Talon stood towards the rear of the bridge, brow furrowed, talking earnestly with Horton, whose bloodshot eyes and layer of rough stubble made it far too clear that he had not seen nearly enough sleep lately. More normally Talon would have disciplined the man for the uniform infraction, but these were special circumstances.
"At least we have the Harrier's main drive back on line."
"No! No you don't sir. Not properly at least." Said Horton with a snap, as if he were explaining something to a wilful child who refused to listen. Again, Talon just chalked it up to fatigue as Horton continued a little more calmly. "If you run that thing at class one speeds for any length of time you will blow out the engines worse than they were before! Those turbolasers and the emergency safety kicking in did a lot of damage. Just one of those things was melting every single power converter and thermal regulator between the main hyperdrive and the engine ports. It's taken us days to chisel them out and we only have about seventy percent of them replaced. You have a sustainable class four drive at best."

Talon let out a little, unhappy, groan of thought. A class four drive was a marked improvement on the class eight reserve engine. But almost every ship of the line, be it Republic or Imperial, operated at class one or two speeds. He still couldn't outrun them, but he could run for longer.
"How much more time do you need Horton?" Horton seemed to struggle to focus for a few moments, failing to remember the context of the question. Eventually he managed to force out.
"Another…. Two days sir, maybe."
"When was the last time you slept man?"
"Two and a bit days ago, I think sir. Must be coming up on three now." Horton seemed barely able to focus, even with such simple questions.
"And your crews?" Pressed Talon with concern.
"I make sure they get a little sleep between shifts. But they are all on double rotation, at least." Talon shook his head. He understood that a crisis called for the men to work long hours, this was war after all. But he also knew that tired men did sloppy work, and sloppy work was not something you wanted when dealing with power systems that could be described as a miniature sun.
"Give your men a rest cycle. Get some sleep yourself Horton. I want the hyperdrive to work, not explode."
"But sir, we don't have much time." Protested Horton, trying to summon up what dregs of energy and attention he had left.
"No we don't, and even if you could do it in two days, we don't have two days." Like a battered old droid Horton's mind was running a few seconds slow, were he his usual self he would have caught Talon's meaning in an instant. But fatigued to the point of uselessness he could only ask.
"Sir?"
"The gamble with Mannis has paid off, in a big way. Bought us three days, but those three days are up. Probe droids are reporting in X wing locations, based on this pattern they will be on us by the end of the day. I will need your crews awake and alert when the battle begins. Send the crews back to their home ships with just a skeleton contingent on the Harrier, it will have to stand as it is."
"You mean to do battle sir?" Talon unsuccessfully tried to muffle a sigh as he looked out towards the cold stars.
"No. I mean to run away. But I might not have a choice"

Those words did not bring comfort to Talon or to Horton. If the Republic came again they would not come with just two frigates, and the broken and battered Imperial battle group could not stand against any serious opposition. But Talon did a better job of hiding it, whilst Horton's haggard face visibly fell as he gave a slow, mournful nod.
"I will order the men back to their ships, come next shift we will all be fresh."
"Very good Horton, and Horton. Good work with the hyperdrive."
"Aye sir." He just said solemnly, holding back the unspoken words, that it just wasn't enough.

In contrast, Talon was not nearly so defeatist. It may have been sub optimal, but he was determined to make a damn good show of it. Still, both his mind and his gut told him he only had hours left, he needed to start making the final preparations. To that end, he summoned Jan up to the bridge.
"Major. This little game of cat and mouse is about to come to an end." Talon's light-hearted choice of words did little to conceal the solemnity that lay beneath. "The Harrier will be at exceptionally high risk. Pull security staff other than a skeleton detail off of the ship. If the Harrier is lost I want to minimise the loss of life."
"Commander, with so few people aboard we will not be able to control a riot should it break out." Stated Jan, bluntly.
"No, you won't. Which is why the skeleton crew left aboard needs two key capabilities. The ability to vent sections into space and the ability to detonate the power plant. Both can be done from the bridge. Let the prisoners know that any infraction by any one man, no matter how small, will result in the immediate ventilation of that section into space. Killing everyone in the section. Should that not contain the problem the entire ship will be detonated in short order." His approach was matter of fact and almost alarmingly dispassionate considering that this order could result in the deaths of thousands. He had no desire to kill the prisoners before lawful processes were observed. But they were not as important as the Harrier, or keeping an Imperial ship out of Republic hands, and he could not afford to be faint hearted at a time like this. Jan's concerns however, were somewhat different.
"That will kill the skeleton crew."
"Yes, it will." Replied Talon bluntly, clearly not relishing the thought but seeing no other way forward, at least not one that would not risk even more Imperial lives. Jan for his part, knew his Commander would not scuttle the ship until he absolutely had to, which regretfully would mean doing so on short notice, with a crew on board.
"Then I shall lead the skeleton crew myself." Talon could not help but instinctively want to order Jan to stay aboard the Prosecutor. He was a valuable officer, and despite their personal disagreements Talon recognised the man's skill, ability and sterling record. The loss of Jan would be extremely regrettable. But he also knew that there was no way in hell that Talon was going to persuade Jan to stay. Not just because of the trooper's stubborn streak, but because of something much more fundamental, something Talon felt as deeply as Jan did. A Captain was the last man off his ship, at least any decent Captain was. Nor should an officer order his men into near certain death unless he is willing to risk his own life with them. Talon knew the same held as true for Jan as much as it did for him. Of course, the practical responsibilities of command sometimes frustrated this. But the principal was an important one. This was one of those moments when the display had to be made.

So, after a long moment of consideration Talon just gave a brief nod of solemn understanding and extended a hand.
"Best of luck Major." There was a pause before Jan took Talon's outstretched palm with a firm shake.
"Best of luck Commander." In this moment there was no sense of acrimony between the two. Now was not the time for petty squabbles or personality clashes, they were two officers, going to the wall side by side. Some things were more important.

Neither of them wasted further precious time with meaningless words. They both knew the hours were short, and Talon was busy trying to concoct a way out of this. Once Jan had left, Talon's mind drifted back to words he had said in jest to Lani. Fight, flight, bluff. Bluff…. Bluff. Suddenly an idea hit him like a freight train. With visible flurry he dashed over to a nearby console and began bringing up star charts and inventory lists. In his head he started recalculating ranges based on their new speeds whilst his fingers hurriedly went through bomber weapon load outs. His eyes were going wide with the possibilities, he could see the shape of a solution emerging. He just needed one more piece of information!
"Sir. Our probe droids have made contact with an enemy formation."
"Put it through to this display."

But when he saw the reports Talon could not stop a little shiver running down his spine. Four MC30 frigates, four CR90 corvettes, a pair of aging dreadnaught cruisers and an MC80 Liberty variant cruiser were apparently on the hunt. And this time, they were being smart, sticking together and allowing their X wings to do the reconnaissance. Talon was no stranger to the concept of overkill, but this battle group could have defeated Talon's at full strength! He could only surmise that Republic command in the region was panicking at the idea of a battle group behind their lines, and was airing on the side of caution when it came to the battle damage reports from their surviving commanders. Talon wished that Isard had listened to him in that hallway. But now was not the time for wishful thinking, he had to make do with what he had, and the certain knowledge that he could not win this fight.

He had to risk it all on one great bluff. Snatching at his communicator Talon contacted the TIE armoury.
"This is Commander Rake, I need you to assemble as much chaff from the shuttle defensive systems as you can, load it all into a container and prepare it in the main hanger bay. Do you understand?"
"Confirmed sir." The response sounded confused about the purpose, but the order was clear enough.
"Good. I also need you to ready a thermal detonator bomb from one of the bombers."
"Aye sir."
"Excellent. Commander Rake out." With a speed and barely contained energy rarely shown by Talon he then strode over his crew pits, calling down to his old comrade from the Resolve.
"Yulish. I need you to go down to the ion cannons and extract an entire ion charge pack. Then, get some reserve ion containment shielding for repairing the firing chamber and some welding torches, and bring it all down to the main hanger bay." He barely even paused long enough for Yulish to clamber out of the pit and leap into action before Talon was again on the communicator to the duty chief of engineering. He made a mental note to shoot Horton if he dared pick up the comm. Fortunately it was one of his more junior crew who answered.
"This is Commander Rake. I require one thousand litres of engine waste and an amount of fatigued or damaged hull plating brought down to the main hanger bay along with a few hands. Understood?"
"Understood sir, but we are very short on hands here." Replied the somewhat perplexed engineer with an obvious reluctance to pull much needed men off of vital tasks.
"This will be worth it I assure you." Before he had even finished his sentence he was moving, scribbling feverishly on a datapad as he went. He had an idea, it was a long shot, but it was that or going out in a blaze of glory. And as noble as that end might have been, he fully intended for the Prosecutor to fight another day. As he went, something approaching a schematic began to emerge on the screen. Though in truth it was little more than a concept. A strange mix of ammunition, explosives, scrap metal and engine waste.

By the time Talon reached the Prosecutor's main hanger bay what awaited him was an array of seemingly mismatched parts, equally out of place tools and a gaggle of confused looking servicemen who hurriedly came to attention as their Commander strode in. Talon, on the other hand, was full of purpose and focus.
"Gentlemen. We are about to build a bomb." Talon could have sworn he saw several of his men instinctively take half a step away from the assorted odds and ends that lay haphazardly about the deck. But he continued regardless. "More specifically, we are going to build a bomb that will make us seem more damaged than we are, fool the enemy's sensors and mislead them as to our hyperdrive capabilities." Reaching into his pocket Talon drew out a data pad and projected the rough sketch of his hairbrained design that he had thrown together, to the team of unwitting volunteers that stood before him. Some of them looked on in disbelief as Talon explained his plan.
"We will build a dish out of the ion charge resistant material. We will modify the thermal detonation bomb to direct its blast in a single direction. This bomb will then be placed in the dish, with the blast facing outward. The remainder of the dish will be filled with the ion charge pack, fuel waste and missile chaff. The dish will then be closed with fatigued hull plating. When the device is detonated the blast will rupture the ion pack and spray fuel waste, ion charge energy, chaff and loose debris into the void. The effect of this will be to simulate an engine rupture and secondary detonation at the moment of entering hyperspace. The secondary materials, that the foe will chalk up to the explosion, will confuse their sensors enough to mask the true speed of the flotilla. This will form a key part of my plan. Your task men, is to build it. Turn my concept into something workable."

An uneasy silence followed, as the disciplined men resisted the urge to cast one another doubting sideways glances, until eventually one of the engineers stepped forward.
"We can put something together, it will be sloppy without time for a more thorough design though sir." Talon could tell from the man's tone that he was attempting to dissuade him from the plan, without crossing into insubordination, a rare but vital talent.
"I don't mind if it's sloppy crewman, as long as it's functional."
"We will need to add a short range transmitter to the detonator of the bomb for remote activation. But we can build it. Though sir, I must point out, this device will not have the power to penetrate the hull of any of our ships, even from the inside."
"I am aware of that Crewman. The device is to be placed on the Harrier. The façade will be most convincing on that ship given the prior state of her engines."
"Sir if you are aware that this device will not punch through the armour, do you intend to mount it on the outer hull?" Again, there was a slight hint of disbelief in the man's voice. But Talon remained firm.
"Indeed I do crewman. It is the only way this will work."
"Well, we are going to need some mag locks. But sir, we will have to place this device amongst the engine ports whilst walking in the vacuum of space. If the Harrier moves, either in sub light or enters hyperspace, the work crew will be killed." Talon gave a single, slow nod at the observation.
"You are quite correct, and I believe that we will have to start making jumps increasingly often. Once the device is ready you will be launched to the Harrier immediately after the next jump. This should give you the maximum amount of time to install the device."

Talon could see the look of doubt in the man's eyes. Doubt that the plan would even work, doubt that they would survive the installation. Even Talon had to admit to himself that this was a longshot. But it was the only shot they had, and more importantly, these were his orders. After a heavy moment, the engineer stepped forward, banished any hint of concern from his eyes, turned and addressed the hastily cobbled together team.
"We have our orders and we have our materials. Let's get to work!" Talon made sure to note this crewman's face. He could tell this man did not believe in the plan. But that despite his own personal doubts, he was doing what he could to project confidence and belief to the rest of the team. One of the marks of a good subordinate, and sorely needed right now.

Talon knew he would do little by hovering over their shoulders, best to let the men work undisturbed. Walking through the once pristine corridors of the Prosecutor on his way back to the bridge, he could not help but notice how much and how swiftly these halls had come to resemble the Resolve's. Open spaces had been filled with heaped stashes of spare parts and cast-off broken components, with too few crewmen available to ship them from place to place as every spare hand was busy with the repairs themselves. Whilst the purely cosmetic was ignored entirely, leading to scuffs, burn marks and grime that would never have passed inspection in dock. Were the circumstances anything other than what they were, he would have brought any crew that left a ship in this condition up on charges. But today, a disorderly hall was the least of the ship's concerns.

Over the next few hours, the flotilla moved in a standard evasion pattern through dead space, scattering probe droids as they went. It was a manoeuvre Aeron had taught Talon some time ago for one reason, to never use it. It was a tired old trick, one every Republic Captain knew. If Talon had actually wanted to lose the fleet he would have had a better chance moving in a straight line, at least that would have surprised the foe. But Talon did not want to lose them. He wanted to stay just ahead of them, buying his engineers time, slipping out of the X wing screen's grasp every time they were about to ensnare him. He would look every inch like the uninventive Imperial officer that Republic propaganda had trained them to expect, he had to hope the façade held. For if they suspected his guile, they might just see the trap.

Asteroid field FT2Z14. Too unimportant to ever actually receive a name, this irrelevant collection of rocks in an irrelevant patch of space would never normally catch anyone's eye. It was so far removed from the trade lanes even pirates turned their nose up at it. But now, Talon was making for it, and every navigator worth their salt could see it coming. It was a fine place to hide, were the foe not already so close on his tail. Doubtless this desperate Imperial officer, in command of a gaggle of broken ships, was hoping to slip his pursuers and shelter there. Or at least that was what Talon wanted them to think. He knew that at the reserve speeds they were currently traveling at the main Republic Battlegroup would catch him within minutes of arriving at the asteroid field. He hoped to the stars the Republic Captains could see that to, and snatch at the chance.

More slow hours passed, the day was drawing to a close, the men were exhausted, and the asteroids were a stone's throw away in hyperspace. Talon was buying the team as much time as he could, but this could not last. If they…
"Message from the hanger bay sir." Declared a crewman. "They report device ready."
"Drop out of hyperspace! Launch a shuttle with the device and installation crew immediately"

Translating back into conventional space Talon knew they had mere minutes before the X wings were on them again. He watched the shuttle tear out of his ship, ignoring almost every safety precaution about maximum flight speeds out of the hanger and near ship flight protocols. The craft even opened its passenger ramp before coming to a halt in defiance of almost every scrap of pilot training. But there was too little time for caution.

Crewmen in airtight TIE pilot and storm trooper gear leapt from the shuttle, crudely tied to the inside of the ship with long safety cables, dragging their jerry-rigged device out with them. The thing was a mess of poorly welded metal, odd angles and jagged edges. But it held, even as the mag locks sealed it to the hull of the Harrier, nestled amongst engine ports, doing its best to look like just another part of the damage.

Hurriedly the crew began to pull themselves back into the shuttle, which had already begun to edge away from the worksite. Glancing at a nearby display Talon saw the clock and bit the inside of his cheek. Their work had been fast, but perhaps not fast enough. Their window of opportunity was tiny, and shrinking with every hyperspace jump. If the X wings saw the shuttle in flight, the ruse might be exposed. Eyes jumping between the lambda class shuttle and the relentlessly advancing clock, Talon began to doubt that there was enough time to get back.
"Signal the shuttle." He ordered. "She is to land in the Harrier's bay." The response was almost immediate.
"Harrier declines permission sir!"
"What? Why?" Snapped Talon.
"One moment sir." The shuttle's pilot was clearly as aware of the time pressure as Talon, and was not waiting for clarification. He had already begun his course for the Harrier, but upon being denied had turned for the Prosecutor and was making way at speed. "All hangars have large numbers of prisoners. They cannot rapidly clear them out to allow safe landing. The Harrier fears the prisoners will take over the shuttle before it's engines can be disabled or before the shuttle could safely leave again."

Whilst Talon had not forgotten about the presence of the prisoners, in the heat of the moment he had not considered that possibility. There were ways he and the shuttle crew could mitigate it. But debating such measures would take time, and regardless of right or wrong, time was one thing they did not have. Far quicker to just accept the Harrier's decision.
"Acknowledged, return her to our hanger bay and prepare the hyperdrives for the final jump."
"Aye sir."

Ion exhausts burning the dull grey shuttle tore towards the Prosecutor, straining her engines and making for the hanger at speeds which seemed more likely to result in a crash than a landing. Talon's hands clenched tighter behind his back as he began to count down in his head to the moment he believed the X wings would arrive, hoping that his rapid mental arithmetic and probe droid data was correct.
"Shuttle in bay!" Cried a crewman. "Hanger reports crash landing from over fast approach. Minor damage."
"Clear the debris, nothing must obstruct fighter…" But he was interrupted by a cry of alarm.
"Contacts! X wings to our stern!"
"Time until the flotilla is ready to jump to destination at maximum speed?" Asked Talon, his voice calm, but sharp and clipped
"Twenty seconds!"
"Margin for error?"
"Two seconds." Came the reply, a little more uncertain than Talon would have liked.
"Unacceptable, signal all ships to jump in 21 seconds, accurate to the tenth of a second!"
"Signal sent."
"Confirm time to jump."
"X wings approaching weapons range!" Declared a sensor officer from elsewhere on the bridge, but Talon ignored it. Focusing all his attention on the jump.
"Seventeen point five seconds." Came the clarification from the first crewman, pressure evident in his tone, but controlled.
"Set device to detonate naught point two seconds before hyperspace jump!" Ordered Talon with a heavy emphasis on the exact timing. He knew that for this to work the explosion and the jump to hyperspace had to take place in the same heartbeat. Even a snub fighter's sensors would be able to pick up on a delay longer than that.
"Aye sir!"
"Confirm!" Demanded Talon, refusing to accept any chance of an error.
"Proton torpedo launches detected!" Called the sensor officer once more, but again Talon dismissed it from his mind. The only words he cared to hear were those of his hyperspace officer.
"Confirmed!"

As the sensor trace of the incoming torpedoes and the assault craft grew closer Talon tried to work out which would come first, the torpedo strike, or the jump. There was nothing he could do to affect the outcome now. To change course would only throw off their jump calculations, and hit or no hit, he would not delay their leap into hyperspace.

Despite his outward appearance of the unflappable officer, the worry and doubt clutched at his heart. The tension became almost unbearable as the stationary pin pricks of light began to distort into the long lines of hyperspace travel, he could feel his chest tighten. The normally elegant display was marred by a sudden flash of light, that bloomed like a miniature sun in the distorted reality that marked the threshold between conventional space and hyperspace. Sensors blared in alarm, but the crew carried on regardless, whilst Talon prayed that the relatively primitive sensor suite of the X wings was even more confused by the detonation than his own.

The flotilla entered hyperspace at full speed, the Harrier's engines held. At this rate he could have passed the asteroid field before the Republic arrived and try to outpace the foe. But he was too far behind enemy lines for that, and Horton's caution about the sustainability of moving at class one speeds still echoed in Talon's mind. So utterly cut off and with unreliable hyperdrives he knew he would be caught eventually. The only chance he thought he had was to cripple those who were on his tail, prevent a message about his true speed getting out, and make for the hole before the Republic knew they had one.

To his mind this asteroid field presented the only chance they had to get out of this. No sane commander would drop out of hyperspace too close to any asteroid field. Not even Talon, in his moment of desperate need, would do that. Translation was too inaccurate, and the risk too great. But, by arriving earlier than expected, he intended to drop out of hyperspace at the minimum safe distance, then move closer to the rocks at sub light, interposing himself between the field and the likely approach vector of the Republic's main battle group. It would be a poor position. Open, with a flank to the rocks he would have little room for manoeuvre. Such features may have been fantastic to hide in, but were terrible to fight in. Cornered, battered, broken, the Republic ships would only need to stand off and pound him into oblivion at range.

But he was banking everything on the foe not expecting him to be that close to the asteroids and it being too late to abort by the time they realised what was happening, if they realised at all. Talon had one last card to play, the gravity well generator. From his new position the gravity well generator would have enough coverage to encompass both the asteroids and the Republic approach. If this worked, he could pluck the enemy right out of hyperspace and toss them into real space right in the heart of the asteroid field.

It was one hell of a gamble, all the enemy needed to do was drop out of hyperspace too far away, and that would be that. The display with the sensor baffling bomb was designed to dissuade just that caution. By masking how soon he would be arriving, he hoped that the enemy would not believe this caution to be necessary, and instead leap on the chance to finally be rid of this annoyance behind their line. Were the situation anything other than what it was, he would far rather withdraw than risk a confrontation with the plainly superior Republic battle group. Even with a gravity well generator these were not odds he liked. But he was running out of places to run, and this was the best patch of space he could reach.

He would make his stand and hope to the stars that this would not be the Prosecutor's final battle.

The journey to the asteroid field was not a long one. As soon as the flotilla dropped out of the eerie swirling tunnel of hyperspace Talon's orders to reposition were broadcast, whilst signalmen and comms officers coordinated the Prosecutor's and the Intrepid's counter measures suites in readiness to jam the foe's signals when they came. Until the order was given the Intrepid would idle on half power, hoping to fool the foe into believing many of her systems were not operational. There was not much to do now, but get into position, and wait. But it was a dreadful waiting. Though Talon remained wordless, save for necessary commands, he could not help but wonder if this is how the condemned felt, blind folded and waiting for the shot they could not see. As every crewman bent himself with what could be their penultimate effort, Talon felt the hair on the back of his neck begin to stand on end. The moment was coming.

As his ships slid into their positions, Talon's mind turned to when to activate the gravity well generator. Too soon and the Republic would abort, Talon's one chance to spring the trap would be lost forever. Too late and the battle group would arrive intact and in place, that battle would be a short one. Half his brain was screaming feverishly to give the order, the other half firmly demanded he stay his hand.
"Enemy scout squadron emerging from hyperspace!" Called a voice from the crew pits. Talon's eye moved slowly over to the tiny pin pricks of light in the black as a handful of X wings translated into conventional space. He could not help but regret the fact that those craft were in the hands of rebels rather than sitting in his launch bay. It was not just their excellent sub light capabilities he envied, but those hyperdrives were worth their weight in gold.

The guns of Talon's battle group remained silent, these X wings were here to do nothing more than act as the eyes for the approaching Republic craft, and as such were hanging well out of effective turbo range. Besides, Talon wanted them to take a good, long look at his limping collection of broken ships.
"Probe droid 7 reports hyperspace disturbance. Wake profile matches the battle group. Speed Rating 1!" Talon had begun counting the seconds in his head the moment his officer had opened his mouth. 10,9,8, a sense of worry crept into his mind, were his calculations correct? He had checked them three times but was that enough? 7,6,5, had he correctly understood the mind of the battle group leader that was hunting him? If he held just one of his main ships back this might not work. 4, had the enemy seen through this ploy? Did the sensor bomb really confuse them? 3, would the Republic just avoid the asteroids out of caution? 2, did the Republic leader believe the reduced power signature of the Intrepid? 1, the moment of truth. With hands clenched firmly behind him, twisting in the tension of the moment, Talon gave the order.
"Activate the gravity well generator!"

Gentle beeps came from a few consoles as the sensors indicated a sudden gravitational disturbance. A heart beat later the battlegroup tore unceremoniously out of hyperspace with a thundering boom, tossed into the heart of the field. The results were as swift as they were brutal. Corvettes were dashed against the rocks, breaking like children's toys. The frigates in the battle group did little better, with one attentive pilot managing to weave past the first asteroid only to slam sideways into a second and bounce off in a cartwheel of flame and hurtling metal into a third. The first of the two dreadnoughts hurtled nose first into a rock twenty times its size, crumpling like a concertina as her drive section pummelled forward through the length of the ship before detonating in a flash of dull orange fire. The crew of the second dreadnaught were, somewhat more fortunate. At least their deaths were faster. That ship translated out of hyperspace into the centre of an asteroid. For a brief moment the two objects occupied the same space, before the laws of physics harmonized the opposing realities and tore the ship into little more than a hail of splinters and burning gas.

Only the MC80, a triumph of Mon Calamari engineering, was not instantly destroyed by the trap. But it was by the slimmest of margins. Like most ships of that world, the craft's design looked better suited to a life under the sea than amongst the stars. She put Talon in mind of some prehistoric whale that had drifted through the inky depths for aeons. Her body littered with strange growths and clinging limpets, masking the powerful and elegant form that lay beneath. But whilst her design was unsettlingly organic in appearance when compared to the sterile precision of Imperial ships, no officer in the Imperial Navy could deny their effectiveness. Several smaller asteroids smashed into the ship before her shields could fully engage, leaving open holes and weeping gashes in her surface. One larger rock tore through her portside fin, severing it clean from the hull, spilling plasma, broken metal, and crew into the void. Another shard of stone rammed through her topside hull to lance out from her underside before becoming stuck in place. But nonetheless, a few seconds later, despite the fires and secondary explosions that began to litter the great ship's hull, her shields engaged.
"Position the flotilla to keep as many rocks between us and that thing as is possible!" Ordered Talon, amazed that the rebel craft might still have some combat effectiveness. "Launch all tie craft other than bombers, prioritise the destruction of enemy snub fighters." For this to work he had to make sure nothing, nothing, would be able to enter into a close pursuit. A single X wing on their tail might not destroy them, but it would make escape damn near impossible. Fortunately, as depleted as his force was, he still had a decisive numerical advantage over the scout squadron and with the gravity well generator online those ships were not going anywhere.

Aboard the Harrier however, things were not progressing as smoothly. Jan watched the skeleton crew dash about the bridge, executing Talon's orders as best they could. Trying to keep something between them and the one surviving rebel ship. At first Jan had thought such an order superfluous, that was until he saw the crippled craft open up with what remained of its guns. Some attempting to knock the Imperial craft out of the sky, others desperately trying to blast a path out of the asteroid field. But as the great ship managed to blow away one obstruction, two more appeared. It took Jan a few seconds to work out why, but he could not help but let a slow look of smug satisfaction cross what remained of his face as he realised what Talon had done. By projecting a gravity well into the middle of an asteroid field, he not only forced the rebel ships to exit hyperspace in an extremely hazardous environment. But slowly, those asteroids were also being drawn into that same gravity well. Methodically striking the hobbled cruiser again and again, whilst making it incrementally harder for the craft to escape or get a clear shot on the Imperial craft. Jan could not help but allow himself to feel a brief moment of grudging respect for the dastardliness of Talon's plan, glad that the Commander was not here to see it.

But he could not think about that for long as his attention was ripped to the internal sensors and cameras. From the looks of it the prisoners in A barrack had decided now was their moment and were staging a breakout. Not unreasonable, Jan thought, after all if everything went to plan this was their last chance to escape before reaching the Imperial fleet, and the sound of gunfire must have tipped them off as to what was going on outside. But, it would still not be good enough. With no hesitation, and even less discomfort, Jan activated the automated door and pressure cycles necessary to blast these treasonous filth out into the void. But his easy confidence was shaken when he heard the harsh buzz of a malfunction alert. Curse it! They must have sabotaged the system from inside. With their only real method of crowd control gone Jan was forced to watch impotently as the escapees tore into the network of corridors and made a beeline for the bridge like a human tide. Unarmed as the prisoners were, Jan knew that their sheer weight of numbers would be able to overwhelm what forces he had.

Slamming his hand down on the emergency fire button every blast door in the section rammed closed, whilst the fire suppressant system engaged. It might not stop the breakout, but it would slow it down. Bringing up a plan of the ships internal corridors Jan struggled to make sense of the confusing mess of diagrams and projections. But, relying more on his extensive experience serving on these ships than on the maps, he eventually managed to plot a route between the rioters' bottle neck and the main hanger bay. His plan was a simple one, vent the main hanger into space, then depressurise each section to the rioters one by one. They may have been able to override the controls in their glorified cell, but he wagered they would not be able to do so again so quickly.

There was only one problem. The hanger bay was also one of the primary places where prisoners were being held, and they were being entirely compliant. Taken on their own there was no reason to unceremoniously butcher them all by tossing them into the void, a death that was not as painless as many thought. Indeed, such things were the kinds of actions Republic tribunals were handing out life sentences for with captured Imperial officers. But Jan had no difficulty whatsoever in opening the bay doors and dropping the atmospheric shield. He knew these men and women would be executed anyway, what did it matter if the sentence was carried out a few days earlier? And he would be damned if he would sacrifice one of his men to save even a thousand turncoats. He paid little mind to their deaths as their bodies hurtled out into the void, lungs rupturing and blood vaporising. To Jan they deserved every moment of it. Slowly a dull sense of satisfaction, came over him as Jan managed to successfully route the vacuum into the corridor holding the rioters. But the focus of his relief was not on the deaths of traitors, but on the fact the Harrier would survive. Or at least Jan would not be forced to detonate the whole thing from within. They would survive another day, and at least he could deny the rebel scum the Harrier.

Meanwhile, in the cold void of space, Mannis was blasting out of the Prosecutor's hanger in his TIE interceptor, the echoing screams of his squad mate's engines sounding like a pack of wailing banshees falling on the foe. Ahead of him he could see what remained of the Intrepid's and the Stalwart's TIE craft making for the handful of X wings that were very suddenly all alone. He felt almost sorry for them, almost. For once it was their turn to know that desperate feeling that came with having no hyperdrive, knowing there was no way out, no easy escape. This time they could not just hit a button and run away. Just once, these pilots would have an inkling of what it was like to fly a TIE. The sudden shock showed in how the X wing pilots flew. They were poorly coordinated, desperate, and improvisational. He could almost hear their panicked calls into command ships that were no longer there, frantic barking at astromech droids to fix hyperdrives that were perfectly functional and desperate pleas for a plan. These distractions made them easy prey for focused men in agile TIEs. It was almost like target practice, and over just as quickly.

But when his instruments showed fresh contacts emerging from the asteroid field it was his turn to be surprised. Fortunately, his mind, trained by experience and sharpened by adrenaline, was quickly able to put two and two together.
"All squad leads. Fresh contacts bearing 098, 092. That cruiser must still be able to launch her fighters. Turn to face." As the TIEs turned on their new foes with practiced precision, Talon was watching the scene from the bridge of the Prosecutor. He had been relying on the cruiser being knocked entirely out of action. But the ship refused to break. Even as more and more asteroids slowly fell upon her some of her guns still fired. As her lights flickered and faded, her hanger still launched its craft. It was not just Imperials who had a spine it seemed. But what concerned Talon the most were those Y wings. He could do nothing as he watched them peel off from the main group and make a beeline for the Intrepid. He could only hope that, as the most intact vessel in the flotilla, the Intrepid could stand against what she was about to endure. Her advanced systems and guidance baffling devices could fend off some torpedoes, but not all. And having lost over half of her crew put her guns in a sorry state.
"Redirect fire to cover the Intrepid!" He ordered. But he was already cursing himself for his hubris. By sending the entire fighter screen after one squad he may have ensured a victory there. But he had entirely neglected the possibility of more fighters from elsewhere. He remembered that old phrase "maintain reinforcements at all times at all levels." He had heard it at the academy, he had heard it from his father as a boy. But in his enthusiasm and urgent desire to close this trap as quickly as he could, he had been reckless. Now he just had to hope that they could keep the Intrepid alive long enough for the interceptors and fighters to mop up the rest of the X wings and come to the Intrepid's rescue.

Mannis watched the shifting fire of the Prosecutor, and what remained of the flotilla, with a slight twist in his stomach. He may not have been on the bridge of one of those great ships, but he had been in enough battles to read their ebb and flow. He knew that such a knee jerk redirection of firepower against less than ideal targets was rarely a good sign. But with enemy X wings closing on him, the troubles of the Prosecutor might as well have been on the far side of the galaxy. Instead he focused his eyes on the neatly arrayed Republic ships that were flying at him with the same immaculate grouping you would expect of a flyby on parade. As his instruments showed the enemy getting closer and closer to effective weapon range his thumbs hovered over the triggers, quad linked cannons straining to be let loose. Suddenly, just out of proper range, the X wings opened up. First it was a single fighter, but in a heartbeat it was followed by all the rest, jumping as if at a starter's pistol. It told Mannis all he needed to know. Without aiming he fired a burst before rapidly increasing speed and jamming his nose down. At these ranges it would take a ship with the mobility of a Hutt not to get out of the way, he knew he was never going to hit.

But, by firing too early, the Republic pilots had accidentally told Mannis and his wingmen something very important, these pilots were green, and just a little nervous. In their tight formation the X wings could only go up or down to evade, Mannis's burst of fire was meant to force them to do nothing more than that. And whilst it was by no means a sure thing, Mannis knew that novices instinctively pulled up far more than they dove down. Without even waiting to see what the foe were doing, for a second's pause was the difference between life and death in a TIE, Mannis pulled out of his dive and climbed sharply, pushing the interceptors gnat like manoeuvrability to the limit. If his gamble was correct, he would be looking at the underbelly of a climbing X wing. If he was wrong, he would be staring down the Republic's own famed quad linked cannons.

But, just as anticipated, it was the underside of an X wing that came into view. A prolonged burst of the interceptor's trademark rapid fire overwhelmed the craft's shield's and detonated it in a ball of broiling dull orange flame. Looking about him Mannis was pleased to see many of his wingmen had deployed similar tricks. His men had long since stopped being green. But, in quieter moments when the roar of engines died, he could not help but worry how young the faces of veterans were becoming. With resources growing ever sparser, and the foe growing ever larger, fresh pilots were flying more combat missions in half a year than most of the old guard had in their entire careers before Endor. That fateful day had been less than half a decade ago. Just shy of a mere four years… Back then he had been an up and coming star, even serving in Death Squadron for a time, one of Fel's young favourites. It felt like yesterday, but now his fellow pilots looked at him as if he were the old man. He didn't even have a grey hair on his head.

But such thoughts were for the barracks. With a reflexive twist Mannis dodged around the cloud of debris that had been his opponent, and continued to bring his fighter back on itself in the makings of a tight loop. This brought him down behind another X wing that was levelling off. Again, Mannis let fly a burst of iridescent green fire. But this pilot was twitchy. No sooner had Mannis let loose his first shots than the foe banked right, then sharp left, slow dive, slow climb, hard dive. Mannis could see in his mind's eye the panicked pilot jerking almost randomly on his control column. But none of it could shake Mannis, who stayed close behind in his more manoeuvrable interceptor. The veteran pilot kept one eye on his instruments and one on his view ports. Often times such evasion was just a set up for a wingman to swoop in and gun down the pursuer. But nothing came, each man was acting on his own, whilst his own pilots were well positioned to stop just such a relief effort occurring. After a few short seconds Mannis had his chance, laying a sustained bout of fire into the X wing's rear until the craft's engines detonated in a spectacular flash of blinding white, instantly turning the snub fighter and it's pilot into little more than a cloud of super-heated molten metal and vaporised flesh.

By now all semblance of formation fighting had crumbled away, this little corner of space had become a confused mess of darting fighters, each trying to win their own personal battle with the ship they were laying in their sights, and the ship that was trying to get on their tail. But the professionalism of the TIE pilots shone through in their radio communication. Short, calm and to the point requests to coordinate tail intercepts and setups. He felt a touch of professional pride at the fact that those surviving pilots from his old ship were the best amongst them, he had drilled them hard and well. But there were none here that he would have given a failing grade to.

But despite the solid performance of his TIE pilots, Talon was still wishing that they would hurry up and deal with those damn X wings so they could circle back to support the Intrepid. The guns of the Prosecutor, Intrepid and the Stalwart all sounded out like thunder into the void, putting round after round of Imperial green onto the Y wings. But turbo lasers could only do so much against fighters, and as Talon watched the dull flashes of torpedo impacts sporadically erupt on the Intrepid's hull, he knew it was not enough. Skilled gunners and electronic countermeasures were keeping the worst of it away from vital components, but the leather of Talon's gloves creaked with the strain of his wringing hands as he watched a plume of acrid smoke slowly rise from the Intrepid's top deck. The gravity well had to hold!

But the Intrepid was threatened by more than just Y wings. Talon had not wagered on the cruiser surviving, crippled as it was the ship was still a triumph of Mon Calamari engineering and still had a bite. As the shifting field of asteroids buffeted about in the artificial gravity field that sucked them towards the great cruiser, a hole opened up. A hole the cruiser could fire through, a hole that led straight to the Intrepid. Talon could see the shifting tides of rock, read what was about to happen and in an instant, made what some may have described as a reckless call.
"Engines, all ahead full. Put this ship between the Republic Cruiser and the Intrepid. Redirect shield power eighty percent to port."
"Aye sir!" Came the call, but as the Prosecutor lurched beneath him Talon felt the doubt of the crew in his gut, it was as if the ship itself were questioning him. His ship was battered, almost broken, her wounds still lay open to space and she groaned with every effort. Tough as she was, and even with redirected shields, could she hope to stand against even a crippled cruiser? But worse than that, if those Y wings double backed and struck the starboard side or rear, it would be over in minutes. But, if it saved the Intrepid, it would be worth it.

Still, as much as he trusted in the Prosecutor's thick hide and the skill of her crew, he knew better than to believe her to be invincible. That kind of arrogance belonged to the last generation of Imperial officers, and it had lost them an Empire.
"Get me the Harrier!" He commanded, and was confronted with the holographic image of a storm trooper officer that he had to assume was Jan. "Prosecutor to Harrier. Status Report."
"Had some local trouble, situation resolved and under control. No damage from this battle." Talon did not have time to waste on follow up questions to that cryptic statement, instead he focused on the task at hand.
"The Prosecutor is taking up a position close in to the port side of the Intrepid. You are to follow on and take up a position to the Port side of the Prosecutor." Jan seemed to look to the side, as if being told something by men just out of view.
"The men here are telling me that damn beast of a ship is about to have a shot on that location."
"That's exactly why you are going there. Your port side is almost entirely intact, whilst that cruiser has lost most of its guns. Your armour is thick enough and shields are strong enough to take it."
"Take it?" Replied Jan with a hint of incredulity. "We have no guns Commander, they are all deactivated and no crew. No one to do damage control if it goes wrong and no ability to return fire. That cruiser will get the better of us eventually!"
"Yes, eventually." Pressed Talon, with certainty in his voice. "But that cruiser isn't going to last long enough for that to happen. I will see to that." Even without the ability to see Jan's face, Talon could almost feel the doubt. But Talon was the commanding officer, that was all that mattered. What was more, Jan knew enough about the limits of his own abilities to realise that Talon knew far more about naval combat than he did. So, after only a moment's pause Jan replied.
"Aye aye sir. But we are limping here. It will be a few minutes before the ship is in position."
"The Prosecutor will stand until you get there Harrier. Just be as quick as you can. Prosecutor out!"

Talon did his best to give the image of the unflappable officer, unmoved and undaunted by the tides of battle. He knew that if he broke, the ship would break. But none of that stopped him from unconsciously biting the inside of his cheek in worry as the first few rounds from the Republic craft struck the Intrepid, even as his face remained motionless. At full burn it was not long until the Prosecutor inserted itself in the gap. Her starboard guns now providing close support to the Intrepid, whilst her port guns returned fire on the Republic cruiser.
"Focus fire on her guns, all port batteries to start with the largest remaining main gun and work down from there. In the event multiple guns of the same class remain, start with those with the broadest fire arcs!" He watched his guns swing to bear on their new targets, the Prosecutor's ion cannons playing merry hell with the cruiser's shields, before traditional turbolasers hit home with unerring accuracy. The approach was clinical, the precision surgical. The Empire had suffered for their focus on large ship warfare against a fighter centric foe. But at times like this Talon was glad for superior Imperial gunnery and hard drilling. But he could not help but wish for just a little Mon Calamari engineering, as ugly as it was, when he felt the Prosecutor shudder and strain under his feet.

Suddenly the world went red, the burning glow of a Republic turbolaser shot engulfed the transparasteel view ports of the bridge and all at once Talon could only feel searing heat and a thousand stabbing pains in his face. The sheer concussive force of the explosion sent him to the deck before the deafening blast even reached his ears. In an instant the explosion reversed itself as the atmosphere was wrenched violently into the cold vacuum of space. Talon's vision was all black, white, and red, but he could feel his body being torn along the deck. By instinct he flailed out with his hands, grabbing at shapes he could not see, impotently clutching at nothing until his desperate fingers caught the lip of a crew pit and hung on for dear life. He felt his shoulder pop at the sudden force, as the will to live battled against the uncaring might of space. He could hear the cry of a crewman fly overhead as the man was sucked out into the black, only for Talon to feel his own wrist grabbed by someone in the crew pit, with a grip so tight it felt like it could shatter his bones.

The desperate maelstrom ended in only a few short seconds, with the heavy thud of the emergency blast shielding slamming into place, restoring something approaching normality. Over the groans of wounded men, before even rising to his feet, Talon called out.
"Report!" He could hear the sound of boots unsteadily staggering back and forth as crewmen made for their stations.
"Bridge strike sir… we've lost the window, but instruments appear unaffected. Showing no other damage from the hit sir!" Talon let out a quiet sigh of relief at that, only to feel a sudden stab of pain at the motion. Pushing himself up from the deck with a groan he brought a hand up to probe the strange feeling in his face, and instantly regretted it. Well over a dozen pointed pains stabbed at him, and he could feel jagged lumps against his palm. He knew what had happened, he had seen it before. Fragments of the window had blasted against him. His clothes were enough to protect the rest of his body, but not his face. But despite their number, and the moist warmth of blood washing over his face, none of it was deep. Thank the stars for safety shatter.

Slowly opening his eyes, he silently begged that they be left untouched. His vision instantly turned crimson then black as blood ran into his eyes. He felt his heart tighten in his chest before his more sensible mind reminded him, he felt no pain in his eyes. It must have just been blood running from elsewhere. Gingerly, and with great care, he mopped his eyes clean with a finger. Blinking rapidly as the bridge came back into focus. His eyes darted around the room as soon as they could make the world out again. Training having become instinct he began assessing the damage. Breaches? None. Fire? None, good. Leaks? None. Exposed cabling? None…wounded? Scanning over his bridge crew there were a handful fewer than before, but those who were left appeared to have only very minor injuries or none at all. That was the thing about sudden decompression. You either survived with extraordinarily little injury or died. There was rarely an in between.

He began to raise his off arm to give an order, only for it to refuse to move, instead responding only with pain. He must have dislocated the thing when he grabbed on to the lip of the pit. Minor. For now he simply used his good arm to gently grasp the hand of the limp one and tug it behind his back. The movement hurt like a kicking groat but he pushed the pain down with a strained sneer.
"The Commander is injured!" Came the cry. "Take him to the medical bay!" But Talon was having none of it.
"I will not leave this bridge until the engagement is decided!" The whole bridge seemed to freeze for a moment at the force behind Talon's words. Even through the blood his eyes shone bright and his voice was stronger than it had been all day. They only moved again when Talon commanded. "To your posts!" Sending them dashing to their positions, whilst he turned to face the cold metal of what had once been their main window, imagination filling in what his eyes could no longer see.

The ship juddered and jolted beneath his feet as shot after shot struck the Prosecutor's battered hull.
"Multiple hull breaches in fore sections!" But despite the alarming news and recent bridge strike the alert was calm and professional. Talon's unwavering stubbornness to see this through was rubbing off on them.
"Are key systems effected?" Asked Talon, squinting through the blood.
"One turbo laser is inoperable, point defence coverage to the fore reduced by thirty percent!"
"Withhold repair crews, evacuate the effected section's and seal off the area." It twisted Talon's gut to give up that section of the ship for the remainder of the battle. But he did not need his guns as much as he needed his hide. Despite the legendary toughness of the Victory series, the Prosecutor's wounds were clear to see. She had borne the brunt of two frigates, squad after squad of fighter and bomber attacks, and two cruisers. True, neither cruiser had been able to bring her true force to bear, but they were still cruisers. Even with the emergency bridge blast shields in place, Talon could still see in his mind the ragged shape of his ship, from cosmetic burns and minor dents to open wounds, exposed internal structure and inoperable sections. Talon was less concerned with firepower, but far more preoccupied with the possibility of his ship being cripplingly damaged or outright destroyed by a few lucky hits. Ultimately, all he needed was a somewhat intact hulk of metal with a functioning hyperdrive to stand between the Intrepid and the Republic cruiser. Guns were a luxury, and he would assign his already stretched repair crews accordingly.

But, battered as she was, the Prosecutor still had a bite. Her starboard guns, sheltered from the enemy cruiser, had set up an effective crossfire with the neighbouring Intrepid, catching the Republic craft in a net of imperial green laser fire which swept up the overextended ships like fish. Y wings erupted like distant fireworks, their cartwheeling carcasses throwing off burning fuel and detonating munitions into space. The Intrepid had not escaped unharmed, smoke trailed from her top deck as she drifted gently through the void despite having escaped the worst of the cruiser fire and the snub fighter assault. It served as an all too real reminder that not every ship could weather a beating like the Prosecutor. But Talon's rapid intervention had ensured that her core systems remained functional. Meanwhile, the Prosecutor's port side guns were still trading shots with the New Republic cruiser. Both ships were heavily damaged, a pair of exhausted punch-drunk boxers trading ever weaker blows across space. But despite the colossal damage inflicted on the Mon Calamari ship by the asteroids, it was still a bout Talon feared the Prosecutor would lose.

Glancing at a holographic display of the battle Talon could see the Harrier slowly shifting into place, its crippled sub light engines barely able to move the craft's colossal bulk. This was starting to take too long, if the Republic was able to call in even minor reinforcements from a nearby area this would all be over. Suddenly a colossal judder ran through the Prosecutor, far greater than the shakes and tremors of previous shots smacking into her hull. Several nearby crew stations started buzzing in alarm as the ship shivered in pain.
"Deep penetration. Damage to primary core section. Fire in the core chamber!"
"Dispatch repair teams! Is the core functional?" Directed Talon, almost before his crewman had finished speaking.
"Aye sir, core is functional. But that could change at any moment!" If the core ceased to function… Best case scenario the safety kicked in and it shut down safely, but they would still be stranded here and at the mercy of whatever Republic ships came next. Worst case, it blew, and incinerated the Prosecutor with all hands lost. The sensible thing to do would be to enter hyperspace immediately, whilst they still could, perform a short jump and try to make repairs in dead space. But not only was that still a risky option, but it would leave the rest of the flotilla extraordinarily vulnerable, strand his TIE pilots and that Republic craft would still be able to get a fix on his trajectory. No matter the state of his core, just as Talon would not leave the bridge, the Prosecutor would not leave the field.

Turning his attention to the holographic display once more, Talon focused on the cluster of signals that was the dog fight between the Republic scout wing and the Imperial TIE compliment. The battle was not yet over, and though his pilots possessed the clear advantage, the skies were not yet secure. But the Harrier was too slow, and his core was on fire. There was no more time to wait.
"All ships, launch all bombers. Target and destroy the MC 80!" As one the flotilla disgorged its meagre compliment. The bomber squadrons may have been the most intact section of the TIE fleet, but without the Harrier's pilots their numbers were still low. But it was all they had.

With the Republic fighters distracted their initial path to the cruiser was largely clear of enemy fire. But Talon's gravity well gambit had instead put a dense field of shifting asteroids and star ship debris in their path, well beyond the usual hazards presented by such a phenomenon. To make matters worse, TIE bombers were not the most agile craft in the skies. Taking advantage of the lack of enemy fire and the good cover provided by the drifting cloud of rock and shattered metal, the bombers throttled back and began moving through the field with a patience and care rarely seen in live combat.

It was a creeping pace that rendered them extremely vulnerable to fighter intercept, such easy targets a first week recruit would be tossed out of training for missing them. As it turned out this was simply too tempting of an opportunity to pass up for some of the engaged X wings, who broke off from the fight in an effort to intercept the crawling bombers. Mannis saw their ID signals closing on the bomber formation and found himself mentally grunting in frustration at the fact the bombers had been dispatched when the skies were not yet clear. But one glance at the Prosecutor told him why Talon had given that order.
"Phantom 4 and Phantom 7, break off and follow me!" Ion engines flaring Mannis tore after the X wings, executing sharp and sudden turns as he did so to evade the red bolts of Republic fighters taking pot shots at the normally easy target of a withdrawing ship.

His targets had a head start, but an interceptor could out pace an X wing any day of the week. With the signature hoarse roar of a TIE, Mannis tore after the Republic craft. His prey caught sight of him as he closed, alas too late for one pilot who was caught squarely in a burst of quad cannon fire that tore through his shielding like a storm and turned his craft into raging ball of fire and steaming metal. The fight rapidly descended into a series of tail chases, with the X wings making for the asteroids as best they could whilst desperately trying to avoid the TIE's locked onto their sixes. But by then, the rebels were simply delaying the inevitable. Short of superior pilot ability, there was no realistic way for an X wing to outrun or out turn an interceptor. And with too few of them to effectively execute counter intercepts, it was just a matter of time.

In desperation one X wing hurtled into the dense field of rock and metal that was slowly pounding the stubborn Republic cruiser. Without hesitation Mannis dove in after him, he would not allow even one snub fighter to threaten the slowly advancing bombers. Navigating even a standard asteroid field at full speed was a daunting task. But as the gravity well sucked in more and more material the danger only increased, and the space for manoeuvre dwindled. To make matters worse Mannis had to correct for the gravitational disturbance at every turn making an already dangerous chase positively reckless. But Mannis did not show a moment's uncertainty. A former member of Death Squadron would not be put off by mere rocks and metal. Darting through the debris his feet did not so much press the control pedals as dance with them whilst his hands seemed to be playing a musical instrument rather than jerking around a hulking lump of mass-produced machinery. Occasionally he would let off a burst of fire, the X wing in front of him was veering about almost as wildly as Mannis was, the chances of landing a hit were slim. But it was pressure, panic, a distraction. He did not need to hit the ship, he needed to keep its pilot sweating. With each moment the rebel pilot flew closer and closer to disaster, pulling away from obstacles at the last possible moment whilst Mannis took controlled turns well in advance. Eventually the inevitable happened, as Mannis knew it would, and the X wing dashed itself upon the rock, crumpling like paper before cartwheeling off to join the ever-growing cloud of debris that was pelting the Mon Calamari ship. With the sky safe from enemy fighters Mannis elegantly pirouetted his interceptor out of the asteroid field and into the relative safety of open space, as the bombers made their run.

Under more normal circumstances, the broken hulk that was the MC80 cruiser might already have been abandoned. But escape pods would simply smash against the rocks, whilst shuttles and small craft would be swept up by fighters. There was nowhere for the crew to run, so they would fight. And in a display of resolve and dedication that Talon could not help but respect, as long as even one gun was operational that cruiser was determined to make the Empire pay. But her spine was already broken, her shields flickering and failing, shards of rock lancing through her like spears. Even without the TIE bomber attack, the gravity well continued to draw in debris to smash against her rent hull. Like the Prosecutor many of her wounds were open to space. She was a bloodied and beached shark. Doomed, but still dangerous.

Her laser cannons and anti-fighter defences were as patchy as her main guns, and the bombers had little difficulty slipping through her defensive screen. The TIEs pounded at the yawning gashes in her skin, sending proton torpedoes deep into her innards, where they exploded with such force that sections of the great cruiser's hull would blow out from the inside in an unfolding pillow of fire and molten metal. Soon secondary explosions began to take hold, culminating in a geyser of burning reactor material as the primary core ignited with such force and heat as to vaporize fuel, container and shielding alike. The sheer scale of the concussive blast rippled the cruiser's reinforced hull like water before tearing her to pieces, scattering like leaves in the wind. The ship's foremost section still held some integrity. Hurtling end over end she used the last scrap of power that lay in her circuits to fire one final shot at the Prosecutor before slamming into an asteroid and breaking like a wave upon the cliffs.

Talon could see the display on feeds from the ship's sensors. That final shot lingered in his mind. Rather than panic, rather than run, weep or despair, that crew used its last moment to spit at him in a final act of defiance. Even as death took them, they kicked. Perhaps he had given these Republic crews too little credit. He had always known this was going to be a long fight against increasing odds. But rarely had the inevitable bitterness of the struggle been made so plain to him. The realisation twisted his stomach.
"Recall all fighters. Lay in pre programed course E3. The flotilla will enter hyperspace at rating four as soon as all craft are aboard."

It was not long before the flotilla entered hyperspace. Having destroyed their pursuers and the main scout force they at last had an opportunity to make a break for the main fleet. Only time would tell if Talon's gambit had worked, it was a narrow window of opportunity even now. But it could be done. He had expected to feel something close to jubilant, or at least relieved. But as he left the bridge and made his way down to the medical bay, he just felt tired, and heavy. Perhaps, he just needed some time to rest.