Luckily nothing had changed for a couple hours and I ran back to my quarters as Mi-Kus took the bridge and I delegated local command to my Senior Captains so I could rest. I pushed the guilt deep into my feet and stomped down on it as I downed a couple sleep meds to knock me out. I had to remain calm and collected. I had to stay in the moment. R4 sat in her charging station next to my desk. I didn’t even feel my head hit the pillow.

  I get woken up by R4 hitting me repeatedly. I check my clock and see that I’ve slept for maybe four and a half hours, not great, but if my droid woke me up there must be something wrong. I don’t bother changing into a new uniform and run to the bridge with my officer’s cap wedged between my arm and torso while I put on my gloves.

  I emerge on the bridge to see the entire crew there.

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  Mi-Kus turns to me to answer: “Sir, multiple sections sized forces entering system.”

  “Locations, people!” I bark before turning towards my Junior Captain, “You didn’t think to wake me?”

  “It seemed practical when there was only one force approaching, I was about to order someone to wake you when you barged in, sir.” Mi-Kus says, to witch I nod in understanding.

  “One from galactic south, looks like they jumped from Lothal. One from our west, probably made the final jump from Pinperu and one from our east, probably a Mintooine defense section, sir.” Sergeant Welder calls out.

  “Scramble fighters, the enemy might start more offensive action.” I order. If it was a Mintooine defense section now would be the perfect time to make an assault on the fortress world of the Free Dac Volunteers. Damn High command for not getting me the ships I need for the theater.

  “Group south exiting. Three Dreadnought class heavy cruisers, three Acclamator class cruisers, an IPV-1 System Patrol craft and a squadron of V-19s, they’re abandoning their hyperspace rings.” One sensors officer says.

  “Group West exiting. Force, three Recusant class light destroyers, four Munificent class cruisers, six Gozanti class corvettes.” Sergeant Welder reports.

  “That won’t help with our communications.” Mi-Kus complains.

  “Group east exiting. One Arquitens, five Consular class corvettes, one CR70 corvette.” Another sensors officer reports.

  “Group south identifies as 360th Outer Rim Section, our planned long term reinforcements and the Lothalite Planetary Defense Unit.” Sergeant Slas reports.

  “Group east reports identification as 503rd Light Outer Rim Section. They apologize for their late arrival, they were deployed on patrol duty during our last day in Munto Codru, they needed time to reassemble.” A different comms officer reports.

  “Accept their apologies and inform them of their role as rapid response units three and four. I want the 360th to split. Have their Dreadnoughts join the front line and the Acclamators join our back line, they are to keep their fighters in reserve until practical. Move the V-19s onto fighter rotation and the IPV to a picket role within the front line, direction North.” I order.

  “Should we adjust the line’s formation?” A comms officer asks.

  “No, we need to continue to consolidate, up our probing attacks, begin formation rest for rapid response unit one and pull them into the point defense of our back line.” I order instead.

  “Sir large enemy fighter and bomber formations heading towards the Rendili Dreadnought Black Whale-fish.” A sensors officer reports.

  “Size?” I ask.

  “Five squadrons of the new Tri-droids, five squadrons of hostile Z-95s eight squadrons of Hyenas and two reserve squadrons of Vultures.” The Ensign reports.

  “Scramble our new fighters and the local patrols. I want interceptions asap, divert two DP20s from their rest to assist.” I order.

  “Sir, two enemy frigates following up from the fighter advance.” Sergeant Welder says.

  “They’re trying to punch a hole into our formation.” I say, in astonishment. That Commander Simmes must have gotten tired of waiting for me to make a major mistake.

  “Sir, first interception begun, Black squadron followed by DP20 Askalon half an enemy squadron broken off for counter interception.” The original Ensign reports.

  “Have them punch a hole for further forces.” I order, then a stray thought, “Where are our Clone detachments?”

  “Hope Company is on rest in Dac’s Revenge. 501st is still divided throughout the front line and Resolute in case of hostile boarding actions. 99th’s Clone detachments are also on rest, but in their respective ships.” Comes the Reply from Mi-Kus.

  “How long is their rest?” I ask.

  “They can be deployed now, but they have another half hour of rest and resupply on schedule.” My Junior Captain answers.

  “Let them have their rest. I still need to draw up plans for the next boarding actions.” I say.

  “Sir, enemy fighters and bombers have reached Black Whale-fish, her shields have failed and frigate payload has hit. She’s listing and reports multiple hull breaches!” Sergeant Slas reports.

  “Pull in more fighters, an attempted evac now would doom too many escape pods. The Captain is to hold firm until local fighter superiority is achieved.” I order.

  “Sir, we’re receiving a repeating transmission from the Core.” Sergeant Slas says.

  “Keep it running and have someone decipher it. Tell me whenever we actually have the full message.” I reply.

  “Sir, communications with the surface are down.” A different comms officer says.

  “Damn, the extra Munificents must be putting an even harsher strain on our comms than we expected.” Mi-Kus says.

  I look at the tactical display for an inkling of an enemy weakness. Their lines were a mix of Recusants and MC75s, they were shorter than ours, but with the frigates in patrol alongside swarms of fighters they had a better chance at punching a hole into us. They thankfully only held three Golan I platforms, two in the north, though they weren’t positioned very well for anything they could do now. I suppose if I managed to dislodge the enemy from their current northern line they could slow any further advance. Then the one in the south, protecting their foothold there alongside half a dozen frigates, four Munificents and two MC75s. And if the Munificents were using their comm jamming systems, they may be more vulnerable.

  “Pull the Duro’s Son, the three recently arrived Acclamators and the entire 503rd light south. Move the Resolute alongside us south on a ten minute delay, while moving the Mon Cala’s Joy forward to provide supporting fire from below and behind the front line, direction north, same delay. Remind her Captain of the mines. I want eight squadrons of bombers, including Bastard Squadron and seven, no better make it eight squadrons of fighters, including Little Squadron. I want us, the Duro’s Son and the Mon Cala’s Joy in arrowhead formation, the Joy takes the center. I want the Acclamators on the Joy’s bridge elevation behind and the 503rd as the vanguard, spear formation, Arquitens on point. Disperse the fighters throughout the first two lines and the bombers through the second and third.” I order.

  “Sir, are we committing to an assault south, or is this a bluff? I don’t think we can afford risking our line when the enemy can commit the undamaged and unclassified Lucrehulks to the battle at almost any-” Mi-Kus starts to ask concernedly.

  “Sir, we’ve lost the Black Whale-fish.” Sergeant Slas interrupts.

  “Divert one of the DP20s and any squadron’s worth of fighters to begin escape pod escort and screening. The rest are to pursue the enemy until they exit our point defense area.” I order.

  “Sir, if we’re pressing a southern attack I do not think we should commit so many forces, especially the Little Revenge, you’re the most senior officer here, sir.” Mi-Kus finishes.

  “Which is why we will be committed to it, Junior Captain.” I reply.

  “Alright, but isn’t diverting this many fighters a risk?”

  “It very much is, Mi-Kus, but I think that if we can knock out even two of those southern Munificents we might be able to re-establish acceptable contact with the surface forces.”

  “Sir, we’ve finished decrypting and getting a transcript from the transmission. It isn’t full and we’re missing multiple words and details, but we won’t be able to get anything else, sir.” A comms officer says.

  “Send a returning confirmation on loop and ping it from ship to ship every couple minutes for half an hour. Put the recording up.” I order.

  The tactical display shrinks as a corrupted depiction of Jedi General Kenobi appears and speaks: “Forces --- the Republic -------- over and on Mon -----. Continue -- hold firm. I ----- ------ to ----- firm, we have ---- allies from -----------. They should arrive in ------ -------. May the ----- be ---- ----.”

  The transmission cuts out.

  “Any clue who they could be sending?” Mi-Kus ask into the room.

  “I don’t think there’s another aquatic Clone platoon, let alone another regiment.” I say.

  “Could be additional forces for the orbital engagement, or more forces to secure the archipelagos.” Mi-Kus suggests.

  “Let’s hope it’s further orbital support.” I say as the Little Revenge begins to rotate towards Mon Cala’s southern docks and shipyards.

  It takes a few minutes, but as the fighting on the front line ends I hear Sergeant Welder speak: “Temporary engagement group in position, sir.”

  “Advance. Hold fire until in medium range, then fire at will.” I command and the thirteen ships and about one hundred and sixty fighters and bombers move forward towards our foes.

  “Enemy fighters incoming.”

  “Break off three corvettes to engage alongside the first line fighters, the rest will continue the advance.” I order.

  “Fighters have engaged Vultures and hostile Headhunters.” Sergeant Slas reports.

  “Enemy fire incoming.” Sergeant Welder warns.

  “Hold until we have good locks.” I order as the first turbolasers smash into our shields.

  “Shields holding firm throughout.” A tech reports.

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  “We lost a couple fighters to lucky turbolaser shots.” Sergeant Slas says.

  “We have locks.” The weapons adjutant reports.

  “FIRE!” I bellow and dozens of turbolaser batteries obey my call and unleash a precise volley towards our foes.

  “Impacts. 80% hit rate, shields on Munificent hard port down.” A sensors officer reports.

  “Below what I’d have liked, but it will have to do.” I say as I look at the tactical display. A couple enemy ships had gathered together to the north. It could very well mean an attack on the main line.

  “I want the Arkania to assume position same level as the Resolute, about halfway down the line from her. Her objective is the same as the Resolute’s.”

  “About twenty enemy fighters have broken through.”

  “Divert Little Squadron to deal with them.” I order.

  “Sir, they’re outnumbered two to one.” Mi-Kus objects.

  “You’re right, they’ll only need half of Little Squadron to deal with them, but better safe than sorry.” I reply.

  “If you insist, sir.” Mi-Kus replies.

  Another series of volleys are exchanged between the two forces, the Republic ships following behind their shots. Turbolaser fire smashes against the shields and hulls of booth sides. The far portside Munificent suffering a series of heavy impacts on her frontal armor belt.

  “Duro’s Son suffering shield failure.” Sergeant Slas reports.

  “Hold firm, they’re to slow their advance slightly.” I order.

  “Enemy fighters down to about a dozen stragglers.” A comms officer reports.

  “All fighters and corvettes are to rejoin formation. Bring up our bombers one line each.” I order.

  “As you order, sir.” Mi-Kus says.

  The inner starboard Munificent’s shields break as three heavy turbolaser blasts smash into her bridge and armor skirt. She starts listing towards the Golan I platform. An idea slowly taking form.

  “Direct more fire to cross the axis and hit the listing Munificent into the Golan I on our starboard. Other fire is to adjust to other targets. This would be the time to launch any high explosive missiles.” I order.

  I hear a slightly distant “Yes, sir.” from the crew who need to pass the order along. One of the MC75s was quite close to that Golan I as well. Something worth keeping under consideration.

  “Sir, we’ve lost the Amarillo IX”

  “Press on.” I order despite seeing the drifting hulk of the Consular detonate as her reactor depressurizes and fails.

  “Sir, we’re picking up some garbled communications from the surface, some of the Munificents must be redirecting their power from their jamming systems.” Sergeant Slas says.

  “Have an Ensign and some droids try to decipher anything that might be important, if the 10th or Dac City need reinforcements I want to know so I can order their deployment.” I order and Slas taps a senior Ensign to take on my task as another half dozen turbolasers smash against our shields just in front of the bridge.

  “You know I never thought it would be a bad thing to have the Little Revenge be a bit more distinguishable.” Mi-Kus quips.

  “Well, the enemy and our allies don’t necessarily need to see us visually, but you must admit a black scorched hull blends quite well into the vacuum.” I reply.

  “Wonder why we don’t do that with more of our ships.” Mi-Kus wonders as another exchange of fire pushes the starboard Munificent dangerously close to the Golan I platform. Our own ship shuddering from the return fire thudding against our shields.

  “Probably the paint costs.” I reply as another series turbolaser volleys are exchanged.

  “Yet we have enough budget for the Republic red, white and that yellow the open circle fleet is so enamored with.” Mi-Kus says as the turbolasers finally push the Munificent into the Golan I platform. Her shields overstretch, trying to embrace the Separatist warship, but shatter as they overextend. The Munificent returns the attempted embrace by smashing into the weakened defense platform, carving into her as the impacts of the turbolaser fire push her onwards.

  “Must be the national pride then.” I say. Though it shouldn’t be very difficult to loot some of the blues the Seps were using for some other colors.

  “Clearly so, sir.” Mi-Kus replies as the Golan platform’s reactors are exposed to the void, are punctured by a piece of debris from the Munificent and finally fail, enrapturing the inner rooms of the station in flames until the explosion rips her apart, chunks flying in all directions. A larger piece thudding against the shields of the slightly too close MC75.

  “Concentrate fire on the starboard MC75.” I order.

  “Sir, the Duro’s Son has suffered multiple hull breaches. The primary reactor is in danger of voiding. Senior Captain’s requesting formal permission to go down with the ship.” Sergeant Slas says.

  “I want her and all of her crew off that ship.” I counter order.

  “Escape pods are launching.” Sergeant Welder says a moment later.

  “Is the Captain aboard?” I ask.

  “No, sir. She’s remained on the bridge.”

  “Cowardly, railgoing, lizard fucking, puppy kicking, sleemo kissing, travel hating, arschloch!” I spit out.

  “Sir!” Mi-Kus says.

  “I want her out of her ship or I’m gonna personally demand a posthumous demotion! No fucking officer gets to kill themselves for Navy honor.” I say.

  “Aren’t you doing the same, sir?” A tech quietly asks.

  “I don’t plan to loose, Ensign. She’s already given up.”

  “Direct hit to the Duro’s Son’s bridge.” I hear Sergeant Welder say quietly.

  “Idiotin.” I mutter.

  “Sir, another group of enemy fighters incoming. Looks like a full mixed fighter and bomber wing.” Sergeant Welder reports.

  “Deploy all, but two squadrons of fighters to intercept. Hold our position.” I order.

  “Fighters engaging.” Sergeant Slas reports.

  Then one of the other comms officers pipes up: “Sir enemy pressing our center north line.”

  “Hostile MC75, starboard suffering major damage to bridge and frontal armor belt.” Sergeant Welder says.

  “Finish her off, pull the Arquitens back for escort and point defense support of the Resolute.” I order.

  I finally turn towards the tactical display to confirm the report from the comms officer. The Seps have committed three Munificents and three Recusants alongside all six Gazontis and, Force, two, no two and a half wings of fighters and a wing of bombers.

  “Deploy all reserve fighters, pull our corvettes from the attack to support the line. Broadside actions are to be shunned, I want our ships to remain in formation, unless there is no other option. Keep the Guard Hound in reserve, in fact pull the Acclamators back to join the back line for fighter repair and resupply and long range fire support. If any Clone units are not roused, rouse them and prepare for imminent boarding actions, their commanding officers have liberty to begin them when found practical and with fighter support. The rest of our unit will begin a slow retreat, I don’t want the enemy to pounce on us.” I order.

  The remaining corvettes peel off as the Acclamators begin to come about, all the while the fighters continued their dogfights and the turbolasers smashed into shields and hulls, armored plates and viewports alike.

  “Shields can only take another hit or two!” A tech shouts.

  “We’ll hold until the others have finished exiting effective range.” I demand.

  “Sir, enemy MC75 going down.” A sensors officer reports.

  “Enemy fighters are breaking off pursuit. They’re pulling back.” A different sensors officer adds.

  “Pull us back and begin re-calibrating our shields.” I order.

  “Sir, I think I’ve gotten something out of the comms chatter from the surface.” The senior comms Ensign interrupts.

  “One moment, Pull our fighters and bombers back, only two squadrons of fighters as our rearguard and a squadron of bombers for emergency point defense. The rest are to rejoin the front line, if they aren’t due for repairs or refueling. Now, Ensign.” I finish.

  “There’s multiple bits of chatter about moving civilians further down to prisons and labor camps.”

  I feel my mood darken as I tap my holster. After a moment I reply to the new information: “Keep an ear to it. Nothing we can do about it now.”

  “Sir, just picked up an emergency request for reinforcements at Archipelago City near the capitol!” The senior Ensign barks.

  “Deploy the third battalion of the Halla Volunteers. Divert a squadron of fighters and two squadrons of bombers for escort and ground support. They’re permitted to stay in the skies as long as they have munitions and decent fuel reserves for.” I order.

  “Sir, they’re breaking through the line, they’ve taken out the MC75 Tidal Wave and the Rendili Dreadnought Lost Humor alongside one of our DP20s.” Sergeant Slas says.

  “Casualties?” I ask, then before I forget, “Enemy losses?”

  “One Munificent, though the other ships have taken light damage and enemy fighter and bomber strength down 39.5% of their original advance.” Sergeant Welder reports.

  “Escape pods were successfully launched from the Tidal Wave and our DP20, but there were multiple electrical failures on the Lost Humor, only a handful of pods managed to launch.” Sergeant Slas reports.

  “Divert two corvettes and bomber squadrons to escort them to safety.” I order immediately.

  “Enemy is targeting the pods?” Sergeant Welder says, confusion and fear mixed into his voice.

  “They’re WHAT!?” I shout.

  “Multiple fighters have engaged our escape pods, we’ve lost seven so far from direct fire.” Welder clarifies his voice still filled with abject terror.

  “Maker on high.” I mutter. What kind of an idiot would order this kind of escalation?

  “Sir?” Mi-Kus prods, his voice also filled with fear.

  I remain silent, if I divert more fighters and corvettes to protecting the pods I could risk the entire engagement. If I don’t I’m dooming hundreds of men, helpless soldiers. My soldiers.

  “Sir!” Mi-Kus prods again.

  “All fighters in engagement have new maximum priority order, protect the escape pods. Intercept any and all hostile fighters making a run for them. All corvettes are on picket duty for the other ships, scrap our rear guard, deploy them to the melee!” I snap out, feeling a hot rage boiling under my skin.

  “I’ve got a small cluster of Separatist escape pods on my scope, sir.” A nervous sounding sensors officer reports.

  “I will hold myself to the standards I expect of my enemy, Ensign.” I spit out.

  “I have two squadrons of Hyenas pursuing us from the south, sir.” A different sensors officer reports.

  “Shields?” I ask.

  “Up to 20.9%, sir.” The tech reports.

  “We’ll take the hit, prepare to intercept enemies after their run. Rotate the batteries of the Arquitens and our stern batteries, let’s not give them a free pass.” I order.

  “Shields are down on the Starfish and Arkania and Pride of Toong’l.” Sergeant Slas says.

  “Tighten the line and see if we can move any Y-Wings to provide point defense support.” I order.

  “Incoming!” Sergeant Welder barks.

  “BRACE!” Mi-Kus and I shout as the first proton bombs smash against our rear shields.

  The explosives shake the ships. Luckily no one falls over as the Hyenas fly passed the viewing ports on the bridge. I see one get nicked by a laser blast, causing the droid fighter to swirl into a different Hyena. The two explode on impact.

  “Shields down, sir.”

  “Enemy bombers lost eight, scratch that. Enemy bombers lost ten craft.” A sensors officer adds.

  “Continue point defense fire, we’ll whittle them down.” Mi-Kus orders.

  “We’ve secured over half of the escape pods, the others are still in danger, but they’re making their way to the closest docks or capitol ship.” Sergeant Welder says.

  “Keep up the pressure.” I say.

  “Enemy bombers coming for another run. Down to eight.” A sensors officer says.

  “Make that seven.” The head gunnery officer corrects.

  “Sir, six frigates approaching Golan I Salmon-Bull.” Sergeant Slas says.

  "Shields are back, but weak."

  “Divert local forces to support. It’ll give the enemy an opening between the line, but we sho-” The bridge shakes as the Hyenas fire another round of proton bombs, which detonate against the shields, “We should be able to plug it with the Mon Cala’s Joy.” I finish.

  “Bombers are gone, surprised they even got that many bombs off.” Mi-Kus says.

  “Shields down again, sir.” The tech says.

  “Keep cycling the shields, I won’t risk the ship with anything less than 45% at this point.” I order.

  “Sir, enemy cruiser force seems to be pulling back.” Mi-Kus says.

  I turn to the tactical display and indeed the remaining Recusants and Munificents are starting to pull back towards the Separatist line. What was I missing? They had managed to deal substantial damage to the best defended part of the line! Was this a probing attack? Why would the enemy commander commit so many forces to a probing attack and why not commit when the attack seemed to be going so well?

  An explosion on the tactical display and one of the Recusants that were pulling back goes gray. I frown. I was missing something. Was the enemy expecting further reinforcements? Were they expecting reinforcements so soon? No, if they were they would have pressed the attack harder. I take a deep breath as the Little Revenge passes through the southern part of the line and rejoins the back line while the Mon Cala’s Joy moves to the west to support against the Separatist frigate attack.

  “I don’t see it.” Mi-Kus says.

  “I don’t either.” I reply. I tap R4 to rotate the display to a different axis and continue to frown as I fail to see any major changes caused by the retreat of the Separatist attack. I tap R4 again, which causes her to booth sigh and rotate the tactical display back to it’s usual configuration. I start circling the display slowly until I am standing just behind the Separatist back line.

  “Rewind the tactical display to when we began our return and speed it up.” I ask and a tech begins rewinding the display.

  I watch as our ships pull back from the southern advance as I start tapping my holster. I lower my head to get a better view of the angle we had moved at.

  “Hmm. Slow it down now.” I ask. There the enemy has started to pull back.

  “Back thirty seconds, realtime.” I order. There. Our angle would be perfectly aligned to make a move towards the western part of the lines. The part that was looking a tad weak from this angle. In fact that part of the lines only had three Separatist frigates and the damaged Providence, with maybe two frigates that could respond in a practical amount of time and behind that, the first Separatist Lucrehulk. Not to mention the Mon Cala’s Joy also still moving towards that grouping of enemy ships.

  “Interesting. Loop it from last time request to the beginning of the enemy retreat.” I mutter.

  “Sir?” Mi-Kus asks as he moves to reposition himself next to me to get a better view of what I was seeing.

  “If we had continued our trajectories here, instead of turning as we did, we would have had the Little Revenge an Arquitens and a Venator barreling down towards a mauled Providence and three to five frigates.”

  “Not great odds, sir, but we’ve faced worse, especially if the Mon Cala’s Joy was diverted too.”

  “They also didn’t commit any fighters to the probe, which could mean they have less fighters than we had thought.” I say.

  “Should we adjust the enemy forces in the tactical display?” The tech in charge of the tactical display asks.

  “No, we’ll continue to assume the enemy fighter support is at its maximum based off of our prior estimates. Pull our fighters into their local hangars for rest repair and refueling, let’s not press our luck with a pursuit.” I order.

  “Sir enemy frigates pulling back.” Mi-Kus says as I continue to look at the looping tactical display.

  “Good, reform the line and pull the Venators to the back line, though keep the current level. We’ll prepare multiple simultaneous probing attacks for when the fighters and bombers have had their rest.” I take a look at the chronometer and sigh. Looks like my shift was about to start, “Speaking of, get your scheduled rest people. I’ll be back in a minute. I need some caf and a ration bar.”

  I receive a nod from Mi-Kus as I take a short walk to the bridge adjacent kitchenette. I pour myself a cup of caf and grab a ration bar from the storage unit and return to the bridge while biting into the bar of processed hardtack. It looks like a good part of the crew have returned to rest.

  “Times like these where I wish we also used droids.” I mutter as I take a sip of caf to wash out the taste of dry biscuit.

  “Would certainly help.” Mi-Kus replies as he heads out of the bridge to get his rest.

  I study the tactical display. The line was holding despite the enemy attack. I scanned the Separatist northern line for any weaknesses. There were a couple MC75s that looked a tad out of place, but the surrounding ships could easily support them if I pressed them there.

  I look at the Separatist southern line. Definitely weaker Hardly worth calling a line at this point. Definitely unable of aggressive action without handing over the southern shipyards and docks over to us in the long run. Though if they managed to time an offensive on both ends it would certainly damage us.

  “Sergeant Slas, see about jamming any communications between the Separatist north line and the southern shipyards. I’d rather not let the enemy act on the pincer we’re in.” I order.

  “Yes, sir.” My Sergeant replies.

  There were a couple outlying positions as well. The isolated Golan I ‘Silver Anchovy’ is in Republic hands, but could easily fall to a Separatist attack. Why hadn’t they attacked it yet? It only had a mixed squadron of fighters and bombers and would be relatively easy to take or destroy, finishing the blockade. I walk to the enemy’s side and see what I had almost missed. I had the second rapid response unit relatively nearby. It would only take a dozen minutes at most for them to enter a range to give supporting fire, never mind their ability to cut between any attack and the Separatist northern line, threatening a counter pincer from my western line.

  I move to another contested point. A small shipyard complex roughly between the primary docks and shipyards and the southern ones, though separated from booth by a wide margin and with only the shipyard’s own defense turrets providing defensive fire. The Separatists had an MC75 alongside four MC30c frigates fighting against the shipyard’s defenders. A boarding action had been attempted and rebuffed according to what I was reading from the remaining numbers of the defenders. Not much I could do for them now. My pilots needed rest and I was … unwilling to risk a rapid response unit against a battleship and her escorts, even if they didn’t have any fighter support, something I highly doubted.

  I would refrain from pushing now. I would keep our forces close and keep a rapid response unit a reasonable distance from the Silver Anchovy to keep the Separatist pincer from turning into a blockade. I need to figure out how to expand the range from the Golan platforms without them needing to strain their minimal, slow and easily detectable engines. I suppose I could ram the Golan I platforms with an Acclamator each, but that would only work for three of them and could cause decent damage to all vessels involved. I sigh as I fully scratch the idea, they would see the Acclamators accelerate for a ramming maneuver or see them position themselves behind the Golans. It would be too predictable.

  “Keep vigilant.” I mutter to myself.