The headquarters of the Twelfth Sectoral Army was located on the outskirts of one of the warehouse districts. One of the warehouses had been converted into a command post. The choice was logical: the building was spacious enough to house all necessary equipment, a large landing pad sat nearby, and a control tower had been refitted as a long-range communications center. Clones patrolled the perimeter, and anti-aircraft guns were positioned strategically.
Though the area had been in near-constant turmoil since the start of the war, today was especially chaotic. Staff officers rushed back and forth like possessed automatons, and the air itself seemed heavy with tension. Numerous speeders landed at the pad, delivering commanders of every rank to an emergency meeting. The subject of the meeting was unknown. Officers clustered in small groups, quietly speculating, but no one could settle on a concrete theory.
Once most officers had arrived, it was announced that the meeting would be held in the main tactical room, commencing in a few minutes—just as soon as Moff Terbon finished his communication with the Jedi Council. The announcement immediately reignited the rumors that had begun to die down.
The trip—a brief ten-minute flight—ended at a large landing pad in front of the warehouse. Inside, we headed straight for the meeting room. The chamber was spacious, with a large holographic projector at its center and rows of tables and benches surrounding it. Many familiar and unfamiliar officers were already seated, none below the rank of ship captain; several appeared only as shimmering holograms. Noticing Commander Kinaun at one of the tables, I approached him.
We exchanged a brief nod.
"General, are you aware of what happened?" he asked.
"No idea, Commander. But… something tells me the news waiting for us isn't going to be good."
Our conversation was cut short as a rising murmur swept through the room—an entourage of senior officers, led by Terbon, entered the hall.
Ilius Terbonn had not been appointed Moff and commander of the sector army for nothing. At sixty, he was still energetic, though his expression carried the weight of decades of service. To an outsider, his taciturn nature might seem simple-minded, but his sharp intellect and cold calculation had made him one of the Justice Department's most effective officers, with dozens of successful operations against pirates, slavers, and smugglers to his name.
As he entered, his sharp gaze swept across the assembled officers. Everyone who mattered was present: commanders of the Northern, Southern, Southwestern, Southeastern, Eastern, Western, Northwestern, Central, and Reserve Squadrons, along with chiefs of staff and ship captains.
Many of these officers had risen rapidly—yesterday's lieutenants and captains now commanded warships or entire squadrons. Much like Terbonn himself. Still, he harbored doubts about whether their training truly matched their new responsibilities. This war was unlike any he had seen. What had begun as clashes between a patchwork of police fleets, merchants, and industrialists had already engulfed nearly twenty thousand star systems—and there was no reason to believe it would slow down.
Then there was this newly created army and navy. Many rejoiced at the news: after a millennium of stagnation, the Republic was regaining strength, able once more to respond decisively to acts of aggression. Terbonn could accept that the army had been created in secret, but the fact that it consisted of clones—and that the Jedi had been placed in command—still baffled him. The Jedi, of all people! "Guardians of peace in the Galaxy," as their code proudly proclaimed. Terbonn had long known the Jedi could be eccentric, but this… this was something else entirely.
Yet over the past two weeks, he had witnessed firsthand the effectiveness of the clones: disciplined, adaptable soldiers, pilots, and technicians. They deserved every bit of praise. The combat equipment, too, was solid. But the Jedi in command… lacked the instinct of true soldiers. All except Dagon, who at least seemed intent on winning the war.
Terbon shook his head and stepped up to the holographic projector. The murmurs fell silent. A detailed map of the sector appeared behind him.
"Gentlemen! Plans have changed. The situation has shifted dramatically. The Separatists have recovered faster than anticipated, and now CIS forces are on the offensive across the galaxy. Our sector is no exception."
He gestured, and the map shifted to the Kashyyyk system.
"The first point: Trandosha has committed an act of aggression, sending troops to Kashyyyk and its colonies. It is possible Trandosha supports the CIS. Although no combat droids have been sighted there yet, it is likely that Separatist forces are stationed—or will soon be stationed—on Trandosha itself. Large CIS fleets are moving toward this system. The senator from Kashyyyk has convened an emergency Senate session, requesting Republic assistance and appealing directly to the Jedi Council. We have been ordered to respond."
Officers murmured quietly among themselves, debating implications.
"But that's not all," Terbon continued.
The map shifted, displaying another system.
"There has been a coup on Togoria. The brother of the local ruler, Margrave Mmurr Mryaur, organized a successful assassination and declared himself the new ruler. The former Margrave had maintained neutrality, but the new king is aligning with the CIS. Our analysts believe bribery played a role, though a significant portion of the male population—radical and militant—have enthusiastically supported the decision to join the war."
The image zoomed out, revealing the sector map crisscrossed with multicolored arrows.
"In addition," Terbonn said, "the Separatists have attacked several other systems—Sarka, Maltoria, and Diado. The situation is deteriorating. The Small Lantillian Trade Route is under direct threat and could be attacked from Togoria in the Uyter region or the Kashyyyk sector. They aim to cut us off from Hutt Space and the Thirteenth Sector. Communication routes with the Fourth Sectoral Army are also endangered. Immediate response is required."
The projector displayed a detailed plan of action.
"Commander Tirimaki," Terbonn said, pointing to a cluster of systems, "you and your squadron will proceed immediately to the Kashyyyk area, supported by Jedi Generals Kar Prong and Sk'aar'aprov with their forces. The Jedi Council has approved this decision. Commander Erita's Southwest Squadron will also provide support."
"What about ground operations?" Tirimaki asked.
"That will be handled by the Jedi," Terbonn replied. "Your responsibility is space combat."
"Two squadrons—the Northern Squadron under Commander Silent and the Eastern Squadron under Commander Velasquez—will move to Sarka and Maltoria. Jedi General Brom Truc will assist at Diado."
The commanders nodded. A holographic Jedi inclined his head solemnly.
"I will depart immediately to aid Master Squater," he said.
"Commander Ditmar's Southeast Squadron, in cooperation with Commander Knaun's Southwest Squadron, is to blockade Togoria and prevent the Separatists from landing troops there. General Marek—" the Moff paused, turning to me—"can you assist Commander Rinaun's squadron?"
"I only have one ship, but luckily the modifications make it a battleship," I replied. "I came here for reinforcements. The others are tied up protecting the factory, but… if you can spare a few squadrons of starfighters, I'll gladly help. Our ship can now hold more than a stand accumulator."
"Excellent. Every ship counts. How many squadrons can you carry?"
Before I could answer, Captain Ntor Ragnos stepped forward.
"We haven't finished loading yet," he said. "Most of our holds are still empty. We can carry up to ten squadrons on board."
Terbonn turned to a staff officer. "Allocate ten reserve squadrons!"
Then, addressing the room, he said firmly: "The Jedi Council is deeply concerned about these developments. Our sector will receive additional ships, troops, and equipment—but until they arrive, we must rely on our own strength. We must act swiftly and decisively."
Concluding his short but impactful speech, the Moff saluted and left the room. The officers rose in unison.
There was much work ahead.