Star Wars: From the Clone Wars to Starfaring Heroes

Chapter 62 - Intertwined (Bonus chapter this weekend)
Atlas, Catalina.

The Loryon Sector.

"...I don't see any viable options. Do you?"

Fu-ck!

Anakin cursed inwardly as he listened to what Krell said.

He doesn't really have a better idea right now.

The minefield blocking their way acted like an iron curtain, completely restricting their mobility.

Master Krell has been struggling here for months, and if anyone knows how to break this deadlock, it can only be him.

Anakin nodded, exchanged a glance with Yularen, and then turned away. "I'll go brief the fighter squadron and have the navigation and detection departments scan as much as they can to find a gap that the gunboats can pass through."

"Understood, General."

Yularen's voice remained tense, and without any hesitation, he began to carry out the orders.

Anakin strode toward the Pioneer's massive, bustling flight deck.

Inside the hangar, ground crew were busy moving among the fighter jets. When they saw him approaching, they all stopped what they were doing and looked at him with questions in their eyes.

He quickly found the pilots of the "Hammerhead" squadron on the side of the hangar. They were gathered in the barracks area, surrounding Ahsoka, seemingly listening to her.

Po was among them, listening intently like the other clone soldiers.

The clone commander, maintaining his usual alertness, was the first to notice Anakin's arrival and immediately straightened up at attention as if by reflex.

The others quickly followed suit and stood up.

Ahsoka's words came to an abrupt halt, and he turned away somewhat stiffly.

"What are you doing?" Anakin asked, trying to sound casual.

A flicker of panic crossed Ahsoka's face. "I just..."

Anakin raised an eyebrow slightly. "Asoka, I'm not blaming you, I'm just curious."

He tried to speak calmly, but judging from Ahsoka's still tense expression, it didn't seem to have much effect.

Clearly, the newly accepted apprentice remained cautious, fearing that Anakin might abandon her for the slightest mistake.

Am I that scary?
Anakin found herself at a loss as to how to eliminate this deep-seated fear.

After all, he's not Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Ahsoka bit his lower lip and glanced uneasily at the clone soldiers around him.

Apo immediately understood her predicament.

"Alright, you lot! Stop standing around doing nothing," Apo's voice suddenly rose, carrying a commanding tone, as if he himself hadn't been sitting in the crowd just moments before. "Get back to your posts!"

In that instant, his voice sounded...stunningly like Rex's.

Anakin's heart clenched, almost as if that loyal figure had returned to his side...

He shook his head vigorously.

We must not dwell on the past.

All clones have voices that are set using genetic templates, so they are inherently similar.

That's it.

It has no other meaning.

The soldiers quickly dispersed, and Anakin gestured for Ahsoka to follow him to a quieter spot.

Apo nodded in understanding and immediately turned to drive away the curious ground crew members who were watching.

“What are you doing here…?” Anakin looked at his apprentice, waiting for her to explain.

“I was just… telling them about things in the Jedi Temple,” Ahsoka said, his fingers twisting together unconsciously, looking a little awkward. “About… well, the competition to select apprentices.”

"Are you showing off your achievements?"

“No! Absolutely not!” Ahsoka hurriedly denied, his face slightly flushed. “They asked me how I became your apprentice! Is that...is that not okay, Master? I just felt that as a commander, it’s necessary to boost morale...Shouldn’t we spend more time with them? Sit down and chat, remember their names and faces, instead of just shouting ‘Soldier!’ when we need to give an order? Nobody wants to be treated as an insignificant number or cannon fodder.”

After saying this, Ahsoka puffed out her chest, her earlier impassioned speech seemingly infusing her with a powerful sense of confidence.

Anakin looked at her, a bitter smile creeping onto his face.

Although this apprentice has a lively personality, he is also resilient, has insight far beyond his peers, and is mentally mature beyond his years.

Anakin couldn't help but recall that at her age, she was constantly causing trouble for Obi-Wan, her mind preoccupied with proving that she was no less capable than anyone else.

“Yes,” he said, his voice softer than usual, “They seem to like you, which is good.”

Upon hearing Anakin's affirmation, Ahsoka was visibly taken aback, seemingly not expecting Anakin to react in this way.

“What I mean is…” Ahsoka hesitated, organizing his thoughts, “They’ve lost too many brothers who fought alongside them. Although my perception of the Force isn’t strong, I can still clearly feel their pain. Master, can’t you… feel it?” “Pain is a frequent visitor in this job,” Anakin’s voice lowered.

"Does that include ignoring the pain?" Ahsoka muttered softly, but loud enough for Anakin to hear.

Anakin felt as if something had pierced his heart.

The child's perceptiveness was somewhat beyond his expectations.

He knows all too well what it feels like to be ignored.

Perhaps... she is just like him.

Anakin did hesitate at first, but ultimately accepted her because he couldn't bear to let her taste the bitterness of rejection.

“Asoka, you’re right!” Anakin’s voice was heavy. “Loss… is a lesson we all have to learn, just in different ways. You did very well just now.”

He paused, then quickly changed the subject, "Can you pilot a starfighter?"

Ahsoka was caught off guard by the sudden question and stammered, "Yes...yes, Master! I...when I was a junior apprentice, my flight training results were outstanding."

“Very good,” Anakin said no more, reached out and pressed the intercom button on the nearby bulkhead, and looked up at the command center suspended above the hangar. “This is Skywalker. All units prepare to attack in thirty minutes.”

"Roger that, sir!" The loudspeaker immediately responded, followed by a clear and forceful command that echoed throughout the busy hangar: "All ground crew, report to your direct commander immediately! Seventh Flight Squadron, 'Hammerhead' Squadron, 'Gold' Squadron, and 'Shadow' Squadron, assemble in the standby room immediately for the pre-flight briefing. We will launch in thirty minutes... Gunship formation, stand by, ready to deploy at any time!"

……

Paris slowly sat down in the cold captain's chair in the center of the bridge of the "Unicorn," the hard metal back pressing against her spine.

She couldn't help but wonder, how could anyone feel comfortable with such a design?

Unless it's a robot made entirely of metal, sitting for a long time is pure torture.

Xiao Ta stood calmly in her usual spot on her right.

In contrast, Barris felt extremely uneasy about her role as the temporary captain.

The Unicorn's massive body roared as it broke through the atmosphere. The azure sky outside the portholes quickly faded, turning into a deep cosmic black curtain, and the once flat horizon curved into a huge planetary arc.

At a higher orbit, the Centaur hovered silently at the center of a loose formation of small frigates, awaiting further orders.

A few degrees to port, the Trelos satellite was clearly visible, with the massive Lukri Hook-class converted cargo ship, the Guardian, floating alone beside it.

The Guardian's massive spherical cargo hold has been completely remodeled and crammed with additional reactors and shield generators. Its most striking feature is the dense array of turret bases on the hull surface.

Its powerful point defense system covers a secure airspace that is the final destination for all transport ships about to take off from the surface of Atlantis.

However, on the only route the transport ship could take to reach the safe zone...

"'Invincible-class' Dreadnought, bearing 019, marking 086 degrees," the sensor robot emitted a monotonous electronic voice, "Ship identification: Republic Judicial Fleet flagship, 'Crysaor'."

Paris turned her head in surprise.

Is this a new situation?
Previously, when Raine was in the captain's position, she didn't seem to have heard the robot report the location markers in such detail.

"Communication request received from 'Habatok II,' sir," another communications robot reported immediately afterward. "Connect?"

Paris sighed silently.

Before the battle had even officially begun, she was already overwhelmed with all sorts of information and demands.

"Connect".

"'Unicorn', this is 'Habatok', our escort fleet is in position and awaiting departure orders from the transport ship."

Paris instinctively glanced back, as if she could see through the layers of decks to the fleet of transport ships anxiously waiting for the green light signal below.

If it weren't for the colossal two-kilometer-long Chrysaor standing like a steel mountain in the distance, she would have wanted to issue the launch order immediately.

"Send the green light signal," Little Tower ordered.

Paris looked at the little tower with some surprise, hesitating to speak, "But..."

She pointed out the porthole to the giant ship "Crysaor" that was slowly approaching.

Meanwhile, a new threat indicator flashed on the tactical display screen, indicating that three Corellian DP20 gunboats were speeding towards them from the edge of the defensive line, intending to intercept them.

“The ‘Crysaor’ does not pose a direct fire threat to us at the moment,” Little Tower calmly analyzed in his monotone synthesized voice. “The most effective way for that ship to inflict substantial damage on us is through physical impact. According to my probability model calculations, now is the optimal window of opportunity to send out transport ships, as the enemy’s starfighters have not yet arrived on the battlefield. The intention of those gunboats is to delay our actions and buy time for our fighter squadrons.”

Paris instinctively bit her lip. "Understood. Give Lieutenant Carol the green light."

"Yes, yes!"

"Green light received, sir. Wish us luck," Carroll's voice came through.

“We need to clear a safe passage for the transport ships,” Little Tower began to issue instructions methodically. “Signal all warships to execute combat plan one.”

“Uh, sir?” A B1 combat robot timidly raised its metal arm. “I think they… might not be fully familiar with the latest formation changes yet.”

The tactical robot's glowing electronic eyes turned to it, paused for a second, and then nodded somewhat reluctantly. "Signal all ships to adopt the standard line formation, calculate the interception route and expected deceleration point of the enemy gunboats, and order each ship's turret to lock onto these coordinates in advance."

(End of this chapter)