"Stay in formation, Phantom Three," Colonel Veriss ordered while glancing at the four blips on his scanner. "They haven't shown any aggression other than following us in attack positions."

"I presume they are testing us, sir," Phantom Three's AI replied. "They are observing us to measure our resolve."

"Precisely," Veriss stated. He flipped a switch on the control panel. Yellow lights on the weapons indicators instantly turned red. "But we will fight if we have to, not to destroy them but just nick them here or there. That's all they need. For now."

Another scanner check showed that the First Order TIEs were keeping their distance. Veriss smiled as he recognized their flight patterns.

Ah, you're pulling a card from our deck. It's a nice try, but it won't trick me into letting down my guard. "Be advised, Phantom Three, we are coming out of hyperspace in a few seconds. Stay alert."

"Copy that," Phantom Three asked. “Have you noticed the markings on the TIEs?"

Veriss rolled his eyes and huffed. "What about them? We already know they are from the Finalizer."

"On the contrary, sir, They are from a ship named Absolution."

"The Absolution? Are you sure your scanners are properly calibrated, Phantom Three?"

"Yes, sir. My diagnostic scans have revealed no abnormalities."

Brilliant strategy. Send fighters from another ship in a mock attack. And if we defend ourselves, we become the aggressors to the entire First Order, Veriss thought. "In that case, we'll play with them for a while. Jump out of hyperspace now, Phantom Three!"

A moon capable of supporting abundant life sailed into view. Veriss knew the place well. It was known as Sancaas, the largest moon of the planet Renda Noth. Veriss banked his fighter to the left and initiated a dive through the outer layers of the atmosphere. The First Order TIEs followed suit.

A brilliant green flash zipped past the Imperial TIEs. Veriss grimaced while keeping his course.

"Ignore the blaster fire, Phantom Three," he stated calmly. "They are just trying to shake us up. It's not going to work, though."

A sudden jolt rocked his fighter. Veriss yanked the control yoke to compensate for the blast. "It just got serious. Hold to course."

Phantom Three shook like a branch in a storm under several blaster shots. The AI adjusted its course to return to the original heading. "They are upping their game, sir. Aft shields are at eighty-three percent."

Veriss drew in a breath and checked his scanner. "Hold on just a little longer. We're almost there."

"Attention Imperial TIEs, we are under orders to escort you to our ship for questioning," a voice said through Veriss's comlink. "Do not deviate from the course we transmitted to your navigational computers. We will be forced to disable you if you do not comply."

Who in the hell do these people think they are? Veriss mumbled in his mind. He gazed out of his fighter's viewport. A pair of large thunderstorms appeared on the horizon. He nodded when a plan came to mind.

"Phantom Three, increase power to aft shields and follow me," he said. He sped his fighter up and headed for the narrowing passageway between the fierce storms.

The sunlight dimmed when the TIE Advanced fighters moved between the storms. Veriss counted down silently and then exclaimed, "Now, Phantom Three!"

He banked sharply to the right, turning the fighter on its starboard side. The dark clouds engulfed his fighter like a giant fish swallowing much smaller bait. Rain pelted his ship. The wind tossed him about like a piece of rubble on the surface of a stormy lake. Veriss grasped the controls and engaged in a tug-of-war against the raging elements.

They are tethered to their technology. Time to use that to my advantage, Veriss reasoned silently while continuing to battle the storm.

He checked the scanner. It showed nothing but distorted images and crisscrossing lines. The electrical interference from the storm had blinded his fighter. He flipped a switch on his panel. With a whirring noise, a square-shaped metallic grid rose from the console and positioned itself level with Veriss's line of sight.

Let's see how you do with durasteel sights," he muttered.

A series of alerts echoed from his sensor screen. In the lulls between the storm interference, it showed two of the First Order TIEs just above him before it scrambled into indecipherable jumbles.

"Phantom Two, power down shields and all other nonessential systems. Prepare to transfer weapons and engines to auxiliary power only. Stand by on tractor beams. " he ordered while mentally crunching numbers. "Wait for my command. We’ll give them a little surprise."

"Consider it done, sir, " Phantom Two’s AI replied.

The scanner wavered again. Two blips appeared below and just to the left of him. "Now, Phantom Two!"

Veriss pressed his fighter into a steep dive, following the course he had calculated earlier. Banks of dark clouds raced past his viewport like swarms of ghosts moving through a haunted structure. He continued to dive using thrusts from auxiliary power to compensate for the wind deflection. He scanned the impending darkness for any movement while continuing on his descent.

A flash of lightning cut through the abyss. A pair of dark shapes appeared as mechanical shadows contrasting with the storm clouds. Veriss leveled off, lined up the TIE closest to him in his durasteel sight, and fired a burst from his blaster cannons. An electrical box protruding from just above the ion engine erupted in a sparkling explosion. He pressed a control on his left. A shimmering blue band of energy shot out from his TIE and latched on to the First Order fighter like the tentacle of a sea beast.

The velocity of the First Order TIE whipped him around like a kite in a strong wind. He adjusted the throttle and used the momentum to blast the other TIE's weapons control conduit while locking on to the fighter with another energy band.

"Full power, now Phantom Two!", he ordered. He pulled back on the control yoke, struggling to keep the two First Order TIEs from dragging him off course.

"Attention, Imperial aggressor, if you do not release us, we will increase power and pull you apart!" warned one of the First Order TIE pilots through Veriss's comlink.

"I would reconsider that if I were you, " another voice countered. "You are outnumbered and will be destroyed. Colonel Veriss, this is Phantom Four. I have you covered."

"Thank you, Phantom Four," Veriss replied. "Attention First Order Pilots, hold course and prepare to be escorted to the awaiting Imperial Star Destroyer."

"What Imperial Star Destroyer?" demanded the lead First Order pilot.

"The one that just dropped out of hyperspace above you," Veriss answered firmly. "We are now within its shield radius. Do not attempt to escape if you value your lives. Phantom Three, please report."

"Phantom Five and I have the two other First Order TIEs secured, " Phantom Three replied. "Awaiting orders, sir."

Veriss smiled beneath his helmet. "Star Destroyer, Impetus, this is Colonel Veriss. Request permission to land with our guests."

"Colonel Veriss, this is Impetus. Permission granted. We will welcome them warmly", an Imperial officer said.

This should be interesting, Veriss thought before aligning his fighter on an approach vector.

Prolov emerged from the double blast doors with an expressionless face. His countenance earned a second glance from Phasma. She focused on him, evaluating his body language and the blank stare he offered to her. Judging from her extensive studies of his historical files and personal profiles written by the most astute First Order psychologists and historians, she found this out of place. His mentor, Grand Admiral Thrawn, had passed on qualities of politeness to him. But in this moment, those qualities were eclipsed by a hidden darkness lurking behind his hazel eyes.

Something significant happened in there, she reasoned mentally. Was he communicating with someone, perhaps a soul, who revealed the true nature of my stay on this ship? If Hux has given me away, I swear I’ll rip his throat out slowly.

Prolov remained silent for several more moments. His stare cut through her like an invisible internal scanner used by the medical droids on First Order warships. She shivered under his unwavering gaze as if she had shed her armor and stood before him vulnerable and exposed.

No one had ever reached her on such a personal level. What has he found out about me? She asked herself silently. And how did he find a way through my stone-cold persona to bring me to a place where I am no longer as comfortable as I am accustomed to being? Pull yourself together, Phasma. Don't let him get to you.

His narrowing eyes caught her attention. She slowed her breathing and continued to study him. Surely, he couldn't have heard her thoughts.

No, that's impossible. She told herself while fighting the foreboding sensation filtering through the room like an air current set to freezing levels. And I don't even want to comprehend the ramifications if that assumption was valid.

"Captain, I understand you have been waiting for me, " Prolov said, finally breaking the silence.

His words were as emotionless as his expression. And they were as frigid as the night air on the frozen world of Hoth.

"Is there anything wrong, Captain? " Prolov said with raised eyebrows. "Please let me know what I can do for you."

She shook her head. "I appreciate that, Admiral. I am still trying to gain my bearings. Being on a ship of this nature is disorienting, especially when I am accustomed to vessels like the Finalizer."

A blatant lie but a necessary one to save face. Well played, Captain. Prolov thought. He smiled and motioned down the corridor. "This way, please, we still have much to discuss."

"What more do we have to discuss, Admiral? ", Phasma asked, turning her eyes to Prolov. Is he approaching the breaking point? Has he finally accepted the hopelessness of his situation and now realizes that merging his forces with the First Order is his only option for survival?

Prolov remained silent. They stepped into the conference room. He turned to her and motioned toward a chair on the opposite side of the table. "Please take a seat, Captain. " He waited for her to be seated before continuing. His eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward. "It is time for you to realize what I am capable of beyond what I have already shown you. Perhaps it is imperative for you to know why I am known as the ‘Butcher of the Outer Rim’."

Without waiting for a response, he began to speak. The conference room evolved into a corridor between two sets of blast doors. She looked around at her surroundings only to find them unfamiliar. She heard the sounds of a scuffle coming from the doorway to her right. A loud banging noise emanated from the closed door. Muffled voices and screams rang out from the room beyond. She watched the blast door open. A pitiful scream echoed through the corridor before a young man with a head full of dark hair was forcefully shoved through the opening.

His face was bloody from various scrapes and cuts suffered in a fight. His nose and mouth dripped with blood from gaping wounds, the savage results of repeated strikes. A fractured bone in his life arm poked upward just below the skin. His whimpering came in labored breath. And then his tormentor walked in, causing Captain Phasma to freeze in astonishment.

Admiral Prolov approached the young man, his face contorting into the mask of a mad man. His eyes burned with a fury that even Captain Phasma was surprised to see in the soul she had come to admire in her history studies.

Without remorse, Prolov grabbed the young man's broken left arm and twisted it behind his back, sending the broken bone forcefully through the skin. The young man screamed at a high pitch before breaking down in repeated sobs. Prolov then grabbed his hair and drove his face into the wall with a hard thrust.

The bones breaking in his nose crackled in the corridor like tree limbs cracking in a high wind. Prolov turned him around before plunging his fist into the left side of his rib cage. His breaths became even more labored while he drew air into his lungs. Prolov pushed the young man towards the blast door to the left with a hard shove.

"Please...stop!" the young man said tremblingly. "I have had enough...I'll surrender to you..."

Prolov's grin became even more sinister. "I am just getting started, Daveen Jerek!"

Prolov forcefully shoved the young man through the threshold.

A man in a doctor's lab coat approached Prolov, only to be held back by a pair of stormtroopers. "We need to give that man medical attention, Admiral!"

"Indeed, I will." Admiral Prolov replied in a voice that boomed like thunder.

He then hurled the young man into a countertop, the sharp edge hitting the right side of his rib cage. He fell to the floor sobbing. Prolov stepped up to deliver a swift kick to the same area of his ribs. The young man began to cough. Spews of blood flew forth from his mouth.

"Stop it, you are going to kill him!" the doctor protested.

"My intentions exactly!" Prolov replied with a sinister grin. He glared at the two stormtroopers. "If the good doctor speaks out of place again, kill him!”

Prolov lifted the young man and slammed him down on a surgical table. He ripped open his shirt before strapping the weeping young man to the surface. He looked over to the doctor.

"Bring me your dullest surgical instrument!" he growled.

The doctor reached into a drawer and pulled out an object square on one end and rounded on the other. He handed the object to Prolov.

"This is a measuring tool. It won't be any use to you, Admiral." The doctor stated nervously while staring at Prolov.

"It will suffice," Prolov said, turning to the stormtroopers. "Take him out of here. Place him with the others."

Prolov waited for them to leave before returning to the weeping young man. He walked towards him slowly, playfully rubbing the dull instrument against his palm, glaring down at the helpless young man.

"You know, my wife Annalisa and our unborn child suffered greatly thanks to you and your worthless brother. You turned my life upside down, and I will repay you." Prolov said with a voice resounding with furious hatred. His lips curled into a frightening expression of anger. "What were your words over your fighter's comlink? Two for the price of one, and let's take out Prolov's worst half! I listened to the recording and memorized every single word you and your brother said!"

"I have no sympathy for that Imperial witch of yours, Prolov!" the young man pleaded between sobs. "Anything goes in war. You should know that, right?"

Prolov shot him a glare that could almost cut into him like a knife. "Except this wasn't a war, was it?"

"We did whatever it took to rid ourselves of your empire, Admiral!" the young man said defiantly.

"You failed!" Prolov shouted back at him. Anger gripped him tightly now. He stepped over to the side of the surgical table. "My Annalisa was a beautiful woman inside and out. But you know what they say about beauty, don't you? They say true beauty is found only on the inside."

"No, please..." the young man screamed when Prolov leaned over him.

Prolov's face went cold, devoid of any sympathy. "Well, let's see how beautiful you are on the inside..."

Phasma watched Prolov drive the dull instrument into the young man's sternum.

The room suddenly turned into a shimmering red landscape. She felt a presence behind her, and she spun on her heels to see a figure just as tall as her in a dark-hooded robe.

"Don't be so foolish to think Prolov will be your instrument of destruction, Phasma," the figure hissed. "Would you care for me to show you who has already played that role?"

The figure reached up and pulled back its hood, revealing a helmet of chromium identical to hers. The face place cracked and fell away like dried mud tossed on solid ground. A pale face with beautiful blue eyes glared at her from beneath the helmet.

Phasma gasped while gazing at her completion. For the first time since she shed tears while watching Brendol Hux destroy her homeplace from the bridge of a First Order star destroyer, Phasma felt a shock grasp her like a set of invisible restraints .Such was the price of taking a glance in fate's mirror.