The Giant Corporations that Started in Night City

Chapter 349: Death Star Data Secured! Assault Begins! Space Opera Unleashed!

"Damn rebels! How dare they collude with extra-galactic heretics to undermine the Empire's interests! I'll cleanse the ranks in the name of the Supreme Chancellor!"

Darth Rigg gripped his lightsaber tightly, eyes locked on Chani's movements.

That theory was the only one that made sense. If Paul and Chani weren't Force users, then they must be vessels for some other form of energy.

The universe was vast—nothing was truly impossible. As an Inquisitor of the Empire, Rigg had heard rumors of mysterious powers beyond the galactic rim.

Over the years, Palpatine had spared no effort consolidating the galaxy's factions and enhancing military strength in his quest to uncover relics of the extra-galactic god-era civilizations.

But for a trace of an extra-galactic civilization to appear within the galaxy—and even disguise itself as human—infuriated Darth Rigg.

Chani remained indifferent, ignoring his accusations. Her only focus was to stall him and buy Paul more time.

In the next moment, their blades clashed again, the fierce impact sending brilliant sparks flying. Rigg could clearly feel the force behind her strikes had grown even stronger.

Trained in swordsmanship by Paul, Chani held the edge in pure dueling experience. Her technique was sharp and refined, and her body had been enhanced through spice development.

This allowed her to hold her ground against Darth Rigg's onslaught.

Meanwhile, atop the Imperial data archive server terminal, Paul was watching as massive amounts of information were rapidly copied and transmitted to physical hardware.

The transfer was only halfway complete. During this critical window, Paul had to ensure the transmission wasn't interrupted—any disruption could result in critical data loss.

Outside the citadel, the battle had entered its latter stage. As ammunition ran low and Imperial reinforcements arrived in force, the clone strike team had shifted from offense to defense, retreating into the forest to harass and delay the enemy.

This shift stabilized the situation within Scarif. The Imperial forces soon realized that the number of attackers was surprisingly small—virtually negligible.

What had seemed like a full-scale assault was merely an illusion created by the clones' indiscriminate bombardment, spending ammunition without concern.

Now, with their weapons nearly exhausted and no resupply possible from orbit, the clone team's firepower had waned. They could no longer maintain the same intensity of bombardment.

But their mission was already accomplished. A large portion of the garrison had been lured away from the tower fortress, creating the perfect infiltration window for Paul and Chani.

Without this crucial distraction, Paul could never have broken through the layers of security to reach the Imperial databanks.

At that moment, inside the command center atop the fortress, Director Orson Krennic finally sensed something was off.

From the overwhelming initial assault to the current dwindling attack—everything pointed to a feint. But if it was a diversion, where was the real target?

His answer came just as a communications officer alerted him to abnormalities in the database.

"Sir! The enemy has infiltrated the data core! Inquisitor Darth Rigg is currently engaging the intruders with the Death Troopers!"

"Damn rebels—!"

Krennic snapped to attention. Realization hit him like a bolt—he had fallen for a classic diversion tactic. He immediately barked out an order:

"Destroy all data—everything! Leave nothing behind!"

"We cannot allow Imperial secrets to fall into rebel hands!"

But the technician at the database terminal was already panicking.

"Sir, our system has been breached by an unknown intrusion—we can't access the data core remotely anymore. Our only option now is to physically destroy the hardware!"

"Then do it now!"

Krennic roared. If the Death Star's blueprints—or worse, the incomplete schematics for the Starkiller Base—were leaked to the rebels, Palpatine would have his head on a pike.

Back in the Imperial security archive, the data transfer hit 100% just as the upper access doors were blasted open.

A flood of stormtroopers poured in and, without a word, opened fire on the servers in a wild barrage.

Krennic's orders were clear: destroy the data—physically, if necessary.

As long as the hardware was rendered irreparably damaged, the information it held would be unrecoverable.

Thankfully, the megacorp-grade hardware proved resilient enough to finish the full data upload just before the stormtroopers arrived.

Had they come any sooner, the transmission might have been cut midway—wasting everything.

Now, Paul no longer had to worry about the servers. All that mattered was getting the data-laden hardware safely back to headquarters.

Blaster bolts rained down, lighting up the server room in a storm of sparks. Arcs of electricity danced from severed wires, the smell of scorched circuits filling the air.

At this rate, the whole databank might blow.

Paul quickly drew his lightsaber and burst into action. With blinding speed and dazzling technique, he moved like a phantom, cutting through the enemy ranks.

The hiss of lightsaber through armor and flesh mixed with the thunder of blaster fire. Within moments, the first wave of stormtroopers lay in shredded heaps.

The metal walls bore the scars of plasma and saber, molten gouges glowing red-hot. Severed limbs, charred remains, and acrid smoke filled the room.

No longer bothering to fake being a Jedi, Paul unleashed his full ferocity. His strikes were no longer restrained—each one was fatal, a deadly blur of motion.

As the next wave of stormtroopers charged in, Paul locked eyes with them, his voice booming:

"Kneel!"

The sheer force of his sonic command stunned the troopers for several seconds.

That was all he needed.

Within those precious seconds, Paul tore through the immobilized soldiers, cutting them down with ruthless precision.

This was the terror of a close-combat caster—a swordmaster whose blows came with crowd control. After spice-enhanced training, Paul had mastered sonic manipulation to a terrifying degree.

His vocal power now rivaled, if not surpassed, that of the Bene Gesserit Matron, Helen. Against these Force-less grunts, they were helpless.

"Mission complete. Time to fall back!"

Paul slashed a hole through the wall with his lightsaber and called out to Chani. Then, without hesitation, he leapt from the towering citadel.

His fall was slowed by an anti-gravity device strapped to his body, allowing him to land safely on the surface.

Outside Scarif's planetary shield, massive Imperial fleets were converging: Star Destroyers, the Executor, and even the Death Star itself were en route.

This infiltration was reaching its endgame—and the only question now was whether Paul and Chani could escape alive.

Up in the tower, Chani received Paul's signal. With a flurry of thrusts, she forced Darth Rigg back several steps and dove through the nearby breach.

Watching them escape, Rigg seethed with rage, itching to chase them down—but without an anti-grav rig, a leap from that height would be suicide.

At this point, the clone squad had all but run out of ammo. They were forced to scavenge Imperial weapons just to keep fighting—but in doing so, they lost their greatest advantage: superior equipment.

After all, compared to the weapons of the Megacorp, the difference was like that between divine artifacts and crude firewood.

But the clone squad had never expected to return alive—they were cannon fodder from the start.

Their sacrifice had bought Paul all the time he needed. It was enough to ensure that their serial numbers would forever be recorded in the Megacorp's databanks.

Soon, a column of AT-ST walkers stormed into the jungle battlefield, flattening the dense undergrowth beneath them. Soldiers were either crushed underfoot or torn in half by heavy gunfire.

Three minutes later, the entire clone squad was wiped out.

———

High above Scarif's orbit, Megatron checked the mission countdown. Only two minutes remained before the time he and Paul had agreed upon.

According to intel from the Megacorp's AI drone scouts, Imperial reinforcements were pouring in. Whether Paul had secured the critical data or not, it looked like a battle was inevitable.

"Prepare to activate the engines and load all ship-based weapon systems. Time to make our move."

At Megatron's command, the fleet's tactical AI began pre-launch procedures, ready to commence a full-scale assault on Scarif at a moment's notice.

But just as the timer ticked down to the final 25-minute mark, Megatron spotted a new development—another faction was arriving in Scarif's orbit.

A massive fleet of Rebel Alliance X-wing fighters and Hammerhead-class light corvettes burst out of hyperspace, approaching Scarif in a dramatic power drift.

For a faction like the Rebel Alliance, with minimal space-based assets, this assault was essentially an all-in gamble.

If they lost this fleet, the Rebellion would be crushed under the Empire's air superiority for the foreseeable future.

Unfortunately, at this stage, most corporate backers still had little faith in the Rebel Alliance's ability to win a war.

The golden rule of "back the winner" applied across every multiversal system—and especially to savvy capitalists.

Unless the Rebellion started bleeding the Empire and making Palpatine feel the pain, no major investors would be throwing money their way.

As the Rebel Alliance fleet arrived, the Megacorp's shipboard AI locked onto and connected with their communications channel. A tense voice crackled through:

[This is Admiral Raddus of the Rebel Alliance. All units, report your status immediately!]

Hearing that it was the Rebels who had shown up took both David and Megatron by surprise.

Apparently, the Alliance had truly begun to see Paul as one of their own.

They hadn't even had time to assemble a proper formation—they'd rushed to Scarif as soon as they caught wind of Paul's infiltration.

"Begin the assault."

David checked the countdown—right on the mark. Twenty-five minutes had passed, and now three factions converged on Scarif:

The Megacorp.

The Galactic Empire.

The Rebel Alliance.

[Yes, sir!]

Receiving David's order, Megatron led the charge. The massive dreadnought finally disengaged its cloaking field and surged toward Scarif.

Now, with the Rebel fleet drawing the Empire's attention, the dreadnought had the perfect opportunity to launch a direct assault on the planetary shield generator.

Moments later, the Rebel fleet struck first, opening fire on the Imperial Star Destroyers. An intense battle erupted in orbit.

Imperial reinforcements continued to stream in. Swarms of TIE fighters poured from the hangars of Star Destroyers.

Both sides unleashed their squadrons like swarms of angry hornets, tangling in brutal dogfights. Fighters exploded in fiery bursts as their engines were struck and detonated.

Meanwhile, Rebel corvettes took potshots at the planetary shield array on Scarif—but their firepower was simply too weak.

It was like tossing pebbles into a vast lake—barely enough to stir a few ripples on the shield's surface.

What had started as a covert ground op had escalated into a full-blown space war—one that now looked like a massive planetary battle was brewing.

Back on the surface, Imperial ground forces were still scouring the jungle for the clone squad and Paul, determined to eliminate the intruders.

As one AT-ST walker trampled through a narrow stretch of jungle, a figure suddenly descended from above, landing squarely in the middle of the Imperial formation.

A flash of azure light—then the head of the walker, including the cockpit, twin heavy blasters, and twin rapid-fire guns—was sliced clean off.

The severed module crashed to the ground like a massive boulder, flattening over a dozen unfortunate stormtroopers below.

The attacker was Paul.

Using his anti-gravity flight module, he had glided across the jungle canopy and struck just as a squad of stormtroopers came dangerously close to spotting him.

On the other side of the forest, Chani had also broken through the encirclement, rushing to regroup with Paul.

Her expression darkened as she passed the scattered remains of fallen clones. She wasn't one to mourn cannon fodder—but their absence meant one thing:

There was no one left to draw fire or buy time.

From here on, it would be just her and Paul—facing the full might of the Imperial stormtroopers head-on.

"We were too slow. They're all gone," Chani said softly.

"No," Paul replied. "Everything's right on time. Our backup just started moving."

He looked skyward. The clear blue skies above began to shimmer with growing ripples—concentric waves spreading out in all directions.

They were the visible signs of impacts on the planetary shield array.

Sure enough, the sudden commotion above drew the attention of the Imperial troops below. The stormtroopers looked up to see Rebel ships unleashing focused attacks on the shield.

They began to panic.

Even though no sound could pass through the atmospheric barrier, the ripples of impact on the shield dome were plainly visible to the naked eye.

Above, Rebel X-wings and Imperial TIE fighters continued their deadly ballet. Blue, red, and green laser bolts crisscrossed the vast expanse of space—

—as if performing an epic, chaotic, cosmic opera.

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