Dagger was the first to punch through the defensive screens. It raked the Narganz’s forward command structure with rapid bursts of intense auto-turret fire. While no internal hits were scored, systems and automation functions went down. The massive destroyer was now blind as well as immobile. But the turret gunners of the capital ship continued to fight on in a desperate attempt to save their lives.
The three state-of-the-art Raptor wings swept in over the burning destroyer. They broke off into teams and decimated the MCR fighter groups that had been launched over the ancient super-ore carrier-turned-freighter Triumphant. Most of the old fighters, being turn-and-burn rocket sleds, fared badly against the agile Republic interceptors. In moments the gunners were free to target the incoming MCR smaller ships as the main Ravacaggi battle cruiser came lumbering behind their screen, hurling powerful blasts from her main guns.
A concentrated volley of gunnery fire, directed by the fire control officer in command of the turrets along the spine of the wounded Narganz, struck the Resistor. Deflectors collapsed, and immediate internal systems targeting was available to the gunners aboard the burning destroyer. In the next volley the Narganz savaged the Resistor across her starboard side. Crew quarters and gunnery decks ruptured.
The MCR crew, badly trained and poor at damage control, did little to contain a developing cascade breach that collapsed a central bulkhead and disconnected much of the ship from her main power supply conduits. Many of the crew had failed to suit up for extended vacuum operation and were caught without air as blast doors and force fields refused to contain the spreading damage now decimating the ship from within. Effectively, the Resistor was dead in the middle. Only aft engineering and command-and-control forward remained under power. Some turrets were still firing on local batteries, but the ship was out of action for what remained of the battle.
This knockout blow did little to slow the fury of Revenge and Winged Victory, which raced through the fighter swarms, protected by PDC blaster turrets, and fired another salvo of SSMs into the Narganz at close range. Both torpedoes struck the ship’s spine, once again avoiding PDC fire and re-routed interceptors. The Narganz cracked in half. Lifeboats and escape pods jettisoned thirty seconds later as the “abandon ship” order was given.
The Republic battle group commander collapsed to the deck of CIC, suffering a massive heart attack. This freed the first officer from the bothersome procedural constraints regarding mutiny. He took command and immediately ordered jump control to begin their calculations for a general retreat. Thirty seconds later a message from jump control indicated that the mass of the super-destroyer was too great to attempt a jump with such a crowded star field, but Antive and Admiral Kamoda, along with the Sussa, had active jump windows and were released for escape.
All three ships leapt away, leaving the Imminent to her fate.
***
The first officer of the Imminent, now in command, ordered an atmospheric descent maneuver in order to protect the ship from incoming fire. Fighter groups were ordered to cover the retreat. The first officer’s thinking was that SSMs were atmo reentry incapable. Getting beneath the atmosphere with deflectors at full would at least protect the ship from the ship-killer missiles.
The Imminent was still a force to be reckoned with, and she proved that in the next few minutes. As she reversed thrusters and dropped back into the atmosphere of Murakawa, she targeted all fire on the closing Winged Victory. The first shots from her powerful guns smashed the forward defectors of the MCR ship. The second volley targeted the command section, and Imminent’s powerful energy bolts slammed into the hawkish forward bridge of the repurposed Gomarii war cruiser, destroying it.
With no one to control it, the Winged Victory, which was at max intercept speed and executing an atmospheric descent at the time, spiraled into the planet below. Her deflectors ablated the heat damage caused by atmospheric re-entry, but she nothing could stop her from spinning in like a rock. Four minutes later she would crater into a wide desert at almost max cruise power. The hole would be almost half a mile deep, and little would little left of Winged Victory beyond a micro-particle debris field.
Jona Crimm pulled the rest of the fleet back above the atmosphere and executed his second-to-last trick of the battle. His plan had always been to force the Imminent down into the gravity well of Murakawa and use this dangerous environment against the bigger, more powerful ship. Crimm knew that his fleet, even with the advanced SSMs, or lucky targeting, wouldn’t be able to take out the mighty Imminent on their own. Now it was time for gravity to help out.
MCR recon teams had been lying in wait on the outskirts of a small fishing village along Murakawa’s Great Southern Sea. As soon as the Imminent began her descent, the teams were launched to their new target locations. Former Republic supply shuttles, purchased off the black market, made their way out into the desert wastes, twenty-eight thousand feet beneath the spot where the Imminent was holding position. Up above, the atmosphere did indeed prevent the MCR from using their new voodoo SSMs, but it didn’t stop the ragtag fleet from bombarding the Imminent’s ventral deflectors with turret and blaster cannon fire. The power of these attacks was dampened, but not eliminated, by the fire’s passage through the atmosphere.
The Imminent’s sensor officer reported the presence of the shuttles crossing the landscape beneath the hovering warship, but the first officer decided the local Legion commander was preparing for a rescue operation and chose not to react to this. He pulled the fighter wings close in about the super-destroyer in order to protect the ship from another fighter attack.
Ten minutes later, five prototype man-portable surface-to-ship missiles launched from several spots along the desert floor. The Imminent’s sensors relayed the new data to the bridge, though it would be unclear in the aftermath whether the first officer ever knew the warship was targeted. The first officer would be killed in the crash of the Imminent, and post-battle investigators would hypothesize that he might have felt these SSMs were sent by the Legion to target the encircling MCR fleet.
All five missiles smashed into the Imminent’s repulsor stabilizer array system. Though the repulsors were still able to maintain thirty percent lift, it was insufficient. Imminent’s incredible mass dragged her plunging down toward the desert below. The abandon ship order was given at fifteen thousand feet, and just over twenty-five percent of the crew were able to escape the doomed ship before its destruction. At ten thousand feet, the bridge crew were able to set up a limited descent profile and effect a crash landing onto the desert floor. The ship hit nose first, killing the bridge crew as it carved a scorched black slash into the baked rock and blasted sand before coming to rest in three pieces among the drifting dunes. The hull wings had broken away from the central spine and main engineering.
When the titanic wave of dust and sand that had been flung into the air cleared, what was left of the fractured and burning Repub super-destroyer looked like the ancient skeleton of some leviathan from a lost age that bore no resemblances to the times and struggles of the galaxy in its current state.
***
The Battle of Murakawa would be called just that. Despite the House of Reason’s attempts to downplay and even cover up the catastrophic loss of an entire super-destroyer battle group, news of the defeat was soon leaked. Footage obtained three days later showed the still-burning Imminent buried in the sand, its crew struggling away from the wreck, trekking out and across the burning sands to reach a safe evacuation distance. As the footage zooms in on the straggling survivors, in the background one of the stricken ship’s internal magazines goes up in a sudden thunderclap of noise and camera movement. The ensuing shrieks of horror and disbelief make the surreal tragedy much more real than the House of Reason might want it to be.
The MCR Fleet leapt away from the battle shortly after the engagement, returning to their zones of control deep within the mid-core worlds. But just before the ancient Ravacaggi cruiser executed her jump, a small shuttle left her main hangar
deck and jumped away in a completely different stellar direction. This shuttle carried Jona Crimm, architect of the Victory at Murakawa.
06
Republic Destroyer Intrepid
Mid-Core
“Captain Cohen Chhun, reporting as ordered.”
Chhun stood ramrod straight, his bearing perfect and military. Keel made a mental note to tighten up and do the same. He found that standing at a smart attention came naturally. As easy as drifting into a docking bay while on repulsors. It just… happened.
“Captain Aeson Ford, reporting as ordered,” Keel said, ticking one thing off his mental checklist as he spoke. He’d figured goofing up and calling himself by his alias would be the first hurdle, so he had been repeating to himself that his name—his real name—was Ford, and not Keel.
The two stood in the conference room, Captain Deynolds behind them, waiting for a reply either from their Legion Commander or one of the delegates whose image was projected straight from Utopion. It was tough to figure out just who was running this meeting, but based on Deynolds’s briefing on the way, both men sensed it would be the House of Reason.
“Have a seat,” offered the holographic rendition of Legion Commander Keller, broadcast seamlessly from his place in a similar conference room aboard the super-destroyer Mercutio.
Keel and Chhun sat, as did Captain Deynolds.
Keller continued. “Joining us today are three members of the House Security Council. Delegates Orrin Kaar, Aletha A’lill’n, and Valon Uprecht.”
“Delegates,” mumbled Chhun and Ford in unison, each giving a perfunctory nod.
“Captains,” answered Delegate Kaar, who wore the affable smile of a politician forever in good favor. “I appreciate you both joining us. We weren’t sure when you’d resurface following your mission at Tarrago.”
Chhun hesitated, unsure what to say.
But Ford—Keel—was used to talking. And as he spoke, no trace of his roguish double life as a smuggler and bounty hunter could be heard. He was all precision. Full Legion. As fresh as though he’d just arrived from Officer Training Academy. “We were fortunate that Intrepid was just a short jump away. Exfiltrating from Tarrago was difficult.”
Kaar’s smile faded somewhat. “I’d rather imagine so.” His eyes drifted down to some sort of display beneath him. “I had the pleasure to review the service records of your kill team, Captain Chhun.”
“Yes, sir,” Chhun answered.
“And for the life of me,” Kaar continued, “I cannot comprehend why you have not yet been awarded the Order of the Centurion. Distinguished service on Kublar of all places, a seemingly never-ending parade of successful missions in Dark Ops, a commendation for your part in halting the Pride of Ankalor… you certainly deserve the award.”
“Thank you, sir,” answered Chhun, his voice steady, indicating neither pleasure nor apathy.
“Unlike the regular Legion, Dark Ops legionnaires typically aren’t awarded the Order,” Keller said, his face showing a dissatisfaction that this had somehow become the topic of conversation. “At least, not until retirement.”
“Or death,” interjected Delegate Uprecht. “But it seems a shame to forgo the honoring of the Republic’s heroes until it is… too late for them to be appreciated.”
“We don’t serve to be appreciated, sir,” Chhun said.
“Well said,” agreed Kaar, his warm smile returning. “Such is a truth for all who serve the Republic—my colleagues and, I daresay, myself being no exception.” The delegate tapped his chin. “Captain Ford… your service record, while impressive as any I’ve seen, lacks the continual thrills of Captain Chhun’s.”
Keller shifted in his chair. Ford’s time out on the edge, grifting and fighting against MCR, criminals, and the Republic alike, was gray territory at best. It was kept a close secret from the House and Senate in any event. Now likely wasn’t the time to shine a light on what the Legion was up to.
“No, sir,” Ford answered plainly. “After Kublar and the Pride operation, I was reassigned to a small task force charged with reducing piracy in the edge-mid hyperspace trade routes.”
“Is it wrong,” asked Delegate A’lill’n, “for me to wonder how then you would have been assigned to the mission on Tarrago?”
“No, ma’am,” answered Ford. “The mission was launched in haste. I just happened to be in a position to provide the necessary support to Captain Chhun’s kill team.”
“Captain Ford,” Delegate Kaar said, his voice effusing warmth. “Before we go any further, I should like to clarify that in my estimation, you also deserve to receive the Order of the Centurion.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Having served on Kublar, I imagine you both knew Admiral Silas Devers.”
“Yes, sir,” Chhun replied.
Almost was able to shoot him the head, Ford thought to himself.
“Then it will come as a blow to you to learn that Admiral Devers was killed in action, defending Tarrago from invasion.”
“That’s… unfortunate news,” Keel managed.
It was the best news he’d heard that day.
“It is indeed,” Kaar said, his voice betraying a tremor of emotion. “The Republic needs heroes in times such as these. I fear a darkness is upon us, the likes of which hasn’t been seen since the Savage Wars. I shall endeavor to do all in my power to see that you both are given the recognition you’ve earned, so that the Republic can feel at ease, knowing that the men who served under Admiral Devers at Kublar still live on to fight.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Ford, quick to respond how he imagined any officer in his position would.
“Thank you, sir,” echoed Chhun.
The hologram of Kaar sank back in its seat, just as the real Kaar did in his office in Utopion. “Think nothing of it. But first, we must attend to some less pleasant business. Captains, were you aware that your mission to destroy the shipyards at Tarrago was an unauthorized operation, carried contrary to the direct orders from the House of Reason and Legion Commander Keller?”
Chhun felt his face grow hot. He clamped his jaws down tight. This was always the way it was with the House and points: someone was being set up to take a fall. Chhun guessed it was him.
Ford, however, was alert and ready to play. He allowed himself a brief expression of shock. “Sir?”
“It was the intention of the House of Reason to retake Tarrago, keeping the shipyards in production for the good of the Republic.” Kaar folded his hands into a steeple and pressed them to his lips, staring at the two legionnaires. “That… is no longer an option… thanks to your successful mission.”
“Sir…” Ford did his best to look taken aback, alarmed. He locked eyes with Chhun and, without winking, tried to say, Trust me. Then he looked down at the table. “Sir, we had no idea that this mission was anything but a Dark Ops raid authorized through appropriate channels.”
“Captains,” began Delegate Utrecht, “who authorized this mission? Who was your point of contact?”
Ford looked over to Commander Keller, as if seeking permission to answer. Keller nodded once. “Major Ellek Owens was my sole point of contact.”
“And you, Captain Chhun?” asked Delegate A’lill’n.
“The same.”
Chhun looked like he was going to lose his lunch. Ford hoped he could hold it together. Something was up, and the legionnaire-turned-smuggler had a feeling that this was the part Captain Deynolds wanted them to play along with.
“Captain Deynolds?” Delegate Kaar asked, his tone suggesting more of a summons than a question.
Deynolds slid two datapads onto the conference table, putting one in front of each of the legionnaires.
“What’s before you,” said Kaar, “is a sworn statement indicating that Major Owens solely arranged and authorized your mission. If this is true, your signatures and bio-stamps are requested. Major Owens is to stand trial for treason against the Republic, and your personal presence will not be required if you are willing to
supply the Republic with this affidavit. In keeping with House law, as you are victims yourself—being sent on a mission against your government unbeknown to you—Major Owens’s defense will be denied the right to cross-examine or question your testimonies.”
Both men held the datapads in their hands. It was Keller who nudged them to bring the meeting to its conclusion. “Sign it if it’s true, boys. No one is above the laws and constitution of this Republic.”
Ford signed. Chhun followed with a weak scrawl of his own. The datapads recorded their bio-sigs and time-stamps, then chimed before their screens went dark. Captain Deynolds collected the pads, though the information had already been transmitted to Utopion.
“Thank you both for your service to the Republic,” Kaar said, his congenial and warm tone mixed with a sense of gravity over the situation. “I will do my best to see that you are awarded the Order of the Centurion. I promise you that.”
“Thank you, sir,” Chhun and Ford answered in unison.
The three holographic delegates winked out, leaving the legionnaires to share the room with Captain Deynolds and the hologram of Keller.
“What in Oba’s name was that about?” Chhun shouted. “Major Owens isn’t guilty of anything.”
“They set him up,” Keel observed. “Happens all the time.”
“I’m afraid that’s correct,” Keller said with a sigh. “This entire Tarrago situation looks awful for the Republic. It’s Kublar on alpha-roids. The Seventh Fleet was whipped, and its poster child, Admiral Landoo, was shown to be completely incompetent. Not that anyone serving on the edge couldn’t have told you that. Admiral Devers is dead, so there’s another golden boy gone. The moon and its gun were taken… with no clue if there are any legionnaires left alive on that base. About all the Republic has going for it is the promise that the Legion is preparing to mount an invasion to retake the system.”
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