SW: The Forgotten Empire

The Lost Cause

      A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...
      He started, eyes wide open. In front of him was a battle. A battle. No, he thought, the battle. The battle that would predict the future of the galaxy. The battle that would decide the Empire's fate. It was bound to doom.
      Thousands of Star Destroyers sailed high and proud, around a million TIE Fighters swept across the battlefield, dogfighting against the various squadrons of X-Wings.
      He blinked. He was floating in space, drifting further away from the ruins of the great Star Destroyer he commanded. His commander's lapels shone as he stared at the bridge of his ship. Bodies were floating around, blood grisly splattered across their uniforms. His blank face clouded with an inexpressible anguish as he watched his comrades, the people he used to work with, eat with, talk with- all of them were dead.
      The static buzz of the radio echoed through the eerie silence, a live feed of the battle several thousand meters from his drifted Star Destroyer.
      "Six is down...Death count: 12...34689...0293..."
      No, he thought, we lost. Far away, he watched as fellow Star Destroyers burn. The remaining of the Empire's mighty force were preparing for a hyper-space jump. Most didn't make it, the Red Squadron- comprised of X-Wings bore down mercilessly, shooting down everything in sight.
      He watched as the last few Star Destroyers jumped into space, to nowhere, with no destiny, with no hope. The Alliance let off an air of triumph, victorious in spite of all odds and they too, prepared to leap into space, back to their base.
      Everything is lost, he thought. His eyes reflected the devastation, the hopelessness as he stared at the destroyed ships, now still. His Star Destroyer was pulled into orbit and he closed his eyes one last time, despair consuming him as he willingly as he accepted death. The once-great Star Destroyer plummeted into the planet Jakku, never able to fight in great battles ever again.