“Thirty seconds, sir.” The navigations officer reports.

  I let a slow breath out. Even if the enemy had three times the numbers we were expecting I would outnumber them. I wasn’t used to that. It was almost unnerving that I did outnumber them, it felt just a bit off. When before this campaign began had I ever outnumbered my enemy?

  “Three, two, one, exiting.”

  Hyperspace recedes to reveal the system before us. We entered rather close to the latest reported sighting of the Sep garrison. We’re one of the last ships out and I march over to the tactical display. Lines are forming rapidly and the enemy looks to have formed their own defensive lines facing us.

  “Enemy numbers, one Lucrehulk battleship/carrier, two Providence battleships, four Munificent cruisers with hangar bays, four Munifexes and six Gozantis, sir.” Welder reports.

  “The Munifexes are new.” Mi-Kus mutters as our first line begins exchanging long range turbolaser fire with the enemy. The Venators Albedo Brave and Iron Maiden taking the center of the enemy formation as strikecraft race towards one another.

  “Divert fighter wings Aurek and Alpha to move along the galactic north flank. I want to cut off any possible escape northwards. How’s the jamming holding up?” I order.

  “Wings on the move.”

  “Jamming is keeping the enemy comms within the system, especially the far pickets are doing good work, sir.” Lieutenant Slas reports.

  “Should we divert some light ships along the north as well?” Mi-Kus asks.

  “No, deploy our reserves along the north, let’s try and push the enemy towards the south.” I order.

  “I assume that includes us?” Mi-Kus asks to clarify.

  “The entire 347th, if you please.” I reply, the helmsman already steering the ship and adjusting the pace.

  Mi-Kus lets out a shallow sigh before nodding: “Focus shields to our front and port, rotate missile turret portside and load concussions?”

  “That would be appropriate for the range I have in mind.” I agree.

  “Then load concussions. Pass the Admiral’s advice along.” Mi-Kus orders.

  I adjust the planned course on the map, my adjustments rapidly being mumbled to the other ships by a mix of Adjutants and comms officers. A Munifex detonates while an Acclamator pulls back to the rear, having been pummeled just hard enough to cause concern. This was certainly a bonus to having more ships than the enemy. Sustained fire, while being able to cycle ships. I don’t think I’ve managed something like a true ship cycle since Mon Cala.

  “Detecting Cornau radiation, emanating from the galactic south.” A sensors officer reports.

  “Looks like the rest of our forces are crashing the party.” I hear an Adjutant snicker.

  Almost with perfect timing the first ships exit hyperspace to the south of the enemy. An entire battlegroup alongside two squadron’s worth of additional ships. The enemy continues to fire at my original line as my 347th finishes cutting them off form the north.

  “Move the 209th Squadron and the 127th Section to cut off the enemy from behind. Intensify strikecraft engagement and begin closing distance.” I order.

  “Fire missiles now!” Mi-Kus orders.

  Another Munifex goes up in flames while a Munificent goes dark from the opening volley of the southern attack. A large mix of Vultures and Hyenas make a break for us, probably trying to punch a hole into my formation to allow a breakout attempt. But before they can even fire off their torpedoes they get intercepted by a slightly smaller swarm of our own fighters. The two formations crash into one another, rapidly forming into a fighter melee where Starchasers, Vultures, ARCs and Hyenas duel to the death in a violent ball of lasers, concussion missiles and death.

  An explosion in the distance draws my attention form the swarm of fighters. The enemy Lucrehulk having a new hole in its armor belt, fire leaking from its interior into the void of space. One of the Providences moves to try and cover the new weakpoint of the enemy Lucrehulk. The well meaning effort does little, Republic bombers and fighters swerving into the gap between the two ships to drop proton torpedoes and bombs into the gap while a more intense concentration of turbolaser and ion fire smashes against the Separatist battleship.

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  Meanwhile I watch dispassionately as one of the Munifexes attempts to flee by going under our lines, making a run towards the weakpoint in our formation at the north-east part of the encirclement. I simply waltz over to the tactical display and punch in the contact codes for Commodore Jim’s 209th, soon enough the visage of the Duro appears before me.

  “Commodore. I would ask you to cut off the Munifex making a run for the north-east part of our encirclement. I’d recommend a rotation and a targeted bombardment.”

  “I see the merit of that. By your leave.”

  “And remember. None may escape alive.” I reply, the Duro snapping a quick salute before barking orders at his men, the transmission cutting out not a moment later.

  An explosion rocks our lines, a new Sphyrna corvette staying in combat just a minute too long and being pierced by a heavy turbolaser when it tried to pull back in vain. I suppress a flinch. That was twenty one men and a ship I won’t get back any time soon. A different explosion near the south end of the enemy’s rapidly devolving formation makes me double check the tactical display. The enemy was down another Munificent, the enemy cruiser’s explosion knocking parts of it into the already damaged Providence beside it. A second volley of turbolasers smashing into the damaged battleship turning it to slag and debris. Bad spacing would do that to you.

  “Pull strikecraft back to a close picket. I don’t want any of them getting caught up in any more explosions.” I order. I could already see a newer squadron of bombers making a run through the debris fields I would barely trust Bastard Squadron to do. Overeager bastards. Not bloodied enough to know better and twice the fools for it.

  The northern Providence takes a bad hit on its side as a missile punches through the armor around a turret, blowing it off its socket and detonating its tibana reserves in the process. A nasty hit. One that could often go deeper than one would think. The Little Revenge shudders as a nasty hit punches against her shields.

  Another Munificent goes up in flames as her center breaks under a coordinated volley from one of the Fondorian sections. A closer inspection of the tactical display also reveals the destruction of the last of the enemy’s Gozanits. Another one of the Acclamators chooses this time to pull back, the rotation letting a lucky shot smash into one of its engines, blowing the exhaust to bits.

  I frown, that was another ship I wouldn’t be able to use. Blast it: “I want every available ship to fire missiles on my mark. Coordinate the fire matrices and spread them around the remaining enemy ships. They’re already heavily wounded and I want them dead!”

  It only takes a minute until I get an affirmative and it takes a single word to launch hundreds of concussion missiles at the enemy’s wounded ships. They almost impact as one and for a half second it looks as if the Separatist warships had been replaced by minuscule stars. By the time I look back, all that remains is debris. The killing blow had been a bit overkill to be honest, like curb-stomping the brains out of a half-dead mudpuppy. It did work though.

  I take a deep breath before snapping back to the present: “Get me a casualty list and move us into orbit. Get me a line to the planetary Governor and deploy rescue and salvage teams. I don’t want to stay here longer than I have to. Also prepare a system garrison.”

  “What about a ground invasion?” Mi-Kus asks as Adjutants and comms officers begin passing my orders along.

  “Dennogra doesn’t have the population or influence for anti-orbital defenses. We’ll threaten them with a nice and heavy stick while swaying the treat right in front of their nose.” I reply.

  Mi-Kus sighs as he nods: “Very well, sir.”

  I take a deep breath and try and center myself. Then another thing pops into my mind: “All ships, return to quadruple line formation, transports and burdened ships to third line. Follow front line lead. Helmsman, Mi-Kus we’re going to go ahead and position ourselves in orbit, about five clicks away from the planetary capitol before locking in our orbit.”

  I observe silently as my orders are carried out. Though we fail to get a comms relay established between us and the capitol until we’re about a hundred and twenty kilometers above them.

  “Incoming transmission from the planetary surface.” Lieutenant Slas says.

  “Put ‘em up, if you will.” I order as I turn away from the transparasteel window I was using to look down on the world.

  The holoprojection shows a rather stoic looking Aqualish. They wore a rather simple tunic and a medallion to denote their position as administrator of the world. I wait a long moment as the Aqualish’s eyes narrow at me. I wanted to see if I could make them sweat, metaphorically speaking of course.

  “Exarch. As you can see, the Separatist forces in system have been destroyed. Your comms are jammed and no reinforcements are coming for you. I would demand you surrender,” I say calmly, “unconditionally.”

  The Aqualish’s eyes narrow even further as they respond: “I will not be threatened by some two-chit Republic bloodhound who’s more interested in attacking my world’s merchants than fight a fair battle.”

  “Very well. A demonstration perhaps. Captain Mi-Kus, please inform all ships we will be holding an impromptu targeting exercise. Let’s say … a radius of fifty kilometers with its center … let’s say sixty kilometers local east from the edge of the local capitol. Any inhabitants there?”

  “The world does not have any known inhabitants to the local east of the planetary capitol. Republic intelligence simply reports local automated mining. No reports or even rumors of sentient supervisors, all droid managed.” Mi-Kus reports calmly.

  “Very good. All ships have their targeting matrices?” I ask.

  “You … you cannot be serious!” The Exarch says, their face a mix of shock and disgust.

  “I think, three shots per gun? That should be a nice start. By the way, I’d recommend evacuating your people to the city centers, any strategic infrastructure and the eastern edge, I will not knowingly fire on civilians, unless I am left no choice.” I say, my voice going cold.

  “You … you are bluffing! You would never subject a world to such a fate!”

  I sigh as I speak: “No, I have done it before and I will likely do it again.”

  “Matrices are calculated. All ships report ready.” Mi-Kus says.

  “Very well. Fire at will.” I say, closing my eyes as I do. Maker forgive me.

  The comms channel shudders as the first shots smash against the rocky surface below. As my eyes open I simply stare at the horror stricken face of the Exarch. They had miscalculated, clearly. The second volley smashes into the planetary crust, already blasted dust being burnt even further as new dirt is burnt to hell and back. The final volley continues the action as I stare into the soul of the Exarch.

  “I will only repeat myself once. Surrender, unconditionally. Do not make me do this to your troops. Do not cause unnecessary deaths, for they will be on your head as much as they’ll be on mine, Exarch.” I threaten. Maker bless this barren rock below me, I don’t know if I’d have the stomach to do this to an agricultural world.

  The Exarch’s eyes are still wide with horror as they look upon me. I patiently wait for my response. We knew where one of the Sep forts were, a sparsely inhabited mountain range, but I’d rather receive an unconditional surrender now, than later.

  “I … I hereby surrender my world and all of her garrison under my control.”

  “Very good. Welcome back to the Republic. Expect two regiments worth of volunteers within your capital by the time the smoke clears. I want every soldier on your world disarmed. You will be kept as temporary Governor to work alongside a military Governor from one of the regiments. We’ll be placing any Separatist collaborators into house arrest until a time where they may be trialed. I am also placing this world under martial law and cordon. Expect military ships to deploy rations and necessary consumer goods for your people. I also demand you inform your people of your wise and decision and our generous terms. Any forces which do not surrender after your declaration will be considered insurgents and will suffer further penalties, meanwhile all taxes will be canceled for the next year and any damaged infrastructure can be repaired by the engineers in the forces which will be garrisoning your world.”

  “Very well. I shall inform my people.”

  “I am so very glad you see reason, Governor.” I reply coolly, the transmission going cold a moment later. Maker I need a drink … bad.