Alright, lots of things to talk about. First, the arc I really like is going to start. Second, bad news and good news. Im putting this fic on Hiatus at the end of the month. So until the 31st, usual updates will still be happening. It should only be like a month or so hiatus, but I won't be posting p@treon chapters on here until the hiatus is over. There are a number of reasons for the hiatus. Main reason is im burnt out on this, like sure it's AI, but I still create my own plot and point the system on how it's written, the way the arc goes, interactions, all the fun stuff. Second, im about to hit a really busy month in August, so with no shadow behind me expecting updates twice a week on days I could be relaxing and not stressing out, I'll be free to chillax. Also, the stress just makes chapters worse. Good news tho is that im in this phase of Game of Thrones and doing a Jon Snow fic, yes, it's with AI, who cares, and yes, I'll probably be posting it on here for those of you that care enough about asoiaf. So no, I won't be entirely silent. Sorry to all those who are enjoying this, but life comes first.
Hermit
...
Hyperspace painted the command deck of the Resolute in rivers of blue light.
The flagship moved at the heart of three Republic fleets, its hull leading the formation while two allied task forces held their positions in synchronized lanes beyond it. Obi-Wan's fleet rode off one flank, disciplined and tightly arranged around the steady blue-white markers of the 212th. Qui-Gon's task force held the opposite side, quieter in its formations, its ships arranged with enough flexibility that Admiral Yularen had once dryly remarked that they looked less like a battle group and more like a group of ships that had agreed on a destination after a philosophical discussion.
Anakin had found that funny.
Yularen had not intended it as a compliment.
The bridge was alive around them. Officers moved from station to station, voices low but constant, relaying navigational updates and readiness reports as the fleets cut their way through hyperspace toward the Muunilist front. The coming campaign had already been described in half a dozen ways by Republic command: urgent, unstable, high-risk, strategically vital. None of those words quite captured what the officers knew and what the Jedi could feel beneath the language.
The front was collapsing.
General Grievous had turned the sector into a graveyard.
Anakin stood at the forward holotable with Obi-Wan on one side and Qui-Gon on the other. His mask was in place, dark and ancient beneath the hood, his refitted armor adding to the already heavy shape of him. Since the operation on Korriban, he seemed to fill every room differently. He didn't need to speak for the bridge to know he was there. His presence pressed into the air, restrained but never fully quiet.
Across the table stood Commander Virek, helmet tucked beneath one arm, scarlet markings bright beneath the holo-glow. Beside him was Captain Rex, arms folded, watching the battle projections with the narrowed focus of a man already imagining which parts of the plan would go wrong first. Commander Cody stood near Obi-Wan, posture straight and practical, his attention moving between the fleet markers and the casualty projections with the calm displeasure of a soldier looking at bad numbers. Qui-Gon's commander, Cairn of the 119th Pathfinder Legion, stood a little apart from the others, quiet as weathered stone, his green-and-cream marked armor reflecting the colors of his general's campaign gear.
Admiral Yularen stood near the forward viewport, hands clasped behind his back, listening to the discussion while still watching the crew. He had the particular talent of seeming entirely absorbed in one conversation while missing nothing happening ten meters away.
Ahsoka was not on the bridge.
Anakin had sent her below with Jango Fett and Aiylan for training exercises, which likely meant she was currently being bruised, insulted, corrected, and improved all at once. Rex had looked amused when he heard where she was going. Virek had merely commented that if Commander Tano survived both Fetts in the same room, her battlefield awareness would improve by several measurable degrees.
Anakin had not disagreed.
Obi-Wan leaned over the holotable and adjusted the projection of Muunilist's near-orbital space. The planet appeared above the table in pale blue, ringed in red Separatist attack vectors and broken Republic fallback positions.
"Grievous has been using the northern mineral platforms as staging points," Obi-Wan said. "He strikes, withdraws behind the industrial fields, then reappears before the local defense forces can reform. It's less a siege now and more a controlled dismantling."
Cody nodded. "He's been targeting command relays first. Every time the Republic stabilizes one front, he cuts the communications behind it and forces them to fight blind."
"Typical Grievous," Anakin said, voice low through the mask. "Hit the throat first, then the spine."
Qui-Gon studied the map without speaking for a moment. "The reports from the survivors mention Jedi casualties."
Yularen turned slightly from the viewport. "Three confirmed dead. Two missing. One transport vanished during evacuation, though whether it was destroyed or captured remains unclear."
Rex's jaw tightened. "Grievous won't leave captured Jedi alive for long."
"No," Obi-Wan said quietly. "He won't."
A silence passed over the table, brief but heavy.
This was not the Grievous of panicked droid retreats and theatrical threats. This Grievous had reappeared on the Muunilist front like an old nightmare. He was fast, precise, and merciless. He did not merely command from behind lines. He led assaults personally when it mattered, carving through command posts, killing officers, shattering Jedi-led counterattacks before they fully formed. Reports from the front described him less like a general and more like a force of nature with four sabers and a talent for making courage look foolish.
Anakin moved one gloved hand across the projection, pulling up the map of the outer moon routes.
"He wants us to reinforce the main line," he said. "That's what the distress calls are shaped around. He's gutting the visible front to force the Republic to pour ships into the obvious gap."
Cairn's voice came even and thoughtful. "Then the true strike is elsewhere."
"Likely the refinery moons," Qui-Gon said.
Obi-Wan nodded. "Or the banking vaults beneath the southern capital. Muunilist is too valuable for him to simply burn. If Grievous is committing this much pressure, Dooku wants something from the world intact."
"Resources," Cody said. "Data. Financial records. Hostages. Perhaps all of it."
Virek shifted one marker slightly. "If we split too early, he isolates one fleet and destroys it before the others can support."
Yularen's eyes remained on the viewport. "If we stay concentrated, he has freedom to strike whichever target we leave uncovered."
"That's why we don't do either," Anakin said.
Obi-Wan gave him a sidelong look. "I have the distinct feeling I'm about to dislike this plan."
"You dislike most of my plans until they work."
"I dislike them before, during, and after they work. The success is usually a separate issue."
Qui-Gon's mouth curved faintly. "Some things remain unchanged."
Anakin tilted his head toward his former master. "I'm glad you're enjoying this."
"I take comfort in continuity."
Rex glanced toward Cody. "They always like this?"
Cody did not look away from the holo. "Worse, usually."
Cairn's expression remained unreadable, though there was a faint warmth in his voice when he added, "Master Jinn once spent an entire briefing convincing High Command that a retreat could be considered an advance if viewed from the enemy's position."
Qui-Gon's brows lifted. "That argument was sound."
Mace Windu was not present to disagree, but Obi-Wan looked as though he would have enjoyed watching him try.
The moment of levity helped. It did not last.
Anakin enlarged the projection again. "We let Grievous see what he expects. Obi-Wan's fleet takes the visible reinforcement route toward the main distress line. Qui-Gon's 119th breaks wide and shadows the refinery moons through the outer debris channels. I take the 501st straight down the center and make enough noise that Grievous has to decide whether he wants me or the objective."
Yularen finally turned fully from the viewport. "General, that assumes Grievous cares enough about engaging you personally to alter his plan."
"He does."
Obi-Wan exhaled softly. "Unfortunately, he probably does."
Qui-Gon looked between them. "And if he does not?"
Anakin's mask turned back toward the map. "Then we find out what he actually wants before he finishes taking it."
Virek studied the projection. "The 501st can absorb the first engagement, but if Grievous commits his full fleet, we'll need the 212th close enough to close the trap."
Cody looked to Obi-Wan. "That places us at risk of being caught between the main Separatist force and whatever reserves he's holding back."
"It does," Obi-Wan said. "Which is why we'll need to appear more committed to the main line than we are."
Rex smirked faintly. "A fake overcommitment. General Skywalker likes those."
"I like real overcommitments too," Anakin said.
"Believe me, sir, we know."
Before anyone else could respond, one of the communications officers turned sharply from his station.
"Admiral."
Yularen looked over at once. "Report."
The officer pressed one hand to his headset, his face tightening as he listened. "We're receiving an incoming transmission through the forward hyperspace relay."
"From the Muunilist front?"
"No, sir. That's the problem. I don't know where it's from." The officer glanced down at his panel, fingers moving quickly over the controls. "The signal is heavily degraded and riding an emergency band, but it isn't using standard Republic encryption."
Anakin straightened.
Obi-Wan turned toward the comm station.
Yularen's voice remained calm, but his attention sharpened. "Separatist?"
"I don't think so, Admiral. It's coded as a distress transmission."
Qui-Gon looked up from the holotable. "Then we should investigate."
Obi-Wan's response came immediately, not dismissive, but firm. "We are three Republic fleets en route to a collapsing front. We cannot simply divert every time an unknown distress signal crosses our path."
Qui-Gon turned toward him. "Every time? No. This time, perhaps."
"Qui-Gon."
"I know what you're going to say."
"That rarely stops you from needing to hear it."
Anakin stood silent between them, mask angled slightly toward the comm station.
Obi-Wan continued, more carefully now. "If this is a trap, we risk delaying reinforcements to Muunilist. If it is not a trap, we still don't know whether the emergency concerns a civilian convoy, a local patrol, smugglers, pirates, or some private war on the edge of the Unknown Regions. We have obligations already assigned."
"And yet," Qui-Gon said, "the strangest divergences have often led us to the most important discoveries."
Obi-Wan sighed because he knew exactly where this was going.
Qui-Gon's eyes softened with memory. "A damaged hyperdrive once led us to Tatooine. If we had treated that as an inconvenience, we would never have found Anakin."
Anakin's mask turned slowly toward him.
Rex looked down at the table as though suddenly fascinated by the projection. Cody did the same in a more disciplined way. Virek remained still, but the silence around him suggested even he understood that this was not the moment to comment.
Obi-Wan's expression shifted, and for a moment he looked not like a general or a Council member, but like the Padawan who had once stood on a desert world beside his master and had not yet known how violently the galaxy was about to change.
"That is not fair," Obi-Wan said.
"No," Qui-Gon replied gently. "But it is true."
The comm officer looked between them and the admiral, clearly uncertain whether he should continue trying to isolate the signal or pretend very hard that he was not listening.
Anakin moved to the forward edge of the holotable.
He closed his eyes beneath the mask.
The bridge seemed to quiet around him.
The Force was already moving.
Not loudly. Not with the violent pull he felt before battle or the cold warning that came before betrayal. This was subtler. A current beneath the current, drawing the three fleets sideways from the line Republic command had drawn for them. It did not feel like Mandalore. Not exactly. It did not feel like Muunilist either.
It felt like something alien pressed against the edge of known space.
Something wrong enough that the Force did not sing around it.
It recoiled.
Anakin opened his eyes.
"We divert."
Obi-Wan turned toward him. "Anakin—"
"I agree with Qui-Gon."
"Of course you do."
Qui-Gon looked almost apologetic. Almost.
Obi-Wan looked from one to the other, then upward as if asking the ceiling for patience the Force had declined to provide.
"Two to one, then."
Anakin's voice held the faintest trace of amusement through the mask. "Democracy prevails."
"That is not what this is."
"It's close enough for Republic work."
Even Yularen nearly smiled at that, though only nearly.
Obi-Wan drew in a breath and let it out slowly. "Very well. We investigate. But if Muunilist falls because we chased a ghost transmission, I reserve the right to be insufferable about it for the rest of both your lives."
Qui-Gon inclined his head. "Accepted."
Anakin looked toward the viewport. "Admiral, bring the fleets out of hyperspace at the signal's origin. Combat formation. Shields up before reversion."
Yularen turned at once. "Helm, recalculate. Signal Commanders on Kenobi's and Jinn's flagships. All vessels to immediate combat readiness. Weapons crews to stations. Fighter squadrons on standby but do not launch until we identify the situation."
The bridge transformed.
The low rhythm of readiness became something sharper. Officers repeated orders. Deck lights shifted subtly as combat protocols engaged. Across the fleet, three formations adjusted in hyperspace, warships aligning for a unified reversion out of the blue current and into whatever waited beyond it.
Rex placed his helmet under one arm and looked to Virek. "Here we go."
Virek's answer was calm. "We were already going."
"That's not what I meant."
"I know."
Cairn watched the navigation projection as the new coordinates locked. "The signal origin is close to the edge of the Unknown Regions."
Obi-Wan looked at Anakin. "You sensed that before he said it."
"Yes."
"And?"
Anakin did not answer immediately.
When he did, the bridge seemed to listen harder.
"Something is there that should not be."
Yularen glanced back at him, but did not ask for clarification. He had served with Anakin long enough to know that when Jedi spoke that way, the practical response was not debate. It was shields.
The countdown began.
"Reversion in ten seconds."
Coruscant was far behind them now. Muunilist and its disaster waited ahead somewhere along the intended route. For one suspended moment, the three fleets existed between decisions, between fronts, between the war they knew and the unknown signal pulling them elsewhere.
"Five seconds."
Qui-Gon stood calmly, though his eyes had gone distant.
Obi-Wan rested one hand near his saber.
Anakin did not move.
"Reversion."
Hyperspace collapsed.
The blue tunnel vanished into starlight, and the three Republic fleets dropped into realspace.
For a heartbeat, no one spoke.
The scene before them made language feel inadequate.
A fleet was dying.
Not Republic. Not Separatist. The vessels ahead were sleek, angular, and unfamiliar, their hulls dark and elegant in a way that seemed designed for cold distances rather than Core-world parade lines. Some were already burning, venting atmosphere and plasma into space. Others moved with disciplined precision even as they were carved apart.
And the ships attacking them were wrong.
Ahsoka might have called them ugly.
Obi-Wan might have called them alien.
Yularen, if forced to describe them later, would have said they violated every sensible instinct a naval officer developed over a lifetime.
They did not look built so much as grown and tortured into purpose. Their hulls curved in coral-like ridges and asymmetrical spines. Their surfaces seemed organic, dark and jagged, with patches that pulsed faintly as if alive. Weapons fire came from them in strange bursts, not like standard turbolasers or missiles, but violent emissions that tore into shields in ways the tactical displays struggled to classify.
The Force recoiled around them.
Qui-Gon felt it and went very still.
Obi-Wan's face tightened.
Anakin's gloved hand curled slowly at his side.
Yularen stared through the viewport, then snapped back into command. "Battle stations. Identify friendly vessels if possible. Bring shields to full and prepare to intercept incoming fire."
The comm officer shouted over the sudden surge of alarms. "Admiral, we're receiving a direct transmission from the damaged fleet."
Yularen looked to Anakin.
Anakin's mask remained fixed on the battle ahead.
"Play it."
The bridge speakers crackled.
Static filled the air first, then smoothed into a voice.
Calm.
Cool.
Far too controlled for a man whose fleet was being torn apart around him.
"This is Senior Captain Mitth'raw'nuruodo of the Chiss Expansionary Defense Force. We require immediate assistance. I repeat, we require immediate aid."
The voice never rose.
It did not break.
It did not plead.
And somehow that made the urgency beneath it feel sharper.
The transmission crackled again, then continued.
"Hostile vessels are of unknown origin. Conventional engagement patterns have proven insufficient. If you are receiving this, respond at once."
The bridge stayed silent for one long second.
Then Obi-Wan said quietly, "Chiss."
Qui-Gon's gaze remained on the alien ships.
Yularen looked toward Anakin. "Orders, General?"
Anakin stared through the viewport at the impossible enemy tearing through the Chiss formation.
The Force around those ships remained wrong.
Not dark.
Not light.
Absent in a way that made the space around them feel wounded.
His voice, when it came, was cold enough to carry across the command deck.
"All fleets engage."
Outside, the red-marked Venators of the 501st began to turn toward the battle.
And at the edge of known space, the Clone Wars brushed against something far older and far stranger than the Republic had ever prepared to face.