STS. LOG-015. (Patreon)

LOG-015.The fleet, positioned as it was, moved like a steadily tightening noose.Not quickly, given the sheer distances involved, but each nonetheless eventually falling fell into position, held back from burning forward only by orders from above.Frigates adjusted their vectors, engines flared in measured pulses. A destroyer ascended 'upwards' in order to acquire a superior firing position. Tactical data was fed into the network second by second, lines of engagement forming across the void as if drawn by the ghostly hand of some long dead Separatist admiral.These warships had belonged to someone once. Perhaps the same person. Perhaps separate officers. But now they were under my command, and their droid brains still remembered the combat that had eventually led them all to Bracca.The Victory class sat at the center of it all. Dangerous, proud, but also ultimately alone. A singular wedge of Imperial arrogance, though it looked significantly less powerful, surrounded by sharks as it currently was.I started things off relatively calmly, voice steady as I stepped up onto the dais at the center of Silent Guardian's bridge. "Signal all combat capable Munificents. Initiate full spectrum jamming. I want so much comms interference flooding this space that the local holonet relay melts trying to parse it."[AFFIRMATIVE.] Guardian intoned somewhere in the depths of our network, and I could already feel the electromagnetic haze beginning to thicken around us all.Dozens of specialised jamming antennae extended from the Munificents as they moved into their designated firing arcs, their transmitters spooling up with a rising whine that almost seemed to crackle across the sensor feeds of nearby vessels.Light distortion flickered across the void as the signal wash began to spill outward, bleeding through standard encryption layers and punching deep into the lower bands that served as the foundation for pretty much any long form communication in and out of the system."No distress signals. Silence them."I didn't necessarily need to say it, given that Silent Guardian already knew the plan ahead of time, but damn if it didn't feel good to play the merciless attacker.Eventually, the order for launch came, and the hangars opened.Vultures poured out like insects from a ruptured hive, a tidal wave of angular wings and glowing crimson eyes screaming into the void with the electronic skittering that had probably given more than a few clone pilots nightmares.Hundreds of them, painted in everything from the fresh grey of the fighters we'd been having the factory ship spit out, to the scorched remnants of old Separatist livery.Behind them came the rest of the assault force.LAATs banked out into the open, engines howling in the overbearing silence of the void as they formed tight strike groupings behind the swarm, their silhouettes brutal and unmistakable in comparison to the sleek bodies of their former enemies. ARC-170s and V-wings peeled off from the flanks, diving into formation, their hulls still scraped with Braccan dust and patched with cannibalised plating from the maintenance techs had been able to grab.It was looking to be a feeding frenzy, especially if the transports chock full of commando droids managed to get aboard amidst all the chaos. Of course, our enemy wasn't exactly just going to sit around and wait for us to kill it.Aboard the Victory, hangar bays cracked open as twin ion engines lit the dark in crisp, angular bursts. Soon enough, formation after formation of TIE fighters were bursting forth, the (if my knowledge of the timeline was still accurate) extremely new, still cutting edge replacements racing out to meet their war torn predecessors.…There was something vaguely poetic about that, I was sure of it.[INCOMING IMPERIAL FIGHTERS.]"Confirmed." I nodded, watching the display bloom red across the holotable.And then, of course, came my carefully manufactured idiot.A single, erratically swerving Munificent racing back to join the formation veered just slightly closer to the Victory than tactically advisable, only to fire a seething, lonely long range shot that clipped nothing but vacuum.The Golden Dividend peeled off immediately after, engines flaring to full as Tarantulas made a theatrical but no less effective exit, just barely scraping past the volley of return fire sent his way instead of the advancing swarm.Kalani, of course, did not react to the display. His attention remained on the tactical hologram, eyes flicking between fleet markers as the distance began to close between the two opposing forces."They are moving to intercept our outermost picket lines. Their forward shields are at full strength, and their starboard flank is heavily reinforced."He paused, thinking, and I elected to give the old timer a chance to stretch his mental muscles in favour of interrupting."...There is a visible vulnerability in their rear due to their engine housing configuration. A typical fault of Republic...and thus Imperial, star destroyers. Reinforcement panels have been removed for weight optimisation. It is…predictable."I let out a small hum, even as I continued to track the receding forms of our Vultures, until even my optics couldn't keep up with them any longer."Then we assault her backside?"Kalani nodded, ignorant of my crude attempt at a joke."Affirmative. If disabled, the vessel will be unable to reposition and may be forced to retreat. Or fall."I pondered that for a moment, before shaking my head."There can be no retreat. We can't afford to allow this vessel to leave."The startling reality had been present the entire time, of course, but it only really hit me just as the Vultures met the TIEs in a howling collision somewhere between the two fleets.Lamenting the lack of lips to purse, I stepped slightly forward, eagerly watching the resulting furball grow and bloom."Target their engines and guns. Feed them everything we have."Then I paused, glancing at my counterpart."Oh, and prepare boarding parties. I want that ship."It was most likely just a trick of the light, but for just a second the general's photoreceptors seemed to brighten."By your command."—Imperial Pilot Designation THX-4426 preferred not to use his name while flying.He wasn't superstitious or anything, he just didn't like the idea of dying with 'Braylen' echoing around in his own helmet. Something about that felt smaller. Like the galaxy didn't need a final whisper of personal identity to go along with a rapidly decompressing cockpit.The Empire agreed with that attitude, so he kept it simple.He was 4426, he flew a TIE/ln starfighter, and he was damn good at it.The fighter itself shook slightly under him as he rolled left, cutting across the edge of a firing lane just as a bolt of plasma split the void where he'd been a second earlier. The inertial dampeners hissed, wings singing with strain as he tucked into the tail of a retreating Vulture."Two-six to command, got one slipping between our upper screen. Requesting clearance to pursue.""Negative, two-six! Maintain tight formation and prioritise interception!"He didn't curse, but he really wanted to. Kriffing old war trash was putting up far more of a fight than was reasonable.Instead, he throttled back just a hair and snapped upward into a claw roll, redirecting across the flank of a nearby squad mate just in time to catch a trailing LAAT that had drifted too far forward, its droid occupant evidently not actually built for proper piloting.The twin ion cannons on his fighter barked to life, spitting green hot bursts into the larger craft's engine block. The hull peeled open in a flash of quickly vacuum smothered flame, the ship tumbling sideways with all the grace of an old, dying animal, before vanishing behind a blossoming trail of debris."One down." He muttered, adjusting his vector.It was reassuring, in its own way. Sure, there were a lot of the droids, but they were predictable. Outdated scrap being commanded by either some pirate with delusions of grandeur, or a malfunctioning tactical droid that didn't know the war was over.Either way, they needed to be dealt with for a safe and secure galaxy.It was around that thought that 4426 was rather firmly reminded of just why the droid army of the CIS was a threat to the galaxy he claimed to serve, namely because that's just about when the actual swarm hit.They came in from behind, from the flanks, from angles no sane pilot would've ever tried to fly a formation through. But the Vultures didn't care, thanks to lacking anything resembling weak, easily damaged flesh. Instead, they were hulls of durasteel, governed by numbers and predictable, suicidal programming that proved all too effective despite the losses it accrued.There were hundreds of them at least, all twisting in unnatural patterns, forming impossible lattices of movement, flying in ways that no organic would dare attempt for fear of snapping their own neck.His TIE fighter barely let him keep up, even as he banked right and squeezed the trigger, a Vulture exploding in a satisfying crackle of short lived flame and twisting metal. Another clipped his starboard panel on the way past, sparks flashing against his viewport as he spiralled down through a mess of friendly and enemy fire alike.Green bolts flashed across the stars as red return fire lit the void like arterial spray, and amidst it all, the Persecutor opened up, its heavy blaster cannons spitting beams that slammed into Separatist hulls in radiant arcs of emerald discharge.4426 dropped altitude and throttled up, riding the undercurrent of an explosion as one of the older V-wings (most of them were still being piloted by clones, last he knew) screamed overhead, its wing burning and trailing coolant.He caught another Vulture in his sights and clipped it on the pass, one wing sparking off into the dark as the droid spun out of control, right into the mass behind it.It felt good, briefly. A sharp flash of control amidst the chaos. Then his sensor pinged a missile lock.He yanked the stick hard left, snapped into a half barrel, killed throttle, flared reverse and dumped energy to the engines…until the heat signature vanished.The lack of an impact of any kind left him glancing about uncertainly, tongue licking at his lips from beneath his helmet.Then 4426 noticed the buzzing.It was faint, at first. Like comms static almost. But it was getting louder, enough that he glanced up from his controls, finally pinpointing the source.There was something clinging to the viewport, staring back at him as three bulbous crimson photoreceptors met his eyes.4426 froze.There was a second of absolute silence before the buzz droid almost eagerly snapped to life, multiple appendages activating with inaudible clicks that he could only imagine, the limbs moving like angry knives as they began sawing into the canopy.He screamed as that horrific buzzing intensified from all sides, desperately rolling his fighter round and round in an attempt to dislodge them, right up until his viewport popped off.There wasn't a violent hiss, owing to the fact that your average TIE fighter wasn't actually pressurised, with life support systems contained in the pilot's suit and helmet which formed a hermetic seal. Something he was briefly thankful for.Of course as a result of that particular design choice, 4426 wasn't sucked into space. He was swarmed by homicidal droids however, screaming and flailing further still as said aforementioned hermetic seal was forcibly broken by tiny, grasping limbs.The TIE fighter detonated a second later, a blossom of white hot shrapnel flaring against the wall of battle.—The Victory was slowly but surely bleeding to death.Not very obviously, but I could see it. The way her formation had fractured. The way her fighter screen had started strong and were now actively being hunted down by designated hunter killer squadrons.It really wasn't a fair fight for the poor bastards, in truth.In the midst of Guardian's bridge, the holotable was still alive with motion. Red markers flickered at the edges of the field, Vultures collapsing under return fire by the dozens, even as they focused all of their effort on harassing far larger prey, now that their competition had been soundly routed.And still, the Star Destroyer turned, leaving me to voice a question as I watched the massive wedge of a vessel tilt starboard, seemingly angling for another firing lane.Kalani nodded beside me, never looking up from the remote footage that had him so preoccupied."A predictable tactic. Her primary batteries remain concentrated on the fore. Maximum output can only be achieved with direct line of sight."I tracked the movement on the table, watched the way our ring of warships flexed just outside her effective zone, flowing like water away from her guns.Of course, our own turbolasers spat across her shields in timed volleys whenever we could get into range without getting swatted at like flies, steadily chipping away at their prey, layer by layer.Feeling satisfied, I tapped two mechanical fingers against the end of the table."Mm. Maintain spacing with minimum orbital range. Keep her turning, but don't give her anything to lock on to."[AFFIRMATIVE.] Silent Guardian's 'voice' felt borderline bloodthirsty now that the initial sacrifice of a pair of scrap Munificents and several defunct transports pretending to charge in for a ram had largely removed the threat of the Victory's missiles, which in turn had allowed the battle to evolve into even more of a one sided slaughter. [FLEET SPACING HOLDING. ORBITAL INTERLOCK AT EIGHTY SEVEN PERCENT.]Kalani shifted slightly, photoreceptors taking in the detail that had drawn my attention as well. "Their fighter screen has fallen."The display confirmed it. Pockets of blue had collapsed entirely, with the TIE fighters and other supporting craft all but gone. In the end, the Vulture swarm had simply punctured too deeply, and far too quickly.The few survivors were retreating back towards the ship now, or fleeing outright. I idly directed several squadrons to ensure they were intercepted before they made it back to the relative safety of either the nearby planet or their now empty hangars.Cruel? Yes. Merciless? Also yes. But no matter what a small part of me felt, the super tactical droid within me knew that this was war, and the last thing I needed were those pilots making it to Bracca and trying to pull guerilla warfare or some other shit.Ignorant of my own internal calculus, Kalani stared at the flickering marker that represented the star destroyer's bridge. "A recommendation. Override current targeting protocols and redirect Vulture swarms to launch a frontal ramming strike. If we cripple the Victory's command section, we will decapitate its leadership."I paused.The logical part of me, the part that Kalani was also composed of, knew he was right. A few hundred drones to act as sacrifical bullets and this would be over in minutes.But that wasn't the goal. Why settle for a small win like that when I could sieze the whole pie, right here and now?"Denied. I want the ship for future reference. The bridge included."Kalani didn't move, considering my answer. And then…"You wish to map out the design for the battles to come…I accept your logic."I leaned closer to the projection, glowering slightly as I swept an arm across the field. "Signal the salvaged Munificents. Break formation and advance along vector five-one-seven."The general glanced at me, considering the order before no doubt calculating my intentions."Three."I nodded."They're lightly armoured, low priority assets, and barely space worthy. The cost in both time and materials in order to repair them is lesser than the value they can bring here and now.""Efficient."It was the closest he could get to a compliment, I was pretty sure.Nevertheless, the new orders were relayed just about instantly. The three selected frigates peeled away from the ring with precision befitting their droid brains, falling into a tight, triangular formation as they began their run toward our target's aft.Naturally, her captain noticed what we were up to pretty quickly, and soon enough the Victory class had started to shift, struggling to turn, sluggish now with a thousand small wounds inflicted by a swarm of gnats running along her hull.Too little, too late.The Munificents cut low across the ship's underbelly, angling for the exposed engine array just beneath the rear structural spine. And then, of course, came the cost, as one of the Munificents vanished beneath a sea of green turbolaser fire.I could admit that it was rather pretty looking, even as it exploded under a withering fusillade, caught broadside before it could cut low enough to escape. Soon enough its midsection had torn and split apart like wet paper, scattering fire and wreckage before the flames were snuffed out by vacuum, leaving little more than shattered metal to float off into the abyss."Mark the loss.""Affirmative."Satisfied that Kalani would follow through with the order, I observed as the remaining two ships made it through, reaching the exposed engines and opening fire without hesitation, their twin broadsides slamming into the Victory's aft shields mercilessly.The screens held for a moment. Then they flickered, and a moment later, the entire fleet had closed in and begun adding their fire to the onslaught.Missiles. Turbolasers. Extremely makeshift kinetic rounds from our cobbled together transports. Even a few rogue LAATs that had nothing better to do took potshots on the pass.The Venator currently nestled in between a veritable pack of Munificents also contributed a fair bit in spite of over two thirds of her guns failing to actually work, and for just a second I pretended that the battle carrier looked rather vindictive as she slugged her replacement in the face.Regardless of imagination however, the space around the Victory lit up in a staggering wall of fire, the engine block vanishing into molten debris as shields failed and the ship shuddered beneath the combined assault.Quite expected, considering the sheer amount of glass cannons we'd had levelled at her, but still."The target is vulnerable. Shall we dispatch boarding parties?"The stare I levelled at Kalani made my answer fairly obvious, I liked to think. Though just in case he missed the point..."Deploy everything, general. I want our newest asset intact."