Twilight of the Republic 1.3
"Between a battle lost and a battle won, the distance is immense, and there stand empires."
Mikkel van Lynden was a partial neophyte to naval warfare. Of course, he had gone through the academy and fought in the Clone Wars, albeit only fighting a few raiders. He had never been part of a fleet action as significant as the one taking place over Alsakan.
"Captain Bogatyri, take up position off the starboard bow of the Defiant," he ordered over the holo-comm. "Captain Spatharia, fall in off the port bow." The two light cruisers would thus picket his Acclamator against torpedoes and starfighters as he arrayed his ship to face the enemy.
"Understood, commodore," came the heavily-accented reply from the Druzhinnik.
"Yes sir, maneuvering to comply," came the acknowledgment from the Warspite.
Mikkel had little experience in fleet actions, but he recalled the words of one of his instructors at the academy. If all else fails, no captain can do very wrong if he places his ship alongside that of the enemy.
His flotilla - the Defiant, the Druzhinnik, and the Warspite - anchored the extreme left flank of the Republic formation. Admiral Delastan's own Imperator-class star destroyer, the Adjudicator, was positioned in the center and surrounded by a robust collection of Venators and Victories.
"All ships advance - staggered line," came the admiral's baritone over the comms. "Crush the traitors before their reinforcements can arrive."
With the order given, the center of the Republic fleet smoothly accelerated forward, followed by the lurching advance of the central flanks. "Power to engines," Mikkel called to the helmsman, and his ship shot out from a full stop.
He looked down at the holoprojector, a map of the system and all the ships having been pulled up; despite the heavy Imperial ships, they were outnumbered by the Republic fleet. What the Imperials did have was a preponderance of heavy warships with very few escorts. Four Imperators made up the center of the enemy's formation, with seven Victories flanking. Five Venators, a single Acclamator, a bare three Arquitens, and a single Carrack light cruiser were arrayed on the flanks, along with perhaps ten or twelve smaller escort pickets and corvettes.
Despite being outnumbered by the traitors on a strategic scale, the Republic fleet held local superiority, and Admiral Delastan was not shy about leveraging that.
The Republic Navy had about two dozen battle-worthy Venators alone; even with the size of the Imperators, the Imperials were outnumbered. That fact alone made Mikkel wonder why they came; surely, the barely-twenty capital and sub-capital ships the Imperials showed up with couldn't be the entire force?
"This is just their vanguard," the admiral as good as confirmed Mikkel's suspicions over holo. "We're going to destroy it fast, before any of their reinforcements can arrive."
The massed ion cannon batteries of over fifty capital and sub-capital naval vessels ring out across the void, instantly evaporating the shields on half the enemy fleet. Mikkel's green crew had barely finished loading their torpedo load as several thousand bombers and fighter-bombers launched by a dozen Venator carriers overwhelmed the meager pickets the Imperial van had.
Nevertheless, the Imperial capitals would launch their own fighters, barely in time to intercept the overwhelming loyalist strike force; the ensuing fighter engagement would be the largest Mikkel had ever seen in his admittedly short career so far.
"Picket squadrons, move to engage enemy starfighters." Admiral Delastan calmly ordered.
"Aye, sir." Mikkel gave a brief response, mixed with ten other commanders offering affirmations, before turning to order his ships. "Warspite and Druzhinnik form up, standard formation. We'll be moving to maximum effective range."
He received quick acknowledgments from Ryurik and Freya as his squadron began to inch forward. Gazing down at the holo map of the system and the two fleets, he saw an Imperial Victory and several Consulars moving forward toward the giant furball in the direct path of Mikkel's ships.
"Divert power from engines to forward deflector shields, Omar. I want our torpedoes and turbolasers ready to turn that Victory into scrap metal and keep our lasers trained on any fighter stupid enough to come near us." Mikkel ordered, his voice shaking slightly without his notice as he attempted to emulate Delastan's calm tone from earlier. His hand shook at his side.
"Aye, sir." Omar would reply stiffly, trying not to focus on the fact they were fighting other sentients now, not the glorified scrap metal that were battle droids.
A few more moments of tense silence would dominate the room as the Defiant crept forward. Finally, the first canons began to roar as a squadron of fighters and bombers split off from the engagement, streaking towards the squadron like lightning bolts. Lasers would streak out from the Defiant's deck, its guns joined by the Druzhinnik and Warspite. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he would note this was the first time he had ordered the Defiant's guns to fire in anger, and it was the first time the Warspite had ever shot in anger, given the ship was fresh off the lines.
Mikkel clenched his hand in an attempt to quash the shaking as he spoke. "Steady, we're almost in range."
"Reaching effective range in three, two, one," Omar reported, his voice sounding as if he was talking about the weather: a forced casualness, no doubt. "By your orders, commodore."
Mikkel could barely feel his heartbeat, and his tongue felt like iron in his mouth, but he spoke regardless. "Fire all turbolasers; hold the torpedoes."
Sound doesn't travel in space; Mikkel knew this. It was basic common sense. However, as his powerful heavy turrets began to fire, he would swear until his dying day he heard the roar of the guns as if the ship itself was a living thing that relished in the fighting. Blue streaks of light traveled through the void, slamming into the opposing Victory, its whole front lighting up as bright blue deflector shields sprang to life, sparing it from a bombardment strong enough to rend continents into glass.
"Captain, the Victory is firing its missile batteries." Lieutenant Yoan spoke over the hustle of the bridge.
"Omar, retask all point defense guns to thinning that cluster." Mikkel swiftly ordered, glancing nervously at the ever-encroaching fighter swarm that was barely being held off by the guns of the Warspite and Druzhinnik.
"Aye, sir," Omar replied dutifully at his console.
Mikkel looked up from the holo map, staring at the missiles approaching the Defiant like a swarm of angry wasps. Small laser bolts fired into the mass, occasionally causing a small explosion, thinning the numbers. Despite this, the Defiant's turbolasers would continue to pour furious hatred onto the opposing ship, its shielding slowly being broken through.
"Brace for impact!" Mikkel grabbed the holo-table, hoping it would stabilize him enough that the incoming blast wouldn't throw him.
The entire front of the Defiant lit up like a Life Day celebration as the missiles hit home. Mikkel felt the force of the attack try to throw him from his position, but he would narrowly remain upright.
"Konstantin, status report." Mikkel would bark out.
"Frontal deflector shields at fifty percent and holding." The young engineer would report swiftly.
Looking through the bridge viewport, his muscles pulled his face into some species of a smile, all teeth and malice, as he watched the Defiant's guns impacting the hull of the Victory, its shielding depleted.
"Omar, fire all four torpedo tubes. Aim for the bridge." Mikkel would laugh mirthlessly as he gave the order and condemned hundreds to death with a single sentence. Four angry red streaks would shoot out of the nose of the Defiant, slipping through oncoming enemy fire as they danced toward the enemy. One of the Victory's escorts, a small Consular, fired up its engines and dashed forward, moving to intercept the torpedoes, but its lasers missed their target. In a seeming last-ditch effort, the small and agile ship slammed itself into one of the torpedoes, the explosive power of the munition blasting through its shields and reducing the unfortunate picket to a few pieces of twisted metal floating through space.
However, despite its valiant effort, the other three torpedoes would continue to streak through the void. The point defense fire from another Consular would pick one off. Two red streaks, they looked barely larger than a pinprick from the bridge of the Defiant, would slam into the bridge of the Victory. For a brief moment, it seemed like they were both duds as they connected and embedded themselves into the ship. Until they set off, engulfing the entire bridge in a firestorm of heat and molten slag. Lights flickered in the whole enemy vessel as it drifted through space, now dead in the void, its guns silenced. The bridge of the Victory was just gone. It no longer existed.
"Warspite and Druzhinnik, focus fire on the escorts; we'll keep the fighters off you."
"Aye, sir. Good kill," Bogatyri would respond first, seemingly casual about the entire fight.
"Aye, sir." Freya's response came more muted; she and her ship were fresh, even greener than Mikkel and his crew.
The two Arquitens, which had been focusing their fire on the nearby furball, switched targets, opening up on the three remaining Consulars that had been the Victory's escort. It wouldn't take long for them to reduce the three small ships into nothing but slag.
Delastan's voice rang out over the comm again. "A second imperial fleet has jumped into the system. Larger than this one. Rear Admiral Hill and Commodores Van Lynden, Miszko, Guteman, Alekys, Fennska, and Rigetti-Davnek, split from formation, group up around Hill's fleet, and intercept the second fleet."
All seven rattled off affirmations. Mikkel watched as significant portions of the fleet, his own squadron included, boosted power to engines and brought their ships around to confront the new opposing fleet. It was easily double the strength of the vanguard fleet.
They must have finally played their hand.
Suddenly a great flash of light came from the corner of Mikkel's left eye.
"The Resplendent!" came a panicked cry from the comms. "The Resplendent exploded!"
"That was our Mandator," Lorn explained, sounding shaken himself.
Mikkel turned fully and beheld a great ball of fire and plasma spreading out in oranges, reds, and blues from the shipyard, which held the drydocked Mandator-class star dreadnought. Secondary explosions rocked the shipyard itself: a support beam was vaporized, a strut came loose and went shooting off into space, and the docking bay on the shipyard disappeared in a flash of light.
The rear half of the Mandator was simply gone, and Mikkel had a hard time comprehending it. Was it sabotage? he wondered. Was it a stray shot? An unlucky failure?
The front half of the Mandator went spinning into the void - even this detached wreck was still larger than any three ships in the battle put together. "This is Lieutenant Jensen on board the Resplendent!" came a shrill, panicked cry over the radio. "The engines have been destroyed and–shit!" The line cut off as secondary explosions began rocking the hulk of the Mandator.
Mikkel - wordlessly, mouth agape - glanced toward the sensors to see a bare handful of escape pods launch from the rapidly-failing wreck of half a Mandator.
"The debris field from the shipyard - some of it's heading this way!" shouted Lorn from across the bridge.
"This is Rear Admiral Hill. All units under begin evasive maneuvers." She sounded calm and decisive even as support struts and pieces of the ship the size of Carracks flew through the void.
A Venator rolled to its port side and started angling itself upward, only for a piece of the Resplendent to collide with it. In the span of three seconds, a fragment the size of a light cruiser sheared off both bridges of the Venator, leaving the rest of it drifting dead. A few of the turrets began firing wildly in the general direction of the Imperial fleet, but most activity from the dying star destroyer came from LA/ATs and escape pods fleeing the ship.
"That thing took out the Sultana," a young comms officer shouted into the void. "That was Commodore Miszko's command ship!"
The Imperial fleet fared just as poorly. The Imperators began maneuvering, only for one of them to be struck from the side by a support strut, like a javelin cast by some ancient warrior. The ship was thrown to one side as the giant piece of metal impaled itself like a spear into the warship, and explosions began rocking it.
The Mandator's front piece, still somewhat intact, came flying through their sector, though far too low to collide with anything. One of the bow turrets on the Mandator's fragment erupted off the ship in a bright explosion of plasma. A detachment of V-Wing starfighters escorting a couple of transports fled an auxiliary hangar; shortly thereafter, the remainder of the bow broke up entirely.
Amazingly, against all odds, a couple of pieces of debris from the Resplendant's battery impacted an Imperial CR90 corvette, even as the majority of both fleets were still stunned into silence.
"This is flight lieutenant Tryggvadottir from the Resplendent, requesting permission to land on any suitable ship," came the request through the comms - a woman's voice with a crisp Alsakan accent, poorly-hidden panic both evident in her voice.
"This is Admiral Hill; request denied," came the instant reply. "We're taking on survivors from the Sultana, and our bays are at full capacity–"
"This is Captain Hammershield on the Arquitens Hollander," came a man with a harsh Alsakani accent, cutting off Hill before she could finish her sentence. "Our bays are empty, but we can only take a few of the pods."
As Mikkel gazed forward, he saw an Imperial Acclamator barely avoid a near-miss from the shipyard's debris field. He blinked once and shook a bit of the deadened panic off of himself.
"This is Commodore van Lynden of the Acclamator Defiant," he found himself saying. "The Defiant is prepared to take on survivors from the Resplendent."
"Very well," came the aggrieved voice of Hill, as if she were committing some great sacrifice under the harshest duress. "Captain Hammershield, Commodore van Lynden, halt combat maneuvers and begin taking survivors from the Resplendent into your bays."
"This is Second Lieutenant Riga, shipboard marine detachment. We're flying the LA/ATs toward you, Defiant. Hope you're ready for us."
Mikkel blinked again and brought himself out of his awe-struck state. "Lorn, bring us to the edge of the debris field. Lieutenant Yoan, you have the bridge. Rook, follow me to the hanger." He pointed towards the clone security officer on the bridge. "We need to help organize the rescue."
Mikkel stepped out of the bridge, making his way toward the elevator. He could only hope the battle hadn't been lost by the time he finished the rescue effort.
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AN: Big battle chapter, or well part of it. Been looking forward to writing this for a while. This and the upcoming chapter 4 were originally supposed to be part of the same chapter but it started getting a bit longer than I had planned lol. As always big shoutout to Legionary Guard on AH, and hope y'all have a wonderful day.