic. In the short term, the raid had not accomplished that goal, as the sieges were still underway with no sign of halting, but it had still produced results.

For the most part, the Republic seemed frozen, caught in the shock of the death of their leader. Battlegroups poised for further attacks remained still at their moorings as if the order to attack was never given. New attacks were not made, as if the death of the Chancellor had caused them to willingly give up the initiative.

And that is my opportunity. Republic dogs, there's blood in the water but they're too beaten by their old master to seize it. Now the old fool is dead and they're lost.

Of course, there was one move the Republic had made. An error. A critical misjudgement in their moment of weakness following the death of their dear dictator. The Republic had made a desperate attack to save face, striking against the UNS. Grievous had paused at Kijimi because his forces were out of reach from the Republic there. They'd never break through Vjun or Nimban in time, and no one would be idiotic enough to provoke another regional power in their situation.

But alas, they had. The clones had mobilized their available forces on Kashyyyk, then struck against the UNS at Ursa. Grievous supposed the plan was to push through the backwards skinbags to attack him over Kijimi, but the UNS was evidently not the pushover they were expected to be. To the galaxy's surprise and even to Grievous, the UNS had not only repulsed a superior Republic attack force, but annihilated them nearly completely. Now the Solians were at war with the Republic, and Grievous had been handed a powerful new ally.

Invisible Hand was enroute to Raxus at that very moment so that Grievous could meet with the UNS president and hopefully admit them into the Confederacy. Grievous had seen the footage from the battle, as well as the propaganda that the UNS was churning out, and the cyborg was willing to admit, if only to himself, that he had underestimated them. Dooku had been wise enough to see their worth early on, but now Grievous shared that view.

They can more than make up for what was lost at Geonosis.

"Captain," Grievous growled, startling Captain Dofine out of his stupor, "You money grubbing Neimoidians must keep tabs on your rivals, so tell me, what kind of industrial output are the Solians capable of."

"Ahh," Dofine stepped forward and smiled, "You're thinking of our new likely allies. It is quite the blessing those Republic fools have given us by provoking them."

"Yes, yes," Grievous snapped impatiently, turning away from the viewport with a whip of his cape, "I want to know how much they can offer us."

"They're a regional power," Dofine stated, "Their industrial outreach is considerable through their state owned company, Proxima Heavy Industries. They're probably similar to the Geonosians or Techno Union in production output, though in wartime their economy is untested, so their ceiling remains to be seen. If we can get them onboard, they should make up for recent losses."

"I look forward to meeting this President Jameson," Grievous answered, then gave a hacking cough, "Given the well known UNS grievances, I'm sure we can see eye to eye, human scum or not. You have the ship, Captain, I have the High Command Council to attend. Inform me of any developments."

Dofine bobbed his head as General Grievous stalked off of the bridge followed by two MagnaGuards, clawed feet echoing across the chamber. The trip to his personal communications chamber was short, and the door was soon sliding open as he and his entourage marched past the emotionless B1s standing guard outside.

Grievous doubled over with another bout of coughs as halted in front of his holotable, drawing himself up to full height as he pressed a button and called the meeting to session. Moments later, blue holograms winked to life all around the large, circular table as the Confederate High Command made their appearances. At the center of the table was a hologram of the galaxy, with the CIS in blue, the Republic in red, neutral space in gray, and the UNS in purple.

Around the table, ten seasoned commanders all turned to the General, waiting for him to start things off. Leaning forward and placing both hands on the table, Grievous brought the meeting to session, "Report. There've been major developments since I returned from the raid. Explain."

"The warmbloods have lost their nerve," a raspy, reptilian voice belonging to the male Trandoshan Admiral Travossk hissed, "The Republic was making an intense push against the militia and droid forces under my command on Celanon. When the news broke, the fools lost their nerve and I was able to press the counterattack. We broke the siege and destroyed what clones we could before the could make a retreat, finishing off the last stragglers this morning. I now have a second Jedi head on my wall. Celanon is secure, General, as the path further along the Hydian Way is blocked. I intend to push onwards to Hijado by tomorrow morning at the latest."

Excellent, more good news.

General Grievous respected Trandoshans more than most meatbags. They had a hunter's instincts, and for the few who could keep their bloodlust in check, they made very tactful and effective commanders. Luckily, Travossk was one of those few.

"Push the attack," Grievous ordered, narrowing his eyes at the map, "We need to gain ground now, while the Republic is reeling."

"The Republic went through with their attack on Felucia," a voice General Grievous did not recognize spoke up. Whipping his head around, Grievous found himself looking at a male Karkarodon who looked much too young to be in command.

"Who're you?" Grievous snapped irritably, "Where is Admiral Taulay?"

"Taulay is dead," the Karkarodon reported flatly, ignoring Grievous's ire, "Her Lucrehulk went up when the clones attacked. The 327th Star Corps broke through our fleet and made landfall. The fight is in the balance."

"Curse it all," Grievous growled, clawed feet biting into the ground with irritation, "Another siege to break. If they take Felucia, the CIS will be all but cut in half. We cannot allow that, Admiral…"

"Tyberos, and its Vice Admiral," the Karkarodon responded flatly, as Grievous blinked. Aren't Karkarodons known for their tempers? This guy might as well be a tactical droid.

"Admiral now, toothy," Grievous barked, irritation flaring as another bout of coughs struck him. The Karkarodon accepted his promotion with a mere nod. When he recovered, Grievous growled, "Break that siege, Admiral, that's an order."

"General, I can't guarantee that right now," Admiral Tyberos responded monotonously, pure black eyes unblinking and unnerving, "I lack the ships to break Jedi Secura's fleet, and my forces planetside are giving their all to hold ground. I can hold this world for the time being, but I will need reinforcements to break them. If I could be afforded just a few more battlecruisers-"

"We don't have ships to spare!" Grievous interrupted furiously, clawed feet biting into the deck as his eye developed a tick, "We don't have ships to spare, we don't have armies to spare, we don't have resources to spare, damn it all, we don't have time to spare! Break Aayla Secura, or make way for someone who can."

"If those are your orders, then you can expect my resignation," Tyberos replied in a tired voice, "But know this, General, anyone who is placed in my position and gives you a different answer is lying. Confirm it with the tactical droids if you must. The only way that I can beat Jedi Secura and her clones with the resources I have would be if she made a mistake. General, to rely on an enemy's error is to play 'hope chess' as the Solians call it. I do not play hope chess. Jedi or not, we both know that Secura is a seasoned commander. There will be no mistakes from her. Dispose of me if you will, General, but that reality remains."

Insolent whelp! How dare he lecture me, that wet slimy fish! No one speaks back to me! And yet… he's right, and of all my commanders, this new blood has the spine to say it to my face. I'll keep this one around…

Grievous used a coughing fit to cover his moment of thought, then rasped his answer, "Remain at your post, Admiral Tyberos, keep those pesky clones grinding away on Felucia for as long as you can, and we'll send support to smash through Secura's forces when we have them to spare."

"As for the rest of you, stop dying," Grievous snapped, sweeping his gaze across the group to ensure he was not jesting, "That is an order. We struck a dire blow against our enemies at Coruscant, but that does not change the fact that we are on our last legs. We're behind the Republic in production, and too many important worlds have been yanked from our grasp. We've lost too many ships, too many droids, and too many systems, we can't afford to lose our leadership too. So stop dying."

The room went silent for a few moments, as Grievous let them all process that information. Some might take such words as compliments, but his commanders were not so foolish. Grievous ran a strict meritocracy in his chain of command, and with Dooku out of the way, that would be the new standard. Commanders like these were a commodity in a time when Grievous was short on commodities. The Confederacy could not afford to lose them too.

"We need a new grand strategy," the Neimoidian Admiral Welline broke the silence.

"Indeed," Grievous nodded, glad to advance the conversation to the topic that he had been meaning to discuss during this meeting, "The Coruscant raid was a major victory for us. That frail old meatsack that some called tyrant is gone, and the bleeding heart idiots in the Republic are reeling. We needed this victory and by the stars, we got it, but we must act if we are to capitalize on it. Our logistical situation is atrocious right now, and has been for some months. I intend to change that, so that we might even the odds with those Republic dogs."

Grievous paused for a moment, leaning forward onto his clawed hands, "The Republic are rattled, shaken, and have foolishly offered us the initiative. We will seize it with a renewed offensive whose objective will be the recapturing of some key production worlds, as well as shoring up and shortening our lines. We don't have a lot of resources available, so we will need to choose our targets with care. This is what I've come up with," Grievous pressed a button and the map zoomed into the eastern edge.

"Felucia is a problem," Grievous went on, eyes sweeping over to Admiral Tyberos, "We cannot push outwards while the Republic splits us in two. Admiral Altray," Grievous gestured to a Devaronian male across the table, "Leave the minimal force necessary to hold your garrison, then join up with Admiral Tyberos on Felucia, a second fleet should be more than enough to counter the 327th. Once Secura is dealt with, push onwards. One of you will go down the Salin Corridor, and the other will navigate the back routes along the Tierrel-Junction Loop, both of you aiming for Botajef. Admiral Travossk," Grievous addressed the Trandoshan, "Once you have taken Hijado, trace the Tierrel-Junction Loop to meet them halfway, trapping any Republic scum you find there. Once the Yavin Sector is clear, move against Botajef. You will be overkill for them. Once Botajef falls, contact me before pressing onwards, your mission is to shorten our lines and eliminate the Republic spear down our midsection, and when your mission is complete, you will be needed elsewhere."

"As for the rest of you," Grievous swept his gaze across them, "We will address our logistics. Admiral Nera," Grievous addressed the Emberlener, "Smash the squid lipped scum on Mon Calamari, I want them building ships for the Confederacy, not our enemies. If the Prince won't cooperate, then replace him with someone who will."

The Emberlener nodded her head in acknowledgement as Grievous continued, finishing out his instructions to the rest of his Admirals. At the moment, Mon Calamari was the first big prize, with the Yavin Sector being the biggest action, and hopefully drawing the Republic's attention. The rest of the Admirals would be making small moves to shore up the defense lines, and prepare for the future operations that Grievous already had in mind. The Corporate Sector was Grievous's next target, but those neutral worlds didn't need to know that just yet.

"What of the Solians?" Admiral Travossk inquired, tipping his head in that strange reptilian way of his.

He's thinking of Trandosha… selfish git.

"I am enroute to Raxus to meet with the Solian President at this very moment," Grievous answered, leaning away from the table to begin pacing, hands clasped firmly beneath his cloak, "I will persuade them to join our cause. In the meantime, I don't expect them to sit on their hands and do nothing. They are moving against Kashyyyk, I am certain of it. Worry not, lizardman, Trandosha will soon be back in our grasp."

"How can you be sure?" Admiral Nera demanded, earning her a glare from Grievous. Emberleners never change, do they? Thick headed slimemonger, she's lucky she's as sharp as she is

"Bimmisaari and Charros IV have been taken, as has much of the Perlinean Route," Grievous answered irritably, holding the dark haired Emberlener in his glare, "They're protecting their flanks before they chase the Republic back to Kashyyyk, it's the only move that makes sense for them right now."

"And why are you meeting with their President?" Altray interjected, "Respectfully General, isn't that usually Count Dooku's domain?"

Ahhh, there it is. I was meaning to do this at the end, but…

"Are you all alone?" Grievous instead asked the group, eyes lingering on each of them as they nodded. Such a question was not unusual for these meetings, but glancing eyes and suspicious looks confirmed Grievous's suspicions that many of them had already begun connecting the dots in the time since the raid. Well they're not my high command for nothing.

"Count Dooku is dead," Grievous reported flatly, his suspicions confirmed as none of the Admirals appeared particularly shocked or surprised, "Skywalker decapitated him on the observation deck of Invisible Hand just as I entered. The old fool was arrogant in facing two Jedi alone, and paid the price for it. In any case, that information does not receive this room until I expressly allow it, am I clear?"

Grievous paused for another harsh coughing fit as each Admiral nodded their approval. When he regained control, Grievous went on, "I am in charge of the Confederacy now. The spineless executives don't like it, but they don't matter anymore. I am not the Count. The arrangement has changed," Grievous watched all of his commanders closely as he continued, "The executives are losing their nerve for this war. There may come a time when one or several of them try to betray the Confederacy to save their own skin. You would do well to remember that your allegiance is to the Confederacy first, all else is secondary."

There was another pause as Grievous looked over them, watchful for any sign of treachery. After a moment, Admiral Tyberos spoke up in his usual, tired voice, "I can only speak for myself, General, but I will voice my stance. From birth, I have been a soldier. Now, I'm a soldier in a war. I could care less about the Trade Federation, I'm here for Karkaris and for the Confederacy. There will be no treachery in my fleet, regardless of what corporate has to say. As far as I'm concerned, this is the chain of command, not the Federation nonsense. I take orders from you, and you alone."

"If nothing else, a Neimoidian knows how to pick sides," Altray offered some unusual Neimoidian humor, "I've been with the Trade Federation long enough to know how this works. If the Trade Federation flips, it'll be our heads on the chopping block, to cover for Gunray and his purse. I choose the Confederacy."

A humorous Neimoidian and collected Karkarodon, I've seen it all…

"Aye," Travossk agreed, lips curling into a chilling smile, "The Commerce Guild might hold the money, but we're the ones holding the guns."

"Don't look at me," Nera barked as Grievous's gaze swept over to her, "You know Emberlene is here on ideology alone. We were suffering under the Republic just like the rest of you. We're here to the bloody end."

"And the rest of you?" Grievous stood up to his full height, "If any of you are having second thoughts, this is your one opportunity to be honest, and not be punished for it. You can retire with your full pension, and never see me again. The Confederacy, or your corporation?"

This statement earned more surprise than anything else this meeting, as several heads swiveled in surprise and confusion, and even Grievous himself was surprised. What in blooded sands was that? What am I saying? Weakness! I am being weak! No, I'm being honorable, and ensuring I am surrounded by supporters and strong commanders. Who even am I anymore?

Memories of something strange suddenly flashed through Grievous's head. A field of warriors, weapons raised and chanting his name, a name he no longer remembered. What was it? The moment the memory passed, the name was lost, and Grievous was left with confusion and the memory of the warriors.

"We choose the Confederacy," the remaining Admirals affirmed, snapping Grievous back to reality.

Excellent, another step forward. Two can play at this game, executives. You might think of me as your tool, but don't forget who my mentor was. I can maneuver too…

Grievous was fully aware that at least a portion of his commanders were lying to him. Most of them had been cutthroat corporate captains in the days before the Confederacy, and their allegiances were as fickle as the wind. Even so, the General was not overly concerned. He didn't need all of them, if the executives made a move against him at some point, he only needed one.

"Excellent," General Grievous growled, stepping back from the holotable, "I will expect your absolute loyalty in the days ahead. Anything short of that will earn you a slow and painful death. Remember, you are indispensable, but not that indispensable. Report to me with any developments. Dismissed."

With that, the meeting was terminated, leaving Grievous in a room bathed in darkness. He remained there for a moment, lost in thought. Perhaps I'm being paranoid about a coup. No… the opulent slimes are as stupid as they are cowardly, they could try anything at any time… and if not, they'll still have to be dealt with regardless…

I-237

The Republic fleet that hovered in the void over Kashyyyk was forminable, the largest Republic force in several Parsecs, but even this most daunting of shields was not without weakness. The repositioned Republic fleet was positioned in preparation for the UNS strike that was all but certain to come, but therein lurked its flaw. It was prepared for a fleet-scale assault, not a stealth craft insertion.

I-237 was an infiltrator, a new class of ships pioneered by the UNS in the last five years. Inspired by the submarines of the wet-water navy, infiltrators were designed to fill the same role in the void. They came in two distinct variants, the first were ballistic missile infiltrators, or 'Boomers,' which were hulking stalkers of the void whose job was to sneak into enemy space undetected and launch their arsenal of either conventional or atomic weapons for a devastating strike against enemy infrastructure. The boomers were few and far between, and I-237 was not of their number. I-237 was of the second class, the hunter-killers. Smaller, faster, and better equipped for direct combat than their big sisters, the hunter-killers' roles were wide, ranging from shipping interdiction to intelligence gathering.

This day, however, I-237 had a different mission, but one she was equally capable of completing. I-237's mission for this sortie was to slip into Kashyyyk orbit undetected, descend into low orbit under the cover of night so that the seven dozen US Army Pathfinders disembark and parachute down into the jungle below, where they were to make contact with Wookie guerrillas fighting against the Republic and their loyalist brethren. Once the Pathfinders departed, I-237 was then to slip back away into the void, where she would lurk in the outer system and gather intelligence on the Republic fleet to best prepare the 1st Expeditionary Fleet for naval combat.

The Republic Fleet remained blissfully unaware as the two hundred meter stealth vessel slipped silently into the atmosphere under the cover of a moonless sky. In the upper atmosphere, I-237's missile tubes opened, but instead of launching munitions, seven dozen US Army Pathfinders emerged onto the deck of the vessel, then made their jump off of the deck.

As soon as the Pathfinders departed, I-237 fired its engines and reversed its own velocity, escaping the atmosphere and quickly donning the stealth cloak of the void before slipping away into the depths of space. Its first mission was complete, but it was merely the opening move in a great game to be played over the next few days.

RSS Salvation

Lila Quorl tried her best to meditate in her quarters aboard her Venator, but with each passing minute, she lost more and more focus. The Force itself was in turmoil, and was difficult to focus on, it had been since the Chosen One died a week earlier. It was as if some cloud over the Force had been lifted, but all that had done was further reveal the degree to which the galaxy was suffering.

That was not helped by Lila's immense guilt over the loss of most of her Legion in the failed invasion of Ursa, days earlier. With each passing day, her guilt was compounded. That mission was doomed to fail from the onset. It was launched without proper reconnaissance, and the results were predictable. Someone up on the Republic chain of command had decided they needed to save face after Coruscant, and this disaster was the result.

There was also the matter of Dedro Mallio. While it had been Admiral Gortheon who had been forced to take the fall for failure at Ursa, Lila knew full well it had been Mallio who was really in charge of the operation. Gortheon had been a decent enough commander, but he had not had enough spine to stop Mallio from pushing him around, and the result was Mallio essentially leading the whole operation. Lila respected him as a Jedi and her superior, but in retrospect, his behavior was worrisome. His emotions had gotten the better of him, and the result was a lot of dead or captured clones.

So many dead clones. Dead friends. People I was responsible for…

Lila shook her head to clear that line of thinking, it was unhealthy and got her nowhere. The pain and shock of the loss had, however, opened her eyes a bit. In hindsight, she was horrified that she had been willing to go along with an invasion of a neutral nation. The UNS was not officially a Separatist nation, nor were they at war with anyone. The Republic had violated their neutrality and launched a war of aggression against them, for what? For the greater good? The Jedi Code did not support such actions. Jedi don't murder unhelpful security guards who are wittingly or unwittingly protecting villains. Every life is sacred in the eyes of the Jedi, Lila recited, and killing is ALWAYS a last resort.

How many people did we murder in that invasion? Those Lucrehulks didn't have droid crews… and to think I admired their determination! They were defending their homes and families from an attack, of course they fought hard!

Lila got to her feet, feeling dizzy and nauseous. The impact of the events on Ursa would not be leaving her any time soon. She wanted more than anything to talk to her former Master, but he was on the other side of the galaxy, fighting the droids Shaum Hii.

Her Master was an outspoken individual, and an oddity in the Jedi Order. He was a Karkarodon, one of only three in the Jedi's history, and despite many rumors to the contrary, he was a strong pacifist. He had refused to join Master Windu's mission to Geonosis, on the grounds that the Jedi were violating their sovereignty and interfering with their internal process. In his mind, Obi Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, and Padme Amidala were rightfully detained. Kenobi should not have been spying, and the others had not been trespassing.

It was a deeply unpopular view that earned him, and by extent, herself a great deal of scorn from their fellow Jedi. He had also spoken strongly against the Clone Army, claiming that the use of manufactured soldiers was immoral, and had refused to lead them for weeks, until finally caving to the pressure. Lila suspected she had been a major part of that. She had not agreed with him on any of those positions, and was tired of all the ridicule she was experiencing as a side effect.

They had not been on good terms since she had received her Knighthood, and she did not remember the last time she had seen or spoke with him. Now though, she desperately wanted his guidance. She suspected he would be able to help her through her own feelings of disillusionment.

With a sigh, Lila got to her feet and left her quarters, making her way to the bridge of the Venator. There she found Commander Hex, who quickly saluted to her, then welcomed her to the bridge.

"Welcome back," he bobbed his head respectfully.

"Has anything changed?" Lila asked, scanning the void of space for an answer to her own question.

"That's a negative," Hex replied, "No sign of any Sepies, and our orders haven't changed."

"That's a relief," Lila sighed, and the bridge fell into its usual silence.

"We're gonna get hit, you know," Hex commented after a moment of silence.

"What do you mean?" Lila inquired, turning away from the viewport to look at him.

"Kashyyyk is going to get hit," Hex answered somberly, sighing before he went on, "It's the Solians' first logical target. The Sepies have Vjun and Nimban locked down tight, and we're in no position to contest that, what with the losses on Ursa and the Coruscant raid. The UNS could go further down the Lesser Lantillian to try to take Onderon, but compared to Kashyyyk that's a small prize. They know we're weak, they have to, and Kashyyyk is too significant of a system to pass up. We're going to get hit."

Before Lila could respond, an alarm suddenly began blaring from one of the bridge crew's stations. Looking up in alarm, the clone shouted, "General, Commander, unknown energy signature detected, upper Kashyyyk orbit!"

"Enhance," Commander Hex ordered immediately.

"I'm losing it fast," the officer reported, but nonetheless, the holoscreen soon blinked into life as it captured the rapidly vanishing signature.

At first, Lila couldn't see anything but as the image came into focus, she was able to make out some details. There, fleeing quickly from Kashyyyk's orbit was a strange vessel the likes of which she had never seen. It was long, cylindrical, and reminiscent of a sea-going torpedo. On the fore end of the vessel there was a rectangular structure which appeared to be a conning tower, with two small wings splitting off of it which seemed to be sensory equipment of some sort. It was smooth, rounded, and painted matte black. It was only visible for a single second before it reached the void and vanished completely, both from the visible spectrum and all the scopes.

"It's gone," the officer reported, "Whatever it was… it's gone from all the sensors, we lost it."

"Separatists?" Lila asked slowly, though her heart was sinking in her chest since she already suspected the real answer.

"Perhaps, but unlikely," Hex responded, "That's an unknown craft, but the design philosophy doesn't align with what the Separatists churn out. Plus, it doesn't make sense for the Sepies to be operating out here. I'd expect to see Sepies around Felucia or Ryloth, but out here the UNS is the alpha nexu."

"What were they doing?" Lila asked, wracking her anxious mind quickly for an explanation, "Surveillance? Sabotage?"

"Maybe, but impossible to know for sure," Hex responded, crossing his arms stoically, "But one thing's for sure, this is only the beginning."

"Alert General Unduli," Lila ordered, raising a hand to her temple as she felt the beginnings of a headache, "We must ready ourselves for what is to come."