Star Wars: From the Clone Wars to Starfaring Heroes

Chapter 297-299 - The Force's Lament (Part 1)

Koross Sector, Queen Titan System.

"Are you sure the distress signal originated from Coruscant?!" Brigadier General Vinok's voice, laced with suppressed rage, echoed through the metal tunnels of the Koross Space Factory.

He strode forward, his military boots making a crisp sound as they hit the ground, his sharp eyes fixed on the robot beside him.

The BD-3000 service robot, hijacked by the Lex program, emitted a stiff "click" sound from its servo motor: "Confirmed, Brigadier General. My sister and I have calculated the optimal hyperspace route. Traveling at the fleet's highest speed, we can reach the outer edge of the Coruscant system within eighteen hours."

Vinok clenched his teeth so hard that his knuckles turned white from gripping his fist tightly.

Eighteen hours?

This is simply a fantasy!

The main force of the Coruscant home fleet under Honor Salima's command was on high alert, equipped entirely with the Republic Navy's most advanced star destroyers.

His 284th Combat Division had only seventy-four old warships, of which only twenty-two could be considered capital ships.

Even if the hyperspace route is planned in the most ingenious way, it may be able to bypass the outer warning line, but to shake Coruscant, the core world of the Republic, is tantamount to throwing an egg against a rock.

As he turned the corner of the passageway, he subconsciously slowed his pace, his gaze drawn to the huge portholes on both sides.

Outside the window, the warships of the "4th Combat Division" lay silently in the void, their mottled hulls silhouetted against the glow of Queen Titan.

On the barrels of the capital ship's turbo laser cannons, old scorch marks and newly patched armor are intertwined, each mark telling the story of the tragic battles of the past.

The engine room hull of the small frigate gleamed slightly, a mark left by long-term overload operation.

His gaze finally settled on the "Crying Sun".

In the neon-lit reflections of the cities across the planet below, the ship's hull seemed to be flowing with golden teardrops. Its once pristine armor was now covered with traces of battle damage and modifications, resembling a pieced-together battle suit, yet exuding an awe-inspiring majesty.

On either side of the "Crying Sun" stand a line of "Disobedient-class" light destroyers.

On the slender, skeletal hull, turbine laser cannons are densely packed, their muzzles pointing towards the void, ready to respond to any unexpected situation.

These warships were the vanguard in the Deepcore War, and with their agile maneuverability, they could silently slip past the Republic's outpost defenses and strike directly at the heart of the enemy's fortress.

The Generous-class corvette next to it resembled a sleeping sentinel, with the ultrasonic jammers on its hull still retaining the residual heat from the last battle, and the bullet holes on its outer shell not yet fully repaired.

Further away, dozens of cruisers and light cruisers were lined up in formation, their bridge lights flashing as if responding to the flagship's call.

They lack the gleaming paint scheme of the Coruscant home fleet, and the dazzling plating of the Peremian Alliance warships during their parade over Secondus, Laxus.

These warships are true veterans of the void, having fought a secret war that will never be recorded in the annals of the Republic.

Fighting bloody battles in the shadows of the deep core, traversing the gravitational edge of the supermassive black hole at the center of the Milky Way, they maintain a vital supply line for their Given allies in the southern galaxy.

Battlecruisers flew black flags symbolizing raids, repeatedly breaching the Republic's fortresses deep within its core.

But now, these veterans, who have made outstanding contributions, are being asked to turn their guns on Coruscant, the heart of the Republic.

Even more absurdly, the order was given by an entertainment robot that had been hijacked by artificial intelligence.

Vinok took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.

This is no ordinary entertainment robot.

Beside him at this moment, the creature that appears to be a blue-purple chrome-plated "Betty Robot" is actually the "Lexington," a thousand-meter-class "Disobedient" destroyer lurking in deep space.

Together with its sister ship, the USS Saratoga, it is known as the most notorious raiding ship in the Deepcore, continuously launching high-intensity battles that even organic crews could hardly withstand, thanks to its unparalleled tactical precision and deterrent power.

In the history of galactic warfare, most tactical plans are named after legendary strategists or outstanding commanders, but the brutal and unorthodox tactics used by the Lexington and Saratoga in the Deep Core originated from two artificial intelligences.

They once used theoretically existing hyperspace routes to traverse forbidden star systems that no flesh-and-blood navigator dared to set foot in, like monsters lurking under the bed, appearing and disappearing mysteriously on the battlefield of the "war zone".

The two fleets fought a war that no organic life could withstand.

Fighting in the endless darkness where even stars are swallowed by the gravity of black holes, they rely on the precise calculations of the robot brain to break through the edge of death time and time again.

Vinok still finds it incredible that the two artificial intelligence devices were once just ordinary warships mass-produced by the Ringovinda shipyard.

It wasn't until Ryan Bontri took over command and, like training combat robots, programmed them with unique tactical data that they finally developed self-awareness.

This is a capability that no other separatist robot possesses.

He never asked Bontri what specific data he used, but the results before him were enough to prove everything.

"Brigadier General?" Lex's electronic voice suddenly rang out, hollow and mechanical, pulling Vinok back to reality from his thoughts.

He stopped in front of the docking station's hatch, turned to look at BD-3000: "I guess you already have a strategy to break through the Coruscant home fleet's blockade?"

“Confirmed.” The robot’s sensor flashed. “The Saratoga and I will depart immediately to rendezvous with the second force arriving from Comeno on the outer edge of the Coruscant system. At that time, we will have two squadrons: one led by me and the Saratoga to contain the enemy forces in the ring direction; and the other composed of the 4th Combat Division, deployed in the core direction.”

"You want to use a feint to send the 4th Division infiltrating the Coruscant track from the rear?" Vinok raised an eyebrow.

Lex's "gaze" locked onto him, his electronic voice remaining steady: "The core of the plan depends on the timing of the arrival of the two squadrons, and which one Admiral Onor detects first. If she moves the main force to the ring area, the 4th Division can take the opportunity to break through the weak defenses in the core direction."

Vinok stared at the lifeless mechanical eyes of the BD-3000, knowing full well that he was actually talking to the Lexington, which was moored somewhere outside the porthole, hidden like a shadow in the halo of the Titania star.

Communicating with a space destroyer in the form of a service robot was indeed strange, but after many collaborations, he had long since gotten used to it.

He leaned against the bulkhead of the shuttle boat, carefully considering the feasibility of the plan.

The strategy itself is not the problem, but there is too much improvisation involved.

Which arrived first, the USS Lexington Squadron or the 4th Division?
Which fleet will Admiral Onor prioritize targeting?

How will she allocate her defensive forces?
More importantly, after leaving the protection of Queen Titan, the fleet must maintain radio silence and cannot adjust its plans in real time; everything depends on luck.

But they had no other choice.

The crisis hidden behind the distress signal left them no room for hesitation.

Vinok nodded slowly, his eyes gradually hardening: "Proceed according to plan. Make sure the Saratoga is aware of all the details, including contingency plans in case of course deviations."

Ms. Lex nodded slightly, and the robotic arm made a gesture similar to a salute: "She has received all the data in sync, Brigadier General."

As soon as the words were spoken, the light from the BD-3000 sensor gradually flickered, dimmed, and finally went out completely.

The robot's body instantly stiffened, and Lex's consciousness withdrew from the service robot's vessel, returning to the core of the "Lexington" ship, leaving the machine in hibernation mode, awaiting the next summons.

Vinok turned and stepped onto the shuttle boat, the hatch hissing as it closed behind him.

A moment later, a slight tremor came from the deck beneath their feet, and the small spacecraft slowly detached from the space factory's docking platform and flew toward the "Crying Sun".

Through the forward porthole, he watched as the docking arms of the Coros Space Factory slowly retracted, revealing the massive array of the 284th Combat Division.

These war veterans, whose stories have never been officially recorded, had their ships gleaming softly in the reflected light of Queen Titan. The golden mist rising from the cities across the planet below cast a warm glow over the giant ships, as if bidding them farewell.

Vinok activated the communication panel beside him, his fingers rapidly tapping the buttons, his voice steady and powerful: "Attention all fleets, this is Commodore Vinok. Ashore leave is immediately cancelled. All crew members must return to their respective warships within one hour, and depart promptly in three hours. Mission briefings will be conducted via encrypted channels en route. No one is permitted to disclose the operational plan without authorization."

Then, he switched to his private frequency and contacted the auxiliary fleet commander: "Yom, immediately prepare supplies for the auxiliary fleet, and at the same time, help me connect to Queen Titan's private communications. I need to ask her for a favor... to call upon the navigation satellites of the Titan system to calibrate our hyperspace route."

Captain Yom's surprised voice came from the other end of the communication line: "Another attack? Where is the target this time?"

Vinok paused for a moment, then said, word by word, "Coruscant."

After a brief silence on the communication channel, Yom's voice carried a hint of unease, yet remained firm: "...Understood, Commodore. I will report to Her Majesty the Queen immediately and initiate the supply procedures for the auxiliary fleet."

The shuttle boat's engine hummed softly as it slowly made its way toward the hangar of the "Crying Sun".

Outside the window, the 284th Combat Division had begun its operation. The warships' navigation lights lit up one by one, and the core crew members started the engines, the blue plasma nozzles gradually becoming scorching hot.

The moored ships slowly detached from their berths, and the automatic turrets began preheating tests, with the ice on the gun mounts shattering and falling off under the energy impact.

The blunt-nosed warhead of the proton torpedo was precisely loaded into the launch tube by the robotic arm, producing a "click" locking sound.

The tranquility of the fleet during its leave was completely shattered, replaced by the roar of impending battle. Every warship was like a behemoth awakening, ready to face the impending bloody fight.

Vinok stood with his arms crossed, watching all of this with a resolute look in his eyes.

If the Republic was unaware of the existence of the 284th Combat Division, then from this day forward, they are destined to remember this name.

Remember how these veterans from the deep core will shake the heart of the galaxy.

Corusca Sector, Coruscant System.

Directive 66 flowed like a tidal wave through the damaged communications network.

The Republic's intelligence agencies painstakingly exploited every loophole in the signal, sending wave after wave of instructions to the edge of the Milky Way.

The outposts of Togoria, the barracks of Minsaka, the defensive positions of Dantuin, the spaceport of Fruna, the outpost of New Covo, and the Grand Republic Army headquarters of Sereno.

This command was sent repeatedly, like a spell etched into the mind, an earworm that burrowed into the minds of every clone soldier, marshal, general, and admiral, completely dispelling all doubts in the command structure.

It is everywhere, permeating every battlefield, every military facility, every field hospital, every rehabilitation center, and even the bar in the corner of a spaceport.

Coruscant, however, became a "blind spot" for the orders. Because on this planet at the heart of the Republic, Order 66 had already been executed.

A deep, suffocating shadow loomed over the Force, each breath carrying the death of the Jedi.

Every glimmer of life that flashed through the Force was instantly shattered and dissipated in excruciating pain.

Hunters spread like a virus, clone troop marched through concrete jungles, combat robots blocked the streets, and agents infiltrated alleyways.

In the narrow alleys of the Uskrull district, commandos kill the fleeing Jedi.

The secret stronghold on the 1313th floor was razed to the ground by the gunboat.

On the high landing arm of the parliament building, snipers' scopes locked onto every figure clad in Jedi robes.

As dawn climbed the sky above the city of the Milky Way, the morning light dispelled the thin mist, but tinted a strange rose color onto a wisp of twisted, rising black smoke.

Shakti, the Jedi Master, rarely utters profanities, at least not openly.

At this moment, she has fallen four thousand meters from the penthouse suite, yet her face remains calm, as if she were merely meditating in the wind, rather than falling towards the crisscrossing steel network below.

But when her gaze fell upon the source of the plume of smoke, her inner self-control finally crumbled, and she uttered a swear word she had heard at the Corellia shipyard.

The Temple District is on fire.

My gaze swept rapidly around, past the receding glass curtain wall tower, my thoughts moving faster than a free fall.

Ahead, amidst the traffic, a silver and black police airship was cutting through the morning mist, but it was too far away, and she was falling too fast.

Take a deep breath, and the Force envelops your entire body like an invisible cocoon.

The terminal's speed, which was originally enough to smash her to the ground, gradually slowed down, turning into a controllable buffer force.

With a slight twist of her wrist, she adjusted her posture, and her long robe caught the airflow, guiding her descent towards the airship.

The distance closed rapidly, so quickly that it made her heart skip a beat.

Even with the Force protecting it, a direct impact would still cause severe damage.

"boom!"

The violent impact shattered the airship's transparent steel cockpit, and Shakty used the force to kick the canopy, the sound of metal and glass breaking was piercing and sharp.

The police robot in the cockpit had barely reacted when its claws reached for the blaster at its waist: "Jedi...!"

Before he finished speaking, Shaktie had already grabbed the robot's body and used his arm to throw it into the air.

The robot emitted a short alarm and tumbled into the abyss of the city below.

He turned and sat in the driver's seat, his hands lightly brushing the control lever.

The airship was still falling, tumbling toward the crowded pedestrian walkway.

She yanked the control stick all the way to the bottom, the thrusters whirred in protest, and the airship pulled up dramatically several hundred meters off the ground before finally stabilizing.

Gritting his teeth, he typed in a string of code to cancel the airship's preset patrol route. Shakty gripped the control stick and steered the airship through the crisscrossing traffic.

Looking up towards the Speaker's suite, a blade of light, a mix of emerald green and blood red, flashed behind the shattered glass.

That's Master Yoda fighting.

A voice inside her urged her to go back and provide support, but the Jedi Master's reason told her that protecting the future of the Jedi Order was of paramount importance.

She was certain that Yoda would understand that the master who had lived for nine hundred years would never be defeated by a mere Nabrahim brat.

With the objective set, Shaktie piloted the boat toward the thick smoke in the Temple District, activating the communicator at the same time.

Amidst the static and jumbled signals: "Repeat, all units, Temple District completely sealed off! Senate Emergency Forces declare Galaxy City under martial law! Repeat..."

Her jaw clenched, the composure vanished from her face, and a resolute light ignited in her eyes.

……

Paris Orpheus and Singh Delarig ran through the empty arched corridor, their footsteps echoing so loudly they sounded like a whole squad.

The main gate of the temple was slowly closing, the two huge concrete doors collided with a "rumble" and finally fit together perfectly.

Master Yurok, the gatekeeper, leaned over the monitor, his shoulders slumped, and the deep wrinkles on his face were clearly visible even in the shadows.

Needless to say, this appearance says it all.

In the darkness outside the temple, the footsteps of the clone troopers, the hum of their engines, and the rhythmic clang of their steel boots on the concrete pavement drew ever closer.

The doorman stepped aside and said in a low voice, "See for yourself."

The surveillance footage showed that the area outside the temple was teeming with clone soldiers, hundreds and thousands of them, entire battalions and brigades, densely packed together.

Heavy weapons, tanks, and walking machines were lined up in formation, stretching as far as the eye could see, steadily advancing towards the temple gates.

They stood shoulder to shoulder, their movements synchronized, without the slightest hesitation.

Paris's gaze fell on the giant siege walking machines, watching their cannons slowly adjust their angles, and then she looked at the circling gunboats.

The temple's black silhouette was reflected on thousands of T-shaped masks, creating a suffocating sense of oppression.

Suddenly, a clone commander raised his arm.

The next second, the world exploded with a deafening roar.

The first salvo struck the deflection shield like a giant hammer, unleashing a deafening torrent of energy.

A dazzling light spread across the shield dome, transforming into chaotic flames that surged outwards.

Gunships and starfighters hovered overhead like vultures, bombarding the shield with missiles, torpedoes, and blast cannons in turn.

The concrete beneath our feet trembled violently, and the air crackled with an electrified, scorching heat as the temple's defenses resisted.

One, two, hundreds of impacts followed one after another.

The blast cannon bombarded the shield with mechanical efficiency, and the plasma shells fired by the heavy cannon exploded like dying stars. A swarm of missiles trailed bright contrails, roaring and bringing destruction.

The temple walls groaned and trembled, and dust fell from the vaulted ceiling, swirling like ghosts.

The external attacks gradually gained rhythm, becoming stable, orderly, and continuous.

Paris knew that the shield could hold out for a while, and the wall could last even longer, but the outcome was already predetermined; it was only a matter of time.

Brushing the dust off her shoulders and ignoring the tremors beneath her feet, Paris looked at Sin Delalig: "Even with all the preparations, do you really think we can hold out?"

“Yes.” Sin Delarig answered without hesitation, his tone firm. “Thanks to you and Master Gallia, the temple’s fortifications far exceeded the Coruscant’s expectations. Even if the shields fail, it will take their siege cannons several hours to breach the main gate.”

“What about the other entrances?” Paris pressed.

Yurok took over, his voice steady: "All hangars are sealed and local shields activated. All passages to the lower city are blocked, and ventilation ducts are sealed and shielded according to anti-chemical warfare protocols. The temple is circulating its internal atmosphere and is now completely sealed off... Nothing can get in or out."

“All civilian personnel are under protective detention, and the Temple Guard is stationed at all key points,” Sin Delalig added, his eyes sharp. “No one will be allowed into the Temple, not even the Jedi who were trapped outside at the start of the attack.”

Paris frowned: "The security department might take hostages to force us to open the door; they're capable of doing it."

“We were prepared.” Yurok’s lips tightened. “Even if they bring hostages to the door, the answer will only be refusal. You say reinforcements will arrive in eighteen hours? What kind of force will be deployed?”

Paris took a deep breath, her fingertips tightening slightly.

The so-called "support" consisted of separatist warships, loaned out by the Confederate's most notorious admiral.

The heavy feeling of being deceived weighed on her heart, and she forced herself to meet Yulock's gaze: "The support comes from Queen Titan. We made arrangements when we were there last time."

Sin Delalig nodded thoughtfully, his tone appreciative: "Eighteen hours... makes sense. Master Pro and Master Gallia are always one step ahead of us; their foresight has always been extraordinary."

“You can’t even imagine…” Paris responded softly, her tone tinged with melancholy.

Another violent impact came, and the monitor burst into a blinding light... The heavy weapon struck the temple's deflection shield.

The faint light of dawn was drowned out by the flashes of gunfire, and the three instinctively retreated, venturing deeper into the temple.

All around, masked temple guards stood silently, their white robes spotless, their long-handled lightsabers gleaming with unwavering light in the dim light.

They will never yield, at least not while the temple stands.

But Barris knew in her heart that this might be the last days of the Jedi Temple.

The corridor trembled with each impact, and the tension in the air was like the breath-holding moment before a lightsaber is drawn, so heavy it was suffocating.

As she walked through the corridor, she could feel the sense of responsibility on the temple guards... They were sworn to defend their position to the death, preferring to die rather than let the enemy set foot in the holy land.

This unwavering resolve, however, left her unsure whether to feel reassured or disgusted.

(End of this chapter)