A pirate cruiser exits hyperspace like a slug punching into flesh and immediately unleashes the ordnance from within its modified missile launchers onto its opponents before it. Concussion missiles slam into the Nebulon-B and Arquitens as its frontal ion cannon unleashes a blast of energy into the opposing light cruiser. The Imperial warships quickly start coming about to face the Tionese Man o’ War. The ship continues its race forward, the Imps now able to identify the sigil painted upon its hull, the Imperial cog surrounded by a noose. The Imperial warships increase their speed to face the warship head on while their escorted trio of bulk cruisers turn to attempt a retreat.

  Yet the Tionese warship continues its rapid advance, closing distance far too quickly for most ships of its make and unloads its light turbolaser batteries and proton torpedoes upon the warships beside it. Shields shatter, explosions rock the hulls of the two light ships while a simple transmission emits from the Algorian Corsair.

  “To all Imperial ships. Surrender now or die by the hand of the Dread Pirate Roberts!”

  As the two light ships continue to exchange ordnance at high speeds with the Corsair warship, another ship is spat out of hyperspace on an intercept course with the three bulk cruisers. A beaten up Munificent, lacking most of its light turbolasers yet wielding its prow heavy turbolaser spur, suddenly facing the three lightly armed transports head on. It only takes a second for tibana to race through the upper turbolaser spur and a moment more for the gas to emerge and barely pass above the bridge of the lead transport.

  After a moment’s hesitation the three bulk cruisers lower their shields and cut their engines. Better survive than die in a pointless act of resistance. Especially as the Nebulon explodes in a fiery ball of durasteel, fuel and plasma, her few escape pods picked off one by one. The gunners snatching them out of the void like fish in a barrel.

  This would be a fine bounty for these privateers and only increase the renown of their dreaded Captain. After all, resupply ships paid almost as well as actual cruisers outfitted for war. And bulk freighters, in comparison to those cruisers, didn’t shoot back.

  My fleet enters Derellium with little fanfare, finding the system surprisingly well defended for the little time Admiral Varth had between his arrival and ours. A battered Imperial, a Tector, six Venators, nine Dreadnoughts, eight Acclamator ones and an Acclamator two, four Arquitenses, four Nebulons and maybe a dozen corvettes and pickets. Varth had decided to anchor his formation with the two wedge shaped battleships, his Venators and cruisers making up his line proper while his light cruisers escorted the anchors of his flanks and the other pickets supplemented the center.

  Yet it wasn’t the twenty five enemy ships of the line and their twenty light ships and pickets that gave me pause, but the minefield they had arrayed in front of their formation, just beyond the hyperspace egress point’s extraction area. I frown, clever of him, I would either have to dismantle, detonate or circumvent the field, giving Varth more time to prepare his grounds or retreat further.

  “Fire missiles. Detonate the field, firing solutions for minefield mirror seven.” I order, too bad Varth was using a standard minefield template, one I had studied and used extensively.

  “Roger that. Load anti-fighter frags and two concussions. Fire at will.” Mi-Kus extrapolates on my orders.

  “Form up, Venators and Dreads in center, Constellation with my 111th Colonies Cruiser on the portside flank under Commodore Miller and the Corellian Comet with the 222nd Colonies Cruiser under Rear Admiral Luxerite on the starboard flank. Acclamators take up the second line, pickets spread out among the line.” I order quickly, the formation adjusting to my will as missiles fly and race towards the minefield ahead of us.

  A cacophony of explosions rock the minefield ahead of us and I feel the need to be dramatic overwhelm me: “Formation full speed ahead. Divert power from weapons to shields.”

  We emerge into the dissipating fireballs, durasteel plates flowing over the windows to ensure they weren’t damaged. I should make sure we loot a recording of our ships emerging from the rapidly diminishing explosions once we win.

  “Shields down by a quarter.” A tech reports as we finish piercing the now destroyed minefield.

  “Keep speed, adjust shields to focus forward and on our sides. Prepare to launch strikecraft and begin picking your targets.” I order.

  “Focus on the Venator at eleven o’clock.” Mi-Kus orders the gunnery officer, “And load another round of concussions.”

  “Loading.”

  “Adjusting battery rotations.

  “Entering heavy turbolaser range.”

  “Incoming.”

  Half a dozen heavy turbolasers smash into the Little Revenge while various other heavy turbolasers thud agains the shields of the other ships. The flanks take a considerable pounding as the Imperial and Tector unleash their massed heavy turbolasers upon their opposing Corellian Destroyers and Fondorian Hammerheads.

  “Fire at will!” I bark while pointing at the enemy line.

  The return fire of hundreds of concussion missiles, heavy turbolasers and heavy ion cannon blasts emerge from our line in turn. Heavy ordnance smashes against shields, the more concentrated fire breaking a Venator’s shields in the rebel opening volley and the following missiles punching various holes into her hangar bays and knocking out one of her heavy turbolaser batteries.

  “Slow the advance to a crawl.” I order.

  “Engaging retro-thrusters.” The Helmsman reports.

  “I wish to keep our current range for now.” I inform the men, “We have the advantage in firepower from here for now. We’ll close range once we’ve smashed the enemy center.”

  “Understood, sir.” Mi-Kus says with a nod before turning to the gunnery Adjutant, “Load another round of concussions and fire at will. See if we can knock out one of the enemy Venators.”

  “Roger that, sir.”

  “Deploy strikecraft, I want them to rush in asap and focus on the enemy battleships.” I order. Varth had abandoned or lost most of his strikecraft in the previous battle. He should be unable to counter a focused fighter and bomber attack.

  “Deploying wings now.”

  “Have Little Squadron lead the attack on the Reinvigoration.” I order.

  “Colonel Solo will be informed once the wings are assembled.” Commander Slas replies.

  “Keep the more rookie squadrons in reserve to act as emergency pickets and counter strikecraft support.” I adjust my orders.

  Like a swarm of locusts, my strikecraft race towards the paltry defenders of the Imperial warships, a considerable chunk breaking off to make runs on the Reinvigoration. I simply continue to observe the long range exchange. After all, as long as Varth didn’t attempt to turn tail and run, I would happily dismantle him form range.

  It was only a matter of time now.

  The warehouse door explodes inwards with the might of a vengeful god. The shrapnel and debris impacting into the distant opposing wall of the warehouse with a clap like thunder. Immediately grenades and blasterfire fly into the open space, elite Stormtroopers bursting through the new cavity in an eerily similar way to the previous explosion.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  B1 droids attempt to return fire alongside the half a dozen sentients, most human, though there are two Gotal with them. Two of the sentients, one of them the Rebel Intelligence Brigade Agent sent to foment dissent, die to precise blasterbolts as droid after droid are dismantled by similar means. The firefight ends quickly from there. The rebels surrendering as the last of their droids fall to pieces.

  Yet the day isn’t over quite yet, as the Imperials begin escorting the remaining wounded prisoners to their transport, a crowd of locals gather around them. It starts with a few jeers as a few in the crowd recognize friends and neighbors. A few cries of outrage, then someone throws a rock. Be it due to an attempt of resistance, an act of solidarity, an attempt to punish those who had disturbed the peace or any of a myriad of reasons, it doesn’t really matter. After all, the chunk of duracrete smashes against a Stormtrooper’s helmet, knocking the man off his feet and into the dirt. In return the Imperial Lieutenant turns to face the crowd.

  “PRESENT ARMS!”

  The Troopers not busy manhandling their prisoners turn quickly, aiming their blasters at the civilians enemy. The crowd stirs. This was unexpected, this level of force was far beyond reciprocal. This was punishing the many for the actions of one, seven if one wished to include those who had caused the Imperials to arrive in this district in the first place. A few people in the front try to push back behind their fellows while others begin to shout.

  “FUCK OFF!”

  “REPUBLIC DOGS!”

  “SWINE!”

  “PALPATINE WON’T SUCK YA OFF FOR THIS!”

  “TRAITORS!”

  “COWARDS!”

  “WHORES’ SONS!”

  “POINT THOSE SOMEWHERE ELSE!”

  “AFRAID OF SOME CIVIES?”

  “SHOULDA FACED US A YEAR AGO, WOULD’VE TORN YOUR GUTS OUT!”

  “COWARDS!”

  “PUSSIES!”

  “FIRE!”

  “FIRE!”

  “FIRE!”

  “FIRE!”

  “FIRE!”

  Blasters scream as dozens of people drop to the ground, smoke emerging from various points on their bodies. The crowd surges away, terror filling their ranks as the people scream and shout. The mob of people trample over those who lose their footing or are hit by further blasterbolts. As more and more people fall to the ground, dead or dying, the Stormtroopers begin to reform their formation and finish stowing away their prisoners.

  Yet hearing the blasterfire a handful of Lianna Police Officers rush to the scene. Finding dozens of their fellow citizens dead at the hands of the obvious perpetrators it only takes one man to act. A Constable, fires in anger at the Imperial Lieutenant, missing the man and hitting the vehicle he was standing in front of instead. And just like that, the Separatist training the Police force had done to protect their world from white armored monsters kicks in. As the Stormtroopers open fire, the rest of the police officers join the rash actions of their compatriot. The man who had fired first dying on the ground as his commanding officer requests backup against those who had committed a massacre.

  Soon enough, the entire southern district of Lola Curich is in flames. Local policemen and the members of the only recently disbanded Confederate Militia battling the Imperial presence on their world. Street by street, barricade by barricade, house by house, room by room. A thousand little sieges and counter-sieges. Only a few hours after the street battles began, after the massacre which lit this match, once the Imperial Governor has deployed his garrison tot he city, the entire world learns of the massacre.

  And Lianna burns.

  Raddus looks down at the world below. Raxus had seemed like an insurmountable obstacle not too long ago. And now, for the second time in a year’s time, a force loyal to the Republic had entered her system with the intention of securing her from tyrannical forces. Raddus would laugh if it weren’t so depressing.

  “Contact Major General Tonham.” Raddus instructs his comms chief, “The 282nd Infantry Division is to make landfall. He shall have orbital and air support whenever he wishes, though remind the General we still have a couple Imperial Star Destroyers to mop up here.”

  “Understood, sir.” The white skinned Mon Calamari says.

  Raddus focuses once more on the Imperial taskforce in front of him, then at the force behind him. A sole Imperial class battleship, flanked by four Tectors and four Venators. Then there was a decently sized gap on both sides, leaving a suspicious amount of space between the center and the two groups of three Dreadnought heavy cruisers and two Acclamators. Then of course there were the dozens of corvettes, frigates and light cruisers Raddus would expect from any Imperial warfleet. Eight Arquitenses, six Peltas, four Nebulon-Bs, and twenty Gozantis.

  Meanwhile the older Mon Calamari faced them with the 1st Mon Cala/Dac, epithet Expeditionary Force, Battlegroup. Eighteen Star Cruisers, all retrofitted to be able to take on any Tector and win one on one. Four MC80 Home One types, three of the MC80 Liberties, three of the recently renamed MC80 Wingless types and nine MC75s. Twelve MC30c frigates and three MC40a light cruisers.

  If that was everything at his command he might be mildly concerned. After all, most of the Star Cruisers were untested in their new formats, the sole exceptions being the Pride of Ruisto and Home One herself, of which only one was in system. And yet, just as his command console begins displaying the detected Cronau radiation, he isn’t concerned.

  “Sir, 725th Outer Rim Squadron about to exit hyperspace.” His Aide de Camp reports dutifully.

  “Begin our advance. The Profundity will lead the portside flank alongside the Little Rendili and the Palatine’s Unity. Rest of the 3rd Dac will join the 6th and 9th in the center. Have the Palatine’s Blade, Pinperu’s Duty and Honorbound lead the starboard assault, the rest of their 5th Mon Cala shall join the center as well. Divide our pickets evenly and deploy strikecraft for close picket and interception duty. I will not risk them yet.”

  “725th exiting hyperspace, sir.” His Aide reports, “Slightly further out than we had hoped, they’ll need at least until we’ve closed distance for broadsides to enter maximum range.”

  “Request Commodore Bwisue deploy his strikecraft aggressively then, to allow them to participate in the battle.” Raddus orders, “And slow our starboard advance to give them a better chance of participating. I won’t spit at six Dreadnoughts and two Acclamators, especially if they’re as skilled as their sisterships.”

  “282nd Division moving to make planetfall now, sir.”

  “Entering max range, sir.”

  “Excellent. Hold fire until we’ve gotten our marks. Our shields can sustain the hits.” Raddus orders.

  Ion cannons pulse and heavy turbolasers blaze, various heavy ordnance smashing into the Mon Cala forces’ shields, dissipating easily upon them. Raddus continues to wait though. Letting heavy ordnance wash over his center and portside flank like water over a stone as his gunners finish making their final adjustments.

  Finally, as he catches the transports descend to the surface below he gives the order: “Fire at will.”

  All at once, hundreds of heavy turbolasers and ion cannons unleash their ordnance. The opening salvo breaks the shields of the Dreadnoughts on the portside flank and punches a few holes into their armor belts. Raddus nods as multiple enemy frigates go dark from the opening volley. A solid start.

  “Incoming hostile strikecraft. I’ve got five wings total, sir. All but half a wing are V-Wings, the rest are ARC-170s.” His sensors officer reports.

  “Interceptors!” Raddus orders.

  Immediately after the barked order dozens of Headhunters, Starchasers, Whitecloaks, V-19 Torrents, Y-Wings and H-60 Tempests race towards the hostile swarms. Mon Cala may not have the standardization of the Republic Navy, but that didn’t mean they didn’t have skilled fighter pilots of their own! The eight wings of the 1st Mon Cala Battlegroup would once more test their mettle. The veterans of the civil war and invasion now finally returning the favor to their foes.

  As the fighters clash, the bombers continue to race forward, making runs for their opposing cruisers. Raddus allows himself to smirk openly at that. It was a flaw of many a Republic trained officer to keep their bombers in reserve instead of pushing them past the fighter brawls. Sure, a few fighters may break off to pursue, but not nearly enough to overcome the bombers’ formations and defense turrets.

  “Major General Tonham reports successful planetfall. They’re advancing towards the local imperial garrisons in the city. He also reports a squad from the Intelligence Brigade has joined up with him.”

  “Shouldn’t be surprised a bunch of spooks are on Raxus.” Raddus says gruffly as an Imperial Dreadnought goes up in flames, bombers passing it by to assault the Acclamator behind it.

  “Sir, the Titanic reports the Imperial Star Destroyer has been bracketed by concentrated ion fire. Her shields are down and most of her countermeasures are fried.”

  “Blast out her primary bridge, then focus on the Tectors. Fling an ion barrage at it whenever it looks like it might wake up.” Raddus orders.

  The Mon Calamari Admiral doesn’t even flinch when he watches three heavy turbolasers smash into the bridge complex of the Imperial battleship. After all, it was the risk built into the very ship. One shouldn’t feel bad when abusing it, though losing the intel from the Imperial flagship would hurt in the short-term.

  “Closing into medium range. Expect an uptick in damage to the shields across the line.” His Aide de Camp reminds him.

  “Yes, yes. Adjust shield positioning as appropriate.”

  “Sir, fighter brawl is moving towards the line. Enemy has given up wining the brawls in favor of attempting to increase damage on us.”

  “Losses?” Raddus asks.

  “Twenty seven percent across all squadrons, sir.” Comes the reply.

  Raddus frowns. At this rate they would run out of strikecraft before the year was out. Unless the Starchaser factories at Krinemonen and Garel had a sudden uptick in production. Perhaps he should implore General Bvinsk to increase the purchases of fighters from the black market contacts Benoni insisted both didn't and shouldn’t exist.

  A heavy turbolasers pierces a Nebulon’s central spine as it attempts to reposition itself. Y-Wings and Tempests drop proton bombs over Acclamators and Venators alike. All the while the Star Cruisers, cruisers and frigates of the rebel forces advance towards the rapidly diminishing Imperial force.

  “Sir, I have an Imperial ship attempting surrender.”

  “Standard protocols. Once its deactivated its shields fling a few ion cannon blasts at it to keep it docile. Inform their Captain of the precaution, no need to scare sensible men.” Raddus orders his eyes focusing on an explosion rocking one of the Tector’s, its heavy battery now flung into the void as tibana gas, lubricant and flesh leaks from the new hole in the ship.

  “Center and portside entering into broadside engagements. Starboard forces engaging at medium range, sir.” His Aide reports.

  “I want our detachment here to intensify fire upon those Dreadnoughts and to divert our strikecraft from that mauled Acclamator to the central assault. We can finish it off by ourselves.” Raddus orders.

  “Understood. Rerouting local strikecraft.”

  A Venator breaks thanks to the sustained bombardment from two sides, her hull pockmarked with holes and carved trenches. An Arquitense crashes into the shields of the MC80 Star Cruiser Palatine, part of her shields breaking as the ship pierces into her hull like a dagger. The ship’s engines strain until a series of heavy turbolasers smash into the broken ship’s hull, leaving little more than slag and debris behind.

  “Enemy Dreadnoughts disabled.”

  “Leave the Palatine’s Unity here to keep watch. Rest of the flank shall turn on the center.” Raddus orders.

  “Understood.”

  Raddus almost felt bad as the battle was all but over. With twelve Star Cruisers and their escorts bearing down on a mere six heavily wounded battleships it was only a matter of the enemy realizing the battle was hopeless. Especially as his Profundity and Little Rendilli cutting them off from behind.

  Strikecraft continued to buzz about the enemy battleships, dropping proton bombs, launching concussion missiles and proton torpedoes and firing their lasercannons as they go. Yes, this battle was over, all that remained was the mop up and the formal surrender of the ground forces.

  Raddus smiles as a well placed heavy turbolaser smashes into the engine block of a Tector. Things were going to plan.