Work Text:
A ship is not a living thing. It has no veins, instead strewn through by hallways, turbolifts, and transport pods. It has no eyes nor ears, only scanners and comm-relays. In place of a heart, the behemoth bore a mechanical sun in its core, fueling the numerous systems that kept it and its tens of thousands of passengers alive. Yet as the dreadnought pulled out of its docking clamps, it might as well have been alive. Pressurized steam escaped from exhaust vents as its engines fired for the first time, expanding under the heat as if it were a living, breathing thing.
Aboard the ship was the greatest variety of minds the Empire might've ever procured; from the best weapons officers of the sector to academy-raw trainees on their first cadet cruise, everyone was there. Even the Fondorian technicians and engineers stood before the windows and viewscreens, never breaking their gaze from their beloved creation. They reached, holding out their hands, as if all their work would vanish before their eyes if they dared to let it go. This was the third of the Mandator line, the culmination of not just the Empire but the thousand-year old Republic that preceded it. Never was it the tool for injustice nor dominion. For years, its kin stood unwavering in the face of impossible odds; just as the robotic armies of the Separatists and their destroyers failed to crush the face of righteousness that was the Republic, so too would the Totality never waver in its resolve. It was a noble ship, destined to uphold the Imperial flag of order and carry the weight of the entire galaxy upon its quadanium-plated back. Destined to burn away the dark with the light of its engines, to bring light to the distant and starless skies of countless worlds. It was a warrior, for that was the meaning of its name Bellator.
Its Admiral cast a doubtful glance at her old friend, the Leap of Faith seeming so incredibly small against the backdrop of the orbital shipyards. It was time. Time for her to say her goodbyes and fulfill the namesake of her command, to make a leap of faith. Such was the battlefield they were headed for; they knew not whether her hull would bear the pressure of lightspeed, nor if her guns were enough to fend off the criminals and insurgents that ruled the Outer Rim. The Totality was more than just a reward for loyalty or some commander's pet project. It was the only one of its class, of the entire Empire: a star dreadnought, not left by remains of the old but built by the new. A symbol, that's what it was. 'The long day of the Republic has come to an end at last,' it spoke. 'Night is nigh, but the end is not; to those lost in the dark, follow my light. The sun shall rise, and thus herald the dawn of a new age. Fear not, for the oppressors of peace shall know no sunrise, only the eclipsing totality of annihilation in the name of Imperial justice.'
The stars set and rose upon Fondor, as if joining to watch the departure of the Totality and her crew. If a Star Destroyer was a flying city, then this must be nothing less than a planet - a world of its own, atmosphere sealed not by gravity but by the work of a thousand engineers and ten thousand builders; moved not by the system's sun but its own, artificial one, the heart of the ship and the world contained within.
Departure at dawn. Long has it been the tradition of warriors heading off to the long fight, and this warrior, this Bellator would not be one to break the line. Comms were through, from ship to station to sector and back to ship again. Sensors online, weapons primed. Engines spinning, pushing, firing. "Hyperspace in t-minus sixty," came the intercom call, and the entire ship felt it. A deep, low rumbling emanated from somewhere within the superstructure, shaking the decks with its permeating hum. From inside that superstructure, the final checks all lined up: tankers separated, reactor stable, hyperlane open. Fondor gave its final confirmation, echoed back from the bridge with an "affirmative, flight control. T-minus ten."
Five. ALL SYSTEMS GO appeared in big, bright letters across the flight control screens.
Three. The coaxium valves opened, hyperfuel streaming into the engines.
Two. The ship shook, knocking crewmen back in their chairs by sheer acceleration alone.
One. The stars dragged into lines.
Lightspeed.