Hyperspace dissolved into starlight once more.
The transition was smooth—almost gentle—as the massive fleet emerged from the blue tunnel of hyperspace. One moment the universe had been nothing but streaking energy and warped gravity fields, and the next the stars returned, cold and steady across the void.
The bridge of the *Terminus* grew quiet as the crew adjusted to realspace.
Then the main viewport filled with green.
An entire world of green.
Forests stretched endlessly across the surface below, a dense ocean of towering trees broken only by winding rivers and distant mountain ridges. From orbit the planet looked almost untouched by civilization.
Wild.
Ancient.
Alive.
I leaned slightly forward, studying it.
"Endor," I murmured.
The jungle world sat peacefully beneath our fleet, completely unaware that one day it would become one of the most important battlegrounds in galactic history.
For now, though, it was nothing more than an obscure Outer Rim world.
Few hyperspace routes passed through the system.
Fewer still stopped here.
Which made it perfect.
A hidden gathering point.
A staging ground that almost no one would bother checking.
My eyes narrowed slightly as Ethan projected a quiet navigation overlay beside the viewport.
Coordinates flickered across the display.
The same ones I remembered.
The **Sanctuary Pipeline**.
A hidden hyperspace route the future Rebellion would one day use to move ships safely through Imperial territory. The corridor threaded its way between unstable gravitational pockets and micro-nebula clusters that made most navigators avoid the region entirely.
But if you knew the exact path…
It was safe.
Fast.
Invisible.
I allowed myself a faint smile.
History had a strange habit of leaving useful footprints behind.
And right now, those footprints were helping me hide an entire fleet.
Behind me, the bridge crew began reporting in.
"Navigation stable."
"Fleet formation holding."
"All vessels present and accounted for."
Good.
Seventy-six Acclamators.
Seven dreadnoughts.
Sixty Consular cruisers.
Fifty Arquitens escorts.
And the *Terminus* itself at the center.
A war armada hiding above an untouched forest world.
Not a bad place to plan a war.
I turned slightly toward the communications station.
"Open a fleet-wide channel."
The clone officer glanced up.
"Yes, General."
A moment later a green indicator blinked to life.
"All ships connected."
Thousands of soldiers.
Hundreds of officers.
Every captain, pilot, and trooper within my command network was now listening.
Good.
Because it was time they understood what we were about to do.
I stepped forward slightly, hands clasped behind my back as the stars reflected faintly across the viewport.
"This is General Dagon Marek."
My voice carried across the fleet.
Clear.
Calm.
"Troopers of the Republic, listen carefully."
I paused just long enough for every crew member across the armada to focus on the transmission.
"Our first official objective in this campaign was the capture of **Muunilinst**."
The name hung in the air for a moment.
The Banking Clan capital.
A powerful economic center.
And one of the Separatists' most heavily defended worlds.
"But recent intelligence suggests that the situation there is… complicated."
That part, at least, was technically true.
Just not the way they thought.
"Republic Intelligence intercepted information indicating that the Separatists have prepared a large-scale trap around Muunilinst."
Several officers on the bridge exchanged quick glances.
Good.
Let the idea sink in.
"The enemy expects us to attack directly. They intend to lure a Republic fleet into a prepared ambush."
I let a small pause follow the statement.
Then continued.
"However, the Supreme Chancellor himself has quietly advised that alternative strategies may be… necessary."
A lie.
A simple one.
But a very useful lie.
Because the moment those words left my mouth, the plan gained legitimacy.
Palpatine's name carried enormous weight in the Republic military hierarchy.
Even the most skeptical officers would hesitate before questioning a strategy supposedly backed by the Chancellor.
"Therefore," I continued calmly, "I have developed a new operational approach."
The holographic tactical display flickered to life across every command deck in the fleet.
Three systems appeared.
Boz Pity.
Mygeeto.
Muunilinst.
"Our first strike will target **Boz Pity**."
A red marker appeared across the ash-covered world.
"The Separatists maintain several major military factories there, along with a staging fleet."
Destroying them would send shockwaves through the Confederacy's command network.
Panic.
Confusion.
Forced redeployment.
"After eliminating the Boz Pity installations, we will move immediately to **Mygeeto**."
The next system lit up.
"The Banking Clan maintains significant fleet assets in that region. If those forces are crippled, Muunilinst will lose its primary naval reinforcement corridor."
Which meant the trap waiting at Muunilinst would suddenly have no teeth.
Finally the third system glowed bright red.
"Muunilinst."
The final objective.
"Our fleet will strike the capital only after weakening the Separatist defensive network."
No ambush.
No surprise trap.
Just a Republic armada arriving at full strength.
"The enemy expects us to follow their plan."
I allowed the faintest hint of a smile to reach my voice.
"We will disappoint them."
A quiet ripple of approval moved through the bridge crew.
Clones understood strategy.
They appreciated efficiency.
And they especially appreciated not being thrown blindly into traps.
I finished the transmission calmly.
"All fleet captains are to begin final combat preparations."
"First objective: Boz Pity."
The stars outside the viewport remained calm.
Peaceful.
But every soldier listening to my voice knew what came next.
War.
"May the Force be with us."
I nodded to the communications officer.
"End transmission."
The channel closed.
For a few seconds the bridge remained silent.
Then Ethan spoke quietly beside me.
"Your statement regarding the Supreme Chancellor was… inaccurate."
I glanced at him.
"Yes."
"Is that wise?"
I watched the forest world of Endor rotate slowly beneath the fleet.
In politics, truth was often less important than timing.
"If the operation succeeds," I said calmly, "Republic officers will report exactly what I said."
Ethan processed that.
"And the Chancellor?"
I shrugged slightly.
"He'll hear the same story from dozens of commanders."
Meaning Palpatine would have two options.
Admit he never gave the advice.
Or accept the narrative already spreading through the fleet.
I allowed myself a faint smile.
"And I doubt he'll object to a successful campaign."
Because victories made politicians happy.
And right now—
I intended to deliver several.
Behind us, engines across the massive fleet began warming again.
The next jump coordinates were already being calculated.
Boz Pity waited in the darkness.
And the Separatists still had no idea what was coming.