Raise the Flag 2015 fictions

Here are the fiction entries for Raise the Flag 2015

"Encounter at Phare" by Colonel Plif (bonus entry)

Sin Squadron sat at the bar in the ISDII Warrior's pilot lounge, sipping on drinks and chatting while looking up at holoscreens that were hung from the ceiling. They'd been spending a lot of time here with the Warrior being in drydock for repairs after a recent mission. The screens were all set to a pod race on Malastare, where a hot shot racer from Glee Anselm was way ahead of the pack. "Pfft, I could do that. It's just flying a little above the the ground, big deal," said Yun. "Sure, and you'd end up a grease stain on the wall. I've seen some of your banks," said Wraith. Master chimed in. "Yeah, look where you're going sometime." Yun sunk down in his seat with a frown, knowing they were right. The screens switched to a news anchor from the Emperor's Hammer Press Corps with a breaking announcement. A New Republic fleet had appeared on the edge of EH territory. The camera switched to a view of the fleet cruising through the Phare system, led by a Calamari cruiser with a few corvettes and frigates as escorts. "That's some serious hardware they're sending our way. Shouldn't we be out there?" Nolij asked. Plif sighed and said, "Nah, we knew they were coming as soon as they hit the Minos Cluster. We're still down for repairs, so they sent in the B Team."

The ISDII Hammer jumped into the Phare system. Accompanied by its battlegroup, the fleet arrived while the New Republic intruders were still outside the range of Phare's defenses. The platform and its single squadron of TIEs would've been no match for the NR forces, so the Hammer was routed as soon as the early warning came in. The NR ships halted as soon as they detected the Hammer. A signal came through the Hammer's communications center and was patched in to the bridge comm system. "This is Admiral Kelth aboard the New Republic Cruiser Highwind. We've been tracking pirate activity in this sector and tracked them back to this world. We have no quarrel with Remnant forces." High Admiral Anahorn Dempsey took a moment before replying. "This is High Admiral Dempsey of the Emperor's Hammer. You seem to be mistaken about where you are and who you're talking to. You are in EH space about to attack an EH installation. Unless you want a fight, you'd better look for your pirates elsewhere." "I stand corrected. You'd better check the area for pirates, we're sure they've been coming from right here." "I think you'd better check your ears for pirates, Admiral, because I just told you to get the hell out of this system." "I, er... yes, ma'am." And with that, the NR forces turned about and jumped to hyperspace.

Back in the bar on the Warrior, Sin Squadron was continuing to watch the news reports with great interest. Flelm was disappointed. "What, no lasers? Come on, I wanted to see a fight." "Yeah, I bet I could've taken down that cruiser all by myself!" exclaimed Yun. The rest of the unit groaned in unison.

"New Republic Aggression" by Major Flelm (bonus entry)

A pair of verdant lasers converged on the XWing’s upper port engine, starting a chain reaction of explosions that swiftly reduced the hapless starfighter into sparkling pinpricks of light. “Nice work, Commander,” the gravel of Flelm’s voice announced from the comms system. “Another pubbie engagement without a casualty. From battle, that is.” A New Republic Star Destroyer was venting its atmosphere in huge gouts of flame, while the Warrior only showed small patches of blackened hull where the firepower had gotten through its shields. Plif keyed his comms, stifling a chuckle, “Calm down Flelm, alcohol poisoning is a very serious injury. It’s not their fault the new Sigma pilots can’t hold their liquor.” He shook his head, and nudged the control stick around, to head towards the Warrior ’s hangar bay. “Let’s get back to the ship, Sin. Time for some welldeserved rest.”

On the bridge, High Admiral Frodo let out a gentle snore, serenaded by the dronings of Colonel Frown. The wing commander was oblivious to the lack of attention being paid to his recitation of lists, statistics, and understated praise for his pet goat TIE. However, Frodo’s nap was soon interrupted by a junior officer, tugging on his sleeve harder and harder, until he was nearly pulled out of his command chair. Frodo snorted in surprise, blinking the sleep out of his eyes, until he realized what had roused him. Staring down the impertinent lieutenant, he muttered, “What is it now, moron?” Lieutenant Third Class Horace Moron’s face broke into a beaming smile, glad the commodore had remembered his name. “Yes sir. I have an urgent message from the TIE Corps Commander, Admiral Elwood. His communications officer says it’s top secret.” Frodo rolled his eyes, his restful relaxation interrupted. “Fine, moron, put it through to the war room.” He leveraged himself off his seat and stalked off the bridge, leaving Frown to continue his soliloquy, eyes closed in the rapture of minutiae.

“This is Frodo,” he answered, as the screen burst to life with the image of Elwood. “What’s going on boss? Something new on the war front?” Woody’s face had a frown on it, quite out of place from all the unmitigated success they had been having in the conflict with the New Republic. “Well, kind of. There’s a new theory that some drunk idiot had over here on the Challenge , and the analysts have been having a field day with it. What if we’re not fighting the New Republic?” Frodo looked up from the solo game of sabaac he was playing, to gauge Woody’s level of seriousness. When he saw there was no trace of sarcasm, he immediately burst out laughing, unable to stop until nothing came out but wheezing gasps. “Whawhat? Of course it’s the pubbies! Who else would it be? Palpatine’s clone, back from the dead?!” This set him off into another gale of giggles. “No, stop it, calm down!” Woody stern voice came out of the speaker. “What if it’s another group, trying to get us to fight the New Republic for them? They attack us with old, outdated ships and droidpiloted craft, making us think the pubbies are easy pickings. We go on a war of conquest, and we run into a much better prepared New Republic, and once everyone’s worn down from fighting, this other faction swoops in and takes over everything.” The worry in his voice cut through Frodo’s humor, causing him to squint in thought. “But if that’s the case… who could it be?” Another thought shot into his head, and his face twisted into a frown. “And are they doing the same thing to the New Republic?”

"ISDII Warrior - Kappa Squadron Barraks. 0430" by Captain Ulrich Drachen (bonus entry)

Just Seconds ago Major Repulsor barged into the Squad’s Common rooms screaming and banging on his pilot’s doors in an extremely urgent tone. One by one the Pilots jumped from the beds the younger pilots were in such a frenzy you would have thought the Warrior was under attack directly.
The more veteran pilots were roused much more slowly most of them thinking that this was yet another drill or for god’s sake another dubious “urgent mission” to escort one of the Admirals on yet another critical mission to the gaming tables on Nar Shaddaa.
The Ex Commander of Kappa Squadron Ulrich Drachen was the last to leave his bed feeling completely not interested in yet another pleasure run. it was almost a year ago that he was forced from his command position due to very ancient personal problems that had to be dealt with. Leaving the Squadron was the toughest thing he had to do but family always comes first and so the last year saw many changes to the Squadron and the TIE Corps in general. A good friend was now in charge of the whole CORPS which was a pleasant surprise since Ulrich was almost confident that Woody couldn’t be that crazy to accept the biug job, but there he was and doing well… except for these dam pleasure cruises!
Ever since the Warrior became the Flagship it tends to fall to the only escort Squadron to protect our fearless leaders on these “missions”. Most of the pilots including Captain Drachen missed the competition and fun of winning the right to be the flagship of the TIE Corps but now there is no excitement just the same old training and the same old boring conversations in the mess hall. At that moment Repulsor kicks in Ulrich’s door and with a very irate tone of voice screams at him “WHAT ARE YOU DOING!! GET YOUR ASS OUT OF BED AND TO YOUR MISSILE BOAT!”

“For god sake’s why … Does Crespe need yet another integration with that Dancer?” the increasingly annoyed captain grunted.

“No you Idiot a small fleet of New Republic ships just cross out borders and we are running protection for the entire command staff to check it out! Now get off your as… “

“New republic!” Drachen interrupted, “You mean no more training this could be the real thing?!”

The commander nodded and watched as the life sparked a new in Drachen’s eyes and as he finished getting into his flight suit push past the Commander screaming “What are you waiting for? Just give me my 5 points already and let’s kick some ass!”

bonus fiction by General Pickled Yoda

“He did WHAT?” Admiral Elwood the Brave was yelling from the bridge of the ImperialII class Star Destroyer Challenge at a hapless underling relaying messages.
“Flew straight at them with guns blazing, sir. He was broadcasting obscenities on open comms in violation of our combat protocols all the way.”
The TIE Corps Commander muttered something similar to himself. “Did he at least take down some Rebel scum with him? A Spectre Advanced Missile Boat has the armament to level a moon…”
The voice at the other end of the comm sounded sheepish. “No, sir. We recovered the flight recorders. It appears Major Cruise’s first volley was so off target it actually swung around and destroyed his fighter.”
There was silence as the bridge crew of the Challenge pondered whether the analogy was too obvious. Deeming it (just barely) acceptable, Elwood pushed for more details.
“What about the rest of the Hammer Strike Force?”
“Frankly, sir, we have no idea where they are. Occasionally we come across a little bit of debris, but never anything indicating they had a significant engagement. Commodore Dempsey insists they’re at full readiness, but... “
“Nevermind. Return to your base.”
Elwood the Brave turned to look at his second in command. The Strategic Operations Officer nodded in agreement, knowing full well what the leader of the Emperor’s Hammer TIE Corps was thinking.
“It’s time to show our full hand. Deploy the Flagship. Unleash the Warrior ”

bonus fiction by High Admiral Frodo March

"NR Advances?" Major Repulsor said incredulously as he stared at his Wing Commander's blank, emotionless face. Actually, it was not that emotionless, since it always seemed to have a frown stapled onto it.

"Yes, Major, the NR is advancing upon us. They have done so quite stealthily by masking their fleets and bases as Void Raptor insurgents. As if we would not have caught on that a fleet we annihilated somehow rose from the ashes and came back to haunt us." Continued Colonel Frown as Repulsor gradually stopped listening and started reading his mission briefing data pad.

The colonel was an excellent briefer, but he had a tendency to take a while to get to the point of the matter, which was Repulsor's main concern. A new republic fleet, with its A-wings and E-wings and the rest of the alphabet, was not the typical run of the mill scum and villainy he and his unit was used to facing these days. The last few months had been quiet. Heck, the Commodore even ran a popularity contest two months ago to up morale.

He read through the boiler plate stuff at the beginning of the briefing and got to the meat of the mission. Estimated fleet strengths and coordinates. He was also beginning to get very curious as to why his Escort Squadron was being tapped for a mission with no VIP, convoys or critical targets to defend. By all means, this seemed to be an offensive reaction to enemy advances.

That's when Repulsor noticed that five pages in the middle of his datapad briefing were classified and blocked off. He looked up to see that Wing Commander Frown had not stopped talking: "...Therefore, Commander, I will not be completing this briefing as I have not been included in the discussion for purposes of a "need to know" nature. Which I find preposterous. If anyone on this ship can keep a secret, it's most certainly me! That being said, what is decided is decided. I'd like you to step over to the other side of the room and talk to that sneaky looking character who seems to always be wearing a dress..." Repulsor did not bother to let the Wing Commander finish, since he did not have all day. He purposefully walked over to the cloaked figure and started asking him questions:
Q1: What is the nature of this mission?
A1: Hello there. The nature is escort, but the substance of the mission is classified. In other words, you will not be made aware of who or what you are escorting.

Q2: That's sketchy.
A2: Indeed, Major, yet you will do as you are told. You are to take off with a flight of Missile Boats and follow the Corellian Corvette Minotaur to the coordinates they will transfer you once in flight.

Q3: Is that it? No more information?
A3: No. Except that you should have lots of advanced missiles and heavy rockets loaded.

Repulsor nodded and went to get some of his pilots. He decided to go with the veterans, and walked in to the Flight 3 ready room where he saw Tempest, Impulse and Hawkins in various states of boredom. "Gents, get to the Missile Boats. We have a mission" The three pilots got up and moved to the direction of the hangar, with only a few grumbles about Super fighters and TIE Bombers.
Tempest exited hyperspace with the proper spacing between his three wingmen and the corvette. The unknown coordinates sent to them at the last minute were to a part of the Minos cluster that was thought to be uninhabited, with little to no strategic value. Yet, here they were.

This kind of mission was out of the ordinary, Tempest thought, at least nowadays. Back in the old TC, such events would have been almost common place. Misleading briefing officers, cloaked figures, and secret objectives. Oh how he longed for those days.

The radio silence was broken by the corvette "This is CRV Minotaur, in position" it's communications officer sent out. There did not seem to be any ships in the vicinity, according to Tempest's targeting computer and his eyes. All they could see where three larger asteroids surrounded by debris and smaller pieces of space rock.
Out of the debris came out a targetable object. Tempest quickly cued in on it first and began his approach to identify. As the number three in the formation, it was his duty to identify potential threats, with number four being his cover.
"Three, moving in" Tempest said on the radio. To which the corvette answered "Negative Three, hold position".
Tempest had no choice but to obey. He put his throttle to idle next to the idling Corvette, but he kept his scopes targeted on the new intruder.
He could begin making out what it was as it approached the corvette. When it came within three clicks, his scopes gained greater detail and he could tell immediately what it was... a TIE Praetor! Speaking of super craft! He hadn't seen one of those in years. Except of course for the Commodore's personal craft... Which was thought to be the only one kept out of moth ball.
He communicated to Repulsor on a private channel:
"Is that the COM?"
"Negative, T, the COM is back on the ship. I saw him right before we left. I'm as puzzled as you are." Repulsor answered. The TIE Praetor approached the corvette, and the ship began its run up for light speed. That's when suddenly, six A-wings armed with advanced concussion missiles appeared out of hyperspace within firing range of the corvette and the Kappans.
"This is the Minotaur, engage, ENGAGE!" the Corvette sent to the Missile Boats.
By this time, the TIE Praetor was safely in the Corvette's hangar. Safe is a relative term in this case since we all know that Corvettes are basically made of chocolate to a well armed fighter. The kappans were outnumbered but only by two. This would be solved quickly as impulse and Hawkins had already targeted and destroyed two A-wings by the time the communication was sent through. Boredom has that effect on pilots. This however opened them up for attack from the other four A-wings who were trying to avenge their friends. The two pilots were dodging advanced missiles while Repulsor and Tempest made quick work of the next two A-wings. All of a sudden, the tables had turned, and the A-wings were the ones that were outnumbered. They began their escape. Tempest managed to use all his shield and laser power to get fast enough to destroy one of them, but the other made it out. Which means they failed one of their objectives.
"Damn..." Repulsor said as the last A-wing made it out alive. By then the corvette was long gone back to the Warrior, so it would be his duty to report this to the chain of command. They would not like it.

"You let him escape!" Frown yelled at Repulsor, his face in seething rage.
"I'm sorry sir. They were hardwired to get out of there." Repulsor was trying to calm down his superior officer, but to no avail. "If I knew what the implications of this mission were, which I don't, I would be supremely upset." Added the Wing Commander. "Of all the times..." Frown started saying, but the Commodore stopped him by raising a hand. "Gilbert. Could you go check on the goat please? I think it's chewing up some circuits again and I can't have the Sigma pilots fixing the ship all the time when they should be out flying." He said. "Yes sir." Frown replied as he left the briefing room in a huff. "Rep, relax. It's no big deal. A-wings escape sometimes, it's what they were made to do." Said HA March. "But, since the NR now knows what we got out of those Rocks... I best tell you. I'm trying to get the Praetors back together. The first step was to get the ships." Repulsor didn't know what to say. So he said nothing. "So now we have two. Ten more to go." Frodo said as he gave Repulsor a slap on the back. "Let's get to work!".

FIN

"Plausible Deniability" by Lieutenant-Colonel John T. Clark (bonus entry)

Lieutenant Colonel Clark was lounging lazily in a chair on the Hammer Officer’s Club and admired the protuberance of a nearby, very active, orange star. “…what do you think the briefing will be about? Must be serious if the brass doesn’t believe we can handle it without the Warrior and Frodo’s cavemen.” Clark shrugged and shifted his gaze back to the round cocktail table. Three pairs of eyes regarded him with poised glances. Hammer’s Squadron Leaders had assembled for a couple of drinks and some gossip about the planned Fleet wide operation. The gossiping part had been at full swing when John’s eyes and mind had slipped toward the nearby star, pondering his first major operation in a command position. “Guess you and Falkenbach over there will be the first to know, Dunta. Well after Delta of course…”, the reconnaissance leader told the strike commanders. While everyone was laughing a flicker of pseudo-motion revealed the familiar shape of the Warrior and her escorts. “Time to break up our little party, I guess we’ll not get much sleep in the next week”. Everyone finished his last drink and soon the meeting ended.

“… and as to the obvious implications of this operation, secrecy is our utmost concern.” Line Admiral Yun Vandorack nodded to the Bothan in the expensive cloak. “Of course, councilor.”, he lifted the pile of briefing and intelligence pads. “I will take my leave now, if you don’t mind.” The Bothan lifted his hand in a dismissive gesture and watched the muscular young man leave before taking her own cue. Back again in her Coruscant apartment, Oktra Prisk'ia threw her travelling cloak into a corner and headed right for her secure office. It felt as if the COM took ages to build up the secure connection, but finally it was done: “The plan is a go, just keep Ackbar of our backs.” A short twitter of seemingly electrical noise filled the silence of the office. Then the COM cut connection. Oktra leaned back in her chair. ‘Amazing what is possible with a few mercenaries, some former pirates and a disgruntled, yet ambitious, fleet officer.’, she thought. And there wasn’t even a chance the Republic would ever miss a couple of ships supposedly in long term storage.

The Operations Briefing was held on the TCCOM’s Flagship the ISD Challenge. Beside the Emperor’s Hammer Squadron leaders, the COs of the support fleet were attending, thus the large conference room was quickly filling up. “The security systems have engaged, please refrain from leaving the room while the briefing is in progress.”, a senior aide babbled through the stage microphone, before fleeing from the Admiralty. Finally Admiral Elwood took the stage, joining the remaining Admiralty Board and the two Commodores.
He lowered his head in recognition of his fellow Admirals and began his introduction: “Commanders and Captains. Fellow Officers. Welcome aboard the Challenge and the briefing for Operation IRONCLAD! It has been some time since our successful strike against the pirate threat against our territories. Now we’ve received disturbing news of a renewed effort by the so called Void Raptors.” Woody motioned to a seated Admiral, “Please welcome the COO who will give you further insight into the intelligence picture!” On, that VA Crespe stood and took the stage next to Elwood, at the same time the big holoprojector in the middle of the room started up. “As you all know we, don’t have the resources to keep constant surveillance on the former strongholds of that pirate scum.” A picture of the EH territory formed over the conference table, with a surprisingly large portion colored in a deep purple. “Thus, we have a couple of rowing patrols operating. Three weeks ago a scout group went missing in one of these sectors.” The holo-picture changed again, zooming in on a certain part of the map. “Follow on efforts showed hidden activity in the area, it seems someone is trying to get those support bases operational again.” Crespe stopped for a moment and let his gaze linger on his datapad. “Normally we would not be overly concerned with such developments and would have dispatched a small task force to sweep the suspect areas. But the situation does not seem to be normal. Intelligence assets deep inside the Republican fleet have given us warning of mothballed ships seemingly going missing from storage.” He activated his datapad and held it into the air. “Please turn to page fifteen of your briefing documents and let us discuss these missing ships and the ramifications…”

On the shuttle ride back, the mood of the Hammer’s Squadron Commanders was surprisingly sober. Finally MAJ Iceman broke the quiet: “Well, hells bell. Talk about a target rich environment.” that elicited some chuckles and many grins. An even dozen frigate class capital ships and most likely scores of fighters missing from the Rebel ‘graveyard’ was indeed a force to be reckoned with. Indicating the willingness to use AI systems to supplement sentient bare-bones crews, the briefing had left no doubt that this force would also be fielded. No surprise the brass had elected to send in their elite. “Guess we need to hit ‘em fast and hard to pull of Crespe’s plan …”

Yun continued skimming through the readiness report, impassively. Yes, these former imperials were the right tool for the job, and they seemed professional enough. He handed the datapad to the men beside him. The mercenary commander might have been imposing once, but obviously he was now only a shell of his former self. No, that wasn’t right, his body might have seen better days, but the mind of that Harmon fellow was still quick. “It seems our timetable can move forward half a day thanks to your exquisite preparation, ‘General’ Harmon.”, he looked the man into the eyes and smiled, “Get everything ready. Our sources are clear on where to strike.” Gil Harmon saluted and left the bridge of the Kothlis. He marched down the corridors in perfect step, went down to the hangar and entered his personal shuttle. In the sanctuary of the private area he took a deep breath and collapsed onto his damaged knees, the pain from the re-grown lung tissue burning in his chest. This time there would be no failure. This time they would not concentrate on useless raids. This time he would make the Emperor’s Hammer pay for destroying his life.

Two TIE Phantoms dropped out of hyperspace and did a quick scanner sweep before activating their cloaking devices. After a quick visual check of his surroundings confirmed he was clear for now, Clark took an in depth look at the scan results. Delta was looking for activity near the system the EH Patrol had been lost and this was the right sector. Far beyond the entry point of the Phantoms was an asteroid field. An asteroid field that, only a few years ago, had held a supply base for the Void Raptors. Now there was hurried activity in the asteroid field. Transports carried equipment from a particularly large asteroid towards an Escort Carrier. A couple of X-Wings patrolled in a number eight pattern, keeping the asteroid in one and the Carrier in the other loop. LC Clark toggled his LOS Communication system, and waited for the electronic chirp that confirmed a connection to Delta 1-2: “Seems we have a contact, move to communication position and call in the target. We’ll proceed with OP-Plan Gulf. ”, a succession of three bursts of static confirmed that the CPT Nutrientman had received the message. On the last burst John reset the timer of his mission computer. 15 Minutes until the Hammer and an Interdictor would come in, this would be a premiere opportunity to gather prisoners. Clark checked his threat indicator and decided to move in a little closer. There was no way these guys could find him.

The bridge of the Interceptor Wrench was frantic with activity. In less a few minutes Wrench would make a hyperspace jump together with the Dreadnaught Saw and two Corellian Gunships. Gulf wasn’t a subtle plan, the interdictor would hinder movement out of the target system, and the remaining ships were more than enough firepower to scare an ESC into submission. The OPS officer lifted a hand with four outstretched fingers, and Captain Nextor nodded approvingly. The ‘taskforce’ was ready with over thirty seconds to spare. Then the hum of the hyperdrive increased in intensity and stars turned into lines and then the blue of hyperspace.

Something was off, but Clark couldn’t quite put his finger on what. The Rebels/Pirates/Whatever continued their salvage operation. Even through the dampening cloaking field his sensor suite could occasionally read COM chatter. There was the next transport moving from the ESC towards the asteroid. No wait. This wasn’t the next transport, it was exactly the same transport. And it hadn’t been on board the Escort Carrier for more than a couple of minutes. Way to few minutes to deliver anything substantial. This must be some kind of elaborate setup. Cursing John checked the mission computer, but it was already too late. His mission computer chirped and, right on clue, an Interdictor-class cruiser and some escorts entered the system. Now the time for finesse had ended. The Phantom jumped to full power, the cloaking device barely keeping up with the increased power output.

“Starting up gravity generators, everything within normal parameters.”, the XO reported. Nextor was nervous as he watched the Gunships closing in on his TAC display. But what was that? A single fighter appeared in his scanner ant it was rapidly closing the distance to the ESC. “Don’t let that stupid fighter jock ruin the intercept…” the Captain mumbled under his breath.

Turning off the cloaking device DELTA was still accelerating, Clark send out a hold position command to the ‘support fleet’ and then put all his remaining power into the scanner. The return was not what he expected. Not a single life form in the entire Asteroid field, they must be jamming him. But, no, there was a very distinct scanner result. Without regards to secrecy John pushed an all frequency call and then waited to send his hyperdrive into a two second emergency jump to the fringes of the system. Hopefully the Interdictor would deactivate his generators in time.

“GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!”, screamed the COM-link aboard the Wraith. Puzzled the COM officer turned to the XO, who addressed his Captain: “I think he went utterly mad, we show no trace of a Baradium device.” Nextor only knew this Lieutenant Colonel by reputation, but he remembered the man asking some intelligent questions during the briefing on the Challenge. “Activate deflectors, emergency shutdown the gravs, then get us a solution out of here.” The crew did just that with puzzlement. Seconds later the Escort Carrier disintegrated. And then the Asteroids closest to him followed suit. A fireball expanded through the system, a shockwave leading it’s path. Captain Nextor saw the Gunship farthest from him being hit by an asteroid, it’s splintering hull turning into shrapnel being hurled towards the Wraith.

A light on Yun Vandorack’s command chair turned from green into red. One of his traps had just sprung. Excellent. He knew the Imperials simply couldn’t not investigate that location with full force. He checked his pad for the copy of the EH operations manual. Not much longer than six hours and he would have destroyed the crème de la crème of this stubborn imperial faction. Peace and liberty in this sector was only a question of time now. Time to aim and fire Gil Harmon and thus break the ground for that liberation.

The first thing Lieutenant Colonel Clark realized was that he was missing his flight helmet. More and more sensory input returned, until he was positive that he was lying on his back in some infirmary or other. He opened one eye slowly, peeking through his eyelashes. A faint figure in ISB White stood at the edge of his vision. Clark opened both his eyes full: “What, in the emperor’s name, is going on?”, he exclaimed to the room. Into his vision stepped an old friend, LC Diaboli, former TC pilot and now full time lent to the EH’s Security Bureau. Clark was a little distressed seeing his friend’s cybernetic eyepatch, raising a hand to his head to make sure he wasn’t missing something. “Seems you saved an invaluable TIE Phantom from certain destruction.”, the familiar face cam a little closer, “Only to almost make it lost forever with a poorly executed emergency jump.” Diaboli’s face changed and a crooked smile appeared. “Thanks to the valiant men of the Wraith you and the Phantom are back on the Hammer. And, apparently ready to fight.” He held out his hand to help his mate up, Clark took it and stepped on the cold deck. “From what I’ve gathered we need you both in fighting shape, ASAP.”, Diaboli explained, “I must be gone on some ISB business for a while, but I think the fleet will see action soon.”

“To be honest, Ma’am, it’s a mess and I wouldn’t trust more than the gist of most of these preliminary report.” Hammer’s senior intelligence analyst told Admiral Dempsey. “While I do agree that a multi megaton Baradium fission device has detonated in the sectore, I don’t I don’t believe that this was a botched attempt at taking out one of our ISDs.” Dempsey pondered that for a while before speaking: “I agree Major, this smells like some type of setup.” She turned to the XO: “Prepare for a jump to the fringes of the system, and prepare a return jump ASAP.” The admiral made some quick calculations: “After the jump make a call that we will be going to General Quarters in 60 minutes. Tell the pilots to get a meal and some rest, I want the whole Wing ready.”, she lifted her hand in a dismissive gesture, “Oh, and also tell the Warrior.”

A blue whirlwind and then white lines turned into stars again. An Asteroid field filled the view from the bridge of the Strike Cruiser Defiant. But there were not only Asteroids around; the large triangle shape of an ISD II-Class Star Destroyer was also easily visible. Some escorts were arranged deeper in the Asteroid field, but Gil Harmon’s battle group had expected exactly that.
On a preplanned command the fleet started it’s attack run. Dreadnaughts and Modified corvettes formed the bulk of Tiger fleet. But the fist of the fleet were the Defiant and her two sisters, Daring and Dauntless. The whole fleet was supported by swarms of alphabet fighters. “Allright, Green Wing, hit the TIEs hard and keep them of the Y-Wings as long as possible without risking yourself. Blue Wing proceed as planned towards the escorts. And Red you’re clear for free hunt.” The work had already begun for the fighter controller aboard the Defiant.

As they had been trained Wing IIs pilots maneuvered to intercept the attacking bomber’s first. But even Sin Squadron’s advanced missiles were to slow to hinder the first wave of Wishbones from firing their torpedoes. Frantic activity ensured, with TIE Advanced and Defenders sharing their attention between attacking fighters and Proton torpedoes hurled towards their battle group.
Further complicating the situation was that the Y-Wings seemingly lacked any instinct for self-preservation. The attack wings were decimated twice a minute but still held their positions and continued firing. So far the fighters and attack craft were mainly a problem for Warrior’s escorts, with VSD Decimator taking the brunt of the Y-Wings proton torpedoes. But with the attacker’s capital ships now incoming and pushing through that battered screen towards the Warrior herself, it was time for a little support.

Clark’s Phantom didn’t even had it’s paint scratched during his escape from the Bomb. Moments before the Hammer and Wing II had been ordered to General Quarters. But that was half an hour before the planned GQ that had already been announced. Johns maintenance chief gave a thumbs up and a smart salute. Then the TIE Phantom was lowered onto the launch ramps just in time so it’s Pilot could see the Hammer exit Hyperspace. A shudder went through the fighter and within seconds it was accelerating and invisible, with throttles to full power and the cloaking generator active.

“The second Star Destroyer has just arrived, it’s not with any escorts.”, reported the XO. Gil nodded in acknowledgment. “Launch the last AI wings and signal the reserve.” The Mercenary commander smiled. Everything was going to plan.

“Alpha you’re in against these freshly launched Y-Wings, Beta and Epsilon counter these DREADs.” John heard through his COM, “Delta: you’re in general melee, take out as many fighters as you can.” With his objectives clear, Delta’s commander switched to the squadron COM line: “Three and Two, stick together and concentrate on heavy assault craft. One we’re dissolving to take out single fighters and elements.” He waited only a second for the replies. “Razors, let’s cut some meat of these fellows!”

In her mind Admiral Dempsey thanked the skeptical Intelligence officer. Had the Hammer been in system when the Opposition arrived things would be much more difficult. Wing I was the strike element of the TIE Corps, and already the strike squadrons were advancing as planned. Just why did these three Strike-class cruiser sat so far back the line of battle?

Clark scratched the third kill of the battle, an A-Wing, and was maneuvering to get into position for his next. A quick check of his scanners showed that Delta was working as he had intended. Flight one had already destroyed an even dozen enemy fighters, while the other Flights were wreaking havoc on the B-Wings that had engaged the Imperial escort and support ships.

“The package is away as planned, sir.”, Kothlis’ Captain told his Admiral, who was admiring the live feed from the battle. Yun Vandorack checked his chronograph against the planned jump time of his surprise package. “The trackers were locked before we launched?” he requested from his Operations officer for the umpteenth time. Just to receive a reassuring nod for an answer. “Then it’s our clue to make a getaway.”, the Admiral shrugged his shoulders apologetically: “Set course back to Coruscant.”

Finally the Strike cruisers had moved and were aggressively advancing towards the Hammer. Though no match against an ISD by themselves, as a group they proved a considerable danger to the battle damaged Star Destroyer. “Alpha, call in missile complement and prepare to engage the STRK designated Sierra Seven.” Before MAJ Iceman could acknowledge a flicker of pseudo motion revealed two heavily modified Dreadnaughts jumping into the system, right in between their advancing siblings.
Admiral Dempsey was confused, “Give me a detailed scan analysis!”

These things looked like DREADs modified for heavy armor and shielding. And they were heading right for the thick of the battle. Clark gave in to a hunch and reduced his weapon recharge rate to power up his scanners. It never hurts to be careful “Delta disengage and get close to the Hammer. Something’s not right here.”

“Delta reports traces of Baradium radiation from the DREADs and Colonel Clark has already ordered his Squadron to stay clear.” INTEL reported, “I think we should make that a general order, Ma’am.” Admiral Dempsey gave the man a look: “You think?”, she grinned, “Make that order and signal the Warrior.”, more sternly, “Concentrate long range firepower on these ships.”

Gil Harmon was hunched together on his command chair, this was his support? But he had been promised a couple of MC 30c Frigates and some full wings of Fighters. Sithspit, he had seen this strikeforce around the Kothlis. This muscle packed joke of an Admiral had betrayed him. But now his eyes and his final course of action was clear. “Order Daring and Dauntless to keep formation we’re hitting the closest ISD.” He looked up again on his tactical display, even if he wouldn’t live he would kill these rotten TIE Corps. “Sir, we’ve got another incoming.”, Tactical reported, “Another Dreadnaught, this one right on top of us!” “WHAT THE …”

“…HELL?” In a flash of light the latest arrival disintegrated in a massive Baradium fusion explosion, shattering the three STRKs that just had begun heading towards the Hammer. Seconds later two more sun-like explosions filled the system. Admiral Dempsey was thrown to the ground by the sudden shudder of her Star Destroyer. Grapping on her command chair she lifted herself back to her feet. “Status?” she asked breathlessly.

Clark was sitting next to his Fighter on the return Hangar. Wings I and II had been extraordinarily lucky with no permanent casualties. The retreat order had come just in time to prevent scores of fighters and élite pilots being incinerated. A large portion of the two Star Destroyer’s support fleet had not fared so well. A number of smaller escorts had severe damage or were simply gone. John stood and found Dunta Polo waving him to follow the other Squadron Leaders. A fist-bump to his Chief and Clark walked after his counterparts, wishing for a drink and some logic behind that situation.

“…stressing that the use of banned weapons of mass destruction is not acceptable under any circumstances, the minister urged the Senate and the Governing Council to no longer ignore the threat posed by rogue Imperial factions in the galaxy.” Oktra Prisk'ia’s Holo-receiver muted automatically as the doorbell of the luxurious apartment chimed. Annoyed Prisk’ia switched to the door camera, to see the picture of a man in an expensive suit who held up a small camera drone. “Councilor, my name is Ruwen Dankkar from HNN’s political office. May we have an interview about the imminent emergency meeting of the government?” Oktra hid her smile - this was beginning sooner than she had hoped.” She stood as she unlocked her door. Strange, she hadn’t noticed the cybernetic eye of the reporter before.

Vandorack had returned to report immediately, but found himself waiting in vain. The Councilor wasn’t coming, and he didn’t know why. Though he had been ordered not to see the Bothan in her apartment he simply couldn’t wait any longer. Luckily a hover-cab was waiting right outside, and it took only minutes to reach the exclusive apartment complex. Vandorack rode up the lift to the Councilor’s floor, and was surprised to see the door ajar. He drew his pocket blaster and entered carefully.

An anonymous call that someone was trying to assassinate a Republican Councilor demanded some response. “Yeah right, must be important if they send only you.”. Ivar Da’enko entered the Apartment complex and produced his ID to the Doorman/Droid. Equipped with the right apartment number and an code-chip for the door he took the boring ride up. The Police Officer drew his sidearm, as he found the door to the apartment wide open. A moment Ivar pondered whether he should call reinforcements first, but then decided against it. If this was just a misunderstanding he wouldn’t want to be responsible. Silently the officer entered the apartment blaster at the ready. The councilor was a Botha, so everything else was fair game to be asked questions later. Most rooms were dark and empty, but in the back a light was shining out of an open door. Da’enko advanced, and found a humanoid standing hunched over what appeared to be a Bothan body. “Security Service! Hands up”, the man was large and muscular, and virtually jumped at the scream before he turned, clearly a blaster pistol in hand. Ivar had no choice and two blaster bolts to the chest left two bodies on the expensive carpet.

Smiling Colonel Diaboli exited the Hover-cab and walked toward the exit of the parking garage. Less than four hours until his connection to Corellia would leave. Luckily that Vandorack fellow had appeared just in time. He checked a nearby Holo-monitor for the latest news. Breaking news were a shootout and two dead in a luxury condo in the governmental area. Good that he wasn’t any way near that.

"An incursion by New Republic Forces into EH area" by Commander Len Eode (bonus entry)

Part I: The Briefing

Len entered the mostly empty briefing room meant for the entire staff of Wing II, but was today set up for much less. All of the screens in the room were red which indicated that the computer was locked until a commander entered an authorization code. Len approached the podium and looked out over 6 other pilots of his Squadron. For weeks they had been practicing, honing their skills for what they assumed would be nothing more than pirates. Today they would learn their true mission. Len inserted his code cylinders and locked them in place, the screens turned green as the doors leading into the briefing room locked.

“Good morning gentlemen,” Len started of cheerfully, “This meeting is classified Level A-2, nothing is to be discussed about our mission until we hit space tomorrow.”

There was a murmur around the room.

Major Valic spoke up confused, “A classified mission against pirates? What’s going on here Commander?”

Len put a hand up gently, bringing the room to quiet. He nodded, “As the Major pointed out, this is not normal procedure,” he returned his hand to the podium, “most of our anti-piracy operations are carried out with no secret. However several weeks ago, Intelligence reported this to the SOO’s and COO’s offices.”

Len changed the display to show a grainy gun camera image of Nebulon-B Frigate alongside a Mon Calamari Cruiser.

“The image has been authenticated, that is Admiral Ackbar’s personal flag ship, Home One.”

Len noticed several pilots locking their jaws at the sound of that name, Ackbar’s fleet had killed not only the Death Star II but also the SSD Executor.

Captain Talra asked the question on everyone’s mind, “When do we go after that son of a bantha, boss?”

A chorus of affirmation followed Crix’s question. “Language!” Spiffy clucked at his fellow Flight Leader.

Again calmly raising his hand, Len spoke “I know we all want to take a shot at him, but that isn’t our task,” dead silence followed, “Instead, we are tasked with finding that frigate. Which is a pirate vessel that we believe is acting as a courier between the NR and pirate forces.”

Advancing the slide to a planet profile Len continued, “The planet EH-4596, a water land planet in the middle of the EH territories. Lush jungles, harsh cold poles. Perfect place for the ‘New Republic’ and the pirates to get comfortable.”

There was a change in the room, it’s like someone had left open a conduit and the charge was building.

“Intelligence has identified three targets,” Len activated the targeting overlay over the planet, “One is a landing platform with enough X-Wings to outnumber Wing II at full strength. Two is a hypermatter reactor, which could create enough hypermatter to power the entire EH for a decade. The third and final target is the headquarters and barracks of this facility.”

“I thought our objective was the frigate? What are we doing with them?” Spiffy asked confused.

Len Smiled, “This is phase one of the operation to capture the frigate. In this phase, Command wants us to provide take air superiority by destroying all the fighters before they can take off. Shifting roles we will then provide close air support for a ground invasion that will secure the hypermatter facility and anyone in the command center. Phase two will begin when the frigate arrives. The frigate is the closest vessel the pirates have, it will come to extract the leaders of this cell. Once it arrives, we will approach and destroy this.”

The slide changed to a side profile of a Nebulon-B frigate a small surface was flashing red on the forward column of the ship.

“What you see glowing red is the life support umbilical port. When one of these ships puts up for repairs, this port is connected so that life support can be refreshed. However if we can destroy the hatch and the environmental controls, the entire ship will depressurize,” Len finished.

“Would have been nice to know that during the war,” GN Mirtez sighed, “What do we do after the ship is depressurized?”

“We are to protect the ship,” Len replied, “a transport will arrive and take control of the ship. Its call sign is Echo 3-4-9. If it does not reply with that call sign and continues to approach, destroy it. Are there any questions?”

Some head shook no, others continued to stare at the screen. “Good. We set out in 12 hours at 0545. Remember, we are not discussing this after I take my code cylinders out and the room unlocks. This mission could prevent a full scale invasion by the New Republic. Failure could spell the end for the EH and the Empire. We are,” Len shouted snapping to attention.

“THE SUM OF ALL FEARS!!!” All of Sigma shouted back as they all snapped to attention.

“Dismissed,” Len said quieter than normal. We really are doing this, aren’t we? We’re going to kill the New Republic, if we do this right we can catch…

“Corellia to LEN!” Spiffy shouted from across the room where there was a massive pile up at the door.

“Yo,” Len said looking up.

“You forgot to unlock the doors laser brain,” Mike chuckled.

Len laughed as he removed his code cylinders, the screens went red and the doors unlocked. He waited until the others had left and the door closed behind them. HA Frodo March stepped out from the back of the room.

“Well done, Commander,” Frothy said with a smile, putting his hand on Len’s shoulder as he gestured for them to walk towards the front of the room.

“Thank you sir, I don’t like it though. Having to leave out the most important detail,” Len replied.
“It’s best that they don’t know the full extent of the New Republic influence on those pirates. Knowledge that Mon Mothma will be present is reserved for command only at this time.”

“Understood sir,” Len replied.

"Shadow War" by General Jarek La'an (bonus entry)

The outer office bustled with quiet, efficient activity barely audible beyond the glass doors leading into the Fleet Commander’s private sanctum. A trio of Flag Lieutenants compiled material ready for a scheduled report, massaging unwieldy statistics and figures – supply tonnages, manpower estimates, refit schedules and countless more reams of data – into headlines capable of rapid delivery to a cabal of Admirals, a group usually big on ideas but short on attention-span. A stern-faced Commander maintained a steady watch for anyone even considering troubling the calm, glancing from time to time towards her junior officers as if expecting trouble or a need to mediate.

Rapier was aware of none of this, his perception of the office around him little more than a general awareness of the cool air circulating from the fans, the sun setting over Aurora casting a warm light through the transparisteel viewport taking up the entire southern wall and casting long shadows. He regretted that offices and meeting rooms seemed to fill his time these days, more a political animal than ever whose time in a cockpit or stood at the centre of an operational combat bridge was little more than a distant memory. He sat staring at the readout on his screen, the rolling text of intelligence briefings and estimates painting a troubling picture of the situation within EH space. The Void Raptors had been a persistent concern, albeit one that the bulk of the civilian population had never been aware of. The reports and rumour mongering from merchant and chartist captains and traders had been effectively stifled, while the rapid action of the TIE Corp’s task groups had shut down most of the operational threat. However even now the occasional attack or convoy raid would be tracked to an old Raptor base or network of contacts.

Troubling didn’t quite cover the potential danger – a resurgent New Republic had once again turned its attention towards the Emperor’s Hammer, a rare period of relative quiet in the surrounding sectors threatening the continued stasis and ceasefire of recent years. Intelligence and security operatives seemed to be pointing towards the NR as the agency behind the recent attacks, their use of the Void Raptor name little more than a sham cover for a provocative, proxy war. Inaction would doom the EH, but overt action would run the risk of open confrontation with the vast NR – a war that the EH, despite allusions of grandeur and a desire to regain lost empire, could realistically never contest.

The only way forward was a delicate one; a short, rapid strike at the units and persons using the Void Raptors name – hopefully sending a strong message to the NR that the EH was too thorny a foe to be stirred into action. The citizens of the NR would never support a pre-emptive strike, but if the EH were to be lured into acting first and crossing the border then the hawks amongst the NR’s armed forces and government would have every cause to finish the Imperial enclave off entirely. The rapid removal of any NR forces and assets from within EH space would send a clear message and prevent any escalation. Rapier paused to stretch out, long hours at this desk having taken their toll.

A limited campaign in scope and scale. Not enough units to resemble an invasion-scale force – NR intelligence was undoubtedly as effective as his own and any fleet movements would be rapidly reported. A short, sharp engagement – the units being drawn on would be needed elsewhere soon enough. Four weeks should do it, four weeks to finally burn the last of the Void Raptors and any NR infiltrators out of whatever hole they were hiding in. In the end the public would never know, the NR would be warned off and the delicate balance of power within the EH would be maintained – the civilian government and military powers remaining united.

“Commander, request an update from the TIE Corps – I’d like to see their figures again. Bring forward my 1500 and bring in the Intel Director afterwards. If he tries to tell you he can’t make it remind him who the Grand Admiral is.” He eased back in his chair, noting the Commander smile as she stood from her desk, moving beyond his narrow view of the outer office and heading for a secure comms unit.

“That was a little unfair, Intel have never been busier – the Director has even had the annoyance of an assassination attempt in the last 24 hours.” The figure sitting in Rapier’s plush conference area turned from his view of the glowing sunset. SA Havok continued, “The press were told that a sub-basement has been collapsed by an auxiliary reactor overload, very unfortunate, poor design and so on. Reality is that one of the unlisted monitoring posts got hit by what I’m told was a thermal detonator that must have been in place for days and triggered remotely. Worrying, but more so as it was having an unscheduled visit from the Director himself. I know you believe in co-incidence about as much as I do.”

“They’re playing with fire. They must have got wind that the fleet taskings have changed, if they’re trying to take out our intel set-up then they want to blind us to whatever they’re doing. Regardless I still need to see the Director and figure out just what the TC can expect to face. Pell and Elwood are confident but neither have any desire to throw their units into a meat-grinder, a trio of ISD’s might once have been acceptable losses but those days are long gone.” Rapier considered Havok’s news for a moment, contemplating the sheer planning needed to stage a brazen attack within Aurora’s government district.

A sharp tone broke the silence, the comms unit in his desk signalling an incoming transmission. The holo-projector quietly hummed into life, a blue cone of light quickly forming a trio of seated figures – the background that of an Admiral’s quarters, presumably those of the ISD Challenge.

“Grand Admiral, TC Admiralty Board reporting as ordered” Elwood’s voice crackled for a moment, a wash of static momentarily corrupting the signal as cycling encryption made their conversation private. “We’re just over 8 hours from operational starting point and on schedule.”

“Excellent, your units are in position?”

“All forces are deployed and manoeuvring into place as we speak, maximum discretion has been maintained thus far. The Hammer and Challenge are using the ionising fields from a pulsar to stay off the grid. The Warrior is following a highly publicised route as part of a shakedown, reality is that she was fully operational days ago. Elements of her task force will maintain the public route to delay any observers, but as soon as we get the execute signal the Warrior will microjump, correct and launch straight into her assault on the primary target.” Elwood’s voice was steady, little betraying the excitement in his heart at the thought of leading the TC into their first combat engagement since succeeding Bonini as TCCOM. Pell sat calmly to his left, another new appointment keen to make his mark. Crsepe was an old-hand, relaxed and well used to these tense hours before the start of a campaign.

“Good, everything is proceeding as planned. Intel will provide a last brief prior to the start of action, for now at least the threat assessment is minimal – they won’t be expecting a direct action, while their units are largely scattered in an attempt to maintain their facade as a mere rebel group. Your greatest threat unit is likely a VSD, but indications are that heavy fighter concentrations may be expected. I won’t lie to you, there will be losses but if you stick to your training and react to events as I know you can, then our victory should be swift and assured.” Rapier allowed his confident tone to offer no other alternative, keenly aware that all four Admirals knew full well the risks and the standards he expected.”

“Projections are light, around the 5% mark, but enemy strengths will struggle to recover their footing from a strong first-strike.” Crsepe contributed quietly, raising his head to meet the gaze of Havok and Rapier. “There’s not going to be a better time.”

“Agreed. Good luck gentlemen, I’ll expect your next update as we execute.” Rapier closed the comms link down and turned to Havok, his XO nodding gently to signal his approval of the TC’s report.

“Sir, your next appointment is here, Moffs Jeroda and Kantor with their update on shipbuilding outlays and launch dates.” The Commander’s gentle voice cut through on the intercom. Rapier glanced through the doors at the waiting figures. He allowed a momentary smile, he may have become a political animal but this was simply another battlefield.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Crsepe and Pell turned to look at Elwood, watching as the TCCOM stood from his place behind the dark, polished wooden table filling the conference room. They said nothing as he turned to peer through the armoured transparisteel at the sickly waves of light cast by the system’s pulsar. Odd shades of green and white threw momentary shadows and distorted the outline of the ships filling his view. The Hammer seemed to dance in the light, its outline almost shimmering, while between them a collection of frigates, freighters and escort vessels reflected odd rays of light or disappeared in shadow. He turned back to his fellow TC Admirals.

“You heard the boss, next update at the execute point. We’ve got 8 hours to do whatever we can do to improve the odds. I’m happy with Dempsey’s last report, her squadrons in particular look good to go. I’ve not seen the last report from the Warrior, has Frodo been able to confirm readiness?”

“It arrived while the FC was talking, Frodo confirms full operational readiness. The Mithras and Cardinal will continue the work-up package, the Subjugator will hyper in to cover the absence of the Warrior and keep any observers unawares while she redeploys to the op area. Subjugator is running on a skeleton crew so we can keep her in place for around 12 hours until she’ll need to return to her refit in the yards.” Pell smiled, pleased with their deceit, a classic bait and switch albeit on a much grander scale.

“Excellent. If we can cut the heads from this hydra in one swoop it should make the next 4 weeks far less costly. Until I see a fully sourced update I’m going to expect heavy resistance and act accordingly. The NR may well be trying to wage a shadow campaign, but that doesn’t mean they won’t have moved more serious assets into place – this isn’t going to be a gang of untrained Uglies, armed freighters and vintage frigates.” He glanced at the chronometer on the bulkhead behind the SOO and COO. “The Warrior should be making their redeployment soon.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“More drills? I’ve heard of long work-ups but this is ridiculous, we’ve been good to go for weeks, what the hell is command playing at?” The complaining pilot was roundly scorned by his colleague, their talk devolving into the usual fare of TIE pilots throughout the fleet. La’an looked away and scanned the rest of the pilot lounge, a lively space off the Warrior’s main hangar – designed to keep pilots comfortable at a high alert readiness and at the minute crowded with the bulk of the four squadrons not tied up in a combat patrol or maintenance runs.

His fellow CMDRs presided over their squadrons, the newly promoted Colonel Plif taking a particular delight in his new insignia, to the ridicule of his Flight Leaders. Major Repulsor looked to have been drawn into an overcomplicated discussion of tactics by his pair of Lieutenants – cutlery, datapads and at least one plate were being used as props in the retelling of some distant battle honour. Commander Eode sat with a pile of datapads on the table in front of him, a cooling cup of recaf in one hand as he scrolled personnel files with the other. His squadron was still under strength and he clearly had every intention of finding pilots to fill it with.

Theta thankfully didn’t have that problem, since it’s recommissioning it had become something of a home for a large number of veteran pilots, carrying an almost ridiculous array of senior ranks across the three flights. His own recent promotion had at least made him equal to the other Generals in the squad, both of whom appeared to be playing the Corellian version of Sabbacc with Tempest, by which he meant he could see all three cheating from across the room.

He knew better of course, indeed most of the veteran pilots had picked up on the signs – the increase in drills, reallocation of supplies, uplift in maintenance. They were all signs of an impending engagement, not a peacetime shakedown cruise. The lounge was quieter than usual, the mood a little more introspective. A briefing would follow, a tasking to be explained and orders issued, the hot rush of combat and then the lengthy post-action debriefs and the post-adrenaline crash. Standing, he rolled his head to stretch his aching neck. Getting old had never been part of the plan, perhaps not old by a civilian standard but certainly in comparison to the sea of young faces in their black flight suits. So many of them untested in combat, so few of his old friends still standing. He snapped out of it as the intercom switched to transmit, cutting over the background music and giving way to the nasal tones of Colonel Frown, the less than beloved Wing Commander of Wing II. He couldn’t help but smile as a clatter announced a dozen thrown missiles hitting the bulkhead in a vain attempt to cut out Frown’s voice, some reminder to maintain paperwork and something about personal responsibility.

The veterans may have misread the situation, La’an may just have become more cynical and less trusting, but all the same he resolved to run an extra set of rounds on Theta’s craft in the next few hours. He tuned in to the intercom broadcast as it drew to a close.

“...of course as Imperial officers I can expect you to deliver all triplicate forms as mandated in Standing Orders. Failure to do so will lead to disciplinary action, that is all.” Thankfully the music regained control and the lounge swang back into life as La’an headed for the door.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The ship stole forward at minimal power, coasting through the edge of the system’s gas clouds as it’s passive sensors strained to pick up any signs of activity or communication. The stained and pitted hull of the Nebulon-B belied the gleaming condition of the ship within, operational and well crewed. From the outside she could be mistaken for a relic of the Civil War, likely owned by a minor gang or trade syndicate as an escort. The reality was far more sinister, a vessel working for a more ambiguous master, one of a small fleet of similar ships crewed and run by the intelligence agencies of the New Republic. Finishing her passive sweep the frigate nosed back into the gas clouds, a short encrypted comms burst over a short-range frequency confirming that their entry point was clear.

Deeper within the clouds the infiltrating NR force continued to wait, ready for any signal that EH forces had commenced their assault on the alleged Void Raptors and ready to launch their own counter-engagement in turn. War would come again eventually, but all the better if the conflict started sooner and the EH could be held accountable for it, Imperial warmongers forcing the Republic into self-defence –all it would take would be a single ship pursuing a “Raptor” unit that little too far over the border. Until then they would wait and watch...

"TIE Fighters from the Imperial Star Destroyer Warrior battle with NR Rebels" by Commander Keth Aalith (bonus entry)

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bonus fiction entry by Lieutenant Archenksov

Lt. Yazok Archenksov woke up in agony. Shivering, but soaked in sweat, it took a moment before he was able to register anything but the pounding in his head. Eventually, he tried to sit up but immediately collapsed, overwhelmed by dizziness. Elshandruu Pica Thundercloud, he thought to himself.

Eventually he recovered enough of his wits to roll over on his side and look around the room. Archenksov was on a bunk, in a cell, in the cleanest jail he'd ever seen, at least from this angle. There was a courtesy medkit mounted near his head, and after he worked up the will to open it and pull an oxygen mask over his face, the badly hungover pilot tried to piece together what had happened.

The brass had been antsy for weeks. There were rumors of some major operation. Archenksov had received a discrete message from Vice Admiral Pellaeon, his predecessor as Alpha's third flight leader, suggesting that he us his leave time before the first of the month. Back when Archenksov was a pilot for the Imperial Remnant, he'd developed a habit of taking leave on neutral worlds, with bootlegged Republic liquor and exotic women of loose morals. That, Archenksov remembered, was his plan this time as well. There was a cantina, just outside of Hammer space. There was some hellishly potent liquor. Some drunken, slurred nonsense about the evil of Palpatine and the Sith. Some equally drunken, off-key singing of songs from COMPNOR's Sub-Adult Group youth retreats. A bar fight. A massive bar fight. Something involving pirates? Droid Raptors? The lieutenant took a moment to stagger over to the fresher to vomit.

No, Void Raptors. He'd gotten into a fight with Void Raptor pirates, and lost it, at least judging the pain he could now feel under the layers of alcohol poisoning.

Despite his ill-spent youth, Archenksov didn't have much experience with jails, but he thought it was usually standard procedure to check on the prisoners every now and again. He'd been conscious for several hours, long enough to get past the worst of his hangover, and hadn't seen anyone. He could tell he was in space by the low, constant hum of the hyperdrive that was felt as much as heard. The cell was immaculate, far beyond what he would ever expect from a pirate brig. It was actually somewhat impressive. Eventually, the hum stopped. A moment later, claxons sounded a red alert and the ship started shaking from what felt like torpedo fire. The shields started to fail. It was not how he planned to die.

Hit after hit wracked the vessel, and once they started impacted the hull Archenksov got a lucky break. One of the hits destroyed something critical to the forcefield keeping him in the cell. He got to his feet and started running, through shining white corridors and past men in New Republic naval uniforms. Yoda's seed, he thought. Where the hell am I?

Back in the Remnant, Archie's wingmen had talked about how he was the next Soontir Fel. At the time, he thought he was really that good. It wasn't until he got sick of Moffs and politics and defected to Grand Admiral Rapier's fleet that he realized how low the bar had been set in the Remnant. They would take anyone who could get a TIE out of a hanger and back in safely. At first Archenksov was indignant that Hammer had forced him to go through IWATS training before letting him fly, but now he was incredibly thankful that Admiral Montte had made him memorize New Republic ship schematics with the other cadets. Within moments, he got his bearings and was in the hanger. The ship, a heavily modified Nebulon-B, was falling apart, but there was still an unattended X-wing available. Archenksov jumped in and started the launch procedures. He reflexively held his breath as he cleared the hanger's shield. He'd never get used to flying a starfighter without a mask on and halfexpected the vacuum of space to suck the air right out of his lungs as soon as he was clear of the frigate.

All hell had broken loose in front of him. They'd arrive in the middle of a strike on the frigate's home base by what appeared to be the ISDII Warrior. Without Imperial codes programmed into his communications systems, the lieutenant was just another target. Better make this good, he muttered to himself, and redirect all power from weapons and shields to lasers. He'd still have enough to get several shots off, and hopefully it would be obvious he was flying like a TIE pilot.

As he got closer to the Warrior he saw a flaming A-wing diving down towards the bridge, trying to pull a Crynyd while a TIE Defender tried desperately to shoot it apart. Ever since Endor, every Rebel pilot with more guts than sense had taken to steering his fighter towards the nearest Imperial Captain when it looked like he was about to be taken down. Archenksov was coming up from below. He switched over to missiles and fired two, not bothering to get a lock first. They hit the A-wing for forward and tipped the flaming wreckage up, and the shatter pieces skated right between the Warrior's sensor domes.

Archie cut throttle a looped his stolen craft over, stopping just before colliding the the Warrior's bridge himself, close enough that he had a clear view of the bridge crew. He saluted with a grin and hoped someone over there could read lips. “Permission to come aboard, sir?”

"Encounter at Bie'Lek" by Commander Hawkins

Chapter 1

Sergeant Redren was almost knocked sprawling as the crate behind him shunted forwards, rocked by the impacts of several heavy blaster shots. He glanced over his shoulders, engaging the holographic vision processors system embedded in his helmet. Data flooded in from all his squad mates and, despite the solid bulk of the crate behind him, a green-tinged vision of the hanger beyond was clearly visible. The multi-limbed battle droids were advancing slowly across the open deck, laying down a barrage of suppressing fire whilst closing on his position. Redren braced himself as more fire rattled the crate, and he wondered if it could protect him much longer.

“Sinistra, Ikesony – Detonators, on my mark,” he barked. Their affirmation replies were instant, and he watched, waited, as the droids approached.

“Mark!” he shouted, a moment before the droids stepped onto what his projector showed was a service hatch built into the floor of the hanger. The thermal grenades showed up as a red warning icon as they arced across his vision towards the droids. Sensing the threat, the droids turned, directing their fire towards the fallen support beam Sinstra and Ikesony were covering behind. He stood, bringing his own blaster to his shoulder. He targeted the ‘head’ of the nearest droid, hoping to damage its targeting array, and scored several good hits. Damn, these things were resilient.

Without the need for orders, more blaster fire came in from the far side of the hanger - Yifanth and Hekat adding the weight of their own fire to catch the droids in a cross fire. Targeted from multiple sides, the droids took a second too long to process the most efficient response and the detonators erupted at their feet. The droid nearest Redren was torn in two, the lower half melted and blasted apart, whilst the torso was flung towards the back of the hanger where it crashed into an inactive heap. The doors of the service hatch were torn open by the detonation, and the second droid tumbled down the hole. The Sergeant leapt over the barrel, switching his vision mode to MFTAS, enabling him see amongst the smoke and heat left by the explosion. He rushed over to the edge of the ruined hatch, and sprayed the darkness below with rapid-fire blaster rounds. His targeting systems searched for the droid, but even they were unable to detect any threat in the darkness and smoke below. Not wanting to take any chances, he unclipped his own detonator, primed it, and tossed it down. He stepped back, and waited until the vibrations of the detonation died away.

“Squad, form up.” The four other members of his team closed on his position.

“Time?” Redren asked.

“Two minutes twenty until extraction,” replied Ikesony. Redren turned, and moved towards the back of the hanger.

“Those droids held us up for too long, we must be quick.” Redren said as the squad headed towards the control room overlooking the hanger. He quickened into a run, and the squad fell into a wellpracticed formation behind him. An open doorway led to a short, spiralling staircase up to the control level, which ended in a sealed bulkhead. Yifanth, a Duros who’s technical skills had been honed during his time as an unauthorised arms trader before his enlistment into the Stormtrooper corps, went to work on bypassing the security lock. It took him only seconds.

“One forty five,” Ikesony muttered as they entered the control room, keeping track of the time left. The squad fanned out – Yifanth turned and covered the way in, whilst Sinistra and Hekat moved to the windows overlooking the hanger. Ikesony followed Redren over to the main console.

“Downloading data now,” Redren said, drawing a holodisk from his belt and inserting it into the console. The programs encoded on the disc immediately activated and began downloading the data that was their primary objective.

“Sergeant! Hanger deck, there!” Sinistra pointed with his blaster. Reden looked to where Sinistra had indicated. A glowing, bubbling line of melted deckplate was snaking its way across the hanger floor, beginning to trace the outline of a rough square.

“Time to go,” Redren called, as the holodisk ejected from the console. He tucked it into his belt as he turned and led his squad back towards the hanger.

No sooner than had they stepped into the hanger, a loud klaxon wailed once, and the spot on the deck Sinistra had indicated kicked upwards. Redren felt the impacts through his boots, and a moment later the deck section launched towards the ceiling. The second battle droid clambered through the hole, its laser cutter still glowing at the end of a secondary appendage. One of the droid’s arms hung loose at its side, sparks spluttering from a torn servo mounting, but the other turned a stillfunctioning heavy blaster at the Stormtoopers.

“Kriffing droids...” Redren growled as he brought his blaster up and dashed for cover. The squad scattered behind him as blasts tore into the deck where they had entered the hanger.

“Its aim is off!” called Yifanth, “We should have been shreadded by that shot!” The shot had seemed pretty accurate, but Redren knew better than to question Yifanth’s knowledge of battlefield technology.

“Will is be able to adapt?” He replied.

“Unknown. It depends on whether its combat processors are undamaged!” Yifanth shouted back.

“Thirty five seconds!” Ikesony grunted, sliding into cover behind a loading crane. The squad needed to get to the extraction transport now, and it would be tight if the droid couldn’t be incapacitated quickly.

“Detonators?” Redren asked.

“One left,” Hekat replied, the sound of heavy blaster fire almost drowning him out. Redren stood, firing towards the droid, and drawing its fire towards him. Yifanth had been right, the returning shots were pulling to his left, and the droid was struggling to correct its aim. That would give him the seconds he needed.

“Use it, and when the detonation goes off, move to the transport.” Redren ordered.

Hekat primed and threw his detonator towards the droid, who immediately moved away, reacting quickly to avoid further damage that would reduce its already diminished combat capabilities. That was the chance they needed. The squad broke cover, and dashed towards their transport. The explosion behind them caught a container within its blast, causing it to burst apart. The secondary explosion rocked the floor and, ahead of Redren, Sinstra tumbled forwards as he lost his footing.

“Get on your feet, trooper!” Redren growled, pausing to drag Sinstra upright. The deck beside him shuddered as blasts from the droid tracked towards them. “Move!” Redren shouted as the shoved Sinstra towards the opening hatch of the transport.

Chased by blaster shots, the squad hurtled into the transport as a siren began a steady countdown. The transport was already lifting off the deck and heading for open space as the entry hatch began to close. Redren ducked as a final flurry of blaster shots acted as a parting gift from the droid, and impacted ineffectively on the hull of the transport.

Only a moment after the transport left the hanger, Ikesony slumped into a harness-chai, and simply said, “Time.”

Commander Asus Haytha watched as the Stormtrooper transport left the station hanger, and turned towards the Aedgillis, a Nebulon B Frigate in service to the Emperor’s Hammer, part of the Imperial Star Destroyer Warrior’s Battlegroup. He weaved towards it, his TIE Advanced nimbly dodging the debris left over from the many antiquated starfighters that had protected the station and attempted to prevent the Stormtroopers ever reaching the hanger. They had failed. The Z-95s the unlicenced refinery operation has fielded in its defence had been pitifully maintained, and the pilots were clearly no more adept than an Academy rookie. The only surprise had been their numbers. Every worker in the station must have jumped into a cockpit and came out to try and fend off the boarding action. He had taken an impressive kill-tally today, the highest in his flight group, but he still felt slightly aggrieved that some of the glory had gone to his fellow squadron members. He smiled to himself – nothing like a bit of friendly competition to keep your skills sharp, he thought. Especially when you win. His only regret was that the challenge level had been poor.

The squadron had been able to jump in close to the station, gaining the element of surprise. The illegal refinery had been aboard a re-purposed factory station. The Emperor’s Hammer was in great need of resources, and confiscating that owned by criminal scum was a legitimate way to resupply. It had been an ideal field test for Rho squadron, now they were nearing the end of their proving manoeuvres – escort a small squad of Naval Stormtroopers onto the station. They were to gather an inventory, and detain the gang leaders. The rest of the personnel would be put to work for the benefit of the Hammer. Instead, they decided to fight. The fools hadn’t even tried to talk their way out of it.

In what would have been an embarrassingly slow time for an Imperial squadron, the refinery launched a flight of Z-95 Headhunters – a painfully antiquated craft these days. Even with shields, a single TIE Fighter could take several on at a time, never mind a flight of TIE Avengers. The first wave had been destroyed before they had gotten a klick from the hanger, and at least one of the next flight destroyed itself flying into the wreckage of those who had preceded them. And so it would have gone on, had a third wave not exited a hanger on the far side of the station and attempted to catch the Imperials unaware. They had, of course, failed. Ions had spotted them as they approached, and had broken to engage. However, the distraction was enough to let more fighters escape, until the three members of flight Three were outnumbered almost five to one. With additional fire coming from the stations turbolasers, the squadron pulled back, drawing the fighters away from the weapons cover of the station. A true rookie mistake. By that time, the Stormtrooper Transport was already en-route. The flight covered it as it made for the station. The Z-95s had swarmed all over it, but quick work by Suhail had turned each attack wave back, enabling Haytha and Ions to pick them off. Once cleared, a few passes at the station had destroyed enough turbolaser turrets to allow the Transport to reach the station safely. The squad amused themselves picking of the remaining turrets whilst the stormtroopers were inside. They had been allocated five minutes to gather the inventory data and capture the leaders. They had barely made it out within the allotted time, and Haytha wondered what had kept them. He cared little for Naval Stormtroopers, viewing them as beneath him, but they were usually an efficient group. They rarely cut things so close.

Haytha’s intercom buzzed.

“Rho 2 and 4, form on the Transport” Colonel Ions, Haytha’s flight leader, ordered, his voice slightly distorted by static. Lieutenant Colonel Suhail responded quickly, boosting his engines from his shield energy to get into position quickly.

“Two to Four,” Haytha called into his intercom, “Always first to do as the Colonel calls. Quite the lap - dog.”

“I can’t help how slow you are, Two,” Suhail replied, bluntly. Haytha smiled. There was no riling Suhail – he was as stubborn as a bantha. Yet, skilled with it. Despite his jibe, Haytha knew the speed of Suhail’s responce to the order wasn’t to lick the boots of his flight leader. He was just that fast. It irked Haytha that the only reason his kill count was higher today was because Suhail had done a better job of escorting the transport. Every Z-95 that approached was quickly turned away by Suhail, and any warheads launched shot down before he turned to the next incoming fighter. This had left Haytha and Ions to take down the fighters as they retreated to recharge their shields. At least Haytha had out performed Ions in that! He laughed. Friendly competition, he thought.

The flight formed up and Haytha had an opportunity to do a quick inspection of his squads conditions. Not one amongst them had been left with less than 50% shields. He frowned slightly when he noticed Suhail’s shield strength was already back to full strength. Had he recharged them already, or could it be he’d not taken a single hit? Haytha doubted that, but couldn’t entirely convince himself that it wasn’t a possibility. Despite being a member of Rho, a newly re-formed squadron still completing their initial active field trials, Suhail was an incredible pilot. Haytha would bet on Suhail over any pilot in the Emperor’s Hammer TIE Corps. Except perhaps for himself. Suhail may be skilled, but Haytha felt he had an edge when it came to having the will to win, the drive to take that extra risk that would snatch victory from even the most accomplished foe. He had yet to beat Suhail in the simulators, but then that was just playing – not the real thing.

Next time, Haytha thought, recalling Suhail’s last jibe, we’ll see who’s slow.

Chapter 2

“Sergeant. Two seconds to spare. Cutting it close today, are we?” Commodore Chimaq, Commander of the TIE Corps Naval Stormtroopers aboard Aedgillis, asked, looking hard into the eyes of Sergeant Redren.

“The objective was achieved with no losses, Sir,” Redren replied. “The time taken reflects this.”

“So you say in your mission report, Sergeant.” The Commodore took another moment to read Redren’s report. Redren stood at perfect attention, looking fixedly at a line in the plating on the far wall. He fought back a frown as he considered the irony in Chimaq’s attempt to unnerve him by making him wait, whilst apparently preparing to reprimand him over his own lack of pace. Chimaq looked up.

“Do you not feel the objective could have been accomplished more quickly?” Chimaq asked, quietly.

“Not without losses, Sir.”

“Then you admit that it could have been achieved more quickly.” Chimaq was not asking a question.

“Sir, as you will have seen in my report, the battle droids protecting the hanger were resistant to blaster shots. The only way to take them out was to take the time to draw them into a position where we could use our detonators effectively.” Redren stated.

“And did you succeed in taking both droids out, Sergeant?” Chimaq’s tone was full of forced hopefulness.

“No, Sir. As you know from my report, Sir.” Redren replied, gruffly.

“No, you did no,.” Chimaq sighed. “Sergeant, please tell me how this mission could have been completed more quickly and, please, no more ‘not without losses’. You have made that point already.”

“The only way would have been to sacrifice two, perhaps three of my squad. They could have distracted the droids long enough for two of us to retrieve the data, but there would be no way they would have survived. And then there would be no guarantee there would not be at least one left for us to deal with on the way back.” Redren tried to keep his tone calm, but was sure his frustration was showing through. The Commodore raised an eyebrow, quzically.

“And you would be unable to handle a single battle droid, Sergeant?”

Redren hesitated. His whole squad had only succeeded in taking out the single heavy droid between five of them. Could he have done it with just two, maybe three troopers left?

“No, Sir, I could handle it. With losses, Sir.”

“Losses are a fact of war,” The commodore stated, placing the report down on the tablebefore him and turning to gaze out towards the station in the distance. His face glowed green for a moment as another barrage of turbo-laser fire lanced towards the station. The Aedgillis had turned its guns on the station, and it would soon be reduced to scrap. Chimaq watched as secondary explosions silently ripped through the station, causing plasma and gas to vent into space.

“Ikesony and Yifanth,” the Commodore continued, “They would have been quite suitable to take on the droids, under the supervision of Sinstra or Hekat, perhaps.”

Ikesony and Yifanth, Redren thought. The ‘non-humans’ – a woman and a Duro. There was a time when women and aliens would have never been allowed to serve as Stormtroopers, but that time passed decades ago. As the cloning facilities were lost, and the resources of the Imperial remnants became more stretched, more and more troopers were enlisted from the civilian population, and the requirements for entry relaxed. The forces of the Emperor’s Hammer, and the Naval Stormtroopers attached to its TIE Corps, were no different. And so Redren’s squad now featured a woman and an alien, a Duro. Both had proven themselves countless times in service to the Emperor’s Hammer Naval Stormtrooper Corps, and here they were being singled out as the best options for playing the sacrificial nerfling.

“The NhMs, Sir?” Redren asked, pointedly.

“Sergeant, that is not an appropriate term,” The Commodore said, dismissively. “I of course meant that Yifanth’s experience with battle tech would make him a suitable candidate, and I have no doubt that Ikesony is a most capable trooper, is she not?”

Redren hesitated. The Commodore had a point, but something in his manner told Redren that there was still more behind Chimaq’s politically-correct front.

“You are correct, Sir. Both have very useful qualities, Sir, that would be lost to us were they to be sacrifced, Sir.”

“Sacrificed, Sergeant? A strong term indeed. I merely suggest that the best use of resources does not always mean you get those resources back. Consider this before your next mission. You are dismissed.” Chimaq didn’t turn to dismiss Redren. He simply stood, bathed in the light of a dying space station.

“Sir,” Redren turned, and left.

In the corridor, Redren stopped to gather his thoughts. His mission had been a success, he’d returned with a full squad, and he’d just been hauled over an ion engine because he might have been able to be a few seconds faster. He smiled, bitterly. Imperial Officers. They never change.

Chapter 3 (bonus entry)

Admiral Elwood sat behind his desk, facing towards Vice Admiral Pellaeon, and the holographic projections of and Vice Admiral Crsepe and High Admiral March. He glanced around the room, pausing to review each member of the Admiralty Board, and the guest at this particular table, High Admiral Frodo March, Commodore of the ISDII Warrior Battlegroup. Each looked intensely focused; a look he knew came from the thought of their upcoming operations against the New Republic.

For all their talk of peace, the Republic had began to make inroads to territory that the Emperor’s Hammer considered their own. There had been a long political dispute over the systems that bordered the space controlled by the Emperor’s Hammer and that of the New Republic – both sides claiming that they fell under their jurisdiction. Until now, the matter had been left open, neither side prepared to move on the matter, either politically or militarily. The Rebublic had enough trouble with other Imperial Remnants, and could little afford to open another front against a force they had a long standing non-aggression treaty with. Nor could it be easily afforded by the Emperor’s Hammer. The fleets they commanded were formidable, but many key assets were frustratingly unavailable. The SSSD Sovereign had long been under refit and was not yet battle-ready. Several front line fighter Squadrons remained under full strength.

Nevertheless, it became apparent that Republic citizens were moving to colonize habitable planets within the disputed borders. Elwood had wondered whether this was simply the ignorance of foolish prospectors, unthinkingly blundering into a politically volatile area, heedless of the danger, or whether it was a clandestine move by the Republic to establish colonies that would re-enforce their claim on Imperial systems. There was an outside possibility that this was, in fact, the first play in a new military deployment – the Republic preparing bases from which to launch attacks deep into Emperor’s Hammer territories, though Elwood doubted it. The Republic was less bold than they had been when they were still called ‘Rebels’. However, it would be foolish to assume anything but the worst, and so plans were now well underway to repulse the Republic advances with a show of force that would ensure the Republic never dared cross Imperial borders again. Or, at least, police their own imbecilic citizens more efficiently.

Elwood could see these same thoughts passing across the faces of his comrades. It would be his prerogative to make them wait until he was good and ready, but such hubris had been the downfall of the Empire, and he would not allow the Emperor’s Hammer to suffer such ignominy. He addressed the assembled officers.

“Admirals, I regret to have drawn you away from your current operations, but there is a matter we need to discuss.”

“Our forces are all fully prepared for the assault upon the New Republic infringements into our territory, Admiral. All other operations have been concluded, and we are on schedule to arrive in our target system. What other matters are there to discuss?” Asked March, a hint of anger held only just in check within his voice. Perhaps it was a trick of the holographic image flickering as the data was processed and transmitted over barely imaginable distances, but Elwood doubted it. March was a proud Admiral with an enviable battle-record to uphold. Any distraction from that effort would no doubt be a source of frustration for him.

“We have found the Eldridge.” Elwood replied.

The room went silent. The hum of the holograph projectors was suddenly unusually loud and intrusive.

Pellaeon was the first to break the silence.

“Has anyone attempted to contact Fleet Admiral mBind? Has the Phoenix been contacted?”

“Ender is not available.” Elwood replied, curtly. “We must deal with this without him.” Once more he reviewed those he had gathered together to share this new data with. The same intensity of thought was still there, but it was now tinged with an edge of dark curiosity.

“Very well,” said Crsepe, after a long while, “Where is she?”

“As you are aware,” Elwood began, “The Emperor’s Hammer has redirected its efforts towards the expulsion of New Republic forces from our territories. Prior to this, we had been scouting out areas of the outer rim for potential colonisation and resource acquisition.”

“We are well aware of our previous operations, Admiral.” March interrupted. “And our current operations are pressing. The Warrior has a great deal to accomplish on behalf of our fleet, and I do not wished to be delayed from attending to those duties, not even for the Eldridge.”

“Your dedication is commendable, Admiral March,” Pellaeon said, “And no one is questioning the contributions of the Warrior to the Emperor’s Hammer, nor do any of us wish to be delayed from our current missions.” He turned his attention towards Admiral Elwood, “and so, Admiral, I am sure you can reassure us that this diversion is of the utmost necessity.”

“Quite so,” Elwood replied, and then continued “A probe sent to investigate an uncharted asteroid belt close to the galactic rim discovered what appears to be an abandoned mining facility. The probe was alerted to its location by some highly irregular energy signatures - signatures that match those of the Eldridge.”

“Can we be sure they are from the Eldridge?”asked Crsepe.

“Not entirely,” Replied Elwood, “But the signatures are too alike to ignore. We must investigate, and if the Eldridge is found, recover it. The secrets it holds would not only ensure we can repulse this, and any future, New Republic advances, but tip the balance of power across the entire galaxy in our favour. We are all aware of the potential here, gentlemen. I would have not have called you here otherwise.”

“Our fleets are almost entirely deployed in preparation for our forthcoming operations. What do you suggest?” March asked.

“We must send an investigation expedition,” said Crsepe, “Verify if this is indeed the Eldridge. This cannot wait. If there is even a remote possibility that we could use the technologies the Eldridge contains to aid us in our battle against the New Republic, it must be retrieved quickly. To delay may cost us an opportunity to make an emphatic statement against the Republic.”

“Agreed,” replied Elwood. “Retrieval of the Eldridge at the earliest opportunity must be a top priority, and I can see we are in agreement that it would be desirable to do so with such alacrity that would enable us to put what we recover to use against this latest Republic threat.” Elwood waited to see that each admiral was prepared to accept his words. Crsepe and Pellaeon were already nodding the accent. Elwood turned to the projection of March.

“Admiral March, what are your thoughts?”

March understood the implication, and smiled to himself.

“I think my Battlegroup could be of assistance in this matter. Besides, we need to give you all a bit of chance to reap some glory. I can spare the Aedgillis, perhaps a corvette or two, but no front-line squadrons. They are already tasked for our upcoming operations.” March said, firmly. “Rho, Squadron, however, are just out of their proving operations and are currently aboard the Aedgillis. They were to report to the Warrior to act as a reserve, but I am confident their services can be put to other uses.”

“You are most generous, High admiral,” Elwood replied, smiling as he filled his voice with exaggerated graciousness. “Then it is agreed. The Aedgillis and Rho Squadron will be tasked to investigate the mining operation, and report back. Can I leave you to brief them, Admiral March?”

“Consider it done.” March smiled, and cut his projection.

The three remaining admirals sat for a moment, each lost in their own contemplation. The implications of rediscovering the secrets of the Eldridge were too tantalising to ignore, and the strength the Emperor’s Hammer would gain by having such a ship under their control once more made it all the more urgent.

A chink of glass broke the growing silence in the room. Elwood placed three crystal tumblers on the desk before him, and poured out a measure of Seikohsa Liquor into each. He stood, and handed one to each of his fellow admirals, before resting back against the front of his desk.

“Tell me,” Elwood said, in a voice that was utterly empty of the weight of the matters just discussed, “How are the preparations to welcome our Republic neighbours advancing?”

Chapter 4 (bonus entry)

Major Regor, the newly appointed Squadron Commander of Rho Squadron, stood beside Briefing Officer Thom on the Flight Deck of the Aedgillis, reviewing the orders that had just arrived from the Warrior, his fists clenched in frustration. Despite Rho squadron being just out of field trials, Regor had hoped for an assignment that would offer the opportunity for glory, for his squadron to prove their worth as a squadron of the TIE Corps.

“We were supposed to report to the Warrior - see some action against the Republic. Now we are surveying asteroid belts?” Regor’s voice has hard. Thom looked at him with interest.

“Are you dissatisfied with your orders, Major?” He asked, calmly. He had served the Emperor’s Hammer for many years, and served in the Imperial Navy before the Empire had fallen. His long experience had taught him that starfighter pilots were an aggressive, ambitious breed, never happy unless they had a target to kill. A piece of space debris was hardly going to satisfy that need, and so he sympathised, to an extent.

“No, of course not,” Regor replied, his tone betraying him. “I am simply keen to serve where our skills can be put to best use.”

“And Admiral March has decided this is where that is, so be satisfied.” Thom told Regor. “You will be more satisfied in a cockpit than in the reserve pilot lounge aboard the Warrior. Her squadrons are most capable, there is no guarantee that your services would be required.”

Regor sighed, straightened himself up, and stood to attention before Thom. The Major out-ranked Thom, but he respected him, never-the-less. His council had been of service to Regor as he took on the role of Rho’s commander, and had helped him to form the squadron into a battle-ready unit.

“Very well, Thom. You are correct. Let’s get the squad in and brief them.” Regor pressed a button on the briefing plinth console, and the squadron sauntered in, standing in rows according to their flight position, facing the briefing screen.

“Squadron,” Regor announced, “I have important news. We are not to be deployed to the Warrior’s reserves.” He paused, attempting to judge the reaction to his pronouncement. The pilots under his command exchanged glances, but seemed alert and ready for whatever came next. He smiled, almost imperceptibly, as he considered the questions that must be flooding each of their minds.

“We have instead been ordered to remain on the Aedgillis, where we will be deployed to the outerrim, on immediate active duty.” Regor continued. “Briefing Officer Thom will provide full details.”

“Thank you, Commander.” Thom stepped to the podium and directed his attention towards the viewscreen before the pilots. The screen hummed to life, and displayed a holographic map of a star system, before zooming in to what appeared to be a small planetoid in the midst of a wide asteroid belt.

“A deep space probe has made an unexpected discovery; an abandoned space station close to the Galactic Rim.” Thom manipulated the controls, and several icons were highlighted. The probe was noted, as well as the planetoid. “Your squadron has been tasked with the identification and inspection of this unknown facility.”

“So, rather than serve with the Warrior against the Republic, we are inspecting abandoned stations guarded by rocks?” asked a voice. It was Haytha, which failed to surprise either Regor or Thom.

“Indeed,” replied Thom, his tone steady with practiced uniformity. “Such rocks are often the bases for pirates or smugglers, who use the galactic rim as a haven from Imperial Law.” Regor was impressed. This wasn’t part of the mission data, but was true enough, and Thom was experienced enough to both know it was pertinent to the mission, and a hook to capture the interest of his pilots. Rocks may be of no interest, but blasting pirates had potential. Thom turned from the screen to direct the squadron directly.

“The Emperor’s Hammer has been seeking to strengthen its position through the acquisition of systems and resources. This system, the Bie’Lek system, features an extensive asteroid belt and a number of small planetoids. Data from the probe suggests the area may be rich in doonium. We suspect that this is the reason for the establishment of the base in question. However, its abandonment is a mystery. Perhaps it has been taken over by the aforementioned pirates. Perhaps it was considered too remote to be viable for trade purposes. Whatever the reason, such a resource cannot be ignored. We have been ordered to determine if the site is still viable, and clear out any... undesirable... occupants.”

“The system is still a long way off, why are we being briefed so early?” Ions asked.

“Taking the Aedgillis all the way to the Bie’Lek system is unnecessary. We have aboard a small number of recon Xg-1 Star Wings, each fitted with additional fuel storage for additional hyperspace range, at the expense of room for a full missile load. You will fly these craft ahead of the Aedgillis, and determine if the site is worthy of further exploration.”

“That’s a long jump, even so...” Ions responded.

“That is why,” Regor interrupted, “I have requested the use of the Cantor – the corvette that has been attached to the Aedgillis for this deployment. She will carry us half way, and we will complete the journey from there. The Aedgillis will follow as and when she is required.” That seemed to satisfy Ions. Thom then continued with his briefing.

“Any pirates and smugglers operating from such a location tend to use older starfighter variants – Z-95s and R-41s. They may also have adapted transport vessels for a more aggressive role. Such ships may be a threat when flying a slower craft, such as the Star Wing, so be prepared.”

“Dog fighting in gunboats. Always a joy.” Said Haytha. “A good pilot can use any ship to the best of its abilities to achieve victory, Commander Haytha.” Suhail’s voice was flat, almost monotone. Haytha scowled. Regor looked carefully at Suhail. His face was impassive, but there was a gleam in his eye that betrayed him.

“Quite so, Suhail. So, for this mission, what would you prefer? A Gunboat, or a shuttle?”

“Shuttle, Sir, if one is available. It will be good to show Haytha how easy it is to outfly him, in any craft.” Now, even Suhail’s usually stony-expression began to crack. Haytha looked from Regor to Suhail, realisation dawning, before blurting out a short laugh and punching Suhail in the shoulder.

“Alright,” Suhail continued, his voice as dead-pan as ever, “with one arm then, Haytha.”

“Enough, enough,” Regor interjected, smiling at his squadron. “You will all get the chance to prove your worth. Yes, Suhail, even Haytha. I suggest you use the time before launch in the simulators. Re-familiarise yourself with the gunboat’s capabilities. Dismissed.”

The squadron saluted, turned, and exited the briefing room – Haytha attempting to goad Suhail into some form of outburst, and failing, as always.

“Commander, a word?” Thom asked quetly. Regor watched the squadron leave, and the door close behind them, before turning to Thom.

“Yes?”

“The mission, Sir. May I offer some council?”

“Always, Thom. Speak freely.”

“All other exploration missions I know of have been cancelled, Sir, and the vessels involved redirected to the operations on the Republic fronts. We have been redirected from the Republic fronts back to exploration. There may more to this mission that we are aware of.”

“Such as?” Regor asked.

“That I cannot say, Sir. But to be redirected so suddenly, and in apparently the opposite direction of the current thrust of Emperor’s Hammer operations... Just ensure you are prepared for something more than pirates.” Thom saluted, and turned to leave. Regor watched him go, before turning to the viewscreen, still displaying the Bie’Lek system.

“We can but hope,” he said, quietly.

Chapter 5

Sergeant Redren’s blaster hammered into his shoulder, dispensing fully automatic rounds down the length of the target range. The target drone, a small, hovering, spherical droid, danced around the beams of incoming fire. Redren had it set to the highest difficulty setting, making the task of destroying it essentially impossible. It was said the maximum level had been programmed to be a challenge for those talented in the ways of the Force, and that only an advanced student of that ancient art would have the ability to successfully destroy such a fast moving, responsive target. Redren was determined to destroy one at that setting. He’d once scored a hit, but the target survived, dodged back into its housing and was replaced with a fresh drone. Redren was under no illusion. He was no Jedi or Sith. He was just a trooper. But frell it, he was going to be a good one. He tried to picture Commodore Chimaq’s face on the drone, hoping it would inspire him to be more accurate. Ultimately, it was more of a distraction. He was also annoyed, meaning his margin of error had increased, acorind to the data read outs on the target range control panel.

Redren had been looking forward to returning to the Warrior. His fellow Naval Troopers all felt the same. Chimaq seemed a relic from the old order of things, not reflective of the more recent glories the naval troopers had achieved in service to the TIE Corps. Had he been back on the warrior, he would have been leading space-born assaults, boarding actions, capture operations. Those flyboys in the TIE Corps may be the poster boys, but it was the Naval Stormtroopers who would be called in to recapture the stations, platforms and other orbital installations the New Republic had shown the gall to try and steal. Whilst they flew around in missile boats capable of taking out a whole fleet, he would stand toe to toe with the Rebublic and beat it down with fist and blaster.

Now, he was stuck here, headed for the Rim. His best hope? Pirates. Sure, they were ok out in space, but in a boarding action? They relied on fear to make any opponent they faced to surrender before a shot was fired. How would they react to organised, well trained and well equipped Naval Troopers? They’d be a walk in the park. Kriff, even Chimaq could take them. On his own. And Redren wouldn’t bet on Chimaq against a ewok pup.

“Krelling Pirates...” Redren cursed, and went back to blasting at Chimaq’s floating head.

---

High Admiral Frodo March reviewed his strategic map, a holographic, three-dimensional projection hovering in front of him. Highlighted in a blue cloud were those systems the New Republic had either infiltrated, colonised or captured that the Emperor’s Hammer considered their territory. Lyarna, Phare, and others were surrounded by green icons, indicating known Republic forces. Republic forces, thought March. Rebel forces, that is what they were. The Emperor’s Hammer had officially recognised the New Republic in the Pellaeon-Gavrisom Treaty of 19 ABY, but March knew he was not alone in still considering the Republic to be Rebels. He wondered if anyone in the Emperor’s Hammer didn’t view them this way.

He turned his attention to the red icons, indicating the disposition of the fleets under the command of the TIE Corps. With a gesture, he selected those of the Warrior Battlegroup. A number of red icons glowed more brightly, whilst the remainder dimmed slightly, highlighting those vessels under his command. He studied their positions carefully, making minor adjustments to their positions as they readied themselves for the battle to come. Orders were automatically transmitted to each vessel, showing their new orders and co-ordinates. He knew that each would be in place in a matter of hours and then... then they would show the Rebels the full might of the Emperor’s Hammer.

One group of icons stood out – a tiny cluster far from the Republic front. He watched carefully, his practiced eye noting the almost imperceptible movement of the icons across the star map. With a pinching motion with his fingers, the map zoomed in, holographic star systems flowing past as the view closed on the two small, red icons – the Aedgillis and the Cantor. A flick of the wrist and the map flowed forwards, tracking a path to their destination – the Bie’Lek system. Was this where the Eldridge was hiding? After all this time?

His mind warred with itself, thoughts moving like a starship engagement. A thrusting proposition met with a counter attack of rationality or scepticism. If they could find the Eldridge, recover her secrets, then repulsing this Rebel incursion would barely be the beginning. Such a hope moved like a Super Star Destroyer, punching through lines of Rebel defences, right to the heart of the galaxy. But experience had taught March a great deal, and he was quick to reign in his mental forces. Deal with the tasks at hand. The future can be plotted later.

March cancelled the map, and switched to the holographic communicator.

“Admiral Elwood,” he stated. He stood, collecting his thoughts for a moment, before the communicator chimed and an image of Admiral Elwood materialised before him.

“Greetings, High admiral,” Elwood said, his voice clear despite the distance between them.

“Admiral,” March replied, “the Aedgillis and her support vessel are closing on their objective.”

“Good, good.” Elwood spoke slowly. March felt a pang of nostalgia at the intonation of the expression, a remnant of the days of Emperor Palpatine – the real one, and not one of the many clones that had followed him and suffered equal ignominy.

“Do they know what they seek?” Elwood asked.

“No, I deemed the information too sensitive. If they find anything, they will report back. Then we will know if the Eldridge has been found.” March replied.

“Is a recovery operation in place?”

“Yes. Agamemmon Utility Squadron has been attached to the Strike Cruiser Mithras. They are standing by to deploy to the Bie’Lek system, or move to support our forward positions if they find nothing but asteroids.”

“How quickly can we utilise any technology we recover from the Eldridge?” Elwood could not disguise the relish with which he held this possibility. March sympathised.

“That, we do not know. I have spoken to High Admiral Dempsey, and she believes that if the technology is recoverable, her team will be able to make it viable. How quickly will depend on the condition of what is recovered. Of course, we could be sure of a quick implementation if we could aquire the services of mBind...” March trailed off, hoping for a sign that this may be possible. Elwood appeared unmoved.

“That route is closed to us, for the time being at least.” Elwood said. “We must manage with the resources to hand. Keep me informed of any developments.” And with that, the connection was cut.

March stood a moment, allowing himself the luxury of contemplating various futures. The moment passed, and he turned to his communications screen, and began to review the many, many requests for his immediate attention.

---

The simulator shook as laser fire strafed his shields. Commander Haytha shunted power from his fully charged lasers to his shields, and reduced throttle, putting his gunboat into a tight spin, trying to pull his opponent into his firing arc. A voice crackled over the simulated intercom.

“Don’t waste laser energy recharging shields.” Suhail’s flat voice spoke with the authority of an experienced pilot. “Redirect your shield energy to your engines. Speed is a better defence than your shields, and the improved engine efficiency will reduce your turning circle. You can evade enemy fire and bring your target into your sites.”

Haytha didn’t respond, but did as Suhail suggested. His shield indicators registered a slow drop in shield integrity, but a noteable boost in speed. Yanking the stick to the left, the craft banked sharply, before rolling on its axis and going into a tight spin. A stream of laser fire passed by the cockpit before tracking behind his craft. In a moment, the target craft, a simulated R-41, was in his front view and closing fast. Haytha pulled into an erratic roll, evading the incoming fire, and at the same time linking both of the laser and ion cannons. Just before he passed, he cut across the nose of the R-41, and squeezed his trigger. The quad-blast slammed into the front shields of the bandit, which sent the craft swinging wildly away, attempting to avoid any further hits. Haytha pulled round, positioning his craft directly behind the R-41. Two more quad-blasts took out its shields, and damaged the hull. Its speed dropped away as energy was furiously redirected to the shields. It was a sitting duck. Switching to missiles, and without waiting to gain a full lock, Haytha released the missile directly into the engine block of the enemy starfighter, ripping it apart.

A green message began flashing in the centre of his view field – Primary Objective Completed, it flashed. Haytha ended the simulation. The enclosing lid of the simulation chamber rose, letting the light of the training room flood in. Haytha climded out, and walked towards Regor and Suhail, who were already running through his combat play-backs.

“Here,” said Suhail, pointing at the screen, “The Star Wing is to slow to out manouver the Z-95s unless more energy is directed to the engines. Haytha was lucky not to lose it there. A real opponent might not be so forgiving.”

“I still took them all out. Six Z-95s, all at once, all by myself.”

“Yes,” said Regor, looking thoughtful, “but those were on a medium difficulty setting. That final R-41 was set to maximum difficulty, and had Suhail not corrected you, it was well position to take you out.” There was no reprimand in Regor’s tone, simply professional interest. They would all be flying these cumbersome assault gunboats into a potential combat zone. Every piece of useful flight data might save their lives, destroy an enemy, ensure victory.

“You over estimate its chances, Major,” Haytha said, confidently.

“And you underestimate them, Commander.” Ions called over from his own viewscreen, his eyes never leaving the play back of his own simulated flights.

“Anyone care to prove me wrong?” Haytha demanded.

“Gladly,” replied Suhail. “Remember, I won’t be advising you, this time.”

“I’ll cope, somehow.” Haytha retorted, already heading for his simulation pod.

“No doubt,” Suhail called after him, heading for his own pod. Within a minute, two gunships were weaving around each other, each desperately trying to take out the other, whilst simultaneously dealing with incoming waves of simulated Z-95s and R-41s. 10 minutes later, the pods cracked open, and the two pilots emerged. Haytha stepped out of his pod, laughing.

Ions walked over to Regor, who already had the two play backs running side by side.

“So, I take it you won, Haytha?” Ions called.

“Against Suhail? Frell, no. But it was close!” Haytha jogged over to the screen, and pushed between Ions and Regor, scrutinising the twin playbacks. “Look at that move!” He said, pointing to Suhail’s screen, showing his own craft darting away and out of Suhail’s target reticule.

“It was a good move,” Suhail commented, moving up alongside his fellow flight members. Haytha didn’t look away from the screens, captivated by the dance unfolding before him.

“And that was a nice piece of flying!” Haytha pointed again to Suhail’s screen, but this time indicating a move Suhail had pulled that had almost flipped his gunboat on its end, bringing Haytha’s gunboat and an oncoming R-41 directly into his line of fire, taking out both in short order.

“I’m glad you approve.” Despite himself, Suhail could not prevent a small raising of the corners of his mouth. Haytha slapped him hard on the shoulder.

“Next time, Suhail. Next time!” Haytha grinned.

“As you say,” Suhail replied, quietly, and headed back to the simulation pod.

---

The Cantor dropped out of hyperspace near the edge of an uninhabited system. It hung silently in space, visible only by the lights of the view ports, and floodlights illuminating sections of hull. It drifted gently onwards, the residual momentum of the hyperspace exit. Silent bursts of stabilising thrusters steadied the ship, before six small craft exited the hanger bay and turned towards the Galactic Rim. Six flares of light, followed by blurs of movement, signalled their departure.

Chapter 6

The six gunboats dropped into the Bie’Lek system, several klicks from the edge of the asteroid field. Regor’s flight took the lead, heading in-system, with Ions’ flight following close behind.

“This is Rho Leader to all ships,” Regor began, “both flights, close on the station. I’m picking up a good deal of debris. Maintian your shield integrity and set scanners to maximum power. Keep an eye out for bandits.” The squadron called in their affirmations.

“Flight Two,” Regor continued, “you inspect the debris field. We’ll take the station. Watch for proximity traps within the field.”

“Aye, Sir,” Ions replied, as Flight One peeled off towards the asteroid station. “Flight Two, I’ll take the freighter, Two, take the containers. Three, cover us.”

Ions’ flight closed on the debris field. Wreckage drifted in a slow orbit around the massive asteroid at the centre of the field. Most of it was unrecognisable - pulverised by the harshness of space, or lumped together as large chunks drifted together, and held in place by their weak gravity. However, here and there, a piece was familiar; a shuttle cockpit, the wing of some old starfighter. Beyond the debris field, the remains of what must have been the service area around the asteroid station. A cluster of Type A containers hung motionless, and yet in disarray. There was no order to their positioning. A bulk freighter spun slowly around its central axis, one of the rearmost container pods missing, whilst a shuttle sat locked to a service tug.

Ions and his wingmen passed cautiously though the debris field, finding no traps, no hidden sensor nets.

“This place is dead...” Haytha signalled.

“That may be the case, but keep your eyes and sensors open. Let’s not get caught unawares.” Regor replied.

“Scanning the freighter,” Suhail announced. “Its designation is the ‘Furuseth’. No detectable cargo, just the normal spare ship parts.”

“Readings for the shuttle are coming in,” Ions responded. “The ‘Berlitz’, cargo... none. Wait. Organic matter detected, but no life signs, no atmospherics. Frell, nothing but bodies, several of them from these readings.”

“Like I said. This place is dead...” Haytha’s voice was bereft of its usual, casual self assurance. This was a dead station, and it sapped the humour from them all.

---

Regor’s flight flew tight across the surface of the asteroid, scanners directed deep within its core. They weaved around rocky prominences, and dived through ravines.

Regor’s intercom crackled to life, “One, this is Two. Am detecting some strange energy signatures. Faint, but definitely there.”

“Confirmed, Two,” Regor responded. “Triangulating – source is a further eighty degrees around the surface. Follow my lead.” Regor changed course to head towards the energy source. So far, they were the only promising sign on an otherwise empty station. His sensors detected a great wealth of doonium still within the rock, so why did the miners leave?

“Coming up on the signal,” Three called.

“Arfirmative,” Regor replied. “Eyes open.”

As the three gunboats crested a ridge of ore-veined stone, they were suddenly illuminated by the distant sun of the Bie’Lek system. Its light glinted off their hulls, and they stood out like sparks in the darkness.

Regor spoke quietly into the intercom, “What the krell...”

Before them, apparently lying upside down and embedded into the surface of the asteroid was what could only be a Star Destroyer. Its distinctive arrowhead shape was unmistakeable, but the hull was patterned with all manner of unusual structures.

“Is that some sort of interdictor?” Two asked.

“I’m not sure,” Regor replied. “There are domes like the gravity well generators, but look at the venting systems covering them. And those smaller arrays covering the prow, I’ve never seen anything like them. Begin a scanner sweep.”

The three gunboats passed low over the hull of the strange starship, their scanners attempting to pierce the strange hull.

“I’m getting some wild readings here, Sir. Never seen an energy signature like this.” Three reported. “Wait, something more... the power signature is fluctuating, I think?”

“I confirm, Three.” Regor spoke quickly. “Hold position here. Flight One to flight Two, close on my position. We’ve found some kind of Star Destroyer embedded in the asteroid. Getting all sorts of odd readings.”

“Flight Two en route, Sir.” Ions responded, his voice crackled with distortion. Was that due to the asteroid between them , or the energy readings from the wreck below?

“Sir!” Two shouted, “Energy readings climbing rapidly! Something is definitely happening.” Regor looked from his own scanners to the vessel below. Lights were coming on across the ship, and suddenly the outline of the craft flickered; hazy, like an object seen through a wave of heated air.

“Move away, it may be powering up its shields,” Regor ordered. They gained height about the asteroid’s surface. Regor switched his viewer to his rear view.

And did so just in time - a hail of green blaster fire flew up from the vessel directly towards the climbing gunboats, filling his view screen with flashes of light.

“Evade! Evade! Evade!” Regor barked the order, shunting power to his engines and slamming his ship over onto its port wing and diving away from the incoming fire. His flight members followed suit, but Three was a moment too slow. Several shots impacted his shields as he turned, causing crackles of lightning to arc across the rear shielding. A lesser craft would have been ripped apart by such a barrage, but the sturdy gunboat held together.

“Where is the fire coming from? The ship?” Two called over the intercom. Regor looked, and he was astonished to find it was not the ship, but a wave of TIE fighters barrelling towards his flight, firing as they came.

“Incoming fighters, break and attack!” Regor commanded. He hit his targeting key on his flight stick, ordering the computer to target the nearest attacking TIE. Nothing. He did so again, and still, nothing. He hammered though the targets on his screen, desperately rolling away from the incoming fire. The asteroid station, freighter, containers, all flashed across his screen. But he could not acquire a lock on the incoming TIEs. He looked to his sensor scopes, and they appeared empty. A thundering jolt proved reality to be otherwise.

“Sir, I can’t...” Two began.

“I know, krell it!” Regor interrupted, dodging more fire. “Use your eyes!” Regor turned his ship towards the incomg vessels and boosted his engines, rolling wildly towards them. Every time a TIE passed before his vision, he hammered the trigger, sending busrts of laser fire towards the TIEs. One was hit, and spun away towards the asteroid’s surface. He had no time to watch it impact.

“Two, Three – close with the fighters, boost your engines. They have no shields, even standard laser charges will do damage. Use your shields to boost your lasers if and when you need to.” Regor dodged and weaved, but even then the nimble TIEs were scoring hits. He took two down with a hail of fire as he spun past them.

“Three here, I could use some help!” Regor heard. At least Three still showed on his sensors. He turned towards his wingman, and saw him spinning away from two perusing TIEs, their blasters tracing a line between them and Three. As Regor raced after them, he saw Three’s shields collapse in a burst of energy, and several hits rock the rear of his craft.

“Hold on, Three!” Regor called, and squeezed his trigger, hard. His own blasts cut across the gap between his ship and the pursuing TIEs, and the leader exploded as he scored several hits. The second craft carried on regardless of his fallen companion. Regor lined up for a shot, ignoring the sudden rocking jolts that told him his own ship was now under fire. He fired a burst, then swung away, hoping his shots would prove accurate. The jolting stopped as he evaded the incoming fire, but his shields had taken a significant pounding, and they showed they were getting low.

“Thanks One!” Three called. Regor allowed himself a momentary sigh of satisfaction at his accurate firing, before turning again into the fray.

---

Ions’ gunboat was a blur across the surface of the asteroid. He could hear the combat communications between Flight One, and he cursed the designers of his fighter, cursed the rocks between them, and cursed every obstacle that diverted him from the shortest course. This flight was formed behind him, all of them with as much power shunted to their engines as they could spare whilst still remaining combat ready.

“Closing on Flight One,” he called. “Be ready.”

“Sir!” Answered Haytha and Suhail simultaneously.

Suddenly, a trail of green laser fire crossed the horizon ahead, and the flight climbed, and returned energy to their weapon systems. As they rose, the fight came into view, though only visible by the exchanges of laser fire.

“This is Flight Two, closing on you fast.” Ions called to Regor.

“About...” Regor was briefly cut off, before continuing, “time.”

“Sir,” Suhail spoke directly to Regor, “Can you break and draw them towards us?”

“I can try,” he replied. “Flight One, break and close on Two. Pass between them and the asteroid.”

Flight Two could now see the other gunboats darting towards them, a swarm of TIEs at their heels. Sheer weight of numbers was threatening to overwhelm their comrades. Each incoming gunboat dodged and weaved, but the volley of fire directed after towards them was intense. Ions watched as Two’s shields collapsed, and several hits impacted on the hull. A flare of engine power suddenly burst from the rear of the craft, and then spluttered out, the gunboat beginning to spin away, out of control.

“I’m losing her, I’m losing...” Two’s voice was cut off as the engine reactor overloaded and the fighter exploded, the additional hyper-fuel and unused missiles adding to the destruction.

Ions screamed a curse at the oncoming TIEs and hammered his trigger in anger. At just beyond maximum cannon range, the shots would have been ineffectual had the TIEs not been chasing the retreating gunboats so closely. Their own speed carried them within weapons range, and the collected fire of the three gunboats of Flight Two ploughed through the TIEs, who seemed oblivious to the incoming threat.

“Regor, Orders?” Ions called.

“Hold them here, I need a visual situation check.” Regor replied.

Ions, Haytha and Suhail dived in amongst the TIEs, desperately weaving amongst them, trying to track the swarm of craft without targeting locks or radar signals. Fire lanced out in all directions, as Regor and Three climbed away and shunted a small amount of energy to give them a shield buffer against stray shots. Turning, Regor looked down on the battle. The unidentified Star Destroyer has dipped below the horizon, only the engine block was still visible. The TIE numbers had been significantly reduced by the intervention of Flight Two, but more were moving in, followed by two bulky transport vessels. They appeared to be Escort Transports, but the dorsal pod was exaggerated and unusually shaped. He shaped his plan quickly.

“Three, your ship is barely holding together, head for home, now – no debate. Flight Two, hold the TIEs there, I’m going to try and get some kind of sensor sweep of those transports, then we are all out of here. Understood?” He didn’t wait for their confirmations, but shifted all laser energy to his engines, and switched to missiles. With no lock, they would be dumb-fire, but that would be all he’d need. Linking his launchers, he knew he would have only four shots. He would need to make them count.

Flying high over the dog fight taking place just above the asteroid’s surface, Regor suddenly dived towards the oncoming transports and their escorts. Tracking their progress, he set his sensors to full forwards sweep, and took careful aim ahead of the transports. He fired two salvos, one each in the path of each of the transports. His instincts proved true, as both salvos streaked directly into the path of the target vessels, impacting hard on the front shields, collapsing them in a flash of discharging energy. He was closing quickly, and had little time. Lining up on the first transport, he fired his missiles before banking sharply and releasing the last of his advanced concussion missiles. His second shot, made as he swung away from the oncoming transports, passed the second transport and flew ineffectually away into the distance. The first transport, however, flew on directly into the oncoming missiles. They punched through the cockpit armour and exploded within the cabin, tearing the ship apart from within. As he flew away, weaving desperately, he heard Haytha’s voice over his intercom.

“What the krell did someone just do?” Regor swung his ship around and headed for Flight Two. He immediately saw what Haytha was meaning. A number of the TIEs had cut to half speed and were now proceeding back towards the Star Destroyer. The remaining TIEs were still fighting, but their reduced numbers left them easy targets for his squadron, and they were falling rapidly.

“We are down two ships, and there are more fighters incoming, and these ones are not going at half speed. Use this lull to break away. All power to engines – outrun them, and jump as soon as you are clear of the gravity field.” In good order, his squad broke and powered away from the remaining TIEs, easily dodging the few fighters left still able to shoot. One by one, he saw them jump away as they reached the hyper point. He glanced back at the asteroid, before hitting his own hyper jump.

“Not pirates, then...” he muttered to himself, as the stars flashed by before him.

Chapter 7

The corridor was almost impossibly dark. Nowhere on board an Imperial Star Destroyer had any right to be this dark. No lumen strips were mounted on the ceiling, no console glowed to drive away the gloom. It was as if night itself had found a hole in which to hide from the day. A door opened, and even the light from the room beyond seemed unable to pierce the darkness. A shrouded figure entered the corridor, and waited as the doors closed behind them. Silence seemed to descend like a thick blanket, deadening the noise of the ships systems till the only sound seemed to be the figures own breathing. Then, a voice called out in the blackness.

“Welcome, Admiral.” The voice was deep, yet piercing. The shrouded figure, blind in the darkness, moved slowly forwards, towards where the voice had come from.

“The Eldridge is in the Bie’Lek System.” The Admiral said. There was a long silence.

“This is confirmed?” the voice asked.

“It is. The report came in from Squadron Commander Major Regor only moments ago. His information matches what we know of the Eldridge exactly.” Another long pause.

“Thank you, Admiral.” The voice said. After a long moment, the silence suddenly lessened. The sound of ventilation units and the hum of various systems could be discerned. The doors behind the figure opened, and the whole corridor was visible, lit from the room beyond. The Admiral could see no one else in the short corridor. Removing the shroud, the Admiral turned, and headed back towards the bridge.

---

Commander Regor stood looking through a view port into a bare-metal chamber, in the very centre of which a small metal box was hovering, suspended by an assortment of mag-beams. The name Britax was stamped onto a ID tag on the closed lid, just above the symbol ‘2 ‘. Regor watched the box as it drifted slightly to one side or the other, before the beams gently re-positioned it.

The sound of the hatch opening behind him did not distract Regor from his contemplation. A figure slowly moved to stand beside him, and quietly joined Regor’s vigil. After a while, he spoke.

“Were remains recovered?” Thom asked.

“No,” Replied Regor, “These are just his personal effects. At least, those that were not deemed as recyclable or to be re-appropriated.”

“As it should be,” Thom stated, solemnly. “It is, never the less, a small token of a life lived in service to the Emperor’s Hammer. His sacrifice has furthered our cause.”

“Yes,” Regor agreed. “I just wish I knew what that cause was.”

“Is it not obvious?”

“Yes, it is. We were sent to find that Star Destroyer. That is not what I meant – I want to know what is so important about it. I want to know what Britax died for, what others may die for.” Regor’s eyes did not waver from the box before him.

“Britax died, as others have and as others will, in service to the TIE Corps of the Emperor’s Hammer,” Thom said. “Be satisfied with that knowledge.”

Regor breathed deeply, and then hit a button. A beam of energy engulfed the last possessions of Lieutenant Britax, and they disintegrated before his eyes. He turned on his heels, and strode towards the hatchway.

“We have a briefing to attend,” He said.

---

Suhail listened intently to the briefing. The squad was returning to the asteroid, ahead of the Aedgillis, to clear any drones still in the area. The Frigate would then arrive to launch a boarding party. As such, Commodore Chimaq and a group of Naval Troopers were attending the briefing. Their sergeant seemed restless, uncomfortable next to the Commodore. His expression remained fixed, but inwardly he scowled. The Naval Troopers had served the Emperor’s Hammer well over the years, and he valued their service, but he had never respected their attitude. Many seemed to suffer a severe inferiority complex in the face of their superiors – the pilots of the TIE Corps.

He refocused his attention on the Commander and Briefing Officer, still going over the mission details. His flight would be assigned to escort the Troopers onto the asteroid, where they would seek an internal route to the downed Star Destroyer. The hanger to the Star Destroyer itself was considered too hostile. Regor and his flight would engage the drones directly.

Despite the familiarity of the briefing routine, Regor and Thom seemed distracted. They stumbled over instructions, misidentified flight groups on the holoscreen. They seemed acutely aware of this, and increasingly frustrated, adding to the general air of discomfort in the air. Suhail expected such behaviour from the Troopers, but from experienced officers of the Corps? He felt his own anger rising within him.

Suddenly, in his peripheral vision, he saw it – a corner of the briefing hall that was dark without cause, and the slightest suggestion of a person. He glanced around the room at the faces of the others. They seemed oblivious to the darkness. Indeed, Suhail could swear that they were unintentionally avoiding looking in that direction. He breathed out slowly, now recognising the cause of the agitation within the room. As the briefing concluded, the squad, Troopers and officers left, the latter speaking in low, hushed tones. Suhail remained, unnoticed by his comrades, before turning and approaching the dark corner. As he did so, he raised the sleeve of his uniform, exposing his inner forearm.

“How may I serve the Order?” he asked. Then, he was illuminated.

Chapter 8

Redren felt the pull of straps through his armour, as the Assault Transport accelerated out of the hanger of the Aedgillis. He faced backwards, into the hold of the craft, looking at his troops. A full squad of ten Troopers, including his usual team. And a... guest. The eleventh member of boarding team was armoured in black, similar to that of the old Dark Troopers. Every armour plate was curiously engraved, with symbols Redren didn’t recognise. He recalled Chimaq informing him that he would be acting under the orders of an Imperial Officer on this mission. Redren had never seen Chimaq so uncomfortable – he had sweated profusely throughout the additional briefing session with just the troopers. He did not know the name, nor even the rank, of the officer, just that his instructions were to obey his orders, without question. The officer had been onboard the transport as they arrived, and had thus far not spoken. Only a vague incline of his head as his squad arrived had indicated he was anything more than a suit of elaborate armour.

Redren turned his attention to his squad.

“When we land, I want a standard offensive dismount. Watch for defensive positions, automated defences – you know the drill!”

A braying chorus of “Sir!” followed his orders.

Redren turned to face the monitor to his side, and cycled through the views outside the transport as he felt it bank sharply. The gunboats of the TIE Corps were engaged with waves of TIE Fighters. Green laser fire tracked back and forth across the view screen. He watched as one of the gunboats broke pursuit of one fighter to redirect its fire towards a group of TIEs approaching the transport. Redren was impressed. Rho was doing a fine job against incredible odds. An explosion caught his eye. He watched the movement of the Gunboats against the TIEs, and began to spot a pattern. The ‘boats around the transport would weather the incoming fire from the TIEs moving on the transport, before swapping out with another. Whilst the new ship took over the close defence, the remaining squad members picked off TIEs as they moved away from the transport, gaining distance ready to turn for another run, the relieved gunboat moving further away from the fight, recharging their shields.

Switching the display to the forward view, Redren saw the asteroid loom large before them. He could clearly see the hanger bay they were heading for. Sensor readings from the original mission had given them a good idea of the layout, and the landing had been carefully planned. He adjusted the view to zoom in on the hanger, before several things happened simultaneously.

The screen in front of his erupted in a shower of glass and sparks, and he was slammed into the back of his chair. The transport rolled over on its end, and warning klaxons echoed around the transport bay. He felt the artificial gravity fail, and the main lights went off. They were plunged into darkness.

---

Haytha lined up on a TIE Fighter moving towards the transport, and squeezed his trigger. He cursed as the shots passed between the TIEs wings, just behind the cockpit. It had the time to loose a few blasts towards the transport before he adjusted his aim and ripped the TIE apart.

“Another flight pulling out, high port.” Ions voice came over his radio. With no way to share target data on the incoming fighters, they had resorted to verbal indications of location. High port was high to the left of the transports flight path. Haytha looked to where Ions had indicated, and sure enough, a flight of three TIEs were moving away from the transport, no doubt creating room for their next attack. He redirected energy to the engines, watching his shield strength bleed away as he did so, and tore off after the craft. He tracked their path, and fired. Before the blasts reached their targets, the craft dodged out of the way in perfect unison. Haytha frowned; no pilots could react that perfectly.

“These guys are too good,” He called.

“In trouble?” Ions responded.

“Not what I meant,” Haytha said, grunting as he pushed his craft after the TIEs that had eluded him moments ago. “Their reactions...”

“Haytha may be right,” Suhail cut in. “They react as one.”

“Drones?” Ions asked, the sound of his blaster all but drowning out his question.

“Possible,” Regor cut in, “Watch for transports acting as control nodes. I think that's what we saw last time.”

“Aye, Sir,” Haytha called, flying through the debris field that was all that remained of the TIEs he had been chasing. He turned, searching the starfield for targets. TIEs darted back and forth, and he picked a group beginning to turn back towards the transport. He began to head towards them, when a flicker of light caught his eye. On instincts, he drove the nose of the gunboat down, out of the path of the incoming lasers. A flash of shield energy told him he'd cut the manoeuvre a little too finely, and lost some shield reserves in exchange. Their aim was improving. He changed direction several times, watching as streams of laser energy chased his position. He shunted more power to his engines, the last of his shields draining away. He hoped the thick hull of the gunboat would give him enough of an edge.

“Haytha,” Ions called, “You have a second flight closing on you – basic target priority. They’re focusing their forces on a weak link.”

“Who you calling a weak link?” Haytha asked through gritted teeth, slamming his ship into turns he barely believed the craft capable of, desperately avoiding fire.

“Your krelling shields, they are almost gone” Ions barked, in no mood for Haytha's rough humour. “Draw them on, away from the transport.”

Ions moved after the TIEs pursuing Haytha. They had chased a weak ship when they took out Britax, and Ions hoped they would repeat the tactic. He watched Haytha's gunboat weave amongst them, trying to break their formations; force them to limit their fire to avoid hitting their own craft. Chasing Haytha meant they weren't chaging the transport, and Regor's flight were doing a good job of holding the re-enforcements. If Ions was quick, he could wipe out this entire flight before any other craft could line up an attack run on the transport.

“Bombers, Ions! Bombers!” Suhail’s voice called out over the comms. A pit opened inside Ions; as he turned to cover Haytha, he’d exposed the transport to incoming bomber’s he’d not even seen. He swung away from Haytha and the drones pursuing him, desperately hoping his squad-mate would have the skill to avoid their fire.

As Ions regained a line of sight on the transport, the pit in his stomach yawned wider. The light from the distant sun glinted off the bulky hulls of several TIE Bombers, all closing on the transport. Worse yet, a thick swarm of torpedoes were already in space, their blue trails streaming behind the powerful warheads. Suhail was already firing in amongst the torpedos, several detonating in silent blooms of protonic energy. Ions, finding himself out of position and caught unawares, felt a stab of panic. What was the next course of action? Help Suhail with the torpedoes, or head for the bombers? Could Suhail deal with so many alone? Would ignoring the bombers just mean a second salvo of torpedoes would be launched, leaving the Rho pilots with even less distance to intercept them? These thoughts passed across Ions mind in a fraction of a second, yet to Ions they crawled through his brain with all the speed of a bulk cruiser.

Blinking, Ions decided. He cut towards the bombers, his finger already on the trigger of his lasers. Pushing his throttle to max, he hoped his drive towards them would cause them to divert from their target, and give Suhail the time he needed to deal with the torpedoes – as short as that would be. He hoped it would be enough. His efforts were rewarded as two of the Bomber drones erupted before him, their unlaunched warheads cooking off in their missile pods. He turned towards the remaining bombers.

“Mission critical craft; Shields down.” A tinny, electronic voice came over the coms. No, this wasn’t going to happen. Ions wouldn’t let it. He couldn’t. Not after it was he who exposed the transport. No, this was not going to happen.

“Missions critical craft; hull condition critic...” The voice was cut off as a new message interrupted it. This is not going to happen, Ions repeated to himself. It was not going to happen.

“Mission critical craft; destroyed.”

Chapter 9

Commander Regor smacked his fist onto his thigh as the message ended. With the mission critical transport destroyed, it was over. Orders were that this transport made it, or the mission was terminated. Why there would be no back up transport, he had no idea, but orders were orders.

“One to all pilots,” He began, “Fall back to...” He was interrupted almost immidately.

“Sir, we’ve got to hold them a bit longer.” It was Suhail. Regor would have expected Haytha to be the one to protest, maybe even Ions, but Suhail?

“The mission is over. I won’t waste our lives or craft in some vain effort to get vengeance against a bunch of drones. Fall back to...” But Regor was interrupted once more.

“Sir, please. Trust me on this. We have to hold them.” Suhail, normally so calm and stoic, had a hint of desperation in his voice.

“Why? Is another transport launching?” Regor asked, trying to comprehend Suhail’s insistence while at the same time avoiding being overwhelmed by a fresh wave of drones. How were there so many? Waves of TIEs were still swarming from the upturned Star Destroyer embedded within the asteroid. Between those encountered in their first encounter and those they fought now, Regor estimated they’d destroyed enough Fighters and Bombers to account for an entire wing. Yet, they kept coming. He whipped his gunboat towards the oncoming TIEs, shunting all shield energy forwards. The TIEs had stopped charging in for full frontal attacks, and instead weaved towards him in a pattern that was very nearly random. However, years of training showed that there was a discernible pattern. The drones may be learning, but they still appeared to be responding as machines. He hoped that would remain so! Linking his cannons, he led the nearest craft, and fired even before his targeting computer had been able to confirm a target. His trust in his own ability was rewarded with a destroyed TIE, and the remaining TIEs breaking formation and attempting to reposition. This gave him the seconds he would need to determine what could be salvaged from this mission.

Suhail had not responded to his question about a second transport. Did this mean there were none? He felt his first full, official assignment as Rho Commander slipping away from him. Was it this same desperation he had heard in Suhail’s voice? Had Suhail allowed the shame of failure to cloud his judgement? A fierce shuddering and the flare of discharging shield energy broke him from his musings, and he initiated a cork-screw manoeuvre, hoping to bring his attacker into his line of fire.

As he did so, a distant glint of light caught his eye. Even at this distance, he recognised the transports as the same sort as those they had destroyed previously. If they were indeed the control transports, as he strongly believed to be the case, then this was perhaps an opportunity to gain some measure of success. At the least, it may make a second attempt to gain access to the asteroid easier. Besides, the Aedgillis had not yet called them back. Was Suhail right? Was there still a chance to claim a victory?

“We will take out the enemy transports, but then we are out of here.” Regor ordered. “Flight one, form on me. Flight two, Cover our attack.”

Suhail watched as Ions and Haytha broke from the drones they were currently engaging and making off after their commander. Haytha’s shields were low, but the fact he had any left at all were a testament to how far he had come as a pilot; he had flown his gunboat like it was the match of an Interceptor, or better. He would study Haytha’s flight telemetry with interest once this was done. But for now, he had other concerns. He banked away from his fellow squad mates, hoping their attention being diverted towards avoiding pursuit would disguise his own movements from them. He quickly located the wreckage of the transport, spinning away towards the asteroid, and moved to intercept. He had to be sure.

---

After a few seconds, the red auxiliary lights kicked in. The crew compartment was in utter disarray, equipment bouncing around the walls as the transport spun out of any control. Warning icons blinked in front of his eyes. The transport had lost all atmospheric pressure, and only the vacuum protection of his naval trooper suit was keeping him alive. He looked around the compartment at his troops. Eight seemed to have survived whatever had kriffing happened to them – his heart sank as he realised Yifanth was one of the two who hung limp in their harnesses. He hoped Yifanth had only been knocked unconscious.

As Redren attempted to gather himself together, he saw the black-armoured officer moving down the central gangway, moving with a level of control that seemed impossible in the spinning craft. The officer made it to the cockpit door, and hit the controls beside the door. Nothing happened. The officer somehow found purchase before the door, and jammed his fingers into the slight gap between the two halves of the cockpit hatch. Impossible as it seemed, he began to prise the doors apart. As the hatch opened, Redren could see beyond and into where he’d expected to see whatever remained of the pilots. There was nothing. The entire cockpit section had been utterly ripped away. Stars whirled before him, before the huge asteroid flashed past. They were falling towards it, out of control. To all intents and purposes, they were trapped inside a chunk of wreckage tumbling helplessly towards a horribly fatal impact on the surface of the asteroid.

This was it. The mission was over. The Transport would already have been declared destroyed, and the Gunboat pilots would be beginning to organise a retreat to the Aedgillis. Perhaps a fresh attempt would be made, assuming there was a replacement for whoever this officer was...

The same officer who was standing, motionless, in the open hatch. Redren felt a pressure build in his temples. He wondered if he’d been concussed when the transport had been hit. Then he saw it. Beyond the officer, the stars were slowing. He stared, disbelieving. The transport was definitely righting itself, coming back under control. But control of what? There was no flight mechanisms left to control the craft with. He looked back to the officer, eyes widening. Tiny crackles of blue electricity flickered between the black-gloved fingers as they gripped the hatch edges. The stars had slowed to a crawl, before the vast asteroid loomed into view. Redren watched as the surface passed slowly before him, until the dark opening of the hanger came into view. And remained in view! The wrecked husk that had once been a transport was still falling towards the asteroid, but now fell almost gently, right towards their intended destination.

He glanced back to the officer. He’d heard that there were still those within the Emperor’s Hammer who were able to use the force, but he’d assumed they were just stories, something told to Imperial citizens to sooth any fears about the Republic rebuilding the Jedi order. So, was that who this officer was? A Jedi, or Sith, in service to the Emperor’s Hammer? He knew better that to voice such question, so turned his attention back to his squad.

Redren swallowed hard. “Squad – prepare for disembarkation.” He could hardly believe he was saying the words, so sure he was of his impending death only moments ago. “Ikesony, check on our casualties.”

Bemused, dazed responses came back across his suit comms. Looking back to his troops, he saw some struggling to disengage their harnesses, others hurriedly attempting to deal with damaged portions of their armour. He watched as Ikesony tried to move down the gangway towards the casualties, struggling in the still shifting craft and avoiding floating equipment that had not yet come to rest. The rest of his squad faired little better, and were clearly as confused and bewildered as himself. This would certainly get them killed, and after such an unexpected escape he was not ready to allow that to happen.

“Get your krelling heads into the game.” Redren barked, as annoyed with himself as he was with his squad. “We’ve still got a job to do.”

---

As Suhail approached the wrecked transport, he felt a familiar prickle on his forearm. The hidden tattoo itched beneath his flight suit. His scanners showed that despite the terrible damage, the crew compartment section of the transport was still viable, although most of the atmosphere had vented into space. If fortune was on their side, then the mission may not yet be over. A slow smile crept across Suhails usually impassive face as he saw that the tumbling craft was slowly steadying itself, despite the scanner’s pronouncement that the craft was essentially destroyed. There was only one way he knew that would allow a powerless, ruined craft to be brought back under control – one his scanners were utterly incapable of detecting. He hoped the same would be true of the drones – any electronic reading of the transport would register it as having been destroyed, and that would be all the drones would have. A glance at his radar readouts confirmed his hopes! The TIEs that ahd not broken off to follow Haytha and Ions were closing on his position, and not that of the transport. He would not allow them to discover their mistake. Turning his craft towards them, he began to fire.

RtF Fictions by General Jarek La'an

Fiction 1 "Action Stations"

La’an scanned each plate of armour, eyes moving across the blocky hull of the Sentinel-class lander. She seemed to fill her corner of the main hangar, even amongst the Lambda’s and Mu’s of the Warrior’s complement. Another three formed a big part of the embarked Hammer’s Fist transport capability but they were tucked away in the forward hangar next to their own barracks, so the Bus had little competition in rising above the other vessels on the deck.

The low background hum of activity in the hangar belied the amount of work going on, dozens of technicians and engineers working quietly with almost feverish efficiency, broken only by the occasional change in tone or clang as repulsors or support systems cycled, or a rivet or tool dropped to the deck – the latter usually followed by a short, sharp curse. The area around his own ship was relatively calm, the last set of maintenance completed hours ago, every plate back in place, every carbon scar polished away. She looked new, well… if not new, then well worn, in her prime, an old troublemaker turned out in her best rig. Her stock externals belied the tuned engines, the overpowered shield arrays, all the little touches that made the more naïve engineers quail when they first tried to apply any standard Sentinel methodology to her repairs and refits.

It was always worth it. Theta’s extraction and insertion role essentially made the Bus an armoured taxi, hence the thuggish sobriquet of her name. Designed to bully her way through defences and down onto a hostile world, or into a raging battlefield and get the hell back out again, intact and cargo safe. Missions of late had been decidedly more peaceful, with General Yoda’s continued role as the TCCOMs Wingman and COM Protector leading Theta down a quieter road of tours, inspections and escorts to visiting dignitaries. The younger Thetans chomped at the bit, eager to get back to combat or experience it for the first time. While he couldn’t deny that a certain part of him longed to do the same he knew, in his heart, that combat would bring only fleeting joy, followed by the sadness of loss and regret,

He shook his head, dispelling the negatives and looking again at the lander’s hull. His feet moved without conscious command, walking him around the vessel three times. His head dropped to pass under the ship’s broad belly, eyes picking out neatly stowed inspections covers or secure umbilical connectors as the shore supply from the Warrior maintained power without draining the lander’s own stockpiles of power and fuel. Satisfied he turned to move away, a hand against the cool armour plate of the nose helping him as he straightened up a stiff back and reminding him that he most certainly wasn’t one of the younger Thetans any more.

Looking around he picked out the other Thetan craft, equally quiet except for the slow movement of Yoda and their fellow Genera, Gilad. Both had clearly thought the same as La’an, all this activity was leading to something, or certainly something more than a simple shakedown cruise.

On schedule, the main broadcast broke into life, echoes booming across the hangar space as heads turned to listen.

“Action stations, action stations. All personnel report to their action stations, all squadrons to Alert 15. Senior Officers to the bridge. That is all” The siren signifying action stations sounded three times before quiet returned, a split second before the quiet background hum surged into near chaotic frenzy, the sound of running feet and excited voices filling the hangar.

La’an turned to glance at the other Generals, finding both staring back; Yoda with a grin of anticipation, Gilad with a nonchalant shrug that could only signal his acceptance of whatever was about to face them.

Fiction 2 "A private project"

The senior officers sat-up in their chairs as the COM turned to move out of the crowded briefing room, his Flag Captain calling the room to attention and then quickly dismissing the assembled department heads, HF officers and TC commanders. The black uniforms of the HF officers were immaculately pressed, a slight contrast to the more mixed turnout of the pilots in the same room - the latter wearing a combination of flight suits, duty uniforms and what appeared to be in La'an's case a personal favour... an ivory silk scarf tucked around his neck and into the fur-lined leather jacket he had favoured over any sort of regulation article of uniform. It was of course a deliberate effort to drive the Wing Commander to frustration and, from the poisoned looks being thrown by Colonel Frown, was working beautifully.

The Stormtrooper officers shifted their own chairs to assemble in a huddle around the Brigadier commanding the onboard contingent, the assembled naval officers headed for the door, beginning to loosely form into their respective branches and specialisations - already running plans and timetable changes as an exercise in planning. The six squadron commanders present had camped out at the far end of the vast briefing room, alongside the flight officers responsible for the shuttles and support craft on board. A discussion would likely kick off between the assembled fighter aces and support jockeys, he knew from experience that while it would be less formal and ordered than their HF or naval comrades no-one would be left in the dark and a fluid, reactive plan would be in place before lunch.

For a second La'an cast his mind back an hour to the beginning of the briefing, comparing the nervous silence to the current bustle of activity. The ship had been too quiet for too long, a punishing 9-month tour following the last major engagement with the Void Raptors had led to an unending requirement to flush out cells, last remnants, copycats and the occasional unrelated insurrectionist or crazies. The EH had always attracted the best and brightest of an Empire long gone except in scattered remnants, but equally the dark and dangerous just as often washed up on their borders as galactic flotsam. The Raptors had fed off this, calling to their numbers the embittered and stateless. It had made them ferocious despite their low numbers, fighting without fear of anything left behind. It had made them bloody difficult to wipe out, with higher than expected losses to manpower and materiel, leading to a lengthy sojourn in orbit of one of the EH's few strategic reserve depots.

"If you gentlemen can excuse me for a moment, I've got a CAP to brief - let me know what pattern you want Theta in and we'll make it happen." A chorus of good natured boos and abuse followed La'an as he moved to escape.

"Like any of them listen to you, you old sod" a voice sounding suspiciously like Len injected.

"I thought you'd all been doing this so long your auto-pilot took charge?" Plif couldn't resist joining in, earning a short laugh from La'an and a more boisterous response from the audience. As he reached the door La'an turned with a flourish, sketching a mock bow and taking his leave.

"Gilad, Mark, Yoda - get the guys together in the ready room, I've got a high level briefing to deliver. Flights II and III will be getting tasking orders to support the CAP soon but I've received separate orders for Flight I. I'll be doing a flyby of the hangar to check status then back to brief." Three short beeps over his comm unit signalled the Thetans acceptance, opening and closing their feed s to create an almost inaudible flicker of static. The message from Frodo had been sent on a private channel while his XO had been briefing ship duty rosters, which meant that he had a private side-project that needed a particular set of skills. Looking at it the timestamps and passwords suggested that future directives would be revealed as they approached their target time and location - which meant one thing really, an extraction mission.

La'an rather enjoyed those missions in particular...

Fiction 3 "Covert Action"

The Sentinel-class lander’s powerful downwash tore at the desert as the bulky vessel executed a sharp turn at low level before curtting engines and dropping on to straining repulsorlifts mere feet above the ground. The Hammers Fist called the tactic a “hot approach”, while La’an had also heard it described as bloody stupid. That being said it was entirely effective when done right, as proven by the untouched lander sat at the heart of a slowly easing sandstorm. The distant laser fire that had chased them on approach had lost the ship as it dove for the ground, but the billowing grit and sand was a fairly obvious sign of their position despite the rolling dunes forming wide, deep valleys. Through the bulkhead behind him La’an heard the echoing footfall of three 8-man teams of Hammers Fist commandos jumping from the wide assault ramp to the sand below, followed by the banshee shriek of a quartet of speeder bikes howling into life – a flurry of noise that was just as sharply cut as mufflers cut in and engine power dropped to more modest levels.

“Clear of the LZ, request a wide circle and standby to assist?” the clipped tones of the commando’s platoon leader cut across the comms.

“Theta will do, we’ll be above the range of their E-webs but it means 45 seconds between call and arrival.” La’an subtly reminded the junior officer that their circling was likely to attract fire from the emplaced weapons that had tried to hit them on the way in. Both knew that those weapons were more a nuisance than a threat, but La’an was in no mood to take chances. A double click on the comm. sounded the affirmative, while the crew chief in the assault compartment signalled all troops clear with a more conventional shout. “Clear!”

La’an applied combat thrust a second after dialling up the repulsors, the Bus seeming to bounce into the air before the ion engines kicked in to send the lander rapidly skyward. It had been a long, slow approach with maximum stealth and he was more than happy to stretch out and start to enjoy himself. Frodo’s orders had been clear and his logic sound, Void Raptor activity had increased in the neighbouring system with raids and attacks on the up. A combination of intelligence and dumb luck had allowed a probe droid to catch a glimpse of a heavily camouflaged compound on a supposedly uninhabited moon at the edge of the system before it lost contact – likely destroyed by the same weapons that Theta 1 had dodged on the way in.

The insertion of a commando team had been deemed necessary and the best available asset was Theta’s lander, crewed by La’an, his co-pilot Nebular and a handful of gunners and crew chiefs assigned from the Warrior’s complement of stormtroopers. Frodo suspected that the Void Raptor activity was being co-ordinated from this moon and the troops had promptly been sent in to flush them out - without the use of local forces that had fallen under a measure of suspicion for their abject inability to look after their own system.

If the Raptor presence was light the platoon would deal with the threat, if it was more substantial they would reconnoitre in force and call in bigger guns to finish the job. From the handful of weapons that had tried to down the lander La’an suspected the platoon might well be enough to do the job itself, with the Bus’ supply of concussion missiles and heavy blasters a backup just itching to be used. He glanced at the chrono, 30 minutes had passed already with a few wide sweeping circuits of the operational area – more than enough time for the platoon to have made their way over the neighbouring dunes and into the target area. Switching the powerful comms suite to passively scan for active signals he quickly tuned into the squad channels, clearly in heavy use during what sounded like a fully fledged firefight. The suite alarmed as it detected an incoming priority message, the coded recall to bring the lander down and into the combat area. Nebular grimaced as La’an smiled, rolling the lander quickly despite her bulk, the anti-grav not quite reacting fast enough to prevent a lurching sensation in the stomach.

“Theta, hostiles still active – their ship looks to be getting ready to run, watch sector 8 for a launch.” As the Sentinel hurtled back towards the ground the combat area was finally visible, a deep culvert between dunes, almost a sandy cauldron with a series of refractive camo-nets strung across. The bulk of a freighter or shuttle was obvious but its shape unclear, while an array of comms equipment and a pair of e-webs looked to have been bedded down in a bunker higher up the sides of the largest dune. The sand-coloured shapes of the Hammer Fist troops could be barely made out against the backdrop, while the bodies of their opposition were all too evident – as the lander pulled from a steep turn to come to a rest above the site he could see at least a dozen corpses in environment suits, overalls and flight suits. A substantial explosion below and behind the lander sent a shockwave through the ship, the flashing shield indicators showing the afterffects of a shoulder-launched missile. La’an pulled the nose up, letting the Sentinel drift backwards to make a more difficult target, noting the camo nets begin to lift as the vessel below them strained to break free and escape.

“All units, danger close, take cover!” La’an paused a moment as the friendly troops sought cover, switching the Sentinel’s heavy blasters to his control before opening up with both batteries on the after part of the still obscured freighter. The camo nets shorted out, catching fire in places as they were seared or melted to the hull of what was clearly a YT-2400, a stock civilian freighter with the distinctive Corellian shape. The rising YT clearly hadn’t engaged its deflectors as the first shots burst maintenance hatches and armour, burning through the hull and into the engines with barely any resistance. His finger came off the trigger a heartbeat later as the enemy ship’s engines blew out with a wave of heat and static that scrambled his sensors for a moment, the crippled freighter dropping back to the ground less than thirty feet below, it’s hull distorting and fires continuing to rage as the catastrophic damage went unchecked.

La’an circled again, keeping the culvert in full view and watching as the last of the opposition, broken by the death of their ship, threw down their weapons. A section of Hammers Fist stormtroopers lived up to their name, pouring into the comms area before any attempt to destroy codebooks or equipment could be attempted. Watching the commando officer turn and wave the lander in, he killed power and settled in slowly on repulsorlifts, careful to avoid creating another sandstorm. Handing the conn across to Nebular he stepped from the cockpit to watch the ramp drop and allow the platoon back on board with the spoils of their action. Bulky comms units, dataslates, idents and equipment from the corpses all came up the ramp within 30 seconds, secured into place. A quartet of prisoners, the only survivors, were blindfolded and tied to a cargo bench. With far greater dignity a pair of armoured bodies were carried in by their comrades, the only friendly casualties and both clearly hit by an E-web volley during the initial assault, their armour singed and holed.

Turning back to the cockpit he watched through the sloping transparisteel as the other commandos quickly broke into the burning freighter, working efficiently to hack the main access before storming onboard. The staccato flash of laser light signalled a last stand, the pilot or survivors onboard choosing death rather than surrender. Minutes passed as a steady stream of commandos ferried equipment, documents and material from the steadily burning ship back to the lander, before eventually the officer stepped back onboard, his helmeted head turning to La’an and nodding to signify completion as the ramp secured behind him, internal lights switching back on to maintain illumination.

“Major, take us up.” Nebular responded with a gentle increase in power and his own shout from the cockpit.

“Well timed, the engines on that thing are going critical, I reckon we’ve got another minute or so before she takes out the entire culvert!”

“Give her a helping hand Neb, we’re done here.” La’an felt the launch of a concussion missile and the cycle of the autoloader on the portside as Nebular did just that, the YT’s death little more than a distant crump over the noise of a heavily breathing platoon, the shivering of their prisoners against their restraints, and the dying hum of cooling speeder engines. Over the entire tableau of noise the steady bass of the Sentinel’s main engines signalled their move to escape the moon’s atmosphere and return home.

Looking back at the prisoners again La’an’s interest piqued, while three were clearly terrified and fearful the fourth was a different story entirely, their body-language controlled and almost calm - not at all what he had come to expect from the Raptors. Recalling quickly Frodo’s suspicion of NR involvement in the recent tensions with the Raptors it might just mean that they had their proof, if indeed their fourth prisoner turned out to be something more than a pirate or thug for hire.

He dismissed the notion from his mind, lacking evidence enough to draw any real conclusion - the interrogation to follow would lay it all bare.

Fiction 4 "Ambush"

The Warrior turned on its axis, rolling to take the incoming fire on the dorsal shields as the ventral emitters spluttered, opportunistic and darting attacks by Raptor fighters peppering the exposed generators with laser and torpedo fire. The ambush had been sprung in an instant, the ISD initially caught unawares but after mere minutes re-establishing order and beginning to wrest the battle back into EH control.

Waiting at high anchorage over a lifeless moon the Warrior had been sat within a broad picket of her own escorts, patiently awaiting the arrival of a munitions convoy. The five bulk freighters were urgently required to re-arm the beleaguered task force with the Hammer, the Warrior’s sister ship having found herself facing the heaviest vessels in the Void Raptor’s armoury. The Warrior had been expecting the convoy to revert in within the cordon, what had not been expected was the group arriving and the lead vessel executing a full engine burn to drive in hard against the underside of the ship. Thankfully the manoeuvre had been slow enough to allows shields to be raised, but the energy of thousands of warheads detonating simultaneously had stripped the shields and blown a third of the more exposed deflector towers as the freighter’s debris impacted to cause further damage. The three remaining freighters of the group had disgorged almost two dozen bombers of various marks between them before drifting lifeless and abandoned – their cargo had clearly been added to the first ship to up its yield and their crews were even now manning the rocket laden bombers hoping to put the Warrior beyond use or function.

The combat patrol at the picket perimeter had instantly circled back, drawing with it the patrols from other vessels as a half dozen TIE Avengers and a trio of Defenders screamed back to assist the beleaguered Warrior. The ships of the picket remained in place, frantic orders from the Warrior’s Commodore keeping their guns outward against any Raptor attack, but equally keeping their fire from hitting the ISD around which the enemy starfighters were swarming.

Within seconds the Warrior’s batteries had recovered from their shock and started to weave their volleys back and forth. The port main battery bracketed the three freighters and wiped them from existence, taking no chances of further makeshift weapons. The raptor’s efforts had almost paid off but the bombers were slow and ponderous, even as they moved to loose their payloads and inflict hull or critical damage the rolling ISD and it’s pitting weapons were driving them backwards and into the combat patrol, beginning to be joined by the Warrior’s own alert squadrons. From reversion to this moment less than 120 seconds had passed.

“All stations report damage, all batteries cease fire, this if for the fighters to finish – only engage inbound munitions that get past the screen.” Frodo remained fixed in place, arms behind his back and radiating calm. He stood at the centre of the bridge, clearly visible from the crew pits to either side of the raised command walkway. Following his example the other officers on the bridge reported figures and station damage calmly, a counterpoint to the scrambled and chaotic comms washing from the broadcast stations, occasionally drowned by the static of an ion engine or warhead detonating.

“Sir, fighter intercept in 3, 2, 1. Mark” A junior officer at the fighter control station reported the arrival of the combat patrols Defenders, the fighters edging the Avengers in their race to score first blood. Frodo glanced at the holographic display hanging at the rear of the bridge, a full 3D display that had been set to remain fixed in one plane, showing the rolling movement of the Warrior and giving the impression that the great ship was capsizing like a sea-going vessel holed below the waterline. The comparison was apt, but thankfully the Warrior was neither holed nor sinking. Looking back at the bridge viewports he countered the roll order, leaving the Warrior inverted in relation to her escorts.

“Colonel Frown, report status of the fighter threat?”

“22 craft exited the enemy freighters, breakdown shows… 12 Cloakshape, 6 Y-Wing, 4 TIE Bomber. 15… 14 craft remaining, 12 enemy warheads in the air.” Frown’s usually sarcastic tone was serious for a change, the spark of professionalism in the man rising to the occasion.

“Excellent, continue to monitor and report. I want shields restored, defensive systems update?” Frodo switched his attention to the senior engineer, the officer taking a moment to scan his panel readouts.

“Shields restored to all sections, ventral strength at 85% but the backup generators are still down – estimate time to repair of 12 minutes for 50% functionality. The rest will take at least 2 days and at least 3 tower rebuilds.” The report was clipped and to the point, pulling no punches as was the preferred style onboard the Warrior.

“Good, but lets see if we can do it in 10 minutes, we’re better than this people – they caught us with our guard down and they earned our respect, but we’ll show them why we’re the TC’s finest.”

120 seconds later it was all over, Theta 4 and 8 – the TIE of Colonel Schueler forcing a weaving Y-Wing into a barrelling roll as paired lasers stripped her shields, rolling straight into a concussion missile snap fired by General Yoda at near point blank range, his shields sparking as he dove through the debris cloud.

“All fighters return to the Warrior, CAP resume patrol and stand by for relief.”

Fiction 5 "A drift"

The dark hull of the ISD was wanly lit by the light of distant stars, drifting quietly in the space between systems and well away from the conventional transit routes. Following the recent ambush the Warrior had re-tasked her escorts on a series of patrols and sector clearance missions, chasing down the remnants and supporters of the Raptors involved in the almost successful attack on the TC flagship. Odd shadows flickered briefly as much smaller sources of light dotted the underside of the ship, the telltale sign of repairs being carried out by zero-g trained technicians and utility craft, their welding torches and plasma drills securing and cutting free as needed.

The Sentinel continued its slow and careful study, it’s own powerful spotlights moving along the underbelly of the Warrior. To La’an’s front sat the ship’s Flag Captain, as well as his senior engineer, both engaged in a steady discussion of repair times, parts and redundancies. It was all essential work, but La’an couldn’t help but tune out from the ongoing conversation – he missed standing on the bridge of a warship, he certainly didn’t miss the minutiae of the say to day running of one. One thing that was difficult to ignore was the snoring coming from the co-pilots chair, the occupant slumped back with his highly polished boots resting lightly on the edge of the console. Frodo showed no signs of waking anytime soon and La’an simply smiled, turning back to watch the ISD filling his view. He knew from experience how little sleep Frodo would be getting during the ongoing situation, so snatching an hour during a damage review would hardly matter – especially not with the experts he relied on already digesting every possible issue, scenario and requirement.

“You must be enthralled in there, or at least having as much fun as we are.” The dry voice of Colonel Schueler cut across La’an’s thoughts, quietly limited to the private channel linked to his headset. As he glanced at the sensor display he noted the two IFFs of Theta 5 and 6, the TIEs of the Colonel and Major Caine floating in his wake and slowly keeping perfect station.

“I’m enjoying the novel I’m reading, I’ll say that much.” The Major’s more jovial tones made it clear he was probably doing just that, although it was no doubt something suitably rife with either combat, women, or both.

“Theta 5, Theta 6, commence area sweep and return to station on completion.” La’an smiled to himself as both TIEs rapidly inverted, pushing away at full combat thrust to run a series of laps around the ISD and immediate area. That would at least stifle their boredom for the next few minutes, La’an had no such escape.

“I’d have left them to suffer if I was you.” He turned his head to see Frodo stretching his arms, cap pulled down across his face and eyes closed. Sensing La’an’s attention he opened his eyes and sat up, swinging his boots off the console and glancing at his juniors. “In any case we’ll be done within the hour – damage report Commander?” The senior engineer turned in his seat and with a glance at the datapad in his hand started to reel off the figures and timings he had already briefed to the Flag Captain.

The sensor panel began to quietly sound, the rapid tone signalling the arrival of a new contact within the area – in this case a vessel from hyperspace some 6km behind the shuttle. The comms panel began it’s own sound, the sensor officer onboard the Warrior interrogating the new arrival for the day’s clearance codes while on the fighter control channel the Wing Commander’s staff directed the combat patrol to an intercept. La’an checked his own readouts in time to see the Thetan escort slot back into place either side of the lander and save him the job of recalling them. The rapid tone on the sensor panel changed, a satisfied single tone signalling the detection of a friendly IFF and ceasing to alarm. As he called up the identity details of the new craft La’an was surprised to note the transmitted name – Ivanhoe.

“You don’t necessarily need a Star Destroyer to dig rats from their holes, but it does help to have a rat-catcher. Thankfully our fine government mandates that any bounty hunter operating in EH space does so under the auspices of a guild.” Frodo had raised a hand to stall his engineer while he turned back to La’an. “The Raptors and their NR backers aren’t working alone, they’re exploiting relationships, debts and favours owed across the fringe of our borders. It’s an area we can operate in, but not without it’s difficulties so I’d rather have some of the larger, more obvious rats dragged from their holes without drawing us into their backyard.”

“Remember that while we’re indeed prosecuting a campaign to remove NR infiltrators, we’re doing so with limited resources to prevent the kick-starting of a direct conflict with their beloved state. That means more subtlety and guile than can be offered by a fighter wing or battalion of ground troops, subtlety that in this case is thanks to the exchange of large quantities of credits.” Frodo smiled, “Time to get back and welcome our guests, I think a senior officers dinner tonight should prove suitably distracting before we unleash them on the rats tomorrow.”

La’an nodded, adjusting course to head straight for the hangar and sending the necessary course corrections to the Warrior’s fighter controller. He had worked with bounty hunters before and couldn’t doubt their single-mindedness, but their methodology was too chaotic and almost guaranteed collateral damage. That being said, if the rats – or rather the Raptors – could be dragged into the open or their supply lines exposed without the loss of Imperial lives, then he would back it to the hilt.

Time would tell.

Fiction 6 "The Prize"

The situation appeared to be worsening by the minute, klaxons sounding near continuously as piercing collision or depressurisation alarms momentarily overwhelmed them. The gentle shudder in the deckplates belied the intense kinetic forces striking the ship further aft, the artificial gravity and inertial dampeners struggling to keep the vibration in check.

Shouting dominated the bridge, a clear sign of anarchy breaking out and the last vestiges of order crumbling. The command officers gathered around the displays, steady streams of red light delineating damaged systems and depressurised compartments. No single voice dominated, the ship’s captain having stepped forward to gaze through the main viewport at the battle raging in the void mere inches away, his knuckles white as his hands gripped the rail to stop from shaking. He could sense this battle rapidly disappearing beyond any hope of victory, indeed with the damage his beloved ship was taking they’d be lucky to survive.

“We underestimated them, an error we may not live to regret. Signal all vessels to commence a withdrawl, report status of the fleet?” he finally spoke, his command officers falling silent even as the console operators maintained their steady voice traffic.

“Fighters are at 15% and calling for support or cover to re-arm, escorts are trailing behind us and can’t break free of the enemy bombers. Two of three frigates are gone… make that three, the last just went dark – we’re on our own sir.” The XO delivered his stark verdict with little emotion.

“Understood, ready the hyperdrive – we’re almost clear of the Interdictor, as soon as we can, microjump, recalculate and head for the fallback position.” The Captain turned his back even as the voices of his officers rose, all highlighting that he was abandoning their fighter screen to almost certain death or capture. He turned back to them, reaching a webbed hand to his moist brow. The Mon Calamari captain offered no words, simply a clear look of shame and guilt that acknowledged the facts – he was abandoning his pilots and could only hope that they broke free and were able to follow.

“Shields are failing, the ISD astern is closing the distance!” sensors reported with a sharp cry, another following. “Additional hyperspace signatures detected!” The Captain whirled to face the sensor display, further horror reaching his face as he realised what the enemy Admiral had planned…

“They’re using their own interdictor to pull their reinforcements in, right where we would break free – it’s a trap! Adjust flight path, commence downward acceleration, get us out of here!!!” Chaos resumed as officers hurried to carry out his commands.

---

“That was a rough reversion, not a tactic I’d usually enjoy but it seems to have worked” Frodo remarked quietly to his own XO, noting with pleasure the near silent command bridge and it’s officers working in efficient harmony.

“I don’t think the Challenge needs us, they’re closing with the Mon Cal cruiser and it’s looking to be on the brink of a core overload – he’s running ahead of his fighters and his escorts are all burning.”

“We’re not monsters however XO, dispatch shuttles to commence SAR runs as soon as the last fighters are dealt with – Theta and Sin look to be mopping up the last of them. Time till main batteries are in range?” Frodo queried his gunnery officer, watching the man’s hand raise and count down with his fingers from 5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

Caught between two onrushing ISDs the Mon Cal seemed to crumple, it’s shields buckling and molten segments of hull plate and armour superheating and breaking apart before cooling into distorted, almost organic shapes. Within 30 seconds a broadband call on the emergency channels signalled an attempt to surrender – Frodo silenced his guns with a wave as the Challenge did likewise.

“Ready the HF, they’ve a prize to take.”

Fiction 7 "Resistance"

The last of the resistance onboard the crippled Mon Cal had been isolated and dealt with, pockets of crew having refused their commander’s calls to surrender the ship. Halfhearted attempts to damage systems or scuttle the ship had been ruthlessly put down, in one case by a Rebel engineer’s own comrades – more concerned with their survival than denial of their ship to their enemy. The General commanding HF forces was moments away from reporting to the Warrior’s Commodore when an alert broadcast across his command channel, one of his platoon leaders firing off a warning.

“We have a pair of shuttles breaking from the command hangar, we’ve managed to shut down the remainder and take prisoners but both vessels are clearing the mag shields and are heading for space!” The comm crackled, a clear sign of interference from the sparking and crippled systems of the Mon Cal, sturdy if disturbingly organic ships but after a pounding from two Star destroyers this one was barely intact. The General answered with a click of his comm.

---

“Roger that Warrior, outbound threats to be contained.” Theta Leader briefed his squadron, in the process of circling back to their own ship as the call from the captured prize came in. The two escaping shuttles, a Lambda and what looked like a Mu scout variant, were picking up speed along their escape vector, almost clear of the interdictor’s effect and on a vector that only Theta could reach before they fled out of range – the Warrior and Challenge’s fighter screens having headed home after disabling the last of the Rebels.

Only Theta… more accurately the second and third flights, the Sentinel lander was faster than stock, but still nowhere near the lighter Lambda and its variants. Colonel Schueler signalled his projected interecept, La’an watching on his sensors as the icons slowly closed – mark fired stuttering single blasts of his lasers, gunning for the Lambda’s engine compartment in an attempt to halt the fleeing ship. A rapid decrease in speed signalled his success as the wounded shuttle cut power and began to drift, at which point La’an swung his own ship around to plot his own intercept at a more sedate pace with an intent to tractor or board depending on the shuttle’s damage.

“I’ve got the last guy, I’ll have a solution for a few seconds – going to have to go for the hard stop boss?” Commander Aalith’s voice cut across the comm., his Missile Boats straining engines audible even over the channel. La’an fired back a quick assent, capture was preferable, but they weren’t helping themselves by allowing possible intel to flee unopposed.

Keth heard the chime as his target lock engaged, his finger almost caressing the joystick as he fired a short volley, watching the sensor lock begin to fade a heartbeat later. Three concussion missiles roared ahead of the fast moving craft, arcing to follow the track of the Mu.

The first flew true, a half-second ahead and collapsing the shuttle’s shields as a fiery explosion flipped the craft on its axis, sending it spiralling away. The second missile failed to compensate and stormed past, continuing on rapidly diminishing fuel as its onboard sensors tried to capture the target again, failing and detonating as a built-in safety engaged.

The third took less than a millisecond to recomputed, acquiring the Mu as the explosion’s initial burst of static faded and gracefully matching the ship’s erratic roll. It seemed to fly into the hull, exploding within the troop compartment and blowing the cockpit section away in a violent burst of shrapnel, fire and igniting oxygen. No doubt a kill, no-one could survive that gutting.

“Target destroyed” Keth reported calmly, only momentarily considering the people onboard before years of training and acceptance regained control. “Returning home”.

Fiction 8 "Turning the Tide"

The battered form of a Mon Cal cruiser hove back into view as it emerged from hyperspace, its organic, elegant lines ruined by dozens of damaged decks, destroyed emplacements and raging fires. The fact that the vessel had survived to jump was wonder enough to the Rebel officers monitoring the arrival from the repair station concealed amongst the asteroid belt of what the EH considered an insignificant and empty system on the very edge of their border territories. Comms intercepts had suggested that one of their battlegroups had been caught in the open, not so subtly assisting their Void Raptor puppets in a raid on a suspected EH arms convoy – reports had signalled no known survivors, with no ships arriving at the designated fallback. However the Mon Cal, known to it’s comrades in the NR 12th fleet as the “Rising Tide” had clearly managed to break free of it’s attackers and retreat to this staging post.

From the look of the damage it would be a minor miracle if they could stabilise the ship enough to get it back to a NR fleet base or repair facility. Initial attempts to communicate had fed back static and a hissing fragment of voice traffic, but the IFF was broadcasting the correct day code and to the observers it was clear that the ship was unable to properly communicate but friendly. The token force defending the post moved to intercept and render aid, the trio of Corellian Gunships flanked by four flights of fighters, a mix of X-Wings and a scattering of heavier B-Wing bombers. It was a paltry force but the depot’s greatest strength was it’s covert status, nothing larger could be housed in the cavernous and concealed internal hangars.

---

“Slave systems reporting hyperspace reversion, we’ve got another 30 seconds before they start getting close enough to see just how damaged this thing is.” La’an, designated as the commander of the mission about to unfold, briefed the two squadrons under his immediate command. All 20 fighters and Theta’s lander were housed in the remains of the Tide’s hangar, the splintered remains of the massive compartment entirely open to space – the pilots had spent the last 12 hours in their cockpits and unable to do more than stretch and wait patiently for their trap to be sprung. Theta Leader at least had been able to move around, although his adrenaline rush had prevented any meaningful rest or even sleep.

The Tide had been rapidly evacuated, with over 3000 surviving Rebels taken into captivity and a wealth of material stripped from the ship – including the location of this depot. It had been a quick and messy affair, driven by the knowledge that the valid IFF code had little more than – La’an checked his chrono – 20 minutes before it expired and revealed that the ship was little more than an empty husk, an infiltrator carrying a dangerous cargo. It’s bridge had burned out shortly after capture as power conduits overloaded, its damage control circuits shattered and unable to control the firestorm that had consumed oxygen across the topmost decks before the HF General commanding the boarding party had simply vented the atmosphere to save the rest of the ship, if not the command staff and ship’s captain.

“All ships, engines live – break in T-minus 10 seconds” La’an brought the Sentinel’s idling systems up to combat power, cycling the shields to full strength and readying active sensors. Their force was a vanguard, but to achieve surprise they needed to act fast and smash the fighters and gunships approaching the Tide before they figured out that the ship was powerless and drifting beyond the dangerously lashed together hyperdrive.

“Attention in the back, time to earn your pay!” La’an called back to the platoon of HF troopers filling the troop compartment of the Sentinel. It would be a risky gambit, but two of Theta’s missile boats were loaded up with the scant few ion warheads carried in the Warrior’s dwindling arsenal after weeks of combat. While the rest of Theta and Sin broke the fighter screen the Sentinel and its wingmen would make straight for the depot and try to disable whatever defences and systems it had in place, ready for the insertion of a boarding party – the depot would surely house valuable intel and personnel worth interrogating.

“And go!” The EH vessels accelerated by flight, hurtling like rounds fired from an antique black-powder weapon, propelled into space before falling on the unsuspecting Rebel gunships with torpedoes and missiles. As the warheads closed on their targets the attacking fighters switched to lasers and stitched fire into the sedate NR fighter flights, claiming immediate kills as X-Wings broke apart, panicked attempts at evasion leading to two B-Wings colliding in a fiery burst of detonating munitions.

“Theta 9, Theta 12, lead me in, I’ll keep your tails clear.” La’an rolled the lander on its axis and swung in behind the pair of missile boats as they activated their SLAM engines and surged towards the depot, the larger asteroid in the nearby belt clearly visible at such short range. Only a handful of structures could be seen on the surface, thankfully meaning a limited range of static defences. Active sensors confirmed this a second later, a half dozen medium turbolasers and a missile silo all designed to bat away a light attack by fighters or pirates – clearly a base formerly held by the Void Raptors.

Squealing sensor returns signalled the impact of multiple ion warheads on these positions, La’an watched their blue energy arcing from hardpoint to hardpoint and grounding through the fragile antennae and systems that studded the batteries.

Not a single scarlet bolt or fiery trail behind a warhead rose to meet the Sentinel as she closed to less than a kilometre of the main hangar opening, firing a salvo of her own missiles into the opening to clear any defences as her turrets stitched the scattered groups of personnel visible on the hangar floor. Executing a full combat landing La’an dropped the lander onto the deck with a heavy impact, feeling the undercarriage strain as it took the weight and the ramp dropped…

Fiction 9 "Feeling the Strain"

The latest casualty figures were a mixed affair, the Warrior at least riding high on a series of decisive engagements in which the element of surprise paired with overwhelming firepower had removed the enemies will and ability to fight. More casualties in the fighter wing had occurred due to the high sortie rate than any direct enemy action – one of Sigma’s TIE Advanced flight had misjudged the timings on approach for a combat reload, colliding with a launching ATR. Thankfully a crumpled solar panel and a concussion could be counted as a lucky escape for Sigma 4, but losing even a single fighter in the present combat scenario would have a knock-on effect.

Another error had proven more costly, one of Wing II’s SAR shuttles straying into the path of a missile volley during the last engagement – sensors had confirmed that the pilot’s response times were much slower than usual, likely due to near continuous flying over the proceeding 48 hours. That mistake had cost 8 lives, felt keenly by every one of the Warrior’s crew. The Commodore had reinforced the need for squadron rotation and rest, his debriefing with the Wing Commander had been heard almost 3 decks down at several stages.

As a Squadron Commander La’an had at least partial visibility of the other ship’s headline casualty figures and what he had seen caused significant surprise. While the Challenge and her task group echoed the Warrior’s trends the Hammer was taking a beating – directly drawn into several capital-ship engagements and taking significant damage as a result. He shook his head, this was supposed to be a short, high-intensity campaign against the Void Raptors but it was forcing the NR infiltrators running them into open conflict – if this wasn’t concluded soon they ran the risk of a brush conflict escalating into a full war footing.

He glanced at his own reports, noting the Crew Chief’s maintenance schedules and assessments. Frowning at the conservative estimates he considered pushing back, but experience had shown that if the Chief said 3 hours he could do it in 2 – a trick that seemed to be part of the basic training for flight engineers in the wider TC, but he would allow the man his apparent miracles. He also noted the wing admin officer’s attempts to remind him that his 12th billet still required filling, an oddity La’an again chose to ignore – by dint of little more than bribery and scheming Theta had gained the Sentinel lander known to his men as the “Bus” to better suit their role, a rugged craft which didn’t require a 4th officer to man. While theirs was an assault squadron, on paper at least, their veteran status had led to their use on all manner of missions, particularly insertion and extraction of assets from less than friendly situations.

The last datacard on his desk was one he had yet to finish working on, a proposed transfer that he had considered for some time, thinking again he replaced it on the desk. It could wait until the current campaign was concluded.

“General, this is Flag Captain Valaris, your presence is requested on the Bridge at your convenience” his terminal broadcast the brusque but polite tones of the ship’s effective Captain, a senior officer who ran the Warrior while Frodo ran the entire task force. La’an stood quickly, smoothing down his tunic – if the Flag Captain as requesting his presence he could read between the lines and recognise the Commodore’s request. If an Admiral requested, you complied, while “at your convenience” meant, at least in this navy, “now”.

It could only mean another assignment, something potentially just for his mob as the Warrior was still in transit to the next operational area and not expecting another engagement for 12-18 hours. He ran his readiness figures in his head, recalling the Chief’s predictions and mentally recalling any useful data. Almost with out awareness he stepped from his cabin, turning forward and heading down the flat towards the turbolift, continuing to run scenarios and consider possibilities even while acknowledging his peers and subordinates on the short journey to the bridge.

As he arrived at his destination the door’s hissed open with the heavy pneumatics of an armoured blast-door. Stepping into the after part of the bustling bridge he glanced along the command walkway, noting the Flag Captain standing watch, hands clasped behind his back as he stared through the main viewports at the stars beyond. A more junior Lieutenant looked up from the security console adjacent to the turbolift, smiling and coming to attention in recognition of La’an’s rank.

“The Admiral asked that you be shown to the briefing room, he’s expected in a matter of minutes.” La’an nodded his assent, following her as she led him towards the secondary briefing suite – his mind continuing to gauge just what might be next…

Fiction 10 "The enemy of my enemy"

Theta’s flight of TIE’s circled the area around the Nebulon-B frigate as it drifted, power idling in the empty space between systems. The missile boats hung further back, payloads primed and ready for release as the four craft slowly cruised around the capital ship, weapons locked at all times and taking no chances. The blocky form of the Bus was clamped to the dorsal surface of the frigate, a rigid umbilical leading to the lander’s access port. Onboard, Major Nebular and Colonel Darkhill monitored their own sensors and communication systems for any sign of threat or danger. They were calm, but a hint of nerves couldn’t help but creep in as time stole by – a drumming hand, a restless foot against the side of a console. La’an and their passengers had been away for mere minutes, while they had spent the time clamped to the worn and damage pitted surface of what they knew to be a Void Raptors vessel.

La’an himself was acting as escort to their main passenger, an agent of the EH’s Intelligence Bureau that had yet to revel their actual name. A trio of HF commandos in non-descript and insignia-less black uniforms completed their small party and offered at least some reassurance. Facing them across the small briefing room behind the frigate’s main bridge were a pair of senior Raptor lieutenants, both known to intel and both formerly Imperial officers – first under the Empire and then a series of remnants from Thrawn to Daala. That they had found themselves part of a particularly vicious pirate group within Imperial space was an irony they probably didn’t appreciate but La’an wasted no time considering it either.

“When we first became the Void Raptors it was a simple business transaction, we were at a low point, we had this ship and the remnants of a crew – our Warlord had left us to die and to be honest we didn’t really appreciate the sentiment. We that were left resolved to make our own way in this sith-licking excuse for a galaxy and took what pay we could where we could.” The older male Raptor started the discussion, his haughty features surely an indication of Coruscanti birth, likely to a wealthy family. His clothing betrayed a man who hadn’t quite left the Empire behind, wearing a well pressed officer’s uniform, albeit without rank pins and paired with a wide leather belt and holster – a noticeably empty holster as a sign of faith. His greying hair was cut short and matched his steel coloured eyes, the lines around them broken by a series of narrow scars that reminded La’an of his own, earned by his proximity to an exploding viewscreen during his time as a ship commander.

“We won’t defend it, the choices were limited and we took what suited – you’re not expected to understand. Val Duquesne offered a way forward and a lot of us, and there were a lot, felt abandoned by the Empire and it’s bloody remnants. We were the flotsam of a shattered empire, so we fell back on our skills.” The other Raptor continued from her colleague, a much younger female with the accent and swagger of a Corellian. Her long red hair was down, her flight suit betraying her role as a pilot. The shadows of removed squadron patches and insignia made it clear she was another former Imperial officer. “For a time it was a good life, but we grew too big, too fast – Val’s hatred of your faction drove us down a path that led to a direct conflict. Very few of us walked away, but those that did ended up turning to what we thought was an ally – as opposed to what it turned out to be, a front for the NR and it’s intelligence agencies.”

“So what now? You’re unwilling participants, your organisation little more than a name or disguise of convenience to be worn by NR infiltrators – what can you offer to prevent your final destruction?” The unnamed intel officer interjected as the Raptor’s finished their opening gambit.

“What can we offer? The first question should be what do we want, what we can offer is intel, codes, rendezvous points and the main players in this entire charade.” The redhead spoke again, her voice animated. “Those of us that are left are fragmented, the ex-Imperials are sick of this, we hate how low we’ve sunk and we hate ourselves for it more than ever. There are less than 200 of us, most onboard this ship with only a handful scattered through the rest of the group. We want asylum and freedom from any legal pursuit, we’ll join your navy, we’ll be peaceful citizens, but we won’t be dragged to our ruin as Rebel puppets”

“This isn’t what we signed up for and it sure as hell isn’t something I can stomach, we’ve had our differences and it’s a damn great difference between survival and allowing one of the last remnants of the Empire to be devoured by Rebels too afraid to engage you in open conflict.” The older Raptor backed up his pilot.

“We accept, my compatriots will search your vessel and provide assurance that we’re not playing a game that you will later regret. I expect to be given command as of this moment. Your crew are to assemble for debriefing and will be ferried to the Warrior for full review. This is unconditional, so you’ve got a call to make. I expect full access to your memory banks, all materials and anything else I decide on whatever whim suits me”, the Intel officer was harsh, deliberately trying to push and test the Raptor’s resolve.

“I’ll inform the crew.” The older Raptor’s relief was evident, a weight lifting from his shoulders that seemed to restore a measure of youthful vigour – he had resisted the barb of the intel officers tone, even as his younger colleague had bridled but kept her silence.

La’an had remained equally quiet, but was glad that they had stolen an advantage here, as well as returning lost souls to the fold of the EH. A number of his colleagues would disagree with their lenient treatment, but hardened veterans were in short supply and he would take what he could get. A few would undoubtedly disappear, EH intel wouldn’t simply let bygones be bygones, but the bulk would go on to hopefully find some peace. As for the frigate, it would undoubtedly find its way into the TC’s arsenal.

“General La’an will return to his lander, you’ll accompany him as hostages to guarantee my own safety after you conclude your briefing. Behave and we’ll have no issues.” The intel officer directed his attention to both Raptors, or rather both ex-Raptors, waiting for both to nod.

“Excellent, I’m sure this will be the beginning of something wonderful for us all.” La’an turned to look at him, but the man’s grinning face betrayed nothing but satisfaction. Ignoring him, La’an stood to take his leave.

“I look forward to your company, I’m sure we’ll have a few battlefields in common”.

Fiction 11 "Final Days"

The Warrior recovered its wing with maximal efficiency, SAR shuttles heading to recover the sole unfortunate forced to eject before commencing the search for enemy survivors. Another pilot had been confirmed as lost, their name recorded as KIA on the wing status boards. The burning wreck of the Strike Cruiser sputtered as the last of the oxygen venting from the hull burned away or froze as it was supercooled by the cold of space. The wounded corvette running ahead of it sat idle, engines shut down as the shuttle clamped to its port access hatch conveyed a HF boarding party. The two squadrons of enemy fighters had stood little chance, emerging from hyperspace into the waiting guns of an entire ISD and it’s battlegroup - a storm of fire that had swept away almost a score of X-Wings and TIE Interceptors in a heartbeat. None had survived to flee the combat, but the last fighter had put up a determined resistance and claimed two kills to avenge his colleagues at least in part.

The Strike Cruiser had similarly suffered as it followed its fighter vanguard into the area, bravely attempting to shield the lesser corvette but paying heavily for its courage. The hull was holed in at least a dozen places, the majority of the engine section little more than a splintered ruin where the primary reactors had cooked off, crippling the ship beyond any hope of recovery. A string of escape pods, like pearls from a broken necklace glinting in the firelight, hung around the burning hulk awaiting recovery.

Frodo surveyed the scene dispassionately, another victory that would further hem in the Void Raptors and their NR backers. The intel from the defecting ex-Imperials had been outstandingly in depth, revealing force dispositions and strengths across the border. The Raptors themselves amounted to no more than three frigates, two Strike Cruisers… one now… and a dozen corvettes, all led by an elderly Victory-class Star Destroyer that by it’s ident codes had once served Thrawn. Less than 100 fighters and support craft rounded off an organisation that was little more than a shadow of its former strength, at the height of their insurrection the previous year.

The NR forces backing the Raptor’s were another thing entirely, at least 4 major combatants had been destroyed – the last the “Rising Tide”, an MC-80b hounded out of its lair by the combined forces of the Warrior and Challenge. As soon as the Raptors were wiped out the NR would lose even their flimsy cover, they simply couldn’t maintain an offensive effort without launching an official and public attack – something their government wouldn’t permit in the current climate.

Whichever Admiral or intelligence officer that had sponsored and planned the NR effort to undermine the EH would likely lose whatever power they held as soon as the main NR apparatus became aware of the shadow campaign being waged – the loss of 4 major units was something that couldn’t be simply concealed for long. Frodo estimated that their assistance and the Void Raptor’s threat were mere days from complete resolution. Until that day however it was his duty to prosecute the EH’s enemies to the utmost of his ability and with absolute commitment.

“Colonel, debrief all Commanders personally – I want full assessments of all pilots on my desk by the end of the day” Frodo dismissed the waiting Wing Commander, watching the man stiffly turn and leave the bridge.

“Flags? Pen a thanks to General La’an for his efforts recovering our new friends, let him know his work is appreciated as ever.” A pleasantry here and there would never go amiss, while Theta’s recent actions had drastically shortened this campaign and hopefully saved lives.

“I’ve been instructed by Grand Admiral Rapier to offer you all the pardons requested in consideration of your service and intelligence to the EH. Those of you with former Imperial service are also offered the opportunity to re-enter our fleet at the ranks you last formally held.” Frodo turned to address the two former Raptor lieutenants, both standing at the rear of the bridge under the suspicious gaze of a naval security trooper. Neither was restrained and Frodo’s offer was genuine, Rapier and he had recognised that only the best could prosecute a guerrilla campaign against a stronger foe for so long – the EH wasn’t above learning lessons, a fact the Empire of old had singly failed to appreciate and one of the reasons for its fall.

“I hope it’s an offer you’ll consider… Commander, Lieutenant Commander” he smiled to convey what he hoped was his obvious satisfaction at the recent success, letting both know that he was aware of their pasts – the older Raptor had commanded gunships and frigates since just before the fall of the Empire, serving its remnants until the emergence of Thrawn. His colleague had earned herself a fearsome reputation under Grand Admiral Zsinj as a newly qualified pilot but his death had let to his fleet’s fragmentation and her service to a series of Warlords and eventually her own cause. Both paused for a moment before nodding, the events of the last few days almost too much to simply respond to in words – a resurgence of purpose and meaning after a near-lifetime in exile or a struggle to survive.

“The fleet will make ready for departure, all ships report readiness and status.”

Fiction 12 "The unexpected Attack"

The metal of the door’s surface buckled under repeated blows, each heavy swing of the breaching tool deforming the impact area. The high fuel and gas content in the atmosphere had ruled out explosives or thermal equipment, thankfully the EH’s arsenal had accommodated for such a specialist situation. The HF trooper, at this point undoubtedly suffering inside his armour, continued to swing the metal ram until with a sudden crash the entire door caved in and sagged to the side. As he stepped back a squad of his colleagues stormed the breach, each shoulder opening the gap larger as they passed through. The coughing noise of their weapons was distinct, their compact and suppressed slugthrowers just as deadly as any high-powered blaster at such close quarters.

The holo-feed scattered momentarily, presumably due to an EMP grenade or similar actuating close to the transmitter worn by the action’s commanding officer. As the feed regained focus Frodo watched from his perspective as another squad stormed the same breach, this time without such heavy fire on the other side. Clearly resistance was being broken rapidly, although from the size of the structure it couldn’t have contained more than a dozen rooms and offered little real difficulty to the EH’s elite ground forces.

A second and third holo-feed showed similar scenes as co-ordinated ground attacks levelled or seized small, scattered facilities across the moon’s surface – a series of former CIS mine workings and industrial buildings abandoned during the Clone Wars as their resources dried up. The empty hangars and workshops had been used as a covert monitoring post of EH traffic heading in and out of the system, particularly the high anchor point beyond the inner planets that the TC had believed to be both secure and hidden.

That illusion had lasted as long as it took an Imperial fighter to fire on and destroy a Lambda class shuttle departing the Challenge – a fighter that it became apparent belonged not to the EH but rather the NR cell operating from this moon on a stolen IFF. While the shuttle normally acted as a VIP transport pure chance had dictated that it was flying on a maintenance test flight, although the death of its four-man crew was little eased by that good fortune. A furious TCCOM had immediately launched squadrons to pursue the attacker before it could disappear, the TIE being caught by an incoming flight from Cyclone returning in-system from a CAP. What the TIE hadn’t expected was that it’s “mission successful” signal to it’s home base would be intercepted by the Warrior as she patrolled the outer reaches of the system. A rapid and largely unplanned assault had descended to the surface, homing in on the power signatures visible from the lower reaches of the turgid, polluted atmosphere.

Caught in the process of evacuating their sites, the Rebel shuttles and transports had been caught in the open by the missile boats of Theta. With their only escape cutoff the enemy forces had fled back into the mine workings and gone to ground, forcing the HF to deploy in strength to the surface.

“Sites alpha and beta cleared, delta reports success imminent. Heavy fighting ongoing but the enemy are cornered. Request orders on prisoners?” The HF Major at the ongoing combat requested clarification from his seniors, receiving a rapid response from the General.

“Prisoners where possible, priority is preservation of material and EH lives.”

“Understood, prosecuting last position now.” The Major replied tersely, the comm-feed picking up the same stuttering slugthrower fire that could be heard on the audio pickup accompanying the holo-feed.

Frodo watched as the combat quickly escalated before ceasing completely, a section of troopers rushing the final strongpoint under the cover of their platoon’s fire. In visceral detail the three enemy troops took incoming fire, spinning off their feet or thrown back behind their scratch-built barricade. At the wave of an NCO’s hand the remainder rushed forward in support to disarm the bodies and check for survivors. The two bodies showing signs of life were pulled from cover as a medic went to work, even as a trooper secured the arms of each with a pair of mag-locks. Frodo counted six other enemy bodies in addition to the two wounded prisoners, the survivors of the Corellian freighter that had been concealed under an abandoned processing silo several hundred metres away. That freighter now lay crumpled beneath several thousand tonnes of silo, Theta 9 having elected to simply collapse the structure on the ship as it tried to power its engines for an escape.

“Colonel, keep Theta on station to cover any other escape attempts – watch for any other activity, we may have missed undetected sites. Inform the General I’ll be coming down in person to see what these people have left behind. Do ask him if he would be kind enough to clear any traps or would be assassins?” Frodo watched his attempt at humour go straight over Frown’s head and almost sighed audibly.

Fiction 13 "Deepest Shadow"

The alarms silenced as soon as La’an hit the console, the proximity alert unnecessary as the screens filled with the visual and sensor returns from a wide debris field less than a kilometre distant. Slowing the lander but keeping control he frowned, glancing at his co-pilot and navigator as if to query what they were seeing.

“Don’t look at me boss, we expected to meet the Agressor as planned – we’re on time and in the right place.” Nebular confirmed the facts as he spoke, calling up their position on the main displays.

“There’s not enough debris there to make up a Victory – looks more like a couple or corvettes? Maybe a bulk freighter?” Den added his own opinion, shrugging and turning back to the sensor displays –watchful for any trap or ambush as the lander drifted at low speed. They were travelling without escort, a decision forced by necessity rather than the caution they would have preferred in the current climate.

“No power, no signals, no thermals – everything’s cold and has been for hours. Whatever happened here happened at least 6, maybe 8 hours ago. We have to assume the Aggressor moved on, but I’d be surprised if she didn’t leave us a clue or something else to help track her… Sensors picking up any ion trails?” La’an queried Den again, the Colonel replying without moving his focus from the screen in front of him.

“Nothing, anything that was there has dissipated too far or been trashed by the crap leaking out of the debris.” To the point as always.

“I think we can risk a full active-sweep, let’s see if we can poke anything into life.” La’an activated their broadband sensors from his own console, letting the EM energy blast across space around them for a little over a second. Within moments an in-depth report scrolled across the screen and formed a visual. With another command from La’an the image transferred to the holoprojector at the rear of the cockpit, creating a scale representation at the centre of which hung their own ship. The debris field hung in a loose spray of larger chunks, the biggest three times the size of the Bus, with millions of tiny components and wreckage slowly expanding away in a flattened disc.

“There we are, faint power reading spiking in the field, tracks to this piece of debris – looks like part of the bow section of one of the corvettes. I’m taking us in.” The lander nosed forward, speed increasing a little but still maintaining a cautious approach. The power reading in the field began to read on passive sensors as they closed to 200m, at which point it became obvious what was causing it as the bow debris slowly rotated, the spotlights from the Sentinel’s wing-mounted lamps picking out the sharp, clawed form of a TIE Shadow clamped to the hull.

“What short straw did you draw to end up as backstop Avenger?” La’an broadcast on a narrowband, open channel. The ship was as distinctive as the artwork emblazoned on its panels and it made sense that the Aggressor had left someone behind to act as a guide.

“Sir, I’m nothing more than a victim of circumstance… bad luck… poor judgement… I think the CMDR mentioned something about odour as well? Glad to see you, another hour or so and the rest of me was going to join my ass in falling asleep.” La’an smiled at the elite pilot’s quip, he was probably only a Captain but to have earned his place in Avenger he would be one of the best the TC had. Good enough that a little informality could be accepted here and there. La’an made a more formal ident check, transmitting his IFF and confirming the fighter’s codes before replying with a “ready to carry on” signal.

The TIE Shadow detached from the debris, engines cycling as the craft turned and powered away, transmitting an encrypted set of co-ordinates. La’an fed the details into the navicomp, watching the system plot a navigable route. Signalling readiness to the TIE, La’an waited until the fighter was clear and after a moment seemed to pause as its hyperdrive engaged, accelerating faster than his eyes could follow. The lander did likewise a moment later as La’an eased back the actuator and settled in for what looked to be an hour in hyperspace.

“Sabbac?”

Fiction 14 "New Blood"

As the lander reverted to hyperspace the sensors took a moment to recalibrate, taking a heartbeat to reach out and categorise everything around – the TIE Shadow of Avenger ahead, the hull of the VSD Aggressor hanging in the void 2km away, the quartet of TIE Interceptors flying a racetrack circuit in the the space between. La’an breathed a sigh of relief, his luck had been poor of later and he had half expected the Aggressor to have already departed – much like the credits he had staked on an optimistic hand of Sabbac with his co-pilots and the two HF gunners that acted as the Bus’ crew. Suffice to say the corporal was significantly happier than he had been at the start of the mission…

“Greetings Aggressor, requesting landing clearance. Day code transmitting, our cargo is zero, crew is 5” La’an kept things short and to the point, waiting for the flight officer or fighter controller on the VSD to take charge and vector him in.

“Acknowledged, maintain course and speed, vector in at approach Alpha-3 from 200m out. No other traffic.” The reply was equally clear, an easy approach with nothing to worry about. Thankfully the lander was built to be accommodate by the Imperial vessel and would be able to slip comfortably into the main hangar. It looked like the Avenger TIE would follow them in later, so La’an focused his attentions on a smooth and perfectly executed landing, conscious that the Combat Operations Officer and his pilots would undoubtedly be watching from afar.

Within minutes the lander was sat on the VSD’s gleaming hangar deck, the black mirror finish as always making La’an appreciate the efforts of a destroyer’s deck crew. It amazed him that they managed as a matter of pride to keep such a functional space so efficient and clean. He had served on a range of ship’s that had struggled ti get anywhere near this standard, but the presence of a senior Admiral on board probably added a little motivation.

The selfsame Admiral was waiting for La’an as he made his way to the bridge, the junior officer sent to escort him following in his wake. La’an had served on and commanded a Victory and walking its halls and flats brought memories flooding back, even as he almost unconsciously took the shortest route to the command deck. The COO was waiting for him as the turbolift hissed open, leaning on the viewports by the side of the command walkway and watching the distant TIEs as they performed a series of drills and approaches, making mock attack runs against the Aggressor itself.

“3 is still flying too steady for too long, annotate the debrief to remind him – if he flies that way in combat any eager gunner is going to nail him with a bracket of turbolaser fire within the first few minutes. La’an, thank you for joining us!” Crsepe moved away from the viewports, a Wing Commander taking his place and maintaining the observation.

“It’s a pleasure Admiral, any additional manpower you can provide is gratefully accepted – we can host an extra squadron happily and it’ll ease the burden we’re under at the minute. Hopefully they’ll be back with you before the week is out.”

“Good, the experience will do them good, the CMDR’s a veteran but the rest are fresh from either training or first tours, time on an ISD should round off their experience nicely. The third flight were out when you came in, showing promise but just need more flight time.” Crsepe turned to watch the fighters again, noting with pleasure that the 3rd had taken onboard his critique, barrelling in at high speed and rolling away.

“What happened with the rendezvous? We were expecting you there, rather than a pair of dead corvettes?” La’an decided to mention the change in plans as the COO didn’t seem inclined to mention it first.

“Ah, I suspect our Void Raptor friends thought a risky gambit might somehow catch us off-guard. I’ve seen your intel from the ex-Imperials, the attackers matched the description of two of their M/CRV’s. Avenger were out in force and didn’t require assistance, but there was little to gain from hanging around. Captain Shar managed to miss the targets with a brace of torpedoes, hence his role as backstop.” Crsepe smiled, undoubtedly recalling the terse communications that must have flown from Avenger’s CMDR. He continued after a moment.

“Speaking of acting as a backstop, the only reason the Aggressor is in this region is to cover this sector – normally the Hammer would be responsible for this area but with the battering she’s taken her op area has been reduced and we’re taking up the slack. We’d have met the Warrior in person but we can’t leave the area undefended in the event that our opponents try to slip out of the noose we’re drawing around them. Comms would have been too much of a giveaway, hence your mission to shepherd my TIEs.”

“It’s one I’ll perform gladly, the last few weeks haven’t allowed much time to relax – this is as close as I’m going to get, but a dozen Interceptors should make the return journey more comfortable.” La’an smiled, “With your permission we’ll delay the return for a few hours to grab some sleep and sample the galley?”

“Of course, I’ll give the squadron a 4-hour notice to get themselves packed up – their support crew will need that long to stow themselves on your lander. The mob is operating under the designator Vulture, CMDR is an ex-Rho FL so should fit back in on the Warrior in a heartbeat. I won’t keep you, enjoy the return leg.” With that the COO turned and stalked away, within seconds deep in conversation with the Wing Commander and discussing the merits of the last approach.

Fiction 15 "Old Habits"

Rolling from his bunk he threw off his covers, hands reaching up to rub tired eyes as he checked the chron – 0400. He’d managed to sleep better for the first time in weeks, thanks in no small part to the naively willing pilots of Vulture volunteering to take up CAPs – every one of them eager to be there when the next attack launched, every one of them desperate to add a kill tally to their cockpit before uneasy peace settled again.

The Warrior seemed to vibrate gently for a second, La’an glancing towards the viewport to confirm what he already felt through the soles of his feet – the ship had transited into hyperspace towards the next combat area, following a lead on the last remnant of the Raptor’s operational strength – an ageing VSD that had somehow eluded the Challenge and Hammer’s attempts to back them into a corner.

Pulling on a flight suit and comfortable, fleece lined flying boots, La’an paused for a second to check his pockets and insignia, old ingrained habits buried deep after years of Imperial discipline and service. Running a hand through his hair he retrieved a dataslate from the desk in his day cabin, heading for the door and down to the main hangar. The ship was eerily quiet, red-lighting in the corridors signalling the night cycle – the only means of really enforcing any sense of time onboard such an artificial construct as a warship. The rest of the squadron wasn’t expected to stir and report for duty until 0600 but it gave La’an precious time to run through flight reports, performance evaluations and a check of Theta’s ships – a tactile chance to see for himself just what condition the squadron was in. While the Crew Chief and his maintenance team were top notch he could never simply trust in their experience, he had to check for himself – something neither bridled at, simply a good sign of an efficient team conscious of safety and the danger they all faced every day.

Reaching the crew lounge La’an quietly poured a cup of recaf from the steaming pot, a miraculous affair that he had yet to see empty at any stage in the last 2 years. Settling into a comfortable nerf-skin chair in a corner of the broad space he began to read through his dataslate. The background noise of circulating fans and humming conduits was almost unnoticeable, unlike the snoring and heavy breathing coming from the four Vulture pilots asleep across the chairs at the opposite end of the room. Four more of their colleagues were idling in the squadron ready room adjacent to the hangar and at 5 minutes notice to launch. The four here were at alert-15, time enough for them to be kicked awake and in their fighters within 5 minutes, in the void 5 minutes beyond that with time to spare.

Tuning out their addition to the background noise La’an sipped his teaming mug, annotating his files with a deft touch, eyes scanning messages and data packets. He approved maintenance orders, queried statistics, refused permission to add nose-art – all the trivia expected of a line CMDR. Noting a more secure file he opened it to see the latest intel brief for the days activity. They were expected to drop out of hyperspace around 1600, into a secondary threat area with no resistance expected. Hostility could be expected from 1800 as they microjumped to the last known co-ordinates of the Raptor’s flagship and hopefully picked up the trail. With the defection of a frigate and loss of a handful of corvettes in the last days alone the Raptor’s force was shrinking rapidly, but they couldn’t rule out the presence of any lingering NR backers. Since the loss of the Rising Tide the NR elements had almost completely vanished, presumably withdrawing back across the border and accepting that their gambit had failed – the EH wouldn’t be stung into providing a prelude to war by pursuing the Raptors into NR space.

It looked like the Raptors had been hung out to dry, likely unable to find any support in NR space and seeking desperately for a bolthole in the neutral or uncontested territory around the EH border. If that was their plan as the intel suggested then they would be disappointed, last year’s campaign had allowed the remnants to disperse to freely, they wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. Stifling a yawn, La’an replaced the mug and dataslate on the table beside him, standing to stretch his legs and get the blood flowing. 0530 – 90 minutes gone without much to show, but leaving an hour before breakfast for his craft inspection. Moving with purpose he slipped the dataslate into a baggy flightsuit pocket, draining his mug with a gulp before leaving it for the morning’s on-coming steward, heading for the door.

Fiction 16 "Blockade"

Woody watched the vessels under his command maintain their formation without deviation or any sign of difficulty – the TC had throughout everything maintained its professionalism. Warlords and Imperial remnants of the past had managed to hold onto fragments of their Empire and none, perhaps bar Thrawn or Daala, had managed to keep their forces so well drilled and effective. While the EH was a tiny fragment, even within the broad Minos Cluster never mind the galaxy, they were doing well to maintain the fleet at a suitable level. While most taskgroups fulfilled garrison duties and commanded limited areas of responsibility, minimising their potential for exhaustion or damage, it was down to the core of the TC to act as the tip of the spear – the Hammer and the Warrior, with the Challenge pressed into service as required when she could be spared from the defensive cordon around Aurora Prime.

The Hammer and her group dominated Woody’s thoughts at present. While the lesser vessels and escorts had performed admirably, even now maintaining a broad cordon around the target system to blockade any Raptor forces seeking escape, their flagship had seemed to struggle. In readiness for the assault on what was believed to be the Raptor’s main base Woody had requested full reports on all three ISDs – the vessels that would make the direct assault while their respective fleets maintained the blockade and protected the Interdictors pinning the Raptors into their lair. Driving the three ISD’s like the blade of a gladius into the heart of the enemy defences was potentially overkill, but the concept was one Woody and his fellow Admirals could accept without comment – everyone wanted to resolve this current campaign within the month and send a clear message to the enemy and their backers.

That being said Woody had determined to hold the Hammer back, a decision he knew would lead to vehement argument with the ship’s Commodore. While the Warrior would lead the way with the Challenge in her wake the Hammer would act as a deployable reserve, ready to press the attack where it was needed. At this stage the damage she had taken and the loss of nearly half her fighter complement made her more vulnerable than Woody was willing to accept. The Warrior on the other hand was as effective as it could be, her minimal lossed supplemented by the squadron and pilots provided by the COO. The Challenge had taken similarly light damage and some 90% of her wing remained combat effective.

The Raptors had already picked up their presence, the blockade a public and all too visible reminder that they had been trapped. Earlier attempts by lone fighters and corvettes to escape had been quickly stamped on, no further efforts being made. A call to surrender had been issued in a rare act of mercy by the TCCOM, but no response had been received. It fell to them to root the enemy from their lair however they could, it would be bloody and hard but thankfully brief if all went to plan.

The system was small, it’s dying star casting a fitful and brooding glow across the inner reaches and the sole planetoid, a lifeless volcanic rock under constant stress from the nearby sun. An inner belt of asteroids signalled the remains of at least a pair of planets, a collision aeons ago having left nothing in their wake but rocky fragments. The selfsame catastrophe had created the dust clouds that filled the middle reach of the system, an area that tentative probes had identified as at least partially mined – it was from beyond this series of clouds that the EH forces sat in blockade, sensors turned inwards to detect any attempt to flee or fight.

Reassuringly the defectors and Woody had been able to build a measure of trust, enough for him to believe that their intel was genuine, the safe routes on their systems reliable enough to risk taking two ISD’s in to the clouds and beyond. The main Raptor base had been established on an asteroid fragment the size of a small moon, presumably the sight of a former illegal mining claim – the defectors had spoken of a series of broad caverns settled with habitation pods and power, a main hangar large enough for 7-8 squadrons of fighters and smaller capships in need of re-fit. The VSD would be stood off from the main site, but close enough to cover it from attack. A half dozen turbolser batteries had been offloaded to smaller asteroids to defend against fighter attack, but otherwise the ISDs need only worry about snubfighters and the VSD, the half dozen remaining corvettes and any other light capital ships would be brushed aside.

“Signal the Warrior as soon as she arrives, senior officers to report on-board for briefing. The go-time is set at T-minus 4 hours. Get ready gentlemen, this is almost at an end.”

Fiction 17 "Assault"

Frodo frowned as the shields flared, the dust of the system’s clouds almost blinding his sensors and proving a considerable obstacle to simply seeing where they were going. The presence of a minefield was something in the back of his mind, but he was reassured that it was limited in size and short of driving into it the sensors on the mines would be just as blind as his own. Like an ancient seagoing vessel they would only be in danger if they drove over one – that being said the ISD was large enough that the safe routes couldn’t be guaranteed as such, while the Raptor’s VSD was able to come and go at will the ISD was an entirely different prospect.

As if tempting fate the Warrior shook momentarily as a mine detonated, the bow shields having triggered it’s sensitive actuators. A second followed within moments, silence following for the next nervous heartbeats.

“Shields are at 98% and holding, no detriment to systems, no damage.” The ship’s senior engineer relayed his subordinate’s reports as they came into the bridge. Frodo nodded his acknowledgement. Running a quick calculation in his head he predicted that the clouds would thin in just over 30 seconds, the Warrior then emerging into the wanly lit inner system and able to see first hand what was opposing them. He didn’t enjoy surprised, but equally the Raptor’s wouldn’t feel too much confidence as first the Warrior and then the Challenge emerged from the sensor-blocking dust with no warning. They had chose their hideout well, but it was just as efficient a tomb and perhaps had doomed them through its sheer isolation and inability to see beyond.

---

“Two explosions reported by the Warrior, mine contacts, they’re pressing on.” Only scratchy, narrowband comms could be maintained with the lead ISD, but it was enough for the Challenge’s communications officer to relay updates to the TCCOM and SOO as they stood on the walkways above the starboard crew pit.

“Understood, helm maintain course and speed, keep distance to the Warrior at a kilometre – standby for potential course change in 60 seconds.” Woody’s Flag Captain calmly replied, maintaining the efficient and calm atmosphere in the bridge – the Admirals would take no direct role unless required, leaving the fighting of the ship to it’s commanding officer and only interjecting should they feel the need to do so. The dust thinned as the bow and the rest of the ship passed through the edge of clouds, revealing the inner system and the form of the Warrior directly ahead.

The inner system was shrouded from the outside galaxy by the broad clouds, their dark browns and greys catching the wan crimson light of the star. The loose belt of asteroids and accretion turned lazily, a collection of rock and iron in ever varying form and scale. The sole planetoid was barely visible in close orbit of the sun, a dark speck across the crimson surface. What was visible at this point were there opponents – a VSD hanging in almost splendid isolation, sensors revealing smaller ships moving into a supporting formation. 5 corvettes of varying type, a pair of rugged Corellian gunships, a pair of light, Lancer frigates, The swarming shoals of fighters, invisible at this range to the naked eye, were visible from the sensor screens. More boiled from the main asteroid, but thankfully the numbers were lower than expected, just over 8 full squadrons of mixed TIE types, X-Wings, IRDs and occasional Uglies. Enough to put up a fight, but barring disaster nowhere near enough to prevent their defeat at the hands of the Empire’s finest warships.

“All fighters are go to launch, ready main batteries. Send word to the blockade that we are engaging the enemy.” The Flag Captain gave the word, the Wing Commander echoing his order as the fighter status board began to rapidly fill with flashing idents and IFF tags.

---

“ All squadrons away, Sin and Theta are holding back to cover, remainder are driving in to establish superiority” Frown reported to Frodo as soon as the last craft had cleared its cradle and launched.

“Understood, the Challenge’s squadrons will be 30 seconds behind them. All fighters are to establish superiority but remain out of range of the static defences – they’re for us. If it looks like the fighter screen is falling back to their ship’s, don’t let them get drawn onto the frigates and gunships.” Frodo reiterated his orders again for the entire bridge, clear to make sure no room for confusion remained.

---

Theta Leader monitored the screens, watching both sides fighter screens rushing together to engage, volleys of warheads spearing out from both formations as the range closed. Enemy fighters began to blink out in ones and twos, thankfully at a faster pace than the TC icons. A few seconds later the Challenge’s squadrons arrived and the enemy losses began to accelerate – 4 of their 8 squadrons failing to survive the first 3 minutes of combat.

“They’re falling back, trying to draw us onto their guns.” Nebular offered an opinion from his co-pilot’s station.

“Undoubtedly, but even with that VSD our guns are bigger – they’re going to have to go toe to toe with us, it’s the only chance they have of keeping us off heir fighters and letting them try to find a gap in our defences.” La’an could see the next few minutes becoming bloody indeed. A quick glance at the ISD’s positions made it clear, both proceeding ahead at combat speed, a quartet of squadrons covering them against warheads or particularly suicidal attack runs. The capital ships would be in range within moments and it would make the fighter brawl look almost friendly…

Fiction 18 "Destruction"

The VSD was firmly bracketed by heavy battery fire, both EH ISD’s pouring their dorsal batteries entire strength into the smaller ship. Bow batteries and warhead launchers joined the fray with a storm of smaller weapons and torpedoes, a blistering rate of fire forcing the VSD further back towards the dubious cover of the asteroid belt.

The enemy fighter force continued to disintegrate, their ships outmatched by increasingly confident and bloodthirsty TC TIEs and missile boats, wreaking a bloody tally amongst the mismatched Raptor forces. Less than a score of enemy fighters remained, none engaged in attack, all desperately flying by skill alone and trying to simply survive the onslaught of three times their number.

The ventral batteries of the Warrior had switched their attention to a pair of gunships, the blocky vessels having surged forward in an attempt to drive under the ship’s exposed underside and distract from the punishing assault on the VSD. While noble neither ship stood a chance and were quickly made to think again, their shields disappearing under heavy laser fire. Without fighter support they fell prey to the roaming form of Sin squadrons missile boats, Plif co-ordinating an almost immaculate wave attack on their sterns with alternating blasts of torpedo and missile fire. As the first crumpled, its battered hull giving way and breaking apart under the relentless attack, the second attempted to disengage, increasing its speed in an attempt to break past the Warrior and out into the clouds beyond.

Theta’s missile boats quickly ended such a desperate move, the twin boats of Generals Yoda and Pellaeon quickly identifying the fleeing ship and scoring a half-dozen torpedo hits between them. A series of explosions internally signalled the death throes of the gunship’s resistance, engines dying as fire consumed the burning hulk.

“Well done, but eyes on the prize. Let the TIEs keep the last fighters busy, your priority is that Lancer – Can’t let the Challenge have the glory!” La’an redirected their efforts as the lander swung around to follow them in, its own warhead launchers still fully stocked and shields rugged enough to absorb the frigates attentions and hopefully keep the missile boats safe from harm

The VSD slowed it’s retreat as room to manoeuvre almost completely disappeared, it’s back to the almost literal wall. A probing attack from Kappa saw a fighter lost to the static turbolasers, finally within range of TC targets. The remainder of the squadron pulled away seeking earlier prey, falling on the other Lancer as it’s shield collapsed under fire from Sigma. Between the two squadrons and 30 intense seconds the ship was gutted from stem to stern, weapons falling silent and venting atmosphere.

Three remaining corvettes pulled back at a faster rate, harried all the way by fighters. In their haste they strayed into the upper edge of the asteroid belt, one colliding quickly with a gunship sized fragment of once-planetary crust – its crumpled form was struck again in quick succession by a tail of smaller fragments of rock and iron. The remaining pair continued to drive for the edge of the clouds, but looked unlikely to make it much farther. Even as the sensor officers of the Warrior and Challenge tracked their escape vectors the TIE’s of Cyclone rolled in to the attack, ion and laser leaving one aflame and the other disabled – a fact that didn’t stop a passing Skipray from the Warrior peppering the hull with heavy lasers as it crossed his fire arcs.

The ISDs continued their drive forwards, the Warrior peeling away to bring its batteries to bear against the asteroid mounted weapons, silencing each in rapid succession with a spray of heavy ion and laser fire. As it did so the Challenge executed a partial roll to port, three batteries falling silent as the VSD passed out of their arcs. Any relief on the Raptor’s part was to be short-lived, the Challenge’s manoeuvre being the most expedient route to deliver their other payload – a dozen heavily armoured shuttles bursting from the ventral hangar in little more than a direct line to their target, the ISDs roll allowing the bulk of their transit to be covered by its shields or hull. Without fighters and with most of its weapons out of action the VSD offered little resistance.

One shuttle took a direct hit to the engines, limping to a stop and attempting to control its attitude – hanging in space they would normally have proven too tempting a target but their own prey had other issues to content. The remaining ATRs made contact quickly, heading for access ports and hangars, clamping to the deck and using their dedicated thermal equipment and weapons to blow their way into the crippled ship.

Wary of hitting their own forces the Challenge ceased fire, the Warrior following suit within moments as the last resistance was wiped out. No unwounded ship survived, the only enemy fighters crippled or dead hulks. The last of the VSD’s main weapons had fallen silent as they contended with the more immediate threat of several hundred HF boarders, follow on waves already departing the Challenge while the first wave of the Warrior’s shuttles approached the main base under the cover of Kappa and Sigma squadrons guns.

“Remain at battle stations, dispatch SAR shuttles and lets deal with those hulks – if there are survivors I want them apprehended, if they’re waiting for a chance to run don’t give them the opportunity.” Frodo’s orders were clear, his voice calm – expecting victory was one thing, seeing it happen as expected brought immense relief.

“Sir, ground forces report beachhead achieved, they’re passing through the defences with minimal resistance.”

---

“Imperial troops have entered the base, Imperial troops ha…” the main broadcast fizzled into static as the Raptor control centre was hit by a series of stun grenades, the rough and well used-compartment lit as never before by a series of blinding flashes and auditory shocks. The dozen or so personnel dropped to cover or flailed in the open, HF troops stunning them with precise blasts in accordance with their capture orders. The sole Raptor to recover quickly, a Bothan with pale blonde fur and presumably less affected, reached for a weapon – a decision they regretted as soon as the first shot struck their shoulder, the decidedly more lethal weapons of the second section of HF troops finding their mark. The aroma of singed fur grew stronger as a pair of bolts joined the first, the last striking the throat and ending his cry of resistance in a messy gurgle of fused cartilage.

Further into the base the lasr remnants of the group were under the same assault, the scattered 200 or so a wild mix of human and other species, idealists and fanatics. Most surrendered rather than fight and they were stunned all the same, coming to cuffed and lined up for dispatch back to the cells onboard the Warrior and less than friendly interrogations. The fortunate would be put to use or offered deals to provide intel or evidence, the unfortunate would end up in a penal colony or worse. A handful resisted capture as the noose closed around them, to all intents Raptors but in reality the handlers placed their by the NR to co-ordinate their attacks.

Breaking away as soon as the ISDs had entered the inner system their escape vessel had lain undiscovered as they hurriedly prepared it to launch. Almost by chance a section of HF troops happened upon the tiny hangar, their first man taking hits from the wary Rebels. Forcing an entry with grenades the HF troops made progress, forcing their opponents to retreat back to the hatch of their ship – a sleek, compact shuttle whose hull began to carbon scar as blasts targeted its occupants. With a sudden flare of engines the shuttle broke from the hangar, even as the HF troops reported its flight…

Fiction 19 "Rats from a sinking ship"

The ship burst through the cordon almost before it was noticed, its sharp-edged hull seeming to repel scanners – heavy jamming signals emanating from an EW system onboard. It’s turn of speed surprised even the TIE pilots turning almost slowly in comparison to give chase. Taking a dangerous route through the asteroid field the shuttle seemed to be taking a well practiced or incredibly fortunate route, narrowly avoiding the erratic and unpredictable rocks. Two Interceptors, Vulture squadrons closest, pursued them into the field, attempting to track the craft across it’s dangerous course. The first pulled away, it’s vector suddenly cut off by a fragment of rock large enough to smash the fighter apart. The second rolled to avoid the same obstacle, rapidly changing course but spiralling straight into another that the pilot simply hadn’t seen. The explosion of its ion engines was like a slap to the face of the Theta CMDR watching over sensors – another young life lost.

“We’re out of position to intercept – it’s down to the blockade to pick up. Give them the word and the likely vector!” La’an almost screamed at the comms officer onboard the Warrior, his rage boiling over.

---

The NR shuttle cruised through the dust cloud, following a pre-programmed safe route past the lightly scattered mines in the sector. The three Intel officers onboard had triggered their emergency recovery beacon as soon as the TC attack had started, it’s powerful signal transmitting straight to their mother ship. While most of the NR assets had pulled back in defeat a last Intel frigate had remained to sow the border with weapons drops, listening stations or probes and anything else that might assist a future intrusion. It was the same ship that even now would be heading for their rendezvous if they could only meet her outside the dust clouds.

“We’re free of them, they haven’t got the forces to actually blockade the system – it’s the only reason they launched the attack that way” the senior, an older Quarren, laughed, whooping in celebration of their escape. His human counterparts remained stonily silent, both far more aware of the intel picture that their superior.

“You’ll see – how long till we’re clear of the clou…” the Quarren fell silent as the clouds parted, the black of space and the gleam of stars filling the viewport. Rather the parts of the viewport not filled by the ISD Hammer, its bow towards them and the distance closing rapidly as she moved to cut off the exit vector. As the NR shuttle rolled in to dive beneath the ISD the next sight took what remained of their breath away.

---

The NR frigate shuddered under the latest volley, the Hammer’s gunners pouring volleys into the crippled hull – keen to recover what reputation they could after being removed from the initial assault. Dempsey had driven the ISD right at the ship as it emerged from hyperspace, caught unawares by both the gunships of this section of the blockade and the white dagger of a Star Destroyer bearing down on their position. The gunships had peeled away and bracketed the frigate from below, the Hammer having attacked from above. The space between the two was filling with fighters as the ready squadrons launched, Alpha and Epsilon first into the fray and adding their own shots to the wounded frigate.

The NR shuttle was detected visually as it emerged from the cloud, it’s jamming tech still rendering it largely undetectable by sensors. Alpha’s squadron XO sighted it as soon as it appeared, struggling to keep an eye on it as it dove desperately to avoid the onrushing Hammer. The TIE Defender spat bright ion fire as it stripped the shuttles shields, screeching past with a characteristic scream of ion engines that the shuttles audio pickups rendered into a banshee-like wail. As the shuttle’s systems overloaded with energy the engines cut out, life support failing and the power hungry jamming systems failing.

“SAR Alpha, disabled shuttle at my six, target for recovery as soon as…” The TIE Defender rolled away again, double-checking his sensors, “Belay that, it’s gone.” Forgetting it quickly he brought his TIE around to get a last pass on the frigate.

---

Vulture’s CMDR breathed deeply, he’d followed the shuttle into the clouds blindly, driven on by rage and idiocy, fuelled by adrenaline and a need for vengeance. He’d punched through unscathed, in time to see the TIE Defender of Alpha disable the sleek craft that had, as far as he was concerned, killed his pilot. As the Defender had rolled elegantly away he hadn’t thought twice, arming a pair of concussion missiles and loosing them immediately.

The cowards hadn’t fought, they’d fled as soon as the string os their pupperts were cut. He’d once heard an adage about vermin leaving a ship before it sank, it sprang to mind as he watched the missile trails run straight and true, impacting simultaneously and reducing the covert craft to a less than subtle fireball of exploding debris. Turning back to his own console he eyed the damage to his ship from earlier in the fight, deciding discretion to be the better part of valour he opened a channel to the Hammer to request landing clearance and let go of his last ember of rage.

"Duty's burden" by Captain Hawkins

CPT Hawkins slumped into the chair in the pilot’s lounge, and waved over one of the service staff. A drink was hurriedly prepared and delivered, and Hawkins downed it with barely a pause. Whatever it was, it had insufficient a kick to satisfy, and a flavour that could best be described as bland. Wouldn’t do to be drunk on duty, and the staff in the lounge knew well enough the burden of duty placed on every one of the pilots of the TIE Corps during the current operations.

Hawkins gazed through tired eyes at the holo-display, names and statistics swimming across its surface. He smiled at what he saw, despite his deep fatigue. The Warrior Battlegroup was driving far into the territories occupied by the Republic, well ahead of her sister ship, the Hammer and her battegroup. He waved for another drink, took it, and raised it to the Warrior. He must have spoken aloud, for a tired chorus joined in with the informal salute. He glanced around the room, and saw several pilots that looked equally as drained as he was.

The pilots of the Warrior, the whole TIE Corps for that matter, were a proud bunch, and would not let so simple a thing as fatigue prevent them from flying missions, especially when speed was of the essence. Victory in this campaign would be won through an unrelenting drive onwards, never allowing the Republic to recover or mount a counter offensive. Such a tactic was undeniably effective, but it took its toll. Hawkins looked again at the holo-display, shook his head and smiled. The mission count of many top pilots was incredible. His own Commander has set a target of 150 sorties flown in 30 days. Five combat flights a day... and some of the pilots were already approaching double that. When did they sleep?

He suspected he knew the answer. Along with the drinks provided, there were plenty of combat stimulants available. Many swore by them - "like ten hours of good, deep sleep, and four square meals" – that was what they said. You felt like you were invincible; that your missiles would never run out, enemy fire would bounce harmlessly off your shields, hell, that you could fly your ship right through the bridge window of a Calamari Cruiser and out the other side without so much as a scratch. Time seemed to pass by in a blur, ships wheeling around before your eyes... and yet, never so that you couldn’t track and take them down.

Hawkins didn’t care for stims. He liked to know his kill count was his own, and not that of some chemical cocktail. That said, a good cocktail of more common chemicals, those of the alcoholic variety, would go down a treat right now. Those would have to wait. Orders were to push on, and there was no way to do that and get the sleep he so sorely needed.

A siren wailed twice, announcing that the pilots were needed once again. Hawkins stood with the others and headed for the door, and onwards to the hanger bay. No time to stop even for briefings, objectives could be reviewed in flight. As he approached his ship, a member of the medical staff approached, autosyringe in hand. Hawkins tilted his head, exposing his neck. The autosyringe hissed as it filled his bloodstream with the stims he knew he needed if they had any chance of success. Clamping on his helmet, he climbed into the cockpit as the familiar sensations flooded his mind. He knew there would be a price to pay, a physical exhaustion like never before, once all this was over. But right now, he didn’t care. He was invincible, an impossible pilot – immune to any harm, armed with an unlimited arsenal. He was going to single handedly destroy entire fleets, single handedly drive the Republic from Emperor’s Hammer space.

Sleep could wait.

"Imperial News Network" by Captain Hawkins

The TIE Corps of the Emperor’s Hammer have struck a decisive blow against Republic incursions into Imperial Territories, Admiral Elwood announced today.

The Republic forces have been unable to repel the might of the TIE Corps, and are in retreat across the sector, a statement released on behalf of the admiralty has announced.

“The Republic must learn that they cannot simply invade Emperor’s Hammer territory, threaten our interstellar security, and expect us to sit by and do nothing,” Commodore High Admiral March told us following the release of the statement. “The squadrons of the ISDII Warior have the Republic aggressors routed in every system, and we will soon have regained full control of all systems.”

The Republic have issued a response that has already been widely discredited by many within the Emperor’s Hammer security forces.

The Republic claim that they have no significant military forces deployed within Imperial territories, and that those there are peaceful settlers who believed they were setting up colonies in neutral space, as is permitted in the non-aggression pact signed between the Emperor’s Hammer and the Republic.

However, such claims have been widely dismissed by Intelligence Personnel. “Are we to believe that the Republic has played no part in the occupation of strategically significant systems within or near to Emperor’s Hammer space? This is clearly at attempt to establish a military presence within striking distance of our own core systems,” One operative has told the INN.

Leading the attack has been the current flag ship of the fleet, the ISDII Warrior.

Other vessels to be confirmed to have been deployed are the ISD Challenge, ISD Hammer and the VSD Aggressor.

Early reports indicate that the brave forces of the TIE Corps have made significant progress on all fronts, and all republic forces are in retreat.

Republic propaganda claiming that there have been several massacres of civilian populations through indiscriminate orbital bombardments have been strongly refuted by Imperial Officials.

“We are confident all targets are of a military nature, and will deal with them as such,” One officer informed us. “Civilian refugees are being directed to resettlement camps, where they will be thoroughly assessed for any Republic sympathies. Those determined to be a threat to security will be dealt with appropriately. Those who may be of use to the Emperor’s Hammer will be given the opportunity to work in service to our industrial processes.

The location of these camps is classified, as a matter of Imperial Security.

"A pilot is always prepared" by Lieutenant-Commander Spiffy the Chicken

Opening an aft panel on his gunboat, he inspected the wiring. Using a hand held micro scanner with one hand and a palm sized monitor in the other, each and every connection was checked and double checked. There was a buzz going about the low ranks of a big movement. These suspicions where confirmed when they met up with the ISD II Hammer now floating a few kilometers away.

“Good, everything checks out. Now to try my modifications.”

Spiffy liked to add a bit of his own flair to whatever standard issue ship he was assigned. It gave the ship soul. Even if that soul was temperamental. He turned around and pulled out a small grey box. Turning his attention back to the open panel, he began cutting and soldering in the connections for the new box. Once complete, he mounted the box on the inside of the panel cover and place it back.

“Alright, time to see if the lights will turn on.”

He walked around to the cockpit and opened the hatch. Reaching in, Spiffy flipped on the electronic systems. A pleasing purr came from the Iotek reactor.

“Ooooo pretty lights” Spiffy smiled from ear to ear. The glittering screens and indicator lights began their normal warmup routine. Everything seemed to work so far. He leaned in to watch the rest of the sequence. Then over the din of the hangar bay, he heard a voice all too familiar.

“Lieutenant Commander Spiffy, I hope you aren’t trying another one of your modifications without my permission.” Commander Len Eode sternly remarked.

Surprised, Spiffy attempts to stand at attention and bumps his head on the hatch. Falling out onto the floor.

“No, no, no, no, no! I wouldn’t dream of doing such and act buddy! Especially after the last time when you had to fish me out of an asteroid crater. You have to admit the Idea is still a good one though, by running a repeater around a hyper drive motivator-

“Spiffy”

“-we could easily add an extra parsec to the range of-

“Spiffy” Len glared at him, “It is Commander Len to you...” he raised one eyebrow, “…and your cockpit is smoking.”

Spiffy wheeled around looking at the smoking cockpit. “Uhhhh” There was a spark, then a bang as the panel Spiffy just worked on flew off. The gunboat’s reactor gave a heavy sigh then shut down.

“That…is not supposed to happen.” Spiffy tried to chuckle but was cut off by a second loud BANG of the panel impacting on the wall. Len was not amused. Spiffy stood up and saluted Len, “Commander, I am fully ready to explain my actions.”

“We will talk about it later, right now I need you to come with me to the meeting room on deck 5.”

“Yes sir”

The two went to leave the hangar deck. Len began to brief him on the meeting.

“As we have all suspected, something big is going down. We still have a war to fight and a galaxy to keep safe.” The duo rounded the corner and entered the elevator. As the doors closed behind them, Len continued, “Orders have finally come down from the admiralty. Sigma has been given a new mission.” The elevator stops and they exit. The two walk in silence, Spiffy can hardly hold back his excitement. He could not wait to prove his worth. Ever since his arrival on the ISD II Warrior, he had hoped for that one moment. Len reached for the keypad to open the door and paused. “What exactly did you do to your gunboat?” There was a silence for a few seconds the Spiffy began to explain.

“You see, the word going around is that the Void are back and I was trying to add a new sensor array to help me find and target then in nebula…”

Len turned to look at Spiffy, he was surprised something so useful didn’t come with a catch. Then Spiffy smiled and continued,

“…oh and it makes for a killer light show. Once the target is located, something like 30 different lights will flicker.”

Len cracked a smile. There’s the Spiffy he knew from training. Times may have changed, but his shenanigans sure hadn’t. They entered the meeting room. CPT Crix was the only one there. He stood as they entered.

“Sir!” Crix said sternly. Len nodded and motioned for them all to sit. He turned on the projection, which showed a map of the Trans-Vulta sector.

“Men, the Void are not operating in the Mid Rim. It is the New Republic using the abandoned Void facilities. Specifically, a few located in the Ryyk Nebula. They are terrorizing the trade routes through this sector. If they aren’t put to a stop and the NR gain control of this sector, it would give them easy transport between the Inner rim and Outer Rim. ”

Len looked at his two flight leaders. This was a big threat to the Empire. If this guerilla warfare tactic works, it would mean the NR could get anywhere. The war would escalate again. Plus, it would divide the Mid Rim. None of which is good news for the Empire.

The map zooms in to a nebula, “Inside the Ryyk Nebula, there is an old Void platform used for fast repair and resupply. The NR have been repurposing it as a base of operations.” As Len continued the map animates his words, “We will be providing the big guns. Our first task is to destroy anything on that platform that isn’t ours. A strike team will arrive before you to draw their fire and destroy the turrets. Once space is clear, the second task is to provide cover so a boarding party can begin the internal assault. Our third task is to destroy the platform, if the internal assault fails.”

A silence falls between the three of them. The NR operating this aggressively means they are getting bolder. Pressure was mounting for the Empire to ensure the safety of the Central Sectors. Failure would not look good for anyone.

“When do we leave Len?” Spiffy asked.

“You have five hours to prepare.” Len answered. “You are to run full diagnostics on all major systems. Make sure all warheads are loaded and ready; I want to be prepared for anything the NR might try and pull. We now know they are operating in this sector so expect a counter attack to break a hole for them to escape through. Do not give the NR that chance.”

Crix looks down from the projection, “What kind of weapons do they have?”

“The reported trade attacks have suggested at least a couple dozen X-wing, and A-wing class ships. We have no hard data on the exact amount operating out of the platform. The nebula makes it difficult to get clean readings.” Len was worried. He knew he could be sending his men into a possible death trap. From talk with his fellow Commanders, this wasn’t the only death trap pilots might walk into. Maybe not even the last. A necessary risk any TIE pilot takes. Just you hope that when the Bantha fodder hits the fan, you have the tools to come out on top. The meeting ends, CPT Crix and LCM Spiffy leave while Len stays to go over the laundry list of things he has to do before joining his own flight for the upcoming battle.

"Last Stand for the TIE Corps" from Colonel Golbez Harvey

339-H-KL-0301 sector / Imperial Star Destroyer II Hammer – Unknown space.

Wing I Beta Squadron Briefing room 6:50 hours

Golbez Harvey, Colonel and CMDR of Beta Squadron wasn’t pleased at all, it was too early, haven’t had his breakfast yet, this of course would have bothered the morning of anyone, but it wasn’t by far what it really worries him. On contrary it was much more worrying the shrunken and terrifying image that the LT was showing, misaligned and distressed in front of him. The Colonel intuited that the officer was a carrier of bad news.

- Lieutenant Phalharris: It’s a big attack, sir. There are hundreds of them and they have taken us completely by surprise, how?. The Lieutenant stopped his speech for a moment and supported his kneels gasping intensely while he tried to recover his breath.
- Lieutenant Phalharris: There are a lot of dead, Colonel.

The Colonel knew this was true. Wing I just hypered out of combat area returning from an unsuccessful space battle against the NR, loosing many man. Those were the orders from the chain of command to the Hammer and Warrior. Beta Squadron was the squadron which suffered the most, Beta is a fine Squadron, proudly one of the best Squadrons in the Emperor’s Hammer History, but these days it has a lot of accidents and no recruits on his ranks.

Golbez cursed to himself, it was too soon, that should not be happening yet, the battle was just starting. He took several months waiting for reinforcements that did not come. Where the hell are they up to? In any case, that was not now the most important issue, whatever it was that had delayed their arrival, would have to face the Rebel attack without them. This posed a serious setback, but there was no alternative but to adjust to the situation

He had not expected the New Rebels had so much courage and firepower. Maybe the TIE CORPS COM and all the Admiralty board underestimated them too much. The situation in the sector was not clear to any of them either, it wasn’t clear to anyone. Until now, all the Rebels did was fleeing his ships and the TIE Corps defeated them again and again, perhaps a decoy. It seemed that they had decided to take the initiative. And HA Anahorn Dempsey had to admit that the Colonel had been right, because it was extremely inappropriate for the moment to try to annihilate the NR in this new territory. It was not just that the aid does not come, but it also he was not in its best condition. Due to the lack of pilots in the Squadron, Beta was the last squadron to land off the ISD II Hammer hangar bay after the “recognition” mission.

With a frown on his face, Golbez lead his pilots towards the briefing room, silently. LC Kyle Kroan, was the only one who didn't seem to mind the current situation, as if he was sure beforehand that things were about to change. For a moment, he thought about initiating a small bit of conversation before they meet the other squadrons, but the silence of the other pilots, the deep thoughts of Golbez, and the situation itself told him this was a moment of silence.

As they arrived to the briefing room, some officers had already left, apparently too frustrated with the situation. HA Anahorn Dempsey was not there, and so, the pilots were dismissed, even if some decided to stay and speculate about the situation. As he sat down with other squadron members, Colonel Alexander Almasy almost shouted. "How long we will be in this sector anyway?!? This whole situation is draining, and utterly pointless!." The other few pilots who still were in the room stared at him, they couldn’t help but agree. MAJ Iceman, from Alpha squadron, replied too, venting his frustration, followed by other pilots and CMDRs, who all agreed it is about time they move out, to reorganize and think in a better strategy.

"But still, we cannot help but continue in the fight, these decisions are not up to us" said VA Pellaeon who appeared from a corner, remembering everyone of what their true positions were. At this, even if some of them decided to stay and continue studying the situation, the pilots decided to go to the hangars to prepare for the next mission.

- VA Palleon: CMDR, tell me again, what is your name?

(The Colonel had just arrived from the Reserves)

- Golbez Harvey, sir, the Colonel replied quickly, as he stood at attention and saluted smartly.
- VA Palleon: Listen to me carefully, Golbez. This is the first and only thing we do: Only one order, RESIST AND RESIST!. There’s no time to get back and analyze the situation. We have to regain the initiative.

The corridors of the Hammer were now just unpopulated with only maintenance droids doing their duties after the last NR attack. The Colonel was a fierce and rare species belonging to that offered its best in battle; he knew it has no time for regrets. He decided to act calmly, but with determination, so he took his helmet, suppressing a wince: It was important not to appear weak or indecisive. And their effort seemed to work: Lieutenant Phalharris, who had acted as harbinger of bad news, did not notice the internal battle that untied the thoughts of his CMDR. On the contrary, seeing stand up to his superior, he regained his composure to the surprise that the Rebel advance had caused. He knew what to do in difficult times and needed his men obeyed with blind faith. He lit a cigar and looked intently and with courage at the LT, he felt courage back again to his being. The Colonel repeated in his mind the orders of VA Palleon again and again: RESIST RESIST!, as he grimaced revealing his lust for revenge, his desire to strike back the damage they were receiving. And he does not expect less from their Admirals.

The Colonel ran to the hangar under the watchful gaze of Vice Admiral Palleon, he did not think, under any circumstances to defraud their comrades, no matter how complicated the situation was.

South of 339-H-KL-0301 sector
Imperial Star Destroyer II Challenge – Unknown space.

In rare cases, a physical trait is an unmistakable sign of the personality of an individual. In these circumstances, when the external appearance hints at an inner personality and becomes something that defines the person. This was certainly something that occurred to the Tie Corps Commander AD Elwood the Brave. That physical trait, also betrayed another inherent personality: It was a proud, defiant man. One of those who base their entire existence to defend the honor of the Empire and their comrades, he was responsible for leading a huge machinery, whose duty was to avoid in any way the advance of the NR in this new territory. And, so far, he had failed miserably.

The Admiral, brooding, deep in his thoughts, was aware of the damage the Hammer was taking. He came to the conclusion that it was time to act, and so he had conveyed to his subordinates.

- It's a risky attack, Admiral, said VA Crsepe.

VA Crsepe was second in command at this moment. His cautious nature made him keep some reluctance at the decision of their superior starting this attack. On ground, Hammer’s Fist Intelligence reports informed the Admirals that the NR had a solid defensive position with a new weapon and expected imminently, the arrival of reinforcements.

Elwood took some moment before answering.

- AD Elwood the Brave: War is demanding, Crsepe. And demand our courage, if we want to conquer.

Crsepe imperceptibly shook his head, trying that his skepticism wasn’t noticed by his superior. Usually he used to coincide with the views of the Admiral, but this time he could not avoid being dominated by bad omens. It was not considered a coward and, if necessary, he would battle even to death in order to defend the territory where the Emperor’s Hammer had brought peace for many years. Also perfectly he understood the need to stop or at least hinder, as soon as possible, the advance of the NR. But as a Logistics Officer Crsepe feared that while they did not have exact information about where the NR and they reinforcement would arrive, and the new weapon, they don’t have the best chances to succeed.

Its superior guessed his grief and tried to infuse hope.

- AD Elwood the Brave: Easy my friend, we will took them unaware and overcome before they receive help. Now, please, send advance. I want the VSD Aggressor in the center, and the Challenge keeping our right flank. Forward with determination and courage.

East of 339-H-KL-0301 sector – Actual time
Imperial Star Destroyer II Warrior – NR reported space.

- Seriously I’m telling you, Plif, this is a war that I could get used.

Plif looked stunned at a sleepy and smiling recently promoted Lieutenant, a teenager of seventeen who had just enlisted, against the will of their parents, in Kappa squadron.

- LT Sparky: Seriously, Plif, this is life. Okay, we got up early, it is true. But we have the whole day ahead to get busy and there is always work to do. Look, I've never been as strong and fit as now. And besides, we get paid. 100 Imperial Credits a week! Never in my life had so much money. Guys, I inform you formally that after this mission I will do everything possible so that this body enjoy a beautiful lady, or maybe a Twi'lek Slave you know, the ones that please you in exchange of your money. One with a huge ...

The soldier obscene gesture made the men laugh unleashed, especially, to the cheerful and recently promoted Colonel Plif.

Plif liked LT Sparky and his ability to lift the spirits of others. He was a great guy. And he could not deny that had a point: the work was acceptable, the Warrior had just succeed last year in a competition in the Aurora Sector, moreover, in that place they had an incredible view of the new Galaxy and had several days resting, with nothing to do but to do instruction and wait for any sign of appearance of the NR. And the best thing was that there wasn’t any sign of the Rebels for weeks since the ships divided each other in different sectors. Yes, this was a good life. What they didn’t know was that the ISD II Hammer was attacked already in other sector but they couldn’t be aware of that because not far from there, the secret weapon of the NR was just waiting, intercepting and preventing the Warrior to receive any kind of communication: An invisible Interdictor, invisible to any kind of radar, recently build up by High Traitors of Sienar Fleet Systems, developed exclusively for the New Rebels.

- CM Hawkins: Come, Sparky, stop fooling around and finish your bacon. We have to get going. If we do not, Frodo is able to order arrest at us.-He urged him.

The young Lieutenant smiled at him as he took a bite of meat. It was at that moment when hell was unleashed.

First, they heard various weird beats outside the ship approaching quickly in less than 5 seconds, and thereafter, a loud explosion. Suddenly, Hawkins and Plif thrown to the ground by the force of the blast. CM Hawkins fell into a terrible confusion, blood and debris all around, not trained yet in the ways of the Dark Side of the Force although he tried to avoid it, he fainted. His head hurt immensely when he opened his eyes, he was crushed and it took a few seconds to recover. It was some pretty distressing moment for him and Plif now. A big fuss was going on around him and seemed to happen in slow motion but he was not able to hear or understand anything. He just felt an intense Force wave emanating from the oldest officers and members of the Dark Brotherhood protecting themselves and the others with a force shield. Besides him a uniform and cloths with a body lay motionless and lifeless, blood, the body of Lieutenant Sparky, his young friend of seventeen, from Carrida and as cheerfully spoke of lying with a woman so recently.

Painstakingly, CM Hawkins tried to turn to lean on his arms and barely managed to get on all fours. Then he saw it, it was the full navy of NR Cruisers and one big ship he never saw before.

He was staring at the explosion point, the main bridge of the Warrior was gone, when a voice sounded in the Warrior’s speakers:

- You have lost ALL Shields; you are at 70% HULL!! TO YOUR SHIPS NOW NOW!!
- AD Elwood the Brave: Rumors of the Intelligence Division were true, computers can’t detect that ship, but we know it’s here. There are numerous ways to find a hiding ship, VA Pel, VA Crsepe, HA Dempsey order the Dark Brotherhood brothers to find and destroy that INT immediately!

Serious and determined voice of Admiral Elwood the Brave was raised amid the bustle of cross lasers and explosions, acting as a balm on the shocked Warrior officers who saw the ISD II Challenge and the VSD Aggressor followed by the ISD II Hammer. Decided, distressed and angry, Golbez grabbed his lightsaber and got into his T/A cockpit.

- COL Golbez Harvey: Those damn New Rebels would pay for what they have done to the SSD Avenger as well.

The Battle of 339-H-KL-0301 sector had begun.

Fiction by Vice Admiral Mark Schueler

Vice Admiral Mark Schueler wasn’t one to believe that the Rebels were a potential ally. In fact, he suspected that what he was about to do would prove to be enough to push the Emperor’s Hammer back into a war with the New Republic, and its local fleet, the Rebel Squadrons.

“Captain Jordick. How long before the convoy arrives?” the Logistics Officer asked.

“One minute, sir. Mu squadron’s TIE Defenders and Omicron’s Assault Gunboats are ready to disable it,” Jordick responded, not looking up from his status monitor. Jordick was a veteran of the Colossus; he had been its Captain as far back as when Schueler was still a TIE pilot. Of course, he was aware of the Logistics Officer’s dual assignment as both a member of the Hammer’s Admiralty, and as a Colonel in the ‘elite veteran’ Theta Squadron.

“The convoy’s here, sir!” a female Lieutenant called out.

Mark smiled as he watched the fighters of TIE Corps Wing VIII easily disable the convoy, whilst others held the convoy’s scant escort off. The Vice Admiral had carefully chosen the convoy with the lightest escort.

Assault Transports launched from the Colossus, and had soon docked with and taken possession of the Rebel freighters.

“There’s enough warheads in this convoy to keep the TIE Corps going for another three months, sir. We’ve also found the coordinates for the nearest Rebel munitions factory,” Jordick declared, having been informed of this by one of the officers in charge of the boarding operation.

“Excellent. That’s our next stop. Logistics is meant to be easy,” Schueler replied.

Today had been a good day. And it looked like tomorrow would be, too.

Fiction by Keth Aalith (bonus entry)

T/F Theta 3-1: ISD Warrior, Theta three-one, two, three, and for departing for partol out Hangar one-one.

ISD Warrior: Roger, Theta, you are clear for departure:

T/F Theta 3-1: Theta Squadron, we are cleared for departure. We will proceed in formation to nav buoy Alpha, then patrol duty.

T/F Theta 3-2: Sir, I noticed a damaged stabilizer during my pre-flight check. It shouldn't be a problem, it looks purely cosmetic, but could become an issue. I'd like to pre-arrange maintenance to meet me after patrol.

T/F Theta 3-1: Roger, Commander. Radio it in after nav epsilon. Alright, everyone, let's get this done.

T/F Theta 3-2: I've been reading reports of a resurgence of Project Blackwing. Seems that our bio-weapons division hasn't learned it's lesson, and may be doomed to repeat history yet again.

T/F Theta 3-4: I've heard the stories and even seen pictures of the last attempt at developing Blackwing. It was... not pretty. If they arer truly attempting to resurrect Blackwing, I hope to be stationed plenty far away when testing begins.

T/F Theta 3-3: If they would let *us* off the leash, we could put down the Rebles once and for all and they wouldn't have to resort to such ignoble tactics.

T/F Theta 3-1: Warrior, Theta reporting all clea at nav alpha, proceeding to nav Kappa.

ISD Warrior: Copy that Theta.

T/F Theta 3-3: Let's hope for an all clear at the points. I'd love a quiet patrol for a change.

T/F Theta 3-1: Alright, let's keep down tha chatter. Arrivina at nav Kappa, all clear.

ISD Warrior: We copy, Theta. Be advised, we are detecting incoming near nav gamma.

T/F Theta 3-1: Roger, Warrior. Theta squadron, de alert. It may be cargo outside of a shipping lane or leisure travel, but we will not be caught unaware.

T/F Theta 3-2: They're here! I have visual. Rebels!

T/F Theta 3-1: Warrior, incoming has arrived. Rebel scum. I have eyes on an Interceptor-class frigate. Holding short, let'ssee what they do.

T/F Theta 3-2: They're deploying fighters. I'm seeing Z-95's. This should be easy cleanup.

ISD Warrior: Theta, we are readying our alert fighters. Kappa was on standby. Sin is getting ready to launch gunboats as well. We'll need them to take down that frigate.

T/F Theta 3-4: I'm detecting X-Wing class fighter as well. This might be a challenge.

T/F Theta 3-1: Warrior, it looks like these Rebels came to fight. We may need more support.

ISD Warrior: Roger, Theta. We're readying Sigma. ETA is 3 minutes.

T/F Theta 3-1: Theta engaging.

T/F Theta 3-2: My scope is showing 4 headhunters and 4 X-Wings. Three-four and I will take out the Z-95s, One and Three, can you hold off the X-Wings until we can assist?

T/F Theta 3-1: Agreed. Engaging.

T/F Theta 3-2: That's a kill! One down, three to go. How are you holding up, One?

T/F Theta 3-1: These Rebels are well trained, but they're no match for Imperial training.

T/F Theta 3-4: Another headhunter down.

T/F Theta 3-3: I'm seeing four more X-Wing deploying from the frigate. Where's Kappa?

T/F Kappa 2-1: We see them. We have arrived on site and are engaging.

ISD Warrior: Theta, Sin is deploying now and ready to engage the frigate.

T/F Theta 3-1: Warrior, that might not be necessary. The frigate looks like it's running. All the Z-95s have been eliminated, we are now one-to-one with the X-Wing. They're not venturing too far from the frigate. I'm expecting them to break off and return to the frigate for the jump to hyperspace.

T/F Kappa 2-2: X-Wing fighter down. Assisting two-one.

T/F Theta 3-2: And another one down. I'm moving to assist three-one, but it looks like they are returning to the frigate.

T/F Theta 3-1: Warrior, the X-Wing are returning to the frigate. We are disengaging. It looks like they are have thought better of continuing the fight.

ISD Warrior: Roger, Theta. Once the frigate has departed the area, complete your control. Kappa and Sin, RTB.

AGB Mu 1-1: Sin returning to the Warrior. Requesting clearance for hangar bay two-nine.

ISD Warrior:Sin, you are clear for two-nine. Kappa, we are directing you to two-three.

T/F Kappa 2-1: Roger, Warrior. Kappa docking at two-three.

T/F Theta 3-1: Warrior, the frigate has hyperspaced out of the area. We are continuing our patrol.

T/F Theta 3-4: Well, that was brief. Not sure what they were expecting, but they got a shot in the mouth.

T/F Theta 3-3: I don't think they were expecting to encounter anyone out here. Seems like a small group to run up against a Star Destroyer.

T/F Theta 3-4: Whatever they case, they're rinning scared now.

T/F Theta 3-1: Warrior, delta is clear. Proceeding to Epsilon.

T/F Theta 3-2: Warrior, Theta three-two. I've had some damage to my TIE Fighter. It was exacerbated by this last skirmish and I'll need maintenance now.

T/F Theta 3-1: Warrior, Epsilon is clear. We are RTB.

ISD Warrior: We copy, Theta. Proceed to docking bay zero-five.