Star Wars: From the Clone Wars to Starfaring Heroes

Chapter 53 - Silence (5.5k)

Captain Salukamai.

A one-eyed officer with a conspicuous scar on his face.

He glanced gratefully in Renn's direction.

But Ryan was focused on the star chart and didn't look at him.

Rein's gaze swept quickly across the enemy-occupied territory. He decisively selected the icons of the two light cruisers, the "Lexington" and the "Saratoga," and dragged them into a star field already covered in a blinding red.

"Execute the raid order: Target—enemy supply lines, harass continuously, and create as much chaos as possible."

He calmly issued the order.

He knew that the further the enemy advanced in the direction of Permia, the longer their logistical chain would extend, and the greater the pressure they would face.

The only effective tactic to slow down the enemy's advance seems to be a scorched-earth policy, destroying everything in its path.

The idea flashed through Renn's mind and was immediately rejected.

Destroy Allied infrastructure?

This is tantamount to drinking poison to quench thirst, because the friendly forces that eventually come to reinforce will also need to rely on these facilities.

They cannot afford this price.

"Fleet unit destroyed." The Arena announcement rang out again.

"Damn it!" Captain Hathor couldn't help but curse, wiping his defeated face. "Schiff, did you hear that? Abandon Wozid! Execute the retreat order, target Kolumex! My fleet will establish a temporary ambush point at the entrance to the Wozid system to buy you time!"

“Rain…” Commander Trilm’s voice lowered as she turned to Rain, her eyes filled with a dangerous scrutiny.

“Yes, I know.” Raine didn’t look up, but pressed his knuckles against his throbbing temples and repeated, “I know.”

The situation has become so clear it's almost despairing.

If the Salin front continues to collapse at the current rate, the troops struggling in the south, along with the fleets of Schiff and Hathor, will be completely cut off from their rear and surrounded by the enemy fleet.

“I’m going to bring my rapid reaction force to the Renwal Sector.” Vinok raised his voice, breaking the oppressive silence, and pointed his finger heavily at the location of Renwal on the star map. “The rest of you must gather as many available ships as possible in the Lennar system. Gather as many as you can! That’s our last possible line of defense!”

"No!" A burly commander from the Khalkha tribe stood up abruptly, his thick fingers almost touching the star map. "Every pasecond! Commander, every pasecond is crucial! Retreat to Lenna now? That's tantamount to surrendering two thousand paseconds of strategic depth! Handing it over to the enemy!"

“He’s right,” Renn’s gaze swept quickly across the fluctuating numbers on the tactical timer before returning to the rapidly spreading red area on the star map. “We’re losing too much territory, too fast to bear… Kret, Aviso, change course! Turn immediately towards Kolumex to support the ‘Havoc’ squadron and solidify their defenses there! Sanim or Indrex sector, who else can spare ships to reinforce Rennval?”

“We can,” a Quaron officer replied, gesturing to a small group of colleagues beside him, “but at the cost… Sanim will be completely unprotected by the fleet, its gates wide open.”

“We have no choice.” Commander Raine frowned, his voice hoarse but firm. “The advance of the Burning Comet (BCC) fleet must be halted, at all costs. We need time now. Execute the order immediately.”

"Understood." The Quaron officer nodded heavily.

"If this can offer you any comfort," Captain Aviso interjected with a wry smile, trying to ease the tension, "the real Galactic Republic army is certainly not as efficient or ruthless as the enemies simulated in the 'Arena.' We are fighting against a machine that has no morale, no fear, no hesitation, and no personal style or character flaws of any commander. Its decisions are purely based on cold calculations and optimal solutions. If we can survive this simulation..."

He paused, then continued, "So, we are confident that we can handle any challenge that the Republic throws at us in reality."

At this moment, the enormous holographic star map was like a boiling ocean of energy, incredibly active, with countless icons representing the fleet in blue, red, and green moving rapidly, flashing, colliding, and disappearing against the deep black background.

This constitutes a complex war game that exceeds the limits of any individual's understanding.

As the pre-designed fleet organization and command system crumbled under the enemy's fierce attacks, the organizational structure collapsed.

The markers on the star map are no longer organized fleets, but isolated points of light scattered across various star sectors, representing single ships or squads.

The commanders' voices mingled together, hoarsely calling for support from each other, while doing their utmost to maintain the operational integrity of their remaining forces.

As small-scale skirmishes and battles unfolded intensely via projection in the operations room, faint sparks of electricity actually flew through the air, and the air was filled with the acrid smell of overloaded electronic equipment.

“Isn’t there an old saying?” Holgo Schiff leaned back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling, his voice filled with helplessness, “'Always making the best decisions makes you predictable'?”

"Apply this maxim on a real battlefield? Good luck." Vinok let out a long breath and rubbed his sore neck. "The key is, how do we know what the 'best decision' is? It can only be predicted when we can accurately determine the optimal solution. Do you think your brain is smarter than the supercomputer that powers 'Arena'?"

Anzart has fallen.

"Agornar has fallen."

"Quail, fallen."

The cold, electronic voice once again relentlessly broadcast the list of those who had lost territory.

The Star Map Battlefield is awe-inspiring in space.

“I don’t like its sound.” Renn stared in the direction from which the 'Arena' sound came, his brow furrowed. “Its smug electronic voice sounds… like it’s mocking me.”

"Raine, you're overthinking it, you need to rest."

Looking at the suffocating crimson on the holographic star map, representing enemy-controlled areas and the fog of war, constantly encroaching on the blue zone, Bontri felt a wave of dizziness.

The arena simulates a digital enemy fleet that launches wave after wave of attacks without stopping.

The fog of war adds to the uncertainty, with crimson lights appearing and disappearing like lurking deadly threats.

The enemy fleet groups that suddenly emerged from the fog carried a devastating sense of oppression.

Occasionally, a desperate officer would order a reconnaissance ship to venture deep into the Red Zone.

Before the reconnaissance ship was destroyed in an instant, it briefly illuminated a large area of ​​dense enemy ship signals, leaving behind a ghostly, flickering afterimage representing the "last known location of the enemy".

It's like an electronic tombstone erected for the victims.

Just then, a Sinot officer suddenly convulsed violently, let out a short groan, and then collapsed without warning, falling heavily to the floor with a thud.

The surrounding officers instinctively flinched backward.

The holographic projection device he was wearing lost its stable connection, projecting distorted and flickering images onto the floor.

A few seconds later, another holographic image appeared in the same spot.

This might be his vice-captain.

The face in the video, filled with deep apology, nodded slightly to the command center before disconnecting.

The markers representing their fleet vanished from the star map in an instant.

Inside the command center, only thirty-one people remained.

“His brain must be overheating too.” Rael Hathor tried to dispel the oppressive atmosphere with a joke, then picked up a plate of almost untouched synthetic food from a small table outside his holographic range and took a bite without tasting it.

“I can’t blame him.” Captain Kret muttered under his breath, glancing at the timer. “In real time, it’s been running for twenty-six hours straight.”

Raine was taken aback by what he heard.

Twenty-six hours?

He felt a sharp headache coming on, and his temples throbbed.

He forcefully swept his sweat-dampened bangs back, revealing a face equally exhausted.

Perhaps we should really increase the simulation's time acceleration factor?
"Felucia has fallen."

The cold, electronic tones of 'ARENA' sounded like a final death knell, announcing the fall of this crucial backup star system.

Inside the command center, sixteen exhausted commanders almost simultaneously turned their heads sharply, their movements carrying an unbelievable stiffness and a comical sense of synchronization, their gazes all focused on the location of Felucia on the star map.

Shock was written on every weary face.

Felucia.

This strategic location controls multiple hyperspace routes.

It has actually fallen.

A special task force known as "Flaming Claws" tears through a dangerous nebula called "The Vortex."

Theoretically speaking, this nebula is impassable.

But the task force still made its way through, advancing at high speed along the Aldan Crossroads, heading straight for the planet Sanim.

Sanim is only 1,500 seconds away from the core world of Lax!

This "human-machine" interaction is a bit unreasonable.

“I told you so,” a hoarse voice whispered with a bitter confirmation from the corner.

“All fleets…” Renn took a deep breath, his mouth struggling to keep up with his rapidly working brain. After several attempts, he managed to squeeze out the order: “Withdraw to Lenna, immediately… Schiff, Aviso, Kret, your fleets are responsible for covering the rear, and at all costs, hinder the enemy’s advance.”

He forced himself to stay alert, his finger tracing the star map. "Establish the final defensive perimeter between coordinates 70009, 3649 and 6826, 3591. Hathor... how many defensive platforms can you get for us?"

Lenna.

The name of this galaxy carries a heavy weight in everyone's heart.

It is the final gateway to the Tyne Cluster and the intersection of five major hyperspace routes.

The Republic must control at least three of the shipping lanes in order to invade Tyne.

The Peremia Channel is under heavy attack by the main force of the Coruscant Strike Force (CSC).

The Aldan Cross Passage and the Shartin Tunnel are being used by the Burning Comet (BCC) fleet for flanking maneuvers.

Everyone knew that Lena would be their last line of defense, their last foothold. "Uh—" Hathor blinked hard, his bloodshot eyes widening as he peered at the data on the tactical screen, his dark circles clearly visible. "I've salvaged four fixed heavy weapon platforms from the ruins of the Krones system. In addition, I can urgently deploy approximately forty-seven laser interceptor satellites and missile floating cannons on the outskirts of the Lena system."

He licked his chapped lips. "They may not be able to stop the capital ships, but they will definitely make the Republic's landing ships and assault boats pay a heavy price during the planetary assault."

Renn silently calculated the time.

It has been almost forty hours since the simulation started?

He himself never left the war room, which was like a high-pressure steamer.

His gaze would only briefly drift towards the door when a service robot brought in synthetic nutritional paste and water.

They established a temporary rotation system, where each officer would take turns resting in the adjacent lounge for two or three hours.

But this is far from enough.

Even if this is just a simulated battle.

The officers' strong sense of responsibility and their concern for the rapidly changing battle situation made everyone reluctant to close their eyes, for fear of missing any crucial information.

“Very good, Jom—”

Rein looked at Captain Chom, who was in charge of logistics.

“The fuel reserves and Tibana gas are in place according to the coordinates,” an assistant officer answered for Chom, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “However… the variety is quite mixed, with ships from different star systems and models, so the engine performance may… fluctuate greatly, Commander.”

“We’re on the edge of a cliff!” Trilm rubbed his cheeks vigorously, as if trying to shake off the numbness. “Low engine efficiency? That’s the last thing we need to worry about.”

On the star map, the blue dots representing the remnants of the fleet began to move, struggling to converge on the Lenna system.

Surprisingly, no one objected to Raine's order to retreat.

Their long-term collaboration and the harsh realities they faced led them to a consensus.

In this situation, Lennar is the only option.

Furthermore, they had comprehensively reinforced this eco-city planet in advance, and concentrated all the ships and defense platforms they could collect in this star system.

As can be seen from the image above, during the final siege of the outer ring, only three large areas in the northeast corner and a few small enclaves scattered throughout the galaxy remained loyal to the Confederacy. The Republic launched a full-scale attack from seven directions.

"Mosak has fallen."

"Kolumex has fallen."

"Dlaukize has fallen."

The cold, impersonal announcements followed one after another, like hammering on everyone's taut nerves.

The enemy army, like a ruthless pack of beasts, relentlessly crushed and advanced from three directions, devouring world after world with its greedy might.

Commander Holgo Schiff led the battered "Havoc" squadron in a doomed but tragic battle in the Galedland system.

"Fleet units destroyed."

"Galideland has fallen."

The marker representing Schiff's fleet on the star map went out instantly.

Schiff slowly slumped back in his command chair, closed his eyes, and said nothing, only silently raising his hand to indicate that his troops had been completely annihilated.

Next came Captain Aviso and Captain Kret, who attempted a deep defense strategy in the Alcan system.

"Fleet units destroyed."

"Fleet units destroyed."

"Fleet units destroyed."

"Alkan has fallen."

"..."

A series of electronic sounds rang out mercilessly, announcing the annihilation of the rearguard fleet.

Even inside the Lenna system, where the first wave of small-scale conflicts had already broken out, the 'Arena' notification tone continued tirelessly, in an almost smug, monotonous tone, like reciting a shopping list, broadcasting the bad news of the successive falls of the galaxies behind.

The battle in the Lenna system escalated rapidly.

Initially, only a few advance squadrons of the Republic jumped into the system, triggering small-scale firefights.

Soon, these conflicts escalated into fierce local battles.

Until the Republic's first main fleet tore through the outer defenses and surged in.

Hundreds of ships from both sides poured into the Lenna system from all directions to reinforce it.

The scale of the battle expanded exponentially, and the previously distinguishable local battlefields quickly disappeared, transforming the entire galaxy into a colossal, chaotic, and inescapable killing furnace.

The blue contrails from countless sub-light-speed engine nozzles intertwined and collided with the blazing turbo laser cannon fire, forming a dazzling and chaotic spectral vortex on the star map.

This level of visual stimulation is sufficient to trigger photosensitive diseases.

In fact, Ryan noticed that several of his light-sensitive companions had painfully looked away or put on filter goggles.

Soon, the battle spiraled completely out of control, the chaos exceeding the capabilities of any human commander.

They had no choice but to step back and hand over command entirely to the tactical calculation core of the calculator.

The fleet organization no longer exists, and even if it did, it would be meaningless in the dense, indistinguishable storm of light spots on the star map that represents ship explosions and laser beams.

The commanders issued the final and only order: all ships, fight to the death.

Then, they closed their bloodshot, dry, and stinging eyes, leaned back in their chairs, and wearily awaited the outcome of this final battle.

Raine slept for about five hours in extreme exhaustion until the familiar, monotonous electronic voice of the 'Arena' woke him up.

"Fleet units destroyed."

Immediately afterwards...

"Lena has fallen."

Everything is over.

Thus, apart from the civilian units responsible for logistics and statistics, the Foundry Sector no longer had any organized separatist armed forces.

Simulations show that the Tyon Cluster will fall into the hands of the Galactic Republic within just a few hours.

"Lax, fallen."

The steady electronic sound now carried a sense of finality, as if everything had settled down.

The command center was deathly silent.

After a long silence, Captain Aviso asked in a hoarse, almost broken voice, "...So, how long...did we hold out?"

Rein blinked hard at his blurry eyes and looked at the tactical timer.

The fluctuating numbers seemed to have a double image; it took him a while to decipher them before he slowly said, "Fifty-one hours, roughly... twenty-six standard days."

They were ten days behind their original target.

But there wasn't much disappointment on Ryan's face.

He has achieved his core objectives of forming a joint fleet and understanding the command team.

This brutal simulation gave him a deep understanding of the style and abilities of each commander.

Carly Trilm: Pragmatic and decisive, she is not hesitant to sacrifice local assets when it can yield greater strategic benefits.

Aviso: An academically trained individual with rigorous tactical discipline and a thorough understanding of every detail of ship command.

Rael Hathor: He has an outspoken and fiery personality, but is exceptionally cautious in the use of ships and avoids risks.

Krett: A typical Nemoidean thinker, shrewd and calculating, an expert in defensive warfare and resource management.

Holgo Schiff: In stark contrast to Krett, he favored offense and preferred high-risk, high-reward blitzkrieg tactics.

"Depend on."

Captain Chom broke the silence with a succinct assessment.

This captain, who was originally introverted, seemed to have loosened up a bit after experiencing this long and arduous battle side by side.

His expertise in the complex space routes toward the edge of the Milky Way played an irreplaceable role in organizing the evacuation and establishing temporary supply lines.

“…That’s enough.” Renn’s voice, filled with thoughtful certainty, broke the heavy atmosphere. “The ‘Arena’ we’re fighting against is a supercomputer with perfect decision-making logic and terrifying coordination capabilities. It has no emotions, no mistakes, only optimal solutions. If we were truly facing such a desperate situation in reality…”

He looked around at his tired but still sharp-eyed colleagues. “What we need to do is emulate everything we’ve done here, work together, and do our best. Then the enemy will collapse before we do.”

He solemnly crossed out one item from the invisible task list in his mind.

Next, he needs to turn his attention to the actual offensive plan and make sure it unfolds as he envisions.

(End of this chapter)