Bastion

The gray-haired, slightly built admiral certainly looked healthier than Theren had seen him in years. There was more color in his face, he walked with a stronger gate; even his eyes seemed to sparkle with the same fire they had years before. Retirement from his position at the front lines, it seemed, agreed with him.

It was for this reason that Theren simply could not fathom why now, months after his mentor’s promotion to Admiral and Executive Commander of Fleet Organization, he stood before him, asking for orders. “I’ve got nothing on the table,” Theren lied. Vikar’s last fleet engagement had seen the elder man nearly killed – by no fault of his own – at the hands of the Yevethans.

Vikar fixed him with that slow, unyielding gaze of his on his protégé. “I know you found him.”

“And how do you know that?” Theren asked sardonically.

“Because we’re both still alive to have this conversation. I know that you found him, and I know that you’re executing your plan.”

Theren sighed. “You outrank me by how many rungs? Why are you asking me about this?”

“We both know Command won’t let me back in the field. It’s not standard practice for the ECFO,” Vikar said. The situation was quite reversed from the predicament the two had found themselves in two weeks before, with the Admiral asking something of the Commodore. “Theren. You owe me this much.”

Theren looked out the window of the Bastion office. The perpetual dull gray haze in which the world was held framed a scene of urban prosperity. Men and women, people of great importance and small, who had relocated to form a microcosmic version of Coruscant, a bustling metropolis around the headquarters of the Bastion Conclave. His government. His people. “Of course I owe you this much. That’s not why I don’t want you to do it.”

Vikar’s eyes softened. “You can’t be responsible for everyone and everything, Theren.”

Theren cast a sharp glance at Vikar. He wouldn’t be responsible for his mentor’s death.

But then, what had Ciscero said? Stop reasoning like a rebel.

“The Yevethans almost killed me. Not you.”

Theren finally nodded. “All right.”



The Socratic Irony,
Varonat System

She was a good ship.

Life as a man on the ground may have agreed with Vikar, but it was good to return to space. The thrum of the Socratic Irony beneath him, the bustle of her able crew, fell into rhythm with his heartbeat like an extension of him. They came out of hyperspace a good distance from their target.

He clasped his hands behind his back, smiling slightly. The closer of the two inhabited worlds of the Varonat system was Varonat Prime -- the largest moon of Varonat -- and one covered with a variety of industrial and military bases. “Move us forward,” he ordered.

OOC Manifest:

2 Reign-Class Star Destroyers
4 Imperial-Class Star Destroyers
4 Strike-Class Cruisers
2 Lancer-Class Frigates
1 Corellian Gunship

100 TIE Defenders
10 Skipray Blastboats

Varonat

The Ison corridor was deep within Sovereignty Territory, and were well defended. These worlds were among other things an important military construction center as well as one of the final lines of defense before Bakura. As such Varonat, the capital of the Ison Province was fairly heavily defended. Commanding the defense of Varonat was Commodore X'el Turn. At the moment he was onboard his flagship Legacy. The Home One-class Mon Calamari was usually the flagship of President Griff and as such was staffed with the best of the Sovereignty soldiers, the Praetorian Guard.

"Commodore! We have numerous reversions 13 vessels gunships size or better. IFF transponders register them as Imperial Vessels."

That last bit of information was sort of useless. Who else would be showing up at Varonat with 13 Capital vessels. Farfalen had been making a bit of trouble in this area but the reports out of Bakura said that they were being mauled by the Home Fleet. In seconds he was issuing orders, just like in one of the hundreds of drills he'd participated in during his career as a naval officer in the Outer-Rim Sovereignty, except this wasn't a drill.

"Shields Up! Launch Fighters! Load and prep all weapons. This is not a drill! Let's move people!"

"Sir should we order the fleet to deploy?" The Captain of the Legacy Miranda Hitle stood behind him. She was the veteran of many engagements and he was going to have to rely on her experience if he were to be successful in this engagement.

"Would you Miranda?"

"No sir! Our primary objectives are to defend the planet and the shipyards. The troops on the moon will hold out."

"Exactly my thoughts. What's the status on the Ion Cannons?”

“Ready to teach these @#%$ I mean Imps a lesson.”

Turn smiled at his Captain’s profanity.

“No Miranda. You were right the first time.”

Hitle nodded and saluted.

“Aye Commodore!”

Turn settled back into his command chair.

“Let’s kick some ass.”

OOC:
1 Home One-class Cruiser(Flag)
3 Mon Calamari MC90a Star Cruiser
4 Victory mk I Star Destroyers
4 Nebulon - B frigates
6 Silencer-Class Cruiser
4 Penetrator-class Assault Cruiser

220 TIE Defenders
16 Skipray Blastboats

Varonat Prime Defences:1 Ion Cannon 1 Gencore II(Active)
Varonat Defences:1 Ion Cannon 1 Gencore II(Active)

The Socratic Irony,
Near Varonat Prime

“The enemy fleet doesn’t seem to be deploying against us, sir,” one of the ship’s aides informed him. Classic tactics; make them come to you. Vikar had to commend the enemy commander for at least making some sort of effort to implement an adequate tactical defence strategy. “Varonat Prime’s ion cannon and shield have been activated.”

Vikar paused thoughtfully. “How far are we from the range of that ion cannon?” He asked. The same aide quoted a rather small distance; they were closing quickly. The aged admiral nodded. “Begin to bring the fleet to a stop, then. Bring us to bear just outside of that range. Deploy all fighters and initiate jamming of all long-range communications.”

“Yes, sir.”

Aides and officers bustled about on the Socratic Irony’s bridge, somewhat miffed by the bizarre order. Traditional wisdom regarding planetary assault dictated that it was necessary to charge at the well-defended planet, hoping to bring down the shield with a rapid bombardment. Vikar had something else in mind entirely – that much was clear. And soon enough, the fleet had been brought to a halt, just outside the planetary ion cannon’s range.

Very calmly, he continued, “Order all TIE Defenders and Skiprays to load concussion missiles. The Gunship, as well.”

SS Legacy-Varonat Orbit

"Sir, enemy ships have stopped and taken up position outside of the planetary Ion Cannon Range."

"Just like Dantooine."

X'el turned to look at his Captain in curiosity.

"Pardon me Captain?"

"At Dantooine the Imperial Forces didn't move into range of our forces. They just sent their fighters around back. There were no Sovereignty fighters to harrass them so the Sovereignty forces were pinned in from both sides."

"But we have fighters..."

"So they can't encircle us."

"And we have an outer layer of defenses..."

"So they can't try to flank us without casualties."

"Meaning..."

"That they're trying to draw us out. They'll send in either a diversionary attack of quick ships letting their heavies come in and pound the yards or they'll send in their heavies, hope we meet them halfway there and send in their quick ships behind us."

"And we counter that how?"

"Don't leave Varonat. Stay here."

"So basically nothing."

"Aye Commodore."

"Sounds good. Order all ships to hold position."

The Socratic Irony,
Near Varonat Prime

“Fire missiles at the planet,” Vikar ordered, watching as the ion-trailed, durasteel hornets streaked off, two from each fighter, one from each Skipray and eight from the Corellian Corvette, towards the planet. The ion cannon on the planet fired an semi-cohesive bolt of ion energy, nearly unaffected part by gravity, that would lose almost all of its potency and most of its accuracy over long distances; hence one’s ability to sit safely outside the range of it.

But missiles were concrete, constructions of durasteel and baradium for the most part; their propulsion systems carried them as far as need be, and even if they ran out, in this case, the gravity of their target would complete the job. They lost none of their effectiveness, and after a few moments, this was displayed clearly; a huge flash of fire and shrapnel erupted against the planetary shield, straining that sector. It held.

This was not a surprise. “Load them again,” Vikar ordered. Vaguely, he wondered how many volleys it would take for the enemy commander to attack them.

"Sir they're bombarding the planetary shield."

"What's it's status?"

"Minor damage. They can hold out for a long time."

"Order the forces on Varonat Prime to hold tight. In the meantime we are to hold position."

"Aye Commodore!"

The Socratic Irony,
Near Varonat Prime

Admiral Vikar stood, smiling contentedly as the first of the missiles struck home, straining the shield. He was prepared to do this for a very long time if need be, but doing the damage required probably wouldn’t take that long. “Fire again, he ordered.”

Once again, the planetary shield flashed a deep blue against the bleak globe of Varonat Prime as a horde of missiles rained home.

"Order Task Group Alpha to jump to co-ordinates 3-2."

"Aye."

"Let's see how they deal with two groups of enemies."

OOC:

Task Group Alpha
6 Silencer-Class Cruiser
4 Victory mk I Star Destroyers
220 TIE Defenders

Out of range and behind imperial forces.

The Socratic Irony,
Near Varonat Prime

But of course, for a variety of reasons, the vessels could not jump. In addition to not having properly prepared their hyperdrives, and attempting to jump within the gravity well of a planet, they had attempted to improperly micro-jump without the proper equipment or preparation.

For all of these reasons, the vessels tore themselves apart; some wrended their own durasteel hulls because of the improper use of hyperspace jumps, some were torn apart by exploding hyperdrives which combusted under the pressure of inadequate preparation and the stress of a gravity well, and some may have even simply flown off into the far reaches of space, passing through a star or other interstellar phenomenon as a result of having so foolishly attempted to microjump.

All, however, were destroyed. This much was certain, and upon seeing so, Admiral Vikar was puzzled. "But why," he asked. "Why so senselessly waste life?"

"Remember Admiral Snowkan?" One of his aides reminded.

"Ah. Load missiles again, prepare to fire."

OOC:

ORS casualties:

6 Silencer-Class Cruisers
4 Victory-Class Star Destroyers
220 TIE Defenders

OOC: Sorry, guys, I understand that two of you are away, but this is fairly ridiculous. For a group with enough members for a merge you seem to have dropped off the face of the earth.

The Socratic Irony,
Near Varonat Prime

“Missiles away, sir.”

Once again, the shield of Varonat Prime lit up in the distance, shining a brilliant blue as its generators strained under the increasing pressure. This time, a small crack – an electrical fissure, one might say – appeared in the midst of that blue field, suggesting a decreasing fidelity.

“Load them again,” Vikar said evenly.