The alarms were going off constantly while we hurried back to our docking station, which, of course, was now in complete lockdown. I sent HK to try to hack into the systems, so we can leave if needed, as I wasn't keen on getting locked into a potentially wasted space station... If nothing else, we would blast ourselves out of here, but I would only do it as a last resort. I was halfway up the ramp when the station's automated voice cut in over the comms, no longer just the warning signs, showing that there was indeed an attack:
"All crew to battle stations! This is not a drill. Repeat: this is not a drill."
When it ended, the docking bay lights shifted to an angry red, cutting all auxiliary powers, probably redirected to the weapons and shields. I could hear that somewhere deeper in the station, emergency bulkheads slammed shut with a metallic thud... Luckily, we got back in time; otherwise, we would have been stuck somewhere deeper inside the station.
I slid into the pilot's chair and powered up our main displays, wanting to at least see through our scanners what was going on. Vila dropped into the co-pilot seat, leaning forward until her elbows rested on the console, her lekku twitching restlessly, both curious and worried about what was going on.
"HK?" I called in the comms while he was still outside, trying to get access to the hangar's closed doors.
[Statement: I am in. I will have an override soon.]
"If you're done, hurry back up here. If the station is in danger, we are going out to help!"
[Statement: I advise staying out of it.]
"Weren't you the one who wanted to fight already?" Vila chuckled, teasing him, but there was no answer.
"Let's see what is going on, first..." I muttered, bringing up the first readings that were a bit fuzzy through the bulk and shields of the station.
From our forward sensors, we could still perceive that the orbital station's defensive perimeter stretched across the planet's curve, facing towards deep space, right where we were at the moment, and right at the incoming enemy.
[Statement: I have the feed from the station's cameras. Redirecting them now.]
"Thanks!" I smiled, bringing those up too.
Watching the feed, Christophsis' crystalline surface appeared first, before getting out of focus and showing us the nearby Golan platforms coming into view, their heavily armored bulk filled with turbolasers, missile banks, and point-defense cannons. After switching three times, one feed finally looked outwards, towards the vector from which the attackers came.
"If they want to get through this, they need a fleet..." Vila muttered, and I agreed, completely. Yet... there wasn't any coming in.
What was clear from our internal sensors was that there were only seven ships that dropped from hyperspace in sequence, their arrival clearly pre-planned. Yes, they were big, ugly ones, but not one that could make a dent in these types of defenses... Plus, as their silhouettes came into full view, they were the kind of ships that would make any mechanic frown and charge extra to even look at them. Most looked like heavy freighters that had been hacked apart and bolted back together with mismatched hull plating and scavenged weapon mounts. They weren't at all standard warships... Weird. Checking our readings, their engines burned unevenly, a few flickering like they were being pushed to their limits, most likely running too hot, venting bursts of plasma every time the throttle surged.
"Hmm..." Vila tilted her head, watching closely, "Those… look like pirate tubs."
"Yeah," I agreed, "But they're moving like they know exactly where to go and... With these readings, they don't want to leave."
"What do you mean?" She asked, leaning over to my side, wanting to see if my monitors showed anything different.
"Their engines." I pointed at it, "They won't make far with ships like these."
More than that... their tactics felt... Stupid. There were no broad arcs or careful maneuvering; they just went full burst, straight-line acceleration toward the nearest defensive platforms. I have searched my memory for any similar maneuvers that there are in either old Imperial records or within Remnant archives... Or anything... but... no. This is more than amateurish. Are they aiming for head-on collisions? That was my idea, but... why go on a suicide mission?
Whatever their plan was, the Golans didn't hesitate.
The closest station to them lit up first, its heavy turbolasers flashing in pairs of bright green. Each shot was concentrated on the ship heading towards it, hitting its shields, making the ship lit up in a blue hue, scattering the first few shots. But, even then, I was sure those shields wouldn't hold for long. Then, the second Golan joined in almost immediately, its own salvo flying toward the same target.
"It won't even reach it," I muttered, and then came the explosion.
The first pirate-like hulk in the lead, a squat, rust-red ship with a patched-in dorsal battery, took the brunt of the Golans' continuous salvo. A turbolaser strike blew through its forward shields like they weren't even there... Well, they weren't by then. The impact left a burning, molten hole straight through the bow. The explosion was bright enough to paint the station's armored hull in orange light for a heartbeat before the ship began to break apart, venting debris and spinning out of formation.
Yet, even then, the others didn't even flinch, just kept going at full speed, heading forward.
By then, missiles joined the barrage, flying out from the recessed launch bays on the Golans. The warheads weren't the fast, fighter-type kind, as they were designed against capital ships. They were heavy, slow, crawling toward their targets... Well, they looked sluggish, but they weren't, really. Without the proper point-defense mechanisms or fighter support, good luck hitting them. Vila leaned forward as one of them struck home, detonating against a converted bulk hauler's port engine. The entire nacelle tore away, spiraling into space as the ship lurched, trailing sparks and coolant, deviating from its course after losing power.
"They're not dodging," she murmured.
"They're not even trying," I agreed.
No... they weren't. No evasive rolls or any kind of defensive fire beyond a few token turret bursts from the slower ships, trying to hit either the stations or the missiles. Mostly, they just plowed forward like they were on rails, right into the storm green turbolasers.
The second wave of turbolaser fire hit them like a hammer. By then, the closest Golans had caught them in a kill-box formation, and the attackers had walked right into it. They had to see it, yet they did nothing to avoid it. This was more than stupid... So there had to be something going on. I watched, furrowing my brows as every platform sprayed laser fire into the incoming line of ships, and one by one, the poor bastards began to explode.
One of the remaining freighter-sized vessels with mismatched starboard plating took a direct missile strike at its mid-section. The detonation gutted it in a blinding flare, scattering twisted hull fragments in every direction, spinning away from the planet. Then, another ship, an angular, dark-painted freighter with extra armor welded to its prow, managed to get within half the distance, finally being able to fire off some shots, hitting one of the Golans before its reactor went critical under sustained fire. Next, just behind it, the following ships crashed into the debris, no longer shielded, just so it could bloom into a fireball so bright I had to squint against the video feed's glare.
It was over in less than a minute.
The last two attackers made it to within a few kilometers of the outermost Golan before they too were torn apart, one by missile fire, the other by a sustained beam barrage that simply cut through its hull like it was made out of wet paper. Pieces of armor, engine housings, and shattered weapon mounts drifted outward, tumbling slowly against the dark backdrop of space...
"Wel..." Vila exhaled slowly. "That was… one-sided. If they are afraid of pirates... I think they need a knock on the back of the head. This place is more defended than most planets!"
I didn't answer immediately. My senses had been reaching out, trying to get a feel of the incoming ships, brushing against the battlefield. I was trying to get a meaning, a purpose, or anything... something of those aboard those ships before their death... Normally, even in a fight that ends this quick, I was sure I could feel the flash of terror from dying crews, the hot panic of people realizing their ship was coming apart around them.
But... here… Nothing. Not even a peep or a surprise, or maniac determination... Just... Cold... The emptiness of space.
"No one was aboard," I said quietly, reopening my eyes.
"Huh?" Vila blinked hers, turning toward me. "Empty? The ships? Are you sure?"
"Yeah. Empty," I confirmed. "There was no crew, no life signs at all. They weren't piloted by people... Probably either droid-controlled or remotely activated."
[Flat Statement: That would explain the suicidal approach.] HK's voice carried no surprise, only his own analysis as he entered the cockpit. [Observation: The hull profiles and engine signatures match known pirate configurations. However…] He tilted his head slightly. [Conclusion: Every single one of those drones was a captured vessel.]
"Captured?" Vila echoed. "Do you have any proof?"
[Affirmative Statement: Yes. Ships of those types and tonnage are standard in shipping corporations. Bored Explanation: Bluebird. Stolen: 4 years ago. Octavia's Blessing. Stolen: 2 years ago. Statement: I am not willing to continue naming the matching drive signatures. Conclusion: Multiple pirate groups capture them and use them as their own, either as bait for an ambush or refitted as moving battle platforms. Clarification: The paint patterns, structural scars, and weapon placements match records for specific pirate factions in this case. Many of which no longer exist... Like the Red Skulls.]
"Wait..." I turned in my seat to face him, "Are you telling us that they sent them in to die? No wait." I snapped my fingers, "They were destroyed, so... someone kept some of the pirates' ships to... send in and make the people here think it was a pirate attack?"
[Statement: A possibility. Speculation: Probably to measure response time, firing solutions, and ammunition expenditure of Christophsis' defensive network.]
"Makes sense..." Vila looked back at the drifting debris fields, pursing her lips. "A test, they lose nothing and gain everything for later."
"Yeah..." I nodded slowly, "If HK is right, they just wanted to see what the Golans could do, how fast they'd shoot, how much they'd throw at them, what they could take down before anything got through. And to see what tactics they would use in an actual attack."
[Statement: I am correct. I would do exactly this if I were tasked to take the planet.] HK leaned forward slightly. [Dry Addendum: I believe the meabag phrase is… 'probing the defenses.']
Whoever had done this hadn't cared about losing the ships, which made sense... In other words, the actual attack was still coming.
"Wait," I flinched, looking at HK. "Previously, you said you noticed that there is already a backdoor in the systems."
[Statement: Affirmative. It is hidden in the subroutines of the emergency release codes. Through it, I managed to access this bay's doors too.]
"So they could do the same, no?" Vila offered, making me nod.
"If HK can, whoever planted it could too. The ones designing this attack had already planted spies on the station. Maybe not people who are still here, not constant residents... Maybe they were simply passing by when they first planted it. Maybe they were also testing if their backdoor is still open. HK, was there anything strange in the systems while you were in it?"
[Statement: Negative. There was no reaction or incoming signal.]
"This does not sound like pirates," Vila concluded, and I agreed with her.
"No, it isn't. Well... Now that the dust has settled!" I turned around, thinking, "Maybe we should take another trip around the station."
"A new plan?" Vila asked, chuckling.
"I want to find out if we indeed have a spy or not..."