"Obsidian." Revan had many connections to this ship. A *Interdictor*-class cruiser, which came into the Republic fleet's possession at the end of the Mandalorian Wars, was, along with Admiral Carth Onasi's "Leviathan," among the first ships of its series. This ship participated in the Battle of Malachor V. Revan also led it into the Unknown Regions in search of the Sith Empire. From the bridge of this ship, he observed the terrifyingly magnificent Star Forge approaching. And it was on the bridge of this very ship that he was struck down by a treacherous attack from his friend and apprentice.
However, by the irony of the Force, instead of his death, Revan met love and his future wife, though at that moment they were enemies.
And now, approaching the *Obsidian*, which hung in orbit around an unnamed planet just two parsecs from Mandalore, Revan experienced conflicting emotions. The warm feeling of meeting an "old friend," fueled by nostalgia, battled with the cold and anger that memories of the last days of commanding this ship and Malak's betrayal evoked. Moreover, the cruiser was permeated with the Dark Side, which only intensified the negative feelings, forcing Revan to pay more attention to his sensations, filtering out the delusions.
Even before reaching the *Obsidian*, its former captain felt something akin to vibrations in the Force, caused by the ship's rich history and its frequent encounters with the Force-sensitive. A similar feeling arose in places where ancient Jedi or Sith were buried. For example, on Korriban...
His thoughts involuntarily drifted to the dead planet with its many tombs of powerful Dark Side adepts, many of whom could not fully leave this world and reunite with the Force. Revan had even personally encountered several ghosts, who, most often, were not distinguished by their sanity or good nature. Such encounters often ended in battles with disembodied spirits, whose incorporeality did not prevent them from using all their might against the former Jedi.
"...Revan..." a barely audible whisper penetrated his consciousness.
The former Jedi shook his head, dispelling the unwanted thoughts and focusing on his surroundings.
"Lord Revan," Risa Farr said, who had been silently sitting in the pilot's seat until this moment.
"You shouldn't call me that name," the former Jedi warned.
"But it is your essence!" the Mandalorian exclaimed... and, likely, a Sith?
Revan had not yet formed a definitive opinion about his interlocutor. She commanded his ship and tried in many ways to imitate the image that remained in history after the destruction of the Star Forge. At the same time, Farr had long hidden in Duchess Kryze's retinue, arousing no suspicion, and in the end, she even saved Satine from certain death. This old story with Tira and her mentor added more questions. Risa Farr's motives remained a mystery. Yes, she literally burned with the desire to serve... which was quite clearly felt in the Force. Only, someone who had trained with a Sith would not so openly display their emotions. And even less so crave to serve. This contradicted the teachings of the Sith, who should strive for power and might, desiring to gain metaphorical freedom. Freedom from conventions, laws, and their own limitations, including the inevitable oppression of a mentor. And there was no doubt that a Sith had trained the girl.
Why might she need a resurrected Sith Lord? This question demanded an answer, but Revan was willing to wait for it until the threat to Mandalore disappeared.
"And yet. I would prefer not to reveal my name to everyone and anyone, at least for now," Revan said, urging her to follow his instructions.
Farr disagreed with this request-order, but did not object. And her compliance worried Revan. It would have been better if she had shown hostility.
Only a fanatic who has become disillusioned with their idol can be more dangerous than a fanatic. And Revan, although he resembled his former self, could not guarantee that he met the expectations of a Sith disciple. Especially if her ideas about her idol were limited to the teachings of the Revanchist cult, whose followers considered him the true Emperor.
"Lo... Lord... Vaner... Master Shan..." Risa tried to find a suitable address, but with each new option, she winced more and more.
"You can call me Vaner or Van, if you wish. Both names have already sounded in the galaxy since my return, and both are rightfully mine," Revan offered, noticing Farr's hesitation.
"That would be... disrespectful, my lord..."
"You should not call me my lord, especially in front of strangers, absolutely not," the former Sith interrupted his interlocutor.
"I don't need a second HK," he thought a moment later.
The Mandalorian was not delighted by Revan's statement. However, she did not show it. Only a slight shadow of irritation flashed across her face.
"I will try... Vaner," Risa finally said, accepting Revan's terms.
"Excellent," he nodded in response.
And the next moment, the ancient Lord froze. Risa's ship circled the planet, and the local star illuminated the silhouette of the *Interdictor* in high orbit.
During his last encounter with his old ship, Revan didn't have the opportunity to examine it in detail. There was little time.
Now, the former Sith could focus on the *Obsidian* while Farr guided their small vessel towards Revan's former Imperial flagship.
And there was something to see. Time had not spared the cruiser, nor had its enemies. The first thing that caught his eye was the disfigured starboard side. A series of giant breaches, exposing several decks at once, left no doubt that the ship was far more damaged than its former owner had calculated, and there was no atmosphere along the entire starboard side. What added to the sadness was the absence of weapons on the damaged side. This meant that the number of turbolaser batteries and rapid-fire cannons had been reduced by almost half. The bridge was in even worse condition. The box of transparisteel and durasteel had not withstood the blow from the turbolaser cannons of a twin cruiser, allowing the control room to be blown to pieces. And Revan was there at the moment of the attack. The memories of the blow itself were vague and fragmented, but looking at the consequences of that attack, one could imagine what had happened... and be surprised how Revan and Bastila had managed to survive at all.
It seemed no one had bothered to repair the bridge after the emergency landing of the crippled ship. The bent hull plates and partially deformed compartments of the lower decks, visible even from a distance, testified to the landing itself. The *Interdictor*'s "claw," consisting of two hulls separated at the front, was almost closed. There was no hope that the three torpedo tubes located under the keel of the cruiser's upper hull had survived. The overall condition of the hull was deplorable. Not a trace of paint remained on the armor elements. It had been replaced by corrosion and scorch marks.
It gave the impression that the ship had lain on the surface of that nameless planet for several thousand years and, thanks to the genius of Old Republic shipbuilders and the durability of durasteel, had not crumbled into rusty dust.
However, it could not be said that nothing had been done to the cruiser at all. Whoever had brought it back into space had to carry out some repairs. Against the backdrop of the overall "sootiness" of the hull, areas of regular geometric shape with perfectly clean plating stood out. Some of the breaches had been patched. And the port side pleased the eye with its functional weapon batteries. The two ion cannons, located near the bridge itself, despite Revan's fears, had survived Malak's attack.
"Well, half a cruiser is better than none at all," Revan mused, his eyes fixed on the *Obsidian*.
"The ship is at your disposal, Lo... Vaner," Risa immediately assured him.
Too quickly. Too quickly she obeyed, too quickly she offered the ship. Revan didn't like it, but the Force, to the former Jedi's surprise, did not warn him of danger. Farr seemed truly... excessively infatuated with Revan. Or perhaps it was all a subtle game by a powerful Force adept capable of even clouding her opponent's foresight. Revan couldn't say which was worse.
Risa Farr, meanwhile, guided the transport into one of the small auxiliary hangars, as the main flight deck, judging by the cruiser's external condition, was damaged.
To Revan's surprise, the hangar was not empty. Despite its small size, in previous times, such a compartment could accommodate a dozen small aircraft or a couple of transports like the *Eagle*. Now, six fighters of models familiar to the former Jedi rested in the hangar, secured on retaining pylons vertically in the travel position. Considering the possibility of small ships on board the *Interdictor*, Revan imagined neat rows of Imperial Mk.1 fighters, equipped with a Rakatan prototype twin ion engine and manufactured at the Star Forge. Yes, the fighters were fragile, as if made of paper. That's why Revan didn't expect even a single functional fighter on board.
Reality, however, turned out to be much more... acceptable. After all, on the pylons, the genuine Republic Z-11 *Liberator*, manufactured by Rendili StarDrive, awaited combat sorties. Rendili StarDrive was the main contractor for the Old Republic's military fleet and was renowned for the quality of its products. Even after four thousand years, the *Liberator*'s laser cannons and strike missiles could cause a lot of trouble for enemy fighters and even light corvettes. At least, that's what the analysis of available HoloNet information on combat ships produced in the Galactic Republic suggested.
Once again, Revan suppressed his indignation about the sharp slowdown in progress in shipbuilding and the development of defense and armament systems. Despite the fact that large-scale conflicts, in which entire fleets clashed, had occurred in the galaxy more than once since the Old Republic, the technologies of "new" times had not advanced much. Or was it all due to the "new course towards peaceful life" after Ruusan? Promising developments were forgotten, technologies were lost, and out of the entire variety of military equipment, only rare, and not the best, samples survived, which were selected for the Judicial Forces and the small local armies of some planets.
It was sad. However, at the same time, it was to Revan's advantage in the current situation. The *Interdictor*, like the *Liberators*, was developed precisely as combat ships intended for heavy battles in prolonged campaigns and far from supply lines. Revan couldn't say the same about the *Lucrehulk*-class ships and other semi-pirate scum that now surrounded Mandalore.
"Welcome to the *Obsidian*, Lo... Vaner," Risa said, still "stumbling" over the name.
Revan nodded in response and headed towards the exit from the ship.
As soon as he stepped onto the hangar deck, a door opened at the far end of the room, letting in a pair of stormtrooper droids. Or rather, externally, they looked almost exactly like Imperial stormtroopers, but Revan knew that droids were hidden beneath the armor.
At the appearance of the stormtroopers, the former Jedi shifted slightly closer to the pylons with the *Liberators* and placed his hand on the hilt of his lightsaber. The droids' intentions could not be read in the Force, as they were not alive, and Revan's foresight seemed to malfunction near Farr for some reason. And the former Sith did not want to check if this strangeness would affect him in combat, so it was better to be prepared for an escalation of the situation at any moment.
"BK-201, BK-204, this is Vaner Shan. From this moment on, he commands the ship. His orders have the same priority as mine. Enter this information into the general network," Farr declared in a commanding tone.
Well, her head wasn't as bad as Revan feared. At least she had left herself a loophole in the priority of orders. If she had assigned Revan the highest priority, nothing would have stopped the former Sith from seizing the ship and throwing such a foolish and dangerous person overboard. Foolishness combined with Sith knowledge, in Revan's opinion, was one of the most terrible combinations. There was no place for fools, especially dangerous ones, near Revan.
The droids, meanwhile, blinked their optics a couple of times, which was noticeable even through their helmet visors.
"In the past, the ship's crew consisted of over five thousand people. And it could carry another three and a half thousand assault troops. What about now?" Revan asked Risa.
"Alas, only the minimum number necessary for the correct operation of the ship's systems. Two hundred droids. There are no living beings on board, except for us," Farr replied.
"Two hundred droids? Where did so many come from?" Revan managed to hide his surprise quite well.
"Almost half were obtained with the cruiser. They are from the Star Forge, judging by the absence of any markings. Another twenty were custom-built at 'Kibot Galaxy' about three hundred years ago by the previous owner of the ship. It was on these that Sith armor could be fitted, as the dimensions matched. The remaining ones are Zakuul Empire stormtrooper droids. My mentor gave them to me after I passed his final trial and proved worthy of wearing the armor of the last of the Revanchists," Risa said the last words with clear enthusiasm.
"And who is your mentor?" Revan decided to ask directly.
It had to be someone with extensive knowledge of the Old Republic's history, and of Vitiate's Empire. Experienced, so to speak, "old school." And with access to Zakuul Empire technology. In the Temple Archives, Revan found only a few brief notes on the period of conflict with the Zakuul Empire, despite it being a galactic-scale war. Someone really didn't want those events to be remembered. Considering that, according to Meetra and Scourge, Zakuul was another creation of Vitiate, in whose conflict both the Sith and the Republic suffered crushing defeat, the list of those who wished to cover their tracks became prohibitively long.
Speaking of Scourge... This immortal Sith fit the description of Risa Farr's mentor. And, if one recalled the Mandalorian's combat style, there were traits characteristic of Scourge's power style. Perhaps that's why Farr's Juyo was slightly clumsy and sweeping, as if intended for larger swordsmen and much heavier blows.
"My mentor asked me to keep his name a secret," Risa refused to answer, trying to soften her sharp reply with a polite nod.
"Then, I'll try to describe him, alright?" Revan grinned.
Farr nodded with interest, but warily. It seemed she didn't like the prospect of revealing her mentor, but the desire to know her "idol's" thought process outweighed her loyalty to her teacher. Moreover, the concept of "loyalty" among Sith was extremely relative. And Revan had no doubt that Scourge had trained the girl in accordance with all traditions, including backroom intrigues and attempts to overthrow the mentor.
"He is a Sith. And an orthodox Sith, who has lived for many years. Perhaps as ancient as I am. Your combat style screams it. Believe me, I can distinguish the sequences of blows characteristic of the Sith lightsaber fencing school. Although I am still far from Tulak Hord's level, according to my fencing instructors, I 'know a thing or two.' And your movements are familiar to me, albeit vaguely. You have worked hard on your own style, mixing the knowledge your mentor gave you with what you have managed to learn about my abilities and techniques," Revan began to lay out his guesses.
The Jedi's memory involuntarily recalled the lessons of Kreia and Arren Kae. Both mentors could sometimes spend hours dissecting every movement, every mistake, and every thought, drilling knowledge into their student's head even against their will. Revan loved their lessons. Both were truly wise Masters of the Order, who had deeply understood the Force... albeit with somewhat "unconventional" outcomes and conclusions. But Revan was always happy to listen to their point of view, even if it didn't coincide with his own.
Risa now resembled a young Padawan who had broken into a grandmaster's private lecture. She hadn't put on a mask, so Revan could see the expression on her face in minute detail. However, the delight that literally gushed from Farr, the former Sith would have felt even at the other end of the galaxy.
"So, from all of the above, I can make a fairly accurate guess about the identity of the one who taught you. However, if you do not wish to reveal his name, I will not voice my guess," Revan concluded his monologue.
"I will be grateful to you, my lord," Risa bowed deeply.
The former Sith nodded.
"Well, good. Then, in return, answer me a question."
"Which one, Lord Revan?"
The ancient Jedi shook his head, indicating that the returned address did not suit him.
"I meant, Vaner. What question did you want to ask?" Farr corrected herself.
"Why did you offer to help me? Note, not Duchess Satine, not the Death Watch, or all of Mandalore. You offered to help me specifically. You sought me out. You almost gave yourself away in the Palace when you first saw me with Kryze. I managed to catch a response in the Force, but you managed to hide your presence again," the former Jedi said, watching his interlocutor's reaction as he asked the question.
Risa nodded, confirming Revan's words.
"I want to serve you with all my heart and soul. All my life, from the very moment I stumbled upon your holocron, I dreamed of such an opportunity."
"Holocron?" Revan clarified.
"Yes. On Rekkiad, at the top of one of the twin spires, where the Mask of Mandalore was supposedly hidden."
Revan vaguely remembered that he had indeed left a holocron after hiding the mask in the tomb of an ancient Sith. Back then, after revealing the secret of the Sith Empire's existence and their influence on Mandalore the Ultimate, Revan was filled with emotions and anxious thoughts. He understood that he had to go to the Unknown Regions and find the lurking enemy before he made his next move. But it was a dangerous journey from which Revan might not return. Therefore, he decided to leave a holocron in which he would lay out his story and thoughts about the Empire. He also included his assessment of the Republic as a state and a military power. Both assessments, by the way, were not comforting.
And it seemed that the girl who found this recording... was impressed, and due to subconscious manipulations with the Force by a young Force-sensitive, it only intensified, solidifying with attachment, bordering on obsession.
"Did Risa get to Rekkiad before or after Scourge found her?" Revan thought.
"My mentor helped me become stronger and told me about his experience... He helped me become like you," Risa continued.
"This is more than just a desire to serve, which is uncharacteristic of Sith. You wear armor almost identical to mine and command my ship. Even for someone who considers himself the last of the Revanchists, this is too much. You're trying to become me. Why?"
"I... I wanted to be with you! Always by your side! But it was impossible, and so I decided to become... I decided to take the title of the last of the Revanchists and..." the girl couldn't find the words, "And then I learned about the prophecy! That you would return! It was said in the notes of Admiral Carth Onasi and the Jedi Order Master Satele Shan! And... and my mentor confirmed it! He was also waiting for your return!"
"So, it's just an attachment to my image from the holocron?"
"No! I... I feel that my place is by your side! I must be by your side! I will serve faithfully and carry out any order! Allow me to serve!" Risa Farr fell to her knees and bowed her head before Revan, extending the hilt of her lightsaber to him.
The ancient Jedi himself frowned and tried to understand what was going on in the Mandalorian's head. The Force can twist the mind quite well. And under the influence of a holocron created under strong emotions, even more so. Obviously, Risa found it as a child, untrained and unprepared for what awaited her. It's like falling to the Dark Side, when a Force-sensitive allows the Force not just to flow through them, but to carry them away, influence their mind, change their way of thinking, and fixate on a certain emotion and idea. This is difficult to resist even for an experienced Force-sensitive. What can be said about a child. That's why Revan first taught Anakin meditation and how to shield his consciousness from external interference.
The only comforting thing in the current situation was that Revan felt no threat from Risa. There was not even a hint of a desire to harm in her consciousness. What Farr felt could be called love, but it had too crazy a shade. "Passion bordering on madness" would be a more accurate definition. This could become a problem in the future. Especially if Risa received no reciprocation from the object of her desire, which Revan currently was. But, at the moment, it was more important to help Mandalore. Risa Farr's condition could be dealt with later. For now...
Revan took the lightsaber from the Mandalorian's hands, ignited it, and with a ceremonial movement, swept it over Farr's bowed head, barely touching her shoulders with the blade.
"I accept your oath of allegiance and take you into service, Risa Farr," Revan said.
"Please, give me a name!" the Mandalorian said with a hint of pleading in her trembling voice.
Revan expected such a request. Naming was a Sith tradition, marking the adept's renunciation of their past life and acceptance of the mentor's teachings. It was strange that Scourge hadn't performed the ceremony. Or was it not him after all?
However, it doesn't matter. A new name should reflect the essence of the gifted and was usually chosen either by the adept themselves or by the mentor. Now, Risa clearly wanted Revan to choose a new name for her. Perhaps... that would be the right way.
"From this moment until my last breath, you will be my faithful follower. My will is your law. My strength is your shield. Rise, acolyte Sekuta."
The name perfectly suited this girl. In the old dialect of Korriban, it meant "Follower." And it seemed Risa Farr herself was also pleased with the choice.
As soon as Revan uttered the Mandalorian's new name, Risa exhaled and relaxed, feeling a wave of warmth pass through her body, washing away her anxieties. Her thoughts regained clarity, bringing her mind, shaken by the encounter with Revan, back into order.
Sekuta took back her sword and stood up.
Revan noted that the girl had stopped gushing with delight and desire, almost disappearing into the Force again. But the former Jedi clearly felt the connection that had formed. Weak, but distinct.
"Thank you for the honor, my lord," Farr bowed.
"The agreement about the name is still in effect. Call me Vaner. And it's better to use 'you,' otherwise too many questions will arise."
"As you command."
Revan shook his head. Some habits are hard to break.
"It wasn't too solemn. The hangar is not the place where such a ritual should be performed. But what's done is done."
Risa nodded.
"The bridge is destroyed. Is control being maintained from the backup control point?" the former Jedi clarified.
"Yes."
"Lead the way."
***
The blockade of Mandalore was the second operation in which Trade Federation ships were to blockade the orbit of a populated planet. The "Lucrehulk-class" were not full-fledged combat ships. Their purpose was to transport goods and protect cargo from pirates. However, thanks to their size and powerful propulsion system, in direct combat, they could compete with Judicial Forces cruisers. And as part of a squadron, they became a decent combat unit. So, for blockading a planet that did not possess its own fleet, the "Lucrehulks" were more than enough.
During the previous operation on Naboo, the Federation ships encountered no resistance. As a result, only one ship remained in orbit, converted into a droid control station. This became a fatal mistake. It was enough for one lucky pilot to destroy the huge ship along with its entire crew.
This time, the Trade Federation was not going to repeat its blunder. Therefore, the orbit of Mandalore was guarded by five "Lucrehulks" and a dozen and a half "Black Sun" corvettes. It was impossible for the ravaged Mandalore, which had lost most of its military potential, to break such a "cap" without the involvement of the Judicial Forces fleet. And so, the Neimoidian officers were calm.
Even when the Mandalorian ships rose from the planet's surface. Just a little over a dozen. Fighters and transports – a joke. No threat... the commanders thought.
They thought so right up until one of the seemingly harmless transports shot down a wing of vultures approaching it and fired a proton torpedo at the nearest Lucrehulk, instantly depleting the Federation ship's shields by almost half.
Immediately, the vulture droids were scrambled, flying out towards the Mandalorians like a swarm. But they were a little late. The concentrated fire of the transports and fighters, reinforced by another torpedo salvo, managed to bring down the shields of one of the "Lucrehulks."
The Federation fleet began to move, reconfiguring to repel the threat, while simultaneously raining laser fire on the Mandalorians. Not all of them managed to maneuver under such dense fire, which led to the loss of two small transports. Swarms of vultures descended on the remaining ships and began to tear at their shields, not even bothering to get out from under the allies' fire. The droids had no instinct for self-preservation, and the Federation didn't regret the mechanical dummies, which could be quickly purchased from their own factories at a ridiculous price. The third torpedo from a particularly maneuverable red transport missed its target, intercepted by one of the suicide vultures. However, the shockwave from the detonating proton warhead still reached the damaged "Lucrehulk," causing a series of secondary explosions under the hull.
But despite the element of surprise and surprises like heavy armament, things were going very badly for the planet's defenders. Two more ships were lost under Federation fire. The vultures were becoming more and more numerous. And even the skill of the pilots and gunners no longer saved the Mandalorians from the wrath of the Neimoidians and their droids. At this rate, the meager fleet of Mandalore's defenders would be destroyed in a matter of minutes.
However, in the next moment, the already damaged "Lucrehulk" exploded and fell apart, distracting the Neimoidian commanders. They clearly didn't expect such a turn of events! And even less did they expect a cruiser to suddenly jump out of hyperspace!
The Federation had never encountered ships like this before! The predatory silhouette, despite visible damage, rapidly broke into the formation of the "Lucrehulks," opening a barrage of fire from its turbolaser cannons, instantly depleting the shields of another ship from the Neimoidian squadron.
A real battle began!
***
"Boarding rights! Turn the ship with the undamaged side to the enemy!" Revan ordered, gripping the edges of the holoprojector table.
Due to the damage to the bridge, he had to command from the backup control point on the sixth deck, where the cruiser's control consoles were duplicated. He had to rely solely on sensor data and the holoprojector, which, however, did not significantly hinder the experienced commander.
Ship control, as well as weapons, was handled by droids, who impeccably followed Revan's commands. "Obsidian" was not in the best condition, but it should be enough for a short fight. Especially since his opponents this time were not "Hammerheads" or "Centurions," but pathetic overgrown trucks.
"Shield power is dropping. Multiple attacks from enemy small ships registered," reported one of the droids.
"Rotate along the longitudinal axis by ninety degrees. Go lower and pass under their belly. Laser batteries two and four fire at enemy strike craft. Turbolaser cannons and remaining batteries concentrate fire on target three. Prepare the ion cannon and torpedo launchers," Revan highlighted another "Lucrehulk" on the map.
The cruiser shook several times.
"Minor hull damage on the port side. Shields at sixty percent. Reactor output one hundred percent," reported another droid.
"Pilot droids have reported readiness for sortie," added Risa Farr.
"Launch after the first torpedo salvo," ordered the former Republic fleet admiral.
"Incoming message from the ship 'Dawn Eagle'," reported the droid responsible for communications.
"Open communication channel."
"Channel open."
"Eagle, what's the situation?" Revan asked, not looking away from the tactical map.
"Why did it take so long?!" Tira Nomad roared in response.
"Irritated remark: Meat sacks were not given the floor. Order: Sit!" HK-47's synthesized voice interrupted the Mandalorian.
"HK?"
"Situation report: Four ships lost and, consequently, ten crew members. The surprise attack, as you calculated, provoked the Trade Federation fleet to change formation, opening the hyperspace transition sector on the shadowed side. Through joint efforts, we managed to breach the shields of one of the 'Lucrehulks' and inflict moderate damage with a torpedo attack. Unfortunately, the torpedo was intercepted, which reduced the damage dealt and the number of casualties among the meat sacks."
"Current situation: Satisfactory. Remaining ships in formation are reconfiguring to engage enemy strike craft. With regret: shooting these buckets of bolts is not as entertaining as meat sacks. We leave the large ships to 'Obsidian'."
"Excellent work. Stay away from our weapons and firing sectors."
"Joyfully: Understood, Master!"
"'Obsidian,' end communication."
Once again on the cruiser's command deck, Revan felt an emotional uplift. An almost forgotten feeling. The power of the cruiser, and once a whole fleet, subject to his will. A short command, and the deadly machine was ready to tear apart any enemy. The fleet was the very power that could grant dominion over the entire galaxy. Revan remembered this well, and now felt it again, clearly. And the Force subtly hinted that acquiring his own fleet was simply necessary.
But that later. Now – battle!
"Ion cannons target two, fire. Then torpedo launchers three through seven, fire. Launch fighters. We will crush them!"