One day later.
The dark edge of the system flickered. One by one, pale blue funnels split open against the stars, shedding streaks of hyperspace light before collapsing back into silence. From them came warships. First a single line of destroyers, then a second wave, then more behind, as they stood in contrast to the dark graveyard.
At the center of the formation, the Maelstrom-class battlecruiser Excalibur emerged. Its vast silhouette dwarfed the ships flanking it, long armored ridges catching the light of the system's star. The flagship cut ahead, slow and steady, as the smaller vessels fell into escort positions around its flanks.
"Confirm emergence complete," a mechanical voice droned on the Excalibur's bridge.
"Seventy-three capital signatures accounted for," another droid confirmed. "Remaining ships entering in rapid succession. No spatial drift. Synchronization optimal."
Across the task force, orders rippled outwards in the same flat tones.
"Primary line: maintain forward vector."
"Screening frigates: expand perimeter, seventy-five klicks."
"Fighter complements: prepare for immediate release."
"Carriers: cycle through launch bays. Priority to fighter formations."
From the ventral hangars of the Venators, doors groaned open, and endless streams of starfighters poured into the void. V-wings and interceptors formed tight grids, their repulsors flaring in neat symmetry as droid controllers slotted them into pre-assigned corridors. Heavier Y-wing derivatives trailed behind, their bulbous fuselages bristling with ordnance pods, moving with slower but deliberate formation.
The communications bands were a blur of chatter—sterile, efficient, stripped of anything but task designations:
"Red Group: ascend four degrees, join Delta Nine."
"Alpha Squadron: clearance confirmed. Move to intercept grid seven."
"Bomber Wing Three: vector five-two mark three-one. Maintain throttle at sixty percent."
Within ten minutes of arrival, the system's star was rimmed with orderly lattices of starfighters. To any observer, it would look less like a battle deployment and more like someone decided to systematically spill white paint on the dark .
Onboard the Endurance, one of the Venator-class destroyers assigned to the spearhead, the bridge crew was entirely droid-run, save for a single captain sitting rigid in his command chair. His visor reflected the pale glow of the tactical holo in front of him.
"Fighter release at 68%. Increasing at optimal rate." the tactical droid intoned.
"Bomber reserves holding at carrier staging points."
"Long-range missiles preparing. Flushing ports. Loading ordinance."
The captain nodded once. He didn't bother to reply—he knew the droids would carry out every sequence regardless of acknowledgement. His role was to interpret the greater pattern, to anticipate the moment when machine logic failed to respond to unpredictability.
Out ahead, three dozen Munificent-class cruisers advanced in a wide net, their spindly frames bristling with power surges as their shields came online.
The graveyard stirred.
From the drifting wreckage of a thousand ships long dead, sharp glints of movement cut free—angular small dark objects cut through the fields of debris. The Collector interceptors rose without sound, their eyes pulsing a sickly amber, weapons already charging as they moved in sudden packs of two and three.
On the periphery of the Imperial formation, one of the droid squadrons picked up the intruders.
"Unidentified hostiles," a clone pilot reported over comms, his voice calm but edged with focus. "Marking twelve, fast movers. Bearing zero-eight-two, ascending through debris field."
The tactical droid's voice cut in immediately:
"Designation: hostile. Redirect wings Gamma, Delta, and Six-Nine. Intercept and eliminate."
The void lit up as red lances of concentrated particle beams fired outward from the incoming Collector interceptors, cutting swathes through the graveyard and cutting through half a dozen droid fighters with no problem. The Imperial craft reacted with unexpected ferocity, darting with eerie, organic precision through the incoming fire and returning salvos of concentrated red lances of laser fire.
One Imperial droid fighter detonated instantly, its fuselage split apart by a jagged debris from another fighter. Another droid fighter spiraled out of formation, venting gas before it collided with the husk of a derelict ship.
But it was not an equal exchange, as out of the first engagement only about 2 Collector interceptors made it out, one of them leaving a heavy trail of smoke as the fighters turned to pursue.
"Gamma Two down."
"Confirm loss of Delta Five."
"Enemy fire is coherent-beam, repeat—energy-based. Adjusting threat classification."
For a heartbeat, the unexpected flash of laser weapons caused a dent in their formation. The enemy's technology was alien—mass accelerators were all that the Empire had seen thus far in this galaxy, clumsy slugs hurled through space. These new beams burned bright and cut fast.
But numbers did not lie.
Within seconds, the swarm closed in. The Collector interceptors found themselves swallowed by massive firepower as the droid craft fell upon them in merciless volleys.
"Enemy craft neutralized," came the report.
"Confirmed twelve kills. Imperial losses: seven droid fighters. Negligible."
On the Excalibur, the voice of a senior tactical droid cut into the command channel.
"Observation: hostile weaponry utilizes directed energy. Assessment: Council combat doctrines thus far displayed reliance on projectile-based armament exclusively. Recommend fleet-wide adjustment— raise energy shields. "
One by one, across the fleet, confirmations rang out. Seconds later, a hum rolled through the formation as energy shields came online.
"Frontline reconfiguration complete," the Excalibur's shield officer droned.
The Red Queen's voice rippled softly across the command deck of the Excalibur, calm as ever, though it bore that edge of precision that reminded every officer who heard it that she was more than machine.
"All deployed fighter craft will require grounding post-operation," she stated. "Conversion of shield harmonics from kinetic to energy-based matrices will be necessary if we are to prepare against the projected Reaper incursion. Capital ships can maintain dual-layer systems, but fighters and bombers remain limited to a single defensive shell. Recommend immediate planning for recall and refit once the Core system is secured."
Sors listened, fingers tapping idly against the edge of the tactical table. He gave no comment, only a sharp nod—the kind that ended discussion.
A moment later, a tactical droid's monotone voice broke through.
"Visual contact established. Unstable energy signature emanating from hostile base structure. Collector vessel detected—classification: cruiser analogue. Estimate: 600–700 meters length. Weapon profile unknown. Orders?"
"Bring it down, gently..." Sors answered simply.
The droid swiveled to its comms console. "Directive: deploy Ion strike package."
In the void ahead, three clone captains received the signal simultaneously, their command icons flashing green across the squadron grid.
"Order received. Target: Collector cruiser. All wings under Gamma, Delta, and Kappa groups—arm Ion payloads. Missiles and torpedoes only. Standby for saturation strike."
In the cockpits, clone pilots flicked switches as racks of warheads armed. Droid fighters alongside them responded instantly, wings unfolding into attack formation as their programming synchronized with the lead captains' flight paths.
"Gamma Leader to flight—tighten it up. G1 to G6, stay in my wake until we're through their defense screen."
"Delta Wing, report ready. Ion torpedoes hot."
"Kappa Six confirms lock. Forming on vector."
One by one, acknowledgments rolled through, each crisp, clipped, efficient.
On the heavy cruisers, the Munificent-class warships reoriented, their elongated prows swinging in steady arcs until their primary cannons faced the Collector vessel.
"Helm, rotate two degrees starboard. Tactical, charge main Ion cannon."
"Charging sequence begun. Cooling subsystems compensating. Estimated readiness in 15 seconds."
Another captain's voice came in from a sister ship.
"Confirming lock. Adjusting for gravitational drift from derelict debris. Firing solution achieved—awaiting fleet synchronization."
Engineer and tactical droids reported in perfect rhythm, their voices cutting across the deck like the ticking of a metronome.
"Power transfer complete."
"Ion capacitors at seventy-three percent."
"Main battery alignment corrected, error margin reduced to .008."
"All secondary systems green."
The hum of charging filled the bridge, so low it was almost felt more than heard. Status lights bathed the consoles in blue and green. Crew stood motionless, waiting for the order to unleash the opening salvo.
The tactical droid aboard the Excalibur transmitted across the fleet net:
"All Ion platforms report readiness. Heavy Ion batteries aligned. Fighter wings enclosing the enemy vessel. Entering the firing range in 3,2,1. Fire."
From the Munificent heavy cruisers, twin lances of concentrated Ion fire cut through the graveyard, brilliant arcs of white-blue light punching forward with surgical precision. Fighter groups screamed across the flank, hundreds of droid interceptors and bombers in synchronized formation releasing their payloads in staggering waves—missiles streaking like falling stars toward the Collector cruiser.
The enemy vessel reacted with surprising swiftness. Its form banking on one side aiming to avoid a massive portion of the damage as all its weapon systems opened fire, even the main weapon pulsing as it aimed to swipe a massive portion of the salvo, bioluminescent weapon clusters spitting back streams of yellow plasma. Several missiles erupted prematurely, vaporized mid-flight, while a few droid fighters vanished in blossoms of fire as beams found their marks.
"Gamma Six down."
"Kappa Zero disabled—pilot ejected."
"Delta Wing continuing run—lock established, missiles away!"
The cruisers' shields shimmered under the Collector counterfire, yet held as the beams ran across its hull, shields flickering to light as it negated the possible damage.
The sheer weight of numbers told the story.
Heavy Ion Bolts reached first, first ones glancing as they disabled secondary weapons and propulsion systems, slowing the ship even further before the first shot found its mark, disabling the Collector cruiser main weapon as the others even melted sections of the cruiser outright.
Following after, Ion torpedoes and missiles slammed home, bursts of light cascading over the vessel's hull. Its glowing carapace flickered, engines stuttering as the unstable reactor core flared visibly from within.
"Enemy cruiser shields collapsed!" reported one tactical droid flatly.
"Power readings falling. Reactor fluctuating but stable. Begin troop deployment."
Sors spoke from his command seat. "Secure the hostile vessel for analysis. Prepare deployment waves for the Collector base—Swarm them with droids, enforce with dreadnought prototypes, secure a staging area, then deploy the heavy units."
"Affirmative," replied the comms droid. "Deployments readying."
The fleet moved with clinical precision. Three Arquitens light cruisers and two corvettes broke formation, moving closer to the drifting Collector ship. Magnetic clamps extended, tethers prepared, and troop complements shifted to standby.
The stillness lasted only seconds. Then the warning came.
"ALERT," a tactical droid's voice droned across the fleet net. "Massive fluctuation in core stability. Hostile reactor entering critical stage."
The bridge of the Arquitens exploded in action, shook with renewed urgency.
"Pull them back. NOW!" barked the nearest clone captain.
But they were already too close.
The Collector cruiser convulsed as though still alive, armor cracking under the pressure of its own reactor's failure. A surge of yellow light expanded outward in jagged arcs—energy ripping the void apart.
The fighters, warned in time, broke off at full burn. Their engines flared as they scattered, slipping away just ahead of the detonation. Clones' calm voices echoed through the comms:
"Echo Wing clear."
"Zeta Leader clear. Lost two droid escorts in the blast, rest intact."
"Jericho reporting green across the board."
The corvettes weren't so fortunate.
The blast wave swallowed the two smallest ships whole, their shields collapsing under the sheer energy spike. The shields glowed bright for a quick moment, then collapsed, unsuited for this kind of pressure as the rest of the ship tore apart moments after.
The three Arquitens fared better—barely. Their shields flared, then collapsed as containment failed. One took the brunt of the plasma wash, superheated scoring running the length of its hull, tearing deep gouges into the plating. Another listed under partial engine failure, hull cracked but not breached. The third staggered under stress fractures across its dorsal frame, alarms shrieking before the ship stabilized.
Sors exhaled once, a steady breath. His voice remained even.
"Record the incident. Note their self destructive tendency as opposed to resistance when faced with no possibility of victory. Tactical assets are not to risk proximity again without my authorization."
He turned back to the map, eyes narrowing on the pulsing signature of the Collector base.
"The same scenario is likely to happen if we attack the station... hold our forces and prepare the Silencer."
Though a simple fact kept pestering him.
'If they just waited until we breached their interna defenses, they could have caused much greater damage... then why did they self-destruct so early? A machine would weigh the cost-benefit... and which scenario would cause the greater damage to our troops.'
Looking at the tactical deployment holomap, Sors gaze wondered lower at the terminal itself as his eyes narrowed.
Sors' hand flexed against the table. He did not like guessing games.
"Prepare the Silencer," he said simply. The words slid through the bridge and down the chain like ice.
A dozen droids acknowledged at once.
"Silencer charging," the droid reported. "Capacitor array at 30% percent ad rising. Thermal bleed within expected tolerances."
"Secondary capacitors on standby." The voice was flat, clinical, as if reciting a checklist. "Power coupling nominal. Ready to fire on your command."
Fighter captains pulled wings back from the front to widen forward arcs. Boarding craft stilled in bay locks, trooper complements ordered to hard standby. The boarding teams were not canceled—the Empire still valued boots on the ground to secure what could be salvaged and to recover intelligence—but Sors wanted certainty before he fed legions into a trap. Though that would be hard with no ground to speak of.
The Silencer's hum rose from the depths of the battlecruiser, a tone you felt in bone as much as in air: the promise of concentrated annihilation.
"FIRE."
The beam birthed itself in a silence that was almost obscene, a single, thick lance of concentrated energy leaping from the Maelstrom's bow. It struck with absolute precision.
For an instant nothing seemed to happen. Then the station screamed—not an audible cry, but a violent shudder through fields and plates. The impact point glowed a furious white, then ragged cracks splayed outward.
"Primary containment breached," the droid reported. "Secondary isolation failed. Reactor coupling destabilizing—power spikes propagating along radial lattice. Initiate shock dampers."
Explosions blossomed in depth, one after another—microbreaches turning into ruptures; ruptures into rupturing corridors; corridors into boiling volumes of plasma and collapse. Bay doors warped and folded inward. Internal gravity fields stuttered and collapsed.
"Core rupture," the tactical droid announced, almost dispassionately. "Projected full meltdown in 8 seconds."
Sors had already lost interest, a gentle push of the force pressing a button on his helmet as it opened a direct channel and masked his voice from the droids on the bridge.
"Speak." - The commanding voice of Darth Vader echoed in his ear.
"Lord Vader, forgive my disruption. I have suspicions regarding the enemy Artificial Intelligence presence aboard my fleet. Requesting permission to isolate the fleet in this system, shut down the relays & Red Queen node core onboard to begin manual and force inspections." - He said as his eyes leveled on the console in front of him.