The De Gant System

Captain Bacredi put out his cigarette in an already extended ashtray from a crewmember, at the same time looking out at the small task force he was commanding. 14 ships in total, all up to his “standards,” and all ready to kick some serious ass.

“Sir, Commanders McCullock and van der Ronson are ready for you in the conference center,” said Bacredi’s first mate, and he was more than happy to leave the gloomy bridge. He straightened his tie in his naval dress uniform—which he was still wearing from a backwater Imperial ceremony the day earlier—and headed straight into the holo chamber. The Daring heaved her way along the De Gant System, being tired from the previous days engagements.

The inside of the holo chamber, much like the bridge, was gloomy and lit by lights from the ground and not from the ceiling. The Imperial “decorations” really didn’t liven the room up, either.

“Commanders,” Bacredi said, and they both saluted to Bacredi, giving him a tinge of superiority that he rarely felt in his fleet. “What do you have for me?”

“Well, the enemy force has split in two—half of it is near Vosovo III, and the other is near Villinus. We suggest that we keep our task force together and take out the force near Vosovo III first, and then move on to the force near Villinus.” Commander McCullock, who Bacredi had never really liked, spoke in his monotone Epsiloni voice. Commander van der Ronson, a snob from a minor royal family on Rhodesia, stood obediently next to McCullock. 

“What if we split the fleet in two?” asked Bacredi, as he wanted to go back to Abrae as soon as possible, and hitting them both at the same time would obviously do it quicker.

“Then we will lose the battle, simple as that,” McCullock said, obviously bothered by Bacredi’s question.

“And why, Andy, is that?” Andrew van der Ronson seemed almost disturbed by being called Andy.

“Sir, I went to the Imperial College for Battle Statistics, while Commander McCullock went to the Imperial College for Tactics.”

“And I don’t care about what you went to college for, hell, I’m technically a licensed architect. Now tell me, what is your professional opinion: can this work?”

“In my opinion…no, while the statistics suggest yes.” van der Ronson said, McCullock cringed.

“I have studied all the battles from Yavin to Migas, and I have never—” Bacredi put up a hand.

“Commander McCullock, you’re leading Battlegroup Atlas, Commander Andy, you’re with me.” McCullock, again, cringed at not being allowed to speak. Fucking phony.

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Two hours had passed and both Battlegroups were in position—Battlegroups Daring and Atlas. Eight ships in Daring, six in Atlas. Both battlegroups had wandered away from each other, heading for their respective targets.

Bacredi sat in his captains chair, reading the mission briefing that Intelligence had put forward. He underlined a few sentences, and then a yeoman spoke up: “Sir, there is an anomaly on the radar, just near Vosovo I.”

“Let me see that,” Bacredi ordered, pulling up his own screen.

“Transferred,” said the yeoman, and the screen was transferred to Bacredi. All he saw was an area around Vosovo I that hadn’t been marked with any markings, and instead featured a black hole in the middle (not a literal black hole).

“In your experience, what is this, usually?”

“Usually, a fighter group waiting to attack. Today, I don’t know.”

“Com., set the fighters on high alert, warn them of an anomaly.” Bacredi effectively ended the conversation right there.

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Lieutenant MacPherson, squadron commander of the 156th Assault Squadron, sat in his cockpit, his lights dimmed. The rest of the 156th, 12 X-Wings and all, were around him, with four more X-Wing squadrons, eight Y-Wing squadrons, 3 A-Wing squadrons, 1 B-Wing squadron, and an odd assortment of other fighters scrambled from nearby systems. MacPherson was the head of this attack force: Beta; the force had been waiting in the same spot for about two hours, and their radars detected a large Star Destroyer coming their way with extra ships attached.

“Zulu, do you read me?” MacPherson said into his com, seeing if the other attack force was ready.

“Beta, this is Zulu, we’re ready to pounce.”

“All squadrons, this is Beta leader, move in!” MacPherson’s X-Wing lit up as his R5 unit understood his command, and it shot off towards the Daring.

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“Sir, we have MASSIVE amounts of chatter from that anomaly!” the yell was directed at Bacredi.

“Put us on high alert,” said Bacredi, still calm.

“Sir, I suggest we move into action stations!” bellowed Bacredi’s XO, who he was constantly clashing with.

“No, we’re staying in this position now, if we were to call action stations and it wasn’t really a threat, our appearance would be tarnished.”

“Sir, I find this—”

“You’re relieved, yeoman, escort Lieutenant Commander Crane off of the bridge, please.” Bacredi looked out the window port as he sat down, still as calm as ever.

“Sir, it looks like two New Republic attack forces are converging on us now…they overwhelm our fighter force three to one!” said the radar operator. The bridge was now dead silent as they awaited Bacredi’s next decision. By that point, the crew thought that they could still win the battle.

“Sound the general alarm, action stations.”

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Captain Banskin, the leader of Task Force Jameson in the Sixth Fleet and captain of the Epsiloni Pride, looked at a hologram of Captain Zhar Bacredi. It was being repeated over Channel 6—the emergency channel for the Vast Empire Armed Forces.

“To all friendly forces out there, this is Captain Zhar Bacredi, Vast Empire Navy, Captain of the Daring and Lord of the Seventh Fleet. We are sending out an emergency message from the De Gant System…I repeat…”

“XO, plot us on a course for the De Gant System.” Jameson ordered his XO, and he did it immediately. Within three hours, the Epsiloni Pride was in the De Gant System, and all their radars picked up was wreckage of VEN vessels. He sent out boarding craft to the Daring, which really didn’t appear to be a Star Destroyer anymore, and all they found was most of the bridge crew, some certain decks had been spared—everyone else, dead.

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Zhar Bacredi sat comfortably in Windsor Manor, his government owned home on Lianna. He opened up his datapad, and the headlines from the un-censored New Republic newspaper read: “Vast Empire Task Force Smashed to Pieces, Little to No Survivors in Some Areas. Stunning defeat at the hands of a much smaller force.”

Bacredi thought that some good things had come out of his stunning and humiliating defeat: Commander McCullock had perished in battle. Headlines the next day read "Seventh Fleet Commander Resigns His Post."