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Phase 11: The long way home

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Part 6

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CIC

Republic cruiser Adler

Naboo

"It's all gone to hell out there." The Captain spoke quietly.

The CIC around him was subdued – the crew did their job as quietly as possible while too many of their comrades were going on one last, one way charge.

"There's nothing else we can do." Rufaan's voice was barely a whisper.

"Tibana level one point three percent." The Weapons officer interjected, underlining how deep a hole they've dug themselves in.

Despite the jamming thrown by both sides and all the firing and explosions going on making a hash of the sensor picture, it was quite clear what was happening in the centre of the not quite englobed Separatist formation. Massive energy spikes complete with explosions registered by visual sensors confirmed that more and more Republic ships rammed the enemy – ships that were either out of ammunition to shoot with or had the bulk of their weapons disabled.

"Keep firing until all guns run dry. Get all non-essential personnel off this ship once that happens and by that I mean everyone we don't need to steer her into ramming a Separatist battleship." The Admiral ordered.

"Aye, sir. Keep firing until we run dry, then ram one of the bastards." The Captain declared cheerfully. "You heard the man, get all non-essential personnel to the escape pods and any shuttle we've got in the hangar." The Clone turned to look at Rufaan. "Sir, I recommend you make your way to the nearest shuttle or escape pod and displace to another ship."

"I think I'll stay." Rufaan shook his head.

The Captain merely raised an eyebrow, stood at attention and gave the Admiral a formal salute. "It's an honour to have you with us, sir."

Tigellinus wasn't sure what exactly prompted the decision to stay. Was it all the people this insane plan was consigning to "glorious" death? Perhaps it was the fact that they were Clones and to his consternation it wasn't until they went to certain death for the Republic, following a plan he had a part in thinking up, that he suddenly began thinking of them as real people? Many Clones had died under his command since the war began, yet he felt little regret over that fact. Certainly much less than he had when 'real' people died. It was just now that it really hit him. Did he even know why the Clones followed such suicidal orders without question or even a word of protest? Why were they fighting for? Why were they so ready to die for a Republic whose people didn't give a damn about them?

"Signal from Admiral Tarkin. Reinforcements – both our and Separatists just entered the system. Half of ours are moving to aid us with the rest heading to intercept the new enemy formation."

Too little, too late, hopefully for the Separatists.

"It's not like we can disengage now without getting this fleet gutted for no gain. Keep going."

The Adler's consorts formed around her in a protective formation, with what few escorts they had left moving in their shadows ready to dart out and intercept any enemy ramming attempt. More and more GAR units emulated the behaviour of their Flag and soon almost a third of the Republic ships in system were bearing upon the enemy dead set on ending them by any means possible.

It finally percolated in the Separatists' brains what exactly was about to happen and they responded in kind. It was usually quite hard to ram a ship in space – they were fast, reasonably agile and there was, well a lot of space, where they could evade.

None of that was true in the current situation. The bulk of the CIS fleet at Naboo was sandwiched against the planet, a lot of their ships were still rotating to point away from Naboo, and there simply wasn't enough space to manoeuvre, nor they possessed the necessary acceleration to easily evade the Republic ships coming for them. Still, some of the enemy did get in a position to execute their own ramming runs. The GAR ships under Tigellinus used what little ammunition they had left to blast their way through the Separatist escorts coming their way and when that proved insufficient, the few surviving frigates flew from the sensor shadows where they hid and went for a physical intercept. The escorts tore at each other with a suicidal abaddon and in their wake cruisers ploughed through expanding clouds of high-velocity debris.

A burning Venator with not a single weapon left flew in the front and headed straight for the nearest Lukrehulk. Last ditch defensive fire broke her to pieces which continued to head in the same direction and the enemy didn't have enough space to manoeuvre – every which way it could go, there were more incoming Republic ships hell bent to ram it.

An Acclamator with shredded superstructure came next and this time there was not enough time to reduce her to debris before she slammed into the evading enemy battleship. The sheer kinetic energy combined with hypermatter reactors going critical saw another short lived star be born and when the dust settled there was a tiny nebula made of two mostly vaporised ships left behind.

More damaged Republic ships flew true and that Lukrehulk's whole division soon vanished in the hearts of blinding explosions, thus opening the way deeper into the enemy formation, where more and more GAR units charged in heedless of the fate awaiting them.

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CIC

Republic cruiser Shining Light

Two light-seconds from Naboo

Seconds after our arrival, when the sensors refreshed, we saw exactly what we flew into. There were two ongoing battles – large one right on top of Naboo and a smaller engagement by a GAR force outnumbered three to one.

"I want IFF of the ships in each formation and open communication with whoever is in charge, both in space and planet-side. Get me an update on the status of our forces." I ordered. "I want insertion coordinated calculated and distributed for each battle. We'll probably reinforce both at the same time."

At a first glance the situation appeared very good for our side. The enemy at Naboo was trapped against the planet and if I didn't know better, I would conclude that they would be shot to pieces before they could disengage.

I did know better – the only reason my own ships were reasonably well stocked was salvage from all the wrecks left in the wake of the battle and a continues low level of munition and fuel supply coming from deeper in the Western Quadrant as well as what we managed to steal from Sullust.

Our forces at Naboo had much fewer systems available to provide supply and they might not have had the time to salvage anything from lost ships. That only left whatever they managed to steal during their raids – if they went more or less according to plan in the first place. I had to assume that our ships were about to run out of ammunition if some of them hadn't already.

This could turn very ugly very fast, but at least it wasn't all bad. The worst case scenario had us arriving to find Naboo under Separatist control after they had wiped out the rest of our forces in the region.

"Open a channel – all frequencies, ours and Separatists, full power." I barked. I waited for a moment until the Comm's officer gave me a thumb's up. "This is General Delkatar Veil to all Separatist forces in system. You are the only combat capable Confederate formation left in this whole region of space. Your counter attack at Eriadu failed miserably. You are outnumbered, out-gunned and the bulk of your forces are trapped. Surrender and I will personally guarantee your safety. Continue to resist and I will do my utmost to see you meet as painful a death as I can arrange. Choose now."

"We've got a line to Jedi Master Mandolin, General. There's still no response from whoever is in charge at Naboo."

"Contact Admiral Holt – she'll command the units reinforcing Mandolin. She'll take..." I listed a number of cruiser divisions along with appropriate escorts. "Now put Mandolin on and the officer in charge at Naboo as soon as we get into contact."

=RK=

Part 7

=RK=

CIC

Republic cruiser Shining Light

Naboo

The CIC was subdued – everyone could feel my raging fury the moment Tarkin got into contact and gave me a rough sit-rep. Since the moment he proposed this whole mess, I knew the odds were excellent that everything would crash and burn in a spectacular fashion. That was precisely what was happening right now – the bulk of the Separatist forces in system were trapped at Naboo... by a Republic fleet that was practically out of anything to shoot with and were left to execute ramming attacks upon the enemy. The best case scenario – we were going to lose a lot of ships at Naboo. The Worst case – the Separatist there would fight their way out and either maul my other forces or flee so they could continue to pose a threat.

I spat a vile Hutt curse; say what you will about the worms, their language was unique set up for all kinds of creative and inventive swearing. It was appropriate too, because what could still happen here at Naboo wasn't actually the worst case scenario – that was the Confederacy finally deciding that they really needed to rid themselves of yours truly and had couple more Sector Fleets en route, in which case we were all kriffed terminally.

There wasn't much I could do in such a case except running with as many ships I could extract and hope for the best. So until and unless heavy enemy reinforcements turned to darken my day, I had to clean up Tarkin's little mess.

"Mandolin, you and Admiral Holt will take care of the enemy reinforcements. I'll do my best to salvage the situation at Naboo. Joanna, you have tactical command." I raised a hand when the plant-man made to protest. "She has more experience commanding battles in space. It's something we'll work on once time permits along with getting you and your three friends up to snuff with all manners of Force related things you should have been taught by the Jedi. Carry out you orders." For a moment let my eyes shone with the power of the Dark Side. It wouldn't be long before my newest minions grew enough of a backbone after I turned them to become a liability. I would need to either arrange a glorious death in combat for them, take a more personal touch in overseeing them or dispose of them myself before that happened... or I could let them kriff up by the numbers after getting drunk on the Dark Side and use that as one more nail in the coffin of the Jedi Order... I still was bitter about the bastards going for a coup and messing up everything.

"Orders, sir?" The Captain asked.

"The fleet will advance towards Naboo. Standard assault formation. Our fleet there will be collapsing shortly – they're running out of ammo if they all haven't all done so already. Concentrate on disabling enemy ships – priorities are weapons and propulsion. What little small craft assets we have left are to stay back and deal with any enemy unit that has its UMBRELLA neutralized." There was no time for finesse this time around – thinking about it, ever since I got stuck with the Republic, I really didn't have the opportunity to get creative. Doing so would require that I get stuck with a fleet for months in an environment that would allow me to drill them like a well oiled machine instead of relying on Battle Meditation for anything fancy. If it wasn't for Skywalker's stunt before Geonosis I would have done precisely that and might have been able to keep my trump card hidden for longer. Ah, there was no point considering what ifs...

To his credit, Mandolin wasted no time threw everything he had, that wasn't already joined the melee above Naboo, at the Separatists he was engaging, thus he fixed them nicely in place while Joanna's ships formed around her Flag and executed a textbook pincer manoeuvre. Whoever was commanding the CIS ships there was no dummy either – they already had a sizeable contingent of their heavy units rotating to intercept such an attack, yet for once the number game wasn't in the enemy's favour. When Joanna's battle-group hit, the enemy only outnumbered our ships three to two and they simply lacked the number of battle ships and dreadnoughts to come ahead in a fire-power contest at those odds. That Separatist force was going to either disengage and flee, surrender or die. Hopefully not the latter, because they had numbers enough to take too many of my own ships if they went for a last stand of their own.

At any rate, that part of the battle was now handled, which left my own hands full with salvaging the predictable result of Tarkin's grand design. Even if this ultimately worked as he intended and we both lived to enjoy the fruits of this whole nonsense, I wasn't going to let him live it down any-time soon.

"No response to my polite request that our uninvited guests surrender?" I asked the Comm officer. A man can surely hope, right?

"None, general."

"There actually might be." The Tactical officer – yet another Clone like the whole crew of my new Flag, pointed out at the holo-tank.

The tactical situation was on, focused on the huge fur-ball right above Theed of all paces. Was that city cursed or something? There were a lot of red dots pushing against a painfully thin cordon trying to keep them mired in place. With every passing second more and more ships on both sides vanished from the plot. So far the exchange rate lightly favoured us, at least number wise, though with nothing left to shoot that was soon about to change.

"The Seppies look awfully eager to leave, don't they?" I chuckled. "It's like they don't like our hospitality. Let's do something about that. Prepare for a hyperspace insertion. The fleet will divide in three battle groups – Alpha, Beta, Gamma. I'm in charge of Alpha and we're going right there..." I jabbed a finger at the only part of the enemy formation that wasn't completely englobed.

Their ships there were still stuck under attack by Republic units, which still had a bit of ammo left and thus unable to disengage, nor in a position to break the englobement wide open, yet. An unhealthy amount of ramming runs against any group of Separatist battleships that looked like they might achieve a breakthrough saw to that.

"Commodore Vega will take command of formation Beta and reinforce Admiral Tarkin while Gamma will aid Admiral Tigellinus on the other flank. As for commander... After the battles at Sullust and Eriadu we've run out of experienced senior commanders, with Joanna and myself being the notable exceptions. Vega was a Clone Captain who distinguished himself during our last couple of battles; his AARs and peers said good things, which prompted me to promote him to fill up some of the glaring gaping holes in our command structure – yet another thing preventing me from even attempting any complicated manoeuvres when I wasn't leaning heavy on Battle Meditation. One of those days that might even change, though as wishes go I could perhaps ask for a whole new fleet complete with a year or two of supplies, including spare parts.

"Hyperspace calculations ready, General. Who will command force Gamma?" The Captain asked.

"I'm actually not sure." I admitted. "We're a bit low on experienced flag officers. Recommendations?"

"Captains Marcel or Zed. They're among the more seasoned we have left and I know Zed has commanded a Venator squadron before."

"Zed is it then. Please inform him of his provisional promotion of Commodore and his new orders, then jump when ready."

Thirty seconds later, we entered and then exited hyperspace with before we could even properly notice the transition and suddenly we were bow to engine with the enemy.

"Fire at will." I gave a redundant order. It took precious seconds for sensors to stabilize and lock on the nearest juicy target then the enemy recoiled when a wall of turbolaser fire slammed into them from behind. "Please inform the Separatist in charge of this mess that their window of opportunity to flee just slammed shut. They will surrender now or die."

It was more like either surrender or either die or flee with whatever they managed to extract from this débâcle, because moments after I ordered the message sent, the fire-power of the local Republic ships cut off to a tickle compared to what it was before.

"We've got signal from Admiral Tigellinus. His compliments for the timely arrival. Ammunition levels across the fleet just hit zero. They're going to take as many of the bastards with them to hell. He wishes us luck and that we would avenge them."

"Acknowledge. Send a message to the Admiral – he did great given the circumstances and he is ordered not to die like an imbecile." Otherwise, I would have to see if I could bring him back to strangle him myself. If anyone had to go down with the fleet it should be Tarkin – this was his bloody mess to clean up. If anyone had to fall on their sword it was Tarkin, damn him!

Around us, more and more Republic ships that ran out of stuff to throw at the enemy went into terminal ramming runs. That caused an utter chaos in the surrounded Separatist formation, which collapsed in front of our eyes. To be frank, I haven't seen such a cluster-kriff before in my life. The few instances I could recall of a fleet being trapped behind enemy lines that ran this low on supplies – both Empire and Republic, they had the good sense to surrender long before they got stuck in a position where they had to try ram the enemy en masse.

"Damn it, that's Felix's ships..." The Captain let out a string of execuite Mandalorian curses – I could hear the influence of certain General that now worked for me.

In front of our eyes a whole Venator division – all made up by moderately to heavy damaged ships went straight for the throats of three Lukrehulks and a Providence dreadnought lurking just behind them. The battleships weren't in a pristine condition either – their final defensive fire was too little too late and soon each got speared by an accelerating cruiser. The Providence was in a better condition, not to mention a much more agile ship. She managed to roll away just in time to avoid the last Venator and hammered it with her broadside as it flew by.

This was pure Force damned madness and such a waste I was left speechless. Why the Separatists wouldn't surrender? Were we unlucky enough to have a droid in charge?

"Sir, incoming fire just wend down, they cut their acceleration too... We're getting a broadcast! They're announcing their surrender!

Apparently not... unless this was a trick to get away from our crazy kamikazes for long enough to redress their lines so they could blast their way out later... The question was were we in a position to disengage?

"Call the Separatist Commander. They're to shut down all non-essential system and prepare to receive boarding parties! I want marines on every ship that supposedly surrenders. They're to make their way to engineering with demolition charges and cripple those ships even if they just suspect foul play! Do it on the double!" I barked. We might be able to salvage something from this after all, even if most of the fleet got gutted in the process...