The Janus is thought to be a one-of-a-kind ship, either converted from the remnants of a Rendilli Stardrive Assault Frigate Mk.II, or perhaps merely inspired by the design. The ship was gifted to Commadore Lylent by the captain of the Sparrowhawk for 'meritorious service to the cause'. The circumstances themselves could hardly have been more peculiar; the Janus sports no identifying marks that would indicate as to its place of construction and internal specifications have led to some speculation that the keel must have been laid down before the Assault Frigate Mk.II entered widespread production. Despite its apparent age, it has no blast marks or carbon scoring that would indicate previous military service. The ship is something of a mystery to its crew and to local Imperial sources alike.

The Janus measures 1,100 meters from fore to aft, far outstripping the 700m length of a standard Rendilli Assault Frigate Mk.II in terms of length and displacement. At the time of its arrival in 14:03:11, it was the largest and heaviest warship in the Ceknell subsector. The Janus maintains the same manoeuvrability and top speeds as the Rendilli frigate, a slightly lower compliment of starfighters given its inefficient ventral hangar, and an oversized engineering compartment. Owing to its size, the Janus requires approximately 2,710 crew to operate at minimum capacity and more than 7,200 to maintain optimal standards; it is a decidedly larger crew compliment than the Mk.I or Mk.II Assault Frigate designs and slightly more than a Victory-class Star Destroyer.

One peculiar design not found on other contemporary vessels is that of the Triumph-pattern heavy tubolaser. The Triumph features 2 rows of staggered heavy turbolasers with off-set targeting apertures slaved to a single firing solution, a peculiar but common feature on most of the emplacements aboard the Janus . The Triumph's 5 barrels are fired in sequence with some overlap to produce a substantially longer turbolaser bolt, capable of overwhelming even redundant shielding. Each of the Triumph barbettes are capped with a point defence dual heavy laser cannon system. It has triplicate banks of slaved turbolasers with a firing interrupter set to fire in 3 shot volleys. When itemized, the Janus has an equivalent of 24 triple-heavy turbolaser batteries in addition to its Triumph batteries, but a somewhat reduced compliment of 4 dual heavy laser cannons and a pair of bridge mounted cannons. This 'big guns' approach makes it a powerful and dangerous warship, though it lacks sufficient starfighter deterrents aside from its own compliment of attack craft.

There's little known about the Janus' s operational history, but it is suspected to be a prototype of an alternate Dreadnaught-Heavy Cruiser design that was mothballed and subsequently recovered by the Sparrowhawk . As of yet, there are no other known predecessors or successors for it to be considered a class of warship on its own, though the name Janus-class heavy cruiser has already been entered in several Imperial reports to Sujimis sector command.

++Begin Transcript: 14:03:11++

“ Sir, renegade flagship straight ahead at six clicks out! She's venting atmosphere and her engine core is spiking!”

“ Thank the Emperor, we've got him now! Attention all ships, Fleet Captain Hackett here: break contact with any enemy vessel and concentrate all fire on the Pel Mondarr .”

“ Coming up on five and a half clicks; our forward weapons will be in range in moments, Captain.”

“ Good. Have all gunnery teams calculate firing solutions. I will not give up that ship gentlemen. I told you we crippled her on the first pass, and now I'm going to finish her off.”

“ Sir, Captain Annagim of the VSD Stalwart is asking for order confirmation. They've damaged an enemy corvette and he wishes to finish it off before it can escape. GSD Valiant requesting permission to disengage due to extensive structural damage.”

“ Are they questioning my orders! Attack. I won't let the Pel Mondarr escape. If Kassik can't do it, I will. Attack at flank speed, or I'll have their hides!”

“ Confir-Sir! Contact! Three clicks astern of the Stalwart , unknown vessel of unknown class, bearing zero six-zero plus nine.”

“ How did it get there?! Ensign?”

“ It exited hyperspace in our baffles, sensors didn't pick her up until now. Eleven-hundred meters, she's a second-rate ship, sir.”

“ Heavier than us... me, they're after me...”

“ Captain, it seems they're targeting the Stalwa -”

“ Break off!”

“ Captain!?”

“ Disengage, they'll blow us to pieces. It's a trap you moron!”

“ Sir, with all due respect: we can engage that ship long enough to draw her off the Stalwart' s stern so Annagim can reposition, and the Valiant might not last long enough to make the ju-”

“ To hell with the Yenkurran trash, engage hyperspace motivators and prepare for emergency translation!”

“ ...Sir.”

+++End Transcript: Ref. 3612.03A, VSD Pegasus bridge recorder. +++

K laxons sounded all over the ship, blotting out the bellowed commands of Imperial officers as crewmen scurried to their stations. First Lieutenant Stygian stalked forward, back straight and arms folded behind his back; it stopped the slight shake that the wailing alarms always seemed to cause. Rubbing his wrists and concealing the shudder from the other ratings and officers of the Dauntless, he had to consciously keep his measured pace to avoid breaking into a run to reach the bridge.

“All crew to their stations. Level five emergency departure; this is not an exercise.” the feminine voice of the automated warning system echoed coldly through the crowded corridors. The impersonal tone was an ever present reminder that, live or die, the voice of discipline and composure was the fine line that maintained order amidst chaos.

The ruddy cheeked officer approached the monolithic blast doors leading to the bridge, its two immobile fleet troopers clasping their blasters to their chests in salute. With a yawning growl, the doors slid open, permitting the officer to the nerve centre of the Gladiator. It was already a hive of activity as dozens of bridge officers scurried down among the command pits while officers of the watch strode the raised gantries on the observation deck.

“Officer on the bridge!” one of the troopers called before the blast door closed with a pneumatic hiss. Stygian fixed his gaze on the empty command dais at the very front and centre of the observation deck. Captain Marsstak was nowhere to be seen.

Stygian rose and fell on the balls of his feet, quickly scanning the panorama bridge in the vain hope of catching a glimpse of his commander. The whole deck rocked beneath his feet as the main sublight engines kicked in.

A squeal of static cascaded over the silence, “This is fleet commander Hackett: take the Dauntless and follow my lead. You will not break formation, Hackett out.”

“Yes, sir...” Stygian homed in on his captain's voice, “Fop.” She sighed heavily, having descended into the crew pit to personally inspect a sensor console, leaning over the young officer's shoulder, face aglow from hololithic glyphs and trickling green strings of data.

“Captain!” Stygian wove past two officers of the watch and circled the far side towards the command dais in front of the three massive view ports. She turned but didn't ascend from among the crew. “I've a personal message from Admiral Kassik.” Stygian unclipped one of the data cylinders from his tunic and held if aloft.

Marsstak sighed and stretched her back before quickly climbing one of the recessed ladders back onto the observation deck. “Where is he? We haven't heard a word from him in over a week.”

“I'm sorry to say, Ma'am, but the fleet has been getting orders. Regularly, in fact..” Stygian handed her the silver cylinder the moment she crested the lip of the stairs. He offered a hand which she pointedly ignored. It was a familiar gesture, and a lost one on her.

“Come again, Lieutenant?” The captain blinked and narrowed her eyes at him.

He stiffened his spine and snapped to attention, “Admiral Kassik had given orders-”

“Orders.” Marsstak grumbled and looked out the window into the void. “Come to new heading, one-four-one, nineteen degrees downplane, full speed.”

First Lieutenant Stygian opened his mouth but was cut off by the helmsmen, “Ma'am, won't that take us in front of the Pegasus ?”

There was an almost vague blank before she turned back to her lieutenant, “Kassik, where is he?”

“Sector command, trying to get his hands on more ships. He's been relaying orders and reports, but they never made it past Hackett. Kassik wants you to take over command here in the sub-sector until his return. It will be official as soon as you can transmit a full situation report to him aboard the Event Horizon .” He remained awkwardly quiet.

“Hackett has seen this, hasn't he?”

The lieutenant nodded, “It was relayed through the Pegasus 's decoders. All long range communication must, by order-”

“Be relayed through the subsector command ship. I know. We'll deal with this later.” She crossed over to her command dais and collapsed back into the cushioned seat. Stygian took up his spot as adjutant, hands once more behind his back as he stared into the open expanse.

The Pegasus yawed in front of them, its engines thrumming through the external audio amps. It had increased to flank speed to keep the Dauntless trailing on its port side. Clusters of TIEs swarmed over its blue-tinted hull like insects skating over a sheet of ice.

Up ahead, four sparks glowed like slowly plummeting stars streaking across the inky canvas. “This is a job for a ship of a line.” Marsstak grumbled and brought up the hololithic display. She briefly inspected each of the five large glyphs before taking a fleeting look at the other lesser icons. “The Mockingbird , the Grim Resolve , the Pel Mondarr , and that mystery ship.”

“One corvette, two frigates and a battle cruiser.” Stygium mused aloud, “Two-to-one odds in ships, but their fighters can't match our own. Not with both the Tibanna Bats and the Lawbringers here.” It received a taciturn nod from the captain.

“Orders captain?” one of the officers of the watch enquired.

It was summarily dismissed with an irritated flick of her hand, pointing at the Star Destroyer on their starboard side. “Follow the leader.” she spotted a small field of winking silver specks. “Hmm, but around that refuse dump site, if you wouldn't mind. I'll have you cleaning it all up in port if you take us into it. Oh, and standby to throttle up our sublights.”

The small specks of light ahead of them seemed to slowly drift apart, forming a pair of pincers which skirted the Imperial contingent. “They're not...” Marsstak's face lit up as she looked back at Stygian. “Tell me they aren't ...”

“Frigates in one element, that cruiser and an escort corvette in a separate contingent?” The adjutant grinned, but it soon faded. “Hackett.”

The mention of the erstwhile fleet commander's name wiped that grin from Marstaak's face. Her eyes narrowed on the pair of vessels at the extreme left of the viewport as the first pinpricks of laser cannon fire streaked across the void. A flight of TIE advanced raced across the Gladiator's bow as a unit of Lawbringer bombers kept pace.

“Forget that cruiser and corvette for now. Targets of opportunity. Those frigates will have to swing around and try to flank us, let's get them first. All ahead, flank speed and hard to starboard! If Hackett wants to be admiral, he'll have to keep up.” She stamped her foot down, as if slamming on a pedal.

The reverberation of acknowledgement and the throaty hum of the Gladiator's whining powerplant was a more comforting sensation to Stygian. As was Hackett's static hiss, “Marsstak!? What are you doing? Stay in formation, **** you!”

Hornet like sparks shimmered in front of them for a few moments, “Fighters, coming in!” The sensor officer's warning came only moments before a wave of renegade snubfighters washed over the bow of the Gladiator. Torpedoes and laser cannons raked the hull sending tides of liquid fire spreading over the stark gunmetal. In its wake, blue rippling currents washed across the afflicted area. The shield held as the high pitched howl of Incom engines screamed only a dozen meters from the hull.

“Let the Bats have their fun, forget those X-wings!” Marsstak shouted. Stygian glanced her way, but the captain was leaned forward and watching the pair of serpentine frigates towards which the Dauntless heedlessly hurtled. A shark-like form and an accompanying minnow swept out of sight. The former of which lashed out with a barrage of heavy turbolaser fire, rocking the Gladiator.

Emergency icons flashed across the bridge amidst a howl of protesting alarms, “Ma'am,” a sub-officer cried from the crew pits, “we've lost our rear deflector shields!”

“Take evasive action, but try to keep those frigate's aligned!” Marsstak bellowed as the vessel began to yaw. A single lance of bright white fire raced by and disappeared into the darkness. The crackle of static didn't subside for a few uncomfortable moments. Even before the deck had stopped shaking, the captain sprang to her feet, “Concentrate all firepower on the Pel Mondarr ! ” She pointed out the window at the grey frigate with the long red streak, just skating past their bow. “Make her bleed!”

The half-dozen dorsal turrets ponderously rotated and fired, one after another. Bright emerald beams cut through the dark space between ships, revealing rippling sapphire pools.

“Cut the engines! Hard to starboard; don't break formation, but I still want that frigate!” The trailing salvo of missiles stretched out like little candles in the darkness. It was silent for a few moments, before a cataclysmic explosion shook the Pel Mondarr, ripping identifiable alabaster plates from its hull and flinging them off on wings of fire and boiling plasma. The assault concussion missiles struck home and the turbolasers etched more craggy scars in the mauled ship. As the Pegasus sluggishly yawed, trading turbolaser fire with the other frigate at point blank range, the Pel Mondarr tumbled out of control. The few remaining windows flickered and died, one after another, leaving only a smoking husk.

The sensor officer looked at his console and glanced back her way, “Captain, the Pel Mondarr lost all power. Fires are raging across most of her engineering section and she's holed on at least twelve decks! The keel's about the only thing intact!”

There was a static hiss from the shipboard communication systems. “Gunnery chief Samsoll,” the voice identified itself, “Assault concussion missiles reloaded. Should we finish her off, ma'am?”

The captain smirked and waved a hand, holding any remaining volleys against the ruined ship. “She's already dead, no need flogging a dead mynok. Besides, there's still things we can salvage-”

The ship suddenly shuddered as the Pegasus 's flank then enormous engines roared into view. Marsstak's flurry of curses was drowned out by the roar of the Victory's engines on maximum power, washing radiation over the Gladiator's bow.

“She's gonna hit!” The helmsmen warned.

“Full retrothrusters, fire, now ! Emergency, fifteen degrees up-plane!” Marsstak's shouts barely broke the roar of the blinding engines. Even the viewscreen was overpowered in a haze cast by three pure white dots on a black background. The ship quickly heeled over and up, pointing the Star Destroyer's thrusters below her hull and washing downwards rather than across the bridge. They had come within meters of colliding.

“**** that Hackett!” An watch officers muttered, “he'll get us all killed.” Even as the curse left his lips, a hissing scream howled by overhead. An A-wing banked hard, unloading a pair of missiles into the stern of the Pegasus , pitting its shields, just before a pair of TIE advanced hissed across the Gladiator's bow in pursuit of the nimble fighter. The Pegasus had brought the snubfighter war right to them.

Most of the short wave communication were a jumbled mess of fighter pilots, screams and the almost detached tone of flight controllers trying to instill order amidst the chaos. A few stray A-wings broke away from the TIEs, running the gambit of laser cannons from a Lawbringer bomber squadron, though the brace of fire sent one craft spinning out of control. It shed parts before bursting into an expanding cloud of fire and fragments that pattered across the Dauntless' s durasteel hide like rain.

“Ma'am,” Stygian took a data slate from an officer of the watch and quickly transferred a few items to the captain's command seat. “the Pel Mondarr is wrecked, but the other elements of the renegade fleet slipped by and circled back. Their frigate dove under the Pegasus 's main guns-”

“Marsstak,” Hackett's voice boomed over the clear short-wave communicator, “break from formation and engage the enemy flagship.”

A silence pervaded the bridge for five agonizingly long seconds. “Hackett?” Marsstak queried aloud, “This isn't some kind of joke. Our shied capacitors aren't recharged or even fully cycled, and we're down to a third of our munitions thanks to resupply-”

“This isn't open to debate, captain. You will take the Dauntless and pursue the enemy. They tried to crush us with a pincer and failed, now they are divided and we will destroy them in detail. Hackett out.” With an abrupt huff, the line went dead, leaving no room for remark or retort.

Marsstak slumped into her chair and bit her lip. “Full speed and hard to starboard. Keep level. Comms officer, get me engineering.” she muttered with an uncommonly distant mien.

There was a sharp hiss, “Engineerin'” the Corellian cant came across clear amidst the throbbing whirl of the generators pulsing in the background.

“Wulken, redirect all energy to our shield capacitors.”

A scoffing snort heralded his response, “No can do cap'n. Cooling distilleries are white hot from keeping the main reactor feeding the ionizers. If we redirect any power from the distillers, we're gonna' short out or the thruster chambers are going to rupture. Either way, we'll be dealing with a meltdown. Sorry cap'n. If you really want it, I'll do it, and you can get out and push her back Port Eikron.” If they had more warning, then it wouldn't have been a problem. Kassik always gave them ample time to switch over their already overworked engineering corp.

There was no reply aside from a frustrated hiss as the ship captain stood up and paced back and forth across the observation deck. It persisted for an uncomfortable length of time as the flashes of light and distant echoes of dying pilots faded into the background noise among the cadence of beeps and hushed whispers.

“Lieutenant,” Marsstak turned quite suddenly, surprising Stygian who took a half step back and tugged on the edges of his tunic. “Head down to the forward port gunnery post. Make sure your communicator is on and do exactly as I say. We may have one shot at taking out, or at least crippling that cruiser, then slipping away. Tell Samsoll to reset the torpedo proximity fuses for ten meters. Every single one needs to go off and we can't afford to miss on something that big.”

Stygian nodded and turned on his heel. It was a stiff but quick walk to the blastdoors, but the moment they closed behind him, Stygian found himself straining against the impulse to run. It was undignified, it was unsightly, but as the ship was rocked by another impact, the restraint collapsed. Stygian took flight and hurried towards the turbo lift. Skidding to a halt, he pressed his palm to the control pad, “Gunnery level!”

There was a deceptively pleasant chime, “munitions, gunnery and technical maintenance level: next.” the impassive ship's voice echoed before the whole lift dropped like a stone. Those several long seconds stretched out interminably before the doors slid open. Like a racer on the Boonta Eve classic, Stygian tore off down the cramped obsidian hallway in the bowels of the Gladiator.

“Stygian! You should be there by now! What's taking so long.” The ship yawed suddenly, the internal dampeners unable to compensate as some mechanical beast groaned in protest at the sudden manoeuvre.

He approached the large sealed blast doors separating the gunnery position and magazine from the rest of the vessel. “Not yet, I'm just outsi-”

Anything he tried to relate was stolen away amid the hellish cacophony of clacking mechanical loaders and the heart-like rhythm of tibanna gas pumps filtering fuel to the turbolaser batteries above.

“First Lieutenant!” A booming voice echoed over the mechanical wail. A solitary black-clad figure waved from the sub-deck, weaving past the turbolaser turrets pointing out from the shielded gun ports. The brute of a man picked his way over tangles of feeder lines and ducked under the enormous servo arms loading cylinders of concussion missiles onto their launchers. “Figured you'd be down here eventually, sir!” he stood in front of the spiral staircase of corrugated metal and snapped a quick salute up at the officer.

“Chief Samsoll.” Stygian returned the gesture quickly and descended into the penumbral darkness of the forward gunnery pits. He pointed at the newly loaded racks of concussion missiles. “Disarm the safety triggers and reset for ten meters.”

The brutish man's brow raised at that, “You're serious, aren't you? I...” he took one look at the officer and nodded, “yes sir.”

Samsoll turned and snapped his fingers before hollering over the din, “Ordnance teams, get those damned things off the launchers and take the safety off! Reset for negative ninety meters and rearm.” He swiftly ambled towards one of the massive conveyances, patting the barrel of a quad cannon as he passed. Dozens of black glad gunnery crew scrambled like a human wave towards the massive cylindrical vaults that separated the gunnery deck from the magazines.

Stygian spied out the one raised pulpit emitting a blue glow in the dank depths of the Dauntless . The gunnery chief's position had readouts of every gun battery on the ship, the port bow station was merely a convenient position at the leading edge of the attack. “Stygian,” he tapped the com-link, “Captain we've got everything under control, weapons being reset and rearmed.”

“Good,” Marsstak's voice sounded insignificant compared to the deafening clamour around him. “We've already started our attack run.”

“It's just us?” he paused

“Just us. Their corvette broke off to engage the Pegasus with that other frigate. We're counting on you Stygian. We have no room for error!” With a final static crackle, she was gone.

“Contact, seven point five out and closing awfully fast!” One of the spotters called from an observation post on the gantries far above them. The warning had the officer searching for the foe. As soon as the Dauntless rolled a few more degrees, he saw the Janus .

The shark like cruiser dwarfed even the victory by several hundred meters, and was even larger in draft. The blue haze of its engines looked like a small sun silhouetting her predatory lines. The Dauntless was an impressive strike frigate, even comparing favourably with most light cruisers; but the Janus was a battlecruiser well outside of their class. They had one chance to take her down or make her break off.

There was a sudden flash in the distance followed by the spotter's cry, “Brace for evasive action!” The world seemed to spin as the deck swayed and the klaxons rang from the catwalks in the gunnery chamber.

Stygian's hands started to shake as the Dauntless was bracketed by long range fire. Kilometre long red beams lanced past, a few sizzling dangerously close while dozens of lesser bolts impacted off their shields. The ship shook and rattled beneath him, “Brace!” One of the powerful lances struck home, jolting the entirety of the ship back with an ear shattering groan of twisting plates and straining beams. Stygian was lifted off his feet and tossed like a rag doll against the pulpit walls.

He slumped to his knees and fought to stay up amidst the chatter of crew. “Look out!” Something loosed a dangerous groan before a deafening crash shook the deck again. When Stygian rose to his feet, the pulpit was illuminated with flashing red icons.

Clutching his bruised ribs, the officer shakily got to his feet and glanced about. Small fires erupted from a severed gas line after one of the massive missile cylinders broke free from its mooring. Two or three pained groans carried over the roar of the fire before one inhuman scream rose above it. A few shaky ordnance crew stood by as Samsoll strained against the enormous cylinder.

“Stand by at action stations! Team chiefs, report!” Stygian shouted over the roar of the pillar of fire stretching up to lick at the ceiling.

Samsoll's voice was the first to emerge from the din, “Lost Kymann and Lotch from ordnance team four. The spanner arm broke and the magazine is wedged open. Call a medical team down here, now! That or hand me that damned pistol!” the pained shriek drowned out everything amid the hellish squeal of gas pumps and clattering pistons. But swiftly, the other reports flooded in:

“Battery two, out of action!”

“Battery six, standing by.”

“Battery four, standing by!”

Stygian glanced out the gunport again. The Janus hovered there, still ahead of them, it was close, and getting closer. The Dauntless had slipped under several of the slaved gundecks and the fire slackened significantly as it rolled to re-acquire the lighter frigate. Slowly, the port side pitched down.

“Wait for it, all crews hold your fire till my mark...” The massive ship was close, a few dozen meters. Its grey skin unblemished, uncalloused by war. It was covered in thick plates, small casements, and armoured viewports the likes of which the lieutenant had never seen. He glanced at his panels. Most of the weapons indicators flashed green, but only half the launchers. 'We're not crippled yet, come on, come on' another of the six flashed from yellow to green. “Steady! Aim for those gunports and that heavy turbolaser array.”

The fifth icon flashed green, “Open fire!”

The air buzzed with static energy as every battery opened up at once. Vibrant red and green bolts spat out at close range amid the hollow thumps of the missile launchers unloading their whole cylinder on the point blank target. The cataclysmic lightshow turned the darkened pits as bright as day as blossoms of fire spread across the Janus 's sides. Wildfires, loosed by the blaze of turbolasers and scores of concussion missiles licked across her shields, spreading sheets of liquid flame over the cruiser's flanks. With an audible sizzle and final thunderclap, the Janus 's shield generators fluctuated then collapsed.

The tiny voice from the communicator squeaked, “Yes! Again, Stygian! Again ! Shoot them to bits!”

Stygian tried to shout but lost his voice in the racket. He resorted to punching new orders into the terminal where it would be fed to each lead gunner. 'CF, inline weapon batteries'.

Missiles and turbolasers stitched across its hull leaving long scars and glowing red plates that buckled and flecked off amid the billowing explosions. Their own gunport shields rippled as debris pelted off the force fields.

With a final whine and clack the launchers ran empty. The barking chatter from the turbolasers left a ringing in Stygian's ears, but only that throbbing ring was left. The barrels glowed red, the muzzle breaks white, as the fire slackened from the Dauntless.

“Did we get them?” a gunner from battery four called over the din. The low rumble of the inferno sounded like a peal of thunder. Slowly, the fire cleared. The Janus slowly listed to starboard, its side covered in gaping holes that vented a cloud of twisted steel that shimmered in the starlight. The gun decks fell silent as the Dauntless began to swerve away from the ship.

Stygian squinted and started to nod, “We might have knocked out their port g-” the Janus 's single massive turret turned to point directly at his pulpit, then corrected a few degrees. “ Brace! Brace for impa-”

With a distinct thrum and a blinding white flash, the Janus 's lance carved straight through the gun port's shielding and struck the open magazine. Stygian's warning never left his mouth. Dozens of concussion missiles cooked off, engulfing the gundeck in a raging inferno that blotted out his existence in the blink of an eye.

…

C ommodore Lylent tapped the arm of his chair as he watched the Gladiator try to dive beneath his guns. He'd held his trump card until the end, and the Dauntless played right into it. The Gladiator lurched to the side, speared through-and-through as its armoured plates buckled from the rippling inferno eating the ship from within. Tongues of flame licked from its hangar bays and portholes before a secondary explosion sheered the vessel in half. The shockwave sent a spray of molten metal spattering across his shield's re-energizing layers.

The Dauntless disappeared in the massive conflagration. There were no escape pods, no shuttles, it disintegrated before his eyes. But by then he was more interested in the other glyphs that flashed on his console.

“Lord.” his shadowy Ashtek bodyguard interjected, “Our fighters have destroyed more than eighty percent of the Imperial fighter screen, but a few squadrons got through and disabled the Grim Resolve .”

“A shame, that fireship would have been perfect against the dockyard's outer defences. Hmm, do you think they sent a frigate to kill us? Or was it that they sent a frigate out for us to kill?”

Sencha looked up and over, gesturing for a data slate before picking off one or two things. “Long range scanners indicate that the Imperial Victory-class is closing on the Sparrowhawk and isn't recalling its fighters. It seems content to fight.”

“Isn't that Hackett's newly purloined ship?” Lylent smirked. “No Senche, it's finding an angle to slip away. If it recalls its fighters, then ours will have free reign. If it can break the Sparrowhawk then it can escape easily.” He scratched at the scar on his cheek.

“Orders?”

Lylent looked over and hummed, “Recall our fighters. We might be able to take out that destroyer, but we can't make it past the fort's defence grids alone. Signal the recall, today is theirs... lets see how they fight over the scraps. Oh, schedule a team to come back for the Pel Mondarr. I think I left a few things in my cabin. I'd hate to have some idiot like Hackett getting his hands on any 'war trophy' of mine.”

Lylent stood and stretched before circling around the command seat and towards the lift. “Oh, and dispatch the other rescue ships to recover what crew you can. The bridge is yours, Senche.”

...

Player's note: I played the rebels this time out. I can always work up a few diagrams if anyone would like, and I even had one picture that showed how blasted close the Gladiator and Victory were to colliding (it was impressive). The mission was Superior Positions while the campaign secondary objective were:

Rebel: Extended Tour. The pair of Nebulons both were selected, the Sparrowhawk took a hit and the Yavaris received a critical with Faulty Countermeasures.

Imperial: All Ahead Full.

The dice rolling wasn't bad, but my rebel fighters just wouldn't die despite 2:1 odds. That said, a Tie bomber and a Tie fighter got the final kill of the game, 2 rear shots on the CR90 which did juuuuust enough damage to kill it. Worse yet, it netted my opponent 2 VP towards the main objective, so in the last turn I foolishly decided the squadrons weren't a threat as I pounded the Pegasus , and I gave up 74 flippin' points because of it! I crippled the Pegasus and ended with the Janus slightly above that line, so I completed my Extended Tour and my opponent couldn't quite pull off All Ahead Full.

The Imperials chose some odd long-range pot shots, but more than that, they spread their squadrons out like landmines so that if I cut across the centre and tried to rejoin my forces (which I did) it opened them up for more advantageous fighter re-placement. So while his fighters were sacrificed in points, he racked up 7 victory tokens, almost exclusively because of that, while my fighters only racked up 1 out of 4 tokens. couldn't get any good attack vectors (but 1) and I ended up with only 4 but racked up an impressive amount of victory points while simultaneously sacrificing their fighters. Well, it sure worked well this time.

Final score: Imperials 113+105=218 Rebels 112+60. A traditional 6-4 Imperial victory. But modified for Ceknell: the Imperials gain +1 and the rebels -1, so it becomes a 6-4 Rebel victory.

The Shrike is a modified Rendili Mk.II assault frigate built under contract by local shipyards in the Ebastion nebula. While many of the frames and weapon systems are identical to stock inventory for the rebel Assault frigate Mk.IIB, the efficient Rendili drivecore was beyond the technical capabilities of the local system to produce in secret. To fit the bulky inefficient engines to existing frame, additional mounting brackets and an expanded aft assembly had to be fitted to the existing keel. Inevitably, this led to production delays.

It was originally designed to act as the Lions of Korrell flagship, but couldn't be delivered before the start of hostilities. With Commodore Lylent's fleet in tatters after the abortive attack on Fort Respite, the arrival of the Shrike was a much-needed combat boost to Lions . The vessel nominally operates under the command of Captain Reylias, a veteran soldier in the Vendre sector defence fleet, and one of the few direct connections to the ruling Vendre houses. Reylias's reputation as a competent line commander has cemented his place as a ship captain with little hope to advance under Lylent. If there is any animosity due to this decision, it isn't evident: Reylias quickly took a leading role in the training and protection of the mauled Korrelli Red group and forms an anchor to Lylent's battle lines.

With two medium class warships and a number of frigates spotted in transit to the region, Imperial sector authorities are bound to take notice.

After the Pyrrhic victory inflicted upon Commodore Lylent's by Ceknell's remaining Imperial forces at the battle of Eikron straits, the sector authority had no choice but to acquiesce to admiral Kassik's requests for reinforcements. The appearance of anti-government forces not only daring, but capable of attacking and defeating a considerable Imperial presence in a pitched battle was considered far-fetched just a month before.

The loss of the Dauntless neutered the capacity of the Ceknell authority to police and control the valuable shipping and mining operations not only at the far-flung edges of the sub-sector, but along its most heavily trafficked hyperspace lanes. There was simply not enough vessels of any type capable of patrolling the Far Reach, the Callipsean Corridor and the Lentarra Corridor simultaneously.

The arrival of the 1134 ^th Light Patrol squadron from Alembec was fortuitous to the Imperial forces of Ceknell. Under Rear Admiral Perch, the five ships of the 1134 ^th Light Patrol “Phantom” Squadron has more than doubled the number of ships in the Ceknell Imperial register The Phantoms are comprised of a lead ship, the Banshee , and four Raider-class corvettes: Waywatcher, Pursuit, Myrmidon, and Warlock. In addition, the 1134 ^th brought a large number of fighter craft to restock and recrew the depleted Ceknell squadrons. The Tibanna Bats have since been seconded to the Phantoms , where their use of hyperspace capable jump-fighters would compliment the swift patrol craft.

All told, the 1134 ^th is now the long reach of the Bleakhawks , and their recognizable dual striped hulls have become a common sight in the Lentarra and Callipsean corridores. However, the systems of the Far Reaches have been all but abandoned to concentrate the still depleted Imperial forces while additional reinforcements are transferred. The Phantoms now claim the shipyards at Jump Point Prime as their home port, while the ravaged heavy squadron of Victory-class destroyers await the arrival of reinforcements at Port Eikron.

The lead ship in the recently transferred 1134 ^th squadron is an aged but fully capable Gladiator II-class star destroyer. While not as illustrious as the heavier ships in the Bleakhawks , the Banshee has more than a decade of service to her credit, acting as an independent vessel under a series of competent captains.

From unidentified alien raids on remote Imperial settlements to pockets of resistance from the Commonwealth of Independent States, the Banshee has seen it all. Her hull bears many scars which the crew cites as marks of honour, and many plates are still stained with age, but the neglected appearance belies the power inherent in the elegant internal workings of a tried and tested workhorse. The Banshee boasts a powerful set of reactor control rods and secondary relays that make her faster and more manoeuvrable than her not insignificant bulk would suggest. The targeting system itself has been overhauled and replaced with secondary sub-cogitators originally designed for the Lancer-class frigate, greatly enhancing its potency against hostile attack craft.

The Banshee is staffed by a veteran crew serving under the capable auspice of Rear Admiral Hydle Perch, a venerable core worlder of some renown. With three decades of exemplary service to his credit, Perch has come out of retirement after teaching at the Corellian Imperial academy for six years. Tasked with the command of the 1134 ^th patrol squadron, the Banshee forms the lynchpin component of an otherwise untested unit. However, the stern, dry humoured disciplinarian is a respectable choice to command the flotilla now tasked with putting down the Ceknell insurgency.

The Waywatcher is a brand new Raider-I class corvette fresh from the shipyards of Sullust. Officially entered into the Alembec 1134 ^th Patrol Squadron in 13:04:03, the entirety of the 1134 ^th were transferred to Ceknell's central fleet authority by evening of the same day. With no formal fleet trials, and a shakedown crew aboard the Waywatcher, as well as the sister ship Pursuit , the entire 1134 ^th set out for Jump Point Prime station.

Thus far, the shakedown crew has discovered no significant structural or engineering failures in the Waywatcher, unlike the Pursuit, which had issues with its converted hangar bay inertial guidance limbs. The Waywatcher is an unblemished exemplar of her class, and armed with the latest in high yield concussion missiles. In conjunction with the rest of the 1134 ^th squadron, the Waywatcher has been immediately dispatched to monitor and suppress local pirate strikes in the now embattled Far Reaches of Ceknell.

Much like the ship itself, the Waywatcher 's captain is newly commissioned. Captain Lief Vener graduated from the command of a VT-49 decimator mere months before taking control of the Waywatcher. He is an impetuous officer, eager for accolades, but has thus far displayed a great sense of appreciation as to the perils of routine patrols. Tours of the Outer Rim territories often impart first hand knowledge as to the dangers of enemy snub fighters on Imperial officers and Vener is no exception; any quest for glory is tempered by an awareness of his vessel's capabilities.