Tarkin's Fist IV: Blood and Durasteel

by AshlaTi

A generation has passed since the devastation of the Empire-Earth War. Now a new conflict rages, this time the battles are fought among the stars themselves. A new enemy rises to threaten both the Empire and Earth's very existence. New characters and old raise arms against one another for the very fate of the Milky Way

43. New Thyfeeria 3

))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

Command Bridge, FOS Assaulter, Combined Assault Fleet, Kuat System

)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

"It's a trap!"

The message from Moxxi Two crashed into Admiral Akfar's consciousness with far greater impact than any bomb thus far dropped today.

General Crisis would never admit it, but the message shocked him to his core as well. It was one thing to accept the possibility that the enemy knew they were coming and that Fulcrum's report of the enemy fleet gathering at Onasi V was false; it was quite another thing to believe it. The first messages from Moxxi Two did not preclude the possibility of enemy Star Destroyers, hence it took Admiral Akfar temporarily off the hook. Now though, the fate of Operation Matchstick dangled on that same hook and what he ordered next.

"Echuta." Captain Setrauss emphasized the weight of the moment. Outside the ship, the Space Force X-Wings battled with the dwindling number of bombers sent from Target Alexandria. Pieces of the Imperial airspeeders drifted about, scattered amongst the nearly untouched Combined Fleet. "Calatran's fighters are signaling for a landing. They're near bingo on fuel. The Commander is pretty furious."

"Why is that? His attack on Target Alexandria went off beautifully." Crisis asked.

"It appears nervous gunners aboard the Eiffel blasted upon them as they entered our air space. Luckily their aim wasn't very good, and nobody was hurt before they recognized our TIEs weren't Imperial." Setrauss explained. It was a common fear among First Order officers. Their equipment simply looked too much like the enemy's during the heat of battle.

"Get them back aboard. Fuel them up and hit those pilots with caf and stims. They've got to be running on fumes by this point." Crisis ordered, then turning to the Earthling officer. "Admiral Akfar, what are your orders?"

"We need to attack that Star Destroyer, sir. It's a viable threat to my ship." Setrauss urged the silent Admiral.

"We have standing orders from Admiral Jethran not to engage the enemy fleet with our ships until we have confirmation of the Ares in the battlezone. Did Moxxi Two say it was a Super Star Destroyer?"

"No confirmation of ship class. But there can be no mistaking a SSD." Setrauss shrugged. In the distance an A-Wing set fire to a StarFortress's sublight engine, causing it to fall flaming through the center of the fleet.

"Then we can only attack it with our airspeeders and continue to act as bait for the bigger prize." Crisis reiterated the grand strategy. "We must attack at once with what's in the launch racks, before they can launch an attack on us."

"Your advice is redundant, general. If I wanted the advice of an alien, I would have asked for it." Akfar hissed. His frustration oozed from his pores as he glared at every First Order member aboard the bridge. "Order all of Judge Wave back aboard and immediately rearm them with torpedoes for a combined strike on that Star Destroyer."

"But what about the airspeeders ready to launch from Jury Wave?" Crisis demanded answers. This battle was stressing the alliance to the breaking point.

"I do not appreciate your prodding. I have pushed the Empire halfway back to Palpatine Prime. I stopped them cold at Las Vegas. I know how to deal with their kind." The way the Earthling described the Imperials left no doubt he included the First Order in that description.

To bring in the circling, coughing Judge Wave, the launch racks had to be cleared, which in turn gave the opportunity to switch back to proton torpedoes. Crisis imagined that the overworked deck crews must have been thinking command had lost its mind at this point. When he looked at Admiral Akfar he was having similar thoughts.

As soon as the racks were empty, the signal was sent to the Judge Wave to commence landing. The Confederate heavy cruisers cycled some of their escorts around at the same time as the last surviving planet-side bombers left the area and returned to New Thyfeeria. The new escorts climbed up to reach their compatriots, maneuvering like hungry spikesharks above the fleet.

Soon reports were coming in from the hangar. Some of the pilots were landing in pretty bad shape. One pilot passed out from loss of blood in the recovery rack. Several of the recovered TIEs were so full of holes it was evident they were no longer space-worthy or combat-effective.

The deck crews threw off their stifling black helmets and rolled carts of proton torpedoes underneath the returning TIEs. Their officers and NCOs berated them to move faster as BB and R2 astromechs attempted hasty repairs on some of the airspeeders. Medics cleared away the wounded pilots. There were no fresh pilots to take their place. The 7th Fleet of Conquest had brought no replacements with it during the long jump from the Home Galaxy.

Crisis fumed at the delay. It would take another thirty minutes standard for the strike force to be rearmed and resighted in the launch racks. Akfar was a fool, Crisis decided, and nothing would ever change that. He was fine with strategy and chart rooms, but he had no place on a battlefield.

Thirty minutes, Crisis thought. They had defeated everything the Empire had thrown at them for over an hour. They should be alright for another thirty minutes. A dark thought started to materialize in the back of his mind; how much could really change in thirty minutes?

))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

INS Flood, Imperial Task Force, Kuat System

))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

"Our first units should be reaching the enemy fleet in about five minutes, Admiral." Captain Isoto estimated. "It's tough to give a proper assessment with all this kriffing jamming going on in the system."

The commander of the Flood wasn't over-exaggerating either. Admiral Banjeer's task force was passively jamming, as was the enemy fleet, since they didn't want to give their positions away. Nearby New Thyfeeria was actively jamming and beyond that the most powerful jamming systems in the fleet were part of the defenses of Nal Kuat on the other side of the system and they were pumping out electronic sensor interference as fast as they could. All that electronic warfare created a situation that was more akin to what their ancestors had to do when they first started exploring the Home Galaxy; sail by senses and intuition alone.

"I have faith that most of them will find the target." Admiral Banjeer stated as he watched the crew go about their duties in the pit below. His eyes fell invariably on the meditating figure in Jedi robes at the back of the port-side pit.

"We can't guarantee anything since that witch screwed up the launches." Isoto glared at Padawan Sylphanie Teshlo. Her Battle Meditation technique had been intended to create a unified attack on the enemy, instead it had scattered Banjeer's squadrons across the local system. "Half my deck crew has reported to the medbays, saying their heads are all fuzzy. What about our pilots?"

"The effect should have worn off once the TIEs were a few kilometers away from the ship. I ordered the Jedi to focus solely on launch operations." Banjeer said.

"All TIEs are away from her clutches then. What is she still doing?" Isoto asked.

"I tasked her with finding that odd subspace contact we've been picking up for the past hour."

"A scout for sure. We can't verify its type until someone lays eyes on her. We've got the fighter coverage looking for it."

"Notify the Slash and Quill to keep their distance. There's nothing we can do if we've been spotted, but there is also no reason to give away our true numbers and so far, neither Yage nor Grondarle have reported our mystery intruder in their neighborhoods'." Banjeer ordered.

"I couldn't agree more. Still, I wish we had launched that attack sooner. As it were, we are going to arrive right after General Hasa's bombers have wrapped up their attacks. So much for coordination."

"We've already taken the most important step." Banjeer admitted.

"Which was, sir?"

"We launched everything we had at the earliest moment. The moment Hasa and Tanax reported they were being hit on New Thyfeeria we sent our bucketheads out. Our forces should be reaching those invading scum at the same moment they are retrieving their strike force. It will be a busy time for their commander, whoever he might be." In reaching this vital command decision to withhold no part of his strike power, Banjeer was just doing what came naturally. He never seriously entertained any idea of less than an all-out attack.

"Akfar or that First Order Admiral we were told to be on the lookout for, for sure." Isoto asserted.

"My assumption as well. I'd put my credits it's the First Order sleemo. Same guy who socked us at Nal Kuat six months ago. Those are his Resurgents at the center of that fleet." Banjeer hazarded a guess. He was not a gambling man and liked to weigh every variable before an attack was launched. But at the same time, he was not the one-man show that popular Admiral Vertitas was either. Banjeer surrounded himself with highly competent officers and had even hand-picked Captain Isoto as his replacement for command of the Flood. "By their departure vectors who do you estimate will hit the enemy fleet first?"

"The torpedo squadrons got a good lead on the others when they took off. By my calculations Torpedo One, under Major Gerrera, from the Quill was closest and had a correct bearing on the Herf's last sighting report."

"Torpedo One it is. Followed by Torpedo Four and your own Torpedo Five. Some of Stalgis's Interceptors should catch up to them by them." Banjeer could see the moving formations in his mind as he pictured them closing with the enemy fleet. He winced at how far apart they presumably were at this point with his slower TIE/sa lagging behind.

"Thank the light for Stalgis then. I can't believe Hasa sent his bombers out without cover. Madness." Isoto visibly shivered at the thought.

"He had little choice. But yes, I have higher hopes for our own counterstrike." Banjeer looked out the forward viewport to the distant spot, well out of visual range, where the enemy fleet was now gathered awaiting his pilots and their onrushing attack.

Behind his impassive countenance, Banjeer was no less fond and proud of his troopers than was the demonstrative Vertitas, but he faced without flinching the most heart-rending necessity; a good commander ever knows to risk sacrifice of a few that many may live.

))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

Torpedo Five escort, on approach to enemy combined fleet position

))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

The whole galaxy was sprawled out beneath them. The attacking torpedo carriers had meant to come in from the flank, but they had overestimated their climb and were now in a much superior position relative to the enemy fleet. They would have to come in from above and try to crack the heavy dorsal armor of the enemy's largest ships.

With a sight like this before her, Strikeout knew the situation called for one thing. She reached underneath her ejection seat and touched the controls of a small datapad she had hidden away several hours before the mission. "Blondie, don't fail me now."

The sweet disco sounds of Heart of Glass quickly filled Strikeout's Interceptor. A predatory smile formed underneath her flight helmet. We stop them here, she vowed.

From three hundred kilometers out, the Void over the invaders looked like an Empire Fete week celebration. The enemy warships were still blasting away even when no Imperial airspeeders were around them. Torpedos One and Four could just barely be made out with the naked eye fifty and twenty kilometers ahead respectively.

Neither of the earlier two squadrons were escorted. Captain Stalgis, Sandtusker, and the other Interceptors had never been able to catch up to them after launching so late from the Flood. What was that fuzziness in their heads back there, Strikeout pondered? Well, her head wasn't cloudy now, in fact it was more focused than it had ever been in her life.

At two hundred kilometers Strikeout and Vyvya were in position behind the fifteen TIE/sa torpedo carriers of Torpedo Five. The slow-moving bombers were lining up for their attack runs. The enemy fleet could be easily discerned at this distance. Four large Star Destroyers, Resurgent class according to FleetIntel, rested in the center of the fleet. Below the Star Destroyers was a rapidly diminishing cloud of TIE craft, presumably the first strike against New Thyfeeria returning to their motherships for refueling and new bombs. Close by were two larger First Order vessels, but her targeting computer couldn't classify them. Whatever those cruisers were, they didn't appear to be TIE carriers. In between the First Order targets and the attacking Navy TIEs were nearly twenty smaller Confederate Space Force escorts and a mixed bag of nearly thirty A-Wings and X-Wings providing fighter cover.

Most of them were swirling about on the coreward side of the enemy fleet. Strikeout peered over that way to spot a few of the retreating bombers leaving the area. Several of them were trailing smoke and sparks as they were harassed by the enemy fighters. Someone must have spotted the torpedo carriers coming in because at that moment most of the Confederate fighters broke off their pursuit and turned to engage Torpedo One at the head of the newest Imperial attack.

They weren't the only ones turning either. The Resurgents were aligning themselves away from New Thyfeeria. It took a second for Strikeout to realize it but that were now facing the direction of Admiral Banjeer's task force. They'd only do that if they had discovered the fleet's location.

"All Fighter Five escorts, stick close to your charges. We have to make this attack pay out or we might not have a home to go back to." Sandtusker's magnified voice carried across the Interceptor's comm channel. It was too late for radio silence. The enemy could see them coming.

"Vyvya, call out those targets, and remember the plan." Strikeout called her panelman.

"Yeah, yeah. We'll try it out. By the Black Nebula!" He suddenly called out. They were passing through a field of debris hanging over the enemy fleet. Demolished TIE/sa and StarFortress bombers by the dozens was scattered about the Void. Several bodies, and many smaller chunks of bodies, floated amongst the wreckage. So many lives thrown away and the enemy fleet hardly looks scratched, Strikeout thought. Are we next?

The warships were turning away from the attackers and presenting their sterns to the onrushing Imperials. The bombers were slow craft, and the chase would expose them for a longer period of time to the attentions of the enemy fighters. They also had to get directly over the enemy fleet due to their superior position before they could start a dive-like run from above the Resurgents.

At the exact moment they retrieved the last of the TIEs from the earlier attack on New Thyfeeria, the invaders opened up with the AA blasters. Revenge corvettes popped chaffe and sensor-reflecting smoke to confuse the Imperial torpedo carriers.

"What an odd approach they're making", Strikeout thought as she watched Torpedo One go in. She'd never seen torpedo carriers in action before and assumed they would have gone in low and from the flanks. She waited impatiently for the word from Torpedo One's flight leader for the other Torpedo Squadrons to follow them in, but he chose that moment to radio back to the Task Force that they were going in. No effort was made to coordinate the attack. ""We will go in," The bomber leader called out on the radio, sounding very calm. "We won't turn back. We will attack. May the Force be with us."

A moment later, the Void around Torpedo One was filled with X-Wing fighters. As they swirled madly around the TIE/sa, it seemed to Strikeout they were flying in slow motion while the X-Wings were flying in real time. She estimated thirty-five Space Force fighters swirling around the first group of torpedo carriers, as well as a growing field of flak bursts blasted from the heavier escorts.

Most of the unfortunate Torpedo One were ripped apart by the swarming X-Wings before they could release their proton torpedoes. One bomber was hit and set afire. It fell out of formation and turned towards a nearby Eiffel class cruiser where it crashed harmlessly against the Confederate warship's heavy armor without detonating its weapon.

Voices cut across the channel from the pilots of Torpedo One as they lived out their final seconds. "Attack at once . . . Watch those fighters . . . How am I doing? . . . I'd give a million credits to know who did that . . . scratch one X-Wing . . . both of my panelmen are gone . . ."

As Strikeout watched, the lead TIE/sa burst into flames. Fire quickly enveloped the fuselage, and the torpedo carrier began gliding down away from the enemy escorts trailing a thick cloud of smoke and fire. The leader suddenly stood up in the blazing cockpit as if he were riding a fiery chariot. In the final moments, he thrust his leg out onto the right strut. Then the TIE/sa went up in a quick ball of fire and he was gone.

She witnessed another one of the TIE/sa drop like a hurtling stone through the entire enemy fleet. A few seconds later, another TIE/sa went down. The dwindling formation was still a dozen kilometers from the Resurgents when two A-Wings moved in to attack the last surviving bomber from Torpedo One.

The last TIE/sa pulled up over a Naruto cruiser, then turned back over towards the Resurgent below him. Strikeout could not see how he could miss even if he wanted to, for the Resurgent turned hard starboard right into him. Contemptuous of the erratic anti-airspeeder fire, the lone torpedo carrier flew right down the barrels of one of the large turrets up forward. The bomber did a flipper-turn and dove at the warship's fantail. He was the only member of Torpedo One to launch his proton torpedo.

The X-Wings in the area tried to blast the quick moving weapon to no avail, but they must have succeeded in gaining the attention of the large First Order warship, for at the last moment it turned, and the torpedo sped by.

The lone TIE/sa had no sooner cleared the ship than eight X-Wings came down on him in a line. The second or third of them blasted out his guidance thrusters. One panel snapped off and the TIE/sa went spinning off into the Void out of control. Strikeout wasn't positive but she thought she saw an ejection seat launch from the small bomber seconds before it disappeared off into space.

Now it was Torpedo Four from the Slash's turn, who, after watching the Quill's Torpedo One's dismal performance slowed to allow the Flood's Torpedo Five to catch up. Strikeout and Vyvya were the only two escorts among the bombers, but Sandtusker's Fighter Five Squadron was nearby. The Confederate fighters saw them coming in and climbed to meet them. No doubt their intention was to stop the Imperial attack as high above and away from their main fleet as they could.

The Interceptors of Fighter Five were so much faster than the TIE/sa that they had to swing back and forth in 'Senth" turns to keep the torpedo carriers in view. About halfway to the target, Strikeout momentarily lost sight of Torpedo Four behind a smokescreen. When she picked up the TIE/sa again, several dozen X-Wings had already jumped them. She knew the Interceptors were in an unfortunate spot, Torpedo Four was starting to go down in flames and Torpedo One had already been blown to bits. No one had any idea where the bomber squadrons were. For all she knew, Torpedo Five was the only remaining strike squadron.

Torpedo Four and Five were much more experienced units than Torpedo One, consisting of veterans from Plympto Blight and the raid on Ro-loo. Their newest members had racked up over two thousand hours of flight time, most of it in torpedo carriers. The Flight Leader of Torpedo Four split them up into two groups to each strike at a different Resurgent. At fifty kilometers they separated and headed for the Star Destroyers across the broad protective circle of Revenges, Narutos and Eiffels. Not all of them made it.

X-Wings and A-Wings knocked one TIE/sa after another out of action. Strikeout watched Torpedo Four dwindle down to its last five TIE/sa before they launched their weapons. A single X-Wing made a lazy pass at them as they climbed out of their dives. Four torpedoes missed their targets while one looked to have impacted, but after the blast cleared, Strikeout noted that it had been nothing more than a surface impact or the warship's shield had held up under the brunt of the weapon's energy.

Torpedo Five didn't have much luck either. The Confederate fighters disrupted their attack runs and chased them back, well above the fleet. Half of them had been lost and the remaining ones were so full of holes they had to return to ship. It would have been suicidal to attempt another attack. The torpedo carriers launched futile attacks on the Confederate escorts as they made their escapes, but the attacks were launched from maximum range and the quick Revenges easily dodged them.

With the torpedo carriers neatly dealt with, the X-Wings soon turned their attention to the Imperial fighters. Sandtusker immediately ordered his Interceptors into the fray and an old-style vape-fight claimed the attention of all the Confederate fighters. All of them climbing to join in the fight.

A number of X-Wings jumped Strikeout and Vyvya. Strikeout spotted the first one approaching from her rear. "Bandit on my six. Execute weave!"

Strikeout's Interceptor popped bright illumination flares as she turned directly into Vyvya's flight path. The Confederate fighter kept his focus on her, not realizing until it was too late that she had drawn him directly into the sights of Vyvya's L-s9.3 cannons. All six of the blasters, four on the wingtips and two in the chin, opened up on the Earthling, puncturing both fighter and pilot alike.

"Scum on my tail. Execute weave!" Vyvya called out a few seconds later. Her panelman veered directly into her path with a tailing X-Wing close behind. In the blink of an eye, she turned the enemy snubnose into a blazing wreck.

Strikeout and Vyvya operated the August Weave with smooth perfection, as if they had been doing it for years. Within the next few minutes, they dispatched two more X-Wings along with a single A-Wing.

"What in the kriff are you two doing over there?" Sandtusker's astonished voice called out from his own fight several kilometers away. Pilots on both sides had noticed the proficiency the two Interceptors exhibited in quickly knocking out Confederate fighters.

"Just a little maneuver Vyvya and I came up with, sir." Strikeout replied.

"Echuta! Everyone see what those two schuttas are doing and copy them. Let's plow this field." Sandtusker called to the other Interceptors.

The X-Wings pressed on with their defense. They still had numbers on their side along with AA blasters from the escorts. Even so, with Strikeout's new move, the Interceptors held their own. In the swirling melee they lost only two of their number for almost a dozen of the Confederate fighters who seemed shocked at their sudden losses in a battle where they had done most of the slaughtering up to now.

"Keep 'em busy, Fighter Five." Sandtusker ordered. "Let them know what a fight really feels like."

Strikeout grinned as she took out her third kill. Making six with her earlier three at Ro-loo. She wouldn't realize it until later, but she had made ace today. Instead, her attention flittered to the Resurgents for a second. Was something moving below them?

She didn't have time to think about it, for Vyvya called out. "Solar on my tail. Weave! Weave! Weave!"

Three seconds later she ripped the A-Wing from stem to stern. Four kills in a single day, she reminded herself as she took up position with Vyvya again, hardly makes up for the price we paid.

)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

FOS Assaulter, Combined Fleet

))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

"I think it may be time to break out the Daruvvian Champagne." Captain Setrauss suggested as they watched the remains of the three Imperial squadrons of torpedo carriers leave the sector.

"Perhaps a tad premature, Captain." Crisis retorted. His mood had certainly changed in the last few minutes as the Confederate defenses had smashed the naval attack TIEs to pieces over the fleet. "Admiral, I suggest we launch an attack at once to dispatch that Star Destroyer. Our TIEs are already being spotted down in the launch racks."

"Let's leave nothing to chance. Commander Ekthar will lead this attack. He has yet to signal that all of Jury Wave is ready." Admiral Akfar suggested. Three torpedo squadrons along with a fighter squadron had been violently rebuked by the Admiral's fellow Earthlings. If you factor in another fighter squadron providing cover over the enemy Star Destroyer, you'd come up with a single Imperial I class Star Destroyer's compliment. Surely, that was all they had in the local system.

"It's clear Target Alexandria has lost much of its attack strength. The Imperial Navy has thrown up everything they had in the area and so far, their attacks have been easily driven off." Crisis looked out at the four great Resurgents which seemed to give him every reason for a newfound confidence. But smug satisfaction compounded with the power they had at hand to underestimate the importance of that single Star Destroyer Moxxi Two had spotted.

"Perhaps, we should notify Admiral Jethran to make the invasion ships ready?" Setrauss suggested.

"Not until we know the location of the Ares. The Admiral's plan calls for its destruction before we invade New Thyfeeria and ultimately, Nal Kuat." Crisis reminded the naval officer.

"Kind of disturbing how those Interceptors brushed off our escorts so easily. I've never seen such a maneuver." Setrauss spoke about the deadly vape-fight that occurred at the end of the torpedo attack. All of the Space Force X-Wings and A-Wings circled about nearly forty kilometers above the fleet as if daring the Imperial Interceptors to return and finish the duel.

"They're growing desperate. They can't have much fight left in them." Akfar brushed off the one-sided kill ratio Space Force's fighters had suffered at the hands of their adversaries. Crisis had no doubt, that if First Order TIEs had met their Imperial counterparts it would have been a different story all together.

"New contact. Multiple bogeys inbound." The Scan-Mode Officer announced. It was nearly his tenth such announcement in the past hour and his sense of urgency was somewhat diminished because of it.

Crisis glanced upwards through the swirling formations of heavy to light escorts above the Resurgents. None of them seemed to be reacting to an oncoming attack. The AA blasters were silent for the moment and the Confederate fighters patrolled silently like ghosts.

"Where are they?" Setrauss asked the officer below them.

The officer checked the Scan-Mode again. "Ten kilometers and closing. Speed increasing."

Akfar attention turned to the warning, and he peered outside next to Crisis. Like the First Order General, the Earthling didn't spot anything out of the ordinary either. "What bearing?"

"Zero degrees. Seven kilometers inferior bubble." The officer announced causing every head on the bridge to snap in his direction.

Crisis nearly leaped across the bridge to peer down at the man. "Did you say inferior?"

"Yes, sir. Five kilometers."

"Where are our fighters?" Setrauss demanded. Everyone knew the answer. The Maxima, Eiffels, Narutos and Revenges, along with every single X-Wing and A-Wing was flying above the Resurgents at the moment, drawn there by the earlier attacks.

"Activate ventral cannons. Transfer power from the dorsal to the ventral shields now!" Setrauss shouted. The crew jumped to their tasks as they raced to follow the Captain's orders. But that would take seconds they didn't have.

Crisis looked over to the Subspace radar display to see dozens of small shapes climbing up to meet the Resurgents. Their actions on the bridge were too late. Time had run out.

)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

Bomber Four

))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

From his position, Lieutenant Bastion, known as Star Scream behind the stick of his TIE/sa, had a clear view from one end of the Almuhit Mealstrom near the entrance by New Thyfeeria to the furthest recesses tucked back around Nal Kessel, but however far he craned his neck all he could see was the endless Milky Way stretching for limitless parsecs.

Bomber Four had reached the anticipated point of interception with the enemy fleet, nearly two hundred thousand kilometers from the Slash. Far off to port, a subtle change in the texture of the maelstrom hinted of New Thyfeeria's location. Some of the pilots on the left side of the formation swore they could see smoke rising from the stricken planet. But where was the First Order and Space Force combined fleet?

"Keep your eyes peeled, Tonks." Star Scream told his bombardier.

"I don't think I've blinked in the last ten minutes, sir." The Airman joked.

Star Scream didn't envy his commander's current situation. Did he assume they had beaten the enemy to the plotted interception point, and circle until Akfar's fleet sailed into view? On the other hand, should they continue on towards New Thyfeeria, in case they were behind the enemy? Bomber Four had eaten up too much fuel to send them into an expanding cube search pattern to seek out the enemy. They hadn't seen any sign of Bomber One or Five or their fighter escorts since they launched from the Slash. Should they just return to Admiral Banjeer's task force while the getting was good?

Star Scream looked at his fuel monitors for his twin ion engines. He had maybe fifteen minutes to spare for a search. The Force only knew how much he'd burn through if they came across their target.

"All Four elements. This is Four Leader." Apex announced on the squadron channel. His TIE bomber started to turn parallel to the anticipated enemy route. "Make a course for two-four-zero for ten minutes standard."

Star Scream followed his commander's orders, making sure his two green panelmen, Ghest and Khardax, followed the course adjustment. The two Rodians were on his flanks as if he had tied a string to them. He wondered if Apex's decision to turn would have any effect on the day's turnout.

Seven minutes after the TIE/sa had swung onto the new course, the lead TIE/sa wagged its panels up and down. Apex had spotted something. Star Scream peered ahead to see what the High Colonel had gotten excited about. Sure enough a long ion trail of energy led to a tiny brushstroke of a ship against the starry backdrop.

Following the line with his macrobinoculars Star Scream saw what he initially took to be a Naruto cruiser but changed his identification to a solo Revenge corvette cruising slowly rimward. They couldn't get much closer without revealing their position to the warship, but it looked damaged from this range and was certainly travelling much slower than a star ship had any right to be.

The bombers fell into the ship's sensor shadow and stalked it for another five minutes. They maintained radio silence and performed passive sensor sweeps ahead of the Revenge.

The Slash's bombers had been following Apex for about six minutes in her stalking of the Confederate corvette when the enemy fleet broke into view. Star Scream eyed his fuel monitor as it slightly dipped under half full. The leather of his flight gloves crinkled when he tightened his grip on his flight controls.

The sight before them was one he knew he'd never forget for the remainder of his days. Four massive Star Destroyers, obviously First Order sleemos, maneuvered at the bottom of a spiraling column of enemy escorts. Heavy First Order cruisers along with Space Force cruisers of all types and a score of Revenges were blasting upwards towards an unseen target. Explosions erupted above the fleet as they approached. Star Scream switched on his IFF system and realized their fellow torpedo carriers were attacking the enemy fleet from above.

From above.

The realization hit him like a punch to the face. They had followed that Revenge into an inferior position below the enemy fleet. All of the enemies' eyes were focused on the torpedo carrier attack.

A flash of sunlight from Tau Ceti reflected off something far to their starboard. IFF identified it as Bomber Five from the Flood. They were making a similar, undetected approach from the opposite direction.

They couldn't have coordinated their attack better if they had actually planned it. Though no one realized it at the moment, Padawan Teshlo's failed attempt to coordinate the launch had granted them a glorious opportunity.

Apex broke hyperwave silence to split his squadron into two groups of fifteen bombers. She called out to her two most senior pilots. "Star Scream, take the big schutta on the port. Ravager, take the nearest one to starboard." Deciding to head the starboard strike herself, Apex added. "Ravager, follow me."

At this time, the First Order Resurgents were lined up in no orderly formation. Two successive ship-by-ship turns to coreward had left Assaulter and Kill to the New Thyfeerian side of the battlespace, with Sinister somewhat coreward, Hatred in the same direction but far enough away that she escaped immediate attention.

As Star Scream made his way for the left Star Destroyer, which his targeting computer identified as the Kill, the enemy ships began a sporadic anti-airspeeder blaster defense as the warship's ventral cannons slowly woke to the danger they were in. A sudden impact shook his TIE/sa hard enough to cause the pilot to bite his tongue. He could taste the saltiness from his own blood in his mouth. Knowing there was nothing he could do for it, he ignored it, instead focusing on keeping his stomach contents down as his bowels lurched from the sudden loss of gravity inside the bomber.

"Tonk, inertial dampers are out. What's the damage over on your side?" Star Scream asked his bombardier in the weapon pod.

"We've got a hole in the port wing large enough to throw a womp rat through." Tonks responded. "Bombs are still intact and ready to drop."

"Alright, we just need to hold it together for the next two minutes." Star Scream tried to reassure himself just as much as Tonks after that brutal hit.

Looking up the dark shape of the Resurgent loomed over them. The bombers were all coming at the Kill from three different directions to catch the Star Destroyer in a squeeze and prevent concentration of anti-airspeeder turrets. Remembering the friends he lost at Nal Kuat, Star Scream narrowed his eyes and activated his targeting computer, sighting it dead center on the Kill.

Just as he began his run, Apex plunged past him like a shriek-hawk with the rest of Ravager's TIE/sa on her tail. What the kriff is she doing, he thought? That was his target. Now all of Bomber Four was concentrating on a single Star Destroyer. Star Scream broke off his own climb and took off towards the Assaulter, thus unavoidably delaying his strike by a few moments.

Rushing up in a near-vertical climb, Star Scream saw an enemy TIE activating its engines in the first TIE launch rack. He realized, as he stared through his bomb sights, the enemy was about ready to launch a wave of fighters.

Ghest and Khardax had followed him away from the Kill but the sudden shift in targets caused Ghest to release his bomb early. The heavy energy weapon slammed into the Assaulter's heavy armor to little effect. Khardax, releasing at the same time as Star Scream, had better luck when his bomb pierced the stern armor protecting one of the reactor rooms, but it was Star Scream's bomb that would prove the fatal blow today.

His bombsight lined up perfectly with the square lower hangar. He held his climb as long as he could. Sailors and droids started to panic and scatter as they saw his onrushing attack. With the racked TIE in his scope, he gave Tonks the release signal. "Maclunkey!"

Tonks released the heavy bomb at two thousand meters, fused to ensure a four-meter penetration of Star Destroyer grade durasteel. Star Scream was absolutely sure they had secured a hit in the forward part of the hanger next to the prime launch rack.

He didn't have time to judge the effects of his attack as the TIE pilot yanked back hard on the flight stick. Ghent and Khardax's bombers on his flanks, the three bombers pulled out of their climb and just narrowly missed the starboard side of the massive ship. Star Scream flipped his bomber over onto its back and a second later was zipping above the Star Destroyer.

He raced ahead of the ship's defenses erupting in his wake and flashed past the ship's bridge. He spotted three officers staring back at the bombers as they flew by. He wasn't sure but he thought one of them was wearing aurodium-plated Stormtrooper armor. Behind his TIE/sa a powerful blast exploded through the dorsal armor in the center of the ship's hull. His bomb had delivered a fatal blow which had pierced the Resurgent from keel to top deck.

))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

FOS Kill

))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

Within the instant a Kill lookout shouted, "TIE bombers!" Commander Datoo, Kill's FlightOps officer, felt a moment's professional admiration. Splendid was their tactic, he thought, of climbing out from the direction of Tau Ceti and taking advantage of the 7th Fleet components' focus on the doomed torpedo carriers above them.

He had been standing in the main sensor station at the base of the superstructure and dove flat as the scream from the TIE bombers rose to a banshee-like wail. For some reason, the Imperials' attention, except for three bombers that had veered off towards the Assaulter, had been almost completely drawn to his Resurgent. He would have been flattered in any other situation.

The first three energy bombs missed their target. Then, as the fourth bomber closed within three thousand meters to release, flung its bomb starboard aft of the launch hanger directly below the reloading and storage areas and amidst the TIEs massed for takeoff. Instantly the flight deck was a holocaust. As the parked TIEs tilted over on their crumpled panels or forward onto their noses, the pilot-filled ball cockpits formed chimney flumes spurting flame and smoke.

The next two bombs failed to penetrate the ventral armor, and in this slight refuse, Datoo raced to the bridge, where Captain Orthna stood staring into the Void as if she could not take in what was happening. Datoo reported all passages below were afire and much of the crew were trapped behind fire-proof blast doors. The power chose that moment to cut off, pitching the bridge into the glow of dim, red emergency lights.

"Captain, you must leave the bridge and join the rest of your staff in the anchor bridge. It's too dangerous up here. The shields are already failing." Datoo urged.

"I will remain at my station." Orthna vowed and dismissed Datoo with a wave of her gloved hand.

Datoo left the bridge to attempt contact with the engine rooms through the officer ready rooms. Later when he did return, there was no more bridge, no more Orthna.

In his absence, the seventh and eighth bomber had struck near each other in the main hangar next to the armory turbolift. One of these crashed through the turbolift and exploded among the TIEs on the hangar deck. Those TIE had been armed, fueled and were ready to be lifted into the launch racks for the Jury Wave, destined never to take off. Datoo saw a fourth bomb explode directly over the head of the Kill's TIE Maintenance Commander, and curiously enough the sight steadied his nerves and engendered a certain objectivity. All troopers of the First Order must eventually die, and this was the way he'd like to go, in one instantaneous flash.

What did fall upon his head was command of the Kill, for the fifth direct hit struck the tibanna transfer hoists at the base of the superstructure, and flaming debris climbed up the sloping tower, eviscerating thousands of her crew and burning away everyone that had remained on the bridge.

That left Datoo senior officer aboard, and he devoted all his energies into directing the firefighting, in the hope that the Resurgent might still be saved. That hope was in vain. The ninth Imperial energy bomb delivered the last hit, landing almost directly amidships far to the stern and killed seven of the eight massive Gemon ion engines, and was almost redundant, for without light or power Datoo's efforts were doomed to failure.

Revenge corvettes drifted slowly alongside as some of the wounded were taken off the stricken ship. All of the ship's shuttles were destroyed in the attack and soon several life pods were being launched without orders.

The damage control parties whom Datoo had organized fought desperately to halt the spreading flames. But realizing the end was near, Datoo ordered the ships droids to continue the futile fight while the surviving crew abandoned ship. He was not sure if the Revenges had enough space for them all but there was still the Maxima-A Heavy cruisers and the other Resurgents out there to pick them up.

Their last act was to remove the official portraits of Supreme Leader Vala Ren and Kylo Ren, which they transferred reverently over to the nearby CENN Waterloo. They only got away just in time; soon afterwards two mighty explosions ripped through Kill's hull and she began to roll to port away from the rest of the Combined Fleet.

She burned away in a hiss of hypermatter flames and explosions, more than a third of her seventy-thousand strong crew went up in flames with her.

)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

FOS Sinister

)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

The TIE/sa of Bomber Five from the Flood had nearly been the last Imperial TIEs launched from Banjeer's taskforce. Unlike the other bomber squadrons, they hadn't gotten lost on their way to the enemy fleet and had instead flown in a very direct line from their Star Destroyer to the position of the enemy, arriving at nearly the same moment as Apex's Bomber Four from the Slash.

As Captain Maboloth was watching bombs impact the nearby Kill, fifteen unseen bombers squared off against his Sinister. Their pilots had seen Bomber Four going after the Kill and the Assaulter, while far rimward the Hatred was still busy dodging torpedo attacks from the doomed torpedo carriers. They did not realize they were the third prong of a triple attack that could not have been better coordinated had all concerned rehearsed it for months.

Five direct hits and three very near misses were scored almost immediately. The Sinister never even had the chance to return fire before the bombs struck her belly. Of the three Resurgents hit in the attack, the Sinister suffered the most prompt, intensified damage.

At nearly the same time as Star Scream veered off for the Assaulter, three direct hits in as many seconds neatly lined up along the Sinister's port side, triggering ferocious deck fires as well as induced explosions in the bomb-storage, proton torpedo-storage along with the tibanna and hypermatter tanks.

Another hit crashed through the TIE launch racks just in front of the main hangar, enveloping most of the flight deck. The third struck underneath the starboard heavy turbolaser turrets, directly into their tibanna heavy-bolt transfer lines.

Fires enveloped the ship in no time. As the flames roared and crackled, officers shouted commands up and down the powered-down turbolift shafts. Captain Maboloth sent runners to all sections of the ship, most of whom died performing their tasks, urging his sailors to save themselves. Obviously, no living thing could last much longer on the Sinister. Below decks, heat so infernal that it melted and warped the hangar deck blast doors drove survivors upwards. The tractor beam station at the bow became an impromptu hospital where medical and surgical droids, along with human corpsmen worked, ignoring the choking smoke, to give pain-relieving stims and the last of their bacta to those badly injured, bandaging and stopping bleeding where they could. Those beyond hope had to be left unattended to save those who had a chance for life.

A large group of sailors were massed by the stern thrusters with a number of officers and droids, including EB-9, who had miraculously survived the apocalypse on the flight deck. A terrific, induced explosion defenestrated hundreds of them out the back of the ship and into the Void. The little droid watched for several seconds as the sentients struggled and gasped for air before their life-signs powered down. Three days later, his power core ran out of energy, and surrounded by a floating graveyard, EB-9 did the same, one last time.

Exactly a quarter hour passed from the first hit on Sinister until Captain Maboloth ordered, "Abandon ship." The main engines were stopped, the steering system inoperable and the fire mains were gone. Fifteen short minutes had transformed Sinister from a smart, proud Resurgent to a burned-out crematorium. The Revenges, Thermopylae and Agincourt, hovered nearby to pick up survivors, rescuing a few in evo-suits from the Void, while others were able to go over in life pods and Confederate and First Order shuttles.

During the process, someone noticed Captain Maboloth was not with them, and checking his locator detected that their commander was still up in the bridge. Consternation swept the crewmen when they realized that he meant to go down with the ship. Supreme Leader Ren would have their heads if they allowed him to do so. On top of that, Maboloth was one of the best loved and most respected skippers in the 7th Fleet of Conquest, and the troopers resolved to rescue him in spite of himself. They deputized Chief Petty Officer Cardinal, the 7th Fleet's Teräs Käsi champion, to bring the Captain to safety, by force if necessary.

Cardinal did his best. He climbed back up the superstructure to the bridge. He saluted his Captain and said, "Captain, I have come on behalf of all your sailors to take you to safety. They are waiting for you. Please come with me to the Earthling corvette, sir."

Maboloth kept staring at something in his hand. When Cardinal peered over the shorter officer's shoulder, he noticed the Captain was looking at a holoimage of himself, along with his wife and two small younglings. Cardinal felt a lump in his throat. All dependents of the 7th Fleet had been lost on the day they made that mysterious hyperjump from the Home Galaxy. Doggedly, Cardinal advanced on him to pick the Captain up bodily in his great muscular arms when Maboloth turned slowly. He did not utter a word, but his eyes stopped Cardinal in his tracks. The sailor saluted and left his Captain. As he moved away, tears smarting in his eyes, he could hear Maboloth softly singing Palpatine Imperium, the anthem of the First Order.

Cardinal was able to make it over to the Agincourt as the Maxima-A heavy cruiser Heave also pulled alongside to help the two small Revenges pull off more survivors. Together they pulled off fifteen thousand crew from the Sinister before a series of explosions and fires discouraged them from getting too close. Nearly forty minutes after Bomber Five's attack, the Sinister exploded, taking most of her crew with her. Preceding the Kill's death by two hours, the Sinister accounted for the day's largest loss of lives and made the day dark indeed for the First Order.

)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

FOS Assaulter

))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

General Crisis had just recognized the shape of three TIE/sa breaking off from the attack on the Kill displayed on the bridge's battle zone holoprojector, when three blue objects fell away from the climbing airspeeders and seemed to float leisurely toward Assaulter.

The first bomb did not penetrate the heavy ventral armor along the bottom of the warship and exploded on the surface. The impact, however, could be felt all the way up in the bridge as a sudden violent shaking threw several officers to the deck.

The second bomb hit squarely in the main hangar launch racks, twisting it like a piece of futuristic sculpture and flinging the machinery across the flight deck. Certain that the third bomb would be even more devastating, Crisis and Akfar followed Captain Setrauss's lead and dropped to the floor of the bridge. Crisis rolled over onto his stomach, pressed his face to the deck and crossed his arms over his head for protection. The actual sound of the impact was not quite as strong as the first, but its detonation tossed everyone a half meter off the deck.

It had pierced the hull and exploded deep in the maintenance bays of the auxiliary hangar, full of reloading TIE Whispers from the Judge Wave. It was followed by a moment of uncanny silence as the three officers looked at each other in disbelief.

Normally, the two strikes should not have been fatal. But the Imperial bombers had caught the Resurgents with hangars full of armed and fueled TIE airspeeders, with others in the same conditions on the walls of the flight deck waiting to be lifted into the launch racks. Moreover, there had been no time to return the energy bombs to the fortified arsenal. It was a cascade of induced explosions from this stacked up destruction and a chain reaction of flaming TIE craft which would turn the Assaulter into what Crisis thought of as a burning hell.

"My god." Akfar gasped as he regained his feet. The Earthling was looking out the forward viewport at the Sinister. She, too, was sending out a billow of white smoke. Crisis didn't have a response. For once in his life both ideas and speech had been knocked out of him.

"We need to transfer command to another ship." Akfar suggested as the lamps blinked on and off overhead. Crisis looked down into the crew pit and noted that most of the stations were offline or without any power. The Earthling was right, you couldn't lead a fleet from a ship in this condition.

"The Kleanse is above us. I don't know if any of my shuttles survived down in the hangar from that hit, though." Setrauss suggested.

"Signal the Kleanse to send over their Griffin shuttle. We shall transfer the Admiral over to her." Crisis said.

"I'm staying here. I need to oversee the damage control of my ship." Setrauss stated. He squared away against the two other officers as if daring them to challenge his decision.

Crisis thought it was futile to stay. The ship might not be doomed but she was certainly knocked out of the battle and there was still the matter of that Imperial Star Destroyer out there. Which almost certainly wasn't alone as enough TIEs had attacked them to make up at least two ship complements of strike craft.

"You'll need to reach the gunnery station in front of the tower. There is an airlock there that can interact with a Griffin." Setrauss pointed out their escape route.

"Tell the Kleanse to send their shuttle immediately. It is a priority one mission for that crew." Akfar ordered.

Crisis looked one last time to Captain Setrauss, wondering if this was the last he would ever see of the older officer. He put his armored glove on the naval officer's shoulder. He promised, "I will have the Kleanse begin taking on the wounded as soon as we get aboard her."

"Thank you, General. Admiral." Then, with a flourish, the First Order Captain took a step back and saluted both of his commanders. "It's been an honor."

Crisis returned the salute and then led Akfar off the bridge. They had to take several ladders and stairwells as the turbolifts had been knocked off-line. They reached the hull after several minutes and started to move forward through the damaged ship. Sailors and troopers were running everywhere, and damage was evident throughout the ship. Wall panels were knocked from nearly every corridor and sparks fell freely from dozens of busted lamps. The temperature was much higher down here and even Crisis's body glove under his armor was having trouble keeping him cool.

Below decks, officers were trying to corral sailors to cover. The pilot's briefing room rapidly became an emergency hospital. When Crisis asked a Chief Petty Officer directing rescue efforts why they did not take the wounded to the sick bay, he learned that the entire lower ten decks were on fire. Crisis wondered if he could have made a side trip to retrieve some of his belongings from his cabin but realized that area of the ship was most likely destroyed.

Crisis added up the score as they moved forward. Nearly every officer wanted to stop them and report some damage or another to the Assaulter. Didn't they understand they had a fleet to lead, and yes, while the damage to the Assaulter was nerve-rackingly upsetting, she might still be saved if they got back to their duties?

He soon learned that the CommScan and subspace antennas had been destroyed, making any communication back to Kafrene Outpost and Admiral Jethran's fleet impossible. Despite prompt decompression and exposure to vacuum of the forward tibanna and bomb storage rooms and activating carbon dioxide fire-fighting foam hoses, matters were rapidly getting out of hand. The steering thrusters were out of commission, the reactors stopped and all hands were ordered by Captain Setrauss over the PA audicasters to their fire-fighting stations.

Ten minutes after leaving the bridge, not only was the Assaulter not answering her thrusters but there was no sign of life down in the engine rooms. The ship was adrift, with her bow still pointed in the direction of Moxxi Two's spotting report as though she was getting ready to launch the TIEs which were burning and exploding down in her hangar. The dynamos died and the lamps went out, and without available power converters the fire-foam pumps could no longer operate. Fire-fighting sailors wearing RescueOps bronze helmets and fire suppression backpacks with handheld hose blasters, rolled large hoses down to the burning decks. As they staggered over the charred corpses of their comrades, explosions every few seconds wounded or killed more of them. Others took their place, to be killed in turn by other explosions.

Med droids and corpsmen worked in suffocating heat and blinding smoke. The medical orderlies donned spare Stormtrooper helmets to see in the haze. The clothing of the wounded crew began to smolder as they lay on the deck. Some of them began to scream as, laying with broken bones on the burning decks, they started to fry alive. The lucky ones were strapped to make-shift stretchers and moved to the airlocks in the hope there would be enough evacuation shuttles to carry them to the escorts. Crisis wondered if there was enough room aboard the Space Force starships for all of them. Thank Snoke's Soul, the Hatred hadn't been hit as far as he knew.

Officers shouted at the corpsmen to move the wounded out of the General and Admiral's way when they reached the gunnery station. TIE/es assault shuttles circled outside the air lock waiting for clearance to approach. The few First Order shuttles from the Maxima-A cruisers were outnumbered by the Rhino Beetle shuttles from the Space Force escorts. Crisis quickly figured there wasn't enough to get everyone off. A First Lieutenant signaled the Griffin from the Kleanse ahead of the others and swooped in to connect with the airlock. General Crisis and Admiral Akfar rushed aboard followed by a large entourage of senior officers and the Admiral's aides.

The flight over to the Kleanse was a matter of a few minutes and the Griffin was able to dock inside the cruiser's small shuttle hangar. The ship's officers were already there to meet them and led them immediately to the bridge. Akfar then reestablished contact with the rest of the fleet and notified them that he was resuming command of the Combined Fleet. While he was doing so, Crisis checked in on the Assaulter.

By this time, all of the Assaulter's TIEs were either burning or had blown up, and the last of the surviving TIE crews were being transferred to the circling Revenges. Setrauss called from the bridge of the Assaulter and notified them that there was no possibility of the ship maneuvering under her own power. Along her hull, the giant Resurgent was blazing from stem to stern. Crisis forbade it, but after signing off Captain Setrauss ordered the Assaulter to be abandoned. Perhaps he was ingrained with some sort of Old Republic sense of honor or had a healthy fear of Supreme Leader Ren, but Setrauss radioed over that he, and his bridge crew, were staying aboard and going down with the ship.

Crisis balled his hands into fists and punched the subspace radio in front of him. Within the past hour the First Order had lost untold numbers of its finest officers with nothing to replace them except Confederates. They might as well use clones, he feared, not knowing where in this Galaxy he'd ever find cloners.

))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

Maxima-A Heavy Cruier, FOS Kleanse, Combined Allied Fleet

))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

Captain Bratt welcomed them to the Kleanse and handed over all of his comm staff to the General and Admiral's disposal. The battlefield was vastly different from the last time Crisis had seen it. Three Resurgents, the Assaulter, Kill and Sinister all burned furiously. White and blue hypermatter flames bubbled around each of the red, hot hulls and great clouds of smoke drifted away from each of the wrecks.

How had such a catastrophe occurred? Crisis recalled how their focus had been on the attacks coming in on the superior angle and how they hadn't been paying attention to the space inferior to the fleet. How could the Imperials have been so bloodthirsty to sacrifice so many brave crew in those earlier futile attacks just so they could coordinate that devastating bombing strike? Admiral Gentis or Vertitas, the assumed Imperial commanders, must be the coldest, most ruthless bastard since Darth Vader.

"Captain Bratt, I need to be put through to Admiral Jethran at Kafrene Outpost, immediately." Crisis told the Kleanse's commander.

"General, I cannot comply with your orders. The fleet is under complete signal blackout until we have confirmation of the enemy's . . ." Captain Bratt started to protest.

"Do it now, Captain! Circumstances have changed and the Admiral needs to know what has happened here. Perhaps you'd rather give your objections to the Supreme Leader." Crisis warned, satisfied as he watched the color drain from the Captain's face at the thought of dealing with Vala Ren.

"I agree with the General. We must inform our other fleet elements at once of this trap." Admiral Akfar backed him up. Not that it mattered since both of them were actually Captain Bratt's superiors. He couldn't stop them if he tried.

"Very well." Bratt wiped his hands together as if he was absolving himself of any blame for violating security protocols.

Crisis entered his security code into the long-wave subspace transceiver and sent out a request call for the Admiral. Jethran was most certainly monitoring SigInt leaks of the battle from his place on the bridge of the distant Fatalizer. In fact, it merely took ten seconds before his visage appeared in the imageprojector. Jethran was dressed in a simple teal, gaberwool greatcoat with an off-white Grand Admiral's uniform underneath.

"This is a surprise. I can only assume this breach of protocol can either mean the Ares has been located or Target Alexandria has capitulated." Jethran glared down at them. He did not care for interruptions of his fine-tuned plans.

Well he wasn't going to care for what Crisis had to tell him either, the General thought. "Sir, there has been a significant setback. We've been ambushed by an unknown portion of the Imperial Fleet. The Kill, Sinister and the Assaulter have taken considerable damage."

"It was a trap." Akfar reiterated for the twentieth time since Moxxi Two reported the presence of an enemy Star Destroyer nearby.

"That would explain why you are contacting me from the bridge of a cruiser rather than a Resurgent." Jethran observed, the scowl on his face deepening.

"Indeed, sir. Admiral Akfar here transferred his flag only moments ago." Crisis explained and then laid out a general outline of what had happened from Commander Calatran's attack on New Thyfeeria to the planet-based bomber attack to Moxxi Two's report and then the two-pronged anvil attack from above and below that had breached the fleet's defenses and struck at the most critical moment.

"You must dispatch more ships from Kafrene Outpost, Admiral. The vast majority of our fleet there can arrive here in twenty minutes by lightspeed." Akfar urged.

"And what exactly would they be jumping into? You've located one enemy Star Destroyer, yet were attacked by numbers that coincide with two, perhaps three enemy Imperial class warships. If I had to guess, it's one of Gentis's pet Admirals aboard the Slash or Flood with perhaps the Quill along for the battle. For all you know the Empress herself could be commanding the enemy force like she did at the Battle of the Earth's Moon twenty years ago." Jethran pointed out.

"Perhaps you could release more Resurgents from your own force." Crisis suggested, knowing it was foolish to split their forces even more. The Ares could be waiting for just a move to ambush the Fatalizer and Mizery at Kafrene Outpost if they did something so foolish. His own 23rd Legion were sitting mynocks aboard those Confederate transports back there if the Super Star Destroyer showed up.

"I will do no such thing without knowing enemy dispositions. I take it the Hatred is still intact?" Jethran asked.

"Aye, sir. Captain Docius just signaled that all of his TIEs are ready to launch." Captain Bratt reported.

"Excellent. They are to dispatch the enemy Star Destroyer and its potential partner. Once that is done, we can once more consider moving the invasion fleet into the Kuat System for landings on Target Alexandria." Jethran explained.

"One Star Destroyer versus two?" Akfar exclaimed. Of course, he did not consider that the Empire had just wrecked his own fleet with similar odds.

"You forget those are pilots of the First Order aboard the Hatred. Now, gentlemen, you have a battle to win." Jethran waved them away dismissively with his right hand before his signal was cut off at the source.

"Get me Captain Docius!" Akfar pounded a frustrated fist down upon the machine. Bratt leaned forward and switched comm signals, connecting them to the Hatred. Docius was already there, anticipating their comm signal.

"Our TIEs are armed and loaded with full fuel tanks. Commander Calatran has his entire force on standby." The Hatred's commander reported.

"Attack the enemy Star Destroyers!" Crisis demanded.

Docius blinked. "All our TIEs are taking off now for the purpose of destroying the enemy Star Destroyers. But sir, your scout has located only one."

"Perhaps we should do a more thorough reconnaissance." Akfar hesitated. The man had no backbone and Crisis had had enough of him.

"The others will be found, Captain. They're surely in the same area as the discovered one. Launch your full force." Crisis told his First Order compatriot.

Crisis studied Akfar for a few seconds. The Earthling was a fool who was ill suited for grand battle. The loss of three ships proved it. The situation was tailor-made for the swashbuckling General's self-image. To turn defeat into victory, send his airspeeders dashing off to smear the Imperial task force which had dared to lay impious hands on the warships of the 7th Fleet of Conquest, single-handedly rescue Operation Matchstick and return to the Sol System with Akfar tagging along behind; an inglorious tail to the Crisis kite. This melodramatic vision suited Crisis right down to his boots.

Crisis keyed the fleet comm signal connecting with every warship in the combined fleet. The signal was probably being intercepted by the Imperial Navy as well, but it would take time to decrypt, and it wasn't like they didn't already know where they were. The burning wrecks of three nearby Resurgents attested to that. "We, with Hatred alone, are going to sacrifice ourselves to kill the stang enemy force. . ."

To the sailors and troopers who had remained below at their stations and hence saw nothing of the space action, the audicasters announced that the other three Resurgents had been damaged and that the Sinister, in particular, was burning badly. Crisis continued, "It is now up to the Hatred to carry on the fight for the glory of the First Order!"

)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

FOS Hatred

)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

Commander Calatran was caught in a limbo state between white-hot rage and utter shock. The pilots from Judge Wave that had returned to the Hatred were still with him. The ones that had flown to other vessels were still aboard those blazing Resurgents.

Three-fourths of his pilots were gone in less than two minutes. He hoped most of them made it to the escape pods and shuttles. Not a single Resurgent had launched a TIE after the Imperial bombers had sneaked into the fleet's defenses. He'd heard Commander Qurna had been injured and transferred off the Assaulter, but he had yet to learn of Commander Ekthar's fate over on the Sinister. He knew that Resurgent had been struck particularly hard. There was some scuttlebutt about still saving the Assaulter but Calatran sensed High Command was already writing off the Kill and Sinister as lost causes.

Calatran thought of his pilots. He had trained many of them himself and together they had all made it through the mysterious hyperjump to the Milky Way together. He whispered to himself and envisioned his distant Imperial target. "I am not going to let you die alone."

Forty-eight TIE/fb and sixteen TIE/vi Silencers and TIE/fo fighters, under the overall command of Calatran, completed takeoff within a minute of being ordered to launch. The bombers were divided into two equal squadrons, Calatran leading the first and his next senior pilot, Lieutenant Commander Horn leading the second. This force was top heavy with bombers and represented what Captain Docius could round up in a hurry. Respotting the TIEs of Calatran's Judge Wave severely limited the number of airspeeders immediately available to him. To leave the launch racks clear while the Judge Wave returned from Target Alexandria, Hatred had to move the Jury Wave TIEs, either far forward on the flight decks or raise them up into the maintenance hangars. Refueling and repair work were still in progress when the Imperial Star Destroyer-based bombers struck. When first Akfar, then Crisis ordered him to attack, Docius had no torpedo-carrying Whispers ready to join the TIE/fb in a well-balanced striking force. Rather than delay the attack, Docius launched what was available at the time.

Calatran commed the Earthling aboard the scout Moxxi Two. He didn't like having to rely on his inferior allies but had no choice at the moment. "Advise position of enemy Star Destroyers. Lead the attack force to it."

It took Moxxi Two six minutes before she responded. "The enemy is in position seventy degrees, distance ninety thousand kilometers from our fleet's position."

Calatran adjusted his bearing and lead the attack force towards Moxxi Two's last orientation. Five minutes later the Confederate scout once again commed back to the strike force. "Enemy force has at its nucleus three Star Destroyers. They are accompanied by ten escorts."

Though Moxxi Two was surely lumping all types of Imperial escorts into one category, in total figures she hit it right on the nose. As three Resurgents burned and exploded apart behind him, Calatran thought this vital information was fifty minutes late in reaching Akfar.

)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

INS Flood, Imperial Task Force

))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

"Incoming strike from the enemy fleet. Distance fifty-five thousand kilometers." The subspace radar technician yelled from the crew pit.

"Go to condition red. All troopers to their battle stations." Admiral Banjeer shouted his commands, snapping officers and sailors into action. "Notify the Slash and Quill to keep their distance. We'll take them ourselves."

Isoto had one issue with that. "Sir, we could really use their fighter cap."

"Pull them off their stations and send them at those First Order bishwags along with your bucketheads." Banjeer conceded. He was still attempting to conceal his true numbers from the combined enemy fleet and liked to keep his sabacc close to his chest.

"All attack squadrons are back aboard, sir." The FlightOps station reported.

"Cycle Stalgis and Fighter Five back out there the second they've got fuel and tibanna." Banjeer ordered. Far below them Fighter Five was swarmed with deck crew and KX-Series droids who turned the Interceptors around in a matter of minutes. Tibanna and fuel flooded into the machines as corpsmen reached down into the cockpits to administer stims and give the pilot's a few foodstuff bars. Two Interceptors belonging to Lieutenants Zahn and August were only back aboard for five minutes, in which time they tried to explain to anyone that would listen to their new tactic for successfully dealing with enemy fighters.

Bombers and torpedo carriers were pushed aside to allow the Interceptors to be spotted quickly in the TIE racks. Soon they were spilling out of the bottom of the Flood's hangar like a swarm of angry piranha beetles.

Banjeer and Isoto stood at the forward viewport staring off in the direction of the attack. Within seconds Fighter Five was joined by their compatriots from Fighter One and Four and they circled at the edge of visual range of the Star Destroyer and awaited their adversaries.

Banjeer's concentration on the battle was interrupted by the appearance of the Jedi Padawan, Teshlo, at his side. "Excuse me, Admiral. Where do you want me to focus the Force right now?"

Banjeer considered the Kessurian. Reports had already reached him regarding the effects of her so-called Battle Meditation. The staggered launch of the TIE/sa squadrons had scattered his attack craft across the system. Bomber One from the Quill had never even reached the enemy fleet. Flight Leaders had relayed stories of their pilots feeling groggy or cloudy headed during takeoff. They missed commands to lift off and failed to rendezvous with the other squadrons upon leaving the ship. They had been practicing and drilling for such simple maneuvers ever since Nal Kuat, the only thing that had changed was the Jedi's influence.

But being an Admiral in the Imperial Navy came with other considerations. He couldn't just ignore the Padawan, especially the Padawan of Grand Master, Ashla Ti. For the fiftieth time today, he wished he had never been saddled with the Jedi on such a critical day. The Empress and the Prime Chancellor were huge supporters of the new Temple, and it wouldn't serve his career well if it became known that he had refused the Temple's help when the fate of the Empire was on the line. Of course, that didn't mean he should continue to give her tasks that endangered the fleet's ability to strike back.

"I need the enemy pilots to focus on this ship alone. The Slash and the Quill should be the least of their worries." Banjeer told the young Padawan, who nodded vigorously in understanding.

"If all of them aim for this ship, won't some of them break through your fighter cover, Admiral?" Teshlo pondered, proving she wasn't a complete stoopa.

"Inevitably, their TIEs are more advanced than ours, though we have a slight numerical superiority at the moment. If they manage to land strikes against the Flood I want you to help the damage control parties. The ship must be able to retrieve and launch TIEs as long as possible." Banjeer said.

"Admiral, don't you think it would be wiser to have Padawan Teshlo assist the medical corps? We're bound to have significant casualties if we're hit." Captain Isoto suggested.

"I understand the need, but keeping the ship in action is my highest priority. I trust our corpsmen will be sufficient to deal with our expected wounded. That's what they're here for, after all." Banjeer had the utmost faith in his sailors, about as much as the Jedi had in the Force.

Perhaps, sensing her first attempt at Battle Meditation had been less than satisfactory, the Padawan looked eager to cover up her former lackluster performance. "A Jedi uses the Force for knowledge and defense, never for attack. Your ship will stay together. I can sense it in the Light side."

The Jedi spun around and jumped down into the crew pit, immediately seeking out the commander in charge of the damage control parties and the subspace radar technician. Isoto raised an eyebrow. "Well, that's comforting, I'm guessing."

"It will keep her busy." Banjeer forgot about the Jedi for now, His attention was already drawn to the appearance of First Order attackers in the distance.

The enemy TIE/fo and Silencers raced forward and dove on the few Imperial TIE/sa bombers still waiting to land aboard the Flood. They had dived on the bombers, chased by Interceptors from Fighter Five. The ensuing vape fight was epic while it lasted, superior First Order TIEs versus more Imperial TIEs. Other Interceptors now tore into First Order bombers in an effort to break up their formations. Anti-airspeeder blasters on the Star Destroyer and nearby Arquitens light cruiser, Yutu, opened fire to put a curtain of plasma ahead of the Flood.

Twenty of the TIE/fb were blown apart by the Interceptors. But there were not enough Imperial fighters to stop some of the bombers from getting through. Three more were disabled as they tried to pierce the flak curtain in front of the Yutu, while another dropped his bomb harmlessly next to the Flood's bow tractor beam projector and then blew apart before he could climb out of his dive.

One group of three bombers fell afoul of Strikeout and Vyvya. Strikeout fixed the leader in her sights and pressed the blasting stub at three hundred meters. Six bolts found the target, which spiraled away in flames. Flipping over to the left Vyvya gave the second bomber a short rat-tat-tat at a mere hundred meters. The enemy blew up almost under Strikeout's nose, which bounced her little Interceptor. The third raced away to hide behind the Yutu, but Strikeout got him before he could reach safety.

But twelve of Calatran's original forty-eight bombers survived and that was enough. Flood's gunners now took over the defense. The TIE/fo bombers came in on a curving path individually, which baffled the gunners until the TIEs actually started their dives. Bolts from all the automatic turrets on the starboard side opened up on the first bomber to scream down, chopping it into three large pieces which fell close past the Star Destroyer's starboard quarter. But the bomb dropped as well, tumbling into the dorsal hull some five meters inboard of Heavy Turret Four, killing twenty-three gunners and wounding eighteen more. Uninjured sailors hastened to replace the casualties and the blasters continued firing without pause, although much reduced in volume.

Punching a hole three meters square in the top armor, the delayed timer bomb dropped all the way to the shuttle storage hangar. There it started fires in two Lambdas. The fire-suppression system quickly ignited the sprinkler system which extinguished the blaze in seconds.

Expert gunnery shredded the next TIE bomber to dive just as the pilot released his bomb. It whistled down for a near miss close astern, exploding by proximity fuse, while pieces of the TIE including the pilot's corpse flash fried away as they made contact with the Flood's main thruster. Durasteel splinters ripped off by the near miss killed and wounded a number of sailors manning the stern turrets and started several small fires in the engineering access corridors near the aft-port thrusters.

A group of First Order bombers came in from port, but only one released its bomb before crashing harmlessly into the Star Destroyer's port side. Fortunately, for the Flood, the bomb carried a delayed action fuse. Before it detonated, the missile hurtled through the crew billet decks and the pilot cabins, where the unexploded bomb hit the big caf percolator, that oasis of every Imperial office, leaving the rooms awash in brown liquid. Then it thudded through on its path of destruction and finally exploded upon reaching the engineering section. The concussion ruptured One, Two and Three Reactors. The Star Destroyer speed immediately dropped to six hundred knots and within five minutes was falling well behind the rest of the maneuvering fleet.

Meanwhile, the third and last strike came from below and hit the main hangar's ceiling, before punching through four decks and exploding in the material storage bins, next to the fuel storage and tibanna magazine. Damage control officers were on the scene immediately and their teams pitched in with intense vigor in battling the blaze, which would have sent Flood up in a ball of flame had it reached the nearby inflammables. Sprinklers from the water storage were used to flood the magazine and submerge the tibanna tanks.

Those three hits on Flood were not particularly serious and even Banjeer had to tip his hat towards the Padawan who meditated behind him on the bridge. Thanks to prompt action of the damage control personnel, carpenters rushed to the holes in the deck and patched them up. Great durasteel shutters rolled over the gashes in the side of the shop and repressurized the penetrated sections. Engineers and reactor troopers worked wonders, ignoring the stifling heat, choking fumes, leaking radiation and constant danger of being blown to bits, and soon worked up enough power to swing the auxiliary power plants into operation. Flood was back in commission in slightly over an hour.

One hour and ten minutes after losing her speed and being struck, Isoto hyperwaved the rest of the fleet. "My speed is .03 sublight." A spontaneous cheer rang out from every warship in the Flood's escort, encircling her in a golden ring of joy and affection which warmed the cockles of Isoto's heart. He immediately plotted a course back to Nal Kuat for repairs and began transferring his fighters and bombers to the remaining two Star Destroyers in the task force.

In the meantime, Admiral Banjeer had moved his flag to the Yutu, along with his command staff and the Padawan Teshlo who seemed most accustomed to tagging along with people in command. The Flood was no longer practical as a flagship, although in no immediate danger. The decision was sensible and unsentimental, in true Banjeer style. It was better for all concerned that he and his staff part company with Captain Isoto and his crew, each to pursue his own business unencumbered.

For both Banjeer and Isoto, as well as Crisis and Akfar and every sailor and trooper aboard the two opposing fleets, knew the battle was still far from finished.