The plan was going well...almost too well. The Line was almost in position, without a single ship losing shielding. We’d be able to target and destroy the Destroyer’s bridge soon. A few silent moments overtook the battlefield. Moments filled with gunners sighting in and targeting the large protrusion that appeared to be the ship’s bridge. A series of confirmations began to flood into
Hawk’s bridge. I gave a single order.
“Open fire.”
Hundreds of turbolasers and Ion cannons flared to life, while dozens of proton torpedoes left their tubes, hurtling through space towards their metallic target. Bright flashes of blue and red filled our viewports. The targeted location on the ship couldn’t last long. It’s shields would shatter under the bombardment, and the plasma and torpedos following would annihilate whatever lay below. The plan was working perfectly.
“Sir! Several large ships have been detected approaching in hyperspace!”
There’s that ambush.
“Vectors?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
Eight. Eight Star Destroyers had come out of hyperspace essentially point-blank with the 253rd. Two heavy escort cruisers were with them, and already hundreds of tiny dots appeared on radar as their hangars emptied. Alarms blared as the enemy’s guns roared to life. Just as I was about to give the order to enter hyperspace, another shout echoed across the bridge.
“Sir, there’s a gravity well! We can’t escape!”
No escape. Of course they’d bring interdictors. Any commander worth their salt would bring interdictors to an ambush. And I’d ignored that possibility. Shields began to take damage as many individual captains began to take the initiative, ordering evasive maneuvers. One’d managed to jump to hyperspace just before the enemy’s gravity well generators came online. But evasive maneuvers would only delay the inevitable if we stayed here.
“All ships, get under the original Star Destroyer!”
It was a desperate move, but maybe it’d work. I’d no idea the extent of the damage we’d manage to cause--if any, but if the line had a star destroyer between it and the rest of the ambushing fleet, we’d at least only take fire from the one, presuming it was still active. Luckily, the captains were able to break through their moment of panic to heed the order. It was too late for some though.
Ships vanished from
Hawk’s scanners, crushed under the overwhelming fire now coming our way. I didn’t know who we’d lost. The line made a dive, driving hard to put the star destroyer we’d just been firing on between us and the rest of the fleet. The
Hawk ended up at the rear of the descending ships, releasing a final defiant volley of torpedoes at the bridge of our foe. But being at the rear also put us in harm’s way.
I barely heard the shout of warning as
Hawk’s shields failed. The bridge was rocked by an explosion--the concussion missile that’d done in our shield--and I lost my balance. My head connected with railing, as pieces of shrapnel fell from the spalling ceiling. I tried to stand, bringing my head up to assess the damage, when one of the pieces struck me.
I felt the intense pain before my vision returned. My right eye wouldn’t open, and my hands instinctively clutched at where the pain originated. I tried to stand again, eventually dragging myself up. My left hand clung to the railing while my right covered my eye. Warm fluid pooled under my palm, pressed tightly just under my eye. I couldn’t hear my bridge crew shouting over the ringing in my ears. Each flash of light, sparks within or the deadly fire outside, was painfully bright. The liquid escaped my loosening grasp, rolling down my cheek, then falling off my chin. Bright red splotches formed on the metal floor where it landed. I gasped for breath, slumping into my command chair.
While I suffered through my concussion,
Hawk’s helmsman did his job damned well. The communications officer scrambled to call for a medic. Another man leapt up to help me, before being ordered back to his place at the scanners. Hawk couldn't afford to lose its eyes...
Asmundr Varobalder
- the cooler head of his Master had prevailed over Dagon's inherent stubbornness. There was one condition only - Asmundr himself would join the strike team on the so-called 'Holy City'.
