| James_McIntyre | Date: Tuesday, 25 Aug 2015, 3:07 PM | Message # 1 |
 Ensign
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| McIntyre had ordered a stand-down for rest three hours prior to commencement to the operation. His ships had formed up into an approximation of an arrowhead formation; the Liberation taking a point high with the Emancipation below and the Reliance and Judgment between them, pushed out to the left and right, respectively and a few kilometers between each vessel. Behind them, the transports had paired up alongside one another, stretching back like a thick, stubby line and at the 'point' of the arrowhead were the starfighters, slowly rotating in and out from resting.
He'd composed and delivered his message to Admiral Tarkona; with the fellow's reply, McIntyre felt it was quite safe to begin to act. Molavar was expected to be lightly defended; something in the realm of a frigate or a light cruiser to keep an eye on it until Cole's fleet arrived to pound some its seedy spaceports and force a surrender or all personnel on planet. The Alliance Colonel was taking a stab in the dark guessing at Cole's plans, granted, but from what he knew of the man, it would be no surprise if he did order an orbital bombardment.
As the final hour turned into minutes, counting slowly down, ever more, McIntyre experienced one of those highly unpleasant moments of jittery doubt. Was his force to small to skirmish with Cole's sector fleet? No, it wouldn't matter. McIntyre was running a rearguard action; Tarkona's Fourth Battle Group was more than sufficient. Then again, the man had a pair of DP20s himself, a rebuilt carrier and an Acclamator for a flagship. Perhaps McIntyre should have asked Admiral Ackbar for Rullon's help as well? No, no. Committing one fleet was enough for the operation. Committing one entire battle group and McIntyre's rescue force was more than enough ships for likely little enough gain.
With any luck, however, McIntyre's forces would be able to slip in and out of areas relatively quickly, while Tarkona pulled Cole's attention elsewhere. On the bridge now, for the final countdown to jump, ten minutes prior, McIntyre did his best to joke and place at ease some of his bridge crew, sharing a few words here and there of encouragement. Glancing over the shoulder of his TacCom officer, he could see the display for himself. All things were in readiness. All things prepared.
"T-minus thirty," rang the navigator's voice.
"Have the fleet standby," McIntyre ordered. "They jump on our mark. Synchronized. Know your escape plans if we run into a trap, people."
His orders were replayed over the drone of the navigator counting down. "Five... four... three... two... one... mark."
Around the ship, the stars blurred to the lines of hyperspace. It would take a little under an hour at top speed to make Molavar. By then, Cole should have been at Roon, if all went according to plan.
Colonel James McIntyre
Alliance Army
Abrion Sector Irregulars
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