“General Krugwolt’s secured the anti-orbital battery!” One of the comms officers barks in joy.

  “Took him long enough.” I say, a smile growing on my face. I had lost track of the overall battle while combating a number of enemy cruisers and corvettes. We’ve lost a third of our escorts and the Earldom proper had suffered far too much damage to her hull, not to mention loosing five sub-batteries. But it would do.

  “Time for our next phase. Give Krugwolt our primary targets now and then give his men free reign on secondary targets. Inform Rear Admiral Wessex the next phase is to begin.” I order as the first friendly shots emerge from the anti orbital battery, almost clipping our ship as they slam into one of the pesky, recently unshielded, Recusants, bisecting the ship in half, clearing our way.

  “Captain P’marik, bring us to the northern part of our main line, slowly. I want our friends down below to have a chance at knocking down some more ships and those pesky defensive installations.” I ask, receiving a nod of affirmation from the Pantoran.

  I turn over to the strategic display and feel a bloodthirsty smile overtake me. Faxe had encircled about half of Mintooine’s moon’s defenders and was slowly and methodically tearing them apart. The other half was suffering fire from the Moon’s anti-orbital battery while trying to link up with enemy reinforcements flying along the horizon towards the enemy’s north line.

  Enemy reinforcements were also skirting the horizon to our galactic south, pouncing on Commodore Hugh’s Unit Avarice. I ping Luis to commit his forces to the south. A breakthrough there could allow a counter attack on Dac while we are committed here, or worse, pounce on our rears.

  “We’ve got six Diamonds and a Recusant light pursuing us, sir. They’re keeping their distance, but they are peppering us with long range fire.”

  “Keep me posted on any sudden movements on their end. How’s our fighter screen looking?”

  “We’re down to about two wings, out of our three. Main line proper has lost about two wings worth, Commodore Strom and Senior Captain Sicato’s fighter strength is close to fully operable.” Comes the report.

  That wasn’t great. I needed to keep my fighter numbers up. Especially with having lost two corvettes and four Hammerhead cruisers. We were pushing towards the north, enemy cruisers hounding our heels and fighters and bombers skirmishing with our own fighters and bombers. I flinch as a Vulture explodes just in front of the bridge tower, a Headhunter soaring past the bridge in its wake, a duet of Tri-fighters pursuing it as it goes. I was finding I hated the exposed bridge towers more than ever as it shudders from something smashing against it.

  “Tighten our formation and get me Rear Admiral Wessex!” I bark

  “One moment, sir.” The comms officer requests.

  “We’ve got two heavy destroyers, four light destroyers, seven Diamonds, three limping Captors and a handful of corvettes combining forces dead ahead. They’re suffering fire from the Moon’s battery, but it looks like we’ll be taking the brunt of whatever they’ve got before Buckler or Arkania can support us.” Lieutenant Hursk reports.

  “Good, means it’ll be a fair fight.” I answer.

  “Sir, Rear Admiral Wessex is on.”

  “Up, now!” I bark again, turning towards the secondary hologram projector as the image of a lanky man in the same uniform as I appears before me.

  We exchange salutes as I start speaking: “Admiral Wessex, I am requesting a wing of fighters, a wing of bombers and any frigates, light cruisers and corvettes you can spare be sent to the enemy formation gathering at the north. With their support I should be able to shatter them when Unit Buckler arrives.”

  “I am already fighting half the enemy forces along the line, I am unsure if I can organize such a formation in our brawl.” Wessex objects.

  “I am relying on you to send in the formation as quickly as possible. If you are unable to do so, find someone who can.” I order quietly. Wessex snarls at my threat as he cuts the communique.

  “Was that wise, sir?” Senior Captain P’marik asks.

  “If he can’t scramble together two wings of strikecraft and a handful of escorts he doesn’t deserve his office.” I retort.

  “I am not questioning that, sir. I am merely saying it is unwise to cause a rift between officers during a battle.” He counters.

  “I am fully aware of that. He is too passive, too reliant on his superiors to order him about. Too busy acting as the rock for Kenobi to jump off of. I am giving him the motivation to commit.” I say, watching as a salvo of missiles leave the tubes of one of the remaining Hammerheads, the ordnance racing towards our gathering enemy.

  “Add our missiles to the salvo just fired off by the Fondor City.” I order and another volley of missiles emerges from the launch tubes of the other remaining Hammerheads. Soon joined by a full volley of heavy turbolaserfire. It smashes into the broadsides and prows of the gathering ships. Their return fire is sporadic and uncoordinated. Maybe the two officers of the forces had a rivalry?

  “Buckler has forced a surrender and has peeled off half her force to attack the enemy’s northern forces.” A comms officer interrupts.

  “I’ve got a light cruiser and three MC30c frigates alongside our two wings of fighter and bomber reinforcements on scope.” A sensors officer adds.

  “Good, Wessex does have something worth keeping about him.” I mutter as I watch a Diamonds class go up in flames from a missile breaking through her hull and hitting her ammunition storage.

  “Sir, our south has stabilized and begun pushing the enemy back, they’re giving ground quite willingly.” One of my Adjutants reports.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Advise Commodore Hugh and Senior Captain Sicato to be cautious. Don’t allow the enemy to pull them out of formation.”

  “Enemy ships still look quite disoriented, sir.” Someone pipes up.

  “Do they not have a good command structure?” I mutter in disbelief.

  “Sir, transmission from Rear Admiral Wessex.”

  “Put him on.” I mutter as I watch in confusion as the enemy ships simply hold still, sporadically firing at us, but barely moving for better angles. A couple Diamonds have adjusted and fired off a volley of missiles, but they are either picked off by our pickets or smash almost harmlessly against our shields.

  “Rear Admiral Dericote, I believe we have destroyed the enemy command ship. My analysts have also detected another flag officer present as well as the garrison’s second in command. I believe the two are fighting over who is in command. I recommend we skip our third phase and move onto the fourth.” My fellow Admiral recommends. I consider the information provided as the new ships join the formation, though nowhere as cleanly as I would have expected from a trained Fondorian crew.

  “Very well, I will attempt to destroy the enemy in the north while you push across the equator of Mintooine. Hold there until this hemisphere is secured and we have confirmation from General Krugwolt his men can begin the offensive towards the south polar icecaps to secure the final anti-orbital battery.” I order.

  “Very well.” He says, another volley of turbolaser fire smashing into the enemy ships, their returning fire slightly more effective as a few more ships adjust their positioning.

  “And Rear Admiral,” I begin as the man stops himself from cutting the transmission, “excellent job with getting me my reinforcements. I see why Kenobi uses you as a second so often. I will be sure to commend you in my report.”

  “Thank you, sir.” He says, snapping a salute, which I return. Soon enough his hologram disappears and I return to face the tactical display. If the enemy was in disarray I was doing everything right by pouncing upon them. I feel my blood pump as I watch another enemy Diamond go up in flames. Yes this would do well.

  Commodore Hatha was quite … disappointed in his situation. He had transmitted the information that Mintooine was under assault by an evenly numbered Republic force to the Senate, but they hadn’t thought it desperate enough to send anything to reinforce the fools in command. They thought the anti-orbital batteries and the fleet in orbit would be enough. Bah! What did they know?

  “How much longer until intercept?” He asks his tactical droid, the small Republic convoy dead ahead. Three isolated Pelta frigates and a duet of corvettes in the middle between two hyperspace egress points not far from Mintooine, his Providence baring down on them while his Munificents and Gozantis were busy holding position two jumps away from Mintooine.

  “Twenty seconds, sir.” The droid replies.

  “Go ahead and launch missiles when in range. Hold off on deploying fighters and bombers and await my order.” Hatha orders halfheartedly.

  There was little challenge in this. He was essentially following the letter of his orders from Mintooine. He was raiding ships in the Ash Worlds, the very edge of the Ash Worlds and with only his personal ship. His ‘Warprofiteer’ was a fine vessel and entirely wasted on this duty. How he missed the days where it was him in a Munificent raiding along the Perlimian, at least there the convoys had a decent number of defenders and weren’t stripped down to the barest of minimums.

  “Missiles away. I am also opening fire with our heavy turbolasers.” His droid says.

  “Yes, good.” He mutters. He was more or less ready for whenever the Senate, or the Council ordered him elsewhere. Probably back to Mintooine, either as reinforcements or to lead an evacuation, whichever was more practical.

  “Sir, incoming transmission from General Grievous.” A B1 says, interrupting his musings.

  Hatha stands up and gives the droid permission to bring up the holoprojection. Soon enough the intimidating presence of the Separatist Supreme Commander appears before him in holographic blue.

  He snaps a salute as the General coughs: “Commodore. I understand your ships are near Mintooine?”

  “Yes, sir.” he answers promptly.

  “We have lost all contact with the system, despite reconnecting with Admiral Simms shortly after your report. Our last transmission informed us of his death. You are to head to Mintooine now and take full command of whatever forces remain. You are permitted to abandon the world if necessary. We have evacuated the most important members of the world’s population and much of her industry in preparation. Bleed the enemy, make the loss of Mintooine more costly to the Republic than its acquisition could ever be.”

  “As you command, General.” Hatha says with a bow, hiding his smile as he speaks. He was only a few hours away, he could certainly salvage the situation. He finishes his bow to see the visage of the General gone.

  “Sir?” His tactical droid asks.

  “Bring us about, we’ll reconvene with my squadron at egress point Mintooine Spike three.”

  “What of the enemy convoy?”

  “Leave whatever is left of them, these orders take priority.” Hatha orders as he returns to his command throne.

  “As you command.” The droid mutters as his ship comes about and jumps into hyperspace. Yes this would do nicely.

  My Line has been pushing the enemy forces back, whoever was in command had finally marshaled the enemy defensive units near Mintooine’s polar south, our galactic east and stifled our advance. Meanwhile my Unit Earldom had pushed the northern forces into good angle for the Moon’s anti orbital battery to smash turbolaser blast after turbolaser blast into the Sep ships, Faxe’s Unit Buckler had kept my momentum, falling into formation with my unit like a well trained force.

  “Sir, enemy ships incoming.” Lieutenant Hursk reports calmly.

  “Numbers?” I ask mildly curious. First they pull back along the equator, then they advance again?

  “Five Diamonds, three Gozantis and a wing of fighters, if the scope’s right.” Comes my answer.

  I frown as I turn to the tactical display to get a better look. That was too much for a skirmishing force and not enough for an actual chance at breaking my flyin’ slug. Why would they do this?

  “Incoming missiles volley from the Diamonds.” Comes the report.

  “Our pickets will do well with them, pull our fighter screen back. We have plenty of time to rest and recuperate before our next push.” I order, before thinking of another thing, “How long will General Krugwolt need to begin the next assault?”

  “His staff hasn’t given us a clear answer. Apparently they took more casualties than originally anticipated and the General's been wounded.” Comes the reply to my question.

  “Pull the 12th Alsakan from the moon, they won’t do anything else there. Prepare to deploy our ground force reserves and detach a regiment’s worth of arms-men from the Earldom to assist in the next phase of the planetary invasion.” I order.

  “Sir, I do not believe detaching so many of my arms-men will be wise.” Senior Captain P’marik cautions

  “Well I don’t plan on allowing the enemy to board us.” I dismiss.

  “Very well, sir. I shall go and grab my security chief.” P’marik says before leaving the bridge.

  I can finally actually see the approaching missiles, their numbers diminished, but still racing towards my forces. Something was off about them. They looked too bulky. Too large to be conventional projectiles. In fact.

  “Kark, intensify forward firepower!” I bark, “Those aren’t missiles they’re boarding torpedoes!”

  “Oh shite!” Hursk yelps as I pull my slugthrower and open up the cylinder. All slugs, no buckshot, no fire, no bolos. I frown and swap out the fifth, seventh and after a moment of hesitation the third slugs for buckshot and place the now spare slugs into my spare clip.

  “We’ve got hits on the Duress, Sandgator’s Maw, and us!” Someone barks as the ship shudders under the impacts of the enemy boarding torpedoes.

  “Give me a sound off of the units!” I bark.

  “Unit Arkania reports five boardings.”

  “Unit Reveland reports two hostile boardings.”

  “Unit Avarice reports no successful boardings.”

  “Unit Little Revenge reports one boarding on the Acclamator one ‘Widow’s Wail’.”

  “Enact defensive measures now!” I bark. After that I turn to the tactical display and stare at it intently. Something was wrong. The enemy formation wasn’t taking advantage.

  “Sir, we’re reading multiple explosions throughout the secured docks and shipyards!” a senors officer shouts in surprise.

  “They wouldn’t.” I mutter as I take a look at the shipyards behind us. Maker they would. They’re destroying their shipyards. I can’t decide if I should be dismayed or impressed. That’s something I would do. I take a closer look. No ships were very close to any of the detonating space stations. The closest were our transports and the MedStar, which were still quite safely positioned outside the enemy blast radius. Though that was little consolation for the small detachments of navy arms-men and technicians that had been sent to secure the docks. They were certainly dead.

  “They pulled the trigger too late, could've nabbed the Earldom and a couple escorts if they'd done it earlier.” I mutter, even the debris wouldn’t do any damage, especially with Mintooine’s gravity pulling the scrap into the oceans.

  “Enemy skirmishing forces pulling back after we fired a long range salvo.” Lieutenant Hursk reports.

  “Enemy boarding forces on the Earldom have been pushed to a few isolated holdouts. Senior Captain P’marik has requested permission to void the compartments on this list to finish them off.” An Adjutant says, handing me a datapad as he speaks.

  I glance at it before answering: “I trust the Captain in knowing his ship better than I. He may do as he sees fit in this.” I permit.

  How much longer could I afford to wait? If the enemy primed the north polar shipyards they’ve certainly done the same to the southern ones. They were all within the range of fire for the south polar batteries. Maybe …

  I take control of the tactical display, manipulating it with skill from years of practice. Trying to find a way that could force the enemy’s hand. The Adjutants looked either curious or annoyed at me disrupting their work. I could have done this with secondary display, but where was the fun in that?

  “Sir?” Hursk eventually asks.

  “I think … I’ve got it.” I mutter. Yes that would do, “Contact the Unit commanders.”