Author - I am feeling pumped up so more coming your way, also anyone has a small loan of a million dollars? I want to buy a new PC and with the way the prices are for certain... components. I need to spend a lot lmao.
Pat reon is currently 3 chapter forward.
pa tr eon.com/Deluxee
***
Half a month had passed since my return from Coruscant.
Nothing major has happened, life has settled some independent traders have come through we also sent our own convoys the long way around. I am thinking of asking grok to make hyperspace buoys and make a path through unknown regions to other sectors.
Problem is. We don't have schematics for them, so we either have to find them, steal them or buy them.
Preferably steal or find them out there, we are bleeding money as it is.
I sat in the secure office to my displeasure since the weather is so good today and I'd love to just sunbathe on the balcony but alas, I have some pretty top secret latest consolidated reports that are spread across the holotable, the glow casting long shadows across the walls.
The generator was fully online, the temporary one from the barracks has been disconnected so the.
The orbital dockyard continued its slow expansion and the first small patrol craft is being produced, albeit slowly since we need to figure out ins and outs of it all.
On the surface, the four systems were functioning, some would say they are thriving better than others. After all we are in the galactic south some planets can barely afford to feed themselves.
Elyria itself is well, more south-east, only around a dozen or so Moff sectors away from Tatooine to the east and the same rough distance to the west to Polis Masa, so like 4 or 5 days travel which is nothing to almost 2 weeks it takes to the core and that is assuming every ships hyperdrive is class 1 or 2.
Jerjerrod's bureaucratic interference continued in small, grinding ways delayed permits, sudden compliance checks for ships, quiet disruptions. Nothing that justified an open complaint just yet.
But its every little thing put together that made daily operations harder.
I turned my attention to the newer files.
If the usual merchants and smugglers were being driven away, then we needed partners who were harder to intimidate. Larger conglomerates based outside Jerjerrod's sector.
Groups that already travelled with serious defensive escorts and were less likely to abandon a profitable route because of whispered threats.
Since we made this and surrounding sectors safer to travel through merchants would no longer need to reach planets like Cotellier and Utapau going around us adding additional time to their travel and extra fuel costs, but as soon as the word started spreading that its safe and merchants started going through, Mr not slim and not shady started his bullshit driving them away again, however.
A few names had begun to stand out.
The first was an older Corellian shipping concern that had done limited business with us before the pressure started. They were cautious, but they had not fully withdrawn.
Their captains still made occasional runs when the margins were high enough.
The second was a newer Ryloth-based consortium that specialized in moving refined materials and industrial components, probably with hidden spice hidden within since their ships always make sure to dock at the Blacksun ports.
They had only recently begun testing routes near our systems, and so far they had not been scared off.
The third was a smaller but well-armed independent group out of the Tion Cluster. They were opportunistic and aggressive in their dealings, but they paid on time and did not scare easily, I swear there was a rumour that they were about to blast some official after he made a remark about the captain of the convoy.
The fourth was a long-standing mutual contact through one of the three allied governors a mid-sized transport network that had quietly maintained a few scheduled runs despite the growing risks and mounting pressure, it seems the contact is one of the 18% that are neutral and strong enough to ignore Jerjerrod.
Their continued presence was one of the few stable threads left, and from what I am seeing it is still quite profitable for them.
Once this is over I will make sure they get premium rates while those who abandoned us or were against us will get nothing.
I moved on to the mercenary files, only 2 companies had survived the first round of filtering.
The first was a Naboo-origin outfit that operated more like a private starfighter corps than a traditional mercenary band. They fielded only two light cruisers, but their real strength was in their hangars: over one hundred high-quality starfighters and bombers, well-maintained and flown by experienced pilots.
They were fucking expensive, selective about contracts, and had a reputation for discipline rather than brutality.
The second was run by a Weequay commander with a long record in the Outer Rim. His force was built around one heavy cruiser and three light cruisers, supported by a modest fighter screen. What made them valuable was their boarding contingent larger and better trained than most mercenary groups could field.
They were blunt, costly, and known for finishing contracts once the credits cleared. I studied both profiles for a long time.
Neither group would come cheap.
Neither would commit without clear terms and serious payment. But both offered capabilities my current forces still lacked in sufficient numbers. I leaned back in the chair and stared at the floating lists.
***
I finished drafting the last of the initial contact messages and sent them through the secure channels.
Hopefully the don't leave me on read.
For a moment the office was quiet.
I leaned back in the chair and let out a long breath, then opened a new channel to the orbital dockyard. "Status on the first patrol craft," I said.
There was a short delay before the chief engineer's holo appeared. The man looked tired, grease still visible on his sleeve.
"We're still working through the production details, Governor," he reported. "The design itself is locked in, but scaling it for steady manufacturing is slower than we'd like. Tooling, parts tolerances, and crew training are all taking time."
He pulled up a schematic as he spoke.
The patrol craft was a compact, angular vessel smaller than a standard customs corvette, lightly armoured, with a narrow profile meant for long-range system patrols and rapid response.
It carried modest armament: a pair of twin light turbolasers, a few laser cannon turrets, and a limited missile rack. Speed and endurance had been prioritized over heavy protection.
It would never stand up to a true capital ship, but it could cover a lot of space and chase down smugglers or light raiders effectively, its more of a chasing or screening unit than a true heavy hitter.
"First hull is about sixty percent complete," the engineer continued. "If we don't hit any major setbacks, we should be ready for trial runs in a few weeks."
I nodded. "Keep me updated. Prioritize reliability over speed of production."
The channel closed.
I sat there for a moment longer, eyes drifting from the remaining stack of files on the desk to the wide window across the room.
Outside, the weather over Havenridge was clear and bright. Sunlight spilled across the plains in clean golden sheets, the kind of day that made the planet look almost peaceful.
I looked at it for a few seconds.
Then I looked back at the work.
Another quiet sigh left me before I pulled the next file forward and kept going.
Duty calls I guess.
The hours blurred into one another, administrative requests, updated patrol logs. As well as minor disputes between the allied governors and supply adjustments.
The kind of grinding work that never fully ended, I am complaining but Harlan has the worse of it, I will light a candle in his name. Amen.
Sometime in the afternoon a priority encrypted notification cut through the routine, it was Grok.
I opened the channel at once.
The tall droid's image resolved above the holotable, crimson photoreceptors steady. "Governor. Progress report," Grok began. "Scout droid production has increased by twelve percent since the last cycle. Long-range probe deployment into the Unknown Regions continues on schedule. Three new resource veins have been successfully mapped and are being prepared for extraction. Additional foundry expansion is proceeding within projected parameters. No further hostile contacts since the previous engagement."
He paused briefly. "Overall operational capacity continues to scale. Current projections remain stable, with the resources we have now once the dockyard has been completed we will be able to supply it for continuous production cycle without compromising the droid foundries."
I studied the data accompanying the report for a moment, then gave a short nod. "Continue as planned. Maintain full compartmentalization."
"Acknowledged." The holo faded.
I remained still in the quiet office, the sunlight still pouring in from outside, the stack of unfinished work still waiting on the desk.
***
Three days later I sat alone in the secure conference room as the two holo-channels linked in sequence.
The first to appear was the Weequay commander. he was broad-shouldered, scarred, and carried himself with the easy confidence of someone who had survived a long time in the Outer Rim. His armour was practical rather than decorative, and the bridge of his heavy cruiser was visible behind him.
"Captain Vesk," I greeted him. "Thank you for taking the time."
He gave a short nod. "Governor Voss. You have a proposal. Make it quick."
The second channel opened a moment later. The woman who appeared was human, sharp-eyed, and dressed in a clean, well-maintained brown flight jacket. Behind her I could see she is in some sort of open space but I cant place exactly what is around her through the call.
"Captain Sera Valen of the Auralis Free Wing," she said. "We're listening."
I clasped my hands on the table and began. "I need reliable contractors for a full standard year with possible extension of the contract. Your task would be to hunt pirates, smugglers, and any other hostiles operating in or around my systems. You will have authority to engage threats under that definition, and you will be paid to do so."
The wording is deliberate, I cant just say to fight Jerjerrods men in case they get some ideas.
Vesk's eyes narrowed slightly. "Any other hostiles is a broad term."
"It is," I agreed. "It needs to be. The situation in this sector is unstable. I won't insult you by pretending otherwise."
I let that settle before continuing. "Payment will be structured on a two-month cycle. For Vesk's Company ninety-five thousand credits every two months. Discounted supplies. Near-free repairs at our facilities. For the Auralis Free Wing one hundred and eleven thousand credits on the same cycle, same supply and repair terms. You're more specialized, and I'm accounting for that."
Sera Valen studied me carefully. "That's somewhat lower than our usual rate for long-term deployment."
"It is," I said. "Which is why there are additional terms. Both of your groups will receive free living space on Elyria and discounts for everything within it, including shops, bars and any other thing for the duration of the contract. You'll also have access to Mandalorian training instructors if you want it. And sixty percent of all spoils taken during sanctioned operations will go to you."
That last point got both of their attention. Vesk leaned back slightly. "Sixty percent is generous, if we wanted we could get whole ships as part of our spoils. What's the catch?"
"There isn't one beyond the obvious," I replied. "You work for me for a year. You follow the engagement rules I set. You don't sell information about my systems or my forces. In return, you get steady pay, a secure base of operations, and the majority share of whatever you take."
There was some haggling after that.
Vesk pushed for higher upfront payment. I refused but offered priority docking and faster repair turnaround and discount on fuel beyond the end of the contract and promised to him and Sera to mention them to some acquaintances I made in the core.
Sera Valen wanted clearer language about operational independence. I adjusted the wording just enough to satisfy her without giving away more control than I intended. A few details about the current threat environment were softened or left deliberately vague.
In the end, both captains agreed.
The contracts were drawn up, transmitted, and formally acknowledged.
One year. Pirates and smugglers.
And any other hostiles.
When the final confirmations came through, I allowed myself a small breath of relief.
It wasn't a fleet.
But it was additional strength I could actually use in the open, and right now, that mattered.
***
Two days later I was in the middle of a quiet breakfast.
The small private dining room near the upper offices was one of the few places that still felt relatively normal. Lira sat across from me, scrolling through a technical readout between bites.
Mira was carefully cutting fruit while Atii had her boots up on the edge of an empty chair, eating what constituted for colour full cereal in this galaxy.
Torv meanwhile stood near the wall rather than sitting, as usual, armour already on with a small gun this time but knowing him that gun is probably a portable grenade launcher.
For a few minutes, it was almost peaceful, some quiet talk between all of us.
Then the priority alert cut through the room like a blade.
My datapad flared red. At the same time, Torv's wrist comm lit up and a system-wide emergency tone echoed faintly from the corridor outside.
I opened the channel at once. "Report."
Reza's voice came through tight and controlled. "Priority alert from Nimura Drift. A hostile fleet has dropped out of hyperspace near the system edge and is on an intercept course with an incoming convoy. Three light cruisers, approximately thirty starfighters, fifteen bombers, and two light patrol craft configured for heavy support roles. The convoy consists of three haulers with only light defensive armament. Estimated time to contact: under ten minutes."
Cant have shit in star wars. Let me eat in peace at least.
I was already on my feet. "Local forces?"
"Nimura's detachment is responding one Gozanti, two light cruisers, and their TIE screen. They will arrive in approximately twenty minutes. Our nearest heavy reinforcement group, Iron Reaver and two heavy cruisers, is forty minutes out at best speed."
Across the sector, secondary alerts were already cascading. Patrol groups were being recalled into tighter formations. Reserve ships were powering up. No one was waiting to see if this was an isolated incident.
"All fleets to elevated readiness," I ordered. "Redirect any available units that can reach Nimura in under an hour. I want continuous updates."
I cut the channel and headed for the door. The others were already moving with me.
We moved fast through the corridors toward the command centre.
Internally the thoughts came sharp and ugly.
Jerjerrod would not escalate this quickly and this openly without a reason. Either someone had leaked the mercenary negotiations, or this attack had already been in motion before those talks even finished.
Possibly both.
The timing was too clean and too immediate.
This might not even be the only attack coming today.
We pushed through the command centre doors as the main holotable flared to life, already showing the unfolding intercept near Nimura Drift.
***
Captain Ralen Kososik exhaled slowly as the blue tunnel of hyperspace collapsed and the familiar starfield of the Nimura approaches snapped into place.
The Steady Margin was an aging but reliable bulk hauler, one of three ships in the small convoy under his command. He had been running freight across this part of the Outer Rim for more than twenty years, first as an independent operator and later as a senior captain within the Korrin Free Traders a loose but stubborn consortium of mid-sized merchants who still believed there was money to be made in places the larger guilds preferred to avoid.
Their holds were currently filled with refined industrial components, sealed medical crates, and a carefully packed consignment of mid-grade machine tools bound for Elyria and the surrounding systems.
It was not glamorous cargo, but it paid well enough, especially with the recent disruptions driving prices upward.
Ralen had mixed feelings about Elyria.
On one hand, the young governor there had done what few others in the sector managed: reduced the worst of the pirate activity and created something resembling stable demand. On the other hand, the entire Moff sector had grown increasingly unstable.
Rumors of threats against independent captains, sudden route "advisories," and quiet pressure from sector authorities had made more than one of his colleagues pull back entirely.
Even the bloody organised criminal bastards like Black Sun's have reduced presence which had only deepened the unease.
When that particular organization started treating a region as bad for business, most sensible traders paid attention.
Still, the margins were good, and Ralen had never been the type to abandon a profitable run just because the political weather turned sour.
"All ships report clean exit," his first officer called from the secondary console. "Convoy formation tight. Estimated time to final approach vector: thirty-eight minutes."
Ralen nodded and reached for his caf. "Keep us steady. No unnecessary—"
The sensor officer straightened abruptly."Contact. Multiple ships dropping out of hyperspace at the edge of our scan range. Bearing closing."
Ralen frowned and moved closer to the display. Three light cruiser-sized signatures. A cloud of smaller craft. At first glance it could have been a patrol group or another merchant convoy running under escort.
"Open a channel," he ordered. "Standard identification request."
The transmission went out.
No reply.
He waited several seconds, then tried again.
Still nothing, a cold edge began to form in his stomach.
"They're adjusting course," the sensor officer said tightly. "Intercept trajectory. Fighter launches detected, multiple squadrons."
The last of Ralen's cautious optimism vanished."All ships, maximum sublight speed!" he barked. "Full power to forward shields! Divert everything we can spare from non-critical systems. Make for the nearest planetary gravity well Nimura Drift, best possible speed. Send a general distress signal now!"
The bridge of the Steady Margin erupted into controlled urgency. Crew members snapped to their stations.
The other two haulers acknowledged the orders in quick succession, their engines flaring brighter as they pushed beyond normal cruising output while what little light armaments they have came online.
The distress signal had barely cleared when a response came through on the emergency channel.
"Convoy Steady Margin, this is Captain Haldren of the Nimura Defense Detachment. We have your signal. We are moving to intercept and will reach your position in approximately twenty minutes. Your distress has also been forwarded up the chain for heavier reinforcement. Maintain course toward the planet and keep your ships together."
Some of the tightness in Ralen's chest eased but only slightly.
Twenty minutes was a long time when hostile fighters were already forming up.
He stared at the closing signatures on the sensor display, jaw clenched."Opportunistic scum," he muttered under his breath.
Then, louder, voice cutting across the bridge: "All hands to action stations! Gunners, prioritize incoming bombers do not waste shots on the cruisers. Engineering, I want every last bit of speed you can give me without tearing the drives apart. We hold formation and we keep moving!"
He gripped the edge of the console as the three haulers accelerated toward Nimura Drift, the enemy fleet steadily closing the distance behind them.
Pirates, he thought bitterly, if only he could hang them all himself throughout galaxy it would be much better.
***
Captain Haldren stood rigid on the bridge of the Gozanti-class Nimura Vigil, eyes locked on the tactical display as the small defense detachment pushed forward at maximum sustained burn.
"All ships, maintain tight formation," he ordered. "Cruisers on my flanks. TIE screen forward in staggered attack layers. We are not here to duel we are here to keep those haulers alive until heavier support arrives."
The two light cruisers adjusted position without delay, forming a protective wedge with the Nimura Vigil at the center. Ahead of them, the TIE squadron spread into a layered screen faster elements ranging forward, heavier pairs holding back to react.
Fifteen minutes.
People who had never served in space thought that sounded like a long time. Haldren knew better. At full sublight, with decent engines and a clean vector, fifteen minutes could cover hundreds of thousands of kilometers. Entire engagement envelopes could open and close in less time than it took most civilians to finish a meal.
"Time to intercept?" he asked. "Seven minutes," the navigator replied. "Convoy is still running hard toward the planetary gravity well but they have slowed down redirecting more power to shields to stay afloat. Hostiles are already engaging."
The minutes stretched. Sensor returns sharpened as they entered clearer range. The picture that resolved was ugly but not yet catastrophic.
The three haulers were still intact, scorch marks and localized shield fluctuations showed they had taken hits, but their deflectors were holding but they have started crawling instead of flying through space, all available power it seems has been redirected to shields.
The enemy had not yet managed to overwhelm their shields it seems."
All batteries, stand by," Haldren said. "Fighters, prepare for immediate engagement. We hit their forward screen first and force them off the convoy, prioritise bombers and their heavy support ships."
They dropped into the battlespace at speed.
The enemy formation was aggressive but not sloppy. The three hostile light cruisers held a loose triangle behind their fighter screen, while the two patrol craft hung slightly wider, acting as heavy support platforms for the bombers.
The bombers themselves were already angling for another run on the lead hauler.
"Break their attack lanes!" Haldren snapped. "TIEs, engage the fighters. Cruisers, put pressure on those bombers and the nearest patrol craft. Do not let them line up clean runs."
The Nimura detachment plunged into the fight.
TIE fighters screamed ahead in pairs and fours, green laser fire cutting across the void. The first clashes were messy and fast. Two enemy starfighters vanished in quick succession under concentrated fire, but a third slipped through and raked a TIE with a lucky burst, sending it spinning out of formation in a spray of debris.
The light cruisers opened up with their turbolasers, forcing the enemy bombers to break off their current attack vector. One bomber was caught mid-turn and torn apart. Another took a glancing hit and trailed as it pulled away.
"Focus fire on the lead patrol craft," Haldren ordered. "I want that heavy support reduced."
Both light cruisers and the Nimura Vigil shifted their fire. The targeted patrol craft tried to evade, its shields flaring bright under the barrage. For a moment it looked as if it might slip free then a coordinated volley punched through.
The craft shuddered, vented debris, and began drifting with its engines flickering.
The enemy response was immediate.
One of the hostile light cruisers surged forward, trying to pin the Nimura detachment and reopen a path to the haulers.
Starfighters swarmed thicker around the Gozanti, another TIE was destroyed while one beside it took damage and had to fall back toward the cruisers for cover.
"Hold the line," Haldren growled. "Do not let them isolate us from the convoy, push through fire if we have to."
The battle dissolved into a shifting web of overlapping fire arcs and rapid course corrections. The haulers continued their run toward the planet, still shielded, still intact, though one of them was now trailing a thin stream of vapor from a damaged dorsal plate.
Minutes blurred into constant adjustments, shaking from return fire and barking of orders from me.
Another enemy fighter went down.
One of the bombers, attempting a desperate suicide attack run, was caught between two TIEs and destroyed before it could release its payload.
The damaged patrol craft was finally finished off by a concentrated turbolaser strike, breaking apart under the final barrage.
But the cost continued to mount. The Nimura detachment was outnumbered, and the remaining enemy cruisers were beginning to press harder.
Haldren was about to order a tighter defensive contraction around the haulers when the sensor officer's voice cut sharply across the bridge.
"New contacts dropping out of hyperspace multiple capital signatures! It's the Iron Reaver and two heavy cruisers! Z's are already en-route while TIE's are flying out of the hangar bays."
On the tactical display, the reinforcing formation blazed into existence at the edge of the engagement zone, already adjusting course toward the battle.
Haldren allowed himself one short breath of relief. "All ships, hold position and keep the pressure on, get me in contact with friendlies." he ordered. "Reinforcements are here. We finish this together, do not let these scum escape. Butcher them!"
The heavier ships were already accelerating into the fight.
***
The moment the Iron Reaver and her escorts entered effective range, the shape of the battle changed completely.
Haldren opened a direct channel. "Iron Reaver Actual, this is Captain Haldren of the Nimura detachment. We are holding the convoy's flank. Enemy force is three light cruisers, remaining fighter screen, and bombers. One patrol craft already destroyed."
The reply came almost immediately, calm and precise. "This is Captain Reza of the Iron Reaver. We have your tactical feed. Maintain your protective screen on the haulers. We will take the primary engagement. Headhunters are in the frey."
On the display, the reinforcing formation spread with practiced efficiency. The two heavy cruisers moved wide to create overlapping fields of fire, while the Gladiator-class Iron Reaver drove straight toward the center of the enemy line without a care in the world.
Squadrons of Z-95 Headhunters accelerated into the fight in tight, disciplined pairs. While TIEs are already screaming out of the hangars and towards the enemy.
The difference in quality and quantity was immediate and brutal.
The Headhunters tore into the remaining enemy starfighters with clean, coordinated passes. Where the earlier dogfight had been messy and evenly matched, this was one-sided, while TIEs dog pile on the remaining ones sometimes 3 on 1.
Enemy fighters flared and broke apart under concentrated laser fire. Bombers attempting to reverse course were hunted down before they could fully reorient.
Within the first minute of contact, the hostile fighter screen began to collapse."Enemy bomber formation is breaking," Haldren's sensor officer called out. "Multiple kills confirmed."
At the same time the heavy ships opened fire.
The Iron Reaver's turbolaser batteries lit the void in brilliant green volleys.
One of the enemy light cruisers took a full broadside across its forward shields and staggered, armour plating peeling away in molten sheets. The two supporting heavy cruisers added their own fire, pinning the remaining hostiles in a killing box.
The enemy tried to disengage.
Their surviving ships began turning hard, engines flaring as they attempted to open a vector for hyperspace escape. For a moment it looked as if at least part of the force might slip away.
Then the convoy did something unexpected and utterly fucking stupid.
Instead of continuing toward the planet, the three haulers adjusted course and swung wide, their limited weapons firing in ragged but determined volleys. It was not enough to destroy anything but it was enough to complicate the enemy's escape lane and block it with their bodies.
Whether it was revenge, desperation, or simple stubborn refusal to let their attackers run, the merchants were deliberately cutting across the most direct hyperspace vector.
Haldren stared at the display for half a second in disbelief.
"Those fools are going to get themselves killed," someone muttered on the bridge.
"Or end this faster," Haldren replied. "All ships, push now. Do not give them a clean window."
Calls for surrender went out across open channels from both the Iron Reaver and the Nimura detachment.
There was no response, the remaining enemy ships only accelerated harder.
That decision finished them.
The Iron Reaver closed the distance and delivered a devastating series of volleys into the nearest light cruiser, the vessel's shields collapsed, followed by its port engine block while secondary explosions rippled through the hull before the entire ship broke apart in a slow, expanding cloud of debris.
The second cruiser attempted to break past one of the heavy escorts and was caught in a crossfire that chewed through its armour in seconds. It went dead in space, burning from a dozen breaches.
Fighters and bombers died in clusters, our fighters swept through the disorganized remnants with ruthless efficiency, one bomber after another and more fighters vanished in brief, bright detonations.
A final pair tried to use the drifting wreckage as cover and were still destroyed before they could clear the engagement zone.
When the firing finally slowed, the battlespace was filled with wreckage.
Of the original attacking force, almost nothing remained intact, one light cruiser drifted without power, its hull cracked and venting atmosphere. Two or three bombers floated as scorched, half-broken husks.
Everything else was debris. "Cease fire," came Reza's voice across the channel. "All ships, confirm remaining contacts."
Reports came in quickly, no active resistance or additional hyperspace signatures.
"Recovery teams will handle the intact cruiser and any recoverable data cores," Reza continued. "Identification protocols are already running. Captain Haldren, your detachment is to escort the convoy the rest of the way to Nimura Drift. We will secure the battlespace, remain alert until orders say otherwise."
Haldren exhaled slowly and nodded, even though the other captain could not see it."Understood, Iron Reaver. Nimura detachment will take the haulers in."
He switched channels to his own ships. "All units, reform on the convoy we finish the escort. Stay sharp the fight is over, but I want no surprises on the final approach."
Outside the viewport, the battered merchant ships adjusted course once more, this time properly toward the planet. Behind them, the Iron Reaver and her escorts moved among the wreckage like predators circling the remains of a kill.
Haldren allowed himself one final look at the drifting enemy cruiser before turning his full attention back to the convoy.
Whoever had sent those ships had not expected this response or at least didnt expect the speed of it.
***
The meeting was crowded with holo displays of officers.
Reza, Captain Haldren, the captains of various detachments, several flight leaders, Jaster, Torv, and a handful of senior ground officers filled the remaining space.
The atmosphere was tight, focused, and stripped of unnecessary formality.I looked once around the room, then activated the after-action summary.
"Nothing of real substance was recovered from the data cores," I said. "Whatever else they were, they were careful, identification traces place them as a small outlaw group operating out of and around the Septra System. No confirmed ties to any larger syndicate, pirate coalition, or official authority."
I paused, letting the next part land. "That would be reassuring if their equipment had matched the profile, it didn't. Nearly everything they fielded was new and their holds were stocked with military-grade ammunition and supplies. Whoever they were on paper, someone outfitted them for a serious operation."
Silence held for a moment.
Reza was the first to speak. "If they were meant to test our response time, they got their answer, albeit they didnt probably expect it to be this effective."
"They also got themselves destroyed," Haldren added from the holo. "But I doubt that was the last of them, but it was weird that they didn't even try to surrender. Not one."
I nodded."Which is why we're not treating this as an isolated incident."I straightened and began issuing orders.
"Crew training is to be doubled effective immediately. I don't care if the schedules become uncomfortable, I want every active ship operating at a higher standard within the month. Recruitment drives will be expanded across all four systems militia first, then specialist naval roles. We need more people and we need them quickly."
I turned slightly toward Reza and the dockyard liaison."The orbital facility is still incomplete, but that doesn't mean we wait. Place orders for additional hulls now. Priority on gunships and patrol craft. I want ships that can be produced quickly, crewed by light contingent, and deployed without draining our heavier assets."
We have a few heavy hitters but if they get overwhelmed by small and light ships it will be a problem.
Finally I looked to Harlan's representative and the logistics officers. "And once again, we go shopping quietly. Nearby systems only, same methods as last year. Weapons, munitions, spare components anything useful that can be purchased without drawing official attention. Use intermediaries, keep the purchases fragmented. Dont go to the Blacksuns, they are more likely to sell this information out or charge us higher prices because of the situation. They made their bed now they will lie in it."
A few officers exchanged glances, but no one objected.
"This attack was not random. Even if we cannot yet prove who backed it, we will proceed as if more are coming. Dismissed."
Officers disconnected with their orders already forming into action lists.
I stayed at the table a moment longer, staring at the blank projection space.
A small outlaw group from Septra, yeah right.