The world of Brentaal IV had always been a jewel of the Core a nexus of trade, a breadbasket of food and fuel for the Empire's endless fleets. Whoever controlled Brentaal, controlled the lifeline of a dozen sectors.
And tonight, Brentaal burned.
The Rebel fleet emerged from hyperspace like knives drawn from a sheath. Blockade runners, Alderaanian corvettes, refurbished Separatist frigates, and hidden Cassian-forged ships swept into formation. At their head, Bail Organa's flagship surged forward, its hull painted with the insignia of no world only defiance.
"Targets locked," a Rebel officer called. "Imperial depots in orbit… dry docks… all exposed."
"Then strike!" Bail barked. "For freedom open fire!"
Green and red lances of turbo-laser fire streaked across the void. Orbital stations erupted into fireballs. Imperial cargo haulers shattered, spilling burning debris into Brentaal's skies. For the first time, the Empire felt the bite of a coordinated rebellion.
But in the depths of hyperspace, doom was already on its way.
A dagger-shaped behemoth ripped into real-space the Star Destroyer Avenger, its shadow blotting out the stars. At its prow stood Darth Vader, black armor gleaming beneath the red glow of tactical readouts. Behind him, clone officers barked orders, their faces hard with indoctrination.
"Status," Vader intoned, his mechanical voice cutting like a blade.
"Lord Vader, Rebel fleet strength approximately forty capital ships, mixed tonnage," the clone captain reported. "Their formation is loose, but they are striking the supply stations with precision."
"Then we break them," Vader said simply. His fist clenched. "All batteries, fire at will. Deploy TIE wings. Prepare boarding parties."
The void erupted.
The Avenger's guns thundered, spitting emerald death into Rebel formations. A corvette exploded in a blossom of white flame, its crew vaporized in an instant. Dozens of TIE fighters screamed into the fray, swarming like locusts, overwhelming the lighter Rebel craft.
But the Rebels answered in kind. Squadrons of Y-wings dove into the TIEs, torpedoes screaming toward the Destroyer's shield generators. Cassian's upgraded algorithms guided their strikes, turning scattered attacks into coordinated salvos. A Star Destroyer escort groaned as its shields collapsed, fire ripping across its hull.
"Hit their engines!" Rebel commanders shouted. "Cut them down before they can bring reinforcements!"
Two more Imperial frigates blossomed into wreckage. The void was littered with drifting corpses and molten wreckage, a graveyard forming in orbit.
On the surface of Brentaal, cities quaked. Civilians poured into shelters as flaming wreckage rained from the sky. Farmers in the fields looked upward, watching streaks of fire scar the heavens. The Empire's promise of order and safety cracked before their very eyes.
On the Avenger, alarms shrieked.
"Shields at forty percent!" a clone officer reported.
Vader's cape swirled as he turned toward the viewport. Beyond the glass, the Rebel fleet pressed forward, hammering with suicidal ferocity. His chest rose and fell with the rhythm of his breath.
"They dare," he whispered.
He raised a gauntleted hand. Through the Force, the battlefield bent to his will. A Rebel pilot felt his throat constrict, his fighter spiraling into the path of his wingmen, colliding in a ball of fire. Vader's mind swept through the void, crushing, twisting, breaking.
"Intensify forward firepower," he ordered. "We will not yield this world."
But Cassian's hand was upon the board as well.
From hyperspace, another Rebel task force arrived sleek ships of design unknown to the Empire, birthed from Cassian's Deep Forges, bristling with Skynet-derived targeting systems. Their weapons cut into Imperial flanks with surgical precision, tearing holes in the blockade.
"Unknown contacts!" an Imperial officer shouted. "They're shredding our rear guard!"
Vader turned sharply, fury radiating from him like a storm. He knew. Cassian's touch was here. Always in the shadows, always striking at the seams of the Empire's armor.
The battle raged on. Destroyers exchanged broadsides at point-blank range, hulls cracking open as crews were hurled into space. Explosions blossomed like suns across the void. TIE squadrons clashed with X-wings and Y-wings in deadly spirals, leaving trails of fire and shattered wreckage in their wake.
And at the heart of it all, Vader pressed forward, carving through Rebel lines, even as more of Cassian's ships poured into the system.
The bridge of the Avenger shook violently as a torpedo detonated against the shields.
"Lord Vader, we cannot hold Brentaal without reinforcements!" the clone admiral shouted over the chaos.
Vader said nothing. His fists tightened at his sides. Through the Force, he felt Palpatine's distant gaze cold, expectant, demanding victory. He would not fail.
Yet in the darkness beyond the battle, Cassian watched as his trap closed tighter.
The Empire had come in strength. But would it leave in ashes?
To be continued…