Planetary takeover of: Donovia, Aquaris, Obroa-skai, Ploo II & IV.

Takes place after Ascendancy.


Engineroom of the Nova-Class Cruiser, HMS Omdal.



"Ahh fuck!"

Sparks of orange and blue flew as Dietrich pulled his hand back.

"Goddamn motivator..."

A sequince of beeps forced him to move aside as the R2 unit's moved to rectify the problem. A few more squeaks and the sparks stopped.

"Yeah, nice going, if only that fucking yutz Noldar hadn't gone and gotten himself arrested at that Vinda Corp whore house, and i wouldn't be the one dealing with this."

'This', was the main hyperspace engine of the Omdal, which had suffered a powersurge while in transit, forcing the ship to drop from hyperspace and its mission, escorting the Chume'Dai back from its whistlestop tour of the Commonwealth.

"Mutherfucking awol-going wanker..."

It wasn't so much that Dietrich was angry about his boss getting arrested meant he had to do all the work, moreso that Noldar was supposed to have taken him to that whorehouse with him. His rant was cut short by more beeps, this time coming from the comstation to his right.

"Corporal Dietrich, report."

The voice was young, but with an authority that bespoke of its position.

"Ay Captain, its pretty beat up, might be a few hours." Dietrich cursed again silently, sucking on one of his burnt fingers.

"Don't let me hold you up Corporal, we're in unregulated space..."

The comm was cut and Dietrich was once again alone in his cursings.



Bridge of the Omdal.



Unregulated space indeed.

Captain Karl Franz scratched his hands across his cheeks as he mused, happily feeling the light stubble that had developed. It had been a day since the battlegroup had left the Corporate Sector, two since they had been forced to meet dignitaries, and so Franz had allowed himself the luxury of letting himself go slightly.

God i hate shaving...

He mused again on his semi-decadance, before rallying himself to process the information from the engine room.

"Launch a squadron in patrol formation, combat pairs. We've got a few hours before repairs will be completed, especially considering the low levels of crew we had for the trip. We need to settle in for a while...

Scanners, whats the word?"

His relatively colloquial turns of phrase had endeared him to his crew, but such actions had to be expected considering the age of the entire fleet. Ninety percent of the Hapes warfleet had been lost at Ossus fighting Thrawn, almost a decade had passed, and only now was the fleet able to fully staff itself with competant officers. Verbal indiscretions of Franz's nature were hardly a worry.

The scan team took a moment to reply as they consulted their moniters.

"Nothing sir, we're a dozen lightyears or so from the Perlemian, closest system is Donovia."

Franz continued scratching.

"Donovia... Any word on the political status of the space we're in?"

The crew shook their heads, which was both a good and bad sign. Royal Intelligence had long been focused on the 'powers' as it were, The Empire, Coalition, Black Dragons. If it wasn't in that section of influence, RI didn't know about it.

Unalligned meant relatively safe from any real threat, but also increased drastically the chances of a minor one.

"Right, rotate the squadrons in three hours if we're still here, otherwise notify me of any changes. I'll be in my cabin.

XO has the helm."

Franz nodded to his second before rising and moving from the bridge.




Perlemian Trade route, Foxtrot point, near Hapes space.



"Any word from the Omdal?"

"Negative sir, not since they reported hyperspace transition problems at point Echo."

Commodore Sparrow nodded, knowing full well Franz must have blown the engine trying to keep up.

"Launch a squadron of strike Avengers on skipper jumps back along our jump route. Captain Kewell?"

One of the two holo images in front of him inclined his head.

"Move back with the Avengers and offer any assistance possible. We shall remain on station here as necessary and will relay the situation to Command."

The head inclined again.

"Understood sir." The image disappeared.

"Schwartzer, take up a fighter patrol and settle in." Another incline, and the final image disappeared.

"Prepare a communique to NCHQ."



Donovia Orbit, Khalis Confederacy space.


General Ruudrig was a man on the warpath.

"How long has it been there?" he howled, his subordinates cringing collectively in fear.

There was near silence as none feared to say what they all knew, the only sound the forceful breaths of Ruudrig. Finally, one spoke up.

"We aren't sure, your excellency. It seems to be a Modified-Nebulon B Frigate, our scout didn't want to get close enough for a proper ID for fear of revealling itself. It seems to be stopped, perhaps making repairs?"

Flames still burnt in the generals eyes, but a cruel smile appeared on his lips.

"Excellent, this might well be a blessing. Have the fleet readied!"

The group all nodded rapidly as the General turned to leave.

"Should we notify the Lord Marshall?"

Ruudrig stopped immediately as silence fell once again, the rampaging 'bull like' breathing was back as he turned to face the aide who had mentioned his superiors name.

The aide cringed instantly as the General rose himself up to full height, his substantial gut rising with it, almost making his chest appear huge. Almost.

A savage fist lashed out and the man was down, blood streaming from his face.

"I AM YOUR COMMANDING OFFICER, YOU ANSWER TO ME!" he howled, this response indicative of his insecurity regarding the Lord Marshall.

With that Ruudrig stormed from the room, the other aides standing stock still until the General was well out of earshot before moving to help their fallen comrade.

"Frecking Nerf-turd bastard of a fucking ...." the harsh voice entered the quarters waking up Hassip from a rather erotic dream involving General Ruudrig's trophy wife and some Coruscant whiskey. And not the cheap heat-sink, lower-level crap either.

Hassip licked his lips as he woke wondering if it was the whiskey or the woman that caused the action with not a small bit of irritation at the interruption. "Dang it, Utter. Shut up! I was dreaming!" he complained and Utter waved his comment away.

It was then as the other's hand pulled away from his face that Hassip saw the bruise and blood from Utter's mouth.

"Great Khalis Whores! What happened to you?"

"I've been relieved," Utter muttered and began to tell the other of the discovery of the modified Nebulon B Frigate just hanging outside their ship's sensor network.

Not a hard feat but still.

"What do you think it is?" Hassip asked as the tale ended, grimacing at the lose of control of their glorious general.

"To far to tell the markings and IFF recognition. But Vaki over at the scanning station bet his lunch that there were fighters. Blips appearing and disappearing overhead.

"Could be simple space garbage." Hassip offered helpfully.

"True. But have you ever known a Modified Nebulon B not to have fighters?"

Hassip shrugged at that and acknowleged the point. "So...a Perlemian kingdom you think?"

If it was and if this was a prelude to encroachment then there might be war.

"It could be. But what if it's not?"

Utter's voice arrested Hassip's attention and his eyes narrowed. "Who else could it be?"

"The Galactic Coalition has been angling towards war with the Dragons. Perhaps it's..."

Hassip began to laugh. "The Galactic Coalition has nothing this far out except maybe fat traders. They have all their crap on the Empire's border. Or they would if they were smart."

"That's what I'm saying.." Hassip continued.

"No..no.. It doesn't compute. But what if it is a Commonwealth ship?" Utter asked.


Hassip stopped to think about that. There had been rumors of Vinda Corporation dissolving and the Corporate Sector coming under new authority but the amount of trading ships under the Vinda Corp seal had yet to diminish and there were more and more sightings of newer ships sporting a new logo of this mysterious Commonwealth.

But a Modified Nebulon was hardly the 'new' ships of this Commonwealth and he said so.

"Maybe so. But the General is acting without approval and we've not confirmed who the hell they are. What if they are the Empire?"

Utter's words erased any sleep from Hassip's eyes that may have been lingering.

"And the Marshall will have to support the General's actions lest we lose face and portray the Confederacy military command at odds and in disarray. Bantha shit!"

Hassip's exclamation was punctuated by the klaxon alarm that suddenly went off.

"We're in it now." Utter mumbled going to the refresher to put something on his bruise.

"Up to our necks.." Hassip agreed wishing he could go back to his dream.

Khalis Confederacy battlegroup, orbit above Donovia.



"Officer on deck!"

Ruudrig's emergance was greeted with by the crew standing to the deck. While he was feared by the collective force that was the Donovian military, the crew of his dreadnought were the exception, being highly selected for their loyalty first and foremost. Their pay was substantially higher than those in similiar positions outside the ship, ensuring that loyalty remained true, always.

Ruudrig threw an informal salute before settling his bullesque frame into the ships command chair, after which the rest of the crew resumed their stations.

"Is the fleet ready Captain?" he asked, looking to his right.

The ships 'official' commander stepped forward. His features belied his demeanour, weasely and untrustworthy, but Ruudrig knew so long as the cash continued flowing there was no need for worry on that part.

"Indeed General." His voice oozed the same as his looks. "We are simply awaiting your order and the fleet shall move out.

Should i be informing the Grand Marshall of our movement?"

Both Captain Farina and Ruudrig smirked at that.

"No, not until our mission is a success. A trophy like that Nebulon will see a promotion i'm sure, and i wonder who would take my place as the Donovian commander?"

The smirk grew on both their faces.

Ruudrig looked at the shimmering holodisplay headed of him revealing that the other Dreadnought and their Carrack had begun moving into position for their jump.

The General nodded to himself that all was prepared. The still remaining smirk grew to a voracious smile.

"Move to hyperspace."



Later, Bridge of the Omdal.



"Captain Franz?"

Karl snapped up quickly, startled from his snooze. It took him a moment to catch his bearings before pressing down on the comms.

"Yes Lieutenant?"

His XO was right to the point.

"Reports from the engineroom, it should be about another hour and we'll be ready to go. If we weren't short a man iy probably would have been done by now."

Franz nodded, his hand immediately going to his facial hair.

"Excellent, keep my informed."

"Ay sir."

Leaning back he shut his eyes and begun drifting back to sleep....



...And was immediately interupted as red sirens began flash and sirens blaring.

"Captain, scanners report incoming ships. Two Dreadnoughts and a Carrack Cruiser."

Franz was on his feet immediately and was out the door in a moment, comlink in hand.

"Launch our fighters, call the patrolling units back into defensive positions, run up to combat speed."

Karl was running now.



Bridge of the Invincible, Khalis Confederacy Command ship.



"Thats the damndest looking modified B i've ever seen..."

The words had come from Captain Farina. The General looked down at his holodisplay, showing the two dreads astride the lone carrack.

"Who cares!" howled Ruudrig "Ready the marines and launch fighters, full speed ahead!"


Bridge of the Donovia.



"Fucking Ruudrig."

The crew couldn't help but laugh at their Captains response to Ruudrigs broadcasting the 'charge'.

The Captain and XO looked at each other smiling.

"Trust the General to act like that."

A minute passed in silence as the crew continued their tasks, suddenly the scanner piped up.

"Captain, the 'Nebulon' is moving into full reverse thrust."

Captain Donovan looked at his holodisplay, watching that their Carrack had already begun pulling away from the pair of dreads.

"Still..." he looked to his XO, "Nothing we can do until dear general changes his battleplan. I know i don't want to be clapped in irons for deviating from his 'greatness'."

Lieutenant Kahn laughed, remembering when the entire crew had been put on 'prick leave' as Ruudrig had called it, for disobeying direct orders, the results of which would have their ship disabled and drifting towards a nearby sun.

Their eyes drifted back to the holodisplay and saw the two squadrons of TIEs advancing in front of their respective carriers. Moments later Donovans eyes drifted back towards the Carrack which was steadily pulling away from the rest of the fleet.



Bridge of the Omdal.



"Its working sir, we're drawing out their carrack. And its strange, their TIE Fighters haven't massed, each squadron is advancing up our flanks..."

Franz nodded, "Completely ineffectual. Bring our miy'tils together in a single unit, each pair flying in wingtips. Have the Hetrinars on each pairs tail and do a double tallon split."

It only took a moment for the orders to be relayed and the fighters to form up and zoom towards their opposition. The TIEs were outnumber 2 and a half to one, but their scanners showed rough parity with the Hapan fighters. Such was the Tallon Split.

Usually implemented to hid bombers on the igress towards enemy capital ships until the last minute, the Tallon Split used proximity to baffle the basic sensors tracking abilities. To the TIEs, what looked like a dozen odd fighters approaching was actually twice that many, and 6 hetrinar gunships coming in close rearward diamond formation behind a pair of Miy'Tils.

The maneuvre was dangerous, bit it was one Franz's men had been drilled in almost as much as their takeoffs. As the units were just outside the TIEs laser range the each Miy'til broke high and low respectively, allowing each Hetrinar clearance to launch a duet missiles.

Those few missiles that didn't destroy their targets massively disrupted the units formation. The remaining TIEs were easily picked off.

"Load torps, target that Carracks power generators. They have a systemic weak point there.

And send out a distress signel on the Commonwealth band for immediate assistance."

"Ay Captain."

Hapes: One of the numerous balls following the Hapes-Vinda Corporation Summit

"So... You're a starship commander?" asked the beautiful Hapen blond, standing across from Wilkar.

A smile came across Wilkar's face.

""Among other things," he answered, alluding to his past as a starship designer.

"That is quite an accomplishment for someone as young as you. I do have one question though."

"Ask away miss. By all means, ask away."

"Could I get a tour of your starship?"

In for the kill...

"Well... First I would like to take you out to dinner."

Beep... Beep... Beep... Wilkar's comlink always seemed to chime in at just the right moments.

"Excuse me."

Wilkar stepped away from the woman and activated his comlink.

"This had better be real frackin' good Rapier control."

"Vice-Admiral, we have received a distress call from a Hapan ship. They are under attack by an unknown force"

"Captain cancel all shore leaves, and ready the ship for light speed. I'll be there as quickly as possible."

Wilkar turned around to see the stunning Hapan woman still waiting for him to return.

Damn it, the gods must really hate me.

"Miss... I am very very sorry, but some of your country men are in a spot of trouble, and I have to leave you and go out and save them..."



Wilkar climbed the ramp of the shuttle that would return him and other members of his crew to their ship. He was met by Commander Littan, a squadron commander from his ship. His dress uniform was unbuttoned, and his pants appeared to be on backwards. He looked about as a happy to be leaving as Wilkar. Though, he still managed a salute.

"I wouldn't worry too much Commander. There will be other shore leaves, not to mention other women..."

Littan's pale cheeks and ears turned a bright shade of red. Wilkar patted the pilot on the shoulder as he strapped himself into a seat.

"I feel the same way.You have a beautiful girl in your hands and then... duty calls"

Littan cupped his head in his hands as the the shuttle's engines began to rumble.

By now streams of laserlight were arcing out between the two cruisers, a seemingly desultory amount in comparrison coming from the smaller ship due to its heavier but slower firing weapons. The bright cascades were brightened even more by the streams of Ion fire coming from the Omdal. Insects seemed to hary both craft at every firing as each factions fighters started swarming over each others ship.

But while the sheilded Miy'tils were taking hits and breaking off, the horribly obsolete TIEs were slowly being whitled down with every passing attack run. By now, of the unmolested squadron, only 7 remained.

But the battle was truly one sided on the capital front, as the dreadnoughts, still lumbering along behind in sad desperation, could only slowly cut down the distance till firing range. If they didn't hurry, their Carrack would be destroyed before that time.



Bridge of the Omdal.



"Hit! Our MOCS have been able to strike the generator section, scans indicate sheild levels are dropping to below 30%!"

The crew were cheered by that knowledge, but could not help but stare out ominously towards the two behemoths that were still to approach. Captain Franz moved quickly to assuage their fears.

"Have our fletchettes fire up and launch to either side of the carrack, towards the dreadnoughts. I want any warheads coming from them messed up."

It took only moments between the 'ay sir' and the sight of the small booster flares firing off from each side of the bridge. Immediately ECM chaff was apparent on the holodisplay.

"Have the Hetrinar's launching torpedos in 12 o'clock high and 6 o'clock low saturation attacks, keep hammering those generators!

And move the Miy'tils into their sqaudrons and begin hitting the carrack from all sides with their concussion missiles. I want to force them to spread their shield thin!"

Another chorus of 'ay sir' from the flight control officers and the orders were relayed.


Bridge of the Donovia.



"It's just getting peppered..."

The words came from Lieutenant Kahn. Both he and his CO couldn't help but be amazed at the coordination between the fighters, bombers and the ship itself. The Carrack seemed lost already, such was the deluge being poured upon it.

Donovan spoke up now.

"Definitely a 'big power' vessel, Hapan perhaps? It's certainly not a mod B..."

Kahn shook his head. "I know we've been warned about the Hapans, but we were also told they stayed within their cluster, never left it. Hell, the Imperial base at Tanaab was supposed to keep them locked out of moving anywhere near here..."

Captain Donovan mused, "True, but thats definitely not an Imperial ship... At least that much we do know."

The pair both just continued to shake their heads in silence.

"Sir?" It was their scanner officer. Donovan nodded.

"The Lyonaisse is down to 10% sheilds and falling, what are you orders?"

Unlike aboard the Invincible, where loyalty was the paramount virtue, the Donovia was the cream of the crop from their namesake, independant and analytical thinking prized as much as training. From where he was sitting the scanner could see that not only was the Carrack close to destruction, but that their current path would move them directly into the path of any large explosion.

Donovan's eyes were already on the holodisplay, and nodded in acceptance of the distruction of their ally.

"Ay, begin angling slightly away, but not much. We need to press this attack home."

He looked again at the holodisplay, revealing only 5 of his TIEs now remained.

"And call back our fighters, bring them into a defensive pattern around the ship. We've lost enough as is already..."



Omdal Alpha One, Miy'til of Wing Commander Grisholm



"Closing in from angle 135, FIRE!"

His shout was echoed across the 5 other fighters with him, 6 concussion missiles streaking out towards the left side of carracks bridge. This time, unlike the 3 other runs they had made, rotating attack angles with their compatriots each time, they weren't greeted with the small outward explosions of projectiles hitting shield, but the larger more spectacular sight of a hull impact.

"Hooooooo-WEEEE!" came the involuntary expression of joy at their success, just as he spotted the Hetrinars coming up and down into their runs.

"Shit, break off, those torp-lugers are about to strike an unsheilded power gen!"

All six immediately did so, scattering and falling back in short order towards their carrier. A few moments later, the other miy'tils in other attack patterns saw the same thing as he did, and followed suit.

But the Hetrinars, they just kept on coming.

Sadly, or perhaps humanely, a realist and an idealist would disagree on that point, all 6 Hetrinars had chosen to strike the same target, the right side generator. The attacking movements were all at about the same point in their run and fired, another deuce of torps streaking out from each craft.

Twelve projectiles of death in all.

The Hetrinar's broke off immediately, pulling away from that which their handiwork had wrought, not quite knowing what to expect.

Suddenly there was a small flash, and inside the carrack a muted 'krump' as transteel ruptured and explosives detonated. A few seconds past, what seemed like an eternity to the ships crew, before a massive boom, nothing muted now, as one of their two generators exploded.

Now, the difference in realist and idealist beliefs comes into play. A realist would say that, because of the size of the explosion and the fifty metre square chunk of the ship that broke off, the people on board suffered as little as possible, as the entirity of the ships atmosphere was sucked out in mere moments and the crew killed in a relatively speedy and painless manner. The idealist on the other hand would firstly say 'no, but if the ship hadn't been do badly destroyed then some people could have been saved'. Then he would say 'but if the ship hadn't been destroyed then noone would have had to die at all!'. Finally he would break into his standard rant on 'how war is bad and we should all change to help our fellow sentient blah blah blah'. The realist would then club the idealist with a stick and steal his wallet.


Bridge of the Omdal.


The crew cheered at the carracks destruction buy Franz was quick to hush them.

"That was the easy part boys and girls, now give me full forward thrust and turn us towards that right dreadnought. I want to pass him on the far side and use his own mass to protect us from the other."

The cheering stopped and the crew returned to their duties, now hoping that even with their hyperdrive down, they might still survive this one, knowing that the chances were slightly tipped back towards them.

"And tell Dietrich to report on his damn progress!"

The emptiness of it still chilled him.

For Michael, who had spent almost all of his life living in the Capital of Solaris, the wonder of space had fascinated him since his childhood. He longed to one day venture out into the unknown, with the twinkling light of the stars as his constant friend and companion. 320 had always promised him he would, and that promised had been fulfilled at last.

It was not what he had expected.

In the depths of space Michael had found that no companion, no matter how bright, could make the darkness any better. The stars seemed distant and bleak; they were not the shimmering beacons of hope they had been from the balcony of his suite in the Capital. With only the hum of the ship’s engines and the feel of metal underneath his feet to keep him company, Michael felt bitterly alone.

“Shall I engage the ship’s opacity, sir?” came a voice from behind him…a voice as metallic as the ship.

“No,” Michael replied, a bit too suddenly, “No…I’d like to keep it on a while, if that’s alright with you, 16.”

The Solarisian ship came equipped with technology that allowed the entire ship to become completely invisible on the inside, allowing those on board a complete view of all the space surrounding them. There were many such advancements on Solarisian ships, but none of the rather important advancements had any practical use in combat. The Solarisians had wondered at that for a long time, but Michael believed he knew the answer as to why.

It was to keep their creations from running amok in a primitive galaxy with weapons none could understand. Whoever had built the Solarisians had not wanted technology that could be used in the art of war to fall into enemy hands, or for the Solarisians to be coerced, through honorable means or no, to ally with a primitive civilization and give them access to technology that should be out of their reach.

And, as Michael thought about it, the Solarisians had done just that.

“As you wish, sir,” CPT-16 nodded his head slightly, almost in reverence, and breaking Michael from his musings, “The time until our departure from this sector is thirty Solarisian minutes.”

“Thank you, 16,” Michael nodded his head back.

“Excuse me, sir,” the robot manning the communications called, ENS-36 Michael believed, “I am picking up a transmission from a sector close by…it seems to be…a Hapan distress signal, sir. The HMS Omdal, sir.”

“How quickly can we make it there, at full speed?” Michael asked; his voice sharp and demanding.

“By my approximation, we should be able to-”

“Quickly enough to be of any use?” Michael cut it off.

“That is a very circumstantial question, sir,” the robot pondered, “But if the distress signal was sent during the beginning of the skirmish, and the Hapan forces are equal or close to equal that of the assailant’s forces, I believe so, sir.”

“Very well,” Michael nodded and turned, “ENS-23, set course for the sector in question, all speed. Inform the fighters and have them do the same.”

“But sir,” it was CPT-16, “What of our current mission?”

“Our current mission does not take priority when allies’ lives are at stake,” Michael reprimanded the robot, a bit more harshly than he had intended, and winced after he had spoken, “I do appreciate your concern, however. ENS-23, make it so.”

Weak, at best.

But CPT-16 had raised an interesting point. What of their current mission? It would have to wait, of course. If they could do anything to help allies in danger, Michael would do it in a heartbeat, or as the Solarisians said, in the whir of a gear. But his decision would likely be frowned upon by 320, and perhaps the Andozians, especially if the Hapan distress signal had been exaggerated.

Michael’s small battle group was made up of the scout ship, which had been reconfigured rather brilliantly by the Solarisian technicians to serve as a coordination ship for the twenty four star fighters that accompanied it. Twelve Solarisian fighters and twelve upgraded Andozian Excalibur-class Interceptors.

There were other battle groups throughout the outskirts of the Hapes Cluster, searching for…it was best not to think of such things. They were searching. Michael’s battle group had luckily reached the edge of their search radius; they were technically on the Perlemian Trade Route, between Tanaab and the Roche asteroids. Soon, however, they would be near Donovia, fighting alongside the Hapans and who knows who else that would respond to the distress signal.

Taking one final glance at the two squadrons he had with him, Michael closed his eyes as one of the robots with him aboard the coordination ship engaged the ship’s opacity, in preparation for the jump to light speed. His old mission was gone now, in the past, perhaps to be revisited sometime in the future, but not now. His new one was ahead of him, and he was focused. He was calm. He was alert.

He was ready to save lives.

They jumped.

Bridge of the Omdal.



"Report!"

Captain Franzs voice was more tense now as the Omdal began its run towards the Dreadnought, now finally in the firing lines of both of their remaining enemies.

"Sheilds holding at 80% and our fletchettes have been able to hold off their torps. Looks like we'll hit 70% before we reach the point at which the other dread can't hit us."

Franz nodded, slumping in his seat momentarily as he considered his options. There wasn't really anything he could do, but wait, and hope that his distress call had gotten through. To who it didn't matter at this point.

His hand went back to rubbing his stubble caked face.



Bridge of Invincible.



"General Ruudrig? The marines are readied, should we send a launch to secure surivors from the wreck?"

For a moment Ruudrig considered the proposal. His eyes were fixed on the holodisplay that showed they were rapidly approaching the lost light cruiser and thought recovering those men would be good for P.R. But only for a moment.

"No, launch the men onto the enemy ship. The coward has come back to face us now, and we'll show him what Khalisian fighting men can really do!"

Such cliches were hallmark of the hulking general, and usually reassured his men of his command, but not so now. Most knew the enemy cruiser had done what was tactically best by engaging them one at a time, but none dared correct their leader.

"And lets keep those torpedos flying!"

"Ay sir, but they are appearing ineffectual. It seems the enemy cruiser has some significant counter measures that are rending all projectile attacks useless."

Ruudrig couldn't help but growl to himself at that. But Captain Farina was quick to interject.

"I believe, therefore, that it will make that cruiser an even more significant prize to the Grand Marshall when we do finally catch it."

The General nodded, his growling sated for the moment.



Bridge of the Donovia.



"General Ruudrig has ordered his marines to launch sir, shall we move to join them?"

Donovan was immediately sceptical of sending out their pair of assault shuttles into the battle, the Hapans star fighter superiority had shown them that much. He wasn't about to squander his men needlessly. Especially when, despite numerical superiority, the battle was still well in the balance.

"No, not now. We hold until its of most prudence. But perhaps we should task our fighters..."

He trailed off, observing now that the majority of the enemies fighters had pulled back into defensive positions relatively similiar to where his now were. Any attempt to send them in support of Ruudrigs assault craft would be desultory and self destructive.

"The fighters sir?"

He shook his head.

"No, order them to maintain their orders, although... Have them move into forward interception positions between us and Ruudrig."

Activity continued to swarm around him but there was nothing they could do. They were well out of explosion range of the Lyonnaise but still had to circle wide of it if they wanted to be safe. Especially if the enemy continued on its path around the Invincible and away from them.

He shook his head again at the proximaty that Ruudrig was bringing his ship to there fallen comrade. Perhaps he was moving to pick up survivors? Donovan immediately dismissed the thought, knowing full well the Generals beliefs about the use of military man power. Still, the sight was distressing, and perhaps a little foreboding, considering the way the battle had gone up til this point.

"Sir?"

Donovan was snapped back to earth by his fire control officer.

"The enemy cruiser has moved out of our firing lines behind the Invincible."

That wily son of a bitch.

"Channel all available weapons energy into our engines, we need to get into firing position as soon as possible."

From his position looking down on the bridge his words had immediate effect, a dozen crew members moving to and fro each others stations to get the job done in as little time as possible. But he couldn't keep his eyes off the wrecked Carrack in the holodisplay, which now was only a bare few hundred metres from their 'command' ship.

Suddenly his attention was diverted as another fire control officer highlighted a unit of enemy fighters.

"Sir? You asked me to tell you when the enemy gun boats changed position, they have, and are moving in two groups towards... The Lyonaisse?"

It wasn't a question, but merely a statement of confusion. Why would they be moving towards a destroyed ship? It was in two peices, and only had one functional power generator...

"The power generator!"

Most of the crew immediately looked up from their stations as their CO blurted the statement out.

"Hail Ruudrig, tell him to get the hell away from the wreckage, their going to blow the other generator!"

It took another moment to sink in, and by the time the crew were following his orders it was too late, he knew the Invincible couldn't get out of there in time to avoid damage.

Another moment passed, excruciatingly slowly. Then another. Finally another.

The lightshow that followed dazzled even Donovan.

A huge explosion, larger than the one that had destroyed their comrades, covered the carrack and part of the tail section of the now turning Invincible. It took their holodisplay a moment to register it, but the effect was still pretty amazing.

Donovan just shook his head in dismay.

That wily son of a bitch!

Wilkar jogged out of the lift and into his command chair on the bridge of his flagship, theRapier. The bridge was buzzing wiht activity. Wilkar caugth bits of conversation about everything from turbolaser firing angles to a three percent drop in thrust from one of the great ship's engine.

"Are we ready to go to lightspeed Ensign Ricky?"

"We're are moving out of Hapes' mass shadow now Admiral."

"Good."

"The Renown and the Veteran are moving into position at our flanks," Captain Tillis, the auburn haired battle coordinator, told him.

"Have all patrols been recovered?"

"The last flight is entering the forward hangers. We have now cleared the Hapan mass shadow, going to lightspeed now."

All the lights on the bridge flickered and then came back on. The space around the star destroyer remained unchanged, and the Victory Cass Star Destroyers slaved to their nav computer remained where they were as well.

"Engineering! What the fuck?"



Engineering Officer Second Class Richards was having a very bad day. His commanding officer had been arrested by the Hapan Magistrate for drunken and disorderly conduct, and had left him with a mountain of maintenance issues associated with keeping a twenty year old battleship in working order.

"Engineering! What the fuck?"

"The starboard power router is FUBARed to hell. We're trying to make a fix now. Stand by sir ..."

Forty-five minutes later

"The ship is ready to go to lightspeed, Admiral."

Ensign Ricky hit a button on his consol and the flotilla rocketed into hyperspace.

"Captain Kewell, sir?"

The lithe man turned towards the sound, floppy brown hair following the movement only a moment later. He smiled, but grimly, knowing that both good and bad news was coming. Good, being that they should only be a few minutes from Omdal and able to assist, bad in that some of his men could very well soon die.

He nodded for the functionary to continue.

"5 minutes sir."

The nodding changed tone to an acknowledgement, which saw the ensign dismissed. Immediately, but slowly, Kewell turned himself back towards the viewport. This time, his foppish hair managed to keep up.



Bridge of the Invincible.



The crew were truly scared now, the shock waves of the explosions having caused much superficial damage to the crewmen themselves. There were several fractured skulls, and numerous other less incapacitating injuries.

It took at least a minute for them to report on the actual structural damage that the ship had sustained.

And when they did, they came in hard and fast.

"Shields almost lost sir!"

"Engines, totally wrecked, we're gonna need a tug."

"Rearward batteries are unmanned sir, the crew have been knocked unconcious."

"Medlab needs casualty movement orders sir!"

Ruudrig looked from face to face of each shouting man, momentarily bewildered at the barrage of questions coming his way. Despite his 'actual' responsabilities, the General had never really had to face up to any of them, thanks to a carefully selected litter of hard working busibodies. Now though, his minions were thousands of miles away, enjoying the comfort of his palace.

Another moment passed without Ruudrig's responses and they continued shouting, desperation creeping more and more into their voice's as their commanding officer, and financier, began to unravel. Luckily, Farina was still a naval officer, and took charge.

"Rout any available energy from engines to sheilds. Repair crews to the engines. Get any spare men into those gun turrents and order the med bay to begin sweeping the ship for casualties."

The men felt reassured immediately, and dispatched the orders with renewed vigour and faith. Suddenly the ships marine officer spoke up.

"And what of the marines sir? Should we continue the 'charge'?"

At any other time Ruudrig would have had the man shot for insubordination, but now the only words the General heard were Marines and Charge.

He was immediately snapped from his stupor.

"Yes, press home the charge, we won't need engines or a tug if we capture that ship!"

The marine coordination officer just looked at the General, eyes fixed on the enemy ship, then to the holodisplay, which showed a large space of open territory between the assault shuttles and the enemy cruiser, and finally to the enemy fighters, still sitting in a defensive screen around their mother ship.

He shook his head in disgust, knowing full well those men were dead already, and ordered their advance.

The lift taking Wilkar to the Rapier's engine room opened, and he stepped out. Engineers in grey jumpsuits scrambled about, hauling various components, such as sheets of plasteel, tubing, and a hole plethora of electronics.

"Richards! Status report, now!"

The Engineering Officer turned from a computer terminal, and ran to Wilkar's location.

"We've fixed the issue with the starboard power router, but when we tried to reboot, our primary reactor went down. The back ups are keeping us in good shape, but at a price..."

"A price? What the fuck Richards? Stop being cryptic!"

"Ahh... Yes Sir, the ship will be running at fifty-five percent power. Which means we will have forty-five percent speed on our sublights and less than half of our turbolasers will be able to fire with our shields at ten percent."

Scenarios began coming the Wilkar's mind. Wilkar was an engineer too.

"Two questions Richards, how much power can you restore by the time we drop out of hyperspace, and what power can we reroute to propulsion and weapons systems?"

The other engineer pulled out his datapad, and began to do calculations feverlishly. He looked like he was about to break a sweat, not to mention a mental sweet. Then all at once he stopped and sighed.

"We will a total of sixty-five percent power restored if we continue at this rate. This is assuming nothing fraks up. Do you have any extra personal that we could get down here? If we could get some people down here hauling parts, I could take some work off my staff, and get them doing more essential stuff."

Wilkar noted this in his own datapad.

"I"ll have to check, but I'm pretty sure that I can find some folks. One more question Richards, how did all this get so screwed up, and whose ass is gonna fry when this all over?"

The overworked engineer sighed yet again.

"I'm a new transfer to this ship just like you are sir, and your guess is just as good as mine. But... I have suspicion that is has to do with a certain chief engineering officer that is occupying a Hapan jail cell."

Wilkar snickered, and pulled something out of his pocket.

"You are hereby promoted to Chief Engineering Officer of the Commonwealth Destroyer, Rapier. Serve you post well, Commander. Dismissed."

The newly promoted officer did a perfect about face, and returrned to his post.



"Preparing to drop out of hyperspace... now," said Ensign Ricky

The ship's viewport changed from the wild spiraling of shapes and colors to a sheet of black punctured by stars and a battled that loomed closer and closer as the ship accelerated. By some miracle, Commander Richards and his fellow engineers had managed to restore eighty-five percent power to the ship.

"Launch fighters and raise shields. I want the Renown and its complement to set up a defensive pattern around the Omdal. Veteran, you're with us. Roll us around to bring our weapons to bear."

Wilkar checked his chrono. "Execute," he ordered pointing to the helm.

A-Wings and Star Vipers began streaming out of each of the three ships of Wilkar's flotilla. The starfighters began to maneuver into their shield trios and head off to the target assigned to them by their ship's tactical officer with input from a battle computer.

Wilkar was worried though not about this engagement. The squadrons of fleet carried an escort payload, the bare minimum of torpedos and missiles. Even though the Hapans had this battle mostly under control, how would they fare in the next one or in the one after that?