Chapter 49 - Dark Defeat

The Unknown Regions

The Star Forge

The reactor room erupted into pure chaos. Gone was any real semblance of strategy or tactics as both sides engaged in a brutal brawl, up close and personal. Men shot each other point blank, others grappled and tore into each other with knives, fists and clubs. The air became awash with screams, roars and desperate battlecries. At the center of it, the Antarian Paladins tore through the lines to engage the charging Repears, their truncheons crackling with energy as they closed in.

Above them, Rey and Kylo Ren drew themselves into their final confrontation. Dancing on the catwalk, their blades painted the world in bloody and amber hues as they clashed in indiscernible blurs. The Lord of Ren struggled to maintain his tight defense as Rey danced across his vision, her blade prodding him from every possible direction.

He leapt back, attempting to disengage and attack her from a distance, but she kept after him. As she somersaulted over him, he felt a sudden sting in his shoulder and he reflectively ducked, swinging blindly as she landed. The blow struck her shaft and bounced off with an exchange of sparks, and he found himself skidding across the floor as her blade came within inches of his helmet.

In close, she kept up the pressure. Never once did she give him even a moment to breathe, and he knew why. When he had beaten her, it had been with his superior connection to the Force. Here, she did not afford him the chance and the disparity was becoming clear.

He had always admired and even envied her prowess with the lightsaber, and this was her finest work. His arms felt tight and heavy, his movements slow compared to hers. It was all he could do to defend himself, let alone counter. Every time he tried, she would just subvert him from a new direction; rolling, leaping or sidestepping to keep him off-balanced.

Step by step, she drove him back. Across the catwalk and through to the hallway connecting to the lobby. There he tried to hold her, leveraging the tightness of the walls to his advantage. Her response was to rip free every loose piece of deckplatting and hit him everywhere at once. He drew back his defenses, the projectiles bouncing away as he saw her charge like greased lightning with the intent to spear him like a boar.

She must've seen his eye widen as he saw something of a mad glint in hers. With only a moment to spare, he sidestepped and allowed the blade to pass as he grabbed the shaft. He pulled it in, reared back to deal her a crippling blow only to find his blade burning mere air.

'So that's what that feels like,' were his thoughts he had as he went flying through the opening door. He hadn't seen the move, but his jaw suddenly ached and he was bent over as he landed. Still, he turned it into a roll and leapt ahead to get himself some distance. She was hot on his tail, her eyes blazing with madness. No, not madness. Acceptance. Purpose. He had told her that if she wanted to stop him, she would have to kill him.

"So be it," he said, cubbing hands to the side and rending the walls into a pure maelstrom of durasteel and plastoid. To his amazement, she slipped past the onslaught like water flowing through stone. She'd always had a physical edge above many of her peers, being trained by one the greatest blademasters of their era, afterall.

But the ease of it glowed with a pure acceptance of the Force, becoming something far more dangerous.

'Something you cannot merely subdue,' a dark voice whispered in his ear, 'embrace your destiny, Kylo Ren. Embrace the Darkness, and end this threat once and for all.'

"Shut up," he growled as he met her charge with a desperate vigor. Ozone crackled and sparks flared as their blades clashed with ferocious intensity. Yet he knew in the end, she was just simply better. With a feint and twist, his saber slipped out of his hand and tumbled out of sight.

Before she could follow through, he grabbed the end of her weapon and reared back his arm. With a concerted will, he struck the shaft with a shattering explosion. Kylo shielded himself from the fragmentation, the metal shards sticking into his armor. When he raised his eyes, he found Rey crumbled on the ground, her body and face red with blood.

"Rey," he breathed, stepping towards her only to realize his mistake. Before he could call his blade to hand, she was upon him with a scream. His head rang like a brass bell as she slammed the broken shaft into his helmet, his chest burning with a sudden searing heat. Another blow, another roar of pain and his armor smoked.

'Unleash your power, Kylo Ren,' the voice spoke again, 'or embrace your own destruction.'

A deep, seething anger boiled up inside at this. He felt the coursing energy flowing through him, the electricity crackling at his fingertips. He opened his eyes and all he could see was her cooking under his wrath, her desperate screams begging him to stop.

"NO!" he roared and he lashed out, a sickening crack followed as he palmstruck Rey's face. She staggered back, blood pouring from her mouth. Then something struck Kylo in the cuirass and he exploded back, his chest feeling like Reek had rammed him. He smelled cordite in the air, soon followed by a crackling ozone and feet hitting the deck plating.

"TAKE HIM DOWN!" the reverberated growl of a Paladin echoed, and he looked up in time to see three of them a few pounds pull from ending his life. The flash of their weapons lit up the room, three projectiles blooming into existence. Panic did not take him, though; only a kind of pure focus. He raised his hand, called upon the lessons he'd learned from the Keeper of the Holocron, and a loud concuphany rang out like the sound barrier had broken.

All around him, everything suddenly froze into stillness. Rey, the Paladins, the projectiles zooming towards him. With a taxed will, he slowly rose to his feet and suddenly realized how very quiet the room had gotten. His eyes widened as he looked down. Below, the carnage of soldiers and droids were frozen like wax statues put on careful display in a history museum.

His amazement was cut short as he heard a curse and a vibrating pulse. Rey, being the strongest one in his temporal trap, was breaking free and he knew he had seconds left. Concentrating his will, Kylo pulled his saber to hand and with a final mental exertion, blasted the catwalk with a telekinetic blast. The metal structure exploded, taking the Paladins with it as they descended into the melee below.

Kylo leapt away to adjourned door, catching the explosive projectiles just mere inches before they hit him. Ahead, amidst the crumbling metal, came running Rey Katarn, and he knew what he had to do if he wanted to escape this battle alive. He waited until she was in the air, coming for him, before he let the bolts loose.

The worst part was the sudden, horrifying realization that dawned on her face as she tried in vain to evade. Desperately, she pressed her hand forward, the rounds detonating in midair, and she crumbled into the mass below in a billow of smoke. The morale of the New Republic forces broke, and reinforcements slowly drove them out.

Kylo Ren fell to his knee, clutching at his burnt and dented cuirass. Pain tore through him like dragon fire, blood pooling from his mouth as he tore his helmet free and hitting the deck.

"Reactor Room..." he panted into his mike, "secure."

"Acknowledged, Lord Kylo," Mechos answered, feeling a sense of relief at the narrow victory, and narrow it had truly been.

Curious, the Station remarked, all that power and he refused to use it.

"Yes," Mechos nodded, "that is a sentiment you yourself share, Station."

I do not understand.

Before he could elaborate, the outerwall to the control center suddenly exploded. The durasteel caved in a crumbled mass, crushing fireteams of Stormtroopers, Reaper Droids and the Forge's own security forces in the concussion and sending more into depths below, their screams drowned out by the renewing sounds of battle.

Through the resulting smoke emerged the tight formation of Aquillan Legionnaires, their lines of shield-carrying infantry driving into the remaining right flank. An enrush of autogun fire roared out, driving their opponents to ground as the front leading Legionnaires closed in with their vibro-swords and slugthrowers.

What madness is this? They are beaten and yet they continue this slaughter.

That made the Lord of Ren chuckle. "Madness, Station? It amuses me slightly that I, a stranger to your galaxy, am endowed with a greater understanding of those who share your home."

I see barbarity and slaughter, Mechos of the Talos. They remind me of the Builders.

"Perhaps a comparison can be drawn. Their forefathers, the Zakuul, forged an empire through blood and conquest. Even the Republic of Old and the forebearers of my title could not stop them. Ironically, it was the death of their 'Eternal' Emperor, Valkorian III, that began this galaxy's Dark Age."

And yet they returned, unlike the Builders. How?

"They bided well the teachings of his sons, Thexan and Arcann, and became the Segmentum you see in battle before you. It is amusing, in a way. I have seen Republics fall into Empires, but rarely Republics rising from those Imperial ashes."

You are fascinated by them. Why?

"Because for all their similarity, Station, they are not like those who built you," Mechos sighed, "I swore I would not lie to you, so I shall not. The difference lies in this: they know the merit of restraint and they have the honor to meet their foes in battle, not with slave levies."

My processors indicate great disgust in those words, Mechos of the Talos. Elaborate.

"It…" he sighed and bowed his head, "I was a mere child when I came here, but I remember those who sought my people's extermination. Aethemic madmen who created monstrosities and enslaved entire species as fodder or as vile experimentations. Even in the value of your Builders creation, such as yourself, I am forced to admit the comparison."

That they are like the builders?

He nodded, slumping against the terminal. "They would pursue their madness, their vices, until there was no life left in their wake. They," he pointed to the Aquilans, "know where the line must lie, for there is purpose in their brutality."

That is?

"Victory and honor, at any cost."

His words were cut short as something splattered against the shield, bathing the control center in rainbow hues and filling the air with an acidic taste. Above, swarms of flying Mandalorian Supercommandos roamed the battlefield like locusts, laying waste to targets with Disintegrator weapons. Beyond, teams of Regulators joined their New Republic allies and charged the line, almost as if they were competing with the Aquillans.

Another splatter struck the shield, the energy crackling under the onslaught. A pair of Troopers attempted to engage the Supercommandos, only to be atomized to ash as their bones illuminated in a colorful haze.

That is victory? That is honor? I see only barbarity

"There is honor in meeting one in battle, Station," a tight smile formed beneath his helm as he prepared himself, "and not relying on levies to do what must be done."

As the final volley struck and the shield collapsed, Mechos moved. With an outward burst of energy, he leapt from the deckplate and threw his arms forward. Two of the Supercommandos were ripped from the air, their chests meeting the Talos igniting blades and punctured through. Tossing them aside like rags, Mechos went after the rest like a Jumping Spider and cutting several apart in blining blurs.

The men on the ground took notice and opened fire, chasing Mechos towards the supporting pillars where he moved about with his mechanical arms. The remaining Supercommandos gave chase, firing their Disintegrators and rockets at him in dogged fashion.

"They are persistent, Station. That is admirable," he panted as he moved to higher ground before dropping upon a Supercommando and decapitating him, "I wish only that we had such 'barbaric' cultures to face the Anemic Ones."

You are prolonging this engagement, Mechos the Talos. I have seen and sensed your power. You could end this within moments.

"Yes, I am and I could."

He leapt back to the wall before springboarding himself at another Mandalorian. This one was prepared however, meeting his charge with a flame projector as he moved to the side. Mechos was merely blinded as he extended his hand and brushed past his attack, landing on a pillar as he turned to the report of rockets firing.

A volley closed in and he flicked his wrist, causing them first to disengage their fuel lines and then without resisting thrust, be flung right back at their sender. The Supercommando dove low, avoiding the first set of rockets before the rest caught up with him. He spun and fired his disintegrator, detonating the rocket too close and he was sent sprawling in smoke.

Why do you prolong this?

"My reasons are two-fold," he explained as he leapt from pillar to wall, "the first is that it has been years since I have enjoyed the taste of true battle against worthy opponents. The second is I want you to see their true character; their persistence."

Now the Aquillans were shooting at him, the large caliber slugs detonating against the durasteel and the fragments tearing into his armor and augments. He danced about to avoid their fire, but he curiously noticed a column of them chasing him with swords and shields drawn. The challenge was obvious, and he smiled satisfactorily.

"They will fight until they cannot stand, Station. Kill the ones here, more will merely come without fear. Here is a demonstration."

He flung himself downward at his pursuers, ignited all four of his augment-arm sabers as he made contact. Bravely, the Legionnaires locked ranks and charged, their formation buying them only moments longer as Mechos tore through them like a predatory arachnid. Limbs, heads and crumbled bodies sprawled and flew in his wake. Yet, they did not withdraw.

"AQUILLA ETERNA!" they roared as more took the challenge and met their deaths with pride. Their numbers were overwhelming now, even Mechos had to admit that.

Madness! The Station echoed.

"Bravery," Mechos replied, leaping from the melee back on the control panel. He winced as he landed, only now noticing the sparking lacerations in his exo-suit. He couldn't help but smile at the effort.

"What you have witnessed here is bravery worthy of bards. They, and their fellows out there in the void, will fight on until they are devoid of their last breaths. Only death will halt them."

You seek an escalation in my security protocols.

"It is the only way, Station. They will throw themselves upon you until there are none to draw upon. Only through you and the power you have restrained, can this battle be drawn to its swift finality."

You would me partake in the slaughter in the space surrounding us?

"To save others from pointless destruction, yes. So that they may one day save this galaxy from those who would see it burn."

Amidst the chaos, the Station considered its answer.

"All flights!" Poe called through his comm, "Rally on me! We'll make another run on that dreadnought!"

Poe gunned his battered, but still flying engine at the head of his squadron, dropping a long tearing run of ion and proton torpedoes across the surface of the Mandator-III. Emerald fire chased after him and his fellows, Poe desperately wrenching his joystick from side to side to pull off the necessary meanuevers to avoid being atomized.

Ahead, swarms of canary yellow Naboo fighters and about every kind of Mandalorian craft you could shake a stick at were doing the same. A terrific series of explosions ripped across the command deck, smoke billowing from the damage. However, the cost was growing grim as dozens of fighters were being blown out of the vacuum by point-defense systems, or the newly arriving flights of Defenders and Interceptors.

Soon, Poe and his wingmen soon had to avoid not only laser fire, but the growing debris field surrounding the dreadnought. He dove low, the burning remains of a Naboo bomber screaming past him.

We're getting the ozik kicked out of us, BB-8's binary words appeared on his display.

Poe shook his head, "No choice, buddy. If we don't take out that dreadnought, all this backup's just gonna mean more body bags!"

"Black Leader, this is Silver Leader," the Bomber Commander's voice rang in his ear, "we are rearmed and closing in your position. Requesting escort while we conduct our run on their engines, over."

"10-4, Silver Leader!" Poe replied as he switched to his flight comm, "Alright boys and girls, we got K-Wings coming in to spank these punks. Rally up, and we'll get 'em there."

Acknowledgements and signal lights responded, and he called BB-8, "Buddy, get me a line on that Lucrehulk's frequency."

He got it a few moments later. "Captain Tycho, this is Commander Dameron. My flights are about to hit the rear of the dreadnought. Recall your flights to screen our approach, and we'll put this thing out of commission."

"Acknowledged, Commander," the comm crackled back, "we'll reposition to point 0-7-5 to provide better fire support. Just watch out for the support group, the Mandos are still picking a fight with them."

"Roger, out."

As Poe took the lead and led the fighters down into attack position, he allowed himself a moment to stretch out with his feelings and feel the flow of the battle. Even now, things were held in a delicate bind. Even with the Naboo, Aquillan and Mandalorian reinforcements, the First Order still had their forces split down the middle. Across the way, he observed Admiral Etahn A'baht's column of Mon Cala cruisers and support ships in a desperate slugging match with a Resurgent and their support ships.

Ships crackled and burned under the withering exchange, and Poe knew that unless that Dreadnought was taken out of action, they would just be delaying the inevitable. Yet, there was something… strange. A feeling he couldn't quite understand, like a black void of impenetrable vail.

BB-8's harsh binary brought him back to focus, and he set his mind to the task ahead. He dove low, avoiding the enrush of emerald bolts lighting up the vacuum and soon coming into contact with the picket fighters screening the ships underbelly. The Naboo were already engaged in a vicious dogfight, slowly opening a hole for the X-Wings and K-Wings to slip in.

Poe caught sight of a Defender coming up below like a Montra Shark, firing its lasers across his bow that made his shields buckle. He pushed forward on his joystick, letting Black 5 and 6 behind him catch the Defender in the side before it sidelonged out of the engagement. It soon linked up a fast approaching squadron, and Poe was about to give the order to engage when the feeling hit him again.

Poe? BB-8 asked, the pilots eyes suddenly going up to the looming Forge bathed in fluorescent green. It had remained perched there for the last several minutes like a reaper in a graveyard, observing everything around it. Staring into it, Poe couldn't help but feel forbidding cold that wrapped around him like an oppressive blanket.

So much so, he didn't notice the smoke suddenly trailing from his wing as Black 2 was calling in his ear, "Black Leader, come in! Black Leader, come in!"

Poe however wasn't listening. He had become entranced in that moment, hearing things he didn't understand and images he couldn't comprehend. In a strange sense, it was the same sensation Poe felt on Takodana when he'd seen his mom, and when the planet bathed in fire.

There was fear, anger, confusion… acceptance. Cold acceptance, the kind Poe himself had grown all too familiar with. That realization was answered by a wink in the darkness.

With a desperate panic, Poe hit the all-fleet frequency, "This is Commander Dameron to all New Republic Forces! The Forge is about to attack! I repeat, the Forge is about to attack!"

He was answered by a bustle of confused voices demanding clarification before being replaced by sheer, inhuman panic. The Forge flashed in bright illumination, turning from fluorescent green to shimmering red as rows upon rows of deck plating retracted to reveal batteries of turbolasers. Formations began to come about, the battle momentarily forgotten as the Forge trained its guns on the Lucrehulk and Mandalorian battlegroup posed off its bow.

A prolonged silence followed, and a false sunrise bloomed from its broadsides. In a moment, entire formations of fightercraft and ships detonated in the void, their remains atomized into screaming fragments. To his right, the Lucrehulk blazed, its shields turning a bright violet as the amber energy crashed right into it.

Caught in its path, half of the Mandalorian battlegroup went up in flames. Their gutted, blasted superstructures floated in the vacuum like drowned sailors as a second volley struck. Many were reduced to smoldering embers as the smaller, pinprick blasts of point defense guns followed.

"EVADE! EVADE!" Poe screamed as a squadron of N-1's were vaporized, showering his wingmen and craft in a storm of smoldering metal. Poe dove low under the deluge, now using the Dreadnought itself to shield his pilots. There, he got a front row seat to the inferno that followed.

The Lucrehulk danced in the lethal limelight, bravely trying to shield its fellows from the amber fire crashing into its formation only for its shields to sputter and die. Its thick armor began to peel away to molten slag, the decks below blazing under a cover of thick, oily smoke. Its engines detonated, leaving it to freefloat there, and moments later its right wing broke free and exploded.

Above, the long looming shadow of the Dreadnought shifted, painting its underhull emerald and crimson as it fired upon Admiral A'baht's unsupported cruisers. The withering deluge struck, a cruiser erupted in a billowing fireball soon followed by another.

The airways filled thousands dying in mere moments, their silence crippling to those who heard it.

"Poe," Snap's voice came on the line, "what do we do?"

For the first time in his career, Poe Dameron didn't know. All he could do was stare at the carnage ahead, and wonder how in the galaxy it had come to this. That there was nothing they could do. Nothing.

Another Mon Cruiser erupted, splitting in two and his hand squeezed into a fist.

"No, not nothing."

"Poe?"

"We fight on, Snap. We fight on."

In the gloom of the hallway, Kylo Ren fell to his knees. The station shook with distant detonations, the lights above going out. The backups kicked on, bathing everything in perpetual, dull reds as he gasped for air and clutched at his ruined cuirass. His hand slid against the wall lazily, the strength in it going as he ripped the chestplate free.

His chest howled with the effort, a rabid hiss passing through his clenched teeth as he forced his mind to concentrate. His hand went to his chest, a sputtering light of healing energy easing some of the pain away but not enough. He could feel the damage the exploding bolt had done and it was beyond his skills to heal alone.

"A week in bacta probably," he panted as he forced himself to his feet, steadying himself with a weakening hand. He made his way to the lobby, and had enough strength to stagger to the nearest lift and call for it. His eyes watched the slowly moving lights coming down. It would take long minutes to get to him, and he wondered if he'd still be conscious by then.

With a groan, he sagged against the wall, noticing the long trail of drying blood he'd left on the wall. If someone wanted to follow him, kill him maybe, they could; die here before he got to the finish line. The thought made him laugh; a choking chortle that made him gag as his chest screamed at him to stop.

Not long after, the silence gave way to the world outside. He felt thousands die, their screaming cut short like accusing fingers jutted at him. He didn't bother to shut it out.

"It was the only way," he whispered to the empty room. Not long after, he heard the footsteps. They were heavy, lethargic, almost like they were staggering as the sound echoed off deckplatting. He knew who it was and it didn't surprise him.

"You never knew when to give up."

"That makes two of us," she answered, appearing from the gloom to stand at the doorway. She was burned and lacerated, her robes torn and darkly stained. Her face was not much better, her exhausted eyes glaring out at him. She held herself steady at the arch, Kylo noticing the hand was missing fingers. The other held the broken end of her saber limply as she ignited the blade.

"We're not done, Cale," she managed through panting breaths as she stepped forward boldly, only to then fall to her knees with a gasp of pain. She managed to push herself up, take another staggering step, only to end up right back on the floor. Kylo didn't bother to get up.

"Oh for pity's sake, stop," Kylo groaned, "it's over. I won, you lost. Accept it."

"No," she answered, trying and failing to rise. Only this time, she began puking up blood.

"That feels bad," he said, "you should go get that looked at."

"How thoughtful of you," she hissed, whipping at her mouth to glare at him, "we don't compromise in the face of evil, remember? You used to understand that."

"I still do. But this?" he gestured at her, "You don't have to prove anything. You can stop now."

"You think that's what this is about?"

She shifted over, leaning against the far wall. Kylo watched her eyes, seeing the anger melt away to reluctant sadness. Eventually they drifted to nothing in particular, and her voice grew hollow.

"All those years fighting warlords and criminals, and I never really thought about why we did it."

"It was our job," he answered, "don't think there much else for us."

"We never tried. You could've been anything you wanted to be, Anything. I kinda hated you for that, to be honest."

Kylo shot her an odd look and she shrugged, "I busted my hide off on Tatooine for a decade, while everything comes easy to you. So, I lose. I always lose to you."

"Came close, though," his hand ran to the scar she gave him, "just lucky you were millimeters off."

Her face hardened, and he nodded, "Well, that was your mistake, then. You should've just killed me."

"I don't want to," she whispered, closing her eyes as tears ran down her ruined face, "I know I should, but i can't."

"Then why did you drag yourself after me, huh? Why did you leave your cell? Almost get yourself killed?"

"Because I made you a promise."

"That you would never stop coming after me?"

Her eyes brightened, "That I would save you."

"Rey," he shook his head, "I don't want you dead. But if you keep trying, you're going to die. Might be me, might be someone. But you will die."

"I don't care. I know you're still in there. And I'm willing to pay the price to get you back."

The elevator dinged and the lift doors opened. Kylo felt the energy drain from him, but he forced himself into life anyway. Rey's dull, sobbing eyes followed him, and he placed a hand against the wall to look at her one last time.

"Don't waste your life on me. I'm not worth saving."

The doors closed shut and he collapsed onto the floor. As the amber signals began to trail up, he felt the darkness come for him and he did not resist.

Author's notes

Hey everybody, this is JSailer and Squasher. It's been a while but we're back. We hope you enjoy this latest chapter, and we'll see about getting the next chapter written ASAP. Believe me, that's gonna be fun.

Oh, and we want to thank Terminator-57, Kamen Rider Raika, darth Queidus and SWEULover2007 for your reviews. Also, thanks for helping with the last scene, SWEULover2007, you were a life saver. Stay safe in the Apocalypse and the Riots. Keep your guns close and don't trust anyone who wants your money or hasn't showered in a while.