Commander Kinaun stood on the bridge of his flagship, an Acclamator-class assault ship, hands clasped behind his back as the holotank flickered before him. To an outside observer, he might have seemed detached — almost indifferent.
His officers knew better.
Rernatuan Kinaun came from an old naval family. For generations, the kinauns had served the Republic in one form or another. His distant ancestors had sailed under the Republic Navy before the Ruusan Reformations. When the fleet was reduced and folded into the Judicial Department, they remained. His grandfather had fought in Stark's Hyperspace War. Service was not tradition for the Kinauns.
It was inheritance.
When the Clone War erupted, Rinaun had already been a captain in the Judicial Forces, commanding nine light cruisers tasked with anti-piracy patrols along the Mid Rim. Within weeks, promotions came swiftly — too swiftly. Now he wore the insignia of commander and held more than twenty ships under his authority.
Five were Acclamator-class military assault ships.
The rest were light cruisers — reliable, but fragile in a true fleet engagement.
His assignment to the Twelfth Sectoral Fleet had not comforted him. The Separatist-aligned worlds clustered along the Perlemian Trade Route would not yield easily. The Neimoidian guilds and their allies were pragmatic — and ruthless when profit demanded it.
The Republic now possessed a grand army and a fleet to match.
Clones.
Ships crewed by men born in vats.
Some whispered that the Jedi had secretly commissioned it all. Rinaun dismissed the rumor as nonsense. Raising millions of soldiers and thousands of warships in secrecy? Even the Jedi Order did not command that kind of hidden wealth.
And yet, those same Jedi now commanded the army.
The navy had not taken that news well.
Experienced officers, raised on doctrine and discipline, suddenly found themselves reporting to monastic peacekeepers whose battlefield experience consisted mostly of riot control and negotiation. Stories spread quickly — Jedi charging fortified lines, leading from the front, ignoring artillery positions.
Sixteen Jedi dead in the opening days alone.
Sixteen.
And now one of Rinaun's own protégés was pinned down because of such recklessness. A Jedi General had ordered an assault on a heavily fortified orbital defense platform in the Carbos system — and then diverted forces toward emergency rescues in the Fradian system of the Roche Sector.
The fleet had jumped in expecting a slaughter.
Instead, they found silence.
And wreckage.
Five Munificent-class frigates.
Two Lucrehulk-class battleships.
All destroyed.
The debris field still burned, molten fragments drifting like artificial constellations.
At the center of it all hung a warship Rinaun did not recognize.
Angular. Heavily armed. Power readings off the scale.
"Commander," his sensor officer said quietly, "that vessel is broadcasting Republic identification codes."
Rinaun narrowed his eyes.
"Identify the commanding officer."
"No registry match, sir."
Interesting.
---
#### Dagon — POV
After contacting the final distress signal in the Pothor system, Captain Ragnos estimated it was likely the last organized Separatist base within this sector.
For now.
The holotable projected updated tallies across the bridge of the *Terminus*.
**Confirmed eliminations:**
* 19 Munificent-class frigates
* 6 Lucrehulk-class battleships
* 3 Sabbath-class destroyers
And personally? Over 300 Vulture-class droid starfighters reduced to drifting scrap.
The numbers weren't about pride.
They were about momentum.
"Sir," a comms officer reported, "Republic reinforcements have arrived."
I glanced at the tactical display. An Acclamator formation holding at the edge of engagement range.
Cautious.
Disciplined.
Good.
"Order them to hold position and secure the perimeter," I said. "Once I confirm evacuation of the Jedi General and remaining ground forces, they may begin bombardment of the base."
A pause.
"Yes, sir."
Below us, the Separatist installation still bristled with surface cannons. But its orbital defense network was gone. Its fleet reduced to wreckage.
The Jedi General's signal was weak but active.
Alive.
For now.
I turned toward the forward viewport. The kyber-infused reactor core hummed steadily behind layers of durasteel and shielding — power contained, focused.
"Prepare a strike team," I ordered. "We're ending this cleanly."
Above us, the unknown Republic fleet waited.
Watching.
Assessing.
And soon, they would realize something.
The war in this sector had already shifted.
Not because of politics.
Not because of ideology.
But because someone had decided to fight it efficiently.