Sullust System
Hyperspace exploded, the long winding tunnel of extradimensional space shattering into a firework shower of light that seemed to resolve into the pinpricks of stars.
Soto knew otherwise, of course: while no scientist, he knew enough of the basics of hyperlight physics to obliterate any poetry that the notion offered; but it was a nice metaphor.
He watched in silence through the viewports of his Arquitens-class Cruiser as realspace took shape; he waited long enough to see the burning suns of Kuati ion exhausts before his eyes fell to the holodisplay mounted before him. Verdant pinpricks peppered their way into life, representations of various sizings sparking into being as a sizeable chunk of Task Force 42 burst into existance, surrounding the hulking forms of the Imperial Star Destroyers on several fronts. A tug of a smile threatened to form on his face, but he kept it at bay as he imagined the reactions of the Imperial officers aboard those vessels.
"All engines, full reverse," he instructed, knowing that similar instructions were being provided aboard all of the vessels of his battle group as the starships - some boasting far more mass than his relatively light flagship. He felt a slight tug as the inertial compensators failed to fully dampen the force of the reverse thrust, but eons of practice kept him firmly seated in his chair without so much as a twitch.
He watched on the holodisplay as the Horizon - an old Vicstar and the most massive of his group - overshot the Destiny as it's engines failed to slow the attached vessel quite as swiftly as the contemporary Arquitens had done. Some criticised the Fleet Captain for the composition of his Battle Group, all but one of his ships Republic relics from the Clone Wars, save for the mandatory upgrades and modifications they'd recieved under the care of their various subsequent Imperial, Alliance, and Corporate Sector owners; but then those same commentators criticised him for carrying his flag aboard the Destiny rather than aboard his Star Destroyer. Terius had never paid much attention to the opinions of such people, nor did he have much respect for their method of command: he led from the front, never asking anyone to shoulder any more risk than he was willing to take on himself.
He watched in silence as his ships quickly adopted their instructed positions in formation. Six trusted commanders and his own crew awaited on one single instruction from their Fleet Captain. He gave it, without hesitation. "Give the order," he instructed, addressing the communications officer who would relay his instructions to the rest of the 422nd Battle Group. "Fire at will."
A mere instant after the echoed command tumbled from the Lieutenant's lips and into the comms console, azure and crimson fury was unleashed by the ships under his command. The batteries of each ship unleashed angry bolts of turbolaser fire towards the unsuspecting shields on the hindquarters of all three Star Destroyers, the shields that covered their giant, burning engines shimmering with each impact. Waves of ion cannon fire were added by those vessels capable; a moment later the Horizon, along with the DP20 Gunships Sebrus and Stromos, let fly with their first volley of missiles. Soto watched as the indicators for the shield arcs bearing the brunt of the assault changed on his holodisplay, descending from a verdant green towards a sickening more yellow shade.
"Relay to our fighters -" Soto called, addressing the second communications officer, responsible for passing members to the rocket jocks ordered to follow his instructions. Ordinarily the Ensign would have more work coordinating the actions of multiple squadrons with varied mission roles, but for now his job was much easier: every B-Wing and Y-Wing in the entire Task Force was floating in space awaiting his instructions; the A-Wings had joined their cousins from General Dan's force to provide their primary air defense against the TIE Fighters of the Imperial Task Force, while his X-Wings had formed up on the Novgorod under orders to blow the crap out of anything they could lock their guns onto.
The Destiny and her bombers had much the same orders. "- attack formation. Form up on us, and try to keep up."
"Take us in," he added, with a nod towards the helmsman.
A surge of light sprung up in the Destiny's main drives and she surged forward, the diminutive split dagger of her hull diving towards the larger Kuati craft. B-Wings tumbled in pursuit, their unorthadox crucifix design oddly unbalanced and yet strangely graceful at the same time. The stocky Y-Wings from Soto's own forces moved with far less aerobatic style, remaining in stiff formation, the squadron forming a chevron on the Destiny's flanks.
"Any and all targets of opportunity," he instructed to his weapons officer, as the Destiny swooped down on the Star Destroyer that the holodisplay called Indomitable. "The sooner we pop these shields and start taking out those gun turrets, the sooner they'll stop shooting back at us."
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