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| - Ensign Chak Ravartin maneuvered his Aurek fighter into formation with the rest of the 23rd Marine Squadron, taking up station alongside the leader of Two Flight. “Shabu Six is on station,” he reported as, similarly, the rest of the twelve pilots in the newly-replenished squadron acknowledged their readiness. So far, his first combat mission had proved uneventful, but he suspected that such delusions of normalcy were just that. As the last pilot checked in, he rubbed at the charm he wore around his right wrist, which he contended had always brought him luck whenever he had worn it during a swoop race. “Shabu Lead to Dalus Lead, we're ready when you are,” the squadron leader announced to the second unit in the formation, the 52nd Naval boys. The two squadrons, which had been dispatched from Admiral Hetton's task force, were to harass the Sith presence in the Roche asteroid belt, which had been conquered a few weeks prior. With the Republic having been forced only recently from the Verpines' home system, the small force had a good idea of where to strike and how. The mission briefing had been thorough, and Chak had gone through it over and over during the long hyperspace voyage to the target area. The target's designation in Basic was Cobalt Jenth Two-seven, and it housed a formerly Verpine-run shipyard and repair facility. Using the outer asteroids as cover, the two units were to close on the target from two opposite directions; the Marines would launch proton torpedoes at the facilities, then go after targets of opportunity while the Navy fighters would take on any of the new Sith interceptors or other space forces that attempted to intervene. If no spaceborne enemies presented themselves, both squadrons would wreak as much havoc as possible before their fuel hit bingo—meaning that they had come to their maximum endurance before having to break off for home. As the squadron leaders acknowledged one another, the two formations split, each on their own ingress angle. Chak kept close to his flight leader; though he desperately wanted to shred some Sith fighters, he knew that his duty was to watch the other pilot's back, serving as an extra set of deflectors and sensors. He still wasn't quite sure what to make of that thought, interposing himself between an enemy and an ally. Sure, he had been a talented swooper back on Coruscant, and his simulator scores were good enough, but he'd never really allowed the idea of dying for a stranger to take hold of him. Most of the others had made fun of his superstitions, and his charm had been stolen more than once during his training, though the guilty party had always managed to sneak it back into his possession somehow. “Shabu Lead, Three here. I've got eyes on the nearest wave of rocks. Twelve klicks out at zero-three-niner.” “Understood, Shabu Three,” the commander replied, his cool, professional tones soothing in Chak's ears. “All flights, in we go, scatter formation.” “Scatter formation, acknowledged,” Shabus Five and Nine replied. Chak knew that this was an infiltration tactic, designed to disguise intent as well as strength. The basics of the formation varied depending on the circumstances: above a planet, scatter formation involved the three flights breaking into six wingpairs, which would take zigzag courses and use terrain-following flying to sneak in on the target; in space, the tactic was only used in asteroid fields, where the six pairs could hop from asteroid to asteroid seemingly at random, but keeping to a broader arc designed to take them into the target area. Chak decided that he liked the idea of playing hide-and-seek amongst asteroids, it reminded him of having dodged airspeeders amongst the congested traffic lanes of his homeworld. “Pull it in, Six,” his flight leader ordered as, dimly, Chak realized that he'd drifted slightly. Tapping ethereal rudder, he swung his Aurek back into line with Five as the lead starfighter sideslipped a cruiser-sized carbonaceous rock. Close on each other's wings, the two ships shot from asteroid to asteroid, going port, starboard, relative down, port again, then relative up before a final turn to port. “Shabu Five to Lead, I've got eyes on,” the senior lieutenant announced. “Acknowledged, Five. Squadron, bring it in on Five's location. Set wings to attack position.” The comm was silent; there was no need to reply. Each fighter's computer, when put into scatter mode, periodically squawked the other fighters in the squadron, helping the pilots to maintain unit cohesion. This was not without its drawbacks, as comm jamming prevented the system from returning results; in addition, if an enemy had pinpointed the rendezvous point, the entire unit could come under concentrated fire as it came back together. This was why the formation was only intended to be used for surprise attacks. Within minutes, the squadron had reformed for the run in on Cobalt J-27, their systems prepped for combat. Now in a following formation, with each flight stacked behind one another, the 23rd Marines increased to full attack speed. “Target ahead,” Shabu Three announced, “adjust angle by point five.” Chak did as ordered, and his sensors immediately painted the image of a repair facility onto his primary monitor. Even better, the facility was not empty; a small transport bearing Sith markings appeared to be moored there. “Shabu Lead to all wingpairs: fire at will, fire at will, fire at will!” The formation broke into two-ship elements once more. The comm unit was lit up with cries of “tone acquired, fox one!” as twenty-four proton torpedoes were sent screaming into the facilities built around the shell of the asteroid, which was the size of a small cluster of battlecruisers. Chak smiled as the transport he had targeted imploded under the impact of his missiles, fires flaring briefly throughout its hull as the force of the detonations ripped it from its moorings. The hulk slammed into another repair dock, ripping it free of the station and sending debris spiraling off into space. The torpedoes of Shabu Five, meanwhile, had slammed into a hangar bay, easily bypassing its magcon shield and detonating within. The force of the twin blasts sent debris gushing out of the bay, which included the shells of three Sith interceptors that had died before they had been manned. As the element leader peeled away, Chak was hot on his exhaust, and together the two fighters looped back around for another pass. This time, their torpedoes found and busted open a bulk freighter almost as large as a Hammerhead-class cruiser, which split in two and scattered its cargo across the surface of the asteroid. “Shabu Nine to Lead, Three Flight is out of torps. Looks like this base won't be repairing anything for months.” “Affirmative, Nine,” Lead replied. “Squadron, form up and get some distance between us and the base while I notify Dalus.” The comm went silent for a minute as the twelve Aureks came back together, heading for the outer rings of the Roche belt. “Dalus reports that they're outbound,” Lead announced. “They caught a half-squad of interceptors guarding an incoming cruiser. The slims are dead and they're finishing off the capital, it looks like it had suffered some pretty heavy battle damage.” “Lead, Six here,” Chak inquired. “Five and I have torps left, if they need help.” “Settle down, kid,” Eleven chimed in, her voice light. “You'll get your chance to shoot something live.” “Secure that chatter,” Lead admonished. “Dalus is clear and heading for lightspeed, and we're doing the same. We've done our job, people, now it's time to head home so we can rest up for the main event.” The flight leaders acknowledged the order to head home. As the squadron exfiltrated the asteroid field in order to make a clean jump into hyperspace, Chak replayed in his mind's eye the events of the attack. The thought of that transport blowing up and taking half the dockyard with it was pleasing to him. — — — Rear Admiral Kadlis Hetton stood, his back facing the hatchway to the large, well-appointed quarters his rank warranted, as he gazed through the transparisteel viewport to the starfield beyond. The two squadrons of Aurek fighters had just returned from their mission to the Roche system, and were even now docking with the Stalwart Defender to rearm and refuel while their pilots reported their results and got in one last rest before the Iridonian raid commenced. The admiral, a native of Corulag, sometimes imagined what it would have been like to have been able to fight the Mandalorians in starship combat. He knew that it was only his assignment as head of this very task force, then charged with patrolling the other side of the Republic, that had kept both his warships and their crews intact throughout the fighting. He suspected that, were it not for the intervention of the Jedi, he would have gotten his wish, and would not have liked the results. As it stood, he knew where his loyalties lay, and was glad he had not been called upon to join the Revanchist crusade. Prior to the treason of Revan and Malak, Hetton had only ever met a Jedi once, when he had served as helmsman on a destroyer bringing a cadre of Knights back to Coruscant from a training academy on Arkania. On the few occasions that he had talked to one during the trip, he had found them to be decent company, if a little self-absorbed, but he had considered that par for the course when each of them commanded the same level of power as a squad of troopers. The three Jedi Knights stationed aboard his cruisers, however, were different, subdued, as though a great physical trauma had been inflicted upon them by the recent tide of events that had swept through the galaxy. He certainly understood how they felt, as he too had had friends and comrades who had defected to the Sith cause. As if in deliberate contrast, however, he found himself admiring the Padawan aboard his flagship, except that she wasn't simply a Padawan, but also commander of the battalion of Republic Marines that had been brought aboard for this deployment. The formerly-deceased Captain Laera Reyolé was, in his opinion, a firebrand, a highly-motivated warrior who had earned in full every decoration in her service record, and just the kind of leader the Republic needed at this time. The fact that she now commanded the Force made her even more worthy of admiration, and Hetton found himself wishing he'd been given a dozen more like her. The plan she had put together for this counterattack was elegant in its simplicity and inspired in its sheer audacity, and he had agreed to it at once with little else to suggest by way of refinement. His only concern had been the proximity of Iridonia to a major hyperlane, but the Marine officer had assured them that, were he to take up station on the edge of the larger moon's gravity well, he would be in excellent position to pounce on any Sith warships that happened by. The Stalwart Defender, he knew, was a good ship. One of the last surviving Centurion-class battlecruisers that was still under Republic command, it was powerful, and capable of fielding an entire wing of starfighters, as well as carrying many more troops aside from the men and women of the Third Battalion. The two units he had sent on the diversionary raid represented only a third of his starfighter strength, but Captain Reyolé had wanted to limit the number of units involved in the actual attack, in order to mask the true size of the task force. What was more, most of the pilots of the 51st, 53rd, 54th and 55th Squadrons were fresh from flight school, or else had spent barely more than a year with the Fleet prior to the declaration of war. The crews of all four of his ships, on the other hand, were well-drilled and experienced, having honed their skills in border skirmishes in the years before and during the Mandalorian conflict. Provisioning was also not a problem, as his flagship carried enough stores and ordnance to last the task force for up to a year of continuous operation. The object of the upcoming attack was not so much the acquisition of supplies, but their denial to the enemy, and the boost in morale and propaganda value that such a counterblow would net throughout the Republic. As he continued to gaze into space, his thoughts focused on the fighting to come, the intercom at Hetton's desk buzzed. He turned, strode toward it, and pressed the activator. “Yes, Lieutenant, what is it?” “Admiral, the Aureks are all aboard,” his yeoman replied, her tone that of professional detachment. “Commanders Elli and Juyode have finished their debriefing, and have submitted their reports. They, along with Captain Reyolé, would like to see you.” “Very well,” Hetton replied, smiling. “Show them in.” The hatchway clicked and hissed open, and three officers, two Human and one a Twi'lek, with the commanders in flight suits and the captain clad in Marine BDUs, entered and saluted. Hetton returned the salute, then motioned for all of them to sit. “Report, please,” he inquired politely. Veris Elli, leader of the 52nd Starfighter Squadron, at the deference of the Marine captain, spoke first, her lekku twitching slightly. “The Roche diversion was a complete success,” she said, the pride in her unit and its mission obvious in both her countenance and voice. “The facility at Cobalt J-27 was neutralized, along with a transport, a bulk freighter filled with cargo, a half-squadron of Sith interceptors, and a damaged Interdictor-class cruiser.” The admiral shook his head in awe. “More than we could have ever hoped for,” he beamed. “Commanders, please relay my personal regard to your pilots, it should help them rest easier for their next mission.” “Aye-aye, sir,” both officers acknowledged in unison before trading salutes and departing. “I must say, this is quite an auspicious start,” Admiral Hetton said after the hatch had closed. “Yes, Admiral,” Laera replied, her own smile more predatory. “Before this, I wasn't completely sure that Navy fliers could handle Marine tactics in such a situation, but I'm glad to be proven wrong.” Hetton let the slight cheek in the Marine officer's tone pass unnoticed, as inter-service rivalries were as much a part of military life as morning PT. He had to admit that the captain was correct, however; asteroid-dodging was not something that the Republic Navy typically taught its pilots in flight school. On top of that, this excursion had proved the effectiveness of the scatter formation, which had been developed very recently, and only after the calamity at Foerost. “What is your sense of the mission now, Captain, in light of the success of your diversion?” he asked. “When this circulates among the task force, sir, morale will skyrocket,” she replied, her eyes bright. “What is more, the two squadrons now have battle experience, and won't be going in raw or understrength. My only concern is that they might not be rested enough before we lift off.” “Is there a way we can account for that?” Hetton asked, his eyebrow slightly raised. He wanted to make sure that the woman before him was ready to accept the go-ahead. “Should we postpone the mission by a day?” “No sir, I don't feel that we can afford a postponement,” Captain Reyolé declared. “We've done all that can be done, all that can be expected. Tomorrow, we'll either emerge victorious, with an abundance of extra supplies, or we'll all be dead. There can be no middle ground, Admiral, no compromise; we win or lose it all on Iridonia.”
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