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To Begin Whipping Dance of the Dead

La Forge paced nervously on the bridge of the Chimaera. Though they were still fifteen minutes from their exit from hyperspace, he could not help but want to be on the

bridge. Fleet Admiral Polanski had named this "Operation Deep Strike", and in a sense it really was. La Forge knew he might regret his decision to do this, but he went

ahead with it anyway. His cofidence in himself, his ship, and his crew was supreme.

"Sir, can I get you something to drink?" a crewman asked. La Forge didn't hear anything. "Sir?" Still nothing. "Sir?!?"

La Forge finally heard the crewman and jumped a bit. "No thank you, crewman."

"Everything all right, sir?"

"Fine. Fine."

The crewman shrugged and walked away and La Forge continued to stare at the swirling blue tunnel of hyperspace.

"Status report, ensign," La Forge said quietly.

"All systems normal and operational, sir. We're ready for anything."

"Thank you, ensign." La Forge knew that the Chimaera's readiness was only part of what counted... the pilots would need to be at their best in order for the chimaera to

make it out in any state resembling one piece. La Forge had confidence that his pilots wouldn't let him down... but in the back of his mind was the voice of Vice Admiral

Fel reminding him that sometimes even top performance is not enough to succeed if your objective is impossible.

Then again, the Vice Admiral didn't believe in impossible.

"Platform YM-42 Alpha reports they have full power, Commander."

"Commander Laithlis acknowledges. Good to hear. Thanks for the report... speak to you soon. Nemesis out."

Commander Laithlis was in the briefing room with datapads strewn everywhere across the desk. He was sorting out the fortification of the Yaga Minor system. The Empire

evidently had plans for it, because two Platforms had been deployed post-haste and were now being brought online.

Vice Admiral Fel hadn't said exactly what was going to be installed here, but if the whispers aboard the ship were any indication, it sounded like a shipyard. This worked

just fine for the crew of the Nemesis... the closest shipyard was an awfully long way away from the outer sectors. But for now, at least, the Nemesis was supervising the

setup of defence platforms.

The Vice Admiral entered the briefing room. "How's it going, Commander?"

"Things are fine, Admiral. Both platforms now have power, so I can start sending off all these datapads to their rightful owners instead of having them clutter up my

briefing room."

"Sorry that you had to do that, but both station commanders were coming from far away and nobody was quite ready to take command."

"It's okay, but I freely admit I enjoyed our last assignment more. The enemy-hunting and all."

"I know, I know. Patrol missions aren't fun, but they are necessary... until we get some serious forces set up here this place will be vulnerable."

"Right. Hold on a second, it's time to change patrols." Laithlis hit the communcations button. "Lieutenant Daltin, come in."

Daltin's voice was audible throughout the briefing room. "Go ahead, sir. Time's up?"

"Yes, come back. Epsilon is launching."

"Gimel's on its way home. Daltin out."

"Hangar bay," Laith said.

"Hangar bay, go ahead," replied a technician.

"Launch Epsilon."

"Will do sir."

"Very good, Laithlis out." He turned back to the Vice Admiral. "I think the rebels will try something when it comes to reconning. They've somehow got good intelligence

usually."

"Well, let's see, Commander. Maybe not. Let me give you a hand with the datapads..."

"This shouldn't be too hard," Jagged Fel began, "since the world we're on is very Imperial-friendly to begin with. We shouldn't have any trouble with the locals allying

themselves with the invaders."

Mitchell asked a question: "So can we blow stuff up already?"

"Let's get to it, gentlemen,' Jagged said, as the Command Centre neared completion on Muunilist. "These scum are getting off our planet. Now."

Captain Vortagh answered the comm system. "Captain Vortagh."

"Captain, it's Jagged Fel."

"What is it?"

"Something you might like to hear. Apparently there's a pirate fuel depot in the next system by the largest moon of the gas giant. I'll upload the co-ordinates."

Vortagh grinned. "Good, good. I think we will head over and blow it up. Exact a little revenge for the sabotage!"

"General Jansen thought you might say that. Happy hunting, Captain -- we'll be fine down here."

"Good, good. Vortagh out." The captain left for the bridge immediately.

Commander Steel greeted the captain and they spoke momentarily in Tuton before the grin spread to Steel as well. Vortagh switched back to Basic to order the microjump to

the next system. The Warhammer lurched and jumped to lightspeed, the tunnel lasting only a minute before converging back into realspace. Just as the Army had said, there

was the fuel depot. The VSD headed straight for the platform, and as they got there the fighters began scrambling and launching.

"Zeta squadron, go!" Vortagh's catchphrase echoed in their helmets as they headed out to meet the incoming horrible mix of ships.

Lieutenant Zwibble came over the comm in Tuton, telling that a distress signal had been sent by the fuel depot.

Vortagh replied in Basic: "Let them come. The more the merrier!"

The Chimaera dropped from hyperspace on time, with the VSDs Dominance and Vigilant flanking.

"Dominance, Vigilant, this is La Forge. Go ahead with the plan."

The Dominance acknowledged and made a microjump up further, towards all the rebel capital ships, and then cut a sharp angle away, drawing off some but not all of them. The

Dominance made another microjump and the rebel ships did the same, and soon all of them were out of view.

The VSD Vigilant headed straight for the main defence platform, distracting it enough that the Chimaera was free to head directly for the shipyard.

"Sir, we've got a problem." One of the crew in the pit.

"What is it?" La Forge asked.

"It looks like they've put up a mine field!"

"Nothing we can't handle."

"Sir, we've got incoming fighters and capital ships everywhere. This isn't going to be pretty."

"Launch all squadrons! Open Fire! All hands to battlestations, full alert status! We are not losing the Chimaera!"

The Chimaera squadrons flew forth from the hangar in great haste while the mothership thundered forward at its maximum sublight speed, guns blazing.

Whether the Chimaera would make it back was yet to be seen. Top effort from each of its pilots was needed to bring it home safely.

The Imperial Star Destroyer Mark II moved inexorably forward, towards the shipyard.

Towards its fate.

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