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Phase 13

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Part 1

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Observation lounge

Republic cruiser Shinning Light

High orbit above Manda

Manda's planetary system was chock full with SAR and salvage crews. From the cruiser's former bridge they looked like hundreds fireflies dancing without a care in the world. Of course, the truth was very different – the SAR crews were in a race with time to save as many people as possible from the expanding field of wreckage that was the local SDF. The same drama unfolded a few light minutes away, where the GAR fleet stationed here made their own last stand.

Just watching the dancing lights was oddly relacing.

"The reports are ready for you, sir." Piett announced.

He had been waiting for me to acknowledge his presence for a few minutes now, however I was to deep in thought to pay him any attention besides noting his presence.

"Summarize it." I spoke automatically. I couldn't afford another such victory, yet I might not have a choice. We had to break through to Bothawui. Getting there would offer a lot of benefits, even if doing so guaranteed that we couldn't force out way through Republic Space to the east.

"Fifteen frigates of various types, twelve Venator cruisers, two Dreadnought Heavy Cruisers and five locally built – the only thing they have in common is that they possess lighter armament and armour than our ships. The Acclamators are more or less intact. That's what we can take with us if we want our damaged ships we're leaving behind to have a fighting chance in case of a Separatist raid."

"We lost half the fleet either destroyed, out of action or too damaged to risk at Kothlis." I concluded after making the mental math.

"Speaking conservatively, we wiped out more than a Sector Fleet making our way here. By any reasonable measure we did great, sir." Was Firmus trying to convince me or himself? "I need to remind you that you'll be speaking with the Baobab Patriarch in fifteen minutes."

"Do you have a file on the family? They weren't notable the last time I was around."

Piett consulted his data-pad. "They're one of the oldest and wealthiest clans in the galaxy – just a bit over three thousand years going strong. Their most notable achievements are the construction of the Baobab Archives and making the Baobab Merchant Fleet among the largest and most respected in the galaxy. It's just behind the Trade Federation and Commerce Guild in size and prestige."

"That probably has something to do with their SDF fighting to the last." That was the tale told by various surviving records and the only local GAR Venator to emerge somewhat intact from the battle. While it was expected that a SDF would do their best to keep their homeworld safe, it wasn't often that we saw them going to such lengths – using kamikaze tactics against capital ships they couldn't afford to take out conventionally. I wasn't aware of anyone besides the Clones and my own people doing it in this era.

"That's correct, sir." Firmus nodded. "It appears the Baobab family are famous for the support, benefits and pensions they offer veterans of their SDF. It was their investments that saw the planetary defence network being constantly upgraded and modernised. They are also among the primary benefactors to the SDF itself as well. Further, many of the officers serving in the fleet came through the Baobab Merchant Fleet Academy ran by the family."

"They probably serve as crews in the escorts ships keeping the Merchant fleet safe. Baobab practically run Manda, don't they?" I asked. It was only logical.

"Officially? They've got a parliament. Reading between the lines? Marko Baobab is the one that really matters down there." Piett said.

"And he'll be calling in a few minutes. What do we know about him?"

"I've got just a short publically available biography. Without access to the holonet, I couldn't dig anything more, sir. I don't believe that what we have on file will be of much use."

I extended my hand and Piett handed me the data-pad. I scrolled through what we had on the man and concluded that Firmus was right – it was of no real use.

"Good work. Go check how resupply efforts are going – I'll want a report on that once I'm done with Baobab. We won't be staying here any-longer than we have to." Doing so might just give the enemy enough time to scrape another fleet to throw at us and that would be unpleasant.

=RK=

Marko Baobab turned out to be an ancient human man – he looked at least a hundred and change and not in too good a shape. He sat in a life-support chair and had a breath-mask on his weathered face. I could see various scars upon his leathery cheeks and a large one in the centre of his forehead that disappeared under his short silver hair. Despite his age and how frail he appeared, his brown eyes were focused and shone with intelligence. Not a man to underestimate.

"Mister Baobab, General Delkatar Veil, GAR." I offered him a small polite nod and sat down at the table that I tended to use as a substitute office since the Shinning Light became my Flagship.

"General. Marko Baobab." His voice was raspy and he had to pause to gather his breath after every few words he spoke. "I'm grateful for your arrival." He sighed. "While I don't want to seem ungrateful – without you this system would be under uncontested Separatist control right now..." He coughed wetly, "I only wish that you had arrived a few hours earlier. My grandson, Crix, was an officer in our defence fleet. His ship was lost with all hands."

That was less than ideal, especially if the old man decided that I shared some blame for the death of his descendant. Technically that might even be true – we could have come here earlier, though that would have been with ships that haven't received emergency repairs, didn't have full combat loads of ammunition, not to mention that almost a fourth of the fleet would have been left back while it replenished its ammo stocks. Arriving earlier, it might have been enough to make a difference. Or not – it wouldn't be until we could build a comprehensive picture of how the battle went before I could say for sure. The truth was that we did catch the enemy out of position and that allowed us to hit them fast and hard on our terms. If we had to fight the same number of ships, in the same condition we found them but as a cohesive whole, I would have needed to use Battle Meditation to emerge victorious without suffering even worse losses and that was the best case scenario. The truth was we underestimated how many ships the enemy would have at Manda – I don't think Oren lied; probably the CIS reinforced this place since the last time he heard from this system.

"My condolences." The empty platitude slid down my tongue in a way that made it seem genuine.

"Appreciated. What do you intend to do now, General? At this time Manda is defenceless. I must implore you to defend our world."

"I'm afraid that is impossible, Master Baobab. As soon as emergency repairs are complete and our supplies replenished, we're heading towards Kothlis. However, we won't leave you totally defenceless. We're leaving behind our most damaged ships along with a small battle group to act as deterrent against Separatist raids. Once we reach Bothawui I will speak with our forces there on your behind and do my best to ensure Manda is reinforced."

The old man's eyes narrowed at me. "I see." He rasped. "Can I convince you to leave a more sizeable force here?"

"Not unless you have a spare fleet. I'm led to believe that there is a large Separatist fleet at Kothlis. Frankly, I can't really afford to leave behind even the ships that are too damaged to risk in combat." I told him the truth.

A bit of back and forth followed – with Baobab trying to bribe me to protect his world better, including a few implied threats of making my life harder once contact with the Republic was re-established. I'm not sure if the old man knew how close he came to suffer an "accident" while doing that. The only reason I was actually leaving forces behind with the damaged ships was simple – not doing so wasn't going to go down well with the non-brainwashed portion of the fleet with me, which by now was two thirds of it. While a lot of the people who were with me at Kamino were still alive, many of them had their ships damaged and had to be left behind for repairs.

"That would be all, Master Baobab." Finally, I got tired of his veiled threats and cut off the connection before I lost my temper. The sheer nerve of that man!

I picked up the data-pad that Piett left and looked over the ships we lost. Wasn't that interesting! One was commanded by a Dark Jedi and it was lost with all hands. Scratch one potential future complication – that thought earned me a lot of grumbling by Shaak Ti.

=RK=

Part 2

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Bunker complex

Undisclosed location

Kothlis

Grey metal walls. Exposed pipes just below the grey ceiling. A turn at the end of the corridor and even more grey metal walls.

It was true what people said – familiarity did breed contempt. For over two months now this was his home – a bunker under a small mountain in the middle of nowhere. The place was functional, so far kept him alive, at least according to his security detail and that was as far as redeeming features went.

Why the infernal Separatists couldn't wait for two more weeks before they attacked? Then he would have been safe and sound at Bothawui, where he could have actually done something to advance his career! Instead, Borsk Fey'lya, the new governor of Kothlis, was stuck in a hole in the ground on his homeworld. His first, successful mind you, step towards political power, turned so not like he foresaw it!

Another turn. It wasn't far to the control room now. Borsk's security detail agreed with that assessment and picked up the pace – they were all Bothan like him, though you couldn't tell it from a cursory glance. Where Fey'lya wore an expensive suit in deep green colour with lapels embroidered in brown tribal markings, his guard were clad from head to toe in combat armour infused with smart paint that shifted to take the cover and texture of any nearby surface. It was expensive, however stealth capabilities were never something the Bothan would skim on – no matter if it was about their military or the Bothan Spy Network.

One more turn and they were there – at the end of that corridor stood massive armoured doors that led into the command centre, complete with eight armed to the teeth, literally, Bothans. A minute to pass through security and the vault like entrance opened to reveal a cavern-like chamber full with rows upon rows of terminals, which were manned day and night, all the time since the war began. Borsk walked inside and his security detail peeled off to take positions next to the entrance – at least that was what he sorely wished they would do at least one damned time but no, the whole group of walking tin-cans continued to surround him even as he went to meet his most senior military officer. That worthy was an old greying Bothan, which only gave his silver pelt a distinguished look that a lot of females dug. Not that Fey'lya was jealous – with his hard earned money and the prestige of being the Governor, he had no trouble on that front... at least until the Separatist came and he got stuck in this glorified hole.

No, he wasn't bitter! Not at all! He would deny such an accusation to his dying breath!

Borsk drew his clawed paw down his muzzle in a calming gesture. This wasn't the time nor the place for such thoughts! "General Ner'ilm." Fey'lya nodded respectfully to the old soldier.

"Governor."

"What's the emergency?" It wasn't often that the old soldier called Borsk in the middle of the night and it never bode well. The last time it was a Separatist attempt to demolish the sensor array set in the middle of the asteroid ring surrounding Kothlis, that provided the defenders with real time information of not only everything that happened in the system but every hyperspace event in fifty light-year radius. That field was something that Borsk would be forever thankful for – it was so full with minefields, traps and weapon emplacements that he often wondered if there were more of those that asteroids in there. It was that field and Kothlis' three moons – and the heavy weapon emplacements there that prevented the Separatists from successfully invading his homeworld. They did try though and as of his last briefing, they held two thirds of the farthest moon – that was what they had to show for after months long siege. Keeping the enemy at bay was by no means cheap – half the SDF was gone by now, with about half again of what was left damaged to various extent. The toll upon the fighter wings in the asteroid field didn't bare thinking about – that was the one terrain small craft were still effective in and the Separatists weren't shy of sending whole swarms in there in their constant attempts to sweep the defences from that area.

Ner'ilm pointed a claw at the main holo-tank built in the far wall. It was projecting a huge image of the system above the heads of the technicians below them. At a first glance, Borsk couldn't see anything new. The Separatist forces in the system were still divided in four task forces, each large enough to crush what the SDF had left in open combat. They were above the plain of the system patrolling at vectors that would allow them to reinforce each other or intercept anyone coming with supplies for Kothlis; due to stellar geometry, anyone who wanted to reach the planet had to exit hyperspace outside the asteroid field and travel in real space from there. While that wasn't ideal from economic standpoint, it made the fourth planet in the system a natural fortress, which combined with its hospitable biosphere and climate was one of the primary reasons why the Bothan chose that world as one of their fist interstellar colonies.

"Where..." Borsk began before biting off his words. There was a cluster of faint green dots at the edge of the system – light hours away from both the star and Kothlis.

"A dozen or so escorts and about twenty five cruiser weight ships. Profiles suggest Venators and Acclamators with handful of others mixed in." The General gave Borsk a fanged smile. "As you can see, Governor, they didn't come from Bothawui."

"Someone managed to fight their way to us!" Fey'lya's mind raced. This was an opportunity! "Contact the Homeworld as well as our new friends!" If the Separatist blockade could be broken, he would be able to claim at least some of the credit and get away from this hole in the ground!

=RK=

CIC

Republic cruiser Shining Light

Kothlis, outer system

"Keep trying to raise Bothawui." Keeping myself at least appear calm was proving a struggle. Granted, we were at extreme comm range from the Bothan homeworld, however despite that we should have been able to call someone over there.

Someone forgot to tell that to our comm gear. Was it built by the lowest bidder? When I came back to Coruscant I would be having a chat with whoever made that shoddy piece of equipment.

"Try raising Kothlis too and use tight-beam." I continued.

"Sir, I think Formation Three noticed us. I'm getting energy spices from their location."

"Be ready to get us out of here at a moment's notice. We aren't engaging the Separatist at four to one (odds) in their favour if we can help it."

"I'm getting energy spikes from Formations Two and Four too." The Sensor officer dutifully reported. That left just one, which was on the other side of the star from us and almost invisible.

"Get us out..." I began ordering a jump to dark space, when the Comm officer interrupted me.

"We're being hailed from Kothlis – a General Ner'ilm and Governor Borsk Fey'lya."

"Sent them our suggestion along with time of our next insertion and get us out."

We entered hyperspace moments before a Separatist task force that matched our fleet could jump in our collective faces. Once we were safely travelling away from Kothlis, I had time to wonder why the name Borsk Fey'lya sounded familiar? I was sure I've head it before...