==3 Days Prior==
Rorran Gorma looks around the mess deck of the Correllian Carrier Illitarate as he takes his food to a nearby table. The Illitarate was a second-line carrier in the Correllian Defense Force. Being retired career military man, Rorran felt perfectly at home aboard the warship, much more so than the assorted part-timers who made up the majority of this ship's militia contingent. Although the specifics of his prior service were not known to most of those with whom Rorran served, they did know the level of experience which he had, and it afforded him a great deal of respect from his fellow pilots.

“So Ror, do you think that anything interesting is going to happen this patrol?” asks Iltar, one of the part-timers on his first tour of duty as a member of the militia, “It seems kind of odd for the Defense Force to place a task force this far out in the system, especially with two Golans. There is absolutely nothing out here of any worth.”

With a sigh Rorran resigns himself to explaining some of the intricacies of military strategy to a man who 80% of the year was a stock clerk at a store on one of the planets in the system, “Well you see Iltar, although there is nothing on the planet which appears to be of value, the biggest commodity which that planet has to offer is space.” he grabs a couple of artificial sweetener packets from their holder on the table, and lays them out in a rough approximation of the Correllian system, but leaving off the one that would represent Soronia for the time being. “If a force wishes to invade a system, they normally would have to bring everything they would need for the attack of the planets with them, and any ships which needed repairs, or resupply convoys, would have to come from their base of operations into the system, and then be delivered into the combat zone under fire. Which would lead to a higher rate of losses in men and materiel for the invading force.” He inserts the packet representing Soronia, and continues. “One of the Problems our system has for us defensively, is that we have the barren planet Soronia close to the edge of the system, since there are no residents, it provides the perfect location for an invading force to set up, and use this as a base of operations within the system, allowing them to shorten their supply lines during their campaign of the system. So although the planet has very little to offer us, it has a lot to offer those who would wish to invade our system. ”

Iltar's eyes had glazed over at some point, and it was pretty obvious that he had stopped listening at some point, so Rorran put a little extra emphasis on his next words to bring the young man back, “So that Iltar, is why we are out here, with two Golan platforms, patrolling around a barren rock.”

“If you say so, Ror, still seems like a waste of time to me,” and with that Iltar got up, and left, probably heading back to his quarters to write more love letters to his girl back home, Rorran mused.

Soon after Iltar left his place at the table was taken by Ralt, Quinn, and Pronat, Wrench 10, 11, and 12 respectively, Rorran himself was Wrench 9, the flight leader, a post he had earned by virtue of his flying capability, not as much of a feat as it may sound in a squadron where the first run through the simulators more than half the squadron had crashed their fighters before they had managed to join up in formation. Ralt, Quinn, and Pronat had been the worst of the pilots, which was why they had been given to him when they joined up three months ago, it had taken almost two months, but they were all passable pilots now, and each had earned roughly half a dozen kills in the simulators.

“So how do things look Lead? I know they posted us out here for a reason, you think that someone will actually try to invade the system?”

Rorran looks around carefully to make sure that no one is listening in before he responds to the question of the three imperial loyalists that had ended up as his wingmen. “When I was serving with the Vast Empire Navy, I know we did have a plan in the works that involved the invasion of this system, I do not know if the time table has been changed on it at all, but I know the goal was to launch it within a window of time that includes this tour, so it is very possible that we could end up engaging the Vast Empire, and be given an opportunity possibly to join them.”


==Near Past==

The klaxons sounding within the Illitarate woke Rorran up, and he bolted upright and grabbed his flight suit, heading toward the flight deck with the rest of his squadron as he pulls on his flight suit.

“What's going on?” he yells to the squadron commander as they run toward their A-9s,

“A large fleet of ships has come into range, it appears to be a force of Vast Empire Navy ships, several Star Destroyers and assorted other vessels, we have been told to return to the line with all possible speed, hell of a time for the ship to be out on a patrol. We should be within range in a couple minutes, the rest of the task force is already engaged, although they are taking some heavy losses against the VE fighters, which appear to be equipped with shields.

“Good thing we have the heavy cannons then huh?” comments Iltar

==Present==

“All wings report in,” orders Wrench 1,

“Wrench 11 standing by”

“Wrench 3 standing by”

“Wrench 12 standing by”

Rorran waits as the rest of the squadron reports in, and finally brings up the rear,

“Wrench 9 standing by”

“All right guys, keep formation, lets go get these bastards.”

==Jexxel 5==
Maroy noticed the new squadron of fighters heading their way, and quickly gives everyone else the heads up, “Looks like we have another squadron of A-9s heading this way guys, lets hope that Shrike's Cresh flight gets here soon, otherwise this could get messy.”

Rolling her fighter to face the oncoming fighters, Maroy is about to open fire on them when all of a sudden the trailing flight of the squadron opens fire, and four of the enemy fighters disappear in explosions, while the remaining four scatter, trying to put some distance between themselves and the traitors in their midst.

==Wrench 9==

Yanking back on his control stick to follow the A-9 of Wrench 1 Rorran switches over to the VE comm frequencies,

“You know guys, I know you missed me, but you didn't have to come invade a whole system just to rescue me. Nazgul 9 out”

OOC:

AAR: Slasher has returned, he is leading an element of 4 A-9s which have changed sides, they are currently assisting Besh flight of Jexxel, and are using the designators Nazgul 9, 10, 11, and 12 for the moment. 4 A-9s are destroyed in their initial attack, and Slasher and his wingman are currently pursuing the Squadron Commander of Wrench squadron. 1189 Words

The month long approach on the Corellian System was finally coming to an end. After the Vast Empire fleets were unceremoniously pulled out of hyperspace and the brass decided to keep going all the same, nothing but seemingly endless boredom followed. Each day was filled with nothing but routine, a monotonous routine that Seth Qorbin, the Unchained's captain, quickly grew very tired of. Less than a full week after the fleets began their painfully slow crawl towards their far, far away goal, the man decreed that the traditional military standard involving a ship's captain overseeing the First Watch would no longer apply aboard the Carrack Light Cruiser.

It would fall on the ship's Executive Officer to take over those responsibilities, whilst also making the ship's Second Officer switch from the Graveyard Shift over to the Secondary one and redesigning the usually decorative Third Officer position into one actually implying responsibilities and genuine respect and admiration from the crew. At least in theory at the very least.

For the crewmen that lacked a proper military background this decision did not really spark a lot of interest one way or the other but the same could not be said about the crewmen transferred from other Vast Imperial ships or installations. As far as the latter were concerned it was unheard of a ship's captain delegating his own responsibilities to someone else, especially since medical reasons weren't involved, and also considering this wasn't even meant as a purely temporary measure either, but rather a permanent one.

Whilst this measure ignited some bit of controversy aboard the Unchained, it didn't take long for matters to settle down though. Part of it was thanks to Kaylee Talix, the ship's XO, who was able to quickly adjust to her new role, and part of it was thanks to the very nature that actually started the endless streams of gossip amongst some of the crewers. Because military people were trained from early on that a clear chain of command was required in order to ensure the proper functioning of the organization they served in, it didn't take long for the Unchained's military men and women to realize that even though that chain of command had changed aboard their new ship, it did not however become any less clearer as well.



Twenty minutes earlier
Unchained's bridge

"Lots of fighters out there..." a male voice muttered from close behind, causing the XO to turn and face her own reflection mirrored from a pair of amber irises. She wasn't surprised to see Qorbin standing there, but she was perhaps a bit annoyed that the man had the crew drop yet another military tradition - that of announcing the captain's presence whenever the latter entered some section of the ship or another. Reason Seth did that though was because all the "captain on the bridge" or "captain on deck" sort of tired him out, especially since he wasn't one to be impressed by protocol in the first place...

"We still hold the advantage though", the Executive Officer replied matter-of-factly. "If we're to go by the numbers then I'd say you're right, but then again remember where we are... Amongst the few things Corellians are known for in the whole galaxy, aside from Whyren's Reserve, loads of smugglers and ace pilots is also their uncanny ability to play against the odds - and often times win", came Seth's own reply.

"You don't believe we'll win then?" Kaylee Talix inquired casually, not bothering to lower her voice so that the nearby crew - assuming any was listening in - wouldn't hear the uncomfortable question. Seth smiled and shook his head sideways straight away though. "Nah, we'll likely win this one after all. As you said, we do hold the advantage after all... It's just that it might not go as smoothly as others might hope. We're fighting on their home turf, they already have powerful defenses in place and although their ships don't appear all that powerful on their own, they'll still pose a problem when we'll go for the stations. Plus, there seem to be lots of fighters out there, as I pointed out earlier. I can almost guarantee they'll pose a huge problem to any bombers and transports we might try to throw their way. Then there's also the matter of morale. Some ship captains may have drilled their crews too much or too hard during this past month. Whilst this ensures discipline on one hand it also implies a certain degree of fatigue as well..."

"Is that why you chose to forgo those drills?" the XO interrupted suspiciously. "It's... part of the reason. I trust the men I enlisted to do their jobs well enough. I also trust you've made the best choices on your end as well. Whilst I may have some mild concerns regarding the actual experience of some crewmen, I do not doubt their qualifications in the slightest however. By not stressing everyone else with tiresome drills I at least ensured that they will now be rested and relaxed as opposed to possibly tired and/or overzealous, eager for action and the chance to prove themselves..."

"How should we approach this situation then?" the blonde female First Officer inquired simply. "Hmm..." Qorbin paused and once more stared first at the tactical screen and next outside through the ship's viewport. "We'll hold back and watch. We'll engage anything that comes too close, though I highly doubt the Corellians will make that mistake however..."




Thirty minutes after the battle started
Unchained's bridge

"Fools..." Seth grumbled seemingly to himself as he kept on looking at the tactical screen before him. "I can't believe they actually fell for this..."

"What's wrong?" the second in command asked coldly. "If this keeps up the Corellians will turn the tide as far fighter superiority is concerned... They started out spread out and our forces met them head on. A simple tactic, one hoping to take advantage of our more advanced fighters and teamwork. Problem is that they've been slowly but steadily tightening ranks for the past ten minutes or so. In some cases we may have indeed pushed them hard enough to manage this but in some areas", the man stopped and pointed at a couple of spots on the big screen, "here and here for example, their withdrawal was clearly a feint. If I was leading the enemy force then I'd wait just a little bit longer before pulling my anti-fighter escorts from the sides and flanking us. That would cripple our flanks and spark panic in our ranks. We'd be unable to push forward and we'd be screwed if we were to turn back and regroup as well. And if I was an even bolder commander then I'd suddenly order my fighters to make a hole right in the middle of their formation, a hole I'd quickly fill with the concentrated fire of all nearby ships. Thirty seconds would be enough time to decimate that area and if the enemy would even be prepared for that then they'd easily be able to exploit that moment to split our forces, forcing us to fight on two smaller fronts, being flanked on either one."

"You really believe the enemy has something like that prepared?" Kaylee Talix inquired as coldly and impassively as before. "They've already demonstrated they're not stupid. And their skill in the cockpit is already legendary across the whole galaxy too. Like I said, if I was given a whole month to prepare for an invasion against a force I'd have a fairly good estimate of what it would consist of, and I'd know more or less where it would attack from as well, then I can guarantee you that I'd be able to come up with at least half a dozen such scenarios, all meant to quickly turn the tide against an otherwise losing battle."

"Shouldn't you warn Captain Gr... Captain Serpent then?" the Unchained's XO pointed out. "It's just a hunch though... a really strong one, but still nothing more than that. I don't have any proof." The Onderonian captain paused and watched the tac screen for about one more minute in silence. "Miss Noron, open a line to the Paragon please", Seth eventually decided. "Miss Hayek, bring us in closer as well. Advance slower at first and only go full throttle after they've noticed us. Most importantly, try to keep all the fighters in between us and their ships and stations. One disadvantage to tightening their lines like that is that they won't easily be able to shoot through their own forces in order to get to us..."

"A'right boss!" the ship's pilot happily replied.

"Do you intend to take us in close enough to engage their fighters?" Commander Talix asked in her characteristically monotonous tone of voice. "I'm just covering my bases in case Jigsaw's too busy to listen", the ship's captain answered calmly. "We're not a front line vessel though. We won't survive too many hits from that sort of firepower..."

"Which is why I'm hoping we won't receive a lot of hits in the process... Miss Noron, relay the following message ship wide: Battle stations!"

OOC:

WC: 1530
AAR: Intro shows Seth Qorbin not being a typical ship captain. Once the battle starts he also notices a few possible vulnerabilities in our SFC tactics/formations. Not waiting to first explain these issues to Serpent, the man decides to take his ship closer to the action, using the allied and enemy fighter screens as cover from the bigger guns of the enemy cap ships (and station(s)) in the back.

Captain Jerek Sal-Antil was a Corellian through and through, from the inexplicable skill at gambling to the cocky bravado that made Corellians into the hot-shots of the galaxy. What he lacked, however, was the tactical ability to outperform not one but three  Imperial Star Destroyers and their escorts. His fighter pilots were some of the best in the galaxy, but given that they were matched evenly with the Vast Empire's own fighters there was no way even they could turn the tide of the battle. Aboard his flagship, the once-Imperial Dreadnaught Skifter, he could see the entirety of the battle unfolding before him. While the Vast Empire's fighters were doing better than he'd expected, their capital ships had yet to do any real damage - sure enough they far outgunned his own modest fleet, but they hadn't been used to full effect.

"Those transports will probably be aimed for the Golans," he mused aloud, "is there any way the second will be online before the battle's over?"

"No sir. We might be able to get the weapons systems active, though, but the shields will take more time to raise," Commander Addroc Sully, his XO, replied coolly, "as it stands, the enemy forces have no reason to target it. They likely want to repurpose it if they're victorious here and take Soronia. If it starts firing, however.."

"I'd rather see it destroyed than in Imperial hands, thank you Commander," He muttered, "have them activate the offensive systems as soon as possible."

"Yes sir," Sully responded obediently, moving toward a communications console.

"Sensors show the Carrack moving toward their main cloud of fighters, sir," the sensor officer called over to him. He furrowed his brows; as yet he'd been untouched by the fighting, being in the center of the formation.

"Tell Wing Commander Orik to make a hole," he ordered, mind moving fast, "this may present us with an opportunity."

"Or expose the center of our lines," Sully observed, disapproval evident in his voice.

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained," he shot back, "besides, we're gamblers by nature. We're born to play the odds."

"Yes yes, Sabacc and all that," he replied, "but I'd rather not be responsible for the collapse of Soronia's defenses because we decided the odds were to be trifled with."

"And that's why I'm the Captain and you're my XO. You give me cautious, prudent suggestions and I ignore them," Sal-Antil replied cheerfully, "live a little, Commander."

"You take us into a possibly suicidal situation and tell me to live a little?" He asked dryly.

"Sometimes the proximity of death makes life all the more worth living," Sal-Antil answered, "now tell Orik to get us that hole. The Vast Empire seems to be ardently pursuing their assault, perhaps the sight of an Imperial Dreadnaught in their midst will cull that ardour."

"Or make us look like fools," Sully pointed out, ever the prudent one.

"They already think of us as fools, why not give them more reason to?"

"If they thought of us as fools, wouldn't they have pushed a wedge of Star Destroyers through our formation without batting an eye?" Sully insisted, "I think they don't believe we're fools, which is the only reason their capital ships haven't torn us apart."

"I love having the authority to ignore you, Sully. You can be so dull sometimes," the Captain said brightly, "helms, give us a course toward Orik's vanguard. We're going to punch through their fighter line with his help and engage that Carrack. Have the Ace of Sabres take our place in the formation and instruct the Pride of Soronia to form up on us." The Ace was probably the second most powerful ship in their modest fleet, being an Endurance-Class Fleet Carrier, while the Pride was a DP20 and would act as a fighter screen as well as additional firepower in case one of the Star Destroyers came in range. There was no way they could go up against one of those and win, not alone. They'd need more than half their fleet to go up against even one of them without fighters. Between the two of them, the Carrack that seemed to be moving to support the fighters should have been easy pickings... Little known about the Skift was the fact that it had been upgraded by Corellian engineering to have almost double the firepower, as many Dreadnaughts were these days - outdated ships couldn't last without upgrades.

What Sully didn't realise was that the Captain was quite aware of how much of a gamble this was - against the small Carrack, two ships of the line were more than enough, but against an ISD-II? It was suicide. The Dreadnaught may have had more than thirty turbolasers with the upgrades, but the ISD-II had over 100! Jerek wished that he had four more Dreadnaughts with him, but he'd have to make do. "Wing Commander Orik reports that his heavy fighters are assaulting the VE's line now."

"Good," the Captain replied, "contact him again when we get in range and tell him to get the hell out of there."

"And if he doesn't have time?"

"Woe is he," Sal-Antil replied absently, a dark expression coming upon his features - it was a cruel, evil looking arrangement of his face, "it's going to be a killing ground in there."

--- --- ---

As flashes of light lit up the darkness of space around his cockpit, Hades artfully weaved his Interceptor MK-II through the chaos which, while steadily decreasing, still filled the void with criss-crossing laser bolts in an exchange of laser fire that represented the death of hundreds in a short period of time. Maybe even thousands when the fleet began its final assault... "Sir, the fighters are decreasing," Vangelos informed him. Checking his sensors, he saw the man was right, "do you think we drove them off?"

"They know that those transports could be the deciding factor in this battle," he said, mostly to himself, "no, I think not. They're probably routing reinforcements elsewhere, wherever our fighters are thinner maybe." As he scanned his readouts for where they might be heading, he saw one of the VE ships moving forward, supposedly in support of their fighters. It would definitely help... "There," He murmured, but why would anyone concentrate their fighters on something that has a very effective anti-starfighter armament? It was then that he saw movement in the enemy fleet. Their largest ship - looking something like a small Star Destroyer - had taken the center of the formation, while a similarly large ship had moved with a smaller ship in tow.

And they were headed straight for the Unchained. "Those fighters are going to punch a hole in our fighter screen," he whispered in realisation. The fighter screen, as it were, was the only thing that would stand between those larger capital ships and the Carrack. But if reinforcements moved to there instead of stopping the transports, they'd be able to free up more of their fighters and clear the space between the Unchained and the advancing enemy ships.

"What are we going to do?" Vangelos asked, and Hades realised he'd left his comm on.

"What can we do?" He replied grimly, "we can't go up against an Imperial Dreadnaught and a DP20 on our own."

"What are the Corellians thinking?" Graff muttered, "as soon as they get close, command will move a Star Destroyer forward and pound them into dust."

Hades wondered that too. Were they complete fools? It took him a while to figure it out, but once he did he shook his head in bewilderment. "I think someone's doing what Corellians do best?"

"Make whiskey?" Vangelos replied sarcastically.

"No," Hades remarked, "gamble"

OOC:

Wordcount: 1,288

AAR: Captain Jerek Sal-Antil, commander of the Corellian forces and the flagship, Skift - an Imperial Dreadnaught - decides to take a gamble and sets his sights on Deep's beloved Carrack The Skift and its DP20 escort Pride Of Soronia aim to smash through the fighter screen and destroy the Unchained before A) it can do any significant damage in the fighter battle and B) Imperial Star Destroyers can move to save it.

Hades knows there's nothing he personally can do - a single flight of a single squadron isn't going to stand up to an Imperial Dreadnaught and a fighter-killing DP20 - and having some professional courtesy that is most unlike him, he places faith in the fact that the commanders of the VE fleet will have seen it just as easily as him and will stop the move before it does any damage.

The Interceptor jerked into a tight roll as Einarr pulled the stick over, his leg pressing down on the rudder pedal as he evaded the incoming blasts from the Corellian A-9's. “Cassius, pattern Besh”

'Yes sir, initiating EW sequence Besh' the secondary communications nodes sprang to life seeking the local enemy encryption and communication channels as the fighters wove their deadly dance Einarr's helmet protocols ran through the various options as he kicked his nimble Interceptor over in a tight turn  lining his guns up on the rearmost of the enemy fighters as the rest of the flight picked their own targets. Crimson bolts streaked through vacuum the target vanishing from his cross hair as it rolled on its port wing directly into the fire of one of the transports turrets.

“Damn kill thief, Cassius, ETA on the probe droids? Activate them as soon as they hit, I want copies emplaced before they get those guns online.”

'As you say master, time to target in 5 minutes. Target operational in 15.' As his AI delivered this report the secondary Communications nodes found the local squadron communications channel, the encryption sliding into place as the digital sentience established its own sub-link in the network. 'Link with local network established, activating Operation plan Besh.' A screech burst transmission sent the infiltrator copies into the enemy squadron net, the programs going to work on fire control, targeting, and internal life support systems on the fighters in the area. Processing power supplied remotely  by both Einarr's on-board hardware and a hard-link to his droids on-board the paragon allowed them to hit the underpowered defenses at full strength.

(Inside the Corellian Task Groups network)

The Avatars appeared in a flash, a pod of glowing digital devilsquids moving swiftly through the data stream, their appendages lashing out in blinding patterns. Files were moved across the system in haphazard lumps as targeting information was relocated to astrogation programs, Life support to targeting, Navigation to Engineering monitors. A pair split off to engage the activated security monitors, their barbed tentacles wrapping around and giving structure to the security programs shaping them as their barbs sank deep reprogramming even as they locked down their functions.  In moments it was over, the fighters facing Jexxel squadron thrown into disarray as their own systems turned on them. Radar displaying illusionary targets under multiple groups flags, their weapons malfunctioning or overloading in a shower of overcharged energy, and their life support backfiring lowering the temperature and decimating the air supply. Controls balked making them easy targets for the flights guns. Meanwhile Einarr fought the now balky controls of his own Interceptor, struggling to maintain position in the formation as processing power diverted  to subverting the enemy systems was taken from the systems controlling his flight surfaces, Shields, weapons, and engines.

“Hurry it up Cass, I am a sitting Hutt if I don't get some processor capacity back shortly.”

'Besh Stage 1 complete Master, proceeding to stage 2 now. As soon as we have the local Escorts subverted we will be free to open up the processor capacity once more.' Einarr slipped out of formation as his starboard Ion Engine overheated, his shields flickering as he struggled to put his ship in cover behind a floating hulk the result of a mid-space collision between a pair of enemy fighters…

“Besh 2 to Jexxel flight, I am out of the fight for the moment. I will do what I can to keep them off your backs from here.” He ended the transmission with a flick of his right eye as the watched the timer hit zero.

The trio of probe droids made contact with the second Golan Platform, their drills going to work as they penetrated the outer hull armor to get at the underlying conduits, molten hull armor splintered and blasted into the cold of space in flash frozen specks, glinting in the barely caught light of the system primary. The droids extended their utility appendages into the gaps slicing into and connecting into the hardwired connections as they provided power to the subsystems not yet brought up from a cold start yet, their Avatar passengers releasing into the systems as the first signs of awakening systems pinged their responses on readiness checks. The barely awakened systems fell quickly to the alert and ready AI Avatars, Tentacle made of coded programs sank deep into the systems processes subverting the controls and corrupting the processes as first the IFF identifier, then the manual interlock controls fell into the AI controls, their codes being broadcast via tight beam to the flag bridge of the Paragon for the VE Electronic Warfare division to confirm and take control of remotely providing both an access point for them to enter the systems as well as the option of remotely activating the local fire control of the systems to allow them to be aimed in close support on the enemy fleet. The Subverted VI security programs took up the protection duty for the systems as the AI Avatars pushed forward seeking the main generators program path deeper in the systems, converting and subverting the slowly awakening processes in their path. It wasn't the whole system but it is at least a beachhead behind the Corellian leagues lines.

(Corellian Frigate command Network)

Bridging the gaps between eh Squadron network and the SCAP control network the AI's made the leap under a tight beam broadcast to the smaller consorts of the CorSec fleet, their digital bodies infiltrating the main communication nodes disguised as a data packet from the forward fighter screens. The system had minimal time to respond to the intrusion as the Devilsquid AI copies latched into the main processes and began the process of subverting this first step in the network.



(VE Interceptor Jexxel Squadron Besh 2)

Einarr watched the load on his processors slowly lesson as the dual prongs of his digital attack sank home in the enemy fleet systems, the shields stabilized as the engines vented the waste heat in a stream of slowly dissipating reaction mass expelled from the cooling vanes on the outer edge of the solar array. As he watched his systems slowly stabilize he examined the local tactical map in his overlay. The local resistance had been cast into disarray by his initial attack leaving the hard pressed fighter coverage of the boarding party much improved due to the lessening of both control as well as actual fighters left inside the enemy formations. Einarr smiled coldly as he pressed the throttle stud forward accelerating back in pursuit of his squadron and their detail.

OOC:

Word Count: 1103

AAR: Einarr initiates an electronic warfare measure, slicing into the enemy communications he inserts copies of his AI's to subvert and throw the enemy fighter screen into disarray. Meanwhile the probe droids reach the second Golan platform and begin the subversion process, the details being broadcast to the bridge of the Paragon.

For Damon Woods, the duel between the Vast Empire’s Imperial II-class Star Destroyer Adjudicator and the Corellian Defense Force’s active Golan II-class Space Defense SpaceGun seemed to last a lifetime.  Salvo after salvo of turbolaser blasts slammed into the Adjudicator’s shields, which flashed angrily as they absorbed the withering punishment.  Volley after volley of proton torpedoes snaked out from the station, exploding in impossibly bright novas where the Adjudicator’s point defense lasers missed their marks.  And throughout it all, squadron after squadron of Corellian snubfighters threw themselves against the Adjudicator in suicidal waves, desperately pressing home their attack runs on the beleaguered Vast Imperial ship.

The others on the Star Destroyer’s bridge went about their business, the tight skin along their necks and jaws the only hint of their underlying worries as they coordinated the Third Vast Imperial Fleet’s response to the Corellian barrage with deliberate, professional detachment.  But Damon Woods was a civilian.  An outsider.  He had no business to go about.  And no professional detachment to summon up.

For the Dark Jedi Knight, the assault stretched out into an eternity of pure fear, as the bombardment went on and on - and on - incessantly.  With every successive explosion, his terror seemed to mutate into a larger, scarier monster in his mind, from which he wanted nothing more than to run and hide.  But there was nowhere to go, and he found that he was so overstimulated by light and terrible, terrible noise that his overburdened nervous system could not even flinch properly.  Dimly, he was aware that he’d lost control of his limbs, and the acknowledgment of the reality - that he was frozen with fright - only made his panic deepen.

And then, suddenly, with very little warning, everything was fine.  The bridge was still.  Quiet.  There were no more flashes of multicolored light.

Damon realized he’d been holding his breath, and he gasped out a pitiful sigh.  His intake was sharp and ragged.  “We won the duel,” he said, his tone half celebration, half question.

“Naturally,” came the matter-of-fact voice of Admiral Wyl Trykon.  Damon turned, only to face the Kuati’s grey-green eyes boring into him.  The older man’s expression was cold.  Cruel, almost.  “But it was never a duel,” Trykon corrected acidly.  “We had twenty capital ships; they had a single defense station backed up by a handful of small support craft and two dozen starfighters.  There was no way to predict that the Corellians would throw everything they had at our lead ship, but if you had opened yourself to the Force, you would have understood: we were never in any danger of being destroyed.”

Trykon went on, and something in his voice scared Damon then, more than any enemy torpedo or turbolaser could.

“This was a test,” Trykon said, his ashen, skeletal face twisting into a frown.  “And you have failed.”

Ice water flowed through Damon’s veins, and his mouth went dry.  “I… you…” he sputtered, his mind reeling.  “This was a test,” he repeated dumbly, before finally gathering his thoughts.  “You meant for them to target the Adjudicator,” he said with sudden clarity.  “You risked the whole ship, just to watch my reaction?”

“I was doing more than watching,” the Admiral said, and suddenly Damon felt lighter, as if a great weight had been lifted from his spine.  His fear receded mightily as well.

“You were in my thoughts,” Damon whispered as realization hit.  “My emotions.”

“And you failed to notice,” Trykon said with unveiled contempt.

Before Damon could think of a response, another warning flared in the Force.  Trykon’s expression instantly changed: Damon swore he could see the same stab of fear ripple across the Kuati Admiral’s features as he himself felt clenching his own guts.

“That... is thoroughly inconvenient,” Trykon muttered, before spinning away from Damon and raising his voice to an undignified shout.  “The second Golan!” he bellowed, so the entire bridge crew could hear him.  “All vessels, target the other Golan station and fire at will!  Helm: all ahead flank, and turn us away!  Run!  Run!  Run!”

OOC:

704 words.

AAR: Despite the desperate Corellian counter-barrage, the Adjudicator handily defeats the active Golan defense station, although the ship's shields take more punishment than expected.  The maneuver was revealed to be part of Damon Woods' training, though, as Admiral Trykon was testing his apprentice under pressure, manipulating the younger Knight's fears in the combat situation.  But just as Trykon's test is revealed, a warning alarm sounds through the Force: both Jedi feel the sudden surge of danger, radiating from the second, supposedly inactive Golan Defense Station.  Trykon's calm and in-control demeanor vanishes, and he orders the Adjudicator to turn away from the second Golan and run, firing as it retreats... what's the surprise that has the Admiral so spooked?

The stick resisted Einarr as he pulled it in, bringing the Interceptor into a tight arc as he brought the reticule into line with his target. A gentle squeeze of the trigger brought death to the swift, disoriented A-9 as it shattered in a silent cloud of expanding vapor and debris. Other targets in the scattered dog fight gave up their lives to the alert guns of Jexxel flight and its allies as crimson bolts streaked free from gun barrels to collide with the disoriented, frantic craft that had shortly before been viscous threats to their charges.

“Escort flight to Transports, you got those boots on the turf yet?”

“Transports to Escort, target achieved hitting the beach in 5”

“Confirmed transports, Jexxel squadron will keep the leftovers off you.” The flight leads voice rang through Einarr's helmet as he sought his next target, a series of star bursts in his peripheral heralding the demise of the previous victims flight mates as his own took down targets. Einarr guided his fighter back into position and followed his comrades back into the fight his cyberware augmented senses aware of the scanners displaying VE boarding craft sliding into docking bays or mating with Airlocks as they delivered their deadly cargo of heavily armored Marines.

“Kill a few mammals for me boys, kill a few for me.”


(Second Golan’s Core Systems)

Casius clone #416 probed deeper into the stations systems changing IFF interlocks in the targeting systems as it went. The pruned AI's focused awareness was aware of the havoc outside as the guns shifted from the flagships of the VE fleet to the ships of the Correllian defense fleet. 416 worked deeper subverting the power systems and internal security software as it went. A pulse in the system alerted 416 to the loss of 315 and 601 as the ice walls in the system isolated and deleted the infiltrating programs. 416 subverted a series of core processors speeding up its own actions before beginning its assault on the local control core. Defensive programs sprang alert as the AI's Avatar entered the system, their programming isolating and locking down network blocks in an effort to trap and delete the AI. As 416 continued its attack 3 more iterations penetrated the network splitting the defenses attention as they strained the compromised systems processors to the limit. Life support came down in a flash as the stations systems began a cascading failure, airlocks sprang open in a series of software glitches opening sections of the station to vacuum as alerts broadcast through the station in klaxon howls.  Armored troopers, crewmen, and technicians died in the airless vacuum as the assault continued, more of the guns coming online and into the AI's control as the individual iterations merged into a single gestalt intelligence.

“Immediate broadcast to Vast Imperial Fleet Assets, Golan defensive platform neutralized as an enemy asset, awaiting prize crew and directives.” The Cassius Gestalt transmitted the broadcast along the proper combat frequencies before line of sight broadcasting the control codes directly to the ships f the line for EW division turnover.


(TIE-IN engaged in combat)

Cassius lit the alert beacon code signaling operation completion onto Einarr's internal display and the pilot allowed a vicious grin to stretch his features as he moved the stick in tight, precise movements. A second group of enemy craft disappeared in a flash of ignited atmosphere followed by an expanding cloud of debris.

“Section clear, watch for reinforcements the fleet should be here shortly to put some backbone into this battle line.” Einarr nodded as the Jexxel squadron leads voice rang once more over the speakers, his eyes already picking out the series of detonation in the distance as a pair of DP-20's were reduced to wreckage under the stations guns.

“Confirmed lead, should we hang here in over watch or move on to soften up the enemy fleet?” Einarr's voice rang inside his helmet, monotone exhaustion clear in the tone as he waited quietly his senses scanning the columns of codes as status updates broadcast from the Cassius Gestalt began running across his systems.

OOC:

Word count: 692
AAR: The AI attack takes control of the majority of the second Golans systems bringing the enemy guns to bear on their own fleet. Jexxel flight completes the clearing of the disoriented and system deprived fighters threatening the boarding craft and deliver their charges to the primary Golan. Einarr request new orders from Jexxel flight lead.

OOC:  Sorry for the short post, been suffering from a touch of writers block but doing the best I can despite it.