Ceremony of Shadows - the Second Solaarian War(Intro-Finished)

[Telan Desaria]

Rutan
Vivenda Sector


The sky had been black for as long as he could remember. Looking up from his estate, Vice Admiral S. D. K. Dennison saw not sky or cloud - - indeed, Rutan had not been a planet in the traditional sense for six millennia. The texts of history claimed that a great and long waged war ended only when each enemy had shelled the other into submission using any and all munitions available. Even today one had to leave one's shields up when passing through the decayed surface and its swirling mass of raditaion into the habitated expanses below.


Vice Admiral Dennison sighed, knowing that his name was associated with the death of his world. It was Alfons Dennsion, Governor of the Tallaran Region, who had first suggested the use of trillennium as a weapon. It was that man who volunteered to command the attack at its baptismal use - - he was present to see the City of Ulster completely decimated by a blast twenty kilometers high. He was also killed in the weeks following by the growing level of radiation in the atmosphere.


For reality's sake, the Vice Admiral tapped a finger on the glass separating him from the vacuum of space. He felt the pain of generations long dead and the responsibility for his world's virtual demise. In his right, he had proven a fair and just leader in his time, but even when the population lauded him he wanted to tear the Seal of the Office of Governor of Rutan from his breast.


" A safe journey to you, Father."


Dennison looked from the glass to his young and enthusiastic daughter. He was proud she had inherited nothing from him - - he was tall, she short; he was a tad stocky, she as thin as a rail: he lamented the actions of the past, she took responsibility for the future.


Lord Governess Malinda bowed to her father in his newly-cut Imperial uniform. He smiled kindly, and, with a tear in his eye, departed.

- - -

Making a graceful passage through the surface of Rutan, the Lambda-class Shuttle Alferon twisted and turned to make a slow entrance into orbit. Its lone passenger looked back, clearly seeing the mass of windows pearing through the desolate surface. Most eerily of all, what remained of an expansive farm, now cloaked in dust and the wear of the ages, stood perpendicular to life underground.


Pleased to cast off a wealth of horrid memories, Vice Admiral Dennison looked away from his years as an officer in the planetary navy and forward to a career in the Imperial Fleet.

[Telan Desaria]

Imperial Command and Contol Center
Xucphra City, Thyferra


Mitchell Reichenau gave the sleeves of his tunic a stiff tug, the movement of his arms matching the movement of his staff car as it jostled through the main gate. Guards on every side saluted the pendant flying from the front fender, its normally white background replaced by the blood red of the General Staff.


Despite being a military compound at the center of the capital city, an impressive corridor lined with trees lead from the main gate to the lobby, itself some five levels from polished floor to vaulted ceiling. Perhaps the way events had enfolded, perhaps for the very reason they had proceeded, Reichenau felt worthy of stepping into that grand reception area. His mind was totally free of the awe that had preoccupied him only months before.


Brigadier General. Rank does do wonders for ones esteem.


A briefcase clutched in his left hand, he returned the salute of hall guards with the other. A slight chill was in the morning air and so his field grey great coat obscured the Raltiir Clasp he had been awarded in concert with his promotion.


" Good morning, Mitch," called Colonel Xenntel Trader, looking up from the morning Carida-News Newtork report he had been so engrossedly scanning. Tossing the document aside, he opened the door and the pair entered Reichenau's office.


The General unfasted the manacle that had connected him with his attache-case and near-threw it onto a nearby chair. The great coat followed on top, itself trailed by his visor cap. The audible clanking from his prosthetic leg upon the floor fell silent when he plopped down behind his desk. His office was by no means spacious, but it did have a view - even if only from the tenth storey of the building, it was more than some officers had.


" Anything come from this morning's meal on high?"


Reichenau mock-snarled at his friend, ignoring the gibe aimed at the daily breakfast the Chief of the General Staff hosted with nearly fifty of his subordinates. " This morning we reviewed reports submitted by some front-line commanders in the Mayagil Sector."


" Oh? Anything terribly exciting going on in that region of space?"


" Not comparably - - actions over Bestine have preoccupied everyone. We've held the world for three weeks and no counter attack - - yet. Every officer worth his insignia anywhere knows they'll hit us, the question simply is when."


" And this is stunning news how?"


Reichenau smiled, his friend only playing dumb. " Please Xen. Everyone away from the newly formed front is itching for action. We can't give it to them on a scale they want lest we be spread too thin, but if we do nothing, we risk letting apathy take hold in the ranks. That is a cancer we cannot afford."


" Oh no. Marshal Prem gave his dining peers an order to find them something to do."


" Exactly. And just as he told me, Im telling you. So grab a holomap, it's going to be a long day."

[Telan Desaria]

Clak'dor VII


A day had passed while the Alferon glided through hyperspace en route to its destination, the Empire's newest flag officer in its passanger compartment. When it arrived above the waste-lande world besieged by the forces of the Imperial Navy, Vice Admiral S. D. K. Dennison was glad to be done with the trip. It was not the endless stream of blues and whites that had bored him; rather, he was ecstatic to be able to throw himself into an assignment and put Rutan behind him.


The Alferon made a complete sweep of the system from one end to the other, letting its VIP cargo take in every aspect of his command personally. Vice Admiral Dennison was not suprised at the age and near obsolescence of the craft for he had been so prepared - - what astonished him was the high level of excellence with which they were handled. The disparities of a generation before were being compensated for by modern tactics and Imperial diligence.


The tour complete, Vice Admiral Dennison made his way towards his destination.


That it should fill the role of command ship was odd in its original stance. Originally the Invincible-class warships were designated as Heavy Cruisers - and still were by the waning power of the Corporate Sector Authority. Such a designation was tossed aside by the Empire for the hundreds of subsequent designs that were smaller than its 1,500m length and five times as powerful. No - the ship upon which the Vice Admiral landed was dubbed a Fleet Carrier and named the Carnosaur.


" Welcome aboard, Your Grace."


Dennison imperceptibly shuddered as the warship's captain spoke. The Empire in its brilliance had awarded the title of Count to the Admiral in recognition of his service as Governor and though he was grateful, the mere mention of it recalled his own homeworld. He made a note to ignore it for he did not doubt that the aristocratic Imperial Officer Corps would not let him forget it.


" Thank you, Captain Vremd. You have done an excllent job." Dennison was not lying - Imperial High Command, in its report to him, was most congratulatory of the junior officer's record of commanding the siege forces in the absance of higher powers.


" Tell me - - how long have you been master of this vessel?"


The Captain perked up, obviously pleased to speak on a subject he had such an intimate knowledge of. " Six years, Admiral. She was converted a year before that and refitted at the Trebizond Yards after the Fragmentation. She can carry twelve squadrons of fighters an entire wing of assault craft. Weaponry was recently upgraded to twenty turbolaser cannon and fifty Phalanx Fighter Systems."


Dennison raised his eyebrows, intrigued. Such a ship was powerful in its own right, though when contrasted with her size the number of heavy weapons should have been tripled.


" Excellent, Captain. Walk with me - tell me of this siege..."

[Telan Desaria]

Vice Admiral Dennison walked along the expansive corridors of the near century old warship and listened intently as his flag captain a detailed account of events passed. The main theme had been presented accurately by Imperial High Command, but a great deal had been left out.


Dennison allowed the Captain return the salutes of passing officers and standing guards, himself concentrating on the words flowing from Vremd. Everything he was told oddly enough did not detract from the Captain's ability as acting commander, but he was not vain enough to paint himself in a ridiculously flattering light.


Apparently, the planetary garrison had sortied several times and engaged the Imperial forces above. After seven times, Vremd found the launch site for the smaller craft and smashed it to bits, but it was not until that seventh time he realized that the attack itself was a diversion. The waves of sacrificed soldiers drew Imperial attention away from sublight couriers who were sneaking messages to the New Republic.


The Admiral noted a tinge of pain come over his captain's face when he revealed that he had been repeatedly tricked.


" Mistakes are always going to be made regardless of what rank is palced on your breast. The grade of that rank depends on whether or not you have learned from that mistake - - not when."


Vremd, reassured, continued his presentation which lasted well beyond the tour and spilled over into a cordial relaxation period over a bottle of chilled cognac.

[Telan Desaria]

Solaarian Central Command

Xagobah


Admiral-Count von der Heydte sighed, finally allowing decorum to fade into nothingess. For the past five hours he had argued against what the political leaders of the Solaarian Confederation proposed. When arguing failed, he pleaded with the members of the Senior Committee to abandon their foolhardy idea. Shortly thereafter he tried his hand at begging, though it too ultimately failed.


Standing half concealed behind a wooden podium, he was finally able to tune out the media recorders, the endless rows of press looking at him with a hungry gaze. He knew that every one of them wanted him to lose his calm, wanted him to explode - - they would then jockey for the prime time spot on the evening news, each one competing to submit what he considered the best view of the volatile flag officer.


Count von der Heydte had no intention of giving them that satisfcation when he entered the room, though now he could care less. Those who sat at the head of Solaaria seemed bent and determined to ruin all they had worked for, though their limited view of events as they would come illuminated only the positive possibilities and none of the negatives.


Fools. They care not how many men they send to their deaths.


" I ask you again, reconsider." The Count removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. " What you are proposing - what you are ordering me to do - will result in failure, if not now then soon enough for everyone in this room to rue the consequences."


Lord Raglan, Chairman of the Committee and second in power only to the Chief of State, leaned forward and twiched his antennae. " We thank you for your candor, Admiral. However, our decision stands. You will liberate Clak'dor VII and the New Republic will thusly increase its shipments of funds and materiale to us. Their gratitude can be boundless and I intend to be on that gratitude's receiving. It is better to be damned for action than inaction."


His prophetic words silenced the murmur of the crowd and let the Admiral give the cameras one last show of resignation. Nodding, he saluted, and departed the stage as quickly as he could without breaking into a run.


The Imperials don't like to be stung - they often swat heavily. These bumbling idiots think a few spare corvettes are worth it - - we'll lose more than that when they counter attack. There may be an upside, though. Perhaps starting hostilities with the Imps - again - will allow me to route their personal transports into a combat zone...

[Telan Desaria]

Periphery of Clak'dor System


The Carnosaur pitched to starboard, the deck slanting in ever increasing degrees as the turn reached its zenith. Slowly the large fleet carrier returned to a stable axis and now faced the world of Clak'dor IX. Vice Admiral Dennison, now well at home upon her bridge, made a note to commend the engineering staff - when he boarded the vessel, articles would literally roll across his desk with every turn. Their efficiency at improving the inertial dampening fields was laudable.


" Status of launch sequence?"


" Launch preparations complete: all squadrons ready for immediate deployment," reported Captain Vremd, himself standing over the shoulder of the flight operations officer.


Dennison took note again of his second's aptitude for being everywhere at once. No matter one could speak on the Vice Admiral's flag captain, he was nothing if not dedicated. When that thought was filed into the depths of his mind, Dennison made another mental memoranda chidding High Command for not refitting his flagship's bridge: it was all on two levels, one above the primary as opposed to one below. There was no crew pit, instead rows of duty stations lined the walls and primary positions interrupted Dennison's line of sight to the bow viewports.


" CommScan - update if you pleasenow that we are in optimal range."


Out of the corner of his eye, Dennison saw Captain Vremd move towards the bow where the tasked crewman labored, but was not halfway there when he delivered his report.


" Admiral, sensors are showing seven Nebulon-C frigates coming out of orbit of the ninth planet. Five Corellian Flamer-class Gunships are en route to their loaction from that planet's sixth moon."


Dennison arched an eyebrow - the forces arrayed against him could not have come from Clak'dor VII - they had nothing of that calibre left to launch against the Imperial siege forces. " Sensors - full diagnostic. Flight Ops - deploy Defender Squadrons One and Two. Immediately to reach that destination - perhaps we are being fed sensor echoes."


Vremd smiled as he switched course aft, happier with that than being caught so unaware.


" Squadrons One and Two deployed, Admiral. Estimated time to intercept, three minutes."


Gritting his teeth, Dennison sought an explanation. Nothing coming to mind was feasible. At best, he was being tricked.


" Admiral, diagnostic complete. Primary, auxilliary, and tertiary sensor suites in full operational order. Negative on jamming - no maintenance has taken place for seven days."


One thing to make this worse - everything is working. Let us hope those fighters find suspended proton emitters...

[Telan Desaria]

Defender Squadron One made its way towards the lumbering craft growing silently in the distance, its dozen pilots spreaing out as they did. Three flights of the triple-winged superiority fighters fanned out gracefully as distance increased from the cylindrical Carnosaur.


" Black Asp 4 to Lead."


Captain Ferance Gammlion ignored an itch working his way into his psyche - donning the vacuum sealed suit of a TIE pilot, he could not scratch the irritation on his freshly shaved neck. " Lead - go ahead."


" I am getting active scans. Those aren't ghosts."


" Continue scanning. The Boss wants adetailed report."


With that sentence as a prologue, a blast of energy sizzled between Lead and his wingman.


" Report hell - - they're real!"

[Telan Desaria]

Clak'dor System


The frigate Swift Vengeance sat comfortably at the middle of the formation, four of its peers pushed forward in the first echelon. One more greyish craft sat just off her haunches as the second - - however, every crewman and officer knew that Rear Admiral Graxton always feared attacks on his command ship and took the neccessary steps to prevent it even if that meant altering the plan of attack.


Most, including Captain Fermi, direct master of the Vengeance, were openly contemptuous of the gradiose flag officer. One thing they could not say was that he was incompetent for Graxton had won more battles than he had lost.


" Range to Imperial capital warships."


An officer in the bridge called out an answer. " Two minutes to maximum range, four to effective range."


Graxton smiled. The anti-fighter batteries on the leading vessels had dealt handily with the Imperial fighter sortee. They had retreated in fact - with losses, a fact that Graxton was not pleased with. All in all, he would keep reprimands from the battery commanders since the results were acceptable.


" Sensors - updated count on enemy vessels."


Captain Fermi moved to the seated Rear Admiral from the sensor station. " One Invincible-class Cruiser, six pickets in immediate threat area. Two Carrack-class Cruisers, two Dreadnaughts, and three other frigates are inbound. Time to intercept - - seven minutes."


" Very well," the grey haired Graxton replied. " We shall dispatch those before us and then deal with their reinforcements. Send the corvettes into the path of the incoming ships - - let us procure a little more time to deal with them."


Graxton pointed a slender finger out the viewport towards the drastically refitted cylinder whose IFF beacon identified her as the Carnosaur.

[Telan Desaria]

The orders came from the bridge for the deployment of the entire fighter compliment. With the sounding of the klaxon, those crews that were on alert, vacuum suits on but open, jumped to their booted feet and ran to their craft. Flights of grey and black TIEs screamed through the magentic space-shield, each small grouping making the formation about the carrier a little larger. Joining them were the sixteen assault shuttles of the 101st and 102nd Assault Squadrons.


Vice Admiral Dennison watched the parade of fighters pass the bridge viewports, pleased with their precision. Now, he noted, was not the time for notes on their form. His duty lay in command - a solemn duty at that, for deep in his soul rested the knowledge that many of the squadron leaders wiggling their wings at the bridge in salute would soon be sent into battle and possibly to their deaths.


Issuing orders, he watched the mass of durasteel struts and solar pannels split as he commanded. The waves of Defenders fell upon the enemy vessels, tagged as Solaarian, from above and below the plain of battle. Darts of neon shot out from the high speed vessels, reduced visually to mere specs, and were met by orange-red blasts in kind. Even at their great range, some specs could be seen flaring into bright balls of light before fading into oblivion.


Officers on the bridge called out status reports, pleasing to ears of those in command. At a loss of only fifteen vessels, two of the frigates were reducing speed and dropping out of formation due to missile damage. Half of the Defenders were doing the remarkable but suicidal job of distracting the Solaarian anti-aerial gunners while the other half unloaded missile salvoes into key systems - - - tactics the Rebellion had developed and the Empire learned. The General Staff school saw to that.


" Range to target?" the Admiral querried.


" Within maximum range. Pickets have engaged the left-flank of the Solaarian forward line."


" Concentrate your fire on the right - move all fighters over with the pickets - - the last thing we want is friendly-fire casualties. Status of our reinforcements?"


" Enemy corvettes have intercepted Commander Jenkins' Dreadnaught and its escorts. He reports their shields failing. ETA in range - five minutes."


This commander is a fool. He is coming in slow and waiting to open up with his larger guns. He expects victory and doesn't allow himself the thought of defeat. He has judged me - my command - by the appearance of this ship. Let us prove him wrong.


" Guns - open fire."

- - -

Four Hours Later

Retransmitted through HoloNet Substation 732649-HGU


After-Action Report

Officer Commanding: Vice Admiral A. D. K. Dennison

Following assumed faulty sensor readings, ships of Command Escort Squadron moved to investigate seven Nebulon-D Frigates. Defender Squadrons One and Two sent to intercept and make a complete scan. Readings verified - - ships engaged. Five additional Flamer-class Corvettes also indentified; moved to intercept in bound reinforcements.

Fighter escorts sent forward to engage advancing enemy ships - - enemy vessels reduced in strength by sixty percent. When in heavy weapons range, Command Escort Squadron dispatched remaining enemy vessels.

Dispatched corvettes eliminated by reinforcements.

All enemy vessels verified as having Solaarian command and affiliation.

Recommendation appended for Major Johannes Rensom, Imperial Fighter Corps for Imperial Cross (Posthumous); Senior Commander J. K. Rolffing, Imperial Navy, for War Merit Cross, First Class.

Losses sustained - - Picket Pteradon destroyed, six others undergoing repairs. Fighters - - 46 Defender Mark IIIs, 4 Mark IVs destroyed.

Enemy Losses - six Nebulon D Frigates, five Corvettes.

(signed)
Vice Admiral Dennison

[Telan Desaria]

Imperial High Command

Isle of Orrl, Thyferra


A cool breeze blew in off the breaking waves below, rustling the great coat of Brigadier General Reichenau. He looked down and watched the forces of nature flail against the ferrocrete bastion on the northern end of the island. Large obstacles blocked the way of those storm driven tides that had eradicated many an ocean side resort.


The storm has passed overhead but the ominous thunderclaps continued as did strong gusts out of the southeast. Reichenau could not help but recall to mind the various posters put out by the Ministry of Trade in their many attempts to woo vacationers to the Imperial capital. In them was portrayed a tropical paraidse - - two very false notions. For the last forty years, the Empire had softened the temperature and eradicated the humidity - - as a by product, storms and clouds revailed in the ocean and along the coast, giving many areas a mystique and allure that drew more than the dank weather of Endorian times.


Reichenau glanced back from the seawall to his attache case and the missive therein - - it awaited his signature. The garrison commander at Clak'dor had been attacked. Though victorious, it was an obvious presage to future aggression. He nad his staff had decided on Solaaria as the region for the next Imperial offensive, but such preparations were incomplete and would remain so for another week at least.


Marshal Prem was immediately informed of the most recent engagement on the periphery of the Empire and set nearly the entireity of the General Staff to work on eliminating them as a threat. They set to work with all enthusiasm merited the wearers of the coveted crimson trouser stripe, but Reichenau had doubts. He had fears the New Republic would suddenly switch from obscure operational aide to full fledged military support. However, they were preoccupied with Bestine and the threat to the Core - - they would doubtless choose it over Solaaria as the crux of their attention.


But it was always possible.


Reichenau did not doubt victory over Solaaria, or the New Republic for that matter - - he simply did not want one to interefere with the other. If there are officers who have won a two front offensive, it's Desaria and Prem. May the Gods be merciful.


He moved to his case and readied his signature - - and the commencement of the Second Solaarian War.

[Telan Desaria]

Periphery of the Sluis Sector

Solaarian Flagship - - Battleship Mystique


The perverbial die had been cast.


Singly flailing his arm, Count von der Heydte knocked a report filed by Admiral Graxton onto the floor from his desk. The sound of the pad's faceplate shattering on impact with steel decking filled the small office chamber. For a scant second a small display of electric light flared in the now open expanse of the screen, sparks longing for life and having their wish granted for the minutes fraction of time.


Pompous fool.


Rear Admiral Graxton had sacrificed his command, gambling that the antiquated sips the Imperial Navy deployed over Clak'dor would crumble when he appeared. He had lost, the ships' facades in no way revealing the mettle of the men and officers therein. Six frigates and as many gunships were now either destroyed or in Imperial hands - - ships whose crews were valiant and brave. They could not be blamed for having faith in their commander - it was indeed Admiral von der Heydte who would bear the blame. He knew only too well of that officer's incompetence but yielded to the loud voices of that admiral's friends in office.


Pax, the small terrish the Count had made his pet many years ago, jumped up into his lap offering the only comfort and solace available. Nearly ten thousand men were dead - - six fighter squadrons felled without ever being deployed.


Running an aged hand over the soft furry mane of his pet, von der Heydte used his free hand to attach his seal to the order demanding Rear Admiral Graxton return to Xagobah and relinquish his command. The Count made one mistake by allowing politics to play a role in the military - - he would not repeat it.


Your friends gave you your command, let us see if they can save you now. May they have mercy on you - - I won't.


The Count turned to remove a new stylus from his drawer when the comm system chirped. Pax, startled, disappeared under the desk.


" Yes?"


" Admiral, we have reports from Tiderian Station - they are under attack. Enemy ships identified as Imperial, deployed from the Mayagil Sector Fleet."


von der Heydte hung his head. It begins.