24. Call and Fall

                                    

                                          
(A/N: This is my attempt to recreate this battle. Please don't kill me.)
"Those who want to live must wage war, and those who do not want war don't deserve to live."


 Salen Kotch




||Location: Quelii sector, Vahaba system, Vahaba asteroid belt||
|| Timeline: 7 ABY ||





The bridge of the "Annihilator" hummed with tension as we drifted into position. Beyond the vast viewport, Zsinj's fleet formed an imposing wall of Imperial firepower—most notable among them, the behemoth Iron Fist. Its shadow seemed to swallow the stars, but I knew better than to let its size intimidate me. Today was a day of reckoning, a trap masterfully laid by Solo and Rogriss. I couldn't help but admire the elegance of the plan. Solo, of all people—an enemy for so long—had the nerve to pull off such a scheme.
A slight flicker on the tactical display caught my eye. Admiral Gaarn, now in command of the Annihilator, turned to me.
"Zsinj is maneuvering his ships into a defensive pattern, sir. The Iron Fist is taking point. He knows we're coming."
"Let him," I replied smoothly, eyes fixed on the massive holographic galaxy map in the center of the command deck. "He'll be too slow to adjust when we hit him from two sides."
Gaarn nodded, his jaw set, determined. "They won't hold out for long."
I glanced at him briefly, appreciating the calm in his voice. Gaarn had been with me long enough to know that we never underestimated our opponents, but it was clear the confidence of this operation had him ready for a decisive victory.
We weren't here to claim Zsinj's head today, just to tighten the noose. I tapped a button on the console in front of me, bringing up the visuals of Solo's fleet as they entered position from the far side of the asteroid field.
"All units ready," Gaarn confirmed.
"Begin the assault," I commanded.
The void erupted in a blinding flash of turbolasers. The Annihilator surged forward like a predator lunging at its prey, locking onto the Iron Fist with devastating precision. Our forward batteries opened fire, unleashing torrents of crimson energy across the gap between us. Zsinj's dreadnought answered in kind, its shields shimmering as it absorbed our first volley. I watched the incoming fire with detached curiosity—Iron Fist's heavy guns were nothing to dismiss.
"Shields holding," Gaarn reported, his tone steady as explosions reflected off the bridge windows.
The Annihilator shuddered as the return fire struck our shields. The crew was seasoned, though, each at their station, executing their duties with calculated efficiency. A distant part of me admired how well-trained they were.
My gaze shifted to the tactical screen, where Zsinj's escort ships were frantically attempting to reposition. The Red Gauntlet, an Imperial-class Star Destroyer, was already taking a pounding from our TIE squadrons, its shields flaring violently under the sustained barrage.