"Get the hell out of here before we blast you with the main battery."
A stunning diplomatic move was displayed by one of my captains, who stood guard over the planet Lannik. Located at the intersection of two hyperlanes, Lannik was a tasty morsel for Traders of all stripes, smugglers, and other riffraff... until the Helldivers arrived.
Now the planet rejoices in stunning patriotism for the Republic and democracy in particular. There is peaceful life on the planet, and trade and entering under our protectorate allowed Lannik to become one of the planets where the Baobab Merchant Fleet built its station, which brought in even more profits.
We also cleared out all the pirates here, so the inhabitants of the planet were on our side in almost all matters, especially in opposing the Neimoidians from the Trade Federation who were crawling in here.
"This is outrageous! Do you even understand who you are pointing your weapons at?" The noseless xeno tried to be brave, but even without knowing about the cowardly-lying nature of their entire race, any fool would have noted that he was ready to soil his pants when the Adjudicator's guns began to turn, and Dreadnoughts and smaller ships began to flank the famous Federation transport. "You are making a mistake! We are conducting free trade, and you have no right..."
"We know about your free trade. That's why half the holds are stuffed with spice and other crap." The captain of the vessel clearly wanted to spit on the floor. Out of habit or just for atmosphere, the fleet commander was already starting to lose patience and was therefore becoming increasingly aggressive. "You were told you aren't welcome here, but you keep coming and coming... I'm telling you for the last time, take your tub out of here while you still can."
Firing a warning shot over the huge donut, the Adjudicator sailed confidently forward, clearly preparing for battle.
The hologram of the frightened Neimoidian vanished, and a moment later the Federation ship began its jump into hyperspace to get away from the crazy mercenaries as quickly as possible.
"That's pretty much how it all went." As soon as the recording ended, the captain of that very Adjudicator stood at attention and, loyally devouring the ceiling with his eyes, showed no doubt in the correctness of his actions. On the whole, I agreed with him, because we have a very clearly defined contract with the Baobabs not to let Neimoidian rats into their territory anymore... but my subordinate had conducted some very aggressive negotiations.
"Though, whatever. We need to fight them a bit anyway to knock them down a peg. Otherwise, at this rate, they'll take over all the cargo shipping in the galaxy."
In fact, I didn't care what ships carried goods between planets; the Helldivers had their own fleet plus the Baobab fleet, which for a small fee and protection set up a natural cargo flow for us, allowing us not to worry about infrastructure. Cheap and profitable for everyone... well, except for the senators, some planetary rulers, the Trade Federation... damn, that's quite a list.
Well, it doesn't matter.
"Good job. Next time be a bit softer so the whole conflict isn't dumped on us." I stop the fleet commander's response with a wave of my hand. "The Neimoidians are crawling into our systems everywhere, so you'll easily get lost against the background of dozens of other cases of their insolence. There's nothing to worry about for now; they are violating contracts with the Baobabs and dumping prices far too boldly."
Nodding at my words, the ship's Captain struck his fist against his chest and was about to head off into the sunset, leaving the high command to reflect in solitude, when an alarm signal echoed through the ship.
Exchanging a glance with the Captain, we simultaneously bolted toward the bridge, leaving the briefing room at full speed, where we had spent nearly two hours straight discussing those noseless freaks. Not exactly my favorite way to spend time, but... unfortunately, there was no other way.
The moment we burst through the door, messages from the duty shift arrived on the communicator.
"Captain, Commander Altman. Unidentified ships have entered the system. Two dozen vessels of various sizes and configurations. Most likely a pirate clan in full force. But visually, we haven't detected any characteristic symbols either." Swallowing the dryness in his throat, the officer continued speaking in a calm and confident tone, even though he was reporting very quickly. "But besides them, several Trade Federation ships emerged behind the pirate fleet. Judging by appearances, they are converted container ships."
"Damn aliens," the ship's Captain tried to keep up with me, but the man clearly lacked the physical conditioning to chase the best Helldiver in our glorious team. "The pirates are obvious—they're there in case anyone from our fleet manages to escape, to make sure they don't snitch to the Judicial Forces..."
The Captain began to explain, his breathing becoming even more labored, and a few seconds later he regretted his decision, but out of stubbornness, he persistently continued his story.
"I'm surprised the freaks decided to act so brazenly. They probably bribed a couple of fat-cats to turn off the transmitters so they wouldn't hear our distress signals. I wouldn't be surprised if the buoys with HoloNet, communications, and other transmitters aren't working..."
"Correct, sir. Only internal ship communications are available," an officer from the bridge responded instantly. They certainly have things well-handled here; they must have been working together for a long time and understand each other perfectly. "Initially, there was a transmission from the Federation ships—offering surrender—but now they are hastily turning their ships around. As are the 'pirates,' for that matter. I think they'll leave the system in a couple of minutes."
We heard the last sentence in person as we ran onto the ship's bridge. Stepping inside, I was initially a bit confused, as the atmosphere here was surprisingly calm and even somewhat cheerful.
"The pirate ships are beginning preparations for a hyperspace jump. Small vessels will be able to start in a couple of minutes, larger ones within half an hour. The Trade Federation ships will take the longest, but unfortunately, we still won't be able to catch them..."
With a sarcastic smile, watching the fleeing dots on the map, the Captain's deputy stood at attention and reported. While I was simply amused by this fact, the Captain of the Adjudicator was clearly not very pleased, as he had essentially run and strained himself for nothing.
But I had something to cheer him up.
"Well, it's a pity, of course, but..."
"To all ships, this is Commander Altman speaking. Prepare for jump. We will follow the Federation ships with our full complement." As soon as my first words faded, a clamor and frantic activity began on the ship. Microphones and speakers crackled with orders, and officers stomped away to their battle stations. The ship's Captain broke into a satisfied smile, though he apparently harbored final doubts, which I generally understood. "Call Deputy Commander Somnia, tell her to send the reserve fleet here to relieve you; this is a priority task."
"It will be done." With a decisive nod, the ship's Captain, with my silent permission, stepped forward and began managing his flotilla, while I headed to the hangar. I needed to get to my temporary flagship, which was now surrounded by four twin ships and a whole host of smaller vessels...
***
"This is simply terrible! We were told there would only be a small security fleet!" Pacing nervously from side to side, rubbing long thin fingers adorned with expensive rings, a middle-aged Neimoidian in rich robes was ready to collapse into hysterics. "No one warned me that we would have to fight an entire armada of ships!"
"Perhaps this is the machination of your enemies, My Lord." Bowing disparagingly, one of the deputies—the first to chime in—took the brunt of the blow. Drawing the attention of his superior kinsman, the young Neimoidian spoke confidently, with a hint of sycophancy in his voice. "Most likely they were trying to kill you at the hands of these savage raiders from the Outer Rim! I am sure of it, My Lord!"
"Hmm, you think so?" Pensively stroking his chin, the head of the punitive fleet, who had been promised easy military victories and lucrative contracts, slumped tiredly into the Captain's chair, taking a glass of whiskey from a helper droid. "It is quite possible... But who exactly was it? There are too many candidates..."
Thoughtfully sorting through the names of his opponents and "friends" in his head, the Neimoidian released the remnants of his anger and fear, focusing entirely on his thoughts. Meanwhile, his deputies breathed a sigh of relief, showing every possible sign of approval to the newcomer who had played his part so well.
But the music didn't play for long.
"Captain, the radar shows disturbances in hyperspace." One of the droids turned its head toward the Neimoidians and, in its serene and tediously nasal voice, dropped staggering news. "Large disturbances, presumably thirty to forty large-tonnage ships..."
"Could those fools have followed us?" Looking through the viewport at a large pirate base, around which many ships of the space bastards had gathered in the company of a dozen converted Trade Federation transports. Confidence flowed like a river from the representative of the cowardly and skittish race. The alien smiled importantly and, rubbing his hands, passed the command to the rest of the fleet based in the system.
In just a few seconds, the first droid fighters flew out of the numerous hangars, their sheer numbers obscuring the view of the pirate shipyard.
The space criminals began to turn their ships and form into a semblance of battle order, while the Trade Federation "Lucrehulk-class" ships drifted lazily past them. The overconfident captains of the former container ships were firmly convinced that they could withstand any warships with their makeshift creations. After all, their vessels were larger, they had more guns, thicker armor, and a vast number of droids currently leaving the hangars.
And they didn't care that until recently these huge, clumsy hulks were carrying cargo and only a couple of years ago had they begun to be converted into a semblance of combat vessels.
They didn't care that they had never been in battle.
They didn't care that despite all theoretical calculations, the former container ships had never passed the test of combat.
"To the entire fleet, prepare for battle..."
Before the brave Neimoidian could finish, an order of warships burst out of the darkness of hyperspace toward them, immediately opening fire in all directions.
The massive guns took less than a minute to lock onto the clumsy Federation vessels, and a moment later, hundreds of turbolaser bolts rained down on the nearest ship.
A flash!
Ripping through the forward armor plates and collapsing the shield, the projectiles reached the central part of the ship. Tearing the sphere to pieces, the turbolasers pushed further, mangling the plasteel and leaving colorful streaks on the charred edges.
For a few seconds, the bolts rained down on the defenseless center of the ship—the Core Ship—until they pierced it through, simultaneously wrecking the reactor.
"Gods!" Standing frozen like a pillar of salt, the head of the Neimoidian fleet watched in shock as the first of the ships entrusted to him fell to pieces. Splitting in half, the ship's outer ring flew off in different directions, carried away by the force of the central part's explosion. "This simply cannot be..."
The next Lucrehulk-class tried to move out of the line of fire, but the combined synchronous fire of four dozen vessels tore a huge chunk out of it, causing the ship to list down and to the left, taking it off the line of attack but also effectively knocking it out of the fight.
Suddenly, the ship on which the Neimoidian naval commander was located lurched violently. Miraculously staying on his feet, the noseless alien grabbed the handle of his expensive and luxurious chair. Terrified and nearly broken, he didn't even have time to ask a question before the panicked scream of one of his deputies hit his ears.
"We have a breach! The shield on the port side failed and several escape pods pierced the hull..."
"Escape pods? But no ships were destroyed nearby! What pods? It's too far to the debris of the nearest Lucrehulk-class or the pirate trash..."
"Alarm! Intrusion! Alarm! Intrusion!" The synthetic voice of the ship's AI grated on the ears of everyone gathered. Staring in horror at the screen that opened before their eyes, the four Neimoidians watched as a crowd of soldiers in what looked like heavy armor burst inside and began destroying their B1 battle droid models almost with their bare hands. "Enemy boarding party detected. Measures required to protect the central part of the ship, repeat..."
"We need to get out of here immediately!"
Brushing off the minor deputy, the fleet leader frantically considered what to do. A funny fact: when it comes to running away or hiding, Neimoidian brains work much faster and more rationally, so a solution was devised instantly.
"I propose we undock the Core Ship and retreat while we have the chance." Without a second thought, so as not to doubt the decision made, the ship's commander pressed a couple of keys on the touch screen and, after waiting for the confirmation command, undocked the Core Ship.
"Agreed. Excellent. Wonderful idea," the Neimoidians shouted in unison.
"Well, it's not for nothing that I became Captain!"
Ignoring the panicked shouts of the technical staff and other crew members left in the outer part of the ship, the Core Ship smoothly left its place and sped away from the escalating battle at full power.
***
The space battle in the Pirate system erupted in the silent depths of space; here, the darkness was now pierced by bright flashes of laser fire and bursts of explosions.
Against the backdrop of the black abyss of stars, the massive warships of the Helldivers—the Adjudicators—formed into battle order, their sharp lines and sturdy armor resembling predators ready for the attack. Sweeping everything from their path, they charged forward zealously, literally tearing through the enemy formation and forcing opposing ships to scramble out of their way.
Unaccustomed to space battles of such scale, the pirates and Neimoidians scattered like cockroaches frightened by light.
And just like that, the Adjudicators crushed these cursed parasites.
These deadly machines, adorned with the proud scars of past battles, looked with contempt at the more numerous but outdated vessels of the Trade Federation and the pirates gathering at the old shipyard station, built once for peaceful purposes but now the center of chaos.
The barrels of heavy turbolasers and laser cannons worked without stopping. The ship crews gave their all, sending thousands of gifts of tibanna into the enemy.
Alarm signals filled the cockpits of the pirate vessels, and at that very moment, the mercenaries surged forward under a barrage of bright flashes of various colors.
The engines of the Adjudicators roared, followed by the hastily flying Dreadnaughts and Carrack-class light cruisers. Surrounded on all sides by small vessels and fighters, they established a four-sided wedge, in the center of which towered Altman's temporary flagship.
Numerous salvos, tearing through the silence, rolled across the open space abyss, and countless laser bolts sped toward the enemy. They gathered in dense rows, as if the stars themselves had compressed, destroying the enemies of the Helldivers with streams of light.
The Trade Federation ships, once simple container ships, were now adapted for war, but even with new weapons, they could not handle the onslaught of the mercenaries.
Their reactors couldn't cope, the armor welded over the top flew off after a couple of shots, and the external racks for numerous fighters and droid control antennas quickly turned into debris that hindered ship control.
Torpedoes flew in waves, leaving bright tails behind them. Bursting into the enemy's protective shields like exotic hawks into a flock of partridges, they added even more scarlet and yellow to the light show as detonating warheads tore the vessels apart.
Stricken ships began to shake, eventually falling apart under the powerful salvos of the Helldivers.
Those who could no longer continue the fight or tried to save themselves felt what a real boarding action by a superior opponent was like.
This was not a battle with savages far from civilization, nor a fight with poor traders who barely had enough money for a couple of blasters.
Battles raged on their decks, slowly turning into a slaughter: pirate crews tried to use their numerical advantage to storm, but the training and composure of the mercenaries did their job. The Helldivers, knowing no mercy and having passed through the grinders of a dozen small wars, left them no chance.
Fighters patrolling the space intertwined in the sky like acrobats, hunting each other. The maneuvers were spectacular; every pilot was persistent, using all tricks to gain an advantage over the opponent or swiftly pulling away to draw out the pursuit.
One of the Helldiver fighters turned and, using thermal targets, created a screen of torpedoes that knocked an enemy fighter off course, leaving nothing but a cloud of debris.
Stupid droids with cheap brains could replace the fallen as much as they wanted, but they still remained simple targets in a shooting gallery, for whom the attempt to shoot down an experienced assault pilot turned into an impossible task.
A pirate ship suddenly veered to the other side and tried to ram the nearest frigate. This ramming became the culmination of despair. As if giving some non-verbal signal, the enemy fleet collapsed and split...
Some, in a panic, pushed their engines to the maximum, sacrificing everything just to hide from the inevitable punishment of Liberty in the form of a turbolaser salvo. Others froze like frightened wompas, desperately trying to contact anyone, hoping to bargain for their lives...
Still others acted most heroically, trying with their last strength to shoot down or inflict at least some damage on the hated enemy... It was a pity that such brave souls were too few in the fleet of cowards and criminals.
A small raid that was supposed to allow the Federation to draw the enemy's forces into a skirmish in the Lannik system, to buy time to gather forces and prepare for a small victorious war of several battles...
Turned into horror and collapse—a defeat like a terrible slap in the face—bringing the Viceroy to his senses.
***
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