Showstopper [Kalist System]

[Rugs]

Location: Republic Military Research Center X-02, Kalist System, Deep Core

Test: Superweapon test

Purpose: Determine destructive capabilities of One-Stage Planetary Defense Elimination System (OPSDES), Codename: Project Vanguard

Classification: HIGH

T-16:38... 16:37...16:36...

Alder paced back and forth, tapping his finger along the smooth metal handrail. At the end of each circuit, he’d pause, turning first to the big clock, counting down in bold, garish red that could illuminate the far side system if they pointed it out the window. After watching the seconds tick by, he’d turn to the viewing panel — a wide, circular transparisteel window. A dozen panels were arranged around it, showing a dozen different things — technician crews, the sparse handful of ships stationed in the system, and so on.

Alder ignored them.

The Fulcrum sat in a very high orbit over Kallist III. It was a dry world. Rocky. Barren. Dead, with only traces of hydrogen and oxygen in an atmosphere far too thin to support life. The Fuclrum was, officially, a military science vessel. Most of its usual crew had been cleared out and stationed at the research facility on Kalist VI to make room for the day’s guests: himself, two senators, the military Chiefs of Staff and select representatives from the Jedi High Council.

Officially, none of them were in the Kalist system.

T-14:59... 14:58...:14:57...

Another ship hung in orbit below them, outlined against Kalist III’s sunlit face. From a distance, it looked more like a starport with a split, elongated tail than a vessel.

Project Vanguard.

Alder stopped mid-pace to watch the screen that showed the thing. The superweapon. This monstrosity, the brainchild of some of the Republic’s sharpest minds, cost Alder no small amount of sleep in the days and weeks since its completion.

Oh, he’d read the reports and their estimations, countless times. The first shocked him so that he didn’t believe it — that he demanded more thorough reporting from the research and development team. The reports, more detailed than any he’d ever seen for a military project, came in. They didn’t disprove the original estimations.

They confirmed them.

T-13:25... 13:24... 13:23...

At the lowest estimation, Project Vanguard — itself an oversized railgun near the size of the Enduring Flame — could fire a projectile that could decimate an area larger than most large cities with a single blow. The more extreme estimations pointed to a weapon capable of destroying areas larger than continents, and that was only for direct damage.

Such ruin would leave a planet a lifeless husk. That thing was a planet-killer.

Today, they’d put it to the proof. They’d unleash their creation upon a lifeless world, far away from the Galaxy’s prying eyes, in the deepest recesses of the Deep Core.

T-12:16... 12:15... 12:14...

To possess this thing was a stain on the Republic. To contemplate using it was worse. Yet if it became a choice of survival or Sith dominion, or if the Sith unleashed some horror upon the Republic as they’d done at Taris...

Alder stopped in at the center of the rail and leaned forward, arms gripping it at shoulder width. Force help us.

T-11:44... 11:43... 11:42...

[Fromikeable]

”Begin T-10 go-no-go. Power?”

“Go.”

“Acceleration?”

“Go.”

“Targeting.”

“Go.”

“Calibration.”

“Go…”

Horst counted silently as each of the sixty seven checks was asked its status, just as had occurred at T-20, and T-60, and so on, and so on. Each round had felt like another inch closer to armageddon, and now, with the last round of checks, each “Go” felt like the devils lining up, their spears-

”Projectile?”

“No-go, MD. Currently blocked by a red mass miscalculation.”

“Do you need a delay?”

“Negative, just two minutes, awaiting confirmation from the operators.”

“Roger. Secondary check scheduled at T-8.”

Horst sighed. The only thing worse than devils were indecisive devils. Peeling the headset off of his head, he rubbed his ears as he stood and checked the time.

T-9:43… T-9:42… T-9:41…

Rolling his shoulders, Horst spared a nod of acknowledgement to the captain of the Fulcrum. Abandoning his borrowed station at the science ship’s bridge, Horst made his way through the ship proper, noting the mood. Somber. Quiet. Not just from the skeleton crew, but from the hushed whispers of what few sailors he did pass, what eery silence seemed to ring through the halls. Maybe the Jedi were on to something with their mysticism; if energy came from all living things, then it would explain why the ship felt so dead.

Moreover, why it felt so dreadful.

Stopping at a conference room, Horst found the remaining chiefs of staff, each quiet and waiting. Without an exchanged word, they followed as he lead them to the observation deck, filing out of the lift into the primary room with nary a sound but shuffling boots.

Coming up next to Alder, Horst opened his mouth to speak. The same clinical voices from before cut him off.

”T-8 secondary check. Projectile, status?”

“We are go, MD. Miscalculation resolved, projectile is on standby.”

”There goes my good news…” Murmuring quietly to Alder, Horst shrugged a single shoulder, gazing out the window at the super weapon. It was little surprise; he’d seen it when it was simply a piece of concept art, then when it was a rough set of schematics, and so on. But seeing it now in the flesh, floating slowly into place, gave it a new weight.

One Horst tried not to think too heavily about.

[Ysmir]

---

Alston hadn't been graced with a lick of sleep the night before. He received the invitation on extremely short notice, but the nature of the request was something he was in no position to decline.

T-10:43... T-10:42... T-10:41...

So here he was. The guest quarters of the Fulcrum were nice, nicer than what he was used to, but he supposed that was to be expected of such a vessel. Though no matter how squishy his bed was and no matter how dark the window shutters made his room when the hay called, it couldn't wash the overbearing presence of what he was about to see from his mind. Alston wasn't usually the type of man to let any sort of fear or anxiety freeze him from action, but this case was different than any other. This wasn't an enemy line he had to somehow worm his way into. This wasn't an entrenched position he was being tasked with uprooting. Those were tangible problems with tangible solutions that he trusted his instincts with.

This was guilt. This was the knowledge that, as a direct result of actions he undertook, the Galaxy may never be the same again.

Would it be for the best?

T-9:13... T-9:12... T-9:11...

He guessed only time would tell. Until then, his conscience would eat at him. He'd made peace with that.

Resolved to no longer mope about in his quarters with his tail between his legs, Alston heaved a prolonged breath and stood from the chair. With the omnipresent countdown echoing through the vessel's PA system, Alston began the trek from the bunks to the observation deck where his host resided.

Alston only had the pleasure of meeting the Chancellor in person once; shortly after the Battle of Coruscant, Alder Vrieska was the man who personally pinned the Republic Cross to Alston's lapel. Unlike many other leaders, the words he left Alston with that day weren't just rehearsed, they were meaningful, heartfelt even. The care Alder seemed to hold for the men and women of the Republic that did the dirty work was cause enough to give Alston hope that they brass knew what they were doing for this, that it would only be used when absolutely necessary. A weapon like this was something most in the Galaxy would expect the Empire to concoct, but never the Republic. When Alston had been informed about the nature of his security detail months ago, he could have never imagined himself what it would be for.

Deterrents almost never worked out. He prayed inwardly to whatever deity there was that this atrocity wouldn't ever be fired at anything living.

It was apparent as he walked through the vessel, passing sparsely scattered workers and essential crew, that many others held his opinions as well. It didn't take a Jedi to feel the disturbance in the ship's hallways, mostly devoid of crew. Only Alston himself and a handful of engineers, scientists, and Republic chiefs-of-staff even knew of this project's existence. And among those, Alston was the only field operative. Just a soldier. He didn't know whether to feel honored, or cursed.

T-8:01... T-8:00.. T-7:59...

The doors to the observation deck parted for Alston, and he was greeted with the backs of many people he was vaguely aware of. In the small group, one voice stuck out among the rest.

"There goes my good news..."

Alston made his way past a few bodies toward the front, where he slipped next to Horst quietly.

"I'll trade you some," Alston quipped as he crossed his arms, levelling a gaze over to his old mentor. Despite the tone in the room, the silence, Alston smiled. "For the drink you still owe me."

General Horst Stellar; it was still odd to think of him that way. When Alston stood side-by-side with the man, all he saw was his Captain. Although age had begun taking its hold on Horst, silver mane a stark contrast against the dark of space, he'd never lost that defiant glint in his eye. It was a spark that could convince the most hopeless of people to charge into fire alongside him, a trait that Alston admired.

"Horst. Chancellor Vrieska," Alston added on shortly after, giving the Chancellor a small nod of greeting. Under normal circumstances, he'd offer both of them a salute, as was customary for his superiors. But this was anything but normal.

He reset his gaze through the transparisteel window as it finally loomed into view. So much build up, so much wonder and anticipation, and it could never prepare someone for this sight. It was impossibly huge, like someone had taken a dreadnought and converted the entire thing into a railgun. How the R&D department managed to piece this behemoth together without anybody knowing, Alston could only imagine. But regardless, here it was in the flesh, giving the entire situation a sense of tangibility that only confirmed the worries that pervaded his thoughts. But it was too late for regrets.

T-6:59... T-6:58... T-6:57...

Alston's eyes quirked up to the PA in the ceiling. "Almost time."

[Rugs]

The minutes passed, second by agonizing second, in relative silence, save for the timer’s steady, emotionless countdown. Every second that lurched by felt longer and more drawn out than the one that came before. Alder busied himself wondering if they might stretch on to infinity, pushing them further away from firing the weapon he closer the clock got to zero.

T-8:37... T-8:36... T-8:35...

If only we could be so lucky. Time, regardless of his perception of it, would not bend to such whims. It marched steadily on, careless of the doubts in the Supreme Chancellor’s stomach or the terrors it dragged them toward.

There was another way out of it. Alder could say the word and scrap the test. Everyone--science teams, military leadership, Senate representatives, Jedi--would all leave the system none the wiser for having gone through a hundred different headaches to arrive. None of them would know Project Vanguard’s full potential. They’d have their estimations and simulations, but if they didn’t know, that’d clear their consciences, right? Absolve them of guilt?

No. To ignore the thing’s potential did not eliminate it. To use a weapon blindly did not make it any less deadly, and in Alder’s eyes, purposefully blinding themselves to the truth of their creation was worse than knowing what they might unleash upon the Galaxy.

Footsteps on the deck behind him. Alder looked over his shoulder to see Horst approaching. The doors behind him opened again, admitting Alston Storm.

“There goes my good news,” the general grumbled. Alder nodded, returning his gaze to the viewscreen. To Project Vanguard and the deserted world waiting beyond.

“Captain Storm,” he said in greeting to Alston after some moments of silence. “It’s good to see you again. Been quite a while since Coruscant.” Alder turned a smile to the man. It was the least he could do to try to soften the dour mood that hung over the Fulcrum. “I trust you are doing well?”

Alder’s gaze drifted to the timer, ever tick-ticking down.

T-5:42... T-5:41... T-5:40...

His smile, which now failed to touch his eyes, grew tight. “As well as any of us here can be, at least.”

Another silence settled over the observation deck. Alder glanced at one of the Jedi — Councilor Lel Reu — standing at the deck’s far end. The Nagai stood in thoughtful silence, arms folded across their slender chest into their robe’s broad sleeves. It was regrettable that Grandmaster Moho had been unable to attend, but the Order — like the Republic — had much to see to in the way of preparing for the coming tempest. Alder couldn’t begrudge the aged Jedi his absence.

He was thankful that a member of the Council saw fit to attend the day’s test; he’d made every effort to be as open with the Order, via Moho, as he could with regards to Project Vanguard. When war came again, he’d not have them riding to battle without knowing what cards the Republic held.

”Five minutes to launch.” A voice called over the Fulcrum’s speakers.

“General,” Alder said, turning to Horst, “is everything ready? When the time comes,” he motioned now to the broad viewport, at the superweapon hanging silently in space, “is it going to work?”

[Fromikeable]

Listenin' music

Horst couldn’t quite produce a response to Alston, giving the man a half-heartedly smile and nod instead. He appreciated the humor, but…

He got the distinct feeling what they were about to see would pretty severely change who would want to get a drink with him.

T-4:59… T-4:44… T-4:36…

Turning to Alder, Horst glanced back at the assembled chiefs of staff. They were military through and through, so at face value, each looked calm and collected. Stiff, perhaps, but that was always the case. But the little signals were there. One general lightly shuffled their foot. Another adjusted their cuffs. Still another kept their dominant hand glued to their side, their palm and thumb positioned perfectly to grab a blaster that wasn’t there.

”That’s the wrong question, Chancellor.” Shifting his gaze back out the window, additional calls began to rumble through the speakers as the support ships around the weapon began to break away, the device itself beginning to light up under its own power.

”You should be wondering how much it’s going to work.”

”T minus 4 minutes. Begin primary power sequence.”

The weapon’s main rails began to glow section by section as they were powered. By the time all were bright and shining, small arcs of electricity could be seen lazily leaping between the rails, their temperatures and energy outputs being confirmed over the speakers.

”T minus 2 minutes, 30 seconds. Begin loading sequence.”

At the end of the rails, where the long arms of the barrel met the main body, a large silver mass the size of a capital ship could be seen emerging. Only the head peaked out, the body still housed within the main firing mechanism, but the arcs of energy took to the object almost immediately. The rails continued to increase their brightness, a pale blue bathing the observation deck.

”T minus 60 seconds. Confirm final projectile status and targeting solutions.”

”Targeting is confirmed.”

”Standby…”

”T-48… T-34…”

”Projectile is confirmed.”

”T-10… 9… 8… begin primary propulsion.”

The rails peaked in their intensity, nearly making the weapon and everything in its direction impossible to view.

”3… 2… 1… fire.”

With a final, blinding burst of light, the projectile disappeared in a brilliant streak. By the time the light had faded, the projectile was long gone; only a distinct trail of light and particles made its path clear, the point at which it split into its many smaller parts apparent, and the paths of those children. The individual missiles could just be seen streaking violently through the planet’s atmosphere.

Then the first hit the surface.

Then the second.

Then the rest.

Each was more spectacular than the last, the crust at the points of impact shattering like panes of glass. The land around each evaporated, the local atmosphere glowing red with heat, the ground shifting and churning like a sea. A fair few began to glow red as the planet’s tectonics found relief, magma spewing up onto the world above. Others collapsed, with one impact point by the sea disappearing under the waves, making way for the ocean to consume part of the continent.

Horst found himself with a hand raised to his chin, rubbing his stubble far more roughly than he’d meant to, dead quiet as the speakers continued to crackle with initial reports on the impact.

"96% of targets are direct hits. Impact force underestimated by 41.635%. Atmospheric effects developing, awaiting..."

[Ysmir]

Silence. It almost gave Alston pause when he saw that defiant glint replaced by hesitation, a mood he was unfamiliar with Horst displaying. Even Chancellor Vrieska was gripped entirely by uncertainty, though Alston thoroughly appreciated the fact that the man remembered him. But a politician's memory was a powerful thing.

Alston kept his eyes forward through the transparisteel as Alston and Alder exchanged words. The atmosphere grew even heavier as the countdown marched ever onward.

”T minus 2 minutes, 30 seconds. Begin loading sequence.”

Alston was taken aback by the sheer size of the device they could see from a safe distance -- so large, in fact, that any distance seemed anything other than "safe". Brilliant sparks of electricity and the glow of their energy washed over the observation deck, so bright that it almost seemed like a second sun. Alston drew his lips in taught and dropped his arms by his side as the energy grew more and more intense. The words over the PA confirmed that this was to be expected, and it would only grow stronger.

”T minus 60 seconds. Confirm final projectile status and targeting solutions.”

”Targeting is confirmed.”

”Standby…”

”T-48… T-34…”

”Projectile is confirmed.”

Everything was adding up to this moment. Alston wasn't sure what exactly he felt anymore. Contempt, worry, anxiety, excitement? Everything was blending together as the firing solution's were drawn up and the device they had so tediously kept secret was ready to show what it could really do. He'd never been in a room with so many Jedi before and he couldn't feel the Force, but he was sure that if he could, it would be crying right about now.

His eyes squinted as the rails glowed so brilliantly, it nearly burned his retina.

”3… 2… 1… fire.”

Alston's eyes widened.

The initial hit was so blindingly fast, Alston's trained and perceptive eyes barely registered it at all. What they saw afterward seemed oddly peaceful with the lack of any sound, but the surface of that world...

God, what is this?

Alston's lips parted as the light subsided and the world below came into full view. The earth visibly yawned open and shot magma into the atmosphere. Cracks spread through the crust as the clouds themselves were thrust out of view by the power of the projectile, and the very integrity of the planet seemed to be failing with each passing second.

"96% of targets are direct hits. Impact force underestimated by 41.635%. Atmospheric effects developing, awaiting..."

Alston felt his stomach churn. No amount of mental preparation, no reassurance, could have prepared him for this. This was a more intense evil than anything he had ever seen the Sith use. It was destruction, plain and simple. Cold, callous, unfeeling, unyielding. Whatever world the Republic ever chose to unleash this sin on would certainly no longer be a problem in their eyes. But at what cost? Billions of lives? Trillions? Countless more unseen? Alston knew, in his heart, that Alder wouldn't let something like this go unchecked. That Horst wouldn't.

Or so he hoped. Authority had a funny way of letting you down sometimes.

He stepped back from the screen and lifted both hands, unwilling or unable to stare at the utter destruction bubbling above the cracks in the dead planet's surface. He caught his breath as he turned away, placing both hands on his hips and staring at his feet in contemplative silence.

[Rugs]

“That’s the wrong question, Chancellor.” Alder’s jaw flexed as he stood silent, thoughtful. Horst knew as well as anyone here what the thing waiting in space before them was capable of. His tone, his words, inspired confidence that the weapon would work, and work well. What should have been a testament to Republic engineering and research efforts felt like a knot of discomfort in the pit of Alder’s stomach.

“You should be wondering how much it’s going to work.”

Alder wiped his sweatless brow and turned again to watch as the clock tick-tick-ticked ever on toward zero. He licked his lips, which felt dry on the ship’s cool observation deck. “Well, I’m sure the budget hawks in the Senate will be pleased once we reveal this thing works,” he said, without a trace of amusement in his voice.

Yes, what better message could there be? The Republic now possessed a means to eradicate billions of souls with a single shot, but at least it hadn’t wasted money. Alder scowled.

”T minus 60 seconds. Confirm final projectile status and targeting solutions.”

Alder rolled his shoulders, trying in vain to remove the knotted tension that settled in the middle of his back. If anything, the motion made it worse. Oh, how he wished to just close his eyes and pass through the next few moments in blissful ignorance.

T-10... 9... 8...

Project Vanguard began to glow as its rails. Even miles away, the thing glowed so brightly that Alder had to squint until the viewing screen dimmed to compensate for the splendor.

Here we stand, Alder told himself, on the precipice. The next seconds passed in total, suffocating silence, broken only by the countdown.

Then it fired. The projectile’s blur was gone nearly as soon as Alder could perceive it. That alone might have been reason for wonder, but what happened next demanded the whole of his attention.

Blinding light bloomed on the barren world’s surface, then another. And another and another as the multiple projectiles fell like hail across the planet’s face. Alder’s gaze shifted to a secondary screen — one of several feeds from observation droids hovering in atmosphere across the many impact zones. Two feeds immediately cut out to silent static.

A third showed a craggy mountain disintegrate in a pillar of fire and magma as the world’s crust buckled and tore apart. From afar, the stresses tormenting the test world were immediately apparent. Angry, glowing cracks raced across its surface as dark clouds of smoke and debris welled up from the impact site and bruised the thin atmosphere.

Stunned gasps rippled through the observation deck. Alder’s grip tightened on the railing until his hand began to hurt. “Force save us...” one of the Jedi whispered.

"96% of targets are direct hits. Impact force underestimated by 41.635%. Atmospheric effects developing, awaiting..."

Circles of red fire blossomed across the planet’s face as its crust failed and magma roared in fiery eruptions to the surface. Alder watched as another feed showed thick clouds of steam thrown toward a burning sky as the ocean began to boil. Far in the distance, obscured by the ocean’s billowing steam, a wall of glowing dirt and rock and detritus towered into the sky.

“Atmospheric temperatures increasing across all sectors. Increases exceed 650 percent near impact zones. Higher temperatures expected near ground level. Rapidly rising temperatures observed at far-side observation points. Expected to exceed 200 degrees Standard planet-wide.”

Alder found it hard to breathe. Such conditions would boil just about any living thing alive. That alone could wipe out life on a planet. To say nothing of the horrific geological effects playing out before his eyes.

“Multiple ejecta plumes rising. Estimated altitude of 530 kilometers. Expected to reach low orbit. Larger debris observed falling back toward surface.”

Feed 008 showed a gargantuan piece of rock — easily half-kilometer wide — tumbling from the sky and into the roiling sea. It was all nearly too much for him to process at once. The principles behind Project Vanguard were simple. Everyone knew what a large enough asteroid could do to a world

But this was different. This was man-made — a cataclysm shot at a planet at some percentage of lightspeed, with no intention other than to kill. To destroy. The physical world itself might survive the impact, but nothing else would.

“Horst,” Alder began slowly, at once at a loss for words, “what have we done?”

[Fromikeable]

Horst wanted more than anything not to watch. It wasn’t the destruction; in a world of turbolasers and battleships and conflict, he’d seen destruction. It was one thing for a village to be erased from a planet, or a fort rendered to rubble. Those were all within the scope of sentient kind. They’d all been done time and time again, and in a sick sort of way, were comfortably familiar. Common place. Easy to grasp.

Not this. Not destroying the surface of an entire planet in a few minutes’ work.

But Horst forced himself to watch. With every act of god that ruined the crust, every twist of fate that transformed the world below, Horst just scowled. Every time he imagined souls running for their lives, he reminded himself that they would be soldiers. Every time he imagined buildings collapsing, he reminded himself that they would be collateral damage.

That was the only perspective that would allow him the sheer gaul to ever deploy this… thing. To contend with the Empire when they would inevitably deploy theirs.

”I’ll let you know when I figure it out, Chancellor.” Unaware of how unusually quiet he was, Horst stuck his hands in his pockets. Watching yet more debris on another feed slam into a barren plain, Horst’s eyes danced between every new, dust-flooded crater, the heat lines radiating through the atmosphere making the entire image shudder. Like the laws of physics themselves were appalled by what was happening.

”I do know that you’d better look at it, Commander Storm.” Refusing to rip his eyes from the feeds, Horst settled for tapping Alston’s shoulder and pointing at them.

”There shouldn’t be a single person in this room that leaves without seeing exactly what it does.” The words came across almost as a threat, Horst’s tone sharpening. That was the point of the demonstration, after all. That was why they hadn’t simply written a two-page memo talking about the project was complete, about how its capabilities exceeded previous estimates.

From now on, no one was allowed to even mention Project Vanguard without feeling the appropriate level of horror.

[Ysmir]

Alston was called back from the depths of his mind by a subtle tapping on his shoulder. The Commander lifted his head and turned toward the feed at Horst's behest.

Everything seemed calmer now, but that was a relative term. The waves continued rocking across the surface, disrupted only by the plumes of magma and rock shooting through the crack's in the planet's surface. Alston's eyes swept from the screen to the view through the window at the weapon itself, now dimming as its firing procedure slowed to a halt. Steam from the heat it generated whisked away lazily into the vacuum of space before evaporating shortly after, leaving an almost ghostly aura of mist around the device which veiled it in otherworldly translucence.

Alston vaguely overheard the mutterings of the intercom as they reported the developing atmospheric effects and ever-changing conditions on the now devastated surface, but he paid little mind. His stomach settled and his nerves ceased buzzing alight with anxiety. The Commander had caught his breath, but could still hardly believe what his eyes were seeing.

Debris tumbled from the heavens and the planet proper hardly resembled what it had seemed to be before all of this chaos erupted.

"I... I understand, General," Alston said with a nod to Horst's words long after the fact.

He was right, after all. This is what they had gathered here for. Everyone here knew what they came to see -- maybe not to this extent, but to wield such a power, you needed to know what it could do. And know, they did.

The straightforward way with which Horst carried himself alleviated some of Alston's fears. He caught a glimpse of the Chancellor, who seemed just as distraught as Alston himself was. Then he scanned the room, each glimmering and horrified eye locked to a screen and watching the unfathomable events happening all across the barren world. He wondered if he could feel the Force what it would feel like in this moment.

"One thing's for sure... it works," Alston said in defeat, turning from the crowd to stand by Horst once more. He crossed his arms, resembling his steely self from when he first entered the room. "Now we pray that we never have to use it."

[Rugs]

The clock tick, tick ticked up, second by second. It’d been impossible to ignore in the long, tense moments before the test commence. Now, Alder realized, he’d not looked at it since Project Vanguard stirred to life and let loose awful gift to the lifeless world below. Chills rolled down his back. Lifeless. Abandoned. A perfect testbed for this weapon, where harm would only befall earth and sea and sky.

If a world with nothing but dirt and stone and empty oceans distressed him so, what might happen if the Republic turned this weapon — this horror — against a world home to millions or billions of souls?

“Deploying additional observational drones. Initial results greatly outstrip expectations.” Alder almost laugh. R&D had made a thing that worked too well and it felt like his soul was being dragged to hell. “Estimated impact force exceeds the capabilities of all known planetary shielding systems.”

The Chancellor swallowed. “Then nowhere is safe,” he said, to himself and to no one in particular.

He continued to watch the world on fire, in conflagration lit by his own order that set this test in motion. By his own authorizations that kept the secretive research funded, year after year. Now the fruit was before him, and he rather wish the seed had never been planted.

But what was done was done. There could be closing the devil’s box, or returning the spent shell to Vanguard’s enormous barrel.

“Let us pray, Commander, that our peace with the Empire holds,” he said, hearing Alston’s wish. “Let us pray that should it fail, what follows is not so severe to necessitate this creation.” Alder knew the first words were hollow as soon as they left his tongue. Peace between the Republic and Empire would not last. It could not last, not between two superpowers so diametrically opposed to one another.

He hoped, fervently, that the later prayer might have some hope of an answer.

“I’ve seen all I need to,” he said after another long silence. “General,” he looked to Horst, “join me when you can. We’ve much to discuss, now that we’ve seen this test.” He turned and began to leave, but paused near Alston.

“Commander, it is truly a pleasure to see you again. I hope, next time we meet, it can be under more cheerful circumstances.”

The doors hissed open as Alder left the Fulcrum’s observation deck. A tightness clenched at his chest. Even his wildest expectations didn’t match what he’d just seen. He wondered what was going through the Jedi’s mind, through the Senators, the scientists and military all gathered to watch the might of the Republic, made manifest in a single weapon.

“Yes Horst,” he muttered to himself, “we’ve got a lot to discuss indeed.”

[Fromikeable]

Horst couldn’t quite bring himself to echo the wishes for peace. He knew Alder and Alston well enough to know that they were just that; echoes of a hope long since dashed.

The nail in the coffin floated far in front of them, powering down its coils.

But even then, the echoes made him grimace. Horst had never once suspected that peace with the Empire would be possible since his assignment to the chiefs. It was, in all regards, his job not to; to be one of the people the Republic would turn to when hostilities resumed. When the diplomats came back empty-handed. When galactic courts caused flashpoints. When reports arose that the Sith Order was preparing something to threaten entire worlds, and no one but they knew what it was.

The only way to keep the weight from crushing his spine was to stand up as tall as he could. Even when looking at the Republic’s newest ability to commit unspeakable atrocity.

”I’ll be along in a few, Chancellor.” Brushing his palms against his pant legs, Horst seemed to come around. Finally tearing his eyes from the view screens, they danced out the window toward the weapon itself before coming back to Alston, the eyebrows finally rising a bit. Extending a hand, Horst was beyond even fake smiles by now. Still, his expression softened.

”Appreciate the service as always, Commander. Good to be able to personally count on somebody for a thing like this.” Glancing around, Horst took stock of the room. Jedi whispered with faces of horror and scorn. Generals and admirals huddled with shock and discussion. Politicians varied the most, some devastated, others somehow thrilled.

Squinting, Horst made a mental note of their faces. They’d never get to dictate another second of Vanguard’s fate if he had anything to say about it.

”Still owe you that drink, don’t think I forgot. But it’ll have to be next time.”

[Ysmir]

Although the main event was over, the ramifications of its use carried on and didn't stop. Likely, it wouldn't stop for some time.

The worst part now, Alston figured, was knowing; knowing it had happened, what it could do. He simultaneously felt honored and sickened that the powers-that-be of the Republic High Command felt so confidently in Alston to entrust him with this most heinous of information. And now came the hard part, which was staying silent. Carrying the burden of this secret with him, hopefully forever. Forever. Alston sighed. It was the best case scenario, maybe not for him, but for the Galaxy at large. He could die a happy man knowing that this abomination was never once let loose upon the many worlds in their slice of space. But life didn't always pan out the way you wanted it to.

A distinct yet unfamiliar voice came through the intercom and confirmed the thoughts of everybody standing in that oh-so small room. The device (if it could be called that) exceeded every expectation and projection that their science boys could have possibly cooked up. If ever there had been a more literal, physical example of opening Pandora's box, then this was it. There was no going back.

Alston turned his head to Alder. His words were sincere, and Alston hoped desperately that they were true. He'd spent most of his life fighting for the side of good, but it was starting to become increasingly difficult to discern what good is. So, for the time being, he just nodded toward the Chancellor. "We'll try our best. That's all we can do."

His eyes followed the Chancellor as he hurried from the room. Alston didn't blame him; it seemed like everybody would need some time alone to process what they had just witnessed. The Commander bowed his head to Alder gently, a show of respect. "Likewise, Chancellor. Be safe."

Alston's attention was earned by Horst's gruff voice. He turned to the man, somehow managing to wear a genuine smile despite the events they had just witnessed. Alston took hold of the older man's hand firmly, giving it a few shakes and nodding his head. "You know me, General; I'm always ready to serve. For better, or for worse."

With the sliding doors opened, more of the occupants within the room began to file out into the hallway of the craft, mostly silent save for some low muttering conversation between them. Alston remained in his place at the center of the room, turning away from the doors and looking back out to the expanse of space where a barren world began the process of dying prematurely, systematically reducing itself to rubble. Horst was right; sometimes, this was something you needed to see. A reaffirmation of life, and how quickly it could be snuffed out by the hands of mortals.

Finally, he pulled his eyes away from the viewscreen and gave Horst one last glance. He put out his right hand to clap his superior on the shoulder in a show of camaraderie. "Don't worry, I know you're good for it. Just go make sure the Chancellor is alright. I think he might be taking this harder than any of us." Alston withdrew his hand and nodded with a sympathetic smile, before walking to the doors.

They slid back open and remained that way as he stopped. He turned to look at Horst over his shoulder. "You know how to find me if you need me, General. Don't hesitate."

With that, he marched out into the hallway and to the hangar bay. He'd need to be ready.