Her Imperial Majesty's Knights

[Rossos Atrapes]

"My apologies, Captain," the man said without seeming very apologetic at all. "But I must command you to take your ship to the Antar system."

Captain Vance Felline frowned, regarding the Knight before him with a jaundiced eye. The whole bridge crew did, in fact, though some were more circumspect about it than their captain. The Imperial Order of the Knights of the Throne were a new branch of the Imperial Military, and much to the anger and dismay of the other branches, answered only to the Empress. Thus their authority to commandeer Navy ships, Army personnel, and Starfighter Corps was an unquestioned if much hated fact of life that still had not been made routine, four months into their instatement.

"May I ask why, before I give my command over to you, Sir?"

The Knight looked at him with amusement, which only further angered him. The Knight seemed to pick up on this, and nodded, his expression turning opaque.

"There are pirates which have been causing our allies and their ships much hardship in that sector. We believe they may be financed by the Alliance. If they are, we must destroy them, and the Fearless is the only ship capable and close enough to do so. Perhaps we will catch an Alliance ship by surprise."

This caused a hush to ripple through the bridge. Many of the crew of the Raider II class corvette Fearless (http://img2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20150215072011/starwars/images/e/e7/Raider.png) were new; officers just out of the Academy, recruits just out of their training camps, and while some had lived through the Civil War, nearly none had faced it first hand, save for the veteran officers and commanders that had stayed with Felline. The Alliance was the danger and threat that had bloomed from a growing but still undercurrent to a galactic power within the span of months, thanks to the development of the now widely known Starkiller missiles: weapons that could render the surface of a planet completely uninhabitable, killing every soul upon it. The Imperial Navy was now retooling to face the newer, more potent threats of Alliance capital ships as well as the more routine pirates and rebels and seditionists with their mainstay snub fighters and picket craft.Each was trained and impressed with one thing to remember always: the Alliance is the great enemy, and war will inevitably break out once more. Within the undercurrent of eager anticipation was a sense of fear and anger over the Knight's presence aboard. Felline, a newer captain himself, had served with distinction through some of the final battles before the deployment of the incredibly powerful weapons, gaining command of the Fearless in battle when the previous captain had been sucked into space when a concussion missile had breached the hull near the turbolift he had been taking up to the bridge.

Felline, though considering the Knight distasteful — as if he could somehow command his ship, and use whatever powers he had which couldn't match up to the firepower of the Fearless — did know that without the man, this action would have passed them by. This would be of great benefit to the Empire's interests in the neutral sectors, where a series of proxy conflicts between the Alliance and the Empire were beginning to boil over into declared wars. With the lessened threat to Imperial shipping, more pressure could be brought to bear upon the Alliance's allies.

"Helmsman, set course for the Antar system. Bring us out..." he paused, studying the holographic map of the system that had popped up in the bridge's central display. The Knight, still nameless, strode forward and pointed to a large moon orbiting a planet designated Antar 3.

"This is where the pirates are based," he said. "A fortress on an uninhabited and uninhabitable moon."

Felline nodded shortly. "Then bring us out on the inner edge of the asteroid belt, as close to the gravity well of the planet as possible. These scavengers will have no warning, and no time to prepare."

The helmsman replied with a clear and eager 'Sir!', causing Felline to smile. His boys would give these privateers a thorough drubbing. He pressed the comm button, and declared:

"This is Captain Felline. All personnel to war stations. Prepare the missile tubes and load them, and prime the batteries. We will exit hyperspace and fire upon this pirate moon. Commander, prepare your Stormtroopers. While we clear the space, and hammer their defenses, you will take your men down and capture the stronghold. Some survivors will be desirable."

"I will be going with the Commander," the Knight said. Felline nodded shortly once more, glancing at Commander Sherrin Belkas and noting his growing frown. He felt sympathy for the man; but at the same he was also relieved that he would no longer have to suffer the intruder's presence, which grated on him. With a small effort of will, the Captain pushed such thoughts from his head and focussed instead on the coming battle, nodding to the departing commander of his boarding and main defense forces.

"Prepare to power up shields to maximum after the first salvo of missiles has fired," he ordered, enjoying the disciplined rush of his men as the ship entered hyperspace. All that was left was to wait for their exit, and the combat that was to follow.

[Rossos Atrapes]

All sleek one hundred and fifty metres of the Imperial Starship Fearless exited hyperspace in a fraction of a second, facing directly the target moon, orbiting a smaller, gaseous planet that looked quite pleasing with its bands of orange and red and beige hues. Captain Felline spared it only a short glance before the moment called him away.

"We are ten thousand metres from the moon, Captain," the weapons officer reported. The maximum range of the missiles Fearless carried was just under 10,000 metres, at least as far as the sensor packages aboard the corvette were concerned. The missiles themselves were high yield concussion missiles, fit for attacking stationary targets, weakening their shields for the bombers, or for attacking an enemy starship; they were useful enough that with enough of them, the Fearless could engage ships larger than itself by orders of magnitude and still survive. Felline had himself used the Fearless to make surgical strikes on enemy ships, using an accompanying Star Destroyer to force the shields in a particular direction, and then firing missiles at the bridges of the enemy ships from their unprotected sides. "Advance to firing range?"

"Set up a firing solution, Lieutenant," Felline answered. "Project the moon's trajectory and fire missiles at its future positions. We are not constrained by our technology, gentlemen. We merely need to activate the missiles' targeting systems when they are in range of the target. This is not a new or particularly original tactic."

The moon looked deceptively peaceful. They were distant enough that the fortress was not immediately visible to their eyes, and there was little to no traffic in the space around the moon.

"Keep an eye on the asteroid field behind us," he cautioned. "It is very likely they have assets there that will come rushing once the attack starts."

It was the work of moments to plot the missiles' trajectories. When the weapons officer reported that all was ready, Felline relished the moment.

"Fire your missiles, lieutenant," Felline ordered. "Raise shields when missiles are away."

The bridge watched as the missiles arced towards their target. There was a tension that had not yet reached a peak; there was no pitched battle as yet, only the soft gleams of four powerful cylinders rocketing toward their foes.

"Missiles have acquired their target," the weapons officer, Lieutenant Dragu, called.

"Sensors reading shields and weapons on the moon powering up sir," the sensor officer, a new Lieutenant from the Academy on Corulag whose name was Harron, reported. "Nothing from the asteroids yet."

"Four thousand metres to first impact."

"Sir, the Knight wishes to know when the landing teams are to embark," communications ensign Robards called.

"When I say so, and not before!" Felline answered, his mood soured once more by their 'guest'.

"Sir! Contacts in the asteroid field! Twenty fighters, no specification yet, and... it looks like five attack shuttles."

"Prepare point defenses. Increase speed to two thirds. Let us give our landing teams some breathing room. They'll have a hard enough time down on the moon without being bothered before landing."

"Fighters launching from pirate fortress."

"Impact. Impact. Impact. Impact."

The series of explosions ballooned in the viewport as small dusty gold balls of light, belying the violence and destruction they caused. Captain Felline felt a hot satisfaction as the damage report came in. Most of the fighters that were launching from the base were slagged in the explosions, not having been far enough away to avoid the concussion waves, and the base's shielding was almost completely offline.

"Well done Lieutenant. Send my regards to the missile teams below as well. Launch the attack teams."

"Fighters coming up from behind, Captain. Still some distance away, no threat to the landing teams."

Felline ordered the ship turned about. With the lone Imperial ship between the base and the forces from the asteroids, the Fearless could lay in broadsides on the base, and tangle up the fighters and attack shuttles.

"Landing bay doors open, sir. Wait! Fighters are launching ordnance! Looks like proton torpedoes, sir!"

"Prepare for impact!"

[Rossos Atrapes]

"Damage report!" Felline called, his eyes locked onto the holographic representation of the sphere of battle.

"Shields are at twenty percent sir," the engineering ensign, Wilfore, replied. "Some damage to engines, but only from the concussion of the impacts. Rear power grid is fluctuating; some of those blasts must have been ion torpedoes also. We will have aft weapons available in twenty seconds."

"It's too long, sir. The attack shuttles are fixing to board. Some of the fighters have to be Y-wings." Vice Captain Sonkins said, picking himself up from the navigation pit. "They'll fire another round of those to bring down our shields and keep our weapons offline, and then board us."

Felline nodded grimly.

"Sir! The landing teams are taking off! The Knight has given orders!" Felline turned around to stare at the communications ensign. "Some of the transports have stayed back. Two transports have gone with him."

"Damn him! Fool! Does he think I'm trying to keep his glory from him?" Felline slammed his fist down on the holoprojector. Two transports gone meant that they only had fifty Stormtroopers left to hold off the boarding parties at the hangar. Five attack shuttles of the size the pirates had could carry upwards of one hundred boarders. And with their defences down, the shuttles could board wherever they pleased. Near the missile bays, or the escape pods, or even the bridge. "Have our troopers out of the transports. The heaviest attack will come toward us here on the bridge."

Sonkins frowned.

"Sir? They're just as likely to attack the missile bays. Plant charges and leave before setting them off."

Felline shot his second in command a look of annoyance. He knew they could do that, but his instincts were telling him otherwise. Sonkins knew him well enough to understand that the Captain was not some bureaucratically installed officer; he'd won his command in battle, and knew well the tactics that pirates and the like employed during engagements. Sonkins regarded him for another few moments before nodding and shouting out the orders while heading toward the weapons locker for the bridge.

"Crew, this your captain. Prepare for boarding. Open weapons lockers and arm yourselves in case you see action. You are, all of you, crew members of the toughest damn ship in the Imperial Starfleet, and no band of rough rogues are going to bring her down around us!"

The men cheered in response, and Felline accepted the blaster pistol and vibro-blade offered him by Sonkins with a nod. He turned to the officers on the bridge.

"Arm yourselves. First priority however is to get our shields back up and weapons back on line; our point defences are still operational, so I want those blasted fighters turned into space dust before we kill the last of these boarders. Understood?"

"Yes sir!" came the reply from all mouths, and his crewmen moved to complete their tasks while Sonkins delegated the finer points necessary to the plan to individual persons.

The ship rocked again, and the lights dimmed for a second before coming back.

"Shields are down, captain!"

"We're reading multiple contacts on the hull. Two shuttles have landed near hardpoints along the dorsal access hatch bridge, one near missile bay one, and the last near the engineering access."

Felline spared his Vice Captain a short look, before gesturing to him.

"Jasat," he said. "I want you to take some men down to the engineering section. Power must not be cut off."

Sonkins paused, frowning.

"That will leave you with..." he began, but trailed off on seeing the look on his commander's face. He nodded. "It will be done."

"Good," he said, resting a hand on Sonkins' shoulder. "I will lead the defence here. We should be able to hold them off long enough to have you and the Stormtroopers from the hangar bay come upon them from behind. If there are any left."

He grinned. Sonkins aped the expression, though he was visibly troubled. Felline shook his head.

"It can't be any other way. Best of luck to you, my friend."

He turned, and didn't watch Sonkins leave; he was too busy trying to calm himself for the trial ahead, and prepare himself for what he dreaded might be his final engagement.

[Rossos Atrapes]

Blood and smoke ran thick through the corridors of the Fearless, and Captain Vance Felline of Imperial Starfleet still stood, though his uniform was torn and bloodied. Before him lay the body of his Vice Captain, Jasat Sonkins, with a large blaster burn in his stomach. The day was won, but the ferocity of the boarders had been fearsome indeed; casualties were much higher than anticipated, even among the Stormtrooper company that had been left behind by the Imperial Knight and the other shuttle that had followed him. Their discipline and marksmanship had won the day without a doubt, but instead of folding and retreating to their attack shuttles, the rogues had tried to push through to the bridge and the engineering sections to a man. Such dedication was almost unheard of, and its meanings and implications were more than troubling him.

"Sir."

Felline turned from his quiet regard of his friend's corpse to a young ensign, whose name he didn't know. It was almost impossible to know the names of all his crew, who numbered nearly three hundred souls.

"It's our transport shuttles sir. They're on their way back, and are requesting permission to land."

"They know damn well they have permission to land. What is that Knight playing at?" Felline said in return.

"Sir, the request doesn't come from the Knight."


***


The first he saw of her, she was striding confidently down the ramp of the shuttle, her armour scored and dusty, her dark blue cloak nearly in tatters about her shoulders. She was a Twi'lek, a race more known for its females used as slaves and dancers. And here was a red-hued one walking amongst the Stormtroopers and Imperial officers as if she were born to do so, and command them.

"I am Knight Iscandar," she said shortly in completely understandable if accented Basic, bowing to him. Felline was still a bit slack-jawed. "Unfortunately, Knight Drummon perished during ze assault on ze base."

"Yes," he said after a moment. "Er, yes. Indeed. Were you — were you on the station when we attacked?"

Iscandar's brow twitched.

"Yes. Did not Knight Drummon inform you of ze objective here?" She seemed frustrated more than anything else, her tones and speech, while enjoyable, were strained enough that Felline could feel her irritation. Her eyes narrowed and she turned to face him fully.

"He mentioned pirates being financed by the Alliance," Vance said. "But the pirates showed incomparable bravery and determination when they boarded us. They were attempting to destroy the ship from the inside."

"Zose," Iscandar said, "were not pirates. Zey were Alliance, operating clandestinely in zis secteur. Mai ouis, zey were more formidable zan mere pirates. But you knew zis."

Vance frowned, but nodded.

"I did," he answered slowly. Iscandar nodded slowly, her attention focused elsewhere, which annoyed the Starfleet man considerably.

"I wish to view any recordings of ze battle on board zis ship, Captain," she said shortly, and Felline nodded after a moment.

"Of course," he said. "Right this way."

[Vance Felline]

Imperial Knight Iscandar was an enigma, and Captain Felline was having a hard time comprehending her. Just looking at her was giving him a sense of change. A non-human, a female non-human at that, so easily assuming command and seeming perfectly at ease walking at his side to where he would be reporting to her. It was unheard of in Starfleet. But things were changing, and Felline was unsure how he felt about how that would impact Starfleet in its mission to exert the Empire's influence both within and without its territory.

"This way, milady," Felline gestured, and entered his ready room, where a wall was covered in screens. She said nothing, and entered the commands on the console with a speed and dexterity that did more than anything else to convince Felline that she was in fact a Knight. Suddenly the screens burst to life, showing the various battles that had raged through Fearless. Felline's focus was drawn to them, and he couldn't help a surge of pleased satisfaction at how well his crew had acquitted themselves against such a dangerous, well trained, and unexpected enemy.

"Your crew 'andled zemselves well, Captain."

Felline brought himself out of his own internal musings and once more focused on Knight Iscandar. Her face was set in a diplomatically amused expression, framed by the odd headwear she sported. She was quite beautiful.

"They did, and more," Felline answered, mind back on topic. "Against such an enemy, I could not have hoped for such a good showing."

"I am especially impressed with ze way you conducted yourself. 'Ow did you know zat ze brunt of the ze attack would be against ze bridge?"

Felline pause, suddenly on edge. What was she suggesting? Her face revealed nothing.

"A number of factors, milady," he answered. "The grouping of the attack shuttles did not suggest they were heading for the torpedo bays, nor engineering; at least not in force. The attack strategy, ion weaponry to knock out our defences and only damaging attacks to draw our fire away from their transports, was not one for complete destruction, but for seizure."

He stopped, and Iscandar tilted her head slightly in askance.

"Capitain?" She asked.

"And I had a feeling," he finally answered. "I felt there was more to the situation than I was perceiving."

Iscandar nodded, as if his statement had confirmed something for her.

"Indeed. It may be premature, Capitain, but I suspect you were using ze Force."

Felline did not comprehend straight away what she was saying. Even when he understood, he still did not comprehend.

"You — you must be mistaken, milady. I cannot be a Knight."

"Of course not," she replied easily. "You must be trained first. And from I 'ave seen, you do not need much."

Felline staggered back a bit, and sought out a chair. Iscandar frowned.

"I — I am honoured, milady," he replied, understanding that his command was now gone; he wouldn't be drummed out of service, but quietly pushed into the Citadel. He tried to picture himself in Knightly Blues, but the thought was disquieting. He much preferred Starfleet Grey.

"You are not," she replied. There was no anger in her tone, which prompted him to look up and smile weakly.

"No," he said. "I am not."