"It would be my pleasure," replied the other officer.

The Kashan man returned the salute before pulling up a hardwood chair alongside his own consort, Pro-consul Thorn.

Corise's sapphire eyes quickly swept over the surrounding area. The station occupants, members of the Coalition, was made up of a diversity of species and aliens from all worlds and walks of life. It wasn't more uncommon to see an aged man who had served with the Alliance or an alien that had been discriminated against by elements of the Empire.

But this quartet of humans was different; they were the newer faces among the Coalition; unbeaten by years of war or discrimination. And with the exception of Christina, the entire group was dressed in the uniforms of their planet's defence fleets. This group had far more in common than any of the masses which surrounded him. And Corise was betting that they had more in common yet.

Commodore Lucerne smiled. "Can I get any of ladies or gentleman a drink?"

“Well, it’s an interesting proposition,” replied Shipwright in response to the Commodores question. “The plight of humanity within the Galactic Coalition seems perilous at best.”

The four had slipped into a natural, easy discourse. With drinks in hand and casually contributing a few light anecdotes, they had broken the ice. Though superfluous in their word play, beneath the subtle, perhaps guarded exchange of joust and parry, these two men seemed to have much in common. Behind the gentle game of speak and listen, listen and speak, Lance Shipwright and Corise Lucerne were forging an intangible, unconscious bond based on a deeper shared understanding of the Galaxy and their roles within it.

Within the first ten minutes, before anyone could say anything of any real value, the two men had cornered the conversation between them. Perhaps sensing this, their female counterparts, d’Foose and Thorn alike, began a series of independent tangents that seemed to revolve around and delve into the ideas put forth by their superiors.

There was an immediate rapport between them.

“It is a strange irony; the place of humanity. We influence the Galaxy and it shifts accordingly. Humans spawned the Empire and it was humans that rose up against it in defense of the multitude of aliens whose rights were being so blatantly violated. And now it is humans who have become the minority… at least, here.”

Lance waved a hand at the assembled guests milling about. He sipped his drink.

“I am not a human elitist, Commodore. I am, however; interested in seeing the rights of humanity upheld and protected even within a Coalition that is becomingly increasingly… alien,” said the Vice Commodore in an even, diplomatic tone of voice. “The Gestalt Colonies are predominantly human. By design or nature…”

“But I digress… a strong military ethic and powerful sense of political identity. These are the things I believe that humanity needs to cling to if we want to avoid the long downward spiral. I do not believe that the New Order is a viable alternative, however.”

“The Colonies have been criticized for what outsiders perceive to be a Post-Imperial ideology and, indeed, even I have to agree that this is not a totally unfounded, groundless observation.” Vice Commodore Shipwright shrugged. “Which is why I believe it is important for entities like ours to connect with one another.”

“We represent a declining trend in the Coalition.”

At this point, sensing a dramatic tension around the subject, Captain d’Foose spoke up.

“What do you think of the Colonial?” She asked the Commodore.

“What do you think of the Colonial?”

Corise took a sip of his Cambrian wine, and leaned back. "When I first saw your ship, I was tempted to think that it was a former Imperial vessel of some sort; because of its dagger-like hull, although I have to say that the black hull and the superstructure set it apart from most Imperial vessels. I have to say, I do not believe I know enough about it to say any more."

Corise returned his attention back to the Vice-Commodore.

"We have much in common then. Kashan has had the same problems within the Coalition. As our culture was developed from the military of the Old Republic, we have a very similar ideology to your own, and to some aspect, that of the Imperials.

In all candor, I'm inclined to admit that many of us are also expansionists, a product of our culture; it shows in our shipyard facility which has been continually building cruisers for well over twenty years and in the mandatory term of military service after graduation; yet another reason for those within the Coalition to think of us as being more related to the Empire rather than our true allegiance."

He sipped his wine a little more.

"Do you know any others like us within the Coalition?"

(EDIT: Sorry that this is in the wrong account, I didn't realize which one I was in.)

“What do you think of the Colonial?”

Corise took a sip of his Cambrian wine, and leaned back. "When I first saw your ship, I was tempted to think that it was a former Imperial vessel of some sort; because of its dagger-like hull, although I have to say that the black hull and the superstructure set it apart from most Imperial vessels. I have to say, I do not believe I know enough about it to say any more."

Corise returned his attention back to the Vice-Commodore.

"We have much in common then. Kashan has had the same problems within the Coalition. As our culture was developed from the military of the Old Republic, we have a very similar ideology to your own, and to some aspect, that of the Imperials.

In all candor, I'm inclined to admit that many of us are also expansionists, a product of our culture; it shows in our shipyard facility which has been continually building cruisers for well over twenty years and in the mandatory term of military service after graduation; yet another reason for those within the Coalition to think of us as being more related to the Empire rather than our true allegiance."

He sipped his wine a little more.

"Do you know any others like us within the Coalition?"

And for another hour, perhaps longer, the two men and their attentive counterparts enjoyed a ranging discussion that, much as it had before, wandered between the political, moral and sociological aspects of life. Their conversation enjoyed along with freshened beverages, they would eventually and infrequently move towards areas considered taboo by polite Coalition society at which point one of their well meaning female escorts would jestingly change the topic. And in truth the two shared more commonalities between them then either of the women cared to admit.

“But you see,” said Vice-Commodore Shipwright. They were well into a discourse revolving around the idealistic differences of Imperial and Post-Imperial theories. “The problem is in independent freedoms. A totalitarian government, a tyrannical dictatorship if you will, does not allow men like ourselves the sort of operational freedom we have come to enjoy. I do not think it is a matter of Right and Wrong, simply a choice based on observation, observation of the self and the universe as a whole.”

In an effort to remain cordial Lance Shipwright had adopted a sort of metaphysical stance from which to debate the value of the various manifestations of Government. Without directly stating his objectives and perspectives, and in this fashion, he was able to allude to the various facets of the Coalition and Empire. It was a civil tactic that allowed him to make possibly judgmental appraisals of the Coalition while staying away from any sort of ill connotation.

“The Colonies employ a democratic standard which is organized around the military.” He chuckled, “a Militaristic Democracy.”

Captain d’Foose, leaning forward and winking, interrupted. “I think it’s time for a walk.”

“I think that is a wonderful idea,” agreed the Kashan Pro-Consul. “You mentioned your vessel, the Colonial. If I am not mistaken our ships were assigned similar moorage slips visible from the observation deck.”

As easily as that, and now trailing behind their civilian political entourages, Commodore Lucerne and Vice-Commodore Shipwright matched steps and continued their conversation uninterrupted. Through the domed windows that looked out on the pin-point blackness of space they could see their two ships, Kashan and Gestalt, moored in the distance.

“Why the wedge bow?” Commodore Lucerne asked of the other. They had established a fairly familiar rapport and thus; dispensed with the trivial politeness generally due their stations. Neither spoke the word sir, nor differed in rank to the other. “It is, as you said, very Post-Imperial.”

“It works,” Shipwright shrugged in reply. “It is a tested and proven shape that lends itself to certain mind set. We were operating within a budget and striving to create a product that would distinguish us within the Coalition.”

The Colonial sat below and before the Seraph, visible in skewed profile. Its matte black hull camouflaged its shape, obscuring it from view. A patrol group, possible one or two CF-105 Arrows orbited the Colonial in a lazy ovoid. Because of its relative position to the Kashan flagship the Colonial appeared to be the larger of the two, and in truth it was if only by twenty meters… a starfighter length or two. At six hundred meters each, they were impressive to behold no matter the frame of reference. All the more impressive, these were the warships of two previously independent cultures. To imagine these ships being fielded by two such factions only added to the effect.

“I wonder,” said the Vice Commodore, turning to regard Corise Lucerne. “Do you think we might be able to arrange a tour before the conference wraps up?”

“Why the wedge bow?” Commodore Lucerne asked of the other. They had established a fairly familiar rapport and thus; dispensed with the trivial politeness generally due their stations. Neither spoke the word sir, nor differed in rank to the other. “It is, as you said, very Post-Imperial.”

“Why the wedge bow?” asked the Commodore.

“It is, as you said, very Post-Imperial.”

Corise nodded. The Wedge-style bow was a proven design. For decades, the Imperials had used the design, not only because it was beautiful, but primarily because it allowed a clear field of fire for all of the ship’s weapons in a forward arc. It was a very efficient design in terms of using firepower, although that design also meant that the volume was also reduced for its size. The Seraph design philosophy was the other way around; to maximize volume for more starfighters, weapons, troops, and so forth. The limitation with that philosophy was that it construed the hull in such a manner that it was impossible for all of the ship’s weapons to be concentrated in the advantageous forward firing arc. Corise abruptly shook his head as his revelry of thoughts was interupted.

“I wonder; Do you think we might be able to arrange a tour before the conference wraps up?”

Corise casually nodded.

“But of course,” replied the Kashan man, glancing at his chrono, “we have time enough right now if you wish.”

Captain D’Foose swiped another strand of her hair out of her face and smiled. “I wish I could, but I have to head back to the Colonial to check up on her.”

“And I’m suppose to be at a diplomatic meeting in a few minutes,” noted Christina, “so you’ll have to excuse me. It was nice to me you, Vice-Commodore. Adieu.”

With their other companions off, the two men entered the Seraph via a standard air-lock that descended from the cruiser’s hangar bay. The dorsal bay of the vessel was filled the various vessels of the Kashan Navy and Army. Lines of Deathsabers occupied the majority of the hangar’s space. With the exception of a flight of Deathsabers readying for a routine Combat Air Patrol, the black craft rested on the floor with their wings folded upward in a manner similar to that of hawkbats, albeit the reverse in being rightside up. In the rear of the room, there were a quartet of the venerable Y-4 transports and a squad of the new Sentinel-class Medium Tanks. The men walked up to a S9 Deathsaber.

“This is the S9 Deathsaber, which makes up the bulk of the Kashan Starfighter arm. It’s a multi-purpose stealth fighter that is stationed thus far on all the Kashan Defence Fleet’s ships…”

The solid tread of boots echoed through the corridors. A gray blast door slid open, allowing a squad of the armored Kashan Shock Troopers to march past yet another set of blast doors. As the troopers disappeared behind another blast door, the pair of officers approached the blast doors that the troops had just passed: BATTLE BRIDGE. The doors slid open, revealing a circular room lined with flatscreens and holo-projectors. At the navigation station, a pasty-faced sub-lieutenant gave a brief glance at the two before returning to plotting a new course.

“This is the battle bridge of the Seraph-class. We have an observation bridge as well that we use for none battle situations. Speaking of which, Sub-Lieutenant, why are working down here?” asked the Kashan Commodore.

The other man shrugged. “I have the next watch; the one we’ve been assigned to patrol the perimeter.”

Corise turned to Lance. “We’ll have to be entering hyperspace to check on checkpoint Bravo. Will you be needed on your vessel?”

“Captain,” cut in the Sub-Lieutenant, “the Colonial has been assigned to the same patrol as we have…”
-------------------------------------------------------------------
There were multiple jump points for getting to Starwind Station, but each one was guarded by some force, whether it was a small fleet of capital ships, or in Checkpoint Bravo’s case, a small asteroid base. While many asteroid bases were hollowed out to the point where the vast majority of its volume was inhabitable, Checkpoint Bravo was not. It was little more than a control room with a hangar for a shuttle, taking up less than five percent of the asteroid.

“Sirs, we’re dropping out of hyperspace.”

The quiet conversation of the two commanders barely slowed down as the blue lines of hyperspace changed into the black expanse of space. Black and brown asteroids lazily drifted around Checkpoint Bravo. Every so often, one would collide, strewing more debris around the area. It was a typical sight to an experienced spacer.

“Sir, we’ve hailed Checkpoint Bravo, but we haven’t received a response.”

In the cyan glow of the observation bridge, Commodore Lucerne frowned as he walked over to the sensor’s screen. The bridge rocked, sending the Kashan man to the deck. He scrambled up.

“What was that?”

“We’ve taken energy hits from sector eight.”

“But there’s nothing there.”

The sensor screen began to change, revealing several ships: a Nebulon-G Destroyer, a Marauder-class Corvette, a DP-20. And in the back, there were faint traces of other ships.

Corise slowly shook his head. “I guess we know why the checkpoint isn’t responding. Raise shields, beat to quarters, and everyone down to the battle bridge.”

The bridge crew activated the shields before descending via turbolift to the better protected battle bridge. Seconds later, squadrons of Deathsabers began to launch as the Seraphs' gunners manned their stations.

Aboard the Colonial, bridge crew beating to the call of battle, the roar of klaxons and the glare of pulsating red glare of tactical illumination drummed. Standing at the head of it all calmly overseeing the chaos was Captain d’Foose. She had called action stations and counted the seconds.

Her executive officer, the XO, repeated the ships various stations reporting in across the ships internal communication network before finally confirming all points ready.

“The flight deck confirms; set for launch, pilots in craft.”

As if on cue the Colonial swung her forward guns into position.

The enemy had not planned well, but they had come in force. Even so, approaching the destroyer as they had from such distance, the Colonial was easily nimble enough to swing her wedge shape bow towards the opposing line. A natural advantage of her angular design was that, in bow forward conflicts, the ship could bring most of its weapons to bear on a single target.

“Scramble the squadron,” ordered Captain d’Foose.

Depicted as green dots accompanied by relevant tactical information, a dozen blips moved away from the Colonial which, according to her own sensors, was the middle of the Galaxy while everything kept moving away from the center. Everything except the enemy line; drawn against the destroyer and arranged in a staggered V were the opposing vessels, themselves drawn as red blips of various size many of which presented little or no relevant tactical information.

Three of the ships were easily identifiable. A Marauder Corvette, chalking in at almost two hundred meters over half a century old, sat to one edge of the formation. A similarly classic DP-20 held the middle while, to its port side and out about half a click, a deadly looking Nebulon G destroyer lurked with its own bow pointed ominously towards the Colonial. Behind, and visible in profile, was a vessel the sort with which Captain d’Foose had become all too accustomed.

“Have the alert fighters form an Alpha screen at seven fifty off the bow, weapons free,” she said. “Shields up, divert an additional twenty percent to the forward arc.”

While none of the ships currently tagged presented too much of an obstacle for the Colonial-class destroyer, her squadron of starfighters and the considerable force of a Seraph-class cruiser with its own fighter squadrons, they could, in theory, become a clear and present danger if properly coordinated. This was not what had put d’Foose on edge.

“Tag the rear position Dauntless-001, send to the Seraph.”

“Aye sir,” called the XO. “We have a line to the Seraph.”

Captain d’Foose grabbed the microphone.

“This is the Colonial…”

She paused. Lance would be listening on the other end… aboard their ship, not hers… where she could not protect him. She felt suddenly uncomfortable. Her mind buzzed.

The Colonial had a better position, relative to the unknown formation, and had likely received a slightly better sensor image of the refitted battle-cruiser lurking in the background. It was possible, just possible, that someone aboard the Kashan vessel had already identified the cruiser but all the same it was something to go on.

“… Commodore, I defer to you. The field is yours to command sir.” She did not bother to appraise him of her own condition, the Seraph had powerful sensors and was easily close enough to tell for itself (Captain d’Foose had not yet decided what, if any gender the Seraph best embodied). “We count one light-destroyer, a corvette, analogue and one Dauntless-class. I know the line well, Commodore. She looks armed, heavily armed.”

Tapping a key on her own console d’Foose began uploading her own information, factual and theoretical, to the Seraph. She keyed in the most recent sensor scans.

“And if I might say, sir... They look unfriendly.”

Unfriendly is an understatement. Blast. At least the plating worked.

“Thank you Captain d’Foose,” calmy replied the Kashan man, leaning forward to take a better look at the holo of the battlefield.

The front-line of the pirate vessels formed an inverted V. The formation itself was fairly common, but not usually at this stage of the battle. Usually, ships started in another formation before using a V to surround their enemy and pummel them in a devastating cross-fire at short range. Based on that background, the Commodore wondered if the pirates had just recently fought another group besides the checkpoint.

“Sir, the forward pair of S9s have detected a Dauntless-class Cruiser behind their main line. It seems to be guarding some prizes that they must of took earlier.”

Corise tapped a few buttons, zooming in on the holo-feed from the starfighters, which showed the large cruiser surrounded by a few damaged mercantile vessels, including a pair of Xiytiar-class Freighters. Most of them showed recent signs of damage, suggesting that they had just been captured. And if that was the case, there was the possibility of prisoners being onboard as well. That eliminated the option of purely destroying them, as he had qualms about possibly killing innocent crew. Corise bit his lower lip before his blue eyes turned to weapon’s console.

“All guns are free to fire.”

The Colonial was easily in the best position of the ships present. And aided by her wedge-design, she had little difficulty maneuvering and presenting the vast bulk of her weapons to fire. The dark ship began to send out streams of fire at the opposing side. Kashan Seraphs were slower and consequently less maneuverable than the Colonial. This combined with their bulky design meant that they couldn’t present all of their firepower in a forward arc to piratical vessels. The shape of the Seraphs dictated the use of the classic broadside, which was advantageous in close-quarters combat that the ships were designed to withstand. Nonetheless, the long-range turbolasers and quad ion cannons that could target the vessels, did so, sending out brilliant streaks of emerald and sapphire at the opposing craft. The Kashan vessels moved moved in tandem behind the the Colonial before each one arced off at opposite 45 degree angles to destroyer. This presented both the bow firepower and a broadside of each vessel to the opposing ships.

“Hold ground.”

The helmsmen of the Seraphs braked their craft to a standstill.

“Tractor the enemy ships.”

The tractor beam projectors of the ships grabbed hold of the nearby pirate ships and began to pull them forward to the ships of the combined Gestalt-Kashan fleet. Tugged forward in directions they could not control, their formation was sheared apart hap-harzardly. Tactically wise, this prevented the piratical ships from escaping into hyperspace. To further negate enemy firepower, the tractor beam operators began to rotate the Nebulon-G so that it perpendicular to the Colonial. This negated nearly all of the pirate ship’s firepower because the guns were fixed in a forward arc. Thus, it couldn’t do too much damage to the combined fleet.

In the meantime, amid the brilliant light show of turbolasers and ion cannons, squadrons of starfighters from both sides began to clash in a furious melee. As the pirates were flying older craft, the newer Gestalt and Kashan starfighters would have little difficulty in a dogfight. Seeing that situation secure, some of the Deathsabers continued forward undetected by their enemy, closing in on the enemy front-lines to help provide more accurate targeting data to the Coalition vessels as well as gather more information on the Dauntless and her consorts.

The Colonial unleashed an unholy fury upon the exposed broadside of the Nebulon G frigate. Her guns pumped and pounded while her missile racks dispensed wave after wave of explosive tipped projectile. Volley after volley, the destroyer pummeled the smaller and oddly shaped starship into quick submission.

“Her shields are going to break,” observed Captain d’Foose victoriously.

The Colonials computers said otherwise. It was tracking an energy spike on the frigates port side; the angle currently exposed to the deadly frontal firing arc of the destroyer. On board, desperate to protect themselves against the cooperative assault of Kashan and Gestalt starships, the commander had ordered his or her shield energy redirected to protect against the onslaught.

This was exactly what she had been waiting for. Captain d’Foose rounded on the flight commodore.

“Colonial squadron, commence missile strikes now.” A string of target point information, key strike locations on the now exposed starboard side of the vessel, were uploaded along with her commands. “Use the Kashan cannons for cover.”

A dozen clicks of confirmation came back affirmative. Colonial Squadron formed up for a missile strike against the frigate.

Propelled by unbelievably powerful engines and equipped with a dizzying compliment of missiles, the CF-105 Arrows formed up into a long line and dove towards the exposed starboard side of the Nebulon. The ships starfighter and missile defense came online, a half dozen auto-cannons in position to try and drive off the assault.

They were partially effective. A single interceptor, the lead pilots wingman, took a glancing hit and was forced to abort the run. Eleven other starfighters unloaded their missile compliment. Twenty five missiles per starfighter streaked towards the starboard side of the frigate. Its defenses managed to intercept a few, but the vast majority struck home.

A plume of explosive force ripe with flame and debris nearly split the ship in two along its narrow ‘spine’ shaped keel.

Stricken, the Nebulon lurched onto one side.

“All fighters are bingo for ammo and switching to cannons.”

Captain d’Foose nodded.

The Kashans were in position to lead the attack now. This would afford her forces a few moments to recollect themselves.

“Inform the Commodore that the frigate is out of the fight. I’m recalling half of my fighters to rearm.” As an afterthought she added an instruction for the remaining arrows to double up with the Deathsabers fighters. Reload and reaming would take at least five minutes with an additional one hundred eighty seconds launch and recover time.

Hopefully the Kashans would by her the time she needed.