Star Wars: From the Clone Wars to Starfaring Heroes

Chapter 49 - Star Wars, Begin! (5k-in-49)

Ringo-Venda Galaxy, Ringo-Venda Orbit.

Yoseil Sector.

The operations room of this space station is quite large.

This used to be a conference room, but after Ringo Venda switched to a wartime economy, all the conference systems were dismantled and replaced.

The smooth metal walls bore the square marks of old interfaces, and the air was filled with the faint smell of new electronic equipment and recirculated air conditioning.

A state-of-the-art arena holographic projection table occupies most of the central space, and because operating it requires various consoles and control panels, the table looks larger than it actually is.

More holographic projectors look down from above; once all are activated, they can turn the entire room into a three-dimensional battlefield.

Holographic projectors displayed images of hundreds of separatist captains and commanders.

At this moment, everyone projected onto the screen was staring at the officer at the head of the table.

That is, Rennes.

After completing the purchase of the required warships, they requisitioned the operations room with the help of Trilm.

At the same time, he summoned the fleet officers of the separatists.

The projector's low hum was the only continuous sound in the room.

The operations room is very large.

Ryan had come here alone late at night, when only the emergency lights were on and his footsteps echoed faintly in the empty space.

Now, even the walls here are being used as display screens to house commanders participating in simulated battles.

In this atmosphere, Renn felt oppressed and a chill ran through him.

This newly established operations room did not take any cost into account; everything was equipped with the most cutting-edge technology.

This also meant that none of the images on the projection screen had any blurry blue spots. If he didn't know beforehand that these people were holograms, he would definitely think he had just walked into a live amphitheater.

In this operations room, he could discern the exact skin color of these commanders, even the color of their eyes, and see the fine wrinkles and wear on their uniforms.

Ryan didn't know whether to be amazed by the virtual imaging technology or to admire the communications frigates that worked so hard to make it all possible.

While waiting for the last few attendees to join, his gaze swept across the faces, trying to see if he recognized anyone.

drop!
Soon, the system issued a short notification sound, indicating that they had reached the maximum number of participants for this holographic conference.

Several belated signals were rejected.

Nevertheless, this still far exceeded Rennes' expectations.

This also shows how monotonous and tedious it is to perform tasks in a foundry.

Commander Vinok stood to his side and slightly behind, his expression calm, but his sharp eyes scanning the crowd.

Although the room was full, for quite a while no one spoke in the entire operations room.

The entire operations room was completely silent.

They were all sizing each other up in a silent power struggle.

They determine an opponent's faction by scanning their uniforms, establish rank and order based on the stripes and badges on their shoulder straps, and even openly examine the identification markings floating below the images.

But most people were staring straight at Ryan.

They were simply curious and wanted to see what was going on.

Some people recognized Ryan, and their lips twitched slightly.

Others looked displeased, with their arms crossed or their brows furrowed.

Based on Carly's description, Ryan located Rael Hathor in the crowd.

He was trying to blend into the crowd, standing sideways behind a tall, burly man named Quaron.

Raine cleared his throat, his voice sounding exceptionally clear in the quiet room.

He leaned forward, his hands bracing against the cold edge of the table.

“I am Brigadier General Ryan Bontry, under the command of General Severn Tann of the Confederate Second Fleet,” Ryan said, making eye contact with the crowd as much as possible, his gaze steady. “Some of you know me, most of you don’t, but you all know where I’ve fought.”

His voice wasn't loud, but it had a penetrating quality.

These people certainly know.

Anyone who served in the Second Fleet and survived to this day would have had an impressive resume from the very beginning of the war.

Several officers nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Brigadier General, you've summoned us for a simulated battle," a lean, pale Muen commander stroked his smooth chin, his voice carrying a distinctive precision, "What kind of simulated battle requires such a large-scale operation?"

His gaze swept across the crowded room.

Everyone murmured their agreement, and a low hum filled the room.

To ensure the plan could proceed smoothly, Ryan needed to reduce the number of people.

“I will not force any of you to stay,” Raine said, ignoring him and becoming very firm. “This simulated battle requires you to input your ships’ real data into the arena, and… this meeting may last all day or even longer. If you cannot accept these conditions, I suggest you leave now.”

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the room, before saying in a deep voice, "But let me make this clear beforehand: the invitation you receive is a one-time offer. Once you choose to leave, you will not be able to return."

These words caused a stir among the commanders, and the images began to flicker and disappear silently.

Almost instantly, the number of people was reduced by half.

The room suddenly felt much more spacious, and the feeling of confinement was also reduced.

Vinok subtly adjusted his posture.

“Secondly,” Ryan’s voice was firmer, “you must acknowledge that I am the highest-ranking commander in this room. This will be a serious matter, and if you cannot act with the dignity befitting your rank, I will make you leave.”

His gaze fell on several officers who seemed distracted.

"Your authority?" Captain Nemodian, with his grey-green skin and bulging eyes, pressed, his voice hissing. "Then who plays the other side? And how is their authority defined?"

“The Arena will be our opponent,” Renn replied calmly, tapping his finger on the control panel, where the Arena system logo lit up on the desktop.

A Sallust man scoffed, his voice harsh, then disconnected. His image flickered and vanished, taking several others with him.

The remaining people looked at each other, all somewhat bewildered, and became even more uncertain about the whole situation.

Renn glanced at the data panel tucked under his arm.

There are 33 people left.

That's a good number.

“Alright, sir,” the Muen man seemed to accept the situation. The image of the chair beneath him appeared out of thin air as he sat down, emitting a soft simulated sound. “What is the simulated scenario?”

"What's your name, Commander?"

“Commander Hogo Schiff,” he replied, sitting upright, “from Havoc Squadron.”

Renn nodded to Vinok, who had been standing quietly.

The commander walked to the arena's main control panel and skillfully entered commands.

loading……

Loading complete!

The simulated scenario emerges.

A vast interstellar map showcasing the Perlemian Trade Spine and its surrounding region pops out of the table in stunning three-dimensional form, displaying crystal-clear details.

Dozens of bright spots appeared and twinkled around several star systems, representing the ships of the commanders present.

“Excuse me,” a lean human, Captain Chom, spoke hesitantly. His voice was soft but clear. “I am Captain Chom of the oil tanker ‘Aurora.’ Is this invitation extended to all naval captains, or…”

As he spoke, more and more eyes fell on him, making him feel somewhat awkward, and his voice gradually lowered.

His concern was clear: Do auxiliary ships really need to participate in these activities?
Despite having the same rank, it is clear that he and the captains of other auxiliary ships occupy a relatively lower position.

Several commanders showed disapproval on Captain Chom's reaction.

“Captain Chom, in this simulated battle, you’ll find that the Aurora is probably the most important ship among us,” Raine turned slightly to him and gave him an affirmative smile.

Another person silently left, and the image went out. 32 people remained.

"is that so……"

"Captain Chom murmured, straightening his back a little," he said.

"Can we begin?" Renn glanced around the room, his gaze lingering on the faces of the remaining officers for a moment. Seeing that no one was leaving, he nodded decisively. "The simulated battle is as follows: A Republic fleet has been discovered gathering in Landilis and is likely to launch an attack on Lax. The enemies are the 'Open Circle Armada' fleet and the 'Cerulean Spear Fleet'."

However, if necessary, the arena may also deploy the Blazing Claw Fleet and the Third Mid Rim Army.

As he spoke, a huge red threat marker lit up on the map indicating Landilli's location.

Trilm frowned silently, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the virtual desktop.

But the other human officer wasn't so polite...

“Has serving the Pantora gone to your head, Bontri?!” the captain roared, his face turning red. “What do we have here? All our ships combined are only about a hundred? The ‘Ring’ and ‘Azure Spear’ have three times our number of ships! Not to mention the other two fleets, Malajor will probably have been colonized before we defeat them!”

He waved his arms, his emotions running high.

"...What's your name, Captain?" Rein's voice turned cold, his gaze sharp as he stared at the other man.

The human straightened up, his heel clicking lightly on the ground. "I am Captain Aviso, captain of the Star Destroyer *Bronze Serpent*, sir!"

His voice was loud, but his eyes still held a hint of doubt.

“…Captain Aviso is right, sir,” the Nemodian said, leaning his long neck forward. “I am Captain Clay of the battleship Fortressa. If I may be so bold, the Pantora is not here. We have neither her abilities nor her wisdom.”

His tone carried the calculating quality characteristic of the Nemodians.

“That’s right,” Raine said, pacing around the simulation, the image rippled slightly as he passed through a hologram of Captain Quarish. “So our victory condition isn’t to defeat this force, but to delay them long enough for the First and Second Fleets to reinforce us.”

He stopped at the other end of the table and placed his hands back on the edge of the table.

"Our goal is to survive," Commander Vinok summarized succinctly, his voice steady. "I am Commander Vinok of the Star Destroyer 'Crying Sun'."

The silence continues, but it is a different kind of silence.

Beneath the surface, a turbulent undercurrent was brewing, a firm resolve mixed with barely suppressed excitement.

It's important to understand that not all officers on the Peremian route were products of nepotism.

The separatist cause is built on various separatist planets, which in turn breed separatist officers.

Experienced officers, veterans of local planetary or galactic conflicts.

Some of them even participated in the Stark Hyperspace Wars or the Andoran Wars.

Commander Mele himself was a veteran of the Quaren War. His scarred face was expressionless, but his eyes were focused.

These are the people Ryan is looking for.

These soldiers are willing to treat simulated warfare as a strategic meeting rather than a game, and they are disciplined enough to dedicate themselves to it for hours on end.

The main reason is that they had done so before when they served as planetary security forces for their own planet.

Although Ryan's method of screening them was direct and not very accurate, it ultimately achieved its goal.

As long as he has a core group of experienced people, he can build an alliance around them when the time is right.

He saw Commander Schiff already studying the star sectors on the map, tracing flight paths in the air with his fingers.

“Very good,” Captain Aviso tried to hide it, but the corners of his mouth couldn’t help but turn up. “I think I can say on behalf of everyone that we are all attracted to you.”

His tone softened considerably, but carried a hint of challenge.

“Agreed,” Rael Hathor spoke for the first time, his voice clear and calm, no longer trying to hide his presence. “I am Captain Hathor of the Sa Nalaor Starfrigate, Commodore. Where shall we begin?”

He took a step forward, closer to the table.

“We must be wary of an invasion from the Gordian Passage,” Commander Schiff immediately said, pointing to a key node on the map, “so we should deploy from…”

“No, Commander Schiff,” Ryan interrupted him, his tone leaving no room for argument, “we’ll start the scenario simulation from the ships’ current actual positions. After all, if we move them to the front lines, it would be tantamount to exposing ourselves.”

He operated the control panel again, and the green dot on the map instantly moved to the actual location representing Ringo Venda and the surrounding star systems.

“Get out of the way…” Commander Trillm crossed her arms, a mocking smile softening the sharpness of her words. “I am Commander Carly Trillm of the Clysm Fleet, stationed in Salvara. You’d better be prepared, because I’m about to be utterly annihilated.”

She tapped the dot on the map that represented her location.

However, even as she said this, a mocking smile remained on her face.

Captain Crett chuckled slyly in the manner typical of the Nemodian, accompanied by a slight hiss.

The other captains also laughed, which eased the tense atmosphere in the operations room somewhat.

At the same time, Raine pressed a button, and half of the interstellar map was instantly rendered in a hazy, opaque red.

“Red represents enemy territory and the fog of war,” Ryan explained seriously. “Each standard day in the simulation is equivalent to two hours in reality. After this simulation ends, the relevant records will be deleted from the system. Have you all synchronized the data transmission?”

After he finished speaking, he turned to look at Vinok.

Vinok quickly glanced down at the readings on his wrist's tactical data panel, then looked up, his tone certain: "Confirmed, all data stream connections are stable, Commander."

"Synced!"

"Confirm synchronization!"

"..."

The other commanders responded in unison, their voices short and forceful.

They quickly took their positions around the central control console of "ARENA," leaning slightly forward and focusing their gazes on the star map section and tactical screens they were responsible for.

On the holographic star map, the markers representing their respective command fleets are steadily changing from idle blue to active green, clearly indicating "ready".

In that brief, breathtaking moment of preparation, the deep red fog of war flickered violently without warning.

The scene was like a curtain being suddenly pulled open and then instantly closed.

In just a moment, hundreds of crimson enemy markers, densely packed like a swarm of bees, were revealed near Landilis and the Fenda star system.

The next second, the fog closed again, completely obscuring that chilling scene.

Although it was a simulated war, after the selection process, the remaining commanders all treated it as a real war.

Upon seeing that scene, someone couldn't help but gasp and let out a short, tense chuckle, then quickly covered their mouth with their hand to hide their embarrassment.

“Wait a minute,” Captain Hathor said, his brow furrowed and his expression unusually serious as he raised a hand. “Commander Bontri, you haven’t told us how long it will take for the reinforcement fleet to arrive at the battlefield.”

"One standard month."

Raine's voice remained steady, without any emotional fluctuation.

But his brief reply was like a boulder thrown into calm water.

In an instant, the air in the operations room seemed to freeze.

The brief respite from before vanished, replaced by a heavy, almost suffocating silence.

It was clear that fine beads of sweat had formed on the foreheads of several officers, glistening faintly under the interplay of deep blue and blood red light of the holographic star map.

Ryan could see a faint glow on their foreheads in the video, unsure whether it was from excitement or anxiety.

Perhaps both.

"Our mission..." Renn's voice suddenly rose, his gaze sweeping over every focused face, "is to hold out for thirty-five standard days. Now... let's begin!"

Star Wars, launch.

As soon as he finished speaking, he pressed the start button heavily with his finger.

"Beep—Buzz!"

The Arena console emits a clear startup beep.

At the edge of the interstellar map, a semi-transparent timer instantly activated, and the numbers began to jump:
Standard Day 01.

Inside the operations room, the soft overhead lights, which were originally used for regular lighting, dimmed by one degree.

All the commanders' attention was focused on the huge, ever-changing, luminous star map in the center.

(End of this chapter)