**Chapter 668: The Blink of War**
**Scene 1**
**Olympus Mons, Reactor Room**
**Hyperspace**
**Dagon POV**
The reactor room of the *Olympus Mons* thrummed with contained power. Blue-white light from the kyber matrix cores pulsed in rhythm with the ship's heartbeat, casting long shadows across the reinforced bulkheads. I stood at the central console, one hand resting on the warm metal as the Drop Engine cycled through another rapid transition.
Hyperspace skipping — also known as lightspeed skipping — was a dangerous technique that allowed a ship to make quick, successive jumps through hyperspace. It put immense stress on the vessel and could leave it vulnerable when it dropped out. But the Drop Engine was something far more advanced, a prototype hyperspace system the ancient Sith had once used to locate stars for the Star Forge. It made skipping not just possible, but controllable — even through the treacherous paths of nebulas and gravitational anomalies.
From the outside, the process looked almost beautiful. A large sphere of blue light would appear around the ship, starting at the bow and sweeping backward. Once it reached the stern, the vessel would shoot forward, leaving behind fading trails of blue energy. Upon arrival, a brief circle of charged blue particles would bloom around the hull, often knocking out nearby electronics.
Inside, it felt like traveling through a glowing blue tunnel filled with sparks of orange light. The crew called the transition a "shift," and being inside the pocket of distorted space was both exhilarating and nauseating for organic minds.
I had been pushing the *Olympus Mons* hard for two hours now — jumping in, unleashing broadsides and missile salvos, firing a few devastating F-SPAR cannon shots, then vanishing again before the enemy could fully respond. Hit-and-run on a grand scale.
"Tinman," I called out to my personal B1 OOM command battle droid, "how long have we been doing this?"
The droid's photoreceptors flickered. "Sir, it has been two hours. The ship is stable, but I calculate the crew is beginning to fail. Their vital signs show elevated stress, nausea, and disorientation."
"Yeah," Ethan added from the side console, his sarcastic tone cutting through the hum of the engines. "They look a little green, sir. I think too many hyperspace jumps is starting to get to them. Might want to slow down before their stomachs end up with their livers."
I rubbed my temples. The crew's fatigue was real. Even with inertial dampeners and medical stims, organic bodies weren't built for this kind of punishment. The Drop Engine made it possible, but it didn't make it easy.
"Alright," I said finally. "Stop the skipping pattern. Bring us out at the next safe coordinates and give the crew a ten-minute breather. We'll resume after that."
"Acknowledged," the droid replied.
I leaned against the console, feeling the faint tremor of the ship as it stabilized. The girls were spread across the fleet, each commanding their own task groups. I could feel them through the bond — tired, but determined. This rapid-strike campaign was working. The CIS offensive was fracturing under the pressure.
But even I had my limits.
**Scene 2**
**Umbara Orbit**
**Dagon POV**
The *Olympus Mons* dropped out of hyperspace above Umbara like a predator emerging from the shadows. The planet's dark, stormy atmosphere swirled below us, but my attention was fixed on the CIS fleet hanging in orbit.
"Figures," I muttered. "All ships, light them up."
The bridge crew moved with practiced efficiency. Turbolasers charged. Missile tubes opened. The F-SPAR cannon hummed to life at the center of the ship.
"Enemy fleet identified," the tactical officer reported. "One Lucrehulk-class battleship, multiple Providence-class Dreadnoughts, and supporting frigates."
"Open fire," I ordered.
The *Olympus Mons* unleashed hell. Green turbolaser fire raked across the enemy formation. Two Providence-class Dreadnoughts exploded almost instantly as the F-SPAR beam punched straight through their shields and hulls. Missiles streaked out in waves, slamming into Munificent-class frigates and turning them into expanding clouds of debris.
On the bridge of the enemy Lucrehulk — the *Orion* — CIS Admiral Temu stared in disbelief as his fleet crumbled.
"Sir, that is the *Olympus Mons*!" a fleet operator shouted. "We are taking heavy fire!"
"Begin retreat!" Temu ordered, voice tight with panic. "The offensive has failed. All ships, jump!"
The remaining Separatist vessels tried to disengage, but it was too late. Another barrage from the *Olympus Mons* tore through their lines. More ships died in brilliant fireballs.
"Should we contact the fleet for Umbara?" Commander Stryker asked from his station.
"No," I replied. "Jump to friendly space. The CIS offensive is over."
**Scene 3**
**Olympus Mons Bridge**
**Dagon POV**
As the last enemy ships fled into hyperspace, I allowed myself a moment to breathe. The bridge crew cheered quietly — exhausted but victorious.
"Twenty Munificent-class frigates and eight Providence-class Dreadnoughts destroyed," Stryker reported. "Minimal damage to our side."
"Good work, everyone," I said. "Stand down from combat alert. Get some rest. We've earned it."
I leaned back in the command chair, feeling the weight of the last few hours settle on my shoulders. The rapid strikes had worked. The CIS thrust into the Core had been shattered. Now it was time to regroup at Lantilles and prepare for whatever came next.
Through the Force bond, I felt the girls — tired, proud, and waiting for me.
For the first time in days, I smiled.
The war wasn't over. But today… today belonged to us.