Jan frowned as ships began to fire on him.

"All ships, follow us in. Fighters, fire on whoever is near us. Raise shields after the Defiance's have left-" Jan was cut short by static.

"Damn, they are jamming us."

The fleet raced towards the fleet in front of them at full speed. Jan had picked the fleet in front of them to attack, ebcause it forced the fleet ebhind them to have to catch up, and the fleet above them would have to continue to rotate.

"Sir, the Defiance Hover Units have left."

"Excellent. All of our shields should now be back at full."

1 Viscount Star Defender and an Imperial Star Destroyer attacked the Reign Star Destroyer. 2 groups of 1 Viscount Star Defender and 3 Victory Star Destroyers moved in on two of the Imperial Star Destroyers, while one Yunos and 3 Victory Star Destroyers moved in on another. 2 groups of an MC-90 and an ISD moved in on each of the SATAPs. 1 MC-90 and 2 ISDs moved in on each of the Victory Star Destroyers, helped by an Aegis Star Cruiser, and two groups of 3 Firewind Light Cruisers. 2 Corellian Gunships and a Firewind Light Cruiser attacked an enemy Corellian Gunship. 5 groups of 1 Corellian Gunship and 1 Marauder Corvette moved in on the otehr Corellian Gunships. 1 Assault Cruiser Moved in on each of the Lorell Gunships, each aided by either a Haven Light Cruiser or an MC-40. 15 Nebulon-B2 Frigates moved out on the Sith Battle Cruisers. They each had help by either a Defender Gunship or a Firewind Light Cruiser. The Interdictor Cruiser followed in the rear. The majority of the fighters attacked the enemy fighters ahead of them, but others kept close watch in case other enemy fighters became evident. The Shuttles and Defiance Hover Units flew around the enemy fleet. The Stealth Intruders were already past the enemy fleet, and were flying in fast on their objective.


OOC:
Damage:
Shields way down on all of the Corellian Anvil ships.

Shroud K19

"Tracking enemy shuttle launches, Colonel!" Ensign Gatterweld called out across the small, Guild-style bridge of the K-19.

"Size and type?" Enrique returned, looking from the battle outside (which his Shrouds had not yet joined in - but would soon) to his own sensor board.

"Unknown. Probably a Coalition design, from the looks of them." The officer replied. "Baring down on Corellia, looks like they're taking the long away around the fleet, too."

Somewhere within the mind of Colonel Enrique Janus, wheels were turning. They had their assignment, he knew, and it was an important one. But this could send a message to the Coalition that they needed to learn; the Empire was everywhere, and no Coalition soilder would ever set foot on an Imperial world.

THAT, he decided, was essential. To teach this overconfident commander that the land war could not begin until the naval war was ended. He was foolish to assume that the Empire would not notice, or would be to precoccupied, to deal with his ground troops.

Very foolish indeed.

"I want Captain Densel to take ten Shrouds and ambush their troop shuttles. Destroy them all. These Coalition Shitheads must learn that they do not toy with the Empire."

He smiled coldly.

"We will remain on target, if you please, Captain." He ordered. The remaining Shrouds carried the Sith Lords of the Naboo Sith Orders - agents of the Empire who had been assigned a very special duty indeed.





Captain Densel was a young man with black hair stretching almost to his waste. It was certainly not allowable under Imperial regulations, but his skill in command of his Shroud, K21, had earned him enough prestige to bypass that particular rule.

Now, he was serving under a Colonel who had been disgraced (or something) and put in command of the Shroud Division, a division that should have belonged to Densel. But the other man had seen Densel's skill, and now as he led half of the Shroud Division to ambush the ground forces of the Coalition, he smiled coldly.

To punish the idiots for being so foolhardy was a pleasurable task indeed.

"Captain!" One of his officers called out. "Enemy ships coming into range!"

Densel nodded. His ships were arranged into two neat lines, straight up and down (up and down, being relitive to the enemy), so that the Coalition forces would recieved the maximum output of their weapons.

"Right." He said determindly. "All Shrouds, open fire."

And the invisible warships of the Empire fired their first shots of the day, into the unsuspecting bows of forty-nine insignificant Defiance Class Hover Units, their commanders obviously to confident to even raise shields.

The loss of equipment and life for the Coalition in those few minutes would perhaps teach the Coalition not to cross the New Order.

If they were smart.

The Imperial Shroud-class starship, designated K-13, furtively prepared for its final push forward into the battle.

The tendrils of Xion's black cloak flowed like grasping tentacles around on the hot, oily air of the lower decks. He strode from end to end on a spotlit gangplank, overlooking a Dark Trooper assembly area but a few meters below. The sat, tightly packed like sardines in a can, thier head-mounted laser targeters shone forward, creating a red patchwork across the top of thier heads.

The feeling of oncoming destruction that eminated from his feet was almost sensually intoxicating, if dampened by the smell of chemicals and oil that raped his nostrils.

The fumes made him wince, and he cast his gaze upward, catching glimpses of yet more Dark Troopers being loaded into the upper hatches, ready for ejection if necessary.

Ahead lay the auxiliary bay doors, groaning against the vacuum of space, a common thing to be heard when in the thin bowels of a ship such as this. Before him, on the gangplank was his apprentice, Maxor, who was hunched over and tinkering with dozens assorted cylinders of different sizes.

He stared up and offered a simple nod.


They were ready.


"Then let us begin." He grinned wryly, firmly attaching his face-enveloping respirator to his features.

The Shroud Cruiser, given the name K15 by the Empire she served, pressed forward into the malestrom of fire that the Coalition fleet was throwing forth.

Her stealth gear was active, the small warship manouvering deftly past the enemy vessels that were totally unaware of her presence. Unaware, but not for long.

The Coalition fleet had launched a variety of ships earlier - troop transports, from the look of them - and a number of Shrouds had been detailed to eliminating them. Ton, waiting in what was serving as a troop bay on the Shroud, knew what was in store for those soldiers on the vessels.

Curiously, though, he fealt little sympathy for them. They had joined the Coalition willingly, and allowed themselves to be pulled into an attack on the Empire. It was not our of love for the New Order that Ton lacked sorrow for them, but out of cold logic.

The Empire, for all intents and purposes, was the legitimate government of this galaxy. Any who opposed them deserved what they got, really. And even if those soldiers died on their transports, their lives wasted by the foolish Coalition commander, it was no less than what they signed up to do.

"Agent Janus?" A voice crackled over the land line imbedded in the ship's side. Personal comlinks were still being affected by the jamming, line of site and landline being the only remaining source of communication.

It would be enough, the agent knew, for the upcoming mission.

"Yes?" He said, rising from the bench seat he had choosen and picking up the privacy handset on the unit. It was the Captain, reporting the imminent arrival of their target. "Thank you, Captain." Ton replied, hanging the reciever up once more.

Like the fools they were, the Coalition had not brought their shields back up after lowering them to launch their ground troops. Nor had they closed their hanger bay doors. A mistake that would cost them their ground forces, and their ships.

Ton smiled darkly as the Shroud passed through where the enemy shields should have been and into the empty landing bay. This is where their troop shuttles should have been, but they had all launched, headed to their deaths. As the invisible ship set down, and Ton's soldiers readied themselves for battles, a thought occured to the agent.

If there happened to be someone in the bay right now, what would they be seeing?


The bay was, of course, empty. The soldiers under Ton's command made sure of this before they regrouped and formed up around the agent, a typical guard formation. They may be able to take inordinant ammounts of damage, but he could not.

Each of the Dark Trooper Droid Suits was crewed by an elite Special Forces agent on loan from the Ubiqtorate. A suit had been offered for Ton's use, but he had declined, citing it as uneccessary.

He wished for a moment he had accepted, but the suits were bulky and required much skill to operate. He was much more comfortable with his blaster rifle in his hands and freedom of movement.

As comfortable as one could be going in combat, anyway.

"Right. We make for the auxilary bridge. Anyone we encounter is to be silenced immediatly."

He paused, looking back to where the Shroud was... or had been... it was impossible to tell whether the ship had taken off again or not.

Nonetheless, he offered a two-fingered salute in the general direction of where the bridge would have been, and said, "Move out."

<hr>

Imperial Dark Trooper Regiment "Renegade"

36 Dark Trooper Droid Suits (Phase III)
(Operated by Ubiqtorate SpecForce commandoes)

Shroud Cruiser K11.

Lupercus nodded to his apprentice, even in his trancelike state. The mind mesh was no longer taxing on the Siths mind, having already been executed a number of times by TNSO throughout its history. He spoke now as if slightly disembodied.

"Yess...

I am very proud of them."

Something fell off Lupercus' lap and was promptly swept up by a waiting Butterball. He fumbled with it momentarily, its massive hands struggling with such a small object. Once it was grasped, he placed the ion bomb back into Lupercus' lap.

"Do you know what keeps them alive my apprentice?"

Silus shook his head to indicate a negative.

"The Darkside. That is all. They need nothing more."

A narrow smile crept across Lupercus' face now, echoing a recollection of a sadistic pleasure.

"Then again, none of them are actually dead..."

His mind drifted back to Olenji. His rape of that planet had been his crowning acheivement, easily overtaking the sack of Gallinore. Over 3 billion Hapans had died that night. Over 1,000 others had joined him, becoming acolytes. They were the dregs of society, but to Lupercus, they were its greatest representation.

But of the 3 billion, no bodies had been found. DNA samples could have been found, had the Hapes government not cleansed the planet entirely upon its discovery.

But where, oh where, did those poor bodies go?

Lupercus only had to look around him to answer that.

In his mind, he could feel the Sith of TNSO stretching their minds out, making the Imperials fight with a ferocity that could only be bourne of the Darkside. But now they would have a much more proactive role in the defeat of these Rebels.

In the back of his mind, he felt Corellias planetary sheilds power up, the Gencores buzzing with a life bourne of safety. They were new sheilds, but they were more than up to the task.

Suddenly Lupercus smiled again, broader this time. He could feel the shroud rising, up and up into the bowels of the Yunos cruiser.

His trademark smirk cemented on his face, he spoke again.

"Did you know the Azguards moved heaven and earth to discover who i was when i destroyed their fleet at the Battle of Garos IV?"

It was an arrogent statement, but no less could be expected from the Hapan sith lord.

"Perhaps now its time for us to show them who we are?"

His mind pulsed as the crew of the shroud opened fire, decimating the waiting ranks of rubbery beings as they waited in the hangar bay. It was slaughter, and there is nothing the Hapan liked better.

Lupercus stood now, his eyes open and lightsabres in hand.

"Silus, let us play."

The boarding ramp dropped, and instantly the Cenobites lept out, only to find no enemies. A Pinhead roared in frustration causing an Angelique to shrink away in momentary fear. Of all the Cenobites, it was the Pinheads that were to be feared the most. It was they who Lupercus had made his Knights, his leaders of the pack. They too could make Cenobites, although at a much slower rate. Who knows, perhaps he could invent a new kind from the blood of Azguard bodies...

He hefted a large pack onto his back before walking out onto the craft. Already the Cenobites were diseminating amongst the ship, causing terror and sowing confusion wherever they went.

But for the pair of Sith? Well, they had another objective completely...

RSD Ravager, on the bridge.

Admiral Pitta Jr. watched with what could only be described by his bridge crew as rapt awe as the line of Rebel ships made their way towards him. Their lasers were streaking at their nearest targets, the fleet of Admiral Chandler, doing alot less than Chandler was doing to them. Above the eliptical the Imperial fleet worked to full efficiency, the sith mind meld working wonders for the crew. Despite the pain the enemy was receiving, their goal remained obvious as they formed up to charge the Imperial lines.

Pitta actually watched and could see the moment when they 'charged' as it were, the GCs faster ships charging towards the solid wall of ships. As they stretched out he could see their targets as their attack vectors narrowed to a few choices.

Impossible...

It looked to the Admiral as if his adversary had simply matched up the numbers of each craft type and simply said 'charge!'. That thought brought a smile to Danettas face, although it disappeared as soon as it arrived. Smiling wasn't a part of the Navy Drill Regulation Standard Issue kit.

"Does anybody else see this?"

Most of the bridge murmoured their agreement. On the massive 3D holocom in the centre of the bridge, the crew saw the GC fleet stretched out, the Yunos and Viscounts at the back being hammered from above by Chandlers men, the picket ships charging headlong towards the Imperial battle line. Small dots indicated the torpedos as they were closing in. Chandler watched with glee as they streaked in, completely ignored. The Yunos cruiser had just taken an entire volley of the Imperial Fleet. Its primary shields were long gone.

He had no need to call the order to reload, the crew were well oiled enough to being doing it themselves. Meanwhile, he now watched as the line of full pelting frigates charged into his fleet. Unorder in the form of the trickle of differently paced ships clashed with the ordered battle and firelines of the Corellian Anvil. Fighters dodged between the poorly supported GC ships as they hit the wall front on.

Lupercus even saw a group of 5 assault frigates try to penetrate his skirmish screen. While the SBCs and fighters duked it out, the assault frigates, MC40s and Haven cruisers were annihilated as they attempted to push into the fleets reserve line. They faced the direct strength of the Empires ships of the line. Nothing could top that, especially the 10 ships that had tried to rush passed their station.

Why the hell would you do that?

The gunships themselves barely had to interject, firing only a few times before the enemy ships were destroyed. As they were, the ships moved back towards the planet slightly for ready response on anything moving into the planets orbit. The battleline turned its fire back on the assaulting frigates. Although evenly matched, the enemies frigates lacked its bigger ship support to have any punch. Drawn into the Imperial lines by a foolish charge, they were already reduced in sheilds by a substantial amount. For some reason, which Pitta knew, the Imperials were fighting like they had back in the day of Palpatine.

Something very wrong was going on in the universe.

(OOC: Don't exagerate. If i'm stripped hell down on sheilds, you are moreso. I've only got one direction to focus them, forwards. You meanwhile have to focus them in every direction. Don't ask me why, you should know why. If you haven't, consider your entire fleet destroyed.

What you have to react to because for some reason you can't read my posts:

GC fleet stretched out. You @#%$ up man, not me. Perhaps you should do more than simply number crunch in your posts?

Ships 500 or less engaged by picket line.

Ships 500-1000 close to direct engagement.

Ships 1000-2000 decent distance from direct engagement (coupla klics).

Ships 2000+ moving as slow as @#%$ waaaay towards the back.

Yunos crunched, entire volley of torps ignored. If it has backupshields, they are on. Otherwise shes down to hull.

Assault frigates and @#%$ you sent to attack Lorell Gunships destroyed (10 ships, 5 AFs others a mix of MC40s and Havens). You tried to run them through my entire freakin fleet to reach the gunships. Including my Destroyers. Very smart.

Imperial Skirmish Line: Engaged (shields at 55% all round and holding)
Imperial Battle Line: Supporting fire on skirmish line. (sheilds at 100% 95 forward 5 back)
Imperial Reserves Line: Sittin' there, scratchin' their anal holes (sheilds all round 100%)

Several Days Before

Ends and Means

“I really do remember when this used to be simple,” Theren said. His eyes flickered out the viewport of the Bastion tower, which overlooked the dark city below punctuated by a few bright lights.

“You’re sure it’ll work?”

“Of course I am. This is all history; just modified.”

“And it looks like…”

“Yeah.” Theren said. “Soon.”

Tornel looked at the transcript again. “We have an Executor on Haven, you know. He was watching the hyperspace transmission logs. They’re coming. Preparing, at least.”

“I know.”

“We don’t know where.”

“I know.”

Theren looked very seriously at his aide; a man who’d gone from his enemy, to his closest advisor, to his friend. “We’re going to kill a lot of people with this, Tornel. A lot of them.”

“And?”

“And I don’t want to drag you into anything.”

“An Imperial having flashes of conscience?”

Theren scoffed. “Not conscience. Consciousness. You have to take lives to win the good fight; you have to be ruthless, or it just doesn’t fucking work.”

Tornel was silent for a minute, contemplating these words.

“There’s just…” Theren began. “There’s a line. Between history and the present… between theory, between fiction, and reality.” He took a deep breath. “And I just don’t want to drag you into anything.”

Tornel nodded. “I’m ready.”

“Then there’s nothing left to do but to prepare the fleet. It’s their move.”

And as the two got up to do this, Theren paused, and moved back, quickly hitting a button on his desk, causing the red, holographic map to disappear. Highlighted on it had been two worlds; Bilbringi, and Brentaal.



Two Days Before

Reality and Fiction

<p align=right><table width=90%><hr>…as for the claims that the Mon Calamari Republic murdered numerous people on Kamino, those are all completely true…
-Jan Dondana, Coalition press release<hr></table></p>

“I still don’t understand why they would admit to it,” Theren said, shaking his head at the blue, holographic form of Simon Kaine. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“The alien mind is almost impossible to understand,” Kaine said sagely. “Besides which, it doesn’t really matter. True or untrue, those words will be essential to our interrogation efforts. These aliens are very moral…”

“…and if we can suggest to them that they’ve actually done something wrong, they’ll tell us whatever the hell we want to know.”

“Right.”

Theren almost chuckled. It had been several months ago that he’d concocted those charges; that he’d commandeered the services of the Imperial News Service for the first time. They’d been brought forth for one reason only; to solidify Imperial control over Kamino by removing MCR loyalists. And now, they had crossed that line between fiction and reality, somehow being admitted by Jan Dondana. They would enter the history books as having actually occurred, admitted by both parties. In a thousand years, history students would read them, and believe that they had actually occurred; they would influence the future in ways no one could predict.

“How’s the interrogation coming along?” Theren asked.

“Fairly well. Most of the aliens have been sufficiently brainwashed; it should only be a matter of time,” Kaine replied.

Theren nodded. “You know, we still have the original five – sedated and hidden in the bottom of some detention facility.” He spoke of the five Mon Calamari Republic officials – three Kaminoans and two Mon Calamari – who had been the subject of so much INS attention during the days their freedom had been bartered for warships. That attempt had failed – to no one’s surprise – and, while they’d been reported as executed, Theren had not been eager to dispose of such a valuable well of information. They’d not been too eager, however, to interrogate the prisoners; they were powerfully loyal to the Mon Calamari Republic, and their interrogation would likely entail mind-altering drugs – or at the very least, extreme violence. It had been decided that it would be safer to begin with lower-ranking loyalists, to avoid losing valuable sources forever.

Kaine himself seemed to contemplate this yet again. “Send us one of them… a Mon Calamari. Use priority transport. I’m sure our interrogators will like a challenge.”

Theren nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Ensure that INS continues to do their job, as well. I believe you have a certain affinity for controlling them.”

“Of course.” Theren had been the first to take direct control of the Imperial News Service.

“Oh, and, also. Moff Zell sends his love.”

Theren raised an eyebrow incredulously as Kaine chuckled, and disappeared.



One Day Before
Centeguard, Duro
INS Offices

Business As Usual

The offices of the Imperial News Service resided in one of the grandest and most regal buildings on all of Centeguard. This was especially impressive considering that INS had resided in a rented set of office space on the lower corporate level of Coruscant only the previous year – a fairly impressive location as far as businesses went, but certainly not approaching the prestige of their current setting.

How INS had made their rise from mid-range news broadcast to one of the most trusted and easily the most-watched Holonet agency was, in the world of the media, an utter mystery. It seemed that INS had been put into a cycle of making enormous amounts of money, then expanding, then making even larger sums of money. This, in itself, was business as usual; but that cycle, like any cycle, had to start somewhere.

Nobody knew where.

Almost nobody.

Theren Gevel was always welcome in the INS offices, treated as an honored guest and ushered around by aides who always seemed to have been ordered to act extremely grateful, though they couldn’t have known why. Only one man in the Imperial News Service could understand exactly why Theren had achieved V.I.P. status; Vorlen Karrde.

Long before INS had achieved its great fame, Theren had seen the need for a news agency under the thumb of the Empire, yet with the outward appearance of independence. While it was obvious to almost anyone who cared to look that INS presented an extremely pro-Imperial slant on the news, it was much less obvious why; after all, there were no links between them and the Imperial government, military, or otherwise. For this reason, the media could be controlled without fear of scandalous accusations of bias; INS could be trusted whole-heartedly by the people of the Empire.

And it was. Theren found it somewhat distasteful to buy off a free news organization in such a way, but it was the only manner in which the Empire’s message could be effectively communicated. It was worth the ethical tradeoff.

This day, Vorlen Karrde – an anxious-looking man in his mid-thirties, clean-shaven and with straight, dark hair – sat in his office, silently thumbing through a stack of datapads. The reason for his perpetual anxiousness was evident in his name; he was the cousin of the famous Talon Karrde, not only a smuggler and intelligence operative for the New Republic, but a fleet commander directly responsible for the destruction of an Imperial Eclipse Star Destroyer. Vorlen was also a very staunch Imperial conservative, and this had resulted in the man spending his entire life living down the reputation of his cousin.

This was the reason he always appeared clean-shaven and well groomed (the very model of an Imperial citizen); it was the reason he donated generously to the Imperial Academy. It was also the reason that INS had been so easily bought.

Theren had strode into the INS offices on Coruscant on a day just like this one, almost one year before, then as now a cigarra clenched in his mouth, then as now the flicker of a smile on his face. And, in an almost Faustian way, he had worked his magic, proposing a deal that would make INS the premiere news business in the galaxy.

For INS, it had been a deal with the proverbial devil; a selling of freedom for dominance in the Imperial news market. Vorlen Karrde, eager as ever to prove his allegiance to the Empire, had accepted the deal.

As always, Vorlen seemed to jump slightly, as he noticed Theren in his office. “Your secretary let me in,” he said, taking a seat uninvitedly. “I’m sure you know why I’m here.”

“Ah… yes, yes of course,” Vorlen said, nodding frantically and rummaging through the pile of datapads, datacards and papers on his desk, finally finding a file and opening it. “Yes, I spoke to your Grand Marshall only a day ago. We have been… well, I’m sure you’ve seen our broadcasts. We’ve been doing all we can.”

Theren eyed the man, cigarra still hanging from his mouth. “I hear you canceled a segment with a pro-peace author… a Duros.”

Vorlen nodded vigorously. “Yes, I did. Personally did it. Wouldn’t want any of that sentiment getting out, I’m sure you understand.”

“Well, Vorlen,” Theren said, “that’s a real fucking shame.”

Karrde blinked. “Why?”

“Because now you’re going to have to call him back, and tell him that you’ve rescheduled his segment. With a… minor change.”

“What?”

Theren chuckled. “INS seems to enjoy doing debate segments. I think I’ll have you do another. I’m sure you’ve heard of Moff Zell.”

Vorlen paled. “But we can’t… put him on, I mean… live, for the love of the Empire, the man’s language is worse than yours… think of what he might say…”

“I have a few other ‘suggestions’,” Theren continued, smirking.



In Orbit Around Duro
Hour of Assault

Fine Lines

Theren didn’t like waiting around for the Coalition strike. He accepted it, certainly, as a fact war that couldn’t be changed. But, almost more so than for his normal anxiety for the coming loss of life, he disliked waiting because once they struck, there would be no turning back. Mechanisms that he had planned would be set in motion, and, though it would be some time coming…

He pushed those thoughts from his mind. The fine line between fiction and reality had already been crossed in so many ways, and this was just another.

When Tornel finally stepped through the doors of Theren’s quarters, he found himself strangely prepared.

“They’ve struck. Corellia.”

Theren nodded. “Prepare the fleet for lightspeed.”

OOC:

Vessels preparing for (but not yet) jumping to lightspeed:

1 Reign-class Star Destroyer
1 Archangel Class Star Destroyer
1 Attack-Class Carrier Sphere
w/600 TIE Devils
6 Imperial-Class Star Destroyer
1 Star Avenger Tactical Assault Platform
3 Victory-Class Star Destroyer
1 Immobilizer 418 Class Cruiser
5 Rendili Drive Yards Assault Frigates
4 Corona Class Star Frigates
2 DP20 Corellian Gunship

30 Skipray Blastboats

Post may contain grammatical errors... note that the ships, as per fairness and rules, are not yet jumping to lightspeed.

Sitting in his Lambda shuttle, under the shadow and protection of Lupercus's command ship, Malice watched as the battle was now underway. The Grand Coalition had started a war that would their end. The force told him as such.

Malice knew what he had to do. His mission, told to him after the GC made their declaration of war, and before this pitiful attempt of an attack, would in the end cripple the poor army.


Now was not the time however. Both forces were pretty much even. Malice would have to let the empire play their part first.....before he would enter the fray.


*I'll let the mortals have their fun for a while. Let them show off their skills. For in the end, only the force can prevail*

Closing his eyes, Malice added in the mind melding with his fellow sith. He would aide the empires soldiers and pilots in performing at their best when fighting. There were many advantages in allying with sith........and this was one of them.

(OOC: Sorry, the above post is null and void, as is my last post. So, instead imagine I have done what is listed below in this post. The dotted line representes where the figurative second post begins. I won't edit my posts because they took quite a bit of work, for me, because I havn't got time to do that login rubbish, and also Jan may want to borrow ideas (that venting idea could be rather fun, I think.))

Regrad could tell what was happening. In the distance, flashing bolts of red and green signified battle. He pushed his forces faster and faster towards his objective. Once they had secured it, he could call Jans' forces over and his could advance, and provide covering fire. If It seemed like Jan would win, he would hold his position.

Talus and Tralus sat up ahead. High lord Regrad clacked his fingers. "We are almost there." he said. "Make sure we are maintaining a safe speed. Keep your eyes out for enemy fighters, cloaked vessels, or other hidden surprises. The very first sign of something unusual, evasive maneuavers. And keep all shields up and weapons primed, got it?"

His men nodded.

He looked back at the distant flashes. You can do it, Just keep fighting.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Regrad was now in orbit around Talus and Tralus. The garrison refused to surrender, but that was besides the point. Regrad no longer cared about an undefended Imperial World when one so close was being viciously fought over.

"There's nothing here" He said plainly "We need to head back to the main battle. Full impulse, charge weapons! Watch out for any ambushers, I want everyone on full alert for any surprise attack. If you see something weird, alert us and we'll blast it."

He turned with a pained look at the battle. You have to fight them, Jan, use your head and show them the Empire is not as immortal as they think.

With that, his forces were away.

(*edit* the post was edited to fix the comment about taking the planet too fast.)

Staging Area of the 1st Imperial Destroyer Squadron

Coruscant


“ Welcome aboard, Admiral.”


A man wearing the olive uniform of an Imperial officer and the white shoulder boards of a member of the General Staff nodded and began a quick stride into the bowels of his flagship. Behind a pair of enlisted crewmen sealed the hatch through which their commander had entered then watched a small Yard-Bee flitter away and into the mass of ships surrounding the capital.


The sound of heels clicking together resounded off every panel and surface as Admiral Baron Telan Desaria passed. When he and his two-man entourage disappeared, the two Fleet guardsmen released their rigid pose, brought their heavy blaster rifles back to the decking, and returned to parade-rest. There were no viewports to be seen as the trio went deeper and deeper into the Reign-class Star Destroyer Autarch.


“ I wish I would have come back on a more celebratory occasion or less grim assignment but the Fates are cruel. Are you abreast of the situation in the Corellian system?”


Captain Yerlinn moved a hand from its clasped position at the small of his back and stroked his close-trimmed goatee. “ I have heard the news reports. A Fleet-wide Priority-Action Alarm was sounded and had the specifics, but other than that, no.”


“ Then you know as much as I do. We are going in as reinforcements. I can only imagine what’s happening there now.”


The flagship’s commanding officer blinked solemnly and returned a salute to a group of cadets unprepared to see their Admiral. “ And specific deployment orders?”


“ Yes. I will brief you shortly. Until then, get the squadron under way. Be ready for departure in one hour.”


“ We’ve had the reactor’s idling just in case, sir.”


“ Very good. As soon as all preparations are complete, cast off moorings and engage the hyperdrive.”


With the subtly of a heard of rancors, six Imperial battleships came into formation. From them sped a mass of transports, fuel-carriers, and shuttles. It was not long before the titans stood alone in the void of space, curious lookers-on flying about at a very cautious tourists’ range.


Two Imperial-class Star Destroyers sat off the haunches of the flagship with the squadron’s other Reign shortly behind. Trailing the Solarium were two new Victory-class Destroyers in line-pattern. Built and designed to deliver withering broadsides, their position at the rear of the Fleet and un-obstructed on their flanks, every possible advantage of the older warships was exploited. All was set for a squadron to enter a battle in progress.


When all was ready, the Imperial squadron disappeared into the depths of hyperspace.

K19

The battle, thus far, was going as planned. Or rather, as planned as an attack on an Imperial-held world could be. The Shrouds carrying Sith had all broken off from their target ships, their packages delivered.

The three enemy Star Defenders, and their home-made flagvessel, had all been boarded by either the Naboo Sith Order or the Imperial Security Service, or both. Those units would already be moving into position, securing the warships for the Empire.

Captain Densel and his Shroud group had the enemy shuttles and land units cut off, and were quickly vaporizing them. Even as Colonel Janus watched the sensor screen, another of the strange-looking craft vanished. And the Coalition still had not landed a shot against the Shrouds.

"Shields?" He asked on a whim, wanting to prove his point, if only to himself.

"Online and holding at 100%." The answer came immediatly. The enemy still had no idea where the Colonel's ships were located.

He nodded and tapped a button on his console. The picture changed from a large-scale sensor screen to a more pointed image of an Imperator Class Star Destroyer, one of the Coalition vessels that had, like most of the others, failed to bring its shields back up after deploying the ground troops it carried.

An overconfident deployment that would cost not only the land troops their lives, but the enemy their most valuable warships.

All in a matter of minutes.

The Shrouds, those not occupied under Densel's command, were moving into position now. Within minutes they would be able to do what they had been designed and built to do.

"Warheads?" Janus asked. He knew it was unneccessary, but it was procedure. And it helped to relieve the building tension.

"Armed and ready." The Colonel nodded.

"All Shrouds, aquire targets as planned. Prepre for bombardment."

It was only a matter of time, now...