Hunter-class Starfighter Mako 9, en route to Nar Shaddaa

Lieutenant Rush Anarth laxly gripped the control yoke of his Hunter as the starfighter soared through hyperspace. Glancing at his wrist chrono, the Corellian turned off his portable music player. Twenty seconds passed, and his craft began to lightly vibrate. He grimaced, his icy eyes watching the star-lines of hyperspace cut out as ship cut into realspace. The giant speckled orb of Nar Shaddaa dominated the space in front of him. Glancing to the side, the fighter jockey could make out dozens of jet-blue exhaust trails all around him; all from other Inferno Fleet starfighters assigned for the mission: forty-eight Hunter starfighters, twenty Kalrechi heavy fighters, and four Skipray Blastboats. More likely than not the largest non-Imperial force the planet had seen since the resurgence of Admiral Snowkan. He spared a quick glance behind him; the micro-jump from just outside of the system had taken the starfighter wing past geosynchrous orbit and into the planet’s upper atmosphere. While the micro-jump had given the rebel starfighters an element of surprise in their attack, it also left them immediately blind to their aft. The soldier thought he could make out some larger gray shapes, but skidding across the atmosphere tended to make visual observation somewhat difficult. His headset comm. crackled.

“All right people, let’s show them the flag, and have a little fun with it. Break by flight pairs, and you know the drill, run when you see too many Imp ships. I’ll see you at the rendezvous point. Mako Lead out.”

“All right; let the joyride begin,” shot off Anarth, “everyone better get ready to buy me a few rounds of drinks when I get back. I’ll be your designated savior today.”

“Nine,” demanded Mako Leader, “we know you’re good, but for the Maker’s sake, shut the hell up.”

Rush grinned and slammed the yoke to the side; his Hunter barrel-rolled over to its portside. Mako Ten followed his trail, albeit in a simple banking maneuver. The Corellian tapped a button on his HUD, which brought up dozens of hostile targets in red and neutral targets in blue. He selected one of the blue ones: a simple comlink communication’s satellite a mere kilometer in front of him. Rush squeezed the second trigger, and a staccato burst of slugs ripped apart the craft’s weak hull. Debris from the satellite simply fell towards the planet, burning up in a hundred different conflagrations as it reentered the rough atmosphere of Nar Shaddaa. Across the planet’s skies, Inferno Fleet starfighters made their assault not on grandiose Imperial warships, but whichever easily assailable satellites or small starships which they happened to come across. Such action would not cripple the Empire, but it would at least temporarily cripple the planet’s infrastructure as comlinks and other communication devices failed. With their satellites went the ones for intelligence, weather, and traffic control. It was the introduction of chaos to a realm obsessed with order. These were the shots which announced Inferno Fleet’s bid against the Empire; against order; against the status quo.

~

What has gone on before...



"Imperators. Mark I or Mark II's, I would guess.." her voice signaling curiosity as well as sudden satisfaction. Such aging starships would be no match for her.


"The Supreme Commander taunts you," came an angry retort and Malice turned a slightly affectionate smirk to her Second in Command.

"The Supreme Commander is many things but one who taunts? No. He works wheels within wheels...." her voice trailed off softly as if struck by some sudden idea. "Or is it simply all smoke and mirrors?"

Her Second in Command turned a questioning glance at her and through a nervous glance back at the computer display showing Malice's line of Reigns facing Simon Kaine's fleet of ...well, Imperators.

A snort of derision interupted their reverie and Captain Malice turned to a scowling Azrael Zell. "Simon Kaine is a fucking asshole," he gruffed out as if his words were a welcome cloak.

Malice, however cold she might be, felt no need for such petty reassurances.

Sensors showed both fleets with their shields up, Kaine's fleet bent on defending the world that she would make hers and her fleet preparing to hammer them. She felt the cycling of the secondary batteries, or was it simply her imagination? A slight hum or vibration detected at that certain level where master and vessel seemed in perfect communion.

Kaine had taught her about it. Kaine had described it to her but until this moment, it was merely all words.

And now she was going to use that instruction to destroy her mentor.

"Their weapons are hot and preparing to discharge.." her Second in Command informed and she nodded slightly letting loose the order ... the plan she had prepared since this action's first inception.

An axiom of war that Kaine had instilled in her..


Use what you have and use it to it's fullest.

~

Nar Shadda - Present Day



Commodore Malice was looking over the reports, the city-moon of Nar Shadda spinning in the distance. Or perhaps it was simply the smog and filth induced haze that seemed to cover everything upon the surface that created the impression of a world spinning. Perhaps instead of spinning it was simply stagnant. Rank with strife, murder and all those pleasantries the underbelly of living beings immersed themselves in.

The Empire had come to establish some sort of control over the former empire of the Hutts and while the New Order's will pretty much dominated the pomp and gloss of the area, she was sure that reality bespoke another story.

Unless the Empire truly wanted to lay waste to both Nar Shadda and it's primary, Nal Hutta, there would truly be no way the Empire would ever tame, let alone, control things here.

Not that they had not tried.

Her eyes showered amusement at the reports of Wes Vos, the former Colonel who took the Empire's War of Order to the surface only to find himself undone and frustrated.

The Sector had been under the control of the Army long enough. Too long, if anyone had asked her opinion.

Now, Fleet would take the reigns once more and so Commodore Malice, recently promoted after meeting with his August Majesty, Emperor Hyfe, traveled to her new territory, the Over-Sector Outer..sector.

She scowled and for the umpteenth time wished a swift execution for whoever gave the bloody territory that stupid name.

For all the expense Army through into the submission of Nar Shadda, there was very little to show for it.

She could not understand why it was not a certain thing that once Grand Admiral Desaria had established Imperial domination of the area, Fleet would naturally begin to administer the area?

But such reasonableness was not to be the case. As with all things, politics intervened. And anyone who believed an Empire moving to the will of an Emperor did not have it's share of politics (equally as bad as a democracy) were either stupid, blind or both.

The planet's power was in it's dual relationship with Nal Hutta, both controlled through various criminal organizations and both sharing a symbiotic dependence with each other.

Nal Hutta could not very well survive without Nar Shadda nor could the opposite be true.

If the Empire could not remove the controlling criminal factions of Nar Shadda, it was because Nal Hutta supported these factions financially as well as materially.

Wes Vos was a perfectionist. Her eyes narrowed as she perused her report on him. But he was fighting a war he could not win here and so he was assigned somewhere where his particular talents and strengths could be of greater benefit to the Empire.

Or so the Imperial High Command would like us all to believe about ourselves and our assignments.

The Fleet would continue it's endless patrols protecting Imperial interests in the sector and reinforce our garrisons where necessary.

She was content that the Empire had made their intent to establish order known and she felt the Hutts and their ilk had made their spurning of that goal just as known.

She understood that.

Now it was time for both of them to prosper. Let the Hutts make their money. Let them work their schemes and the Empire would be there to destroy pirates, smuggers, rapists and killers that such places like Nal Shadda created on a daily basis.

She looked over the massive inventory amounts of what Colonel Vos had brought to the OverSector Outer and was impressed by the man's ambition. Had the High Command given the man more time, one more year perhaps, who knew what sort of places Nal Hutta or Nar Shadda would have been?

"What to do with all this..." she murmured to herself.

And as she drummed her fingers absently on the surface of her desk and alarm permeated sending crew and officers alike to their battle stations.


No rest for the wicked!



*


"Report!" she ordered crisply as she walked out of her office and onto the bridge.


"A force of about five squadrons has entered the system, refusing hails."

"IFF?"

"None."

"None?"

Her eyebrow rose and the officer stammered, "Well, Nothing recognizable."

"In the future, make your reports concise," and turning away from the abashed officer, she ordered, "All Capitals: send out a screen and then raise the shields."

Another Officer looked up confused, "Sir? We are not going to attack?"

She turned to the Sensor Pit questioningly and a Sensor Officer looked up as she stalked near, "Ma'am, they have not engaged any Imperial ships. They seem to be heading for the planet."

"They cannot be friendly at the speeds they are traveling," she inquired noting the BAC holographic projection.

"Granted. They are trying to put A-wings to shame at their speeds," remarked the man.

"Scan them. I've never seen their like.." Malice murmured to herself and then as an afterthought, "Tell the Tantamount to launch several hyperspace probes to back track their vector."

The orders went out and an Officer walked up. The Second Officer. "You think they have support ships?"

Malice frowned. "Fighters with hyperdrive capabilities do not necessarily have to have such conveniences. But if these fighters came from a long way, their pilots are strained and exhausted. Flying through hyperspace, after all, is not like dusting crops."

The officer nodded, "I do not envy the pilots having to sit through that," and looking over a sensor-reading report acknowledged, "I think you are right, though. A sensor caught a flash of their hyperdrives trying to engage again. Their telemetry would have put them in the upper atmosphere."

"Hyperdrives do not work within a gravity well." Malice murmured and the officer agreed. "They were probably disoriented and flickered them on but they are making tracks to the location anyway."

"Shall we destroy them? They've entered the targeting of three.. maybe four ships.."

Malice looked at the Gunnery Officer and felt a surge of pride. She shook her head. "No. These may be friends of the Hutts," though her voice betrayed her lack of belief in that area.

"They are, more than likely, pirates out to wreck the Hutts," the Second Officer remarked trying to be agreeable.

"Then let the Hutts take care of them. They certainly schemed and worked against Colonel Vos hard enough for the privilege! Let's give it to them." she replied coolly.

The Imperial warships, devices and personnel throughout the system went on alert.



"Strange.." she whispered.

"What was that?" her Second Officer asked.

"They are taking nearly the same path Grand Admiral Desaria's nemesis Admiral Snowkan took during his attack."

"You mean, Snowkant?" the Second Officer tried to laugh at his own joke but Malice simply ignored him and his laugh turned into a cough at his embarrassment.

The locals had termed the corridor 'Snow-kouldn't'.


Only time would tell what these new devils would be about.



The fighters started their barrel rolls...



....and fired on a satellite.


"Incoming information from the first probe."


"They are pirates!" snapped the Second Officer and Malice agreed. The unknown fighters seemed hell bent on simply shooting down whatever was in range of their guns, manned or not.


A full passenger transport from Nal Hutta arriving at Nar Shadda.

Another half full transport that was returning to Nar Shadda from Nal Hutta.

A weather probe.

Space junk.

An old analog entertainment satellite that transmitted programs in a tongue no longer spoken on Nar Shadda.

A craft of some crimelord's personal accountant.

A shipment of some Hutt's stolen Alderranean Art.

A family on their first vacation.

Rhodian refugees.

All dead and mounting.

If it was not so bizarre an action, Commodore Malice might have been impressed with the numbers in such a short period of time.

From the planet's surface came the custom space fighters of various criminal organizations and Hutt overlords with the intent to destroy the upstarts they thought were trying to intimidate or crowd in on their territory.

Malice watched in amusement as a Communication Officer came up. "A Prelate or other from Nar Shadda is demanding speak to you."

Her eyes narrowed and her lips pressed together. "Wait until he begins to whine and then transfer the call.."

Three of the attacking fighters were destroyed but they had the advantage of speed, position and purpose for the moment against the growing numbers of criminal craft rising to intercept.


"Second probe's data coming in..."

Mako 9, in Nar Shaddaa Aerospace

Rush pushed a flight pedal, and his Hunter fought the weak, but veritable gravitational forces of the moon; his Hunter spun about to face one of the newcomers. The smoggy atmosphere seemed to shift and warp around him, and for once in a long time, he fought the urge to hurl. And suddenly, the slim, rusting silhouette of an older model Z-95 came into view, rapidly firing its weak triple blasters. Most of the red bolts went wild, but several of them smacked into his starfighter’s shields, producing a chord of oddly energized pings as gases caught in between the shields rapidly collapsed and expanded. The Corellian spared a quick glanced at his shield monitor. Well, 85% isn’t that bad. He tapped his secondary firing trigger, unleashing twin streams of ion bolts at the atmospheric fighter. The other craft weaved around one stream, and right into the other. Sparks flew out of the Headhunter’s port wing as internal circuitry, maneuvering equipment, and weapons were fried. Anarth gently nudged the trigger over, and both streams of ion bolts drove into the Hutt fighter. Blue lightning sprawled across the Z-95, making it appear to almost be a piece of electronic art for a few brief seconds. The ship wobbled, and then began to plummet as its repulsorlifts failed. A flare of light erupted from the other cockpit, and the Z-95’s ejector seat carried its pilot away to safely. Sighing, Rush shoved the control yoke to his right, guiding Mako Nine out of the doomed fighter’s path. His comlink crackled.

“I think we baited the wrong fish,” considered Mako Leader, “the Imps seem to be doing nothing…”

“Or the right ones,” suggested Ten, “at least these guys are a hell of lot easier. Poor training, ships that are falling apart, no sense of tactics or directions at all…easy kills…”

“And the Hutts aren’t exactly…innocent…Ragnar, at least, will be pleased.”

“But they’re not the Imps,” sighed Anarth, banking his fighter around a piece of falling debris, “and they’re the ones we came for. Plan B, leader? We do have one, right?”

Lead lightly laughed. “Do you know how many contingency plans Dha’tey has? Yeah, we do. Sunleaf Squadron, Bloodletter group, are you in position?”

“Sunleaf is,” replied a squeaky voice.

“Yes,” replied Bloodletter leader coolly.

“Everyone else, drop what you’re doing, engage your scramjets, and let’s escort Sunleaf and Bloodletter to their alternate target.”

Hunters and Kalrechis hurriedly disengaged from their dogfights, and jetted far away from their foes, using decoys and the thick smog to cover their retreat. Meanwhile, Bloodletter group, composed of the four Skiprays, along with Sunleaf Squadron, flying Kalrechis equipped for ground attack, plunged through the smog and clouds to the ground below. Several kilometers from the ground, the Kalrechis of Sunleaf Squadron dropped cylinders the size of garbage cans, and began to climb up. Bloodletter group released fiery streams of concussion missiles, and it too began to climb up to rejoin the other Inferno Fleet starfighters. Several seconds passed, and a massive fireball rose up from what use to be a small military base milliseconds before. In the meantime, the Hunters found themselves beating off the Hutt starfighters which had invariably found the Inferno Fleet fighter group. Rush lined up in his manual targeting sight on a Cloakshape pursuing one of Sunleaf’s Kalrechis. He tapped a firing stud, and his ship’s slugthrower unleashed a stream of metallic bolts at the unshielded starfighter. The bullets drilled into the Cloakshape’s wings, and managed to detach the tail boom in the process. With a wing missing, the Cloakshape began to uncontrollably spin about; Rush winced. Sorry buddy, didn’t mean to put you in the vomit comet. Anarth tapped the stud two more times; several bursts of bullets chewed into the wildly rolling ship. The last bullets lanced into the Cloakshape’s repulsor unit. The Hutt fighter began to plunge to the ground. As he banked his fighter around, his comlink crackled again.

“Moving onto target two…”



Modified Super Transport Mark VI Death’s Jaws, Askam Asteroid Belt

Captain Ed Langdon picked away at the lint stuck on his crimson uniform, and flung it into the air with contempt worthy of Tarkin. The small man quietly paced over to the converted cargo ship’s communications station, and stared over the specialist’s shoulder. Langdon cleared his throat. The other man swiveled about on his chair.

“Ah, still nothing, sir. We aren’t due to receive a message from Mako Squadron for another five minutes…”

The captain sighed, and turned to the ship’s flight controller. “Why do you launch the second wave so soon, Sub-Lieutenant?”

The mottled Ithorian grumbled through his T-shaped mouth. “With a ship like this, it will take some time for all of the fighters to be launched. Not all of the fighters are launched yet, sir. Stormwalker squadron doesn’t even have one of its ships out…”

Mumbling to himself, the wiry man shuffled back to his own chair. As much as the former liner captain hated to admit, the Ithorian did have a valid point. At one point, Death’s Jaws was actually the Trax Lines Grasshopper, one of the venerable transports which ferried around supplies across the Trax Sector. With Fossk’s rise of power in the region, the General had bought the cargo ship, and after having renamed it to Death’s Jaws, used it to ferry around supplies to his army and replacement starfighters to his navy vessels. That is when the first makeshift hangar had been dug into the ship’s portside. After its capture by Inferno Fleet, the port and starboard sides had been mostly cut out and magcon fields had been installed to make makeshift hangars; resulting in a large carrier ship: a necessity for an organization which frequently traveled far from its Unknown Region’s base. It was, however, with its weak hull and no weapons something of a vulnerability to the fleet. Now the starship hovered around in the unfrequented Askam Asteroid Belt, twenty-five light years away from Nal Hutta and several light years out of Hutt Space. Hiding in the depths of the asteroid belt with the carrier were a pair of crimson-colored Torch gunships. And near the edge of the belt, a group of starfighters originally destined to be the second wave of the Nar Shaddaa Assault rendezvoused around a large asteroid: one moved by the gunships to act as a mass-block for the starfighter’s navigation to and from Nar Shaddaa. But it would soon pull out several objects, none of which were starfighters, and none that Inferno Fleet would particularly welcome. Langdon’s sensor operator shouted.

“I have several new Cronau radiation bursts coming from the rendezvous asteroid.”

Langdon rose and frowned. “Have any of our ships returned?”

“No-”

“Have any of our ships left?”

“No,” replied the sensor operator, “the signatures were very small; even for starfighters, I think.”

“Probes,” managed the ship’s XO, “could be from a potential prospector.”

“A prospector doesn’t need several probes at once…” muttered Langdon, “and I don’t think the timing is coincidence. Tell the second wave to track down and destroy the probes at once. We’re going to have start moving out of the belt to make our escape.”

“Sir?”

Ed snapped, “I’m not taking any chances with my life, soldier, or yours for the matter. At least not in a ship like this. We’ll be lucky if a customs corvette doesn’t blow us to smithereens. Helm, start taking us out of the belt in the opposite direction of the rendezvous asteroid. Talk with Nav, and plot us a hyperspace course to Nav Point Radiance Three.”

“Yes sir.”

The Ithorian murmured, “What about the fighters?”

“I don’t care about the fighters, either group. It’s their problem now. Tell the second wave to track down the probes and scatter back towards us, or take the pre-planned courses to the Radiance nav point-”

“Ah, sir,” interrupted the helmsman, “the fighters might get there before we do. It’s going to take us about ten to fifteen minutes to simply get out of gravitational pull of the belt so we can make the jump…”

Ed quietly swore. “Well, work faster. Your life depends on it. And speaking of life, send a coded signal via our relay satellite to the Group One. They’ll have to meet up with the Fleet at Radiance Two, or Three...whatever back-up nav point Dha’tey told them to do…”

“On it.”

Langdon stormed over to the bulky ship’s viewport, and stared towards the rendezvous asteroid. A tiny spark engendered itself and disappeared. An officer reported that one of the probes had been destroyed. Langdon exasperatedly shook his head.

“It took too long. Now the probes have definitely seen us.”

“Sir?” questioned the Ithorian.

“With our energy signatures? It’ll be hard not to know that something’s here that probably shouldn’t be here. They probably don’t know what we are visually given the density of the belt and the distance, but our location is known now. Let’s just hope we can move fast, and they arrive too late…”



Bothan Assault Cruiser Armageddon’s Hammer, Deep Space

“Notice how the Imperials are doing nothing? I think they could care less about the Hutts…”

“You find that surprising? They’re xenophobic, and what better way to eliminate one’s enemies by having them fight each other,” told Kre’fey, “it’s an almost Bothan maneuver.”

Sei’lar and Kre’fey watched the composite holo-map of the battle at Nar Shadda, as seen from a couple of unharmed satellites taken over by Crescent Flame’s CURSE unit. While waiting for the planned Imperial response, the two speculated on what would happen next, and moaned the Imperial response, or lack of direct one. The Bothan spy pointed out a yacht hit in the fire fight.

“Don’t you think that’s a liability? Destroying everything in sight?”

“No,” replied Dha’tey, “The military might of the Empire rests on its people, politically and economically. And while this may not really hurt those who are supporting the Empire the most, it’s a harbinger to those worlds which do. It says, if you support the Empire or are harbor to its government, then this is what’s going to happen to you: we are going to destroy your way of life. And if we destroy the Imperial infrastructure, then the Empire falls apart, economically, politically, and militarily.”

“Won’t they be united by the fact that we’re killing them?”

“Are we?” smiled Dha’tey, “you’ll notice that no-one is firing at the escape pods… Look closer, did you see the escape pod jettisoning away from the yacht, or perhaps the dozens from that liner? We’re there to destroy property, not lives. The more people we let live, the more witnesses there will be. The squadrons know this, I told them this, and they have been explicitly ordered to keep people alive if they can unless it means risking their own life or those of other Fleet members-”

“Commodore,” interrupted a bridge crew officer, “Captain Langdon has found probes on the edges of his asteroid belt, and he’s eliminated all of the probes based on Cronau radiation count. But just to be sure, he’s evacuating all Inferno Fleet Forces out of there…but its going to be some time before they’ll be able to get all out…”

“How long?” demanded Dha’tey.

“Eh, about dozen minutes, give or a take few minutes,” estimated the other officer.

“An Imperial Fleet could arrive in that time,” suggested Sei’lar.

His fur rippling, Dha’tey nodded in agreement. “The Imp’s Nal Hutta fleet could arrive roughly five minutes before the Jaws is out. It’ll take them some time to plow through the belt to get to them, but there’s a possibility their star destroyers could even get to the Jaws in time if they get smart.”

“If they use starfighters…”

“Then the Jaws is in real trouble,” confessed Dha’tey, “we may have to move to cover them.”

“All of the ships?”

“Many of the ships, I think....everyone except for the Wandering Ones and the first and second skirmish lines.”

“But that’s not enough strength for our ambush of the Imperial Fleet…”

“I think,” suggested Kolir, “that the enemy has inadvertently ruined our well-laid plans to get them here. But we can improvise. Helm, take the Hammer and put us on a course to the western quadrant of the Askam Asteroid Belts, say, several hundred thousand kilometers away from the designated rendezvous asteroid being used by Fighter Group Two. I want all ships to follow us except for those of the First and Second Skirmish Lines, as well as the Wandering Ones. They are to stay here, and be ready to follow up on our other contingency plans.”

“Aye sir, nav computer says we can be there in four minutes.


Dha’tey merely nodded and walked over to his command chair.

Sei’lar mumbled. “Are you going to tell Langdon about our arrival? Perhaps coordinate something with him?”

“No, I think not. At least not yet. I have an idea for the arrangement of our ships to cover the Jaws’ escape, but we can’t have any loose signals to get picked up.”

“By who?”

“The probes, or any other recon force the Imps are sending. We’ll be out of sensor range for most ships near the Rendezvous asteroid, and I’d like to keep it that way until the opportune moment. Give us a little surprise.”

Minutes later, the Inferno Fleet ships jumped from their deepspace location to the Askam asteroid belt, and once there, began their preparations for the alleged coming of the Imperials. In the meantime, the rest of the ships from 1st and 2nd Skirmish Lines, along with the Wandering One vessels which had joined Inferno Fleet for this mission, made their own hyperspace jump to an undisclosed location.

~




What has gone on before...



"The Imperator's weapon systems are holding!" an excited officer relayed and Malice turned an annoyed glance in his direction. First, his outburst was not quite proper Bridge form or etiquette and secondly, the surprise in his voice indicated doubt that her strategy might work on Kaine.


Of course it would work!


"The program has been uploaded and will take a few minutes to work it's way through the enemy's operating system." her Second in Command commented walking back up to her from the Communication's Pit.


She already knew that her shields were not raised and her weapons were only now beginning their power-up cycle and as the two fleets closed the gap she wondered what was going through the Supreme Commander's mind.

To be approached by an opponent who did not feel the need to raise her shields? The arrogance he must think she is displaying.

Perhaps he is thinking he could use that somehow?

Malice smiled to herself.

To be upstaged by the younger, more technically savvy up-and-coming officers; To be pushed aside as a relic of past victories no longer relevant must grate on the Supreme Commander at some level, no?

Simon Kaine had been her first patron and she had worshipped the ground he walked on until he sent her to Bhindi Drayson for "further education". It was Bhindi who showed her the hard cold truths of the universe.

Victory did not rely on passion, hatred or even love but on the immutable laws of reality. A reality that was Imperial power, Imperial aggression and Imperial supremacy and a reality that had no time nor patience for sentiment.

She could see that line of truth in Azrael Zell's choice to be at her side supporting what she stood for rather than Kaine's. Strange that was for there were many a holonet footage showing both Kaine and Zell at the various public appearances denouncing their enemies and keeping the Empire generally informed; even if it was disinformation at times but always united, in solidarity. And now, Zell's derision of Kaine seemed all the more shoring up of support for the words of Bhindi Drayson.

The Reign's incorporated multi-generational artificial intelligence systems and boasted the greater sophistication to Kaine's warship's of choice.

Or perhaps it was all he could scrape together? Now that was a pity in itself since Kaine's flag was a modified Reign.

Her intelligence had informed her the famous flagship had been damaged in a fight against some aliens on the far side of the galaxy and would be in dry dock for quite a while. With the Supreme Commander's vaunted 256th scattered to hell and gone and his flag out of reach, he was never so vulnerable as he was now.

The time to strike was... now!

And now, she had him.


Kaine's weapons had started their powering up cycle much earlier and despite her being on a technically more advanced warship, turbolasers no matter the style, type, barrel count, or whatnot they were still turbolasers and Kaine's ships should have been able get off a first barrage.


Not that Malice was fearful of her fleet's ability to take Kaine's slugs and return in kind, but she opted to use what she had at her disposal to attack Kaine in an area he, hopefully, would be ill-equipped to deal with.


Computer transmissions occurred quite rapidly and the sending of data (even across light years of exspance) for instantaneous communications hinted at capabilities even a cycling turbolaser just could not quite match.


Even better as she had the infiltration programs already prepped for the action knowing there was no way Kaine could defend on every front and account for every possibility.


And so, the first act of the Malice's infiltration programs was to strike at Kaine's offensive capability.


She was not sure what would happen but the program seemed to prevent the weapon systems on Kaine's fleet from discharging. They simply were powered up but static.

Such a demonstration of her superiority and Kaine's subsequent reaction would tell her the kind of battle this would turn into.


"The enemy is still closing.." her Second in Command muttered and Malice nodded.


The program's initial attacks were to be against weapons with prepulsion being secondary so she did not expect an immediate change in the enemy's movements unless prompted by the enemy himself.


"The enemy shields just went down!" another call from the Sensor Array Pit and Malice felt surge of satisfaction.


"Raise our shields," she ceremoniously ordered and excitement swept across the bridge like an electric current.


"Weapons cycled," her Second in Command whispered and Malice held back a laugh of delight that almost bubbled forth.


"Prepare to fire," she calmly ordered.


As her mouth opened to execute her next order, another shout rang out, "Communication from lead enemy warship! It's Supreme Commander Kaine!"


Her display flickered on at her order and a visibly annoyed Simon Kaine appeared.


"What have you done to my fleet, Captain?"


Oh yes, he was clearly annoyed and it was everything she could do to keep from grinning like a fool.


Azrael Zell had no such inhibitions. "Kicked you in the balls, Kaine, we did! Without even firing a fucking shot!"


Even Zell's use of the presumptuous "we" was not enough to knock Malice from her giddy heights.


"I am prepared," she started, marveling at her own calm demeanor, "to accept your surrender, Supreme Commander."


A silence shot through the bridge as the import of her words sank in. Simon Kaine, Supreme Commander of the Imperial Armed Forces, had never surrendered to anyone. Entire factions sank to their knees before his schemes. Planets would be wiped away at a sweep of his hand!


And here she was casually tossing around words like "surrender" before the man!


Her intense gaze almost willed that the man turn a contemptuous glare her way and toss caution to the wind demanding that if she wanted to get him she would have to tear the duraplates off his archaic destroyers one by one!


But her gaze also projected that she was willing and prepared to do exactly that.


Plate by plate.


The Supreme Commander's annoyed scowl suddenly changed and his shoulders dropped as he sighed. It was as if the man had come to realize the precariousness of his situation and knew there was nothing he could do about it.


He had gambled and lost.


It was at that moment that Malice knew..


She knew!



She had won.


"Fucking anticlimactic bullshit.." muttered old Zell.





~




Nar Shadda - Present Day







"Commodore," came the whisper from a nervous Second in Command.


Malice turned her gaze from the orb of Nar Shadda, the pin-point lights of explosions hardly noticeable to the naked eye, to her officer and he cleared his throat..


"Ah... The local Magistrate is.. whining."


She turned her gaze back to the viewport. "Put him on."


The view from the planet's surface of the minor mayhem breaking out overhead would undoubtedly be more...spectacular.


A holographic projection of an alien appeared behind Malice's back and the hologram jittered and danced in agitated impatience until Malice slowly turned and acknowledged it's appearance.


"Yes, Magistrate. What can I do for you?"


"You can protect Nar Shadda from these genocidal attacks!"


Commodore Malice had to give the alien credit. Usually, the purview of exaggerating damages and actions of an enemy rested in the ever capable hands of INS.


"The attacks seem random and do not target specific racial profiles."


"Those poor Rhodian refugees.." the alien wheezed in an admirably mournful tone and brought an amused expression to Malice's features.


The projectile weaponry the attackers used did not leave much in the way of survivability as the slugs ripped through unprotected durasteel like butter pasting anyone and anything in their way. Even if the projectile's velocity were suitably retarded by the initial penetration, it would have retained just enough to simply bounce around the insides of the vessels targeted. The refugees, crew and passengers of other such ships would not have much in the way of survivors. If someone were somehow protected in a cabin, in a refresher room, or other such fluke of chance the decompression stresses caused by physical penetration of the transport would have been enough to rip the craft open spewing it's contents throughout the Nar Shaddan skyline.

This was not to say that there were no survivors. A Hutt's particular Accountant was able to activate his escape pod before an attacking fighter tore his aircar to shreds but others were less fortunate.


A faint smile played across Malice's lips, "Somehow, I do not think you give two kriffs about the refugees."


It is an idealized view of the galaxy that has everyone traveling with their own personal escape pod in their pockets on the off chance some fighters will appear overhead blasting them to bits. It is sheer fantasy to further imagine that the passengers of small military craft, not to mention civilian craft, would even have time to run to an escape pod, let alone activate it, assuming the bloody thing was properly maintained and powered up to effect an escape!

What did it matter to Malice if those attackers using lasers instead of projectiles chose not to fire on the planetary defenders who 1). Had a craft with an escape pod and 2). Had activated it in time?

Still, those initial defenders of the Hutt's might as well have been fodder and the Imperial leadership sensed the attacker's contempt for the defense of Nar Shadda, such as it was.


And that is what had the Magistrate in a panic. For he answered to the Hutts. Technically, the Commodore supposed, he also answered to the Empire but the Hutts were closer and to scum, that is what counted.


The Hutt's minimally paid defenders paid for the service of protecting their interests with their lives (those that had no escape pods or those with escape pods that did not work as their ships were being the object of enemy fire and ionizing barrages) but they did not tally up to much in the way of offsetting their expense.


Through all this, the alien Magistrate babbled about Imperial Order and Imperial Protection until the Commodore pointed a finger at the projection.

"Shut up, you miserable worm!" she spat out. "For the past year and a half the various crime lords, Hutts and general scum that reside on this worthless ball of spit have hindered Colonel Vos's attempts to establish that very Order and Protection you are whimpering about now! You made your bed and now you can sleep in it!"


Another attacking craft was blown to bits but the odds of this initial defense effort clearly favored the attackers. If they wanted a message sent to the Hutt's they certainly could not have found a better way to deliver it...


Malice stopped her rant as the projection of the alien suddenly became unstable, flickering off and on before reinitializing.


"Wha--?" the Magistrate's projection bobbled as it's head moved two and fro.


What Malice and the Magistrate did not know at that moment was that the attackers had found a better way to deliver a message to the Hutts. The attacking fighters had screened a surface attack against one of the many bases that Colonel Vos had set up during his tenure. It was not exactly active at the moment as Fleet was in the transistion of taking over the sector from the Army and had yet to establish their presence but that was still a far cry of unmanned.


The massive amount of missiles used told the Imperials that the enemy wanted the base completely destroyed. They got their wish and a little bit more.


Nar Shadda was called 'Little Coruscant' for a reason.


The spire which housed the base at mid-level was blown in half and both Malice and presumably the Magistrate watched various civilian news agencies' coverage of the spire falling from it's height to the city below.


Someone whispered an obscenity at the footage superimposed now on several monitors as the spire struck the city causing several levels to cave in, smashing untold numbers beneath it's weight.


Commodore Malice's words were equally hard. "You've been throwing crap at your enemy. You know it and we know it. You tell your bosses that they have royally angered someone out there and now they will have to dig where it hurts to pull themselves out of this mess. They had better start digging..


Now!"


The alien jiggled a little, perhaps in silent indignation, and the transmission was cut.


You get what you pay for. It was a saying in economics and usually it was true. The bosses had used those soldiers they paid very little to try to stop the attackers and while they did destroy some, their inferiority began to play out and the fight became more and more one-sided. And not on the side of the defenders.


Now the Hutts and like ilk of Nar Shadda would have to use what they had, what they excelled in and what they worshipped to solve their problems...


..as it always had.



Money



You get what you pay for.



You pay crap wages, you usually have crap workers.



You pay for the best.


You usually will get the best.




'A Hutt will usually hold onto it's credits till it's last breath. Then it will spend all those credits for the breath after' or so the saying went.



The Hutts may not have been at their last breath.. in fact, the damage was relatively minor given the attacker's disposition, weaponry and tactics but they had sullied the Hutt's good name. Or rather, the good reputation they had built up over the centuries.

At least, what they thought was good, if not the textbook definition.



Malice did not care. At least they were starting to wake up and a new class of fighters and pilots took to the skies above Nar Shadda.


They were capable. Their ships were exceptional. And they were experienced freelancers.


Commodore Malice turned her thoughts to the telemetry information from the probes thinking that a ship would have to be sent to investigate once the fighter situation over Nar Shadda was dealt with.


"We are lacking the information from the last three probes.."


"Last Three?"




~



A Torch Gunship does not have sufficient gravity to produce a mass shadow that would pull anything from hyperspace. Therefore, when the vessel advanced, beyond the asteroid field's mass limit, the third to the last probe, traveling faster than light, simply ran into the ship causing a discharge of energy that sent waves into the asteroid field disrupting the paths of several in an already unpredictable system.


This energy discharge was enough to destroy the next probe that exited hyperspace (due to the mass gravity shadow of the asteroid field itself) and damage the last probe to the point of utter uselessness. In any event, shortly after that, a stray asteroid hit it smashing it to bits.


The probes were to be laid out along a particular course like a string of pearls. Now the chain was broken twenty-five light years out.


It was a rather long distance to support a fighter attack.


"Navigation, what is out there?" she asked, growing more and more curious about these attackers.

Mako Nine, Nar Shaddaa

“Target destroyed,” reported Bloodletter Leader.

Glancing at the telemetry data from the Skiprays, Rush grinned. Destroyed is an understatement. That place was demolished to the foundations. And it’s the start of our demolishment of the Empire’s foundations. Dual streams of light slammed into craft’s shields and began to chew through them. Instinctively, Rush whipped his control yoke to his left: Mako Nine careened to the port, stabilized, and immediately climbed among the planet’s sprawling, decaying skyscrapers. He quickly tapped a button, and the HUD pulled up his attacker. Anarth cringed. A StarViper. Well, the Hutts do pay for some good mercenaries and craft, apparently. And that’s something I definitely don’t want to take head-on…The criminal starfighter used its microthrusters to rapidly orient itself back at Mako Nine. It fired again, sending quad streams of laser bolts towards the crimson Hunter. The first burst nailed his shields again before Rush tapped the scramjet; his Hunter sprinted out of the bolts, which proceeded to chew into another one of the decaying buildings which dotted Nar Shaddaa. His cockpit speakers pinged twice. Really? Missiles now? I’m really not liking you now, buddy… Anarth tapped another button, activating his Bertraik sensor jammer. He banked hard to the right and was rewarded to see two concussion missiles surge past him and into a residential skyscraper. They pierced through the wall and exploded violently; gouts of flame burst out through the nearby level’s windows, and a concussion shockwave tore through the rest of the building. The tower teetered hopelessly on its several remaining structural supports, and then began to fall towards the ground, breaking apart in the process; hurling landspeeder-sized chunks of duracrete throughout the area. But Rush paid the building no attention, and instead focused on the StarViper. The two starfighters exchanged shots and attempted to evade the others; the StarViper simply by shifting from side-to-side with its microthrusters while the Hunter erratically side-slipped and rolled out of most of the shots. He tapped the trigger of his dual ion cannons, which sputtered out more cyan shots towards the StarViper. His personal comm. crackled.

“Hey hotshot, time to get out of the way.”

The StarViper spontaneously exploded like a miniature supernova. The boxy cockpit shattered, spraying glass and metal into the air while its heavily-armored wings merely dropped onto the ground traffic below. Two Kalrechis of Sunleaf Squadron soared through where the StarViper had just been. Rush’s face wrinkled into a scowl: Just because you guys have the big guns doesn’t mean you can completely steal my kill.

“I get an assist on that,” claimed the expatriate Corellian.

“Yeah sure, whatever, you can have full credit if you can keep any more of them off our backs while we make the next run…” muttered Sunleaf Seven, "but one thing, any targets of oppurtunity on the ground are ours. Tanks, military landspeeders, and what not. You got it?"

"Sure," grunted Anarth resentfully, "I don't even like groundslagging anyways..."

All around them, Inferno Fleet starfighters descended into the midst of the skyscrapers, using the buildings as cover from not only enemy weapons fire, but from enemy sensors and sight as well. Combined with the use of sensor jammers and decoys, the crimson starfighters simply disappeared off of many of the Hutt ship’s sensor boards or appeared to be where they weren’t. The Hutt starfighters dispersed, attempting to find those of Inferno Fleet. The few that did find the crimson starfighters found themselves quickly and efficiently overpowered by mass fire from the escorting Hunters and Blastboats. They approached their second target, another Imperial base set up by Wes Vos. A thousand meters from the next base, they fired.

More missiles.

More explosions.

More death.

Some lives taken rightfully, others less so.

“A little sloppy again,” reported Mako Lead, “it looks like we’ve crisped some of the civie buildings nearby the base. But hey, we haven’t much work in ground attack. We’ll better.”

Eventually…eventually we'll get better...


Bothan Assault Cruiser Armageddon’s Hammer, Askam Asteroid Belt

“Sir, one of our fighters seem to have collided with one of those drones came out of hyperspace.”

Dha’tey’s fur rippled. “What’s the status of the two craft?”

“They’re just..well…gone. The pilot is dead.”

Dha’tey simply nodded. Understandably. Starships coming out of hyperspace are coming out at incredible velocities; coming out faster than the speed of light and even of time itself. At that speed, the kinetic energy in the collision would be enough to disintegrate their craft in milliseconds. At least the pilot died painlessly, and the probot probably doesn’t even know what it hit. Better for us, I think. The Bothan cleared his throat.

“Relay a signal through the 1st Skirmish Line that all starfighters in the area should immediately abandon the rendezvous area to come to our position. If the enemy does come, we’ll be able to support each other better, and if not, we can move as a group to the Radiance Nav point.”

A deep voice rang out from the crewpit. “Death’s Jaws and her consorts have cleared the asteroid belt. Langdon is taking his group to Nav Point Radiance Three…”

“Very good, as soon as the starfighters have formed up with us, we’ll also move to Radiance Three. Nav, better get on double-checking your course.”

“Aye sir.”

Sei’lar quietly stalked up behind the Bothan commander. “The Sunfury and the Lavablast have retrieved their special cargo. I believe they’ll be ready to make the jump with us in formation.”

Kolir nodded. “Excellent. They’re large enough?”

Sei’lar’s fur rippled with pleasure. “I think they’ll be good enough for our purposes.”

“Well, we should take a glance at what our Imperial friends are doing, and find some spaceborne targets,” stated Kre’fey, turning around to the Flight Controller, “launch the Ferret, and have it set a course for the fringes of the Nar Shaddaa space traffic.”

“Aye sir.”

Several minutes passed before the Inferno Fleet starships executed their withdrawal from the system. Langdon had needled his crew and those of the Jaw's consorts in jumping into hyperspace almost immediately, out of fear of facing the Imperial fleet. When Fighter Group Two and the two special operations starships had joined up with the Hammer and her consorts, Dha’tey had given the order to make the jump to the remote deep space Radiance Three nav point. Only one Inferno Fleet starship didn’t end up at Radiance Three: the Ferret-class reconnaissance vessel Dark Flame. The said drone ship surged over to the rendezvous asteroid and surged into hyperspace; taking the same route as Fighter Group One before it. But rather than riding the jump into the moon’s gravity well, the Dark Flame exitted several planetary radiuses away from the city moon; out of its gravity well, and out of its normal space traffic lanes. There, the stealth ship began to passively record the Imperial Fleet in orbit; its numbers, disposition, formations, and locations of vessels before transmitting it via a hypercomm transciever directly to Dha’tey on the Armageddon’s Hammer.

~






What has gone on before...



It is said that if you look into the eyes of your enemy you catch a glimpse of their plans.


If that was true, Captain Malice thought, then Simon Kaine was planning...





..nothing?


The old man was right. It was damned anti-climactic!



His face, as she studied the monitor, was awash with a sort of tired defeat. The man who was once called the Conqueror of a Thousand Worlds was now an empty shell of a man.


What had transpired in the man's life to lead him to this point?


It was almost as if a fire that had burned so brightly before was now in it's last flicker of life.



And this man was my mentor?


She felt strange as her former respect for the Supreme Commander began to slip away giving ground to a growing contempt that was almost 'Bhindi Drayson' in composition.



The name 'Kaine' had been a source of some mysterious awe and fear in the galaxy for so long (and perhaps not without some justice, granted Malice) that it never thought to challenge that supposition.


Which is what she did.


Challenge the established perception.


Challenge the established fear.


Challenge the establishment period.



And her actions had paid off, for not only was Kaine ill-prepared, outgunned and out classed but now defeated.


The strength of the established order had been smashed like the trunk from a dying tree; giving off the appearance that it had stood the stead of a thousand years and that it would continue to stand so for a thousand more, only to be found hollow and rotten when a storm unleashed it's power against it.


And Malice was that storm.


Kaine's response was curt and ... to Malice, disappointing.



"Reduce speed.." came his order and the Imperators facing Malice's fleet head on slowed their charge, not that the program that should have been wandering through their systems would not have also effected the same action but hearing the order from Kaine reinforced the morale of Malice's officers and soldiers all the more.


It showed them how weak the tree really was.


Power perceived was thought by some to be power achieved.

But the perception of power, when challenged, was revealed to be illusory in nature.

For the proof of power required it to be felt.


She understood a man like Tarkin.


She did not understand a man like Kaine.



"We are prepared to receive your boarding parties.." the Supreme Commander commented and Malice mentally shook herself back to the present and as she digested the words she found that her contempt for the man had grown exponentially.



She shook her head cutting the Supreme Commander off, her eyes hard.


"No, Supreme Commander..," she almost tasted bile at the word, "this is not Grand Admiral Desaria's Fleet where I will have you sup at my Captain's Table this evening as a worthy foe and hear tales of your previous and past victories. I do not congratulate those officers and soldiers you could scrape together as a worthy foe.."


Simon Kaine's face fell at her words and his face darkened with a growing anger as her words were transmitted.


About time the man felt some ..life! A shame he could not muster any for a decent end!


Her lips curled in a contempt so obvious that she might as well have been looking at a Wookiee refuse pile.


"I will not sully my soldiers as prize crews on your ancient machines nor will I allow you transport to Imperial Center for an audience with Emperor Hyfe to plead your case and rebuild your power base! Your reign ends here and now!"


Kaine opened his mouth to offer a rebuttal perhaps but she would have none of it. "I will waste no more time with you!"


"It was fun, Kaine. While it lasted." Zell's shout rang out.


She signalled the Communication's Pit to sever the transmission and Kaine's features were replaced by a blank screen.


"Order the Left Flank to begin systematic destruction of this pathetic fleet. Right Flank to follow the flag's lead at flank speed to the planet!" she barked out her orders and the Bridge Crews flew about their business.


"Kaine's base?" Zell remarked taking a glance at the planet behind Kaine's Imperators, "I had thought that perhaps you'd forgotten about it."


Malice turned a cold eye towards the old man, "I am not one of those that goes weak at the knees at the mere mention of Simon Kaine's name, Grand Moff."


"Second Fleet moving to encircle enemy's right flanking warships," the Scanning Officer reported.


"You used too, Ground Pounder." Zell shot back, using a nickname he had given her when she was with the Imperial Army, having been conscripted years ago.


"He used to be able too.." she remarked turning her attention to the planet ahead.


"The trouble with these aging warriors in power is that they posture too much. They want to..." she waved her hand dismissively, "talk all the time."


Her gaze was unfocused for a second as if remembering something, "Perhaps they were an impressive officer in their day but they make the same mistakes all soldiers do who have outlasted their prime."


"Oh, do enlighten me," Zell asked sarcastically. "Nothing like us old fogies being taught by the babes of the fleet." The bridge crew were nervous at the old man's gall. They had heard the stories but to hear him speak so to their Captain was like spitting in the eye of your executioner before they chopped your head off. Perhaps that was the point.



Malice smirked, "And there is your problem. Old soldiers feel they have fought so much, have seen so much death, have seen so much destruction, broken ships and broken bodies that you cast this 'devil may care' attitude about. An attitude that has others, mostly us youngsters, staring at you with awe.


But it's all smoke and mirrors! You haven't fought a real war or had a real command in decades! You invested so much in this reputation of war that, now, it is all you rely on to win your battles for you!


Supreme Commander Simon Kaine thinks he can scrap the bottom of the barrel with ships and soldiers to meet me and that his reputation will have me wetting myself at the mere mention of his name?!

Simon Kaine can go to hell!

His reputation means nothing to me! I am not here to sit and treat with him. The Emperor did not send me here to treat with him!


I am here to destroy him!


And destroy him I will!"




"You are a cold, cold bitch.." Azrael Zell muttered.


Captain Malice drew nearer, her teeth baring at his remark, "Accidents happen on starships all the time...even to Grand Moff's, Grand Moff."



And in that silence, an officer announced, "Second Fleet opening fire on the enemy..."



"You'd do it, too you vicious little twat," Zell whispered.



"It's time to wipe away the old and bring in the new. Brush away the weak for the strong."



"Enemy Imperator is breaking apart..."



"It's time! Target the planet, any location, and have the fleet open fire!" she ordered.



"FINISH HIM!" she hissed and Zell drew back at her vehemence.





~




Nar Shadda - Present Day




Commodore Malice frowned at the transmissions from the two probes. An asteroid field was twenty-five light years out in deep space. It was one of many very good celestial reasons why there was no hyperlane coming into the system from that vector.

"Askam Asteroid Field, Commodore." the Navigation Officer supplied, offering an update.

The two probes had exited hyperspace prior to reaching the asteroid field and the third would have exited before it's intended plot due to the field's existence and would have reported if not destroyed immediately.

Probe Two had captured the explosion and destruction of subsequent probes and had also captured the existence of several vessels, though the type were not clear.

The ships seemed to move beyond Probe Two's passive sensor net but it dutifully recorded the close approach of smaller craft, fighters presumably, to it's location and eventually the transmissions ceased.

The enemy was very clear that they did not like observers and were doing all they could to keep it that way.

But what were they hiding?

Probe One was too far away from Probe Two's location to sense the fighters and too far to even sense the asteroid field. At it's predetermined location and having soaked up all it's sensors could gather passively, it jumped back along it's predetermined track to a point closer to the system.

The probes would not be able to detect ship's approaching in hyperspace but it would be able to detect (presumably) their exit, if close enough. There were, after all, limits to what passive sensors could achieve.


"Order the Tantamount to raise it's vector along its relative z-axis and relaunch more probes towards the field, this time, not one behind the other. I want to know just how big the field is and match it to our records."


The Imperial Fleet was on alert, which meant it was ready for battle: the capital ship's fighter screens having been launched, their shields having been raised and weapons at the ready. It was a prudent move given there were people shooting at each other on the moon behind.


Whatever the Hutts had gotten themselves into, it seemed an internal Nar Shaddan matter to Malice.


But that did not mean the fleet would be unprepared.


"Commodore, the Hutts have finally woken up."


She hid a superior smirk at the officer's surprised tone. She guessed that he did not think overgrown slugs could move fast.




Nar Shadda Aerospace



Grub and Bub were the best there were. Or so they boasted. Brothers of two mothers and three fathers (don't ask), they held an almost symbiotic relationship when flying.

That accounted for their flight time lasting longer than their counterparts which was, on average, less than fifteen minutes.


The attacking fighters were slowly being knocked out of the sky but they still seemed to be able to outfly even the mercenary jocks and perhaps that was a telling faster as to why Grub and Bub survived.


The attackers flew in patterns that were supporting rather than the mercenary-army-of-one mentality that ended their lives.

The Hutts were furious as they raged and banged against their transmitters screaming in their gutteral language of the horrors they would visit upon those defenders that did not ..well... defend.

Many a mercenary switched off their comms as they were fighting for their lives as well and in such circumstances they did better without a giant slug riding 'shotgun' on their respective shoulders or appendages.

The droid mercenaries did better as they also were calculating the course the attackers were laying, having already been witness to one major target, namely a military base.

Seeing the new heading of the attackers informed everyone that the attack was not simply a statement or a single-target action and if one target was a military base, might not the other target also be..?

Several defenders plotted an intercept course that allowed them to arrive before the presumed second target, especially since they knew Nar Shaddan skyline better than the attacking craft.

What they did not expect was the enemy to launch their missiles from a thousand meters away from the second target.

The droids cursed, with mathematical precision of course, their missed chance to get the drop on the approaching craft for the attackers broke formation attempting to get lost within the jungle of skyscrapers, towers and structures.




Military Base Primo - Established by Colonel-General Wes Vos 11 months ago


"So, you going to go out with me or what?"

"Lieutenant, we've got incoming miss....STOP THAT!"

"Oh, yeah, I got your incoming missile right here," the Officer on Watch patted his groin when a proximity alarm began to wail.

"What is that?"

"Missiles nine hundred meters and closing."

"Raise the shield," he imperiously ordered.

Several people began standing up from their stations and began to flee.

"Lieutenant, the shield generator was removed by the Army Engineering Corps last month. We were on a review list by the new Commodore to see if the base would be shut down or remain online."

"What?" the man growled glancing at the now empty seats before him, at what was a cushion job of waiting, collecting his credit chit every month and dining as many females as were still on the base (or not, for that matter).

"Seven hundred meters."

"Shoot back at them!"

"Our weapon systems were removed by the.."

"Fucking Army Corps of Engineers..." the Lieutenant blurted out for her. "Fuck," he whispered to himself.

He looked down at the woman who remained seated. "What are you still doing here?"

She tore her gaze from the approaching blips, "Five Hundred Meters." and glanced up, "What?"


"Why aren't you running your ass off?" Actually, he felt like doing that very same thing but had pulled his groin muscle a few nights before and couldn't run worth Sith Spit.


"Because those fools are not going to outrun missiles." she gestured in the direction of where everyone else had escaped.


"So... we gonna take this?" If things were going to end, he supposed he should try to think of some last minute gesture that would reflect the sum of his life.


As his mind worked the problem out, the woman smiled to herself and started to answer, "Well, I could just..." and she flipped a button causing an armoured plate to begin to slid upward over the base windows.


The Lieutenant began to giggle to himself ignoring the hum of the armoured covers. They would either work or they would not.


In any event, he had his gesture.


The woman turned towards him with a look of triumph and he wiped the sweat from his nervous hands before reaching out and squeezing her left breast.



At one hundred meters out, the Lieutenant was rolling on the ground clutching his groin after she sucker-punched him in angry indignation.


The missiles blanketed the area causing yet more explosions and more death.




Nar Shadda Aerospace


The droid mercenaries applied suitable thrust to their fighters to individually chase those ships that weaved in, through and out of buildings. The attacker's choice to move through the skyline hindered their group tactics somewhat but that is not what began to turn the tide of the fight towards the favor of the defenders.


No.


What did it was two things:


The anti-starfighter weaponry that suddenly opened up as well as the attacker's strategy to target ground-based units.


The anti-starfighter weaponry was able to extrapolate the attacker's positions using various methods, the most telling was the tracking of the solid projectile ammunition sprayed all over the Nar Shaddan sky. The composition of the ammunition required it to survive the incredible velocities of being fired at top atmospheric speeds against the friction and gravity forces within a planetary sphere allowed the weapons-fire to resemble tracers which were, of course, tracked.


The attacker's accuracy using projectiles while dodging buildings and flying at hypersonic speeds was, naturally, limited but that did not slow down the damage any.


What did slow down were the attackers themselves as they targeted ground units for to do otherwise made precision ground attacks impossible. At the incredible speeds the attackers were travelling, for the sensors to send out and bounce back detecting a tank, relay that info to the pilot and allow him to depress the trigger of his weapon of choice, he would find himself six seconds past the target. They had to slow down and when they did, Grub and Bub were there to overtake and plaster a few more.


They were especially overjoyed when a Blastboat blew apart, taking two droid mercenaries with it, the droids having tried to trap the craft in a highrise cul-de-sac which ended up in mutual destruction for everyone involved.


The attackers' fighter-to-fighter projectile ammunition was beginning to run out (as fighters could only carry so much physical ammunition within it's bowels, retain it's speed and at the rapid rate of dispensing it all added up).


All this made no difference to a furious Hutt named Ghitta. His spice smuggling ring was positioned under Primo Base and was carpet blasted to smithereens under the deluge of missiles and his throne room was covered in his seething dribble of drool and venomous spit.


His flabby arms beat uselessly against the comm channel and after a while, he sent a transmission to Plurga the Hutt.


It was time to find out who these attackers were, who had stirred them up and what they would do about it!




Several Planetary Radii away from Nar Shadda


Being so far away, passive sensors were not enough to detect what vessels were in orbit around either the moon or it's primary. However, this did not mean the stealth ship did not detect anything.

On the contrary, the sensors detected the following (moon-ward and relatively close):


Two Steadfast Class Gunships
Three Hellfire Escort Frigates
Ten or more S14's..


And, positioned behind the stealth ship farther out, a detection of two ships roughly 700 meters in size and one roughly 2,000 meters, moving away (there are smaller objects surrounding them, presumably fighters).

Few plans or tactics ever survive contact with an enemy. They either die there on the field, or they adapt to become entirely new things."
~Old Military Proverb

Hunter/i-class Starfighter Mako Nine, Nar Shaddaa Aerospace

Rush watched as his canopy was filled with swirling, almost psychedelic lights; mere minutes ago, the Lieutenant would have never thought that Nar Shaddaa with its smoggy atmosphere and towering, (mostly) gray buildings could have been so colorful. Now, playing as one of the Fleet’s ‘rabbits,’ he was inclined to change his mind. Streaks of green and red sprang above and below him in a dichromatic rainbow; ground fire from the Hutt, and probably, Imperial anti-aircraft defences. The air around his cockpit pinged melodically as one gunner accurately lashed out at the fighter with a laser cannon. Thank the maker for having shields. He tapped a button, shutting off his repulsorlift; the fighter abruptly stopped and plummeted from near the pinnacle of the tower. If Rush had bothered to glance upwards, he would have noticed the continuing gunfire attempting to track his descent. Instead, the anti-aircraft weaponry was inadvertently hitting the skyscraper instead; searing duracrete walls, breaking windows, and sometimes breaking though the decaying walls of the tenant building. Instead, the Lieutenant stared at the altitude readings of his fighter. Right about…now. He tapped the button again, and the repulsorlifts kicked in, bouncing his fighter out of its descent two hundred meters from the ground. Mako Nine surged forward again, drawing more anti-aircraft fire, just as the other Inferno ‘rabbits’ did.

With the advent of the ground-based weapons, the starfighters had adjusted their attacks. Rather than flying high up in the air, where they could easily be detected and fired upon by both enemy starfighters and groundbased weaponry alike, the bulk of the surviving Inferno starfighters had dropped to fly within a hundred meters from the ground. From that distance, the starfighters disappeared on full spectrum transceivers(radar) scopes, appearing to be part of the ground and or the civilian airspeeder traffic. Combined with the Kalrechis’ decoys and the Hunters’ sensor jammers, they appeared to be in places that they were not, and their engine signatures altogether disappeared; leading most of the opposing starfighters on wild goose chases. From those fighter’s altitude, ground based weaponry seldom detected their approach before the starfighters were flying past them. But therein lay a caveat; flying so close to the ground also blinded the starfighters’ sensors from what was coming up ahead: it was a double-blind.

As a solution, several of the Inferno starfighters had left the main formation to fly among the tops of the towers, providing sensor input and telemetry to the low-flying starfighters about the oncoming terrain, as well as providing distractionary targets for the anti-aircraft weapons. It was a demanding role, and Anarth never felt so pressed and unrewarded; how could one even attempt to fight back to take a kill when one was attempting to evade a maelstrom of gunfire and missiles? This is what it meant to be a ‘rabbit.’ Fast and fleeting, always chased; a hair’s breath from death, and to never triumph over one’s foes. No, victory to a ‘rabbit’ was simply surviving the ordeal.

The missile-warning klaxon sounded his cockpit. The expatriate Corellian hurriedly tapped a button. After a quick glance at the screen, he winced. Kriff. Missiles or torpedoes of some sort; which means the Hutts actually put some money into something, or an Imp groundpounder has me in his sight. Probably the latter. The klaxon’s volume rose, signifying that the missiles were getting dangerously close. He punched another button, activating the Screamer Jammer, and simultaneously pushed the control yoke down. As the Hunter plummeted towards the ground, the starfighter disappeared from the missiles’ sensors. The so-called smart weapons became, continued on their course, and smashed into another skyscraper. The concussion warheads ripped through the building and with its shockwave, hurled debris across the metropolis. Some of the shrapnel from the building smacked into Mako Nine, rocking the starfighter violently as its shields were assaulted. He heard the distinctive snap-crunch of metal giving way. The Corellian silently swore as he engaged the scramjet; the Hunter rocketed out of the danger zone. He quickly spared a glance at the ship’s diagnosis screen. Really? Well, having a puncture and a lose power coupling isn’t the greatest…but that’s not the worse thing ever either…



Kalrechi-class Starfighter Sunleaf Four, Nar Shaddaa Aerospace

Her comm. crackled with the distorted voice of Mako Leader.

“Watch it guys, sensor feed indicates that we’re coming up to the next Imp base, and from Mako Nine’s sensor feed, it looks like they’ve got some artillery already set up near it to take us out.”

Flight Officer Tyria Minzove spared a glance out of the canopy to glance at the building rooftops a mere twenty meters below her. The building rooftops were mostly unoccupied, and the few beings she did see quickly scattered as the Inferno Starfighters surged just over them. Her vision seemed to waver. Abruptly, she yanked herself out of the vertigo and stared back at sensor readouts. Five kilometers to go…She saw a flash of red descend towards her viewport. Tyria flashed a quick glance. Ah, so you’re back…couldn’t find any more prey, Hunter? I bet they’re going out of their minds, with nothing to shoot at. She flashed an unseen grin at the Hunter pilot. While the Kalrechis occasionally strafed at military ground vehicles with their chain ion cannons, the Hunters did not; partially because the Hunters had less ammo than the Kalrechis, but also because the guns themselves were designed to hit lighter targets. The same could not be said of the Chain Ion Cannons, whose slow-moving, almost lagging, projectiles were dangerous to the most heavily-armored tanks, but couldn’t even remotely hit a fast target in most circumstances.

“All right people, we’re in missile range; launch one salvo.”

Minzove stared forward, only seeing the horizons of buildings. All around her, the bright streaks of missiles and their steamy exhaust trails flooded her view, and disappeared as they soared over the buildings and at the enemy base. An abrupt fireball blossomed overhead. But Mako Lead only swore.

“This one has shields; the missiles didn’t go through. Throttle down to fifty percent, Makos, form up with me, we have this one.”

The elite Hunters surged ahead, their large, twin fusial thrust engines blazing like miniature suns among the dark, smoggy air of Nar Shaddaa. They had just disappeared overhead when an elaborate light show erupted with all the force of a volcano. Missiles, laser cannons, and other land-based weaponry lashed out the starfighters. Through a combination of evasive maneuvers and their sensor jammers, most of the elite Hunter pilots evaded the attacks or their shields absorbed the damage, leaving their actual ships unscathed. But one pilot wasn’t nearly as lucky; an attack pierced through his ships’ shields and turned the craft into a flying inferno. The doomed Hunter plunged towards the ground, right at the enemy ground vehicles. A smaller explosion lighted into the air with the ship’s crash. Meantime, the surviving Hunters for the first time in the conflict, launched a set of warheads. Tyria glanced at her console, noting electronic and sensor fluctuations all over craft. Magpulse warheads. Powerful to take down most ground-based electronics, blow ground-based circuits, and even cause some minor malfunctions on a shielded and heavily armed starfighter. Sunleaf leader gravelly voice emanated across the speakers.

“All right, we can go back to the old, precision targets for this one; Imp vehicles and electronics should be temporarily disabled for a few minutes.”

Tyria smiled. Thank God. Now I know for sure that I won’t be hitting any innocents. The ground attack aircraft had previously learned the hard way that precision strafing attacks were dangerous: to themselves. Mere minutes ago, Sunleaf Three had attempted a pop-up attack on a set of Imperial tanks. While heavily armored and shielded, the Kalrechi starfighter had lost the gun duel with the tanks, but not before eliminating a pair of them. That had forced the consequent strafes to be slow down for a brief second or two, fire a quick burst of bullets, and engage the scramjet to get the hell out of there. Though they couldn’t be certain of the attack’s effectiveness against the ground targets, they were certain that none of them had been killed since. These attacks had worried Tyria: misses were certain from both sides given the hit-and-fade nature of the tactics. She had seen some of her own bolts completely miss a tank and chew up a store instead. She had seen tank shells and missiles miss or deflect off the Kalrechis’ strong shields and smack into other buildings and civilian ground traffic with virulent force. Fighting in close quarters with explosives and guns meant that everyone around was going to get hurt; especially those would had not hope of moving at all.

The rooftops disappeared over her fighter to reveal a grand plaza of some sort. The first quartet of Kalrechis fired a quartet of missiles at the Imperial base, now stripped of its shields as the magpulse attack had disrupted the local power flow. The missiles hit, sending a wave of concussive force to shatter the base from the inside out. It collapsed into rumble. Tyria herself settled on a stranded military landspeeder, whose repulsorlift had been knocked out by the magpulse attack. She pulled the trigger. Four glowing streams of balls slowly wafted over to the vehicle and crashed into it, releashing their stored up kinetic and magnetic energy. A miniature chain of explosions rippled out from within the newfound dents within the vehicle’s armor. Her comm. crackled.

“All people, one more target to go. Let’s move it.”



Bothan Assault Cruiser Armageddon’s Hammer, Radiance Three Navpoint

The Inferno Warships hovered in the depths of space, even closer to Nar Shaddaa than before. It had taken more than a few different jumps to navigate not only past dangerous astronomic phenomena, but also to slip past widely used hyperlanes. On the bridge, Commodore Dha’tey and members of Inferno’s intelligence department viewed over the incoming data from starfighters, the droid reconnaissance vehicle, and through the slicing efforts of Bothan Hackers and the ship-based CURSE units. Kolir manically stared at the holo-graphic pictures of the newly discovered Stellar Enterprise warships.

“I don’t recognize those types; certainly not standard Imperial warships.”

“Well,” advised another officer, “they don’t look like anything the Hutts have been using of late. It all looks so…pristine. With the attacks by the Wandering Ones and their experiences with them, these don’t appear to be Hutt ships.”

“Unless a Hutt has recently bought them to take care of the Wandering Ones,” suggested one.

“Possible, but unlikely. These are new ships; have you ever heard of a Hutt spending more money than it can to get a job done? It’d be easier to buy a bunch of cheap, aging warships to deal with that threat, especially from the Wandering Ones…”

“Let’s not rule it out though,” advised Dha’tey, “but either way, I don’t like them. I want a CURSE unit or a hacker to get into Nar Shaddaa Traffic Control and pull up any information on the ships in the orbit. Transponders, types, and affiliation, especially of these ships.”

“Sir?”

“I don’t like fighting unknowns. They could be more powerful than what we’re prepared for, or they could belong to someone that we don’t necessarily want to fight. Let’s send the Dark Flame closer to those larger, unknown vessels, but not too close. Just enough for the EPRs to get a silhouette of the opposing ships.”

“Aye sir.”

~




What has gone on before...





In the past, Zell had weathered wars and battles walking blithely into the jaws of certain death only to come out laughing or, in his case, cursing loudly and profusely on the other side. The fires of conflict coupled with his own abrasive personality had burned away any fellow feeling he might have once been endowed with and so as he listened to Captain Malice's words it was with a natural detachment even as he made his near-obligatory foul commentary on them.


Her show of spite was nothing new in the young. Every so often, the Imperial High Command was alerted to some up and coming personality who fancied themselves the greatest thing since the Hutts got humanoids to dance for them.


They too would spit and prance themselves around much to the general annoyance to those with even a gob of sense until they fell flat on their backs (usually to their deaths) or were brushed aside by galactic events, not even worthy of a footnote.


His eyes narrowed at the Captain before him sensing a brittle piece of her that was not readily evident before. She was given a broad charge, that of destroying Simon Kaine. And everything she was doing was given to that charge.


But that was it.


She was not so much destroying Simon Kaine as much as she was simply completing her mission.


And even as he saw her clamp down on her earlier emotional outbursts as their guns began to discharge, he knew that the name of Simon Kaine had done something to her.


It was almost like a sort of guilt for so handily and easily defeating a man who was so feared and revered within the Greater Empire and Zell had not the desire to be her Father Confessor.


He had to keep her on task.


"You're too fucking far away for our weapons to do anything but fizzle out in the atmosphere, you know?" he started, moving past her threat deciding to ignore it.


If she wanted to go nuts and start killing Grand Moff's, he'd be damned if he'd face her with anything less than pure Azrael Zell...


"It doesn't matter," she replied, already having calmed down. A feat that impressed the old man despite himself. He had figured she would have threatened him more to compensate for what was very likely her guilt or fear.


She explained further, "From their perspective, they have no illusions as to what we are here for. They will see our combined weapons firing and will stir with fear the more our range closes."



"If they raise a shield?"


"Then the fleet will pummel it while we land AT-AT's and take our eradication of them to the surface. No matter how they respond, there will only be one end for them."


"Second Imperator breaking apart.." came the up-to-date report of the goings on of the secondary fleet they had left to destroy Kaine's useless warships.


Zell raised an eyebrow for as many times as he thought he might die: above a woman, under a woman, on a doomed starship, from a super weapon or with hands wrapped around an enemy's throat, he never ever thought he might die in such a way that it was calmly announced, minute by minute as it happened, by his enemies. We might as well be ordering caf from a local shop!


And he certainly never thought of Kaine dying in such a way.


He took another look at the younger Captain, casting a glance around the bridge ...where young people were scurrying about their business and began to wonder again at her words of the new replacing the old.


And smirked.


For her words, her perceptions, her very demeanor was stacked upon a foundation of so many assumptions.


It was said that assumptions made an ass of you and me. A quaint play on the word but Zell thought otherwise. Assumptions, he felt, usually only made an ass out of the one making the assumptions.


She assumed since Kaine had been easily dealt with, the planet would also follow suit.

But, in combat, things rarely followed a bad suit and his musings were soon rewarded.


"Captain, we are being jammed."


Malice turned an interested eye towards the officer giving the update. "Location?"


"We are not exactly sure, Captain. But we feel it is planet-side."


The woman Captain nodded at that and flashed a rueful smile at the Grand Moff. "It appears that we will face some spirit after all."


Walking to the Navigation Pit, she crisply ordered her advancing fleet to increase speed and the vibrations of the increased thrust was felt. Zell always felt much better when he could sense the strength of the warship he was on.


Perhaps it was simply illusory but it was comforting all the same. He wondered if any of the bridge crew felt the same way. Did they even recognize it or were they too caught up in their various duty to see the bigger picture playing out?


Perhaps that was just the purview of the one commanding or, he reflected, those with jack shit to do. A position he found himself in at this time, on this vessel.


"What would you do?" Malice suddenly asked and Zell had to pull himself from his observation of the bridge crew.


"What?" he asked, annoyed. He clearly did not like where this was going. What did she think? That he would supply her with tactics that, should they fail on the battlefield, she could report to Hyfe that the failure was his as much as it was hers?


"Oh no you don't. This cluster-fuck is your party. I want no part of how you are sending Kaine to his maker."


Malice seemed perplexed, "That really bothers you doesn't it? I would not have thought that anything would bother you."


The Grand Moff threw an angry scowl at the young Captain. "I may not like my enemies. I may call them offspring of retarded Azguards in public. I may even piss on their children before I take a blaster to their heads but make no mistake, to those enemies that are deserving, I do respect."


It was Malice's turn to show amusement. "You, Grand Moff? Respect?"


Zell waved her smile away, "I don't mean respect in the way perhaps Kaine would show to Regrad. Shit, if I didn't know any better, I'd think those two could play games together. What I mean, however, is that on the battlefield, I will have a healthy respect for those foes worthy of it. Why? Because it keeps my aging ass alive for the next fight!"


It was Malice's turn to look thoughtful, "You think Kaine deserves that respect?"


"You don't?! Woman, Simon Kaine has laid low nations. The man does not do things lightly and, remember, the man is as slippery as they get."


"But we've brushed them aside!" Malice ground out. "We are taking apart his antiquated fleet as we speak!" She turned to the observer as if for confirmation and the man nodded.

"Third Imperator breaking up."


They may not be able to speak to the half of the fleet handling the destruction of Kaine due to the jamming but they could damn well see the progress being made.


"Kaine does not come at you from the front!" Zell bit back. "Think, Captain! If he pretty much damned his life coming at you the way he did with the warships that he did, it must have been for a reason! He doesn't throw his life away on a whim!"


"He is a gambler.." Malice muttered.


"Everything he did: facing you the way he did, even if you did not treat with him, even if it costs him his life, did what to you?"


The way Zell was talking moved Malice's thoughts into overdrive. "Kaine is finished."


"Think, woman! Kaine is just a man. It is not the man, Kaine, that makes him so awed and feared but what?"


"It is what he's done." Malice said slowly.


"Exactly! If Kaine's purposes are played out successfully, who cares if the man lives or dies?" Zell then grinned, "Except maybe him on some level."


"He held our focus, he gave us the time to infiltrate his warships with our virus and ..." she frowned.


"And?" Zell prompted.


"And we split our fleet!" Malice fingers snapped.


"And we can't call them back to us because.." Zell was leading her down the "A+B = clusterfuck" equation.


"Because we are being jammed." Malice spit out.


"You were so busy being immune to the awesomeness that was Kaine that you allowed yourself to be maneuvered by the awesomeness that is Kaine towards..?"


Malice was silent.


"You mock Kaine for his choice in warships thinking them the bottom of the barrel. But, remember, Kaine has a finite set of resources. Perhaps he has the best warships he can expect to have under the circumstances."


"He spent his resources elsewhere," Malice whispered and she turned towards the planet.


"Give me a volley of missiles!" she snapped to her weapons coordinator. "Get me a line-of-sight comm to the closest ships and relay the order to the fleet."


"That will take time," Zell warned but Malice brushed aside his warning.


"We have the time. And the missiles won't be hampered by range since they are falling to the planet."


Zell followed her gaze towards the planet wondering just what they would expect as they moved closer.


"Wish I had a couple of big fucking asteriods.." he muttered.








~




Nar Shadda - Present Day




..couple of big fucking asteriods.. Zell's voice intruded into the Commodore's peace of mind as she looked over the reports of the probes.


The Commodore paced along the bridge catwalk, glancing at the various stations but lost in thought. Motioning for the Executive Officer to join her (he had stepped away allowing the Commodore her thinking space, a habit he found out quickly she desired).


"Why launch fighters from 25 light years away? And from an asteroid field, no less?"


The XO frowned. "It is rather far away for a fighter strike." He paused, "But not impossible. Supreme Commander Kaine himself launched a larger fighter strike from a much larger range striking at one of the Galactic Coalition's hidden CN worlds."

Commodore Malice nodded at the reference, "His strike is what helped push the Coalition and the Black Dragon Empire into a conflict...presumably. Of course, the way things were going, they might have gone to war anyway." Getting back on track, she continued, "Even Rogue Squadron carried out such campaigns but those were more surgical in nature. Precision strikes or investigative strikes against the warlords.

I mean, it is true, if you want you can launch fighters with hyperdrive capability 50 or 100 light years out if you wanted too. But the problem is, the farther out you go, the more weary and stressed they'll be when they reach their destination.

It's not like they could simply pop out of hyperspace in orbit. They would have to exit prior to or at the edge of a planet's mass shadow and fly in, which our attackers did here.

Flying through the Nar Shaddan skyline throughout the moon-city is not an easy task and when you are being fired upon from below, behind and from above, the fighters themselves will be running ragged.

"We should analyze the attack ..." the XO started but Malice cut him off.

"Already ordered. I won't have the results for a while but I wonder..."

The look in her eye caused the Executive Officer to call her out. "What is it?"


"I have a feeling that the analysis will show one of two things, that either the attacking fighters efficiency is either starting to drop or it is not."

The XO shook his head. "So?"

"You've never flown a starfighter have you?"

"I can't say that I have," the XO said stiffly, as if his honor were being called into question (such as it was).

"The task assigned to these ...attackers... is extraordinary. It is something you might find during wartime but not, I would think, from a simple raid. A pilot is flying at hypersonic speeds through buildings, gantrys, industrial sections, shooting at defending fighters, shooting at ground units, launching counter measures against enemy fighters.."

"They do not feel the effects of their speed.." the XO commented.

"Just because they cannot feel themselves going that fast does not mean they are not going that fast. They pass ground units in a blink of an eye, laser fire, projectile fire and missiles going every which way."


"Again," the XO frowned, "I still do not know what you are getting at."

"It is too much for a human," Malice stated flatly. "No human is that good."

"So if the analysis shows their efficiency is dropping exponentially," the XO concluded.

"Then they are human pilots. But the task given them is too much which means those that planned this are likely not human," Malice finished for him.

"And if the efficiency is not dropping.."

"Then the pilots are not human themselves," Malice answered. And then, as an after-thought more to herself, she murmured, "So, who the hell are they?"


"So, Jorell, we have an attacker that has a choice from where to launch their attack. To launch closer would give their fighters more optimum fighting conditions. To launch farther away would help give them a better chance of avoiding reprisals. But they do not do that. They pick twenty-five light years away for a reason."


"Askam Asteroid Field," Executive Officer Jorell concluded in confidence and Malice nodded, "the asteroid field."


Jorell thought that the fact explained itself. "Many pirates and smugglers use asteroid fields for their base of operations. They do that because smaller ships can dart around inside a field with less chances of being damaged than larger capital warships. The Imperial Fleet suffered extreme damage during Lord Vader's search for the Millennium Falcon inside an asteroid field so if any capital-sized warships are inside for any length of time, they have been pulverized to space garbage by now."


"So you would recommend a reconnoiter of the field?"


The XO nodded. "Wouldn't you?"


"Your premise hinges on the assumption that your enemy is stupid enough to reveal it's base of operations from it's first attack. Most illegal enterprises are smart enough to attack from locations that keep their base of operations hidden."


"So you do not think Askam is a base?"


"If an Imperial Commander desires immediate reprisals, he sends his ship or ships back along the attacking vector. Eventually, you will get to the location from where the attack originated.

That location will either be a simple waypoint or it will be slightly more significant."

"Like an ambush?"

"Like the rest of the enemy fleet. If they are smart, they will have an interdictor to ensure any reprisal vessels exit hyperspace prematurely. That surprise to the reprisal fleet would give the enemy a few more minutes to either make their escape or spring their ambush."

"You think there's an ambush at Askam?"

"I think it a possibility. If you do not have an interdictor then an asteroid field would work just as well. The probes did not discover much on their passive sensors before being destroyed so perhaps they are hiding an ambush. I feel the probe information we have now discounts that possibility but, until we receive the new scans from the Tantamount, it is still a possibility."


"So you don't think there is an ambush."

"And if there isn't, of what use is an asteroid field? If not perhaps as a supply of ammunition?"

"You think they are going to .." the XO was shocked.

"Commodore Theren Gevel perfected the art during the Dark Empire Campaign against the Outer Rim Sovereignty. And, you have to admit," she smiled, "the enemy does have a fancy for projectile weaponry.

So the question is, how do you transport an asteroid twenty-five light years to here?"


Jorell was shocked. "The enemy doesn't seem to be giving that much of a damn about collateral damage and an asteroid at Nar Shadda would cripple the Hutts for a good long while."


"Which means these enemies are worth our respect," Malice remarked, smirking at a memory.



Nar Shadda Aerospace & below


The enemy began making tactical mistakes that began to take a toll on their numbers. The added addition of anti-aircraft fire added yet another figure in an equation meant to eliminate the attackers and while the action did add to the overall equation, the result was not quite the finale that the commanding Hutts immediately expected.

But that was the fault of the Hutts and not necessarily that of the equipment or those working it.

Whatever the status of the worker and his equipment, if you expected far more than they could give, prepare not to like the results. However, such overachieving expectations were not the sole possession of the Hutts alone but there were others thinking their machines and crew could do everything at once as well.

Take, for example, the attacking craft named for a small, furry animal who did nothing but hop around, eat, crap pellets and breed like mad that would not evolve into the universe for a long long while and in a galaxy far far away. These vessels had a purpose in their sleek design to be fast and, well, chased.


And chased they were.


But some brain-trust in the enemy command structure decided to make them spotters as well for those fighters that hugged the tops of the Nar Shaddan skyline. It was their extreme closeness to the buildings that, while making them more difficult to hit by the anti-aircraft weaponry, also made the chance for fatal crashes rise considerably. Even moreso due to the fact that such closeness made the fighter's sensors blind. Therefore they needed spotters high in the sky above them but these spotters were the 'chased'.

It was a tough choice these fighters were faced with: They could continue to be the 'chased' kicking their afterburners on leaving their low-flying comrades behind to certain disaster but also attracting more of the enemy defensive weaponry or they could slow down, remain overhead calling out sensor data to their low-flying comrades making their ability to both evade the defender's weaponry from fighters above, behind and the anti-aircraft weaponry from underneath impossible.

Those that chose to run that fleeting race left the low-flying craft to their fates where some ended up crashing into structures, aircars and other things milling about in the areas that were not intended as prolonged flight paths.

Some of those speed demons that became spotters were picked off even as they continued to relay information to their low-flying brethren helping to keep them alive even as they died.

What saved what was left of the attackers was the very thing that also aided in getting them killed, namely, the heavily industrialized and polluted areas in and around the moon city. While the attackers were at a disadvantage regarding the layout of the city that they banked their lives on by flying through, they had one advantage over the defenders in that they knew where they were going...


Those that survived launched their missiles at their next target...





Nar Shadda Base Fort Newark



..only to be stopped by the fully operational shield.



It was a given that eventually, the attackers would find an enemy target that was both operational and not under the threat of the Commodore's decision to be shut down in favor of her new modus operandi and strategies.


The existence of the shield demanded respect and the attackers quickly lowered their speed to slow up the closing distance. Another round of missiles was launched.


The reduction in speed was the chance that the base-approach defenders were hoping for as they launched their elaborate light show of weaponry aimed at craft they were not really designed to shoot at.


The attackers, to survive, used the last of their defensive tricks like sensor jammers (and the like) though some were caught out and destroyed out-right.


It seemed that the commander of the attackers felt that since the fighters boasted a shield, they could take excessive amounts of damage ignoring the ship's actual powerplant capabilities. A missile does not bounce off of a fighter's shields but a missile might strike the shield at the unintentional odd angle exploding on contact or just slightly glancing away. If the missile did explode, the fighter would have been stripped of it's shields and if the missile struck the shield full on, rather than bouncing, it would have struck the fighter tearing the craft to bits whether exploding or not.


Even against other fighters, a shield on such a small craft would only protect for a few shots giving the pilot time to escape, destroy the offending fighter or see his powerplant burn out in horror as superheated light rendered them to ash.


Needless to say the enemy's fight with the defending ground units was a bloody mess and one made moreso due to the buildings that suddenly went dark. Against a smog backdrop, it was a free-for-all of death....


...for the last set of missiles launched contained magpulse warheads which played havoc with the electronics of the prepared ambush the Imperial Ground Units had set up for the approaches to Fort Newark. It was lucky that the enemy attackers had launched them prior to the ambush being sprung or none of the attackers would have survived.


Be that as it may, the luck of the attackers had run out. They had counted on the magpulse strike to affect Fort Newark in much the same way as it seemed to affect the other buildings of Nar Shadda within the blast radius.


Two things the enemy did not take into account: The first was the hostile nature of the Empire towards the Hutts and vice-versa (as seen in Wes Vos's attempts to pacify and control the criminal element that was Nar Shadda's life blood) that would invariably mean any military base the Empire would have set up would not have been dependent on the local power distribution network or the Hutts would have had their criminal armies overrun the Imperials long ago. Secondly, if the military base did tap into a local power distribution center that could be (or was as in the case of this attack) affected by an ion, magpulse or other electromagnetic attack against electronic equipment, it would not have affected the base's shields as such shields are powered by shield generators. The attackers would have had to plant feet on the ground to remove the shield threat; a tactic perfected by the Empire on Hoth and later copied by the Rebels on Endor during the Galactic Civil War.


Explosions and fallen buildings aside, Fort Newark did indeed remain intact as attested by several attacking fighters plunging into it's still operational shield.


The remaining attacking fighters moved on leaving the surviving land based units to lick their wounds.


However, there was one thing upsetting to the Hutts that the magpulse attack resulted in: The bringing down of their Traffic Control Network as the entire block went dark from fried circuitry.


Ghitta's order of the hour was firm, concise, and final:


"BLURGA GURGA SCHOK!"



Several Planetary Radii away from Nar Shadda


Some of the smaller objects detected by the enemy stealth ship disappeared under the larger 2000 meter vessel which also, several minutes later, disappeared.

What remained were the two seven hundred meter ships and as the enemy stealth craft slowly closed, they saw the lines of a fast attack cruiser in their silhouette.

However, as the enemy moved away from the planet, it's passive sensors also picked up four other ships that were not detected before as they were hidden behind the larger 2000 meter vessel that seemed to vanish. Their general size was smaller than the cruisers.

Mako Nine, Nar Shaddaa Aerospace

Well, this isn't too bad. Hell of a good thing we all took that nap on the jump here.

His craft reverberated under the impact of laser bolts, and jarred him out of his reverie. Twin streams of ruby bolts surged towards his Hunter and bathed the canopy of his fighter in crimson light. Several splashed into his reinforced rear shields, and the expatriate Corellian deftly side-slipped and ducked beneath a steady stream of air traffic. The Hutt fighter continued its pursuit, its laser firing in wild abandon. Bolts slashed into the startled civilian traffic; sheared airspeeders apart; and detonated unlucky others into minute fireballs. Ground fire lashed out at the starfighter, and Rush whipped his control yoke to his portside; the starfighter looped over the airspeeder traffic, using it as a shield against the oncoming fire.

He glanced at his viewport.

Too late.

The airspeeder’s headlights flashed into the starfighters viewport. Rush whipped up the control yoke, letting a combination of his inertial compensators, repulsorlifts, and particle shields bounce his starfighter off of the air vehicle. It was a technique taught to most of the New Republic Starfigher Corp when they had faced the Vong and their yorik-et; properly used, it could deflect off glancing blows from mostly solid objects, though it would not stop a direct hit, such as the solid shells used in many railguns or collisions with other craft. Anarth winced, watching as the wounded airspeeder, not protected by shields or inertial compensators, plummeted towards the ground, smoke trailing in its wake. The Corellian swore.

Well…better him than me…

His comlink crackled.

“Fort Newark destroyed,” reported Mako Leader.

Anarth spared a glance at his DERs. “Lead, are you positive, I have a massive DER reading at its coordinates.”

“The shields are still up,” agreed another pilot, “at least according to the telemetry.”

Lead swore. “We must have knocked out some outbuildings then. Probably nailed a guard tower then.”

“They look pretty strong to me. Theatre grade perhaps?”

“That shouldn’t have affected the magpulse strike; I mean, neither ray or particle shields protect against magnetic pulses…I mean, we all know that from our use of them on enemy starfighters…”

“It’s probably some experimental shield then,” suggested Mako lead, “but there’s more than one way to destroy a base. Rabbits, withdraw back to the main group, we’ll cover your descent.”

Rush nodded, weaved in and out of the air traffic before gliding down towards the main fighter group. He saw several flashes of light in front of the main fighter group, and noticed the two surviving Skiprays along with Mako Squadron tear apart a trio of Hutt starfighters pursuing the other surviving rabbit. The Hutt craft’s glowed red as their enemies’ mass fire began to wear down their shields. Seconds later, a fiery wave swept across the Hutt formation as laser bolts, slugs, and a handful of missiles slammed into the craft. As the last traces of the Hutt craft fluttered to the ground, Mako lead issued the next orders.

The Alliance craft milled about, coalescing into a swarm that surged towards the streets. Anarth deftly maneuvered his craft into the new formation, among the outer edges of the mass of craft. Several emerald bolts of light sprung at them from the ground, and were answered with an individual magpulse warhead; the munitions struck, and the Imperial anti-aircraft weapons fell silent. The Alliance ships continued their approach.

Three hundred meters from surface, Sunleaf squadron unleashed a salvo of missiles, but not towards any building, but at a section of an elevated road closed off for reconstruction. The warheads smashed into the partially paved walkway, unleashing a rain of duracrete chunks down below. The Alliance starfighters swarmed into the hole, and continued to blow up elevated roads and walls to continue their descent to the surface below. Rush muttered. Nar Shaddaa is definitely Little Coruscant. A city that reaches to sky by building up on urban decay hundreds of years old. Heck, at this rate, it’ll take us a half-hour to actually reach the surface; if we actually go that far. And on the Brightside, we seem to have lost the Hutts, and there shouldn’t be a lot of Imps with anti-aircraft weapons on the abandoned levels…
Several streams of light smacked into the Alliance formation. One of the Skiprays rolled over, and fired its turreted dual laser cannon at the attackers; the laser bolts promptly incinerated the squad of Ganks with their blaster rifles. I forgot about them; the lost ones, and the Evociit; they still haunt these caverns; along with the rogue criminals and those insurgent forces that had outlived their master, the cloned Snowkan. I bet there are more than a few mutuated beasts down here in this dungeon. Heck, I bet this a Imp groundpounder’s worse nightmare. His comm. crackled.

“All right troops, according to the info being transmitted to me, we have only one more stop. Mako Flight One, link your missile targeting software to mine, and fire on mark. Mark.”

A trio of concussion missiles surged through the dank darkness of the underworld, and detonated at a large durasteel pipe; the explosion briefly illuminated the caverns of this abandoned sector of Nar Shaddaa, along with the slow moving starfighters. Several bolts of light struck out of from disparate quarters from the decaying buildings. The Alliance ships made no response, and instead slipped into the sewage pipe by pairs, trios, and in rare cases, quartets. The Alliance craft flipped on their emergency lights, and bathed the tunnel in tones of amber as they flew over the leaking sewage.

“Watch it Lead!” warned one of the Mako pilots.

Rush stared ahead of them, and instantly saw the problem; a flood of sewage gushing towards them. Lead promptly fire a missile into the tunnel’s lower side, and the sewage merely poured onto the derelict buildings and streets below. The Alliance starfighters warily continued their approach and found themselves in a large chamber, which connected their pipe with several others. Several minutes later, the starfighters found themselves in small groups, working down the pipes even further. And rather suddenly, they stopped.

“Kalrechis, release your charges now…everyone else…fire on mark. Mark.”

Concussion missiles surged through the pipes…and exploded, and in the process, ripping apart the structural supports of Fort Newark partially by the explosive force of the missiles, but also via the concussive shockwaves produced by the missiles, if which case shields were present, they did not protect against. At various levels near the edge of the base, several of the Kalrechis dropped their timed seismic charges, doubly ensuring the base’s destruction, before promptly retreating with the rest of the Inferno forces back the way came. Several minutes later, the seismic charges exploded, ripping apart the surviving structural supports for Fort Newark (and any other buildings built on top or and most below the fort). Thus the fort and several buildings around it simply collapsed on top of each other and plummeted to their destruction below. In the meantime, the Inferno starfighters made their way up several levels towards the surface, and then merely halted, floating on their repulsorlifts in the endless darkness of urban decay.



Bothan Assault Cruiser Armageddon’s Hammer, deep space

“We’ve been able to relay them maps and directions through a bit of hacking and signal bouncing,” announced one of the Bothan slicers, “I think they will be fine.”

“Sir,” announced the ship’s comm. officer, “The Sunfury and the Lavablast are in position to make the jump with their special cargo.”

Dha’tey raised a furry eyebrow, “Is the special subsystem implanted?”

“Yes sir.”

“Double check that,” ordered the Commodore, “Are all of the other ships ready?”

“Yes sir,” affirmed his XO, “everyone is at their respective nav points, and all are ready to make their jumps.”

“Sunfury and Lavablast confirm the implants are in and functioning properly.”

Dha’tey nodded. “Then they are clear to make the jump, and everyone is to begin their countdown timers for their respective actions.”

“Aye sir.”



Nar Shaddaa Space

Two of the crimson-clad Torch gunships surged into realspace near the edge of the planetary system’s gravity well, each one dragging a pair of large asteroids. Behind each of the gunships trailed a squadron of Hunters. The Inferno Fleet starships spotted the Imperial group of starships, and after factoring in the effects of gravitational pull and their targets’ vectors, released their asteroids in a loose spread at the Imperial formation. As the ponderous rocks cruised towards the Imperial warships, the two gunships and their consorts wheeled about, and began their retreat out of the system.

~




What has gone on before...





Surprise.



Complete. Irrevocable. Absolute.






It was said that plans never survived contact with the enemy and the prime reason for this was surprise.


From the enemy.


From simple circumstance.





It was all the more galling when the surprise was something Captain Malice should have expected. In fact, it was something she had desired but had been given over to disappointment deluded by her confidence in her own technological superiority. And so, when faced with what she desired, she found herself ill-prepared and paralyzed with shock.


Her plan was simplicity itself. The Reign Class Star Destroyers were technological wonders and a chariot of the Gods when compared to Imperator Mark II's. The sophisticated AI and computerized equipment boasted much more automation and processing power than Kaine's antiquated warships and therefore her viral programs were sure to infiltrate and walk over the computers that commanded Kaine's weaponry and prepulsion. Her eighteen RSD's to Kaine's eighteen ISD's. On paper, spec for spec, the former Supreme Commander might as well be throwing civilians at metaphorical Dark Troopers.


So sure was she of the confrontation's finale that to believe otherwise was akin to losing all sanity and professing belief in the existence of an all-powerful God.


Such beliefs, however, do not come suddenly.


They did not come suddenly to Captain Malice.


And they certainly did not come suddenly to Tracking Officer Garrif


As he stared at his sensor scope, keeping a nominal eye on the one-sided battle taking place farther and farther behind them, his focus was on the planet getting closer and closer and the station a few paces over that kept watch over the missiles that were fired.


Therefore, when one of the Reign Class Star Destroyers went dark he totally missed it. When another went dark, he thought his scope was on the fritz and did not immediately issue an alarm.


It was not until he saw a third RSD go dark in stages that he realized with increasing numbness that something was happening and that that something would not be good for them.


"One..Two... No! Three RSD's destroyed!" he shouted in panic and he could not have caused more of a stir if he had shat out a cyclops infant and proceeded to shoot it in front of everyone.


"READ YOUR SCOPE, BOY!" shouted an irritated Grand Moff Zell from somewhere overhead and Officer Garrif swallowed as his mind began working out the interpretations of the scope readings.


"Correction," his voice wavered, half in fear and half in embarrasment, "Previous RSD's are without power." The fact that the scope still saw them (even dark) told him this. But they might as well be destroyed for all the good they'll do us!, he thought bitterly. And then his scope's information changed and the panic returned, "First Fleet is breaking up!"


Captain Malice was already moving overhead to his station as if she had already dismissed Officer Garrif's words as rubbish and wanted confirmation of this assertion.


The sensor readings did nothing but dash that assertion aside, though, as it plainly showed the group of RSD's she had left behind to rid the galaxy of Simon Kaine once and for all were scattering as if a someone had taken a hammer to a nest of flies.


How Kaine's antiquated warships had broken free of her viral programming was beyond her ability to think about now.


No, now, she had a problem.


The ships she had left behind were now outnumbered by Kaine's now active warships but would their superiority in construction, weapons and technology hold off 2-1 odds? Probably. The thought was comforting.


She must have mumbled something out loud for Zell's voice carried over the bridge. "What the fuck are you mumbling about?! Two to one odds? More like ten to one odds! No, fourteen... No! Fifteen to one odds!"


"What are you barking about old man?" Malice ground out to the Moff behind her and barked an order to her officers, "Prepare to come about!"


"Look at Kaine's formation! It is not spread out in a line like yours was!"


Truth be told, even on the most basic of scopes, Malice's fleet of RSD's looked like a string across a black field with Kaine's bunched fist threatening to smash it in the middle and split it.


But that was the illusion of sensors, scanners and scopes.


When Kaine's fist would have reached her line, her outer edges would have folded inward enclosing the Supreme Commander's fleet in an envelopment of ship-to-ship weapons fire and missile batteries, her line revealing a steel in it's backbone.


However, there had been no need for the envelopment. Her viral attack on Kaine's computer systems arrested control from him and placed it in the hands of those who sought his destruction. And so, her enemy rendered helpless, she had split her fleet voluntarily.


But Kaine had somehow gotten that control back and smashed against the line of ships left behind who had begun their targeting of the closest ISD pummelling it out of existence. But the commander of the ships she left behind could not bring all his ships to bear on one target and so they were in the midst of changing positions when the Supreme Commander struck. Kaine, in his 'bunched up' formation, could bring all the forward weapons of his Imperators to bear against the smaller line and that.. THAT.. was how they broke the line that was left behind. Fifteen Imperators firing on a single vessel would crack even the toughest nut.


The remaining Reigns reacted but it was haphazard and uncoordinated. And how could it be coordinated? Kaine's base was jamming their comms system-wide! With each ship maneuvering on it's own, even line of sight could not be achieved reliably, especially under duress of an enemy's guns and was subject to time-dilation.


But how was Kaine's fleet coordinating?


And Zell's barking suddenly took on a new meaning.


Look at his formation indeed!



Their compact formation allowed for LOS communications with multiple ships at one time for each vessel. Even the outer ships could contact at least two others for coordination purposes.


The formation should have told her that Kaine intended to jam... No! Jamming of communications was standard operating procedure for most space combat. Only when an attacker felt so confident, as she had, did they not care about such things.

But Kaine would not have known that. But he had planned for that contigency. He was ready!


No, his formation should have told her that Kaine had intended to fight all along. And fight well for he did not tip his hand during their last communication, not that she really gave him the opportunity to do so.


"So we are going to do this the hard way," she growled out but felt her heartbeat quicken.


"What are you going to do? Ignore Kaine or ignore his power-base?" Zell snapped. The Emperor had charged Malice with the destruction of Kaine and his forces. He actually, finally did it!


And Zell was content to stand on the side of the stronger but, now, that was in question and he'd be damned if he was going to die taken in with this pup of a commander by Kaine's deviousness.


Captain Malice turned a scowl his way and accused, "Why didn't you mention Kaine's formation before?!"


Oh, no this bitch just didn't...!!


Azrael Zell snapped back, "Like you would have listened with your miracle computer virus that was solving all your problems!"


Captain Malice had no recourse but to nod at that. What importance would she have given the Supreme Commander's formation if she was in control of his fleet?


Then Zell blasted her introspection to bits and brought her back to reality by demanding, "What the fuck happened to your damned miracle virus anyway!?"



That, she thought, was a very good question!



"Come about!" she ordered.



"We are closer to the planet than we are his fleet! If we obliterate his base..."



"The planet is not going anywhere, Grand Moff," she interupted. "If we focus on Kaine's base by sacrificing our other ships to him, then he stands a good chance of getting away to rebuild another power base and we are right back where we started. Only this time, the Emperor will be sending someone else since you and I would be safely executed for our first failure. No, we deal with Kaine now! Fast and decisive and then his base!"



Zell nodded clearly not liking her implication that he would be complicit in any failure of hers.



"Not a bad strategy," he finally relented.



Her fleet began to slow and turn around.




Anger smoldered inside her.




It was surprise.



Complete. Irrevocable. Absolute.





From the enemy.







~




Nar Shaddaa - Present Day



Broadsword Necropolis, Flag - Stationed between Nal Hutta and it's moon, Nar Shaddaa

Desperate for resources and dependent on hit-and-run tactics, the Rebel Alliance installed rudimentary hyperdrive systems into many of its starfighter designs. The jump capabilities of these ships were limited. In most cases there was no onboard navicomputer and the only possible destinations were a small handful of pre-calculated jumps loaded into the memory of an astromech droid mounted behind the pilot. Consumables including air and fuel are extremely limited for these vessels, so only short hyperspace hops are possible in a starfighter without resort to hibernation, Jedi trances or other unorthodox and uncomfortable measures.

- Technical Commentary on the First Galactic Civil War

There is something to be said for a complete fighter construction. A solid frame with engine, weapons and electronics all set in sync. Even then, a fighter is a tenuous object at best and it is made even more so by those that allow cold, hard necessity and/or desperation to influence it's design.


The enemy that had attacked the Hutts on Nar Shaddaa revealed such a design.



"Modular," murmured the XO as he walked up with a report from the ship investigating those fighters destroyed between their exit from hyperspace and their arrival in the upper atmosphere of the moon. He handed it to the Commodore, "Initial analysis shows these craft to be a hodgepodge of various other starfighter components. The fact that the attacking craft look identical to each other..."


"Reveals that they use the same source parts for their ships," the Commodore finished for him. "As you say, modular."


She shrugged handing back the XO's report, "They would be task specific craft but there are advantages with such things. Presuming you are willing to pay the price in lives. These ships are not conducive to a long life."



She could not have been more right. As mentioned before, just because you can slap a hyperdrive on a fighter does not always necessarily mean you should. And just because you can slap a hyperdrive on a fighter than is easily and cheaply put together on the fly definitely does not mean you should.


But they work.


Mostly.


Unfortunately, the good folks in the Underground Alliance Engineering Corporation, LLC (limited liability corporation) seemed to forget one small (or large) thing when it came to pulling parts off of the older hyperdrive-toting fighter vessels to create their own hybrid.



The existence of astromechs.



Which, in itself was fine. As long as your operations were limited to short range actions.



But every organization has those who consider themselves forward, outside-of-the-box thinkers when, in reality, they are ambitious over-achievers. Those who think they can get blood out of a turnip. Those who want the cake and to eat it as well. Those who think they can make a Star Destroyer dance on it's end and jump through the eye of a needle.

Hell of a good thing we all took that nap on the jump here.

- Mako 9, thoughts..

It's one thing to be daring.


It's another to be stupid.



Mako 9 may have enjoyed his in-flight nap, but he missed the fact that you do not have a fighter craft cobbled quickly and cheaply from older fighter parts flying though hyperspace without (at least) an astromech droid watching your back. Or better yet, flying the damned ship while you are asleep!



Not without taking serious damage.



Out of the forty-eight Hunter Fighters that were sent out, eight did not arrive with Mako 9 on Nar Shaddaa. Out of the twenty Kalrechi fighters, two did not make it though they fared better because the larger the fighter, the more systems it could contain and so it's navicomputer could contain about two jumps. It was their modular designed being rattled around in hyperspace that was it's eventual undoing. The even larger Skipray's fared the best being of solid construction and holding 4 jump points in it's navicomputer.



This, of course, did not really constitute a surprise for the attackers. Simply the cost of doing business against the ledger of this attack.



And the attackers were willing to pay the butcher's bill.




And pay they did.






Mako 9


Of course, there is no accounting for dumb luck. Just because a solid-state New Republic fighter, in space, could take a glancing strike from a living organism did not immediately equate the same tactic would be a great fit against non-living or inert materials, let alone in a gravity environment.


That his nine meter craft could survive a glancing hit from anything, let alone an aircar, was nothing short of miraculous.






Nar Shadda Base Fort Newark




The fighters seemed confused that the base was still standing and that the shields were still operational. Perhaps being harried as they were by the mercenary defenders, they really did not stop to think that the blast radius of a mag-pulse warhead was actually smaller than a military base's shield generator's field radius.


When the initial missiles that detected the military base's shields were fired, all the attacking fighters could see was a horizon of buildings. When their fired missiles reached that horizon they were stopped by Newark's shield. And so, logically, they slowed to avoid slamming into the powerful field and being crushed as the horizon was rushing up to them. Killing their advance by fify percent, the enemy found themselves set upon by Imperial ground units while they prepared their magpulse strike.


Working through stress, exhaustion and desperation, the enemy was able to launch magpulse missiles at that horizon of buildings.


There was no reason to think that the base would not be affected by the blast radius of the magpulse missiles fired based upon what they could 'see'. However, the closer they got to that rooftop horizon and the military base, they found a great space separating the buildings that the Imperial ground units used to ambush, the buildings and rooftop horizon that the magpulse attacks had been directed and Fort Newark.


The enemy would come to describe it as a "Grand Plaza" of some sort.


What did it matter if a magpulse could pass through particle or ray shields if the shield generator was casting a field at a far greater ranger, covering a far greater distance?


There was no secret or experimental shield. Just a fact that is readily more evident in hindsight than when a person is neck-deep in an aerial dogfight, being shot at from every direction and being directed by an over-achieving leadership.



It was surprise.



Complete. Irrevocable. Absolute.



From circumstance.



*


Colonel Weer scrolled the list of damaged taken by his ground units and cursed the Hutt mercenaries' presence. Even if unintentional, it was intefering and his scanners and scopes were busy tracking them as much as they were trying to track the attackers leading to understandable confusion.


So far, if the enemy seemed to disappear in the weaving in and out of traffic, the skyline and the like, you just follow the trail of damages until you find them again.


This time it was different.


The enemy had disappeared and no more further damage either away from the base or elsewhere was being noted or broadcasted on the civilian channels. They had not yet established communications with Primo yet but with all the interference and damage between them, it was not exactly surprising. Both had better things to do than talk right now and as he turned his attention to the report of those involved in the aborted ambush, he cursed again.


The active shield around Newark had surprised the attackers and slowed them enough to spring his trap but the complete destruction of the attackers had eluded him.


Again, he blamed the poor performance of his people on the Hutt's meddling mercs... No!


"Dammit!" he growled out. Those tiny, surviving advance fighters (Hunters) had sprung a trap of their own when they revealed their missile compliment to be comprised of magpulse warheads. Their deployment opened up huge gaps in the trap he had set as ground unit's electronic equipment either went down completely or was disabled long enough to prevent the attacker's complete and bloody destruction.


They had taken down more fighters but it was not the total and complete victory that he wanted to parade in front of the Commodore up above.


Unfortunately, he would never be able to conclusively answer just where the attacking fighters had gone.


*


If the attacking fighters had used the reprieve to take stock and either get away or move on to a less protected target even, they might have remained alive.



But every organization has those who consider themselves forward, outside-of-the-box thinkers when, in reality, they are ambitious over-achievers. Those who think they can get blood out of a turnip. Those who want the cake and to eat it as well. Those who think they can make a Star Destroyer dance on it's end and jump through the eye of a needle.


In the case of the fighter attack against Nar Shaddaa, it was probably overly ambitious of the mission planner to expect the force that had been deployed to attack and destroy three or four completely different military targets. Damage, perhaps. Especially if they utilized their advantages of speed and countermeasures to effect hit-and-run attacks and flee before the coalescence of their enemy's defense.


It is unreasonable to expect the mission commander or planner to demand that every military base targeted and attacked was to be destroyed completely. The Empire was not the only organization to have a monopoly of unreasonable commanders and planners and perhaps that was entirely the case with this attack.


Or, perhaps, in a fit of anger and/or pride, the flight commander in the field and on the scene changed the mission planner/commander's operational guidelines. Perhaps they were unwilling to allow the Imperial base to remain behind untouched or intact and continue on to another target. In any event, the operational plan had suddenly been pitched out of the cockpit and whoever was leading the attackers was now starting to make it up as they went along.



Whatever the case, as anyone with combat experience can tell you, making shit up as you go is a real good way to get dead. Even moreso when this planning takes the form of split-second decision making.


It is assumed that a missile or salvo of missiles can open duracrete enough or make a hole large enough (or a clean hole large enough) for a 14 meter blastboat or smaller craft to safely pass through without damage. How many missiles is a salvo?


But no matter. Split decision. No time to consider.


Fire!


A hole was made and the remaining attackers entered.


Fire!

Fire!

Fire!


It was done again and again until they reached the surface, some 300 meters down, taking care to shoot at the indigenous lifeforms that had made their homes within the subterranean dwelling of Nar Shaddaa.


Evidently, the attackers hated everything about Nar Shaddaa.


But no matter. For the attackers had arrived at a sewage pipe.


And no ordinary pipe for the attackers had slipped inside in pairs, trios and a quartet. Therefore, two things were readily evident:


1. The pipe was a mother of a pipe. And why not? When civil systems had to carry the combined wastes of 60-70+ billion beings of different species, the bigger the better!


2. The attackers had at least nine fighters left. While people may argue the actual number, it is, ultimately, immaterial.




For our intrepid, outside-the-box thinking and over-achieving attackers were faced with something far more serious and immediate: A wall of sewage coming towards them!



Not just any wall but a large wall. The kind of wall of sewage that requires a pipe large enough to house fighters in pairs, trios and quartets and therefore a wall that would smash through the attackers and scatter their modular parts like so many broken pencils.




But again...




No matter. Split decision. No time to consider.



Rush stared ahead of them, and instantly saw the problem; a flood of sewage gushing towards them. Lead promptly fire a missile into the tunnel’s lower side...



Unfortunately, Rush was in a Hunter. And the Hunters were armed with magpulse missiles. So when the missile hit the tunnel's lower side, the pulse overtook the slow moving starfighters in less than a second (especially since they were moving towards it) and they became dead weight falling to the pipe floor before the force of the sewage wall dashed the dead craft to pieces.


Needless to say,



It was surprise.



Complete. Irrevocable. Absolute.



From circumstance.



*



Several Planetary Radii away from Nar Shadda


Some of the smaller objects detected by the enemy stealth ship disappeared under the larger 2000 meter vessel which also, several minutes later, disappeared.


Askam Asteroid Belt


The ISD Tantamount exited hyperspace outside the belt following the successful deployment of the probes on a higher vector. Unfortunately, there did not seem to be anything or anyone there but debris and rocks. Two squadrons of TIE fighters were launched to begin an investigation.



*



Several Planetary Radii away from Nar Shaddaa


What remained were the two seven hundred meter ships and as the enemy stealth craft slowly closed, they saw the lines of a fast attack cruiser in their silhouette.


The stealth craft was still approaching and passive sensors identified the ships as Illustrious Fast Attack Cruisers.



The four other ships farther out seemed to be 300 meters each.



*



Nar Shaddaa Space

"So the question is, how do you transport an asteroid twenty-five light years to here?"

Two of the crimson-clad Torch gunships surged into realspace near the edge of the planetary system’s gravity well, each one dragging a pair of large asteroids. Behind each of the gunships trailed a squadron of Hunters...



A starship slows from extreme speeds through the use of necessary mechanics to provide an opposing force to its gathered inertia. Unfortunately, asteroids (or rocks) have no such mechanics (or decelerating mechanism) and so, a rock moving at the speed of light (or beyond) tends to continue that way even if the starship in front of it slows down. An object in motion tends to stay in motion and all of that.


The Torch gunships may have pulled (either through the use of a tractor beam or a physical connection) their respective asteriods across the lightspeed threshold but, upon reaching it, they were no longer "dragging" the asteroid.


In a blink of an eye, both Torch gunships were instantly vaporized as they exited hyperspace. The resulting explosion from the destruction of the gunships and the release of the asteroid's kinetic energy was the environment the two squadrons of Hunters exited into. No one survived.



It was surprise.



Complete. Irrevocable. Absolute.



From spacial physics, this time.