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Admiral Trench, Commanding Officer of the Confederate 2nd Fleet Group, had been under no illusions of the monumental undertaking put before him. Whilst they had not been able to deal the knockout blow to the Confederate heartworlds that would end the war early, the Grand Army of the Republic had nonetheless been able to push the Separatist State to the edge of the cliff with their lightning Operation Trident. Once it had become apparent they wouldn’t be able to reach the Tion Hegemony as initially planned–in no small part thanks to the brave struggle of the Perlemian Coalition–the GAR had cut their losses on the border on the Outer Rim and settled in to entrench the front.

It was that entrenched front that Admiral Trench and his fleets had to shatter, if Operation Storm-Door was to succeed. The stakes were high; there was no front as crucial as the Perlemian Front, the home front. Admiral Kirst could fight a protracted retreat in the north, and General Ambigene could dole out his brutal campaign in the south, but at the doorstep of the Confederate homeworlds, the 2nd Fleet Group was metaphorically and practically under the ever-scrutinising eye of the Separatist Senate.

Trench’s counteroffensive will have to be lightning swift, and yet also clean and precise in order to maintain the optics of a victorious liberation campaign. Quick, and clean. Two words that, put together, become the worst nightmare of any military officer. There was quick and dirty, as General Ambigene and Admiral Kirst tended towards. There was clean and thorough, as General Tann and General Farstar would like it. Traditional military convention stresses that there was no such thing as quick and clean. And yet, that was what was demanded of Admiral Trench, and the old Harch was always up for a challenge.

For this reason, he suspected, that the Supreme Commander of the Confederate Armed Forces put Admiral Trench to command of the most important yet delicate theatre of the war. It was a political appointment as much as it was a militarily-motivated one, and considering the timing of it, he could smell the hands of Calli Trilm all over it. Not that he disagreed, of course. As the most proven fleet admiral of the Confederacy, second only to the Pantoran herself; and as the most veteran officer of the Confederacy, second only to the Tombmaker himself, there was no more natural choice than the old Harch.

And yet, Admiral Trench was also General Sev’rance Tann’s only rival in the CAF, politically and militarily. By putting him to the home front–she earns the confidence of the bureaucrats and support of the rival military factions–and the Supreme Commander can only strengthen her position no matter what happens. If he is victorious, she enjoys his laurels, and if he is not, she shrugs off the blame.

Admiral Trench naturally had no intention of shouldering any blame.

From their base of operations at Columex, the Confederate 2nd Fleet Group made their plans for the upcoming offensive. First, a half-thousand ship strong fleet would embark west on the Salin Corridor, with the intent of reaching the Republic fortress world straddling the spacelane, Phindar.

Second, a thousand-ship strong contingent under the command of Rear Admiral Merai, including both star dreadnoughts Subjugator and Malevolence, would launch themselves down the Perlemian Trade Route. This central thrust would occupy the attention of the GAR Sector Fleets in the AO, including the 12th and 3rd. Their fight would be the most difficult, as the GAR had established a string of hidden deepspace fortresses, shipyards, and bases along the frontier, from which secret fleets could strike to and fro the hyperlane.

Despite Separatist Naval Intelligence’s best efforts, these fortresses remained largely elusive. As long as they remained active, however, the sheer strategic threat they posed meant that any protracted action on the Republic Perlemian was doomed for failure. They had to be dealt with, one way or another.

That was where the main thrust of the attack would come in. Fifteen-hundred warships under Admiral Trench himself would circumnavigate the entire front by sweeping up from Saleucami in the south and driving straight to the Roche System deep in Loyalist space, effectively encircling the entire front. With this manoeuvre, those hidden Republic fortresses would eventually starve of food and supplies, and the Foundry of the Confederacy could be liberated.

The timing of the attack was most crucial. It had to follow Operation Starlance, which was designed to draw the bulk of the Loyalist fleets away from the front. Trench was effectively dividing his three-thousand-strong armada into three smaller, more consumable divisions. There would be no point in striking at Roche if the GAR 3rd Sector Fleet could simply about-face and bring its full might down on him, trapped in hostile territory.

But first, Roche.

“Progress report, Admiral?” came the stern volume of Supreme Commander Sev’rance Tann.

The Harch Admiral clicked his mandibles and shook his head, “The Verpine are proving… contentious

. More than expected.

“This strategy is of your making, Admiral,” the blue-skinned alien reminded pointedly, opaque red glare boring into him, “We cannot afford to fail here.”

“I understand that more than anybody, General,” Trench tapped his cane against the deck, “We are making good progress nevertheless. The Roche Asteroid Field has been successfully blockaded, and there has been no more Loyalist supply fleets reaching the front.”

“Then what appears to be the issue?”

“The nature of the ‘battle’, General,” Trench answered without shame, “Or rather, ‘campaign’ would be a more accurate description.”

There was a special quirk about the Roche Star System that set it apart from the rest. It had no planets. Instead, the entire star system was dominated by a single massive asteroid belt, an endless expanse of rock and stellar metal orbiting a star. It was this asteroid belt that the Loyalist Verpine species called home. The insectoids, much like the Separatist Geonosians, were some of the best engineers in the galaxy, with a particular expertise in starship manufacturing. Since their entrance into galactic society, the Verpine have thus been staunch Loyalists, transforming their asteroid belt into a hub of industry and mining whilst propagating through their asteroid colony cities.

One could begin to see the challenges of trying to capture such a star system. Trying to starve them out through a prolonged blockade was ineffective as well, since the Verpine diet consists solely of a unique fungus grown within the asteroid agri-colonies of the system.

Thus began one of the most taxing and brutal military campaigns of the war, focused entirely in one star system. For the Loyalists, every asteroid was a fortress, bristling with hidden defences and treacherous terrain. For the Separatists, each advance was a nightmare of close-quarters combat, where warships had to navigate through narrow corridors of rock, their shields scraping against jagged surfaces, all while under relentless fire from Verpine weapons.

The Verpine, with their intimate knowledge of the asteroid belt, struck from every angle, disappearing into the shadows just as quickly as they emerged. Their advanced starfighters darted through the debris fields with uncanny precision, while their larger ships, camouflaged against the dark stone, launched ambushes that left entire Separatist squadrons shattered.

As the campaign dragged on, Trench’s fleet found themselves locked in a grinding war of attrition. Each asteroid captured came at a heavy cost, with ships and men lost to the unyielding environment as much as to Verpine resistance. The Droid Army, though relentless, were forced to adapt to the harsh realities of the Roche System. They resorted to blasting entire asteroids apart, hoping to flush out the Verpine defences hidden within. But for every asteroid destroyed, the Verpine simply relocated deeper into the belt, their resistance virtually undiminished.

Admiral Trench never expected the Roche Campaign to be a swift conquest, but this quickly devolving battle of endurance was admittedly taking a larger toll than he had calculated for. Every click of progress was paid for in blood and wreckage, and still, the Verpine held their ground, their colonies nestled safely within the shifting maze of the asteroid belt, apparently determined to resist until the last rock was pulverised. The Verpine had a reputation for idealist pacifism, but it seems that only extends so far as to the safety of their home.

“But you can take Roche?” the Supreme Commander questioned sharply, “If not, I would advise you to retreat. The GAR Third Sector Fleet shows signs of returning to the front soon, depending on the whims of the Republic Senate. Many of their divisions are already in the process of resupplying and turning around.”

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It has been two, three months since the threat of Operation Starlance had drawn the 3rd Sector Fleet back to the Core. Trench had hoped for a larger window to conduct his operation. Rear Admiral Merai had pushed the remnants of the 12th Sector Fleet back to the devastated world of Euceron, lifting the Siege of Ringo Vinda on route and poised to lift the Siege of Metalorn as well. Trench was admittedly unsure of how much worth Metalorn had left to the Confederacy, considering the GAR had slagged the planet’s crust, but he imagined it would be nothing some self-replicating factories couldn’t fix.

“Sooner than I would like–or expected,” Trench said as such, a well of unease pooling in his coxal glands, “How did you come about this development?”

Sev’rance Tann’s features were set grim, “The Republic made no secret of it. The HoloNet has been broadcasting a great Loyalist victory at Rendili for the entire galaxy to see. Reportedly, the Home Fleet of Admiral Honor Salima, along with the Jedi fleets of General Plo Koon and General Obi-Wan Kenobi had defeated the Perlemian Coalition’s Armada at Rendili. You will see it for yourself soon, I’d imagine, the footage of the claimed Separatist flagships wrecked in the debris field.”

“Can we confirm that those wrecks are authentic?” Trench asked carefully.

“From the footage?” the Supreme Commander clarified, “Yes. Our analysts conclude they are more legitimate than not. The GAR are so confident as to dissect their sublight drives to extract their full transponder codes–something that would only be possible if they were the actual ships themselves. Star of Serenno, and Chimeratica, Rain Bonteri’s adopted flagship post-Yag’Dhul. They want us to know. They are counting on it.”

Trench’s stateroom was filled with a tense quiet, and the old Harch felt his thorax shiver lightly as he stared out the portholes towards the sea of asteroids–bright flashes erupting from the depths of one segment as sixteen Separatist warships punched through the Corridor G147 towards a suspected Verpine industrial colony. Similar sights were happening concurrently all across the system. A whole thousand warships, dedicated to flushing out a single asteroid field.

“Have they shown

Rain Bonteri or Calli Trilm on the HoloNet?” Trench pressed further.

Tann’s features set even grimmer, if that was at all possible, and shook her head, wavy black hair drifting lightly.

“So they weren’t captured,” he muttered, mandibles clicking in frustration, “That or the Republic doesn’t wish to publicise their capture for whatever reason.”

“Unlikely,” Sev’rance Tann said.

“I tend to agree,” Trench concurred, “And have any survivors of the battle contacted us yet?”

“Not,” she paused, “Yet. Our agents report that the Rendili Home Defence Fleet had defected to the Separatist camp on the onset of the battle; something we are still investigating. That makes four participating Separatist fleets; the Rendili, the Bulwark Fleet, the Nineteenth, and the Twenty-Eighth. None of which have made any attempt to contact us. I have personally scoured every Separatist transceiver code on the front.”

“Which means either they have escaped,” Trench’s mechanical arm whirred as he tightened his grip on his cane, “Or more likely, they are dead. And the Republic couldn’t find their bodies.”

“Not at all unbelievable, considering the nature of space battles.”

“I will not argue with you there,” Trench conceded, “But this means… I imagine Parliament is clamouring for answers from you, and in the midst of the Serenno Transmissions affair as well.”

“I maintain that the survivors of the fleets are currently making their way back to Separatist space, and we should defer any hasty judgement until we can hear the truth from our spacers,” the Supreme Commander of the CAF told him, “I need your support in this regard.”

“And you will have it,” Trench pledged easily, “The Separatist State is already experiencing a political schism, it cannot afford a military schism as well. We can declare Calli Trilm, Rain Bonteri, and Dua Ningo to be missing in action until further notice. That can delay Parliament’s demands for answers for some time, at least.”

Now, more than ever, at least one facet of the Confederacy must remain united as the linchpin that holds the whole state together. And that was what the Confederate Armed Forces were right now. The hopes and dreams of every citizen and politician of the Confederacy was riding on their ships and soldiers. That was the founding principle of the Separatist State, and now that was the only thing holding the Separatist State together. Hopes and dreams.

“However,” Admiral Trench continued, “You did not foresee this? I’ve heard the Jedi can sense if a man is dead or alive, even from a galaxy away.”

“I am not like most Jedi,” Sev’rance Tann studied him carefully, “And I foresee little where Rain Bonteri is involved. I foresaw a successful Operation Starlance, which was why I permitted General Ambigene to bombard Eriadu.”

“And is that vision of yours still accurate?”

“I see possible futures, ever in flux as they are,” she replied with no small amount of disdain, “Because there is no such thing as the future. In a time as fickle as war, even as I learn these futures, the futures change yet, even more so if I speak of them to others. It is quite the dilemma.”

“I can imagine so,” Trench grunted, in no mood to speak on the metaphysics of time and causation, “Tell me this; will we win the war?”

Four pairs of red eyes met, and the Supreme Commander told him with all the conviction and belief he could only expect from her; “Yes.”

“Then that is all I need to hear,” Trench replied, satisfied, “By allowing Horn Ambigene to raise such a ruckus on the Rimma Trade Route, you raised him to such a threat level that Anakin Skywalker had to be redeployed to face him. If not for that… Anakin Skywalker may well have been present at Rendili as well. The fact that he wasn’t, could only mean the casket of our fleets have not been nailed shut just yet.”

The Pantoran’s grim expression lifted to a slightly bland smile, “I wonder what is the purpose of foresight if you can see through me so easily, Admiral.”

“I am old,” Admiral Trench chuckled, “And I have four more eyes than you.”

She held the small smile for a moment longer, and in that brief instant, the blue-skinned alien appeared less like the most powerful woman in the Outer Rim and more like a young lady savouring a rare moment of reprieve. Being the Supreme Commander was undoubtedly a burdensome role, as were all positions of great power. The responsibility of managing the galaxy\'s largest fleets and armies, the constant pressure to secure victories, and the weight of shouldering defeats—it all took its toll. Observing her closely, it was clear she had aged decades in the year since her appointment, with strands of grey already threading through her once raven-black waves.

Trench was not so heartless. He hated to break the smile.

“Operation Starlance achieved its primary purpose,” Trench made an attempt to console his rival and comrade-in-arms, “They raided the richest worlds of the Arrowhead, and hounded the critical supply lines of the agri-worlds. There is no discounting the impact they made on the war. Their sacrifice allowed us to liberate worlds once thought lost to us.”

“Has it?” the smile waned, “I may have prevented Skywalker from joining the Loyalists at Rendili, but that also means I pitted him against Ambigene. The Fourth Fleet Group has made eight offensives towards Yag’Dhul, and the Open Circle Fleet has beaten them back eight times. Wroona remains a contested world. In the north, Admiral Kirst has been forced to fall back to the gates of Serenno itself. Axxila and Vinsoth are under siege, and Loyalist fleets are poised to strike at Celanon–where Dooku’s hound Grievous resides. With the Serenno Transmissions affair, there is no knowing whether the cyborg is to be pitted against Coruscant, or Raxus Secundus.”

“Dooku will not make such a drastic and foolhardy move,” it was Trench’s turn to frown, “That is not the man I know.”

“That is the man I know,” the Pantoran murmured, “The man who would torture his apprentices at the slightest inconvenience. But no matter; I will deal with him as I deal with the Republic.”

“Does confidence fail to come to you, General?”

In response, Sev’rance Tann closed her red eyes in what Trench recognised to be one of those Force trances of hers, and he settled in to wait patiently. Five minutes later, her eyes opened.

“The outcome of the war will draw to a knife’s edge,” she told him, blank faced, “Who’s knife, I am unsure. But I do not recognise the galaxy-to-be, and that can only be a good omen.”

“Indeed,” Trench chittered, “A galaxy without a dominant Republic is one nobody who\'s lived in the past thousand years would recognise. Whatever happens, we have shaken this galaxy to a state where it will never be the same again.”

“My– our legacy will be intact,” the Supreme Commander decided, “Admiral Trench, I trust that I can leave the development of the home front in your capable hands. You may continue at your own discretion.”

Trench accepted the proverbial peace offer, drawing to his full height, “Much obliged, General. In light of the situation, I will withdraw from this failing effort in Roche and consolidate our gains in the Near-Perlemian. I will see to it that we are well-prepared for the GAR’s return. Operation Trident will not happen a second time.”

General Tann smiled at him and nodded, “Keep up the good work, Admiral. For the Confederacy.”

“For the Confederacy.”

Everything for the Confederacy. If four fleets and a million veteran spacers was what it would take, then so be it.