The plan had proceeded exactly as they desired thus far. A strike force of fighters struck the Mandan fleet above Taris two days prior, destroying a cruiser before fleeing through hyperspace back to the Imperial fleet assembled at Skorrupon. They lingered in the system long enough to goad the enemy into a pursuit, the small size of the fighter contingent would be viewed as an insult to the prowess of the Mandan clans as outlined by Aella. Her information had been accurate, with the Mandans committing one cruiser to the pursuit for every fighter the Empire had sent to the raid on Taris.
"They pride themselves in unproportionate responses to threats from their rivals." As she had described. Val had been little more than a mouthpiece to the two women's plans, merely supplementing with slight alterations that were minor in the grand scheme. That he could not be more vocal of the true architects' prowess bothered him greatly. Though, he thought, it will spare them the consequences should we fail.
It will not fail. Was Chiko's immediate response as she poured over the viewscreen, accounting for each element of the trap that the Mandan fleet now rushed toward. There was a heaviness in his gut, an abiding ache like acid that would not abate. What if...
It was a phantom that had harried him day and night. The perilous disposition of the Empire, the mistakes made in the management of its shockingly limited resources and now the impending battle that risked nearly a quarter of those same resources, all threatened to lay him low with nausea. Had his family not been held in the balance, Val May have given in to that sickness. His home suffered under the rule of this enemy and that of their benefactors.
The Shadowhand had yet to reveal themselves. Aella's stories had fed an obsession in Val that grew with every moment that his home was occupied. There were confirmed reports now, from those that had fled Taris and escaped the reach of the Mandan fleet, of the atrocities committed against those that resisted. Tae Kidann, the stories said, was held now by the War-Marshall within Kidann palace. Worse, in Val's mind, was the betrayal of the Adrass, whom had by many accounts been responsible for the fall of the planetary shield. It was all but confirmed now, though the confusion of the battle had left enough doubt to allow Chiko to operate uncontested upon the bridge of the Triumphant.
She had never been one to show her feelings in the presence of strangers. Her face matched those of the officers surrounding her, focused and tinged with a small amount of concern. Victory depended on so many factors, most of which were now beyond control. It was all accounting now, the enemy's force strength, the number of friendly ships that had answered the summons in time and the dissemination of the battle plan to new arrivals.
There were twelve capital ships in the force that Val would classify as battle-ready, full capability. The remaining twenty-six ships of the force were in poor condition, their crews either fresh from the academy or otherwise crewed by naval reserve personnel. These were, after all, ships pulled from the available reserve, some of which had not seen conflict in at least four decades. Much of Val's contribution to this effort was in coordinating the short term retraining of these crews. There had never been enough time to make them entirely competent in their posts, but little experience is better than no experience.
If given any other choice, Val would not have engaged with his current force. If there were an alternative, Val would have spent the next six months retraining his crews and refitting his ships for the threat they now faced. There were so many "ifs" and "with this I would haves" that ran through Val's mind as he placed the game pieces on the board. Each ship carried thousands of crew, pilots and in many cases, small teams of Knights. They were integral to the battle plan, the true crux on which everything would be decided.
"Fighters inbound." A young ensign said, her voice calm and professional. It would be a long day for her, as the internal comm officer, she would be relaying orders throughout the ship at a pace even Val found daunting. It was a position Val would rather have seen handled by a droid, but Droids could be tampered with. As if humanoids can't... Val thought morbidly. It was one of the most difficult techniques to employ, highly discouraged by most members of the order, but it was part of their education for defensive purposes.
It was a line he had crossed before, justified by the eminent threat posed to the Empire. Breaking the will of another being was not a pleasant experience. It was invasive and painful for both parties. There was an exchange of emotion, memory and sensation that Val found overwhelming and revolting. He shuddered as he remembered the feeling.
The fighters dropped out of hyperspace and made best speed for the Allegiant. The Grandmaster stood at the center of the bridge, his gaze distant, as if he could see the approaching ships. In a way, he could see them. His master's power was truly terrifying. Koorta was, in some respects, already fighting the coming battle, gaining insights that would shape its course.
It wouldn't be long, perhaps an hour at the most, before the enemy arrived. Val ran the preparation list through his mind again and again. What could he do now? How could he shift the balance further in their favor? He had begun to sweat, the cloth beneath his armor clinging uncomfortably to him. Eventually his eyes became blank as he stared ahead, past his master toward the projected enemy ingress point.
Chiko was at his side now, though they had little to say. They understood each other, there was no need for conversation. He allowed himself a small gesture, unnecessary, but, he felt, important. He turned to her, gaining her attention with the unexpected movement. He smiled at her, a promise that, despite all that had happened, his feelings remained as they had. When she smiled in return, all of the strain that Val had accumulated melted away. Though few things were certain and the odds were bleak, this was sure.
"They are here." Koorta said, turning away from the viewport toward his officers. "The bridge is yours, Captain." The grandmaster commanded, striding past Captain Derrosk briskly as he moved to the tactical display at the rear. Derrosk did not hesitate, moving to her post and stringing off orders at a calm and precise pace. "Power to shields and weapons, propulsion offline." She said as the first enemy ship dropped into view. It was a light cruiser, likely equipped with the fastest variant of hyperdrive the Mandan possessed. In this particular case, it would be to their detriment, as Val watched the first Imperial fighters close with the cruiser.
Thus far, limited experience had shown that this was the primary advantage they held in a fair fight. The Mandan starfighters were simply not constructed to the same standard of the Z-series. Moreover, the Mandan doctrine seemed to eschew support craft formations entirely. Mandan starfighter formations were entirely defensive in nature, safeguarding the larger capital ships. Unfortunately, those capital ships carried a massive array of powerful turbo lasers and torpedo bays.
It was not that Imperial ships lacked the same armament, it was a simple difference in priorities. Ships like the Triumphant, true battlecruisers designed to engage other capital ships in a brawl, those were the exceptions. Luckily, the plan made use of the fleet's strengths. They would, to the best of their ability, deny the Mandan the kind of fight they would strive for. This battle would be won by the starfighter squadrons and boarding regiments, or not at all.
"Gold group engaged." The squadron leader stated. Val had played a part in designating his squadron as the first. They weren't the best squadron, in either training or personality, but they could be spared in the case of disaster. Such was the arithmetic of war. Flashes of light shone in the distance as deflector shields flared and sparked under the strain of oncoming weapons fire.
Three archaic Emissary-class Light cruisers were locked in direct engagement with the Mandan cruiser. These were the depreciated ancestor of the Observer-class, the most common class of cruiser in the Imperial fleet. Like their successor, they were intended to facilitate starfighter operations and boarding craft, but carried a comparatively light armament load.
The enemy's deflectors failed within thirty seconds of engagement start. Within five minutes, multiple gaping holes had formed across its hull from the sustained barrage of overwhelming fire. It was to the testament of the Mandan engineering corps that the vessel had withstood such punishment.
An officer hurried to Derrosk's side speaking in a hushed tone. Derrosk grimaced before turning and walking to the tactical display. Her face was calm, but Val could sense her fear and frustration. "My lord, it appears the approaching fleet is larger than we anticipated." The Captain said plainly. "There are four additional ships in addition to the twelve cruisers reported by black squadron." She said with a sigh of exasperation. "Commander Fel assures me that his count was accurate, but the hyperspace probes are rarely incorrect."
The news was thoroughly unwelcome, but not unanticipated. Val spoke first, blurting the first question to come to his mind, "Do we have a make of these new ships?" It was a genuine concern. The Mandan, according to Aella, had a wide arsenal of speciality vessels sporting exotic weapons. These had, to Val's best knowledge, yet to be revealed.
"No. We can not determine what, if any, difference there are between the vessels." Derrosk replied shortly before turning back to the battle. The Mandan cruiser was failing now, unable to return fire, its reactors breached or destroyed. Val thought of requesting rescue teams be dispatched, if only to gain possible prisoners. It was for naught, as the ship detonated at its midsection then broke apart, spewing forth its insides to float endlessly in the void. He could not help but to grimace. Though they were his enemy, to be lost to the cold dark for all eternity was a fate he wished upon noone. He hoped that none had survived the cataclysmic explosion only to drift hopelessly until claimed by a slower death. Perhaps they may be saved after the battle.
It was quiet again, only the dull hum of the ship and the hushed conversations of its crew. Val watched as the three Emissary-class cruisers returned to the larger formation. Some bore scars of the battle, thin lines of vapor trailing as they moved to rendezvous. As reports flooded in, a grim picture began to develop. Though no ship had been severely damaged, they had not been unscathed in what should have been a nearly flawless contest. The Mandan ships packed a significant punch and doubt began to grow in Val's mind as to if this battle could be won. They still outnumbered the enemy, they still maintained the advantage in starfighter numbers and quality. If they succeeded, it would be close, dreadfully, terribly close. Chiko was beside him, her aura was calm, committed to the course ahead and the cost that would accompany it.
Be still... wait. His mind told him, but the greater passions called for action; to alter the plan, to reset the board before it was too late. He was a spectator to a horror he had helped construct. It wasn't fear, that ebbed dully in his chest but did not overtake his sense. It was a helplessness that he could not escape. He could see the oncoming fleet in his mind's eye, could behold the burning hulks of the Emperor's ships twisting in a field of their own wreckage, the bodies of their crews torn and broken amidst.
Wait. His conscious mind begged as his heart threatened to seize control. Had that voice always been there? Val could remember a time when he didn't have these urges, when he ruled his passions. Was it Chiko? A byproduct of his tie to her, a sharing of innate characteristics foreign to their individual selves? It could have been, perhaps. The darker thought occurred to him after that. It had always been there. It spoke to him. Had he awakened some part of himself? Was this restlessness so benign as he believed?
The first of the Mandan fleet dropped into view suddenly, scrambling fighters as they did so. It was one of the larger cruisers, a behemoth studded with blisters of turbo lasers, cannons and torpedo launchers in the hundreds. The swept-wing fighters comprising its defense screen surged forward to the extent of its weapons range and held formation, waiting to receive the Empire's challenge. The rest of the fleet followed on in short order, arranging themselves in their battle formation.
The Behemoth was at the center, two smaller cruisers at its flank comprising the first of four battle groups of three ships each. 12 ships. Val thought, panic growing in his chest as he turned to the tactical display. "Cloaked cruisers?" Val whispered to himself, a knot forming in his gut. Aella's eyes widened as she looked at him. She hadn't known, or at the very least, was a good liar. Regardless, it was the hand they had been dealt and they would now need to play it.
"I can sense them." Koorta said with a grimace, pausing briefly, "It is too faint to track." He said after a moment of concentration. Val didn't let his face show the desperation he felt. Cloaked craft would sew untold chaos if they were not dealt with quickly. A plan began to form as he stared blankly into the light of the display. The flickering light was captivating, the ships bright blue nearing white surrounded by a sea of darker blues. Flickering.
"We need a very large explosion." Val said suddenly, before turning to Chiko, conversing silently with her. She smiled dimly, understanding his ploy. "A blast bright enough to scramble the receptors on the ships for a few seconds." He said.
Koorta looked at him for a moment, then turned to Derrosk. "Captain?" He asked, his question implicit.
Derrosk nodded gravely, "We have something, but it's not something we can fire from the torpedo bay, it will need to be placed and armed for remote detonation." The Captain said, her description making the nature of the weapon quite clear in Val's mind. Either they were going to detach a drive core and rig it to explode, or the Triumphant was carrying a planet killer. Neither eventuality was particularly cheerful in Val's mind.
"Enemy fleet closing into attack formation Captain." Said the ensign from just behind the helm, her voice as calm and professional as could be expected in the situation. Derrosk sighed with consternation as she spoke, "I'll task a shuttle to carry the charge but we'll need to divert fighters to defend it, which are now in unfortunately low supply."
"I'll do it." Chiko said, beating Val by instants. "Me too." He said smiling at his love. The third voice was not one Val expected. "I will assist." Aella said, drawing eyes from around the table.
She was steady, her eyes meeting each of theirs with calm assertion of her desire to help. "I'm repayment for the generous treatment you have afforded me." She said, bowing her head slightly before meeting their gaze again. Koorta smiled, "That's three." He said, turning back to Val. "Do you think you can find a fourth?"
Val thought of it for a moment, then smiled as an answer came to him. "I know just the man for the job." He said as the first shots rang out across the great distance between the opposing fleets. As he strode from the bridge with Chiko and Aella at his side, Val caught glimpses of the great calamity unfolding. It would only be a matter of time before the hammer fell upon Triumphant.
"I hate flying." Teiron said as the canopy lowered above him with a mechanical whir. Val smiled broadly at his friend, now reluctantly dressed neatly into his flight suit. Val couldn't fix that for him, but this is where the Empire needed the ISB agent. He keyed his comm as his own canopy descended.
"You'll be fine, just stay in formation and bug out when we do." Val said reassuringly as he ran through his final checks. Everything was in order as per his instruments. He began feeding power to his propulsors and the craft began to rise from the deck. Chiko was close behind, with Aella and Teiron lifting just behind. Val flew above the cargo shuttle carrying the charge, keying his comm. "Spec-5, follow us out and keep your shields at maximum, it's going to be madness out there." As if to emphasize that point, the ship was rocked by a blast that could only be turbolaser fire.
"Copy lead." The pilot said tentatively. This was no hardened starfighter jock, Val realized far too late to change the circumstance. It was a terrified young nobleman behind the controls of the shuttle, likely no older than Val had been during his first battle. Four years had passed since that day on distant, occupied Taris. Val caught a glimpse of himself in the canopy, his face barely recognizable. One moment he'd been a boy staring into his bedroom mirror and in the incomprehensible blur from that moment to the present, that boy had been banished. How can anyone prepare for times like these? The truth, Val realized, is that no one could be prepared.
He led the procession, though Chiko was the better pilot. They broke free of the hangar, gliding through the environmental shielding into the whirling chaos of the battle beyond. They were at the periphery of the maelstrom, but eddies of violence erupted around them. Starfighters danced about each other trading vicious streams of cannon fire as concussion missiles illuminated the infinite darkness, each eruption of flame a testament to a life ended. Mercy was rarely afforded in this realm, though less due to personal choice and more to the stakes involved. Whereas an opponent defeated on the ground may be subdued, as long as a pilot retained some control of their craft they posed a threat.
Val watched as a trio of Imperial fighters unleashed combined fire onto a single stricken Mandan craft which evaporated under the sustained barrage. He was close enough to see the pilot fall free, the strange armor and helmet design carved into relief against the distant star. Val hoped the pilot had died instantly, rather than suffer amongst the wreckage field quickly forming between the two contesting fleets. The savage beauty of the sight would do little to assuage the agony of death by asphyxiation. Better to blast yourself. He mused with a grimace.
"I've never seen anything like this..." Teiron said, Val imagining the officer's mouth agape in awe. Nor had Val, nor had anyone in their generation, this scale of war had not been seen since the conquest of Taris, his great forefathers' crusade. Lessons lost. He thought, though it was not entirely his own. Chiko's mind reached for his own, a calm and cool place among the battlefield. It would have been disturbing to Val had he not known her nature, but he did innately. This was the war she had been forged for. Forged for? Val wondered, a small cloying doubt beginning to wriggle at the back of his consciousness.
His deflector shields whined as a burst of fire struck across them, sending the bolts of energy skittering into the void beyond. The blade-like form of a Mandan fighter passed only meters above his canopy, an emblem depicting a golden serpent of some design inlaid over a field of black. Patterns like that of the same serpent crossed the entirety of the hull. Val broke without a word, chasing the craft. Chiko was at his side, accelerating to overtake him. I have him. She said without speaking. A part of Val wanted to pursue, to avenge himself, but was quieted by his better instincts. She would accomplish that for him.
He proceeded on the established route, Chiko's fighter moving off to engage the enemy. She held the advantage, the pilot was merely playing for time. Val anticipated the next attack, a shiver of distrust compelling him to jag wildly upward. Another gout of blazing energy bolts sizzled by, further than the previous but yet too close for comfort. This one he resolved to deal with as it was likely the second member of the prior fighter's group. "Defend the shuttle." Valcommanded, breaking hard to pursue the fleeing fighter. His assumptions were confirmed a moment later when he closed with the Mandan, the fighter bearing the same emblem he had seen on the first.
He did not hesitate to engage, sending his own deluge of cannon fire into the rear of his opponent's craft. One bolt broke through, burning a near hole into the craft and cutting off the energy supply to the propulsors. The craft began to list lazily, maintaining its momentum and revealing the further damage within. The bolt had burned through the cockpit and the pilot within the remains floating freely with the craft, forever to travel into the vast emptiness. Val shuddered, killing had never felt so impersonal as this. Worse than that, he had felt a thrill, a pang of elation at his victory.
"Val we've got more on us!" Teiron yelled into the comms, forcing Val to break left and search for the threats. There were two more craft, one chasing Teiron while the other fled from him. It was to the ISB officer's credit that he'd managed to gain the advantage on one of his foes, Val could not have expected better from the man. He accelerated to assist, switching his targeting computer on. The micro-mech behind his seat gave him a reassuring "wootooo" has he did so. The droid was manufactured for this purpose, its entire being devoted to the calculations necessary to give the craft's Concussion missiles the required guidance.
The soft trill of the droid gave way to a "lock" tone as its calculations concluded. Val launched the missile, watching the cylinder separate from the recessed tube on his right wing. The missile blazed forward, arcing to meet the Mandan bladewing as Teiron juked wildly in all directions. Deflector shields would do little to deter this weapon. The pursuit fighter was forced to break, initiating a series of erratic evasive rolls and loops as they blazed cannon fire toward the pursuing missile. They were so caught up in the desperate evasion that they had no awareness left to anticipate Val's next attack. The fighter was ripped apart by a sustained burst of cannon fire that was punctuated by the missile's impact.
Val checked Teiron, who maintained his own pursuit admirably though he was unable to destroy his target. Val wanted to assist him, but a more pressing concern arrived as he observed the shuttle. Two more Mandan fighters had arrived, moving to assault the unguarded craft that now returned a pitiful defensive fire from its turrets. Val accelerated to his craft's maximum, his body sinking further into the seat as he fought to retain control. The first craft broke left to meet him, the two opponents rapidly closing toward each other. Val keyed his concussion missiles, but they were closing too fast. Switching to his cannons, Val immediately fired, sending a ceaseless stream of bolts toward his foe. Green-yellow bolts answered in return, sizzling past his canopy within an arms-length. His deflector shields failed but Val was committed now, the enemy craft approaching without any indication of fear or hesitation. They would ram into each other within heartbeats.
A bolt broke through his opponent's shield, tearing through the left engine of the fighter and sending it into a spin. Val did not pursue, the shuttle ahead now under continuous fire by the undamaged foe. He wasn't quick enough. The concussion missiles could not get a lock without endangering the shuttle. Val screamed helplessly into the void as a shot connected with the shuttle, sending the craft spinning, trailing flames and atmosphere. The Mandan fighter came about again, lining up for a final run to destroy the shuttle utterly. Val keyed his comm, but said nothing, there was no escape, no maneuver to be made to avoid oncoming death for the craft.
Then the enemy fighter erupted in a gout of blue flame as a concussion missile struck it from the flank. Aella's fighter streaked through the flames and debris before coming around quickly and forming with the shuttle. Val breathed again, letting himself relax slightly before taking the lead position again and keying his comm. "Are you alright 5?" He asked the shuttle pilot. The younger man's voice came through as shockingly calm and collected, almost trance-like. "Yeah lead, we're okay, we've patched the breach." He said, as the shuttle limped forward, flames extinguished.
Teiron returned to form a few moments later without a word, Chiko forming a few moments later. They were rapidly closing with the deployment point. Val expected to be engaged again, but nothing materialized. He turned to observe the distant battle, seeing that the Triumphant was directly engaged. Val winced, if he had been in control of the cloaked ships, this would have been his moment to strike. He keyed his comm, "Arm that charge, the Triumphant is engaged." He stated, his meaning implicit. He could sense that Chiko felt the same intuition as he.
Within moments the charge was armed and exiting the shuttle hatch. The detonation could be triggered remotely by any member of the squadron with a backup countdown of two minutes. Val's intention was to detonate the charge as soon as they were out of the blast radius. The squadron began to pull away at speed. "Damn it!" Came the voice of the shuttle pilot. Val turned to see the craft beginning to spin, it's engines having failed. He swore under his breath, cursing their luck. "5, can you fix it?" Val asked, knowing it was a long shot. They didn't have time to repair serious damage, as the seconds passed, Val made a decision.
"All of you get clear, I'm going to boost the shuttle." Val said, pulling his fighter around to the rear of the craft. He moved slowly, touching the front of his craft to the rear of the larger shuttle. As he did so, he slowly increased power to his propulsors, accelerating both craft. There was less than a minute to go now and a significant distance to cover. Val shuddered with every metallic groan of his craft as he continued to accelerate toward maximum speed.
"You're going to fry your propulsors!" Chiko exclaimed, having ignored his previous command. She was right of course, his craft's propulsion systems were not meant for a load of this mass. Luckily all he needed was to get them out of the detonation radius, if they failed after that, no matter. He tried to ignore the alarm blaring, warning of failing integrity as he pushed his craft beyond its limits. It was worse than he'd thought, he realized. The reactor was failing, the cooling unit unable to cope with the demand. Whether a design flaw or merely the natural result of such a maneuver, it did not really matter, his reactor would overheat within moments.
It would have been so easy to leave the shuttle, so simple to detach himself and continue on his way. Easy in the moment perhaps. Val thought as heat began to overtake him. I love you. He thought, knowing she would be listening. The reactor was sure to detonate at any moment now, the heat within the canopy was threatening to melt through his armor and flight suit. A glow settling over the periphery of his vision, too hot to breathe. They would make it, just a few moments more and they would be clear.
A light like nothing Val had ever seen encompassed him and he knew that they were too late. Goodbye. He thought, feeling the panic and grief leave him. It had been close, perhaps he could shield the shuttle from the worst of it. A vain hope that his sacrifice would not be wasted.
He was buffeted by some unknown force, thrown like a rag doll as he and his fighter were pulled suddenly away from the shuttle. He turned, seeing the oncoming destruction of the blast wave as it closed with him. He was moving away from the shuttle, now painted in relief against the oncoming swirling energy cloud. The shuttle pilot screamed as the wave overtook them, the metal boiling in nanoseconds as Val watched the ship evaporate.
How was this possible? What had pulled him away. No. Val thought, anger boiling within him as the now distant destruction faded. It was Chiko, of course. Her craft came to rest beside his, her face visible through the canopy, impassive but for the tears that leaked from the corners of her eyes. She had made a decision for him and though some part of Val knew it had been the right call, he could not reconcile his feelings. I never asked their name. He thought. Was that some cynical part of him? Had he not deigned to do so because of the chance they'd not return?
Val stared into the void where the shuttle had been and seethed in his failure. It had not been wasted, he knew, seeing the bulbous forms of the stealth ships floating powerless in that void, the reactive plating scorched by the blast's heat. Already bolts of energy were arcing toward the powerless hulks, striking them without reply, tearing gaping maws within. Val watched this unfold with a mix of horror and elation. Surveying the entirety of the battlespace he saw the destruction unfolding around him. Burning ships, Imperial and Mandan, whirled aflame, disgorging their crews and contents in an ever growing debris cloud. The explosive ordnance and power cells within each of these behemoths detonating at random intervals, sending yet more debris twirling into the void.
The Empire had dealt more damage, retaining more active ships that now unleashed ceaseless salvos of fire upon the surviving, trapped Mandan vessels. Victory, came the thought, unbidden. It was a victory, certainly. A costly, messy and contemptible victory. How could he bear this? How could they continue like this. All elation faded as he sat in his powerless fighter, watching the battle in its dying minutes. The last Mandan cruiser blazed as six Imperial ships, including the Triumphant rained fire upon it, tearing it to shreds of burned, twisted metal. Then, with a final burst of fire from the Triumphant's turbolasers, the cruiser split apart at the midline and went silent. Victory had been achieved and Val breathed deeply as he reached for Chiko, for the one truth that remained to him.