Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Seed or Star Wars. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not created with a commercial aim. I make no money from it.
Phase 27: Victory, you say?
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Part 3
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CIC
Mandator II Star Dreadnought "The Pride of the Core"
Namaryne System
It didn't take Obi-Wan long at all to figure out exactly what was happening. Unfortunately, doing something constructive about it was easier said than done.
"Coms, hail Rear Admiral Falconer. The vanguard will execute a hyperspace insertion one light second behind Admiral Yularen's fleet an advance to cut off and destroy any Separatist ships that break through. As soon as the enemy capital ships are neutralized I want reinforcements flowing into any of our ships which are being boarded." The Jedi Master began issuing orders. "I want an Ion Cannon heavy Task Force formed ASAP to neutralize any of our ships that might fall into enemy hands. Fleet Captain Choba will be in charge of it."
At that, Kenobi's staff went to work with a vengeance. Their quiet murmurs created a permanent buzz in the back of the CIC, which was the Fleet Commander's domain.
"Further, I want three scout groups to leave for Corellia ASAP and report the status of the system on arrival." While Obi-Wan was reasonably sure that Admiral Trench wasn't about to throw everything he had against Namaryne in a nearly suicidal attempt to overwhelm the Republic forces here before Veil broke free into the Core, he wouldn't be certain of it for at least a few more minutes. Kenobi wouldn't put it past Trench to feint a retreat by executing a short-range hyperspace jump, then turn around and head back, while the Republic forces here were in disarray, racing to deal with his latest audacious trick.
First, the distance was close enough thanks to the hyperlane linking Namaryne and Corellia for something like that to be feasible. Second, a large part of the Republic forces concentrated in this system still weren't properly trained in large scale fleet maneuvers. That was one of the primary reasons why Operation Stardust was so important. The alternative was to throw everything the Republic had at Trench and the fixed defenses at Corellia, then hope that Veil could compensate through Battle Meditation for insufficient training. During a battle of that scale, Veil might not be able to maintain his technique for long enough. In that case, the odds were excellent that a Republic victory at Corellia might turn into crippling bloodbath, both military and politically. True, that was the worst-case scenario, however after personally experiencing the situation on Coruscant and meeting with their "allies", Obi-Wan was convinced that such bloody battles should be avoided at all costs if at all possible. The alliance keeping the Republic afloat was a fragile thing, there were already too many secessionists behind their back which had to be watched at all times. The Republic fracturing even further, might spell doom for them all and achieving too bloody military victories was one way to cause it.
The simple truth was that Obi-Wan had few illusions left, even if he fought tooth and nail not to admit it even to himself. He knew that right now the Republic was practically dead, held together by an unstable mix of self-interest, power hungry people and fear. It was precisely what the Separatists accused the Republic of being at the start of the war, with the obvious exception that it wasn't under the control of the Sith, but instead Satine played the role of a cat herder.
All that was left was to rebuild something better from the ashes and keep the Separatists contained.
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CIC
Kuati Battle cruiser "Brilliant Shield"
Namaryne System
Only a light tightening around the eyes betrayed how Admiral Yularen felt. Deploying his fleet in a loose formation, with ships barely in a mutually supportive range was the right call when one faced an enemy eager to use ramming tactics. Doing so ensured that your forces would have the space to safely maneuver and make themselves much harder targets for a physical intercept. The downside was that doing so significantly diminished the impact of networked Guardian systems. A fleet in tight formation would have weathered the assault Yularen's command faced much better, shooting down many more of the boarding parties the Separatists unleashed against him. Perhaps almost all of them. However, doing so would have risked allowing the enemy to ram a not insignificant number of ships. It was a trade-off really. Perhaps dividing the fleet in multiple small battle groups which would hold a tight formation themselves while keeping significant distance from the closest support elements?
It didn't help that any other conceivable enemy would not have even thought about pulling off something like that. Preliminary estimates put the losses among the CIS boarding units in the hundreds of thousands, before they actually reached any of the Republic ships. It wasn't a tactic anyone sane would have proposed when using actual people as troops. Yet, in hindsight it was logical for the CIS to do something this crazy. Their droids were utterly expendable after all. He should have thought about it, figured out a counter.
He didn't and now thousands, tens of thousands of the people he was responsible for were dying.
It wasn't all bad, or one sided. A large part of Yularen's formation slowly collapsed inward, ensuring that he could use his numbers to best effect and maximize the available firepower at the points of contact between the two fleets. It was working too, the Separatists ships were nearly invisible due to the firepower their shields struggled to absorb and reflect. More and more of them failed due to the continued onslaught, armor boiled or ablated, weapons systems and sensors became little more than a slag. Ship after ship fell out of formation due to damage to their engines making them unable to maintain acceleration.
Yularen didn't need to look at the tactical plot to know what would happen next. Ships from the outer part of his formation would swing to engage those cripples and ensure they would not remain a threat for long. They were really an afterthought. The core of the Separatist fleet heading straight for his command squadron on the other hand was another matter. It contained two captured Corellian Cruisers, which when intact were more than a match for the older, if upgraded Battle cruiser he used as a flagship.
The incoming enemy ships were far from intact, even if patched by the Separatists, at least Yularen hoped so. The droids piloting them did their best to match the maneuvers of his command squadron, and the Admiral knew deep in his bones that evading them was going to be hard. While a Venator wasn't particularly maneuverable ship, compared to smaller vessels anyway, it was infinitely more agile than a Battle cruiser or old Star Dreadnought. The saving grace there was the fact that the Corellian Cruisers weren't the most maneuverable ships out there either.
In the end, Yularen was little more than a passenger in his own Flagship, when she came to grips with the enemy. The two heavy battle groups passed through each other shooting all the way at high speed. Fortunately, there were no physical impacts, not quite. When one of the Corellian Cruisers passed close enough for their shields to intersect, stripping them out in the near collision, the Brilliant Shield shook, her gravity generators and internal compensators straining to keep her crew from splattering all over the bulkheads. For a few brief moments, the two ships shot at each other for all they were worth without deflectors to intercept the shots.
The heavy armor belts held, mostly. Weapons, sensors and all other equipment mounted on their hulls on the sides that faced the onslaught weren't so fortunate. The odd heavily armored weapon emplacement survived, while everything else turned into slag when subjected to enough firepower to depopulate a continent. This included the Umbrella and Guardian systems, which allowed swarms of boarding craft launched at the last moment by the Separatist battle group to reach various stricken Republic ships.
Alarms blared in the Battle cruiser's CIC and Admiral Yularen cracked open an eye. He could feel the straps holding him safely in his seat dig painfully in his shoulders, while blood rushed in his head. He could feel fluctuating pressure, a tell-tale sing of malfunctioning gravity generators, before the artificial pull stabilized and came from the right direction, though quite a bit lower than a standard gravity.
"Status report!" Yularen's voice cracked, in no small part due to the strong coppery taste filling his mouth.
"Heavy damage on the starboard side. Power surges detected all over the ship." A gruff voice came from the left. "Shields are down, we've got fluctuations in the gravity generators and inertial dampeners. Moderate to heavy casualties among not secured personnel…"
Like the security teams racing to lock down critical positions in case of enemy boarders.
"We're being boarded." Another voice reported.
Yularen shook his head in a futile attempt to clear it.
"If comms are still up, Rear Admiral Tolev is to assume command of the fleet." Yularen croaked. Breathing was becoming harder, and there was more blood in his mouth.
"Aye, sir." A different, familiar voice, announced. "Admiral Tolev is to assume command of the fleet." The Comm officer repeated among fits of coughing.
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Part 4
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CIC
CWS Firefront
Namaryne System
The Corellian Cruiser shook, throwing thousands of B1 droids against the nearest hard surface. Many of them didn't get back, vanishing from the tattered battle network linking up the Confederate fleet. What was left of it anyway. The network began unraveling as soon as the Confederate ships neared their Republic enemies due to intensive jamming, a problem that grew worse and worse when the fleets intersected. Ships falling out of formation or being outright destroyed due to concentrated enemy firepower, it didn't matter, the effect on the network was the same. Their loss tore vast gaping holes in the formerly pristine interconnected mesh, and for the first time, TK-A-31 experienced something akin to pain.
He felt something that might have been hatred too. He wasn't sure. All TK-A-31 knew then and there, when the whole cruiser shook nearly apart, was that the network was nearly completely dark; that countless of his brethren were gone, or about to be destroyed. He almost ended up destroyed too, and it was all his fault. The Tactical Droid couldn't develop a better alternative given the parameters he had to operate under. Thus, he found himself resenting those constrains, loathing the enemy that forced the current tactical and strategic situation.
He wasn't particularly thrilled with the Confederacy for wasting their chance to end the war long before they built him in the first place, just like he resented all the mishaps that led to this doomed, suicidal operation.
Only magnetic clamps and clawing at a console kept TK-A-31 from flying sideways into a bulkhead when the Firefront began spinning nearly out of control. The damage caused by enemy firepower and his last minute brainstorm was critical, dooming the ship in the long run. Using all tractor beams that could touch the enemy Battle cruiser sounded like a good idea less than a minute ago. The brief moment of holding onto a speeding super capital ship was more than enough to vaporize them and cause power-surges throughout half the ship. That combined with the short point-blank slugging match was enough to wreck the already damaged Firefront.
The fact that the enemy Battle cruiser hadn't fared much better, was no comfort at all to TK-A-31. Crippling the crew of that super capital ship was nice, yet currently irrelevant. His fleet was all but gone, only two Battleships and handful of frigates that somehow survived the point-blank encounter could keep up with the Corellian Cruiser. Firefront's sister ship few behind, listing, but not quite spinning out of control. She found herself bracketed by two super-capital ships coming perilously close to colliding with a dreadnought, which barely managed to avoid her. The result was a brief, apocalyptic exchange of firepower which struck something within the refurbished ship, crippling her.
It was time, TK-A-31 decided, even as more than a hundred Republic Cruisers, complete with escorts, appeared in front of his shattered command. He didn't bother with verbal orders. The limited still intact section of the battle net linking him with the remaining droids under his command was up to the task. The few surviving escorts accelerated even faster, disregarding all safety concerns and threw themselves at the approaching enemy fleet. The Firefront's helmsman did it's best to stabilize the ship and steer her in such a way that her sheer bulk would act as a shield between the oncoming enemy and the surviving hangars, where TK-A-31's way out of certain destruction awaited his arrival.
Four minutes. That was how long it took TK-A-31 to reach an intact hangar containing a hyperspace capable fighter. In that time-span, the enemy reduced his remaining fleet to glowing wreckage drifting through space. The two crippled, yet still dangerous Corellian Cruisers remain the notable exception. Firefront shook, using hundreds of decks as ablative armor. Her sister ship ponderously turned around just in time to confront against the leading elements of Admiral Yularen's fleet. Said warships had enough time to swing around, bleed off velocity and accelerate in pursuit. Escorts and Cruisers exchanged torrent of brightly colored turbolaser bolts. Even with her shields in tatters, the Corellian Cruiser could both take and dish out damage. The lighter ships slowly began swarming her were tough, yet they were never meant to face against such a behemoth by themselves. Unfortunate escorts burned, crippled Venators fell out of formation with large pieces of their hulls turned into little more than cooling slag. Yet they kept coming, and two of the three nearby Super Capital ships were in the process of turning around. Their maneuvers were slow, ponderous, yet inevitable, and when they completed their turns, it would be merely a matter of time before they overwhelmed the crippled Corellian Cruisers.
There was just one little problem. A number of Republic ships drifted in random direction, as often as not, shooting at anything in range. They lashed at their own, forcing evasive maneuvers, causing damage and in more than a few cases, fratricide. The resulting confusion and forced reactions were just what TK-A-31 needed to board his escape craft and launch, surrounded by the last few squadrons left on board the Firefront. Guardian systems lashed at him, and Vultures sacrificed themselves intercepting incoming fire. It was close, just moments before the jaws of the Republic closed around the Firefront, surrounding her and battering her to scrap, TK-A-31 jumped into hyperspace.
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Kuati Battle cruiser "Brilliant Shield"
Namaryne System
Distant, repeating sound echoed in his ears. It was a familiar one, perhaps even important, however he couldn't recall why. Dull ache gripped his body and soon turned into an acute piercing pain coming from his side. He could perceive something beyond the repeating, monotonous sound and a moment later, he stiffened as something ice-cold pierced him. The odd sensation spread through his body, and the world came into focus a sharp and painful manner. The sounds cleared up, becoming distinct, different, and terribly familiar. A ship-wide alarm nearly drowned everything else, yet to Sergeant Kilo's ears, the sound of distant, yet coming closer blaster fire was unmistakable. He had heard more than enough of it on a hundred battlefields.
The Clone cracked his bleary eyes open and squinted at the blinking HUD of his helmet. It was sinister red, showing both his status and that of his platoon. Twenty KIAs, probably the poor bastards with the old Phase I or II armors, with the rest wounded, most of them critically. Him included.
A glance was enough to tell the story – shattered arm, fractured ribs, cracked sternum, twisted ankle and bruised knee. Internal bleeding and concussion too, not to mention he felt like one giant bruise. Kilo didn't know what exactly happened, beyond the obvious – it was bad, really bad. It was only thanks to a mix of stimulants and painkillers he was awake and aware.
"Guardian 3 Besh, report!" A dispassionate, detached voice demanded.
"Guardian 3 Besh, Control." Kilo's voice cracked as it sent stabbing pain in his side. "Element combat ineffective. Requesting immediate medical support." The Clone hissed into his comm and slowly, rolled to his right side, which was more or less intact. Even with military grade painkillers, his ribs hurt something fierce, which was anything but a good sign.
"Guardian 3 Besh, negative. All medical elements are deployed or out of action. Enemy incursion in progress in your AO. Hold your position until relieved. Control out."
Kilo cursed. The fighting was coming closer and closer. He was reasonably certain he could even hear the clanging of approaching droid feet. Not good. The Clone slowly and painfully got to his knees and looked around. He was at one end of a bloody pile. Whatever happened slammed everyone in the corridor against the upper left part of the ceiling before they crashed on the floor. Kilo could see the broken, unmoving forms of multiple armored troopers, a few more twitched, which mean they were alive for now. There were at least a dozen crew-members too, who were a mess. Shattered skulls and compound fractures leaked blood that pooled on the floor. The poor bastards had only their uniforms to protect them, which obviously did nothing of the sort. The Sergeant cursed and searched for the nearest weapon, which turned out to be a blaster rifle buried below multiple crushed crew-members. It took a lot of effort to pull it out, but at least it was in working order. Only then, Kilo allowed himself to check the status of the nearest still alive trooper.
The man wore a Phase II armor, which was visibly dented in multiple places. How he was still alive, Kilo had no idea. One thing was for certain, the wounded soldier wouldn't survive for much longer without immediate medical attention. All the Sergeant could do was administer a Bacta injection, or a stimulant, whatever survived the pileup, hoping to keep the casualties alive for a bit longer, even though it was almost certainly a wasted effort. The fighting was almost on top of them, just around the corner, and it wasn't like any of them would be going anywhere in a hurry.
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