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Shuttle Docking Bay, CENN Machu Pichu, Kafrene Outpost
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The Upsilon crew waited patiently for the space-suited Guardians to slowly wave the First Order shuttle aboard. The trio of deck crewmen scurried about the Confederate landing pad to prepare for the visitor's landing.
One of the groundcrew used lighted pylons to guide the allied shuttle to its allocated parking space. As soon as it was through the gap and settled between the ship's two Rhino Beetle shuttles, one of the other crewmen activated the armored blast doors and radioed the bridge that they could reactivate the ship's energy shield. Space Force still lacked the ability to locally drop their ray and particle shields over specific areas of their vessels. Like their President, it was all or nothing with the Earthlings. As soon as the blast doors were sealed the third crewman began the momentary process of repressurizing the shuttle bay with a breathable atmosphere.
The whole process had been witnessed several times by the visitor on various other Space Force vessels, and it never ceased to bore him. To him, it brought up stories of ancient times. These were the behaviors his space-traveling ancestors might have partaken in during the Hundred Years of Darkness or the crusades under Supreme Chancellor Contispex I. Their novelty was enhanced by the fact that these Terrans could barely travel between their planet and its satellite moon before the arrival of the First Order two years ago.
"Their primitiveness is a hindrance, my Lord. Everything they do takes ten times as long as anything similar we engage in." Count Stynnix groused to Admiral Jethran. His adjutant had forgone his normal dark First Order tunic and had donned the red stormtrooper armor of his station. Like General Crisis, who had returned to Titan after the Battle of Rimward Anax, the Count found the Earthlings rather aversive to armor that so closely resembled that of their hated foes; the 2nd Galactic Empire.
"One whose path has taken a new turn is often initially disoriented. But as time passes, and the path continues steadily in its new direction, there is a tendency to believe that it will remain so forever, with no further turns. If not us, then the Empire is teaching our allies the value of efficiency and speed" Admiral Jethran replied as he watched the ship's blast door close over them from one of the starboard viewports.
"It doesn't seem as if they're taking the lessons they're learning on Anax to heart, sir. Admiral Hollander's offensive is two months behind schedule. At this rate, I'll be five orbits older by the time we've settled Nal Kuat."
"You doubt our ally's convictions?" Jethran turned in his seat. Stynnix had yet to don his helmet which gave the Admiral a chance to study his subordinate's reaction.
"Oh, they're earnest enough. Their thirst for revenge seems to have warped their entire society if their histories are correct. I just hope their single-minded focus on Anax doesn't alter our own plans for the Supreme Leader's redoubt. I mean no insult, but why are we continuing to support this course of action? Surely, Anax could have been bypassed by now." Stynnix suggested.
"Judicar would have been a much more valuable acquisition. At least with it we could have plugged the Bloodstripe Run. But our end-goal has never been possession of the hyper-route and its colonies, the Kuati System notwithstanding. Our part in the grand scheme is the baiting and destruction of Admiral Gentis's fleet, so that our ally may be free to achieve their greater goals." Jethran reminded his adjutant.
"Some ally they've turned out to be. Crisis has them training to be pilot replacements back on Titan now. Their performance reports are less than desirable from what I've seen."
"Alliances are useful in some situations. In others, they are absolutely vital. But they must always be approached with caution. Unity of that sort is based on mutual advantage. While that advantage exists, the alliance may stand firm. But needs change, and advantages fade, and a day may come when one ally sees new benefits to be gained in betraying another. The warrior must be alert to such changes if he is to anticipate and survive an unannounced blow. Fortunately, the signs are usually evident in time for defense to be planned and executed. There is also always the possibility that changes will serve to meld the allies even more closely together." Jethran instructed. "It is rare, but it can happen."
"Perhaps that's what Anax has done. We weren't even supposed to partake in the battle, and now we've lost the Rage and the Supreme Leader only knows how many irreplicable TIE pilots fighting over the place." Count Stynnix pointed out.
He didn't know how right he was. Fuel issues continued to cripple the allied fleets, but despite the recent loss of the Rage, Jethran had managed to bring up the Maxima-A Heavy Cruisers, the Hurt and the Cult, to support the Resurgents, Vulgalizer and Slayer who had remained impotent at Kafrene Outpost after the loss of so many of their TIE Squadrons at the Battle of Rimward Anax. The two First Order Maxima-A, larger than anything in Space Force, and perhaps the Imperial Navy except the Ares, had been joined by two light Star Destroyers, the Hostilizer and Dishonor. The two Imperial II class ships had brought the remainder of the First Order TIE Corps with them to replace the losses at the front. The alliance was depending more and more on the involvement of its Home Galaxy partner.
"That's why we are here today. This flotilla is going into the Anax System. We will observe our allies and discover the trick to resolving this bottleneck one way or another." Jethran said. And if the alliance still stood, then so be it. He'd be stanged if the designs of the First Order vanished into thin air due to the ineptitude of Terrans.
The shuttle pilot commed back to the passenger pilot that the hangar was pressurized and that a small contingent of Confederates awaited them outside. A small squad of four Electroprod Stormtroopers led the way off the Upsilon. They formed an honor guard at the bottom of the rear boarding ramp. Admiral Jethran, with his cloak flowing behind him, descended the metallic slope.
At the bottom of the ramp stood five Space Force officers in front of an honor guard of armed Guardians. They held out their BAR slugthrowers in salute to Admiral Jethran. The highest-ranking Earthing saluted the First Order guests. Jethran noted the dark-skinned man wore the stars of a Rear-Admiral. "Admiral Jethran, it is an honor to finally meet you. When Theater Command radioed that the Admiral was coming over, I was afraid I was going to have to babysit Admiral Hollander. You know how it is with officers that come from the First Lady's crowd. Bunch of milk-sop, bleeding hearts. I'm sure you have the same type where you come from."
"Something of the sort. Though they don't tend to rise to such heights as Admiral Hollander." Jethran admitted. "You must be Admiral Blissex."
"I am, sir, I am. Rear Admiral Wally Blissex, 6th Eiffel Squadron Commander. This here is my flagship, the Machu Pichu. There is no finer warship in all of Space Force." Blissex introduced himself, but neglected to mention his command staff. Jethran noted that the man sure seemed to like the sound of his own voice.
"Yes, the Eiffels are quite the rancors of Harris's fleet." Jethran was being polite. Eiffels were based off CIS designs for Providence Dreadnaughts utilized during the Clone War. They had no place going against Imperial class Star Destroyers of the Imperial Navy, but they could hold their own against the lesser ships in the Empress's navy. Of course, it hardly needed to be mentioned that they were outclassed and out-blastered by every warship in Jethran's own 7th Fleet of Conquest.
"We've only lost one since the war began. Of course, you lost some ships in that scuffle around New Thyfeeria too. Akfar blundered there. Strange though. He was a steadfast Harris man. Should have blown right through the ETs that day." Blissex talked as if loyalty to the President was all it took to win a battle.
"No one is immune to failure. All have tasted the bitterness of defeat and disappointment. A warrior must not dwell on that failure, but must learn from it and continue on." Jethran replied. What he didn't say, but knew fully well, was that not all learned from their errors. That is something those who seek to dominate others know very well, and know how to exploit it. If an opponent has failed once at a local problem, his enemy will first try the same type of problem, hoping the failure will be repeated. What the manipulator sometimes forgets, and what a warrior must always remember, is that no two sets of circumstances are alike. One challenge is not like the other. The would-be victim may have learned from the earlier mistake. Or there may have been an unanticipated or unknown crossing of life paths.
"Well said, sir. I must ask, of course, as to your purpose here today. We can see out our windows that you have six of your own warships hiding amongst the hundreds of moons here in the Kafrene." Blissex asked.
"I have come to understand that your 6th Cruiser Squadron is about to undertake a mission into the Anax. Is that not so?" Jethran looked to Count Stynnix for confirmation. The armored officer replied with an affirmative nod.
"Aye, we are, sir. I trust you've heard of the orbital supply missions pioneered by Captain Mallory of the 22nd Revenge Squadron. They've been using corvettes to send in a whole reinforcement Legion to Anax and keep them fed and armed from high altitude. Now it's our turn to try it with something bigger. The Eiffels" Blissex revealed.
"I've heard of the Earth Express, as the enemy's HoloNews has dubbed it. I'm surprised you decided to utilize cruisers for such a mission." Count Stynnix interjected.
"Well, the thing is, I wanted to use my big guns to flatten this Pride Rock place. I've actually eight Revenges riding convoy and doing the heavy lifting. We're just here to keep the Imps off the haulers." The Earthling backtracked.
"Interesting, and without a designated carrier. You don't suspect the Empire will use their TIE cover to stop you?" Jethran asked.
"They can try. We're coming in during the day, when they're blinded by those coronal mass ejections bursting off the local star. That should keep their fighters grounded on Anax, and you chased that coward Admiral Lokaros back to Judicar with his tail between his legs. Nobody has seen a Star Destroyer in the Anax in weeks." Blissex chuckled.
"I take it you have had some luck dealing with the Imperial Navy, so far?" Jethran inquired.
"Sure, sure. We weren't up front with Akfar's boys at the start of the war but we chased the ETs out of Ashoth IV and Doriana. Thought we might get sent all the way back to Mars after all those railways got destroyed last week in some kind of wild-west uprising, but this mission came up. So here we are." Blissex smiled proudly, as if he was here to solve all of the alliance's problems in a single supply run.
"It sounds as if you've had an interesting war." Stynnix told the Confederate Rear Admiral.
"Ah, clearing out alien backwaters for 1st Fleet. Still, it beats riding convoy duty for 2nd. But it's our squadron that is on the line of scrimmage now." Blissex hinted at big moves afoot.
"Admiral Hollander is lucky to have units such as yours at the front. May I trouble you to disclose some of your mission objectives and your plan of attack?" Jethran asked in hopes of getting a better understanding of his ally's tactics.
"Putting my own spin on the Mallory approach. I've split my force into two sections. Basically, I'll run in with the three Eiffels and a pair of Revenges and stomp the shit out of Pride Rock. Won't be an ET alive once we're done. While we're doing that, I've got two Spielbergs riding herd on six more Revenges. They'll go in and do a low-altitude supply drop over our Legion boys on the ground." Blissex said.
Jethran was disappointed in the Earthling. There was no mention of formations, how they planned to avoid detection from Imperial scouts or collision with the highly-radiated CMEs. Jethran wondered why Blissex wanted to split his force and what one force was expected to do if the other came under attack. Blissex didn't seem to have any brighter idea than go right at the Imperials and shoot them up. If he wanted to learn anything he'd have to see conditions with his own eyes.
"Sounds impressive." Jethran lied. "I hope this wouldn't be a bother, but would you mind if we tagged along to witness your cruiser squadron in action. As you know Admiral Hollander has been after us to deploy our own troopers inside the Anax System and I'd like to see how an expert handles it."
"Don't mind her. She's a political appointee. The President hasn't said a peep about using your ground forces in the theater so I wouldn't expect it to happen. But as to your request; hell yes, you can tag along. If the ETs come out and play, we will just smash them like they did at the Battle of the Azure Moon." Blissex laughed. The fool hadn't been at the Azure Moon when the Imperial Navy had lost so many of its old Venators to a surprise attack two months ago. "Please, follow me to my bridge."
"I'd be honored." Jethran said. He shared a knowing look with Count Stynnix. Obviously, they shared the same low opinion of the Terran commander.
Perhaps it would all go as Blissex had planned. The local Imperial Naval commander had yet to impress anyone over Anax. If it didn't, well then it was time Blissex learned war wasn't all fun and games.
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Bridge, Victory-class cruiser, Charger, flagship of Imperial taskforce entering the Anax System
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Captain Kendy Edivon wondered how she had gotten saddled with a superior whom she considered a few steps up the evolutionary ladder from a Kowakian monkey-lizard. Admiral Lokaros, the commander of the naval portion of Operation Barbican, looked to be trying to wear out the heels of his boots as he paced the Charger's deck. Every so often Edivon swore she could hear him muttering to himself. His eyes and skin looked shallow and wracked by stress.
Edivon had planned on a few more weeks inside the Judicar System. Lokaros had been shaken by the damage the Slash had taken during the Battle of Rimward Anax and had been content to remain on blockade duty while the CEN resupplied their forces on Anax. If it hadn't been for the brave TIE Squadrons protecting the forested world, she was sure it would have fallen into the enemy's hands by now.
The Slash had been towed back to Nal Kuat for repairs, despite intercepted reports from the Confederate News Network that said she had been destroyed. Unfortunately, the same couldn't have been said for the Quasar Fire, the Might, which had struck a mine and gone down over Anax. Until more Quasars could be completed over the next few months, the Quill was the only Star Destroyer protecting the coreward half of the Bloodstripe Run. One would think the Admiral would have placed his flag on that vessel instead of her own. After all, a Victory SD was much smaller than an Imperial II class Star Destroyer.
Lokaros had only been aboard for the last rotation. Admiral Vertitas had arrived in the Judicar system and come aboard the Quill. Lokaros was a political creature, not a fighter like Vertitas. Thinking he was being replaced he had shuttled over to the Charger and taken a squadron of cruisers and Raider corvettes back into the Anax. Edivon wondered who the Admiral was more afraid of, his possible replacement or the enemy.
The Admiral had devoted a large amount of time to building his own defenses. He had spent the morning on holo calls back to the Rhombus or to Moff Hinter. Most of which went unanswered. He even tried to ignore comms from the Fleet Admiral at Nal Kuat about his intentions. Edivon thought both Vertitas and Gentis were fighting officers and were both probably content that the fight was being carried back into the Anax momentarily. Captain Edivon would have been content with either of them in command over the clearly over-rated Admiral Lokaros.
The Anax System was beautiful when one looked at it objectively. Anax Alpha was having a heavy CME rotation with nearly five times the amount of mass ejections from the day before. The superheated, irradiated tendrils swirled away from the star in a display of colors along the entire light spectrum. While breath-taking, it would also play havoc on their sensors. Edivon predicted more harassment bombings from Kafrene Outpost but Space Force had just tried to run supplies to the planet two rotations ago and usually kept to a pattern of four or five rotations between delivery attempts. Hopefully, the system was all theirs for the day.
"Captain Edivon, a word if I may?" Lokaros called to her silently from the port side viewport.
Edivon reported as ordered, "Admiral?"
"Captain, your family has pull in the core worlds do they not?" Lokaros quietly asked. He was acting as if he was watching the stellar light display as they approached Azure, but was secretly side-eying his subordinate.
"I wouldn't know about that, sir." If he was accusing her of buying her commission, he was sorely mistaken. Gentis had cleared that sort of officer out of high command after the disgrace of the Admiralty. "My father and aunts are the owners and board of INFRAC. We own a third of the fuel mining in the Vaedor System. We're rich but we're not Gage Kuat rich, if that's what you're asking."
"The Imperial Navy is full to the brim with your fuel. It's the reason we don't suffer the shortages our foes do from Kafrene Outpost all the way back to Earth. Perhaps, that supply could translate into some sort of edge with the Fleet Admiral or command at the Rhombus?" Lokaros tested her.
"Our influence is mainly within the Mining Guild, Admiral. My service and loyalties are to the Navy while I'm in this uniform." Edivon attempted to remind the Admiral to think of his own duties. They were entering a war zone after all.
'Admirable, Captain, but your father could . . ."
"Admiral, have you seen to your taskforce's dispositions? Are you absolutely sure, this is the formation best suited for our patrol?" Edivon cut him off. If the Admiral's ship was sinking, she was not going to throw him a life line.
"Of course. What were they again?" Lokaros looked genuinely distracted by his own concerns back in the Empire.
"You've deployed us in a single line-ahead formation. Three Raiders at the lead with Sortie in the vanguard. Then we lead the center Venators, followed by the two rear Raiders. We are to zigzag the orbital space between Anax and Azure for several hours."
"Yes, that sounds acceptable. Our biggest concern should be mines, I would think." Lokaros shrugged his weary shoulders.
"Sir, we've already had sighting reports that several Eiffels were on the move last night in the Kafrene. They and their escorts could be sailing towards us as we speak." Edivon handed her superior a flimsi with the report from a cloaked stealth ship hiding among the enemy fleet one system rimward from their current location. The report ended with a TIE patrol out of Pride Rock reporting seeing several large enemy vessels emerging from the Oort Cloud between the two systems only an hour ago.
"Nonsense. They wouldn't bring in anything heavier than a Europe or a Spielberg without the First Order shepherding them along. And our cloaked ships haven't reported any movement from them in the past week." Lokaros waved the flimsi away without reading it. "Steady on, Captain. The most we will have to deal with are harassment bombers from Kafrene."
Edivon felt as if she were talking to a durasteel bulkhead. "Aye, sir. Steady on."
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Bridge, Machu Pichu, Eiffel Squadron 6, Anax System
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Rear Admiral Blissex's three heavy Eiffels and two Revenges thrust coreward across the Anax System, swerving back and forth among the colorful CMEs, and towards Pride Rock. On came the Eiffels, Machu Pichu, Rushmore and Petra, all veterans of planetary invasions all the way back to Mars, with the Revenges, Cannae and Zama riding off their bows.
The Technical Sergeant acting as steward delivered the strange drink to Admiral Jethran and Count Stynnix. His adjutant had to remove his helmet to drink from the straw in the plastic cup. Jethran nodded to the enlisted man. "Thank you."
"Boba tea. What a strange novelty." Stynnix observed. "I guess that's what happens when you let your Trade Federation run your entire military's commissary corps."
"Indeed." Jethran agreed. He had spent decades on ships served by droids or enlisted cooks, where the main meals had been gruel or food stuffs. A cup of juice was a luxury, let alone this exotic concoction. As he carefully downed one of the small gelatinous balls at the bottom of his drinks, he wondered how much supplies were left behind on Earth it its place. He was sure the starving Legionnaires on Anax were wondering the same thing.
Admiral Blissex sat in his command chair behind his two helmsmen. The rest of the bridge crew sat at stations along the walls of the compartment attending to their various duties. They had donned evo suits in preparation for battle with the hoods hanging limply from the backs of their collars. Jethran and his party observed from the back of the bridge, where chairs and snacks had been brought for their comfort. Jethran had learned that the Earthlings had designed their bridges to resemble a set from one of their popular holodramas about a fictitious space exploration vessel.
"What do you think of our host so far, sir?" Stynnix asked. They were just out of earshot from the nearest Terran.
"Blissex needs to pay more attention on his command and less on his preening. A leader is responsible for those under his authority. That is the first rule of command. He is responsible for their safety, their provisions, their knowledge, and, ultimately, their lives. Those whom he commands are in turn responsible for their behavior, and their dedication to duty. Any who violates his trust must be disciplined for the good of the others. But such discipline is not always easy or straightforward. There are many factors, some of them beyond a commander's control. Sometimes those complications involve personal relationships. Other times it is the circumstances themselves that are difficult. There can also be politics and outside intervention. Failure to act always brings consequences." Jethran narrowed his eyes at the Terran commander's back. "But sometimes, those consequences can be turned."
"You're saying he needs to focus more on the inside than the out. His concern for political matters back in the Sol System and his distaste for Theater Commander Hollander distract him." Stynnix replied.
"Perhaps. Have you noticed he's lost contact with the landing force he's been ordered to escort. None of his sensor technicians or comm troopers have them on their displays. Yet, none of them have reported their errors or even attempted to rectify the matter. His deployment of the Revenges' X-1 scouts has been strange as well." Jethran explained.
"He sent the four craft forward did he not?"
"He did. To Pride Rock. We know where that is. We do not know of the presence or whereabouts of any Imperial Navy units in the area." Jethran observed.
"Ah, the most those scouts can do now is alert the TIE squadrons we're in the neighborhood. Blissex has already tipped his sabac and doesn't even know it." Stynnix concern was only masked by his commander's benign interest in the crews' behavior. "I'll make sure your shuttle crew is standing by, in case they're needed for a quick exit."
"Do that, but I'd like to remain as long as possible. I'd like to see if the Imperial opponent has the wherewithal to counter Blissex's error." Jethran replied. So far, in the Anax, neither side had impressed him. Perhaps that would change today.
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Bridge, Victory class SD Charger, Imperial patrol line, in between Anax and Azure
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"Three bogeys on bearing two-one-three, down bubble twenty-eight degrees, ma'am. Identity unconfirmed." The technician manning the full-spectrum subspace sensor reported.
"Has the Admiral been told?" Captain Edivon asked.
"Yes, ma'am. He didn't issue any change to current orders." Her bridge commander replied. They both looked across the bridge to where the Admiral was pacing in front of the forward viewport. "The Battle of Phu just sent us this report."
Edivon took the flimsi report that had originated with the last Venator in the cruiser group. One large, two small vessels, one-six-zero-zero off Azure northern hemisphere. Continue to investigate with sensors. Awaiting orders. She handed it back to the bridge commander. "Give this to the Admiral."
She turned to her gunnery officer, "Mark targets along that vector. Prime all weapons for shield and armor penetration."
"Aye, aye, Captain." Both officers replied. There was silence on the bridge as the seconds ticked away. Edivon watched as Lokaros received the report from the Battle of Phu and noted the bridge officer was waiting for a reply.
Lokaros lowered the flimsi and looked at the course plot on Navigation's holoprojector. Everyone on the bridge was waiting for his command. The Admiral turned to the helmsman. "Execute to follow. Column left to course two-three-zero, drop angle of attack thirty degrees."
Captain Edivon smiled. The taskforce had found its fight. But her elation was instantly replaced with confusion. Why was her ship turning?
In a column turn, ships turn to the designated heading upon reaching a fixed point in space. The leader turns, and each successive ship follows on as soon as it reaches the leader's thruster baffles. In such a maneuver, each ship retains it place in the column, following its predecessor's thrusters. It was on this basic curriculum, elementary to any course in naval ship-handling, that Lokaros foundered his entire battle plan.
As sensors confirmed, his counter-turn should have crossed directly in front of the approaching ships, allowing every Imperial ship in the column to open up with all their batteries in a perfect broadside. But Lokaros's notion of timing and the spacing of his ships was thrown in disarray as soon as the van Raider, the Sortie, threw her thrusters over.
Quite unexpectedly, Admiral Lokaros ordered the helmsman of the Charger to turn simultaneously with the Sortie. This error immediately orphaned the three Raiders in the lead and threw a vital decision to the captain of the Battle of Hypori. Following astern of the Charger, he faced a decision that needed to be decided in a snap. Should he orphan the errant Charger or keep the line intact by following the Raiders? He chose the former course. As the Battle of Hypori turned and the Battle of Phu and Transform followed her, Lokaros' leading trio of Raiders forged out into the Void alone.
"Open blast as soon as you have a confirmed fix on the enemy." Lokaros ordered.
"Admiral, this ship changed course prematurely. The line has been cut in two and local natural jamming from Anax Alpha has caused us to lose track of the lead Raiders." Edivon rushed across the bridge. She wanted to grab him and shake him. His mistake had caused them to lose three ships right next to potential enemy forces.
"What? I didn't realize. Find those ships now!" All of the color went out of Lokaros's features as he realized what had happened.
"Sir, we are still on hyperwave silence. There's no indication the enemy has sighted us yet." The bridge commander reminded the taskforce commander.
"We are getting contact reports from all three Venators, ma'am. Our own turbolasers are now tracking the lead bogey." Gunnery reported, leaning more pressure on the Admiral. There was no way of knowing if his battle line was tracking Space Force ships or the three lost Raiders.
"Transform reports a cluster of targets at sixty degrees relative." Another technician reported, which meant the target was almost level to the Venator. A perfect blasting solution.
"That could be the Raiders." Lokaros said. Edivon didn't think so, unless they had found the enemy and charged right towards them. They'd at least be seeing the flashes of blaster fire and torpedo trails if they had.
"Break silence, hyperwave the nearest Raider. Ask if they are taking station ahead." Lokaros grasped at straws, hoping the Raiders were racing along their flanks to retake their former position in the dark.
"Sortie replies in the affirmative. Currently moving up our starboard side." Celestial Navigation reported. Any Imperial battle plan called for stragglers to fall out on the disengaged side. The Raiders were accidentally moving between the two forces.
Edivon shouted to her hyperwave technicians to relay her orders. Lokaros looked dumbfounded as he was slowly realizing the mistake. "Do not rejoin! Until permission is requested giving bearing in voice-code of approach!"
The three Venators behind the Charger were not tracking the Raiders, nor had they seen them break contact when the column had severed at the turn. Their sensor technicians and gunners watched as the the range between Lokaros's broken column and the Confederate's onrushing bombardment group closed to thirty kilometers. The bridge commander pointed out the starboard viewport and excitedly reported to his two superiors. "Ships visible to the naked eye!"
"What are we going to do, board them?" Edivon snapped at the immobile Admiral. He remained silent as he tried to figure out his next move and the identity of those ships.
"Do we have to see the whites of the scums' eyes?" Edivon's gunnery commander whispered to the bridge commander.
The commander of the Transform didn't know what the problem was. All of the captains in the line, including Edivon, felt that a critical advantage was being frittered away by indecision. The short-wave hyperwave operator piped up. "Transform is requesting permission to open blast. They ask if you are receiving them?"
Lokaros seemed to shake from his stupor and muttered an affirmative, "Roger . . . I hear them."
His pause had lasted a fraction of a second too long. Instead of responding that the Admiral had received their transmission the young technician quickly responded to the Transform with two positive responses, "Roger. Roger."
With this critical exchange, which prompted the immediate and ferocious discharge of the Transform's eight dual DBY-827 heavy turbolaser turrets, a miscommunication compounded a previous miscommunication and the engagement that would be known as the Second Battle of Azure Moon spun into chaos, beyond the control of any single commander.
Throwing blaster fire against surface targets was what the Transform and her Clone War era sisters did best. It was a cruiser's first and only business, and so it went, muzzles flaring, spent tibanna casings kicking out to the turret deck, bolt hoists whining, projectile trays loading, breaches slamming and spinning shut and the turrets salvoing again. After the first salvo, due to the close range to target, the Transform switched to autonomous-continuous blasting mode. The experience was elemental.
Edivon watched as the Void between CMEs that had been still and inky black a moment before, had gone straight into blazing bedlam. Not a sailor on the bridge had a breath left in them. Without waiting for Lokaros to react to the Venator's barrage, Edivon turned and yelled at her own gunnery commander. "Blast! Stang you! Blast!"
The Charger's heavier turbolasers lashed out to starboard, planting a straddle just short of what was identified as a possible Eiffel twenty kilometers away. The directors were ranged up another kilometer and another salvo went out. Edivon smiled gleefully. The second fusillade never streaked into the Void. "All hits!"
As the Void blossomed in flames, the Battle of Phu's captain shouted encouragement to his sailors. "Pick out the biggest and commence blasting!"
The Battle of Phu's turbolasers were fixed on the same ship as the Charger, the leader of the Space Force column. Watching the massive ship approach and sustain the growing beating sent shivers through the Imperial taskforce. Edivon's gunnery commander commed his gunners in their battle stations. "There's always a bigger fish!" The effect worked magic as grins spread under hundreds of black-beetle shaped helmets and the turbolaser crews settled back and relaxed.
When the captain of the Battle of Hypori saw a corvette-sized target to starboard and persuaded himself that that the ship could not belong to the forward Raiders, he opened fire, too. Lokaros's cruiser column was fully engaged, opening blast from rear to fore.
With electron beam guidance homed in the Clone War's Outer Rim Sieges, to battles with Separatist Holdouts and emerging Rebels, to the Battle of Four Navies and dusted off during the embarrassing retreat down the Bloodstripe Run, gunner techniques in the Imperial Navy had removed errant human perception. Their opening salvos usually yielded immediate straddles and hits. Several outlying heavy bolts from the Charger's first broadside were seen to hit an Eiffel. After a correction of 'up one hundred', the length of a limmie pitch, the next salvo registered more heavily, and the Confederate ship was soon buckling and burning under a sensor and droid-brain controlled barrage. It happened so fast; the Earthlings never knew what hit them.
Variations in the efficiency of individual turbolaser crews reloaded by KS droids turned the structured cadence of full salvo blasting into a continous stacato as single turrets waged their own races against other turrets. When the blasting cycle reached full tilt, Captain Edivon and Admiral Lokaros's capacity to monitor the action with their own senses was obliterated by their ravenous muzzles. They could make out the position of the Venators only by the flashes of their turbolasers.
The captain of the Raider, Infector, at the end of the Imperial column, mistook the output of the cruisers for E-WEB fire. The Pantoran officer watched in wild, exultant cheer as the cruisers unleashed so much at such a murderous range. At twenty kilometers they could hardly miss, even if they wanted to.
Two minutes after the Charger opened fire, the warship had put out three hundred bolts from her main batteries. Out in the dark to starboard, Edivon could make out the long and roughly cylindrical-shaped hull, the tapered, cone-like bow and towering fin-like bridge spire. The ship was ready for action and returned fire. The flash of 'overs' nearly blinded her as the Charger was straddled fiercely. High explosive, rather than armor-piercing rounds, proved that the enemy was prepared for planetary bombardment rather than facing Lokaros's ships.
But there was no questioning the vector of the outcome. The throw-weight of Lokaros' line was beginning to tell. At least three enemy ships were burning in the Charger's immediate vicinity.
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Bridge, Eiffel-class cruiser, Machu Pichu
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The moon Azure shined brightly in the warm glow from Anax Alpha. The Coronal Mass Ejections from the star emitted a prism of lights that danced across the lunar surface of the natural satellite. In times of peace documentarians and tour guides would have made a killing showing the spectacle to those willing to pay a First Order credit.
Even Admiral Jethran was not immune to such beauty. Though not to such a degree as Admiral Blissex who fawned and gaped at the stellar display and made sure to point it out to every officer and runner who came onto the bridge, distracting them from their duties as well.
So, it was no surprise, that despite the heavy natural sensor jamming caused by the phenomenon, that no lookouts in the bombardment group noticed the approaching danger until it was too late.
The first inkling anyone had, Jethran included, of the Imperial presence was when at least four barrages were launched out of the darkness between the moon and its mother-world Anax. Like blooming Annaji Chromoflys, turbolasers by the score opened up as bolts roared out of the Void.
Jethran and his party, like many across the bridge, were knocked from their feet as the first bolts rushed in. The Machu Pichu was hit no fewer than thirty-four times in the first two minutes, knocking out two of her main turrets, her main turbolaser director, several sensor platforms, her deflector shield generator, her proton torpedo launcher and several of her fusion reactors. Her main communication mast toppled down and demolished five of her starboard anti-airspeeder mounts.
The helmsman violently jerked the controls of the ship to starboard, sending Guardians and equipment spilling across the deck as the inertia dampeners attempted to compensate. Admiral Blissex horribly grappled with what was happening to his stricken ship. He jumped out of his chair and shoved his hyperwave operator out of her chair. The Earthling had a horrible grasp on the situation, mistaking the ships in front of his own as the lost landing force he had be tasked to defend. He screamed into the mic and broadcast over every channel the ship could reach. "I am Machu Pichu! I am Machu Pichu! I am Machu Pichu!"
Jethran realized that the Terran commander's final thoughts as Imperial projectiles shattered their world, claiming the lives of seventy-nine Guardians and three of his escorting Stormtroopers, were apparently that a Confederate force, his reinforcement group, was firing at him.
As the heavy bolts slammed into the bridge, Blissex shouted in frustration. "Morons!"
A huge bolt, like an elemental Sith fury of legend, ripped through the forward viewport. In a millisecond, half of the Earthling commander's body was atomized as the projectile flashed past. With no armor to stop it, the massive bolt vaporized flesh and equipment alike. Everyone on the port-side of the bridge was killed instantly as the Imperial shot pierced the back of the bridge and escaped out into the Void once more.
The explosive decompression ripped Jethran from the floor. Guardians closer to the two gaping holes in the bridge were sucked out into space. Everything not tied down was whipped into a sudden tornado, with enough force to transform every piece of debris into a deadly shrapnel. Guardians were shredded by paperclips and pen caps.
Along with nearly everyone that wasn't strapped to a chair, Jethran was flung through the air. He bounced hard off the forward navigation screen, feeling his arm break. As he neared the hole in the rear of the bridge, armored shutters slammed over the gaping maw; a fail-safe in all starships to protect against just such an emergency. A similar shutter closed the front of the bridge off from the danger of defenestration. Jethran slammed back to the deck as compressed air repressurized the room. A hacking cough racked his body as he spit up pink frothy blood, indicative of pulmonary edema. His lungs were probably heavily damaged from the depressurization. He'd need to get to a bacta tank and a medical droid soon or risk permanent damage. Unfortunately, Confederate warships carried neither of those things.
Count Stynnix was at his side in an instant. His armor saved him from decompression sickness. With the aid of the lone surviving Stormtrooper they helped the Admiral back to his feet and then sat him in Blissex's now-empty command chair.
Studying the confusion outside, through the undamaged starboard viewport, Admiral Jethran watched as the Confederate formation started to scatter. The Machu Pichu was turning away from the Imperial ambush but her two sisters were following her maneuver and as the Machu Pichu cleared to starboard, it exposed the second Eiffel, the Rushmore, to the murderous barrage. Without acknowledgement of chain-of-command, Jethran leapt to his feet. "Contact Cannae and Zama. Have them launch torpedoes and lay down a smoke screen. All Eiffels are to follow the Machu Pichu in her counter-turn."
Groggy and battered Guardians returned to their stations as corpsmen rushed onto the battered bridge to deal with the wounded. They ignored the dead Admiral Blissex and focused on those they could save. With orders from someone in authority ringing out, they hurried to obey Jethran's orders. At least they made sense.
Jethran went over to the helmsman and laid a reassuring hand on the Guardian's shoulder. "Stay with me, and I will get you out of here."
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Bridge, Victory-class SD, Charger, Imperial Line
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For several tumultuous minutes, Admiral Martel Lokaros seemed seized by a crippling fear. Edivon's focus had been fixed on the burning ships to the fleet's starboard side, so much so, that she had nearly forgotten about the crisis the Admiral had caused by his errant maneuvering just moments before.
As the burning Eiffel turned out of formation and revealed the next Confederate cruiser, the Admiral turned and shouted an order that astonished everyone. "Endex blasting, all ships."
The cease-blast order was relayed to the task force. It no doubt came as a relief to the sailors and guardians on both sides when the firing slackened, but the Battle of Hypori never relented, even as Lokaros repeatedly ordered the Venator to check fire.
The captain of the Battle of Hypori hyperwaved back to the command ship. "Rapid blast, continuous. Begging your pardon, Admiral."
Edivon couldn't agree more with her rebellious counterpart aboard the Battle of Hypori. To cease blasting preemptively could get troopers killed.
The captain of the Sortie, the lead errant Raider, was the next voice on the comm channel. "We are on your starboard hand now, going up ahead."
The blasting continued, all the while Lokaros futilely repeating the cease-blast order on the hyperwave. Buck fever was rife, but so was insubordination. The Admiral had squandered any respect he ever had during the Battles of Azure Moon and Rimward Anax. Imperial sailors had died and now their surviving comrades wanted revenge.
The strains of discipline reached onto the Charger's own bridge. Edivon's own gunnery commander, activated his own comm channel and ordered his turrets to resume blasting. Edivon knew the man had lived on Mars and been forced to leave his wife, a Blubreen, behind in Amidala City, when the city had fallen to Confederate Legionnaires. He learned later that she had been killed by the occupiers. Every time one of the Charger's main turbolaser batteries trained on an Eiffel at point-blank range, he would let go with another salvo. Edivon watched the officer go wild. She didn't check him. He hated Solars with a passion and he never stopped the Charger from blasting.
In the excitement of the sudden contact and opening barrage, someone in engineering had doubled the speed of the Charger, and the three Venators had dutifully matched their leader. Edivon realized this. Only when she wondered what was taking the Raiders so long to clear the field of fire. Lokaros was almost solely focused on the Raiders rather than the Confederates by this point. "Sortie, confirm your last position."
"Affirmative. Moving up your starboard side." The Sortie confirmed again. The Raiders would need to hustle to avoid getting caught in the crossfire between the Imperial and Earthling lines.
The Incursion, directly behind the Sortie, announced its position by launching a broadside of proton torpedoes in a wide fan towards the enemy ships. The illumination caused by the projectiles revealed the small Raider was directly in the line of fire coming from the larger Transform.
Knowing that Lokaros had lost control of events. Edivon called the commander of the Sortie herself. "How are you? Were cruisers shooting at Incursion?"
"Incursion is wizard." The Sortie responded. "We are going up ahead on your starboard side. I do not know who you were blasting at."
Edivon knew the cruisers had to be firing at something out in the dark. Her eyes weren't playing tricks on her. "All corvettes, display running lights for ten seconds."
"Captain, that will give their positions away . . ." Lokaros complained, unwilling to over-rule her order.
Blue and red lamps flickered on and off towards their front, revealing the predatory shapes of the three Raiders to starboard and the two following the Venators. In front of the Transform was the odd shape of a Space Force Revenge. With friends having declared themselves friends, Edivon directed the cruisers to reopen their barrage to starboard.
Unfortunately, the short light displays also uncovered the positions of the Raiders to the enemy warships. The large bolt came from the Eiffel, Rushmore, and tore directly into the Sortie. The hit sliced the Raider's subspace antenna from the bridge superstructure, exploding spectacularly and sending a shower of fragments into its shield generator and pierced the fueling lines of a proton torpedo loaded into the corvette's quintuple mount. With a hiss of burning fuel, liberated by the penetration, the torpedo launched itself from the tube and wedged into the base of the Raider's port solar wing. Another bolt hit the port armor belt over the fusion reactor, knocking out all power and communications throughout the ship. Air rushed out of the ship as cold vacuum rushed in. Another bolt impacted the same location, ripping out more of her guts.
Altogether, between the Rushmore and Transform, the Sortie was struck by three Confederate and five Imperial bolts. One of the bolts likely came from her own Charger. Friendly cruisers shot up the Incursion, too. The Raider had turned her forward torpedo launchers on the rear Eiffel, the Petra, thirteen kilometers off her starboard bow when she took a hit to her bridge that knocked out fire control and set afire the handling room beneath her ion cannon turret. The Incursion's commander had no sooner managed to steady the ship and realign his torpedoes when another bolt burst forward of the director platform, disabling weapon guidance and mortally wounding the torpedo officer.
The enlisted sailor next to the officer fired the spread of torpedoes by manual control at the Revenge that had found itself among the Raiders. Almost immediately it was struck. It exploded and crumbled apart, spilling out its crew in their last agonizing seconds. It spun away and broke apart before disappearing as the battle passed it by. The Incursion would share its fate.
Another salvo slammed in, blasting the celestial navigation shop, killing the two security Stormtroopers and chief quartermaster. The main hyperwave suite was a total loss, with no survivors. The fire there merged with another coming from the number one fire room, fed by leaking hypermatter from the damaged annihilators and dented hypermatter bunkers. The Raider lost steering control from her thrusters and found itself circling helplessly in a left-hand turn. Trapped in an asphyxiating cloud of gas and smoke, the surviving crew could see little of the battle as they were carried out from between the two battle lines. But the corvette could not be saved. When the reactors lost power, the foam fire-fighting system failed too, and the fire spread, punctuated by the detonation of five decimeter bolts. Fighting a rear-guard action with hand-held extinguishers, the captain ordered the ship abandoned and led his sailors to the life pods. He helped board the wounded. Then with flames enveloping the launch bays, he found his only route of escape was to step into the last pod and shoot away from his doomed corvette.
The turbolaser fire from Lokaros's cruisers was prodigious, and when their lines of fire got clear of the obstruction presented by the van corvettes, they did far worse to their intended targets rather than their accidental ones. Tracked by all three of the Venators and the Victory along the axis of the Imperial column, the Rushmore took a series of heavy hits that would prove to be mortal. The Confederate Eiffel was hit in her number seven turret and her port torpedo tubes. Several of her loaded proton torpedoes caught fire, and the flames drew more fire from the Imperial ships.
Edivon watched as her sailors swept the beams of her subspace radar for her blast-control teams. They moved their sensors in a wide arc through the warship's engaged side. The extent of the destruction wrought by Lokaros's ships was reflected in the holoimaging of the bridge's battle-control computer. All of the enemy ships the subspace found were marked by her own eyes with blazing hypermatter fires.
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Bridge, Machu Pichu
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It took the Confederate captains some time to awaken to the reality that they faced a formidable enemy battle force. Admiral Jethran, however, had recognized the blasting patterns of small Star Destroyers, classified as cruisers nowadays, when he saw them. When Blissex had been killed he leapt into action to extract as many of the Space Force ships as he could.
The Confederate Eiffels had spent the first minutes of the Imperial ambush with their turrets turned in. Originally loaded for planetary bombardment of Pride Rock, hydraulic hoists with time-fused tibanna bolts designed to explode short of impact and throw searing plasma over a wide area, were finally alive to the challenge of the Imperial Navy.
"Fire one volley, then split full power to the shields and sublights." Jethran ordered the Earthling crew. Second later her own turrets roared once, shaking the ship violently as their blasting further aggravated the extensive damage the ship had taken in the opening barrage. "Cease fire!"
He watched as a high-explosive, anti-personnel bolt burst high against the Battle of Phu's superstructure, sending ripples out from her protective energy shields. While ineffective against a ship, it cleared the Machu Pichu's battered turbolasers for armor-piercing bolts to be loaded next.
The Battle of Hypori was struck by an eight-centimeter bolt from the Rushmore that pierced her shield and dented, then ruptured, her side plating, shattering the sleeping quarters used by the ship's junior officers. A minute later, two smaller rounds registered in the same location, blasting the captain's cabin and leaving it a wreck of twisted metal.
The Imperial fast-blasting cruisers had been delivering an overwhelming one-way barrage. Jethran glanced at the ship-condition display on one of the bridge's monitors. He doubted the Rushmore was going to survive the heavy beating she had received, while the Zama and Cannae had both been destroyed with all hands. The Machu Pichu needed to retreat and assess its own damage, while the last Eiffel, the Petra, had only sustained superficial damage so far.
He knew from years of experience, inside of two Galaxies and three major wars, that in battle circumstances are usually temporary and perceptions were almost always fragile. For unknown reasons, a short lull in the Imperial fusillade arose. Jethran wondered if the Imperial commander was trying to clear the trio of Raiders that had blundered into his blasting line. Jethran began a rapid-fire volley of course corrections to the Guardians manning the navigation and helm of the Machu Pichu as he started to pull the Eiffel away from the battle. Petra moved past the faltering Rushmore to join her. The Confederate Guardians used the reprieve well, as they continued to remove bombardment bolt rounds from their turbolaser chambers, replacing them with armor-piercing rounds engineered to kill ships.
The Petra moved ahead of the Battle of Hypori and blasted at the Venator unopposed for half a minute. The Battle of Hypori was straddled along the forward half of her forecastle, and suffered two huge hits. The first struck the barbette underneath turret one, crashed through a deck and lay in a compartment near the turret's stalk, an explosive-laden plasma time-bomb with a defective fuzz fizzing along. As the turret commander evacuated his gun crew, he ordered his two KX droids to try to safely free the bomb and toss it overboard. He hyperwaved the bridge and reported, "The fuse hasn't gone off yet, I can still hear it sputtering." They were his last words. The muffled blast of the two-hundred kilo projectile vented through the passageways, hatches, turbolifts and vents, incinerating or asphyxiating a hundred Imperial sailors in a flash.
There was no time to celebrate aboard the Machu Pichu as they were instantly batted down by two rounds from the Charger. One plastered the faceplate of Turret One, just forward of Jethran and below the bridge, melting the barrels of its two turbolasers and spackling the bridge tower with durasteel shrapnel. The second projectile was designed with a protective cap that broke away on impact and enabled it to retain its ballistic properties through several meters of armor plating. Bursting through the Eiffel's hull and exploding in the forward magazine, it sent a wash of flame through the forward handling rooms and up the stalks of the fourteen port-side quad-laser emplacements, roasting their entire crews at their stations.
Jethran was impressed when the Guardians went to work on damage-control and fire-fighting duties. They didn't need orders to save their own ships, as would have been common on a First Order vessel. Count Stynnix handed Jethran a fallen Stormtrooper's helmet to protect against the smoke slowly filling the bridge. Jethran ached from his own injuries as he donned the protection. Struggling against the fumes, firefighting teams dragged out heavy hoses filled with fire-fighting foam.
"Admiral, what are your orders?" The highest-ranked surviving officer on the bridge asked the First Order visitor.
"Contact Petra. She can cover the retreat. Order Rushmore to turn into Imperial forces and engage them at close quarters." Jethran snapped back. Sometimes in battle, as in Dejarik, there came a time to sacrifice a piece for the greater good.
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Charger
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Edivon watched the chrono mounted in the crew pit, keeping a silent record of her gunners' performance. Counting salvos and tabulating hits, she shook her head in disbelief at what the cruisers could throw. Next to her, Admiral Lokaros watched the fiery battle unfold with an entirely different set of feelings. He stood, white as Stormtrooper armor, fumbling about for word on the condition of his Raiders.
The battered Sortie and Striker fell behind the cruiser line, while the destroyed Incursion still burned furiously in the middle of the two smashed Revenges.
"Battle of Hypori is falling out to port to deal with damage control." The bridge commander stated. He addressed the report to Captain Edivon. The Admiral didn't seem to notice enough to object to the breach in protocol.
The burning Battle of Hypori illuminated the entire Imperial column, allowing the surviving Petra to rain shells along the Imperial battle line. As the Transform moved past her burning sister, a flurry of salvos landed all around the Venator. The mood changed as word of the Battle of Hypori raced through the fleet. The battle had been a game until then. This put even more fire into their fight.
"Eiffel to starboard." The gunnery commander shouted across the bridge.
The heavily damaged Rushmore was approaching the Imperial line. Its slow drift, indicative of the heavy damage its sublight drive had received. Edivon reacted naturally. "Shift target. Set her up and pour it to her."
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Eiffel-class, Rushmore
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The captain of the charging heavy cruiser glanced between the approaching Imperial battle line and the portrait of President Harris that hung on the side of his bridge. He ordered an ensign to take it down and prepare it for evacuation. But before he could do so he was killed by a small caliber bolt that pierced the bridge.
The commander of the Rushmore saw that his ship would never survive its current charge, In fact, he seriously doubted it would reach the enemy line at all. He turned and left the bridge to end his disgraceful ordeal. Once in his cabin he found that his pistol had been taken away from him. When he returned to the bridge to strap himself to the helm, he found no fasteners right for the job. The possible culprit confronted him. His executive officer pleaded with him to survive. As the two officers argued, vacuum ripped away the air on the bridge through several cracks in the nearby armor plating.
As the Rushmore foundered, the captain activated the life pods across his vessel and launched them unmanned into space. If they could do no good for the President, then his crew deserved to go down with their ship. Hundreds of empty life pods fell away from the Eiffel.
Her reactors failed and exploded, ripping the ship in two. Eight kilometers from the Charger, the Rushmore spun and then broke apart stern-first. Seventeen thousand officers and crew went down with her, with another two-thousand missing in action. The two other heavies, the Machu Pichu, heavily mauled, and the Petra, scarcely scratched, set course for Kafrene Outpost.
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Bridge, Machu Pichu
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The crew watched the holoprojections as the Imperial ships wasted time blasting the Rushmore to bits. The body count was going to be high, Jethran realized.
The Admiral hacked up blood inside his helmet like he was imitating General Grievous of old. Count Stynnix steadied him as the two Eiffels retreated out of turbolaser range from the ambushers. "We need to get you back to the Upsilon. The Slayer's medical teams will be standing by at Kafrene Outpost."
"Are the Eiffels clear?" Jethran asked. Stynnix turned and conferred with a Confederate officer for several minutes. Jethran had never abandoned troopers in combat and he wasn't about to do so now. Even if they were merely allies and not his own men.
"No sign of pursuit. The Rushmore has gone down, and it appears the enemy is busy dealing with its own damaged vessels." Stynnix reported. "We should be back in the Kafrene System in six hours if the sublights hold."
"Excellent. And what of the landing group?" Jethran inquired.
"Still under hyperwave blackout. They were slated to go in right about now, and if I had to guess the forces we faced never even noticed them."
Jethran knew there wasn't much else he could do. He wasn't familiar enough with the systems of an Eiffel to help much in her damage-control efforts. In his injured state he was more of a hindrance than a help. "Take me back to the shuttle. I need medical treatment."
"Aye, sir. I hope this visit wasn't a complete waste." Stynnix said. Guardians picked up the three fallen Stormtroopers and helped carry them back to the Upsilon. Jethran wondered why they did that as it would never have even occurred to his Supreme Leader to retrieve her dead.
"No, it wasn't. When we get back, I want you to prep the Hurt and the Cult. We're going to show our erstwhile allies how to perform a proper Base Delta Zero. And when we're finished, Pride Rock is going to be nothing more than rubble."
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Battle of Hypori
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In the damaged Venator, a gunner's mate pleaded with a KX-droid to allow him to enter one of the turrets to look for survivors. He refused to believe his younger brother, Cassian, was not alive in there somehow.
When the firefighter droids tried to ply their foam nozzles into the turrets via the hatches, they found several of them blocked by a grotesque clotting of charred bodies in Imperial grey, sailors and gunners who had given their last while trying to escape. The stymied droids opened the blast hatches atop the burned turrets and decompressed their interiors, sending clumps and pieces of burned bodies and pools of blood out into the Void.
As smoke spread below, sailors wearing rebreathers, evo-suits and Stormtrooper gear shored up the bulkheads and defenestrated burning compartments. The medical droids decided to move the sickbay from the wardroom to the battle dressing station to avoid the flames. One of these patients, who had his gallbladder removed a few days earlier, rose from his bunk and told the corpsmen converging on him. "Out of my kriffin' way, sleemos! I'm getting the fierfek out of here!"
Other cruisers thought the Battle of Hypori was doomed. But despite the evisceration of her forward stations and the pyrotechnic display that bloomed across her hull, her reactors and thrusters were intact. She was quickly ordered to flank speed. She accelerated to three hundred knots just as the last salvo from the Petra flashed past her previous position.
The Battle of Hypori would remain a burning beacon, and a pyre for over a hundred dead, visible for hundreds of kilometers, until her firefighters finally prevailed over the turret fires. At that point Lokaros's battle line seemed to vanish into the Void.
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Charger
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Without Lokaros's permission, Captain Edivon turned her Victory cruiser onto a rimward course to pursue the fleeing Eiffels. Wondering how many ships would be in a position to follow, she then thought twice about it and decided to retire.
Lokaros had no objection when she notified him of her decision.
The enemy had been silenced and the Imperial battle line was somewhat broken at the moment. A clear recognition of who was friend or foe had been the first casualty of battle, and that followed for several more hours into the next watch. The Second Battle of Azure Moon ended as if by tacit assent.
An hour later, as she was still attempting to get the column underway and pick up survivors from the destroyed Incursion, Edivon was approached by her bridge commander. "Action report from Pride Rock, looks like its from the Prince Consort himself."
"Air Marshal Roblin? Don't tell me the Solars ran another force around us while we were busy dealing with this one." Edivon asked. Lokaros noticed the exchange and strolled over to read the report himself.
The bridge commander continued. "Landing force intercepted by Anax Air Forces. One Spielberg plus one Revenge confirmed destroyed. Enemy able to land ground forces before detection. Own losses moderate. Surviving enemy force retreating rimward toward K.O."
"Stang it. Looks like our boys dirtside will have to hold out just a little longer." Edivon admitted. "At least now they know the Imperial Navy hasn't abandoned them."
Lokaros missed the rebuke from his subordinate. "So, a victory then?"
"It would appear so, Admiral. As long as the Battle of Hypori can hold together. We are arranging a tug to tow her back to Nal Kuat." Edivon admitted.
"I won." An eerie smile grew across his face. "Now Gentis can't send in Vertitas to replace me. Once the HoloNews gets a whiff of this, he's stuck with me."
The Admiral chuckled as he left the bridge. The bridge commander looked at her. "Looks like we are all stuck with him."
Edivon didn't react to her own subordinate. Gripes went up, not down, after all. But she knew the truth. The Admiral had been paralyzed by his own fear that he had destroyed his own Raider escort by accident that he had left the fighting to his captains. She had won the fight, not him. "Yes, that particular Admiral has a way of snatching defeat from victory."
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Up Next: An Old Enemy Returns