Heller didn't like this. That is, he didn't like it before the readings had shown that the New Republic ship—the Pioneer—was armed, shielded, and combat ready. He had been put in the uncomfortable position of having to knowingly violate the peace treaty with the Republic and capture one of their vessels, although his instructions had been unspecific as to which one. Heller's Star Destroyer, the Marathon, had for hours been shadowing the Republic fleet's training exercises, and finally an opportunity had presented itself in the form of this lone gunship.

But he still didn't like it; Heller recognized the Pioneer as a Corellian Gunship and, probably, a DP20—a small vessel, but underestimated at one's own peril. It was well equipped and well rounded, and its formidable missile compliment could overwhelm an unsuspecting Star Destroyer's shields before it even knew what hit it. So what to do? They hadn't, apparently, detected the Marathon yet; Heller was tempted, instinctively, to accelerate into a long arc around the gunship, surprise it from behind, and open up with a broadside at close range before it could maneuver out of the way.

But then he remembered, of course, that they weren't at war with the Republic any more. The Pioneer wouldn't—or at least, shouldn't—be expecting a Star Destroyer to open fire on it while the ink was still wet on the peace accords. Why not use this assumption to his advantage, dishonorable though it might have been? "Not yet," Heller answered, "Bring us in closer, slowly, and ask them to switch to frequency seven; that should waste some time. Once we're in contact, identify ourselves and ask them to do likewise. Keep our shields down in the meantime, but be prepared to raise them. I wan't no hostile gestures at all, not even one targeting solution, understood?"

"Sir," the Lieutenant acknowledged, and relayed his orders. The Marathon moved in closer to the Pioneer at an oblique angle, clearly intending with this traditional maneuver (as the gunship would understand) to eventually pull up alongside of it.

Clive Winston Heller
Captain of the Marathon
The Galactic Empire

The Star Destroyer was still a few moments behind the Pioneer, but had completed its oblique turn and now flew, essentially, parallel to it. The maneuver, and deliberate grace with which is was performed, called to mind images of some ancient, seafaring predator silently approaching its foe, merely to peer at it, perhaps. Or to swallow it. "Tell them we're sorry, we didn't copy, and ask them to please repeat the last transmission," Heller ordered. By the time the gunship had done so, the Marathon would be in position; beside the Pioneer, to starboard, and slightly behind and slightly above it.

"Be polite," he added to the communications officer, "I want them at ease." That is, as much at ease as one realistically could be with a Star Destroyer looming in one's blind spot.

"Ready the tractor beam."

Clive Winston Heller
Captain of the Marathon
The Galactic Empire

"Diagnostics, prepare to raise shields on my mark. Tractor beam, prepare for your lock on my mark. Communications, prepare to scramble all channels with the exception of frequency seven, on my mark. Prepare the following transmission but do not send it until my mark," he cleared his throat, "Pioneer, you are trespassing on Imperial airspace. Your vessel will be seized, and boarded. Power down your shields and armaments, and we will cease firing. Repeat, and over."

He paused, and turned again to look out the viewport. This was the point of no return. Even with an Admiral the likes of Kieran Nadia aboard, the totality of this assault would, no doubt, overwhelm all but the finest and most seasoned of crews; the turbolasers would concentrate on the Pioneer's power generators, pummeling its shields mercilessly while the Marathon's point defense guns would weaken those shields even further. The communications scrambling was sloppy (the New Republic's fleet would notice that communications had been disrupted, giving Heller a very short window, perhaps 5 minutes, before another curious gunship or picket came to investigate). On Heller's mark, it would be pandemonium on Nadia's vessel.

"Gunnery? Diagnostics? Tractor beam? Communications?"

"Mark."

Clive Winston Heller
Captain of the Marathon
The Galactic Empire

Some of the missiles did, eventually, drift close enough to the Star Destroyer to detonate against its shields, but caused no significant damage. The starfighters posed a rather more serious threat, and were treated accordingly by the many of the Marathon's point defense guns (true, a number of them were busy with the Pioneer, but the vast majority were not). But the attempt, however vailant, perhaps did not have the effect that it desired; any protocol droid could tell you that the odds of surviving a direct assualt on an Imperial Star Destroyer were incredibly slim, and many of the fighters—particularly the slower and more potent B-wings—would not make it to the bridge (which, it should be reminded, is a very small and difficult target to find from a moving fighter, let alone to hit).

Two fighters would survive long enough to loose their torpedoes; one E-wing and one B-wing, the latter with its ion cannons spattering the superstructure as well. The E-wing was hit at the last moment, its torpedoes straying off target. The B-wing fired it's pair of torpedoes more or less on target. Heller's shoulders tensed as he watched the spectacle unfold, too close for comfort, but made a point not to let the men see him cower, even out of reflex, away from the viewport. He stood his ground first as the ion cannons sprayed the superstructure with a sound like pouring sand, and the lights on the bridge flickered, and failed. Next, the torpedoes exploded against the shields, turning everything a bright, white color but, ultimately, not breaking through.

"Auxiliary power," Heller found himself saying, in an oddly calm tone of voice. He noticed that, in the darkness, he had closed his eyes and now opened them to find the lights and systems restored, and the shields in front of the viewport evenly displacing once again. Too close, he thought to himself. He found the attack on the bridge to be in rather poor taste for Nadia, and it somewhat damaged the man in Heller's esteem. Destroying the bridge would not win the battle (as there was, of course, a secondary bridge)—it would merely kill the highest ranking officers present.

No matter.

By now, the Pioneer's shields would be straining significantly—if not overwhelmed, completely—from the continuous onslaught of the turbolasers and point defense guns. From that point, it would be only a matter of seconds before the gunship's casing was breached and the power generator knocked out, thus disabling its weapons, shields, and so on. Hopefully not its life support, Heller thought to himself, although apparently this Admiral Nadia would not wish the same for me.

"Prepare the boarding party," Heller said, and only then did the bridge crew let out a collective cheer at the fact that they were, after all, still alive. Alive, and winning.

Clive Winston Heller
Captain of the Marathon
The Galactic Empire

"4 degrees starboard pitch," Heller said immediately, and watched as the star field outside the viewport began to shift, ever so slightly, as the Marathon remained in position but tilted, clockwise, to use its considerably wide girth to block the Pioneer's line of fire to the superstructure and, in fact, to obscure it completely from view. Heller noted the gunship, from his vantage point, disappearing under the port "edge" of his ship, and walked away from the viewport and toward the sensors console instead, where he could continue to view the battle.

The missiles intended for the domes, as expected, would collide instead with the underside of the Marathon and, with only eight of them in total, would not do significant damage except, momentarily, to break through the formidable shields, sear the hull, and breach two compartments which, thankfully, were not essential. The shields quickly displaced again, although Heller remained unsatisfied as his eyes darted about the readings. "Shields concentrated to port?" he asked, noticing that he had forgotten to give the order.

"Yes, Captain."

"Good," he said, watching as the the more formidable barrage of missiles targeted the port side turbolasers (relatively few of which—only batteries seventeen through thirty—were actually firing). The shields held, for the most part, although not enough to prevent a number of the turbolasers from being destroyed, the explosions from the missiles in most cases detonating the weapons' highly flammable coolant lines. Seven batteries were put out of commission. Heller did the math quickly in his head and compensated for the loss; "Batteries thirteen through sixteen, and thirty-one through -three, resume fire coverage on the generator casing," he ordered, his demeanor calm and methodical even as he wiped a bead of perspiration from his forehead with his sleeve.

But the additional turbolasers, truly, weren't necessary. Surely the Pioneer's shields had been overwhelmed (though they had made a good show of it). The New Republic vessel was rocked, visibly, by a large explosion atop the engine block as the power generator exploded. "Right," Heller said immediately, "confirm that shields and weapons are down, and cease firing. Communications, send that message to them again, and inform them that we don't want any more loss of life."

Clive Winston Heller
Captain of the Marathon
The Galactic Empire

Another cheer and a modest round of applause went up from the bridge crew, as they congratulated each other and themselves for a skirmish won. "Well done all of you," Heller acknowledged them, "but you can celebrate when we're back on Bastion; we're not finished yet. Helm, come about eighty degrees. Navigations, chart us a course and jump when ready. Diagnostics, your damage report please."

"Nine compartments breached," an Ensign announced from his console, "Fires in compartments P2210A and P2213A, reportedly contained. Eleven men dead on the port turbolaser deck one, twelve men missing and believed dead. Shields are operating at 91%, and regenerating."

"Let's get a medical team to the turbolaser deck," Heller said, "and one to the hangar as well in case the Republic has any wounded aboard. The boarding party is to proceed when ready, all blasters set for stun. But don't shoot unless necessary, make sure Pioneer knows we don't want to kill them and their detention is temporary." One assumes, Heller thought grimly to himself, suddenly reminded that even he did not know the real purpose of this mission. "Lieutenant," he added, "I'm going to the turbolaser deck to survey the damage; you have the conn."

He strode off the bridge just as the star field outside it's viewport elongated, blurred, and the Marathon jumped to lightspeed.

In the Star Destroyer's hangar, the Pioneer had been clasped in place and a TIE Boarding Craft, although ready to begin its work, had not yet done so. Heller's message was being relayed to the New Republic's vessel first, hoping to get a reply. The stormtroopers gathered outside the ship were taking no chances; they'd set barricades in front of the Pioneer's airlock, and had a secondary line of E-Web repeaters arrayed around it. The hangar's own weaponry, too, scanned the gunship's exterior for any signs of an ambush.

The crew of the Pioneer could not number more than one hundred, and on a mere training exercise it was unlikely that it would have many marines aboard. Between the ship's weapons locker, thus, and Admiral Nadia's sidearm there would be, perhaps, no more than two dozen blasters aboard. But the boarding party was taking nothing for granted; there was more than double the crew of Pioneer in stormtroopers standing outside. Furthermore, with the skirmish over, a number of the crew had left their stations and crowded the viewports overlooking the hangar to watch.

Hopefully, there would be no more lives lost. But that was up to Admiral Nadia, as the transmission to the Pioneer made clear to him. For now, they waited for his reply.

Clive Winston Heller
Captain of the Marathon
The Galactic Empire

By the time Heller finishing surveying the damage and arrived in the hangar, the Pioneer had been secured, and its crew accounted for. His mind still full of images of his own burned, wounded crew, he took the time to meet with the Republic's officers, first the Captain—whose hand he shook, and with whom he made a bit of conversation—then Nadia, who he suspected had truly been in command; he had the look of a man who had given the order to surrender, and didn't like it. "Admiral," Heller greeted him, his tone as methodical as it had been on the bridge, "You don't quit even when it is prudent to do so. I've not decided if this is noble or foolish of you."

"Gentlemen," he addressed them all, "I am Clive Winston Heller, the Captain of this ship. Consider yourselves informed that your vessel has been seized for trespassing on Imperial space. You will be detained for the time being, but I do not doubt that your superiors will secure your release in due time. Either this," he added laconically, "or charges will be brought against you, and we will be at war again. However, for as long as you are on the Marathon each of you is welcome to a state room, although you'll understand that you'll be placed under guard. The rest of your men will remain in the secondary hangar; you can remain with them if you choose. Do you have any questions?"

Clive Winston Heller
Captain of the Marathon
The Galactic Empire