Kuat's Open Orbit

The Dark tide had treated him well since he had decided to come to Kuat. They took the Avenger off his hands and delivered it to the junior lieutenant whom acted as his executive officer. In return for that commission, the Admiral had awarded him command of Lord Sinistra’s flagship. It was a warship that was once used infamously by the New Republic in a bygone era and, one that would be used as the flaming brand against those who stood in the way of her wrath. That thought alone had brought a smile to his lips. As he sat mounted atop the warships command throne, its new captain began mulling over the events of the past day. When he had woken up this morning, he was a renegade imperial officer fleeing the collapse of the once glorious remnants of the Empire. As he would close his eyes this night, he was a Captain in command of one of the most advanced starships in the galaxy. Pride and arrogance flowed freely through his veins as he leaned back further into the padded embrace of his throne. Such power was at his command, the ability to determine who lived and who died. It was exhilarating to say the least. His smile grew ever wider as his gaze fell upon the forward viewscreen. A great curtain of stars hung before him, broken only by the vast girth of the system below. A floating orb of blue and green surrounded by a thick band of metal, Kuat was an impressive symbol of martial and technological prowess. The system had essentially remained the very lifeblood of the Imperial navy throughout the Galactic Civil war and beyond. Now the forges of war burned hot for the Dark Tide, giving them a small empire in the heart of the Galactic Republic.

Rousing himself from the command dais, the Captain moved towards the transparisteel panes before him and placed a hand upon its cool surface. Separated by a thin line of glass, it almost felt cold to the touch. It was devoid of heat, yet did not shock the man with its extreme variance in temperature. Alone and secluded at the very front of the command bridge, Logan was left to his own devices. Acclimatising to the chaos of a vessel that operated outside the imperial norms had proven to be a very long and tedious process. He had reprimanded several officers within the first hour of his reassignment. So far he was not off to a grand start, but this was a new ship that was directly assigned to be the leader of the Dark Tide’s flagship. It needed to run as smoothly and as efficiently as possible. So when his new executive officer came to protest, Logan had calmly directed his irritation elsewhere. He would not have his officers doubting his ability to command the ship, nor would he be removed from command upon the first day of his assignment. With his hazel eyes staring out in the vast expanse of space, his mind began to wander back in time. Thinking of Gideon and the men under his command, of how they were adjusting under this mysterious Lord Walter’s command. Ever since he had pulled the man out of Remnant space, there had been something festering within his heart. Could it have been the failed sense of duty that they all had felt when the news of the Remnants collapse had reached their ears? Even though he had considered the man his closest friend, Logan would never figure out what grew within the man’s soul. Not until it had gripped his body tight and changed him from what he once was. The captain feared such a change might occur within himself as well, twisting him from the inside out until he could no longer recognize the freshly shaven face in the mirror.

Letting a heavy sigh escape his lips, the commander of the Black Caisson removed his hand from the window and freed his mind of such trivial concerns. Gideon was his own man with his own destiny, as his friend Logan believed it was high time that the man be allowed to pursue it without his hindrance. Yet that deed was now reciprocal, as Gideon would no longer question him in the choices he would make as the Captain of this warship. He felt his heart flutter at the idea of being able to shout down insubordinate officers whom challenged his will. Encompassing his lips with a wide smile, the Captain returned to the command dais and took up a proffered dataslate. The thin sheet of glass felt flimsy in his hands, yet was durable enough to endure the stresses of his bony fingers pressing into its surface. Bathed in the portable tablets azure illumination, he fingered through the tactical overlay of the Kuat system. What he had found replaced the fond smile, with a furrowed brow and a heavy frown. The capital world of the Dark tide was relatively defenseless in regards to some of the other layouts he had studied. Should a fleet of Mandalorians come crashing into orbit, they would have a nearly unrestricted shot at the very Estate of the Ten and the souls that languished within. Shaking his head, Logan placed the fragile sheaf of plastic atop the tactical terminal and let the projectors hum into life. This time, the entire section about the tactical display was washed in an emerald light.

Formulated by the beryl lights, the entire Kuati sector appeared before him in microcosm. The brilliant orb of Kuat spun about its axis in the centre of the projection, ringed by the orbital drive yards. Several ships that bore a likeness to the Black Caisson hung just outside the planets gravity well, unmoving and eerily silent. Their designations and service records were referenced above the hololithic representations of the vessels, informing the Captain of Sinistra’s flagship the level of experience he had on hand. Sadly it seemed like many of these commanders had yet to see an engagement that truly tested their mettle. His hazel eyes absorbed the data as he panned the projection about; garnering every single recorded detail about the sector he had found himself in. He studied the avenues of the approach, the stable hyperspace jump points, and estimated blind spots. After the passing of an hour, there was nothing about this sector of space that the Captain did not know. The data was transferred from the ships internal databanks into the plastic slate, so that he would be able to commit the information to memory through a rigorous regime of reading during his morning routine. When that was completed, he called his executive officer over and began throwing ideas back and forth. They began creating theoretical plans that would shape the defenses of the system for decades to come.

“Captain, I don’t think you understand the issue of our economy. We cannot afford to produce several third generation Golans in order to turtle the planet, the costs would be astronomical! Add in the upkeep and transportation fees, you might as well sell the planet to Golan arms.”

Commander Wilhelm Borodin exclaimed. The man had been the acting captain of the vessel before he had watched Captain Aximand move into his place. He would ensure that his duties were done as commanded, but as soon as Logan slipped Wilhelm would be the first to usurp the captaincy from underneath the man.

“You do recall that we are making this a theoretical proposition, yes? I realize no one save the Galactic Empire, before its ruthless shattering, would be able to afford such an outlandish purchase. However to best defend the system we will have to work backwards and determine the best route of action. Thus dropping the count of Golan platforms to two instead of seven should sufficiently suffice in covering the avenues of approach that our vessels cannot cover.”

Logan watched as Wilhelm’s hand came to rest upon the man’s chin. If only he could read mind, then perhaps he would understand what was going through the executive officers head. He already knew that the man loathed him for taking his rightful place as Captain of the vessel, for if Logan were in the man’s shoes he would have felt the same. Thus the Captain had determined to remain vigilant in his actions aboard the vessel, for at any sign of weakness the predator would strike.

“That is a better course of action, Captain. Perhaps we could requisition the drive yards for more vessels to add to the Armada. More ships in orbit beget a lesser statistical chance of any Mandalorian landing parties successfully making it to the surface or to the drive yards.”

Logan could not help but agree with his second’s words, the fewer soldiers that made it to the surface or to the drive yards themselves would increase the likely hood that this enigmatic Lord Walter and his armed forces could repel the sons of Mandalore.

“Aye, I agree. Along with the requisition of new combat capable starships we could request the Dark Tide to produce stealth generators capable of hiding vast expanses of rock. The asteroid belt nearby has several specimens of note that would suit the cause of defense.”

Wilhelm’s face construed into a look of confusion as he tried to figure out the reasoning behind why they would need to cloak several asteroids. Logan saw this change in appearance and let his lips curl into a slight smirk.


“I’m taking a page from the old Imperial playbook, Mister Borodin. In the bygone era of the Galactic Empire’s collapse, Grand Admiral Thrawn blockaded the new republic capital with vast cloaked asteroids. Chaos ensued as vessels of every mark and tonnage collided with these inanimate weapons of war. The man was a genius in the realm of tactics, as he brought the new republic to its knees time and time again. It was only when he was betrayed by one of his closest lieutenants that Thrawn had failed in his campaign against the republic.” He paused to let a smile cross his lips. “It was a shame really, the man would have won in the face of all adversity and single- handedly reclaimed the glory of the Galactic Empire.”

The realization suddenly dawned upon Commander Borodin, as the image of mandalorian warships colliding with several massive asteroids began playing through his mind. “Ah, so you seek to emulate the Grand Admiral’s strategy in our specific theatre?”

Logan nodded, assured that Lord Sinistra would see the reason behind such a hefty expense. “I do. The foe we shall be facing will be unlike anything any of us have encountered before. I know there are some within the fleet that have faced off against the sons of Mandalore before, but in microcosm compared to what would be coming our way. Their leader has whipped his followers into a frenzy, as they campaign across the stars with zealous words upon their lips.” Pushing himself off the terminal and taking a step back, Logan continued. “Never underestimate a foe caught in the throes of religious certainty.”

The day was beginning to wear upon his patience. Logan stood before the holographic tactical display and ran through the simulation once again. Several moderate class warships stood watch about the Kuat sector, guarding the approaches and waiting for the time when the Mandalorian fleet had made the transit into the system. Mere seconds later, as all the times before, a massive armada jumped into the system. Dozens of various starship classifications compromised the enemies he would face in this engagement, making the scenario as real and as accurate as possible. They had no data of the exact numbers that had hit the outer rim world of Yavin, thus were simply left to their own devices; children stamping about in the dark hoping to strike gold. He watched intently as the Mandalorian crusaders had swiftly stalked through the void, closing the gap between the two opposing forces. Long range turbolasers opened fire, beginning the battle with silent and thunderous cracks of energy being hurled into the depths of space. Predictive algorithms calculated the best route of the Mandalorian advance and the defense stations responded in kind, filling that area of space with volley upon volley of condensed and superheated energy. That was when they came into range of their missile batteries. Plumes of leaking oxygen trails sprayed out from several of the mounted silos, sending their payloads streaking into the absence of space with the hopes of the warheads connecting with their appointed targets. Enduring the blistering hail of firepower that the Kuati defense force had unleashed, the armada moved on; uncaring of the sustained losses. That was when the crusaders had come into range. The opposing force opened fired, causing several detonations in the unshielded shipyards and glittering flickers of energies across the curvature of the Kuati battle group’s shields. The engagement continued, several vessels breaking formation and committing themselves to various areas of the theatre, though as time began to progress the Dark Tide flotilla began to buckle. Almost all the vessels were crippled as the continuing hail of fire pounded into their hulls, explosively venting the oxygen within. Soon after the skirmish simulation was terminated and, the holographic projector’s heaving thrum fell silent.

Lowering his head into the palm of his hand, Logan added the failure to the list he had created throughout the day. There had been a single time where he was close to victory, but the added variable of reinforcements had snatched success from his grasp. That had been when he had placed the shrouded asteroids near the translation points, causing several of the mandalorian vessels to impact upon arrival with his improvised weapons. It had turned the odds in his favour, but sadly the sheer brutality of the sons of mandalore had withered away his vessels to nothing more than burnt out husks orbiting the planet. Everything within the ship’s cogitator core had pointed towards a decisive or costly victory for the enemy, leaving nothing but varying scales of defeat for the Dark Tide. They were in a bad way, ill prepared and undermanned, as soon as their foes gaze fell upon Kuat, the system would crumble. They needed a change, something that would turn the tide in their favour and bring about the end of this fanatic crusade. For that to happen a pre-emptive strike would need to occur, removing themselves from the defensive and taking the helm of the warrior king himself. Letting a heavy sigh slip from his lips, Logan shook his head remorsefully. Such an act would cost them more than standing their ground here at Kuat, leaving the Dark Tide nothing more than an empty shell of broken dreams and shattered souls. Rousing himself from the tactical display piece, the Captain began rubbing the stubble growing in upon his chin. He could not leave the table before at least one simulation had turned in the Dark Tide’s favour. Be it a victory or a draw, all the change needed to be was something other than defeat. Logan could not allow this spree to continue, not if he desired to remain in command of Lord Sinistra’s flagship.

Lifting one of the many datapads strewn about the edge of the table, Logan began fingering through the possible strategic assets that he could call upon. At first glance the supplies that he could expend were already in place, several new vessels and the ring of shrouded rocks scattered at the edge of the system. However a small smile came upon his lips as he viewed some of the items Rothana and Taim and Bak had on the table, things he would be able to add in the hopes of shoring up this sector’s defense. Pressing upon the profiles with a tap of his finger, Logan sent that information into the data housing of the terminal before him in preparation for the next simulation to begin. Nodding to his second in command, the hololithic display spooled into life, bathing the two men in a wash of emerald light. Like all the times before, the Kuat sector came to life in microcosm. The defense flotilla and the third generation golan’s took up their places upon the board, leaving the opposing field empty of the enemy. Each of the hyperspace access points had clusters of cloaked asteroids scattered about, represented upon the hololithic table by semitransparent orbs marked with the new additions. Upon those barren rocks, was several self-propelled heavy artillery units armed with an oversized sustained turbolaser cannon. The weapon was death incarnate for hardened targets, and Logan had hoped that they would live up to their name when the Sons of mandalore had come. In addition to the surprise he had generated for the improvised asteroid field, three Hypervelocity cannons were placed upon the board. Devastating weapons that the Galactic Empire had used to defend their systems from vessels of all shapes and all sizes; these weapons alone would ensure the playing field was somewhat even after several volleys. Curling his lips into an insidious smile, Logan had the guns placed upon the two moons of the Kuat system and one upon the planet itself. Three angles of fire that would give the Dark Tide the edge they needed once Judgement day had come.

“Begin the simulation, Mister Borodin, let’s see what these religious curs have in store.”

Without a moment wasted in idleness, the mandalorian armada translated from hyperspace. Several enemy vessels jumped onto the board at the edge of the sector, far from the grasp of his talons. Many vessels, in varying ships and classifications, had translated into play within the system’s boundry. It was there that the mandalorians had taken their first casualties; dozens of warships collided with the shrouded asteroids turning into nothing more than atomized clouds of radioactive space debris. Out of the gate, hope seemed to be within his grasp as the enemy began pounding wildly into the void, their vanguard managing to make it through the sensor masked bodies of rock. However with only one egress of advance, Logan watched in interest to see what his computer had cooked up next. As the vanguard began to progress through the system, lines of emerald lightning shot out from the asteroid field, tearing through hulls and venting compartments with each lance like strike. The losses began to mount as time progressed, tripping the reinforcements to come in with a vile gusto. The punishing mistakes that had been inflicted upon the crusader’s vanguard, sadly did not repeat themselves when the second wave had translated into real space. As soon as their guns were powered and their shields had cycled, asteroids of all marks and tonnage began to be systematically destroyed by the wrath of the Mandalorians. The artillery units that had survived continued slicing through the vessels they could, tearing through the electromagnetic security of their energy shields and sundering the metallic hides of the warships hull. Heavy losses had been reaped upon the foe and the Dark Tide flotilla had yet entered the engagement. Things were looking up, in fact Logan felt confident that he would find himself triumphant over the vastly superior intellect of his ship’s computer.

The battle continued as the first and second waves had met the guns of Logan’s picket line, the Golan’s and the Flotilla working in concert as they systematically reduced the opposing fleet to lifeless wrecks. That was until the final and heavier battleships had come into play. Out classed by sheer tonnage, the gathering of various vessels and Nebula-Class Star Destroyers could stand before the might of these weapons of mass destruction. They were so close to snatching victory from the jaws of defeat, until these behemoths had entered play. Numbering three, Logan’s varied flotilla had outnumbered the battleships a paltry four to one. Though the amount of weapons was upon his side, he doubted that he would be able to best these technological terrors. Designed for war and meant to shatter entire fleets, these Mandalorian dreadnaughts would win the day through force alone. The shields they held were vastly superior to anything he had encounter previously, and as the vessels at his command were smaller than the ones he faced, the captain surmised that they would do little but scratch the paint let alone tear down their protective measures. Nodding to his second in command, the simulation began to enter its final phase. The shrouded asteroids were gone, destroyed entirely by what had remained of the crusaders armada, only for those pathetic vessels to be removed swiftly thereafter by the addition of the hypervelocity guns. With all the guns of the Kuati sector waiting for his order, Logan keyed in several new commands and watched as they took immediate effect. The Dark Tide Flotilla had broken its uniformity and began piling around a single one of these battleships, hurtling volley of turbolaser fire and ion bolts into its defenses. Firing solutions from the third generation Golan platforms had come into play, feeding the data directly to the hypervelocity cannons. In response, the new data began focusing the fire of the three cannons upon a single target. Thousands of rounds shot at the mind bending speeds impacted the shields, battering the defenses of yet another of these crusader behemoths. After the data had been sent, the two Golan platforms began firing at the third, though the damage inflicted would be far less than that of the flotilla or the emplacement cannons, it was meant to tie the vessels in place whilst the others cleaned up the pieces upon the board.

Sweat began to bead upon Logan’s brow as he watched the battleships wither the numbers of his flotilla down to a small handful of vessels before the shields had finally burst. One of the badly damaged vessels, oddly enough an Imperial II class frigate designated the Avenger, began spooling up its jump drives whilst the thrusters began positioning the craft in the desired direction. The Captain knew what the vessel was about to do, and a grim mask had suddenly adorned his face. He hated that he was forced to resort to drastic measures in order to arrest a victory from the inevitable loss. The man closed his eyes as the ship translated into hyperspace and collided with the dreadnaught, wrenching the mandalorians insides and casting them into the darkness of the void. Oxygen vented into space with an explosive fervor, only made insignificant when the reactor had gone nova. Several ships were caught in the blast and the hololithic display had a hard time displaying the aftermath of such an event. Only two battleships remained, and what Logan had on hand to counter the dire threat was paltry at best. The big guns would never tire in their rampant assault against the vessel, casting their ammunition into the void in defiance of what was to come. It mattered little that the battleships had been able to counter the expended shells from the hypervelocity cannon, for they only needed to buy the tattered flotilla time. The ragged remains of the Dark Tide and Mandalorian armadas began a slug match that saw the end of almost all the Kuati ships, but managed to reduce yet another of the Dreadnaughts to molten slag. Much of Kuat’s defenses were still intact and the last remaining vessel in the skies had been crippled.

It was a draw.