The bridge shakes with the explosion off our port. A Tionese Man o’ War had gotten too close for comfort and exploded in a cacophony just above our portside batteries. Damn the Separatists! Damn the Tionese! Damn them all, dammit!
I finish cursing internally as a thankfully more distant explosion rocks the starboard, another Man o’ War following its brethren into death as it detonates in a fiery myriad of reds, yellows and purples. I was genuinely surprised the Seps had left their fortifications for a charge and though it had cost them dearly, losing three Man o’ Wars, a Munificent and all but one of their Recusants in and around our center alone. Though even with their increasing losses, the Seps were doing too much damage in return.
“Sir, attempted comm link from the southern hemisphere. It goes against the order of battle.” A comms officer reports.
“Put it up, but this better be important.” I growl as a barrage of heavy turbolasers smash into the sole Recusant light in the center.
Soon enough the visage of a young officer, a Captain by her rank, stands before me. She looks nervous, like a tattletale who is afraid of being implicated with the wrongdoers. I raise a brow and gesture for her to speak.
“Admiral, I am Captain Hicks-Somar of the Durable Mountain in Zeta Division. Commodore Benno has ordered the indiscriminate orbital bombardment of the Tionese capitol city.”
My mind grinds to a sudden stop: “He’s doing WHAT!?”
“His division’s ships have begun the bombardment, sir.”
I turn to face the comms chief: “YOU GET ME COMMODORE BENNO NOW OR SO HELP ME MAKER!”
“Sir, he’s not responding.” The comms chief replies nervously.
“FUCK!” I shout, anger rapidly morphing into action.
I walk over to the comms chief and take over his station. I rapidly type in my override codes and the necessary comms codes. This required a personal touch and immediate action. Soon enough I take a spare headset and place it over my officers cap.
“Admiral?” Captain Chain asks.
“I’ve got a rogue officer bombarding the world below. I want all of Hope Company and whatever elements from Endurance which can arrive at the same time to go and arrest Commodore Benno now. No delay, time is of the essence, snatch up a regiment’s worth of arms-men if you can manage too.”
“If he resists?” Chain asks.
“He’s already dead either way.” I growl.
“He just hasn’t realized it yet. Understood, sir.” My Clone Captain responds, the comm going silent a moment later.
I drop the spare headset as I march over to the head of the bridge, barking orders as I go: “Begin hailing the individual ships to have them stop the bombardment and rejoin our efforts against the enemy’s main force. Send down a trio of corvettes and a frigate and have them give emergency light codes ordering the bombardment to stop. Prepare an open frequency transmission.”
“On it, sir.” Lieutenant Hursk jumps to the challenge.
“Open transmission ready for you.”
“Begin.” I order before taking a deep breath, “All ships, be aware. Unsanctioned bombardments constitute a breach of protocol and the indiscriminate bombardment of a civilian area is an act of criminal malice. All ships found doing so will not suffer their commanding officers to live. I didn’t think I’d have to say this, but it appears I must. For that, I shall apologize. Long live the Republic, Fleet Admiral Dericote, Taskforce Vengeance out.”
The bridge is quiet, it takes a moment, but Captain Hills is the one to speak: “Any Captain who bombards a world without permission has their life forfeit?”
“Was it not clear?” I ask, rhetorically.
The man mulls it over for a moment as another ship in the distance starts to explode. After a moment he speaks: “I ‘spose it was, sir.”
“Got a wing of bombers at eleven o’clock, sir.” A sensors officer interrupts the tension.
“Keep an eye on it. A wing is a dangerous number of bombers.” I order, “And keep up the pressure, they’re counter and Benno’s interruption were well timed and I won’t suffer the indignity of being forced back when we are so close to our final victory.”
Chain double checks his blaster as the LAAT races through space. This was a mission that lacked almost every single piece of intel excluding the interior specs on Commodore Benno’s Venator. Everything else was an unknown. Did the crew know and support the mutinous Commodore? Were they as bloodthirsty as he? Would resistance be heavy or non-existent?
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Chain sighs as Lieutenant Bugs double checks his backback and long range comm unit. Honestly, if the entire situation wasn’t such a snafu the deployment of all of Hope Company would be overkill. A platoon was usually enough to clear a bridge with little to no effort.
“Entering lower hangarbay. Redlight.” Seagull reports.
“Alright boys, we have our orders. Commodore Benno is to be stopped at all costs. He’s a dead man walking no matter what. The longer we take the more innocents die below. Speed is of the essence. Maker keep us. Into the breach!”
The platoon present takes up their motto: “Into the breach!”
“Greenlight.” Seagull reports, the doors opening to allow Door Platoon to charge out of the LAAT and into the hangar.
A quick glance confirms the successful arrivals of 2nd , 3rd and 4th Platoons as well as Aurek and Cresh Platoons of Endurance Company and a trio of arms-men companies from various 120th warships, the familiar blues, blacks and whites of the charge familiar in all the ways that counted. Chain charges up to the confused deck officer and grabs him by his uniform, hefting him up as he does.
“Where’s Commodore Benno?”
“What?”
“WHERE’S THE COMMODORE!?”
“The bridge!” The Sergeant replies confusedly.
“Fleet Admiral’s orders. Commodore Benno is to be stopped. The bombardment is unsanctioned.” Chain explains rapidly, the man’s face turning white in horror as a comms specialist from Door Platoon tries to get into the ship’s master comms.
“Damn it.” The comms specialist curses before turning to Chain, “The entire system is locked down! I can’t get in and the Admiral’s override codes have been taken out of the system, the Commodore’s been planning this for longer than we’d thought.”
“Alright, Hope to the bridge. Daffy, you have rearguard. Bugs, you’re with me in the front. Dudd and Oggs take up the center. The rest of you, secure the generator, hyperdrive and any batteries you can snag. Hop to!” Chain barks in order.
“Yessir.” The Lieutenants respond before the Clones and arms-men form up and begin their run.
Vice Admiral Hatha was not having much of a good time. He was smuggling. SMUGGLING! It was outrageous, it was unfair and unfitting of his station and history. He was an Admiral. He had a history of hunting pirates and smugglers both before the war. Had lead smaller taskforces for years before finally being properly commissioned into the Separatist Navy. He was the officer who had turned thee Contruum-Gizer Gap into a bloodbath in mere days after taking control of the sub-theater. He had practically won the siege of Ringo Vinda and been rewarded for it by Count Dooku himself! Profit save him, he had fought the dreaded Black Hussar and won the field thrice and left the field in good condition thrice when defeated too!
And yet the Neimoidian could not, would not complain. His was the last formation of Separatist Trade Federation ships in the Core outside of the defenders of Cato Neimoidia herself. But what a poor formation it was. His Warprofiteer was the only ship not currently loaded to the brim with supplies and refugees heading … somewhere. Viceroy Gunray hadn’t actually sent him the final location yet. Surely it would be a safe colony, perhaps in the south?
But his first priority was to get his forces out of the Core and to the Tion Cluster. Easier said than done for the formation of over three dozen cruisers and handful of destroyers of varying makes, models and states of maintenance. And yet within them was all that was required for the Neimoidian people to continue. Sure their culture may not be as … prestigious as it had been before Naboo, but it still held weight among their friends in the Confederacy and Republic Senate.
Hatha sighs. This war situation has developed not necessarily to Trade Federation’s advantage. Maybe he should defect, turn over the people to the Republic and pray for a merciful judge for the Admiral’s eventual trial. Sure, the Neimoidian knew he hadn’t done anything wrong in his career, but the Republic still partially blamed him for the Separatists’ massacre on Balshebr.
And Hatha would admit he wasn’t happy about what happened on Balshebr, the entire day had been a disaster, but that was no reason to put the massacre of civilians on his shoulders when he had already left the damn system. Another sigh escapes him, this war was taking too much out of him. He almost yearns for the time when he was a simple merchantman and the biggest worry he had was some pirate thinking they could take on his convoy of Captors despite their droid fighters and point defense lasers. Old fears of being overlooked for promotion instead of fears of his entire culture vanishing from the surface of the known galaxy.
The Neimoidian considers his options once more. Jump northwards towards the Perlimian, or head through contested Kashyyyk? In the end he makes his decision. He knew the northern Perlimian better, it would be safer. And safety is what his convoy of refugees and grubs needed most.
“Breaching charge deployed.” Dudd reports.
“Breach.” Chain orders, voice ice cold. They had made it to the bridge tower without resistance. Then the fighting had started. His men had kept to stun rounds and droid poppers to fight off the hodgepodge of crazed officers trying to ensure a massacre. When they finally had made it to the bridge the blastdoors were locked. Though that wouldn’t be the case for much longer.
The doors explode, leaving a two man sized hole within. Immediately blasterfire emerges from the hole and Chain gives the order by hand motion. His boarding shield locks in next to Bugs’ and they slowly march forward, taking blasterbolt after blasterbolt on their shields. Slowly, too slowly, they make it through the door and take a few further steps. Suddenly, like a flash-flood, Door Platoon burst from behind the door and past the shields, firing blasters with little remorse.
Soon enough the bridge was quiet and Chain walked up to the kneeling Commodore. Lifting the man’s head up with his carbine Chain asks a simple question: “Where are your override codes?”
“Damn you Clone! This is justice!” The Commodore spits.
Chain pulls the blaster back and punches him in the face, hard: “YOUR CODES, SOLDIER!”
“Sir, I’ve got ‘em.” Ivy reports.
“Plug them in and prepare a Division wide announcement, include the Fondor’s Star.” Chain orders before turning towards the Commodore and socking him in the jaw for good measure.
“Transmission ready, sir.”
Chain nods before moving the Commodore into the center of the hologram’s field of view, standing behind him, carbine planted against the man’s head: “This is Captain Chain of Hope Company. By the authority invested in me by the Fleet Admiral I am ordering you all to cease the bombardment of Tion. You have thirty seconds to comply or else face a firing squad or a botched noose.”
A pause where the Captain waits. One by one the ships around him stop their bombardment of the smoking, smoldering, burning, city below.
Bugs makes the report: “Zeta Division has fully ceased fire.”
“Good. By the authority invested in me by Fleet Admrial Dericote, Marshal Administrator of the North East Slice Command and Commanding Officer of Taskforce Vengeance I have the distinct pleasure to inform Commodore Benno of his death sentence for insubordination, criminal, indiscriminate bombardment of a civilian population and mutiny. Any last words, traitor?”
“I did what I did for all the Perlimian and the Republic.” Benno spits.
A single scream of a blasterbolt echoes throughout the bridge, the Commodore’s body falling to the floor, smoking and lifeless. Chain breathes in, then slowly exhales. That had been justice. A terrible man dead.
“Captain Hicks-Somar is now in charge of Zeta Division until the battle is concluded. Admiral Dericote demands you all make for the battle. Expect to be the center line at Raxus. That will be no honor, but the most dangerous area of combat. You will either redeem yourselves there or die trying. Captain Chain out.”
The hologram goes out and the Clone Captain lets out another hiss of an exhale. Why couldn’t he have another near death experience fighting a Sep boarding action instead of this?
“Um, sir?” Bugs asks.
“What is it Lieutenant?” Chain prods.
“Did the Admiral ever say who would command this ship after we disposed of the bastard?”
“Not to my knowledge.” Chain answers.
“I call dibs!” Daffy barks.
“You can’t call dibs, this is a Venator, not the last slab of jerky!” Bugs snaps.
“Damn right it is, I wanna give her a spin!” Daffy retorts.
“No you don’t”
“Yes I do!”
“No you don’t”
“Yes I do!”
“No you don’t”
“Yes I do!”
“No you don’t”
“Yes I do!”
Yes you do!”
“No I don’t and that’s final!” Daffy snaps.
“If you two are done bickering,” Chain begins as Daffy slaps himself in the bucket, Bugs snickering at tricking his fellow Lieutenant, “I think I’ll take charge until we’re done here.”
“Sir yes sir.” The Lieutenants reply, four smirks greeting the Captain.
“Admiral better be quick though.” Chain prays.