Star Wars: From the Clone Wars to Starfaring Heroes

Chapter 105, Section 106 - Bray?

Two “Consignor-class” interstellar dreadnoughts leaped out of hyperspace, looming over the Kolmex system with an oppressive presence.

Paris felt a chill run down her spine and up to her head, making her feel cold all over.

The dazzling pseudo-motion light from the hyperspace jump had barely faded from her sight when a chilling, bone-deep silence instantly gripped her.

The silence was so heavy it was suffocating.

Something is very, very wrong.

She subconsciously glanced quickly at the tactical robot Little Tower beside her, but its metallic face remained unchanged, showing no emotion whatsoever.

"Plan the route to intercept the Dreadnoughts," Little Tower commanded, his voice calm and even. "At the same time, notify the Nadorin Task Force that we have arrived at the battlefield."

Dreadnought.

The word echoed heavily in Barris's mind.

Her gaze was fixed on the distance, on a towering steel island, motionless amidst the deadly waves of missile explosions and laser beams.

Instead of retreating, each barrage of artillery fire struck Paris's senses like an invisible hammer.

What followed was the agonizing screams of countless fallen soldiers piercing her ears, the chilling touch of death seemingly spreading through her veins.

Her stomach was aching slightly.

Jedi Healer's instincts drove her to the very front of the bridge, her palm outstretched and pressed tightly against the cold, transparent steel observation window.

Every nerve in her body was screaming; her years of training, the responsibilities she bore, all seemed to point to this moment.

Paris knows where her talent lies.

Strong empathy is the core of becoming an excellent Jedi healer.

She should have borne the pain of others and responded with comfort and healing.

But here, facing this boundless ocean of slaughter, she could offer no solace... She only felt an unprecedented sense of powerlessness.

The Flame Messenger navigated through the floating metal wreckage, its hull occasionally emitting a sickening metallic twisting sound.

Each collision was accompanied by a surge of excruciating pain that crashed against her consciousness like a tidal wave.

The Force seemed to be trying to convey some message to Barris, but she was too exhausted.

I feel deeply weary of war, of death, of everything.

As a result, it became impossible to use the meditation techniques taught by Luminara to clearly perceive what it was.

Moreover, she felt she didn't need to know, as she had already seen through the true nature of this war.

Loyalists are slaughtering separatists, and separatists are slaughtering loyalists.

This is a mass slaughter of humanity across the entire galaxy, and the reasons behind it seem so pale at this moment.

As a Jedi, she could only watch helplessly.

As the vortex of battle drew ever closer, and it became clear that the "Flame Messenger" would soon be drawn into it, becoming part of this killing machine.

Paris was filled with resistance.

She is a Jedi.

She shouldn't have participated in this massacre.

However, as the Flame Messenger ventured deeper into the battlefield, the Jedi aura that once represented warmth and protection within the temple now clearly permeated the surroundings.

They have been transformed into sharp swords that led the Republic into war.

Jedi Master.

She could sense that there was a Jedi on the cruiser's bridge.

They watched the battlefield expressionlessly, calmly directing thousands of lives to their end. 'You're killing living, breathing people!' Paris nearly screamed, 'not cold robots! Can't you feel it?'

Master Luminara always taught her to seek peace, to abandon emotions, and to connect more deeply with the Force.

But at this moment, Paris couldn't help but feel a deep sense of doubt.

Is this the kind of peace that the Jedi seeks?
The Force once again struck her heart like a tightly shut, heavy iron door.

The Flame Messenger continued deeper into the airspace where wreckage floated, and an ominous, bile-like unease grew stronger.

The bow pushed aside the floating steel debris.

Whatever just happened here... it was extremely tragic and swift, tearing a rift filled with endless hatred through the life force.

This is a wound that has not yet healed, continuing to fester due to the lingering, intense negative emotions of the deceased.

We are sailing on a vast graveyard.

Paris has become numb.

"'Flame Messenger,' this is 'Crumplinz,'" a slightly trembling voice came through the communicator. "This is Admiral Greshad. Have the 'interception mines' we requested been delivered?"

“Delivered,” Little Tower responded immediately. “Our current course is pointing toward the port side of the Dreadnought. Requesting further instructions.”

“Very good…” Greshard’s rapid breathing came through the communication. The signal was interrupted for about two minutes before it was reconnected. “Execute according to the original plan. Lock onto the target, follow our guidance signal, and concentrate the shield energy on the starboard side. You must force your way through a zone of fire.”

Despite the dizziness from her headache, Paris staggered toward the nearest tactical information console.

She grabbed the metal shoulder of the robot and stared intently at the holographic star map.

Despite her splitting headache, the star chart's visual representation finally allowed her to piece together a relatively clear outline of the chaotic situation of this grand battle in her mind.

The battle lines are distributed in a sloping diagonal pattern.

The Republic's right-wing fleet is furthest from the planet Kolumex, while the left wing is closest to the massive defensive turret arrays in the planet's orbit.

The Republic has two "Commissioner-class" interstellar dreadnoughts. The one in the distance is being fiercely attacked by a fleet with a familiar designation; it is the "White Hand Fleet" fighting a bloody battle.

A complex and indescribable emotion surged in Paris's chest, but she no longer had the energy to discern it.

The key lies in the dreadnought nearby.

It is leading the Republic's "White Breastplate Fleet" and charging menacingly toward the planet Kolumex.

The navigation robot completely ignored her presence, focusing intently on calculating the Dreadnought's motion vector in order to plan a new engagement route for the "Unicorn Squadron".

A dotted line was projected, extending from the bow of the dreadnought and pointing directly at the orbital defense facilities of the planet Kolumex.

“The ‘Founder’s Legacy’ is too large to effectively evade the orbital turret’s fire,” Little Tower explained in his distinctive mechanical tone. “For such a prominent target, their only tactical option is to close the engagement distance as quickly as possible, which means they have no other choice but to expose themselves to great risk.”

As if to confirm Xiaota's analysis, the huge ion engine nozzle of the "Founder's Legacy" was fully exposed to the view.

There are two other clearly identifiable signal sources on the star chart.

The first one is the "Crumplinz", the very different-styled battlecruiser Theonis.

Its mirror-like armor reflected a strange light amidst the barrage of red, green, and blue laser beams, displaying an almost eerie elegance in the raging flames of war.

It was maneuvering nimbly on the edge of the dreadnought's blind spot, its stern narrowly missing the battleship "Hexenkonig".

Meanwhile, the Hexenconig, along with the other warships of the Nadolin Task Force, was stubbornly resisting the fierce attack of the White Breastplate Fleet.

The planned route of the "Unicorn Squadron" gradually took shape on the holographic star map.

They will advance along the edge of the Founder Legacy's fire coverage area, and before reaching the relatively safe airspace behind the orbital defense turrets, they will deploy the gravity intercept mines they carry.

"Are we... going to Bray?" Paris couldn't help but ask, her voice a little hoarse.

“No, we’re going to lay minefields for our reinforcement fleet,” Little Tower answered matter-of-factly, as if it were the most natural task in the galaxy.

Ok?
Paris was stunned. What kind of trick was this now?
(End of this chapter)