Before this chapter starts, Im informing you all of some changes I did to the 501st. In clone wars Anakin only works with torrent company, a small division of the 501st, for all we know there was a clone commander of th 501st above Rex. In this, Anakin leads the entirety of the legion and Ive added a clone commander OC that is not Rex. Rex is still the captain, but he answers to the commander. Also probably the most contreversial change I did was something no one would possibly think of, a change so drastic and damming I could go to jail. I changed the legion's color. THAT'S RIGHT, YOU GOTTA IMAGINE THEM DIFFERENT NOW. Their red now because Anakin likes red, he's red, his lightsabers red, kinda to play into the whole Sith thing. Anyway, enjoy the first true space battle of this fic.
...
Hyperspace shimmered like a living storm beyond the bridge viewport.
Blue light poured across polished deck plating and cast long shadows across the command pit of the Venator Resolute. Officers moved with measured urgency, voices low, hands gliding over tactical holotables that projected a red-glowing sphere—Christophsis.
Around it, hundreds of crimson icons rotated in formation.
Separatist warships.
Four hundred and fifty confirmed signatures.
And counting.
Admiral Wullf Yularen stood with his hands clasped behind his back, posture immaculate, grey uniform sharp against the dimmed bridge lighting. His gaze remained fixed on the holomap.
Behind him, tall and immovable as durasteel, stood Anakin Skywalker. His presence was a pillar of shadow and armor, a stark contrast to the officers and clones around him.
There was something about Skywalker in silence that unsettled even seasoned officers. Not rage. Not volatility.
Gravity.
A pressure in the Force that made lesser beings instinctively lower their voices.
Yularen had grown accustomed to it.
Not comfortable.
But accustomed.
"Final count confirms four hundred and forty-seven capital-class vessels," a bridge officer reported. "Interlocking formation around the primary orbital defense grid."
Anakin's eyes remained fixed on the projection.
"Four hundred and fifty," he corrected calmly.
Yularen glanced at him.
"Intuition, General?"
Anakin's mouth curved faintly.
"No. They'll round up. Dooku likes symmetry."
A few nearby officers exchanged glances.
Yularen studied the blockade pattern again.
Tight.
Layered.
Disciplined.
If the Republic fleet exited hyperspace directly into that formation, they would be boxed in within seconds.
"You are aware," Yularen said evenly, "that General Kenobi's fleet is still several hours behind us."
Anakin turned slightly, resting one gloved hand against the holo table.
"I'm aware."
"And yet we are dropping out of hyperspace ahead of schedule."
A faint hum vibrated through the deck.
Countdown to reversion.
Anakin's gaze flicked briefly toward the Admiral.
"You've worked with me long enough to know I don't like waiting."
"That is not what concerns me."
Anakin's eyes returned to the stars.
Yularen pressed on, measured and calm.
"Engaging four hundred and fifty enemy ships without reinforcement is statistically unfavorable."
Anakin chuckled softly.
"I don't intend to engage all of them."
Yularen raised a brow.
"That's reassuring," he said sarcastically
Anakin's gaze sharpened.
"Blockades like this only look strong because they're dense. They're afraid of something slipping through. That means they're compressing too tightly around the planet."
He reached out, fingers gliding through the holographic projection. Red ships shifted under his manipulation.
"Too focused inward."
He tapped a point on the outer perimeter.
"If we punch here—hard and fast—they'll think we're trying to break through to the surface."
"Is that not the primary objective, General?" Yularen asked.
Anakin's lips curved again.
"No."
Yularen's eyes narrowed slightly.
"You're drawing them out."
"Exactly."
A pause.
"And General Kenobi?"
Anakin's expression shifted—just slightly.
Amusement.
"He'll arrive right as they redeploy to reinforce the outer perimeter."
The Admiral allowed himself the smallest exhale.
"You intend to collapse their formation from within."
Anakin nodded once.
"Obi-Wan prefers clean entries. Flanking maneuvers. Diplomatic positioning."
He glanced at the Admiral.
"I prefer to make them panic."
Yularen almost smiled.
"General Kenobi will not appreciate being denied the opening engagement."
Anakin's chuckle was warmer this time.
"I couldn't let him have all the glory."
The bridge trembled faintly.
"Ten seconds to reversion."
Silence fell across the command deck.
Officers braced.
The swirling blue ahead began to thin.
Yularen studied Skywalker one last time before the jump.
Three months into the war, and the young Knight commanded a fleet larger than most sector admirals had ever controlled.
He ignored standard doctrine.
He ignored retreat thresholds.
He ignored—when necessary—direct Council advisories.
And yet…
They were winning.
The 501st's red-marked cruisers cut through Separatist lines like blades.
Enemy admirals were vanishing.
Blockades were breaking.
Systems were falling back into Republic hands.
Yularen had served long enough to know the difference between reckless brilliance and calculated audacity.
Skywalker walked that line with terrifying confidence.
"Five seconds."
Anakin's eyes gleamed—not with rage.
With anticipation.
"Helm," he said calmly. "All forward batteries charged. Open channel to the 501st fleet."
Static crackled.
Red-marked Venators aligned in tight assault formation behind them, engines flaring brighter within hyperspace's last shimmer.
"Three… two… one—"
Reality snapped back.
Stars exploded into view.
And ahead of them—
A wall.
Hundreds of Separatist warships hung like iron thorns in orbit over Christophsis.
The bridge lights shifted to combat alert red.
"Enemy formation confirmed!" an officer shouted.
"Shields up!"
"Power to forward cannons!"
Droid vessels began to pivot.
Anakin did not flinch.
"Admiral."
"Yes, General."
"Take us straight at them."
Yularen blinked once.
"Straight at them?"
The admiral's voice was heavy with alarm.
"That's an order, Admiral."
The admiral nodded, barking orders to the officers around him.
Confusion rippled through Separatist lines.
They had expected a slow attack, a gathering of a force, a calculated play, not a reckless attack with no regard for casualties.
Not this fast.
Yularen watched the formation begin to buckle exactly where Skywalker had predicted.
And for a moment—
Just a moment—
He understood why the Council worried.
Because Skywalker didn't merely fight wars.
He bent them.
And as the first turbolasers fired and space erupted into burning light—
Anakin smiled.
"Now," he murmured softly, "let's make them move."
Ships interlocked fields of fire. Frigates rotated in overlapping arcs. Droid fighters sat in staggered reserve, not clustered.
Someone intelligent had built this net.
A faint ripple of satisfaction moved through him.
"Admiral," Anakin said calmly, voice filtered through his mask, "signal Group Aurek to feint starboard. They deliberately plan to expose their dorsal shields."
Yularen blinked. "Expose—?"
Anakin interrupted the admiral."
"Give the signal to continue."
Orders snapped out.
Twenty destroyers peeled away, presenting a tempting weakness.
Across the void, Separatist batteries adjusted.
The trap sprang.
Turbolasers converged on the exposed flank—
—and Anakin moved.
"Now."
The remaining one hundred and thirty ships broke formation with surgical precision. Republic gunnery crews unleashed a concentrated barrage straight into the heart of the blockade's rebalancing maneuver.
Three frigates erupted in flame before their shields fully cycled.
A Recusant destroyer split in half.
Droid fighter squadrons scrambled too late.
On the bridge, clones exchanged glances.
It was the kind of move they'd come to expect from him—reckless on the surface, devastating in execution.
But across the battlefield, something adjusted.
On the bridge of the Separatist flagship, a towering spider-like figure stood.
Admiral Trench watched the Republic formation shift.
His compound eyes narrowed slightly.
"Interesting," he murmured. His pincers clicking together. An unnerving sound to anyone unused to the admiral.
"Recalculate firing arcs. Divert reserve squadrons to vector six. Prepare counter-rotation."
The droid crews obeyed instantly.
Back in Republic space, the results were immediate.
"Sir!" a clone shouted. "Enemy formations compensating—"
Anakin saw it too.
The blockade restructured in real time.
Ships pivoted into a tightening spiral. Their overlapping fields of fire now anticipated his flanking maneuvers before he made them.
Another Venator took a glancing blow. Then another.
Not catastrophic.
But precise.
"They're predicting us," Yularen muttered.
Anakin tilted his head slightly.
No.
Not predicting.
Studying.
He reached outward with the Force.
He felt a living being atop the command deck fo their capital ship. Not a droid, but alive, thinking.
"A living opponent for once," Anakin murmured.
Across the void, Trench leaned forward slightly.
"Deploy ion disruptors. Target the flagship."
Blue arcs of energy streaked across space.
The Resolute shuddered.
"Shields down to sixty percent!" came the report.
Droid fighters swarmed in disciplined waves, not the chaotic flood the Republic had grown accustomed to. They targeted engine clusters. Shield generators. Communications relays.
This was not a blunt instrument.
This was a scalpel.
Anakin's jaw tightened beneath the mask.
"Helm, roll twenty degrees port. All batteries concentrate on that central Munificent—yes, that one."
They fired.
The frigate detonated.
But for every ship they destroyed, the blockade absorbed the loss and rebalanced.
"Casualty reports increasing," Yularen said quietly.
Anakin's hands folded behind his back.
He could punch through.
Eventually.
But it would cost them dearly.
And that bothered him more than the resistance.
Then—
Space split again.
White streaks tore into reality behind them.
A hundred more Republic cruisers emerged in flawless formation.
Blue engine flares multiplied.
Two hundred and fifty ships now faced the blockade.
On the bridge, several clones straightened instinctively.
"General Kenobi has arrived," a trooper announced.
A holo flickered to life beside Anakin.
Obi-Wan Kenobi appeared, robes shifting in the projection's static glow, expression composed but firm.
"Anakin."
Anakin didn't turn to face the hologram. "You're late."
Obi-Wan smirked. "I had to bring the rest of the party."
Obi-Wan's gaze flicked past him to the battlefield. He assessed the wreckage, the shifting formations.
"And you've made quite the introduction."
"I've nearly broken them," Anakin replied, more annoyed at the fact than proud.
"Nearly," Obi-Wan echoed.
Another ion blast rocked the ship.
Obi-Wan's expression hardened slightly.
"We're not winning this exchange today. Not like this."
Anakin's silence stretched.
The blockade tightened again, adjusting to the increased Republic presence.
The Separatists had already begun redistributing his ships to prevent a pincer maneuver.
Whoever commanded this fleet was dangerous.
Very dangerous.
"Pull back," Obi-Wan said. "Retreat behind the moon. We can regroup and strike them as a unified force.
Anakin's fingers flexed once behind his back.
Retreat.
He hated that word.
"We have the momentum," Anakin heatedly replied.
"We have losses," Obi-Wan countered gently. "And an opponent who wants you to continue."
Anakin's eyes narrowed beneath the mask.
He could feel it.
He was being baited by the enemy.
Drawing him deeper.
Testing his patience.
"Anakin," Obi-Wan said more quietly now, almost brotherly, "trust me."
There it was.
Not an order.
Not Council protocol.
Trust.
Anakin exhaled slowly.
"Helm," he said at last, voice edged with reluctant steel, "fall back. All ships, defensive withdrawal pattern. Vector toward the moon."
Republic vessels began peeling away, firing in controlled volleys as they disengaged.
Droid forces pressed briefly—
—but Trench raised a limb.
"Hold position," he commanded calmly. "Let them run."
He watched the Republic fleet slip behind the enormous bulk of Christophsis's primary moon.
"They are impulsive," Trench mused. "But not foolish."
On the Resolute, the stars vanished behind the gray curvature of stone.
The fleet reformed in shadow.
Two hundred and fifty Venators hovered in tense silence, hulls scarred, engines glowing softly.
On the bridge, Anakin stood unmoving.
Obi-Wan's hologram remained.
"For what it's worth," Obi-Wan said lightly, "you did make quite an impression."
Anakin didn't respond immediately.
He stared at the moon's edge.
At the enemy hidden just beyond it.
"I almost had him," Anakin said quietly.
Obi-Wan's lips twitched faintly. "You almost always do."
A beat.
"What's your plan?" Anakin asked at last.
Obi-Wan's eyes gleamed.
"Oh, nothing reckless," he said. "Just something he won't expect."
Behind his mask, Anakin allowed the faintest smirk.
///
The hangar of Obi-Wan Kenobi's flagship was quieter than Anakin expected.
No frantic damage crews.
No shouted repair orders.
No smoke from breached hull plating.
Just ordered calm.
Republic technicians moved with purpose between ships under bright white floodlights, their silhouettes cutting across polished durasteel floors. Clones stood at attention along the edges of the bay, rifles slung, visors reflecting the overhead glare.
Anakin strode down the central platform, cloak shifting behind him, mask fixed forward. Even among Jedi, even among soldiers who had watched him tear apart Separatist formations hours earlier, space opened instinctively around him.
Obi-Wan waited near the far end of the hangar, hands folded in his sleeves, expression maddeningly composed.
Anakin stopped a few paces away.
"What am I doing here?" he asked, voice steady, filtered through the mask's low mechanical undertone.
Obi-Wan tilted his head slightly. "Good to see you too."
"I left my bridge for this."
"Yes, well, I thought you might enjoy the surprise."
Anakin glanced around. "If this is another lecture about patience—"
"Oh, no. Much more entertaining."
Obi-Wan stepped backward and gestured toward what looked like empty air.
"Two more steps."
Anakin didn't move.
"Trust me."
That word again.
Anakin took two measured steps forward.
His gloved knuckles rose and rapped casually in front of him—
—and struck something solid.
A metallic clang echoed through the hangar.
Anakin's head tilted slightly.
He stepped closer, hand flattening against empty space that very clearly was not empty.
Obi-Wan allowed himself the faintest smile and tapped a control pad mounted on the nearby wall.
The air shimmered.
Light bent.
And slowly—like a predator revealing itself—the outline of a ship emerged from nothingness.
Angular.
Compact.
Blacked hull plating reinforced with Republic markings.
Its surface absorbed light rather than reflected it.
Anakin didn't speak at first.
A cloaking device.
Not theoretical.
Not rumored.
Functional.
He circled it once, slow, assessing.
"You built this?" he asked quietly.
Obi-Wan raised a brow. "Hardly. Let's just say the Techno Union isn't the only one capable of innovation."
Anakin reached out with the Force.
The ship hummed faintly—contained, disciplined power. No excess. No wasted energy signature.
"You've had this the entire time?" Anakin asked.
"Not the entire time," Obi-Wan replied. "Just long enough."
Anakin stopped at the nose of the craft, mask reflecting his distorted image in the dark hull.
"I use something similar for special operations," he said evenly.
Obi-Wan glanced at him sideways. "I suspected as much."
There was meaning in that tone.
Anakin didn't elaborate.
Obi-Wan stepped closer to the ship, resting a hand against its hull.
"We're not breaking the blockade head-on," he said. "Not yet. There are civilians still on Christophsis. Bail Organa and a relief convoy are pinned down inside the lower city."
Anakin's shoulders shifted subtly.
"This isn't an attack run," Obi-Wan continued. "I need you to run supplies down to the surface in this."
Anakin groaned softly behind the mask.
"I just finished punching a hole in their outer ring," he muttered. "And now you want me delivering rations."
Obi-Wan folded his arms.
"I want you doing what you're very good at—accomplishing the impossible."
Anakin exhaled slowly.
He turned back toward the ship.
"I need you to fly this without theatrics, Anakin. This is an important mission that doesn't need the usual flare that follows you wherever you go."
"No promises."
Obi-Wan sighed.
"Just don't ignite anything that doesn't need igniting."
Anakin stepped toward the boarding ramp.
"Can't guarantee that either."
Obi-Wan called after him. "Anakin."
He paused at the base of the ramp.
Obi-Wan's expression softened slightly.
"Stay safe."
Anakin inclined his head once.
"I always am."
And he boarded
///
Elsewhere, aboard the Resolute, Admiral Yularen stood alone in his quarters.
The room was dim, illuminated only by a tactical holo-table casting pale blue light against the walls.
He replayed battle footage.
Again.
And again.
The Separatist formation adjustments.
The timing.
The rotation of defensive lines.
It was not random.
It was not droid-logic.
He zoomed in on a specific cruiser that had shifted position just before the Republic feint.
Its hull rotated slightly in the holo.
And there.
On the plating.
A faint marking.
Yularen froze the projection.
He leaned closer.
His jaw tightened.
"That can't be," he murmured.
He accessed archived Republic naval records—older conflicts, older engagements. Campaigns that predated the Clone Wars.
He overlaid the emblem.
Matched it.
Perfectly.
A stylized sigil etched into Separatist hull plating.
The mark of a naval tactician long presumed dead.
Yularen felt a chill creep along his spine.
"Admiral Trench…"
He straightened slowly.
If that spider survived…
If that mind was commanding the blockade…
This was not a standard engagement.
This was a strategist.
A patient one.
And General Skywalker had nearly charged directly into his web.
Yularen deactivated the holo-table and moved for the door.
He needed to inform the general immediately.
Because if Trench was alive—
Then Christophsis had just become far more dangerous than anyone realized.
///
The stealth cruiser drifted like a shadow against the dark curvature of Christophsis' moon.
Its hull absorbed starlight rather than reflecting it. No transponder pinged. No reactor flare betrayed its position. From a distance, it was nothing more than a distortion in space — an absence where something should have been.
Inside the cockpit, Anakin Skywalker sat forward in the pilot's cradle, gloved hands resting lightly on the controls. The mask of Revan stared ahead, unblinking, the faint red glow of instruments reflecting across its surface.
Behind him, Admiral Yularen stood with one hand braced against the bulkhead as the cruiser adjusted course.
"General," Yularen began, his voice level but urgent, "I've finished reviewing the combat data from our initial engagement."
Anakin didn't turn. "And?"
"It's him."
A pause.
Anakin tilted his head slightly. "You're going to have to be more specific, Admiral."
Yularen stepped closer to the forward display and tapped a projection into view. A Separatist command vessel rotated slowly in holographic blue.
"Admiral Trench," Yularen said. "Presumed killed years ago at Malastare Narrows. A tactical genius. Known for layered ambushes and predictive counter-maneuvers. He draws his opponents into overextension, bleeds them, then collapses their flanks with precision fire."
Anakin studied the hologram.
"And you're certain."
"I'd stake my commission on it."
A faint hum came from Anakin's mask — not a sound, but the quiet shift of breath behind it.
"So," Anakin murmured, "The Republic couldn't squish the spider."
"Yes, sir."
A long silence settled between them as the stealth cruiser slipped past the outer sensor grid undetected.
Yularen lowered his voice slightly. "With respect, General… if it is Trench commanding that blockade, a direct assault will cost us dearly."
Anakin's fingers tightened on the controls — not out of tension, but anticipation.
"Good thing," he said calmly, "we're not doing this directly."
The stealth cruiser angled downward, diving through the debris shadow of a drifting Separatist frigate carcass — remnants from the earlier engagement. It masked their trajectory perfectly.
Yularen frowned slightly. "You intend to eliminate Trench personally."
"I intend to remove the head," Anakin corrected. "The body will flail."
Ahead, Trench's command ship loomed — larger than the others, layered in reinforced plating, shield emitters cycling in slow pulses.
"Shields are at full," Yularen warned.
"I see that."
Anakin's hands moved — not hurried, not frantic — precise. He rolled the stealth cruiser beneath the dorsal plane of the flagship, riding its blind cone between shield modulation sweeps.
The stealth field flickered slightly as they brushed close to the energy threshold.
Yularen started to panic. "Sir, this was supposed to be a mercy mission. According to General Kenobi, this craft has no capabilities to defend itself should we decloak and fire torpedoes.
"There," Anakin whispered.
A narrow thermal vent array pulsed along the command vessel's ventral side — cycling as internal systems redistributed power.
"Trench reroutes excess reactor heat through that conduit during shield reinforcement," Yularen realized.
"Yes."
"You've already mapped it."
Anakin allowed himself the faintest tilt of amusement in his voice. "He's predictable."
The stealth cruiser rolled, inverted, and accelerated straight toward the vent.
Alarms flared suddenly across the Separatist flagship — faint pings detecting atmospheric distortion.
"General, they're sensing something—"
"I know."
Two Vulture droids peeled off from patrol and swept toward them.
Anakin cut engines completely.
The cruiser went dead — silent — drifting like debris.
The Vultures passed.
One veered back.
Anakin waited.
Waited.
Then ignited the engines in a violent burst of thrust, slingshotting the cruiser forward in a near-vertical climb before diving directly into the thermal exhaust channel.
"Firing solution locked," Yularen said sharply.
"Not yet."
The cruiser raced down the narrow heat shaft. Internal plating glowed around them as temperature warnings flared.
"Now."
Anakin launched three torpedoes — not into the core — but angled upward at the shield harmonics node just before the vent sealed.
The torpedoes vanished into the flagship.
For half a second, nothing happened.
Then—
A blinding internal detonation rippled through Trench's command tower. Secondary explosions cascaded outward as shield frequencies collapsed inward on themselves.
The flagship's own defensive countermeasures triggered reflexively — returning fire toward the perceived origin of attack.
Directly into its own exposed thermal channel.
Yularen stared as the Separatist command ship's internal batteries discharged into compromised shielding — the energy rebounding catastrophically.
Anakin pulled the cruiser up and out just as the entire upper half of the vessel erupted in white-hot plasma.
Through the viewport, the spider-shaped silhouette fractured.
Yularen exhaled slowly.
"You made him destroy himself."
Anakin's voice remained quiet.
"He trusted his own defenses too much."
The flagship split in half.
Across the blockade line, Separatist ships faltered — confused without centralized command.
The Republic fleet behind the moon surged forward.
Yularen allowed himself a small, tight smile. "The blockade will break within minutes."
Anakin said nothing.
He watched the wreckage spin — pieces of Trench's vessel scattering like embers.
After a moment, Yularen studied him carefully.
"General," he said more softly, "you didn't need to come yourself."
Anakin's hands rested still on the controls.
"Yes," he said evenly, "I did."
There was no arrogance in it.
Just certainty.
Yularen nodded once.
"Actually, Admiral, it was a request by Obi-Wan if that makes it any better."
The admiral chuckled.
"Jedi, a peculiar order that amazes me every day."
The stealth cruiser banked away, vanishing once more into darkness as the larger Republic assault began.
Behind them, Admiral Trench's burning remains drifted silently through space.
And somewhere deep within the Force, something stirred — not in triumph, but in recognition.
Anakin had removed a master tactician.
Not recklessly.
Not angrily.
But deliberately.
And that distinction mattered.
...
Alright, that's that, now im gonna post a second chapter cause Ive lost track of how many extra ones I said I was gonna post, but pretty much Im counting this one as two cause its nearly 4000 words, and I do about 2000 a chapter, but who cares. Next chapter up is Ahsoka-centered, and I think y'all will enjoy it.