Table of Contents . . .

F-106A PIRANHA 305
THE DAKOTA SYSTEM, ROBERTS QUADRANT, VEGA SECTOR
D-5 ASTEROID BELT, ULYSSES CORRIDOR, 9 HOURS FROM CHARYBDIS QUASAR JUMP POINT
DEC 29 2680/2680.362; 0405 HOURS (CST)

“Hazard near," came the soft, feminine voice of the AI of Jolene’s Piranha recon fighter, jarring Jolene from her slumber. "Nav 5 not reached. Autopilot disengaged."

Jolene rubbed her eyes, groggily stretching herself out what little she could in the cramped cockpit. A glance out the cockpit revealed the D-5 Asteroid Belt and a glance at her on board clock revealed that she had made good time. "Home sweet home, here I come." After checking to make sure her instruments all read in the green she keyed up her wingman on her headset. "You up over there, handsome?"

After a pause a disgruntled Riley answered, "Yeah, yeah."

"That was some patrol, wasn’t it?"

"Patrol? Sleep detail is more like it."

They were coming up on Asteroid D-344R now, less than three thousand klicks away. The large asteroid was tilted on its side, the station it concealed, New Pegasus Naval Base, quickly becoming visible. As she flew on, Jolene lined the drydock of the station up in her crosshairs, pondering in spite of herself what the consequences would be were the station to be destroyed.

New Pegasus Naval Base was not only the secondary HQ of Vega Fleet Operations and HQ of the Fourth Fleet, it was all that had stood between the Kilrathi and Earth during the Kilrathi War. In early 2654 it had been destroyed almost entirely, though since its restoration it hadn’t seen another serious scuffle, not even during the Black Lance affair.

Jolene’s found her eyes wandering to the swirling blues and reds of the Charybdis Quasar. She looked past the whirlpool of gases and past the invisible black hole lying at the quasar’s core. One’s gaze could almost fall to rest on the gentle blue orb bathed in a soft glow that was Earth. The Sol System... but a single jump away from the edge of the Vega Sector via the Charybdis Quasar, a veritable wormhole in itself.

Jolene pulled her Piranha closer to Riley’s, tightening their slackened formation as they continued heading home. After avoiding one of the smaller asteroids in the belt, she brought up the comm again. "First Lieutenants Jolene and Riley, returning from patrol requesting landing clearance."

"Welcome back, you two lovebirds," came the voice of Comm Officer Robert Gemma. "You’re cleared to land in Bay Seven."

Jolene leaned back, about to let New Pegasus’ ALS take over her fighter’s controls.

"What do you want to do when we get back on the station, hon?"

Jolene groaned. "After the morning paperwork? Well, a sonic shower is sounding real nice about now."

"That an invitation?"

"You know it, babe."

"Hold on a second, lieutenants!" It was Radar Officer Rita Sherryl. "We’re picking up some kind of proximity feedback on long range sensors... it almost looks like something is—"

She saw it on her HUD first—eleven hostile capships directly off her aft. Breaking right, she witnessed the horror in all of its glory with her own eyes, all of them exiting some kind of hyperspace travel.

"Oh god... it’s them."

Them. The Galactic Empire/Kilrathi alliance. Jolene had read the reports herself. The skirmish in the Alcor System the day before had left the Union of Border Worlds Second Fleet in near ruin, with only comparatively minor losses inflicted on the Imperial/Kilrathi side before they reportedly headed for Vega System.

"We’re scrambling all available fighters. Just stay... stay frosty out there."

Damn Confed Intell... damn the TCIS... Special Operations... Telemetry from the Border Worlds put the Imperial/Kilrathi fleet, hyperdrive or no hyperdrive, within the reaches of Sirius System at the edge of Sol Sector... not the outskirts of Vega.

"Damn them... they’re after Charybdis."

Pulling into a roll, Jolene had her first good look at the oncoming fleet. Two capships in Echelon Right formation were evidently spearheading the fleet, now at less than four thousand klicks and closing fast. The first of the behemoths was a Kilrathi Hakaga supercarrier—the same one that passed through the Border Worlds, unless they had another one—and what Intell reports called an Executor-class Imperial Super Star Destroyer.

Taking the time to scan her profiles on all targets, she identified the rest of the Imperial/Kilrathi fleet. Three Imperial II-class Star Destroyers, a single Victory Star Destroyer and Katana-class dreadnaught, two Fralthi II cruisers, two Fralthra cruisers, two Kamekh-class destroyers, one Ralari II heavy destroyer, and two old Snakeir-class carriers.

The Hakaga alone would have been enough to make the jump through Charybdis and devastate Earth. The terrible cost of the Battle of Terra proved that.

"Riley..."

"Yeah," Riley replied, solemnly, silently sharing the grim knowledge of the inevitable that awaited. "I know."

"You ready?"

"Let’s do this."

While the klicks separating Jolene and Riley’s fighters from the advancing fleet of capships dropped to two thousand klicks, Jolene’s thoughts were of her family, her two daughters waiting for her on Leto.

When the first of the hundreds of turbolaser, ion, and flak cannon batteries trained on the two fighters opened up, Jolene was on afterburners and full-guns.

SUPER STAR DESTROYER VACILLATOR; BRIDGE
EN ROUTE TO CHARYBDIS QUASAR JUMP POINT; ETA 8.9 HOURS
0435 HOURS (CST)

Fear, terror, strength. These words described the massive fleet that was heading across the Ulysses Corridor on Sublight and Impulse Drive to the quasar that would take them directly to the heart of the Terran Confederation, Earth. To the Imperials, the fall of Earth—the jewel of the Confederation—would be the first true step in ending opposition to the New Order in the galaxy they now found themselves in; for the Kilrathi in the alliance, it meant not only a second chance to annihilate Earth after the Battle of Terra two decades before, but the avenging of Kilrah.

Aboard the bridge of the Vacillator, Admiral Güthrig, XO of the Imperial Fleet, and Grand Moff Jhediah, Supreme Commander of the Imperial Fleet, knowing they were on the eve of battle, could do little but wait and make sure things were in order. Güthrig approached Jhediah with calm reserve, though it was clear right from the start of his hesitant approach that he was reluctant about something.

"Grand Moff, sir," Güthrig began.

"Ah, Admiral," Jhediah said, turning in his command chair in interest. "Any word on the damage we took during the Border Worlds conflict? I understand we took quite a bit of it during the fighting."

"Yes, sir. As you’re aware, a number of Border Worlds corvettes rammed us... but what the shields didn’t take, our hull absorbed."

"Very well, then. Was there anything else?"

Güthrig rocked back and forth on his heels, obviously feeling awkward at what he was about to say. "Permission to speak freely?"

"Please do. I detest niceties with vehemence."

"When I heard about you coming aboard this Super Star Destroyer to usurp my command, I had my own feelings about you."

Jhediah cocked an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yes. Misgivings. That you were an arrogant, self-indulgent... child. It was bad enough the Fleet was in your hands, as a final insult you had now taken my own command from me. I was willing to serve you, but I did not believe in your methods."

"And now?"

"And now I see I was wrong about you. I am proud to serve under you as you pave the way for a new era of the Empire."

Jhediah gave a half-nod, acknowledging that it was no small feat for the Admiral to admit such a thing. Any further comments on the point would have only made the man feel all the more awkward, and Jhediah didn’t wish to do that. He had anticipated earning the older officer’s respect would have been no easy task, and an achievement in itself.

"Out of curiosity, sir, have you heard from our General Stele?"

"It was my understanding the General was reporting to you."

Güthrig’s face noticeably flushed. "You mean he’s gone MIA? He’s the Air Group Commander of the Imperial Fleet’s flagship—he can’t simply leave!" Admiral Güthrig was angered by the matter. Less than a day since the last skirmish with the Border Worlds task force, and already Stele was gone. With less than half a day to go before the Imperial forces reached Earth, and with the Fleet slowed down by the need to keep pace with those Kilrathi ships still equipped with Jump Drive, this was definitely not the time for their most experienced and proficient fighter pilot to go gallivanting off.

"Calm yourself, Admiral. Let us see if he landed on another ship after the battle." Jhediah’s voice was cool, modulated. With a wave of a hand, he signaled the comm officer to find him.

A few minutes later, the officer was successful. "He’s landing on the Kilrathi Hakaga, sir. His Missile Boat has been cleared for landing in Hangar 19."

Güthrig felt his annoyance rising. "Get the Hakaga commander on the line—tell him that he is to detain General Stele upon his arrival, and—"

The Grand Moff interjected with a harsh and unexpected order, "I’m afraid that won’t happen, Admiral. Not while I’m in command.

"If you had taken the time to research the records like I have, you would have noticed a view things. General Stele isn’t a general—hasn’t been since six years after the Battle of Endor. Since then, his general motif has just been a facade. His title is ‘Guardian of the Empire,’ his true rank is unknown, and he is the last within the Emperor’s Ruling Circle. His decisions supercede mine during any given crisis. He also wears the Mind of Palpatine. He alone may choose the Heir to the Imperial Throne... and there is nothing we can do to stop him—not without betraying the ideals that are the foundation of the Empire’s beginnings."

"I had no idea," Güthrig confessed.

"But enough on Stele. We have just under nine hours till we reach Charybdis... that’s just under nine hours to oversee the final preparations for what will be remembered as the Third Imperium’s baptism of fire."

Admiral Güthrig brought his boots together and saluted, for once with pride. "Yes, sir."

KIS HAVAHN RAS SIVAR
EN ROUTE TO CHARYBDIS QUASAR JUMP POINT; ETA 8.8 HOURS
0450 HOURS (CST)

General Maarek Stele pulled his Missile Boat into the hangar deck of the1,580-meter Kilrathi Hakaga supercarrier Havahn ras Sivar. He allowed the tractor beam to grasp and get locked down into the docking clamps his fighter. He powered down the engines with relative ease and stepped out onto the deck, nodding at the tech crews as he passed.

As hastily as he could, Maarek made his way into the adjoining corridor leading to the next hangar. On his way he passed and observed a squad of Kilrathi Marines, walking side-by-side with a squad of Stormtroopers, both groups brandishing their blaster rifles and Dor-Chaks—an odd and considerably imposing sight in itself. Maarek smiled as he saw a familiar, shapely woman approaching him in a tight, standard Imperial Navy uniform.

"Hey there, Maarek! What’s going on?" Stele grinned at the sight of his old friend. Major General Dara Gloyerv was one of the few female command officers in the Imperial Fleet, and was more than an equal for all but a few of the male ones, too. They had known each other since the Retreat, following the Battle of Endor.

Stele had led a patrol squadron that had stumbled upon her ship, a Carrack cruiser, being mauled by a pair of Rebel Corellian Corvette Blockade Runners. In a swift attack, they had destroyed the corvettes, and then had held the system against Rebel reinforcements for close to twelve hours as the Carrack had limped into hyperspace. Since then, they had been comrades-in-arms, friends, and later much more.

He hesitated a moment, but emotion triumphed over duty. Stele kissed her passionately, slowly, savoring her taste. She pulled back in sudden surprise, inspecting his uniform.

"Whoa there, slick," she said. "Nice uniform, who’d you steal it off of?"

Stele managed a low laugh as they began to walk to the flag bridge of her ship, currently the Havahn ras Sivar. It could carry up to three squadrons of fighters, and had been extensively modified to be mostly automated, leaving lots of room for munitions and supplies.

It had been only by stroke of luck that the Hakaga had been found. As he had heard it discovered, Clan Ragitagha had stolen the then-nearly constructed supercarrier right out from under the late Crown Prince Thrakhath’s nose in the Hari Sector some thirteen years ago without incident, keeping it reserve until the present. It took no tactical wizard to see that the Havahn ras Sivar was one of the principle keys to Grand Moff Jhediah’s strategy.

"I didn’t steal it off anyone, Dara. It is my uniform. Has been since Onderon... fifteen years ago now." He became more serious. "I came here to ask a favor of you. The Vacillator lost a number of its squadrons in the Border Worlds engagement... I require this vessel’s 194th, 195th, and 41st Claw Squadrons." The 194th and 195th Imperial Fighter Squadrons were the best in the Fleet. Started from the remnants of Baron Soontir Fel’s 181st Fighter Squadron, they had a reputation for not letting anyone in below the rank of commander. There was still four 181st veterans left in each squadron, and their craft bore the distinctive horizontal red stripes that had terrorized Rebel pilots for years. The 41st Claw Squadron was the Kilrathi equivalent. Twelve exceedingly adept Kilrathi pilots—members of the Drakhai, Stele understood—flying Tarkhans.

"I’m sure something can be arranged, but—"

"What do the 194th and 195th fly nowadays?" Stele asked casually.

"The 194th is sticking with TIE Defenders. Heavily modified, of course."

"I see. That will be fine."

"Maarek..."

Stele startled, drawn away from whatever state of mind he had been in. "Y-yes?"

"Is there something else on your mind? Something you... you maybe came here to talk about?"

"Dara... do you ever think about home?"

The woman winced, looking at him in a befuddled manner. "Home? What a thing to think of..."

Stele’s gaze didn’t falter. He was serious. "I know."

"Maarek, I haven’t been there in so long... so many years, not even in my mind. I don’t like to think about it anymore. Wherever the Empire has me posted at the moment... that’s my home." Dara looked down. "It’s been easier for me that way. I make myself not remember."

"I remember," Stele said, his words sharp. He was disappointed in her. "I remember Kuan, my world before I was taken away from it and thrown into the Imperial Navy... the swoop races of my childhood, my friends, my mother, Marina... I remember these things because I choose to remember... because they’re something that I will never let anyone take away from me." With that, duty overpowered emotion. Stele unexpectedly turned away sharply, already walking back the way he came while speaking behind him, "See that the appropriate orders are issued to the squadron commanders. Admiral Güthrig will be expecting the squadrons on the Vacillator within the hour."

Dara was left to ponder Stele’s words, murmuring, "I... I didn’t know it meant that much to you, Maarek..."

TCS ST. HELENS; BRIDGE
THE SIRIUS SYSTEM, TERRA QUADRANT, SOL SECTOR
1210 HOURS (CST)

Standing at the front of the bridge, Fleet Admiral William Eisen smiled as the last Border Worlds cruiser made the jump into the Sirius System. The Confed carriers TCS McKinley, Apostle, Kyushu, Valley Forge, and the still-unfinished Midway-class megacarrier Mistral Sea each made up a task force of battle groups assembled from the First, Third, Seventh, and Fourteenth Fleets. Being assigned to patrol the Sirius System in anticipation of the arrival of the Imperial/Kilrathi fleet, the arriving UBW Navy assistance bolstered the Sirius blockade significantly. The Border Worlds’ fleet in-system a grand total of nine cruisers, five destroyers, four Durango-class heavy destroyers, twelve frigates, ten corvettes, five CVE-class escort "jeep" carriers, thirty-four transports, one Ranger II-class carrier, and one Arcadia-class fleet carrier.

Thirty seconds later, two carriers crossed the threshold of the Sirius-Proxima jump point. The Bhantkara supercarrier of the duo could only be one vessel.

"It’s the Landreich, sir!" exclaimed Lieutenant McKnight from her station. "The FRLS Independence... and the Mjollnir."

The CVE-class Independence... formerly the Tarawa, CVE-07; the Bhantkara-class supercarrier Mjollnir... formerly the KIS Karga. "Patch me through to the Mjollnir, Rollins." Eisen’s grin widened as Commander Ted "Radio" Rollins made it so. "Bear, you out there?"

Eisen turned to see the holographically projected image of Rear Admiral Jason "Bear" Bondarevsky materialize. "Admiral Eisen... good to see you, sir."

"And good to see you, son." Eisen had several run-ins with Bear in the Border Worlds systems of Vega Sector when the St. Helens was called upon by the Third Fleet over the last few years, as well as knowing him from when he’d been aboard the Coventry in the old Victory’s battle group. "Oh, hell, you should know better than that by now—call me Bill."

"All right, Bill. You got it." Jason smiled, if grudgingly. "Needless to say, the Free Republic of Landreich Navy has come to assist, courtesy of our humble president, Hans Maximillian Kruger. You see, we in the Landreich may admittedly be a backwards government on the outer fringes of space... but we haven’t forgotten where we came from. We’ll never let those bastards get to Earth. The FRLN can only spare the two carriers, but hopefully we won’t run into anything we can’t handle. Mjollnir and the VF-401 ‘Shadow Cats’ haven’t failed me yet."

"Who’s in command of the Independence?"

"That would be our boy Kevin Tolwyn. Would you believe he’s a rear admiral as well?"

"The Lone Wolf himself, eh? Send Max Confed’s thanks."

"I’ll do that. What’s the game plan?"

"Wait." Eisen shrugged. "High Command is in the process of recalling seventy percent of all carriers in the Navy’s fleets to the defense of Sol Sector... my battle group here has been assigned to this system."

"Everybody here?"

"For the time being, yes. The Kilrathi Provisional Counsel—with Lord Murragh and Chancellor Melek on both sides of the fence—promise Kilrathi Assembly support in the next day or so. They claim to have sent reinforcements of their own en route right now to arrive in Sol from the Epsilon Sector." Eisen made a face. "They want it made clear that the Kilrathi factions that joined the Galactic Empire acted alone, and are, as a result of their subsequent actions, enemies of the Kilrathi Assembly of Clans."

"Damn Cats... they’re just trying to save their own hides," Bondarevsky chimed. "First chance they get for revenge and half the Assembly of Clans runs off with this Galactic Empire."

"We need all the help we can get. I’ll talk to you later, Bear." The two exchanged a salute, and then Bondarevsky’s image vanished. Eisen grabbed his PPC computer and started for the turbolift. "If anyone needs me, I’ll be reviewing tactical in my cabi—"

"Wait, sir! We’ve got incoming!" Commander Rollins shouted. His eyes widened as he looked at his readings, then turned in his chair to Eisen. "It looks like the fleet, sir."

Lurching out of the pseudomotion of hyperspace, the Imperial/Kilrathi fleet made its surprise entrance five thousand klicks ahead of the Sirius-Proxima jump point, beginning with the entrance of the arrowhead-shaped Star Destroyers.

When the fleet was through, it was unbelievable. Tactical counted six Imperial II-class Star Destroyers, one Victory-class Star Destroyer, one Lancer-class Frigate, two Fralthi II-class Kilrathi cruisers, nine light Kilrathi destroyers, and a total of thirty-eight Kilrathi corvettes. Just as it seemed the entirety of the fleet had completed its hyperspace jump, the jump point behind the fleet flashed, the hulking frame of a 22 kilometer Kilrathi Dreadnought pulling up the rear of the Imperial/Kilrathi fleet.

Eisen gazed resolutely at the fleet visible through the viewports, narrowing his eyes. "So this is it," he said. "Right here... right now."

"Transmission from the BWS Zephyr, Admiral," Lieutenant McKnight announced.

The Zephyr? Eisen scratched his head at the mention of the makeshift Ranger II-class Border Worlds medium carrier. "Put it on."

Border Worlds Vice Admiral Craig Jamison appeared in another holographic transmission beside another man. The Vice Admiral addressed Eisen, "One of my carrier’s squadron commanders, the man who did more than his part to delay the Imperial/Kilrathi fleet in Alcor yesterday, would like to speak." Jamison stepped out of the field, leaving only the second man’s image transmitting.

"My name is Major Frederick von Richthofen, VF-14 ‘Talon’ Squadron. You, sir, do not know me, though I am a great admirer of your career since you helmed the TCS Victory."

Well, flattery earned him Eisen’s attention. "Tell me what’s on your mind, son."

"That Imp and Cat fleet we’re looking at right now... together, we can take it. That dreadnought out there... my squadron messed it up pretty bad in Alcor—nearly crippled it entirely—and they couldn’t have done too much in the time since to repair it. A couple surgical strikes on its weakened aft and it should be history."

"I read your CO’s report on the matter this morning, but thanks just the same."

"Ah, just one more thing, sir. That’s not the entire fleet..." Richthofen muttered. "Aren’t you wondering where their Executor-class Super Star Destroyer is? Or that Interdictor Cruiser? Or what about that Hakaga supercarrier? They must have split their fleet somewhere in Loki VI in Vega... planning on attacking Sol Sector on at least two fronts..."

Eisen grimaced. "It does looks that way, doesn’t it? Now there’s not a whole lot we can do about it but hold our own here."

"Understood, sir." Major Richthofen saluted before his projected image faded off, more a showing of respect than anything else.

"If you ask me, sir, this looks like the start of an old-fashioned shit kicking contest," interjected Commander Rollins.

Eisen took his command chair. "Give the McKinley, Apostle, Kyushu, and Valley Forge the greenlight to release their fighter squadrons, and tell the Border Worlds and Landreich vessels to do the same." He glanced at Commander Ryans, the St. Helens’ CAG, who currently stood at attention in anticipation of the inevitable order. "See that the wing and squadron commanders have our fighters deployed ASAP." The St. Helens’ 400 fighters in four fighter wings were sure to do some damage.

"Yessir." Ryans turned for the lift.

Eisen gave a look at Rollins. "A shit kicking contest, is it, Commander? Let’s get kicking."

TCS MIDWAY; BRIDGE
DEPARTING CONFEDERATE HQ STARBASE, JUPITER ORBIT
THE SOL SYSTEM, TERRA QUADRANT, SOL SECTOR
1303 HOURS (CST)

"You’re cleared for departure, Midway. Good luck out there!"

While his comm officers finished their duty, Captain Daniel Wilford watched through the viewports with Commodore Blair and Commander Drake behind him as his megacarrier cleared the docking clamps of Confederate Headquarters Starbase, beginning to depart high orbit of Jupiter as the Midway’s great impulse engines came to life.

Upon recommendation by Commodore Blair, he had been elected commanding officer of the Midway, and had come aboard only two hours previously while the Midway received the rest of its crew, fighter complement, and the first Vampires to come off the assembly lines. The Midway, the first megacarrier, was quite the ship. 1,830 meters and 200,000 tonnes of Confederation fury, 252 fighters in an air group of three full flight wings, and six arterial launch bays. A grade reduction to captain from vice admiral was well worth it. Wilford had expected an average maiden voyage, maybe a quick, scenic tour of one of the outer systems that would give him time to adjust to his new command and give the crew time to get to know their captain.

That wasn’t going happen, and that suited Wilford just fine.

The word had come in of the Imperial/Kilrathi appearance in Sirius, as expected. Fleet Admiral Eisen, CO of the battle group assigned to the system blockade, was in the middle of a full scale battle. "You hang in there, Bill..." he whispered, wishing his old friend luck. Being that the St. Helens itself was designed after the Hakagas that attacked Earth in 2668, he wasn’t too worried for his friend.

Wilford watched through the viewports as the Midway headed back into space, the NRS Defiance and the Nebulon-B escort frigate Liberator taking up formation to its port. A familiar-looking heavy destroyer approached from starboard, flanked by five Plunkett-class artillery cruisers and two Murphy-class destroyers.

"Admiral Ackbar here, Captain Wilford," the Mon Calamarian spoke over the comm, his salamander-like visage appearing over one viewport. "The Defiance and Liberator are ready to accompany you out."

"Thanks for waiting, Admiral."

Ackbar let a sigh, ending the transmission with, "May the Force be with us all."

Wilford stood still after the Admiral’s visage disappeared. "God knows we’ll need it."

"Captain Tamara Farnsworth here, Commodore," a familiar voice spoke a few moments after Ackbar. A woman’s face appeared over one viewport. "On the orders of Space Marshal Deniken, Admiral Rayak, and the Third Fleet, the TCS Intrepid and her battle group are authorized to escort you to Blockade Point Zeta."

"Panther? Panther, is that you?" Blair laughed out loud, stepping beside Wilford. After the Border Worlds incident, the then-BWS Intrepid, an old Durango-class heavy destroyer that had formerly been the TCS Delphi prior to its capture by the then-UBW Militia, had become an escort carrier. It had been used for the hands-on training of Confederation Naval Space Force Academy cadets, similar to how the Tiger’s Claw was when Blair was a cadet. Blair had stayed on as instructor for a few years with Panther as a fellow instructor before Taggart gave him the Armed Forces Committee’s pitch.

"The one and only, Chris." She smiled, not looking a day older than when he saw her last. "Captain Wilford. Good to see you again."

Wilford grinned. "You treating my baby all right?"

"Of course, sir. The Intrepid’s in good hands." Panther looked back to Blair. "I hear you have Hawk on that ship of yours. Keep him in line for me, okay?"

Blair cocked a grin. "I’ll do that, Panther."

"Blockade Point Zeta... is that not in the Weslyn System?" Commander Patricia Drake inquired.

"Yes, it is," Wilford replied.

"At the risk of sounding completely stupid... the Imperial/Kilrathi fleet has already arrived. It’s in Sirius right now."

"A portion of it, Commander," Wilford explained. "Half, if we’re lucky. The main fleet has yet to surface, and the Confed Armada has to fan out in blockades until they emerge. Admiral Eisen’s battle group can hold the fort in Sirius until they do."

Commander Drake grunted. "I see."

"Um, Captain... Commodore, sirs, I think there’s something you should see."

Blair turned a glance at Ensign Jarvis, who looked meekly up at the Commodore. "What is it, Ensign?"

"Some kind of disturbance, sir... anomalous readings in the outer system. I-I don’t know... it could be nothing." Ensign Jarvis hesitated, knowing the last anomaly he had detected and reported to the Commodore had been a 1,255-meter MC-90 Mon Calamari Star Cruiser and a Nebulon-B from a distant galaxy. "But it almost looks like something’s... something’s..."

"Spit it out, Ensign," Blair admonished. "You’re not in the Academy anymore."

"It looks like something is coming through, sir."

Blair narrowed his eyes. "Where?"

"Somewhere past the orbit of Pluto..." Jarvis’ eyes shot open with terror as he brought up more information that confirmed his fears. "I-it’s the Oort Cloud, sir!"

If history was any indication at all, something coming out of Sol System’s Oort Cloud could mean only one thing.

Blair stood back, exchanging a look with Captain Wilford. "Christ... they’re coming across Charybdis!"

They could forget about Blockade Point Zeta.

NRS DEFIANCE; BRIDGE
1325 HOURS (CST)

"The Charybdis Quasar... with Jump Drive, someone can cut a corner through the Ulysses Corridor directly to Sol from Vega Sector," Commodore Blair explained over the comm. "In 2654 I chased an old Snakeir into it when the Kilrathi Empire attempted a direct surprise strike on Earth. Until reinforcements can arrive, it’s up to us to protect Earth."

"Understood, Commodore. We’ll do our part."

Luke watched Admiral Ackbar conclude the grim transmission with his commodore friend on the Midway, considering the situation with a clear and focused conscience. He let a deep sigh, looking within the Force and himself for the guidance and wisdom to see matters through.

Hesitantly, he looked out the viewports. One after the other in almost instantaneous succession, an entire fleet of Imperial and Kilrathi capships became visible on the event horizon, all heading in a line straight for Earth.

Tactical station counted one Executor-class Super Star Destroyer, one Hakaga supercarrier, three Imperial Star Destroyers, one Victory Star Destroyer, one Katana dreadnaught, two Fralthi II cruisers, two Fralthra cruisers, two Kamekh destroyers, one Ralari II heavy destroyer, and two Snakeir carriers. Luke didn’t have to be a tactical officer to know that that didn’t stack good against them.

Leia appeared at his side, R2-D2 rolling behind her and Threepio trying to keep up. His sister’s face was wrought with concern. "Luke..."

It didn’t take the Force to see what was wrong. "Han is fine, Leia, and Jaina, too. Don’t worry about them."

"They didn’t have to go on that mission..."

She spoke of the mission Confederation Special Ops Han and Jaina volunteered for on the St. Helens, a vague mission the details of which Luke wasn’t even aware of to round up the best bunch of mercenaries the galaxy had to offer. "They’re not alone out there. They have escorts..." He thought better of mentioning the name of the "war vet" the Midway assigned the Falcon’s wing, some fancy pilot called "Maniac" Marshall. "Yes they did. They did, and you know it. If we’re going to win this, we’re all going to have to do our part—not sit on our hands while the people of this galaxy die fighting our war."

"Oh, Luke..."

"It’s going to be all right," he coaxed his sister, taking her hand. "Our enemies are great, but we have made ourselves powerful allies. We’re going to win this, Leia. It’ll all be over soon."

"That’s... that’s what I’m afraid of."

T-65C A2 INCOM X-WING AA-301
1339 HOURS (CST)

"Let’s get this shit over with."

General Wedge Antilles chuckled a little at his wingman, Colonel Jacob "Hawk" Manley, instructing, "Just follow my lead and stay sharp."

"Uh-huh."

Admiral Ackbar had managed to convince the CAG of the Midway’s air group and the wing commander of the Intrepid’s flight wing that the Rogue Squadron pilots would each serve as wing leader to one of the two carriers’ pilots. It was for two reasons: one, that Rogue Squadron had a great deal of experience in confronting the Imperial Fleet, and two, that most of the Rogues simply had more combat experience.

Wedge unlocked his S-foils, maxed his speed, and hit his newly-equipped afterburners. He peaked out at 1,312 KPS, a velocity his X-wing had not even achieved in the past with the sacrifice of all shield and laser power to the engines and astromech droid boosting. He confessed to liking it a great deal.

The stage of the battle was set. The squadrons of the Midway, the Intrepid, and the Defiance were about to meet the Imperial/Kilrathi resistance up close and personal.

"Rogue Leader to Rogue Squadron. Report in."

"Rogue Two here," spoke Captain Tycho Celchu.

"Rogue Three reporting in, babysitting my wingman," came Commander Corran Horn.

"Rogue Four alive’n kicking," spoke Lieutenant Gavin Darklighter.

"Stingray alive and ready to lay the smack down on some Imp’n Cat ass," came an unfamiliar voice. Whoever it was, it wasn’t a Rogue.

"Cut the chatter, Confed pilot," Wedge advised, then instructing, "All Rogues accelerate to attack velocity. Pick your targets and keep any bombers off our capships."

The assembled fleet of the Imperial and Kilrathi alliance loomed in the distance, eight thousand klicks away, the arrowheads of the Star Destroyers spearheading the fleet of mighty capships.

Gate, Wedge’s R5-D2 astromech droid, whistled and whined from behind him in its socket. Its words translated on Wedge’s readout screen as, "This doesn’t look good, sir."

Wedge chuckled. "Yeah, well, neither did diving into the second Death Star."

"Bogies everywhere, General," Hawk informed. "Those Kilrathi ships are dropping their starfighters. Gang’s all here, looks like. I’m reading squadrons of Darkets, Dralthi IVs, Vs, VIIs, Shok’lars, Strakhas, Zartoth EWs... fuck, the list goes on... Jratheks, Gothris, Kor’larhs, Gorans, Vaktoth IIs, Bloodfang IIs, Sorthaks, Vataris, and Paktahns... Jesus... and the TIEs..."

Yes, the TIEs.

Sweeping forth was a veritable swarm of TIEs and other Imperial fighter craft, pouring from the Star Destroyers’ innards like hordes of locusts and spreading out in unheard of waves and wings. TIE Interceptors, TIE Bombers, TIE Advanced/Avengers, TIE Defenders, TIE Phantoms, TIE Robotics, Star Wings/Assault Gunboats, and Missile Boats—the gang was all here.

Wedge checked his scopes closely. The Dralthi, Vaktoths, and Sorthaks were heading toward the Confed and Rogue fighters at different vectors. "Let’s take the Paktahns," he decided. "They’re the nearest hostiles packing the biggest payloads." The A-wings, B-wings, Y-wings, E-wings, K-wings, and other X-wing wings could handle their own.

"Wilco."

Wedge targeted and waited for lock on the lead Paktahn wing, currently four thousand klicks off. The squadron of bombers took no notice of the approaching two fighters who had dropped a bead on them and continued on their way to whichever of the Confed/Republic capital ships they were targeting on their bombing runs. The distance between them slipped to three thousand klicks. "Got them in my sights... watch my back, Hawk."

F-109A VAMPIRE 302
1354 HOURS (CST)

"Roger that."

Colonel Jacob "Hawk" Manley loosened up his formation with General Antilles, falling back a few meters. Scanning over the nearby targets, he found two wings of Sorthak heavy fighters had targeted Hawk and Wedge.

Four Kilrathi fighters.

Before the Kilrathi War ended, Hawk had 96 confirmed Kilrathi kills. It was something he was known to brag about. When Blair dropped the T-Bomb on Kilrah and Hawk was left without a war to fight in, he was grimly certain his 96 Cat kills would forever remain four short of one hundred.

"Engaging enemy," Hawk spoke, licking his lips as he cut his ’burners, turned off into a Shelton Slide, and maneuvered one of the Sorthaks into his crosshairs. His particle and tachyon lasers connected with the lead Sorthak’s front shields. Hawk fired off a Spiculum ImRec at the first sound of a lock and was already moving on to his next target. By this time the Sorthaks’ meson blasters were splashing energy across Hawk’s Vampire, forcing him to veer off into the exploding gas cloud that had been the Sorthak he hit with the ImRec. Even as he was preparing for another run, the meson fire pounding at his aft shields, he released four Pilum IFFs, letting the missiles take their targets as he came around once more.

"Coming up on the Paktahns," Wedge reported over his headset. "You need any help back there?"

Hawk grunted, smiling as the cockpit rocked from the impact of a heat-seeker on his tail. "Hell no, General."

"Just checking."

Hawk noted the damage his Pilum IFFs had done—each of the four had hit, and the three Sorthaks’ aft shields were gone.

"Nothing worse..." He brought the survivor of the first Sorthak wing in his sights, who seemed intent on taking Hawk head-on. He let him have it, turning on his axis as he kept full-guns. Hawk’s shields held... the Sorthak’s didn’t. Hawk dove through the debris of the second kill on afterburners and peppered the evading two Sorthaks with full-guns, hitting bare hull with every blast until each of them burst. "... than a ’fraidy cat."

One hundred Kilrathi kills.

"Damn skippy..."

Content and pleased with himself for the moment, Hawk kept afterburners on to catch up with Wedge.

T-65C A2 INCOM X-WING AA-301
1401 HOURS (CST)

Wedge kept his afterburners going, fighting to close the gap between his X-wing and the three wings of Paktahns that were almost within striking distance of the patrolling InSys carrier TCS Bradshaw. The Concordia-class Bradshaw’s turret emplacements and flak cannons were already opening up on the incoming Kilrathi fighters. "Come on..." he rasped, his crosshairs still centered on the lead Paktahn, "... come on..."

His crosshairs went yellow as his targeting computer began receiving a lock. In five seconds he had it. Never letting off the afterburners, he immediately launched an Advanced Proton Torpedo at the Paktahn, following it up with linked fire from all four of his X-wing’s lasers.

Too late.

The Paktahn wings launched their torpedoes. In futility, Wedge targeted and sped after one of the torpedoes, switching to dual-fire as he hoped for a lucky shot.

"Mayday, mayday, this is the TCS Bradshaw! Squadrons be advised we are under heavy bomber attack a—"

And that was all the communications officer managed to get out before the carrier’s hull breached off the starboard side. Wedge counted five torpedoes smacking into and through the shields of the carrier, more than an ample enough salvo to finish the Concordia-class carrier.

"Damn this war..." Wedge veered right, noting he had destroyed the first Paktahn with his Proton Torpedo and laser firing and taking another target. Anger crept into his fingertips as he took the controls now, anger and something else. Something that he hadn’t felt since he signed up for the Rebellion as a idealistic, headstrong Corellian youth with a yearning for Imperial blood.

"The Bradshaw... fuck!" It was Hawk, finally catching up with him and reforming on his wing. "We didn’t make it..."

Wedge opened up on the next Paktahn, fleeing with the others for the cover of the interceptors. "Damn this war..."

KIS VHAS’KARATH; FLAG BRIDGE
EN ROUTE TO PLANET EARTH; ETA: 06:09
1419 HOURS (CST)

From the flag bridge of his Ralari II flagship, Baron Thokkarh nar Caxki watched with delight as the shattered hulk of the distant Terran carrier turned on its axis, well into its final death throes.

"So it begins," he spoke softly, his deep voice almost purring. He turned to his robed Tho’reari, who stood loyally at his side. "ETA to Nak’tara?"

"Six hours, nine minutes."

"Good. See that the Havahn ras Sivar stays flanked and within our protection..."

"Of course, my baron," his robed Tho’reari, Vharvek said. Vharvek was a lowborn, his fur coarse and unremarkable, but he was the most loyal officer Thokkarh could hope for. He had always considered him part of his hrai. "We cannot very well have our Hakaga’s precious antimatter warheads go to waste, can we?"

The gleam in Thokkarh’s eye was Vharvek’s answer. "Years we have waited... and years we have endured. No more. We have cut and blazed a path to their homeworld, and at last we have the means to bring the hairless apes to their knees." He grinned wickedly. "Sivar be praised."

PLANET EARTH; HALL OF THE GREAT ASSEMBLY, WASHINGTON D.C.
THE SOL SYSTEM, TERRA QUADRANT, SOL SECTOR
1432 HOURS (CST)

"You have seen the news. You have read the reports. I now give you President Quinson."

President Dave Quinson, still holding his presidency after twelve years, took the stand from the Master of the Assembly, Senator Taggart. "‘I am the heart of the Confederation,’" he recited ceremoniously from memory after a long pause. "‘A servant of peace... a deliverer of freedom... a guardian of worlds. As I pave the road to victory I shall not fear the enemy, for he cannot conquer justice. As I light the righteous fire of peace I shall hold life sacred... for it is my duty to rise against evil.’ This is the Terran Confederation Oath of Service, an oath written the same day the Articles of Confederation were signed by our founding worlds, the oath every loyal citizen of the Confederation should know in their heart.

"By now you are all aware of the incursion by an extra-galactic force known as the Galactic Empire, and that it has forged an alliance with at least three of the Great Clans of the Kilrathi Assembly of Clans. The Union of Border Worlds has already suffered heavy losses and at this time these enemies’ fleets are fighting toe-to-toe with our own in the Sirius and Sol System. It is no secret what they are after... it is Terra. Sol III. Earth."

President Quinson shuffled his papers and ran his gaze over the faces of the press and civilians. "On this day of December the 28th, it should come as no surprise that the Confederation Senate has unanimously voted for a declaration of war against the Galactic Empire and the Kilrathi Clans in their alliance. God be with us all. Thank you, and God bless."

TCS ST. HELENS; FLIGHT DECK
THE SIRIUS SYSTEM, TERRA QUADRANT, SOL SECTOR
2680.362; 1245 HOURS (CST)

"... in their alliance. God be with us all. Thank you, and God bless."

Han Solo flicked off his makeshift Confed radio, currently on yesterday’s TNC broadcast, and gazed out the cockpit of his infamous 27 meter-long YT-1300 "stock" light freighter, the Millennium Falcon, in awe. The extremely large hangar of the St. Helens was stock full of fighters ranging from every size and shape. Large TB-80A Devastator bombers sitting alongside small Piranha scout fighters.

"Solo here, requesting permission to take her out," asked Solo into the comm.

"This is St. Helens Flight command, you are go for launch, General Solo," responded the comm officer. With that, Han hit the thrusters as the Falcon slowly lifted from the deck of the St. Helens on its repulsorjets and burst out of the hangar from the ship. The Falcon quickly banked around the port side of the supercarrier and whisked past the laser turrets, heading straight on as a pair of fighters quickly were launched from the St. Helens.

General Solo... that was a rank he hadn’t held in fifteen years, not since the year and a half when the New Republic found itself confronted by the cloned Emperor, his fleet, his World Devastators, his Galaxy Gun, and a number of his Dark Jedi involved in Operation: Shadow Hand. Old Lando had actually taken command of a captured Star Destroyer in those days...

Twice Han had turned in his Republic commission since the Battle of Endor. War was never his thing, not even when Leia tamed him out of the smuggling life, but he had two sons galaxies away who might very well never see their father again. He would never forgive himself if he let himself sit on the sidelines when he could make a difference in things.

This morning Han had asked Ackbar for his rank and a mission with a clean conscience.

A F-108A Panther fighter with a F/A-105A Tigershark-flying wingman flew on each side of the Falcon. The Panther pilot clearly reckless in his movements, punched the afterburners and did a 560 degree barrel roll as he slowed into escort pattern. Chewbacca exclaimed a short guttural roar as he shook his head.

"This is Major Todd ‘Maniac’ Marshall here. We will be escorting your... hmph... freighter to the TCS Kristin where we’ll be transported to New Constantinople. You see, our Confederation fighters aren’t equipped with Hyperspace engines, nor Jump engines for that matter, therefore we gotta hitch a ride with the Destroyer," stated Maniac with a sign of resentment. Lieutenant Jean "Stiletto" Talvert sighed in discomfort. Blair had ordered that Stiletto fly wingman for Maniac, officially, to "learn the ropes from a vet," but the truth was it was to "keep him in line" should he get overzealous. Unfortunately, there was little she could do if he had done that anyways.

The trio of ships made with haste towards the Weslyn jump point where the TCS Kristin awaited them. The Kristin, an older 530-meter Tallahassee-class cruiser, had a small hangar bay that was clearly emptied. The Falcon and the two fighters went in one by one as the Kristin activated the jump point. A swirl of life opened up and engulfed the ship as it went through.

As the Kristin went through the space-fabric anomaly known as an Antigraviton Tropic Anomaly (or "jump point"), everything within the ship froze to a stand still. Eyes held open, people bracing for the jump, all frozen in a odd effect of space time for a few seconds before the effect subsided and time restarted itself all at once. Minutes later, as the Kristin exited the point, several of the crew lurched in dizziness that was known as jumpshock.

Han, Jaina, and Chewbacca shook off the massive discomfort that the jump created and walked out onto the deck of the cruiser. The old cruiser had made it clear that it was involved in many a conflict by the burn marks on the hull. Han frowned as he noticed that the cruiser was not like the rather clean deck of the Midway or the Defiance. Instead it was a dirty, oil-slicked mess.

"Quaint," Jaina remarked, nodding around her as she brushed aside a strand of her brunette hair. So much like her mother, yet so much like Han. She had always taken after him.

"Yeah..."

"Ugh... this is not exactly the cleanest place in the galaxy," exclaimed Stiletto as she exited her Tigershark.

"Hah, you shoulda seen the TCS Victory after the Battle of Blackmane," Maniac interjected. "That place was real shit sty—we had a Hellcat berth set aside for spare parts."

"Must of been a hell of a battle," Stiletto said.

"You have no idea. First there was this wave of Darkets, then there was another wave of bombers..." Maniac silenced himself as he noticed Han and Chewbacca. He sized Chewbacca up for a moment. "Hey, hey, hey. Alien cats... birds... now dogs. Shit, now I can say I seen it all. No offense."

Chewie whined, befuddled. Han was equally confused. "Dog?"

The hatch opened up and a medium-height, dignified officer with a pair of silver bars on his collar walked out. He was a lieutenant, albeit, a Navy lieutenant, but a lieutenant none the less. A lesser grade to the higher ranking Maniac, who was a major in the Space Force. The lieutenant walked up to Maniac and Stiletto.

Stiletto, knowing that she was a lesser grade than the Navy lieutenant, saluted crisply. However, Maniac chose not to give the same courtesy. The lieutenant returned the salute and started to speak.

"Good day, pilots. I’m Lieutenant Jacob White and welcome to the Kristin. Please come with me and I’ll show you to your quarters. Oh, and... please bear with us. We do have a light skeleton crew and I..."

"Where’s my salute, Lieutenant?" interrupted the Maniac defiantly.

"Major Marshall. I believe you know that, being that I am the captain of this ship, I don’t salute anyone under an admiral. Not even if he’s a higher rank than I. So kindly refrain from asking that question again or you may get back in your fighter and fly to New Constantinople yourself. I have no time to waste," replied the lieutenant. Maniac turned bright red and popped off his own salute. White returned the salute just as briskly. Chewbacca laughed in his typical Wookiee way. With a roar. Han glanced at him and smiled. White looked over at the hairy alien and turned a shade of white.

"Ah-apology acc-cepted. Now, if you pilots and guests please come with me, I’ll show you to our VIP quarters, not that they are much different, but make yourself at home. It will take a few short hours to get to New Constantinople."

Han Solo inspected this blond giant, scrutinizing every aspect of him. Han glanced over at his daughter. Jaina was coolly gazing at the Lieutenant, as if evaluating him as well. As Han watched, her gaze swept over his body, taking in every detail. Han whispered to Jaina, "Easy now, Jaina. He’s probably twice your age and married. Besides, Zekk is still back home, remember?"

She blushed fiercely. "Dad! I wasn’t even thinking about him that way. And besides, there is nothing going on between Zekk and me. We’re just friends." Han gave her a glance, smiling.

"Sir, I’m a little astounded," spoke Stiletto as the group of people walked down through the corridors of the ship. "You command a heavy cruiser, and yet you’re only a lieutenant. Not that it’s any of my business, but... lieutenants usually rate corvettes, do they not?"

"Well, I wasn’t too, shall we say, popular with Commodore Stately. That would be the second in command at Perry Naval Base, the center of Confed operations in Gemini. He knew I was a good officer and that they couldn’t put me out on the sidelines. So he gave me this cruiser and a command, but they didn’t promote me. So I don’t have the pay or benefits of a captain or a commander. I got over it." 

Stiletto smiled at the willpower behind Lieutenant White. He was a strong man with a good heart.

As they got to the VIP quarters, there were five of them, one for each person in the party. Jaina walked in and frowned in disgust. As did all of the others of the group. Unkempt beds, Metal floors. And no dresser what so ever. Maniac and Stiletto were the ones who were most sickened because they were used to the way squadron commanders were treated on the Midway. Nice quarters. Maniac, spoiled by too many top assignments in his career, forgot how it was to live on a run down ship.

"Forget this. Chewie, I’m sleeping on the Falcon," bellowed Han. Chewie roared in reply and they both walked to the deck, Jaina following. It was going to be a long trip.

TCS KRISTIN; FLIGHT DECK
THE NEW CONSTANTINOPLE SYSTEM, POTTER QUADRANT, GEMINI SECTOR
2045 HOURS (CST)

As the Kristin jumped into the system, the group was noticed the small flotilla that was building there. Maniac looked out of his window and noticed that there was at least seven Confed capital ships in formation at the jump point. The cruiser floated and proceeded to dock with the New Constantinople Station and Maniac saw that there was a light carrier next to them. Ranger-class. They all entered onto the station as the green light over the airlock appeared and the airlock hatch opened in a gust of wind.

A young spaceman was waiting for the group as they entered and hurriedly approached them. He saluted the Major as he came out and Maniac returned the salute crisply.

"All of you, please come with me. Commodore Stately is waiting in his office."

"Okay, son, take us to him," replied Han, eager to look around the beautiful station.

"Maybe you should let the Major do his job, Dad," suggested Jaina with a frown. Han had been a tad too eager to get down to business. The group followed the spaceman as he took them to the lift and up to Commodore Stately’s office. They entered and got their first look at the Commodore. He was an older man with white haired features and lots of wrinkles. Waiting with them was a rugged-looking younger man and a Kilrathi. Maniac took attention, did a double take as he saw the Cat, and almost drew his sidearm in shock. Chewie growled.

"Calm yourself, Major. He’s a friend of Brownhair here," ordered the Commodore.

"Uh, sir... who’s Brownhair?" asked Maniac.

"That would be me," stated the man. Han noted the curious scar over his eyebrow. "And my Kilrathi friend here is Khajja."

"No name on you, huh?"

"You got a problem with ‘Brownhair?’"

"Please, all of you, please have a seat. Allow me to explain," stated the Commodore as they all sat down on a sofa that was available, "As you know, this is Brownhair, at least, that’s what we all know him by. He is the leader of a group of elite privateers that are signed up with Confed for this conflict, and a member of both the Merchants’ and Mercenaries’ guilds. As you should have guessed, we are massing the Gemini fleet to move down to Sol Sector to defend Terra. As both the Sol and Sirius systems are under attack as we speak, we must act quickly. President Quinson has already announced a declaration of war against the Galactic Empire and the Cat Clans in their alliance." The group of people, excluding Brownhair and his Kilrathi companion, frowned. How would this fleet get there in time? "Now, Sol would be vapor by the time our ships would get to the battle area so we equipped them with a one time use Hyperdrive. Should get us there in the nick of time if we leave within the day. Unfortunately, that means you guys will have to go back into battle without a rest. For this I’m sorry. Any questions?"

Maniac spoke up. "Sir, what ships are we sending down there?"

"Well, we are sending the TCS Macedonia, the Ranger light carrier that you most likely saw. We are also sending two Tallahassee-class cruisers, a trio of Sheffield-class destroyers, and two Murphy-class destroyers. Along with the Confed fleet will be Brownhair’s escort carrier. The New Machiapippian should support the fleet very well. It holds about 30 Centurion-class fighters, all full of mercenaries that signed up and formed a guild of their own with Brownhair."

"What? How in the hell did a small time privateer get a hold of an escort carrier?" demanded Han.

"I can answer that," replied Brownhair, his voice cool and calculated. "I contracted a deal with a wealthy civilian transport shipyard CEO. He built the carrier on a transport hull. All of the fighters and crew on board the carrier came to me for a base of operations."

"Out of the kindness of his heart, right?"

"No. He owed me a favor. I collected."

Han smiled as he heard the Privateer speak of his missions. There were times, many times, that he found himself missing the old life that he had led, before his involvement with Obi-Wan and Luke back in his home galaxy. The old days. "So what’d you do, kid?" he asked, half-jokingly. "Smuggling run? Arms deal? C’mon, what is it? I done it all."

"Then you should know I can’t discuss any of it." Han smiled at Brownhair’s response. He was right. "But as I was saying, we even have a pair of Orions and a few Galaxies on board. Hell, we even have a Mercenaries’ Guild member on board. By doing this mission for Confed, we have something of an... understanding. The Confed and local Militia will leave us alone."

"Okay, we need to get this show on the road. I’ll be in command of the battle group aboard the Macedonia. You should have your ships transported to the Macedonia as soon as possible, however, General Solo. Our pilots don’t even want to try to fly your freighter—I’m afraid that’s up to you," stated the Commodore.

"No problem. I would have killed any pilot if he touched it anyways," replied Han. The Commodore smiled and shook hands as they stood up and walked out of his office.

TCS MACEDONIA; BRIDGE
2215 HOURS (CST)

Commodore Stately sat back in his chair. At the command post again. He would enjoy commanding his group into battle again. Just as the Commodore got comfortable, the ensign at communications turned towards him.

"Sir, the Millennium Falcon just landed and the battle group is ready to enter hyperspace."

"And the New Machiapippian... are they ready?"

"Yessir."

"Very well. Inform the group to enter hyperspace in one minute."

"Yessir," replied the comm officer and he turned the group what he was ordered. As one minute passed, the carrier had a slight dimming of light as the engines came on-line. The carrier, as with the battle group, then accelerated into another form of space that was much kinder than "Jump Space." There was no jumpshock or queasiness to speak of. Just a blue spinning vortex that the battle group was traveling into with initially the slight sensation of pulling Gs. 

No one quite knew what was going to be on the other side.

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