How did that idiot Ditmar manage to lose an entire squadron in twenty minutes?!
Such thoughts swirled through my mind as I took my seat in the cockpit of my fighter. My armor easily replaced a standard flight suit and spacesuit—it could connect directly to the onboard systems—so now all the necessary information appeared on the internal display: fighter parameters, communication channels, radar, and much more.
Okay. Time to get started.
"Attention all ships, this is Yellow Leader!" I spoke into the comm. "The task is simple as pie—we're covering our ships while they chase down the big bad guys! It's a real mess out there, so stay sharp! Group Gray provides cover from above, Pink and Blue take the flanks! Green—rear hemisphere! Group Red covers the hangars! Group Yellow, follow me!"
The clones immediately sent back confirmations of the order.
"Ahsoka!"
"Yes, Master?" The young Togruta's voice practically trembled with excitement and anticipation.
"Take the Reds and cover the hangars. Keep an eye on your charges!"
"Yes, Master!"
A message from the astromech droid blinked across one of my internal screens: "The fighter is in perfect working order and ready for combat."
"O-kay, Yellow—let's go!" I switched to the general channel. "Yellow Leader to group, form up and follow me!"
The reactor was already warmed, so I smoothly lifted the craft, turned, and rolled out of the lower hangar. The Torrents followed close behind, spreading their wings into combat configuration midair.
All around was chaos: flashes, explosions, blaster bolts of every color and size, debris from ships and starfighters tumbling through space…
A dozen CIS ships surrounded four Acclamators, hammering them with constant fire while the assault ships fought back desperately. Glancing at my tactical panel, I saw our ships forming a wedge formation with the frigates at the center, heading straight for the enemy. More reinforcements were already rushing to support the Separatists.
"This is Yellow Leader! All fighters, prepare yourselves—we've got company incoming!"
Closing my eyes for just a moment, I centered myself, letting go of everything unnecessary. My hands moved on their own, twisting the handles, pressing the triggers. Green blaster bolts streaked ahead from my cannons, slicing through the darkness toward one of the Vultures…
***
The Separatist ships split up—some continued harassing the remnants of Ditmar's squadron, while others began maneuvering to link up with reinforcements. Those reinforcements turned out to be the main wave of the invasion, consisting mostly of transport ships.
"Attention, all ships—maneuver S-3!"
The wedge of Acclamators, firing continuously, veered away from their previous course and redirected toward the remaining enemy ships. The CIS fleet commander showed no reaction.
Rinaun exhaled sharply—his tactic had worked! The enemy rushed to defend their transports, giving the battered Republic ships a chance to break free. Just a little more time, and they'd be out of the ring.
As they closed in, the ships launched a torpedo salvo that obliterated two enemy frigates. The four crippled Acclamators ceased fire and fell in behind Rinaun's formation. The remaining two corvettes took position at the center beside his frigates.
"Transmit the jump coordinates to everyone!" Rinaun ordered. "Contact the general—we're getting out of here!"
***
Roll left, fire, turn right, burst, slow down, dodge missiles, somersault, fire again, barrel roll, dive, fire, serpentine—
"They're on the right!"
"I've got two on my tail!"
"Six, hold on, I'm coming in from above!"
"Missiles—I can't shake them off! Aaaagh!"
"New group coming from below!"
"Six ships on the left!"
"Two Vultures down!"
"Seventeen destroyed—I repeat, seventeen destroyed!"
A clear signal cut through the cacophony of comm chatter:
"Attention, Commander Rinaun speaking! All fighters, return to your ships—we're leaving!"
Oh, hutt, it's spinning... This beats any roller coaster—the adrenaline's off the charts.
Calm down, Miko. Calm down!
"Yellow Leader to all groups—release proton torpedoes! Let's get out of here!!"
Dozens of small torpedoes launched from under the Torrents' wings, fanning out toward the enemy formation. The Separatists frantically switched fire to intercept them. One torpedo alone couldn't do much damage—our payloads weren't ship-grade—but a full volley could make life very unpleasant for any frigate.
The Vulture droids pulled back to recharge, clearing the "sky" just long enough for us to escape this graveyard of wreckage.
A few minutes later, under covering fire from the Acclamators, the last Torrents made it safely back into their ships' hangars.
Carefully setting my fighter down on the hangar floor, I pulled back the canopy and removed my helmet.
"Master! Are you all right?" Ahsoka ran up, jumped onto the fighter's deck, and peered into my face with concern.
"I'm fine, Ahsoka. Perfectly fine…"
She must have sensed my anxiety—my emotions. That's not good. I need to calm myself.
***
"The last Republic ship has left the system," one of the droids reported.
TH-07 reviewed the in-system reports. His plan had been executed flawlessly, though he had been forced to end the engagement under contingency I-8. Instead of striking the transport ships and disrupting the landing operation, the Republic commander had chosen to save the remnants of the first squadron.
Zero-Seven analyzed the decision and deemed it illogical and tactically unsound. The droid failed to comprehend the reasoning behind it. Moreover, losses among his own squadron exceeded projections by 172 percent.
He was also intrigued by the performance of one enemy fighter, which had achieved results well above average despite possessing no notable technical advantages. Cross-referencing his databases, Zero-Seven concluded that he had encountered one of the Jedi.
"Take defensive position GH-4 and begin landing the main forces," Zero-Seven ordered, folding his arms behind his back. "Provide cover for the landing craft. Contact Count Dooku—I will personally report the success of the operation."
Zero-Seven watched impassively as dozens of landing barges from the Lucrehulks descended toward the surface below.