Desperate Assault (The attack on Bestine)

Reshmar walked into the command Deck of the massive Command Cruiser Independence for the first time. The ship was huge in comparison to the other Calamari Cruisers laid out in the repair yard. The Command Deck rose above the main Hull on an Island type Fin located rear of the Hanger sections. From here the View of the hull stretching out two and a half kilometers forward was mind boggling. He had seen Home one at Endor but never had he been aboard before its loss to the Imperial Navy at Endor. Ackbar had spoken to him on several occasions of the size and ruggedness of the massive Command Cruisers but never had Reshmar imagined commanding the last of the Command Ships.

Last minute repairs were finished and all that was left was the final supplies and crew to come aboard. With the Loss of the Casima most of Reshmar’s personnel staff and Command Retinue including his old friend Captain Jortes. Breaking in a new captain and command crew was not a chore Reshmar looked forward to. Especially with the mission handed him by the Supreme Commander.

As he watched Cargo Shuttles come and go from the starboard main hanger he thought about his friend and the men he lost in the final hours of the journey back from Endor. All good men deserving heroes welcome for the courage and pride they had shown in their final fight against imperial forces. A welcome few received and many deserved. Reshmar was debriefed and given orders upon his return. He had requested a short leave to visit with Jortes family as with his own and to send his bereavement letters to the families of his lost Crew. This would not happen. The Rebellion was toppling in on itself. Calamari was the last defendable outpost of the rebellion and Reshmar knew it was only a matter of time before the Imperials moved to assault Calamari and the last surviving members of the Rebellion. This could not happen.

“Admiral Reshmar, It is an honor to meet you sir.”

Reshmar was free from his thoughts by a voice from behind him. He turned to look upon his new Captain. Reshmar had meet Captain Gresta once before at a Calamari Defense Meeting just after Calamari joined the Rebellion. He had a reputation as a genius tactician and over all good command which specialized in Fighter and support craft tactics. This was why he was chosen from the long list of officers who applied for command of the Independence. He was not a favorite of many of the Command staff but Reshmar needed someone with his expetessse in small craft ops.

“Ah… Captain Gresta, It is good to see you again. I have been awaiting your arrival. I trust your trip here was comfortable.”

Reshmar Smiled and walked to great the new Captain of the Independence. He was three of four centimeters taller them Reshmar and his skin was a light shade with dark red marking. Most people thought all calamari looked the same but to a calamari many differences can be seen in ultra spectrums of light most races of the galaxy can not see.

“Yes Admiral, it was short and I had very little time to prepare myself after receiving the news of my promotion. I trust you will fill me in as we go.”

Reshmar motioned Gresta to the holo display aft of the command chair. He depressed a few buttons and a holo image appeared and spun in mid air.

“Captain this is Bestine. A small system owned Shipyard orbits the forth planet of this system. There are also Planetary shipyards in the southernmost ocean much like our own yards on Calamari. The Imperials have a lose control of the system thanks to a corrupt government and a governor with close imperial ties. Most of the populations doesn’t even know they have been subjugated at all. Information and travel to and from the planet are closely monitored. Our mission is to assault the Shipyards and retrieve much needed supplies and parts to repair the fleet and build new starships. “

Gresta listened attentively and watched as Reshmar ran through the battle plan. Three gunships of Patriot Squadron will jump in and set off the system alert system. Once engaged they will lure the fighters out past the low orbit and the heavy planetary defenses. Then from the far side of Bestine IV the three gunships of Hunter Squadron will jump in and attack the Golan Station while dodging the planetary defense fire. As the two gunship squadrons split the fleet up the Independence will jump in and engage the Defense Fleet. It was a well devised plan. The Gunships were fast enough to dodge the planetary Turbolaser and Ion cannon fire and packed enough punch to engage the stations in a hit and run battle. The second gunship squadron would offer fighter defense and act as bait. While the Independence and her compliment of fighters dealt with the main threat.

“Admiral, what is the plan for assaulting the yards themselves. We have no assault craft loaded out in the fight hangers and I did not see any in the main hanger.”

Reshmar pressed a button and the orbital shipyard zoomed into view.

“An Assault Force made up of our a few Special Operations Agents supported by our naval regiment will use personnel vessels and a few Freighters which we will meet inbound. They will hit the yards supported by our fighter group. Theirs is the most important mission. They have to secure the yards and begin loading equipment while we are securing the airspace of the planet. We have a very small window here captain. Forces from the Imperial Fleet will be close by and will respond swiftly once they have been alerted. We will be going out hot and fast.”

Gresta looked over the mission files one more time then turned the holo projector off. The plan seems feasible but too many variables were present. How much time they had to retrieve equipment, what strength the response force would be. And dealing with Special operations was a head ache in itself. Many of the ranks of Spec Ops were show offs and hot head who rushed into battle out of fun rather then to achieve a mission. The battle would be hard fought and many would not return but this would be a story he could tell his children

“One more thing admiral, when will the remaining command staff be aboard? I need to meet with many of my new section commanders to organize some sort of command schedule and layout my section readiness plan.”

Reshmar smiled once again and knew the eagerness Gresta was feeling. He remembered his first Ship command and the excitement which went with being in control of so many people. He also remembered the pain which went with the lose of these same men and women. He knew he had chosen his Captain well and looked forward to leaning what he could from the eager young Calamari.

“They will be arriving within the hour captain. I suggest you get stowed away and make yourself comfortable in your new cabin. I will set up a group meeting for you and the command crew for fourteen hundred hours. That will give everyone time to settle in and eat lunch. Until then I will be in the forward command pod looking over the backup systems and fire control panels. We will need our targeting computer and gunners at the top of their game once we hit the system.”

Gresta nodded affirmatively and saluted before he left the command deck. Reshmar watched his new captain leave then turned to look out at the massive vessel bellow. Far in the distance the forward command pod rose up from the body like a dorsal fin. It was very similar to the command pod but house targeting and sensor equipment. The kilometer long walk would do Reshmar good.

The trip from Calamari to the last hyperspace jump point took eight days. In that time the crew had been drilled and trained to fight as one. All remaining personnel and equipment had been loaded at the last hyperspace jump point and the Strike force was ready to jump into the Bestine system. A motley assortment of freighters and other small craft moved slowly into position around the massive Calamari vessel. Reshmar watched as Patriot Squadron jumped into hyperspace heading for Bestine IV. Moments before Hunter Squadron jumped to its last jump point to flank the system and jump into the system from the far side of the planet as the rest of the group.

“Start the count down.”

Reshmar’s order was carried out and a small Holo projection popped up of a six digit chrono counter. It began running thru its numbers in a downward count from fifteen minutes. After the time was done the remaining forces of the strike force would jump. The waiting was the hardest part. It had always been so. Reshmar looked around the command deck at the best of what Calamari had to offer. Every man hand picked and the best at what they did. A finer crew he had never served with. His only hope was this would not be their last time serving together. So many things could go wrong. It seemed the Rebellion had lost every engagement since and leading up to Endor. Not a single Calamari Cruiser was at peak readiness. And the number of support and escort vessels grew smaller every day. This was a mission that needed to succeed not only because the need for equipment and parts was so great but the need for morale and the uplift it would have on the men, women and aliens fighting for their freedom from the empire.

A tall figure clad in the gray uniform of the Imperial Navy stood with rigid grace. His long black hair was neatly combed back and tucked under a rank baring cap. The curves of his face were sharp. The officer’s eyes had a pull to them, like stars buried in the deep void of space.

There was an aura of extreme control about Captain Thane. That he commanded a newly commissioned Victory II Star Destroyer spoke volumes on the young man’s skill and future.

The Hate Breed was a grand vessel of destruction. Her wedge shape brought focused death on any ship foolish enough to venture near. Weapon mounts were numerous and lethally placed.

She was the first of a line of newly requisitioned medium sized destroyers. Her future orders would be simple: kill terrorists.

Of course, it takes time to prepare such a large craft for the rigors of chasing, and violently ending, evildoers. Troopers, supplies, and munitions were still being loaded by shuttle as the first blips appeared on the Hate Breed’s screens.

“Sir,” the voice of a bridge crewmember who’s name Thane had yet to master, “unscheduled ships have just entered the sector.”

The ship’s commander frowned. This did not bode well.

“Contact planetary command; recheck that they’re not scheduled. In the mean time, launch Alpha Squadron and bring the rest of the fighters on standby. I want shields up, bring us in front of the yards. All weapons are to go hot.

“Stir the reactor and bring it to full action capacity. Wake up the troopers.” If anything, this would be a good drill for the crew—something that Thane had been doing to a moderate level for the duration of his stay at the Bestine yards.

Patriot Squadron entered the Bestine system as planned and began to move at flanking speed for their pass on the Shipyard. Captain Turner sat looking at the information scrolling on the built in holo pad on his chair. Tactical data and general information scrolled displaying everything from temp on the planet to the results of the scan on the Vic which was now powering up and beginning to move.

"Bring us in fast between the ship yard and the Destroyer. Do not open fire unless we are fired on until Hunter Squadron is inbound."

Warning Claxons sounded and info began scrolling informing Captain Turner of fighter launch from the Destroyer. As of yet no contact had been made with the Fleet but Bestine Ground control was franticly asking for code confirmation and vessel identification. All of which was going unanswered.

"Lets Make a pass on the Yard and try to draw those fighters away into the outer orbital area."

With that order the three Gunships rushed headlong into the gun range of the Defense Fleet and the oncoming fighters.

“No confirmation from planet-side on the craft’s intentions, Sir.”

“This’ll be a good one for the media if I’m wrong,” grinned Thane, “safeties off, all batteries open fire. All fighters launch.”

The Captain took his command chair and began to expertly sift through all the information he possessed. “Call in the Thunderous Retribution and Final Judgment, have them mingle with the yards—“ the first claps of mighty weapon fire shook the fortress-like destroyer.

“Have them launch all fighters; they’ll take commands directly from our controller. Contact the defense platform tell them these aren’t friends, I’ll take full responsibility. All fighters on the planet are to launch, tell them to get defenses up.”

Thane would rather be slapped on the wrist for being overly alarmed than die in space if this were a prelude to something larger.

“As soon as they return fire, have our fighters initiate attack runs. Make sure the pilots know to keep close to the yards and the Hate Breed. I want to have them at hand incase the situation changes.

“Hopefully, these are just pirates that have made a big mistake.” Captain Thane wouldn’t bet a single credit on what he’d just said. This had to be something more ominous. Pirates wouldn’t make the mistake of jumping into an Imperial area. They just wouldn’t.

The Three Gunships moved in on the shipyards and the oncoming defensive fleet. Four minutes had past and Captain Turner knew things had already gone badly. The fighters were not moving at top speed towards his position. They were running a line between them and the yards. Then seconds later the Victory Destroyer opened fire.

"Helm, evasive maneuvers."

Turner braced himself as the first of the green energy beams impacted the shields. Then as he was shifted to the left as the Gunship made a turn too tight for the inertial compensators to counter.

"Weapons hot and we are free to engage gentlemen. Fire a spread of concussion missiles at the Vic. then have Patriot two and three hit them with all turbolasers. Formation alpha one then fan break."

The communications officer transmitted his orders via a secure laser communications system to the other two Gunships. Then with a flash the three gunships formed a skirmish line one behind the other lead by Patriot one.

"Fish away sir transferring power to forward shielding."

Turner watched as the concussion missiles moved towards the Destroyer. Almost instantly the lights dimmed as power was diverted from everything but propulsion to increase the forward shielding. Taking the brunt of the Vic’s barrage Patriot one was losing power but still sustaining her shielding. The two escorting gunships moved along in safety behind the front gunship only offering a forward arch to the enemy.

Turner knew this would not last long. Moving like this would take its toll on his ship He could not dodge the incoming tlaser fire in alpha formation. As he watched the tactical screen he made sure his torpedo’s were running straight and were on target.

"Thirty seconds till impact"

Turner heard his gunnery commander from behind him give the status report on the trop’s. He was almost confident they would impact the Vic.

"Two more contacts coming in Sir. I have two Frigates launching fighters from the vicinity of the Shipyard. Recon has them positioned and I have them marked."

Turner nodded to his Gunnery officer then looked at the tactical display once again. His shields were dropping fast and he still had two minutes to draw fire.

"Break into fan formations and initiate Alpha strike."

From behind the lead Gunship the 2 sister gunships had diverted power to weapons and overcharges their Turbolaser cannons just for this maneuver. As Patriot one broke left Patriot two broke right and fired all its turbolasers, then patriot three broke left as she fired her turbolasers. The three gunships now broke off from the defense group in a tilted fan formation.

Turner watched as the shields began building back up now that she was free to maneuver and fewer turbolaser strikes were hitting her. The Vic had three targets now not one and they were not intending to get hit if at all possible.

In the darkness of space where the Command Cruiser Independence hung waiting for the hyperspace jump were clustered several smaller blinking lights. Near the bow of the massive warship were a modified TIE Interceptor that had clearly seen many battles as well as 5 black battle-scarred A-Wings.

"Report squadron readiness," Captain Yamagi ordered over the comms.

"Three, ready to go."

"Four's here."

"Six here with lasers ready."

"Nine is optimal."

"Eleven, ready to kick the Imps back to Coruscant."


Tai shook his head at the roll call. Endor had cut his squadron down to a mere six fighters. Too many friends had been lost in that massive engagement that had taken place over the Endor moon. There were so many losses that now, even weeks after the battle, replacements had not come through and his squadron was operating at half strength. Yet even as the Rebel Fleet was forced to retreat, leaving behind a heavily damaged Death Star II, the desire to fight was still great. Unfortunately for the time after Endor there didn't seem to much time to fight as Tai and his unit were consistently in a retreat from the ever present forces of the Imperial Navy.

So, having heard of Admiral Reshmar's foray into Imperial Territory, Tai immediately petitioned Starfighter Command for this assignment. Already running out of units to allocate, Command instantly sent the orders for deployment with the Admiral's battlegroup. That was why they were here now clustered arond the Independence's bow as the vanguard for the attack.

Making sure that his own fighter was alight, Tie reflexively tightened the gloves on his flighhtsuit and gripped the hyperspace lever in anticipatioin of the jump order.

The freighter Intruder hung in the dead of space 5 hyperspace minutes away from the Bestine Shipyards. It floated dead in space with all systems off. From the outside it looked liked a battle scared hulk just drifting in space after some battle long ago. Even scavengers probably wouldn't take a second look at the ship.

All around the ship's exterior there were small holes and long black scars. Paint had been stripped in many places, revieling the bare metal below. Patches of armor plates were attached around the hull, covering damaged areas. Along with all this, two of the ship's four large engines were damaged and out of operation. Two weapons turrets on the ship were also broken and blackened from laser hits. All in all the ship looked like it had been through very hard times.

Inside the ship, however, it was anything but dead. Men rushed through compartments and started to assemble in a hold area. In this area one men, dressed in combat fatigues and wearing a heavy blaster pistol at his thigh. He stood tall and had his hands folded over his chest. Watching his people gather as he went over the plans in his head and let his mind wonder. This was not good to do, but every commander knew that sometimes not everyone makes it out of a mission alive. Perhaps it would be him that would die this time, perhaps it was the twenty year old soldier sitting across from him. When your luck runs out, sometimes your life does as well.

Colonel William Stugard has been in the army ever since he could remember. He knew all too well that skill would protect you only to a point, but as in everything in life, sometimes luck could save your life. Many a time has his luck caused the laser shot to go just a little wide instead of impacted square into his forhead. Scars around his body showed how luck could make lethal shots hit areas just around the lethal body areas.

Going back to the mission at hand the colonel waited for every man to sit down and started his briefing. He went over the same plan they went over before. The holo projector showing the layout of the station and the movements of the other special forces team that would move inside the yards. As the briefing ended, William adressed the whole room as he reminded them how important this was for the Rebel Alliance. They needed all the supplies they could get.

"Gear up men! We're jumping out in ten!" Colonel Stugard ordered and watched the men call out and race to get their battle gear. Armor was put on, helmets were secured properly. As they did the colonel put on his own armor and helmet. He checked the power supply to his camera and his sensors, making sure his heads up display worked. As he lifted his rifle, he popped out the charge and checked it, making sure it was full.

As the time ticked down all the men got into specialized seats that would hold them down during combate manuevers and descent. Colonel Stugard watched his ment and went up and down the rows, admiring them all. He petted some on the shoulders and smiled at them, encouraging them. When the timer hit 10 he sat down and secured himself. As he finished, the whole ship lerched forward and jumped into hyperspace.

The hangers and platforms of the Naval Academy looked much like a disrupted ant hill as black suited pilots hurried to their fighters. Minutes after the order was given, down on the watery planet, nearly all available pilots had suited up and taken to their craft. The only men and women who weren't jumping into cockpits were the new cadets.

The once peaceful sound of the surf was replaced with the shrill sound of fighters launching and taking to the skies. Boom after sonic boom happened as each oneman craft surpassed the sound barrier and entered the atmosphere then broke into orbit.

Amoung the ships heading into space were a flight of assault gunboats. Green markings slashed across their wings and transponder codes had them identified as Tau squadron.

"Tau Two and Three form up, switch to TAC frequency 3. Watch your scopes as well. I don't trust these younger pilots to stay out of our tragectory."

"As ordered Captain." Came the wingmen's replies.

The flight group of gunboats fell into formaion once out of the atmosphere and pulled a wide arc to get a visual of the battle layout before heading toward the hornets nest that was the orbital ship yards.

“Tau squadron, welcome to the show,” it was the Hate Breed’s flight command. “You have freedom to select targets. Good hunting. Flight Command out.”

“Sir,” one of the controllers spoke, “Tau squadron has entered the engagement.”

“Very good. Concentrate all our fire on that,” he selected a particularly wounded enemy vessel, “intruder. We’re going to pick them off one-by-one.

“Prepare a distress call and emergency buoy just incase. I want to be ready if anymore of this scum appears on our doorstep.”

The Victory-class Star Destroyer shook as a barrage collided with its shields. Thane frowned, this was a serious show of power for some half-witted pirate. Indeed, it displayed calculation and tactical inclination.

Something devious was at hand, and Thane would not allow himself or his command to fall victim to that nefarious plan.

"So, what's on your mind, commander?" asked ensign Farroes, the capitan's bunkmate for their little room. Accomodations on the space station was a little odd, to say the least, each pair of men were assigned to their own little cabin, or room, where as on previous assingments Alexei was found to be in a barracks with tens of men bunked out beside him going down in a row. That's the way it was on Carida, where he was trained, and that was the way it was on Coruscant, his first assignement, helping the elite Imperials crack down on dissidenters that always wanted to rile up some trouble against the Empire. But after that assignment, he had been transferred out here, to this facility. He found it odd, but considering the relativle luxury of it all, he didn't particulary mind.

"Oh, just thinking about the drill assignment we had earlier today Farroes." replied the capitan. "We had a good run, really, we did, but it's still far from perfect. I mean, heck, even I'm still far from perfect myself, or at least, what my superiors at Carida would probably consider close to being perfect. I mean, here I am on Coruscant, a part of a squad cracking down on this nutjobs waving around Rebel banners and shouting words of dissident, and we were good at it. I liked being ordered around, I liked being the person that followed the other person around. And then suddenly, out of the blue, here I am transferred to a remote shipyard facility and ordered to train up a batch of new recruits up to fighting trim."

"I guess you can blame Endor on that, capitan. You know, we lost a lot of personnel in that engagement, and I think that the Imperial high command probably realized that. It's probably the reason you got sent out here, they may be scattering their best personnel across the galaxy, in order to not only keep them away from the same engagement zone, so they won't lose any more good people, but also to train up the people that they need to replace the ones they lost. The academies and all are great, but in times of crisis and rebellion such as this, you can't put all of your money in the same batch of stocks." said Farroes.

"Huh, your right. The only problem I see as far as I'm concerned is that I'm way far from the best, there are undoubtedly millions if not billions of people out there who are a lot better than me, so why? I should still be in training, and yet here I am, training these new recruits myself. I mean, did we really lose that many good people at Endor?" responded Alexei, a little shaken. He sat up from the bunk and swung his legs out and onto the floor. He was tired of looking at the ceiling. He was going for a walk. He made it as far as the door before looking out the viewport in their bunk room. There he sighted one of the two frigates assigned to protect the shipyards accelerating past the station, fighters launching from her hangar bays.

"Hey, Farroes, is there some kind of a drill going on?" asked Alexei.

"Not that I know of..." started Farroes, before he was cut off by the blaring of an alarm. The klaxon sounded a total of four times before being cut-off, bring both Farroes and Park to their feet, standing at attention where they were. A crisp sound came over the loudspeaker.

"Hostiles are entering the system and are inbound for the shipyards. This is not a drill. All personnel, this a general quarters alert. Man your battlestations." said the voice, repeating once more before a less annoying, but just as insistent alarm came back over the loudspeaker system. Park looked to his comrade before bolting out of the door, heading down the corridor torwards the locker room, Farroes right behind him. Along the way he bumped into several more of his comrades as they came out of their own bunk rooms. Around the next corner, they pushed open the doors and ran into the locker room. Each man they went to his own seperate locker and keyed in the combination they had memorized in order to open them up. Inside each locker was each man's respective stormtrooper gear.

First, the leggings. Wrap them around your waist and legs and then seal. A slight hiss of air escaping as the suit clamped over the legs and waist. Next it was the chestpiece. Wrap it around your chest, and secure the clamps. Next came the boots, then the arms, and finally the helmet. Having secured his own helmet over his head, Alexei glanced at his fellow squad members who were still suiting up. When they were done, he glanced at the chronometer in his hand. Even though this wasn't an exercise, he still wanted to see what their reaction times were. Compared to their exercise today, the squad had been slightly slower in getting their gear on, which could probably be attributed to the stress of the real thing. Hopefully they would be past it by the time this incident was over.

Next, it was a short sprint down the corridor to the armory, which had already been unlocked by the stormtrooper chief in command of Bravo company. Each man went down the line, grabbing up an E-11 blaster rifle and slinging it over their backs, a DL-11 blaster pistol which they secured to their waist, four blaster power packs, and one each of a stun and flash grenade. The twelve members of squad Kappa managed to get their weapons up and ready to go within excellent time, which meant the men were adjusting to the rigours of real combat. Good, though Alexei, they are learning fast. The men then marched out into the corridor and formed into a double line, five men to the a line, standing side by side. After briefly talking to the stormtrooper chief and recieving their orders and a situation update, Alexei and his second in command, Farroes, headed out into the corridor and each assumed a lead position in one of the two lines. Park signaled with his hand, a simple chopping motion, and the squad moved forward, heading down the corridor at a good solid trot.