"Admiral," Sara began. "Your household troops are here."
"They've arrived, then." I said, briefly looking up from the reports I was reviewing. "Excellent, I'll meet with them shortly. I'll just need to finish these."
"I'll inform Captain Calanyon then." Sara said with a nod.
"Make it so, lieutenant." I said.
"Yes, admiral." Sara before saluting and leaving my office.
As it was, it took several more minutes before I could leave to meet with the newly-arrived Targaryen Household Guard. The report from Ambassador Lee was especially pressing, over Earth's political future. Originally, United Earth was planned to be retained as the planetary government of Humanity's homeworld in this galaxy, but with the exposure of the Section 31 – or rather, the Majestic Twelve – conspiracy to subjugate not just Humanity but every spacefaring race under their quasi-utopian totalitarian nightmare vision of the future, those plans had been thrown out.
Both the UNAS and the provisional government of what was calling itself the European Federation had made it clear they would not simply refuse to join a restored United Earth, but outright wage war against it. Likewise for the coalition of emerging northern Chinese warlords under the leadership of the self-proclaimed Generalissimo Tai Yuan.
Speaking of which, the ISB had also delivered its own report on Tai Yuan, on how the man might try and claim the Mandate of Heaven, and with it, proclaim himself the first Emperor of China in over four hundred years.
"That can work to our advantage," I mused. "But we have to work at it with a delicate hand, and avoid looking reactionary. No…much like with the Federation and its shadow leaders in the Majestic Twelve, it's best to let our enemies destroy themselves on their own."
All that said, though, with United Earth of no further use to the Empire beyond the psychological blow of its unconditional surrender, to say nothing of the backlash after its exposure as nothing more than a front for an conspiracy of Terran ideologues and their lackeys, entire plans drawn up by the Empire to cement its grip in the New Territories after the war was over and won needed to be gone over.
"Well," I thought while heading out to meet with my family's guards. "No one said this would be easy. Besides, this might even turn out to be better, with proper management of succeeding events as they develop."
Leaving my office, Sara saluted me outside before falling into step beside me, following in my wake towards the lift. From there, it took a few minutes to reach one of the Courageous' lower decks, and a couple more minutes to reach the assigned troop areas.
The Targaryen Household Guards stood to attention at my arrival, over a hundred men and women dressed in matching blue jackets and trousers saluting with white-gloved hands. They also wore white hats, those of the officers peaked, while the enlisted and noncoms wore side caps instead.
"At ease." I said, the guardsmen standing down to parade rest. "Soldiers of House Targaryen, I thank you for the effort of coming this far, all the way from our galaxy to this galaxy, the furthest frontier of our great and glorious Galactic Empire. However, now I would ask even greater sacrifices from you, so great that I cannot deny you the truth."
I paused, slowly turning my head to meet the guardsmen's – my people's – eyes. Like me, they were all Valyrian, the product of millennia of Arkanian gene-crafting, with platinum-blonde hair and violet irises. They all met my gaze stoically, social and cultural inertia born of millennia reinforcing loyalty and duty drilled by training and years if not decades of service to my family.
"I suppose you're asking, why you?" I continued. "Why send for you all the way across the universe, when I could just have the Imperial Armed Forces handle. I do have an entire expeditionary force under my command, after all. So, why? And the answer is that this mission is too dangerous to involve the Imperial Armed Forces. Failure would, at best, tarnish if not outright destabilize the entire Galactic Empire. As such, I myself will take personal responsibility for this mission, with my family's honor and future on the line, and personally submit its outcome before His Excellency the Emperor whether in victory or defeat."
I paused and nodded. "That is why you are here," I continued. "And that is why I will not command you to go on this mission, but ask you instead. And even then, I will ask that you submit to mind-wipe after the mission is completely. Only volunteers will continue going forward, with any who refuse being allowed to return home with no stigma or mark against them going on record. Having said that, I now ask any of you who find my request on your loyalty and duty to be too much, to step forward."
No one stepped forward.
If anything, the guardsmen just straightened further and looked expectantly at me.
"There will be no going back after this." I warned. "Is that clear?"
"Permission to speak freely, ma'am?" Captain Vamyx Calanyon asked.
"Granted." I said.
"I say it'll be a good day to die." He said with a smile, and despite myself, I smiled back.
"Outstanding, captain!" I said. "Very well then…saddle up!"
Over a hundred heels clicked together in a uniform motion, along with arms swiping up in salute. "HAIL, THE EMPIRE!" the guardsmen chorused. "HAIL, TARGARYEN!"
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Elsewhere in the galaxy, the Fifth and Thirteenth Battlegroups of the Imperial Expeditionary Force were once again leading the charge in the name of the Galactic Empire.
The Thirteenth Battlegroup, in particular, had the honor of firing the first shots of the Siege of Kharzh'ulla. With forward shields at double power, Vice Admiral Natasi Daala led her fleet into the range of the planetary defenses, phaser lances and charged particle cannon hammering them from the planet's orbital.
But even as smaller vessels began to burn in space, the Imperial Fleet returned fire, turbolaser beams lancing through space. They splattered against the orbital ring's shields, distributed power sources and generator systems helping them hold against the Imperial onslaught. In response, the Imperial Fleet concentrated its fire, entire flotillas literally pounding down the shields of entire defensive sections along the orbital ring, allowing turbolasers to destroy not just the gun emplacements, launch bays, and naval docks built onto the ring, but also the adjacent void habitats.
Worse, the ring itself began to take damage, especially as fusion reactors went critical and exploded in flowers of nuclear fire. Fortunately, civilians had already been evacuated from the ring, but that didn't change the fact that if the ring collapsed, entire sections could fall to devastate the surface below. That, and it was the main line of defense for the entire planet, with which Starfleet could finally halt the Imperial advance, and hopefully rallying the local civilizations, begin pushing them back.
That hope was now being put to the test, with Starfleet's Fourth Fleet under Admiral Michael Fraser scrambling to intercept the Thirteenth Battlegroup. The plan was to charge in, making it appear as though trying to get in close and throw the battlefield into chaos, thus negating the Empire's advantages and allowing Starfleet to fight on even terms.
The Empire wasn't stupid, though, or rather Daala wasn't. She immediately pulled back, not enough to actually withdraw from the battlefield, but enough to contract her line of battle to keep Starfleet from achieving their tactical goal.
Just as planned.
"Damnation!" Daala spat on the Terror's bridge. "Starfleet's forced us into a choice. We either engage at long range, and give their faster vessels greater freedom of movement to evade our artillery fire, or close in but risk them throwing the battlefield in chaos."
"What do we do, admiral?" her adjutant asked.
Daala didn't answer at once, instead lifting a gloved hand to rub over her chin in thought. Her first instinct was to simply charge in, and despite giving the enemy what they wanted, use the Imperial Fleet's superior firepower and endurance to hammer them up close, battle of attrition be damned.
But, she was a fleet commander now, and needed to think bigger. See the wider picture as it were, and minimize losses for maximum gain.
Soldiers dying in battle was inevitable, and indeed, was both expected and normal.
No commander could succeed without facing and accepting that truth.
What mattered was that soldiers died for something…
…that, and killing more of the enemy than they killed of your forces.
"…the enemy thinks they're being clever." Daala finally said. "Signal the fleet: advance, double power to forward shields. Concentrate your fire and destroy the enemy fleet."
"Yes, admiral." Her adjutant said before relaying Daala's orders.
The Thirteenth Battlegroup adjusted its formation, reinforcing its forward shields before pressing onward, turbolasers lashing out. Again, the Fourth Fleet sallied forward in response, Daala nodding in approval. "Here they come…" she said. "…fall back, now!"
"Admiral…?" her adjutant asked in confusion.
"Do it!" Daala barked, and the man all but jumped to relay her orders.
The Thirteenth Battlegroup fell back, and a few minutes later, so did the Fourth Fleet. "Good…very good…" Daala said, emerald eyes staring intently at the tactical display. "…all ships, advance."
Once again, the Thirteenth Battlegroup advanced, and the Fourth Fleet responded in turn. Then the Thirteenth Battlegroup fell back, and the Fourth Fleet did likewise. A pattern that repeated itself for over an hour, both sides taking casualties in the process, while maintaining fleet integrity regardless.
"Status of the Fifth Battlegroup behind us?" Daala asked.
"Admiral Tye in holding position." Her adjutant replied.
"And the enemy's other fleets are likewise doing so to our flanks and over the other sections of the ring." Daala mused aloud. "Yes…after the Battle of Earth, they're worried that we're just the vanguard…no, more than that, bait, to draw them in for the main fleet as it jumps out of hyperspace. They're being cautious. Let's see how well they can keep it up: all ships, advance."
"Yes, admiral." Her adjutant said while relaying orders, and again, the Thirteenth Battlegroup pressed forward. The Fourth Fleet moved to intercept, and Daala clenched her fist.
"All ships," she barked. "Maximum battle speed!"
In a surprising show of sudden aggression, the Thirteenth Battlegroup launched a full attack, catching the Fourth Fleet by surprise, used as it was to Daala's cautious maneuvers over the past hour. The Fourth Fleet's entire advance guard was wiped out, and the central formation decimated with the fleet's command element coming under fire.
Starfleet responded quickly, dispatching the Eighth and Ninth Fleets to reinforce the Fourth Fleet. The two fresh fleets moved to flank the Thirteenth Battlegroup, but attempts at encirclement were foiled thanks to the Fifth Battlegroup, which opened fire at long range.
Daala nodded as she looked at the tactical display, bracing herself at the rails as photon torpedoes shook her ship from a direct hit. "We've done enough for now." She ordered. "Fall back, but have our guns lay down a curtain of fire as we withdraw."
The Thirteenth Battlegroup fell back as ordered, laying down a murderous curtain of fire against any would-be pursuit, in addition to the cover fire from the Fifth Battlegroup. By the time the firing stopped, the Thirteenth Battlegroup had suffered five per cent losses, mostly smaller vessels, although that number would rise to twenty-five per cent if one included not just destroyed vessels, but damaged ones as well. In contrast, Starfleet's Fourth Fleet had suffered forty per cent losses, while the Eighth and Ninth Fleets had suffered two and three per cent losses, respectively.
Not a bad rate of exchange, all things considered.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
"We'll have to be more careful going forward." Daala remarked. "The Federation won't fall for such a ploy next time."
"Agreed." Tye concurred via holo-call from his flagship, the Iron Duke. "But that doesn't mean we can't continue to use aggressive, equally bold and subtle tactics in the siege as it develops. At least, until the main fleet arrives."
"You have something in mind then." Daala said. It wasn't a question.
"I do." Tye said with a nod before forwarding his tactical plan, Daala looking it over for a couple of minutes.
"Interesting…" she finally said. "…simple and straightforward, but with a degree of subtlety to it."
"That is the idea." Tye said with another nod. "Besides, simple plans are less likely to kriff up on the battlefield, and play better with our strengths than with that of Starfleet."
"True." Daala admitted. "Very well, I'll expedite field repairs, my fleet should be ready to move within the next thirty-six hours."
"Understood." Tye said. "As for the main fleet, they should be arriving within the next five days. There's been a…minor delay."
"Oh?"
"Operation Staple has been moved up, apparently."
That had Daala's eyes widening. Then she blinked, and narrowed her eyes as she quickly went through the possible causes behind what was originally supposed to be something for after the Federation had been brought to heel.
"Section 31…?" she asked.
"Possibly," Tye replied. "The clearances for the operational details have all been ranked-up. All I know is that something they found on Earth shook up expeditionary command, so much so that the admiral brought in her own family's household troops."
"What?" Daala incredulously asked
"Yes," Tye said grimly. "Apparently, whether in success or defeat, Admiral Targaryen plans on taking personal responsibility for…one or another, detail of Operation Staple. If there's to be any blowback either way, she wants the Empire to stay as clear of it as possible, with only House Targaryen to potentially get dragged down."
"That…or to monopolize the rewards." Daala pointed out.
"Possibly…" Tye conceded. "…still, based on our experiences in this campaign, if we're to get dragged into the games of the nobility, then I'd say better House Targaryen than House Elegin or, gods forbid, Houses Organa or Antilles, among others."
"Or House Vandron, for that matter." Daala sourly said, considering it was Lord Crueya Vandron's misogynist vision of Human High Culture that had all but torpedoed her career right from the start. If not for the patronage of, at first, Grand Moff Tarkin, and then Admiral Targaryen, she'd probably be stuck pushing papers at a dead end post somewhere.
That, or drummed out of the military entirely.
Tye gave a cough and then a strained smile. "In any case," he said. "We should focus on the task at hand."
"This is true." Daala conceded, her fellow admiral nodding gratefully at the change in topic.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Twenty-five hours later, and the Imperial vanguard resumed its attack on Kharzh'ulla.
This time, the Fifth Battlegroup took the lead, charging forward at maximum battle speed, with forward shields at double power. At the same time, gun batteries and launch tubes fired again and again, hammering the orbital ring and the defending Starfleet forces, before making a sharp turn to port just before entering close range, and then coming back, heading away from the planet.
Normally, this would be suicide, exposing as it would the fleet's rear where it could barely shoot back. But the Thirteenth Battlegroup was right behind the Fifth Battlegroup, speeding up as the preceding fleet slowed to turn, and hammering the defenders before they could attack the withdrawing fleet in the rear.
Then once again, the Thirteenth Battlegroup turned to port just before reaching close range, and delivering full broadsides, came about to disengage, the Fifth Battlegroup just behind them for another attack. Vice Admiral Tyron-Hu Tye called this the 'revolving door', and it was devastating.
Starfleet suffered atrocious losses, with the Eighth Fleet suffering over thirty per cent losses in barely an hour. However, Fleet Admiral Ross saw an opportunity there, and committed his command fleet along with the Fourth and Ninth Fleets just as the Thirteenth Battlegroup closed in. Having calculated the relative speed and positioning of the Imperial fleets, Starfleet moved to englobe the Thirteenth Battlegroup, with the goal of destroying it and effectively annihilating the Imperial vanguard.
That it was no secret – if not actually common knowledge – that the Thirteenth Battlegroup's commander had previously commanded the Fast Attack Force which had destroyed San Francisco during the Battle of Earth added a touch of bloodlust to the Starfleet officers and crew, a desire for vengeance that gave them the strength to (figuratively) move mountains.
But if they thought Daala was easy prey, they were dead wrong.
Ignoring her adjutant, an enraged Daala all but literally punched all Imperial channels open on the control panel. "All squadron and flotilla commanders!" she roared. "This is Admiral Daala! We're surrounded, but we're not beaten yet! Engage at will! Scramble all attack craft! Destroy each and every enemy ship in range!"
The Thirteenth Battlegroup deliberately dissolved its formation, individual flotillas and squadrons launching a furious assault and closing to point-blank range. The fleet's smaller vessels suffered horrendous losses, but they gave as good as they got, while the Star Destroyers took a beating even as they left burning hulks around and in their wake.
Then the Fifth Battlegroup was closing, turbolasers blazing as they tried to cover the Thirteenth Battlegroup. "Admiral…!" Daala's adjutant shouted. "We must withdraw!"
"Not yet!" Daala roared. "Advance! The enemy flagship is right in front of us!"
"But admiral…!"
"Shut up!" Daala shouted the man down. "Fight!"
Terror and five other Venator and Victory Class Star Destroyers charged forward, turbolasers blazing as fires burned from various hull breaches. Only a handful of CR-90s and Dreadnoughts still screened them, but as the smaller vessels suffered repeated hits and began to slow and burn, the Star Destroyers finally managed to close their figurative jaws around their prey.
"FIRE!" Daala roared, and volleys of turbolaser fire and concussion missiles hammered at the Cerberus and its detached vessels. Shields failed, then the Imperial artillery fire ripped through hull plating, space blazing bright with the blinding flare of a breached warp core less than a minute later. "All ships to port! Destroying everything in our way!"
The Star Destroyers banked hard, turbolasers continuing to fire, but Starfleet was in disarray, the death of Fleet Admiral Ross in battle shattering the chain of command and dousing Starfleet's battle fury with the cold waters of uncertainty and dismay. Twenty minutes later, and the Thirteenth Battlegroup was clear, having lost just over half its forces, but had managed annihilate the Starfleet Command Fleet while inflicting heavy losses on the Fourth, Eighth, and Ninth Fleets.
"Did we win?" Daala simply asked Tye on holo-call.
The other admiral pointedly looked at the tactical display, with Starfleet milling about the orbital ring in disarray. "Yes." He said. "This battle at least."
"Good." Daala said, sighing and slumping as the high of battle waned, and the pressure and loss took their toll. "It wasn't…it wasn't for nothing."
"No," Tye agreed. "It wasn't for nothing."
"That's…good…very good…"
