Core Worlds

Coruscant

Planetary orbit

Coruscant, arguably the most important planet in the galaxy, and inarguably the center of galactic power since time immemorial, was burning.

The planet's sky was illuminated by an ever-present conflagration, bathing the crumbling cityscape in almost dreamy orange glow. Its mighty skyscrapers, miles tall, shattered and rained on the broken surface, their hearts gutted by stray beams of light from above. What little of the terrain that could be seen below was pockmarked with smoldering craters, each a gaping wound in the dying city's shell. Those who were able fled as deep as they could, desperate to escape the devastation. The few inhabitants who remained in the upper levels did so unwillingly, trapped by flame or chance.

Many did neither, vaporized by plasma or crushed by molten Durasteel.

Above the bleeding planet, war still raged. After hours of indiscriminate brutality, the resurrections that were the source of all the bloodshed finally began slowing down. Now with enemies were no longer randomly materializing within their formations, each side had begun to form something that might, if you squinted real hard, generously be called battlelines.

And as these lines began taking shape, the eventual victors of struggle became more and more clear.


"Dead-lead to all ships, hyperspace exit in t-minus 30 seconds. Verify shields are double front and turbolasers hot."

"Understood dead-lead"

"Vehement copies"

"Battle Hymn, roger"

"Guns prepped number 1"

"Bloodborn, all hands at station."

"Consequence hears, time to enforce my namesake."

"Dreadful copies"

"Devastator, acknowledged"

"All ships ready, dead-lead," Tarlandia finished off.

"Good," Executor mused, "This is going to be fun."

In a flash, the streaks of hyperspace blurred into the black of space, broken only by the stars twinkling around them… and the burning planet before them.

Sensors sluggishly, as if shocked by the sheer amount of contacts it found, pinged the thousands strong fleet ducking it out in orbit. The fight immediately began to sputter out as each side detected the gargantuan behemoth that had just entered the system. Soon the battlelines fell silent, the only movements coming from the few imperial forces that had arrived before them. All of whom immediately ceded their command upon spotting the mighty Executor and hastily made to join her battleline.

It was nice to see they recognized her authority on sight, though she noted there were far fewer than she present than she had expected.

"We seemed to have arrived just in time," Tarlandia mused, analyzing her scanners, "The Republic shipgirls are on their last legs."

"And I see why!" Desolation snarled, "It's the Invisible Hand! I'm detecting her at point 2-4, she'd be the one commanding these separatists!"

Executor hummed in acknowledgment, though her focus was on her fellow imperials as they approached. She greeted them and promptly sent them their formation orders, making sure to note which ones saluted her as was proper and which ones simply muttered an affirmative before falling in. Slacking off never has been, and so long as she held command, never would be permitted in Death squadron. Still, counting the new additions caused a slight grin. In total she now had another thirty-nine assorted Imperial 1s and 2s, seven Tectors, and even an Allegiance battlecruiser. Oh, And the two hundred or so support craft she couldn't be bothered to count. A good haul if she ever saw one. They will serve the Empire -and her- well.

With all the new additions accounted for, she finally deigned to glance at the contact her subordinate was so worked up about.

'Huh, would you look at that, it is the Invisible Hand."

Still, she gave a light chuckle, "So it would seem. Worry not, she won't save them, for this battle is over."

Sweeping her hands forward, she broadcast her voice throughout the system.

"To all Imperial and Republic forces currently in the Imperial Center -previously known as the Coruscant system- by the authority of Lord Vader and the Emperor, formerly chancellor of the Republic, I, 001E Executor, hereby claim overall command of all loyal military assets in-system. Objective is as follows-"

She deployed her rigging, power pouring into thousands of weapons, eyes fierce and wielding a smile of all teeth.

"-remove this scum from our capital."

She let loose with all her guns; sending thousands of turbolasers, ion blasts, and concussion missiles streaking across the void. Almost a full hundred separatist vessels died near-instantly, their battered and exhausted forms no match for even a fraction of an SSD's firepower. The shattered vessels spilled blood and plasma, quickly painting the void blue and red. Their comrades' sudden obliteration caused the rest of CIS girls to panic, scrambling to get away from the deadly barrage. What little return fire they did send barely scratched the star dreadnaught's shields.

Unceasingly maintaining her barrage, Executor strode forward and placed herself directly into the heart of the engagement, rapidly adding a dozen more kills to her name. To her side, the rest of Imperial girls flanked her, their fire augmenting her own and picking off any separatist she missed. The Republic didn't sit idle either. Though unsure exactly who "Executor" was, that she had turned the tide was undeniable, and with renewed vigor they pressed their advantage. Soon cobalt beams joined the imperials' emerald, each spearing separatist ship after separatist ship.

Perhaps, had said separatists not been exhausted by hours of continuous combat, had they not spent so long disorganized prior to Invisible Hand's resurrection, had Executor's arrival not completely shattered what tenuous coordination they had managed to eke together, and had they not had to contend with the supporting Republic fleet as well; they might have stood a chance. A fleet of three and a half, almost four thousand warships? Even an Executor would be hard-pressed to overcome that amount of sheer firepower.

But as it was?

There was no way they could win this battle, and they knew it. A trio of Gozanti cruisers were the first to break, hyperspacing away in a flash of light. A Munificent was next, her broken form trailing plasma as she vanished from sensors. A Recrusant, now lacking an escort, soon followed. That in turn prompted several more Munificents to flee as well.

All across the battlespace smaller separatists girls broke off, fleeing in ones and two, straining the morale of those that stayed. Finally, the sight of Executor caving in the head of a particularly foolish Providence with an errant backhand convinced a Lucrehulk to join the retreat. The sight of the mighty vessel fleeing was the last straw for the remaining separatists, quickly beginning a mass rout. Within moments every CIS ship that was able fled the system, the girls of Providence-class being the last to do so, spitting fury at their enemies and the cowardice of their allies until the last possible moment.

But they too inevitably fled, and for the first time since the resurrections began, silence reigned in the Coruscant system. For several long moments Executor watched where the last ship-girls had vanished, a small grin the only hint to the immense satisfaction she felt at the sight. Devastator hovered nearby, sharing in the view of the battlefield and the thousands of shattered and bloodied forms within it, before turning to her.

"It seems no matter the era, rebels always run."

Executor gave a rueful chuckle, "Truly, a uniting factor if there ever was one."

Battle Hymn butted in, "Ma'am, as fun as it is to revel in the stupidity of our foes, we might want to address the Republic shipgirls, they're starting to get a bit nervous."

Arching an eyebrow, Executor turned to where the Republic girls were warily watching them from across the battlefield. Several of them perked up when her eyes met their own.

"Really?" she asked, turning back to Hymn, "They don't seem that-"

Her movement happened to angle her guns in the Republic girls' general direction, causing easily half the fleet to flinch away. A few even began to pour power into their hyperdrives.

"-Nevermind," she amended, "Your concerns are evidently well founded. Hmm, we need to calm them somehow. Battle Hymn, Desolation, Dreadful, and Devastator; you four are of ship classes they'll actually recognize, so you'll be the ones initiating contact. Tarlandia, Consequence, and-"

"Hold on my lady!" Bloodborn interjected, "I am an Imperial-class as well. Should I not also be among the content team?"

Executor regarded her for a moment.

"...Yes you are, and no, you won't be. You hardly have the temperament. Now, as I was saying-"

"But-"

"As I was saying, Tarlandia, Consequence, and Vehement; start gathering reports from the new imperial additions to our fleet. I want to know everything that has happened since we… since we…"

The girls eyed her with confusion.

"...Ma'am?"

Executor didn't respond, a look of concentration on her face. After a long moment, she finally spoke, her voice so soft the other ship-girls had to strain to make out the whisper.

"...I can hear you," she said, a far away look in her eyes.

The other star destroyers glanced between each other.

"Umm… what?"

Slowly, Executor gaze hardened.

"Sister," she finished.

Inexorably, she turned her head towards the planet, eyes fixated to one spot.


Coruscant

Lower levels

Lusankya prison

Deep under layers of now molten and smoldering cityscape, Ysanne Isard, director of Imperial Intelligence and the head of an empire she doubted would survive this day, stared at the massive holomap that dominated the command station of her private prison. The rest of the room was silent save for the occasional buzzing from the comms as various teams reported on the facility's security, and was empty save for the sole ensign acting as her aide. Said ensign manning was the primary scanners, and as she watched he tapped the console a few times, causing the map to focus on several areas before eventually zooming out to show an overhead view of the system. Finally, he leaned back and gave her a short nod.

"It's confirmed ma'am. All CIS forces have left the system."

"And the remaining aberrations? Do they look to be leaving soon?"

"Negative ma'am. I'm detecting transmissions, but little else. They're just… talking."

Isard regarded the holomap herself, contemplating the largely motionless icons.

The ensign looked to her hesitantly, "What ah... what should we do?"

She leaned back, fists clenched, "Nothing. We just have to wait until they leave before we can even contemplate relocating ourselves."

'Not like we have a choice' she growled to herself..

"Call all security teams," she continued, "Have them double-check the detention levels and exit facilities. No one gets in, no one gets out."

"Ma'am," the ensign spoke up as she turned to leave, "the citizens from the upper levels… many of the survivors will be making their way down."

Isard arched an eyebrow.

"So they will. Your point?"

"Well… they're inevitably going to stumble across us. What should our response be if they attempt to force their way in?"

"Did the security teams somehow lose their blasters?"

"Um… no?"

"Then I fail to see the problem," she replied sweetly, tone of someone addressing a particularly stupid service droid.

"I… of course. Apologies ma'am."

She eyed him a moment more before turning away.

"I'll be retiring to my quarters. Alert me immediately if any more developments arise."

"Of course Director."

Said director barely heard his acknowledgment, preoccupied with trying to think which path to her quarters would be the quickest. This day had been beyond stressful in ways that were just downright insane, and she had the migraine to match. All she wanted to do now was sit down with a cup of caf and the latest prisoner summary and put the last few hours far, far, out of her mind.

Tragically, just as she was contemplating hitching a ride on one of the maintenance transports to shorten her transit, the ship rumbled, a loud groan echoing through the vessel, before a low hum began to fill the air.

Silently fuming, she resisted the urge to punch the nearest object and instead took a deep breath to compose herself, before turning around and quickly making her way back to the command post. Reentering the room, she spotted the ensign still hunched over his terminal, fingers blurring across the console. Clearing her throat, she managed to catch his attention.

Glaring at him with ferocious eyes, she gritted out her question, "What. Exactly. Was. That?"

The ensign glanced at her, expression growing ever-more fearful as he frantically tapped away at his console.

"I… don't know ma'am. I'm seeing power being rerouted through the whole ship. I can't pin down a source!"

Isard growled in frustration before tapping her communicator, "Bridge, report!"

"Madam Director, the ship's engines have been activated!"

"Then turn them off!"

"The system's not responding!"

"What do you mean they're not responding?" she demanded, tone growing more strained by the moment, "What is engineering doing? On whose authority were they activated?"

"As far as we can tell no one's! We can't even contact-"

The report was interrupted as the ship lurched forward, the echoing groans increasing to a constant shriek of tearing metal.

Isard's voice turned into a snarl, "Get a security team to engineering immediately! Turn off the engines, now!"

"Team four's already in-route, they should be there in-,"

The officer was interrupted, a panicked shout sounding from elsewhere on the bridge, "Too late, brace!"

The crack of dozens of shattering support beams reverberated through the ship, and Isard's world became filled with screeching metal, the ever-increasing hum of a waking star dreadnaught, and most alarmingly, the sound of screams.


On the planet's surface, a section of molten cityscape burst like an egg. Lusankya emerged from the city's carcass, billions of tons and miles of liquefied durasteel sloughing off its massive frame as the executor-class pushed itself upwards. The vessel's appearance immediately made itself apparent on the sensors of every ship in the system, the mere sight unleashed panic throughout the orbiting ships. As the behemoth rose into the atmosphere, it let loose a piercing electronic scream that rang from the lower levels of Coruscant to furthest reaches Obo Comet Cluster, scrambling ship sensors and mortal minds alike.

Shocked and terrified, the fleets reacted. Engines flared and lasers charged, a thousand ships turned to fight and a thousand more turned to flee. But before they could do either, an apoplectic roar sounded out.

"If anyone fires on that ship, I will rip their fucking spine out!"

Executor's rage stunned the fleet, the shipgirls' fear of one star dreadnought battling with their fear of another.

Lusankya barreled onwards, completely heedless of the forces arrayed before her, her advance causing the closest ships flinching away as maddened and incoherent babble swept across their comms. Executor stood in her path, ice-blue eyes staring directly at the bridge of the 19-kilometer long ship rushing headlong towards her, its lamentations washing over her with ease. Beside her, the rest of Death Squadron shifted uncomfortably, Tarlandia turning towards her with a slightly pleading expression.

"My lady-"

Executor turned and sent her a furious glare, causing the battlecruiser to gulp, but nevertheless signal for silence among the rest of the squadron. Satisfied, the dreadnaught returned her gaze to the approaching Lusankya.

As the mad ship drew closer, the hysterical wails became even-more piercing, and the moans more painful. Executor got the sense that, had Lusankya been given a shipgirl form, her crazed eyes would have been staring directly into her own.

Ten thousand kilometers, and the squadron exchanged worried looks. Lusankya pressed onwards, yet Executor stayed put.

A thousand kilometers, the surrounding girls began inching away.

It pressed onwards, she stayed put.

A hundred kilometers, and the less-disciplined girls abandoned subtlety, engines flaring as they sought to get out of the way.

It pressed onwards, she stayed put.

Ten kilometers, her eyes narrowed.

It pressed onwards, she stayed put.

Five kilometers, the screams were everywhere now.

Four kilometers.

Three kilometers

Two kilometers.

One kilometer.

And...

It stopped.

Lusankya had halted, the ship's bow barely a few hundred meters ahead of her. For a moment there was silence, before a jagged voice, weak and broken, yet cold and hard all the same, slammed into her mind, screaming at her to listen.

"̍̑ͥ͂ͭ͟͝͏̸̡̬͉͚̪̙W̴̱̯̬̙͙̓̈̆̌̾̀͜͢͞ě͒̑̍̊҉̴̢҉҉̱̰̯͓̪ ̡̩̻̟͙͎ͧ̌̇ͥ̀́́̚̕a̡̹̙͖̠͎̅̇͌̎̉͜͠͞͡r̃͑ͭ̈͒͜͞͝͏̖̲͎͎̙͜ê̶̝̻͉̞̲̓̓ͩ͋͘͜͞͝ ̷̸̶̛̮̳͍̖̯͌̊̔͛ͨ͞n̋̓̓̔͆҉̷̷̮̱͕͉̀͞ͅo̸͚͈͖̯̦̔ͤͮ͛ͯ́͡͠͠ţ̛̳̣͔͎̬͆̽̎͋̏̀͘͜_̷̨̪̲͚̟͈̖̲̀͗́̓̀̐̃̍̉̏̿͝(̴̢̨̛̤͇̘͎̝͉͙̭͓͆̽̓̓̅͛́̋̌͑̚̚͜)̵̧̧̞̯̹̼̳͈͉̺͈͇̘̹͕͎͋̓͂͐͠(̸̰̺̟̮̊*̷̨̛͉͍̝̯̖̼̙̰̙̫̔͌̾̽͝ͅ(̴͙̣͖̫͕͚͉̻̻̦̰̹̳͐̈́̍̍͌̇̌͊͐̇̓̈́̃̆̓͘͝ͅͅ&̷̪͙͙̘͉̱̃͝Į̸͍̹̘̯̽͐͊͜ͅ*̴̨̥̬̘̟̰̭̞̣̠̰̖̭̲̏̃̒͆͛̽̒̄̈́͆)̵͉͌̃̋^̷̖̯̩̯̗̪̦͖̼̼͎̗͉̓̊̽̅̄̇͊͠$̸̗̣͓̬͈̺̊͗̅̀͌͑̈́̑̏ͅͅI͛͋͏̹͈͜ ̧ͧ̍͏̺͓a̧̢̩̻ͥ̀m̵̯̪̒ͫ̀ ̇̐͠҉̖ͅn̖̗ͥ̐́͜1̸̛̪̬͌ͯt̶̶̷̵̢̛̻̬̱̣̺̤̙̭̦̅́̊̂͟͡͏̢́͏́͡͏̹͈̗̞͎͈̞̳͜͞*ͦ̈͑͘҉̧̲̼̠͔̥̲̮́̕͜͟͜͝)̨̉͊̌̑͠҉̷̼͕͎̻̝̠́̀́͢͢Ơ̸̵̶̸̱̜̣̖̺̊̑͗ͫ̓̕̕͝͡*̷̨̟̮̬̜͗̍͑̊͒̇̕͜͜͞͞͡͝^̴̷̴̵̨̢̨̢̛̛̛͍̮̻̎̒ͦͩ͂̊ͨ̈ͪ̐̈͛̒̆̚̕͘͟͠҉҉̨̩̥-ͯ̄̉͒̀̊̂ͦ͊͏̵͡҉͝͏̵͉͜͝can not control. Find me!̵̴̛̫̤͇̻͖̺̙ͥ̌̈͐͌͋̌͜͡͡͡!̵̨̛̆̀͊ͦͣͯ̌̆͏̢̧̨̙̺̭̻̤̗̬̬͘#̴͑ͮ̆͊ͩ͗ͦ͌̓͟͡͡͏̴̡͎̬̱̭̼͖̦̠͘͡ͅ^̷̶͒̽̑ͪ̍ͭ̈́ͣ͂̍́͢͏̷̶̟̟͙͎̖̖̹̰̝͇́͘͠*̢̛ͩ̔̎ͩͬͥ̑̔̀̕̕̕͟͡͞͏͚̯̰͉̳̻̻̗̝)̶̧̛͋ͪ͛̎̎ͭ͋̆̀͝͝҉͈̟̘̘̪͖̫͠ͅ(̷̸̶̢̛̱͍̙̼̹͎̳ͣ͐̈́͆ͭ͛̒͢͝#̨̢̭̣̖̝͚̊̿̄͑ͭ̀͝͝!̔̚̚͏̴͏̳̹ͅwhen you d̖̥̬̭͓͖̘̉̄ͨ̅̍ͣ̄iͤ̅́̇ě̔."

With that the insane ship shifted, its bow pointing elsewhere, and in a flash of light vanished from the system.

Executor stared in the direction her sister had hyperspaced away to for a long moment, her expression blank.

Eventually, Tarlandia reached a slow hand out towards her.

"My lady?"

Executor's gaze wavered as she answered, her voice hollow.

"Where did she go?"

The other girl looked to her with sorrow.

"Her trajectory leads somewhere into the deep core," her subordinate replied hesitantly, "Do you want to… do we follow her?"

Executor's gaze finally broke, shifting towards the battlecruiser.

"No. She… she is not our concern," she responded, swiftly recovering, "Gather the fleet."

"We're not staying?" Battle Hymn asked.

"If the imperial government was here…" she glanced at the burning husk that was Coruscant, "...it is no longer."

The squadron eyed each other, but could see no reason to object.

"Of course ma'am," Devastator replied, "What's our course?"

Executor grunted, eyeing the still panicked fleet of Republic and Imperial shipgirls surrounding them.

"Kuat. Our forces just increased a hundredfold. We need to secure new supply lines."

With the exception of Tarlandia, who still looked somewhat doubtful, the rest of Death Squadron straightened at her confident tone, reassured. Though unconvinced, the battlecruiser evidently decided not to pursue the issue, instead inquiring about another issue.

"There are a lot of girls out here that seem rather terrified ma'am. The imperials recognize you and thus your authority, but the vast majority of the Republic girls have no such memories to draw on."

Executor's eye twitched, "Irrelevant. The Empire is the Republic, and they all heard my transmission announcing such."

Devastator spoke up, "They will need supplies just as much as we will... there are only a handful of systems in the galaxy capable of fulfilling those needs, and of them only an even smaller handful are not currently warzones. Their optimal course of action would be to join a sufficiently large and powerful fleet and secure one such system."

She shrugged.

"If they wish to leave, let them. They will either run out of supplies and be cast adrift, or they will come running back to us."

"Well spoken," Executor replied, before turning and inclining her head towards Tarlandia, "If you wish to speak with them further, you may do so once we reach Kuat. But for now, send the order, and let us leave this place."

Tarlandia still didn't seem happy, but nodded.

"By your orders, my lady."

As Tarlandia began transmitting marching orders to the rest of the ships in-system, Executor spared one last glance towards where Lusankya vanished.

"Until we meet again, sister," she murmured, her voice barely audible.

'Until we meet again.'