TX-09 entered the command bridge of his Recusant-class destroyer.
"Squadron, prepare for hyperspace jump. Coordinates: A-4-4-E-3-I-7-6."
"Roger, roger, Commander," the captain replied. "Estimated flight time: sixteen hours, seven minutes, and thirty-one seconds."
Zero-Nine moved to his usual position in front of the captain's chair.
After the Republic's daring raids deep into CIS-controlled territory, Zero-Nine had been withdrawn from the front lines and reassigned to the defense of several key worlds. However, no new attacks followed, and TX-09 had remained temporarily inactive. Separatist High Command quickly recovered from the initial shock and resumed offensive operations.
One of his counterparts, TH-07, had recently been destroyed while leading what should have been a simple assault. However, the unexpected appearance of the renowned Jedi Master Yoda had turned the battle into a catastrophe. Against such an opponent, defeat had been inevitable.
Now Zero-Nine had been given a new assignment: recapture a fuel-processing facility in a system currently controlled by the Republic. The objective was to destroy the base located on the surface of Va'aart — a heavily fortified outpost constructed by the "bags of meat."
To accomplish this task, he had been assigned six Lucrehulk-class battleships carrying the invasion force: one million combat droids. Seventeen Munificent-class frigates would provide escort and cover for the transports.
Orbital bombardment, unfortunately, was not an option. The Republic base possessed powerful anti-air and space defense systems, and the installation was protected by a strong planetary deflector shield. A ground invasion appeared to be the only viable strategy.
Four newly manufactured T-series tactical droids had been assigned to command the ground forces. Zero-Nine himself would remain in orbit, coordinating the assault and providing fleet support.
The Republic fleet had recently been reinforced with new warships, and now it attacked far more often than it retreated.
But the Republic would be crushed.
All of Zero-Nine's calculations confirmed it. The Republic's probability of victory stood at sixteen percent, while his operational plan held an eighty-four percent chance of success.
---
Kinaun stood on the bridge of his flagship.
The squadron hovered in orbit around one of the planets of the Rearkyu Cluster. Only a few hours earlier, another battle had raged here. The Republic fleet had destroyed four enemy Munificent-class frigates, whose shattered hulls were now slowly descending into the planet's atmosphere.
"Commander, we've just received a message from Va'aart. Droid reconnaissance units have been spotted," one of the clone operators reported, handing him a datapad.
Reconnaissance? That spells trouble. Small units don't conduct recon unless something big is coming.
"Send a reply," Kinaun said. "Inform them we'll arrive to assist within twenty-four hours. Let's try to get there before the Separatists and prepare an unpleasant surprise for them."
---
Riyo Chuchi leaned back wearily in her seat aboard the interstellar passenger ship.
The Pantoran Assembly had requested her report, and she was now returning home. Soon she would once again face a chamber full of dissatisfied officials.
But she was doing everything she could.
She had managed to secure a meeting with the Chancellor and had personally discussed the defense of Pantora with him. Unfortunately, he lamented that there were currently no spare resources available. Still, he promised that the Republic would assist Pantora as soon as an opportunity presented itself.
Chuchi, however, had nearly lost hope.
True, that Jedi had promised to help…
But she believed in that promise even less.
---
The four ships slowly lifted off and climbed toward orbit, where the Gozanti-class transports would begin their eleven-day journey to Pantora.
The original plan to operate them entirely with droid crews was quickly abandoned. Instead, by gathering lightly wounded clones, naval personnel, and several vehicle crewmen temporarily without assignments, a crew of eight clones per ship was assembled.
One hundred and twelve B-1 battle droids were also loaded into the holds to serve as boarding and inspection teams.
Appointing a clone lieutenant from the naval specialists as commander, I instructed him to fly to Pantora, establish contact with Senator Chuchi or the Pantoran Assembly, and then begin patrol operations in the moon's orbit.
In my message to the Pantorans, I explained that the assistance had arrived at the personal request of Senator Chuchi and politely asked that the clones be provided with the necessary supplies and food.
Although I had initially doubted the plan would work, no one questioned my orders.
After all, the Grand Army of the Republic was not only commanded by the Jedi Order — it technically belonged to it.
A few words invoking the authority of the Order, and the clones obeyed without hesitation.
Still, something tells me I'll get my comeuppance for this later.
Don't worry, Mom. The Force won't betray me… and the sarlacc probably won't eat me either.
---
Savage Opress slowly stepped aside.
The Jedi's lifeless body collapsed onto the frozen ground of the planet.
His Padawan stood nearby, clutching his lightsaber with trembling hands, frozen in place like an ice sculpture.
The Nightbrother spun the double-bladed weapon he carried — a brutal staff forged from beskar, gifted to him by Mother Talzin for one purpose: to hunt down the Jedi who had slain one of their own.
"I sense your fear," the monster growled. Clouds of steam escaped his mouth with every word. "And your anger. You want revenge, don't you?"
The insectoid Padawan let out a wild chirp and lunged.
Savage's lips curled into a cruel smile.
How simple.
A minute later, he stepped over the Padawan's corpse.
All in good time.
Soon Count Dooku would send him into battle again.
And this time, his target would be the Jedi Knight known as **Dagon Marek**.