"Great Commander, give me five days and the Evona—Dragon can turn Ryloth into Tatooine."
The moment Max even floated the idea of orbital bombardment, Brown—the Hutt captain of the Dragon—practically sprang out of his seat.
"Captain Brown," Max pressed both hands downward, "sit. Sit. I'm not trying to destroy Ryloth. I'm talking about using altitude and firing arcs to hit multiple predesignated targets scattered across the surface in a short time. Can the Dragon do that?"
"We can!" Brown was practically glowing—he seemed weirdly enthusiastic about orbital bombardment. "Once we enter synchronous orbit, we don't even need to move. We can strike any target directly below us across 42.5% of the planet's total surface area. Change bombardment stations twice, and we can hit the whole world!"
The Dor'bulla-class heavy cruiser mounted 20 heavy twin turbolasers, 20 point-defense laser cannons, 10 heavy ion cannons, twelve 8-tube proton torpedo launchers, and four tractor beam projectors. Purely in terms of shipboard firepower, it sat somewhere between the later Venator-class Star Destroyer and the Providence-class Star Destroyer (the 1,088-meter variant).
But the Venator could carry 192 V-19 Torrents or V-wings, 192 Jedi starfighters, 36 ARC-170s, and 20 LAAT/i gunships. And the Providence could carry 120 Vulture droids, 120 tri-fighters, and 10 Hyena bombers—both could serve as true carriers.
The Dor'bulla-class, on the other hand, could only carry 36 Kimogila heavy starfighters (the Dragon actually carried 26) and twelve Seltiss-1 Caravels. Its carrier operations were nowhere near a Venator's or a Providence's.
The reason was simple: Hutt luxury. The Dor'bulla wasted too much internal volume on indulgent living and entertainment suites, leaving less room for hangars and support infrastructure.
Still, for orbital bombardment, you mainly needed big guns—not a carrier wing. The Dor'bulla might be flawed, but it was good enough.
"Report!"
"Go."
"Second Fleet: all personnel except essential watchstanders are connected to the conference network."
"Copy." Max glanced at the time and nodded. "Notify everyone—conference begins in five minutes. On the minute."
The all-hands commander's conference was mostly about clarifying the new tasking. There'd be motivation, sure, but they wouldn't linger on it—they'd already done the pre-war talk.
So first: money.
Only after Ryloth's slavers and drug traffickers were wiped out could they create a safe commercial environment and move to the next step—economic expansion. And that would generate massive profits for Bespin (and for Corellian and New Mandalorian partners, too).
A Mandalorian warrior in the Bespin Mandalorian Armed Forces was, in practical terms, like an employee holding equity in a joint-stock corporation.
Every Mandalorian who had followed Max to build Cloud City held a certain number of virtual restricted shares in the Bespin Mandalorian Armed Forces. Those shares entitled them to dividends at a set proportion, and to the corresponding appreciation in Bespin's net assets.
Holders of those virtual restricted shares also had voting rights on major strategic decisions—like shareholders. But these were not transferable corporate shares; Mandalorian holders were not allowed to sell or trade them.
Max's veteran core and his enterprise rose and fell together. Take Ryloth, and everyone gets to eat. Fail, and everyone goes hungry.
For the Rishi recruits and the Dragon's crew, it was even simpler. Take Ryloth, and there are bonuses. Fail, and it's just hazard pay—no bonus pool.
Then: ambition.
Once Ryloth was secured, Bespin would inevitably need a permanent garrison to protect its economic interests. That meant promotions—real ones. From trooper to local-unit NCO leadership, from mid-grade officer posts to planet-level command appointments. The next rung was right there.
And zoom out further: rebuilding Rishi, restoring Mandalore (or even the Hutt clans' old power), defending justice in the galaxy—none of it starts without winning the fight in front of you.
When the meeting started, the officers exchanged salutes. Then Max went straight to business.
"Because of the new situation—the Jedi Order has dispatched a diplomatic envoy to Ryloth, arriving in five days to mediate the war—we are changing the plan. We end this fast. We cleanse Ryloth of the Zygerrian slavers and the Pyke traffickers before the Jedi envoy arrives."
"I intend for the Dragon to conduct orbital strikes on 38 Zygerrian bases, 514 strongpoints of various sizes, 24 ryll mines, and 7 ryll refining plants—reduce them to ash." Max turned to Brown. "Captain Brown. Can you do it?"
"We can!" Brown slammed the table with confidence. "Eight hours. We guarantee every target is erased!"
"You get twenty-four." Max waved a hand. "Make multiple passes. Make sure the effect sticks."
"Yes, Great Commander!"
"Second Fleet—every ship and fighter element: abort current tasking. You are now air-defense cover for the Dragon."
"Dragon's Kimogila wing: abort current tasking. You are now close air support for the marines."
"Naval marines: company-by-company, conduct battlefield cleanup on bombarded targets and eliminate surviving pockets."
"That's the outline. Five minutes for open discussion. After that, questions—raise your hand."
Five minutes later, the first hand up was the Mandalorian commander of Naval Marines 101st Regiment, Jaron Dale.
"Sir. Why not detain the Jedi diplomatic envoy—hold them under protective custody?"
Max motioned calmly. "Commander Dale. Why do you want that? What do you think we gain?"
"Sir—having Rishi recruits spend two days sweeping ruins and finishing off half-stunned survivors isn't much of a training value. If we weren't racing the clock—if we didn't need orbital bombardment—then the recruits could fight real battles. Field combat. Urban combat. That's real training. So I recommend we detain the envoy, cancel orbital bombardment, let us clear the enemy the hard way, then release the envoy after."
"This is the Way." "This is the Way." "This is the Way." ...
The 101st roared in support.
"Real combat opportunities will come," Max said flatly. "There's no need to make an enemy of the Jedi Order for that. Request denied. Next."
Next to speak was Odo Bohm, squadron leader of Second Fleet's Fang-wing Flamingo Squadron.
"Sir—does that mean our air-combat exercise with Kite Squadron is canceled?"
"Yes." Max nodded. "We're no longer 'supporting' the Pykes. Later, I'll send the Pyke Syndicate a formal notice with sharp language—charging them with concealing their collusion with Zygerrian slavers, using narcotics to control Twi'leks, and aiding slaving operations. Fraudulent contracts are voidable. Corellian Beskar Steel Security isn't in breach. Next."
...
"Meeting adjourned. Everybody to stations—prepare for battle!"
"This is the Way."
PS: Compared to Legends, new canon substantially nerfs Star Destroyers and orbital bombardment (though it's still terrifying).
In Legends, a single main-battery shot from an Acclamator-class assault ship is described at roughly two hundred billion tons of TNT equivalent—about 4,000 Tsar Bombas.
A Star Destroyer conducting orbital bombardment on a habitable planet could, in relatively short order, strip the atmosphere, boil off the soil, and peel away the crust—turning a living world into a newborn volcanic hell. Tatooine once had vast oceans—it was turned into a desert world by Rakatan orbital bombardment.
In new canon, orbital bombardment is still enough to devastate the surface, but it doesn't reliably crack the crust.
In 19 BBY, General Grievous ordered a Providence-class dreadnought (the 2,177.35-meter variant) to bombard Ord Mantell to hit Maul's Shadow Collective. The bombardment flattened surface structures in the target area, but it failed to effectively kill members sheltering in underground bunkers.
PPS: The "virtual restricted shares" concept here is adapted from modern real-world RSU-style incentive structures, plus a popular time-travel fiction "how-to" appendix the author cites in the original.
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