The Rebel Faction

It was at that moment that the second Imperial element dropped out of hyperspace directly behind the Coalition warships. From directly behind the Pride of Iridonia's engines, though still out of range, Captain William Ithica smiled from the bridge of the Eternal Advanced Star Destroyer Reign of Fire. Captain Finnicum had done his work perfectly. The Coalition had taken the bait.

Time to do work now, though. "Ensign, signal Captain Finnicum that we've arrived. All guns, target that Star Destroyer. Let's get 'er close. Accellerate to flank speed." He switched to the intercom. "All ships, form up on me. Hex formation, vertical." The hex formation, with three ships forming the main line, two ships above, and two below, the Imperials would be able to bring maximum fire down on a single point in the enemy formation. It had the additional advantage of being either open or closed. When closed, the ships had a reduced firepower but able to share shield power. When open, they had more firepower. With firepower necessary now, the formation was open.

Ithica continued issuing orders. "All fighters, launch. Begin attack runs on those Birds of Prey. Bomber Squadron B, Interceptor Red, target that Carrier. Keep 'em busy. All other ships, raise shields, forward at maximum. Target the enemy Star Destroyer. Charge disruptors."

On the other side of the Coalition formation, Captain Josef Finnicum received the communique that the second formation had arrived, and it lightenend his spirits. He had been having a difficult time, as the Coalition formation had decided to use their fighters as cover. With several members of the SS still out there, as well as Finnnicum's own brother, Josef was not willing to fire through the formation. It had been in the fighters' hands to defend themselves from the Swarm fighters and the Coalition turbolasers.

In one of those fighters, Commander Jamison Finnicum fought for his life. It had been easy when the stupid droids were all he was up against. His six laser cannons ripped through them like a vibroknife through flimsy. He'd seen fighter after fighter blow apart under the punishing red energy from his cannons. But when the Imperial warships opened up, he knew he was in trouble.

"Fighters, break formation!" he cried into the comm, knowing that the turbolasers were a much greater threat than the Swarms. "Remain in wingman pairs, and watch each others' backs." He quickly looped his fighter, his wingman staying right on his tail. They cut through another Swarm formation, a turbolaser bolt barely missing them as it headed on to strike the Daemon's Fury. The Swarm fighters were disintegrating faster than the Imperials, though. It wasn't long before there weren't enough of the agile, droid-piloted craft to be a threat. The Schutzstaffel fighters looped away and reformed with the SS bombers, now flying escort as they headed for the nearest Bird of Prey.

On the Daemon's Fury, Captain Finnicum saw the Imperial fighters slide out of the way. The shields hadn't taken too much punishment as most of the enemy's turbolaser blasts had been caught in the starfighter battle. But more and more came through as the fighters moved on. Now it was time to close the pincers. "All ships, accelerate to flank speed. Choose your targets. Charge the disruptors." This was going to be fun.

"Keep pulling back!" captain Harrison barked, directing his small command of warships away from the onrush of enemy fighters. "If they swarm over us, we're finished! There's too many bombers for our shields to handle."

"Sir," a sensors officer chirped, pointing frantically at his display. "The carrier can't keep up. The enemy fighters are overwhelming them."

"Leave them!" said Harrison. He gave it a moments' thought, before sighing and crossing over to the communications officer. "Okay, scratch that. Patch me in with the Carrier's captain."

The holoprojector hummed to life, showing the shaken captain of the Carrier gripping his command chair as though his life depended on it. George set his features grimly as he faced the fellow officer. "Captain," he said. "We can't cover your retreat. Without your swarm fighter wings, you're sitting ducks out there. I'm giving you the command now to abandon ship."

Startled, the Swarm carrier captain jumped up. "Abandon ship? But sir, we can-"

"Stow it," George growled. "You haven't got the time or the rank to change my mind. Set your ship for self destruct and position it between the enemy fighters and the rest of the fleet, then launch escape pods to the planet. I'll comm the troops on the surface to watch your descent and pick your men up as soon as possible."

The other captain nodded, the stern stuff that composed most Onyxian officers setting in and giving him strength. "As you command, captain Harrison." The communication ended, and George was left to consider if he'd made the right choice.

Not for very long, though. "Okay! That should buy us some time - All remaining vessels will plot a new heading. We're heading for orbit."

"Orbit?" The navigational officer seemed puzzled. "Why, sir?"

"We need to maintain distance, that's why," snapped George. "We can gravity-slingshot our way away from the Imperial fleet and continue to harrass them from a distance, instead of getting shot to bits by getting pinned between them and the planet. Now get us moving!"

The Pride and the two Birds of Prey blasted out of the swirl of fighters that had begun to engulf them, skimming the planet's orbital gravity and thus hurtling at a much greater velocity around the planet. The tactic would get them out of the Empire's reach much faster than simply flying straight away would have, and it was something the enemy couldn't do until they too reached orbit.

In the meantime, the Carrier's shields dropped - immediately drawing the attention of the hungry horde of starfighters descending on all sides. The remaining swarm fighters rallied around the carrier, using their bodies as mechanical shields as escape pods jettisoned in all directions and hurtled towards the planet.

The Imperial pilots were wise enough to recognize what was going on. The rats always did abandon a sinking ship, after all, so even as the last escape pod shot towards the surface the Empire was already retreating back to a safe distance. All at once, explosions seemed to emanate from somewhere in the ship's reactor core. The chain reaction grew and grew, until the entire vessel was destroyed. What time it had bought the rest of the fleet none could say, but the Empire's pursuit had been delayed.

And then the timer hit zero, and the Imperial flotilla jumped into hyperspace. Men hurried about as they prepared for the pincer maneuver to catch the Coalition above the planet and smash them between the hammer and the anvil.

32...33...34, Kach counted in his head.

After a precisely thirty-five second long micro jump, the shiny new Tempest Command Cruiser Torrent entered orbit above Genaris, flanked by the dozen ships in her escorting squadron.

And there ahead sat the enemy, rapidly swinging around the planet at a velocity that would have required some sort of boost for the ships, probably from gravity.

"This wasn't in the plans," Kach grumbled to himself. But they would make do. "Launch fighters, then bring up the shields. Charge the weapons, fire as they are ready. Target the Birds of Prey first. Electromagnetic accelerators are to switch to bombardment projectiles, I repeat bombardment projectiles. Fire them on the Star Destroyer."

Absently, as his men rushed to carry out the orders and open fire, he realized that George was still stationed in the same ship he'd had over Bandomeer, the Pride of Iradona. This wasn't too great of a surprise--A captain would often spend a decade on the same ship before getting promoted, or transfered to another one.

He smiled at his thoughts, the look on his face confusing a nearby lieutenant.

This error was one that would be corrected.

[font=Palatino Linotype]Jarred was, for what he could safely count as the tenth distinct time today, not happy with the current state of affairs. His squadrons had already been forced to fall back in order to avoid a toasting from the enemy carrier, even though he was entirely willing to fly through the damned mess to pursue the Coalition dogs. Perhaps, he figured to himself as he begrudgingly complied with the orders given to him, that was what made him so different...that he was prepared to defy orders in order to do what he had to do.[/font]

[font=Palatino Linotype]Perhaps that was also why the SS medical staff considered him too insane for even so little as garbage scow duty.[/font]

[font=Palatino Linotype]It was also what made him so good at his work...the fact that he was completely unwilling to experience fear. It existed, sure, but as long as it was ignored, it could exist without being of any effect. As long as it was controlled, it could hold effect without detriment. It was when fear conquered that it became dangerous...by ignoring it, Jarred had ensured that he would remain unconquered. [/font][font=Palatino Linotype]And Medical hated him for it.[/font]

[font=Palatino Linotype]As he drove his fighter through what remained of the enemy carrier and turned to face the retreating enemy fleet, his scanners caught sight of their energy trails cutting through the planet's gravity. It was an impressive stunt...but nothing compared to the speed of the Imperial attack squads, which could easily surge over that of the enemy fleet. That was all they had to do, as well...catch up with the enemy flagship, and bomb it so bad that it had to pray for the ability to limp home.[/font]

[font=Palatino Linotype]"Bombers," he began on the fighter group comm-channel, "prepare for attack runs. Split into groups of sixteen on each member of the retreating enemy fleet, and prepare everything you have. Fighters, escort formation three." The result was a dangerous, damnable formation of 6 Schutzstaffel squadrons, 2 squadrons of Hurrikanes, and four units of Storm bombers, all bearing down as hard as they could on three retreating Coalition ships.[/font]

[font=Palatino Linotype]For the briefest of moments, the bombers were completely undefended as they locked onto their targets, firing every last proton torpedo they had at both Birds of Prey, and the Pride of Iridonia. The fighters moved back into cover formation almost as soon as the last torpedo was away, with the TIE Schutzstaffels falling in right at the head of the pack. As the Coalition fleet tried valiantly to escape intact, 768 torpedoes flew right behind them, gaining steadily.[/font]

"Sir!" exclaimed a shocked lieutenant. "Multiple contacts closing fast... hundreds of enemy ordnance inbound, target locks confirmed!"

Harrison frowned. So they weren't away yet. "Time to impact?"

"...Thirty seconds, sir!" reported the lieutenant, keeping panic in check. "All heading straight for us."

The Pride couldn't hope to repel fire of that magnitude. At the very least their engines would be crippled, making them easy prey for the Imperials - unless he could find a way out of the situation. "Angle deflectors towards the missiles and prepare a course change. Prepare to break orbit and move sharply spaceward at my signal."

Harrison settled into his command chair, watching the approaching lights of the missiles close with his ship on the holographic display. Already his accompanying vessels were pulling away, fearful that the Pride might explode and take them with it. He didn't begrudge them the move, it was a great risk he was taking. "Hold..."

The command crew held its' breath as the swarm of deadly red lights closed on the sluggish green triangle, such basic imagery standing in for the horde of missiles and torpedoes that would blow asunder the kilometer-long craft. "Wait for it... now!" Harrison bellowed, causing them to lurch as the artifical gravity compensated.

The Pride of Iridonia swung suddenly upwards, breaking orbit with a great heave of effort. The missiles that followed in its' wake tried to steer upwards, but found the gravitational pull of orbit too strong, streaking by en-masse by the barest of margins. They tilted, struggling to turn to their intended prey, but it was too late - one by one, the errant ordnance exploded, letting the Pride glide through a fading ball of fire.

"Clear of the blast," reported a visibly relieved lieutenant. "At your command, sir."

Harrison got up from his chair and looked out into space. To one side, the Imperial fleet gathered like dark storm clouds over the little Onyxian outpost. To the other lay open space and freedom.

"We have no choice," the commander growled, stamping out any hint of regret or hesitation. "All remaining ships are to prepare for hyperspace. We'll regroup in deep space and from there decide on our next course of action." If there was still a Commonwealth to defend by then, he would fight the good fight. If there was not, then it would be on to Sinsang and the rest of the Coalition.

Regardless of the outcome, however, Harrison knew that he had lost that day. "The field is yours..." he muttered under his breath. "This time. But next time?" Settling back into his seat, Harrison glanced over at his lieutenant. "Get us out of here."

The surviving Onyxian ships sped away from Generis until they were mere silvery specks. These too at last vanished as they jumped to hyperspace, taking with them the last escapees of the battle of Generis.