Hatha’s eyes were widening in shock as he watches Dericote’s formation smash through the last defensive lines he had planned on providing against him. He had almost finished the evacuation! Dragoos had died in attempt to slow Dericote’s northern force, but the fucking Fondorian had simply smashed his ships into the final rearguard and engaged them in a brawl while his fighters and bombers ran amok through the trio of defensive platforms.

  “Sir, our northern rearguard has been defeated. What are your orders?”

  Hatha considers his options. He wouldn’t break off the evacuation. He couldn’t live with himself if he did. His eyes flick between the south and north. The south was doing better, but not by much. The anti-orbital battery forcing the enemy from pursuing his forces more doggedly.

  “How much longer on the evacuation?” He asks his tone even despite the chaos.

  “Approximately a quarter hour until the final ship has evacuated all personnel from the administrative center. Another half hour on top of that until complete evacuation.”

  “Divert half of the center to secure the escape of our transports. Deploy my squadron and the rest of the center to the north. I will hold Dericote. We will buy time.”

  “But sir, it will cost us much more in ships and material to save the few thousands remaining. I calculate it would be better to preserve our forces and assist any guerrillas with supply runs.” His tactical droid advises.

  “I will not force a people into a fight. They will evacuate and we will assist them!” Hatha barks at the droid, “Now bring my ship about and get me an arrowhead formation of the center’s Providence dreadnoughts!”

  “As you command, sir.” The droid says, its voice in a stale monotone.

  Dericote was getting too close to the transports. Suddenly the Neimoidian knew what he had to do.

  “Full speed ahead on our northbound force’s engines. All available power to them.”

  “Sir?”

  “We must keep Dericote away from the transports.” Hatha orders.

  “Transport ships dead ahead, sir.” Lieutenant Hursk reports.

  “In range?” I ask curiously.

  “No sir, a couple dozen clicks out.” Is the answer.

  I ponder the situation a moment. We had taken a couple bad hits against the enemy’s last rearguard action. The Lucrehulk had broken the Earldom’s shields and the battlecruiser was in dire straights. But I had to keep her in the fight. There were still three enemy Providence class dreadnoughts that had been kept in reserve until the enemy had deployed their full force against me.

  “Two Providence class dreadnoughts, a duet of Providence class battleships, a Recusant heavy destroyer and eleven Diamonds approaching from the south.”

  “Commodore Hatha’s squadron has made an interception course for us, sir.”

  This was getting dangerous. That made twenty four ships of the line, two of which could likely take the damaged Earldom in a brawl. Not to mention the corvettes, frigates and whatever fighters Hatha had scrounged up and hidden in the shadows of his other ships. I look at my battered detachment. A battlecruiser, the Constellation, five Venators, five Dreadnoughts, all model threes, five Hammerhead cruisers, nine Acclamator ones, three Acclamator twos, nine frigates, twenty one corvettes and about ten wings worth of fighters and bombers.

  I certainly held the advantage in tonnage, but my ships were certainly more damaged. I had to even the playing field a bit more. I look at the terrain in front of us. Open space, Mintooine to our nine, down at an angle of about twenty degrees, maybe twenty two. No terrain advantages. Any adhoc adjustments of the formation would need to be done now, or else we’d be caught mid maneuver.

  “Bring up our heavy cruisers and Acclamator twos to the front line. Deploy all fighters in reserve and prepare the Earldom for evacuation, I’ll be giving the order shortly.” I begin ordering. The Earldom wouldn’t survive this battle. Not if what I was planning would work.

  “Which ship will take command, sir?” P’marik asks, his face stone cold.

  “We’ll attempt to rendezvous the bridge crew,” I hesitate. The Arkania was tested and I knew her capabilities better than the other Venators. Then a grin grows on my face as I see a ship right beside us. I point at my next command ship, “there.”

  Hatha was confused. The Earldom had launched multiple escape pods, said pods being snapped up like pellets for hungry grubs by the escorting craft, as it soared directly towards the middle of his formation. It seemed overly premature for a ship which still had most of its armored hull intact, even if there were a few holes and a handful of missing batteries.

  “Enemy ships entering missile range. Enemy long range fire has landed a few hits on our cruisers.” His droid says.

  “You may fire at will.” He mutters, still mildly confused, “Prepare anti-missile countermeasures.”

  “Missiles away.” His Tactical droid reports. Over two hundred missiles racing towards Dericote’s forces. Hatha’s heavy turbolasers would need a bit longer, their inferior tibana gas shortening their range in comparison to their Republic counterparts.

  In return a volley of Republic heavy turbolaser fire soars towards his ships. His Warprofiteer anchoring the planetside flank being spared from most of the incoming fire. His eyes spot something out of place. The Praetor class battlecruiser wasn’t firing at an optimal rate, never mind accurately. As if its guns were being manned by the bare minimum in crew.

  “Droid, get me the current route of the battlecruiser identified as Earldom.” Hatha orders.

  “The battlecruiser appears to be aiming for the gap in between our dreadnoughts ‘Mintooine’ and ‘Senator Tikkes’. Though it does appear to be listing slightly towards the ‘Senator Tikkes’ on our portside.” The droid answers.

  The Separatist heavy turbolasers return fire as the missiles smash against the Earldom, her shields failing under the harsh bombardment. The turbolaser exchange is far more spread out. His ships taking the fire on their shields, while a few Republic cruisers buckle under the pressure. The ships get closer and the mainstay of any armada, the medium turbolaser batteries open fire on the enemy ships.

  Hatha’s eyes narrow as he notices the Earldom shifting more than it had been previously. Torbolaser fire had torn off bits of the Praetor’s armor, but its course was set and the ship was accelerating. The Neimoidian’s eyes widen in shock as he jumps from his command throne.

  “EVASIVE ACTION! ORDER THE SENATOR TIKKES TO COMMIT EVASIVE ACTIONS NOW!” He barks.

  “Transmitting.” The B1 on comms reports. As Hatha nervously fiddles with his hands. He can already tell it will be too late. The Praetor was too close, peeling ahead of the rest of the Republic formation as it picked up speed.

  The dreadnought’s Captain must see it! Hatha was sure of it. He … the Providence class dreadnought wasn’t moving and the Praetor was getting closer. Hatha watches on in horror as the diamond shaped wedge pierces into the hull of the Separatist warship and like a blade slashing against a spearshaft. He doesn’t need any readouts to know the dreadnought’s shields have shattered as the ship finally tries to escape the blade-like battlecruiser. Finally, halfway through the ship, the Praetor pulls away and turns towards the ‘Mintooine’, about to recreate its previous attack with its mostly undamaged portside.

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  “What … what is the situation on our evacuation efforts?” Hatha asks as he tries to gather his thoughts into something useful. Why would Dericote sacrifice a ship, when it surely could have been used more effectively? Unless the Earldom had suffered far more damage than Hatha had thought and if that was the case, how damaged was the rest of Dericote’s forces?

  “Surface evacuation of administrative personnel has finished. We have approximately twenty minutes left on the civilian evacuation.”

  “Can we pull back and still protect the evacuation efforts?” Hatha asks as the Earldom finishes sheathing itself within the rear third of the Mintooine.

  “We can pull back ten clicks, but the evacuation route would be right behind us and susceptible to enemy fire.”

  “Then we stay here and fight. Give me a situation report from the Mintooine and Senator Tikkes!” He barks, falling back into his training. This may not be the pirate forces he had trained on, or the Republic convoys he prayed on, but this was simply the next level, the evolution, of his training that he had tested against Dericote over Mon Cala before. And yet the Neimoidian feared he was simply not trained well enough to succeed. Had he been sent on a suicide mission?

  “Mintooine has suffered command and control loss. Secondary bridge has taken command, ship has lost 67% efficacy of forward fire and hangar bay failure.” The droid starts.

  “Have her face the Republic forces with her portside.” Hatha interrupts to report.

  “The Senator Tikkes has suffered multiple reactor breaches and hangar bay loss. Both ships have lost shields, but the Senator Tikkes will be unable to reactivate them and has lost significant power to engines. She also has a Praetor class battlecruiser lodged within her, which is still unloading various ordnance into our surrounding warships.” The droid replies.

  “She can remain where she is. Order an evacuation of all non-critical sentient crew on the two ships. Begin fighter and bomber advance, keep a quarter of our fighters in reserve as a screen and have five corvettes charge the enemy formation.” Hatha orders in rapid fire.

  “As you command, sir.”

  “Also board the Earldom and scrape out any intel that hasn’t been wiped. Stun rounds only, I want her crew alive. It takes a lot of guts to do what they’ve done.” Hatha concedes.

  “As you command. Enemy ships have entered medium turbolaser and heavy lasercannon range.”

  “Hold position. The transports must get away!” Hatha barks his order. He would not fail here.

  I was grinning like a fool. Standing comfortably on the bridge of the Hammerhead cruiser, the Mudpuppy’s Bite. A barrage of proton torpedoes armed and awaiting the order beneath my feet. The Venators tightly on our tail as we broke into a reverse speartip formation to embrace the enemy’s arrowhead. We were right in front of one of Hatha’s Munificents. Booth of our ships have been exchanging fire, but now, with the enemy shields down from the Hammerhead’s focused fire, the real damage could be done.

  “All ships may fire at will.” I order calmly.

  “You heard the man, launch torps!” Captain Voll barks.

  Along the entire line, Hammerheads, MC30c frigates and DP20 corvettes launch their close range ordnance at their victims. The return fire was hellish, medium, heavy and light turbolasers crashing against our shields and hulls, but the proton torpedoes smash into the enemy ships none the less. A fighter whizzes past the bridge, a Vulture close on its heals until a lasercannon blast hits the Sep fighter as it turns after the retreating Starchaser.

  “All ships intensify frontal fire, adjust positioning for maximum forward fire efficacy. Divert bomber squadrons Bullet, Blast, Buckshot, Sprinkle, Blue and Violet towards the crippled dreadnoughts and bomber squadrons Drizzle, Spit and Downpour to the enemy battleship on the far starboard flank.” I order.

  “Looks like we have fighter advantage.” Lieutenant Hursk mutters.

  “Better start focusin’ on the enemy cruisers, or else they’ll rearm with protons.” A Fondorian staff officer recommends.

  “They probably don’t have proton torps.” I inform my fellow Fondorian, “Commodore Abelard’s been raiding their weapons shipments. From our estimates they’re either out of, or pretty damn close to out of proton torps. Probably only have enough left for half their bombers.”

  “Well then, we better close range.” Captain Voll says happily.

  “Keep current range, no need to get greedy.” I counter order. There wasn’t a point to it yet. No weakness to exploit, especially with both lines almost on top of one another. Voll looks at me as if I had grown another head. A negative of Fondorian naval doctrine, was the imbued aggression. It could be incredibly useful and Maker knows most of my victories are a credit to the efficacy of Fondor’s aggressive tactics, but I’d rather temper them with intel and a solid base.

  “What are you talking about? There’s a perfectly good gap there and enemy transports behind! Who knows how many droids are aboard it!” Captain Voll objects.

  I turn around to the man and get right up into his personal space. He’s in his forties at the youngest, a ten thousander family member, though from a quick glance to his hip I can tell he’s the trustee of the ancestral slugthrower, a similar thing to mine, but a bit larger, more unwieldy, equally ornate.

  “The battle is with the enemy in front of us. Droids are as cheap as sand and the enemy warships are sacrificing themselves to protect them. Prioritize, Captain. We hold our current positions and let our fighters and bombers slowly eat at the enemy’s strength like ticks on a mudpup. Any further questions, or do I need to begin disciplining my fellow countrymen?” I ask, starring into the man’s eyes.

  “No, sir.” The Captain backs down.

  I turn back to the tactical display as I speak: “I will tolerate much, but I will not tolerate mucking up this entire battle to attack possible civilian transports.”

  “We don’t strictly know they’re civilian.” Lieutenant Hursk objects mildly.

  “What else would you sacrifice this many ships for? Either its civilians, Sep leaders or a prototype and since the only prototypes I’ve ever heard of from a Free Dac stronghold are far too large to fit into those, then I’ll assume they’re civilian. Intel reports almost the entirety of the Free Dac leadership has fled to Zim the Despot’s old capital at Argai to try and set up shop there. Now since these are civies, best case scenario, we impound them, now what are you all staring about for? Focus on your stations and destroy those Sep traitors!” I bark, threateningly placing my hand on the slugthrower in my closed holster.

  The cruiser adjusts its positioning slightly, to better exploit the Munificent’s weakpoitns as another volley of turbolasers fly past one another into the two lines of ships. The Hammerhead shudders under the pressure, but her shields survive the volley.

  “Fire in own time!” Voll barks.

  “Pull our Venators and their personal pickets into the gaps between the enemy ships.” I order, “Pull back an additional squadron of fighters per ship to improve screening.”

  “I’m detecting movement from the enemy’s starboard flank!” A sensor’s officer barks.

  “Enemy ships have begun rotating away from Mintooine.” Another says.

  “Hold my last order!” I bark. Had Hatha finished the evacuation? Was he cutting his losses? Was he trying to defeat me?

  “Sir, all enemy ships moving towards the hyperspace egress point to the galactic east.”

  “Hold all advances!” I bark, trying to figure out what to do next. The ships in front of us were pulling back as we exchanged fire. The Mudpuppy’s Bite shuddered again as her shields take another pummeling of turbolaser fire.

  Something large explodes on our starboard. My forces were spent. Hatha was retreating. We still had to secure the remaining shipyards, defensive installations and the anti-orbital battery. We needed repairs, resupply and reinforcements. We could push, but would it be worth it?

  “Sir, your orders.” Lieutenant Hursk asks.

  I gaze past the retreating Sep warships towards the dozens of small civilian transports. It was a hodgepodge of Neimoidian transports, unretrofitted Gazontis and Star Commuter 2000s. Almost certainly filled to the brim with civilians and … I wont risk them. Not like this.

  “Cease all pursuits.” I order.

  “What?” Voll asks, his tone filled with disbelief.

  “We’ll hold our positions here. We still need to seize the anti-orbital battery, the shipyards and the dockyards before the system is secured. Continue firing potshots at the enemy and keep any enemy rearguard occupied with our light ships, pickets and fighters, but the battle is over. All’s left is the cleanup.”

  “Sir, this goes against doctrine!” Voll objects.

  “It goes against Fondorian doctrine. I am acting on Navy doctrine. And while I’d love nothing more than wiping that Neimoidian from the Maker’s great heavens, our primary objective is only halfway secured, the ship- and dockyards could very well be set to explode and we’ll likely be fighting guerrillas here for months if the Seps are smart about it.” I counter, “Now, divert boarding troops to the remaining shipyards, light escorts, but begin fighter and bomber patrols nearby. Be sure to include bomb teams and engineers in the boarding teams and get me General Krugwolt and Rear Admiral Wessex.”

  “I really must object, sir. We can still mount a pursuit.” Voll says.

  “And I must insist, Captain, that we follow my directive. I did not get as far as I have by recklessly throwing my men into the unknown. I always have intel before I act and right now, we are sorely lacking in solid intel.” I admonish.

  “They’re ready for you, sir.”

  I turn slightly to see the holographic projections of a wounded Krugwolt and a pensive Wessex in front of me. I clear my throat and center myself a little before speaking: “Gentlemen. I have ordered a halt on the advance to secure our position before being caught in a bad position.”

  “Fair, I was hesitant with the anti-orbital battery possibly threatening our rear if we were pressured back. Not to mention our forces being close to the brink.” Wessex agrees.

  Krugwolt has a large bactapatch over his upper lip and nose, having apparently suffered some kind of injury. He spits out his opinion anyway: “The 1st Poseidenna has secured the administrative complex as a staging ground for the south polar anti-orbital battery. The admin complex has been abandoned by the Seps , they only fought against a battalion’s worth of B1s and B2s, the droids didn’t even have armored support .”

  “How long do you think it’ll take your men to seize the south polar anti-orbital battery?” I ask.

  “Not sure. Depends on if I can get two regiments worth of men from orbit. If I don’t, maybe another day. If I do, I’m sure I’ll be able to force them within the next eight hours.” The General answers through painful breaths.

  “Enemy ships have begun jumping to hyperspace, sir.” A sensors officer reports.

  “Keep an eye on it.” I order.

  “I’ll muster a regiment’s worth of arms-men for you, General, but I’m afraid we’ll be busy securing the system’s remaining orbital stations.”

  “Well the ones that aren’t in range of the anti-orbital batteries.” I mutter before taking a datapad from Lieutenant Hursk. I glance down it before speaking, “General, you’ll have an additional two regiments equivalent in arms-men from my detachment and any ground support you wish, excluding the full destruction of the anti-orbital facility.”

  “Oh I give up!” Voll barks, “This entire plan was a sham, a series of mistakes. It’s a miracle you ever made it this far you railgoin’ sandeater!”

  I very slowly turn towards the underling, glancing at the man’s hip. Voll was a ten thousander name, but we never had much interactions with them. I very slowly remove my glove from my metal hand as I step up to the chucklefuck.

  “One last chance. I am very forgiving with criticism, but blind insults are not permitted. Especially when the enemy just exited system and there are areas left to secure.” I admonish my elder.

  “I had respect for your old man, but clearly something went wrong with you! He should’ve never married that whore!” The lizardfuck barks. The move is instinctive, the robotic arm adding a bit of extra force into the glove slap.

  “I’ve had enough of this.” I mutter.

  “Pistols, two hours, hangar bay.” Voll states his terms.

  “Three hours. My second is on my flagship.” I object.

  “Two and a half.” Voll bargains.

  “Fine with me. Wessex, you have command. I have a duel to prepare for. Hursk, get me Senior Captain Sicato. He is to get here asap for a duel. He’ll know what to grab. Adjutant Captain Mi-Kus has Unit Little Revenge. Wessex I trust you can manage the rest of the operation directly?”

  “I will manage. Shall I prepare a priest for whoever dies in this foolish act of grandstanding?” He asks, condescendingly.

  “I see no need to kill a man for what he is too mindless for not knowing better.” I state, Voll having already left the bridge with his Lieutenant.

  “Well I wish you the best of luck.” Wessex states.

  “It sure’d be a pity if the Black Hussar died in a stupid duel to a man who’s a subordinate of a subordinate.” Krugwolt adds.

  “It would certainly be a disappointing ending.” I mutter as I head towards the hangar bay.