Chapter 2

Flag Officer's Office, UNSN Revenge

Admiral William Johnson took another sip of coffee as he typed up the after-action report. The Director of Naval Operations for the United Nations Spaceborne Navy was pleased with the forces he had commanded and the results of the battle. All of the objectives had been successfully completed; a combat test of the new battleship Revenge and the capture of an Imperial interdictor cruiser. Additionally, several Imperial corvettes and transports had been captured and several other Imperial ships destroyed. While the Star Destroyer in charge of the task force had escaped among other ships, the damage inflicted would have left the ship out of action for months.

The Revenge had performed spectacularly in battle and suffered barely any damage. There were some kinks to sort out as was the case with any new ship; the hangar doors would need to be enlarged, the armor had a few weak spots in the front of the ship, and using all of its weaponry put a strain on the power systems. But overall, it was a capable design. Especially considering it was Earth's first try with building a ship this large.

All of this information would factor into the upcoming offensive against the Empire. What had begun as a pipe dream over a year ago was slowly materialized into a doable yet ambitious plan. A full invasion of the Zoloch Sector and all the planets in its boundaries was the ultimate goal. However, support for it was far from unanimous. Many high-ranking officers and civilians alike believed it would be better for Earth to stay on the defensive or at least wait until they had built up more strength before attacking. There was certainly merit to their arguments; perhaps if they left the Empire alone they would leave Earth alone and that the fleet did not have sufficient strength or experience for an interstellar campaign.

But Johnson was sure the Empire would eventually return. They definitely had other priorities at the moment, but they would be back. Maybe it would take years or even decades, but they would likely bring overwhelming force. And right now, the sector was down to about half its previous strength due to the two failed attacks on Earth and local rebels in the sector. If there was a time to strike, it was now.

The doorbell to the room chimed, snapping Johnson out of his thoughts. Briefly looking at the clock on his computer, he realized it was well past midnight. Who would want to speak with him at such an hour? Well, it was probably important. So he decided to let whoever this person was in.

In stepped Supreme Commander of the Earth Fleet, Admiral Paul Harrington. He had served in the fleet for decades, long before it had been revealed to the public. Eventually, he had become the Commandant of the Fleet Academy, during the same time Will was being trained there. He along with Johnson had led the second defense of Earth. When most of the Admiralty died when the Empire pushed through their defenses, the now decorated officer was promoted to the head of the fleet.

"Admiral, I didn't know you were coming," Johnson exclaimed. He had several questions already. Why was he here and how did he get here without Johnson noticing? Well, he had been off duty for several hours, but it would have been standard procedure to let him know that the Supreme Commander of the Fleet was coming.

"I didn't want to disturb you, Will. You have been busy, in fact too busy." He replied, coming further into the room.

"Well sir, it's what the job requires."

"According to your staff, you have regularly been working 16 hours a day. That isn't healthy, even if it were to be required. And it isn't, you have a very capable staff that are starting to complain that you are taking all the work."

"Well, Admiral, I've been planning for the upcoming…"

"Yes, and that is important. In fact, the reason I came here was to discuss what was going to happen next. From what I have seen, you appear to have a working plan for the offensive. We both are going to present that to the Secretary-General, along with a multitude of other officials. I've been trying to convince him it needs to happen, and he is intrigued. But we need to do more to fully justify it to him. Once that happens you're going to be taking a mandatory 2 week leave, along with Allison. I'm sure you two will find plenty to do."

"But sir…"

"I can handle things up here for a few weeks. I've been doing desk jobs for almost a year now, so I'd like some sort of change. I'd also like to see how you have done running the fleet."

"Alright Admiral, if you insist," Johnson said. Truth be told, he was kind of excited for some time off. "What made you come up here to deliver this message; couldn't you just have told me through comms?" He questioned.

"I was moving camp up here. Don't worry, I won't touch your room." The two laughed.

"You should go get some sleep, Will. It's going to be a busy day tomorrow."

"Alright sir, thank you." He left his office to head back to his quarters.

Inside his room was Commander Allison Chipper, head of the Special Research Division. And, more importantly to this moment, his girlfriend of one year. They had both been the highest-ranking officers aboard the ill-fated cruiser Hallsey after its bridge had been destroyed by the Empire during the first battle of Earth; he the ship's gunnery officer and her the chief engineer. They soon found themselves becoming friends following the stress of that battle, and after the second attempt by the Empire to invade Earth had started dating.

Due to their demanding positions, however, both of them didn't get to see a lot of each other. Allison's position had seen her working planetside a lot, overseeing projects to improve Earth's fighting capabilities.

"You're back early." She said, looking up from her datapad. Johnson walked over to his bed where she was laying.

"Harrington is here, he wants me to give a briefing to the Secretary-General tomorrow. After that, we both get a 2-week vacation."

"TWO WEEKS!" She exclaimed.

"Where would you like to go?" He asked, moving closer.

"Let's think about that later." She said seductively. "I think a celebration is in order."

The Titanius limped into the orbit of Garnizon II, bruised, beaten, and inflamed. Its hull was scorched in many places, a testament to the raw strength of its durasteel armor. However, there were still some minor breaches that had killed a number of its crew. The internal damage this had caused was nothing short of catastrophic. Fires raged across the ship which the damage control teams were only just starting to get under control. Some compartments had to be vented into space, killing many more of the crew. Several decks had collapsed under the stress of losing their support beams, and search and rescue teams had only recovered a few people. The internal structural damage would take several months of fixing to make the ship combat-ready again.

And the once-mighty Star Destroyer had gotten off easy compared to other ships in the small fleet. One of his three Nebulon B frigates had been destroyed by the (potentially) Earther attackers. One of the ones that remained had only light damage, but the other was held together with duraglue and bonding tape. Its vulnerable midsection that connected the main part of the ship's hull with the engineering section was close to breaking, which would lead to a catastrophic hull breach that would ultimately destroy the ship.

Half of his eight corvettes had been either destroyed or left behind, presumably captured or destroyed by the attackers. Of those that got out, two had critical damage with the other two mostly being alright. The two heavily damaged ones might be scrapped or relegated to being used as hulks in weapons testing.

But most embarrassing was the fact he had lost the Immobilizer 418 Interdictor Cruiser Senaili. Interdictors were a valuable asset, and he knew it would be a major mark on his career that he lost it. Not to mention losing most of the transport and freighters. The worst thing a convoy escort could do was lose the ships you were supposed to protect in the convoy.

Captain Gerroius Vent of the Imperial Navy had a sinking feeling that he was about to receive the biggest dressing down of his career. And perhaps the last. The shuttle journey to the large space station orbiting the planet felt the largest of his life but only took a few minutes.

He was escorted by a group of Stormtroopers to the office of Admiral Kumara Picot, the commander of all Imperial Navy forces in the sector. From what Vent had heard, he mostly had taken a backseat to everything that had happened with Earth, and according to a few wild alcohol-induced theories had used it to eliminate potential rivals. Under other circumstances, he would be intrigued and interested to meet this man. But now, he cowered in fear, hoping to avoid much of his wrath.

He reached the office and was escorted in. Picot was sitting at his desk in the sparsely decorated room. "Exit." He ordered the troopers. It would just be him and the Admiral.

"Captain, I heard there was an unfortunate incident during your journey here. Please recount what happened." He asked calmly.

"Well sir, we just came out of hyperspace. It was a few minutes, and we were just starting to charge the shields when they came out of hyperspace." He proceeded to recount the events of the brief battle.

"Ultimately Admiral there was nothing I could do. We were defenseless with our shields charging and had no reason to expect an attack."

Picot considered his options. Vent was fairly young, especially considering he already commanded a Star Destroyer. All reports indicated he was a resourceful and competent officer. On one hand, he felt that he should be punished for his actions, but even Grand Admiral Thrawn would not have fared much better in such an uneven fight.

"Captain, you and your crew performed to the best of your abilities, and there isn't anything else I could ask. I'm not going to punish you since there wasn't anything else you could do. I'll get the Titanus in one of the mobile drydocks. You are ordered to oversee the ship's repairs until completion."

"Yes sir."

"Good job Captain." Dismissed.

With that Gerrios Vent walked out of the office and back to the awaiting shuttle. He felt like he had just dodged a blaster bolt. In some sense he had, a less understanding Admiral might have shot him.

He looked forward to several months in the dock while the ship was under repair. It would give him some nice time to rest and relax after his arduous climb up the ladder of the Imperial Navy.