Step I: Denial

[Cyrus Tregessar]

From the surface of a planet, a space battle resembles a particularly impressive lightshow off in the sky. The flash of turbolasers, the explosions of light generated by detonating missiles, the exhaust and engine trails of warships. From an orbital stations, the effect is even more impressive, and also somewhat unnerving. No longer is it a duel amongst stars in the distance, every shot has the chance of passing close. Like watching tanks roll through your backyard. And even with that thought in mind, it was all still too far away for Cyrus Tregessar.

The room in which he sat was something like a control station, but the whole front of it was curved and sectioned into a score of displays. Fed by a fleet of surveillance probes, the screens showed the currently ongoing battle from every possible angle. On one display, a pair of cruisers maneuvered in close formation, with one ship firing and the other placing itself to cover from oncoming fire. On another a section of fighters swept in low above a Star Destroyer, in a classic high-speed bombing approach.

Some of the screens data instead of images, monitoring operational displays, comms traffic, audio feeds, tactical link pictures and other things. To any person unfamiliar with their use, they appeared to be unintelligible streams of data. To a trained operator, they provided invaluable information at a meer glance.

Movement on one of the video screens caught Cyrus' attention, and he glanced up. A Heavy Cruiser had drifted out of a formation and its shields suddenly lit up with sustained fire. For several seconds, they glowed as they were bombarded by enough energy to level a building, then suddenly they flashed and collapsed. Bolts of energy impacted the ship, and explosions blossomed across its hull.

Comms traffic jumped. The firing ceased. In that region of space, all movement stopped.

Someone had karked up. The exercise was live-fire, but all weapons used were supposed to be turned down to barely enough output to scratch the shields. Either whoever had been shooting wasn't following instructions, or the commander of the cruiser had done something to weaken his shields. This was the fifth mistake that had cost lives so far. Not bad when you considered that over a hundred ships were involved.

But five too many for Cyrus. He made a note to save the data from that incident, then ordered the ship, the Vanguard-class Heavy Cruiser Insipid, to return to station. It was hardly a safe distance away when he gave the order to resume the exercise.

Five incidents indicated a trend. Possibly a strong one. Three of the ships that had fouled up in some way had been under the command of Rear Admiral Ganel Mahken. This made a fourth. Cyrus pulled his file up on screen and began to read.

 

[Cyrus Tregessar]

So far the file was unremarkable. He'd served with the Sith Empire, switched sides to the Fel's for a brief period, then found his way to the Republic. There he'd held the rank of captain and had been relegated to backwater postings. When the One Sith emerged, he'd switched sides without even needing to be coerced.

Pretty standard for most of the Sith's senior naval officers. To Cyrus, it screamed 'unreliable' and possibly 'treacherous.' How it didn't bother the Sith themselves, he had no idea. There was a certain irony there, of course, since he'd switched sides more times than that in his past. But his skills were undeniable, whereas Ganel Mahken's were... dubious at best. Test scores were average, which didn't necessarily mean much, but they were backed up by mediocre marks in practical tests and absolutely unremarkable battlefield performance.

In fact, Rear Admiral Mahken appeared to have little large-scale combat experience at all. That wasn't strictly a flaw either, there was something to be said for officers who specialized in raiding and harassing with light ships. The Mandalorians in particular excelled at small ship tactics, and also at turning larger fleet battles into a bunch of smaller actions, inevitably to their benefit.

But for such a person to make flag rank meant they had to have at least some ability to learn the arguably more complex ability of exercising tactical and operational control over large fleets.

Cyrus leaned back in his chair. There was still an exercise going on, and the information he'd just discovered could wait for now. A quick glance at the screens showed that the Cruisers and couple Star Destroyers under Mahken's command were engaging a group composed only of cruisers.

Time to see how Mahken handled a little overwhelming force.

 

[Cyrus Tregessar]

Mahken's Star Destroyers were in a line abreast, a standard capital ship formation. He had placed a cruiser on either flank, then two above and two below. Out in front was a screen of four frigates. The live fire nature of the exercise had necessitated that no fighters be deployed, but the onboard training programs could simulate them to a degree, and on the display Cyrus could see he had dispersed his squadrons to fill in the gaps between his ships.

All in all, a textbook formation. The kind any cadet could draw out on paper.

The opposing force was simply eight Vanguard-class Heavy Cruisers and a slew of fighters, probably provided by a couple of Torment Carrier's that lurked off behind some cover. The Cruisers were on the offensive, and for a few minutes Cyrus was confused as to what their commander intended. They had no discernible formation, except that they appeared to be operating as detached pairs. Two of the Vanguard's, those the closest to Mahken's fleet, opened fire with their long-range turbolasers, targeting the frigate screen. Mahken reacted instantly, launching his cruisers and fighters to engage. The Vanguard's however, were already turning away, and no sooner had they pointed their thrusters at the cruisers and turned them up ahead flank, then two more Vanguard's were in range firing away.

It was brilliant maneuver, maximizing the use of long-range weaponry while keeping distance from the enemy. Each pair of Vanguard's were able to target independently, and also provide support and covering fire while their partner withdrew. Meanwhile Mahken's ships faltered. Clearly he was not providing clear direction on how to proceed, and while he tried to suss out what was going on his ships paid the price. One of the frigates flashed red on the display, the system indicating that it was 'destroyed', and it limped out of the formation, followed soon after by a second frigate.

In a matter of twenty minutes, Mahken's fighter defense had been halved.

Comms traffic from his flagship, the Star Destroyer Contempt, jumped. The simulated fighters surged forward. The Vanguard's fighter escort met them, and seemingly heedless to the fake strike craft, the heavy cruisers continued their fighting withdrawal strategy. That wasn't exactly sound tactical thinking, but it made sense when you realized that there were no actual fighters. Whoever was commanding the Vanguard's knew how the play the system.

By now Cyrus was thoroughly enjoying the performance, and he began to filter through the necessary files to pull up who was in charge of the Vanguard force. Kavara Sekan, was the stylized name of the tactic, titled after a particular sort of destructive storm from some planet Cyrus couldn't' be bothered to remember. It had unpredictable movement, often appearing to recede and then surge again, leaving destruction in its wake. An apt description for the current show.

 

[Cyrus Tregessar]

Mahken's cruisers were faring little better than his frigates had. One group of three, probably under their own initiative, had moved forward as a group. As they advanced, they suffered under a continous hail of fire, while the Vanguard's continuous movement to the rear and their constant swapping made it difficult, if not impossible, to focus fire in turn. One of the cruisers flashed red and dropped down out of the formation, and the other two turned around and withdrew at full speed to the remaining cluster of ships.

While Cyrus' attention was fixed on that sequence of events, Rear Admiral Mahken had finally decided to act. The pair of Star Destroyers (not the new Wryylok's but older refitted models that were still used extensively for training and system defense) surged forward as a pair. Star Destroyers were dagger shaped for a reason, like knives they were designed to pierce enemy formations, firing on both sides. it was an impressive display, and also totally useless. The Vanguard's had no intention of letting themselves get within range.

But either fate or incompetence had other plans beyond Mahken's continued embarrassment. The particular vectors of attack had aligned so that the retreating pair of cruisers were on a collision course with the Star Destroyers now accelerating at full burn. So fixated was everyone on the Vanguard force, that by the time anyone noticed, there were mere seconds to react.

The cruisers did the best they could. One conducted an emergency full rotation and engaged its engines in emergency max. The other took a different approach, firing every vernier thruster it had.

The Star Destroyers made no visible effort to maneuver at all. The Contempt struck one of the cruisers with its starboard point. It twisted under the impact, and the particle shields flashed and then failed, shedding metal and debris from the impact point. The cruiser was launched off tumbling like a ball, until either emergency systems or some skilled crewman got it stabilized. On the display, it was visibly holed.

The other ships fared even worse. In attempting to dive under the Star Destroyer rather than accelerate away, the second pair of ships had a much higher relative velocity at impact. The Star Destroyer Refuser struck the cruiser nearly head on, then dragged its ventral hull over it until the two were clear. As the smaller ship emerged from the of the larger vessel, it left a trail of ruin like an open wound.

The entire upper portion of the ship was gone.

 

[Cyrus Tregessar]

Cyrus didn't remember standing up, but he found himself on his feet, hands clenching the desk in front of him for support. He stood aghast, for a moment unable to believe what he was seeing. Minor casualties could be expected in an exercise of this magnitude, but this? THIS?

Fury overtook him. He opened a channel to the entire fleet. A ship destroyed, three others crippled, thousands dead. All for nothing, a waste of useful lives and resources. All because of Ganel Mahken. He wanted to scream for his head. Demand that the crew of the Contempt deliver him for execution. Gouge his eyes out, rip up his tongue, then beat his face into an unrecognizable pulp.

But instinct hadn't quite taken over. Mahken would pay for his incompetence, but screaming for his death over an open channel wasn't the way to do it. Cyrus inhaled slowly, exhaled. With practiced technique he began to take his anger and mold it. It would not be dismissed, it could not. It was part of him, it made him who he was. But it could be altered, used for a better purpose. Saved for a better time.

"Finex finex finex, effective immediately. All avaialbe ships report to sector Oscar 6-1 to assist in search and rescue operations. Salvage teams on emergency standby. All ships too damaged to assist return to port immediately. Finex."

All he could do right now was pick up the pieces.

 

[Cyrus Tregessar]

The fleet of surveillance probes were quickly re-tasked to provide an up to date feed and help coordinate the rescue and recovery efforts. One passed close by the ruined cruiser, its camera getting a clear view of the destruction. Metal was mangled and torn, resembling a crumpled piece of paper. Here and there, bodies could be seen, twisted into poses of shock and fear. A worthless way to die, furthering no end, doing no harm to ones enemy. A waste of resources and talent.

On another screen a probe hovered close to an almost sealed compartment. Someone took it under direct control and began to inspect more closely with spotlights and other sensor gear, hoping to find survivors. It was a complex effort, with damage control crews from the untouched portion of the ship scrambling to make their way to the wrecked sections, and salvage craft en route to start from the top and work down. When it came to survival in wrecked spacecraft, every second counted. Every minute meant more lives lost.

There would be no miracle this time around. The light flashed through the compartment and illuminated several frozen bodies, most of them part-way into emergency space suits.

Watching from his display, Cyrus found himself oddly content. The spacers trapped in their shriveled metal tomb would not, in fact, die for no reason. This would be the catalyst for change. With this one event he could shape the Sith Navy as he saw fit. It wouldn't be easy, there would be careful steps to take from here, but in a brutally ironic way everything that had happened was damn near perfect.

Mahken's Star Destroyer was still on its way to the station. He had time to plan yet.

 

[Cyrus Tregessar]

It was going to be a different kind of war than the one he usually fought. Political, based on debate and accumulation of evidence as opposed to whoever had the heavier weight of shot and the swifter ship. But one did not survive in the old Sith Empire without knowing how to play that particular deck of cards, even if they couldn't call themselves a master at it. It was a game he hadn't had to play with the Atrisians or the Fringe. They understood merit and acknowledged his talents for what they were. But Atrisia had been a victim of circumstance, and the lords of the Fringe lacked ambition. There was nothing to be gained in peace, and that at least the Sith knew and kept close to their heart. If nothing else you could always count on Sith to be fighting someone.

They also tended to favor subordinates who kowtowed to their every whim. Mahken was hardly unique in his rise amongst the Sith, Cyrus had file after file to prove that much. Who would question a Sith Lord, after all, when it came to placing someone in charge of a ship, or system, or sector. Nor was it unique to the Navy. The Army, Administration and government in general was riddled with nepotism.

But frankly Cyrus couldn't care less about anything but the Navy, so long as they didn't impede his progress. He also probably couldn't touch the Sith themselves, which was going to make this whole process very... interesting, to say the least. Somehow, using a political system designed to marginalize those without significant support among the lords who ruled it, he had to convince the ruling body that a different system was necessary for the military to function properly. Merit, discipline, and respect for order would be its key tenants.

The alternative was learning to deal with imbeciles like Makhen on the battlefield, where they could do serious damage. Would the SIth protect their pawns even if they lost a battle, or was that dangerous game played by those who were willing to curry favor? Either way, it wasn't worth finding out. Better to go through the effort of taking out the trash than find out if it spoiled.

 

[Cyrus Tregessar]

A soft chime indicated that a call was waiting for him. His mind still on other things, Cyrus absentmindedly answered. The face on the other end was not the skittish Ensign who was normally his secretary, but instead an extremely bored looking 2nd Class Petty Officer. She delivered a crisp salute, though Cyrus couldn't help but detect a certain lack of enthusiasm in the gesture. For him, or for the whole show on inevitably put on when dealing with flag officers?

“The Contempt is approaching the dock, Admiral. It seemed like a good idea to let you know.”

Initiative. There was a concept. Even on something as minor as passing along a message, it was a level of thinking that half the junior officers he dealt with didn't possess.

“I see. Thank you. Inform Rear Admiral Makhen when he arrives that I am expecting him in my office immediately.”

The woman's face twisted to a look of annoyance for just a moment before returning to the mask of perpetual boredom that it had been before. “Ah, Admiral Mahken contacted the station earlier saying he was busy with repairs and damage evaluation. He also advised me that any callers were welcome to meet him at the dock.”

Though he himself was sure he kept his mask of calmness solid, Cyrus' face must have changed in some way, because he didn't have a chance to say anything before the spacer spoke again. Maybe he'd raised his eyebrow slightly beyond what could be considered a normal response.

“I'll see to it that he makes his way to your office as soon as he arrives, sir. Ensign Dajm made it clear you weren't one to be kept waiting.”

Well, at least the previously-useless ensign had gotten one thing right. As it was, Cyrus was tempted to fire Dajm and make the enlisted spacer his permanent secretary. It would have to wait until after the current situation was resolved, though. Another mental note for later.

“Very well, pretty officer. See to it.”

He cut the call.

 

[Cyrus Tregessar]

Rear Admiral Ganel Mahken strolled through the doorway into Cyrus' office like he was conducting a routine inspection. Outside the door, the Petty Officer from earlier caught sight of something, made a face, and took off. Mahken apparently saw it too and faltered mid step. His aura of confidence vanished and he came to something approaching attention. It took Cyrus a minute to realize it was probably the visibly twisted anger on his face that had everyone running scared.

Good.

"You called, Cyrus?" Mahken managed to get the words out without stuttering, but the false familiarity nearly pushed Cyrus over the edge again.

"You will address me as Vice Admiral, cur," Cyrus sneered. He was nearly out of patience, and caught himself clenching the desk so hard it was painful. "Your mistakes have, during a routine training operation, cost the One Sith an entire ship and wasted the lives of thousands of personnel. You will never command a fleet again as long as I live, and gods willing I'll see you court martialed and executed for incompetence. If i were you, I'd update your will. Dismissed, Ganel."

Makhen didn't move. "You can't do that! I have powerful friends, Cyrus, you won't get away with this. Who's sponsoring you, I wonder? Will anyone even notice when the Sith choose to choke your life out for treason? I imagine that-" Makhen didn't get another word in, because Cyrus, having finally lost his composure, had vaulted the table and charged the man. One minute he remembered being behind the desk, the next he was beating the head of the useless Rear Admiral. He grabbed his shirt and pulled the limp head up until he was just inches from his face. "You DARE to threaten me! Bring your karking Sith, bring your karking soldiers. I do not lose, I do not yield. Take your best shot, and I will stand atop your worthless corpse and those of your would be protectors." He dropped him, and Mahken slumped to the ground, whether because he was shocked or simply couldn't compete with Cyrus' size and strength. For a moment, Cyrus let up his assault, and looked down at the battered figure below him, blood streaming from a broken nose and cut lip. Rationally, he knew he should stop, but he was not a creature of logic, and he surrendered to the wonderful emotion of rage.

The door to the chamber slid open, and the Petty Officer from before stood at the ready with another figure, a female Zabrak officer. Both had sidearms drawn, though neither looked particular certain who they should be aimed at. For a few moments, the three of them stood motionless around the crumpled figure of Ganel Mahken, and gradually the rage in Cyrus began to subside. Once more in control, he walked calmly to his desk and sat down, and began wiping the blood off his hands on a piece of paper.

The two women glanced at each other, shrugged, then holstered their weapons. The Petty Officer stepped forward cautiously. "This is Commander Vayrrel, of the Cruiser Reprisal. She requested to speak with you about the incident."

Cyrus looked up. "Yes, good. Please see the Rear Admiral out." He waited as the spacer knelt and helped Ganel up, then walked out with him leaning on her, then directed his gaze on Commander Vayrrel, who likewise watched the strange pair leave with a single raised eyebrow. "Now then Commander, what can I do for you."

 

[Cyrus Tregessar]

Commander Vayrrel didn't move for a while. Cyrus didn't mind, it gave him time to clean off his hands and straighten out his uniform some. He couldn't do much for the flecks of blood on the ground where Mahken had been laying, but he liked how they looked anyway. Gave the room some character, nice feng-shui.

"Sir, I've come to accept responsibility for the accident," the Zabrak spoke in a rigidly formal tone, like someone at a court martial.

Cyrus looked up in surprise. That had been unexpected, even among the Sith navy. Covering for someone else's mistake, perhaps? Was this yet another of Mahken's ploys? "I don't accept your apology, Commander, since the incident wasn't your fault. In fact, you have already done me two favors today. The first was proving that there are still competent among all the wretches here who curry favor from the Sith, and the second was forcing Mahken to prove he's not among that first group."

He waited to see what reaction that garnered, but the Zabrak kept her face straight. A proper professional, good.

"I'll see you transferred to my command, I have a need for good ship captains."

Vayrrel snapped off a sharp salute, "Yes sir."

"Your first duty is to submit a report on the maneuver you pulled out there, along with recommendations for future development along similar lines. You understand what I'm talking about?"

"Prakith and Manaan, if I had to guess."

"Exactly that. Once you're done with that report I'll have more work. Dismissed, Captain."

 

[Cyrus Tregessar]

One Week Later...


The final report delivered by Captain Vayyrel had been something along the lines of exceptional. Including case analysis of both Prakith and Manaan, it had gone in depth as to the causes of the defeat at the latter, and why the former had been a standstill. The conclusion was clear as day to Cyrus, and the Zabrak officer had nailed it. The Sith, being perhaps not the strongest at war in space, and having packed the Navy full of sycophants and bootlickers like Ganel Mahken, had little concept of advanced tactics, especially those focus around maneuver. Tactics of the sort Captain Vayyrel had demonstrated such a commanding grasp of earlier.

But there was a bigger problem them simply acknowledging that one must engage in a battle of maneuver. The current frontline ships, with the possible exception of the Wryylok (and that was still easily outrun by ships of a similar size) simply weren't built for it. Something new was required. A powerful ship, something that could rival the firepower of the Darkblade and the newer Republic capital ships, but something that move just as well. Having all your guns pointed forward worked when you had your back to the wall, but the Sith hadn't been underdogs for a while now, and while the Immortals still had their place, they couldn't be relied upon as the core of a fleet.

They had Kuat, they had Rendili. They had the resources to challenge what had become the standard in the galaxy. Hundreds of years ago, before the Gulag Plague, the great powers had made massive ships, and while some were truly ponderous beasts, others were not. Battlecruisers and Dreadnoughts. One could hardly hope to mass produce the latter, but the former...

There was definitely more work to be done.