**Chapter 729: Iron and Honor**
**Scene 1: CR90 Corvette – En Route to the Atrisian Commonwealth**
Marshal-Commander Blam sat in the modest mess area of the CR90 corvette, crunching on a piece of toast while scrolling through the datapad with his right index finger. The mission briefing was different from his usual combat drops and rapid strikes. He, along with Major Puck, Lucky, Devil, and the newest addition — ARC Trooper "Icepick" — had been assigned as observers accompanying Fleet Admiral Dittmar on this diplomatic voyage. Their task was to assess the Atrisian Commonwealth's military capabilities, tactics, and overall readiness. Valuable intelligence for the ongoing war. And, as Blam always reminded himself, it was best to know your potential allies… or enemies.
He washed down the toast with a swig of nutrient juice and leaned back, reviewing the limited files more thoroughly.
The Atrisian fleet was notably standardized. Unlike the Republic's eclectic "zoo" of vessels from dozens of manufacturers, Commonwealth ship development and production were fully centralized under state control. Their lineup was clean and efficient: two types of patrol ships (light and long-range), one frigate class, two cruiser types (strike and armored), two landing craft variants (light and heavy), two battleship classes known as "Arimajiro" — literally "iron ships" — and a single aircraft carrier design.
Specific performance data beyond approximate dimensions remained classified, making true combat power assessments difficult. Still, in Blam's professional opinion, even the smallest Arimajiro would likely outmatch a Venator in a straight slugfest — assuming their armor and armament lived up to the rumors. Everything hinged on those unknowns.
The ground forces were even more intriguing. The Atrisian Stormtrooper Corps formed the backbone of their army and was also clone-based. However, their cloning program was far more selective. Donors were hand-picked from the best in their fields, and exceptional individuals could become prototypes for new batches of soldiers, pilots, or technicians. The Atrisians even held competitions among clones to select the "best of the best." A reasonable, merit-driven approach that Blam respected.
Their organizational structure differed significantly from the Grand Army of the Republic. The smallest unit was the "U" — a five-fighter team strictly specialized by mission role, with tailored equipment and training. Five "U"s formed a squad of twenty-five (roughly a platoon). Standard platoon composition included a command U, a strike U, two defensive Us, and a support U, though configurations varied by objective. This flexibility gave Atrisian commanders significant tactical adaptability.
Four such platoons formed a company of one hundred. Ten companies made a regiment. Larger formations existed at two, three, and five thousand, with the pinnacle being a full army of ten thousand. Special units like the Royal Fusiliers operated on even tighter elite structures.
A tray clattered onto the table in front of him. Blam looked up to see Alpha-17 — the legendary ARC trainer himself — dropping into the opposite seat with a smirk.
"Getting enlightened, Commander?" Puck asked, poking Blam's datapad with his fork.
"Something like that," Blam replied, sliding the pad over so the others could see. "These Atrisians run their clones differently. More selective. More competitive. Their 'U' system looks flexible. Could learn a thing or two."
Lucky leaned in. "Jar'Kai dual-wielders in their elite swordsman units too. Sounds like they'd give General Skywalker a run for his money in close quarters."
Devil chuckled darkly. "As long as they're not shooting at us, I'm all for studying the competition."
Icepick remained quiet, but his eyes scanned the files with intense focus. Alpha-17 simply nodded, chewing his own meal. "The General sent us because he trusts us to see what others might miss. Stay sharp. This isn't just a diplomatic joyride."
Blam closed the datapad. The CR90 hummed steadily through hyperspace. Ahead lay the Atrisian Commonwealth — an ancient, proud, isolationist power. If they could bring even a portion of that strength into the Republic's fold, *Spear of Light* might be met with something the Separatists could never anticipate.
**Scene 2: Diplomatic Convoy – Nearing Velovia**
Fleet Admiral Dittmar stood on the bridge of the lead Venator, hands clasped behind his back as the small diplomatic flotilla continued its journey. To their left and right, two Atrisian frigates maintained perfect escort formation. These vessels had relieved a pair of Republic Marauder corvettes at the Illodi rendezvous point.
The Atrisian frigates were imposing — roughly four hundred fifty meters long, nearly three times the length of the CR90s they had replaced. Their hulls had a solid, heavy appearance, almost like flattened iron bars. Up to twenty large-caliber twin cannon mounts were clearly visible. If they were turbolasers, they were likely Class VIII or X — possibly even heavy Class II. By comparison, Venators carried heavy Class V and medium Class VIII weaponry. Hangar doors suggested a substantial fighter complement, though exact numbers and capabilities remained unknown.
In the Republic, ships of this size would be classified as cruisers. For the Atrisians, size seemed determined more by endurance requirements than arbitrary class definitions. Long-distance travel through the Deep Core demanded greater fuel reserves and redundant systems.
"Attention," the navigation officer announced. "Exiting hyperspace in five… four… three… two… one."
The starlines snapped back into points of light. The convoy emerged near Velovia, the first major planet on their route through Commonwealth space. Immediately, two three-kilometer-long behemoths — unmistakably Arimajiro-class battleships — led a massive squadron toward them in a breathtaking display of coordination. The formation maneuvered not just forward and back, but sideways, vertically, and diagonally with astonishing precision, never once risking collision. Additional maneuvering thrusters on par with main drives clearly explained their size and agility.
In total, nearly a hundred warships formed the welcoming escort, with smaller squadrons darting between the larger vessels. The sheer scale and discipline were impressive.
Ten seconds later, a holographic image materialized on the bridge. An older Atrisian officer with sharp, distinguished features and traditional East Asian features appeared. His black tunic with white piping, gold aiguillette, and peaked cap gave him an air of quiet authority.
"Greetings, Republic ambassadors," the officer said in flawless Basic. "I am Admiral Bi Tedan, commander of the Twenty-Eighth Fleet."
Dittmar offered a respectful bow. "Good day, Admiral. I am Fleet Admiral Dittmar, speaking on behalf of Grand Master Dagon Marek of the Galactic Republic."
A younger Atrisian captain beside Tedan raised an eyebrow. "Dagon Marek? You mean the Demon of the Shield — the one who took a nuke to the face?"
Puck, monitoring from the side, couldn't resist. "Not exactly, sir. He stopped the nuke in a Force bubble and flung it back into space."
Dittmar suppressed a smile and continued examining the transmission. The officers in the background wore varied uniforms — some white with black piping, others with bright orange stripes matching their warships' livery. The room itself could have been either a command center or bridge; it was difficult to tell.
"I trust your journey has been uneventful?" Admiral Tedan inquired politely.
"Quite smooth, thank you," Dittmar replied. "We appreciate the escort."
"Then I will not delay you further. Continue on your way to Atrisia. They are already expecting you there."
The channel closed. Dittmar exhaled slowly, turning to his staff. "Impressive discipline. Their coordination in that formation was flawless. Make note of everything — ship movements, sensor readings, anything we can gather."
Blam and the ARC troopers exchanged glances. The Atrisians were clearly a force to be reckoned with. Their isolationism had preserved a powerful, self-sufficient military culture that could tip the scales of the war if brought into alliance.
As the convoy proceeded toward Kitel-Fard under Atrisian escort, Dittmar allowed himself a moment of cautious optimism. Convincing this ancient Commonwealth to abandon centuries of isolation would not be easy. But if anyone could forge such a partnership, it was the Dragon of the Republic.
Far behind them, in the Core, the countdown to *Spear of Light* continued. Every new ally, every new technological insight, brought the Republic one step closer to surviving the coming storm.