Battle of Kashyyyk

With its cloaking device enabled, the Atonement hovered above the placid world of Kashyyyk, a ghost waiting to unleash its terrible vengeance on the Wookiee homeworld. All aboard the Star Dreadnought were silent, going about their duties as they'd been commanded and obeying every order given them. There was a hum of excitement that rippled through the regulated air of the Atonement, a realisation that all aboard knew as fact.

This was their first step and claiming the Galaxy as a whole.

Grand Admiral Xira Stone stood at the helm on the bridge of her ship, staring out the massive viewport at the unsuspecting planet below. The planet was a myriad of greens and browns, paying homage to the many trees that spread far across the planet's surface. The Wookiees on the planet were magnificent creatures to be certain: warriors and technicians alike despite the lack of technology on the planet. Xira disliked the animals--for that was what they appeared to be in her mind: simply animals--and felt they would do far better as someone's throw rug or slave than a free sentient. Their usefulness in forced labor was something that was renown throughout the Galaxy.

They would make very lovely commodities to slavers and many others from the Core all the way to the Outer Rim once their planet was conquered.

And thus, she was brought to her main point, the reason behind the Atonement's current presence in orbit around Kashyyyk. The Confederation of Dolomar had agreed that Kashyyyk posed a threat rebellion-wise, as well as offered much in the way of trade. It also would further root them in the Mid Rim, stanching any further Alliance attempt to sway the people to their misguided cause.

Xira despised the Alliance with every fiber of her proverbial being. They were hypocrites, the lot of them. They claimed to be pacifists but engaged the Confederation in pointless battles many times; thus causing a loss of innocent lives on both sides. They claimed to be trying to end the "tyranny" of the Confederation but what has the Confederation done to be considered tyrannous? They had brought about a new Galactic Order, establishing peace from the Core and outwards. If it hadn't been for them, a great civil war would still be spread across the stars, smearing them in the blood of innocent lives taken before their time.

The Confederation had done nothing but help the Galaxy--through whatever means necessary--and these terrorists labeled them "dictators". It was a load of bantha poodoo, to be sure.

And now it was time once again to prove their established dominion in the Galaxy. The death that would occur as a result of this battle would be regrettable, but a necessary evil.

"Are the Wookies alerted to our presence, Lieutenant?" Xira asked, not tearing her gaze away from the viewport.

"No, ma'am."

"Good." Her eyes narrowed though her face remained largely impassive. "How far out is the rest of the fleet?"

"They should arrive within the hour, Grand Admiral."

"Very good."

Beside her, she sensed agitation ripple through Nrghrr. The Togorian, no doubt, was itching for battle...just as she was, to some level.

"Nrghrr," she began.

He stepped forward, closer to her. "Yes, Mistress?"

"I want you to assemble a covert team of operatives and go ahead of the main strike force," she explained in a curt tone. "You will do what you can to sabotage any efforts on the Wookiee's part to fight us. Use whatever weapons and means that you need. You have my full permission to do whatever you see fit once you are planet-side."

Nrghrr's lips curled back, teeth bared in a frightening smile. "As you command, Mistress."

Xira turned her gaze away from the viewport, focused on her bodyguard. "I have reason to suspect that the Alliance will interfere in these aggressive renegotiations...from a reliable source. If that is the case, I may be preoccupied with space battle and unable to give you more aid on the ground."

"I understand."

"If we can force the Wookies to surrender before Alliance even arrives, then they will have no reason to fight." She pursed her lips in thought, her eyes possessing a steely cold to them. "The less bloodshed, the better. I want this to be short and sweet, do I make myself clear?"

"Of course, Mistress."

Xira nodded, waving him off to get ready.

All was silent for a long moment before heavy steps sounded behind her. She immediately knew whom the steps belonged to.

"The Alliance will be here."

The Grand Admiral held her stoic stance. "I am well aware of that fact, Commander."

"And you're ready to receive them, I take it?"

"Do not worry, all will go according to plan," Xira said with a sneer.

"Don't forget to hold up your end of the bargain," the voiced barked.

She held up a placating hand. "I will not. If your information is correct, then it is in both our best interests to capture him. Alive, if possible."

"I want him alive," the voice countered.

Xira nodded. "Very well. My men are under strict orders to capture, not kill him. But accidents happen."

The man flexed his fists, taking a dangerous step towards the Grand Admiral. "No accidents can happen this time."

Xira looked bored with the man's show of anger and threat. "It is out of my hands. There are always casualties of war, Commander, surely you know this better than anyone else?"

It was a low jab at him and the man almost winced. Instead, he turned on his heels and strode away, preparing himself for the coming battle. Xira smiled to herself, knowing she had won their battle of words. Now, all that was left was winning the Battle of Kashyyyk.

In the layman's book of tactics, walking into an obvious trap seems like an incredibly stupid thing to do. Why would you want to deliberately set yourself up to fail, after all? More knowledgeable scholars on the subject of game theory, however, recognize the fact that at times, a trap must be sprung in order for the 'victim' to gain a greater understanding of their opponents positioning and strength. In dejarik, after all, one must often sacrifice pawns in order to determine another's plan of battle. The mark of a true tactical genius was perhaps the ability to turn a trap inside out, to take the supposed inherent advantage of the trapper and turn it against them, transfiguring it into a weakness.

This was the intention of the commander of the Alliance fleet, as its component ships tore across the flickering blue light of hyperspace towards Kashyyyk. Aella Taridon sat in a leaning forward position in her command chair on the bridge of the Justicar, as though she subconsciously thought her slight redistribution of weight towards the prow of the vessel could potentially make it go that much faster. Her left arm was held out before her, her head bent over the small screen of her wrist com as she conferred with the various ship commanders in a subdued voice.

"I understand your concerns, Commodore, and they are certainly justifiable. Yes, I do find it rather suspicious that we were alerted to Confederate fleet movements in such a timely manner. The Confederation is many things, but loose-lipped is not one of them. However, even if they have initiated this attack purely as a lure to draw us out, we must respond. Humanitarian concerns aside--namely, preventing the native species from being sold wholesale into slavery to finance the Confederate war effort--Kashyyyk is in a prime tactical position on the Mid Rim, a position we must deny them if we have any hope of halting their advance throughout that region. I am aware of the risks involved, and for the moment I find them to be acceptable. Believe me, I have no intention of sacrificing even one member of the Alliance on the altar of Confederate arrogance. Since we are aware of the potential trap, we should be able to subvert it to our cause."

Aella paused for a moment, as much for dramatic effect as anything else. When she regained her voice, the conversational demeanor she had previously assumed dropped away entirely, leaving only the hard unyielding core of her personality behind. "My orders on this matter are final. I will brook no further objections, is that clear?" There was a longer pause then, as the Grand Admiral fell silent to allow her subordinate to respond. When the Mon Calamari spoke up again, his voice was decidedly less challenging than it had been when he'd made his original protest against Aella's plan. "Yes, Grand Admiral. You have my full support, of course."

The faintest of smiles played on Aella's lips, more for the benefit of all those receiving her visual signal than any actual emotion on her part. With the approaching battle, her entire psyche had gone into lockdown mode, an arrangement where feelings could find no purchase. "I am glad to hear that, Commodore. We must all remain vigilant to potential errors on our part, and I do not fault you for speaking up as you did. Your only concern was for the safety and success of the Alliance, as it should be. It is a commendable trait."

Her display of praise towards the questioning officer had its intended effect, the Mon Calamari gentleman--as well as the other officers listening in on the exchange--finding his confidence in his steadfast commander stronger than ever. Respect and deference both resonated richly in the Mon Cal's tone as he replied. "Thank you, sir. My troops and I are ready for whatever comes, Grand Admiral. Just give us the word, and we'll make it happen."

"As I know you shall, Commodore. Are there any further questions?" Aella inquired on the conference frequency. As she had already anticipated, no one else voiced an inquiry. Her plans had already been laid out before them, with every detail looked after and every contingency anticipated. Everyone knew what they had to do, and Aella's display of command proficiency had seen to it that all her subordinates believed wholeheartedly that their Grand Admiral would do what she had to do for their best interests. "Excellent. Begin the final preparations for battle. We are ten minutes away from realspace; use your time well. May the Force be with us all. Taridon out."

With that traditional sendoff, Aella cut her transmission. Internally, the forty-year veteran of multiple wars had no real faith in any sort of supernatural 'Force' watching over the machinations of mortal beings. In her experience, your fate was wholly made by your own actions, not determined by anyone--or anything--else in the universe. However, she knew many in the Alliance found the traditional phrase comforting to them, despite the near-absence of Jedi from the galactic stage in recent decades. Part of being a good commander sometimes was acting for the benefit of those under your command, even if your own true sentiments lay elsewhere.

Her attention focused once again on the bridge of her flagship, Grand Admiral Taridon saw to her own last minute preparations. It always helped to have a few tactical tricks up your sleeve, after all, to complement over forty years of practical experience. There was always something that could use her touch, it seemed; Aella was very much a 'hands-on' sort of leader. It showed in the way she always took the time to address every specialist on her team personally, receiving reports and engaging them in conversation. She always made it a point to discover the greatest strengths of all those under her command, and made sure to utilize them in her plans.

Her subordinates saw this as their commander paying them personal attention and rewarding them for their efforts. Aella saw it as a way to spot potential weak links in her machinations before they could have the chance to strain and fail. She left absolutely nothing to chance, paying as much heed to the smallest detail as she did to the grand scheme of things. War and its logistics was her life, her essence, her reason for being; nothing else in her world mattered when compared to her duty.

Time moved forward in its ever constant march, and soon the word was given for the fleet to exit hyperspace. By this point, Aella had moved to stand behind the helm officer, both as a dramatic gesture to be at the front of the bridge during their drop into realspace, as well as to check the helmsman's efficiency in following her timetable and exiting hyperspace at the exact planned nanosecond. The Corulagan was a real stickler for timing; plans worked best when everyone did what they needed to do at the right time to do it.

Once the wavering cerulean tunnel had dissipated from around them, Aella idly listened to the reports of the rest of the fleet making the successful drop while her narrowed green eyes scanned over the view through the front viewports. Upon first examination, the vista set before her appeared to be an untroubled one. There were no Confederate ships in sight, in fact, nor were there any blasted craters or raging fires on the planet's surface that would attest to an orbital assault. Some people who had less training and experience in the arts of war would probably feel a sense of relief in having seemingly arrived at the target site before the enemy had. Aella felt no such thing; instead, she was immediately suspicious of the situation.

"They're out there," she mused more to herself than anyone else. "I know them. They have to be." Clearing her throat softly, she turned to face the rest of the spotlessly clean bridge and the skilled individuals eagerly anticipating her orders. For a split second, Aella allowed herself the luxury of simple pride in her followers. They knew their jobs well, and they performed them with swift elegance. She expected no less from her crew. "Inform the fleet to assume attack status, orbital defense mode, strike formation Besh. Deploy all fighter squadrons, and send out our scouts to search the system for any surprises. Charge all weapons, firing crews stand ready. All shields to full, random frequency rotation. Damage control teams, report to your stations on the double."

As she continued to give orders in a ringing, regal tone of authority, Aella strode back towards her command chair. "All sensors active scan; we have to find our targets before we can dispose of them. They may be hiding behind one of the moons or other planets in this system, or they could be under some sort of cloak. Leave no stone or sensor ghost unturned."

The call to arms had been sudden and like most Alliance soldiers, Wes Loran had been quick to answer it. He had discussed the obvious trap with the rest of the High Command, and they’d all agreed that the wisest move would be to go to Kashyyyk’s defence, despite the nature of the Confederation plan. A trap they knew about could be avoided with a few wisely planned moves; Wes had full faith in Grand Admiral Taridon. If she couldn’t avoid the dragon’s maw, no one could.

On the other side of the magcon field all Wes saw was the customary visage of hyperspace. A comforting view was all he could describe it as; he’d always enjoyed space travel, despite the lack of warmth. However, at the time, comforting thoughts were beyond his ability. He knew what awaited them, the Confederation fleet, most likely only a portion of it, as they had wide ranges of space to cover, but still, Wes believed even a small part of the Confederation fleet was bigger than the rag-tag group the Alliance had.

He was gazing at the troops collected around the hangar of the Nebulon-B Frigate Sidestep, all were getting ready to board the Grek-class troop shuttles that called this hangar their home. Wes noted as the ship dropped out of hyperspace, most likely along with the rest of the fleet they’d mustered to travel to Kashyyyk. Wes, feeling odd in his combat armour, turned towards the groups of soldiers. As acting Grand Marshal it was his job to keep these guys organized and ready for the fight.

“Time to board up!” He shouted out, and response was almost immediate. The steady march of heavy boots drowned out everything else as the soldiers filled into the shuttles. Wes, feeling big and heavy in the standard combat suit of the Alliance soldiers, followed them calmly, fitting the helmet on his head securely. The boxed in feeling was uncomfortable and unusual, as Wes had actually never worn much combat armour in his fights, but he was glad the helmet wasn’t covering his face or obscuring some of his vision. As a pilot he’d simply worn a flightsuit, and as a smuggler and Intel operative, he’d worn civvie clothes. There was a first for everything though, he’d get used to it eventually.

Wes held a steady grip on the E-11 blaster rifle he had been equipped with as he followed the last of the soldiers up into the nearest troop shuttle. Those he passed on his way to the cockpit saluted him, as his rank markings were clearly shown on his armour.

Reaching the cockpit, he saw the pilot getting ready, but they hadn’t been cleared for takeoff yet.

“Any news?” He questioned, rubbing a hand on his chin as he glanced down at the controls, wishing he was the one flying.

The pilot shook her head. “Negative, sir, no sign of the Confederation either.”

Wes gave a thoughtful nod, turning his gaze to stare out the viewport. The Confederation was there, that was certain, but staying hidden, most likely wanting to jump them. The fact that they knew about it was only a small comfort.

"Approaching Kashyyyk sir." A single bridge officer told Varian as he nodded in reply.

"Good, drop the fleet out of Hyperspace when I give the order. Tell them to scramble fighters and raise shields the moment they drop out of hyperspace. Tell the Acclamators to follow us. The Tartans are instructed to form a wall of fire which will destroy all enemy fighters, tell them to destroy the engines of a shuttle, unless it has taken considerable damage. In which case, they are to leave the shuttles to be boarded by a shuttle that will be sent by us." Varian spoke these words with a calm tone of voice as the bridge staff commed the other ships with them.

"Oh and.. The Pellaeon class... Will be placed behind the Tartan cruisers, it may also send shuttles to collect the damaged shuttles. Remember we need to take prisoners."

The bridge staff, quickly began to ready themselves to drop out of hyperspace with the rest of the fleet.

"Take us out of hyperspace... Now!" Varian yelled as his Hammerhead instantly dropped into normal space, speeding towards Kashyyyk, as no less than twenty Tartan-Patrol cruisers dropped out of hyperspace to move towards an open clearing of space. Next the five Acclamators dropped out of hyperspace, following Varians Hammerhead towards Kashyyyk.

Finally a single Pellaeon class star Destroyer dropped out of hyperspace, scrambling all of its fighters heading to support the Tartan Patrol cruisers.

"Open hitting orbit a single Acclamator will land troops on the surface, when it re-enters orbit. Then a second Acclamator will land troops. Then after that one returns to orbit. A third will go down, then the final two will remain in orbit in case the troops on the ground require reinforcements. However, I shall aid with the planning of the ground battle from space. Tell the commanders of the ground forces to only take orders from me, not their commanders in orbit." Varian told his bridge staff, whom transfered the order to the Acclamators.

Varian turned to face the planet, as the first Acclamator desended onto the planet. Mumbling "Now... We wait for the Alliance to take the bait..."

"Ma'am, we've just received visual of Alliance vessels entering the system," said one of the Lieutenants on the bridge as he surveyed the tactical data flowing down the screen. "Identifying ships now...Scans reveal them to be a Nebulon-B Frigate and Viscount-class Star Defender, Grand Admiral."

From their position, Xira had a clear view of the Alliance ships from the viewport of the Atonement. Everything was still quiet and it was possible that they hadn't even detected the Confederation presence yet, courtesy of the new cloaking device that she'd had installed recently. The Alliance had come suspecting a trap...And they would, indeed, be in for quite a surprise.

With her hands clasped behind her back, Grand Admiral Stone presented a rather intimidating, authoritative figure at the helm of her Star Dreadnought. Normally, this was increased by the presence of her Togorian bodyguard, Nrghrr, but he was already planet-side with some troops, preparing for the invasion. While not technically in the employ of the Confederation military, Nrghrr often acted as her right hand doing what had to be done without question or hesitation. Xira often wished more of her officers were like the Togorian.

"Organize the troops into boarding parties," she ordered, finally getting down to business. "I want teams of ten ready for my go-ahead at any time."

"Yes, Grand Admiral."

"Also, have the pilots assemble their squadrons. Inform them that they are to focus their attention on taking out the shields of the Nebulon-B Frigate and, furthermore, destroying it. Focus on the midsection connecting spar; it's the most vulnerable spot. Only once that is taken care of are they to engage in dogfighting."

"It will be done, Grand Admiral."

Xira strode over to one of the readout screens, perused the data on them. Everything was going smooth so far, and they were, as of yet, undetected by the Alliance. That gave them the advantage of the element of surprise. The fools had come willingly into a trap, just as Xira's source had known they would. The Commander was proving to be a very valuable asset thus far. And the Alliance was predictable as ever.

"Bring the Atonement around the Star Defender, flanking position," Xira commanded, returning to her position at the head of the bridge. "Get her as close as you can without alerting them to our presence. Push all shielding to the port side and begin turning the turbolasers, charge the ion cannons. I want all gunners to their positions immediately."

The Lieutenant relayed the Grand Admiral's over the ships intercom system, and the Atonement's officers immediately went to work. The Star Dreadnought pulled closer to the Star Defender, closing in on the space between. Below, the planet of Kashyyyk remained static, no doubt now aware of the Alliance presence and already foreseeing the inevitable battle that was coming. Xira knew that Nrghrr and his troops would be as covert as they could until further reinforcements arrived and the real invasion began.

It was all part of a well-conceived strategy on the Confederation of Dolomar's part. Xira knew what would have to be accomplished in this battle and she was prepared to see it through to the end no matter the outcome. The Confederation had let the Alliance pick and prod at them for far too long...It was time to put them back in their place. And Xira would take great pleasure in doing so.

Soon, the Atonement was pulling up beside the Viscount-class vessel, its cloaking shields powered just as high as its defensive shields were. All of its armaments were ready and aimed to the port side just as had been requested. Xira's men and women were anything but incompetent; and she looked forward to seeing them in action on this day. A day that would mark the beginning of the end for the Alliance.

"Anything you'd like to say before be begin, Commander?" Xira asked, sensing the man's dark presence beside her.

"I want to go planet-side," said the man.

A slender eyebrow rose. "Oh?"

The Commander didn't offer an explanation, simply waited for an answer.

"Very well," Xira conceded. "Permission granted, Commander. Once we've made our presence known and the rest of the fleet has arrived, you're free to head planet-side."

With a curt nod, the Commander strode from the room.

"Grand Admiral, Admiral Tipton and the rest of the fleet just exited hyperspace," her first Lieutenant announced. "They've entered the system."

Right on time, thought Xira with grim satisfaction. Let the games begin.

With five Acclamators, twenty Tartans, and a Pallaeon-class Star Destroyer, the Confederation was showing only a minor part of their entire fleet. It would, no doubt, draw the Alliance's attention as well as have them forward their shields to the front, leaving their sides open and vulnerable.

"On my mark, open fire on the Star Defender," Xira ordered, a sharp edge to her tone. Several agonizingly long seconds passed before Xira finally gave the order. "Fire!"

The ship opened up on the unsuspecting Viscount-class while also finally revealing itself, laying into it with as much force as the massive Star Dreadnought could muster. The heavy ion cannons served to attack the shields, while the turbolasers and laser cannons only furthered the damage done.

((How much damage did the Atonement do to the Justicar?))

(( The shields aren't particularly weakened yet, but the combined effort of several weapons manages to penetrate it anyway. The Justicar suffers minor hull damage to non-important areas, and the shields are lowered to 80% ))

The Grand Admiral has called ten minutes to realspace reversion.

Ryen Talia, squadron leader of Panther Squadron, sat in the cockpit of her T-65 X-Wing snubfighter staring at the display before her. The note had come from the little R2 unit seated snugly behind her in the droid slot of the craft. Squealer, as he had been aptly named, was painted white red and gold for no particular reason other than Tallie liked those colours. Squealer was more a fan of blues and greens, but Tallie was his owner, after all.

"Hey, Lead? I know we're flying into a trap, but you think we can turn it in our favor?"

That voice could only belong to the squadron's youngest pilot, a young Bothan male by the name of Gurst. He hadn't been with the squadron long but definitely deserved to be with the Panthers. They weren't the 'elite' squadron or anything, but they were all compitent pilots who had several hundred hours of sim training. Some, like Tallie, had seen actual combat as well, though Gurst had not. Ryen secretly worried about the young Bothan being shot down over the skies of Kashyyyk. No doubt her squadron would be one of many sent to harass Confederate shuttle parties.

"Not a clue, Sandy. All depends on how the Grand Admiral coordinates the battle. Knowing her, though, we'll all be fine."

Gurst, who's callsign was 'Sandy' due to the colour of his fur, seemed to relax a bit. Ryen didn't want her pilots worked up before the battle; especially the younger ones who had yet to see actual combat. Though even the squadron leader couldn't help but check and re-check systems that she knew Squealer had already primed and done checks on. It was a way of keeping her mind off the battle that was to come.

"Hey, Strill. Wanna make a wager on how many kills I make?"

"I'll wager you get shot down before you get the chance, Angel."

Rolling her eyes at the exchange between two more of her pilots, Ryen thumbed her comm to life.

"I'll bet you'd both best stow it or I'll shoot you down personally."

An embarassed silence fell over the comm line, followed by a pair of appoligies. Tallie didn't mind chatter before a battle, but at the moment she didn't want any distractions. They were flying right into a trap and the Grand Admiral had to know that, though she continued on anyhow. Why in the Nine Hells would she knowingly put the Alliance fleet through this? Old Lady Durasteel had best have a reason for doing this other than committing the fleet for a suicide run.

Reversion to realspace in 3...2...1... Reversion.

Ryen looked at the small display before her and watched as Squealer counted down the seconds until theyr reverted back into realspace. There was only the slightest of lurches when they reverted and Ryen was quick to prime her weapons and engines. Shields were at the ready by had yet to be activated since she was still in the hangar.

"All fighters... Launch."

Ryen didn't really have time to react on such short notice, but she flipped on her repulsors and hovered a foot off the hangar deck. Retracting her landing struts she thumbed her comm to life once more.

"Once out of the hangar, form wing pairs. Sandy, you're with me. Strill and Angel are the second pair and so on. Understood?" she asked. Her answer was eleven single clicks signaling 'affirmative' from each pilot. "Good. Sandy, stay on my tail and watch my six. Engage single targets if at all possible and stick with Eyeballs and Dupes. Leave the Squints for the faster fighters if at all possible."

Eleven more clicks sounded over the squadron's comm line and Ryen feathered the throttle forward. Once free of the magnetic shielding Tallie punched her throttle forward, pressed down on the right rudder pedal and pulled back and left on her control stick, putting the fighter into a hard skid. Once her nose was in line with the nose of the Justicar and slightly above, she matched speed with the larger ship, forming the first part of a defensive screen around the much larger vessel. Moments later something brilliant lit up space and her blast tinting activated.

"Damage report, Squealer!"

Previously cloaked Confederacy vessel designated Atonement has caused minimal damage on several decks of Alliance vessel Justicar. Shields on Justicar reduced to 80%; Damage is contained.

Tallie looked up and saw a huge vessel above her, pouring starfighters out of its docking bay. It was too much to ask that the Corellian not curse at the sight, though she did manage to keep it off the comm channel. Still, she had to give orders and she thumbed her comm switch.

"Panther Squadron, this is Lead. Keep in wing pairs and engage enemy fighters, keeping in mind what I said earlier." Ryen knew that all pilots were receiving her message so she didn't bother waiting for the 'affirmative' clicks from the others before continuing. "Break on my mark... Mark!"

Pulling back and left hard on her control stick, Tallie began a climbing barrel roll. On her targeting computer, several fighter signatures began popping up in the blood red of a hostile. She was still too far out to target any of them individually and she knew so were the others.

"Squealer, distribute power evenly between all systems. Concentrate shielding forward and once we're in range give me a target."

A message started to scroll across her board, but Tallie ignored it. Squealer would just be giving his affirmative in his usual long-winded way. In the meantime Tallie primed a torpedo and linked her laser cannons to dual fire.

Fifteen seconds to engagement...

Confederate ships had been operating in this area more and more lately, and being in such close proximity to Dxun, had not gone unnoticed by the eyes of the Mandalorians. Though Dxun was but a small outpost it was fair to say that its usefulness had not gone to waste in this case. Anossk, during a hunt, had noticed the peculiar movements first, and with further watch, Kyr had come to the rather astute assumption that the Confederacy was moving for Kashyyyk. It was why a good portion of the fleet left at Mandalore was now on it's way for the homeworld of the Wookiees.

En route to the jungle planet with the Gett'se at the lead, were seven Crusader-class Corvettes, a single Keldabe-class Battleship, seven Mandalorian Dreadnaughts, four Mandalorian carriers (each holding eight CR25 Troop Carriers capable of transporting all 1280 commandos), two squadrons of each fighter they had (Dunelizards, Kimogilas, Krayts and Scyks) and twelve Basalisk war droids. While the Alliance made good on protecting the native species, Kyr would focus her attention on boarding the Confederate ships in attempts of commandeering a few. Hitting the Confederacy where it hurt most would be an immense pleasure to Cuyan Mand'alor.

"Five minutes until reversion, Mand'alor."

As opposed to most navies, where the call would have been made from a command pit by an officer yelling over the soft murmer, this was said through a private comm link between helmets. Kyr responded with a soft, slow nod and nothing more. The officer in the pit would not need to be reassured that she heard him as it was a direct line to her own personal comm unit. Until they reverted back into realspace she would not be able to address the other ships, but they knew what to do. Some had offered a bit of worry that she was not on the largest of the ships, but then that was to be expected. Kyr felt that by staying with the Gett'se she would be able to throw the enemy off as to her exact location.

Kyr set a timer on her simple HUD and watched it count down slowly until it reached one minute. The portion of the Mandalorian fleet that Kyr commanded today would be reverting just inside the system, giving them enough time to form up before advancing on the Confederates. Finally the moment came where the soft swirling blue of hyperspace was replaced by lines of white and then the unfamiliar starfield of an alien planet. Kashyyyk was roughly the size of a small moon in the viewport as the rest of the small task force exited around her.

"Attention sons and daughters of Mandalore! Now is the time when we make our first attack against the traitorous and cowardly Confederation! They have made a cheap shot against us, and now is the time they feel our wrath. You all have your orders... For the might and glory of Mandalore!"

Cheers sounded over her comm and fists raised proudly in the command pit before her. Kyr was standing with her thumbs hooked into her belt, looking out the viewport before her. It wasn't long before the commandos aboard the carriers broke into a song as ancient as the Mandalorians themselves, and before the first verse had ended all within the task force joined in, Kyr included...

"Motir ca'tra nau tracinya.
Gra'tua cuun hett su dralshy'a. Taung!

Motir ca'tra nau tracinya.
Gra'tua cuun hett su dralshy'a.
Aruetyc runi solus cet o'r prudii an.

Motir ca’tra nau tracinya.
Gra’tua cuun hett su dralshy’a.
Aruetyc runi solus cet o’r.

Motir ca’tra nau tracinya.
Gra’tua cuun hett su dralshy’a.
Aruetyc runi trattok’o.

Sa kyr'am nau tracyn kad, Vode an!

Motir ca'tra nau tracinya.
Gra'tua cuun hett su dralshy'a. Taung!

Bal kote, darasuum kote,
Jorso’ran kando a tome.
Sa kyr'am nau tracyn kad, Vode an."

Once the song had ended, the comm line went deathly quiet and none spoke a word though fire burned in their hearts. The Confederation would rue the day that they attacked the Mandalorians without provocation. They would soon learn the meaning of vengeance from these proud and heated warriors. Kyr, as opposed to speaking commands sent them through short messages via her HUD to those commanders of the other ships. Suddenly breaking the silence, the tactical officer spoke up.

"Mand'alor... We have confirmation of both Confederate and Alliance vessels. It appears as though the fighting has already started. Confederate troop transports are making their way for the surface of Kashyyyk along with an Acclamator-class assault ship."

"Let the Alliance take care of that one," Kyr said almost dismissively. The commander of this operation would not be flying in something as unsightly as an Acclamator. No, a more likely target would be something newer... bigger.

"We also have confirmation of a Star Dreadnaught that just came out of cloaking, Confederate designation Atonement. It is currently laying into that Viscount-class; Transponder reads as the Justicar."

Now that was more interesting. If memory served her correctly, that was the personal flagship of the Alliance Grand Admiral. But what would she possibly be doing heading the Alliance attack? There was a good chance that she would be blown out of the sky if the Confederates knew whom it was they were currently putting their firepower into. Kyr made her way back to her command chair and sat, punching in a secure line code.

"Ashan Hett."

The image of a Mandalorian helmet flickered to life on the arm of her command chair and a deep, gravelly voice responded in kind.

"Yes, Mand'alor?"

"You are currently in command of the Carasuum, am I correct?"

"Yes, Mand'alor. Is there something you request of me?"

"Actually, there is. Prime your mass drivers and target the Atonement. Aim for the hangar bay. We will provide fighter defense. Once your drivers are primed again, aim for the bridge. I want to go with the sure hit first..."

"Your will be done, Mand'alor."

As the image of the helmet faded, Kyr activated a battle map that hovered just before her, taking up much of her command station. Upon it were several Alliance vessels marked in green as neutral, or unknown ships. There were by far more red vessels however, those marking the ships of the Confederacy. Combined, the green of the Alliance vessels, and the blue of the Mandalorians nearly matched the numbers representing the Confederacy.

Kyr stood once more, her cape just centimeters off the deck of the Gett'se. They had several minutes before any of the smaller vessels would be in range, but the mass drivers of the Keldabe-class battleship were much more suited to long range attacks. To make things worse for the Confederates, the Mandalorians were operating their ships without running lights and were not broadcasting transponder codes. It would hopefully keep the Imperials unaware of them until it was too late. Should that not work they would pound the Confederacy into the forests of Kashyyyk anyway.

"Mass drivers are primed, Mand'alor. Ready to fire on your signal."

"Lock onto target and fire on my mark... Mark."

Two flashes of brilliant orange light erupted from the large capital ship and moments later, what looked like flaming comets with tails of fire streaked toward the Atonement's hangar bay. It would be a devistating attack, especially since these ships were a new aquisition and it was doubtful the Confederacy had ever faced something like it before. Kyr smiled behind her helmet with the grim satisfaction that even if they did not hit thier mark, and they found purchase elsewhere on the hull, the Confederates wouldn't know what hit them until it was too late.

"Taste the wrath of the Mandalorians, Confederate scum..."


(( Did the Carasuum hit it's mark? [Note that even if it did not, the mass drivers are unaffected by shields should it find purchase anywere else on the ship]

Mando'a translation can be found here. ))

This post has been edited by Kyr Ad on Mar 11 2008, 04:04 AM

(( The shot to the hangar hits home, causing an impressive amount of damage, although it is confined to the hangar area. ))

The Grand Admiral found her wariness justified when over two dozen Confederation ships soon dropped out of hyperspace, appearing in open space some ways away from both the Alliance fleet as well as Kashyyyk. As she had already ordered the ships under her command to move towards assuming a orbital defense posture, the Alliance's forces were far closer to making orbit than their opponents. They should be able to arrive at the planet in time to form an effective barrier against the Confederate invasion. The Dolomarian invaders would have to cross a brutal, pummeling gauntlet if they were to attempt their mission of conquest. They may have set the trap, but it was Aella who would draw the battle lines for her own benefit.

From the configuration of the Dolomarian fleet, it would appear they were indeed planning on engaging in a primary ground assault, as she had previously predicted. Unlike on the previously neutral planet of Mandalore, where the Confederate cowards had pounded away on the unsuspecting cities from orbit, here they would have to make a landing in order to secure their intended cargo--namely, Wookiee slaves. It would seem greed had reared its ugly head once again as a primary motivator of the Dolomarian leadership. If Aella were currently capable of emotion, she would find the whole concept rather disgusting. As it was, she merely filed the detail away for later consideration in her long-term tactical plots. Such vices were often useful as exploitable weaknesses in your opponents.

Manipulating the controls on her wrist com yet again, she engaged the secure and scrambled com channel for intrafleet traffic. "Taridon to all ships: proceed ahead full; set course to intercept the Confederate fleet at vector coordinates 13 mark 47, range two thousand kilometers." Over the encrypted frequency came back the verbal acknowledgements from each ship's commanding officer. As if it were composed of a single entity under the command of one mind alone, the battle-ready Alliance armada tore across space towards the Grand Admiral's chosen stage for the first exchanges of the upcoming battle.

As her orders were carried out, Aella began to consider further details of the fleet's formation. Her available resources to work with were limited: the fleet flagship Justicar, 9 Nebulon-B escort frigates (including the one Intelligence Director Loran currently traveled on), 3 Lancer-class frigates, 5 Star Galleon-class frigates, 8 blockade runners, and 10 CR90 corvettes, along with each ship's complement of fighters, shuttles, ground assault vehicles, and other support craft. Numerically speaking, the Alliance fleet was larger than the Confederation's own forces; however, on the whole the Confederate ships were of heavier classes than Aella's own vessels, which had to be taken into serious account. Still, judging a ship by mass tonnage alone was something of a tactical fallacy; there were a great many more subtleties to consider in straight ship-to-ship comparisons.

"Engage tactical display," she addressed the ship's computer. Immediately, a graphically simple 3-D rendering of the surrounding fleets and the ships currently populating it sprang into view in front of Aella's command chair. Rising from her seat, she began to pace around the constantly changing holographic representation, viewing her fleet and her advancing intended victims from multiple perspectives.

Once more she opened the com channel to the rest of her naval force. "Clear all troop shuttles and landing craft scheduled in the first wave of attack for launch. Upon successful shuttle deployment, blockade runners Virtuous and Ascendant, corvettes Dawnrunner, Quicksilver, Far Horizon, Equidistant, and Hunter's Moon, along with their full complement of starfighters, will perform escort duty for the shuttles."

"The remaining corvettes, along with Star Galleon frigates Reliant, Intrepid, and Excelsior are to take their fighter squadrons and go after the Acclamators and any other troop transports the Confederates send down into the atmosphere, away from their Tartan shield ships. Focus on the primary and secondary reactors as well as the bridge of the capital ships to bring them down quickly. I want the maximum amount of casualties in the least amount of time." The Grand Admiral's brand of efficiency sometimes bore a resemblance to brutality, though in Aella's defense she simply abhorred any sort of potential waste of time, equipment, or personnel. If the fleet dallied about choosing nonlethal targets and attempting to take prisoners, they would leave themselves open to opportunistic strikes by their enemies.

"Once the ground forces are away, all Nebulon-B frigates are to assume a staggered position within the fleet, designated defense formation Dorn, to both engage the enemy capital ships as well as protect the smaller vessels in the fleet. All three Lancer-class escorts are to assume a rotating delta formation around the Justicar to fend off enemy fighters." The last thing Grand Admiral Taridon wanted to happen to her flagship in this battle was for it to develop a bad case of Trench Run Disease, after all.

"All remaining vessels, assume your positions within the lattice structure of defense formation Dorn." This complicated fleet formation was one Aella had designed in the past year. It interleaved smaller and larger vessels together in a complicated pattern of strong and weak, allowing no clear opening for a direct result, while providing enough illusion of a potential flaw in the design to lure unsuspecting enemy vessels into a 'blind alley' of surrounding ships, who would almost certainly make quick work of any intruders. Leading at the fore of the flotilla of artfully arranged ships would be the Justicar itself, directing the full fury of its impressive armament at the largest enemy targets to keep her opponents as off balance as possible.

As she watched the symbolic representations of her vessels follow her commands on the tactical display, she switched her com over to yet another frequency, this one a direct line to the Director of Intelligence's designated shuttle. "Taridon to Loran: engagement with the enemy is imminent. All first wave troop transports will launch in fifteen seconds, mark. My ships will escort you down into the atmosphere. After that, it's your show. Good hunting." As acting Grand Marshall, all ground engagements were under Loran's jurisdiction, and the Grand Admiral was more than happy to give him that particular 'privilege'. She would have her hands full enough with the battle in the skies without having to worry about those slugging it out dirtside. While she knew Wes Loran was not primarily a military sort of leader these days, she had full confidence that he would be able to handle the challenge before him with great proficiency. The Director of Intelligence had proven himself a singularly resourceful individual in her many years of acquaintance with him.

In fifteen seconds on the dot, the alpha strike force of Alliance ground troops departed carrier vessels throughout the fleet, their engines burning brightly as they and their assigned escorts shot towards the planet's surface. Shortly thereafter, the vessels Aella had designed to take down the Confederation's own personnel carrier ships had streaked down into the atmosphere after the first Acclamator to make its run. The capital ship would be about as maneuverable as a brick in its descent, leaving it an easy target for Aella's subordinates.

As the Alliance fleet took its place in orbit, blocking the Confederate's original planned course, the first barrages of turbolaser and concussion missile soon lit up the Kashyyyk skies, even as the clouds of starfighters surrounding both fleets began to clash with one another. "Initiate firing of all main batteries at the Confederate fleet. Focus fire on the lead Hammerhead-class ship and the Tartans immediately surrounding it. Wait for the Star Destroyer to close with us further before targeting it; at this range, it would only be a waste of energy and warheads."

Soon the heavy reverberation of shipboard weapons fire shivered through the Justicar's deckplates. The cold emptiness of outer space was soon filled with an incandescent display of fire between the two opposing fleets, from the small bursts of starfighter blaster cannons to the blinding green and red blazes of capital ship-scale turrets from the other ships in the Alliance armada. Several miniscule suns flared to life for a few fleeting instants as several snubfighter pilots became the first casualties of war. Aella kept one ear focused on deciphering the various reports that started coming in from every ship while she continued to focus on her overarching plan of attack.

After further examination of the shifting blips and informational listings on the holographic display, something about the entire scenario began to bother Aella. At first it was only a niggling sort of doubt, but it soon exploded into a full blown mental battle alert. "Something's wrong," she suddenly declared aloud to her crew without preamble. A few heads on the bridge turned in the Grand Admiral's direction questioningly at her abrupt exclamation. She paid them no heed, continuing to speak at the whirling 3-D imagery she was observed now with ever increasing suspicion. "The Confederation prides itself on overwhelming displays of force; by their standards, their showing so far has been paltry, bordering on pathetic. This isn't the full strike force. It can't be. That's the trap..."

The level of intensity in her stare, already rather uncomfortable by normal standards of politeness, had risen in strength by several degrees as she whirled to face her waiting crew. "There's going to be an ambush. Inform all vessels to keep every shield arc powered to full, and to maintain all gunnery crews on alert status. We must be prepared to face a threat from any and all corners." Ducking their heads away from the consideration of those fierce emerald eyes, Aella's well-trained crew implemented her commands. As the Grand Admiral's warnings were finished being transmitted to the necessary officers throughout the fleet, the silver-haired woman began to stride over towards the sensor station once again. "Have you detected any anomalous readings within--"

Abruptly the entire bulk of the Justicar rocked noticeably to port, at the same time numerous targeting lock alerts and proximity alarms began blaring. Aella kept herself upright by latching one thin-fingered hand on the edge of the sensor console, her other hand rising briefly to keep her uniform cap from taking an unceremonious tumble to the deck. No one wanted to see their commanding officer looking dishevelled at such a criticial juncture--it was bad for morale. "Admiral, a Star Dreadnaught has just decloaked off our starboard side!" reported the Lieutenant manning sensors. "They've unloaded their full armament at us!" Over the bridge speakers came a cacaphony of overlapping transmissions, as every ship in the Alliance fleet took it upon itself to report on this new development. It was one of those points in Aella's life where even she did not enjoy being right.

"Damage report!" Aella called out in an authoritative tone over the din of noise. After so many decades and so many dozens of battles, she was well accustomed with how exactly to pitch her voice in order to pierce through any interfering sound. "Minor hull damage reported on twelve decks, no atmospheric breaches detected," the Sergeant at the damage control station shouted back to the Grand Admiral across the length of the bridge. "Shields down to 80 percent but holding for now." They could have fared a lot worse in the sneak attack, and the veteran commander knew it well. Her ship and her crew were to be commended for weathering the potentially dangerous situation so well. Now it was up to her to see their strength and dedication did not go unrewarded.

As cold and serene as a frozen-over lake, Aella returned to doing what she did best: turning any potential setback into an advantage for her side. "Divert power from all nonessential systems to the shields. Return fire on the Dreadnaught, and begin to come about to face the Confederate ship head-on." This would not only allow for turrets on multiple arcs of fire to get their chance to inflict damage on the enemy vessel, but it would also reduce the amount of target area the Justicar presented to its opponent. The Viscount class was designed to be more compact than a Star Dreadnaught, but a great deal more resilient in its construction and with more available space for weapons and fighters. It was an interesting matchup, this showdown between the two massive capital ships, and it presented a number of fascinating scenarios that could be played out for the benefit of either party.

"Lieutenant, what's the shield status on the enemy Dreadnaught?" Aella was the picture of patience as she endured the few seconds wait before the young woman had a suitable answer for her. "Sir, all their shield power is directed on their port side!" A triumphant spark flared then in Aella's eyes, as she perceived immediately her opportunity for a crushing counter to the Confederate's treacherous entry into the fray. With all available haste, she opened the encrypted intrafleet frequency yet again. "Taridon to the fleet: all vessels within firing range of the Confederate Dreadnaught, maneuver to direct your fire at its starboard side. They are completely unshielded in that area. I repeat, attack the starboard flank of the Confederate Star Dreadnaught immediately. Inflict as much damage to them as possible before they can cycle their shield grids and deploy their fighter complements."

The Grand Admiral watched with predatory interest as the tactical holographic display showed a large number of vessels immediately move to converge on the Atonement's vulnerable flank. The Dreadnaught's appearance in the midst of the Alliance fleet flanking the Justicar was working to its disadvantage in this case, as it had placed itself within close range of a number of the Alliance's heavier ships. She had no illusions that this would be an immediate death blow for the Confederate behemoth, but it could very well be a crippling blow instead, one that would likely haunt the Atonement's commander for the duration of the engagement. Aella would show the Confederation that such simple cloak-and-dagger tactics would not bear much fruit when used against the Alliance. She doubted anyone on the opposite side of the battlelines could match her for tactical acumen and sheer length of military experience. After all, she had served in the Confederation's own navy for fifteen years; she knew exactly who and what she was up against, and on the whole she was not all that impressed.

Even as the first waves of fighters, frigates, escorts, and corvettes pummelled the Attonement's bare hull, the Lieutenant at sensors had yet another surprise report to make to her commander. "Admiral, we're receiving reports of unknown weapons fire emanating outside the sphere of battle." This caused Aella to pause in her consideration of the holographic display in front of her command chair and turn towards the younger woman. "Is it directed at us? Can you track it to its source?" The junior officer hastily shook her head, even as her fingers spidered again over the controls in front of her. "No sir... it seemed to be directed at the Confederate Dreadnaught, though that has not been verified as of yet. Whoever's out there, they're running silent and have their transponders turned off. We don't have enough sensor contact on them to make a clear ID."

The Grand Admiral pursed her lips momentarily as she mulled over this new information. "We shall ignore them for now," Aella concluded after a few seconds. "But keep your eye on them; let me know if they show any signs of becoming hostile towards us, or if they identify themselves."

(( Did the ships and fighters in the strike force Aella sent after the Confederate Acclamator manage to disable/destroy the vessel before it could land? Did they destroy any other troop carriers as well?

How much damage did the Justicar and the rest of the fleet inflict on the Confederacy Hammerhead and Tartans before they were interrupted by the decloaking of the Atonement?

What damage did the Justicar inflict on the Atonement? What damage did other ships/fighters in the fleet inflict on the Atonement's unshielded starboard side?

I'd ask if the escort ships got the Alliance's troops (and Wes) safely down to Kashyyyk, but that's probably something I should leave for Indy to deal with in her next post. XD ))

(( Ships of both factions seem to crumble under enemy fire on their way to the planet's surface. The Acclamator takes serious damage, but manages to land most of its troops safely through transport ships.

The Alliance forces are able to take down several Confederation vessels that were spearheading the attack, but suffered minor losses themselves. When the Dreadnaught makes it appearance the tide seems to turn in advantage of the Confederation. The Dreadnaught takes hull damage in several places, but only minor amounts. The Atonement's shields hold up pretty well, despite the attack on it. They are now at 85%. ))

Wes would have described the whole situation as exciting if he hadn’t been commanding countless soldiers in this fight. He’d always liked the adrenaline rush it brought, but he’d been in a shielded cockpit in all his other battles, or in hiding and knowing the odds. They had an estimate of what they were facing of course, but nothing was set in stone. It would be too easy if that had been the case.

He knew the fleet was most likely in motion, as he’d made the pilot switch to the Alliance comm. channel to listen in on the chatter going on. While most happened over private channels to the ships in question, some messages went out to all the ships, meaning they had some chance of knowing what was happening. Wes above all liked knowing what was going on, as he found himself prone to worry if not.

"Taridon to Loran: engagement with the enemy is imminent.”

He gave a slow nod as she spoke, listening to her orders. Wes knew she was handing the ground forces over to him, as was his job as the Grand Marshal, but he felt uncomfortable with that. He hadn’t done much coordinated battle in a long time, as he was behind the scenes most of the time. The need had come for him to step up, and he’d done what needed to be done.

He gave a small sigh, clapping the pilot on the shoulder. “Time to get into action, buddy.” The pilot gave him a grin, shining of the customary confidence pilots had. The young pilot’s demeanour brightened his mood, while he knew the soldiers serving the Alliance were capable, visible proof of them retaining faith in imminent battle made Wes happy.

He made his way to the rest of the forty nine soldiers collected in the troop carrier, all remaining still and chatting quietly. Wes seated himself and tapped the barrel of his rifle as he felt the ship start to move, the push from the thrusters as they shot out of the hangar.

Wes’ gaze turned to a soldier next to him; he was tense and looked worried. He reached out and put his hand on the young soldiers shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze as he gave the soldier a reassuring look. The soldier looked up at him and gave a shaky grin, seemingly a bit reassured. The young soldier’s eyes landed on Wes’ rank markings and seemed to redden, giving a clumsy salute. Wes laughed, thumped the soldier’s helmet and turned his attention back to his rifle.

An odd sense of calm came over him, time seemed to slow and sound grew muffled as he experienced a sort of limbo where he simply gazed. Looked at the soldiers around him, their expressions, how each and every one of them seemed unique. Some were laughing and joking, some were quietly watching while others seemed to be digesting the fact that they were going into battle.

Seconds later, the world slammed back, turbulence hitting them as they entered the atmosphere with too much speed, but the pilot compensated quickly. Wes almost grabbed the bulkhead to steady himself, but stopped before he did so, as he really didn’t need steadying.

He hoped the descent to the ground would be uneventful.

((Did the troop shuttles land safely on the upper levels of the villages on Kashyyyk or did they meet resistance?))

(( A negligible amount of carriers get shot down. The rest land safely. The Confederation are preoccupied getting their own carriers down to the planet safely. ))

Varian groaned heavily as the Mandalorians entered the battle watching the Alliance fleet stack the odds against the Confederation. However, he gave a look of relief as the Atonement dropped it's cloak and opened fire.

"Well, I guess now's a good a time as any to name this ship." Varian mumbled to himself. Turning to his bridge staff thinking to himself a possible name for the ship. "Alright men, your about to witness me naming this ship. Since we'll be remembered here his day. From this moment fourth, this Hammerhead class vessel shall be known as the... Bloodstone Yes.. I think I quite like that..."

Varian turned towards the battle again, as the newly named Bloodstone continued to lead the Acclamators around Kashyyyk's orbit. Whilst the second Acclamator began to land. Varian reached for a small console in front of him. "What is your status down on the planet Major?"

"Sir! The Alliance have also begun landing troops!" The Major replied nervously.

"Yes, I'm aware of this. I shot at least one of them down." Varian replied angrily.

"Sorry sir, what are your orders?"

"Deploy the artillery as soon as you can. Make sure those Alliance soldiers are DEAD." Varian closed the comm channel without further discussion.

"Status of the Tartan cruisers?" Varian snapped at a bridge officer.

"Sir, we've lost some of them the others continue to fire at whatever they can."

"Tell four of them to recall their TIEs, and then order them to shove as many explosives as possible inside of them. Then lauch them at that Viscount class. I want that thing destroyed!"

The bridge officer nodded, relaying the orders towards the Tartans whom were to recall TIE's and blast them - explosive filled, at the Viscount class.

"I want those all Tartans to also focus fire at it's shielding. If it's shields go down we're more likely to have it retreat! Tell the fighters to focus on the frigates too. "

Varian paced along the bridge. Thinking to himself of ways to combat the Alliance and Mandalorians combined. Muttering to himself. Before he clicked his fingers, with a grin on his face. Walking rather quickly to his comm officer.

"Alright, boarding parties are going to be used. Any Tartan that finds itself being overwhelmed. Shall abandon it's ship, after settings it's course to crash into that Viscount class. I want it's shields gone!" Varian sounded slightly confident that this would actually do some form of damage. "I also want the Pelleon class to cover the flank of the Atonement. I do not want that ship to be lost. Do I make myself clear?" Varian peered at the comm officer. Whom quickly responded to transmit the orders to the Pelleon.

Varian smiled as he saw TIE fighters re-enter the hangar bays of the Tartan cruisers. Being filled with high grade explosives, whilst being prepped to be thrust back into space heading straight for the Viscount class cruiser. As he turned his head at the fighters blasting away at the frigates with everything they had.

"Good... Very good." Varian mumbled as the fighters were launched.

((Do the explosive filled TIE's do much against the Viscounts shielding. Along with the Tartan patrol cruisers blaster fire. Also, do the fighters do anything handy against the various frigates? Also does the Pelleon manage to make it to cover the Atonements flank?))

((Answering Did I because the lack of staff response from those not involved is holding the whole thread back. This Did I was answered with input from several parties.

The TIE's are shot down before they get there. The extra weight of the explosives making them slower than usual, easier targets for the Alliance fighter pilots and the newly joined Mandalorians. The run is pure suicide, as the Viscount is heavily guarded. It seems your waste of Confederate ships wasn't worth much, if anything.

The fighters do their best to target the frigates, but in the midst of clouds of enemy fighters only a few hits are made, none fatal for the frigates. As with the Viscount, there's just too many enemies for any effective attack on the Alliance and Mandalorian forces.))