**Chapter 502**
**Trophies of the Spur**
**Dagon POV**
**Aboard the Gray Wolf – Command Bridge**
For the next three weeks, we crisscrossed the Outer Rim like ghosts in the night.
The route was chaotic, deliberately so, following leads pieced together from an old Hutt holodiary I had kept hidden aboard the *Scimitator*. It mentioned missile shipments from Cademimu meant to supply planetary defense batteries along the Celanon Spur — a vital trade route. Those worlds now lay vulnerable, their defenses stripped by Separatist sabotage and pirate raids.
It was boring work at times. Long hours in hyperspace, endless sensor sweeps, and waiting. But every cloud has a silver lining.
We destroyed three or four CIS squadrons during that time — small groups of three to four ships each. The second engagement was almost comical. They jumped out of hyperspace directly in front of us, presenting their broadsides like amateurs. The *Gray Wolf* and her escorts opened fire before they could even raise shields. Thirty Munificent-class frigates in total, torn apart in separate groups across the Balanor, Baskarn, Delderaan, Gobindi, Movris, Noonian, Odryn, Ord Sigatt, and Revery systems.
But the real prize came from the pirates and smugglers.
Their tactics were barely worthy of the name — brazen charges, psychological pressure, and sheer audacity. Against trained clones and my disciplined crews, it had little effect. The logical outcome was their complete destruction. The *Gray Wolf* alone accounted for the majority of their fleet.
Our greatest haul came from two heavily laden container ships we captured intact.
"General," Captain Piett reported with clear satisfaction, "the manifests confirm six hundred AT-PT combat walkers packed into one hundred and fifty containers. It looks like an order for some planetary government that never reached its destination."
I allowed myself a small, predatory smile. "Excellent. No intention of returning them to their 'rightful owner.' Have them transferred to Lantilles immediately for integration and training."
The AT-PT was a beautiful machine — the first true combat walker of the new generation, appearing roughly fifty years ago. One pilot inside an AT-PT could replace an entire infantry squad. A small detachment could stand in for a heavy weapons company. For the "pocket armies" of smaller planetary states, these light two-legged tanks often became the backbone of their armored forces.
At four meters long and between two-and-a-half to four meters tall, they could reach speeds of up to sixty kilometers per hour. Armed with a heavy double-barreled blaster cannon effective out to two kilometers and a 40-millimeter grenade launcher with a five-hundred-meter range, they were formidable. Their armor could shrug off light weapons and, in some cases, even medium blaster fire. Individual leg suspension gave them superb cross-country mobility and the ability to climb or descend slopes up to forty-five degrees, while the onboard computer calculated safe footing with every step.
The only real drawback was the grenade launcher's limited eight-round capacity and the somewhat cumbersome reload process in combat. Still, they were a massive upgrade over the lighter AT-RTs and even the AT-XTs in many scenarios.
These particular units were similar to the ones I had salvaged from the Katana fleet, except these carried extra dual pairs of blaster cannons. I made a mental note to have them fully upgraded once they reached Lantilles.
The pirates had other treasures as well.
Tens of thousands of credits — untraceable and useful. And aboard a small transport with no proper documentation, we found a shipment of weapons: several hundred blasters and forty brand-new BD-1 Cutter vibro-axes manufactured by SoroSuub.
"Vibro-axes," I muttered, picking one up from the inspection table later that day. "Expensive. Five hundred credits each. Not many people use them anymore. Inhumane, they say. Leaves quite the mess."
I activated the weapon. The monomolecular edge hummed to life with a vicious vibration.
"Still," I said with a dark smile, "free is free. We'll find a use for them."
I set the axe down and looked out the viewport at the stars streaking past.
Every battle, every captured ship, every new weapon added another layer to our strength. The Valahari investigation was the primary mission, but these side operations were making us stronger with every passing week.
The girls were growing too — especially Aayla, who was slowly coming out of her shell through hard training and quiet support. The harem continued to deepen, bonds strengthening in both love and combat.
I allowed myself a moment of satisfaction.
The war was far from over.
But we were winning the small battles that would one day decide the large ones.