21st of Selona Action

The engagement of the 21st of Selona, a rather plain name for what was turning out to be the biggest space battle in a long time, happened almost by accident. Starfighter patrols, the kind deployed by both the Empire and the Republic make sure no one would sneak up on them, from both sides had blundered into one another. This was not a rare occurence, but instead of breaking off after a victor was established, both sides started pouring more resources into the immediate area. Little by little, the vessels that were engaged grew until what had started as flights of fighters engaged in dogfights turned into Republican cruisers exchanging broadsides and missile bursts with Imperial Star Destroyers. The battle had drifted a little from where it had commenced, but the Corell star could be seen faintly in the distance, though it was little more than an orange glow given how far it stood.

More Republican reinforcements joined in, at the heart of the newest wave stood the NRSC Rapier, a large cruiser and a new one by the looks of it. Already it had begun to disgorge its fighter screen, its ventral hangar opening up and spitting out its contingent of X-wings and bombers even as the cruiser oriented itself towards the Imperial line.

Long distance to Rasi and Han: Dante does a squeak of sound, "you want me to.. to.. against HAN? You want me to go up against HAN?"

Captain Valerius of the fleet's flagship in this sector, the Inquisitor, was on planet dealing with some important matters, leaving command of the bridge to a seasoned veteran named Commander Pakya Razem. The Commander sits in the Captain's chair on the bridge, directing the Inquisitor towards the battle. As a wounded Star Destroyer limps away, being beseiged by Y-Wings and X-Wings, its big brother the Inquisitor looms into view. Turbolasers fire green globs of white periodically through space, covering the retreat of the smaller capital ship.

Aboard the bridge, Lieutenant Barakzai sits behind the helm screen, the sensor and astrogation men sitting nearby. Being watched from the catwalks above the control pits, he hears the Commander's voice in his ear, as Barakzai's practiced hand guides the Inquisitor into the fray.

Han wasn't really expecting what he finds when he pulls the lever on the Hyperdriver to bring the Falcon back into realspace. The stars give way and suddenly there's blaster fire everywhere. The old Freighter bucks as it is nearly clipped by one of fire from both sides and Han immediately takes the ship into evasive manuevers, "CHEWIE! Get the shields up!" The ship rolls end over end and dips down into a straight dive down and into the oposite direction, a moments rest to get his barrings as his hand settles in white knuckled on the control yolks. "Okay what in the hell is going on out there..." To himself, in a mumble, as the bolts buck and twists with each yank of the controls.

A hand reaches out to bring up the communications, broadcasting on secure Republic frequencies, "Han Solo, of the Millenium Falcon in system. Respond and please stop shooting at me..."

Dante casually bangs her fist against the side of the panel that gives her the weapons stats waits for the HUD to fully load the live threat display along with pulling in all signatures of her squadron, the Imperial fleet along with position of the Republic ships in system. "Form up on me," she says calmly on channel and queues up the main task force channel, "Inquisitor, Razor squadron deploying now, we have the ball," she says as the squadron exchanges places with the initial squadron in system, fresh fighters and pilots to address the current scuffle.

Lt. Barakzai's mouth is set in a frown as he concentrates on the data fed to his console at helm. He is mindful of the fighters deploying, and of the fighters returning from the initial battle. He keeps the Inquisitor flowing forward at a quarter impulse, his calm hand making the Inquisitor move smoothly into the sweet spot where it can engage the nearest New Republic capital ship.

"Roger that, Razor Squadron," the Commander replies over the Imperial command and control frequency. "We are in place to support you with turbolaser." He's aggressive - perhaps too aggressive - but he knows that the rules of overwhelming firepower, the standard Imperial doctrine, dictates that he only uses the full power of the Inquisitor when in the best possible situation. And so far, they're not close enough, only half the turbolasers firing, taking potshots at nearby fighters. They want a fresh group ready to give the opening volley.

Civilian traffic can't always stop when battles are taking place, and the Millennium Falcon is not the only vessel zipping into the system as the battle rages. Because of the long tense standoffs here, traffic is light, but a minute or two after the Falcon drops to sublight, she and her pilots are followed from a different vector by a ship whose profile all factions could easily recognize -- a Republic Ferret-class reconnaissance vessel. At first glance, there are no Republic markings on it -- no colors, no phoenix. But the design is clear. This is new technology that would not yet be in the hands of privateers.

On board are a number of large felines, including one black-furred passenger. Chakuro leans forward as the streaks of hyperspace resolve into lines that are criss-crossed by brilliant flares of red and green. He frowns and looks to the pilot, brow furrowing, "fien obro tagg'r cizerak s'ktrr tagg'r evr'aal nyow m'tra merra" (speaking in Horansi)

Rasi stood at the bridge of his cruiser, the various displays and screens looked over occasionally, but the bulk of his attention was reserved for the large screen that stood at the centre of this whole area. The screen showed a grid with a variety of large and small dots, though only the larger ones were identified by names. "The Inquisitor.", he says, his voice wasn't raised, but it nonetheless carried to the right people, and the cruiser started quickly drifted towards the new arrival. Its engines flared brightly as it picked up speed, its forward batteries brought to life as a salvo was fired at the Star Destroyer's screening fighters to scatter them before engaging them. "Let the other vessels know that we will occupy the Inquisitor, they can concentrate their fire on other targets." There was something eerily familiar about this, it was only a little over a year ago that words similar to those were spoken, although the battlefield then was at Gyndine.

"Commander, we have a freighter that just jumped in, it's squawking its ID. Database shows it as the Millenium Falcon, Han Solo's at the ship.", Rasi nodded as the information was transferred and he requested that he be patched through the YT-1300. "Mr. Solo, I take it that this is Han Solo? You seem to be in the worst possible location you could have chosen to be in this system."

Her black-furred companion might not realize what he's looking at, but for the tall Horansi hybrid, the nightmare is immediately recognized for what it is. Golden eyes widening, Snal'Fashtalli bares her fangs as her ears flick backward and her whiskers bristle (along with her lashing tail...). "rouwwww growl" the former warrior and New Republic Marine snarls abruptly. The order is apparently an automatic one, as she hadn't been watching the pilot's board and doesn't know if they are already up or not. "errrrow tagg'r" she growls. "eerahhw meeorow erooowlll tala s'ktrr fien hithhhs c'lawwr errrrow ther'a ra anaraa merra growl onaai nyow abri cizerak fien enrrrroaow eerahhw" That said, she plops her bulk into the co-pilot's seat and activates the ship's weapons system, just in case it must be used in self-defense. The group of Horansi has no intention of getting in the middle of this furball on purpose.

Static on the comm brings her attention to it, and Snarl grimaces at the important point that she over looked. Activating their own communication link on the NR frequency, she growls 'Please leave us out of it, too. Independant non-combatants in good standing with the New Republic. Repeat, we are NOT combatants.' (speaking in Horansi)

"Chewie get on the turrets would ya?" The growling Wookie rolls out of the copilots seat and rushes towards the bigger, top mounted, guns and starts climbing the ladder. "I don't care if you don't fit.. Stop complaining, you're distracting me.." Which is only half true. It's quite possible Han could fly the Falcon with his eyes closed, in the middle of an astroid field. But when there's Inquisitors and Republic vessels pounding away at each other, it's not something he really wants to test fire.

THe foreward pronged nose of the Falcon drops down again, twisting in mid dive and coming back around towards the combat at a break neck speed that would send most pilots to the medbay, the old smuggler eats it with experienced twists of his body to compensate for the extra Gs and the hidden power of his bucket of bolts.

The comm lines come open, "I've seen worse.. While I'm here, I'll lend a hand, get some of these eyeballs off your fighters." He may have retired his commission, but he's still a go too when the Republic needs a pilot.. And it appears as if a squadron of Imperials might just be ripe for the pickings. "You set up there buddy? I know you're fingers are getting fat.." Smirking at the growled reply he knew was coming.

"She's coming toward us!" the sensors petty officer states with a bit of excitement, as the Rapier begins moving towards the Inquisitor. Commander Razem leans forward in his seat, still the model of cool professionalism. "Helm, adjust to three quarters impulse. Turbolaser banks two through four...Lock on, hold your fire." Multiple targeting alerts register with the Rapier, as the Inquisitor locks on.

Lt. Barakzai gently throttles up, increasing to the desired speed, and steering towards the Rapier. Its belly towards the Cruiser, only the top fourth of Turbolaser banks are firing, picking on fighters to support the TIEs. The remaining two thirds of the turbolasers don't fire, as they await the ideal distance to fire a devastating volley.

In the pilot's seat of the Republic recon ship, a large male Kasa goes briefly wide-eyed at the sight that unfolds before them, even as Snal'Fashtalli drops into the seat behind him and Chakuro operates the only technology he's familiar with: the seatbelt. After a brief shock, the Kasa Gienah clenches his jaw and reaches for the comm. He never expected to need it, but the curious natured feline had been briefed for it, just in case. "Nnew. Republic. Destroyer," each word spoken in Basic comes carefully pronounced as he tries to make muscles in his mouth form sounds they're not used to, "This is... scout ship Two Papa Three Mark Hotel X-Ray. We are d.... damaged. In need of assistance. Plea- pllleasse advice. Over." He turns to look at Snarl, almost at a loss, as if to ask whether he said that right.

Dante's squadron mates maneuver into position and are angling to change their approach vector even as the Rapier is firing at the initial bluff of their fighter screen, peeling off in all directions like birds scattering before a handful of pebbles thrown. Dante's orders are quiet and calmly voiced, having her men form up in fighting pairs, one to paint and one to fire, making their job as efficient and linear as possible. They've all heard the same speech countless times, Dante's favorite tag line being 'The Enemy Gate is Down' to remind her pilots that there is no 'Up' or 'Down' in space, all position is relative to target proximity and firing solution.

Word that the Millennium Falcon appears to be in the mix has several of her younger pilots talking excitedly on channel until she nips that in the bud with a quiet worded, "Enemy target is designated as a YT-1300, who ever gives me standard shield algorithms gets to take the first shot," which suffices to end the chatter while tables are being consulted and memories being pummeled. As the Inquisitor alters it's angle of approach she guides the squadron into a new position, changing their deployment config with each command, keeping the fighting wing agile and constantly in motion to foil 'easy attack pattern recognition'.

Snarl'Fashtalli blinks at Gienah a few times, torn between dismay and an odd desire to laugh. "Uh... the Imperials have Destroyers, I think," she rumbles. "The New Republic ship is a Cruiser." She shakes her head and manages to ID the Falcon, which is a ship that she actually does recognize... although the memories are a tad vague. "We need to try and avoid the Imperial ships and get to the planet," she rumbles. "We are not really up to fighting in space."

"Understood, if you want to help our X-wings keep their fighters off our back, that'd be great. We'll get you in contact with Ghost squadron, coordinate with them.", a brief nod from Rasi, and the comms officer did just that, putting the old freighter in touch with the much newer X-wings that protected the cruiser from the Empire's own fighters. There was no need for the Fondori to order his crew to maneuver key systems out of the way of the Inquisitor's fire, the crew acted on its own, the helms officer slowly pitching the cruiser's nose down and the blobs of superheated plasma harmlessly fly off or otherwise bounce off its shields.

"This is Rapier flight control, scout ship identity confirmed. Advise if you are able to get away from the battle under sublight engines scout ship?"

With Rasi's commands relayed to the rest of the cruisers and the two Republic-class Star Destroyers that made up the bulk of the Republic's capital ship force, the Republic armada began verging away from the Inquisitor, its fires concentrated on the other opposing vessels.

Chewie growls once he's got the big battery of quad lasers into position, "Good because there's a squadron coming up from aft. They're going V, try and win-" The ship rocks all around him, one of those shudders that always gets him a little nervous, "That wasn't suppose to happen.." Growling, "I /DID/ change the power couplings..." If they weren't arguing in the midst of a battle, it's very likely Han might actually lose..

The Falcon still responds to the controls, though. "Shut up and shoot the Imperials, I'm trying to fly down here."

"Roger that." To the command ship, switching to the fighter frequency, "Ghost Lead, this is Millenium Falcon. Squadron on my twelve, then I'll fly support for your defensive screen."

With a press of the throttle the old ship jumps forward with surprisingly agile grace for it's age.. Like some sort of Jenkins, ready to engage an entire squadron of Imperial Fighters.

Gienah tilts his head at Snal'Fashtalli. Oops!

The Prowler-class vessel, meanwhile, is a prime piece of technology. In all likelihood, any Imperial officer on any one of their ships could cross-reference its unusual configuration with Imperial intelligence records and quickly identify it as a prime target. The ship contains cutting edge technology -- possibly even technology the Empire hasn't yet developed. The visibly damaged vessel is accelerating toward the combat zone like the 5,000 point banana on a Pac-Man maze. With its long-range sensors engaged, it also has better visual accuity than even the lead Republic cruiser. Piping its sensor feed to the rest of the fleet could provide the Republic with a valuable overview of the battlefield. Stopping that feed could prevent the Republic from gaining said advantage.

Gienah looks back to the comm again from Snarl, "Y-yes. I believe we can get away. Co-pilot recommends landing on the planet. We are changing.. v-vector to three seven mark two six." Unfortunately, that vector is going to take them straight toward the Imperial half of the conflagration.

The pot shots at the Rapier fail to do any damage, but that was just a first try. Commander Razem watches the tactical reports, seeing the two ships getting closer to each other. "Get ready, banks two through four...Wait...Wait...Mark! Fire!" Then, there's a flurry of activity from the Inquisitor's unused turbolaser banks, just as it closes to the proper range for maximum damage. Green line after green line fires from the ship's underside at the Rapier, as Lt. Barakzai increases to full speed and attempts to pass by the Rapier with its belly to it, giving the turbolasers the chance to chew up the opposing vessel's shields.

"All fighters weapons free, I repeat: Weapons free," Dante says as her squadron reaches the outer arc of weapons range and lets the more experienced pilots in her squadron who are paired up with younger pilots take the lead on the initial brush. Half her wing peels off to skim around the defenses of the Inquisitor to ensure that no enemy combatants had slid behind their screen to harass the Inquisitor while it engages the Rapier. Dante remains in position from a central point in the attack axis, one eye on the portion of her flight that is circling around the Inquisitor and the other that's engaging the flight of Ghost squadron. One of the younger pilot sings out with the usual shield frequencies of a YT and pulls up ANY and all data they have from past encounters with the Millennium falcon and feeds that into their targeting computers for calculations to be made. "Alright, on me then," she orders as she passes the ball to her 2nd and forms up with the younger pilot who made the cut and angles her ship toward the Millennium Falcon. Her words of advice are not entirely the sort of stuff to write home about: "Don't second guess yourself, if you see a shot, take it. You can't hit if you don't swing."

Chewie in the quads takes potshots at passing TIEs while Han brings them in a duck and dive sort of approach between support vessels and lancing green and red turbolaser fire that lights up space all across his viewport. When the flight he was tracking begins to peel apart towards their various targets, the Falcon whips port to starboard and breaks in a wide arc that puts the big lasers in prime position to unload with the structure shaking barrage.

Han grinds his teeth as his white knuckled hands pull the controls intime to level out, reaching over to the consoles to throw off shield spikes in topside position to strengthen them on his exposed flank. Instinct, experience, and unmatched knowledge of his ship allows the quick adjustments in the midst of a cork-screw turn, like a Sandpeople herding their Bantha. "Get ready, Buddy, it's about to get dramatic.."

"Acknowledged scout ship, we will send you coordinates and when near the planet, we can send you an escort to make sure you don't fall into enemy hands. Please advise if situation changes. In the meantime, we will feed your sensors our telemetry, that may help keep you away from Imperial fighters. Rapier flight control out."

Rather than wait for the Inquisitor to pass them by, leaving the cruiser open to its ventral batteries without the ability to respond, the Rapier angles itself off towards port, the ship quickly drifting left(by capital ship standard anyway) and beginning to draw away from the Star Destroyer's field of fire. "Prepare to turn us around, prepare a salvo from all missile tubes, aim it at the Inquisitor's engines, let's cripple them." It would be quite a move to cripple and take the Empire's flagship, but at the least it would keep the Star Destroyer from turning about to aid other Imperial vessels against the Republican assault.

While not the most astute pilot in the world, Snal'Fashtalli belatedly notices something about Gienah's intended vector. "You *may* want to rethink that," she rumbles at him. "I am not sure we want to fly AT the Imperial fleet. Unless you want this ship to end up looking like prey that a pack of cubs went at with blunt speartips, that is..."

Inside the cockpit, seated behind the pilot and copilot, Chakuro blinks. His Basic is far below proficient, but he can only /hope/ he misunderstood her analogy. Lifting his intent azure eyes to the forward viewport, he quickly assesses that he did not.

Gienah, meanwhile, figures out the same thing and utters a growl that doesn't need translation. "Republic cruiser," he calls into the comm yet again, "We cannot get to the p-planet sssurface. Our power levels are too low. We will not get through and do not havvfe enough power to go around." His jaw clenches again as he has to make a decision, "I am changing vector again, to your location. Request ch-your permission to l-land. ETA five m-minutes."

The five minutes will be a lifetime. They're still many kilometers from the Republic vessel that's now their target, and they'll have to fly into the main furball to reach it.

"That's right, helm, don't let them get us," Commander Razem says tensely over the ship's tactical band. The Inquisitor performs a half aileron roll, twisting through space as Satar operates the various maneuver thrusts and retros. Now with its flank to the Rapier as Satar simultaneously pulls around the Rapier, Lt. Barakzai denies the Rapier a shot at the engine. Turbolasers fire, falling into an orderly procession to maximize fire suppression of the enemy ship. Keep nicking at it, don't let them breath.

The sensors chief, during this tense moment that the ship's gravity controls hide from most of the crew, announaces, "We have a rebel vessel, damaged, trying to make a run for the planet." Razem smiles - he just might get a prize from this battle. He switches to the C&C frequency the fighters can hear, and announces, "Razor squadron, we are dispatching a boarding party for that damaged scout ship. Please escort them to their destination." A small, blockish transport leaves the Inquisitor, heading towards Chakuro's ship with the laser cannon on the top firing blue beams.

Dante's flight trajectory brings her in a spiraling arc toward the Falcon, indeed doing a twisty turvey cork screw turn like maneuver (no Imperial would ever compare their attack style to Banthas being herded by Sandpeople, of course, we'll say 'whirling dirvish' instead) and opens fire once her fighter does a deft twist that has her firing even as she slides past the Falcon from several healthy ship lengths away. Her wingman is holding on to his nerves with every ounce of his well trained being, though she can hear him swearing quietly on their joined channel. "Steady," she says calmly, performing another pivot, essentially flying 'upside down' at the moment as her wingman takes a aim at the Falcon and fires off a quick burst of weapons fire.

"Acknowledge, Inquisitor, Wil-Co," she replies on channel even as she passes the instructions on to the portion of her wing that had taken up station around the Inquisitor to prevent any of Ghost squadron from slipping through. There's no help for it but to recall the initial wing to strengthen their defense's on screen duty and pares her wing down even further, peeling off two fighters from the screen protecting the Inquisitor and two from the flight engaged in a mutual slug fest with Ghost. The four ships, so designated, move away from the main engagement and angle toward the damaged scout ship while waiting for the shuttle to emerge from the hangar to bring the boarding party out. A quick and blunt exchange of dialogue between pilots boils down to a determination of the best way to disable and not destroy the target as they move ever closer to same.

Han spies the fighters pealing off on an intercept with the damage scout ship, "Chewie, knock out one of those fighters.. I can't break off yet, but try an-" His words cut off as the nervous Imperial wingman takes a shot that would lance across the typical pilots bow. A freighter, even a Corellian Freighter, was never ment to move the way the Falcon does. And most pilots couldn't make it, besides.

The forward clamps of the old YT drop on a dime, instinctive motions of the smuggler's quick hands, disappearing the hefty target out of line of the younger of the two Imperial's engaged on him. Then immediately back up, twisting over to starboard in a tight pin turn to angle the forward lasers banks at the tailing fighter, firing smaller twin lasers after the young pilot. The Falcon's shields sizzle, because they are most certainly not stock, actually more like capital grade, but Han's philosophy is always 'dont get hit'. So far that's working, but even he can't make a freighter a fighter... even if he's trying really hard to do so.

The Quad lasers recoil with a 'boom boom' at one of the breaking fighters headed for the Scout vessel, Chewie doesn't really need to be told by Han how to engage them.. And Han tells him even though he knows that.

The long, narrow Prowler-class recon ship is approximately four times the size of an X-Wing fighter and shaped very much like a speeder bike. Unfortunately, it doesn't have a speeder's maneuverability, and in her damaged condition, the ship is missing its usual speed, as well. Its only saving graces are twofold. Its HX designation means the ship has a slight modification from the basline -- a mounted weapons turret with twin cannons. And among the vanguard technology it carries, the chemical thrust engines and baffled drives make it exceptionally difficult for sensors to pick up -- meaning that targeting the little ship is going to be a royal pain. Then again, fighter pilots use instinct, not targeting computers.

"Snal'Fashtalli," Gienah calls in his native language, "Four enemy ships have changed direction toward us. Go to the turret! Chakuro, I will need you at Snal'Fashtalli's station." The ebony Mashi seated behind them frowns and starts to unbuckle his harness. They really /must/ be joking!

Freed of the threat posed by the Inquisitor, the Star Destroyer occupied by the smaller cruiser and unable to punch through it to get back to the main battle, the Republican capital ships were pushing back their Imperial counterparts. While the Imperial line was well in the fight, the advantage was not with it as heavy damage was being dealt to it.

"Send a few fighters to cover that scout ship, the Empire cannot be allowed to capture it." Rasi's words were uttered even as he frowned, the man's brows drooping for a brief moment, his cruiser wasn't able to get into prime firing position, but at least no serious damage was being dealt by the Inquisitor. "Fire all missiles.", he said, watching as a handful of blips appeared on the screen beside the Rapier before streaming towards the circle that represented the Imperial ship.

"Scout ship, this is Rapier control. Permission granted to come towards us, watch out for the Star Destroyer's fire. We're sending you help to cover your approach, but the Empire has also sent a boarding party, you may have to engage them in hand-to-hand combat if they reach you before you land."

A heavy sigh can be heard coming from Snal'Fashtalli as she unfastens her harness, "I was meant to fight with claws and swords. WHY is it that I so often get stuck trying to use kimach energy weapons?" Still growling under her breath, the former Marine swarms up to occupy the torret space like a one feline army. "Do not expect any miracles!" she snarls into the comlink occupying her right ear as she takes her place and swivels to face the incoming fighters before taking a potshot to test her aim.

The missiles slam into the Inquisitor's shields, doing heavy damage to them as Razem shouts, "Dammit, Helm, what are you doing?!" Lt. Barakzai shuts out all the voices, charging straight at the Rapier. The turbolaser batteries flicker off, as in another pit, the gunnery control officer frowns at the frantically working shields petty officer.

The shuttle moves towards the damaged scout, firing back at the Millenium Falcon as it moves into range, quickly overtaking the ship's damaged engines with its healthy, tip top engine condition.

As soon as Snarl is out of her seat, Chakuro drops into it and quickly harnesses himself back in. Spirits know he's been thrown around enough cockpits to at least remember his seatbelt. "Be careful!" he calls back to Snarl in their language as she heads for the turret.

It's a good thing he'd thought about the harness. Very quickly, the damaged scout ship starts to shake with the pounding of incoming Imperial fire. "Chakuro, you're on shields and tactical while I fly," Gienah instructs in Horansi. Unfortunately, the Mashi is almost completely without knowledge of how the technology works and looks plainly lost. Growling, Gienah points at a screen, "THAT ONE!" More fire rocks the small ship as Chakuro frantically tries to comprehend the vast array of switches surrounding just /that screen/.

Dante's wingman lets out a shout of sound as his weapons fire sizzle off of the shields of the Falcon, for even hitting the shields is something he'll brag about forever. Dante's brief, and fierce, grin is all about squadron pride and is careful to keep it from coloring her tone of voice as she gives calmly voiced instructions to bring him around for another pass, bouncing more weapons fire toward the Falcon as well as her wingman spins in a tight arc and fires at the Falcon from the opposite trajectory, trying to flank the Falcon with weapons fire.

The weapons fire from the Quad lasers impacts the aft shields of one of the trailing fighters, sending the pilot into a brief but violently intent dance to control the ship as the engine damage is blaring on all horns and the annoying computer voice is reciting the tally of damaged systems. The fighters wingman flips his fighter around, firing upside down at the Falcon before doing a snap roll to level out, the two of them falling out of formation while the first pilot tries to bypass the damage or stagger back to the barn, wounded bird style.

The comm chatter that Dante picks up from the Inquisitor has her changing the assignment of her squadron again, shifting the bulk of the fight away from Ghost and back to provide more of a defensive screen for the Inquisitor. "Inquisitor, redeploying Razor, inbound now, will be withing defensive sphere of the weapons systems within a matter of moments. Please advise, shield and weapons status, Sir?"

"Send in Falcon squadron.", the A-wings had been kept in reserve for a moment when the enemy ship would be at a disadvantage and with the Rapier's superior maneuvering keeping it out of serious trouble so far, the cruiser's commander smelled blood. "Pour everything we have towards it, I want the Inquisitor's shields down before our A-wings hit it." That is, if the small, nimble fighters of Falcon squadron can even get to it. It would be up to Ghost's X-wings to make certain that the enemy Ties were occupied enough.

Dagger Squadron, the cruiser's compliment of bombers was busy elsewhere as Rasi had sent it to reinforce the Republican forces engaging the other Imperial vessels, and they were making short work of them too. In more ways that one, the wider battle seemed to mirror the engagement between the Star Destroyer and the Rapier, the ebb and flow of the wider battle tracking how their smaller battle went.

With the Inquisitor heading straight for them, the Rapier's engines flared once more as it was pitched towards starboard this time, and already its forward and right batteries began to open up, a barrage of turbolaser fire directed at it to soften it up before the A-wings get there, if they even could.

Chewie continues pounding off shots of the quad lasers, even as the Falcon starts to twitch all around him. The shields are still at full and none of the lights on the board are lit. Han's eyes peel up from the consoles and out the forward viewport, just intime for the second pass of lasers to skim entirely too close. Barely twisting the controls to take him out of the line of fire.

Rattling beneath his hands, the controls are jumping and bounding, and at that very moment.. that precise, specific, time... the board goes red. Chewie unstraps himself and comes down the ladder, rushing towards the maintenance hatch without even being told to do so... Since Han is far to busy trying to control the Falcon, putting everything into keeping her from being blistered as system after system goes offline. "Lock it down, Chewie!" He shouts back over his shoulder, barely managing to twist his beloved ship with a sluggishness that has his teeth grinding.

With TIEs on his tail, Han draws the ship closer to the proximity lasers of the Rapier, using them for cover against any further persuit. "Republic Flag, this is Han Solo. Critical issues, I'm temporarily out of the fight.." Admitting that his ship, perhaps like him, might be 'too old' is something he'll never 'ever' say out loud.. but for the first time in twenty years, it occurs to him. "Come'on girl... I promise, full overhaul, jus thold together."

Commander Razem's hand grips his chair arm with white knuckles, as he commands the ship. "Helm, /now/!" Lt. Barakzai, at the precise moment the enemy's weapons are about to fire, pitches the ship downwards, showing the Rapier the dorsal profile - a large wedge. Since it was the underside's shields that got damaged, they're able to soak up the hits, as turbolasers fire in paired barrages, the fire pattern on the ship's surface seemingly random. "Good work."

The communications officer reports to Dante, "We are at forty-five percent and holding, all guns blazing, Wing Commander." With the Commander presently occupied, it's up to the comms jockey to handle the command and control frequency.

Bouncing slightly in her seat despite her safety harness, Snal'Fashtalli continues to mutter under her breath as their ship comes under fire. "I hope you two can keep the shields from buckling," she growls into her comm, not knowing if either Gienah or Chakuro will even notice. Still, there's nothing she can do about that sort of defense where she is now. The only defense she can try to offer is offensive in nature. Attempting to sight on the closest ship, the Horansi halfbreed tries once again to use the torret guns to good effect.

"Aim our missile fire at the command tower, aim everything at it." While the Inquisitor had evaded the first burst of fire from the Rapier, with its 'back' to the cruiser, Rasi hoped to score a quick series of blows against it by taking out as much of the command and control functions concentrated in the large tower at the back of the Star Destroyer. And so, the Rapier began driving forward even as it soaked up damage to its underbelly, thankfully its shields had barely been tested in this engagement.

The rest of the battle seemed to be going in the Republic's favour as the Imperial line started to buckle, some of the Republican cruisers having broken through and beginning to round back in an attempt to destroy the enemy force from two sides.

It only takes part of Gienah's attention to quickly realize that Chakuro is virtually useless at the controls. It should have been no surprise -- the Horansi are largely a technophobic race, with only the Kasa being truly well known for possessing enough curiosity to go beyond their own culture. From the other castes, including the Mashi, there are very, very few exceptions.

Chakuro studies the console as quickly as he can, but there's little point. He finally comprehends the levels readout and reports: "Shields at 32 percent overall. Forward shields at sixteen."

Another barrage hits the relatively tiny ship. "Shields are down!" Chakuro reports. Literally. All readouts show zero. Another impact! The ship shakes and Gienah swears. "R-Rapier, this is Prowler Two Papa Three Hotel X-Ray. Our engines are g-gone. Request help. Mayday!" He shuts off the transmit button and speaks in Horansi, "Snal'Fashtalli, we're getting boarded! Chakuro, I hope you are better with your claws than you are with a ship!" He's already unpeeling his harness and getting ready for the fight.

Commander Razem shouts, "Helm, full speed out of the system!" He flicks a thumb over the armrest, switching frequencies and getting on the fighter frequency. "Wing Commander, cover our retreat, if you will, then break off engagement." Lt. Barakzai throttles the engines to full impulse, fingers tapping over the controls as he gets an extra seven percent out of the engines, holding it as long as he can without damaging the engines. The ship continues to dip as it performs a half diving loop, heading out of the battle as the admiral in charge calls a withdrawal for all Imperial forces. Today, the superior capital ships of the New Republic, specifically their command and control staffs, were too much for the Empire to handle.

The response from Snal'Fashtalli is... well, rude. Gienah already knows the Kasa hybrid's reputation for brawling, and she's already under stress at it is. Abandoning the turret after another potshot at the approaching ships, she clambors back down and moves to a defensive position in preparation for the expected 'visitors'.

Dante and her wingman are circling the Falcon, working on peppering the shields with round after round of weapons fire when the word comes from the Inquisitor to fall back. Even though Dante knows that their weapons fire wasn't actually going to get through those shields, not with the weapons they're carrying, it's tough to button down the instinct to keep firing. But she's to much of a soldier to disobey orders and is falling back, covering her wingman as he adjusts his trajectory and maneuvers his fighter into position to fall back with the rest of the squadron. "Roger that, sir, we are falling back and covering your retreat." With that confirmed she guides her ship away from the Falcon and then away from the main fray as it starts to unfold and dissolve.

As close as the fighters and the boarding party loaded into the shuttle were to actually over taking their target they still turn and head back to base without a word of argument. The beauty of the Imperial machine evident in this display of perfect precision and compliance with orders given. The most inexperienced of the pilots are staged in waves in the wake of the Inquisitor, placing the most experienced the most veteran pilots on the leading edge to reduce the risk of fighters falling behind.

With the battle drawing to its conclusion, Rasi turned his attention back to the predicament the scout ship found itself in, "Patch me into the scout ship's internal comms.", he said to the comms section moments before his voice could be heard inside of the scout. "Scout ship, this is Commander Cen of the Rapier. We ae dispatching a tender to tow you into the Rapier's hangar, engineers and a medical team will be dispatched to your wounds. We will be making our way back to friendly lines." Just as quickly as a commlink was established, it is cut off as Rasi returns to surveying the battlefield. A thin smile comes to his lips, though the mirth never reached his eyes, as he witnessed the Imperial retreat, the Republican fighters harrying them to the last and hoping to deal lasting damage to as many as possible. "Transmit to command that we are returning to base with few casualties. Imperial losses are undetermined as of yet but higher than ours."