Bleeding (V)

When, after seven minutes of intense combat, the Chimera approached the immobilized Mark-I strike frigate disabled by ion cannons, identified as having fled from the Fenn system, the first reinforcements began to arrive. They certainly looked the part, but they had also done their share of damage.

As the two "Strikes" neared our destroyers, the situation grew serious: one fully operational MC30S from the Ord Segra system and another intact Mark-I from the Blenjeel system appeared. Following that, two more Nebulon-Bs, damaged in the Womrik system battle, materialized.

The evening's calm had evaporated.

"Combat formation," I commanded. "The Chimera will focus on the MC30s frigate, while the Stormhawk should engage the Mark-I attack frigate. The 'Strikes' will take on the 'Nebulon-Bs'. Take steps to immobilize and capture the escort frigates; we will need them. Not a single rebel must escape the system."

"Orders are being transmitted," Pellaeon confirmed.

"Excellent, Captain," I observed that the enemy appeared to be operating in a unified formation, designating an attack frigate as their flagship. It made sense— the MC30s has weaker armor. Once its shields are down, it becomes highly vulnerable, though still quite dangerous with its cluster munitions. — The air wings of this unit must be significantly depleted after engaging our ships. Therefore, send all fighters to intercept their MLAs. Have the bombers completed their rotation yet?

"Yes, sir. We are ready to execute any order," Pellaeon replied.

"What are your suggestions, Captain?" I inquired.

"Our combined air group should be sufficient to neutralize the enemy's small craft," Pellaeon said, glancing at C'baoth, who remained seated and unmoved. "I propose sending a squadron of bombers, protected by a squadron of interceptors, to engage the MC30s and inflict damage before it can unleash its cluster munitions effectively."

"Accepted," I agreed. "Have the StormHawk follow the same strategy. Target the control room, engines, and hyperdrive. If it can't escape, it can at least drift until the second coming of Darth Vader."

"Well said, sir," Pellaeon smiled. "With your permission, I will take a break from turning this Mon Calamarian contraption into rubble."

"For heaven's sake," I nearly exclaimed.

"Of course, Captain," I said.

Green flashes of fire marked the space between us and the enemy formation. The makeshift strategy proved ineffective: anyone who thought that four somewhat damaged and less powerful ships could contend with two Imperial-class Star Destroyers, one of which was a "deuce," was clearly overestimating their capabilities. Not to mention the emphasis placed on the ultimate capabilities of the MC30s.

The attack frigate, a conversion of the Rendili Dreadnought-class heavy cruiser, boasted greater maneuverability compared to its predecessor. It was well-armed, with strong shields and armor— for its class, at least. However, it would not endure long against a Star Destroyer. Noticing that the Strikes were engaging the enemy formation's rear, drawing the Nebulon-Bs and the remnants of their air wings away from us, I focused on the MC30s.

The ship was... unique.

It was fast and well-armed. Despite the relentless assault from the Chimera, it continued to retaliate. Its shield was depleting, but slower than desired. I wondered why that was?

Reviewing data on this ship type from the central computer, I noted information provided by Imperial Intelligence.

Dimensions. Internal volume. Main and auxiliary hyperdrive types. Crew size. Troop capacity... It seemed that the Imperials weren't the only ones capable of shipbuilding missteps.

Despite its obvious advantages over Imperial combat starships— with deflector shield generators positioned under the hull rather than on it— this frigate lacked an air wing. Designed as a support vessel, it could have at least accommodated one or two squadrons. Such support would have been beneficial.

I did appreciate the idea of shield generators placed beneath the armor. Since destroying the shield projectors renders the ship defenseless, it was a very clever design. Well done, Mon Calamari. 

The frigate's armor was unfortunate—once the shields were down...

A blinding flash interrupted my thoughts.

"The air wing is suffering losses," Lieutenant Tshel reported, his voice calm and measured. "The MC30s frigate is using cluster munitions. Three TIE fighters have been destroyed."

"Maintain distance outside the kill zone," Pellaeon ordered. "We cannot allow this ship to use its cluster munitions against the Chimera."

"Yes, Captain," the senior helmsman replied.

The sight was dramatic—a frigate resembling a sea creature spewing dozens of munitions, which detonated at a distance from the frigate, causing widespread destruction. It was both impressive and terrifying. If one of these bombs had hit the hangar, it would have torn through the ISD.

"Bombers are on target," Pellaeon said. "StormHawk squadrons are attacking the engines. I've directed an assault on the bridge."

"Try to leave something intact for study," I instructed. "Preferably, the component housing the deflector shield generator."

"Why, sir?" Pellaeon asked, puzzled.

"Follow the order, Captain," I insisted.

The Stormhawk employed a straightforward tactic—taking down the deflectors on the Mark-I's tail to immobilize it. Once achieved, there would be no hurry.

The 'Strikes,' on the other hand, aimed to cause minimal damage to the engines while fulfilling their primary objectives. Nebulon-Bs were designed at Kuat shipyards for convoy escort missions. They excelled in escort and anti-small craft roles but were ill-suited for line combat, especially against Imperial Star Destroyers or cruisers.

Yet, the enemy appeared resolute.

"The MC30s has expended half of its cluster munitions," reported from the "pit." "Three salvos remaining."

"Excellent," Pellaeon approved. "Let them waste their main ammunition. After that, they'll pose no further threat."

The MC30s was no match for the Star Destroyer.

It was unclear why the enemy chose to advance rather than retreat.

Yes, they were somewhat organized despite our communication jamming. Though not a complete frequency blackout, a loophole always exists. I suspected our "good" Jedi Master might be involved.

I turned my chair and looked at him.

He had been orchestrating the sector attack for nearly six hours. His hair and beard were drenched with sweat, dripping down his face. His clothes were soaked, and the sour odor of sweat filled the bridge.

His veins were bulging as if he were in a grueling competition. It appeared a trickle of blood had begun flowing from his nose. We needed to conclude the battle before C'baoth became incapacitated—I still required him. The demonstration in the Dufilvian sector was not only a test of his and the fleet's coordination. A large-scale offensive with a single objective was a command challenge.

"That's enough," Pellaeon's voice held a note of triumph. "Fall back. Bombers, eliminate the MC30s' anti-air guns!"

I watched as stars of fiery infernos from cluster munitions surrounded our enemy, none reaching the Chimera. The "deuce" increased speed to close in on the enemy, whose rear was already ablaze from proton missiles and bombs. The Chimera's TIE bombers and interceptors shattered the ship's control room, now targeting the side of the frigate not covered by the Star Destroyer's fire.

A groan was heard. I glanced at C'baoth, who began swaying unsteadily. The old man seemed uncomfortable. It was unclear whether the stress was mental or physical. I hoped it wouldn't affect...

"One Nebulon-B has been destroyed," Lieutenant Tshel reported.

What's happening? I had ordered them to be captured!

"C'baoth!" I called out to the master. "What's going on?!"

"It's difficult..." he gasped.

I had confirmed what I needed to know. The old man's limits were evident. Almost seven hours of commanding fleet ships. More than a dozen ships, hundreds of thousands of personnel. An impressive sortie result.

"Continue executing the order concerning the MC30s," I commanded. "Inform the Assault Hawk to finish off the attack frigate. Cruisers, immobilize the last escort frigate."

"Another Strike, accompanied by a Carrack, has entered the system," Lieutenant Tshel reported.

"Affiliation?" Pellaeon asked.

"Ours," Tshel replied. "From the Womrik system—raider and trophy. The remaining ships will arrive in ten, twenty-seven, and forty-four and a half minutes..."

"Direct the newcomers to assist with capturing the Nebulon-B," I instructed, observing as the green beams of plasma from the heavy turbolaser weapons tore into the now defenseless MC30c. The impacts of our guns and proton torpedoes had disabled most of its weaponry and rendered key systems inoperative. The Chimera's fire had melted the deflectors, which were futilely attempting to recover—the ship was doomed. Its crew needed to understand this. C'baoth needed to communicate this to them!

"The second Nebulon-B is signaling surrender," Pellaeon reported. "Their reactor is damaged. The rebels don't want to die."

"Nobody wants to," I noted. "Send boarding and prize parties."

"The attack frigate has shut down its engines," came another report. "The ship is riddled with damage, and the life support system is compromised. The main reactor has been deactivated. The commander requests that the crew be removed and treated as prisoners of war."

"Let the StormHawk handle their issues," I ordered. "If the ship can be repaired, we won't object..."

The new flash was so intense that even the polarization systems of the cabin windows struggled to cope. I had to shield my eyes with my hand.

"The MC30s frigate has exploded," Pellaeon said, shielding himself from the glare.

"They blew it up," I said, glancing at C'baoth, who was now sitting relaxed again. "How are we faring in the Crondre system?"

"Your forces are relatively secure," the Jedi clone opened his bloodshot eyes. "The strike frigates have been defeated. The Mon Calamari star cruiser has sustained significant damage."

"But it managed to escape?" I asked. C'baoth nodded affirmatively.

"Ship damage?"

"Moderate," the Jedi struggled to lift his legs. It was a struggle for him. "Enemy resistance has been crushed. Captain Aban is landing troops."

It was unfortunate that the enemy battleship had escaped.

On the plus side, the objectives were achieved.

Overall, the operation's results seemed satisfactory, but there were still concerns. The raid needed completion, the ships required repairs, and a thorough analysis was necessary. Although the outcome of the sortie was clear.

"Captain Pellaeon," I addressed the Chimera's commander. "Order General Covell to land troops on the surface. It's time to secure everything the base on the planet Ord-Pardron can offer us."

"Should the crews start preliminary repairs?" Pellaeon inquired. I nodded in affirmation.

"Give special attention to the trophies," I instructed.

Even if the raid hadn't been intended to capture such trophies, anything was better than none.

"And contact outpost NL-1," I ordered. "It's time for our good friend Yazuo Vane to make an appearance."