The flight went at a furious pace, and all that time we were tense. At last, only the final leg of the journey remained. Before making the jump, my ships and those of the Master Gallia formed up into battle formations. Ours resembled a kind of triangle: Bannager at the tip, Resolute on the left, and Akagi and Taidirium on the right. Corvettes and frigates were positioned within the formation. It was a sort of "Teutonic pig" formation, where heavily armed knights formed the striking fist, surrounding the less protected knechts.
According to the information Adi Gallia had provided, her squadron also included four Persuasive ships. All in all, our combined forces made for a formidable strike group. The real question was what forces the enemy possessed—and how the battle would unfold for the first detachment.
And since I had a bad feeling about it, I took my place on Akagi's bridge well before we emerged from hyperspace. In addition to Ahsoka, a female intelligence agent also arrived on the bridge, modestly settling into a corner.
The moment we dropped out of hyperspace, reports began pouring in.
"Enemy fleet detected! More than fifty ships! Contact in five minutes! Our ships are already engaged!"
"What a mess!" O'Connor whistled—and there was no more accurate way to describe it.
Our ships and the Separatist fleet were tangled together in a chaotic knot, and the situation looked grim. The ships—ours and the Separatists'—were tangled together in a heap, and things looked grim. The enemy had more forces, far more than number of the advance force, and they were pressing hard. Several ships already drifted lifelessly in space.
"Confirmed destruction of the flagship. Sir, it appears the enemy was waiting directly at the exit point!" Sumeragi reported.
"Who would've thought they were so close?!" someone exclaimed.
"Prepare yourselves! Form an S-5 formation! All units, full combat readiness!" I ordered, moving toward the tactical table.
Activating the display, I focused on the unfolding battle.
"Sir, is this wise…?" Captain Williams came over the line.
"We don't have time to play games! Attack!"
"Sir, the enemy has a ship of unknown class! Displaying on screen!"
It took me no effort to recognize the contours of its hull. Hutt… That's the Providence. A damned carrier-destroyer!
"Contact Supreme General Jedi Adi Gallia. Transmit the coordinates of our maneuver! Tell the Acclamators to get the fighters ready!"
"Sir, the enemy is jamming our signal! But… I'll try!" Mirro shouted.
***
The alarm siren wailed through Bannager's hangar.
"Move! Run, run, run!"
"Pilots, line up!"
Soma Paris, clad in her flight suit, surveyed the assembled pilots. Although all the machines belonged to the Denon defense forces, their crews were anything but seasoned. They had been pulled together from scattered units, mixed with a large number of flight academy graduates—and even outright volunteers.
What were they thinking in the government? So many recruits… How are we supposed to fight if our opponents turn out to be organic pilots?
"As I've told you many times before, attack the enemy in groups! Don't fly alone! Now get to your machines!"
***
The operators reported the situation with cold detachment.
"Enemy strength estimated at forty to fifty capital ships. Eight Lucrehulks and five Recusants confirmed! Fighter and bomber count exceeds twenty thousand!"
We'll have to—
Slipping into meditation, I stretched my hands over the tactical table, trying to grasp the battle as a whole—its essence, its flow, the consequences of every possible move. It still demanded tremendous effort, but… it was worth it.
"Course two-seven, vertical angle four degrees! Open fire!"
"General, we have a connection with the Supreme General!"
"Vikt, we're attacking—it's tough going. We need.... to rescue them as soon as possible! What do you propose?"
"Attacking in waves right now is pointless! We need a single decisive strike! Combine our forces, pull back, regroup, then hit again—it's our only chance! We'll strike the left flank and punch through, while you attack across the entire front! That should give us an opening to pull our ships out of their kill zone."
Gallia was no naïve child, and she quickly grasped what I was trying to pull off.
"It might work. Go ahead, Vikt! Bold maneuver, I won't deny it!"
***
It was utterly reckless—but the Master committed to the attack.
The ships surged forward in a sharp maneuver, wedging themselves into the enemy formation, followed closely by Magister Gallia's forces. The Master… he closed his eyes, issuing commands in a calm, steady voice.
"Release the Torrents and ARCs! Concentrate fire on the Recusant, coordinates 7-H5! Attention, enemy fighters in sector seven—interceptors, stay sharp! Paris, Shirainyu, launch your wings!"
Watching the dogfight unfold, the Togruta was barely able to contain herself. She wanted to be there, in the thick of it, helping the others. Finally, unable to endure it any longer, Ahsoka tugged at her Master's sleeve.
"Master, can I…?"
"No."
She sniffed indignantly—but then her Master's voice echoed inside her mind.
Ahsoka, I need you. Now.
What should I do?
Trust me.
The Togruta exhaled and relaxed, opening her mind.
In the blink of an eye, she found herself in the cockpit of a fighter…
***
Windu twisted violently, trying to shake the CIS fighter from his tail, but every attempt failed—the gray-green craft stayed glued to him. Attacking the silver-blue R-38 no longer seemed like such a brilliant idea. It was heavily guarded, and Barvel lost his wingman in the assault; the squadron following him was forced to break away.
Looks like that's it.
Suddenly, his mind cleared, and his hands moved without his will. Executing a breathtaking maneuver, his Z-95 snapped in behind the Separatist fighter. A short, precise burst—and the enemy's deflector shield failed. The R-38 vanished in a blossom of fire.
Windu didn't understand what had just happened. But he smiled anyway.
Now I'll give them something to remember!