Lieutenant Rush Anarth sat in weightlessness of a zero-G environment, with only the safety straps of his Hunter holding him down. Through the tinted ceraglass of his fighter’s canopy, the freedom fighter stared at the expanse of space around him. Crimson-coloured Hunters hung suspended among star-studded space, silently awaiting their prey. Sprinkled among the sea of the superiority fighters, similarly marked Kalrechi assault fighters kept their own, cautious watch. All prepared to spring into action. All maintaining the same formation they did nearly an hour ago. He snorted, drawing in a deep breath of stale, heavily recycled air in the process. Rush’s supposed entertainment for the waiting, the latest music from his homeworld of Corellia, was on its sixth repetition through the fighter’s internal speakers. He sighed, idly tapping his dashboard.

“F*** you man,” stated the man exasperatedly, “get here already so I can kill you and be done with it. Or you can me. Either really works. But not this; not this.”

As if to answer his tirade, a series of ships emerged from hyperspace: an assortment of freighters guarded by several members of the famous Corellian Corvettes. In the middle of the potpourri of ships cruised a sole KDY escort carrier and an onerous Super Transport Mark VI, an ancient container ship seldom saw save but on the fringes of civilization. All of them bore the colours of Trax Sector’s local Imperial Warlord, Supreme General Fossk. Inferno Fleet’s starfighters spurred to life, immediately surging towards the enemy formation with an untold zeal. Anarth’s comlink buzzed to life with a cacophony of voices issuing and acknowledging orders. He tapped a switch, setting his comlink to the tactical channel shared by the rest of his squadmates.

“This is Mako Nine, everyone is cleared to engage individual targets with their flight pairs.”

The warning light on his console blinked haphazardly. Rush cursed, immediately switching his sensors to focus on his aggressor: one of the many Tie Interceptors launched from the holds of the carrier Bloodletter. He lined up his sights for a head-to-head run on the fighter, which immediately began to jink in and out of his crosshairs. Cursing, the Corellian vainly tapped his second trigger, sending out a sputter of ion bolts from his Hunter/I’s dual ion cannons. At this range, the bolts would lose coherency and be all but ineffective against the starfighter, but it did serve as a colorful distraction for a more truly damaging weapon. Using his ion cannon bolts to corral the Interceptor into a box, he tapped another firing stud on his control stick without hesitation. A single concussion missile leapt out of its MG-7 launcher. Having not taken the time to acquire a missile lock on the interceptor, it was an unguided attack which used the CM-5s proximity sensor to detonate. In the midst of its attempts at dodging, the Seinar fighter noticed the inbound missile and attempted to stray out of its way, being only half-successful in the process. The warhead exploded into a conflagration of fiery gases, burning off half of the Interceptor’s solar panel in a brilliant shower of sparks. Rolling uncontrollably, the Interceptor spiraled away from the battlefield, and right into a burst of explosive-tipped slugs from Mako Nine’s sole slugthrower. Tiny flares of light erupted on the surface and innards of the tiny ball before initiating a chain reaction which ultimately demolished the craft. Across the battlefield, the swarm of Hunter squadrons routed the numerically inferior starfighters of Fossk. Kalrechis engaged in strafing runs on the freighters and shuttles of the convoy, disabling their engines when possible or indiscriminatingly ripping them part when the former was too dangerous. Mako Nine and Ten banked back towards the battlefield and the retreating ships of the convoy. Anarth smiled.

“Like cattle to the slaughter.”



Bothan Assault Cruiser Armageddon’s Hammer

Inferno Fleet emerged from hyperspace in front of the convoy in a classic hammer-and-anvil maneuver. Torch-class gunships, the Armageddon’s Hammer, and the sole Firebolt-class Assault Frigate of the fleet opened fire, unleashing a single, devastating salvo against the convoy’s defenders. The point Corellian Corvette took the brunt of the assault, its shields flaring a bright white before dissipating into nothingness. Flames erupted from the bow of the ship, and escape pods haphazardly launch to jet off towards other members of the convoy’s fleet. Bandor, in the guise of Commodore Kolir Dha’tey, watched the battle unfold.

“Hold our position,” demanded Kolir, “the convoy can’t jump through a nav point directly behind us.”

“Sir, the escape pods?”

“Ignore them for now. And absolutely no firing on them,” ordered Dha’tey, “we need witnesses and prisoners.”

“Yes sir.”

“And make sure the Bloodletter and the Super Transport Death’s Jaws are relatively undamaged. I want both of them captured if at all possible.”

“And the corvettes?”

“If possible yes. Likely? No. Efforts on the freighters and the tertiary targets for now. We already have corvettes…”

Kolir’s hazel eyes immediately picked out several of the Torch Gunships advancing on the overwhelmed members of the convoy. A single Corellian Corvette outgunned one of the tubby Inferno Fleet gunships, but with the Torch’s working in pairs, the CR-90’s energy was matched with that of the gunship. But instead of attacking the convoy’s embattled corvettes, the Torch gunships ignored them, engaging and capturing bulk freighters of Fossk’s fleet. The continued bombardment from the gunship’s dual turbolaser cannons forcibly vanquished the shielding of the cargo ships; most of which immediately surrendered their craft. One attempted to flee, earning the ire of gunship Reprisal’s captain, who promptly launched a salvo of concussion missiles into the freighter’s ion drives. The blue flame of the sublight drive was washed over by an orange fireball, which faded in turn to reveal the charred husk of the freighter’s stern. Dha’tey glanced at his chrono and frowned.

“We have ten minutes until we can expect reinforcements from Fossk’s fleet to arrive,” announced Dha’tey, “we’ve got to move faster.”

“But how sir?” questioned Sei’lar, “the marines are encountering more resistance than expected. We don’t have enough marines and ships to do this that quickly now.”

Kolir sighed. “All right, helm, take us to engage the Bloodletter and Death’s Jaw.”

Sei’lar frowned. “But won’t that move us away from the nav point?”

“And allow some of Fossk’s ship’s to escape? Yes,” acknowledged the Admiral, “but we have our fill of freighters, and all that we really need is the Death’s Jaw, and if possible, the Bloodletter. Lock tractor beam projectors on our tertiary targets.”

“Yes sir.”



Firebolt-class Assault Frigate Flamewind

“Cease firing!” bellowed Captain Agder, “make the second corvette our primary target.”

The Flamewind hovered in front of the nav point, accompanied by a pair of guardian Torch-class gunships. Blue orbs sprang out from the converted freighter to smash into distant targets. With the Armageddon’s Hammer preoccupied with capturing Death’s Jaws and the escort carrier and the Torch Gunships capturing the lightly crewed freighter, the only targets left were the various Corellian corvettes. As Agder was quickly finding, it was proving to hardly be a challenge. Flamewind’s Chain Ion Cannon batteries had nearly infinite range, allowing the assault frigate to strike at most targets with impunity. And with each bolt that hit dealing the same amount of damage as a turbolaser against an unshielded hull, the thinly armored Blockade Runners had little to no chances of escaping unscathed.

“Captain, the Hammer has signaled that it has taken the Death’s Jaws,” reported an Inferno crewman.

“Odd name for a cargo ship,” muttered Lieutenant Aust, Agder’s executive officer.

Agder shook his head. “The Death’s Jaw isn’t a cargo ship. It’s a prisoner ship; carrying political dissidents to his rule. The Bothan Spy Network estimated that is has something around ten thousand of men, women, and children onboard. All being sent to their death or to a labor camp.”

“Sir, Bloodletter’s been taken by shuttles off of the Hammer and by the gunships Reprisal, and Fireblade.”

Agder glanced at his chrono. “Two minutes until Fossk’s reinforcements will start showing up.”

“Captain, enemy ships reverting hyperspace!”

Agder frowned. “What do you have?”

“I count four Strike Cruisers, all of them fitted out with a fighter hangar module, and smattering of other craft, like Carracks and Adzs.”

“Frak,” stated Aust, “Too quickly and too many of them.”

Agder nodded, “Dha’tey is going to order a retreat, and we’ll out with what we have. It’s still a profitable raid; for now.”

“Captain Agder,” stated a voice over the comm., “This is Commodore Dha’tey. We are instituting a fighting withdrawal. Your ship and the Hammer will cover our escape. I would prefer that the Flamewind target the leading Carrack or Strike Cruiser at all times. They are the most dangerous of our foes.”

“Yes sir.”

“You heard the Commodore,” ordered Agder, “Take those Carracks and Strikes down.”

The assault frigate stopped firing briefly as its guns set their sights on the distant specks of gray that were Fossk’s quick response squadron. Blue orbs streaked through the battlefield to crash into the Imperial-style cruisers; releasing a deadly mix of magnetic and kinetic energy in the process. Fossk’s new force hesitated under the long range barrage as Inferno Fleet and its prizes withdrew under the cover of the withering fire. Three minutes later, the last of Inferno Fleet withdrew into the safety of hyperspace, leaving Fossk’s forces in control of the battlefield to aid the convoy’s survivors and tend the debris.

6 months later (Takes place after Flames of Revolution and Bed of Coals)

Carrack-class Cruiser Valiant, deep space, Trax Sector

Captain Tolique of Supreme General Fossk’s navy stared out into space. It looked the very same for each of the six times he had been at the remote rendezvous point. Each time, he would escort a several container freighters to jettison their cargo at a specific nav point, and a crimson-coloured Torch-class gunship would arrive with several Heavy Lifters to pick up the recently discarded containers of credits and valuables. Tribute from the warlord to Inferno Fleet to prevent further insurrections on his planets or raids on his property. Tribute to ensure that his family would be safe. But finally, at the behest of Admiral Jan Harssk, Fossk had decided to stop paying tribute. Today, the members of Inferno Fleet would be receiving something different. On schedule, a half-dozen heavy lifters and a single crimson warship dropped into realspace. The Captain tapped a few buttons and magnified the image of the approaching ships.

Tolique’s craggy face avalanched into a frown. “That’s not their normal ship…doesn’t look like one of their freighter-warship hackjobs…”

“It’s identifying itself as the Crescent Flame, with an Inferno Fleet transponder,” piped in a junior officer.

“What do we have on that ship?”

“There’s no record of any ship of its type in our registry, sir…”

“Sensors say its about the size of a strike cruiser; probably has similar capabilities. We can spot some kind of gun turrets on the ship’s side…”

Tolique set his jaw. “We have our orders. Communications, tell the Chains of Justice to power up her gravity wells, and I want Protector and the Saint to stick with us. We will do an alpha strike…”

“Ah…Crescent Flame is demanding to know about what’s causing the holdup…”

“Their weapons are powering up…”

A voice at his side swore. “They’re figuring it out…”

“Attack now!” demanded Tolique, rising from his seat.

The aging Carrack cruiser sped towards the Crescent and let out a flurry of emerald bolts when it entered its heavy turbolaser’s maximum firing range. In response, the Flame let out a quartet of aquamarine bolts towards the light cruiser, and sped forward. More sets of emerald bolts surged at the Flame as Fossk’s two Assassin-class Corvettes entered firing range. Tolique eyed the approaching warship closer, noting several dozen specks of crimson surging along with the cruiser. Snubfighters. Those weren’t out before. It must have some kind of fighter carrying capacity…but why hasn’t it opened fire yet with its main guns? Malfunction? Or perhaps they think that our warships are carrying the tribute this time, and they want it intact…no, I bet they’d rather have our warships rather than the tribute. Of course… The two lines of ships neared it each other, the Flame erupted into a flurry of activity. Wide, fiery-orange bolts burst out from the ship’s main batteries. Glowing red orbs poured of out the Flame’s flank in a pyrotechnic shower. The Imperially trained captain found himself shielding his eyes from the Flame’s intense light. And as quickly as the weapons fire had come, it faded. Tolique’s hands dropped to his side, and he stared out of the viewport. It was empty. He frowned.

“Damage report?” stuttered the man.

“We’re not badly damaged,” reported a bridge officer, “everything is nearly…a hundred percent. None of the Flame’s attacks seem to have hit us…”

“The Saint is gone,” stammered another quietly.

“What do you mean gone?” demanded Tolique, swiveling in his command chair.

“The Flame focused its attack completely on the corvette. There’s nothing left…it’s been complete disintegrated…no survivors…nothing.”

Growling, Tolique rapidly tapped a bunch of buttons on his command chair. Seconds later, a visage of the Crescent Flame appeared. The Inferno cruiser was speeding off towards Fossk’s interdictor cruiser. A chord of explosions rippled between the two ships; Tolique magnified the image, noting the clash of Ties and Hunters in the contested space. Chains of Justice began to spin on its z-axis, deftly turning to escape the Flame’s pursuit. Before it could complete the maneuver, a volley of plas-blast missiles surged from the Crescent Flame to smash into the interdictor’s shields. The volatile plasma rolled up onto the Chain’s shields and battered them down with a combined assault of ionic radiation and sheer explosive power. Two seconds later, the disruptors opened fire, shredding through the ship’s thin, unshielded portside and into the heart of the ship itself. Gouts of flame sporadically flared across the ship, leaving charred plates, machinery, and men in its wake. Still, green laser fire flared from the starboard bow; the Chains of Justice may have been severely gored, but it was not dead; yet. Tolique turned about to face his XO.

“Signal the Protector to retreat, and plot us a course out of here. This isn’t quite what was planned.”

“Ah, sir, we have a problem,” called out an officer.

“Another one?!” exclaimed the captain, “now what?”

“Our computers linked to the engines seem to be going haywire…it’s as if they are revolting. All of the engines are powering down…”

“Sir, engine computers seem to be in contact with the Crescent Flame…” reported another officer.

“We’ve been hacked,” muttered his XO.

“Shut down all communications,” demanded Tolique, “No more communication for them, no more hacking.”

“No more communications with us either,” commented the XO, “I bet the Protector and Chains are wondering what the hell we’re thinking…”

“Ah, sir, the Flame is coming about towards us. They’ll be on top of us within two minutes.”

“Chances of escape?” asked the XO.

“Small,” reported the another bridge officer, “we’ve just regained control of the engine room’s computers, but there seems to be software that has been deleted, settings that have been changed…”

“Engines are already cold too; it’ll take a bit to get them to full speed,” added another officer.

Tolique shook his head. “Reactivate communications, and send a signal to the Flame: we surrender.”

“What?” said the XO.

“Do you want to end up like Chains? Exploded and vented into outer space? Besides, the Protector has escaped. Fossk will hear of this, and he’ll rescue us? Right?”


Cerberus-class Attack Cruiser Crescent Flame, deep space

“And so they’re dead in space,” reported Lieutenant Lambers, “they’re awaiting to be boarded…”

“Nawh,” replied Syfonne, “they’ve already tried to pull a big trick on us once a day…we’re not going to get ambushed twice. Dha’tey won’t be happy; he’ll be killer if we fall for this…”

“He’ll be, as you say killer, simply because we didn’t get a tribute from Fossk…” commented his XO, “but what are you going to do? Blow up a surrendered ship? I mean, they’ve powered down everything except for life support and short range communications, just as we’ve ordered them…”

“Yeah, and if we board them, and it goes to close-quarter combat, we’re frakked. We don’t have enough troops to fight a thousand crewmen plus the couple hundred marines stashed somewhere in those bulkheads. At Lance Security Limited, the higher-ups would personally supervise this even if they had enough men. We don’t have the men or the experience to properly set this up…”

“Well, that really helps,” remarked Lambers, “you’re smart enough to send the Heavy Lifters to scavenge the Chains of Justice, but not enough to secure a surrendered enemy.”

“CURSE, of course,” mused Syfonne, “set up CURSE and have it take over all of the Carrack’s systems. We’ll control the cruiser then by remote and drag it off to somewhere safer to actually take over the ship…”

Lambers frowned. “If CURSE tries to do that all at once, wouldn’t it be just like a normal combat situation? I don’t think the Valiant’s computers are going to be able to process all of that information; their will be some lagging and possible system malfunctions…”

“On their part,” rebutted Syfonne, “and as far as I’m concerned, that’s fine by me. It’ll take us some minutes of course. But it would to do a boarding operation anyways…”

Bothan Assault Cruiser Armageddon’s Hammer, deep space

“Strommen has reported to me that DMC is moving an unusual shipment through Dresscol III in two days. We don’t know what it is, and it’s not from anywhere in the Dresscol system or likely the Trax Sector. I think it represents our best chance to immediately retaliate against Fossk…”

Dha’tey paused and looked over his people, all crammed into tiny, durasteel benches mounted into the mediation chamber. Two weeks had passed since the failed ambush of the Crescent Flame, and he could tell that they had been waiting for this since the incident had happened. Since Fossk has stopped tribute, the combat personnel had been relentlessly trained in their respective disciplines. Intelligence and analytical personnel were scrambling to gather and process information on the warlord. Logistics had its ships running all over the galaxy, scourging up supplies and battering with less-reputable traders to buy often illegal weaponry and stores of blaster gas for the anticipated battles. He picked out Sei’lar in the crowd, who in turn rippled the fur on his cheeks; a semi-subtle cue from Bothans to continue. Kolir barred his teeth in an embarrassed smile.

“Where was I? Right…the convoy…it’s not the typical drone barges DMC normally uses. It’s a collection of light freighters and a pair of bulk freighters escorted by four hyperspace capable system walkers…errr….Systems Patrol Craft. From what we’ve been able to glean from hacking into DMC’s computers via our Dresscol III location, the convoy has to make a stop at an asteroid belt three jumps away from Dresscol. We’ll ambush it there, since the asteroids will make effective and impromptu mass blocks to prevent them from immediately escaping into hyperspace. It is my hope that we will capture all of the ships, but especially the system walkers because of Project Iotra. They in fact will take precedence over the cargo ships. I’ve already sent additional briefings to your computer stations with additional information. We haven’t much time to prepare, so…”

Two days later…

Hunter/i-class Starfighter Mako 9, Questra Asteroid Belt

Twelve crimson starfighters drifted towards the core of the asteroid belt, occasionally engaging their maneuvering jets to vector away from one the gigantic rocks which tumbled about aimlessly in space. Anarth saw one of the rocks slowly fall towards him; the Corellian sighed, and lightly tapped a button his control panel. His right engine pod briefly ignited, pushing his Hunter away from the asteroid’s current course. I mean, come on. Isn’t there something more exciting to do than this? Something requiring more skill and talent, and bravery? I mean, why not have a green squadron do this? It isn’t that hard…just make sure you don’t get hit by an asteroid and use your engines as little as possible…isn’t that a simple Academy lesson? A snap-click reverberated through his comlink, signaling that a member of Mako squadron had spotted the convoy. Rush swiveled his head around, trying to spot the enemy vessels. And finally, he saw it; almost exactly as the briefing had described it. But there was a slight difference; a squadron of Tie Interceptors buzzed around the freighters. Rush licked his chops. More kills for me…but what is a squadron doing out here? Ties aren’t hyperspace capable, and I don’t think any of the convoy ships has room to carry them with their cargo…unless it’s a trap...

“Listen up squad,” ordered Mako One, “Command believes they’re deep enough in the belt to ambush. So lets get at it, but, but the Commodore wants those Ties disabled…”

Rush inwardly groaned. How am I suppose to get kills like that? I’ll walk into the base bar, and say “yeah, I disabled a three Ties today”…that’ll sound good…crazy Commodore….

“…and remember, capture, not kill. Ok, let’s do it.”

Before the captain finished his last sentence, Rush had already jammed his throttle forward, taking his fighter from zero to a hundred and twenty MGLTs in less than ten seconds. The Corellian grinned, watching the other Hunters scramble to catch up with him, and a pair of nearby Tie Interceptors which had just spotted their oncoming foes. Rush tapped a key, selecting the nearest Interceptor, Alpha Seven, as his target. Mako Nine deftly maneuvered his craft to set up a head-to-head run with his opponent. He lined up his firing brackets on the Tie, which almost immediately side-slipped out of the way. His HUD lit up, and milliseconds later, green bolts splashed up onto his shields. Frak you Alpha Eight. Let me deal with your friend first; then I’ll get to you…Anarth jarred his control yoke to the right; his Hunter barrel-rolled in the same direction, out of Fossk’s fighter’s firing. He snapped the yoke back, and his craft rolled upwards in an Immelman loop to pursue Alpha Seven. The Tie Interceptor was already jinking and juking, not from Anarth’s fire, but from Mako Ten. Rush grumbled to himself. That one is mine. He pulled the trigger, sending dual streams of ion bolts at Alpha Eight. The agile Tie manically danced around the four streams of blue bolts, rolling and weaving sporadically. A trio of Rush’s ion bolts clipped the Imperial craft’s solar panels, and the Tie uncontrollably spun about in a circle. All four streams of ion bolts chewed into the starfighter, and within seconds, it was disabled.

Cerberus-class Attack Cruiser Crescent Flame, Questra Asteroid Belt

The crimson hull of the Crescent plunged forward into the asteroid belt, its disruptors and missiles blasting away in swaths of fiery orange. But rather than lashing out at the fleeing cargo ships and their escorts, the weapons fire smashed into the asteroids; breaking them apart into smaller bits to clear a path for the larger ships of Inferno Fleet. Ahead of the attack cruiser, a handful of Torch gunships accompanied Kalrechis and Hunters on their assault on the main convoy. Plumes of blue erupted from a squadron of Inferno starfighters and surged into a pair of light freighters; blue lightning criss-crossed across the hulls as the ion torpedoes sapped away the target’s electricity and fried circuits. A salvo of sapphire blue bolts from the approaching Crescent Flame finished off the job, permanently disabling the freighters. Commander Gamark Syfonne stood at the viewport, with his face almost pressed against the ceraglass, watching the attack.

“And sometimes the stars seem to bright…” crooned Commander Syfonne, “…when our ion cannons after you….”

“How did you become our fearless leader?” sighed Lambers, “clearly I do all the work anyways…”

Syfonne grinned. “Clearly, Dha’tey loves people that can sing beautifully. And that’s why he picked me.”

Lambers dolefully shook his head. “You both are crazy.”

“Which is why you work for us, right?”

His XO spared a glance at the lanky man, shook his head, and began to march over to observe another crew station. Gamark mimicked Lambers in a grotesque caricature, and strode over from the viewport to another console; this one manned by a female quarren. Squatting down behind her chair, Gamark stared over her shoulder, watching the diagnostics. Donren Tilan turned her squid-like head and gazed at the human. Several of her tentacles curled up. Syfonne gave an exaggerated shrug.

“I just wanted to see if the new module was working…sort of..well…right. You know Tilan dear…sweetheart.”

The quarren clicked her beak-like mouth. “You’re breathing down my back, sir.”

“Ah right,” smiled Gamark, standing up, “I’ll go harass someone else.”

But he didn’t. Instead, the brown-haired man casually strolled over to his command chair. After jumping into it, Syfonne browsed through several screens on his own console, finally settling on a monitor which showed Tilan’s screen. For this mission, the Crescent Flame was testing a new module: the ECM Burst module. The man intently watched as screen reported the module’s series of disruptive electromagnetic bursts. Thus far, the device had been stable; and that was a good thing. And it appeared to be working too. The ship’s computer had noted a fifteen percent decrease in enemy and allied hits since they had activated the device. Not that that meant much for this combat performance; the opposing IR-3Fs and IPV 1s weren’t too well-armed or dangerous to a ship the Crescent’s size; especially considered that the patrol ships were outnumbered by even larger warships, which unlike the system patrol craft, were manned by competent soldiers instead of customs officials. He glanced out of his forward viewports, watching as the patrol ships ineffectually fired away with their pop-guns, and as Inferno Fleet leisurely subdued their enemies with their ion cannons and ion torpedoes. A voice sounded through the bridge.

“IR-3F Katarn One has been disabled…Armageddon’s Hammer is launching border shuttles.”

“You think the ECM burst will disrupt the boarding operations?” ventured Gamark.

Lambers stared at the man. “No. Is there a reason they would? It doesn’t exactly affect anything besides sensors and targeting computers…”

“It could affect the hull cutters. You know, they might try to cut into a power generator instead of an airway-”

“No,” interrupted Lambers irately, “it affects ranged weapons you dolt.”

“That’s no dolt sir,” corrected Gamark.

“Yes dolt sir.”

Bothan Assault Cruiser Armageddon’s Hammer, Questra Asteroid Belt

In fifteen minutes, Inferno Fleet had managed to capture most of the DMC convoy, with the exception of a single light freighter, which had managed to escape by flying deeper into the asteroid belt. Inferno Marines had been dispatched to the freighters and patrol craft and secured them with almost no incidents of resistance. In the meantime, the Hammer tractored in the disabled Tie Interceptors and captured their pilots. But none of this bothered Dha’tey. He found himself at the Hammer’s bridge viewport, idly watching the last boarding shuttle move in to secure Katarn One. As Kolir quietly stroked his chin beard, he felt a slight ripple of air against his fur.

“There is something strange going on here, Sei’lar,” muttered the Bothan, “it seems like we have won, but I feel like we’ve just bitten the bait.”

His fur rippling, the other Bothan frowned. “I assure you, the Bothan Spynet looked into every possibility that it could be a trap. But they didn’t find anything to suggest that it could…even among sources that aren’t connected directly with DMC…”

“Those Patrol Craft were crewed by regulars of Fossk’s navy,” announced Kolir, “not the employees of DMC…”

“That surprises you?” asked Sei’lar, “DMC is, for all practical concerns, Fossk’s company. If he’s going to try and move stuff around quietly, why not do it under the DMC name? It’d attract a whole lot less attention than ships of his regular navy; particularly if he’s worried about us…”

“Do you know what those ships are carrying?”

“What?”

Kolir grimaced. “Starship fuel; the kind used by Imperial warships.”

Sei’lar shrugged; Dha’tey rolled his eyes.

“Warships refuel only very rarely; some only need it every decade or so. With the amount of fuel we’ve captured, there is enough fuel to last three Imperial star destroyers ten years if they’re doing basic, in-system patrols…”

“Like Fossk’s destroyers are currently doing,” mused the Bothan spy, “but they haven’t placed any orders for fuel that we know of.”

Kolir nodded. “I know; I’ve browsed through some of the Bothan Spy Network reports that we have on the Hammer. They’ve only needed some minor parts. I thought fuel would show up rather easily…”

“It should have,” considered Sei’lar, “if they were doing it near an inhabited planet; usually local space traffic is informed so that zones can be cleared for the fueling. I mean, no-one wants to around it if there’s an accident. I think we’ve stumbled on Fossk’s fuel reserves, perhaps. Or Fossk is doing a mass refueling of his ships in some remote system…”

Kolir shrugged. “Perhaps. I’d like to have some of your people investigate the ship’s computers though; see if we can find anything else about the nature of this shipment.”

“We can do that…and on that note, the communication’s officer told me to tell you that Lambers is complaining about Syfonne again. Apparently, this time he’s serenading the entire bridge crew…”

Dha’tey’s furry face curled up into a toothy smile. “That’s one of the reason’s he’s their commander.”

Sei’lar frowned. “What?”

“It’s part of cultivating the image of Inferno Fleet; we have to have a few crazy commanders, otherwise things will start to look too disciplined and orderly to both our uninformed crew and to outsiders…”

(Takes place after Heaven's Light)...

Efreeti-class Battlecruiser Husdant, Tristar Nebula, Trax Sector

“Commodore’s on the deck!”

Dha’tey strode through the foyer onto the bridge of his new flagship, the Husdant. The ship itself had only been fully completed a mere week ago, which had led to most of his and crew’s time during the past two weeks working out the bugs and faulty equipment of the ship; despite it not even being fully completed at the time. They had found and corrected most of them, he thought. Yet he was still unsure about testing the ship in combat, yet necessity forced him. He couldn’t simply let nearly thirty thousand political prisoners be transported off their home world of Lexrol to strip mining labor camps. Doing so would not only weaken the resistance to Fossk’s rule and imprison many innocent people, but would also strengthen his military and wealth from the newly garnered materials. The Bothan glanced about the bridge of the Husdant, and was reassured by the sight of familiar faces; nearly the entire crew of the Hammer had been transported over to the Husdant, leaving the former flagship with only a skeleton crew under the command of Commander Amabo.

“About time you got here,” purred Sei’lar, striding up to him with an almost feral grin on his face.

Dha’tey’s fur rippled. “I was going over the information in the war room again. I think the Rage is going to be a worthy adversary. To think that Fossk assigned his best ship and captain to the convoy says something about its importance to him.”

Sei’lar grinned. “Apparently he too finds politics important to keeping his powers; rather perceptive of him for being a carreer officer.”

“Oh?”

“Well,” suggested the spy, “it just seems that most military officers just use plain old force from the military to stay in power. Fossk is doing that to be sure, but he’s using a lot of politics and what not too. I think it’s a sign of skill.”

“Or desperation,” replied Dha’tey, “I have not known any non-Bothan officers to enjoy political games…”

“The Hyperspace Signal Interceptor has discovered multiple contacts heading towards the target area,” reported an officer.

“Thank the maker for the Nebula,” muttered Dha’tey.

“They’ve reverted, really close,” reported the operator, “it looks like they coasted in hyperspace until the nebula forced them out-”

“CGT shows that we have twenty-one contacts, three of which are star destroyer sized.”

Dha’tey immediately frowned. That’s not the one ISD and three prison ships that Sei’lar said would be here. The hazelnut furred Bothan immediately turned to where Sei’lar was, but the spy was already with the CGT operator, staring at the screen. Dha’tey immediately paced over to him, noting that Sei’lar was profusely swearing.

“Either one of my people messed up,” explained the spy, “Or Fossk changed things at the last minute.”

“Set the CGT to reflect any long-range scans, now,” demanded Dha’tey, “hopefully the nebula’s dust and light can visually hide us while we figure what’s going on.”

“Dark Flame has intercepted and is tracking the convoy…The prison ships and the Rage are present, but there’s one extra Lictor Dungeon ship, two Victory Mk I star destroyers, and what appears to be elements of an Imperial pursuit and screening line…Carracks and DP20s.”

“We can’t beat them in an open battle,” sighed Sei’lar, “not with just the Husdant and three artillery frigates.”

“No,” replied Dha’tey, “but it doesn’t stop us from hi-jacking the prisoner ships…”

“You can’t seriously think of using the Husdant as a meatshield while that’s all taking place…”

“I am,” replied Dha’tey, “but don’t worry, we’re going to add a little twist to it…”

Ten minutes passed, with the Husdant and her consorts silently holding their ambush positions within the Nebula; with the Rage warily leading the Imperial ships through the nebula, leaving the two antiquated but powerful Victory star Destroyers to bring up the convoy’s rear. As the Rage passed the interception point, along with several gunships, the Inferno Fleet starships held their fire. The quartet of prison transports appeared at the point, and out of the blue swirling clouds came crimson fire.

“Main batteries, target the Rage’s stern, we don’t want her coming about to fight us,” ordered Dha’tey.

The PMD turrets swiveled about and fired. Plasma loaded and propelled shells surged through the nebula to crash into the Rage’s stern. The Imperator’s shields buckled under the sudden onslaught, with minute explosions peppering the backside of its command tower as the mostly plasma emptied shells detonated and drove themselves into the hull. The Firebolt frigates fired their own weapons as well, using the telemetry data from the Dark Flame. The ion-sheathed slugs marched out of the clouds in waves to assault the rearguard of the convoy. The Husdant corrected her own fire based on the Dark Flame's data, and the shells were soon piercing through the Rage’s armor and exploding closer to the star destroyer’s engines. Fuel lines were ruptured and enflamed, and the ISD merely floated along its original course by inertia, leaving the fight. The smaller carracks and gunships immediately had charged into the cloud to confront their ambushers; the Husdant laid down a withering fire from her main batteries; at that short range, most of the shells had not picked up much velocity, but still packed a fair amount of plasma; explosions rippled across the opposing picket line. Plas-blast missiles and more mundane warheads left the Husdant’s sides, driving off the picket screen in disarray. In the meantime, the Firebolts’ CURSE units had begun to infiltrate the Lictors’ computers. Having gained entry to the basic operating system, they began to meticulously rewrite the security software, as well as the rudimentary navigational data loaded within the ship.

“The Puissant and Courageous are heading right towards us, thank the maker they have such poor speed,” reported a sensor operator.

“How are the CURSE units ding?”

“They’ve taken over most of everything. Most of them are in the middle of wresting actual sublight engine controls from Fossk’s crews…”

The Star destroyers broke through the nebula’s cloud cover. Almost immediately, both sides broke into fantastic fire. Concussion missiles surged out of the star destroyers hulls in the dozen, while a cocktail of plas-blast missiles, proton torpedoes, and other common warheads flew out of the Husdant. Several streams of the warheads collided mid-flight, causing a wall of explosions to engender between the two enemies. And yet the warheads flew on: some of the Husdant’s laser cannons managed to pick off enemy warheads before contact. But most hit the RPAPS, causing a ripple of explosions around the ship’s hul which mostly managed to scorch the ship’s crimson armor. Some, however, managed to strike at the actual hull plating between the brief openings left by the RPAPS lowering its subsections as the Husdant fired its own weapons or as it recharged and rebooted from a previous strike. Only in one section did the warheads manage to get through the armor, right into a PMD’s magazines. The shells merely melted under the attack, releasing their inert gases to help suffocate the newly created fires from the concussion missiles. Repair droids, redundant systems, and containment field generators almost immediately kicked in, respectively repairing the system, keeping the damaged systems going, and keeping the damage from spreading.

“We’ve got the Lictors taken over,” reported an officer.

“Good, now get them over here,” demanded Dha’tey, “before the Imps regroup and kill us.”

But suffering from a chimera of damages from the Efreeti’s warheads, shells, and ion cannons, the Puissant and Courageous skirted away from the Efreeti and the rest of the Inferno vessels. As they did, the prisoner transport ships broke through the clouds to join the Inferno vessels. They had no sooner done so than the Inferno vessels withdrew deeper into the blue shades of the nebula to escape pursuit, and to their freedom.