Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars nor am I associated with those that do. This is a non-profit fan work written for the purpose of entertainment.
The Imperial: Arrowhead Command
Chapter 4 - Bakura I
The flight from the Ponemah was disorganized, with ships thrown out of formation or bumping into each other. Ordinarily, I would take the time to reorganize them before making the next jump. Ordinarily, my section would not be harassed every step of the way. While Randd and his supporters had given up the moment we left the system, the rebels were an ever-present threat.
At Annaj, it became clear that the Imperial fleet had already retreated from the system. In their place, a small strike force of rebel cruisers lay in wait. While we outnumbered them, I knew the rest of their force waited somewhere in the sector, so we cut our losses and continued on. This story repeated, time and again. Qina, Trindello, Ast Kikorie; each system we entered saw us ran back out again. Thankfully, no one rebel squadron was large enough to chase down and engage us. Indeed, I found a certain irony in the idea that my taskforce was likely the largest single squadron in the sector.
My humor was dissipated with each jump, each failed attempt to reorganize, each near miss with a rebel fleet. It was good that we resupplied when we did, as I would be hard-pressed to find a single friendly port in this entire sector.
The Steadfast had to play pathfinder for the fleet, jumping into systems to ensure they were clear before we followed. The Victory's age was showing, with every jump came another report from Zanus on one problem or another. This scouting was putting strain on its hyperdrive, but now the problem came from a lack of options. The Conqueror was no longer operating at peak efficiency and the Intimidation was my only other capital ship. The Strike Cruisers were too fragile, the Lancers too slow, and the Carracks lacked modern sensor suites. The great weakness of my section was made all the more apparent - without the Conqueror or Intimidation, we were fragile and blind.
Perhaps it was the stress of the last couple of weeks talking, but I had already written a very strongly worded report to send to Captain Thoath when I finally returned to the fleet. Even if I had to move the very stars themselves, I would get a surveyor frigate or Vigil in my section.
But that was in the future, now I needed to survive. Spite was a strong motivator, but I could not lash out or bemoan my situation. My crew continued admirably, but I feared what dissent was simmering under the surface. Screold had likely already figured out that I had no plan - that I was jumping us blind in a direction - and the crew would be soon to follow. My strong face would keep them calm for only so long, and by that point, I hoped to have a solution.
"A rebel cruiser group is holding in the system. It's likely that they spotted me, but they made no move to pursue." Zanus reported, expression as grim as the news. I let out a soft breath through my nose, another avenue closed before it had even started. Short jumps until we reached the Koda Spur had been my latest plan to escape the Moddell Sector, but the Rebels were closing their grip around our throats. Unfortunately, despite its relative size, the Steadfast gave off a tremendous amount of cronau radiation. The rebels would need to be blind to miss it, further justifying the need for an actual scouting ship.
No point crying over it; I scrapped that plan and considered the next. A starmap of the local sectors rotated slowly in front of me, red crosses marking rebel or hostile systems. Unfortunately, that left only the more farfetched plans. To get back to Imperial space, I would need to take my section further.
Bakura. The edge of the recorded space, with little to zero information on the world itself. It was civilized, that much was known, but it also would be the jump-off point to wander wild space. We would skirt the western edge of the galaxy, finally reentering the Empire proper at… Galantos. The edge of the Core Worlds, but from there I could get into the Core and be relatively safe. Unfortunately, that section of space was under-explored at best, with star lanes and hyperspace routes both fleeting and thin. But, it was better than the alternative - fighting our way out.
"It seems Bakura is becoming our only option," Screold noted softly, echoing my thoughts. I nodded in agreement, irking me though it did. The expedition would take two weeks at best, and only then if the hyperlanes remained available. If they didn't, then this would become a very long trip.
"Damned if we do, damned if we don't," I said, turning to the navigation officer, "Plot us a course to the Bakura system. Steadfast, rejoin the formation. Intrepid, take over pathfinding."
Zanus saluted before flickering away, an action mirrored by the Intrepid's commanding officer. The section became a storm of movement as the Conqueror's navigation officers fed new coordinates and orders to the other vessels. The Steadfast limped back as the Intrepid took off - making its way for the exit point out of the system. As the Intrepid vanished into hyperspace, I turned to cover my mouth - muffling a yawn. I hadn't slept in… bleeding stars, it must be nearly fifty hours. I had enough stimulants and caffeine running through my veins to put a less healthy man into cardiac arrest.
Wearing a glove though I was, I could feel the bristles on my lip and chin - it had been even longer since I had a chance to shave. I must look downright homely now, letting my grooming regulations go.
I stopped myself short of rubbing my eyes, the dryness growing into irritation. Instead, I busied myself with grabbing my recaf cup - precariously balanced on the edge of the holotable.
Empty. Damn.
As I tried to figure out when I had my last cup, Screold approached. She looked much better put together than me, though she had been put on rotation with the other command officers to make sure they had time to sleep. Commander Harand in the Conqueror's tertiary bridge - the official second of my section - and Matread cycled with her. Having only one of them out of sorts rather than all three just seemed like good planning.
"Sir," She said as she approached, "Current estimates place our arrival at the Bakura system within twelve hours. The section is moving in good order and there does not appear to be any issues."
"Good time," I noted absently, my eyes drawn back to the holotable. Screold seemed to debate with herself for a moment, needling her lip with her teeth before glancing around. She found whatever she was looking for, because she suddenly leaned in to whisper conspiratorially.
"Captain, it is my and the other staff's opinion that you should spend this time resting."
I blinked owlishly back at the woman, caught off-guard for a moment before quickly responding.
"Your… opinions are appreciated, Lieutenant, but I can not possibly-"
"It is a professional request, sir. We can manage the ship until the fleet arrives in Bakura."
Professional request, or "we aren't really asking. Do what we say".
Insubordination, but insubordination for my health. I was a bit bemused by the thought, mostly because I had never been ordered to sleep before. Then again, I hadn't spent days awake before, so this was a time for new experiences. I debated refusing Screold on principle, taking that moment to look around. Only then did I realize that we were alone in this corner of the command room, which was what Screold had been checking before she made her "request". I must have really been tired, if I hadn't noticed we were alone. Between saving face and finally resting my eyes, I found myself struggling to make a decision. Screold took that choice out of my hands again.
"We placed a mat in the officer meeting room."
My subordinates mothered me, but… but I was tired. What was a few hours? I could trust Screold, Matread, and Harand to keep things under control for a little while. Yes, that was a good idea.
I nodded my consent to Screold, setting my cup on one of the consoles nearby.
"The moment we arrive at Bakura." I reminded her.
"The moment we arrive, sir." I was not happy about this, but I left without further fuss. The adjacent conference room was dim and empty, the chair near the head of the table pushed aside to make room for a simple mat. A sleeping bag sat atop it and a pillow at the head, but my exhaustion had reached such a height that at its mere sight I had nearly collapsed. I trudged the rest of the way, shrugging my jacket off and leaving it thrown over a nearby chair. I fell to my knees in a distinctly undignified way, grunting with exertion as I rolled over onto my back.
The mat was thin, no doubt ripped from an emergency pack nearby alongside the pillow. The thin cloth was far from enough to mitigate the hard durasteel floor beneath me, but at that moment it felt like I was laying on a bed of clouds. My eyes closed gratefully as I allowed myself to slip quickly into the embrace of sleep.
I had no idea how long I was asleep, only that my awakening was just as abrupt as my rest. I sat up - barely coherent as I looked around blearily. I was in the conference room, which I remembered so I couldn't have been asleep for that long. It was distinctly noisy - a sound I recognized, the controlled chaos of a bridge at war. Had something happened within the short time I had been asleep? Then a second alarm blared through the ship, for it must have been the first that awoke me. I knew the alarm, blared twice in rapid succession, and then twice again-
There it was.
We were engaged, or soon to be - it was a call for the crew to man their battle stations, for pilots to rush to ready rooms and don their flight suits, and for the non-essential staff to secure the ship and rush for cover.
I was on my feet in a flash, drowsiness forgotten as I blindly grabbed for my jacket. The dimmed lights suddenly brightened as the door slid open - a grey uniformed officer standing there, white as snow.
"Captain-"
"I heard it," I barked in response, fumbling with the buttons of my jacket as I carried my service cap under my arm. My ears had not deceived me, the twin raucous of the forward and command bridges mixed into a unique chaos, one orchestrated by a familiar but rarely seen face.
Commander Rius Harand was a tall and thin man, pale in his complexion and dour in his disposition. It was fitting then that he lived in the depths of the ship, overseeing the Conqueror's auxiliary bridge. He and I rarely spoke outside of text-based messages - I kept him in the secondary bridge in the event the Conqueror's command staff was decapitated. I shuddered at the thought, but I would not leave my crew to follow me into death if that time came. The more important aspect of Harand's duties was acting as the section's commander if I were unable - less as the Captain of the Conqueror herself. Harand had his subordinate take over commanding the vessel if Screold were also disposed of.
He appeared distinctly ill, though I could not tell if that was because of the situation or merely the light doing him no favors. I wagered the former, as relief fluttered onto his features the moment I stepped into the bridge.
"Status report!" I demanded, my voice briefly silencing the bridge before they returned to their chaos - marginally more controlled.
"Captain Tullius," The weedy Commander said, walking over with his hands behind his back. I met him halfway, near the holotable which drew my attention. The section was marked clearly in green - all ships accounted for down to the last Lancer. We were relatively close to a continental world, but it was there that the situation became grim. A few pinpricks of green were swarmed by a sea of red dots, what ships these local friendlies had outmatched in sheer tonnage by their opponents. I was briefly dumbstruck by what I was seeing.
A collection of foreign, unfamiliar ships dotted the planet's orbit - shaped like avian beaks with massive engines at their rear. They were also bulbous - even the smallest ships were strangely distorted. Used to Imperial ships as I was, the bizarre alien vessels briefly caught my flat-footed. Just as quickly, I corrected myself and faced Harand.
"We arrived in the Bakura system mere minutes ago - the world appears to be under attack by an unknown force."
Appears to be? I repeated in my head incredulously, though I let none of that show on my face. I finished buttoning my jacket before approaching the holotable. With quick movements, my code cyllinder was inserted into the table and all command of the section was rerouted back to the Conqueror. I was quick to bark out my orders, and at once my ships moved to answer. The Conqueror and Intimidiation stood side-by-side on the same plane, facing toward the enemy across the system like knights of old - ready to meet them in a devastating charge. Our escorts arranged themselves accordingly, using the larger vessels as cover. Like a ball of durasteel - the formation would collapse when it met the enemy, but it was in that close ranged brawl that we would find victory.
This newfound confidence was surprising to me, as I had rarely thought with such certainty. After days of running like a scared Nuna, it was invigorating to finally find a problem I could deal with by turbolaser fire. These outsiders, whoever they were and wherever they came from, had made a grave error in attacking an Imperial world.
The noise of the forward bridge distracted me for a moment, drawing my attention as the crew quickly brought the Conqueror to order. Screold would already have closed the blastdoors, separating my command center from the Conqueror's direct operation. It was a reminder that she was not here now, and the battle untested Commander Harand was in her place. My eyes drifted back to the nervous man, the way he stood slouched in the center of the forward bridge, looking every bit the worried clerk that he always had been. Harand was not a poor officer, but he was a poor combat commander - there was a reason he sat in the tertiary bridge rather than as one of my immediate aides. If my bridge was destroyed, his job was to keep the section ordered and fighting. Standing here in the personal chaos of a bridge was something Harand had little experience in, and it showed.
I rarely wanted to directly control my officers, but in this instance I would remove that separation between ship and tactical command. If only to take some of that burden off of his shoulders.
"Navigation, can we plot a microjump into the battle?" I asked despite knowing the answer.
"No, sir. Not without a few hours of calculations at least. We can make a jump to the fourth planet, Arden. From there and at best possible speed, we can reach Bakura in an hour."
There was no telling how long the battle had been occurring, but already the holotable was painting a grim picture. The vessels on the smaller scale were challenging to identify - barring the Imperial ships, which we were receiving transponder codes from. A single Carrack was the largest vessel in the system, force into a fighting retreat against the much larger enemy cruiser.
"Plot that course and forward it to the section," I order, receiving a nod from the navigation officer. I turned back to Harand again, who had drifted closer to the rear bridge.
"You have been made aware of the Conqueror's status?" I asked.
"Ion cannons are effectively inoperable, along with a considerable percentage of our snubcraft wings." Harand summarized quickly, finding confidence in reporting back to me. I nodded, though it did not diminish the place of the Conqueror in my plans. Ion cannons or not, there were few officers that would react reasonably when a Star Destroyer was charging them down.
"Captain Tullius, we are receiving communications from Bakura."
"A status report?" I assumed.
"Unknown sir. We have identified one from the planet and one from the Carrack cruiser Dominant. They keep talking over eachother, but I don't think they've realized it."
I had little patience at the moment in dealing with a civilian government official, and I doubted they could offer any insight that the commanding officer of the Dominant did not already have.
"Deny communications from the surface and open a direct line to the Dominant." I ordered, and within moments the crackling voice of a man reached the rear bridge.
"Conqueror, this is Commander Pter Thanas of the Dominant. You wouldn't believe how relieved we are to see you." The communication was audio-only, but he sounded like a middle aged man - his voice as exhausted and beaten down as I had felt hours earlier. Though I did feel a little foolish for my tiredness before, unlike Thanas I had not been locked in a life-or-death battle.
"It is good fortune then that we arrived when we did," I said, depressing a button on the central holotable to speak, "My forces are preparing an in-system jump to the fourth planet, from there we will move to assist you."
There was a momentary pause, long enough that I briefly wondered if we had lost connection. I nearly turned to the communications officer to ask when Thanas spoke up again, this time his voice halting and unsure.
"... We would greatly appreciate the help, Captain. But… The situation on Bakura is difficult. I would need to report it to you directly, in private."
My suspicious were immediately aroused, rarely did an officer want to speak in private about anything good. In this situation, the secrecy bode worse - but I was not about to fight the man on the matter. I signalled to the communications officer to redirect the connection to my personal communicator. As I waited, the sensor technician approached from his seat - another bad sign, as it meant he did not want to insite a panic before I received the news.
"Captain, our sensors have identified several ships associated with the rebel alliance - namely one of the freighters. While we haven't cracked their IFF codes, it does match one of the vessels that escaped us at Endor."
Ah, and that would explain the hesitation from Commander Thanas. I did not have a chance to speak to the navigation technician, the communications officer had just signalled to me so I could only nod. I raised my communicator to my mouth and stepped back to the holotable.
"Command Thanas, this is Captain Rivejer Tullius, Commander of the Conqueror and of the 2nd Flank Squadron, Arrowhead Command. I was hoping, before I received your report, you could explain the presence of rebel vessels in the system? They appear to be engaged in that brawl over your world."
"Yes, that was… the issue I wished to discuss with you."
Joy.
Ciena Ree
Idle hands were no friend to a tumultuous mind; it gave me time to think, and the thoughts that passed through my mind nowadays were of a more dangerous variety. I had kept myself busy on Wrath Station for that very reason, to forget about Endor, about my shaking belief in the Empire, and about the mother I had left behind. I could still scarcely understand my decision to throw my lot in with Captain Tullius now that I had time to think on it, only that need to escape the overbearing madman that was Governor Randd. He had been increasingly unsubtle with his bashing of the Ruling Council and backing of some kind of warlord group he was part of - a dangerous prospect for my shaken faith.
I knew nothing about Tullius on the other hand, he was another Imperial officer who had likely wormed his way into a position of power. However, unlike me, Tullius had immediate sought his escape the moment it became clear Randd intended to entrap him as he had me and the others. It was almost embarressing in that respect, as I had made no effort to return to the Empire proper and instead filed reports on passing ships from Endor. My injuries had interred me, but that felt more like an excuse than a justified reason.
When the call to arms came, those of us that been brought onto the Conqueror but had not been swept into one station or another gathered in a mess hall. There was an emergency muster station nearby if the vessel was lost, but without any standing orders or evacuation points, we had nothing better to be doing.
So, I was left with my thoughts. Of Endor, of the failing Empire, of my imprisoned mother and her life held over my head, of friends lost to the fires of rebellion. It seemed that the Empire took far more than it gave to me as of late. It was a greedy and selfish way to think, but I had selflessly given everything to the Empire - maybe I deserved this moment of selfish respite.
My thoughts were brought to a halt as the door to the messhall opened and an officer walked in. The rank plaque on his chest revealed him to be a junior lieutenant, and as a bridge officer based on his pair of code cylinders. He was disheveled, not in his uniform as no self-respective bridge crewmember would allow anything other than perfection in that respect, but in his hair and eyes. The man looked as if he had run across the Star Destroyer to get here, which based on his panting he may well have. He clutched a datapad tightly to his side, owlish eyes scouring my group until they landed on me. There was a flash of recognition before he stormed over to me.
"Ciena Ree?" He asked without preamble or a salute, eyes dropping back down to his datapad before she even had a chance to answer, "You are a pilot, correct?"
Despite the rudeness of his questioning, I straightened slightly and spoke.
"I am, I was trained to fly multirole, interceptor, and shuttle craft," Less formally, I was a fair hand at TIE Bombers and gunboats, not that they were my specialization or even a desire to fly. The Lieutenant nodded, not speaking for a moment as he fiddled with his datapad.
"You are fit to fly?" Again, I nodded. Again, it was with an addendum. I was technically fit to fly, in so far as my injury not being debilitating enough to stop me anymore - I was certain to get an earful from a medical officer once they realized the extent of my injuries. That was good enough for the bridge officer, as a mouse droid rolled over with a whine.
"You are to report to Crimson Squadron, you're filling in for Crimson-8. Report to Flight Commander Lorn Hamne at crew quarters Nern-Trill-Two."
And that was all there needed to be said. The Lieutenant turned to call for a "Nej Harik" from the rest of the officers as I took off after the fleeing mouse droid. Something about "avoiding the Captain's pathway" was the last thing I heard before the blastdoor slammed shut.
I quickly overtook the small droid - I knew the interior of Imperial Star Destroyers and was especially familiar with the flight decks and meetings rooms these standardized vessels had. I hardly needed to focus as I moved through the featureless halls, my mind alight with apprehension and excitement. A dogfight was just the thing I needed to keep my mind off the situation and the Empire, being behind the controls of a TIE Fighter had always done wonders. Even if I needed to play in the shadow of another officer.
The barracks was noticeably empty when I arrived, almost to the point that I feared I had missed the other pilots and those gathered here were just the reserves. Most were already in the familiar jet black flight suits of Imperial pilots, though few of them had their helmets on. Seven sets of eyes turned to me, all displaying varying degrees of interest at my appearance. I straightened, saluting the gathered pilots.
"Commander Ciena Ree, I've been reassigned to your squadron as Crimson-8." No one spoke, though several of the eyes turned to one of the officers at the opposite end of the quarters. An older man with a thick moustache and sunken eyes met their gazes before returning to me, a confused expression on his face. He seemed to realize something soon after, as he spoke.
"Ah, you're one of the carryovers from Wrath. Matread didn't mention you, but I guess we're too short staffed to complain. Take a seat, I'm Flight Commander Hamne, Crimson-Lead or Crimson-1. You'll have time to meet everyone else once we're launched, for now… Marie, she looks about the same size as Jana, see if we have any of her suits left."
"Sir," Marie, a shorter woman with light blonde hair rose and saluted, before signalling for me to follow. The rest of the pilots continued to dress as we approached one of the lockers.
"Jana was a bit larger around the shoulders than you, so this will probably be a bit big," Jana explained as she opened the locker and pulled out a pristine flight suit, handing it to me as she spoke, "We can get you fitted properly, if Matread or whoever assigned you here decides to keep you attached."
I nodded slowly, not seeing a reason to respond as I lay the flight suit over a nearby bench.
"Where's the rest of your squadron?" I asked to make conversation as Marie didn't walk off, curiously she was rifling through the rest of Jana's stuff. I didn't comment, I wasn't part of this squadron's chain of command.
"You're looking at them. Two wounded in the medical bay, five downed at Endor. We got some of the worst, we were caught out when the rebels dropped in right on top of us." Marie spoke almost casually, though her hands tightened into fists around a graphic shirt as she spoke. I merely nodded, silently commiserating her lost comrades having experienced it myself.
"Crimson-4 and 5 were part of our reserve pilots, the other two were absorbed into Anvil Squadron - TIE Bombers. At least we still have enough TIEs to go around. I'm Crimson-7, by the way, so I'll probably be your wingman."
"I will be in your care, Crimson-7." I said, quickly removing my uniform and slipping into the flightsuit. Marie, finally finished with her snooping, turned again to face me, her expression grim for a moment before splitting into a grin.
"Call me Marie when we're shipside, none of that callsign stuff here. So…" She leaned in conspiratorially. I leaned back slightly, caught offguard by the other woman's sudden change in mood and wondering if she were not a little disturbed. No, I had seen this before, the forced kind of positivity that a soldier displayed when they lost their comrades. Marie was making the best of a bad situation, and I would not stop her.
"So…?" I repeated, drawing out the word just as she had. Marie passed me a helmet, which I set aside as I quickly tied up my hair.
"Commander Ciena Ree? Where'd Tullius find you? And not a Flight?"
I bit back the response that it had been I that found Captain Tullius, but I knew it was not quite true. I was reserving my opinion on the deceptively young officer, as I had not yet decided if he was an omniscient commander or merely extremely lucky. My poorly planned exodus from Wrath had not surprised him in the least, not unless he was a fairly decent actor. The third question was fairly obvious, it was rare for someone to reach the rank of Commander and not a Flight Commander, or lead their own squadron.
"I was a Flight," I said, "Cobalt Squadron, 3rd Interceptors, ISD Ravager. Just a regular Commander right now. Don't worry, Crimson- Marie, this is your squad. I'll follow your leads."
Marie gave a stern nod, before seeming to realize what I had said. She looked down at me incredulously.
"Interceptor? Are you sure I'd want you as my wingman?" The question wasn't meant to be insulting, it was born of a long standing reputation of TIE Interceptor pilots having far more fanaticism than they did survival instinct. It was a well deserved one at that, as Interceptors were often pushed to the very limits of their construction with little regard for survival. Marie's half-jest was made to gauge if I would play nice with the rest of the squadron.
"I was a Fighter pilot before I was an Interceptor, I'll play nice." I joked myself, before putting on a faux-serious expression, "But if you're too slow, I'll leave you behind."
"I'll hold you to that," Marie said, maintaining her serious disposition for a moment longer before becoming all smiles again.
"I'll leave you to getting dressed, we'll see how you fly, Commander."
TIE Fighters were not designed for comfort, it was a fact distinctly familiar for me. Sienar had designed the starfighters for speed and cost effectiveness - or in other words, cheapness. Yet despite this knowledge, I had never been as at ease than when I was behind the controls of a TIE. The control panel in front of me blinked softly, still in rest mode from its last engagement. The fighter, much like its new pilot, had been moved into Crimson Squadron to replace its lost members. The newly designated "Crimson-8" was shiny and clean, unlike its fellows which all still bore their damage from previous battles. Carbon scoring and plasma scorching along their bodies that had not yet been repaired. Crimson had been mauled in their previous engagement, that much was evident, but its members remained in high spirits. Fatalism was a death scentence in the starfighter corps, or so the old adage went.
"We just reverted from lightspeed. Look alive, people, the Captain is taking us right into the thick of it."
I took that as a signal and began bringing the starfighter on line. My helmet went over my head, briefly blinding me before the helmet's heads-up-display linked with the fighter. A full range of sight flickered to life, allowing my to see in all directions around the TIE Fighter's cockpit. Status updates began appearing soon after, though I was quick to fiddle with the display until it matched my preferences.
The familiar but muffled whine of the twin ion engine came from behind me, the rumble calming my mild nerves as I fiddled with the yoke. I signalled my readiness to Crimson-Lead soon thereafter, one of the first to do so. As soon as we were all ready, the hangar officer siddled into our communications channel.
"Crimson, this is HTC. Uploading launch path now. Lead Flight will go first, followed by second flight. On my mark."
True to the droning officer's words, a flight path appeared on my HUD, guiding us out. The first four fighters were released from their docking clamps, drifting out of the hangar before the remaining four of us followed. The area immediately outside Conqueror's hangars was a sea of activity, the vessels closing into a tight packing as this disgorged their fighters.
I remained glued to my new wingman's side, and true to Marie's words it was her. The squadron was two flights, made up of four elements and two TIEs each. Smaller than the usual squadron, but it was all we could mustre in the current circumstance. The section's complete lack of TIE Interceptors, which had come as a surprise when I learned about it, meant we were probably going to be on interception duties.
Going that the collection of Lancers and Skipray Blastboats didn't destroy everything that got close in the first place. Four Lancer frigates was a fair number for a section of this size, but paired with twenty Skiprays and at this proximity? Any bombing run would need to be committed and borderline suicidal to charge the Conqueror and her escorts without considerable support.
My helmet's display flickered as it was fed data from the Conqueror, flooding my view with green and red markings before quickly adjusting. Relevant data for the section hovered over ships, but my eyes were drawn to the veritable sea of red hovering over nearby Bakura. A few IFF pings for Imperial forces flashed out from the horde, but they were overwhelmingly outnumbered by hostile forces.
"This must be what pilots felt like during the War." Marie muttered over out shared comms, and I couldn't help but agree with her. A handful of enemy cruisers and frigates carrying hundreds if not thousands of fighters, it was a doctrine that the TIE Fighter was meant to combat. I absently triple checked my blaster cannons, just to be certain they would work.
"Ears open, Crimson," Hamne cut off any response, "We're assigned to the Conqueror. Intercept duty only, watch eachother. Eyes open, Crimson-8, Tullius likes to play things close."
I allowed a smirk at the man's words, taking his ribbing in stride. I already had a decent feel for Captain Tullius, or so I felt. The man held a certain fearless aggression that only the insane or truly competent carried, and if Blitzer Harrsk kept him around Tullius had to be the latter. For the first time in what seemed to be years, I felt like I was fighting on the right side of history. Serving a no-nonsense officer, fighting against an aggressive alien force attacking a loyal world - no question of who was in the right or if our foes were innocents.
The approach was relatively silent, with our flight and every other making ready for a battle. I followed my own quiet ritual, my thoughts cast back to better and happier times. It was a melancholic way to prepare, but I figured it was a good way to die - thinking about loved ones past and present.
The enemy, having long since noticed our arrival, had sent wave after wave of fighters in our direction - a veritable wave of blaster and metal armor. The seconds counted down as they approached. The Conqueror and her escorts suddenly slowed, letting the Lancers overtake them and create a bulwark at the front of the fleet. A few more seconds and the incoming craft passed within the range of the screening vessels.
The void before us ignited as dozens of enemy fighters disappeared in an instant, caught in the wild sprays of the Lancer gun batteries. A chunk vanished from the incoming estimated force as the enemy craft made no attempt to maneuver or avoid the wall of fire they were charging into. Next was the Skiprays, which ran ahead of the force and fired their payloads of proton torpedoes and concussion missiles. They retreated back to the safety of the Imperial fighter swarm as their ordinance detonated with brilliant multicolored explosions. Another chunk vanished from the number, and then they were upon us.
The "Crush" it was called, when two fighter swarms slammed into each other. It was an apt name, as we rushed to meet the enemy and keep them locked in the devastating firing arches of the Lancers. Crimson danced at the prow of the Conqueror, mopping up what fighters tried to slip past the initial friendly wave and the Lancers. I had trained against Vulture Droids in old simulators years ago, yet somehow this fight felt like the less real of the two. I dove down on a trio of enemy fighters moving in an arrowhead under the Conqueror. I squeezed out a burst of green blaster fire, watching the lead craft and one of its escorts vanish in a vibrant explosion. The remaining fighter sluggishly tried to slow down and meet me, only for Marie to finish it off with a blaster of her own fighter.
Before she could, I had the chance to study the fighter. I had never seen anything like it. It was tetrahedral, flying with its apex facing forward. Two gun turrets had been visible at my approach angle, one on either visible face. If I could see the other side, I suspected there were two more. It appeared less like a fighter and more like a bunker with engines, did it have several crew members manning gun positions?
I wasn't given much time to ponder as Marie and I turned around to face another wing of fighter head-on. A burst from my blasters sent another two enemy craft into a death spiral before I was forced to break off, narrowly avoiding the escorts' return fire. Marie peeled off the other way, splitting the enemy craft between us - two to her, three following me.
The enemy craft were fast, but either not very maneuverable or controlled by poorly trained pilots. My evasive maneuvers were followed by lazy drifting and micro-adjustments, the starfighters opting for accuracy by volume of fire. I evaded a couple of volleys, watching as bolts raced by, before I decided they were close enough. Given the speeds they were pushing, I wagered I could have just raced ahead and lost them that way, but I instead cut the TIE Fighter's speed. A heartbeat later, I slammed the ion engine into a reverse thrust - redirecting its particles forward in a maneuver that would have had my old teacher red with anger. If I had been in the atmosphere, my wings would have been sheered off the fighter. Here in the void, all I felt was my harness straining to keep me seated as I suddenly reversed my forward momentum.
The three enemy fighters flashed by, either unable to stop fast enough or not processing what I had done in time to match me. I pushed the engines forward again, putting me back on the tail of the trio of enemy craft. From there, it was like a simulator - a squeeze of my triggers and three hostiles were splashed.
I spun the TIE back around, racing toward the throng of battle with renewed vigor. I needn't have bothered, as my HUD reported the enemy ships had been cleared from around the Conqueror and Intimidation.
Marie, evidently having taken care of her own pursuers, rejoined me as I passed over the Conqueror's starboard gun batteries.
"Just like the simulations." She said, echoing my earlier thoughts.
"Don't get cocky," I warn her in turn.
"No," Marie was quick to add, "I mean, just like a simulation. It's like we're fighting simulated AI hostiles instead of real ones. They don't maneuver, they don't dogfight, they just move in a direction as a herd. I just flew in a circle until I was behind mine."
I closed my mouth, thinking for a moment and realizing Marie was right. While the Clone Wars were far behind my time, I had been trained in the academy on Vulture Droid simulators. As a swarm, they were exceptionally dangerous. However, individual droids were not very advanced, being controlled by a central computer.
"You think they're droids?" I ask after a moment of consideration.
"That, or the worst pilots this side of Chandrilla," I smirk at the comment before switching channels that of Crimson-Lead.
"Lead, this is Crimson-8."
"Go ahead, Crimson-8." Hamne said after a moment of silence.
"Be advised, enemy craft appear to be automated. Combat behavior indicates ineffective stimuli processing and reaction times."
"Received, Crimson-8. Command is a step ahead of you, though-"
He was cut off as one of Matread's officers cut into my communications channel, and likely those of every other pilot.
"All units, this is Conqueror. Reports indicate that the enemy has deployed droid starfighters. New orders incoming."
Nothing changed for Crimson Squadron, as we were already placed on inception duty. All other fighters were pulled close to a fleet vessel, either one of the capital ships or one of the smaller escorts. The orders for dealing with droid swarms were simple, stay close to a command ship and don't give chase. It was a popular tactic by the Separatists during the Clone Wars, to trick Clone pilots into chasing down small groups of Vulture Droids only to be fallen upon by a swarm of reinforcements.
With the rapid retreat of the Imperial craft, the enemy fighters gave chase - directly into the waiting maws of the anti-fighter vessels. Again, the Lancers and Skipray Blastboats carved away at the overwhelming number of enemies.
And then they were upon us. More fighters blew past the protective screen. With the Conqueror as our backdrop, we faced them.
Commander Pter Thanas
The invaders, when faced with the choice between fleeing the system or facing a pair of Star Destroyers, decided discretion was the better part of valor. They lost several of their escort vessels, bombers giving chase as Captain Tullius sought his battle.
Ordinarily, the sight of Imperial Star Destroyers would have been a cause for celebration in my eyes. Their timely arrival had scared the enemy into flight without needing to engage, and the trial of holding back an overwhelming force rewarded. Unfortunately, I did not know that reinforcements were en route, so I sought assistance from another source. The Rebel forces that had joined the battle on our side were as wary of the Star Destroyers as the Imperial were of the Rebel forces.
This situation might have been swept under the rug, so to speak. A decision was made out of desperation but with Imperial forces arrived in the system, we could join our forces and push the Rebels out as well. Unfortunately, Captain Tullius's vessels were flashing Death Squadron identification alongside Arrowhead - meaning they were representing not just Blitzer Harrsk but the Emperor himself.
Of course, if these vessels were representing Imperial forces in the sector, then it made the arrival and claims of the Rebels all the more bizarre. If the Emperor was dead and the Empire driven from the sector, then where had Tullius come from? Answers would be found, but until then I would need to keep peace between both sides.
"Commander, Governor Nereus is attempting to hail us." The communications officer announced, turning his chair to face me. At my nod, he accepted the communication. Even without seeing his face, I could imagine the scowl Wilek Nereus was displaying.
"Commander, status report." I allowed the barest smirk to cross my lips at Nereus's agitated tone, enjoying the panic of a man so used to control having it pulled from his hands. My amusement did not appear in my tone as I responded.
"The invading force has been routed, they refused to engage Captain Tullius," I said, "The day is ours."
"You have been in contact with the Captain? Did the Emperor send him?" In a flash, my amusement faded; replaced by a familiar unease. Even with a victory over the invaders and the arrival of friendly Imperial forces, there was not telling when the aliens would return and in what numbers. There hadn't been a Star Destroyer in the Bakura system since the world was brought into the Imperial fold, two of them were bound to draw attention.
"Unknown at this time, I was about to speak with the Captain."
"Good, we can use him to rid ourselves of the Rebels as well - two entire Star Destroyers will be-"
"Governor, if I may." I interrupt Nereus, quickly stopping him before he drags yet another war into this system. His ambition often outstripped his logic, but pitting the two fleets that had saved us against each other was a terrible idea. Nereus did go silent, so I took the chance to continue.
"Until we are certain of where this Tullius stands, we cannot risk angering the Rebels - they may attempt to conquer Bakura at best or leave us to our fates at worse. While the invaders did retreat in the face of reinforcements, there is no telling what size of force they may bring next. We need every ship we can get."
Nereus was silent for a long second, and without being able to see his face I couldn't gauge his reaction. Wilek Nereus was no moron, but often he let his emotions have more control of him than he would care to admit. There was a reason that he had been let go from the navy and sent to govern Bakura.
"... Open talks with Tullius, gauge his intentions. He did not refuse to work with the Rebels?"
"Not from what I could tell. He appeared agitated but did not comment on it. That he hasn't attacked us or the Rebels is a good sign."
"Keep me updated, Commander." With that, Nereus closed the communications channel. I let my shoulders droop slightly, tension draining before it returned in force. There would only be a brief respite before I needed to explain to a member of Death Squadron why I was working with the very Rebels they had been fighting. I turn to the communications officer, about to order that we open a line with the Conqueror when he spoke first.
"Conqueror is requesting a channel, Commander." I paused, swallowed, and then nodded.
"I'll take it at the holotable." With that, I retreated into the Dominant's bridge, where a large raised dias sat at its center. Much of the space was dominated by a holotable, the holographic form of Bakura gently spinning over the top of it. I quickly accepted to communications request with my code cylinder, and watched as the hologram of Bakura faded from view. As our previous conversation had been audio-only, this was my first time seeing Captain Tullius face-to-face.
The man's hologram flickered to life, and I was strangely disappointed. Rivejer Tullius was young - younger than me - with neatly cropped sideburns framing a severe, but otherwise forgettable face. There was little I could find on the man that made him stand out in the slightest. He appeared of a moderate height and slim build, a dull and pristine uniform with only his rank plaque and command cylinders displayed. I had seen his sort a thousand times before and indeed could find similar individuals on this very bridge.
However, looks can be deceiving, and Captain Tullius was clearly anything but plain. An officer in Arrowhead Command and then Death Squadron and a survivor of what appeared to have been the climactic battle at Endor; Tullius was either exceptionally lucky or very good at his job, both of which I could use.
We shared a quick salute before Tullius began the meeting.
"Commander," Tullius greeted, "Your prompt response is appreciated. It appears this enemy is not as eager to face the Imperial Navy as I was led to believe."
"Your assistance is appreciated, all the same, Captain. Even with the forces we had present, I doubted our ability to find victory."
"Yes, of course," Tullius dismissed my words with a wave of his hand, "I suppose that lot weren't so eager on an even fight. However, it is the composition of those vessels in your forces that concerns me now. Namely, one of them, which my staff informed me escaped my section at Endor."
Ah, that made things a bit more difficult.
"The situation necessitated accepting their help, Captain," I begin slowly, "A choice I would not have made had I known Death Squadron was en route to assist."
There was finally a crack in Tullius's facade, a brief glance to one side, a look of exhaustion and discomfort at my words. I fidgetted, my worst fears slowly being confirmed.
"Should we expect further reinforcements, Captain?" I pressed, and the stone-faced Tullius recovered.
"I am afraid that Bakura will not be receiving Imperial reinforcements at this time, Commander. This is not something I will be discussing over an unsecured channel. Am I to assume that the Governor of this world wishes to speak?"
Tullius's careful choice of words bode poorly; he spoke as if even his section was not here as reinforcements. Given that Bakura was as out-of-the-way as one could get, I could only guess why Tullius came this way.
"You would presume correctly, Captain. Governor Nereus has requested your presence at the capital. I must ask that you keep the peace with the Rebels until this situation has been resolved. I cannot allow Bakura to become more of a warzone than it already is."
It was a bold demand and not one I would make under better circumstances. Even if I were to order the full might of the Bakuran Defense Fleet to engage the Conqueror, it could just ignore us and chase down the Rebels long before we would break her shields. To say nothing of the rest of Tullius's fleet. Tullius, to my tentative surprise, merely nodded his head in agreement.
"So long as they keep their peace with me," He allowed, "I have no ore interest in starting an unnecessary battle than you, Commander."
"You have my thanks. Dominant, out." The hologram of Tullius flickered and vanished, the last words I heard being for a channel to be opened with Bakura itself. The system map reappeared soon thereafter, the mix of green ships obfuscating the reality of the situation. The Rebel vessels had fled to the far side of Bakura, separated from the Arrowhead Command section. Despite Tullius's reassurance, they maintained their formation, facing Bakura like a fleet primed for invasion.
"Incoming request from the… Flurry, Commander. The Rebel flagship." I closed my eyes and breathed in, letting out a put-upon sigh before nodding my acquiescence. The holographic Bakura disappeared again, replaced by the visage of a woman. She cut a far sterner image than Tullius; tall, with imperious features and heavy-lidded eyes. Her uniform was Imperial, or Empire-adjacent, in its design - a plain tunic secured at the waist by a black leather belt. Instead of a rank plaque or set of code cylinders, the Rebel officer had some odd, triangular emblem over her chest that I did not recognize.
"Dominant, this is Captain Manchisco of the Flurry." She said as a greeting, neither of us offering each other salutes.
"Commander Pter Thanas. I extend my thanks and those of the Empire to you for your assistance, Captain." It was only polite to thank them, but I was also genuinely thankful for their help. My words to Tullius had not been untrue, had he never arrived the Rebels would have been the true saviors this day. My thanks did not warm the chilly expression on Machisco's face.
"The pleasure is ours, Commander. The Alliance prides itself on protecting the innocent and helpless. Though I am very interested in what happens now. My… superiors are interested in meeting with your government, but not if they need to worry about a Star Destroyer breathing down their backs."
"Captain Tullius has agreed not to engage your forces until he has a better accounting of the situation," I reassure her, "Though, it appears you already have a history together?"
"If you can call it that," Manchisco made a face, one of such anger that I worried she would jumpstart a battle here and now, "He ambushed my section at Endor. A lot of good men and women died that day; I'm not eager to add to his tally."
I understood her loss, even if I was not commiserating with her. They were Rebels, after all. They had chosen their side, and it was only natural that the Empire render out judgment at the end of the turbolaser. Instead of saying as much, I merely nodded solemnly.
"Your ambassadors have my word, no harm shall befall them on Bakura. Even if I need to be on the world myself to keep Tullius in line." It was a large promise to make if Manchisco's quirked eyebrow was anything to go by.
"This… Captain Tullius will be on Bakura?" She asked slowly, to which I nodded, "... Very well. This is acceptable. Await our arrival, Commander."
Again, I nodded, and the communication cut out. It was only after the hologram of Bakura returned did I realize what Manchisco had said: I was awaiting their arrival, hers included. So I would need to balance a Rebel officer with a score to settle against an Imperial officer who commanded the largest force in the system.
Joy.
Rivejer Tullius
"Captain, we don't need supplies. At best speed, we could reach Galantos within a couple of weeks," Commander Harand argued, he and Screold standing in front of the medical gurney I was seated on. I winced as the medical droid plunged a new needle into my shoulder, another inoculation - local this time, rather than general. It had been too long since I had been planetside, and I hadn't the time to deal with whatever illness I might pick up on Bakura. Harand had taken this battery of injections as a chance to convince me against getting involved here, and honestly he was doing a good job of convincing me. Alien invaders, rebel ships, Bakuran collaborators; now that the moment had passed, the idea of fighting here lost much of its lustre. Unfortunately, Screold had decided to argue against his recommendations.
"This is a loyalist world," She said, her unflinching gaze locked on me as Harand shook his head, "We can't abandon them to the whim of insurgents and aliens."
"She's right, you know." I say airily, eyeing the medical droid with suspicion as it switched to another needle.
"We are under orders to return to the core, orders from the Grand Admiral himself. We must be realistic on what we can do and where!" Harand's rebuttal was more reasoned than Screold, which was doubly surprising to me as Screold had always been the voice of practicality. As had Harand… and Matread, for that matter.
Maybe my staff needs an idealist?
"He's right, you know," I add again, still distracted now that the droid was putting a bandage over my shoulder. At this point, neither officer was listening to what I was saying - so focused on arguing as they were. I pulled my tunic back on, formulating a justification for my decision as I went; one that would satisfy both sides.
"Our adventure across the Moddell Sector has made me perhaps cautious than I need be, but I will not commit our survival into the hands of good fortune. I want our cargo holds full before we wander into the barren west, and I intend to impress upon the local governor that we are not at his disposal."
I had not escaped Randd only to go galavanting into the waiting hands of the next Moff I came across. Too many stimulants and too little sleep had made my temper short and my patience thin.
Unfortunately, my master plan had made neither part pleased - Harand for the waste of time, and Screold for us abandoning the Bakurans to their fate. Such was life, hopefully Matread would agree with me; one part of the Conqueror commanding quadrumvirate on my side.
"Shall I have an account made of our reserves?" Screold asked after a long moment, her shoulders sagging somewhat. I had nearly forgotten Screold's recent philanthropic tendencies, Vasha already seemed like a distant memory. My pocket book felt lighter by the day, and an overhaul of the Conqueror seemed much more distant.
"Of course," I said with a wave of my hand, though I very much did not want to, "Compensating the Bakurans is only natural."
Screold's eyes widened briefly before she gave a sharp nod, whatever revelation she seemed to have lost on me. Before I dismissed them, I gave the two officers their orders while I was on Bakura itself. The section would maintain its position and formation, daring the rebels to act while awaiting a potential follow-up strike from the invaders. While I would have liked nothing more than to squad those rebels before their potential comrades could arrive, the time and resources it would take to chase them around the system made me balk.
I took my personal shuttle down to the planet's surface, escorted by a cadre of the Conqueror's stormtrooper detachment. As we approached Bakura, I had to grudgingly admit that it was a beautiful world. Near to the equator, where the seat of the planetary government was located, Bakura was a temperate place, and one familiar to my heart. Rolling plains, dense forests, and a general lack of development reminded me of home; Naboo. I had chafed on the world during my childhood, taking the first opportunity to escape it when I was accepted in the Eriadu youth programs. Yet, as the years have passed, I longed to return to my native soil and breath in the tranquility of old Naboo.
I shook my heard, clearing it of such wishful thoughts. My shuttle spun about, landing at the Salis D'aar spaceport. Bakura was a young world relatively speaking, and so it capital city still held much of that colonial aesthetic. Prefabricated structures with a lack of uniformity, but already a certain style was beginning to develop.
The ramp to my shuttle opened, letting in the humid air of the world. I fought down a cough, trying to will my lungs into adapting to the atmosphere as my first two guards marched down the ramp. I followed, with two more soldiers a half-dozen paces behind me.
Unlike what Randd and I had done for Teshik, I was not greeted by rows of Armytroopers or security personnel. Men and women of varying ages, alongside a few sparse Armytroopers, stood just outside the landing pad's perimeter. The civilians were all dressed in more ceremonial robes or tunics, an emblem emblazoned on their left breasts where an officer would have his rank plaques. As I approached, I could make out what appeared to be the primary continents of the world surrounded by a golden wreath. Government officials, unless I were mistaken.
"Captain Tullius, we welcome you to Bakura," The frontmost official said, he and his fellows bowing to me in greeting, "I am Minister Jaemus Cundertol, of the Foreign Office."
"The 'Foreign Office'?" I ask before I could stop myself, taken aback, "Why does an Imperial governor need a foreign office to greet other Imperials?"
"Ah, I do not represent Governor Nereus, but rather the Bakuran Senate," Cundertol elaborated, appearing briefly annoyed by the implication that he answered to Nereus. I blinked, letting my gaze move from the Minister to his fellows, and I came to the realization that there were zero Imperial officials present - discounting the Armytroopers.
"I… see. I was told I would be meeting with the Governor directly." I said slowly.
"Governor Nereus is not the only power on this world, Captain," Cundertol said forcefully, his expression stony as his fellows nervously shuffled, "The Senate has requested the presence of you and the representatives of the Rebel Alliance, to ensure cooperation and the primacy of Bakura's authority in this system."
Primacy of Bakura's authority? I might have laughed in the man's face, were I not so completely dumbfounded by his words. In my years as a naval officer, never had a local government had the gall to get between the local Imperial authority and the fleet. I made a mental note to review Bakura's history, for clearly they had little grasp on the relationship between Imperial subject and Imperial officials.
Yet, I stayed both my hand and tongue. I would play their game, and then speak with the officials that mattered.
The galaxy must be going mad, I decide, following the Bakuran officials as they led me toward a speeder, It's as if having a Star Destroyer means nothing to them!
Capital Ships:
Conqueror – Imperial I-Class Star Destroyer – Captain Rivejer Tullius, Lieutenant Ashsca Screold, Commander Rius Harand, Chief Wyatdrew Matread, & Commander Ciena Ree
Intimidation – Imperial I-Class Star Destroyer – Lieutenant Milgern
Cruisers:
Intrepid – Victory I-Class Star Destroyer – Lieutenant ?
Steadfast – Victory I-Class Star Destroyer - Lieutenant Zanus
Viscount – Strike-Class Medium Cruiser - ?
Contester – Strike-Class Medium Cruiser - ?
? – Strike-Class Medium Cruiser - ?
? – Strike-Class Medium Cruiser - ?
Frigates:
? – Carrack-Class Light Cruiser - ?
? – Carrack-Class Light Cruiser - ?
? – Carrack-Class Light Cruiser - ?
? – Carrack-Class Light Cruiser - ?
? – Carrack-Class Light Cruiser - ?
Corvettes:
? – Lancer-Class Frigate - ?
? – Lancer-Class Frigate - ?
? – Lancer-Class Frigate - ?
? – Lancer-Class Frigate - ?
