Chapter 38 - Malevolence

High Orbit of Vardoss

Providence-Class Dreadnought Scarlet Night

Captain Phasma was dimly aware of the world around her: the movement of bridge personnel, the bellowing of orders, and even the tight apprehension of the last stages of military preparation. Yet, it was all just noise to her, or really a lack of it. An idle thing that slid into the background of her mind, as if the world had been muted so that she could hear herself think.

In truth, she wasn't really thinking about one thing in particular. It was a clutter of memories. Some provided a rare happiness that almost brought a smile to her lips, but most stung of regret, that most bitter fruit.

She looked up then, either to stare out the bridge's viewport into the void of space ahead or perhaps at her forlorn face. She didn't honestly know.

"Something on your mind?" she heard Sydow say behind her.

She sighed as she closed her eyes, "That obvious, hmm?"

She felt him brush past her shoulder to stand next to her, his reflection staring at her. "You only make that face when you are thinkin', and often none-too-pleasant either."

She chuckled at that, "Just a couple of days and you've got me figured out?"

He smiled, "Because you're that simple, lass. You haven't a deceptive bone in your body."

"Perhaps you just haven't seen it yet."

"Nah. I've only ever known liars. It makes the honest stand out."

"Perhaps it does," she whispered.

"Armitage?"

"Yes… and no. I'm not so much thinking about what he did, but more of why. And even my own part to play in all of it. He… Armitage wasn't always like that."

"You mean he didn't blow up buildings every bloody Primeday? Hmm, I'm actually imagining a baby-version of him blowing up anthills and the like," Phasma's chuckle made him look at her curiously, "what? Am I close?"

"Possibly."

"I take it you had something to do with that?"

"Possibly. The little brat did get me into a great deal of trouble over the years, but I never really regretted any of it."

"But now you do?"

"I don't know. I think some part of me feels that way… no, it's stupid."

"What? You got more attention from the old man? You think that motivate the ginger to blow up a building?" She looked sideways at him and he just shrugged, "I get to insult me own kind, thank you very much."

"Well, it's not just that. You know what it's like to command, to hold the lives of so many in your fingers and if you slip just once? That was Ramius when I met him on Parnassos. He was a man wracked with worry. As if he had a million things to do, but only one at a time."

"I suppose anyone tryin' to build a nation would be."

"Yes. It made it hard for him to raise his son. It was even worse considering he was a bastard, and not many uppers respected that. No offense."

"None taken. And that's when you came in?"

She nodded, "He tried, Sydow. Believe me, he tried to be the best father he could. But I think it was the fact that Armitage was both a Hux and not that made him what he was. He tried to outgrow Ramius' shadow, and even mine to an extent. Yet, perhaps he questioned if he was even worthy of trying. So, he abandoned what we taught him in exchange for a way out."

"Or it could be he just likes blowing up buildings and there was nothing you could do."

"I could've done something, Sydow."

"Like what?"

She didn't have an answer. She just continued to stare at her reflection, and Sydow scoffed silently. "That's your problem right there. You're honest with everyone except one: you."

Her eyes shone cold at that, "What do you mean by that, pirate?"

"Simple. You think you can fix everyone by being mum. But yer bein' dishonest if you really think you can. I told you this with Cardinal and Eighty-Seven: you can't save everyone, because you don't control what they do."

"I…" she had to fight her damndest to keep her tears in check, but she was only partly successful as her voice cracked a bit, "I'm starting to wonder if I'm cursed."

"No such thing, love."

"Is it? Look at my record, Sydow. You think it's all coincidence?"

"I stand by what I said. They all made their choices, based on what they wanted and how far they were willin' to go to get it; regardless of what you would've done for them."

She didn't say anything. She just stared at the deck plating for a long stretching moment before she finally she shook her head. "You must think me a fool, don't you?"

"No," he smiled as he placed a hand on her armored shoulder, "yer many things, love, but a fool is not one. Granted what we're about to try is a bit foolhardy and you're in for the ride, so mebbe that will change."

She smiled facetiously at him, "You never did say how you planned to overcome a New Republic Squadron, commanded by a war hero I should add; a Jedi Fortress World housing the second largest bastion of their paramilitaries; and ultimately acquire the last piece of the puzzle."

"Oh that's easy, Phasma. When confronted by a lock, you have three choices. You can find a key, attempt to jimmy it, or," he extended a finger to a section of the space ahead, "take a hammer to it."

A few moments later, the emphasis to his point arrived in system, utterly consuming Phasma's gaze and attention.

"That is one big hammer. How and where did you find it, and why does it exist?"

Sydown grinned wolfishly at her, "You didn't really think the Seps just built two, did you? As for where and how? Well, take a good look at me fleet. Do you really think I couldn't something that big or inconspicuous?"

"Heh, I suppose not. You know they're going to be ready for this, considering their encounters with similar ships during the Black Fleet Crisis?"

"Oh, I'm counting on it."

"I find this rather surprising."

Finn watched as Rey cocked her head at him amusingly, her very subtle movements taking the pre-steps to a full combat stance. He especially noted the way she held her staff behind her back, hiding any telegraphy she might hint to him.

"And why is that my apprentice?" she asked with an inviting smile, Finn stiffening somewhat at the title, "You think we Jedi are a bunch of pacifists who sit around and meditate on our feelings?"

"I didn't say that," Finn replied, carefully treading the stone courtyard as he moved in what Phasma had called the pole distance. In his mind, he viewed the ground he and Rey shared in the form of rings, each one representing the reach of a different style of weapon and by extension combat.

From where he stood, he stood in the middle ring. This was the distance of about several yards, and from the way Rey was moving both with and away from him, she recognized this fact too. She had a polearm, he had a sword, and that would necessitate him getting closer.

"But you were thinking it," Rey replied, switching her pole from behind her to the side as she paced in the unseen circle they were walking, "and I've heard the stereotype before."

Finn followed her in a clockwise fashion, his saber held loose but not too loose. "I suppose it's part of it, I admit. I just didn't imagine my first day of training with you would be by dueling."

She shrugged her shoulders, Finn tensing just slightly in case she decided to move on him. "It's how I was trained. Before I learned how to levitate stone or anything like that, my master taught me how to fight. He believed it took discipline to advance the mind, and combat was the purest form of that discipline."

Finn allowed himself a half-smile, "I can understand that."

"I figured you would," and before he could process it, her staff sprouted amber fire and was held in a ready position. It had been a small movement, but an almost indistinguishable one. Finn had seen her in combat before and understood how fast she could be, but had never really encountered it first hand.

Finn's immediate counter had been to drop into his own stance and ignite the saber, the weapon held in both hands at the hip ready to lunge forward with the sapphire blade. Of course, Rey didn't take the bait and smiled at him. She switched stances, the staff now held above her head at shoulder level. Finn returned the gesture by bringing his own weapon up to shoulder height, his hand resting against his cheek.

"Hence why I felt we should start with something you're already familiar with. Though I must admit I find it strange you know your way around a longsword. Phasma?"

"Partly, but my own primary instructor had been a Mandalorian named Svarr."

She recognized the name. "Svarr? So the First Order did take in the Deathwatch Remnants."

Finn nodded. "He and Phasma taught us to use whatever came to hand. My preference had been with a mace and a shield."

Another stance switch occurred, before Rey lunged forward with a feint. Finn recognized the move and played into it. As he suspected, when he moved to riposte the thrust, he found himself swinging at air with the staff moving blindingly for his shoulder. It took all his effort to swing the blade to his right to bat away the strike and then follow with a counter thrust.

Naturally, Rey was well away by the time he made that move, and Finn suspected that had been just a probe, a test.

"Impressive," Rey smiled again, this time genuinely, "I think you just answered my question."

A millisecond after the last syllable, she thrust her blade at him again, this time one-handed for the reach. Finn had been ready this time, though it had been close. He deflected the strike with an upward guard just before it made contact with his face and batted it to the side, moving with a counter thrust in one smooth movement.

With an unnatural speed, she sidestepped him by only the necessary inches and Finn could feel the very air move with her as his blade went right past her face. He attempted to rectify this by turning his thrust into a wide swing, finding her once again dropping the necessary inches as his saber parted a single strand of hair.

A heartbeat later, he felt a sudden burning sensation in his calves and was conscious of falling as his back quickly got the same treatment. The pain was intense, like he'd been prodded by a hot poker, but he understood the real thing was worse. Their weapons were on a training setting, after all.

As he hit the ground, he forced the movement into a roll. He tucked his weapon under his arm, and spun when he came up to his knees; his saber raised for a coming coup de grace. He had been seconds too late however, as he found the amber blade right underneath his chin.

Finn let out a breath, suddenly conscious of how fast his heart was beating or how ragged his breathing had become. That engagement had lasted only seconds, and yet he felt tired from it.

"Out of breath already?" she grinned down at him.

"Do you ever get tired of smiling, Jedi?"

She deactivated her saber and brought the weapon up to her shoulder, "If I can smile, it means I'm alive. My dad taught me that, and his master him."

"I suppose so," Finn panted as he got to his feet, "what was your question?"

"Oh, why you know your way with a longsword, even though you honestly shouldn't."

"I told you-"

"That's not the full truth though. You may not believe me, but you were actually moving pretty fast."

That caught Finn flat footed, "I was? Surely nothing compared to you."

"Well, I'm a Jedi with several years on my belt, so that doesn't count. But yeah, your reflexes are impressive. The fact you were able to contend with me at all, and cut this off?" she held up the single strand of hair Finn had managed to part, "As I said, impressive."

"Well, we were taught to face any and all opponents," Finn explained, "perhaps even the Jedi included."

"Just the Jedi?" she asked, her face adding more to the question.

"I suppose that would extend to other Force Users. Maybe even our own."

"Has it ever happened before?" Rey asked curiously.

"I… don't know. But if I had to guess considering how often our interests clash, it wouldn't surprise me."

"Interesting. You both answer to the same person, but not only do you not command one another, you're also kept in competition."

"I wouldn't say that. We have interests, yes, but they both align in the end."

"Do they?"

Finn took a moment to process his answer, studying her face as he did. She was surprisingly hard to read. "You're speaking of Armitage, aren't you?"

She dropped into a stance and Finn followed suit. "Partly. Would you say your relationship with the Knights extends to your intelligence community?"

"I would say so, yes."

Finn took the initiative this time, engaging in a flurry of slashes and thrusts all moving into one another. To his surprise, Rey stood her ground and used her weapon like a quarterstaff, his own saber strikes bouncing off the shaft as she danced around his defense. She swung the back-end of her staff and scored him in the ribs.

The pain was marginal, and Finn replied with a stab that turned into an uppercut. The blade whipped past Rey's chin as she swung her staff first to trap Finn's weapon arm, put the blade to the floor, and then using the staff as a balancing point to launch a flying knee into Finn's shoulder.

Finn used the momentum to drop into a roll before coming up and swinging at her legs. It was honestly starting to become irritating to see his blade just miss their intended target. He knew Rey wasn't mocking him, but it still felt like it. A part of him wanted to close the distance, but he knew that would just be an exercise in futility.

So, he instead withdrew to a ready position and waited.

"Good, very good. I see I don't have to teach you anything when it comes to patience."

"Maybe you do. Mine is starting to wear thin. Why the questions?"

"A simple observation, really. You mentioned that Armitage and his father are not on good terms?"

"From what I've heard, no. But that honestly doesn't surprise me. Much of Section 5, especially Internal Affairs, were drawn from the old ISB. Needless to say, they brought their old rivalries with them."

"So, what holds them together in the end? It can't just be one man. After All, you emphasized that the First Order learned from the mistakes of the Empire."

"I'm not sure we did," Finn replied solemnly, "the Old Empire followed a Sith into the grave, just as their predecessors did with the Sith Empire. If what you say is true and the High Marshal is just another Sith, then all we did was repeat history."

"Maybe not entirely," Rey countered, "as you said, the Knights of Ren don't rule anyone."

"No, but they are still an extension of Demask's will. I honestly doubt if the First Order would survive as it does now if he were to die. He is the symbol of which all follow."

"You keep mentioning symbols," she pointed her staff at his lightsaber, "you even called that a symbol. Why is the concept so important to you?"

"Do you not have your own symbols to follow? To believe in?"

"I suppose I do, but I don't think I put as much stock into it as you do."

"Rey, the thing you must understand about the First Order is that purpose means everything to us. A symbol has purpose to it; inspires others to follow that purpose. For without it, without that driving force, we wander into dark places. The Empire lost purpose beyond its own survival, and look what happened."

"Maybe the Emperor was a symbol of authoritarianism. As you said, people followed him to the grave."

"And yet others followed Luke Skywalker, not just the Jedi or the Rangers. Tell me, was Luke not the face of the New Republic to many?"

"Heh, I suppose you could say that. I've even met a few who view the guy as a god."

"So you have two examples then. Regardless, that is the power of symbolism. It can hold even the most untenable of things together. It can inspire masses to a common cause. That is because symbols are everlasting."

Suddenly he lunged forward in a low moving sweeping arc, hoping to catch the Jedi off guard. Instead, he found her already moving, avoiding each strike with a deadly precision before she swung the butt of her staff to club him in the back of the head.

This, to Rey's visible surprise, was met by Finn's raised elbow. Though the blow sent an avalanche of pain into his shoulder, it provided Finn the opportunity to wrap his arms around her staff, trap it and then pull her in. He deactivated his saber to give him better maneuverability, positioning it so that he could reactivate the weapon into Rey's shoulder.

Unsurprising to him, this didn't work. It had become evident that Rey was as strong if not stronger than him, and his grip was not enough to stop her from batting away his weapon hand and land a knee into his stomach. The wind was knocked out of him, but Finn refused to go down this time.

With a panther's roar, he dropped low and caught Rey in a tackle. He knew if he could take her to the ground, he could use his superior mass and weight to his advantage. However, even in the seconds it took to implement this, he could already feel her slip her knees between them. When they landed, all she had to do was roll and he was flying across the yard until he finally skidded to a halt.

"Damnit," Finn cursed as he pushed himself to his feet. To his growing annoyance, Rey was already standing and for the most part unscathed. A growing rage bubbled deep within him that he felt the urge to lash out with, but with he coldly reprimand himself.

"Anger is weakness when uncontrolled," Phasma's words rang in his ears, "it is fire, and it will destroy you as easily as it will your enemy. Be it's master, not the other way around."

"She sounds like my dad," Rey said quietly, drawing his eyes to her.

"I really need to stop thinking aloud," he grumbled as he got back to his feet, "and I thought Jedi weren't supposed to use anger."

"My dad certainly didn't think so, or great many of my teachers. Anger, fear? Those are emotions common to everyone. The mistake the Jedi of Old made was to try and banish them. Yes, uncontrolled they are like fire. But without it, there is nothing to keep back the darkness. It is a part of us, and it's something we must live in harmony with."

"I thought it was disrespectful to speak ill of the dead," Finn recited with a half smile.

"Not when offering criticism," she chuckled back, "which you do with the Empire, and even the First Order. And yet you hold onto their values."

"It is what I am, just as you are a Jedi. Without these values, as you call them, we are nothing. We are without purpose, for that is what they give us."

"Then tell me this, what is the purpose of the First Order? What is it that they want more than anything else?"

"To see the Empire reborn," Finn replied with a measure of uncertainty, "or so they like to say."

"Finn," she put aside her saber, walking up to him to look him in the eyes, "what the First Order wants is revenge, and I've seen what that does to people… people I cared about. If what you say about symbols and purpose and all that is true, then what the First Order inspires is wrong."

"To your perception, perhaps."

"No, not just mine. Yours too. You know it, and I think you have for a long time now. That is why the First Order is going to fail: they are fundamentally flawed."

"And the Jedi? You have fallen many times before as well."

"Only to rise again better, stronger. Our purpose is to help people, to inspire them to be better. I suppose that's why our symbol, and the symbol of the Rebellion and the New Republic, was a phoenix. We always rise again."

"Even if the people don't wish to be inspired or helped?"

There was hurt in her eyes, but she accepted it regardless. "Even then. We cannot abandon our mission just because it hurts someone's feelings."

Finn nodded in understanding at that, "I think we have more in common then we realize. Perhaps Stormtroopers and Jedi aren't so different."

"Maybe not. Maybe all they need is the right person, the right symbol, to give them that purpose. But it must be the right one, Finn. So let me ask you this: why do you want to become a Jedi?"

"Because I was given a gift, like you. A gift I can use to save my brothers and sisters. To show them that we can find a different way, a better way. And I cannot do that as just a man, as just FN-2187 or even as Finn."

"Why?"

"As a man I can be corrupted, I can be killed. So I must become more than that. As I said, symbols are everlasting, and I can safely say that Luke Skywalker had to embrace his legend to become the man so many revere and follow."

She chuckled at the analogy. "He did, Force knows that he hated it."

That surprised Finn, and she continued with a sigh, "He never wanted to be worshiped like he is by some. All he did, his words not mine, was just do his job the best he could. But alas, he's the son of the Hero with no Fear, the man to defeat the Emperor and take revenge for his father."

"...why do I have the feeling you're saying that's not what happened on the Death Star?"

"You'd be surprised about how often truth and legend get mixed, Finn, or how fiction is more acceptable than truth."

That's when they both felt it. For Finn, it was like he was the battlefield again and his backhairs were standing. Danger was coming. He turned to look at Rey, and saw the same look on hers.

"They've found us."

Commodore Wedge Antilles watched from the tactical display of NRS Kenobi's bridge the dog fighting engagements of his fleets small, but no less impressive compliment of starfighters. Over the last several hours, they'd been engaged in a series of mock battles with their carried fleet of training drones mocked up in the appearance of enemy TIE-Strikers.

These were of Wedge's own design, though they had not been officially sanctioned by the bigwigs in Supply. Barely 4 feet in diameter, the drones were nothing more metallic spheres with engines strapped on. However, packed into their frame were powerful holographic projectors that allowed them to take the appearance of any starfighter that could be loaded into their database.

Additionally, their small size and shape made them incredibly fast and maneuverable, allowing them to replicate the flight patterns of their projected craft. The downside is that such information processing made the craft prone to breakdowns in their processing matrices. However, when they were working, it showed Wedge a very grim realization he'd come to a long time ago: the New Republic was not ready.

As if to prove his point, two squadrons of X-Wings covering the approach of K-Wing bombers engaged and were quickly getting cut to pieces by a swarm of the fighters. Granted the swarm had them outnumbered 3-to-1 and X-Wings did take a serviceable number of them down, they along with the K-Wings were still knocked out to a man.

He grumbled at the sight. Too many years were spent on perfecting ways to fight the previous wars and the Empire's TIE-fighters. This was best showcased by the New Republic pilots inability to properly counter the extreme maneuverability of the droid fighters. They were far too used to facing down enemies who couldn't pull such lethal maneuvers, and were having a far better time engaging the drones propped up as TIE-Defender Mk. I's.

Ironically, the starfighters better suited to dealing with these swarms were the K-Wings, who had traded out several of their blaster cannons for chainguns. The only side effect was that the simulated space debris from the destroyed craft slowly wore down their shields and even knocked some of them out.

In fact, the only squadron doing admirably in every engagement was Black Squadron, and that was no surprise. Not only had Poe Dameron already faced the latest in the enemies hardware and survived, but he was now joining the ranks of fighter pilots-turned Jedi.

"Took you long enough to figure that out, boy," Antilles chuckled softly to himself. He turned to his deck officer, "What's the kill-ratio?"

"On average, sir? About 6-to-1, roughly. Though that's dropping to the low 3's."

"We need to raise that. In the Clone Wars, pilots needed a 12-to-1 and they were dealing with Seppies fighters."

Wedge still had bad memories of facing off against the old Separatist Tri-Fighters. The only reason why more hadn't been made was because they'd almost bankrupted the CIS back in the day.

"Just like Thrawn's Defenders." The irony of that made him chuckle. "Alright, pull the plug and bring 'em back in. We'll debrief and-"

"Sir," his comm's officer interrupted, "Commander Dameron's on the line. He says it's urgent. He…" he paused, as if he didn't believe what he was hearing, "he's asking us to check our long range scanners. He says he's feeling something coming."

"Probably just jumpy after everything he's been through," his XO dismissed, but Wedge shook his head.

"Comm, perform a deep range scan of the hyperspace lane."

"Sir, none of our sensors have been tripped-"

"Do it, ensign."

"Commodore?" his XO asked.

"Luke got feelings like that all the time, and they were usually right," he answered grimly, "put us on amber alert. I don't want another Hoth on our hands."

"Sir!" his comm officer shouted, his face in a panic, "I've just picked up multiple signals travelling on our lane! They're too far out to make out, but the signals are big!"

"Battle stations!" Wedge bellowed as he keyed the fleet wide frequency, "This is Commodore Antilles to all ships. We have incoming bogies approaching our position. Set condition red, I repeat, set condition red! Rendezvous at," he pulled up the tactical display, "Grek-Forn-90, and assuming pattern delta!"

Already signals and warning lights were blaring all around as the fleet began to move into action. Squadrons of fighters likewise were assuming screening patterns around their motherships with the anti-fighter corvettes taking up middle positions next to the larger frigates.

Wedge started bellowing our orders. "Comm, get me the Temple. Helmsman, get the Kenobi in front. We're the biggest gun we've got and I want them focusing on us. Ensign, what's the ETA on the bogies?"

"4 minutes and change, sir. Our sensors should pick them out in another minute."

"Commodore, the Temple is online!"

"Put them through."

Just then, the holographic images of Han and Shrike appeared. "What are we looking at, Wedge?" Han asked.

"Bogies coming in. Shrike, anybody coming in I should know about?"

"If there were, I wouldn't keep you in suspense. Nah, this is someone lookin' to make the next hour interesting. Did Dameron warn you?"

"Yes, he did. Comm status?"

"Any sec-oh carabast. Sir, it's big! I'm counting at least 20 to 30 vessels!"

"What the hell? No way the Wannabes would send a fleet that big unless-"

"Sydow," Han finished for him, "must've taken him days to get this together."

"Wyatt, get me the specs on 'em!" Shrike called from behind the screen before someone handed him a dataslate, "Thanks. Alright, the intel we've got suggests we're up against Clone Wars era ships, mainly Seppies. Explains why they brought so many."

Wedge nodded with a grim confidence. "We can take 'em, but they're not going to make it easy."

"Just draw them close, Wedge," Shrike replied, "we can hit the schmucks with the Temple defenses along with the fleet."

"This is too easy, though," Han grumbled, "Sydow's not stupid. He wouldn't be coming unless he has a plan… or a big hammer."

"Sir, we're getting more details! One of the ships is massive. At least a low-tier Battlecruiser Class."

"Battlecruiser?" Shrike shook his head, "Can't be Seppies, they only made two."

"What about a Praetor?"

"Unlikely, Han. Navy Intel kept a close track on the one's still around. Besides, the Kuatians wouldn't be happy if some pirates had one. Ensign, ETA?"

"One minute thirty, sir! We're looking at 25 ships! I can't get read on the specifics, I'm getting some kind of interference!"

"Commodore, if it is a Seppie Battlecruiser, we should prepare all stations for a super ion cannon discharge," the XO warned.

"Agreed, start deploying compensator generator fields between us-"

"Sir, the fleet is sending us a transmission!"

Wedge's eyes went wide, "Scramble the frequency! Do not-!"

It was already too late. Suddenly, there was a loud screech in audio systems like white noise trying to punch through before it was replaced by loud, boisterous singing and heavy instruments twanging in the background:

Look out, here we come!
Looking for a fight!
Gonna smash you till you're chum!
Putting on such a fright!
Better run away before we rump!

Oh, shiver my timbers, shiver my soul!
Yo ho he ho!
There are men, whose hearts are as black as coal!
Yo ho he ho!

Here we go, we're the best!
Smash you up, nice and good!
Hurt you bad, we don't jest!
Run away, if you would!
Chop you up with the rest!

Oh, shiver my timbers, shiver my sides!
Yo ho he ho!
There are men whose hearts are as cold as ice!
Yo ho he ho!

Shut your trap, get to fighting!
No way out for you!
Cause you so good at dying!
Chop you up till you're chew!
We were made for winning!

Shiver my timbers, shiver my sales!
Deadmen tell no tales!

By the last note, twenty-five enemy ships suddenly cut across the void and emerged kilometers ahead. As predicted, it was a composition of Munificent, Providence and Recusant classes, with a number of Dreadnought-Heavy Cruisers supporting on the flanks.

"Comm, where's the big one?"

"Any sec-"

His words were cut short by an image that seized the attention of the battlefield; all blood coated three miles of it.

"Son of a mynock," Shrike cursed, "so they did make a third one."

"Ensign? What are the specs on it?" Wedge bellowed.

"I'm detecting a massive number of power fluctuations coming from an unusual number of ion power plants."

"Define unusual, Ensign."

"Sir, according to the specs on the Malevolence I and II, those plants are not supposed to be there."

"Sydow must've added them," Han replied, "Wedge, can those generator fields you have stand up to that?"

No sooner than that was asked, the enemy fleet took up battle positions to flank the behemoth warship. The Malevolence-III in turn presented its starboard side, bringing its massive ion cannon to bear. Massive coils of bluish energy coursed through its focusing lens. One by one, the emitters blasted energy into a single line, every second getting larger and larger.

"Ensign?" Wedge asked

"I don't know, sir. That cannon's charge is far more powerful than it should be. It's already past 100% and increasing. Time to fire estimated at thirty seconds!"

Wedge pulled up his tactical display. At the current trajectory, the ion shot was aimed at where the Temple was located, and his fleet and the generator field was between them.

"Sir?" his XO asked, "What are your orders?"

"Hold position. Let the field do its job."

"Wedge, pull your fleet out of the way-"

"With all due respect, Han, shut up and let me do my job."

"Wedge, I'm with the smuggler on this one. Your countermeasures weren't designed for this monster. If your fleet goes, then they can just glass us from orbit."

After several more seconds, the Malevolence's ion cannon reached its maximum charge, and with a thundering vibration that could be felt miles away, it fired.

"XO, order the fleet to move to Besh-Gamma-13. Get us out of the way, micro Jump if you have to."

"Aye sir."

"Cap'n, Tiege's reportin' most of power plants on the Malevolence are overloadin'! He's shuttin' down systems 'fore they fry!"

"That's perfectly fine, Mister Marco," Sydow replied with a satisfied smile, "the hammer did it's job. Now let's move in."

Ahead, the New Republic squadron began it's hasty retreat as the massive wave of ionic energy crashed into their deployed countermeasures. For a brief second, the generators attempted to absorb the energy, but they were quickly overloaded and exploded in dazzling microexplosions. The wave was still coming.

"Take up siege positions, and order Tiege to get the Malevolence outta here. It did its job. Gunner, time to impact?"

"Fifteen seconds, cap'n. Enemies still in the fire zone. Might not make it."

"Oh, they'll make it. Antilles' is no fool."

The tactical displays zoomed in on the path of destruction the wave was creating, coming closer and closer like a tsunami. Distance estimates popped up everywhere as the wave closed in on the squadrons former position. 50 kilometers read on the distance, and it was close enough that one of the Virgilla-Class Corvettes trailing the rear of the retreat was hit by the after effects.

Arcing purple light struck the vessel's aft section, and soon it was floating in space, dead in the water.

"Bad luck, Antilles. Never were good at Sabacc, either."

Seconds later, the same was visited on the planet as the wave crashed into it. Although he couldn't see the effects from their distance in space, he knew it had been enough. Sydow keyed his headset, "Phasma, Kylo? Phase 1 complete. You may start your landin'. Oh, and love? Give 'em hell for me."

He then turned to his XO, "Bonnie, bring the fleet about. We got a hellova fight on our hands."

A note from the Authors:

Hey everybody, this is JSailer and Cale here. We want to thank Terminator57 and SWEULover2007 for their awesome reviews on the story. Other than that, nothing much.