For one of the few times in her existence, Phasma found it challenging to speak. Thoughts in her mind whirred by like a tightly contested pod race. She was in a dark place, almost comparable to when she was summoned before Supreme Leader Snoke. Of course, Prolov wasn't anything like Snoke. But still, she could sense darkness in the room that cloaked it in a cloth utterly absent of any light.

Why did he show me this? She thought. And why reveal such a thing to a person like me? If it was an attempt to impress me, it was done in vain.

"I assure you, Captain, it wasn't my intention to startle you," Prolov finally offered. "I felt it was prudent for you to know the reasons behind my unfortunate label, 'Butcher of the Outer Rim.'"

Phasma looked away for a few moments. She turned back to Prolov. "And were your actions justified? Or where they rogue acts?”

Prolov’s face went blank. He motioned toward the holoprojector at the center of the table. “I’ll let you view the evidence and decide for yourself, Captain. And I will leave you alone to deliberate on that decision.”

The holoprojector came to life after Prolov stepped out into the corridor. Suddenly voices began to speak, muttered at first before clearing up to where they could be understood. The room quickly filled with holographic images of a planet amid the expanse. A star peeked over the planet’s horizon. Just below the planet, a ship solemnly moved through the star field.

"Silver leader, Silver Two! Do you read me? Abort the mission! Break off the attack!" a male voice cried out desperately. "That is not an Imperial military vessel! It is a civilian transport! Break off the attack, do you read me?"

As Captain Phasma watched, two Rebel Alliance A-Wing Starfighters appeared in the distance and closed on the civilian transport.

"This is Silver Leader to Silver Two, ignore that transmission! Civilian or not, no Imperial ship will pass unscathed as long as I am around." Silver Leader said in a voice dripping with arrogance.

"I hear ya, Silver Leader!" replied Silver Two with just as much arrogance. "And get this, the passenger manifest says Admiral Prolov's wife is aboard. What do you say we take out Prolov's worst half?”

Silver Leader laughed maniacally. "Sounds like a plan to me, brother! What's more, is that witch is pregnant. We can't let her give birth to another Imperial now, right?"

"Affirmative!" Silver Two exclaimed. "Kill two Imperials in one attack. Now those are odds I can live with!"

"Arm incendiary concussion missiles and proceed to the attack vector!" Silver Leader ordered as he pulled his fighter into attack position.

"Silver Leader and Silver Two, you are ordered to abort the mission! Again, break off the attack!" the voice pleaded with the pilots. "You will be charged with war crimes if you do this! Do you hear me, Byron and Byron Jerek?"

Byron Jerek, the leader of Silver Squadron, switched off communications with his base, opting instead to keep a channel open with his brother's fighter. "I just cut communications with them, brother. Keep on the target!"

The two fighters dove on the transport like a pair of birds of prey pouncing on a meal. Davine Jerek smiled, lining the passenger sections up in his sights. "Targets locked on! Blast them!"

Four concussion missiles streamed out from the A-Wings before they turned to head off into space. The four missiles streaked towards the ship, striking the passenger sections in a blinding explosion, ripping large pieces of the ship's outer hull apart, and sending the debris tumbling into space. The warheads pushed through the outer shell like a drill bit through sheet metal, exploding through the passenger interior in a wall of intense fire.

Captain Phasma watched as a recording revealed the burning interior of the transport’s passenger section. Orange flames crept up the bulkheads like a fiery tsunami. Passengers ran futilely to escape the ever-spreading blaze, only to be consumed by the rising flames.

A scream drew her attention. Out of the doorway moved a figure fully engulfed in fire, almost to the point that Captain Phasma could not tell whether the individual was human or alien. The figure emitted another chorus of horrifying screams as flames melted the figure’s flesh like plastic in an oven. She clawed at the walls as she fell, her body convulsing from the excruciating pain of the burns. She rolled over, revealing a bulge in her belly. To Captain Phasma's horror, she realized the burning woman was Annalisa Prolov. A wall of fire flared up, obstructing Captain Phasma's sight of the savagely burned Annalisa.

Phasma shook her head at the sight and thought, If you are trying to reinforce my hatred for House Jerek, then you have more than succeeded, Admiral Prolov.

The holographs suddenly wavered and transformed into a recording showing the mangled wreck of a Rebel Alliance A-wing fighter. A young man with dark hair and olive skin frantically moved within the cockpit, wincing and groaning under spasms of intense pain racing through his body like a raging storm.

A figure in an Imperial TIE pilot’s uniform trimmed in red stepped around the opposite end of the downed fighter. Phasma gasped when she identified the Imperial as Admiral Prolov.

The Rebel pilot’s breathing came in heavy heaves while he gazed up at Prolov with eyes widened with fear.

“Have mercy on me, Prolov!” he pleaded. “You’ve had your revenge. I’m wounded and helpless! My forces have been decimated. It’s over! You have won!”

“Isn’t it a pity that you don’t even know the greater depths of your defeat,” Prolov replied rhetorically. “You have no idea how I found you, Byron Jerek?”

“A lucky guess?”, Jerek said. With a scream of pain, he pulled himself from the fighter’s cockpit lying on its side. With pain striking him like a venomous viper, he slowly slid across the ground until he was a couple of feet away from the wreck. He glanced up at Prolov. “You’re intelligence division is one of the best. They must have revealed my location to you.”

Prolov laughed while watching the wounded young man wheeze with every labored breath. “Wrong. Your precious Princess Leia allowed us to know your location. You and that thing you called a brother were so savagely opposite of what she believed in that she was willing to sacrifice both of you to preserve the dignity of her beloved Rebellion.”

“That tramp abandoned us,” Jerek blasted. “We should have destroyed her just like we destroyed that witch of yours, Prolov!” He grimaced when Prolov stomped towards him. “Ah, careful now, Admiral, my back is probably broken, and my pelvis is shattered. I’m a prisoner of war, and I’m wounded. Morality dictates that you need to care for a captured soul suffering from his wounds.”

Prolov’s face contorted into a mask of rage. “Well, let me give you something for your pain.”

He slammed Jerek’s back with a swift kick. The disgraced Rebel pilot screamed in agony. Prolov stepped upon his ravaged pelvis and pressed down with all his weight. The fractured bones shattered and collapsed with a sickening squish.

Prolov then moved towards a severed section of the fighter and pulled a medium-sized liquid tank from the wreckage. He stepped over to Jerek and poured a pinkish-red substance onto the severely wounded pilot. The young man screamed as the acidic fluid blistered his skin. Prolov moved over to his TIE Advanced X1 and fired a blaster bolt into the fuel puddle surrounding Byron Jerek.

The flames roared to life like a hellish rising tide. Amid the symphony of screams emanating from the young Rebel pilot, Prolov broke into a brilliant smile.

Phasma exhaled when the last image of the recording froze in place before disappearing. She shook her head and stood up. In a way, it disturbed her. But the other half of her soul, the portion of the beautiful woman with a heart of cruelty and savagery, had enjoyed every second of it. A kindred soul had finally been found for that part of her.

And what of the paradox of souls like the Jerek twins who were so hated by allies and enemies alike that they were simultaneously marked for death by both? It was something that she pondered on while remaining silent in the room.

She turned and stepped out into the corridor. Prolov stood solemnly a few meters away from her.

So we are both monsters with our own pasts. She thought while examining him. Interesting that an ally can also become an enemy in a single stroke of time.

“Captain, please follow me to the hangar bay,” Prolov said, gesturing down the corridor. “You have been ordered to return to the Finalizer.”

A hooded figure darted into the shadows between buildings in the city’s manufacturing sector. Movements of white armor gave away the patrols walking the main thoroughfare. The figure pressed against the stone structure of a building and slowed his breathing. He kept his eyes on the First Order Stormtroopers as they continued.

Suddenly, they paused. He pressed harder against the cold stone covered with moisture in the crisp night. He drew a small blaster from underneath his cloak.

“The platoon we are leaving behind is in place,” a sergeant said, standing at attention before a stormtrooper in dark blue armor. “Our transports are standing by at the platforms, sir.”

“Good work, sergeant,” the stormtrooper officer replied. “No need to risk our resources here any longer. Move out to the platforms!”

Several squads of stormtroopers formed behind the captain and followed him down the street. The hooded figure sighed in relief and slipped out of his hiding place. He turned down a tight alley to his right. Near the end, a metallic grate built into the lower portion of a building shimmered in the light of the three moons hovering in the night sky.

He approached the grate and pressed a ring on his right hand into a small circular depression on the corner of the grate. It slid open, allowing him to drop in. The grate moved back into place above him. He quickly proceeded down the long narrow corridor. His feet splashing through the centimeters-deep water echoed as he moved swiftly toward a closed door at the end of the tunnel.

The door swished open when he drew near. He moved up the trio of steps to the upper chamber and paused before another closed blast door.

“You’re barely on time, my friend,” a gruff voice said through the comlink on the door facing. “Please enter, as we have much to discuss.”

The figure moved through the door and pulled back his hood, revealing the young face of a man at least eighteen standard years of age. He ran his fingers through his auburn hair and looked up at the older man with dark skin and graying black hair standing at the opposite end of the room.

“Commander Marvick, have you heard that the First Order devils are leaving our system?” the young man asked.

Marvick nodded. “Yes, but they will still have a presence among our people. They are dispatching a platoon of stormtroopers. Combined with the conscripts that betrayed our beloved Captain Daryn Jerek, they will still be a formidable force, Aden.”

The young Aden shrugged. “How can you be sure we can trust the men we have left? What’s to keep them from siding with the First Order?”

Marvick chuckled and stroked his beard. “My friend, do not underestimate them just because they are my age or older. They will never betray us. Besides, we have a little insurance that will give us all an edge.”

Aden shook his head. “I’m afraid I’m not following you, sir.”

Marvick pulled a circular holoprojector from his pocket and activated it. The image of eight Imperial Star Destroyers appeared.

“An old friend has returned,” he replied. “When we join with his forces, we will retake our world.”

“It’s going to take more than eight relics to keep the First Order away, sir,” the young man said while staring at the images.

Marvick smiled at the young man. “Youthfulness always places the old into the category of obsolescence. I once thought that way until I met Admiral Garren Prolov. My perspective changed, and yours will too, my young friend.”

“Supreme Leader, we will soon see which of them is a traitor,” Allegiant General Pryde stated as he bowed before the massive hologram of Snoke. “I have assigned them tremendous tasks that will assess their character.”

Snoke furrowed his brow. “I commend you on your work, Allegiant General. Have either of them begun to follow through on your instructions?”

Pryde looked up at Snoke. “They have, Supreme Leader. Jerek is in the final stages of withdrawing his forces from Maruun Three. And Hux has sent a shuttle with TIE escorts to rendezvous with Prolov’s ship, Apollyon.”

Snoke exhaled and sat back on his throne. “Perfect. See to it that when treachery is exposed, actions are immediately undertaken to eliminate the guilty parties.”

Pryde raised an eyebrow. “Guilty parties, sir? Are we to entertain the possibility of more than one traitor? I assumed it would either be Jerek or Hux.”

Snoke narrowed his eyes. “Treachery rarely is confined to a particular number, General. Where one moves, others follow in the shadows. Jerek and Hux could gain a distinct advantage from aligning with Prolov.”

“Which brings me to another matter, Supreme Leader,” Pryde said, maintaining the rigid expression on his face. “I attempted to plant a seed of doubt in Jerek and Hux’s minds concerning Prolov. I revealed to them our discovery of eight missing Imperial Star Destroyers from our mothball fleets. It seemed to strike both of them.”

“Do not make the error of believing that information will be a concern for either of them,” Snoke warned with a booming voice. “They can easily turn that tactic against you, General Pryde. So can Admiral Prolov.”

Pryde’s expression lightened as he nodded. “I will proceed with caution, Supreme Leader. And I assure you that I know well not to cross a man like Admiral Garren Prolov. However, have we had any indication that the New Republic has learned of his reappearance?”

“If they have, then they have shown no evidence of knowing,” Snoke replied. His face morphed into a sneer. “And I will hold you responsible if you do anything that allows them to learn of it before I can use Prolov’s fleet and resources against them and the Resistance.”

“I understand,” Pryde said, grimacing after mentally analyzing Snoke’s warning. “I will do everything within my abilities to prevent them from knowing until the appointed time.”

“Good decision, General,” Snoke said. “Go and oversee monitoring Hux and Jerek’s responses to the situation. Report to me as soon as their betrayals of the First Order are evident.”

Pryde rose and offered a quick bow. “Consider it done, Supreme Leader.”