Post by AFER on Feb 18, 2013 1:13:29 GMT -5
Faction: Republic Military
Department: Navy
Rank: Rear Admiral
Name: Derix Cole
Race: Human
Age: 46
Height: 6’1
Weight: 170
Birth place: Coruscant
Appearance:
Derix Cole can almost always be found wearing a military uniform. Whether it’s his orange flight suit, his Republic physical training uniform, or his standard Admiral tunic, he is almost never seen in civilian clothes. His two brown eyes and ridged jaw line gives Derix a constant appearance of being deep in thought. Even with a receding hairline beginning to creep back, Derix’s blonde hair is generally spiked slightly from the front. While not muscular, the military clothing of the Admiral shows that he’s got a defined body, the work of running fifty kilometers a week for the last twenty years. The only outstanding feature of the Admiral is a scar which moves from the brachialis of his left arm up to the deltoid of his shoulder. The wound, a remnant of a cockpit explosion from his twenties, can clearly be seen when Derix is working out, but does not interfere with his strength after years of training and therapy.
Personality:
The Admiral has two distinct personalities, one when he is in Command and one with his closest advisors, friends, and family. Through the years of serving in the Republic Navy, the Admiral was frustrated with the waste and corruption in the Officer ranks as well as the unconscious thirst of power he’d seen in many of the Admirals he’d served under. There are three things Derix Cole cares about while commanding a unit: the mission, safety, and the needs of his people. He has no room for politics, pompous ceremonies, or wasting the time of his men and women. This dedication to his ideals, as well the steady, commanding presence during battle, has won him the love of the Officers he’s flown with and commanded throughout his career. As a new admiral, he was allowed to hand select his bridge crew, for whom he deeply respects. He feels it is his duty to get to know everyone under his Command, not just these few Officers who he works with each day. On the bridge he is highly professional, only breaking for an occasional joke with his First Officer, Colonel Zethka, his old roommate from the Academy.
However, while Derix has quickly won of the love and dedication of his people, his personality has isolated the Admiral amongst many of the higher ranking Officers in the Republic Navy who see him as a renegade officer who defies the standard protocol of Officer performance and promotion.
When Derix is away from his snubfighters or the bridge of his Flag Ship, The Orion, he becomes a different individual. This is exacerbated around his wife, Jena Marix-Cole. He loses his overly professional demeanor and while still directed and focused, he becomes drippingly sarcastic and will make fun of anything he can. Together Jena and Derix could sit and laugh for hours, requiring only their favorite table in a small pub on the streets of Coruscant. Derix is deeply committed to his wife, drawn by her professional drive, toned body, and dry wit. While he would easily die for anyone under his Command, he’d lay his life down for Marix without thought or hesitation. Each deployment pains him as he leaves her, knowing her job as the Chief Physician to the Governor is equally as important as his own. However, fighting for her safety and freedom, a freedom he holds dearly, is his drive to be the best Admiral he can become.
Skills:
Advanced Spacecraft Piloting
Naval Warfare
Siege Warfare
Ship Systems - Communications, Combat Systems, Navigations
Advanced Naval Fleet Tactics
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 4
Intelligence: 6
Speed: 5
Leadership: 8
Unarmed: 3
Melee Weapons: 2
Ranged Weapons: 5
Bio:
The Middle Class might be the economic engine which keeps the galaxy spinning, but it doesn’t mean much on the city-planet of Coruscant. As the center of finance, security, arts, philosophy, trade, and politics, the planet’s population has two distinct societal groupings, the rich and the poor. The wealthy flood the planet, living in the high-rise buildings and their luxury yachts. The poor take jobs to serve the rich.
However, what everyone fails to remember is that the city is still a planet. While the 100% coverage of the planet severely reduces weather patterns, no amount of technology or growth can prevent the two poles from having distinct seasons. The south pole of Coruscant, one of the industrial centers of the planet, is generally disliked by the wealthy that prefer the moderate equator. With chilly winters and dry summers, why would anyone live there when a perfect, temperate, technology controlled climate is only a shuttle flight away?
Kathex, a weapons manufacturer of torpedoes and laser cannons, has a very large presence in this area of the planet. Between the consistent lobbying of the Senate as well as the central shipping lines, Kathex placed its Headquarters at the South Pole of Coruscant, jumping at a deal for cheap land during city reconstruction in the 3780’s BBY, despite the planet’s unfortunately high tax rates.
Mark Cole, a strategic weapons engineer, was hired shortly after having graduated from professional training on Corellia by Kathex. Mark and his wife, Naya, moved to Coruscant along with their two sons, Larm and Daniel. The family was distinctly middle class. They owned their own duplex near the bottom of a building, could afford a short, yearly vacation, and saved money for their children’s future education.
As winter approached in 3648 BBY, Naya and Mark sat down their two sons and explained they would need to move into the same room together. Another Cole was on the way, their younger brother, Derix.
The first four years of Derix life were like any other child in the Galaxy. First haircut, first steps, first words. Derix grew quickly, and by the age of four was as tall as his brothers were at six. Derix’s mother loved taking care of her children. While she worked a part time job as a nurse at the Kathex Medical Clinic, she believed raising her children to have honest morals and a desire to succeed was her first priority.
When Derix was five there was a huge change for the Cole family at the Kathex plant. Derix father had engineered a new power storage unit which allowed plasma to flood into the weapons chamber of an ion cannon. The plasma supercharged the shell nanoseconds before being launched and the results were miraculous. The potential gain was twofold. First, this allowed large spacecraft such as capital ships to have a 13% increase in potential energy per shot, allowing for the expanded targeting of shield and electronic systems, but could also allow smaller ships to equip newly designed ion cannons and have an energy efficient weapon on a small scale.
Kathex, free of charge, equipped the Republic’s premier capital ship with a battery of the newly designed ion cannons. Derix’s father beamed as the Kathex weapons team watched from the bridge as the ion cannons fully disabled the test spacecraft at the Republic weapons field in two thirds the shots of a typical cannon. Republic Admirals cheered. Photos were taken. Stock prices skyrocketed.
The Cole family suddenly wasn’t middle class.
Derix and his brothers excitingly explored their new house, a multi-level duplex near the top of the Kathex Executive Housing Tower. While his brothers were ecstatic about having their own rooms again, Derix loved the view. Thousands of spacecraft and shuttles flew overhead at any given time. The Executive Housing Tower, which overlooked the weapons factories, was consistently buzzed by Kathex transports and Republic Navy spacecraft. After a few months of staring out of his window in earnest, Derix mother specifically rearranged his room so he could fall asleep watching the major shipping lines fly overhead.
Derix and his brothers Larm and Daniel, who were four and five years older than he was, respectively, went to one of the best schools in southern region. Larm didn’t take school seriously, much to his mother’s chagrin, and focused instead on sports and fitness. When Derix was twelve, he remembers watching Larm make the winning pin at the Regional wrestling tournament. Daniel focused on school and was already following in his father’s footsteps. By the age of seventeen, Daniel was working on design projects that Derix couldn’t even begin to comprehend.
As Derix’s father continued to move up in the Kathex Chain of Command, Derix began to become exposed to the Republic Navy’s highest ranking Officers. In a galaxy where the military industrial complex paid for entire trade routes and kept systems alive, Admirals were consistently visiting Kathex to see progress on contracts for the next generation of weapons system.
Derix father, who had moved from direct engineering to management positions, began to attend and ultimately host Admirals on a weekly basis. While ethics rules were established for gifts to Republic personnel there was certainly a grey area. While no defense contractor wanted to push the legal limits, for fear of a competing company blowing the whistle to the Senate Committee on Military Contracts, if a gift or dinner could sway a contractor’s mind, it could mean billions of credits in the long run.
The Cole family quickly began to know every Admiral and contractor in the Republic fleet. Strangely, in Derix’s mind, both of his older brothers began to pursue careers in the military. They’d never talked about wanting to join the Navy, but Derix didn’t question their motives. They were both highly qualified to go into whatever they wanted. Daniel, followed by Larm the next year, was accepted to the Republic Naval Academy at Correllia.
Derix hated being the only child at home. While he’d never been close with his two brothers, being a 14 year old stuck with his parents was dreadful.
The Naval Academy at Corellia wasn’t a place known for having the happiest people in the world. The four year program was meant to be grueling and push midshipmen to their limits. If you could survive the hazing and impossible academics, then you could survive any Sith onslaught…..or so the Officers running the Academy believed.
Derix strived at the Academy. He was accepted into the basic flying programs and quickly advanced, showing a natural ability to fly. After being accepted into the Instructor Pilot program during his second year, he tried to spend as much time flying as possible.
Derix, being slightly more reserved and focused on becoming a pilot, didn’t get along with his roommate Matt Zethka at first. Derix thought Matt was an idiot and a gym rat. Matt was popular, spent most of his time at the gym, and was a ladies man. It wasn’t uncommon for Matt to have a different girl each month for the first two years at the Academy. Derix focused his efforts on school and flying. Matt thought it was comical Derix was still a virgin at the age of nineteen.
During the second semester of their time at the Academy, Derix and Matt were placed into the same Stellar Navigations class. The course, taught by a young and newly promoted Lieutenant Krypt Bayton, was hell. The overly harsh Bayton singled out Derix and Matt after he believed he’d caught them talking during his lecture on the first day of class. Soon, despite their best efforts, they were the only two failing the class and were getting punishments piled up from Lt Bayton.
As they went through their punishments and mandatory study sessions, the two overcame their original dislike and were soon enjoying their time together. By the end of the semester, despite their hard work, Matt and Derix still failed the class. However, they’d built a bond of friendship which would serve them for years to come.
The next semester, when Derix and Matt were able to take the class with a different professor, they had the two highest grades in Stellar Navigations the Academy had seen in years.
Most midshipmen at the Academy had to change several roommates during their four year stay. After the second year, each midshipman is assigned to a different squadron, effectively rotating who you saw and interacted with each day to mimic changes in duty station and deployments the Republic Navy faced. Luckily for Derix, his best friend and roommate moved to the same new squadron simply by luck. Matt and Derix were able to remain roommates for all four years of their studies.
Despite their incredibly close friendship, the pair made fun of each other on a consistent basis. Derix was on the receiving end of many jokes involving his failures with women and Matt received endless comments on both his less than stellar grades and his failure to pass the basic flying class, dooming him to a career as a ship station operator.
By graduation, Derix was being awarded Distinguished Graduating Honors and had received his first assignment for pilot training, the New Republics premier fighter squadron training squadron, the Black Jaguars, at Coruscant.
Derix’s assignment to the Black Jaguars was a dream come true. With days lasting sixteen to eighteen hours, the squadron’s sole focus was to make elite pilots for the Republic Navy. One of the few squadrons which learned directly on the Republic’s most advanced models of the Aurek fighters, the Black Jaguars were the envy of almost every other pilot training squadron in the Galaxy.
Derix’s pilot training class, 56-U74, was one of the most successful in Jaguar history. The 11 student pilots proceeded through pilot training having never failed a ride – a feat a class every five to ten years accomplished. Derix’s best friend during pilot training and his wingman for most close maneuver flying was Ensign Jain Tarmar.
After a year and a half of grueling training, Jain was ranked #1 and Derix was ranked #2. The two moved together to their new squadron, the 75th Fighter Squadron based out of Coruscant. The 75th was the one of the premier fighter squadrons of the Republic Navy, being assigned to the Republic’s Flag Ship, The Democracy, during deployments. Additionally, with their Aurek fighters being equipped with hyperdrive, the squadron performed missions directly for the Republic Naval Council.
The first deployment of the squadron had been uneventful. The Admirals were reluctant to send the main fleet deep into a hot zone. While the 75th felt the Admiral was being skittish, no one really complained too much.
When they returned from Coruscant, the 75th threw a huge party for a successful deployment, despite seeing no action. As the newest pilots had to drink the most, Derix and Jain got absolutely hammered. After hours of drinking, the two stumbled back to their apartment. However, with only two blocks to go, the pair was stopped by a pair of young, cloaked thieves. After demanding money from the drunk pilots, Jain was stripped of his watch, a heirloom of his grandfather.
Jain, sobering up slightly as he realized the importance of the item being taken, attacked. Derix jumped the other, slightly smaller thief. Within two minutes, Derix and Jain were bloodied….but their won back their wallets and Jain’s watch.Despite their best attempts at stopping the bleeding, Jain’s broken nose required skill beyond the two pilots. Derix and Jain took a shuttle, which they left several pools of Jain’s blood on, to the Emergency Department of the Courscant Regional Medical Center.
That’s where Derix met Jena Merix, a medical resident pulling the graveyard shift at the ER. Derix, who’d never been one with women, was immediately fascinated by Jena. Her looks. Her knowledge. Her degrading look at the drunken pilots. He was transfixed.
Derix flirted with Jena the whole evening. Originally, she wrote him off as another drunk fly boy who’d come back from deployment, but soon felt something else was there. Derix asked a Jena out for dinner and drinks. For the first time ever, it worked. Within two weeks, Derix slept over at Jena’s apartment. He knew within months there was no other woman for him in the Galaxy.
[To be very much continued....]
RP Sample:
“You should keep off of it for at least a week.”
Derix Cole lied back on the small table at the news. “You know I can’t do that.”
“You will as soon as I order you to.”
Derix gave out a large sigh. He absolutely hated when he couldn't meet the operational objectives he’d been given, when he couldn't complete the mission. He looked up at the physician standing above him, smiling brightly. He felt his disappointment flood away from him as he stared into the rich blue eyes of the woman. “Are you ordering me as my wife or as my physician?”
Jena Marix-Cole couldn’t help but hold back a laugh. “Which one are you more afraid of?”
“I’m not quite sure,” Derix said sarcastically. He watched as his wife turned around and walked towards the counter, writing notes into his personal chart. As her fingers ran across the small touch screen, he couldn’t help but be amazed by her beauty. Her long white coat ran down to her feet.
“You need to be on a consistent steroid for at least a week to cut the swelling in your knee. I’ll talk to your Execs so they remind you to take it once every eight hours since I know you won’t remember by yourself. You shouldn’t run for ‘at least’ a few days.” Derix could tell she hurried the next few words, “I’m also grounding you from flying.”
That, though, was one step too far. He pounced. Leaping from the small table, he came from behind his wife, picking her up quickly. He spun around with her in her arms and slammed, his intention was a light slam, her onto the small table he’d just been lying on.
“This is why I don’t ask you for medical help,” he murmured softly before kissing her.
She pulled away from his kiss with a broad smile. “Too bad Fly Boy, I’m the best doc in your whole fleet.”
“You’re damn right you are…” his words getting cut off by yet another kiss.
The two didn’t get much alone time together anymore. Either he was out on a tour with the Fleet or she was traveling with the Governor of Coruscant. Her love of medicine and empathy for those suffering had moved her quickly through the ranks of medicine on their home planet of Coruscant. She’d been asked by the Governor himself to move into the public’s service as the Chief Physician of the Governor. She felt the job would not only allow her to give more medical aid to the planet she loved, but potentially effect policy for the entire Core.
Jena loved it all, the politics, the opportunity, the travel. All the things Derix couldn’t stand. He hated going to the promotion ceremonies throughout his own Fleet, much less meeting with politicians on a daily basis.
In an interesting twist of fate, however, the Governor was traveling to a nearby sector of space as Derix’s portion of the Republic fleet. While potentially dangerous, Jena had travelled with the Governor and then taken a personal shuttle to come and visit her husband on the Orion. They did anything to spend even a few hours together.
Derix ran his fingers across the scrubs his wife was wearing under her white coat. Even after having two children, she was in arguably better shape than he was. He pushed up her top inch by inch.
A tone rang through the room as the lights switched from their standard white to a dark red hue. A claxon screamed.
“Battle Stations. Battle Stations. Sith Fleet Approaching. ETA 8 Minutes. Battle Stations. Battle Stations.” The familiar voice of Colonel Matt Zethka delivered no emotion, just a calm declaration of fact.
He knew his wife shouldn’t have visited him this far out from the Core.
Derix jumped off the table and quickly buttoned his tight, grey tunic and walked to the door of the small examination room. As he neared the door, he felt a hand on his shoulder pull him back. Derix turned and looked longingly at his wife. She looked entirely calm and accepting on his duty to leave for the bridge. She brought her hands to his chest and rubbed the one Admiral pip he wore over his heart.
“Go get ‘em Fly Boy.”
Derix leaned in and kissed Jena one last time before turning and walking out the door.
____________________________________________________
The bridge of the Orion was a true mastery of design and engineering. The room was shaped like a half circle, the front entirely reinforced transparisteel. At the highest point was the Commander’s chair, and the rest of the room flowed from beneath it. Positions of importance, such as Tactical and Engineering, were raised along the outside edges. This allowed the Commander and his First Officer to communicate directly with these positions since they were at eye level.
To a stranger, the current state of the bridge would be madness. Orders being shouted overlapped each other, reports from Officers were yelled back with equal ferocity. While only fifteen Officers were needed during a normal duty shift on the bridge, during combat twenty-one staffed positions and six other Officers waited in reserve. This allowed both a redundancy in decision making for the different departments, but also provided extra bodies in case of injuries. While the entire ship would be destroyed if the bridge took a direct hit, if individual consoles overloaded or if an Officer was knocked unconscious during an attack run, the “on deck” Officer would be ready to take over the position.
“Admiral on deck!” a voice shouted from behind Derix. Instantaneously, the chaos stopped. With the exception of chirping consoles and the weak radio transmissions coming through an Officers’ headsets, the bridge was silent. Every individual was at perfect attention, many starting directly at Derix. While he hated the pomp and circumstance, he could see the pride each of his Officers had by being assigned to this ship, under his Command. He wasn't going to let these people down.
“As you were,” he said quickly. The chaos immediately returned.
Derix walked up the series of wide steps to the chair at the center of the bridge. A tall man, with a head of black hair, stood next to the chair. It was his good friend, and old Academy roommate, Colonel Matt Zethka. The Colonel’s arm bulged, bringing the fabric in the sleeves on his tunic to the breaking point. This was not a man to mess with.
“Sir, the Fleet has all reported in. The Venture still has maneuvering engine problems and The Carpathia was half way through an electrical system upgrade to her port IC’s when the EAB fired. We’re about four out now. I’ve got the HMF forming and have brought the HVGs into position.”
Derix’s mind immediately started putting the scenario together. The Emergency Attack Beacon had detected an incoming fleet’s warp of space-time and had sounded the alarm. The Fleet was ready but one of the Capital ships, the Carpathia, had no power to its port ion cannons leaving its flank vulnerable. One of the smaller supply ships was having engine issues. A basic tactical formation, called the High Maneuverability Formation, had been established and the six middle sized ships, known as High Velocity Gunboats, had formed along the periphery of the formation.
In all, the 35 ship Fleet was ready for the oncoming attack.
As Derix spoke, every Officer on the bridge instantly responded. “Have The Aggressor move to cover the Venture. If their hyperdrive is still working have them start calculating a jump. Have the Carpathia move its inclination to negative three seven and move alongside the Orion. We’ll take their vulnerable side and place it right on our ass.”
A voice, one that he recognized as Lieutenant Synthia Carps, called from his left side, “8 of 12 launched. 26 of 38 total.”
Good. Eight of the eleven fighter squadrons have already been launched from the Orion and twenty six from the entire fleet. For years that had been him. He’d commanded countless fleet defenses from his cockpit. He watched his fighters move away from the ships, looking like little flying bugs. He longed to be flying one of them.
But that wasn’t his job anymore. His fleet’s subfighter commander, Lieutenant Colonel Yakay Nahr, would have that job today. Because the EAB had fired, the surprise the Sith Fleet was expecting had been lost. Derix’s fleet, while not knowing the size of their enemy, had gained the advantage. With its guns primed at the entrance vector and its fighters launched, they could immediately begin attacking the capital ships of the Sith Fleet. That alone would buy them a minute or two. The Sith, who’s fighters will still need to be launched, would also lose the precious seconds in the beginning. His fighters would immediately begin targeting the launching Sith fighters and their hangers. If they got into position quickly enough, they’d squash the Sith as they were launching and before could fight back. If they could cut the fighter support, the Sith capital ships would be left vulnerable to a multilateral attack.
Whatever engineer developed the EAB was about to save a lot of Republic lives, possibly including Jena’s and his own.
Derix sat down in his chair as the ship stopped rotating, The Orion’s main batteries becoming fixed on the hyperdrive vector of the approaching fleet. He thumbed a button on the console on the arm of his chair.
“Fleet Commanders, listen up. We didn’t pick this fight. Listen closely to firing orders and keep your distance from the Orion and the Carpathia. We’ll be doing some interesting maneuvering up here to keep her port IC’s fixed on our tail. Good luck.”
Immediately, the lights on the opposite chair arm representing the ships under his command began to blink. The Commanders were acknowledging his message. It may be the last time he spoke to several of them.
His Commanders, his people, were ready for battle.
With a flash of grey and red, the Sith Fleet exited hyperspace and descended upon the Republic Fleet. Derix immediately knew they were at the disadvantage in terms of size. His three major capital ships were up against the Sith’s four. In total he was probably outnumbered by five or six ships.
He shouted over the chaos of the bridge. “Get the registry numbers of those ships back to Command.” It was important the Republic know which ships were here. If this fleet had come from the defense of a planet or shipyard, a well-timed counterattack could be critical to the long term success of the war.
Derix surveyed the scene quickly as blue and red began to streak across the space between the two fleets. His fleet had the superior firing position, for now. The next two or three minutes would be critical. If his ships could be positioned correctly, he’d be able to win this thing even though they were outnumbered.
“Bring the Apollo to three three mark seven eight” he shouted. “Bring The Leonidas up to the upper left flank.”
“Sir, it’s the Agamemnon,” shouted one of the Officers sitting in the Communication’s pit. The name brought a chill up Derix’s spine. The Agamemnon was the Flag Ship of Admiral Krypt Bayton, one of the leaders of the Sith Navy.
Derix shot a look at Colonel Zethka. They would be fighting one of their old Academy professors today. A professor that Derix had especially distained during his time at the Academy after failing one of classes taught by then Lieutenant Bayton. The man was one of the meanest naval officers Derix had ever met, no wonder he’d defected to the Sith.
“Concentrate all fire on their gunboats. I want them taken out before they target our fighters,” Matt Zethka shouted to the weapons officer.
Derix refocused on strategy. The Sith Fleet was concentrated in a formation similar to the letter V. It was a common naval siege tactic. Attack in a central formation and try to tear the enemy fleet apart by punching straight through. Not only was your enemy cut in half, greatly reducing their ability to maneuver and position, both the port and starboard batteries of the Capital ships would have consistent targets. However, if executed poorly, it was a risky move. Once you initiated the attack, you had no way to back down or escape until you punched fully through the enemy fleet. Additionally, you drew extra fire to the Capital ships.
This was a gauntlet Derix didn’t have to be an Admiral to know he’d be on the losing end of He was about to completely change the game. “Bring the Orion and the Carpathia to full port.”
“Wait, what?” Matt Zethka shot back. He recognized how loud he’d questioned the Admiral’s orders. He spoke quieter, “Sir, they’re directly attacking.”
Derix knew that’s exactly how everyone in both fleets was thinking. “Bring the entire fleet to full port,” he repeated calmly. Despite his initial reaction, Matt Zethka passed the orders down the chain to the Operations and Navigations positions on the bridge. Once an order from Derix was repeated, Zethka wasn’t going to question them.
Derix spoke quickly, explaining his rationale. “They’re attacking with full force, trying to wedge us apart. We’re not going to let them. My goal is to turn their fleet into the shape of an arrow, and then drive us down one side of it. Once we move past the tip of their fleet, one side of the arrow will have to shoot past their own ships to hit us. That might take some of their ships out of the game completely as they move to reposition. We’ll only be fighting half their fleet.
He could see as Zethka began to realize the plan. The muscular Officer took only seconds until he was shouting orders to the Tactical controllers. The entire fleet began to move to one side of the Sith’s approaching arrow.
“Get me Nahr!” Derix shouted as he picked up a headset sitting on his chair’s arm. He placed it over his head and brought the attached microphone in front of his mouth.
“Yes Admiral,” Nahr’s voice was strained. He and his squadrons of snubfighters were already in the thick of things. “The quick launch gave us the upper hand. I’d say we’ll prevent 20% of their fighters from even launching.”
Derix acknowledge the good information, but quickly responded. “I need you to give me Black squadron. I want them to directly target the Agamemnon’s bridge and harass it. Even if they don’t do damage, I want them to distract the bridge as much as possible.”
Nahr didn’t question the orders. Black squadron disengaged from the fight and flew straight towards the enemy capital ship. Derix looked at his First Officer, “Don’t you remember old Bayton would get easily distracted. He’s going to spend at least a minute or two trying to figure out why I just did that.”
Within minutes the first ships were lost on both sides. The Horizon, one of Derix’s gunboats was annihilated. The ship’s weapons containment facilities had been hit, instantly exploding. The Sith has lost two, a small support freighter and a larger attack spacecraft.
The Orion had taken a bit of a pounding in its effort to protect the flank of the Carpathia. The once pristine bridge now smelled like charred metal and a slight haze filled the large room after one of the engineering consoles had ignited. While a few cables and fallen from the ceiling, the ship was still in perfect fighting condition…and packed quiet a punch.
And then Derix saw it. The Sith fleet was extending itself to try and open more batteries to the Republic fleet. The arrow was extending, becoming more flat. A hole had formed right in the middle of the arrow. The tip was separating from the body of the fleet.
This was his chance. “Colonel…” Matt Zethka had seen it too. They were about to do exactly what the Sith originally planned, attack the center of the enemy fleet. “…order the whole fleet to punch straight across the Agamemnon’s nose.”
“Your move, old man,” Derix muttered below the noise of the bridge so only the Colonel besides him could hear it.
Department: Navy
Rank: Rear Admiral
Name: Derix Cole
Race: Human
Age: 46
Height: 6’1
Weight: 170
Birth place: Coruscant
Appearance:
Derix Cole can almost always be found wearing a military uniform. Whether it’s his orange flight suit, his Republic physical training uniform, or his standard Admiral tunic, he is almost never seen in civilian clothes. His two brown eyes and ridged jaw line gives Derix a constant appearance of being deep in thought. Even with a receding hairline beginning to creep back, Derix’s blonde hair is generally spiked slightly from the front. While not muscular, the military clothing of the Admiral shows that he’s got a defined body, the work of running fifty kilometers a week for the last twenty years. The only outstanding feature of the Admiral is a scar which moves from the brachialis of his left arm up to the deltoid of his shoulder. The wound, a remnant of a cockpit explosion from his twenties, can clearly be seen when Derix is working out, but does not interfere with his strength after years of training and therapy.
Personality:
The Admiral has two distinct personalities, one when he is in Command and one with his closest advisors, friends, and family. Through the years of serving in the Republic Navy, the Admiral was frustrated with the waste and corruption in the Officer ranks as well as the unconscious thirst of power he’d seen in many of the Admirals he’d served under. There are three things Derix Cole cares about while commanding a unit: the mission, safety, and the needs of his people. He has no room for politics, pompous ceremonies, or wasting the time of his men and women. This dedication to his ideals, as well the steady, commanding presence during battle, has won him the love of the Officers he’s flown with and commanded throughout his career. As a new admiral, he was allowed to hand select his bridge crew, for whom he deeply respects. He feels it is his duty to get to know everyone under his Command, not just these few Officers who he works with each day. On the bridge he is highly professional, only breaking for an occasional joke with his First Officer, Colonel Zethka, his old roommate from the Academy.
However, while Derix has quickly won of the love and dedication of his people, his personality has isolated the Admiral amongst many of the higher ranking Officers in the Republic Navy who see him as a renegade officer who defies the standard protocol of Officer performance and promotion.
When Derix is away from his snubfighters or the bridge of his Flag Ship, The Orion, he becomes a different individual. This is exacerbated around his wife, Jena Marix-Cole. He loses his overly professional demeanor and while still directed and focused, he becomes drippingly sarcastic and will make fun of anything he can. Together Jena and Derix could sit and laugh for hours, requiring only their favorite table in a small pub on the streets of Coruscant. Derix is deeply committed to his wife, drawn by her professional drive, toned body, and dry wit. While he would easily die for anyone under his Command, he’d lay his life down for Marix without thought or hesitation. Each deployment pains him as he leaves her, knowing her job as the Chief Physician to the Governor is equally as important as his own. However, fighting for her safety and freedom, a freedom he holds dearly, is his drive to be the best Admiral he can become.
Skills:
Advanced Spacecraft Piloting
Naval Warfare
Siege Warfare
Ship Systems - Communications, Combat Systems, Navigations
Advanced Naval Fleet Tactics
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 4
Intelligence: 6
Speed: 5
Leadership: 8
Unarmed: 3
Melee Weapons: 2
Ranged Weapons: 5
Bio:
The Early Years
The Middle Class might be the economic engine which keeps the galaxy spinning, but it doesn’t mean much on the city-planet of Coruscant. As the center of finance, security, arts, philosophy, trade, and politics, the planet’s population has two distinct societal groupings, the rich and the poor. The wealthy flood the planet, living in the high-rise buildings and their luxury yachts. The poor take jobs to serve the rich.
However, what everyone fails to remember is that the city is still a planet. While the 100% coverage of the planet severely reduces weather patterns, no amount of technology or growth can prevent the two poles from having distinct seasons. The south pole of Coruscant, one of the industrial centers of the planet, is generally disliked by the wealthy that prefer the moderate equator. With chilly winters and dry summers, why would anyone live there when a perfect, temperate, technology controlled climate is only a shuttle flight away?
Kathex, a weapons manufacturer of torpedoes and laser cannons, has a very large presence in this area of the planet. Between the consistent lobbying of the Senate as well as the central shipping lines, Kathex placed its Headquarters at the South Pole of Coruscant, jumping at a deal for cheap land during city reconstruction in the 3780’s BBY, despite the planet’s unfortunately high tax rates.
Mark Cole, a strategic weapons engineer, was hired shortly after having graduated from professional training on Corellia by Kathex. Mark and his wife, Naya, moved to Coruscant along with their two sons, Larm and Daniel. The family was distinctly middle class. They owned their own duplex near the bottom of a building, could afford a short, yearly vacation, and saved money for their children’s future education.
As winter approached in 3648 BBY, Naya and Mark sat down their two sons and explained they would need to move into the same room together. Another Cole was on the way, their younger brother, Derix.
The first four years of Derix life were like any other child in the Galaxy. First haircut, first steps, first words. Derix grew quickly, and by the age of four was as tall as his brothers were at six. Derix’s mother loved taking care of her children. While she worked a part time job as a nurse at the Kathex Medical Clinic, she believed raising her children to have honest morals and a desire to succeed was her first priority.
When Derix was five there was a huge change for the Cole family at the Kathex plant. Derix father had engineered a new power storage unit which allowed plasma to flood into the weapons chamber of an ion cannon. The plasma supercharged the shell nanoseconds before being launched and the results were miraculous. The potential gain was twofold. First, this allowed large spacecraft such as capital ships to have a 13% increase in potential energy per shot, allowing for the expanded targeting of shield and electronic systems, but could also allow smaller ships to equip newly designed ion cannons and have an energy efficient weapon on a small scale.
Kathex, free of charge, equipped the Republic’s premier capital ship with a battery of the newly designed ion cannons. Derix’s father beamed as the Kathex weapons team watched from the bridge as the ion cannons fully disabled the test spacecraft at the Republic weapons field in two thirds the shots of a typical cannon. Republic Admirals cheered. Photos were taken. Stock prices skyrocketed.
The Cole family suddenly wasn’t middle class.
Derix and his brothers excitingly explored their new house, a multi-level duplex near the top of the Kathex Executive Housing Tower. While his brothers were ecstatic about having their own rooms again, Derix loved the view. Thousands of spacecraft and shuttles flew overhead at any given time. The Executive Housing Tower, which overlooked the weapons factories, was consistently buzzed by Kathex transports and Republic Navy spacecraft. After a few months of staring out of his window in earnest, Derix mother specifically rearranged his room so he could fall asleep watching the major shipping lines fly overhead.
Derix and his brothers Larm and Daniel, who were four and five years older than he was, respectively, went to one of the best schools in southern region. Larm didn’t take school seriously, much to his mother’s chagrin, and focused instead on sports and fitness. When Derix was twelve, he remembers watching Larm make the winning pin at the Regional wrestling tournament. Daniel focused on school and was already following in his father’s footsteps. By the age of seventeen, Daniel was working on design projects that Derix couldn’t even begin to comprehend.
As Derix’s father continued to move up in the Kathex Chain of Command, Derix began to become exposed to the Republic Navy’s highest ranking Officers. In a galaxy where the military industrial complex paid for entire trade routes and kept systems alive, Admirals were consistently visiting Kathex to see progress on contracts for the next generation of weapons system.
Derix father, who had moved from direct engineering to management positions, began to attend and ultimately host Admirals on a weekly basis. While ethics rules were established for gifts to Republic personnel there was certainly a grey area. While no defense contractor wanted to push the legal limits, for fear of a competing company blowing the whistle to the Senate Committee on Military Contracts, if a gift or dinner could sway a contractor’s mind, it could mean billions of credits in the long run.
The Cole family quickly began to know every Admiral and contractor in the Republic fleet. Strangely, in Derix’s mind, both of his older brothers began to pursue careers in the military. They’d never talked about wanting to join the Navy, but Derix didn’t question their motives. They were both highly qualified to go into whatever they wanted. Daniel, followed by Larm the next year, was accepted to the Republic Naval Academy at Correllia.
Derix hated being the only child at home. While he’d never been close with his two brothers, being a 14 year old stuck with his parents was dreadful.
The Academy Years:
The Naval Academy at Corellia wasn’t a place known for having the happiest people in the world. The four year program was meant to be grueling and push midshipmen to their limits. If you could survive the hazing and impossible academics, then you could survive any Sith onslaught…..or so the Officers running the Academy believed.
Derix strived at the Academy. He was accepted into the basic flying programs and quickly advanced, showing a natural ability to fly. After being accepted into the Instructor Pilot program during his second year, he tried to spend as much time flying as possible.
Derix, being slightly more reserved and focused on becoming a pilot, didn’t get along with his roommate Matt Zethka at first. Derix thought Matt was an idiot and a gym rat. Matt was popular, spent most of his time at the gym, and was a ladies man. It wasn’t uncommon for Matt to have a different girl each month for the first two years at the Academy. Derix focused his efforts on school and flying. Matt thought it was comical Derix was still a virgin at the age of nineteen.
During the second semester of their time at the Academy, Derix and Matt were placed into the same Stellar Navigations class. The course, taught by a young and newly promoted Lieutenant Krypt Bayton, was hell. The overly harsh Bayton singled out Derix and Matt after he believed he’d caught them talking during his lecture on the first day of class. Soon, despite their best efforts, they were the only two failing the class and were getting punishments piled up from Lt Bayton.
As they went through their punishments and mandatory study sessions, the two overcame their original dislike and were soon enjoying their time together. By the end of the semester, despite their hard work, Matt and Derix still failed the class. However, they’d built a bond of friendship which would serve them for years to come.
The next semester, when Derix and Matt were able to take the class with a different professor, they had the two highest grades in Stellar Navigations the Academy had seen in years.
Most midshipmen at the Academy had to change several roommates during their four year stay. After the second year, each midshipman is assigned to a different squadron, effectively rotating who you saw and interacted with each day to mimic changes in duty station and deployments the Republic Navy faced. Luckily for Derix, his best friend and roommate moved to the same new squadron simply by luck. Matt and Derix were able to remain roommates for all four years of their studies.
Despite their incredibly close friendship, the pair made fun of each other on a consistent basis. Derix was on the receiving end of many jokes involving his failures with women and Matt received endless comments on both his less than stellar grades and his failure to pass the basic flying class, dooming him to a career as a ship station operator.
By graduation, Derix was being awarded Distinguished Graduating Honors and had received his first assignment for pilot training, the New Republics premier fighter squadron training squadron, the Black Jaguars, at Coruscant.
The Flying Years:
Derix’s assignment to the Black Jaguars was a dream come true. With days lasting sixteen to eighteen hours, the squadron’s sole focus was to make elite pilots for the Republic Navy. One of the few squadrons which learned directly on the Republic’s most advanced models of the Aurek fighters, the Black Jaguars were the envy of almost every other pilot training squadron in the Galaxy.
Derix’s pilot training class, 56-U74, was one of the most successful in Jaguar history. The 11 student pilots proceeded through pilot training having never failed a ride – a feat a class every five to ten years accomplished. Derix’s best friend during pilot training and his wingman for most close maneuver flying was Ensign Jain Tarmar.
After a year and a half of grueling training, Jain was ranked #1 and Derix was ranked #2. The two moved together to their new squadron, the 75th Fighter Squadron based out of Coruscant. The 75th was the one of the premier fighter squadrons of the Republic Navy, being assigned to the Republic’s Flag Ship, The Democracy, during deployments. Additionally, with their Aurek fighters being equipped with hyperdrive, the squadron performed missions directly for the Republic Naval Council.
The first deployment of the squadron had been uneventful. The Admirals were reluctant to send the main fleet deep into a hot zone. While the 75th felt the Admiral was being skittish, no one really complained too much.
When they returned from Coruscant, the 75th threw a huge party for a successful deployment, despite seeing no action. As the newest pilots had to drink the most, Derix and Jain got absolutely hammered. After hours of drinking, the two stumbled back to their apartment. However, with only two blocks to go, the pair was stopped by a pair of young, cloaked thieves. After demanding money from the drunk pilots, Jain was stripped of his watch, a heirloom of his grandfather.
Jain, sobering up slightly as he realized the importance of the item being taken, attacked. Derix jumped the other, slightly smaller thief. Within two minutes, Derix and Jain were bloodied….but their won back their wallets and Jain’s watch.Despite their best attempts at stopping the bleeding, Jain’s broken nose required skill beyond the two pilots. Derix and Jain took a shuttle, which they left several pools of Jain’s blood on, to the Emergency Department of the Courscant Regional Medical Center.
That’s where Derix met Jena Merix, a medical resident pulling the graveyard shift at the ER. Derix, who’d never been one with women, was immediately fascinated by Jena. Her looks. Her knowledge. Her degrading look at the drunken pilots. He was transfixed.
Derix flirted with Jena the whole evening. Originally, she wrote him off as another drunk fly boy who’d come back from deployment, but soon felt something else was there. Derix asked a Jena out for dinner and drinks. For the first time ever, it worked. Within two weeks, Derix slept over at Jena’s apartment. He knew within months there was no other woman for him in the Galaxy.
[To be very much continued....]
RP Sample:
“You should keep off of it for at least a week.”
Derix Cole lied back on the small table at the news. “You know I can’t do that.”
“You will as soon as I order you to.”
Derix gave out a large sigh. He absolutely hated when he couldn't meet the operational objectives he’d been given, when he couldn't complete the mission. He looked up at the physician standing above him, smiling brightly. He felt his disappointment flood away from him as he stared into the rich blue eyes of the woman. “Are you ordering me as my wife or as my physician?”
Jena Marix-Cole couldn’t help but hold back a laugh. “Which one are you more afraid of?”
“I’m not quite sure,” Derix said sarcastically. He watched as his wife turned around and walked towards the counter, writing notes into his personal chart. As her fingers ran across the small touch screen, he couldn’t help but be amazed by her beauty. Her long white coat ran down to her feet.
“You need to be on a consistent steroid for at least a week to cut the swelling in your knee. I’ll talk to your Execs so they remind you to take it once every eight hours since I know you won’t remember by yourself. You shouldn’t run for ‘at least’ a few days.” Derix could tell she hurried the next few words, “I’m also grounding you from flying.”
That, though, was one step too far. He pounced. Leaping from the small table, he came from behind his wife, picking her up quickly. He spun around with her in her arms and slammed, his intention was a light slam, her onto the small table he’d just been lying on.
“This is why I don’t ask you for medical help,” he murmured softly before kissing her.
She pulled away from his kiss with a broad smile. “Too bad Fly Boy, I’m the best doc in your whole fleet.”
“You’re damn right you are…” his words getting cut off by yet another kiss.
The two didn’t get much alone time together anymore. Either he was out on a tour with the Fleet or she was traveling with the Governor of Coruscant. Her love of medicine and empathy for those suffering had moved her quickly through the ranks of medicine on their home planet of Coruscant. She’d been asked by the Governor himself to move into the public’s service as the Chief Physician of the Governor. She felt the job would not only allow her to give more medical aid to the planet she loved, but potentially effect policy for the entire Core.
Jena loved it all, the politics, the opportunity, the travel. All the things Derix couldn’t stand. He hated going to the promotion ceremonies throughout his own Fleet, much less meeting with politicians on a daily basis.
In an interesting twist of fate, however, the Governor was traveling to a nearby sector of space as Derix’s portion of the Republic fleet. While potentially dangerous, Jena had travelled with the Governor and then taken a personal shuttle to come and visit her husband on the Orion. They did anything to spend even a few hours together.
Derix ran his fingers across the scrubs his wife was wearing under her white coat. Even after having two children, she was in arguably better shape than he was. He pushed up her top inch by inch.
A tone rang through the room as the lights switched from their standard white to a dark red hue. A claxon screamed.
“Battle Stations. Battle Stations. Sith Fleet Approaching. ETA 8 Minutes. Battle Stations. Battle Stations.” The familiar voice of Colonel Matt Zethka delivered no emotion, just a calm declaration of fact.
He knew his wife shouldn’t have visited him this far out from the Core.
Derix jumped off the table and quickly buttoned his tight, grey tunic and walked to the door of the small examination room. As he neared the door, he felt a hand on his shoulder pull him back. Derix turned and looked longingly at his wife. She looked entirely calm and accepting on his duty to leave for the bridge. She brought her hands to his chest and rubbed the one Admiral pip he wore over his heart.
“Go get ‘em Fly Boy.”
Derix leaned in and kissed Jena one last time before turning and walking out the door.
____________________________________________________
The bridge of the Orion was a true mastery of design and engineering. The room was shaped like a half circle, the front entirely reinforced transparisteel. At the highest point was the Commander’s chair, and the rest of the room flowed from beneath it. Positions of importance, such as Tactical and Engineering, were raised along the outside edges. This allowed the Commander and his First Officer to communicate directly with these positions since they were at eye level.
To a stranger, the current state of the bridge would be madness. Orders being shouted overlapped each other, reports from Officers were yelled back with equal ferocity. While only fifteen Officers were needed during a normal duty shift on the bridge, during combat twenty-one staffed positions and six other Officers waited in reserve. This allowed both a redundancy in decision making for the different departments, but also provided extra bodies in case of injuries. While the entire ship would be destroyed if the bridge took a direct hit, if individual consoles overloaded or if an Officer was knocked unconscious during an attack run, the “on deck” Officer would be ready to take over the position.
“Admiral on deck!” a voice shouted from behind Derix. Instantaneously, the chaos stopped. With the exception of chirping consoles and the weak radio transmissions coming through an Officers’ headsets, the bridge was silent. Every individual was at perfect attention, many starting directly at Derix. While he hated the pomp and circumstance, he could see the pride each of his Officers had by being assigned to this ship, under his Command. He wasn't going to let these people down.
“As you were,” he said quickly. The chaos immediately returned.
Derix walked up the series of wide steps to the chair at the center of the bridge. A tall man, with a head of black hair, stood next to the chair. It was his good friend, and old Academy roommate, Colonel Matt Zethka. The Colonel’s arm bulged, bringing the fabric in the sleeves on his tunic to the breaking point. This was not a man to mess with.
“Sir, the Fleet has all reported in. The Venture still has maneuvering engine problems and The Carpathia was half way through an electrical system upgrade to her port IC’s when the EAB fired. We’re about four out now. I’ve got the HMF forming and have brought the HVGs into position.”
Derix’s mind immediately started putting the scenario together. The Emergency Attack Beacon had detected an incoming fleet’s warp of space-time and had sounded the alarm. The Fleet was ready but one of the Capital ships, the Carpathia, had no power to its port ion cannons leaving its flank vulnerable. One of the smaller supply ships was having engine issues. A basic tactical formation, called the High Maneuverability Formation, had been established and the six middle sized ships, known as High Velocity Gunboats, had formed along the periphery of the formation.
In all, the 35 ship Fleet was ready for the oncoming attack.
As Derix spoke, every Officer on the bridge instantly responded. “Have The Aggressor move to cover the Venture. If their hyperdrive is still working have them start calculating a jump. Have the Carpathia move its inclination to negative three seven and move alongside the Orion. We’ll take their vulnerable side and place it right on our ass.”
A voice, one that he recognized as Lieutenant Synthia Carps, called from his left side, “8 of 12 launched. 26 of 38 total.”
Good. Eight of the eleven fighter squadrons have already been launched from the Orion and twenty six from the entire fleet. For years that had been him. He’d commanded countless fleet defenses from his cockpit. He watched his fighters move away from the ships, looking like little flying bugs. He longed to be flying one of them.
But that wasn’t his job anymore. His fleet’s subfighter commander, Lieutenant Colonel Yakay Nahr, would have that job today. Because the EAB had fired, the surprise the Sith Fleet was expecting had been lost. Derix’s fleet, while not knowing the size of their enemy, had gained the advantage. With its guns primed at the entrance vector and its fighters launched, they could immediately begin attacking the capital ships of the Sith Fleet. That alone would buy them a minute or two. The Sith, who’s fighters will still need to be launched, would also lose the precious seconds in the beginning. His fighters would immediately begin targeting the launching Sith fighters and their hangers. If they got into position quickly enough, they’d squash the Sith as they were launching and before could fight back. If they could cut the fighter support, the Sith capital ships would be left vulnerable to a multilateral attack.
Whatever engineer developed the EAB was about to save a lot of Republic lives, possibly including Jena’s and his own.
Derix sat down in his chair as the ship stopped rotating, The Orion’s main batteries becoming fixed on the hyperdrive vector of the approaching fleet. He thumbed a button on the console on the arm of his chair.
“Fleet Commanders, listen up. We didn’t pick this fight. Listen closely to firing orders and keep your distance from the Orion and the Carpathia. We’ll be doing some interesting maneuvering up here to keep her port IC’s fixed on our tail. Good luck.”
Immediately, the lights on the opposite chair arm representing the ships under his command began to blink. The Commanders were acknowledging his message. It may be the last time he spoke to several of them.
His Commanders, his people, were ready for battle.
With a flash of grey and red, the Sith Fleet exited hyperspace and descended upon the Republic Fleet. Derix immediately knew they were at the disadvantage in terms of size. His three major capital ships were up against the Sith’s four. In total he was probably outnumbered by five or six ships.
He shouted over the chaos of the bridge. “Get the registry numbers of those ships back to Command.” It was important the Republic know which ships were here. If this fleet had come from the defense of a planet or shipyard, a well-timed counterattack could be critical to the long term success of the war.
Derix surveyed the scene quickly as blue and red began to streak across the space between the two fleets. His fleet had the superior firing position, for now. The next two or three minutes would be critical. If his ships could be positioned correctly, he’d be able to win this thing even though they were outnumbered.
“Bring the Apollo to three three mark seven eight” he shouted. “Bring The Leonidas up to the upper left flank.”
“Sir, it’s the Agamemnon,” shouted one of the Officers sitting in the Communication’s pit. The name brought a chill up Derix’s spine. The Agamemnon was the Flag Ship of Admiral Krypt Bayton, one of the leaders of the Sith Navy.
Derix shot a look at Colonel Zethka. They would be fighting one of their old Academy professors today. A professor that Derix had especially distained during his time at the Academy after failing one of classes taught by then Lieutenant Bayton. The man was one of the meanest naval officers Derix had ever met, no wonder he’d defected to the Sith.
“Concentrate all fire on their gunboats. I want them taken out before they target our fighters,” Matt Zethka shouted to the weapons officer.
Derix refocused on strategy. The Sith Fleet was concentrated in a formation similar to the letter V. It was a common naval siege tactic. Attack in a central formation and try to tear the enemy fleet apart by punching straight through. Not only was your enemy cut in half, greatly reducing their ability to maneuver and position, both the port and starboard batteries of the Capital ships would have consistent targets. However, if executed poorly, it was a risky move. Once you initiated the attack, you had no way to back down or escape until you punched fully through the enemy fleet. Additionally, you drew extra fire to the Capital ships.
This was a gauntlet Derix didn’t have to be an Admiral to know he’d be on the losing end of He was about to completely change the game. “Bring the Orion and the Carpathia to full port.”
“Wait, what?” Matt Zethka shot back. He recognized how loud he’d questioned the Admiral’s orders. He spoke quieter, “Sir, they’re directly attacking.”
Derix knew that’s exactly how everyone in both fleets was thinking. “Bring the entire fleet to full port,” he repeated calmly. Despite his initial reaction, Matt Zethka passed the orders down the chain to the Operations and Navigations positions on the bridge. Once an order from Derix was repeated, Zethka wasn’t going to question them.
Derix spoke quickly, explaining his rationale. “They’re attacking with full force, trying to wedge us apart. We’re not going to let them. My goal is to turn their fleet into the shape of an arrow, and then drive us down one side of it. Once we move past the tip of their fleet, one side of the arrow will have to shoot past their own ships to hit us. That might take some of their ships out of the game completely as they move to reposition. We’ll only be fighting half their fleet.
He could see as Zethka began to realize the plan. The muscular Officer took only seconds until he was shouting orders to the Tactical controllers. The entire fleet began to move to one side of the Sith’s approaching arrow.
“Get me Nahr!” Derix shouted as he picked up a headset sitting on his chair’s arm. He placed it over his head and brought the attached microphone in front of his mouth.
“Yes Admiral,” Nahr’s voice was strained. He and his squadrons of snubfighters were already in the thick of things. “The quick launch gave us the upper hand. I’d say we’ll prevent 20% of their fighters from even launching.”
Derix acknowledge the good information, but quickly responded. “I need you to give me Black squadron. I want them to directly target the Agamemnon’s bridge and harass it. Even if they don’t do damage, I want them to distract the bridge as much as possible.”
Nahr didn’t question the orders. Black squadron disengaged from the fight and flew straight towards the enemy capital ship. Derix looked at his First Officer, “Don’t you remember old Bayton would get easily distracted. He’s going to spend at least a minute or two trying to figure out why I just did that.”
Within minutes the first ships were lost on both sides. The Horizon, one of Derix’s gunboats was annihilated. The ship’s weapons containment facilities had been hit, instantly exploding. The Sith has lost two, a small support freighter and a larger attack spacecraft.
The Orion had taken a bit of a pounding in its effort to protect the flank of the Carpathia. The once pristine bridge now smelled like charred metal and a slight haze filled the large room after one of the engineering consoles had ignited. While a few cables and fallen from the ceiling, the ship was still in perfect fighting condition…and packed quiet a punch.
And then Derix saw it. The Sith fleet was extending itself to try and open more batteries to the Republic fleet. The arrow was extending, becoming more flat. A hole had formed right in the middle of the arrow. The tip was separating from the body of the fleet.
This was his chance. “Colonel…” Matt Zethka had seen it too. They were about to do exactly what the Sith originally planned, attack the center of the enemy fleet. “…order the whole fleet to punch straight across the Agamemnon’s nose.”
“Your move, old man,” Derix muttered below the noise of the bridge so only the Colonel besides him could hear it.
