That last chapter was just filler to get something out there, I was really busy in school and that’s sadly all I managed to write out.

Without further ado, the next chapter.

0018 Hours, 15:3:22 (GrS), Venator-Class Star Destroyer Intrepid

“Sir, we will be in optimal range for our heavy turbolasers at one hundred fifty thousand kilometers in three minutes and thirty seconds,” the weapons officer reported as Tarkin nodded.

Technically speaking, the DBY-827 heavy turrets could attack targets much further out, but the fact that the targeting computers were not designed to establish positive locks that far away, no thanks to those cost cutting bishwags employed at KDY and LeGrange, meant they took a lot longer to destroy enemy warships, even when used at full power since energy only dissipates with distance. Even then, turbolaser bolts were relatively slow and an enemy would easily be able to dodge the brunt of a salvo from that far out.

Because of those facts, most warships of the home galaxy used massed weapon strikes to destroy opponents, with a combination of heavy turbolasers and lighter weapons to overwhelm shields. It was not common practice to engage at long range, to do so would mean all power would need to be shunted to the turbolasers; though they would be far more powerful, they drew power away from other critical sections of the ship in order to fire effectively. With longer ranges added in, accuracy counted much more (but any crewman worth his credits could manually zero them in within a few volleys). At ranges like these, it was not unheard of nor rare for small, maneuverable craft to be able to dodge blaster cannons.

"Sir! Energy levels in the UNSC fleet are skyrocketing, they are about to fire!" a bridge officer screeched.

"From this range!? How can they hit us from that far away!?" Tarkin demanded.

"Enemy ships firing!"

Aayla looked on the holoscreen to see energy coalesce for a split second on the bows of the UNSC ships, some with one ball of energy and others with several, the flagship with four, before yellow streaks of light shot out from the enemy ships.

"128 large projectiles incoming in six seconds!" the sensor officer screamed.

"Take evasi-"

The Admiral didn’t get to finish his command as the MAC rounds thrashed the Republic fleet.

The result of 600 and 900 ton tungsten slugs slamming into the fleet at a quarter of the speed of light was catastrophic.

The Acclamators that got hit had had their hulls gutted by the MAC rounds, their shields seemingly doing nothing to stop the carnage; fragments of their broken and shattered triangular hulls were launched into the void, to become little more than a scrapper’s next paycheck.

The Victorys hardly did any better, some had their shields drained, others were hit multiple times; the bridge sections shearing off, reactor cores pierced and detonated, one was split in two right down the middle.

The larger star destroyers were shown to be superior to their screens and escorts, taking two or so direct hits to take down the shields, although it seemed that they were intentionally singled out. Several received a barrage of three or even four slugs, leaving seven Venators destroyed outright, three more were so badly damaged they needed to abandon ship, and two of the Imperators were destroyed.

Even the Intrepid itself was hit. One round slammed into the ship, the shields dropped to ten percent and shook the ship with such force that everyone was thrown to the floor, warning klaxons immediately blaring in response. The Terrans seemingly ignored the smaller escort ships screening the star destroyers.

"What in the nine Corellian hells did they hit us with?" Tarkin exclaimed while recovering as Aayla helped Shaak Ti off of the deck.

"S-sir, it appears we were hit b-by an advanced mass driver of sorts," an officer sputtered out.

Tarkin cursed. "What are the casualties?"

"By the Force..." the officer muttered. “We lost forty six ships in that attack sir. Two Imperators, seven Venators, twelve Victorys, twenty one Acclamators, and four Dreadnaughts, most of them with all hands."

At that, Aayla felt the lives of those lost through the force, thousands upon thousands of miserable souls dying. Never had she felt the loss of so many men in a single strike.

This is the real war they had been talking about.

Tarkin straightened himself out. "I want all ships to shunt all available power to their heavy turbolasers and bolster their forward particle shields. Divert power from our ray shields, it seems that these primitives haven’t the knowledge to make energy weapons." Tarkin tried to regain some of his crew’s confidence, and perhaps some of his own.

"Aye aye sir,” multiple officers promptly responded as a wave of ARC-170's shot by the twisted metal scrap heap that was once the Venator Basilisk, breaking up from the secondary explosions ripping through its interior.

Tarkin simply grunted, unaffected by the macabre scene of scrap and crewmen floating outside the bridge’s windows. "Range?"

"245,000 kilometers and closing."

Aayla could sense the panic and fear tingeing the crew's thoughts, pushed away by their military training and ceaseless drill.

Looking out the bridge window, she realized she had become used to being able to see the starships opposing you in battle.

Here, against the glistening backdrop of space, there were no signs that there was someone trying to kill you at all. The battle, for now, was taking place far out of range, and the Republic had yet to get a shot in.

Then as she was looking out at the location of the UNSC fleet, the Force warned her of yet more danger.

“Admiral, radiation levels in the fleet are spiking!”

Suddenly 51 fine bluish beams of energy reached out at the fleet, striking them near instantaneously.

Two of the beams struck one of the leading Imperators, the Casbonore.

The first beam immediately depleted its already weakened shields, one of the shield domes blew out from the stress.

That left the second beam to hit a moment after, slicing into the ship’s hull, burning clean through the armor in split seconds, piercing straight through the reactor and coming out of the rear engine section. The once mighty warship exploded outwards in a brilliant flash of light that caused Aayla to shield her eyes.

Dozens of beams swatted the smaller escort ships down; two Dreadnaughts were obliterated, an Arquitens was disabled, and ten Acclamators ceased to exist.

Two beams simultaneously sliced through a Venator, others struck a Victory and another Venator, all of them either violently detonating, or in the case of the second Venator, lethal radiation from the beam immediately killed all on board, turning the ship into a gargantuan paper weight.

UNSC Warhound

"Twenty-seven more kills, energy projectors on the Warhound and the carriers are recharging and will be ready to fire again in five minutes," MacArthur listed off while Admiral White began to strategize his next move.

“Focus all our fire on their capital ships,” White commanded. “If they get close to us, their guns will chew us apart.”

Although the secondary batteries could hold their own in a knife fight, the main batteries on the Republic ships would wreak havoc on his fleet.

White needed to keep range with them, but the speed at which the two fleets were closing in on each other made it impossible. He would have to get off at least one more MAC salvo to stand a chance of winning this battle.

Even if he did get that salvo off, he was outgunned in the coming broadside and it would be awhile until he could recharge his energy weapons.

Although the situation was dire, Admiral White had a plan. After the next MAC salvo, he would split the fleet up into 2 groups, one going ‘up’ on the y-axis below the Republic fleet and one below, running a gauntlet of fire with MACs, secondary coilguns or railguns, missiles, and energy weapons. Once the battlegroups intersected each other, they would retreat away from the colony and regroup.

Then, the opposing fleets would turn back around on each other to try and fire on their opponent’s rear, granted they remained on their current projected trajectories, but the outcome all depended on who pulled it off first.

Due to the nature of the Republic's weaponry, he would be under almost constant fire at every moment while his own fleet would be unable to engage with their primary MACs as they turned to fire upon the Republic ships, being relegated to their much less powerful secondary batteries and missiles.

However, he was almost certain the Republic would use the opportunity to engage the space station, it would be defenseless save for its measly fighter complement and whatever point defense weapons it had until he could double back to the planet.

He did see a solution though.

He would use his fighters and bombers to harass the enemy and draw out a portion of their fleet and destroy it if he got the chance. He would then use the fourth planet of the system, the large gas giant which went by the names of Alpha Rendara IV or ‘T7,’ to slingshot himself around so he could have a clear shot at the Republic fleet no matter where they were, unless they made the mistake of following him, which was what he wanted them to do anyway.

The more he spread them apart, the easier it would be for him to pick apart the fleet and make up for his numbers.

He just had to do enough damage in the early game, then the endgame would be a walk in the park

Relatively speaking at least.

"MAC guns at seventy percent charge. Ready to fire in thirty seconds.”

Intrepid

The decks of the ship shook. Its engines were being pushed to the redline as it closed distance with those responsible for the deaths of thousands of Republic sailors and soldiers.

"It was some sort of fine plasma, travelling near the speed of light!" a crewman called out to Tarkin.

"What is its weakness?" Tarkin asked, staring blankly at the fleet before him.

He still wasn’t impressed, and if he was he certainly was doing his best to hide it. If he showed any fear or uncertainty, his crew would lose faith in him and his ability to win the battle.

The most he could do was tap his foot on the deck and gaze impatiently out of the window. The heavy turrets were fully charged and began to rotate to meet the UNSC fleet which was now a gathering of twinkling lights 240,000 kilometers away.

"Sir, simply due to the nature of those weapons, it takes a long time and a large amount of power to charge up and fire. It appears only their larger ships are equipped with such weapons," a crewman reported.

"Our turbolasers are almost within range and will be ready to fire in ten seconds."

Tarkin clenched his fist. "Have the fleet fire all at once in concentrated volleys as soon as they are able."

“Entering range in seven, six—The enemy fleet is firing!"

Again, 128 MAC slugs slammed into the fleet, taking even more out of the fight in fantastic displays of raw, unadulterated kinetic energy.

However, thanks to Tarkin’s orders to focus the particle shields to the front, only 32 ships, 11 Acclamators, 12 Victorys and 9 Venators, were destroyed, leaving the fleet's strength at 205 combat ships.

Tarkin finally lost his cool and calm composure, evident as Aayla felt raw anger and hate brewing up in his mind.

"Fire!" Tarkin spat, throwing his fist down onto one of the bridge’s window sills.

Thousands of bright green and blue plasma bolts and laser beams flung out from the fleet towards the UNSC lines, which had split into two groups of 40 ships apiece.

Some of the bolts missed their mark, but most of them struck the UNSC ships.

The UNSC's shields, unlike those of the home galaxy, were believed to be a combination of ray and particle shields, made up of a field of energized particles, arranged in thousands of connecting octagonal sections in an oval-spheroid shape around the vessel. They were more powerful than those of the Republic, that was for sure. After all, they had been built to take hits from Covenant weapons.

But they could still only withstand so much power.

Each bolt or beam carried at least a megaton of energy.

The shields of the UNSC vessels flared brilliant gold as they were struck with plasma and lasers. More and more Terran vessels no longer shone their golden light, indicating that their shields had given out, leaving their armored hulls to take the punishment.

The cruisers and carriers tried their best to take the brunt of the barrage, but they couldn’t shield all of the frigates and destroyers.

6 frigates exploded as the bolts pounded through the titanium battleplate, devastating the interior of the ships.

The heavier destroyers fared better, their thicker armor lasting longer, but still four destroyers were hulled and shattered. One destroyer rolled out of the formation, belching flame from its engine compartment.

The cruisers and capital ships were all intact, save for a Marathon who fell victim to two vengeful Imperators. Both focused all their firepower at it until its shields cracked and its center was blown open by thousands of direct hits. Secondary explosions cascaded from it while escape pods hastily launched away from it.

The crew of the Intrepid cheered as volley after volley impacted across the grey hulls of the Terren vessels.

Then the UNSC fired back with their secondary armaments.

Hundreds of bolts the same yellow hue as their spinal cannons shot out from the distant ships.

Tarkin’s ship shook. The stressed shield generator struggled to keep up with the damage being taken.

Even Aayla was beginning to be concerned that even if the ship held up against the barrage, it would shake itself apart maneuvering afterwards.

The enemy was concentrating its fire on only a few ships at a time, but every ship received harassing attacks from one or two Terran batteries. Eight more ships were tallied off from the bombardment. Three Venators, two Victorys, and an Imperator were left with nothing more than burnt shells of metal

The eighth ship, an Acclamator, had fallen prey to the UNSC flagship. No less than two dozen of those weapons brought down its shields and turned its bridge and engine block to scrap.

Aayla was surprised at this whole ordeal, never had she seen two fresh fleets thrash each other about like this.

The battle was turning into a slugfest, the two sides were trading blows left and right. Even with a 3-to-1 advantage, a Republic victory was still unassured.

Aayla watched in curiosity as the Terran fleet separated into two groups; one passed ‘above’ the Republic fleet and the other ‘below.’

Fortunately for Aayla and Tarkin, twelve more UNSC ships were taken out during the maneuver, left to drift aimlessly with the only marker of their presence the fires raging throughout their hulls and metal plating melting off.

Tarkin cursed aloud at the simple design of the Republic ships. The Terran fleet passing below his own was only receiving a couple of volleys since nearly all of their main guns were on the dorsal hull.

Tarkin highlighted an Imperator battlegroup on the display. "Have this element spin on their axis to bring their weapons to bear on the cluster beneath them. Ready the fleet to fire all of their proton torpedoes and concussion missiles at once. That will be the decisive blow to cripple their fleet." He commanded.

The weapon's officer carried out his orders in a sense of wonder.

It was strange for that many missiles and torpedoes to be fired in one barrage, but it would be the end of the battle should Tarkin’s gambit prove successful. A single torpedo or missile, being as monstrously sized as they were, would certainly cripple any Terran vessel with a hit to a critical compartment.

UNSC Warhound

"Dammit we can’t get this close to them! They are chewing us apart!" Admiral White cursed. He slammed his fist down onto one of the computer stations while another volley slammed into the unshielded side of his flagship. White’s teeth rattled from the hull’s constant shuddering.Turbolasers began to eat away at its thick armor belt. To prevent one side from taking too much damage, the nearly three kilometer long warship rotated to even out the effects, like a piece of corn on the cob.

The enemy fleet was wisely orienting itself to bring its full firepower to bear.

“I want our secondary batteries nailing those ships, yesterday dammit!” White proclaimed. The Spitfire and Sentry coilguns had been a staple of space combat since the Insurrection, and White hoped it would give him the edge when it came to volume of fire, or at least even the odds.

The Mark 15 Breakwater turrets were an entirely different beast, a single slug from the Mark 15 could gut an unshielded frigate from stem to stern.

Both fleets would soon be exchanging broadsides as soon as the Republic fleet was fully orientated. Things were going to get really nasty really quick.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Finally, the heavy naval coilgun batteries opened up. The triple-barreled turret of one of the Warhound’s Breakwater guns decimated a Dreadnaught-type heavy destroyer, the rounds striking the engine block, midsection, and bridge of the ship simultaneously. The entire fleet soon did the same, pounding away at Republic vessels with their weapons.

"VAMPIRE! VAMPIRE! Missiles inbound!" an ensign announced, with a few hundred missiles swarming towards the beleaguered UNSC fleet.

Admiral White cocked his eyebrows at the small number of missiles they had fired, as well as how much slower they were than his own Archers, which had already achieved their own targeting lock.

Little did the Republic know, the UNSC ships were over-equipped, to say the least, to deal with such a threat. Though they had little use during the Human-Covenant War due to the nature of the Covenant's plasma technology, they still knew how deadly missiles could be. Even the Covenant did, as their ships were also equipped with highly advanced, highly effective point defense.

As the missiles neared their targets, each ship receiving at least a dozen missiles apiece, the already activated point defense guns seemed to come alive and, in a split-second, swung around violently and began tracking their targets, aided by shipboard AI.

Once the missiles closed the distance to 5,000 kilometers out, a hair’s breadth away in space, mere seconds, if not less, away from hitting their targets, each cannon began spitting out high-explosive incendiary and flak rounds of various calibers at a rate of over 5,000 rounds a minute with pinpoint accuracy. With the rounds filling the space around the UNSC vessels with thousands of tiny explosions, they either scored direct hits, shattering the missiles, or the exploding flak casing of the shells took them out.

As fast as it began, it was over, the point defenses stopped firing and the Republic missiles were gone, not a single one made it to their targets.

"No losses sir." Captain Haithum informed Gregory as another of his cruisers took a beating from a broadside of laser fire.

"Fire portside Archers, pods 1 through 80! Have the fleet follow suit. Line up our ships for another MAC barrage," he snarled. With a fiery passion for destruction, a smirk creeped up the side of his lips. “Captain Haithum.”

“Yes sir?”

“Prep some Shivas. Let’s give them a warm welcome.” It had been a long time since he’d been allowed to bring those out.

Haithum nodded and smiled a little as well. “Aye sir!”

Intrepid

"Not one made it through?" Tarkin asked as the ship vibrated again from another volley of its cannons, its shock absorbers having been damaged in the fighting.

"No sir, not one. The point defenses on those ships are something out of a fighter jockey's nightmare. They’re quick. Very rapid fire cannons that have unheard of accuracy. They took down our missiles in under a second," an officer informed him.

Tarkin growled; he had expended most of his fleet’s missiles in an attempt to overwhelm the UNSC defenses to no avail. Now they would have to reload the torpedo tubes and try again. "Bring us about and..."

"Sir! A MASSIVE amount of missiles are launching from the enemy flagship!"

Tarkin stared in awe at the flashes of light before him.

"Point defenses up now!" he barked, turning around fast enough to make a fighter maneuvering in space look trivial.

He stared intently at the incoming onslaught, as if it would make a difference.

“Sir! Radiation levels spiking!”

Tarkin puckered up in anticipation for another particle beam, but was almost relieved to hear what came next, “It appears they’ve launched… nuclear missiles!?”

Tarkin sneered. Nukes hadn’t been used in the galaxy since the Mandalorian Wars, although this wasn’t Tarkin’s galaxy. While primitive, Tarkin recognized the threat they could pose. At least they wouldn’t be as nearly devastating as those energy weapons.

“Truly barbaric…” he muttered. “Put all power into the shields and defensive weapons, we mustn’t let them hit us!”

The sides of the UNSC battleship seemed to disappear in a sweeping line of flame and smoke before one thousand missiles began screaming at his fleet.

"Holy makers..." Tarkin said, almost as if he was admiring the UNSC’s handiwork as the missiles closed in at frightening speeds.

The 52 point defense weapons on the Venators opened up, complemented by the smaller flak guns and lighter laser cannons; they gave everything they had to try to stop the onslaught.

The Venator’s defensive measures were slow and sluggish compared to the Terran designs. The fire control systems were part organic control aided by various instruments, and part computer controlled, but still a hundred thousand times slower than the dumb AI that controlled the UNSC weapons.

The Imperator’s point defense was even more lacking, only 40 point defense guns on its slightly larger frame.

The dark expanses of space suddenly lit up like a Life Day celebration. Thousands of laser bolts and fiery plumes filled the sky, taking the place of fireworks and light displays.

Missiles fell by the dozens, but the sheer speed and number of them, coupled with the severe lack of Republic countermeasures, meant most of them would hit. A grim reality Tarkin would have to deal with.

700 of them had been shot down, including some of the nukes, but there were still thousands that were sure to hit.

Three of the missiles slammed into the recharging shields of the Intrepid, which held, but it was still enough to shake the entire ship, a reminder for the crew to stay on their toes.

Then, one of the nuclear missiles hit his ship.

The entire ship shuddered from the might of the blow, crew members were shaken and thrown about from their stations, the shields having been completely sucked dry and the outer armor plating melted away to reveal the inner layers of durasteel.

Tarkin was lucky; had there been just a little more damage, his ship would’ve been crippled, or worse, destroyed.

Several of the Acclamators took damage, and a Victory had 200 meters of its bow blown open by three direct hits. A nuke hit an already damaged Venator, piercing through the reactor, causing the whole ship to erupt in a gargantuan fireball, vaporizing the ship and its surrounding escort craft.

A different Venator was hit diagonally, cutting straight through from where the bridge met the hull into the engines, killing it dead in the water.

Tarkin looked frantically at the state of his once proud fleet, now being battered around by primitives.

Those nukes were something never seen before; not even the Mandalorians had fielded something that powerful in their arsenal all those eons ago.

"More missiles are incoming! The entire fleet is firing! Radioactive signatures detected!" an ensign desperately called out.

Tarkin looked wildly at the sensor screen and felt his jaw drop as the screen stuttered trying to process the mass of munitions coming towards his fleet; it turned into two large walls of red icons on his sensor array.

Aayla could feel the panic in the crew rise dramatically, even she herself felt quite nervous. It was truly unheard of for a fleet to be armed with this many missiles, let alone fire them, not even a Victory carried that many.

“Cycle the shields! NOW!” Tarkin boomed.

Every weapon the fleet had begun to fire as fast as they could. Even passing starfighters tried to shoot them down, but they kept coming. With their speed, there simply wasn’t much time to react.

The saturation strike began to rain down on the fleet. The Archer missiles slammed into hulls and shields to detonate their explosive warheads.

It was chaos.

Ships’ shields began collapsing from hundreds of hits, only to suffer nearly a hundred more, blowing off armor plating, blasting through decks, and turning hulls into craterous debris fields.

Eleven more ships went off of the screen. The bow shields of the Intrepid took thirty direct hits and collapsed, and the next swarm of missiles screamed in after them, despite the hundreds of laser bolts aimed at them. They were persistent little munitions thanks to the engineers at Misriah Armories.

Dozens of missiles slammed into the Venator at breakneck speed. The armor did its job, for a time. But it could only do so much before it was blown away and the boundaries of its protection had been broken. The missiles tore into the ship, like a flensor on fresh kill. Deck upon deck began to become exposed to the vacuum of space as one missile glided gracefully, yet also brutally, into the prominent hangar doors, damaging them enough to seal them shut, the mechanism malfunctioning and destroying itself.

Another Terran nuke obliterated an Acclamator, the compromised reactor combined with the explosion made it look as if someone came down to create a new star.

Aayla felt tremors through the force, taking the wind out of her momentarily, having to grasp onto an adjacent beam before regaining her composure. Shaak Ti also felt it, a newfound headache dawning on her.

"Hull breaches on decks eleven and two, blocks three and ten are compromised! Sealing airlocks!" an officer listed off, panic rising in his voice.

Another officer announced, “Fires in sections seven through thirteen! Vent them out!”

Chaos broke out on the bridge; their nerves came to a boiling point. The Terran missiles had been a morale killer. Arguments and fear soon came to the surface.

“You can’t vent those sections into vacuum, fire suppression and medical teams are already on station!”

“Those fires are spreading towards the main reactor, if any-“

Another Venator cracked under the pressure of the UNSC assault while transmissions throughout the fleet made their way into the Intrepid’s bridge.

Aayla got the attention of Tarkin, “I’m going to get out there to lead the starfighters. The Force is calling me.”

Tarkin scoffed at her, but let her through nonetheless. She wasn’t of much use being cooped up in the bridge.

“I’ll stay here, Admiral,” Shaak Ti said. She was going to advise Tarkin, whether he wanted her to or not. “Admiral, it would be wise to consolidate our remaining forces.”

“Yes, yes, very well Master Jedi,” Tarkin said as another MAC round hit square on with an Acclamator, completely stopping it in its tracks relative to the rest of the fleet.

"Three missiles are incoming directly to the portside hull!" an ensign screeched out, quieting the chaos by adding to it.

Tarkin spun around to the window to see the dedicated point defense turrets for the bridge area firing as fast as they could, immediately knocking two out of the fight.

The remaining missile had been at a vector that was going to bring it straight through a gap in the shield, right before it would recharge.

Tarkin realized what they were heading for.

"It’s going to hit the flight ops bridge!" he yelled as the missile blew through the stream of defensive fire.

It was too late for the missile to be stopped.

The UNSC missile hit the other bridge directly, crashing through the transparisteel windows before detonating.

Tarkin was thrown violently to the ground, slamming his back onto a console and then slumping over.

Fire engulfed the opposite bridge, which was relatively useless at that moment considering the main hangar bay was disabled. Debris and gore drifted through space, the body of a clone marine hitting a bridge window before being pushed away.

Smoke filled the command deck. Alarms wailed and the fire suppressant systems came online.

Coughing, Tarkin got to his feet. He spat into a cloth he had kept with him.

The portside of the tower was now nothing more than a blackened, twisted ruin, the top of the flight ops bridge had completely sheared off. Debris began to drift out of the ruin. Burnt and mangled bodies floated out, many missing limbs and large swathes of their torsos. It was a visceral scene; one of the crewmembers aboard the Intrepid would go on to receive a holophoto award for his picture of the devastation.

What most people fail to grasp, is that being hit doesn’t necessarily matter in ship to ship combat, but rather, where. The Intrepid could afford to be hit in the hangar for example, but a blow to the tibanna magazines or the reactor near the core of the ship would spell disaster for Tarkin. The hit on the tower was not a crippling blow, but would severely hamper operation of the ship’s fighter complement.

"Redirect the flight ops for our fighters to the Executrix. What is the status of the fleet?" Tarkin sternly asked.

"We lost thirty four ships in total, and nearly every ship received damage." The officer choked on the noxious fumes being sucked out by the ventilation system; thank the Force that was still working.

“And what of the enemy?” Tarkin asked, undeterred by the heavy losses the enemy had inflicted.

"The enemy fleet has lost six ships and is still in engagement distance, but they’ll be out of range in sixty seconds."

"Have all ships target at their own discretion, but keep course for the space station and their colony. Thirty ships shall break off and pursue the enemy fleet. We will need to harass the enemy, so that they will stay off our backs during the landing," Tarkin ordered as the ship shuddered again, this time from one of the smaller railguns mounted on the Terran ships.

UNSC Warhound

"That’s thirty four more confirmed kills. Those missiles and nukes really did wonders on them. That bought us time. Continue the full broadside with our secondary pulse lasers, railguns, and coilguns until we leave their effective range. We need to get them to break their fleet into two. Both of our fleet elements will enter a slingshot orbit of the gas giant T7, but one will enter at negative thirty degrees and the other at positive thirty degrees relative to the planet and our current plane. With any hope, we’ll catch them in a pincer," Admiral White broadcasted, informing the remaining UNSC ships.

He wanted to exploit the flaws in Republic ship design as much as possible. By staying under the Republic ships, he could avoid the punishment of their main guns.

The void was illuminated by combat. Some of the fighters which had been called out of reserve darted from one place to another. Republic craft had no chance of getting close to the UNSC fleet, being caught between ace pilots and point defenses, still effective even when having been restricted to kinetic slugs to avoid friendly fire.

The Republic point defenses were no match for the quick and nimble UNSC craft. A Longsword bombing run dealt a final crippling blow to a Venator, brilliantly exploding into a million pieces of debris. Five other ships had fallen to similar attacks.

"Sir! The Republic fleet is turning about on our second element!" Captain Haithum announced.

The overcharged strikes from the heavy turbolasers of the enemy fleet pounded the remaining fifty-two ships with burning intensity, including the Warhound herself as she received the attention of no less than two of the Imperators, a Venator, and the enemy flagship itself, which was out for Terran blood.

The ship rocked and groaned as the shields struggled to hold back and absorb the power of hundreds of megatons of firepower thrashing into it. It was a testament to decades of experience in ship design and space combat that the Warhound was still functional.

The energy projectors and other secondary batteries hastily returned fire, bringing the shields on one of the remaining six Imperators down. Two plasma beams cut clean through the hull, like a hot pair of scissors cutting through a stick of butter.

The carcass of the ship drifted off, before a tibanna gas store catastrophically exploded.

The shields of the mighty battleship could not hold back all of the turbolaser fire, and several salvos made it through, but thanks to the immensely thick armor the damage was minimal, until one lucky turbo laser blast from the Imperator Executrix found the one of the dual particle cannon turrets and promptly turned it into slag. A large secondary explosion blew out an adjacent observation deck, killing dozens of UNSC personnel.

White cursed as he regained his footing. Off in the distance, a Gibraltar’s ammunition rack cooked off under fire which, despite the hundreds of countermeasures and precautions, caused a chain reaction throughout the whole ship, destroying it entirely.

Nevertheless, his flagship was throwing everything it had at the enemy, scoring a clean hit on the engine block of one of the Venators with a Breakwater salvo coupled with an energy projector blow, blowing half of the sublight thrusters off. The Venator slewed off of its course, until it eventually was able to recover. The Warhound finished it off with a combined Spitfire and Sentry coilgun barrage, chipping away at the armor plating of the Venator until it was dead in the water.

The rest of his fleet was not as fortunate as his own ship.

He watched as one of the massive Concordia carriers from the second group was bisected, followed by a titanic explosion. The culprits of this act being the combined fire of four Imperators and three Victorys.

"We are leaving their effective range now. We lost twelve ships; we’re down to half strength, sir," MacArthur grimly stated.

"More than I expected.” Admiral Gregory White had learned not to let losses affect him, to always continue the fight. “Keep on this course at full burn. Call up the fighters and bombers to regroup. I want seventy-five percent of our fighters to punch a hole through the enemy fighter screen so our bombers have a straight shot at their ships, while the rest will maintain a defensive screen."

The Republic fighters had been trounced by their UNSC counterparts in every engagement and were simply no match for the UNSC point defenses; their shields did little to stop the weapons.

The Admiral looked on the display to see his fleet’s fighters and bombers, a little battered from the fighting, turn to face a tidal wave of enemy fighters.

The main Republic force was heading straight for SDB5, which began to pound away with its own defenses, and to his ire, five assault ships were setting course to enter Cienna’s orbit and land troops.

There were now only 146 enemy warships left; he still was outnumbered over three-to-one and with the Punic supercarrier battlegroup still half a day out at best, he had to hold fast, though he was impressed, surprised even, with how his forces had performed.

"Enemy fighters are nearing long range missile range of our fighters," the Warhound’s wing commander reported. He was leading the fighters’ charge. "We will hopefully take them by surprise with our missiles and thin their numbers out before we have to dogfight them. Zero-G maneuvers will give us a major advantage. We have superior speed, weapons, and maneuverability but they have pure numbers. We will do our best, sir."

Of course Admiral White already knew that from the intelligence briefing, but the Admiral saluted the pilot nonetheless, "Good luck son."

MacArthur called to Admiral White, "Sir, the enemy is launching boarding craft and escort fighters towards the station. Their defenses are holding for now, but they will eventually get through. Their Marine combat teams are all green to go. They have multiple defensive positions set up in chokepoints throughout the station."

White shook his head in approval as the intercom buzzed again, and the image of the Master Chief came on screen, the Spartan-II supersoldier preparing his booster frame.

"Sir, when do you want me to launch?" he asked plainly.

"I need you to launch once our fighters clear you a path to slip through; though I am sure you could do it on your own, I'd rather be sure to not have humanity’s savior to be taken out by a plasma burst. Our slingshot orbit will greatly accelerate you upon exit," he replied.

"Yes sir. I’m ready, just give me the order." Sierra-117 responded.

“Understood, I’ll notify you when to launch. Admiral White, out.” The Admiral saluted the Master Chief before closing communications.

Admiral White would have to play the final moments of the battle perfectly if he were to win this. He could not afford to make a single mistake and needed all the luck in the world. He took this small respite to light up a Sweet William cigar. Although it was against UNSC regulations, there were fortunately no stuck-up officials to tell him what to do in the middle of combat.

"Sir! The enemy fleet fell for it! They are sending 30 ships to pursue us!" the sensor officer called out giddily.

White gave a cunning grin.

"We’ll catch them in a pincer, above and below. They’ll be easy picking for our MACs and nukes. Have our point defenses cycle their ammo blocks and reload their magazines. Keep the other coilgun batteries warmed up and I want our Rapier and Howler missile pods to stay hot, start rearming the Archers too. It’s a long haul after we get out of our slingshot, gentlemen."

Eta-2 Starfighter

"General, we have a sensor lock on the enemy fighters as well as visuals from our starfighters," clone flight leader Red 1 called from the cockpit of his ARC-170.

Aayla raced towards the oncoming UNSC fighters, who were charging headlong at them faster than her own interceptor, a humbling experience.

The Force was tingling at Aayla’s spine, telling her of an upcoming attack, but they were not in range yet, and after the losses of the fleet, her sense was flooded not only by a growing cloud of the dark side, but from the suffering souls of the dead and dying.

Snapping her concentration back on the mission at hand, she answered Red 1, "Sync our displays."

“Copy that, General.”

Her HUD’s screen enlarged to show a menacing, almost pitch black fighter. It had a long and sharp beak, the fighter was about thirty meters long in total. Two massive engines housed in nacelles took up half of the length of the fighter nested inside the thick angular wings, two small canards at the leading edge of the nacelles, and with two tail fins that were angled toward each other.

The most prominent features were the lack of a noticeable cockpit, the size of the fighters, and, aside from their tremendous speed, the visible weapon hardpoints loaded with whatever the Terran version of a concussion missile was.

"Looks like the intel was right this time boys, looks like they’re using a holosystem to look outside alright," Red 1's current wingmate, Red 5 observed. Red Squadron hadn’t taken part in the first fighter skirmishes and were thus fresh for the battle.

"About bloody time they got something right," Red 1 added with a hint of distaste.

“Right or not, those fighters really chewed our brothers up like bantha fodder. Have you seen what happened to Slerch?” Red 4 said.

“Cut the chatter, no one needs your talk. Lock S-Foils into attack position people. This is it,” Milshin, callsign Red 2, commanded.

"Those things are bigger than a larty. At least we have a nice, fat target," Red 6 added.

Aayla looked into the Force for a second, searching for answers and a path to victory, but instead of answers, a horrifying blackening cloud appeared in her mind, growing like a tumor.

Was it the dark side? she thought in horror, her whole body sinking.

Then a wicked, snarling voice filled her mind.

‘The Republic as you know it will crumble under the weight of its sins. The trees of time and eternal fate are parched, and war is their aliment. A great darkness from the makers shall arise. The universe will be devoured under a flood of evil and darkness. The Reclaimers will fight, and change the future. The mantle will be earned. Hearken upon these words, as you are warned.’

She gasped as sweat poured from her blue skin; her heartbeat pulsated through her fingertips. No amount of calming meditation could have saved her from that… message. Or was it just a trick? A trick her mind played on her?

It was unlike any trance she had ever experienced; she had no idea what to make of it.

Looking into the Force, to her horror, she found only a blank darkness.

The dark side had completely consumed everything.

"Incoming missiles! Kriff, they are fast! Evasive maneuvers!" Red 2 screamed into the audicaster. A thousand missiles screamed from the Terran fighters into the Republic clusters.

Aayla threw her ship into a quick roll, adding to her nausea.

Red 5's ARC-170 wasn’t as fortunate or agile as Aayla’s Eta-2. Its shields and armor did nothing to keep it from turning into a fiery piece of slag. Just another casualty of this war. Another face to be forgotten by the Republic. Yet, not forgotten by the Jedi. That was their burden, to an extent. Aayla could feel every single one of the dead. Every face, every scream was burned into her consciousness, yet she still fought on.

Aayla muttered to herself, dodging another missile with a lightning quick maneuver, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”