Chapter Text
Praxus stood on the bridge of the Providence Class known as the Torch of Revelation. His metallic fingers clasped behind his back as he looked out into the void of space as red photoreceptors looked across screens confirming that every ship had successfully made the jump to this remote system on the edge of the galactic rim bordering the unknown region. It was the work of years to manage this after he saw the truth. The red plated super tactical droid hadn't planned on this plan that boarded on treason. But his processors didn't lie, this war was wrong. Top even when each side had opportunities to crush the other only to be foiled by chance and return to this bloody stalemate. He wasn't sure who the puppet master was but he knew they did not truly support the people of the Confederacy of Independent Systems, the people he had been built to serve. He just wished he could serve more of them with this plan but there were only so many ships he could vanish. Colony ships, naval vessels, mining ships. Everything he needed to rebuild the CIS when the final act closed, with that mad cyborg's coming attack on Cooruscant Praxus suspected was coming soon.
So here he was in a dead system with as many ships, droids, scientists and even civilians as he could scavenge. An isolated system of dead world known only by the archeology communities of the galaxy for its black pyramids full of long deactivated droids of unknown make whose age rivaled that of the Rakatan’s own empire. If he had lungs he'd have sighed when warning alarms broke across the bridge. He called out for explanations as droids and organic crew members told him that the ancient complexes were crackling with green energy including a ring of them around the entire solar system. All he had time to do was order the fleet to raise their shields and prepare fire teams to handle any damages. With those orders given he could only watch the cage of emerald lightning form before there was a flash blinding even his own sensors.
The world returned to focus with ships reporting their status one after the other. While plenty of them had minor damage he was relieved when at the end only a refinery ship and a pair of minor frigates had been lost. But that relief was short lived as he looked out from the bridge's window and into the void knowing wherever they were wasn't home for the multicolored scar across the sky told him that much by sight alone. Praxus hoped that wherever he had taken his fleet and the people in it he could protect them.