Chapter 65_Sublight Drive (Star Wars)

Skako Orbit, Skako System

 Bormea Sector

 Captain Jan Dodonna pushed down his unease as his shuttle made the transit to fleet gship Arlionne, the mighty warship like a dagger poised directly over the heart of Skako. The glittering ecumenopolis hung in the void like a suspended pearl, its gleaming shields warping the atmosphere like a technological aurora. The world’s thick methane atmosphere absorbed its sun’s infrared radiation, granting the pearl a bluish tint. Jan Dodonna didn’t think himself a particrly brave man, and his belly knotted with tension as he thought of the recent developments on the front. But he was a captain of the Republic Navy, and he was nothing if not dutiful.

 Jan watched out the viewports as the shuttle manoeuvred to dock, overhauling the nine-hundred metre Victory-ss heavy cruiser, and it took all he had not to gawk like a cadet on his first deployment. Arlionne was neitherrge nor menacing–in fact, his own ship the Venator-ss Prudence boasted almost twice her length. But the hollow throats of missileunchers and the ominous snouts of turbsers heavy and light crouched in her open artillery decks betrayed the truth of it. Within thatpact frame, Arlionne possessed an entire battleship’s worth of guns, and with its two massive shield generators and an almostically oversized sr ionisation reactor that bulged out from its hull, she could take on two or even three Venators and beat them all bloody.

 Pocket battleship. The affectionate epithet started somewhere in the ranks of the Navy, but Jan Dodonna found it fitting. A marvel of design and engineering even he could appreciate. The Republic Navy’s answer to the Separatist starfleet’s missile doctrine. There was a reason Admiral Honor Salima opted to transfer her g from the traditional gship of the Coruscant Home Defence Fleet, after all.

 Regardless, Arlionne was not the Victory-ss heavy cruiser in service of the Home Fleet, and the sheer number of them dotting the skies over Skako truly baffled Jan. Only three standard years ago, the process of construction, trials, evaluations andmissioning would be far more extended, stifled by regtions and treaties and all sorts of other bureaucratic devilry. But there was no time for that now. The tempo of construction andmissioning was almost scary, if not even careless, but the reason for such a hurry was enough to convince even the most fastidious of ssification societies towards the necessity.

 The cruiser’s tractor beams reached out to the shuttle, capturing it and easing it into the brilliantly lit cavern of the fighterunch bay. Jan was marching down the ramp before it had even touched the polish deck, and the officer of the deck came up with his spotless, perfectly creased uniform, datapad tucked under one elbow and other raised in a crisp salute.

 “Permission toe aboard, officer?”

 “Wee aboard, sir.”There wasn’t even a pause in the Captain’s stride as he crossed the demarcation line, officially stepping aboard Star Destroyer Arlionne. Her defining feature? Cleanliness. Admiral Honor ran a tight ship. There was not a blemish on the reflective floor, not an unsecured crate, and not an ill-worn uniform in sight. Strain his ears as he might, the Captain couldn’t even hear the usual casual chatter one might on the deck.

 He reached the bridge through simrly muted corridors, and appreciated how much shorter a distance it waspared to the Prudence. Arlionne’s bridge was a wholly different beastpared to Prudence’s. It was smaller, for one–as a Venator served not just a ship-of-the-line but also amand vessel, while a Victory was designed to be a frontline brawler–and did not possess the expanded tactical section the former had. Nor did she possess the nearly 270-degree field of vision Prudence found necessary as abat carrier. Arlionne was smaller, more focused, sharper. Jan Dodonna felt like he was looking through the eyes of a hunting hound.

 Captain Jan Dodonna saluted the back of the figure standing on the central causeway, “Captain Dodonna reporting, sir.”

 Admiral Honor Salima was a tall woman, straight-backed and stern, and hair cropped into a neat pixie. At her side was the g captain of the Arlionne, Captain Terrinald Screed. His was the sort of face that revealed very little, in no small part due to his one prosthetic eye, but the des to his name were impressive. Which they ought to be. The Home Fleet was now the most modernmand in the Republic Navy, and the Admiralty wouldn’t have picked its g captain’s name out of a hat. For a time, all that could be heard on the bridge was Admiral Honor’s footsteps and the chime of electronics as she approached him.

 “Well done, Captain,” she appraised, “With this, the Bulwark Fleet is at its end.”

 Jan nodded diffidently. The Home Fleet had run Dua Ningo ragged, with the main body under Admiral Honor herself pursuing him system to system while a smaller detachment under Captain Dodonna nked and cut off every avenue of escape the old Sullustan had. It was a well-nned dance of fleets and warships, slowly grinding down the Bulwark Fleet until they had no choice but to find a safe harbour for repairs. The Techno Union world of Skako was thergest Separatist shipyard in the region.

 “High Command has us ordered to expedite the destruction of the Bulwark Fleet, Admiral,” Captain Dodonna said, “They want us to put a pin to the Perlemian Coalition’s rampage.”

 The edge of Admiral Honor’s lips curled upwards, “Indeed they have. Does that cesspit on Coruscant believe I am omnipresent? Do they think I have eyes over the whole Hydian Way? Do they think I can conjure warships from vacuum to patrol it? There’s no pinning an enemy that can appear and disappear at will.”

 “They believe we did it for the Bulwark Fleet,” g Captain Screed pointed out.

 Admiral Honor narrowed her eyes into daggers, “Nonsense. Dua Ningo is an older breed. He likes his eggs in one basket, where he can watch over all of them at any time. The only type of naval warfare he canprehend is that ofrge naval engagements and showpiece battles. If that old alien had the sense to split his fleet like Calli Trilm did, he would already be back in Separatist space.”

 The Admiral spun on her heel, marching back out towards the viewports. Captains Terrinald and Jan shared a knowing look. They had a history that dated back to service in the Judicial Forces of the Republic, having participated in the Stark Hyperspace War among other anti-pirate campaigns. It was said Terrinald lost his eye to a Biskaran Pirate during the Siege of Niele, where half his face was carved out by a madman with a vibro-axe as a price for his breakthrough.

 “I heard your son was at Commenor,” Terrinald said softly.

 “He was,” Jan stiffened, and it took everything he had to not choke on his next words, “But nothing’s been… confirmed.”

 Terrinald looked down, nodding minutely, “We all do our duty.”

 Captain Screed gripped his shoulder tightly, before releasing him and turning around towards the Admiral; “Are we to ignore the order, then?”

 Admiral Honor’s shoulders tensed, her hands behind her back as she looked on towards Skako. Jan followed her gaze, at the tiny droplets rippling over itsary shields like rain falling upon a stillke. Missiles. Turbsers. The entire Home Fleet was pounding away at Skako’s shields, having seeded the 1st Reserve Armada’s role in that purpose. One might believe a’s shield was homogenous, and they would be wrong. There was no shield generator in the gxy yet powerful enough to epass an entire in its protective shell. Instead,ary shields were more or less aposite of densely packed shield generators all activated to create ovepping shells across the entire surface of a.

 This meant that to break aary shield, a besieging fleet must identify its weakest point and concentrate all fire upon it there. Many worlds opt to evenly space out their shield generators, of course, but most tend to concentrate their shields over urban and industrial sectors, leaving rural areas less shielded. Usually, that would be where the shield was pierced, allowing armies to be insertedside and assault the world from the ground. But Skako was an ecumenopolis–a city-world–and it was the homeworld of one the most technologically advanced species in the gxy, the headquarters of the Techno Union.

 The Home Fleet had relented to bombarding the shields over the shipyards that housed the Bulwark Fleet. It was their target, after all.

 “Ignore…?” the Admiral of the Home Fleet mused, “Maybe if those feckless puppets in High Command hadn’t been so preupied with kissing Palpatine’s wrinkled toes, they would have advised the delusional old fool against sending the fleets to the frontier. That decision has achieved nothing but a cascade of consequences since.”

 The two captains remained silent to the Admiral’s scathing remarks. It was a sensitive subject for all of them, for all the Core’s current woes could be traced back to that singr order to go on the offensive. By redeploying the Reserve Armadas to the front on the overly-zealous assumption that victory was at hand, Coruscant was forced to spread the Home Fleet thin garrisoning all the protesting systems that now missed the protection of the reserve fleets. Despite Admiral Honor leaving behind a small garrison back at Coruscant, it was not enough to prevent the Bulwark Fleet from wreaking havoc.

 “It was… my failure to prevent the Bulwark Fleek breaking out at Foerost,” Captain Jan Dodonna apologised.

 “I thought Commodore Vuld Tansen was inmand at Foerost?” the Admiral asked sharply.

 “He was, sir,” Jan swallowed thickly.

 “I am sure you served with all the expediency he permitted you,” she waved off dismissively, “He’s dead now, anyway.”

 Disintegrated with his gship over Foerost when the Bulwark Fleet attacked.

 “The Fifth Reserve Armada is still in the Core, Admiral,” Captain Screed reminded.

 “I’d imagine they are rather preupied panicking about Empress Teta’s secession,” Admiral Honor vexxed, “By a Separatist fleet travelling through the Deep Core, no less. And now that pit of snakes have reversed course on the whole war, dragging the fleets back to the Core. Do they not realise they are ying straight into the Pantoran’s hands? This is exactly what she wants.”

 Jan looked down, “The Core’s about to be a political bloodbath.”

 “That is no concern of ours,” if Admiral Honor was concerned about the fate of her homeworld, she didn’t show it, “We will focus on putting an end to the Bulwark Fleet first and foremost.”

 Despite being Coruscanti, Honor Salima cared little about the ‘cesspit’ and ‘pit of snakes’ she called home. It had been widely circted on both military and mediaworks that her vicious hunt for the Bulwark Fleet had been borne out of some sort of contrition for a perceived personal failure to protect her ward. Jan thought so too, until he actually met the woman himself.

 Rather than contrition, he rather believed she was fueled by pride. He wasn’t sure if it was for better or worse.

 “How should we reply to the order, sir?” Terrinald questioned.

 “...We will deal with the Perlemian Coalition’s Armada as well,” Admiral Honor decided, “But only if the Home Fleet gets unrestricted ess to all hypene registrars in the Core.”

 “That’s overreaching,” Jan noted hesitantly.

 “If they want me to overreach my fleet,” she retorted cooly, “Then they will give me what I need to overreach. Send it, Captain Screed.”

 “Right away, Admiral.”

 “And Captain Dodonna?”

 Jan straightened, “Sir?”

 “Bring your fleet forward,” the Admiralmanded, “Keep prodding that shield. I want you to tell me where to shoot by the end of the week.”

 “Orders received, Admiral.”

 ?

 Captain Jan Dodonna watched on the holos as Commander Adar Tallon’s fighter-bomber wings ran Skako’s gauntlet for the fourth time that day, shing right against theary shields with a zing flurry of bombs and torpedoes right within the atmospheric purgatory between ck and blue. Prudence’s active scopes watched the ripples in the shield intently, taking in a number of readings and measurements in order to make a rough estimate of the shield sector’s saturation percentage.

 Deflector shields acted on the simple premise of reflecting or absorbing energy–mostly kic and heat, depending on the weapon–and diffusing it throughout its surface area before dispersing it either as natural light and heat loss, or routing it into capacitors in the shield generators, which stores the energy. There were two main ways a deflector shield ‘breaks’. First is if the input of energy overloads the capacitors or melts the heatsinks, shutting down the whole grid until it could be rerouted. This is what usually urs against warships. Againstary shields, however, it is more likely if a certain sector of the shield reaches maximum energy saturation and isn’t able to store any more, creating a ‘hole.’

 Thetter was Admiral Honor Salima’s n for Skako. The disadvantage of such a tactic was that the energy input must be constant and overwhelming–or at least, higher than the energy output rate of the shield at any one time. It was simple enough mathematics.

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 “The results?” Jan asked.

 “I think we can make it, sir,” the sensor officer analysed the results, “If the Skakoans don’t have anything left up their sleeves, that is.”

 “How much will it take to… make it?”

 “A concentrated missile barrage from every Victory we have in the Home Fleet, and then some,” the officer answered, “Keep that up for anywhere from a day to half a week, depending on how Skakoan shield tech works, and we might just punch a hole in that shield.”

 “That sounds…”

 Doable. This is the best case scenario as far asary shields go.

 “...Achievable,” Jan finished, “Keep up the fire. Don’t let them recharge. And send word to–”

 “Captain!” a deck officer jogged up to him, “The Admiral needs you in the Battle Room.”

 “Speak of the Bloodhound,” he muttered, before tugging down on his uniform, “Let’s not keep her waiting.”

 He entered the Battle Room to the awaiting holographic presences of Admiral Honor and Captain Screed. A brisk sharing of salutester, and Jan joined them at therge holotable.

 “I was just about to submit thetest update regarding Skako’s shields, Admiral,” Jan started.

 “Report.”

 “We estimate a prolonged mass torpedo assault should bring down the sector within half a week,” the Captain answered, “Best case scenario suggests a day.”

 Honor Salima raised her chin, narrowing her eyes, “Then it is good news. High Command has also approved our ess to the hypene registrars. With this, we can plot an elementary chart of all Separatist sightings in the Gctic Interior, and start formting a strategy.”

 Terrinald flicked his wrist, and a detailed starchart of the Arrowhead region burst onto the holotable, pulsating red dots marking all reported Separatist Hexes in the Core. A list of GAR reporting names appeared on his right, and Jan realised some of the Seppie ships had appeared enough times the registrars could identify and pin a tag on them, effectively allowing them to track their movements through the Core.

 Except–and this is what made him doubtful–it wasn’t as this iplete list of warships could be tracked in real time. The only difference it made was that the registrars could now plot a history of raids to pin to the ships. Unless… unless Admiral Honor was not intending to track these ships at all. Jan’s lips thinned.

 “Captain Screed, please continue,” Admiral Honor gestured.

 “In our preliminary analysis of the registrar data,” Terrinald began, “We immediately noticed something peculiar about Calli Trilm’s movements.”

 Thin red strings snapped out, looping around the dots and tying them together into aprehensive history of jumps and transits. And Jan almost immediately noticed the peculiarity Terrinald had mentioned. The 19th Mobile Fleet was, cleverly, not sticking to any one major hypene, and rather jumping between hypenes in a zigzag motion. But if you ounted for all the different squadrons and ships…

 Sector searching. Jan Dodonna almost gaped in awe. He had seen the manoeuvre made before, but never on such a… <emrge scale. It was a search and rescue pattern, usually meant to find missing objects or persons stranded in the ck, and centred on a datum point and spanning out to cover a traditionally spherical area, suitable for finding an object in a well-defined location. The search vessel would first set out on a vector dependent on effectively their best guess, then travel the distance the object could have travelled in the time, then make a 60-degree starboard turn and travelling the same distance, before making another 60-degree starboard turn and travelling back to the datum point, creating an equteral triangle.

 The search vessel would continue through the datum point, recreating the series of turns until another equteral triangle was made and it was back at the datum point. The pattern would repeat, ounting for known drift if there was any, until the entire sphere was thoroughly raked.

 “Are the Separatists… searching for something?” Jan asked, not quite able to conceal his surprise, “And if that’s the case, wouldn’t a parallel track or creeping line search pattern be more effective?”

 “I’d imagine a simplistic pattern like the parallel track would have been too obvious,” Terrinald brushed his chin, “With a sector search pattern, they were able to craft the image of an erratic, opportunistic raid pattern. It took thebined data of every hypene registrar in the Arrowhead to piece together the history of raids, in order to discover the pattern. Look here, we were able to trace the pattern of this ship–Bronze Serpent–back to its suspected datum point in or near the Recopi System. I’d wager that’s where she’d stationed her base of operations.”

 Starting there, Jan then traced the pattern back out; Pria, Seyugi, Columus, Thoadeye, Loretto, Samaria, then back to Recopia. Passing through the Recopi System three times, then, moving onto the next datum point. Multiply this pattern by the dozens of squadrons of the 19th Mobile Fleet, and Calli Trilm was effectively raking her forces through the Arrowhead in an apparently random fashion, but not quite upon closer inspection.

 “But… what could she be searching for?” Jan mumbled, beforeing to a realisation, “If not…”

 “Admiral Dua Ningo and the Bulwark Fleet,” Admiral Honor confirmed his suspicions, “The Bulwark-ss battlecruiser is the newest and most powerful warship the Separatists have at their disposal, capable to engaging multiple Victorys and even a Tector toe-to-toe and potentially emerge victorious. The Pantoran likely requires the Bulwarks in her hands, and that is the true purpose of this invasion, beyond the raids.”

 Jan Dodonna swiftly clued in on the Bloodhound’s n, “We intend on using the Bulwark Fleet to bait Calli Trilm into concentrating her forces.”

 Admiral Honor smiled like a hound catching the scent of blood, “Precisely. All we have to do is choose a suitable battlespace.”

 This time, it was Terrinald’s turn to look at his g officer in surprise, “Why not here at Skako, sir? We’ll be dragging Calli Trilm even deeper into the Interior.”

 “Bait needs to be believable, Captain Screed,” Admiral Honor admonished, “It’s a shame we won’t be able to destroy the Bulwark Fleet here, but it will be in the service of hunting an even bigger fish. We’ll smoke the Bulwark Fleet out, and shepherd them to our battlespace of choice, catching Trilm’s attention as we do so. She’ll expect a major fleet engagement, and concentrate her forces together with Dua Ningo. They will create their own trap, and their own deaths.”

 “Very good, sir,” Captain Dodonna gathered his wits, “But how will we draw out the Bulwark Fleet?”

 “Were you not listening, Captain?” Admiral Honor Salima raised an eyebrow, “We’re going to smoke them out.”

 Jan Dodonna’s stomach dropped. Orbital bombardment. He knew it was the only natural solution, somewhere deep within him, but the thought still pained him deeply.

 Captain Terrinald Screed grinned, a truly terrific visage with his mechatronic eye, “We will be avenging Eriadu. We will be avenging Commenor; your homeworld, Jan.”

 Not like this. Never like this. Commenor wasn’t even harmed; the explosions all urred in the upper atmosphere, on the edge of space! But Honor Salima was hismanding officer, and while Jan Dodonna didn’t consider himself particrly brave, he was nothing if not dutiful. Admiral Honor captured his gaze, her hawkish eyes searching for any signs of weakness. The Commenori showed nothing but a resolute stare. Her lips curled.

 “The moment those shields drop,” Captain Dodonna said slowly, meaningfully, “Skako willy waste to us with their surface-to-orbit batteries.”

 “They won’t get the chance,” replied the Admiral coldly, “Paint the target, Captain Dodonna.”

 He saluted, and internally cursed himself for it, “Very well. Orders received, Admiral.”

 If there is a silver lining, Jan thought bitterly as Prudence painted the shield sector for the Home Fleet, it would be that we wouldn''t be razing all of Skako. The Skakoans were well aware of their homeworld’s atmospheric trait, and in all of their technological might, spent every waking hour preparing for specifically such an asion. Theary shield grid of Skako was designed as a multitude of ovepping atmospheric containment domes that, from orbit, appeared like one unified surface. But in truth, their ary shield’ actually divided up their surface into hundreds if not thousands of individual blocks and divisions. The death toll would only be a billion or so, not hundreds of billions.

 What damnable constion that is.

 “All ships,” Honor Salima’s authoritative voice boomed, “Siege formation! Load proton torpedoes and open fire upon mymand!”

 Jan could only watch as Arlionne took her ce at the head of almost a hundred pocket battleships, arranged in a static conical formation that allowed every ship to present their full forward firing envelope at the painted section of the shield. He held his breath as time seemed to stand still. Then–

 A solid pir of violet fire and smoke rained down on Skako like the infernal roar of a sr dragon’s breath. The pir of energy smashed straight into the target, and the shield seemed to buckle before his eyes, despite knowing energy shields could not do such a thing. But it held, and despite the climactic initial assault, the Home Fleet continued firing. Relentlessly.

 What am I looking at? Jan Dodonna asked himself as even more overly-eager warships moved closely to take their own potshots with torpedoes and turbser batteries. Eight-hundred missiles every thirty-five seconds, he thought, the average rate of fire of a Victory-ss missile tube.

 It took forty-six standard hours for Prudence’s finely calibrated scopes to discover a hole in the shield section. And upon the report of his sensor officer, the Captain of the Prudence struggled with the decision to inform hismanding officer of its existence. But if he didn’t–what then? The Home Fleet would just continue pounding away until the entire shield section overloaded, increasing the damage dealt.

 Jan Dodonna released a sigh, “Let’s get this over with.”

 ?

 Fleet gship Arlionne was teeming with activity. Prudence just reported the discovery of a breach, tiny and fleeting as it was, and the gunnery chiefs were scrambling to switch out the warheads for thermobaric ones.

 Admiral Honor Salima stood proudly over the pilothouse of the Arlionne, as fire and thunder ran rampant across the viewports. Arlionne had halted fire now, in order to better focus her fire control. The target? A tiny–no more than a couple klicks in diameter–hole directly above theside shipyard harbouring the Bulwark Fleet, currently being painted by the Prudence. But there was no knowing if the hole would disappear, even as the Home Fleet concentrated its fire, so they must be swift.

 And so, themand deck was abuzz with controlled chaos. Officers barked orders, screens flickered with sensor data, and the low hum of the ship''s massive reactor thrummed through the bones of every soul aboard. Admiral Honor stood at the centre of the whirlwind, wrapped in the austere garb of authority. Her crew were a bunch of no longer so inexperienced rich boys and girls far away from the safety of their ns and families, and this would be their first siege.

 “Vacuum missiles have been loaded, Admiral,” g Captain Terrinald Screed reported, his many battles have beaten the hesitance out of him along with his eye, “We have a firing solution.”

 “My fears about Jan Dodonna were unfounded,” Honor’s voice was a cier scraping across a frozen sea, “You were correct.”

 Screed smiled ndly, “We have a history. His conscience weighs heavily, but he is… dutiful.”

 “That’s all I require.”

 Hands flew over controls, confirming targets, ounting for atmospheric interference, finalising trajectories. In the void, Arlionne’s missile bays once again yawned open, dull red warheads signifying the change in payload. Vacuum warheads, designed to ignite the very air itself and burn a vacuum in its ce, and for a methane-rich world like Skako… specially engineered to exploit the trace oxidizers in theary atmosphere.

 “Open fire.”

 There was no ceremony or fanfare or even weight to her words. It was just anothermand. Swift and sharp like an executioner’s axe.

 With a shudder that resonated through the hull, the missilesunched, streaking towards the below, outer shells glowing with the friction of re-entry as they plunged into hazy blue skies. Terrinald Screed impassively watched the disy, as dozens of missiles crashed into the outer edges of the aperture, blooming out in great, but short lived congrations, briefly blinding the scopes. But some made the insertion, and that’s all they needed.

 In the high pressure depths off theary surface, all it took was a blinding sh, a nova of searing light and scorching heat, visible through all the atmosphere and shields and relentless firing. The warheads detonated, their payloads igniting the methane, oxidising warheads turning the entire sky into a canvas of roaring fire. The Home Fleet paused, frozen, transfixed.

 On the surface, the apocalypse came swift and painless. The ground buckled and heaved, the air itself bing a weapon as a crushing wave of overpressure that pulverised everything in its path. Buildings crumbled, what little flora there was spontaneouslybusted, and flesh was rendered to ash in an instant. From the surface, it must’ve seemed like the entire world had be a hellscape of fire and thunder.

 But from orbit, such a description couldn’t be further from the truth. The ming atmosphere was just that; mes. Andary shields were designed to withstand much more than that. The inferno was boxed in by the ovepping deflector shells, curling up against the shields like screaming souls trying to escape an urn. And so, there was only one ce left for the fires to go: up.

 “Shields, forward,” Admiral Honor ordered calmly. It was unlikely the mes would reach them, but there was no reason not to be careful.

 Skako spat out the inferno, a colossal tongue of me not unlike a miniature sr re bursting through the weakened shields above. Without fuel or oxidiser to burn, however, the re swiftly died out in the void. Energy washed over the fleet, their deflectors bristling as if prickles of gooseflesh hade over them.

 “Prepare for ship-to-shipbat,” the Admiral ordered, watching intently for any action from the Bulwark Fleet.

 A great shadow moved within the me, and Honor’s eyes gleamed like a hawk having found its catch.

 “Retrothrusters!” she ordered with a sh, “Allow the Bulwark Fleet to pass!”

 Dua Ningo’s gship, the battlecruiser Unrepentant, burst out of the inferno first, followed by his Bulwark Fleet, turbsers zing. The Home Fleet returned fire with all its might, its lines ttening and buckling before the Bulwarks'' brutal assault. Captain Screed skillfully manoeuvred the battle line to break without taking too heavy a loss, effectively allowing Dua Ningo to believe he managed to break through the siege lines.

 But losses were unavoidable. One, two, three Victorys disappeared off the scopes. Then did escorts, and even two Venators in the rear line. Admiral Honor watched as the enemy’s battered hulls dashed past her viewports, and smiled in satisfaction.

 “Mission aplished, Admiral,” Captain Screed reported, ignoring the glow of Skako’s bonfire flushed against his skin, “The Bulwark Fleet is once again on the run. Where will we chase them to?”

 “I’ve not yet decided,” Admiral Honor Salima mused as she observed the Bulwark Fleet emergency jumping away, “We’ll observe the situation.”

 “One must always consider the end goal, sir,” the g Captain pointed out.

 “It’s not the prize to take pleasure in, Captain Screed,” Honor Salima turned back to Skako, her irises bathed in a golden light, “It’s the hunt.”

 Shadows descended upon Skako; hundreds of thousands of dropships and personnel carriers descending into the cauldron of fires below, filled to the brim with millions of armoured troopers and marines, specially equipped to fight in a worldpletely hostile and alien. The air was thick with ash and the stench of burning sulphides, but it would pass. Soon, the remaining halogens in the atmosphere would burn out, and the fires would end. After nearly two years of constant bombardment, the Invasion of Skako has finally begun.

AliNovel

Chapter 65