The Giant Corporations that Started in Night City

Chapter 352: The Executor-Class Star Dreadnought! The Archvillain Darth Vader!

David hesitated for a moment. Only after consulting the Base headquarters and receiving Li Ang 's approval did he finally agree.

Whether it was the Death Star's blueprints or the data regarding the Starkiller Base, both were considered top-secret intel by the Universal Megacorp. Information of this level, under normal circumstances, should never be shared with outside factions.

However, Li Ang agreed to share it mainly because the Rebel Alliance, with their current manpower and industrial capacity, couldn't possibly construct a Death Star or a Starkiller Base.

It simply wasn't something they were capable of even attempting.

The only value the Death Star plans held for the Rebels was in figuring out how to use proton torpedoes to blow it up.

So even if the data fell into their hands, it wouldn't matter—if anything, sharing it could present an opportunity for the Megacorp to display goodwill and pave the way for future cooperation.

"Do as Paul instructed."

"Understood!"

The crew member handling the data immediately transmitted the Death Star blueprints to the Rebel Alliance's Raddus, and informed their personnel to evacuate the battlefield as quickly as possible.

Back aboard the Raddus, the communications officer, upon receiving the data, excitedly turned to Admiral Raddus and reported:

"Admiral, we've got the Death Star plans! But we have to get out of Scarif, now—"

Before he could finish, the massive Death Star had already settled into a stable position above Scarif's outer orbit.

Its pale gray metallic sphere gleamed with an unsettling sheen—a colossal battle station floating in space.

In this cramped battlefield, cluttered with debris from fighters and wrecked starships, the Death Star and the Relic stood like dueling mechanical titans.

These two massive war machines, each spanning over a hundred kilometers, represented the first clash between two mighty civilizations. Yet, Li Ang 's orders were absolute—Universal Megacorp forces had to retreat and avoid direct confrontation!

As Admiral Raddus gazed at the 160-kilometer-wide Death Star, he swallowed hard. In the entire galaxy, only the Galactic Empire had the resources to construct something so immense.

"That bastard Palpatine... How the hell did he build something like this?!"

Besides the planet-destroying superlaser, the Death Star was lined with thousands of surface turrets, over ten thousand turbolasers, and hundreds of tractor beam projectors.

It wasn't just a planet killer. Against capital ships, it wielded overwhelming destructive force.

To the Rebel Alliance, the arrival of the Death Star was nothing short of a death sentence. Facing it head-on was suicidal.

Even with the Death Star plans in hand, the Rebels still needed time to study them, find vulnerabilities, and develop a tactical response.

Charging in now would only ensure their own annihilation. Even if they somehow survived the superlaser, they wouldn't escape the combined volley of the turret arrays. Fleeing was their best and only option.

Meanwhile, Universal Megacorp's ground forces and Transformer squads were returning to their carriers, preparing for emergency extraction per Li Ang orders.

Surprisingly, the Death Star didn't immediately open fire on either the Rebel fleet or the Megacorp forces after arriving at the battlefield.

Instead, under the orders of Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin, the Death Star locked into position above Scarif's surface.

Tarkin's goal was crystal clear—obliterate Scarif to prevent any further leaks of Imperial secrets or Death Star data.

At the Death Star's central control station, Tarkin stood tall and gave the command to the crew below: "Target the Scarif base. Confirm charge status. Prepare to fire."

Though many Imperial stormtroopers and officers were still on the planet's surface, Tarkin cared little for the lives of expendable personnel.

For the sake of the Empire's greater good, they would have to die under the Death Star's wrath.

"Sir, what about the enemy fleet? Are we just letting them go?" asked Darth Rigg, an Imperial Inquisitor.

After witnessing the complete fall of the Scarif Citadel, Darth Rigg had fled the scene aboard a shuttle. En route, he encountered the arriving Death Star and came aboard.

Tarkin nonchalantly waved him off. "No need to worry. Lord Vader will deal with them."

The "Lord Vader" he referred to was none other than Darth Vader.

His real name was Anakin, the Chosen One—once a gifted Jedi Knight, discovered and mentored by Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, who believed Anakin was the one destined to bring balance to the Force.

Such praise, combined with Anakin's exceptional talent, had placed him on track to become the Jedi Order's greatest warrior.

But the Jedi Council, wary of his abilities, increasingly restricted his growth. Disillusioned with their dogmatic ways, Anakin grew resentful.

What frustrated him even more was how the Jedi were shackled by endless rules. Many Force abilities were outright forbidden.

These restrictions largely stemmed from the Senate, which feared the return of powerful Force users who might repeat the "Force hybridization" practices of the old era.

So they imposed countless constraints on Jedi Force usage.

For a Force prodigy like Anakin, staying in the Order felt like torture.

The Council's mistrust barred his advancement. The rigid dogma stunted his growth.

Worse, he was plagued by nightmares—visions of his wife dying during childbirth—reflecting his fear of being too weak to protect his loved ones.

At this vulnerable moment, Emperor Palpatine—scheming to replace the Republic—extended his hand.

With just two promises, Palpatine won Anakin over, convincing him to take the name Darth Vader and serve the Galactic Empire loyally.

The first promise: a top-tier official rank with boundless prospects. He would be made a Dark Lord of the Sith, standing equal to Palpatine himself.

Far more appealing than being a mere Jedi Council member.

The second promise: unrestricted Force development.

Whether Force hybrids or forbidden techniques—it was all allowed. If Anakin wanted to handcraft a son with pure Force energy, no one would stop him.

Palpatine's message was clear: follow me, and you'll have power, prestige, and freedom.

To Anakin, this wasn't a demonic temptation—it was salvation.

Thus, Anakin became Darth Vader, officially joining the Empire.

And when it came to purging the Jedi, who better to do the job than one of their own?

Vader's Jedi-hunting was merciless. Anyone who had ever crossed him—be it Jedi or senator—was cut down without exception.

He even leveled Jedha City, proving himself the Empire's strongest wielder of the dark side.

"I see..." Darth Rigg fell silent. With Lord Vader on the job, there was no need for concern.

No matter how powerful that mysterious off-worlder was, he could never hope to defeat Vader.

Standing at the command station, Tarkin watched Scarif with his hands clasped behind his back, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

His choice to prioritize Scarif over chasing the Rebel or Megacorp fleets had a hidden motive—he wanted to eliminate his rival, Orson Krennic.

Krennic, chief architect of the Death Star, stood to rise in status thanks to the station's success. Tarkin couldn't allow that.

With Krennic's fate uncertain, Tarkin had come in person to ensure his "dear colleague" was destroyed along with Scarif.

He needed Krennic erased—along with the entire planet.

At Tarkin's order, the Death Star's superlaser activated. A cataclysmic green beam burst forth, piercing Scarif's atmosphere and striking the ocean surface.

From orbit, Tarkin watched a tiny white point expand rapidly into a glowing circle, then into a massive whirlpool.

Towering waves erupted. Stormtroopers who hadn't evacuated stared up in horror as the sea inverted above them.

Moments later, the ground shattered, the core collapsed, and Scarif met the same fate as Jedha—annihilated, gone without a trace.

On the Raddus, Admiral Raddus and the other Rebels quietly gave thanks.

If that blast had hit their ship, they'd have been vaporized in an instant—likely taking the dreadnought with them.

Back at Myriad realm Base headquarters, Jack Wells shook his head and clicked his tongue.

"Tarkin's a ruthless old bastard. Blew up beautiful Scarif just like that. I was hoping to vacation there once the war was over."

"What a waste."

Scarif's natural beauty made it an ideal candidate for a galactic resort. Now, it would soon be nothing more than scattered rubble.

At the command console, Li Ang remained stoic.

He understood Tarkin's motive—it wasn't about strategy, but self-preservation.

And this was the true face of the Empire: a faction rotting from within, plagued by self-serving bureaucrats like Tarkin and Palpatine.

With such shortsighted leadership, it was no wonder the mighty Empire crumbled in just a few short years.

To Tarkin, the blame for the stolen Death Star plans would fall squarely on Orson. Even if he failed to stop the rebels, at worst, he'd be accused of insufficient support.

Now that his rival Orson was out of the picture, Tarkin's own seat of power would remain secure for the foreseeable future.

Meanwhile, after witnessing the destructive power of the Death Star's superlaser, the Rebel Alliance fleet immediately broke contact with the remaining Imperial starfighters and began a full-scale retreat from Scarif's orbit.

Most of the Universal Megacorp's fleet formations also initiated hyperspace jumps, quickly escaping the Scarif system.

But just then, the Empire's Executor-class Super Star Destroyer arrived at the battle over Scarif.

This behemoth was more than ten times the length of a standard Imperial Star Destroyer, stretching an astonishing 19 kilometers from bow to stern.

While it maintained the classic dagger-shaped hull design, nearly every system onboard was a qualitative leap beyond standard destroyers.

Its sleek, arrowhead-shaped hull featured a vast city-like central island lined with evenly spaced gun batteries.

At the rear of the island stood a trapezoidal command tower, orchestrating combat operations across the entire vessel.

Thirteen massive engines blazed red in the vacuum of space, propelling this leviathan—a vessel that could rival even the Megacorp's Wanderer-class dreadnought.

This was the Galactic Empire's true flagship—its most powerful ship short of the Death Star itself. In sheer presence, even the Wanderer couldn't quite outshine it.

And commanding this monster of steel and fire… was none other than Darth Vader, the most infamous villain in the Star Wars universe!

Clad in his black cybernetic armor, Vader stood silently at the Executor's command bridge, issuing orders to pursue and eliminate the intruders.

"Good… our Lord Vader wasted no time."

Tarkin finally smiled with satisfaction as he saw Vader take command. This was precisely why he hadn't used the Death Star to intercept the fleeing Rebel fleet—once Vader arrived, everything else could be left to him.

The sudden appearance of the Executor immediately threw the still-retreating Wanderer and the Rebel fleet into a deadly pincer trap.

Most of the Megacorp fleet was stationed at the outer rim of the system. When they received the retreat order, they could jump away quickly.

Even the flagship had reached the system's edge and would soon safely exit.

Only the Wanderer, at the vanguard, was caught between the space-fortress-like Death Star ahead and the Executor cutting off its retreat from behind.

If no escape was made soon, both Megatron and Admiral Raddus would be doomed.

"Heh… those rebels still think they can jump to hyperspace? Not a chance! With the Executor in their path, charging through means death."

Tarkin grinned smugly. Not only was he about to receive credit for wiping out rebels, he'd also neatly eliminated a rival. A perfect two-birds-one-stone maneuver.

"Damn it... Megatron might not make it."

Aboard the flagship, David frowned deeply, quickly turning over possibilities in his mind.

Given the Executor's overwhelming firepower, even the Wanderer's energy shield wouldn't hold for long under sustained bombardment.

Worse still, the Death Star's superlaser was looming at the front. If the Empire successfully closed the pincer, Megatron was as good as dead.

To intervene now would mean the would have to attack either the Executor or the Death Star—actions that would derail Li Ang entire strategic plan.

It was a terrible dilemma.

Small starfighters and escort ships might still slip through the gaps; the Executor wouldn't waste its time chasing such stragglers.

But the Wanderer and the Raddus, massive capital ships, would never be allowed to escape—Vader's arrival was clearly meant to intercept them.

Realizing the stakes, Paul stepped forward and spoke up:

"Captain, let me draw their fire. You dispatch strike craft to escort the Wanderer into hyperspace!"

"And what exactly are you planning?"

David turned to look at Paul, surprised by his volunteerism at such a critical moment.

"I'll find a way to lure the Executor away and create an opening for the Wanderer and the Raddus to escape. I'm their primary target!"

Paul spoke with unwavering resolve. Right now, only he could grab the Empire's attention long enough to give Megatron and Admiral Raddus a shot at survival.

David hesitated for a few seconds, then nodded. "Go."

There were no better options. Universal Megacorp wouldn't sit idly by and let one of their top assets—and hundreds of Astartes warriors—die just to protect some vague strategic goal.

"Yes, sir!"

With David's approval, Paul sprinted out of the command center, boarded his transforming starfighter in the flagship's hangar, and launched straight into the battle.

Soon, Paul's presence was detected by Imperial forces.

The moment Darth Rigg saw him, he shouted urgently to Vader:

"Lord Vader, it's him—!"

"He's the Jedi we saw on Jedha, and the one who stole the Scarif database!"

In his panic, Rigg conveniently forgot that Paul wasn't even a Jedi. He just wanted this guy caught and interrogated—badly.

"Is that so?"

As expected, Vader was intrigued. He, too, had once been a Jedi—and Anyone claiming to be one still sparked his curiosity.

If Paul truly was a Jedi, Vader needed to assess their old ties to decide whether to destroy him… or offer something else.

TIE Fighters surged toward Paul, but these cheap fighters were no match for him.

Paul piloted his transforming ship with deadly precision, tearing through the dogfighters with ease and bursting into the heart of the space battlefield.

Seeing his flight skill and lightning reflexes, Vader grew even more certain: this was no ordinary Force user.

If Paul truly had no personal history with him, Vader might even consider pulling him into the dark side.

After all, the title of Sith Lord wasn't exclusive. The Sith stage was wide open—if you were strong enough, you were welcome.

Now, as Paul sped toward the Executor, the ship began to shift course, closing in as well.

On the Raddus, Admiral Raddus could only stare in despair.

Paul, that bastard, was using the Rebel fleet as bait to cover his own team's escape.

Sure enough, with the Executor drawn away, the Wanderer slipped through the gap and jumped into hyperspace with the rest of the Megacorp fleet.

Moments later, Paul landed his ship in the hangar bay of the heavily damaged Raddus.

No one was happy about it—most would've gladly shoved him out the airlock—but with the Empire bearing down, they had no better options.

Now absorbing the full brunt of the Executor's wrath, the Raddus couldn't last much longer.

The moment the Executor came into firing range, 5,000 heavy turbolasers and ion cannons lit up simultaneously, unleashing a torrent of green firepower.

The rain of laser fire was like a hurricane. Rebel escort ships vaporized almost instantly.

The Raddus was struck repeatedly—systems failed, warning lights flashed red across every deck, and the outer hull looked like a cratered moonscape.

Structural damage was severe. The ship seemed ready to split in two at any moment.

And this was Vader holding back—he feared hitting Paul by mistake. Otherwise, he would've already unleashed full firepower and turned the Raddus into slag.

"Prepare boarding ships. I want that Jedi alive."

At Vader's command, stormtroopers mobilized, advancing on the crippled Raddus for a full-scale boarding assault.

Inside the dying ship, Paul finally met Admiral Raddus in person.

He was surprised. Why would Raddus accept him under these conditions? It was practically suicide.

"Young and brave Jedi, I wish we could have met under better circumstances," Raddus said with a calm dignity, showing no anger over Paul sacrificing them to save his own people.

"Thank you for sending us the Death Star plans. They're crucial to our cause. It's just a shame we couldn't deliver them ourselves."

As it turned out, before the Raddus was cornered between the Death Star and the Executor, Admiral Raddus had dispatched several ships to carry the plans to safety.

Sadly, none made it to hyperspace—each was destroyed by Imperial forces before jumping out.

The one bit of good news: a different allied faction—fighting against the Empire's tyranny—did manage to get away with a copy of the plans.

At least that meant their mission wasn't in vain.

Sooner or later, the Rebel Alliance would learn the Death Star's fatal weakness.

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