**Chapter 758: Guardian of the Sparkling Diamond**
**Scene 1: Bridge of the Devastation – Ord Mantell System**
Dagon Marek stood motionless at the center of the *Devastation's* bridge, eyes closed beneath the durasteel mask. Around him, the crew moved with quiet efficiency as the fleet prepared for the jump to Mygeeto. The girls remained close — Ahsoka and Zule on his left, Miaria's tail curled lightly around his wrist, Atroxa and Talon standing guard on his right, while Aubrie monitored the medical readouts from his recent recovery.
*On the one hand, it might seem like we were doing nothing,* Dagon thought, *but that was the whole point of Combat Meditation.*
Anticipate danger. Calculate possible courses of action. Then subtly convey all of this to your subordinates. It wasn't telepathy or mental messages — quite the opposite. It was so gentle that most intelligent beings never noticed it. They simply felt… prompted. A sudden surge of confidence. A premonition. A gut feeling that this maneuver, this timing, this decision was *right*.
In reality, Battle Meditation was like a neural network built on the Force itself — far beyond any artificial intelligence. A neural net could process billions of operations per second and run every possible scenario. But Battle Meditation didn't just help find the right decision. It allowed glimpses of the future.
In fencing, that window might be a few seconds. For experienced Force users, up to a minute. With Battle Fusion — uniting several gifted individuals — Dagon could see events three to five minutes ahead. Everything depended on concentration and the severity of the threat.
Of course, it couldn't be used constantly. They could have begun Meditation ten minutes ago and foreseen everything. But they wouldn't have been able to react to something like a corvette's failed hyperspace exit. The system lacked real-time communication with ships still in hyperspace — it was too cumbersome. According to all historical sources, Battle Meditation was meant for active combat. Before conflict, especially in hyperspace, it was nearly useless. But *after*…
Until now, Dagon had only used it at a fraction of its potential — coordinating ships and beings to anticipate dangers or optimal actions. Battle Fusion helped with targeted interventions. But today, perhaps, it was time to use it fully: inspiring allies and intimidating enemies.
He opened his eyes. "All ships, prepare for hyperspace jump on my mark. Maintain formation delta-three. We strike hard, we strike fast."
The subtle weave of Battle Meditation spread outward through the fleet like invisible threads. Officers felt sudden clarity. Gunners adjusted targeting solutions with uncanny intuition. Pilots in their cockpits experienced a surge of calm confidence.
"Jump," Dagon commanded.
The fleet vanished into hyperspace.
**Scene 2: Mygeeto System – Arrival**
The *Devastation* battle group emerged from hyperspace in perfect formation, catching the CIS defenders completely off guard. Alarms blared across Mygeeto's orbital defenses as thousands of Vulture droids began launching from their carriers.
Dagon's voice echoed across the command channel, calm and resonant through the open Battle Meditation. "All wings, deploy. Central force, advance on the defense stations. Left and right wings, engage the enemy fleet. Light strike elements, hit their rear. Guardian systems online — now."
The *Devastation* took position in the second line of the central force, flanked by twenty Assault Frigates and six Valiant-class Star Destroyers, supported by several Lancer frigates. To the left and right, strike lines under Admirals Chapter and Etain Clairmur formed up — each with four Invincible-class Dreadnoughts, eight Venators, and cruiser-modified Encouragers, backed by Arquitens command cruisers. Directly behind was the landing formation — twenty-six Dauntless-class Accumulators covered by Nebulas and Bloodlight carriers. The bulk of the light forces — Consulars, Marauders, and gunboats — had already slipped far behind enemy lines at multiple points.
A vast swarm of TIE bombers and heavy fighters surged forward alongside the main advance. Turbolaser batteries across the fleet opened fire, the ships moving inexorably toward the enemy.
Their plan had worked. They had caught the CIS by surprise.
Now came the hard part: dealing with the Vulture swarms.
**Scene 3: Guardian Activation**
"All carriers, deploy Guardian systems," Dagon ordered, hoping the experimental network would perform as simulated.
Ship after ship linked into the datanet. With each new connection, capabilities expanded. Additional sensor clusters and targeting computers poured their processing power into a single purpose. Incoming enemy craft were cataloged, scanned, and assigned targeting priority in milliseconds.
Point-defense turrets rotated smoothly. Automatic routines verified alignment. Missile launchers opened, birds hot in their tubes. Auto-loaders cycled, ready to reload once magazines ran dry. Then new contacts pinged the network — thousands of them, all eager to join the defense. Newly deployed weapon platforms sent their telemetry, adding their considerable firepower to the Guardian gestalt.
Firing solutions refined. Kill zones established. The fleet maneuvered to give clear lanes for the maximum number of PD emplacements.
Seconds passed.
Then it happened — the reason Guardian existed.
It started as a trickle. The leading edges of the enemy armada crossed into engagement range. With each passing moment, more and more Vultures plunged deeper into the system's kill envelope.
A signal flashed across the network. If the collective gestalt of Guardian systems could smile, it would have.
The order was given.
Missiles by the thousands flushed from their racks. Different fleet elements staggered their launches so no ordinance wasted itself intercepting the same target. An outside observer would have lost sight of the Republic fleet, its ships drowned in the brilliant light of countless ion engines.
The Vultures — both fighter and bomber variants — broke into wild evasive maneuvers. Just as expected. Carefully arranged formations shattered before a single weapon struck.
Most of the Vultures slowed their approach, their tempo disrupted. Salvo after salvo raced into the oncoming swarms. Some droid fighters danced in abrupt, chaotic spins. Others continued straight ahead, laser cannons blazing. No matter how small and nimble they were, missiles began dying in the raw volume of defensive fire before their guiding systems shifted into higher gear, weaving into unpredictable patterns.
The void of space was empty no more. A corona of exploding ordinance, blaster fire, and torn, shredded Vultures surrounded the Republic fleet. For a few minutes, it held steady — the leading edges of the fighter swarms simply disintegrating, massacred by the missile barrage.
But it couldn't last. There were simply too many small craft hungry for Republic blood. The halo of shrapnel and broken hulls began shrinking, closing in on the fleet. Missile salvos continued slamming into the swarms faster and faster as the distance decreased.
Another invisible line was crossed.
Emerald beams lanced outward from the fleet, blasting scores of fighters apart. Volley after volley followed, each larger and more potent than the last. Yet the Vultures followed their programming, charging straight into the teeth of the Republic defenses, heedless of losses.
Dagon's voice cut through the chaos on the command channel, amplified by Battle Meditation. "Hold formation. Guardian is holding. Focus fire on the heavier concentrations. We break their back here."
The *Devastation* itself opened up with its full broadside. XX-9 heavy turbolasers and quad batteries tore through entire flights of Vultures. Nearby Assault Frigates added their upgraded firepower, turning the space ahead into a killing field.
Through the meld, Dagon felt the confidence surge across every bridge and cockpit. Pilots anticipated enemy maneuvers by seconds. Gunners adjusted aim before targets even entered their sights. The fleet moved as one living organism — deadly, coordinated, and unrelenting.
The Vulture swarm faltered.
Dagon allowed himself a thin smile beneath the mask.
The battle for Mygeeto had truly begun.