Taran Holt
Character
The Hydian Way, one of the key hyperroutes through Republic space, traversed by a hundred thousand ships a day. Passing through almost 15 sectors, it was long, extremely profitable, and extremely vulnerable. Over the past few days, there had been a marked uptick in reports from merchants about piracy along the route. The attackers had not been identified, and struck targets without regard to their flag or allegiance. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who the likely instigator was, but all the same there wasn’t much the Republic could do besides increase naval patrols along the route.
So it was that Commander Taran Holt found himself in charge of a squadron following the familiar route. Hyperspace patrol called for traveling at brief intervals with regular transitions into realspace to conduct deep space scanning. It was an imperfect system, but the vast majority of the Republics dedicated sensor ships were placed along the Sith border to watch for incursions.
The crew was less willing to be placated by something as simple as logic. They had taken to calling the patrols ‘chum runs' in a classic display of spacer pessimism. Taran had had a hard time suppressing such sentiment, the term was a distressingly apt description.
“All ships checking in, hyperdrives spun up, green across the board. Ready to jump on your command.”
Taran nodded. The squadron, consisting of two Hammerhead-class Frigates, a single Metallos Carrier for fighter support, and four Dorin-class Corvettes, was more than enough to cope with any band of pirate raiders. That fact, along with the consideration that no patrol had yet contacted any enemy, meant that Taran was little concerned. Besides, despite the growing discontent of the crew at the current mission, Taran was well-known as a lucky commander. The Sith Raiders were all but certain to hit someone else first. Superstition and cynicism, everything a navy man needed to thrive.
“Very well. Formation forward-delta two, jump on my mark.”
The ships were arrayed already, with the three corvettes in a triangle up in front and the carrier nestled between the two Hammerheads. It wasn’t a particularly interesting formation, but it was a reasonably effective one. More than what was probably necessary for a routine patrol. For once, conforming to routine would pay dividends. There would be nothing routine about the next few hours.
“Mark.”
In a flash, the ships vanished, leaving only empty space behind. But gone was not forgotten, and prying eyes watched their passage through the other.
OOC NOTE:
So it was that Commander Taran Holt found himself in charge of a squadron following the familiar route. Hyperspace patrol called for traveling at brief intervals with regular transitions into realspace to conduct deep space scanning. It was an imperfect system, but the vast majority of the Republics dedicated sensor ships were placed along the Sith border to watch for incursions.
The crew was less willing to be placated by something as simple as logic. They had taken to calling the patrols ‘chum runs' in a classic display of spacer pessimism. Taran had had a hard time suppressing such sentiment, the term was a distressingly apt description.
“All ships checking in, hyperdrives spun up, green across the board. Ready to jump on your command.”
Taran nodded. The squadron, consisting of two Hammerhead-class Frigates, a single Metallos Carrier for fighter support, and four Dorin-class Corvettes, was more than enough to cope with any band of pirate raiders. That fact, along with the consideration that no patrol had yet contacted any enemy, meant that Taran was little concerned. Besides, despite the growing discontent of the crew at the current mission, Taran was well-known as a lucky commander. The Sith Raiders were all but certain to hit someone else first. Superstition and cynicism, everything a navy man needed to thrive.
“Very well. Formation forward-delta two, jump on my mark.”
The ships were arrayed already, with the three corvettes in a triangle up in front and the carrier nestled between the two Hammerheads. It wasn’t a particularly interesting formation, but it was a reasonably effective one. More than what was probably necessary for a routine patrol. For once, conforming to routine would pay dividends. There would be nothing routine about the next few hours.
“Mark.”
In a flash, the ships vanished, leaving only empty space behind. But gone was not forgotten, and prying eyes watched their passage through the other.
OOC NOTE:
So this is to be an 'exhibition match' of sorts where I fight... myself! The intention is to provide a good example for a fleet match between small forces (and also give me something to write where I'm not beholden to or liable to disappoint anyone else). It's also supposed to highlight the difference between a talented amateur and an experienced professional. Finally it's supposed to be an entertaining read, and touch upon an area of warfare we don't otherwise cover much here.