Table of Contents . . .

TO : COMBWSZEPHYR
FROM : COMMILFLT
SBJT : Re: TF TYPHOON
DATE : 2680.357; 1800 HOURS ZULU TIME

Long-range probes, DSSS, recon, and SWACS flights have detected a large force of Kilrathi and Unknown vessels approaching Confed / Union of Border Worlds / Landreich Republic space. Task Force Typhoon is to rendezvous with other UBW forces in the Alcor System. Hostilities are likely.

The UBW Navy Second Fleet and the Free Republic Navy is to delay this invading force to provide Confed with enough time to respond in force. The Kilrathi fleet must be delayed at least two days. Confed homeguard forces from surrounding systems will assist with the intercept. No Confed fleet assistance will be available.

The unknown ships possibly belong to a new faction called the Galactic Empire. As you know, we have been comparing notes with the flagship of the New Republic that entered our space along with this new faction. Be aware that the aforementioned large faction of the Kilrathi Assembly of Clans is clearly acting in an alliance with this Galactic Empire. Observed performance matches Intell provided by Confed. See attached specifications. These ships are to be considered a Class 1 threat.

Craig, I’ll be straight with you about this. We’re probably looking at another invasion like the one in 2668 with the potential for it to be considerably worse. The Kilrathi are throwing everything they have at us and, frankly, we weren’t ready for it. Our probes have detected, aside from these new ships, a dreadnought plus dozens of lighter warships ranging from corvettes to heavy cruisers. There may even be a carrier or two.

I also think you’re entitled to know why we’re staging our intercept in Alcor, instead of Hellespont. There are three reasons. First, Alcor lies in the shortest path between Kilrah and Earth, and the enemy’s most likely route. Secondly, Alcor is a jump point nexus, allowing our forces to move around the sector quickly should the Kilrathi and their Imperial allies choose a different path of attack. Finally, Alcor itself is still uninhabitable from Kilrathi radiation warheads dropped a decade ago, meaning that there are no civilians to worry about. I’ll see you at the rendezvous point.

Good luck.

Admiral Reginald Keith
Commanding Officer, UBW Second Fleet

BWS ZEPHYR, FLAGSHIP OF TASK FORCE TYPHOON; BRIDGE
THE TORGO SYSTEM: JUMP POINT TO LOKI, DENEB QUADRANT, EPSILON SECTOR
DEC 25 2680/2680.358; 0930 HOURS (CST)

Vice-Admiral Craig Jamison smiled grimly as he looked out the huge viewports lining the bridge. The bow of the Ranger II-class BWS Zephyr stretched seven hundred and forty meters ahead of the bridge, glistening with the red markings of the Union of Border Worlds Navy. Just over five kilometers ahead of that was three of the carrier’s six escorting Sheffield-class destroyers, and barely visible in the distance were a pair of the eight Caernaven-class patrol frigates flanking the task force. The remaining three destroyers guarded the carrier’s stern, with two more frigates beyond them. The last four frigates flanked the carrier, two to each side.

A formidable force, Jamison thought sadly, but not near enough to stop the inevitable. Less than an hour ago, recon units near Freya from the recently-promoted Rear Admiral Hanton’s Battle Group Valkyrie had detected Kilrathi ships jumping into the system. That was just one jump from Alcor. They confirmed the presence of a Kilrathi Dreadnought before they pulled out. The Admiral shuddered at the thought of facing one of those 22,000-meter monsters. If the Kilrathi and their allies have upgraded that thing’s weapons, shields, and armor... Jamison cut that thought off before it could lead to its natural conclusion, ... there’s no way we can stop it.

Jamison bit back a curse. He’d always been a bit of a pessimist, but ever since the Black Lance incident, his grimmer thoughts seemed to finish themselves. Especially those he didn’t want to finish. He shook off the unpleasant thoughts and turned to the crew pit in the middle of the bridge. "Any word from our patrols?"

"Yessir," the young lieutenant manning the communications station reported. "All patrols are in the landing pattern except for Captain Richthofen’s. His flight had a run-in with a few privateers. He says that they wish to join up to help stop the Kilrathi..."

"Hmmm. Very well, they may come aboard, but they must keep their guns off-line, and they have to dump their ordnance," Jamison replied, frowning. They don’t have to know that we can’t stop the Kilrathi, not yet at least. "How many fighters do the privateers have?"

"Eight, sir," the ensign at the sensor board piped. "Four Talons, three Demons, and a Centurion."

"Inform Captain Richthofen that he’s authorized to ride his afterburners all the way back. We’ve got to get a move on."

BANSHEE 401, EN ROUTE TO BWS ZEPHYR
0935 HOURS (CST)

"Roger that, Zephyr." Captain Frederick "Doppler" von Richthofen quickly switched channels to speak with his whole flight. "All right, everyone, ’burners to a thousand and autoslide to conserve fuel." He waited until the three members of his flight acknowledged, then switched channels again and repeated the orders to the civilian ships flying in formation ahead of him.

Two minutes later, they were on final approach to the Zephyr. "All right, privateers land first. You’re lower on fuel than we are. Talon Flight, stay sharp and watch their ordnance drop." Less than a second later, explosive bolts on the privateer fighters sent their missiles and the Centurion’s ordnance load spinning away into the void of space.

"Olympus Lead," the transmission came from the Zephyr’s flight control, "You are cleared to land." Everyone held their breath, waiting to see if the civvies would hold to their word. The Centurion slowed and lined itself up with the rear of the carrier. It slowly closed the distance until the Zephyr’s tractor beams caught it. The privateer cut his throttle and let the tractor beams haul the 75-meter fighter in. The Centurion’s landing gears locked down, and it landed with a light thump on the deck.

Everyone watching released a collective sigh of relief. The rest of the pirate ships landed without incident. Meanwhile, Captain Richthofen marveled over the sheer gall that it had taken to build the Zephyr. It amazed him that the fast carrier actually worked, as it was essentially a cut and paste of two old Ranger-class light carriers. It was considered a "Ranger Mark II"-class "medium carrier," though it was to be the only of its kind. The comparatively small Second Fleet of the Border Worlds Navy had the need for a carrier that could get from system to system quickly and have enough firepower to make a significant enough difference.

The Zephyr was the result, and what a result it was. Four hundred thirty-one meters longer than a Ranger-class light carrier—the same class as the infamous TCS Victory—she could carry ninety-six fighters and six shuttles. The lower two engine naicels were replaced with triple-engine naicels like the one on the top of the ship. They had then added three more naicels, opposite those in place. A bustard intake and generator section was added to the port and starboard sides between the upper and lower engine naicels. Where the conning tower had been on the forward Ranger hull, a second launching bay now sat, used mostly for utility shuttles and cargo loading. A pair of laser turrets flanked the main landing bay, preventing internal strafing runs that were so lethal to carriers during the Kilrathi War.

Overall, the Zephyr was the deadliest carrier in the Border Worlds, rivaled by only the FRLS Mjollnir in the service of the Free Republic of Landreich Navy and the new UBW Arcadia-class fleet carriers. With eight squadrons of fighters, fourteen laser turrets, shields that rival a Blackmane-class starbase and the speed of a destroyer, there were few ships that could match her. Her only weaknesses being a Yaw/Pitch/Roll of 2/2/1 Degrees Per Second, and less structural integrity amidships, where the two Rangers had been joined together. The later of these was compensated for with huge reinforcements that ran a quarter to three-fifths the length of the ship. The former weakness was a result of stress limits imposed by the latter.

Frederick von Richthofen smiled and concentrated on his approach as his turn to land came up. He was careful as ever to avoid the engine plumes that surrounded the landing approach. He slowed to twenty KPS as he came within a hundred meters of the carrier. He maintained that speed until the ship’s tractor beams caught his fighter. Richthofen then cut his throttle and lowered his landing gear. A few seconds later, his Banshee Mark II touched down with a light thump. He sighed and shut down his engines. The towing carts would take over from here.

"All hands, brace for jump," blared over the loudspeakers as he stepped into the elevator along with the privateers. Richthofen grimaced in preparation for the jumpshock. He wasn’t disappointed. The jumpshock was just as disorienting and nauseating as ever. After they all gathered their wits and stomachs, they stepped out of the elevator and headed for their debriefing.

BWS ZEPHYR; FLIGHT WING BRIEFING ROOM
THE LOKI SYSTEM, DOWNING QUADRANT, VEGA SECTOR
EN ROUTE TO ALCOR JUMP POINT
1150 HOURS (CST)

Vice-Admiral Jamison stood before the ship captains and squadron commanders of Task Force Typhoon’s flight wing. Looking into their experienced eyes, he knew this wouldn’t be easy. He steeled himself before beginning. "I know you’re wondering why we’ve been ordered to Alcor." Jamison waited the dramatic second to let their attention focus. "The Kilrathi, and a new ally, have launched a new offensive. It can be compared to the 2668 invasion after the false treaty, except this time Confed has sufficient ships to repel them. They only have one problem: their forces are spread out over bulk of the Confederation. We on the other hand, do not have sufficient strength to stop this force, but can get most of that strength together quickly to intercept the Kilrathi. Therefore our job, and that of the rest of the Border Worlds Second Fleet, is to delay the Kilrathi attack as long as possible, and ‘as long as possible’ has to be at least two days. That’s the minimum amount of time Confed will need to prepare their defense.

"Reconnaissance of the Kilrathi fleet has indicated a large, undetermined number of corvettes, five Fralthi II cruisers, a couple Fralthra cruisers, at least three Ralari II heavy destroyers, two Kamekh-class destroyers, approximately a dozen light destroyers, a pair of old Snakeir-class carriers, and a single dreadnought." Jamison paused to let the news to sink in and the murmuring to die down. It was like they were fighting the Kilrathi War all over again, and they all knew it. "While this force is powerful, these are what are going to cause the most trouble." The display changed from the Kilrathi ships to those of the Galactic Empire with a silhouette of an Tallahassee-class cruiser for comparison. There were several gasps as skippers and squadron commanders realized the scale of what they were looking at.

"My God!"

"How could we possibly hope..."

"What is that?!"

Jamison raised his hands for silence. For all the good that would do... "Look, I understand your reactions," he coaxed. "I went through them a couple of days ago myself. But let me tell you, we have the advantage here. Confed has sent complete technical readouts on all of these ships to us. All we have to do is decide how we will attack these things. There’s one more thing." He paused as several images came up of tiny fighters bearing solar panels. "These are their fighters, and a fair number of them are completely shieldless." He watched with satisfaction as his people began to relax.

"Any questions before we start?"

"Yes, sir. Rumor has it that the Midway is on the way to Vega, if it isn’t here already. Are they going to assist us in delaying the Kilrathi and their allies?" That was Captain Ramous of the destroyer Winchester. Jamison suppressed a grimace as the question lit a spark of hope in everyone’s eyes; a spark he had to extinguish.

"Unfortunately, no. The Midway was reportedly undermanned and has returned to Earth to complete its fighter wings and Marine complement, and to add to the Confederation’s defense. For the past month its been busy personally heading the talks you’ve probably been hearing about on the TNC with delegates of this New Republic, escorting their flagship ‘Mon Calamari Star Cruiser’ and ‘Nebulon-B frigate.’

"Is that everything?" Jamison waited to give the others a chance to ask questions; no one else did. That’s okay, he thought, there’ll be plenty of questions when I’m finished. "Very well, we know how to handle the Kilrathi. We should—we’ve had over four decades of experience with them. I suggest then, that we start with how to take out this brute here," a picture of a huge arrowhead shaped warship took up the screen. "Confed Intell calls this an Imperial II-class Star Destroyer."

"That’s a destroyer? Hate to see their battleships."

"How come? I doubt one could fit through a jump point."

"C’mon, with fighters like those, they need big ships."

"Yeah, well, the bigger they are, the bigger the motherfuckin’ blast." That last one was from Lt. Colonel Louis Welch, commander of an Avenger squadron. The room filled with laughter at the fun they were poking at the Star Destroyers, laughter that disguised the fear that all in the briefing room felt. Jamison smiled as morale got back to its usual level and raised his hands again to quiet down the ruckus.

"All right, all right, we’ve had our fun. Now, let’s get down to business..."

BORDER WORLDS FLEET RENDEZVOUS POINT
THE ALCOR SYSTEM, ROBERTS QUADRANT, VEGA SECTOR
2680.359; 0430 HOURS (CST)

The carriers, frigates, corvettes, and transports of the Border Worlds Combined Fleet sat fifty thousand kilometers from the jump point to Freya, awaiting the return of their fighters and the fleet’s destroyers and cruisers. Those ships, on the other hand, were heading back toward their respective task forces at their maximum speeds after laying the largest and thickest minefield in the history of warfare: a little present for their Kilrathi aggressors. All they had to do now was wait.

They didn’t have to wait long. One hour and thirty-two minutes later, space twisted with a strange pseudomotion as the warships of the Galactic Empire jumped out of hyperspace... well clear of the mine field. Jumping in along with them were dozens of TIE Defenders, TIE Phantoms, Missile Boats, a few TIE Advanced/Avengers, Star Wings/Assault Gunboats, Vaktoth II heavy fighters, and eight Kilrathi corvettes. A second later, every ship in the Border Worlds Fleet went into action.

"RED ALERT! RED ALERT! ALL HANDS TO BATTLE STATIONS! ENEMY SHIPS HAVE ENTERED THE SYSTEM! THIS IS NOT A DRILL! I REPEAT, THIS IS NOT A DRILL!"

Frederick von Richthofen was out of his bunk and in his flight suit before the alert had finished its first repetition. He dashed into the pilots’ ready room and took his seat, struggling with the crowd of pilots trying to do the same thing. Things settled down quickly as they waited for Colonel Fitzgerald to finish his meeting with Vice-Admiral Jamison. A couple of minutes later, the Colonel appeared. "All right, this is the situation." He stood to the side and a map of the system, centered between the Border Worlds and Imperial fleets, appeared. "The Imperial Fleet has jumped into the system, and has taken up position here, thirty kilometers from the jump point. Their fighters and the Cat corvettes are clearing our minefield, no doubt so that the Kilrathi’s big ships can jump in. "We were counting on the mine field to slow down the fleet and inflict heavy casualties. Well, this just isn’t the case any more. The entire fleet is moving to engage these Imperials before their fighters can clear the mines. As long as that field’s there, the Kilrathi are stuck in Freya or have to take another route that will delay them several days. I assume you’ve all read your briefing packages on these Imperial ships. Well, our first objective will be to hurt or kill these smaller ships..." Pictures of the fleet’s two dreadnaught-class heavy cruisers and Victory-class Star Destroyers appeared on the screen. "This ought to chase them away from the jump point. Also, remember to stay away from those Lancer frigates! They are dedicated anti-fighter platforms and will eat you for breakfast.

"Any questions? No? Very well then, get to your ships!" With that, the room cleared quickly. A couple of minutes the hangar and flight decks were swarming with pilots and ground crews.

Captain Frederick von Richthofen stepped up to his crew chief, Daniel Caloway, who handed him his helmet. "She ready, Dan?"

"Ready as she’s going to be. Your squadron’s ordnance is loaded. Im Recs and a pair of dumbfires all around. What’re those dumbfires for anyway?"

"A little surprise for those big ships," Frederick answered with a smirk. Daniel helped him into the Banshee Mk II and ran over the final equipment check with him. He climbed back down and another member of the ground crew held up eight ribbons. Each was attached to an arming pin that had been removed from the missiles on Frederick’s fighter. Frederick gave them a thumbs up. Two minutes later, he and the other fighters of the Zephyr lined the flight deck, warming their engines for launch.

BWS ZEPHYR; BRIDGE
0945 HOURS (CST)

On the bridge, Vice-Admiral Craig Jamison waited for their orders.

"Sir!" chimed the comm officer. "Admiral Keith has ordered all ships to launch their fighters and to advance on the Imperial ships."

Jamison looked over at the BWS Princeton, CV-48, a Concordia-class fleet carrier captured during the Black Lance incident that was now serving as Admiral Keith’s flagship. He gave the order without looking away from the nine hundred meter-long carrier, "Launch all fighters. Advance in formation, holding our position relative to the fleet."

"Yes, sir!" The ensign started talking into his headset. Jamison wasn’t listening though, his thoughts were on the past, and on the young men and women who would soon lose their lives. I wonder how many it will be today. How many letters will I have to write? He knew the answer, and it was far more than he cared to admit to himself.

Idly, Jamison found himself remembering the date. December 25th...

Merry Christmas...

BWS ZEPHYR; FLIGHT DECK
0943 HOURS (CST)

"All fighters are cleared for launch! I repeat, launch all fighters!" came through every headset and loudspeaker on the flight deck. Captain Frederick von Richthofen was jammed back in his flight couch as he pushed his throttle to the stops. His Banshee shot out of the Zephyr and eased into a slow left turn, clearing the carrier’s bow.

As his squadron, the VF-14 "Talons," formed up, he took the chance to look out over the Border Worlds’ fleet. The main battle line was made up of 12 cruisers, 26 destroyers, 33 frigates, and 41 corvettes that flew in formation. These were arranged around the carriers: seven Durango-class heavy destroyers, six CVE-class escort "jeep" carriers, the Princeton, and the Zephyr. Trailing them were thirty-eight transports, which were even now shoving fighters out of open cargo holds. Included in this were half a dozen Pelican-class transports. Those were launching HF-66 Thunderbolt VII and Excalibur class fighters that they had brought from nearby Confed system defense forces.

"This is Talon Lead. All Talons, check in!" Captain Richthofen called out.

"Talon Four, ready to roll," responded 1st Lieutenant Seth "Anubis" Milhalik.

"Talon Five, good to go," came the voice of 1st Lieutenant Stephani "Torch" Kozlowski.

"Talon Three here, Kep-tain!" called his female Firekkan wingman.

"Talon Two, all systems go!" responded the ever-cheerful lieutenant leading his flight’s second element. Talon Squadron continued to call in until everyone was accounted for. They then slid into formation with the rest of the Zephyr’s squadrons. Leading the formation were the three Banshee Mk II fighter squadrons. Next were the privateers’ ships and the carrier’s one squadron of F-104 Bearcats. The fighter bombers and torpedo bombers followed them: two squadrons of Vindicators, two of Avengers, and one of the F/A-43 Intruders. All around them, other fighter groups were forming up, preparing to assault the Imperial fleet.

BWS PRINCETON; BRIDGE
1014 HOURS (CST)

Admiral Reginald Keith watched as the distance between the fleets closed. Soon, it would begin very soon. His attention remained on the holo-plot as an officer informed him that the fleet was almost in range. The Imperial ships started to react to his fleet’s approach, and he still stood there, watching the plot. Finally, he heard the report he was waiting for. "Sir! Shadow Flight reports that they are in position."

"Stand by. Do you have the enemy commander?" he asked communications.

"Yes, sir."

"Put him on." Keith waited a moment for the connection. He looked the hologram of a Terran man in an unusual green uniform in the eyes. "I am Admiral Reginald Keith, CINC of the Border Worlds Second Fleet. Your violation of Confederation space is in direct violation of the Treaty of Torgo. Recall your fighters, stand down your ships, and return to Kilrathi space immediately."

"I am Grand Moff Jhediah, speaking on behalf of the Third Imperium of the Galactic Empire... and the assembly of ships you now find yourself facing—some of which you might recognize as your former enemies," the surprisingly youthful-looking man spoke with authority, his face twisting in a tight, cocky smile. "I made our intentions quite clear to our now-allied Kilrathi—now I will make it clear to you. There is to be a New Order in this galaxy, and we are the ones to instill it. In the interest of diplomacy, I will ask you once to stand down... but only once."

"Look, ‘Moff,’" Admiral Keith said, his eyes hardening in determination. "Neither the Cats or the Confees could subjugate us when we were out numbered and out gunned. This time we have the advantage, and now you’ll see just how well the Border Worlds can fight."

"Oh, indeed?" The transmission ended, and Admiral Keith turned to his communications officer.

"Inform Shadow Flight that they are cleared to fire." He watched the Border Worlders approached the Imperial fleet of nine Imperial II Star Destroyers, four Victory-class Star Destroyers, two dreadnaught heavy cruisers, an Interdictor, the pair of Lancer frigates, and the Executor-class Super Star Destroyer Vacillator. He smiled as a flurry of activity broke out among the TIE Interceptors leading the fleet. Their formations arced back around their gigantic wards toward a new, unexpected threat.

SHADOW FLIGHT
1027 HOURS (CST)

Shadow Leader acknowledged the permission to fire, then signaled the rest of his squadron. "This is Shadow Leader. Shadow Flight, arm your fission cannons and lock your wings." He paused while he readied his guns. "Arm your torpedoes, decloak, and attack!"

With a metallic howl, the six Dragon/Lance-class heavy space superiority fighters, also captured during the Black Lance incident, decloaked. Their cockpits were filled with the beeping of torpedoes getting a lock on the Imperial II-class Star Destroyer ahead of them, as well as the increasing hum of their charging fission cannons. The capital ship must not have known what a Dragon could do, for it didn’t even fire at them. Instead, dozens of fighters arced around the mile long warship, spitting green laser fire.

The Dragons held their course as quad-laser blasts danced across their heavy shields. Shadow Leader fired off a pair of Friend or Foe missiles. Each chose a different target. One was a TIE Interceptor, which disintegrated like so much tin foil as the missile punched through its shields and the shrapnel and shockwave from the missile impacted with the tiny sphere containing its cockpit and engines. The other target was a three-winged TIE Defender. The unbelievably fast and agile craft easily dodged around the missile and destroyed it with a well-placed quad-laser blast.

Shadow Leader whistled in appreciation, but kept his attention on his weapons. He activated his com-system as his fission guns finished charging and his torpedoes locked. A predatory grin lit up his face as he gave the short, deadly command, "Fire!" The six Dragon pilots released their triggers simultaneously, sending six pairs of crackling orbs of energy toward the Star Destroyer. A split second later, they depressed their missile triggers, launching a dozen torpedoes toward the rear of the massive ship, as well as pairs of Pilum missiles to quell the harassing TIEs.

The Fission blasts slammed into the Star Destroyers rear shields with enough power to destroy a fleet carrier. The lightning danced across the flickering shields as they failed. A split-second later, twelve torpedoes slammed into the Star Destroyer’s engines. The blue explosion glowed brighter than the sun as it swept forward over and through the ship. The engines were vaporized instantly, and the fireball gutted the ship, following the huge drive shafts to the ships’ fuel supply and huge Solar Ionization Reactor. They detonated like a huge fusion bomb, consuming the ship in moments. When the glow died down, there wasn’t a piece left larger than a breadbox.

The six Dragons tried to cloak and escape the torment of the enraged TIEs. Five of the powerful ships made it, with varying degrees of damage. The one casualty, Shadow Leader, died just after the torpedoes hit the Imperial Star Destroyer. The TIE Defender he had fired at and a Missile Boat had each launched a pair of Advanced Proton Torpedoes into his Dragon’s rear quarter, followed up with laser-fire. His engines and Matter/Anti-matter reactor exploded before he even felt the impact.

Bridge crews and fighter pilots cried out in victory as the huge ISD disintegrated. The sneak attack proved to the Border Worlders that the Imperials and their huge fearsome ships weren’t invulnerable. Frederick looked out across the fighter formations. All around him, fighters flew in "V" formations, reminding him of footage he’d seen of World War Two bombers. He smiled as the order to attack the lighter ships came over the radio.

"All right, you all heard the orders. Target that VSD to starboard and blast its shield generators." He banked his fighter to starboard and rammed his throttle all the way to the firewall. The eleven other Banshees of Talon Squadron followed him. They reached the picket fighters seconds later. The Talons fired their lasers randomly at the wall of TIE Interceptors passing by.

"God, this is crazy! I haven’t seen this many fighters since the Battle of Terra!" Frederick didn’t take the time to note which pilot had broken radio protocol, as he was too busy jinking and dodging past Interceptors, avoiding a potentially fatal collision.

The same was occurring across the offensive. Hits from the heavy guns sported buy Avengers, Vindicators, and the Confed heavy fighters were killing Interceptors, but with little overall effect. For every Interceptor they killed, there were a dozen more getting through their formations, and heading straight for their capital ships. The Confed Arrows and Excaliburs turned back to help defend the capships, as did the Bearcats and many Banshee squadrons. In the confusion, no one noticed that the Missile Boats and Assault Gunboats that had been clearing the minefield were heading back to the fleet, or the two squadrons of small TIE Bombers circumventing the main fighter battle.

Richthofen flinched as a turbolaser caught his wingman head-on. When he looked back, all that was left was an expanding cloud of vaporized metal, tinted green from refracted turbolaser energy. He felt the blood run out of his face. There was no debris, just that cloud.

My God! What are we up against? Even anti-matter guns leave some debris!

The twelve Banshees, sporting nose art of an eagle’s talons ready to strike, rolled out of formation and ignited their afterburners. They closed on the Victory SD within seconds.

He tried to stay calm as he gave his next orders, "Switch to dumbfires and fire on my mark." Richthofen waited until their range closed to a thousand meters, "Mark! Fire! Fire!" The squadron let loose twenty-two of the most powerful missile that could be mounted on a fighter short of a torpedo. The heavy rockets slammed into the Star Destroyer’s powerful shields, producing a blast nearly as strong as the one that had destroyed the Imperial Star Destroyer. The huge ship’s shields crackled and sparked as they collapsed. Talon Squadron pressed its attack home. "Use lasers and missiles to take out those shield towers! If we can’t take their shields down for good, out cap ships are dead!" With that, he began pouring fire into the 900 meter-long ship’s port shield dome, quickly destroying it.

Maybe we have a chance after all, he thought.

BWS PRINCETON; BRIDGE
1050 HOURS (CST)

Admiral Keith instinctively ducked as a trio of Interceptors finished a strafing run on the Princeton’s bridge. He stood up and called out, "Status report!"

The lieutenant commander at tactical called out, "Shields are holding. No damage reported. All systems functional."

"All ships in Taskforce Magnum, target the Victory Star Destroyer dead ahead and open fire." Admiral Keith grinned as the four heavy cruisers, six destroyers, and six frigates of his personal taskforce advanced on the Star Destroyer. For an instant, the bright blue flickering of the Star Destroyer’s shields failing illuminated everything. He turned to his sensor operator, "What was that?"

"A Banshee squadron took down their shields with a load of dumbfires."

"Sir, we’re within range!"

"All ships, fire!" With that, Taskforce Magnum fired every weapon it could bring to bear. Red laser bolts danced across the arrowhead shaped battleship, and bright yellow antimatter bolts tore huge chunks from the hull. They worked their way across the hull to the command tower, blowing it into so much junk. Without the bridge and central computer to direct fire, the once concentrated streams of turbolaser fire and concussion missiles battering the cruisers wavered and started missing their targets. Talon and Zero Squadrons added to the damage with their leech cannons, rendering the Victory Star Destroyer’s weapons, sensors, engines, and other systems inoperative. Within a couple of minutes, all that was left of the massive warship was a burning hulk, floating aimlessly in space. As internal explosions wracked the hulk, escape pods began jettisoning, ferrying those few survivors to relative safety.

The bombs exploded with the force of twenty dumbfire missiles. The blast penetrated the shields as if they weren’t even there, eating into the armor and destroying the upper sensor and communications array. The shock of the blast knocked nearly everyone of their feet or out of their seats. Momentarily without a helmsman, the carrier drifted into a shallow dive. The break in communications left the individual fleet elements on their own while everyone returned to their stations. Before Admiral Keith could demand a damage report, the second bomber squadron received their signal to attack. With no one at the sensor board, the bridge crew remained unaware of the impending doom, and the bombers released their deadly load of heavy proton bombs.

The Princeton’s shields were still down, and its armor was gone. The bombs slammed into the unprotected hull like the scythe of Death itself. The blast ripped through the hull like tinfoil, punching its way into the flight and hangar decks, where it ignited waiting ordnance and fuel lines. The explosions gutted the ship and breached the fuel tanks and ammo magazines. The resulting blast tore the command superstructure from its mounting and disintegrated the hull and remaining armor, blowing them across space like chaff in the wind. On the bridge, they never knew what hit them. Admiral Keith was still shielding his eyes from the flash of the first attack, when a second flash from the bombs blinded him, and the darkness embraced him.

BWS ZEPHYR; BRIDGE
1054 HOURS (CST)

Vice-Admiral Jamison watched in horrified disbelief as the Princeton disintegrated. Admiral Keith, a friend for many years, and thousands of souls with him, had just been snuffed out of existence. He heard gasps of grief and shock from the rest of the bridge crew. Many people had just lost friends and family on that ship. He turned around quickly. "Communications! Which remaining ship has the best command and control?"

"We do, sir," the comm officer answered shakily.

"Very well. Inform the rest of the fleet that I am taking command of the armada. Also get me the taskforce commanders, were going to reform and hit that Imperial fleet as hard as we can. Call back everything not carrying torpedoes to defend out ships." Jamison shifted his gaze to his sensor officer. "Keep your eyes on that jump point. The Kilrathi may try to come through any minute."

The fleet took only two minutes to re-form their lines and press their attack. The Imperial ships fell back to the jump point, out numbered by the Border Worlds’ fleet and taking damage, but they dealt it back out too. The Missile Boats, Assault Gunboats, and TIE Bombers kept the Border Worlds’ bombers in check while the Interceptors and Defenders fought the Banshees and Confederation Homeguard fighters.

It was obvious that the Imperial forces weren’t prepared for the shear ferocity of the Border Worlders response. They attacked with a suicidal frenzy, every ship focusing its fire on one target until it was destroyed, ignoring the fire tearing at their own hulls. The UBW corvettes dived across the surface of the Vacillator, firing guns, missiles and torpedoes, even though it only took three or four heavy turbolaser hits to destroy them. Several corvettes near destruction dived into the Super Star Destroyer’s shields, using their deaths to weaken their incredible foe. While the Star Destroyers pummeled the Border Worlds frigates that were making desperate torpedo runs on their ships, the Achilles-class heavy cruisers poured anti-matter fire into their shields.

BANSHEE 401
1056 HOURS (CST)

While the fleet formed up and struck at the Imperials, Captain Frederick von Richthofen grimaced at the damage being wrought by the powerful Imperial ships and their tiny fighters. "Talon Squadron, arm Im Recs and fire at will!" A dozen missiles lanced out from the twelve Banshees, nine finding their marks and destroying six Interceptors and three gunboats. Again, the Defenders proved far too maneuverable for the other three missiles.

"All squadrons, break and attack!"

Richthofen grinned wolfishly as the order for general combat came through. "All right everyone, split into your flights and follow me towards that nearest Imperial Triad Squadron!" Triad was the name that the Border Worlds pilots had dubbed the TIE Defender and TIE Phantoms, due to two crafts’ three-wing assembly. "Watch out for those TIE Interceptors—I’m reading shields on them—and stay with your wingman. Tally-ho!"

The eleven Banshees, sporting nose art of Eagle’s talons ready to strike, rolled out of formation and ignited their afterburners. They closed on the Imperials within seconds. "Arm Im Recs and fire on my mark." Richthofen waited until their range closed to a thousand meters, "Mark! Fire! Fire!" The squadron let loose eleven of the most powerful air-to-air guided missiles that could be mounted on a fighter. Only two Defenders and one Phantom were quick enough to avoid the point-blank-range attack. The others’ hulls were crushed like aluminum cans as the blasts punched through their shields. Talon Squadron pressed their attack home. A flight of four fighters chased each Defender and the Phantom, while the last three watched their backs.

Richthofen lined up his shot and fired his quad lasers, taking down the last of the Defender’s shields, which boosted back up to one quarter power before his next shot hit, taking them back down. They must have some way to shunt extra energy to their shields, Richthofen thought, probably from their weapons’ charge. The Defender tried to veer away, but was hemmed in by fire from the rest of the flight. He fired again and the Defender shattered; the three broken solar panels span away from the central fireball. The lone Phantom was then easily dispatched in a barrage of his Banshee’s full-guns.

For a few seconds, there were no enemy fighters near enough to engage. A bright green flash to Richthofen’s right caught his attention. He turned to look and saw a single Achilles-class heavy cruiser attacking a pair of Imperial II Star Destroyers head-on. The cruiser’s shields flared under the battering of ion cannon and heavy turbolasers. After a few seconds, as its shields failed, it veered hard to port, aiming its bow at one of the Star Destroyers, throwing of its fire for a second. The cruiser fired a spread of six torpedoes at the Imperial ship. They passed through the shields and punched a line of fusion explosions down the port of the starcruiser. When the fireballs cleared, a huge section of the Star Destroyer was gone, and the internal structure still glowed from the heat of the nuclear fire that had savaged it.

The cruiser paid the price for its small victory, though. As the torpedoes raced off, the Imperial II Star Destroyer to starboard found its mark on the cruiser’s unshielded side. Over three klicks away, Richthofen could still see the lightning crackles of ion hits and bright green puffs of laser-illuminated vaporized armor and escaping atmosphere. Within seconds, the Imperial Star Destroyer sheared the cruiser in half. The two halves, each only about a third of the ship’s original length, floated off, no sign of life showing.

The fighter battle quickly became a free for all; the Border Worlds holding a slight, but ever widening advantage as the Imperial fighters died and ships were damaged. The Border Worlds’ pilots, upon discovering that their shields were more powerful, were employing ramming tactics against the Imperials that were too maneuverable to shoot, and focused much of their effort into breaking up the Imperial formations, rendering them more vulnerable.

Soon, every ship in the system, Border Worlds and Imperial were trading shots. In the confusion, the Border Worlders failed to notice a single Kilrathi Vaktoth II heavy fighter jump out to the Freya System. Shortly thereafter, the Imperials pulled away from the jump point, leaving it to the Border Worlders. Within a couple of hours, the Border Worlds’ fleet took up defensive positions near the jump point minefield, while the Imperial fleet sat well out of range.

BWS ZEPHYR; HANGAR DECK
1400 HOURS (CST)

The deck was thick with fighters, and many of them didn’t belong to the Zephyr. Every squadron had taken casualties to the Imperials’ small fast TIE craft, or to the Star Destroyers’ turbolaser and ion batteries. Most of the fighters littering the deck had varying degrees of damage. Armor was pockmarked with holes and weapons were slagged. Of Frederick’s own squadron, there were ten pilots left, including himself. The other squadrons of the Zephyr suffered similar numbers of casualties. There were only three privateer fighters left: two Talons and the Centurion. Now the hangars were filled with Excaliburs, Thunderbolts, Morningstars, Broadswords, and Arrows dating back to the Kilrathi War.

Morale was at an all-time low. Intell had really screwed up this time. Those Interceptors were suppose to be shieldless, yet they had shields at least as strong as a Razor’s and sported afterburners, another thing Intell had guaranteed they did not have. There had been no mention at all about those three-solar-paneled craft, which made an Interceptor look like a paper airplane, nor was there mention of those missile boats. They had nearly slaughtered the torpedo bombers while the Defenders and Phantoms kept the other fighters busy. Space was filled with stars, each one of them an exploding craft. Among those was the occasional supernova.

Among the capital ships, the corvettes had taken the heaviest casualties. Fifteen of the craft remained, out of forty-eight. Two cruisers had been destroyed outright, while four others would never see combat again and survive. They had also lost nine destroyers, the Princeton, a CVE-class escort carrier, and three transports. For all this blood, they had bought the destruction of two Victory Star Destroyers, one Imperial II, a Lancer and a Katana-class dreadnaught, as well as scoring hits on the other Imperial vessels, including the Super Star Destroyer Vacillator.

The next seventeen hours were spent watching the jump point, skirmishing with Imperial fighters, and repairing damage. While the Border Worlds had enough fighters and capships to badly cripple the Imperials, their own losses would prevent them from even slowing the Kilrathi when they finally decided to show up. Around 1900 hours that night, a single Defender jumped into the system and, while afterburning toward the Imperial fleet and evading interceptors, sent a burst transmission. The only bright spot was the discovery of Admiral Keith and most of the Princeton bridge crew alive in the wreckage of the Princeton’s command superstructure by a rescue shuttle.

JUMP POINT TO FREYA
2680.360; 0720 HOURS (CST)

All that was visible at the jump point was a slight blue shimmer and thousands of mines. Suddenly, a blinding light formed as the jump point twisted open and a single Kilrathi light destroyer exited the jump point. Space spiraled shut as the warship settled in, colliding with several mines that knocked its shields down and ate away at its armor and hull as it slowed to a stop. It sat there for a second, and then it was engulfed by over a million-megaton anti-matter explosion. The flames vaporized every mine within ten kilometers, and the shockwave shattered and detonated mines for another fifteen kilometers. The minefield was effectively cleared, and a minute later, the jump point opened again. This time, it disgorged one of the most powerful ships humanity had ever faced.

BWS ZEPHYR; BRIDGE
0723 HOURS (CST)

Vice-Admiral Jamison rushed to the bridge as the alarm claxons sounded. Normally, he heeded the unspoken rule that senior officers never ran during a crisis situation, no matter how bad, but this was different. This time they had a Kilrathi dreadnought bearing down on the fleet from behind, with more ships jumping through, and Imperials advancing from the front.

He reached the bridge nearly out of breath. "Status... report," he called out between breaths.

"We’ve got most of our fighters out already. All of our Avengers, Vindicators, and adopted T-Bolts have been given full dumbfire loadouts like you ordered. Our superiority fighters are armed with Friend or Foe missiles so we can take on those TIE fighters without waiting for locks. All battle damage has been repaired and we are ready for battle."

Jamison smiled at his first officer in thanks. "Has the Admiral given any specific orders?"

"Yes, sir. He said, and I quote, ‘Get the hell out from between those fleets!’"

Jamison nodded. "Well, we had better get to it then. Helm!"

"Right on it, sir!" Everyone braced themselves as the carrier swung sharply to starboard.

BANSHEE 403
2680.361; 0738 HOURS (CST)

Captain Richthofen jinked his fighter to port, releasing a pair of decoys. The Advanced Proton Torpedo tracking him veered off and struck the second decoy. He was getting sick of these little missiles. Suddenly there was a cry for help from one of his wingmen. He veered toward the source, spotting a Banshee tailed by a TIE Defender. He grinned ferally and afterburned after the pair. "Why don’t you pick on someone your own size!" he called out over the Imperial frequency and sent several bolts of coherent light into the craft’s shields.

It broke off and quickly glued itself to his tail. "You were saying?" the Imperial pilot gloated.

Frederick engaged his afterburners and activated his fighter’s autoslide. "I said ‘Go find another tin can like yours to shoot at.’" With that, he slammed his foot down on the ships left rudder pedal, swinging it around in just over a second. The Imperial pilot, thinking Frederick was turning, had started to turn to follow, and was still straightening back up from the feint when Richthofen fired a pulse from his lasers followed by a FF missile. The missile punched through the fighter’s weakened shields, sending the Defender’s three crumpled solar panels spinning away from the central explosion. "Listen next time," he said as he shut off his autoslide and shot off in the opposite direction of travel.

He took the opportunity to glance at the Kilrathi ships coming through the jump point. Sure enough there were at least thirty corvettes, seven heavy cruisers, four heavy destroyers, two Kamekhs, and ten light destroyers. Jumping in was the first of the old Snakeir-class carriers. They were old effective ships, but could only carry forty fighters. The first one finished and the second one jumped in. Well, that should be it. Then the jump point opened again, once all of the other ship had cleared it. What the...? Frederick’s heart caught in his throat. "My God! It can’t be... There... there aren’t any more left!" He veered away from the new 1,580 meter vessel finishing its jump. "Control! Zephyr! There’s a... a..." he coughed to stop his stuttering.

"This is the Zephyr. What is it, Talon Lead?"

"A Hakaga! They’ve got a bloody damned Hakaga!" Frederick felt a lump in the pit of his stomach at the following silence. "Zephyr, are you still there? Copy. What’s wrong?" He inhaled sharply as the orange dots on his HUD indicating the dreadnought and Hakaga were blotted out by red dots. "Zephyr! Answer me, damn it!"

"New orders," a new but vaguely familiar voice said tersely. "Cover the bombers on attack runs against the Kilrathi cruisers and destroyers."

"Who is this?" Frederick asked.

"Admiral Reginald Keith, Commander of the Border Worlds Second Fleet," the voice said. "And you are...?"

"Captain Frederick von Richthofen, Talon Squadron, BWS Zephyr," he replied, somewhat mollified. "I thought you were dead..."

"Me, too. Lucky for my bridge crew and I that the superstructure wasn’t, ah, connected right. Let’s hope this refit holds together better than the last one."

The next few minutes were a blur of fury as the Border Worlds ships converged on the Kilrathi line, leaving the Imperials in their wake. Their capital ships engaged the dreadnought while the bombers hit the Kilrathi cruisers. The dumbfires fired in such quantities were more than enough to destroy one of the Fralthi II cruisers and three of the four heavy destroyers. They managed to take out three more light destroyers before they ran out of dumbfires and torpedoes. The whole time, hundreds upon hundreds of TIE Robotic craft launched from the Hakaga, dreadnought, and Snakeirs. Their shear numbers made up for any deficiencies in programming or shielding as they swamped the now badly outnumbered Border Worlds’ fighters. Space was filled with stars, each one of them an exploding craft. Among those was the occasional supernova.

BWS ZEPHYR; BRIDGE
0831 HOURS (CST)

The deck shuddered as another wave of proton torpedoes tore across the shields. There were only a couple of missile boats still attacking the Zephyr. Since she possessed the heaviest anti-fighter armament, most other fighters were giving her a wide berth. They had easier targets to kill.

For a moment the rapid red pulsing on the bridge, caused by the blazing laser blasts constantly firing, was replaced by a blinding flash. "Report!" Jamison called out.

"That was the Winchester, sir. She’s gone," Ensign Ramirez replied sadly. Everyone had friends on these ships, and a whole lot of them had just died. The Zephyr’s escorts were sticking tightly by her side, not giving any open window of attack. Now they were paying the price. "The good news is that we’ve cleared the two fleets," Ramirez said, looking to the Admiral for encouragement, or perhaps just hope.

Unfortunately, there was little hope to be found. The Imperials and Kilrathi, having passed the Border Worlds’ fleet, continued their course toward the Vega System jump point. The Border Worlds needed to delay the Kilrathi by two days, but had held them for less than one. Confed wouldn’t have the time it needed to prepare to defend themselves and everyone knew it. Many personnel on the bridge hung their heads down in defeat, while pilots tried desperately to defend the ships from the Imperial fighters that continued to harass them, forcing the Border Worlds’ ships to retreat to the Loki jump point.

BANSHEE 401
LOKI JUMP POINT
0850 HOURS (CST)

The Imperial and Kilrathi fighters had finally returned to their ships, content to let the Border Worlders limp away. They had beaten them, and would let them worry over their inevitable doom. The Kilrathi at least would be back after their victory over Confed, and they would crush the Border Worlds. More so, they would eradicate the Landreich, the unconquerable thorn in the Kilrathi’s side for so many years, if they hadn’t already.

The fate of all humanity had rested on their effort here, and they had failed.

As the first cruiser disappeared into the jump point, Captain Frederick von Richthofen had an idea: a plan for one last desperate try to slow the Kilrathi/Imperial advance. He smiled as he activated his squadron’s frequency. "Ordnance check. Does everyone still have their pair of Dumbfires?" He waited until he had everyone’s affirmatives. Good, he thought, it just might be enough. He switched channels to talk to the Zephyr. "Admiral, this is Captain Richthofen, I’ve got an idea..."

A minute later, the ten members of Talon Squadron were afterburning toward the enemy fleet. A quartet of picket fighters attacked, but the TIE/Droids were quickly picked off by concentrated laser fire. The Talons closed on the rear of the dreadnought, with their dumbfires armed and leech guns charged. As they approached, they started dodging antimatter blasts and laser fire coming from the dreadnought and its escorts. Richthofen was wearing a feral grin that would make a Kilrathi’s fur stand on end as they closed to 3,000 meters. The aft end of the dreadnought loomed over them like a mountain, and seemed just as immovable. He didn’t pause to savor the moment or to feel the dread welling up inside him, as any hesitation can get you killed. The command was short and terse, "Fire missiles."

Two waves of twelve dumbfires leapt across the distance in just less than three seconds. The first wave slammed into the dreadnought’s aft shields and overloaded them with a deafening boom heard throughout the ship. The second wave passed through the spot where the shields had been and struck the great warship’s engines, immolating a third of them instantly and damaging the entire engineering section. Richthofen then gave the second order, "Fire leech cannon."

The strange pink energy beams lashed out from the ten ships and danced across the dreadnought’s remaining engines, overloading their systems. The Talons had everything but their engine power shunted into their guns’ recharge, and they fired until their capacitors were dry, until the huge engines’ glow died and the behemoth floated dead in space. They fired until they detected the incoming enemy fighters, and then they fled. The dreadnought slowly fell out of formation; it’s bustard intakes flickering out with electrical damage.

"Woo-hoo! Let’s get outta here, Talons!" Richthofen shouted as he pulled out of his attack. The other Talons followed, all at full afterburners. As soon as they cleared the enemy fleet, they locked their autoslide and cut their afterburners. The Talons turned to face any pursuers, but they had too much of a head start for anyone to catch up. Everyone, save a single Missile Boat with an unusual paint scheme.

Talon Six died quickly, and probably never even knew what hit him. It was two pairs of Advanced Proton Torpedoes fired by the Missile Boat. Richthofen ordered the Talons to return to the fleet while he kept the ’Boat busy. There were a couple of protests, but other fighters were on their way. If they all stayed, then they all would die. Richthofen snapped out of autoslide as his squadron flew off.

"Okay, buddy, it’s just you and me," he called, tapping into the Imperial frequency. "Come get some!"

He pulled his Banshee into a tight turn to place the ’Boat in front of him, but it had done the same, and he caught an advanced concussion missile in his forward shields for his effort. He glanced behind him and the ’Boat was on his tail, firing controlled bursts from its single laser cannon. He smiled despite the worry. This pilot was obviously an Ace, and a conservative one at that, having given no taunts while he had the advantage. Despite this, and the flight performance of the ’Boat, Richthofen had the advantage in hardware. He had more guns, more shields, armor,—from what he could tell, no Imperial fighters had armor aside from their hull—he had decoys, and it took four seconds for the ’Boat’s missiles to lock.

The whirling chase continued for about twenty seconds, Richthofen couldn’t out turn the ’Boat, and the ’Boat couldn’t get a missile lock or gun him down. The Imperial backup was almost in range, so he had to act fast. Richthofen leveled off, and dropped a few decoys to shake the boat while he activated autoslide. He faced the ’Boat and fired his last Pilum Friend or Foe missile just as the ’Boat fired a pair of Advanced Proton Torpedoes. All three missiles hit simultaneously. The FF punched through the Missile Boat’s shields and damaged its shields, weapons systems, flight control, and several other minor systems. The proton torpedoes knocked Richthofen’s shields down, damaged his lasers beyond repair, and knocked out his ITTS. He pulled out of the light spin the impact knocked him into and aimed straight at the spinning fighter. He pulled the trigger.

Frederick was surprised to see a duel stream of pink beams tag the Missile Boat. His targeting system indicated the ’Boat had lost all power. He checked his weapons and was irritated to find what he already knew: his missiles were exhausted and only his leech guns remained. He checked the range to the enemy fighters, saluted the Missile Boat pilot, and ran for home.

BWS ZEPHYR; FLIGHT WING BRIEFING ROOM
THE LOKI SYSTEM, DOWNING QUADRANT, VEGA SECTOR
EN ROUTE TO BLACKMANE JUMP POINT
1500 HOURS (CST)

The newly field-promoted Major Frederick von Richthofen sat with the other squadron commanders on the left side of the briefing room. The commanding officers of the remaining ships of the Union of Border Worlds Navy sat to their right. Everyone was smiling. They had done it, and Confed would have more than enough time to prepare their defense. They all came to attention as Admiral Reginald Keith and Vice-Admiral Craig Jamison walked in.

Admiral Keith, who was now walking with a cane, smiled as he came up to the small podium. "As you were." Everyone returned to their seats. "I believe you all know of our narrow success in delaying the Kilrathi/Imperial invasion, thanks in no small part to the efforts of Talon Squadron. But succeed we did, and we have given Confed more than enough time to prepare for the inevitable. From what we have been able to determine by studying gun camera footage and sensor readings, it should take at least four days to a week to get the dreadnought’s engines running again. It will also have lost thirty percent of its speed, further delaying the enemy.

"This gives us another opportunity. We have enough of a head start to beat the enemy to Earth and join up with Confed, and that is exactly what we’re going to do. We’ll continue making repairs en route." The large briefing screen behind him lit up with a jump course map. "We will travel through the Blackmane System to Proxima. From there it’s just two short jumps to Sol and Earth. We will meet up with the Gemini Sector forces in Proxima before we jump to Sirius, where we’ll hold the fort until we’re told to do otherwise. It isn’t over yet, but between Confed and us you can be damn sure it’ll be soon. Any questions, before you return to your ships?"

The skipper of the Littenia raised his hand. "What kind of forces is Confed bringing to bear for defense?"

Admiral Keith smiled. "Well, I’m happy to say that Confed will have most of its new Plunkett-class artillery cruisers and Murphy-class destroyers there, the Midway, possibly the St. Helens, the McKinley, and anything they can pull out of mothballs." Keith looked across his commanders. "Any more questions?" He waited a few seconds more, then concluded the meeting with status reports for each ship. At Sirius, the Border Worlds would bring to bear nine cruisers, five destroyers, four Durango-class heavy destroyers, twelve frigates, ten corvettes, five CVE-class jeep carriers, the Zephyr, thirty-four transports, and one Arcadia-class fleet carrier. They slowly made their way toward the jump point to the Blackmane System and the starbase there, where they would replenish their fighter squadrons from its garrison and take on supplies, parts, and technicians for the battle to come.

No, it wasn’t over yet. Not by a long shot.

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