RP Log: Battle of Bothawui (25 ABY)

As the strike force is getting into position, Lt. Commander Brand aboard the Rapier gives the command, "Now." And with that, the transport ship running ahead of them jumps out of hyperspace. The Corellian commander's reaction is not pleasant, nor is he appearing as collected as he was the last time he was here. Today, he knew he was going to see combat for sure.

From what appears out of nowhere, in the quiet space around Bothawui, a New Republic transport appears, all on its own.

The arrival of a single transport, unscheduled though it may be, is not a cause for immediate concern to the Imperial Navy. It is the privilege of a nearby Vigil-class corvette to hail the arriving vessel.

"Unidentified vessel. This is the Imperial Navy vessel /Sentry/. You have entered a category two enforcement zone. Reduce your engines to one quarter speed and make your heading one-zero-zero mark two-five-five mark zero zero zero to vacate the jump zone. Prepare to submit your license, manifest and flight plan for inspection."

The ship sends no response to the request, instead continuing on its path. However, after it moves a little ways, the ship is no longer alone. Argon has given the second order to unjump, and a small squadron of two MC-40 cruisers, three Corellian Gunships, some fighters, and some other transports appear in the jump zone, aiming to get as close to the spaceport as safely possible. Argon turns to his temporary XO, "Ready the trigger for the transport. They won't fall for it too easily."

"Unidentified vessel, this is your final warning." the Vigil-class transmits. The rumours about Imperial belligerence in the sector are evidently true. Repeating the previous instructions, the comms officer appends "...if you do not comply, you will be fired upon."

The message is rather moot point, as moment's later the sensors officer is on his heels. "Multiple contacts, close range. Two cruisers, a dozen corvettes and a full wing of fighter escorts!"

The Lieutenant in command of the corvette may not be a terribly inventive man, but he knows his proceedures. "Sound general quarters. Angle starboard deflectors and signal the Responder. Sensors, identify those ships! I want useful intelligence to report!"

Argon scowls as the Vigil-class ship is already present. He turns to his communications officer, "Dispatch this order, fire at will." With that he braces himself in his seat, ready for the hell that is bound to ensure. He looks to the XO and says, "If that fireship gets anywhere close to an enemy vessel that poses more of a threat and isn't that Vigil, and it's clear of us, blow it up. Now it's almost more of a liability than an asset."

Commander William Roice stands nursing a cup of caf at the broad forefront of the /Responder's/ bridge, looking out through tessellated viewports, along the grey wedge that offers the only real point of reference and into the infinite vastness of space. Beside him, a young ensign delivers the previous watch's shipping activity report. "You know, when I was a boy..." the salt-and-pepper haired man relates to his junior, interrupting the details of a Talz mining frigate redirected away from the system for failure to submit a satisfactory flight record. "...all I could imagine was a command of my own."

The officer's reverie, and whatever context it might have had is abandoned as a briskly marching officer of the watch makes his way down the gantry. "Sir! Reports of multiple sensor contacts in sector five. Initial intelligence indicates a Rebel battle group - two cruisers, a twelve corvettes and full strike-fighter escort.

"At last..." Roice murmurs to himself, knuckles rapping on the transparisteel. "...they make their move."

"Sound general quarters! Intercept course!" Roice barks, turning on his heel and marching briskly toward the commander centre. The damned fish-man wasn't abord. This was HIS time to shine. "Launch all fighter wings, put planetary defences on notice and inform Captain Cror of the Remorseless. Order all ships in range to form up on the Responder."

A Venator-class cruiser is not a wieldy vessel, but its powerful port engines burn bright and the battleship begins to swing about."

A couple of blasts emit from the Rapier's turbolasers soon reduce the Vigil to ash. Argon snorts, "Figured as much." Seeing the Venator on scanners, the Corellian commander barks out to the bridge, "Move to engage with that ship. Have our other cruiser and fighters begin escorting the transports. The CorGuns and us will clear the way. Blow that transport up, we're going to be closing too much closer to it to risk damaging ourselves. Maybe it will distract the Imp." With that, the XO presses the button.

The fireball that consumes the hapless shell of a transport is impressive up close, but from the distant vantage of the Responder it is no more than the brighter of the two flashes signalling the violent loss of vessels.

"Full power to forward deflector screens." Roice orders as he steps into the command suite - holotable flickering into life to provide him an overview of the battle. "Signal our escorts to form a mobile picket. Flight controller, deploy our interceptors between the two lines and engage any rebel fighter crossing the threshold.

The Republic cannot have avoided noticing - the Imperial squadrons are beginning to pull together and as matters stand, it looks as though both forces will crash into one another head long.

As the Imperials get into formation quickly enough, Argon grumbles and mutters a handful of curses under his breath. Turning to the communications officer, he says, "Tell Captain Cen that sooner is going to be better than later." To the navigator he grumbles, "Looks like we are going to need to punch through this for the transports. We will have the CorGuns screen us from fighters, we will focus on the cruiser. That should give us the time and room we need to get those transports in. Not sure how long we can hold it open, though. But it is the best we can do." Argon finally turns to the weapons and shield officers, "I want all of our shield power up facing that cruiser, and guns to be going as soon as they are in range. At best we destroy them, at worst, maybe we can be enough of a distraction."

The Remorseless is on the other side of the planet. Even with micro-jumps it would take at least fifteen minutes for her to manoeuvre into combat range. The Responder is alone.

"We have confirmation on the cruiser signals, sir." the sensors officer reports as the two forces close. "Two Mon-Cala Forties. Light cruisers. No match for us at long range, but their ion cannons could present a threat if they can enter range. No word yet on the corvette signals, the Sentry went down with all hands. Identification is pending visual range."

Roice's hands find a comfortable nook in the small of his back. "Steady as she goes, helm. We'll meet the Rebel fleet head on. Close to seventy kilometers and hold position. All batteries, target the cruisers."

Argon winces as the Imperial ship lets loose its barrage at the Rapier, though only one finds its way to the ship. Fortunately, the shields are able to weather the blast. After the barrage ends he roars at the weapons office, "Are you daft? Fire back! Bring them down!" The angry commander is clearly ready to do this.

The opening volleys perform much as expected, turbolasers at extreme range streak out beams of green and red fire, flashes in the distant the void signal impacts on deflectors.

"One direct hit...no damage." The weapons officer reports, the bridge momentarily awash with light as return fire achieves much the same.

"All batteries, fire for effect on the lead cruiser. Punch through their deflectors." Roice issues the calm command. "Helm, get this line moving. Seventy kilometers and hold position."

With a bright roar of engines, the Imperial battle line advances. "Draw back the picket to a rear guard position. Cover our broadsides and issue authorisation to break formation and give chase if the rebels scatter. Nothing gets through."

Argon frowns as the barrage accomplishes nothing, though not upset at the recent Imperial attack failing. "Keep advancing. No way that we will be able to do this easily, but maybe we have to keep trying." He leans forward in his seat and awaits his own cannons to try and punch away at the opposing Venator.

The Vigil-corvettes begin to pull back, dimming drive's lowering their output and allowing the cruiser to overtake them. The shields around the Responder flash brightly as another barrage of turbolaser fire scatters around it, and at the tactical station an alarm sounds. "Direct hit received, sir. No damage to the hull, shields down to three quarters power. Ion cannons in range."

"Return fire!" Roice roars, calm demeanour slipping as he brings a fist down upon the holotable, causing the display to jump and tear for a moment before it snaps back into focus.

Argon grins as there appears to be some effect, though not much from his shot, "Excellent, keep up the assault." As the most recent barrage rattles the Rapier, the sheilds operator calls out, "Direct hit, shields are weakening." Argon scowls and syas, "Well, keep them up as long as you can. And let's return the favor!" Sadly this is cut short as the ship's power dies off, effectively dead in the water.

A barrage of turbo-laser fire streaks across Saber's prow, breaching the hull across several decks. Its engines flare brightly as she begins to take evasive action - keen not to be follow her sister ship into helplessness.

The Rapier goes dark - literally. Its running lights wink out, leaving it a cold hulk propelled only by its established momentum toward the Imperial line.

"Direct hits, sir!" Sensors reports with an audible blood thirst in his voice. He rises from leaning over the two crewmen assigned to station, turning crispy toward Roice and offering congratulatory nod - never hurts to make friends with the up and ups. "The lead enemy cruiser is disabled and drifting. She is dead in space. The other has sustained significant damage and is attempting evasive maneuvers."

First blood, and not only a confirmed victory but a live capture to book. Roice smiles to himself. Aristov had better watch his back. "Lock tractor beams on the hulk. Bring it to a halt and continue firing on the second cruiser. Lieutenant...identify those corvettes. What're they up to?"

The Corellian Gunships see the Rapier go dark, but take an effort to try and keep it clean, as it would still be the focus of the cruiser. Seeing that, the three CorGun commanders order the ships to fire and begin positioning themselves to try and target the less-shielded parts of the cruiser.

The on-coming gunships loose their missiles. An antiquated weapon, they'd been largely abandoned by modern Imperial vessels - reserved for specialist use on older models like the Venator, as it was a trivial business to evade them while under way. Pity then, that Roice had adopted textbook doctrine and held his line static.

Thoughts of boyhood dreams return as the Responder shudders under the onslaught. Overconfidence or bad fortune, it'd all go down as hubris in the end.

Warheads rip through the hull of the Venator - tearing decks in twain. All across the ship panels spew sparks as bulkheads buckle and vac-seals rupture. Klaxons sound critical hull breach but its too late to do anything about it.

Time seems to slow.

Roice looks around the faces of his bridge officers. The Lieutenant at the sensor station, still beaming with pride at their live capture of the Rapier. The tactical officer mid-comm congratulating the gunnery officers. Navigation and communications coordinating from their stations. Good men, one and all.

"Abandon sh..." the words never make it past his lips. An explosion tears through the bridge moments before two more tear the Responder in half. Forty four years a veteran of galactic war, of loyal service and she is slain in a mere moment.

The victory over the Responder is short lived, the Corgun crewmembers soon find themselves assaulted by the incoming Vigils, and in a hail of gunfire, the heroic effort of the three ships is ended as they are cut down in a ray of explosions and death. Argon sees this through the transparisteel and sinks back into his seat, his ship rendered useless, all he can do is observe he death he led this force into, and that will only result in a failure for the Republic, he believes.

The battle has lasted mere minutes, but already there is carnage. The Responder breaks apart, sporadic fires flaming out into vacuum, explosions rippling through the debris field as pockets of oxygen are consumed, and exposed munitions ignite

The Gallofree transports push through the broken line - there is no escape but making planetfall for them. The surviving Vigil corvettes turn to give chase. Faced with the loss of the mission, X-Wing pilots peel from their dogfights, two giving their lives to buy their comrades freedom to commence an attack run.

Three corvettes are cut down by the strike fighters, who pay for it with more of their own, fire rakes the transports, consuming two in brilliant explosions that scatter the shattered hulls across their formation's wake. Two more left crippled and helpless.

This had been a bloody struggle, but in the end the Republic pushes through. A scant half squadron of X-Wings flying close-escort for the pair of surviving transports.

The battles to come will be that much harder on account of the high price paid today. But because of valour and sacrifice, they will be fought.