Yag'Dhul Insurrection: Operation Femto

[Harukei]

Saul held his grandfather's pipe in his hands. His eyes observed the all too familiar notches the wookie artisan had carved into the piece of woshyr wood that had once been sharp but that had faded with time, after being passed from his grandfather, to his father, to his elder brother and now to him after the passing of his brother. In his hands the familiar heirloom was larger, fitting the grander grasp of a wookie than those of a human, even when it had only been used with leaves dried and cured for human consumption and nothing that would clearly be more fitting to the stronger physiognomy of the native people of Kashyyyk. 

The Admiral thought it was a shame. A damn shame that he could not take a whiff, regulations be damned, prohibited it. But his mind had to be placed in what was about to happen. He took solace to simply chew the tip of the pipe, using it as a device to think, review and reconsider as the view port of his ship was the all familiar swirling pattern of blue and white of hyperspace. He leaned against his command chair as the soft rumble of hyperspace continued, as the far too familiar sound of chatter as his command crew went over and over again, checking the readouts of every section of the ship. 

Once the flotilla had emerged from hyperspace a constant stream of chatter invaded the bridge. A steady burst of information began to fill out the built in personal console of his command chair as the ships and groups presented green light in all conditions and formations and all the set plans had come to fruition. Ever growing closer, Yag'Dhul would be present on his view screen and after a quick series of chiming from consoles, the information provided by the sensors came forth with one of the Lieutenants.  

"Fleet Admiral, enemy formation presents staggered line, they outnumber us three to one, their fleet is led by Cruisers, the rest of the ships are frigates and escorts and two orbital defense stations."

He assimilated the information and began to configure his strategy according to what he had previously assembled. The formation of the enemy fleet turned more and more evident, a standard formation coming to use their superior numbers and faster vessels to annihilated the Republic elements. They were too eager, too ready to come for the kill and claim a glory. They had taken the bait very well with the quick assessments of his fighting force. 

"Send in the picket ships and have the main line open a corridor for the initial invasion wave, scramble fighters, standard deployment formation for the fleet!"

In unison the communications officers began to send order, the deployment the Republic forces presented was basic, much akin to a novice than to an actually respected and experienced Admiral, he wanted to believe that he had been making mistakes. 

"Eight minutes for weapons range, sir."

Saul nodded and opened a communication channel with the rest of the fleet.

"Green light, good hunting."

[Zarkan]

"Communications Ready." Lieutenant Yana's soft voice barely rose over the background din of the bridge and the hum of hyperspace to reach Aurora's ears. "All stations report duty ready captain." Aurora gave commander Davion a brief smile and nod before turning her attention back to the holographic display. "Have we gotten ready reports from the Elin, Kikamora, and Tanith?" She asked her XO as she watched the green glowing forms of the Republic battle group rapidly approached the large blue sphere that represented Yag'Dhul on the combat data display. "Yes, the Elin and the Tanith are reporting all green, however, Commander Greyson is reporting that the Kikimora is good for combat, but the doors to one of the missile batteries is still jammed closed." Aurora let out a long sigh. "I had hoped they would have that fixed before we arrived." "Captain, 45 seconds." Aurora lifted her hand and moved the display off to her left side before thanking the navigation ensign for his alert. "Time to find out what the rebels have for us, Gregori."

Forty-four seconds later the wide flat shape of the GRS Hyperion and her escorts the corvettes Elin, Tanith, and the frigate GRS Kikimora burst back into normal space on the far left flank of the Republic battle group along with most of the rest of the 3rd. "It looks like the insurrectionist purchased themselves a rather sizable flotilla, but as long as we can avoid the heavy orbital cannons and being swarmed we shouldn't have much to worry about." Aurora pressed a small button on her command chair to open a channel to the ship's air wing. "Lieutenant commander your air wing is clear to launch take care they have a large number of frigates stay tight to the ships." Without waiting for the reply the young captain switched to the channel set up for the small capital squadron. "Commander Greyson I want the Kikimora to stay above and behind the Hyperion by at least a kilometer. Commander Witkens and Kalinka I want you to set a picket out in front of us keep the small craft suppressed, but don't go chasing any of the capitals unless I give the order." After receiving affirmative responses from the rest of the ships in the squadron she turned her attention to her own crew. "Helm, take us ahead at two-thirds power but keep us within twenty kilometers of the main force. We don't want to get swarmed by ourselves out here."

[Ghostie]

The endless swirl of blue and white streaks that foretold hyperspace had encompassed all of the visible space outside of Kol Gedyc’s cockpit for the last few hours. Most found it an awe-inspiring sight, especially if they have never left their homeworld before. It foretold adventure, excitement. Something new was on the horizon. Some got lost in the movement of the lighting, her mind reverting to a blank slate as they stared out and into the hypnotizing effect. Those Spacers who traveled the hyperlanes their whole lives simply shrugged the phenomenon off, after awhile.

The Jedi Master of a particular Aurek had slept.

More correctly, Kol had entered a sort of Jedi hibernation trance. To the untrained eye, he would have appeared asleep, or perhaps even deceased. Instead, with the help of the Force most of bodily functions had been slowed to a near standstill. It was a good way to pass long hyperspace flights in the cramped quarters of a starfighter. And Kol had insisted on taking the trip in his starfighter. He hadn’t wanted to get caught up in the hustle and bustle of fighters scrambling out of hangar bays and pilots running to and fro across flight decks as they tripped over droids and hoses. When the Jedi had told the Navy brass about his plan, they all but shrugged at him. So Kol took that as his green light.

But now a proximity alarm started blare across the control panel of the Aurek, a small red light blinking in sync with the tone. They were going to drop out of hyperspace soon, and the auto-navigation feature would be shutting off. Along with this, a static-laced voice started to cut across the ship’s comm, a Lieutenant that was helping organize the starfighters, announcing their imminent arrival. All these noises collided into a crescendo that eventually roused a groggy Kol. Yawning a bit and licking his dry lips, the large man stretched his neck as the effects of the hibernation trance started to fade away slowly. The best way he found to describe it was like waking from a deep sleep after days of rest, even if it had only been a few hours.

In a moment, the Jedi’s Aurek lurched and Kol was pulled slightly against the straps that crossed his body. The blue-white of hyperspace spiraled away, and the battlefield laid before him instead. Yag’Dhul hung below, along with its powerful moons, the barren surface showing the Republic flotilla it’s sun-lit side. Kol had dropped out just below the Anenke, Admiral Saul Tailon’s flagship. Checking a few systems after the hyperspace travel, Kol checked in with the Lieutenant whom had been trying to raise him, and then set off. Gripping the control yoke with both of his hands, the Jedi Master punched the throttle as he skimmed along the cruiser’s underbelly, gliding up and over the side to mesh with the mass of fighters exiting the hangar bay like it was a well-practiced maneuver. Switching the comm to a squadron frequency in his helmet, Kol checked in with the fighters he had been given charge of.

“This is Blue Leader, all wings report in.”

“Blue Three, standing by.”

“This is Blue Seven, standing by.”

And on and on the other pilots went, checking in with the Jedi Master as the formed up on the lead fighter’s stern, rocketing towards the front of the fleet, but still far enough behind the picket line to not given any cause for alarm. Kol had been given more than one squadron to look over. With a temporary rank of Commander in the Navy, the Jedi have been given command of a whole fighter group, Group A. Their job was to run as interference and distraction for the boarding parties aiming to take control of the orbital defense stations. The group consisted of a handful of squadrons that was mostly interceptors and multi-role starfighters, and from the looks of things, and the sound of officers barking in his ear from the main cruisers, they were going to need every fighter.

The enemy fleet was massive. How the rebels had gathered such a force in so little time, Kol wondered for just a moment. But the cockpit of a starfighter only a few minutes away from trading cannon fire with an enemy was far from the place for wandering thoughts. Nonetheless, the man’s eyes went wide behind the orange-tinted transpirasteel of his helmets eye protection when he saw the expanse of the opposing force.

“Remember, Group A - Nothing fancy. Our job is to get the cargo docked intact. Stay with it as much as you can. Don’t fly off trying to chase a kill.”

Kol knew he was talking to veterans, mostly. A few young guys, but everyone knew their place and purpose. Yet the Jedi Master also knew that in the heat of a dogfight, purpose and reason flew out the window. The reminder was unnecessary now, but probably more than necessary in just a few more moments. Scanning the flotilla for the shuttles that were little more than cargo pods which were carrying the Republic’s special forces, Kol formed up just above them, and the starfighters and shuttles rocketed away together. The picket line came in closer, now, as Kol kept those under his command just behind it. Once they met the enemy, Kol, Fighter Group A, and the shuttles were going to make a break for the orbital defense stations, which were now floating along somewhat below the fleet and out towards the enemy.

“Just a moment until the picket line is in weapons range, Blue Leader.”

A voice, Blue Two, came over Kol’s headset.

“Wait for them to be fully engaged, and then break off.”

As if his words ushered in the first volley of laser blasts, the Jedi Master’s cockpit lit up with intense flashes of green and red light traded back and forth between the two lines. There were no sounds or vibrations, but with the eruptions of fire and tearing of metal, Kol could almost hear it anyways. The effect of the lasers was as if he was standing far too close to a display of fireworks, and even the tinted eyewear he had couldn’t filter out all of the lights. Giving things just a moment as the fleets focused on each other and not the fighters, Kol spoke into his comm.

“Now!”

The Jedi’s Aurek did a smooth barrel roll over the shuttles, and the rest of the fighters followed suite as they led the way down towards the defense stations, keeping slow enough so that he could cover the shuttles, but just fast enough to engage the menagerie of fighters bearing down their direction. The planet of Yag’Dhul hung right before them, now, one of it’s moon’s just off of it’s shoulder, as if chasing it’s larger relation. And in the foreground was that swarm of enemy starfighters, with no real formation or goal, other than to defend what was wrongfully theirs.

“Let them pass between us, and keep heading for the station. If they head for the flotilla, there’s plenty of other fighters to deal with them. Red Squadron, keep an eye out for any that circle back around from behind. Gold, stay on the shuttles. Blue, let’s clear a path.”

As Kol spoke, he juked his fighter back and forth, and the first laser blasts aimed his way started to hail down from in front of him.

[Harukei]

Lances of green and red turbolaser were exchanged in the distance. Flashes reigned close to the red and khaki hulls of the Republic Flotilla, whilst missiles flew and exploded in blossoms of flame and smoke and shrapnel in the cold void of space. Fighters flew like daggers, trailing one after the other in search for prey as bombers flew with the same agility of a slumbering Hutt. Ships massive enough to be as large as several city blocks trailed at each other like two predators seizing the other over the remnants of a prey, only to enter into a slug match as shields flickered on the opening salvos and continued fusillades of plasma beating the particles that made shield become under the rhythmic pelting of turrets. 

Amidst the thousand different symphonies of war and chorus of the bridge crew as they ran order, statistics and commands through hushed whispers and loud barks. Saul sat his eyes peering at the glowing orb that represented the ongoing battle, on the flicker of the scaled ship representations as his and the Givinian fleet entered that deadly dance. His lips barely moving as he gave sound and quick commands to correct, reinforce and order a pressing maneuver that did little but to maintain the status quo of the battle even on the increased aggression by the defense fleet as slowly they were pushing the elements of the Fourth into a slow retreat thinking that victory was on their grasp.

Truly, had he ever been blessed with the ability of dance, the Admiral might have said that the fleet formation had been poor in grace and form, like a dancer that had poor coordination of his lower limbs, or with a center of gravity not to par of what a movement needed, or simply that the retreat was like a spin in the air by a delicate ballerina that would soon found herself crashing against the floor. On some circumstance a Commander would try to regroup, reorganize and make a focus attack. In other circumstances a commander would have done the sensible thing to making a tactical retreat to save his battlegroup. 

A part of him wondered whether his counterpart considered this. If the mathematics behind his or her actions told her to be bolder, more aggressive. Loosing salvos of turbolasers against the lumbering and crippled ships of the picket line that had done their duty so well. He leaned against his command chair as frigates and destroyers slowly retreated, with a trial of debris and at half speed that their specifications gave. Time was now of the essence and just as he thought about that. His datapad buzzed and he took a hold of it. His fingers keyed the password and the encryption key needed. A cursor began to blink in an out with a green hue before an uplink was established and a message began to appear. 

$: TORPAL, PACKAGE HAS BEEN DELIVERED AND SECURED. ORDERS?

Saul read the message several times and began to key his own response, remembering the exact wording that the special operations squads had requested him to use.

TORPAL: TEND TO PARTY GUESTS.

It was all he needed to say. He looked at Ensign Morr manning one of the communication stations. 

"Ensign, send word to Vice-Admiral Suurgav, mark zero minutes and thirty seconds for party entrance."

"Yes, Sir."

And now he would need to wait. 

---

Fleet Mistress Pendor Isen had to say, she was disappointed. Disappointed that her challenge had been so underwhelming and over hyped that at the very least she had thought that someone that had been so bold, and had received so many accolades that at the very least it had deserved a very detailed study of all his records and battle strategies. It had deserved a multitude of mathematical sequences and equations to consider each and every strategy he could come up with, all with a certainty that numbers could provide. 

But the newly christened Fleet Admiral, this lowly human, Saul Tellion... or Tallion was it? Had the skill and subtlety of savage when wielding his fleet. If this was the best that the Republic could muster, then yes, the Sith had been right all along. The time of the Republic had come to an end. And with it she would have a more lofty post than simply leading her homeworld's defense fleet. 

"Fleet Mistress, the Republic Picked line is in full retreat. Shall we pursue?"

There was no direct answer, not as she began to process the information and double check each mental operation and permutation of the formulas that so the answer would be the same. Mathematical certainty came back and told her that the Fleet Admiral would either retreat, which would leave the invasion force cut off, or fight to the bitter end and have his ship be taken. The closest thing of a smile that a Givin could make with the leathery and rigid features of their cranium, gave a smile. 

"I predict there is a ninety-seven point percent that they will retreat. Let us blast their ships and show the galaxy the weakness of the Republic. Redirect shield energy to forward batteries across the fleet from our shields. Increase fire rate for a forty-five percent."

Fusillades of fire began to boil over the void space between the fleet and the Republic invaders. 

"Victory is ou-"

A loud bang rocket the ship, lights flickered as consoled chirped and cascades of lightning began spring from cabling and coupling sections. Pendor had flown from her command desk and rose, disoriented by the sudden shaking of the command fridge. 

"REPORT!"

She yelled among the confusion and smoke that filled the room. 

"Fleet mistress, we have lost three escorts! The Ship is crippled, we have lost thrust by seventy-two percent. We are venting atmosphere through decks four to nine. Sealing bulkheads."

Pendor did not understand, no ship made it pass her blockade, what would have taken her perfect strategy apart? It made no sense. Voices called again, one after the other bringing multiple news that had soured the victory into a bitter defeat within seconds. 

"Fleet Mistress, out own star bases opened fire! Shall we retaliate?"

"Fleet Mistress, the Republic's fleet has rallied! Orders?"

Overwhelmed she tried to run the calculations, to come up with something as she felt a sliver of her own blood run from the top of her elongated skull. It could not be. It simply could not be, she had him beaten. But before anymore lamentations could come a final stab of ill news came and her blood ran cold. 

"Fleet Mistress, we have new signatures coming from hyperspace. Republic IFF tag."

Then she realized. She realized the whole plan. The Fleet Admiral had been the anvil all along and as she saw the reinforcements in the shape of another massive flotilla, she had realized that the hammer soon would fall. 

[10Tickler]

People always, well...-Almost- always, hold the Jedi to such high, unusual standards. Prior to the War, they were supposed to be these weird, mysterious figures, shrouded in traditions and esoteric rules, aloof and yet empathetic, a walking, talking bundle of contradictions. So maybe, just maybe it was these sorts of thoughts that Drove Jon'arichi'kotokk to volunteer for Service to the Republic's Naval fleet on their mission to Yag'Dhul. Maybe, perhaps, that was why, instead of spending his time locked away on a bunk somewhere, deep in a trance-state, the Jedi Knight had instead spent his time with the Flight Crew he'd been assigned to by Naval Command.

The why's of such decisions were beyond the Chiss Jedi's capacity to actually care. He'd chosen to volunteer for this, one of his first solo 'missions' since attaining the rank of Knight, for the sole reason of preventing more loss of life. If the Insurrection led to Yag'dhul seceding from the Republic, then other systems would surely follow, leading to another war, and even more dead. More mothers and Fathers who would never see their sons and daughters again. The mere thought left a sour taste in the Blue-skinned Jedi's mouth.

He'd spent the time in hyperspace aboard the Carrier going to briefings, eating mess with the people he'd be flying alongside. He'd gotten to know them more and more. The flight commander's daughter was doing excellent in her education. The second-in-command's wife was an amazing cook. In all of this, Jon'arichi'kotokk, or 'Chiko' as he'd requested the Squadron call him, learned about the lives of the people whom he'd most certainly be going into battle with.

When the klaxon sounded, announcing the commencement of combat maneuvers, Chiko knew where to go, what to do. Knew that the Flight's Mechanic crew would have run through the pre-flight checklist already, and as he moved to his ship on the flight deck, once the squadron had reached it, he waved to the grease-stained team and their droid. “Hey! All good?” he asked, as casually as possible, and upon receiving an affirmative, he lept upwards, using the Force to bolster his jump, to grab onto the cockpit of the IN-29 Banshee interceptor he'd been assigned to.

It was a sleek ship, Fast and well-designed for Dogfighting in space, slipping into the seat and affixing the restraints, he donned not a helmet, but a com-band instead, listening as the Chatter died down...these pilots were professionals, after all. “Alright Squadron, Call in and Move out” the Flight Commander ordered, to an ordered list of callsigns. Near the end, Chiko chimed in. “Green 7, Standing by.”

Then the order came, and in a burst of acceleration, each Interceptor lifted from the hanger floor, and through the atmospheric shields, into the cold Void of Space.

[Ghostie]

What transpired in the next few seconds was a pure form of chaos. The sort of chaos only found on ancient battlefields, when armies would charge each other with spears, swords, and shields. These days the spears were in the shape of laser cannons, and the shields in the form of rays and deflectors. The battlefield was among the stars. But the principles were still the same; engage the enemy, keep moving, and keep fighting. Kol pushed the throttle for his Aurek starfighter all the way forward with one hand, as he kept his other hand on the control yoke. While the enemy laser blasts could not be heard from the inside of his cockpit, the thin transparisteel that kept the Jedi Master from the endless void was awash with a multitude of colors, mostly bright limes and fiery reds.

The starfighter shuttered some, both under the increased speed and the verocity of the blasts that Kol juked his way through as he let the Force guide his hands, trusting it and his instincts to see him through to the otherside of the throng. But there was no otherside. The enemy starfighters were as numerous as the capital ships themselves, which in hindsight the Jedi Master supposed made sense. Though he had been firing into the approach maelstrom already, Kol renewed his efforts. Before, it had been more to ward off fighters as he stayed with the shuttles, to try and clear a path as the fighters would seemingly part for them. Now, the Jedi Master was looking to enforce the fact that he was looking for a path, no matter how it was made. Sighting in an aging interceptor that was coming right for him, Kol squeezed the trigger on his yoke a few times, the red light bursting forth from his Aurek as the other fighter was hit and spun away.

“This is Gold Four, I’m hit - !” bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt

“Blue Seven, I’ve got three of them on me!”

“I’m sweeping in behind you, Red Five, stay steady!”

The Jedi Master’s helmeted comlink had been buzzing with activity ever since his fighter group had entered combat. Mostly, it was the pilots talking among themselves as they worked together to survive the onslaught, and Kol had to give it them; these squadrons were talented pilots. Ever since the starfighters had engaged each other, Kol had felt the pinpricks in the Force extinguish one by one. A pilot there, in a fiery ball of explosion. A collison here as two pilots met their fate. But it was impossible to tell which side had the most losses, yet. Nonetheless, this was the first he was hearing about his own men being in some more serious trouble. Barrel rolling about after the most recent fighter he had shot down, the interceptor, Kol flipped the Aurek over to see that the shuttles carrying the Republic commandos were rather unmolested, surprisingly. It seemed the enemy was more concerned with fighters, than losing their orbital stations.

That's what you got when hiring mercenaries to supplement your revolutionary army.

Flying past the shuttles at a vertical angle and adjusting his throttle, his cockpit towards the transports as he passed, Kol rose on the aft end of the shuttles to find Blue Seven in a near instant. The Aurek was no unlike Kol’s own, save for the blue stripe running lengthwise across one of their s-foils. And they did indeed have three enemy fighters on their aft section, a collection of mismatched models that one would never really see in the same squadron. Punching his throttle once again, the Jedi Master made way to save his fellow pilot. His Aurek flipped over into the procession of starfighters, bringing up the rear, and the Jedi Master took aim.

The first enemy fighter, closest to Kol, that was, was something of a cross shape, with a cockpit on one end of the “T” that the s-foils made. It was heavily armed and armored, but not very maneuverable or quick. Adjusting his throttle to match that of the fighter as Kol pursued, the Jedi Master fired a few times. A few bolts from his lasers cannons glanced off of the ship’s armor, but a handful fell true, and right into the cluster of engines in the middle of the fighter’s s-foils. It sputtered smoke and flame out into the void of Space as it’s thrust died. The ship’s forward momentum carried it further, but no more once the energy ran out. The next two fighters were of old interceptor makes, not unlike the ones the Sith Empire used to use at the height of Darth Revan’s power. They split off upon seeing their heavily armored ally dead in Space, and away from Blue Seven. Kol’s fellow Aurek rolled off to rejoin the shuttles, and the Jedi Master pursued one of the interceptors.

“Thanks, Blue Leader. They really - ” bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt

Kol fired on the last interceptor, and the fighter erupted into a ball of flame, which his own Aurek nimbly doged through. As he came out the other side, however, Blue Seven’s transmission cut off. The Jedi Master looked over just in time to see an enemy fighter, a strange craft with two long nose pieces stack on top of each other and a large cannon in the middle, fly away from an erupting fireball were Blue Seven should have been. Grimacing, Kol dove to make after the fighter, which turned towards the shuttles after scoring it’s kill. But the shuttles carrying the Republic commandos were already docking with the orbital platforms.

“Blue Leader, this is Blue Two. Shuttles are attached and cargo is being delivered.”

Blue Two’s feminine voice reached Kol’s ears over the comm in his helmet as both he and the strange enemy fighter pulled up and away from the orbital platforms, skimming the surface as they chased one another. The Jedi Master fired, and the needle-like fighter would expertly dodge. He’d try to loop back around and catch Kol in their own crosshairs, but the Jedi Master would already be juking away. After a few moments of this the rest of Blue Squadron, their primary objective completed, settled in with Kol to chase down the stubborn enemy pilot. But as the enemy grew outnumbered, he ran off. Kol and the rest of the Blues stayed by the orbital platforms until they were sure that the stations were captured.

As if on cue, the stations opened fire in a brilliant show of red barrage, and the enemy fleet was cut down to ribbons. The Jedi Master couldn’t help but smile a bit.

“Red, Gold, stay with the stations and guard them from enemy fighters and boarding attempts. Blue, form back up. We’re going to see what sort of havoc we can wreck on the enemy’s ships.”

Flipping his comm over, Kol found the same Lieutenant whom had woken him from his hibernation trance, the officer stationed on the Aneke.

“Lieutenant Hersch, inform the Admiral that since the orbital stations are ours, I’m going to let the enemy be aware of my presence. And see if we can get some fresh fighters, preferably from the reinforcements that just dropped out of hyperspace, to cover us. I believe there’s a Jedi in one of the squadrons. That’ll do. Patch them into my comms when they’re on their way.”

Without waiting for a response, Kol punched the throttle once more, and blasted off towards the confused, hampered enemy fleet. The rest of Blue Squadron was behind him, a few fighters short now, but hungry and eager, especially given the part they just played in capturing the orbital stations, a major win for the Republic fleet. As the Aureks reached the rebel’s main forces, starfighters buzzed and frigates and corvettes turned to run in opposite directions, none paying the new squadron any mind. It seemed that after the intense barrage from the stations and the appearance of the Republic’s reinforcements, the fleet was in mass confusion, and splitting apart.

But there was one ship that wasn’t fleeing, nor had taken serious damage. Out on it’s own, in the front of the turning vessels and still looking towards the Republic’s forces was a large frigate, tall at one side and narrow in the middle, with a thin spine that connected the hull to it’s engines.

“That one, Blues. It’s one of the only ships not crippled, and we’re going to change that.”