“Rancor Aurek Grek Trill, Scramble All to Angels Two-Seven-Zero. Contact Dauntless CIC on TAD621, backup 626”
So many days they stood up, only for no call to come through. This was not one of those days. The heavy units had grouped to counter the Sith fleet massing in Deepspace a short jump away, and the Thunderbolt task force had taken the ready forces and the best of the local volunteers to Kashyyyk. Preliminary reports were that they had torn the Sith a new one. Multiple Derriphans confirmed destroyed.
But they did not hold this entire planet, and over the Sith-held western continent Comm-scan had a gap. Pickets had picked up multiple inbounds.
But the Republic had a surprise in turn for the Sith. Adequately trained reserve pilots did not yet exist, but Outpost Hope had a full complement of fighter squadrons for the first time anyone here seemed to recall.
This meant that for once they could surge multiple squadrons in response.
The hangar filled with the crescendo of engines and thrusters. His cockpit sealed with a hiss as the lead responders burned clear of the main doors, his own Rancor squadron streaming out close behind.
The clouded blue of atmosphere thinned rapidly as the massed squadrons burnt clear into exoatmosphere. From below faint flashes and contrails indicated counter-fire from the beseiged Sith on-planet. He gritted his teeth and focused on his scopes. Fighters were lost, but his squadron escaped injury.
His scopes showed the tracks on the inbounds. This planet had seen invasion after invasion. But thanks to ground painfully clawed back inch by inch, they would gouge the bastards before they set foot on Viscara again.
The stratosphere glowed red ahead as fire started to be exchanged. A heavy toll would be taken on the attackers before any could set foot on this world.