Time spent in hyperspace was oft wasted. Baron Telan Desaria, high-born Chief of the Imperial General Staff, however, had not risen to Admiral of the Fleet through a history of inefficiency. As soon as a course had been laid in and around the flagship stars stretched into endless lines of light, intense drills commenced. From stem to stern on every single one of the six ships assigned to the 1st Destroyer Squadron men labored under the watchful eye of officers bearing stop-chronos.
Through every corridor and hatchway could be heard the echoes of boots clicking, metal scraping or colliding with metal, and beings of several kinds shouting orders and acknowledgements. Gun crews stood to as their battery commanders ran simulated power failures; stormtrooper and Fleet infantry squads ran across entire sections of the ships responding to false intruder alarms; TIE maintenance crews ran rapid refuel simulations on an unracked craft.
High above the hull of the Autarch stood Admiral Desaria, hands clasped behind his back in the stereotypical fashion of an Imperial officer. Space whizzed by at incalculable speeds creating small reflections in his jade eyes. Behind the visible green and white burned an inferno of thought and concentration. While his men simulated confronting the various aspects of a battle, their commander ran through countless scenarios on his actions as well as the response of those he was tasked with eliminating. The duty of an Admiral was simple: cheat as many of the enemy of their lives while preserving as many of your own soldiers as possible.
“ Realspace reversion in five minutes.”
Desaria continued his gaze fore another moment taking in only the beauty of light before taking a seat on the catwalk. In his duty uniform, the Kuati Baron looked every bit the part of a young flag officer. The silver-trimmed black Imperial Cross hung at the front of his tunic’s closed collar topped with Pffor Leaves and Crossed Lances. Proudly displayed on Desaria’s left breast was the rank plaque of his station: six red atop six blue. Running atop his broad and athletic frame were the white shoulder boards of the General Staff; they were normally worn only for dress occasions, but the Admiral had one great failing – pride.
“ We are coming out of light speed, Admiral.”
Admiral Desaria turned to his right where Captain Mait Yerlinn stood at attention. Tall and lanky with only an occasional grey streak revealing his true five-decade youth, the officer had been with his Admiral for only one campaign before their current assignment. Despite obvious differences of class and thinking, the two had proven an effective combination, Yerlinn’s vigor and ruthless efficiency enhancing Desaria’s calculating presence and sophisticated manner.
“ Very good, Captain. Is the Fleet assembled?”
A nod came the port crew pit, the forage cap of a fresh-faced ensign bobbing as he acknowledged the unasked question.
“ It is, sir. All ships are in formation and report full battle readiness.”
“ Excellent. Raise shields: seventy percent fore and flank, thirty aft. Take the hyperdrive engines off-line.”
The ship’s chief engineer stood, the muscular frame developed over years of toiling in close proximity to a warship’s fusion reactor stretching out as he did. “ We won’t be able to restart for two hours after a commence command is given, sir.”
Desaria nodded thankfully. “ I am aware of that, Commander. Immobilizer arrays have been activated throughout this battle area making them immediately useless. If the enemy retreats, we have smaller ships capable of a faster cruising speed. And Commander, shunt power into a reactor substation relay and prepare to transfer power at will.”
“ Power reserve, sir?” Yerlinn asked.
“ Precisely. With aft shields that low, I prefer safe to sorry. Flight Ops – commence deployment. Lower ventral shields as our squadrons exit and return to full after deployment is complete.”
“ Aye sir.”
Desaria turned to his chief weapons officer, nicknamed like his counterpart on every warship across the galaxy: Guns. “ Send readying orders to all batteries. All projectile weapons are to be loaded and primed. Prepare firing solutions on all ships in the vicinity and chart as needed.”
The 1st Destroyer had entered the Corellian System with its guns readying and shields activating. There was one obstacle to overcome, however. The Battle in Progress was some distance away, the formation having exited its alter-dimensional portal well away from the dangerous immobilizer spheres nearby.
“ Lay in a course for the center of that battle and engage at flank speed. Keep the fighters back in picket positions. Sound general quarters.”
“I know what the @#%$ they are called. Please tell me we know something more about them than their @#%$ name?”
“Oh, of course, sir! Of course, we know much more.”
The panel of scientists and xenobiologists walked on either side of the retired Moff as he made his way down into the depths of the facility.
They entered a room where various people were pulling back skin and muscle tissue from dead aliens.
“Look over here, Moff Zell!” the head of the Xenobiology Department said, pointing to the remains of an Azguardian lying on a white operating table.
There were several autopsies being performed on the surrounding tables, the operators ignoring the Moff and his entourage.
The head of the Xeno Department removed an already cut skull fragment off the alien and Zell stared dispassionately inside.
“Their brains are arranged in a very peculiar manner.”
“How did this little @#%$ die?” Zell asked.
“Killed himself.”
Zell turned his head away from the alien remains to give the Head of the Xeno Department his full attention. “Explain.”
“It seems, from the security footage we’ve taken from Kamino sources on the Reef City, it seems that individuals such as this poor bloke served not only as noncommissioned civilians, but also doubled as warriors.”
Zell’s eyebrow rose slightly.
“It’s true! Apparently there is some chemical reaction in their brains that allows for these ‘split personality’ changes to occur. So we have civil engineer joe here.. but come some battle or fight they ‘change’ into a ‘battle mode’ if you will.”
Moff Zell’s eyes were scanning the bodies on the tables surrounding them. “This is for the entire race or just a localized mutation?”
“It appears to be the way this particular race evolved.”
A small smile formed on Zell’s lips, as the problems inherent with this evolutionary process came to mind.
“So engineer joe would have no idea what soldier joe would know or vice versa?”
“That is correct, Moff. Our typical interrogation methods do not apply. If soldier joe were given design specifications for a galaxy gun, we could not persuade, no matter what methods we applied, engineer joe to divulge the specifications.”
“Unless it WAS engineer joe who built the bloody thing.”
“Exactly! And now you come up with the fallacies of that particular evolutionary devlopement. One personality does not know what the other personality is doing. Their soldier personality is very fanatical to the point of extreme self destruction if captured.”
“But you have these.. bodies?”
“The self destruction is mental, Moff.”
“But we have prisoners..”
“Not at first. There were hundreds that off’ed themselves before we figured out what was happening. Imperial Intelligence began leaking information to the captives that the Empire was expecting the Mon Calamari to respond to the Kamino conquest instilling in them the hope that they would be rescued.”
“Why kill yourself if you are going to be rescued? You might still be able to stick it to the bad ol’ Empire eh?” Moff smiled grimly.
“Something like that. It gave us the time to stun the rest of the prisoners and keep them under until we could figure out an appropriate method of interrogation.”
“And?”
“Well, the with the hundreds that killed themselves, they gave us the necessary material to experiment with!”
Zell nearly grinned at the excitement the scientist showed at the opportunity of studying a strange and new alien species. “How accommodating of them.” He murmured dryly.
“Quite right!” the scientist excitedly continued. “We have their anatomy down their DNA figured out.”
“So you began to hypothesize and bring each prisoner out of their coma to test the theory?”
“Yes, indeed. And what we found is most interesting! Take a look here at these charts.”
“What do they show?”
“Brain development.”
“This is the soldier personality and this is the civilian?” Zell asked holding two reports.
“That is correct, sir.”
“This alien soldier is stupid.” Holding up the report with almost no development.
“In a sense, yes, sir.”
“Explain.”
“Let me see if I can do this…hmm… Well, Sir, like any living being, for abilities and intelligence to increase, the being needs.. time. Their brains assimilate, learn and grow.”
The scientist gestured to the alien on the table. “But with two separate, developing personalities, that time is split.”
Zell narrowed his eyes as he began to understand. “So while we have a soldier with 2 years experience..”
“They have a soldier, at the same age, with 1 year experience.”
“Because the other year is developing their civilian lifestyle.”
“Exactly! While you sir can be both soldier and civilian at the same time, these Azguardians ‘switch’ back and forth at will!
“So if you take their civilian to a planet by transport and he switches into soldier mode..”
“The soldier will not know where he is or how he got there.”
“But he will know how to fight..”
“If that is what he was trained for.” The scientist shrugged. “I suppose the social structure of these aliens is quite unique. Perhaps during their schooling they also switch to soldier mode and indoctrinated with combat training or specialized military training.”
“Such as..”
“Well, operation a starship.. navigation duties, weapons, computers.. things like that.”
“So their civilians have combat training?”
“The basics…yes. I mean there is nothing specialized about their training.. I mean why waste specialized schooling on individuals who’ll never see combat? But, because they have evolved their minds to two personalities, then they have to develop their combat personality at least somewhat.”
Zell was not very interested.
“So if their combat personalities were not developed, they would be.. blank?”
The scientist smiled. “If you keep a baby in the dark and do not speak to it or train it in any way, but keep it’s body alive, will it be of any use?”
“I see your point.”
“So most civilians.. or Azguardians who have chosen to live as civilians, while they have this ‘combat’ personality, it’s only very basic training.”
“They become drones for the direction of an Azguardian with a more developed combat personality?”
“Exactly, Sir! There are those Azguardians who prefer military duties so their civilian personalities are underdeveloped.”
Zell barked out a laugh. “So their soldiers can only reproduce if they rape one of their own because they are socially challenged?”
“They aren’t made for propagation. They are trained to fight, or serve in some other specialized military function.”
“The fishhead @#%$ were smart to exploit these stupid aliens.”
Zell peered into the chest cavity of another autopsy victim. “But what does this do for interrogation?”
“Well, Moff, one of their basic training for their combat personality is to kill themselves if in a no-win situation. A very basic command like the proper way to button up your combat uniform.”
“So, if the civilians feel all is lost, they kill themselves?”
“No. If the civilians are captured and feel all is lost, they know they have to switch to their combat personality. They do that and the personality takes an assessment and then, if it’s no-win, attempts to kill itself.
Because these aliens can control at will their switching back and forth, it gives us hope. You see, then the function becomes something like a conscious use of muscle.”
“A muscle we can stimulate or deaden externally!” the conclusion was firm to Zell.
“That is correct.”
“So when you wake the sons of @#%$ up, you have their muscle deadened already, so they can’t switch into combat mode to kill themselves.”
“Again correct, Moff.”
“But do their civilians know anything?”
“Sir, when the other’s killed themselves, our scans reveals this area of their brains active.” The doctor doing the autopsy commented between incisions. “When we woke them, most of them showed this area of their brains active. We measure each part to see how developed they are. This gives us an idea of how much time a particular Azguardian has spent as a soldier or civilian.”
“The civilians will know more than you might think.”
Zell snorted at that. “And interrogating their soldier?”
“Harder to do, but possible..but only in some circumstances. What is nice as that even though these aliens hold two personalities, both personalities use the same body. So if the civilian is deprived of sleep for three days, and we stimulate the muscle to turn them into soldier mode, the tired effects of their body are still felt.”
Moff Zell picked up a report and flipped through it until coming to one with a highly developed civilian personality. “I want to talk to this one. And I want another live one put into the cell so he can see me kill it.”
“Why?” the scientist frowned.
Zell grinned. “You’ve made great strides in understanding their anatomy doctor. But doesn’t an alien race who puts it into the minds of their combat personalities to kill themselves if caught or a no-win presents itself show itself to have a particularly psyche that we can use?”
“Such as?”
“The fact that these @#%$ would rather kill themselves than live with the possibility of failure. Imagine the psychological impact of being faced with a situation where you have to face the consequences of your actions? Imagine that there is no easy way out like death and they have stare into the face of accountability?”
Zell began to laugh harshly. “These @#%$ aliens are cowards! They are all set to kill themselves and that can be used to our advantage. They are about to face their accountability to the Empire. Copy what you’ve learned, encrypt the data and deliver to the Grand Marshall Kaine. This data is also going to Commodore Gevel?”
The scientist nodded.
“Excellent. Now show me the little shitface.”
Battle of Corellia
The enemy ships were being fired upon from the front, from above and from behind. Several vessels in the rear of the enemy formation were experiencing engine problems due to Trachta’s assault … Sensor and tracking damage from Admiral Chandler’s assault, and weapon emplacement and structure damage from Lupercus’s assault.
Because the ships were…
and were…
,
they were not escaping the wide trajectories that Chandler’s Fleet commanded and the Imperials had time to continue pouring on the weapons fire though mainly on the Viscounts and the Yunos, Admiral Chandler having the Sith direct their weapons to converging points on those same vessels.
Before the fleet’s shields came back up the alien commander must have issued an order to advance for the Yunos Command Ship broke it’s formation on the 3rd tier, suddenly taking the lead.
“What the hell are they doing?” Admiral Chandler murmured as the enemy was moving at a reduced speed under their many guns. The Corellian Anvil Fleet was continuously laying down a kill zone of weapons fire that the enemy seemed bent on plunging straight into.
The TGC Fleet had hesitated as it allowed time for the Yunos Command Cruiser to advance to the forefront of their fleet to lead the advance.
“Continue to focus weapons on these locations on those larger ships and that Command Ship. Rotate along our axis 180° and move forward a quarter engine thrust. Stay above them!” Chandler ordered, turning to the Sith on his bridge noting that the man’s eyes were closed, lips moving wordlessly as his orders were being relayed to the rest of his fleet.
Deflector grids, and gun positions suddenly exploded on the larger vessels, as the continuous fire was starting to travel along the super structure of the enemy.
The Yunos Command Ship finally crossed the space to clear the positions of the Viscount’s wedge formation and then the rest of the fleet fired up their engines to match the speed of the Command Ship.
“They are increasing speed!”
“Continue rotation, increase our speed and elevate the bow to keep our underside guns trained on them!” The Sith would keep it all running smoothly.
Trust them to do their job, Chandler. Just do yours!
The Defiance Hover units and shuttles had finished exiting, Chandler opted to continue firing on the capital ships. Their shields came back up.
So much for that..
“Centerpoint Task Force matching their speed! Continuing to fire!”
Admiral Chandler turned away from the scanning officer and glanced at the tactical screen.
Trachta is not going to let them get away! This alien commander thinks these capital ships move like fighters.
Against the kill zone weapons fire the Corellian Anvil Fleet was still laying down, the alien fleet still moved forward as fast as they could. The shields on their forward positioned ships were taking a beating, namely the Yunos, the Viscounts, and the larger capital ships.
The engines of the Coalition fighters flared and they began to speed up leaving their capital ships behind with their greater speed.
Admiral Chandler turned sharply to the Sith in his battlemeld and rattled off a series of orders.
The Fire Class Light Cruisers, the Shrouds, and his entire fighter compliment left his fleet behind using their increased speed ability to move forward.
“All capital ships keep firing on those weakened deflector grid areas. I want holes punched in their shields! Do not bring them down totally!”
And then the Coalition Fleet broke apart, the massive, tight, 3 tier formation suddenly scattering.
The Corellian Anvil Fleet had arrayed itself in a battle line, the support ships positioned in groups of three. The RSD, ISDs, SATAPs, and VSDs forming the backbone of that line.
“They are attacking ship to ship!” Chandler’s Executive Officer exclaimed.
“They want to, but look!” the Admiral answered. The Coalition Fleet was at the moment in extreme disarray as their capital ships began to block each other’s line of fire as they were trying to separate in attack groups.
“They have no communications!” Ibren Chandler grinned. “They cannot coordinate their attack plan. THAT was why their fleet hesitated before following the their Command Ship. They must have gotten off that command before our jamming took over!”
The Coalition fleet, though in confusion was attempting to form formations to attack the Corellian Anvil (amid the kill zone of fire still going on from the front, from behind, and from above [though behind]).
“Look at our position..” Chandler motioned to the tactical battle monitor.
The Corellian Anvil Fleet was between the Coalition Fleet and Corellia. The Centerpoint was moving in from the rear. Chandler’s 256th was positioned at a higher plane between the TGC ships and the Centerpoint Task Force.
“Hammer and Anvil!” the Executive Officer exclaimed.
“Indeed. Trachta is going to smash them against Lupercus. We will soften them up for the killing stroke.”
“Lupercus’ ships will take a hell of a beating!”
“He’s the anvil that everyone is striking against.” Ibren answered quietly. “A man like that has something up his sleeve though. Inform our advance forces to attack before the Coalition get’s back into position.”
“Aye.”
“That Sith battlemeld for coordinating our fleets was a stroke of genius!”
“The Coalition will rue the day they ever were born, Captain.” Turning to the Sith, “Instruct K101 and K102 to lay down protection to the yards.”
The Coalition Fleet lost valuable time to sorting out their complicated maneuver (complicated in the sense of having what ships accompany others to attack specific targets) without the use of communications.
From above the fast attack craft of the Admiral struck.
The continuous firing from the capital ships had punched holes into the Viscounts and Yunos Command ships. The rate of firing overloaded circuitry but the Coalition didn’t let such holes remain for long.
But there were too many and deflector grids were already overloaded due to being struck without shields at one point.
One Shroud and 100 TIE Devils shot through such holes among various topside and rear locations in all three Viscounts [one Viscount has no shroud] and the Yunos in the confusion of the Coalition Fleet attempting to sort itself out. The speed of the craft and their relatively small size allowed for this maneuver to be carried out flawlessly, the attention of the Coalition being on the Corellian Anvil Fleet.
The rapid firing ion cannon shot out from the TIE Devils along the gun lining the sides of the Viscounts removing them from action.
The shroud itself began moving along the striking against the deflector grids to open holes for the approaching Sith’s ships, targeting sensors and scanning towers.
The tiny fighters were too fast for the turbolasers of the Viscount to strike at and the blind spots they created in the firing arcs served to protect the Shroud as it moved.
The Imperial ships being too fast for the weapons of the Viscount were also protected by the Coalition Ship’s own shields.
The constant firing of the Chandler’s capital ships and the reaction of the Coalition to plug those holes discouraged any slower Coalition fighters to attempt to follow them.
With 400 Tie Devils with in the Viscount and Yunos respectively, the remaining 920, using their 166 mglt speed over flew the Coalition confusion catching the..
And began to fire their rapid fire laser hitting the Coalition Fighters from behind removing them from space.
With Corellian Anvil fighters from ahead and Chandler’s TIE Devils from behind, the Coalition fighters caught in the middle would not live long.
These fighters did notice the TIE Devils streaking by at a high rate of speed and tried to break formation, perhaps hoping to catch the Devils from behind since they were just too fast.
However, that was when the Fire Class Ships attacked, specially designed to remove the threats that fighters proposed.
Six squadrons of fighters were eliminated at the surprise these fighter killer craft gave.
The Coalition somewhat sorted out their confusion finally and began to attack each capital ship of the Corellian Anvil Fleet from their position though the Anvil was still firing.
Tralus/Talus
Admiral Ckeller watched impassively as the Coalition Forces exited hyperspace. Her hard eyes glanced at the tactical screen that showed the formations of the enemy ships.
“There is a lot of them.”
“Communications are down with Corellia?”
“Yes, Admiral.”
The older woman paused for a minute to reflect on that bit of information. “Send communiqué to Grand Marshall Kaine. Contact with Corellia lost, enemy fleet sighted at Tralus and Talus. Copy to Commodore Trachta’s office as well.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
She was inspecting the facilities of the Mechis Cluster Protectorate for the Grand Marshall when alarms had began blaring.
That report will have to wait., she thought irritably. As well as my grand child’s fifth birthday. Being naturally a tidy and neat person, he was not sure which bothered her more.
“Prepare the planet for bombardment and general assault. Their garrisons are at battle-readiness yes?”
“Yes, Ma’am. Grand Marshall Kaine’s orders were very explicit. Commodore Trachta also added his.. uh.. incentives to us as well.”
“Excellent.” Admiral Ckeller said approvingly.
“Open a channel.”
“Open Admiral.”
“To alien invaders, this is Admiral Ckeller of the Imperial Navy. You are hereby ordered to surrender your vessels and power down your weapons and shields. Such action will spare your lives.”
She smiled, her best grandmotherly smile.
“You have two minutes to please acknowledge your compliance and act.”
Who says we don’t have balls too…? Eat your heart out Zell.
Damages:
Capital Ships
1 Viscount: 1 Shroud and 100 Tie Devils between shields. Banks of weapons inoperable creating weapon blind spots throughout. Some shield grids destroyed so shield failure in certain areas.
1 Viscount: 1 Shroud and 100 Tie Devils between shields. Banks of weapons inoperable creating weapon blind spots throughout. Some shield grids destroyed so shield failure in certain areas
1 Viscount: 100 Tie Devils between shields. Banks of weapons inoperable creating weapon blind spots throughout. Some shield grids destroyed so shield failure in certain areas
1 Yunos Command Ship: 1 Shroud and 100 Tie Devils between shields. Banks of weapons inoperable creating weapon blind spots throughout. Some shield grids destroyed so shield failure in certain areas
Stealth Intruders: Structural damage on 15 ships (opening round)
Note: Running the gaunlet of weapons fire from Lupercus, Chandler and Trachta would create quite a bit of damage but I have only mentioned that from my Fleet. Trachta will mention his and Lupercus will also list damages from running the kill zone in his next post (I would imagine).
Fighters:
Over a thousand fighters destroyed between Corellian Anvil Fleet and Chandler’s Tie Devils.
Six squadrons destroyed from FCLCs
Expect all fighters to be destroyed by Lupercus in next post.
TNO damages
Shields way down on all of the Corellian Anvil ships
Positioning:
Corellian Anvil Battle line (with support craft in groups of three for fighter skirmish screen) between Coalition Fleet and Corellia.
Coalition Fighters between Corellian Anvil and Chandler’s Tie Devil squads.
TGC Fighters used for reinforcements above their Fleets position, drawn out with fly by of Tie Devil squads. Attacked by FCLC.
No fighters/or very small amount of fighters remaining with TGC fleet.
Admiral Chandler’s is between Centerpoint Fleet and Coalition Fleet though at a higher plane, now in a horizontal position (parallel) to Coalition forces.
Centerpoint Fleet is bringing up the rear (maintaining weapons range).
The assembled fleets were scarcely visible around the obscuring bulk of Corellia, but what could be seen was magnificent indeed. The Zenith fleet’s emergence from hyperspace was a great deal closer to Corellia than ever would have been allowed – or possible – by civilian or enemy craft. But an intimate knowledge of the orbital patterns of the system had allowed them to approach from the proper angle to allow them to approach the battle quickly – albeit from the other side of the planet.
“Full impulse, towards the planet,” Theren ordered, rather serenely. His slightly-stooped posture was un-Imperial enough, but the cigarra hanging casually from the side of his mouth only solidified the notion that he was not an average commander, in any sense of the word. But he seemed to be perfectly calm.
Tornel glanced at Captain Patton, then back to his commander. “It looks like they’re going for the hammer and anvil approach.”
“Then we’d better make sure that the sword we’re forging stays still,” Theren said, dragging on the cigarra. “We’ll encircle the fuckers…”
“Yeah,” Tornel said, nodding. He then took one more glance at the Zenith’s new captain. “I think that this is your evaluation day with Grand Admiral Patton.”
Tornel, it seemed, was roughly correct. In stark contrast to Theren, stood Julius Patton to his left, a man of rigid posture and few words. He wore his officer’s cap with pride, whereas Theren wore none at all; his eyes scanned the battle, darting from one vessel to another. Unlike Theren, he seemed somewhat on edge; but it was the anxiety of a veteran warrior, which only resulted in alertness.
Theren missed Kellek Shar a great deal. His old bridge captain had never been as gifted as Patton, that much was certain. But Shar had had something else – something Theren couldn’t even name, because he wasn’t sure what it was. All he knew was that it had been replaced by Patton’s cold, military precision. In the long run, Patton’s presence would save lives, however.
Patton gave Theren another of his sidelong glances. He gave the distinct impression of disliking his new commander, though Theren knew that that wasn’t entirely true; Julius Patton didn’t even seem the sort to form such arbitrary opinions of people. It served no military purpose, and military purpose seemed to be the essence of the man in question. What the glances indicated was doubt; a sincere doubt of Theren’s ability.
“Correct our trajectory,” Theren ordered. “Ensure the fleet is ninety-degrees with Corellia.”
Theren was an academic; a writer, a teacher, a controller of propaganda, but not a war commander. At least, in the eyes of Julius Patton. That suited Theren just fine, however; he was used to being disliked by other members of the military.
As they approached the planet further, Theren began issuing more orders, which Patton promptly relayed to his own crew. “Divide the vessels into the basic split we rehearsed… Battle Groups ‘A’ and ‘B’. A should, on my mark, split off and circle the planet at a wide angle,” Theren said, grabbing a lightpen sitting on one of the flat panel terminals and drawing a pair of small arcs, “to the left. B should take the right arc. Assuming our current angle is ninety, both should finish their semicircles at roughly ten.”
“And the fighter compliment?”
“Get the Attack Sphere launching, and split them evenly.”
Immediately, Patton began relaying orders to his crew, and the communications officer began relaying them to the captains of other vessels. There was a certain enthusiasm in Patton’s step; seemingly, he was impressed that his commander had, at the very least, devised a strategy worth the time it took to execute.
“Perhaps that little bastard Gevel will prove his worth, yet,” Tornel muttered, and Theren chuckled.
OOC: Battle Group A: 1 Reign-class Star Destroyer 1 Attack-Class Carrier Sphere 3 Imperial-Class Star Destroyers 1 Star Avenger Tactical Assault Platform 1 Victory-Class Star Destroyer 1 Immobilizer 418 Class Cruiser 3 Rendili Drive Yards Assault Frigates 2 Corona Class Star Frigates 1 DP20 Corellian Gunship
300 TIE Devils 15 Skipray Blastboats
Battle Group B: 1 Archangel Class Star Destroyer 3 Imperial-Class Star Destroyers 2 Victory-Class Star Destroyers 2 Rendili Drive Yards Assault Frigates 2 Corona Class Star Frigates 1 DP20 Corellian Gunship
300 TIE Devils 15 Skipray Blastboats
So that there's no confusion, the ships have split up and are rounding the planet. They are not in range yet (as they're not in your line of sight), and are not engaging.
"Alright you poor @#%$. They're not coming for you. You're just gonna have to face that. Why bring more pain on yourself? Just tell us what you know!" the man nearly screamed, causing the Azguard to try to reach for his forehead, though his arms were strapped down. The intensely bright light was already doing its work, and the interrogator's screaming wasn't helping.
Captain Patton had requested to sit in on this interrogation, the first one they had done with their Azguardian prisoner. Patton had witnessed Imperial interrogations before, but it always took him by suprise, how much brutality that humans could carry. The others watching from behind the shielded window had obviously seen enough not to notice anymore, for most of them had bored expressions on their face.
"I'll never talk! You can't make me!"
"Damnit! I'm trying to give you a break! You either talk or you die! Make up your mind quickly, because I'm running out of patience!" the booming voice now seemed to have less effect on the Azguardian's headache. Most didn't notice it, but Patton was paying attention to every little detail.
Still, with the limited intelligence on the race they had at the time, even the very attentive Captain couldn't tell why. He couldn't tell that the man was interrogating a different personality.
"I've made my choice."
The steady beeps indicating heartbeat from the sensors on the Azguardian suddenly sped up rapidly until...."What the hell happened?!" the interrogator rushed into the light, and almost grabbed the Azguard's throat with his index and middle finger. The green line representing the Azguard's heartbeat was now a straight line, and a continuing, annoying beep left no doubt in Patton's mind that the alien was dead.
"How did he die?!" The interrogator asked after his first question recieved no reply.
"I...I don't know," replied the, now very attentive, Imperial scientist, "His readings were normal until...I don't know..."
Aboard the RSD Zenith
Patton had been very interested when he had found out about the "Azguardian self-destruct mechanism". He had never heard of anything like it on any other species. And with the Imperial's prejudice against aliens, he had been given a full briefing on alien species before encountering them during his time in the Imperial Military and Navy. He had even sat in on another interrogation, though it hadn't really gone anywhere.
Borrowing a page from Gevel's book, Patton had researched everything the Empire had found out about the Azguardians, from what they looked like to what type of food they preferred. There wasn't much, but at least it gave him a better understanding of how they might attack. Patton now realized how Gevel had been able to understand races he had never even seen in person.
The Captain had also pulled up everything known about the Mon Calamari's and the "Coalition" as a whole. He had even pulled up everything the Imperial Archives had on Joren Arden, the one who had declared war upon TNO and was generally thought to be the one behind this terrorist faction.
Apparently, the Coalition was made up of the Mon Calamaris, the new race called Azguards, remnants of the Rebellion, and other small terrorist factions who saw their chance to get even with the Empire. They were also suspected to be close allies with the Tholatin Republic, and quite possibly even the Outer Rim Sovereignity, led by the now anti-Imperial Admiral Griff. There wasn't much on Arden, at least nothing of importance.
But Patton had what he needed. In his very brief days at the Imperial Naval Academy, it had been mandatory for everyone to take rather extensive courses of the tactics of the then-threat, the Rebellion (New Republic). Luckily Patton had paid attention during most of those classes, then deciding that if he already knew everything about the Rebellion's military tactics, he might as well learn about their naval tactics.
Patton was ready for the Coalition attack. Or so he hoped.
Corellia System, Approaching Battle of Corellia
Sure, Patton was nervous. He was always nervous during battles. It was that rare ability to mold that nervousness and adrenaline to hone his discipline and tactics that was what made Patton good in combat. It didn't really come in handy that much. With Gevel calling the shots, Julius wasn't much more than a glorified messenger boy.
You hate it. You hate it all. But you're afraid to leave, so you become a loose cannon.
Patton surveyed the bridge, looking around to see the order and discipline, even during battle, that one could only get from practicing time and time and time again. He stared at the crew, most of them seasoned, some of them green. But in this moment they were all equal, all the same. In this moment they were all going to risk their lives for what they viewed as right. What they viewed as just. But was it right? Patton thought so. He couldn't prove it, and despite what anyone else said, they couldn't prove it either, but that didn't matter right now. All that mattered was his opinion.
You look around, and it sickens you to think that these men might not survive the fight. Some of them might have been middle aged at 16, or even younger. And knowing all that, you now know why, exactly, you fight. Its to keep those fighting along side you alive. Its never about you, no matter what you might say. Its always about the man standing next to you.
Julius's gaze shifted over to Commodore Gevel. With the stories about the Commodore, Patton was expecting the man to be slightly different, as were most of the people on the bridge before they first saw him. Sure, Theren had the Captain dissapointed at first, but there was something wrong about putting that label on Gevel. Something he had an inexperienced officer shouldn't have. Patton could tell it by the way he commanded, by the way he fought. The man was definately not what he seemed.
It makes you happy and angry at the same time. Angry because you're not the one deciding your fate, yet happy because lives don't depend on you. But there is nothing you can do to change it either way, and that brings you temporary content. But however long that might be, its only temporary.
Bridge of the RSD Ravager, Corellian Anvil Flagship.
Admiral Pitta watched with an increasingly playful interest in the battle as he saw the final remenants of their attack come into play. There was more, of course, but for now the battle had turned. High above the eliptical plane Admiral Chandler's fleet moved with a precision bred of the Corellian Governer, the sith meld proving of immense use to the Empire. Below the eliptical Admiral Baron Desaria's 1st Destroyer Squadron had moved in, almost trapping the rebels. To their backs, the fleet of Commodore Tratchta savaged the weakly sheilded flanks of the Rebel fleet. And now Commodore Gevel arrived.
Checkmate.
Command Centre, Shroud K11.
"Sheilds down."
The Sith Lord smiled now, drifting in and out of a concious state. The technician moved quickly, informing the engine room. Everything was moving into place.
Suddenly the Sith swooned, almost falling from his seat. Another large floatila had arrived. Or two. At this point, he didn't care. He stained under the meld, taking the strain before the rest of the Sith caught notice, quickly joining to help.
"Silus. We are ready."
He closed his eyes as he nodded to his apprentice, the Hapans features twitching slightly as he found a unit of Corellian Fighters nearby. Suddenly, they had a strong desire to make a lead run on the Yunos cruisers unsheilded underbelly.
The Defenders quickly broke formation and formed up in 4 trebles, their precision testament to the artwork that was going on unseen around them. Moments later they streaked in, laser blasts and missiles raining in on the few active batteries that could have fired on the shroud. Well, had they known it was there at least.
The ship drifted up as the Defenders swooped down, continuing to harrass the batteries but careful to avoid attack patterns that would direct fire onto the shroud. Lupercus was sweating slightly, controlling the immediate actions of those fighters and the shrouds crew, rather than just enhancing them.
The cosmic ballet of laser fire continued as the shroud reached its destination. As one, the Sith and Cenobites lept out, the turbolasers of the Shroud scraping anything that could have damaged it.
Within moments the hangar was empty as the Cenobites diseminated amongst the ships halls. One for one, these creatures would decimate the azguard. But with the Sith in charge, well, the Azguards really had a problem. As he disappeared with his apprentice, Lupercus threw a butterball a tennis ball sized metal ball.
The bridge.
The Cenobite nodded, immediately slavering off in a run.
"Lets play."
His mouth was wide in his trademark deathshead grin as he spoke, immediately running off into the bowels of the ship. As he did he levitated another pair of balls. One he sent zipping along the route of the butterball, the other he sent disappearing into the distance that was his destination. Smirking he winked at Silus.
The Yunos would be his playground.
IS0003, gunnery turret Charlie.
Midshipman Lars stood at attention as the Warrent Officer made his discipline pass to ensure all members were at full battlestations. While the fighting raged on the other side of the planet, and would most likely stay there, Imperial Army protocol demanded such stringent action.
"Why do we need to bother with this Kais? Hell, the Anvils attack contingency is the only chance we have if they do strike. Our batteries are senseless..."
Lars shot his partner a sharp look.
"Dai, i don't care. Hell, these upgraded weapons are damn powerful. I can't believe they fitted each yard with a continueous beam quad turbolaser! This thing will disintegrate a freighter in a single hit! Never mind the backup."
Dai shrugged, surrendering to his partners evidently higher knowledge on the subject. Then again, he was just the gunner, that technical crap had always been beyond him. Getting back on his feet he played with the targetting computer, tracing his way through the passing warfleets ships as Commodore Gevel engaged.
Bridge of the RSD Ravager.
"Torpedos loaded."
Instead of the urgent cries of a weapons specialist the Sith to Pittas side was the cause of noise. He nodded as the Sith continued.
"And shroud K11 is active."
The Sith looked at Pitta now adding further brevity to his statement. Everyone who knew looked amongst themselves with consternation. If something happened to the Governor it would be a massive PR coup for this terrorist faction.
Admiral Pitta spoke now, his words calm.
"Fire Battleline volley now, Skirmish line on my mark..."
5 seconds passed, then 10.
"Mark."
The sith murmoured and moments later green streaks of heavy proton torpedos lanced out towards the approaching fleets SDs. They were already in disarray as their starfighters were surrounded and destroyed by their Imperial counterparts. They continued to advance into the wall of ships and lasers that would be their doom when Pitta suddenly had an epiphany of sorts.
"Order all our ships to jetison is garbage as we reload our torpedoes. Have all ships tractor the waste above us. Hold it for my orders."
Meanwhile, the Anvils fighters broke into attacking formations of 1 Defender being trailed by a pair of Starfuries. The Defender was faster, stronger and had a bigger payload than any of the attacking fighters, but the Starfuries added to their worth exponentially, making starfighter assault on the Defenders impossible. The moment someone did the droids would break off to track the engaging enemy while the Defender engaged in its primary function. Dogfight. No human enemy could hope to deal with 3 enemies at once.
"Stimy any attacks that attempt to penetrate our skirmish screen. Continue firing on their smaller ships as they close in. They have absolutely no chance now."
By now, their opponents had lost their momentum, their starfighters seeming to attack the skirmish screen randomly. With Communications jammed, there was no cohesion. And that was exactly the way things had been planned.
Governors Office, surface of Corellia.
The old man walked slowly, his impecably trimmed beard indicating a wealth and power that was echoed by his walk. It was steady, almost calculated, as if he choose every step based on how it would best feel on his shoe sole. As he walked down the mile long hallway towards the governors office he smiled, the oppulence of his protegé evident to all.
The old man smiled with warmth as he approached the Sith Lords secretery.
"I have a meeting with the Governor regarding a Hapan business Consortium. I appologise if i am a little early."
She smiled broadly, returning his warm welcome chirpily.
"Of course Sir, but the Governor is indisposed with the current attack on the planet. I assumed you would have noticed..."
The old man nodded, his mind immediately think at light speed. He cleared his throat before continuing.
"Could you leave him one message? Redentor Enterprises sends its regards. The Pitta family legacy shall be continued."
She typed the message down and looked up to thank the man, but he was gone. Strange, she thought, immediately sending the message to the Governors pile, well, at least he'll know what it means...
Action Summary
Fired Volley @ SDs.
Imperial 3 line support system holding.
Skirmish line at 35% sheilds and holding.
Battleline sheilds at 80% and holding.
Support line sheilds at 100%.
GC Support ships engaged at Skirmish screen, under fire by all lines, as well as from all side. Low sheilds on all engaging craft.
300 Assorted Rebel fighters destroyed in confused melee.
Trachta was standing now on the bridge of the Inquisitor pale skinned as ever. He was currently unable to send any instructions to his ships, but that mattered very little now. His forces were doing exactly as planned and he was loving every moment of it as he drove the Coalition forces right into Lupercus' fleet. This attack would end with the crippling of the enemy fleet since they had no way to escape. Once the New Order was finished here they would then turn their eyes on their other enemies who would feel their wrath.
"Status?" Trachta demanded in his grating metallic voice as he watched tactical displays.
"The Line Captains are following suit with us and pressing the Coaltion fleet and maintaining as ordered. TIE Raptors are ready to attack the enemy on your orders and the Lancers are maintaining defensive postions in the fleet to protect us from any foolish fighter attacks."
"Excellent," Trachta said, his emotionless red photoceptors staring at the Coalition vessels as the Centerpoint fleet continued to cut into their flanks with turbolaser blasts. It would all come to an end for the foolish enemy commander soon.
Action Summary
Centerpoint fleet continuing to press the attack on the rear of the Coalition force. Holding fighters back for the moment.
All Ships in back of Coalition force are losing shielding from continuous bombardment on their flanks.
(In the OOC post at the OOC Forum, I was declared as the new C-in-C of this battle. I had a small question concerning this battle, which I am now taking over, and I have placed it in the OOC forum. It is concerning the additional posting done by the Imperials this round. I have composed this post assuming that the extra posts are valid, but if they turn out to be mistakes, then this will be edited as nessecary. Lets' all try and enjoy this, eh?)
The fleet assigned to take Corellia was besiged. Unable to talk to each other, battered on all sides, it was time to start fighting back, to bring the fight back into their hands.
One of the ragged fighters rose in space, and launched a special missle, a flare. A handful of fighters were specially picked to carry this flare-missile, and one was fired now. It did no damage, it did nothing, it just shone brightly, appeared as a blip on sensors, and was gone.
But it was a signal.
The Coalition forces, ragged and beaten, knew what they had to do. They broke off their combats, the surviving suits covering them by flying backwards and picking off enemies with their rifles, and rejoined the fleet. Every Capital-class vessel began to ponderously regroup. The fighters caught between the wavering shields suddenly were forced to fly away, caused by either the sudden burst of speed displayed by their quarry and the risk of colliding with it like uneventful debries, or the risk of being overwhelmed by a wave of returning fighters whostruck as one against their foes. The tiny computer minds of the TIE Devils were not smart enough to face or understand the living pilots' hate. Finally, as the viciously beaten vessels reformed tightly, they struck out as one.
Stampeding through the hated and surprised Imperial formations like an enraged force of nature, they struck the foe down with Ion and Laser, with last volleys of missiles and remaining, scrounged ordinance. They cut a vicious and tight swath of death through the Corellian Hammer, cutting down all who would oppose them. The Imperials, who had until now only experienced poorly organized and inneffective fire from the Coalition, suddenly felt a storm of cold, brutally efficient rage burning upon them like a wave of crimson vengeance.
Frigates shirked and cowered as they passed, the Imperial Discipline naught compared to the rage of people who knew their lives stood on the blade of a knife. This continued until it reached the capital of this particular fleet, commanded by someone who would not back down, someone whom in the eyes of the Coalition was beneath contempt.
Finally facing a foe worthy of their anger, the fleet fought like no other fleet had before. It was strong enough to make even the fabled sith pause in hesitation before it. The shields of the Ravager flickered constantly like a blue bubble, crackling constantly and creaking ominously.
The fighters had learnt their lesson too. Keeping tight, they swirled like a single bolt of lightning, whipping around the capital vessels and smiting entire wings of fighters, who were rapidly overwhelemd. Their dogfighting had left many formations scattered and easily destroyed.
Finally, the massive capital-class and the tightly-formed frigates charged around their prey, constantly moving in circles about it and constantly firing salvos of fire into it. Upon the Ravager, its' crew must be contemplating their deaths, for indeed it surrounded them, in the form of the manifestation of decades of frustation at the Imperial intolerance, cruelty, and hate.
The Coalition, acting as one unifed, furious beast, had taken the battle back into their own hands, using nothing more then the rage the Empire had given them.
* The Defiance Classes who were trapped by the shrouds, fought valiently. But in the end, theirs was a doomed fight. But they did not go down without causing the Imperials to regret it, burning away at them until they all fell.
*
Regrads' force was blazing rapidly across space. They had left Talus and Tralus behind and now set their sights on corellia. Already many ships were visible in the distance, and the gunners were priming their weapons and making sure the shields were ready. The fighters had launched and now flew in very tight formations, clinging to the underbellies of the capitals for defence.
Only alittle longer, and then they would have their fight.
The Coalition forces, acting on a signal flare-missile from on of the fighters, regrouped all forces and stampeded its' way through the Corellian Hammers' Skirmish lines and formations, doing devastating damage on their way to the Ravager. They then let loose salvos born of desperation and hate, which is alot more effective then salvos born of Imperial Computers or cold, unfeeling Imperials.
The fighters are tight in one rapid formation, avoiding enemy fire by being fast and following the front of the formation, which is made of their appropriate flight leaders. The Leaders make sure they do not collide with ships, that they avoid heavy anyi-fighter weapons, and that they devastate anything foolish enough to get in their way. Any attempt to engage them with alot of formations at once will simply result in them blasting a hole through the formation and continuing through it, then turning around and blasting another hole, and so forth.
The Capital ships are flying in a tight circle around the Ravager, constantly moving to make targeting and mouvment difficult for the enemy. As craft are damaged they move back in the formation and healthier craft move forwards.
Regrad and his men are quickly approaching the enemy, and are prepping for the first long-range volleys.
DAMAGES:
-Ravanger, losing shields at an alarming rate. In mere moments will begin to suffer hits to hull.
-The rest of the Corellian hammer: all vessels suffered 20% additional damage on their shields from the rampage of the coalition.
-Fighter losses, 112 enemy fighters killed when the capitals engaged full speed and allied fighters swarmed in.
-48 Tie Defenders killed by guns of Coalition vessels and fighters
-26 coalition fighters lost, few because of tight formation and surprise nature of the regroup-and-charge tactic.
-Defiance classes gone, but one shroud crippled in panicked reutrn fire.
Any questions or concerns, feel free to ask them (Politely and calmly please) in the OOC forum.
*
Chaos was the order of the day. A melee of Crimson and light amoung the darkness of space. In the middle of the Coalition forces a single mind watched and absorded details of the battle with a sense of cold logic but dictated by an artificial personality that rivaled any flesh bag in complexity of thought.
C4 sat in his Modifided Trilion Aggressor hiding behind a star destroyer for cover. This war was an oppertunity that he had long waited for. A chance to hunt down dark force users within The new order itself. GC came to him with an off shortly before this conflict started.
3 days before the Assualt
In the Corperate sector C4 over saw matters of military importance on a daily basis. The work was important but tedious. To one such as this droid who was accustomed to hunting down the most dangerous prey in the universe, this work was mundane.
His Positronic droid brain finishes hundereds of tasks in minutes what would take an office of beings hours to complete.
A personal telegram was recieved under the door. C4 had his contacts in the under world. He may be a member of corperate society but he was also a feared bounty hunter. Perhaps the most feared in the universe.
Paper was quant. But untracible. The shear simplicity of it was the pull for him.
Holding the envelope in one hand he extends his pointer finger.
*Shinkt*
A small claw extends with a ting of metal. With a smooth movment he disembowls the contents of the paper.
It was a small blur of line. He focuses his visual recepters on it. Magnified several times a complex computer code is revealed. One that would take days for any decoder to analyze but nano-seconds for the droid.
It was a reading of coordinates.
Bounty payment for services rendered against TNO orders TNSO.
The droid sits in silences the paper makes crumpling sounds in the air conditioning.
"Why not. I could use some more light sabers to add to my collection." He says out loud to no one else but himself. From the claw a small incendiary chemical is exuded and the paper and it's contents go up in flames in his artificial hand.
Present Battle
The Battle was a complex ballet and the droid had his part to play. All that he had to do was wait for his moment. Like a knife the Dark force users would strike at this force and he needed to be ready for it.
"Now what is your game?" The droid asks himself.
then oppertunity presents itself. One of the Enemy ships is being knocked out of commission by the advancing fleet (The Shroud Just knocked out).
He acivates full engines a squad of MC-10 fighters is on his Aft. GC high ups gave him clearance to command small groups of forces at his discretion to fufill his Job description.
Communications were hampered so he had to resort to other means of communicating to fighters that he needed to screen him. Warming up a laser communication beacon he aims toward a near by fighter squadron. He fires a tight beam communication to the main computer of the lead fighter to contact them. He flys directly in front of them. He registers as a friendly. He beams the laser light communicating his needs at tweeve fighters of this squad in succesion.
He inclues a short burst message identifing that he has command statuas in the fleet.
"This is C4 command Code alpha Omega 7. I need your squadron to accompany me on my way." Is what the communication reads on each of the fighters screens.
He Identifies one fighter as the commader of the fighters and flys above him so that he can see the man through the cockpit windows and vice versa.
The commander 'waggles' his fighter to tell his group to follow his lead and the commands given.
In the data burst to the fighters he included his commands to take him to a newly made scrap heap of a cruiser that one of the GC ships just disabled.
The captain of this sqaud of MC-10s 'Acknowledges' that he recieved his order with a quick thumbs up. From there they were off.
The fighters flew in front of the Modified Trillion Aggressor the group of thirteen small ships skirted the edged of the Attack fleet as it made it's mad dash run. Along with the attack info he sent data for the fighters to feed to their targeting computers. A little calcualtion for Proximity detonation. Tie devils moved like darts as they skirted the edge of the fleet. One of the tweelve ships when up in smoke as they continued on. The remaining fired a Proton torp a piece ahead of them in another preprogramed pattern that the droid had supplied. The Torps explode in a line in front of the fighter escort. The shock waves from the explosion clear them a path past a swath of tie Devils. about 7 fall prey to the tactic. Their weak hulls collapsing under the shockwave of the Torps. the General fire from the Squad takes out another 4 Tie Devils. Crimson fire crosses them on both sides as the fleets exchange fire. Two more MC-10s go up in a blaze of fire as the Oxygen spirts out of the small star fighters. Still going preplanned the remaining group fires a swath of laser fire into the Derlect ships hull. Creating a pocket large enough for a ship.
As the remaining 9 fighters swing past the ship C4 fires his Tractor beams into the hull cavity. The sudden jolt of Gee force is tremendous. But the manuver was neccessary. He stayed in the fighters shadows to avoid detection by enemy sensors and this little manuver pulled him out of sight before any sensors could get site of him. Any Biological that pulled a stunt like this with tractor beams would have been liquified. One of the benifits of having an all droid ship. including the pilot.
He settles into the cavity with a thud Magnalocks are inplace on the hull and secured. He reads all the data he had from his innitial scan and then combines it with another sensor sweep of the internal structure of the ship. Being careful to keep them powered just enough to scan the interior of the hull to avoid detection. But with the battle raging about them he doubted that anyone would take notice any way.
The ship was rocked by fire yet again.
This was not a smart place to remain for long.
Sensor date indicates that most of the ship is exposed to vacuum venting it's oxygen. He does not detect life signs.
He preps two of he dark trooper droids for Zero G work. As the ship is rocked again by weapons fire.
Colonel Janus was fuming. The Sith had been safely delivered to their target craft, but the damnfool Coalition had finally realized their shields were down, and done something about it.
Now the Shroud was trapped, along with nearly 100 TIE Devil fighters, between the hull of the capital ship and the invisible energy barriers that protected it.
"Trace the ship's weak spots." Janus ordered irritably. "Shield banks, energy lines, whatever you can find. Make sure all weapons are ready to fire."
There was, he considered, plenty they could do from inside the shields. Deliver a missile straight into the bridge, perhaps, or enter one of the hanger bays and slag the ship from within.
The trick was determining which assault would cause the most harm to the enemy craft, or do the most good for Ton Karlos' team on the inside.
Bringing down the ship's command crew would undoubtably help the ISS agent in his endeavour.
"Helm!" The Cononel cried. "Bring us about! I want a full turbolaser volley on my mark into their bridge viewports. All guns to fire for thirty seconds, evasive manouvers. Let's do this thing right, people."
The orders were relayed to each of the other Shrouds, and the ships moved into position. Just aside from the bridge vieports, turbolaser cannons armed and ready.
Janus breathed in, he could see the faces of the vessel's command crew. They had no idea what was coming.
"Fire."
The Shroud's turbolasers let loose with a terrible thud of pulsating energy. The bridge viewports were designed to hold back minor energy blasts, and they did for a split second.
A split second long enough for the crew to see the energy shatter the windows and explode in on them, followed by more shots. It went on for half a minute, and then the Shrouds moved away from the charred holes that had been the bridges of those vessels.
Even as Janus watched, the effects became apparent. The computers had been wiped out, and slowly the ship was reverting to default settings. Weapons batteires, manned by droids instead of flesh and blood crewers, were going dead.
And no officers remained to take control of the ships.
For a fleeting moment, it occurred to Theren Gevel that one day, history books would bear holograms of this day. He could only imagine how his fleet now appeared, to a beaten and ravaged Coalition force, but the imagination was a wondrous thing; he could almost see his vessels; a fearsome swarm from both sides, with the Corellian sun at their backs, leaving them little more than silhouettes in its near-blinding glare.
Yes, the sun. One of Theren’s teachers in Imperial Academy had ordered him many times to cease reading the historical contexts of battles and focus on their tactical realities. Many since had insisted on the stupidity of it; he was not Grand Admiral Thrawn. How could he hope to derive any insight from insipid, dry historical texts?
How wrong they were.
The Mon Calamari formed the backbone of the Coalition, just as they had once formed the backbone of the New Republic. Theren could admit to himself that they were brilliant crafters of spacecraft without shame; it was undeniable. And to that day, many Quarren and Mon Calamari served in the Coalition fleets; as pilots, as gunners, as crew aboard their capital vessels of both Calamari and non-Calamari design.
As a species, the Mon Calamari existed underwater, and were largely peaceful, amongst themselves. Yet there had, as with all species, been a time when they’d fought amongst their own; their had been recorded battles, previous to the time when they’d emerged from the waters of their homeworld and adopted watercraft as weapons of choice. And from this history, their tactical identity had emerged; it emphasized line-of-sight and agility, as their rounded, small craft suggested.
But, despite the urgings of so many tacticians, they found it difficult to adapt to one key element of battle, in space and on the ground, that other species found elemental. The sun.
There was no sun under water.
In space, it was doubly important, as Theren had pointed out to Tornel before they’d arrived in the Corellia system. Having the sun at one’s back was an advantage often forsaken by the Coalition, given their propensity for arriving in a system facing that system’s star, and continuing to fight the entire battle that way. But being nothing more than a silhouette painted upon a blinding sun not obscured by the effects of an atmosphere was a tremendous tactical advantage.
And now, as the Zenith fleet rounded the planet of Corellia, their fighters aligned and prepared to attack, they had that advantage. The Coalition vessels, regrouped but still unable to communicate properly, panicked and somewhat disarrayed, had, Theren anticipated, reverted to instincts. And he was counting on enough of those instincts to be rooted in Mon Calamari teachings and tactics to afford him the advantage he needed.
The Coalition ships were now fully in view, and centered in the sights of both Battle Groups. They waited only for their signal. “Let them have it,” Theren ordered.
And on the cue of a single turbolaser blast from the bow of the Zenith, the fighters rushed forth, and the capital ships began to blaze away. “Begin to move forward once the Corona and Assault Frigates take point,” Theren said. It was a rehearsed attack pattern; he was conscious of the fact that once the battle began in earnest, he would only be able to communicate through relays with the Shrouds. But that would be enough.
The fighters of the Empire hung back momentarily, drawing the Coalition fighters – now suddenly facing a new foe, still in the midst of a battle with one force and with others behind them – back away from the shielding safety of Corellia’s shadow, even as the capital vessels inched forward below them, blazing away at a force trapped with Imperial forces on all sides.
Then, one of the TIE Devils, seemingly on its own, rushed forward to meet the Coalition fighter formation that had strayed from the main group to attack them. Lasers immediately destroyed it.
And then the rest rushed forward behind its wreckage. The Coalition fighters finally emerged into the Corellian sun, and the disorienting effect was almost immediate. The Imperial lasers eviscerated them visibly. The advantage was short-lived, as the enemy fighters retreated back into the shadow of the planet, but they were chased forth by the TIE Devils, but it was enough to give them a head start in tearing apart the Coalition fightercraft.
And still, the capital vessels’ turbolasers blazed away, the Coalition capital craft trapped. “Concentrate fire on the ventral sections of that Star Destroyer,” Theren ordered, and Captain Patton immediately began relaying orders. The sheer efficiency with which the Zenith bridge now worked was remarkable.
Vessels from both battle groups followed suit, and the craft’s exposed structure exploded spectacularly, rocketing forward the remainder of the vessel.
OOC:
Summary: TIE Devils and Skiprays drew out Coalition fighters into sun, and, with the sun at their backs, destroyed a good number of them. Capital ships hit the ventral section of the Star Destroyer Trachta damaged, causing severe, crippling damage.
Damages:
-Three-hundred Coalition fighters destroyed in attack with sun at Empire’s back. (Brings total number of Coalition fighters destroyed to 1100, if I am not mistaken.)
Aboard the RSD Zenith, Bastion Conclave Battle Group A
Patton was a simple man, as far as naval commanders went, and he was pleasantly suprised when Gevel gave the orders for such a seemingly simple battle plan. When it came down to it, all that they were doing was keeping the Coalition fleet from fleeing out of either side of the "Hammer and Anvil" plan the Empire had so cleverly devised.
But was it really so simple? Julius supposed not. The complexities of a such a fleet battle could not be comprehended by one man, at least not a normal man. Theren Gevel seemed to understand it all so well, all the roles that made things happen within his fleet. From the top of ladder, the officers on the bridges of the largest capital ships, down to the lowest on the rungs of the Conclave, the enlisted maintnence workers on the smallest of frigates.
It amazed Patton. He had such a knowledge of things, but it was nothing compared to the firm grasp that the Commodore had on things. His understanding was rudimentary compared to Gevel's. But did that really matter in a battle when all a commander is doing is giving out orders? Of course it did. The understanding of the people you command helps you understand how they will fight best, something the Coalition obviously had no grasp on.
Looking upon the remaining Coalition Fleet, Patton almost pitied them. Almost. Their unorganized movements they called fighting showed that each commander didn't know their peers anywhere near well enough to know what they were thinking, and for that they suffered. The complexities of a simple battle.
Aboard the ASD Imperial Way, Bastion Conclave Battle Group B
There were few things in the known universe that scared Captain James Thorton. The remaining Coalition Fleet was not one of them. Even though his ship was the biggest in the Conclave fleet, and would become one of the main targets in the Coalition's retaliation, he had no intention of losing his ship or his crew.
The atmosphere on the bridge of the Archangel-class Star Destroyer was very tense, but the battle-hardened and heavily drilled crew would not let that have a negative effect on their performance. The steadily-increasing Empire made sure of that, unlike the green forces of the Coalition. Thorton smirked at it all. It was a little embarrasing to be going up against such an enemy, but he had his orders from Commodore Gevel, and every member in the fleet had learned to respect the Theren's orders, despite his background.
"Sir, do we have permission to advance?" the man at the helm asked.
"Not yet, helm. Commodore Gevel wishes all of the Frigates to be in place at the point before we advance." the Captain responded, almost grinning at the lack of excitement in the helm's voice. It was just like training, only the enemy was less skilled...and real, "Patience."
Aboard the Rendili StarDrive Assault Frigate Violent Diplomat, Bastion Conclave Battle Group A
They were the last ship in position, but not because of their speed, or any lack of training. It was according to the battle plan. Even with the lack of communication, every ship was sure to play their part perfectly, and Captain Jason Biggs of the Violent Diplomat wanted his ship to be no exception.
Staring out the viewport, his gaze drifted over to Battle Group B, every ship lined up almost exactly with Battle Group A, even with the jamming. This moment had been rehearsed over and over again in so many different scenarios, and they were ready.
Captain Biggs's stare did not avert from its place as he gave his orders, he didn't even blink as every ship in the Conclave Fleet powered up their engines at nearly the same time. He wasn't even suprised as he noticed the utter destruction of the Coalition starfighters. Not even the slightest grin. Not even the slightest frown.
A battle that would be long remembered was about to begin for the Bastion Conclave.
