The seven incoming warships held formation at the edge of the system.
Three Lucrehulk core ships — their massive ring structures unmistakable — and four Munificent-class frigates escorting them in disciplined arcs. Reinforcements had arrived faster than expected.
On the surface, clone battalions were still securing the fuel complex.
In orbit, the *Terminus* drifted calmly.
"Enemy fleet establishing attack vector," Captain Ragnos reported. "They're forming a standard pincer formation. Likely expecting conventional engagement."
"Of course they are," I replied.
I turned toward the forward artillery deck.
"Clear the SPHA-T gunnery cradle. Only essential personnel remain."
Minutes later, I stood once more inside the towering frame of the SPHA-T. The same cold metal. The same reactor hum.
Below us, Republic forces were still unloading supplies.
There would be no drawn-out fleet duel.
Not today.
I placed my hand against the control column.
Breathe in.
The reactor pulsed beneath my palm, stable but restrained.
Through the Force, I extended my awareness outward — mapping not just the SPHA-T's conduits, but the positions of the enemy fleet. The Lucrehulks were spreading slightly, attempting to widen their overlapping fields of fire.
They were cautious.
Good.
I let memory rise again — Geonosis, the overwhelming sky of droid carriers blotting out hope. The sensation of being outnumbered.
This time, the numbers did not matter.
Blue lightning formed across my fingers, faint at first.
"Containment fields ready," Ethan reported calmly through the comm. "Recommend gradual escalation."
"I know."
The lightning surged — not uncontrolled, not wild — but channeled into the SPHA-T's intake matrix. It flowed through heavy gas compression chambers, superheating the propellant beyond rated tolerances. Capacitors screamed as they accepted the charge.
The emitter shifted from red to brilliant cobalt.
Outside, the first Munificent angled shields toward us.
They had learned from the debris field.
Too late.
"Maximum compression achieved," Ethan said. "All safety thresholds exceeded."
I opened my eyes.
"Fire."
The first plasma sphere left the cannon like a compressed star.
It crossed the void in seconds and struck the lead Munificent dead center. Its shields flared — then collapsed instantly under the concentrated lightning-wrapped surge.
The frigate split cleanly along its spine, halves drifting apart before internal detonations consumed them.
The enemy formation faltered.
A second shot formed almost immediately.
This one struck the nearest Lucrehulk's outer ring.
The energy discharge cascaded along its circular structure, overloading power relays and shield generators simultaneously. The massive ring fractured in multiple places, collapsing inward as the vessel tore itself apart.
Panic spread across the enemy formation.
They attempted to scatter.
I did not allow them distance.
Third discharge — another Munificent destroyed mid-turn.
Fourth — a Lucrehulk's central core ruptured, the spherical command ship erupting in controlled brilliance.
Fifth and sixth shots followed in rapid succession, the SPHA-T's reactor pushed to limits far beyond design specifications.
Within less than three minutes, the void was filled with expanding debris fields and fading energy signatures.
Seven ships reduced to drifting wreckage.
Inside the gunnery cradle, the lightning faded from my hands.
Reactor output returned to safe levels.
I steadied myself with a slow breath.
The storm quieted.
"Enemy fleet neutralized," Ethan confirmed. "No Republic losses."
On the bridge, stunned silence gave way to disciplined motion.
Captain Ragnos spoke carefully.
"General… orbital superiority is absolute."
"For now," I replied.
I activated fleet command channels.
"Deploy all available heavy tugs."
The five logistics corps tugs detached first, followed by additional recovery craft. Tractor beams latched onto the largest fragments of the destroyed Lucrehulks.
"Form a defensive debris perimeter around surface landing zones," I ordered. "Use the intact hull sections as physical barriers. Position them to create overlapping lines of cover for ground forces."
Large segments of ring structures were maneuvered into controlled descent, guided carefully to avoid impact damage. Others were left in low orbit, forming a protective belt — a jagged halo of ruined metal shielding approach vectors.
On the surface, clones watched as massive sections of Separatist warships settled into the desert plains, creating instant fortifications of reinforced durasteel meters thick.
Additionally, intact cargo modules and fuel containers were identified within the wreckage.
"Salvage priority," I continued. "Strip usable reactors, shield generators, and supply stockpiles. Redirect to base construction."
Commander Blam responded from the ground.
"Understood, General. Establishing perimeter and beginning material extraction."
Within hours, the shattered remains of the Separatist fleet were no longer random wreckage.
They were walls.
Storage depots.
Shield platforms.
Foundation material for a permanent Republic base built from the bones of its enemies.
I stepped back from the SPHA-T and looked out across the orbital debris field.
The war had come to this world expecting a foothold.
Instead, it had given us one.
And the Republic position here would not be easily removed.