VPG - Sideshow to a War

[Telan Desaria]

“ This seems just a bit off.”


“ It does indeed, Commander.”


Admiral Serena Laran stood on the bridge of her new flagship and let her cold glare penetrate the rectangular viewports before her. Arrayed ahead of the Grand Raider Division was the Yannik system containing the unit’s target: Dubrillion. That they had arrived four hours ahead of schedule was cause for no concern as it was merely a testament to the efficiency of the engineering crews manning reactors and drive engines.


Bemusing to those who knew their destination well was the lack of activity around the colonial hotspot. Two hundred years had passed since its settlement in the waning days of the Old Republic. Within a quarter-century the population of Dubrillion had risen to over a million as rich mineral deposits were found on almost every moon, planetoid, and asteroid for ten systems in any direction. After the perfection of the Republic and the formation of the Empire, Dubrillion continued to prosper as the center of all activity in a barren region of space.


“ CommScan, anything?”


“ Nothing, sir. No planetary signatures, no ship to ship, no beacons. If there is anything going on in subspace, its so coded our instruments are not picking it up.”


Laran took a few steps closer to the transparisteel wall separating her and the rest of the cruiser’s bridge from space itself. Though she herself had never before set foot in on Dubrillion, she knew well by reputation. Any novice to the stars would have expected traffic of some time from the de facto colonial capital of the Ielloraan Sector.


Commander Cermann, captain of the Abolisher II-class Heavy Cruiser Germania, moved next to the Admiral. “ Madame, sensors have detected no activity. I’ve ordered the scanning sphere pushed out to five-hundred, but I doubt we will find anything.”


“ This is strange. Too strange. All stop.”


“ Aye Ma’am.” Cermann agreed wholeheartedly, having grown up the son of two Dantooine farmers. As a boy, he had spent many a week with his parents selling and bartering in one of its eight major cities. “ Engines, reduce speed to zero, activate thrusters to halt forward momentum. Fleet, relay like orders to all other ships.”


“ Captain, raise shields and stand to full crews to battlestations.”

[Telan Desaria]

“ Send orders to the First Detachment. Proceed with all caution into planetary orbit. I want a complete sweep performed. If any life remains on the surface or any ships are detected, contact me immediately. Maintain maximum alert status.”


Master Chief Petty Officer Rabiere, son of a wealthy caf merchant, nodded from his console. Admiral Laran turned to leave the bridge but was stopped by her newfound flag captain. As the competent but physically diminutive man approached, she genuinely missed the sardonic presence of Captain Aleraat.


“ Madam Admiral, this was not supposed to be like this, was it? This planet was supposed to be thriving.”


Laran did not answer: she did not have to. She did meet his concerned gaze with a stern glimmer. Together her eyelids fell down and rose again, revealing the molten orbs burning inside. That small acknowledgement as she departed for her aft office sent a very disturbing shill down Commander Cermann’s spine.

[Telan Desaria]

The amalgamation of the battle group under Grand Admiral Desaria had taken two Star Destroyers from the Grand Raider Division, and thus its only compliment of ground troops or serious fighter support. To compensate, the First Detachment was sent three Valor-class Cruisers. Though new and few in number, the Valors boasted strong engines and heavy weaponry – in addition to two embarked fighter squadrons per vessel.


While they had attained two of the three principles of warcraft design – speed and weaponry – the third – protection – was sacrificed in the form of armor, leaving a very thin skin between bulkheads and vacuum. Should their deflectors fail, the vessels would fall quickly.


Damned toothpicks, thought Captain Aurov, acting commander of the First. With a worn cigarra always clamped between his teeth and a powerful, muscled frame, Aurov appeared more an Army sergeant than naval squadron commander. Respective to his appearance, he shared with his infantry-comrades a healthy penchant for profanity. He disliked the Valors and let others know it no uncertain terms.


“ Blast it, Garret! Tighten up!” he scowled, looking port at one of four gunships escorting the triplet of cruisers.


“ Svetlana to Fortitude: re-compute standard speed and decrease engine output accordingly. You are breaking formation.”


Lieutenant Gettis, the Svetlana’s executive officer, chuckled quietly to himself. Even though the squadron-liaison officer was correctly re-wording the Captain’s commands and transmitting them to other ships on the spot, the act was nonetheless funny to watch a Flippanno keep emotion from his voice.


“ Sir, we are coming up on planetary orbit,” Gettis relayed from his starboard-side terminal.


“ Decrease speed to one-eighth. Prepare-“


“ Captain!” reported the sensor officer with no lack of urgency to his tone. “ Debris off the bow! Some sort of ionic radiation was shielding our scanners. Kilotons of crap are all around us!”


“ Evasive action! Steer 305 mark 45!” Aurov braced himself on the bridge rail, looking down into the row of stations below the command dais. The helmsman directly infront of him was working his console furiously as he ignited the ventral-bow thrusters and re-initialized the sublight engines. Despite great stress and alarm, his hand was steady on the immense wheel by which the ship was rotated laterally.


The Svetlana rolled to port and pitched her bow towards Dubrillion’s northern pole with speed uncharacteristic a ship its size. Chunks of twisted durasteel, scorched with the aftermath of flame, lazily swayed above the brown remnants of a world once alive. Amidst the carnage drifted small parts that were too curved to be separated portions of ship: crimson blotches against the atmosphere could be nothing but blood and flesh frozen by space. A horrid ballet with no end took shape in orbit of Dubrillion, the scattered remains of ships and people going on as far as the human eye could see.

The seven ships of the First Detachment moved as one on the orders of their commander, pushing space out of their way by the force of powerful drive trains laboriously formed across the galaxy. Bits of humanoid remains were devoured by fire as superheated exhaust pulsed forth. It was perhaps fitting that those who lived by war were given a farewell by fire, the all consuming medium in which battle was waged.


“ We’re clear, sir.”


“ There are viewports all over this serrn’d ship! How the trets does an entire crew go blind?”


Lieutenant Gettis ignored the Captain’s colorful admonition and instead looked to the ship’s sensor officer. “ Chief?”


“ The radiation must be playing hell with scanners, but when we got close enough, the wake of our ships dispersed the ionic interference. What was shielded we now see.”


Aurov pulled the chomped cigarra from between his lips then an igniter from his inner-pocket. As he surveyed the now visible mess around him, he didn’t like having his ‘sight’ back…

[Telan Desaria]

“…I have sent some men out to explore the wreckages and find any intact hardware that might be of use. We have already found some operable weaponry, mostly small arms, suggesting a boarding action of some kind. Another point of note is that everything we have discovered, be it weapons signatures or parts of markings, is Imperial in origin.”


Admiral Laran thanked the quarter-sized holo-image of Lieutenant Gettis before deactivating the projector pad. She was thankful Captain Aurov had delegated the task of making a report to his executive officer, knowing full well his inability to be proper or precise. The acting commander of First Detachment was an excellent leader of men and ship captain, but a poor officer.


“ Report, gentlemen.”


There were several officers, all male, assembled around the Admiral’s desk. Represented was Intelligence, the General Staff, and the Germania’s senior commanders. Laran was smart enough to ask the opinion of others, unlike some predecessors who had been too proud to heed it.


“ The ionization that confounded our scanners as well as our sight was caused by some sort of plasma weaponry. Radiation left in its wake reacted with energy discharges creating a cloaking shield of sorts. Only when our cruisers neared did it disperse so we could see what it was hiding.”


Laran looked directly at the ship’s science officer, Lieutenant Commander Blessiv. “ Was it intentional? A fortunately-placed minefield?”


“ Doubtful. The time that it would take to create such a reaction by intent would have been noticed by someone.”


Captain Cermann turned from his casual stance at the Admiral’s side. “ The planet’s population perhaps?”


“ Definitely. One thing I was able to establish after analyzing weapons signatures and the situation in general left me sure. A small percentage of the exchange here came from Federacy ships.”


No attempt was made to conceal anyone’s amazement, least of all Colonel Ryzan, Intelligence liaison to the Admiral’s staff. In his astonishment he spat his caf clear across the room.


“ Then it was a scout or patrol, but they have no bases in this region.”


Cermann turned his glare back to the ship’s science officer. “ And the planet?”


“ That has been time. It has been shelled in history you might say. No one’s been the surface yet, so I don’t know. Best guess – Dubrillion has changed hands so many times it’s been a constant battlefield. The debris is consistent with some ships the Remnant uses: whichever side.”


Admiral Laran pursed her lips. “ So, if I am clear: the feuding sides in the Remnant have been squabbling for control over Dubrillion so much that it has been made near-worthless? And one day, a Federacy scout ship dropped in, was fired on by, another, or both, and let them have it. It left and they went back to their battle.”


Cermann sighed. “ Let’s hope this was an isolated instance between the Syndicate and Remnant. Imagine what they could do to Kamaar, Bastion, or Brita-Kajarro…”


The Admiral smiled, confident. I assure you, Commander, they will not do it to Bastion. Grand Admiral Desaria will arrive before they have a chance to sow the seeds of destruction.

[Telan Desaria]

Two Hours Later…


Red lanterns flashed incessantly in every corridor and compartment on the cruiser Svetlana. Accompanying the flickering glowpanels was the whine of the ship’s alarm, up one octave of piercing annoyance before descending another only to start again. Those of the vessel’s company not to be on duty at the time of the sounding klaxon found themselves jolted from sleep or pleasure and summoned to general quarters.


No sooner had Captain Aurov relaxed into his silken sheets when the wail of danger sounded. Grumbling, the grizzled officer had nothing but bad feelings as he stormed towards the bridge. Admiral Laran had departed with Second and Third Detachments to patrol the surrounding systems and could not arrive for thirty minutes in an emergency.


Bad things only happen when the boss is gone. Aurov did up his tunic as the doors to the bridge whooshed open to admit him. They closed once more, trapping him in a den of burden where his decisions affect thousands of men whose lives have been thrust into his hands.


“ Captain has the bridge.” Lieutenant Gettis clicked his heels and left Aurov’s usual perch between two sunken pits holding the navigator and helmsman. The executive officer returned to his normal station in the middle of a ring of terminals off to starboard.


“ Report!” Aurov pulled a silver case from his inner breast pocket and removed a round, blunt-tipped cigarra. Though many officers indulged in smoking, they lit their cigarras whereas Aurov usually chomped on his.


The ship’s tactical operation’s officer looked up from his seat to port. “ Unidentified ship five thousand kilometers out and closing. I’m running the design through the database.


“ Whose flag is she flying?”


The CommScan tech aft of the TacOps station reported. “ Her IFF signal is Remnant, but I can’t tell whose side she’s on. Neither force has changed their broadcast frequencies.”


“ They haven’t had time – they’ve been too busy making each other’s worlds useless,” quipped Gettis, typing his lockout code into his station.


Aurov grunted. Looking down into the navigator’s pit, he saw one of the screens portraying their ‘guests’ picture. A thick centerline with a widened aft was moving towards Dubrillion - and the First Detachment above.


“ Well, there’s one to find out. She came out of hyperspace so far out because the system is so compact. If they’re bringing friends, we’ll see them in time. Navigator – plot us an intercept course. Helm - engage at one-third. Lieutenant Torret – raise shields and order all crews to ready their guns.”


A chorus of acknowledgements rang through the bridge, and as orders were relayed throughout the other six ships of the squadron, their bridges came alive as well. Were precision the only key to battle, the Imperials would have won the engagement before it began. The Svetlana began a long yaw to port, the two Valor-class cruisers in her aft quarters doing likewise. The four gunships spread out around the center mass executed their maneuvers excellently.


“ I’ve found a match, sir,” Lieutenant Torret said as the squadron moved ever closer towards its mysterious visitor. “ I can’t get a name from her signal, but she is a Lennox-class battlecruiser.”


“ Lennox-class? I’ve never heard of them,” chirped Gettis.


“ That’s because we don’t use them any more. The last ones were decommissioned thirty or so years ago – or so I thought. We never built any, only bought them from Sienar. Their turbolasers kept overloading.”


“ Oh.”


“ Send this. Approaching Vessel. If you are operating under Admiral Lebron, you are aware of the treaty in affect with the Empire. Be you a Syndicate Craft, you are ordered to return to Bastion. Either way, the Galactic Empire claims this planetary system and you are to vacate immediately. Disobedience with this directive will result in your termination. Torret: send a shot across her bow just to ram our point home.”

[Telan Desaria]

In the blink of an eye, the message broadcast by the First Detachment of the Imperial Grand Raider Division was sent before Governor-General Kaminskii. Protected by meters of durasteel and reinforced permacrete bulwarks, the wiry and slightly crazed bureaucrat paced back and forth in the confines of his command chamber.


Kaminskii sat, head in hand, as he read the text over and over again. Its very lines appeared to be etched in digitized form upon the man’s eyes. Twenty minutes had passed since the signal arrived; not once in that span of time had the Governor-General averted his eyes from the script.


Standing about the room, intentionally designed like the chambers of Emperor Palpatine, were several aides and deputies, each one equally nervous as to their master’s decision. In fairness, their weariness was appropriate as the Governor-General’s position was a precarious one. The outbreak of civil war in the Remnant had almost forced him to chose one of two sides though he deftly evaded such a decision by choosing a third: his own. He sat in a strategically vital position at the farthest Remnant enclave, forcing the territory of the crescent-shaped Syndicate to bend around it. All sides in the internecine struggle saw fit to decimate as many of their enemies as possible, chewing Kaminskii’s reserves to uselessness. Bastion’s decision to join the action was untimely and had left Dubrillion all but lifeless.


“ Sir, Captain Edan is requesting orders. They have fired a warning shot and will not give him much longer.” Major Lockeal, once famed fighter ace, had been branded a traitor by the ‘real Imperial’ forces now occupying Dubrillion. He had never second-guessed joining the ranks of Lebron’s resurrected Remnant after the Vong invasion, but he was seriously doubting his own sanity having stayed on Sinsang.


“ A predicament we are in, no doubt. They are more powerful but we cannot be seen as weak.”


Lockeal barred his teeth and stepped forward from the small mass of other lackeys. “ Sir, what are your orders? We have a battlecruiser in system! Six quad-turbolaser turrets can make minced-meat of that threat!”


Though prohibited from flying, the Major still wore the blue cuff-stripe of the Fighter Corps. He retained as well the brashness of such an affiliation and found his superior’s lethargy irritating to say the least.


“ Hmmm….a problem has arisen. What to do?”


Governor-General Kaminskii was not human – but he was humanoid. Taken as a spawn from his home of N’zoth, he had taken quickly to service in the ranks of Imperial war machine. Though the only Yevethan in the Empire, he heard no prejudice perhaps for the six inch claw nestled in his palm. His skin was a pale grey, showing acute signs of aging. Death was slowly attaching itself to his soul, but not his body. There was no doubt he could out-fight all of the soldiers in the subterranean base.


“ This is intolerab-“


Major Lockeal did not finish his sentence. There was a sharp pain in his throat before the world faded to black. The man’s blood trickled down his grey-green uniform and pooled as his feet. Kaminskii retracted his claw and let the cadaver fall to the floor, lumped and broken. None of the other aides spoke. “ Captain Edan may fire.”

[Telan Desaria]

Captain Aurov looked on with a face of consternation as his enemy’s ship proceeded across the path of the Third Detachment. Under the bow-spar hung five quad-turbolaser turrets, visibly rotating on its dorsal-mount towards the Imperial ships. Their traverse was slow and plodding but sure. Only a matter of seconds remained before the powerful cannon could be fired.


“ Fortitude and Rivamon to break formation and commence out-ward arc towards the Lennox’ aft. Ulitar and Iradon: outward arc to port and concentrate on disabling forward areas. Trevorit and Romanovsky maintain pattern delta with us. Fire at will.”


Orders were relayed over tight-beam ship-to-ship laser, bypassing the jamming effect created by competent officers aboard the battlecruiser. The first pair of gunships engaged their engines and sped off away from the triangle of Valor-class cruisers. Concurrently, the remaining pair distanced itself in the opposite direction, both duos looping around the battlecruiser’s firing area to attack bow and stern alike.


“ Raise shields. Arm all weapons. Hold fire until my command.”


Captain Mettiv Del Robos moved to the side of his ship’s commander and came to attention. “ My fighters, sir?”


Aurov shook his head and returned his attention to the actions of his six other warships, displayed on a green-lined grid of space between his chair and the bow viewports. Robos was disheartened but knew his fighters would only get in the way. Though disabled himself and relegated to a flight operations officer, the pilot in him yearned for action at every turn.


“ They’re firing!”


“ Brace for impact!” Aurov tightly clung to his metal chair, waiting for a salvo to crash into the Svetlana’s bow shields. Once an officer aboard such a ship as his enemy fielded, he knew the power of a quad-turbolaser turret. As a testament to their potency, Imperial Star Destroyers of almost every type carried several turrets.


The salvo came hard and fast, red-tinted light pulsing forth from each gun. Two of the Lennox’s turrets were trained on the detachment’s command ship, adding to eight high-powered shots burning into the deflectors. Any crewman that could stand long enough to gaze fore could see the shields buckle and strain as raw energy boiled and hissed. Though fired at once, the time-slowing affect of battle gave every man the impression of rocking with every shot.


Moving off the Svetlana’s aft-port quarter was the Orator. Three of the quad turrets were trained on it as the Valors approached, and all three fired a fierce cannonade into her bow. Shields held then gave, armor rattled then buckled, and oxygen burned before disappearing forever into space. Globs of steel, liquefied by the blasts’ intensity, froze quickly above Dubrillion.


Noticing the Orator’s damage, another salvo was poured into her top hull, now exposed to fire as the ship lost attitude control. There were shields up before the blast, but not after. The hull could not maintain itself and began shredding away, pieces of debris slamming into the ship with terrible force. Fire consumed what continuity remained of the dying warship.


“ Range!”


“ Fifty klicks!”


“ Open fire at twenty five, then break to course 080 mark 075.”


The two Valors continued towards their attacker, intact and angry.

[Telan Desaria]

“ They’re still coming on, sir.”


Captain Edan waxed indignant. He had eliminated one of the three most powerful ships arrayed against him and survived strafing runs by four gunships. “ This breed of Imperial does not learn well. Let’s give them a free lesson, shall we? Lieutenant Axton, re-train all batteries on the leading cruiser and fire when ready.”


“ Aye sir,” replied the gunnery chief.


“ Two of the gunships are coming around. They’re aiming for the port again, sir. Shields holding at seventy.”


“ Use the bow laser cannon. That should drive them off.”


Adjutant-gunnery officer 3rd Lieutenant Remmin nodded and sent orders to crews of six light laser cannon jutting from the bow. There was not a man on the ship who, despite the battlecruiser’s age, doubted victory against a few weaker opponents.

[Telan Desaria]

“ Now!”


The gunship Fortitude came in low over the bow of the Lennox then broke away over the heads of the oncoming Valors. Before running, two flaps on the gunship’s flanks had fallen open releasing its entire payload of concussion missiles – 25 in all. They were not armed, but still explosive.


Behind the gunship blossomed a bright nova and the missiles were bounced around on jagged armor plating. Always temperamental of their handling, the missiles responded angrily by exploding and showering the hull with flame. Superheated fragments of metal casing ripped through the hull to play hell with any circuitry of conduit not destroyed or rendered useless by fire.


Lieutenant Dolbun, Captain of the Ulitar, mimicked his comrades’ action by dropping his payload over the engine-funnels aft of the command center. A like explosion tore every fitting from its place and threw men and machine alike about as if they were toys. Between Batteries 3 and 4, the Lennox-class Battlecruiser began to split in half, the forward section propelled dorsally by the force of an explosion and the aft forward by inertia. The halves reunited in a terrible meld of decking, hull, and armor. Sections a hundred meters long flew away with the speed of snubfighters.


Before his death, Captain Edan damned himself for his lack of knowledge on gunships: all former Sovereignty-designs carried missiles….

[Telan Desaria]

Captain Cermann stood before the bow viewports of his bridge watching his ship careen through the swirling blue depths of hyperspace. His command, a heavy cruiser eight hundred meters at the keel, boasted an impressive arsenal unlike its Immobilizer ancestor, the famed 418 Interdictor. To stand on its bridge and feel the vibrations given off by eight massive drive shafts filled him with a good deal of pride.

That pride was not lessened when he saw the reflection of Admiral Serena Laran shimmering in the transparisteel. Many an officer felt oppressed and even shamed to have a flag officer call his bridge home. Cermann was one of the younger breed of officers, a veteran of five years’ service who had seen the chaos of units without leaders. Such formations were preyed upon by more disciplined enemies and such lessons learned. Captain Cermann, like his more intuitive peers, saw having a flag beacon in his ship’s transponder was a badge of honor.

“ We are reverting to realspace now, Captain.”

Cermann acknowledged the ship’s hyper-navigator, an older warrant officer standing to port behind his terminal. One move of his head later, the Captain faced his executive officer, an elder Kaminoan – the only one in the Imperial Armed Services.

“ Weapons crews report ready. Fighters are standing by.”

Cermann straightened himself. “ Prepare-“

The Captain was cut off by the utterance of a duplicate order from behind him. “ Prepare all fighters for immediate launch upon reversion.”

Admiral Laran entered the bridge, awake and fully aware. She had, as usual, not taken the Captain’s advice to rest. She did not doubt his competence as he feared, instead only sensed her need.

“ Admiral has the bridge.” Cermann sighed and took his place behind her as she mounted her command chair.

“ Reversion complete.”

Admiral Laran looked fore through the viewports at the barren rock of Dubrillion, a world the gods had forsaken. Millions of Imperial citizens having vanished in a cross fire, casualties of civil war within the Empire’s shattered periphery. The Admiral had no doubt it would forever be a memorial to the stupidity of internecine conflict. It was the very lack of vision such insurgents had in abundance that the Empire was now erasing, evidenced by her force’s mission.

Ahead of the Germania the Svetlana minus three of its comrade-ships within the detachment.

“ Captain Aurov is hailing, Madame.”

Laran nodded and a holographic image- life-size – appeared before her.

“ Madam Admiral, my report on the action is en route. However, a message was delivered via Viper Automaton I thought you should see.”

The Admiral again nodded as the Captain’s image was replaced by a Viper Probot. Then, after some hazy shifting of hues and uncoding of an encrypted transmission, it faded to a man wearing the dress-blue uniform of the Fighter Corps.

“ I’m a Lieutenant General now – I thought a little self promotion was in order since higher ranks pull strings with greater ease. Give Desaria my best and let him know my memory is pretty good.”

The smug smile of Laran’s face fell into a stern gaze as she saw the message tag:

Anatoly Travess