Denethor sat in his office on board the Ferrum Umbra, orbiting Abrae. While he’d been Naval Executive Officer he had yet to move his office to Abrae. He like it here - aboard his flagship - his mobile Headquarters. Here he could know exactly who was coming to visit, no unannounced guests.

He turned his attention back to the task at hand. He had scheduled a comm. meeting with an Admiral Drakan, leader of the Imperial Dominion, a contingent of Remnant forces that the Vast Empire had already tangled with. Following the Warlord's failed attempt to expand his holdings in the Unknown Regions, Drakan settled into a more cautious strategy, and had since been raiding the Navy’s supply lines. The story went that he led a handful of Star Destroyers in an escape from Endor, promoted himself from Commodore, and snagged up a small fleet in the following months. They had since been building a small society in the Boelter system. Yes, his own forces were reciprocating the raiding, but with the growing strength of the New Republic, it seemed pointless for two factions of the fallen Empire, two former allies with the same agenda, to be fighting. Why not join together and become stronger, or at least just leave each other alone?

That was the problem since Palpatine’s death, the reason that Coruscant fell to the New Republic – too many power hungry Moffs and Admirals claimed rightful leadership and started fighting within the still strong military. No one seemed to be able to bring the shambles back together. Until now – a Chiss named Thrawn, claiming to be a Grand Admiral, had been rumored to be rallying many Imperial forces behind him, in an attempt to retake the Core. The Vast Empire wanted nothing to do with Thrawn, and that could eventually prove to be problematic, especially if their supply lines kept getting raided by Drakan’s forces. A truce had to be reached, or both factions would never stand a chance.

The speaker on his desk chirped at him and he pressed the black button below it. The voice of his Ship Commander, Alexona San-Creon, chimed through the small box.

“Comm. transmission from Admiral Drakan sir,” she said

    “Good,” Denethor replied, “Patch him through.”

There was a click and then another chirp. Denethor hit the button again and he heard raspy breathing from the speaker.

    “Ah, Admiral, good to here from you.”

“You as well Captain,” Drakan said in his deep voice, “You have determined a time and place for our rendezvous, no?”

    “I have,” Denethor leaned over and punched in a command, “I’m sending you the coordinates. We’ll meet in three days. Say 1400 hours?”

Denethor’s meeting location was a quick jump from the Vectra system, at Roku Tan. Drakan would know that of course, but that just have to be something Drakan would have to deal with. Denethor had to be prepared for anything. You didn’t become the Executive Officer of an Imperial Navy by trusting people. And a man like Drakan didn’t just commandeer an entire fleet and promote himself to Admiral without something up his sleeve.

“Why Captain,” Drakan said with feigned shock, “These coordinates are only a few lightyears out of your space. Expecting a hasty retreat or call of reinforcements?”
   
“These are uneasy times Admiral, one can never be too careful.”

“Hmm… this is true I suppose. I will see you in three days Captain.”

    “Looking forward to it Admiral.” And then the line clicked off.

Drakan was a clever man, Denethor didn’t need much to determine that. But what exactly he had up his sleeve, Denethor didn’t know. So he would need someone present that would know when Drakan was playing his hand. That person would also have to be Denethor’s own trick up his sleeve. That led him to one person. He then sent a message to Talon, asking for the use of this person. Within ten minutes he’d received a response, granting him permission.

He hit the button on his comm. again, “Lieutenant, get me a holo link to the Temple on Lopen.”

****************************************************

Later that afternoon he called a briefing with all of the commanders aboard the Atrus. He stepped up to the podium in the large conference room and the crowd went silent.

“In three standard days, a small flotilla will disembark on a diplomatic mission. That flotilla will consists of three Star Destroyers, the Suspense, the Eagle, and the Vengeance. And escorted by two Carrack Cruisers, the Fringe and the Stingray. This flotilla will be called Peacemaker, and commanded by myself aboard the Suspense. Our mission is to meet with Admiral Drakan of the Imperial Dominion in the Roku Tan system. Our mission is to either negotiate an alliance, or a cease-fire.
“We’ve fought with Drakan before, and he is a cunning man, so I don’t fully expect these talks to be completely legitimate on his part. The entirety of the first and second fleets will be on standby in system, at the command of Admiral Japheth aboard the Atrus. Meanwhile, Phoenix Wing, commanded by Commodore Shazam, will remain as defense for any possible attacks to Vast Empire space. Any questions?” He saw no hands raise, “Good. Dismissed.”

****************************************************

Three days later at 1200 hours, Denethor stood on the bridge of the Suspense, looking out at the rest of the Fleet. They would soon be disembarking to the rendezvous point. He soon heard footsteps behind him, and his brother stepped up next to him.

“Ah, there’s my Army grunt brother, sleep well?”

Otto nodded

“Good,” he turned toward the closest bridge officer, “Commander Shodon, this is my brother Sergeant Major Otto Vox. He’ll be accompanying me during the entirety of this mission. Think of him as your superior and my equal. He tells you to do something, you do it.”

        “Yessir,” the middle-aged officer said, and turned back to his task

    “Ok,” Denethor said, “it’s time to head to Roku Tan.” He stepped over to the comm. board, bent down and spoke into the microphone, “This is Captain Denethor to Peacebringer Flotilla, lock on coordinates and prepare to jump on my mark. Atrus, prepare the fleet to jump in at the first sign of trouble. Peacebringer, jump in 3, 2, 1… mark.”

The Suspense moved forward, followed by another Star Destroyer and two Carrack-Class Cruisers. Once the flotilla cleared the rest of the fleet, the stars elongated and broke into the purple swirl that was hyperspace. Less than a minute later, space returned to normal.

    “Now we wait,” Denethor said, his eyes scanning the void.

Within ten minutes, an officer perked up on the port side of the bridge. “Captain, sensors are picking up a small task force coming out of hyperspace 5000 kilometers to port.”

    “What strength are they?” Denethor asked.

“One Star Destroyer, and two frigates.”

    “Smaller than I was expecting, they must have something up their sleeves. Comm., have they hailed us yet?”

        “No, sir,” said a female officer.

    “Otto,” he said turning, “Do you sense anything?”

He closed his eyes for a few moments, then shook his head.
   
“Hmm,” Denethor turned to look out the viewport at the newcomers.

    “Captain,” the female officer said again, “Their flagship, the Actaeon is hailing us. Admiral Drakan is asking for you.”

“Good. Put him through.”

The holocomm flickered to life and a portly man with a large graying mustache and crew cut hovered in the middle of the bridge.

    “Ah,” Denethor said stepping up to the display, “Good to finally see you.”

“You as well,” said Drakan’s deep, raspy voice. “Shall we?”

    “Yes, we shall. You’re shuttle can land in our secondary hangar bay, away from the hustle and bustle of our main bay. I will meet you there.”

“Sounds perfect, see you soon.”

The holo flickered off and Denethor headed toward the rear of the bridge, Otto at his heels. Fifteen minutes later they were walking up a column of hangar deck, flanked by two rows of Stromtroopers. Ahead of them a Sentinal-Class landing shuttle was setting down on its landing struts.

    “A little overdone,” Denethor said under his breath, “But some men need to make an impression.

The boarding ramp hissed and descended to the deck. Two men in red Stormtrooper armor with black capes draped over their right shoulders walked down the ramp and flanked it on either side. Denethor assumed that these were the Dominion’s version of Royal Guards. Drakan descended the ramp then, a confident and smooth stride given his size. Behind him were another officer, Lt. Commander in rank, and two aids. Two life forms were left aboard the shuttle – the pilots. Drakan strode up to Denethor, the two men saluted each other and then Drakan’s hand came out to shake Denethor’s. He noted that Drakan was either very enthusiastic about this meeting, or he was hiding something.

As the group turned toward the exit, Drakan’s voice broke the silence. “You’re younger than I was expecting, Captain. How long have you been in the service?”

    “I joined just after Endor,” Denethor said, leading the group out the doors and into the corridor, “Once I was old enough to enlist. I’ve been working my way up ever since. Just got the luck of the draw I guess. I myself am surprised at the size of your escort, small amount of vessels, no?”

“It’s what we could spare without depleting our defenses. We have citizens to protect.”

    “As do we.” They had reached the large turbolift and the small entourage stepped inside. Two levels later it opened up, and Denethor led them to a conference room whose doors were flanked by two Stormtroopers. Inside lining the walls was a squad of Stormtroopers. Denethor was showing Drakan that he was prepared for anything, but just how prepared, Drakan wouldn’t know. The two parties sat on opposite sides of the table. Otto stood behind his brother with the Red-Clad Stormtroopers opposite him. The two military leaders skipped the pleasantries and got straight to business. The conversation quickly turned to the possibilities of merging forces – spurred on by Denethor.
As they talked about the benefits of having the Dominion join the Vast Empire, it seemed that Drakan became less and less interested.

That’s when it happened. Otto’s arms shot out. With one hand he drew the weapons out of the hands of the Red-Clad guards, and with the other he pinned Drakan and his aides to their chairs. The Stormtroopers around the room quickly drew their blasters on the Dominion members.

Drakan struggled under Otto’s Force restraints and finally grunted, “I demand to know what’s going on.”

Denethor had remained seated, and now smirked and aimed his hand in the direction of Otto, “I forgot to introduce my brother, Dark Jedi Knight Otto Vox.”

Otto nodded his head, “Greetings”

Drakan sighed and hung his head in defeat. Denethor’s comm. chirped and he snapped it off his belt.

        “Sir,” the low-tone voice of Commander Shodon squawked, “Battledroids have taken over the secondary hangar and are moving out through the corridors, heading toward the bridge. Also a fleet of Dominion ships just exited hyperspace behind Drakan’s escort.”

    “How many ships?” Denethor asked.

        “Ten Victory-class Star Destroyers, and two dozen Carrack Cruisers. They are all releasing starfighters.”

    “Frack. Call in the Atrus. Seems we have a fight on our hands.”

Denethor clipped the comm. back onto his belt and turned toward the Stormtrooper commander. “Hold these men here, shoot them if necessary. Otto, get down to the hangar and….” But Otto was already out the door. Denethor shook his head and motioned to his attendants to follow him to the bridge.

When he reached the command deck, the bridge was teeming with activity, and many officers were yelling back and forth to each other. The deck had started rumbling with turbolaser fire and strikes to the Suspense’s shields.

  “Report!” Denethor screamed.

“Sir,” Commander Shodon replied, “The small Dominion task force has fallen back into the larger fleet, with the Actaeon as its flagship.”

    “And how soon until the Atrus and the rest of the fleet gets here?”

“Within the minute sir. Just as the Dominion’s forces get into short range fire distance.”


    “Hmm, okay. Have the rest of the flotilla converge on us to strengthen the front deflector shields until the Fleet gets here.”

Time seemed to drag on forever as Denethor waited for the Vast Empire Fleet to come out of hyperspace to rescue them. As he waited, the deck beneath him continued to rumble.

Denethor turned to San-Creon, “What’s the status of those Battledroids?”

She quickly stepped over to the security camera panel and looked through the cameras around the hangar bay. Flashes of light in multiple screen indicated blasterfire.

“Sir,” she replied, “They have advanced through multiple corridors and have been overpowering our squads of Stormtroopers.”

    “And what of my brother?” Denethor asked

She scrolled through a few more screens and then turned back. “He’s currently fighting a pair of Droids.” She stepped back as Denethor walked over.

On the screen he could see Otto crouch and run toward the two remaining droids. They fired out of sync which allowed him to deflect all of their shots. Most of them he directed at one droid, forcing it to step back and lose its footing on a fallen droid. He leapt onto it and drove his blade into its chest. Its eyes went dark and it clanked to the deck. As he stood up to face the last Super, Otto’s leg was pulled out from under him – a not quite killed Super had grabbed his ankle – the other Super took aim. Denethor could see a squad of Stormtroopers step into the screen, one of them quickly took aim and his blasterbolt hit the droid square in the face, it turned to its new attacker and three more bolts struck it in the chest. It faltered and Otto’s hand shot out, and its torso was ripped apart. Otto kicked his leg free and he stabbed the head of the injured Super.

Denethor released a sigh of relief as Otto stood up and thanked the Stormtroopers that had saved his life. Denethor hit his comm. and contacted Otto, and assigned him to bringing Admiral Drakan to the bridge.

Finally the sensor board squealed, and multiple ships materialized about 500KM to the port side of the flotilla, and the silhouette of the Atrus appeared in the middle of the fleet, its long bow reaching out into space. Denethor breathed another short sigh of relief, knowing that the extreme possibility of defeat had now plummeted, and the two forces were almost evenly matched, with the tide slightly in the favor of the VE.

Within minutes Otto, Drakan, and two squads of Stormtroopers walked onto the bridge. Denethor walked up to Drakan and looked him straight in the eyes. A flare of defiance was in them.

    “You got cocky Drakan, and it ruined you. You thought you could take control of the Suspense, and you may have been able to do it, but you couldn’t predict my having a Dark Jedi as a secret weapon.”

“Your magician didn’t do a damn thing.” Drakan spat.

    “On the contrary, he destroyed a whole two squads of your Droids alone.”

The defiance was still is Drakan’s eyes.

    “And now your over confidence will mean the defeat of your entire fleet. Our reinforcements have arrived, and your Dominion is overpowered. You will be escorted aboard the Atrus and placed in its brig. I hope you enjoy your imprisonment.” Denethor turned to the ranking Stormtrooper, “Take him back to his ship and shuttle him over to the Atrus.”

The squads of Stormtroopers turned with Drakan at their center and took him down to the hangar bay.

As the last of the white clad Stormtroopers escaped Denethor's sight, he turned around and looked out the viewport at the battle that was already raging out in space.

OOC:

Refer to Discussion Topic for initial instructions. Please put post counts in OOC at the end of your posts

Imperial-Class Star Destroyer Nemesis was positioned on the left flank of a small ship cluster. Imperial-Class Star Destroyers Triton and Dominance were positioned in front of him, making the formation look like an upside-down arrow. On the bridge of the Nemesis, Commodore Vincent "Claw" Taurus spoke silently with his command staff. Suddenly, a young Ensign looked up from his computer terminal and began to speak. "Sir, enemy fighters incoming! Defence protocols are now in place."

"Lieutenant, launch Aegis and Blizzard squadrons. Tell them to form up on our bow, I don't want anything to get through." Commodore Taurus spoke to the Lieutenant in a professional and respectful manner. The Lieutenant didn't waste a second, saluting briskly, he turned back to his computer terminal and spoke into his mouthpiece. Ten seconds later, the hanger blast doors opened on the outside of the ship, shaking the Nemesis. Thirty seconds later, the viewscreen that had been placed in front of the Commodore showed Blizzard Squadron gliding out of their racks, Blizzard's sluggish TIE Fighters moved out of the rack one by one. A second after Blizzard Twelve (the last Blizzard to leave the hanger) had launched from the hanger, Aegis Squadron's TIE Interceptors began to fly from the racks, much quicker than the fighters.

"All fighters, check in." Lieutenant Commander Hargaves spoke into his wireless com, he stood right next to Commodore Taurus. They both nodded to the current battle, this was going to go well. The entire bridge crew turned to the larger com when all the fighters began to check in.

"Aegis 1 checking in."

"Aegis 2 checking in..."

"Sir, one squadron of enemy fighters incoming on the stern." A young first lieutenant spoke to the Commodore, looking up, Commodore Taurus checked his viewscreen. They sure as hell were, twelve TIE Fighters, rickety, outdated craft were incoming to the Nemesis. "Should I scramble the squadrons into a defensive position?"

"Yes, turn us 90 degrees, port. Put Aegis and Blizzard Squadrons on our starboard." Commodore Taurus was going to turn his ship 90 degrees, and let the turrets have it. He would then send the fighter squadrons over the ship and swarm the enemy squadron.

"Aye, aye." The Lieutenant said, all the pilots of the Nemesis braced as the ship turned ninety degrees.

"Let them have it." The Commodore said, raising his hand. Aegis and Blizzard Squadrons flew over and under the Nemesis, the Nemesis' turrets fired in lines that no other fighters could comprehend. Two rickety TIE fighters were turned into ash in mere seconds, the turrets had to redirect their lines of fire as the squadrons emerged, the squadrons then intersected with the enemy squadrons. "Pilots, pull our ship closer, tell the squadrons to move near our turrets. Bring some fighters with them."

"Copy that, Aegis and Blizzard Squadrons, pull back to our position. Bring enemy fighters with you, initiate code 5." The young Lieutenant said, he then went to begin to steer the ship again. Everyone on the bridge braced as the ship turned and let loose a spray of laser fire. One fighter was caught inbetween a fighter's laser blast and the Nemesis' blasts, the pilot died a horrible death.

OOC:

Tallied

Captain Akardi Zamtrev stood on the bridge of his ship the Corvette Raven as it exited hyperspace, he already knew his orders to engage the enemy ships four star destroyers and eight carrack cruisers in total. As soon as the Raven was out of hyperspace Zamtrev began giving orders over the ships intercom. “Shields up fortify forward shields ready all weapons increase speed to military thrust. All personal not at their damage control stations by the time the first enemy volley hits up better hope he or she dies in it because I wont be so kind.” Looking to his bridge officers he gave some additional orders once were in maximum range open fire on the nearest carrack cruiser, and comm's officer keep that IFF cycling.”

The corvette was soon up to full military thrust its engines roaring away the pinging sound of it closing on the enemy fleet grew more rapid until it was a steady tone. Licking his lips and breathing with baited excitement and ordered “Open fire!” The forward guns lit up with red and green blaster fire a moment later the rest of the fleet opened fire as well the targeted carack cruiser and several others opened fire soon after that. The Raven began to rock as its shields began to take fire from several cruisers unconcerned Captain Zamtrev padded his helm officer on the shoulder and told him “Pour it on ensign.” The corvette speed increased and Zamtreve smiled as he felt the vibrations of the deck plating telling him that the ship was nearing he limits. “Were engaging the Nomad first we'll take this at a one at a time basis unless another ship routs us. Roll here to starboard thirty degrees and pitch her down twelve open up our port side guns to the nomads belly see if we can't get her to chase us.”

The corvette hurled its self toward the cruiser the scene from the out side would be as if the Raven was on a collision course with the Nomad as the Raven neared the Nomad it started a roll and pitched downward relative to the Nomad. As the two ships closed the shields of the two ships connected in a dazzling blue display of energy. Once under the belly of the Nomad the Raven opened fire at point blank range with its port turbo lasers. Some blasts bypassing the shields and connecting with the Nomads hull. Showers of sparks and metal and vented gases erupted from the hull of the Nomad. At the same time as the Raven was firing so was the Nomad its forward guns making glancing hits on the forward section of the deflector shields a few grazing the hull, when the two ships shields collided the Nomads ventral armaments opened fire punching holes in to the Ravens poet side outer hull with pure oxygen venting and being set off in a flash of flame that was soon subdued by the vacuum of space.

“Damage control teams to deck 2 port side on the double” was Captain Zamtrev's next command. The fight was just starting and it looked to be a long one. The Nomad reeled its self around in pursuit of the Raven falling for Zamtrev's gambit. To his helmsman he gave his next order “Mr. Cidman bank us toward Roku Tan.” Mr. Cidman replied “Sir?” Captain Zamtrev calmly explained “They're bigger than we are lets use that agaisnt them, push them against the planets gravity well it'll be like backing an army against the ocean now push it!” Mr . Cidman grinned replied “Yes Sir!”and pushed every ounce of power  in to the engines he could. Captain Zamtrev began watching his coffee and as it began to “lean” toward the planet he gave the order. “Bring her around as tight as you can and open up on the Nomad with the rear guns aim for the engines!”

The Raven's engines cut out and it began to turn against the gravity well of Roku Tan Captain Zamtrev could hear the entire ship popping and buckling slightly against the forces of inertia and gravity. Soon after the Raven pulled out of the gravity well the Nomad began its turn as turbo laser fire struck its engines disabling one of them. It might not have been all of its systems but it was enough to keep it from pulling out fully from Roku Tan's grip via a one hundred and eighty degree turn like the Raven had instead it was running a perpendicular course from the corvette and could only face it with one side. In the years of sailing vessels on the high seas this would mean that the Raven had the wind gage, a decided tactical advantage.
“Get us back in to the fight this is out kill, keep her against the planet.” A slight glimmer of blood lust in his voice but also of confidence. The ship maneuvered its self broadside to broadside with the Nomad. Again orders from Captain Zamtrev “Fortify starboard deflector shields close in.” The nomad may have been crippled but that didn't keep her from fighting back a barge of fire hit the Raven hard striking her a midships. On the intercom came a crewman “Need damage and fire control teams, Deck four starboard side.” A bit of concern crossed the captains face and he ordered the teams to the fire and than ordered. “Seal off the sections if you cant control it in five minutes.” The crewman replied “Yes Sir!”

The two ships continued to exchange blaster fire as Captain Zamtrev expertly kept the Nomad from escaping the planets grip and pounded her pot side with his own blaster fire forcing the Nomad further in the grip of  Roku Tan. Despite the advantage of having the “Wind gage” both ships kept each other in a stale mate. The heavier shielding and weapons of the Carrack cruisers negating the better use of position and strategy of the Corvette but the captain was relentless and determined he would not lose this fight nor let this one ship be his only win in this battle.

OOC:

Tallied

The flashes from the battle outside lit up the bridge sporadically, casting the Captain’s long shadow over the floor and the wall. It had been scant minutes from the Immortals’s entry into the battle, and there was already a fine ring of debris circling the ship. The gravity projectors that kept the crew firmly planted on the floors of the ship also drew in much of the smaller debris. Ship’s wings, fuselages. Bodies.

Outside was a mess. Vance’s Sol squadron hadn’t made one loop around the ship before becoming heavily entangled with an advance enemy TIE squadron.  It was a painful ordeal to watch, two squadrons of TIEs fighting, dying. There was nothing worse than a war against yourself. Every time he saw a TIE die, his or theirs, he saw an Imperial die. It didn’t matter that they were enemy Imperials. It was another Imperial not in the universe. Flash. There went another one. Flash. Another. Flash.

“Captain?”

Immortal’s Captain Levinn turned, not at all reluctantly, from the carnage and was greeted by the familiar, stony face of his Executive Officer. Lieutenant Commander Rikes was a small, thin man of thirty-five, with wild green eyes and a pale complexion – not the sort you’d think of as a commander of ships or armies. But he’d served pretty well as Levinn’s XO thus far. Too well, almost. Levinn somewhat dreaded the day that Rikes would be commissioned for a ship-command position. It wasn’t so far off.

By contrast, Levinn was just about everything you’d expect from a ship captain. At just over six feet, he towered over Rikes. His cropped blonde hair and a rather strong jaw that made most other officers describe him as ‘dashing’. His crew would probably agree more on ‘intimidating’, and no time more so than when Levinn was standing on his bridge backlit by the destruction he was creating. Rikes, however, didn’t even flinch anymore. He stood erect, with aloofness that Levinn admired in many officers, and secretly wished he himself could project.

“Yes?” Levinn asked, looking down at his second-in-command.

“Message from the Suspense, sir,” Rikes responded briskly, handing over a datapad. Levinn skimmed what little was on it. Just the specs for an Imperial Lambda shuttle its flight plan.It was set to leave the Suspense – in the middle of a battle, no less – and  Levinn had to see it safely to the Atrus.

“Maybe they’d like me to personally capture and disarm all of Drakan’s ships while I’m at it,” Levinn muttered.

“Sir?” Levinn shook his head and waved the comment off. 

“Get me the Captains of the Peacebringer flotilla.” Rikes nodded to the comm officer, and then jumped to catch up to his commander. Levinn stopped over the Tactical Officer’s chair and leaned in close.

“What’re we looking at?” The Officer jumped slightly and looked around.

“Well, er, the Suspense is about twenty klicks off North, point of the battle. They’re getting some heavy stuff there,” he said, pointing to his screen. “We’re the closest ship, actually. The Nemesis came out...here-ish.” He rotated the view.

“And the Vader’s Grip?”

“Currently engaging the Actaeon, sir.” Levinn fell silent for a second, surveying the field. They were indeed the closest ones, but by no means ‘close’. ETA would almost certainly be two minutes or more. Still, there was nothing any of the other ships could do at the moment.

“Launch Venom squadron and tell them to roll up alongside Sol. We’re going to need the skies clear of birds as we escort this blasted ship. Rikes? Rikes!? Where are the blasted Capt—” He turned and found himself facing Captain Vick of the Vengeance and Captain Streener of the Eagle. Streener raised a holographic-blue eyebrow, his mouth curving in a slight. Levinn could almost imagine his blue eyes twinkling mischievously on the other end of the channel. To his left, Vick stood with his usual combat demeanor – straight-backed, eyes straight ahead, lips pressed firm, stoic as a pillar, he was the model of a ship officer. His lips tightened somewhat upon seeing Streener. He didn’t crack jokes when there was a war on, like his fellow officer.

“Ah...Captain Vick, Captain Steeener.” They returned Levinn’s salutes in turn, Vick’s crisp and tight, Streener’s almost mockingly overdone. Vick eyes his fellow-captain with a touch of annoyance, but said nothing.

Abuptly, there was a fizz and Captain Denethor resolved into view.

“What’d I miss?” he asked, only half kidding. He looked tired, already. He probably knew just how bad this battle was going to get. Levinn didn’t envy him.

“Sir. Just making introductions,” Levinn said, saluting. Denethor nodded as if he had known all along and straightened his uniform.

“Well, as you may know, you have orders,” he said, altogether seriously.

“Other killing the traitor,” Streener deadpanned under his breath.  Denethor glared at him, but let it slide.

“New orders. You may not believe it now, but the protection of this shuttle is of the utmost importance. It supercedes the protection of your pilots, your ships, your crew, and you, yourself. See it to the Atrus at all costs.” Levinn whistled.

“Must carrying be pretty important, then,” he said, hinting at something more. Denethor shook his head.

“Nothing I’d be willing to talk about over such an insecure channel. Let’s leave it at that.” Levinn shrugged in an ‘oh-well’ sort of way, and Denthor continued. “You have your orders. See to them.” All three Captain saluted, and promptly vanished. Levinn stared at the empty space where’d they’d been for a second, shook his head, and then turned toward the viewports and his bridge officers.

“Bring us alongside the Suspense. Sublights on full.” Two minutes wasn’t such a long time. Levinn just hoped it’d be enough.

OOC:

960 words. Darn all these edits buuuut: I'd like to have Venom Squadron as well. Sol and Venom are on the Immortal. That is all.

OOC:

Tallied

Vance didn’t have to wait long to see how things played out. Mere minutes after Sol Squadron had formed up on the port side of the Immortal’s bow a squadron of enemy TIE Fighters had come screaming in, intent on dealing an early blow to the Vast Empire reinforcements. They never got a chance. One of Sol Squadron’s many strengths was its ability to launch a volley of concussion missiles that could decimate an enemy squadron at extremely long ranges. As Vance picked up the enemy TIE Fighter formation on his radar he felt that now would be an appropriate time for such a volley.

Opening a link to his squadron, Vance keyed his mic. “Alright boys, here is our first catch of the day. Concussion volley on my mark.”

With those words the Oppressor squadron quickly and expertly oriented themselves towards the incoming fighters. Now the enemy TIEs were a mere eight kilometers away and closing fast, but all they never had a chance. “Sol One, fox two,” Vance said as soon as he was aligned, firing a concussion missile at the leading enemy TIE as he did.

The rest of the squadron followed suit, each firing a single concussion missile at a single target. The missiles arced away, quick and deadly. It took a quick second for the incoming TIEs to recognize their error, but by then it was too late. Even as they broke in a desperate attempt to avoid the incoming warheads the missiles reached the group and detonated.

One well placed concussion missile can wipe out half a squadron. Two can utterly demolish them. Twelve clear the immediate area blast of anything and everything, instantly and utterly pulverizing it in a concussive wave of such magnitude that it can rip open the hulls of heavy capital ships.

Safe to say, the enemy squadron didn’t make it.

There were no victory cheers from the pilots of Sol Squadron. Such tactics were as brutal as they were unforgiving, and Vance’s pilots knew it. They realized, fully and completely, that they delivered a whole knew kind of destruction to the battlefield, a destruction that was inescapable. A destruction that was meant to strike fear into the hearts of enemy pilots and crews; a destruction that was, in the end, as totally unnecessary as it was effective.

And so it was that Sol Squadron felt a certain revulsion in what they did, but also a great pride. While the destruction and havoc they caused on the battlefield may not have been necessary, it was effective, and it ended conflicts quickly and with as little effort as possible. The destruction caused by the Oppressors meant that less Vast Empire pilots and crews had to die, and that fact alone made the horror they caused bearable.

Quickly scanning his displays for any sign of surviving hostiles, Vance took a slow breath. Such an attack always left him sick to his stomach, but it had been necessary. Slowly accelerating he began to fly a tight perimeter around the Immortal, keeping an eye out for any further hostile forces.

Twice more enemy TIE squadrons tried to attack. Sol Squadron never again unleashed such a brutal display of power as they had on the first volley, but the black sky was filled with concussion explosions and debris. Each successive attack retreated after a few losses, and Sol Squadron remained untouched. As the Immortal finally reached the thick of the fray Vance began to pick out targets for volleys, planning on establishing space superiority quickly and efficiently.

Just as he was about to issue orders to his squadron, Vance got some orders of his own. “1st Lieutenant Vance, this is Immortal Flight Control. You have orders to escort a shuttle that is about to disembark from the ISD Suspense to the SSD Atrus. This is a Code Zero priority.”

Vance mulled that over. It was going to hard to escort an unarmed and relatively unprotected shuttle through this particular fight, and the Atrus was still a ways away. Extremely hard. With a resigned sigh, Vance keyed his mic, this time relating the new orders.

“Alright Sol Squadron, we have new orders. We get to babysit a shuttle…looks like it’s at vector 297. Let’s get there fast and clear a path.”

His men responded quickly and without complaint, pointing their ships at the small shuttle leaving the docking bays of the Suspense. Together the squadron accelerated towards their new target and quickly reached it with minimal trouble. As they crossed the expanse that separated them from the shuttle, Vance noticed a squadron of TIE Interceptors quickly advancing on the squadron at their six o’clock. He tensed, then relaxed as he saw the transponder codes. It was Venom Squadron from the Immortal.

Vance opened a communications link to the Venom CO. “You guys get put on babysitting duty too?” he asked.

There was a moments silence in which Vance could almost hear the other CO laughing. “Aye. Let’s make this quick,” replied 2nd Lieutenant Geoff Alvars, commanding officer of Venom Squadron and a good friend of Vance’s.

“Roger that,” Vance agreed. “Good to have you guys along.” Right then the two squadrons reached the shuttle. They quickly took up flanking positions while the shuttle turned, slowly and awkwardly, in the Atrus’ general direction. Sol Squadron formed a tight guard around the shuttle, ready to lay down a devastating field of fire at anything that came anywhere close to striking distance. Venom squadron adopted a looser defense, utilizing the speed and range of their TIE Interceptors to cut off and destroy any threat before it neared the shuttle.

It was a stunningly effective strategy. The presence of the Oppressors provided an immediate and intimidating deterrent to any sort of attack, and the TIE Interceptors picked off enemy fighters that didn’t care about the Oppressors. For the first few minutes of the journey, things were relatively uneventful. Sol Squadron had little to do, leaving most of the fighting up to Venom squadron.

Then, suddenly, a Carrack cruiser blocked the shuttle and its escort from advancing any further. Vance’s mind reeled, trying to figure out where the enemy ship had come from. “Steady boys,” he said, not so steady himself. “Let’s take this thing out.”


***


Gunnery Sergeant William Rogers sat at his gunnery station aboard the ISD Immortal, anxiously awaiting orders. The ship had just reverted to realspace and had slowly began moving forward. William had heard the Captain’s announcement over the ships intercom and had quickly assumed his battle station. Now he was waiting for a target to fire at, along with the other seven heavy turbolasers in his battery. That was the thing he hated about his job: you rushed to get somewhere, and then you just had to wait. Sometimes the action would be on the other side of the ship and he wouldn’t even get to fire his gun. Other times he was working for hours at a time, mentally exhausting work that let a man drained.

Still, Williams loved his job. He manned one of the most powerful guns in the Galaxy, aboard one of the deadliest warships ever designed, commanded by one of the greatest Captains in the Vast Empire fleet. To say that he felt a feeling of pride would be a severe understatement. What William felt was much more akin to a sense of utter and complete self-realization. He had found his calling, and he enjoyed it immensely.

And he was good at it. Williams had one of the best records aboard the Immortal, and one of the best ratings anywhere in the Vast Empire fleet. He had been decorated many times for his performance during battle and he was expecting yet another promotion soon. Captain Levinn had told William a few weeks ago that he would soon command his own battery, and William instinctively knew that that time was coming soon. If he performed well during this particular battle maybe he could accelerate the process.

Ten minutes later William was still waiting, but he could feel the tension growing. The Immortal was nearing the battle and it wouldn’t be long before the guns were ordered to open fire. He flexed his fingers around the guns control handles, itching to open fire with the incredibly powerful turbolaser.

He didn’t have to wait long. As the Immortal drifted into position next to another ISD an enemy Carrack cruiser slid between them. With an evil grin William anticipated the order before it even came.

“Port-side battery, open fire on that Carrack,” came the voice of the Battery Commander over the ship’s intercom. William barely noticed it. As soon as he had heard the intercom ping on he had depressed the twin triggers of the turbolaser control handles, releasing heavy green bolts of pure energy that lanced out towards the Carrack.

Computers did most of the aiming for the gun batteries but there was still a certain amount of skill involved. The targeting computers had a hard time adjusting to fast moving targets, and while the Carrack wasn’t a speed boat it was quick enough to present a difficult target. William adjusted his aim slightly, then opened up again with the gun. He could see the tracers from his laser blasts arc into the shields of the Carrack, along with multiple other blasts from other guns in the battery. After a few short minutes the Carrack, never meant as a Ship-Of-The-Line, cracked, its shields sparking out of existence. Now the lasers hit the light armor of the ship, tearing huge gaping holes in its side. Bodies were sucked out, atmosphere vented into the vacuum of space, and all lights went out on the ship. The engines sputtered and died, and the small capital ship began listing, slowly floating away from the battle.

William didn’t notice any of that. After the Carrack’s shields cracked he had turned his attention to more important matters like the twin Victory Star Destroyers that were fast approaching out of his viewport.

Things were about to get a lot more interesting.

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Tikali stood on the bridge of Triton, a grin on his face as he let the Tehk’la dance in his hands. It was a habit of his when he was anxious, and if any of the commanders of the ships weren’t nervous, they weren’t alive.

The Nagai turned and looked at his crew, his gray eyes scanning his assembled crew. A grin flickered over his face as he spun the blade one last time before sliding it into it’s sheath next to it’s twin. He wore four of them, a status symbol of sorts.

Tikali moved his hand to the comm switch and gave it a flip, a brief ringing filling the entire ship as the rarely used system came to life. Most of the time he sent runners to the various locations on the ship he needed information from, but in a massive battle like this, instant communication was necessary.

“Attention all hands. Battle stations! Our targets are the fleet of carracks at twelve degrees off port.”

No cheers, no “aye-ayes”, nothing but simple nods. The decks became organized chaos on a massive scale as pilots jumped into their ships and gunners took up their positions on the turrets. Engineers behind consoles began to call out ship signatures of the approaching carrack fleet, letting other crew members try to lock onto their comm frequencies and scramble their transmissions.

Tikali watched through the main viewport on the bridge as the Triton began to turn, lining the launch bays even with the cruisers. A brief flash erupted over the screen, an incoming volley of simple blaster fire. Tilaki moved behind a control console and dialed his shields to deflect the head on assault.

The Nagai was known for taking some matters into his own hands, and he felt as comfortable behind the control console of his ship as he did with those Tehk’las in his hands. Another volley hit the shields before the Steel and Pillager fighter squadrons erupted from their hangars.

Tikali smiled as he saw the ion streams behind the squadrons. It was going to be a rough day for anyone meeting up with his ruthless pilots. Orders were given beforehand that if it can be destroyed, it needs to be destroyed. No ship nor escape pod was granted permission to survive this.

The captain moved the Triton closer towards the assembled carracks who were beginning to form a defensive picket line. He shook his head, wondering if they had any clue what the Star Destroyer approaching them could do.

Another flip to the comm switch, another short squeal of protest before the channel was opened. “Gunners, you have your targets. Fire at will, and don’t stop until I tell you. Careful of the Pillager and Steel squadrons.”

A singular “aye-aye” was received from the crewman in charge of the gunners, Petty Officer 1st Class Xavier Proth. Proth was having the time of his life, and he decided to sweeten the pot.

“Alright lackeys! First one of you to manage to down one of them birds will get a week of R&R on Abrae, paid for by me!” That got a cheer from the gunners, who began to push their weapons to their limits.

“Careful! You blow that gun, you pay for my R&R!” he roared as he slapped the back of the gunner’s head, growling as he walked up and down the row of turret operators. Bright flashes could be seen on the carracks across the field, and he knew that by targeting them all at once there was no chance for any of them to group up and form a cohesive defense strategy.

Tikali turned to an ensign and nodded once, who stood up and ran off the bridge and down the hall to a waiting turbolift. This lift took him one place and one place only, to the torpedo bay. The ensign relayed the captain’s orders to the crewmen there before turning and sprinting back to the lift to rejoin his captain and enjoy the show.

The captain was standing before the viewport again, watching as the first of the torpedoes were launched. These weren’t the average, run of the mill torpedoes equipped on the TIE fighters, these were the slicker advanced types. These faster, more agile projectiles could easily find their way through a ship’s hull before proper counter measures could be taken, and that was what Tikali wanted. He wanted to keep these cocky freckers guessing until the others had the Star Destroyers taken care of.

Tikali radioed to his fighter squadrons. “Attention all craft. Focus your attacks on the carracks’ engines. Disable these ships so that we can bring in boarding parties.” If anyone asked, he’d deny it, but deep down he wanted a few of those as shiny new baubles in his crown.

The squadrons broke into smaller flights, each smaller flight breaking apart into pairings. Tikali watched on his console as the pairs began their assault, keeping the slow gunners of the carracks guessing. The captain assumed that the carracks weren’t carrying fighters, because none had yet deployed. His guess was that the ruse by the enemy’s admiral was generally thought to be fool-proof, and the carracks held foot soldiers instead.

Tikali pulled the Tehk’la from it’s sheath and spun it in his hand, the only outward sign of his anxiousness for this to be over. He wanted to stare into the eyes of any captured enemy, to see the terror in their faces before they were executed. He would make sure he did a few of the executions himself, as he was pretty sure that Dark Jedi Vox and his brother wouldn’t miss a few hostiles.

The thought of the executions made him smile. There was no honor to the sneak attack performed here, so these enemy combatants had to redeem themselves. And what better way than a fight to the death. Tikali tossed the knife in the air caught the blade between his fingers, giving a flick of his wrist to send it back into it’s sheath.

“Crewman Cranth. Open a channel to the carracks and inform them that unless they surrender, they will never live to tell of this battle to family members. Let me know if any even bother to reply.”

With that, the captain walked off the bridge, moving into his quarters. He sat before a monitor, giving him updates of the battle and any losses he’d suffer. He didn’t plan on suffering any, just as the carracks didn’t plan on being the focus of a Star Destroyer.

With the sigh of a man who’d rather be leading a charge than watching from the sidelines, the Nagai leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, thinking of how simpler things had been under Palpatine. 

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Lieutenant Ertan Clar screamed out as the Corvette Callisto dropped out of Hyperspace, "Hard to port! Get us out of range! Gunners engage!" Looking at the screen as his men scurry to carry out his orders, he examines the tactical situation, watching as the Dominance and Nemesis both unleash their broadsides at the attacking Dominion ships. Making a decision he quickly countermands his last order and instead orders, “Bring us in closer to the Liberator and engage them, order the gunners to specifically target the guns, I want to disable them and possibly allow them to be boarded by forces from one of the destroyers.” “Aye sir” comes the response from the ensign who serves as his first officer. It is echoed by the other enlisted crew members as everyone carries out his orders.

The Callisto moves in close to the Liberator and engages, not aiming for the vital systems, but instead disabling the guns, using her superior speed and mobility, as well as the relatively heavy armament for a small warship. (due in part to the work done by Lieutenant Clar and his engineering section, up-gunning the warship.) Although nothing appears different about the ship from the outside, the generators used to power the guns have been linked to those which provide power for the engines. Drawing power from these same reactors, they managed to double the output of the weapons, giving the Callisto combat capability equal to a Carrack Cruiser during testing. Although it was as yet untested in combat.

Back on the bridge, Clar decides that it is time to test out the new weapons upgrades, so he begins to give orders. “Have the Ion Cannon gunner take out the shields on the Liberator.” “Aye sir, Ion Gunner targeting shields.” comes the response from his bridge gunnery officer, PO2 Lyrat Tor. Watching the blue bolts slam into the flanks of the Liberator, Clar issues his next set of orders. “Bridge to Engine Room.” “You calling for some extra power sir?” answers ENS Tormal Toban, his chief engineering officer. “Yes, let's see if she is equal to a Carrack during actual combat, as well as during testing, shall we?” “I'd be happy too. I've worked a bit more on the theory too.” And with that the lights dim a bit as power is diverted from the lighting and other systems which it can be spared from, surging into the guns. Watching as the shields of the Liberator flicker and die, Clar begins to give targeting orders. “Gunners, target only their guns and targeting sensors, I do not want to destroy that ship.”

As the guns began firing they were imbued with a different, slightly deeper sound, and the results also showed clearly the changes that had come from the diversion of power. As the crew watched in amazement on the bridge of the Callisto, their first strikes did not just merely strike the surface of the gunnery emplacements on the Liberator, they actually went straight through the emplacements, piercing the armor and exposing the gunners inside to vacuum. As the Liberator attempted to bring her other side to bear on the Callisto, Lieutenant Clar would have none of it, and he began to give orders. “Follow her, don't let her bring the other guns to bear, I want surgical strikes against her power plant, force her to shut down.” “Yes sir!”

The Liberator turns tightly, attempting to bring her few remaining guns to bear on the Callisto, but the corvette matches her every move, and continues to perform surgical strikes against the Carrack Cruiser, wearing down her defenses. In a last ditch effort the commanding officer of the Liberator decides to try and roll his ship, hoping to bring to bear the few remaining guns. However this is a mistake as it brings the vulnerable underbelly of the Liberator, and the quickest route to the power plants, right in front of the Gunners of the Callisto if they should choose to take advantage of it. Immediately seizing the opportunity to completely disable the Liberator, Lieutenant Clar gives the order to target the main reactor, and the Callisto's gunners disable the larger craft.

Admiring the aftermath of their engagement, Lieutenant Clar turns to his communications officer, telling him to pass along the information about how to increase the ships firepower to the other ships, with their engagement as an example.

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"Alright, everyone. Be prepared for anything that comes our way."

Those words came from the mouth of General Axem Masedi as he sat in the middle of the bridge, waiting for the word when the Dreadnaught Dementor was close to coming out of hyperspace. The mission was simple to his eyes, engage the enemy and make sure that no one survives this assault. He knew that the odds were against him on how such an attack was going to be successful, but he was always an eternal optimist. He had faith that this attack was going to be a great victory for he and his men, and that they were going to celebrate another victory for the glory of the Vast Empire.

"We're approaching the battleground, sir," said one of the navigators.

"Get us out of hyperspace. I want a missile lock on the nearest enemy cruiser out there."

"Yes, sir."

The Dementor slowed itself down as it exited out of lightspeed, bringing the battle scene already into focus. Some of the friendly capitol ships were already engage into a fight with the enemy, and it was time for them to do the same. Veering a slow right turn, the Dreadnaught foudn itself a few klicks away from one of the enemy's Carrack Cruisers, the Inferno. General Masedi stood up from his chair and looked at the screens that were in front of him, looking at the ship that was nearby him.

"What's our status?"

"Shields are at full and weapons are ready when you give the word."

"And our missile lock?"

"It's on the ship and ready."

"Good. Fire two missiles at the ship's shield generator and follow it up with cannon fire. I want to see that ship destroyed and give our fighters a fighting chance out there."

"Yes, sir."

Upon its command, the Dementor launched two of its concussion missiles out of its bay, streaking towards the Inferno at an incredible speed. Seeing this, the enemy shot at the missiles with its turbolasers as it tried to maneuver out it missiles' path, but the fast projectiles were too swift for their guns. The missiles struck the ship's left side, rocking it with some impact as the enemy's guns were now pointed and fired on the Dreadnaught. The Dementor responded in kind with its quad turbolasers as it struck the Inferno with accuracy. General Masedi rocked with the motion of the ship being struck with enemy fire.

"Shields?"

"Shields are holding at 80%. Their shields are at 10% and failing."

"Tell our TIE squadron to prepare for launch and attack as soon as I give the word. Aim one missile at the bridge of that cruiser, and that should be the knockout blow."

"Yes, sir."

The Inferno, seeing how much damage that it has taken at a short period, decided to try and retreat as it turned away from the Dementor's path of cannon fire. The large plumes of billowing smoke that came from specific points of its hull was enough of a signal to show that the battle was going to be won by the Dreadnaught. At that point, another Carrack cruiser, the Luna Negra, was approaching the scene to provide cover fire in order for its fellow cruiser to escape. However, the concussion missile that was ordered by General Masedi was launched, heading towards the wounded ship's bridge port. By this point, its shields were gone, making it easy for the missile to strike its destination, destroying the cruiser in a blaze of orange and yellow fire.

General Masedi was all smiles.

"Well done. Now, concentrate all fire on that arriving cruiser. Tell the TIE's to launch and attack that cruiser as well. The battle will be won by us."

"Yes, sir. All TIEs, launch."

General Masedi watched on as the Dementor fired its guns at the Luna Negra, seeing the attack unfold as the TIE squadron entered the fray as well as their cannons struck the shielding of the cruiser. The Vast Empire will win this battle. They have to.

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As Lieutenant Clar looks across the battlefield at the Dominion Star Destroyer Akira, he sees it is moving to engage the Triton, which was about to be overrun by the enemy if something wasn't done about those Carrack cruisers which still had working weapons systems. Examining the Akira's course and the locations of the Carracks the Lieutenant begins to give orders to his bridge crew.

“Helm, take us down behind the third Carrack in there, the one almost parallel to the Akira.”

As the Callisto moved out of sight behind the Carrack cruiser she disappeared from the sensors of the Akira, which was exactly what Lieutenant Clar had been planning. Conferring quietly with his Helmsman and Chief Gunner Lieutenant Clar makes his plans.

As the Akira moves to engage the Triton, it passes abreast of the Carrack cruisers, and with its forward shields reinforced to protect against the expected attack from the Triton, her side shields are weaker. All of a sudden, as the Akira begins to turn in order to engage the Triton, she is hit by a barrage of turbolaser bolts seemingly originating from the batteries on the far side of the listing Transcendence. The bridge of the Akira erupts in chaos as the commanding officer panics, ordering the shields equalized around the ship and thinking that the Carrack Cruisers have been captured by the VE and that they are now firing on him. Ordering his gunners to engage the Carrack Cruisers he prepares to try and fight his way out of the encirclement he believes is about to be attempted.

Due to his relative inexperience and the panic that was gripping him the young officer did not connect the disappearance of the Corvette Callisto with the attacks against his ship, which to him felt like they had come from the turbolasers of a Carrack Cruiser.

Back on the bridge of the Callisto Lieutenant Clar turns to the Leading Crewman who had recommended the use of the upgrades to make it appear that the strikes were actually coming from one of the damaged Carracks rather than the Corvette and said.
“Excellent work, I'm promoting you to Senior Crewman, effective immediately, and I want you to work with Chief Petty Officer Slamb Nuba in the gunnery section on devising further maneuvers that can be done using this upgrade. You are also transferred to the Gunnery Section, and you are answerable only to CPO Nuba, the XO, and Myself. Understood?”

“Yes sir!” Comes the response of the new SCR.

Turning back to the engagement taking place on the screen Clar watches as the first shots from the Akira begin to hit the Carrack Cruisers and although startled the Cruisers quickly begin to return fire.

As the Callisto moves away from the engagement between the Carracks and the Akira, one of the Akira's barrages hits a Carrack straight on and the rear third of the ship simply disintegrates as the structural supports are overwhelmed by the sheer power of the Destroyers fire. Smiling to himself as he observes this on the screen Lieutenant Clar mentally chalks up another kill for the Callisto.

As the Carracks engage the Akira they are desperately trying to contact the commanding officer of the Akira, unsure of whether the ship has defected, fallen into enemy hands, or has been misidentified. Unfortunately for them the gunners of the Callisto had thought of this, and the first target eliminated by the sneak attack was the communications array, effectively isolating the ship from the rest of the fleet.

As the Callisto moves back toward the primary engagement with the remaining destroyers, her sensors pick up a flight of Dominion Fighters on an attack course for the Corvette Amalthea, and Lieutenant Clar decides to go lend his fellow cruiser a hand. Quickly giving his orders he sets the Callisto in motion to assist the Amalthea.

“Helmsman, plot in a pursuit course behind and slightly to the right of that squadron, I don't want us to be hit my the Amalthea when she opens fire on the fighters.”

“Aye Sir,”

“Bridge to engineering, I want power diverted from the guns to the engines,”

“Aye sir,”

His XO unsure of the order walks over and leans in to quietly confer with his CO. “Captain, if we decrease the power to the weapons our shots will not be as effective.”

“I know Ensign, but by adding power to the engines we increase both our speed and maneuverability, and even at half power the guns will be more than capable of dealing with that squadron of TIEs.”

“My apologies for doubting you Captain.”

“Do not be, you will learn nothing if you do not question the wisdom of my actions, and if someday you hope for a command of your own then you do well to continue asking these questions.”

“Aye Captain” after thinking for a few moments his XO speaks again. “Wouldn't it be even better if we were to modify the guns to stutter-fire? It would increase the number of shots which we were firing, which would be good against fighters as maneuverable as the TIEs, and it would free up more power that could be put into either engines or shields.”

“You think we can move the power that way number one?”

“There is no reason we shouldn't be able to, it is no different than what we do to modulate the shields to strengthen whichever section is going to be taking the most fire. All we have to do is get that power from the guns instead of from the other shield generators.”

“Do it,”

Turning back from his conversation with his XO, Lieutenant Clar watches the viewscreen as the fighters begin their attack on the Amalthea, the corvette begins firing on them as the fighters swarm her and attack from all sides. However, unlike attacking other capital ships, the Fighters have to be careful because the Corvette has the speed and maneuverability to evade fighters to a degree, and this maneuverability also makes a hit and run attack much harder to do because the Corvette can actually give chase.

As they dive in to attack the Amalthea the fighter pilots never realize that they have another corvette on their tail until the Callisto opens fire on them. As 2 TIEs lose power and spin away off course, one of the crewmen on the bridge of the Callisto wonders aloud,

“Why didn't they take evasive action? The aft sensors of the fighters must have picked us up...”

Knowing that his crew is doing their jobs and are more than capable of handling the fighters despite the fact they are coming back around now to engage the Callisto also, Clar turns to the Crewman, who is the comm officer, and explains,

“They did pick us up, but there are several possible explanations for what just happened. The most likely one is that while the sensors did pick us up, they did not accurately show the speed with which we were closing on the fighters, this is partially due to our speed being much higher than the speed of a Corvette would normally be, but also we are a large enough ship that we could be picked up much farther out than a fighter would be, and the pilots were probably planning on finishing their run on the Amalthea before they moved to engage us. Expecting us to only be approaching weapons range at normal speed, they were not prepared when we opened fire from behind.”

Turning back to the viewscreen Clar watched as the only 3 fighters of the squadron which hadn't been destroyed yet began retreating. Turning to his XO he says,

“Damage report Number One, I felt some shaking during the engagement, so I know something happened.”

“We took some damage down in the Engine Room, they report 4 casualties, but that they have locked down the damage and expect there to be no drop in performance.”

“Very Good, let's see what we shall hunt now.”

Forming up with the Amalthea, the two corvettes turn back toward the primary engagement, and as they race back into the fight, the old, experienced Captain of the Amalthea, Commander Ghevrant, and the young and promising captain of the Callisto, Lieutenant Clar, the two men, similar but different, the old and the new, thinking the same thing as they stand upon their respective bridges,


“This is why I command Corvettes!”

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Vance didn’t like where this fight was going. When the Carrack had suddenly appeared before him, things had looked bad. Then they had begun to take a turn for the better with the arrival of the Corvette battle group. And now that the battle group was crippled and on the run, things were looking very bad again. Not to mention that now there was an enemy TIE Defender squadron headed right for them.

With practiced ease Vance studied his tactical displays, taking a few moments to figure out what the hell he was going to do. The incoming enemy Defender squadron was the biggest threat and they had to be taken care of first. Packing lots of firepower along with incredible speed they were extremely lethal. If a close-range entanglement, a ‘dog fight’, took place, the Defenders would almost certainly come out on top.

Sighing reluctantly, Vance spoke over the general Vast Empire frequency. “This is Lt. Vance Talbot of Sol Squadron. We have incoming Defenders marked at vector 122. Leave them to us.”

There were various acknowledgements from flight controls and squadrons nearby. Soon the Defenders were flying through an empty patch of space. If they realized what was about to happen, they didn’t show it.

“Alright boys, salvo on my mark,” Vance said, this time speaking over the squadron frequency. Once again the Oppressors oriented themselves to the fast approaching Defenders, paused, and then let loose a devastating salvo of concussion missiles.

The Defenders happened to be much closer than the first squadron of TIE Fighters had been. They also happened to be better pilots flying faster, more maneuverable, and better shielded ships. The missiles arced away, racing towards their targets, and immediately the Defenders broke. The result was multiple separated concussive waves rather than one giant blast. It didn’t matter. Six of the twelve Defenders were immediately destroyed. Four lost at least one of their wings, causing them to spiral away before either crashing or exploding. The other two had their shields torn away and their hulls severely mangled. It didn’t take long for Venom squadron to finish them off.

Vance had to take a moment and marvel at the effectiveness of the Oppressor. He honestly didn’t know why the ships weren’t used more often. They were undeniably effective in both long range anti-fighter duties and anti-capital ship duties, and although they were expensive Vance figured that the ship more than paid for itself in the lives it saved.

Blinking, the Sol CO snapped back to reality. The Carrack cruiser had moved to chase down and intercept one of the friendly corvettes, and it didn’t look like the Vast Empire ship was going to last long. Vance and his squadron had to do something before the enemy Carrack managed to cripple the friendly capital ship. The fight was going to be hard enough as it was; Vance didn’t want to lose a perfectly good ship when the Vast Empire was already so tight on resources.

Pointing his Oppressor towards the Carrack, he slammed the throttle all the way forward. Obediently his craft jumped forward, screaming towards the Carrack. The rest of Sol Squadron followed him in without having to be ordered to do so. Vance let himself feel a second of pride at his squadron’s discipline before refocusing on the task at hand.

Carracks were well armed vessels, but not particularly well defended. Sol Squadron’s TIE Oppressors carried four heavy proton torpedoes each, warheads that could easily cripple the Carrack if they could get close enough to fire them.

Weaving through the green and blue lances of turbolaser and ion cannon fire issuing from the Carrack, Vance began to pick out targets on the small enemy capital ship. There wasn’t much to choose from as most of the Carracks systems were internal. In the end Vance decided to fire a simple salvo at the now-broadside cruiser. The effects would at least give the friendly corvettes time to escape, and would quite possible cripple the Carrack.

“Alright, approaching firing range. All fighters, arm proton warheads,” Vance commanded over the squadron comlink. One by one the representations of his pilots on his tactical displays lit up gold. The torpedoes were armed. “Fire on my mark…fire!”

As one the twelve fighters let loose their most devastating weapons. The torpedoes slid away from the Oppressors, and Vance pulled his ship into a sharp climb. It wasn’t wise to stick around and see such an explosion up close.

It was then that he noticed one of his pilots didn’t pull up. Checking his transponder Vance saw that Sol Five hadn’t yet pulled up. If he didn’t do so soon he would be caught in the blast radius.

“Five, pull up. You’ll gonna get fried,” Vance ordered quickly. There was no time.

There was a pause, and then the voice of Sol Five came over the radio, calm and assured. “I can’t boss. My reactor died. I’m drifting now.”

Vance swore. He had known that the reactor would be a problem, but the techs had assured everyone that it would work just fine. Now it was going to get one of his pilots killed.

“Emergency power? Repulsor lifts?” Vance inquired frantically.

Another moment of silence. “Nothing boss. It’s ok. It was good flying with you,” Five responded.

Then the torpedoes hit the Carrack.

The result was a blinding flash of light quickly suppressed by the vacuum of space. The damage was done, though. The Carrack immediately listed to one side, sporting ten huge holes in its side. Two of the protons had gone wide and had harmlessly imploded when they didn’t make contact with the target. Of Sol Five there was no sign.

“Blast!” Vance swore, and he wasn’t the only one. Pushing away his anger and grief for a later time, he keyed his mic into the corvette battle group frequency. “You’re clear, Captain. Get this shuttle to safety. We have a buddy to avenge.”

With that he turned his ship around, heading back towards the center of the fight. The Oppressors were on the move, and they were hungry for vengeance. On either side of the squadron, the Venom Interceptors took up flanking positions.

Vance didn’t say anything. He simply flew on, picking out his new target as he went.

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“Frigging shit!” Neels yelled over the comm.

“Cut the chatter,” Lieutenant Harper scolded.

“But did you see that! One of the Opressors went...just...it was—”

“Shut up Neels,” Harper interjected firmly. As if morale in Venom squadron wasn’t low enough already, Neels had to freak out on the public comlink. Harper’s fingers slowly tightened around his yoke.

Three ships. Venom Squadron had lost four ships since exiting their hangar, an entire flight. Grezweln, chased down by two Interceptors, had left Harper without an XO on the battlefield, and Neels’ flight leader had perished just before that. It

“Venom two, form up on my starboard side, thirty degrees back. Three, match the maneuver, four hang back and be ready to assist,” he commanded in short, clipped tones. Harper wanted no mistakes, especially ones caused by lack of pronunciation on his part. “Turn to starboard, eighty-degrees. Two squadrons inbound. Prepare for intercept.”

Each order was followed by a brief string of ayes, eight in all. It was somewhat disconcerting. He was used to his Flight Leader’s voices, and the voices of his own flight, but not the whole squadron. He shook off the feeling and looked down at his radar. Two squadrons of TIE fighters would be daunting to a single, whole TIE/In squadron, and a rather large threat to a partially crippled one.

A thousand meters and closing. Harper toggled his fire to the main weapons and lined up his shot. Five hundred meters. At his command, flight four peeled off from the rest of the squadron, heading left. And aligning themselves with the second TIE squadron. If he could get them tangled up, then the first squadron would go down much more quickly. A three hundred meters, both sides began firing. Green darts lanced their way through the void, racing toward the TIEs on both sides. Herz, Venom’s 3-2,  cried out as he took a hit on his port wing, but Harper didn’t have a chance to respond. The TIEs were on them.

Harper pulled his Interceptor around hard , narrowly avoiding the wing of an enemy fighter. His adjustment put an enemy fighter right between his sights, almost as if it’d been sitting there, waiting for him to line up with it. His Interceptor spat green death and ripped apart the enemy TIEs right wing. It went careening off, away from the battle, but Harper had already looked away. He had two fighters on his tail, already gunning for him.

Harper dove, and pulled out prematurely, dropping him just below the level of the dogfight. He hoped to outmaneuver the fighters before they could get their sights on him. The first one shot overhead, just as Harper had wanted, but the second one wasn’t so easily fooled. It spun, executing a sharp port turn down behind Harper’s ship. The Dominion pilot opened up, green shots filling the air around Harper Interceptor.

He cursed , ducking his fighter to the left and right, denying the enemy an easy shot. It was all a matter of numbers, though. There was only so long he could hold out before the fighter got him.

There was an explosion, lighting up the cockpit through the back viewports. Harper craned around to find an Interceptor where there had been an regular TIE before.

“Sorry about before, sir,” Neels calmed, sobered by the fight. “I guess that makes us even now.”

“I guess it does,” he murmured into the comm, and pushed his fighter back up and into the fight. Neels fell in behind him.




Herz pulled on his yoke hard. For a second, it felt like it was going to break in his grasp, but then he was out of the spiral and into the fray. He leveled out, firing off a volley at a Dominion fighter as it went past. The shots went wide, but the fighter was forced to dip, straight into Kenner’s line of fire. The enemy ship popped like an over-ripened fruit, putting debris right in Herz’s face. He grunted and sped his ship through.

He wasn’t on his game. That should’ve been his kill right there, not Kenner’s. That was at least the third ship he’d missed a shot at today. He felt like he was actually getting worse. This wasn’t like him. He just wasn’t ready for flying, not here, not now. He felt all wound up, too jumpy. He nearly fired at one of his own craft more times than he could count. Maybe it was because they were facing other TIE fighters. There was something inherently wrong with shooting down a TIE with a TIE. Get over it, he commanded himself, trying to steel his nerves. It hadn’t worked in the past thirty minutes, but he kept trying.

Anothe Dominion craft popped up and Herz pushed his throttle up. This one was his.

His Interceptor easily matched speed with the inferior Dominion fighter. It had noticed him now, and was making half-hearted attempts at maneuvers. It slid off in a sort of barrel roll, dived up, and did a vertical reverse to come out above Herz. Or, at least, he would’ve, if Herz hadn’t followed him trhough the entire process. He lined up his sights, waited for the satisfying lock chime, and let rip.

There were two loud bangs, like a sledgehammer hitting a sheet of metal.  Herz’s craft went spinning out of control. The yoke froze up in his hands as the stars and ships outside spun wildly past.  The G-forces compressed Herz into his seat. If it wasn’t for his helmet, he probably would’ve passed out a long time before that. As it was, vision graying and his blood drumming in his ears, he barely managed to control the ship’s flight. Immediately he hit the thrusters and shot forward. The space he’d just occupied was torn apart in a hail of blaster bolts as the TIE came in for another pass.

As soon as the shots began to flash around him again, Herz pulled up and braked, letting the smaller, less maneuverable craft shoot underneath him. His computer instantly got a lock. He depressed the trigger and the ship went up in a flash, leaving a halo of debris where it’d once been. Just like that, he’d made his first kill of the day. Grinning, he powered forward, thirsty for more.

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1056 words.

Streener straightened his jacket and looked out into the battle from his perch in the command spire of the Eagle. It was raging fierce as ever, just forty-seven minutes since it had began. Quite a lightshow, he mused quietly. Like cosmic fireworks, blossoming in the void outside. Sometimes, very rarely, a carrack or corvette would go up. Those were especially exciting, lighting up the space for thousands of meters in any direction. It was almost beautiful. Almost.

Streener’s mouth smiled a bit at the irony of his pilots deaths being ‘beautiful’. Those were his men out their dying and he was the one sitting in the climate controlled command bridge ordering them to do it. And he was calling that beautiful. It was times like this that he found comfort in his years-old saying: war sucks. The sooner people came to grips with that fact, the sooner they could get about ending them. Although, Streener noted with a bit of irony again, he’d come to grips with that a long time ago, and he’d never so much as caught a glimpse of the end of war.

Tiredly, he sighed. He took off his cap, squeezing it tightly in his hand, so hard he wondered why it didn’t burst already. The lights outside continued to flash, but Streener wasn’t looking anymore. He was tired of this, this life, this bloody war. He’d been fighting for the Vast Empire since practically the day he joined. He’d risen, stepping over the dead and the incompetent, to become a ship commander. It was the highest aspiration of every cadet to some day lead a ship into battle, meet the foe head on, bring massive destruction of a Star Destroyer to bear. Now that Streener actually had reached that lofty point in his career, he couldn’t see why it was so coveted. It was hard, doing what he did. Sending youthful men, all of them mirrors of himself just a few years back, off to an inevitable demise, one of hundreds, thousands, a nameless piece of slag drifting forever in the empty space. He felt for every pilot he sent off to their death. He was the one that had ordered them out, he was the one who had sent them to die. Such thoughts wore down on a man after a while.

The deck under his feet shuddered slightly, and Streener looked off to the left. In his small reverie, he’d almost forgotten that they were still engaged with an enemy capital ship. Outside the viewport, the Tarkin’s Fist let fly another volley aimed at the prow of the Eagle. Almost every shot hit their mark, washing over the shield and causing more tremors in the deck.

“How are they doing?” Streener asked his senior aide. The man glanced up at his captain and then back down at his screen.

“Shields are holding at 85%. They’ve rerouted power to strengthen them, but are still maintaining forward gun batteries.”

“I can see why. Those gunners are some pretty damn good shots,” Streener muttered, walking closer to the viewport. He turned back toward his aide. “What are we maintaining?”

“95% shields, sir. All batteries firing.” Streener gritted his teeth. This was going to be a long, slow duel, each one grinding each other down until the Victory-class finally broke or ran. Unless someone did something crazy, at least.

“Cease fire. Reroute power from the gun batteries to the engines,” Streener ordered, his voice not quavering in the slightest. “Full speed ahead. Prepare to engage the Tarkin’s Fist.”

“Sir?”

“You heard me!”  Streener roared. People would die for this. Close quarter ship combat was a messy, desperate affair, where every shot counted. It would finish the ordeal up quickly , but there would be casualties. Then again, Streener reminded himself, war sucked. That’s just the way things were.

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641 words. The Eagle is engaging the Tarkin's Fist up close and personal.

Re-entering the primary battlefield both the Corvettes go their separate ways. Looking again at the viewscreen Lieutenant Clar examines the situation, and seeing the retreating Akira, begins giving orders.

“Take us in helm, I want to overtake those retreating fighters before they can reach the Akira.”

“Aye sir”

As the Callisto pours on the speed in order to keep the fighters in range as the guns begin to open up. The helmsman and gunners were so intent on their targets before them that they never saw the Carrack Cruiser which had been listing behind them right herself and unload a full broadside into the Callisto.

On the bridge of the Callisto chaos erupts, as do several consoles,

“Sir, it's the Ca--” An explosion silences his sensorman in the middle of his report. Turning quickly to his helmsman Lieutenant Clar orders,

“Get us out of--” He stops as he sees the body, or rather the charred remains, of his helmsman slumped over the console. He begins to give another order

“Number one take the---”

which turns out to be his final order, as an explosion claims the promising young Lieutenant as its prize.

Seeing his CO fall, Ensign Torvan Tilbu instantly takes control of the Bridge, but as he turns to give an order. The Corvette gave a mighty lurch as the Callisto blacks out with a mighty lurch.


It takes Ensign Tilbu a moment to remember where he is as he regains consciousness, struggling to his feet the young man looks around the bridge taking stock of the situation. Looking around at the various bridge stations, the Ensign checks to see which bridge personnel are still alive. He counts 10 down, including his CO, with only 2 other men apparently still alive, they are also struggling to their feet. Quickly giving orders before they are caught up in the deaths of the majority of the bridge crew, he orders one of them to check on the condition of the engines, ordering the other to see if he can raise engineering or any of the other sections.

“Aye sir” comes the immediate responses of each man.

Walking over to the body of his fallen commander, Tilbu kneels and looks for a moment into the still features of his former CO, memorizing the features before leaning over and closing the eyes of his CO and dear friend. He whispers softly to him as he does so, “I'm gonna bring her home Clar, I'll bring her home...” wiping the tears from his eyes as he stands back up Tilbu turns to the men he had set to their tasks and requests a report.

“I have been unable to reach engineering sir, but most other sections have reported in, current casualty reports indicate 39 dead, wait... getting a response from engineering....” listening intently the crewman acknowledges the report and turns to the Ensign. “Engineering reports that they have 1 death and that almost everything on board is down, we are on emergency reserve power, and are currently adrift, they estimate that artificial gravity will fail in about... Well now” He says as they feel themselves beginning to float upward from the deck.

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Half an hour later...

Coming back onto the bridge after his trip to engineering, Tilbu speaks to the crew which is assembled there.

“We have managed to get enough out of our sensors to confirm what we were afraid of. The reason that we have not been assisted or boarded is because we are no longer in the combat zone, for some reason we made a Hyperspace jump just as we were hit, and we are not sure where we are, or how long it took for the hyperdrive to bring us back out.”

“So we are adrift in some system far from the battle?”

“No, we are adrift in the middle of nowhere, the sensors are not yet up to their normal capability, but they have yet to detect anything larger than a few particles across.”

“Except us” pipes up a crewman who had stopped working on the electrical unit he had been working on.

“We will be soon if you don't get to work on that.”

“Aye Sir”

Walking to his quarters for a quick nap, because there is not much he can do to hurry up the repairs or figure out where they are, and once those things have been done they will be going back into battle, so it is important that he is well rested. Which is why he changed the ship into 3 shifts just before he went to sleep, this way 1/3rd of the crew will always be sleeping, 1/3rd will always be eating/ relaxing/ working out, and the final 1/3rd is working on repairs.

As the Collisto drifts through space, away from any known system, and licking her wounds. Those members of her crew not directly involved at that moment in repairing the ship looked out into space, or lay in their bunks staring at the ceiling, wondering whether they would be missed as having suffered a freak accident and a rescue mission be attempted, or if they would simply be marked on the list of the casualties. This thought, and the associated hope or dread is what these men and women felt as they drifted off to sleep or laid into their meals.

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894 words

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The pitch battle waged on for nearly an hour. The Raven keeping the Nomad pushed against the planets gravity well, while it's greater shields and weaponry kept the Raven at bay. Captain Zamtrev had a brief glimpse of inspiration and ordered, “Get us closer and concentrate all fire just in front of its engines.”  The Raven's guns fired in a flurry of red and green blaster bolts as it closed the gap between itself and the Nomad. As the Raven closed in its blaster fire hit harder and harder penetrating the Nomad's deflector shield. The blaster fire hit its mark, just forward of its engines, fuel in the form of gas and vapor erupted from the hull mixing with trace amounts of oxygen and on the next volley of blaster fire the entire mixture erupted, violently consuming the entire ship in an intense green fire ball. The explosion rocked the Nomad hard, sending it careening into the atmosphere of Roku Tan. With its deflector shields dwindling and the extra damage done to it, the Nomad began to break up in Roku Tan's atmosphere. Entering the mid atmosphere of the planet  the Nomad's engines ruptured critical fuel and set the entire ship off in a cataclysmic explosion of immense proportions, the clouds and weather patterns of Roku Tan being disrupted in a terrifyingly beautiful display of destruction.

The entire ship cheered and Captain Zamtrev announced on the comms, “The Nomad is down! The Nomad is down!” With out much thought Captain Zamtrev began issuing new orders. “Balance out the deflector shields, damage control teams you have two minutes to get back in to positions. We're going after another one.”

Giving a personal congratulations to Mr. Cidman, Captain Zamtrev stated “I don't think our next target will fall for the same trick. Do you Mr. Cidman?”

Mr. Cidman shook his head and replied, “No sir?”

Captain Zamtrev nodded and asked, “Mr. Cidman are you familiar with the maneuver known as the “Skindancer” maneuver?”

Mr. Cidman nodded “Yes sir.”

Captain Zamtrev grinned “Than on my mark I'm giving you free stick of the Raven and I want you to perform it. Are you comfortable with this task?”

The reply was simple, “Yes Sir,” with a wide grin crossing the helmsman's face.

“Set course to engage the Vicino,” was Captain Zamtrevs next order. The Raven engines roared to life and made for the next Carrack cruiser the Vicino. “Fortify forward Deflector shields, ready aft weapons, get ready Mr. Cidman its about your time to shine.” Mr. Cidman donned a special HUD display eye piece and cracked his knuckles in response to Captain Zamtrev's orders. The Raven was soon upon the Vicino like a raptor fighting a t-rex. The Vicino engaged the Raven and, in anticipation to what it thought was going to be the Ravens next move, set an intercept course blocking the Ravens escape to Roku Tan's gravity well. Captain Zamtrev gave the order, “Now MR. Cidman the ship's all yours.” Mr. Cidman took the controls and began the Skindancer maneuver.

The Raven banked hard, fighting inertia and its own gravity. The sounds of creaking bulk heads and buckling deck plates could be heard through out the ship. Giving a full volley of blasted fire to the Vicino's port bow section, it began bushing its self closer and closer to the larger ships, dreadnoughts and star destroyers. Undaunted, the Vicino gave chase staying hot on the heels of the smaller corvette.

“Which ship do you want sir?” MR. Cidman asked.

Looking out the view port Captain Zamtrev saw his target the Imperial Star Destroyer Cavalier, pointing to it he said, “You see that enemy star destroyer the Cavalier?”

Mr. Cidman nodded and replied “Yes sir.”

“That's bantha, go for it.” with a slap on Mr. Cidman's back, he let his helmsman go to work. The object of the Skindancer maneuver was to distract and confuse the enemy ship to its intention rather than actually out maneuver it. The Raven raced through other pitch ship to ship battles with the Vicino close behind. The Raven skimmed the hull of one of the Vast Empires dreadnoughts before entering in to a nearly ninety degree dive off its stern. The Vicino pulled around the bridge section of the dreadnought and dove to keep up. As it rounded the dreadnought it was met with another volley of blaster fire from the Corvette Raven. Not enough to do any real damage but enough to keep the captain of the Vicino pissed enough to keep chasing her.

The Raven continued to dance along the hulls of dreadnought's and star destroyers alike, hence the name Skindancer maneuver. Mr. Cidman was biting his lip so hard in concentration that it began to bleed, the information that he needed to perform the maneuver was streaming to him at an intense pace, the fingers of his left hand were entering numerical calculations in almost a blur of clicks, his right hand and both feet manipulated the ships flight controls masterfully. The ships aft end drifted as it barreled down the length of the the Vader's Grip. As the Vader's Grip began closing a gap with another star destroyer, Captain Zamtrev pointed at the closing gap, “The gap is closing! The gap is closing!”

Mr. Cidman with out thinking said, “Shut up!” and he pushed more power to the engines, rolling the entire Corellian Corvette, “Cut shields!” Both Mr. Cidman and Captain Zamtrev ordered at once and in unison.

The Raven's shield dropped at the last moment before the ship was crushed giving it barely enough room for it to squeak through the two Imperial Star Destroyers, making the entire crews poodoo holes shrink to the size of a molecule. Still hot on the Raven's heels, the Vicino didn't know what it was in for, a dreadnought was descending over the Imperial Star Destroyer Cavalier.

“Perfect” Mr Cidman thought. He increased the speed of the Raven even faster through the narrowing gap of the two behemoth ships. By this time, the captain of the Vicino was blind to every thing but his anger and frustration. The Cavalier opened fire on the Raven as the Vicino closed in on them from behind while the dreadnought continued to descend, forcing both ships closer and closer to the Imperial Star Destroyer Cavalier.

“Divert all power from weapons to shields.” Was the next order from Captain Zamrev as the Raven began taking more and more flack from the enemy ships. 

The Cavalier began firing on both the Raven and the Vicino in sheer survival instinct. Pitching and rolling the Raven threaded the needle, passing below the Cavaliers main bridge section and its main body. The Vicino cut all engines and engaged full reverse thrust, pitching up and yawing port but it was too late, the captain of Vicino's anger was his down fall. The Vicino collided with the Cavalier bridge section at near full speed erupting in a fire ball, scorching the Vast empires dreadnought but more importantly, it effectively crippled the Imperial Star Destroyer Cavalier. The impact of the Vicino and its resulting explosion destroyed nearly a third of the Cavaliers bridge wiping out the command staff, destroying its shields, gravity generators, as well as a spectacular site for any to see. Again the entire ship cheered in victory.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Captain Zamtrev looked at Mr. Cidman with a raised eyebrow and mock anger.

“Shut up?” He asked trying to repress his shrewed grin.

Mr. Cidman coughed and stammered and finally said confidently, “Heat of the moment Sir.”

Captain Zamtrev smiled at the ensign and said, “Good job son.”

“Thank you sir.” Taking a bit of a break they paused, the crew caught its breath. Over the last two hours, the ship had been put into as many stressful situations and it would soon be going into the next one, but right now every member of that ship knew they did well.

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1331 words

Stepping back onto the bridge of the Callisto after his rest, Ensign Tilbu looks around and is glad to see the shift commander, CPO Drander Blont talking with a crewman from the engineering section about the repairs being made to the hull. Coming in on the tail end of the conversation Tilbu starts to request reports.
“Mr. Blont, what is the status of the repairs to the hull breaches?”

“They are coming along well sir, we should have the hull completely resealed in all sections in about 30 minutes, at that point we can begin to pump air back into those sections of the ship.”

“Very good,” turning the the young crewman manning the sensor station, he requests an update from her, “Crewman, what is the status of the sensors, and have you begun scanning the surrounding area to try and figure out where we are?”

“Short Range sensors have been restored and are operating at about 80% of usual efficiency, the long range sensors have not yet been restored, but are projected to be ready to be tested in about an hour. As far as our location sir...” the crewman paused and considered how best to put this, “I think the nicest way to put this right now is that all we know right now is that we are to the right of that huge cloud of space dust, and to the left of that medium one,”

Tilbu smiles at the crewman's attempt at levity and their roundabout way of pointing out that what he is asking is outside of their capabilities at the moment. “Fair enough,” is his response. Turning now to the Senior Crewman who is manning the bridges gunnery command station, he requests a status report. “What is the status of the double turbolaser cannons?”

“At this point in time we have 2 cannons fully operational, guns 1, and 5. gun 2 is to damaged at this time to bring back online without fully replacing its outer armor and installing a new command pod aboard. Guns 3, 4, and 6 are projected to be semi-operational in 1, 5, and 8 hours respectively, tests at that time will reveal which guns are going to be fully operational.”

After thanking the Senior Crewman, Tilbu leaves the bridge under the CPO's command while he goes to see how repairs are proceeding himself, as he enters the engine room he sees his chief engineering officer, ENS Tormal Toban, entering his office. Glad to see that his fellow officer is not directly involved in repairs at that moment he walks over to the engineer's office to speak with him regarding the current situation now that he has been forced to take command of the ship.

“Mr. Toban”

“Sir, how are repairs coming along? Coming down with another project for me to take on?”

“No, I'm actually here to talk with you about the chain of command for the Callisto.”

“Ah, I was wondering when that was going to come up... I really can't”

“I know you can't afford to take up the role of first officer right now, and I can't afford to take you away from the repairs right now. I was thinking of giving CPO Blont a promotion to Acting Chief Warrant Officer, and have him assume the role of my second in command.”

“That is a good idea sir, he knows his stuff, and he has been hoping for a long time to have the opportunity to get promoted to WO2, so while I think he would prefer to get it under other circumstances, he will not let you down.”

“Thanks for your support, keep me updated on repairs.”

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612 words, I apologize for the short post, but I have a class in 17 minutes, and so not long to write. I will post again tonight probably