Prelude to Amritsar:

The wind did not exist in space, yet that sense of being blown back was omnipresent in the air. Yang Wen Li did not usually get displeased easily, in fact it was is inexplicably outgoing attitude that defined his character, but today he was understandably pissed, at the attitude of Commander Lassalle Lobos, who despite repeated calls, and requests chose to ignore the order to retreat. Yang was pissed at the high council, the political dogs who were responsible for this presumptuous invasion of the Galactic Empire. But even more, if possible, he was vexed at the irresponsible and downright greedy attitude of Commodore Falk, The man, who was by all means, the dumbest most, unskilled navy member he had ever had the displeasure of knowing.

Yang was well aware of the fact that the Alliance expeditionary force, comprised of the eight fleets, namely the 3rd, 5th, 7th, 8th, 9th, 10th, 12th, and 13th fleets, were going to be attacked. He was also sure that Reinhard von Lohengramm was going to lead the counterattack against the Alliance. The alliance fleet was already running on fumes as it stood, and expecting them to be able to repel the full might of the Imperial navy, that too within their home court was, in Yang's book something damn near impossible to achieve. What hammered the nail in the coffin was of course, the presence of Reinhard himself, possibly the greatest tactician being born.

Yang had time and again commended Reinhard on his brilliant tactics, and he did not disappoint this time either. Yang had known before the lives of those thirty million men had been put on the stake that Reinhard under no circumstance would let the Alliance simply enter his territory, and take what, rightfully belonged to the Galactic Empire. However, it surprised even Yang, the extent to which Reinhard went in order to completely wipe out the two hundred thousand alliance ships that were currently on their way to their downfall. Lohengramm had implemented a simple, yet devilishly devious tactic, which was not uncommon in history, to lure the Alliance in his well placed trap. This was a tactic known as Slash and Burn. The Imperials had already taken the foodstocks of all the so called "liberated" planets, leaving an obligatory nightmare on the hands of the Imperials. They were now, forced to provide supplies to the millions of people living on the occupied planets, from their own resources. This understandably depleted the supplies of the expeditionary force to near exhaustion.

Yang knew this, but out of his democratically patriotic nature, he was mentally obliged to follow the incompetent orders issued to him. With the supply convoy enroute, Yang prepared for the worst, knowing that Reinhard would strike now, to cripple what little hope the Alliance had of salvaging this lost "crusade"

Unbeknownst to Yang Wen Li, an unknown populous lay in the vicinity of the upcoming storm. This was none other than Ashoka Orionson, the Fleet commander of the Republic of Auralias, the nation that had chosen to remain neutral, until now. Of course, their official entry into the war wasn't as of yet, obviously 'official.' Despite countless efforts by the Free Planets Alliance to convince the President of Auralias, he had remained adamant, on remaining neutral, not wanting to put financial and moral strain on his nation.

Ashoka stood gazing at the stars, contemplating the sudden change of events and his thoughts about the matter, coinciding with his thoughts, his best friend, and subordinate entered the bridge, carrying his trademark grin, showing off his nearly perfect white teeth. Augustus Traverson had known Ashoka for as long as the both of them could remember, and as it happened with time, Augustus had the uncanny ability to read Ashoka's thoughts. He spoke as he entered, "you do know that overthinking is going to lead to me taking over as fleet commander don't you?" Ashoka gave his trademark reply, "You do know threatening your superior can lead to demotion?" Augustus chuckled mildly at the friendly banter.

"On a more serious note," Augustus continued, "my fleet is on standby, and so far what I've understood is that we do not engage, until and unless the alliance dudes are in trouble?" Ashoka's reply was uncharacteristically thoughtful, and contained a sense of self-doubt, which was something alien for both Augustus and himself, "hmm, that is what the official orders say, I wonder though, is there even a single competent commander there?" Ashoka continued, "one who can actually take on Reinhard, or me for that matter." Augustus let out another chuckle at this while speaking in between muffled laughter, "it's almost hilarious, you questioning the existence of a commander on par with you, you know damn well that you're the most brilliant tactician to be born, perhaps ever." Ashoka chided, "You said that before Reinhard came along as well, and now look at him, an abomination of the empire, and by some manner an extension of their colonialist ambitions." Before Augustus had a chance to shrug the comment of obvious self-doubt off, Ashoka chose to linger on, "putting all that aside, what I do know is that Reinhard is definitely brilliant, using slash and burn was something I did not anticipate him using, but it seems he is a lot more potent than even we originally considered him to be, and I would expect him to be even more brilliant during battle." Augustus chose to contradict Ashoka, believing he was just depressed, "dude, stop worrying, he can't be that brilliant, so please don't deviate from your usual attitude." Ashoka finally grinned, "you are the shittiest best friend someone could have." Asugustus laughed, "Yeah well, bastards end up together don't they?" The both of them shared a hearty laugh to this, while within their outer layers of ecstacy, both of them shared the same sense of worry and urgency, knowing it was only a matter of a few hours before the fighting began.

Reinhard von Lohengramm. A deviously complex man, with an inner power struggle, which was completely invisible to all, but of course Siegfried Kircheis. How unfortunate it was that even his best friend was, at the moment engaged in more pressing matters. Reinhard has sent Siegfried to annihilate the pitiful excuse for a supply convoy that the rebels had sent. Awaiting only the customary report of success, Reinhard sat on his commander's chair, dreamily thinking of how flawless his strategy to eliminate the dissidents was. There was however one unpluckable thorn within the beautiful rose garden, that was his plan. It was Yang Wen Li, the one commander who had proven to be Reinhard's equivalent in fleet commandeering. While it truly scared him, that his plan might come to an anticlimactic end, he could not deny the inevitable sense of excitement he felt, by being given another opportunity to face Yang Wen Li, and make amends for, what he considered a loss at the battle of Astate.

Oblivious to his surroundings, Reinhard almost missed the confirmation from Kircheis, being jolted awake by Paul von Oberstien calmly speaking, "Admiral Kircheis has successfully eliminated the supply convoy, and is on his way back, the fleet awaits your orders, your Excellency." Reinhard nonchalantly replied, "we proceed with the plan of course, eliminate the invaders and cleanse our territory from their filthy grasps." Oberstein relayed the, naturally motivating orders of Reinhard to all the fleets and fleet commanders, who replied with a resounding cheer, as they finished their final preparations.

Reinhard couldn't help let a small smile escape from his lips, as he muttered under his breath, "let's see what you're really capable of shall we, Yang Wen Li?"

Yang Wen Li had been expecting the attack. It came just as he had predicted, with the effective destruction of the supply convoy, he knew Reinhard would immediately pounce on the perfect opening and exploit it thoroughly. And so he did. With the Alliance fleets isolated from each other, it was a simple matter of finishing them off. Yang Wen Li however, begged to differ. He was not going to let the lives of the sailors who gave their lives go in vain, and so he didn't.

The combat began as soon as the first wave of long range missiles were inbound. Yang was however vary of this and expertly made manoeuvres dodging them. This man was percipient, but foolishly readable Yang thought. His opponent chose to go by the book, within which lied his fatal disadvantage. One which Yang would exploit to the fullest.

Yang's adjutant, Fredrica Greenhill watched him curiously. She found Yang…fascinating, to say the least. She knew the man was a tactical mastermind, one who was most definitely on par with the Imperial devil, Reinhard von Lohengramm. It was however his personality that intrigued Fredrica. During the battle of El-Facil, she had been the one to offer the man coffee, which he had gratefully taken, without reciprocating an expected sense of gratitude, choosing however to thank the young girl, at the time, in a much more snarky way, accentuating his otherworldly outgoing attitude. He took even this to a whole new level, while everyone within the planet was terrified, the supposed man in charge, seemed to not give a damn, and instead chose to enjoy. He isn't known as the hero of El-Facil for no reason though, more than proving his mettle, by successfully evacuating every single citizen, including herself, and, it was for this that she was in awe of the man.

Yang was dimly aware of Fredrica's figure staring at him, presumably expecting orders, for which he didn't disappoint. Giving a spiritually invoking speech, in the middle of a battle was something not many leaders had the guts of pulling of, but then again, Yang Wen li was not most leaders, he was in his own right, a god, atleast in the eyes of his men. "The imperials are attacking us, something I'm pretty sure all of you have been expecting for quite some time now. However, none of the other fleets will budge, and we are no exception, we will hold our ground, and drive the attackers off, for this I require from you, the most unparalleled performance you have given, fight like your life depends on it, which it may, and we will prevail," Yang's words breathed new life in his men, and Fredrica let out a smile, this man was something else.

She also however had more pressing matters, as Yang called her over, "Fredrica, we are roughly equivalent sized fleets, the advantage those men have, is that they have the initiative on their side, and the morale to back it up." Fredrica acknowledged this with a nod, and Yang continued with the tactical assessment, "our first and main objective is to disengage, and set a retreat course of Isherlohn fortress, to this however, we need the enemy to retreat first, which provides us a possibly catastrophic paradox." Fredrica, waited to add her inputs, letting Yang finish, "This means, we have no other choice, but to engage the enemy, however, instead of being on the defensive, which the enemy would most definitely expect, we will counter with our own offensive, confusing the enemy, and minimising the casualty rate." Fredrica chose this moment to interject, "with all due respect sir, how do you plan on achieving this?" Yang laughed with a dangerous undertone, "I'm happy you asked that question Lieutenant, we'll be hitting both the enemy flanks in swift movements, beginning with the right flank, as soon as the enemy rearranges their fleet to counter our attack, we take on their left flank," Yang's fleet commanders were staring at him, awaiting the full explanation, "after their fleet is sufficiently scattered, we wait for them to retreat, if they choose not to, then we attack them, and break them in the middle."

Yang's commanders stood wide mouthed, they understood the plan very well, and were confident the in success probability, however it was still not as easy as it seemed. Commodore Fischer raised the obvious concern, "sir, that would require absolute precision in our own fleet movements," Yang was quick to reply, "That's where you come in, don't you commodore?"

Fischer seemed to understand, and a silent consent passed between the command group. With the formalities taken care of, the 13th fleet engaged the enemy, with all guns blazing.

Reinhard was sufficiently convinced that the operation would go without any hitch, with of course the exception of Yang and his 13th fleet, but that was a relatively small matter compared to the bigger picture. In only a few hours he realized, his faith wasn't misplaced, all his admirals were delivering results, with the expected exception of Kempf. Kirschies was also on his way back, which filled Reinhard with unparalleled glee, knowing that he'd have his friend back to assist him in the final chapter of the ridiculous alliance invasion.

Then it dawned on him. It was the same cold feeling he felt when he suffered his first tactical defeat at Astarte, at the hands of Yang Wen Li. The same sense of dread that preceded Yang's intrusive entrance in his life was now back.

Reinhard wanted to curse his instincts, tell them to stop acting up, but he couldn't. And it was only a few minutes afterwards that he realized he had been foiled, once again.

Ashoka was almost glad to hear the alarm bells, alerting him to the imperial counter attack. He could finally put his unrelenting mind to useful good.

His mind was working overtime even has he entered the bridge, being given the customary salute by his subordinates. He took his place with his command group, along with the holographic presence of the fleet commanders of the three other fleets he had brought with him for this particular operation.

Rear Admiral Rory Whittenborough was quick in his greetings as he got straight to the point, beginning right when Ashoka was descending on his chair, among his command group, along with the other Fleet commanders. Beginning the briefing Rory pointed out, "sir, the eight individual fleets of the alliance have been attacked simultaneously in a highly coordinated attack, by numbers superior to each of the individual fleets, it would seem their demise would be likely, and swift," Ashoka begged to differ, "I would not underestimate the alliance Rear Admiral, they did manage to overtake Iserlohn, did they not? Clearly they must have some competent commanders out there, so I'll give the alliance a fair chance, plus, I wouldn't have made the effort to come here if I didn't think the Alliance was going to be decimated."

Augustus just laughed again, "give us the damn orders, and don't delay, you know very well sailors are losing their lives as we speak here,"

Ashoka nodded with understanding, "it's simple really, we have three Olympian fleets here each 35,000 in size. So we divide all three in 2 separate units each consisting of 17,500 ships," Ashoka waited for his admirals to raise an interjection, no one did, "continuing, the 6 groups will warp to six different engagement locations, and issue a warning to the Imperial fleets, we advise them to retreat, and tell them we will engage if they don't. Furthermore I want you to make good on that word by destroying them if they chose not to retreat. Are my orders clear?"

They were as clear as orders came. Augustus headed back to his Hades fleet, and relayed the orders as he wondered about his best friend. The day he embedded his name as the tactical genius he is. Augustus was wrapped in deep layers of thought, when one of his men jarred him back to reality, telling him it was time for the operation.

Like Augustus, Ashoka was wrapped in deep thought, considering the implications of his actions, but even before that mentally preparing himself for the demise of the two fleets he would not be able to save himself. He prayed to the great god Zeus that the brave men found solace and rested in peace.

With that steely grit and desire, the Auralias fleet warped to their targets, hell-bent on making the first engagement in the country's history a successful one.