Ch. VII: The Nightmare of Milagro

C.S.S. Ambitious, en route to Milagro

Through the wild and surreal trails of hyperspace a group of twenty Confederate warships made their way to Milagro in a formation shaped like a three-sided pyramid. A single squadron, it consisted of a screen of fifteen Munificent Class frigates and Recusant Class destroyers. The Munificents, well-known for their adeptness as raiders and advance scouts, made up the outer walls of the formation, placed to serve as flankers and support for the more powerful ships. The Recusants, with main guns meant for a heavy cruiser mounted on their prows, were alongside the frigates. With a Munificent not having the firepower to go head-to-head with a Republic star destroyer, the Recusants were there to provide hardness to the Confederate screen. They weren't meant to fight a Republic capital ship on their own either, but as part of a formation such as this one they could do significant damage.

At the center of the pyramid were the five Confederate capital ships, the lynchpins of the force. Four of them were the venerated (dreaded by the Loyalists) Providence Class cruisers, including the flagship Ambitious. Possessing the speed of a cruiser and the armament of a star destroyer, they had a well-earned reputation as the tip of the Confederacy's spear. While their turbolasers, missile and torpedo launchers were all powerful and deadly, the true power of the Confederate cruisers lay in their midships. On both the port and starboard sides, heavily armored and shielded gun decks housed five proton cannons apiece. These cannons, even more powerful than their planet bound cousins, could pierce the strongest shields, shred the strongest armor, and obliterate the deepest fortifications. One round was all that was needed to wipe an entire city block from the map, or shear the bridge tower off of a Venator. So far, the Republic had no answer to these guns except to evade them. Their greatest handicap was that they were kept in fixed gun bays on the port and starboard sides, limiting their firing arcs. Something that had been exploited in the past.

Within the last capital ship lay the true strength of the Confederate squadron, the source of its moniker as a carrier group. The Lucrehulk-C Class was a more cargo-oriented variant of the heavily armed battleships of the same class. The cargo this specific class carried was not the unending droid hoards, however, but rather thousands upon thousands of droid fighters. Vultures, Hyenas, Troikas1, and various organically-piloted small craft were neatly packed into the carrier's cavernous hangars, ready to launch at a moment's notice either through the two main openings at the end of each arm or through numerous launch tubes located along the edge of the ship's ring. A Confederate carrier could easily put five thousand small-craft into the void in seconds, and supplemented by the already numerous compliments of the other ships this made for any Loyalist fighter wing being outnumbered by several orders of magnitude.

From the bridge of the Ambitious, Vader stared out upon this force and the blue madness of hyperspace which lay beyond. Around him the bridge was mostly silent, the crew working diligently to ensure that nothing catastrophic happened while they were in transit to their target. He approved of the lack of chit chat; the last thing he wanted was to die because of a simple mechanical or systems error due to lack of attention.

He smiled as he took in the crazed blue lines and glimpses of a damning void that made up the vista of hyperspace. Most beings avoided looking directly at it for fear of Hyperspace Madness, but he found it pleasing. There was something roguish and gallant about trusting the fate of a campaign, of your very life, to the whims of a dimension that no one truly understood. That, and it was beautiful in its own way. The pallet of blues and whites and blacks flashing by in an infinite loop made for quite the sight.

Shaking his head at the errant thoughts, the Confederate Admiral checked his holowatch. It was set on a countdown for the ETA, a countdown which was becoming increasingly smaller.

"Status report," he called out, wanting to make sure there were no missed issues with the fleet.

"Sir," the tactical droid replied, its eyes flashing as it ran through the systems. "All sections report optimal conditions and combat readiness. No serious issues have been discovered."

Vader nodded, pleased. "And the fleet?"

The droid's eyes flashed again, for a longer period this time. "All ships report combat readiness. C.S.S. Reaper reports a connectivity issue with some its fighter wings, but aside from that there are no immediate concerns."

"Good," Vader said, his smile widening under his helmet. "It seems we're as ready for the Republic's trap as we can be."

The tactical droid (he really needed to come up with a name for it) clasped its hands behind its back, nodding its head in agreement. "Indeed, sir. By my calculations there is a considerable chance that intelligence's numbers were misleading, at the very least."

"My thoughts as well," The cyborg replied. "There will almost certainly be a Jedi or two among the enemy forces. This will not be as simple as Ventress' smash and grab."

"How is she faring, by the way?" Vader asked.

"The commander has settled into her position well enough, surprisingly," the tactical droid said after a moment. "She has spent most of the past two days running simulations for her part in the operation."

Vader nodded, approving of Ventress' dedication. She was still hotheaded and mildly disrespectful, but he could ignore that in the face of her genuine desire to do well and succeed. She took her objectives seriously, if nothing else. Hopefully her battlefield record would not come back to haunt her in this battle.

"Let us hope her practice pays off," he said, leaving the matter. "What do you think of my prediction regarding Tambor's actual location?"

It was a thought that had occurred to him once they had split from the rest of the fleet, and the closer they got to their target the more convinced he was that he was right. He already believed the Republic had more than a few extra ships waiting for him, why not add this bit of subterfuge on top of it?

Essentially, the prediction was that the Republic had decided to stick Tambor in a ship aside from the obvious location of one of their Venators. Intel's findings be damned, it was what Vader would have done if his defenses were so light, especially if he knew the enemy was going to hit him and hit him hard.

"It is not outside the realm of possibility," the tactical droid answered after a moment of number crunching. "The chances of your prediction being correct increase if the ones who orchestrated the trap are the Open Circle Fleet's regular commanders."

That would be a trick from the playbook of those two. Vader had studied the battles of Obi-wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker multiple times, and his conclusion was that Skywalker was a mad daredevil. Kenobi was the only one who could target his madness into something useful.

He both dreaded and anticipated their eventual meeting on the battlefield. Hopefully that meeting wouldn't involve testing their swordplay.

"Indeed," Vader replied, banishing his errant thoughts. "I just hope they aren't here in person. I'm perhaps a bit green to be taking on such veterans."

Before the tactical droid could respond, most likely with a dry remark about his current record for Jedi killing, a warning was announced by a technician stating their imminent arrival.

"Battle stations throughout the fleet," the tactical droid declared without prompting (it was getting better and better at predicting Vader's orders). "Fighters have priority for small craft launches. Spool up the proton cannons and ready thrusters for maneuvers."

A shrill alarm blared throughout every ship on the fleet, organics and droids alike rushing to their positions. Last minute checks were run on small craft before their launch, while bulkheads were sealed and security details readied for possible boarding actions. At the same time boarding craft carrying entire battalions of battle droids were primed, their black forms merely waiting for the go ahead to launch. The main guns on the prows of the screens whirred to life, while in the gunbays of the cruisers the proton cannons hummed ominously as their ammunition racks cycled the opening round. Onboard the carrier, droid fighters and bombers cycled into their launch tubes, their engines humming as they readied to sortie.

For a moment the everything seemed still, the tension thick and oppressive as everyone readied themselves for the coming crucible. It was a moment both terribly long and all too short.

The blue insanity of hyperspace retreated, and soon battle was joined.

"Launch."

Asajj grinned at the simple command, gunning the engines on her distinctive Ginivex fighter out of the launch tube. Upon exiting from her mothership, Ventress unfolded the fighter's sail, and what she saw made her whistle.

Vader clearly hadn't been exaggerating when he talked about the carrier group's efficiency. Already there were thousands of fighters and bombers in the void, arranged into attack formations and making their way to the scrambling Republic ships. And there were thousands, thousands more just waiting to go.

With a longing look at the shrinking dots of the first wave, Ventress put her own craft into a holding pattern above the Ambitious. Much as it rankled her, and no matter how much pestering and attempted strong-arming she did, Vader had not budged on keeping her out of the initial attack. Logically she knew it wasn't her mission, but her blood sang at the thought of crashing into the enemy's fighter formations, of cleaving a fiery swathe through the Jedi's slaves.

Speaking of, she took a look at the sensor telemetry provided by the capital ships, and quickly grimaced. That… was quite a few more combat vessels than intelligence had accounted for. The enemy easily matched their own force in terms of quantity, and the number of Venators was double their own capital ships. Perhaps this was the Force chiding her for being so gung-ho with this mission.

Her comm. pinged, and upon answering she was greeted with the death rattle of Darth Vader's breath.

"Ventress," he said, the baritone voice betraying none of his thoughts. "It seems we'll have too up your timetable. Even with our predictions, there are still more ships than we anticipated."

"Fine with me," the Dark Sider replied, none too worried about her own prospects. "I'm not sure how many of the transports will actually break through if we go now though."

"No worries," Vader said, garnering an unseen raised eyebrow from Ventress. "The enemy's numbers will not be too much of an issue."

"Oh?"

Ventress sensed a savage anticipation from her fellow Dark Sider, and even though she was thousands of meters away it caused her to shudder. Her master had said that when he first met him Vader's presence in the Force was muted, describing it as akin to looking at something through a distorted glass window.

She felt that assertion needed a slight reassessment, because what she felt now was almost as oppressive as when he had loomed over her in his quarters, every inch a Sith Lord.

Secretly, in the depths of her deepest thoughts, Ventress admitted that she was afraid of this man and what he could do.

"It's simple," the Confederate Admiral said, either oblivious to her feelings or more likely not caring. "The enemy thinks their numbers give them an advantage, but all they've done is give us more targets."

With that the channel was closed, leaving Ventress none the wiser as to how the Confederates would get out of their current predicament. Nonetheless, she decided to put her trust in whatever Vader's solution turned out to be, knowing that she had her own part to play.

It was only when she was redirected to link up with the boarding transports as they were launched, that a quick look at her sensors gave her an idea of how they were going to offset the Republic's numbers.

"That clever bastard."

C.S.S. Ambitious

"Second wave has reached their positions, flight commanders report readiness."

"And so, they sit in our jaws," Vader said idly, gazing at the projected layout of the battlefield. He despaired slightly at the predictability of his opponents.

It was a well-established fact that most Confederate formations up to this moment had utilized a Lucrehulk-B as their lynchpin. These ships were best suited for the big gun battles that had dominated the war so far. They were big, heavily armed, and not did not carry as heavy a compliment of small craft as a carrier variant. Which meant that most Confederate formations did not have the sheer number of fighters and bombers, and the enhanced power projection that came with them, as a carrier group from Task Group Rancor.

This meant that Vader could not only launch an all-out attack with thousands of his small craft, he could also send another formation of equal size as the first to menace his enemy on the flanks. And if those flanks happened to consist of helpless transports with nowhere to go…

"Enemy ships are breaking off from their main formation," an organic operator called out with growing excitement. "Around three quarters are holding their positions facing us."

Vader smirked at the eagerness of his crew. Their enthusiasm was infectious. "Status of our first wave?"

"First wave has made contact," another operator said. "Enemy small craft have engaged, but we have a 5:1 superiority."

That the Confederate forces still had enough reserves to launch another two waves of equal size to the ones they already had went unsaid.

"Tell Ventress to get ready to fall in with the boarding transports, they'll be launching shortly. Meanwhile, maneuver our cruisers into formation Zeta, order their starboard proton cannons targeting systems to be slaved to ours. Status of the observation droid?"

"In position, Rear Admiral," a droid said as the cruiser shuddered, the Ambitious and her sister ships already presenting their starboard sides. "Targeting data is being sent now."

Normally, the proton cannons were not able to make the best of their exceedingly long range, being hampered by a targeting system that made Vader want to snap the neck of whoever had designed it. With telemetry from a recon craft lazing far from the battle, however, they were able to make up for the system's deficiencies, and get the most out of their main guns.

"Excellent, prepare to fire on my mark," Vader said, the lights on the bridge soon flickering as the proton cannons began powering up for their first shots. In the gun bays of each cruiser the cannons adjusted their barrels down to the smallest fraction of a degree, the targeting computers on board the Ambitious ensuring that each cannon was aimed for a different target. The starboard gun bays of the Confederate cruisers were soon filled with a deafening hum as twenty cannons each with the power to wipe a city block from existence were readied to be unleashed. Even if the Loyalist capital ships had been able to detect the locks, there would have been little they could do about it. They had not planned on the enemy having so many Providences lined up, and the most certainly hadn't counted on an enemy who had worked around the well-known issues with the targeting systems. It meant that up until now, range had never been an issue for Loyalist ships when fighting the Confederates. And one distinct advantage a Providence had was that its proton cannons far outranged the main guns of a Venator.

"Targets dialed in and cannons loaded," the tactical droid said, its eyes flashing. "When you are ready, sir."

For a moment the bridge was silent, everyone tensed in anticipation. Outside the opposing forces' fighter wings clashed, brightening the space around Milagro with the flairs of dying pilots and disintegrating fighters. Droid bombers made daring runs on Republic warships, attempting to be as much of a nuisance as possible to their larger targets. Damage was done, but even with proton torpedoes there was only so much they could do. On the bridge of the Righteous, the Loyalist flagship, a previously serene Jedi called out in panic for his fleet to take evasive action.

It was too late.

"Fire."

Aboard each Confederate cruiser five thunderous booms sounded as their proton cannons fired the opening volley. Lights flickered (and in a couple of cases even shorted out) as their main armaments sounded off their contempt for the very idea of Republic shielding. As for the Republic ships themselves, it was but an instant before most of them were hit. Two of the shots had outright missed, while four more had been slightly off the mark and hadn't hit the exact spot they were aiming for, but the rest were dead on. Venators and Acclamators belched fire and smoke as they struggled to compensate for the sudden massive damage they had received. One Loyalist cruiser even started drifting, her engines having been totaled by a very lucky shot.

The crews of the Confederate ships let loose a cheer. They knew their enemy hadn't yet been beaten, but no one could deny the Loyalist forces had been given a bloody nose. Already the enemy formation was breaking ranks, abandoning cohesion in favor of avoiding being hit in a similar manner to their sister ships.

The proton cannons fired again, most of their shots hitting the same ships as before. Many of these went dark as their power cut out and were considered mission kills, while others had their bridges sheared off and were rendered largely ineffective. A Venator snapped in half as her superstructure was shredded. The Loyalist vessels that were able began to advance, hoping to get in range and let loose with their own turbolasers. Some even tried firing a volley without the aid of their targeting computers, which had predictable results. Notably, among the surviving vessels that had advanced was the Righteous, the ostensible target of the Confederate assault.

"We can fire one more volley," the tactical droid said. "After that the cannons risk overheating if not given a cool down time."

"No matter, their formation has been sufficiently disrupted," Vader said. "Launch the next wave, and send in the boarding transports. Target is the Righteous."

The orders were relayed, and soon even more droid fighters and bombers were soaring through the void, both to reinforce the ongoing clash of the first wave and to give cover to the boarding craft which were in their midst.

"Sir, Republic ships aren't stopping their advance," an organic operator called out. "They'll make contact with our screen in ten."

"Detach Hellhound and Blackstar to reinforce, tell the screen to engage in a fighting withdrawal. They do not need to stand their ground, only delay the enemy."

Again, the orders were relayed, and the tactical droid leaned towards Vader. "The inclusion of the Righteous in their charge brings the chances of Tambor's location being a different ship up substantially."

"I know," Vader replied, folding his arms. "But we planned for this anyway. We'll know which orders to give as soon as we have our answer. Give ourselves away too early and the enemy might catch on."

The droid could only nod, and they resumed watching the readouts. They had done their part; the ball was in Ventress' court now. It was time to see if she could pull her weight.

Ventress grinned savagely as she gunned her engines, her fighter one of thousands of Confederate small craft hurtling towards the battered Republic fleet. Even as they attempted to break through the Confederate screen, which was keeping its distance and pouring out its own withering hail of turbolaser fire, the Loyalist ships were swarmed with droid fighters and bombers still intact from the first wave. The Republic's fighters were engaged in dogfights where their odds were five to one, at best. Even the vaunted flying of the clone pilots would only go so far before numbers crushed them.

In the distance she could see the specks of the other formation of Loyalist warships and transports that had been forced to watch as the main formation of their fleet was systematically mauled by the combined arms of Vader's proton cannons and his vast small craft formations. The warships protecting the transports couldn't do anything to help their comrades either; in their minds the only thing keeping the medical and supply ships from being massacred by the other droid swarm watching them was their presence. Strangely Ventress could not taste the despair that their enemy must surely be feeling, but it didn't matter. She'd savor their pain as she danced with her blades.

Bursts of flak began appearing in the void among the droid formations, meaning they had entered the enemy's AA envelope. Fighters assigned to protect the transports, not including her own, kept in tight groupings around their charges. Some of them disappeared in brief flashes, absorbing the flak. No enemy fighters even got close enough to fire upon the transports; they were busy enough just trying to survive. Explosions and vaporized corpses were testaments to how well that was going for the clones.

She had not been sure what to make of this new Admiral's view on space warfare, but she had to admit that it was getting results. A confused enemy thrown into disarray, scores of their proud ships drifting or outright annihilated, and what's more a full quarter of their fleet pinned down by a vast formation of small craft that had yet to even fire a shot. It was clear that part of Vader's success came from the fact that the Jedi weren't used to an enemy who favored such tactics. Most Confederate commanders were corporate enforcers who were used to getting their way from the safety of a big battleship. The Loyalists, stupidly enough on their own end, had not counted on facing an enemy that knew the true strengths and weaknesses of his own ships and used them accordingly. They had not faced formations of Munificents and Recusants that flowed like water and refused an upfront engagement. They had never faced an enemy who understood that the droid fighters and bombers were good for more than a suicide charge at the beginning of the battle.

She wouldn't call this a victory yet, but she could get used to giving the Jedi and their lapdogs such thrashings if this is what it looked like.

Her sensors beeped, reminding her that they were approaching their target. The Righteous loomed ever larger in her field of vision, and even if it had been bloodied by Confederate fire it was still impressive to look at. She began to slow her fighter down, allowing the boarding craft to continue on their trajectory without her. The droids would be the first boots on the ground, and it wasn't like she could get in without them seizing the hangars first.

Ventress had protested to Vader, saying it would be more efficient if she was put on one of the boarding craft, but his reply had been simple.

"The droids can be easily replaced, but you will still need a way to get off the ship."

It was a simple argument, but one that she couldn't refute either.

The transports made contact, spearing through the outer hull of the Venator. Unseen by Ventress dozens of super battle droids activated and detached from their wracks, opening fire on clone security teams still preparing to repel them. Ventress circled around the Loyalist ship, lazily avoiding the flak being thrown up as she did so.

Before long she received a ping indicating the droids had seized the hangar, and with a grin she angled her fighter to make a landing. The ship's aa still tried to stop her, but the Force was with Ventress in that moment, and soon she had landed her fighter and was walking through scorched corridors littered with clone bodies. She had refused an escort, telling the droids to keep the security teams pinned down and distracted. They'd only slow her down, anyway.

The prison block was this way, she thought, casually deflecting a blaster bolt back at the clone who had tried to ambush her. He fell with a thud, smoke rising from his helmet. A few minutes later, another lunged from a doorway, vibroblade in hand. He registered his lost limbs before a red flash overtook everything. Right after that, a potshot from around a corner. Dealt with when her lightsaber was thrown through the wall and impaled the clone's heart.

On an on Ventress went, the sounds of firefights a distant thing. Her only company were the clones that tried, and failed, to kill her. Some died instantly, some wished they had. They all met the same fate. At first the Dark Sider was entertained by these little acts of defiance, but soon she grew bored with them.

Halfway to her destination a squad of clones rounded the corner, rearing back in surprise as they nearly ran into each other. She grinned as she ignited her lightsabers.

The troopers opened fire, but Ventress was like a dervish, dancing through their ranks with a graceful ferocity. Two went down in an instant, their heads flying.

One of the clones rushed her with a vibroblade, roaring in challenge. Ventress scoffed, angling her blades to sever his arm in several places as she easily dodged the thrust. Another tried to hit her from behind with the butt of his rifle, earning him a saber through the heart. Another earned a gash on his side, causing him to roar in pain and fall to the ground.

Two of the clones pulled back, turning their rifles on full auto and letting loose. Twirling one of her crimson blades in rapid fashion to deflect the bolts, the Dark Sider grabbed one of the dead clones with the Force, throwing him at the two clones and throwing them off balance. With a lunge she was upon the two before they could recover, and soon their rifles were silenced.

She glanced back to the one survivor, trying to crawl to a dropped rifle. She put a stop to that, the heel of her boot digging into the trooper's back. His pained cries were like soothing midsummer's rain to her ears.

"You know what I don't understand about you clones?" she asked idly, twirling one of her lightsabers. "You just don't give up. No matter how many droids we throw at you or how many of you fall, you just keep trying to resist. I would find it admirable if it wasn't so Forcedamned annoying."

She punctuated her statement with a stomp of her foot, making the clone cry out and at the very least cracking his spine.

"Why in the galaxy do you fight? The Republic doesn't care about you, the Jedi order sends you to your deaths almost daily, and for what? A rotting government too stubborn to admit that it's already dead? Citizens who watch the war from the safety of the Core Worlds like it's some kind of holodrama? It'd be sad if it wasn't so funny!"

The clone tried to say something, but all that came out was a pained gurgle. Curious, Ventress eased up the pressure on his back, not that it would do much for his pain. "What was that?"

"…Frack you, Separatist bitch."

She noticed the clone holding something, and her eyes widened at the sight of a frag grenade being cooked off in his hand. She jumped back, pulling the Force around her body like a cloak. It was just in time as the grenade exploded not a moment later. Once the dust settled, Ventress was greeted by the sight of a thoroughly ruined corridor and scraps of white armor and unidentifiable bits of flesh.

For a moment she simply stared before spitting on the ground.

"Ma'am," a mechanical voice said, and she turned to see a troop of B2s standing at attention. They had clearly seen combat if the scorch marks were anything to go by. "Our forces have secured the detention block, but Councilor Tambor was nowhere to be found."

Ventress scowled but wasn't too surprised. Vader's prediction had proven correct. "Well, it seems they hid him on one of the other ships. Have you been able to find out where he is?"

"He is not here, ma'am."

Ventress' scowl deepened, this time in annoyance. "Of course, he isn't. I'm asking which ship he's on now. Unless you can't figure that out?"

"Councilor Tambor is not onboard any of the ships, Ma'am."

"What?" she said, eyes widening. "Our intelligence said he was here; I was guaranteed that it was correct!"

"The Councilor is not here," the droid repeated, unable to perceive Ventress' surprise. "We have checked the enemy records, and it appears that he was sent out with an earlier convoy."

What is going on? Ventress thought, her mind a storm of panicked thoughts. Master assured me that the intelligence was correct, he trusted the source absolutely!

And yet that source had proven wrong, in spite of everything. This entire mission had been a waste of time, whoever had sent that intel she would be sure they-

"No," she said, as a horrifying realization dawned on her. "This isn't just bad intel. We've been tricked."

It all made sense, the ludicrously vulnerable convoys, the opportunity that seemed too good to be true. It had all been a ruse meant to draw them out. It twisted her gut to admit it, but considering this, it was best if they retreated while they still had the chance.

"We need to leave," she said, turning to the droids. "Have all forces engage in a delaying action. Take as many of the clones with you as possible."

Suddenly the Force screamed at Ventress, and without hesitation she vaulted to the left. Where she had been standing an azure blade buzzed through the air, impaling the droid she had been speaking to before returning to its owner's outstretched hand. The Dark Sider landed in a crouch, igniting her lightsabers and baring her teeth. The droids immediately opened fire, but it did little good as the Jedi (how had she not sensed them?!) deflected the shots. It was not just one Jedi that stood there but three, and they immediately went to work on the battle droids, tearing them apart in a similar manner to how she'd killed the clones earlier.

Where there had been a squad of super battle droids, now there stood the three Jedi, two wielding blades of blue while the last wielded a blade of vermillion. To Ventress' credit she merely assumed a ready stance in her preferred form, watching warily as the Jedi focused their attention on her. One of them, appearing to be a Knight, glanced at the bodies of the clones before looking the Dark Sider right in the eyes.

"You're going to pay for what you did to these men."

"Better than you have tried," Ventress said with a sneer, twirling her blades. The air became rank with the stench of ozone as the warriors sized each other up. Subtly, she began keying in the comm device on her jaw. "But please, don't let that stop you."

Ventress hoped they didn't see her bravado for what it was. Mediocre commanders they may be, but no one took on three Jedi Knights at once without some forethought. And even if she had prepared for such an engagement, she did not have the time for this right now.

With a cry the three Jedi lunged forward, and Ventress once again entered a dance that was certain to test her skills.

Vader observed stoically as the Loyalist force continued to exchange fire with his screen. He had trained his crews well; they were putting up more than a good fight. Almost no enemy ship was without damage and a few were confirmed mission kills. Even if the Confederate screen had taken some losses of its own, they were holding steady. The presence of the two cruisers Reaper and Blackstar provided an extra punch, finishing off Republic ships that had been withered away by the efforts of the frigates and destroyers.

If he so wished, Vader could easily turn this encounter into a tactical victory, especially if he was able to pick off some of the supply ships.

"Incoming message, priority one," a droid said. "It's from Commander Ventress."

"Put it on," Vader said, hoping for good news. If she had already found Tambor then maybe they could get out of here before the rest of the Republic's trap was sprung.

What came on the speakers wasn't the sound of Tambor being rescued, but instead the growls and grinds of clashing lightsabers. The organic crewmembers glanced at one another, not liking the implications. Vader's brow furrowed, knowing immediately that something was wrong, when he began to hear it.

Interspersed between the blades, a series of clicks, exhaled breaths and grunts could be heard, appearing to be at random to any normal listener. But not to a Sith. Vader knew this code; it was something developed by the ancient Sith to communicate secretly if normal means were impossible or undesirable. A corner of his mind was impressed that Ventress knew it, considering how old the code was.

He listened to the sounds and quickly deciphered the message, and his admiration for his colleague's knowledge quickly turned to alarm.

"Pull our ships back," he said suddenly, surprising the bridge crew. "Get them back to our position, double time!"

"Sir?" the tactical droid asked. "We have the enemy off balance, why-"

"New contacts!" a sensor tech shouted, drawing everyone's attention. "Scanning… Republic ships, coming out from the second moon's shadow! A full battlegroup!"

Indeed, coming from behind the planet at rapid speed and launching fighters were three dozen additional Republic warships, a screen of Acclamators centered around a core of Venators that were already angling their guns even though they were far from within range.

There were no panicked cries from the orderlies, they were much too professional for that. But the tension on the bridge spiked noticeably.

"It would seem they've sprung their trap," Vader said gravely, turning to the tactical droid. "Tambor was never here, that was Ventress' message. This was a setup, to draw us in."

"Do we cut our losses and retreat?" the droid asked, cocking its head.

"Not until we've recovered Ventress," Vader replied. "Obnoxious she may be, we're the ones who sent her in there. We need to at least give her a chance to get out."

"The enemy's positioned so that they can easily overrun us unless we concede our position at the jump point. To do that is to trap ourselves here," the tactical droid said, its eyes flashing as it ran countless calculations. Were it within its programming Vader might have thought it sounded desperate. "Any standard engagement ends in our defeat, no matter what we do,"

"Then we'll just have to make sure we don't fight a standard battle, won't we?" Vader said rhetorically. He turned to the bridge crew, knowing that they needed his guidance. "Open a channel to all friendly ships."

"Y-yes, sir," the orderly said, looking slightly ashamed of the stutter. Vader didn't blame her for it. Soon he was keyed in to the fleet, and the orderly nodded once.

"I can sense your fear," Vader said once he knew the fleet was listening. "You are right to be afraid. I'm sure that you can see what the enemy has brought to bear against us. Don't banish that fear or smother it. Seize it. Grab it with both hands and sharpen it to a razor's edge. It will be your most potent weapon for what's about to come. The Loyalists are fighting to gain victory over an enemy they already see as beaten. They look at this and don't see a military operation, but pest control. Their motivation is weak, because they aren't fighting for themselves."

"We are fighting for ourselves. We are fighting not to win, not to secure glory for the nation, but to survive. That is why, if you follow my orders, we will win, and more importantly, we will live. That is all."

Vader had the channel closed, pausing as he saw the organic crewmembers. Their faces were set with grim determination, and in the Force he could feel the fire of their resolve burning like the hottest lightsaber. It was not just on his ship either. He could feel it throughout the fleet. They refused to be cowed, even in the face of such odds. They knew that they had a chance, not just because they were good sailors or because of some strategic advantage.

They had faith because they were his sailors. Not their planets', not the Confederacy's, but his. Because they knew that Darth Vader would do everything in his power to get them to safety, regardless of what stood in the way.

If this was pride, then Vader understood why it was so easy to fall into it.

"The ships have fixed their formation, sir," the tactical droid said. "The fleet stands ready for your orders."

The Sith turned to the tactical layout, painting a grim picture of their situation. He felt himself grin.

"Alert all commands," he said, leaning over the holotable. "This will be a fight to remember."

Footnotes:

1. A name I thought up for the tri-fighters. I thought it was... weird that they didn't have some sort of designation like the Vulture, so I've given them one here.

Author's Note: What's this? An update that doesn't take half a year? Madness!

I'm liking this new drive I've got all of a sudden. You can thank Sabaton for helping me type up this chapter.

Someone brought it up in a review about how dispersed his forces are, but Vader is actually breaking one of Yamamoto's fundamental rules about carrier warfare. Never disperse your forces. One reason the Kido Butai was able to run rampant across the Pacific and Indian oceans for a time was because their concentration of force meant the Allies didn't have any force of sufficient strength to hit back with. Until Midway, that is. On that note, it's actually rather sad how the Americans refused to grasp the implications of carriers on naval warfare up until Pearl Harbor left them with nothing else to work with.

That's not to say that Vader can't get away with it once or twice when he has too, but luck is a cruel mistress when entreated too often.

I was always bothered by how the proton cannons the C.I.S. used were wasted in the Clone Wars series. Their very first scene shows them knocking an Acclamator out of the sky and forcing the others back into orbit, and we know from the movies that at least the Providence Class carries them (even if they were used in a very, very stupid way). Other than that, they get used as background pieces for the Jedi or clones to smash, at best. As you can see, I've tweaked with them a bit, hopefully in a way that doesn't make them too overpowered. And you can bet that when Vader gets the chance he'll be having words with the targeting computer's programmers and Confederate R&D about those lovely guns.

Aside from that, I'm sure you can all guess who's responsible for this little mess Vader's found himself in.

Leave a comment, and I'll see you all next time.