91. The Difference In Power

=== Maximus – Orbit Above Yavin ===

The stars wheeled slowly across the void, a canvas of endless night pierced by burning wreckage of ships. The Republic cruiser, a dagger-shaped silhouette in orbit, fought off a mixture of Imperial and Separatist forces, unaware that death approached.

Three blazing trails cut through the black, arcs of fire and fury, Astartes in flight. Their jump packs roared soundlessly as they soared through the cold dark.

At the center was Maximus, his massive form framed by ceramite blue and the dull gold of honor. On either flank: Raxor, and Sebastian.

The cruiser loomed ahead.

Maximus' helm fed him data, deflection vectors, shield harmonics, stress points in the hull. He saw the perfect place to strike.

"Impact in five."

"I see it." Raxor growled.

"Oh how I've missed this." Sebastian intoned joyfully.

And then they hit.

The hull shrieked as ceramite punched through it. The hanger bay wall buckled inward, plates buckling and rupturing in an explosion of steel and smoke.

Inside the cruiser, clone troopers scrambled to cover. Sirens wailed. Jedi Knights ignited their sabers. Officers shouted, voices drowned by the automated alerts flooding the hangar deck.

From the smoke-filled breach, six glowing red optics emerged, gleaming like sets of baleful stars in the dust-choked darkness.

The clones froze.

The Jedi stepped forward.

Then Death manifest.

Maximus exploded from the rubble, his thunder hammer a comet of blue energy. The first clone barely had time to scream before he was crushed into paste, the shockwave turning the three beside him into bloody vapor.

"FOR GUILLIMAN!" He bellowed, and the hangar erupted into chaos.

On his left, Raxor opened fire, his massive heavy bolter chattering with the wrath of the Emperor. Explosive rounds tore through clone ranks, pulping armor and shattering bodies. A Jedi charged him, saber spinning in a brilliant arc, but Raxor caught him mid-leap and threw him like a ragdoll into a ship.

A second Jedi tried to flank him, too late. Raxor turned and reducing the man to ash and boiling blood.

On the right, Sebastian was already a whirlwind. His storm shield crackled with absorbed blaster fire as he advanced. A saber struck it, and rebounded with a shriek of dissonant energy.

With his right hand, Sebastian drove his power sword through a clone sergeant's chest and lifted him off the ground before hurling the corpse into two more. A Jedi approached, young, fast, too confident.

Sebastian backstepped the first strike, his shield swinging outward to break the Knight's jaw with a sickening crunch. The Jedi stumbled back, choking on blood.

"You are not worthy," Sebastian hissed, and impaled him through the abdomen with brutal finality.

Maximus leapt again, coming down in the center of a clone formation. The hammer struck, and a shockwave detonated out from him like a miniature star. Bodies flew. Limbs torn free. Alarms shattered from the sheer force of it.

Two Jedi closed in now, one a Twi'lek, the other a grizzled human. They came at him in unison, sabers spinning in coordinated grace.

Maximus stepped forward to meet them.

A cold silence settled over the Force, an unnatural stillness, as though some vital sense had been severed. The Jedi stopped in their tracks, their blades wavering. The Twi'lek grimaced as he tried to reach out with the Force.

Nothing answered.

The older Jedi's expression contorted in sudden fear, his eyes locking onto Maximus' slow, steady approach.

"What… what are you?" he muttered.

Maximus didn't answer. The very air around him felt sick, oppressive, like a black hole had opened in reality and was pulling their souls toward it.

The younger leapt forward, slashing down with a precise strike aimed at Maximus' head.

It struck his vambrace and glanced off, and before the Jedi could react, Maximus' gauntlet shot out, grabbing him by the head.

There was no ceremony, no flourish. Just brute, efficient execution.

He crushed the Twi'lek's head with a sickening crunch and hurled his body down the hallway like a sack of meat. The clones behind him screamed.

The second Jedi charged, screaming now in pure desperation. He tried to feint left, then spin and strike low, hoping to find a weak spot.

But he was too slow.

Maximus' Thunder hammer caught the Jedi mid-step, not even a clean hit, just a grazing strike to the torso.

The Jedi detonated.

Bone, blood, and cloth exploded across the walls and floor, painting the interior of the hanger bay with the remains of a would-be champion. The man's lightsaber clattered to the floor, still humming, until Maximus crushed it under his boot.

More clones poured in. A gunship landed inside the hangar, troops deploying with speed.

"Raxor," Maximus voxed calmly, "eliminate it."

"Gladly."

Raxor turned. The heavy bolter roared in a single, prolonged burst. The dropship's engines stuttered, then exploded, the entire craft went up, flinging body parts in every direction.

A Jedi tried to push the wreckage forward with the Force to crush them, but Sebastian was faster. He vaulted over flaming debris and cut the Jedi clean in half, his blade glowing with residual heat.

Maximus looked around now. The hangar was a slaughterhouse. Clone limbs lay scattered like children's toys after a tantrum. Jedi bodies twitched in death spasms, sabers extinguished and broken.

He turned to his brothers.

"Status?"

"Bolter's still half full." Raxor rumbled.

"I am ready for more," Sebastian said coldly, flicking blood from his blade.

Maximus took in the carnage for a moment longer, then nodded.

Together, they turned toward the interior doors.

Maximus stepped forward, raising one ceramite boot, thick with blood and ash, and kicked with the force of a charging dreadnought.

BOOM.

The doors exploded inward, shrapnel slicing through clone troopers stationed just behind them. A sudden cloud of smoke, plasma, and metal fragments filled the corridor beyond. Clones screamed, caught in the blast radius, those too close were torn to pieces.

From that choking haze, three walking Angels of Death emerged.

Maximus raised his heavy bolt pistol, its massive muzzle flashing with each thunderous shot. Each round ripped apart armor and flesh with brutal precision. Clones were flung back like dolls, their bodies detonating into sprays of gore.

To his left, Raxor strode forward, bracing his feet wide, the belt-fed bolter rattling death. His fire painted the corridor with muzzle flashes and blood. Entire squads were reduced to nothing in seconds. Even reinforced walls cracked under the barrage, sparks showering from overloaded systems as consoles ignited.

To the right, Sebastian fired his bolt pistol with calculated, surgical efficiency, each shot a death sentence. He advanced, blaster sparkling harmlessly off his armor. A clone popped from cover, Sebastian fired, and the man's helmet vaporized, body crumpling in silence.

They moved forward as one. Step. Fire. Step. Fire.

Raxor shifted slightly, pivoting as a blast door opened to their left. A Jedi in durasteel armor, dual sabers ignited, charged forth. Behind him, more clones spilled in.

The Jedi leapt, but the heavy bolter barked before he landed. One round hit his knee, obliterating the joint; he spun midair, screaming. A second round struck center mass, detonating the torso in a burst of mist.

The clones screamed. Raxor silenced them with a roar of steel.

Maximus kept pressing forward, moving down the main hall toward the ship's central command spire. Officers inside screamed for lockdowns. Emergency blast doors slammed shut with a hiss of pressurized air and the deep thud of mag-locks engaging.

The hallway went still for a second, only the flickering overhead lights and the groans of wounded clones filled the air.

With his heavy bolt pistol holstered, the Ultramarine planted one gauntleted hand on the reinforced durasteel doors. Fingers like adamantium pistons dug into the seam, metal shrieking in protest as he forced his hand deeper between the two halves of the sealed gateway.

The clones behind the blast door were already shouting, one frantically screamed, "It's locked! He can't get through—he can't—"

CRACK.

Maximus remained silent, armor whining under the strain as his massive shoulder and back muscles. The metal buckled, groaned, and then gave.

With a final, inhuman wrench, he ripped the blast doors open, folding the locking mechanisms in on themselves like soft clay. The twisted halves screeched apart, one crashing to the floor as sparks showered the entryway.

Through the gaping breach, the command deck came into view, and chaos followed.

"FORWARD!" Sebastian bellowed, the battle joy taking him, storming through the ruined door like a living battering ram.

Blaster fire met him. But it meant nothing.

His storm shield rose, deflecting bolts like rain as his brothers followed, Raxor with his heavy bolter roaring to life, Maximus with his Thunder Hammer gleaming with flickering lightning.

The clones didn't stand a chance.

An officer lunged at the Ultramarine with a vibroblade.

Maximus caught the man mid-swing and ripped his arm off at the elbow. The officer collapsed in shock, and Maximus crushed his skull with a single stomp.

To the side, a young Jedi tried to rally the men. "Stand firm! We have—"

A bolt pistol round took him in the chest, blowing him off his feet, covering a console in his remains. Smoke curled from the molten crater that had once been his sternum.

Sebastian pivoted around a console and drove his power sword into a clone's throat. With a twist and wrench, he cut straight through, then spun and embedded the blade into another man's side, sawing it free through his ribcage.

Maximus advanced to the tactical table in the center of the command room, smashing it aside with a hammer blow. It shattered into a dozen flaming chunks, and the officers nearby scrambled backward in terror.

He raised his heavy bolt pistol. Fire and steel answered. The officers died screaming.

"Raxor." Maximus said over their Vox link.

The Salamander reached one of the main consoles, pushing aside a dead officer whose body still slumped across the display. The command interface sparked with warnings, pulsing red across its surfaces. Raxor's armored fingers moved with surprising precision as he accessed the ship's manual navigation.

"Target acquired," he rumbled, optics glowing in the low light.

The ship's forward-facing view shifted, now locked onto the pale curve of the planet below.

"Designate: Base Omega. Coordinates uploaded," Raxor said, and punched in the trajectory.

Maximus nodded in grim satisfaction.

Raxor's hand hovered over the throttle, then slammed it forward. The ship lurched as the engines surged to full output, inertial dampeners whining under the sudden acceleration. The massive vessel groaned, its hull straining as it began its final descent.

On the planet below, sirens began to wail.

The bridge trembled. Panels sparked and flickered. The dead and dying were flung to the floor as gravity shifted violently, while the three Astartes stood unmoving.

Raxor turned from the console. "It's done. Impact in ninety seconds."

None of the Marines flinched.

Instead, the three made their way toward the front viewport, a reinforced transparisteel window overlooking the world. Below them, clouds streaked by as flame kissed the hull from reentry.

Maximus activated his jump pack with a sharp growl. The turbines hummed, red light leaking from the exhaust. He looked to Sebastian, then Raxor. No words were needed.

Then, Maximus, taking the lead, punched clean through it.

Shards of transparisteel exploded outward, sucked into the void as decompression began. Air screamed from the breach, and klaxons howled behind them, but the Astartes were already gone.

Maximus leapt first, launching into the cold blackness of space, jump pack roaring as he became a crimson comet streaking toward the planet.

Sebastian followed a heartbeat later, his shield held tight.

And last was Raxor, his green armor catching the glow of the burning ship above, bolter strapped to his back as he dove.

The cruiser, now abandoned, continued on its terminal descent, flames growing along its hull as it hurtled toward the Republic base.

Below them sprawled the Republic fortress Base Omega, a wedge of durasteel and permacrete dug into the mountain. Trenches spidered out in defensive rings, dotted with heavy turbolasers, shield nodes, and ranks upon ranks of clone troopers in white armor.

The battle was already being fought far below.

Tens of Ultramarines, azure behemoths in their livery of honor, tore through the frontline trenches. Bolter fire boomed like thunder, chainswords screamed as they carved white-armored bodies in two, and a dreadnought lumbered through the fire, twin autocannons shredding fortifications like paper. The air was thick with smoke, flame, and the acrid bite of ozone and blood.

And still the Republic resisted.

The clone troopers, well-trained and unwavering, fought with a discipline few in the galaxy could match. Behind barricades and makeshift cover, they fired at the advancing Space Marines with everything they had, repeating blasters, heavy E-Web cannons, even modified artillery batteries.

But the Astartes pressed forward, unrelenting, a tide of ceramite and vengeance.

And then from the sky, death arrived.

Maximus was the first to smash into the rear lines, a thunderous impact that sent clones flying like ragdolls. He landed with such force that the ground cracked beneath him, and in an instant, his thunder hammer roared to life. The next rank of troopers raised their weapons in desperation-

Too slow.

The hammer swept through them, bodies breaking, armor crumpling. One clone flew backward in two pieces. Another's helmet exploded from the concussive shock.

To his left, Raxor crashed down, his massive bulk plowing through a parked TX-130 tank like it was made of plastoid. His heavy bolter firing as he wretched himself from the vehicle, each shell a high-explosive payload of death. Clones died by the dozens, shredded and torn in an instant. Limbs flew. Screams pierced the chaos.

And to the right, Sebastian landed like a descending sword of judgment, his obsidian armor glinting, storm shield raised as blaster bolts struck it and vanished into shimmering sparks. His power sword came alive with blue lightning, slashing in wide arcs. One clone tried to stab him with a vibroblade, Sebastian caught the strike on his shield and crushed the man beneath it with a single shove.

Behind them, from high above-

The Republic cruiser impacted.

The sky turned white.

The shockwave hit, flattening towers and turning walls into rubble. The base's command center, once a proud fortress at the rear, was swallowed in fire. Thousands of clones were thrown from their feet, weapons flung from their grasp, shields shattered in a heartbeat.

Even the Ultramarines at the front had to brace against the monumental detonation, but they didn't lose their footing.

Dust and flame swept across the battlefield like a tidal wave.

Maximus didn't wait. He surged forward, his heavy bolt pistol barking death into the dazed ranks of troopers. He vaulted over a ruined barricade and slammed into a squad of commandos attempting to regroup. One blow from his hammer collapsed the ribcage of the squad leader. Another sent a commando flying fifty feet into a smoking crater.

"Push! Purge the line!" Maximus bellowed into the vox, voice cutting through the storm like a blade.

To his sides, his brothers advanced in tandem.

Raxor walked through gunfire as though it were rain. His bolter never ceased, feeding its hunger on an unending chain of belts that spat death without pause. A walker turned its turret to fire at him.

He raised his heavy bolter and fired a krak grenade from his underbarrel launcher.

The walker vanished in a ball of flame.

Sebastian danced through the chaos like a wraith. His movements were precise, controlled, a masterwork of motion and lethality. He carved through clone ARC troopers like they were children, each movement of his power sword brutal and final. His storm shield batted aside rockets and mortars with contemptuous ease.

Together, they cut through the backline like a burning spear.

The Republic forces, trapped between two fronts, began to crumble. The Ultramarines surged with renewed fury from the trenches and bunkers ahead, bolters thundering in cadence with Maximus' voice. Flamers lit up the bunkers, melting durasteel and flesh. Chainswords hummed like ravenous beasts.

Explosions rained down from orbit, Thunderhawk gunships screaming overhead, delivering death from the skies.

A Jedi general tried to rally his men, his green blade a flickering beacon of hope.

Maximus saw him.

He launched forward like a living missile, his jump pack flaring behind him. The Jedi turned too late, his blade rose in defense, but Maximus' hammer came down, empowered by righteous fury and the mass of a tank.

The Jedi's lightsaber shattered.

His body was crushed into the ground, embedded like a splattered insect.

Maximus rose, turning to face the crumbling ranks of clone survivors. He gripped his hammer in both hands as lightning began gathering at the head.

"Beg your gods for mercy, for I have none."

The clone forces began to rout.

But there would be no escape.

Maximus leapt into the sky with the help of his jump pack, holding his thunder hammer high above his head before exploding downward, detonating the area around him, incinerating the retreating troopers.

Orbital fire rained down, turning the retreating Republic forces into an open grave. Astartes squads cut off their lines. Dreadnoughts rose from smoke and flame like wrathful spirits.

By the time the dust cleared…

Base Omega no longer existed.

Only the banners of the Imperium stood among the ashes.

And Maximus, standing tall at the heart of the destruction, raised his hammer high as the skies above broke into morning light.

"For the Emperor!"

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