For some reason, hearing the word 'Escort' from Ascension to describe the ships put him in mind of the Defiant; a ship from the only good series of those 'Star Trek' shows some of his fellow soldiers had enjoyed. The reality of the six ships moving to intercept the skull was quite different; a heavily armored, fist-like front, studded with weapons and missile bays.. strapped to a lightly armored cylinder-shaped engine structure, with a handful of particle cannons in a neat formation for point defense work.

These ships were not built to dance, or to have incoming fire from all directions. They were built to chase a fleeing enemy, and obliterate it. A team of these vessels would escort some big heavy battleship and make sure none of its victims were able to escape. Not built for long-range independent travel, in theory they should be able to outrun the 8AD while staying in-system. The specs of one of those ships was in front of him; a nest of particle cannons, heavy ones, pointed forward, mounted in armored sleeves that were built to ensure only a straight down-the-throat shot would take one out; otherwise you'd need to just pound the ship apart, or outmaneuver it and hit it from behind to take out the engines.

The Pulsewave cannon was, in theory, perfect for this; if the Scoutship were bigger than these escorts. The three larger ships that had Pulsewave cannon could each handle this group just fine; likely starting off with a single volley of said weapon, then swapping to particle cannons and missiles to finish them off.

Ordinarily, a scoutship like his would be doomed in this situation. Do some random damage to all six ships most likely, but then any one of them would be a match. But... this was no longer an ordinary scoutship... and he was no Republic pilot.

He could rain down death on these ships from far beyond their theoretical effective range, slamming particle cannon impacts on the spot they'd be eleven seconds in the future; if his guns were strong enough to bring down the shields of one of those monsters, and there were less of them, he could have strung out the fleet and wiped them all out... eventually. Probably.

Over the past hours, Ascension had taken the Particle cannons from around the ship, designed to scatter fire across an area to improve chances to strike something when aiming at a dodging opponent or a swarm of smaller enemies, and rearranged them into a forward-facing spike; tearing down internal hulls, rebuilding, bracing equipment; and creating an array of 8 barrels which would, if precisely aimed, penetrate the shields, armor, and hull of the enemy Escort-class ships with a single volley. Ideally, meaning he could take one of the six enemies out with each pull of the trigger.

The ship still looked, mostly, the same from the outside. It would be interesting to see the reactions of the Escorts when they started to fall.

***

Chok'sai hadn't had much chance for an independent command; and this wouldn't really qualify as one, in the end. The rogue extragalactic menace had managed to knock the neutronium they were guarding away as if he were playing some sport; which wouldn't be a big deal except the damned thing was heading straight for the sun, and was so massive it would need either a cruiser or several of his Escorts to stop it.

If it was allowed by, it would create nasty solar flares that would wreak havoc in the system for months or even years to come, and of course cost them an incredibly valuable pile of raw materials that could make enormous differences in the war effort.

All he needed to do was to get enough of his ships within range to slow it down before it hit the sun's corona. It shouldn't be a challenge; but for some reason, the crazy alien was actually moving to intercept.

That, in and of itself, wouldn't be a problem. Every one of his escort-class ships had twice the focused firepower of a scout, and more powerful engines. Without hitting FTL; a suicidal prospect here in the system; the scout was merely guaranteeing that it couldn't possibly escape.

There were only two downsides... those damnable Pulsewave Cannons being one of them. He might damage some of the flotilla; clearly the rogue was gambling that he would get an unusually lucky spread with the things... which, while remarkably unlikely, had happened before. A single Battlecruiser, the heaviest craft to carry such a gun, had once nailed seventeen enemy warships of equal weight in a single volley.... before dying to massed enemy fire minutes later. Still. The chance existed, as tiny as it might be.

And, of course... the Administrators had insisted that, if at all possible, the rogue be taken alive. He wasn't allowed to just fire missiles until the thing died, no. He had to give it a chance to surrender, then try to take out the engines.

To minimize the odds of an escape, he had his six ship alter their formation to move in pairs, each a bit further from the scout than the next. Each duo would be more than enough to slay the target; and so long as at least two reached the object, they should at least be able to spin it into a low orbit rather than letting it fall into the sun's core.

The enemy ship was, in theory, at the very edge of weapon's range now; most Republic fleets fired missiles whenever convenient, generally as soon as they were sure the victim couldn't simply jump away into warp, while particle cannons, traveling at over 90% of lightspeed, could be effective at several lightseconds; functionally several light-minutes against immobile targets before the particles would break down. But, of course... ships simply made small, random maneuvers as they traveled, to make sure that such a strike was impossible. Most likely, the ships would draw closer, and so as not to waste power, start firing at a light-second or two; long odds of a hit, but possible to get some glancing blows that could weaken shields; and the real deadly work would start at less than a light-second, when dodging became less and less effective.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

He shook his head. If the scoutship kept closing at this rate, it wouldn't even get into a good position to use that pulsewave. It was... Already firing?

He tapped the display as it flashed... and then one of the icons suddenly went red. Escort 4 just took critical damage. The enemy had just somehow nailed a full burst, direct to the ship's reactor, at over three light-seconds away! The core, the tiny speck of neutronium at the heart of every republic vessel, was undoubtedly hurtling through the void even now...

Tactical options ran through his head. If the enemy could nail one of his ships from that far away, with that kind of precision... He looked up. "Helm. Pull up. Keep our distance; we don't want to be anywhere near that scoutship. Max acceleration. If he looks like closing within three light-seconds... make an emergency warp jump."

The entire bridge crew; all good, solid, Marrick navy officers; all looked at him for a moment; before nodding and returning to their work. "Weapons. Dump our missiles. All of them, as quick as you can; force them to waste shots if they come after us."

He inhaled deeply... and tapped the comms. "Flotilla, this is Chok'Sai. Scatter and return to the fleet. Fire all missiles, avoid getting within three light-seconds. Scattered fire; we're not trying to kill him, but to make sure he wastes shots on missiles instead of us."

Even as he spoke, the second member of the pair, Escort #4, flashed; another neat, precise, core shot, right at 2.89 light-seconds range. The only way to hit with precision at that distance wasn't just to have absolute perfect aim; but to have a traitor on the other side somewhere, making sure that the random-walk movements of the victim synced up exactly how you wanted.

He stared at the display, as the four surviving ships scattered; using their higher acceleration to stay out of range of the scoutship... but also ensuring that the neutronium would end up buried in the star.

Would he lose his ship for this? Possibly. Command was usually rational; even losing your ship wasn't a fatal loss, so long as it wasn't your fault, you could usually get a new one within a year or two. But this.... that rock falling into the corona was worth more than any dozen fleets worth of ships.

He glanced at the crew around the ship, as the scoutship shifted its course; clearly just making sure nothing reached that rock on its way into the star. At least he'd saved four ships. For whatever that was worth.

***

"...Huh. Virtually instant response. He didn't assume it was luck, didn't try to avoid fire.. these Republic people are distressingly competent for Nazis... should I be worried about the missiles, Ascension?" Jason tilted his course a bit closer towards the sun, increasing speed just a bit further. It was too late now; even if the Escorts turned around right now, that neutronium was destined for a long, hot bath.

Hundreds of missiles; familiar anti-ship warheads, decoys, a wide variety, very similar to the ones in the launch bay of the 8AD, were heading his way in a scattered, random web; he'd need to move carefully, and fire for several minutes, to clean them all out. Unless he abruptly changed course.

~Negative. Numerous small, light, targets like this are perfect for the pulsewave cannon; and few of them will draw close enough to need interception unless you wish to hunt down the escorts. They seem to have been launched specifically to prevent you from pursuing them.~

Jason nodded... and made a few minor course adjustments. "Well then. Lets get the hell out of dodge. A shame we couldn't keep the skull, but at least we kept it out of the hands of the Republic." He held his hand over the Warp icon. As soon as it was clear.... there.

He tapped the button. Far closer to the sun than any Republic ship would've dared, the vessel abruptly accelerated; if it had started a moment earlier or later it would have struck debris and been splattered across the system. But now... he glanced at the designated target; one of the closer non-Republic worlds; and slowly shifted course, sweeping around a nearby star. The sort of speed these things were capable of were insane; but even once it was clear of the star system's outer reaches, it was still a matter of shifting a moment the wrong way and sending the ship splattering across the cosmos. In fact...

~For now, at least. The Republic will, inevitably, recover the skull, and utilize its neutronium. I have left a single drone in the outer system that will attempt to take steps to hinder it when it happens, but success is unlikely without outside assistance.~

Jason blinked... "Fuck...how... okay. We'll talk about this when I'm not focused on steering." The number of possibilities was insane. He had to keep his hand near the shutoff button as he weaved the ship back, forth, up, down... picking courses that would bring him in the right vague direction without killing them. It was comforting to know that, outside of an established travel lane, nobody else here in Andromeda... that he knew of... could take advantage of a warp drive like this; but still extremely stressful to hurtle through the lightyears on a path akin to walking a tightrope over instant death.

***

"Shut down all ordinance and turn back. There are likely survivors; in fact, with a clean hit like that, I suspect we only lost the engineering teams. Full burn; we don't want to lose them in the star alongside the neutronium."

The missiles all went inert at a single electronic command; but most of the crew simply stared at the display, as the escorts slowed, and turned back; the helmsman focusing on getting them close to the now-derelict starships in the inner system.

Chok'sai compared his own ship's sensors to the far more detailed reports of the system net. The 8AD had entered warp in the middle of a slingshot around the star, in a space where the odds of surviving doing so were less than one percent. Worse, it had entered at over a thousand times lightspeed; and accelerating as it went.

They were only seven light-years from the Republic border and active combat zones, and only twenty from relatively secure swarm space the republic couldn't pursue him effectively through... yet. They would need to limit themselves to a few hundred times light, at most, to be safe. And the cold math meant that either it would take them over a day for each of those light-years... or be at constant risk of losing ships. There were no gates nearby, no cleared travel lanes leading out into Swarm space.

So... if he were heading into Swarm space, and didn't go even a little faster than his last recorded speed... he would be out of the republic tomorrow. And in swarm territory the next day.

As his crew started rescue operations; using their shields to cushion the derelict Escort ship just as they'd planned to do to the neutronium mass; Chok'sai couldn't help but wonder. Was he headed off to join the Swarm? To turn pirate? He was supposed to be a tier zero, a close, direct descendant of the Founders. Why would he betray them like this? If this alien could do this with a scoutship he'd had barely any time at all to handle, all on his own... what could he do with time, and support from the swarm?