[b][u]Outer Rim, Esstran Sector, The Bridge of the Immolator[/b][/u]

---

[I]Toys[/I]

It was beyond amusing. In their time, droids had been security, laborers, the odd tank. They had never been depended upon to be an army. It was laughable, and a grave weakness. Biologicals were not vulnerable to ion strikes, at the very least. He wasn't ready to trigger the ion pulse of the capital ships, it would knock out their own sensors and leave them open to the attack of the battleships, but there were many other ploys up the sleeve of the Pureblooded Sith. Through the use of battle meditation, a skill held by a handful of individuals each generation, the image he perceived of the battlefield was greater than any computer, any individual, could perceive. Possibilities and eventualities appeared before him, before he tugged on one thread of fate.

His own ship powered forwards, the surprising speed of the capital ship closing with the group of embattled enemy battleships and away from its twin-ship, dealing with the fighters, meanwhile scrambling its fighters and bombers. In committing their light craft entirely to one ship, the intruding fleet had left itself exposed, to pilots a little more dangerous than droids. As one Capital Ship rushed closer to the fleet to engage, the other seemed to hang in suspended animation, make little effort to stop the boarding craft, but instead strikers bombers out of the void by the squadron, heavy guns only falling silent when the enemy bored into them. Before they could set up clear bombing runs, the capital ship roared into action, lacking its heavy batteries, megamasers continued to pound the attacking squadrons, as its own fighters surged to defend it, creating a temporary barrier that few bombers could break through, even if their survival against the combined fighters would not last long. The powerful engines of the Wailing Doom pushed it towards the planet, allowing both its own thrust and gravity to push it towards the center of the system, and just about towards the fighting, but in a vague diagonal line.

Meanwhile, the frigates continued to weave around the enemy's larger vessels, joined by the firepower of fighters and bombers from the Immolator, their agility kept the enemy ships from forming crossfires, even if still the powerful enemy guns were taking a toll. As the Immolator pulled close to the fighting, Chohen stood, his head turning, burning eyes boring into the Admiral beside him.

"Ready the boarding spears."