"Commander," I said evenly, standing in Dittmar's hangar as salvage operations continued outside, "remind me—the original reason for the blockade?"
Dittmar clasped his hands behind his back. "The assassination of Togoria's lawful ruler. The current regime pledged allegiance to the CIS immediately after."
I nodded.
"So if we capture that regime's leader and deliver him to Coruscant for trial…"
Dittmar's eyes sharpened.
"…then the justification for further CIS intervention collapses," he finished. "And without centralized authority, internal factions will turn on each other."
"Precisely."
"No need for another Separatist relief fleet," he murmured. "Civil conflict will consume what remains."
He understood.
Then his expression shifted.
"But the capital's anti-starfighter grid is still operational. Heavy point-defense batteries. Shield towers. We would take losses before we—"
I was already moving.
"General?" he called.
"Hold orbit," I replied, climbing into my fighter. "You won't take any losses."
The canopy sealed.
Moments later, I was descending alone through the atmosphere.
---
### The Capital
The city sprawled across a plateau of stone and green.
Unlike the metallic megacities of the Core, Togoria's capital was strange—partly reclaimed by nature. Wide boulevards cut through expanses of tall grass. Government structures rose from patches of cultivated greenery, as though architecture and wilderness had never fully decided who owned the land.
The palace itself stood at the center—white stone against a sea of wind-swept grass.
Anti-starfighter cannons rotated upward as I approached.
Too slow.
A sharp dive. Engine burst. Slip between targeting arcs.
I skimmed over the outer wall and landed hard within the palace perimeter.
Three hundred guards rushed toward the landing zone.
Blue and orange uniforms. Blaster pistols. Electrified staves crackling.
They shouted commands.
I exhaled slowly.
Breathing technique.
Eclipse — Tenth Form.
Time seemed to narrow.
Footwork precise. Motion economical.
It was over in seconds.
No drawn-out struggle. No chaos.
Just silence falling across the grass.
A faint ripple moved through me.
Not shock.
Recognition.
In another life, I had seen battlefields far worse than this. I had faced machines and men who worshipped annihilation—defectors to Skynet, fanatics convinced destruction was salvation. Crazy cults, all of them.
Compared to that, this was… clinical.
Still—
Good thing Ahsoka wasn't here.
This would not have been good for her to witness.
I stepped over fallen bodies and entered the palace.
Guards inside were fewer. Resistance collapsed quickly.
The throne room doors burst open under a Force-assisted strike.
The self-proclaimed ruler stood from his elevated seat, terror overtaking defiance.
I didn't waste time with speeches.
A precise application of the Force.
He collapsed unconscious before finishing his first shouted order.
I hoisted him effortlessly and retraced my path.
No pursuit.
No organized defense left.
Minutes later, my fighter was airborne again, ascending through broken cloud layers.
---
### Departure
The Terminus awaited in orbit.
Hangar crews were prepared before I even landed.
The prisoner was secured immediately under heavy guard.
Kinaun appeared via holocomm.
"It's done?"
"It's done," I confirmed.
Dittmar stood in holo version nearby, watching the restrained ruler being escorted away.
"With him in custody," he said slowly, "the Senate will recognize the Republic-backed provisional council. The CIS loses its legal foothold."
"And the planet tears itself apart politically before any new fleet can intervene," Kinaun added.
I gave a single nod.
"All ships prepare for hyperspace jump," Dittmar ordered, confidence steady now—earned, not borrowed.
Outside, salvage ships continued harvesting the remains of the CIS armada.
Then the Republic fleet aligned.
Stars stretched into brilliant lines.
And the battle for Togoria—both in orbit and on the ground—came to its decisive end.