A Life at War: Twilight-Chapter 29: Home Front

A Life at War: Twilight-Chapter 29: Home Front

The ride back to the Negotiator had been tense. The Clones didn’t seem to know how to feel about the sentence. When we landed on the Negotiator I walked to the bridge to hand in my , which was thankfully short. One casualty, to be incinerated and returned to the stars and a trial where I followed protocol to the best of my ability and a recording of the trial alongside the witness’ testimonial of the execution.
I hand in the honestly rough to Yularen and ask to be dismissed to my ship. He acquiesces and I let the LAAT return me to her. The ammunition disposal is thankfully complete and the casualty is in. No losses on the Little Revenge, six cases of severe heatstroke, fifty six cases of severe dehydration from some Mon Calamari and Quarren crew and three hundred cases of mild heatstroke the only sapient cost of my mistake.
Five arms-men had died in the escape pod clearing, one clone of Hope company dead on the surface. No ships lost within the 97
th
. Three lost from the task-force, two Consulars and the Arquitens. I receive the order to return to base a couple hours later. Grievous had managed to escape by the skin of his missing teeth. Apparently Skywalker had even managed to get a couple shots off on his shuttle, but had to take evasive action after a rocket was fired at him.
The administrative part was next. I had signed over as much re-compensation to the Lawquaines as I could legally be permitted to. It would be personally handed over by the local administrator within the month after being redrawn from the local Republic accounts with the Banking Clans. It seemed the least I could do for the inconvenience.
I stand over the bridge, grim face set as we jump to hyperspace. I don’t think I would very much enjoy seeing this world again.
I was worried. New legislation had just passed the Senate. It wasn’t anything anyone outside of the former Judicial Forces would notice. It was unsettling, an amendment to Part 312 of Republic Military conduct, falling under the punishments and crimes section. It had been passed with the amendment in a rump Senate during what was supposed to be a session on new propaganda to be used by the Senate Intelligence Bureau.
Part 312 paragraph Besh was the location of the new protocols, but the amendment was tacked on with sub-paragraph sixteen dash seven. It was on traitors to the Republic and anti-republic agitators. It was a loose wording. So loose it could easily apply to anyone and everyone. Be they pro Separatist, pro Republic, anti-Palpatine, pacifist, anti-SIB, or even just someone who mentions disliking the Republic’s corruption in a bar.
The protocols for dealing with such agitators was anywhere from an hour in the drunk tank to an immediate execution depending on severity. Severity as determined by the highest ranking military officer on scene and later reviewed by a panel of the accused peers and betters. That could honestly be pretty much anybody.
General Solomahal was right. If this kept up the Republic would descend into a police state supported by jingoists, xenophobes and the power hungry in the military. I need to comm him soon, he should know what to do next. I hated waiting in the wings for this.
Dac was very much more enjoyable compared to the previous turmoil over Saleucami. The Little Revenge was embraced fully in drydock, repairs internally and the upgraded hyperdrive forcing the majority of the crew, except for maybe a hundred engineers and technicians, out of the ship. I had specifically asked however to keep the scorched armor panels as long as they did not disadvantage her capabilities. This left roughly half of the armor blackened with soot.
While crew of the Little Revenge were enjoying their shore leave I was working on another paper and my on the R-41s performance for her battlefield trials. Though my thoughts kept drifting to the recent legislation from the Senate, I had been spurred on by Admiral Yularen’s request. The primary issue with the boarding AT-TE was the reduced firepower that came with the removal of the mass driver cannon. On the one hand the cannon took up valuable space internally through the ammunition. On the other hand heavy support could blow holes into the ships armor externally and in larger ships even be used to secure hangar bays and internal rail networks.
However if the troops used the AT-TE as a bunker on the surface and used laser-cutters to make their own entrances it would negate many of the usual choke-points around docking hatches and hangars. It would still rely on rapid maneuvers and fighter supremacy and numbers to ensure success, so any effectiveness would only be possible with a competent and at not risk averse commanding officer. What I want is to conduct a test run within the 97
th
before sending the prototype’s blueprints to Yularen. However without General Koth’s ship and equipment that would not be happening.
And hadn’t that been a blow to the gut. I stop writing to pace again at the very thought. High command had karking temporarily revoked General Koth’s command of the area! Worse yet they had yet to send me any reinforcements! In fact they hadn’t even replaced the ships General Koth had been sent with when they had been ambushed at Arda.
They had karking taken my hope for reinforcements and more advances and convoy raids and put them all into a ration bar blender. They had destroyed my current chances of a stable situation for the North-Eastern Slice I was supposed to protect and not only destroyed any momentum built up from Saleucami, but also ordered a halt to any potential advances until a new General could be sent to replace General Koth or send General Koth after he has been fully healed, whichever came first. Not even counter attacks had been permitted!
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please the violation.
I was being told that if a Separatist fleet routed any force from Toong’l, Baros or Munto Codru I was forbidden from retaking the territory. If they attacked Toong’l I would be unable to ensure the locals remained free! If they attacked Baros any future ships from Dac would be for Dac and not the greater war effort! If they fucking attacked Munto Codru, I would be forced to abandon any supplies in system. Never mind the other half dozen worlds whose local planetary defense forces could barely hold off a frigate, that were essentially under my unit’s protection. I grab an empty bottle of whiskey and smash it against the door of my temporary quarters.
I take a deep breath to try and calm myself. At the very least my request to keep the neutrality of Drongar had been approved. Though I think it was to ensure I didn’t have any agency to move my squadron from already approved orders.
I needed to calm myself. Calm myself and plan.
-Three weeks earlier C.R.C. 7956-
Elix meanders through the streets of Fondor. The entire world was always on rations. It was a necessity of the climate and the industry. Well, not quite always. When the world had been settled some twenty thousand years ago she had many plains of grass, forests of trees, real wooden trees, and rivers and oceans of water. All of it had been sacrificed in the name of industry.
Smog had choked the sky and the rivers and oceans had been drunk up by the people, the thousands, then millions, then billions of settlers and finally tens of billions who called the world home made sure of that. The forests had been eaten away for fuel and early buildings and the grasses had been burned to mine the minerals and pump the fuels of the world.
The early settlers’ descendants, the landowners not the shipyard masters, had eventually decided to try and rebuild the ecosystem, by shunting billions to the colonies and expansion region. The wars of dominance within the core and colonies had ruined the first attempted conservation and reclamation efforts and killed off most of the political influence of those who had championed land reclemation and restoration alongside some ten billion sentients. So the world suffered emigration to worlds where the pollution and sandstorms didn’t choke lungs and the food was so expensive as to ruin people.
The shipyards payed poorly at first and the workers, be they recent migrants or descendants of the first colonists rioted. When they were suppressed, by hired mercenaries, gangsters and scabs, they formed syndicates and unions and waited for generations. Finally during the Sith Wars they rioted and started the First Grand Strike.
The Old Republic didn’t want to risk the war effort and demanded the Shipyards pay the people a fair wage to do with as they saw fit. The syndicates and unions had fallen to the wayside now, but every Fondorian who wasn’t a posh shipyard owning shareholder had an ancestor who had died for the rations and the pay. So Fondor, the community, did always have rations.
Thraken had helped Elix find his ancestors who had died in the riots and told him the story of the Dericote’s involvement as syndicate goons during a long and boring trip between Yag’Dhul and Fondor bringing in a shipment of new rations after they had finished fixing the old C-ROC Gazonti.
And now they had been cut. Elix tapped his holster while approaching the middle class apartment of his family in all but name. He slammed his fist against the door and waited. The light went on and he walked away to a local bar. He ordered a beer and waited, watching as a patrol of B1s marched through the streets.
He chugged down the piss poor beer and ordered a bottle of hard liquor. He tipped the barkeep and moved back to his friend’s family home. He didn’t bother knocking and simply opened the door and closed it behind him.
“Elix.” He hears Mr. Dericote say.
“Major.” He replies.
“How often have I told ya to call me Owen?”
“Too often, here’s the next cocktail.” He says handing Owen the full bottle. He takes it pops the cork and moves to the kitchen, Elix following.
“The Techno Union is clamping down on us in the Defense Force. they’ve fired six more officers in the administration and replaced them with Skakoans and hardliners. Only reason they haven’t fired me yet, is because of my marriage, heritage and because they need someone with logistical competence and the experience to run the department without complainin’ about doin’ it without the titles and pay.” he says as he pulls a couple bottles and a rag from under the sink.
“They’ve fully cut the merchant’s rations. Only a single meal for every seven days we’re on surface. Also cut the rations for the barkeeps, restaurateurs, jobless and all of the civilian ship pipeline workers in half. I’m pretty sure it’s to try an’ increase the number of shipments to Fondor and force the others to reapply to the military pipeline, but all it’s doin’ is making more of us go smuggler or get off world. Major, I’ve had thirty passengers alongside my shipments last week.” Elix replies.
“Damn, heard about the barkeeps and restaurateurs, but not the others. Also call me Owen, son.” The older man says. A couple more bottles are opened and their contents are mixed. A thermal detonator lies open with half of its jelly already in the other bottles.
“Saw Thraken on Corellia.” Elix says as the Major pours half of the liquor into an empty bottle.
“How is he? Wait how’d ya both get through CorSec’s self imposed bloackade?” The older man asks, his voice hopeful and his hands steady.
“Doing well, got promoted to Commodore. They’re letting supply convoys through long as they pay an extra toll. As for me … doesn’t matter, I’m setting up a way for you and Thraken to talk.”
“Good, how much are you charging us.”
“You guys? Nothing. Couldn’t stand doing that to you and Naomi. Thraken however, he owes me a hundred grand.” Elix smirks at the thought.
“I’m sure he’ll get you drunk and you’ll wave it away once we get the adoption sorted.”
Elix sputters at that while Owen chuckles.
“I already told you. I don’t want you to do that! The fees alone ...”
“Would be worth it! Maker knows Thraken won’t give us grandkids anytime soon and we’ve been trying to get you or Alice into the family for ages. It’ll be a two for one deal then. When are you proposing to her anyway?”
Elix rubs the back of his neck while looking to the side, failing miserably at hiding his blush: “You know she’ll only take me when I go legit.”
“So you’re off again.”
“Yeah.” Elix says with a sigh.
“Ya know if you’re so uncomfortable with the adoption, maybe we should get Hugo to propose to ya?” Owen prods.
“YOU WOULDN’T!” Elix shrieks in horror.
“Nah, come off it.” He chuckles to himself.
“I remember when you tried setting him up with me. Maker knows that I was not, I repeat for ya old ass ears, not pleased. Nine Hells Thraken found me drunk in a ditch after that accursed blind date. Last time I take a reservation to a restaurant you offer me.” Elix says, stuffing a rag into an explosives laced bottle.
“Now, in my defense, that was not my idea.” Owen defends himself.
A new voice joins the two men: “You know if I was a fuckin’ B1 I wouldn’t need to strain my shitty ass receptors to hear you two yappin’. Get those explosives out of the kitchen and Owen, stop talking smack to Elix, he won’t want the damn adoption you lovable fool if he’s upset at ya.”
“Thank you Naomi, but I don’t want it either way.” Elix interrupts the matriarch’s rant.
Mrs. Dericote turns her head to her fool of a second son in all but name: “Of course dear, now my husband will make us dinner while I talk to the old and stupid geezers in charge of the fukin’ syndicates and organize a damn protest already. Be a dear and set the damn table, we should have a spare ration for ya.”
“I didn’t want to bother you.” Elix protests as Owen puts away the bottles and returns with a couple cans of food.
“Oh hush, son,” Owen says, “Maker knows Thraken never ate all his rations while he was younger and he certainly didn’t when he was in his teens. I think we’d have enough food to feed thirty people for a week in the pantry thanks to our foolish boy.”
“Alright, sir.”
“Call me Owen, son.”
“No, Major.”

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Chapter 29: Home Front