Chapter 79 - The Lost Fleet [3/3] (1/2)

Part 8

Bridge

Heavy cruiser Warrior

High orbit above Eriadu

”I guess Veil's still some time away.” Admiral Tenant grumbled over the comm.

Tarkin snorted. That became painfully obvious a few hours after the enemy reinforcements arrived. Gideon still had no idea what news they brought, however after taking some time to digest it, the Confederate commander had decided it was finally time to secure the system for good. Most of the Separatist forces around Eriadu had shifted their positions and ȧssumed offensive formations in a circle around the loyalists and were now advancing. At the same time, the droids on the moon were throwing everything they had against the cannons. There were points where the fighting had reached the last defensive lines and even rushing all available reserves there, the soldiers weren't expected to hold for long. In an hour another regiment would be getting there from Eriadu and that would be the last force that could be spared from the planet.

”Deploy all remaining fighters and bombers. Let them use the wrecks as cover until the enemy comes close.” Tarkin ordered. I want the tugs ready to maneuver the improvised platforms when necessary.” Those were little more than hulks tractored in to provide some cover before a bright engineer had the great idea to either partially restore them or just slap on some light guns, shields and missile pods to give them a bit of punch.

”Already doing it.” Tenant said. ”The mine-layers are deploying everything they have left too.”

”The enemy is advancing.” A sensor operator reported.

The tactical plot changed to show hundreds of red dots moving towards the loyalists.

”Authorizing the last of the weapon platforms to go activate. Good luck, Tarkin.” Tenant saluted.

”Let's make our own. Try not to die. You're a decent sort for someone from the Core.” Gideon cracked a small smile before cutting off the feed. ”Comms, I need to talk with all the Theater Fleet commanders.”

”Patching you through, brigadier.”

Four tired faces appeared in front of Gideon. Two older humans – a man and woman, a Zabrak and a Bith, all wearing admiral uniforms from their respective system defense navies.

”We all know the score, so I won't be making any grand speeches. If we fall, our whole sector falls with us. The enemy comes, so let's kill the rusty bastards.” Gideon's smile was all teeth. ”First and second fleet take the flanks. My own will hold the center. Third and Fourth, take those coming from above and below respectively. The Republic navy has our backs.”

Tarkin looked back at the tactical display. Nearly four hundred Munificents led the charge followed by two hundred Recusant destroyers and the battleships come behind them. The frigates came at flank speed and didn't appear to intent stopping until ramming something or passing through the loyalist formation.

This was going to be unpleasant.

The various weapons bolted on the wrecks surrounding the Republic forces spoke next. Couple of thousands concussion missiles were launched aimed at mere ten frigates, while laser cannons and the odd turbolaser on or even a couple of railguns spread their love in an attempt to cripple as many of the incoming enemies as possible. The Umbrella did its best, the light screen of Vultures deployed with the Munificents flew to intercept the incoming ordnance too. Two Munificents died when the missiles changed their attack vectors at the last possible moment, with another receiving moderate damage. A wave of return fire tore apart the first line of defense and further cluttered the battlefield with even more debris.

Finally the Separatist entered extreme range and began trading shots with the loyalist forces. Withing minutes an ever shrinking ring of fire appeared between Eriadu and her moon.

”Reform the right flank. Third and Fourth Theater fleets, begin falling back at ten percent reverse thrust. In two minutes the rest of the fleets do the same at twenty five percent. Continue crippling the Munificents and re-targeteither when they fall out of formation or when their maneuverability is compromised.” Tarkin ordered.

The long range engagement against the enemy escorts favored the Republic forces so far, however that segment of the battle was almost over. The frigates were coming uncomfortably close and the light destroyers nipped on their heels. Once all of those properly mixed up, the battleships would come to mop up at their convenience and in relative safety. The price was going to be high, unfortunately if the enemy was willing to pay it all Gideon could do was to make it even steeper.

A few minutes and a lot of crippled and destroyed ships later, the range had fallen significantly. Soon, the Munificents would be free to execute their ramming run.

”All small craft are clear to engage.” Tenant ordered fleet wide. ”All remaining weapon platforms are released to fire on the approaching frigates.”

And just like that, Tarkin became a spectator. There were no reserves left to deploy. No place left for any clever maneuvers. The Republic fleet had to fight and die nested into the small protected space between Eriadu and her moon.

=RK=

71st Bomber Squadron

Just a few short months ago, Lieutenant Falk thought that Geonosis had been a chaotic storm of death and destruction that wouldn't be equaled any time soon.

Two weeks of fighting to keep Eriadu from the Separatist's clutches showed the error of his way.

The Clone believed that the losses at Geonosis had been bad.

This never sufficiently kriffed up place gleefully proved him wrong again.

Falk had the dubious honor to be the only one left still alive from the original 71stSquadron. Everyone who had made it through the cauldron that was Geonosis died above Eriadu. Even worse, their replacements died too. Twice.

The 71stwas practically in its third iteration by now and it was chock full with KNGs who Falk really didn't bother to know besides the bȧrė minimum needed for administrative duties. It didn't matter really. They were all going to die too and he was a dead man flying on borrowed time anyway.

Fighting through Vulture swarms since the war began to reach the clanker's motherships had been bad enough. The new systems introduced by both sides – those kriffing Guardians and Umbrellas were the death knell of small craft everywhere. Only command either didn't know it yet or didn't care because they kept throwing fighters and bombers in the fire for small gain.

”Revenant Actual, you're weapons free. Target any Munificent that you can, Overlord out.”

Falk twitched when he heard his new call-sign, which he got after the 71stwas all but destroyed for the second time. Some REMF obviously decided that it was either funny or it would raise morale. The reminder that he should be dead like his brothers did neither.

”Revenant flight, Revenant Actual, we're free to hunt. Keep a nice solid hulk between ourselves and the enemy until we can execute an attack run.” Falk paused. ”Try not to die.” He added, though the Clone doubted it was going to help.

The Lieutenant looked up through the canopy. There was so much firepower concentrated in a relatively small space that a literal downpour of turbolaser bolts going every which way was visible with the nȧkėd eye. Falk shook his head. It would be miracle if he made it through the next hour.

He found he didn't really care. Today, tomorrow… It didn't matter. All Clone pilots were on borrowed time anyway.

Falk's scanners pinged and he smiled grimly. Once more into the breach and all that bantha poodo.

”We've got incoming targets. Form up on me. We're pouncing on them when they pass by the hulk. We go in, unleash our torpedoes then scatter and go back to the nest to rearm.” The lieutenant ordered.

Falk stared intently at his scanners. Every moment now…

”Follow me!” He snapped over the comm and went immediately to afterburner. His Y-Wing accelerated past the battered wreck of the Venator in which shadow the 71stwas hiding.

Two Munificents flew past the destroyed engines of the Star Destroyer and the bomber squadron flew straight behind them. A few weapon platforms which were playing dead until now went active and sent twenty missiles apiece at each of the frigates along with a lot of blaster bolts.

Falk grinned savagely when his targeting computer sounded a positive tone and he pressed the firing buŧŧon. The ark behind the engines was where the Umbrella had the least coverage. It was meant to be covered by other ships or Vultures and right then and there those weren't in any position to ȧssist.

However a comparatively lighter defensive fire didn't mean it was non existent of ineffective. A Y-Wing blew up. Then another. A third was clipped and spun out of control before slamming into the front third of a destroyed light cruisers.

Finally the torpedoes were away and Falk made a sharp turn towards the burned out hulk of a Luckrehulk which had been dragged to serve as an improvised shield for an orbital shipyard. Warning tones screamed in the ċȯċkpit announcing that multiple missiles had locked on the lieutenant's bomber and were approaching fast.

Falk cursed and began releasing decoys before sharply diving straight towards the wreck. A chocked scream cam over the comm and another newbie died.

The Clone was bȧrėly able to pull back before splattering over the torn armor of the Luckrehulk. Most of the missiles weren't so fortunate and slammed into the ship. Two somehow managed to turn and follow him. Falk banked left and began weaving dangerously close though a field of twisted cannon emplacements. One missile clipped the half melted barrel of a turbolaser, yet the other persisted and it was coming closer and closer.

Falk pulled up, then dived sharply and turned around to fly into the cavernous hold of the battleship. The kriffing missile continued to follow.

Floating debris, including large pieces of disabling droids began bouncing off the fighter. Falk was bȧrėly able to see where he was flying and had to rely on his instruments alone. A proximity alarm roared in his ears and he cut the engines then went for a crash landing just in time to avoid ramming a bunch of tanks floating in the vacuum. The missile's luck finally ran out and in slammed into one of the armored vehicles. The blast-wave was enough to throw the rest around and one hit the port engine at the precisely wrong angle and speed, disabling it.

Falk just stared in the darkness for the next few minutes unable to believe that he was still alive. By all rights he should have bought it and joined his brother in whatever passed for afterlife if such a thing existed. The Clone shook his head in exasperation. Why the kriff was he still alive when so many good men didn't make it?!

=RK=

Part 9

=RK=

2nd Platoon

41stBattalion ”The Grim Reapers”

Eriadu's moon

”Sarge!” Dex shouted.

Hound bȧrėly heard him over the scream of artillery shells and the constant cacophony of explosions. Even with a fresh battalion sent to hold the line, the only reason why the clankers hadn't reached the Ion Cannon behind them was the constant bombardment.

”What?!” The sergeant asked before wincing.

The barrage tapered out and soon ended. Hound went to one of the monitors showing what was happening outside the bunker and began cursing. While the valley was turned into a hell-scape of craters and twisted metal, the enemy was still pressing through. They sacrificed whole regiments of B1s used as little more than cannon fodder and it apparently worked. Hound could see more tank approaching, this time escorted by Commandos, SBs and some new hulking droids that had a lot of big guns built in.

”The artillery is running short on shells, sarge!” Dex explained. ”We can't call for orbital support either, the fleet is fully engaged. From what I heard, they might be losing too.” The was come out as a whisper.

”Kriff it all. Are there any reserves left?” Hound cursed again.

”Another regiment managed to land before things up there got totally kriffed up. We should be getting at least one company.” Dex pointed at the ceiling.

”Keep calling for more support. We're going to need all the help we could get.” Hound clapped his brother's shoulder.

Heavy laser cannons and repeaters built in the bunkers opened up on the advancing enemy. They answered with a barrage of smoke grenade that covered the whole valley in a silver metallic mist that cut visibility to just a few meters and scrambled all but the seismic sensors.

”Why did they sent the competent clankers at us?!” Dex whɨnėd.

”Because we're that big pain in their metal ȧsses. Get me all the support you can.” Hound triggered his comm. ”This is Black Two actual, I need all indirect fire support shooting at predesignated coordinates...” At least the company's integrated mortar section had some rounds left. Not enough to make big difference, but the shock-waves might clear up the smoke temporarily so the cannons could bag a few tanks before more could be applied.

Hound smiled when the tell tale flashes of thermal warheads lit up the silver mist and either burned it out or scattered it. The cannons wasted no time in re-targeting and slagging the leading Separatist tanks before more smoke grenades were utilized by the enemy. The clankers were already a third up the valley and coming in fast.

Hound gave the re-adjusted coordinates to the mortars two more times before they ran out of ammo.

”Well, kriff.” The sergeant summarized. The enemy was almost at the edge of the shield.

He went to a nearby console and flipped open the transparent lid of a red buŧŧon, then waited for the first group of tanks and infantry to pass through. They were met by withering amount of firepower and most were slagged before they could sent back more than a shot or two. A few survived long enough to shoot more of the smoke grenades further obscuring the battlefield.

Hound waited for a few more seconds and pressed the buŧŧon. Dozens of charges placed just behind the edge of the shield detonated. It was a mix of high explosive packs and Ion grenades. They were carefully crafted to expend most of their fury in a cone aimed at the enemy most likely approaches.

The resulting thunderclap and pyrotechnics thanks to the weird stuff passing for atmosphere were quite impressive too. Hopefully that would make the clankers pause.

Or not. Hulking figures surrounded by glowing shields came striding through the aftermath of the explosion. Automatic dispensersliberally sent grenades – smoke and otherwise – everywhere. Shoulder mounted cannons tracked the nearest bunkers and sent eye-watering lances of white light at them followed by missile barrages. Scores of repeater bolts slammed in their shields and had seemingly the same effect as water drops hitting the surface of a lake.

Then the laser cannons finally re-targeted and began blowing up the behemoths, though it took at least two shots – one to pop the shield and another to potentially disable depending on where it hit.

The bunkers weren't getting unscratched either. The war-droids firepower began flaying their weapon emplacements, silencing them one after another. Then more silver smoke obscured the enemy and they became little more than ghost visible only when they fired.

=RK=