[b]Uslam, Aryon Mountains, Two Klicks South of Acting Imperial Command[/b]

The sky was on fire. 

Xaxus Shang stood at the old mine entrance- a small, rusted metal doorway in the side of a sheer rockface- the ruin of his face turned up, enjoying for a moment the spectacular and terrible display of light as the Moff and the Admiral's ships brawled in low orbit. Flashes of emerald and crimson scarred the sky; fiery trails burned in all directions as debris rained down from the embattled vessels and ignited on descent- like a thousand comets, like the stars falling. Lightning arced through the clear winter sky: stray energy shots dissipating in the atmosphere.

"Beautiful," he said, wiping spit from where it had leaked and frozen through gaps in his mutilated left cheek.

"Trapped the old pirate up there, I guess," said a Bothan soldier to Shang's right. He was peering through a scope not at the sky but at the Imperial Command Center down the valley, an octagonal compound of grey plasteel and low, square buildings at the base of a long white slope. The command facility was bustling with activity. The faint whine of TIE patrols was a clear beneath the howling mountain gale and the thunderous crackle of the orbital battle, "That's it for fleet support."

"Wouldn't be so sure," said Shang, "I've worked under Xen's command before. The man has a way. Rumor is he's spooky, touched by the Force, but don't let him hear you say that. Unreconstructed Seperatist- he doesn't take kindly to Jedi types, or the other kind."

"I doubt any of us'll get much to say to the good Admiral again," replied the Bothan. 

Shang shrugged and turned his gaze from the heavens to the men around him. A semi-circle of SpecOps soldiers in white fatigues, hunkered down among the pines and the boulders, most wearing rebreathers and goggles against the cold.

Two blasts of static came over their comm-units. The wookie's team had planted the charges.

Shang clicked his communicator thrice, then once, not speaking. 

[i]Get to the speeders. Blow it when you're out of range.[/i]

[b]In Orbit, the [i]Ancestral Right[/i][/b]

The observation chamber was dark, like the nave of a temple, the only light coming from the blue glow of the central holodisplay, Uslam's pale radiance, and the turbolaser exchange taking place just beyond the thick glass windows.

Admiral Xen stood at the holo-projector, where the ferocious and silent battle outside was playing out in miniature before him. His head was bowed, like a man at prayer.

He was not praying. 

His narrowed eyes were tracking the markers for Intruder squadron as they completed their run on [i]Punisher[/i]. He watched as the squadron CO's X-Wing flashed red, then was gone, and as the XO's ship spun masterfully out of flak and tracer fire, taking out two TIEs in the same number of seconds.

[i]Clang[/i]. The XO's callsign was [i]Clang[/i]. 

The Admiral tilted his head a moment, seemed to consider something, then straightened up. Outside, [i]Punisher[/i] drew near, venting flames and atmosphere from at least four serious holes punched in her hull by Cutlass and Intruder. Good sized, but not fatal. Xen would see to that. Behind [i]Punisher[/i] loomed [i]Vronskr[/i], already directing long-range fire at the rebel flag-ship, shrugged off for the moment by the [i]Right[/i]'s intact shields.

The battery exchange between Xen's battlegroup and the [i]Punisher[/i] intensified as the rebels closed on the Star Destroyer. The Imperial vessel's forward shields glowed red, with ragged tears beginning to open along the energy seams.

"Alright, get in close and ugly," said Xen, "Keep [i]Punisher[/i] between us and [i]Vronskr[/i]."

Captain Zyme shot back a terse acknowledgement from the [i]Right[/i]'s bridge.

"All vessels," said Xen, "get your shots in on the Victory destroyer, then jump. Scimitar and Saber squadrons stay with me, keep those TIEs off the [i]Right[/i] and use the vulture-screen to absorb fire. When I jump, you jump. Intruder, Cutlass, Broadsword and Stranger squadrons, get out of here." 

Acknowledgments crackled in over the comms. The [i]Right[/i] pulled alongside [i]Punisher[/i] and let loose a catastrophic broadside, popping the Imperial ship's shields in a bloom of azure and crimson light. 

The rebel fleet unloaded on the un-shielded Victory as one by one ships disappeared into hyperspace, fleeing to relative safety. Not all of them were so lucky. [i]Vronskr[/i]'s guns claimed the Corellian corvette [i]Ashland[/i] and the Recusant destroyer [i]Gamekeep[/i] as they powered up to jump.

Xen watched their icons disappear on his display. He spat onto the deck with a sneer.

Meanwhile, his flagship and [i]Punisher[/i] danced, the rebel ship pivoting constantly to keep out of [i]Vronskr[/i]'s line of fire. The space between [i]Punisher[/i] and [i]Ancestral Right[/i] was a blinding flurry of scarlet and jade. Explosions raked [i]Punisher[/i]'s failing hull and the vessel began to come apart, its serrated-dagger frame splitting crookedly. 

[i]Vronskr[/i]- eager for a chance to take the rebel flag ship- fired on its lesser cousin, obliterating it and sinking a row of shots into the [i]Right[/i]'s prow, setting scores of decks ablaze. 

There was an azure flash, and it was over. The [i]Right[/i] was gone.

Xen had fled. The only rebel ships remaining were a handful of suddenly mindless vulture droids and the burning husk of [i]Gamekeep[/i] spinning in the void, amid the vast smoldering ruin of [i]Punisher[/i].

Uslam's orbit belonged to the Empire once more.