The dreadnaught shook as the incoming fire intensified. Task force Fenris had slowed down considerably, buying themselves more time while the Novican advance pierced deeper into their lines, their losses mounting with every passing moment. Even now the first wave of the Imperial advance was beginning to catch up and communicating constantly with the second wave. Lines of fire were exchanged and cleared and they began adding their firepower to the melee, further battering the Novican ships. Destroyers were vapourised by concentrated barrages. Light cruisers ceased to exist as dozens of missiles slammed into them. Heavy cruisers groaned and broke apart as the constant fire overwhelmed their shields and demolished their hulls. Battlecruisers turned into miniature suns, generators overloading and secondary explosions rolling through their superstructure. Even battleships were utterly annihilated as dozens of ships combined their firepower and demolished them without mercy. With each passing second the Novicans lost more ships. Their screens were gone, hundreds of thousands of lives lost, sacrificed in order to buy time for a spear to be thrust into the heart of the Imperial armada. Escorts burned and capitals vomited their entrails but still they came, closer and closer. Their dreadnaughts, originally at the fore of the advance and soaking up immense amounts of fire were now falling behind as their faster brethren left their protection for one final sally, their one purpose; to kill Admiral Verloff and decapitate Nemesis.

In turn the Imperials were just as determined to stop the assault dead in its tracks and protect their Admiral. Firepower that could level a world was hurled through the void of space. Imperial accuracy took their toll, more ships falling out of formation, breaking apart or disintegrating altogether, but as Fenris began to lose speed, their thrusters slowly but constantly diminishing their forward velocity, they became easier targets. The lead elements of the Novican task forces charged the Ad Astra with reckless abandon, a handful of destroyers and cruisers that had somehow gotten through the killing field in a functional shape abandoned their position, overloading their power grid to unleash as much fire as they could onto the Imperial flagship. Lances of energy and violent plasma charges slammed into the dreadnaught's shields, which didn't even flicker in acknowledgement.

'Clean those up!' Verloff shouted. 'They're clogging my view!'

Weapons quickly selected the small group of offenders and fed their coordinates to a handful of minor weapon batteries. They weren't worth the attention of the heavier weapon emplacements. The escorts might be warships, powerful vessels in their own right, but against the Ad Astra they were no more than bugs on a windshield and they were treated as such. The gunners fed the coordinates to their computers, which dutifully slaved away to acquire target locks, and fired a moment later. The escorts shields simply blinked out of existence as the beams struck them, blowing gaping holes into and through their hulls. Weapons waited as secondary explosions removed what little structural integrity that remained, before confirming the kills.

'Gone!' shouted weapons, receiving a distracted grunt in acknowledgement.

Battlecruisers were next and dozens of them were converging on the mighty flagship. Verloff didn't give orders to fire, he didn't need to. His gunners and their officers knew their job better than he did. He merely waited, looked for vulnerabilities, directed their fire and occasionally demanded that a target died a tad quicker than the rest. Hundreds of lance batteries, heavy pulsar cannons and laser emplacements unleashed salvo after salvo. Plasma cannons glowed red with their deadly cargo before jettisoning it at the advancing foe with impunity, seeking out those ships that had lost their shields, the superheated streams burning through hulls and setting the air aboard the vessels aflame if they had made the fatal error of not having vented it prior. Once proud vessels shrieked as the Imperials hammered it with all they could and they died, but sold their lives dearly, brave captains and crew fighting to the last to stay alive for that little bit longer, to put just a little more stress on the dreadnaught's shields. They came in droves and died in droves, forcing the Imperials to destroy them first by virtue of simply flying directly in between the dreadnaught and their mightier brethren. Their numbers dwindled by the second. Five were left. Then four. Three. Two went down simultaneously as the Nova Cannons spoke once more. A single one left. Then there were none.

For an infinitesimal moment there was a lull in the battle, as nearby Imperial commanders finally had to cease their support of Fenris. The distance between the allied task forces too great, the enemy too close, to continue lending their firepower to the Admiral. Any shots that would miss their foe would likely endanger an ally, and any fire strong enough to damage a capital ship could cripple an allied escort. Verloff took in a deep breath as he saw the small armada of battleships in front of him, with the six beasts trailing behind, nearly equal with one another. They were belching fire and smoke, their shields flickered as damaged power lines made their presence known. The comms net was filled with erratic wails and static bursts as the jamming still continued as the two forces approached for the final and deciding clash. Thrusters flared up in the dark of the void as the enemy began to slow down, shutting down their engines and overloading their inertial dampeners. They'd only have one chance. If they overshot him, the rapidly advancing first wave would tear them to shreds before they could turn again. A dreadnaught was a veritable fortress. They couldn't just damage the Ad Astra, oh no. They needed to annihilate it, lest Verloff survive.

Then both groups opened fire with everything they had. Space ceased to be dark as dozens of ships blew apart their own generators in a desperate attempt to draw more out of their guns. Battleships, powerful vessels manned by tens of thousands of personnel, died in moments as the full fury of the Ad Astra was unleashed. Making the most out of the brief respite left before the dreadnaughts themselves tangled, Fenris held nothing back. Railguns barked and slammed home, denting shields and bursting through armour plates, plasma licked hungrily at barriers until they gave out and then dove into the unprotected superstructure, devouring anything in its path. Unprotected systems found themselves targeted by lance batteries, striking with pinpoint accuracy now that the distance had shrunk to nearly nothing. Pulsars formed massive lines in the black as they battered away at defences, sheer rate of fire making up for their weaker firepower. The Nova Cannons spoke once more, their fire staggered as the massive cannons required a long cooldown, but when they did nothing stood in their way. Two battleships at the fore didn't even have time to register that their shields went down before a salvo struck them, the superheated streams burning through them from bow to stern, leaving only a glowing, gaped out hulk behind. Imperial escorts and cruisers left the protection of their heavier comrades and threw themselves into the fray with reckless abandon, their guns firing non stop as they gave voice to their determination to protect their Admiral. Scyllas went out and risked destruction as they unleashed their hellish payloads once more, emptying the last of their magazines as they went over to rapid fire, trusting on the diminished distance to make up for the lack of guided launches. Hammers blew out their thrusters to come abroad of the enemies, opening up with their broadsides and reducing massive parts of the huge warships to radioactive, molten waste. Patrick, commanding the sole Paris-class in the task force, was content to send a single round into the enemy lines and then waited for his superior's command. The old captain did smile when that single round crunched its way through a damaged, but still functional battleship, and then went on to hit another, disabling its shields and severely knocking it off course.

The Novicans sold their lives dearly and even as their ships died around them, the veteran commanders manning them kept shouting out orders. They had given up on trying to prolong their lives, they were outmatched, outclassed and they were up against the very best of the Imperial fleet. Instead they threw their entire focus on pouring out as much fire as they could. Battleships began turning, became a wider target and were destroyed within moments. More followed and finally they could unleash their broadsides. Heavy lance batteries spewed forth litanies of fire that struck the Ad Astra and the dreadnaught shuddered in response, shields flaring up as the titanic energies of both sides clashed, one aiming to destroy, the other aiming to protect. In the outer edges of the superstructures fire fighting teams and engineers, both encased in heavy duty protective equipment, ran around frantically to lower the rapidly mounting temperature in the generators. Engineers disconnected melting cables and dragged new ones in place, ignoring the blisters forming on their hands. Fire fighting teams ran from deck to deck as more and more emergencies were called in, supporting the beleaguered technicians with heavier equipment as they extinguished breach after breach. The air in the outer parts of the dreadnaught had long been vented, but a lack of oxygen didn't bother superheated plasma from melting everything it touched when the containment fields gave way. Damage was beginning to mount and the real test still had to come.

Cindy watched the display in awe, the sheer level of firepower being thrown each way enough to scour planets clean of life. She was so enraptured by this close-ranged fight of apocalyptic proportions that it wasn't until the marine locked away in the crash harness next to her pushed the mask into her face that she realised another order had been given. She looked at him questioningly before she caught on. Air was about to be vented from the bridge as well. While a sensible precaution, it wasn't a good sign. The centre of an Imperial dreadnaught was supposed to be utterly impregnable and capable of withstanding even the worst assaults. The bridge tended to survive unscathed even if the rest of the vessel was destroyed. Or so the theory went, at least.

Making sure the mask was firmly in place, she turned back to the display and was surprised to find Verloff clicking his own harness in place. He was still in the midst of the bridge, rooted in place at the display, but his harness would pull him away from any walls should the unthinkable occur. A rather ignoble end for the galaxy's finest admiral, she thought with a smirk as she briefly entertained the notion of him becoming paste on the wall. Then she remembered just how much hinged on the man's survival and worry returned in full force, not in the least for her own life. The Empire first, that much was true, but her son's life was worth just as much to her. Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud vibration running through the deck as the enemy dreadnaughts began pouring fire onto the Ad Astra. Six to one, she thought. Those weren't good odds. That the deck was vibrating was another sign of just how much fire was being thrown their way. Normally the raw size of the vessel meant that its inhabitants weren't physically aware of the battle raging outside them. She glanced at the display again and her eyes went wide as she saw that the darkness of space had been replaced with blinding light.

Imperial ships raced alongside their flagship, assaulting the overwhelming foe with guns blazing. Streams of energy licked across their shields, sometimes bleeding through and gouging ugly tears in the massive ships, but the Novicans ignored the Imperials' attempt to draw their fire away from Verloff's dreadnaught. They only had one target and the Ad Astra Per Aspera was living up to its name as it poured out more firepower than even the most pessimistic Novican analysts had predicted. The Imperial flagship was unleashing a well aimed torrent of fire that hammered the nearest Novican dreadnaught, blinding their sensor network with the non-stop barrage. Shields flared up and died as several battleships lent their firepower to the Ad Astra and their lances pierced deeply into the beast, cutting out entire sections and letting secondary explosions worsen the damage. Yet even as they were overwhelming the massive vessel, the five others, along with the handful of remaining battleships, combined their firepower to do the same to their Imperial counterpart. The powerful barriers took the demolishing torrents of energy and remained standing, but their efficiency dropped with each shot and more and more bleedthrough was occurring with each impact. It wouldn't be long before the massed fire stripped their shields away entirely and when that happened their weapon emplacements would follow soon after.

'Engines, hit it! Patrick, now!' Verloff bellowed, blasting Cindy's worries apart as the inertial dampeners suddenly kicked in full force as the dreadnaught's thrusters flared to life, violently throwing the gargantuan vessel onto a new course pulling her harness taut and making her severely regret eating lunch.

'Aye sir,' came the reply on the speakers. 'Mass round away.'

Several thousands of km away the Silver Arrow's massive railgun vomited out the gigantic kinetic slug. It blinked across the battlefield in an instant, slamming into the side of a surprisingly untouched enemy battleship, resulting in a glancing shot. Not that it mattered, the sheer size, mass and speed of the round overwhelmed the shields and armour. The ship was far from destroyed, however, as the shot had been fired at a much slower pace than normal. Captain Patrick winced slightly as the reduced speed turned out to be significantly more horrible for the targets than a normal shot. As it was the massive battleship spun around, which mockingly waylaid any attempts of the inertial dampeners to safeguard the ship's crew as they were smashed into the walls and reduced to smears of a plethora of colours, red being the dominant tone, their safety harnesses rendered to uselessness in face of the titantic collision.

Patrick tapped his pipe against his mask, idly bemoaning the loss of atmosphere and his subsequent inability to light it, as the Silver Arrow changed direction as it acquired a new target. Dreadnaughts were far too large to be demolished by a single shot, hell, as unlike a battleship their shields could drain enough energy away from the impact to let their armour survive it, but it'd still make for one heck of a dent. His eyes went wide as he saw the flagship hurl itself towards the damaged battleship and he finally caught on to Verloff's plan.

'Well I'll be damned,' he whispered in amazement, stunned by the sheer audacity of their Admiral and slightly concerned about the sheer insanity the man possessed in order to come up with such plans in the first place.

Collision alerts blared throughout the ship as thousands of crewmen ran for dear life, evacuating the outer decks. They stumbled through the large halls, risking life and limb as the constant bombardement made itself known. Behind them the abandoned systems fought on automatically, quickly showing signs of damage. Decks shook as the shields withstood the massive impact and people were thrown about when a particularly heavy salvo bled through and slammed into the armour. Still they ran, helping one another to get to safety, slamming their safety harnesses into the rails as soon as they had cleared the red zones and they prepared themselves for what was about to come.

The Per Aspera Ad Astra rolled through space and slammed into the battleship, the incoming salvos going wide. In normal circumstances such a thing was unthinkable. Two warships approaching one another, even at a leisurely speed, still carried a far too high velocity to survive such an apocalyptic collision. A dreadnaught could batter aside everything up to a cruisers with their immensely powerful shields, but a battleship was simply too large. It was the same theory behind a mass round. Get enough mass and velocity together and no power in the world would keep you safe. Normally that was little issue. Ships could move fast enough to prevent the other from ramming them and space was vast enough that it only became a slightly viable tactic in close range energy duels, where it was easier for a dreadnaught to simply blow a cruiser apart than actually try to hit the damned thing. Of course, with both fleets having slowed down to be practically standing still, the impact wasn't apocalyptic, merely devastating.

Having been warned in the nick of time the flank of the Ad Astra that met with the battleship had been mostly evacuated. Dozens still died as the two massive vessels collided, but thousands lived. Internal shielding and redundancy systems snapping to life, massive bulkheads slammed shut and the crew that had vacated their primary stations started crawling their way towards secondary stations or moved through the ship to reinforce others, ignoring the ominous creaking sounds that the superstructure made as the battleship embedded itself into a part of the dreadnaught, even as they left dying comrades behind, some of which had only been scant metres behind them as the bulkheads slammed shut, condemning the few to save the many.

Immediately the difference in incoming fire became noticeable as the massive wreck proved to be a very durable shield, freeing up a significant amount of power generators to shift focus as dozens of batteries and hundreds of shield projectors were now gone. The engineers threw themselves into their work with fanaticism, redeploying cables and making adjustments to the generators as countless gigawatts were shunted into the flailing shields. With the Ad Astra now in a new position they were facing only two dreadnaughts on their open flank, one of those being the heavily damaged one. The other four were blasting away at the impromptu barrier, which diminished quickly. Within minutes, at best, they'd have burned through it and then the vulnerable innards would be ripe for the taking. Verloff wasn't planning on twiddling his thumbs in the meantime, however.

'Target delta! Twelve Novas, now! Target epsilon! Eight Novas, now! Patrick, second firing solution send, Cease fire until my command!'

The Novas spoke and the nearest dreadnaught caught the blast from up close. Once again the overpowered weapons burned through countless layers of armour and wreaked havoc on the inside of the gargantuan ship. Anything struck directly evaporated while everything further away melted into goop. Even without air the massive heat waves that rolled forth from the impact zones flash-boiled crew and destroyed sensitive equipment. Verloff glanced at the destruction wrought by the twelve shots, the beams having struck the vessel in a decent spree. Secondary explosions were already wreaking further havoc and he knew that was the first one out of the picture. The next eight hit a moment later and struck the damaged target with a broad spread. Having already sustained considerable wounds from the earlier energy duel the weakened dreadnaught could not withstand the incoming barrage and the heavy armour fumbled under the onslaught as the plasma burned through the ship, demolishing it internally. While not enough to wreak total destruction, both vessels were thoroughly crippled. Verloff let out a feral grin at the sight, before his harness pulled taut and he found himself airborne when the other dreadnaughts finally compensated for his sudden manoeuvre. They had reacquired targeting solutions and were now utterly pounding him once again. Already his reinforced shields were struggling in multiple locations and the ship's superstructure was taking damage. That was irrelevant for now, however. As long as his Nova Cannons remained operational… They were the enemy's primary target, but those gigantic weapons were well protected, Imperial engineers knowing well how much of a tempting target the glowing barrels made in the dark of space. His frontal guns were also covered by the impromptu shield that the battleship wreck made. Unlike the Imperials, the Novicans had no Fuck-you cannons,as he lovingly thought of them, at their disposal that could crunch through an entire ship with a single salvo, and destroying a ship fully was significantly more difficult than simply rendering it non functional. Metres of hull were being atomised per second by the continuous salvo as he fought to position keep the battleship in between himself and the enemy, but the once proud capital vessel had plenty to spare, for the next few minutes anyway.

'Target gamma! Eight Novas! Cleaning pattern!' he shouted and weapons obeyed. Once again beams of pure white struck an enemy dreadnaught. The weakened warship was raked by the pillars of fire, but remained largely intact, only losing several dozens of decks in the process as the plasma mercilessly cut through the armour once again. For a moment the vessel's commander saw it as a victory, until the damage reports rolled in. Most of their engines were gone and all their weapon emplacements that were facing the Ad Astra were now gone and they lacked the necessary thruster power to turn swiftly, delaying their ability to rejoin the fight.

'Patrick! Fire!' Verloff commanded. Three down, three to go, but damage was mounting rapidly. He couldn't roll around easily with the battleship stuck to him in order to present a new flank to the enemy and his shields were nearing their breaking point, despite his crew's heroic efforts. Hell, in several sectors they had already given out and the enemy was focusing on those, cutting deep into his ship. He howled in anger and satisfaction. It hurt his ship, killed hundreds of his loyal, beloved men, but it was a mistake. It meant that the rest of his ship suffered less damage, equating to more functional weapon mounts, and it would take them several minutes of concentrated fire to burn deep enough into the gargantuan superstructure to do debilitating damage.

A second mass round sailed through the void and glanced the battleship again, knocking it clean off the dreadnaught's hull again. A considerable portion of the vessel's mass was gone at this point, but it remained a rather huge chunk of metal, one that was now hurling towards target zeta, who was far too close and didn't have the time to do more than fire a brief barrage at it before it struck. Unlike the first collision, where both vessels had possessed similar vectors, this one was between two ships with opposing directions and the results were satisfyingly disastrous. Struts twisted and bended underneath the impossible pressure. Bulkheads, meant to withstand titanic amounts of firepower, folded in half as if they were made of paper. Metres thick slabs of armour were crunched into nothing as they collided. A vast number of decks were smashed to a pulp as the impromptu kinetic weapon struck home, its huge mass compensating for its relatively slow pace. It wasn't enough to destroy the dreadnaught, not even enough to cripple it, but it was brutally forced into another direction and that side effect was what he had been aiming for . Verloff watched the carnage for a few moments, silently praying that his enemy wasn't too experienced, but just in case that they were, he still sent a vast swath of missiles after them. When the enemy guns once again began to spit fire and thrusters flared to life in a desperate attempt to let them rejoin the assault, he knew that enough of the enemy crew had been wearing crash harnesses to survive the blow. Inertia could be a bitch in space. Still, he doubted there were too many people alive in there going by the reduced defensive fire and as his missiles slammed home and further levelled the flank of zeta he knew that was the fourth one out of the picture. two left. And twenty Nova Cannons that could still fire in the next five minutes.

He glanced at the status display of his own vessel and grimaced. Thousands were dead, massive damage across several sectors and still the damage kept climbing, to summarise the rain of red that filled his screen. His crew was still fighting with bravery that bordered fanaticism. He glanced at the enemy and called for all remaining Novas to fire, scouring target alpha's hull clean by courtesy of melting it entirely.. Now he only had the one to deal with. Glaring warning lights flashed to life as his starboard generators went into critical overload and a massive array of armoured slabs disguised as bulkheads slammed down, killing several engineers in the process and locking up many more, but protecting the vessel's integrity as they lost containment. An apocalyptic series of explosions tore through his flank and blew out a far too large part of his ship apart, once again throwing him in a new direction. His harness held as he was bounced around the bridge, the cables struggling to bring him back to a standstill. The Ad Astra was heavily wounded. At least a third of his crew were dead at this point. Shields were now a rarity rather than the rule and a fourth of his weapons were destroyed, with another fifth having been deprived of power.

Ahead of him loomed target beta. The Novican dreadnaught was wounded, but much less so than his. Both ships were slowly rolling around, presenting their strongest flank to the foe as their engines burned, slowly increasing the pace of the massive warships. Verloff knew that his ship was hurt beyond means, that it was on the verge of being crippled. His officers were constantly shouting damage reports from sections that had been cut off from the system and he filed them away on top of the hundreds of other reports that the flickering display was giving him. Sweat ran down his head in streams and he blinked to keep his eyes free, unable and unwilling to tear his sight away from the tactical displays as the two vessels raced towards one another, every remaining gun trained on their opponent as the two gargantuan warships approached one another for the final bout. It was an esoteric moment, almost holy. Two of the most powerful ships known to mankind, refusing to back down as wound upon wound was inflicted on them. Each of them carrying the hopes of their nation with them, accepting no less than total victory. With the first wave approaching rapidly the Novican commander knew he'd have no second chance. Five other dreadnaughts were burning nearby, all crippled by a single foe. It should have been impossible, but here they were.

Verloff grinned viciously when another mass round sailed past his ship and slammed into the damaged prow of the enemy, sinking deeply into the vessel as it shuddered under the heavy impact. The Silver Arrow was still in one piece, having stayed to the rear as much as possible, yet even so there was a trail of debris behind it as it accelerated forward, falling in formation beside the flagship. It wasn't alone. All around the Ad Astra the remnants of Fenris were forming up, a few battleships, a heavy cruiser here, a light cruiser there. Even the handful of surviving escorts were throwing themselves to the front, ready to sacrifice themselves for their commander, knowing their own guns were woefully inadequate to damage their foe, but ready to exchange their mass for even half a second of time. Dozens of other vessels were floating around, most of them crippled, but a few of them still showed some sort of activity as sporadic flashes lit up the void as their few active guns spat fire at the enemy.

On the other end was the final dreadnaught, ironically named Stalwart Defender. It was alone, its escorting fleet either vaporized or reduced to wrecks. It burned from dozens of wounds, shields flickering erratically as generators kept trying to reroute power to the damaged systems. A good part of the inside of the superstructure lay bare, but unlike their Imperial counterparts they had no internal shielding and anything not hermetically sealed was sucked into space, further worsening the damage. Even so they were in a far stronger position. The Imperials were on their last leg, damaged, bleeding and hurt. Almost completely crippled. Almost.

But as Verloff's hands danced across the display, manually directing the hundreds of batteries and guns towards the enemy, as his old, experienced eyes spotted weaknesses beyond what a computer could know, as tens of thousands of crew slaved away at their consoles, weapon ports, engineering decks and sensor stations, the Imperials proved that a wounded, cornered animal could lash out with vicious fury.

'We are the Per Aspera Ad Astra!' he roared as he charged towards the Stalward Defender. 'Through hardships!' his voice rang out, echoing through the hallways as he worked his crew into a further frenzy. Blows were exchanged and damage kept mounting on both sides The Novican commander saw the damage reports come in and eyed them incredulously as more and more systems became unresponsive as the Imperial flagship somehow poured out even more firepower. Decks crumbled, guns were blown apart, generators were targeted and became fiery blossoms as they consumed even more of the superstructure. Perfectly aimed salvos struck in unison across a vast area, causing secondary explosions that somehow connected and further ate away at his ship. The commander tried to match it, but he found himself outmatched by the merciless assault, unable to keep pace with the impossible barrage that the wounded flagship was throwing out. He roared in frustration. They were so close. They were on the verge of destroying the enemy dreadnaught. They had come in with six of their own! Verloff couldn't survive those odds! He couldn't!

'TO THE STARS!' the Imperial Admiral bellowed as the final threshold was crossed and the Stalwart Defender fell silent, its guns destroyed, its outer hull stripped away and vulnerable innards laid bare. Verloff panted and sagged into his harness, his breath running ragged through the mask. They were alive. They had made it. Lord in heaven, they'd made it! Less than a third of Fenris was still combat capable. Half his crew was dead. The Ad Astra was more wreck than ship. But as the first wave overtook him, two Citadel-classes sliding into escort positions beside him, their thrusters flaring to bring them to a halt beside the flagship, he realised that they had done it. His final card was still hidden. Six enemy dreadnaughts were crippled, and as the newly arrived reinforcements were now laying into the defenceless vessels with a brutal ferocity that surprised him, they were going to be more than just crippled in about ten minutes.

'To all crew, stand down,' he whispered, his voice hoarse. 'Begin emergency repairs. Keep yourselves alive. We've bled enough today.' He could only guess at just how many people he had lost and that emotion warred with the pride at what they had accomplished. Six to one. Six to one. The overwhelming feelings choked him slightly, but he forced the words out, ignoring the tears slowly rolling down his wrinkled cheeks. 'Ladies and gentlemen, I am beyond proud of you. Six enemy task forces assaulted us. Six enemy dreadnaughts clashed with us. And we have won. I have no way to express my gratitude to all of you, for your bravery, your exemplary skill, your selfless commitment to your duty. You are what makes the Empire great. As your Admiral I am privileged beyond means to lead you into battle. Many of us have died in this battle. Their sacrifices will be remembered. They were our brothers, our sisters.'

He closed his eyes and was glad for the harness as he didn't trust his feet to keep him standing right now. So many more lost. For a stupid, needless war. For a betrayal that made no sense. It invoked sadness in him. And anger. But those were emotions that did not matter now. His crew was looking at him. His task force was looking at him.

'Rejoice!' he shouted, shackling his voice to his will. 'We have done the impossible! We scored an impossible victory. You are heroes one and all! And now!' he roared, switching the frequency from Fenris to the entirety of Nemesis. 'Now we pay them back for their offences! KILL THEM ALL!'

A massive cheer went up from the entire armada as morale soared as the information raced through the fleet. The leading admirals had been aware of the peril their commander had faced, but now it trickled down to the youngest recruit. As Verloff once again resumed command of the entire fleet he grinned at what he found. The Novican countercharge had been brave, but it had also left massive holes in their lines, which his commanders had greedily pounced upon. Idrina's flagship was a molten ruin, their lines broken and battered. When the bitch had died, what little cohesion that had remained had died with her, with their experienced commanders leading the charge against him. The political appointee system in the Novic Confederacy had come to bite them in the ass as the Imperial task forces mercilessly drove in between them, routing the more cowardly elements and shattering those brave and foolish enough to hold their ground. With overall command demolished, the fight had gone from a battle to a massacre. They had gambled everything in their attempt to destroy him and he took a sadistic delight in knowing that they had failed. He double checked Lebriski's far away position and was pleased to see that the man was still keeping his fleet together and slowly floating further away from him, unable to turn and at this point probably quite unwilling to as well.

Vice-Admiral Lessirk had also been forced to engage, the enemy strike forces had drawn too close to the logistical fleet running under stealth and had received the shock of their lives when they discovered that Lessirk's Citadel had been doing the same, as the heavy tugs had been pulling it along with them. A dreadnaught couldn't run under stealth, but it could shut off its engines entirely and let itself be towed along by a dozen logistical tow vessels. Verloff smirked at that, his Vice-Admiral was as insanely creative as he was. That had been a one sided battle as well, Lessirk's task force more than capable of dispatching the handful of strike forces prowling the area, the few survivors running back to the planet to seek cover under the orbital defence grid's heavy guns.

Yes, Verloff thought with a smirk. It was time for him to bring the fight to Lufer itself.

In the Novican headquarters Grand Admiral Kolpovka was chewing down his cigar, not caring about the ashes trickling own on his uniform. He was fuming. Idrina had been as useless as he had expected and her death or that of her fleet hadn't come as a surprise. No, it was Verloff's refusal to die even when the odds were stacked against him that was the source of his anger. Then there was the refusal of Idrina's fleet to obey orders. They had turned tail, made stupid assaults and been generally incompetent the moment the battle had turned south. These weren't the veteran fleets of the front. They had been nothing but morons who had earned their post through political backstabbery and nepotism rather than merit. A leader was only as good as the men under his command, and Idrina's buffoons had sidelined him entirely, allowing the Imperials to devour them for marginally low losses. He did not blame the few experienced commanders for their sally towards his counterpart. He hadn't expected the bastard to survive either, nor Nemesis to keep on their full on assault. He had underestimated the Imperials' ability to fight on independently, a mistake he wouldn't make again.

He stared at the display, at the massive green line that represented the orbital grid. It carried more firepower than what Nemesis could bring to the table. If he had been Verloff, he'd have turned around, linked up with his logistics train, rearmed and then shot Lebriski's force to bits, before retreating. It was likely to scare the Parliament into a completely defensive stance and that result in an overall Imperial victory.

He doubted that Verloff would do that. The Imperial seemed intent on bringing the battle to his very doorstep. As he rearranged the orbital fortresses to provide maximum coverage, he tried to figure out what the bastards were planning. Focus on one area and punch a hole to bombard parts of the planet from? Unlikely, they'd never hit anything important and they'd lose too many ships on the way in. Land troops maybe? Also unlikely. The headquarters was a fortress and unless they kept the defence grid fully occupied they'd be able to blow the Imperial troops to smithereens.

'What are you up to Verloff?' the Grand Admiral mused. 'In either case, you better hurry. Reinforcements are on the way.'

No, Kolpovka thought. This battle is far from over.