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🕑 Added 2025-05-29 16:40:28 +0000 UTCChapter 61: Iron Fang Strikes (Part 5)
Right now, the sheer 370 billion-ton mass of the Kushan mothership was generating enough gravitational pull to make a hyperspace jump impossible!
Despair filled Kuken’s eyes. “They charged in and started circling us, not to attack… but to use their gravity to trap us, to keep us from jumping to hyperspace? They planned this from the start? No… impossible!”
He roared in a frenzy, “I locked down that coward Qunto the second this started—no one could’ve leaked our plans! How did they know we were coming?!”
“Boss… could it be… that weird message we got earlier?” his first mate muttered.
Kuken’s mind flashed back. Before they’d even set out, their cruiser had picked up a strange signal—almost like someone tapping a microphone. They’d puzzled over it, cross-referenced every known code, but came up empty. In the end, they dismissed it as random noise.
Now, though, it hit him. That noise was the only possible leak!
“No!!!” Kuken bellowed, fury boiling over. “You think you can outsmart me? Not that easy! If I’m going down, I’m taking you all with me!”
He spun around, barking at the comms officer, “Send everything we’ve got to Black Sun! Get it to Vigo-Kash-Garulan! I want them dead! I want them to burn with me!”
The comms officer punched a few buttons, but nothing happened. His face crumpled. “It’s no good! The electronic jamming’s too strong! The signal won’t go through…”
“Useless!” Kuken snarled, raising his blaster and blowing the officer’s head off. “Someone else, get up here! Send that signal!”
Silence. Kuken scanned the bridge. Every pirate kept their eyes down, noses buried, too scared to meet his gaze or utter a word. His rage flared hotter. “What, you’re all useless? Someone step up! Get that message out, and I’ll make you rich—pure credits!”
He pointed his blaster at one pirate. “You! Can you do it?”
The pirate shook his head frantically, curling into a ball.
“You!” Kuken swung to another, but that one wouldn’t even glance at the blood-soaked comms station.
“Boss… maybe… we should surrender…” the first mate whispered.
“Surrender?” The word was poison to Kuken. “That thing out there is our prey! You want me to bow to my own prey?!”
His anger boiled over, and he jammed his blaster against the first mate’s head.
But the mate was done. Hands raised, head bowed, he shouted, “Surrendering might at least keep us alive, boss!”
“Pathetic! You’re all pathetic!” Kuken kicked the mate to the floor, pointing out the viewport. “Don’t you see? They’ve got nothing but tiny ships and fighters! We can still escape! Full speed ahead—push the ship to its limits, even if it tears itself apart!”
The other pirates snapped out of their stupor, scrambling back to their posts.
The Iron Fang cruiser’s engines roared to life, breaking away from the mothership and its swarm of fighters, barreling toward the outer edges of the Endor system.
Kuken grabbed another pirate, shoving him into the comms seat, blaster pressed to his skull. “Keep broadcasting! Don’t stop until that intel reaches Lord Garulan!”
Then he turned to the first mate. “Those fighters are no threat now. Don’t we still have two point-defense cannons? Station heavy guards on them—no one gets near! Except for the forward main cannon, aim every turret at those three frigates. Prioritize the fat-bellied one!”
The Iron Fang veered sharply. Its forward-mounted main cannon fell silent, but the four twin turbolaser turrets swiveled, unleashing a torrent of fire on the Hammer-class frigates.
The cruiser’s firepower was ferocious. Free from the mothership’s pull, it now focused its wrath on the other ships, revealing its true strength.
Under the relentless barrage, the Hammer-class frigate with twin turbolaser turrets lost its shields first. Its thick armor couldn’t withstand the pounding, and a massive explosion tore it apart, scattering debris across the void.
Ventus, piloting a Blade-class fighter, hammered the Iron Fang with everything he had. But the Blade was a cobbled-together junker—everything but the hull had been swapped out. Its infrared laser cannons could handle other fighters, but against a 315-meter warship, they were less than a mosquito bite.
Worse, the enemy had wised up. They’d stopped wasting shots on the mothership and were now focusing all their fire on the only real threat—the three Hammer-class frigates.
“No! We’re so close!” Ventus shouted into the comms. “Qi Jian, how much shield strength does their cruiser have left?”
“Mainframe’s scans say their shields are under 10%!” Qi Jian replied. “But even if we crack their shields, that cruiser won’t go down easy. Plus, Munte and the others are still on that ship.”
“How many Gemini missiles do we have left?”
“Thirty. The mothership’s production line is churning them out, but we only just cracked the Gemini missile tech. Stock and output are still low.”
“Prep the marines. The second those shields drop, board Aurek-class freighters and storm their hangar for a boarding action!” Ventus ordered. “Also, get a T-850 to pilot a fighter. Rig it with a trigger-type nuke. If the Aureks can’t get close, we’ll hit them with the nuke first!”
“But their firepower’s still too heavy. A fighter won’t get close enough to ram them,” Qi Jian said, shaking his head. “And without disabling their turrets, the Aureks trying to board is a suicide run…”
“Just do it! We can’t let that cruiser escape! This is our turf—no one comes and goes as they please!” Ventus’s voice was iron. “First Squadron, return to base! Load up every last Gemini missile! I swear, today, they’re not leaving this system!”
“Wait! Hyperspace signatures detected! More ships are jumping in!” the radar operator suddenly shouted.
Chapter 62: Iron Fang Strikes (Part 6)
Just then, near the planet Dawn, a flash of white light sparked in the void, and a disc-shaped ship materialized out of nowhere—a Corellian YT-1000 light freighter!
“It’s the Lancer! The Lancer we lost contact with!” Qi Jian shouted, his voice brimming with excitement.
Yuri Orlov’s booming laugh crackled through the comms. “Hahaha! Brothers, your VIP has arrived! Hahaha! I’m loaded for bear now—firepower to spare! Hahaha!”
Bathed in the glow of the nearby star, a proton torpedo mounted on the YT-1000’s side gleamed with a golden sheen.
“Yuri! How’d you get here?!” Ventus asked, his voice full of astonishment.
“No time for chit-chat, Administrator!” Yuri roared, still laughing like a madman. “This ship’s packing one proton torpedo. You know what to do! Hahaha! Oh, and I’m no pilot, so this bucket’s all yours!”
A glint of determination flashed in Ventus’s eyes. He barked into the comms, “All fighter squadrons, listen up! Protect the Lancer and get it back to the mothership! Tell Glory Judith to prep in the hangar—I’m teaming up with her to fly the Lancer!”
“Administrator, are you planning to…?” Qi Jian asked, uncertain.
“Boarding with the YV-865 Aurore freighter is too risky. I’ve got a plan to try first,” Ventus said, his gaze locked on the Hammerhead-class cruiser floating in the void.
“Roger that!”
“Understood!”
“Judith here—I’ve been ready for ages!”
Ventus swung his Blade fighter toward the mothership, and the rest of the fighters followed suit. Two squadrons stayed behind to harass the Iron Fang cruiser, while the others raced to escort the Lancer.
The Lancer’s hyperspace jump had spit it out in a bad spot—right in front of the Iron Fang. The pirates, spotting another ship, didn’t hesitate, unloading every gun they had on the freighter.
Inside the Lancer’s cockpit, old man Truda wrestled with the controls, barely keeping the ship on course toward the mothership. Vitaly Orlov sat in the co-pilot’s seat, a dog-eared ship manual open on his lap.
“Old man, our lives are in your hands!” Yuri said. Despite his bravado over the comms, he was visibly tense, eyes glued to the viewport. “Get us to that big ship, and you can name your price!”
“I’m doing my best!” Truda snapped, yanking at the controls.
“We can’t let the Lancer take a hit! Charge!” a squadron leader bellowed over the comms, diving fearlessly to throw off the Iron Fang’s aim.
The cruiser’s bow cannon fired, obliterating the fighter in a single blast.
But more fighters surged forward. With the Lancer’s rookie pilot struggling to dodge, they used their ships as shields, soaking up the cruiser’s fire.
Back at the mothership, Ventus’s Blade fighter screeched into the hangar. Before it fully stopped, he popped the canopy and leapt out. Glory Judith, a towering 1.9-meter-tall pilot with a muscular frame and a face that didn’t match her elegant name, was already waiting.
Flashing a grin full of big white teeth, Judith said, “It’s an honor to fly with you, Administrator!”
“We’re sinking that cruiser,” Ventus replied, slamming his fist against hers. “Let’s show anyone eyeing our turf that the Fourth Civilization isn’t to be messed with!”
…
The Lancer wobbled into view outside the mothership’s hangar, landing with a clumsy thud. Smoke poured from its hull, the result of grazing hits from the Iron Fang’s secondary cannons.
Covering the Lancer’s approach had cost the fighter squadron dearly—four ships destroyed, their pilots sacrificing themselves to shield the freighter.
The moment the hatch opened, Ventus and Judith stormed aboard. Yuri Orlov, his brother Vitaly, Truda, and two T-850 droids were inside.
Seeing Ventus, Yuri slumped, exhausted but still chuckling like a man who’d cheated death. “Hahaha… Administrator…”
Ventus didn’t ask questions. He pulled Yuri into a quick bear hug. “You’re okay. Thank you—you’ve given us a shot to take down that cruiser.”
Only then did he notice Yuri was drenched in cold sweat, a testament to whatever hell they’d been through.
Ventus ordered the T-850s to escort the others off the ship to rest, then slid into the pilot’s seat, buckling in. He sent one T-850 to man the turret.
Judith, who’d studied the YV-865 Aurore freighter and the YT-1000 extensively, was the obvious choice for pilot. Ventus had only dabbled, barely better than Vitaly. He had no business in the driver’s seat.
“Administrator, what are you doing?” Judith asked, alarmed.
“I’m flying,” Ventus said firmly. “We’ve got one proton torpedo, one chance. And the team that saved the escape pods just reported—Murt’s still on that cruiser. Trust me. You’re on co-pilot.”
“Understood,” Judith said, her face set with determination.
The Lancer’s engines were still hot. As soon as Yuri and the others disembarked, Ventus gunned the ship out of the hangar.
“Administrator, you’ve got eight minutes,” Qi Jian’s urgent voice came over the comms. “The cruiser’s turning constantly. It’s slower than the mothership in a straight line, but we can’t match its maneuverability. In 38 minutes, they’ll escape our gravity well. If you can’t pull this off in eight, we’ll stick to the original plan—force a boarding with the YV-865 Aurore.”
“Eight minutes. Got it,” Ventus said, a steely glint in his eyes.
He took a deep breath, reaching out to sense the Force around him.
No one had ever taught him how to use the Force. He relied on instinct, extending his mind outward to feel everything through the Force’s flow.
He figured he had some knack for it—whenever he focused, he could zero in like nobody’s business.
“Mainframe,” Ventus said, tweaking the Lancer’s systems to his liking, “use the technical specs Murt sent for the Hammerhead-class cruiser. Calculate where to fire this proton torpedo to disable the ship without triggering a chain explosion.”
Chapter 63: Iron Fang Strikes (Finale)
[Calculations complete. The Hammerhead-class cruiser has four engine exhausts: left and right maneuvering thrusters, the central main exhaust, and an upper auxiliary exhaust. You need to fire a proton torpedo into the upper auxiliary exhaust at a 10-15 degree angle. This will trigger an explosion 20 meters from the main engine. The blast-proof bulkheads will contain the explosion, preventing a chain reaction, but the electromagnetic pulse from the proton cloud will completely disable the engines.]
“Got it. I’ll give it a shot,” Ventus replied calmly.
Out there, over 60 Blade-class fighters were still hammering the Iron Fang cruiser with everything they had. But their Gemini missiles were spent, and the onboard infrared laser cannons were too weak to do more than tickle the enemy.
The two remaining Hammer-class frigates had become the main attack force. Their plasma bombs dealt massive damage to shields—a weapon originally designed for bombers in Homeworld, now mounted on frigates for even greater effect.
But this made them prime targets for the Iron Fang. The frigates had to keep dodging, leaving almost no chance to close in for a heavy barrage.
Even so, the relentless assault was pushing the Iron Fang’s shields to the brink.
Ventus piloted the YT-1000 Lancer into the fray. As soon as he entered range, the T-850 aboard manned the turret, unleashing a flurry of shots at the cruiser.
The Iron Fang diverted one of its secondary turrets to fire on the Lancer, but Ventus was in the zone. A single twin turbolaser turret was no match for his reflexes.
The real problem? The shields.
If they couldn’t break the cruiser’s deflector shields, any proton torpedo would detonate on contact, its energy dispersed across the entire shield. The damage would be negligible.
Ventus maneuvered the Lancer to the cruiser’s rear, constantly adjusting his angle. But the mainframe’s calculated firing path was brutally precise, and with the cruiser weaving to evade, he couldn’t line up the shot.
To make matters worse, the cruiser’s gunners must’ve sensed his plan. Another secondary turret swiveled to target him—right in its firing arc.
Time ticked by. The Iron Fang’s shields held, and Ventus still couldn’t find the perfect angle.
Using the Force to guide his adjustments while tracking the angles of the cruiser’s turrets to dodge their fire, Ventus was drenched in sweat.
Suddenly, a jolt of dread hit him—a warning through the Force. He yanked the controls, banking the ship hard, but it was too late.
A turbolaser bolt slammed into the Lancer. Even from a secondary turret, the blast was devastating. It shattered the Lancer’s shields in one hit, and the explosion tore into the hull, causing massive damage.
“Two minutes left, Administrator!” Qi Jian’s urgent voice crackled through the comms. “Your ship can’t take another hit! Pull back!”
“No!” Ventus roared. “The Fourth Civilization doesn’t have warriors who retreat!”
Another voice cut through the comms. “Judith, feed the calculations into the fire-control radar and keep correcting my course. T-850, once we’re in range, focus the turret on the cruiser—their shields are about to give. I need those deflectors down in three minutes!”
“Understood.”
“On it, Administrator.”
The Iron Fang was still fleeing, now over 400 kilometers from the mothership. If it reached 570 kilometers, it would escape the mothership’s gravity well and jump to hyperspace.
The two Hammer-class frigates abandoned evasion. Their pilots roared, charging straight at the cruiser, plasma bomb launchers firing nonstop. Dozens of pale blue orbs detonated against the Iron Fang’s shields.
Almost simultaneously, the cruiser’s guns struck one of the frigates. It vanished in a fireball, reduced to fragments in seconds.
But in that moment, the faint shimmer around the Iron Fang flickered and died.
The shields were down!
Ventus’s eyes sharpened. Ignoring the cruiser’s relentless gunfire, he swung back into firing position. The secondary turrets kept blasting, but he was all-in now. Every ounce of focus went into the Force, sensing each shot before it came, dodging with split-second precision.
“One minute left!” In the mothership’s command center, Qi Jian and Carls Wharton stared at the holographic display, veins bulging, fists clenched so tight their nails drew blood. “Launch the Aurek-class freighters now!”
Then, a massive explosion erupted inside the Iron Fang. Several compartments near the engines were consumed, outer armor blasted apart. Flames flared briefly before the vacuum snuffed them out, leaving only the shockwave rippling outward.
The explosion slowed the cruiser’s engines to a crawl.
“Thirty seconds!”
From the mothership’s hangar, a YV-865 Aurek-class freighter launched, carrying two T-850s and 70 fully armed marines. It rocketed toward the Iron Fang.
“Now!” Ventus’s eyes were bloodshot. He slammed the controls, finally locking into the perfect firing angle. “Fire!”
…
…
…
Ventus opened his eyes to find himself in the medbay. All around him, bottles, planters, and medical equipment floated in midair.
“What the…” he groaned.
“You awake, Administrator?” Munte’s voice came from nearby. “Good. I’m guessing you’re healed up, so maybe you can put this stuff down? I’ve been staring at this potted plant hovering over my head for half an hour, just waiting for it to smash my skull.”
Startled, Ventus nearly lost control, the objects wobbling. He quickly refocused, using the Force to steady them—especially the potted plant, now less than five centimeters from Munte’s head.
