Ren and his Knights strode out from the shuttle, surrounded by the serried ranks of their troops. Dozens of transports had already been emptied of Stormtroopers, who were fighting somewhere in the city below. The scene around them was redolent of some old, apocalyptic painting. Hungering flames leapt up, consuming trees and belching great pillars of smoke into the sky.
The incandescence turned the gunships into hulking shadows and reflected from the Stormtroopers' armour in a wash of red and orange. The saber sigils on the Death Troopers' breastplates glimmered menacingly, and when the blades of the Knights swept from their sheaths, they shone like a wave of molten copper.
Ren wore the faceplate of his helmet open, breathing in the air of the tortured forest. His cloak billowed and snapped in the furnace-hot winds. For all the smoke, he relished it. By his will, this world burned.
The darkness in him rose in answer to the carnage. To carry the Ren within oneself was to cage a storm within your flesh, embodying and wielding truly elemental power.
Nothing on this world would stand against him.
"Sir!" One of his majors approached. "What are your orders?"
"Send a division against the airfield. I will take the rest into the enemy camp."
"But Supreme Leader, will that suffice for the landing site?"
Ren regarded him balefully. "It will be enough for my purpose."
The man knew enough not to press the issue. He turned and walked off, picking a division and sending them off towards the airfield.
Ren turned to one black-liveried sergeant and his squad, all armed with shields and vibro-pikes. "You know your duty." The Death Troopers beat their spears against their shields in unison – a single clang of metal on metal – and moved out in the wake of their white-armoured lessers.
Faultless loyalty and zeal. This was what would break the deserters today. Now he turned his eyes to the bright, cold glow that marked the resting place of the Vehement. His ostensible goal – and he knew that this approach would bring his other target to him.
"The rest of you," Ren called to the rest of the division. "With me!" His lightsaber ignited, followed a second later by the blades of the Knights and then the Death Troopers. An indulgence, to be sure – but as Snoke had been wont to say, what was supremacy worth if one did not remember to enjoy it?
And he wanted the deserters and rebels to know their deaths were inevitable.
Ren's troops formed up around him, and they set off at a march for the city.
/¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯\
There was a deep satisfaction in this, Pryde thought, watching Resistance craft and ships burn. The Subjugator's shields and armour scorned their weapons – a squadron of Y-Wings harried it, but they just didn't have the ordnance to do meaningful damage – while its cannons dealt out ruin to anything within range.
It was delicious. Endor, Jakku, Crait… so many slights were being paid back today.
There was just one nagging thing, one ship at the edge of the battle which wasn't as tightly in formation as it could be. "Admiral Griss, order Captain Hauma to pull closer in. The Severity needs to align itself properly." Otherwise there was be a hole in the trap. It was almost as if Hauma was trying to get a firing solution on part of the city itself. Which was quite unnecessary when the Supreme Leader was down there with the 66th. The rebels and the deserters were as good as dead already.
"The Judicial is taking heavy damage," Griss said. "They request permission to pull back."
"Denied," Pryde said coolly, regarding the tactical holograph. "Order the captain to evacuate what personnel he can – whilst keeping the ship able to fight – and monitor the Resistance ships targeting it." He watched the data as it came in, paying only a little attention to the tormented Judicial as the Resistance ships stripped its armour away and geysers of fire burst through its metal skin. One of the Mon Calimari ships, when he had initially taken for a carrier, was dealing the most damage. An artfully disguised bombardment cruiser, he surmised.
"That one," he said, touching a fingertip to the offending vessel's image so it flickered to red. "Prime the autocannons, two-gun salvo."
The Subjugator's three autocannons swung into place, and a whining hum built up. Inside two of the massive barrels, a blood-red glow would be kindling. Pryde turned to the viewports. He couldn't help the cold smile which crept across his face, the delicious moment of anticipation. "Fire," he breathed.
Two blasts of ruby light shot from the Subjugator and struck the Resistance vessel amidships, punching through its shields and igniting the munitions within. The already wounded ship was torn apart from the inside as explosions ran through its hull. Pryde watched hungrily, savouring the knowledge of the scum within, hundreds of rebels who would be immolated as their ship disintegrated, or pitched, silently screaming, into the void. They would hunt down the other Resistance fleets after their business over Omunak was complete. And they would do this to every last one of them. Glory, Pryde thought. Glory and vengeance.
Therefore it took genuine effort to tear himself away and pay attention to Griss again when the admiral approached him. "Allegiant General." Griss looked worried, absurdly so given their crushing advantage here.
"What is it?"
"We've received a transmission, relayed from Vorsk. One of the system's monitor vessels. It looks like the officer who sent it was killed partway through the recording, but what we've received…"
Pryde waited as Griss called up a transcript. As he read it his uneasy curiosity became cold, steely anger. "Hux. Get me a link to the Supreme Leader," he ordered.
/¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯\
Smoke and dust throttled the newborn day, darkening the sky. The city was lit mainly by fire and strobing lasers.
As Ren's forces made for the Vehement, divisions peeled off to assault the airfield and a second front erupted in the city. Returning from their sortie, Finn and his squads had to fight through Stormtroopers as they drew close.
By the time they were in sight of the Falcon, the airfield was ringed by the enemy and they bore down upon them with a chorus of yells, Finn clearing a path with his saber. A Riot Trooper made a beeline for him. Finn caught the shock-baton on his saber, pivoted and ran the Stormtrooper through. Dropping his enemy, he went for his blaster and put holes in the breastplates of three more attackers. Around him, the Scrappers and other Rebel fighters battled on, bolstered by Jaicyn's squads and other Vehement escapees who'd been cut off from their ship.
He fell back to the Falcon's landing ramp, where Poe stood.
"Get on, get on!" Poe called to the stragglers. Those able to hold blasters found cover, the rest boarded gunships. Black and Blue Squadrons wheeled above them, joining the Vehement's TIEs in a savage dogfight against Ren's squadrons.
The first few attacks on their position had been messy, by First Order standards. Individual squads had come at them, and their white-armoured corpses were now strewn across the area. But he could see the purpose in it, the same ruthlessness which he'd lived with for most of his life.
The dead Stormtroopers had been charged with spending their lives to keep Poe's squads tied up here and stop them pulling out or helping elsewhere in the city. Now, there were whole companies on the offensive, advancing in implacable ranks as their fire rippled against the Falcon's shields.
The vegetation around the landing site was ablaze, set alight by flamethrower-armed Stormtroopers. It served a dual purpose, worsening visibility for the defenders and adding to the hellish feel of the battle.
"This is abominable!" Finn and Poe shared a disbelieving look and wheeled to see C-3PO stood by the Falcon's landing ramp with a cluster of astromech droids, all formerly First Order.
"Threepio, this is no time for spectating!" Poe yelled. "Get those droids on the ship now! Honestly," he growled, rising from cover and taking out a Stormtrooper. "He picks now of all times to be a hero."
"You need to get aboard too," Finn grunted to Poe, firing again. On his other side, Chewbacca raised his bowcaster and sent two Stormtroopers flying, head over heels. Finn turned and grabbed Poe's shoulder. "Poe, move! We've got this." Poe glanced at him, nodded tersely, and vanished up the Falcon's ramp.
"Finn!" Rey's voice carried over the din. Finn turned to see her racing across the airfield towards him, staff awash with crackling energies and a gaggle of escapee troopers following in her wake. She pivoted, throwing out her free hand and driving a knot of Stormtroopers to the ground. The fighters behind Rey opened fire, felling the rest.
That exposed a squad of twenty troopers in black plate, their shields glimmering in the firelight and vibro-pikes held tightly in armoured fists. They immediately broke into a heavy charge, straight for Rey.
"Come on!" Finn roared, and moved to intercept them. With a cry, the Scrappers followed and in an instant they were among the enemy, weapons meeting with a clash of metal and the fizzing snarl of energy fields. More Stormtroopers had come up behind their elite brethren, and the fighting reached a fever-pitch.
Ki'rii cried out next to Finn – a Death Trooper had plunged his spear into her shoulder. She fell, and her assailant went to finish the job. Finn lunged, knocking the weapon aside. Then he slashed his opponent's leg. The Death Trooper went to his knees with a distorted roar of pain and fury, and with his own bellow of anger, Finn took the Death Trooper's head off.
That made no impression on the others. Their sheer implacability was both frightening and disgusting to Finn. He'd been raised to kill for the First Order, lived among others conditioned to do the same, but even compared to regular Stormtroopers, these soldiers seemed bleached of all feeling.
Rey caught another blade as it descended towards him, and Finn ducked under it to impale his attacker. "Get her up!" Rey was shouting.
Kuoma rushed in, scooping the wounded Ki'rii up and bearing her away. The Falcon's upper cannon boomed into life, pouring fire into the massed ranks of Stormtroopers. They fell into retreat, undoubtedly to regroup and attack again. The Death Troopers, however, had all fallen in the melee.
"What kept you?" Finn asked Rey, noting how her robes were blackened and tattered.
"The enemy." She signalled to some of the people she'd brought with her. Wounded defenders were taken aboard the Falcon and the gunships, making the most of the respite. "We need to be away."
"Give it just a few minutes more," Finn said. "Till the Vehement's airborne. Then we pull out." He patted Rey's shoulder, now realising worriedly that she only had her robes on. But he had bigger concerns, a nasty suspicion forming in his mind. "Where are the rest of them?"
But Rey wasn't listening. She was staring into the distance, where an opening between buildings gave them a view of the great thoroughfare. It thronged with the serried ranks of Stormtroopers. And among them, Finn saw black armour and glowing red blades – the Knights of Ren and their master, making for the Vehement.
Kylo Ren turned, seeming to sense their gaze. Even at this distance, even with his helmet on, Finn just knew he was smiling. Next to him, Rey had gone rigid, her breaths coming in pent-up hisses. The Scrappers eyed her apprehensively.
Finn reached out to her. "Rey-"
She looked at him, and he saw the desperate fear that he felt in his own heart, etched on her face.
The next thing he knew she'd bolted, feet hammering across the rubble.
"No," he gasped, making to follow before Chewbacca caught his arm, protesting even as the Scrappers took off behind her. All he could do was shout after her.