The Weaving Force: Chapter 108 (Patreon)

Chapter 108:

Sev’rance Tann

She’d been to Manaan only once in her life. 

She couldn’t help but think of it now.

Manaan was an ocean world with only one, single surface level city, Ahto. It was meant to cater to the non-amphibious aliens that visited the blue world. 

When she’d visited, she’d stood in one of the many open sky parks that dotted the surface of Ahto City and stared out towards the horizon where black roiling clouds and flashes of lightning could be seen, approaching inexorably. A giant, inescapable monster rumbling out of the impossible, abyssal oceans.

That’s what she felt now, orbiting a world that was the complete opposite of Manaan.

That ever growing… dread.

She knew every step that they took, of course. Between her own intelligence forces, spies, cooperators, probe droids and everything else… there was no way she could have missed their approach even if she would have tried to.

From Duro to Loronar, to Spirana, to Gamor, to Bacrana, to Christophsis

And finally… here.

That approaching, inescapable storm

When the first hyperspace disturbances lit up on their sensors, some of her organic aides, Neimoidians mostly, began to worry. Almost panicking. Their species truly were a cowardly lot. 

She didn’t need to listen to their readouts. Didn’t need to see the numbers of confirmed contacts going up and up and up.

She already knew.

It was the Corellians forming the vanguard, their formation almost like a diamond, angled forward. A literal speartip

And at the very point of it…

“T-three Praetor-Class vessels confirmed, Shipmistress!”

They were monstrous, glorious ships. Four times the size of a Venator, a slab of durasteel, guns and shields. Reserved for the defense of the most valuable of worlds, any single one of these titans could probably fight off a fleet single handedly.

Here, the Corellians had brought three.

The favors they must have called on to get them… 

Hate and revenge were magnificent motivators, really.

“Don’t panic.” She chastised her aid. “We prepared for this eventuality.”

“We prepared for one or two!” The Nemoidian  sputtered. “Not-”

She sighed. “I would rather not hear such bleating from my comms officer. Stow your cowardice or I’ll see you stowed in the nearest airlock.”

He shut up rather quickly after that.

She looked more closely at the formation, cycling through various pict feeds and still images captured by the recon droids shortly before they were destroyed in short order, identifying a small core of vessels at the heart of that formation that weren’t emblazoned with the Corellian symbol, but Jedi and Republic ones.

There are the VIP’s for this wave.

She had her ship’s computer mark them.

—

Anakin

He sat in his starfighter.

He didn’t have to. Not yet. At the most generous estimates, they’d be in fighter range in an hour.

Right now, it was simply the stage of adjusting formations, making small changes, probing and firing off long range weaponry that never had a chance to hit but might expose a gap or two in the respective formations or less than capable ship commanders. 

But it let him focus. It let him calm down.

He was only one small part of a far greater whole here. He knew that. They all knew that.

It made him feel, for the first time in a very long time, small… a stark reminder that this war would never, could never be decided by a single person, no matter how powerful.

He could go out there over the coming days and fly… the best sortie of his entire life. He could shoot down… a million or more starfighters, take down a capital ship and blow up ten freighters…

And it would be a drop in the bucket for how… impossibly large this war actually was.

It would be a statistic.

Not even a percentage point.

So yes… it made him feel very… very small. 

He knew he didn’t like the feeling.

He was still trying to decide if it was a good thing to be reminded of, though…

“Sir?”

Anakin opened his eyes, staring up at Rex, who stood over the lip of Anakin’s starfighter’s cockpit, eyebrow raised, with the barest hint of concern peeking past his gruff exterior. 

Anakin nodded. “Rex.”

His XO huffed. “Missin’ the little ankle biter?”

That made him smile. “I think you might miss her more.” He answered cheekily before shaking his head. “But no, I’m actually glad she and the other Padawans are mostly in the reserve and support flotillas. It's where they should be.”

Rex nodded, sighing deeply. “Yeah-” He turned around on the step ladder, leaning against the ship, his back to Anakin. “The fightin is gonna be… brutal this time.”

Anakin didn’t disagree.

“It was a bit higher up the ladder than I am, but did you hear any specifics on what the plan is, General?” Rex asked, turning his head to look over his shoulder.

Anakin let out a slow breath. “Master Rancisis and Tiin are the Council members in the first wave with Corellia. The Corellian fleet are being led by Admiral Saan Orras who’ll coordinate with Rancisis battle meditation. Master Tiin is in command of the Jedi Starfighter wing, myself included. There are around fifty of us in total. Our job is to punch through other fighters to get bombers onto super high priority targets. About two hours behind our first wave, comes the third, mixed unit. Half combat, half landing parties. They’ll be led by Master Obi-Wan and Master Windu. Their combat units are to provide backup for any weak parts of our combat line and the landing party is meant to finally reach the planet through whatever hole we’ve punched through to secure a landing zone.”

“If we punch through” Rex corrected.

“When.” Anakin shot back. Because they simply could not fail here.  “After that, full landing party All of the Venators converted into transport barges, all of the acclamators, everything.”

“Who’s leading that?”

“Master Yoda, Halcyon, Asuar, Piell, and Plo. He nodded. “Lastly, medical and support craft. These are being led by Master Fay.”

“Who?”

“Mandalorian Enclave Master.The Mandalorians are the ones leading the medical fleet so it makes sense.” He shrugged. 

“And the plan when we finally get boots on the ground?” Rex asked. 

“Didn’t listen. Space comes first…” He shrugged. “Besides. You know how it goes when you make a plan. Never works and you’re pretty much improvising from start to end of the whole battle.”

“Very reassuring General.” Rex deadpanned.

Anakin smirked “I try.”

—

Rancisis

It was, very literally, hours, before the first shots were even fired. The Corellian fleet adjusting and shifting their formation as they approached, the Separatists doing the same. 

The first exchange was high yield cannons firing at a fraction of lightspeed, each shot being artfully avoided, even by the impossibly large praetorians- all of them having more than enough time for even their heaving bodies to successfully pull off ‘evasive maneuvers’

“Confirmation acquired; relaying to all ships, the Lucrehulks are capable of independent movement. I repeat, the Lucrehulks are still capable of independent movement”

The commline crackled with the declaration. It had been a question that had been plaguing the command staff for quite some time. There were advantages and disadvantages in keeping the Lucrehulks as stationary orbital platforms. Not the least of which was ground side shield generators that were much more powerful than anything that could be mounted on a ship with its limited power supply.

But it seems the Separatists had foregone that option, and were instead going to use the full might of the titanic vessels in their own combined fleet movements.

Even arranging all twenty of them against the Praetors… Rancisis was still confident in the Praetors emerging the winners of that ‘slug fest’

Even so, he stretched out his mind towards the opposing fleet, his senses searching, scanning. 

The vessels were nearly all manned by droids save for a handful of them where glimmers of life flickered like candle flames.

And then he felt another mind brush against his own, its touch dark and oily. Rancisis, almost reflexively pulled away at the cold, unfamiliar sensation; only to master his instincts, reaching out to find where this presence was emanating from, only to feel it pushing away, sliding back into the black void as though it had never been there.

But he was sure…

There was a Sith within the enemy fleet.

Jorus? Komari?

Perhaps the Sith Master himself?

Rancisis took a breath, “612:” He called.

The Clone snapped to attention “Aye sir!?” 

“Contact Master Tiin and the other Jedi within the fleet.” He ordered. “Please inform them that a Sith hides within the opposing fleet. They must be wary and alert.”

The man saluted. “Aye sir.”

Soonthereafter, the fleet engaged in its final approach, attack vectors locked in, targets chosen. The Praetors moving forward even as they spiraled around each other like a drill head, ready to cycle through their respective shields as they led the vanguard of the attack. The lance that would rip through the heart of the enemy.

Rancisis waited until the final possible moment, trying to catch even the barest hint of anything amiss before he could put it off no longer, as the first turbo laser batteries began to exchange fire.

He retired to his meditation chambers, kneeling upon the ground and beginning his meditations, ready to bolster his allies with the famed Battle meditation to let them carry the day.

And then- he felt that same presence, that shadow hand reaching out across the stars…

And contest his efforts. 

—

Anakin:

He was the chosen one.

It wasn’t a thought that danced across his mind often these days. Or… at all really. 

Long gone were the days where Qui-Gon’s Jinn’s promises of great destiny and chosen, savior status elevated his sense of self.

Dooku had… challenged him… beaten him.

“What manner of Chosen One cannot even stand against an old man?”

He understood, intellectually, why Dooku had done that. Why he literally beat the ‘Chosen One’ out of him. Anakin didn’t think he’d have gotten that arrogant off of the ‘status’ But Dooku had made certain, in his own, overly enthusiastic way.

Then there was Victoria, and Taylor.

It was difficult to lay claim to the status of ‘Chosen One’ when there were two Jedi who could single handedly stop an orbital bombardment, fly, fold a tank in half with their bare hands and another could create a firestorm that would swallow cities while a presence in her mind could overwhelm the entire Jedi Council just to come down from her place for a quick chat. 

Next to that, a simple ‘high midichlorian count’ was pretty tame, and hardly a claim on any sort of ‘special status’. 

But sitting here, in his starfighter, it was one of the rare moments where he could… feel his own strength. Delve into the tides and currents of raw power that very few, if any in the Jedi had access to.

The Force.

In all its greatness.

And all its dangers.

Open to him and him alone in a way few others could even fathom.

He watched the battle unfold through the various camera and pict feeds he was scrolling through.

Then he shut it off…

And he could still see the battle.

He could feel it. In every mote of space and time around him. His mind sinking deep into the force, into the eddies and currents, the churning sea, now broiling and frothing with the thoughts and feelings of millions charging headlong into the cauldron of war. 

“Reallocate power to the forward shields-”

“Missiles locked- firing!”

“Slip behind the C-96, they’ll give us cover to get us in close to that munificent line-”

“Third and Second shield Generators overloaded- Fifth  and Seventh compensating now-”

“They’re scrambling Vultures, get our boys in the air!”

“Bomber wings ready to go on your order- get us out there”

He could feel the thrumming of turbo laser shots, the rocking and swaying of the ship, of all ships around him, his awareness expanding far beyond his own body, into the empty void between the vessels now firing upon each other, feeling the sizzle of heat through his flesh, the thrust of engines at his back, the warmth of light and life from the planet far below touching the flesh of his face. 

Then he could see, and feel the clash that others couldn’t.

Master Rancisis, spread and reached his mind and strength across the entirety of the fleet. The art of Battle Meditation seeking to enhance the already formidable and skilled Corellians into something beyond organic, flesh and blood limitations.

And the shadow reached out and strangled those efforts. Smothering them with inky blackness and malevolent joy.

They battled, like bodiless entities of light and shadow between the ships, contesting and struggling against each other. 

A part of him wished to interfere. To interpose himself. 

But it was not his fight. This battle could only be won, if everyone did their task. He knew that. Felt it deep in his bones. 

They might not have expected a Sith to combat against Battle Meditation. But this was Rancisis’ task. 

He would just have to handle it, complications and all.

The hangar bay klaxon blared, yellow lights flashing, then shifting to green. Anakin rarely put on his flight mask; he hardly ever needed it, but he put it on now. The comms crackled to life in his ear, Master Tinn’s voice bursting out of the link.

“All Jedi Starfighter wings, scramble now. Link up at Vector; 55-227-89”

“You ready R-2?” Anakin called, receiving an affirmative chirp behind him, his friend taking the coordinates and auto uploading them into the Nav computer as the ships cradle lurched forward to get him to the launch pad. 

The Venator’s spinal doors opened, his ship lurching upwards as he looked past the cockpit window seeing the flashing streams of multi-colored turbo laster fire, distant explosions bursting across the stars before guttering out just as quickly, a million voices crying out all at once and a million others falling silent in the cold blackness.

He pushed down on the accelerator, the Delta-7 lurching forward and launching at full speed as it accelerated swiftly.

He followed the Nav computer directions, barely even bothering to look at them. Instead, his own two eyes drank in the chaos all around him.

The Praetors were the figurative and literal centerpiece of the battle. Their three massive bodies plowing through the center lines. A deluge of turbolaser fire tearing Confederate ships apart like they were made of flimsyplast- return fire falling off of high powered shields like they were rain drops on a windshield. Already Anakin could spot over a dozen destroyed or disabled Confederate vessels in their wake, the Venators and other, smaller ships trailing behind them like schools of fish following after a great whale in the ocean.

Vulture fighters and bombers now glimmered like individual fireflies across the blackness of space, spilling out of the hundreds of ships in their thousands, maybe even millions, Clone and Corellian fighter pilots scrambling out to meet them and engage in the deadly dance of dogfighting, their red and green lasers, so tiny compared to ship turbo lasers only adding to the multi-colored insanity.

He could sense the others before he saw them. Two, Seven, Then twelve and more. The first he recognized was Master Bant Eerin; She was Obi-Wan’s friend more than his but she wasn’t an unkind master.

They came in small groups, little droplets coalescing together until there was a full fighter wing of over fifty Jedi pilots flying in formation; Master Tiin taking his place at the head of the wing

For a brief window in time… Anakin felt like they were invincible.

He panned his eyes across the battle again, noting the twenty Lucrehulks rapidly converging to form a living barricade against the still onrushing Praetors, the space around them so thick with fighters, bombers and everything else that it was almost a rusty, shimmering haze in the space surrounding them.

“Sound off.”  Master Tinn barked. 

One by one each wing called in their present members and the status of their fighters.

“Knight Rana, White Eagle three, here-”

“Master Suel-”

“Master Ranik Solusar- Gold Eagle four here-”

One by one, Anakin saw the larger vessels of the fleet lock horns with the other side, titanic beasts exchanging fire across the skies in blooms of scarlet flame and blue plasma. 

“Red Eagle One-” He answered when it was his turn. “All systems green.”

His four other wingmates called their own affirmatives, and he was pleased to note that Master Eerin was Red Eagle 5 in his unit. Coincidence? Or had his Master pulled strings to make sure of it?

Master Tiin banked sharply, wheeling the whole formation following him around to the far left side of the battle, avoiding the clash of monsters near the center.

“Master, will we not be supporting the Praetors?”  

Anakin didn’t recognize who called in the question, if it was a Knight or a Master, but Tinn answered all the same

“There’s no reason to put all our efforts into one plan. The Praetors can do their job- we can do a different one.”

Anakin nodded. It made sense. The Praetors were powerful vessels. But there was no reason to just trust that the enemy was too stupid to not be able to counter them after a point.  “What’s the job then master?” He asked. 

His ship holo screen bloomed to life, a quick display giving the ‘quick, simple, stupid, version of the general plan. 

“We’re pushing through and clearing the way for the bombers to fold up their left flank. Gold, Red, Green Squads, we’re on anti fighter duty. Black, White and Grey squads, escorts. Get those bombers to deliver their payloads.

And then; there was no more time to plan, no more time to ask questions.

The Clone fighters joined them, rushing ahead of the Venators, Carracks,  Acclamators and Consulars.

The Seperatists answered in kind; the space between the stars filling up with what looked to Anakin like a sheer wall of Vulture droids

A red blast whizzed past his cockpit window, and in spite of himself, in spite of knowing that so many were about to die, he found a half smile pulling at the corner of his lips. 

—

Sev’rance Tann

She felt pain pounding across the inside of her mind. Her mind trying to juggle the precarious balancing act she was undertaking.

A part of her mind, most of it, was simply trying to… muddle. Not even stop, much less counter, merely muddle the Jedi Master’s practice of Battle Meditation that she’d been warned about and had prepared herself to face. 

Another part of her focus was on obfuscating her own location. The Jedi did not know that ‘Admiral Tann’ was a Sith and the longer they remained ignorant of that the better. 

And lastly; she was trying to direct a battle.

The largest battle she’d ever directed in truth. 

The Republic, by comparison, perhaps had it easy. 

The Jedi Master could handle the Battle Meditation, the Corellian Admiral was, of course, directing the battle on his side, and the other Jedi, were currently trying to punch in the right flank of her fleet. 

Many jobs for many people.

She was just one.

As such, she had to simplify this quickly, before she was overwhelmed. 

Luckily, she had not spent all of this time on Geonosis sitting on her hands. 

Drills had been conducted very regularly.

All of her subordinates knew their jobs and knew their contingencies by memory.

Those that hadn’t learned them had received… termination notices.

And actual terminations. 

“Fleet-mistress.” The Nemoidian assistant bowed. “The Lucrehulks are in place-”

“Good-” She forced her mouth to work even as her mind surged forward, grappling with the Jedi Master’s efforts once more, stopping him from turning the whole of his fleet into a hyper coordinated juggernaut once more, feeling him fighting back; his previously uncoordinated, inexperienced flailing growing sharper, more controlled. He was adapting to her interference faster than she thought he would.

She definitely needed to make her play quickly.

“My lady-” Another of the men said. “Please, we may very well lose most of the Lucrehulks.”

“Possibly all of them.” She shrugged, her brows scrunching together in effort, trying to appear nonchalant. “But we must eliminate those Praetors form the board, or do you have some other spare fleet we can throw at them?”

She opened one eye, glaring lazily at the bean counting imbecile who sputtered and wrung his hands before falling silent. 

—

Admiral Saan Orras

Fleet battles were slow.

That was merely a fact of how things worked. 

Moving the sheer mass of steel and guns through the void of space weighing several hundred million tons was not a fast endeavor. The range of their shots could be measured in light minutes. 

The Ponderous slow movement of capital ships made them easy targets that were spared destruction only by the comparable strength of their shields and sheer armor plating. 

For context; this battle had been raging for well over thirty minutes, approaching an hour, and outside of the Confederate vessels that were in the direct path of three mighty Praetor’s… ships that outweighed everything on the battlefield by at least four times their nearest competitor; there was not a single confirmed breach in any shields for either side.

That might soon change; correction; it was going to change. But sometimes it even boggled his mind. How one could be firing at a target- for thirty straight minutes… and only just begun breaching its outermost layer of defense.

Fleet battles were not fast things.

Right now, it was still a straight fight. A battle of pure firepower. Armies grinding against armies. With the Separatists looking to delay them as much as they could, to give time for the anti orbital guns firing from the surface to do their work, to rip and tear through their heavier ships; to destroy the Acclamators filled with Clones, or the Venators that their sensor’s could no doubt detect were laden heavily with landing troops. 

Fighters were scrambling, between the two clashing formations, destroying each other in ever increasing wave after wave of vessels. One wave fell back to refuel and rearm and a new, fresh wave would crash into its equally fresh counterpart. Repeating the process until one side or the other had run out of fighters to send into fiery deaths. 

“Sir-” He turned his head, looking towards his XO who offered a sharp salute. “The second Fleet under Master Windu has arrived behind us.”

He nodded. The second Fleet wouldn’t arrive to the battle proper for at least another hour, a mixture of combat vessels and those devoted to the landing itself.

Third fleet was filled with nothing but ships dedicated to landing troops. 

And Fourth fleet would be the support and ad hoc militia craft.

“Good to know-” He said. ‘But ultimately irrelevant’ He didn’t say. “How is our right flank?”

The right flank was their ‘weakest’ flank. The Center had the Praetors, and the left had the Jedi fighter craft intended to help fold up their whole line. 

The right just had ‘enough’ to do their job.

“They’re holding sir.” The man said with a firm nod. 

Orras turned his eyes back to the forward view ports, just in time to see a lance of pure plasma shoot out from the planet below, crashing into the shield of a battlecruiser near him; the shields taking the blow full on. He doubted they could take another volley. 

“Comms- tell the Corrun to elevate, we’ll be taking their spot in the formation.” He ordered. “Give them a chance to re-charge their shields between volleys.

“Aye sir!”

“Sir! Lucrehulks appear to be engaging, their scrambling all fighters and are accelerating towards the Praetors.”

That sent a thrill of something not unlike concern crawling up and down the Admiral’s spine.

Who, in their right mind, would accelerate towards a single Praetor? Let alone three.

“Get me in contact with the captains of those vessels, open up a vid link with their helmsman immediately!”

Fleet battles were not fast things; 

And sometimes they moved at lightspeed. 

—

Anakin

There was no gravity in the void, but he still felt the strain in his body and bones as he banked hard, pulling on the yoke of his ship to have it snap into an upwards turn that twisted him almost completely around to shoot at the Vulture droids that had been chasing him, sheer inertia doing what gravity couldn’t as he felt the pressure literally squeezing the air out of his lungs before equilibrium re-established itself and he could suck down a breath of air again, two vultures exploding in bursts of guttering flame before he was moving on, chasing another set of them in the mad, melee that was the dogfight.

R-2 beeped and chirped, keeping count for him- before Anakin caught an alert, hearing it in his ear and feeling it in the Force as another Jedi died, the flickering light that was them guttering out.

Not the first casualty, the third, compared to the hundreds, thousands of Vultures they’d shot down from the sky, compared to the bombers that had just delivered their payloads and cracked through the shields and armor of seven Munificents- It was a win.

But droids could be replaced. 

Jedi couldn’t.

He took a split second to check through his ships diagnostics. He was confident in his ability to modify his ship, but it was always good to double check that all the… less than authorized parts were doing their job properly.

“Red eagle one here- anyone need assistance?” He called, keeping his call exclusive to his own ‘Red Eagle’ squad, for the time being, hearing them each confirm that they were alright for the time being.

He was about to repeat his offer towards the wider collection of Jedi when he felt it- a tremor in the Force. A warning.

He searched, his head on a swivel now, going this way and that way-

Naturally; his eyes were drawn to the centerpiece of the battle.

It was miles away, so far that even the colossal Praetors looked like toys.

But he could still see it.

The Twenty Lucrehulks rushed forward, literally getting torn to pieces by the guns of the impossibly large ships, their shields punctured like wet cardboard, their armor little more than an amusing distraction.

And they still rushed forward.

He could see the pattern forming, the trap taking place in his minds eye.

The Comms suddenly exploded, a million voices calling out, making plans, barking orders, one of the Praetors activated its reverse thrust at full burn, trying to stop itself even as it kept shooting with its fellows.

The Separatists had 20 Lucrehulks.

Anakin never would have guessed they’d use fifteen of them as ‘Human shields’ so to speak.

They interposed themselves between the Lucrehulks and the other five, their torn bodies forming walls of debris and sheer mass to hem them in as the other five rushed forward, their thrusters at full burn to get in point blank range-

And detonated.

If the blast would have been on the surface of a world… it was no exaggeration to call it a planet cracker.

Anakin saw the sheer kinetic force of the thing send ships listing sideways, two of the Praetors were swallowed wholly by the blue flame of the plasma bomb, made by five Lucrehulk reactors going critical at the same time. Anakin felt the thousands of lives of fighter pilots and smaller vessels snuffed out instantly as the blast overwhelmed their smaller ships. 

The entire fleet battle seemed to go still for a brief moment, all eyes on the calamity

It took an eternity for the blast to clear.

Twenty Lucrehulks were nothing more than shattered debris, floating in the void.

One of the Praetor’s, a chunk of it was missing, the outline of where the blast had hit it, glowing cherry red where it had melted clean through the hull, its sibling floating cold and lifelessly beside it, as the third sputtered and tried to re-ignite its engines.

Then, seven lances of light blasted up from the planet.

There were no shields to take the blow, and not even their thick armor could endure such a concentrated volley.

It struck the middle Praetor, its armor held for the first three strikes…

It buckled by the fourth.

Anakin watched the anti orbital batteries tear clean through, another explosion rocking the two remaining Praetors as their sibling was suddenly lost with all hands.

Anakin could sense the panic, the rising tide of fear and anguish and grief and rage and everything melding together across the whole of the fleet.

His Jedi brethren were calling for new orders, trying to decide what to do, whee to go, who to help, clamoring for Master Tiin’s direction.

Anakin ignored them all-

His mind… searched.

After a split second; he opened a com channel, absolute highest priority to be used only in extreme emergencies-

He felt this warranted it.

He didn’t blame Master Tinn’s impatience when the Councilman snarled into the commline. “What!”

“Master, They just took out some of our high priority VIP’s-”

“Skywalker I’m not-”

“Permission to return the favor?”

—

Sev’Rance Tann

She did not have time to enjoy her ‘victory’ The Jedi Master was even more determined to break through her efforts and it was taking… far beyond what could merely be called ‘effort’ to frustrate him. She was devoting nearly her full attention to this, not even daring to pull away for a moment lest he turn the entire Republic Fleet’s shock into a distant memory before the sacrifice of twenty Lucrehulks be capitalized on.

From here, she knew the Republic had two options; either commit to the attack to get troops on the ground through the hole that had been punched through her own fleet, or try and regroup and rescue the remaining Praetors.

Either one would dictate her counter move to those options. 

But it would only ever come to pass if she could keep the Jedi Master from undoing all of this with his Battle Meditation. 

It was the final lynchpin.

And he knew it.

He was certainly fighting her like he knew it.

Her command staff moved to and fro on the bridge, gathering data, listening to second by second updates on the progress of the battle itself, she could hear them but barely had the presence of mind to listen not with so much of her focus needed elsewhere. 

“Tell them that we are sending the vultures from the Lucrehulks their way- they will destroy the Jedi with their numbers.”

“Order the left wing to divert their unneeded vessels to other battlegroups to reinforce them’

“The Anti Orbital canons confirm, they will be fully charged and ready to fire in just four more minutes.

‘That cannot be right-  It must be an error on our scans.”

We can confirm that the second Republic Fleet has arrived and seems to be marshalling behind the first to join them-

“Fleet mistress-”

Sev’rance grunted by way of answer, her head was pounding and she could no longer fully keep the veneer of aloof stoicism as a mask any further. 

“The Orbital stations await your order to send long range fighters and bombers as additional reinforcements, we just need to know where-”

“Once the Republic decides what it will do I can give you an answer-

“We can confirm the Negotiator on long range scans-”

“Scramble more fighters-”

“The Ortemais requesting permission to fall back for emergency repairs-”

Sev’rance delved back into the force, letting the pain, the suffering, the fear and the death she could feel in the opposing fleet fuel her strength. Driving back with all of her strength against Master Rancisis and feeling him give only an inch. A sheer wall of determination and grim resolve staring her down. 

“Scramble our fighters!”

Her consciousness slipped into the Force Delving deep into its eddies and currents; feeling… the faint echo of the voices beyond her ship. The cries of shields collapsing, armor breaches, the snuffing out of lives, tiny candles flickering their last in the void.

And then- like a flashlight being shown straight in her eye, Sev’rance saw…

Her eyes snapped open and she stood up from her command throne, turning to look out of the right side viewport.

“What the hell is that!?” She demanded, her voice high and shrill watching as the comet of Brilliant power streaked through space; all but dancing between blaster bolts and fighter craft, carving a straight line in impossible maneuvers through the heart of her fleet.  

The Nemoidian that had apparently been complaining about this turned, bowing to her. “Mi-lady it is nothing but a nuisance, we’re to be rid of it soon; please direct the-”

The bridge was rocked, a sudden deluge of blaster fire peppering the exterior shields as the fighter zoomed right past them, vulture droids trailing behind.

Sev’Rance followed his trail, watching as the pilot kept dodging and weaving between shots staying extremely close to the ship’s surface; He took two more shots, the green bursts exploding across the shield right infront of her

It was useless. A single starfighter wouldn’t have the firepower to-

“Commsman!” She barked. “Broad comms sweep! Helm evasive manuvers right now!”

Her men, to their credit, didn’t question her; the capital ship listing to the side, seconds before long range plasma canons opened up, slamming their payload right into her ships shield, two of the strikes going wide as her ship shook and trembled, red warning lights and alarm klaxons blaring.

“Bastard.” She hissed. “He’s using his own ship as a target transponder!”

“We are scrambling fighters-” The Nemoidian blubbered. “They will engage in twenty seconds!”

The Pilot twisted his ship in a turn that should have sheered the ship in half with the physics involved, the edge of his starfighter scraping off the hull as he shot forward at full speed towards the bridge, opening up with both canons at full blast.

Severance snarled, her lip curling. “Re-route power to forward shields!”

“Yes Ma’am.” The droid answered 

He drew close, close enough that she could see his face through both the view ports and his cockpit window.

She recognized this face.

Skywalker. ‘The Laughing General’ 

One of the Jedi’s rising stars.

She could appreciate the sheer balls on him if nothing else.

She saw his features shift, a smug, triumphant smirk;  staring straight at her.

Again, her alarm bells went off in her own skull, seeing two missiles unhook from the underside of his ship before he accelerated shooting past his own missiles as they hurtled straight towards her and the ship disappeared from view.

She realized his trap, a split second before her ship shook, something exploding as the missiles struck the shields harmlessly.

“C-communication array down!” The Neimoidian gasped. “H-how did he-”

The ship once again shot past her, beating a hasty retreat, an entire wing of Vulture droids and interceptors rushing after him, too slowly to catch up.

Severance snarledClosing her eyes knowing already what she would find, Rancisis’ battle meditation spreading through the Republic fleet like an out of control fire; her sudden lack of direct communication compounding the crisis. 

“Full broadcast on every channel available, Contingency Seven-Seven-Six-Two.”

“Yes ma’am!” The comm droid obediently answered her.

“We are retreating!?”

“Regrouping.” She corrected with a sigh. “They’ll land on the surface, and that’s where the next phase starts.”

(X)(X)(X)

And here we have the opening to the battle of Geonosis. Casualty figures will be expanded on in the next chapter as we touch down on the planet itself with the first wave. But I was very happy to give Anakin time to shine in his natural environment behind a ships controls :p