Eternal Father
The Dark Lord watched through the viewport as the enemy ships began to move in response to the Oblation's presence, which had now become unavoidable since it departed the shroud of the asteroid field. Since it's initial foray into the open void, the Oblation had shifted it's trajectory towards the large super-heavy battlecruiser and the formation of three large star destroyers that accompanied it. While the majority of the Imperial fleet had continued on towards and even into the asteroid field, virtually leaving the single Sith warship to proceed unimpeded, a formation of light destroyers and accompanying corvettes had turned an eye towards this errant vessel.
Like before, He could feel them as their great metal bodies pivoted in the emptiness. The electrical hum of sensor nodes analyzing from afar, data processing at several magnitudes beyond the speed of thought. Gears and pistons clicking and heaving as weapon systems rotated in their moorings, and beneath it all the heartbeats and steady breaths of those that gave motion to each. Much like a choreographed dance, each player moved in accordance with their role to the sound of an unseen orchestra.
Turning from the viewport, the Dark Lord strode off with an imperious flourish of His scaled cloak. The door closed behind Him with a barely audible hydraulic whoosh, and the empty corridor welcomed His presence with silent reverence. Stretching His hands forward, a gout of black and green flame bubbled out from the flat of His palms, in their wake revealing cruel blackened steel wrought in the visage of a snarling god. Even inert, the helmet was weighted with the oppressive radiation of insulated hatred.
Still walking, He raised the horrible artifact over His head and let the metal distort and widen as He lowered it down over His brow. Like a living creature, the metal crawled over His face and neck, attaching to magnetized receiver ports embedded along the edge of His gorget. A faint hiss escaped as the first lock engaged, followed by a soft chorus as each one followed in quick succession. More like a second skin than a piece of armor, the helmet aligned perfectly with the contour of His face. Lastly, the metal fused itself to the skin, creating a blood-seal that could only be removed through intense ritual.
For the remainder of this battle, the Dark Lord would never take the helmet off.
In silence, the helmet's systems awoke with a reverberating, animalistic shudder. Arcane circuitry was rewritten and rerouted to seamlessly interface with that found within the Dark Lord's armor, a perfect insulated system. A layer of energy scintillated across His exposed skin, strong as Beskar but as flexible as silk. Within, the Dark Lord was hermetically sealed, the helmet now circulating and recycling oxygen rather than drawing it from the air around Him.
With all this in place, the Dark Lord approached the outer airlock gate. Stepping inside, He allowed the inner bulkhead behind Him to close and seal. Unbidden, the airlock began to cycle through it's various phases of equilibrium, creating an equal pressure environment between itself and the vacuum outside. A light flashed and the outer bulkhead opened, and the Dark Lord of the Sith took His first steps out into the emptiness of space. Through the magic runes imbued in His clawed greaves, He remained fixed to the Oblation's outer hull as He walked, a solitary figure silhouetted against the dark gray hull of the warship.
The bridge had their orders to continue as planned, and let the Dark Lord contend with whatever they would set in their place. Cybernetic analysts received the oncoming ECM and open comm deluge, working with mechanical procession to process and disseminate as much as they could, but it didn't appear as though they intended to really fight back in a conventional manner. Likewise, even as the enemy directed fighters and launched missiles, the Oblation never shifted direction or even launched it's own countermeasures; it just continued to soar on it's chosen trajectory. There was no panic or scramble by the crew, only a silent certainty; a discipline forged from unwavering and absolute faith.
Faith in the Eternal Father.
Darth Carnifex could not see beyond the helmet's confines, it had neither visor nor internal visual processors, He was entirely blind and deaf to all beyond it. It was just Himself and the Force. But even then, He could see with a sight beyond physical means, hear even in the vacuum of space, and feel the position of everything around Him even many dozens of kilometers away. His head swiveled towards the oncoming onslaught of missiles and enemy fighters, He could feel each individual objects moving through the void.
He reached out with a taloned claw, the Force bending to His will. A veteran of a thousand battlefields on both land and space, the Dark Lord was more seasoned than any living creature on either side of this battle in the space above Brosi. He need only subtle turn the orientation of His outstretched hand, and the galaxy itself was reshaped in accordance with His designs. Missiles, their aim so certain and so true, found their trajectory shifting to intercept the path of those nearby.
Imperial Pilots, their bodies trained by countless hours of simulation and active combat, realized that their own muscles were no longer theirs to command. Hands that once moved with surety now acted of their own accord, some of them turning their own ship's weapons on their fellow pilots, ripping out crucial components in a deliberate manner, or even harming themselves with whatever means they had. Their minds were their own, nothing clouded their vision nor their reason, it was their bodies that had betrayed them; puppeted by an alien cognition far beyond their comprehension.
All the while, the Dark Lord watched, silent and implacable, riding astride the warship Oblation as it plowed through the starlit void.
