"Admiral, we have Governor Havlock on comms for you." Rotating in his command chair, Admiral Tran Siegfried regarded his lieutenant with a look of distaste.
"Havlock? That pompous, preening traitor who entered into negotiations with the Rebels against my orders?"
"Yes sir, he reports Dacia is…" His lieutenant paused and briefly cast about for another way to deliver the message.
"Yes, Tobin?" Siegfied prompted.
"He reports Dacia and its three dependent worlds are in open revolt. Civil war is the term he uses, to be precise, sir." Braced for the inevitable explosion the entire bridge crew had fallen silent. Bad news had been coming thick and fast for the past ten months. Ever since Endor, ever since the destruction of that damnable battle station and the Emperor with it.
"You can unclench Tobin," the Admiral said, even going so far as to offer his subordinate a conciliatory smile. "Statistical models placed the chances of destabilisation following the collapse of Imperial authority in Dacia at 97%. The Rebels are predictably sloppy when it comes to anything more than killing and talking about freedom. 'Consolidation' and 'security' are notably absent from their vocabulary."
Almost wearily, the admiral got to his feet and looked out on Imperial Battle Group Epsilon. Including his own vessel, The Vengeance Tide, he'd successfully mustered eight Imperial Star Destroyers and a vast array of lesser warships and support craft. At times such as this it was the only thing which kept him sane. In his mid-forties and sporting a slight build he appeared an innocuous enough Imperial officer. His jet-black hair and sharp features lent him the haughty visage of a petty customs official; an inaccurate assessment many of his enemies had come to regret in their final minutes. "What's our commitment to Dacia?" he asked.
"Minimal, sir. We maintained stability through threat, not force. The primary planet has a garrison of 3000 ground troops and accompanying support, plus a relay station located on Dacia Four."
Siegfried returned to his chair and activated the comms. "This is the Admiral. The following vessels, Divide, Monitor and Conqueror are to make ready for suppression and extraction deployment. Coordinates and specified orders to follow. Siegfried, out."
Returning his lieutenant's poorly hidden confusion with another small smile, an act he noted that defused the remaining tension on the bridge, he gestured for him to follow as he exited the command deck and entered his office. A spartan affair with little to recommend it beyond privacy, the Admiral settled himself behind his desk before indicating for Tobin to sit. "You have the same look on your face as my son when his mother steals his nose, Lieutenant," he reproved. "Please tell me the Empire's finest training is not entirely wasted?"
"I thought you despised Havlock, sir," he offered. "Why are we going to save him?" Siegfried considered a report on his computer monitor before responding. Drive malfunctions on the Dauntless again, something was amiss there. Filing it away for later he leaned back into his chair, "The man is a leach, this is true. But those under him are Imperial officers, our brothers and sisters sworn to the same oath as we are. I will not abandon them to traitors, Rebels or the deprivations of a civil war." Tobin nodded his understanding.
"Then why haven't we acknowledged Havlock's distress signal, per Imperial protocol?"
"For the same reason I've dispatched a Star Destroyer, a Victory Class and a light cruiser to bring our people home. Havlock is a turncoat and for all we know luring us into an ambush. However, he knows I loathe him and he also knows I'd never send a significant force to extricate him. The Rebels waiting at Dacia will not be prepared to face such concentrated firepower, should they be doing so. Confirming our arrival serves no strategic purpose beyond alerting our enemies, as the Alliance is almost certainly monitoring his communications, even if his call for aid is genuine."
Tobin tried to repress a smirk. "Governor Havlock isn't being evacuated, is he sir?"
"Careful Lieutenant," Siegfried cautioned. "Such cavalier suggestions and behaviour is what got us into this mess." The edge in the Admiral's voice quietened Tobin's smile. "The Empire represents order, yet because of self-serving individuals like Governor Havlock has been brought to its knees. We will not rebuild on a foundation that forgets the rule of law, that forgets power in the hands of the weak-willed leads only to corruption and failure."
Tobin knew to remain quiet during such outbursts. The Admiral was welcoming of new ideas most of the time, unlike so many others he'd served under. But when lecturing on the Empire's sins he was not to be interrupted for anyone short of Palpatine reborn. Glaring at a space just over Tobin's shoulder Siegfried sighed, "Get back to your duties, Lieutenant," he ordered. Saluting, Tobin made to leave but paused as the door hummed open.
"It's not lost on me sir, or any of us. The Empire has stumbled badly and needs to change, needs to become more than it was. So, for what it's worth Admiral we're all with you." Then he turned and left before his courage failed him. Siegfried sat quietly for a moment before returning to his computer screen, what he said next barely audible to human ears. "It's worth a lot Lieutenant." Now, he thought, Dacia…
.
The planet hung like an over ripe fruit in the quiet of space. No one would have expected from so far out, that its surface crawled with activity. With blaster fire. With explosions and death. Nor that its only moon was now a barren, lifeless rock after an accidental detonation of its atomic ordinance during the brief but bloody struggle for control of its defence grid.
Captain Luciana Veil grimaced as her small battle group persisted in system, the Conqueror cutting an intimidating wedge through the local space traffic. Even in these times of chaos everyone knew to give an Imperial Star Destroyer a wide birth. Personally, she'd never enjoyed the supplication of the masses or the fear that was its cause.
Born to a noble Coruscant dynasty she'd long been inured to the curtseying and the bowing that made up high born life and found the Empire to be little different. Faux politeness covering the stares of her lesser officers, who saw only a beautiful aristocrat playing at soldier. Her blonde hair tied into a tight bun, she eschewed cosmetics or any enhancements, but had been told by more than one potential suitor that it made little difference. One had even composed a hideously messy poem in ode to her "jade sunset eyes." Whatever the bloody hell that meant.
"Ma'am," her first officer saluted, presenting her with a data slate. "The analysis of system communications you asked for. Per your orders we're jamming everything and broadcasting fake signals on all channels to maintain the illusion of normality. The Rebels should notice no drop off in EM output."
"Unless they're already here, Matchu," Luciana noted, handing the pad back. A part of her hoped they were. She'd lost a lot of friends at Endor and across the galaxy since as chaos consumed vast swathes of the Empire. She knew it was unprofessional, but a chance to get to grips with the enemy would be cathartic for both her and the crew. They needed to know they could still win this. Hell, she needed to know. "What are the chances?" he asked.
"I'd say almost certain. The Admiral wouldn't have deployed us otherwise." As if on cue, her sensor officer drew her attention to his station. "Ma'am," he shouted, "we have contacts in grid nine beta." Activating the hologram command table at the rear of the bridge, she quickly took stock of the situation.
Multiple enemy blips were appearing in orbit around Dacia's helium gas giant and as the seconds passed the improving sensor readouts painted a clearer picture. Coolly, her first officer apprised her of the Rebel fleet composition, even though she could see it quite clearly for herself. "Reading two Nebulon-B class frigates, six mid-range transports, five squadrons of escort fighters and…" he paused, savouring the moment, "one Mon-Calamari cruiser."
Glancing at her first officer, Luciana could barely suppress a predatory smile. Mon-Calamari cruisers were powerful warships to be sure, but in reality stood little chance of winning in a knock down brawl with an Imperial Star Destroyer. "They're heading straight for us," Matchu observed, as the red contacts on the holo map accelerated towards them."They're either very brave or very stupid."
Luciana said nothing, her attention riveted not on the warships but the transports which were now pulling away towards Dacia proper. "Troops," she said simply. At Matchu's uncomprehending stare she continued, "ground troops, they have boots on the surface. Probably engaging our garrison as we speak. It's why they're not running; they know what we'll do to their men should we catch them in the open."
"Inbound bombers and interceptors. Standard Rebel strike pattern, X and Y Wings predominating," called her tactical officer.
"Launch all fighters, detail squadrons two through seven to hit the escorts as they come in and reorient the combat air patrol to deal with anything that gets past them."
A chorus of "aye sirs" echoed around the bridge and Luciana punched up the fleet command net. "Monitor, prioritise enemy frigates and fighters, but do not, repeat do not stray from fleet formation. Leave the cruiser to ourselves and Divide. Once she's committed move in and take them out, but not before." Receiving an acknowledgement from Captain Vesseck, she turned her attention to the unfurling battle between her fighter contingent and the Rebel strike force.
They had the numbers, but time and again the qualitative superiority of the Alliance's lighter craft had outdone even the best that the Empire had to offer. In a time of vast numerical superiority that hadn't been a problem, but now, with resources dwindling, every loss hurt a little more.
A few moments later the deflector shields flared to life as the enemy cruiser, IFF transponder designating it as the Lyceum, closed to weapons range. The assault was spectacular, the blooms correlating with the straining of the powers systems, the flickering of lights and explosion of consoles. It was an impressive display that scorched the hull, but in most places failed to breach the colossal vessels main armour.
A few hundred kilometres ahead a clutch of Y-Wings managed to break through the fighter melee and made a straight beeline for the Divide off to port, in a desperate attempt to peel away the Conqueror's escorts. They didn't get far. Their heroic charge terminating in a trio of concussive detonations as the CAP came screeching around from underneath the Victory class destroyer, to immolate them with precision missile fire.
So focussed was she on this small part of the battle, that she almost missed the devastating enfilade that lit up the Lyceum in a barrage of concentrated turbo-laser fire. Mon Calamari cruisers relied on their overpowered shields to stave off hull impacts, employing multiple redundancies to create layer upon layer of defence. However, once down, they were easy prey to hull breaches and the depravities of hard vacuum.
The Lyceum stood proud under the bombardment, absorbing every hit like a champion prize-fighter. Yet, as the stream of energy from Conqueror continued unabated, its own weapon barrels growing red hot as they were pushed to their operational limits, something cracked aboard the Rebel cruiser.
"Enemy shields have breached along prow starboard sections," came the announcement. "Also picking up erratic power readings. I think we nicked an artery." Luciana couldn't help but mirror Matchu's smile as the mighty vessel's engines flared in sympathetic agony, before emitting a final stuttering gasp at life. From beginning to end the engagement had lasted no more than four minutes and already the enemy's capital ship was out of the fight and its two support frigates were under increasing pressure from Divide.
"Should we finish her?" Matchu asked. She could sense the eagerness in his voice and the charged excitement on the bridge. "You're not there for revenge..." The Admiral's final orders returned to her even as the battle group continued to pound on the increasingly enfeebled Lyceum. "Weapons hold."
The silence which followed, both inside and outside of the ship, brought a momentary respite as the percussive sound of the guns ceased to shake the deck. Luciana well knew that her officers would not approve of mercy, but then again blind obedience did have its merits.
Without acknowledging the change she turned to her comms officer, "Order Divide to finish off those frigates before they can escape the gravity well of the gas giant. Signal Monitor to resume formation and proceed in-system and signal the CAP to continue pinching at the heels of those fleeing Rebel fighters. I don't want them getting any ideas."
Having received confirmation of her orders Luciana returned to her holo display, ignoring the myriad damage reports and weapons inventories thrust towards her. Matchu would alert her of anything that needed immediate attention. She had a garrison to save and if fate allowed, more Rebel scum to enlighten. It seemed they were still in this fight after all.