Lucky Strike (A Star Wars SI)

[MarkWarrior]

As kids, we used to play with plastic lightsabers, quoting movies, and laughing as we pretended to be Jedi or Sith. As adults, we like to claim that we left those dreams behind. That we matured and grew up and out of that kind of make-believe.

Of course, I'd thought it was the coolest thing ever when I woke up on Coruscant, the gleaming city, the skyscrapers larger than life, the speeders moving through the skies, and the distant spacecraft doing their endless shuffle to bring food, commodities, and whatever else the wealthiest of the Galaxy desired.

At first, I'd been filled with a sense of awe, the dreams of my childhood, the hopes I'd had as a teenager, finally showing fruit. After all, the sky wasn't even the limit here, the opportunities were endless.

Unfortunately, that initial burst of joy and happiness died soon after. Along with not having my family here, there were more complications. Without paperwork, I didn't exist to the Republic, and even in the Outer Rim, there was documentation or IDs for nearly everyone. So, it was assumed I was a criminal, and I was tossed into a cell and left to rot.

So much for the Ideals of the Republic. The only 'aid' I ever saw when I was living on the streets was a few people who showed kindness and helped me find clothing and temporary shelter for a few nights before I tried to move on.

I could've tried to find a place with the gangs of the undercity, but that didn't sit right with me. So, I had slowly climbed my way up to see the sky again before being thrown right back into the pervasive darkness that I'd just escaped.

At least here I got three meals of slop and a warm bed. That was better than what you could count on getting on a lot of the lower levels. But I was more isolated here than I had been down in the Undercity. I had no access to information, the prison guards considered us less than dirt, and everyone else here knew that I wasn't a hardened criminal. It was almost like they could smell it.

But they could tell that I'd had to do some pretty sketchy shit to survive down in the undercity and didn't want to push their luck. So, most of them avoided me, leaving me to my little corner of the prison to enjoy the quiet. After all, it wasn't like I had anything else I was allowed to do aside from check out books from the prison library that I was teaching myself to read.

---

I wasn't sure how long I'd spent in the prison complex when the offer was made. It was probably shorter or longer than whatever I thought it was, but I'd read through the entire library twice, once I'd taught myself how to read Basic, and was finally starting to plan a way to legally get out of here when he arrived.

Lieutenant Condev Teskit was a solidly built middle-aged man. His uniform was pressed and clean, his face clean-shaven, and he was on a mission here. An offer to those willing to take it.

"Serve the Republic in the war against the Confederacy of Independent Systems, and your sentences will be summarily dismissed." His gray eyes looked at each of us, searching us and looking for guts, wisdom, I still wasn't sure what he was looking for. I'm not sure I had it, but he saw something in me because he accepted my signature with a stern smile and a nod as if he already knew what plans he had for me.

Not a single other person in the prison volunteered. Which is how I learned that they were all near the end of their sentences, or due for court cases. I nearly laughed when I read into the details. With the way the Republic courts worked, and the planetary courts on Coruscant, they'd be in prison for longer than their sentences were. But their lawyers always seemed to get them out ahead of time. Whether on a technicality or through some legal loophole, the people who could afford it never remained for more than a few days at a time. For everyone else, our court dates were set years, if not decades ,away.

So, I was the only one who'd found a way out of the prison. Trading in my off-white jumpsuit for the olive drab of the Republic Navy. My long, unkempt beard was shaved away, leaving a barren face, and the long curly mess of hair I'd grown in prison was now a close-cropped buzz.

I still vividly remembered the sights after stepping out of the prison, the skies that I'd thought gorgeous before being arrested were now filled with Venators and Acclimators, more police presence than ever before walked the streets, and off in the distance, the Senate buildings and Jedi Temple standing apart from everything else.

The Republic Navy's basic training was odd compared to what I remembered the military back home going through. It was a lot less focused on physical activity and more focused on ensuring that we all knew our way around the starships that were being used in the Republic Navy. From weapons systems to piloting, we were all thrown into a three month crash-course and told to sink or swim.

Gunnery, piloting, the math on how to calculate hyperspace trajectories, I threw myself into all of it with an energy and a fury I hadn't thought I possessed anymore. I knew that there wasn't anything I could do to convince the Jedi that Palpatine was a Sith Lord. What evidence could I even uncover that wouldn't be buried along with me? After all, I'd spent the first half-decade of my life in this universe crawling up through Coruscant's underbelly before being thrown in jail for the other half. No one would trust me, and at this point I was nearly broken. My spirit had languished with no purpose and no idea what to do.

So, I threw myself into the training, learning everything I could and maxing out my time every chance I could get. Small arms training came second nature to me, I'd long been a person who loved firearms and Blasters were easy comparatively when it came to recoil impulses.

The Sims were where I spent the most time, though. I trained on piloting everything I could during the three-month period. While Starfighters were fun and agile, something inside of me simply loved getting to pilot the big ships. So, I spent time making moving the big lugs around like it was second nature before getting kicked off and into the next phase of training.

---

In the end, I fully expected this to end up being like Warhammer 40k. Despite assurances from various officers in the training courses, I knew that the Republic wasn't the gold standard that everyone thought it was. And I fully expected myself and the other criminal elements to be tossed into the blender of the frontlines to never be heard from again. No one ever cared if penal battalions or crews came back with losses.

Instead, I soon found myself in front of an up-armed Consular Class Light Cruiser on one of the many docking areas for Coruscant. The name Firebird was written across the side of the Consular in Aurebesh, a fresh coat of paint that matched that of a Venator's was on it, and newly installed twin-turbolaser batteries gleamed in the midday sun.

"Mister Hull," a strangely familiar voice interrupted my woolgathering. "If you would join me, we do not have all day."

"Sorry, sir," I dry-swallowed and stood at attention, my mind racing to place the face and voice in the hope that I wouldn't get thrown back into that prison. "It won't happen again."

"See to it that it doesn't," Lieutenant Condev replied, his calm gait carrying him further up the ramp into the ship. "Now come, you're the last crew member, and we're due to join the battlegroup headed for Chrisophsis within the hour."

Shrugging the bag filled with my extra uniforms and the lone datapad I'd scrounged onto my shoulders, I struggled to catch up to the taller man. Eventually, keeping pace with him and following his flanks.

"Stow your bag in cabin Cresh-3, and then join me on the bridge," the man continued on his path. "You'll take your place there, ensign."

"Aye, Captain," I replied, widening my stride to hit the designated cabit and stowed my bag into the small foot locker. Given the nature of my new Commanding Officer, I fully expected for him to be a stickler for cleanliness. Then, closing the door behind me, I moved to the Firebird's bridge.

---

"Permission to enter the bridge, sir?" Ensign Hull asked, pausing outside of the threshold of the bridge.

"Permission granted," Lieutenant Condev Teskit replied, his hands clasped behind his back as he gestured towards the empty seat. "Please take your place in the pilot's seat, Ensign Hull. We don't have time to waste here."

The other man took a seat and then familiarized himself with the controls before mapping them in a way that felt more comfortable to him and setting the communications headset on his head.

"Captain," Janine Franz, the communications officer, looked up. "Control is authorizing us to launch and join the fleet."

"Ensign Hull," Condev looked at the second-oldest member of his bridge crew. "Please follow the directions issued by Control. The space around Coruscant is crowded, and I'd hate for us to collide with another vessel."

"Aye, Sir," The Ensign replied, his professionalism fitting in well with the rest of the bridge crew.

As the Firebird lifted off gently and then boosted for the void of space, Teskit considered his bridge crew. They were all green. They'd never been blooded or fought a battle in the void, much less tangled with pirates or the other scum scattered across the galaxy.

When the Republic Navy had told him to recruit from the prisons of the Core, Teskit had been disgusted with the idea. As an officer of the Judiciary Corps, he had considered it an offense at first. But there were a few gems in the rough he'd seen. Ensign Hull was one, and there were others whom he was keeping an eye on the careers of. If he eventually came to command more than this small ship, then he would need the potentially experienced officers.

Assuming that they survived beyond the first few battles, that was. For now, though, he was stuck with the young faces of his current crew. The refit Consular might be undergunned compared to many ships, but she had good shields and was fast enough that she would be able to do some damage if given the opportunity.

"Receiving transmission from the Negotiator, Captain," Franz looked up, one of her locks coming free from the bun that trapped it and falling in front of her eyes. "We're being instructed to join in the fleet formation. We're to escort the Renown."

"Moving into formation," Ensign Hull reported, his calm control easing the ship into the fleet's formation without a bit of the hull out of line. "Coordinates for Cristophsis are locked in, Captain. Give the word, and we can begin our hyperspace jump."

"Wait until we're given the order, Ensign," Teskit looked out the viewport at the fleet. "The last thing we want to do now is perish alone against the enemy."

Now that they were in position, it turned into a waiting game as the rest of the Open Circle Fleet arrived and split into their battlegroups.

"Captain, we're authorized to jump, I repeat. Authorized to Jump."

"Ensign," The Lieutenant gave the order and watched as the stars turned into streaks ahead of him.

"ETA to Cristophsis is a day and a half, sir," Hull reported.

"Then we meet the enemy in a day," Teskit looked to his crew and found them all looking to him for comfort aside from Ensign Hull, whose gaze was locked with the lights outside of the cockpit.

The Ensign was an odd one to have found within the prison system. Sure, there were plenty of people who went undocumented as citizens of the Republic when it came to the Undercity of Coruscant. Most of them simply went about their business and either joined a gang or became one of the many numbers who worked in the small factories beneath the skyscrapers.

Hull was one of the few who found themselves at the whims of the local jurisdiction when he climbed out of the Undercity. In most cases, he would have been given a slap on the wrist and given a path to rehabilitate somewhere in the Mid Rim. But Hull had happened to climb up during a crackdown on all crime in that subsection of Coruscant. The local gangs had been at war and after one too many businesses were a casualty, the Judiciary officers, local police, and judge had acted swiftly and without mercy, making an example of those who had committed even the smallest crimes.

All of which explained the hard lines on the Ensign's face, the dark bags around his eyes that he didn't even attempt to conceal and the pale skin that seemed almost albino-esq when he'd first witnessed him in the prison.

Now, he seemed healthier and extremely motivated, but only time would tell if the Ensign was truly worth the investment that Teskit had placed in him.

Most of the members of the Republic military recruited from prisons were serving in logistical areas on the frontlines, supplying Clone Troopers and local militia with food and weapons. Treskit had other ideas for a few of them, though, and had dug into his own retirement savings to invest in their futures as potential Republic Navy Officers.

This war wouldn't last forever, and Treskit knew that there would be a need for determined and loyal officers in the Republic after this was all said and done. The Separatists weren't the only ones to think the Republic was weak and failing. Many held such thoughts in the darkest parts of their minds. But there was hope for a change, they just had to win this bloody war first.

 

[Gigant]

Watched

 

[Bishop 7053]

I will watch your career with great interest.

 

[MarkWarrior]

Chapter 1

Location: Christoph System, Savareen Sector, Outer Rim Territories
22 BBY

The stream of stars solidified into coherent light again, and the rest of the Open Circle Fleet dropped out of hyperspace around us, our lone Consular moving as an escort to the Renown, one of the shiny new Venators that had been donated and absorbed into the reformed Republic Navy.

"Captain, FLEETCOM is instructing us to move in and support starfighter wings," Franz reported.

"Excellent," Lieutenant Teskit said calmly, his face set in stone. "Gunner Mattix, we are to remove any bombers that make it through the fighter screen. Ensign Hull, follow all instructions from the fleet until we make contact."

"Aye, sir, initiating burn to received coordinates," I tapped a few controls and felt the giant engines shudder underneath us. If we were on any larger ships, I'd simply be the director of the pilots and sending commands to the copilots. But on a Consular, I had main control, and the two copilots were feeding me information and giving course corrections as needed.

We slowly began to outpace the large wedge-shaped Venators and Acclimators. The Z-95 Headhunters and ARC-170s keeping pace with the other Consular-class refits that had been hastily assigned as escorts for the larger craft. The number of starfighters flying through the void to meet the swarms of droid fighters felt small compared to the masses of droids that were coming to meet us head on.

Despite the speeds we were moving at, it still took time before the clash. As the minutes crawled by, the pit in my stomach grew until suddenly, we were in the middle of the furball.

It was utter chaos around the ship, the sensors screamed at me as droid fighters surrounded us. I clenched my hands around the controls for a moment before the Captain's calm voice carried across the bridge.

"Ensign Hull, come to heading zero-five-four and pitch us up five degrees. Ensign Ronard, increase power to the rear deflectors," Lieutenant Teskit's hands remained clasped behind his back. "Mattix, the sight of those droids offends me, cleanse the space around us and coordinate fire with the starfighter squadrons."

"Adjusting heading to 054, pitching up five degrees, aye sir!" I tapped a control and one of the twin droid copilots began to pitch us up as the slight shift gave us the most coverage over the fighter swarms that surrounded us.

Mattix's control over the five main batteries was absolute, while the few droids that assisted maintained control of the point defenses.

Then, as soon as we were in the furball, we were out of it, our heading had taken us out of the furball and given us a chance to turn around and inflict more damage along the flanks.

"Shields are holding at sixty percent," Ronard reported. "We're still good to go, captain."

"Adjust the course to one-seven-nine and pitch down ten degrees," Teskit ordered. "We're going to swing around and hit the bombers."

"Adjusting course, aye sir," my hands danced on the controls, hitting the side thrusters to spin us to the heading the Lieutenant had indicated.

The Firebird now had clusters of fighters in the forward cone of fire for the turbolaser batteries, the droids and Clone fighters intermingling and spinning around the cruisers that had finally caught up. Dogfights ended in sudden explosions or continued for seconds before splitting off into other directions.

Taking a deep breath, I eased the Firebird back into the furball, twisting the ship with assistance from the lone engineer and the droid copilots that were being used in place of trained personnel at the moment.

"Captain, multiple squadrons within our AO are requesting assistance with clearing out enemy fighter pickets," Franz looked up at the Lieutenant from her chair.

"Find the nearest squadron and forward the coordinates to Ensign Hull, the more fighters we keep in the fight, the more we have to use against the enemy later," Teskit responded. "Have we received anymore orders from FLEETCOM?"

"Negative sir," Franz shook her head. "Though the Seppies jamming is likely preventing us from hearing anything more than the fighters around us."

"Very well," Teskit inclined his head a fraction. "We will continue as previously instructed until we are commanded otherwise. Chief Mattix, please remove the enemy fighters from our area of operations. Petty Officer Franz, the Ship's intercom."

The gunner opened fire on every droid fighter that crossed our path while I attempted to keep any damage to our light frigate at a minimum. Our deflectors barely staying active as we were hit with the blaster cannons of the Vultures that swarmed us.

Then the second wave of Clone Starfighters arrived, the large wedge shapes of the Venators now lending their medium turbolasers and point defenses to the fight and causing the Vultures to break off and streak back to the Lucrehulks that had carried them here.

"Damage report," Teskit glanced around at us.

"Moderate hull damage in sections Aurek and Dorn," Ronard reported. "Deflectors are recharging but the emitters were damaged around most of the ship. We'll only be able to squeeze thirty percent out of our Deflectors until we've made the necessary repairs."

"Engines are intact and still ready for any maneuvers we might need, captain," I flipped through the data on my console. Inertial Dampeners appear to be compensating at ninety percent efficiency."

"Very well. Ensign Ronard, begin repairs, I'll have our Navy Troopers begin rescue operations of surrounding Starfighter pilots," Lieutenant Teskit gestured for Franz to activate the intercoms and began issuing orders. "Ensign Hull, initiate full sensor sweeps in our immediate AO. I want to see how the fleet looks."

Tapping a few controls, I began the sensor sweep. The broad spectrum sweeps giving me a picture of what the void around us looked like. Scattered around us were the broken and shattered frames of starfighters, both separatist and Republic alike. As far as the other Consular class frigates, well, we'd certainly come out better than most of the others.

A third of the other escorts were gone, either shattered into pieces, or drifting without power in the void around us. Another third were in the same position that we were in with minor to moderate damage that would be repaired in the next few hours, days, or weeks.

And the last third were the frigates that had been held back with the Venators and Acclamators.

What was worse than the damage though, were the lifesigns. Hundreds, no thousands drifted through the empty void of space, a few ships like the Firebird were doing search and rescue operations while beginning emergency repairs, but the rest were with the Open Circle Fleet. Intent on breaking the blockade of Christophsis.

---

Twelve hours later…


"Lieutenant Teskit, once you have affected repairs, you're to rejoin the Renown and deliver any rescued personnel to the medical frigates," Admiral Yularen ordered. "The Renown and her escorts are to be dispatched to ensure the hyperlanes between Christophsis and the Mid-Rim remain open to our forces."

"Understood, Admiral," Teskit looked at the hologram of his current commanding officer. "We will begin moving immediately to rejoin the Renown and provide her with an escort."

"Captain Dara will be in command of the battlegroup, any further orders will be relayed through him," Yularen continued. "Begin Comms transfer," the Admiral instructed someone that Teskit couldn't see, the hologram winking out and being replaced with a man that was as young as Teskit's youngest bridge officer.

"Captain Dara," Teskit greeted his new CO, locking the tension of having another green officer be in command behind his iron will and stone facade. "The Firebird is en route to join the rest of your battlegroup. Once we've made contact with the medical frigates and have transferred the starfighter pilots, we'll be ready to join in any fleet actions."

"See to it that it happens in a timely manner," the captain's visage reeked of arrogance even through the hologram. "If you are not present shortly, you may join us along the hyperspace routes."

Teskit swallowed back the initial burst of anger and simply acknowledged the order before gesturing for Franz to cut the communications.

"Ensign, Hull, what time frame are we looking at for docking and unloading of our current passengers?" He asked the pilot.

"Two hours to the medical frigate, and then another to join up with the Renown's battlegroup, Captain," The Ensign replied.

"Very well," Teskit rested his hand on his chin. "Petty officer Franz, relay our ETA to the Renown's command console, and open up a channel to engineering."

"Ensign Ronard, here," A muffled voice responded.

"What is the status of the repairs on the emitter?" the Lieutenant asked the only other veteran on the crew.

"We should be able to get back up to seventy-five percent of peak performance," Ronard replied. "Anything more will require more time than I expect us to have."

"Thank you Ensign, you'll rotate out with the bridge crew once you've returned from making repairs."

Teskit knew the dangers of running a bridge crew ragged. One of the first captains he'd served under had nearly gotten his ship destroyed during the Stark-Hyperspace War. His crew had performed well during this battle so far, but if they were to win the war, then good practices needed to be enforced now while the initial cost of victory was fresh in their minds.

"You have done well," Teskit offered a rare smile as he looked at the small bridge crew. "Second Shift will take your place once we enter Hyperspace. I want all of you to get six hours of rack time at a minimum, eight if possible. Rested minds are less likely to make mistakes in the heat of combat."

The crew of the Firebird was much smaller than one of the cruisers demanded, so having two shifts instead of the usual recommended three was how things were going to have to be run until Teskit had a larger command.

"Sir, do you know why FLEETCOM is weakening our fleet before we've even accomplished our objectives yet?" Ensign Hull asked, gesturing to the small holotable that showed the system.

"Because we came with multiple goals in mind," Teskit walked to the holotable and touched a few controls, zooming out from Christophsis to the surrounding systems and the hyperlanes connecting them. "Christophsis is critical to our defense of this sector of the Mid-Rim not only because of its resources. But also because of its location. Barring several smaller, riskier routes, Christophsis is the anchor to many of the routes that would be required to move large fleet operations through. There is no telling how many raiders and enemies were sneaked in while we were En route. So, we are to ensure that the lanes between the Outer and Mid Rim remain clear of Separatist forces."

Teskit leaned forward and changed the hologram to one of their ship.

"Hopefully we will have repaired most of the damage before we encounter further enemies. But we will do as duty demands of us," Teskit stated plainly.

With the display now showing the battle in space, it was clear that there was a stalemate. The Separatists had retreated behind the moon, and the Republic had landed ground troops to combat the occupation forces. All that remained was to see who would make the first moves to take total control of the void in the system.

But that wasn't the concern of Teskit, so he noted a few key portions of the system for reference if he had to return and then focused on the task at hand.

 

[Yacov]

A Consular light cruiser? Good small ship. Only takes around 9 crew to run fully. 20+ if you want multiple shifts. It's no Venator and certainly won't have a Jedi aboard full time, but still going to see plenty of action.

 

[MarkWarrior]

One of the things that people didn't realize happened after combat was the adrenaline crash. You see, the human body can only stay operating at high alert for so long before it drags itself back down to operating at the normal level. Sure, training and experience can stave off the worst of the effects, but only for a set time.

Now that we were twelve hours after the initial push of the fleet into Christophsis, I was more than exhausted. Sure, I could probably continue piloting and even continue to function if I downed some of the 'caf' that they had here. But, I would rather just go crash in my bunk.

"Captain, we're in formation with the rest of the Renown's battlegroup," I reported as we finally reached the position we'd been ordered into, the maneuvering thrusters nudging us to the exact coordinates we'd been ordered to.
"Second shift, report to the bridge," Lieutenant Teskit leaned over the intercom system that Franz had keyed for him.

A few moments later, the five crew members of second shift had arrived at the bridge. Droids were filling in for the other four slots until we had the personnel freed up for the tasks.

"Avon," I nodded at the Twi'lek that was the secondary pilot. "Let me flip the controls to how you like them."

"Thanks, you get some rest. I'd hate for me to have to fill in for you permanantly," the other pilot chuckled as I touched a few controls and changed the configuration back to the standard for the Consular.

"I'd be fine with you taking over," I shrugged. "You've got more experience."

"I hate flying," The Twi'lek shuddered. "I much prefer being the cargo hauler. Once we pick up a real pilot, I'll gladly go back to the logistical side of things."

"Well, I guess we'll see what happens," I shrugged and stepped out of the pilot's section, using the console as support for a minute before stabilizing and heading for the crew quarters.

My cabin (Cresh-3) was shared with Ensign Ronard. Instead of hot-swapping like the US Navy did back on Earth, we had shared cabins and when the door slid open to reveal the engineer already snoring away on the small bunk.

I quickly stripped out of my uniform and laid down in my bunk, pulled the thin but warm sheet and blanket up, and closed my eyes.

But sleep never came, at least not at first. Instead, my brain went over everything that happened in the void when I was piloting. All of the mistakes, every little thing that I'd done wrong in maneuvering and the places where I could have potentially saved the lives of some of the starfighters and pilots.

Eventually, I sighed and opened my eyes, staring at the ceiling like I'd done in the prison for the last few years and feeling the tension in my spine. Oddly enough, it was that 'click' in my brain that I wasn't in prison anymore that calmed my brain down enough for it to slowly shut down.

With a final yawn, I drifted off to sleep.

–
–

"Caf sucks," I complained to Ronard as we sat in the small kitchenette of the Firebird. The beverage did deliver caffeine to your system like it was supposed to, but it wasn't coffee, and I missed the drinks from home.

"Don't drink it then," The older man shrugged.

"It's better than not having anything," I sighed, though deep within, I was seriously considering trying to locate coffee or something similar. Hell, even though I didn't smoke outside of a cigar once or twice a year back home, I'd even like a zyn or some sort of nicotine. Anything that would remind me of home at this point.

But for now, I was stuck with caf, which was doing fine on helping me wake up if nothing else, so I sucked it up and finished the freeze-dried meal that breakfast consisted of.

Swallowing down the last of the meal with the mug of caf, I tossed the package for the ration into the trash and put the mug in what passed for the futuristic dishwashers here.

"You heading to the bridge when you're done?" I asked the other Ensign.

"No," He wiped off his mouth. "I've still got emitters to repair and test before we see combat again. The last thing the Firebird needs is to have a deflector fail at the wrong time."

The engineer was blunt, but I absolutely understood what he was saying. Outside of starfighters, the Consular was the lightest and most fragile ship the Republic fielded currently. But I'd heard rumors of the Corellians upscaling the design to a more heavily armored and armed ship instead of the refits we were using now. But until we were using one of those larger ships, we were a glass cannon without the extreme firepower.

"If we ever have the time, I'd like to learn what I can do to help," I offered.

"Stick to piloting," he grunted. "Last thing I need is for you to kriff something up."

"Alright," I raised my hands in surrender. "I just have an awful aversion to dying right now. So, I figured I'd offer."

Ronard sighed and glanced up from his food.

"Look, I appreciate the offer, and if we weren't in an active war, I'd probably be willing to teach you everything. But we don't have the time, and this isn't the place for me to show you basic repairs," the engineer sipped his caf. "So, stick to your job. If you pilot well enough, I should have less repairs to make. Improve where you can right now. Let me worry about keeping the Firebird in good repair."

"Fair enough," I shrugged and stepped out of the kitchenette, squeezing by Janine as she pulled her brown hair into a tight bun and tucked it under her cap.

We'd all had issues sleeping after our first day of combat. Well, everyone except for the Lieutenant and Ronard. But they were the veterans, they already knew what to expect. The rest of us were green, and still had a lot of learning to do before we were settled completely into our new roles.

So, with breakfast finished, I straightened my uniform and headed for the bridge. I'd be starting my shift early. But given we didn't know what would be waiting for us when we dropped out of hyperspace, I figured I'd rather be at my station where I had some control over things instead of stuck waiting to figure out if I'd live or die.

---

Lieutenant Teskit stepped onto the bridge of his ship, looking around and nodding in satisfaction as he noted the first shift was already waiting at their stations.

"Captain on deck!" Ensign Ronard called out, causing the entire crew minus the droids to stand to attention.

"At ease," Teskit ordered. "Ensign Ronard, do you have a report on the repairs?"

"We're as spaceworthy as we can be without a shipyard," Ronard replied. "Deflectors are holding steady at ninety-seven percent efficiency, everything else has been repaired."

"Excellent," Teksit returned to his usual stance. "Ensign Hull, how long until we have arrived."

"ETA is five minutes, sir," Hull replied.

"Mattix, warm up the weapons. Franz, be ready to receive transmissions from the Renown," He ordered. "When we drop out of hyperspace, I want us prepared for anything that may await us on the other side."

The crew went through their jobs and a few short moments later, the Firebird and other ships dropped out of hyperspace in formation. A planet and system I didn't know the name of was 'below' us.

But there weren't any Separatist ships in the system, so everything seemed calm.

"Receiving transmission from Captain Dara," Franz relayed.

"Lieutenant Teskit, your ship and the Pathfinder are to act as a scouting party," Captain Dara commanded. "You're free to do whatever is necessary should you encounter the Separatists."

"Understood, Captain," Teskit acknowledged. "I will begin coordinating with the Pathfinder immediately."

The Captain's hologram winked out of existence, leaving us in silence before Treskit began issuing orders.

"Captain, the Pathfinder is signalling that they'll follow our lead," Franz reported, her hands dancing across the communications suite.

"Very well," Teskit replied. "Signal for her to fall onto our left flank. Ensign Hull, begin preparations to take us into hyperspace."

"Aye sir, running calculations now," Hull began typing into his console.

"Petty Officer, once the Pathfinder has given her readiness, coordinate with Ensign Hull for the jump," Teskit commanded, taking the lull to try and remember who commanded the Pathfinder, only to draw a blank until he checked Franz's terminal to see that it was entirely manned by the Clones.

While the Lieutenant understood the use of the Clones as an emergency force, he was uncomfortable with the idea of fighting the war solely with clones as a fighting force. There were plenty of Republic Citizens that would be willing to volunteer to join the Navy and Army should they be given the opportunity. But HIGHCOM seemed content to utilize the Clones in place of a recruited navy and army. Despite the extreme costs of a clone army when compared to recruits.

"Hyperspace jump is prepared, captain," Hull reported. "Pathfinder is ready to jump as well."

"Initiate jump," Teskit replied. "Mattix, ensure our weapons are ready for when we drop out of hyperspace."

"Aye sir," the Chief Gunner officer replied as the stars turned into the streaks of light. "We'll be ready for them."

–
–

Shortly after jumping, the ships were yanked out of the hyperlane, the Firebird and Pathfinder narrowly avoiding an asteroid blocking the path.

"Captain, two Sabaoth destroyers and their starfighter escorts!" Ensign Hull reported.

"Hmm, the reports from Geonosis that the entire squadron was rendered combat incapable must be incorrect then," Teskit shook his head. "I recognize this tactic though, they utilized the Asteroid as a gravity generator. It's an old pirate trick, risky to pull off because you risk losing the cargo, but it does work. Mattix, ensure that the concussion missile launchers are loaded and prepped. We're outgunned here, but not by much, and Toth was the best of Sabaoth, and without him, they'll be lacking."

The Lieutenant stepped forward to the holotable as our sensors began to put together an image of the system."Call for the rest of the Renown's battlegroup to assist us, and then signal for the Pathfinder to create overlapping lanes of fire with us. After we've dealt with the starfighters, we'll have the opportunity to engage the destroyers themselves."

Teskit could see the hesitation in his crew for a moment and waited to see if they would follow his orders. A battle where they were among a fleet was one thing. A small skirmish between nearly equal forces? With the greater potential for their deaths, that was something different.

One heartbeat, then another, but the bridge crew moved through their paces. Whether it was training, fear, or both, the hesitation was gone, replaced with the quick action of a prepared crew.

"Ensign Hull, keep us out of range of the capital ship weapons of the destroyers," Teskit said, leaning over the holotable and watching as the twenty-four starfighters began to close in on the twin frigates. "Mattix, calculate the starfighters likely course and prepare to launch our concussion missiles."

"Yes, sir!" The two men responded, doing as instructed while the red dots moved closer on the console.

Now, it came down to the thing that made spacetime combat such an adrenaline rush and exhaustive experience. Space was massive, and even the 'short' distance between the frigates and the destroyers took time to advance through. So, even as the thrusters engaged, and the crew went through the calculations involving velocity and weapons tracking, the distance grew shorter. First five minutes passed, then ten, and at the twenty minute mark, the Sabaoth starfighters were within range.

The concussion missiles had been launched in advance and reached the initial fighters as they cleared the asteroid's horizon, the missiles detonating and damaging or destroying a fourth of the missiles before they reached extreme turbolaser range.

Mattix's face was set in stone, his hands dancing across his console as the turbolasers under his control began to engage the fighters, the point defence lasers taking care of anything that broke through and Hull's maneuvers keeping the Firebird from taking too much damage.

"Hull, port emergency thrusters on my mark," Teskit saw the proton torpedoes launch on the table and knew that they wouldn't have much time to evade.

"Thrusters are ready, captain," Hull replied, steady but filled with the adrenaline of combat.

Teskit's eyes tracked the torpedoes, knowing that the tracking wouldn't be fooled if they didn't do this at the correct time.

"Mark," Teskit ordered, the thrusters kicking in and sending the Firebird dancing to the right, the pack of torpedoes chasing them losing track and spinning off into the void of deep space.

"Enemy Starfighter strength is down to half," Franz took over the sensor feeds while coordinating with the other Republic vessel. "Pathfinder is reporting moderate damage, her concussion missile launchers are damaged."

"Have them pull back," Teskit instructed. "Hull, shift heading to two-three-five and spin down twelve degrees. We're going to pull the rest of the squadrons onto our tails. The Pathfinder needs to be ready to assist."

Hull and the droid copilots skillfully executed the command while Ronard shifted the power to the rear deflectors.

The twelve starfighters that remained closed in on the Firebird's tail as the Pathfinder opened up in a vicious crossfire that removed all but four fighters from the board.

After that, the four survivors peeled off and headed back for the destroyers. The first part of this skirmish was finished, now came the more difficult part.

 

[MarkWarrior]

---

Chapter 3

I gave a long exhale as I watched the last four starfighters leave the Firebird behind. With the initial danger now past, I could rest my OODA loop and get my head in order.

"Ensign Hull," The Lieutenant was now over my shoulder instead of leaning over the holotable. "Please bring us back into overlap with the Pathfinder and then plot a course for intercepting the destroyers."

"Aye sir," I replied, sending the course plotting task over to one of the droid copilots and hitting the control for the starboard maneuvering thrusters, spinning us around and heading back to our damaged ally.

"Damn," I winced as the other Consular filled the bridge viewports. There were a few hull breaches and the ship was leaking atmosphere in a few places. "She's in a sorry state."

"Pathfinder is reporting minor hull damage," Franz answered the question I hadn't voiced yet. "Her deflectors are at full strength though, and she's restored functionality to her port concussion missile launchers."

"Good," Lieutenant Teskit was looking at the Clone-crewed ship in front of us. "Have them send a full status readout in the next few moments before we move further into the system and eliminate the remainder of the Separatist forces."

"This is CT-1972," the voice of one of the Clones came through the communications suite. "We're combat capable and ready to bring the fight to the enemy."

I could almost sense the sigh of the Lieutenant as he breathed and then replied.

"We have not said that you are incapable of further combat," Teskit's arms found their natural place behind his back once more. "I need the full readouts of your functionality in order to plan properly."

"Understood, Sir," The clone replied. "Sending technical readout now."

I just sat in my chair, triple-checking the plotted course while waiting to hear what my orders would be.

"Sabaoth Destroyers are hardy ships, but they possess weaknesses that we can exploit if we move fast enough to take advantage. They are highly maneuverable vessels, yes. But they pay a heavy price for that ability," Teskit explained after a few moments, his datapad in his hand while he reviewed the damage that'd be done to the Pathfinder and the Firebird. "Their thrusters are where the shields are weak, and the capital ship turrets nearly overtax their generators when they are fired."

It only took me a minute to figure out what the Lieutenant's plan was.

We had a slight edge in speed on the destroyers, even if we couldn't match their firepower. And given the Pathfinder had restored functionality to some of their missile launchers, we now had an opportunity.

If I was right, then we were going to be playing bait, forcing the two destroyers to play to our tune while the clone operated ship took out their thrusters and main armament.

That's what I thought, at least. Until the Lieutenant continued.

"According to the initial scans that we took of the system and of the ships, it is obvious that while these two did escape from Geonosis, they are not as intact as they would like for us to believe," the terminals in front of each of us lit up with the scans. "As you can see here, one of the destroyers is missing the entirety of its capital ship turrets and is acting as a starfighter carrier. The other one has a weak thruster profile, but still retains all of its usual armament So, instead of baiting them out, we're going to be striking while they are still reeling from the loss of their starfighter escorts. Franze, send our plotted course to the Pathfinder and instruct them to use their own discretion for their engagement. Ensign Hull, give me a slingshot trajectory around the asteroid to enhance our speed. Ronard, reload our concussion missile tubes. Mattix, I want a firing solution ready for those missiles once we're in knife-fight range."

Tapping a single control, I forwarded the course I'd plotted to Franz with a short nod before running through the math on the slingshot that the Lieutenant ordered. I was a little concerned about the weapons and how fast we'd be moving through the enemy formation, and if I 'missed' where they were located, then we'd be moving too fast to turn around and assist the Pathfinder. So, I had to get this right the first time.

Running through the math in my head, I plotted out the most likely course for the enemy ships and then ran the slingshot through the duo. The droids ran simulations until we found one with a high chance of success and I forwarded it to the Lieutenant for approval.

"CT-1972, begin combat run," Teskit had signaled for Franz to open the channel. "We're initiating ours as well," He gave me a sharp nod.

"Executing a slingshot maneuver, aye, sir!" I sent a burst of fuel through the thrusters and felt the rumble as our engines began to accelerate around the asteroid.

The droids handled the maneuvering thrusters, keeping us in a tightly controlled orbit as we picked up extra speed from the gravity generated, (every little bit counted). And then we were on the other side and our sensors gave us the full picture of the system.

"So that's how they towed it into place," Ronard muttered as his console fed him data behind me. "Captain, we're going to need to take out those tugs as well."

"One problem at a time, ensign," Teskit replied. "We have no idea if those crews were pressed into service, or if they are manned by droids. Mattix, I'm sending you an alternate firing solution for the concussion missiles. Ensure that it is followed," Teskit tapped a control on his datapad. "When we are in range, focus fire on the enemy capital ship turrets, we can handle some hits from their secondary armaments, but one or two shots from those turrets will tear us to pieces."

I felt my jaw clench as we neared the effective range of said turrets, acting against the instincts that told me to alter trajectory in order to evade the green lances that chased the Firebird.

As we got closer, the fire became more accurate, less spotty when the predictive algorithms and people in charge of targeting caught onto our plan. But by then, it was too late.

We were in range for a handful of seconds, our turbolasers spitting fire, and the missiles exiting their tubes and then we were through the gauntlet. Our deflectors were down, and there were minor hull breaches, but we were alive.

"Ensign Hull, initiate retrograde burn now, and rotate so our belly is facing the enemy. We have more armor there at the moment and I'd rather take the hits where we can afford it."

I immediately began using the retro thrusters and maneuvering thrusters to arrest our speed slightly and spin us around. The long arc wasn't what I'd have liked, but even with how loosely we followed the laws of physics sometimes, we had to obey some of them. So, turning around, we saw the damage we and the Pathfinder had done on our pass.

The concussion missiles had been aimed at the faster destroyer's main engines. Most of them simply broke on the shields, but the others damaged the thrusters and caused them to sputter and burn out.

The Pathfinder had taken less hits than us. But one of them appeared to have hit a power generator, because the other Consular was dead in space, the only sign of life being the emergency transponder that activated once the backup power had triggered. As far as the destroyer with firepower remaining, after the initial hits and damage, it turned tail and began running, the hyperdrive kicking in once it'd made it past the asteroid's slight gravity.

In the distant viewport, the ship winked out of existence as it and the civilian tugs leaped to hyperspace, leaving us behind in the mix of debris and broken vessels.

---

"Captain, the crippled destroyer is surrendering," Petty Officer Franz reported.

Lieutenant Teskit allowed himself an internal sigh of relief at that report. He'd been prepared to continue the battle, but he would rather his ship and crew be alive than sacrifice themselves against a small force such as this.

"Tell them we accept their surrender," Teskit instructed, keeping his emotions locked down. "And instruct them to power down weapons."

"Sending orders over, aye sir!" Franze replied, her fingers typing up the message and sending it over to the crippled destroyer.

"Ensign Hull, bring us around to the Pathfinder," The Lieutenant tapped the intercom button and waited for it to connect. "Ronard, damage report."

"Sir, we've got hull breaches in sectors Besh one through three, fires in Cresh four, and our inertial dampeners are operating at forty percent strength," Ronard reported. "I've blocked all access to the exposed sections and vented the atmosphere in Cresh four. Deflectors seem to be slowly charging back up to the strength they were prior to combat."

"Very well," Teskit walked over to the holotable again. "Franz, give me the ship's intercom," She touched the button and he nodded in thanks. "All hands, prepare for search and rescue operations. Lieutenant Cora, prepare your boarding team and take a shuttle to the Separatist vessel. I don't want them deciding to renege on their surrender."

The security team leader and her handful of navy troopers boarded the small shuttle and docked with the Sabaoth destroyer, a communication coming in shortly from them that the ship was under their control.

While the security team did their job, the rest of the ship's crew began working on rescuing the Clones immediately. Ensign Hull docked with the Pathfinder and forwarded scans taken of the space around to the rescue teams. Said rescue teams tracked escape pods from the damaged Republic vessel and teams got to work. The handful of docking bays were vented while teams in vacuum rated suits and tethers attached magnetic cables and winched them into the said bays.

Then, as they finished up with those efforts and towed the Pathfinder near the destroyer, a handful of ships arrived out of hyperspace. The wedge-shapes and pain scheme telling Teskit exactly who it was that had arrived.

"Franz, open a direct channel with the lead Ship," Teskit grinned internally, after all, it wasn't often that two veterans of the Stark-Hyperspace Wars were able to meet.

"Lieutenant Teskit," The hologram of Jedi-General Plo Koon gave a humble nod. "I do not believe I have had the pleasure of speaking to you in many years."

"It has been over a decade, General," Teskit replied. "I regret that the circumstances, but am grateful to see an allied force."

"Indeed," The Jedi glanced away before bringing his attention back to the conversation. "I have dispatched engineering teams to assist in repairing what we can. We will also take possession of the prisoners aboard the enemy ship."

"Very well, General," Teskit inclined his head. "We will also require assistance with clearing the blockage of the Hyperlane. I have yet to receive any further instructions from the the Renown and her captain since beginning this skirmish."

"I will leave behind several Corvettes to tend to this task. Unfortunately, my main force is needed elsewhere." With that, the conversation wound down, and the majority of the Jedi-General's fleet vanished into hyperspace as soon as they'd vaporized most of the asteroid with their turbolaser batteries, leaving a handful of CR-90 Corvettes behind to assist with the prisoners and repairs.

"Captain, requesting permission to enter the bridge," A clone asked, standing on the outside of the threshold.

"Permission granted," Teskit glanced up from the holotable where he was coordinating the last of the search and rescue efforts.

"CT-1972 reporting," the clone saluted.

"At ease," Teskit replied. "Do you require something?"

"Sir, my men and I are ready to be put back to work," the clone replied.

"Your ship is currently undergoing emergency repairs," the Lieutenant replied. "And we've finally received a transmission from FLEETCOM. After we're able to move again, we're to report to the Core."

"May I ask why, sir?" 72 asked.

"Our ships were emergency refits intended for being rushed to the battlefield," Teskit explained. "The modular nature of the Consular and Corellian corvettes made this a cheap and fast option. We're to be repaired, given slightly better refits, and attached to a smaller battlegroup for escorting supply convoys to the front lines."

"But our orders-"
"Orders change," Teskit stood up straight instead of leaning over the holotable. "The liberation of Christophsis and other besieged worlds will not be accomplished overnight. There is plenty for us to do. Take advantage of the rest while you can," Teskit pitched his voice to the entire bridge instead of just the clone. "There will be times when that is a luxury we cannot afford."

 

[Yacov]

"Good," Lieutenant Teskit was looking at the Clone-crewed ship in front of us. "Have them send a full status readout in the next few moments before we move further into the system and eliminate the remainder of the Separatist forces."

"This is CT-1972," the voice of one of the Clones came through the communications suite. "We're combat capable and ready to bring the fight to the enemy."

I could almost sense the sigh of the Lieutenant as he breathed and then replied.

"We have not said that you are incapable of further combat," Teskit's arms found their natural place behind his back once more. "I need the full readouts of your functionality in order to plan properly."

"Understood, Sir," The clone replied. "Sending technical readout now."

Click to shrink...

Ah early Clones. They still are having trouble deviating from set procedures. Especially when interacting with "mutts" instead of Clones.

"CT-1972 reporting," the clone saluted.

"At ease," Teskit replied. "Do you require something?"

"Sir, my men and I are ready to be put back to work," the clone replied.

Click to shrink...

Not really beating those Meat Droid allegations CT-1972. Then again long periods of waiting without assigned duties is not something they are used to. Probably haven't had a break this long in their entire lives.

 

[MarkWarrior]

Ah early Clones. They still are having trouble deviating from set procedures. Especially when interacting with "mutts" instead of Clones.

Not really beating those Meat Droid allegations CT-1972. Then again long periods of waiting without assigned duties is not something they are used to. Probably haven't had a break this long in their entire lives.

Click to shrink...

There's a reason the clones don't have names yet…

 

[Frater Astrotechnicus]

Look at that clone
He's still a shiny
Quick give him a name
They have less chance of dying once named