Striking at Shadows - 9.057 ABY

Sullust

Though scarred and battle-scorched by years of service, the coral white hull of the Mon Calamari Cruiser Defiance stood in stark contrast to the blackness of space as it floated peacefully in high geo-synchronous orbit. Miles below however, the surface of Sullust burned.

Admiral Tukphen had only set foot upon it's disagreeable surface a handful of times before, and even then the volcanos and smokestacks of the geologically active industrial world had spewed smoke into the fettid yellow air. Today however, the plumes and smoke clouds that spiralled their way into the upper atmosphere came from the burning of factories and homes, half-melted and smashed into craters by the ferocity of the recent Imperial assault. Even here in orbit, wreckage drifted amongst the stars like icebergs on an eerily calm sea, debris from shattered vessels and broken shipyards that the Alliance hadn't yet had time to clear away.

Tukphen was not a cold or heartless man; and he knew all too well the extents of the damage that the Imperials had wrought. The Sullustans had survived yes, fortunate in a way that the warrens and bunkers that they inhabited had left them with so few casualties from the assault itself. But while the Empire's attack lacked the full devastation and genocide that the galaxy knew they were more than capable of, they had left Sullust a wounded beast. Industry and infrastructure would take months of manpower and a fortune in resources to repair; and the injuries suffered by economy - not to mention the military - by the loss of the SoroSuub shipyards would take far longer to heal.

Tukphen had done what he could: the 613th Supply Group had already landed it's flotilla of gargantuan transports on the surface, and was unloading relief supplies and humanitarian aid, while the 643rd had spared what medical frigates and hospital ships it could to care for the injured; but it was a bandaid on a gaping wound. Pirates and opportunists would flock to the system, trying to exploit the Sullust's weakened state like carrion birds feeding on an injured whaladon; and the Alliance would be forced to dedicate more and more of it's already stretched forces and resources to protecting and healing the wounded world.

Perhaps it was not entirely what the Empire had intended, but it would be effective none the less. They had struck a vital blow, and had hurt the Empire hard.

It would only be a matter of time before they struck again; a bolder move this time perhaps, softening up the likes of Bothawui or Dac, forcing them to recall and retreat forces from the rest of the galaxy, until the Alliance to Restore the Republic hid inside the protective shell of it's homeworlds: safely contained, and robbed of the mobility that had made them such a persistant thorn in the Empire's side until now. It was what many had feared when the Alliance first proposed the liberation of Sullust: lacking the kind of home-grown military assets that the Mon Calamari or the Bothans posessed, the Alliance had not been able to secure and fortify the entire Brema Sector; and now they faced the prospect of the planet becoming another Chandrila, held hostage by the Empire in a contested region of space.

Admiral Tukphen's eyes hunghalf closed as he reluctantly imagined what the outvoted Torrsk Oruo'rel might say at having been proven right all along.

For the sake of the Alliance, and for the sake of his sanity, they needed a plan: some reaction or retaliation that would restore the reputation of the Alliance military in the eyes of it's people and the rest of the galaxy, and make the Empire think twice in the future about being foolish enough to provoke the Rebellion again.

His eyes widened again, the reflective pools of his convex vision drinking in the faces of the men he had summoned for this meeting, seated around the conference table before him. There was Admiral Tukphen, the hero whose Third Fleet had liberated Sullust, Bothawui, and Sluis Van. There was General Meirs Brecklin, the Supreme Commander of the Alliance Starfighter Corps, headquartered on the planet below; and General Dan Thule, the grizzled Alliance veteran and most senior officer that the Fourth Fleet had left to offer. There was Niev Minetti from Sullust, and Sekaj L'vehl from Sluis Van: the representatives of their respective worlds, here on Council business with Tukphen and whose council he trusted. The others he did not recognise by name, but each had been invited for their tactical insight, or their actions during the Battle of Bothawui.

His mouth hung open, words tumbling out in the warbled Mon Calamari approximation of human speech. "I'll get right to the point, gentlemen. The Empire hurt us, and hurt us badly. No one leaves this room until we've worked out how to hurt them back."

9.051
Independence Battle Group
3rd Fleet rally point one

The darkness of his room surprised Reshmar when he first woke. It was not very often he got to rest like this. A chime sounded in the air a second time. This time he was awake and recognized the sound. He sat up and turned on the dim light next to his bunk. The sound came yet a third time. Who was bothering him at this time of night. All of the patrols were here and Reshmar knew nothing of any fleet operations currently ongoing. 3rd Fleet had been at stand down since his return from Mon Calamari. A fourth chime came and Reshmar stood and walked to his desk. He turned on the overhead light and sat down. His uniform was a bit displaced from sleep but at this time of night he did not much care how he looked. He was about to find out who and what was so important he be awaken in the middle of his down watch. He depressed the communications switch and a picture of his third watch commander appeared on the screen.

"Major Markum, what can I do for you?" Reshmar wanted to lash out at the man for his offense but he knew that if the major had decided to wake him up it had to be important.

"Admiral sir, I have a priority message for you. It is labeled Dire code tango." Immediately Reshmar was fully awake. Dire codes had been introduced after Endor to relay Fleet engagment reports. Code Tango meant Imperial assault. He turned the remainder of the light on in his quarters then entered his access code into his console.

"Send it to my desk Major." The officer pressed a series of button then turned to listen to an officer off screen. Reshmar could her the off screen report. A fleet wide transmission had been sent from Alliance command. The report appeared on his panel and prompted for his Access code once again. Reshmar entered it and the report scrolled down the page. He looked at the data and could not believe his eyes. Sullust had been hit and from the report it seems hit hard. How could an Imperial Force so large go unnoticed by Alliance intelligence. The casualty count was appalling. Sullust's fleet yards and repair stations as well as its defenses had been razed. Many of the high priority manufacturing areas planet side had been glassed from orbit. It was a nightmare. The death toll was in the millions. This could not be. How did this happen. Reshmar returned his gaze back to Major Markum.

"Major Sound general Quarters set condition red fleet wide. I want all my commanders here by days end." The major saluted then relayed his orders to communications and tactical. The lights dimmed and switched to red as the Alert Klaxon sounded through out the ship. It was the middle of the night shift and he knew many would be groggy and irritated but He had plans to work out and orders to give. The stood and tightened up his uniform. He walked out into the access corridor and walked towards the bridge. Men and women ran by him headed for their action stations.

"He walked out onto the command deck and to his command seat. The captain and commander had already arrived on the bridge and were working to catch up on what was going on. Major Markum was on the comm with General Forlon, who had already received the message as well. 3rd fleet was spread out over four sectors and Reshmar could not wait for them to regroup. He brought up a fleet status display and looked at the current locations of the various groups. Admiral Holt had just returned from Sallust with the Formidable and his group. They would be close enough to join him in the trip to Sullust. General Forlon was closer to Sullust than any other task force so Reshmar had ordered him to move to Sullust at best speed. Forlon would beat him there by three days. Task Force 34 would stay behind and monitor the Perinn sector passively.

Twenty hours later More news had arrived from Sullust. Task Force 42 had arrived and repelled the Imperial Group. If not for General Dan and his Task Force Sullust would have been a total Loss. Holt and all eight of Task Force 31 and 32's commander now sat in the Independence’s Conference room. They had all offered opinions and ideas on how to proceed. Reshmar knew Sallust would be his first stop. His group would offer what assistance the could. General Forlon and Task Force 33 had been under way for Sullust for eight hours now. Reshmar had ordered him to begin setting up a temporary 3rd fleet anchorage near Sullust and offer the Sallust people full use of his group.

Admiral Holt was the first to leave. Reshmar had ordered him to begin prepping the Formidable and head straight for Mon Calamari. The remaining battle groups of the 32nd would go with him to Sullust. The commanding officer of each battle group were given individual orders then sent back to their ships. Reshmar Spoke with Admiral Redic and given him Task Force 34's orders. It had been a long twenty hours full of planning filled with many arguments and disagreement but a plan had been worked out and 3rd fleet was bound for Sullust.

Councilor Minetti's expression was dour as he listened to Tuckphen's words. They were predictable for an off-worlder.

"Perhaps we can bury the dead first and then avenge them. My world has been shattered, Admiral. How shall we avenge our fallen comrades in such a state?"

If the Alliance fleet mobilized in a reciprocative campaign, then what would become of Sullust? A warzone left to stagnate as a secondary concern to their masters? How far had Sullust pulled the Alliance along with her foundries?

If Tukphen had posessed the necessary facial muscles, he would have cast a scowl at his Sullustan counterpart. Instead he merely fixed him with as intense a stare as his aquatic eyes could muster.

"You are a land mammal, Niev. But the galaxy isn't like the deserts and plains of your world; it is more like the open oceans of mine. There are no caves to crawl into, nor rocks to hide behind. We are exposed in a sea of stars; and the Empire is the apex predator, lurking in the darkness, waiting to strike."

There was a darkness to his words: not one born of threat, but instead of memory. His lids hung half-closed as he recalled the oceanic hunts of his youth, and the lessons his grandfather had taught him.

"The Empire circles us like an Eraki Shark. They have taken a bite out of us, and now they wait, letting the salt water seep into the open wound; letting the blood loss weaken us. If we float here, tending to our wounds, then yes: perhaps we will stop the bleeding. But by then it will be too late: the scent of our blood will have summoned others, and the Eraki Shark will attack again, in greater numbers than before."

Subconsciously, his hand strayed to his hip, webbed fingers trailing across the crescent moon of razor scars that still lingered on his skin even after all these years. "When I was but a boy, I was attacked by such a beast. Pride wishes that I could claim that I defeated it myself, but in truth I did not: a pod of Turka from nearby came to my rescue. Turka have no teeth, no claws; until that day I would never have dreamed that even a hundred could match an Eraki Shark. I was wrong."

"Three of them swam at the beast, slamming into it with all their might. They didn't stop; they hit it again and again, pummelling the Eraki Shark relentlessly until it swam away. Those Turka knew they wouldn't be able to kill the beast; they didn't try. They simply hit it, again and again, until it decided that I was too troublesome a prey to be worth the effort."

His hand gestured around the table: to Reshmar; to Brecklin; to Thule and his Captains. "We are your Turka, Niev. What would you rather we do: wait beside you while the Eraki Sharks gather for the kill, or attack the beast until it realises that choosing Sullust as it's prey was a dire mistake?"

Niev didn't have time for this condescending military commander to dawdle around the point with parables, and he placed both hands on the table as he spoke.

"And without Sullustan fighters from Sullustan foundries and factories, how long will your Turka swim then, eh?"

He chewed on his words a bit as he looked around the table.

"We've attended to the most immediate relief, and for that my people are grateful. But that work and their sacrifice are hollow if you are quick to winnow the defenses that only now barely hold this sector together."

The councilor had to be careful here. He wouldn't risk alienating his position and possibly calling into question Sullust's allegiance to the Alliance. They were committed.

"I'm not a military man, and I have no talent for combat. I do, however, have talent for production. Production, need I remind you, that our friends receive at wholesale, or even deferred payment. Our economic stake in this is sheer madness, justified only if we win this war.

So then fight. But I urge you to do so wisely."

There were times when Tukphen forgot to treat every conversation with Niev Minetii as if it were a contract negotiation. On the one hand he was the representative of his people on the Alliance Advisory Council; on the other he was the CEO of SoroSuub. The two roles seemed to overlap remarkably well, Minetii constantly focussed on maximising profit and minimising loss for the people he associated with.

Unfortunately, this left the Sullustan with a seemingly narrow perspective at times. To Minetii, the shipyards owned by other corporations were rivals. Every ship purchased from the Mon Calamari Shipyards was a ship that should have been purchased at Sullust. Every fighter built by Incom or Slayn & Korpil - designs preferred over their Sullustan counterparts by most Alliance pilots - was one that didn't roll off the lines at SoroSuub. Despite his species though, Tukphen couldn't afford to be biased. Ordnance & Supply sourced ships from anywhere - everywhere - they possibly could, no matter which company stencilled it's name on the engine.

"Your people's contributions to this Alliance are well-recognised, and well-documented," Tukphen reminded. He fought the urge to point out that Niev's political role was a prime example of that: seats on the Advisory Council were reserved for the honoured few races whose contributions to the Alliance went above and beyond.

"And rest assured," he added quietly. "No matter what action we take, we will not allow Sullust to be so easily harmed again."

Reshmar had no desire to get involved with the twos argument. He had just arrived when the meeting had begun. It had been days since he had slept, and He was rushed into this meeting without seeing to his fleet upon arrival. The Had never dealt with the Sullustian Minetii, The man was a bureaucrat not a warrior. He was concerned about his people, well at least their future profit capabilities. That type had its place, this was not one of them. He had had enough of this. Tukphen was a fine man and a capable commander, but in this room at this time he and the Sullustian had found themselves in a stalemate.

"Gentlemen, My I speak, Mister Minetii, I understand your concern about the future of your world. As Admiral Tukphen has said, We will see to any and all concessions your people need. However we will not let this act go unanswered either.”

General Forlon had done as ordered and seen to the stand down operation of third fleet. One hundred and forty seven ships how hang in space on the far side of Sulon All had begun co-ordination rescue efforts and pulling supply’s from their holds for transport to the planets surface. The fleets Tender had moved in and docked with the Startide which had taken heavy damage in the final stage of the battle. A defensive CAP had been launched to patrol the area for stray TIE fighters left behind.

Now that all that was done his mind shifted to on of revenge. He had nearly died in the last major battle he had commander against Grand Admiral Desarias forces and had been looking for some redemption since. He looked over a display of the galaxy. Zooming in on this sector and that. He knew that Sullust was gashed and bleeding. He knew that the resources of two fleets were poised to deal with the task of reviving this once great world. What he did not see was him being a part of it. He sat quietly for a moment then turned on a com channel.

“Commander, Get word to the Myrmidon. Have Colonel Connors report to War Eagle's ready room by twelve hundred hours.”

He got an affirmative response then sat back to look over the map once again.

The massive shape of the Formidable escaped hyperspace nearly two billion kilometers form the shipyard encircled world of Dac. Immediately the ship was greeted by the standard relay message.

“Incoming vessel power down your shielding and move to sector one one two.”

The massive ship would be more than a tug could handle and was routed to egress point charlie to be identified and cleared to entry into the inner system. A flight of fighters buzzed the ship to look it over and report. He watched the form of a calamari cruiser moving in the distance in response to a warship entering the system. He sat patiently and waited as Dac system control verified the codes he had sent them then re-verified them.

“Formidable, this is Calamari outer system relay. Please proceed to beacon seventeen fifty one and await inner system control to clear you for docking.”

Holt listened as his XO confirmed the order and made preparations to move the ship into the system. The cruiser in the distance shadowed the Formidable watching and waiting for any hostile action to pounce. He and the commander of the cruiser knew that out here it would have been a suicide mission but he respected the commanders commitment.

“Captain, I will retire to my quarters and prepare to greet what I am sure will be someone important.”

The Formidable s captain nodded and went back to directing the ship. Holt walked the short hall to his quarters. It had been months since he took command of the formidable. Courageous was a shadow of what she once was and would more than likely never see action again.

He entered his quarters and put on an Alderanian suite low in the background. He had an important mission here and he needed to be as calm as possible for what he knew would be a headache to work out.