"White-One on position. White-Two on position. White-Three is flying out of the hangar..."
"Defense systems check complete..."
"Red Leader to Red Two. Check the asteroid belt..."
"Commander of the Valkeris garrison reporting, squads distributed to battle stations, no unauthorized absences..."
Reports poured in one after another, throwing the CIC into real chaos, but accustomed to working in such an emergency, the Rendili security personnel promptly managed their work, easily navigating and maneuvering through hundreds of messages arriving every minute.
Hiding her cold palms in the sleeves of her Jedi robe, Fay stepped back into the shadows so as not to embarrass or unnerve the men gathered on the bridge with her presence.
Proud, brave, and bold—they were the personification of the Republic's military forces, and it couldn't be said that the elf felt delight at being in the same room with them.
Insanely stubborn officers were skeptical of her warnings and advice, relying entirely on their own strength, and it was hard to blame them here. Biting the inside of her cheek, the Jedi once again scanned those gathered with her gaze.
Luren Korta was a no longer young senator who had received an enviable position and worked more for the benefit of his own world and pocket. Having perfumed himself with a rather vile, though expensive, scent, he constantly curled his lips when his gaze slid to the refined figure of the elf in the Jedi robe. But Fay, with some kind of delight and surprise, admitted that his dismissive look and insolent smile did credit to many of Korta's colleagues, for most of them did not dare to look at the Jedi that way.
Surrounded by Judicial officers who had arrived with their patron and boss, he was preparing another pompous speech that was to be delivered in the next hour. Quietly moving his lips, this puffed-up turkey was repeating his stupid words for the twelfth time, in which there was no more meaning than in Bantha droppings.
Next was Ranulf Tarkin, a man from the planet Eriadu, hungry for glory, military exploits, and the historical chronicles of his ancestors. Accustomed to wealth and enthusiastic whispers in his direction, he did not for a moment think about how his actions looked from the outside.
Raised in one of the strongest families of his sector, Ranulf grew into a spoiled, albeit extremely charismatic, man. With his speeches and ideas, he captured minds, gaining many supporters in his camp...
"What a pity that such a silver tongue was given to such a stupid sentient."
Tarkin dreamed of putting his name in history; the elf wouldn't be surprised if at night he dreamed of how Ranulf Tarkin, military genius and true master of his craft, was mentioned in lessons at military academies.
The last of such significant sentients on the bridge was the head of Rendili security, Director Baisard Qualo. A native of Rendili, this proud man did not believe that there was any force in the galaxy that his planet and the corporation merged with it could not withstand.
A veteran of many corporate wars, working in his position for over fifteen years and not doubting future success, he perceived Fay's advice most sharply, almost grinding his teeth. Bristling his small, neat mustache, the thin Baisard was the embodiment of intolerance toward other races besides human variants, and moreover, a staunch misogynist, for being married to his work, he never got to know true love...
Individually, these qualities might not have caused problems for Fay, but all together... they turned Baisard Qualo into a disgusting person, even communicating with whom was beyond her strength, despite all the masks and years of diplomacy experience.
She had not met such stubborn, proud, and frankly speaking, stupid people in a very long time.
Suppressing another sigh of irritation when, at the request of subordinates to "Increase the number of guards on the bridge and server room," Qualo responded with an aggressive refusal, shooting a malicious look in her direction... the Jedi mentally began to prepare for trouble.
Informing the protocol droid assigned to her that she wanted to retire to the restroom, Fay left the CIC, intending to just walk through the corridors of the station, admiring the beauty of space through the panoramic windows.
Her nerves were stretched to the limit, the wait for the attack was exhausting, and the stubbornness of some individuals was irritating... but the most unpleasant thing was the silence of Altman, who should have arrived a couple of hours ago.
Having sent him a message, Fay expected that the adrenaline-fueled Helldiver would definitely be interested. She even contacted the Order, warning of the skirmish, thereby unobtrusively telling Sam that the masters had approved her venture...
Freezing near a particularly notable window, behind which the Katana fleet could be seen, the elf tilted her chin, swallowing viscous saliva and thinking through a new plan of action. Even if she was left without trump cards in today's skirmish, the forces gathered here should be enough to neutralize Magnus and his accomplices, and at the same time get rid of thousands of pirates rushing into the system at full speed.
"We are ready and will definitely cope. Zeta doesn't have that many forces to fight us... In his madness, he has lost the last bits of cold calculation... No. One should not underestimate the Arkanian mutant. Once before, it almost turned into a disaster."
Here, at the edge of her consciousness, Fay caught familiar sparks of life force, approaching her position with a slow step. Suppressing a warm smile, she did not take her eyes off the viewport, continuing to admire space and the fleet when Sam stood next to her, clasping his hands behind his back.
"Thank you..."
"Too early to thank," Sam interrupted her in a cheerful tone, holding out his hand to her, showing data from the PDA, "you still have to pay for your past jokes."
"Ha-ha, fine." Feeling relief in her chest, the elf was on a wave of euphoria, so Sam's silly request did not seem burdensome to her. "The main thing is that you are here, and the rest is not important."
"Eh... I wish I had your confidence." At her unspoken question, Sam pointedly grimaced. "Even all the forces of the Helldivers won't be enough to oppose the pirates, the Katana fleet, and the spectators gathered here."
"I hope it won't come to that..."
Before Fay could finish, the alarm signal swept through the station. Crimson lamps and the long moans of the alarm hit the senses of perception.
The multiple thud of feet was heard on all decks, and the first cries of squad commanders of the security service and Judicial soldiers rang out behind the bulkheads.
Ready for battle, the space station filled with life, shedding the agonizing numbness in which it had hung for the last couple of days.
The Katana fleet, meanwhile, began a slow turn toward the point of space disturbance, most likely intending to stand nose to nose against the pirates, but...
A flash of explosion engulfed the Katana flagship, blowing it into small fragments and draining the shields of the ships surrounding the flagship. For a few moments, the ships connected to the flagship by means of the rare and new Slave Circuit system flew by inertia, then froze without movement, taking no action.
****
Ten minutes earlier.
Cybernetic fingers tapped out a simple rhythm that the cyborg had heard the day before. A couple of Techs from the pirate tub on which they were currently being transported through Hyperspace were singing it in a drunken stupor.
A silly song, but the tune was extremely catchy, which The Spider had managed to regret a dozen times, even seriously thinking about finding the drunken pair and cutting them open from groin to throat...
But calculation, the cold mind of a Bith, and the metal body won over silly emotions.
Removing his hand from the table and rising fully to his feet, The Spider scanned the bridge with a mocking gaze. The deck had been specially expanded so that Zeta Magnus could move about without any hindrance.
The giant was briskly barking out orders, radiating anticipation in all directions and infecting those around him. It was yet another amusing trait of the Arkanian mutant that caused a sense of dissonance in anyone even slightly acquainted with him.
"If only this leadership charisma manifested more often, instead of his strange obsessions and madness."
Tsking to himself, the cyborg stood beside his partner, peering through the ship's cameras into the hyperspace tunnel. Stars flickered past, a stream of bright blue energy surrounding them on all sides, marred only by the hundreds of other pirate tubs spoiling the beautiful view and preventing him from enjoying it to the fullest.
Surveying once more the "fleet" that Magnus and he had managed to assemble in such a short time, The Spider was glad his face was currently devoid of any emotion; otherwise, restraining himself would have been beyond his strength.
Thousand-year-old wrecks, converted freighters, deserters on small ships... A complete collection of garbage rather than a fleet, but they had no other choice.
"Whatever... Soon we will have a real fleet, and with the clones Magnus is churning out, we'll be able to assemble a proper army, not this rabble."
"Five minutes until exit from hyperspace." A deep male voice notified them of their imminent arrival. Without looking away from the screens, the pirate began establishing contact with their agents in the system, then brought a stable channel onto the monitors. There was no need to say anything more; all orders had been given long ago... All that remained was to turn the plan into reality. "Connection established, no glitches..."
The battered ship computer hummed under the strain but performed its task. As a lover of technology and a brilliant engineer, it was physically painful for The Spider to look at such an abomination, but he remained steadfastly silent, not intending to start a conflict over nothing, especially in a combat situation.
"Soon... very soon..." Zeta muttered under his breath, frightening the pirates around him. His yellow eyes glowed within the slits of his helmet, and the giant was practically shaking with anticipation. "The Republic scum will get what's coming to them!"
"The main objective is to capture the fleet, then you can do whatever you wish."
Turning sharply to face the cyborg, Magnus fought his madness for a few seconds, casting a tense atmosphere over the bridge and making the pirates exchange wary glances.
But they had nothing to fear. No matter how far the Arkanian mutant was willing to go, even his twisted and insane mind understood that with a fleet of two hundred dreadnoughts, they could achieve far more than without it.
"True... You are right." Taking hold of himself and exhaling calmly through his nose, the giant sat in his monstrous chair, gripping the shaft of his halberd tightly, which clearly calmed him even further. After a couple of minutes, when only moments remained before the exit from hyperspace, Magnus asked him a question. "Is the device ready? Will it definitely work..."
"Do not dare insult me with such questions." Hissing in his native tongue, the former Bith jerked the hem of his cloak, covering his cybernetic body, which attracted too much attention. "Just as I do not doubt your skills, you... be so kind as to not ask stupid questions."
"Ha-ha, excellent, excellent. Forgive me, my dear friend, it is just that excitement and anticipation cloud my mind..."
"I understand." Nodding in agreement, though not forgetting the latest insult, The Spider approached the communications operator and began connecting directly to the computer. An instantaneous upload followed, and his fingers began dancing across the keyboard—entering numerous passwords and activating the analogue of the Slave Circuit. The final minutes of work coincided with a warning from the ship's VI. "Excellent. Second for second. Begin."
Pressing the button, the cyborg imagined how, at this very moment, thousands of signals containing the virus strings of his bone-crunching code were ensnaring the Katana Fleet, while the lead ship itself was being blown apart along with its poisoned crew.
The first results began appearing on the screen. One, two, four, eight, sixteen...
The ships of the Katana Fleet were falling under their control, beginning to obey the new flagship that held the Slave Circuit.
"Foolish boy... You always relied too much on the Force and despised technology."
Under his steel mask, the cyborg was clearly smiling—at least he wanted to believe his face was still capable of such a thing.
The Bainites had wanted to outplay them, hoping to lead the fleet into deep space, lose it among the stars, or as a last resort, destroy it using Magnus's developments and poisoning the crew of the lead ship.
But that was not to be.
"One hundred and ninety-nine ships connected to our network. No problems. No complaints. The dreadnoughts are fully under our control..."
The pirate technician reported briskly, gazing with delight as he realized the full scale of what had happened.
"Dispose of the ship crews. Full purge."
Cruel, ruthless, and terrifying even to hardened bastards like the pirate Chieftain's crew.
"All of them?" The operator's raspy voice betrayed his agitation and fear. Sitting at the computer, he looked incredulously at everyone gathered, his gaze lingering on Magnus and his own Captain.
"All of them." Sweating profusely, not daring to object, Baron Hollo only gave a restrained nod, clearly severing the last threads that might have helped him avoid association with this pair of psychopaths. "Go on..."
Trying not to look at the control panel, the operator tapped a few buttons, the thought hammering in his head that he had just personally snuffed out the lives of half a million people.
"Excellent. Order all ships—open fire on the Republic forces, re-form..." A series of orders rolled across the bridge as frightened operators transmitted the commands to the Katana Fleet. The Spider himself placed a hand on the shoulder of the pale man who had cleared the ships of outsiders with the press of a button. "You did well..."
"Exiting hyperspace!" The navigator interrupted the cyborg's restrained praise, though the latter didn't even pay attention; the triumph unfolding around them was far more important. "Gods..."
The scene presented to them was worthy of epics from ancient times. A ghastly, breathtaking, and terrifyingly beautiful sight where hundreds of ships clashed in mortal combat, tearing space apart with thousands of laser bolts.
Flashes of explosions, flickering shield membranes, the roar of the general comms channel filled with the strained screams of pilots and station defenders.
Before the pirates' eyes, a couple of Consular-class cruisers disintegrated in fiery bursts, draining the shields of their neighbors, who a moment later were swept away by the hurricane fire of the Katana Fleet.
Two hundred Dreadnoughts marched steadily forward, shielding one another, crushing with undeniable power, even if not fully utilized.
Opposing them, three groups of forces were forming, barely helping each other withstand the inevitable steamroller.
Hundreds, thousands of fighters had left their hangars and were now trying to punch through the dense fire of the Dreadnoughts, only to burn in the fire of turbolasers, decorating the void of space like comets.
"All the boys have exited hyperspace. What are the orders?"
The monitor readings were off the charts, and the incoming signals were overwhelming the capacity of the old machines on the pirate vessel. The machines beeped and hummed, but the old cyborg didn't even notice. Reveling in the emotions radiating from the battlefield, he drank them in greedily, nourishing his broken body.
"Boss?"
"Destroy."
"Huh?"
"Kill them all!" Giving the order with a sharp shout, The Spider spun on his heels, walking at a brisk pace toward the hangar. An aura of the Force spread around him, crushing or warping metal and bulkheads, forcing everyone to run out of his way.
***
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