Commander Rinuan stood on the bridge of his Hailfire-class landing craft, his jaw clenched, hands gripping the edge of the command console, his face contorted with helpless fury.
Those Separatists! They slipped away again!
For the past week, small Confederate raiders had repeatedly struck Lantilles, the Fleet Sector Base, each time fleeing before a decisive counterattack could be mounted.
Lantilles was a vibrant, bustling world, a human homeworld that had dominated the midsection of the Perlemian Trade Route for millennia. All merchant ships traveling from Tannab to Coruscant passed through its ports.
Dozens of orbital space stations and shipyards encircled the planet, while hundreds of cargo vessels shuttled between its ports. Hundreds of trading, shipbuilding, and repair companies had taken root here. It was no accident that Lantilles had become the Fleet Sector Base.
On the very first day of the war, the Lantilles government, led by Tiberius Carnegie, had thrown its full support behind Chancellor Palpatine, opening its orbital shipyards to the Republic Navy and mobilizing all its armed forces.
This force was formidable, with the Randtilles Fleet alone boasting twenty-seven modified Dreadnought-class heavy cruisers.
As the dominant power in the Randtilles Sector and its surrounding seven sectors, they needed to maintain a strong fleet to protect trade routes and resist the increasingly assertive Trade Federation.
Of course, supporting the Republic also allowed them to use its strength to defend against Confederate attacks.
During the war, the Trade Federation, freed from Senate constraints, acted with growing impunity.
Such a strategically vital location naturally became a thorn in the side of the Confederacy of Independent Systems.
The Separatists typically operated in small groups of three to four Munificent-class frigates.
These vessels, originally designed as cash transports, were heavily armed by non-military standards, though their cannons were of poor quality. Their only notable feature was a pair of heavy turbolaser cannons.
Even so, they posed a significant threat to the Republic Navy's smaller vessels, especially unarmed transports.
The real trouble was the large number of Vulture droid fighters each escort ship carried. These unmanned drones specialized in attacking orbital platforms and small cargo ships, making them extremely difficult to deal with.
Just like now, four *Munificent*-class escort ships were in full retreat, followed by two *Hailfire*-class cruisers from Rinuan and two *Dreadnought*-class cruisers from Lantilles.
In just a few minutes, after retrieving their Vulture droids, they would activate their hyperspace engines and vanish.
This scenario had played out many times before, but this time, there were twenty interns from the Judicial Forces Officer Academy's accelerated program on his ship.
A group of newly commissioned Ensigns and Lieutenants had come aboard to familiarize themselves with the situation, only to have the enemy slip away right in front of these young officers—a humiliating disgrace.
"Commander! A large vessel has emerged from hyperspace!" the Clone Trooper operator's voice suddenly rang out.
Rinuan immediately leaned forward to stare at the observation panel, his eyes lighting up.
A Republic *Hailfire*-class amphibious assault ship had materialized directly in front of the Confederate escort ships, mere kilometers away!
"If only they had been prepared..."
The thought had barely crossed his mind when the Hailfire-class assault ship opened fire.
All turbolaser cannons and secondary guns erupted simultaneously, unleashing energy beams while multiple torpedoes hurtled toward the enemy ship.
The nearest Munificent-class frigate was struck by two torpedoes in quick succession. The violent explosions tore the vessel in two, its wreckage drifting slowly through space.
Behind the bridge, the interns erupted in excited cheers, sweeping away the previous tense atmosphere.
The remaining three frigates immediately activated their hyperspace engines to flee.
One was unlucky: a torpedo struck its engine bay mere milliseconds before it could enter hyperspace.
In such a situation, the explosion would likely hurl the ship back into normal space, where it might face the coronas of stars, asteroid fields, or even a direct collision with a planet—a grim fate.
An operator reported, "Commander, it's confirmed—the *Dingyuan*! General Viktor's flagship!"
Rinuan's tense face finally broke into a smile, his mood soaring from the depths.
"General Viktor requests a connection with you!"
"Connect him!" Rinuan ordered, his voice betraying his delight.
Solo's image appeared on the central observation screen, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. "It's a pleasure to see you, Commander! Looks like you're having quite a 'lively' time here, aren't you?"
"What brings the wind to such a backwater, General?" Rinuan replied in kind, glancing sideways to see the interns behind him staring wide-eyed at the screen, their jaws practically dropping. After all, they didn't get to witness such an exhilarating interception battle every day.
"The Force guides me," Solo replied vaguely, then his tone turned serious. "I'm here to meet the reinforcements, review the patrol schedules, and get acquainted with my colleagues."
Rinuan pondered for a moment before extending an invitation. "May I invite you to the Officers' Club tonight? I hope you're free."
"It would be my honor," Solo replied, spreading his hands with a hint of exasperation. "Though I'm afraid I don't have a suitable formal uniform..."
Rinuan imagined Solo in a lavish noble's uniform and nearly burst out laughing. "No need for that. Just wear your armor. It's wartime, and no one will mind."
"Sounds good!" Solo said with a chuckle. "That scene will be quite amusing."
"I look forward to your arrival," Rinuan nodded. The two exchanged salutes and ended the communication.
The Officers' Club in Lantilles was impressive just from its exterior.
Massive panoramic windows offered a stunning view of the city's glittering lights. The polished marble floor, reflecting the crystal chandeliers, complemented the rare wood furniture, exquisite leather accents, and intricate relief walls, all exuding luxury and sophistication.
Originally a two-story luxury restaurant, it had been "appropriated" by Commander Ilius Terben of the Twelfth Sector Legion, the Azure Spears, as the Officers' Club.
The ground floor, located 100 meters above ground in a skyscraper, was reserved for junior officers.
The second floor featured a massive transparent dome, exclusively for gatherings of senior officers.
Just like before the war, this was a gathering place for all members of the Republic Navy. Being able to enter here was considered a privilege that had to be earned.
Though not publicly advertised, most crucial strategic decisions, especially personnel transfers, were finalized in this informal setting, accompanied by fine wine and exquisite cuisine.
At that moment, the lower-level dining hall buzzed with excitement.
A group of newly commissioned ensigns and lieutenants were celebrating their official induction into the service, enthusiastically discussing the day's interception battle.
Those who hadn't witnessed it firsthand clustered around the participants, listening with reverence as they recounted the details.
The young officers were already slightly tipsy, their faces flushed with excitement.
At one table, a group of friends who had been inseparable since their first year at the Judicial Forces Officer Academy sat together.
"I still think it was a planned operation!" Lieutenant Su Melaj Lee Noriega shook her thick red hair, her tone resolute. "It couldn't have been a coincidence! The time from exiting hyperspace to firing was too short—even the turrets were pre-aimed at the enemy!"
"Come on, little girl!" Ensign Grace O'Connor retorted playfully. "If you say so, we'll believe you this time! But stop frowning so much—you'll ruin your beauty!"
Su Melaj glared at her, her voice tinged with exasperation. "Grace, this is why you're still an Ensign... Can't you take this seriously for once?"
Beside them, Ensign Zeltronian laughed heartily, her imposing figure stretching out. Her white hair and bronze skin formed a striking contrast, her uniform accentuating her curves to perfection.
"Girls, don't quarrel over such a trivial matter," Kristen Miro said, waving his glass of Salastian Wine with a careless air. "Let's have a toast to celebrate our victory today!"
"Kristen, you've had enough," Lichtendal Cherry said, frowning in reproach.
"Ungrateful bastard!" Kristen exclaimed dramatically, raising his hands. "Such words from my best friend..."
"You're right, my dear comrade," Lichtendal replied with a smile. "I indeed have no heart, just like all proper Atonians."
Su Melaj silently watched her friends bicker, knowing they would reconcile soon. The probability of that happening was a staggering 99.7%.
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