Jedi Insurgency 278 (Interlude 39)

Within the tallest spire upon the highest plateau within the top floor sat the office of Shu Mai. The ‘dinosaur-like’ female alien, and President of the Commerce guild was deeply entrenched within her headquarters on Felucia. 

Resting between several key chokepoints, and acting as a gateway between the Mid & Outer Rim, Felucia had become a key battleground in the war, and was a critical commercial hub for Separatist trade. As one of the wealthiest organizations worth several hundred trillions of credits, the headquarters featured its own planetary-strength shield, and enough high level security droids to repel three Legions of clone troopers. Beyond its curved transparisteel windows, luminous jungles stretched toward the horizon, their immense fungal towers glowing beneath the violet evening sky.

Shu Mai barely noticed the view. The Gossam president sat behind her broad desk, reviewing casualty projections from the war. Trade routes had collapsed, factories had been seized, and allies who had once bowed at her approach now ignored her transmissions. Although the CIS was back in the war, it was a beaten dog barely able to recover during the last few months of relative peace. Victory was possible, but the cost was beginning to appear bleaker and bleaker. The next standard galactic year was fast approaching, and she did not know how to explain the losses to the shareholders. 

Whilst deep in thought, a soft hiss disturbed the silence.

Shu Mai looked up. Her two MagnaGuards remained motionless beside the entrance, electrostaffs held upright. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary. 

Was there something wrong with the door? An air compressor leak in the environmental controls? 

Then one of the droids lost their head. The metal skull struck the floor with a heavy clang, rolling towards her. Before the second droid could react, a crimson blade emerged from its chest. The weapon seemed to vanish, flash again, and severed the machine down the center. 

Both halves crashed across the polished stone of the office leaking molten metal. 

A figure stepped from the distortion of an active stealth field. Black wrappings covered a lean humanoid body, while a smooth mask concealed every feature except two narrow eye slits. The assassin carried a short lightsaber in one hand, its red blade casting a bloody reflection across the office walls.

Shu Mai’s hand darted beneath her desk towards a button to trigger an escape pod. In an instant her desk would whoosh down, and travel to the crust of Felucia towards a secret facility. 

The assassin raised two fingers in response. An invisible force seized Shu Mai's wrist and shattered her fingers, stopping her less than an inch short from pressing the button.

“Do you have any idea who I am?” Shu Mai demanded in a pained hiss, struggling to keep the tremor from her voice. “Whatever you were promised, I can multiply it tenfold.”

The masked figure advanced without answering.

“Twentyfold, credits, starships, entire corporations. I can make you a governor.” Shu Mai slowly and steadily said. She had long dismissed fear from her heart, a CEO of her caliber was accustomed to such dangerous negotiations. 

The assassin stopped on the opposite side of her desk. For one hopeful moment, Shu Mai thought greed had prevailed. Then the intruder spoke, the voice was androgynous, and heavily modified. 

“The Sith have no further use for you.”

Shu Mai’s eyes widened. “But I served Lord Sidious. I funded his war.”

“Lord Vader is our master now.” The Sith Assassin coldly declared. 

The assassin’s free hand tightened. Shu Mai was torn from her chair and dragged across the desk, scattering datapads and financial reports onto the floor. She clawed at her throat as an unseen grip closed around it.

“Wait! I know things. Accounts. Names. Facilities-”

The assassin was a professional, and without further words, rammed their blade into the President's chest, extinguishing her life, and tossing her aside like some insignificant insect. 

Shu Mai fell behind her desk, and the glow of the lightsaber vanished with a snap-hiss.

The assassin collected the fallen datapads, placed a black Imperial cipher-key beside the body, and activated the office’s emergency purge. Flames raced through the computers as every record in Shu Mai’s private archive began copying itself to the usb, then erased itself.

By the time the fortress alarms sounded at the discovery of Shu Mai's corpse, the assassin had already disappeared into the shadows.

All that remained of the Commerce Guild’s CEO was a smoldering office, two ruined guards, and a final lesson written in blood: 

The Empire was coming for you. A new Lord was in town. 

~~~~~~~~~

The skies above Murkhana burned.

Corporate Alliance defense platforms hurled torrents of emerald turbolaser fire into orbit, but the Imperial fleet seemed endless. Gray wedges of Star Destroyers emerged from hyperspace one after another, their ranks stretching across the heavens until they blotted out the stars themselves. TIE fighters poured from their hangars in black swarms, overwhelming Corporate Alliance interceptors through sheer numbers.

Inside the gleaming headquarters of the Corporate Alliance, alarms screamed in warning as everything seemed to be falling apart. 

"Shield Generator Three has failed!"

"The western defense grid is offline!"

"They're landing walkers!"

Passel Argente stood before the command holotable listening to doomed report after doomed report. His normally immaculate orange robes were unkempt like a homeless man's garb, and sweat drenched his green-skinned forehead. As he watched red Imperial icons consume the tactical display sector by sector, he felt a sickness like vomit roil in his stomach. Passel's face remained composed, but the tightening of his jaw betrayed the fear beneath this thin veneer. 

"Transmit on every military frequency, contact our subsidiaries, our member corporations, anyone! Then broadcast to the Separatist fleets, the Hutts, independent systems... anyone willing to oppose the Empire. I want every favor called in, I want reinforcements!” He ordered his comms officer. 

The man sitting nearby swallowed drily, and hurried to type away. 

"Sending now."

Seconds passed, and a distressing beeping noise came from the comm officer's station. 

"Sir…we can't get through, we're being jammed!” 

Another technician looked up from his console. "Massive broadband jamming is blocking our signal. They're blanketing every known frequency. Long-range hyperspace communications are completely suppressed."

Passel's eyes widened. They hadn't even detected the enemy in hyperspace. Was he to die here due to a spy, an internal competitor, or corporate espionage?! 

A violent explosion shook the tower. Ceiling panels rained sparks across the command center as the lights flickered. Another report arrived soon after the strike. 

"Lord Chairman! Imperial forces have breached the southern industrial district! The orbital elevator has been destroyed! They're cutting us off piece by piece."

Passel stared blankly at the tactical map. Every escape route was gone. There were no reinforcements. He was…finished! The Imperial noose had tightened, and their time had come! 

Outside the panoramic viewport, another Corporate Alliance cruiser blossomed into a crimson fireball as concentrated turbolaser fire tore through its reactor. The wreck drifted downward toward Murkhana's atmosphere, trailing molten debris like a dying comet.

For the first time since the Clone Wars had begun, Passel Argente wondered if the Corporate Alliance itself had reached its final day. Eyeing a blaster, he wondered if it would be better to end it now, rather than to be captured, and paraded around as some propagandist victory. 

A sensor officer suddenly lurched forward, eyes fixed intently on his display. "Multiple hyperspace signatures!"

Every head in the command center snapped toward him.

"Imperial reinforcements?" One executive whispered.

The officer shook his head, almost unable to believe what he was seeing. "No...they're transmitting Confederate transponder codes. We're saved!” 

A tense atmosphere gripped everyone's hearts. Passel slowly eased off his blaster, daring to hope. 

Meanwhile, beyond the upper atmosphere of Murkhana, space rippled. Blue-white tunnels tore open across the darkness as dozens of warships emerged in perfect formation. Sleek Providence-class carriers were followed by Munificent frigates, Recusant Destroyers, and Lucrehulk battleships. Behind them came hundreds upon hundreds of escorts, their engines illuminating the void in brilliant sapphire.

At their center sailed the unmistakable flagship of Supreme Commander Sev'rance Tann, the experimental Umbra class super carrier Cold Nova. Her size dwarfed anything the Imperials currently fielded, and was a technological marvel. Marrying the vast resources of the CIS, Revan's genius computer skills, and Tann's own input, it cost a whopping 500 billion credits. Enough to field 5 entire fleets. Yet the results spoke for themselves. To date, Tann had yet to lose a single engagement when the Cold Nova took to the field. 

Aboard her flagship, Tann stood with her hands clasped behind her back, her crimson eyes studied the tactical projection within her command bridge. The Chiss commander's expression was calm, almost detached, despite the enormous Imperial fleet filling the display.

"They've committed everything to the siege." ST-661 said, his mechanical voice filled with implications.

"Precisely. Which means they've also committed themselves fully to this attack. Never in their wildest dreams would they imagine that it was I who leaked the weakness of the planetary shields, nor would they know which satellites to jam without my input. Those clone commanders are so woefully predictable, don't you think?” Tann said with a devilish grin. 

"They are stuck pushing out their landing craft, 90% of their fighters have already descended to the atmosphere, and their flanks are completely exposed. I calculate it will take them 3.4 minutes to turn the fleet around. By that time, our fighters will be-” ST-661 got out, pausing for dramatic effect as his processors told him this was the best method to stroke the Supreme Commander's ego. 

"Do not think I cannot see through your flattery, droid.” Tann said in a flat tone, yet her smirk could barely be contained. She had caught over 150 ships within this net. Three Legions had been sent to murder this Separatist stronghold. She would remind the Empire on this day why she was Supreme Commander. Remind Palpatine of his mistake in letting her rot in prison instead of allying with her. 

Her finger traced a series of vectors through the hologram, adjusting several flight paths of her troops in real time. 

"Their Star Destroyers have formed an encirclement around Murkhana, but in doing so they've reduced their own maneuvering space. Their communications vessel is positioned well behind the main line, vulnerable to attack. Meanwhile, our interdictors are poised to prevent retreat.” 

She smiled faintly, and began to methodically issue orders. Instead of charging directly toward the Imperial wall, the Confederate armada split into four independent task forces.

One surged high above the ecliptic plane, whilst another dove beneath it. The remaining two curved around opposite flanks, disappearing ‘left' and ‘right.’ 

Meanwhile, aboard the Imperial ships, klaxons were constantly ringing, and men were swearing at their starfighters to return to orbit. 

Before the Imperials could regroup, tens of thousands of droid-controlled starfighters burst forth, spitting hot death at them.

Within seconds, a communications ship disappeared beneath a storm of proton torpedoes before its captain even realized he had become the primary target.

The jamming field restricting Passel vanished instantly. On Murkhana, every communications console chimed at once.

Before the Imperial fleet could reorganize, Tann struck again. The four Confederate task forces converged from difficult to predict angles, forcing the Star Destroyers to turn toward multiple threats at once, creating mass confusion. Massive wedges of durasteel found themselves obstructing one another, eliminating their greatest strength: mass fire power. 

Several Imperial captains hesitated, unwilling to risk striking friendly ships. The droid fleet had no such reservations.

Munificent frigates unleashed pinpoint accurate broadsides into the gaps of friendly units as Providence carriers launched wave after wave of vultures and tri-fighters. Meanwhile, Recusant destroyers slipped through the widening fractures in the Imperial formation, concentrating fire on isolated Star Destroyers before moving on to the next target.

"They're dismantling us piecemeal!" An Imperial tactical officer shouted.

Aboard her flagship, Tann simply watched. Her crimson eyes narrowed in thought, her senses in the Force wide open. Whenever she foresaw a gap, she surged her troops forward. Whenever a surefire loss was to occur, she sacrificed starfighters to save capital ships. Like a grand chessmaster in their element, she traded the lives of her pawns to eliminate the Empire's Star Destroyers, their kings. 

One Imperial Star Destroyer exploded amidships after its reactor succumbed to concentrated fire. Another lost propulsion and drifted helplessly into the path of a sister ship, the collision sending both vessels tumbling out of formation.

Within half an hour, the once-orderly Imperial encirclement had dissolved into a chaotic melee.

Recognizing that continued engagement risked catastrophic losses, the senior Imperial commander finally transmitted the order every officer dreaded.

"All ships...withdraw."

The surviving Star Destroyers broke away, covering one another as they pushed their sublight drives to the maximum. Trying their hardest to leave. 

“Engage the Cold Nova Cannon.” Tann ordered. 

“Commander, the drain on our power will place our shields at risk, I advise-” ST-661 got out, before a sharp look had him press the appropriate buttons. “Firing.” 

The Cold Nova began to shimmer, and a bright blue light similar to the sun in intensity began to glow beneath her undercarriage. Seconds later, a blue ball of shrieking plasma sailed through the void of space. 

One of the less damaged Star Destroyers took it to the rear, instantly losing engines, and cutting all power. That energy orb…was an extremely powerful EMP! 

“ST-661, open a line. I shall now accept their surrender.” Tann said with a pleased look. 

Stepping away from the tactical screen, she sat back down on her command throne, crossed one leg over the other, and steepled her fingers. Revan had made such a big splash on Coruscant, and was busy playing kumbaya with his robed friends. She would remind him where his priorities lay. If he wanted the galaxy…he'd have to beg her for it. 

Back at the Corporate Alliance headquarters, cheers erupted throughout the compound. 

Passel Argente watched the last Imperial vessels surrender, and he allowed himself the smallest of smiles before turning toward the restored holoprojector. The blue image of Sev'rance Tann flickered to life, and he saluted her with an emotional sigh. 

"Our thanks, Commander, without your intervention, Murkhana would have fallen."

Tann inclined her head only slightly.

"The Corporate Alliance remains an essential pillar of the Confederacy. Allowing the Empire to remove it from the board would have been strategically unsound."

There was the faintest hint of amusement in her crimson eyes as she played with a dataslate. 

"That said, while I have you on the line, let's discuss a budgeting issue I've run into. After all, the Cold Nova Battlegroup is but one of several dozen armies I oversee~” 

Passel saw the numbers uploaded to his own dataslate, and once more swallowed drily. He then glanced down at his blaster pistol once more, his heart full of regret. Damn this blue woman, she's greedier than a Hutt! 

Tann, meanwhile, merely grinned. I'll prove to you, Revan. Only I am worthy of being your equal. 

~~~~~~

AN: Next week's ch are hype. Now that the “good guys” have had some screen time, I can't wait to show off what's next.