CoS 46

22 BBY

A dust storm howled outside the facility, one that would drive people indoors even if it wasn’t already deep into the planet’s night cycle. Tan’ya timed their attack to coincide with the late hour, so that the only people in the facility should be the night shift, and the weather only made things easier. No one was likely to be out on the streets of the worker’s village, reducing the chance of a good samaritan reporting what they saw to the planetary authorities. 

Spreading her consciousness over the entire facility, penetrating all the domes and walk ways, she found just a handful of personnel still at work. Someone was in the office upstairs, working on some kind of report at this late hour, and another was sitting in the security room, feeling very very bored. Tan’ya had a vague impression that he was playing around with the planetary map, rather than keeping an eye on his security monitors. There were a few others around the place, carrying out various tasks with bored indifference. The rest of the facility was patrolled by security droids, who had no presence in the Force at all.

Despite the importance of the Federation’s Strategic Hypermatter Reserve, this facility hadn’t been threatened since it was first created. There was a legion of droids on standby, but as long as no blaster shots were fired, the facility’s sensors shouldn’t go off automatically. 

The temporary storage room they were in was locked from the outside and password protected, but the staff of this facility weren’t above selling information for credits. One of the House Guard used a simple drill to bore through the storage room door, then he fed a cable with a computer jack on the end of it through. Using the Force, Tan’ya guided the cable to the digital lock’s terminal and plugged it into the port. The slicer spent a few moments working his machine, before it buzzed and the door unlocked. 

Next, Tan’ya reached out with her mind and connected to the bored security guard sitting in his office. She used the light side to wash away any feelings of irritation, boredom or discomfort, and allowed herself to be filled with peace, before carefully, slowly sharing those feelings with him. It took a while, but slowly as she meditated, she felt ease and comfort spread through his body, before finally his consciousness wavered and he fell asleep. 

Tan’ya separated her consciousness from his and shook herself awake. “Let’s go.” She ordered.

As one, the team of royal guards moved through the massive facility, all the droid patrols and sensor areas known well in advance thanks to their informants on the inside. Without anyone the wiser or a shot fired, Tan’ya and her crew entered the security center, and found their lonely neimoidian security guard asleep in his chair.

Perhaps it was just a result of the lingering feelings she shared with the poor man, but she couldn’t bear to watch as three of her House Guards moved in sync, one wrapped a strangle cord around his throat, and the other two to hold his arms in place. Awoken suddenly, the poor security guard struggled and fought, but to no avail. His bulbous eyes almost seemed to pop out of their sockets as they became more and more bloodshot, before finally all his kicking and struggling ceased, and his mind faded out. None of Tan’ya’s House Guard felt even a moment of sympathy for the hated alien. Without a word said, they bundled the dead man into the break room, and hid him in a cabinet. 

The one office drone working late hours was given no chance to alert anyone or raise an alarm. Tan’ya felt the last moment of his life as he panicked when six black armoured figures appeared, and shared in the sensation of the lukewarm caff stim that spilled over his lap in the rush to stand up. His death was quick; shot several times in the chest, frying and bursting his heart in moments. One by one, her men efficiently hunted down all the remaining workers, until at last no life signs remained inside other than her own men. With access to the facility’s security systems, it wasn’t long before they had control of the entire building.

The last thing to check before they proceeded with the next phase of the operation was their smuggler on the landing pad. He was still there, as ordered by his boss in the Ring, apparently sleeping the night away. He didn’t need to die, but they did need his ship. Tan’ya took out her compad, and sent him a message, instructing the man to meet their representative at the landing pad door.

Of course he was surprised when he was greeted by a pair of fully armoured House Guards, but his instructions were to let the men aboard, and he didn’t dare resist. With his two new supervisors in the pilot’s cabin with him, there was no risk that he would attempt to do something foolish or heroic.

With all the preparations in place, Tan’ya began to do what she really came here for. It took her and her slicer about twenty minutes to upload a new routine to the system’s droid control computer, and only ten seconds to dismiss all the warnings that immediately popped up.

Awakening from low power mode, all the droids in the largely automated facility got to work following their new instructions. They went through, and began opening every single seal on every single individual vial of hyper matter in the facility, exposing them to the evening air.

Often overlooked, but never unimportant was the role of resources in a war. From the ancient days of bickering city states, through the medieval period and the invention of gunpowder, the ability to wage war depended on the gathering and maintaining of certain materials. From simple food that fed soldiers, to fodder for horses, to black powder for guns, and eventually diesel for machinery. All of these things were the fuel of war, and when considered in their own eras, victory would be impossible without them.

In the Galaxy’s current era, true power came from starships. Obviously, infantry forces played an important role in taking and holding worlds, but fundamentally, victory at a Galactic scale was only possible with the ships needed to move men and materials between the stars. The Federation had more ships, and so they had an advantage over the Alliance that could not be easily overcome with things as common as clever tactics or heroic bravery. Victory against the Federation would only be possible if they no longer had the advantage in starships, and those starships were dependent on hypermatter.

Hypermatter was a synthetic material that could only be made on high gravity worlds whose surface was carefully cut away to expose its core to the radiation of particular stars. These blasting pits existed all over the Galaxy, as the conditions necessary to make them were not rare, but building and maintaining them was extremely expensive. In addition, the effect that hypermatter blasting pits had on a natural environment were absolutely devastating. The Corporate Sector had several blasting pits, but not nearly enough to cover the needs of the heavily industrialised sector. Most of their hypermatter had to be imported. 

Which was why Tan’ya was now here, in the heart of the Sector, where the strategic hyper matter reserve was kept. Hypermatter was an extremely potent material, the same properties that allowed it to propel ships at faster than light speeds made it horrifically dangerous. Many times throughout history, poorly maintained ships had been lost when their fuel vaporised in a chain reaction. An uncontrolled hypermatter destabilisation was an event of incredible power, fully capable of destroying a full sized battleship with just a hundred thousand tons of the stuff. 

This facility contained enough hypermatter to keep the entire Trade Federation fleet fueled for the next three months, almost a trillion tons of it. Now all of that power was just awaiting a spark. 

Tan’ya checked her chronometer, confirming they had about an hour until the staff of the facility were due to start arriving at work.

Reaching up to her com-beed, Tan’ya pressed it three times, letting her men know it was now time to move to phase three of the plan. 

As they converged on the landing pad, Tan’ya and her six House Guards. They climbed up the steps into the smuggler’s nondescript cargo freighter, as he watched nervously.

“I, uh… I-”

“Be quiet.” Tan’ya told him, as she slid into the pilot’s chair. She quickly ran the ship through its start up procedures, and without hesitating or waiting took off. The planet’s flight authorities immediately picked up on her ascent without a flight path, and shot her several warning messages.

“We’ll get boarded!” The smuggler moaned, fearfully.

The freighter was just leaving the planet’s atmosphere when two of the port’s patrol vessels began to tail them. They repeatedly broadcasted demands and warnings that Tan’ya allow herself to be boarded, or they would ionize her ship. Ion weapons were a real threat, frying a ship’s electronics, and crippling it, but not harming anyone inside. Even if they weren’t to be blasted out of the sky, Tan’ya had no intention of falling into enemy hands. 

She quickly typed up and sent a message from her holocom, then Phase 4 of the plan began.

A Lucrehulk waiting just beyond the edge of the Nonadon System was propelled into hyperspace, and left it almost immediately after as it raced towards the planet. The communications channel of the freighter was suddenly flooded with panicked calls, demanding the crew of the Lucrehulk respond, but no answer was received. As it passed, the two patrol ships fired on it, desperate to stop its descent, but lacking the firepower to do so in time. 

Without waiting to see the results of her actions, Tan’ya accelerated towards the edge of the Star System, running hyperspace calculations as she did. Behind her, the descending Lucrehulk crashed into the hypermatter depot, and suddenly there was a blinding flash of white. Tan’ya and her men wore helmets, with light shielding, they winced slightly at the surge but were fine, but the Zabrak pilot cried out in pain, and fell to the floor in panic, covering his eyes with reflex. 

He wasn’t the only one. Tan’ya had to close herself off from the Force to drown out the waves of fear and pain rolling off the planet below. Bonadon wasn’t a densely populated world, but the strategic reserve was planted right next to a company town that held tens of thousands. Even miners working thousands of kilometers away from the source of the explosion would have felt the ground shake and seen the blinding flash.

The men she was with felt nothing but elation at victory, and had no remorse even for the alien in their midst, even as he was crying out in pain and begging for help. They were chosen for that reason. They were the most loyal to Serenno in all the House Guard, the ones whose hatred of the alien was strongest. When they thought of a million alien lives on Bonadon, suffering and dying from radiation poisoning, they only considered it a punishment well earned.

Tan’ya swallowed, ignoring the sick feeling in her stomach. Now was not the time to be overcome by princessly squeamishness, they still had to make good their escape. No matter what else could be said, their actions today made victory against the Trade Federation possible.

No fuel, no fleet. It was that simple. With the Alliance controlling the Hydian and the Salzin Corridor, the Trade Federation wouldn’t be able to import nearly enough starship fuel. With their strategic reserves destroyed, all Federation fleets now operated on borrowed time.

It was a great and necessary victory, but before her ship accelerated to hyperspace, Tan’ya couldn’t help one glance back at the planet as it shrunk in the nav display, and the great black dust cloud that now rolled across its surface in a radioactive sand storm. People not caught directly in the blast could still survive. She had to remind herself that there were treatments for radiation in this Galaxy.

But we’ll be blockading those, too.

Her transponder lit up with dozens of Federation patrol vessels, mostly light freighters, but also a pair of Lucrehulks, demanding she slow down and return for questioning. Rather than reply, she accelerated to hyperspace. 

It was obvious where she was going, straight down the Hydian, and she did it that way for a reason. “Everybody buckle up!” She ordered. “Interdictor will be coming up in ten minutes!”

All her men sat down and strapped in, but the smuggler was still blinded and confused. “Who are you people?! Why are you doing this?!”

“We’re part of the Alliance, and we’ve commandeered your ship.” Tan’ya answered, then used the Force to direct him to one of the seats with. “Can you buckle yourself in?”

The poor zabrak whimpered, but did as instructed. He fumbled with the belts, but managed to get himself tied down after a few false starts.

“Sound off, anyone else injured?”

None of the House Guard replied. 

“Alright. You, civilian.”

“Me?” The smuggler said.

“That’s right. We’re going to be entering into combat soon, and potentially taking evasive action. Remain in your seat, the last thing we want is an unsecured body bouncing about the cabin.”

“Combat?!” The smuggler moaned, and pressed his head into his hands. 

The drop from Hyperspace to real space was a sudden lurch that pitched Tan’ya’s stomach forward, much more harshly than a normal hyperspace deceleration would. Behind her the zabrak puked, and Tan’ya had to grit her teeth in frustration as the smell hit her nose.

In front of her, the Serenno House Fleet was arrayed, along with five Lucrehulks. Of the six that had been captured, one of them had been used at Bonadon, leaving just these five. It wasn’t possible to really crew or maintain the battleships without access to Federation factories and the particular variety of parts they produced exclusively, but it was still possible to pilot and direct them due to their extremely automated nature. To keep crew salaries low, Federation ships had an incredibly small bridge crew, with the vast majority of the ship’s systems being automated by droids. That made it possible for the Alliance to put them to good use, after the droids were reprogrammed. 

The Fleet was arrayed just beyond the edge of Federation space, at the furthest edge of the Cadomai Sector from the planet itself. It was only a thirty minute jump down the Hydian from Bonadon, and it was mere moments after Tan’ya arrived that Asajj reached out to her.

In her mind’s eye, Tan’ya pictured two Lucrehulks giving chase. That was what had been in the system above Bonadon, and that was what was chasing her now.

Soon enough, the two Federation Patrol Fleet Lucrehulks ran into the interdiction field, and were dragged back to real space just in time to realise their own doomed fate. Accelerating to their top speeds, two of the Serenno fleet’s captured Lucrehulks bore down on them like a pair of unstoppable asteroids, throwing aside all laser fire thanks to their powerful shields. Like two interlocking chain links, both pairs of lucrehulks fit perfectly into each other’s C-shaped curve, until their large, exposed engine core mashed into each other, and were crushed by each other’s weight before exploding violently. Both the captured Lucrehulks and the Federation Lucrehulks were destroyed in an instant, throwing the eight smaller ships that remained of the enemy fleet into disarray. 

The Federation’s Battlecruiser’s struggled to recover from the shock of losing both their flagships, as the better prepared Serenno fleet pounced on them. Not expecting to run into a battle this close to the borders of Corporate Space, the collection of Munificent Frigates and long, narrow Providence Class Destroyers, were mauled badly by the enemy. There were ten ships from the Serenno House Fleet, and they were able to disable and destroy two of the enemy destroyers and one of the Frigates, as Tan’ya watched the battle unfold from the bridge of the little smuggler's freighter. 

Suddenly Asajj’s mind reached across the void between the ships, sending feelings of warning to Tan’ya. The exact contents of the warning weren’t clear, but the idea was clear. Time to retreat. No doubt the surviving Federation ships had called for reinforcements, and now a much larger force was on its way. 

The last of the captured Lucrehulks began to maneuver towards what remained of the enemy fleet, but Tan’ya doubted that same attack would work again after it was witnessed once. To make the kamikaze attack possible, the ships had to be piloted by a set of particularly stupid droids who lacked even the most basic programming for self preservation. They would be able to do little more than fly directly at an enemy who maneuvered around them easily. While what was left of the Federation fleet scattered like minnows before the lumbering forms of the Lucrehulks, the rest of the House Fleet spooled up their own hyperdrives, and prepared to jump again. 

Then in short order, they were away once more, disappearing back up the Hydian, leaving ruin in their wake. Tan’ya’s mind was already racing ahead, to the final phase of the plan, the ambush her father had prepared ahead, at Oshetti IV. With any luck there would be one more serious blow against the Federation today.

-----

Grib Siv had only just started his morning exercises when one of his aides approached with a nervous look on his face.

“Just give me the bad news.” Grib grunted, but didn’t stop his jogging. Keeping up a good speed under 1.5 gravity was hard, he had a thick lather of white froth pouring from his lips and down over his body as a result of the brutal workout. He raised his hand, and someone came over to spray a fine mist over him, helping him to keep cool and helping wash away some of the mess. “Go on, spit it out.”

“There’s been an attack at Bonadon.”

Bonadon. Bonadon. Grib didn’t remember anything about Bonadon. Wasn’t it just a barren desert world? “What was damaged?”

“Sir, our entire three month strategic reserve of hypermatter is gone.”

It took a moment for that to process, and when it did Grib almost tripped and fell.  “Gravity back to normal!” He barked, slowing his jogging as he considered the implication of that. “What are hypermatter prices right now?”

“Currently, they’re quadruple what they were twenty four hours ago.” One of his aids  replied.

Grib snatched up a bottle of water, and took a long swig. Unless the Zygerrian fleet was able to take Ranroon, the Alliance would have the Corporate Sector choked off from the rest of the Galaxy, and Hyper Matter prices inside the Corporate Sector were going to be even higher than those outside of it. The problem with carrying goods along the Hydian was that it was too long and too exposed. With so many Alliance ports along the route, any ships carrying goods to the Corporate Sector would be taking a massive risk of it being stolen or destroyed. The Serenno House Fleet didn’t need to be very large to stop merchant traffic, and the fleet at Botajef was large enough to be a genuine threat in its own right. 

Right now, the plan to take the Hydian wasn’t quite as clear yet. There was no quick and easy victory there, the Federation would have to peel back each port one by one to take control over the hyperlane. Grib’s thinking was that by taking Ranroon, and knocking the Tion Cluster out of the war sooner, they would be able to pressure Botajef and Serenno on two fronts, a more attractive prospect than having to fight his way through Serreno, Celanon, and Toprawa just to get to Botajef, which was where the real threat was coming from. Victory over the Alliance meant seizing or disabling the shipyards at Raxus Prime and Botajef. Anything else would be a stalemate that demonstrated Federation weakness, rather than strength.

“Have we heard back from Admiral Septu yet?” He demanded. “What’s his progress on retaking Ranroon?”

“He hasn't contacted us since you gave the order.”

“Call him.” Grib snapped. “Call him, right now. We’re short on time and he needs to get moving.”

The aid got out his holocom and quickly dialed. It wasn’t long before Grib was looking down at the face of Septu, whose small form looked up from Grib’s palm. Even from several star systems away, Grib could have sworn he could taste the admiral’s fear stink from here.

“Admiral, you were ordered to occupy the Ranroon sector six hours ago. Explain yourself.”

“Viceroy, the fleet isn’t ready for combat.” The words practically spilled out of Septu as rushed to defend himself. “We don’t have nearly the amount of fighter fuel or tibanna gas as previous reports led me to believe.”

“What?!” Grib snarled. “Why?!”

“Many of the captains have been skimming the reserves, and selling them for credits-”

“What?!” Grib shouted, in disbelief. “What is the state of your fleet's reserves?”

Septu swallowed, trying to keep calm. “Sir, this practice was in place long before I came, it’s almost universal across the entire patrol fleet! Some officers just consider it extra income when they’re jockeying for assignments. Why, I-”

“Answer the damn questions!” Grib snarled. “Do you have enough fuel to secure Ranroon or not?”

“...Viceroy, my fleet has mostly full hypermatter hoppers. We could make the jump to Ranroon, and maybe even fight a battle there and win it, but after that, we would be stuck waiting for resupply. The real problem is that I don’t have enough fuel rods to sustain our full force of fighter droids. We would effectively be fighting at half strength.”

Grib felt like his glands were almost popping, like the heat of his anger was boiling the water under his skin. He was out of fuel? How could he be out of fuel, when the war had only been declared a day ago?! 

Through grit teeth, he growled out, “It’s your job to maintain your fleet, Admiral.”

“Viceroy, please understand. The Zyggerian sector fleet I was put in command of ten years ago was nothing like it is now. I commanded ten Lucrehulks and forty smaller ships. There was no expectation of combat. Even the new ships you’ve put under my command were drawn from the rest of the Corporate Sector, and faced with the same circumstances. None of us thought we’d actually have to go to war!”

“How much have you made from skimming or fuel?” Grib Siv demanded. “Got your nice little retirement gem back on the Purse Worlds? A hundred green acres and a few bono beasts? You know Captain, I bet your wife is real happy with all the gifts you’ve been able to afford for her lately.”

Septu grimaced, swallowing. “Admiral.” He corrected. “I’m not a captain, I’m an admiral.”

“Not any more, you’re not!” Grib screamed, his eyes popping with outrage. “You’re fired! You hear me?! Fired! Get out! Get out right now! Your pension? Gone! Your kids? blacklisted. They’ll never work in the Corporate Sector again, you hear me? Your family is going to be beggars for the next hundred generations! If you’re still in that office and uniform by the time the security droids arrive to escort you out, they’ll tear that uniform right off you!”

With that, he hung up, fists shaking with outrage. “Get me the fleet commander at Reltooine. We’re going to reassign him to the Zyggerian Sector. What was his name again?” Grib snapped his fingers, trying to remember.

“Sir, Hekknar is unavailable.” 

Grib turned around, looking at his aid in disbelief. “What?! Why?!”

“He’s currently engaged in an action on the Hydian.”

“Who ordered that?!” Grib demanded. “I didn’t order that?! What’s he doing?!” Seething, Grib quickly used his own personal compad to dial Hekknar. The phone rang once, twice, before finally it was answered.

Hecknar was currently seated, likely in his command chair aboard the bridge of his flagship. For some reason he was the one who already looked angry, not Grib.

“Viceroy, I’m a little busy.”

“What’s going on Hecknar? Why are you advancing down the Hydian?”

“Sir, I had a report sent to you. After the attack on the Bonadon refinery, a ship was chased away from the scene by the patrol fleet there, but the patrol fleet was ambushed at Cadomai by the Serenno House Fleet. They took heavy damage and called for reinforcements. By the time my fleet arrived, the Serenno House Fleet was already retreating in disarray. I am currently in pursuit of the Serenno House Fleet. We’ll bring those bastard to justice for what they did today.”

Grib blinked at the moment, mind racing. “Wait you fool! Don’t you see?! The Bonadon fleet was lured into a trap at Cadomai, and now you’re chasing the Serenno Fleet?! They’re leading you into a blasted trap, you fool!” 

Hecknar stared up at Grib’s face from the palm of his hand, before comprehension dawned. “What should I do?”

“Turn around and come back, you fool!” Grib snarled. “Stop now before it’s too late!”  

Hecknar nodded quickly, and immediately began issuing orders to his fleet. Grib sighed, hanging up and leaving the man to it. 

“Alright.” He considered his next steps. “Call an emergency board meeting. We’re going to have to come up with a plan to find more Hypermatter. And get some of our lawyers on the line. I need to know what the blowback will be if I start requisitioning hypermatter from our clients.” Mouth keeping pace with his thoughts, Grib rattled off a series of commands that his aides dutifully took down, even as he changed out of his workout clothes and into a nice set of formal robes.

What an absolute disaster this day had been, and it wasn’t even breakfast yet. Still, it was hardly like the day could get any worse from here. At least he’d managed to avert one crisis.

-----

After watching and waiting for several hours, Ky Narec finally received the sign he’d been waiting for. It wasn’t anything specific, just a heightened sense of confusion in the Zyggerrian Sector. 

Taking out his holocom, Ky dialed his scouts. “Status report, what’s changed?”

One of the scouts wasn’t on the call, apparently away, but the one who remained looked surprised. “I was about to call you. Our informant is placed next to one of the Federation Commodores, and word has it that the Sector Admiral was dragged out of his office by a squadron of Battle Droids. He’s been relieved of duty.”

Ky almost couldn’t believe his luck. “And who’s his replacement?”

“That’s the thing! It’s been hours, and no one has been announced as his replacement. Currently, the Vice Admiral just called for a meeting with the Fleet Commodores, trying to get them to recognise him as the acting commander until a replacement arrives, but none of them are willing to go to the meeting because they’re afraid it will look like insubordination to the next guy.”

“Great work.” Ky hung up and turned to face the rest of the bridge. He’d been prepared for this moment for a while now. His hyperspace jump had been plotted since he took Ranroon, and the fleet had been in a state of alert for this exact moment. “We’re jumping in five, people! Five minutes! Set the clock.”

-----

Former Admiral Septu paced back and forth, glancing at his clock, at his orders, at his holocom, then back again. Minutes passed in an agonising crawl, his heart thudding painfully in his chest as it did. Fired! Him? After working so hard, for so long, Septu was fired. He swallowed, dabbing a handkerchief at his glands, and tried to compose himself, but failed. 

He felt like weeping. What was he going to do without his salary? Without the kickbacks his officers sent him for the fuel they skimmed? He’d made financial commitments, and now he had no idea how he could meet them.

This wasn’t his fault! This wasn’t fair! He was in his last year of service before retirement, and he hadn’t politicked his way into command of the crucial Zyggerian sector fleet because he actually planned to see battle, but here he was expected to command the largest military action the Galaxy had seen in a thousand years? Who was the genius that had that idea?!

There was a pounding at his door, and Septu lurched around to face it. He swallowed once, before answering it. The droids had given him five minutes to collect his things from his personal quarters, and now that five minutes was up. With hurried movements and shaking hands, he had swapped into a set of comfortable civilian robes, and jammed all of his personal effects into a bag, and now he was to leave. 

The few crew members aboard the lucrehulk watched as Septu was escorted out, whispering excitedly among themselves. A new spot at the top of the fleet had opened up, and there would be a chance for a promotion soon.

Septu was unceremoniously shoved into cargo freighter, and not even given the dignity of returning to Neimoidia on a ship. Instead he was sent straight to Zygerria’s surface, watching his fleet shrink away. He stewed in resentment and bitterness, cursing Grib Siv in his heart, right up until the moment a swarm of enemy fighters exited hyperspace.

Flashes of blue and red lit up the void as proton torpedoes ran uncontested straight into stationary targets. Septu watched, shocked, as the fleet didn’t respond for almost five minutes, even as half a dozen ships burned. He didn’t even know how long it was until at last someone started to scramble the vulture droids independently, and then finally the other lucrehulk captains followed suit in staggered and haphazard disarray.

Why did they take so long? Vice-Admiral Tonngrub should have been in charge, now that Septu was removed. 

Then he blinked in shock, as a cold realization swept over him.

No one is in charge! Grib Siv had relieved him of duty before appointing a new commander, and now Tonngrub had been trying to wrestle control of the fleet from the commodores! Now battle was here, and the fleet had no commander.

Septu could only watch as the biggest military disaster the Galaxy had seen in a thousand years unfolded behind him. After a while, Septu couldn’t help the smile that crept over his face as he sat down, and took out his personal compad. Of course Grib was going to try and pin the blame on Septu, but the fool had cut off his own hand hours before battle and now anyone could see where the blood was coming from even if he hid the stump behind his back. Mere minutes before a major military engagement, Grib had fired his commanding officer and then failed to find a replacement. The whole Galaxy would see he had no one but himself to blame.

Instead of feeling despondent, or fearful, Septu was actually quite pleased. Only the Force knows what would have happened to him if he was still with the fleet when the Alliance arrived. He wasn’t sure of his own ability to win a battle on a good day, but, with just a little spin, Septu could even position himself as the hero who tried to warn Grib about the state of the Zygerrian fleet. Maybe his pension wouldn’t be secured, but with a little work and some lucre grease applied to the right places, Septu might even be able to land in a senior position with the Neimoidian Home Defence Legions. This could even be the start of his own political career as a valiant reformer.

Going through his holocom contacts, Septu brought up a reporter he knew on Coruscant, smiling devilishly to himself. He pressed the dial, mumbling to himself. “I like profits, I want revenge, so why shouldn’t I have both?”