Author - I love spring, finally it was 18 celcius and sun was out. I felt like that peaceful dog meme.
The command centre was quieter than usual that morning, the kind of quiet that settles after a storm has passed but before the next one arrives. The holotable in the center glowed with the latest system scan green dots for our positions, faint red flickers for pirate outposts that were still active but scattered.
I sat alone at the head of the table, the Black Sun datachip resting between my fingers like a live grenade.I turned it over once then did it again.
Thalornator Xixrzan voice echoed in my head from two weeks ago from the holo number he left in the chip, we had a small chat about the contents of the chip: It was gesture of friendship. Updated trade routes safe corridors names of confederation buyers who are no longer welcome at their tables and those that still supply them through 3rd party groups who the Black Suns have generously allowed me to kill my self.
They just dont want to do it themselves so they frame it as letting me go after my enemies, whatever, I will get all the loot from it then.
There was also a list of items we would be very interested in acquiring from Elyria mainly local produce, wood, minerals and others.
The data flowed across the surface of the holotable in clean, organized layers.
First layer: Trade routes, red lines snaking through the southern to south eastern Outer Rim they were safe corridors the Black Sun controlled or influenced, Imperial patrols are thin here and any patrolling pirates are mostly under one organisation or the other with a few independent ones like the confederation having some ships there.
There were also supply lines the confederation still used to get their weapons now that they can't get what they want from Black Suns.
I traced one with my finger: it skirted the edge of confederation space, passed close to one of their minor outposts, then curved toward a known vault location from the Chagrian's interrogation. A perfect choke point.
Second layer: Confederation buyers cut off, a list of names various different faction leaders, like one small time Hutt, some slaver captains, mercenaries, smugglers and others who had been quietly blacklisted.
No more heavy weapons, light arms only and other supplies, and even those delayed.
I snort. "Quality control issues and shipping complications."
The Black Sun's polite way of saying you're on your own and kicking them to the curb and locking the door.
Third layer: What they wanted from us in particular and what they have for sale etc. As I look through the things they have on sale, because while they are a criminal organisation they do sales to entice buyers.
Capitalism. Love that.
From what I am seeing they somehow got a hold of an old Lucrehulk command ship from the CIS but fuck me the price on that fat bitch is astronomical, while cheaper than brand new which costs 500 million credits. This one is 2nd hand and on sale and still 350 million, and if I pay additional 5.5 million I can keep all the remaining droids on there, 95million more and I can keep everything they have from fighters to tanks to supplies and anything on the memory boards.
If only I could I would buy it, they dont make any more of those behemoths, last one was made at 17BBY by a CIS holdout in the mid rim.
I leaned back in the chair.
The datachip wasn't just a gift, it was leverage and opportunity for deeper connections to get things that would get bogged down in burrata red tape while getting partners that care for profit and efficiency and not egos like a lot of imperials.
I pulled up the map of known pirate positions.
The small outposts were still there, some having been hit or abandoned maybe raided by others, they are all mostly lightly garrisoned apart from a few. The stash vaults were isolated and hidden with small but elite guard detachments, The shipyard two systems away the main command base/hub was still the big prize, but it was far and too heavily defended and with a lot of ships and pirates there all on guard against each other not to mention me now and others.
The shipy yard would not be good for another of our strikes, we have only hit like 4 or 5 now we need to keep it small still ,hit the outposts, free slaves and take supplies it would also be good way to test our new forces.
I saved the data and ejected the chip then locked it in the secure drawer.
After that I opened a channel to the core military group. "Everyone to the command center. We need to talk strategy."
The replies came fast from everyone.
I leaned back and waited.
***
The command centre filled quickly.
I waited until everyone was settled. Then I activated the holotable, The Black Sun data flowed across the surface. "Black Sun," I said. "They sent this information to us along with a polite request for more Elyrian goods and increase in trade, this time officially from system to system and not smuggling."
A low murmur went around the table, Torv grunted. "Syndicate friendship, they are no better than pirate scum, they just have more bodies, resources, connections and teeth."
"Exactly," I said. "But the teeth are pointed at the confederation this time."
Jaster leaned forward. "Enemy of my enemy is my friend... Infighting plus no supplies. They're weaker than ever."
Reza nodded. "We can exploit that."
I tapped the holotable, the map zoomed in on the nearest pirate outposts small dots scattered across three systems. "Start small," I said. "Perfect opportunity to test our new forces we can use the safe corridors Black Sun gave us to approach undetected.
Karlchlan shifted. "Timing?"
"As soon as possible," I said. "We have a week or so before the relief supplies with reinforcements arrive, we can test our forces on some of the small outposts, then we can also integrate the reinforcements gradually to our operations."
Torv grunted. "Risks?"
"Not many, these outposts are not that heavily defended they mostly rely on the overall secrecy and the fear factor of the confederation which is stupid," Reza said immediately. "At most a few dozen pirates some small ships and fighters."
Jaster added, "Mandalorians will function as shock troops and forward recon attackers to sneak in and start a fight within while the assaults starts. Stormtroopers and militia in support to mop up the rest."
Sira spoke quietly. "Militia's ready, more than 2,000 strong now mostly fully armed and ready and with extensive training with a lot being blooded.
"Thorn added, "Palace guards will hold the home front, we will send a token to get some experience along with a few of the older ones to guide them."
The meeting broke up slowly people talking in low voices, datapads exchanging notes, plans already forming.
Rusty came up to me and bumped into my leg on purpose and let out a series of beeps that roughly translated to something along the lines of "Your so busy you dont even have time for your first droid friend? You wound me meatbag."
I chuckle and pat his spinning dome.
"I have an idea buddy, how about when everything settles down we make you a brand new body?"
The happy and rapid beeps he released would not stop for an hour.
***
9 days later the alert came without fanfare as I was looking over a report on a successful raid on a small outpost where 24 pirates were killed and 2 ships destroyed, it was good haul I guess? We got some supplies, weapons and freed around 17 slaves.
There was a soft chime from the console, followed by Reza's voice. "Governor, the imperial relief convoy is inbound. ETA thirty minutes, they are big."
I stood up from my chair. "Big how?"
"Few huge haulers and an Imperial Star Destroyer as escort, the Destroyer will leave once unloading is complete to escort the haulers back there are also the Acclamators."
I stared at the console for a second. A Star Destroyer working as an escort for the relief convoy.
Damn, Pellaeon hadn't been exaggerating.
I grabbed my imperial coat along with the standard outfit that would be expected for a governor to wear, I don't know if the people who are arriving are a pain in the ass about things such as this so its better to just do it.
"I'm heading to the starport, meet me there."
The walk to the main hangar felt longer than it should have corridors were bustling now guards snapping to attention, militia runners moving fast, native workers pausing to watch as I passed.
Word had spread quickly that the relief from the Empire has just arrived and everyone is in a rush to prepare to receive it all.
I finally reached the hangar with my 2 guards and see my now modified and personal landspeeder there that was waiting along with some guards on speeder bikes.
Torv was already inside, heavy repeater across his lap, as I began to start getting in there was a sound of someone flying on a jetpack, there Jaster and Atii flew towards us and landed a few paces away.
"Thought you'd want company," Jaster said while Atii gave my arm a punch as she shoved past me to sit.
I just sighed and instead of sitting beside Atii I squeezed between Torv and Jaster as my 2 guards sat beside her. I just gave her a grin as she deadpanned at me.
The speeder lifted smoothly, slid out through the hangar doors, and accelerated toward the starport. The city blurred past streets bustling with activities, as the sun was beaming down through the clouds.
We arrived at the main landing field made specifically for large transports, we got there just as the convoy broke atmosphere.
The Star Destroyer appeared first a massive wedge of gray durasteel, scarred but imposing, its turbolasers dark but ready. It hung high above the city, but not high enough. The fucking captain is trying to scare me and my people to get a weird power boner out of it probably the fucking freak.
I turn to Jaster and whisper "If that fucker lowers the ship down more to endanger other ships flying or touches the anti orbital shielding I want squads of mandalorians to breach the bridge and bring the fucker down here to his knees so he can look for himself from up close how the planet and city looks.
Jaster just gave me the faintest of smirks, which for him might as well be a full on laugh.
From behind it the haulers descended five enormous bulk transports, engines roaring, hulls painted in fresh Imperial white, they settled onto the reinforced pads with heavy thuds that shook the ground.
The Destroyer thankfully stayed high, Jaster almost seems dissapointed.
Then the haulers opened their ramps, and from them supplies poured out by the ton. Crates of medical supplies, bacta tanks, kolto reserves, rations, power cells, spare parts for ships and vehicles and more like food and even a few good weapons like Merr-Sonn Missile System to take down ships and heavy armoured vehicles.
Work crews moved in immediately the crews and droids from the ships moved stuff down and out of the ship while my crews and droids took them and started handing and sorting them into different sections of the rather huge plaza, some are being directly put on sleds by crates to be immediately carried away.
Two ships had come down with the haulers and landed off to the side, they were old Clone Wars-era Acclamators, hulls battered but engines steady, Republic markings scrubbed off completely.
They settled on secondary pads, ramps dropping with a hiss of hydraulics. The clone senior officers stepped out first, they were aged gray at the temples, lines around the eyes but they moved with the same precise discipline I remembered from childhood, their armour was polished but there are clear signs of extensive wear, their pauldrons marked with rank while their blasters were holstered but ready.
The lead clone stepped forward first. Tall, broad-shouldered helmet under his arm and is face was weathered, but the eyes were sharp, he had a buzz cut. "Governor Kael," he said. Voice deep and steady. "CC-5597, Ridge. Commanding officer, Acclamator detachment. Reporting as ordered."
I extended a hand, he looked mildly surprised for a second as he hesitated, but never the less he took it with a firm grip. "Captain Ridge," I said. "I spoke and spent times with clones like you when the war was still ongoing and I was younger. My father was an Acclamator captain himself, he always said the clones were the backbone and most reliable soldiers one could find. I never forgot that."
Ridge's expression didn't change much, but something flickered in his eyes respect, perhaps surprise again.
"Appreciated, sir," he said. "Not many say that anymore."
The second clone stepped up, younger-looking but not by a lot, probably one of the last batches to be made but still seasoned. He saluted crisply.
"CT-8812, Hawk. Second-in-command." I returned the salute. "Welcome to Elyria."
Ridge gestured to the ships behind him. "Two Acclamators, full complement a lot of clone crews who are experienced, but limited numbers. Supplemented with human officers and enlisted. We're here to serve under your command."
I nodded, after a few more minutes of talking the unloading continues with as the Destroyer above began to climb its engines flaring, turning away from the planet, escort duty done it will probably wait till the unloading fully finishes to guide the ships back.
I looked at Ridge and Hawk. "Let's get you settled," I said. "We have a lot to discuss."
***
The relief convoys speed at unloading their cargo is a sight to behold, everything is perfect. Down to the last minute detail, the ground crews cant keep up and there is a noticeable backlog starting to form around the ships.
As we walked Ridge and I started talking.
Along with the two Acclamators came a few platoons of fresh stormtroopers around 200 total, they marched in perfect formation across the landing field, armour still shiny and polished, reflecting the late afternoon sun in blinding white flashes. Fresh out of training.
No scars, no dents. No ridges or lumps, no valleys or bumps; No stories etched into the plastoid yet. They looked like they belonged in a recruitment holo, not a warzone.
I watched them from the briefing room window for a moment before turning back to the table.
Everyone was already here: Lira and Mira sat together on one side Lira tapping notes on her datapad, Mira quiet but attentive. Rusty rolled to a stop near my chair, dome lights flickering as he scanned the room.
Torv leaned against the wall, heavy repeater propped beside him because of course he brings blasters to the shower as well probably. Karlach sat with his injured shoulder he got after a wall collapsed on him from a grenade during a fight against pirates, his shoulder was propped on a cushion, face set in that stubborn line he always wore when he refused to admit pain.
Jaster and Atii stood near the back Jaster's arms crossed, Atii leaning casually against a console. Harlan blessed be his bureaucratic soul, he hovered near the door, looking slightly out of place among the warriors.
Elara sat closest to me, cloak folded over the back of her chair while Sira the militia commander stood at the far end, datapad in hand, ready to report.
And the clones, Ridge, Hawk, and a third officer, CT-7743 "Viper" stood around the holotable, Viper looks like he belongs in clan Vhett with Toren, he stood at parade rest near the holotable face a cold, emotionless mask.
I took my seat at the head. "Status," I said.
Ridge stepped forward first. "Two Acclamators, sir. Resolute Dawn and Iron Vanguard. Clone crews experienced, Clone Wars veterans, final batch. Limited numbers, but supplemented with human officers and enlisted. Ships configured for troop transport and orbital support. Full armament intact, crews fully, only 200 stormtroopers on board sir out of the 32,000 space available, sir. Ready for deployment."
Hawk then added, "Fresh out of training. armour still shiny. They're 'shinies,' sir."
A low chuckle went around the table, Torv's deep rumble the loudest as I heard him mumble something about "youngsters pissing grass" and that he will "whip them into shape so they sweat blood."
I smiled faintly. "Shinies. I remember that term. My father used it when he talked about new reinforcements."
Ridge's expression didn't change much. "Shinies learn fast, sir," he said. "Especially when the veterans are watching."
I nodded. "Capabilities?"
Viper spoke up in a cold and detached monotonous voice. Great, another Roose Bolton like Toren.
"Acclamators excel at troop deployment and orbital fire support. Resolute Dawn is configured for rapid insertion we retained a partial complement of LAATs, AT-TEs, speeders. Iron Vanguard leans heavier into turbolasers, concussion missiles, one attacks the other deploys."
I leaned forward. "Assignments. Resolute Dawn goes to training new crews under the eyes of experienced clones. Pilots, gunners, engineers. Get our people up to speed, Iron Vanguard on patrol secure the system, orbital cover for any potential raids. Switch roles every so often. Keep both ships sharp."
Ridge saluted. "Understood, sir."I looked around the table.
"Lira, Mira coordinate logistics with the clones. Supplies, berths, training schedules. Rusty link their systems to ours for real-time updates. Torv, Karlach integrate the shinies into militia drills. Jaster, Atii work with the clones on joint tactics. Elara, Sira make sure the natives feel included and up the recruitment, I would love to fill out the two ships full of brave Elyrian men and women. Harlan handle the paperwork." Everyone nodded, though Harlan looks like he will need more af and perhaps a personalised servant droid to take care of making caf exclusively for him.
The room buzzed with quiet conversation datpads exchanging notes, clones and mandalorians already discussing joint drills, militia commanders planning integration.
I leaned back and focused on my own thoughts.
Two Acclamators and a small complacement of stormtroopers that is no-where near to even filling out the two ships along with fuck ton of supplies.
It was more than I'd expected honestly. But it came with Pellaeon's test.
Loyalty, taxes, pirates and dissidents.
I looked at Ridge. "Welcome to Elyria, our own small slice of paradise" I said with a light smile,
Ridge saluted again. "We serve, sir."I nodded.
The meeting continued. But in my head, I was already thinking ahead, mainly about my bed and the delicious dinner we will be having later along with desert.
***
The briefing room was still humming with quiet conversation even after the assignments had been made. The clones Ridge, Hawk, Viper stood at parade rest near the holotable, their armour reflecting the soft overhead lights in muted silver. Gone are the days where we had flickering broken lights.
Upgrades people, upgrades!
The fresh stormtroopers had been dismissed to barracks for orientation, tomorrow they are in hell, mandalorian trainers will eat them alive.
The room smelled faintly of plastoid polish and recycled air with a hint of caf.
I stayed seated at the head of the table, hands flat on the surface, watching everyone move.
Lira and Mira were already coordinating logistics with Viper, Mira visibly afraid of him. Well she is afraid of mostly everyone thats new and scary looking like Viper or Jaster.
Their datpads were exchanging schedules, supply manifests, berth assignments. Rusty rolled slowly around the perimeter, red sensor sweeping the clones' armour, cataloging serial numbers and weapon configs.
Torv and Karlach were talking low with Hawk about joint drills Torv's deep rumble contrasting Hawk's clipped, precise tone.
Jaster and Atii stood near the back wall, Jaster's arms crossed, Atii leaning casually against a console, one boot tapping idly while Harlan hovered near Elara, datapad in hand, looking slightly out of place among the warriors as he multi tasks of working with Elara, drinks caf and looks at a 2nd datapad and does paperwork, truly he will get some help in form of specialised droids soon, I promise.
Sira the militia commander stood beside Thorn, both reviewing militia integration plans, the clones were the center of it all. I watched Ridge for a moment with his gray temples, lines around the eyes, but still moving like a man who'd seen every kind of battlefield and walked away.
He caught my gaze and gave a small nod. Respectful and professional but not unkind or distant.
I thought about my parents for a bit, my father had commanded an Acclamator during the Clone Wars same class as these two ships, though his were fully manned and equipped not what we got.
He'd talk about the clones late at night when he thought I was asleep. "They're not droids," he'd say. "They're men. Better than most men, loyal and brave. They fight because they not only were made for it but because they believe in something bigger than themselves, they believe in the Republic and the chancelor"
I'd met a few when I was younger visiting the shipyards with my father, standing on the bridge while clone officers saluted crisply, faces identical but voices distinct. One CT something or other had knelt to my level, handed me a small Republic cog token, and said, "For luck, kid." I still had it somewhere in a drawer.
While another allowed me to shoot his blaster at a couple of taken B1 droids who ran around like headless chickens with arms in the air screaming, I did manage to hit one in the shoulder out of all the shots.
That memory brough a smile to my face, but then it quickly faded.
The Empire treated them like trash now. Phased out and replaced, called relics. and obsolete. Not treated like sentient beings but as particularly smart tools to be used and discarded once they were not needed.
But here they were. Still serving, still sharp and loyal.
Pellaeon's loyalty test echoed in my head. Pay your taxes, deal with pirates,root out dissidents and more help and rewards will come my way.
I looked at Ridge again He met my eyes. No judgment, just readiness.
I thought about the Thrawn package I'd sent two weeks ago. Elara had helped me select it woven clan tapestries from the eastern tribes, ritual pottery fired with mountain minerals, raw recordings of old songs, preserved native foods (dried root spices, fruit preserves), a handwritten notebook on Elyrian history and culture. And the crystals beautiful, rare, found only in the deep caves on the southern continent. They had curious properties faint luminescence in low light, a soft chime when struck just right in different colours of green and blue predominantly.
The clans hadn't wanted to part with them since those crystals are difficult to get to as the place they are found is rife with danger and full of mazes and naturally occurring traps. I'd had to spend a small fortune in credits and promises to get even a handful. I'd packaged it all carefully.
Sent it via secure courier to an Imperial relay station with a short message:
To Grand Admiral Thrawn. From Kael Voss, son of Armand Voss and Elena Voss Governor of Elyria, Southern Outer Rim. Artifacts of my system. As you valued my parents' open-mindedness, I hope these speak to you.
I was still waiting for a response. The thought made me chuckle quietly—enough that Atii noticed. She pushed off the wall and stalked over to me, dropping into the chair beside me with a dramatic sigh. "Old clone relics," she said not unkindly but as a tease, she said it loud enough for the clones to hear.
"They're technically Mandalorian, you know, so like my cousins, afterall they were Jango Fett's template. You planning on turning Elyria into Mandalore 2.0?"
The room went quiet for a second.
I turned to her. "They're not the only old ones around here." I say that as I pointedly look at her, even though she is only a year older than me.
Atii's eyes narrowed as she pouted full lower lip out, arms crossed. "I'm not old."
Before I could reply, she punched me in the shoulder hard.
I yelped and the chair tipped making me fall sideways, landing on the floor with a thud.
Laughter erupted around the table Torv's deep rumble, Jaster's quiet chuckle, even Sira cracked a smile. The clones stayed stoic, but Hawk's lips twitched.
Atii stood over me, hands on hips. "I'm not old," she repeated, glaring down.
I pushed myself up, rubbing my shoulder. "Noted," I said, grinning despite already feeling the bruise forming. She offered a hand and I took it.
Oh damn.
She pulled me up effortlessly like I weighed nothing. she is stronger than she looks I will give her that.
"Next time," she said, "watch your mouth you never comment about a ladies age." She says with an upturned nose and a haughty voice. Sira and Elara chuckled from the side as if agreeing with her.
I saluted mockingly making my face to appear neutral. "Yes, ma'am."
She then patted my face as she gave me a small grin with her eyes narrowed behind her brown bangs that fell slightly in front of her eyes. "Good boy." She then walked away while smirking.
Aye yo? What the fuck?
A series of beeps pulled me out of my spiral, it was rusty slamming into my leg as he beeps at me rapidly and loudly. The things he said to me about this particular situation that just happened is not something I wish to hear or think about.
I lean down and whisper to him "Fuck up or I will turn your new body into a portable fucking caf maker for Harlan you ungrateful little shit, have some respect for your creator."
His reply consisted of basically "lmao" before he started laughing and making fun of me again.
***
The dinner had been quiet.
Quieter than usual, the palace dining hall was fuller these days with the new arrivals as well as us filling out all the positions in the palace. Mandalorians from all 4 clans eating alongside militia officers, stormtroopers in their off-duty grays, native workers sharing stories over bowls of spiced stew and flatbread.
Laughter had drifted from the lower tables, the clink of utensils and mugs, the occasional shout in Mando'a, basic or Elyrian dialect. I'd stayed long enough to make an appearance, exchange nods with Jaster and Ridge, let Atii tease me about "old clone relics" again (she hadn't let the chair incident go), then slipped out before the dessert trays arrived.
Now the palace corridors were mostly empty. Night shift guards saluted as I passed, boots echoing on polished marble, I reached my private quarters larger than before, the walls now decorated with a few things I picked up along the way or gifts I received: a woven clan tapestry on one wall showing what I can only presume an ancient battle, surprisingly depicting a lightsaber user, a small mineral carving on the shelf, a preserved bottle of root spice sealed in glass and a photo with me Lira, Mira, Atii and Rusty hanging out since we are all roughly same age.
The bed was wider too, new frame, thicker and more comfortable mattress, dark gray linens. I'd started sleeping better lately. Not great, or longer, but better.
I kicked off my boots, sat on the edge of the bed, and pulled the datapad from the nightstand.
Ahh, last checkup before I can finally sleep in a bit earlier and then tomorrow sleep in a little later, I can laze around a bit.
That thought put a smile on my face as I started reading the datapad.
The screen lit up with the latest consolidated force report, mostly Reza's work, updated every evening.
I scrolled slowly:
Militia: 2,000 strong, training ongoing. New recruits coming in every day from natives, clans and some freed slaves integrating well. Varn's stormtrooper program churning out replacements, the 200 new ones will be added to training, discipline improving.
Mandalorians: Beviin (~40, technicians/pilots) already in repair yards.
Vhett (<80, scouts) running patrols.
Torvyn (formerly Ordo splinter, ~100) in engineering zones.
Total ~220 warriors + ~900–1,200 civilians settling in.
Ships: mix of Kom'rks, civilian freighters/haulers, all being serviced.
Stormtroopers: 200 fresh shinies from the relief convoy, armour still gleaming. Integrated with militia drills. Morale high.
Clone crews: Acclamator Resolute Dawn preparing for training of new pilots/gunners/engineers. Iron Vanguard beginning patrol around the edges of the system, clone officers (Ridge, Hawk, Viper) respected, no friction.
New fighters/bombers: 12 X-wings, 8 Y-wings, Z-95sall operational. Pilots training with Atii and Vhett scouts.
I set the datapad on my lap for a second as I yawned and took a drink.
The numbers were solid. I then closed the datapad, took a quick sonic shower. God, or is it force here? I dont know, anyone please I want a normal water shower but almost no one in this galaxy uses them.
After that I finally settled in my bed under the covers and closed my eyes as I exhaled in contentment and relaxed.
"Finally, inner pea-"
Alert
Alert
Alert
"OH FOR THE LOVE OF FUCK!!"
I shot up in my bed as I picked up the datapad.
The urgent ping kept on chiming sharp and insistent, red alert icon flashing.
Scout drone feed?
I tapped it open and the feed showed the pirate shipyard two systems away, grainy but clear.
Dozens of ships docked, lights blazing, activity everywhere. Then it sped forward a bit to show that a battle started.
Factions, multiple confederation splinter groups flags mismatched different IFFs, weapons turning on each other, some flashes coming out of the yard itself as a YV-666 Light Freighter was basically exploded in half at the docks.
Blaster fire and torpedoes' screaming. Explosions everywhere as fighters and various bombers zoom around larger ships who in turn start ramming into eachother.
Hangars were breached, the footage was sped up and the timestamp showed It lasted less than an hour. Quick, brutal and chaotic.
When it ended, the shipyard was scarred with hull breaches venting atmosphere with docking arms twisted and debris floating in slow orbits, some bodies of various species drifting around.
But the fighting stopped, and when it did the survivors consolidated under the strongest faction the ones that won.
Banners raised, cheers were echoing across open comms. Celebrations began immediately, lights flashing, music blaring, ships firing celebratory salvos into space.
I stared at the feed, they were drunk on victory.
Drunk on liquor.
Drunk on the illusion that they won and no one can stop them.
But what I saw was that they were disorganised, about to be drunk to 7 hells and lax in their defences after a fight like that.
I felt the cold spark of opportunity ignite.
This was it.
The perfect time to strike.
I closed the datapad and opened the holo communications and started sending urgent messages as I started planning.
My precious need for sleep and lazing around gone, reduced to ashes as a spark of opportunity ignited within me.