The First Contact War
Chapter 35
Attero Dominatus
"Attero! Dominatus! Berlin is burning. Denique! Interimo! The reich has fallen."
Sabaton
25031 Galactic Standard Calendar, Admiral Darthur, Republic Star Destroyer Tranquillity
"ETA to transit, 30 seconds."
Admiral Darthur braced himself unconsciously, glancing over at the hologram of the grim-faced Admiral Hackett.
"So, you really think your carrier-based fleets will work?" Darthur asked.
He wasn't sure himself, but the Republic admiralty had been more than willing to throw their support behind the effort, offering three strike fleets. This brought the combined total of ships to four Republic strike fleets and a dozen Orionian Carrier Battle Groups. Darthur still doubted the effectiveness of dedicated carrier strike craft though; he was a dyed-in-the-wool old school void-sucker. Naval warfare had long been dominated by the large capital ships. Massive Cruisers, Battleships and Dreadnaughts duking it out with some starfighter support. Not waves of starfighters swarming enemy vessels.
"You watch that vid I gave you?" Hackett growled, his mind obviously elsewhere.
Darthur nodded. What the Battle of Midway had to do with their current situation, he wasn't sure. How could fighters in space be the same as planes on ships that actually moved on water?
"Then you had damn well better believe I know this will work."
"Exiting Hyperspace now," the navigator called.
Darthur swallowed. This was going to be interesting. "If we win, I'll give you my collection of the finest wines available," he muttered.
"Done!" Hackett answered, a rare grin supported on his face. "Prepare to launch fighters!"
25031 Galactic Standard Calendar, Admiral Croket, Lucrehulk Frieghter CIS Maruader
"New contacts plotted. Identifying. Confirmed as Orionian and Republic forces."
Croket frowned at the display for a moment, then broke into a predatory grin. "Well, well, well. Looks like we're finally going to have something to do other than blast away at asteroids and smugglers. Assume Waiting Maw formation. Those idiots only barely have the edge in cruisers and frigates, and we out number them by twelve dreadnaughts."
A LADAR technician Driod spoke up. "Sir two dozen of their ships appear to be dreadnaught size, but they don't appear to have a main battery. They look like some sort of support craft. A large number of fighters are launching from them."
"What sort of idiot builds a ship that only carries fighters?" Croket laughed, shaking his head in amusement. "Force, these Orionians are primitive."
25031 Galactic Standard Calendar, Admiral Darthur, Republic Star Destroyer Tranquillity
"Wait for our fighters to engage their dreadnoughts, then make an attack run at our designated target," Darthur ordered his helmsmen.
"Aye aye Sir."
Inwardly, Darthur was sweating. Thousands of years of military tradition told him that the scheme the Orionian counterparts had cooked up was doomed to fail. No one, not even the Old Republic or Sith Empire, had ever constructed a proper dedicated carrier before*. Dreadnoughts and Star Destroyers were just how it was done. Sure there were large ships that carried significant compliments of Starfighters but they weren't ever dedicated carriers. But they needed something to give them an edge in this fight, that was certain.
Slowly, the great dance was joined as the human and Republic starfighters engaged their enemy. The Separatist fighters were designed to be cheap and replaceable and swarmed the enemy in mass. The Orionians other the other hand built High-Tec starfighters with much better specs than any other starfighter currently. Quality vs Quantity as it always was in engagements between the Orionians and Separatists. The Republic went down a middle path that produced cheap and replaceable starfighters that were a bit more advanced than their droid counterparts.
He watched on his holo table as it represented the engagement taking place thousands of kilometres away. The Orionians favoured missiles as the primary armament of their starfighters with guns as secondary, another difference between Republic/Separatists starfighters and Orionian ones. He watched as the display showed the Orionians launch three consecutive waves of missiles at the Vulture droids. The Orionian missiles had tiny RCS pods built into them meaning that their missiles could be fired at any angle and no amount of fancy manoeuvres would be able to shake them, being able to just turn instantly. The same applied to their starfighters that also used RCS to allow them to make turns or do tricks that were impossible to conventional starfighters.
The result of these advantages saw half the Vulture droids destroyed in the opening salvos of the battle before they even got into gun range. The Orionian fleets had deliberately dropped out of slipspace further than any assaulting Republic and Separatists fleet would. It made more sense now. The Vulture droids had been launched to retaliate to the Starfighters launched by the Orionians, but the distance between the two fleets meant that the Separatists superior naval guns would be able to attack the Orionians fleets or starfighters. In addition the range of the Vulture Droids was too short to attack the Orionian ships. As such the next ten minutes were a slaughter fest for the droids as they were cut down by the highly skilled Orionian pilots. Like a swarm of angry wasps, the Orionian and Republic pilots smashed into their foes, obliterating most of the Separatist fighter screen. The Without the range of their enemies' weapons, most of the Separatist fighters were destroyed before they could respond. Not used to fighters assuming such an offensive role, the Separatists were trapped by their own doctrine and their inability to manoeuvre due to their proximity to their own ships.
At first, the Separatist fleet didn't seem to realize its peril it was in now that it had little to no fighter support. After all, battles were decided by massive star ships, not tiny single person ships. And then millennia of conventional naval doctrine came crashing down.
With the fighter screen removed, the Orionian forces sent in their bombers, shocking the Sepi's into motion. The CIS had believed that fighters would account for the bulk of the enemy light craft. They were wrong, mostly. While the entirety of the Separatist fighters were engaged with the still outnumbered Orionians. A second and third starfighter group mainly consisting of bombers with some interceptor escort came in from the Separatists left and right flank.
Darthur watched in amazement as the first line of Separatist screening cruisers and frigates simply disappeared in balls of nuclear fire. The Orionian bombers had been equipped with Mk XVIII Exocet 2B anti-ship Missiles and some had nuclear tipped anti-ship missiles.
"Begin attack run!" Darthur ordered, his pulse racing. The CIS forces now in disarray, the bombers had easy pickings, crippling and destroying ships far outside the Star Destroyers weight class.
"They got a dreadnought! Those little bastards actually got a dreadnought!"
Cheers erupted on the Tranquility's bridge as the leading CIS capital ships suddenly lost engine power and began to vent massive quantities of atmosphere. It was like the first domino falling; within minutes, the second CIS dreadnought was shattered into two pieces, and a third forced to limp away from the battle with its main battery destroyed.
The last fell prey to the Orionian's own shock cannons, exploding into a dozen pieces under sustained bombardment. Their fleet broken, the remaining Separatist vessels immediately began to group round the Lucrehulk freighters in an attempt to support each other's AA fire. But by this point a third of the Orionian cruisers had broken off and started to fire their Shock Cannons which tore apart any hull that got in their way.
"I don't believe it! We've beaten the Separatist home fleet!" Darthur cheered, dancing for joy upon his captain's chair. They had just done in the impossible. They had just defeated the Space forces of the Separatist capital world. Now they just had to defeat the remaining fighters and commence an orbital assault before any Separatist senators and military officials could escape.
"Sir, Admiral Hackett is contacting you."
"Put him on." Ordered Darthur as he strode over to the holo projector.
"Best bet I've ever lost." Darthur declared.
"See, what did I tell you boy? Just like Midway. Metal bastards never even had a chance."
Darthur nodded. "I have to agree. I think you've just changed military doctrine forever, Admiral."
"Jesus Christ, I hope not! Then we'd actually have a fight on our hands!"
The two men laughed, then joined in the exuberant celebration. The Coalition casualties had been light, and though hundreds had lost their lives, the survivors would honour their sacrifice by fighting on.
"This war isn't over, but maybe it's the beginning of the end" Hackett stated, his eyes glittering.
2623 12th January Earth Standard Calendar, 2d Lt Richard Corvax, 617th Naval Air Squadron, Raxus System
"Fuck me…" Corvax breathed into the flight mask. His Broadsword had come back off of patrol of the carriers and now after forty five precious minutes of refuelling he was above the Raxus atmosphere, staring at what had to be the entire remaining clanker air force barely over a hundred miles away. Automatically his HUD began tagging enemies at the edge of the radar which appeared so bunched up that it was a wall of red.
"What was that lead?" Rogue three asked. "Didn't copy last."
Corvax ignored him for the moment and switched to the Crosscom channel that had every squadron leader and AWACs communicating with each other.
"Watchtower, Rogue is on station now."
"Good to hear you Rogue. Welcome to the wild west." The flight director chuckled grimly. "Enemy bandits are two seven zero angels ten. Count them eight hundred plus. I'll say that again, bandits number eight zero zero."
"Fuck!" Corvax snorted. Broadsword pilots had always been taught that they would be outnumbered in an aerial fight, but this was ridiculous.
"Rogue, we're going to need you at grid seven two with Dagger and Talon flight. Come about to one eight zero."
"Solid copy all." Corvax banked his fighter left and kept his fighter flying at six hundred knots, a slow and leisurely cruise. To his right, he saw orange flashes in the void. A dozen twin engine fighters, outlined in blue for friendlies, streaked forward toward the swarm of red and held course for fifteen seconds. Corvax thought that he had missed the weapons free order for a moment and then the blue tagged friendlies pulled out of their feint and circled back.
"Rogue, cycle down two channels. We'll be squawking with you all on that freq. Your call sign is now red group."
"Solid copy." Corvax said and he slotted himself in the racetrack patterns that the other two twelve man squadrons were flying. His HUD told him these friendlies were both Orionian and made up Broadswords and Sabres.
"Good to see you Rogue." The crosscom identified the squadron leader of Dagger.
"You too Dagger." Corvax said as he began the lazy turns at six hundred knots. "Why haven't the Sepi's attacked yet?"
"Sepcomms have tried at higher altitudes but we've put screens high and low. Spread us all out some. Them stealth fighters show up real nice on our radars once they hit forty miles." Talon leader said. "but that only works on our fighter radars."
Corvax didn't need to understand that the tactical situation for defence wasn't good. True they could pick up the limited enemy stealth fighters at ranges of forty miles with a fighter based radar, but that meant that their biggest advantage of a Big Bulge radar was greatly reduced. Chancing on something like that didn't happen often this early in any campaign.
"Are we going to head in soon?"
"Watchtower has us waiting for something. It better hurry, a few of us are practically bingo here." Dagger groused. Corvax could understand that. He'd arrived into this zone with full tanks, some of these had been aloft for four hours and had to be at the edge of their time.
"Look, there they go again." Rogue two said as another dozen fighters, this time from above feinted sixty miles toward the enemy and broke off abruptly-
"Trumpeter, trumpeter, trumpeter – enemy tankers have been tagged. Blue group, make your run straight down the middle. Red group you're above four thousand and behind." Lookout said suddenly. "Blue: count to twenty and break off. Red: you're going in all the way. Splash me some fuellers."
"Fuckin' A, it's about time." Dagger led growled. Corvax could agree with him. It was a clever idea. The Sepi air force used very similar tactics to the OAG, mainly from copying them, and therefore would expect them to attack the AWACs craft immediately. All those defences converged around it, attacks against it even in a stealth fighter like his, the Dagger variant of the Broadswoard was completely useless. Now Corvax understood the business about these feints. A dozen fighters would streak forward and blast them with their forward radars, waiting to detect tracks that were too big to be fighters and too slow to be an AWACs controller. Fuel tankers for hungry fighters.
"Rogues, we're going in, take her up ten thousand feet and keep your radars off. On me."
"Two.""Three.""Four."
Twenty-eight fighters climbed up into the clouds while another two dozen fighters, Sabres raced forward from below. New figures began becoming tagged and outlined in red in Corvax's HUD and when they flashed yellow, they became priority targets as directed by the crosscom controller in the AWACs.
Blue group broke off of their feint down below but Corvax and red group's twenty-eight stealth fighters continued on course. Corvax wondered if the same problems the Sepi's had with fighter radars would repeat on the Dagger. It wouldn't be pleasant getting caught in the hornets' nest here.
"Looks like a full group of tankers. Sixteen of them." Dagger said.
"Escorts?" Talon asked.
"No visual yet."
"We'll take the ones on the far right," Corvax said. "You guys go middle and left?"
"Sounds good Rogue. Good hunting."
"Rogue, come right two eight zero and hold steady."
"Two.""Three."Four."
As they began to close with the enemy, the tag outlines became clearer and clearer. More fighters became tagged on Corvax's HUD so that what looked like eight hundred planes really was many, many more. The enemy jamming had only been partially successful to the powerful Orionian built radars but it was still formidable enough to blot out some of the craft behind them. Corvax didn't even know if Watchtower would be able to hear him this close to the enemy "lines."
"About sixty miles to target." Rogue three reminded them. "Time on target, one mike."
"Let's get them at twenty miles so we make sure they don't get away." Rogue four said.
"Good idea, we do one each and break off. Ignore the escorts." Corvax said.
"WILCO." The others replied. Apparently, another feint had been launched because another dozen fighters that hadn't been there before became tagged, along with another tanker. Jesus there were a lot of these fighters over such a confined air space. It was like watching swarms of bees go at it.
"Lead, I think we've got company. Looks like a full dozen coming below and behind." Rogue two said urgently.
"Go loud." Corvax said and he flipped on his air search radar and opened his missile bay to reveal an AIM-303 Quarrel which screeched with a solid lock on his target. The tanker's bulk at a distance was cleverly jammed and now with Corvax's radar activated at such close proximity, another eight fighters were immediately tagged. Four of them trailed behind the tanker at a leisurely pace – they were refuelling –
"Good tone, Fox three!" Corvax shouted and squeezed the trigger, then shut his missile bay door and kept his radar trained. The AIM-303, with all its advanced tracking capabilities, still needed to be directed by his own radar, it wasn't a fire and forget seeker like the Joint Strike Munition. It took until twenty miles to lock on and with eight other targets in such close proximity, Corvax might have the missile hit the wrong target –
The missile leaped off of its railings and burst in white exhaust flame as it shot forward, searing red in Corvax's eyelids as he closed them to protect from the flash –
The other eight fighters immediately scrambled to action, breaking off of their escort patterns and flipping on their radars as the tanker called that it had taken a radar lock and incoming missile. Two of the Vulture droids it had been refuelling immediately broke off without waiting for proper fuel shut off, and the tanker began trailing fluid from two lines. The other two were slower off the mark and were still connected to the tanker when the missile struck-
Corvax had immediately yanked hard on the stick to climb up and away from the squadron at his six which was seeking locks on his tiny radar signature. The way his top was positioned he would give a decent radar return but that would change in the space of half a second because the thrust vectoring system tightened his turn so that he was facing directly toward the enemy and he disappeared from radar. They were coming in close, almost in gun range –
"Tallyho! Guns guns guns-"
-The Quarrel hit the tanker dead centre – there was no escape for a craft that was already struggling to keep aloft. The explosion ignited the fuel lines and fire trailed onto two Vulture droids which were refuelling. A massive fireball engulfed all three fighters and a third which could have gotten off clean was heavily damaged. The other four fighters were almost out of fuel, they couldn't pursue the Dagger which had swatted their lifeline so carelessly out of the air. They immediately turned and headed for land, guided by their AWACs controller so that hopefully they could crash somewhere safe. Ten tankers suffered similar fates around the Sepi air force destroying another sixteen aircraft and preventing dozens more from refuelling.
Angry for the losses, the Sepcomm AWACS planes began directing fighters on retribution hunts for the O.A.G. stealth fighters which had so boldly attacked them-
The O.A.G. AWACS craft noted immediately the shift in the enemy force as their centre line milled and turned to the rear to search for needles in the haystack. The AWACS began sounding off that the enemy was vulnerable and committed the entire O.A.G. air group to the attack. The group commanders responded eagerly –
"…Say again all fighters: weapons free weapons free on all bandits angels twenty at two seven zero"
"Good tone Good tone, Fox three Fox three!"
Five hundred radar guided missiles, locked in with the AWACs computer systems, rippled toward the Chicomm aerial lines. The Clankers responded with a volley of their own, but only had two hundred fighters quick enough to respond. What occurred now was a race for time. The Orionian built Quarrels and AMRAMs flew at Mach 8 speeds and were computer linked by their AWACs controllers. The CIS missiles were much slower and required the droids to keep their noses pointed toward their targets.
The results on the droids were devastating. The droids, unable to turn evasively because they were pointing their radars, took the full force of the missile volley which obliterated almost three quarters of their number in an instant. The droid missiles which suddenly lost guidance from their own radars went into automatic tracker mode and homed in on the return signals of the remaining Sepi radars. A two dozen Orionian fighters were dismayed to discover they had a hundred missiles locked on. They all dove for the sea spewing flares behind them but there were too many missiles. Eight ejected safely, the rest were disintegrated in fireballs.
The remaining Vulture droids – screamed at by their AWACS controllers – turned to orient at the O.A.G. fighters who had already fired a second volley and were readying a third. Without proper locks, many Sepcomms were able to disengage and begin evasive manoeuvres – coached by their AWACs craft and planet borne radars – many were successful although the occasional missile was able to break through combined decoys and jamming. But the radical evasive manoeuvres had put a strain on their engines and as a group they all turned and ran to refuel. The remaining Vulture droids fighter compliment of 600 didn't notice 28 black shapes slip between their lines and head towards the Orionian carriers. Red group had their running lights turned off and their speed very slow so as to not create an orange trail in space. Corvax wondered if the fighters he had killed with the tanker would count? He'd have to bring that up with the CAG to discover and then the red paint could be applied to bring his score up to Ace.
2623 12th January Earth Standard Calendar, 2d Lt Fae Ming, 217th Naval Air Squadron, Raxus
There were thirty fighters stacked up in this raid, Republic Y-Wings loaded with old Rockeye clustermunitions supported by Sabres of the Orionian Fleet Air Arm at sixty thousand feet and Fae's Angels as a covering overflight.
They cruised at eighty thousand feet, where the cloud cover was thick on this already cloudy day. Constant air raids were part of the main strategy. They were supposed to whittle down the Separatist defences as much as they could. The barrier combat air patrol Faeusually flew was where most of the air efforts were directed, they bombers and ground attack needed to be protected so hey could achieve their objectives.
A keening whine/roar filled Faeears and she scanned the sky for the sound-a grey shape flashed below. A Sepi Anti-ship planet based missile off to kill another target. Shit.
"Time on target, six mikes." Tailor lead, the Australian squadron commander, told everyone.
"Yellow group, Mastermind, ground targets are being uploaded to your HUD now. Designating Killbox one alpha to six delta at grid four eight niner niner. How copy?"
"Solid copy Mastermind." Tailor lead responded.
"Eyes open Angels." Faeadded to her four Sabres. She was getting tired. The last bit of action she and her Sabres had seen was the air engagement over by one of the moons of Raxus. For some reason on all the combat patrols Fae didn't fly there was some sort of air engagement, Faereally wanted that double ace insignia painted under the cockpit of her fighter.
"Yellow group, you are weapons free at this time. Execute your TAC."
"WILCO. Roughhouse, Badger, Rhino-" Tailor lead didn't get to say anything after that. Six missiles streaked in and blotted six fighters out of the sky, including Tailor lead. What? Where did they come from? Fae immediately hit the burners and climbed for altitude, inverting so that her cockpit was facing the ground to give her a better image-
There, a black fighter, almost like a kite, darted down, making a gun pass on an F-2 Vulture who was just beginning to make an evasive turn. Tracers stitched across the right wing, sawing it off and throwing the F-2 Vulture into an uncontrolled spin, Fae hauled on the stick and cut her throttle to tighten her turn.
The Sepi Varsity had finally come out to play. Fae set everything aside in her mind and turned to pursue.
"Angels, weapons free! Call them Foxtrot-20s!"
"I can't see them lead, there's too much cloud cover-"
"Three o'clock low Ducky, I'm going to pin him against the ground – "
"Hang on, watch your blind side-"
The F-2 Fae was following made a sudden turn to the right that Fae had to roll to follow. For a clanker piece of shit this thing was nimble, light on the stick and it accelerated well. Fae didn't know all the capabilities of her adversary but the one advantage she had was that her target probably didn't know Fae was behind it, its evasive pattern seemed choreographed, it was too smooth. They weren't showing up on Fae's HUD which eliminated one of her advantages, the radar absorbent material on the F-2 was repelling all attempts for Fae to get even the slightest lock, it would have to be cannon. She only had two thousand rounds in it though enough for a thirty second burst. She'd have to be tight.
The fighter snapped to port and down suddenly, Fae easily matched the manoeuvre, the F-2 was making another gun pass on the fighter formation which was now scrambling to manoeuvre, the F-2s jetted towards their target, even laden down with bombs they were trying to deal damage. The Stealth Vulture angled down on a pair. Fae had just lined up her sight when the fighter climbed and hit the brakes suddenly falling behind Fae who instinctively dove under the sheet of fighter.
Someone else had alerted the droid, that meant there was another fighter- red tracers shaved past her left side, Fae snap rolled up and alternated the rudders and vectored her thrust to angle on the F-2 that had taken the deflection shot on her, she was five hundred yards in front, Fae tore off in hot pursuit, flipping the sidewinders to home in on the bright infrared trail of the droid's afterburner. She brought the HUD reticule on the fighter and flipped open one of her missile bay doors as the F-2 tore left dashing into the clouds to obscure Fae's vision, but the infrared seeker screeched a good tone-
"Fox two!" Fae barked automatically as she squeezed the trigger and shut her missile bay as she received a warning that someone was trying for a radar lock on her. The clouds burst into white –decoy flares which might distract the missile but had given away the fighter's position, Fae climbed and was out of cloud cover just behind the droid who was inverting almost lazily to dive back down. The sidewinder was nowhere to be seen, but that didn't matter. Fae ruddered right and squeezed the trigger for her Vulcan cannon. A full second burst went straight up the afterburners and turned the multimillion credit aircraft into an expensive fireball. Fae hauled the stick and caught a flash of two other black shapes darting after her.
"I've got two on my tail."
"Coming right under you lead, I'm right behind them." Angel two said.
"Roger!" Fae dove into the clouds and obscured herself in grey mist again and began a loop to the left, she scanned the skies and saw the blue outline of Angel two's Sabre.
Fae checked her rear-view and saw the clearly lined path but no bandits behind her. They would have to return to attack the other fighters and bombers soon, otherwise they would drop their payloads and become fighters to join this hunt. Fae spotted the air formation which had been savaged and was now spread out. Three hit burners to begin their attack run, Fae ducked under the cloud cover just in time to see a missile trail lash out at the trio. They dropped flares and chaff, decoying the missile successfully but the F-2 gave away its position which Fae prosecuted by arming her remaining sidewinder and achieving a lock. The fighter was so close the lock came almost instantly and after she fired, there was no chance for decoy and evasion. The fighter missile struck it on its spine, snapping the fighter in two, Fae saw the droid explode. She inverted and searched for another black shape, launch warning screeched and she saw a pair of black trails rise up from the ground so she dropped flares and turned. One of those missiles was bigger, a SAM launcher tracking someone's radar, the other was smaller faster – fighter based. The F-2 wove between a pair Sabres on their attack runs and went in guns blazing.
Fae felt her fighter rock under a single impact.
"I'm hit! I'm hit!" Fae looked to the right and saw that her wingtip had taken a single round, it was a scratch really but that would screw up her stealth signature, she was vulnerable now. Her HUD began warbling as several radars were turned on Fae. Fae climbed and hit the burners going up and away.
"Master, Angel Lead, I'm RTB. I'm useless here."
"Solid Copy, Angel lead head one eight zero and boogie out of there. I've got a covering flight heading down that vector."
Fae turned and ran for the first time in her life. But he had taken a pair of kills, that was something she could feel proud of.
2623 12th January Earth Standard Calendar, Cpt Portman, O.A.S. Cole, Raxus System
TO: ACTUAL OAN-791
FROM: COMSUBEA
ENCRYPTION FEED:****
DECRYPTION KEY: **********
EQT SADOP X
"About time." Captain Portman set down the sheet of paper and nodded to the XO. "Battle stations, set for condition red."
Around the Prowler, the electronic bell rang and crewmen raced to their stations the hull clamoured with boots ringing on metal. It wouldn't matter how loud they were, unless someone dropped a wrench or something, the interior of OAS Oregon was soundproofed muffled and soundproofed again with a separate layer.
"I'll take the Conn." Portman told the XO who nodded and stood aside. Portman set his hands behind his back and cleared his throat.
"Sonar, re-evaluate Yankee one and two."
"Both are idling at zero one eight Captain." The response came over the intercom. "estimate range for six thousand meters.
"Crew, my intention is to now fire two units, one at each of our targets. Weapons, load torpedoes in tubes one and two, full weapons safeties and set for low velocity."
"Aye sir." The call came down the hall as the order was relayed to the torpedo room at the fore of Oregon. "Units loaded, full safeties."
"Vent the tubes and open outer doors. Set the units on bearing zero three zero, trail them for five thousand and then turn to Yankee one and Yankee two and increase speed on my direction."
"Firing solution! Unit one set to Yankee one, unit two set to Yankee two. Fire sequence one and two, tubes ready in all respects Skipper!"
Captain Portman waited three beats of his heart and let out a breath. Here was his first war shots.
"Match generated bearings and shoot!"
"Fire one, fire two!" the Principle Weapons officer keyed the firing switches and a squelch ran through the sub as compressed air jetted the two torpedoes at their slowest – and therefore quietest – velocity. The Mark 84 ADCAP that the Navy still used had a silent running speed of forty knots. Once it closed the distance, you couldn't run from a torpedo.
Captain Portman was shooting away from the CIS, he took his steps away from the attack centre and into the Sonar station where a crewman handed him earphones so he could jack in and watch the monitor.
"Watch the blue traces sir." Yesti said and pointed at a pair of blue lines that were heading just off to the right of the red contacts designated Yankee one and two – a surviving CIS missile cruiser and her frigate escort.
"There's the turn." Yesti pointed as the torpedoes changed direction. Portman stood up and keyed the intercom.
"Increase torpedoes to full velocity."
"Aye captain, units one and two making turns for forty knots." PWO responded-
"There they go! They heard them!" Yesti said as the CIS ships were increasing their engine counts to pick up speed. It was too late, six thousand meters at a broadside wouldn't be enough to get away-
"Torpedo inbound! Torpedo inbound bearing one eight zero heading…heading down the bearing of our units captain. Automatic pinging has not acquired." Yesti breathed a sigh of relief. It was a good tactic, shoot off a torpedo on the same bearing it was coming from. But that was why Portman had ordered his units to turn, so that they would be safely out of the way when the Sepcomms did make their counterattack.
"That's a noisemaker." Yesti pointed out for the younger rating as a bright spoke appeared on the monitor blurring the outline of Yankee one, but Portman's torpedoes were still running on wire, passive sonars and therefore wouldn't be fooled by the use of decoys like that- two bright spokes appeared on the yankee one and yankee two contacts where the blue torpedo traces intersected.
"Hull break up noises!" Yesti clapped his hands and smiled. "Splash one and two."
Two starships dead, two kills in Portman's first war. Not a bad day at all.
2623 12th January Earth Standard Calendar, Lt Thaddeus Mires, 677th Naval Air Squadron, Raxus System
Another set of fighters were shooting off now, Mires was not among them. He breathed a sigh of relief as he watched on the deck as 200 attack aircraft lifted off from the Orionian fleet to go strike at more ground targets.
Mires shook his head and headed down deck. Interceptor pilots like Mires were more important than ever now that the enemy could shoot an anti-ship missile thousands of miles away and then just bolt back home. Things were much different in the modern wage where stealth kings ruled the skies and the skies were now among the most important theatre of war. He was just heading down to go get changed when the alarm sounded.
"Action stations Action stations, set condition one throughout the ship, this is not a drill say again this is not a drill. Heavy Big bulge jamming at two seven zero-"
Mires bolted to the ready room where his mask, gloves and G suit would be waiting. He couldn't help his hands from shaking as he pulled them on.
2623 12th January Earth Standard Calendar, Admiral Mahan, O.A.S. Liberty, Raxus System
"We have burn through! Multiple bandits at two seven zero, count them eighty plus at angels thirty. Designating raid one."
"Shoot off the plus five fighters and unmask all batteries. Weapons free." Admiral Mahan ordered and felt the ship bank starboard as it began to turn to bring its length on the enemy who would be launching missiles soon. He heard the magnetic launchers screech as a pair of fighters roared off the deck and into the air.
"Turn our strike around get them back here." Mahan ordered as he strode over to the holographic tactical display. The blue globe displaying the entire battle zone flashed several red V's at the edge of radar range, eating up the distance, and Mahan's own fighters turning to orient themselves at the inbound threats. The V's materialized into distinct shapes in front of Mahan's eyes as the computer matched their radar shapes with their fighter class.
"Vultures." The Executive officer noted. "If they're carrying their best anti-ship weapons they'll be sitting ducks to our fighters. They're heavy sons of bitches."
"What's the range on that?" A rating working the radar station broke discipline and asked. Mahan didn't mind.
"Sixty thousand miles." Mahan said grimly, "Rate of closure?"
"They can shoot at maximum range in two minutes sir."
"New radar tracks! Incomings bearing two eight niner counting sixty plus at angels ten designating raid two-Vampire Vampire! Raid two composed of missiles! Tally sixty!"
"I was wondering when they would bring those into play." Mahan groused. The CIS had spent lots of money on a very special planet based missile, it was a high orbit missile with an impressive range. It was supposed to be a dreadnaught killer. "Fleet is released for defensive manoeuvring, link counter missile fire control to OAS Bunker Hill and OAS Inuit, keep our boys on raid one."
Mahan could only stand here and watch now, the rest was up to the individual captains, pilots and sailors as the radiomen relayed their orders to the different ships who were now beginning to spread out from their usual station keeping formations to prepare for evasive manoeuvring. The E-72 Eagle-eye AWACS craft aloft in combination with carrier towers vectored their fighters in toward the CIS in a race for time, which would get into firing position first, the Orionians or the Separatists?
"Ten seconds to firing position." The Electronics warfare officer said as he began cracking his knuckles in anticipation for jamming. The AWACS commanders were smart, they vectored their fastest fighters, a dozen Sabres, straight for the enemy radar craft but that wouldn't help the ships much. The OAG fighters managed to reach their position first and launched missiles at maximum range, coordinated by the AWACS craft. The CIS were just beginning to get radar locks and twenty managed to launch a single missile successfully, but the other sixty fighters were blotted out of the sky, it was only unfortunate chance that had the Orionians in a superior firing position. The Vampire call went out again as twenty anti-ship missiles joined the first sixty.
The first shrieking missiles began launching in what appeared on the decks to be curtains of flame. They were counter-missiles fired off the Aegis XI blocks loaded onto the Anti Air cruisers of the OAN fleet and the many anti air destroyers that were found dispersed amongst the fleet. Much like the way the Broadsword could link computer systems and direct missile fire with a bomber converted as a missile sled, the missile cruisers could do the same, targeting a sixty thousand mile basket that was computed to factor in both sides missiles rate of closure and altitudes.
Swarms of missiles collided in the night booming out over the void of space. Twelve made it through and were then targeted by the point defence systems of the fleet, aging 40mm PDL guns and the newer chain guns added on frigates and destroyers. Red and yellow tracers licked out at twenty miles to the missiles as they nosed down to begin their Mach 6 dives and lock onto their individual targets. Chaff and flares rocketed up simultaneously in an attempt to obscure the CIS missile's view but their warhead brains were smart and saw through it. Jamming saw to eight of them. The remaining four struck four ships. None of them were carriers.
Mahan couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief as he saw that none of the missiles were locked onto his ship.
"Begin rescue operations and bring our bombers home." Mahan ordered as he noted that OAS Brisbane was one of those hit but from what her Captain was reporting the damage was only minor.
"Let's get the next punch in. And prepare ground troops for orbital assault."
25031 Galactic Standard Calendar, Corporal Elayne Sulvan, 22nd CIS Infantry Division, Raxulon Market District
"Incoming!" Someone screamed as Elayne dove yet again for cover. This time behind a collapsed pillar. The rocket slammed into the supporting AAT tank sending it's turret into the air with a ball of flame. Three hours ago contact with the fleet had been lost, two hours ago military and defence instillations and bases had gone dark. An hour and a half ago Orionians had shown up everywhere and attacked the Separatist capital at the worst possible time for the CIS. There was a big parliamentary meeting as well as a joint military meeting meaning the top tier of the Separatists military and government were now trapped in the city. Elayne grabbed private Matare and pulled him to his feet. He was covered in and coughing up dust.
Two plasma rounds struck above her head against the stone wall of a storefront as she covered the retreat of her surviving squad. She had been part of a company that had been guarding an army Comm station a few blocks south. But they had been overrun in a matter of minutes by the Orionian ODSTs and her squad, now consisting of her Matare and two other privates, were the only one to make it out.
"Through here! Come on!" Bejo called crouching in a firing position behind a door that led out the back of the store into the alleyway. She turned and ran behind Matare as they both dashed for the temporary safety of the alley.
Passing through the door she noticed a wall blocked any escape left and to the right was a series of trash bins and litter leading to another road twenty metres away. Taking up a position behind a trash bin she waited as her fellow band of survivors came through the door themselves. The Orioinas plasma impacting the wall opposite the door in the alley.
"Where now?" Asked Matare, still firing at the Orionians.
"Down towards the street then head towards the Senate Building. Hopefully we can link up with any reaming units." She declared, confidence still present in her voice despite their situation. Before they could move she saw a friendly AAT and some support droids reversing down the street at the end of the alley firing at some unseen attackers. Something struck the tank and it's rear exploded outwards as a shell from an Orionian tank likely impacted it.
"That way's no longer safe." Commentated one of the surviving privates with a panicked edge.
"Thank you for that astute observation private." She snapped at him. She looked down the alley for any escape routes. There were no fire escapes accessible and the wall behind was part of a multi-storey building. They would've been trapped if not for a manhole cover mid-way down the alley, nearly obscured by some bloated bin bags. It would be smelly, unpleasant and unhygienic but it offered a way out.
"Everyone, down into the sewers." She dashed forward and quickly threw the trash bags covering the manhole to the side. Gripping the two handholds available of the manhole's surface she heaved it off and placed it to the side.
"Are you sure about this Corporal." One of the privates said, apprehensive about entering a sewer.
"You're free to take your chances with the Orionians if you don't want to follow." She spoke as she slung her carbine over her shoulder and begun to clamber down the railings on the wall, Matare soon behind her. The further she descended the stronger the foul stench of the sewer grew. She found herself wanting to gag with each breath she took.
Her foot finally made contact with the walkway that ran parallel on each side of the sewer. She reached up and pressed the small button on her helmet mounted flashlight. The bright beam light up the sewer tunnel ahead of her. Small plants, mosses and mould covered parts of the sewers surface particularly near the water line and in the cracks on the floor and walls. The sewage looked as pleasant as she expected, refuse, litter and other unknowns drifted in a thick sludge that seemed to ooze rather than flow by.
The ray of light from above vanished as the manhole was placed back over and the two green privates scrambled down the rail ladder. They had recently been drafted in a move to make more droids available for frontline fighting rather than garrisoning CIS worlds. They had arrived that morning and she hadn't yet been able to learn their names. Others like herself and Matare had been enlisted since the war began but had experienced as much combat as the draftees.
"Where to now?" Asked Matare.
"We continue in the direction of Parliament. Hopefully we can avoid most if not all Orionian forces this way." She took point as they headed off into the sewers heading in an easterly direction.
Half an hour of walking through the putrid sewers yielded little pleasantness, as she had hoped they hadn't run into any Orionians down below, but they had nothing but guesses and estimates as to where they were or where the front lines had moved to. They approached another turn, were a maintenance room was located and they could escape the smell for a while, while possibly establishing contact with command. Before she reached the entrance. A Dozen soldiers appeared from concealed positions aiming their weapons at herself and her squad of survivors.
"Identify yourselves!" A voice from one of the soldiers called out, the flashlight from his weapon blinding her, making her raise one hand to cover her eyes.
"Corporal Elyane Sulvan 22nd Infantry Division, 'Loyals' Regiment. My ID card is in my back pocket." The soldier she was speaking to signalled another to check what she had said. The soldier moved towards her, weapon still trained on her. He stopped right in front of and motioned for her to show him the ID card.
Making slow and careful movements to make herself appear non-hostile she pulled the card from her pocket and held it infront of her. The man took it from her and inspected the card, from the photo ID to the other details.
"She's clear." He announced as he then moved on to the others with her. Once satisfied they weren't Orionians they lowered their weapons.
"Sargent Boltha, Glad to see someone else is still alive in this mess." The Soldier who'd spoke initially told her.
"Likewise sir, any idea what's happening topside?" She inquired.
"We've deciphered some garbled transmissions from friendly forces. West and Southern sides of the City have fallen to the Orionians. We've held onto the west and the North and central city is still contested. We are unable to establish communications to any Airfields, Spaceports, bases and settlements outside the City, but we assume they're also under attack. Lieutenant Giles is inside with the wounded, he'll have more information as well as orders."
"Yes Sir. Thank you, sir." She replied grateful for the brief update. She waved for her squad to follow her as the other soldiers and Sargent Boltha resumed their previous positions. Opening the Sewer Maintenance room, she was greeted by the grim sight of over two dozen wounded, three dead and two medics rushing about trying to help as many of the wounded as they could. The wounded showed classic Orionian inflicted wounds. First to third degree burns covered areas of flesh unluckily enough to be hit, melting through the tissue, muscle and even bones leaving its victim in agonising pain. Their cries of pain permeating the room.
In the corner of the room where a bunch electronic equipment was a small CP had been established where the Lieutenant and a radioman were standing talking in hushed voices. She made her way over to them and introduced herself.
"Corporal Sulvan Twenty-Second Infantry reporting sir." She barked out, straightening her posture. The Lieutenant turned to face her, he had a young face with ash and soot covering his face and attire.
"Lieutenant Valen, First Raxus Guards Division. I assume you want at situation update?"
"Yes Sir."
"It's not looking good. The Orionians have overrun most the nearby military bases and airfields. They also control half the city. Their blockade is preventing the evacuation of our generals and senators. To make matters worse we are unable to request aid from nearby systems as the planetary comms are being blocked. The good news is that we've established a defensive line linking our positions in the city centred around the Senate building. We're holding for now but sooner or later something will give. We lack the manpower to hold the city."
"So where are we needed." She asked. She didn't like the idea of the Orionains taking her home world and home city, especially without a fight.
"If you continue the way you were headed but on the other side you'll have a direct route to the senate. Meet up there with Commander Athra, he'll direct you to where your needed most. Dismissed."
She snapped him another salute and headed over to her squad that was standing to the side of the door.
"Come on, let's get back top side. We're still needed."
2623 12th January Earth Standard Calendar, Lt Luke [Sparrow] Greyman, Taskforce 242, Raxulon
The sewer was light in a green hue as his helmet's visor revealed his path. While his helmet had external lights activating them may give him away. His near silent footsteps reverberating off the sewer walls. An achievement considering the metal armour that covered his entire body. The power armour he wore was one of a batch of newly made exclusives. Using the Mandalorian super metal Beskar'gam. This increased the armour's all-round performance to the point it could deflect lightsabre's. Unlike other Orionian armour the CENTURIAN power armour covered the entire body, similar to the Mandalorian and Clone armour. It was the replacement to the older MJOLNIR armour system.
With reinforced armour plates, an emphasis on energy absorption and dispersion, and a portable shield generator. The latest most advanced tech in the most advanced armour ever produced by Earth. And he was the first to field test it, and alone until he met up with a Republic LRRP team already inside the CIS Senate Building perimeter. He was approaching the maintenance room he was supposed to pass through to reach direct route to the Senate building. He was thankful for his helmet's air filtering system and air-tightness. It meant he didn't have to deal with the smell.
He noticed on his HUD heart beat sensor that there was a cluster of pings up ahead. He paused, the armour's dull colours blending into the low light of the sewer. Using the neural link in the back of his neck, which still ached with a constant low throb since the removal of his inhibiter chip, he activated the short range comm jammer, preventing any calls for aid or warnings. He unclipped a smoke grenade from his armour's webbing. Pulling the pin and allowing the smoke to exit for a moment before throwing down the sewer to where the contacts were. He repeated the process for another smoke grenade. He allowed the smoke the smother every corner of the sewer he needed it to. Then he moved.
His HUD switched to infer-red, he could see the CIS soldiers coughing and spluttering in the thick smoke. Slinging his rifle over his back, he heard the mag clamps lock into place and moved to his kukri. The first man went down with a kukri to the jugular, the second with two intrusions to the gut. The remainder offered little resistance and met the same fate as each other. Quick and quiet, just as he'd been trained. The neural link between his head and the armour allowed it to move as fluidly as he did. The engagement outside the sewer maintenance room lasted less than a minute from when the smoke grenades went off to when the last CIS soldier, a Sargent, fell into the sewage his neck slit.
He spied the door which he was meant to pass through. He tried the handle, but the door wouldn't budge. Luke decided to forgo using explosives, he might need them later. Instead he took a pace backwards and then violently kicked the door near the lock mechanism. The steel door let out a reverberating heavy clang, but it held. He kicked it again. Another heavy clang. He kicked it a third time and the door flew off it's hinges. He heard a scream from inside as he stepped through. He spotted the source of the scream as a man who had his legs crushed beneath it. His shields flared up, an electric blue glow surrounded his body as it absorbed the blaster bolts.
He turned his head to look at the source a CIS captain who had his pistol drawn, the rest were wounded men and women and two doctors. In a flash his pistol had been drawn and discharged into the Captain's head. He put another two rounds into one of the medics who went for a gun. The rest looked frozen in terror, gazing at the seven-foot armoured figure. It saddened him what had to come next, but ONI wanted discretion, which translated to no witnesses, most the men were in no condition to fight, let alone move. There was no honour or dignity in this, but he had no choice. Moving over to the opposite door he unclasped a grenade. Opening the door, he stepped through, leaving the live grenade and the desperate yells of the wounded behind. May God forgive him.
25031 Galactic Standard Calendar, Corporal Elayne Sulvan, 22nd CIS Infantry Division, Raxulon Senate Plaza
Artillery shells kept impacting around them as Elayne dashed or the hastily constructed command post in a shelled-out store just outside the Senate building itself. The plaza was littered with blood and debris, a layer of dust seemed to be ever present in the air. In the buildings around the plaza groups of men were huddled hoping to avoid shells while other structures contained stores and ammunition. Anyone like her moving out in the open moved low and fast. Overhead she caught the last moments of a smoking Vulture droid as it spiralled into one of the Parliament building's spires.
She was ten meters from the CP when she felt herself lifted off the ground by some invisible force and sent flying in the direction she was headed. She landed like a ragdoll with a slight ringing in her ears. She lay on the ground in a slight daze with the rhythmic thump of artillery being all she could hear. She felt a hand grab her flak vest and pull her to her feet whilst dragging her inside.
"Look at me, you all right." She nodded in response.
"No sign of concussion," The young man spoke, looking for any of the tale tell signs, "Good. What do you need soldier?"
"Orders Sir, me and three others, survivors from Comm station Bantha, we heard you were holding out here and came to lend a hand."
"I appreciate that. Orionians are making a large push to our Western flank. But our eastern flank has some holes in it that could be infiltrated. Report to Captain Verox. She'll know better than I where you're needed over there. You can take a shortcut through the Parliament building. Take the elevator to the fiftieth floor and head towards the lounge, that's where Verox has established herself."
"Sir." She prepared herself by taking a few quick deep breaths before braving the artillery storm outside to make it back to the others who were waiting in the Parliament grand entrance. She managed the two hundred meter dash without incident bar a few pieces of shrapnel impacting her helmet and flak vest.
"So what are the orders then?" Matare asked falling in behind her as she continued past them.
"We're supporting the eastern flank. We have to stop by Captain Verox first though." She spoke simply. Entering one of the large elevators in the main foyer that would take them to the fiftieth floor. The door opened with a slight ding to signal their arrival. Walking out and looking out the windows that lined the floor all that greeted them was a view of a city, one that had smoke rising into the air, parts of skyscrapers missing and Orionian aircraft flying overhead. In the distance Elayne thought she could see a Republic Acclimator landing.
She hated it, their brave and valiant resistance was for nothing. All they had wanted was to be free of the stifling and corrupt Republic bureaucracy. It was the reason they had seceded. All it had resulted in was two years of painful unending retreat under the seemingly invincible and unstoppable Orionians. Now she was losing her planet, her city, her home. It wasn't fair. The Jedi and Orionians should have sided with them. Instead the Republic's web of lies had ensnared them and had them fighting for the wrong side.
She and her squad of three rounded a corner in to the corridor where some of the top CIS officials were being kept safe until they could be evacuated. That was the case until Elayne came face to face with the top military brass in cuffs with some key politicians being escorted by a dozen fancy looking clones and a massive well armoured droid looking thing. Both groups seemed to stop, the other's presence being unexpected. The seven-foot droid seemed to react first, firing at one of the privates who took several hits and fell to the floor.
"Scatter!" she ordered as she dived back into the corridor they had come from dragging private Eis with her. Matare had taken cover behind the opposite corridor. Fire from the clones and droid came down the corridor keeping them pinned.
"Continue with the mission. I'll deal with them." She heard distorted yet recognizably human voice say. She saw the volume of fire decrease and heard the sound of feet moving in the opposite direction.
"This is Corporal Elayne Sulvan. Hostiles have breached the perimeter and taken priority one personnel. We are on the fiftieth floor. Repeat we- shit grenade! Move!"
2623 12th January Earth Standard Calendar, Lt Luke Greyman, Taskforce 242, Separatist Senate building Raxulon
He was enjoying himself, more so than he should have. Alone and unlikely to receive support. Extraction unlikely and surrounded by enemies. He'd been trained for this as a child and later as a teenager. To finally use the training as it had been intended was proving to be exhilarating. Especially as he no longer had the pesky inhibitor chip anymore. Compared to how he moved now he had previously seemed clunky.
What had started as a simple snatch and grab had been botched when an unsuspecting CIS militia patrol had stumbled upon them. Unfortunately, two had gotten away, though one, a male, had been leaving a large trail of blood. They had radioed for support, not that it would help them. So, he had been encountering more and more CIS forces inside the building in a very lethal game of cat and mouse. Though which roll he and the Sepi's played seemed a little blurred.
The Republic LRRP teams he was working with to get the targets had signalled him that they had reached the extraction point on the roof, but that CIS AA fire was keeping their bird from reaching them. So, he had been assigned to keep the CIS forces in the building distracted until the LRRP teams could complete the mission. He didn't mind, it was fun to test his skills after so long.
He was currently passing through a large central chamber which had a statue of some kind at the centre of the ground floor. The militia woman from the encounter that botched the mission was proving impressively resilient and intelligent. She had worked out that she couldn't face him headed to head and that stealth and surprise were her friend. Taking him on conventionally was not going to work in such confined spaces. While she didn't have a high level of training she was proving better than most considering she was still alive. She was likely very lucky, unlike the poor sods behind him.
"Freeze! Don't move!" He turned to see five local militia aiming their pitiful weapons at him. How should he kill them? His rifle? Pistol? Combat Knife or maybe his fists? Ah, the choices.
"Surrender!" Now that was a funny joke. Fists it was he decided. He hadn't had much opportunity to practice CQC in the armour yet. Before the men could process what was happening he had covered the ground between them and delivered a lethal right hook to the closest militiaman. He felt bones give way under the force of his armoured fist as the man crumpled to the floor a few feet back wordlessly. His compatriots had looks of terror etched onto their faces.
He turned and sent the man beside him flying into the wall. The youngest of the men attacking him or rather attempting to survive him overcame his moment of terror to aim his weapon at Luke. Luke simply kicked the boys knee hearing a satisfying snap and cry of resulting pain. Grabbing the boy by his top front armoured vest he picked him up without much effort and threw him over the side railing. It was a what… thirty-floor drop. The last man tried to run, for all the good it would do him. Luke pulled out a blade her kept on his belt and threw it. The throwing knife penetrated the cheap helmet and entered the fleeing man's skull.
Luke heard a groan from the man who had been sent into the wall. A quick boot to the neck silenced him. ONI's orders still stood. His shields flickered prompting him to take cover behind a pillar that was more decoration than structural. Peaking round the side in time to see red blaster bolts impact the shields covering his helmet's vizor he leant back into cover. She had done good he noted. The Militiawoman was back and was two floors above him on the opposite side. It would be a shame to have to kill such a promising soldier but that was life in war. Too bad for her.
He broke from cover firing as he went. The Militiawoman ducked behind the cover she had. By the time he got to her position she would be gone. But it was no matter, either she would die, or should she prove lucky enough, she may just survive.
25031 Galactic Standard Calendar, Corporal Elayne Sulvan, 22nd CIS Infantry Division, Raxulon Senate building
Two plasma bolts slammed into the wall ahead of her as she dived round the corner to relative safety. She picked herself up again and continued her run. Behind her the purser was being delayed by three? No four people, judging by the sounds of Blaster fire. That would be her some time, but the thing was going to be done with them in seconds like it had with everything else it had encountered in the past half an hour.
Racing along the corridor she realised than she would never be able to outrun the creature, robot, thing. She needed to hide. At least for a while. Simply going for the nearest door, she pressed the light grey button on the side. It glowed red and let out a slight beep. Locked!
"Kriff!" She let out. She went along to the next door. She only got the same result. With increasing desperation, she went along the corridor doing the same with each door.
"Kriff! Come on! Why won't one of you work!" One the second last door of the corridor she heard the blaster fire subside from the direction she had come. This time the button lit up green and the door silently slid open. Rushing inside and mag-locking the door behind her. She sought refuge under the wooden desk in the centre of the room. On the other side was a window once again looking out into the city. The glass had been smashed and allowed a refreshing cool breeze laced with the putrid smell of smoke to wash over the room.
She panted as her body burned from the lactic acid build up from all her running. He body ached in protest to any further movements she tried to make since she had sat down, her muscles seizing up from the lack of movement.
Outside over the sound of her erratic breathing she could easily hear the heavy clanking foot steps of the massive armoured droid. Hopefully it would pass her by and she could escape. She clutched her blaster tighter all the same in spite of that thought. CLANG.
Wait, what's that sound. CLANG. It's coming from down the corridor. CLANG. What the kriff is making that sound. There was one last clang then a crashing sound and the sound of braking glass. There was a brief lull then more clanging followed by another crashing sound followed by the discharging of a weapon then, yet another silence descended.
She heard the footsteps pick up again and getting louder as it approached the room she had sought refuge in. Slow methodical heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor almost as if the droid was toying with her by announcing its presence to her deliberately. When the steps reached her door they stopped. For a few seconds she could only her the distant sounds of battle and her own decreasingly ragged breath.
CLANG. A large dent appeared in the door. CLANG. Another dent. She moved herself into a crouching position and readied her blaster while still taking shelter behind the desk. CLANG. Part of the door had been rent off, but it still remained attached.
"There it is! Blast it!" she heard from outside and blaster fire erupt. The droid was forced to respond to the more immediate of the threats and deal with those shooting at it, not that it would take long. Outside the window she managed to catch a glimpse of a friendly gunship fly by the window and turn to hover facing the corridor up ahead where the droid was fighting against whatever unlucky infantry that happened to be in its way.
It was very clear when the gunship engaged the droid by the sound of the missiles and gunfire it unleashed in close proximity to her. She only hoped that it would be enough.
"Attention all units in the Senate Parliament, there is a Republic or Orionian armoured droid currently running rampant inside. If possible, you are to lure it to the foyer where we have laid an ambush. Good luck." She heard over her radio. Letting out a frustrated sigh she realised than provided that the gunship didn't finish off the droid she would likely be the closest to it meaning she would be the first to have to lure it away. Why did this war have to be so unfair, at least the sound of the attacking gunship was moving further away.
2623 12th January Earth Standard Calendar, Lt Luke Greyman, Taskforce 242, Separatist Senate building Raxulon
Luke grinned as the droid gunship spiralled to the ground belching thick black smoke as it did. It had been hard trying to deal with it as he lacked any AT or AA weapons but the two high explosive grenades had proved adequate enough to take out the engines on its left portion.
"Vanguard, this is Echo team. Exfil is in ten. Make sure you are up here by that time or you will be left behind. Over."
"Copy that Echo team, I'll be there. Over."
"Understood, see you shortly Vanguard."
Honestly being left behind wasn't that much of a problem. He was originally trained for insurgency and guerrilla warfare by the Insurrection after all. Sure, ONI's standing orders of no witnesses would be difficult to complete but he could manage it, there was only one loose end left. That one woman who had seen him.
His shields flaring and the sound of a blaster alerted him to an attacker. Looking back up the corridor he spotted the same woman he had just been thinking about. She was just poking out from behind the wall. He could make out the urban combat BDU she was wearing as well as the basic CIS body armour she wore and the helmet that didn't offer that great protection to the head, leaving the lower half of her head from above the ears completely exposed.
Raising his own weapon, he fired upon her, but she ducked back around the corner. The small heartbeat sensor on the bottom left of his visor's holographic display told his she was running again. If she wanted to continue this game of cat and mouse, he would oblige but this would be where it ended for her. She had shown she was impressive at eluding him and fighting from a disadvantage, but her luck was about to run out.
He grinned as he took off after her. He'd kill her and then make his way to the roof. Easy.
25031 Galactic Standard Calendar, Corporal Elayne Sulvan, 22nd CIS Infantry Division, Raxulon Senate building
Just one more flight of stairs. Just one more. Then she would be in the foyer and have led the droid into the trap. She could even see the glass windows that looked out into the plaza. All she had left to do was make it down the flight of stairs that were in the centre of the foyer she would safe. She had radioed ahead to inform command of her progress, so they knew she was coming.
It had been close, but she had managed to stay ahead of the droid by using as many turns to her advantaged as she could to prevent it from being able to accelerate enough to catch her or draw a bead on her long enough for the droid to fire accurately. She was more thankful than ever to be the fastest in her unit.
She was nearly there just a couple more metres. Only a few seconds more of running.
She felt an unexpected and sudden painful searing sensation eating away at her right knee's posterior in particular but the entire area around it felt like it was melting. She screamed loudly in pain as she stumbled forward. She had been hit. The plasma used by the Orionians was different from that used by the rest of the civilised galaxy.
While the blaster weapons used by Republic and CIS would inflict damage the wound would immediately cauterize and the energy from the plasma bolt would do the internal damage. Orionian plasma conversely was more primitive by comparison, it would eat away at whatever surface it touched as it melted through said surface. Meaning it dealt more crippling damage. The Republic and CIS didn't use plasma like that because it was deemed unethical.
Never the less her luck turned out as she tumbled forward. Her fall had meant the subsequent shots had narrowly flown over her head, one connecting with her helmet but luckily not getting through. Her momentum carried her forward as she hit the ground and she began to roll. Unfortunately, her luck did not prevent her from falling down the last remaining staircase. Her whole body hurt from the tumble down the stairs, but nowhere more than her right knee from the plasma and her right ankle, which had likely been sprained from the fall.
She groaned as she lay on her back facing the high ceiling of the foyer. She wasn't sure what had casued more pain. The constant running, the gunshot wound or the fall down the stairs. She attempted to get up, managing to get so far as to beginning to stand, taking care to not place to much weight on her right ankle which flared up when she tried to stand on it. When she felt compelled to look behind her, up the stairs from where she fell. Time seemed to freeze as she took in the sight of the seven-foot armoured giant raising its rifle to aim at her. Her blood ran cold. She couldn't run, she couldn't access any nearby cover and her weapon had been dropped in her fall and was laying at the bottom of the stairs.
Her mind was racing a million miles an hour, trying, grasping at possible way she could escape. She could make out the minute movements as the finger on the rifle's trigger slowly began to press back. The droid's helmet… faceplate… looked up toward the glass entrance behind her. The droid's rifle lowered as it tried to leap to the side. Three tank rounds whistled over her head and impacted the top of the stairs, the droid disappearing in the dust and debris cloud that resulted as she was showered in bits of stone, wood and marble as she fell to the floor once more. A hail of blaster and heavy blaster fire as well as a few more tank rounds descended into the growing dust cloud as troops appeared in front of the tanks at the entrance of the foyer, around company strength.
Elayne meanwhile was curled up on the floor as pieces of the building bounced of her body armour and helmet. After about twenty or so seconds of deafening noise the blaster and canon fire subsided as the dust and smoke began to settle, the troops outside slightly lowered their blasters and began to enter the foyer where Elayne began to uncurl herself and look around at the now debris littered foyer.
"Anyone have eyes on that droid?" She heard someone, likely a captain or lieutenant call out. The CIS troops had made it about halfway into the foyer, three tanks still hovering just outside. For a moment, relative silence descended on the foyer.
"Are you alright?" A young man's voice came from behind her as she felt a hand on her shoulder rolling her over to face him.
"Yeah… yeah…. I'm fine. Though I think my ankle's sprained and knee's shot." Her voice shakily replied.
"I'll help you up and get you to the med-station." The young man said as he helped her up. Elayne was about to thank him for the assistance when the noise of metal dinking off the floor could be heard. Every head in the room turned to the source of the sound.
"GRENA-" The sound of a frag grenade detonating pierced the quiet of the foyer. The five men standing around it being cut up by the shrapnel, screaming as the multiple shards of metal cutting through armour and flesh. The sound of gunfire coming from the smoke and dust cloud alerted everyone to the droid's survival as three more comrades were cut down. The plasma from the droid's weapon illuminating the dust cloud each time the gun discharged. The remaining seventy-two men and women opened fire into the smoke and dust where the gunfire was originating from. The tanks opened up once again adding their contribution to gunfight with both the AAT's main canon and side mounted canons.
The droid burst from the dust cloud gun blazing and wisps of smoke trailing off its armour as it dashed towards the nearest cover, that being the pillars that made up the supports for the overhanging walkways, firing as it went. Elayne along with the young man supporting her weight hobbled towards the tanks and the exit while everyone engaged in the shootout. She glanced behind her towards the combat in time to see the droid cutting through the company of CIS soldiers as if they were nothing more than ants. All their training, all their equipment, everything. Meaningless in the face of this monster's unstoppable onslaught. The AAT tanks were unable to fire as the droid was among their own forces.
"Nearly at the door, come on. Nearly there." She heard the man supporting her mutter under his breath over and over as the continued towards the exit, ignoring the one-sided massacre behind them. One of the tank commanders must have had enough as the tank on the far right loosed off a shot at the droid. She wasn't entirely sure, but she was fairly certain a few of their own men were caught in the resulting blast.
"Nearly there. Nearly there. Nearly ther-aghhh!" The man next to her yelled as plasma impacted his back, only two meters from the exit. His sudden flailing movements from the plasma making the two of them loose their balance as his legs gave out, her own legs being unable to support her weight with the damaged knee and ankle. They both hit the floor uncomfortably, the body armour and its pouches digging into to her upon impact and her helmet smacking into the floor. She felt slightly dazed as her vision blackened around the edges for a moment.
An armoured foot appeared in front of her face before it disappeared. She turned her head to follow it to see the armoured droid moving at inhuman speeds, faster than any droid should be able to move. What even was this thing? She watched as it leapt onto one of the tanks while still being shot at by the dozen surviving infantry. The armoured giant clambered up to the commander's hatch and pulled the hatch clean off the tank, exposing the tank's commander. With a single arm the armoured giant threw the tank commander a good seven meters from the tank. The armoured giant then dropped a grenade into the tank before leaping off it. A loud thud sound could be heard before some smoke exited the AAT from its hatch-less turret.
Elayne watched as the armoured giant crouched after its leap as if to gain its bearings when she saw it take a direct hit from one of the two remaining tanks. After witnessing everything this… thing… had done and survived she didn't have much faith this ordeal was over. The armoured giant was sent flying back into one of the four large pillars outside the foyer entrance, chipping off some of the stone pillar. Its armour blackened. For a moment it didn't move, and many strange yellow electrical sparks could be seen fizzling around and dancing on the armour it was wearing. After a couple more seconds, those same electrical sparks seemed to solidify and form a protective shield around the armour.
She watched in horror as it got back up, albeit in a slow and dazed manner. The two AAT tanks turned their turrets to face it. The armoured giant sprang forth before either tank could fire a shot, covering the thirty-meter distance in a matter of seconds as a tank round flew by its head. Using the left AAT's side mounted canons to swing itself behind the tank, it reared a fist and smashed through the driver's door on the back of the tank after only five hits. This thing punched through a tank. How where the CIS even holding out if the Orionians had these things, it had to be the Orionians as she couldn't remember the Republic ever having anything that would be able to create this. It moved as fast and elegantly as a Jedi, hit stronger than any mere person could hope to. It could take a tank round centre mass and keep fighting. Cut through a reinforced rifle company with armoured support.
The Armoured giant was already on top of the next tank and about pull to the top hatch off like it had on the first tank. Elayne had managed to prop herself up on her elbows and holding the blaster her compatriot had dropped when he had been killed. She aimed at the armoured giant for all the good that might do and watched as its shield flared as some of the blaster bolts struck it. She heard a low thump noise followed by a projectile flying overhead towards the tank. One of the anti-tank rockets issued to each company's anti-tank detachment. The missile struck the tank with the armoured giant still on it. The missile penetrated the tank just below the turret. The armoured giant along with the turret were sent into the air by the concussive force of the missile and pressure escaping from the explosion in a small fireable. The top of the tank blew into many small little pieces of shrapnel and went everywhere, Elayne felt one hit her right arm, but she was too focused on the tank to really pay attention to it. The tank's hover generators sputtered before dying causing the tank to lose the foot of space between it and the ground.
She looked over to where the armoured giant had landed, it's shield must have overloaded again as the yellow sparks were back dancing all over the armour again. This was her chance. Its shield was down, likely disorientated, making it vulnerable. She raised her arms and aimed the SE-14 Blaster at armoured giant and fired at it. Only the blaster didn't fire. She looked down at the blaster in her hands. It didn't look defective. No obvious damaged appeared to have been sustained in the couple of seconds after the AAT exploded. She pulled the trigger again and still the blaster wouldn't fire. She looked at the trigger, maybe that was the defective and why the blaster wasn't working. Her right hand was still hanging loosely from the SE-14's grip. Wait, why would it be…. She looked down at her right arm. A jiggered piece of metal, shrapnel from the destroyed AAT tank lay imbedded in the ground just beyond where her elbow was, a large stain of crimson coating the side of it. The shrapnel had sheared the lower half of her arm off from below the elbow, the blood still spurting out in a mini fountain of gore.
Her breathing hitched, and she began to hyperventilate as her vision began to become fuzzy as she gazed at the bleeding stump that now made up the end of her right arm. An ear-piercing ringing overrode any other sounds as the shock of losing a limb set in. She almost didn't notice the armoured giant standing over her. She gazed up at its faceplate as another feeling set in. Fear. This terrifying giant was standing over her. Its body blackened and dented by the damage it had sustained casting a shadow over her, the sky-blue faceplate reflecting her face back at her. In some parts the dark grey with dark orange trim colour scheme of the armour could be made out.
She wondered what she looked like to this thing. Sprawled out on the ground with grime and sweat coating her face, the missing lower arm covering her legs in blood, the look of shock and terror etched on her face as she gazed up at what may very well be the last thing she ever saw. A massive armoured humanoid aiming its pistol at her head after exterminating everything that had gotten in its path. She pressed her eyes shut as she awaited the shot that would kill her. Unlike what the vids told you she didn't see her life flashing before her eyes, no vision of something or someone close to her. Just the blackness that came with having one's eyes closed.
Clunk. What? Clunk. Are those… footsteps…? Sure enough the thing was walking away. It was… sparing her? Why? After everything it had done. Pursue her relentlessly for over five minutes through the building. Cut throw a company of soldiers with tank support. Survive everything that had been thrown at it up to this point. And it was just walking away from her. She couldn't understand it. What was running through its brain or circuits? Why would it just walk away now? She was further surprised when a tourniquet landed at her feet, she had been too lost in her thoughts to notice the armoured giant reach and grab it before throwing it to her. She was so confused and terrified by the turn of events, but she wasn't about to look a gift Bantha in the mouth.
With her one remaining hand she picked up the tourniquet, it seemed the Orionians encouraged single arm use tourniquets, which enabled her to place and tighten the tourniquet on her arm, while it wouldn't stop the bleeding it would prevent her from bleeding out immediately. She at least could get to the med station, might even receive one of the new cybernetic arms to replace the one she lost. She heard the distant sound of a Republic LAAT gunship and looked up in time to see it zoom overhead and disappear over the roof of the senate building. That meant that whatever mission the Republic and O.A.G. had orchestrated was likely successful, which meant that the CIS was likely a few politicians short, if not more.
She pulled herself to her feet, being careful not to stress her right ankle and knee any more than she had to. She limped back towards the direction of the Command Center, the Medical Station was located near there.
13th January Earth Standard Calendar, Classified, Classified
"Wonderful. Truly wonderful. Vanguard performed beyond expectations."
"Now, now Chairman. We must not allow ourselves to become too excited over Operative Vanguard's performance. While he did exceed the projected expectations. He still too easily succumbs to the enhanced aggression programmed into all the Operatives from the Praetorian 3.5 programme." Came the deep and gravely reply.
"But he did overcome it, did he not Director." The Chairman's soothing voice pointed out.
"Only after that sole surviving militiawoman, who need I remind you, is still alive. Now the CIS will know of the Praetorians, it will be harder to hide their, and Vanguard's, future involvement. It is one thing dealing with recording and security devices. It is another to track down a single person who could be anywhere in CIS territory."
"An unfortunate set back, but not an unexpected one. It may even aid us as she will spread tales of the fearsome monster that tore through the Separatist Senate and whisked away a good portion of their senators."
"Indeed. What of the Subject, codename River God? Has it arrived at the Containment Facility?"
"Yes, the team we have stationed there have reported no incident in the creature's transportation to the facility and no hostile actions once inside… it's cell."
"Excellent, with this creatures' abilities the Fourth generation of Praetorians will become unstoppable. Invincible even. The O.A.G. will truly become the one and only galactic superpower."
A/N: *As far as I know, Star Wars both during and before the Clone Wars era there were not any dedicated Starfighter carriers or the Star Wars equivalent of Aircraft Carriers that weren't some sort of hybrid ship. If I have missed such a dedicated Starfighter Carrier that was operated in Star Wars canon, please feel free to inform me.
*Sees Story hasn't been updated since 4/1/2018* Wow haven't posted a new chapter since… April…. This chapter really slipped away from me. I apologise for the seven months wait. Just want to say, I'm not dead and the story's not dead.
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.