- OOC:
- TX, if you're not interested just say so. If so, let me know if I can use the Troopers bit. Send a PM either way please.
Battle of Seragon: Prelude
“Bothan frigate” prototype-D
Graceful Naiad. Lead-ship of Convoy Eight, Escort duration 16:25, en-route to Seragon shipyards. 00:05 after interception by joint Republic-CZA fleet.
Captain Turin knew that his career was over as soon as he glanced out of the main viewport. Two bulbous Mon Calamari cruisers were on either side of his convoy, and there was another of the craft guarding the pair of Interdictors that had pulled them out of hyperspace. All around them, craft clad in the gaudy yellow and purple colours of the CZA floated lazily, weapons armed and pointed at the outmatched cluster of ships they had ambushed. The sensor display showed the
Naiad and the transports it was guarding as miniscule green dots adrift in a sea of crimson.
As Turin watched, two of the larger friendly indicators began to flicker as they came under fire. Suddenly the dot on the right darted forwards, straight into a much bigger enemy contact. Both disappeared. Checking the list of ships in his group, the
Naiad’s captain identified the destroyed convoy ship as the heavy transport
Shazisha. The surviving ship, the other Bothan frigate in the convoy, had been literally half-destroyed by the CZA forces completing the perimeter: it’s engines had been disabled and many of the frigate’s systems were offline. It drifted, helpless except for several maneuvering thrusters, through the void.
Oddly, the ambushers did not press their advantage. Instead, they maintained their perimeter, even moving back when the crippled ship came to close. Abruptly, it flared up into a burst of pure white light, a light which briefly blinded the Captain and filled the bridge before fading away as quickly as it appeared. Turin blinked, trying to clear away the flashing spots the light had left in his vision. As his sight returned to normal, he saw that the other convoy escort was gone. It had evidently self-destructed, taking out an CZA
Aggressor-class vessel, and damaging several others. Still, the ships didn’t attack; still they circled around the convoy like a pack of krath hounds around their prey.
Turin continued to look at the fleet beyond for almost a minute, one long-fingered hand stroking his graying beard as he considered his options. Suddenly, he realized that one of the bridge officers was standing behind him, patiently waiting despite their predicament worsening with each passing moment, and he turned around.
“Yes, Lieutenant?”
“Sir, we’re receiving a transmission from the Republic cruiser
Ternient. Should I patch it through?”
Turin sighed. There was no way for the RDA group’s remnants to outfight such an overwhelming force, and their long-range communications had been jammed since they’d emerged from hyperspace. He knew exactly why the convoy had targeted: the location of the Seragon shipyards. If they already had that knowledge, they wouldn’t bother attacking the convoy: they’d slag its destination. The fact that they knew where the convoy would be suggested a spy in the Order’s ranks, and that Seragon was a target would be news to the RDA leadership. Each of these alone would be sufficient cause for alarm: together they were a threat to the Order’s very leadership. With the intention of buying enough time to somehow get a message out, Turin nodded.
“Let’s hear what they have to say.”
The holographic fleet shrunk into itself and vanished into the projector, and a tall Bothan in a Republic uniform rose up in its place.
“Captain Turin, I presume?’
Turin started, then brought himself under control after seeing the creature’s subsequent grin. How had the Bothan known his name? His suspicions of a spy in the ranks suddenly seemed much more concrete.
“As you are obviously aware, yes. This is piracy, Captain.”
This seemed to infuriate the alien Captain, and it leaned towards the projector, its facial fur bristling and teeth bared.
“No, smuggler. No. It was piracy when you and your kin stole the vessel you are in and the others. It was piracy when your Order raided our allies. This is simply law enforcement. Now tell your crew and the freighters to shut down their engines and prepare for boarding or I will personally supervise the destruction of your convoy.”
Turin snorted.
“When Chaos freezes over. I know why you attacked us, and I speak for all of the ships under my supervision when I say we’d rather go down fighting than be at the tender mercies of your mercenary allies.”
“This is your last chance. Disable your”
“You can take that, Captain, and shove it…”
The channel was abruptly closed from the other side. Turin shook his head, and turned to the com officer, who was still standing behind him.
“Inform all personnel that they are to begin to destroy all objects on this ship with a classification higher than Dorn. Then tell the convoy to erase their nav computers and physically destroy the devices.”
Convoy Eight would not lead the RDA to the shipyards. Not while Turin was alive to stop it.
The Rodian tapped out the message and transmitted it. The replies arrived seconds later.
“Done, Captain.”
The ships were still circling, but their orbits were growing smaller by the second. Again, Turin was reminded of a group of krath hounds dancing around their prey, waiting until it was exhausted…and what? Would the Republic captain make good on his threat, or did he have something else in mind. Turin rather thought it was the latter, as the convoy’s destruction would have been all too easy, especially for even one of the capital ships. Still, he wouldn’t make this easy.
“Captain, gunners are requesting permission to open fire.”
“Permission granted.”
The first of the heavy turbolaser batteries shuddered as it fired the first emerald blasts. The other weapons followed moments later, sending over a dozen energy beams at the CZA destroyer looming off the
Naiad’s side. The energy beams stripped away the ship’s shielding and reduced her exposed bridge to a twisted mass of durasteel. As the heavily damaged vessel struggled to recover from the
Naiad’s attack, the other enemy destroyer launched a retaliatory attack. The entire frigate shook under the sustained barrage, and Turin watched the shield drop under the continued fire. The
Naiad soon began to return fire, and flashes of crimson and forest-green light passed each other in the void. The frigate shook the most it had to date, causing a sustained beeping on a bridge console. As the crew still standing rushed for handholds, the secondary pilot looked up, his face white.
“Sir, primary shield disabled. Diverting secondary power now.”
There was another rumble from the frigate’s midsection, followed by a series of muffled explosions. Someone quietly cursed as they read the information scrolling across the screen.
“Reactor C offline, secondary bridge not responding to queries, and four turbolaser batteries offline.”
On the tactical display, the last of the freighters and bulk carriers vanished from the hologram as their captains activated their ships’ self-destructs. The
Graceful Naiad was alone now.
More CZA ships approached, and the
Ternient followed in their wake. A series of explosions flared down the second enemy destroyer’s elongated midsection, and its bridge and engines drifted in separate directions. The enemy ships were too closely packed to avoid this unexpected danger, and a corvette was reduced to an expanding debris cloud as it collided with the still-running engines of the destroyer’s back end.
The impact nudged the remains into an enemy troop carrier, which also fragmented as the mass smashed through its shields and carved into its flank. Armoured bodies drifted out of the debris field, and the remaining ships were forced to focus on avoiding collisions instead of the crippled frigate.
Captain Turin took full advantage of their confusion.
“SPHAT system fully charged. Tear them to pieces, sir.”
The brilliant azure beam emerged from the
Naiad’s bow and splashed onto the
Dac’s shielding. The command cruiser’s shield flickered under the onslaught, but held. The sustained energy beam died, and the
Naiad was plunged into darkness as its remaining hypermatter reactors struggled to generate the power required to keep the ship operational. On the bridge, now lit only by emergency glowrods and by the flickering light of the command consoles, Captain Turin watched dispassionately as the
Dac became ever larger in his view. The main pilot, whos name Turin had never learned, looked up again.
“They’ve got us with tractor beams, Captain. I can’t fire up the engines without risking a reactor malfunction.”
“How long would it take for the reactors to overload?”
“Fifteen seconds, give or take three seconds.”
Turin had to look up to see the Republic cruiser now. Grey-suited figures and sleek
Lamba shuttles were swarming towards his ships from all directions. The
Gracious’s quad lasers and boarding defenses made short work of the first wave, but were quickly disabled by a volley of proton torpedoes. As the reports of boarders and sections being lost filed down the screen, Captain Turin removed a holoprojector from his pocket. It was a family scene with himself in the centre. Never taking his eyes from the hologram, he selected options, typed in passcodes, and disabled failsafes. A computer-generated voice asked “Authorization code?”
Replacing the holoprojector in his pocket, Captain Turin Drevinsky, veteran of a life-time of service to the Order, replied clearly.
“For honour and the Order.”
“Code accepted. Self-destruct engaged. Processing…”
The Captain glanced at his subordinates, all of whom had risen from their duty stations and were standing across from him. There was no fear on any of their faces. Muffled blaster fire was just audible over an open intraship channel and sparks had started to dance from the blast doors locking off the bridge as fusion cutters burned through the metal, but none of it mattered anymore. As the display became clear and the holographic Bothan jerked back in surprise, Turin Drevinsky spoke what he knew would be his last words.
“How does this strike you, furball?”
The world went white.
We were unable to capture Turin.
So?
You told us that he wouldn’t do it.
I told you he would be unlikely to do it, not with a wife and kids. I’m not a bloody Jedi; I can’t read their damn minds for you. I told you where they’d be and who has the intel; isn’t that enough?
Not when it cost us a destroyer group and damn near scrapped one of our allies’ cruisers.
Questions are being asked, we’ve lost credibility, and some bleeding-heart officials are poking around. Thanks to you, we’re on the verge of losing Republic support.
Well, that’s your problem, isn’t it? I’m just paid for the info, not to make your battle plans.
Then give us the right info, or there might be a leak. I’m sure you’re familiar with the Order’s policies on traitors.
Please don’t try that little routine again. We both know you need me.
To get us the shipyards. Do that, or your life expectancy will be shorter than that of a lava flea on Hoth.
I’ll be in touch, and I’ll have what you need.
For your sake, I certainly hope so.
