The gunboat took us straight to the Acclamator hangar, and on the way to the bridge, I indulged in painful reflections.
Let's sum it up. And the result is a complete disaster. 'You have invaluable experience'... Great! Who even came up with the idea of appointing Jedi as commanders? They'll rush into battle in the first seconds, waving their lightsabers—because that's all they know how to do—and the troops will lose control before they even realize what's happening! No, I know it's all Sidious's 'Cunning Plan,' but you still have to use your head! There are plenty of smart people on the Jedi Council, so surely someone had the brains to assess this soberly and realize the idea was idiotic? Or… are the alternatives even worse?
That last thought allowed me to calm down a little. In principle, it could well be true. Not only had the Jedi lost their form over a thousand years, but the rest of the Republic could hardly boast of experienced warriors either. Lone mercenaries, leaders of small detachments, captains of individual ships—that was about the modern limit. Perhaps some planetary armed forces still had a handful of seasoned veterans, but try to pry them out of their home turf on the eve of war… So maybe the benefits of the other options were not obvious enough, and the Chancellor was able to persuade the Order to take on its intended role. Yes… most likely.
Finally calming myself, I began to think about how to find a way out of the terrible situation I had gotten into.
So, what do we have. The Acclamator is seven hundred and fifty meters long, over four hundred wide, and about two hundred high. All in all, a fairly solid 'boat,' but… it's not a battleship. In essence, it's an armed transport, and its only real advantage over the Separatists' ships is that it was designed from the start as a military vessel. In the Confederacy, if I recall correctly, most of their fleet at the start of the war consisted of converted merchant ships. Even the Munificent-class star frigate are basically cash collection machines, built to fight pirates and smugglers, not to engage in fleet battles.
So, it turns out that when meeting an equivalent CIS ship, you get an equal exchange: I have a military vessel with appropriate architecture and materials, but transport, they have a civilian construction, also transport, but larger in size, respectively, with more fighters on board, and more guns crammed on the hull.
As for bonuses, I had a couple of Consular-class light cruiser, modernized at the Rotana shipyards. I'd only seen them briefly, but they looked decent enough. Still, a light cruiser is a light cruiser—just over a hundred meters long, with weapons far from intimidating in caliber. They're no match for a Munificent-class star frigate, over 800 meters long, not to mention the three-kilometer-long Lucrehulk-class core ship. In other words, my light cruisers were good only for hunting enemy fighters, something like destroyer-hunters. I won't deny they're extremely useful when facing overwhelming numbers of Separatist light forces, but they're of no help in serious clashes.
According to the info-crystal transmitted by the clone consultant—which I managed to glance at during the flight—I had forty LAAT gunships from the ground forces, twelve of which were transport variants designed to carry AT-TE tanks. I had exactly forty-eight of those, in two variants: one with a kinetic cannon, the other with a laser cannon as the main caliber.
The most tasty part, however, was thirty-six SPHA, which delighted me as if they were my own, since I'd already been impressed by their firepower on Geonosis. On top of that: two hundred speeder bikes and one hundred and twenty AT-RT light walkers.
In terms of infantry, four clone regiments under my command—nine thousand two hundred and sixteen troopers (!), plus support and auxiliary units of the legion: an engineering and sapper battalion, a repair battalion, a medical battalion, a tank regiment with walkers, and all the service units needed to support them. Add to that about forty crewmen for the light cruisers. And finally, forty-seven V-19 starfighters, designed as part of the clone army's equipment program.
In total, about seventeen thousand clones, counting ship crews. Enough to conquer a planet in the Outer Rim.
Let's just hope there aren't too many droids, and that the first battle goes smoothly.
***
When I entered the bridge, I found a gathering of commanders.
"Attention!" one of them barked.
Standing before me were rows of Jango Fett's copies in armor marked with insignia (note to self: study the insignia) and a captain in a grayish uniform similar to those worn by naval officers in the animated series.
"At ease," I said. I'm not a complete idiot; I understand at least some aspects of army life, even if only from movies. "Let's get acquainted. I am General Mikore Vikt, Jedi Knight. And this—" I nodded—"is Ahsoka Tano, my Padawan."
"I am Ntor Ragnos, captain of the ship TR-678," introduced the Zabrak.
"Commander Blam, First Regiment, Thirteenth Legion."
"Commander Enok, Second Regiment, Thirteenth Legion."
"Commander H, Third Regiment, Thirteenth Legion."
"Commander Zilo, Fourth Regiment, Thirteenth Legion."
"Commander Turn, Tank Regiment, Thirteenth Legion."
"Commander Erd, heavy fire support," the clones said in rapid succession, standing at attention. At the same time, they enlightened me about the legion's number. Thirteen, huh…
"Excellent. Are you familiar with the mission?"
"Yes, sir."
"When will loading be complete?"
"In two hours, General."
"And the light cruisers?"
"Waiting in orbit, sir."
"Good. Before we begin discussing the operation, I want to clarify a few things. First of all, I'm interested in what you were taught on Kamino, and what tactical tasks the fighters are strongest at. The strengths and weaknesses of the equipment assigned to us, from your perspective. The capabilities of our ships, and so forth. Who will start?"
Judging by the clones' faces—and the echoes of their emotions in the Force—they hadn't expected such an approach. The captain was more reserved. Ahsoka, however, took everything for granted.
"May I?" Noticing his colleagues' hesitation, the Zabrak captain spoke first.
I nodded.
"Then I'll start with this ship. The Acclamator-class military assault ship. Armed with twelve quad light turbolasers and twenty-four light laser cannons. In addition, four missile-torpedo launchers. Total ammunition: sixteen proton torpedoes and sixteen anti-ship missiles. It carries up to eighty small craft, forty-seven of which are currently V-19 light short-range fighters…"
The lecture was very detailed. In particular, I soon learned that light cruisers were indeed practically useless in fleet battles: four light turbolasers and six medium rapid-fire cannons made them dangerous only to enemy swarms. However, as it turned out, they were excellent supply ships, with a hold capacity of six thousand metric tons.
For comparison, the Acclamator could carry eleven thousand two hundred and fifty tons, despite being six times larger. But the light cruisers had no hangars, which meant all our light forces were concentrated exclusively on the flagship—a dangerous vulnerability. If it were destroyed, there'd be no chance of retreating with even part of the starfighters intact, even if both light cruisers survived. Nothing I could do about that.
The clones' equipment also became clearer. While the captain spoke of ships, the others gathered their thoughts and dumped so much detail on me I could barely digest it. Jango's clones had no real combat experience outside Kamino's training grounds, but all six of these were "straight-A students." For that, they'd been granted names by their instructors. They knew their stuff. But how well did I understand it…?
I'd need to sort everything in my head, but I wasn't planning to devise strategies on my own. For now, I'd act on an ancient principle: the task is defined; subordinates, from junior to senior, express their opinions, argue, make suggestions; then I choose the best option offered. Hopefully, I'll be able to pick the most reasonable.
Wait. A thought flashed through my mind. Something needs to be done—right now.
"Captain, what did you say this ship is called?"
"TR-678, sir," the Zabrak repeated.
"That's not right. A ship must have a name."
Hmm. What should I call it? Enterprise? Missouri? Executor? Pink Hutt? A vague name stirred in my memory. Oh yes—that would do perfectly.
"Captain, do I have the authority to rename the ship?" I asked quickly, before acting on impulse.
The officer thought for a moment, then nodded.
"I believe so, sir. Nothing in my instructions forbids it."
"Then from this moment, it shall be called Marat." I think the name of a heroic battleship is just right.
"Yes, sir," the captain answered, surprise flickering in his voice. "And… what is 'Marat'?"
"There was once such a ship, long ago. It took part in the defense of a planet, preventing enemy landing craft from reaching it. Even after losing propulsion and half its hull to endless bomber strikes, it kept fighting—and in the end, the enemy failed to capture the planet."
"Sounds good," the Zabrak shrugged, clearly impressed. "I've never heard that story, General."
"Much has been forgotten over time, Captain. Many useful and important things…" Once again, I drifted into philosophy.