The Bayard of the Empire

[Telan Desaria]

Above the Sanctuary Moon of Endor
Flagship - Task Force 122
Location - Right Flank of Imperial Fleet


Those who bore the burden of command on any field in any war in any era knew to a command that it was a lonely vigil they stood. Many of the soldiers lead to their deaths in the heat of battle thought those who gave the orders of their demise lead comfortable lives without care or threat. The men whose consciences those deaths played were anything but but comofrtable for they knew that their was the worst fate to be imagined - they would die alone. To lead is to disassociate oneself from those he would order into Oblivion, and so to die among them is as solitary an End as if he were a light year from them.


The Admiral who stood upon the deck of the Imperial II-class Star Destroyer Relentless felt that burden all to often and just as often, he had tried to ignore it. Those men he called friends were fellow officers, men who could share the bond of the Emptiness they had all accepted with their promotions.


A titannic crash filled the air, accompanied by a horrific scream. The Admiral turned back and saw the remains of the CommScan station in the aft control corridor and the three men who had been stationed there, ash a component of their uniforms as much as the blue-green jumpsuits on their back. Only one of them had survived the terminal's explosion, and he writhed in an unholy agony. Nearby, a Lieutenant rushed forward with a hitherto concealed trauma bag until the FX-12 droid he summoned could arrive. The Admiral turned back to the scene unfolding outside his command.


With his eyes the tall man could see en entire fleet - thirty-two Star Destroyers - tearing into a Rebel armada come to challange the might of the Empire itself. Wave after wave of fighters was making a run into the Death Star, though the ships disappeared into the station's grey surface as his eyes lost focus.


He turned left to watch the Karimonn explode from inside, an overloaded reactor tearing the ship apart. The bow separated four hundred meters into the keel and launched itself forward as smoke and flame consumed the interior of the battleship. The Admiral winced as thought of Acting-Captain Mitchel Androtov, the young Chandrillan who had been barely containable at his promotion ceremony. The Admiral said a silent prayer in his native tongue to the fallen boy, almost envious at his loss. He will never feel the lonliness we have so readily come to accept, but instead will find peace among his Brothers in the Great Beyond.


" Admiral Desaria!"


The slender man turned, lithe muscles stretching as he averted his gaze from the pulsing fray. " Yes, Lieutenant Attis?"


" Sir - orders from the Executor. All ships are to intensify counter-battery fire - Rebel fighters are making strafing runs on the flagship."


Baron Telan Desaria nodded. He could tell the Rebels were getting desparate, running for against the largest ship deployed this day. " Guns - all port batteries to commence blanket fire into the strafing path of any approaching Rebel fighters. Reassign all port targets to dorsal and ventral guns. Move Delta Squadron towards the flagship: centre them on the command tower."


The Lieutenant, Acting Executive Officer aboard the Flagship of Task Force 122, saluted and went to work in the crew pit. Admiral Desaria returned a practiced glare to the battlefield beyond his triangular viewports.

[Telan Desaria]

The shields blossomed for a moment before the generators that pumped life into them were overwhelmed. For a brief second the shields held without the support of their whirring projectors but then fell without resistance. One or two missiles fired late into the volley passed through where the shields should have been and exchanged their life for death: two turrets on a starboard turbolaser battery and a tactical monitoring station were consumed by fire.


" Re-route auxilliary power to the reserve deflectors. Bring that screen back up!" shouted Captain Voltaire at his executive officer, himself busied with the task of fighting a battleship at war.


" When a shield does not present itself of your own design, you must make one. Something a friend taught me. Guns - priority target all starboard emplacements. Fire a salvo at that Blockade Runner approaching off the bow."


" Aye sir."


Captain Voltaire looked a bit puzzeled but dared not disobey. His resident flag officer, Admiral Desaria never turned his gaze from the unfolding action around his ship, though his mind was racing with a thousand possibilities. The 'Runner came across the dagger-like prow of the mighty Relentless, dumping a cannonade of light laser into operational dorsal shields and attempted to swing down over the flank. From the starboard batteries came a torrent of fire as fierce as it was brief that brought fire to the smaller ship, lightning dancing across her surface as a concentrated ion storm flared into existence.


" Activate starboard tractor beam. Bring that vessel square in the center of our downed shield-quadrant and expedite repairs. They wont' fire on their own ship."


Voltaire shook his head - - he was astonished as he glanced down at a nearby monitor, showing the invisible arm moving ever so laboriously the vessel to its desired location. He gave a thankful nod in the direction of his commanding officer and returned to his duties.


" Admiral! Executor reports fire-pattern increase urgent!"


" Guns - -make it so."


The order was given as were so many others - Desaria turned slightly his lithe frame to see the massive command vessel and the Rebel fighters clawing at her surface. He could not be sure, but he thought he saw a pair of Rebel A-wings attack the Executor's bridge deflector.


Indeed he had! An explosion lit the surface of the Super Star Destroyer's command tower. In disbelief, the Admiral refocused his eyes and then he saw a fighter making for the bridge of the mighty vessel. All color drained from his face.

[Telan Desaria]

The single ship spun wildy on its axis, what remained of the navigational computer obviously locked on its target. Leaping from the crevices of the superstructure, the A-wing continued on to its final destination. Bringing to completion a career bent on treachery and insurgence, Rebel Lieutenant Arvel Crynyd steered his dying ship into the bridge of the Super Star Destroyer Executor.


The shields already damaged when two small fighters had given a brief cannonade of torpedoes into her deflector domes, the entire command tower erupted in flame. Explosions tore through the hull, fountains of fire shooting from inside. Kilotonnes of durasteel liquefied in the horrendous heat then in a flash froze into perfect spheres in the cold vacuum of space. Bodies burnt beyond any hope of human recognition floated away, disfigured.


" Admiral - !"


Baron Desaria was speechless for a moment, many members of the bridge crew watching in horror the death throes of one of the four most powerful warships in the galaxy. The lethargy with which he acted was palpable, but act he did - he had to. His was the burden of command, and to have stood watching in the ranks of stunned and dazed officers would have been to contribute to the confusion he could feel building within them. The very foundation of each man had been shaken, and it was now his duty to call upon their professionalism.


" Captain Voltaire."


There came no reply. Desaria looked to his right to where he had expected the commander of his flagship: indeed there he stood at the mouth of the aft control corridor more white than the aiguelette of the General Staff on his aide's right shoulder.


" Captain!"


The older man snapped back to reality. " Sir?"


" We can assume until contacted that Admiral Piett has been killed?"


" Y...y...yes sir."


The Admiral swallowed, but did so without any movement that would show the first tinge of unease he had ever felt on the field. " Very well. As of now I am assuming command of the fleet. Note the time in the Ship's Log."


" Aye sir."


Desaria walked to the bow-edge of the crewpit and sat in his Admiral's Chair. " Communications - inform the Fleet that I have taken command. Fleet Ops - order the Maelstrum and Tyrannic to fall back into the Executor's former position and commence long-range counter battery fire against any ship attempting to exploit the breech in our lines."


A chorus of acknowledgements rung out over the sounds of battle. Professionalism was all they had now - the superior ships, weapons, and skills of the various crews mattered little for the next few moments, their nerve as soldiers had to be rebuilt. They now needed hope. Admiral Desaria vowed there to give it to them.

[Telan Desaria]

" Sir - the Tyrannic reports full port shield collapse. A Mon-Cal cruiser is manuevering into position to shell her."


Baron Desaria looked forward and watched a fast Corellian XG-90 Gunship swoop up from its run against his flagship's starboard bow. A blast of turbolaser fire lanced up from the forward battery, breaking the back of the transgressor, its shields already down after a run through the gaunlet of the port gundecks. What remained of the ship disintegrated as it drifted into the deflectors.


The display put a smile on the Admiral's face as he quickly moved aft and then down into the crew pit. A three dimensional holo of the unfolding engagement played out over a bluish projector table.


(must finished)