We had made it back to Mon Cala. I was still surprised about it days later. We had survived, where over three thousand people had died. Over fifty percent casualties. It was the closest I had ever gotten to dying, since the pirates at Sullust. And how shocking it is that that was barely over a year ago? I eventually managed to write my after action report and ordered the remnants of the Section to continue the patrolling around the Mon Cala System. My situation was changing too quickly for me to get into a sustainable rhythm and I was starting to feel burnt out. Thank the Maker I had good NCOs to delegate parts of the Logistical and crew bureaucracies, I would probably have imploded without them.

  Eventually I was informed I and the remaining Captains were to be debriefed imminently. I quickly combed my hair adjusted my officers badge and tapped my holster as I rushed towards the ship’s main comms station. I entered a private room and stood at attention awaiting the transmission.

  The Holoprojector activated and before me stood a miniature version of Jedi General Kit Fisto, followed shortly after by my two friends and fellow Captains.

  “I am sorry, that I must contact you all again so soon. I have read your status reports. I have no further questions, simply your new orders from Republic High Command.” The Jedi says.

  “We await your orders, sir.” I reply, sharply.

  The Jedi paused for a moment before speaking: “High Command has decided the 347th shall continue her current responsibilities . Expect Clone “Hope” Company to be reinforced, the last remaining Clone Lieutenant CT-0996-07 of the Little Revenge shall be promoted to Captain and placed under the command of now promoted Senior Captain Thraken Dericote. The remaining Junior Captains are both to be promoted to full captaincies, congratulations to you all. All men will stay at their current commands.”

  “Thank you, sir.” I hear Luis say.

  I simply nod in affirmation.

  The Jedi doesn’t seem to notice and simply continues: “The 347th has been allocated the funds and permission to convince the local government of transferring the command of two frigates. These frigates may keep their previous crews and officers or have locals crew them on account of reinforcements from else where being highly unlikely at this time. At the least they will be placed in full under your and thus the Republic’s command.”

  I barely pick up Faxe muttering to himself: “Yes because that makes up for us loosing two cruisers”

  The Jedi ignores him before finishing: “Your orders have changed slightly. Due to increased tactical importance of the area, the 347th Outer Rim Section is to begin raiding of military supply ships and given full permission to board uncooperative civilian ships.”

  My eyebrows shoot into my hairline at that. We were to essentially become privateers. Hardly better than pirates. The audacity. This was not proper and spat at tradition like nothing the Jedi had ever done before. Sure raiding shipping had been done in ages past, but only in the most dire of circumstances was it done by the actual Navy instead of mercenaries or pirates.

  “The command responsibility of the defense of Mon Cala shall be placed under their Defense Fleet, you are however to assist them when called upon. As for the shipping raids, Republic Intelligence shall provide you with a myriad of targets for raiding, you are permitted to choose from. This should ensure any leaks are not on your end, as accused by some higher ranking officers. Be aware you will be given specific targets in the future to assist in the greater war effort alongside any additional targets you may choose. That is all, dismissed.” The General finishes.

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  The trio of Captains salute and the Jedi’s miniature self disappears from view. I looked at my two friends, waiting for someone to talk. It took a minute, but eventually Luis broke the silence: “Well, it could be worse. They could have disbanded the Section.”

  “Yes, because that is so much worse than insulting naval tradition. This hasn’t been done since the Great Sith wars over two thousand years ago.” I say, a frown gracing my face.

  “And we’re doing this during a civil war. A civil war where both parties are democratically inclined.” Faxe says.

  “Careful friend, that borders on treason.” Luis counters.

  “I am merely suggesting the situation is not the best. Hypothetically, High Command, be that the Chancellor or the Jedi Council, seem keen on having our section destroyed at this rate.” Faxe bemoans.

  I need to stop this before it turns into genuine treason: “Enough. Bemoaning the situation will do nothing to change it. We will follow our orders, despite the slap in the face they provide to naval tradition. If we are ordered to be privateers, then we’ll be the best damn privateers this side of the Hydian way. Inform your crews, I will do the same. May the maker preserve us.”

  Informing the crew did not go to plan. Well, at least for most of the crew. The remnants of Hope Company didn’t seem to grasp the more subtle pieces of naval tradition. The promotions had been dealt out in an acceptable manner, but the orders had not. Especially not orders which had not been given for over two thousand years.

  There were about six dozen transfer requests which ended up on my desk by the end of the week. I didn’t even bother with denying any of them. Maker knew I was maybe about half of the way to complaining to Navy Operations myself. So I simply transferred the seventy odd crew members, who no longer wished to serve on ships which were pirate vessels in all but name.

  I had also made a meeting with the Mon Cala Government with whom I’ll have to negotiate with on the acquisition of the two requested frigates. The meeting would occur in three weeks. Until then however I had decided we would slowly start harrying enemy shipping. For that purpose I had requested sensor buoys so I could independently track enemy shipping while ensuring we would catch the enemy vessels when they actually exited hyperspace and not when they were supposed to.

  A week later the first batch of sensor buoys had arrived and been placed in the cargo hold of the Dagger. Surprisingly the supply convoy arrived with enough V-19 Torrents and BTL-B Y-Wings to fully rebuild two squadrons. And so Little Squadron, consisting of fighters and Bastard Squadron, formed from the bombers, were reformed and re-introduced to the section. The main problem with this was that only one squadron at a time could be safely harbored within the hangar bay of the Little Revenge, the only vessel with such facilities. This would most likely be Little Squadron, as the V-19s don’t come with built in hyperdrives. This was less of a problem when the fleet went on the attack, but during downtime one of the squadrons would have to borrow some hangar space in the Mon Cala Shipyards or else squeeze a few extra strikecraft into the hold.

  We spent the next week using Republic Intelligence to avoid merchant shipping, jumping on the less trafficked routes Intelligence had discovered and leaving the sensor buoys there to keep an eye on things. We even managed to drop a series of buoys on one of the major supply arteries of the Separatist war machine in the Northern Outer Rim, though we had to get the hell out of there before we could get noticed.

  Only a week until the Meeting I was reading through an intelligence report when something caught my eye. Intelligence had found information which implied the Separatists were gearing up for another assault on Felucia. That damned planet littered with swampland and mushroom forests seemed to swap occupiers more often than it mattered to keep track of. It appeared a shipment of battledroids and supporting armor was heading through one of the readjustment points we had under survey. Most likely heading towards Felucia.

  I immediately inform my officers of our new target and began preparing my ships for battle.

  We were about a minute long hyperspace jump away from our target location. This way we would emerge from hyperspace just about three minutes before they could reach the next jump point along the hyperspace lane.

  “Sir, the enemy ships have entered sensor range.”

  “All ships, this is Captain Dericote, jump.” I order.

  A second later the trio of ships and our bomber squadron were each enraptured by the swirling of hyperspace. I paused a moment to admire the view before turning to the tactical display. Based off of intelligence we should expect four Hardcell-class Interstellar transports along with a duet of Gozantis. It should be a cakewalk for us. With our ships outweighing them and outclassing them.

  As long as intelligence hadn’t mucked the schedule up we should be fine.

  “One minute sir.”

  We would be fine right?