<font color=006600>The Fleet moved. Across space, across time; and yet, not so. Unimaginable distances were passing in seconds beneath a ship so mighty that even the spoken name would drive fear into the hearts of it’s enemies. The Fleet moved, the Venerator Command Destroyer at its head, but they did not travel through normal space. Time still existed here, but in the expanse of hyperspace, nothing much else did.

This was more than obvious to Captain Tulok, standing at his place behind the Admiral’s chair and gazing out the Pandemonium II’s main viewport. The mottled wormhole of hyperspace stared back at him, the dark “eye” at it’s centre void of all knowing. Tulok shuddered, and turned away from the scene.

A strange stillness hung over the bridge, Tulok noticed as he paraded down it’s length. Only the slightest conversation could be heard above the background noise the “P2” provided. Tulok thought that that was probably one of the reasons.

“P2”. Even now, after a hefty two months full on training, the crew were finding it hard to adapt to their new ship. Imperial R&D’s latest toy, now being systematically unleashed on the Navy. It was the closest thing most of this crew would get to an ESD, and that was probably what was scaring them. They’d been transferred, with the Admiral and his Captain, from the old Allegiance-class Pandemonium for the sole reason that they had experience dealing with larger-than-life starships.

But the “P2” was over three times the size of the massive Allegiance Super Star Destroyer, and boasted far better weaponry, shields, and conveniences. But the men were still on edge.

<font color=808080>This is their first time in a real combat situation, on a new ship. It might’ve helped if there weren’t so many Flag’s hanging around...<font color=006600>

Tulok turned from his inspection down the bridge; which took longer than it used to, on the Pandemonium; and glanced up at the twin command chairs. Only one, Admiral Osiaric’s, was being used. The temporary chair that had been hastily erected for the use of General Ming was still empty.

Tulok didn’t know where the General was, but he was in the least relieved that the man wasn’t here. <font color=808080>Probably still down in the hangars, inspecting his Army.<font color=006600> Tulok only slightly resented having the detachment on board his ship, as he knew there was nothing he could do about it. It was only a small portion of Ming’s total force, as the rest were on advance ships which would be easier to drop from, but he still didn’t like the idea of having them on board. They’d joined the Fleet at Carida, and had been with them for over a fortnight.

This didn’t even begin to compare, however with the new allies the New Order had found in the Jutraalians. The former Rogue Empire and the true Empire were now working alongside, and it was hard for Tulok to forget the betrayal and subsequent wars of the past. Even though it had been some time since Tulok had last faced a Jutraalian in battle, the resentment and hate was still there. Every time he thought of them, anger boiled up inside at the cost they had put on the New Order, and the pain and suffering they had placed on innocent Imperial citizens.

But then again, it seemed to be for the best that they were allying with them now. Osiaric and Ming seemed pretty calm about it, although that could just have been the years of training they’d had in politics. Both showed their age by the lines on their faces, and the grey wisps in their hair.

But then Lieutenant Lithium was at his side, a progress report in his hand, and Tulok’s thought process was interrupted. He skimmed it briefly, then went forward to hand it to Osiaric.


<font color=ffffff>***<font color=808080>


“All hands, brace for re-entry!”

<font color=006600>A shudder went through the ship, and then they were out. No glamour. No fancy display. Just a brute show of force.

Ming was back on the bridge, and the background chatter had increased substantially, now that New Alderaan was in the main viewport instead of a hyperspace tunnel.<font color=808080>

“Launch all Devils, and concentrate all shield energy to the fore,” <font color=006600>Osiaric’s voice boomed out over the bridge, easily dwarfing all other sound. <font color=808080>“Battle Group Four, Shrouds M-452 through seven, advance and scout by pairs. Command Group fall back, Battle Group Two forward. Scout Fires forward, Rear Guard to deploy Abolishers and Constrainer Pickets in Gamma Seventeen formation, activated.”<font color=006600>

As the Admiral’s orders were carried out, the Fleet moved on towards New Alderaan.
</font>

Yaga Minor

He couldn't rightly say it was fear that drove the current state of emotions of mind, he had left that all behind ever so long ago, at the Battle of Sluis Van. No, it was far from that. Nor was it excitement, for the man was never excited about death.

Rather it was more of a question of how.

The question seemed to frustrate him and was backed up by its brother.

Why?

He knew that the Galactic Defense Initiative had violated several no fly zones, he knew that the Galactic Defense Initiative had harbored the attempted assassin of the emperor, he knew the Galactic Defense Initiative had been asking for this war for so long.

But why here? And how did he come to do get this honor?

He, like the rest of the Jutraalian Empire, wanted nothing more than to be the first one charging the lines of the invasion of New Alderaan, to be the first one to pull the trigger and take down those @#%$ who had done so much to defile the Jutraalian way of life.

Therefore it was an honor to be capturing New Alderaan.

Then there was the question of why. Why had Emperor Fearsons asked to come directly here? Why had he chosen to be leading the battle here?

If this were the end of the war he would surely understand, but this was merely the beginning.

Perhaps the emperor wanted to make a severe impact on the war? To let the Initiative know that this was the end, that they were tired of it? A sign of the Jutraalian emperor coming in riding such a massive fleet and army to destroy the very backbone of the Galactic Defense Initiative before they had a chance to strike was a beautiful morale detonator in all forms and senses.

It was a two fold manuever actually.

Oh how the Jutraalians would rejoice at seeing the emperor manning the helm of his own fleet, leading the charge of his own army.

For the Galactic Defense Initiative however...

They did not seem to realize unfortunately that war was faught between armies, on battlefields, on the front, not over holovids and within civilian lives. They did not seem to realize that civilians were not part of the main conflict and therefore you do not use them as such.

Politics start and end wars, they don't fight them.

Why as this so hard for Isstal to understand?

It as of no matter, Emperor Fearsons would surely put him in his place, no?

As he thought of that person, he looked back with a slight smile at the sight of him. He sat at his throne, a holoprojector in front of him so that he might appear before his conclave, PeFauna flanking him.

Surrounding him was a holographic image of Jutraalian officials in the well known-semi transparent blue. He even had a mallet that he would slam against a false table.

The Jutraalian Empire had long been known for having the best holo-technology in the galaxy.

The meeting was adjourned moments later, and the holovids faded out. What General Daringer wouldn't have given to see the looks on their faces as the entire group about Fearsons simply faded out.

"Time to re-entry?" Fearsons asked calmly, easing back into his throne more comfortably now that he was not at a business meeting.

The helmsman snapped to attention, bowed and stepped to his side.

"My lord we shall drop out of hyperspace in three minutes, as will our escorts," the brisk officer from Despayre itself offered.

The half-alien emperor nodded and squeezed gently against the arms of his chairs. It was almost time.





As the entire fleet began to flow out of hyperspace nearly exactly the same time as the Imperial officers had, they began moving into position in such a way that would cause even the New Republic to envy even at its greatest time.

This was Emperor Fearsons's personal fleet. He commanded it, he built it, he was going to lead it.

Taking the helm was the enormous, one of a kind form of the constantly modified Jutraalian-Class Star Destroyer Disruptor. It was the only one of its type and started as his Imperial-Class Mark II Star Destroyer during his time serving the late Emperor Palpatine.

He had disappeared with it.

Returned nearly a generation later with it.

And took command of Despayre weeks later.

It was only a good two kilometers when he first returned with it, but with years of time on dry dock such modifications had been added to put it at its current and final length of five thousand meters.

It looked like a cross between an Eclipse and an Executor Star Destroyer, with the thousands of compartments and almost city-like view along the main hull, the oddly shaped bridge and fore, and the hundreds of weapons emplacements.

Where it lacked somewhere it made up elsewhere.

This made up the terror of the Jutraalian Empire, the one ship that had never been bested in all the years of service of the empire, winner of dozens upon dozens of battles.

Where the Disruptor was there was a victory.

It let out a muted scream from as it pryed from hyperspace a few dozen klicks out from the Imperial fleet, the two dropping from hyperspace at nearly exactly the same instant.

The enormous First Fleet followed.





The sight of the First Fleet had rarely been viewed by any in its full form. Those that did view its full form either rejoiced or soiled their pants instantaneously.

This was how the emperor had wanted it. The fleet was a marvel in design, there were no flaws in it. All ships were the very backbone of war. If one were to ask a Jutraalian admiral, "What example can you give of something in the galaxy that most clearly describes war," and they would be swift to respond, "Why the First Fleet of the Jutraalian Navy!"

And with this Emperor Fearsons had brought a little present too. The Galactic Defense Initiative, hell even the Imperial Intelligence had no information on it. They had heard the name before in combat situations such as the heroic Battle of Halowan, or the third Battle of Sluis Van.

The Victory-Class Star Destroyer Red Dog.

Emperor Fearsons prayed he would not have to resort to using the weapon, but if need be he had no qualms with finally doing so after only two uses.

"Launch fighters, move into careful diamond formation, prepare for battle," Fearsons ordered, "we're going to knock out fleet defenses before deploying ground troops. This is it."

<font color=006600>New Alderaan loomed in the sky ahead, already much larger than it had been when the fleets had first entered the system. From his luxurious chair on the P II’s bridge, General Ming had a commanding view of the space ahead, and a detailed tactical readout of the battle fleets that were moving into position.

Admiral Osiaric sat beside him, and Ming noted that the Naval chair was slightly elevated above his own; an obvious show of force on the Admiral’s part. Ming let it pass, resolving to deal with the situation, however small, at a later date. Now, at the forefront of a major military engagement, was hardly the time for petty branch rivalries.

Ming turned his lined face back toward the readout set into his leather armrest. It was two-dimensional, which was how he liked it, but he knew that this was a vastly less than adequate way to look at a 3D battlefield.

He located the P II on the display, then traced his finger on a diagonal line towards the nearest ship, a Reign Destroyer. Looking up and out the main viewport he saw it easily, gliding along a half dozen hundred metres in front of the massive VCD. As he watched, the Reign continued it’s accelerated flight away from the P II, and moved away to be lost in the mass of ships that made up Osiaric’s Second Battle Group, ‘Sent 3:1:2’.

His display identified it as the Cable, and as he watched a second Reign, assigned to the First Battle Group, moved up to take it’s place. This one was the Shaft. As it made a leisurely path across the expanse of space to reach the position assumed as an escort to a VCD, Ming noticed with some alarm that it was rapidly closing on a lone Carrack. The smaller ship wasn’t showing any signs of reacting to this oncoming threat. Looking up out of the viewport, however, Ming saw that there was in fact nothing obscuring the Reign’s path. Where there had been black space before, there was black space still.

Grunting disapproval under his breath, Ming tapped in a combination on the keypad he rested his left hand on, and the display rose up out of the armrest and turned into a three dimensional block, showing the immediate space around the P II. <font color=808080>

“It’s below us,” <font color=006600>Osiaric stated blandly from Ming’s side, typing in a combination on his own pad that brought the bridge holoprojectors online, and filled the space in front of the pair of chairs with a moving map of the outside world. The Carrack was, indeed, over a kilometre below them. <font color=808080>“Not feeling too sharp today, General?”<font color=006600> Now his tone was slightly mocking, but there was a hint of playfulness in it. Ming decided not to humour his Naval counterpart, however.<font color=808080>

“I’ve spent the last week and a half simming with the men in a fairly 2D environment, Admiral. Just because I’m accustomed to some habits that would save lives in my field, doesn’t make me any less ‘sharp’.”<font color=006600> Osiaric had a habit of treating his superiors like gods, his counterparts like equals, and his subordinates like playthings, which could be done away with as he wished. Judging from the Admiral’s statement, behaviour, and his more than obvious trick with the chairs, Ming could only assume he had lost stature in the Admiral’s eyes since their last meeting. How, he couldn’t guess, but the General knew he had to both put Osiaric in his place and remain on his good side, without making anything too obvious.

It was bad enough that he had to deal in tandem with Fearsons and Osiaric, but it was something that couldn’t be helped at this time. Yet another thing for the General to think about, on top of all the others that weighed down his mind.

Fearsons’ presence was a simple necessity, if a burden, for the Imperial task force. Although he had only minimal knowledge on space battle, Ming was certain that the Empire could win this day without the Jutraalian’s help. And it was now even more serious than that, as the General suspected his role in this battle had just been severely demoted.

As good as Imperial Intelligence was, they hadn’t given Ming any information on the status of the Red Dog. Now that Fearsons had decided to bring along one of his most powerful bioweapons, Ming felt it too great a risk to take down his own force to the ground. Although in an alliance with the Jutraalians now, Ming still didn’t trust them not to make use of the Victory Destroyer and lay waste to his Army.

Fearsons had made contact with the P II when he first arrived, if only to establish preliminaries and for the sake of common courtesy. Ming didn’t think much of the man, and decided that if Fearsons wanted to send his own Army down there without the aide of the Imperials, he wouldn’t stand in his way.<font color=808080>

“We have preliminary scans of the system, I assume,” <font color=006600>Ming said after several moments of silence. His last statement had left an awkward silence, in which Osiaric had simply smiled and started punching some numbers. <font color=808080>

“Yes, we have some preliminary scans.”<font color=006600> Osiaric punched a few buttons on his keypad, and Ming’s personal display of the fleet was replaced with a wider view of the space surrounding New Alderaan. There didn’t appear to be anything especially formidable in the way of defence. <font color=808080>“A dozen or so space platforms, and a shield of some type. Gencore II, by the looks of it,” <font color=006600>Osiaric pointed out the energy readings that had started coming off the planet a few minutes ago. <font color=808080>“Looks like they only just activated their shield. Must have caught on to the fact that we’ve got our weapons charged and haven’t offered a greeting yet.”<font color=006600>

At that moment, a cry went up from one of the comm. stations, and a voice instantly came through on Osiaric and Ming’s armrest communicators. The voice was experienced but panicked, and spoke in a rush.<font color=808080>

“Admiral, crewman comm. station twelve. I’ve got an odd report coming in from one of the scouting Shrouds, she wants to talk to you.”

“Put him through,” <font color=006600>Osiaric commanded, obviously frustrated by the interruption but eager for any news that his advance scouts could provide. The middle aged male voice was replaced almost instantly by a female one, who seemed used to command, and made her report as soon as the line was open.<font color=808080>

“Admiral, this is Captain Sherkov, Shroud M-452. We have detected an anomaly that you may be interested in.” <font color=006600>The way Sherkov spoke, Ming suspected she would have told the Admiral about her crew’s findings, even if he didn’t want to know. Luckily, that theory was not put to the test.<font color=808080>

“Go ahead, Captain.”

“Admiral, we were scouting, as ordered, when several of the space stations orbiting New Alderaan disappeared from our scanners.”

“Disappeared? A cloaking device?”

“That is what we suspect, Admiral. I have communicated with the other Shrouds, and they confirm this; it is not a sensor malfunction. I am transmitting the information to you now, Admiral.”<font color=006600> As Sherkov finished her report a small LED began blinking on Osiaric’s panel, and casually flicking a switch he brought up a large display of New Alderaan on the main holoprojector. While the men watched, yet another station winked out of existence, as if being caught by the Imperials watching and running to hide in fear. Off to the side, Ming could already see some men working to figure out what class of space station was out there, what they were up against. Osiaric left the display on as he continued his conversation with Sherkov. <font color=808080>

“Tell me, Captain, how many of these stations did you at first record orbiting the planet?”

“Twelve, Admiral. Spaced at even intervals around the sphere, orbiting at a constant speed. Six on our side, six on the other side. I should note that it appears that the ones on the far side would take a considerable amount of time to adjust position and come onto our side of the planet.” <font color=006600>Sherkov seemed certain, and Ming didn’t doubt her in this. <font color=808080>

“Captain,”<font color=006600> Osiaric continued, <font color=808080>“do you have any idea why these space stations would be cloaking? As far as I see it, it does them no good. It would be impossible to accurately fire any weapons at us, as they would be cut off from their targeting systems, and they would not be able to escape under cloak, unless towed. Do you have any idea why they would do this?”<font color=006600>

Sherkov’s was hesitant with her answer, as if she knew the fact would displease her Admiral. <font color=808080>“We do have... some idea, Admiral. Before the satellites started cloaking, we were able to do a quick scan of their basic systems. They are equipped with EMP generators, Admiral.”

EMP? Oh, no...

“EMP, Captain? I didn’t know that the GDI were delving into such technology. How powerful do you estimate the device is?”<font color=006600> Osiaric asked, before reaching over and punching in a combination on his keypad that brought up the scans from the Shroud on his personal viewer. <font color=808080>

“Extremely powerful, Admiral. From what we gathered, it could stretch to the edge of the system, although by then it’s effects would be greatly reduced.”

“So they have a powerful EMP device, hmm. Yes, I could see why they’d want to cloak that...”<font color=006600>

The EMP. Ming had heard about it dozens of times, although he didn’t know that GDI was employing them. Apparently, Intel was running slack in this department, as well, judging by the surprised look Osiaric had pasted on his face. <font color=808080>We should have known they were here. We should have come more prepared.<font color=006600>

Ming remembered the training he’d had, and had taught to others, on EMPs. He was unsure whether this type could penetrate the atmosphere; but if it could, it would spell certain disaster for his ground troops. EMPs were the bane of the Army, as it was an enemy in orbit that they couldn’t hit, but which could knock them out with a single blow. It would knock their adversaries back as well, but it still hit hard, if you had to defend an AT-AT that couldn’t defend itself.<font color=808080>

“I think a change in plan is needed here, Captain,” <font color=006600>Osiaric said, bringing up a holo of the EMP device on the main holoprojector. He looked at it for a moment, and then a light shone in his eye, and Ming guessed he had thought of or simply remembered a contingency plan for this situation.<font color=808080>

“Refresh my memory, Captain, how exactly do your Shrouds communicate?”<font color=006600>

Sherkov didn’t answer for a second, as if she was surprised by the question. After a second, her voice came back. <font color=808080>“Direct line of sight laser communication, Admiral.”

“Ah, good.”<font color=006600> Osiaric smiled, then sat up straight and began issuing orders.<font color=808080> “Move the Shaft to the First Battle Group. Reigns to the fore and accelerate to maximum speed.” <font color=006600>He glanced at the display, halving it between a close up of the Legion and a wide view of New Alderaan with the flick of a switch. <font color=808080>“Shrouds M-459, 60 and 61 are to advance beyond the attack group, but not too far. No more than two kilometres.” <font color=006600>Small dots began to move on the holodisplay as Osiaric spoke. <font color=808080>

“They are to spread to become the points of an equilateral triangle, with two kilometres in between each Shroud. Attack Spheres up to the front, recall all but fifty Devils from each. Have the Devils fix priority on active scanning for communication lasers, and lock on to the trajectory. All other ships are to do the same.” <font color=006600>As he said this, Ming began to understand Osiaric’s plan. It was a simple one, but one that was guaranteed to succeed, due to it’s simplicity.<font color=808080>

“Now, Shrouds M-452 through 8 are to form up in a line parallel to the Legion, and advance to New Alderaan at full speed. Shrouds M-459 through 61, begin broadcasting on all frequencies, using laser communication devices, in the direction of New Alderaan. Broadcast static, but tag it with your ship code. Now,”<font color=006600> he smiled again, like a gleeful child waiting for a present, <font color=808080>“we wait.”<font color=006600>

Ming didn’t doubt the solidity of the plan, although he was beginning to doubt that Osiaric himself had thought of it. It was the kind of thing the Imperial scientists dreamt up in their labs back on Bastion, and then fed into the mainstream curriculum on Carida so that everyone could lap it up and marvel at how it worked.<font color=808080>

“Admiral, report contact... location confirmed! Broadcasting co-ordinates to Shrouds.”<font color=006600>

The cloaked Shrouds moved forward through space, eagerly awaiting a battle. Their weapons charged, and they themselves began broadcasting static, to aid in a lock. The Legion was closing on New Alderaan. The Shrouds began firing.

In a patch of darkened space, momentary eruptions of fire were quelled by a lack of oxygen. The EMP station, unable to see through it’s cloak, and unable to fire it’s main weapon due to it not being charged, was defenceless. As it’s systems began failing, another target lock was acquired, and half the Shrouds broke away to deal with it.</font>

A smile curved the emperor's lips as he eased back in his throne, specially modified into his Star Destroyer. The Imperials were working perfectly, their training apparent as they broke off to eradicate the pesky EMPRESS sattelites that were often the thorn in every commander's side when attacking Defense Initiative planets.

EMPRESS was a double edged sword however. While it could knock out enemy ships with little to no qualms, it seeped through their own atmosphere and usually destroyed massive amounts of civilian electronic chips. Fools they were for creating such a device. Fools they were for using such a device!

He wrapped his fingers against the arm of his chair, watching and waiting with an eager smile, though his feelings and emotions were totally and completely neutral...serene. While he desired this battle so intimately he would not let it get the best of him.

He did not want to come here to administer death. He wanted to come here to administer justice. And that was what he was doing here, as both a Shadow Jedi and the ruler of a galactic government.

Too long had Isstal plagued his trade routes, his men's lives, his own life, even going as far as sending an assassin to try to eradicate the emperor.

The assassin was so near to success...so near...and yet...Fearsons returned, better than he'd ever been.

Admiral Kryke, the newest CO of the HMS Disruptor, lurched carefully to the emperor's side, clearing his throat to gain his attention. Fearsons turned to face him.

"My lord," he said faintly with a bow, not faintly from fear but rather he was unsure about what the Initiative was attempting to pull, "we have encountered no enemy resistance of any kind. Our starfighters are moving to engage the last traces of the EMPRESS systems, do you have any orders sir?"

The emperor thought on this for a moment, his glowing crimson eyes narrowing as he pondered. The most important thing about a fleet battle was to not jump the gun, to not leap into battle pre-emptively and overdo one's advantage.

Once you have an advantage over the enemy focus on exploiting that and no more, don't try to rip it into two advantages.

"I want a wave of Missile Boats to break off and head to the capital city. We can only jam their communiques for so long via Star Destroyers, but if we can knock out their comm stations they're done for, utter chaos Admiral," the emperor said confidently with a stoic smile. "Chaos among the enemy shall carry the day for us no?"

"Agreed my lord," the admiral responded.

"How fast can a wave of our Missile Boats get in there?"

"We can get them in in..." the admiral looked down at the datapad he'd been clutching, "two minutes."

Fearsons nodded. "They can't possibly get their shield generators up that quickly."

It was a fact. It took at least seven minutes for even Despayre to get full shield generators online, the record for Coruscant was seven and thirty seconds, because the communique had to be sent, the orders had to be confirmed, and then the power had to be charged for the gencores to power up and then the energy had to be relayed throughout the entire planet.

With a boost of SLAMs, the Missile Boats were off.

"Status on enemy EMPRESS systems?"

"Heavy damage from our TIEs and the Imperial forces," the admiral responded.

A smile again played the emperor's lips. Through the Force he sensed the worry and dismay in the Imperial general, not because of the battle, or at least not in a sense that he was afraid he would lose.

Rather the sight of the JRS Red Dog was unsettling, even for Emperor Fearsons it had been.

"Get to the comms station, get me a transmission with the Imperial general, I wish to speak with him about the ground assault," the emperor ordered, his smile molding into that stoic, combat demeanor.

The admiral clicked his heels, bowed, stated his confirmation and was off.

(References for shield-raise time? If I recall correctly, Coruscant raised its shields in about a minute when Thrawn arrived in orbit.)

New Alderaan System - Seventeen Minutes after Initial Imperial Contact (Ord Mantell)

The command centre of the Galactic Defence Initiative capitol world was buzzing with activity when the newest dispatched from the Ord Mantell garrison came in.

These were marked 'Urgent' and coded with a Red Alert tag, which was more than enough reason for the command crew to grow nervous. The last 'Urgent' Red Alert had been a year and a half ago.

The dispatch carried news of the Imperial/Jutraalian alliance and ordered the New Alderaan garrison to prepare for an attack. Those orders were then relayed to the fleet and the EMPRESS systems overhead, which began to prime themselves.

The shield was not raised, for that would cut off the planet's long-range communications. But they were charged and ready, and though a late-night worker missed the initial reaction, the hot shields came up with a swiftness that would shock even Coruscant.

A surge of power came through the system at about the time the enemy Missile Boats engaged their SLAM boosters. The shield would not be at full power for another two minutes, but a Gencore Mark II with 48% power was a mighty enemy indeed.

The first few fighters slipped in, moving through gaps with apparent ease. The others were not so lucky. As sensors detected the breaching, that area was reinforced with a power shift from the 'rear' shields. The remaining Missile Boats, hundreds of them, threw themselves uselessly into the shields before they realized what had happened.

The rear-most ships managed to pull out in time, thought only few escaped without damage. Some of the craft, attempting the manouver at such high speeds, pulled themselves apart. Others skipped along the shields and exploded.

That area of shielding weakened, but the generators were up to full power now and the planet was preparing to defend itself. On the ground, the PDSA and turbolasers were charging, and in space above the EMPRESS system was readying herself for action...

(Orbit)

The initial barrage that came against EMPRESS A9 penetrated the cloaking shield and hit the craft, shattering armour and venting a small ammount of atmosphere. That act, however, immediatly caused the cloak to drop and reenforce the shields, bringing them to more than full power. A single EMPRESS station was twice the size of a Shroud cruiser, and they showed it. Their weapons tracked in sequence, showering enemy ships with turbolaser and missile fire.

And as the enemy ships broke off to regroup, the system recloaked and manouvered away from that scene, beginning again its deadly game of cat and mouse, that much more aware.

The entire battle had taken no more than a few minutes and yet it was already up in full. Excellent indeed! The emperor eased into his Force meld, linking his commanders together in a sense of efficiency that would make Isstal's puny forces cower. Their timing would be perfect, their movements the envy of perfection. This was seen with the two dozen missile boats that attempted to scoot through the enemy atmosphere.

The first eight got through with no problem, then two more took aft damage as they tried to force through, while two others hit the shield head on, combusting them into a fiery explosion. The rest broke off and made way for their newest set of directions.

That would be the enemy EMPRESS systems.

While there were the ionic trails left behind by the sattelites, even despite their cloaks, they did not need to follow these, simply the emperor's guidance. His guidance to the presence of the systems.

Missiles were launched with pin point accuracy, and the enemy would have to choose between taking the hits or dropping their cloaks to try to fire at the incoming missiles. That is...when the first few hit, as the cloak not only cut off sight TO the EMPRESS systems, but from as well.

The Missile Boats - mimicking a manuever they had done at the Battle of Yaga Minor - moved to touch down in a clearing of grass, well beyond enemy sensors.

The SLAMS had limited their fuel supply, and they had been packed with several reserves of consumables with which to prepare for this pinnacle battle.

Meanwhile in space the battles - if they could even be called that - raged through with shattering EMPRESS systems, two more gone already.

And the emperor was pleased. He turned to his commander.

"Is there a link with the Imperial commander yet?" he asked with a hint of impatience.

"Negative my lord," the other responded.

"I see...keep trying."

<font color=006600>The first EMPRESS’s cloak dropped just as the second group of Shrouds departed, aimed intently at yet another station; which didn’t know they were coming, as it was also cloaked. Shields strengthened, and attack power dwindled, but the odds were still in favour of the Imperials.

The M-452, 453 and 454 continued to circle the A9 EMPRESS, firing their deadly Occult weapons and blasting through what little defence the station could put up. A9, of course, attempted to retaliate, but due to the Shroud Cloak Skin, it was near-impossible for the station to hit it’s target. It did shower the Shrouds with turbolaser and missile fire, but the station could hardly keep up with the positioning. A few glancing shots managed to strike the side of the M-454 by pure luck, but it was nothing the powerful stealth ship couldn’t handle.

Systems started failing on the A9 then, as the weapons fire grew more intense, and the shields were penetrated more and more often. The commander obviously saw this as a good time to retreat, so the shields dropped their considerable power drain, and the cloak was put up again, the station moving off.

Some distance away, the M-455, 456, 457 and 458 were eagerly engaging in conflict with the A8 EMPRESS station, ridiculing it the way their counterparts were the A9.

Meanwhile, Shrouds M-459, 460 and 461 were still giving off their static laser emissions, and the A9 was still being tracked through space. Targeting data from the M-460 was constantly being relayed to the Shrouds in the field, and was being used to guide their weapons and engines to the correct target. Like a hive mind, the deadly Shrouds operated in unison, working together and proving extremely effective.

The M-452, 453 and 454 broke off their circling suddenly as the A9 cloaked, and sped away a short distance to regroup, and set up a strafing run on the station.

Not too far away, the Imperial fleet trudged on through space, only managing to go as fast as it’s slowest ship. Onboard the Venerator Command Destroyer Pandemonium II, which was trailing a short distance behind the original Pandemonium, Captain Tulok watched the battle on the holoprojector.

The Shrouds attacking the A9 were just now making their strafing run, and without the benefit of the shield at full power their shots went straight through, destroying the EMP emitter and disabling the station altogether. Likewise, the A8, was coming under heavy fire, and Tulok didn’t think it would be long before it was destroyed, or at least disabled.

As he watched the battle proceed, a comm. officer called out for the side of the bridge to the Admiral and the General, insisting he had a priority transmission for them from the commander of the Jutraalian fleet.<font color=808080>

“Put it through here,” <font color=006600>Ming commanded, sitting up straighter in his seat and flattening out the front of his spotless green uniform. Osiaric did the same. As they finished, the central holo stopped it’s live feed of the battle, and was instantly replaced by the life-size form of the Jutraalian Emperor, Fearsons.

Ming looked startled for a moment, as if he didn’t know that Fearsons would have been commanding this fleet. He turned away from the holo and whispered hurriedly to Lithium, as Osiaric made the introductions.<font color=808080>

“Greetings, Emperor Fearsons. I am the Imperial Admiral Osiaric, and this is General Ming.”<font color=006600>

Ming turned back to face the holo, the former surprise and agitation gone from his face. “Greetings, Fearsons.”

As the Jutraalian Emperor made to speak, however, Lithium returned. He was carrying something, a long, metal tube. Stepping up behind the Flag Ranks, he placed the ysalimir an equal distance between both their chairs.


<font color=ffffff>GDI losses:

A9 EMPRESS station: disabled, beyond reasonable repair
A8 EMPRESS station: heavily damaged

TNO losses:

Shroud M-454: shields slightly grazed</font>

The small assault craft known as Silent Death dropped from hyperspace without warning. The quantum armor shimmering slightly within the surrounding space, littered with explosions and laser fire. Standing upon the functional command bridge, the Dark Lord of the Sith began to reach out through the Dark Force..

~Fearsons.. Fearsons..~

His dark essence spread like a rolling fog upon the area, tapping Fearsons' mind.

~Take my craft into your hangar bay at once, Fearsons, we have business to discuss.~

The Dark Lord stood, patiently, upon the bridge of the Silent Death, grinning at the magnificence of his craft. His mind wandered to the day this craft was christened.



"Dark Lord, your vessel is completed."

The Dark Lord replied with a grin of satisfaction.

"I must say, Meschi, when you raided former Admiral Daala's personal files, I did not expect them to be quite so useful to us. I must say, you have served me well, and it shall be remembered."

With that, the Dark Lord's saber snapped to life, cutting down the man before him.. and all others connected with the project. He could not let the secret of his ship's armor get out.. at any cost, he must protect it. Meschi was a good servant, but his usefulness had passed... a pity.





The Dark Lord's mind snapped back to the present...

His ability to sense the commanders of the enemy Star Destroyer was suddenly abruptly haulted, and the emperor smiled at their prudency. They knew the power of a shadow jedi, much less a master of the arts.

They had an ysalamir aboard their Star Destroyer. Prudent indeed.

Rather than getting offended, he simply smiled, he took it rather as a compliment to his power.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, I'm sure you have been informed by Imperial Intelligence, if not the holovid, of who I am. For those who are not aware," he gave a smile that nearly took in his ears, his glowing red eyes causing a bit of uneasiness in the commanders due to certain similarities they held to a past commander, "I am Emperor Fearsons of the Jutraalian Empire.

"As you can see the situation is highly in our advantage, I just need to know who is going to...ugh," he winced suddenly and took a step backward, his holographic image suddenly fading out.

A feeling like a thousand dark and cold needles jabbing into every ounce of flesh with a wave of nausea came and hit him as hard as a barabel shock boxer. He took a step back and the PeFauna moved to his side immediately.

The emperor looked up with horror in his eyes.

He was back.

"Somir is here..."

The Dark Lord's presence was amplified twice over.

~Take me aboard, I do not take kind to waiting.~

Looking out the viewport, his vessel began go edge it's way towards Fearsons' vessel.

~And do not try anything stupid with me.. you know what I am capable of.~