Phew. That could have gone worse.
Between my own memory and the engineering battalion's astromech databases, I had managed to dig up two viable ship models: the Marauder-class corvette and the H-6 Scurrg heavy fighter-bomber. Fortunately, both had been developed long enough ago to appear in public procurement catalogs. If they had been classified projects, that proposal would have died before it left my mouth.
Apparently, the H-6 had even seen use among pirate groups and so-called "rebels." Though these days, it was increasingly difficult to tell the difference between freedom fighters, opportunists, and criminals with a slogan.
Still—credit where it was due. Yoda had surprised me.
"Support the capture of the planet," he had said.
Easy to say.
How many enemy divisions? What fortifications? What naval presence? What exactly was General Squater bringing to the table? Was I expected to improvise the rest?
Wait.
There was an attached file.
I opened the dossier and began scrolling.
Diado. Located on a secondary branch of the Parlemian Trade Route. Currently under control of Trade Federation administrators. Icy world. Polar temperatures averaging minus ninety standard degrees. Equatorial zones a comparatively mild minus fifteen.
Charming.
No native sentient population, but colonized by twelve species—Humans, Twi'leks, Devaronians, Rodians, Ithorians, Verpines… even Jawas. That last detail almost made me laugh.
The settlers were reportedly dissatisfied with Trade Federation oversight but lacked the organization—or courage—for open revolt.
Minimal flora and fauna. Limited but valuable deposits of rare ores and refined metals. Two small moons in stable orbit.
Sparse data. Very sparse.
At least I knew where we were going—and that it would be cold enough to freeze a blaster bolt mid-flight.
The Council had at least assigned five Acclamators under my command. That was something. Five troop carriers with decent orbital bombardment capacity meant I would no longer have to dodge every CIS landing pod like a target drone.
Turning to one of the B-1 units stationed near me, I gave a curt nod.
"Summon the regimental commanders and the captain of the *Marat*. Briefing in two hours."
"Roger, roger, General!"
The B-1s had become… oddly useful.
I still hadn't managed to acquire an R-series astromech. On Separatist vessels, those units were rare and expensive—worth more than an entire company of B-1s. Instead, I had appropriated two OOM-series battle droids.
Unlike standard B-1s with fourth-class AI, the OOMs ran third-class systems—more stable, more adaptive. They were less expendable in direct combat but came equipped with enhanced communications packages capable of maintaining contact up to one hundred kilometers planet-side and even sustaining limited orbital links.
Crude, but effective.
---
Two hours later, the command post was full.
"So, officers," I began, "two pieces of news."
Eyes focused on me.
"First: five Acclamators are inbound. Each reportedly carries three regiments of clones and one hundred fifty fighters."
That caused a noticeable shift in posture across the room.
"Second?" Ahsoka asked immediately.
"Patience, Dust," I replied calmly. "This is a briefing, not a theatrical monologue where I storm out dramatically."
A few clones suppressed smiles. Ahsoka flushed faintly.
"We have been assigned to support General Squater's assault on Diado. Travel time: approximately fourteen hours, plus loading and fleet coordination. That gives us roughly forty-eight hours to prepare."
I activated the planetary projection.
"Commander Blam. I'm taking the Second, Third, and Fourth Regiments. Three battalions of droids. Twenty AT-TEs, one hundred fifty AATs, twelve SPHAs, and half of our speeder complement."
Blam nodded crisply. "Yes, sir."
"You retain the First, Fifth, and Sixth Regiments, plus the *Akagi* and remaining garrison assets. If the CIS probes our sector while we're gone, you are authorized to hold defensive positions or withdraw to Phase Line Aurek. You know the contingency plan."
"Yes, sir."
I turned to my Padawan.
"Snips."
"Teacher?"
"Prepare for sub-zero operations."
She blinked.
I gave her outfit a deliberate once-over. Bare midriff. Exposed shoulders. Thin boots.
"You don't understand anything about clothes," she huffed.
"I am painfully aware," I replied evenly. "However, minus fifteen degrees tends to have opinions of its own. If you refuse proper gear, you remain aboard ship."
Her eyes widened in outrage.
"You wouldn't."
"Try me."
She crossed her arms, clearly offended—but already calculating thermal alternatives.
Good.
---
A few hours later, I was summoned back to the command center.
"Commander Kinaun is on the line," a clone operator reported.
The hologram shimmered to life.
"Good to see you intact, Commander," I greeted.
"And you, General. Fuel deliveries arrived on schedule. Lantilles appreciates it." He studied me. "Five Acclamators departed our sector—each carrying three regiments and one hundred fifty fighters. They're en route to your coordinates. Should I be concerned?"
"No immediate crisis," I replied. "We've been tasked with supporting an assault on Diado."
"With what total force?"
"My Legion plus the reinforcements. A portion will remain here as garrison."
Kinaun considered that.
"Do you require support?"
"Remain on standby," I said. "CIS numerical superiority hasn't vanished. If they counterattack while we're committed elsewhere…"
"I understand," he nodded. "Signal me if the situation deteriorates. I'll assist if possible."
"Appreciated."
He smiled faintly.
"By the way, General. You once requested material on fleet tactics. I've compiled an infocrystal—battle doctrines, formation theory, historical engagements. It will arrive with the convoy."
For a moment, I allowed genuine gratitude to show.
"Thank you, Commander. That will be… extremely useful."
The hologram flickered out.
I exhaled slowly.
Five Acclamators. Fifteen regiments of fresh clones. One hundred fifty additional fighters.
An icy industrial world controlled by the Trade Federation.
And a general I had never met.
The quiet days were over.