Commander Cienna Ree
"All first-stage pilots, prepare for launch! Repeat, all first-stage pilots, prepare for launch."
My leg bounced impatiently as I did another pre-flight check. The Twin-Ion engine hummed, a rattle emanating from behind my seat. I had been stuck in my TIE Fighter for the better part of two hours, waiting for the orders to launch from the bridge. Ever since communications went down, we were reliant on our orders from couriers and the intercom system - not that either had given us much news. A bombing had separated the Conqueror from the space station - Black-something or other - and Tullius was unaccounted for. Par for the course, I was coming to realize, but all this waiting was getting the better of me.
A ping grabbed my attention, Crimson-5 was trying to get my attention. I tapped my communication unit, opening a channel with him.
"Go ahead, Fulow." I said, bringing my hand back to the yoke.
"Commander, flight crews just entered the deck."
Crimson Squadron had most of its strength recovered, now a nine-fighter strong wing rather than three. With Hamne still out of action, I had been uplifted to take over the squadron and its new members. Discounting me as Crimson-Lead, Marie as Crimson-Two, and Kurmen "The Shuttle Pilot" Udina as Crimson-Three, our other members were sourced from the Steadfast.
Noma Sel, a tall man from Chandrilla, flew as Crimson-4. As all of the pilots coming over from the Steadfast were TIE Fighter pilots, there was little need for acclimatization. Sel favored himself something of a jack-of-all-trades, doubling as a shuttle pilot on the Steadfast as well and having trained for several snub craft. His experience put him as the head of Crimson's second flight, though Marie remained my second-in-command if only through time spent. A few months was hardly enough to establish a close bond, but Marie and I had fought together - that was more than what could be said for the rest of them.
He was joined by Haar Fulow and Rayella Klilt, Crimson-5 and Crimson-6 respectively. Fulow was a dour, bookish man who was at odds with the more personable Sel and Klilt. A peak at his records indicated that the man was a conscript, though he had remained with the navy long past his service requirements. Klilt meanwhile was cocky, confident to the point of arrogance - not that it was unearned. She had scored half the total kills of her squadron at Bakura and had the grudging confidence of Sel. Though, privately, Sel had confided in me that Klilt had been a problem for their former commander.
The third flight was the domain of Wer Bintir, a reliable man of few accolades but a competent enough leader. Crimson-7, as he was called now, led the remaining Crimson-8 and Crimson-9 - Rordam Pals and "Little Wyatdrew" Dorn.
At Fulow's words, I peered over the controls of my fighter and down into the hangar bay. Sure enough, the grey-uniformed flight crew was scattered around - signaling to each other and the operators for the TIE Fighter racks.
"Look's like we're back in business," I said, leaning back again and settling my leg. Just in time, as a new voice butt into the channel.
"Crimson-Leader, this is HTC. Communications are back online. Please confirm you are receiving." The droll voice of the hangar controller filled my ears, and that was exactly what I had been waiting for.
"I am receiving, HTC."
"We are forwarding a flight path to you now. Your squadron will launch in order of flights - rapid launch. Confirm."
"Ordered launch, by flight, rapid deploy. Understood."
I quickly changed my communicator over to the squadron channel, greeted by an eager silence as the team seemed to realize what was going on.
"Listen up, communications are back online. Command is feeding us flight paths - get ready for rapid deployment. I'm setting up a nav point on the port side of the Conqueror, regroup there." The assembled pilots affirmed their understanding of my orders, and soon we were flooding out of the hangar bay. My HUD flickered to life, filling with a veritable sea of multi-colored lights before reducing back down to the ships of Arrowhead Command.
I brought my fighter into a turn, climbing up and leveling out over the Conqueror's portside surface guns. The vessel still bore her scars from Bakura and Endor, but she appeared operable. Marie and Udina hugged my wings, following me out of the hangar. We were joined in short order by the second and third flights, holding near the dull grey hulk of the Conqueror.
We were warned away not too long after, scattered as the Conqueror revealed how exactly it planned to escape Black-15. I had to hope Captain Tullius made it off of the station, as the Star Destroyer opened fire with its surface turrets. Bright lances of green pummelled the unshielded side of Black-15, the bolts detonating and ripping the hull apart. The docking bay that the Conqueror was formerly attached to fell apart like so much sheet metal. The indiscriminate bombardment did not end there, as the guns turned next to the clamps attached to the sides of the ship. Tractor beam ports above the former docking bay were next, as if to make sure nothing was going to keep the Conqueror from her escape.
"Shooting a station he's docked with?" Kurmen wondered aloud, "Sounds like Tullius."
I kept my own comment to myself, slowly bringing my fighter around to watch as the Conqueror's massive engines flared to life. Were we not in space, I might have heard the tremendous shriek of metal being wrenched free as the Star Destroyer pulled away.
The ship twisted, or as best as it could with its maneuvering jets, scraping its bow against the stern of the neighboring Star Destroyer. There was another set of brilliant flashes as the Conqueror opened up with a full broadside of turbolaser fire against the engine blocks of the other two interred Star Destroyers. I blinked in surprise, the automatic dimming in my helmet protecting my eyes from the flash.
"What is he doing?!" Crimson-6 demanded, her voice dumbfounded. I opened my mouth to respond but was beaten by Marie.
"Asset denial - the situation on the station must be bad."
My HUD flashed as new orders were fed to us from the Conqueror. A glimmering blue diamond flickered to life over the Star Destroyer, assigning us to intercept duty as the Star Destroyer raced for the rest of the section.
"Fall in, Crimson, and sound off," I ordered. All chattered fell silence as the three flights formed up around me, following my lead in the wake of the Conqueror. I let the voices of my squadron wash over me, already having committed their callsigns to memory and not expecting any surprising reports. We overtook the Conqueror quickly enough, cutting our speed and drifting under the considerable mass of the vessel.
The section grew larger before us, moving in a silent dance as they got into position. New data moved into my feed, crimson diamonds jumping to life over the far more distant forms ahead. Three Star Destroyers, two close with another on its way. The latecomer was being chased by a horde of triangles, supporting ships.
"Are we fighting other Imps?" Came the alarmed tone of Crimson-5, the most emotion I had heard from him yet.
"I don't think they're here to say 'hello' Fulow." Crimson-6, recovered from watching the Conqueror reduce a section of Black-15 to molten slag, said. They were both told off by Crimson-4, his voice stern.
The Conqueror reached the line, siddling up next to the Intimidation. Far from stopping, the ship barely slowed down as the other Star Destroyer burned its engines hard to catch up. The whole section raced in the wake of the duo, a repeat of Tullius's last tactic on Bakura. Instead of smaller, more fragile cruisers though, Tullius was aiming to charge into the face of other Star Destroyers. I tightened my hands around the yoke of my fighter, already feeling the adrenaline rushing into my veins.
Dozens of red squares flew out from the underside of the Star Destroyer pair, quickly combining into larger squares to designate groups before separating into smaller again. Within minutes, we were outnumbered. Not as badly outnumbered as over Bakura, but these weren't cheap droid starfighters. TIE Fighters to the last, Imperial pilots or not this was going to be tough.
New orders flickered across my gaze, and I was quick to relay them.
"Titan and Cobalt Squadron are taking the Conqueror's topside, so the keel is ours. Crimson-4, starboard. Crimson-7, port. Two and three, we stay in the middle."
The second and third flights broke off at my words, drifting a little ways away before straightening out and matching our pace. Alarms flashed across my view, the distance between the two sides rapidly dropping as they met Tullius's charge. Long-range turbolasers were the first to open up, both sides firing great bolts of plasma from their batteries. One bolt slid under the bow of the Conqueror and detonated on the underside of its armor, leaving an angry dark score on the durasteel. I blinked, briefly distracted from the light show. The Conqueror's shields should have stopped that turbolaser bolt, or at least turned it aside. For the bolt to hit the armor directly…
"Hostile TIEs are incoming," Kurmen warned severely, "Standard fighter and bomber formations."
"Stay close to the command ship and watch your wingman," I ordered, cutting power to the engines and rerouting the excess into the laser cannons, "Crimson-4, Crimson-7, priority on any Fighters. My flight will focus on bomber interception."
The leaders were quick to affirm my orders before we returned to a tense silence. The void lit up as the two Victory cruisers unleashed a barrage of missiles. The incoming fighter swarm scattered their formation, likely fearing cluster munitions, only for them to be bypassed. Brilliant flashes erupted distantly as the two opposing Star Destroyers took the barrage head-on - their particle shields dissipating the damage.
"Would have preferred if those were anti-fighter," Kurmen muttered.
"Chin up, Kurmen. Means more for us," Marie mocked the other pilot, though her voice was not unkind. I let them have their fun while watching the first stage of the engagement unfold - the Lancer Frigates opening up with their longer-ranged batteries and interrupting the hostile formation. Unlike at Bakura, vast swathes of the incoming fighter force were not cut away. The pilots were clever and aware enough to avoid the fire, but that would not be the case the closer they got.
"Yeah, that's the part I'm worried about."
"Attention all flight commanders," The voice of Matread cut off communication, "Priority targeting is placed on anti-ship fighters - the Conqueror does not have shields at this time. I repeat, priority is on bomber craft."
My fears confirmed, I grit my teeth behind my helmet and tighten my fingers around my fighter controls. Without shields and against other Star Destroyers, the Conqueror would be mauled. Yet, as insane as the plan was, I didn't see much in terms of options. A third destroyer and assorted supporting craft were en route, and the situation on the Conqueror would only be marginally better than it was now if the Star Destroyer was relying on a cold start. The Arrowhead ships had the advantage in firepower in close range against two lone Star Destroyers, but that would not mean much if the Conqueror was destroyed before she reached the front.
"Lead?" Crimson-4 asked.
"Mission stays the same - keep those fighters off of us, and we'll handle the bombers."
"Sir."
The incoming craft met the next line of defenses, the Blastboats. Like at Bakura, they raced ahead of the formation and unleashed a payload of ship-to-ship missiles and torpedoes. Unlike Bakura, they were not nearly as successful. Individual fighters broke off, trying to outrun the missiles locked onto them, while groups were already too spread out for bursting torpedoes to take out more than one or two craft. It was clear this engagement would be a dogfight.
Minutes crawled by, and then my display lit up - contact.
"Seven craft, two fighters, and five bombers, coming in fast and low." I announced, looking 'down' through the floor of my fighter. I shoved my control forward, pushing my fighter into a dive. I didn't stop to check to see if Marie and Kurmen were following me, trusting that they had my back.
"Make that four bombers, thank you, Lancers." Kurmen announced as one of the incoming hostiles vanished. Unfortunately, the Lancer Frigate in question was poorly positioned to assist us with these incoming strike craft.
"Engaging," Crimson-4 announced. Given the angle of attack, they reached the fighters before we did. The trio of TIE Fighters unleashed bursts of green bolts, forcing the hostile fighters to scatter their formation. The escorting fighter holding the right of the formation vanished in a violent burst, its wings twisting forward and slamming together as the cockpit vanished under the fire. The other broke formation, narrowly dodging its destruction before racing away. Crimson-4's flight gave chase, though they took a few cheeky potshots at the bombers as they passed. None of them managed to land a hit, but they forced the bombers to cut their already slow speed and avoid the fire.
An alarm squawked in the cockpit as I was targeted by a bomber, but I paid little attention. I took the lead bomber into my sights just as he brought me into his targeting. My thumb pressed down as a bright burst of plasma raced out from my fighter before I was forced to slam my stick to one side and avoid the return fire. A concussion missile followed behind the Bomber's laser fire but given the speed of my dive and the turning radius of a conc, I didn't have to worry about it turning around and giving chase.
I put my fighter into a turn even before the two sides passed each other, wanting to bring myself about and behind the bombers as quickly as possible. I set my lips into a thin line as a notice flashed on my display, one kill - three left. Marie and Kurmen had bowed out before they got in range to fire, clearly avoiding their own concussion missiles and not wanting to risk it. Marie had followed suit with me, turning before we met the bombers, while Kurmen was seconds too late. As Marie and I turned, Kurmen blasted past the Bombers. A glance at my display warned me that Kurmen had just slammed his engines into a reverse thrust to try and turn around faster, neutralizing any energy he had left. I bit back a condemnation, there would be plenty of time to chew him out when we were back on the Conqueror - for now, Marie and I had a job to do.
Behind the bombers now, it was easy to catch up with them. Marie splashed a bomber of his own, catching it on the back of its cockpit and causing the remains of the fighter to split in half and spin-off in opposite directions.
I was next, racing behind my target and squeezing off a burst of fire - only for the bomber to jink to one side at the last moment! My bolts went wide and I cursed, forced to cut my speed before I blew past him. The other two bombers continued at their speed, Marie chasing after them with her guns blazing.
I fired again, only for the little bastard to dodge the other way!
"Fine," I snapped, yanking my fighter to follow him into the turn. But instead of firing, I pushed my stick the other way - catching the bomber as he tried to avoid my shots before I fired them. He realized his mistake a half-second too late, and I slammed my thumb down to fire. He dodged into this burst, shuddering as he failed to decide whether he should try to abort the move or commit to it. My burst caught the munitions storage of the bomber and it vanished in a brilliant white flash. I grinned, an animalistic and cruel thing, as I slammed the throttle forward and raced after the rest.
"Lead, you have two flights coming in at your three - all fighters," Crimson-7 announced drolly.
"I see them," I snap, glancing at the sensor data being fed to my fighter. Six pings were approaching rapidly on my right, and I was sure if I looked I would see them on an intercept course, "Crimson-4?"
"Moving, but we aren't going to make it in time."
"Understood," I said after a heartbeat, before turning my attention back to Marie, "Marie, stop playing with them - we've got company!"
As I spoke, Marie hit the second-last bomber, tearing through its cockpit and sending the craft into an uncontrolled spin. The last bomber had given up any pretense of dodging and was putting everything it had left into speed - trying to get in range to fire on the Conqueror.
My computer screamed again as I was targeted by the incoming fighters. I looked from the display to the form of Marie's TIE ahead.
"Marie?"
"Just… One… More… Second…" She said, catching up with the bomber. I wrenched my TIE around, ignoring the strain warnings for the wings and engine, and faced the incoming fighters. I was cutting it close, evidenced by the hail of laser bolts I was forced to dodge. I couldn't bring any of the incoming TIE Fighters into my targeting sights, so I sprayed blindly as I spun. The two flights screamed passed as I desperately tried to turn myself around again. Again, the TIE Fighter's status flashed in the corner of my view, warning me about the undue stress I was putting the craft under.
Damned TIEs, I thought bitterly, Like flying a refrigerator!
That was not completely fair to the TIE Fighter, it was an agile craft - but it had nothing on the TIE Interceptor.
I bit back a curse as one flight broke off - turning themselves to face me. The other three burned ahead, racing for Marie.
"... Bomber splashed, all bombers destroy- Damn!" The status indicator for Marie flashed brightly, she was hit.
"Status?" I demanded as I completed my turn, now facing three of my own TIE Fighters.
"Hit! But I'm still flying - damn, these bastards are all over me, Lead!"
"On my way," I responded, squeezing the trigger down and spraying the incoming fighters before my targeting could fully come online. Two shots went wide and the third narrowly missed as the enemy fighter jinked aside. A squawk told me they had a lock, but before I had the chance to throw myself into a dodge of my own, the lead fighter detonated. Green lances tore through it from below, its remaining wingman cutting left to avoid Kurmen as he blitzed past.
"That's one!" Kurmen cheered, all but cackling to himself as his fighter ripped around to follow the other wingman. I let him have his victory as I fired on the third fighter, which had cut its speed to avoid my initial volley.
"Lead," Crimson-7 again, his voice strained, "Another wing of bombers, twelve - and another flight of escorts!"
As he spoke, contacts filled my sensors - low and behind me. What, were the Lancers on sabbatical?! I turned my head, looking back and letting my display feed me information. The bombers were split into two groups, with three TIE Fighters at the front. As one, they broke formation and raced toward me and Kurmen. A glance told me Crimson-4 was on his way to help Marie, who was being chased around by the three other TIEs from the second group.
"Crimson-7, status?" I asked but realized there would be no help from that angle before the man could speak. Crimson-7 and his flight were locked in an engagement with another flight of TIEs that were trying to lead them out from under the Conqueror.
"Busy, Lead!" The man grunted, and I watched as his fighter suddenly cut its speed and got behind its pursuer. I looked forward again to watch as Marie spun wildly away from her pursuers - who were engaged by Crimson-4 now. I bit the inside of my cheek, before bringing my fighter back around and aiming toward the incoming bombers and fighters.
"Kurmen?" I asked, wondering where he went before his fighter drifted in next to mine.
"TIE splashed, Lead." The man sounded far too pleased with himself, though to be fair these were his first combat kills.
"Eyes front, Crimson-3," I warned, "We're going after those bombers."
"... And the fighters?"
"Ignore them. If those bombers reach the Conqueror, they'll gut it. She doesn't have shields up."
"... She what-"
"Focus up, Kurmen!" I snapped, and that was all the warning he had as the leading three TIE Fighters opened fire on us. I put myself into a roll, dodging as best I could without sacrificing my speed. I couldn't check what Kurmen was doing, but his continued green status indicated he was at least not destroyed.
Spinning as I was, I knew damn well I wasn't going to hit anything - but I fired all the same. No hits, and as I flew past the hostile TIE Fighters I was faced with a new problem. The targeting warning did not dissipate, even as the TIE Bombers unleashed a barrage of concussion missiles. The two groups of bombers were too far apart to engage at the same time, so I had to hope Kurmen was engaging the second group.
The concs hurtled by, some closer than others (I smirked as one of the hostile fighters vanished from my sensor screen - caught in friendly fire) but I couldn't stop my erratic approach as the bombers next fired with their laser cannons. I pulled hard to the right, escaping my spin and several near-hits from the Bombers. The two surviving hostile TIE Fighters had broken their pursuit entirely, clearly spooked by the destruction of their fellow. With the two surviving escorts on me, Kurmen should be able to attack with impunity. I couldn't look back, so I focused on bringing my TIE back around.
The Bombers, like the first group, decided to charge the Conqueror rather than try to engage or throw me off. All the easier for me, as I yanked my fighter into position and let the targeting computer do the rest. The first Bomber vanished in a flash, making its neighbor jink right in a wild movement to avoid the shrapnel of its former wingmate. Yet, before I could bring the next bomber into my sights, one of the TIE Fighters screamed in on my eight o'clock. I 'dove', which on the galactic plane now put my parallel with the Conqueror and dodged the burst of plasma that followed. I yanked my control this way and that, throwing the other pilot's aim off as I tracked the bombers.
Can't do a damn thing with this guy on me, I thought, eyes open for the other fighter - it was with the bombers, escorting them the rest of the way. Crimson-4's flight had destroyed one of their opponents and were mobbing the last two, while Crimson-7 appeared to be fighting an comically large number of enemy TIEs. We had drifted away from the Conqueror, both buying us time to splash the bombers and keeping us away from support.
Fine, I grabbed the throttle and slammed it back, forcing the engine to completely reverse the fighter's thrust. An invisible envelope of ion particles scattered around my craft and toward the front. My speed dropped suddenly, the enemy fighter pulling up and away as he realized what I was doing. Or he thought he realized what I was doing in any case. I spun my fighter around before jetting the throttle forward again. The ion engine was no doubt screaming against this abuse, but I launched forward like I was fired out of a turbolaser battery. I pulled back hard on the controls, finding myself on the distant tails of the five surviving bombers. My TIE was fast, but they had a considerable head start on me.
I caught up to the straggler, the one whose wingman I had destroyed earlier, and took out his payload with a short burst of my laser cannons. The corpse of the fighter hurtled by as I raced ahead, paying his explosive end little mind as I bore down on the next bomber. Number three fell shortly after, with only three ahead of me. The last TIE Fighter had broken off, moving toward Kurmen-
A laser cannon bolt flew between my cockpit and wing, nearly striking the connecting arm. I cursed and instinctively jinked right, avoiding two following blasts that went way wide. I looked back, wondering how the other TIE had caught up - only to realize he hadn't. He was blind firing, trying to distract me, and it had worked.
I looked ahead, feeling my heart drop as the distance between me and the Conqueror quickly lowered - and the Bombers were getting ahead of me.
A light beep warned me of a new sensor contact - one that separated from the mess of nearby fighters. As I raced after the bombers, I was only given a couple of moments to consider what I was looking at before the right Bomber was slammed into by a proton torpedo. It detonated, throwing its neighbor off the pursuit. Bright white ion cannon bursts hit the second, its engines flickering off as the Bomber lost all power. A massive Blastboat hurtled ahead, its grey frame covered in carbon scoring but its weapons roaring furiously all the same. I am not ashamed to say that I whooped with joy, smiling like a madwoman.
"You're late, you brilliant bastard!" I said to no one in particular as the Skipray dispatched the last bomber with a burst from its laser cannons, continuing in the direction of the Conqueror's engines as if this were just a stop on its actual objective.
I got ready to turn and deal with this last fighter when I turned my gaze right. Three bombers were still moving up toward the Conqueror, Kurmen's fighter spinning away - his status indicated he'd been hit. Where the last hostile TIE Fighter went was anyone's guess, but the last three bombers were on their final approach on the Conqueror. My victorious joy soon turned to horror, even as I turned my fighter to give chase.
"All units," I tuned my communicator to speak to every member of Crimson, "Three bombers broke through - they are almost in range! Break off your engagements, after them!"
Almost as one, the remainder of Crimson Squadron turned and blasted after the bombers. I was too far behind to catch up, Crimson-4's flight and Marie were too far away. Crimson-7 disengaged first from his dogfight and - with three enemy TIEs on his tail - raced for the bombers. A burst from his laser cannons, and one bomber peeled away in flames. A second burst and - miss.
He didn't have the chance to fire a third.
The pair of bombers - tantalizingly close - unleashed their payloads. Proton hurtled from the bombers, their momentum carrying them up into the Conqueror's exposed underside. I sucked in a breath as they hit and, with a brilliant flash, the armor of the Conqueror was wrenched open.
Despite its lack of shields at the moment, the Conqueror was still immensely armored - especially on its underside. Two bombers would be unable to break the flat armored hull in most cases, so they targeted the one weak point in that solid sheet of durasteel. The hangar bay. The underside of the main TIE landing bay seemed to ripple as the bombs exploded before a hole was punched through the durasteel. Metal debris flew in every direction, as whatever was unsecured in the hangar was ripped out into space. Trams, power droids, a single TIE Fighter, bodies - whatever wasn't caught in the explosion itself.
I grit my teeth, clearly those last hundreds of meters and blasting both bombers for the trouble. Lost in their victory or something to that extent, the first bomber didn't react to being hit and the second only started to turn off.
I brought my TIE back in a spin, rose under Crimson-7's pursuers, and let loose another burst from my laser cannons. Two vanished under my attack, with the last being mobbed by Crimson-7's wingmen. Crimson Squadron regrouped as the last of the enemy TIE Fighters cut their losses and ran - but the evidence of our failure was clear. Flying a little ways behind the hangar bay, I could look up and see the damage. The shield that separated the atmosphere from the void was gone - the floor bowed up from the force of the bombs. A pair of lambda shuttles were visible or was what was left of them in any case.
It wasn't completely devastating from a combat perspective - TIE Fighters could still land and be shuffled back to the launch bays without atmo, but this exposed a weakness now in the armor of the Star Destroyer.
"Crimson-2, what's your status," I asked Marie, checking over the status of my fighters.
"I'm… Green, lead. Got hairy for a bit there, but I'm still flying."
"I saw you got hit earlier," I said, not completely believing the other woman.
"... Hostiles tagged me in a pass, but the damage appears to be minimal."
"There's a hole in your left wing," Crimson-4 butt in, his tone brooking no argument. I pulled back on my throttle and the let the squadron pass me by. Even without the IFF codes, I would have recognized Marie's TIE Fighter - and true to Crimson-4's words, a massive hole had been ripped through her left wing panel. The same hit had nearly torn through the arm of her fighter if the angle of attack was what it appeared.
"That doesn't look green, Two. Break off and get back to the Conqueror, get a new fighter if you can," I ordered, though I was hesitant to send my other wingman off. Crimson-3 continued to spin away from the Conqueror, his fighter no longer sending status reports. It was marked as "destroyed" on my display. Still, I sent a request to the Conqueror for pick-up.
"... Copy lead, breaking formation." Marie's TIE broke off and swung to the left, heading for the port hangar bay. She sounded none too happy about that order.
"Crimson-3, do you copy? What's your status?" I did not expect a response, yet the lack of one was still disheartening. After a few seconds, I spoke again, "Crimson-3, if you are reading this, sit tight. The Conqueror will send someone to collect you."
Nothing more needed to be said, nothing more could be said. The engagement lasted long enough that the Star Destroyers had closed into range to fire their main batteries - turbolaser bolts impacted shields and armor in a dizzying array of light. The Conqueror faced down the ship labelled Unbroken, while the Intimidation dueled the Avarice.
As we were under the Conqueror, I couldn't see the turbolaser bolts impacting the top of the Star Destroyer. But given the pure firepower being thrown in its direction, and the current state of the Conqueror's shields, it was not an equal exchange.
The Conqueror dragged its bow down suddenly, dipping beneath the Unbroken in its charge so suddenly that my mind was cast back to Endor. Had the bridge been lost, was the Star Destroyer out of control? No answer came, and soon the Unbroken disappeared from view as the Conqueror dove. New orders reached us soon thereafter, the severe voice of Matread crackling over comms.
"Crimson Squadron, Hammerhead Squadron is deploying from the Intimidation. Escort them in their attack run." So Matread was alive, at the very least. I confirmed our orders before relaying them to the squadron. We broke from the Conqueror's protective bulk, our place being taken by a pack of Blastboats, and darted for the other Star Destroyer resided.
As a counter to the Conqueror, the Intimidation moved alongside its opponent and caught it in a deadly broadside battle. Ion cannons and heavy turbolasers peppered the Avarice while the eight-barreled monsters on the opposing Star Destroyer sent volley after devastating volley into the Intimidation's shields. The two ships were slowly turning with each other, neither wanting to let the other get behind them and get a free shot at their engines. This had the knock-on effect of slowly putting the Avarice between the Intimidation and the rest of the 2nd Flank Squadron.
In the brief quiet of our trek to the Intimidation, I was given the chance to realize how bizarre Star Destroyer on Star Destroyer combat was. Both ships were tremendously well-armed, but similarly shielded - neither could break the other in any realistic time frame if they could just focus all their shield power into that one direction. The death spiral the Intimidation and Avarice were locked in was just short of the pair sitting still and firing full frontal volleys at each other. The Intimidation's Commander, Milgern, was at least slightly more intelligent in this regard as he was forcing the Avarice to divide its shields between him and the cruisers. However, instead of capitalizing on the distraction, only a sparse barrage of turbolaser fire was focused on the Avarice.
"Crimson, this is Hammerhead-Lead. You our escort?" A man's voice, vaguely familiar, spoke up as a group of blue diamonds appeared on my display - TIE Bombers.
"That's us, Hammerhead. Your heading is away from the Intimidation," I noted, watching as the pair of Star Destroyers continued to spin and fire.
"Command wants us to rescue the Conqueror first, though I'm wonderin' why? Not unless we're here to save her from secondhand embarrassment."
The reason for Hammerhead's lackadaisical tone was revealed not long after, as Crimson Squadron turned around to escort the slow, trundling bombers.
If the duel between the Intimidation and Avaraice was bizarre, then the "duel" between the Conqueror and Unbroken was downright comical. As it turned out, the Conqueror's maneuver was intentional, and it was slowly completing a circle around the Unbroken. For its part, the Unbroken was equally slowly spinning in place, trying to bring its bow 'down' and fire on the Conqueror. The Conqueror meanwhile peppered the underside of the Unbroken with its surface guns - but neither was able to bring their full firepower into the engagement.
The rest of the 2nd were hanging back, peppering the Unbroken with turbolaser and ion cannon fire. Even the two Victory Star Destroyers, which appeared to be preserving their remaining missiles, were content to harass the Star Destroyer with light turbolaser fire.
And so went the first true engagement between the 2nd Flank Squadron and hostile Star Destroyers.
Captain Rivejer Tullius
"Thank you all for being here today. We haven't a lot of time, so I will be brief."
I was in one of the officer conference rooms close to the bridge, standing against one wall as the room was filled over capacity. There were larger rooms deeper in the ship, but I refused to be more than a short walk from the bridge until we were free of the system.
The crowd was a motley assortment of soldiers and officers. Maab stood to one corner, his expression grim as he studied the men - sans hovering chair as it was unlike to fit. Two other black-uniformed security officers were near him, similarly uncomfortable in the conditions. Everyone else though was combat-focused. The two CompForce operatives had claimed chairs for themselves, their armor still bearing the scars of their fight through Black-15. Similar to Maab, their expressions were grim but with a degree of eager determination. Thin smiles pulled at their lips as they stared at me - I felt distinctly uncomfortable.
All four of the Stormtroopers from Black-15 were present as well, the injured one recovering quickly as his armor had protected him from a blaster bolt hit, and were joined by a half-dozen more. All 501st, if their commander was to be believed - out of a surprising twenty-three total. Many more wanted to come, but this was a matter of security. I would not sacrifice my (stolen) elite Stormtrooper detail on a suicide mission. So, their numbers were reinforced by fourteen Navy Commandos, arranged around the table barring their commanding officer, who was seated next to the Stormtroopers. The last of the group was a pair of Navytrooper officers - adorned in stolen Armytrooper Corps armor.
I brought my datapad up and tapped at its screen, dimming the lights and activating the holotable before us. Unable to reach the table itself and comfortably work at it, this was the next best option.
"This is the Intimidator," I explained unnecessarily as the hologram of the Super Star Destroyer appeared, "An Executor-class Star Dreadnought and the flagship of Black Sword Command. Formerly the flag of Admiral Paret. This vessel, like most in the Black Sword First Fleet, utilizes a large-scale slave-rigging system allowing the ship to be operated at far below the minimum expected crew of a ship this size. It goes without saying that the Yevethans, or anyone outside the Imperial fleet, seizing control of this ship would be disastrous for our operations in the system."
I let my words linger for a moment while I seethed internally, as my preferred operation would be leaving immediately - unfortunately, there was a 7,000-meter thorn in my back that put an end to that plan.
"The potential of seizing control of the ship has been floated, but given its position in the middle of the fleet, it has been deemed an impossibility. Sabotage is our best plan at this stage - denying that asset to our enemies. As such, you will be deployed to the Intimidator to ensure that the Yevethans will have nothing but a floating pile of scrap for their fleet."
I raised my hand in a fist, my other arm still secured tightly to my chest.
"Make no mistake, this operation will be beyond dangerous. You will be isolated from support, in the middle of battle between ships of uncertain loyalties. Many of you are not expected to return. There is no shame in refusing this order, you are all volunteers."
Stars knew I would refuse this operation if given the choice - it wasn't that I expected some of them not to return, I expected none of them to return. It was probable that they all realized this as well, but none of them spoke up - not a one.
They were stronger men than me.
"Good," I said, keeping my tone level as I nodded my head, "Colonel Maab will fill you in on the specifics. Good-" Luck? No… "... Hunting."
I nodded to Maab and slipped to one side, letting him take the front of the room.
"You will be split into two strike forces, standing names of 'Aurek' and 'Besh'. Both teams will be ferried by the Marauder Corvette Stormcaster-"
I slipped alongside the wall, pushing my way out of the room with muttered apologies as Maab addressed the crowd. My part was done, now I had to place my faith in that mismatched band of soldiers with dubious psychological profiles.
A pair of Navytroopers awaited me, so I could not bang my head against the bulkhead like I wanted to. Instead, I quietly led the two men back to the bridge, where the next disaster awaited me.
The rear bridge was a sea of activity again as my usual crew were pulled back to their duty stations. Fortunately, the chaos that gripped us over the last few hours had dissipated to a dull tension. The blast door separating the forward and rear bridges had been opened again, so I could see a similar disquiet settling over Screold's crew as well.
Matread was still at his station, rotund form bent over his console as he quietly conversed with the hangar traffic control. The man's bushy mustache almost appeared to bristle with his agitation as he quietly argued with whoever was on the other side. One of our hangar bays had been obliterated by the Yevethan bombers, though if that were the breadth of our damage. Upon noticing me, he hissed one last comment into the communicator before getting up and moving with surprising swiftness to where I was stood.
"Fighter squadrons got out with minimal casualties," He said in place of a greeting, "Only five losses from the Conqueror, three dead. The Intimidation lost fewer."
"That's good," I noted with a placid tone, walking toward the holo table, "Can we still rearm them in the landing hangar?"
"The TIEs? Sure. We lost two shuttles - the bigger issue was the crew losses. We're already running double shifts, I've been trying to reach Maab about stealing his technicians."
Damn, I thought, Wish I knew about that when I was in the conference room.
Pinning down Maab was always tricky, but I made a mental note to talk to him on behalf of Matread.
"A shame we didn't have more fighters coming in," I said with a sigh, reaching the holotable at last, "Maybe they would have helped with that."
That was a seven-kilometer-long Bellator Star Dreadnought, the Armadia. Its bulky form was trailing after my section, harassing us with periodic bursts from its massive long-range batteries. A single hit would cripple my Star Destroyers, and obliterate anything smaller than the Victory cruisers. Fortunately, at this range, the Conqueror and Intimidation were able to use their deflector shields to cover the smaller vessels.
It had been an err in judgment on my part. I had assumed that, after the two Star Destroyers were destroyed and the incoming reinforcements chased off, the present forces would be too busy killing each other to care about my attempted escape. Yet, halfway to the exit point to Galantos, our sensors spotted a pair of cruisers waiting in ambush - Victory-2s as opposed to my Victory-1s. Fairly powerful cruisers, but they would have been easy pickings for my section. The problem was what followed us away from N'zoth - the Armadia. The Bellator was the least of the Super Star Destroyers, but that was like ranking stars. Sure, some stars were smaller than others, but it was still a star.
Once again, the issue would have been moot had we been traveling at the fastest speed my two Star Destroyers were capable of. Unfortunately, three glaring problems slowed us down. The first were my cruisers, the Steadfast and Intrepid were painfully slow on a good day. With the Steadfast destroying her engines, she was going even slower than that. The Lancers were a similar problem, old patrol variants meant for system travel or line formations. Ideal if I were holding the flank of a larger force, meant to button up and hold my position. Less so when running around a system as an isolated task force - I was going to get those frigates upgraded even if it were the last thing I did. The last and biggest problem was the Escapade, the alien cruiser operated by a skeleton crew that had no idea how to run the ship. It was slow, and Thawne could only guess at its capabilities.
These factors combined to create a situation where the Bellator was catching up with us. The cohesion of my section was slowly falling apart - the faster ships like the Carracks and Strike Cruisers pulled away as it became clear they wanted to cut and run. Even at our full strength, we would be unable to take down such a ship - cripple it, possibly, but not survive.
"With our full strike craft complement, that would be a tall order," Matread said, before grunting and continuing, "Even if all of our fighters were bombers, we wouldn't be able to take it down."
I sighed but did not argue against him. I watched the hologram of my section as we raced toward the egress point, the Victory Star Destroyers waiting to receive us as the Bellator gave chase. I needed a plan or in the next few hours, we would be intercepted by that Star Dreadnought. Even if I sacrificed the slower ships - an idea that repulsed me to even consider it - we would be forced to fight our way through the two cruisers and risk the Bellator catching up.
But what else was there to do? We couldn't just leave through another jump point, the slower ships would still see us caught by the Armadia.
I turned from the holotable, nodding to Matread before entering the forward bridge. A few gazes turned toward me, but no one rose - the crew was still hard at work, but a small part of me saw accusation and hate in their stares. Blame, for what we had lost, and for the position we were in.
The cause of this was revealed as I stepped to the front of the bridge and stared out of the view screen.
The Conqueror's armor was ravaged. The bow had been split open, exposing what remained of the auxiliary generator to the void. Pockmarks and carbon scoring crossed my ship, showing where the armor had buckled and broken under the concentrated firepower of the Unbroken. We survived, but it was a costly victory. The forward guns were gone, including the ion cannons and hundreds of crewmembers had lost their lives.
What choice did I have? I weakly tried to defend my actions, to defend my order for the Conqueror to charge without shields, It was that or give their reinforcements time to arrive.
Even without shields, the Conqueror was a durable ship - simple practicality said those sections of the ship were expendable so long as we achieved victory. Yet, I recoiled from the thought - expendable. Parts of the ship being expendable was a prelude to the concept of the crew being expendable. Sentimentality killed in war, but a part of me never grew from my time as a small ship officer - or as small as a Dreadnaught Heavy Cruiser came, in any case. Where I rubbed shoulders with the enlisted, where I knew every member of my bridge by name.
"Captain?" I nearly jumped. Turning, I found Screold had approached during my thinking. She looked as haggard as I felt, but her face may well have been cut from stone, "Governor Nereus has a report for you from Communications."
I blinked, before remembering that was where Nereus had gone - the intervening hours had been difficult. I nodded my thanks to Screold quickly walking to the communications station in the forward bridge. The operator turned and offered me a headset.
"Governor Nereus?"
"Captain," The permanently unamused voice of Governor Nereus responded, making me wince internally. Before I could formulate a response, perhaps an apology that might soothe a Governor's stung ego, he continued, "We intercepted a scrambled communication sent across the system. It has Imperial codes, but it is like to be encrypted."
"Over Imperial channels?" I asked unnecessarily. If the Yevethans were talking to each other we hadn't figured out how.
"It would seem. Their codes match what we have recorded in the system."
"Forward it, I'll use my access codes."
"Done."
I pulled a code cylinder from my breast pocket - down to two as Maab took those that belonged to the late Admiral Paret - and placed it in the console. After tapping my thumb on the cylinder for my biometric scan, a voice reached me. It was difficult to make out, the scrambling occurring across the system forcing the communication team to piece the message together, but I managed to pick out what was being said.
"This is Commodore Shen Dobbatek of the Hierophant. All remaining Imperial forces are to rally at Black-3. This message -"
The rest of the message appeared to be lost, but I had a name and location. I listened a couple more times, just to see if I could pick out the rest of the message - unsuccessfully.
"Shen Dobbatek and Black-3," I repeated slowly, before addressing Nereus again, "Do we have identification for Dobbatek?"
"We are not in Black Sword Command's battle-net, so we can not confirm his identity. It would be best to question the survivors of Black-15. Black-3 appears to be a defensive platform over the moon… 'Pa'aal'."
"Found out what happened to the Black-15 survivors," I muted myself and spoke hurriedly to the operator, "Ask if anyone recognizes the name 'Shen Dobbatek'. That's Dobbatek, pronounced like 'dub-ah-tech'."
The technician nodded before tapping away at their console.
"Alright, keep us posted if anything else comes up, Governor."
"Understood."
I put the headset back on the console and left for the rear bridge, letting the communications officer find any leads. I returned to the rear bridge, my target the holotable. Glancing at my ships, if only to confirm for myself that they were still there, I zoomed the display out to showcase the full system. The mess of ships at its heart still remained, Harand's team still trying to piece together what ships were which. My focus however was on N'zoth's moon - Pa'aal. It was mostly uninhabited barring an Imperial base on the moon's dark side. What was noteable was the massive space station maintaining an orbit over that base and the two Star Destroyers that hovered near it.
Though to call it a space station was to insinuate is that a unified structure. Black-3 was in reality three Golan-2 SpaceGuns placed end-to-end in a crescent-chain of turbolaser and hangar bays. Ordinarily, I might have found such a station to be tremendously overkill - there were worlds in the Slice that didn't have so many defensive stations - but for now I considered its worth. Theoretically, a Golan-2 was worth an Imperial-I Star Destroyer - reliant on layers of turbolasers and proton torpedoes. In reality, the Golan-2 had just as many exploitable weaknesses as its predecessor - its guns faced in every direction, meaning it couldn't bring the tremendous firepower to bear in a single direction.
That being said, they were the perfect rally point for a fleet, able to provide cover against would-be attackers. If Imperials had truly rallied there, then the Yevethans would need a considerable force to push them off the stations - or a Super Star Destroyer. I glanced at the Armadia, before amending: except for that one. The Bellator was a fine vessel, but it was not worth three Golan SpaceGuns, two Star Destroyers, and a fleet of supporting vessels.
Four Star Destroyers if my numbers were added to that group. The Mandator on the other hand, or worse the Executor… Well, if they came online, I hoped to be long gone.
It took the better part of half an hour before reports returned confirming that, yes, Dobbatek was a real Commodore. What his position in Black Sword Command happened to be was vague, fleet officers were not plentiful among the survivors from Black-15, but he was stationed somewhere outside the system. I theorized Dobbatek had arrived in the system just as the situation was unfolding and decided to throw his forces at Black-3 to secure a beachhead of sorts.
I quickly typed in a direct course plotted to Black-3 run alongside an estimated intercept with the Armadia. Unfortunately, they would catch us well before we reached the moon base. Our only option was a round-about way - skirting the edge of the system and putting as much distance between us and the Bellator. Even then…
I sighed, damned if we did, damned if we didn't. I forwarded the new heading to the section - and a stern reminder to the frigates to stay in formation. Getting to Black-3 was the start of a plan, and it was foolish to hope that this Commodore had something in mind. It seemed every superior's plan since Endor had been exceptionally one-note and short-sighted.
"Zanus," I addressed my surviving Victory officer, who responded quickly.
"Captain?"
"Have the Steadfast and Intrepid dump whatever munitions you have left into that Bellator. Cluster, diamond-boron, thermonuclear - I'm approving it all."
"Yes, sir." As always, Zanus was steadfast in the face of my orders. The communication channel closed, followed by a low ping from the holotable. The pair of Victory Star Destroyers launched whatever missiles they had in their tubes - trails arching out from their sides before turning and flying towad the Armadia. The initial volley was followed by a trickle of missiles and torpedoes, whatever the two could stuff into a launch tube and send in the direction of that behemoth. The holotable did little to differentiate between the munitions as they impacted the particle shields and armor of the Bellator, but I could imagine the light show. Unfortunately, while that multitude of weapons was devastating, ammunition was scarce.
An experienced crew would do one of two things: realizing that their shields and armor would hold, they would charge ahead. The other option was to button up, cut speed and raise forward shields in the event this were a trap. The Yevethans opted for option three, cut speed and try to manuever out of the way. Naturally, while the Bellator was manueverable for a Star Dreadnought, it was still a Star Dreadnought. No doubt alarmed by the computer system panicking over two dozen different missile classess.
A rookie mistake, but it bought us a couple hours at least as the Dreadnought was forced to get to speed again.
Hours streched by, and all the while that Bellator remained firmly at my back. Unfortunately, between those agonizing hours, an unfortunately report reached us.
"Captain, the Intimidator - it's on the move!" I looked up from my datapad, a final report made by Matread on the status of our fighters. The momentary relief that our loses were so minimal was drowned in a flood of fear and trepidation. I left the datapad behind as I strode to the holotable, wasting no time in zooming its feed back out. The system snapped back to into view, and I was able to easily find the monstrous Executor Star Dreadnought.
The 19-kilometer leviathan was, true to the sensor officer's words, moving at last. The battle around it still raged, but now ships appeared to give the vessel a wide berth as it slowly turned over its starboard side. I gripped the holotable, digging my nails into the surface as the auxiliary bridge tried to figure out where the vessel was going. An intercept course with my section? Unlikely - then again, it was unlikely that they would send a Bellator after me as well. Its trajectory passed my section by, aiming now toward the moon base where Commodore Dobbatek was gathering forces. Yet, it still didn't stop turning.
For the better part of half an hour, I watched the Executor slowly turn. Once the initial shock wore off, my crew focused on the present threat of the Bellator. Still, one eye remained on its larger cousin.
Finally, the massive ship came to rest - its bow facing directly toward the surface of N'zoth. Theories flew over what was happening as my advisors and officers tried to guess at what the Yevethans were up to. The prevailing theory was that the strike team had failed to do anything or worse, had been destroyed and the vessel captured. The foolishness of the plan I had supported, and put forward, stared me in the face. Had I given the Yevethans that Executor? Had I doomed us all in a half-cocked plan on my own? When the Mauader Corvette the team took to the Executor did not return, I assumed the worst.
Then, her engines flared. It takes a tremendous amount of energy to move a ship that size, even in a frictionless environment like space. The Intimidator started as a crawl, but soon built speed as she moved toward N'zoth. Theories began anew, ranging wildly until one aghast conclusion was reached.
The Intimidator wasn't stoping.
The Mandator-III Rampage, the only ship near the size of the Intimidator and hanging nearby, began to open fire on the other Dreadnought. This revealed that the Executor did not have its shields raised, as sections of its armor were peeled away. This did not stop it. Nearby Star Destroyers and escort ships and stations opened fire, but this did not stop it. The next hour was one of rapt silence as my staff and I watched, awestruck, as the Intimidator reached the outer orbit of the world.
In my youth, I read the reports from Pammant - the Destruction of Pammant, it was called. A massive battlecruiser crashing into a world after dropping out of hyperspace. No report ever mentioned why the world didn't have its shields up, the focus was always on the aftermath. Total depopulation of the world, devastating its outermost crust, and rendering the world uninhabitable for centuries to come. It was devastation on a scale that would not been seen again until the Death Star - the First Death Star, that is.
This situation was not an exact copy of Pammant - but it was with horrified fascination that I watched the event unfold.
The bow of the Intimidator slammed directly into the planetary shield and crumpled, shattering into pieces as the rest of the ship followed it. The vessel's perpendicular angle shifted as the engines continued the push the Intimidator, dragging the ravaged remains of its bow against the shield before wholesale belly-slopping against the invisible barrier.
Then the shield broke. We couldn't see it break, indeed there was no sign beyond the Intimidator suddenly plummeting in pieces toward the world - its engines still burning.
All the while, a single thought passed through my mind.
I did not order them to do that.