I get to conquer the Federation (SW SI X ST)

[Morkail]

I could swear I've read this before, still awesome. Thanks for the chapter.

 

[iceknight90]

…subspace weapons were really tempting right now.

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I'm going to assume it's only a matter of time before this war and the constant pressure that the Imperials put on the Federation will cause some of their more pragmatic and/or radical elements to start breaking out the mad science superweapons.

Speaking of which, I wonder what Section 31 is doing.

 

[demonitter]

"ALL SHIPS, FOLLOW MY LEAD: CHARGE!"

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"Fly closer, I must hit the with my space sword."

 

[Dudedude123]

I could swear I've read this before, still awesome. Thanks for the chapter.

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It was posted on Spacebattles for a while.

Then teh Star Wars Wankers and the Star Trek Wankers really started bitching at each other, and were getting the thread locked twice a day.

 

[Morkail]

It was posted on Spacebattles for a while.

Then teh Star Wars Wankers and the Star Trek Wankers really started bitching at each other, and were getting the thread locked twice a day.

Click to shrink...

Ah thought so and this is why we can't have nice things… that and we live in some insane world of intolerant tolerance.

 

[Wild Transient]

Ah thought so and this is why we can't have nice things… that and we live in some insane world of intolerant tolerance.

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Having originally read it on SB i kinda recall it was more due to one poster objecting to the turbo laser bombardment of San Francisco.

Debates were had along with accusations of the OP being a IRL psycho from what i dimly recall.

 

[Morkail]

Having originally read it on SB i kinda recall it was more due to one poster objecting to the turbo laser bombardment of San Francisco.

Debates were had along with accusations of the OP being a IRL psycho from what i dimly recall.

Click to shrink...

Doesn't surprise me I can recall story's get shut down because auther was trying to wipe out a race in a story.
i think it was 40k story where the MC was commenting on how he wished he could wipe out all orks and all the commenters were saying "yep kill 'em all" apparently genocide in a fantasy universe fanfiction is bad and you should feel bad.

actually I think I remember that chapter she does the thrash thing like a boss and everyone started comparing how evil she was for blowing up California. Probably didn't help so many people joking about nothing was really lost lol.

 

[Jaenera Targaryen]

"The fleet has assumed a semi-circular formation," Torrhen reported. "Extending along the positive and negative y-axes as planned. Furthermore, our position is within one planetary diameter of the Federation capital planet."

"And the status of the Fifth Battlegroup?" I asked.

"They have successfully conducted a tactical withdrawal," Torrhen replied. "And have assumed position to our right flank, between our First Battlegroup and the adjacent Sixth Battlegroup. Though I must point out, admiral: given their role as the fleet's vanguard, the Fifth Battlegroup is depleted and represents a weak point in our lines which the enemy may take advantage of."

"I certainly hope they do." I said. "It'd just as certainly give us the chance to give their Home Fleet a very bloody nose."

"As you say, ma'am." Torrhen said with a nod, well-aware of the alternative course the third phase of Operation Yellow might take.

"Now then," I said, drawing myself up and holding my gloved hands to my back. "Signal the fleet: Star Destroyers are to hold back, and concentrate on long-range bombardment. No need to be too aggressive, just destroy each and every enemy ship in range. Other ships are to engage frontally in sequential rotation, advancing by flotilla to deliver a full barrage before withdrawing, covered by the next flotilla on rotation. Rinse and repeat."

"Yes, ma'am." Torrhen said with a nod, and moving to relay my orders.

"Simple and elegant, ma'am." Sara remarked on my other side.

"I suppose it gives that impression, doesn't it?" I asked. "But at the end of the day, we're just playing to our strengths. And we're able to handle a battle of attrition better than they are, to say nothing of gunnery duels."

"As you say, ma'am." Sara agreed.

I nodded, and then narrowed my eyes. "Once the fleet engagement is proceeding as planned," I began as Torrhen returned. "Give the word: pave the road."

The older man gave a wolf-like smile. "Opening the door wider for the Special Attack Force, yes?" he asked.

"That's the idea." I said.

"Understood, admiral." He said with a nod. "Given the usual chaos of the battlefield, I'd say it'll take between ten to fifteen minutes before we give the word."

"Good…very good…" I said with a smile, glancing at the tactical display and at the large number of Venators in the fleet, and the unpleasant surprise (for the enemy) that they represented.

TIE Fighters and TIE Bombers were cheap, fast, and easy to mass-produce, but both the Imperial Navy and the galaxy were very big places. Even now, four years after the end of the Clone Wars, there were still plenty of older (and more capable) attack craft still in service. And too many Imperial commanders were all too eager to replace those veteran designs and their pilots and crews with newer TIE series attack craft and green pilots, aiming to distance themselves from the memory of the Galactic Republic, all to curry favor with the sycophants infesting the Imperial Court on Imperial Center.

Idiots…their flattery of the Emperor and his New Order might buy them favor in the short-term, but in the long-term?

It won't do them much good against the Emperor's displeasure when they get sent to do something and fail miserably at it. Or more likely, the Emperor would palm them off to Lord Vader, who'd then strangle them en masse for being a bunch of incompetent bootlickers who kissed asses all the way to command rank.

I'm not particularly sadistic, but having encountered all too many of the new breed of officers rising through the ranks these days…

…I can't really say I don't share the Emperor's amusement at the thought of those morons choking to death at a gesture from Lord Vader.

Anyway…

…much like with the Venators, if other officers were all too eager to send veteran pilots and crews with their older attack craft to reserve lists or force them into early retirement, I was also just as eager to get them assigned under my command. Now, here's to hoping they teach the new bunch piloting TIEs more than a few lessons.

No need to hope they do well. They're veterans, after all.

That they'd do well should go without saying.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Attention, attention, all pilots to their attack craft. This is a combat alert. Attention, attention, all pilots to their attack craft. This is a combat alert. Attention, attention…"

Pilots rushed from their ready rooms to the nearest elevators, which then carried them to the main hangar, where their attack craft were waiting. It was a bit of a wait, which the pilots endured with an air of relaxed stoicism, mixed with an undercurrent of cautious excitement and anticipation.

After all, it'd been years since they'd flown in actual battle, for all that they'd kept their skills sharp as best they could in that amount of time.

"So," Sub-Lieutenant UF-5153, nicknamed 'Cable' by his brothers, spoke up. "We finally get to see some action after so long. Glad to see not everyone's forgotten about us."

"It's the new breed, Cable." Lieutenant FK-8290, nicknamed 'Incident' by his brothers, replied. "Those who fought back in the war haven't forgotten us. And from what I know, just about everyone at the top on this theater are men and women like us."

"Hmm…guess this is our chance to show the new breed that without us they wouldn't be sitting in their comfortable little spaces right now." Cable mused.

"If you want to think like that, by all means." Incident replied. "Just remember: when you're out there in space, make sure to get the job done, and get back safe."

"Thanks for the reminder, LT." Sub-Lieutenant QG-9225, nicknamed 'Clue', quipped, and a ripple of laughter went through the clone pilots. Then the doors opened, and they rushed out, pulling their helmets on and attaching it to their personal life support units.

Jogging down the vast length of the Star Destroyer's hanger, they split as they reached their assigned berths, climbing up and into the cockpits of their ARC-170 Starfighters. Technicians finished final diagnostics, before disconnecting power cables and fuel lines. Equipment was stowed, safeties withdrawn, and then technicians and droids were clearing away.

Then the whole hangar shook, as the bay doors slid open, exposing the starlit void above, and the blue orb of the nearby planet. Engines ignited across the length and width of the hanger, ARC-170 Starfighters and Y-Wing Bombers launching in sequence one after another.

"Wolf-Three," the flight operator spoke through the speaker in Cable's helmet. "You are clear to launch."

"Acknowledged, Delta-One." Cable said, before guiding his ARC-170 out of its berth with practiced ease. And then opening up on the throttle, rocketed out of the hangar, picking up speed and falling into formation with the rest of the squadron.

"Wolf Leader to all squadrons." Wing Commander LE-7183, nicknamed 'Burner', began over the wing frequency. "I won't repeat our orders, because I know you lot know enough to listen during the briefing. So let's go out there and win this one for everyone who fought in the Clone Wars, alright?"

"Kote, mhi vode!" the war cry roared from all members of the wing. Then all wings banked hard, swinging out to a new course that would take them around the battlefield, and to their true targets, to the enemy's rear and flanks.

"Delta-One to Wolf Wing." The scratchy transmission came several minutes later. "Com-Scan has detected multiple small craft on an intercept course, assumed to be enemy fighters."

"Acknowledged, Delta-One." Burner replied. "Wolf Leader to all squadrons, you heard the man. This wouldn't be fun without a proper dogfight, so lock S-Foils in attack position, and standby to engage."

"Acknowledged, Wolf Leader." Cable said while locking his S-Foils in attack position. "You heard that, Chemistry, Agent?"

"Just make sure you fly us straight, Cable." Cable's rear gunner, Sub-Lieutenant CM-7433, nicknamed 'Chemistry', replied. "I'll watch our backs like I always have."

"Hear, hear." Sub-Lieutenant KO-4249, nicknamed 'Agent' and Cable's forward gunner, added while bringing up the targeting computer.

"I'll leave it to two you then."

"Likewise." The other clones chorused.

Lines and numbers flickered over the screen, before locking onto multiple targets. "Package armed, standing by." Cable said.

"Package armed, standing by."

"Package armed, standing by."

"Package armed, standing by."

Clone pilots reported in near-simultaneously, moments before Burner gave the order. "Engage!" he barked.

Red lights flared across the battlefield as Imperial attack wings launched a mass proton torpedo volley at range. "Incoming torpedoes!" a clone shouted.

"Looks like they've got the same ideas we do." Burner hissed. "Break formation, and reverse acceleration! It's a dogfight! OYA! OYA!"

The Imperial attack wings did as they were ordered, breaking formation into groups of three and scattering to throw off the enemy torpedoes' guidance systems. Green light flashed across space as tail gunners opened up, aiming to shoot down torpedoes even as fighters danced and rolled across the battlefield.

"So much for the initial volley." Cable growled as he and his wingmen pounced on the tail of a Federation fighter, which began weaving back and forth to throw them off. "…not bad…not bad…but not good enough!"

Agent intuitively pulled the trigger an instant before the targeting computer locked on. Green lances speared across space from the wingtip cannons, pulsing out strobe-like into space. The first few pulses flew vainly into the void, but the rest hit true, splattering against the Federation fighter's shields repeatedly before they collapsed.

Then the laser blasts smashed into the fighter's rear hull, melting through before following blasts tore the fighter up. "One down!" Cable cheered.

"And dozens more to go." Chemistry hissed, opening up with the tail gun as Federation fighters closed on their tail.

Hissing himself, Cable barrel-rolled, causing phaser blasts to miss repeatedly. Twice they struck true, their fighter kept from being destroyed only by their shields. Growling at the hits, Cable wove back and forth across the battlefield, mindful of the orange beams lancing out at them from the Federation fighters behind.

Then one of the fighters was blown up by one of Cable's wingmen, and reversing acceleration, while rolling to one side, Cable allowed the remaining fighter to overshoot. "Got you, you bastard!" Agent hissed while opening fire.

Amazingly, the Federation fighter evaded Agent's fire, before trying to pull the same stunt Cable just did. Then a pair of proton torpedoes turned the fighter into space trash, and Cable was grinning.

"Thanks, Gate." He said.

"No problem." Sub-Lieutenant XS-6707, nicknamed 'Gate', replied. "Just watching my brothers' backs, that's all."

"Hey," Cable's other wingman, Sub-Lieutenant ET-7130, nicknamed 'Chance', protested. "No thanks for me?"

Cable launched before banking to the side, his wingmen following. "No worries," he said. "Drinks are on me later! OYA! OYA!"
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Fusion-powered laser beams lanced from defense satellites in staggered intervals, onboard computers ensuring there were always satellites firing even when others were recharging their weapons array. Imperial Y-Wings rolled and banked across the battlefield, avoiding the energy blasts before firing off a salvo of proton torpedoes.

Secondary weapons on the satellites came online, point-defense lasers lancing out at incredible rates. Torpedoes exploded before they could come close, but the Y-Wings pressed the assault, laser cannons blazing.

Satellites exploded as lasers met their mark, before stricken Y-Wings plummeted off-course, smoke, plasma, and debris trailing from wrecked engines. "I'm losing it…AAAAAAAAA-!" Sub-Lieutenant CT-9401, nicknamed 'Hammer' screamed before another satellite turned his Y-Wing into burning scrap flying through space.

"Hammer…!" Sub-Lieutenant YT-4640, nicknamed 'Midnight', shouted before his moment of inattention allowed a defense satellite to land a solid hit.

Imperial Y-Wing squadrons were taking serious losses as they assaulted Earth's orbital defense grid, but the grid itself was taking heavy losses. Enough so that only an hour after the fighter launch, Y-Wings broke through the defense satellites towards the orbital defense stations responsible for providing cover to an area that included a portion of the West Coast of the United States.

Phaser beams and point-defense weapons blazed from the stations' defenses, unlucky Y-Wings taking hits and reduced to drifting scrap. "Double power to forward deflectors!" Lieutenant-Commander AF-9107, nicknamed 'Laughter' barked into his helmet's mouthpiece. "Stay on target, and standby on proton torpedoes!"

As acknowledgements came in, Laughter brought up his targeting computer, watching the reticule narrowing in as the distance closed. Several times his Y-Wing shook as point-defense fire slammed into its deflectors, but they and the fighter held firm, until finally the targeting computer locked in.

"I have a lock!" he barked. "Torpedoes away!"

Laughter banked away as he fired off a volley of proton torpedoes, the surviving members of his squadron doing likewise. Point-defense guns blazed away, but while they managed to shoot a few of the torpedoes down, most struck true, exploding with enough force against the station's shields to shake it.

"Did we get them?" Sub-Lieutenant SH-2863, nicknamed 'Major', asked.

"No," Laughter growled. "It's shields are barely holding, but they're holding. We need to come around for…"

Laughter was unable to finish the sentence, as a group of fighters backed by a Defiant Class ship swung around and opened fire, destroying the entire squadron in less than ten seconds. But while this station was safe (for now), the other stations were having less luck dealing with the Imperial bombers.

The nearest one shuddered as its shields collapsed, the squadron which took it down soaring away to engage approaching Federation reinforcements. In their wake, another Y-Wing squadron roared in, proton bombs flashing as they were magnetically-launched from bomb bays and against the now-exposed defense station.

Explosions rippled across the station, even as ion cannon strikes disabled primary and secondary systems alike. Backup systems were too well-hardened to be taken down by bomber-grade ion cannons, but with power cut to the orbital systems and the emitters destroyed by torpedo strikes, the backup systems could only ensure surviving crew had the time to evacuate the station before it fell from orbit and into Earth's atmosphere.

And still the assault continued.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I stared at the tactical display on the Courageous' bridge, jaw set as I divided my attention between the orbital defenses and the Home Fleet. No doubt, the only reason the former hadn't fired on us was due to the risk of friendly fire, our fleet's heavy jamming keeping Starfleet from using their (usually) absurdly-precise sensors to deploy extremely-precise fire against us.

"…the orbital satellites are easy enough to take down," Torrhen was saying. "But the defense stations are much more formidable. Less so compared to a Golan-II, but our Y-Wings are still taking quite a beating."

I nodded slowly, and made a small smile of satisfaction as one of the remaining stations began to explode. "It seems we underestimated the enemy's orbital defenses to a considerable degree." I said. "We'll have to keep that in mind in the future. Also…those new fighters of theirs…an unpleasant surprise…"

Especially in my case, as I'd assumed the Federation would depend largely on shuttlecraft plus a small amount of custom designs like Voyager's Delta Flyer or that special runabout the Enterprise-E (and probably other Sovereign Class Starships) carried. Enough to match the TIE Fighter or even the V-Wings some Venators still carried, but less so ARC-170s or Y-Wings.

Those new fighters though…

…hmm…I think this called for quick thinking, or things would start going south pretty fast from here on out.

"When the fourth phase begins," I began. "I want the Special Attack Force to capture at least one of those fighters. They represent a…variable, in our operational planning that we'll need to take a closer look into."

"I'll give the order, ma'am." Torrhen said with a nod.

I nodded back. "…only twenty minutes left until the third phase begins." I said after a few moments. "The fleet battle is going well, but it's ultimately a distraction."

"Should we redeploy fleet elements to reinforce the attack on the enemy orbital defenses?" Torrhen asked.

I considered it for a few moments, and then shook my head. "No," I said. "We'll continue as planned. Our flyboys are doing well all things considered, so let's trust in them until the very end."

"Yes, ma'am." Torrhen said with a nod.

I continued to stare at the tactical display for several minutes, and then poked a finger into the hologram. "Those corvettes of theirs are pretty effective." I remarked. "More agile than the CR90, and potentially-equal if they ever got their hands on more-effective beam weaponry."

"Should we attempt to capture one of them as well?" Torrhen asked.

"…in the future, but not at present." I said after a moment's thought. "It's much too risky right now, what with everyone on edge with the fleet battle. Not to mention the Special Attack Force essentially being asked to take a leap of faith. They might be too…unnerved, that they might make mistakes storming and securing even a corvette-sized vessel, and cost us a Star Destroyer by the Federation pulling a self-destruct in the hangar bay."

"I see your point, ma'am." Torrhen agreed.

I narrowed my eyes though. Those corvettes assisting in the defense of Earth orbit…

…they reminded me of…

…no, that couldn't be right. The Defiant was a one-of-a-kind vessel, something they could never mass-produce, if only because it was built around a Romulan cloaking device. A cloaking device given to the Federation by the Romulans on the conditions that a) the Defiant would not be allowed to cruise in the Alpha Quadrant, b) use of the cloaking device was largely-restricted to reconnaissance operations, c) combat use of the cloaking device was limited to only against the Dominion and in the Gamma Quadrant, and d) any reconnaissance data would be shared freely and without restrictions with the Romulan Star Empire.

Any violation of those conditions would be considered an abrogation of the Treaty of Algeron, and a cassus belli for the Romulan Star Empire against the United Federation of Planets.

Ergo, they couldn't be Defiant Class Starships, given the Federation's asinine obsession with treaties to the left and right. They were even worse than the historical British Empire in that light.

Unless of course…

…the Treaty of Algeron was already null and void. That, or she was misremembering or misinterpreting her memories of her past life.

"…admiral?" I began, in an effort to shake my mind of out of its worry over the unexpected variable that a mass-production of the Defiant Class Starship represented.

"Yes, admiral?" Torrhen replied.

"…make sure the Special Attack Force is careful when they capture one of the Federation fighters." I said. "Even if it's only a fighter, a self-destruction is still going to cause a lot of damage."

"I understand, ma'am." Torrhen said. "I'll be sure to inform Admiral Daala of that particular detail."

"…good…very good…"

 

[iceknight90]

You know as much as I give the Federation shit, they're pretty damn good at engineering wacky new solutions.

So I rather hope that the various acts of devastation inflicted upon them by the Empire (I decided to read ahead and tracked down the old SB thread) provide enough of a kick for the Federation to loosen their strict morals for a bit and come up with some absurd high tech boondoggles to help tip things back in their favour.

Although granted, the wunderwaffen that the Federation put together probably won't be quite as efficient or effective as the Empire simply drowning the Star Trek galaxy in troops, ships, and materiel.

 

[Jaenera Targaryen]

You know as much as I give the Federation shit, they're pretty damn good at engineering wacky new solutions.

So I rather hope that the various acts of devastation inflicted upon them by the Empire (I decided to read ahead and tracked down the old SB thread) provide enough of a kick for the Federation to loosen their strict morals for a bit and come up with some absurd high tech boondoggles to help tip things back in their favour.

Although granted, the wunderwaffen that the Federation put together probably won't be quite as efficient or effective as the Empire simply drowning the Star Trek galaxy in troops, ships, and materiel.

Click to shrink...

Wunderwaffen never works. Not against an enemy with overwhelming material superiority. History teaches us that much.

 

[iceknight90]

Wunderwaffen never works. Not against an enemy with overwhelming material superiority. History teaches us that much.

Click to shrink...

Hence why I used that phrase specifically. Wunderwaffen.

It's got that derisive connotation to it. The idea of a silver bullet being able to turn back the tides of war on all fronts.

 

[Jaenera Targaryen]

"More enemy ships dropping out of quantum slipstream, admiral." Matsuda replied. "Approximately forty thousand kilometers from the planet. I can't get precise numbers, not with all the jamming and battle debris, but I'd say they number at most a few hundred."

"…how many ships do we have left?" Shanthi asked after a moment.

"Out of an estimated one thousand ships at the start of the battle, we're down to about five hundred, give or take a few dozen plus or minus." Matsuda replied. "And half of those are in no condition to continue battle."

"…bring up tactical." Shanthi ordered after another moment. She then spent several more moments studying the tactical display, and then shook her head. "The Imperial Fleet is englobing us. Unless reinforcements arrive soon, we'll either be surrounded, or forced to withdraw to low orbit."

"The Second and Third Fleets should be arriving within the next five hours, admiral." Matsuda replied.

"By then we'd be dead and the enemy either gone or bombarding Earth to slag." Shanthi said.

"Admiral…maybe…maybe we should withdraw to low orbit then?" Matsuda asked, before holding up his hands to urge the admiral to hear him out. "Yes, I know if we do that, we'd be all but literally fighting with our backs against the wall. Damaged ships would have little chance to withdraw from the battlefield, and at heavy risk of being dragged in by the planet's gravity well and into the atmosphere. But those restrictions apply to the enemy as well, even more so given the larger size of their capital ships. And we'll have the orbital defenses to back us up as well."

"Maybe enough to hold out until reinforcements arrive?" Shanthi asked.

"Yes." Matsuda said with a nod.

Shanthi briefly regarded the tactical display in silence, struggling the urge to lash out as she saw ships winking out with every passing minute as they were destroyed or forced to retreat. "It's not a bad idea." She said. "But I'm still concerned about the prospect of stray fire hitting the planet behind us."

"I agree that's a major concern," Matsuda began. "But if we stay and fight here in high orbit, we'll be wiped out in less than an hour. And then the enemy will be able to bombard Earth with impunity. I…I apologize, if this comes out as unworthy of a Starfleet officer, but…"

"…we need to pick our poisons, huh?" Shanthi interrupted. "Yes…I hate to admit it, but if it's to keep Earth from getting bombarded, letting a few stray shots hit the planet is a small price to pay."

Matsuda said nothing, and after a moment, Shanthi gave him a measuring gaze. After a moment, she nodded. "No matter the reasoning we use though," she said, while working on her console. "It's a line of thinking inappropriate for Starfleet officers. What is this war doing to us?"

Again, Matsuda stayed silent, while Shanthi began giving new orders. "This withdrawal will have to be conducted properly," she firmly said. "Or those Star Destroyers will tear us to pieces."

Tapping her console, she highlighted a portion of the Imperial Fleet's right wing. "The enemy is withdrawing this formation from the battle." She said. "That formation was their vanguard, and continued to fight as part of their battle line after the rest of fleet jumped in. Most likely, as an obvious weakness to draw us in and catch us in a crossfire between their center and the rest of their right wing."

"And now the reinforcements are replacing them on the field." Matsuda said with a nod. "But like our planned withdrawal, replacing formations on the field has to be done carefully."

"And we'll throw their care to hell and back." Shanthi said. "We'll concentrate fire on that section of the line, and tear it open. And while the enemy is trying to patch it, we'll fall back."

"Yes, ma'am!" Matsuda said, hurrying to relay her orders.

Shanthi settled back in her seat, grimly watching the battle continue. And then she noticed something, something that had her sitting up in alarm. "Lieutenant Anderson," she began. "What are those outlying Imperial ships deliberately moving around the battlefield doing?"

The sensor officer immediately looked into the matter. "…I'm not sure, admiral." He began almost a minute later. "Most of them are ships we've seen before: Vindicators along with CR90s and Nebulon-Bs. But the ships they're escorting…we've never seen them before. However, based on computer simulations, they're moving across the battlefield as though to cover all vectors of approach."

"I don't like the sound of that." Matsuda immediately said.

"Neither do I." Shanthi said. "Get me Picard."

Immediately, Picard's face appeared on the screen, the image shot through with static. "Jean-Luc," Shanthi began. "I don't know what the Empire is planning with those new arrivals, and I don't know what to find out. Take out the squadron the furthest away, and work your way through. Just disrupting their formation is enough for starters, as they do seem to be trying to cover the battlefield's approach vectors."

"Under…admiral…handle it. Picard out."

As Picard's image winked out, Shanthi could only hope she was doing the right thing. Targaryen was proving to be a very dangerous enemy.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Ensign Perim," Picard ordered his helm officer. "Bring us to the rear of the enemy squadron furthest from the orbital battle. Take us in at Warp One. Mister Worf, standby on phasers and quantum torpedoes."

"Yes, sir." Lieutenant-Commander Worf said at the tactical station.

"Engage." Picard said with a gesture.

From their position in interplanetary space, the USS Enterprise-E made a pinpoint warp jump to the rear of an Imperial squadron furthest from the orbital battle. And it wasn't alone. Two Nebula Class Starships served as the Enterprise-E's vanguards, while screening its flanks and rear were four Akira Class Starships. Another ten Excelsior Class Starships added depth to the formation.

Despite being caught by surprise, the Imperial escorts moved quickly in response to the unexpected arrival of the Enterprise-E and her small flotilla. The Nebulon-Bs were the first to respond, the quartet of frigates bringing their turbolasers to bear and launching suppressing shots to buy time for the rest of the escort force to redeploy.

The Federation vessels rolled and wove around the frigates' fire, and returned fire with phasers and photon torpedoes. Two of the frigates went down quickly, their shields collapsing before photon torpedoes blew them apart.

A third frigate was literally blown in half as a well-placed quantum torpedo from the Enterprise-E shattered the bridge linking the ship's forward hull with the engine section to the rear. Precise fire from an Akira's phasers destroyed the bridge and crippled the engines of the fourth frigate, and then the Starfleet vessels were flying past.

By now CR90s were in position to attack, and opened fire with turbolasers. Sheer weight of fire sent an Excelsior reeling, plasma venting from multiple hull breaches. Quantum torpedoes flashed from the Enterprise-E, and destroyed three CR90s, evening the score.

The two Vindicators present rolled along their x-axes, allowing them to bring all their dorsal turbolasers to bear. At the same time, they launched all their fighters, which flew away a good distance before coming around to attack from above and below, in a classic Marg Sabl maneuver.

On the bridge of the Enterprise-E though, all attention was on Lieutenant-Commander Data, as he noticed and ran scans on a series of spheres bulging out from the hull of the two Imperial vessels being escorted by the ships they were fighting. "…I am uncertain of the exact mechanics of their operation," the android was saying. "But I believe when active those ships are able to generate a simulated gravity field."

"A simulated gravity field?" Commander William Riker echoed in confusion. "Why would they want to deploy a simulated gravity field?"

Data worked at his station with a frown on his face. "Based on rough estimates," he began after a few moments. "I suspect the simulated gravity field's gravimetric flux shear would inhibit the formation of a warp field...or agitating the quantum barrier, prevent travel by warp or quantum slipstream respectively."

"That doesn't really answer the question though." Counsellor Dianna Troi said. "Why would they want to do that?"

Alarmed beeping from the station drew their attention, the alarmed note of Data's voice even more so. "The Imperial Fleet has deployed their simulated gravity field." He said.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Daala stared out through the transparisteel windows on the command deck of her flagship, the Victory Class Star Destroyer Revenge. Through the windows, hyperspace swirled in an azure vortex, hypnotic and strangely-soothing, for all the tales told about so-called hyperspace madness.

Then blinking, she turned to her adjutant, Lieutenant Svent Krandor, who was visibly-fidgeting while also staring through the command deck's windows. "Don't be so anxious, lieutenant." Daala said. "Admiral Targaryen's a sharp commander, someone who doesn't take risks without reason or a fair chance of success. Besides, you saw the simulations the same way I did. This will work."

"With all due respect, ma'am," Krandor began. "Simulations are one thing. Reality is something else entirely. At the very least, we should have done at least one live test."

Daala hummed as she gave her adjutant's word fair consideration. His concerns might seem alarmist, defeatist even, but part of a good staff officer's duty was to play the role of a devil's advocate when given difficult or dangerous missions and orders. And he did have a point. Simulations and reality were completely different things.

"…if it fails, then we die." Daala finally said. "But in that case, take comfort in knowing that Admiral Targaryen will face a court-martial for the loss of our ships and crews. And if she succeeds…well, we'll be remembered as being the first to actually perform what may be called the Targaryen Gambit."

"…as you say, ma'am."

Daala nodded, and then turned back out to the swirls of hyperspace beyond the command deck's windows. The minutes ticked by, the young woman letting herself be carried away by the hypnotic patterns of hyperspace…

…and it was with a faint hint of regret that she saw starlines stretch out to infinity before them, as they reverted back into real space.

And there before them, hanging in the void and dominating their point of view, was the blue orb of the Federation capital planet. Their flotilla had emerged from hyperspace exactly as the simulations predicted they would, in low orbit, and in a perfect position to conduct a precision orbital strike.

"…I don't believe it." Krandor softly said, eyes wide and voice filled with awe.

"Believe it." Daala said with a nod and a smile. "Congratulations, Admiral Targaryen: The Targaryen Gambit has succeeded."

Then turning to face the bridge, Daala raised her voice, and gave the order. "PREPARE TO BROADSIDE!" she roared.

Immediately the crew sprang into action, turbolaser batteries and concussion missile banks across the Revenge and her sister ship, the Terror, turning and opening as they prepared to fire. Capacitors hummed as energy was funneled from battery generators and the Star Destroyers' main reactors alike, while metal clinked and hissed as concussion missiles were loaded into launch tubes.

"Target locked: Earth, United Federation of Planets' capital, San Francisco." The gunnery officer on the Revenge said. "All turbolaser batteries and missile banks standing by."

"Enemy fighters and corvettes inbound." Another officer warned.

"Have our escorts hold them off, and launch fighters." Daala responded. "Aren't there already Imperial fighter wings in this area of space?"

"…confirmed." an officer replied after a moment. "Skull, Angel, and Solar Squadrons already moving to intercept."

"Are we ready to commence bombardment?" Daala asked the bridge gunnery officer.

"Standing by, admiral." The man replied.

"Then fire."

"Acknowledged: commence bombardment."

Within moments, Revenge and Terror unleashed a planet-scouring onslaught of turbolaser blasts and concussion missiles. What would normally have been reserved for a continental-scale bombardment as part of a Base Delta Zero operation was instead focused on a single city-sized target.

San Francisco was far from defenseless, featuring powerful deflector shields meant to protect against orbital bombardment. They covered not just the city and its suburbs, but even part of the surrounding countryside. There were environmentally-sealed bunkers for the civilians, loaded with enough food and emergency equipment to let them hold out for months if needed. And there were also torpedo launchers and phaser batteries, with enough range to strike into low orbit and beyond if needed.

But between the heavy jamming, the debris of the orbital battle, the battle itself, and the artificial mass shadow caused by the interdictors, targeting sensors and computers alike were left blind. Attempts to fire manually failed, the Starfleet gunners unable to override the safeties built into their systems. As the Imperial Fleet began its bombardment, the defense operators rerouted power from the weapon systems to the shields in a desperate effort to protect the city.

Turbolaser blasts tore through the upper atmosphere, accompanied by concussion missiles. Already, the former's interactions with atmospheric molecules left trace amounts of heavy and radioactive byproducts in their wake. And then they struck against the deflector shield, sending waves of energy and radiation splattering across the atmosphere and the surrounding countryside.

Then they struck again, and again, and again, and again, and again. Every impact pumped energy and radiation into the atmosphere and surrounding land, the heat bloom alone throwing the regional if not the whole planetary weather system into chaos. But the waves of energy and radiation caused by the impacts were like those found in particle colliders, atmospheric molecules and atoms colliding, splitting, and fusing in micro-nuclear reactions that produced more heat, more radiation, and radioactive byproducts that were scattered in increasing amounts and distances.

And then the shield failed.

Turbolaser blasts and concussion missiles slammed into the heart of San Fransisco. Glass, stone, and metal melted and flowed like water, or simply turned into vapor. The force of repeated impacts tore kilometers deep into the planet's crust, evacuees screaming as their shelters collapsed around them, the lucky ones incinerated in an instant by direct hits from the turbolasers.

And still the bombardment continued, for over four minutes straight, turning nearly two hundred square kilometers of ground and water into a smoke and vapor-clouded hellscape of blackened and molten earth. Starfleet Headquarters was completely-obliterated, Admiral Paris and a large number of other senior and flag officers killed inside.

The Federation Council and various embassies were also killed, their hidden bunkers in outlying areas destroyed in the bombardment, unable to transport out as San Francisco's own shields interfered with their signal. Of the high officials of the Federation, only the president was left alive, his office being half a world away, and indeed conferring with the leaders of United Earth in a secure location even as battle was joined in the skies above.

Not that that mattered to the Empire. Operation Yellow had achieved its end regardless.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Bombardment complete!" Sara said. "Starfleet Headquarters and the Federation capital have been destroyed!"

"Admiral Daala's status?" I asked.

"Admiral Daala's Special Attack Force is breaking orbit, and preparing to jump." Sara replied.

"Have the interdictors drop the interdiction field, and disengage as well." I said. "Reorganize the fleet, all Star Destroyers are to form into three spearheads, and advance at maximum battle speed. We'll break through the enemy's left wing, and jump into hyperspace on the far side of the planet. The rest of the fleet will fall back, and escape hyperspace while we draw the enemy's fire. Divert power from weapons to shields. Our batteries have their built-in power sources anyway. Recall our attack craft. It's all on our metal from here on out, and we've got plenty!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Sara said before rushing off to relay my orders. As for myself, I focused on the blue globe of the Earth, and though obscured by the battle, I could see the spreading darkness that was the fallout of San Francisco's destruction spreading across the East Pacific and the western part of North America.

"War's such a dirty business." I thought. "And we're still only just getting started…"

I broke out of my thoughts as alarms sounded from the tactical display. "What's happened?" I demanded.

"An enemy cruiser conducted a pinpoint light-speed jump and attacked Terror and Revenge." Torrhen replied.

"Status?" I demanded.

"It launched high-speed torpedo volleys, and inflicted moderate damage on Revenge." Torrhen replied. "The Federation cruiser however has taken several hits from turbolasers and concussion missiles. It's dead in the water."

"Leave it." I said, idly noting said cruiser was actually the Enterprise-E. "We have no time to deal with stragglers. Operation Yellow is complete, and I see no need to waste any time. In fact…admiral, send the order. Commence Operation Typhoon immediately."

"Yes, admiral." Torrhen said before hurrying off to relay my orders. Meanwhile, I stared at the icon that represented the Enterprise-E, and realized I was essentially leaving them for dead. Or, to look at it from another perspective, they weren't worth killing.

And man, if anything could make Worf especially angry, it's probably that notion.

Picard was also probably furious at the damage dealt to his beloved ship, probably as furious as he was when the Borg boarded his ship. It took a lot of effort not to start cracking up at the faint memory of a 21st Century woman comparing him to Captain Ahab, followed by Picard throwing things around while screaming his head off about not losing his ship to the Borg.

…here's to hoping that the jolly old man didn't get a stroke after his ship got left dead in the water this time around.

Though I'm sure that…uh, whatever his name, the chief engineer, Louis or something, could get the Enterprise-E back up and running in a few hours. Especially with that droid friend of his, Lore or Data or Logic or something, helping him out.

And then I blinked as Sara stepped up next to me. "The orders have been given, ma'am." She said.

I nodded. "I can see that." I said, gesturing at the tactical display, where the fleet's Star Destroyers were forming up into a trio of wedges than then partially-overlapped into a single spearhead. All the while, the fleet's lighter vessels were falling back, jumping to hyperspace in squadrons just as the Special Attack Force and the interdictors had already done so.

And then Torrhen was arriving as well. "The word is given." He said. "Typhoon."

"Excellent," I said, adjusting the tactical display to focus on the Moon, and the Lacus Somniorum in particular, where the biggest antimatter production and storage facility in the Sol System was located at.

That'll make for one, very big explosion.

 

[iceknight90]

Does it still count as a war crime if both polities are not signatories to the same law? Probably? Oh well. Welcome to Star Wars baby! Planets and cities being wiped out by orbital bombardment are a regular Taungsday!

In any case, I look forward to seeing the long term repercussions of such a destructive act.

Will the Federation radicalise and start delving into some mad science, asymmetric warfare, and immoral (by Federation standards) acts?

Will it splinter as the various constituent races start focusing on the defence of their own home space to the exclusion of the greater Federation?

 

[Jaenera Targaryen]

Does it still count as a war crime if both polities are not signatories to the same law? Probably? Oh well. Welcome to Star Wars baby! Planets and cities being wiped out by orbital bombardment are a regular Taungsday!

Click to shrink...

Eh, the presence of Starfleet Command in the city made it a valid military target. About as valid as the USA or Israel using drones and cruise missiles to blow up insurgent leaders in the middle of heavily-populated areas. If the USA does it IRL, then it's obviously not illegal.

 

[iceknight90]

Eh, the presence of Starfleet Command in the city made it a valid military target. About as valid as the USA or Israel using drones and cruise missiles to blow up insurgent leaders in the middle of heavily-populated areas. If the USA does it IRL, then it's obviously not illegal.

Click to shrink...

Remember, it's only a war crime if you're the loser in the war.

 

[Jaenera Targaryen]

Remember, it's only a war crime if you're the loser in the war.

Click to shrink...

This is true, the winner gets all, always has been, and always will be.

 

[Jaenera Targaryen]

Turbolaser blasts shattered an Akira's shields, before another volley tore the ship apart. Moments later and it exploded in a blinding flash of light, as containment failed and antimatter freely reacted with the ship's hull and other components.

The Imperial Fleet surged forward at maximum battle speed, easily clearing high orbit. Well, at this point it was just the Star Destroyers left, the smaller and lighter vessels having since jumped into hyperspace on my orders. We held the rearguard, and once the rest of the fleet had retreated, we broke through the enemy left wing and advanced towards open, interplanetary space.

Not without interference, of course. Most of what was left of Starfleet's Home Fleet had disengaged and rushed towards low orbit, aiming to provide assistance and conduct rescue operations for the planet below, as a radioactive cloud spread over most of North America.

…

…

…

…

…

A part of me, rooted in the fading memories of my past life, felt regret and horror at that. Millions of people would have been killed by the bombardment alone, and millions, if not tens of millions more would follow as radioactive fallout spread across North America. This would leave a scar on the Human, or at least Terran psyche, for generations to come. Earth itself had been attacked, and in a way that would leave a physical scar that would last for thousands of years – assuming they didn't perform geological engineering to fix it – in the form of the radioactive crater that had once been San Francisco and its environs.

It wouldn't be the only scar either. Soon stories would be circulating of plants and animals, whether crops and livestock or flora and fauna in the wild, mutating and fatally falling ill from radiation sickness, followed by people soon after. And while the Federation's medical technology was incredibly-advanced, at least on par with the Empire's own, it would certainly struggle if not more so with the scale of the disaster I'd unleashed on the Earth.

Then the numbers would come, of the dead, injured, and missing, opening the psychological wound even wider, and darkening the resulting scar. Whether they liked it or not, the result of such physical and psychological scars could only be inevitable: Humanity…the Federation, must change.

…

…

…

…

…

Or not. The Eugenics Wars…World War III and the post-atomic horror…the Xindi and Romulan Wars…the Cold War between the Federation and the Klingon Empire…the Borg Invasions and then the Dominion War…

…through it all, they still refused to change. The nobility of their ideals aside, the Federation – Humanity – still stubbornly insisted on looking at the world and people around them, to say nothing of the stars above, with rose-colored glasses. I doubt Q wanted them to replace those glasses with jade-colored ones instead, but I was almost certain he wanted them to take those glasses off and just see.

See and live…

…I'm still not sure what he meant by the latter, but I was fairly certain about the former. And from the look and sound of things, it needed the Federation being passed through the crucible that was conquest by the Empire.

At the thought, a memory stirred from my past life, just a series of words from a novel whose name and characters I could no longer remember. What a shame…the words…struck a chord…

We're about to pass through the crucible, but we'll come out on the other side…rising from our own ashes…changed…

I closed my eyes, and sighing, pinched the bridge of my nose. I'm still a long way away from conquering the Federation, and this was only the first taste of the crucible's fire, a fire that would forge a new, stronger Humanity.

Green lances burned through space, dozens of Star Destroyers of various classes raining fire at distances nearly a hundred thousand kilometers out. Explosions blossomed above the Earth's atmosphere, as multiple defense stations exploded nearly at the same times. They might be able to stand up against Y-Wings, but against Star Destroyers?

Not a chance.

Then there was a blinding flash, enough to make me and Sara turn away, shielding our eyes. "What the hell was that?" I demanded.

Sara immediately checked the tactical display. "…it appears that the low orbit docks have been destroyed." She said. "The light was most likely the result of a runaway antimatter reaction."

"…I see…how much longer until the strike force arrives?"

"Estimated time is forty standard seconds."

I nodded, and narrowed my eyes. Already, those elements of the Home Fleet which had foolishly pursued us were breaking off, rushing back to orbit to assist crippled vessels which had retreated earlier in battle, to evacuate burning orbitals and drifting hulks, and of course, to pick up escape pods.

As for my core destroyer force, well, a number of ships had suffered serious damage, mostly Venators and some Victories, but no Imperials. I'd also lost only one Star Destroyer, the Venator Class Black Prince, which had been unlucky enough to take salvoes of quantum torpedoes in its hangar. The halves of said Star Destroyer were still hanging in orbit, and a potential treasure throve of intelligence and engineering data…

…except the Federation and United Earth would soon have bigger problems on their hands to go rooting about a wreck. A wreck that was about to become radioactive scrap too. Good thing my commanders and I had taken the trouble of picking up as many escape pods from our ships as we could.

I would not want to be in one of them when Typhoon struck as fast and fierce as its name.

"All ships have cleared the Earth's gravitational influence." Sara said.

I nodded, and silently looked through the bridge windows as I faintly heard the captain give the order. Then the starlines were stretching out to infinity, and the fleet jumped into hyperspace.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"The enemy fleet has jumped into the quantum slipstream." Anderson said, and Shanthi slumped into her seat with a weary sigh.

"How many?" she asked.

Matsuda worked away at his console for several seconds. "Out of one thousand and eighty-two ships at the start of the battle," he began. "Only two hundred and sixteen ships are left space-worthy. And thinking hopefully, only half of those are either combat-worthy or can be restored to combat readiness."

"And realistically-thinking?"

"…only a third, ma'am."

Shanthi shook her head. "Damn it…" she said, and then grit her teeth as she saw the radioactive cloud blotting out most of North America. "…damn it…GOD DAMN IT!"

With the battle over, Shanthi finally allowed her control to slip, and slammed a fist against her seat's armrest. "We're all but annihilated!" she spat. "The Home Fleet's gone, and we barely managed to scratch the enemy's battleship core! We…!"

Anything more was interrupted as alarms began to sound. "What's happening?" Matsuda demanded.

"Imperial warships have jumped into the Earth-Moon System." Anderson replied. "Reading…four Vindicator Class Heavy Cruisers, six Carrack Class Light Cruisers, and sixteen CR90 Corvettes. They dropped out of quantum slipstream approximately eighty thousand kilometers from Earth, and proceeding through the system at fifteen thousand kilometers per second."

"What are they up to now?" Shanthi softly asked before erupting in rage. "What is that damn Targaryen plotting?"

"Enemy fire detected…!" Anderson warned.

"What…?" Shanthi began to say, but was unable to finish as blinding light filled the viewscreen.

Unknown to the Starfleet Fleet Admiral, on dropping out of hyperspace, the fast attack force had immediately began spinning its drives up for an emergency hyperspace jump. Its course had been plotted and followed at maximum speed, carefully set to avoid being caught in the gravitational influence of either the Earth or the Moon.

And its weapons had sought out and locked onto the Lacus Somniorum, a volcanic plain located on the side of the Moon facing the Earth. The plain was an industrial region, home to over three hundred thousand people. Most of them worked in various heavy industries, ranging from metallurgy, to manufacturing, and precision engineering. Others worked in the service industries, such as medical and entertainment fields. Others more worked in the civil service, either as part of the local United Earth government, or providing oversight for the Federation.

It was a natural place to develop an industrial zone, though this was a given for the whole of the Lunar surface. The Moon was rich in metals and other minerals, vital as raw materials for heavy industry. Much of it was processed on the Moon itself, before being fed into local factories or exported to other places in the system. These included the even greater industrial districts and facilities on Mars, and the massive civilian and military shipyards over Earth, the Moon, and Mars.

Another major industry on the Moon was fuel production. Billions of years of exposure to the solar wind had deposited vast amounts of fusible elements into the Lunar regolith, and despite centuries of extraction, enough was left for centuries more at current rates of extraction, before the gas giants became the primary source of fuel for the fusion reactors that were the backbone of planetary energy infrastructures. To be sure, Earth's oceans, and those of some moons such as in the Jovian system could produce fusible elements as well, but environmental interests stood as massive and unyielding obstacles to such exploitation.

But fusible elements were only one kind of fuel. Fusion reactors provided auxiliary power for starships, yes, but they simply didn't have the output needed to make warp travel possible. And so like most known spacefaring species and organizations (the Romulans being an exception due to their mastery of artificial quantum singularities as energy sources), the Federation used antimatter to provide main power for starships, enough to sustain comfortable life in space and to achieve warp travel.

And so the Moon boasted the largest antimatter production and storage facilities in the entire Sol System, easily producing half the system's output. Sheer proximity to the great shipyard complexes and naval facilities both on Luna and the Earth overrode safety concerns, with both the Federation and United Earth within it addressing said concerns with multiple-redundancy safety and security measures, ensuring that there was virtually no chance of an accident occurring with such a volatile form of fuel.

There was also the risk of attack from the outside, but the Federation believed that was unlikely, given the presence of the Home Fleet. And certainly, it didn't seem there was any reason to worry. Subspace sensors around and surrounding the Sol System meant the Home Fleet could detect any incoming attack in advance and intercept before they could threaten the antimatter farms, and more importantly, no enemy had ever attempted to attack the antimatter farms or shown any indication of planning to do so.

Indeed, even in Starfleet Intelligence's worst-case scenarios, the antimatter farms, while a target, were not for destruction, but for capture. Capture and use the antimatter kept inside the farms as fuel for the occupation forces.

And most Starfleet officers believed no one would be so…savage, to attack the antimatter farms and potentially trigger so great a catastrophe as to make the Third World War's nuclear exchange look like a mere bar brawl.

That didn't take the Galactic Empire into account.

Interrogation of captured Starfleet officers had not only revealed to the Empire the existence of the antimatter farms, but also their precise location. This information had been further confirmed through under-the table deals between the Orion Syndicate and Imperial Intelligence, and again in the recent battle by reconnaissance flights by ARC-170 Starfighters.

And ultimately, it wasn't as though the location of the farms were state secrets. They serviced both military and civilian shipping, after all.

It took only few volleys from four Vindicator Class Heavy Cruisers to rupture the farms, and compromise the particle accelerators that made up the antimatter production lines. And then the Imperial Fleet was jumping to hyperspace, even as the escaping antimatter violently reacted with all the surrounding matter.

The resulting explosion shattered just over twenty-five per cent of the Moon into space-borne debris, much of it sent flying at significant fractions of the speed of light. The Moon was irradiated, guaranteeing a slow and painful death to anyone who stepped on its surface for more than an hour (if even that), though mercifully most of its population of approximately fifty million had been killed by the geological shock of what would be known as the Lacus Somniorum Catastrophe.

The radiation surge blinded the sensors across most of the Sol System, and destroyed what was left of Earth's orbital defense satellites, at least those not shielded by the Earth's mass. The people of Earth themselves were shielded by the magnetic field and the atmosphere of the planet, though anyone unfortunate enough to be looking to the Moon or to the sky was left blinded. Even then, aurorae would dance and swirl over Earth's atmosphere for years to come, as radiation from the Moon's corpse and high-energy particles left over from the catastrophe struck Earth's ionosphere.

As for what was left of Starfleet's Home Fleet, as well as the remaining orbital defense platforms…

…those on the ships and stations were safe, so long as their shields held, and with multiphasic shielding, even heavily-damaged ships did better than feared.

All their sensors and in some case, communication systems were fried though, and in cases where shields failed or had no shielding at all (like in hulks or escape pods)…

…rescue teams sent in months later reported finding boiled flesh fused into warped metal…

It would be weeks before the radiation settled down enough for anything more than short-range sensors could work in the Earth-Moon System, and all non-subspace communications beyond courier ships would be unusable for months, and unreliable for decades to come. It would also be months before anything unshielded could travel through the Earth-Moon System safely, necessitating the towing of damaged ships to Mars, for repairs and more.

Worse than that though, was that the Lacus Somniorum Catastrophe was not the only antimatter production and storage facility attacked. Two others in the asteroid battle, both producing between them the remaining half of the Sol System's antimatter, were also attacked and destroyed by the Empire. In their cases, their distance from the rest of the planet's inhabited worlds reduced the damage, but the radiation surges still further damaged the Sol System's already battered sensor infrastructure.

And this was only the opening blow of Operation Typhoon.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"What the hell happened here?"

The defenses of the Belsavis Gateway were battered, but holding. One of the Golan-IIs was gone, and another was on fire, escape pods and shuttles streaming away, the battle to contain its main reactor clearly having ended in defeat.

A third Golan-II had sustained moderate damage…

…and that was it, really. Well, there were less escorts around, and on a closer look, it seems that one of the assigned Victory Class Star Destroyers had been destroyed.

Kriff…

…a Star Destroyer destroyed…

…how…?

I sighed, as the redundancy of my first question was made clear by the sight of wrecked and burning Klingon Birds-of-Prey drifting across the battlefield. Then the nearby holoprojector was lighting up, and Vice Admiral Valaras Broxin was there, and sporting a bloody bandage around his forehead.

"Welcome back, admiral." He said.

"Admiral Broxin, you are injured." I noted.

"Just a minor injury, ma'am." He said. "A Klingon cruiser rammed my flagship, and I knocked my head on a railing. No concussion according to the doctor, though it did give me a fairly-bloody wound."

"…head wounds tend to bleed heavily." I admitted. "Now, report. And keep it short, I'm sure the details can wait for a written version."

"Yes, ma'am." Broxin said, and drawing himself up. "Approximately five standard hours after Operation Yellow's commencement, our CGTs detected large numbers of cloaked vessels approaching from multiple directions. Assuming they were hostiles, we opened fire, forcing them to decloak and engage in battle."

"And then what happened?" I asked.

"We held out long enough for reinforcements to arrive," Broxin said. "The Eighth and Ninth Battlegroups arriving in about fifteen standard minutes."

"And…?" I prompted.

"It took us just over an hour," Broxin continued, "But we managed to rout the enemy. About five hundred ships in all, mostly heavy cruisers, but also a number of corvettes. We managed to capture one heavy cruiser in fact, though the crew put up quite the fight. We lost three Spacetroopers, who I would put forward for posthumous promotions and commendations."

"Consider them granted, admiral." I said, feeling slightly-cheered by the news. Slightly – I should have expected the Klingons to join in…

…now, what about the Romulans? Or the Cardassians, for that matter?

Romulans were no friends of the Federation, even their cooperation against the Dominion required…manipulation, by Starfleet Intelligence to achieve. They were also notoriously-opportunistic. Hmm…that could prove problematic, and I'm not entirely sure if we could make an arrangement…

…the Cardassians…okay, probably no worries there. They were spent after the Dominion War, though they might go for Bajor. And…

…oh kriff…Bajor…and their space gods…

…one thing at a time, Jaenera. One thing at a time. Hopefully, I can figure out a way to get around that problem…hopefully…

…kriff…

"…intelligence and engineering are already poring over the captured vessel," Broxin was saying. "We should have preliminary reports ready by tomorrow afternoon at the latest."

"Very good, admiral." I said. "I'll expect a detailed report about the battle by this evening. In the meantime, focus on repairing damaged ships, picking up survivors, and repairing battle damage."

"Yes, ma'am." Broxin said with a salute. I saluted back, and then the hologram faded away.

"What do we do, admiral?" Torrhen asked.

"The lost Golan-IIs need to be replaced." I immediately said. "Reassign a battlegroup to assist in gateway defense until they are. We also need to adjust our long-term strategy, given this early appearance by the Klingons. I'd expected them to sit this one out for a bit longer, see how things were going before picking a side…well, now that they have, we're going to have to deal with it."

"As you say, ma'am." Torrhen said with a nod.

"For now though," I said. "Operations White and Typhoon will continue as planned. Similarly, all fleet units which fought as part of Operation Yellow will proceed on rotation to Sluis Van for full repairs. While at Sluis Van, personnel will have seventy-two standard hours of shore leave. Reinforcement and transfers will also proceed as planned therein."

"Yes, ma'am."

I nodded at him, and then took a deep breath. "Seeing as we'll be taking a breather," I began. "I suppose I should pay a courtesy visit to Grand Moff Tarkin at Eriadu as well. Sara, make the arrangements."

"Yes, admiral."

 

[iceknight90]

Indeed, even in Starfleet Intelligence's worst-case scenarios, the antimatter farms, while a target, were not for destruction, but for capture. Capture and use the antimatter kept inside the farms as fuel for the occupation forces.

And most Starfleet officers believed no one would be so…savage, to attack the antimatter farms and potentially trigger so great a catastrophe as to make the Third World War's nuclear exchange look like a mere bar brawl.

Click to shrink...

LOL. Said the Empire. LMAO.

Also, nice to see the other powers and factions of the Star Trek universe aren't just sitting around and have decided to make a move. It would be rather foolish of them to expect that they wouldn't be next on the chopping block after the Federation.

Oh it might not ever happen in their lifetime, it might take centuries or even millennia depending on how long the war against the Federation and subsequent consolidation of Federation space takes, but they'd be as naively optimistic as the Federation if they didn't take some necessary steps to feel out the Empire's defences and shore up their own.

 

[SirDawg]

LOL. Said the Empire. LMAO.

Also, nice to see the other powers and factions of the Star Trek universe aren't just sitting around and have decided to make a move. It would be rather foolish of them to expect that they wouldn't be next on the chopping block after the Federation.

Oh it might not ever happen in their lifetime, it might take centuries or even millennia depending on how long the war against the Federation and subsequent consolidation of Federation space takes, but they'd be as naively optimistic as the Federation if they didn't take some necessary steps to feel out the Empire's defences and shore up their own.

Click to shrink...

Can't say I'm surprised that it was the Klingons that saw the writing on the wall and decided to take some preemptive measures to see how far they would have to climb up to challenge this new worthy foe.

 

[Jaenera Targaryen]

Rear Admiral Japla Kala'myr looked on as the starlines stretched out to infinity, and then resolved into the billions of sparkling lights that were the stars of space. And in the distance, visible only as a slightly-brighter and bigger speck, was a space station, bigger than a Golan-II, but less formidable, at least in terms of gunnery.

That was their target: Starbase Epsilon, in the Kalandra Sector, on the far side of the Federation from the Imperial beachhead in the Orion Sector. Here, significant numbers of ships could be resupplied and repaired relatively-quickly. Though overall time depended on how many ships the starbase was expected to support, the crux of the matter was that Starbase Epsilon was a major link in the Federation supply chain.

And this, in turn, made it a viable target for Operation Typhoon.

A glance at the tactical display confirmed to Kala'myr that his fast attack force had come out of hyperspace without incident, with two Victory and Venator Class Star Destroyers each, the latter including his flagship, Thunderer. There were also six Carrack Class Light Cruisers and sixteen CR90 Corvettes providing screening for his fleet.

A solid force, if slightly-dated given the age of the Venator Class. More than enough to fulfil the orders given to them, of course. And as the recent Battle of Earth had shown, Venators for all their age were still Star Destroyers. Undergunned by modern standards, but still packing firepower and endurance worthy of their designation.

The grizzled veterans of the Clone Wars could still fight for the Empire, and even teach the next generation a few more lessons yet.

"Enemy launch detected." Lieutenant Magnus Monsula said. "Com-Scan indicates twelve Miranda Class Frigates, moving to surround us."

"Intelligence indicated that Starfleet was stripping their border outposts given the virtual annihilation of the Home Fleet." Kala'myr mused. "Twelve frigates seem a bit much, considering this sector's distance from the frontline…then again, the Miranda Class is supposed to be an old and outdated model like the CR70…"

"…the enemy has jumped to light-speed!" Magnus interrupted.

"They ran…?" Kala'myr began to say before the Thunderer shook. "What was that?"

"Torpedo strikes!" Magnus said, before the Thunderer shook again. Then in the distance, a CR90 exploded as its shields failed and photon torpedoes blew it apart. "Admiral…the torpedoes seem to be coming out nowhere!"

"Could those frigates have a cloaking device?" Kala'myr asked, even as the fleet began opening fire with its point-defense guns, and the Carracks launched their TIE Fighters to try and intercept the incoming torpedoes. "Wait…no…damn, they've wised up!"

"Sir?" Magnus asked, looking and sounding confused.

"It was in an intelligence debrief about the Federation's FTL drives." Kala'myr said. "Warp, they call it. It's slower than hyperdrive, very much so, taking nearly a century to traverse the galaxy where our hyperdrives would need only years at most through uncharted space, but it does allow for battles in and through light-speed."

"Through light-speed, sir?" Magnus asked a moment before his mind caught up. "It can't be…they're launching their torpedoes while at…warp?"

"They're probably running circles around us right now," Kala'myr snarled, clenching his fists in frustration at being made sport of like this. "And launching torpedoes at us while we can't fight back. Impudent bastards…!"

A flash of light briefly lit up the bridge, and the Thunderer shook again and harder this time, enough to floor several officers. "Direct hit on the bridge shields!" the shield officer warned. "No damage to the hull, but reinforcing our shields regardless."

"More enemy ships launching from the starbase." The sensors officer warned. "Reading another six Miranda Class Frigates, and two Excelsior Class Heavy Cruisers. They appear to be escorting a convoy of eight unarmed transports."

"Should we target them?" Captain Robert Devin asked. "They're well within…"

Magnus shook his head as the flag captain trailed off. "The enemy convoy has jumped to light-speed." He said.

Kala'myr set his jaw, staring through the windows as photon torpedoes exploded across the shields of the Victory Class Star Destroyer Superb. "And still their rearguard attacks us." He growled. "Fine…no matter if they've taken their crew, supplies, and removable equipment with them…just by destroying their infrastructure, we'll still achieve our goals here regardless. Signal all Star Destroyers: target the enemy space station with turbolasers. Full barrage!"

The order went out, and even as torpedoes continued to rain down on the Imperial Fleet, turbolaser batteries traversed their turrets and aligned their gunbarrels towards the target in the distance. Power conduits hummed as power was diverted from the main reactors of the Star Destroyers to their main guns, allowing more firepower to be brought to bear with every salvo.

"All ships report firing solutions plotted," Devin began. "Target locked, and ready to fire on your command."

"Fire." Kala'myr gave the order.

"Fire!" the gunnery officer relayed the order, and the order was in turn repeated by gunnery chiefs on all four Star Destroyers in the fast attack force. Emerald lances burned through space, smashing against the shields of the space station in the distance. They held out for just over a minute, and then collapsing, allowed the turbolaser to pummel the station itself.

Molten metal sprayed out into space accompanied by bursts of vapor and jets of plasma. Then the fusion reactor at the heart of the space station went critical, blowing the space station apart from the inside.

"Enemy space station destroyed." Devin triumphantly said. "Congratulations, sir."

Kala'myr stayed silent though, hands held behind his back as he watched the afterglow of the station's destruction fade away in the distance. And then they all noticed that the torpedo attacks had stopped. The enemy had retreated, it seemed.

"Recover all fighters." He finally said, "And then signal the fleet: jump to light-speed, and proceed to the next target."

"Yes, sir." Magnus said with a nod.

"Also," Kala'myr continued. "Send a priority transmission to expedition command. They'll want to know about this shift in the enemy's tactical operations."

The adjutant nodded his understanding. "Yes, sir." He said, before hurrying off.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"…virtually all antimatter production and storage facilities in the Terran Sector have been destroyed." A harried-looking lieutenant reported to a staff meeting between what was left of Starfleet Command, held in a conference room in a bunker buried deep beneath the Planum Boreum colony on Mars. "The Empire has also largely-destroyed antimatter production and storage facilities in the Vulcan and Andorian Sectors. We predict both sectors will also have no antimatter production and storage capabilities left within the next standard week at least. And based on reports through what's left of the subspace communications network, the Empire is also doing the same to antimatter production and storage facilities across most of Federation space."

"Most of Federation space?" the scratchy hologram of Admiral Ross asked.

It was Fleet Admiral Alynna Nechayev, newly-appointed head of Starfleet Security, who answered. "The Empire has refrained from attacking antimatter and production facilities in two sectors." She said. "Specifically, the Bajoran and Orion Sectors. In fact, they're avoiding the former as far as we can tell."

"Why?" Ross asked.

"We don't know." Nechayev answered. "But we and Starfleet Intelligence are working on it. With regard to the Orion Sector though…we have circumstantial evidence to suggest that the Empire may attempt to open negotiations with the Orion Syndicate soon."

"…criminal scum!" one admiral spat, and slamming a fist against the table angrily. "Like rats fleeing a sinking ship, is it?"

"We should deploy a force in strength to Orion immediately!" another admiral suggested. "Officially it could be just to reinforce our position immediately facing the enemy beachhead…"

"…but in reality to put the Orions back in line." Nechayev said before glancing at Shanthi, still the Commander-in-Chief of Starfleet despite the destruction of the Home Fleet in the Battle of Earth.

"That is out of the question." Shanthi firmly said. "Don't think the Orions or indeed, any Federation member race, won't see through such a pretense. By taking such a reactionary action without strong evidence backing it up, we give the impression of desperation, that of heavy-handedly putting an otherwise loyal member race under effective military occupation to discourage others from taking such a course of action."

"But fleet admiral," one admiral began. "Can we really afford not taking strong action to demonstrate our strength and resilience in these trying times?"

"Yes." Shanthi said, and shocking everyone. "We can afford not taking strong action, because we are strong. We do not need to prove anything."

"…that said," another admiral said after a moment. "Even if shouldn't act strong, we should take decisive action regardless."

"Meaning?" Ross asked.

The admiral adjusted the holographic display, and expanding it to show a star map of the whole Federation. Further adjustments highlighted engagements with the Empire over the last few days, then Earth, and finally, the Imperial Occupation Zone across the Orion and surrounding sectors.

"Over the past four days since the Battle of Earth," he began. "We've engaged the Empire a total of fifty-six times. Our losses from those skirmishes stand at one thousand, three hundred and forty-four ships, more than what we lost at Earth. Lost antimatter production and storage facilities have been listed down already, and need not be reiterated. And on top of those losses, in the past four days alone, we've lost twenty-four starbases, all the while our subspace communications network continues to remain under attack."

"In short," Ross said, eyes narrowed and the static shooting through his hologram seeming to punctuate his words. "The enemy is destroying our ability to fight the war in the long term."

"Precisely," the admiral said with a nod. "Our ability to communicate and coordinate with each other is compromised. Our ability to fuel our ships for extended periods of time is crumbling. And we are losing the ability to project power beyond major planetary bases, such as in the core worlds of Mars, Vulcan, and Andoria, or the capital worlds of the various sectors."

"And so we come to the point of your reasoning." Shanthi said.

"Yes, fleet admiral." The admiral said with another nod. "I believe we should gather all our remaining offensive capability while we still have it, and use it to defeat the enemy while they're still recovering from their losses in the Battle of Earth."

For several long moments, silence hung heavy over the table. Then the commander of the Second Fleet, Admiral Matthew Townsend, slowly nodded. "Between intelligence provided by the Klingons during their failed attack on the Orion Wormhole," he began. "And our own observations from the Battle of Earth and other skirmishes before and since, the Imperial Expeditionary Force only numbers between two thousand and three thousand ships."

"In contrast," Admiral Joshua Hart of the Third Fleet added. "Between our remaining fleets, we should have some four thousand ships, bigger by half assuming the upper end of our estimates for the Imperial Expeditionary Force's size."

"It's not an overwhelming numerical advantage," the admiral who brought up the notion said with a nod. "But that is the bare minimum number needed for offensive fleet action. Even more so, as we know from prisoners that Admiral Targaryen has withdrawn the greater part of her force to repair and reinforce after the Battle of Earth. I think this is an excellent opportunity to seize our side of the wormhole, and then attempt to seal it!"

Agreeing murmurs went up the table…

…and then silence, as Ross' hologram vanished. "Communications…?" Shanthi asked after patting her communicator. "What's happened?"

"…sorry ma'am," a communications officer replied after a moment. "But the network connection with Admiral Ross has gone down. We're attempting to get it back up, but the network degradation is such that we can't give you a reasonably-accurate estimate of when that'll be."

"…acknowledged." Shanthi said with a sigh. "Keep me posted."

"Yes, ma'am." The communications officer said before signing off.

Shanthi sighed again, as the admirals began aggressively talking with each other. Ideas on how to engage the Empire were thrown around, along with proposals on how to close the wormhole, even speculation on the potential use of various weapons of mass destruction, ranging from subspace weapons, to the Genesis device, and even the so-called Doomsday Machine. Shanthi pinched the bridge of her nose, mentally counting to ten to bring the side of her incensed and roaring for vengeance for the destruction of the Home Fleet and the Lacus Somniorum Catastrophe back under control, and forcing herself to think calmly and rationally.

Raising her head, swept her gaze across the increasingly-bellicose and aggressive admirals, before meeting Nechayev's eyes. The two women locked gazes, and then after a long moment, nodded as one.

Nechayev rapped her knuckles against the table, and drawing everyone's attention to her. "While it is a tempting opportunity," she said. "And the reasoning behind it is sound, I cannot support such an attack at this time."

Mixed sounds of surprise and confusion went up at that. "And why not?" Townsend asked.

"Admiral Hart mentioned we have some four thousand ships." Nechayev said. "But like he said, that represents all our remaining combat strength. It would mean exposing all our space to attack, and the Federation has more enemies than just the Empire."

"But," Townsend began. "Surely they can see how the Empire is a threat not just to the Federation, but to every sovereign race in the galaxy. Much like against the Dominion, isn't this a time to stand together against a common enemy, instead of turning on one another, and allowing the Empire to pick up the pieces?"

"I assume you refer to our alliance with the Romulans during the Dominion War." Nechayev began. "But you must remember that the Romulans were perfectly-content to sit the war out should the Dominion simply recognize their interests, and required active interference in Romulan internal affairs plus outright deception on the part of Starfleet Intelligence to actually join the coalition against the Dominion."

"…whatever happened to the Prime Directive…" one of the admirals present mutinously muttered, though no one responded beyond eyes turning his way.

"And even then," Nechayev continued. "Ours was an alliance of convenience, lacking in real substance beyond a common enemy. Once the Dominion had been brought to terms, Romulan-Federation relations have returned to status quo ante bellum."

Nechayev paused, and then brought up an update to the holographic map that had Starfleet's admirals gaping in shock, disbelief, and betrayal. "Ladies and gentlemen," Nechayev said with a smile that did not match the cold fury in her eyes. "As of twelve hours ago, we have confirmed that the Romulan Star Empire has occupied the Neutral Zone."

Uproar erupted across the table, with Shanthi's shouting failing to quiet the admirals' outrage. It took the fleet admiral getting to her feet and slamming a fist against the table to get them to quiet down and pay attention.

"Thank you." Shanthi said with veiled sarcasm and a note of warning. Then she turned to Nechayev. "Fleet admiral, you were saying?"

"Yes, ma'am." Nechayev said with a nod. "While the Romulans have so far refrained from sending their warbirds into the sectors adjacent to the Neutral Zone, I think the intent is clear. They have no intention of standing with us, and indeed, may be keeping an eye out for any gains at the Federation's expense."

"And that is why I will not agree to strip our borders of protection." Shanthi said. "It's not just the Romulans to be concerned about, of course. They are simply the most visible, and possibly not even the most formidable. The Tholians may seek to expand their claims at our expense, and the Breen are no friends to us. The Cardassian nationalists may also see this as an opportunity to regain power and influence in the Cardassian Union, and even use the prospect of gains in the bordering sectors to distract their citizenry from social and economic difficulties at home."

Shanthi paused, and raised her hand. "Rest assured, honored colleagues," she said. "I am not advocating inaction. I simply stand against thoughtless reaction. Even if we win against the Empire, it means nothing if we can only stand by and watch in the aftermath as our other enemies cut us to pieces."

"Well then," Hart said with a deferent nod. "What should we do, fleet admiral?"

"I am deploying the Fifth Fleet to the Beta Sector," Shanthi said. "And from there, they will deter potential Romulan incursions to the Beta Sector and the adjacent Yadalla and Omicron Sectors, as well as the Typhon Sector on the other side of the Omicron Sector."

"What of the Antares, Omega, and Archanis Sectors?" an admiral asked.

Shanthi sighed. "Antares and Omega are too close to the Empire for us to risk substantial forces therein." She said. "Archanis though…the president will be making contact with the Klingons to see if they can spare the strength to deter the Romulans from entering the Archanis Sector."

Nods and agreeing murmurs went up around the table. "Speaking of the Klingons though," Shanthi continued. "I have also spoken with the president, and we have agreed that in order to take offensive action against the Empire without leaving ourselves defenseless, we must join our fleet strength with the Klingons to obtain the weight of numbers needed. The details to be presented and discussed have yet to be determined…and that is our task here."

"I suggest we place the Fourth, Eighth, and Ninth Fleets on strategic reserve." Nechayev immediately said. "That's around one thousand and five hundred ships, about the same number of Imperial ships which attacked the Earth. With that same number of ships from the Klingons, we can match the predicted upper bracket of the Imperial Expeditionary Force's numbers."

"…not an ideal tactical situation," Townsend said. "But we could do worse. What of the remaining fleets?"

"For the time being, the Second and Third Fleets will remain here at Sol." Shanthi said. "The Sixth Fleet will support the Vulcan Defense Force in the Vulcan Sector, and the Seventh Fleet will do the same for the Andorian Imperial Guard in the Andorian Sector."

"I see."

Shanthi nodded. "It's far from ideal." She said. "But that is the reality of things. We must face and accept that fact, because only then can we really begin to work to overcome this situation. And that is what we must decide here and now: a proposal for a joint strategy between ourselves and the Klingons, as well as how to best mitigate the worsening circumstances on Earth."

A silence briefly fell over the table, one soon broken by whispers and murmurs.

"…over three hundred million dead, injured, and missing…

"…that number rises by millions at the least every day…"

"…the electrical and communications infrastructure is all but nonexistent…"

"…transportation infrastructure is collapsing with the round the clock meteor strikes…"

"…geological and climatic upheavals are getting more common by the day…"

Shanthi closed her eyes in sympathy, and then taking a deep breath, rapped her knuckles against the table to draw attention her way. "My thoughts go out to the people of Earth," She said. "As do yours. But our thoughts can only do them so much good. Our actions will do so much more."

Agreeing nods went up around the table, and Shanthi smiled. "Right then," she said. "Let's all take a twenty-minute break to collect ourselves, and on our return, put together concrete plans of action for both Earth and against the Empire. Any questions…? None…? Then dismissed."

 

[iceknight90]

"But," Townsend began. "Surely they can see how the Empire is a threat not just to the Federation, but to every sovereign race in the galaxy. Much like against the Dominion, isn't this a time to stand together against a common enemy, instead of turning on one another, and allowing the Empire to pick up the pieces?"

"I assume you refer to our alliance with the Romulans during the Dominion War." Nechayev began. "But you must remember that the Romulans were perfectly-content to sit the war out should the Dominion simply recognize their interests, and required active interference in Romulan internal affairs plus outright deception on the part of Starfleet Intelligence to actually join the coalition against the Dominion."

Click to shrink...

HAHAHAHA. Oh that is adorable. Townsend, did you get your admiralty for handing in a nice crayon drawing and not wetting your pants during kindergarten?

Jokes aside, I'm impressed at that Warp Speed tactic that the Federation are pulling. I look forward to them coming up with some more crafty moves and mad science weapons.

 

[Jaenera Targaryen]

HAHAHAHA. Oh that is adorable. Townsend, did you get your admiralty for handing in a nice crayon drawing and not wetting your pants during kindergarten?

Click to shrink...

Remember that the 24th Century Starfleet is the same Starfleet that William 'Combat is Only a Small Part of a Starfleet's Officer's Duty' Riker belongs to.

Jokes aside, I'm impressed at that Warp Speed tactic that the Federation are pulling. I look forward to them coming up with some more crafty moves and mad science weapons.

Click to shrink...

That said, it's of mixed effectiveness, as shown in the skirmish above. The Empire basically just ignored Starfleet and blew the starbase in the distance apart with long-range turbolaser strikes.

 

[iceknight90]

Remember that the 24th Century Starfleet is the same Starfleet that William 'Combat is Only a Small Part of a Starfleet's Officer's Duty' Riker belongs to.



That said, it's of mixed effectiveness, as shown in the skirmish above. The Empire basically just ignored Starfleet and blew the starbase in the distance apart with long-range turbolaser strikes.

Click to shrink...

Well, got to give them credit for trying.

 

[Jaenera Targaryen]

"Well," I thought to myself, as my Lambda Class Shuttle made its final approach towards the Eriadu Governor's Palace, home and headquarters of Wilhuff Tarkin. The Grand Moff of Oversector Outer, and one of the few people in the entire Empire to command influence equal to – and in some ways, greater than – the Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Vader. "Here we go."

It wouldn't be my first time meeting the man, of course. Back during the Clone Wars, I'd attended many briefings and staff conferences with then-Admiral Tarkin in attendance. The trend continued after the Clone Wars, though he was no longer admiral by then, but Moff of the Seswenna Sector, before finally achieving his current post. This would be the first time I'd be meeting him one-on-one though, and given his reputation (and what I knew of the man from my memories of my past life), I could be forgiven some measure of…anxiety, at the coming evening.

That, and this would apparently be a dinner between the two of us, with only his household staff and our adjutants present.

Glancing out the viewport, I looked on as the shuttle circled once around the ziggurat-like structure of the Eriadu Governor's Palace, before alighting on one of several landing pads built on and around the titanic structure. Undoing my safety harness, I took the lead out of the shuttle, trusting in my pilot and copilot to handle the shuttle's disposition on their own. Sara followed my lead, of course, being the good staff officer that she was.

Twin files of Stormtroopers greeted me on my arrival, an honor guard led by a man with a commander's rank plaque, Grand Moff Tarkin's adjutant no doubt. The man greeted me with a salute as I approached.

"Admiral Targaryen," he began. "I am Commander Travar Silth. Welcome to Eriadu."

"At ease, commander." I said while returning the salute, Sara doing the same behind me.

"If you will follow me, admiral," Silth continued while gesturing invitingly with one hand. "The governor has asked me to escort you to the dining room. He apologizes for not being here to greet you on your arrival, but he has a number of tasks to attend to."

"Understandable," I said, while following the commander's lead. "He is Grand Moff of Oversector Outer, after all. And far from me to criticize a superior officer's pursuit of his duties."

"As you say, ma'am."

As the commander fell silent, I took the opportunity to take a look at the city around us. Eriadu City was the capital not just of the planet, or even of the surrounding Seswenna Sector, but of the whole Oversector Outer. Eriadu was also a major trading hub, and the capital city reflected both that and its political importance.

All the heavy industry in the city left visible banks of smog drifting with the wind though, blowing away from the manufacturing districts and over the working class habitat blocks. The financial district's skyscrapers glittered in the afternoon twilight, brightly reflecting the setting Sun's light, windows shimmering with internal lights, while speeders sparkled as they flew in neat lanes between and around the buildings. And then there were the high class residential districts, surrounding and including the government buildings. Complex mansions in various sizes languidly stretched out amidst expensively-kept greenery, protected by high security walls, and in many cases, no doubt sporting private security forces as additional protection.

Not that the local nobles had much use for them, even with the games of intrigue common to nobles all over the galaxy. Not with Grand Moff Tarkin in charge here, for the man had little patience for feudal chicanery of any kind.

One unquestionably-respectable trait of the man, no doubt about it.

Then we were passing through the doorway and into the palace, so I turned away from the sights of the city. That said, I now found myself thinking of the images that intelligence had provided of the cities of 24th Century Earth. Then I found myself comparing them to the great cities of the galaxy I'd grown up in in this second life of mine.

And then I found myself comparing them to my fading memories of the 21st Century.

Strangely enough, I found myself comparing the cities of the galaxy favorably with what had once been during my first life. I'm not really sure what it said about me, but I found the cities of the 24th Century to be…

…too clean…

…squeaky-clean, I might even say. Toy towns…

…not real cities, devoid of the hustle and bustle, controlled chaos, and frantically-paced life that cities should have.

Even Nar Shaadaa was preferable to any of 24th Century Earth's toy towns. I internally made a face at the notion. When the slimy, filthy, disease-ridden underbelly of the galaxy had more life in it than the utopian metropoles of 24th Century Earth…

…where did Humanity go wrong?
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I rose from my seat as Grand Moff Tarkin entered the dining room, standing to attention and giving a smart salute. Sara did the same next to me, the both of us holding position while the governor made his way to the opposite side of the table. Then Tarkin himself stood to attention, returning the salute along with his adjutant.

"At ease." He said, before dismissing his adjutant. I did the same to Sara, the younger woman sharply turning and walking to stand against a wall. The governor then gestured for me to sit, before he himself did so.

Waiters then arrived, taking table napkins from in front of us and spreading it on our laps for us. Another opened a bottle of wine – Algarine White, from the smell of it, well, if so then the governor had good taste – and poured for the both of us.

"It seems congratulations are in order, admiral." Tarkin said, toasting me. "Your campaign seems to be proceeding as planned."

"Thank you, sir." I said, returning the toast.

The two of us took small sips of our wine, even as the waiters returned with a bowl of salad. "I must admit, admiral," Tarkin began, while the waiters dressed and seasoned our salad. "I had my doubts when the Emperor appointed you as the commander of the expeditionary force through the Belsavis Gateway. Your combat experience was limited to hunting down Mid Rim pirates before the Clone Wars, and your specialization in logistics is more suited for a staff officer than a field commander."

I took another sip of wine to moisten my lips and brace myself. "I cannot deny my relative lack of combat experience." I began. "It is only a matter of fact, after all. That said, I lack the wisdom to know His Excellency's reasoning for giving me this command. All I can do is be thankful for the opportunity, and to fulfil my responsibilities to the best of my ability."

"That you certainly have done." Tarkin said with genuine approval, as the waiters began to serve us salad. "I read the report on the Battle of Earth. At first glance, it appears nothing more than a well-conducted but otherwise orthodox fleet engagement. But then one comes to the final phase of the operation…Admiral Targaryen, what is beginning to be called the Targaryen Gambit has set tongues wagging across the Imperial Armed Forces, especially in the navy. Whether it's in the conference rooms of Admiralty, or in the officers' lounges and academy classrooms, the implications of your…inspired tactic, has tacticians furiously debating with one another."

"While I'm flattered that the navy thinks so highly of me," I said. "It was a major gamble for me."

"A gamble that paid off." Tarkin said.

"Well, yes," I agreed. "But it required extensive simulations by multiple tactical computers working in sync with one another, and indeed, taking the better part of a day to calculate the proper positions of our interdictors to ensure the Special Attack Force would be pulled from hyperspace at the proper location to commence bombardment, and not too far or worse, be thrown into the planet's atmosphere."

"True," Tarkin agreed in turn. "But gambles, while dangerous, are what are sometimes called for in order to achieve victory. If they fail, then of course one must take responsibility for them. But if they succeed…well, there is no reason not to accept due praise for one's achievement."

"Thank you, sir."

Tarkin nodded and took another drink of his wine. "If I might ask," he began. "What inspired you to come up with the Targaryen Gambit?"

I hesitated for a moment, but making it appear as just veiled embarrassment. I could hardly admit I'd poached the tactic from someone who wasn't even an officer in the Imperial Navy yet, not for several more years at any rate, and who wouldn't come up with it for at least another decade if not more. I mean…how would that even be possible?

Well, I knew the answer to that, but I couldn't give that answer either. Fortunately, I knew I'd be facing this question sooner or later, and come up with an answer.

"To be honest sir," I began. "The inspiration was an academic question."

"Oh?"

I nodded. "I was thinking of how to best use interdictors in this campaign, with their ability to pull ships out of hyperspace or other forms of traveling at light-speed." I said. "And then I found myself asking: if interdictors can pull enemy or rebel ships out of light-speed and right where we want them, can they also not do the same for our own ships?"

Tarkin digested that answer for several more moments, while I braced myself with another drink of wine. And then he chuckled and smiled. "I suppose there is a lesson to be learned there." He admitted. "Not to get too caught up in complexities that one misses simple solutions, and which more often than not work best. Or for that matter, are less prone to going wrong at inopportune moments."

"As you say, sir." I said.

"Oh dear me," Tarkin then said, setting aside his glass and picking up his utensils. "It seems we've gotten too engrossed in our conversation that we'd forgotten our meal. We can continue after this course."

"Yes, sir." I said, while also picking up my utensils.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"I have to say though," Tarkin began while dabbing at his mouth with his table napkin, while the waiters replaced our china and silverware. "The most impressive part of your campaign is less the one major fleet engagement you've committed to so far, as much as the rest of your ongoing operations."

"You speak of Operations White and Typhoon." I said.

"Indeed," Tarkin said with a nod before giving a wintery smile. "Typhoon's first blow in particular was most impressive. You not only succeeded in destroying a major fuel production and storage facility, or even the surrounding industrial facilities, but devastated the enemy capital planet."

I hummed at that, struggling not to let my discomfort show, or the way my stomach turned at the reminder of how Typhoon's first blow had turned out to be so…devastating. I expected a massive explosion, enough to leave a crater visible to the naked eye from Earth, considering all that antimatter. I didn't know there was enough antimatter there to blow a large part of the Moon to bits, much less release enough energy to fry Earth's infrastructure across the whole planet.

Kriff it, why the hell did the Federation even put that much antimatter on the Moon anyway?

…

…

…

…

…

Okay, never mind that. I'm a logistician, I know the answer to that. Stupid questions and all…

…still, I never expected that big an explosion. This is going to make a mess of things to put back together for when the war is done.

Chaos damn it all.

"With all due respect, sir," I began. "I consider that a major miscalculation on my part. The goal was to destroy the enemy's fuel production and storage capabilities on their capital planet's moon, and limiting their ability to support a fleet in their home system. And while I expected significant damage to the local industrial capacity, I had planned to capture most of what was left when we finally launch Operation Blue."

Tarkin hummed and nodded slowly in thought, as the waiters brought in hot soup. Other waiters refilled our glasses, though I drank water for now, to keep my head clear. Tarkin sipped at his wine, and then tapped a finger thoughtfully at the table for several moments. Finally, he smiled.

"Economic plunder, admiral?" he asked. "Is that also why no shipyards and other production and manufacturing facilities are among Operation Typhoon's targets?"

"That is correct, sir." I said with a nod. "It doesn't matter if the enemy is still able to build ships and armaments, if they cannot fuel their fleets, much less have field bases to operate from. And if their fleets are immobilized, then their armies are trapped on their worlds. The initiative will belong solely to us, and we can set the tempo of the war at will."

"Destroy the enemy one by one." Tarkin said with a nod. "Yes, a basic principle of warfare, and one that allows for efficient concentration of force."

"As you say, sir."

Tarkin nodded while taking a drink of water as well. "Your admission of responsibility for the miscalculation at the beginning of Operation Typhoon does you credit." he eventually said. "Though I see no reason to hold you accountable for it."

"Sir?"

"The operation's goal is to break the enemy's supply chain." Tarkin said. "For all that it was a miscalculation, the opening blow of Operation Typhoon has succeeded in that goal. As has the rest of the ongoing operations' actions. Between Typhoon and White, the Imperial Fleet operates freely across Federation space, destroying their fleet's logistical train and their subspace communications network at will. This, together with the devastation of their capital planet, proves the Federation to be a broken reed."

Tarkin paused, and smiled knowingly. "Fear," he said with emphasis. "Fear of the Empire…fear of the Imperial Fleet, now spreads across the Federation."

I swirled the water in my glass before draining it. "It will certainly make discussing terms for surrender much easier." I said, and Tarkin smiled wider.

"Indeed." he said with an approving nod. How could he not? That was the Tarkin Doctrine in a nutshell: rule through fear of force than by force itself.

Not a bad idea…

…so long as you could back that fear up with actual force should the enemy call your bluff, that is.

With that thought in mind – though taking care not to let it show – I started on my serving of soup.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"What are your postwar plans for the New Territories, admiral?" Tarkin asked while the waiters were serving us a fish course.

"That is a matter to be decided by His Excellency and the Ruling Council, and not myself." I said at once.

Tarkin raised an eyebrow, and looking at me in the eyes. I made sure to meet his gaze unflinchingly and without hesitation of any kind. "Perhaps," he finally said. "But surely you have some opinions on the matter. And what of the Imperial Senate? Things have changed with the rise of the New Order, but the Imperial Senate continues to provide oversight for the bureaucracy."

I hummed in thought for a few moments. "The former Federation territories are vast." I finally said. "Not nearly as vast as any of the galaxy's major regions, but large enough to warrant being made an Imperial Oversector under a grand moff, answering directly to His Excellency. Individual sectors, of course, are to be assigned under the governance of moffs under the previously-mentioned grand moff."

"And…senatorial representation?" Tarkin pressed.

"I would hold off on senatorial representation for at least a decade." I said. "Maybe two or more…we must make certain that imperialization of the local population is firmly rooted, and an explicitly pro-Imperial upper and middle class established. Until then, senatorial representation for individual sectors would be premature, and would cause more harm than good to Imperial interests in the region."

Tarkin nodded in thought. "A prudent course of action," he said. "I find myself inclined to agree."

I bowed curtly. "Thank you, sir." I said.

"Earlier though," Tarkin continued while starting on his serving of battered fish. "You mentioned discussing terms of surrender for local polities, did you not?"

"I did sir." I admitted. Oh boy, here we go.

"And what would you offer them?" Tarkin asked.

"The same rights and privileges all subject systems and planets of the Empire enjoy." I said. "Though of course, they will have to understand that there will be obligations on their part as well."

"Such as?"

"Imperial taxation, for one." I said, and to my credit, I actually managed to get Tarkin to give a wintery smile of amusement at that. "They must also understand their place in the governing structure of the Empire, that is, individual worlds and systems within a given sector answer to a regional governor appointed by His Excellency. And that those regional governors then answer to a higher-ranked governor, who then answers directly to His Excellency."

"Good starting points…is that all?" Tarkin continued.

"All worlds with major industrial capabilities and population centers will require Stormtrooper garrisons." I continued. "Minor worlds will most likely be left to the Imperial Army, barring major insurgencies. Of course, the Imperial Navy will require bases to operate from."

Tarkin nodded with approval. "The new sector and oversector fleets will certainly need ports to call home," he said. "In order to enforce the New Order within the New Territories."

"As you say, sir."

"I notice that you leave out the economic side of things." Tarkin continued. "Especially as from what I can tell based on various reports, the Federation appears to have adopted some kind of…communal, system, in place of a proper economy."

"With all due respect, sir," I began. "I'm not an economist. I do think the Empire will have to build a proper economy from scratch…"

Kriffing Communists…whether it's in this life or the previous one…they always make trouble where there should be none…

"…but the details will have to be left to economic experts, perhaps with assistance from major, and previously-vetted, corporate interests." I continued. "Though I suppose we could start by nationalizing key industries, such as metallurgy, shipbuilding, the public utilities, the aerospace industries, and armaments production, and then form new corporations, with shares split between the regional governments and private shareholders. I…I might be able to come up with some more ideas, but…again, with all due respect, sir, I'm a soldier, not an economist. I never really thought much about this, beyond privately cursing the Federation for not having a proper economy in the first place."

"Understandable, admiral." Tarkin graciously said. "Still, that idea of yours, of corporations with mixed ownership is an intriguing one. I'm sure there will be quite a few people interested in hearing about them."

"I…yes, sir."

"Rest assured, admiral." Tarkin said with a hand raised reassuringly. "I do not hold you responsible for not having thought much of this matter, because as you say, you are an officer of the Imperial Navy, and not an economist."

"Yes, sir. And thank you, sir."

Tarkin nodded. "Still," he said. "I'm sure you've given much thought about the planned occupation, and while I've read the details in your report for what you call Plan Zerek, I'd like to discuss it in further detail. Along with what you call Plan Mern-Osk, with regard to the Federation's neighbors. Later though, for now let us continue with our meal."

"Yes, sir."

 

[iceknight90]

Looks like we've reached where this ended on SB.

And it looks like Admiral Targaryen has made a powerful ally and supporter.

No doubt Grand Moff Tarkin will watch her career with great interest.

Let's hope that's more of a good thing than a bad thing.

 

[Wild Transient]

Buckle your seatbelts guys, what comes after this update is gonna be a wild ride.

 

[MaddestBob]

I swear I've read a few more chapters on this somewhere, maybe FF, but I agree things will get even more interesting from here out.

 

[Wild Transient]

I swear I've read a few more chapters on this somewhere, maybe FF, but I agree things will get even more interesting from here out.

Click to shrink...

There are more chapters on The Sietch forum, though its on hiatus (i think) there.

 

[Jaenera Targaryen]

"…the Council of Matriarchs has agreed to our proposed terms," Ambassador Ubbal Lee said, his hologram flickering as he spoke over subspace radio from the planet of Orion. "Though it seems they expect Admiral Targaryen, as the senior Imperial officer for the expeditionary force as a whole, will be the one to sign it for the Empire."

"I don't like it." Torrhen immediately growled. "It smells like a trap."

"Well, yes." Ubbal said with a cough. "One of the council's…indentured servants, passed on a data chip hidden inside a baked sweet during the formal reception after we concluded our negotiations."

The man then turned to one of the men on the Courageous' command deck, wearing the olive-grey uniform of an officer, but lacking any of their rank plaques or code cylinders. Going by the sole name of Wolf, he was the senior Imperial Intelligence operative for the expeditionary force, and who answered directly to the Ubiqtorate.

"We're still preparing a proper response." The man said. "But yes, it's apparently the detailed plan by what the Federation calls 'Section 31' for your capture, admiral, during the treaty's signing."

"Section 31?" Torrhen echoed. "Is that what they call their version of intelligence?"

"So it would seem, sir." Wolf confirmed.

I just snorted at that. "I'd be disappointed if the Federation didn't try something during the treaty's signing." I said.

"Admiral?" Torrhen echoed in surprise.

"Think about it, chief of staff." I said, while beginning to pace. "Even before our arrival the Federation was a society on the brink of its own destruction…just like the Old Republic was before the Clone Wars. More than that, even. We all remember the Old Republic, and how it held similar ideals of multi-species cooperation and a collective pursuit of an egalitarian society. But we all also remember the decadence and hedonism that led to the Clone Wars. How it was just a façade…a gaudy shell for the rot inside…"

I paused, and made sure the meet the eyes of everyone present, not just my fellow naval officers, but also the agents of Imperial Intelligence and the Imperial Security Bureau (ISB). "…it's even why the New Order exists." I finally said. "To enforce unity, order, and obedience on the galaxy left in ruins by the Clone Wars, to rebuild and surpass what was lost, and to prevent such a devastating conflict from ever happening again."

"And your point is, ma'am?" Wolf asked.

"Like I said," I replied. "The Federation and the Old Republic have many similarities. Not just the idealism of the government and the directionless self-indulgence of the fat and pampered citizenry, but also a predominantly-Human leadership whose power was under threat from aliens both within and without."

I was laying it on a little thick here, but it wasn't completely wrong, and it was certainly selling the point well enough. "But while all too many leaders lack the strength and will to do anything about it, others do." I finally said. "That we are all here is proof of that. The very existence of the New Order is also proof of that."

Wolf nodded slowly in understanding, while ISB Agent Hiram Thorn looked thoughtful. "Do you think our campaign here is their version of the Clone Wars?" the latter asked.

"It could be seen that way," I admitted. "But that would be a superficial observation, for all that it would have a similar effect. No, though. I do not think so. Their version of the Clone Wars, a crucible in which their society would be tested and perhaps reforged by fire – the fires of war – would probably have erupted in a decade or so had the wormhole not opened, and we not launched our expedition."

I paused and waved a hand through the air. "In any case," I continued. "My point is that not every one of the Federation's leaders are decadent fools with no stomach for war. The politicians certainly so, more so than the Old Republic's leaders, even, considering their Starfleet is both military and scientific and exploration arm in one. Even many – if not most – of Starfleet's officers are academics and intellectuals who wouldn't last a day in a professional military such as that of our own. But there are exceptions, just like we once were in the Old Republic's anemic military before the Clone Wars."

I paused again, and nodded. "I don't expect Osvald Teshik," I continued. "But I do expect that with the war having shaken up this galaxy – or at least this region of it – the Federation has shaken off much of the rot and decay it's buried itself in, just as we've trimmed off a lot of the fat with our operations. Only competent individuals should be in charge now…but if not, I'd be very disappointed."

Wolf frowned at that. "If the Federation is finally starting to take the war seriously," he said. "Then we don't have much time to waste."

"Operation Blue will be starting the week after next." I said with a nod. "Plus-minus a few days, considering the need to expand operational planning to accommodate new intelligence, specifically with Operations Balerion and Vhagar."

Nods went around in understanding, the nascent plans for the attacks on Vulcan and Andor being well-known to expeditionary command. "Once we have control of the Federation's core worlds," I continued. "The war will be as good as won."

"But in the meantime," Torrhen chimed in, and following my train of thought on his own. "We will continue with Operation Typhoon."

"That," I said with a nod. "And one other operation. Just a small one, but potentially critical to the success of Plan Zerek."

"Ma'am?" Wolf asked in surprise.

"Hmm…let's see…" I mused to myself. "…yes, that would work. The code name will be Meraxes…"

I paused to smile, again meeting the eyes of my fellow officers. "The Federation will attempt to draw us into a trap at Orion." I said. "If so, then let us spring it, and breaking the trap, punch the Federation in the face. In doing so, we prove that just because we're negotiating, it doesn't mean we've reached the limits of our military capabilities. No, we're negotiating because we can afford to be gracious, and not because we need to be."

Chuckles and wolfish smiles went up at that, even as Wolf pulled up the data on the holoprojector, and the Federation's plans on Orion brought up.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Days later, and the Imperial Expeditionary Force's First Battlegroup hung in high orbit over the planet Orion. At its core was a powerful force of thirty Star Destroyers, mostly aging Venators as well as Victory Is, but also a small number of Imperials, including the Imperial flagship, Courageous.

It was from the Courageous that a Lambda shuttle emerged, escorted by a full squadron of TIE Fighters to one of the spaceports that serviced the Orion capital city on the surface. An honor guard dispatched by the Council of Matriarchs was present, waiting for the admiral's arrival. Contingents from Orion Capital Security were also present, reinforcing the private security forces holding the spaceport in the name of the Geshi Consortium, itself a subsidiary of the greater Laisha Cartel, in turn owned by the influential House Daga, one of twelve lineages currently entitled by their wealth and holdings to sit on Orion's Council of Matriarchs.

Three squads of Stormtroopers arrived with Admiral Jaenera Targaryen, who curtly exchanged greetings with the honor guard's commander. Two of the Stormtrooper squads stayed with the shuttle, the third squad joining the honor guard aboard a grav-gondola that would take them to the Citadel, where the Council of Matriarchs awaited.

The trip was quick and uneventful, but not for long.

Even as the grav-gondola passed through the Citadel's outer perimeter, an explosion in the distance, in the blocks surrounding the Citadel, caused alarm. The grav-gondola immediately alighted, honor guard and Stormtroopers rushing the admiral out and towards the Citadel proper, and the safety that it promised.

Then another explosion erupted, this time just down the street from the main gates of the Citadel's curtain wall. It was a car bomb, of all things…

…and then the gate itself exploded, the brilliance of its flare and the heat of the blast revealing the type of explosive device used: plasma.

Lights flickered across the outer court, as transporters deployed men and women in unmarked battle armor over urban-patterned fatigues. Phaser rifles rose and opened fire, Starfleet commandoes spreading out to take cover while engaging, moving fluidly and with greater combat awareness than previous examples of Starfleet ground troops had ever shown.

Stormtroopers and honor guard opened fire, even as the Citadel Guard also engaged. All across the outer court, firefights erupted, and then the Citadel itself reeled, as more plasma devices knocked out the transport inhibitors that protected its interior.

"Priority alert!" the alarm sounded across the Orion channels. "Multiple Starfleet commandoes across the Citadel! All Citadel Guard forces are to engage immediately! Destroy the intruders! Protect the matriarchs!"

"Capital Security will attempt to reinforce the Citadel." Another alarm sounded over Capital Security's channels. "However, multiple Starfleet commandoes are attacking across the city. Priority targets: Grand Embassy Complex, Space Navigation Office, Public Broadcast Center, Central Traffic Office, Trans-Orbital Ground Control Station, Goods Distribution Control Center, Capital Security Headquarters, Ground Traffic Control Center, and the Fusion Power Complex."

"First and Fifth Defense Battalions will reinforce the Citadel." The word went out over the Capital Defense Force's channel. "The Seventh Defense Battalion will assist Capital Security."

"Enemy forces have engaged the First Battlegroup." The warning arrived to the Stormtroopers on the ground. "Secure Admiral Targaryen, and standby for evacuation once an orbital vector has been secured."
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Lights glimmered in the council chambers as Section 31 Operatives materialized via transporters, and then heavy phaser rifles were blazing away on full auto. Honor guard went down in sprays of boiling blood, steam rising from semi-cauterized wounds as their bodies thudded to the ground. Centuries-old tapestries burned, while millennia-old stonework and frescoes that dated back to the ancient Queendom of Orion shattered under the onslaught.

Then the firing stopped, and Matriarch Jayhnaa, First Councilor of Orion, gave an amused smile at the Section 31 Operatives. That, despite the fact that her body was already shredded by multiple phaser rounds.

"Amateurs." She laconically said, in Earth Standard English. The other matriarchs on the council similarly smiled with mocking amusement, before each and every one of their images flickered and vanished.

The council had never been here.

Worse, it seemed they'd been expected.

That much was clear when the bodies of the honor guard – each and every one of them having previously received multiple times the honor of siring children with one matriarch or another – also vanished, revealed to be holograms themselves. The tapestries also vanished, as did the rubble of the chamber's stonework and frescos, the walls now revealed to have had their exterior panels removed beforehand, sparing the precious artwork from destruction.

Operative Lynch snarled before activating his comm badge. "Justicar One to M…" he began, but never had the chance to finish.

Bombs placed in the ceiling's supports had a tendency to do that when they blew up, burying the Section 31 Operatives below alive.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Interesting…" I mused as I received the report from the sensor station. "…and independently-confirmed by the sensors of other ships."

"So this 'Section 31' is able to operate custom-refitted models of the Federation's standard ships-of-the-line." Torrhen mused as well. "How does that even work?"

"I don't know." I admitted, and not completely untrue at that. Oh I knew – from the memories of my previous life – that Section 31 was pretty much rogue in all but name, but to operate their own custom versions of Federation starships…how did they manage to get that to work?

"…ma'am, with all due respect," Torrhen said after a moment. "I'm getting a feeling Section 31's more than just the Federation counterpart to Imperial Intelligence."

"I am inclined to agree." I darkly agreed. "Once Operation Blue is over and won, we'll have to find the resources to look into this further. There's something rotten here, and I don't like it. I won't conquer this slice of this galaxy only to have it spoiled by one or another of the dirty secrets the Federation has secreted away."

"We've received word from the surface." Sara then said, handing a report to her superiors and turning their attention away from the unusual composition of the Section 31 Fleet they were facing. "Federation commandoes have overrun the outer court, and are now fighting their way into the Citadel."

"Status of Orion reinforcements?" I asked.

"Two mechanized battalions are headed for the Citadel even as we speak." Torrhen replied. "But the city is falling into chaos, so it's slow-going."

I tapped my chin in thought, and regarded the tactical display for a few moments. And then I smiled.

"Let's keep up the deception." I said. "Keep the fleet back, and focus on long-range strikes primarily aimed at achieving deterrence over destroying the enemy. At the same time, dispatch reinforcements to the surface…say, a company's worth of Stormtroopers. Detail a squadron of our lead fighters to escort them, and place additional fighter squadrons on standby to secure an orbital vector."

"Yes, ma'am." Sara said, saluting myself and Torrhen before hurrying off to relay my orders. As for myself, I hummed a tune from the Ode of Lucerys and Helaena, as I paced slowly around the tactical display, gloved fingers running over its edge.

"The enemy must continue to think I am on the surface." I finally said. "Let them focus on my double. And so drawing them in, into the teeth of our fleet, we'll tear them apart, just like how Caraxes once tore apart the harlot Alicent and her grandson, Jaehaerys the Nameless."

Torrhen frowned at that, trying to place the literary – or rather, semi-literary, semi-historical – reference. "The Dance of Dragons, I believe?" he asked.

"So it is, chief of staff." I confirmed.

The conversation stilled, the two staff officers silently regarding the tactical display and contentedly leaving this phase of the battle to the wing and squadron commanders. A couple of minutes later, and Sara was back.

"The 5th Company of the 537th Stormtrooper Regiment will be departing in the next two minutes." She said without preamble.

"Very good, then." I said, continuing to regard the tactical display. Indeed, it took only a minute and forty seconds before transports were headed down to the surface, V-Wing starfighters flying escort, while ARC-170 and TIE Fighters were swooping out to secure the orbital vector. "Now then, how will the enemy respond to this, I wonder?"

"If they come closer, trying to cut off the orbital vector," Torrhen remarked. "It won't be point-blank range, but we wouldn't be able to convincingly maintain only light artillery fire."

"Yes," I agreed. "If that happens, we'll have to launch a full bombardment."

"But they can't afford to let you – or who they think is you – be evacuated either." Torrhen said.

"Agreed," I said with a nod before narrowing my eyes. "But they have a slight advantage on the ground, at least until our reinforcements arrive. If they can get to my double before the Stormtrooper or Orion reinforcements arrive, then they can just teleport themselves out of there."
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Explosions shook a wing of the Citadel, as the Section 31 Operatives blew the turboshaft that served as the primary accessway to the wing. Then another explosion shook the wing, as a stairwell was also blown, and sending Stormtroopers screaming as they fell with the collapsing staircases.

This left only one stairwell as an accessway to the wing, bitterly contested by Section 31 and the Imperial Stormtrooper Corps between them. Red and orange pulses burned through the air, blaster carbines and phasers exchanging fire. Section 31 had the high ground, though, giving them a major advantage, aided by the narrow confines of the stairwell. Armored bodies covered the landing below, the Stormtroopers more often than not firing to cover their own to pull the bodies out of the way, to make room for feet to step on and try to fight their way up to the wing where the admiral had been cut off.

Normally, they'd just use thermal detonators to clear the entrenched Federation commandoes, but they didn't dare potentially collapse the stairwell. And so they had to try and take it by storm, a task that was proving easier said than done.

It wouldn't stop them, though.

They were Imperial Stormtroopers, after all.

They lived, fought, and died for the Empire.

Further inside the wing, Section 31 Operatives huddled behind a corner, prepared to try and storm a hallway where trapped Imperial officers were laying down a constant barrage of fire. Trading grimly-determined looks between them, the operatives activated personal energy shielding, before charging down the hallway, blaster rounds just striking harmlessly against their shields.

They fired as they ran, the Imperial officers forced to fall back behind cover, only to be gunned down at point-blank. A pair of lieutenants tried to resort to hand-to-hand, but were overpowered and restrained by the Section 31 Operatives. Others more broke down the door of the room the admiral was in, but the first man through the door had his head blown apart like a ripe melon by a single shot from the admiral's sidearm.

The next two operatives dashed into the room, flanking the admiral and keeping her from aiming at either of them. She managed to get off a single shot, but it missed, scoring the wall instead, and then she was falling with a sharp cry of pain, as an operative clubbed the back of her head. Then she was being gagged and restrained, before a beacon pinned to her chest.

"We have the target." An operative said while tapping his comm badge. "Beam us up."

There was a glimmer of light, a slight sense of disorientation, and the room in the Citadel was replaced with the transporter bay of one of the Section 31 ships in space. "Welcome b…" one of the transport operators began, only to trail off as an alert went off on his console. "Wait something isn't…"

A twelve-kiloton device implanted into the double's body chose that moment to detonate, and blowing the ship apart from the inside out.

 

[iceknight90]

Brilliant. They outsmarted Section 31 and outplayed them by playing even dirtier!

Star Trek's most ruthless schemers were outdone by a faction with even more ruthless schemes!

The youth and enthusiasm of Section 31 can't match the old age and treachery of the Star Wars universe.