Sublight Drive (Star Wars)
Chapter 8

Christophsis Approach, Christoph System

Savareen Sector

Anakin was never good at waiting, but there was a war going on, and half the time war was all about waiting. Waiting for the opportune moment, waiting… waiting…

He resisted the urge to pace the bridge of the Pioneer, locking his knees and flattening his feet against the metal panels. There was, after all, nothing more demoralising for soldiers than seeing their commanding officer anything less than completely in control. It was all an illusion–he knew it, they knew it–none of them were in control, Jedi or not. It was simply more comforting to deceive yourself.

Resolute was gone, Dauntless was gone, and along with them half of the 501st. Ged, Coric, Denal, Rex… all of them, gone. And now, Anakin was staring at their killer, at the cabal of Separatist ships choking Christophsis like a noose. Somewhere in that murder of Munificents was the architect of not one, but two of his worst defeats. It was the exact same person, Anakin knew it, nobody else in this kriffing galaxy used those kinds of tactics.

And the worst part? It was the exact same one. He should have realised quicker, sooner. He should have just disobeyed Obi-Wan and used the stealth corvette to strike their rear… their deaths weighed on his mind. He felt every single one of them.

Hundreds of thousands of klicks away, planetside, and he could feel their anguish, fear, and pain so clearly. It was the single largest loss of his command Anakin has experienced, and it nearly overwhelmed him. If he was still the boy at Jabiim, he would have lost his mind.

But he wasn’t. He was a man now, a Jedi Knight, with his own command, and this was war. He had an image to uphold, and a responsibility to his men. As much as he wanted to hop in a starfighter and take the fight straight to the Seppies… if his clonetroopers could march back into the gauntlet without a single murmur, then he had to do even better.

That was the duty of an officer. That was what’s expected of him.

Anakin glared into the void, implanting each and every enemy frigate into his mind, as if he could coax out that person with sheer force of will alone.

“General, Admiral Yularen needs you in the Battle Room.”

“I’ll be right there, thank you Rex.”

Anakin mentally punched himself the moment the last word left his lips. He could feel the silence on the bridge, like a slime over his skin. The pointed ignorance as officers–clone and otherwise–hastily busied themselves with their implements. He could hear the usual background humming, all the hardware that made the ship possible, brought to the forefront.

“Clone Commander CC-One-One-Nineteen, sir,” if the clone was offended, he didn’t show it.

Anakin took a silent breath, “My apologies, soldier. No name?”

“Appo, sir,” Appo said.

“Appo…” he mumbled–he recognised that name, “From Alpha’s program?”

“Yes, sir.”

Anakin turned around, nodding in respect, “Let’s see what Yularen has for me.”

He hid his discomfort as they walked past the crew pits, attempting to ignore the unfamiliar presence at his flank and hoping it didn't show in his stride. Anakin knew it was a disservice to Appo, who must have suddenly found himself the commanding clone officer of the butchered remains of the 501st, and was in all likelihood having no easy time of it. Thousands of his brothers were gone, and Appo himself must have leaped several ranks to fill in the command vacuum left by their deaths.

But Rex was simply too familiar a presence for Anakin to ignore, and his stalwart company will be sorely missed. Already sorely missed, as if he was missing his right hand… left hand.

Thankfully, the walk was not too long. The blast doors hissed open to reveal the darkened Battle Room, with a holographic crowd of almost a dozen Jedi and just as many Admirals surrounding the wide holodisplay table. Yularen quietly acknowledged his arrival as Appo slithered out of the scene to observe. Rex would never do that, but it was obvious Appo still didn’t quite know how to handle his new standing.

And it was unfair to compare him to Rex, anyway. Anakin let the tension drain out of his body, gesturing for the Clone Commander to stick close to him.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, “How nice of you to join us.”

Obi-Wan tried to inject the humorous tone he usually had whenever Anakin shows up late, but this time it felt as if he was trying too hard. And Anakin didn’t have the strength to respond with anything other than a polite “Master.”

Obi-Wan wasn’t his Master anymore, but word rolled off his tongue without resistance. His once mentor crossed arms and loosened his shoulders, offering a small, but comforting smile.

Another holograph fizzled into view, and the dark form of Master Luminara Unduli took shape. A new contact appeared on a nearby plan positioning indicator projected onto a clear plotting board, right on the edge of the system. Master Unduli’s taskforce.

The Jedi Master herself was known to be quiet, but she held herself with an introspective–almost melancholic–aura, only giving token gestures of greeting to the gathered Jedi, as if for the sake of politeness alone. Something went wrong with her mission, Anakin guessed. It seemed he wasn’t the only one not up to spec today. The thought didn’t make him feel any better.

“Master Unduli,” Mace Windu said gruffly, “A report on your mission?”

Master Unduli’s features tightened, her tattoos twisting, “It was a Separatist trap. We were lured to Teth, where Asajj Ventress ambushed my fleet in orbit. We lost one cruiser.”

Ventress. His eye ached at that name.

“And the mission?”

“Rotta the Hutt has been safely delivered to his father,” Master Unduli said, “Jabba’s demands were exacting, but I have negotiated a favourable outcome for the Republic. We have access–if not full access–to Hutt Space.”

A gaggle of career officers broke into satisfied smiles, while the Jedi themselves remained more reserved. But this was good news, everybody knew. With the Outer Rim hyperlanes in their hands, the Grand Army’s overstretched supply lines could be effectively cut by half.

“Troubling you, something is,” Grand Master Yoda observed, “A great loss, you have suffered. Greater than a cruiser.”

“...My Padawan, Barriss Offee, volunteered her life to rescue the Huttlet,” Master Unduli said slowly, “I did not see what had become of her, but I fully intend on returning to Teth to seek closure.”

The mood sobered quickly. That was war, Anakin knew, and sacrifice was a price each of them will have to pay when the time comes. For Barriss Offee, it came early, but her sacrifice might have just swung this war solidly in their favour. What more can a soldier ask for? But Offee wasn’t a soldier, was she?

Anakin couldn’t imagine how it would feel to lose a Padawan. Soldiers were one thing–they knew death was around every corner in their line of work–but a young apprentice? A child?

Master Leska, waves lapping at her eyes staring to a brilliant ray of light. Aubrie… and Tae and Zule and all the rest he abandoned to a sunless world. A charred helmet of the 501st floating in the vacuum of space, orbiting a lifeless moon. He saw none of this with his eyes, yet seen it all in the Force.

Anakin blinked, and the images faded. He wasn’t able to save any of them, but if there had been even the slightest chance… A complicated emotion stirred in his chest. To say their deaths had been meaningless was to disrespect their sacrifice, but if he could have the chance to save them… He would have never accepted their deaths.

“What if she is still alive?” Anakin let slip.

“Anakin–” Obi-Wan warned, with a face that said ‘I’m tolerating you because of your loss, but you are crossing the line.’

“If I discover any reason to think so,” Master Unduli met his gaze solidly, “Then I assure you I will spare no effort or expense to find her, and rescue her.”

A part of him hoped he too could find a reason to believe Rex–and the rest of the 501st–were somehow still alive. Wishful thinking, he scolded himself not long after.

“Seek, you will,” Master Yoda agreed, “Extend your senses. Still alive, if young Barriss is, then guide you the Force will.”

As Master Luminara adopted a thoughtful look, Obi-Wan cleared his throat, clearly keen on refocusing the strategy briefing.

“I will now explain our strategy for liberating Christophsis,” he said, “We have timed our arrival such that our ground targets are now on the opposite side of the blockade. Admiral Wurtz and Master Gallia will pin down the Separatist fleet while the rest of us manoeuvres to our specified deployment zones.”

A projection of Christophsis burst out of the holodisplay table. Three lines extended out of their combined fleet; one straight to the blockade, and two more branching prograde and retrograde to pulsating red zones on the planetary surface.

“Master Mundi and Master Koth will lead the assault here, in the northern hemisphere,” Obi-Wan pointed, and the projection zoomed in on the red zone to reveal a vast manufacturing sector, “Master Mundi?”

Ki-Adi-Mundi received the reins, “Our battlegroup’s primary objective is to secure the planet’s crystal refineries. Christophsis’ strategic resources are vital to our war effort, and we must not allow the planet’s industry to remain in Separatist hands.”

Master Barrek, K’Kruhk and several other Jedi Knights and Padawans nodded in affirmation.

Crystal. A nebulous, modest word for one of the most priceless ingredients for victory. It could be argued that Christophsis’ crystal industries were even more strategically important than its location straddling the Corellian Run. Crystals could be found in just about every weapon system in the Grand Army, serving as focusing mediums for turbolasers to electronics in missile warheads.

And not only that, Anakin knew all too well. If fuel was the lifeblood of a warship, then crystals made their brain and nervous systems. Multiphasic diode relays, cognizant crystal interfaces, sensor rectennas, crystal bio-anode circuitry–even basic holoprojectors. Almost every type of sophisticated electronic system possesses crystal components. Anakin lived and breathed this stuff, and he knew better than most there was no overstating the oft-overlooked permeance of crystal tech.

“At the same time, Master Unduli and I will lead the assault on Crystal City, in the southern hemisphere,” Obi-Wan continued, “General Whorm has heavily fortified the city, and it will take our combined forces to break his defences. Should Master Mundi take the planetary industries ahead of schedule, his forces will redeploy to support us. Let’s make sure we don’t get ground down into a prolonged siege.”

“Anakin,” Master Plo Koon regarded him, “Our forces will remain in orbit. Our troops will serve as a rapid reaction force to support the boots on the ground. Only when immediate reinforcements are requested, will we deploy.”

No doubt out of consideration of the deplorable state of the 501st. Anakin chafed to avenge his men by bringing the fight to the tinnies–whether on the ground or in orbit–but surrounded by Jedi, he had little choice but to grit his teeth and nod.

“Recapturing the Christoph System is of the utmost importance,” Master Windu stressed, “Once orbital supremacy has been established over the planet, I will lead a fleet to Ryloth and relieve Master Di’s resistance. Master Barrek has also uncovered the existence of extensive droid factories on Hypori, which can only be accessed with this system in our hands.”

“Clone Intelligence has also reported rising local resistance on Geonosis, and an informant has revealed plans for an invasion of Kamino,” Master Shaak Ti crossed her arms, “I fear Count Dooku is exploiting our distraction here to launch a renewed offensive all across the galactic south. Possibly to improve his strategic position before the effects of our new Outer Rim spacelanes turn the tide of the war in this theatre.

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“Then we have a long campaign ahead of us,” Master Windu said grimly, “May the Force be with all of you.”

The projections winked out one by one as everybody moved to separate channels in order to hammer out the final details of the campaign–the kind of tactical specifics that didn’t warrant a strategic conference–until only he, Obi-Wan, Master Koon and Master Unduli remained.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan hid the worry in his tone, but Anakin knew him too well to mistake it, “I need you to stay focused for this mission. Your role is just as important as–”

“I know, Master,” Anakin offered a small smile to reassure him, “I know.”

“...I hope so, Anakin,” Obi-Wan and Master Unduli left.

“Admiral,” he said as he turned to leave, “Stay in contact with the Triumphant and coordinate our fleet movements.”

“Will do, General.”

Commander Appo silently tailed him back onto the bridge, right up until the blast doors clunked shut.

“The men want to fight, sir,” the clone told him quietly, “Staying all holed up on the ship– no-one wants to admit it, but we’re all on edge.” Sᴇaʀᴄh the NovᴇlFɪre .ɴᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of nøvels early and in the highest quality.

“So do I, Commander,” Anakin sighed, “So am I. But we have a role to carry out, and if we do have to deploy, then things have taken a turn for the worst… well, worse than it already is.”

Before him, the crystal surface of Christophsis continued to glimmer brightly in the light of its star. From afar, the planet was serene, tranquil–and ignorant of the impending slaughter. All over that crystal crust.

⁂

Orbit of Teth, Teth System

Baxel Sector

The blue ghost of Sev’rance Tann regarded us in all her imperious elegance, her Confederate-grey uniform almost shimmering in the light of Teth Prime.

Upholding the Confederate tenets of planetary self-determination and autonomy, there wasn’t an official uniform in the military. In fact, the military was still in a bit of a mess, better described as a patchwork amalgamation of corporate droid armies and planetary defence forces of constituent worlds. Most officers preferred to tailor their own outfits, or simply keep to the uniforms of the homeworld’s military. The diverse spread of alien species in the Separatist ranks, compared to the Republic’s clone and human dominated armed forces, likely supplemented the trend.

Personally, I still wear the silver-bronze uniform of the Onderonian Royal Army.

I joined the Confederate Navy during the mass recruitment drive across Separatist space in the days following the Raxus Address, held in a concerted effort to rope in experienced officers from disparate PSFs into a central authority. Which meant I also had the same grey outfits, but they were too stiff for my liking.

A sudden thought made me wonder if I should have worn that uniform just for this occasion, in order to earn some brownie points with the General.

“You failed,” General Tann didn’t pose it as a question, but as a fact.

I expected Ventress to say something–as she was the ranking officer of the mission–but the Sith lady remained obtusely silent. Well, I suppose the Sith were never good with personal failures… at least that’s what I got from the movies. Luckily for me, Asajj Ventress was more of the brooding type, than the tantrum type. It’s not like I couldn’t empathise.

Looking at you, Kylo Ren.

What’s more interesting is that we hadn’t even said anything to warrant the General’s statement. I was quite proud of my poker face–and Ventress’ was no slouch either–so either General Tann knew the result through her Force magic, or she had set us up for failure. I doubt Sev’rance Tann was the kind of person that engages–or even tolerates–this kind of office politics, however, so I am leaning more towards the space magic side.

Usually in this kind of situation, the appropriate response would be something along the lines of ‘it won’t happen again,’ but I wasn’t about to make a promise I can’t keep. Instead, I’m going to fall back on ol’ reliable–the standard oral report.

“Jedi General Luminara Unduli arrived in the system with two Venator-class star cruisers and two Acclamator-class troopships,” I said dutifully, “I– We ambushed the Republic taskforce in low orbit, inflicting heavy damage on one cruiser and capturing another, at the cost of one frigate. Another frigate suffered temporary power loss, but has made a partial recovery.”

“Republic forces successfully absconded with the Huttlet and retreated into hyperspace,” I continued, “I elected not to pursue, since I possessed only one operational warship at the time.”

“The rescue force was much greater than anticipated,” Ventress finally rasped, “We were ill-prepared.”

“An unintended consequence of our success at Christophsis,” General Tann frowned, “It is now more paramount than ever that we hold the planet to contest the galactic south. The reasons for this failure will be noted–I will now be redeploying both of you.”

Ventress sharply looked up, “Count Dooku–”

“The Count is more than displeased with you, Commander,” Tann smiled chillingly, “I am now your commanding officer, and have been given the authority to supervise your punishment.”

Ventress ground her teeth, almost sneering. My back started to itch, but I valiantly remained stiff as a twig at attention.

“You will face no punishment,” the General was inscrutable, “Be thankful I have more patience for failure. Instead, I will allow you a chance to redeem yourself–and perhaps if you do so, you may return to the good graces of the Count.”

Nevermind. General Tann most definitely participates in office politics. Seriously? Not only was this perfect example of the carrot-and-stick in action, but Tann managed to clearly define the standing between her and Ventress–both in the military, and with Count Dooku. It was like watching a catfight, except it was between a nexu and a tooka.

That is to say, it was rather fascinating–and mildly unnerving–to see Ventress grit her teeth and bow her head like an admonished child. For a brief moment, I thought she was about to pull out the captured Jedi card, but she never did. Not to mention, I didn’t detect any outgoing communications from my ship, which meant the only people who knew she had the Padawan were herself, me, and a few hundred droids.

But I guess not yet.

“Captain,” the General regarded me, “Take what remains of your squadron to Geonosis. With the Republic pinned down, we are liberating the planet.”

“With all due respect, sir,” I replied hesitantly, “With our present condition–”

“By the time you arrive, the battle should be over,” she was visibly amused, “We have coordinated a planetwide uprising with the Geonosians, and my Decimator Corps will make quick work of the occupation garrison. We will discuss your further involvement after you arrive.”

“Understood,” I said stiffly, “Sir. And the captured Jedi cruiser?”

“Intern the prisoners and salvage as much data as possible,” she ordered, “Republic strategies and tactics, designs, patrol routes, supply corridors, everything. We will dismantle the ship on Geonosis.”

“Already doing so, sir,” I nodded.

“Very good,” Tann turned to Ventress, “And you. I’m sending you to Christophsis. You will find your Ginivex on Molavar; take it and join General Loathsom’s defence. I suspect you will find the Jedi you are looking for there.”

“There will be dozens of Jedi on the planet,” Ventress’ face was fixed in a permanent scowl, “How will Loathsom be enough to hold them all off?”

“Count Dooku has deployed a new General onto the field,” she replied smoothly, “And he assures me this one is far more capable than you or Loathsom. The only thing the Jedi will find on Christophsis is a bitter defeat.”

“Now, if that is all…” General Tann lingered on the final syllable, as if expecting someone to interject.

Ventress stayed stubbornly quiet, while I palmed the idea of snitching about the Padawan.

Pfft– snitching? I could afford to piss off Ventress–by the grace of God, I shan’t see her bald scalp ever again–but I cannot afford to cross General Tann. Not only did she currently represent top of the totem pole, she was about to ascend to fucking proverbial heaven once she’s appointed Supreme Commander. If she finds out– when she finds out…

I coughed, “And what about the captured Jedi Commander, sir?”

Ventress bristled so violently I could feel the hairs on my arm rise on end, a migraine birthing where she was staring daggers into my head. Sev’rance Tann slowly raised an eyebrow, looking at the offending Sith with a smile that plainly spelled out ‘I can see right through you, girl.’

“What is this, Ventress?”

Oh boy, she is really milking this.

“...I captured Unduli’s Padawan,” Ventress squeezed out, “Barriss Offee.”

“And you have informed Count Dooku?”

“I have not.”

“Your intentions for her?”

“I will turn her against the Jedi,” Ventress snarled.

I doubletaked, turning my head in surprise, before doubletaking at myself for doubletaking. No– of course she would try to convert the Jedi to the Dark Side! I genuinely can’t believe I almost forgot about the whole ‘religious war’ schtick the Jedi and Sith have going on. It was one thing to see how comically evil the big bads were on the silver screen, and another to actually live in the same galaxy as them.

Maybe it was because both Sev’rance Tann and Asajj Ventress were on the tamer–and dare I say it, normal–spectrum of the Dark Side, I could easily overlook their whole ‘evil’ thing once I got past their appearances. Honestly, I doubt Tann was even a Sith. I’ve seen her lightsaber a grand total of one time, it was bright yellow–yellow lightsaber, shit that’s cool–not red. Not to mention that beyond her uncanny ability to predict almost anything, I haven’t actually seen her use the Force outwardly–such as the choking thing they like to do.

Really, I was so caught up in this whole civil war thing I had forgotten it was a Sith scheme. I should really start making some contingencies for that… I highly doubt I could do anything against the BBEG Palpatine himself, but I could try and think of some ways to survive the rise of the Empire. Maybe defect, or something… but also maybe not, considering the life expectancy of Imperial officers, or citizens. Definitely don’t want to live in a homicidal star empire where my planet could blow up without at least an eviction notice a week earlier.

But well, first things first to my grand plan of not dying early–don’t allow the creation of any new Sith. Ventress and Tann don’t show up in the movies, so they’re probably going to die sooner or later. Well, unless I inadvertently did something to change their fate–but I doubt it, considering the Force exists. Maul is dead, Dooku and Grievous are going to die… I think that’s all of them accounted for.

So what happens if this new Padawan–Offee–becomes a Sith? Answer: there’ll be a new Sith on the block, and one completely unaccounted for. And as someone with the moral obligation to not help the obviously evil side–and also out of my own self-preservation instinct–I can’t let that happen.

“I must protest,” I said flatly.

Now, maybe saying that in front of two Sith wasn’t my smartest decision, but I also knew Sev’rance Tann possessed a quality I doubted most Sith had: cold, military rationality. The perfect officer, really.

Whereas Ventress looked just about ready to rip my head off, General Tann merely regarded me with a raised eyebrow, “Go on.”

I took a deep breath, “Forgive my ignorance on these… esoteric matters… but as a field officer I believe that attempting to convert the Jedi is at best a waste of valuable time, effort, and resources in exchange for minimal gain.”

“So we should let her run back to her Jedi Order?” Ventress growled.

“Far from it,” I shook my head, “We must treat the Force as a tool–a means to an end, not the end itself. We are all Separatists here, and we all align in the belief that the Republic has become a Jedi dictatorship. The Jedi have allowed their religion to craft an exclusive upper caste, beyond laws and justice, with a public purpose to persecute anyone who does not align with their beliefs, for example…”

I gestured vaguely, pretending I didn’t know the word ‘Sith.’

“Sith,” Ventress unhelpfully supplied.

“Sith,” I agreed, “If we treat all Light Siders as Jedi–as they treat all Dark Siders as Sith–then we will fall victim to the same defect as the Republic. We have already–and may continue–recruiting Dark Siders as a natural antithesis to the Jedi and the Republic, resulting in a distinct caste of Dark Siders in the Confederacy. It is contrary to the Republic system, yes, but being contrary is not the Confederacy’s purpose. The Confederacy’s purpose is to be a rebuttal to the Republic system: a fair and just society without religious castes.”

“An interesting perspective,” General Tann mused, “But converting the Padawan to the Dark Side will afford us another agent against the Jedi.”

Right. General Tann obviously wants a military asset, and another Sith to fight against the Jedi would relieve whatever front was being fought.

“Killing Jedi won’t win us the war, sir,” I countered, “Killing the Republic will. I suggest that instead of converting the Jedi to the Dark Side, it will be far easier to show her the injustices of the system we fight against. We show her that we aren’t the enemy she thinks she is fighting against. We turn her against the Republic, not the Light Side. Then we put her in the spotlight, spreading her face across the Shadowfeed– turn her into a Separatist icon. The Jedi who fights against the Republic.”

“The Jedi Order won’t be able to refute it, because she hasn’t turned to the Dark Side,” Ventress realised, “We’ll make them stare into their own reflection.”

“And with some luck,” I added, “More Jedi will defect to our cause. As long as Republic citizens continue to eat up propaganda and think of us as the ‘bad side,’ we will never convince them to a treaty–so forgive me for saying this–and Jedi on our side will be very good for posterity.”

Even Ventress was begrudgingly nodding along. It was clear to me there were still some personal sentiments she had to grapple with, but at least she wasn’t outright disagreeing with me.

“I am not fully convinced, but I can see the merit of your suggestion,” General Tann crossed her arms, “Captain, you will bring the Padawan to Geonosis. I will deal with her myself. Anything to add, Ventress?”

“...Nothing.”

General Tann nodded sharply, and disappeared. The second she was gone, I felt a lot less safe. Ventress spun on her heel–shooting me a cross between a death glare and a mildly impressed look–before stalking into the recesses of the ship.

I deflated like a balloon the moment I couldn’t feel her presence any longer, collapsing against my chair and wiping the layer of sweat off my face. Well, I guess I could consider this a success? At the very least, I saved the girl from a terrible fate, knowing what ‘Sith training’ usually entails.

Not exactly everything I hoped for–the General was too canny for that–but progress was progress. Baby steps, I told myself, baby steps.

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