The eight-hour flight to Lantilles passed without my noticing. The moment I reached my bunk aboard the *Terminus*, I collapsed and was gone. Complete shutdown. Physically, I hadn't done anything extraordinary — but emotionally… that speech alone had drained me dry. Again I had to say all the right words about sacrifice, brotherhood, legacy. About how heroes never truly die as long as the Legion remembers them. I formally announced that the incoming regiments were now part of the Legion.
Regiments seven through eleven… and twenty-six. No longer canonical by any Republic standard — but since when had I cared about canonical structure? Am I a general here, or a decorative accessory?
An hour before arrival, I forced my eyes open. Shower. Light breakfast. Then meditation.
I sat in lotus position in my quarters — reinforced bulkheads humming softly with the deeper reactor output of the modified *Terminus*. Since her refit, the ship felt different during hyperspace transit — more stable, more grounded, as if the reinforced frame resisted the violent tides of subspace. I closed my eyes and began clearing the noise from my mind.
It wasn't easy.
Thoughts drifted in — casualty numbers, patrol routes, armor calibration, Ahsoka's training, the weight of command. One by one, I pushed them aside. Breath steady. Awareness narrowing.
Eventually, I reached something close to stillness.
Not peace.
But clarity.
When I rose, I felt balanced — not rested, but focused.
I preferred to be on the bridge when we exited hyperspace. Especially now. The *Terminus* was no longer a standard warship — expanded sensor arrays, reinforced forward armor, upgraded turbolaser batteries, modularized hangar decks. She was designed to hit first and survive the counterblow. Being absent from the bridge during transition felt irresponsible.
Halfway there, it happened.
A flash.
Ships twisting in vacuum. Green bolts crossing darkness. Explosions blooming like dying stars. Enemy vectors — left and right.
I staggered, catching myself against the bulkhead.
Damn it… what was that?
My skull throbbed — sharp, splitting pain behind the eyes. A vision? A Force premonition? I'd been meditating deeper lately — maybe I'd brushed something I wasn't meant to see.
Or maybe I was meant to.
The Force had saved my life before. Ignoring it now would be stupidity.
I straightened and quickened my pace.
The bridge doors parted.
"Captain Ragnos! Full combat alert!" I barked. "Torpedoes armed. Enemy vessels waiting at exit point — port and starboard. Munificent-class frigates."
For half a second, confusion flickered across his face — then discipline took over.
"Combat alert! All hands to stations! Torpedoes armed!"
The bridge hummed as power rerouted. Shield generators intensified. Targeting arrays aligned automatically — the modified fire-control systems of the *Terminus* adjusting even before realspace re-entry.
The countdown felt endless.
"Five… four… three… two… one… Jump complete!"
Stars snapped into existence.
We emerged precisely between two Munificent-class frigates already under pursuit by Republic vessels. Two more CIS ships flanked the right vector, attempting withdrawal.
They hadn't expected a heavy destroyer materializing at point-blank range.
"Fire."
The forward heavy turbolasers of the *Terminus* discharged in synchronized fury. Enhanced capacitors allowed faster cycling — green lances tore into the nearest frigate's hull before its shields fully compensated. Secondary batteries followed instantly, while proton torpedoes streaked outward in disciplined arcs.
The first frigate took two direct hits amidships.
It split apart.
The others fared little better. At this range, with the *Terminus*' reinforced bow plating absorbing stray return fire, there was no room for maneuver.
Less than a minute.
Four enemy ships became expanding debris fields.
"Multiple debris clusters confirmed," the tactical officer reported. "Minimal return damage sustained."
Good.
"Contacts directly ahead — Commander Kinaun's squadron," comms added.
"Open channel."
---
Commander Kinaun stood rigid on the bridge of his Acclamator. Over the past week, Separatist raiders had been hitting Lantilles repeatedly — small Munificent groups striking orbital infrastructure before fleeing. Frustrating. Embarrassing.
And today he had two dozen trainees observing the engagement — fresh midshipmen and junior officers on a familiarization tour.
Not ideal timing.
"Large vessel emerging from hyperspace!" a clone operator called moments earlier.
Then the *Terminus* had appeared.
Right in front of the retreating frigates.
The trainees were still staring at the display in stunned silence as the enemy ships disintegrated under overwhelming firepower.
"Sir, vessel identified — *Terminus*-class modified destroyer. Commanded by General Dagon Marek."
Kinaun allowed himself a rare smile.
"General Marek is requesting communication."
"Connect him."
My image appeared on the central holoscreen.
"Good to see you, Commander," I said lightly. "Looks like you were enjoying target practice."
"What brings you to our corner of the sector, General?" Kinaun replied, glancing at the trainees, who were now very obviously pretending not to stare.
"Shooting," I answered vaguely, then shifted tone. "Reinforcements transfer. Patrol coordination. And I thought I'd introduce myself properly."
"You've made quite the introduction already."
Behind him, one of the trainees whispered something about "Roche Sector" and "three task forces rescued." Word travels fast.
"I'll take the liberty of inviting you to the Officers' Meeting tonight," Kinaun continued. "Given the… demonstration."
I spread my hands theatrically. "I'm not sure I packed the appropriate attire."
He nearly chuckled.
"In these times, General, armor is perfectly acceptable."
I inclined my head. "Then I wouldn't miss it."
The transmission ended.
Around us, Republic vessels began recovery operations, tractor beams pulling wreckage clear of major traffic lanes. Lantilles' orbital stations glimmered in the distance — a sprawling network of commerce, shipyards, and military platforms along the Perlemian Trade Route.
The raiders had been a nuisance.
Today, they had met something heavier.
I rested a hand lightly on the command rail of the *Terminus*.
Premonition or not, the Force had spoken.
And this time, I had answered in time.