**Chapter 424**
**Orbital Battle of Ryloth – Part 2**
**Providence-class Dreadnought – Bridge**
Admiral Dua Ningo gripped the railing of the command walkway, his large Sullustan ears twitching with barely contained rage. The elder Sullustan had served in fleet actions long before the Clone Wars ever began — first as a Commerce Guild admiral, then as a true patriot of the Confederacy's navy. After the loss of Admiral Trench, many had looked to him as one of the few organic commanders with real experience. Dooku had pulled him from the stalled siege of Foerost specifically to support Wat Tambor after the Neimoidian's first disastrous attempt to take Ryloth. Mar Tuuk had failed. Now it was Ningo's turn.
And he was losing.
"Droid!" he shouted, slamming a fist onto the tactical console. "Your tactics said we would win! Why are we losing?"
The tactical droid's photoreceptors flickered as it processed the question. "Admiral, I did not calculate for the Republic ships' firepower reaching us at this extreme range. Their heavy batteries exceed all known Venator-class performance profiles."
The Providence-class Dreadnought shuddered violently as a nearby Sabaoth Destroyer was torn apart by concentrated green turbolaser fire. Debris spiraled past the viewport in glowing fragments.
"Admiral, we have lost fifteen ships so far," a B1 command droid reported in its flat monotone.
Ningo's jowls quivered. "Then recalculate!"
The tactical droid continued, "If we bring in the 1st Reserve Fleet now, we can deploy our fighters. As of right now, our Vulture droids do not have the range and will fall prey to flanking fire before they can close."
That was the problem. Ningo had three full reserve fleets hidden in nearby positions, ready to spring an ambush. But without a proper fighter screen, the entire blockade would collapse under the weight of the enemy's long-range bombardment.
He exhaled sharply through his snout. "Contact the 1st Reserve Fleet. Order them to jump immediately. All remaining ships — reform into battle formation. All engines forward! We close the distance and bring them into our kill zone."
The bridge droids snapped into motion. Across the formation, engines flared as the surviving Munificents and Recusants began a desperate push forward, trying to bring their weapons to bear.
**Scene 2**
**Dagon POV**
**Resurgent-class Star Destroyer Gray Wolf**
I watched the tactical holomap with narrowed eyes as the CIS fleet began to shift. Five Providence-class Dreadnoughts moved into a protective shield formation around the five Lucrehulk-class battleships, while the rest of their ships — the surviving Munificents, Recusants, Techno Union frigates, and Sabaoth Destroyers — started advancing toward us.
"Clever," I murmured. "They're trying to close the range before we dismantle them completely."
"General, we are detecting hyperspace jumps," the sensor officer announced sharply.
I leaned forward. Twenty Dreadnought-class heavy cruisers and five 1-kilometer Providence-class carriers emerged from hyperspace on the flank of the enemy formation, their arrival vectors perfectly timed to support the push.
"So that was the plan," I said, a cold smile forming. "Reserves to overwhelm us once we committed."
I turned from the holotable. "Ethan, ready my Skelter. It's time to pay them a personal visit."
My aide nodded sharply. "Yes, General. Skelter R-16 prepped and on the electromagnetic launcher."
**Scene 3**
**Dagon POV**
I strode into the hangar bay where my personal fighter waited. The R-16 Skelter was a sleek, deadly machine. After losing my TIE Silencer, rebuilding it had felt pointless. Instead, I had poured resources into upgrading this more rugged, versatile craft. A kyber crystal — attuned and focused through Sith techniques — powered its enhanced systems. The fighter now boasted four rapid-fire miniguns, two electromagnetic pulse railgun launchers, and multiple missile deployment systems loaded with miniaturized whistling birds equipped with baridium charges. It was a monster in both dogfights and anti-capital ship strikes.
I climbed into the cockpit, sealing the canopy. The neural interface linked with my mind almost instantly, the dark side amplifying every sensation.
"Launch me," I ordered.
The electromagnetic launcher system on the *Gray Wolf* hummed to full power. With a bone-rattling surge, the Skelter was flung forward at incredible velocity, rocketing out of the hangar like a missile. I activated the sweep wings as soon as I cleared the magnetic field. The fighter's profile shifted, becoming even more agile as I streaked toward the enemy fleet.
The CIS commander had finally committed. Hundreds — then thousands — of Vulture droids poured out of the carrier reinforcements and Lucrehulks. No less than a thousand droid starfighters formed up into a massive swarm, racing to intercept my advancing fleet.
But I was already among them.
I reached out with the Force, wrapping my Skelter in a protective bubble of dark side energy. Red lightning crackled across the fighter's hull as I channeled power into the pulse cannons. My miniguns spun up with a high-pitched whine and opened fire.
Brilliant green bolts sprayed outward in sweeping arcs. Combined with the Force-amplified lightning pulsing through the weapons, each hit became devastating. Vulture droids exploded by the dozens. Their thin armor and delicate joints offered almost no protection against the onslaught. I rolled the Skelter through the heart of the swarm, miniguns never stopping, lightning arcing from my fighter to chain between multiple targets.
A flight of twenty Vultures tried to converge on my six o'clock. I triggered the electromagnetic pulse railguns. Two invisible waves of disruption slammed into them, frying their control systems instantly. As they tumbled helplessly, I unleashed a barrage of whistling bird missiles. The miniaturized projectiles screamed through space, baridium charges detonating in brilliant blue-white fireballs that consumed entire clusters of droids.
"General, your fighter is drawing massive aggro," came Ethan's voice over comms. "Forty-plus Vultures on your tail."
"Let them come."
I pulled the Skelter into a tight corkscrew, the inertial dampeners straining under the g-forces. The pursuing Vultures tried to match the maneuver but were too rigid, too predictable. My rear-facing miniguns shredded them. More lightning danced across the void, guided by my will, turning entire squadrons into scrap.
On the larger tactical display relayed to my HUD, I saw my heavy capital ships continuing their merciless bombardment. Another Munificent disintegrated. Two Recusant destroyers lost their forward sections. The CIS commander — whoever the organic was — was clearly panicking, throwing reserves forward in a desperate attempt to regain initiative.
But the range advantage was still mine. While their ships struggled to close, my XX-10 and ultra-heavy batteries kept pounding them.
I dove straight toward one of the newly arrived Providence carriers. Its point-defense lasers tried to track me, but I was too fast, too unpredictable. A barrage of baridium-tipped whistling birds slammed into its hangar bays, detonating deep inside. Secondary explosions rippled across the carrier's spine.
"Scratch one carrier," I muttered.
Hundreds of Vulture droids still swarmed around me, but their numbers were dropping rapidly. My Skelter danced through the chaos — a black-and-crimson blur of death. The Force bubble held firm even as stray laser fire glanced off it. Every time the dark side energy crackled, more droids died.
Admiral Ningo — though I didn't know his name yet — was learning the hard way what it meant to face a fleet that refused to play by expected rules.
I keyed the fleet channel. "All ships, maintain long-range fire on the Lucrehulks and Providences. Fighter screen, support my Skelter and clear the path for the next wave."
The orbital battle continued to intensify. Debris fields expanded where proud CIS warships had once held position. Ryloth's liberation was no longer in doubt — only how much it would cost the enemy.
And I was only getting started.