I glance at the fortifications around me. After another three battles against Dodonna and his Vanguard Division I was still a bit exhausted. I had taken every chance to sleep during transit, knowing my battle plans would do well, even without most of our destroyers.

  And while we had managed to maul the lighter ships of Honor’s vanguard, we had also lost another four hammerhead corvettes and one of our Carracks. At least we were able to have all of the destroyers repaired to essentially full operational ability, something the Star Destroyers of the Vanguard should be unable to do. Unless they were sent back to drydock, something which I doubted Honor would be willing to do, not if it would practically destroy all the momentum her losses had bought her.

  I inhale deeply as I inspect the defenders of Argai. Fifteen Venators, divided into their respective heavy sections of five, fifteen Recusant light destroyers, divided similarly, a Providence dreadnought, an MC80a, three Providence battleships, two CD-710 destroyers and two MC75 Star Cruisers made up our battleships, forty one in total. Then, intermingled with the line of battleships, we had thirty three Dreadnoughts, four Munificents, forty seven Hammerheaad cruisers, a trio of Tionese Man o’ Wars, five Arquitenses, four MC40a light cruisers and two Carracks.

  In our second lines we had an assortment of sixteen Acclamator ones and eight Acclamator twos. A decent reserve, capable of plugging gaps when necessary and a solid place to rearm and make any emergency repairs needed by our strikecraft during the battle.

  Intermingled throughout these lines there was the only force we actually outnumbered the Imperials in, light craft. Twenty nine frigates, nine MC30c, eight Nebulon-B, two Centax and ten Peltas, seventy two Sphyrna hammerhead corvettes, thirty IPV-1 pickets, spread throughout the system and beyond for intelligence gathering, sixteen DP20 corvettes, fourteen CR90s, thirteen Tionese Sloops, seven Consulars and three Marauders. A hundred and ninety one light ships and pickets, plus our eleven light cruisers in comparison to the Empire’s hundred and eight light ships and pickets, over a third of which were slow Carracks.

  We would be able to skirmish to an acceptable margin. Our DP20s, Consulars and Marauders should even be able to stay at range with the Imperials while doing so. It was a solid enough plan for me to be willing to risk it in a sense. So of course, I had sent our skirmishing force off ahead of us under the command of Faxe. Sure, he complained mildly, but he knew as well as I did that he was the most experienced skirmisher commander we had.

  “Sir, detecting Cronau radiation from the northern hyperspace egress point closest to Argai.” Welder reports.

  “I wish we could’ve delayed Honor for another month. Then Hermes would be too close to have that egress point usable.” I complain halfheartedly. Probably would be able to make this a system wide engagement then.

  “I wish I had a trillion credits.” Mi-Kus replies evenly.

  “Cronau keeps increasing. Sir, it looks like the entire Retribution Fleet is coming in hot.”

  “Damn.” I mutter, “Inform Strom of it and comm Krugwolt the intel. Battle’s likely about to get hot. Operational Division soundoff.”

  “This is Buckler Division. Between a rock and a hard place.” Faxe’s voice replies.

  “This is Ruusan’s Folly Division. North is clear, sir.” Sykes reports.

  “This is Korriban’s Silence Division. The center will hold.” Benoni’s calm tone replies.

  “Sith’s Demise Division. Northern reserves ready.” Rear Admiral Baraka reports from his Pride of Ruisto, stationed on the northern front line.

  “Glassmaker Division reports southern reserves are ready, sir.” Rear Admiral Luxerite reports from his position on the southern line.

  “All strikecraft are ready and awaiting orders, sir.” Colonel Solo reports.

  “Ground forces are in position. The 53rd is itching for this fight.” Krugwolt’s voice comes up from below.

  “Little Revenge Division. The South will ensure our supply lines.” I inform the rest, “May the Force be with us, may the Maker preserve us, good luck and good hunting.”

  Fleet Admiral Honor inspects the battlefield closely, taking small mental notes whenever she notices something … unusual. Dericote had prepared the field adequately, she decides. A heavy minefield right ahead of her Center Division, taking up Vanguard Division’s usual post ahead of the second line consisting of Port and Starboard Division. Vanguard, after taking the beatings it had, would be the most experienced in fighting Dericote and for those reasons, it would be her reserve alongside her flagship.

  Some of her colleagues would belittle her for keeping twenty Imperials in reserve while having twenty outdated Venators serving alongside twenty Tectors in her eventual center. Those men she would name fools. Coruscant had proven the might of a Star Destroyer was most prudently used when the enemy line was exhausted and desperately in need of rest.

  Yes, she nods to herself. She would keep Dodonna’s twenty Imperials and their escorting Acclamators, Nebulons and few remaining Arquitenses in reserve where they would be most useful to her. She would let Rear Admiral Harkov lead the center, with her supervision of course.

  “Ma’am, enemy minefield has snatched a few pickets as we exited hyperspace. Your orders?” Her Adjunct asks.

  “Begin dismantling the field from a distance. Give us a way through. I am willing to be patient.” She orders. If Dericote had pulled any more forces away to fight her here he would have crippled himself when the Triellus attacks began. Those forces would also only bring him to parity with her and while her former protege was competent in battle, she had won Coruscant twice over. Such experience would trump whatever lessons he could have learned over Raxus.

  “Very well, ma’am.” Her Adjunct replies before gesturing for the comms chief to begin disseminating the order.

  “Should we be worried about rebel reinforcements, ma’am?” An Adjutant asks.

  “No. The closest rebel forces should be converging in the south to hold off Immich’s early assault or the northern thrust towards Sy Myrth. The only other Rebels would be the Mon Calamari in the north raiding along the Perlimian.”

  “They might be able to cut off our supply lines from there.” A different Adjutant worries, though her tone is calm.

  “Our supply lines are already compromised. There is a reason I had us stock up on munitions, repair materials and spare parts.” Honor replies coldly, “This … Raddus may be a thorn in our side. He may even be able to convince the Separatists at Felucia to attempt another breakout against their besiegers. However, Therbon will take Sy Myrth and our actions here will force Raddus back no matter what. Otherwise he will find himself isolated and extremely far away from his supply lines.”

  “Exactly, ma’am.” Her Adjunct says with a smile, “They will have to choose between Mon Cala and a continued assault along the Perlimian. We all know what these rebels will do then.”

  “That we do, Captain.” Honor replies coldly as flak and heavy turbolasers scream and burn into the minefield ahead of her, the various rebel pickets behind looking more and more nervous to her calculative eyes.

  I watch carefully as Honor takes the initiative. Slowly and methodically she begins to have her men dismantle a path through the minefield. Hm. I can’t easily pressure her, not with the limited number of strikecraft at hand. Sure, my forces have some damn fine pilots, but I couldn’t count on them being better than the Imps ahead of us. Especially with them outnumbering us with seventy six wings to our forty two.

  It certainly wouldn’t help that they were using a new doctrinal composition for their wings. Seventy percent were some form of fighter or interceptor, mostly Kuati V-Wings and Incom Headhunters, a single squadron were heavy fighters, the ARC-170 doing double duty as both possible bombers and fighter escorts for the twenty four bombers within the wings, consisting almost entirely of the BTLB Y-Wings.

  In comparison our wings were a hodgepodge of whatever we could get our hands on right now. Sure, large portions of them were standardized, but not all. Almost a full third of our strikecraft were my favored Starchasers with the trusted Headhunters being the second most prominent fighter at twenty percent, barely outnumbered by the twenty one percent or so of Y-Wings. Though that outnumbering was a bit of a technicality. More than three quarters of them were the standard BTLB variant found throughout the front line formations and taskforces of the Republic Navy, but that final quarter consisted of the much cheaper and more prevalent BTL-A4 that had become the darling of the planetary militia, Republic insurgent and the various defense forces during the first year of the Clone Wars.

  Next we came to the slightly uncomfortable part of our strikecraft. Five hundred and four Tri-fighters and three hundred and two Hyena bombers. Droid strikecraft that had either been fully incorporated into the squadrons which had suffered casualties or been organized into their own squadrons. I had … a mixed perception on how effective they would be. The Tri-fighters were known to have developed a mean streak in the final months of the war while Hyenas would be able to brave most bombing runs with the nerve of veteran pilots, though without their skill.

  Finally to round off our numbers, we had a few squadrons of V-19 Torrents, H-60 Tempests and NTB-630s formed up into their respective squadrons and incorporated into various reserve wings. The Torrents and Tempests were old and piloted by veterans of the Mon Cala Merchant Fleet’s various battles during the Clone Wars, so while their hardware may be out of date, their pilots should be skilled enough. The NTB-630s meanwhile had a single problem, they were slow. The bombers had a large payload and could dish out solid damage, but I was … hesitant in risking them unless an opportunity presented itself, after all even a half-decent flak wall could cripple an NTB squadron and ruin an attack run.

  “Sir, Honor has made it halfway through the first minefield. Her forces and Buckler Division have begun exchanging long range turbolaser and missile fire. Our side is more effective thanks to having the minefield mapped and rotating corvettes back when practical, but that’ll only last for so long.” Mi-Kus warns me.

  “Have Commodore Strom continue as he is. We’ll pull him and his back once she does something rash.” I order in turn.

  “Understood, sir.” Mi-Kus replies.

  I inhale deeply, then exhale slowly as I consider the tactical display. This was the slow pace and prodding of the opening moments of battle between equals. The time where everyone took a moment to consider one another, to analyze, to consider where to land the most devastating blow. Honor had moved the damaged Vanguard under Dodonna into the reserve alongside the Secutor.

  The Secutor … that would be problematic. We only had a single ship that could beat it in a one on one and did not like the chances of Benoni and the Sith’s Demise getting to Honor’s flagship without getting mauled by Imperials and Tectors. The Inexpugnables would likely be able to take on the Secutor together, mainly thanks to the Clone Wars refit they underwent to turn them into actual warships that theoretically could take on two Providence battleships each.

  Which brought me back to the weakpoints of the enemy formation. Their center consisted mainly of Tectors, Venators and most of the remaining Dreadnoughts. The northern and southern flanks had twenty Imperials each alongside five Venators, four Dreadnoughts and over a dozen Acclamators. Each of Honor’s Divisions also looked to have ten Carracks and ten Nebulons for point defense and escort duty.

  Seems my former mentor didn’t end up bringing that many escorts with her. Especially since almost all her Gozantis had been turned to slag recently. So maneuverability and skirmishing was firmly on our side. But would I be able to abuse it to the level where I would win? Doubtful. The anti-orbital weapons of Argai below would be useful, but how useful? Would the Separatist guns even be able to break an Imperial’s shields? Would they be able to break through their armor? I was … hesitant to make bets on such a thing, especially with so many lives on the line.

  “Sir, enemy about to break through the first minefield.”

  “Pull Buckler Division back fully and reintegrate them into the other divisions. I want Strom’s ship in the south, he’ll serve as the third in command there.” I order in turn.

  “Understood, sir.”

  Would we even be able to beat back the Imperials if they attempted a charge? They had mass and the heavy weapons to crush most ships. Yet … Honor would likely engage in a line battle, take advantage of her Imperials’ forward fire power. I frown. Unless Honor proved to be far more bark than bite, something so ridiculous that I almost laughed at the very thought, this was about to be a very bloody endeavor.

  Kota looked at the fleet assembled to throw back the Imperial thrust from the south. Sure, they all knew it was only the first, likely doomed to fail. But it would be good training for the forces present to rally against before Moff Therbon’s force rallying at Ringo Vinda would crash into Sy Myrth’s defenses.

  The Jedi releases his anxieties into the force, sharing the burden, as he takes a look at the force assembled. His 800th Squadron, headquartered on his Venator Liberation, Vice Admiral Hatha’s 108th Battlegroup and the Sy Myrthian’s 11th Forge Defense Battlegroup. In total, sixty ships of the line and sixty two light ships and pickets. Not an inconsiderable force. Ships in such number had been enough to besiege Separatist strongholds and counter siege Republic fortresses in the ebb and flow of the Outer Rim Sieges.

  And just as he had planned, the force guiding him all the while, the Imperial taskforce exits hyperspace above the sparsely inhabited world of Kile. A single Imperial at the formation’s center. Surrounding it was a dozen Venators, two Tectors, twenty Dreadnoughts twenty Acclamators and four dozen light ships and pickets of various makes, though most of them were the ever prevalent Gozanti.

  “This is General Kota, ships of the 108th and 11th, begin your advance. My 800th will begin our maneuver in t-minus one hundred and twelve seconds.” The Jedi Master orders.

  “Understood, General Kota. May your maneuver bring as much profit as your Force predicts.” Vice Admiral Hatha, the temporary leader of both battegroups for this battle, replies.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Kota would freely admit his … limited skills in naval warfare. He had been a peacekeeper first and that usually involved fighting on the ground, protecting people, be they high ranking officials or the poorest of peasants. Until the Clone Wars he hadn’t ever been involved in a battle in space. Yet just because he had wholeheartedly thrown himself into fighting alongside his militia didn’t mean he did not study in preparation for an orbital, sub-orbital or stellar engagement.

  In the end, he had found the tactics used by Admirals Varth and Dericote the most logical. The Force had hummed in agreement when he had begun studying their battles and the battles of men who had inspired them during the of hours he dedicated to naval warfare each month. Using the orbital phenomena and various astrological objects as the basis for your planned tactics. Preparing ground carefully and methodically and luring ones enemy into as many traps as feasible, similar to a guerrilla on a planet’s surface.

  That was how he had found himself hiding behind Kile’s primary moon alongside the four battleships, four Dreadnoughts, a sole Acclamator, three MC40a light cruisers and nine Dornean gunships. Waiting in ambush to pounce on the Imperials once they had engaged Vice Admiral Hatha’s line of Separatist warships in long range combat, likely hoping to outgun them and force the Neimoidian to charge, something Kota had requested the former Confederate officer to do hold off on until his force was cresting the moon’s horizon, racing with all their might and using the large moon’s gravity to slinghsot them towards their foe.

  Kota watches as the tactical display reveals what he had hoped for. The Force has been true in its nudgings. It had advised him well and proven itself a true ally despite all that had happened in the last years. Kota exhales a sigh of relief as the final inklings of doubt about his longest ally disappear once more. They would likely be back, but for now at least, they were absent.

  “Time’s up, sir.” His Adjutant Captain reports, the man was a Rendili descendant from Mantan assigned to his ship from a Merchant Fleet posting to give him an appropriately experienced man to second and advise him in Navy matters. Kota may not be entirely pleased with his presence, but he had proven himself adequately competent so far.

  “Begin slingshot maneuver. Remember priority targets are the enemy’s engines, bridge shield generators and reactors. They shouldn’t be able to come about and face us head on, so keep close and avoid broadside engagements.” Kota orders.

  “Very good, sir.” The Adjunct replies before gesturing for a crewman to begin transmitting the orders.

  Twenty one warships of the Rebel Coalition put full power into their engines and begin racing along the atmosphere-less moon’s contours, held in orbit by the gravitational pull of the object, accelerating all the while. They begin cresting the final horizon to see a group of daggers and cigars exchanging fire with various Separatist warships. It looked like something out of the dying days of the Republic and it made Kota wish he could turn back the clock.

  “Begin adjusting firing solutions. Coordinate fire when possible and prepare missile tubes.”

  “Finish final preparations to launch strikecraft as well.” His Adjunct adds.

  “Closing fast, sir.” His Helmsman reports.

  “They’ve spotted us. Enemy fighters on intercept course. Looks like three wings worth.”

  “Surprising that they’d detach so many when they’re already under pressure from the droid fighters.” An Adjutant gives her two chits.

  “What other choice do they have?” The Adjunct replies, “They’re sitting ducks.”

  “About to enter max range.”

  “Slow our speed, launch strikecraft for interception and open fire!” Kota orders rapid fire.

  Turbolasers scream and ion cannons roar as various heavy munitions race towards the rears of the Imperial warships, crashing into them like waves upon a cliff. Various shields hold the first salvo from behind, likely having adjusted their shields to hold off any attempt from the Vulture and Hyena swarms to assault their engines.

  As strikecraft enter various dogfights, Vultures and V-Wings, Hyenas and Headhunters, Starchasers and Y-Wings, all fighting for supremacy as bombers attempt to make their runs and fighters intercept one another in defense of their mother-ships.

  Rebel firepower intensifies, pockmarking Imperial warships. Rear Admiral Immich was clearly floundering after finding herself surrounded and outgunned. Kota smirked at the enemy panic in the force. Their formation would collapse soon and the Rebels would pursue and finally gorge themselves on valuable salvage.

  Durasteel plates, heavy turbolaser batteries and heavy ion cannon turrets. All would be torn from the hulls of the Imperial warships while their electronics and sensors were scrapped from within. And all these vital materials would be used to increase the production rates for the Star Cruisers in need of retrofits and the development of new weapons of war to not only be equal to an Imperial Star Destroyer, but to surpass it.

  “Enemy formation losing cohesion.” His Adjutant confirms Kota’s premonitions.

  “Ah, victory.” Kota whispers in return as a Tector explodes in a conflagration of plasma and shrapnel, its reactor having gone critical.

  A heavy turbolaser smashes into our bridge as I continue to observe the tactical display. The line battle had begun and to nobody’s surprise we were slowly losing. Even with the missile firepower of our Hammerheads and Dreadnoughts it was clearly not enough to even out the magnitude of firepower forty Imperials, twenty Tectors and thirty Venators had. Honor’s Dreadnoughts weren’t helping either, local groups intermingled with the line of battleships concentrating their fire to force whatever cruisers were most annoying to the local commander to pull back slightly or else face the possibility of destruction.

  A flight of Imperial gray Headhunters race past the bridge, two Starchasers on their tail, firing their lasers all the while. Honor had used her fighter superiority to the fullest extent available to her once she had broken through the second minefield, taking the loss of a few pickets on the cheek in exchange for speedily closing distance and beginning the long range exchange of fire.

  “Fortress Emerald has target lock.”

  “Fire.” Commander Hursk orders, having taken over anti-orbital fire control for the southern Division.

  A moment later the fortress’s shields lower and a blast of super heavy turbolaser fire smashes into an opposing Dreadnought, breaking the ship in half and detonating its reactor. The first definite kill of our planetary weapons platforms, though how long it would last was another question. Once the smaller targets were gone we would be stuck exchanging fire with the enemy battleships and Star Destroyers. While the Venator’s weakpoints were well known by now, those of the Star Destroyers were not.

  I had been given some insights on the subject, primarily thanks to my commanding a Tector in the dying days of the Republic, but I would put my entire old paycheck on it that the Imperial class had removed at least a handful of the larger weakpoints used by the Separatists against the Tector.

  “We just lost the Mintooine’s Revenge.” An Adjutant mutters as a Recusant light goes dark on the tactical display.

  The northern front was proving to be where we were facing the most issues. We had concentrated quite a few Separatist warships there and that was proving to have been a mistake. Damn it all, I should have known better. It was the very warships we were facing now that weer purpose built to be better in every way to the warships I was using to hold them off.

  “Hail Benoni, Sykes and Baraka.” I order after a moment’s hesitation. We needed to adapt or die.

  “Diamond Fortress is ready.”

  “Hold them off,” Commander Hursk orders quietly, “We’ll wait for Quartz and Jasper Fortresses to be ready as well. I want to see if three will be enough to break a Tector. Coordinate for target locks on Tector Senth-seven.”

  “Understood, sir.” The comms officer replies.

  “Comms link established.” Commander Slas reports.

  “You’ve seen what I’ve seen then.” Benoni says sternly.

  “We need to threaten the north. An Inexpugnable isn’t scaring them enough. I would request you redeploy the Korriban’s Silence north while the Sith’s Demise moves to the center.” I order.

  “Agreed. I will begin moving her now.” Benoni says.

  “This transit will be risky.” Sykes cautions.

  “The Imps may very well pounce while the battlecruisers are in transit.” Baraka agrees.

  “A risk worth taking. Maybe we can convince Honor to try and pressure us elsewhere.”

  “She’s already pressuring us everywhere.” Sykes replies with a growl, his hologram shuddering for a moment as a heavy trubolaser impacts the Ruusan’s Folly’s shields.

  “The north most of all. Baraka, order the Sith’s Demise to the center now. This must be coordinated carefully.” Benoni orders.

  “Understood. Tides keep me.” Baraka grumbles.

  “I’ll see if I can do some more damage with my escorts. Make them think we’re more dangerous than we already look.” Sykes says.

  “Very well. Make haste, all of you.” I reaffirm before the holograms go out.

  I turn to face the tactical display again, the two massive battlecruisers already moving towards their counterparts’ post. Then I look at Honor’s position. She was already overwhelming us without her reserve. This was bad, very bad.

  “We need something to turn the tide.” I grumble.

  “Closest unoccupied force that could act as reinforcements are Slocum’s Wardens.” Mi-Kus suggests.

  “It’ll take them weeks to get here.” Not to mention Wyndigal was too important right now.

  “If we lose Argai we may have to recall them anyway.” Mi-Kus whispers to me.

  “If it comes to that, we’ll need everything.” I reply as I glare at the Secutor far behind the various Imperial warships.

  The Golans and old Banking Clan defense platforms weren’t in range yet. The current distance had been chosen for a reason. It would give the stations a chance to finish their calculations and prepare their final firing solutions as we integrate them into the line properly. But first we had to try and snatch more of the enemy strikecraft.

  “Fighter losses?” I ask.

  “Enemy has lost approximately five wings in strikecraft so far. We’ve lost three, mostly our scattered droids and green pilots.” Comes the reply from a Starfighter Corps Major.

  Not good enough, at this rate we’ll run out of strikecraft before Honor does.

  “Continue as previously planned. Try and lure enemy fighters into our flak. I know its risky, but its either try and fail or die anyway.” I order calmly, the Starfighter Corps officer nodding grimly as a reply.

  “Understood.” The man replies, tone grim in acceptance.

  “Jasper and Quartz report ready.”

  “Tector in sights?” Hursk asks.

  “Affirm.”

  “They sure?” He double checks.

  “Front row, third form the north in our operational area. All report target locked.” The comms officer double checks.

  “Fire.”

  Three super heavy turbolasers unleash their fire and it begins to race through the atmosphere until it crashes into the front of a certain Tector. Its shields crack and three large holes are punched into the ship, crippling it. It doesn’t go critical, but I can already tell it’s practically dead in space.

  “Target disabled.” A sensors officer reports.

  “Coordinate with fortresses in groups of three. Maybe we’ll be able to do some more damage this way.” Hursk orders.

  “Enemy continuing to push the north, sir.” Mi-Kus pulls me from my observing of the capable Adjutant Commander.

  “Fuck it. Begin pulling back to integrate our line with the defense platforms.” I order.

  “Understood, sir.” Mi-Kus replies before gesturing towards various officers to start relaying the order.

  “Burning retros.” The helmsman reports.

  We were losing slowly. Yet even if we won, it would be a victory to make Pyrrhus blush. I inhale, then exhale slowly, I could not, would not, allow defeatism to cloud my mind. Win or lose, history would know us to be right, no matter the cost. Even if it damned my soul.

  Depicting the first two phases of the Battle of Argai in 7960 C.R.C.

  Red = Rebel Coalition Forces

  Dark Gray = Imperial Retribution Fleet

  Yellow = Argai Surface to Orbit artillery range