Deadfall

[Teleran Balades]

Strike-class Cruiser Pyre
Research Vessel, 13th Light Squadron
Area of Responsibility: Beneteau Sector
Commanding Officer: Commodore Teleran Balades


FLASSSSHHHHHHHHHH

Teleran Balades held an arm in front of his to keep the bright emerald blast of light from searing his eyes. Before the transparisteel viewport, a single beam of destruction raced out to impact a target satellite tens of thousands of kilometers distant. Even the massive bulk of the Pyre shuddered from the discharge.

…And in an instant, it was over. The bulkheads stopped rattling to be replaced by the gentle thrum of power generators and the glaring light faded into oblivion. As dozens of technicians scrambled about the cramped observation deck among various sensor stations, the commodore slowly dropped his arm to, starring into the empty space where smoldering remains of metal remained.

“Fifth trial complete. Feedback from observation drones indicates the beam did not dissipate upon contact with the target.” A blue-uniformed technician poured over the streams of data still being received. “I can’t even pinpoint the distance the beam traveled, but that had to be at least a third farther than the last trial.” He looked up with a triumphant grin. “A few bugs left, but that was pretty close to flawless.”

Cheers floated through the air as the techs congratulated each other. Hopeful that they might be able to get home early this time and be done with it before another assignment came up. Still…..

The voices died down and fervor faded as the long task of completely analyzing the trial began, but the enthusiasm still hung thick. Balades moved to the row of stations, leaning over tech operating one of the energy sensors. “It’s still bleeding off too much energy, that shot should have completely vaporized the target.”

“Yes, sir. Each of the capacitor clusters are producing the beams at maximum efficiency and transition to the main actuators is fine.” Fingers flew across the keys in a blur. “I can’t see how the beam could be disrupted along the path; maybe the magnetic fields on the galvanization coils are interfering with the particle flow.”

Teleran reached for the console. A holographic image of fifty meter long contraption sprung into the air. Half a dozen turbolaser cores, each one lacking the large focusing systems and kinetic dampers of a standard battery, intertwined with a complex ring of tibanna transfer tubes lined with coolant veins. A large disc lined with focusing mirrors connected to each laser in a half dome easily reminiscent of a Death Star’s superlaser.

“Doubtful, the spacing between the coils is great enough that the overlap is too weak.” Balades traced an arm along the holograms length has he walked, his fingers leaving flickering trails. “We’ve calibrated the cores before every test, it isn’t the lasers. Here….” He halted, gesturing towards the junction where the beams passed through angled lenses and on into the focusing dish. “….the only thing left is destructive interference at the focal point. Realign the mirrors and reprogram the timing protocols on the firing sequence just in case. Run a few simulations before moving to the next trial. If that doesn’t do it, we’ll have to program an AI to run the system.”

A sigh escaped through the tech’s lips, this meant another half a day at least. “As the Commodore orders.”

And with that the Commodore left, the blast doors hissing shut behind him. For a fleet officer he was a large man, barrel-chested, shaven head, and standing at a tower one hundred and eighty-eight centimeters. It seemed that Balades would be more at home wearing the flak armour of a guardsman than in a flag officer’s field gray. A cluster of campaign medals polished to a gently luster decorated his right breast. Yet standing out even more was the simple blue stripe bearing the imperial crest just above the man’s elbow; a banner worn by those who had survived Endor……a reminder of the Empire’s greatest.

Though their fleet had been decimated, the so called Rebel Alliance still gnawed at the Imperium’s heels. Even here among the Corellian Trade spine. But now the cards we’re in place, Balades had made sure of it; a lone science vessel well away from the nearest fleet, a priceless new weapon, an undefended high ranking Imperial officer Perfect prey for a hungry scavenger. A smile twitched on the Commodore’s face.

[Inyos Aamoran]

Interdictor Cruiser Constrictor
Commanding Officer: Lt. Commander Inyos Aamoran

Inyos stood, hands clamped tightly behind his back, legs square a shoulder-width apart, staring out at the distant star of the test system. He'd practiced a number of poses in front of the mirror in his quarters: this one seemed to best fit the air of moderate intimidation he wished to create. This latest assignment represented a major step up in his career, and he was determined to do everything right.

"Yes?" Inyos said suddenly, surprising the junior officer who'd been cautiously approaching behind him. Fortunately, Inyos had been blessed with keen sight and hearing. Attempts to sneak up on him were rarely successful.

"We just recieved a message from the Pyre, Commander," the Junior Comms Officer said, a little nervously. Inyos wasn't sure, but this could well have been his first assignment aboard such a large ship as well, although he was reacting to it in a somewhat less calm manner than Commander Aamoran.

"Indeed," Inyos replied, not moving. "In fact, we recieved word more than three minutes ago." He reached up, gently tapping an ear with a gloved finger. A barely audible sigh escaped him. "I believe the Commodore has ordered another test firing?"

The surprise was evident in the young Lieutenant's voice. "Yes sir," he answered, not quite sure what else to say. "How did you...?"

"Very well," Inyos interrupted, ignoring the Lieutenant's half-asked sentence. "Inform the Navigations Officer that we are to remain at station until further notice, and forward the message onto the rest of the group."

"Aye, sir," the Lieutenant said, a little quicker than was appropriate, clearly anxious to leave. Inyos' words forstalled his escape.

"Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir?" the Comms Officer asked, nervously.

"I realise that official protocol requires you to repeat messages of this nature to be repeated back for confirmation," he began, turning his head ever so slightly. "But in future, you may wish to moderate your volume." His head turned forwards again, and the gloved finger tapped his ear once more.

The Lieutenant's face flushed. "Y-yes, sir." Then he vanished.

Inyos' sigh was more audable this time. After years aboard the small crews found aboard Imperial patrol ships, he was used to having his officers tailored to his way of doing things. Unfortunately, the Constrictor had come already equipped with all hands, and the officer selection had not been his own. It longer take far longer to re-educate this crew, and overwrite the bad training they'd recieved in the past, and so far he'd not had the time.

Hopefully he wouldn't have the time either. Command of an Interdictor on an escort mission may have been a fairly simple assignment in the eyes of the more senior officers of the Fleet, but to him it was an opportunity: a doorway into grander things. If all went as he hoped it would, he wouldn't be gracing the bridge of this ship for much longer.

"Sensors," he called loudly, pleased that the accoustics of the Constrictor's bridge not only rivalled, but indeed surpassed those of his old command. His voice had taken on a menacing, rumbling air, amplified and echoed around the entire space. "Any sign of our Rebel friends?"

"Not yet, sir." The Sensor Officer paused, and reported the same again, this time louder, not sure if the Commander had heard initially. He had.

"Very well," Inyos replied, with a nod. His lips curled into a smile. "Please send someone to inform me when they do."

With that, he turned, peeling the gloves from his hands, and half-marching down the gangway towards the private space afforded to the Commanding Officer. There he would sit, would wait, and would make his plans to destroy the Rebels that dared disturb Commodore Balades and his new toy.

[Yumina Sokai]

Quasar-Fire Corusca Flame
7^th Patrol group(attached to the 21^st Strike Group, Captain Sokai)
Commanding Officer: Commander Roshan
<o></o>
Many things changed in the aftermath of Endor. The rebel fleet crippled, the handful of ship left scattered across the galaxy from a chaotic retreat, an entire Imperial armada lay in tatters, the ruined Death Star turning the space above the forest moon into a twisted labyrinth of steel and iron, and tens of thousands of corpse floating among the hulks. With the Emperor’s death, the <st1><st1:city w:st="on">Alliance</st1:city></st1> had scored a tremendous victory, but at a terrible cost, leaderless and reduced to unorganized guerillas.
<o></o>
And despite the heavy blow, the Empire still continued to function…recovering.
<o></o>
For the <st1:city w:st="on"><st1></st1></st1:city>Alliance, however, there had yet to by a mass regrouping since the disaster. But the men and women of the 21^st Strike Group fought tooth and nail with what they had under the leadership of Captain Yumina Sokai. At the death of her commanding officer, Sokai had her wounded ship initiate a blind-jump. For months the rogue ship jumped from system to system slowly gathering together the scattered survivors of her flight group.
<o></o>
Without a link to alliance command, Captain Sokai reorganized the squadron and began launching raids along primary Imperial trade routes without knowing whether there still was a rebellion. Timid at first, the raids slowly escalated into daring ambushes on Imperial warships and supply convoys. It was in the remains of one of these courier ships that Yumina’s soldiers were able to slice broadcast codes for Imperial military channels.
<o></o>
Frustrated Imperials could never track down the aggravating splinter fleets, not once suspecting that their own transmissions were being used to track their movements. And for two months “Sokai’s Phantoms” launched raid after raid on a still roiling Imperium.
<o></o>
Hope and determination rose as other rebel cells were reacquainted. Information of DirectorBelargic’s operations and the tales of <st1:city w:st="on">Alliance</st1:city> agents gaining footholds in the heart of<st1><st1> Imperial</st1><st1> Center</st1></st1> boosted moral to new levels……Still, there was no word of Admiral El’Johnson’s fleet. And still the 21^st remained isolated, fighting on their own in the void<o></o>
<o></o>
And now with stolen communications from Imperial networks, Sokai learns of the Empire’s new weapon at the border of her hunting grounds, with a visiting Commodore from the Department of Research and Development no less. And despite her suspicious mind, the prize is too valuable to lose. The Commodore’s visit could only last so long before his duties carried him beyond the rebellion’s reach.<o></o>
<o></o>
Too far away to join the fight herself, Yumina sends the closest combat group to Yag’dhul.<o></o>
<o></o>
A trio of small ships hurtle through the streaking starlines of hyperspace, seconds away from their destination. At the bridge of the Corusca Flame, Commander Roshan’s flippered hands grip tightly to the observation rail. The Mon Calamari’s lip tentacles quiver in anticipation of the catch.<o></o>
<o></o>
In a flash of light the bulk cruiser tears it’s way free of hyperspace with a pair of gunships in tow. And there before them lies their prey, a pristine white dagger among the starfield. Murmurs of surprise filter through Roshan’s ears, such a large warship acting as a research vessel was unexpected.<o></o>
<o></o>
“Lieutenant Handel, bring us to red alert. Operations! Bring the reactor to eighty percent. Starfighters prepare for launch.” Roshan leans forward as the bridge springs into action. “Comms, keep monitoring the transmissions. I want an escape route if that imp squadron out-system so much as blinks in our direction.
<o></o>
But “Sokai’s Phantoms” were used to changes and the commander would waste no time agonizing over uncontrollable circumstance. Roshan activates the intership comms with a flick of a flipper.
<o></o>
“Imperial vessel, lower your shields and disable your reactor. Surrender without a fight an you will be unharmed.”<o></o>

[Inyos Aamoran]

"Commander!" a voice panted, the sound of uniform boots slapping against deck plates coming to an abrupt stop as the Junior Comms Officer - the over-enthusiastic Ensign from before, Inyos noted - burst through the door into the Commander's 'Ready Room'.

"Yes, Ensign?" Inyos replied with a frustrated sigh, eyes not lifting from the datapad clutched in a one-handed grip, balanced against his crossed knees to allow his free hand to grip a mug of something strong, and laiden with caffeine. His tone was tense, as if trying to tease some decorum out of the young officer.

"Sir," the Ensign said, still panting, but getting the message and coming to a vague approximation of attention. "We've just detected three Rebel ships emerging from Hyperspace. They're moving to intercept the Pyre."

The muscles in Inyos' jaw went taught. With a swift yet careful and controlled gesture, the mug in his hand found itself on his desk, and the datapad in his hands moved into position between two gripping hands, held behind his back. He nodded a simple message to the Ensign. Lead the way.

Striding confidently onto the bridge, Inyos began calmly issuing orders, his voice echoing menacingly around the accoustically perfect space. "Officer of the Watch," he called, not bothering to look and see whether the relevant individual was responding. "Tactical Alert. Helm: prepare to execute Hyperspace jump Beta-Nova-Six, on my mark. Comms: -" There was a pause, Inyos turning his head slightly to direct his attention at the JCO standing behind him. "Signal our escorts, and relay those instructions," he said, voice quieter than before. "And request that they deploy fighters as soon as they emerge from hyperspace."

"Yes, sir!" the Ensign replied with every ounce of enthusiasm in his body, prompting a slight - but only slight - smile from the Commander. A moment later, it was gone.

"Tactical," he addressed, "Ready our alert fighters. And I want those Gravity Well Generators active the moment we revert to realspace."

"Aye, aye, Captain," a voice echoed from below him.

Inyos paused for a moment, allowing himself a small smile at the address, and allowing his eyes to take in the view below him. Officers and Crewmen swarmed around the pit below him as he stood, raised above them all. Not quite as much as he would have been on a Star Destroyer, mind, but it was enough. He let the smile linger for another fraction of a second, before cutting it off with a thought. "Aye, aye, Captain," he muttered to himself, face returning to it's usual all-business expression.

Inyos took a breath, and issued his next order.

"Helm: execute jump."

What happened next was nothing short of miraculous. Stars that had hung off in the distance stretched, surrounding the ship in a brilliant white light that collapsed over them, sweeping them away into a swirling blueness as the ship tore across Hyperspace, the universe racing past around them, hidden beneath something that only science could explain.

The Hyperspace jump took exactly 3.14 seconds. Inyos knew this, because it had been integral to their plan. Though the Constrictor was positioned on the most logical vector of approach for the Rebel ships, Inyos knew that 'logical' was often lacking in Alliance tactics. Statistics produced by Imperial Fleet Command quoted the minimum reaction time for a Starship to jump to Hyperspace after detecting the movement of an enemy vessel, based on organic factors, and the response time of sensor systems and similar, to be 11.3 seconds. In readiness drills performed by the crew of the Constrictor, it would take them 4.9 seconds to activate the Gravity Well Generators upon reversion to realspace, assuming they'd been prepared and standing by, as they had been. That left them with 3.26 seconds - or there abouts - of leeway.

The Hyperspace jump took exactly 3.14 seconds. Inyos knew this, but even so, it seemed like an age - the longest 3 seconds of his life - before the tunnel around them collapsed, depositing the ship back into the realms of conventional physics once again.

"Report," Inyos barked, unable to keep a slight tense edge from his voice. "Tell me what's going on out there."

[Teleran Balades]

“Commodore on the bridge.”

Balades stepped into an atmosphere just screaming confusion, scientists and officers ran back and forth like rats trying to figure out what to do. Most froze in their spots at the call to attention.

Before the Commodore had time to speak, a young Officer of the Watch rushed forward. It was obvious the man had little combat experience and at a complete loss of what to do. A handful of the frantic crew dutifully remained at their stations.

“Sir, they dropped out hyperspace in directly in our exit vector. We’re already calculating a new hyperspace jump and I’ve ordered the helm to put at much distance betw…….”

Teleran looked from the young man to the three dimensional tactical display hovering in the air. At the center lay the green form of the Pyre turning to run from the trio of rebel ships. At least one thing’s been done right “Belay that order. Helm rotate us on a heading of delta-seven-seven mark four. All hands to battle stations.”

“What?” A flabbergasted officer stared at Balades as the Commodore brushed past. With wide eyes he moved to keep up. “Commodore, this is research ship. We only have a skeleton crew, most without combat training. This ship can’t be risked, a hostile force was never figure into our mission plan.”

“Everything is going to plan, Lieutenant.” Everything grew silent as the bridge focused their attention on Balades. Confused eyes met the calm determination in his own. Behind the Commodore the clang of booted feet resonated through the door. Nearly two dozen naval personnel wearing the crest of Balades’s own 13th Light Squadron, walked down to the crew stations. “This ship is a strike-cruiser of the Imperial Navy…”

“Wha….more objects exiting hyperspace. Transponders mark them as allies.” The stammering technician operating sensors was quickly directed away from his seat.

Holographic representations of Commander Aamoran’s vessels flickered into existence.

Teleran turned to face the lieutenant; realization just now coming to the young officer’s face. “…and the Empire does not bow down before terrorists. You and your crew are relieved of duty until this battle is over.” This whole thing had been a trap for the rebels from the start.

“Of..of course. As the Commodore orders.”

By the time fleet marines had escorted the crewmen off the deck and order finally set in, Teleran’s officers already had the Pyre turning the ship perpendicular to the Rebel ships.

Balades himself calming sat down in the command chair before the tactical display. “Weapons: Arm the long-rang batteries to fire on my mark, I want a three tiered volley on the cruiser. Captain Jessim, starfighter command is yours, launch when ready.”

A chorus of ‘aye-ayes’ resonated along the bridge, everything running like clockwork. The Commodore had trained them well.

And in an instant alarm klaxons began blaring. “Multiple missle locks detected from the gunships. Shall I angle shields, Commodore.” And apparently the rebel mutts had a decent bit of sense themselves.

“Not yet, ensign…..not yet.” Balades’s eyes narrowed as the inevitable hell drew nearer.

[Inyos Aamoran]

"Gravity Well Generators are online," an officer reported: Inyos didn't care who. It was good news, and thus he didn't need to yell at anyone in particular. That always made things easier. "And the Pyre is moving into a defensible position."

"Pyre Tactical reports that Rebel gunships are now airborne," Inyos' new pet Comm Officer reported.

"Our fighters are already deployed," another voice interrupted, preempting the Commander's next question. "They are moving to intercept."

"Very good," Inyos replied, his face blank and expressionless. His head turned, focussing on the Communications console. "Inform Pyre Tactical that the Constrictor sends one-hundred twenty ion engines and associated componants, with our compliments." He paused, the confused look on the Officers' faces prompting a sigh, and a clarification of his message. "Command of our fighters is theirs."

"Aye, sir!" the Comm Officer replied, over-enthusiasm attempting to cover for his sheepish lack of understanding as he swung back to face his console.

Inyos shook his head slowly, and spun on his heel, swiftly walking the few paces that separated him from the holotable displaying the current status of the battle. His eyes absorbed it all: the Rebels had begun moving in to chase the Pyre as it 'retreated', drawing out their lines and leaving them unprepared for its unexpected retalliation. That had pulled the Rebels in tight to where Aamoran's formation had exited Hyperspace, making his job somewhat easier.

His eyes flicked to a Technician hovvering close to the controls of the holo-table. "Display the gravity field we are generating," he instructed. A few moments later, a red haze spread out from around the miniature green triangle that represented the Constrictor, spreading out to envelope most of the display. "This is where we need to keep them," he said out loud, gesturing towards the gravity field. "Between us and the planet, there are only two viable directions for escape. One takes them through the Pyre and our Assault Frigates; the other lies directly behind them." He gestured towards the relevant points for emphasis, where the two circular gravity fields began to curve away from each other.

"Any orders to relay?" the pet Comm Officer prompted, needlessly.

Inyos silenced him with a look, then began gesturing towards the holographic ships before him. "Have our Assault Frigates move in either side of the Pyre" he instructed, waving with a hand. "And order the helm to move us into around to the Rebels' starboard flank."

One of the ship's Tactical Officers frowned slightly at the instructions. "Sir?"

Inyos looked up, the reprimand on the tip of his tongue stayed through respect from one tactician to another. "If we swing around to starboard," he explained, "We can begin to close our gravity field with that of the planet, effectively cutting off their easiest escape route. That leaves them with only one easy means of escape: through the remainder of our forces." Inyos smiled, the curl of his lip more sinister than reassuring, prompting a slight shudder from the officer it targetted. "If we align most of our guns perpendicular to those of the Pyre and the Frigates..."

"...we catch them in a crossfire," one of the Tactical Officers finished, smiling himself in approval at the plan.

"Indeed," was Inyos' only reply. He nodded to the Officer of the Watch, who jogged back out onto the bridge, ready to relay those orders. Inyos remained, watching the battle unfold, trusting his crew to carry out his instructions.

His eyes settled on the Pyre, and its strangely silent guns. What was Commodore Balades waiting for?

[Yumina Sokai]

Commander Roshan was used to surprises, all rebels were, the alliance lived by cloak and dagger attacks. But it was rare for Imperials to put so effort into retaliatory ambushes; it just wasn’t the Navy’s style.
<o></o>
The Mon Calamari’s barbels twitched as his vessel was now caught in an Interdictor’s gravity field and facing an enemy force that well overpowered his meager group. It shouldn’t even have been possible, this Imp taskforce was never hinted at in the intercept transmission. And there was nothing Sokai’s Phantoms had done to compromise themselves.
<o></o>
The answer escaped him in a whisper. “They know we’re listening.” Everything now change, Roshan had to make it to Captain Sokai and inform her that they couldn’t rely on Imperial satellites anymore. But the original objective still remain.
<o></o>
“Comms, send the signal to bravo and charlie groups.” Capturing the ship was out of question now and there would be no chance of the Imperials surrendering, not that there was much chance in the first place. But he could still destroy it and the Commodore.
<o></o>
“Order the Might and the Rage to come about to port and put some missiles into Pyre’s flank.”
<o></o>
Corellian gunships were often underestimated on the battlefield, the tiny ships barely even made the list as a capitol ship. But each one carried a quartet of assault concussion warhead launchers. A concentrated barrage from a group of gunships could knock down the shields and even cripple a large vessels.
<o></o>
Moving the gunships aside would temporarily leave the Flame without an escort, but if the Roshan was plan worked, it wouldn’t matter. Within moments the heavy warheads were racing out towards the enemy. And as clouds of Imperial starfighters formed up, the capitol ships held their fire.
<o></o>
“Keeps us outside their turbolaser range and moniter her shields.” Closer and closer the, missiles drew, the heavy projectiles relying purely on speed and mass to overcome the cloud of defensive fire from the TIEs. Roshan looked to the sensors officer and was met with a shaking head. He clenched his fists, hoping for the tell tale shimmer of fluctuating shields. “C’mon, flinch dammit.” He never got his wish.
<o></o>
Only handful of the original warheads made it through, but it was still a scene to behold. Bright points of light flashed into existence like miniature supernovas, sending a cloud and explosive force and burning shrapnel into the strike cruiser’s shields. Roshan could imagine the distant screech of generators as the energy fields struggled to hold up.
<o></o>
In the flare of destruction, space rippled behind the Pyre and escorting frigates. Another Corellian gunship and a corvette swiftly made the battlefield adjustment and already began the advance before the escorts could maneuver to firing positions, cutting low along the strike cruisers bulk and pouring fire into her pristine ventral shields.
<o></o>
“Launch all fighters and arm laser cannons, we’re going to do this the hard way.” It didn’t matter now if the missiles brought down her shields, they’d be up again shortly, the missiles could only overload small sections at once. And since the enemy didn’t angle her defenses to soak up all the damage, bravo group would be fighting a full defended flank instead of vulnerable armor.
<o></o>
“Sir, charlie group will be pulled out of hyperspace by the Interdiction field. They’ll be right on top of her.”
<o></o>
Roshan carefully studied the tac-screen with bulbous eyes. “Have them split, one above and one below, stay in as close as possible.” Interdictors were built in similar fashion to star destroyers and suffered the same weakness of turbolaser placement. At range they were extremely deadly, but up close they could only bring a limited amount of their guns to bear and lost the battery fire advantage.
<o></o>
And just as Commander Roshan moved to put everything in motion, the Pyre struck, showcasing the skill of a veteran Imperial gunnery crew.
<o></o>
The first shots struck with unearthly precision, scoring deep gashes in hull surrounding the bulk cruiser’s hangar areas in the brief moment the shields dropped to allow fighters to escape.
<o></o>
The second and third tier of shots struck seconds later, the rebel ship’s shields nearly turned opaque from the focused strikes. Roshan gripped the command rail tightly as his ship rocked around him from the overload volley.

[Teleran Balades]

Commodore Balades calmly sat still as his ship shuddered from the warhead impacts. Following their commander’s fearless example, the bridge crew strapped into their stations without protest. A pocket of order in the chaos of battle.

At his bidding a small hologram of the Pyre shimmered to life at the commodore’s side. Diagnostic and damage report data scrolled along the three dimensional diagram; ever vital system was green. Only a translucent shell on the strike cruiser’s starboard flank flashed a dangerous red.

“Shields holding at 17 percent, Sir. With the speed the explosions are dissipating they should be back to full in short order.”

A smile rose to Teleran’s face, these rebel fools always thought the same. Bait the Imperials, show them something to draw their attention, and once you have their attention, blindside them hard and fast. And it always, always relied on hiding the true strength of their forces.

“Commodore, hyperspace ruptures detected within our firing arc!” It was why this came as no surprise. The scum were playing their roles like good little puppets. “Detecting a second rupture in Constrictor’s flight path.”

Balades rose to his feet, now that that the cloak and dagger bantha-dren was at an end, he could do what he did best. He stepped down from the command platform next the tactical hologram. A pair of rebel vessels skimmed beneath the strike cruiser, but the Commodore and his crew never felt the violent blasts hitting the Pyre from the newcomers.

“Weapons, hit the Quasar as soon as her shields fluctuate to let their fighters out. Concentrate battery fire on the first group, the frigates can handle our little interlopers.”

He glanced up at the floating display recognizing the positions of Aamoran’s vessels. Keeping his flagship solitary was an unorthodox tactic, usually a deadly mistake, but maybe there was something here. “Show me a system display and include any mass shadows.”

As Pyre’s guns started their thundering volleys and the tactical display zoomed out, Commander Aamoran’s plan slowly became evident. It could work…it could work extremely well, channeling the rebels into an overlapping killing zone. But that was with only one group.

Still it could work, but the Interdictor would have to be free to maneuver without being molested by the smaller ships. “Thank the Commander for the starfighter components, but tell him we ordered too many.”

[Inyos Aamoran]

Imperial TIE Interceptor "Ranger Three"
Ranger Squadron, Constrictor

The fighter hurtled through space, screaming across the distance that separated the Constrictor and the Pyre. Visuals flashed on the fighter's heads-up display, the pilot taking the information in calmly, breathing steadily inside the confines of his obsidian black helmet. His hands shifted ever so slightly on the controls, gloved fingers slipping into their familiar positions on the fighter's yoke. Everything about the pilot dripped with confidence drawn from the experience he posessed. After all, becoming a veteran TIE pilot was no small feat, let alone one skilled enough to be selected for a TIE Interceptor.

The Rebels on the other hand: they cowered behind their shields and torpedoes, allowing their droids to do most of the flying for them. There was no skill or elegance in the way they flew: their craft were harsh, angular, and lacking the perfectly-designed curves of the TIE series. One couldn't surpass the perfect balance of engineering and pilot skill that made up the Imperial Fighter Corps: a balance in which only the best survived.

Masked from the outside world, the pilot smiled as a series of red icons appeared on his computer display, the sensor package in his fighter identifying them as a mix of various Rebel-associated craft. Pleanty of targets to hit. That made his job even easier.

A moment later, an X-Wing hurtled through the position where Ranger Three had been, the shards and vapour glancing off its shields the only indication that anything had been there before.

* * *

Inyos let out a low growl as another graphic, representing one of their TIE Fighters was extinguished. Ranger Squadron from the Constrictor, and Warrior Squadron from one of their Nebulan-B escorts had been diverted to intercept the leading edge of the Rebel fighter screen, while the remaining 36 TIEs spread themselves between the trailing edge, and the larger Rebel ships.

Another wince, as another TIE went out, this time one of the trailing 36, caught by a lucky shot from the Quasar Fire's guns. Inyos' hand formed a fist that tightened further, nails digging through the leather at his fingertips as his gloves stretched and strained. The graphic representation of the Constrictor moved slowly. Too slowly. Its guns weren't coming to bear fast enough, half of them prevented from firing because of friendly targets positioned in their way.

Then Inyos frowned, watching the irratic flight of several Rebel fighters, bearing down on his ship. His eyes widened, as sensors warned of a missile lock. "Shoot down those fighters!" he yelled.

* * *

Rebel B-Wing Fighter "Thundercat One"
Thundercat Squadron, Corusca Flame

The Captain smiled as his droid whistled a positive weapons lock. His flight, four strong, had made it past most of the enemy fighter cover, and were already bearing down on the Interdictor Cruiser. Their task was simple: disable the grav generators. A sensible tactic, to be sure, and a predictable one. But with most of the Imperial fighters committed to attack, little had been left to screen the ship itself from such an attack.

Clicking the comm, the Captain gave the order, and all at once the four B-Wings began their coordinated barrage, unleashing a concentrated burst of Ion Cannon fire directly into the Interdictors shields. It didn't make much of an impact to begin with, but soon the streaks of blue were accented by crimson highlights as blaster cannons joined the assault. Pulses leapt from the other fighters as, following their plan, Thundercats Three and Four unleashed their first pairs of Proton Torpedoes.

The Captain didn't wait to see if their attack would work. He hammered the throttle forward, diving in towards the first of the Constrictor's gravity well generators, unleashing Proton Torpedoes of his own. Two was hot on his tail, and then was gone, the flash of his explosion reflecting off the cockpit canopy. His radar screamed at the two TIE Interceptors trailing him, but this had to succeed. There were people on those ships who needed saving...

In a burning flash of light, shields stripped away, and hull twisted, partially boiled into space, Thundercat One slammed through the momentarily distrupted shields of the Constrictor and exploded against her hull. A fraction of a second after the impact, her Proton Torpedo cache detonated, the secondary explosion enough to tear through the armoured hull of the forward-port gravity generator.

And then, the Rebel fighter Captain was no more.

* * *

Inyos' fist slammed into the console in rage, as the red field depicted on the holoprojection fluxuated, their gravity field disrupted by the loss of a generator. "Status," he snapped, not really needing to ask.

"Generator One is off-line," the reply came, from someone Inyos didn't think worthy of entering his vision. "However, power output has been increased from the remaining three generators. The field is holding, at 84% of optimum strength."

A small mercy; the gravity field had merely shrunk slightly, not collapsed entirely. The Rebels were still trapped, although their escape route had widened, ever so slightly.

Inyos turned, eyes falling on the Officer of the Watch. "Increase power to engines," he ordered. "I don't care what systems you have to scavenge from: anything but shields, weapons and generators are expendible at this point." He spun back, settling his attention on the tactical display once more, a mental calculation confirming what he suspected. "Have us continue on our original course, but the second we are in position, -" He paused, fixing the Lieutenant with a sincere look. "Divert every ounce of power we can spare to shields and weapons. Leave minimal engine power only. If this works, we aren't going to need to move anywhere."

After a slight hesitation, the Officer of the Watch nodded. "Aye, sir," he replied, spinning smartly on his heel, and disappearing out into the bridge.

Inyos' eyes lingered on the holoprojection, glaring at the Corusca Flame. A slight smile crept onto his face. Don't think you can kill me that easily.

Suddenly, the projection fluxuated, two new flashes of red appearing on the screen. Inyos cursed under his breath, as two new Rebel ships appeared on the display, positioned perfectly not only to take advantage of the weak points in the Constrictor's weapons array, but also to strike and destroy the remaining grav generators.

Swinging around, Inyos ignored the usual strict chain of communication he usually clung to. His voice rose, echoing through the hatchway in the wake of the Officer of the Watch, anger creeping into his voice, emphasising his urgency. "Roll axis rotation!" he shouted. "Negative 90 degrees - bring our weapons to bear!"

[Yumina Sokai]

Rebel X-wing Fighter “Caltrops Five”
Caltrops Squadron, Corusca Flame
<o></o>
The lieutenant’s heart sank amidst the bittersweet victory; Thundercat One had been an excellent pilot and a better friend. She gritted her teeth, and punched her fighter to full throttle and slammed her foot down on the rudder. A sharp jerk of the stick brought the ship cart wheeling at an angle that would have torn the ship apart in atmosphere.
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Shoving the confused yell of her wingmate in the back of her mind and ignoring the shrill screaming coming from her R2 unit, she wheeled the X-wing beneath the Interceptors that had been after the Thundercats. A low curse whispered from the lieutenants lips and she squeezed down on the trigger. A flurry of crimson tore through the unshielded Interceptors leaving only a trail of debris.
<o></o>
“What the hell are you doing, Five. Never leave your Wingman.” With Thundercat One avenged the rage faded and the lieutenant realized how vulnerable she’d left her friends. “Sorry, Six, I jus….”
<o></o>
“Quit the chatter you two, group two and three are here so we’re on babysitting duty.” A series of clicks answered as the lieutenant skimmed along the surface of a Corellian gunship. A beep from the R2 brought her attention to the radar. “Another group of TIEs just left the [I]Pyre, lead.”
<o></o>
“Alright, Caltrops form up and take ‘em out before they can hit the bombers.” Indeed a fresh squadron of Interceptors was streaking from the strike cruiser. Caltrops Five swung in line with her flight and brought up her targeting grid. Even as fighters danced a ballet of death around speeder sized turbolaser blasts, the lieutenant couldn’t help but notice the orange painted stripes on the Interceptor’s solar panels.
<o></o>
* * *
<o></o>
Teleran clasped his hands together as he walked towards the observation port. The time for waiting was up, with all the cards on the table and the deck dry, there’d be no more surprises from the rebels. Outside the form of a corvette cut a dangerously close pass over the Pyre’s hull.
<o></o>
His gaze hardened as he stood close to the transparisteel armor, only the stars and fury of the space battle before him. Seven against four. Balades’s eyes hardened, hardly fair odds, time to cull the horde.
<o></o>
“Helm, roll port at fifteen degrees per second and pull us in a slow arc around to the Quasar’s broadside.” His eyes locked on the harassing so called blockade runner as the stars began to spin. The rebel ship’s motion and Pyre’s spin put the corvette above the port gun banks.
<o></o>
Balades crossed his arms over his chest with a smile. The rebels had no time to react and the ships were so close the gunners didn’t even have to aim. Dozens of emerald bolts poured terrajoules of energy into the enemy vessel. The resulting display of light burned Teleran’s eyes before the photosensitive viewport could compensate.
<o></o>
“Gloria Imperium”
<o></o>
* * *
<o></o>
Imperial TIE Interceptor “Hellion One”, Captain Jessim
Hellion Squadron, Pyre
<o></o>
Jessim’s squadron weaved and whirled its way through the thick of the dog fight, snapping off potshots while avoiding disorganized return fire. The Hellions were a unique group, called from the Commodore’s flagship. Best of the best with the equipment to match.
<o></o>
The captain ignored the screams of and chaos of battle that filtered through the comms. Several of the original TIE squadrons were really hurting, but his face was unreadable behind the black mask. TIE pilots died, it was their purpose, the only way to weed the elite from the cattle.
<o></o>
“One, we’ve picked up a group of X-wings.” Before the Hellions, an oncoming group of rebel starfighters stood between them and the bombers. The Interceptors just kept plowing forward. Head to head between TIEs and X-wings would normally be considered suicide, but the Hellions were more than prepared.
<o></o>
“Alpha flight is the spearhead, beta and ceti are the shaft. Break by pairs and engage at will on my mark” Green laser fire began to spit at the rebels from long range. At that range they’d do little damage, but that wasn’t the purpose. Explosions from laser fire striking shields blinded both the eyes and sensors.
<o></o>
The rebels began panicking as they soon found they couldn’t see a thing and their computers couldn’t get a lock with the interference.
<o></o>
The Hellions fell on them. “Mark.”
<o></o>
<o></o>
* * *
<o></o>
Roshan clenched his fists nervously as the fight seemed to be drawing to an equal footing. In less than a minute Caltrops squadron had been cut in half by a group of TIEs that would put the Imperial 181^st to shame. Serendipity was left spewing flame from several rents along her hull as the strike cruiser’s gun banks rotated out of sight, slowly bringing fresh shields and guns to bear for another volley.
<o></o>
The Mon Cal rose to a shout. The rebels still had an advantage, but he’d have to fight to keep it. “Shunt reserve energy into guns.” His mind raced as the Interdictor grew bigger on the screen. His hands tightened on the rails.
<o></o>
“Sensors, find me where the shields are weakest on the cruiser.” Hundreds of data streams scrolled by on the tactical screen as his officers poked and prodded for a weak point. If they could get the Interdictor out of the way, he’d have a lot more maneuvering leeway and escape options.
<o></o>
Corusca’s and her escorts finally came into range, the Quasar put everything into pouring energy into the Interdictor’s shields while the smaller craft moved to distract the Nebulans.
<o></o>
“There, starboard side slightly dorsal to where the Thundercat’s hit the generator. Shields are fluctuating abnormally, focused fire could break through. A glimmer of a smile came to Roshan’s face. “Guns concentrate on that point, transmit targeting data to our bombers.” He balled his flippered fingers into a partial fist and slammed the small railing.
<o></o>
“One way or another we’re going to kill that thing.”