(You, sir, are a genius. Gold star.)
Our forces in the cannon's power station gather closely together as a blue light swirls around them. A moment later, they appear safely on Xenta. Not many are here, compared with the number of troops we landed on Brullant, but they are here.
Our other battlecruiser, still in orbit, notices a substantial buildup of energy on the planet. Moments later, four explosions of similar apocalyptic scope as the last rock the planet. For a few moments, all scanners and sensors are overwhelmed, and the light is too bright to watch, even through a nictitating membrane and three feet of polarized transparent steel.
When it is over, Brullant is no longer a proper planet. Its core is bare, ejecting pressurized magma into space, where chunks of its crust hover. Some float rebelliously away from the dying planet. Others hover, uncertain of whether to return home or strike out as a new moon. Still others dive back to where they once sat, their impacts unwittingly intensifying the death throes of the world.
This world is no more. Even if, by some miracle, VoidGate's minions had dodged the explosions that tore the surface of the planet free, they would have been pulverized by the tectonic events that continue to end this celestial body.
VoidGate is no more. Its threat is ended. Our victory is final.
(Talk about going out with a bang, guys! Next week, we can find out what the rest of the galaxy has been doing while we terminated the terminators)
(Also, I'm formally apologizing to the archivists. Obviously, I just don't understand the newfangled sorting algorithm. My bad, guys. Keep up the good work)