Battles

The Battle for Remora III

An Allinace Cargo station hangs in orbit around the third planet of a four planet binary Star-System.
Year: 5 ABY
Stars:
- Remora Prime
- Remora Minor
Planets:
- Remora I (Rock, no atmosphere)
- Remora II (Habitable, barely) Two moons.
- Remora III (Temperate Jungle) One moon.
- Remora IV (Gas Giant) twelve moons, one disk.

The station is surrounded by cargo-containors, a single pair of X-Wings patrol the quiet system.
The Station is home to a new secret Alliance Project.

Sara Phaley blinked trying to shake of the dizziness. Whatever had hit them, it had given them quite a plunge ride out of hyperspace. She felt slightly sick.

"Report!"
"Something hit us."
"Damage?"
"None, Ma'am. No sign of EMP disruption or anything else. No physical hits or anything.
Well, that was the good news after the shock.
"Where are we?"
"We are ..." the officer started. "I don't know, Admiral."
"Could you detail that?" Sara demanded. That answer was not really satisfying.
"Our sensor systems have gone crazy. Whatever has hit us, it has made our systems go haywire. I'm trying to recalibrate."
"Do that!" Sara approved. So much for them. Looking out of the bridge viewport she let out a sigh of relief spotting the bulky shape of the old destroyer hanging beside them at a moderate distance. Pushing a button on her arm console revealed a comm pad on which she keyed in some codes and commands.
"Inferno, come in. Can you hear me?"
"Inferno here." The voice of a middle-aged man replied with slight distortions. "We hear you Dominance. What has happened?"
"We're elaborating this just now." Sara explained. "How's your status?"
"We're pretty much alright. Sensors have gone crazy. We're recalibrating them now."
"Good. Stand by for further notice."
"Acknowledged, Dominance. Inferno out."

"Sensors back up, Admiral."
"Excellent. So where are we?"
"We're somewhere between ESS and Corellian territory. This should be the Remora system." There was a pause. "That is, at least where we are."
Sara frowned. There was an odd tone in his voice. "What do you mean?" Sara asked.
"We're in the Remora system, that is for sure.... but"
"but?"
"Look at this." the man said. In that moment a flash lit up the bridge as a large three-dimensional image of numerous stars and their systems. "This is the Remora system" said Marcus. "the way it should be." Whatever the man was just elaborating, it was enough to unrest her. Sara observed the stars and planets spinning idly in front of her.
"Now this ...." said the officer and the image was shrinked to half its size. "is the Remora System as sensors read it now." A new starmap appeared in front of her. The planets and stars were still there but the positions and constellations clearly differed from the other image.
"The constellation of the stars and planets is totally out of place."
"I see what you mean." Sara admitted." Her sick feeling grew stronger, when she started to realize what she was seeing here. "Can you find out the exact time of this constellation?"
The man's expression darkened. "2523::05::28 UPT."
Sara stared at the image. "That means we're ten years in the past."

"Sir, the subspace drive is now stable."

"What happened?" Janson demanded.

"It looks like the new shield generators destabilized the subspace window that we tried to open. Looks like we best stick to hyperdrive with the shields. These subspace drives are best for short jumps anyways."

"Any damage?"

"Electronics and sensors acting erratically. We are picking up some strange contacts at extreme range that weren't there before."

"Get us into the drift and shut down non-essential systems." Commodore Janson sighed. He really shouldn't be out here. As heir to the Supreme Commander of the Corellian Empire, his advisors kept telling him that he was too valuable to risk testing the new ships they occasionally brought in with the array. He had always responded that nowhere was safe, with the spacefolds that appeared randomly increasing in frequency. They were the whole reason for the array, to try to control them. It was a mess, one Janson was soon to inherit. The Supreme Commander was not long of living. And here he was, testing the third attempted refit of standard technologies onto these acquired ships. It was not going well. Kiris station was well behind schedule. Still, he was curious about these new intruders. "Have Killimar Flight make a recon pass of the new vessels. Non-aggressive profile, only."

"Aw great." The sensors officer snarled.
"What is it, Lieutenant?" Sara demanded moving behind the man. She had started pacing the bridge since she hated sitting around waiting for their specialists to come up with a solution for their delicate situation.
"Sensors pick up several contacts outside the system."
"IFF?"
The man's face brightened. "Corellian Empire as it seems."
"Should we hail them, Admiral? Perhaps they ..."
"No!" Sara interrupted. "At this point in our history the CE don't know of our existence."
Her eyes narrowed. Supreme Commander Trageton had made first contact with the CE mere four years ago - out of a rather illustrious and incidental encounter, as he had told her afterwards.
"Remain passive, maybe they'll just overlook us." Yeah right! was the next thought that sprung her mind. Overlooking 13km long battlecruiser in the middle of empty space would take a great deal of ignorance - or dumb luck.
"They're sending out patrols - our way."
So much for overlooking them. Things were getting more than uncomfortable. If they made any contact with the CE, they would risk radically altering the course of events. And ten years were a lot of time to ruin history.
"Plot a hyperspace course out of this system." Sara ordered. "See if we can hide in some nebula until we find a solution for this mess!"
"Too late, Admiral" the comm chief replied, his face had slightly lost color. "We're being hailed."

The Nonis Drift was as uninteresting an interstellar body as one could possibly dare to document. Consisting of tiny particles of obliterated rock, it was a brownish smudge on the sheer blackness of deep space. Yet it did serve one purpose: the lack of anything of interest in the area made it a perfect transit point for cargo convoys.
Into the tranquility of the drift suddenly shot a number of large shapes, decelerating from incredible speeds.

"Status." Vice-Admiral Marcus Pitto said tiredly, more of a statement than a question. He had only recently been granted his rank, and he knew all to well that he had neither the age nor the experience to warrant the title, his crew were likewise fresh-faced recruits. Too many of the Empire's veterans had ran off at the first news of the Emperor's death to the various warlords that had sprung up. This was typefied by the ensign that delivered the report, a young human who had barely started shaving. Nonetheless, the youth was enthusiastic and ambitious, and most importantly showing the first signs of competance.
"All cargo vessels and escorts have reported in, all systems nominal sir."
Pitto sighed, he longed for combat action, and a chance to beat back the usurpers that had murdered so many of his heroes. With an unexpected suddeness that made him jump slightly, the lieutenant manning the sensor station gave an unprofessional yelp and shouted for his commander. Pitto went over him, gave him a stern look and asked with weary resignation,
"What is it?"
"Sir, long range sensors have detected several vessels in the nearby Remora system. The system isn't charted particularly extensively, I have very limited information on it, what little I do have suggests no sentient life, and no colonisation or outposts of any sort. But if the sensors are correct, there's a starship there over 13km long!"
Pitto felt the familiar stirrings of anxious excitement, but his orders and the value of his cargo maintained strictly that there were to be no unnesecary engagements. Still, an unknown 13km vessel could not be counted as an ordinary occurence. In a relatively short space of time, Pitto made his decision.
"Have all vessels hold position until further notice. Continue to monitor the system and alert me to the first signs of any development."
"Aye sir."
Pitto strode off back to the large viewport at the front of the bridge, and stared at the stars.

Freshly graduated Lieutenant Alysonn Hann was still in awe of her status as flight leader. Though to be fair, she was nearly positive it was because her father had been sort of a mentor to both Commodore Janson and Captain Stewart. Either way, she wasn't complaining. The only thing better would be one of the new Erines fighters, but while those things were fare more powerful, it was at a cost of size and manueverability.

"Flight, close up and switch sensors to focused cone. We don't want to get too close, one of those things is the nearly the size of the new Sovereigns back in the Yard."

"Lead, Three. I'm getting funny results on the energy receptor."

"Define funny, Three."

"It looks like the ships have some sort of subspace signature, just like when we use the new drive systems."

"Lead, Two, I've got something else. Try running a transponder inquiry on that big ship."

Alysonn did so as she eyeballed the thing they approached. No longer than her finger at this distance, the thing looked like a cross between a serrated vibroblade and one of the few Executor class that the Corellian Fleet had. The ship ID pinged at her.

##Transponder standard inquiry frequency 131CRC-A##
##Response recieved frequency 141CRC-S##
##Transponder code not in database##
##Transponder code contains recognized subcodes##
##Subcode AFF-ALQ226 matches standard hailing code database##
##Vessel transponder subcode settings are that of allied vessel. Primary transponder settings unrecognized##
##Request manual confirmation of status##
##Transponder registers as as DBC Dominance##
##Name and prefix not in database##

"What the kriff? Good work flight." She keyed her comm to the Trinity. Something like this was worth breaking comm silence.

"Killimar flight to command, request ststus update. We have recieved odd readings on the new ships, including getting a Corellian handshake code from their transponder."

--------------

"...handshake code from their transponder."

Janson ran the code through the main computer again. The code was genuine. But how did these intruders have it? One way to find out.

"Killimar flight, send an inquiry to the vessels as to origin, status, and intentions."

Maybe they were allies, ones that the Supreme commander had kept hidden during his campaign against Warlord DeGaulle.

------------------------------------
I figure that there would be some sort of handshake codes given how often Corellian and ESS ships interact...

"DBC Dominance, this is Kliimar Flight of the Corellian Empire. Please come in!"
Now what to do? They never brief you in time travelling back at the academy.
"Send a standard hailing!" Sara ordered. There was little choice. Although so far safe time travelling had not been technically achieved, the theoretical possibility had been widely known and accepted.

And as she suddenly remembered, sometime within the last century protocols had been defined on how to deal with such encounters.

"Please state your status, origin and intentions!"
Sara sighed. The best thing would probably be laying the cards on the table.
"This is ESS Dominance. We're all clear, no damage. We've been en route from Mithary to Cammos when we dropped out of hyperspace here."
There was a pause. Suddenly Sara realized with shock, what she had said. 10 years before their time, Mithary was still Corellian property - mostly undeveloped but still under their control.
"We received no confirmation of your departure from Mithary. You might want to provide a proper explanation."
Sara silently cursed. So much for standard procedures! Here some improvising was necessary.
"The details of our journey are of classified Command Level Alpha C-228 Epsilon." She dearly hoped this would work. In her time this security clearance code would provide a closed connection to Admiral Wes Janson - it was only available to the highest ESS commanders - General Trageton, Admiral Rhitargo and herself. Whatever his position might be at this point in time, Wes Janson might be the only person - although not yet knowing - whom they could trust.

-----------

Mryna Qhalic hated sitting still. They'd been thrown backwards in time, the news hadn't taken long to roll through the entire ship. Now she was waiting, sitting in the Black Scorpion's cockpit, feet idly rested on the middle console. That discipline which she had showed as fighter pilot and squad leader in the past had slightly worn off - as special forces agent, reporting directly to supreme command she could allow herself more liberties.

But even now those were worth nothing as the entire ship was now under lock-down for the time being. Yet her instincts told her that this wouldn't be for long. Something was coming up, she could feel it. Things would not go off as smooth as the officers and captains would like. There were always many variables.

"The details of our journey are of classified Command Level Alpha C-228 Epsilon."

Alysonn frowned. "What the kriff?" she mumbled to herself. That wasn't a classification code, it sounded like a communications frequency. Not one that she recognized, at the least. And why were they coming from Mithary, anyways? There was nothing there, just a little backwater planet. resource rich, according to rumors, but beyond a small observation station, nothing. She switched the comm back to the Trinity. "Killimar Flight to Trinity Actual, we have a situation."

"Go ahead, Flight." The response was nearly instantaneous.

"They say they came from Mithary, and gave us a bogus classification code. It sounded like a comm code though. Alpha C-228 Epsilon."

There was a hiss on the other side. "I was right. The Supreme Commander must have kept this as a backup plan. All right. May as well try talking to them directly."

--------------

"This is CEV Trinity to ESS Dominance. I must apologize, but we were not informed of your arrival by Supreme Commander Wainwright. You may not want to give out his comm code to just anyone, or he may have to change it. Please restate why you are in-system."

A female voice replied with what sounded like relief mixed with confusion. "Good to hear from you Trinity. We were on a shakedown cruise from Mithary when our escort suffered a drive failure."

"Shakedown cruise? There are no shipyards at Mithary. Mind explaining?"

"No Corellian shipyards, no. We've had some facilities there since the Supreme Commander gave us permission to use the system."

Wainwright letting an ally build a shipyard in Corellian Space? That didn't seem to add up. Not only would Janson have known about it, but the Admiral was notoriously paranoid, which had admittedly served Corellia well at times. He wondered if this were a Stumbos trick. If it was, it could be a problem. "Captain Arden, contact fleet command, and have them deploy the Night Raven to our position." "Dominance, why were you trying to contact Admiral Wainwright?" There was a long pause.

Say no more! a part of Sara kept commanding herself. Each word you speak will make things worse!
The other part would just empty her heart and tell the whole story. She was a strategist, not a diplomat, for the stars' sake!
Calm down, Sara!
"Our situation is far more complicated than it appears."
"I assume that." Then Sara recognized the voice - serene but hard as durasteel. Wes Janson. "Now please fill me in: What was your dealing with Admiral Wainwright?"
Again Sara cursed. She should have read Janson's bio more intensely - as it looked, he was not yet holding the title of Supreme Commander. She'd never met this Wainwright, and since Janson was in charge back in their time, she assumed neither had Trageton.
"Actually" she started. "We were trying to contact you, Admiral Janson...?"
There was a long pause.
"You flatter me, but so far I only hold the rank of Commodore. Why would you assume I hold supreme command over the Corellian Empire?" The voice recognizably lost height.
"Who gave you this information - and for what purpose? and most of all: who provided you with the clearance code?"
The distressed report from left of hers barely caught her attention. "They're raising their shields."
"The answer is probably more simple for us than it is for you." Loose phrases, she thought, nothing that would really satisfy the Corellian Commander. "You gave it to us."
"Me?" Janson replied hardly impressed. "I'd most certainly remember that."
"That's right Sara admitted. "In fact, it will be a few years until you will give us the codes."
There was a pause. Miraculous as it was, her answer surely had made Janson think. Slowly she regained her confidence. She could convince him of their situation if she picked the right arguments at the right time.
"What do you mean?"
"time." Sara said. "you and we share a common history. Unfortunately, and this is our problem" Sara continued, "this history lies your future." That was pathetic. She was talking as if to a crowd of common folk before her. Yet a phrase like 'we come from the future' was hardly appropriate.
"Is that so?" Janson said and his voice seemed to have dropped another half octave. "Enlighten me!"
"Actually we aren't supposed to have met yet. In a few years you will encounter a new civilization at the edge of the Corellian Empire. From this encounter an alliance will be established between the two cultures.
"That is a lovely story, ESS Dominance." Janson replied icy. "Why would I believe you?"
Sara sighed. "I have no means of proving my statements without risking radical - and probably fatal - influences on the natural course of time."
"You're speaking of the temporal prime directive." Janson said slowly. His tone had changed. "Considering the possibility that what you say is true, we would indeed have a problem here."
"As of now, I can only assure you that we are allies to the Corellian Empire and our sole intention is to get back to where - or when - we came from."
"Admiral?" She blinked. This time the sensors officer's voice was alarmed enough to gain her attention.
"Excuse me, Commodore" Sara apologized and turned to the man. "What is it?"
"sensors pick up echoes from the nearby Nonis Drift."
"A ship?"
"Possible, but unclear. That debris does a good job in coverage. Something is in there."

On the bridge of the Subjugator, Pitto sat transfixed by the ghostly blue image before him. The enigma of the sword-shaped vessel’s origins was compounded by small details the Admiral actually recognised. In it, he saw design elements from the archaic Venator-class, the colossal Executor-class and innumerable others; where his own Imperial-class was viciously contoured, imposing and possessing of a cold splendour, the avatar of the unknown vessel before him was a thing of artistic and wondrous beauty, bearing a striking elegance in its size and aggressive taper. Despite the misleading sense of familiarity, the ship was clearly different from anything Pitto had encountered before; the bridge tower and dorsal superstructure were a radical departure from any of the Empire’s other designs, but the possibility of anyone but the Empire possessing a ship of such great size was difficult to contemplate.
Yet Pitto had vague recollections of a ship of comparative size that the Emperor had given to one of his force-wielding cronies; even as he tried to recover from the depths of his memory the images he had seen of that ship, Pitto wondered if perhaps this could be the custom design of some wealthy Imperial hierarch, or a particular favourite of the late Emperor.
Pitto found himself suddenly overcome with desire, both to find out more about it, but also to do everything he could to possess such a vessel for himself. The fracturing of the Empire had left the true loyalists lacking a large proportion of their once mighty starfleet, and any cruiser larger than an ISD was an incredibly valuable property. Pitto knew for certain the mysterious starship was not a loyalist vessel, and the way he saw it that left him two options: capture the vessel for the Empire, or else destroy it. Of course neither provided much comfort; they were both near impossible tasks for his limited task force.
Or were they? Sensors had shown an additional group of unknown capital ships, and an as yet overlooked rebel outpost all in the same sector. Though no fighting had broken out, the postures the various ships were adopting were hardly friendly: shields were raised and the larger fleet was maintaining a cautious defence pattern, potential allies perhaps?
Pitto’s musings were interrupted by a sudden ping from the comlink on the arm of his chair.
“Yes?”
“Sir, the unknown vessel just attempted a sensor focus on our position, so far as we can tell the drift protected us as expected, but there is a chance they are aware of us.”
Pitto hissed sharply, events were rapidly beginning to unravel.
“Contact Admiral Dharma, inform him of events and our current status and copy sensor reports to him. Recommend forwarding this to Director Isard, and then patch me through to Captain Velsner.”
“Aye sir!”
There followed a few seconds of faint static, before Velsner’s deep baritone came through.
“Admiral?”
“I assume you’ve been kept informed of events, captain? I want you to scramble Tau squadron immediately, have them hyper to the Remora system and investigate. Emphasise that they are not, under any circumstances to engage. Their mission is intelligence gathering only. Oh, and tell them not to bother trying to remain unseen, they’ll be detected as soon as they arrive, they are to keep our current position locked in at all time and to bug out at the first sign of trouble.”
Pitto keyed in a command on the comlink, opening the main command channel. “Vice-Admiral Pitto to all commands, make ready to depart to the Remora system at a moments notice, assume system is hostile.”
Shrugging off the pang of guilt he felt at having sent four men to almost certain death, Pitto poured himself a glass of iced water, trying desperately to stop his hand quivering.

*A Claxon blaring jarred Wing Commander Flax from sleep, he slammed the comlink on the wall.*

Flax: Yes.

Comm: Commander, this is the Bridge, the Admiral want you on the Bridge, A-SAP.

Flax: Copy.

*Flax' young wife, Sophae looked up from where her head had rested on his chest. She pushed a strand of rose-blonde hair out of her face and smiled.*

Sophae: Duty calls!

Flax: Ha! The wrong type of duty.

*She sat up, ullowing him to swing his legs out onto the cold metallic floor and dive into the fresher'. Three minutes later he was tollerably clean and shaved. Sophae tossed him smalls, a flightsuit, socks and boots. Dressed, he kissed her on the forehead, hit the door release and set off towards the turbolift at a jog.*

*Flax arrived on the Bridge of the Independance, Flagship of the Third Fleet in another four minutes.*

Flax: *To the Admiral.* Sir, reporting as ordered!

*Rear Admiral Thran was a man in his early forties, short and stocky with dark greying hair and steely eyes he was nothing next to General Avaris, a lean and severe Bothan of middle-age and Third Fleet CAG.*

Thran: Commander, your wing is being prepped as we speak. We have a situation developing in Remora.

*Thran turned to a holo-display.*

We have two opposing fleets in what may be stand-off positions, they both reverted to realspace within a few minutes of each other. Both jumps appear to have been aborted from what we can tell. Six ships, including one of considerable size. We're hoping they'll just leave, or blow each other to bits and leave us alone. Unfortunately we can't leave this to chance.

We CAN NOT allow those prototypes to fall into the wrong hands. Your Wing will be our advance guard. The Defiance and Defender are standing ready but I want to gather the rest of the battlegroup before we jump.

So go in, ask everyone to leave nicely and if that doesn't work cover the evacuation as best you can and frag the station.

Avaris: The Defiance' Wing in standing by but I'm not risking six dozen fighters and one wing will look bad enough. We need to show them we mean buisness, but not provoke them. Don't make any sudden moves.

Flax: Sir, we're still short on torps, my bombers can't carry more than a half load with what we have.

Avaris: I've ordered the magazines emptied. Your Y-Wings will have one full load but don't come back here looking for a reload because we won't have one.

Flax: Understood sir.

*He salutes, spins on his heal and sprints for the turbo lift.*

*Two minutes later, on the fast shoot.*

*Flax exited the fast lift and headed for the centre of the hanger. Arriving in the space clear for emergency briefings he adressed his three-dozen pilots.*

Flax: Okay, here's the situation. We have six unknown Capital-ships of possibly two factions facing off in our research base's back yard. We go in show them we mean buisness, then ask them to go measure up somewhere else. Keep your guns powered down and don't light up your targeting computers unless I say so.

Lets go people!

*The Pilots spinted for their fighters, Flax arrived at his Red One X-Wing, pained with black nose and cannons, vaulting into the cockpit he nodded to the crew cheaf and waved to Chip, his R2, then he pulled on his gloves and helmet. Closing his canopy he keyed his Com.*

Flax: Paladin Wing, requestion Magnum launch.

*Sophae's voice came over the Com, floating down to him.*

Sophae: This is flight, you're all clear Paladin. Come back in one piece.

Flax: Copy, have a cup of Tae ready for the returning hero.

*Flax heard her laughter, then switched to the Wing Channel.*

Okay Paladins, lets go to it, check in by numbers.

*After the Check in the fighters of Red, Gold and Blue Squadrons exited the Independance' hanger bay, running hot for the the jump point. 12 minutes and a short jump saw the Paladin Wing in the Remor system.*

Flax: Unidentified ships, this is Wing Commander Flax, leading Paladin Wing off the AS Independance. You are tresspassing in Alliance terratory and I must respectfully ask you to leave.

The situation was getting busy, fast. First this ESS group from the future, and now the Alliance. All he needed for the Empire to show up or something. Or...

"Shavit!" a brief flicker of light at the corner of the viewport confirmed his suspicions. They had been followed. Evidently DeGaulle had managed to track him here. A scan showed the force to be smaller than expected- a black hulled Vengeance battlecruiser and a trio of Dreadnaughts. First things first. "Sorry, Alliance. We're kind of busy here. ask again later." Next was to get the fleet prepared. While not exactly a wargame, this would work just as well. "All hands, red alert. Set condition one throughout the fleet. This is not a drill. Launch Beta and Gamma wings. Keep Alpha on standby. Gunnery, start heavycharging the capacitors for the main guns. Captain Stewart, take your group and cover our flank."

The bridge crew exploded into action as klaxons began to ring. "Dominance, this is Trinity. You wouldn't happen to know if you were involved in this battle or not?"

"You mean a predestination paradox? We have no way to be sure. We don't have much on the early Corellian history."

Janson grinned wryly, dropping the threatening tone from earlier. "Evidently not. Though I do like the sound of this being considered early. Means I'm around a while." A mild curse drifted back through the comm at having given away more information about the future. The woman in charge of the fleet was far too uptight about the whole timeline thing. Wes knew he really should be too, but a six-month stint at Knossos tended to put things into perspective. Plus, it was always an advantage to have the other person off-balance, especially when they still outgunned you, purported ally or not.

As TIEs streamed out of the hangars of Trinity and Odessey, he could imagine a similar cloud forming around the enemy force. Off to the side, the Alliance force seemed to be holding position, milling in confusion. Loud pinging suddenly sounded over the noisy bridge. "What is it?"

A lieutenant looked up. "We're being scanned by an Imperial scout. And Odessey was just hailed. They thought she was one of theirs."

Janson resisted the temptation to slap his forehead. It was as if he had summoned them by his earlier thoughts. What was next, a giant space weasel? "Tell them if they want to help, there's that battlecruiser they can play with. They are hurting for heavy ships. If they take out the Stumbos group, they can keep her. There's also some Alliance ships in system to play tag with. We may want to get some space, it's looking like this may turn into a melee if someone starts shooting. Chart a course towards the inner system as a withdrawl option."

*At about the same time Red and yellow blips lit up Flax' display, adding to the existing mess of green, blue and purple.*

Flax: Sithspit! Imperial Gunboats. Blue Squad, nail them now! Engage jammers and frag!

Blue Leader: Copy, Red Leader.

*The A-Wings actived their jammers and static filled the cockpits of every fighter. Meanwhile the interceptors had split into wing pairs and were tagging the gunboats with missiles. Flax turned the rest of the wing out of the jamming field and keyed his subspace com.*

Flax: Independance, this is Red Leader, we have Correlian and unidentified ships in the vicinity. Looks like we're in the middle of their Civil War and we've just had Imperial gunboats jump in. Blue group are engaging now. *Flax didn't need to tell them the gunboats were being jammed to stop them getting a message out, anything else would have been shere incompetance.*

Independance: Red Leader, order the station to begin evaction, once all the personnel are clear destroy the station with proton torpedos, don't leave anything for the imps to pick up.

The Imdependance and Defiance will be jumping in shortly, hang tight.

With sensor reports and comm messages flying at him from all directions, Pitto knew that the delicate hornet's nest that was the Remora system had just been blown wide open, and a shootout was inevitable. It was now simply a question of who bore the most scars.

Despite their heavy shielding, the gunboats of Tau squadron were helpless against the swarm of missiles. Their commander immeidately ordered them to bug out, but two of the gunboats vanished in expanding plumes of orange flame and blackened debris before he even finished giving the order. By the time the remaining two ships engaged their hyperdrives, the squadron leader had lost all shield and weapon power, and his wingmate was missing both starboard winglets and the starboard thruster.

"Admiral, incoming message from Admiral Dharma: Green light to engage."
"Acknowledge that transmission, then send this to all commands: All vessels are to make final combat preparations, form up in pattern Victor-1 and enter hyperspace to the given co-ordinates. Further to Admial Dharma, request Interdictor support." Pitto barked at his comm officer. No sooner had he finished than the starfighter co-ordinator gave a shout of his own.
"Sir, Tau 1 and 2 have returned, both heavily damaged. Message coming through now. They say they had their comms jammed by an A-Wing squadron and sustained losses. They also add before they were jammed they received a message from contact uniform-3. Message reads 'we know you're there, if you want a proper starship come and get it, apparently indicating contact uniform-6.'"
Pitto rubbed the bridge of his nose. It had all happened so fast, Rebellion starfighters, seemingly another warlord and now this. Pitto noticed the look on the face of Captain Harkner, his second in command.
"I know what you're thinking captain, it would be suicide. But you know how desperately we need a stronger capital ship, and we seem to have just been given a hunting permit by the strongest faction there, an alliance with them, temporary of course, could end up yielding quite a profit for us. The rebellion will doubtless not be happy to see us, but they're friendless here, we can keep them at bay. Have Lieutenant Gyttel come to the bridge. Recall those two fighters. Helm, lock in the co-ordinates of the drift as an escape plan and then take us in."
With a blinding flash, the collective engines of the titanic spacecraft propelled them into hyperspace, and to battle.

A slow groaning noise made itself felt throughout the bridge and the crew shifted awkwardly when the artificial gravity flickered. "Damn, find that interdictor! The Empire moved fast!"

"It's not the Empire sir, their ships bugged out. I assume they have a fleet arriving. The gravity well is focused on the battlecruiser."

"When did they get around to putting gravwell generators on the Hunter?" Janson pondered out loud. Whatever the answer, it looked like it was going to give them a severe advantage. The Rebels had started the conflict, firing on the small Imperial flight. From the looks of it, both were sending in fleets for a proper engagement. And the battlecruiser would be keeping anyone who arrived right here for a while. His own support was incoming, but when exactly was an unknown. There was the possibility of asking the ESS to take on the Hunter, but he wasn't sure if that would affect their future. Worst case, by trying to intervene, they erase themselves from existance. At least he had one thing going for him. "Have Randall join the fighters. Engineering, spin up the subspace drives. Time to see if it was worth leaving them in when we put in the hyperdrive."

*Flax slammed a gloved fist into the rim of his dashboard.*

Flax: We let two get away.

Independance, this is Red Leader, two Imperial ships got away. We need support now!

Thran: Calm down Commander. The Fleet is ready to jump in.

*The Imperial battlegroup jumps in.*

Flax: I hope you're quick sir, the Imps just re-entered the party, and they brought friends.

Thran: Hang in there Commander. We're on our way.

Flax: *Over wing channel.* Gold Squadron, fall back to the station, try to cover the scientists as they make their escape.

*Interdictor goes live.*

Flax: Oh great, thats all we need. Two can you get a fix on that interdictor?

Red Two: Affirmative, IFF tag is Hunter.

Sara cursed. She remembered the Stumbos Alliance. The final battle against them - alongside the Warrior and Oriskany - had been one of the most brutal battles ever. It was this battle which had intensified the good relation between Trageton and Janson, and had finally led to the foundation of the ESS.

Yet - if this encounter now hadn't happened, Janson probably wouldn't have stayed here long enough for the Stumbos to catch up.

It was a deadlock situation. As of now Janson's battlegroup was clearly outnumbered. If they held back, they might loose him - and with him erradicate the events that led to the ESS foundation. If they intervened, there was no way of telling how things would develop.

Her eyes narrowed - coming to think of it, the second option would at least provide a slight chance to move things in the right directions.

She made a decission. Rising from her command chair she straightened herself.
"Captain, move us to vector epsilon-4:7:3, full throttle ahead. Maximum power to shields and weapons.
"Admiral?" the captain frowned.
"We have yet a performance test to accomplish."
Slowly the huge ship began to move flying an elegant 70° arc to starboard, bringing the Stumbos fleet right into view. Surveying the sensor readings she continued.
"Focus two Omega arrays on the nearest dreadnaught. With the other two target that battlecruiser. Maybe we can bring down its shields quickly for a combined attack."
Returning to her chair she keyed some commands into her arm console. "Inferno, Pull along our right flank and engage those dreadnaughts. Launch Moo squadron to keep us clear of any bombers.

"Omega one and two charged, Admiral" the gunnery officer reported. "Target acquired."
She leaned back and closed her eyes. So here it began. "Fire."
Along the Dominance's side trench two beams beganto crawl over the cruiser's surface, jumping from gunwell to gunwell, steadily intensifying. Finally reaching the final focus points, the beams, hundred times as intensive then when the chain reaction had been initiated, lashed through space. Finding their target the two crimson lances hit one of the Stumbos Dreadnaughts head-on. The old ship's shields held for a second, then the continuous beams broke through and tore through the dreadnaught from bow to stern.

"What the..." coughed Janson's voice dryly over the comm speakers - a mixture of shock and amazement. "Do you know what you are doing, Dominance?"
"Making sure you live to tell the tale."
Sara said. "Sitting back and watching could do just as much harm as intervening, whereas the second option might raise your chances to survive this."
"Omega three and four charged. Target acquired!" She tilted her head regarding their next target. The Hunter, an old Vengeance-class battlecruiser was about the same size as the Dominance - slightly smaller. She recognized quite some similarities in design which the two battlecruisers shared - although the old Vengeance looked far edgier and less streamlined.
"You shouldn't...." Janson tried - seemingly irritated by Sara's sudden resolve compared to her prior cautiousness.
"Sorry, Commodore, but at the moment I outrank you. My decision is set." She gave the gunnery officer a signal. "Fire!"
Again, this time further to the rear, two crimson beams crawled along the side trenches. And once again two powerful lances of energy tore through space, this time hitting the Stumbos' flagship at midship. This time the shields held but were brought down to 50%. Still a long way to go but a first step was made.
"Launch Reaper Squadron. They are to support the Corellians agaisnt those remaining Dreadnaughts. Deploy Vampire squadron alpha to cover them!"

--------------

From cruiser's ventral hangar two groups of fighters screamed into space. Exotic looking both groups showed the distinctive characteristics of TIE fighters but it was obvious that they had gone a long way since then.

The monstrous TIE Reapers - heavy assault fighters. With their four blade-like wings they looked like the claws of a Mytharian dragon.

The other fighters were smaller and carried the characteristic eye-ball shaped cockpit of the original TIE fighters. The rest however was a pari of downward solar panels that looked like the wings of a bat. TIE Vampires were one of the latest achievements in ESS and Corellian Fighter technology.

Speeding up the Vampires tore through the first wave of defending fighters with lasers and missiles blazing. Soon the path was relatively clear for the heavy Reapers as they began their first attack run on the Dreadnaughts

--------------

Changing the channel she went on a secure frequency. "Black Scorpion, what's your status?"
"Bored, Command!" The calm voice of Majro Qhalic replied. "Requesting permission to launch."
"Negative for now, Black Scorpion," Sara ordered with a wry smile. "But keep your engines running."
"Copy that, command. I'll be ready."

No matter how many times he had done it, Pitto always found he was never quite prepared on entering a combat zone. A swift barrage of orders directed at various crew members was the only way he could rectify the situation.
"Starfighter command, launch alpha, beta, delta, gamma and kappa squadrons. Instruct them to maintain a defensive pattern around the cruisers, with beta squadron protecting the cargo vessels. They are not to engage unless provoked, we are not losing any more lives unnecessarily! Comm, copy this to the Rebellion and that Dreadnaught force: The Empire is now returning order to this system, you may abandon your vessels, and command crew of course, and flee, or be destroyed. The choice is yours. Subjugator out."
No sooner had the orders been given than the situation changed markedly. Pitto stood agape at the viewport as two glaring beams fired off either side of the larger crusier, obliterating the nearest Dreadnaught. Pitto could do nothing but chuckle to himself, it seemed he had chosen his 'allies' wisely!
"Comm, hail contact uniform-3, tell them we accept their generous offer. Then contact uniform-1 and request alliance, at least for the moment." Pitto stared again at the expanding debris field, and found himself open-mouthed yet again as the vessel repeated its previous attack, this time on the battlecruiser. The ominous, sword-like black starship was momentarily sheathed in an orange glow as the shield absorbed the blast. "Lieutenant Bayn," he turned to the sensor officer, a slight smirk on his face once again, "reccommend target strength priorities be reassigned, it seems numbers aren't quite what they once were. Commander Staben," this was directed at the starfighter co-ordinater, "what's our complement of ion pulse warheads?"
"Precisely 100 sir." the reply came a moment later.
"Have Shade flight launch, dock here and load up on the ion pulses, 30 per fighter. Have the remaining 10 distributed as evenly as possible among Spectre flight, and have both flights ready on standby."
"Plan sir?" Captain Harkner asked, a knowing look indicating he had soom inkling. Before Pitto could reply, he was interrupted by Lieutenant Bayn.
"Sir, Unknown battlecruiser just powered up a gravity well generator." Pitto only smiled. Elegant, imposingly large, heavily armed and equipped with a gravity well generator. The worth if his prize had just doubled.
"Understood," he said before turning back to his first officer, "Heavy ion bombardment should paralyse that battlecruiser for a few moments, enough time to land a boarding party. They do some damage, the fleet moves in close and sends through a force large enough to take the cruiser. I don't want to move the fleet any closer until its guns are disabled, after that those dreadnaughts will be easy pickings. We'll commence the bombardment as soon as we have some assurances that we're not alone"
"With all due respect sir, how is one boarding party going to be able to cripple a vessel that size."
This time the smile on Pitto's face was a definite grin,
"You haven't met the man who's going to lead the assault."

From the looks of things, the Hunter was not going to last very long. Dominance had managed to cripple its shields, and the Imperials were bombarding it heavily with ion cannon fire. It lashed out in return, sweeping turbolasers over the incoming star destroyers, managing to collapse the shields of one of the smaller vessels. Something was still wrong. Something about Hunter. Janson called up Fleet Intelligence reports for it. Scanning quickly, one line caught his eye. With gravity well generators added, Hunter has been seen on four occasions as the vanguard for Stumbos squadrons, utilizing the Thrawn Pincer.

Within minutes, the Hunter was deprived of both shields and escorting dreadnaughts. But instead of retreating, it held position and began to sweep its gravity wells in very specific directions. "Dominance, get clear. They're going to drop something in on top of you!"
"We're already committed. We can handle ourselves."
Flickering light heralded the arrival of a flotilla of destroyers and light cruisers. Primarily Allegiance and Tector class, with a handful of smaller ships mixed in. Their concentrated fire rocked the ESS flagship momentarily before the charging cannons flickered out and the shields strengthened.

"How charged are the cannons?"
"612 Sir."
"All hands, make ready for subspace transition."

Designed to operate based on gravitic principles, the subspace drive was not affected by gravity wells the way hyperdrives were. It merely limited its range. In these circumstances, that was not a problem. A bright blue window opened and the Trinity slid into it. Almost instantaneously, a matching window formed behind a pair of newly arrived light cruisers, and Janson's flagship returned to normal space. Hangar doors opened, and Alpha Wing launched, made up of assault fighters and superheavy bombers. Topside flak guns began to pick off fighters as point defense beam cannons vaporized a swarm of heavy rockets aimed at the ESS battlecruiser. Finally, the four heavy beam arrays began to glow green with charging energy. Power reserves carefully built up added their intensity to the glow. The first two fired, sweeping quickly across a Stumbos Tector and Allegience. The lance lit up the shields of the enemy ships, which collapsed with a flash, overloaded by the immense energies. The second pair of beams followed, stabbing at the now unshielded flanks. These beams focused their assault, drilling a great hole into each ship. The Tector fared better, with the shot coring through its flank and out through a rear engine, throwing it into a spin before it shut down. The Allegience was not so lucky. The beam burrowed into the core of the ship and glanced along the reactor, igniting the fuel stores. Swelling explosions tore the rear of the ship apart, strewing debris all throughout surrounding space.

Despite the rapid success of the manuever, the Trinity was still not in a good position. Two ships were out of action, but the enemy had plenty more now.

"Shields down to 90!"
Ok, this was where the fun ended.
"Alright, we understood that message." Sara noted. "Concentrate Dhilani arrays on those Tector class ships - maximum two at a time, focus DIP fire on the smaller ships." She took another look at the sensor screen. "Inferno, dive left and engage that duo of light cruisers. Show them what's it about your name!"
"We're on them, Dominance. Giving hell now."

The next moment ICR Inferno seemed to explode into a burst of energy, as her countless heavily DIP turrets dropped a firestorm of energy on the two unlucky light cruisers which were slowly torn apart.

Meanwhile the Dominance's Dhilani cannons, which before had delivered the deadly omega blasts, were now firing independantly from each other hammering hard on the two Allegiance class' shields.

"Hail that imperial force which contacted us. Tell them we accept the alliance!"
Meanwhile she keyed in her own commands. "Trinity, how's your status?"

"We're fine so far, but don't celebrate yet, the Stumbos are pretty resourceful."
"You wouldn't know." Sara gave back dryly instantly followed by another curse for having given away more hints to future events. If only the Warrior were here, too. It wassn't that the Dominance couldn't handle this - the ship was powerful enough to hold it against such a flotilla, yet the presence of the legendary Supreme Battlecruiser always had something calming to it. Maybe it also was the man commanding it.

Flax: Command, this is Red Leader, things are hotting up fast. Looks like we're right in the middle of a very large hornets' nest. The unknowns appear to be supporting the Correllians and the Stumbos ships just brought friends.

Command: Hang in there Paladins, Third Fleet is just two minutes out.

*Two Minutes Later The Alliance ships jump in and make a bee-line for the Imperials.*

-----------------------
MC-85a Inpedendance
Paladin Wing
MC-80 Definace
X-W, A-W & Y-W squadrons
MC-40 Mon Evara
X-W
DREAD Defender
Y-W
DREAD Shield
Y-W
FRG Steadfast
A-W
FRG Stayer
A-W
A/FRG Warrior
A/FRG Swordsman
A/FRG Oathman
G/SHP Group Ripper (12)
G/SHP Group Stoner (12)

*As soon as they revert the the larger ships beggin deploying fighters. Meanwhile Stoner group fall back cover the station as the rest of the half-fleet form a fighting cresent with the Mon-Cals in the centre.*

The ion pulse warheads had done their job well, waves of blue electricity washed over the immense battlecruiser. So far the elite pilots had not suffered a loss, but enemy escorts were closing fast. A final run by the missile boats saw the engines dim, and running lights across the ship went dark.
But a ship that size would not be out of action long, they would reset the reactor, or switch to backup, and a few burned out cables made little difference to the great mass of internal systems posessed by the vessel. Yet the aim had not been to cripple the Hunter, not immediately at least. The opening was now in place, but still Pitto was not entirely happy.
"Recall Spectre and Shade flights," he said to Commander Staben, before turning once more to Harkner, "well we have our window, but this is far from over. The insertion will be the most difficult part of the operation, I just don't think the Assault Transports will be able to cut it."
"But we have nothing else, those ATR's are the toughest transports in the task force."
"This won't be about toughness, not sheer brute toughness anyway, rather what we need is manouevrability, I wonder.." Pitto trailed off.
"Sir?" Harkner inquired.
"We've already seen that both our 'allies' have very different technologies to us, maybe there's something there we can use, hail the two allied fleets," there was a brief pause as the comm unit activated, "to all friendly or neutral vessels, the Empire requests a temporary loan of a fast, manouevrable transport vessel capable of allowing an eight-strong team of commandos to board the Hunter. Subjugator out." With that task done, Pitto returned to Captain Harkner. "I want a report on the Plague's status."

"Black Scorpion, come in" Mryna rose a brow. That tone of Admiral Phaley was a different one than during the last three hailings.
"This is Black Scorpion, copy. Nothing changed here."
"Well, it has here." Phaley said. "We have a job for you."
"We?" Mryna frowned. It was not like Admiral Phaley to share her command.
"Detail"
"An imperial strike team intends to take over controll of that Vengeance-class while its systems are weakened."
Mryna made a face. Did they want her to play taxi for a bunch of marines from a faction they had never met?
"Do you think that's wise? WIth all that time distortion we created already?"
"We've gone so far already. There's no turning back now."
"If you say so..." Mryna snorted.
"I do say so." Phaley replied in an unmistakable tone. "Your ship is by far the fastest and most powerful of its class that's ever been built. And you're the ideal pilot for this task.
"Flattering!" Mryna mocked. "I still don't like it. But alright. What am I to do?"
"Launch to space and report to the ISD-II Subjugator."
At least this gets me into space - better than to sit around on that landing deck for another 2 hours.
"Copy that Command. Launching now."
A slight touch to one of her control displays lifted the Black Scorpion of the hangar deck as light as one could imagine. sliding her fingers along a glowing line on another display brought the six engines to maximum throttle and the Black Scorpion shot out of the spacy bay screaming like a furious Mitharyan Dragon.
Blazing through the chaos of dogfights all around her she set her rear turret to auto defense mode and keyed in the comm channel to the distand imperial fleet.
"ISD-II Subjugator, this is ESS Combat Yacht Black Scorpion on approach Vector Sigma 925. Prepare for my arrival."

*On the bridge of the Independance Admiral Thran stood with his hands clasped behind his back.*

Tac Ops: Sir, Our second Battle Group will be jumping in in another ten minutes. *Tac Ops paused, listening to his earpeace.* Sir, the Empire has just requested that one of the neautral vessals provide a fast attack boat to ferry their marines to the Hunter

Thran: Communications, give me open channel.

Com: Ready Sir.

Thran: All vessals, be advised that any help rendered to the Empire will be considered an Act of War against the ARR. Any such acts will result in your vessals being deemed hostile.

*Meanwhile Taklin Flax was leading his X-Wings and Gold and Green's Y-Wings on a torpedo strike against the Subjegator*

Flax: Okay, you know the drill, make them count people, we don't have any reloads.

*At the last moment the wing peeled off will Reds one and two streeked ahead, dumpfireing two double salvo's each into the ISD's shield generators before feeling off and hurtling away, shields full rear.*

Pitto glared at the retreating drive tails, the rebel fighters and their torpedoes may have been as insects to the Subjugator's kath hound, but in great enough numbers, insects could cause serious injury. Though the torpedo strike had not penetrated the hull, the shields were down to 30%, and Pitto had no wish to take power from any other system to restore them. It gave him no small satisfaction to watch as a pair of Y-Wings, already damaged in their attack and lagging behind the main group, were vapourised almost simultaneously by concentrated firepower from the forward battery. Though rebels were, as a rule, almost always short on warhead supplies, Pitto could not take the chance that there would be another run.
"Recall Spectre flight and have them engage the Y-Wings, tell them to avoid the X-Wings until they've done as much damage to Y-Wings as possible, we don't want to lose any of those Defenders! As for the X-Wings, we'll use numbers. Deploy all remaining fighters and have them engage the X-Wings, conservatively, we want to minimise losses. Keep the bomber groups and Beta squadron protecting the capital ships. Wait, no, belay the last part of that order. Have all the other fighters maintain the defensive pattern, and launch all three Assault Transports. Have them hold station just forward of the fleet and engage anything that comes close. Oh, and have Omicron squad report to the hangar bay, their transport is on the way."
"Sir, report from the Plague, their shields are out, and the port batteries are damaged."
"Very well, send Plague into a rearguard position, make sure none of our ships go within range of that battlecruiser, not until we have its weapon systems disabled." Pitto opened the internal comm channel, "all stormtroopers, prepare for ship-to-ship boarding." the Vice-Admiral than strode briskly over to his XO, and spoke in a hushed voice. "I want you to take a shuttle, and go to each ship in turn. I know it could be dangerous, and its not the fastest means of communication but it is the most secure. Inform all commands that they are to be ready to engage the nearest destroyer-type vessel as soon as we have the battlecruiser secure. Tell them to do as much damage as possible before entering hyperspace, but that destruction is not necesary, I am merely sending a message, and above all else keep this quiet!"
Harkner was worried, but his professionalism did not allow this to show on his face,
"As you wish sir, I will make ready, but I have to say I'm concerned over this course of action, like it or not the Empire needs allies."
"Alright, I'll make the final decision when the time comes, slap a zulu code on the orders. Codeword will be... Janus, I think"
"Yes sir" Harkner gave a curt nod, and jogged towards the turbolift.
"Sir, rebel vessels just declared any forces helping us to be their enemies, I'd say they just made the situation harder for themselves"
"Lieutenant when I want your tactical commentary I'll ask for it!" Pitto rebuked, but mildly, the young officer was right.
Pitto turned once again towards the viewport, the distant rebel fleet was impressive, but they were now just a minor obstacle. Smiling, Pitto began to think of possible names for his new flagship.

"... We've sent a...special forces shuttle to assist the Imperials in boarding the Hunter." The ESS commander's voice broke into static at the end of her update."

"What, are they crazy? What do they plan to take it with, optimism?" Janson frowned. A handful of shuttles worth of troops against one of the better ships in DeGaulle's armada. If this was the quality of Imperial commanders these days, it was a good thing Corellia went independent a few years ago.

"They seem to have a plan. Speaking of which, we could use your ships to hold the right flank."

Having asserted her higher rank, the commander was now rather uppity, in Wes's opinion. She may have the biggest ship, and be from 10 years in the future, but Janson knew the Stumbos. Knowing that they would meet again in the future, he resolved to bring this up again sometime.

"Negative, Dominance. They are setting up a Marik Envelopment. The smaller ships around Hunter are manuevering to push on the Right flank, so we divert over there, so a second wave of ships can drop in on the left and below. If we park just off your port side, we can hit them before they fully revert." He cut the comm before she could reply. "All guns, hold fire and crash charge beam turrets. Engines to station keeping. Prepare to fire upon enemy ships decanting from hyperspace at the edge of the interdiction field."

A flicker of pseudomotion confirmed Janson's suspicions. A pair of large ships reverted opposite the enemy push, hoping to hit a weak flank. Instead the Trinity washed the nearer ship, a Praetor-class cruiser, in bright lances of green fire. Two beams raked the hull, bubbling hull plating and melting turbolasers in their wake. The other two lances struck the command tower and superstructure. Unshielded momentarily upon arrival, the ship was decapitated, the bridge tower a glowing wreck. This ship's fate saved the other new arrival, absorbing the fire headed for the Procurator-class battlecruiser behind it. For the moment, the hulk blocked fire between the Corellian vessel and the Stumbos reinforcements. Whirlwind and Randall group unfortunately chose that moment to move in and harass the new battlecruiser, Predator Denied of their primary targets, the Corellian and ESS flagships, Predator instead lashed out at the smaller ships. Two of the three Carracks were hit with enough energy to obliterate them entirely, while the third took a glancing blow and spun out, venting atmosphere. The Whirlwind fared better, Deimos-class having been designed to fight larger ships without the benefit of shields. The Corellian versions included them, making the mid sized ships among the most survivable vessels in the fleet. She absorbed the fire, taking hits that merely burned into the outer layer of armor after the shields collapsed.

-------------------

Sparks trailed across the shields as a Rebel A-Wing glanced a laser off of Alysonn's TIE. "As soon as I can see again, you're dead, slim!" she shouted in annoyance. But by the time the shields cleared, it was gone. The speedy little fighters were concentrating on her flight, as they were fast enough to keep up with her. Already she had lost Three, though the A-Wings had seen five of their number go down. Numbers were beginning to turn the tide, unfortunately. Instead of dogfighting, they liked to use this new tactic of making a fast run, while a second glanced lasers off her shields, fouling both her vision and sensors. The attackers could then run and hide, waiting to try again. It was bad enough already, with capital ships and fighters pumping the space full of ECM and ECCM. Suddenly bolts flew past the viewport. She juked, and saw the annoying gnat swoop past. linking her guns, a ring of cannon fire tore through its rear, detonating an engine. The tiny fighter disintegrated. Satisfied, she turned to bring her flight back towards the rest of the Corellian fighter cover.

*Suddenly another Alliance Battlegroup dropped out of hyperspace on the Imperial's right flank.*

-------------------------

MC 80 Renegade
X-W Grey, Y-W, A-W

VSD Guardian
X-W High Flight, Y-W Sand Panther

MC 40 Mon Ellesara

DREAD Dragon

GSP Sythe (12)

------------------------------

Indepencance

*Bridge*

Sensors: Sir, our second group just jumped in.

Thran: Order the Guardian to target the Plague

Tac-OPs: Aye Sir, *Tac-Ops grinned as he spun back to his console.* Guardian Target the Plague and have your fighter concentrate on the Subjugator

Space

*Flax cursed, he had no wish to attack the Correlians but some of the TIEs had started tangling with his A-Wings and he was nearly a half-Squad down.*

Flax: High Flight Leader, this is Red Leader. You and Grey group cover Gold and Green. We're going after those Correlian Interceptors.

*Red Flight One broke off from the rest of the Squadron and headed towards Killimar flight. Flax set Chip to scanning until he picked up the Correllian frequency.*

Flax: Hay! Bucket Head, some things never change. Just because you've got nice new Correlian paint jobs doesn't stop you from nailing neutral Alliance fighters, right? Well lets see if you're ready to play tag with the big boys.

*Flax switched over to topeedo's and brought the lead fighter under his sights.*

Sara made the face. That was the Janson she recalled. Too bad he'd one time outrank her in the future, otherwise she might give him a scolding. Yet, there were more pressing issues to attend.
"Send a broadcast message to those Alliance ships. This is not their battle, they should just leave."
On the starboard side, Inferno was taking a heavy pounding from one of the two remaining Allegiance-class vessels.
"Tell Inferno to retreat below us. Once the path is clear, lock our starboard omega arrays on that Allegiance's bridge."
To their left, the dead Praetor-class was slowly drifting by, eventually revealing the still operational Procurator. The heavy cruiser was about half the size of the Dominance. By the looks it had be ancient, though having been added with lots of modifications and upgrades.
"Lock our port omega arrays on that Procurator. All other primary batteries keep targeting the other ships." Openning a comm channel she continued.
"Inferno, launch your VF2 squads to cover your retreat and then create a screen to hold of any bombers."
"Copy that, Dominance. Launching fighter screen."
The artillery chief gave her a nod. "Inferno's clar. Omega-targets aquired."
"Fire!" Sara ordered calmly. For now they still had the upper hand. Next four crimsond blasts tore through space and hit the assigned targets on both sides. Battle-worn the Allegiance's shields didn't hold for long and the second hit broke through ripping a large chunk out of the cruiser's command tower. That blow didn't kill the ship but it left it without shields and vulnerable for the Dominance's starboard batteries.
On their port side, the Procurator's shields had withstood the blasts, but had dropped to 20%. The Praetor was still floating in space blocking the Trident's fire vector towards the Procurator. Keying in some commands a part of the Dominance's port batteries started pounding onto the wrecked ship. As she had hoped the impacts were strong enough to slowly force the ship to drift sideways clearing the field for the Corellian ships.
"Whirlwind and Trident, if you want to take down that Procurator, here's your chance. "

----

[10 years in the future]
A small transport blazed out of hyperspace taking course towards New Cophuran. Aboard an overly excited Lieutenant of a CE/ESS special task force. Three days ago, ESS cruisers Dominance and Inferno had gone missing - just like it had been forecasted. Apart from Supreme Command and the two empires' governments there were only few who knew about this. Not even Admiral Phaley herself had been informed.

The job of this task froce had been finding clues on how this temporal distortion had occurred and how the missing ships could be recovered. Now it looked as though they had had their first success.

"Hail New Traquia, Code Delta-42-Blue." The Lieutenant ordered the pilot. "Tell them we were successful."

--

Vince shook his head in mild astonishment. "So you were right all the time."
Wes Janson shrugged, as they strolled along the wide balcony on level 520 of New Traquia Palace. Wes had arrived 4 days ago, to whitness the event that had thrown ESS Dominance back in time.
"So, are we able to establish a stable connection yet?" Vince asked.
"The scientists are close to a break through." Wes explained. "They had some successful tests so far, but none of them was stable enough to ensure a safe passage of a starship like the Dominance."
"I see." Vince said.
"I always wondered..." Wes started after a while "why didn't you inform Admiral Phaley of all this?"
"Phaley is a good leader, but she can be very over-self-confident, when outranking somebody she's in dispute with. Back then she would've driven you mad."
Wes made a face, seeming to recall something. "Point taken." He then said with a smirk.

The smile on Pitto's face was well and truly gone, replaced instead by a cold anger.
"How the hell did the rebel's manage to get so many ships into this area undetected?" He asked no one in particular, "Isard will be hearing about this, her screw up's put me in the firing line." He said to General Batorx, who had taken Harkner's place as the mirror against which Pitto was bouncing his ideas.
"Sir, Plague reports it is under fire, and taking damage." The Comm officer interjected.
"What?" Pitto replied in disbelief, "from the rebels? But we moved it into rearguard position, the Persecutor should be covering it."
"Not fast enough sir, Plague had sustained engine damage and was still on the flank when the second set of rebels dropped in. Persecutor is moving in now, but even if she survives, she's not going to be out of commission for some ti-" A shout from Lieutenant Bayn cut the officer off,
"We have starfighters inbound."
Pitto cursed, in seconds the rebels had cut off his allies and were beginning to severely hamper his efforts, even the Empire's usual numerical advantage was non-existant, thanks to his understocked hangar bays.
"New contact: six unidentified ships, starfighter size by the looks of things, no more available information at this time."
Pitto acknowledged the remark with a nod, but chose to ignore it. Six starfighters would make no difference to this battle, and without any knowledge of intent, he could do nothing.
"Have the ATRs and TIE Fighters intercept the incoming starfighters, and tell engineering to get as much power to shields as they can manage. We're going to have to strike them where it hurts, their main command may be out of range, but we can cripple that new group. Have all TIE Bomber and Missile Boat squadrons target that Mon Cal cruiser, and have the Repressor move in to support them, as well as all non-committed starfighters."
"Sir, that transport is here."
"Excellent, if we can keep our fleet protected for the time being, we may just make it out of this one."

The Hangar was cold and empty, devoid of even the casual activity one expected there during the normal operations of the massive ship conveying them. The matte black armour worn by each of the nine men before their commander was insulated, as was his own, and the lack of activity did not bother them. In their hearts, the men were all ground-pounders, with little love for the flyboys currently fighting and dying in the blackness outside.
Lieutenant Gyttel silently snapped a fresh clip into his E-15 blaster rifle and made a final adjustment to the scope. Beyond the magcon field, a ghostly black ship rose silently from the void below. The sleek vessel crossed the field, and a muffled whine was instantly audible. The ship didn't even bother landing, it merely drifted down low and dropped its boarding ramp. Gyttel stared at the ship in disbelief, how the hell was he meant to cram his 10-strong squad into a ship that small. The pilot seemed cocky and arrogant, the worst sort of flyboy in Gyttel's mind. As the squad wordlessly squeezed their way into the confined passenger space, Gyttel made a mental note to turn his holocam on for this one; if he survived, it was going to make for some incredible viewing later.

Independance

Commincations: "Sir we've just recieved a broadcast from the unknowns think this isn't our battle and we should leave."

Thran cursed. "Open a channel to their Command Ship."

"Done, Sir."

Thran turned his command chair into the holo-field, he composed himself and activated the cammeras.

"This is Rear Admiral Thran of the Alliance' Second Fleet to the Commander of the Dominance, whom am I addressing?"

Mryna waited a few seconds until the last of the ten commandos had hopped aboard. She had no intention to stay on this ship longer than necessary. The same would go for the battlecruiser which was their next destination.

Softly pushing her controls to the left she turned the Scorpion around to face the wide opening gasping before her. a swift move kicked the throttle lever to maximum and with only an aggressive howl the Black Scorpion dashed out of the hangar bay. She smiled as she observed the passenger space screen. The sudden acceleration had taken two of the commandos off guard and had swept them off their feet.

In a wide arc the Scorpion solved from the star destroyer and headed towards the massive battlecruiser in the far distance. The ESS and Corellian ships were in mortal combat with seemingly endles waves of stumbos ships. Again and again the crimson blasts of the Dominance's omega arrays roared through space hammered onto the Stumbos' major ship while the heavy DIP batteries tore through some smaller ships that got too close.

So far they stood their ground well - after all a good performance test for the Dominance.

Behind her she heard the his of the cockpit's hatch. "Didn't they teach you safe flying in public at the academy, flyboy?" A male voice said behind her. The sound was distorted by a voice scrambler, but still she could interpret this man as being annoyed. Flyboy, Mryna had to suppress a chuckle and instead put on her best stone face while crossing her legs and turning her pilot seat around.

The man was clad in all black armor, his blaster rifle readied. Commandos! she mused. Professionals. The galaxy's probably most un-natural beings - only their physical existence as human beings distinguished them from being robots.

"And with whom do I have the pleasure?"

"Special ... Lieutenant Gyttel of the Imperial Special Commandos." The man said in a mixture of monotony, annoyance and surprise. It was obvious he had expected a young hotshot pilot - and probably a male one.

"Charming" Mryna said emotionless. "Now you see, Lieutenant, this is no sight seeing tour or anything. My job is to take you to that battlecruiser ASAP. If you have a problem with my flying style it is yours alone. Feel free to place a complaint against me at ESS high commnad, if it makes you feel better."

The man remained silent. Mryna wondered, if it was the shock over her dismissing his bold approach or the sight of a trio of TIE Interceptors they had just outstripped.

A chime from her console caught back her attention. They were approaching the battlecruiser, time to go stelath. Flipping a switch to her left she activated the Black Scorpion's cloaking device and the cockpit was dimmed into a ghostly blue light.

"We'll be arriving at our destination in 2 minutes" she marked. "You better fasten your seatbelt and get your squad ready for combat." After a pause she added. "You're dismissed, Lieutenant."

Behind the helmet, Gyttel gritted his teeth and scowled as he focused on keeping his fist at his side. In times past, such arrogance and disrespect to even the rank and file troops would have warranted immediate detention, if not execution. Gyttel took a deep breath and forced himself to look at the situation rationally. Here was someone he had never met before, under a faction his was barely neutral with, risking her life on what must seem a suicide mission for next to no return for herself, not to mention that if he did blast her, there would be no one to fly the ship. Furthermore, Gyttel found he rather liked her fiery independence and simple abrubtness, it was a trait present in many of the men under his command.
As they drew nearer the colossal vessel, Gyttel began to feel a slight churning in the pit of his stomach, the sheer size of the cruiser was enough to send a shiver down the spine of the most immovable commanders.
"I don't know what you have planned for the entry," he said to the pilot's back, leaving his voice devoid of as much emotion as possible, "but the closer you can get us to the bridge the better."

From the bridge of the Subjugator, Pitto could see that the battle, or his side of it at least, was rapidly becoming like a set of extremely precariously balanced scales. Both sides were becoming cautious, unwilling to overcommit without knowing more of the enemy's intentions. It was rapidly degrading into a war of attrition, and Pitto simply did not have the resources to last much longer.
For the moment however, he was relatively secure in his position, and had not sustained too heavy losses, but time was running out.

*On board the Imdependance' Brindge Admiral Thran surveyed the mess that was the melee developing in space around him.*

Thran: Helm, ahead Flank, prepare to turn broadside on to the Subujator.

*The Alliance' cresent formation bulged outward, becoming a fighting dagger with the Independance and the other heavy crusiers at the point.*

*Meanwhile the Guardian fired another full load intothe striken Plague at a wing of Y-Wing Bombers delivered a torpedo strike to her upper port flank.*

*Taklin Flax' X-Wing bore down on Killimar one.*

The scanners were filled with static, from the many ECM jammers. Without one of the more specialized ECM ships in the fleet, there was no way to reliably break through the static. The burning debris of the Praetor wasn't helping much, either. Behind the hulk, the Procurator was rising to bring the Trinity into it's firing arcs. Whirlwind was trading fire with the much larger ship as it dropped back, trying to get clear. The one thing Janson could see was the small black shape streaking towards the command tower of the Hunter, with it's crew of lunitic pilots and commandos. "When is Night Raven scheduled to arrive?" he asked, hoping for a favorable answer.

"It's not. Looks like it was diverted," was not what he wanted to hear.

"Why? Command better have a good reason."

"Sir...it's Denon. The Stumbos hit it while most of the fleet was tied up on the border. The Angmar appeared in orbit and started pounding the surface until the Night Raven showed up and chased it off. She's in pursuit now."

"How...how many casualties?"

"No one knows yet. Initial reports are high, maybe even 10% of the population."

"A tenth of the population of Denon. Kriff." Janson gritted his teeth. Denon was one of the most densely populated city-planets in the Empire. "I assume that now the council will stop dragging it's feet on shipyard funding." A flare of light from a turbolaser bolt splintering aross the bridge shields brought the bridge crew back to the battle at hand. The ship, now finally tagged as the Rend had cleared the wreckage. "Reinforce forward shields, fire at will."

------

Alysonn juked to starboard as another set of red bolts blazed past her lower wing. The green "You're being shot at" light blazed incessantly. Whoever was on her tail was good. Very good. She was now the only remaining pilot of Killimar Flight, thanks to the Rebel now on her tail. But she had a few tricks up her sleeve yet. Switching on the countermeasures board, she released a burst of chaff, and then a pair of flares. The micro missiles headed for the nearest sensor array tracking her, which happened to be the ace on her tail. Momentarily blinded by the cloud of metallic particles, the twin flares smacked into the forward shields of the pursuing fighter and exploded, throwing the craft into a wobble. Taking the opportunity, Hann diverted laser power to shields to shore them up, and then shifted the recharge rate into the engines, letting her finally outstrip the Rebel. It had been a close battle, and she had a chunk missing from her topside pylon to prove it. She was going to have to return to the Trinity and swap out fighters. This one was no longer combat worthy.

"Grife! Admiral, the first heavy Mon Cal cruiser is positioning itself for broadide attack." Lieutenant Bayn shouted from the sensor station. Pitto opened his mouth to bark an order, but was interrupted by his comms officer.
"Sir, Plague reports they have taken crippling structural damage and are abandoning ship, Repressor is launching SAR ships now."
Pitto winced and rubbed his eyes tiredly,
"Listen up everyone," he said, addressing the bridge crew, "With those grav generators still active, we have no option of retreat, but our odds for success are rapidly slimming. I know the level of experience amongst the members of our task group leaves something to be desired, but you have all fought like hardened veterans and I can say with all honesty, I'm proud your my crew. All I ask now, is that you show the same courage, determination and devotion that you have already demonstrated so well today, and see this thing through to the end, whatever that may be. And if we are to die here, we will do it with honour, and be remembered for the duration of our great Empire as heroes. But let's not get pessimistic, we can still win this." Pitto activated the ship's broadcast system, "All damage control and medical teams, report to assigned stations and stand by. Stormtrooper garrison, be prepared to offer any assitance to these teams. Gun batteries, return fire only after the first salvo, focus your fire as best as possible on the bridge and cannons. Pitto out."
As the first salvo hit, looking to Pitto like the fiery eruption of a volcano, the Subjugator rocked and the distant echo of alarms throughout damaged areas of the ship rang in Pitto's ears. No sooner had the ship righted itself relative to the artificial 'battle horizon', dipping the bow slightly to allow her heavy turbolasers to bear on the side on warship several kilometers in front of them, the sixteen quad-turbolasers on either side of the massive starships dorsal 'terrace' opened up in a hail of green plasma. In seconds they struck their target, briefly lighting up the shield like a plasma-ball. In a few places, the bolts even breached the shields, scoring scant hits on the hull itself.
"Report!" Barked Pitto, rubbing his arm where a small section of destroyed console had hit it.
"Shields out, backups online and taking power from all lighter weapons, including ion cannons. 80%."
"Three hull breaches on dorsal surface. No critical damage, seven injured, up to fifteen possibly dead."
"Mon Cal's main shield briefly taken out, though redundancy systems mean they are still at roughly 75%, minor hull damage."
"Persecutor is moving in to support, though they pretty much have their hands full."
The brief reports flying at him from all directions, Pitto turned to the viewport, still nursing his left arm and trying to process the huge amount of information he was receiving, but one thought occupying his mind: where the hell were those flaming commandos?

Behind the Mon Cals several Alliance Assault Frigate Mk IIs arrive at the battle.