Tarkins Fist (SW Empire Vs Earth) Complete Story

[Kalanidavidg]

Command Bridge, Imperial I-class SD Wilderness, Equatorial Orbit, Earth

"Greetings, Ambassador. Your beauty and intelligence as always defy your youth." Moff Seco gave an elegant bow that would have been the practice in the days of the Old Republic, but just served to amuse Phasma as she came onto the command bridge of the Ploo Moff's flagship. Obviously, Seco was in a grand mood this morning. "I have arranged for quite an exhibition in honor of your visit today." Seco's flattery was of course largely an exaggeration as this operation had been planned for several weeks.

"Are your forces in place for the attack?" She asked as the Moff slowly led her to the viewports of the bridge. Outside the Wilderness she sighted the warships of Seco's Ploo Sector Fleet, including three other Imperial I-class star destroyers besides the Wilderness, fourteen Victory-class capital ships, as well as seven old Acclamator I troopships. It was an impressive force under most circumstances. Unfortunately, Phasma had clearance to reports that told of just how empty their tibanna gas bunkers were. In fact almost all of their supply had been ionized for this one attack.

"We are waiting until we cross over onto the night side of the planet, so that we may view and judge the results of the attack with better clarity. Several of the urban areas of the planet resemble some of the more rural areas of Imperial Center, and it is there that my gunners expect to see the most noticeable results." Phasma looked ahead of the warship and watched the darkening horizon of the planet below. It wouldn't be much longer before the Moff would be occupied with the details of the ion assault.

"Has there been any reaction from the Earth nations to our presence. The Fleet Admiral wouldn't be too happy if I was caught in a counter-attack." Phasma warned. She had started to exert her presence with the Moffs as of late in an attempt to circumnavigate any of their attempts to use her against her father.

"Several missile attacks were launched as your Nu shuttle was landing. Akul Squadron from the Babel was launched and successfully intercepted sixteen of the slower weapons. I think we've exhausted their space-based defenses."

"Fleet Intelligence says they have a large stockpile being held in reserve. Captain Yutu told me himself that they were dealt
quite the set back with our capture of their lunar base and the destruction of their defensive satellites." Phasma countered.

"Well this attack will set them back even further." Seco was undaunted.

"I've heard you had reservations about this attack when Operations Director Dual suggested it to the Fleet Admiral. Why was that?" Phasma asked as she watched the Bloodshed and the Drive Victory-class destroyers race ahead to their selected targets well to the lead of the rest of Seco's squadron.

"That's correct. Standard operating procedures of Imperial Navy Operations has always called for a preliminary orbital bombardment of a planet's military forces and bases, before any attack is launched on their infrastructure and production capabilities. The attack on the Insertion only strengthened my objection. Your father however convinced me that this mission had its merits, and that the dangers were minimal. Besides the token attack earlier, it seems the Earthlings are watching and waiting for our next move."

"So you anticipate a successful attack?"

"Every one of the fourteen hundred and fifty eight targets on Captain Yutu's list will be hit and knocked off line. You have my assurance on that." Seco sneered.

"Excellent. There is another matter that the Bureau of Operations wanted to address with you." Phasma changed the subject.

"I'm sure there are many areas your father's 'Bureau' wants to address with me. Don't get me wrong I see the purpose to having such a system running the day to day management of the fleet and the Martian colony, but they do lend an overly stifling military presence to everything. You yourself are the chief ambassador, a civilian position, yet you hold the rank of Second Lieutenant within the fleet's military. A conflict of interests don't you agree." Seco had a way of hiding his defects by focusing on those of beings around him.

"That is something for another time perhaps. What I was talking about was your acquisition of nine Vratix researchers from Kuat's orbital laboratory the Advancement. These personnel included one queen and eighteen droids of the Thyferren species, and the only beings of their type anywhere within Tarkin's Fist. Moff Kuat is highly upset over the matter as he had hopes of using the Vratix for advanced bacta research. He wishes to communicate with them so that he may counteroffer whatever deal you made with the hive. The Bureau has also noticed the recent purchase of a large tract of land outside of Culter City where your troops erected several large greenhouses and have staffed them with the Vratix personnel." Phasma slowed for air.

"So far you haven't mentioned anything of a criminal nature, and my dealings with the Vratix have been purely business." Seco couldn't help but grin. Several of his officers tried to get his attention, but he gave them nonverbal cues to continue with the attack's preparations.

"We have noticed that your new greenhouses seem to be aimed mainly at the production of Xoorzi fungi. As I am sure you are aware Xoorzi fungi are the sole means to produce alazhi bacteria which is one of two key ingredients in the production of bacta. The other one is Kavam which is a chemical secreted by the Vratix species. The Fleet Admiral is wondering whether or not you are trying to create a monopoly on bacta within this new galaxy."

"It is ironic that your father is concerned about others starting their own monopolies, while he is the only one responsible for fuel and tibanna production in this system. He has set up Kuat as sole source of new research while Moff Cutler has been inadvertently made into some type of land baron. I saw a future demand and sought to fill it." Seco was unapologetic.

"That's simply isn't the way the Empire does business. You know perfectly well that the Emperor has confined all production of bacta to Thyferra. You are in violation of several Imperial decrees and treaties."

"As I've heard often enough in our time here, there's not much of an Empire out here. Tell your father he needs to stop hiding behind the Emperor's ghost, and admit that he has command of a totally separate entity from the Empire. He is in fact an 'Emperor' of sorts. You can inform him I will not cease my production of bacta or other medicinal drugs, and that I am hereby requesting an Imperial Charter from his authority." Phasma was shocked. She had expected the Moff to step down, but instead the situation had turned into one where her father would have to step up. "This fleet needs an Emperor, and they will find someone to fill that post one way or another." Phasma detected an underlying threat in the Moff's warning.

"Indeed. I will convey your request to the Fleet Admiral. I am sure the fleet's supply of bacta is inefficient for upcoming operations as well as other medical narcotics as well." Phasma conceded.

"It will be. I've looked into it and the Earthlings haven't got anything close to bacta, but what they do have is an over abundance of disease on their little mud ball. I almost recommended to the Fleet Admiral that we simply quarantine the planet and write it off." Seco suggested.

"But then where would the Martian colony receive its labor force. We still haven't started planned large scale fleet production, which will take up the majority of our present workforce, as well as hypermatter manufacturing, agricultural production, terra forming of Earth 2, and several moons of Earth 5 and Earth 6, and of course deep space exploration aimed at a successful return to the Empire some day." Phasma explained.

"Sadly, that is the truth. We need them, however unfortunate that may be. It is time they started learning their place." Seco turned to a high ranking naval officer nearby. "Admiral Neptu what is our status?"
"All starships are in position over the eastern hemisphere of the planet and are standing by for your directive, Sir." Seco's squadron admiral reported.

"What are the first targets on our list?" The Imperial Governor queried.

"Several nuclear plants in an area called France and England, as well as some secondary targets of power distribution facilities in the same area. You may want to draw your attention to that well lit island off of the mainland there, Sir." The admiral pointed to a large landmass outside of the viewport. Phasma could make out several cities and settlements filling the indicated territory below.

"You may fire when ready, Admiral." Seco ordered, and the officer turned and gave a series of commands to the crew in the pit below. Phasma watched as the two forward batteries opened up with a blue hued ion charged blaster bolts that surged through the atmosphere towards the planet. Several other nearby warships opened up with their own ion cannons at pre-sited targets. They were too high in orbit to witness the impacts, but Phasma clearly saw their immediate effects.
The lights of the cities below flickered on and off, before the island and large swaths of the mainland were plunged into darkness. She felt the exhilaration of a mission with an excellent start. Warships around the fleet blasted the earth with the NK-7 ion cannons seated in their forward main turret mounts. The blackout across the surface spread so thoroughly that soon the only way Phasma could tell what was land and sea below was from the lights from ships on the ocean and long lines caused by the headlights of thousands of earth landspeeders below. Other than that, the western portion of the main continental mass was entering a new dark age.

"Reports are coming in of successful attacks on the African continent to the south of this one. The squadron is now moving out over the smaller ocean. The Butcher has already engaged a target on the eastern shore of the Union of South American Nations." The Admiral reported.

"Coming in range of the eastern shore of the NAU and the Caribbean Sea Zone." The deck officer announced. Phasma saw the brightly lit shoreline shining like a bejeweled necklace in the distance. Suddenly several sections blinked out at once.

"Sir the enemy is trying to black out their cities in some sort of camouflage effort." The Admiral relayed.

"A lot of good it'll do them. Fire at the arranged targets." Seco ordered, and once again the ion batteries ripped open the space around the warship as their blasts raced to coal, solar, nuclear, hydroelectric, and even wind plants across the nations below. Phasma watched as another continent was plunged into darkness. She felt genuine sorrow for the beings living in the bright city glow in the desert region of the NAU , especially as powerful ion bursts destroyed the hydroelectric dams providing them power and releasing millions of gallons of water to wipe out further survivors of the attacks.

"TIE/WACs, SigInt, and CommScan are all reporting dramatic decreases in transmissions from the stricken areas." The deck officer piped in.

"Successful strike of the Panama Canal Target." The Admiral added. "Weapon systems are at thirty percent capacity in their tibanna bunkers."

"Save what we have for the Asia and Australia Target Zones then Admiral. I believe the NAU isn't a going concern anymore." The fleet stayed with the night side of the planet and slowly made its way over the largest ocean of the Earth. Phasma couldn't remember its name off of the top of her head. She tried to keep the proper regal bearing of the Chief Ambassador of the Tarkin's Fist, but she had to fight against her eleven year old instincts to turn away from the destruction below.

"We have sighting of a large hydroelectric dam in the People's Republic of China coming apart. It has released a huge volume of water in its wake, Sir. We have a Lancer frigate taking a closer look, but initial estimates are putting the death toll at a quarter million. Phasma's heart ached and she suddenly wished her father was here besides her, assuring her that the murder below was being committed for a good purpose. She saw Seco was studying her, and quickly composed herself, when she looked at him again he seemed not to have noticed anything odd about her.

The fleet took six hour to complete its slow ion attack, and it had left a darkened Earth in its wake. Moff Seco escorted her back to her Nu shuttle for her return trip to Mars. "You will of course, recall the success of our attack to your father. I'm sure he will be pleased. My squadron will be returning to the fourth planet shortly, as well. We can't stick around for very long with our ammunition depleted. We've knocked out their power, not their military."

"I will tell him. I will also remember to convey your request on the bacta issue. I must say, I agree with your side over my father. I almost think you've taken the Earthling's notions of free enterprise too much to heart, however." Phasma smiled at the Moff.

"Yes, perhaps you are correct." The Moff took her hand and kissed the top of it before she turned and started up the ramp of her shuttle. "Oh, and Phasma that statement I mentioned about your rank. I do think the measly rank of a Second Lieutenant is well beneath the status of the Chief Ambassador of the fleet. You should mention something about that to your father as well." She thanked him as the ramp closed tightly shut.


El Cajon, Upper California, Nau, Earth

Pedro dug.

Hour after hour he kept at it underneath his home while his two young boys hauled the dirt away in his family's wheelbarrow. They piled up the earth alongside the sides of his one story house in the suburbs.

The lights and power had been out for nine days now, and rumors around the city were that they weren't coming back anytime soon. The only glow in the night sky these days came from the giant portable stadium lighting the Navy had set up around their shipyards down in the harbor, and several Army and Marine Corps searchlights that probed the skies for alien fighters that never showed.

Aliens were the least of Pedro's worries. His boys were still a few years short of enlistment age for the military, but it was the gangs that worried him. All day long he listened as distant gunshots rumbled from all over the valley. Even if you found a working phone these days it was highly unlikely the police would respond anyways.
During the night his wife and boys would gather all the food and water they had and huddle in the ever expanding bunker he was building under his home. He was hoping to have enough room to get his two German Sheppards in with them by nightfall.

During a break he stood in his front yard with his rifle strapped across his back. These days it wasn't an odd sight, as everyone went around armed to the teeth, claiming they were ready for when the aliens invaded. Several other neighbors were busy digging shelters of there own.

Pedro gave them suspicious looks and reassured himself that his wife had hid their food and supplies well enough. He dreaded another trip to the food distribution center that the army had set up. Last time he had been there it had been a mob scene after he had waited hours to get in. The Army soldiers there had eyed his sons pretty closely to, which had left him nervous and afraid for different reasons.

Gunshots rang from a couple of blocks away. He was getting pretty good at judging their distance by now. Pedro walked back into his home and removed the boards that covered his family's shelter. It was his duty to keep his family safe from enemies above the Earth as well as those that lived upon it.

Pedro dug.
---------------------------------------------------
The Long Jump Casino's Pub, Culter City, Mars


The slap still stung a bit, Roblin thought as he rubbed his cheek and tried to drown his troubles at the bar. That was the trouble with those Zealot of Psusan girls; they always demanded all of your attention and the second you look at the Twilek working behind the bar they act like he just blasted off one of their solar arrays. Too bad, she was kind of cute, but so was the bartender he figured, as he tried to wave for her attention over the roar of the crowd.

The bar was a huge oval structure that was by far the most popular drinking establishment that had been built in the new city. Its high red pourstone walls were covered in Old Rebublic Limmie team banners and viewscreens that showed sporting events that were a mix of games from the nearby Earth and recorded sports from the Empire. One of the viewscreens projected a limmie game that was being played between teams from different Stormtrooper legions somewhere outside of the city. The players were pretty bundled up against the cold and Roblin could tell they were having some difficulty with the thin air, but it warmed his heart to see a piece of home transferred here. The betting kiosk was only taking wagers on the limmie game and some type of equestrian animal racing from the Earth.

This was the first time Roblin had been granted leave and in Tarkin's Fist, that meant dropping in on Culter City. He could have visited Earth, but he was pretty sure the star destroyers on picket duty near there would shoot him down before he even made it halfway past their oddly-unnamed moon. He'd already lost a good portion of his pay at the Outlander tables, and he thought he should find a female good-luck charm before he tackled the Sabacc or Digisee tables. His pay-grade didn't allow him to even approach the Jhabacc table, even though the females hanging on the high-stake players were good-looking enough for him to want to at least give it a shot.

The club was filled with ear-splitting music that switched back and forth between a Ortolan DJ and a Bith band. All and all, Roblin thought this was his kind of place. He'd have to mention it to the rest of Mynock Squadron when they took leaves of their own.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and was hoping it would be a cute Zeltron piffer looking for a good time when he turned around. Instead he was greeted by the unexpected sight of his wing commander Lieutenant Commander Vertitas. They were dressed the same with heavy grey flight jackets over their black flight suits, though it was hard to stand out in a bar where over half of the patrons were military males and females.

"Enjoying your R & R, Timus?" Vertitas was surprisingly chipper.

"Yes, Sir. Can I buy you a Bantha Blaster or two?" Roblin asked.

Vertitas sidled up to the bar next to him, and Roblin was a bit irked that the pretty Twilek came right over to take his superior's order while he had been trying to get her attention for over five minutes. "I never say no to a free drink." Vertitas answered.

The bartender poured them a pair of drinks while Vertitas informed him that he was in the city on fleet business of his own, and was due back on the Quill in the next few days. "So Sir, what does fleet have you working on down here in Culter City?"

"They've got me on temporary transfer to Kuat's Squadron. I can't really talk about it here, but I can show you, if you don't mind taking a bit of time out from your leave." Roblin looked around, and decided he could miss out on the action at the casino for a little while. A fight at the other end of the bar between a pair of Klatooinians and a big Gran and an Ishi Tib broke out, and Roblin figured it was time to beat a retreat anyways.

"If you want to show me now, just let me finish my drink." Roblin said. The two pilots looked at each other as if in a dare and then proceeded to attempt to down their liquor faster than the other. Vertitas slammed his glass to the bar just a second before Roblin, but slapped the other man on the back to say it wasn't a big deal. Vertitas led him out of the bar and the brightness of the distant sun stung his eyes for a moment. He slid on his pair of glareshades, and wished Moff Culter would hurry up and thicken up the atmosphere of the chilly red planet.

"I've got a landspeeder parked around the corner over there." Vertitas informed him. The Lieutenant Commander led him around the corner and Roblin was greeted by the sight of a shiny red Coruna Limited Edition SX7 Groundspeeder. Roblin let out a long whistle as he admired his reflection in the glossy finish of Vertitas's transport.

"Being a wing commander must be treating you alright." Roblin understated.

"It pays the bills." Vertitas got in the left side driver's seat and unlocked the door for Roblin. A pair of zoosha fabric-wearing human females walking towards the casino slowed and gave the two pilots a long stare that rose Roblin's core body temperature a little.

"You know we could stay awhile." Roblin slyly suggested and indicated the scantily clad females. Vertitas just smiled and pushed the accelerator down. Roblin was immediately pressed back into his seat. They jetted through traffic filled with military repulser-trucks in convoys, civilian landspeeders, and even an AT-TE that was slowing traffic. Vertitas followed a couple of high powered swoops that darted through the jam and quickly made it to the outskirts of the city. They were soon passing kilometers of troop barracks and motor pools stuffed full of imperial walkers, AT-STs, and dozens of other types of vehicles used by the Imperial Army. The sides of the road were suddenly filled with hundreds of Stormtroopers on a long distance road march. "Are we in the military district?" Roblin asked.

"Not really. It's like this all around the city. The Fleet Admiral is pretty serious about this Earth problem. The civilian and commercial sectors sit in the middle of the city around Tarkin Tower, the new HQ of the fleet, and then industrial and military districts ring the city. Beyond that they've got huge new agricultural tracts going up everywhere else out there." Vertitas explained. "The city will sprawl up and out of the Ares Vallis in the next year or two if it keeps growing like it's doing.

"It sounds like business is booming." Roblin suggested as they approached an airfield hanger.

"Yeah, if you could invent a better droid laborer you'd be a millionaire inside of a week. Probably save us the trouble of launching an invasion sometime next year as well."

"That soon?"

"You didn't hear it from me." Vertitas hinted as they pulled up to the hanger. They exited the vehicle and Roblin noted several Stormtroopers in scattered observation towers peering at the two pilots. An E-Web emplacement along with a squad of Kuati Marines in plastoid Stormtrooper armor protected the entrance to the building.

"Tight security, you got around here." Roblin observed.

"All part of the build-up. We have to keep the troops on a war-footing to keep them sharp. Plus we have no idea how good these Earthlings are at spycraft. We could be dealing with a bunch of Bothan-like near-humans for all we know." Vertitas suggested.

"I guess, but how would they kriffing get here?" Roblin underwent a fingerprint and iris scan from a hand held scanner one of the troopers carried. Vertitas did the same even though he seemed to be on a friendly enough footing with the guards.

"That's exactly what we're trying to stop from happening here." Vertitas led the way through the small offices of the hanger. Roblin notices several designers from Seinar Fleet Systems as well as two Verpine beings arguing over a design HoloImage of a weird looking TIE fighter. Roblin wanted to stop and ask about the design, but his superior was racing ahead of him. They enetered the large bay of the hanger and Roblin found himself staring at two side-by-side TIE racks.

The two fighters at the top of the launchers were unlike anything he had ever seen before. His jaw dropped in amazement as he studied the sleek design of both craft. He instantly wanted to jump into one and rip off into the Martian sky. Both of the starfighters had bent solar arrays, but one had wings that angled into sharp points, while the other one had wings that were elongated the entire length of the craft. Neither had weapons fixed yet, but with the tibanna shortage it didn't really matter yet. All that was important was they had ion engines and he could fire one up.

"Captain Roblin here is going to help us make our decision." Vertitas announced to a small group of engineers and designers surrounding the two fighters. "Skunk, you want to show him what we got."

"Sure no problem." A Seinar Fleet Systems designer, evidently Skunk, agreed. He was a little guy, with wild hair and a thick Fondorian accent, and dressed in grey SFS overalls stained with grease in several areas. "We are designing and testing the next generation of fighter craft in the TIE series for the Tarkin's Fist fleet. We've narrowed down our choices to these two prototypes." He indicated the TIEs on the racks.

"What are they called?" Roblin asked.

"This one we're calling the TIE/In Interceptor." He indicated the fighter with the angled wings. "It's got a SFS P-s5.6 twin ion engines rated at 175 KTU and SFS I-s3a solar ionization reactor, plus upgrades in its targeting computer, sensor, navigating and avionics. Its also got itself a titanium alloy hull."

"Impressive. It even has a nasty pirate look about it." Roblin observed.

"All part of the Tarkin Doctrine, Captain. The other snubnose doesn't have a sleek name yet. We're just calling it the TIE Advanced x1. It's got the same engine and reactor, but we've added some fancy options with it as well. It's got hyperspace drive and deflector shields inside of its elongated durasteel hull. We were hoping you and the Lieutenant Commander could take them out for a test flight. We're very interested in learning new data on both of their atmospheric flight capabilities."

Vertitas nudged his arm. "What do you say, Timus, want to play a game of follow the leader?"

"Just try to keep up, Sir." Both men practically lunged for the two fighters. Vertitas climbed up to the TIE Advanced x1 while Roblin quickly made his way into the Interceptor. A technician threw a spare flight helmet up to him, and Roblin noticed there was a newer advanced HUD within the bucket as well. The hanger doors in front of them slowly parted, letting in the bright light from the distant sun. Roblin spotted the designers grabbing their coats below to fight against the sudden chill.

"Ready, Captain?" Roblin was listening to the powerful engines whine behind him, when Vertitas cut in on the comm.

"Let's do it." He punched the launch command a hair behind the Wing Commander and shot out of the hanger just a breath behind his superior. Roblin was once again pushed back into his chair as he got a feel for the new craft. He slowed a fraction as he almost collided with Vertitas craft. They may have the same engines, but all the extras on the TIE Advanced x1 slowed it down a bit. A blink of an eye later they were rocketing over those long rows of barracks and a heartbeat after that they were over the red frozen desserts of Mars.

Roblin did a spin and watched as the contrails trailed from his wings. The fighter was the most responsive snubnose fighter he had ever flown. To illustrate the point, Vertitas led them through a flight of TIE/In starfighters that were flying patrol around the city. Roblin was sure the other pilots had no idea what shot through their formation. Vertitas was laughing as he answered their challenge over the comset. "Hey CC-1-2, you see that canyon up ahead." His old commander couldn't help to revert to procedure in flight, but Roblin put that aside as he noticed a large scar on the planet ahead.

"I see it CC-1-1, I'll follow you in." This should be fun, Roblin thought. Both fighters did a roll over and then banked and dove towards the ravine below. When Vertitas's TIE Advanced entered Roblin noticed it was so close to some of the gorge's walls that its invisible deflector shield was causing multiple pieces of debris to fly back at Roblin and his fighter.

Vertitas bled off a lot of speed as Roblin shoved his flight controls hard to the left and then back the opposite direction as he stayed with his flight leader. He felt sweat building up under his flight suit and he wished he could have been able to wipe his forehead through his helmet. This was some of the most intense flying he had ever experienced. The TIE Captain knew if he was behind the controls of one of his old TIE/Ins he would have already been splattered across the walls of the chasm.

"Some kind of rock bridge up ahead. Stay close." Vertitas notified him. Roblin spotted the edifice, and decided to do something different. He pushed the stick forward and hit the deck of the canyon. He actually felt himself sucking in his stomach as he wished he was skinnier. He hit the afterburner and shot below Vertitas's fighter. He pulled up and heard the Lieutenant Commander's cry of surprise. He flipped the fighter over on its back and passed under the rock bridge spanning the canyon's rims.

"YEE HAH!" He screamed.

They both pulled alongside of each other as they leveled out high above the canyon. The speeds both craft were able to achieve made his head spin. The sky was already starting to turn black as they passed through the upper atmosphere.
"Well you can tell those designers which fighter gets my stamp of approval." Roblin exclaimed, as he ran his gloved hands lovingly over the flight computer.

"I think they were leaning that way anyways. The Interceptors are pretty cheap to make. We might even get some squadrons of them into the air before we hit Earth. The TIE Advanced x1 is too complicated, and nobody is sure what is happening with credits now that we're cut off from the Empire." Vertitas explained. "Still it would be nice to fight with something that's got a shot of surviving a direct shot or two."

"Moff Kuat will probably make a bunch of these and keep a few of those TIE Advanced x1s hidden behind his back somewhere. He did that with those new warships during the Battle of Coruscant during the War."

"I remember that. I was in flight school on Corelia at the time. All the Old Republic Fleet officers were pretty surprised by that slick move. Let's take these for a spin around the old Quill, shall we."

"Right behind you, Sir." He shoved the stick forward again and suddenly Vertitas and he were the fastest beings this galaxy had ever seen. Hell of a way to spend your vacation he told himself.
------------------------------------------
Detention Level, Imperial II-class SD Quill, Northern Mars Polar Orbit

Yutu was getting accustomed to the odd personalities and quirks of his Earthling prisoners. For the most part, the ones that seemed to have military experience would be difficult at first, but eventually they all cracked under the influence of mind-altering narcotics mixed infrequently with sleep-deprivation or a little light torture administered by the EV Supervisor Droids. Now all he had to do was suggest another session with the interrogation droids and the prisoners would open up quickly enough.

The captives were showing signs of mental anguish and fatigue. Yutu was starting to fear that he had gotten all he could out of them. The discovery of one of them committing suicide by means of hanging himself in his cell had caused him to keep a guard posted with every prisoner at all times.

The mysterious vitamin-related illness had also disappeared and Yutu believed that it had been cured by the sudden influx of the Earthling's own food supply from their captured base on their unnamed moon. Unfortunately, it had come too late to save the payload specialist of their Mars shuttle who had died of the illness. The commandos of Tarkin's Fist had captured a pair of medical personnel from the Eagle Base colony and Yutu had allowed them to take over medical care for their fellow prisoners, who he had finally granted the privilege of communal meals and physical recreation as long as they were heavily guarded and HoloCamed at all times. The result had been a huge increase in the prisoner's moods.

Yutu had also been struck by how much the Earthlings seemed unaware of, especially the univererse in general and basic sciences. When one of the males from the moon base had been brought in with a broken leg from the attack, Yutu's own medical droids had wrapped the injury in bacta splints. The recovery was being hailed as a miracle by the Earth doctors who wanted to test out the drug themselves. Lieutenant Knebler had to remind one of them with a fist to the gut that they weren't here to learn about the Empire, but the other way around entirely.

The Imperial medical teams had given him some clue into the malady, when several of them had declared that the Mars Mission astronauts seemed to have come down with a vitamin deficiency, even odder than that was that it was probably a potassium deficiency. When he had ordered a technician to check out the Earthling's food, the crewman had reported what would have been an unheard amount of the extremely rare element. His own medical tests of the prisoners showed that they were packed full of the stuff as well. Several surviving capital punishment prisoners aboard the repaired Abandoned Hope were force-fed the Earth rations and so far hadn't shown any sort of side effect. He ordered extensive testing and had even passed on biological samples to the orbital laboratories under Moff Kuat's command to be studied in depth by some of the finest genealogists, biologists, physicists, and medical doctors the Empire had to offer. They were as close as you could get to being baseline humans, but he feared the biologists in the fleet would label them as near-humans.
Those biologists and other doctors were currently running every kind of test that was known to the galaxy, and the only thing that they had come up with so far was that the Earthlings also had an extremely low midi-chlorian count. In fact, they averaged only one to three of the microorganisms per person, with only one of the females having a count of five in her entire body. When Yutu tried to access imperial research into midi-chlorians he found even his own security clearance wasn't high enough, which was strange because he had thought he had the highest security clearance in the fleet. He assigned a couple of intelligence crewmen to work around the security codes, but that had been more than three weeks ago, and they still hadn't made a dent in it.

He made his way past the security station and entered the red lit tunnel that led to the individual cells. The guard in front of the cell he was heading for moved aside and punched the security code into the wall panel causing the door to slam open. The prisoner inside stirred as he entered.

"I figured you'd be around eventually, especially after they gave me some of that truth serum earlier." Major Ana Martinez of the North American Marine Corps and NASA seemed to be in a pleasurable enough mood this morning. Of course that may have been the drugs talking. Yutu was starting to get the impression that he didn't need to administer the truth serum to some of the prisoners anymore. Major Martinez was not one of them. She even successfully fought against giving up vital secrets some days. She didn't even pass out anymore as she had started building up a tolerance to the Xebonica and Loquasin mix. A pity really, because that just meant she would have to spend more time with the droids.

"Of course, you know me. I can't stay away from a beautiful female like yourself for too long." He smiled at her and wondered why she still fought interrogation. "Last time we were talking about your experiences as a ground force commander in your country's recent war."

"Against the South Americans you mean, because I hear from my wonderful guards that we're at war with you guys now, and that seems a bit more recent to me." The astronaut shot back.

"Indeed, more like a game of brinkmanship. There may still be time for both sides to return to the negotiations table and any information you give me, may in turn, save the lives of many of your fellow countrymen. Now why did you go to war with the Union of South American Nations in the first place? Just tell me what happened in your own opinion, not the excuses your government fed you, please." Yutu knew she was fighting to keep quiet, but he found most of his prisoners couldn't help verbally bashing their southern neighbors.

"They had too much control of oil prices with their huge oilfields under Brazil and Venezuela. Everyone knew they were price fixing. They had gone from one of the poorest continental unions to one of the richest in only a decade."

Yutu cut her off. "How important are fossil fuels to your nation?"

"Everything runs off of it, from cars to planes to boats even. We fought a couple of wars early in the century in the Middle East to secure our supply, but extremists have caused that area's instability for millennia. I've heard we've been close to new fuel sources my whole life, but the breakthroughs have always seemed to be right around the corner, and have never come to anything. Then the Southerners get this big influx of money and power and start pushing the NAU around in the UN. Then one day everyone wakes up and Southern armor divisions have over run the Panama Canal and slaughtered the garrison there."

"That resulted in your country's call to arms and resulting bombing campaign of Southern cities?" Yutu suddenly had a bad feeling about the attacks his own fleet was mounting.

"Yes, when America is attacked we have a long history of going to war."

"Even if it's a war you can't possibly win?"

"We've won every war so far except for one last century in Vietnam."

"But your country withdrew from the South American Union. What caused your country to back down from that?" Yutu leaned forward for her answer. The Fleet Admiral would be particularly interested in her answer as well.

"Well I was a little busy at the time leading my company in some of the worst street fighting ever seen. My troops fought long and hard and we never lost a battle smaller than a company size engagement. It was the protesters back home that brought us down. People were upset that we annexed Cuba and half the Caribbean. Then the EU stabbed us in the back with their huge weapon shipments down to the southerners along with their Special Forces teams. I think the biggest thing though, was we were losing over two thousand killed every month, and the army and marines were slowly being bled dry. Even if we were throwing our Mexican soldiers at them like cannon fodder. The folks back home just couldn't stand that good American boys were losing their lives in a stinking jungle again. China brokered that peace treaty and we've been involved in a cold war with the Union of South American Nations ever since."

"What was the final body count that caused your government to give up?" Yutu knew he was being obvious, but she hardly noticed through the effects of the medications.

"We lost about sixty thousand dead with about five times that wounded I think. The last President lost his reelection over it, and the whole country has been stuck with the idiot we got now for the past six years." Martinez seemed to be complaining, but her eyes seemed to be screaming for her to be quiet. It was a fight they would lose.

"It would be easier if your people gave up the notion of democracy and joined the Empire. Only the strongest, most qualified lead us." Yutu suggested. "Though we do have a Senate which is pretty ineffectual." He conceded.

"I guess. I heard your Senate is a little different than ours though."

"Have you been discussing politics with your guards as well? Yes, we only have one house while your nation appears to have two. It's a wonder you aboriginals get anything accomplished at all. Let's change the conversation a bit shall we? What was the most effective land-based weapon system your forces deployed during your last war? Especially when it comes to 'the worst street fighting ever seen?'" Yutu prodded.

"That would probably be the Leopard IIIs. Those guys could kill anything their guns could reach, and the Southerners could fire at them all day and barely scratch the paint on them. We lost a couple to heavy anti-tank mines, but our infantry was pretty good at keeping enemy rocket teams at bay."

"Yes, one of our probe droids fought with some of them near one of your larger cities. I guess they were effective against a probe droid, but that really doesn't say a lot. Aren't those hovertanks, sorry I mean tanks, from another union? Why is the NAU dependant on a foreign country for its weapons?"

"That's about the only one, well maybe our Javelin missiles We used to use the Abrams tanks, actually our Marine Corps still uses the old M1A2s, but when the old US army joined with Canadian one the canucks thought their tanks were better than ours and the army agreed. So now we get our tanks from Germany in the EU." Martinez talked about it like it was a done deal, but Yutu couldn't understand how the same deal would be made in the Empire. The Old Republic perhaps, but not the Empire.

"How do you transport these tanks to the NAU from the EU?"

"They've got big cargo ships that haul them here."

"That's interesting. A large portion of your planet is covered in water. How dependent is the NAU on its ocean-going navy?" Yutu dug the question deep. He needed to know just how to cripple the enemy before the Empire made it dirtside.

"A lot. The Atlantic and the Caribbean are full of our ships as well as those of the Southern Union. I'd say a good third of our armed forces are in the navy. Our President even was in the Navy like thirty years ago." Martinez yawned.

"What are your biggest most vital ships?"

"I would say our Marine Helocarriers, but I'm a marine so I have to say that. Everybody knows the Navy puts everything they got into their aircraft carriers."

Yutu pulled out a small HoloImager and activated it. The blue-hued image of a large ocean-going vessel with a flat top and several airspeeders scattered about its deck showed up. Martinez's eyes got wide as she saw the image. "Is this one of those ships?"

"Yeah, that's the Obama. I flew off of her in flight training when she was off of Havana. She's a good ship." Martinez had a tear fall from her eye as she fought to stop herself from betraying her country.

"I'll bet. Are you aware of any deflector shielding or any other type of electric or magnetic shielding on this craft or others of its class?" he prodded.

"You mean like a force field? No one has any of those. I told you that last week when you were asking about planetary shields, and whether or not we were hiding one and just haven't activated it yet. We don't have anything like that, and I bet you guys don't either, Mr. Spaceman!"

"You'd be surprised." Yutu could tell the fight within her was starting to burn her out. "I think I have enough answers this session, Ana. I believe I will let you be for now, but I will eventually be back, so you get some rest." She bit her upper lip and nodded her head in agreement.

"Goodbye, Major Martinez."

"Goodbye, Captain Yutu." He stopped in the doorway for a fraction of a second. He couldn't recall if he ever told her his name or rank. These prisoners were learning as much as they could about him, just as he was doing the same to them. He made a note to change out the guards on this detention level with new ones, as they were starting to get way too comfortable with their captives.

He didn't feel like interrogating another prisoner for awhile and decided to instead make his way back to his station in SigInt. A turbolift took him there in less than a minute, and he was soon entering the confines of his own private kingdom. Recently, the SigInt Station had knocked down its surrounding walls and taken over the stations next to it, as he had to make room for his expanding roster of intelligence agents from all over the fleet. Three technicians continued to monitor the Earth's internet from the isolated computer desks. Yutu was glad he hadn't ordered them to connect with the Quill's computer core, as Earth computer viruses, bugs, and something called spyware clogged the three machines and had greatly reduced their speed since his men had first discovered them. He'd hate to think what kind of damage the Earth machines would have done to the Tarkin's Fist if they had half a chance.

An Earth 2d HoloDrama was being shown on one of the station's viewscreens, where he noticed Lieutenant Knebler watching along with several technicians. The young officer noticed his superior and rushed over. "Good 'movie', Knebler?"

"Another obnoxious loud explosive one, Sir. Interesting though." Knebler turned and stood beside his commander as Yutu watched over the hustle and bustle of the busy spy network.

"How so?" Yutu asked to pass the time. He had found little value in the Earth's action HoloDramas. His section was responsible for what was to be shown to the civilian population on Mars below, and the only thing he had found worthy of distracting them from Earth primitive's broadcasts, were sporting events.

"Well it seems in all of these 'movies' the good guy always is facing alien monsters or asteroids or some type of terrorist."

"Yes, they do like the HoloDramas where they are up against impossible odds. Makes no sense, as they tend to make dozens of mistakes and then somehow find a solution at the very last second every time."

"That's just it, Sir. They win. In all of their so-called movies they always beat the aliens and come out on top. I'm starting to think it's somehow ingrained in their psyches that they will always win in the end. Sir, I think they have decided that we're the bad guys."

"Of course we're the bad guys to them. We've blown the hell out of their power grid, and pushed them violently out of the own system, and back to their own planet. We took their astronauts prisoner, but I do see your point. You are saying that the earthlings have only conditioned themselves to victory due to their HoloDramas."

"Yes, Sir. It's like they have no idea how to back down. I believe this could be a psychological factor in our invasion plans. The primitive population of the third planet will be expecting some last minute salvation. It's what they've been taught to believe in. War with them may have to be to the death, theirs most likely, as last minute help won't be arriving."

"You think we'll have to go through with it, especially after the Fleet Admiral gives them his ultimatum." Yutu mused. "We already have evidence that the ion attack may be driving some of their nations to the negotiations table. Though news reports from there are indicating a large loss of life from those dam collapses, and that seems to have incensed a few of them even more."

"They'll come to their senses eventually. I can't think of anyone that hasn't fallen in line with the Empire." Knebler assured him. "I don't know if the rebels count, but I also don't know anyone who's ever come across one of them."

"I thought Palpatine was being a bit paranoid about them as well, but it did give Tarkin his opportunity. For now though, what else can we do to make sure the Earth doesn't come across an opportunity of its own?"

[Kalanidavidg]

Holding Cell, Kuat of Kuat Surgical Center, Culter City, Mars

Kuantus Kuat was a man who felt as if he was constantly being harassed. Several thousand different researchers wanted his attention and tried to snatch at his precious time from a trillion different directions. Thank the Emperor he had his two aides, Gage and Niobe running interference for him. They also had the difficult task of preventing him from dedicating himself to every experimental project that came across his desk. He viewed himself as a being of science and was frustrated at how he had slowly been turned into an administrator instead.

His two aides were busy running down results from tests that had been run in various research projects from the previous day, as well as production values, factory output, new patent applications, payrolls, sales figures, military maneuvering, and a thousand other statistics that were ongoing under the KDY and Kuati Third Fleet banners. It all would have made a lesser male go insane long ago, he assured himself, but he found patterns in the chaos, and helped shape the future of the Fleet Admiral's vision for their rapidly expanding society.

"This should be an exciting procedure, My Lord." Niobe said in a slight purring of a voice. Her meter long blonde hair was braided down her back and tied off in a traditional Kuati weighted hair clip, that had been used as a weapon in ancient Old Republic times.

"Are we absolutely positive that this aboriginal prisoner has been checked out by our medical corps? We don't mean by medical droids either, but by some of the medical physicians within our own Kuati Fleet instead." He asked. The news of the strange Earthean diseases had fascinated his research biologists, but it had terrified the Kuat of Kuat, and the way they were spread was simply diabolical.

"Yes, Sir. Our best doctors and surgeons have been in contact with the male. The Quill also gave him an intensive and intrusive antiseptic chemical bath, and we've had him under a large full body antiseptic field since we learned your Lordship personally wanted to observe the procedure. The man himself states that he has never been exposed to any of the diseases that were discovered by Fleet Intelligence, Kuat of Kuat." Gage assured him.

"Let Us hope that is sufficient then. So, this Terran doctor has been more than willing to work with our own surgeons, without coercion?" Kuat picked up his pace as the robes and cloak of his position flowed behind him down the hallway.

"Yes, My Lord, supposedly he was captured in the moon attack, and was so immediately intrigued by our own medical practices that he requested for an exchange of information, as he called it. We pulled his records from the Earthican World Wide Web. He received his surgical certification at one of the most prestigious medical facilities in the North American Union. A place named Boston University, but I'm not exactly sure where that is in their country. He served as a combat surgeon during their last planetary war, and was the Chief of Surgery at John Hopkins Medical Center before he was selected by their space agency NASA to be their Chief Medical Officer at the Eagle Base on their moon for the past two Earth years." Niobe read from her datapad as orderlies and nurses made way for the Kuati Moff as he passed through their hospital, that bore his name.

"Hopefully, he can deliver as promised. His claims of a new kind of 'miracle' surgery have almost every surgeon in the fleet requesting observation of the procedure."

"It's a fascinating procedure. I can't believe no species has ever thought of it for themselves within the confines of the Galactic Empire." Gage observed.

"Probably, because it won't actually work." Kuat was skeptical as they passed two Kuati troopers dressed in the old plastoid Stormtrooper armor, and walked into a small holding area where their prisoner waited for them on a small bench. Gage walked forward and unlocked the captive's slave collar.

"Hello, you must be Moff Kuat. I'm Dr. James McCoy." The near-human male held his hand out to the Imperial Governor. Kuat was taken aback by the man's manners, and noted that both Niobe and Gage were trying their best not to recoil in horror as the prisoner greeted the Kuat of Kuat in such a common way. Kuantus just kept staring at the hand. After a long pause Kuat could tell that Gage was indicating to the man that he should be bowing instead. James McCoy wasn't an ignorant man and clumsily bent slightly at the waist to greet Kuat.

"Greetings, Dr. McCoy We are most interested in seeing your procedure today. If it works as you have described, it will save millions of lives across the Empire every year. We have already lost two patients to this condition since our fleet arrived in this galaxy."

"Galaxy? I thought your fleet was from this galaxy?" McCoy questioned. He quietly placed his slave collar back on his bench. He fell in as Kuat turned and left the room and they continued their conversation as they made their way to the surgical wing of the hospital. The two troopers fell in behind them to keep an eye on the prisoner.

"The less you know about that, the better. Believe We, your health could take a sudden downturn if you pursue that line of questioning." Kuat warned.

"Understood." McCoy blushed as the implications of the threat struck him.

"We have set up a surgical suite to your specifications Doctor." Niobe broke in to relieve the sudden tension. "Your First Assistant is Dr. Talum from Sollust, and your surgical technician will be Dr. Ardewick from Byss, both men have over thirty years of surgical experience, and are some of the top researchers in the field. We felt that you might feel put off if we used 21-B surgical droids to assist you. The anesthesia you described has been simulated by drugs that we currently use, and will be administered by Dr. Tubble from Kuat. We have also transferred all of your surgical instrumentation captured on your moon and had them sterilized and waiting for you. I must say the ultrasound device you requested from your captured stores has created quite a stir amongst many of the doctors of our own fleet. I never imagined a day when you could discover the gender of your unborn child before delivery."

Niobe was as shocked as he, "I heard you could even learn of the arrival of twins long before delivery, not even the Jedi had that ability."

"How is the patient?" McCoy asked. "And what's a Jedi?"

Kuat thought it wise to ignore the second question. Gage handed the doctor his own datapad which was opened to the medical file of the female that was undergoing the procedure. Kuat studied the man as he immersed himself in the data, and saw a kindred spirit in the pursuit of science as well, albeit strictly in the medical field though. After a few minutes of study, while they passed through more of the facility, he looked up and continued their discussion. "She seems like an ideal candidate for this procedure. She is presenting with placentia praevia, and you have already had a failed induction of labour. I do have one question about her, however. What is a Coruscanti?"

"That's just one species of human, so you shouldn't be too confused about her anatomy. We felt your first attempt should be on a baseline human or a near-human being." Kuat said abruptly.

"What the heck is a near-human?" before any of them could answer they walked into the observation room of the surgical suite. The room was filled with beings from all across the Empire, who were waiting to see McCoy's experimental procedure. The Earthling doctor stopped dead in his tracks as he was approached by his two assistants. Dr. Talum was a short Sullustian with black eyes, large ears, and gill-like jowls across his face. Kuat was amused when he realized that the doctor was shocked by his first contact with an alien, even though he hadn't noticed passing a dozen different species in the hallways, but had instead been lost in the patient's medical record. "I thought you were all the same." McCoy stated in a soft whisper.

"We have representatives of over fourteen thousand different species amongst our fleet in this system, Sir." Gage informed him. "Almost all of them are concerned with the applications of your experimental surgery upon their own kind. Now if you'd be so kind Doctor, we'd like to get started." The three surgeons entered the suite where the patient waited for them. Kuat and his two aides took a place in the front row of the observation room's deck that sat above the room, while the other doctors filed in around them.

A MedTech FX-3 Medical Assistant droid help the Earthean doctor with his surgical gown, while his two assistants showed him how to use the antiseptic force field to sterilize his hands before he gloved up for the procedure. The patient lay on the operating table talking with the anesthesiologist. Kuat thought it was strange that the patient would be left awake and aware while they performed such an invasive procedure, but McCoy had told them that it was quite normal and expected. She was a young twenty-something female who had a husband serving aboard one of Moff Seco's warships as an engineering officer, he believed. The husband hadn't been able to reach the hospital in time, but was supposedly on his way. Kuat hoped they wouldn't be delivering bad news. The fatality rate during birth was almost fifteen percent in the home galaxy, and the patient's condition wasn't too optimistic.

Kuat winced as McCoy took one of his instruments, and sliced into the female's belly. She must have been drugged up pretty good, because she didn't make a sound. He listened as the Earthling described the events of the procedure and several other doctors around Kuat recorded the procedure with handheld HoloCams and their datapads. Suddenly there was a huge gushing of liquid as the doctor pierced the ambiotic sac, he began moving rapidly as he pulled the grey fetus from the female's abdomen. Kuat found himself holding his breath as the baby stayed silent. McCoy yelled at Dr. Ardiwick to hand him some type of bulb device. McCoy held the baby and used the device on it, when suddenly it let out a piercing cry. Kuat expelled his breath in relief. He hadn't been this nervous when his own son was born, he recalled.

McCoy handed the child to the FX-3 with a little reluctance, before he returned to the procedure. He explained how to reattach the uterus, muscle, and skin layers of the patient. Dr. Tubble kept reading off the female's vital signs and the gathered crowd was growing excited at the growing success of the operation. Within another ten minutes Dr. McCoy was finished and the room exploded in applause. The FX-3 handed the baby to its mother who was crying in joy as her husband chose that moment to arrive and join his wife. Several surgeons came into the room and asked the girl dozens of questions as if they couldn't believe what they had just witnessed.

Kuat stood up and addressed the crowd. "We congratulate you, Doctor. For millennia death in childbirth has been a scourge upon the galaxy. Hopefully your procedure will turn the tide against its horrendous death toll. In honor of what you have done here We would like to name the procedure in your honor."

"I thank you Sir, but honestly, just saving lives is reward enough. You should call it the Caesarian Section like we do on Earth." McCoy conceded. The male knew a sense of humility that had never existed inside of Kuat's own family, where they named everything after themselves.

"Doctor McCoy, I would like to give you your freedom here in Culter City, and employment within the Kuat of Kuat Surgical Center. I cannot relieve your two guards or let you return to Earth however, but I invite you to continue to teach the doctors of our fleet your procedures and to learn from ours as well."

"Thank you, Moff Kuat. If I can't return to Earth, I would love to do so." He looked over at his Sullustian assistant. "It appears I have a lot to learn about your people as well."

Kuantus turned to his two aides and indicated that it was time to leave. They led the way through the press of surgeons and made their passage out into the quieter hallway. "That was most fascinating. We need to find ways to apply the procedure to all species however. I hear there are already rumblings about human and near-human species being the majority here. Several researchers have already mentioned that they have dangerously low breeding populations of their own kinds here on Mars."

"Kuat of Kuat you might want to mention that to the Fleet Admiral. He has already started a training program to include many non-human beings into the new Stormtrooper Corps." Gage informed him. "It would be a pity to lose some of them." Kuat heard the small undercurrent of sarcasm in his aide's voice, but dismissed it as typical Kuati egotism.

"We may do that. How has the transfer of our Kuati legions to Moff Seco's command gone?" Kuat asked.

Niobe answered this one. "Excellent My Lord. You couldn't differentiate them from the normal Stormtroopers. I also understand that the issuing of the new armor systems is currently at thirty percent, but the troopers are approving highly of them in the field. The biggest complaint has been the lack of training tibanna amongst the troops."

"That is not an area under Our concern. Fleet Admiral Yos is responsible for the procurement of supplies for his beings. Has there been any decision on the TIE fighter issue?" He asked as they made their way into an underground vehicle park where his armored repulserlimo waited for him.

"Yes, Yos finally decided on going with the TIE Interceptor prototypes. We are breaking ground on a construction depot for their production next week. We are in the process of hiring two hundred skilled workers from the labor pool. It is estimated that the new fighters will start arriving in the fleet in wing compliments in an estimated eighteen months. We will of course be setting aside the TIE Advanced x1 for further study." Niobe informed him as they entered the vehicle.

"I want a separate area of the new factory set up for their production. For the time being, I will use them for security around the mobile driveyard. Speaking of, how are we on laying down the keels of the new Imperial III-class SSDs?" Kuantus asked as he watched out of the viewscreen as the transport left the garage.

Gage answered this time. "Production is going slow. We're still waiting for the influx of skilled workers that the invasion will free up. It will take a few years before the first warship of that class sets sail anyways My Lord. The delay will give us more time to research new weapon systems for the vessels. Speaking of new weapons the Fleet Admiral has sent a new request."

"Oh, and that would be?" Kuat turned his complete attention to the new puzzle.

"He's asked that we take a look at the fleet's compliment of SPHA-Ts. The Fleet Admiral thinks that their turbolasers will be useless on Earth. It wants to know if there is a way to retrofit them with mass-drivers of large conventional slugthrowers like the Earthlings use. He's also mentioned applying a couple of E-webs to the beasts for crew protection."

"That seems simple enough. Get with Captain Charge about some of the ammunition requirements and we can do ballistic and trajectory training with the mutated SPHA-Ts within a month." Kuat ordered. Already his mind was racing with new projects based off of the giant artillery pieces. "As always the new systems will be issued to Moff Seco's troops last and we demand payment up front from him as well. The Fleet Admiral can continue his payments with his ore shipments, and precious metals from the Phasma Belt."

"It is rather convenient that Yos found those rare metals out there, and then puts our new Tarkin's Fist credit on the gold-standard." Niobe observed.

Gage countered. "What else could he have done? The Imperial Credit was losing all of its value and he's got half of the population working in the greenhouses around the city. He'd have a economic depression on his hands as well as starvation in the streets if he didn't start printing his own money." Kuat listened to the argument in silence. The other three leaders in Tarkin's Fist would always have to come to him for new weapons and starships, so credits would never be an issue for him. He only needed enough to keep the other Moffs from poaching his researchers like Moff Seco had done with his bacta scientists a couple of months ago. The thought still irked him, and he continued to show his displeasure of the Ploo Moff whenever possible.

"Economics aside, I believe we witnessed a medical breakthrough akin to a miracle today," Kuat interrupted them, "We need to discover more like it, especially if we are to grow as a society, and somehow challenge Tarkin's enemies one day. Now I want you two to always be forward thinking like our Fleet Admiral was with the credit issue. We barely have two legs to stand upon out here in this unknown galaxy. The conquest of the aboriginal near-humans on Earth will give us the work force needed to free up our skilled workforce. After that Tarkin's Fist along with my weapons could take on the Empire itself. That is if we chose to do so."

He smiled widely to his two aides. At first they seemed to be surprised at the very suggestion, but it slowly dawned on them that the decision had already been made.
-------------------------------------------
Margaritifer Terra Training Grounds, Mars, Sol System, Milky Way Galaxy


"These kriffing things are a bit stiffer than the old ones, Sarge." Lieutenant Mahan complained as he moved his new body armor around a bit to stretch it out. His bucket lay on the workbench beside him as the platoon crowded around them in the uniform distribution bunker. The troopers were all trying on their new white Stormtrooper body armor systems to replace their old tried and true ones.

"You'll probably have to break it in a bit, Loot. It'll take us a while before the troops get used to all the new battle rattle." SF-4738 picked up a new chest plate and took a close look at the thing. The white was a little duller than the old suits, and weighed a bit more than he was normally used to, but if he was more than a meter away he couldn't tell the difference between the new and the old.

"So Sarge, what do you think? Will these new suits past muster or not?" HF-3105 asked from across the room as he pulled
on a new issue version of the black body glove that insulated every Stormtrooper's armor. These new ones had the addition of a balaclava facemask hood that added extra warmth under their helmets, perfect for their Martian training grounds, and similiar to what Snowtroopers currently wore.

"We'll see won't we? They won't do much to stop a blaster bolt."

"Supposedly they do wonders against slugthrowers though, Sarge." Mahan suggested, "And that's what we're allegedly going up against when we take on the Earther scum." The young officer remained his optimistic naïve self. 4738 had learned long ago that even the most thought out plan never survived contact with the enemy. "Have you ever encountered rifles before?" Mahan hung on his every word.

"I served with a couple of Clone troopers who had served on Tantooine after the war. They said the Czerka 6-2Aug2 slugthrowers the sand people carried were pretty nasty." He noticed most of the troopers in the squad slowed down their dressing as they listened to the Sergeant's story. "Supposedly their tan robes would enable them to blend right into the ground, thermals couldn't pick them up with all heat the sand was throwing off, and the troopers there had no idea they were already surrounded unless they stepped on one. What the Clone troopers told me was the Tuskens would aim for the polarized lenses on the buckets of the Sandtroopers. They blasted down quite a few good boys that way."

"I wonder how long it'll be before the Earthlings pick up on the same trick." Mahan pondered, and 4738 could tell by the silence in the room that many of his troopers were asking themselves that same question. Several of them eyed the lenses of their buckets with a suspicious leer.

4738 clipped on the last piece of slug-proof armor to the magnetic clasps on his body glove. He instantly felt the suit start to slowly warm as it tried to keep him at a cool seventy degrees. Maybe he could get used to this he told himself, and then he lowered his bucket onto his head. A whole new world exploded before his eyes. The HUD lit up like something out of the Clone Wars. New location, armor and weapon, temperature, medical status appeared in small icons around built in macrobinoculars and an updated air-filtration system. He used his eyelids and pupils to activate the comlink inside the helmet and was pleased that the power and range of the set had been boosted as well. This was by far the most advanced piece of fighting gear he had ever sported.

The Lieutenant was right though, it was a bit stiff. He swung his arms back and forth across his chest a few times to stretch out the material in the body glove. One of the uniform outfitters that were helping the troopers with their new suits had mentioned that sensors in the body glove could detect wounds and injuries and send a signal to waiting medics. That had been the main reason for the inclusion of the balaclavas, in case some luckless stormtrooper stopped a slug with his ear. The suit also had the ability to constrict around a wound to prevent blood loss. His only worry was the things would melt like hot butter in a blaster battle.

They turned in their old suits to the armorer and supply technicians and assembled slowly outside. 4738 felt the suit warm as he stood in the frigid Martian atmosphere. On the outside his platoon looked much like it did before it had gone into the distribution center, but underneath they were the most high tech warriors the Galactic Empire had ever fielded. It showed in the trooper's demeanor too as they seemed to joke and laugh with each other while they waited for him to call the platoon to order. 4738 was just waiting for the last of his platoon's troopers to finish up inside the bunker before they fell out with the rest of the company.

Lieutenant Mahan saw the last trooper exit the bunker before he did and screamed, "Fall in!" The platoon quickly assembled into four ranks of twenty four men each, while 4738 took his place at the front of the formation. He kept his attention to his front, but strained to see out of the corner of his eye when Lieutenant Mahan signaled for someone to come forward from the bunker. Within a moment he saw two technicians dressed in Imperial Army fatigues and bundled up against the cold in the white cloaks of Snowtroopers and stocking caps, approaching the formation. They pushed a pair of repulser-sleds ahead of them that were piled high with a sight he had almost forgotten.

The sleds carried a large stack of tibanna gas cartridges capable of firing up to five hundred blaster bolts each. Another technician carried two large boxes behind the ammunition men. He opened the crates next to the Lieutenant and 4738 could tell they were carefully packed with new scopes for the E-11s his men all carried. Evidently someone had been thinking of upgrading his trooper's weapons as well as their armor. It felt like Empire Day for the platoon.

"Platoon Sergeant, step forward." Mahan called out and 4738 obeyed. The platoon leader handed him five of the cartridges which the sergeant slipped four of them into his belt, while slapping the last one into his blaster. "Help me pass out the rest to the men."

"Yes, Sir!" 4738 was thankful for the helmet, so his men couldn't rib him about the grin he had across his face. There was no better way to get his platoon to act like proper troopers again than to give them a fully armed and operational blaster. He took the first five cartridges from the ammo hauler and called out, "6166!" The trooper fell out of formation and ran up to the sergeant. He slapped the cartridges and a new scope into the Stormtrooper's outstretched hand before sending him back to join up with the platoon. He repeated the action ninety nine more times until he had a fully armed platoon in front of him. The Lieutenant kept busy during that time securing over ten thousand rounds for each of the platoons E-webs and passed out advanced scopes to each of the platoon's four snipers. He signed and resigned dozens of forms on flimsiplasts the two technicians carried, in triplicate, so the platoon took full ownership of all their new gear.

When 4738 was finished he signaled the platoon leader and fell back into his place at the forefront of the platoon. Mahan addressed the troopers as the ammo haulers returned to the bunker. "Troops, these cartridges are just the first round of power packs and tibanna we are to receive. Platoon Sergeant SF-4738, I want these troopers out on the blasting ranges tomorrow honing their marksmanship skills. The Stormtrooper Corps has a reputation for being the most precise shots in the galaxy, and I mean to keep it that way. Now that the fleet's warships have been armed to a satisfactory level for their turbolasers, the Fleet Admiral has assured the Generals in charge of the 1st Mars Ground Army that we will be receiving all the ammo we needed from here on in."

The platoon let out a cheer as the Lieutenant finished up. 4738 thought about the new designation for the ground forces on the planet, while the name made sense he had wondered whether or not they were going to name the army after Grand Moff Tarkin somehow. Well it was the Fleet Admiral's perspective he figured, and he wondered how long before they got rid of the Tarkin's Fist moniker as well. There wasn't much of an Empire out here he reminded himself.

4738 called the newly 'armed to the teeth' stormtroopers to attention before marching them smartly off of the parade ground in front of the bunker. Already members of another platoon in his company were filing out of the bunker with their new armor uniforms. 4738 was sure in the next hour they too would be receiving their first allowance of tibanna cartridges. Lieutenant Mahan marched alongside of him as he led the platoon in cadence across the base back to their barracks. As they passed the chow hall the Lieutenant turned them in a different direction and steered them towards the base's HoloDrama hall. 4738 rose a questioning eyebrow which accidently activated his new locator beacon. He struggled for a second to turn it back off, but he didn't question his young officer's odd decision.

Mahan led the troopers into the hall and had them file into the chairs of the theatre, just as another platoon was filing out of the auditorium. A couple of officers in the grey tones of the Imperial Navy stood on the stage and waited for the platoon to settle in. Something about how the two males carried themselves screamed Imperial Intelligence, and 4738 settled into his seat for another sleep-inducing briefing from the high-brows in SigInt.

A large HoloImager came online and showed the now familiar image of the planet Earth. "Welcome troopers. I'm Lieutenant Commander Knebler of the Quill and this is First Lieutenant Murp, and we're delivering a 'Know Your Enemy' briefing." 4738 tried to make himself as comfortable as possible. He glared down the row at a couple of his troopers to take off their helmets so he could tell if they were sleeping or not.

"Earth is located beyond the Outer Rim, in a remote area of a separate galaxy, on one of that galaxy's spiral arms." None of that really meant anything to the veteran sergeant, except that the rumors were true that they were well beyond the long reach of the 1st Galactic Empire. He wondered how many of his own troopers picked up on that tidbit as well.

Knebler continued. "We're still not sure what to call the enemy as they don't usually address themselves by planetary means. Earthicans, Eartheans, Terrans, and Earthlings seem to all be acceptable forms of address amongst the prisoners the fleet has captured." 4738 didn't care what you called them. If they shot at his troopers he would point his blaster in their direction and cut them down, and that was all that truly mattered. "Earth is a backwater world in what has been determined to be the Sol System in the Milky Way Galaxy. We have determined that they named their galaxy after a popular candy treat of theirs, aren't they sweet?" Some of his boys laughed slightly at the weak joke. "Its balanced position in the biological lifeform zone has insured unique ecological conditions on the planet's surface. The Earth has about every conceivable climate zone, which entitles us to use every Stormtrooper specialty when we invade."

A Stromtrooper rose his hand. "Do they have a magma fire climate zone like Mustafar?" 6166 sarcastically asked as 4738 shot daggers from his eyes in the trooper's direction. They could be here forever if 6166 got the intelligence agents going.

"They have large volcanic areas around this Pacific area," Murp indicated on the Holoscreen, "We have intelligence that the Earthlings won't defend these areas too closely as they have little or no strategic value. Now shut it trooper." 4738 laughed to himself as the intelligence agent cut off his platoon's jokester.

"Most of the climate zones are a result of this planet being covered with 2/3rds ocean. What we can expect to fight in are jungles, desserts, tundra, plains, but what we mainly will be facing is urban warfare." 4738 shuddered. Urban terrain was by far the deadliest to battle in. "We have no idea how humans ever got out this far and arrived on Earth, but it appears as if they've been here for at least the past 11,000 years, perhaps longer. They are the only sentient species on this planet, though we have detected the use of several canine breeds being utilized by their militaries. DNA sequencing with the prisoners we have taken so far indicate a strong relation to the Coruscanti of Imperial Center, the Socorran, the Chalactan, and the Corellians though there is no way to prove that beyond a shadow of a doubt." 4738 fought down a yawn. "Due to rare vitamin requirements they are being classed as near-humans for the time being."

"The planet hasn't been contacted since they settled here, though there may have been contact by the Children of the Green Planet some time ago. Evidence shows the locals tried to capture the expedition, before chasing them off of the Earth. We had to dig into the deepest Old Republic reports for that tidbit." 4738 tried to remember what he knew of the Green Planeteers, some kind of deep-space exploring botanists species if he recalled correctly. Not very common where he had come from.

"Their society seems to be split between over two hundred separate forms of government that seem to be moving towards greater unification according to continental masses with the help of a relatively vulnerable worldwide computer network. They were also undergoing corrosive efforts to eradicate the differences in culture between their widely different societies. Oddly enough, Galactic Basic Standard is quickly becoming the accepted language in usage amongst the Earthlings, so the issuing of protocol droids will only be in areas where our troops run into large amounts of translational hardships. Even though they use the same language for the most part, they still have levels of racism and nationalism to the point of open hostility and warfare towards other human races. To this end we have carefully censored any information of our current population of alien species here on Mars." 4738 wondered how they were going to use that against the enemy exactly, but decided it was a problem for a higher pay grade. He checked his chromo to see how long he had been trapped here.
"The Earth population has widely disbelieved in the existence of life beyond their own planet, though we detected several efforts on their part to locate other beings. We believe this is the reason behind their open hostility toward our arrival in their system. The Earthlings seem also to have no concept of hyperspace; in fact they were in the process of developing some kind of warp drive system based off of something from one of their HoloDramas."

Mahan timidly rose his hand and waited for the intelligence officers to call on him. The junior officer Murp noticed him and nodded. "Sirs, just how many of them are on this planet? I mean are we gonna be digging out some farmers or hunter gatherers riding around on rancors with slugthrowers and bows and arrows? Maybe burn down a few scattered villages and towns?"

"Our current estimates are that they number around eight billion." There was a low whistle of appreciation that went through the troopers. Tarkin's Fist was believed to have only carried a little over eleven million beings with it when it found itself stranded in the local system. The stormtroopers had a lot of future blasting to do to whittle down those Earthling numbers a bit.

"All right the boring stuff is over." Knebel announced suddenly, which made 4738 sit up a little more in his chair. "This is what we know currently about their weapon classes, troop formations and deployment techniques of their ground forces in several of their larger nations. We can also tell you what they apparently have under development."

An hour later, after a long briefing on Earth weapons of every type under the overly bright Sol Sun, 4738 led his men back to their barracks. The boys seemed to have an extra step in the march as they moved along in their new uniforms and carrying fully loaded blasters. If everything they had learned about the Earthling weapons was true the platoon would have a walk in the park when they hit the Third Planet.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Skywalker Memorial Racetrack, Southwest Culter City, Ares Vallis, Mars


The scream of the fifty six massive Podracer turbine engines felt like a physical entity as it swept over the cheering crowd. Brakatak was so excited about the upcoming race that he hardly noticed the biting cold in the open air arena. Podracing had flourished for years on Kinyen after it had been outlawed throughout most of the Empire and some of his fondest memories of childhood had been alongside the greasy smelling, ear-splitting racetracks. The only lava flea in the ointment was the new track owners, humans themselves, had named the arena after the only human that ever won the Boonta Eve Classic over two decades ago. Brakatak had heard the boy, that beat out his childhood hero Mawhonic during that race, turned into some kind of Republic hero before being killed at the tail-end of the Clone War, so he must not have been all bad.

The rest of his herd lounged about next to him high up in the newly constructed stands. One of the first jobs they had found when they had arrived months ago in Culter City was the construction of the massive red pourstone and ditanium arena over a durasteel framework. The work had given them enough credits to add a hanger pit to the house his herd had built on the governmental land grant they had been given in what was rapidly becoming the suburbs of the city. Nowadays they hid the stolen freighter Agen's Light under camouflage drapes while the girls and the two Utais Erw and Raf made continual, but not quite legal upgrades to its system. Frip had laughed that the next time they started it up they'd be breaking several dozen imperial laws.

His Ishi Tib friend was a couple of spectator stands over catching up with members of his old school that he had found working the greenhouse gas and oxygen production facilities out on the plains of Mars for Moff Culter. Frip had run into them a couple of months ago, and they had been happy that he was safe and had found a new school of his own. Frip had even confided to Brakatak one day, that his old school would remember him when it was spawning season. Lucky him, Brakatak laughed to himself.

Brakatak's thoughts returned to the racetrack as the banners of each individual racer were paraded across the finish line while the announcer began introducing the drivers. The track had been laid out across the Martian landscape to mirror the Vinta Harvest Classic course on Malastare, which was another point of pride for Brakatak, that it would be based off a track on a Gran world. The big Gran had been surprised when the Imperial officials that ran Culter City had legalized the dangerous sport again. Rana, his Duro pilot, had morosely suggested it was a way for the Fleet Admiral to distract the masses from the looming threat of war with an enemy that supposedly outnumbered them three thousand to one. Her argument was bolstered by the fact that every illegal sport had suddenly made a comeback. When the arena wasn't being used for Podracing it was filled with swoop and pit racers, while he had even heard they were preparing to hold the first Martian games, based on the old Imperial Games at the end of the year here. A limmie stadium was even under construction in the heart of downtown Culter City. Brakatak had dismissed her concerns and had argued that the Fleet Admiral was a male who knew what the beings liked.

He looked over at the pilot who was engaged in friendly conversation with Keatly and Ashla the Togruta Jedi Knight who had somehow become a member of his herd. He cleared his throat and gave a slight wave to get her attention. When she looked in his direction he pulled on his own belt to indicate her lapse in awareness. Ashla looked shocked, and then quickly tucked the lightsaber he had spotted back behind her Togruta sash.

He hadn't known what to make of her once it had been revealed what she was. Jedi had been fugitives from the Empire for the past decade ever since they had led a revolt against Palpatine at the end of the Clone War. Ashla had vehemently denied that it had ever happened when Rana had asked her about it. Jedi were still wanted by the Empire, but Brakatak wasn't sure how the high command of Tarkin's Fist felt about them. She was now a fully fledged member of his herd and no matter how high a price on her head, Brakatak would never hand her over to the Culter City Guards.

A hot chav vendor made his way up and down the aisles and Brakatak waved him down so that he could buy a round of warm drink for his friends. Ashlei thanked him as she held the drink in her mittened hands trying to get as much warmth out of the steaming cup as she could. Moff Cutler had promised the citizens of Mars that he could achieve a steady temperature of seventy degrees, but that they shouldn't expect it until sometime late next year.

Brakatak was torn between two of the Podracers below. Neither of the drivers was famous yet, but both had performed well in the race trials the day before. The first of them was a Nosaurian behind the controls of a sleek looking blue and green GPE-3130, while the other was a female Er'Kit named Loudy Mandrell who drove a salvaged Exelbrok XL 5115. At the betting kiosks Brakatak had dropped his credits on the Nosourian racer Clegg Fastburn since the male drove a Podracer of the same type as his long ago hero Mawhonic.

The flag-bearers cleared the circuit and the engine noise rose to a fevered pitch. Brakatak understood how some beings with heightened hearing couldn't stand the sport, though those same beings had no problem watching it on Holoscreens at places like the Long Jump Casino. The grandstands of the arena started to vibrate from the amount of noise flooding from the track. Thunder Drums manned by a pair of Weequay musicians boomed above the arena and Brakatak was startled how the beats matched his rising heartbeat. A quartet of Zabrak musicians blasted Iridonian Crackle Trumpets as the packed crowd rose to its feet. The noise had the effect of raising the blood's temperature to the point that not one being in the crowd was feeling the effects of the chill in the air as the race was about to begin.

As if there was a pre-arranged signal all the music in the arena ceased as the starting light beamed green to the drivers. Twenty six Podracers took off at a pace that was phenomenonally close to suicidal. Two more racers took off a moment later after having to deal with engine stalls. A Phui driver was the first leader as they rocketed out of the arena and across the crimson Ares Vallis valley. Soon they were in an area that was rife with twists and turns and several spectacular crashes wowed the crowd as they watched the race being broadcasted on their own personal datapads or across the massive Holoscreen on the other side of the arena.

The race slowed a bit as the Podracers climbed into the Xanthe Terra highlands. When the leader took a sudden spill off one of the mesas up there, each driver seemed to tense up while amongst the danger of the steep cliffs. Brakatak checked how Clegg Fastburn was doing and was pleased that the man was in eighth place and moving up in the pack. The racers jetted across a delta region below the foothills that was covered in thick red dust that clouded up and threatened the lives of the contestants that weren't in the lead. Brakatak lost several Pods completely in the thickening clouds, but was relieved when he witnessed Fastburn shoot out of it and into fourth place.

The competitors swiveled back and forth through a series of impact craters, before they turned and headed back towards Culter City from the northeast. As they passed an AT-AT firing range and several industrial complexes the racers suddenly dove into the wide storm sewer that ran below the city. HoloCam droids captured the action as Fastburn battled with the leaders in the darkened subterranean tunnels. Brakatak laughed as several city maintenance workers ducked out of the way as the Podracers tore by.

A kilometer from the arena the Podracers returned to the bright light of day and raced for the arena for the completion of the first lap of the three lap course. Two racers pulled into the pits and their pit droids swarmed over them, while Fastburn continued his battle for the lead, and was in and out of the arena before Brakatak could even say his name. The second lap indicators lit up across the stadium. Brakatak watched the pit droids in action as more of the surviving racers screamed through the arena. One team of them was so quick that they switched out the Podracer's power couplings before the driver dropped three positions in the race. The other driver wasn't as lucky as he seemed a bit livid as he argued with his inept pit crew.

The two laps went by in a flash as the Podracers exited the tunnel once more and made their final dash towards the finish line. Fastburn was neck and neck with an Aleenan Podracer. Brakatak was horrified to see smoke coming from Fastburn's port turbine, and his hopes of a gambling fortune were shattered as he watched his driver lag more and more behind. He ripped up his voucher ticket and tossed it into the air as the rival driver crossed the finish line to the cheers of the crowd.
"That's ok, Brakatak. I lost my wager on the Mon Cal driver as well." Ashla tried to reassure him. He wondered why she hadn't used her mastery of the mysterious Force to insure a win, but truth be told he wasn't exactly sure how her powers worked in the first place. He had seen her move things about with a thought, but they had always been small items. Rana had told him that Ashla had some kind of mind tricks up her sleeves as well, and Keatly had mentioned that the Togruta was always meditating to focus her connection with the Force. He wondered if she was growing more powerful by doing this.

"Come on, let's grab Frip and go back into the city. I'll buy you a round of Duros Ale to cheer you up." Rana suggested, as the group gathered their belongings. Ashlei was busy calling Frip on her comlink, while Erw and Raf wanted to stay behind and sift through whatever salvage they could find of the wrecked Podracers, they assured him they would catch up with the herd in an hour or so. Brakatak wished them luck and then led his herd to a large group of waiting taxi speeders looking to haul beings back into the city. Landspeeders were just now coming onto the market for the civilian population. They were mostly craft that had been stored aboard the cargo ships of the fleet during the big jump, but somebody had opened up a small factory in Culter City with a half dozen manufacturing droids and a few new models crowded the lanes leading into the Martian city as well. Tarkin Tower dominated the skyline as they made their approach, but scaffolding in several other location showed buildings that would someday rival Imperial Center's soaring edifices.

They pulled up to the Long Jump Casino and paid their driver before the six of them entered Culter City's hottest nightspot. The Casino was constantly growing as well, and was now a forty four story hotel and had added several new wings that included a dance club, several restaurants, an art gallery, and even a few show theaters. By far the most popular feature was the casino and its already legendary bar. It not only served every drink from the Galactic Empire, but its owners had connections with Moff Kuat and had been able to get access to the Earth's Internet, where they had stolen every drink recipe they could get their hands on. Brakatak had heard they had a huge greenhouse and distillery nearby that did nothing, but grow the ingredients for copying the Terran concoctions. He himself was particular to a new drink called Tequila.

His whole herd had their own favorite except for Ashla who said the Earth drinks smelled awful and refused to partake, not even a sample. At first he thought it had been a Jedi thing, but he witnessed her several times downing glasses of beverages that had come with them during the big jump. The night went on with a mix of gambling, meeting new friends, drinking, dancing, and reveling in the new nightlife of the society the beings around them struggled to build every day. Even as they partied the night away construction droids around the city continued the effort.

At one point late in the evening Brakatak found himself at the crowded bar trying to get the attention of a pretty Twilek bartender so he could order another round of drinks for his herd. When he looked back at his table, Rana was fending off the advances of a pushy Neimodian by pretending that Frip was her boyfriend, while Raf was busy drawing funny sayings on his passed out friend Erw's face. Ashla and the two Firrerreon girls were on the dance floor of the club dancing circles around any male that dared ask them for a dance.

"You're a Gran aren't you?" The question came from a huge Herglic male that was towering next to him at the bar. He had a suspicious look to him that set Brakatak on edge right away. He was dressed in fine Rodian silks, which told that he was out for the atmosphere and wasn't looking for trouble. It was the Herglic's overcoat which bore the emblem of Traxes BioElectronics that set Brakatak's curiosity to overdrive.

"Yeah, who wants to know?" he growled menacingly.

"Just a friend, pal. I thought all of your kind was in the care of the ConCare firm out in the Kuati Research section of the city. How come they let you out?"

"I was given special permission. How do you know of the other Gran there?" The Cetacean had obviously been drinking, and it took a lot to get their kind tipsy, and Brakatak had the feeling that he had been on the way out when he had noticed the Gran. He wondered if he'd be able to get any information out of him if he was sober instead.

"We've been doing business with their firm and products all week. Expensive things which is why I don't think the Fleet Admiral will go for it, but I did meet one. She was named Tupolek or something weird like that. ConCare ought to stick to working with livestock and crop DNA." Brakatak let in a sharp gasp of air. He hadn't thought much of his old herd since he had taken up with his new friends, but he had hoped they were doing well without him.

"They take pretty good care of us over there." He tried to dismiss the odd Cetacean.

"I guess so, I've never heard of anyone letting a lab animal have a night out." The male turned and started to walk for the door. Brakatak sat at the bar in a moment of confusion. His own legs were moving to catch the Herglic, before he had even thought to order them to do so.

He caught the male's arm just as he reached the door. "Hey mate, just what do you think that ConCare is doing to us out there?"

"I thought you knew? They're cloning slaves."

[Kalanidavidg]

Upper Stratosphere, Main Continental Mass, Earth, Unknown Space

"Tighten it up, Mynock." Captain Roblin ordered his TIE pilots over the squadron commnet. "Striker, keep an eye on the boys. The whole fleet's watching us on this one."

"Aye aye, BloodStripe." His panelman 1st Lieutenant August, better known as Striker, responded quickly.

"QI2-4-1, this is QI2-1-1 how do things look from your end?" Roblin called his counterpart leading the Nos Squadron of TIE/in starfighters behind his own flight.

"Mynock Lead this is Nos Lead, things are looking five by five back here. We're ready whenever fleet gives the go." His fellow flight leader informed him.

"Roger that Nos Lead, just remember this is Bantha's show. If he doesn't make it, we'll be sitting out there with our shebs in the air." Roblin indicated the large TIE Interdictor craft that flew in the middle of the protective perimeter of the two squadrons of ten TIE/in starfighters each. Above them by a couple of hundred kilometers patrolled three squadrons of old ARC-170s that would engage any trouble they came across on the mission, while Roblin and his boys provided direct cover for the two Bantha pilots in their heavy bomber.

The TIE Interdictor was a rarity in the fleet. Originally designed to augment the TIE/sa bombers that made up the backbone of the bomber corps, the TIE Interdictor had been judged too expensive and something of an overkill for what normal bomber missions called for. In fact, when the fleet arrived in this system after the big jump only two of the heavy bombers were to be found anywhere in the fleet. Moff Kuat had ordered three more of the bombers to be built at his KDY driveyard around Mars. The TIE bomber command module on the odd craft was flanked by two twin heavy weapon bays that carried up to four times the normal standard load of the TIE/sa bombers. It was big and bulky, but it packed a hell of a punch. Now all five craft were the heart of the mission currently underway to force the Earthlings to the negotiation table.

The Quill's bomber squadron, the Banthas, had volunteered their commander as well as their very best bombardier for this mission, and had been training for it on Mars for months. They had been equipped with a highly experimental payload that had especially developed with this target in mind. Roblin had even heard scuttlebutt that they had stole the basic principles for the ordinance from the Earth's own imitation HoloNet and altered it to fit the fleet's own needs.

Roblin loved irony, and he was pretty sure there wasn't a whole lot of sympathy for the Terran humans after the attack on the Insertion. He had never heard the amount of propaganda that was being aimed at the Earth in his entire time in the Empire's service, and he remembered quite clearly the days when all you heard anywhere was how evil the old Jedi were. By now, he was pretty sure everyone on Mars wanted to take a swing at the treacherous Eartheans, or whatever you called them. The Bureau of Operations had gone and outright stole mudslinging techniques straight from the Earthlings and applied it to their new Martian HoloNews and other propaganda broadcasts. By now, wherever you went on Mars the civilian population wanted Terran blood. The only bad news he had heard, was the efforts against the Earth itself had showed little to no effect on the civilian and military forces there. Evidently they had heard it all before.

That was one of the reasons his fighter squadron was doing lazy circles high in the Earth's thermosphere waiting for the go ahead by Fleet Command. He knew somewhere across the globe four other TIE flights such as his, protected the four other TIE Interdictors much like the one piloted by Bantha's squadron leader.

"BloodStripe those TIE/WACs are doing a hell of a job."

"Why's that, Striker?"

"I'm not picking up a whole heck of a lot of airspeeder activity below us besides the normal patrols. I'm not sure the earthling defense forces know we're even up here." His XO wondered over the net.

"Probably waiting for us to come down a little bit, and then they'll jump us." Wampa threw in.

"I heard Fleet has been rushing the planet with a star destroyer every few hours for the past month to keep them occupied. Their pilots are probably a bit jumpy and tired of all the false alarms and being on alert constantly." Roblin suggested.

"Could be Boss, you think they're just used to seeing us up here?" Zap asked.

"They're practically blind with the TIE/WACs in the neighborhood anyways, but I'm sure they've got high altitude spotters down there somewhere. By now they've seen all the fighter activity going on. I'm betting they're just waiting for us to make the first move."

A voice suddenly cut across all channels. "All Squadrons this is TIE/WAC Besh. This is a priority warning that Earth defense forces have gone to their highest level of alert. They are scrambling airspeeders in numbers of several thousand from multiple points around the globe."

"Told you so, boys." Roblin had a satisfied grin under his bucket as he switched channels, "TIE/WAC Besh this is Mynock Lead, any word on when we're going to be released? I don't want those guys below us to get too set up before we go in after them."

"Wait one, Mynock." An intelligence FlightOp technician informed him from the large winged TIE spy craft told him. Roblin slowly counted to twelve before the voice came across the channel again. "Remain in hold Mynock, we're still waiting for the China Strike Force to get into place."

"What's keeping them, we're ready to go."

"Sorry Mynock, huge weather system over their area of operations. That particular strike force had to move to a new vector for their attack. Hold one, Mynock." Roblin heard the distinctive clicks inside his helmet that let him know the other officer was switching between multiple channels. When he came back he was transmitting across every starfighter channel once again. "This is TIE/WAC Besh, all forces are cleared for assault. I repeat all forces are cleared for assault. Clearance is Ryloth Girl, Repeat Ryloth Girl. Good hunting!"

'Ryloth Girl' was the code they had all been waiting to hear. "Tail-head Piffer!" he responded, sending the proper countersign that his flight was on its way to the first set of targets. Roblin reached across his flight controls and moved his weapon toggle to active, to power up his twin 'chin' cannons. He wished for the thousandth time that he was behind the controls of one of those prototype TIE Interceptors back on Mars, but he reminded himself that it would be a little while before he got a hold of one of those experimental craft again.

He glanced across the red lit cockpit and made sure his life support was working and armed the ejector seat handle in case the worse happened. Luckily his attack force was moving towards targets on the night side of the planet. Most of the mission would be done by instruments alone, and he had already made sure that every bioluminescent control was in proper working order before he had ever launched from the Quill.

"Bantha, this is Mynock are you a go?" Roblin contacted the bomber commander in formation behind him.

"Roger roger, Mynock and Nos, Bantha is a go."

"Mynock follow me, and keep the pace down. If any of you lose Bantha I'll blast you from the sky myself is that understood!" He ordered his pilots into action.

"We hear you BloodStripe, you have lead." Striker responded for the males of Mynock Squadron. He didn't mean to worry them, but it was time to get very tactically minded. A pilot who took his eye off of the ball during an attack run usually ended up splattered across the landscape.

"On me. Let's take her down." He shoved the stick forward and felt his nose dip towards the planet below. Several cities below were visible by their lights. Tarkin's Fist hadn't made a follow up attack after their Ion attack months ago and several areas of the world below had gotten their power up and running again. Fleet Intelligence had reported that several small civil wars had also broken out on the planet as a result of the attack, and terrorists had taken advantage of the blackout in several areas of the world. Good for them Roblin thought, the Earth should have surrendered when the Empire first arrived like most right-thinking planets would have.

His heat indicators rose slightly as he entered the stratosphere, but it wasn't a big concern. A TIE could dip in and out of the atmosphere of a planet like this several times in an hour and be no worse for wear.

"Russian Federation Assault Force you have several high altitude interceptors moving under your position. Recommend course correction .229 immediately." Roblin made the course correction and watched as the flight computer showed him how they over shot the enemy airspeeders. Their speed wasn't even close to what the TIEs could do, and a second later they were far beyond the first flight of enemy airspeeders.

The flight computer lit up with warning lights that showed several ground-based radars were doing their best to track him and his men. The TIE/WACs in orbit were also doing their finest to jam the weapon systems as he flew across the hostile skies. A moment later he was aware of several projectiles in the air all around him through breaks in the clouds nearby. They were a mix of air-to-air weapons and ground based missiles, but they were all being fired blind at Mynock Flight.

"Bantha how you doing back there? You keeping up alright?" Roblin asked as he watched missiles strike within a few kilometers of his position and explode across his projected flight path. Even more of the misfired projectiles self destructed behind Nos Squadron, in the rear of the flight, to no visible effect.

"We could pick up another hundred kilometers an hour Mynock. First target is coming up in 25 seconds." Bantha's pilot informed him.

"RF Assault, you have forty two enemy airspeeders over the target. Designation Mig 30s. Angel Wing is engaging." TIE/WAC Besh informed the assault force. Ahead of him he watched as searchlights probed the night sky as they got closer to their target. Several explosions ripped through the blackness as the ARC-170s of Angel Wing streaked out of the pitch black sky and engaged the Russian fighters with their long distance weapons. The enemy airspeeders were so busy trying to stay alive that they lost visual with Mynock and its charge, as Bantha raced across the target zone and dropped one of its weapon pods towards the target below.

The Russian Federation Assault Force was kilometers away as the weapon pod broke away to reveal sixteen specially designed proton torpedoes known as 'Diggers'. Each of the Diggers fired a special warhead before impacting the ground that shot a plasma bolt superheated hotter than the sun into its target. The blast liquefied away the earth before the projectile slammed into the sludge to a distance of almost thirty meters before engaging its payload of a seismic charge mixed with conventional high explosives. The Russian nuclear missile silos that were struck didn't stand a chance as they were ripped apart by the finest ordinance ever developed by the Galactic Empire. For a distance of almost fifty kilometers around, all sixteen of the impacted underground bunkers and military complexes collapsed with massive loss of life of those who had chosen to stay at their stations during the attack.

"Bantha to Besh. Target Alpha complete. Code Geonosian Bug."

"Copy that Bantha, Geonosian Bug." The TIE/WAC that controlled their attack responded. Roblin noticed that the ARC-170s had already broken off their attack as well and were climbing for orbit in preparation for the next attack.

"Target Beta in 75 seconds." Bantha announced across the net.

"No fighter cover over Beta Target. In bound flight of Mig 33s will not arrive in time with their current speed. Angel Wing stay in hold pattern." Besh ordered.

Searchlights covered this target as well, but Roblin noted a new defense. Around these silos, the sky was suddenly filled with dark bursts of explosives at various heights.

"What is that?" Wampa asked.

"Stay off the channel unless you have a contact, Wampa." Striker scolded the younger pilot.

"Stay cool Mynock. It looks like we've got some kind of explosive flak to get through." Roblin felt his own nerves on edge. He had never encountered anti-air fire like this. Usually you could see the blaster bolts racing up towards you, but this was different. The bursts were random and wildly aimed. Any second an odd round could erupt inside one's own cockpit. It was terrifying, but they charged on.

"They're firing repeating slugthrowers at us." Striker commented.

"How can you tell, Striker?"

"I keep seeing small red lights everywhere. I think it's some kind of indicator round for their machine slugthrowers."

"I've never heard of any type of flak gun being mounted on anything smaller than a cruiser, and these Earthlings have them everywhere?" Roblin was dumbfounded, "Every type of calibre too."

"Bantha firing." Finally, Roblin exhaled as he juked his fighter around a long stream of the tiny red lights that raced into the sky past him. Intelligence really needed to find out what those were in a hurry.

"I'm hit!" Zap screamed over the net.

"How bad are you, Zap?" Roblin asked as his flight rocketed away from the target zone, and massive eruptions destroyed Target Beta for the Empire.

"Almost tore my right solar array off. I'm bleeding power and speed. Port stabilizer was blasted clean off too."

"Fall out QI2-1-7 and return to the Quill. Space rescue has been notified of your condition." TIE/WAC Besh ordered the stricken fighter.

"You heard the man Zap, get out of here. There's not much you can do back there anymore." Roblin watched as one of his fighters pulled out of the formation and climbed for orbit. He wished the younger pilot luck in returning to the ship safely.

"Next Target Zone 47 seconds." Bantha informed them. Roblin was amazed they had already flown over nine hundred kilometers and had left dozens of airspeeder squadrons behind as the enemy fighters couldn't hope to match their speed.
Through out the night, target after target was obliterated as they systematically eradicated the Russian Federation's nuclear arsenal. Weapon production facilities, and nuclear plants were hit, as well as storage bunkers and deep silos that proved no match for the advanced Diggers. They lost two more damaged TIEs from Nos Squadron, but both of them made it safely back to the Quill as Zap had before them. Both of the craft had been hit by the mysterious flak the earthlings threw up. He heard later that Rancor flight had lost two pilots over a base in China, but both pilots had been able to ditch in the ocean, before being picked up by space rescue.

"Endex RF Assault Force." All targets have been terminated." Roblin pulled back his stick and climbed for orbit as Bantha, Nos, and his own boys in Mynock followed. Roblin switched to the fleet net and heard stories of success from all over the globe. Several of the last remains of the Earth's anti-satellite defense missiles raced towards the fleet, but they were handedly dealt with by the turbolasers of the star destroyers.

"Angel Wing is claiming almost two hundred confirmed kills and Besh is verifying it." Striker informed him as they made their way back to the Quill.

"Fierfek, I never even fired my cannons." Roblin complained.

"Neither did I. Whatever happened to any mission you walked away from was a successful mission, BloodStripe?" His panelmate chided him. He had wanted to get some kills of his own when the mission was announced, and he had certainly wanted to get his rookie pilot's hands dirty. Instead pilots flying old relics from the Clone War would get all the glory when the fleet pulled into Culter City again.

"Next time we come back to this mudball. Mynock is going to get some kills one way or another." He sliced through space towards the waiting flagship.
-------------------------------------------------------
KDY Type II Orbital Repair Yard 1138, Equatorial Orbit, Mars, Sol System

The steady thrum of the new Hoersch-Kessel ion fusion reactors had been vibrating under his boots for weeks now, and they were finally ready to be joined by the hum of the mighty warship's sublight engines as well. The three KDY Destroyer I Ion Engines hadn't been fired up in over eight standard months. Not since the back-stabbing missile attack mounted by the devious Earthlings.

Recently promoted Captain Volt stood on his newly reconstructed command bridge gazing out across the mobile driveyard at the thousands of repair droids and starship construction personnel that were busy with the final repairs on his starship. Most of the work they did now was purely cosmetic as the Insertion had been cleared to return to duty for over a week now. The small part of Volt that remained the undercover ISB agent Major Eritech glared at the workers outside, who had at this time last year been prisoners and slaves and deemed enemies of the Empire. Now they were the free people of Mars, and probably made more credits than he did. So far the Tarkin's Fist Fleet hadn't had any problems with the ex-slaves, but he was sure that day would come.

If there was something he didn't know about Imperial I-class star destroyers before the attack, spending eight months in drydock overseeing the Insertion's repairs had certainly educated him. He had spent months learning about the different stardrives and armor systems. How the cruisers could use their solar ionization reactors to maintain their levels of hypermatter and power the ship as long as they had an initial supply of hypermatter. Since all the hypermatter in the fleet had disappeared in the big jump, hyperdrive travel was almost an impossibility. The Insertion's bunkers were full to the brim with dense fuel for the sublight engines though, and they were quite capable of propelling the massive warship to a speed of several thousand g.

The first thing he had wanted to do was fly the Insertion straight into the lower atmosphere of the Earth nations and show them how much their attack had failed. When he had suggested the audacious plan to fleet command they had retorted with the possibility that the Terrans probably couldn't even tell the star destroyers apart from one another. While Eritech had been willing to concede that the Earthlings were extremely primitive in their intelligence gathering capabilities, he had been positive that the enemy would recognize the one vessel they had been able to strike.

Cripple was more the correct term he told himself. He remembered that day as he led damage control parties from deck to deck sealing off every conceivable breach to the vacuum of space. Hull stress throughout the warship had threatened to crack the Insertion into a thousand different sections. Over four thousand of his fellow crew members had perished when that small nuclear device had detonated against the rear bridge shields, which caused the superstructure of the warship to completely disintegrate. The hull had protected the remaining crew by the width of a Hutt's hair.

She had been towed back to Mars by one of the CT-11s used in the asteroid mining operation, and had been the first starship admitted into the mobile repair yards. Those first days were awful as search teams combed the crushed decks underneath the superstructure and found dead and injured wherever they looked. The Insertion looked nothing like her old self as horrendous scars raced across her hull showing where the bridge once stood. Her massive engines had taken damage to their rear propulsion systems and workers from Rothana Heavy Engineering had worked around the clock for several months to repair the important sublight engines.

For his efforts and according to his place in the ship's command his false alias of Volt had been promoted to Captain and given command of the Insertion. Evidently no one had ever learned that the deceased Captain Halser had suspended him from his duties on the day of the attack. It was a fact that Eritech wasn't about to tell anyone either. Supposedly he had learned through scuttlebutt that there were elements in Fleet Intelligence and in the Bureau of Operations that were less than pleased at his appointment, but his old enemy the Fleet Admiral had overrode their concerns with the fact that there simply wasn't anyone else to fill the slot. It wasn't like they could call the Imperial Department of Naval Personnel on Imperial Center and have them send out another ship captain. Volt was who they were stuck with, and he was here to stay.

He turned towards the HoloNews crew that was on the bridge this afternoon to record this important occasion. Eritech was aware that no members of fleet command had showed up, but he wasn't going to lose any sleep over it. The Insertion itself was grossly understaffed. Its Stormtrooper legion had already been transferred to Mars for training before the attack, but when they had been towed into the repair yard they had also lost their TIE wing and all of the gunners aboard the starship. Those crewmen had been transferred to new sites such as defensive garrisons in Culter City and the new observation base on the Earth's moon. So far they hadn't been replaced. Eritech had been informed that new cadets were being trained at the new Martian Academy that had just opened in Culter City, and that they would be transferred to the Insertion as soon as the first class graduated. He was less than thrilled that his warship was to be turned into a training vessel, when it should have been placed first in line when Tarkin's Fist attacked the Earthlings.

It was another slight in a long line of impertinence aimed at the most steadfast of the Emperor's servants in this system. He said a few words to the HoloNews crew as they scanned the crew pit of the command bridge. The men below him were all new to the Insertion and Eritech wondered how many of them worked for Fleet Intelligence or the Bureau as well. It's exactly what ISB would have done in their place and he expected no less from the traitorous scum that ran Tarkin's Fist.
He had ground his teeth while sitting on his shebs in drydock, watching the Fleet Admiral carry out inept retaliatory ion attacks against the enemy, and then witnessing how one earth city after another gained their power back, while the Fleet Admiral did nothing. Commanders above him assured him they would have done more if the tibanna shortage crisis wasn't being addressed. He felt dejected when the Insertion missed out on the strike against the nuclear arsenals of the aboriginal Earth, and tried to imagine what it would have been like to take his star destroyer on a hunt for those underground silos or the missile carrying submersibles that had bore the brunt of the TIE attack a few weeks ago.
The deck officer approached him. "Captain, the repair crews are being recalled and we have been cleared for departure."
"Excellent. Let's take her out for a spin shall we." He stood at the viewport of the bridge and gazed out over the red planet below. Already sections of it were turning green around the area of Culter City, which was always a bright jewel on the landscape at night.

The technicians in the crew pit below started running through their checks and activity increased amongst the new men. "Tractor beam docking clamps have disengaged, Sir." The deck officer announced.
"Tarkin's Fist SpaceFlight Control at Tarkin Tower is giving us a go. They're asking us to report to the southern pole for a shakedown flight." Commo reported.

"Helm, make heading .120 and take us out slowly." Eritech ordered. The massive warship gave barely a lurch as it slowly started to glide out of the drydock. A pair of small repair vessels fired off vacuum pyrotechnics to celebrate the successful repair made by the yard. Eritech could imagine the celebration back at the facility as they congratulated each other on their first restoration.

The warship picked up speed as it turned to starboard after clearing its berth. Most of the remaining berths were empty except for the last two that housed an immense keel between the two of them. Whatever KDY was building there was bigger than any starship Eritech had ever heard of. He put that distracting thought aside and focused on commanding his warship. He was sure the HoloNews crew was there not just for the civilians on Mars, who would be rejoicing the return of their damaged ship, but also for fleet command to watch and judge how he performed on this momentous occasion.

"Increase speed and take us to the rendezvous point." Eritech commanded as they cleared the mobile repair yard. The planet below quickly turned from red to white as it took them mere seconds to reach their destination.

"We're on station." Helm reported.

"Notify Fleet." There were several moments while Eritech positioned himself above the crew pit's commo station listening to the technician banter with his counterpart at the distant Tarkin Tower in Culter City. He sneered whenever he thought of the place and the rumor that it had been designed to emulate the Jedi Temple Council chamber of the Old Republic on its uppermost floors. That would be seen as the ultimate disgrace on the day he finally made his report to the Emperor.

"Fleet is ordering us to coordinates Mern Orenth Krenth two four in the Phasma Belt." Communications told him.

"Navigation, plot a course." He ordered. There was a small chime on his datapad and he quickly gathered it from his belt.

The message was encoded so he pulled the code cylinder from his new rank insignia before he tried to read it. The message was for his eyes only and detailed the scheduled plans for the shakedown testing of the Insertion. He was disappointed to see that the warship wasn't being ordered to close with the Earth, like so many of its crew yearned for. Eritech knew he wasn't the only one thirsting for a shot at revenge, many of those around him had lost friends and comrades in the attack and longed to inflict a crippling blow to the Earth in turn.

The vessel was being ordered to escort two CT-11s and a mining transport, currently in the Phasma Belt, to the moon of Europa around Earth 5 for the purpose of water retrieval. Supposedly the miners would land on the moon and cut large slabs out of the ice there, while the space tugs would haul them back to Mars. The temperature on the fourth planet was starting to stay above freezing at night and the mountain sized icebergs were allegedly going to melt into several reservoirs inside impact craters that ringed Culter City. Eritech thought it was a job for a clerk, not a warship, but since he didn't have any gunners to man his long-sought fully loaded turbolasers, he figured this would be a pretty uneventful journey. At least it would give them an opportunity to stretch out the Insertion's engines a bit.

The Insertion herded the three vessels to their assignment at Europa as ordered and then took several hours to shot around the distant Earth 7, while the miners stayed and clawed out their ice chunks, in an effort to test their sublight engines. They returned with plenty of time to spare as only one of the two space tugs was fully loaded by the time they showed up again. It was another half a day before they were ready to return to Mars.

Their speed returning was much slower as the CT-11s didn't want to lose control of their cargos that sailed through the vacuum of space behind them, as they made their way through the Phasma Belt once again. It gave Eritech and his crew plenty of time to run tests on the Insertion's new computer core and navigation systems that replaced the ones destroyed in the attack. The ship had also been upgraded with several next-generation systems that augmented the lost ones. They had only been developed in the time since the big jump, but were already a generation or two ahead of what the rest of the fleet currently fielded. Eritech wondered how long he could maintain that advantage, or if that had anything to do with the fact that his starship was equipped without gunners for its turbolasers.

There was invasion on the horizon, and everyone could feel it in the air. The Insertion had been the first casualty of that conflict, and Eritech was determined that she would cause many times the amount of pain that had been inflicted upon her.
Mars was finally coming into sight as a small red dot grew into a large red orb in a matter of moments. Those that had caused the damage to his warship may reside on an entirely different planet, but the Insertion's Captain knew her greatest enemies lay on the crimson surface below, and one day soon he would strike at them both.
-----------------------------------------------------
Kuati Research Sector, Culter City, Mars


The howling windstorm outside had started up sometime the previous day and hadn't shown any signs of letting up anytime soon. Brakatak sat inside an expensive caf shop that was frequented by some of the city's top researchers and scientists. He snickered to himself when he thought that no matter where anyone went in the Empire they were sure to run into this particular corporate caf house. He had even heard there were going to be several of them on the Death Star when it was completed.

Directly across the street was one of those new small round pastry shops that had stolen their doughy treats right off the nearby Earth's supposedly primitive HoloNet. He spied several of the imposing Culter City Guardsmen inside the shop with their red Stormtrooper armor. Supposedly their ranks were filled with the guard forces from the prison transports that had conveyed the slave population here. Once all the slaves had been freed they had to find new work, and the metropolis was in need of a police presence. He'd learned that they had been given their new armor by the military after the Stormtrooper Corps had switched to a newer kind of armor. They'd painted their blaster resistant armor crimson to match the Coruscant Guard on Imperial Center, and in honor of their new planet. Brakatak hated how the constables blended into the red pourstone walls of the city around them, though he could see how that would make life more difficult for the small criminal element of Culter City.

Brakatak tried to maintain a low profile himself while sipping his caf as he waited for his Ishi Tib friend to return. Frip had been in an interview with the Chiewab Laboratories for the past forty minutes and Brakatak was starting to worry about him. The pharmaceutical company's corporate office was located next to the pastry shop and the two of them had come down to this section of town together.

The big Gran had inquired all around town for information about Brakatak's old herd and the only thing he had learned was that he was just about the only Gran anyone had ever come across since the populace moved onto the Martian surface. His original Herglic source at the Long Jump was from the Traxes BioElectronics corporation, which when they had checked it out led them to the Rhen-Orm firm, and then the SanTech and ConCare corporations. Everyone they had talked to had known someone that knew someone that had worked with a mysterious group of Gran. Eventually their line of questioning had led them to the doorstep of the Chiewab facility where they had decided to get someone inside and dig up some answers for themselves.

Chiewab itself was widely known across the Galaxy as perhaps the largest medical product and supply corporation around. They had based themselves out in the Corporate Sector Authority to avoid imperial entanglement, but Brakatak had learned that they owned something like six hundred planets of their own out there. They dabbled in everything from first aid packs to cloning technology. Their only problem, and it was an issue with almost every firm in town, was that their researchers were some of the best in their fields. They knew how to develop new research, but Moff Kuat had never recruited any administrators or clerical staff for anyone when they had agreed to secede from their parent firms and come along with the Kuati.

Nowadays everybody in town was hiring administrative and office staff and you could basically write your own ticket if you wanted to. At the moment Frip was across the street dazzling a Chiewab recruiter with tales of his management style. Hopefully the researcher bought it, from what he knew of the truth Frip had been a navigator on a spice freighter with his school of Ishi Tib when they had been boarded by an imperial customs corvette somewhere out by Ord Mantell. They had been Imperial slaves almost as long as Brakatak's own herd.

The caf shop was full of a wide variety of species from around the home galaxy, and Brakatak was amused to see that every one of them appeared to be the egg-head type, no matter their home planet. A line of them awkwardly ordered their drinks from the cute near-human barista, several of them tried to unsuccessfully flirt with the girl. An occupational hazard for the female if she wanted to work at a caf shop in the research section of the city.

A couple of beings in the back of the shop drew his attention, just by the fact that they seemed to be trying to remain inconspicuous. Both of the figures, a Human and a Gamorrean, were both bigger than everyone else in the shop and obviously kept themselves in good shape. Brakatak didn't know how he knew, but he could tell both of the males could handle themselves in a tussle. The Gamorrean met his gaze for a fraction of a second before looking away again. Brakatak pretended the contact had never been made, but continued to watch the two out of the corner of his eye.
Outside the chilly viewport he sat against, the wind was picking up and pieces of debris were starting to mix with thousands of tons of red dust blown in from the plains around the city. Brakatak hoped they made it back to his new herd's home before a storm broke out. Rainfall a few weeks ago had been the first precipitation Mars had seen since terraforming began, and on the HoloNews Moff Culter had warned of more storms in the future. He hadn't mentioned the wind though.
The front doors of the Chiewab facility slid open and a bundled up Ishi Tib braced himself against the sturdy blast. Frip wrapped his arms around himself to maintain heat, but several times had to brace himself as the wind assailed him. If the Martian summer temperature wasn't in the forties Brakatak would have been fearful that his friend was going to freeze to death before he made it across the street.

The door to the caf shop slid open as a bell above the door let out a light chime to let the proprietors know the arrival of a new customer. Frip shook himself off, and a small cloud of red dust came off of his fishy friend to pile up with the small dune that was already forming at the entrance. Outside the mid-day sun seemed to be giving way to an early dusk as street lights started coming on alongside the road in several directions.

Frip went and ordered a caf chav from the cute barista before joining the Gran at his table. The scaly Ishi Tib pulled his chair out with a loud scrape before flopping down in it and pulling off his thick coat.

"Well?" Brakatak asked impatiently.

"Frip get job. No problem for fishy fellow like me." Frip said proudly. His voice a sing song with hoots and clicks.

"Right on Frip, when do you start?"

"Few days more. Chiewab like Frip to accounting manage. That good for friend Brakatak. Frip follow money trail to missing Gran herd that save Frip's life." Brakatak remembered how Frip had almost died of dehydration in the days before the big jump. He wondered if the Ishi Tibs believed in life debts or not. Gran usually didn't, they believed in dedicating one's life to the herd rather than one or two good friends. He had a suspicion Ishi Tib with their 'schools' were much the same way.
Brakatak started to talk about nonsense, which gave Frip a look of confusion, but Brakatak used hidden hand gestures to indicate the two thugs at the back of the shop. Frip noticed them, but didn't draw any attention to the fact. Brakatak could see the two males were trying not to be obvious in their spying on him and his friend. He could keep an eye on them in the reflection of the viewport alongside of him. Frip indicated that he didn't believe that the two males were utilizing any type of listening device that he could see, so they lowered their voices as they continued their conversation.
The noise of the caf shop covered up most of their discussion. A human researcher from Blastech argued with an Ithorian in a Serv-O-Droid lab coat nearby over whether or not the Fleet Admiral should declare himself a Grand Moff, a Lord of Wildspace, or an Emperor. Their heated political debate covered up Brakatak and Frip's conversation.

"So what did you find out about them? Any sign of Frekfrek's herd?" Brakatak asked in hushed tones.

"They be here, or they before here. No more here. Chiewab get big big government contract. They get seeds from Terran colony." Frip explained. "Troopers capture Eartheans. Capture seeds from they as well. Fleet boss admiral tell the Chiewab to clone seeds. Chiewab have dozen Khoomite worker cloners. Work at Centrax-2 by Imperial Center. Form up their own Arkanian Microtechnologies version. Help with Clone Army during war. Emperor Palpatine get rid of clones for birth-born shiny-boys. Kuat Moff hire hundreds of Chiewab work beings away from Corporate Authority Sector and cloners go with cause no work in Empire." Brakatak listened intently.

"So what is it exactly, that this Arkanian Microtechnology company's trying to do?"

"Chiewab own two thousand greenhouses Culter City around. They fill with clone Earth plants. First to feed captives. Second to feed us. We have be eating Earth food for many months now. Recruiter tell Frip Arkanian try to illegally clone farm worker herd also."

"What?" Brakatak took a moment to collect himself. Cloning beings had been highly illegal in the Empire since well before the Clone Wars. "I'll give you one guess who they used as a genetic template for that order. So why hasn't anyone come across huge herds of cloned Gran walking the streets of Culter City?"

"Recruiter say Fleet Admiral say no. Expensive clones are. Like very big price slaves. Rumor say Yos Admiral have new idea where to get big slave army for free. Navy and Army go to earth pick up many new worker humans. If they no go, big civil war happen on Mars with bored stormtroopers instead." Frip warned as he sipped on his sweet tasting caf.

"So how come they didn't let the herd go after the plan was vetoed?" He pondered aloud.

"Frip no know why. All slaves in Tarkin's Fist be freed many months before. Maybe they with Black Sun baddies on Abandoned Hope ship prison." Frip suggested.

"They're not criminals or murderers. I doubt the Fleet Admiral would have approved of that." After the battle of the Abandoned Hope the Black sun criminal organization had been gutted. Supposedly they had lost all of their vigos and most of their lieutenants in the fighting. The Culter City Guard hadn't had a lot of trouble with the group since the population came to the surface of Mars, but that could have just meant that the new vigos were rebuilding and biding their time. "I bet these Arkanian Microtechnology guys are trying to hide their attempt, and Chiewabs helping them with the cover up."
Brakatak put thoughts of the Black Sun aside and finished his drink. He motioned for Frip to finish up his drink as well. They stood up and donned their coats along with their thick hoods to protect against the blowing sand outside. Several beings moved to fill their vacated table in the crowded shop, as they moved towards the door.

"Keep an eye on our friends at the back of the shop." He whispered to Frip as they went through the door. The entrance slid slower than it did when he had came into the caf shop, and Brakatak thought for a minute that the door wouldn't open at all. "Must be sand getting into the gears." He yelled as they stepped out onto the street. The roar of the wind was ear splitting as it charged down the being-made canyons created by Culter City's buildings.

Brakatak quickly lost sight of the buildings across the street as the thick dust clogged the roads and airways. Light was quickly fading as he tried unsuccessfully to locate the sun in the sky above. What had happened to the peaceful red planet they had settled on he asked himself. Brakatak groped behind himself until he found and tightly gripped the front of Frip's jacket in an effort to keep them from getting separated. The sand cut into his skin and crawled deep within his clothes. Each of his three eyes teared up as they tried to expel the grit and junk that was getting into them. He hated to think what the sand was doing to Frip's scales.

They walked a few blocks passing pedestrians hurrying through the sand storm and a few Aqualish working on a dust clogged airspeeder. Brakatak continued to pull the smaller Frip along in his wake when the Ishi Tib suddenly went limp. Brakatak turned to see what the problem was and was greeted by the sight of two figures standing over a collapsing Frip. He frighteningly recognized the Bothan stun sticks in each of their hands.

Brakatak knew they were the same two thugs from the caf shop, even though they had both donned scarves and goggles over their faces to conceal their identities as well as heavy protection against the blowing grit and cold. The smaller of the figures started circling around him in an attempt to cut off his escape route, while Brakatak braced for the attack. They never said a word as the sandstorm concealed the confrontation from prying eyes.

They moved on him at the same time and he swung at the face of the larger assailant. His hand screamed in pain as it came into contact with one of the Gamorrean's tusks. The big boar stumbled back for a second to block any more of the Gran's attacks. Brakatak's concentration left the human for a fraction of a second, and that was all it took for the male to ram home his attack into his ribs. The stun stick sent spasms of pain throughout his entire back and torso. He couldn't even scream as he fell. His head landed in a small pile of sand before his world went black.

[Kalanidavidg]

Assault Hanger, Kuati Imperial I-class SD Kuat's Throat, Earth North Polar Orbit

Kuantus Kuat, the first and only Moff of the Kuat Sector, appointed by the hand of Emperor Palpatine himself, stood on the flight deck of another star destroyer that bore his family's name. The monstrous warship had been based on the Imperial I class of star destroyers that had been constructed for the First Galactic Empire and like the rest of her sisters in the Third Kuati fleet could go toe-to-toe with any other vessel in Tarkin's Fist.

None of that power held any real interest for the former Kuat of Kuat. His real passion lay in scientific discovery and the application of those advancements to the fleet and society he found himself a part of. He had no love for the Empire other than for the fact that they had made his family insanely wealthy as well as made his Kuat Drive Yards the most advanced and respected shipbuilding firm in the galaxy. Every once in a while, however, the Empire came up with something that made the old Moff sit up and take notice.

Several of the best weapon application engineers of the Imperial Department of Military Research stood around several four meter long machinations that crews of Kuati flight deck technicians were loading aboard four Gamma class shuttles. The engineers had been amongst a small group of weapon designers that Kuat had been able to smuggle out from under Palpetine's nose. The machines themselves were miracles of innovation. The satellites were part of a top-secret imperial project named Nightcloak. Kuat rolled his eyes at the typical doom and gloom moniker the Empire had given the innovative satellites.

The Nightcloak system was actually a series of hundreds of the satellites. They had plans for the project inside several of the computer cores in Fleet Admiral Yos and Moff Seco's squadrons, and with the help of one of Kuat's fledgling droid factories in Culter City, they had been able to produce several hundred of the devices. With a few alterations supplied by Kuat of course. The satellites had improved range and the system could still work with a few satellites knocked out.
The Nightcloaks themselves were large dishes made of electromagnetic absorption panels that were designed to absorb infrared, visible, and ultraviolet light from ever reaching a planet's surface, effectively blocking out all light from reaching the targeted planet. The Nightcloak is self-sufficient since it was solar powered and imperial forces could establish a nightcloak in place and forget about it. The effects on a planet under a nightcloak were usually devastating after a few days. Vegetation would die off after being cut off from the sun, and temperatures would drop to ice-age levels after a few weeks.

If the Fleet Admiral wanted the primitive earthlings to negotiate with him, this was surely the way to do it. The absolute morale draining effect of perpetual night over one's planet was usually devastating enough to do the job. Combined with the loss of their nuclear arsenal several weeks ago the Earthlings should soon be begging to be conquered.
"Most of the Nightcloak units are ready for deployment, My Lord." Niobe informed him as she checked her figures with the head of the Nightcloak development team. Only one of his two assistants had joined him on this errand, as he had assigned Gage to do as much damage control as he could back on Mars. The duststorm disaster there had actually inspired the deployment of the daylight denial system.

Who would have ever thought that a sandstorm could last more than three weeks and counting? Hundreds of factories had ground to a halt as production ceased while sifting sand and dust sabotaged machinery and disabled tens of thousands of droids, airspeeders, landspeeders, and military equipment. The entire first year harvest had been buried under dunes of blowing sand, while the loss of sunlight had killed off most of the crops growing in the massive greenhouses built in and around the metropolis. Rationing had already begun in Culter City and Kuat had heard stories of Sandtrooper units being dispatched to rescue civilians out on remote agricultural collectives and even outlying parts of the city.

Kuat of Kuat had watched from his orbital drive yard as the swirling red sand slowly encompassed the entirety of the Martian globe, and had silently prayed that much of his research would be spared. Although he did hope that Moff Seco would be caught in the middle of it. Maybe the sand would skin the treacherous governor and Kuat would find out if the Ploo Moff had any backbone or not, the thought filled him with glee. He wished he knew a way to stop the storm. He knew countless worlds that were completely covered in ice, desert, forest, or even magma, but one that was entirely a sandstorm was something new. The horrific thing was that Fleet Intelligence had discovered that the earthlings had been aware of the phenomenon on their sister planet. The Earth's internet had revealed that super planet-wide storms swept the red planet every three years or so, and that it had just been bad luck that Tarkin's Fist had settled here when one was due.

It had been during one of Fleet Admiral Yos's weekly briefings, when Moff Culter had assured the senior commanders that his terraforming efforts would prevent such a disaster occurring again, that Admiral Bacara from the Anoat Squadron had asked how the fleet could do the same to the Earth. Kuat was more than happy to suggest the Nightcloak project, even though it wasn't one of his own. The personnel that would be required to deploy it and initiate the coverage would certainly come from his own research teams.

Yos had been timid at first. He was still waiting on results of the intense and devastating attack on the Earth's nuclear arsenal a month ago, and wanted the Earth nations to come to their senses about fighting them. Captain Yutu of the Bureau of Operations had declassified the intelligence, which combined with the earlier ion attacks on the planet; the loss of life at most of the nuclear silos and complexes had started a significant peace movement on the enemy planet. The fleet had continued attacks on the earth wherever they detected large radiation signatures, but the Moffs and Yos had felt that one more slight push would bring the Earth to surrender to their demands. Bacara's inquiry quickly became reality.
"It will take at least two days for the Kuat's Throat and the Implosion to complete the deployment of the devices. So since there is no rush, make sure the technical teams are extremely careful with the delicate equipment." He ordered Niobe.

Admiral Hadrian, Commander of the Third Kuati Fleet, appeared beside him, and watched the activity for a few seconds. "Kuat of Kuat, the Demolisher-class star destroyer Implosion has entered the upper atmosphere over the southern pole."

"Have they met any resistance? Intelligence was pretty sure that there were no detectable Terran defense forces on the southern continent." Kuat asked.

"No My Lord, in fact I believe none of the Earth nations even claim the land there as their own. It's as cold as Rhen Var down there, so I can see why. There has been some scrambling of airspeeders from the nations of Australia and the Union of South American Nations, but the Implosion has deployed a light defensive screen of TIEs below them. So far neither side has come within a thousand kilometers of the other. The Implosion is reporting a large amount of radio traffic from the earth research station at the pole."

"They must be getting a little perturbed at the sudden appearance of a star destroyer above them." Kuat smiled as he watched a team load one of the last satellites on board one of the Gammas.

"They're not the only ones, My Lord. I know this isn't your area of operations in the high command, but with the Theatre Commander, Moff Seco, and the Supreme Commander, Fleet Admiral Yos currently occupied with the disaster on Mars, the fleet around Earth is differing to you. It seems TIE/WACs are picking up a huge volume of commo traffic between the earth nations stemming from the reports at the southern pole. The Earthlings down on the Antarctic Continent are the only ones currently witnessing the first effects of the nightcloak system." Kuat listened closely. Military matters were not something he dealt with on a regular basis.

"It seems that several of the larger unions of nations are ordering their armed forces to stand down or to move to a lower defensive posture. Starting about ten minutes ago TIE/WAC Dorn over the west coast of the northern portion of the lesser continental mass has started picking up laser communications, along with high and low band radio waves that were aimed directly at it from a base outside of the city of San Francisco, as well as from one of the NAU's primitive AWAC airspeeders."

"Are they trying to contact Us?" Kuat pondered with a slight doubt. The last time the two civilizations had talked, the current level of hostilities had been initiated.

"We believe so, My Lord. Their communication is very primitive and TIE/WAC Dorn is having some difficulty with the signal."

"Order all star destroyers currently in orbit around the Earth to cease all but the most basic communication, and to move to an area around the Earth's satellite moon. Tell the Implosion to retrieve the nightcloak devices that they have already deployed and then retreat to a position alongside the rest of the fleet. How many TIE/WACs do We currently have in orbit around the third planet?"

"Four Kuat of Kuat, besides the Dorn we also have the Besh, Esk, and the Grek, with the Aurek on standby aboard the Battle of Honoghr."

"Order them all to cease their electronic warfare efforts and return to the fleet, but inform the Dorn to stay on station until we arrive. Then they are to come aboard this vessel. Order the Captain of the ship to take Us to the west coast as quickly as possible." He turned to his aide. "Niobe have the teams secure the nightcloak satellites onboard the shuttles for now, and then join Us on the bridge."

"Yes, My Lord." She bowed as she turned away.

"Admiral, lead the way please." Kuat motioned with his arm. As Hadrian barked orders into his personal comlink. Kuat felt the warship's engines vibrate the deck under his feet as the vessel got underway.

After a short journey on the turbolifts, the Admiral and the Moff entered the bridge. The starship's command center was a mirror of her Kuati sister ships from the Kuati Third Fleet, and Kuantus knew the layout well. He walked to the viewport and peered down at the darkened continent passing below. He noted several bright cities underneath the passage of his warship and was surprised by the Earth's resilience since the Ion attack.

"Coming on station in twenty seconds, My Lord." The ship's captain reported. "The TIE/WAC Dorn is making its landing approach."

"Notify Us the moment that SigInt picks up the signal." Kuat ordered.

"My Lord, CommScan has it; they're boosting the reception strength and are transferring it to the viewscreen on the bridge." A deck officer bellowed across the bridge.

Admiral Hadrian and Kuat both moved to the viewscreen at the back of the bridge. "Put it on screen." Hadrian ordered the bridge crew, and an image of static slowly turned to one of two human males. The first one Kuat recognized as the President of the North American Union from the talks between him and Yos. He hoped the male would be more civil when he addressed the Kuat of Kuat. The other male was shorter and had darker hair then the President. Kuat wasn't an expert, but he believed the two males were of different races. A distinction that, according to Fleet Intelligence, was very important to the Earthlings.

"Greetings, I am President Harris of the North American Union and this is my colleague Premier Dukou of the People's Republic of China." Kuat's eyes narrowed at the mention of the Chinese male's name. He didn't appear related to the leader of the Seperatist Coalition of the Clone Wars as far as Kuantus could tell, in fact he had the appearance of a Tapani noble. "You are not Fleet Admiral Yos, may I ask who I have the honor of addressing?"

"Yes, the Fleet Admiral is currently preoccupied with events regarding our legal colonization of the fourth planet of the Sol System." He watched with satisfaction as both of the males grimaced at his declaration, but neither of them raised an objection. "This is Admiral Hadrian, commander of the Third Kuati Fleet of the Kuati Navy. While I am Moff Kuantus Kuat, Kuat of Kuat, and a chief counsel for Fleet Admiral Yos. I am currently in command of the twenty eight star destroyers engaged in blockading your world."

"We were not aware that we were under a declared blockade. The effects have been unobservable since we do not maintain any trade routes with other civilizations in our galaxy." The Chinese Premier declared. Kuat wondered if the man was bluffing or not, since their own Intelligence service had failed to locate signs of any other societies in the Milky Way Galaxy. "We are requesting a cease fire in your 'illegal' war of aggression and are willing to discuss terms of cooperation between our two civilizations."

"That is all fine. Our first term is the cessation of all space travel from your planet as well as the complete dismantlement of your nuclear weaponry programs world-wide. If another nation is currently developing weapons we request your aid in notifying us of their lapse in judgment."

The President answered. "Those are easy enough. Your attacks on our silos were quite effective, and the space race is dead and buried for the time being. Besides your new sunlight denial device is downright diabolical. As you must know we can't come to you, so we were hoping the Fleet Admiral would be willing to meet with us here on Earth."
"It is beneath the Fleet Admiral to enter into talks with you. You are beaten beings. Our Chief Ambassador will meet with you to deliver our terms for your acceptance. The terms will be met or hostilities will resume." Kuat warned. He could see Hadrian was nodding in approval out of the corner of his eye.

"We request that your Chief Ambassador meet with ourselves, as well as the President of the Russian Federation and the Prime Minister of India in the city where this signal is originating, called San Francisco, in two of our week's time. That's fourteen rotations of Earth." Kuat thought the man was talking down to him for a moment, but then picked up on the fact that he was stalling for time. He could notify Mars and Chief Ambassador Phasma Yos would be here in an hour if she wanted. He considered if the Terrans really thought the negotiations would be of any use, or were probably just using stalling tactics to rebuild their world. If only they knew what real damage the Tarkin's Fist could release upon them.
"Very well, we will continue to monitor your planet for any development of nuclear development. If we detect any, hostilities will resume. Both of your countries maintain several space going vessels still, such as your last Orion shuttle, the Unity. If we see any motion of those crafts towards launch points, hostilities will resume. We will cease all electronic warfare aimed at your nations for a period of two Earth weeks. Our Chief Ambassador shall meet with you at the end of those two weeks to issue or terms. That is all Gentlemen." Kuat cut the connection.
He turned to Hadrian. "I've got a bad feeling about this."
------------------------------------------------
Chryse Planitia, Seco Resevoir, Mars, Unknown Space

The weathered old sergeant SF-4738 stood on the wet stern of the Imperial Destroyer as it slowly sailed the newly created being-made lake. Both he and Lieutenant Mahan were dressed in their regulation imperial military-issue blue swimming trunks and the bucket from their Stormtrooper armor as they basked in the first rays of sunlight to glow over the red planet in several weeks. The day was a crisp sixty degrees, but it was the warmest it had ever been since Tarkin's Fist had settled here.

A few Seatroopers and Naval troopers were manning the ship's systems, and undergoing seaborne training of their own. They maneuvered their small ships around several large chunks of ice that still floated on the surface of the reservoir. He thought the aquatic training was a wise decision as the alledged enemy Terrans inhabited a world that was something like seventy percent water. Thinking of water made him stare back at the vessel's wake where thirty beings struggled to cross the lake under their own power. He picked up the ship's bull horn and started screaming threats and encouragement at his new recruits.

The noobs swam through the murky red lake water that had been transported from some moon out by Earth 5 or 6, SF-4738 couldn't remember which one off hand. Mahan had them crossing the narrowest section of the lake which was only four kilometers wide, but if 4738 had his way they would have been swimming the entire length of sixteen kilometers instead. Though at times, the veteran sergeant felt a slight bit of pity for them, whenever he gazed at the odd coloring of the lake. When he had under gone his own basic training on Carida the water there had been much more cleaner. The surface of the water here today was covered with a thick film of dust and sand left over from the storm that had swept the planet for the past month. Several of his stronger recruits, who should have been the better swimmers, were struggling with the muck. One of the nearby Seatroopers had told him that if they had done the swim in about a week the lake would have been at pristine levels again. 4738 was glad he didn't wait, training wasn't meant to be clean.

His original platoon had been gutted before the storm came. He had lost twenty of his best troopers including all of his corporals to new units that were forming up. To replace them, near-human newbies had rallied to the flag from the old slave workforce that had come along on the 'big jump'. They were an odd mix of beings. Some had nowhere else to go, others were looking for structure or a new home, while some recognized that Tarkin's Fist wasn't the same as the Galactic Empire that had enslaved them, whatever the reason it was up to Platoon Sergeant SF-4738 to shape them into the something resembling a soldier.

"You think they'll do, Sarge?" Mahan asked. He had been watching several other boats on the lake that were doing training of their own.

"They're fit for garrison duty now Sir, but it remains to be seen what they'll do when the shooting starts. There's no way to tell until then."

"Right, Sergeant." Mahan seemed to be in one of his contemplative moods. "It's kind of strange that they're all near-humans. I mean what would the Emperor say."

"That High Human Culture nonsense was a load of poodoo. I learned long ago that the lowliest Dug or Tusken can always wrap their grubby fingers around a trigger and blow the back of the bravest Stormtrooper's skull out. Near-human troopers will do just as well as human ones."

"Sarge, could you imagine if there had been any Hutts in the fleet and they had signed up?" The picture was comical as soon as it entered 4738's mind.

"Loot, there's not enough plastoid in Tarkin's Fist." He turned back to the recruits in the water. "2934 and 7549 push it, you're falling behind. I'll give you a boot up your shebs if you don't move quicker!" For his trouble the Duro and the Chalactan seemed to put more effort into their strokes for a moment or two. He resigned to keeping an eye on the two faltering noobs for the remainder of the swim. It was a good thing that they feared him, he just hoped that when the time came they feared him more than they did the enemy.

His platoon had picked up, among others, three Fondorians, a Sephi, a pair of Givins, a few Jabiimas, a Saffa and a Rodian, some Umbarans, two really quiet Lorrdians, and even a green Zisian and a blue Blubreen. Not that it mattered to 4738, the only color that mattered was white, the color of their armor. He'd heard scuttlebutt that the fleet was even recruiting female personnel for their warships, to free up more male soldiers for the Naval Troopers. Invasion was in the air, and Fleet Admiral Yos wasn't going to be pulling any punches.

4738 couldn't wait for it. There was only so much training a Stormtrooper could do before he had to blast something, and 4738 could tell from scuttlebutt around the barracks that the Corps was starting to get a little antsy about being cooped up for so long, already a few fist fights had broken out amongst less disciplined units. His own platoon spent most of their days on the blaster range or on forced marches to break in their new armor systems, but most of them had been given leave today to go into Culter City, he was sure he'd be picking up several of then from the Culter City Guard's jail for drunk and disorderly Class 5 ImPeRes before the sun came up tomorrow. Mahan and 4738 had to spend the days busting down the newbies first though.

The troopers finished their swim and dried off as the platoon's field medic looked them over for any signs of hyperthermia. 4738 wasn't surprised that most of them were showing symptoms after the chilling dip. He snarled at them to quickly don their armor as fast as they could. Once several of them had their warm bodygloves on again the color rapidly returned to their skin. However, it took incredibly too long for them to put their suits back on for his liking.

Mahan cut him off before he could even say a word. "Come on you scum, my grandmother could get dressed faster than you sorry lot. Fark this, everyone get down in the mud and give me fifty push-ups right now!" the kid screamed at the troopers. 4738 was glad for his helmet so the men couldn't see him laughing at his platoon leader's imitation of 4738. "That's right you filth, you move that slowly again and you'll keep pushing until Team Coruscant wins the Galactic Cup of Limmie." Several of the sports-minded troopers let out a whine at that threat. SF-4738 didn't follow limmie all that closely, but even he remembered Team Coruscant was a terrible team.

The new troopers finished their punishment and moved with a purpose, to finish getting dressed. 4738 had them grab their rucks and fall into an open patrol formation for a hike back to the barracks. Lieutenant Mahan led the way as SF-4738 moved in and out of the platoon shouting his special encouragement to any trooper that started to lag behind. Mahan led the troopers in a cadence that he must have learned from some of the sailors in the fleet. Its raunchy lyrics about an overly friendly zeltronian female almost made 4738 blush.

Along one side of the lake, they had to move aside as a hover train coming out of Culter City laden with sand from the storm, roared past them. 4738 had heard they were creating some kind of beach dunes from all of the debris that had threatened to bury the colony. It was still a little cold for the civilians to come out here and get some sun he figured, maybe next year. They followed the winding Yos River that ran from the freshwater Culter Sea up in the Margaritifer Terra highlands to Seco Lake, but somewhere on its journey it bisected Culter City. A miracle of terraforming the Holonews had called it.

The sun was quickly disappearing on the horizon as the platoon continued on. After a brisk three hour hike, that at times turned into a run, the small squad was entering the Ares Vallis with the bright lights of Culter City on the horizon. 4738 was busy quizzing the recruits on weapons, history of the corps, and other useful information that was designed to install pride in being a StormTrooper. "4635 what event initiated the formation of the Corps?"

"Sergeant, that would be the Declaration of the New Order." The noob yelled out.

"8549 what year was it issued?"

"Sergeant it was issued in Year 16 of the Great Resynchronization and Year 981 of the Ruusan Reformation on the first Empire Day." Another recruit howled.

"2554 why were the platoons rearranged by Fleet Admiral Yos after the big jump?"

"Um I don't know, Sergeant." The trooper answered in a wavering tone.

"You scum better know why. This is your Corps and you better have pride in it, by Palpatine's balls!" He wasn't sure if the recruits knew the answer anyways. He hadn't taken to the changes all that eagerly in the first place either. The squads had been changed from four eight man squads in a platoon to five squads of ten in each one. five platoons to a massive company, and all the way up to a metric battalion. The things were designed to roll over whatever the Empire would throw at them, and insured that the Tarkin's Fist Stormtrooper Corps usually outnumbered its opponents. All well and good in theory, but 4738 had trouble at times keeping track of who was who in his platoon these days. Mahan had told him Fleet had got the idea from some ancient empire that had once ruled a large portion of Earth. 4738 didn't exactly think it a wise idea to take too many ideas from a civilization that was about to get its shebs handed to it by the current Galactic Empire.
They crested the last hill and the metropolis of Culter City stretched out across the valley below them. The starlight of the Martian moon Phobus shone down on the city, and 4738 could see the ribbon of the Yos River as it flowed through the bright lights of the city. He noticed several barges along the river that suddenly erupted with flaming projectiles that reached for the sky. For a second he feared the city was under some type of aerial attack. All along the river fireworks erupted in a grand show. 4738 could see packed crowds along the river front gazing up at the spectacle.

His own platoon slowed as they stared up at the show ahead of them. This time he didn't yell or scream at them, but instead admired the pyrotechnics as Mahan came alongside of him. "I forgot, today's the one year anniversary of our landing on this world." Mahan informed him.

"That's right Sir. I forgot I had heard they were going to cancel it if the storm continued, but it looks like they still got everything set up in time." He watched as wings of TIE craft swooped over the city releasing more fireworks to add to the celebration. He remembered most of the remainder of his platoon was probably somewhere down in the cheering crowds drunk out of their skulls.

Sonic booms echoed across the wide valley as the noise of the celebrations reached them. "It looks like you're missing a hell of a party, boys." 4738 joked with the troopers as they made their way into the military district. "Just think of the one they'll throw all of us when we conquer Earth." 4738 could see the noobs put more pep into their march to their barracks as they imagined the reception they'd receive when they came home as conquering heroes.
They had new blasters, new armor, and new troopers. The Stormtrooper Corps was ready for a new war.
---------------------------------------------------------
1 Kilometer over Culter City Northern Military District, Mars

The flash and pops of the fireworks display burned into her eyes and attempted to ruin her night vision as the Agen's Light soared out of Culter City. The interior lights of the vessel were doused for the remainder of their personnel mission. Several sonic booms from the aerial display threatened to overload her echolocational senses located in her montrals. Rana, the Duro pilot, flew the freighter with the help of a pair of nightview macrobinoculars one of the Firrerreon girls had procured by less than legal means.

"Agen's Light this is Culter City Flight Control, what is your flight plan?" A subspace radarman's voice cut across the comset.

"Culter City this is Agen's Light we are heading out to Aquifer Filtration Plant Alpha at the northern pole with supplies and a new generator." Rana responded as she guided the starship over a new AT-AT production facility in the militarized zone. Ashla gazed down and saw row after row of the grey behemoths lined up next to each other. They waited in silence for a second as the technician looked for the registered supply requisition.

"Roger that, Agen's Light. You are clear, and remember to stay away from downtown tonight as the fireworks there are scheduled for another three hours. Culter City out." The comset went dead, and as soon as they were past the city limits Rana cut off the running lights on the hull of the craft.

They had taken this supply contract by being the lowest bidder at a government auction the day before. The price they had offered however, barely covered the price of fuel, but it was necessary to get to where they needed to be.

After the disappearance of their two friends Brakatak and Frip, the pack had gone into lockdown mode. The Utais and Firrerreons had searched every jail, cantina, holotheater, brewtap, hospital, recruitment center, tapcafe, and factory around Culter City in an effort to locate their missing friends. Rana and Ashla meanwhile, had focused their search on the Chiewab Corporation. The Duro had ventured into the dangerous winds of the sandstorm over the past weeks to meet with one of their recruiters who had verified that he had indeed hired Frip for their accounting department. When the Ishi Tib hadn't shown up for his first day on the job the male had been concerned, but his superiors hadn't allowed him to try to contact Frip and inquire what had happened to him. He thought it extremely odd when they had ordered him to let the matter drop.

After that Ashlei and Keatly had flirted with a file clerk from the Anoat Sector Squadron and had persuaded him to let them take a peek at a list of all land grants that had been given to the Chiewab Firm by Moff Culter. The list had proved most interesting in that Chiewab seemed to be running several of the large agricultural collectives that were being set up around the planet in an effort to jumpstart farm production. Chiewab specialized in cloned crops from the planet Earth, which were just starting to become available in the markets of Culter City. Ashla had seen some of the vegetables at the grocers and had felt a slight revulsion at the small of them. Erw and Raf had tried out a bunch of them and said they weren't too bad, but Ashla was far from convinced.

It was Raf who came across another anomaly. The little Utai had been sharing his lunch with a spacer who owned the home next to theirs. The man had been inspired by her pack's addition of a circular hanger pit to their home and had hired Erw and Raf to help him build one of his own. He flew a large Action VI bulk freighter and needed all the help he could get. Raf had noticed that the spacer had been loading aboard two dozen ASP-7 labor droids for several of the collectives being managed by the Imperial Livestock and Agricultural Administration. There wasn't anything odd about that except he had another delivery of four B4J4 security droids that were being shipped to a separate Chiewab farm.
That had perked the pack's interest. With a little more investigation Ashla and the rest of the crew had found out that this particular facility hadn't received any shipments of labor droids usually found on an agricultural facility. The only shipments they had received were high end security models, blaster parts, stun weaponry, and a tremendous amount of food for such a remote facility supposedly manned by droids.

The suspected Chiewab farm was located a few kilometers from the main aqueduct that led from the frozen northern pole all the way back to the reservoirs around Culter City. Once they had secured the contract that would alleviate any suspicion as to why they were out that way it was just a matter of a slight course correction and they were at the suspicious facility.

"It'll be about five minutes till we get there." Rana informed her. The Duro's features were only illuminated by the slight glow of the flight panel. "I'll have to slow down my speed to almost nothing so we're not heard coming in."

"That's fine. It'll be more than I need to get off." Ashla assured her friend. "I'm going to get ready. Signal green when we're
there."

"Will do." They didn't even realize that they had been whispering to each other during their focus on the secret mission.
Ashla was dressed in a small black half top and black shorts. She had streaks of black camouflage streaked across her arms, belly and legs to break up her profile, and had decided that her natural red skin tones would blend nicely into the Martian landscape. She moved back into the crew compartment near the loading ramp where Ashlei and Keatly waited. The two girls quickly wrapped her blue and white montrals in black tape, while the Jedi removed her boots to feel more connected with the ground once she landed. Erw and Raf stood by the ramp, slowly lowering it to a rush of cool air. Ashla quickly echo located to make sure the tape hadn't slowed down her Togruta senses.

"Remember what you're up against." Ashlei reminded. "Not only have we confirmed delivery to the site of the four B4J4s, but there are also eight HXZ-1 Immobilzers, two K4s, and a very scary looking S-EP1."

"Those things are supposedly pretty pricy, so somebody wants whatever is down there to be well protected." Keatly added.

"Hopefully it's Frip, Brakatak, and his herd." Ashla sighed. She checked her lightsaber and refused the blaster Keatly offered, though she did take a pair of black nightview goggles and wrapped them around her head. With her montrals, Jedi senses, and the top of the line military nightview she felt as if she was in broad daylight. She flipped through the settings until the crew compartment was bathed in a green light.

"Fifteen seconds." Erw whispered from the ramp. The two Utai's eyes shown eerily in the low light device as she got to her feet. She moved to the ramp and stared at the small red light alongside the exit, and waited for the signal. Below her the surface of Mars slowed to crawl as it passed by in a whir. It suddenly changed hues as the Jedi recognized that they were passing over planted fields instead of red desert. The red light turned green.

Ashla Ti felt herself plummet for a fraction of a second before reaching out with the Force to cushion her impact. She bent at the knees and rolled forward to maintain her balance. Her lightsaber was instantly in her hand, but she didn't activate it for fear it would give away her position. She felt, more than saw the Agen's Light slip away to the north. She paused to listen quietly as she stood in the field until her montrals screamed. She moved the weapon in her right hand under her left arm and activated it, swinging violently upwards as she spun around in time to watch as a HXZ-1 Immobilizer split into two melted halves. Ashla slowly lowered both pieces to the soil with telekinesis to avoid a loud crash. The droid must have been trying to sneak up on her with a stun baton in an effort to capture her. It gave her a small amount of hope that her friends were still alive.

She flattened to the ground as she realized there were other things moving through the darkness at the edge of the field. She reached out with the Force and detected more of the bulky cylindrical HXZs moving in to encircle her. The cheap security droids must have been assigned to perimeter security and she practically dropped on top of the one she had already dispatched, evidently after it had already sent a warning signal to it comrades.

She hugged the ground for a few meters as she moved amongst several knee high rows of some kind of alien Earth crop. Every time one of their leaves would brush her skin that area of flesh would erupt in an intense itch. No matter what anyone told her, Earth foods weren't for Togrutas she decided.

She peeked her head up to get her bearings and spotted several large silos next to a tool shed and large bunkhouse that sat in front of some sort of landing pad. The bunk house itself was built with a large security door in place, and Ashla could detect stray beams of light coming from inside. She also noticed a pair of K4 security droids standing guard in front of it while the four B4J4s moved in her direction from the landing pad. It was a sure bet they knew she was here, and the crouching Jedi wondered how much longer before Chiewab security in Culter City were alerted to that fact as well. She figured she had twenty minutes before they could get a team out here. She didn't have a lot of time to waste crawling around in a field.

A bright green flash came out of the darkness and her Jedi reflexes reactivated her lightsaber in time to deflect the bolt. It wasn't the only one. The remaining seven HXZ-1s knew where she was and laid into her position with concentrated fire from their heavy blaster pistols. Ashla regained her feet again and focused her battle meditation on the Perseverance Form, Shien of Form V of lightsaber combat, and half of her master's legacy to her. Her lightsaber's hilt was held high above her as she whirled it around her like a giant blue orb. The droids engaged her from ranges of fifty to a hundred meters, but their proximity didn't slow her a bit from deflecting the destructive bolts back to their origins. One after another the HXZs erupted into small fireballs until all seven were nothing more than small piles of scrap metal.

She switched her stance and held the lightsaber before her as she rushed the bunkhouse. She reached for the tiny comlink inside her ear and activated it. "Rana, Ishi Tib, Ishi tib." She quickly gave the signal for extraction before refocusing on the battle. She didn't know how far the Agen's Light had gotten towards their scheduled delivery, but she hoped her pack wasn't more than three minutes away.

The four B4J4s rushed at her as she moved out of the field and the K4s laid down a base of fire to cover for the other droids. Before she realized she had done it she Force pushed the lead B4J4 through the air and over the silos. A few seconds later she was rewarded with a distant explosion as the droid smacked into the ground. She ducked under the next droids attack and neatly sliced the third in half at the waist, before spinning and decapitating the second one. The last one stood its ground as it started to unload its entire clip of tibanna into her lightsaber.

Ashla used the Force to jump as high as she could to throw its aim off. At the same moment she launched her lightsaber
like a humming blue boomerang directly into the droid's chest. It collapsed into a series of pops and snaps as its CPU died. The two K4s, seeing she was now unarmed moved on her from the bunkhouse. Without a second thought she picked up one of the droids with the Force and violently smashed it into its brother. They both lay in a smoldering pile of rubble as silence came over the agricultural collective once more. She reached out for her lightsaber and it flew from the droids chest to return to her hand.

The camouflaged Togruta caught her breath as she jogged the remainder of the way to the bunkhouse. With a quick slash of the blade the security device was severed. Ashla hesitated as she reached for the door because she had heard the first faint sounds of the Agen's Light returning through the night. That hesitation was all it took as powerful yard lights snapped on from atop the silos bathing the whole farm in bright illumination. Inside her nightview goggles it was as if somebody had blown up a sun in front of her eyes. She clutched at the device as she heard a scrapping noise from the bunkhouse and suddenly a heavy metal figure was upon her. Her lightsaber was thrown free from her grip.

Her vision came back just in time to witness the sight of a S-EP1 security droid kneeling on her chest with its knee as it shoved the business end of a stun staff into her ribs. The resulting shock sent intense pain throughout her body. Just as the droid was about to hit her in the head with the weapon, blasts from the Agen's Light Tri-laser cannon ripped into its chest, and threw it to the ground along side of her. Both the Jedi and the droid tried to scramble to their feet first, and the Togruta was amazed that the droid was still functioning after being on the receiving end of a blast like that.

The Jedi knight swore the droid actually let out a snarl as it lunged towards her. With a thought her Jedi weapon was in her hand again. The droid couldn't stop its forward motion in time. With a flick of her wrist Ashla cut clean through the stun staff and drove the blade home directly into the droids photoreceptive eye socket. It took a step or two more before it realized it was dead and collapsed to the ground.

She retracted the blade in her hand and collected her breath as she watched Rana land the Agen's Light in the field. Her montrals let her know that beings were pouring out of the farmhouse behind her, but the Force told her that they meant her no harm. Ashla turned to face them and was greeted by the sight of a small herd of Gran. One of them gathered her up in a powerful hug that swept her bare feet from the ground.

"Thank you, Thank you." The Gran said over and over. Ashla got the feeling that it was a female and she reached out for Brakatak and Frip, but couldn't detect them in the Force nearby.

"Tupolek!" Ashlei's voice yelled with joy from the freighter.

"Where are the others? Where are Brakatak and Frip?" Ashla asked the joyful Gran when she set her back down. Ashlei and Keatly must have recognized several of the Gran as they were being hugged and greeted by everyone coming out of the bunkhouse.

"It's just us here, Jedi. You are a Jedi aren't you?" Tupolek responded amd pointed at the lightsaber in her hand.

"Yes."

"There's just a hundred and twenty eight females here. They took Frekfrek and the other males of the herd somewhere else. We don't have a clue where to either. Did you say you were looking for Brakatak and Frip? We haven't seen them since the slave ship." Tupolek explained.

A buzzing in her ear let the Togruta know Rana was trying to get a hold of her. "Ashla we got to get those Gran aboard. Sensors are indicating a charter craft is coming up out of Culter City in our direction. It's not police or military either." Company thugs she thought, they'd bomb the farm, kill everyone, and bury the evidence if they got here.

She stepped back and yelled above the crowd. "Everyone, we've got company coming. Get aboard the freighter now!" The Gran didn't waste any time. They saw their chance of freedom and grabbed it with both hands. The Jedi Knight didn't know how they managed it, but they somehow found room aboard for all of the Gran refugees.

She climbed into the cockpit alongside of Rana as the Duro lifted them off again. Not a moment too soon as two minutes later their sensors detected the craft landing in the area of the agricultural collective. She breathed a sigh of relief as they raced back into Culter City.

The only question that bothered her was where Frip and Brakatak were.

[Kalanidavidg]

Conference Chamber, Tarkin Tower, Culter City, Mars

The Director of Fleet Intelligence sat in the weekly Admiral's briefing politely listening to Moff Culter's report on his terraforming efforts. Rather Yutu was doing all he could to keep his eyelids open as the governor droned on and on about the progress his small army of technicians and droids had accomplished over the course of the past year.

Yutu distracted himself by thinking whether or not they should change their definition of what a year was anymore. The Martian orbit around its sun was almost twice as long as the Galactic standard year which all of Tarkin's Fist was accustomed to. But like everything else on this planet, he wondered how long before the beings of Culter City differenced themselves even further from the Empire.

Moff Culter himself was a likeable man, and was usually quite open with his dealings with fleet. That in itself was always welcome after Yutu had to maintain a third of the Bureau of Operation's field agents in intelligence gathering intel on Moffs Kuat and Seco, when they could have been better directed towards the impending war with Earth. Though truth be told, he hadn't been able to implant any agents on the third planet either. The Moff from the Anoat Sector was usually found with his head buried in some terraforming project or another. Culter had freely relinquished all of his military forces to Fleet Admiral Yos's command, and much to the amusement of Yos, hadn't even been aware that he was in possession of the last full Clone Corps in the Imperial Army. The Kamino series clones made up the three largest legions in the newly named 1st Martian Sector Army.

He stared across the room at Admiral Bacara's profile, and was amazed at the clone's audacity and commitment to his brothers. Yutu had learned how over the period of five years the male had smuggled countless clones into units under his command. How he had stayed one step ahead of the ISB and even Imperial Intelligence in his maneuverings. The move had impressed Fleet Admiral Yos so much that he had personally guaranteed that the Clone Wars veterans wouldn't see frontline duty in the upcoming conflict as long as they continued to serve in a support capacity. They were even promised large land grants on Mars at the completion of their service.

Culter argued with Seco for a few moments over the diversion of resources into the construction of a giant mirror-ship at the KDY mobile shipyard. Culter stated it was necessary for longer agriculture growing cycles and for bringing added warmth to the planet. Seco wanted to wait until after the Earth war was over and the home galaxy was located before diverting funds into experimental starships. When the issue was put to a vote no one was surprised when Moff Kuat and the Fleet Admiral sided with Culter.

Culter continued his briefing with news that they had just begun to dig massive channels into the Martian mantle in order to form colossal vents for hot gases, while other teams were trying to cover the southern pole with black and red soil in an attempt to capture heat and melt the ice caps. The Imperial Governor promised that Mars would be a tropical paradise in under a year. Again, Yutu wasn't sure whether he meant a Martian year or a galactic standard one.

Once the Moff was finished with his lengthy report he had one last request for a pair of EF76 Nebulon B escort frigates to carry a few of his terraformers for preliminary study of Earth 2 and several moons around Earth 5 and 6 for future terraforming efforts. Before Moff Seco could even raise the objection, Yos cut off the argument by granting Culter the use of only one of the warships for reconnaissance purposes. Culter didn't even raise an arguement, and for a moment Yutu wondered if the unassuming Moff didn't have a killer array somewhere up his sleeve somewhere.

After the special report from the Anoat Moff the briefing got off to its usual start. Captain Charge gave his updates on supply and repair issues as well as the progress of the two new warships and the mirror-ship currently under construction at the drive yard. Captain Dual followed him with his report. His was shorter than usual, because all training had been put on hold and the army had been put on stand-by alert, while the fleet gathered and waited around the Earth's moon.
Yutu took his place in the center of the circular room when it became his turn to present. A map reader illuminated a Holoprojection of the Earth over him with a bright icon indicating the location of the city where the upcoming diplomatic talks were to be held.

"The Earth's defensive forces seem to be maintaining their lower levels of alert ever since their contact with Moff Kuat aboard the Kuat's Throat a week ago." He looked at the Kuati who nodded his appreciation of the recognition. Yutu continued, "The sheer volume of communications traffic has returned and we believe the Earth nations are trying to overload our sensors in an attempt to bury their most valuable signals in the crowd."

"Are they attempting to move against us?" Moff Seco leaned forward to ask.

"The activity at the space defense installations seems to be about null, but we have detected large troop movements by most of the Earth nations of their ground forces. We think this is in relation to our cessation of our electronic warfare efforts over the past week. Their supreme command is reacting with more control and supervision now that they can reach their troops in the field."

"Just how are they deploying their armies and what are their intentions, Captain." Seco demanded.

"The Captain isn't a telepath, Moff Seco. He can't read minds, no matter how simple the Terran ones seem to be." Yos defended him. Yutu was grateful for the interference as Seco tended to become a little aggressive in his line of questioning.

"Their intentions at this time are unclear. The movements themselves seemed to be mostly into rural areas of their world. Large armor and artillery units have moved away from their bases and large cities. We've also witnessed a migration of parts of the civilian population moving away from urban areas as well. We believe the Earthlings feel that the cities will soon be targeted by our forces." He noticed as Yos and Seco exchanged a shielded look with each other. "Even though some large infantry units have been moved into some cities, Intelligence believes this is a move aimed at their own population in the form of riot and crowd control measures."

"What of this San Francisco?" Yos inquired.

The map reader zoomed in on a holographic representation of a large bay area. "The North American Union maintains several ocean-going naval facilities in the bay area." Areas of the map highlighted as he spoke of them. "We have witnessed the mobilization of most of the sea-going vessels out to sea. We have requested with the NAU that the vessels maintain a distance of two hundred kilometers during the talks with the Chief Ambassador." His eyes locked for a moment to the youngling female who sat behind the Fleet Admiral. He wasn't used to her presence at the meeting, especially after she had started studies with the first class at the Imperial Martian Fleet Academy several blocks away. "They have a missile test facility several hundred kilometers south of the city, but we haven't detected any unusual activity at this base either. It was heavily struck by our TIE attack last month and seems to be undergoing large repairs at this time."

"Why haven't all the earth governments agreed to attend this meeting?" Culter asked.

"We have determined that the NAU has only invited those governments that it considers to be its strategic allies. Though over a hundred nations were omitted from their request the only significant ones we felt were left out was the European Union and the Union of South American Nations, which recently fought a war with the NAU. The Russian Federation supposedly kept the EU from joining that war against the North Americans, while the nations of China and India routinely swap the title of the most populous countries on Earth with populations nearing two billion each. China in its own right is considered to be what they have coined a 'SuperPower'. Though not by Imperial standards." There was a small chuckle from the supreme command members at the Earthling's sense of entitlement.

"Back to the resumption of Earth's communications, they have sent a request of the Ambassador's needs while she is meeting with them. Actually it was quite comical. The Earthlings asked whether or not we drank water or if we'd like to share a meal with them, what types of food can we consume. It showed quite a lack of understanding of us on the Terran's part, or as had been guessed by some, it could be a way of finding out what poisons us."

"Is there an apparent threat to the Ambassador during the negotiations?" Yos took the tones of a concerned parent rather than his usual command presence.

"As I've said Sir, none that we've detected. Intelligence has examined hundreds of examples of strategic negotiations the Earthlings have conducted between themselves, besides a few strange customs, they do not have a history of betraying each other at such events. As for the poisoning threat, we have determined from our examinations of the Terran prisoners here on Mars that they are either a human or near-human species and are subject to all types of fatality, exactly as we are. A contingent of Bureau StormTroopers, that have been serving as DiploServe bodyguards, will accompany the Chief Ambassador on her trip." Yutu watched as Yos shifted in his seat to turn and give his young daughter a reassuring smile.

"2nd Lieutenant Yos is more than capable of figuring out what protocol expects of her, and we have given her several examples of Earth's culture." Yutu said.

"That is true," Phasma interrupted. "I assure you that I am well versed in the current political maneuverings of the Earthlings. I do not plan to stay long enough to eat with these beings. Our goal is to deliver the terms, force them to agree to them, and then return to Tarkin's Fist. Do you have any new intel on what possible conditions the Terrans might counter with Captain?" Yutu was constantly amazed with how sharp the younger Yos's mind was.

"As you know the terms are particularly harsh. The Earth hasn't been beaten and before our arrival held no fear for the Galactic Empire. They may not accept the terms at all, much to their regret." Yutu answered.

"Here. Here." Seco echoed his own glee at the prospect.

"If they do offer counterpoints to our terms, we suspect they will be along the lines of recognition of their sovereignty, the return of their moon, or perhaps payments of some sort. If they existed in our own galaxy they would submit to our initial presence, agree to the establishment of an imperial garrison, and then apply for membership in the Imperial Senate, thus becoming equal members in our own government. Our own civilian population here on Mars would probably settle for a solution along those lines, but the armed forces and we here in this room would never stand for it." Yutu offered.

"I wholeheartedly agree." Seco stated, "They are not or equals, even if they do prove to be human, they are not Imperials."

"Perhaps in a generation or two, under our rule?" Culter wondered.

"That may work," Yos countered, "Our former slaves have built and shaped the society that we find ourselves in today. I hear more and more of them on the street refer to themselves as an Imperial or even a Martian, while at the same time there is a palpable hate for the Terrans after the Insertion disaster last year."

"We should have done more in the way of punitive measures after that attack." Seco suggested as Yutu held his tongue. With the tibanna shortages the fleet had felt a back then, there simply hadn't been a way to strike back sufficiently at the enemy. He had seen reports that the casualties the Earthlings had suffered during the TIE attacks on their nuclear arsenals were several times greater than what the fleet had lost of the Insertion.

"Back to the issue of the San Francisco meeting." Yos kept to the matter that concerned him the most. "Besides her Stormtroopers, what else do you suggest for the event, Captain?"

"The earthlings in the NAU are already making an issue about it in their own version of the HoloNews. They seem to keep referring to the Second Lieutenant's visit as the Close Encounter with the Aliens." The Fleet Admiral's face turned into a scowl at the apparent insult of his only child. "There will be massive media coverage of the event, though NAU security personnel should keep them at a safe distance while Phasma meets with their leaders. We will be sending several basic HoloCams along with her to record the event for our own HoloNews service. An entire TIE wing as well as the Flood will be in orbit above to provide air cover."

"That is all well and good Captain, but there is one more thing I would like before we undertake this diplomatic mission." Yos voice grew cold.

"Yes, Sir?"

"I want your personal guaranty that no harm will befall the Ambassador during her mission." Yos stared icily at the Yutu. Yutu suddenly felt himself snapping to attention.

"You have it Sir. I promise no harm will come to Phasma Yos." He swallowed hard as he wondered what the consequences of that promise being broken were.
---------------------------------------
Nu-class Attack Shuttle Rishi, Earth Approach


The datapad in her lap displayed the information Fleet Intelligence had gleaned from the easily-accessed 'internet' about every Earth diplomat that was suspected to be in attendance at the conference. Phasma had been memorizing it for three weeks now, or two weeks by the Earth's lower standards. By now, she knew every scandal and foible of the males and females she would be face to face with in less than an hour.

The datapad itself wasn't her own personnel one, but was an old outdated version of what she was used to. It had been given to her by Captain Yutu, and would wipe its memory the moment her shuttle set down. It was just one of the security measures the Bureau of Operations had emplaced on her for this mission. The Joint-Captains at the Bureau had long suspected that the Earth's own intelligence services would use this opportunity to gather as much intel on Tarkin's Fist as they possibly could. As a result her Corusca red and white Nu shuttle had been greatly stripped and reduced from its usual classifications. Its weapons, deflector shields, hyperdrive, and nav computer had all been removed for the purpose of this journey.

The only droids that were allowed to accompany her were three HoloCam droids that she knew had been programmed to return to orbit if anything happened to her, so that Earth's scientists wouldn't have the chance to extract any new technology from their systems. She'd gotten used to the HoloCams buzzing around her, as she had become something of a celebrity in Culter City over the past months, due to her father's position. She wondered how many military weapons the Terrans could develop if they got a hold of a working droid.

The hardest thing to swallow had been the appearance of her guard force. As head of DiploServe and the Chief Ambassador to Tarkin's Fist she had rated her own squad of Stormtroopers. Phasma had ordered them early in their service to her to color their armor in the blue hues of the Senatorial Guard on Imperial Center. The blue Stormtroopers had become a symbol of her office on Mars, and were a common sight at the Mars Academy when she attended classes. Now the ten males and her two pilots were dressed in the uniforms of Imperial Naval CPOs, minus the code cylinders on their rank insignia. Each of the bodyguards carried a slugthrower weapon that had been captured from the Earthlings on their local moon, instead of their normal Blastech E-11s. Even the pilots were missing their helmets and had to make do with basic head sets to guide her vessel. She wondered if her father knew that these overly-zealous security precautions were putting her safety at risk.

It could be worse, she told herself, Phasma could be attending another lecture at the Academy. The school itself had only been open for three months now and Phasma had been admitted into the first class of cadets at the Mars Academy. She was also by far the youngest cadet. That and the fact of who her father was hadn't made her a lot of friends. Younglings her age in Culter City were attending primary and secondary schools around the city, and wouldn't be sent to the Academy for another six years. The twelve year old wondered if she was missing out on something by not having contact with younglings her own age.

Not that many who ever met her considered her a youngling for very long. The Moffs she dealt with on a daily basis had done that at first, but her own thriving command presence had come to dominate the Imperial Governors. Kuat had even mentioned that he had a theory that she must have Kuati or Denonian royal blood somewhere in her ancestry.
"Ambassador, we have three airspeeders coming out of the upper atmosphere over the lesser continental mass on an intercept course." The pilot notified her.

"I thought they only had atmospheric fighters." The Sergeant in charge of her bodyguards asked.

"We're not picking up any life signs. They seem to be unmanned, and they're hailing us." The pilot added.
"Answer them then." Phasma commanded.

"This is Shuttle Rishi carrying the Chief Ambassador."

"Shuttle Rishi this is NORAD please follow the three vessels approaching you in. We have more planes below them waiting to escort you in to your meeting in San Francisco." A voice with a strange accent informed them over the commo. She wondered if she should have asked for a TIE escort of her own to show the Earthlings what they were dealing with.
The mystery craft came along side of her shuttle and Phasma joined the pilots in the cockpit as they gave the machines a look over. "They're not being recognized by the flight computer." The pilot informed her.
"They must be something new if Intelligence hasn't picked up on their existence yet." Phasma added. "I wonder why they're showing them to us now."

"I bet it's a warning, like in Sabacc when you don't want your opponent to know all the cards your hold, but you want them to know you got at least one possible killer array." The co-pilot answered. "I bet those are the only prototypes of that type of craft, and the Earthlings want us to think they've got a whole lot more down there somewhere."

The starfighters in question were lethal looking. If they were equipped with cockpits they would have looked exactly like black painted cloakshape fighters. The pilot sped up a little and saw to her delight that the droid craft were at maximum power levels to maintain their speed. The Nu shuttle shivered a little as it came into contact with the upper layers of the blue planet's atmosphere. The star fighters pulled away and the shuttle was being asked to join the formation of a large wing of airspeeders below. This time the flight computer quickly identified the fighters as X-44 Mantas and a few F-35 Lightning IIIs from the NAU Air Force. There were almost thirty of the fighters in the formation that guided her shuttle into its destination.

She reached down and swiped the memory on her datapad before notifying her security detail that they would be landing soon. The altitude got lower and lower over a giant blue ocean. Phasma had never seen so much water in her entire life, though until over a year and a half ago it was spent entirely in the Subterrel Sector. White caps crested the tops of waves as the shuttle shot over them. The pilot pointed forward and Phasma saw a purple-like land mass rising out of the ocean ahead. It was covered in a slight brown haze as far as she could see as it stretched to the north and south.

"We're being tracked by several primitive sensors Ambassador, but we haven't detected any weapon systems locking onto us as of yet." The co-pilot informed her. "Our escort is guiding us towards that inlet over there." He pointed towards a large open bay with a beautiful orange colored bridge spanning its entrance. The fighters started to break off as they made their approach. The pilot told her he was following a signal being sent from one of their local landing pads.

"Slow us down a bit. I want to have a good look around as we enter the city." She ordered. The shuttle came to a crawl as it cruised over the bridge. She had expected to see her first sight of alien landspeeders, but the bridge instead was full of a large crowd of pedestrians. Many of them were holding signs written in alternative basic, but neither the pilots nor her could read the sentiment scrawled across them.

"They're either thrilled to see us or angry we're in the neighborhood." The pilot observed as they left the bridge behind them. They over flew a small island in the middle of the bay which looked like one of the old forts used in the Old Republic's early days. They turned south and Phasma was amazed to see the citizens of the city were lined up along the waterfronts of both sides of the bay in an attempt to get a look at her arrival. These Terrans really must be unaccustomed to off-world travel she told herself.

They over flew what appeared to be an ocean-going naval shipyard before coming to a stop alongside a long flat road. The pilot started his landing procedure as the shuttle folded its wings upward before coming to rest before a packed review stand. Outside she caught one last glimpse of hundreds of politicians and military personnel, before descending once again into the cargo compartment to rejoin her bodyguards. She let the craft sit for a long few moments to let the pilots idle down the engine while building suspense for the Earthlings outside. When she felt they were ready Phasma motioned to the guards at the exit and the boarding hatch descended out of the craft's 'chin'.

Her ten guards filed out first and took up a flanking honor position at the bottom of the ramp. Phasma looked herself over once more to insure that her white ambassadorial gown was in place and to mentally prepare herself for the execution of her duty. She then stepped down the ramp.

Phasma was surprised as a large band rang out to greet her with the strands of the Imperial March, but her composure concealed her emotions. She wondered if Captain Yutu had anything to do with the Earthling's sudden knowledge of the tune. She saw several uniformed beings with video recording equipment on the fringe of the crowd. Phasma took the lack of cheers from the stands as a sign of respect, but she noticed several of the beings in them seemed shocked at her appearance. At only twelve years the Stormtroopers to either side of her dwarfed her in stature. Four Earthlings waited for her at the end of a strange red carpet. She figured they didn't want her to get her feet dirty on the tarmac of the landing pad. A very thoughtful gesture for a species of aborigines she decided. Though if they truly wanted to show respect they would have laid out a blue one as was custom in the Home Galaxy, maybe red meant the same thing to these Earthlings.
As the head of DiploServe she immediately recognized each of the four beings, though she couldn't tell if the nervousness in each of their eyes was shock at her appearance or unease at how to approach and greet her. Phasma had studied Earth's own customs and made the first move by offering a handshake to President Harris of the North American Union. After greeting the host of the negotiations Premier Dukuo of the People's Republic of China introduced her to Premier Chukov of the Russian Federation and Prime Minister Naptu of India, both of whom were female.

"Excuse me, Chief Ambassador…" Harris started.

"Yos."

"Chief Ambassador Yos, are all of your species so young looking?"

"They are at my age; I am twelve years of age." Phasma informed the group. She noted several of them raised an eyebrow or two out of concern. "Is there somewhere we can discuss matters a little more privately?"

"Of course we have a suite set up for us in one of the city's finest hotels." Harris assured her.

"I wasn't planning on staying for an extended period. Is there somewhere here we can use?" Phasma asked again. She reminded herself that she was the representative of the most powerful civilization present, no matter what they thought of her appearance. Their own appearances weren't that impressive. The four of them seemed to be wearing identical outfits except the Russian female wore a short type of skirt and the two males wore some kind of cloth tied in a knot around their necks.

"Perhaps Mr. President, we can move the proceedings into one of the hanger areas, where we can have a bit of privacy from your media services." The Prime Minister of India offered. He nodded his agreement, and signaled to one of his security personnel their intentions. The group started to move towards the nearest hanger, which housed a giant blue and white airspeeder that the President told her was his own personal transport. His security men moved ahead and most of the crowd in the stands was kept in place as the group moved indoors.

Phasma felt bad about moving inside, not about refusing the Earthlings first offer of a better facility, but about moving out of the sunlight. The day was mild for Earth, but sweltering by Martian standards. There was a brief moment of confusion as her guard detail started to follow her. What she learned later was the Secret Service objected to the presence of the armed beings around their President as well as the strange mechanical orbs that followed the proceedings. Phasma told her guard troop to stay with the shuttle and assured the diplomats that the HoloCams were harmless, before they continued to the hanger.

"Ambassador Yos, would you be any relation to your Fleet Admiral Yos?" The Indian Prime Minister asked.

"The Fleet Admiral is my father." She returned with deadpan emotion. She had been warned the humans would try to get as much intelligence out of her as possible.

"A little bit of nepotism in your culture isn't there." The President seemed to be making a joke as they entered the hanger. "I'd probably get a lot more accomplished if I gave my kids positions in my own administration." Phasma didn't laugh.

"An excellent development, though." Premier Chukov stated to the other leaders, while Phasma wondered what she meant by it.

"I'm just glad she's human and not a little ET." President Harris laughed at his assumed joke.

"Humans are one of the dominant species of the galaxy," Phasma explained. "For example, there are over three hundred billion humans on Imperial Center alone." Each of the four leaders slowed their steps for a second as the impact of her words hit them. They entered the hanger in silence.

A few beings were carrying several tables and chairs to the front of the airspeeder. Phasma naturally presumed the big black chair made of some kind of animal hide was hers and took her place across from the other four politicians. A hostess of some type offered her some water or another beverage if she preferred. Phasma told her that water was fine, and the female poured her a glass and then disappeared.

"I would like to start this conference by asking what requests you have of the Galactic Empire," Phasma started, "before you hear our terms."

"I'll start," the Russian Premier began, "We ask for reparations for damages caused in your Empire's unlawful attack on our military weapon facilities and nuclear energy plants. We also ask for all attacks on those same areas to cease so that we may make repairs to those bases."

"The only attacks the forces of the Empire continue to make are on military targets that resume nuclear production. We have the means to detect such efforts and condone the pursuit of any such endeavors. If your beings put as much effort into actual nuclear research as you have into ridiculous nuclear weaponry you would have reached beyond your own system by now. We do not ask for reparations in your treacherous attack on one of our warships last year, so we consider the matters to nullify each other. Anything else?" Phasma responded with as much ice and venom as possible. These beings needed to know how to fear the Empire.

"The People's Republic of China would like the return of our astronauts as well as those of the NAU that were captured on Mars and at the Eagle Base on the moon." Dukou declared.

"Anything else?" Phasma ignored the request. The captives had proven to be an intelligence gold mine and Yutu had assured her that their return was non-negotiable at this juncture.

"We concede Mars to the Galactic Empire as well as the outer planets, but we would like the return of our moon to us as well as recognition of our sovereignty by the Galactic Empire." Harris informed her. "We would also like assistance in setting up a diplomatic and trade mission to negotiate a peace treaty with your Emperor."

"His name is Palpatine, and his Grace does not involve himself in such dealings. In future negotiations with the Empire know that Fleet Admiral Yos is supreme commander in this Sector and that his word is law. If you agree to our terms we can assist in a future diplomatic mission to our capitol on Mars."

"Wait, shouldn't your capitol be where ever your Emperor is?" Naptu asked.

Phasma felt like kicking herself. "The Galactic Empire's capitol is located on Imperial Center. I was talking of our sector headquarters in Culter City." She hoped she wasn't revealing too much, but the Earthlings already knew they had a city on the fourth planet, so what if they knew what it was named.

Dukou continued. "We have our own history with Empires. Administering them can be troublesome at times."

"That is our own worry." Phasma dismissed him. Already her father was a smaller version of the Emperor in his own way. He even had Moffs answering to him.

"Our only other concern is our own air space. We would like exclusive rights to the space surrounding our planet to the distance equal to our moon's orbit." The Chinese Premier finished.

"Is that all? I expected more, but this is just an initial meeting and you do not truly understand the Empire's depths as of yet. Your requests are rejected." Phasma waited a second to let that sink in with the politicians.

"Our first condition is the recognition of your four nations of the Empire's ownership of all natural bodies in this system from the inner most planets to the very furthest asteroid beyond Earth 8. Secondly, we demand that you recognize your status as a protectorate within the Galactic Empire. As such, we demand payment for our protection, mostly in the form of two billion tons of agricultural and livestock products, as well as a billion tons of precious metals of a type to be determined at a future negotiation. That is from each of your nations, and is per every Earth year." She knew those demands would bankrupt any nation that accepts them; by the looks on the diplomat's faces they knew it too.

"Thirdly, we demand the disarmament of your armed forces, and the cessation of all nuclear power output. We are prepared to assist you in the disposal of any types of nuclear waste products if we detect the necessity. Fourth we ask that you hand over the beings responsible for attack on our warship last year for war trials." This actually wasn't really a concern of the Tarkin's Fist, but intelligence had shown the Earthlings would never turn over their soldiers for performing their lawful duties.

"Our last term is that each of your nations turn over citizens in the amount of three million beings every year for a period of ten years for imperial service and induction into the Empire's dominion. Failure to meet any of our terms is a declaration of war between all Earth nations and the 1st Galactic Empire." Phasma finished.

"That's outrageous!" President Harris was on his feet, but Phasma failed to be intimidated by him. "The agricultural and mining demands are extreme in themselves, but for you to ask us to turn over our own citizens to become some kind of, of…" he stuttered in his struggle to find the term.

"Slaves!" Naptu helped him.

"Yes, slaves! That's ridiculous and insulting. Where would we even come up with such a population to hand over to you?"

"We have discovered that the NAU has about that many of its own citizens incarcerated in its prison system, and hardly gets any labor out of them. China is also nearing those numbers in its own penal systems. We would also look kindly on any Mandalorian citizen you turn over to us." Phasma suggested. "We have also noticed that the NAU has a large population of its own indigenous population confined to areas you call reservations. All four of your nations have large foreign workforces and large areas of discontent. Russia with its southern territories and India with its areas that are filled with a population of another religion besides your officially recognized one give you no end of terrorism troubles. You also have members of the lower castes of your society."

"Those are still our people." Naptu retorted.

"Fine then, procure them from somewhere else. Do you think I would not have noticed who has been omitted from this negotiation? Steal them from the European Union or the Union of South American Nations. You cannot tell me that you would rather not send Pakistani citizens into servitude rather than up-standing Indian beings." For a moment she could see the Prime Minister consider the notion.

"A war with the European Union would cost more Russian lives than you are asking for, believe me we fought them twice a century ago, and Russia was never the same." Chukov countered.

"It would be near impossible to convince the North American people to return to a war with the Southerners at this time. Why are we even discussing this? Another war while making deliveries to the Empire would end us. It's not like the Empire is even offering to assist in any conflict we undertake." Harris stated.

"Our troops will be more well spent protecting your planet from outside threats to your system from outside of the Empire, of which there are many." Phasma bluffed, but she hoped she gave them something new to consider. The young ambassador leaned back in her chair and observed the four Earth leaders argue between themselves for several minutes before they abruptly ceased. All four of the heads-of-state turned and faced her with overtly polite expressions on their features. She had been expecting them to be begging for mercy by now.

"Chief Ambassador Yos, may my colleagues and I have a few moments of privacy to discuss your proposal. You may wait for our answer at your spaceship." Dukuo smiled sweetly, while the other three nodded politely.
"That is acceptable. I look forward to hearing your answer, so that I may bring news of your capitulation to the Fleet Admiral." She rose from her chair and bowed to each of the world leaders before being escorted by a Secret Service agent outside of the hanger. Behind her the politicians continued their discussion under the nose of the giant Presidential airspeeder.

The warm inland breeze greeted her as she strolled out onto the tarmac once again. Her security noticed her and jogged over to greet her. The sergeant in charge of her squad glared at the Secret Service agents to back off of their charge. "How was your meeting, Ambassador?" the NCO asked, as they moved towards the shuttle.

"About as well as could be expected FG-5638." She answered. Phasma noticed the review stands had been emptied, but there seemed to have been an increase in NAU military personnel around the landing pad, though they were maintaining their distance from the shuttle. Her pilot and co-pilot had been sitting on the boarding ramp as they approached, but rose to their feet when they noticed the Ambassador's approach.

"Will they accept our terms?" FG-5638 asked.

"We shall soon see…" Phasma was interrupted by a shrieking noise that ripped across the tarmac. She snapped her head towards the source of the noise and saw a missile erupting from a wheeled landspeeder at the end of the long cement road connected to the landing pad. She watched in horror as the projectile slammed into the side of the shuttle. The initial explosion shattered the bodies of the flight crew before they were consumed in the blast.

"It's a trap!"

Next to her FG-5638 hit a detonator in his hand and several secondary explosions of intense heat melted the vital systems of the Nu shuttle, just as the Secret Service agents around them raised their own weapons and demanded her surrender. Her troopers pointed their slugthrowers at the Terran soldiers that surrounded them and maintained a stand-off for several seconds, before she ordered them to lower their weapons.

The Secret Service moved in to take her into custody. FG-5638 turned to her with desperation washing over his façade. "Phasma, what just happened?"

"The Earth just declared war on the Empire."
----------------------------------------------------------
Ares Vallis, Three Kilometers South of Culter City, Mars


The three comrades stood high above the gathering armies below. For Cody the sight of the gathered soldiers reminded him of the deployment of the Grand Army of the Republic on Coruscant shortly after the Battle of Geonosis. The only thing different as far as the clone marshal could determine was the armor the troopers wore.

Long gone were the long DC-15A blaster rifles resting on the shoulders of tens of thousands of identical clone troopers in their Phase I armor systems. Now the clones were just one corps in the 1st Martian Army, which was almost five times the size of an Imperial Sector Army. They would need every man he told himself if the stories were true about the numbers the Earth could field against them when they made planet fall. Those soldiers below were all dressed identically in the newest generation of body gloves and kinetic resistant Stormtrooper armor, while holding newer BlasTech E-11bs at the ready across their chests.

Along side of him atop the KSE Mobile Observation Repulser Post were his vod Neyo and his Mand'alor Bacara, both of whom were leaning against the wall of the command module watching the massive squares of trooper formations maneuver beneath them. Seven Acclamator–class Star Destroyers sat on the plains south of the city loading the army into their hulls, as another five of the troopships rested high in the sky waiting for their turn to land and load their troops. It was a process that was supposed to last two Martian days. Every one of the troopers below knew the war was on after the Earthling's audacious kidnapping of the twelve year old daughter of the Fleet Admiral. The HoloNew's broadcast in Culter City covered the event around the clock, until the civilian population was screaming for Terran blood. If the attack on the Insertion last year didn't incite them enough, the kidnapping of the young ambassador should have every being on Mars working for the destruction of earth. Small HoloCam droids flew over the military formations recording the army's departure for the conflict the HoloNews had dubbed the 1st Empire-Earth War, evidently the media was expecting more wars between the two.
Bacara was dressed in the new style of armor as well, but had added his own alterations as allowed by the Fleet Admiral's blessing about the new uniforms. Not only was it mandatory now for all officers and support troops to don the armor in combat zones, but the use of camouflage and other additions had also been approved. Bacara wore an AT-AT pilot's helmet instead of the normal trooper's helmet, along with a purple pauldron and kama of his old Clone War unit, the Galactic Marines.

Cody followed his lead by adding his own unit markings to his own new armor and a yellow kama and pauldron of his own Clone Wars unit. He'd even brought along a JT-15 Hush-About Jetpack for his new armor. CC-2224 was ready for war. More so than his di'kut vod Neyo, all he had done was slap some red imperial symbols onto his new armor. The man had no sense of style Cody told himself.

Speaking of style one of the officers on the ground was signaling for their post to come closer. Neyo was at the controls and took the repulser craft towards the trooper. "Permission to come aboard, Sir." Bly yelled up at the Clone Admiral.
"Permission granted Marshal Bly. Copaani gaan?" Bacara extended a hand down to the clone trooper to help him up; Cody tried not to laugh whenever the Admiral tried out his hashed attempts at mando'a. Bly was dressed in his own unique style once again. He was in the new clone armor and had his two krayt pearl handled sidearms and the lightsaber he had taken from the Jedi General Aayla Secura tucked into his belt. He too wore the yellow markings of his old uniform, but had two large wings jutting out at seventy degrees from a dualnode hyperwave comset on his back. They gave him the appearance of an armored bug-man. Slung over his shoulder was an old DC-17m blaster with a NightMight 8NS scope, and a long sonic silencer attached to its muzzle.

"Su'cay gar Cody." Bly greeted him as he took off his bucket and shook out his hair. Cody noted that Bly had also applied streaks of yellow war paint to his face as well.

"Yes, I'm still around. Where are you going with that rig you're hauling around." He inquired of his friend. The mood between the four men was one of old comrades in arms. There was no saluting or rank between them, just a shortened lifespan of memories spent on hundreds of battlefronts.

"You hadn't heard? Bacara here," Bly nudged the Admiral who was swapping MPETs with Neyo, "he volunteered me for leading the Forward Observers. We leave in an hour for Earth."

"Do you know where you're going yet?" Neyo asked.

"We're being inserted outside of the eastern target city. These comsets will allow us to direct the fleet's barrage on the defenses there, so your follow-up troops can land with minimal casualties. Several other teams of storm commandos are being sent to the suburbs around the western target city. Hopefully I'll be able to rejoin you guys in a week or so, hopefully before Seco commits the Clone Corps to any action." Bly explained, as he started to chow down on his own lunch. For a moment the command group was drowned out by the roar of a flight of TIE/sa bombers approaching the nearest Acclamator. Cody reminded himself that Bly was one of the few Marshals trained to be an ARC commando as well as a commander. His friend was pure Jango as they used to say on Kamino.

The high pitched whine was replaced by the rhythmic pounding of hundreds of AT-ATs and AT-TEs marching in file between the orderly ranks of infantry. LAAT/i gunships ducked in and out of the massed troops delivering officers and messengers from one command to another. It was sheer ordered chaos.

Being a Clone Marshall was filled with years of sitting behind a desk, mixed with months of leading your boys into the carnage of brutal combat, but none of that compared to the day when you found yourself at the head of such an army. From the Kamino and later generation clones to the mongrels that filled the Stormtrooper Corps from its early inception to the newest ge'vard, if they saw combat with Cody they were his tal, his blood.

A hologram of an engineer appeared on the holoprojector. "Admiral Bacara, AT-AT 429 has fallen out of formation with a busted knee joint. An AT-AT retriever has been dispatched."

"Can the unit be repaired in route, Sergeant?" Bacara asked.

"Yes Sir."

"Good then bring it aboard the Hermit." Bacara cut the connection. It was one of thousands of minor inquiries and delays in the loading of the army.

"Where are we at Neyo?" Cody asked for an update.

"Eight line corps, two mobile corps, and one atrisian and armored corps respectively." Neyo read the tally from his datapad. "That's all we have loaded so far."

"Is that it?" Cody said with disappointment.

"Dooku's shebs! This is going to take three days at this rate! Fierfek." Bacara complained, before activating his comlink and issuing a stream of orders to commanders all across the fields of Ares Vallis and the Margaritifer Terra.

"You know it took us a week to load up the AT-APs before Felucia. Fraking things kept falling over in flight." Bly tried to lighten the mood.

"You know we have almost seven hundred AT-APs in this army." Neyo offered, always one to drag down other's spirits. "What did you eventually do?"

"Well we put them…" An interrupting beep from each of their datapads indicated an incoming message. Bly paused his story for a moment to pull out his own device from a pouch attached to his thigh plate. The three other commanders checked theirs as well.

Cody figured it was either the Fleet Admiral or Moff Seco checking on the loading operations, but was surprised when he didn't recognize the origin of the sender. Bly was just a few seconds ahead of the rest of them as they opened the mail. "Isn't this the time-release message we all received right before the 'big jump'?"

"I'd almost forgotten this was still on my datapad." Cody observed. He punched up the open command and received the shock of his life. Hundreds of documents and files were suddenly uploaded to his datapad from the encoded program. He could see most were filled with scientific data from every known cloning manufacturer and researcher from across their home galaxy, and not just the ones that were located within the realm of the Empire either. He noted there were data from the original cloners who had personally decanted Cody and the rest of the Marshals as well as actual research from the Kaminoan's Chief Clone Researcher Ko Sai. That name alone sent chills down his spine. No other name was a larger representation of the word evil to the clones than Ko Sai.

Cody's memory swept back to his childhood as the lithe Kaminoan personally disposed of an aberrant clone. The clone cadet had sleep apnea, and had been unable to sleep for several weeks. Ko Sai had entered their billets one night. She told the other clones, including Cody that she was administering a sedative, before she injected a syringe of poison into the aberrant's carotid artery. He was dead before his body hit the deck. She had Cody and A'den place the corpse on a repulser gurney, and then personally removed the body. As she left she told the young clones, in that sickly sweet voice of hers, to 'sleep well'.

Her most horrible crime, as far as the clones were concerned, was the fact that she was personally responsible for the clones advanced aging process. Each clone had been developed to age at a rate of two years for every year of life, in an effort to have a hardened battle-ready army in a period of only ten years. The problem was no one knew how to turn the process off. While many of the human denizens of the Home Galaxy could possibly live to the ripe old age of 120 standard years, the oldest of the clones could only hope to reach the age of sixty if they were lucky. Cody himself was twenty four years old, but his body was pushing fifty. Stress and battlefield conditions during the years of the Clone Wars had accelerated or decreased the aging condition differently in each clone.

It wasn't even the Kamino clones that suffered from the affliction. Cloners for the Empire had copied the cloning process in their vats on Centrax-2. The newer clones may be younger, but they had just as long to live before they went into the great unknown. For that reason Bacara had included inviting those clones to journey with them as they escaped the Empire with Tarkin's Fist.

"Nayc, this can't be." Neyo exclaimed after a hushed moment. Cody took a glance over the side of the observation post and saw two separate clone officers reading their own datapads down on the parade ground. "Did you see who sent this?"
"No who vod'ika? And why?" Bly stuttered through his own shock.

"There's a file on here that has step by step instructions on how to stop or alter the Kamino aging process. It goes on and on about giving us the chance at living normal lives and how Bacara's decision to break away from the Galactic Empire brought honor back to the Clone Corps. The author seemed to know a lot about your plans Bacara." Neyo explained.
"Who sent us this information Marshal?" Bacara obviously hadn't opened that file yet either.
"It's from Kal Skirata, the Cuy'val Dar." Bly exclaimed before Neyo revealed it.

"He was one of the trainers of the Clone Commandos before and during the war. I had heard he had disappeared right after the Battle of Utapau." Cody recalled. "I figured he was either dead or had something to do with all those clones that vanished at the end of the war."

"I heard he was involved with Mando'a politics out in the Outer Rim. It was all pretty unclear with him being on the Empire's most wanted lists." Bacara added. Kal Skirata was a legend to the clones. He was always that last resort to turn to if things went sour. The only one who ever gave a damn about the clones.

"This has got to be legit." Cody declared.

"Bacara we need to get on this. If the clone refuge is to truly come about, this will help us live complete lives." Cody was surprised with the pleading tone in Neyo's voice. The man was usually just as stoic as grim old Bacara.

"We will tat, but first we have a war to fight and win." Bacara countered. There was a long pause as the four men stared at each other and wondered how to proceed. Bacara broke the long silence first. "Bly, join your men, and good luck with your mission. Remember Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur. Cody, take over with the loading operation. Neyo, you know what must be done. I am relieving you of your command and your duties." Neyo nodded he understood.

"I know just who to talk to." He called for an aide to bring alongside his BARC speederbike. "I'll be in touch vode." He shot off through the formations formed by thousands of troopers.

"Do you think he'll come through?" Cody asked.

"I don't know. An hour ago I didn't even know this information existed or that Skirata's solution was even a possibility. Now that the chance exists for us to find a solution for our shared condition, I want to pursue every avenue available to us." Bacara said, as he turned to continue his review of the massed army on the red plain below.

Cody leaned over and whispered to Bly as he was climbing over the side of the post. "Just our luck that we find this out on
the eve of battle."

"I don't know vod'ika it remains to be seen if that luck is good or bad." Bly jumped the last few feet before scampering off towards a waiting black stealthy-looking Nu-clas assault shuttle. A minute later the craft took off with a sonic boom. The clones were marching off to war again.

[Kalanidavidg]

Flag Deck, Imperial II-class SD Quill, 800 Kilometers above the Gulf of Mexico, Earth Orbit

"Any word yet?" Yos felt his patience slipping away as he directed the question at the three Directors of his Bureau of Operations.

"Not yet, My Lord." Captain Dual answered. Yos had finally bowed to public pressure and had taken on more regal sounding titles. It was all nonsense what he was called, but it struck him where he hurt the most whenever he caught snippets of the HoloNews referring to his daughter Phasma as a princess. Would they still call her that if they knew of her mother he pondered? Thank the Emperor, he had the invasion to distract him from the anguish of his only child's kidnapping.

"Yutu," he growled. The Intelligence Director had failed in his personal promise to insure his daughter's safety, and due to his negligence she was now in the hands of primitives. "Do we have a location for her yet?"

"Not yet, Fleet Admiral, but we're working on it. We're certain she has been moved from the San Francisco area." Yutu answered. Yos knew he really shouldn't blame the officer for doing his job. He had been the one to come up with the terms that were sure to push the Earth governments into a war they couldn't win. He just hadn't seen that they would be prepared to react immediately upon their refusal and move to grab his daughter before she could return to the safety of the fleet. Now he even felt some guilt that his Bureau of Operations was flaming anti-Earth sentiment on Mars through their flooding of the HoloNews with coverage of the kidnapping.

"How do we know that, Director Yutu?" Dual asked. Yos watched as one Director took advantage of the other's misfortune.

"Transponder tracking devices embedded in four members of the Chief Ambassador's security detail show that all four were taken to a site in the NAU state of Colorado. We've researched the area and it is sufficiently distant from any major urban areas or military bases, so it shouldn't be endangered in the initial stages of the invasion." Yutu explained.

"Good. Captain Dual what is the status of your commando and storm commando teams?" Yos asked. He looked to Captain Charge who just looked happy that none of this fell under his area of responsibility.

"Most of them have been deployed already. As of ten minutes ago eighty percent of them have checked in with FleetOps with negative contact with the enemy. As for a rescue effort, we have an entire platoon of one hundred commandoes, broken down into twenty five squads, on stand-by alert aboard the Battle of Axion. That vessel is standing to, above the area as we speak."

"Good, order them in as soon as the third stage of the planetary assault is initiated. It will provide excellent cover for any covert operations we choose to launch. I want them to retrieve whatever Imperial personnel are at that site. Alive if possible, but the Ambassador is not to be harmed if she is found at that location, understood?" Yos ordered.

"Yes Sir. It shall be done!" Dual retorted. Dual was a glory hound, but at least he was his glory hound. Yos moved to the viewport and stared at the blue and green world below him, before returning his gaze to the hundreds of warships maneuvering in its orbit. Each would deliver unimaginable death and destruction to the Earthling's homeworld, before his troopers moved in and siezed what they had demanded in the first place.

Soon, he thought, he would have his daughter back. His plans didn't work without her.

His thoughts turned to her mother, and what she would have thought of Phasma. Would she have been angry that Phasma had been shaped into the perfect Imperial Princess? Would she have railed against him when he escaped from the Emperor's clutches and threw in with the Grand Moff? Everything he did was for his daughter. She would have been a pariah in the armed forces of the Empire. As a female, she may never have been accepted into the Imperial Academy, no matter who her father was. The Yos name would have withered and died within the Empire, and he did what he did for his family's sake.
Grand Moff Tarkin had dazzled him with dreams of a new society, based on what the Empire should have been, not the dark evil entity it was throughout the galaxy. Tarkin had told him of females as equals in the maw, and had promised him the right to build a new academy where Phasma not only would have been accepted, she would have excelled. He had given her the post of Chief Ambassador of DiploServe, because everyone knew it was an important stepping stone for her to reach for higher office. The potential of Mars was immense, and he had no issues with the grass root movement underway to change everything Imperial to Martian.

The Martian Academy educated his daughter, Culter City society made her a celebrity, DiploServe focused her, and his love kept her safe. At least it did. None of his grand plans and ambitions worked in the absence of Phasma. Even the invasion of Earth was a thinly disguised excuse to dominate a future rival of Mars as well to provide the raw material to build her future empire into a rival of the Galactic Empire.

Captain Nake entered the bridge and made a beeline for the Fleet Admiral. "Admiral Yos, phase one has been completed and Tarkin's Fist is currently at fifty percent of phase two."

"When can we expect the completion of the next stage, Captain?"

Dual answered for him, which was only right in his position as Director of Operations. "At our current rate of deployment, all warships should be in position over their designated targets within the next hour." One of Dual's aides approached the Captain and whispered something to him. "Admiral, I have just been notified that all Forward Observation teams assigned to the two target invasion sites are in place. They remain undetected by the indigenous population."

"Good, order them to stand by, and not to make any unauthorized transmission until phase three begins." Yos ordered. All three of his Bureau Directors as well as Captain Nake were busy dealing with dozens of aides that came on and off the bridge at a torrent's pace. Yos felt his heart pump faster as the increase in activity signaled the eve of the invasion. Only the four high-ranking officers were allowed to address him, and he had already made sure they didn't interrupt his thoughts with anything that wasn't of the utmost pertinence.

"Admiral, the Carbon has just entered orbit around the local moon Luna. She has a full load of spun tibanna for our tubolasers from Earth 5." Charge informed him. "They are asking for orders, Sir."

"Tell them to remain in orbit around the moon. Any warship that needs to replenish their gas supplies will come to her to top off their tanks. I don't even want to think of the effect of the Carbon being destroyed amongst so many warships at this time. We'd lose half the fleet." Yos made sure Charge got his point, and the Captain turned and issued the Admiral's orders to one of his aides.

Yutu moved towards him next. "Admiral, we are picking up huge masses of beings fleeing almost every major metropolis on the planet. I would guess that they know our intentions aren't friendly this time."

"Let them think whatever they want Captain. Everything before this point has been a warning, now they are going to see what those warnings were for."

"Yes Sir. They've also ceased most of their supposedly secure transmissions by airwave between their military forces. We believe all commo in the larger nations is being undertaken by fiber-optic landlines. The northern hemisphere nations have also put all of their forces on their highest level of alert status. We are seeing a massive deployment of airspeeders, even over the two target invasion cities." Yutu informed him.

"Inform all flight commands to brief the fighter pilots. I want those transports to make it there safely. With the numbers allied against us, we can't afford massive casualties in the initial landings."

Dual interrupted. "Admiral, three starfighters have left Earth orbit over the lesser continental mass. Flight signatures indicate they're the same three droid fighters that escorted your daughter's mission."

"Engage them." He ordered out of hand, although he did check the holoprojection in the middle of the bridge to insure they were well away from the Carbon to do it any harm.

"Gundark Squadron from the Babel is currently attacking Sir. They're swarming the targets now." Yos peered out of the viewport in the direction of the small skirmish in time to see a few flashes of blaster fire from the engagement.

"All enemy fighters have been dispatched, Sir. Gundark is reporting one fighter lost, and Space Retrieval is on its way to pick up the pilot now." Dual updated him.

"Is the pilot still alive?" Yos solicited. Dual leaned over and asked one of aides the question.

"Life readings show the pilot was wounded before he ejected Sir, but we're still picking up signs that he is alive." Yutu answered for Dual. It was nice the Intelligence man was trying to get back some of his own.

"Good, where are we on deployment?"

"Eighty five percent of all commands are currently on station. We will be ready shortly." Dual spit out.

"Have all commands stand-by for attack. Who are we still waiting on?" He aimed the question at Captain Dual.

"Sir, the Butcher, Trickle, and Limbo are all moving into place over the African and Australian continents. All three are from Moff Seco's squadron." Seco would be screaming up a storm at those captains from the bridge of his flagship the Wilderness. He looked at the display and saw that the Ploo Moff was situated somewhere over a city named Roma on the main continental mass. "We also have a few scattered Lancer-class, Star Galleon, and EF76 Nebulon B warships deploying to their assigned positions as well."

"Never mind the frigates. Let me know the second those last three star destroyers indicate ready status." He watched as Dual and his aides stared intently at their datapads waiting for the ready signals from the last ships.

Yos stared at the planet below, intending on not missing a moment of the opening attack. His thoughts returned to Phasma. Princess Phasma the populace had dubbed her, and it suited her well. He remembered her mother. How while he was serving in the Republic's Navy during the war he had fallen in love with her from her images on the HoloNews. She had been the most stellar of beings in his mind. He had been determined to find her after the war. Her death announcement over the HoloNews had struck him hard. He discovered she had died before giving birth and had lost the life of her child as well. Ironically it was the same death that easily could have been prevented on Earth by one of their surgeons.

She would have hated him for what he did. He survived the purges in the Imperial Navy, by being forced to betray his last friends, and had groped for safety when Tarkin had found him once again. The Grand Moff had sent him to the Subterrel weeks after her death. It was there in a Subterrelian asteroid belt that he had found the Polis Massans. Intrepid archeologists, they too sought all that had been lost, and had revealed to him that this was the place where his beloved had passed while hiding Jedi from the devious Emperor. How could he ever loyally serve Palpatine after he had been involved in her death?

The Polis Massans were something else besides hidden archealogists. Long ago they had been taught cloning techniques from the Kaminoans themselves in order to save biological samples of long dead civilizations. They had also saved several samples of his love's DNA and biological samples left from her passing. They took their cloning very seriously when he gave them the task that made him a father.

Yes, it was fitting that they called Phasma the title Princess, for at one time her genetic template of a mother had been Queen Padmé Amidala of Naboo.

Dual signaled him.

"Alert all commands. Commence bombardment."
------------------------------------------------
Grand Moff Executive Level, LQ Flagship Havelon, Equatorial Orbit of planet Despayre, Horuz System, Atrivus Sector


Wilhuff Tarkin stared out into the depths of space surrounding the Horuz System as thousands of smuggled starships slowly broke away from the armada encircling the Death Star's construction site. His old warhorse Aveo Yos was at the helm of the massive Imperial II-class Star Destroyer in the lead of the formation.

The starships were far enough away from the Havelon that the vessels appeared as tiny twinkling stars as they caught the distant light from the system's star against their hulls. It reminded him of Alsakan Diamonds resting on black velvet.
Four Imperial Sector Fleets carrying four Imperial Sector Armies and berthing millions of beings from the lowest slaves to the mightiest Moff. It was with some remorse that he was about to lose the service of so many brave beings that had sworn their allegiance to him alone. Those vessels themselves meant nothing to him, as his battle station began its last decade of construction. Soon it would make every warship in the galaxy obsolete.

He heard his door open with a whoosh. He spun around as six scarlet-robed Royal Guardsmen entered his chamber. Each of the imposing figures was armed with their deadly force pikes and stared at him from the black visors of their conical helmets. Tarkin quickly got down on one knee in front of the viewport he had been staring out of.

A moment later his master, Emperor Palpatine dressed in his imperial robes entered the chamber. The robes hid the scars that had been incurred during the first attack of the Jedi Revolt at the end of the Clone Wars. Tarkin had been at the construction yard during that heinous assault, but had been one of the first Moffs to receive the newly titled Emperor and his enforcer Lord Vader.

The Emperor walked past the kneeling Grand Moff and approached the giant viewport for himself. "Raise, Grand Moff." Palpatine commanded him in his gravelly voice. As he regained his feet he noticed that Armand Isard was being escorted into the room by another pair of Royal Guardsmen. He wouldn't have to face Palpatine alone then.
Isard came alongside of him and they both waited in silence for the Emperor to speak again. Palpatine stared for endless moments out into the void, before turning and facing the two Imperials. The smile on his face was one of the most dreadful sights Tarkin had ever witnessed. The Emperor's course voice cut the tension.

"It would have taken years before those men performed their treachery as foreseen by the Dark Side of the Force. Their very presence was a sickness inflicted upon the military of this Empire. At critical times they would have stabbed us with a thousand blades in our belly."

"I fear they would have taken their fleets and armies to the side of the pathetic rebellion where they could become a credible threat upon my person. My servant, Darth Vader, would have taken years to root out the scum that wore the uniform of the Empire, but you two have given them a banner to rally to. Millions of traitors will be expelled and destroyed at one time."

Tarkin swallowed hard as he listened to the Emperor gloat over his victory. He could see the red guardsmen all around him, and reminded himself that with but a gesture Palpatine could end his life on a whim.

"Is your Captain Daala ready?" The Emperor asked before turning back to the viewport. The so-called Tarkin's Fist made its slave-rigged hyperspace jump at just that moment and vanished from the Horuz.

"She is ready, My Lord. The particle disintegrator warhead prototype is standing by for the traitor's fleet to emerge into maw. At that point the Captain will launch her attack. If the Galaxy Gun weapon can destroy a sun, it should not have any problem eradicating a fleet. If it doesn't, the Tibthrax decay agent that has been spread liberally throughout every vessel should dissolve their entire supply of tibanna within seconds of entering hyperspace. Captain Daala can then destroy every survivor at her leisure."

"Excellent, excellent. The Imperial navy will never question another order after this. Let this be a lesson for all those that have doubts about where their true loyalty should lay."

He turned and started out of the room, with the guardsmen following close at hand, before stopping in the entrance. "It suits me that I have your loyalty as well Grand Moff, I would hate for anything to happen to you or this battle station."

Wilhuff fought off the sudden chill, as the Emperor left the chamber.

[Kalanidavidg]

Please Leave Reviews and I will post up the second story

[Kalanidavidg]

This is Book 2 of Tarkins Fist

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Earth, Sol System, Suspected Unknown Regions

The primitive native species of the backrocket world once looked upon the stars with wonder. There used to exist a golden age where the universe was filled with possibilities. Their leaders and wise men had once told them tales of how their world's peoples would one day join hands with each other and set sail across the stars. The races of the world had always known they would be welcomed by the civilizations they encountered with open arms and as equals in the spirit of cooperation. They had been lied to.

It started over two years ago with a disturbance in the outer solar system. Governments had clamped down on information being distributed by space exploration organizations, while across the globe amateur astronomers reported of strange sights around the largest of planets, Jupiter. The nations of Earth tried to reach out to the strange visitors, but their own technology fell far short of completing the task. As satellite signals wavered under the onslaught of foreign interference, TV-dishes received powerfully overwhelming alien signals that disrupted and sometimes actually blew out older televisions

The aliens moved slowly on the Earth and as they approached the fourth planet in the system, Earth's own science and technology started to be attacked and overpowered by the more advanced systems of the superior civilization. People on the street lost reception on their simple communication devices, while the satellites that kept them informed failed one after another. For the first time, blasted by signals spanning the entire EM spectrum and beyond. The more advanced HoloNet communications was so focused, that Earth was swamped by the powerful signals even though they weren't integrated into the network. Even, radio and laser-based communications systems wavered, and for the first time in the history of the modern world, Earth was exposed to it all.

Their own governments turned on them next, and the people's rights were assaulted. Freedom of the press was the first to go, followed quickly by the freedom of speech. The governments of the world controlled the information, but it was the rumors that were believed. There were stories of the capture of their sister planet Mars, and tales of war being fought on the surface of their moon. Life quickly changed for the people of Earth as antique phone systems were installed in every house, and nations enacted draft conscription programs that pulled the youth of the planet from their homes. Telescopes became illegal contraband and gun ownership became mandatory in some nations. Public transportation became commonplace as governments moved for more and more control of the world's raw resources for military use.

Stories spread of contact being made with alien leaders that broke down in absurd demands. While alien robots prowled the countryside, anti-alien propaganda filled almost every entertainment venue. Military forces tested new weapons and fielded more troops than at any other time in human history. At a time when the civilian population wondered what was being hidden from them, strange alien fighters sliced through the air defenses of the Earth and destroyed the world's most advanced weaponry, their nuclear arsenals.
Emotions of isolation and vulnerability swept the world, and the only hope had been an out-stretched hand. The aliens had sent their representative whose image was quickly splashed across the world. Elation that the aliens were human like them filled the xenophobic globe, but her demands had been too severe, and the greatest of the world's leaders had turned on her.

Now every soldier and civilian stared towards those stars again. The hope and wonder they had once felt was gone, and fear and panic took their place. Monstrous diamond shaped craft moved menacingly into position over the Earth's largest cities and powerful military bases. As all hope seemed lost, a new feeling started to grow, resolve. The people of Earth may never again reach the stars, but one thing was absolute. Earth was their planet.

Flag Bridge, Imperial II-class SD Quill, 300 Kilometers over the Northern Atlantic Ocean


"So it has come to this." Fleet Admiral Aveo Yos whispered to himself. The eastern seaboard of the lesser continental mass was quickly coming into view ahead of the Tarkin's Fist's flagship, the Imperial II-class Star Destroyer Quill. It was a beautiful visage, as the Earth's only sun slowly set behind a small mountain range in the distance and lights from the North American Union started greeting the night.

His recon pilots had told him it would have been an even more impressive sight a few months ago, before his forces had launched an ion attack against the Earth's power sources in an attempt to force capitulation from the backwater planet. It had been a useless gesture. The pathetic Terran race had only responded by a show of force that had denied them their one means of striking a deal with his fleet. And what a response the Earthlings had prepared.

The back-stabbing near-humans of Earth had lured in his only child Phasma into their nefarious clutches. They had yet to make their demands for her release known, but he wasn't allowing them to make any more moves against his Empire. A fleet of over fifty star destroyers of every class fielded since the Clone Wars encircled the planet and awaited his next command. He didn't know where they had taken Phasma, and simply refused to believe that she had been harmed in any way.

The city that Fleet Intelligence had determined to be the capital of the North American Union loomed under the turbolasers of the Quill. He had selected this target as his own, as a small act of revenge. The North American Union had stolen his heart, so he would pay them in kind by tearing out their own.

He stood by his old friend Captain Nake aside the flag bridge's map reader which projected the feed from the warship's long range reconnaissance HoloCams. They mostly watched the panic below that was caused by their appearance in the skies above the Earthling's capital. Long slow lines of landspeeders moved in procession along wide roads leading into the countryside, as if they were womp rats fleeing a sinking ship. Nake quietly commented that several airspeeders were racing away from the airspeeder base at the edge of the city.

"Order turret seven to lock onto that target." Yos ordered. "I think enough burra fish have escaped from our nets." Nake turned and ordered a nearby lieutenant to see to it. Nake pushed a lever on the console of the map reader and the HoloVid switched to an image of the fleet's positions around the blue and green world. The last of his attack vessels were taking up their positions for the opening attack. Yos watched as a squadron of TIE/in starfighters somewhere in orbit over the Russian Federation lazily escorted one of the newer TIE/WACs on its mission to continue scrambling the electronic signals of the Earth's defense forces.

The strange-looking giant TIE craft was just one of a new generation of weapons that were under development by the engineers and scientist of the fleet under the watchful eye of Moff Kuat. The irony of some of the weapons was that several of them were based on ideas they had learned from the Earthlings themselves. It seemed fitting that the Empire would use those same weapons on the Earth's near-humans. He smiled slightly when he thought of the thermobolic proton bombs that had been dropped on the deep bunkers and silos that had housed the nuclear devices and the hopes of those that were allied against him. A late night discovery by an Intelligence technician 'surfing' the Earth's internet, and the forces under Yos's command suddenly had a more powerful deep penetration bomb than anything in the arsenal of the Galactic Empire. Another gift he would someday deliver to Grand Moff Tarkin when they received the call to return.
Before his daughter's kidnapping the issue that weighed most upon his soul, was his allegiance and dedication to the Grand Moff. In reality his own Imperials were members of the Empire in name only. The crews of his fleet had been gleaned from Imperial Personnel due to a thousand different reasons, the most common one was that their loyalty leaned a little ways away from the Emperor. Officers who were more concerned with the lives of their troops over the completion of a mission, stormtroopers who had refused to open fire on civilians, Clonetroopers who had watched their brothers slaughtered by the thousands, or TIE pilots that had accepted the surrender of pirate gangs when their superiors had ordered them to wipe them out. These were just a few of the reasons his star destroyer crews served him and not Palpatine.

The fear of the Imperial Security Bureau had led thousands into his service as well. The ISB had been a stain on the honor of the Imperial Military for years now. Years ago, when he had first commanded the Subterrel Sector Fleet, the white suited agents of the ISB had prowled his own warships and on several occasions executed officers and crew that they had deemed disloyal to the Empire. Yos remembered the frustration he felt in the lack of a trial or justice for those males and females. He recalled near-human and clone comrades that had been harassed and drummed out of the service, as he had heard scuttlebutt of massacres of alien populations across the Mid and Outer Rim. Colleagues who had spoken out had simply disappeared. Nake's own sister had been a high-ranking Commander in Imperial Procurement and had been dismissed for simply being a female.
Yos remembered the feelings of uselessness and fear that swept the officer corps of the Imperial Navy, particularly his own feelings of impotence. He had a young daughter to protect, and if ISB ever found out her origin he felt he would doom her as well. When Tarkin had called for him to report to the Horuz System's Death Star construction site the Grand Moff had offered him a chance to escape all of that. He had readily jumped at the chance. Tarkin had ordered him to set in motion the creation of a new Tarkin Utopian Society based on scientific achievement inside of his pet maw cluster. Millions of disgruntled Imperial soldiers and crew had been sent with him along with a massive slave army to build that society from the ground up. All in the desire to build the most powerful warships, weapons, and technological advancements ever constructed, to someday answer a call from Tarkin to perhaps be unleashed on the Galactic Empire itself one day.

Then came the 'Big Jump' and the disaster that almost was. The loss of fuel, power, and blaster gas had left the fleet crippled for over a galactic standard year. Even worse had been the presence of a populated planet within the system they had found themselves in. While the fleet was at its most vulnerable a culture clash between the two civilization's technology had prevented communication between the two. The initial contact with the fleet had even led the Earthlings to assume they were already under attack.
Yos realized mistakes had been made on his part. Following standard Imperial protocols and operating procedures, his Tarkin's Fist had made moves to protect itself by lashing out and capturing Earth's forward bases on their sister planet of Mars, as well as their local moon. He had ordered the destruction of Earth's satellite networks, power plants, and nuclear stockpiles all in a measure to protect his command.

With the help of Moff Culter he had championed the terraforming of Mars, where after half a year enough breathable air had been created for construction of Culter City. She was a metropolis like no other in the known home galaxy. His capital city consisted of towering skyscrapers and hundreds of factories and research facilities. His slave army was soon granted their freedom and formed the civilian foundation of his society. Droid production helped with menial labor, but if his new society was to expand he needed a labor force that was cheap and utterly controlled by his government. These new slaves could only be found in one place, and no one objected when the blasters of the fleet were slowly being turned towards Earth.

Well, maybe the aboriginal Earthlings did, he told himself. The only thing he cared about the Earth scum at this moment was that some of them knew where his beloved daughter was being held. Once again he stared at the map reader HoloVid and silently hoped that one of his powerful warships wasn't currently in orbit above her prison. Across the flag bridge one of his Directors of the Bureau of Operations was busy dealing with several of his own aides. Captain Yutu had been assigned to him by Grand Moff Tarkin himself, and until recently had performed superbly. His discovery of the Earth's internet had allowed Tarkin's Fist to know the capabilities and dispositions of almost all of the third planet's defensive military forces.

It was the officer's promise to safeguard Phasma, that had brought the Intelligence Director squarely into his cross-hairs. If Yutu wasn't fully involved in the search for his daughter, Yos would have already relieved him of his post. Yos looked at an icon on the HoloVid to make sure that the Bureau's storm commando teams were still standing by, at the ready. Several of their transports had already left their starships and were heading for the upper atmosphere of Earth. They would go in under the cover of the opening bombardment.

He spent the next few moments pondering Phasma's fate. The Earth would be punished for their audacity. Already accommodations that resembled life on Kessel waited for the hapless Terrans back on the red planet. Thousands of empty factories, mines, and agricultural collectives waited for the slaves his invasion would bring. If they harmed his daughter he would order a Base Delta Zero operation and leave their world a wasteland and the last Terran would suffer a lonely death somewhere in a deep ore mine well below the Martian surface.

He thought of Phasma's unique history. True, nobody knew she wasn't his biological offspring, but was instead the clone of a Naboo Ambassador he had always admired from afar. He had employed Polis Massans in providing him with a perfect clone. Now that she was in her twelfth year there was no denying the resemblance between Phasma and her mother Padmé Naberrie Amidala. The resemblance better not extend to early deaths he told himself. Phasma still had so much to live for.

He had undertaken this journey on her behalf. He had created a society that would someday benefit from her rule. Already on the streets of Culter City she was referred to as the Martian princess. The thought stuck in his mind for a second. They truly were no longer part of the Empire, even if Tarkin found a way to reach them, there was no way that had been discovered of reaching the home galaxy again, at least not for several lifetimes, and that was only if they were lucky enough to discover it again. Since they weren't Imperials anymore then they would be Martians. One of his last acts upon the surface of Mars, before embarking with the fleet, had been to declare the founding of the 1st Martian Empire. An alien word, but it was what they had become none-the-less. They were the 1st Martian Empire, and he was their Emperor. All that remained was for him to take the throne, he just needed Phasma at his side, for his upcoming victory to be complete.

Captain Dual signaled that every warship was in place.

Yos cleared his throat to make sure he was heard, before turning to the crew of the flag
bridge. "Alert all commands. Commence bombardment."
-----------------------------------------------------------
Earth Near-Orbit

They came from almost every inhabited planet in the Galactic Empire. Hundreds of civilized systems had sent their sons and daughters to dozens of Imperial Naval Boot Camps, where these sailors were set aside for specialized training in the Naval Gunnery Service. Once they had graduated their advanced schooling they were given the black uniforms and all-encompassing blast shielded helmets of the Imperial Gunner.

Now these beings found themselves at their battle stations staring at monitors that showed the hostile alien world below. Most of them had been at their stations for hours, whether it was a power feed and modulation control, targeting and acquisition , firing control, or even tibanna level monitoring every sailor knew their job and was ready to perform their duty.

Then the order came. "Commence bombardment."

Thousands of safety measures were removed and charging throttles switched to 'vaporizing blow', the high explosive-low penetration setting of the heavy turbolasers. They would wipe cities off the face of the planet below, but still leave it ripe for conquest. Each warship dipped their bow so that every weapon could be brought to bare in the opening bombardment. Primary targets were squarely lined up in the sights of the main batteries of the fleet, though some of them wouldn't come within blocks of their aiming point, when aiming at a planet it hardly mattered.

The first to open fire was the fleet's flagship the Quill. Her eight barbette shielded heavy turbolasers erupted on the capitol of the NAU. Within seconds, spread out across the planet, seven Imperial I-class star destroyers and their identical doppelgangers the thirteen Kuati destroyers fired upon twenty of the largest cities of the earth. Each of their six twin-barreled turbolasers instantly punched holes in the ozone and evaporated cloud cover over their intended targets.

The next to fire was the fleet's Venator-class star destroyers. The Clone Wars veterans blasted away with their eight DBY-827 heavy dual turbolaser turrets on targets that surrounded the two cities that had been selected as Target East and Target West. The fourteen warships aimed to cut off all access in and out of the target zones. Spread out across the globe, Fifteen Victory II-class star destroyers pointed their turbolasers at above ground army and navy bases around the world, and opened fire a full minute after the Quill began her bombardment.

At lower orbit the fleet's twenty two Carrack light cruisers targeted the deep bunkers and submerged submarines of the Earth's defense forces. The vessels had replaced their ten heavy turbolasers with a single dual superheavy turbolaser, which had been amped up by the weapon designers under Moff Kuat especially for this duty.
Picket and anti-starfighter duty fell to the Tarkin's Fist's Class-1000, Lianna, CR90, and Pursuit frigates and corvettes, while the supply line was maintained with Mars by the fleet's twenty Star Galleons. The most strategically placed ship was the refining vessel the Carbon, placed in orbit around the Earth's moon and hauling enough tibanna to restock the fleet's bunkers twice.

The Gunners aboard the Acclamator IIs and the EF76 Nebulon B escort frigates sited their weapons on the thousands of naval vessels that tried to flee across the world's oceans. They were informed of their capabilities, but Fleet Intelligence had ordered that particular attention be given to the enemy vessels that carried airspeeders. Five Acclamators in Moff Culter's squadron held themselves in reserve for special duties, but their clone gunners remained on alert at their stations awaiting their next orders. Those orders came quickly enough from the Theater Commander Moff Seco, ordering them into action against several secondary cities below, as he committed the brunt of his forces.

Green or red hued plasma and heavy laser blasts seared through the upper atmosphere before smashing into their targets a millionth of a second later. Those thousands of gunners prepared their next volley with a precision honed by hundreds of drills and years of war with the Separatists.

Not a single Imperial Gunner in the fleet questioned how many beings were disintegrated and murdered with each firing of their weapons. Some thought of their own families and friends on Mars and how they were protecting them. Others remembered the dead on the Insertion and felt just retribution whenever they pulled their firing lanyards. Most remembered their service to the Empire and knew that any threat to their supremacy had to be eliminated. All remembered their duty to the Tarkin's Fist.

As Earth burned, the Gunners of the fleet did their duty well.


500 ft above Pacific Coast Highway, Long Beach, Upper California, NAU

Justin Mallory sat in the rear of the crew compartment of the LUH-80 helicopter as it cruised over the traffic-clogged highway below. Fresh out of Army Ranger School, Justin had been a student at the University of Michigan only a few short months ago. His entire class had been given the option of both enlisting and having a choice of assignments or being drafted and being sent straight into the infantry. When he thought about it, he really never really had a choice at all.

After a condensed version of basic training, Private Mallory had been able to secure a spot in the expanding Rangers. The way the whole Army was gearing up for war with the aliens, Justin would have had to shoot himself in the foot to get passed over by the commandos. His squad packed the hull of the next generation of the Army's Helicopter fleet. Long gone were the old UH-60 Blackhawks that had served the NAU from the time his grandfather had fought in the first Gulf War till the years when his father fought in the mountains of Afghanistan and Pakistan. His older cousins had even seen some service with them during their tours down in South America. He wondered how good these new machines would do him when they made contact with the aliens.

He shifted in his seat and moved to the side of the compartment where he swung his head around the door gunner manning one of the craft's two side M307 Grenade Machine Guns. High above the city, he could make out three diamond-shaped space ships in lower orbit overhead. Every few seconds there would be a flash from one of the aliens and a new explosion would erupt from somewhere in the mountains or suburbs surrounding the metropolis. As he looked around to the east he saw a wall of smoke and flames that cut Los Angeles off from the remainder of the NAU.

He looked back across the compartment and keyed the mike on his radio. "Hey Sarge, how come the ETs aren't plastering the city?"

"Do I look like I know why aliens do anything, Mallory? Consider yourself lucky that they're leaving us alone for right now. Imagine what one of those blasts would do to this bird." The sergeant ignored him and turned to talk to the flight crew.

"Hey, Mallory." His squad mate PFC Horton got his attention by yelling over the prop noise coming from the rotary engine above them. "Why all the questions Bro? Don't worry about anything except for the fireteam, and you'll do alright."

Mallory shouted back, "Yeah, I'm frosty. I just want to know what's going on with the big picture is all." Again he peered below at the highway beneath them as two National Guard SuperApache attack helicopters raced by their slower cousins. Both sides of the highway were fully jam packed with refugees fleeing south. The cars and trucks in the lanes were now at a standstill and civilians were moving by foot back to the north. Mallory peered southwards again and saw the reason why. Even as the sun started to descend over the Pacific it was clear that everything south of their position had taken a hell of a pounding.
Just south of them was Orange County famed for its million dollar mansions and beautiful beaches. Several highways and freeways criss-crossed the unfortunate county and they had been prime targets of the alien vessels overhead. It seemed as if the Imperial Aliens or 'the Empire' as he had heard them called, didn't want anyone escaping in that direction. Even further south was the huge Marine Base at Pendleton and the home of the Pacific Fleet at San Diego. Both of those targets had been surgically wiped off of the map. His helicopter's radio had even reported that San Diego had taken a tremendous barrage of laser fire throughout most of its environs. Thick black smoke that resembled small drifting mushroom clouds rose from the areas south of Los Angeles.

Mallory slunk back into his seat as the helicopter continued its journey northwest towards Long Beach Harbor. He tried to get comfortable in his Level VI Dragon Skin Body Armor and Land Warrior III system. He still had a few minutes before his squad arrived at the LZ and watched the thirty or so other helicopters in their formation hurry along with them. His view out the open door of the compartment gave him a perfect view of the alien starships as they bombarded the remains of Riverside County to his east. He wished he had a better view of what was happening to their North, but that view was blocked by his sergeant and the co-pilot.

"Hey, check it out." Specialist Washington was pointing out of the door on the other side of the craft. Mallory turned his face into the salty breeze coming from the west as he covered his eyes to protect them from the setting sun. Out to sea several columns of smoke steadily climbed into the atmosphere as several off-shore oil rigs blazed away. Closer to shore he saw what his squad mate had been pointing at. A large AEGIS Guided Missile Cruiser had been neatly sliced in two. Its aft section had capsized while the bow of the vessel pointed straight up and towards its out-of-range attackers. Mallory could see several smaller civilian boats heading for the stricken crew in the water as a pair of orange and white Coast Guard helicopters circled over the capsized wreck.

"Bad time to be in the Navy." His Sergeant observed over their radio. The helicopters kept moving north ignoring the looming disasters that surrounded the City of Angels.

Mallory felt his transport start to incline forward as the air cavalry formation started its descent. Below them the houses and streets of Long Beach gave way to the docks and harbor of the Port of Los Angeles. Off in the distance the young private spotted the ancient Queen Mary sitting alone in her berth. He wondered why the aliens hadn't targeted the floating museum, it was much larger than the Navy warship he had witnessed going through its death throes a moment ago.

He checked his weapons to make sure they were secure and at the ready. Strapped to his right leg in place of a side arm was a TDI Vector submachine gun, firing .45 ACP ammo, it could rattle off 800 to 1500 rounds a minute with little or no recoil. His ruck sack and pockets carried another twenty 30 round detachable box magazines for his secondary weapon. Lying across his lap he carried his baby, a modified M6A3-SRT Assault Rifle, capable of firing 700 to 900 5.56x45mm NATO rounds on the enemy per minute. It had become the standard battle rifle of the NAU Armed Forces during the South American War ten years ago.

In his ruck he not only carried ammo for his weapons but also hauled a large MetalStorm anti-vehicle mine, two acoustic mines, enough food and water for a week, a change of uniform, batteries for his land warrior system (luckily they dumped all the weight from their GPS gear after the aliens took out the satellites), fourteen frag grenades, two flash-bangs, his sleeping gear, binos and night vision, and to top it all off twenty extra rounds for the squad's SMAW.

When the helo's skids hit the deck the whole squad piled out along with a hundred other soldiers pouring out of their own transports. Every one of them loaded down with over a hundred pounds of gear, body armor, and ammo. A few officers and a lot of sergeants yelled at the men to seek cover in the warehouses that lined the dock that most of the helicopters were still unloading from. Mallory soon found himself resting in the shade of one of the building's open hanger bay doors with the other three members of his team watching the unloading process. Their sergeant had gone off to find out where the platoon leader wanted them to deploy to.

It made no sense to Mallory. Who knew if the aliens were even going to invade? Like most people of Earth he had watched on the news the arrival of the alien ambassador and had been amused when he had discovered that it had been a human-looking young adolescent girl. If their soldiers were anywhere near the same size as their ambassador, the NAU wasn't going to have any trouble on the ground. The real battles would be fought high above, he figured. They simply couldn't just blast us into oblivion. Could they?

Recently everywhere you went in the NAU you saw propaganda that read 'Survive and Fight' or 'Dig in deep', which really led to a 'endure' mentality amongst the people of the NAU. Mallory just believed this was his planet and hell if he was going to let aliens come and take it away from him. Still if anyone asked him, it had been a stupid move to capture the girl as she was leaving, but nobody ever asked him.

Within a few minutes, large diesel burning two and half ton trucks pulled up to the warehouse. Several companies of soldiers hustled up to the trucks and piled in before their drivers took off again to disperse the troops to defensive positions around the city. Mallory knew he would be joining them soon enough, as well.

"Well it's official." Sergeant Cortez rejoined the squad. He had been busy getting briefed by the Captain out on the dock. Mallory looked that way just as a large CH-47p Chinook off-loaded a 155mm M198 howitzer. Within seconds a deuce and a half truck was attached to the gun and it was being hauled off to a position in the Hollywood hills.

"What's up, Sarge?" PFC Horton asked.

Cortez swung his old M82A3 over his shoulders and hung his hands over both ends. He took a minute to figure out what to say to his men. Mallory just watched as more helicopters, making their way into the city, turned into their approach towards the dock. It was a loud confusing operation for the new soldier. His only real concern was that he stuck close to the other rangers in his squad for now. "It looks like we can expect alien ground forces looking to take LA."

"How can you be sure, it's not like they can't drop anywhere or everywhere with those space ships of theirs." Washington threw in.

"Because they haven't kicked the crap out of us yet. LA's barely been touched, but it has been oddly cut off and isolated. Every road leading in and out of the greater LA area has been smashed by those diamond ships of theirs. That's not the worst of it. They could easily wipe out this city if they wanted to." Cortez explained.

"Wipe out a city, Sarge. All their firepower has been directed at vital targets." Horton suggested, "They probably just want to scare us into surrendering their ambassador or giving into their demands."

"You think so? Well, tell that to the few survivors in Washington D.C., they were the first city smashed by the aliens. How about the people of Houston, Orlando, Atlanta, Ottawa, or Montreal, no wait they're all gone too, same with your hometown of Chicago." Horton suddenly lost all color in his face. "Now LA should have been taken out as well, but high command has noticed that the aliens have been trying to isolate us. Most of this heavy equipment you see being flown in is from the army units that spread out into the desert over the past few weeks. 1st Cavalry Division is waiting for the barrage to let up, and then they're going to try to make a run at getting their armor units back into the city. From what I just heard everything on the west coast has been smashed pretty hard. Vancouver, Portland, San Francisco, San Diego, Mexico City, Phoenix, Las Vegas, Salt Lake City, and Seattle were all first strike targets. The higher ups say that the alien space ships above those cities fired for about a half hour before moving on to secondary targets."

"Secondary targets?" Mallory asked quietly. He was still the new guy in the squad and wasn't sure of his place in it yet.

"Military bases, smaller cities, factories, and power plants mostly, the only thing not getting hit is LA, which is why the Generals think they could be planning on landing here. Though God only knows why they wouldn't want to soften us up first?" Cortez pondered.

Mallory turned back to the harbor where more and more helicopters made their way through the bombardment to bring in more troops. On the far side of the bay a small troopship from somewhere up north brought in more soldiers and sailors to defend the huge Californian city. "Sarge." Mallory got his NCO's attention.

"Yeah."

"Maybe they want as many of us here as they can catch?"
--------------------------------------------------------------
Earth, Sol System

Particle beam energy and pure laser shot rained down on the hapless surface of the Earth. In several instances pure plasma or kinetic energy shot was added to the bombardment as well. In the end it didn't matter what type of bolt or round was fired at you, if you found yourself under the heavy guns of the alien fleet, you died.

Everywhere across the surface of the world; man and woman, young and old, soldier and civilian, rich and poor fell to the onslaught of the armada. Some prayed or begged, many ran, while others stood and waited for their chance to strike back. Some futile projectiles were heaved into space after their tormentors, but all were easily brushed aside by the defensive alien fighters that circled everyone of the motherships that fired their salvos and broadsides at the Earth.

The warships themselves fought against their own targeting issues. The vessels at high altitudes moved about at 3.07 km/s while those in lower orbits were capable of moving at 8 km/s while the Earth moved against them. This would cause Turbolaser batteries to miss their targets by several blocks in some cases, but when you were trying to level a city it hardly mattered. The bolts would smash into the ground and still have enough explosive energy to kill or maim everything around them for hundreds of meters.

Special storm commando teams stealthily sneaked in and out of targeted cities directing the turrets onto more precise targets. In the opening bombardment thousands of years of human history was lost to the ages. The iron of the Eiffel Tower melted as the first blasts erupted around the French capital. London, Chicago, and Rome all burned again, while the Kremlin of Moscow and the Acropolis of Athens were smashed. The Forbidden Palace of Beijing and the famous Opera House of Sydney were shattered. India lost its great Taj Mahal, while Berlin and Tokyo suffered more than they had in the last World War.

The pyramids were expected to last another ten thousand years, but survived only the first salvo before another blast turned them to dust. The captain of a star destroyer had suspected they were housing some kind of military force. The Panama and Suez Canals were rendered useless again, as their locks were turned into molten slag and their waters vaporized, and mankind suddenly found itself having to go around the continents again while at sea. Naval bases and Army forts were leveled, though Air Force bases were mainly left alone, as if the aliens didn't understand the importance of runways.

Cities suffered the brunt of the assault. Millions perished screaming out in pain before being consumed by the heat of the blasts. City after city burned, the only two major ones that were spared sat on opposite sides of the ocean waiting for the aliens to come and try to take them out as well.

Command Bridge, Imperial-class SD Insertion, Northern Hemisphere, Earth


It was bound to happen sooner or later, but did it have to happen to his ship-of-the-line. Eritech stood over the Engineering Station of the crew pit monitoring the progress of his damage control parties.

"Status report. Deck Officer." In his guise as Captain Volt he turned to the hapless man below him who had been conversing with crewmen via his comlink until the new Captain interrupted him for a report.

"Turret 3 is still down with a jammed Tibanna Hoist, without it there isn't any blaster gas getting to its turbolasers. Engineering's got a team down there right now working on it. They're reporting they can have it up and running again in twenty minutes. Turret 1 is reporting a strange vibration from underneath the pan floor over their roller path whenever they traverse. They're requesting permission to cease fire until engineering can get someone to take a look at it." The harried deck officer reported.

"Request denied. Inform Gunnery Commander Eiryn that Turret 1 can cut the rate of fire in its battery by fifty percent, but she must continue the bombardment. I'm already down two out of six turbolaser batteries. Speaking of which, is there anymore word on Turret 4's condition." Eritech asked. He wondered if the catastrophe there had been his fault. After last year's attack on the Insertion by the sneaky Earthlings, the warship had never test-fired its main batteries after they had been cleared from months of repairs in the drydock orbiting their base at Mars. They had tested out her engines on a short shake-down cruise to the outer system and back, before they had been ordered into place around the hostile planet Earth to join in with the combined fleet's orbital bombardment.

"Twenty three wounded, thirty nine dead, Sir. All of them were part of Turret 4's compliment. Engineering and damage control have sealed off any further breaches of atmosphere, but they're reporting that the Insertion is going to have to return to drydock again if we want to replace that emplacement." The Deck Officer completed his report.
When the order had come to commence the bombardment of Earth, the Insertion had been standing to, high above its principal target. That target had been a large city on a protruding peninsula from the main continental mass, which went by the name of Seoul, according to Fleet Intelligence. It had been the capital of a country that went by the Korean Union, which had been deemed a strong ally of both the People's Republic of China and the North American Union.

Eritech had opened up with all of his batteries on the Asian metropolis, when six minutes into his bombardment, the Insertion had been rocked by an explosion of her own. Turret 4 in the mid-sponson on the port side of the hull had blown herself into two large halves. Eritech told himself, that he would never forget the sight of one of Turret 4's heavy turbolasers flying past the command bridge's viewports. Engineering suspected a malfunction happening somewhere in the turret's projectile handling floor. Since the turret had been secured for combat operations, the warship had easily confined the damage and loss of atmosphere to that section of the Gunnery Deck.

More important than the loss of a weapon and a highly trained gun crew, was the infliction of further embarrassment upon him and to a smaller degree his vessel. Within moments of the explosion, the fire pouring from his warship began to quickly slacken, and inquiries poured from the command ships of the fleet. Eritech had insisted that the Insertion was still space-worthy, and would continue through her list of targets, but it was rapidly becoming obvious to everyone in the fleet that his ship was falling behind.

When the Quill had contacted him several hours later with an updated target package, Eritech had quickly recognized that several prized targets had been taken away from his gunners and redistributed throughout the fleet.

Eritech bit his lip, and tried to swallow his pride. Not an easy task for the undercover ISB agent. He had poured the firepower of his heavy turbolasers into his secondary targets at Pyongyang, Vladivostok, Harbin, and Mukden, but with each target the Insertion's timetables for the attack fell further and further behind the rest of Tarkin's Fist. He was sure tongues were wagging about his poor performance amongst the senior captains of the fleet. It was no secret, at least to Eritech, that his commission had been widely unpopular.

As an ISB Major, Tolos Eritech hated the irony that the officers in the Imperial Navy would be watching and judging his performance. He silently wished they were back in the space controlled by the 1st Galactic Empire once again. He had told himself he would go from ship to ship in the Tarkin's Fist with his SE-14r light repeating blaster and put a plasma noodle in the back of the head of each of the traitors.

"Target Beijing is coming into range, Captain." The Deck Officer tore him from his murderous thoughts about his fellow Captains. Eritech looked out of the viewport towards the landmass below. The front of his bow was already dipping to give each of his batteries a clear shot, which also allowed for him to have a clear view of the burning Chinese capital. Target Beijing had been the primary target of the Demolisher-class star destroyer Implosion from Moff Culter's Anoat Squadron. The smaller class vessel had done an extremely effective amount of damage to the city, but due to the fact that she was the capital of one of Tarkin's Fist's most stubborn opponents, she had been deemed worthy of a second bombardment. Eritech saw it as having to clean up after his sister vessel's scraps.

Beijing burned in several locations, and even from their altitude Eritech could tell there were many buildings still standing amongst the rubble. Sensors and long range HoloCams could still detect a lot of movement below, and if the Chinese were indeed still moving troops through the city, then perhaps they did deserve a second helping of the fleet's turbolasers. To the southeast Eritech noted three stationary star destroyers.

"Operations, who are our neighbors to the southeast?" Eritech aimed the inquiry back at the crew pit. The Deck Officer conferred with one of the technicians below before answering.

"Sir, that's the Drive, Fiend, and Imp. All three of them are Victory IIs from Moff Seco's Ploo Squadron. They're charged with boxing in Target West. At the moment FleetOps is claiming those vessels are bombarding the coastal cities of Nantong and Suzhou."

"What are those warship's secondary targets?" Eritech wondered if he could pick up anyone else's secondary targets, in an attempt to make the Insertion look more stellar in the eyes of Fleet Command once again.

"Sir, they don't have any. Like the star destroyers over Target East, they are to maintain position and continue to seclude both Target cities from their armed forces." Eritech grimaced at the man's answer. He should have known that. He had been over the Fleet Admiral's plan of operation for the conduct of the Empire-Earth War, and had judged it with the disdain of a seasoned ISB agent. He had dismissed certain aspects of the plan as being too timid or not having enough of the proper Imperial Spirit. Eritech had judged the entire escapade as nothing more than a large-scale slave grab and bank robbery, when they should have been launching a war of conquest and domination.

"Fine, leave them be then. Have Turrets 1 and 2 fire upon the general city areas. Turrets 3, 5, and 6 are to fire at any movement, military or civilian, and other targets of opportunity." Eritech ordered the continued torture of the crippled Chinese capital city.

"Aye Aye, Sir." The Deck Officer responded.

"Tell Turret 1 not to stress their battery too much, at least not until we can get Engineering down there to take a look at that vibration of theirs." Eritech hated that he was commanding a wounded warship. Every other starship if the assault squadron of the fleet were all operating at a hundred percent capacity.

"Aye Aye…" The Deck Officer was in the process of acknowledging his commands when ear-splitting klaxons suddenly erupted throughout the starship's command bridge.

"Report!" Eritech ordered as he moved frantically about above the crew pit. The harassed Deck Officer moved from one station to another.

"Sir, it appears the deflector shields are reporting multiple strikes from some type of low-grade laser or beam-tube weaponry. They seem to be coming from just over the port bow."

"Where?" Eritech pressed his palms against the transpiristeel viewport in an attempt to locate the blaster bolts as they approached. "I don't see anything." Several green concentric circles appeared near the bow indicating laser strikes on the warship's ray shields. Eritech was confused. "Are they firing invisible bolts of some kind?" he pondered aloud.

"They're firing on a pretty basic wave-length Captain. The shields are having no problems absorbing the attack." The Deck Officer paused for a second as a new report came across his comlink. "Intelligence thinks it's some kind of anti-satellite weapon. Supposedly the Chinese developed one to engage space-borne targets like the NAU's shuttles and their moon base. Targeting has located the source of the attack, Captain."

"By the Emperor, we should just Caamas the whole planet and be done with it. Gunnery, return fire. Utilize Turrets 5 and 6." Eritech commanded. Within seconds green turbolaser blasts were flung by the heavy batteries towards the nuisance below.

Eighty kilometers northwest of the beleaguered capital a massive military and bunker complex erupted into flame and explosion. Chinese personnel unlucky enough to be caught on the surface burst into flame, while technicians manning the Chinese superweapon below ground were shaken and crushed by the massive concussions caused by the Insertion's barrage. Secondary explosions erupted and consumed the laser facility as the Chinese laser fire upon his warship came to an end.

"Gunnery reports target engaged and destroyed. CommScan is predicting ninety percent destruction of the target." There was a small round of applause from the crew pit, which ceased when Eritech glanced back at them.

"Order another salvo at the target by those two batteries. Then bring them back onto the original Target Beijing." He couldn't believe his poor luck, as he experienced more and more delays.

Eritech watched for hours as the turbolasers of his batteries reduced one Chinese, Mongolian, or Russian city after another to ruins. Eventually Turret 1 returned to full status after an engineering team had found a loose fusioncutter had been accidentally dropped into the inner servos of the Turret bearings, causing it to vibrate every time the battery traversed. If it wasn't one thing it was another, he told himself.

"Sir, we are receiving a Priority One signal from the Theater Commander aboard the Wilderness." Eritech raised an eyebrow at the announcement. Why would Moff Seco's flagship by hailing him now. Moff Seco had been given command of the ground and naval forces assaulting the Earth, and was only answerable to the Fleet Admiral, but Eritech had given the fleet regular updates on his ship's status and repairs. They had even made considerable headway and were making up time on their original timetable.

"I will take the call in my quarters. Transfer the signal there." Eritech tucked his arms behind his back and strolled off the bridge. A minute later he entered his own quarters located a deck below the command bridge. Before activating his Holoprojector he activated an old ISB signal scrambler to disparage any one from eavesdropping on his conversation. The bluish image of the Ploo Moff came to electric life in front of him, and both men exchanged salutes.

"Greetings and congratulations, Captain Volt. I am to commend you on your completion of your target package, despite several set-backs." Moff Seco greeted him. After seeing Moff Culter and Moff Kuat constantly on the nightly HoloNews, it was a rare sight to see a Moff dressed in the proper Imperial military uniform of his office.

"Thank you Moff Seco, or should I say Theater Commander? You are too kind. Is there something I can assist you with?" Eritech asked, filled with curiosity.

"I am just making my rounds. I am congratulating the top performing commanders in each squadron."

"I doubt the Insertion was the top performer in the Subterrelian Squadron. We fell far behind the rest of the Tarkin's Fist when we lost our number 4 Turret, due to a malfunction." Eritech explained. "From what I heard the Quill thoroughly smashed the NAU capital, while our sister warships the Flood reduced that Rio city in the Southern Union to ash within nine minutes of her opening salvo, and the Slash obliterated her targets of St. Petersburg, Helsinki, Stockholm, and Oslo in under two hours." Eritech tried to explain away his performance.

"No doubt you were suffering from a severe handicap right out of the starting gate. I find you to be the most capable commander under the Fleet Admiral. It is a shame you weren't serving aboard one of the vessels in my own Ploo squadron."

"It would have been an honor, Sir."

"How do you feel about our mission here on Earth?" Moff Seco seemed to be feeling him out. Eritech had nothing to lose. He knew how unpopular he was amongst the officers of the Subterrel Squadron, as a latecomer to the fleet, he was an outsider. When it came right down to it, Eritech felt the Fleet Admiral wouldn't leave him in command of one of his top warships once the war was over. Eritech laid out his Sabacc hand and explained what he thought of the Admiral's plan, and why he felt they should be conquering the Earth, not just enslaving a portion of them.

"I couldn't agree with you more. I think the Fleet Admiral's timidity has cost him his daughter, and may in the long run cost us the war. The Earthlings are an abundant race, and their very presence begs for conquest. Yos is an old man, if something were to happen to him, I could see to it that your place would be secured within the high command of Tarkin's Fist." Seco offered him his patronage.

"Of course, as you know I was newly arrived before the 'big jump', as such my loyalty is to the commander who gives us victory and of course the spoils of war." Eritech gave the Moff an inquiring look, and for a long moment each man studied the other. Before long it was as if an agreement had been reached between the two.

"Many of us are not like the Fleet Admiral, Captain Volt; we know how to reward loyalty. I insist that we meet in person within the week. There are many things I would like to discuss with you that I am sure you would find intriguing." Seco offered the invitation.

"That would be delightful, perhaps in a week or so. The Insertion will be quite occupied with the orbital bombardment and ground support missions for the next few days." Eritech slightly differed.

"Agreed, my own vessel is currently engaged with targets over the European Union. I will be in contact. Long Live the Emperor." Moff Seco's image performed the Imperial salute and vanished as the connection was severed on his end. Eritech stood in shock. He hadn't heard that particular farewell since he had arrived aboard the Tarkin's Fist. Had Eritech finally found a fellow officer who missed the proper order of the Empire? Had he finally found an ally and such a high ranking one as well?

What had he said about the Fleet Admiral? If something happened to him, Volt's place in the fleet would be secured by the Ploo Moff. Eritech knew of something that could possibly happen to the traitorous Fleet Admiral.

Major Eritech of the Imperial Security Bureau knelt beside his bunk and reached under it, to pull out a large gray metallic case. He set the case on top of his bunk and released the security latches. He had found the contents in the days after the big jump, when power was being slowly restored to the ship. At a time when it had been easy for him to remove any evidence of its existence in the Insertion's computer core.

Eritech stared down at the blue glowing proton bomb that he had hidden away for over a
year. Eritech knew how to make something happen.

[Kalanidavidg]

Command Bay, EF76 Nebuon B escort frigate, Rancor's Bride, Stratosphere, Eastern Pacific

"Commander, we are tracking forty-one seaborne targets." The technician at the Gunnery Targeting station informed the seasoned captain. The bridge was lit by the soft, red electronic glow of instrument panels and the distant light from the earth's local moon.

The Rancor's Bride, as well as her twin the Misnamed, had been stationed over Target Acapulco when the bombardment had began, and had been limited to observation duties as her heavier cousins, the Star Destroyers of Tarkin's Fist, had hammered the resisting Earthlings in their cities. The long frigate, with her two masts situated along her skinny central boom, had long been relegated to escort duty for most Imperial fleets. The only thing that had allowed them to join in the campaign was her single turbolaser, which was usually employed in anti-capitol starship duties. But as the local sun had descended over the lesser continental mass they had been ordered out over the oceans of the world on a seek and destroy mission against the naval forces of the rogue planet.

"What do we have, Lieutenant?" The vessel's commander asked his executive officer, who was standing over the sensor station conversing with the ensign manning the controls of the reconnaissance gear. She answered him without even turning around.

"Forty one naval vessels Sir, all of them look like classes belonging to the NAU. We're seeing everything from fleet tenders to at least one of their Ford-class Airspeeder carriers. Targeting is identifying it as their newest ship the Barack Obama out of Target San Diego."

"Very well. Time to targets?" The commander asked.

"Two minutes Sir. Gunnery is already powering up the X17 turbolaser." She answered.

"Notify the Misnamed," he said, referring to their partner. Outside the bridge viewport their partner, another EF76 that was cruising ahead of them over the coast of western Baja California, glided silently through space. " Tell her to come alongside and then we'll start to box them in.


Command Bridge, Gerald Ford-class AC, Barack Obama, 250 miles west of Ensenada, Baja California

"Admiral, we are tracking two enemy vessels in near-Earth orbit advancing on our position. ETA two minutes!" the XO shouted across the bridge from his position at the MFR/VSR Radar Monitoring Station.

Dammit, the flag officer thought. He figured, after they had foolishly been ordered to set sail, that if they had fled the naval bases at San Diego before the attack that they would be safe if they could only make it into the wide open spaces of the Pacific. It was their only chance. He had argued with the Pentagon that a space-based enemy would eventually track them down. He had even gone so far as to suggest that most of the ships of the NAU Navy should be abandoned in port while her sailors were turned into marines and given a fighting chance on land. The Joint Chiefs, however, just couldn't see themselves throwing away billion-amero warships without ever firing a shot. As a result he had been ordered to sea right after they had kidnapped that alien kid ambassador.

"Sound battle stations. I want every plane, and I mean every plane, fueled and launched ASAP people. Get on the horn with COMPAC and let him know we're about to come under attack." He hoped that those pilots could at least make it back to Mexico if he lost the Obama. He tried to peer into space for a glimpse at his attackers as they made their approach, but a blanket of low-hanging clouds obscured his view.

"Notify all ships to commence evasive actions. Tell them to split up and meet at the rendezvous point at Palmyra." He ordered. The Admiral looked down at the flight deck, which had suddenly become an organized chaos of high-tech fighters and bombers being raised from the hanger deck by the ship's three elevators. They moved into position on the warship's catapults as EMALs were raised behind them to protect against jet blast. Within seconds they rocketed away, just to quickly be replaced by the next aircraft in line.
The whole performance was like a choreographed dance. His deck crews were professionals that had served in combat conditions around the world. He hoped they'd still be in a position to continue that service a few minutes from now.

"Admiral, is there any way we can shoot back?" the XO asked.

"None that I know of, Son."

Command Bay, EF76 Nebulon B, Misnamed

"They're scattering, Commander." The executive officer stated calmly on the darkened bridge.

"Notify Rancor's Bride. We'll take the north and they can have the south. We'll meet in the middle. Keep an eye out for any ships launching airspeeders. That'll be their flagship." The Commander ordered calmly, while sipping from a cup of caf.

"First target sited. AEGIS class cruiser, Toronto, according to Targeting."

"Fire at will." the Commander ordered.

Several decks below him, at the bottom of the boom mast on the bow of his frigate, the ship's only X17 turbolaser unleashed its first shot of the engagement.

Barrack Obama

On the horizon a bolt of straight, green lightning flashed, followed by a small explosion as one of his escorts met a fiery death. By its location on the ocean the Admiral knew before Ops even reported.

"Sir, it's the Toronto. She was hit and she's not responding to commo."

"Start drastic zig-zagging, maybe we can throw off their aim a bit." The Admiral remembered how the ship designers had told the Navy the Fords could turn on a dime, maybe now was the time to see if they had been sold a bill of goods or not. "Tell the rest of the fleet to break up and make for the rendezvous or back to Mexico on their own. Let me know the second we launch the last plane."

Rancor's Bride

"Come on, I thought you beings were the best gunners in the Imperial Navy." The Commander laid into the two technicians manning the controls of the X17.
Their first target was a smallish destroyer escort according to the targeting computer. It should have been a sitting mynock, but the thing moved like a Mon Cal Eel and they had already fired five ineffectual blaster bolts into the ocean waters around her.

"Her Captain's really good, Sir. Whenever we track her, she moves hard to port or starboard and evades the shot."

"Bracket it into a box. She can't dodge forever." He wished the turbolaser would recharge faster. As it was, it was giving him one shot every thirty five seconds or so. His twin the Misnamed had already claimed a target with its first shot.

"Firing." The gunner announced. This time they were rewarded with the bright flash of an impact amidships.

"Good shot Gunner." The Commander congratulated his crewmen as the long-range HoloCams on the bridge's HoloImager caught the ship being ripped apart by internal explosions. His executive officer pointed at the image a few seconds later.

"Crew in the water, Commander." She observed.

"Ignore them. Find the next target."

Barrack Obama

Thirteen ships of the NAU were now slowly settling on the bottom of the Eastern Pacific. The Admiral tried not to think of how many lives had been wasted. He at least felt fortunate in that all of his planes had been launched and the flight deck crew was prepping the last of his seaborne helicopters for lift off.

Suddenly one of those strange green lasers sent up a plume of superheated seawater that washed over the bow, scalding the flight deck crew positioned there, and leaving the front of his ship bathed in steam.

"Hard to starboard." He screamed. The helmsman instantly obeyed his order. The entire ship pitched to the right. The angle on the flight deck pitched one of the helicopters and its crew over the side. Man-over-board alarms blared throughout the carrier. A few seconds another flash of green struck the ocean in the spot the Obama would have been if not for the evasive action.

"Fire the MetalStorm and the Sea Sparrow IIs." The Admiral commanded.

"Sir, they're still well out of range." The ship's Captain argued.

"I know. Fire them anyways." The Admiral knew it was futile, but it might just buy a few more seconds for those flight crews to get clear.
Misnamed

"Evasive action." The Commander screamed over the attack warning sirens. He was sure he had beaten the Rancor's Bride to the prize when he had fired two blasts at the enemy airspeeder carrier. He had perfectly bracketed her and was only waiting for was his turbolaser to recharge before he delivered the killing stroke.

Then the thing had gone and fired several dozen medium sized anti-airspeeder and anti-ship missiles at them. He took the ship to higher orbit as the projectiles climbed for altitude in his wake. A moment later, his SigInt technician notified him that the missiles ran out of fuel well before they reached his previous position. The projectiles were currently falling back towards the Earth and crashing harmlessly into the ocean.

"Gunnery, find us a new target. Leave that one for the Rancor's Bride."

Rancor's Bride

"She's almost on her side." His executive officer observed as they watched the airspeeder carrier pitch from one side to the next as she tried in vain to avoid the bolts coming from his vessel's turbolaser.

"We have her. Where do you want the next shot, Commander?" A gunner inquired, his words dripping with bluster and cheek.

"Don't get cocky Kid. Put her propellers out of commission. Enough of this insane ducking and weaving. I want her dead in the water. Fire."

The gunner pulled the firing lanyard.

Barrack Obama

The blast ripped through the fantail with enough force to pick up the Admiral and pitch him across the bridge. The Obama gave another lurch before she came to a complete stop. The Admiral tasted blood in his mouth as he tried to stand again. Pain shot up his leg indicating that his left ankle was probably broken. He leaned against the shattered bridge window and took stock of the situation around him.

The aft deck of his ship was a raging inferno of flame and thick oily smoke as thousands of gallons of high-grade jet fuel burned off. Dozens of prone bodies littered his flight deck as sudden, jerking shock waves told of munitions and bombs cooking off somewhere below decks.

Fire crews raced to contain the damage only to be decimated as a damaged helicopter exploded in a deadly burst of flaming shrapnel. The arriving damage control parties were cut down as if by a giant sheath. Their fire hoses flopped on the mangled deck, sliced in a hundred different places.

"Damage report." He called out. He could see the Captain's body lying prone in the back of the bridge.

"Propulsion's out." Someone yelled. He thought it was the XO.

"We're taking on water below decks." Someone else reported. Suddenly another green flash smashed straight through the flight deck. He was rocked again by the impact but maintained his footing. The last surviving helicopter erupted into a ball of flames and washed over part of the port side, crashing into the waters below. Then he noticed the spot the second shot had drilled into his deck; it rested directly over the carrier's reactor power plant. For a second he wondered how much radiation his crew was soaking up.
And then another green flash slammed into the bridge and the Admiral never wondered anything again.

Rancor's Bride

"Inform Tarkin's Fist Command that we have engaged and destroyed forty one targets with
the assistance of the Misnamed." He looked again at the battered remains of several ships that still hadn't slipped under the waves. The Misnamed was nearby firing on the wrecks to encouraging them to the bottom.

His crew watched as several airspeeders escaped to the east, but his frigate was in no position to challenge them. His executive officer noted hundreds of large orange flotation devices in the waters around most of the sunken vessels. As fellow sailors, he wished those few stricken survivors the best of luck as they bobbed on the surface of the large unforgiving ocean.

"Helm, take us south back along the coast. Continue scanning for new targets."

Hanger Bay, Acclamator I Troopship, Fortune Wheel, Holding Orbit, Earth

SF-4738 had been in this same situation a thousand times before in his time in the service, but it was driving the new recruits a little stir crazy. They had been called to form up by battalions in the hanger bays of the troopships almost six hours ago. SF-4738 recognized the old hurry-up and wait routine from a hundred battle drills before.

He sat on the ledge of one of the MAAT/i transports that had been assigned to his platoon, with one leg dangling over the side and his elbow resting on the other knee that he had propped up on the deck of the craft. He had his old Blastech E-11 blaster strapped to his back, while he slowly honed the edge on his vibrobayonet to pass the time. Two of his old troopers, HF-3105 and NJ-6166, sat propped against the MAAT below him. Both of them had their eyes closed and were catching as much shut-eye as they could before they got the signal to jump into combat. They had both been in the Corps long enough to know that sleep was a precious commodity in a battle. SF-4738 contemplated getting some rest in the brightly lit and noisy hanger bay as well but he knew the second he tried it somebody would need him for something.

Platoon leader Lieutenant Mahan was off at a huge map reader in the middle of the large
bay along with a dozen other junior officers of the 6th Battalion, 395th Legion, 2nd Martian Line Corps. The holoprojection the device emitted was a large blue depiction of Target East. It was his unit's objective.

The Platoon Sergeant had wandered over to the machine earlier and watched real-time bombardment results from the fleet's HoloCams. The city had remained nearly untouched, except for the stray heavy turbolaser round that had leveled a few blocks here and there. The barrage had done a great job cutting the metropolis off from its allies. The ground for almost ten kilometers around Target East had almost been turned to molten glass by the heat of the plasma bolts in the fleet's salvos. He had looked it over for a minute or two before he figured everything was going as the high command had planned it, which was all he needed to know.

It would be an urban battle, but he had figured that out beforehand. Orders had already come down the pipe that they were to take as many civilian prisoners as they could lay their hands on. You just didn't find large populations of any kind in the countryside, but who knew, maybe these Earthlings were different. Their weaponry was certainly backwards enough. Mahan had told him an hour ago that the Terrans were bringing in a lot of that weaponry by airspeeders and aquatic boats from their forces outside of the blast zone. They were building up their troop levels in Target East as well. Evidently they had figured out the Empire was on their way. Just more prisoners lining up to get captured, he figured. He just wished Fleet Command would get on with it and order them in. The more time you gave enemies to dig in the worse it would be once they hit the ground.

SF-4738 figured they could handle it though. The four MAAT/is of his platoon not only carried twenty-five troopers each, but were packed with the E-Webs and Merr-Sonn PLX-2M missile tubes. If the Earthlings dug in his boys would bury them. To emphasize the point he peered at the front of the hanger where a pair of Eta-class AT-AT landing barges rested. Each of the craft carried four of the armored behemoths as well as a compliment of AT-STs. They would pound the hell out of anything that put up a fight with the Stormtrooper Corps. Since the day he had signed the enlistment datapad the Empire had never lost a fight, and he'd be damned if they would while he could still carry a blaster.
A couple of sorry-looking troopers passed in front of his MAAT/i. Several newbies paced back and forth across the hanger trying to burn off nervous energy, but he recognized these two as members of his own platoon. No doubt they had been wandering about, embarrassing the good name of the 3rd Platoon. SF-4738 got up and strolled over to the pair of noobs. "ST-2934, LN-7549 get your shebs over here."

The two shinies hurried over to their NCO, the fear of the Emperor in their eyes. He preferred them that way, since it would benefit them to be more afraid of him than the enemy when the bolts and slugs started flying. It wouldn't stand to have half his platoon freeze up with the jeeblies once they hit dirtside; probably end up getting his own head blasted off in the process.

Both troopers came to rest in the at ease position in front of their NCO. ST-2934 had his body glove bunched up around one shoulder so that his arm plates were hanging off. SF-4738 pulled off the plates, tugged the body glove down, and then slapped the plastoid plates back onto the hapless trooper's arm.

"Thanks, Sarge." The private nervously chattered. SF-4738 physically spun him around tightening up plates and straps on the young stormtrooper's gear in an effort to reduce the trooper's battle rattle. LN-7549 had much of the same problems except for one serious exception.

SF-4738's eyes went wide. "Private, is your thermal detonator active?" his face grew red as he spun the stormtrooper around and reached for the grenade on the back of the trooper's utility belt. With a quick flip he deactivated the lethal device. The thought of the weapon coming loose while they had been in a packed MAAT/i sent shivers down SF-4738's spine. He quickly reacted and slapped the ignorant trooper across the face.
"Stang it Trooper, you need to get tactical. You could have blown up your whole squad, several squads if we were in route to the LZ." He smacked the male again on the top of his head. The commotion had drawn the attention of several other troopers in the platoon, and the stormtrooper's own Corporal came over to further berate the trooper. "7549 you need to get your head on straight. Mistakes like that when we hit the dirt are going to get you killed or worse; you could get me killed. Do you get me, Son?"

"I get you Sergeant!" He screamed, with a look of shock and panic crossing his features.

"2934 you need to look out for your buddy when we hit the dirt. You and him need to watch each other's backs or the abos down there are going to slit your throats. Do you get me?"

"We get you Sergeant!" they shouted, and SF-4738 spun around and stomped off in disgust. He could hear the Corporal chewing out the two shinies as he left. He looked down the long lines of MAAT/i and noticed several other senior NCOs nodding their approval in his direction.

Ahead of him standing in the crew hatch of his own MAAT/i was his platoon leader 1st Lieutenant Mahan. JN-6166 and HF-3105 remained sleeping against the hull of the craft beneath their commander. Mahan didn't pay them any notice.

"Problems over there, Sarge?" Mahan greeted him.

"Nothing I couldn't get straightened out, Sir. The lads are rearing to go." He responded.

"I see that." He motioned at the two sleeping troopers beneath him. SF-4738 just smiled in response. He couldn't blame the men for sneaking a rest until they were needed. All in all there were probably over a hundred troopers scattered about the hanger doing the same thing as the Vacheads in the Navy twiddled their thumbs about launching the invasion.
Mahan held a stormtrooper helmet underneath his arm and was covered head to toe in the new ballistic armor Moff Kuat had designed to stand-up to the slugthrowers the Earthlings carried. Both the platoon leader and the sergeant had camouflaged the white plastoid with stripes of gray, black, and light blue to enable them to blend in better with the urban environment they were expected to be facing once they hit the dirt. SF-4738 was relieved that the officers of the Corps had been ordered to don the armor as well as carry E-11s of their own into the upcoming battle. It would save lives and he had grown fond of the young Loot.

Their armor carried several new features besides the camouflage. Designed to especially stand up to kinetic energy shot, they also sported newer body gloves, communication and locator gear, as well as Clone War era Heads Up Displays, or HUDs, inside their helmets, which gave them a barrage of battlefield data at the flick of an eyelid. The things would have been sliced up pretty good if they ever went up against proper troopers armed with blasters but they'd shake off whatever the earthlings threw at them.

The whole Corps was different, not only were the officers different, in that they seemed to actually care about the welfare of their troopers, but there were more troopers in every unit. The Fleet Admiral had redesigned the Corps of the Martian Sector Army based on some ancient Earth Empire. Now every unit was a multiple of ten, and as a platoon sergeant he was responsible for a hundred troopers, counting Mahan and himself. To SF-4738 every unit was now an over-stuffed, over-sized version of what it had used to be under the Empire.

Not that there was much of an Empire out here, he repeated the unofficial motto of Tarkin's Fist to himself. SF-4738 had even noticed the words Martian and Mars slowly replacing the usage of the word Imperial throughout the fleet, and especially back in Culter City. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. He had joined up to serve his Empire, but after witnessing the useless deaths of thousands of Imperial Stormtroopers on a dozen pointless battlefields he found himself caring less and less about serving at Palpatine's whim and leisure.

A blaring announcement from the warship's public address system tore him from his thoughts. "All troopers man your transports! All troopers man your transports!" It repeated over and over. Lieutenant Mahan reached down and offered him a hand in climbing up into the giant MAAT/i. Behind him thousands of troopers, made up of enlisted men, ge-nodes, and a few Centax-2 clones, rushed to their transports. SF-4738 was a little relieved when he witnessed ST-2934 and LN-7549 climbing into the transport behind his.
Sentinel-class landing shuttles led the way out of the hanger as they carried the Scout trooper companies, while Lambda-class shuttles hovered above the hanger doors. Those shuttles carried the Headquarters units of the battalion.

The transport lurched as it lifted off the deck. SF-4738 approached the cockpit and was able to glimpse a bit of the MAAT's trajectory around the pilot as he maneuvered the craft past the slow moving AT-AT barges that were vacating the hanger as well. Within several minutes of travel they came across a region in the Earth's upper atmosphere that was crammed with landing craft of every kind. LAATs and MAATs circled endlessly within their own units above a beautiful blue ocean covered with patches of white clouds and black smoke far below. Lambdas, Gamma, and Sentinels stayed in their own holding patterns, while several Acclamators packed to the gills with troops and equipment waited above the landing forces. Every now and then a Nu-class assault shuttle would race through the fleet towards the planet below as they carried their cargoes of commandos to unseen targets dirtside.

SF-4738 had never seen an invasion on this scale. Truth be told, he had never heard of anyone not surrendering immediately after suffering an orbital bombardment. Maybe these Terrans were tougher than he thought. Or dumber.

His transport circled for hours and he figured it was more hurry up and wait. He stepped back into the crew compartment, where even his veteran troops were getting anxious in the cramped, red-lit hull.

"Sarge, are we going in yet?" JN-6166 asked. The veteran trooper was now wide awake after his nap in the hanger. SF-4738 hoped all of his troopers were wide-awake and alert on the eve of battle.

"By the Emperor, we damn well better be." Suddenly the craft dipped forward. The temperature started to rise as the MAAT/i hit the atmosphere. "Get tactical boys! We're going in!"
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Earth

They watched as the blinding, green-hued rays of death smashed into their bases and forts by the thousands. Ordered by their generals into the field, the soldiers, sailors, and airmen of the armed forces of dozens of nations and unions had scrambled to grab whatever equipment and supplies they could as the alien armada had taken up a position high above them.

As one, the enemy warships had opened fire on military complex and civilian city alike. Soldiers crouched down in their tanks and foxholes, some so close to the blasts their teeth rattled and their eyes and ears bled. Those who were even closer never got the chance to tell of their experience. At sea, the sailors of nations that had never negotiated with the aliens watched as the mightiest of their warships sank beneath the waves, while elsewhere sailors and marines clung to life rafts and debris of the steel monsters that used to rule the oceans. Civilians cowered in the ruins of their once majestic cities, crying out in futility as their world collapsed around them.

The countries that had dared to defy the alien Empire to its face had perhaps suffered the worst from the barrage, but you couldn't tell by looking at the rest of the beleaguered Earth. Everywhere death and destruction roamed like a murderous, man-eating predator, taking a grim toll on the populations of the blue world.

As bad as it was, it could have been far worse. The aliens seemed to have a preternatural ability to destroy valuable targets, but they had taken their time about it. Bunkers, barracks, and bases had been abandoned for the countryside, and millions of civilians had fled the cities as the alien dreadnaughts took up firing positions over them.

Now those same soldiers who had been ordered to flee huddled in fields, woods, or mountains and watched their former barracks burn. Those magnificent, other-worldly blasts erupted with super-powered plasma energy when they struck the Earth, followed by waves of heat and kinetic energy that exploded outwards with enough force to destroy everything within in its powerful grasp. Many soldiers prayed or hoped that their families had made it out of the cities; others cried or punched the sides of their armored vehicles till their hands broke and bled. Some turned their weapons on themselves and tried to end the fear another way. Each of them tested their own personal resolve in those dark hours when fire and heat lit the surrounding night like a mid-summer day.

In the barrage, buildings and equipment were blown sky high, just to land amongst those armies that watched and waited. Falling debris took lives miles from every impact, and the soldiers crouched further down in their armored vehicles and bunkers. The only equipment and supplies they would receive from now on was on their backs or the rear decks of their vehicles. High-tech fighter jets circled for hours looking for a base at which to land, with hundreds finally touching down on empty stretches of road, where they were surprisingly greeted by the fellow soldiers and airmen who helped put those planes back in the air again.

No, they may have been hurt and in hiding, but they were far from crippled. Millions of survivors glared at the enemy starships high above even as they watched their comrades bleed to death alongside unnamed fields and pastures. They knew that the aliens would have to come down to the ground if they wanted to win. Those millions of soldiers and sailors would be waiting for them when they did, and every one of them vowed the aliens would pay for what they had done.
Hawai'i Convention Center, Honolulu, Hawaii, NAU

The Sci-Fi exhibits inside the glass convention hall had lost all appeal to the trio of young MIT undergraduates sitting on the curb, the three of them were currently surrounded by an odd assortment of costumed aliens. Jason Bogan, the youngest of the three students, had decided to spend his twenty-first birthday with his two best friends at the Star Trek Sci-Fi Convention on the island paradise of Honolulu, Hawaii. Now he thought back to the events of this strange trip, and how they arrived on this curb in the first place.

It had been a great idea at first. MIT was one of the few colleges in the North American Union that hadn't shut their doors due to low enrollment caused by enlistments and the draft that had pulled in so many of their peers over the past few months. When the alien ambassador had arrived over spring break they had almost decided to try San Francisco in an attempt to catch a glimpse of her, but their childhood love of the Star Trek television show had driven them out to the Aloha State instead. It was a good decision anyways; the alien ambassador had been directed to a naval base and the only look anyone ever got of her was on the news.

Jason and his two friends, Eddie Marquand and Rick Kershner, had arrived on one of the last flights into Honolulu before the proximity of the alien fleet had grounded all commercial and international flights. Early that morning, a few spotty phone calls to their families had let everyone know that they were alright, but for the most part stranded. Jason's mother had assured him there were worst places to be stuck in. His father had told him they were leaving the city, and if he could make it back they were heading to an uncle's cabin in Wisconsin. Jason had told them he'd try to make it there but static ended the phone call before he could tell them he loved them.

It reminded him of the static he had first heard a year ago when the alien arrival had turned his state-of-the-art cellphone into an expensive paperweight. As an engineering student it frustrated him to no end to be disconnected from his friends and thrown back half a century technology-wise. On top of evrything else he had the added concern for the safety of his unreachable family.
Eddie had the same luck with his family, but Rick never got a hold of his parents in Miami. Strange, since Jason figured their land-line calls were traveling by fiber optic cables under the ocean. What was happening on the receiving end, he wondered. Were Rick's parents even still in Miami? Was Miami still there?

Despite the obvious stress and worry the three still had sight-seeing to do, besides the convention. Throughout the cool island morning they had hiked across Honolulu. On the tour of the Arizona Memorial they noticed that besides the USN Missouri Museum there wasn't a single other naval vessel in the enormous port. Rick had speculated to the other two that the Pacific Fleet was probably doing its best to avoid another Pearl Harbor and must have been hiding somewhere out in the deep blue Pacific.
Jason noticed dozens of fast fighter craft in patrol over the islands, and realized most of the military hadn't completely abandoned the islands. Rick didn't want to talk much, especially when Jason had pressed him about not being able to talk to his folks. Eddie just looked at the whole thing like the adventure of a lifetime and was more anxious than usual. Jason figured it was about getting to the convention that afternoon.

Eddie was the first to see them, three ghostly diamond-shaped craft moving west at the upper reaches of the atmosphere. The sun caught each of the starships, illuminating them like the moon in the morning sky. Jason wondered just how high they were, as they disappeared over the horizon.

"Doesn't look like they were heading for us." Eddie suggested.

"Those ones at least," Rick said, "I heard from a girl who's an Astronomy Major that there's several dozen of them near Mars. Could be another one over Asia heading our way as we speak."

"All the more reason to get to the convention before we miss it." Eddie said. Over the usual noise of the busy metropolis tsunami sirens started warbling with their pitching wail that was reminiscent of ancient air raid sirens Jason had heard on the History Channel. The three young men stared at each other in confusion.

"That's all we need is a tidal wave on top of an alien invasion." Jason said as he waved down a passing cab. Public transportation was the only means of travel ever since the government started rationing gas a few months earlier. As they got in the taxi Jason hoped the sirens were in fact for a small tsunami or storm warning and not some other impending extraterrestrial disaster.

When they arrived at the convention center it was already being emptied. They stood on that curb and watched as uniformed Trekie fanboys and costumed aliens of every sort were being ushered out of the building, as one by one the doors were locked from the inside by security personnel. The growing crowd poured out into the streets of the Hawaiian capital around them, as several large trucks full of National Guard troops slowly ground to a stop nearby. Two police officers on motorcycles yelled at the crowd to disperse and get out of the way of the convoy.

Jason stopped a teenage kid dressed as a Klingon who was brushing past the three students. "Hey, Man. What's going on?"

The Klingon teen shrugged, "Haven't you heard? There's a war on. The aliens are landing on the mainland, so the Governor has declared a state of emergency for Hawaii. The whole island is shutting down." The teen turned and pressed his way into the growing crowd.

The crowd itself was one of the strangest sights Jason had ever hoped to see. Aliens from every season of Star Trek as well as hundreds of Star Trek crew milled about in the street with native Hawaiians. Most of them were speculating as to what was going on back on the mainland. A few of the laid back natives politely moved for the traffic police, but even more of the them tried to pretend the National Guard convoy didn't exist at all.

Before the college students could voice their disappointment, a collective gasp rose from the surrounding crowd, quickly followed by screams of terror. The boys turned their heads and looked up into the afternoon sky over the Pacific.

Unlike the disc-shaped spaceships the three of them had dreamed about with excitement since they were children, the arrow-headed shape above them filled them with dread. Obviously still miles up into the atmosphere, the strange craft appeared the size of the moon in the sky when it came to a halt high above. Jason realized the size of the starship when several NAU fighter jets screamed overhead as they approached the distant spacecraft and shrunk to the size of tiny black dots as they neared the alien vessel.

"The Enterprise could take her." Eddie said.

"If it wasn't a CGI prop from a TV show." Rick replied. None of the other boys, except Jason, noticed the crowd starting to disperse in every direction as people sought out some semblance of safety. The MIT student wouldn't even know where to begin to look for shelter, so instead he just stood among hundreds of startled Hawaiians and tourists who stood with their mouths agape and waiting for the other shoe to fall.

Jason could make out panicked discussions and speculations in the crowd. All around him Jason caught snippets of hushed, fearful conversations...

"Washington's already been taken out."

"The Air Force is fighting back."

"They've already landed everywhere on the mainland."

"I thought we'd be safe way out here."

"New York's been destroyed. Same with Mexico City."

"I hear they're attacking all over the world."

Jason wondered where people were getting their information. Eddie's and Rick's heads turned this way and that as they tried to pick up every scrap of rumor and information floating amongst the mob.

Suddenly, red flashes of light lit up the shadows beneath the alien spacecraft, followed by several of the earth fighters high above moving erratically in high speed maneuvers as many of them started trailing smoke and fire or simply exploded high in the atmosphere. Screams from the crowd announced a blind panic as the remains of the mob started to break up in every direction.

Eddie started pulling both of his friends by the arm in the direction of the beachfront. "Guys, let's get the Hell out of here!"

"Run to the beach!" Rick shouted.

"Are you sure we'll be safe there?" Jason asked.

"Well there aren't any buildings on the sand for the aliens to shoot up, and if there's a fire we can get in the water." Rick explained. It made sense to the other two, and they started to run, while at the same time follow the action above with their necks craned back to watch. The surviving NAU fighters were fleeing to the south away from the monstrous craft.

Jason saw a woman dressed as a four-armed alien crash to the ground, but the surge of his friends and the frightened crowd pushed him forward. His ears picked up the pseudo-alien's screams as she was trampled by the mob. The guilt he felt at leaving her was quickly swallowed by his own panic.

"This is not happening. This is not happening." Jason chanted unconsciously out of fear as he ran.
Another flash from the intruding warship and a sudden bolt of green energy slammed into the Punchbowl Crater in the hills behind them. A sharp crack of thunder was heard over the blaring sirens as mud and boulders shot high in the sky before raining down upon the city moments later. Before they could process what had just happened, another green blast impacted in the waters off of Waikiki Beach, creating a plume of water that shot over a hundred meters in the air and could be witnessed over the rooftops of nearby buildings.

"Phasers?" Eddie questioned in astonishment. "They're using phasers on us."

"And they've got us bracketed. The next one is going to come down right on top of us." Jason screamed as he started running towards the ocean as fast as his feet could take him, the other two students running hard at his side.

As if his words were prophecy six explosions shock-waved through the city simultaneously as the ship above let loose with each of its main guns. From Ewa Beach in the west to Diamond Head in the east, massive impacts rocked the stricken city. Concrete, wood, and glass became projectiles as blocks of buildings and homes were blown apart, their occupants flashed burned alive. Only a moment later another barrage let loose from their tormentor above.

The boys found themselves running alongside members of the National Guard, which were fleeing their stalled vehicles and moving towards the beaches as well. Jason heard the sound of shattering glass and turned his head in time to see the collapse of the convention center as an alien blast impacted somewhere behind the building. The shattered glass shredded the security personnel and costumed aliens that had remained in front of the edifice.

A block somewhere ahead of them exploded as they ran and National Guard troops and Hawaiians fell as shrapnel and debris fell among them. Jason felt a tug on his shorts and looked down in surprise to see that the right pocket had been torn off by a piece of flying rubble. An inch to the left and it would have been his leg that was torn off he realized with shock.

Sirens sounded ahead announcing that emergency personnel were fighting the fires blazing across the city, but as the three boys rounded a corner they were greeted by a new horror. The front end of a cherry red firetruck was parked along the side of the street, its rear end atomized, the blackened corpses that littered the ground all that remained of its crew. Jason averted his eyes as Eddie lost an internal battle with his stomach and vomited its contents onto the street's melted asphalt.

They moved as ghosts as the sound of explosions filled their ears and the dust of hundreds of newly created ruins crumbled around them. Only a few more blocks to go. Jason was thankful the noise and chaos of the bombardment covered the thousands of screams of those dying within the rubble.
Suddenly the shattered concrete turned to warm white sand as they picked their way through the rubble pile of the collapsed Halekulani Hotel and made their way onto the shoreline. Already hundreds of refugees clogged the water ahead of them and small boats and surfboards darted here and there rescuing swimmers from deeper water. Through the smoke Jason could see the tide was quickly turning to gray as ash and other debris dissolved in the long rolling surf. The boys wasted no time in wading out into chest deep water. No one paid any attention to them as the survivors of the attack stared back at the former island paradise. So few were able to process anything.

Jason stared in awe at the fires burning across the city and up the vegetation along Diamond Head. He
wondered why the attack hadn't touched off an eruption. He couldn't grasp just how many had died during the bombardment. The earlier thoughts of his family gone, he now wondered what would happen to him and his friends. Jason couldn't remember another time in his life when he was this scared.
He studied a massive plume of smoke rising from the west, marking the destruction of the sprawling naval fuel storage facilities at Pearl Harbor. This was by far the greatest fire on the island. More smoke columns marked the graves of Honolulu's international airport and port facilities, even as more green flashes continued to impact the island city.

"Nineteen minutes." Rick yelled out, checking his commemorative Star Trek watch.

"What." Jason asked dumbfounded.

"They destroyed Honolulu in nineteen minutes, I checked it just before the first 'phaser' shot." Rick responded, slapping the water in frustration.

"Look it's moving away." Eddie pointed at the blade-shaped vessel. Jason watched it closely for several moments before he could see that it really did seem as if it were getting smaller as it traveled on a south-west course. No new 'phaser' bolts, or whatever the projectiles were called, were falling upon Honolulu or its environs anymore.

"I think we're safe guys." Rick said, as he treaded water on top of an oncoming wave.

Jason looked at the raging funeral pyre that had once been Hawaii's capital in front of them. "Are we?"
-----------------------------------------------------
20,000 meters over Kazan, Russian Federation, Badger Flight, at the edge of space

The Senior Lieutenant had been climbing his MiG 31 Foxhound into the sky for over forty minutes. Now at over fifty miles above the Earth, the sky went from blue to night black as his instruments indicated that his D30-F6 turbofans were starting to starve for oxygen. He felt a sense of pride that his older fighter was one of the few jets on Earth that could achieve such altitude.

He watched as his flight leader leveled off before he released his HOTOS control stick and followed his leader around the curve of the planet below. Both planes led a formation of twenty-two aging fighters at a speed of mach 3, a speed wholly insufficient for space combat velocities, he feared, but it was all his fighter could put out.

His Weapon Service Operator indicated over the comm that what spotty radar coverage they had was picking up a large target on their eleven o'clock high. The Senior Lieutenant turned his fighter in the direction indicated by his WSO. The Flight Leader had already banked his plane in the same direction and now the entire flight followed their lead. Radar coverage was so unpredictable, due to the amount of electronic warfare jamming the aliens put out, that he was relieved when he instantly saw the target package moving astern of their attack.

The massive, diamond-shaped spaceship was painted gray with red markings along its sides and top decks. A large, bulky superstructure marked what Air Force Intelligence believed was its command and control section, and their aiming point. As he shortened the distance between himself and the target he noted with surprise that the upper-decks of the alien craft were sliding open. The sun caught flashes of light as smaller, X-shaped craft rose from a type of an unseen hanger inside the middle of the alien warship.

25,000 meters over Kazan, Clone Flight Squad Seven, Acclamator II-class SD Fool

Oddball waited until his entire flight of ten ARC-170s cleared the lip of the hanger bay before pushing his controls forward and leading his flight towards the earth fighters closing with his starship. The HUD in his helmet indicated the Fool was reengaging her deflector shields in preparation for the anticipated attack. The HUD also fed him information on the type of atmospheric airspeeders the Earthlings were using and what kind of weapon systems they likely employed, mostly air-to air missiles if Oddball believed the indicator icons in his HUD. Cody grinned like a hungry acklay when he noticed the limited capabilities of the primitive projectiles. This would be a blue-milk run, he told himself.

His eyelid flickered on one of the indicator symbols in his HUD and he was instantly addressing his entire flight as well as his co-pilot and the gunner in his own fighter. "Missile defense vode, we're not going to reach them before they get that first shot off; after that we'll be on top of them and they should be easy game. Remember, stick with your wingman and call out your targets. Oddball, out." His eyelids flicked at the symbol again and his commo switched to crew only. The lifesign readings of the two clones he had been flying with since the Battle of Coruscant perked up. "Alright boys, time for our first kill of the day."

He clicked his forward mounted medium laser cannons to hot and pushed the starship into an attack speed of 38,000 kilometers an hour. The Earth's airspeeders suddenly grew large in his aiming reticule.

Badger Flight

The enemy fighters were closing fast at speeds his own plane could only dream of. He wondered what kind of weapons they carried, and more importantly what those alien guns were going to do to his own fighter. His mind came back to the mission at hand as the WSO's voice in his ear indicated weapon's safeties were off, just a heartbeat later his Flight Leader started yelling in the other ear for everyone to engage the main target.

He wasn't the first to fire, but he wasn't the last. He gripped the HOTAS and grinded his thumb into the missile trigger button, firing four AA-X-13 Arrow missiles at the enemy carrier. "Fox Four!" he screamed. His WSO echoed in the rear of the cockpit.

He had no time to watch the missiles as the enemy fighters were suddenly on top of them. He broke as hard left as he could, but his aircraft maneuvered slowly as his ailerons and flaps tried in desperation for atmosphere to grip onto. Suddenly, flashes of red light shot through his formation.

Clone Flight Squad Seven

The enemy flight leader fired off a small air-to-air missile at him from almost point blank range. Oddball dipped his craft down and the weapon shot over his craft and into the empty void of space. His co-pilot engaged the laser canon and Oddball watched as the impacts stitched up the enemy airspeeder from nose to tail. The doomed airspeeder slipped behind his ARC-170 and exploded somewhere far beneath him.

At his speed the Russian attackers should have been able to turn inside of his craft with ease but they seemed to be having difficulties with their controls at this altitude. Oddball felt no sympathy for them; they were the enemy. As he came about on the rear of the remaining attackers he caught a glimpse of an enemy airspeeder that his wingman had taken out. The tiny enemy pilot was blown out of the craft, and for a second Oddball saw that the being was wearing a flight helmet with mask and breathing tubes similar to own. He watched on his FOD radar as the man fell like a meteor towards the Earth below. A parachute never opened.

Oddball turned his attention back to the few remaining airspeeders left in the disjointed attack and picked his next target.

Badger Flight

Screams were all that filled his commo now. He wasn't sure if they belonged to his flight mates or his own. He had no idea how many g he was pulling as he put his Foxhound on its back and pulled a negative g dive for the deck below. The Earth filled his cockpit screen and it took every ounce of energy to turn his head and catch a glimpse of the enemy mothership they had attacked.
It was at that moment that all of the missiles they had fired during the engagement impacted the enemy ship. Large green circles appeared wherever an Arrow made contact. There were several small, ineffectual explosions and then nothing. The starship seemed to have a force field like in some American Sci-Fi movie. Did their fighters have them too, he wondered, though it didn't really matter now; he had no idea whether any of his flight had even survived the battle

Suddenly red flashes of laser fire raced ahead of his craft. "Yuri check six!" he screamed, but got no answer. He pulled his stick back and relieved some of the force on his body. He turned his head and saw that his WSO had passed out from the g-force they had been pulling. It was the sight of the two X-shaped fighters on his tail that would haunt the last two seconds of his life.

Clone Flight Squad Seven

Oddball watched as his co-pilot slammed rounds into the engines of the Russian airspeeder, as he fought the starfighter's controls to slow down his own craft in an attempt not to overfly his target. The airspeeder ahead of him erupted in a fireball and all three of the clones held their breath as debris peppered his ARC-170s shielding.

Oddball leveled off his starfighter as his wingman's craft came along side of them. His last kill had been the last surviving member of the Earth attack squadron, and he watched on his subspace radar for a minute as its remains impacted with the ground at three times the speed of sound. The fighter's sensors also indicated that he hadn't lost a single man in the attack.
He keyed his commo, "CFS-7 returning to base."

"Copy that CFS-7." The Fool's Flight Control responded. "Good shooting, by the way."

"Thanks Fool, any damage in the attack?" He wondered what kind of reception his pilots would get on their return.

"Nothing much. The shields held during the attack: just some scratches on the paint job is all."
Oddball smiled as he led his flight home. "Yes, that's all these Earthlings seem able to do...scratch."

[Kalanidavidg]

Kuati Research Sector, Block Besh Six, Culter City, Imperial Mars

As Brakatak's three eyes gingerly opened into slits he struggled against his mind's grogginess as he slowly became aware of his surroundings. His mouth was full of an odd, viscous fluid. His taste buds told him the bitter fluid he was encased in wasn't the sickly-sweet taste of bacta. His hands could feel that he was inside of some type of plastoid tank with a re-breather attached to his nose and mouth.

He tried to remember how he had gotten into this disconcerting situation. He remembered a sandstorm and being attacked on the street by a couple of pirate scum. His first panicked thought was that he had been abducted by slavers or the Black Sun, but then he remembered his secretive search for his own herd that had led him to investigate the cloners of Culter City. Evidently he had stuck his snout into somewhere it wasn't wanted and that had drawn the wrong kind of attention.

His eyes finally adjusted to the viscous substance surrounding him. That, coupled with the meager light coming from somewhere near his feet, allowed him to see more clearly. He pressed his face up against the plastoid and peered left and right. His prison was just one in a row of tanks that created an aisle.

As he was exploring the room with his eyes he noticed that another being was stirring inside a tank on the other side of the aisle. Brakatak couldn't be sure, but he had a suspicion that the other being had a distinct Ishi Tib feature to him. It had to be Frip, he assured himself. He looked up and down the row of containers for help and noticed that they seemed to be the only occupants.

Dull thumps reached his ears and he turned his attention back to Frip. His fishy friend was propped up against the far side of his tank and was stomping on the plastoid wall in an attempt to free himself. The big Gran tried to prop himself up in the same manner but found that his size was too great for the feat. He started lazily punching and elbowing the sides of the tank until he had tested the plastoid container enough to give the sides a good solid jab. The thick liquid slowed his pulled punches and jabs. At first nothing happened, except Frip seemed to slacken his attempts in order to see if Brakatak was having any success. Brakatak wound up and smashed his fist into it once again, followed by a blow from his other hand as hard as he could throw it. On the fifth attempt a small fracture crept along the face of the tank.

Brakatak grinned as he removed the re-breather for more freedom of movement. The liquid filled his nose threatening to choke his airways. He concentrated his strength and slammed his shoulder into the spot where the crack was forming. Instead of increasing the size of the crack his momentum tipped his container forward. Before the Gran could restore its balance it fell forward and smashed upon the duracrete floor of the facility. Plastoid and the fluid he was immersed in splashed everywhere and slopped against the bottom of Frip's pod in front of him. The big Gran stretched out his arms in newly won freedom as the chill of the darkly-lit room caused goose-bumps to rise underneath his wet clothing. Brakatak wiped off the remains of the container and stood on his feet before his friend.

Frip swam around inside his own tank in a show of joy and expectancy. Brakatak was all smiles, waving goodbye as he pretended to leave without rescuing his friend. Frip sent him a hand gesture that was usually reserved for one's enemies. Brakatak laughed to himself as he located the release valve on Frip's tank.

Just as his hand gripped the release valve for Frip's tank someone struck him in the ribs from his right: at the same time someone big and heavy hit him in the legs from the left. His body cartwheeled in the air before slamming hard into the deck. Dazed, he tried to stand, but something metallic hit him in the flank and dropped him to the floor again. He realized he had broken off the valve with his hand as he watched Frip emerge dripping wet from his tank to assault his attackers. The Ishi-Tib lurched at the two attackers. With movement too fast to track they dispatched Frip and tossed him into a heap next to Brakatak. It was a hard blow but the little Ishi-Tib was alright. A moment later two MagnaGuards careened at them out of the dark, like a couple of nightmares from the Clone Wars.

"Stop." A voice commanded from behind the droids and they instantly obeyed, just centimeters from tearing into Brakatak's unprotected face. Both MagnaGuards pulled themselves erect and ignited purple electrostaffs to keep Brakatak and Frip under guard.

"Are you alright?" Three beings came out of the darkness as overhead lights flickered on above them. Brakatak tried to recognize the species of the identical, lab coat-wearing beings.

"We could be better." Brakatak answered for himself and Frip. One of the beings reached under the Gran's arm and helped him to his feet. He gestured at the two MagnaGuards. "These Stick Tinnies work for you?"

The strange male just offered him a weak smile, "Wait here." He returned to the other two scientists, where they formed a huddle and tried to keep their voices low. It wasn't any use as Brakatak knew they were discussing what to do to Frip and himself. He kept hearing the words 'evidence' and 'dispose' rise above the rest of their murmurs, the words he overheard were concerning.

"Khommites." Frip whispered as he came to his feet next to him. The MagnaGuards never relaxed for an instant; Brakatak could feel the heat coming off of their weapons. "Cloners." Frip explained. Brakatak tried to remember what he knew of them and came up with very little. They weren't as good at cloning as Kaminoans, but they had worked for the Old Republic during the Clone War, hadn't they?
The three cloners broke up their conference and walked back to the two captives. The same one who had helped Brakatak to his feet spoke for the group. "We're not going to kill you if that's what you're afraid of," he explained. "Instead you're going to be handed back to the Imperials."

"We're free beings. The Imperials will just turn around and set us loose." Brakatak warned. "We'll tell them you've got some highly illegal MagnaGuards in your employment."

The Krommite snickered, "Why would they believe a Black Sun Vigo?" he pointed at the Gran's bare arm.

"What are you talking about..." Brakatak's voice trailed off as he noticed the tattoos that adorned the skin of Frip's and his own arms. In the scuffle and the darkness they hadn't had time to notice a large Black Sun marking that stretched from his wrist to his shoulder. They must have put it on him while he had been unconscious. He'd be lucky if the Imperials didn't shoot him on sight, let alone allow him to explain himself.

"Herd of Brakatak's you have?" Frip broke in, "They not be here, you kill them?"

"We'd never do anything so deplorable," The Khommite gasped, "We're some of the top cloning researchers in the Empire. We got kesseled in a top-level business deal that someone in the government quickly made illegal. We're just tying up loose cables."

"And my herd was one of those loose cables?"

"You never heard? Well I guess you wouldn't have with our associates abducting you on the street like they did. A large Black Sun gang, entirely made up of Gran males, was captured a month ago and sent to a penal labor camp. Since the Black Sun was mostly wiped out on the Abandoned Hope there wasn't anybody to deny it." Brakatak sighed as the impact of the words hit him. His old herd was alive, but in prison.

"We frozen month now?" Frip asked.

"Not frozen; you've been in cloning cylinders for about a month and a half now."

Brakatak looked up and down the rows of machines and vats around him. He noted that most of them seemed to be full of plant seeds and animal fetuses of some sort. "You have no idea how expensive that cylinder was that you broke. For that alone we would happily hand you over to the authorities. Now if you'll follow us." The MagnaGuards took up flanking positions on the two prisoners and nudged them forward with their electrostaffs.

The group made its way out of the cloning facility and out into a loading dock area at the rear of the industrial complex. Brakatak noticed the name Arkanian Microtechnologies on the sides of the Ferrocrete walls and stenciled of the side of the large hovertruck parked in front of them. Two of the Khommites got into the cab of the vehicle, while the rest of them piled into its open rear bed. The two MagnagGuards wrapped themselves in some type of cloak that they carried, making them indistinguishable from any other droid on the streets of Culter City. Unfortunately for the two prisoners, the enforcer droids never dropped their guard for an instant.

The hovertruck moved onto the main fairways leading out of the city. Brakatak was noticing that traffic was much lighter than he remembered, here on the ground and in the skyways above the city. There was a complete lack of Star Destroyers and other military hardware in the skies above.
He leaned forward and addressed the Khommite riding along with them. "Where did the Navy go, Cloneboy?" he pointed up into the evening sky.

The Khommite just shrugged his shoulders. "Gone to war with another planet and took the whole laser-brained Martian Army with it. They didn't even want any new clones, just like they didn't want any of our cloned agricultural workers." Brakatak was about to ask about that, but the Khommite rambled out the answer. "We had the perfect stock, too. Nobody was going to miss a herd of Gran. They'd just be one more species that missed the 'Big Jump', like Wookies or Hutts. But the government wasn't punching up that coordinate. No, they said they could get workers a lot cheaper somewhere else, or that it would take too long to clone them, or some other poodoo excuse and then declared the cloning of beings illegal. Sure they gave us a fat contract to clone earth seeds for crops and some domestic animals, but what were we supposed to do with all you Gran we had? We're not Black Sun murderers, just cloners."

"Without a lick of business sense amongst you." Brakatak observed.

"That's true; everyone in town is trying to hire managers and secretaries. If only the fleet had brought some along on the 'big jump' here." The Khommite complained "All the bigger companies are snatching up all of the ex-slaves as office workers."

"Why didn't you just hire the Gran?"

"Someone would have talked about the kidnapping. So we sliced some false prison orders for the whole herd. The guards at the prison camps mostly don't ask too many questions, or they're droids." The hovertruck left the limits of the city and cruised out into the frigid red plains of Mars. Brakatak thought it was a bit warmer than he last remembered, but not by much.

The hovertruck cruised along the edge of a bluff and Frip pointed at the enormous sprawl of a camp below them. Red pourstone shelters stretched out as far as the eye could see, only stopping when they reached a distant electrified death fence. Five civil-industrial I-C2 construction droids were busy erecting twin turbolaser turrets and guard towers around the perimeter of the camp. Brakatak thought whoever had built this camp was expecting a lot of beings to fill it, maybe even more than had come along with the so-called Tarkin's Fist. It had to be the size of several of the slave camps on Despayre put together.

Brakatak's heart leaped as he noticed familiar three-eyed beings working amongst the construction gangs as the hovertruck neared the massive gate complex of the camp. He hardly noticed the name of the place was Earth Concentration Camp 1138, spelled out in aurabesh and alternate basic above the gate.

"We speak at guards. Guards arrest you." Frip warned as the truck slowed.

"Oh, no doubt." The Khommite chuckled, "We were prepared for that as well." The scientist motioned to the MagnaGuards, and before he could blink Brakatak felt the stun of their electrostaffs in his side. As he passed into unconsciousness he felt the hovertruck come to a stop.

Target East, Lesser Continental Mass, Strangle-7 Bombardment

The seven Clone War veteran warships were spread out along their siege bombardment line high above the target package with the strange name of Los Angeles. Someone had told the crews of the huge Venator Star Destroyers that the name meant The Angels, and there was scuttlebutt that the inhabitants may have been colonists or refugees from the moons of lego. But it had been just a rumor and so the crews hadn't hesitated in opening fire on the metropolis anyways.

Malibu with its million Amero mansions burned; sports cars and limousines were tossed about like marbles from the hand of a child, their explosions adding to the carnage around them. More green bolts from the heavens slammed down in the San Fernando Valley, smashing every street, road, and alley leading into the city. One of the Venators, the Battle of Honoghr, razed the 210 freeway from Glendale to San Bernardino, and because of its efforts nothing came into the city from the foothills of the Sierras to the north. The Maul opened up with her heavy turbolaser batteries on anything that moved in Riverside County. She brought city after city to their knees before finally wiping them off the map completely. Three more of the destroyers worked their way in from the south starting at Newport Beach in Orange County. They crushed the 405 and 15 interstates even as the roads were choked full of refugees and evaporated the water in Lake Elsinore with their superheated rounds of plasma and laser energy.

Cities with names like Corona and Glendora were shattered. But others, like Anaheim, Santa Monica, Torrence, or even Chino Hills hadn't received a single plasma-bolt from the tormentors above. What were they being saved for, their inhabitants wondered as they looted and fought for as many supplies as they could secure for whatever lay ahead. Gunfire rang across these neighborhoods as control was wrested from the gangs by the army troops slowly making their way into the suburbs and digging in for the defense of this western city.

In the impact areas being wracked by turbolaser fire, hidden armored vehicles waited. Covered in the camouflage of debris and rubble, Leopard III tanks and Stryker II armored fighting vehicles made their way forward between salvos from the great ships above. They were determined to keep what was rightfully theirs, as their decks were crowded with soldiers and supplies moving to the front. Staying off cratered roads and crushing their way through the rubble of home after home they crept into the city. Shell-shocked survivors of the bombardment soon followed the soldiers in the hopes of escaping the hell of miles-wide impact zones that their cities had become.

In the skies above, helicopters darted into the city, dodging left and right as one or another would burst when alien fire found it. Dozens of burning, wreckage-filled pyres across the city were all the burial their crews would ever receive, yet still the American soldiers came. Large C-130s raced over the city and through the barrage, dropping supplies and thousands of fresh paratroopers into the build-up before racing through the bombardment again. The destruction of two of the craft was barely noticed amid the pain and suffering the city was feeling.

At the beaches the Army dug in. They watched as any large ship drew the attention from the aliens above and was quickly sent to the bottom. Yet small craft continued to make their way from ports to the south and north, bringing in more men and supplies. Thousands of anti-aircraft guns poked their muzzles out from backyards, rooftops, and parks across the city of angels. At the same time, state-of-the-art fighters patrolled over the Los Angeles basin, waiting to engage the first wave of the expected alien invasion.

Los Angeles was going to be revenge for the death the aliens had caused, and each Earth soldier was determined to make them pay in full.

Mynock Flight, 38,000 meters above Target East

Captain Timus Roblin was wondering if he made the wrong choice as he adjusted the atmospheric controls for the inside of his white TIE/In starfighter for the hundredth time on his mission. He had been flying escort duty for the invasion fleet for nine hours and was starting to smell pretty ripe inside his black flight suit. He had long ago stopped trying to count how many starships made up the invasion force. They looked as if they were a menacing cloud of Bilbringii Murder Bees whenever he took his flight to the outer perimeter of the imperial swarm.

Three weeks ago his Wing Commander aboard the Quill had given him the chance to train in the new TIE/Interceptors coming off the line from factories on Mars. Roblin had wanted to jump at the chance but the only problem, Commander Vertitas had explained, was that the training might coincide with the upcoming invasion of the Earth, which itself promised to be a target-rich environment for TIE pilots. So it was either being the lead flight in the attack and the tip of the Imperial Spear, or get to fly the hottest new fighters this galaxy had ever seen and miss out on the big show. When it came down to it, Roblin knew which opportunity he couldn't pass up.

And so he found himself leading Mynock Flight in their older fighters in lazy circles around the herds of LAATs, Lambdas, and hundreds of other landing craft that waited for the attack signals to be broadcast. Roblin checked his flight computer and subspace radar to make sure each of the ten fighters in his squadron were maintaining their pyramid-gamma formation as they patrolled a line of slow bulky Y-85 Titan dropships leading a line of their smaller cousins, the Theta-class AT-AT barges. Roblin had seen a report that some of the barges were carrying AT-AT swimmers in the first wave. He'd only been interested because he'd never seen the strange Imperial walkers in action before.

Roblin silently cursed his luck when Mynock Flight cleared a line of CR30 troop carriers and approached the Imperial-class Star Destroyer Flood, currently engaged in orbital bombardment operations. He saw another squadron flying fighter cover above the entire mass of warships, and with an envious eye noticed the sleek killer features of their snubnose fighters. Akul Flight had been chosen instead to train in the first of the Interceptors, and Roblin's only concession to his jealousy was that those Akul pukes could watch from their lofty perch as his Mynock flyboys cleaned up on Earth kills.

He smiled a predatory grin, pushed his stick forward, and took his flight to a lower orbit. His sensors instantly showed a rise in skin temperature as his fighter skimmed the top of the atmosphere.
He toggled his S-c3.8 multi-range TAG between IR and VSI mode and watched thousands of Earth airspeeders on guard below him. His mouth actually watered at the easy pickings he imagined Mynock Squadron taking from the Earthlings beneath him. Several hundred of them lumbered over Target East and right at the bottom of his planned entry vector.

The only problem he could see was slowing down enough from the reentry to dogfight the enemy airspeeders at their own pace. The fleet only had one small squadron of Imperial Escort Airspeeders off of the Venator SD Transform, and they had been assigned to Target West. He had laughed when he read Naval Intelligence's evaluations of the Earth's airspeeders that he would have to go up against. Afterburners and turbofan engines, radar-absorbing material and fixed wing airspeeders that could only hope to do mach 4 at the most would be bantha fodder for his boys. He sneered with the arrogance of being one of the top aces in the fleet when he thought of the so-called 'helicopters' the Earth fielded. The things actually had rotary blades like the crop dusting chopters back home on Corellia. If his TIEs looked at them funny they'd probably go down in flames.

"Hey Bloodstripe, any word on when we're going to kick this thing off?" his panalman commed him from his port side. "I'm as bored as a Hutt's basement rancor."

"You'll be the first one I tell Striker. I'm as antsy as you are." Roblin informed First Lieutenant August, his XO of Mynock Squadron.

"Boss, they need to get this show on the road. I just watched two heavy MAATs collide with each other after one of their pilots decided to take a nap at the stick."

"Any damage?" Roblin wondered aloud.

"Naw, they just bumped each other. Probably scared the poodoo out of the stormies aboard though." August observed. "Can you imagine what it's like aboard those LAAT/i though? They don't have the atmospherics like the newer carriers."

"Those troopers are going to be worthless when they hit the dirt, especially if Fleet Ops doesn't get this show on the road soon." As if his words were prophecy, the Fleet Channel lit up on his sub-space radio.

"Attention all commands!" An official voice cut across all channels, "All squadrons move to entry points. Bombardment will cease in ten minutes. TIE Squadrons are a go in mark nine minutes." A counter on his flight computer instantly began counting down as he whipped Mynock Squadron around and back to their assigned jump-off point. More instructions issued forth from the comm but most of those were for the vectoring of transports and Star Destroyers cruising above him.

"Weapon safeties off." He ordered his flight. His sensors told him twenty-seven squadrons of TIE/In starfighters were forming up behind his own formation. Overkill, he arrogantly thought, even though the Earth airspeeders in the target area outnumbered them by five to one. Several TIE/WACs in the fleet stepped up their electronic jamming of the enemy airspeeder's radars and communications. By the sporadic flying the earthlings started to demonstrate as he watched Roblin figured the the EA jamming was working.

At eight minutes the f3-2 flight avionics system blinked out for a second. The TIE captain quickly checked the power levels of his twin ion engines and saw that his targeting computer was registering an EW attack on his formation. TIE/WACs dived towards the planet below to counter whatever primitive jamming technology the enemy was throwing at him. Within the next two heartbeats he registered his TIE was still at 100 percent combat effectiveness and pushed his stick forward. Without checking his instruments he imagined the hundreds of craft following his attack through the upper atmosphere as the turrets from the escorting Star Destroyers ceased their bombardment.

Below Roblin lay a beautiful ocean that stretched as far as his eye could see. White caps raced east to collide with a brown and green shoreline marred with the smoke of thousands of fires. His back pressed into his crash webbing as he dropped ten thousand meters and leveled off in a 3g turn. His TIE squadron quickly out paced the transports that were following his formation.

Airspeeders the shape of Ithorian Razor Sharks raced out of the city ahead to intercept his own fighters. Their surprisingly quick atmospheric speeds seemed to be their only advantage. He could only guess at their numbers as his targeting computer was still tallying them. He switched it quickly to close combat mode so that it would only track targets marked by his own HUD.

To Roblin the primitive airspeeders were wasteful and poorly designed. He doubted most of the oncoming craft could even make it past the speed of sound without the aide of afterburners, and had no doubt they weren't capable of ever leaving the atmosphere.

"Mynock, Attack Formation Echo-5." He commanded. The nine fighters behind him slid into the attack position a heartbeat later. "Lock cannons in attack position."

"All TIE squadrons, break and engage at will." A TIE/WAC commanded from high above. The TIE formation broke into their own attack patterns as they spread across in a line racing towards the enemy airspeeders.

Roblin's targeting computer identified several types of craft coming at him, from F-35 Lightning IIs and Harrier IIIs, to older F-22 Raptors and a sprinkling of F-18 Super Hornets. The airspeeders were the first to open fire. Missiles flew from their wings in the hope that they could out distance the TIEs plasma bolts. Roblin opened fire with his twin mounted chin cannons along with dozens of other imperial fighters. Green bolts blasted outwards to intercept the incoming attack. Several of the primitive missiles exploded between the two opposing forces as the attack pressed in.

"Just a bunch of bangers. Striker, you picking up any boomers?"

"Negative, Bloodstripe. No boomers." Striker responded. Roblin's scanners showed the absence of proton torpedoes amongst the primitive concussion missiles being hurled unguided at his formation.
Roblin and Striker stuck together as they ducked a pair of AIM-120 AMRAAMs. His neck threatened whiplash as he swiveled it back and forth, searching for more incoming projectiles. The distance between the two forces ebbed away as the airspeeders opened up with their IRIS-T and AIM-9 Sidewinders. Unfortunately for the earthlings, they were also now well in the atmospheric range of the
TIE's cannons.

Roblin put his fighter into a howling bank to the left after a flight of F-35s in time to witness a TIE from Gundark Squadron take a missile straight in the cockpit viewport. The pilot probably froze at the stick when he saw the weapon bearing in, Roblin figured, as he watched the twin panels break apart. His HUD followed the enemy flight of five airspeeders and he noted Striker had the superior position for the attack.

"Striker, you got lead." Roblin grunted over the squadron channel as his TIE's inertial dampers fought the g-forces he was pulling to get his craft in attack position. Roblin was still lining up his shot when Striker's cannons blew apart three of the airspeeders. The Mynock Flight Leader had a second for a quick shot on one of the survivors before he and Striker overflew the airspeeders. His targeting computer registered a miss but before they could turn and renew the attack, two TIEs from Jocorro Squadron finished off the earthlings.

Roblin scanned for his next target.

"Bloodstripe, two bloodsuckers at ten o'clock low." Stiker piped across the commo.
Roblin banked his craft to the left and picked out the two Harrier IIIs moving in on a pair of TIEs from behind. "Oh, no you don't." Bloodstripe growled at the pair. "I got Left." he informed Striker.

"Roger, Roger."

His thumb pressed in on the firing stub and green blasts tore into the cockpit area of his target airspeeder. The gray craft went into a spin and lurched towards the ocean below. Before Roblin could switch targets Striker claimed his fourth kill by blowing the other airspeeder's wing off. The cockpit exploded and the two TIE pilots watched as the Earthling ejected from his stricken craft. A parachute emerged from the pilot's seat and he was soon drifting towards the water below. Roblin noted several smaller boats on the ocean and wished the fellow pilot luck, as he spun around to look for more kills.

"Zap and Wampa need some help." Striker announced.

Roblin looked at his flight computer for his squadron-mates' position and quickly picked them out of the hundreds of fighter craft in the sky. The two TIEs ducked and weaved through several dogfights marked by green blaster bolts and red tracer rounds, followed by the stray air-to-air missile or the contrails left by the high-speeed maneuvers of both sides. It was clear that the TIEs, though heavily outnumbered, were having their way with the defending airspeeders.

He spotted Zap and Wampa engaged with ten of the slightly better F-35s. The two TIEs, with their maneuverability and ion vectoring jets, could get out of the way whenever one of the airspeeders engaged with either missile or guns. But going at higher speeds allowed the enemy airspeeders to turn inside of whatever banking turns the pair of TIEs could pull whenever one would get on the tail of one of the earthlings. What resulted was a big furball of spinning fighters, with neither side gaining the upper hand.

Roblin thought of over-engaging his inertial dampeners, which would allow him to maneuver in any direction and dozens of Gs, but the thought of bleeding that much speed in this type of fight made him sweat in the coolness of his flight suit. Instead he decided on a much more straight-forward approach.

"Time to plow the field, Striker. You take high. I'll take low."

"Copy that Bloodstripe, going in." Striker acknowledged.

Roblin's gloved thumb grinded the firing stub as he followed his own blasts into the largest formation of enemy craft. Two of them erupted in cataclysmic explosions that blew them from the sky. A flash of fire above him told him Striker was marking down another kill as well. The two fighters passed through the dogfight and banked right in formation three kilometers away. Four enemy craft had disappeared from the fight thanks to them.

"Box them in and let's see if our boys can get some kills." The Mynock Flight Leader ordered.

"Roger, roger." August responded.

With all of the enemy airspeeders focused on the two TIEs that had just chewed them up, their attention slipped from the two junior TIE pilots who had reformed to the rear of the earthlings and began to smash their bolts into the airspeeders from behind. With their twin ion engines whining from their high speeds Zap and Wampa shredded the F-35 formation. In the space of a few seconds three more smoke plumes reached up from the ocean, marking their kills. The three remaining fighters fled in separate directions.

Roblin was surprised by the Earthling's lack of teamwork, but then remembered the amount of signal jamming that was being aimed at them from the TIE/WACs still in orbit above. He watched dozens of dogfights taking place across the sky. Outclassed airspeeders would plunge into the TIE formations in ones or twos without any coordination with other flights. In several areas airspeeders never received warnings from their wingmen that they were under attack until it was too late, simply because their primitive radios had been knocked out. It was like shooting Naboo Sirenian in a container, Roblin thought.
A sidewinder flashed past his cockpit, bringing his mind back to the battle. Something as simple as a wandering thought could get a pilot blasted down, he reminded himself. He climbed for altitude looking for his attacker. Striker followed in his wake. The weapon never had a lock on him, which is why none of his warning systems had alerted him to the danger.

He spotted the two attackers before Striker did. A F-18 Super Hornet had paired up with a surviving F-35 Lightning II and were some of the last few airspeeders attempting to block the way into Target East. Roblin flipped his TIE onto its back and dove towards the two doomed craft. He noted with pleasure that both airspeeders had already expended their missiles, so at a range their guns could only dream of matching, he ripped into the pair. His first blasts tore into one of the engines of the Lightning II, which immediately began spilling black smoke from its afterburners. His second round of cannon fire tore the Super Hornet to shreds and Roblin was rewarded with the sight of another ejecting Terran dangling from a parachute. Roblin looked around again for the crippled F-35 but his hunt came up empty.

"We'll mark that first pirate down as a probable, Sir." August chided him from the TIE on his wing.

"Good enough. At least he's out of the fight."

"Looks like their remaining airspeeders are bugging out to the north like a pack of startled nerf. Shall we pursue?" Striker asked.

"Let em' go. Form up." Roblin flipped comm channels. "Mynock on me. Tie Squadrons, this is QI2-1-1, reform assault formations. Mynock has the lead. Over." He watched as hundreds of TIEs reformed their squadrons behind him and smiled when he noted that all ten TIEs of Mynock fell in to continue the air
assault on Target East.

"Twelve." Striker stated. Evidently talking to someone else on their channel.

"Twelve what?" Roblin asked.

"Sir, you're never gonna believe it," Wampa cut across their squadron net. "We only lost twelve TIEs in that entire attack and Space Rescue is claiming nine successful pick-ups."
Roblin was impressed, though if Space Rescue brought you in and you were full of slugs, how successful a pick-up was it? He reminded himself to chew out Wampa for listening to the FleetOps channel during combat.

"The attack isn't over yet. Transports are going in now." Roblin indicated the thousands of craft that were just now passing unmolested beneath the TIEs providing fighter cover. He smiled at the completion of a successful mission. "First wave of Stormies should still have some light when they hit the beach."
At that moment the entire ocean front of Target East erupted in mushroom-shaped explosions as several TIE/sa bombers launched dozens of proton torpedoes at the enemy soldiers defending the primary invasion beaches. Effective enemy resistance to the landings dropped to nil as thousands of frontline earthling troopers and equipment were swallowed in the explosions.

His grin quickly disappeared when the sky over Target East sprouted and bloomed thousands of black explosions as the mysterious enemy flak batteries erupted to protect their city. Lines of red tracer slugs reached this way and that in vain hope to disrupt the oncoming invasion. Roblin noted hundreds of fires taking shape across the onrushing metropolis.

"Mynock come to 20,000 meters, let's stay above this kriffin junk." Roblin ordered. As they climbed he watched the transports descending towards the beaches of Target East. Several LAATs engaged smaller aquatic vessels on the ocean below. More waves of TIE/sa bombers plastered the beaches ahead of the attack.

Roblin's sensors pinged alarms as new dangers appeared. His targeting computer indicated several surface-to-air missiles being launched in his direction. TIE/WACs above were on the ball and immediately started jamming the guidance systems of the new weapons. Roblin climbed for altitude as the local sun dipped into the ocean behind him. It really was going to be a long day he told himself.

Supermax, ADX Florence, Colorado, NAU, Earth

The customized Nu-assault shuttles had been flying in blackout conditions since dropping into the atmosphere. It was an hour after the local sundown in something the local Terrans had dubbed Mountain Standard Time. The three commando craft were flying eight meters off the ground at just under the speed of sound, completely invisible to enemy sensors in the area.

The Storm Commando Major in the first craft dropped the temperature in his Katarn IV scout armor as he prepared for the adrenaline rush of going into combat. The suits were based on the notorious clone commandos of the Clone War and specially modified by the legendary Commander Crix Madine to include stygian-triprismatic polymers covered in black reflec. The officer had heard that the things could stop a SPHA-T round but he'd never had the opportunity to test that theory. He could only hope that he had heard right.

A red light blinked on in the crew compartment and the three identically clad commandos behind him rose and made one last function check of their personal DC-17m ICWS. Each man signaled his readiness as the trio of stealthy craft silently emerged from the low-lying hills above the prison facility. The complex was under blackout conditions like much of the Earth. The Major wasn't sure if that was because of security measures or due to the destruction of the nearby city of Target Denver a few hours ago by the Star Destroyer Purgatory.

The Major recieved image updates from the pilot transmitted directly to his HUD and marked the targets he wanted the Nu's gunner to engage first. They crossed the open farmland in four seconds, then the red light in the crew compartment changed to blue. His night-vision viewers protected him from the glaring launch of the Nu's small proton torpedoes, so he was able to watch as each of the Nu's medium laser cannons took out the guard towers surrounding the prison. The viewers stayed opaque as the proton torpedoes slammed into the side of their primary infiltration targets: the prison's command building, main gate, guard barracks, and vehicle park.

His assault shuttle raced over the top of what looked like rows of electrified death fences topped with teeth wires and was the first to land next to the gaping hole in the side of the target. He led his four-male team down the drop ramp just as the second shuttle rapidly touched down next to his. His team immediately engaged the stunned occupants and guard forces still in the yard of the prison. Flashes of ion-pulse blasts, two per target, blinked through the darkness as the first two squads cleared the courtyard in five seconds flat, a dozen corpses falling to the ground behind them.

The Major checked his HUD for the location of the four locator signals before throwing a Merr-Sonn rapid-entry grenade through the gnarled opening in the building's facade. The resulting explosion was dampened by his bucket as his squad entered the prison at a sprint. The second team covered the landing of the third and then quickly followed the Major inside. Behind them flood lights turned the darkened courtyard into day for two seconds before the Nu's gunners expertly took them out with their dual-light laser cannons.

The first two squads secured the entryway by blazing down several inmates that had escaped from their cells and were taking their own flights from whatever passed for justice on this backrocket world. The corridors of the building had been obscured in darkness and a ruptured steam pipe spewed a thick fog over the rubble of toppled walls. Several hand held slugthrowers fired in their direction and the Major targeted a small group of guards at the end of a hallway, one of which fired a larger shot-thrower from five meters away that peppered his armor with scattered metal flechettes of some sort. The Major raised his WESTAR-34 blaster pistol and squeezed the trigger three times. He checked his target finder, ignoring the trio of corpses as they hit the tiled floor.

The place was a maze. His eyelid flickered on his comm icon and he ordered Corporal Sabe from the third squad to enter the building. The only female member of their team, Sabe, came forward armed with a large LJ-50 concussion rifle. The Major just pointed in the direction he wanted to take and the junior NCO unloaded into the nearest wall. Her concussion blasts blew being-sized holes in the prison walls and the rest of the commandos took out guards and prisoners alike as they inched towards their target.

Several automatic slugthrowers engaged his squad and the Major identified uniformed personnel with night vision gear of their own mixed in with the surviving guards. He stepped into the hallway in front of his target, the only light coming from the flashes of the enemy slugthrowers and their impacts on his Katarn armor. He clicked on his Oppressor flamethrower and roasted the remaining guards and soldiers as they crouched behind whatever cover they could find. As several of the Earthling torches were quickly dispatched by his commandos he was suddenly glad he couldn't smell anything through his bucket. As it was, his helmet was helping to keep him alive in the smoke-filled environment.

Corporal Sabe approached the large metallic door the enemy troopers had been protecting. The Major nodded to her after checking his target locator and the young commando slapped thermal detonator tape around several thermal detonators and then backed away. She checked that the other commandos had taken cover before yelling over the comm "Blast in the hole!"

The blast tore the hinges from the wall, but before it hit the floor two of his squad threw flash-bangs into the cell. The pair of commandos were through the door in an instant as the Major provided cover. He heard two sets of double blasts before stepping though the doorway. The commandos stood over the bodies of a pair of heavily armed Terran troopers, but it was the four men in Imperial uniform cuffed together on the far side of the room that had his attention.

The fourth member of the team outfitted the prisoners with re-breathers before blasting their cuffs and handing them stormtrooper armor. The Major approached the four captives as they regained their wits. He was only vaguely aware from comm traffic that the Nu shuttles outside were engaging and destroying some sort of relief column of police vehicles on the road leading to the prison. It gave him a sense of sudden urgency in completing their mission. He picked up the senior male they had rescued, threw him over his shoulder, and flipped on the external speakers on his bucket.

"Where's the Ambassador?" he tersely asked the male as he made his way back to the courtyard for retrieval. The rest of his commandos brought the remainder of the rescued targets with them and covered their retreat.

The male was still groggy and just grunted a response. The Major just jostled him again, "Feirfek Trooper! Where's Phasma?"

"The Princess..." the male stumbled over his answer. Evidently he had been on the receiving end of some harsh earthling hospitality. "...The Ambassador, Phasma, didn't come with us. They kept her where the kriffing abos captured us."

He tossed the freed DiploServ stormtrooper down into a seat in the rear of the Nu that was picking them all up as the other two provided cover. "Fierfek! We're bombarding San Francisco." The Nu loading ramp shut with a thud and the shuttle rocketed for orbit.

[Kalanidavidg]

Flag Bridge, Imperial II-class SD Quill, 40,000 meters above Havana, NAU

Captain Yutu, Director of Fleet Intelligence and Co-minister of the Bureau of Operations, approached the Fleet Admiral of the Maw Defense Fleet with a sense of trepidation. Fleet Admiral Yos stood with his back to Yutu amongst a trio of holoprojectors feeding him information on the attacks going on across the enemy planet beneath them. The bridge was crowded with dozens of technicians and crewmen working diligently at their stations. A gray-uniformed naval steward refreshed the Fleet Admiral's cup of caf as Yutu cleared his throat to talk.

It was no great secret that Yutu had fallen out of favor with the Fleet Admiral ever since the abduction of his only daughter by the nefarious Earthling scum. Yutu had personally guaranteed the youngling ambassador's safety while planet-side, but who would have guessed the inhabitants would have snatched her for use as some sort of human-shield. The Intelligence Chief had erroneously and arrogantly assumed that the cost of retribution had to outweigh any gain they could have accomplished in a kidnapping.

But he finally had his redemption in his possession "Fleet Admiral, We have located the Ambassador." The Commander of Tarkin's Fist spun around and squared off towards the Intelligence Chief. He sported an expression of pride and joy, that hadn't been aimed at Yutu since Phasma's kidnapping.

"Sweet Queen Quinella! She's alive?" The Admiral shouted.

"That information isn't available to us at this moment, Sir." Yutu said, trying to be as diplomatic as possible. He sensed his peer, Captain Dual, the Operations Chief, come up along side him. "We have a pretty good idea where the abos are hiding her though."

The Fleet Admiral looked at the two officers and Yutu could tell he was making the connection. "One of your commando teams dig up some hard data on her abductors?" he asked slowly and with a subtle warning in his tone that failure in this matter wouldn't be tolerated.

"Storm Commando Grek-8 raided the Earth prison where we were tracking the locators on the
Ambassador's guards." Dual said. "The four men were retrieved and are in route to the Quill's MedBay. Phasma was not with them."

Yutu continued the report, "Sir, initial questioning by the officer in charge of the commandos states that your daughter was never moved with the guard force. They have reported that they last saw her and one other guard force member eight days ago at her original abduction site."

"Why aren't we picking up this other guard's locator?" Yos reasonably inquired.

"The last man was her guard force commander, and as such he had no locator surgically embedded in his skin. The males we rescued claimed the other members of her guard force and her personal shuttle crew were killed when the Earthlings abducted her." Yutu explained.

"So where is she now?" It was clear from the dark tone in the Fleet Admiral's voice that the old man was stressed by the situation. Yutu pulled out his datapad and moved it towards one of the Admiral's larger HoloProjectors. Instantly, the HoloImage there changed from a three dimensional image of the battle raging over Target West to one of a large port city. Several officers leaned in to get a better look at the real time image.

"That's Target San Francisco." Captain Nake, commander of the Quill, observed. "It's seen better days, at least since we sent the Ambassador there." Several large fires burned on the southern banks of the harbor and the port facilities had been given a thorough once over by turbolasers.

"That is correct, Captain," Dual interceded, "Target San Francisco was the besh target of the Kuat's Vision. It was given a twenty minute orbital barrage seven hours ago by the Kuati destroyer that is now finishing its target mission package over Target Vancouver, to the north."

"This island in the middle of the harbor is of particular interest." Yutu pushed an icon and the image switched to an intimidating fortress sitting just offshore. Several anti-airspeeder batteries and shore defenses were visible, as well as a considerable amount of obviously new construction and repair of the facilities located there. "These defenses have all been put into place over the course of the last week. My own sources and orbital holopics have confirmed that this island was up until that time a historical tourist park of some sort and served no military purpose."

"If this is normal build-up for the defense of this city then the location of this island would be an excellent location for an unsinkable artillery base." Nake observed.

"We haven't located any other build-up of forces in this particular city, and what surviving NAU forces we have detected still seem to be heading for staging areas in what is called the Central Valley of Upper-California. Probably for use against our forces in Target East." Yutu explained.

"As per Moff Seco's and your own orders, Sir," Dual added, "We have made it quite obvious where we were going to land on the lesser continental mass."

"How long will it take to move the Quill over this San Francisco?" Yos asked Nake.

"Only a few minutes, ten at the most." Nake replied.

"Make it so. Our bombardment of Target Havana is almost complete anyhow." Yos turned to Dual. "Recall the Kuat's Vision, and have her resume her attack on the southern shore of this San Francisco. We will bombard the northern parts of the harbor but under no circumstances is either ship to engage this island. Understood?" The firmness in his voice ensured that his orders would be followed.

"Aye, aye." Dual and Nake responded in unison. Dual gave Yutu a sympathetic look before turning to an aide and issuing the orders to the crew of the Kuati warship.

"Captain Yutu," The Fleet Admiral continued, "You will be accompanying the Storm Commandos on their investigation of this island, um, what was its name again?"

"Alcatraz, Sir."

"Yes this Alcatraz place. Take whomever you need with you. Your team will be launching in ten minutes."

"Aye, Aye." Yutu clicked his heels together and gave the imperial salute. He swallowed hard in disbelief as he thought of his unexpected first combat mission. He was about to turn and head towards the turblolifts when the Fleet Admiral spoke again.

"One more thing, Captain; there is something I gleaned from studying what passes for ancient civilization on Earth, a particular saying that seems most fitting for your mission."

"Anything you feel could help, Sir. What is this local expression?" Yutu was surprised that Yos would cause any further delay in the rescue of his daughter.

"Return with your shield, or on it." The Fleet Admiral's fierce gaze bore into Yutu's eyes. "Do you understand what it means?"

Yes, Sir. Aye, aye." Yutu stammered. The implied threat was crystal clear.

"Dismissed, and good luck, Captain."

Yutu knew at that moment he would never disappoint the old man again. He never again wanted to see that gaze.

He retreated to the turbolift and the moment the doors were closed he took a second to gather his thoughts and calm his nerves. Not only had the Fleet Admiral put the fear of the Emperor in him but he would be entering ground combat for the first time in his life in less than a half hour. The doors to the turbolifts opened onto Beta Hanger and he was immediately greeted by his two subordinates, Lieutenant Commander Knebler and First Lieutenant Murp of Fleet Intelligence. Both had donned stormtrooper armor and were holding their buckets under their arms. They held out a suit of armor to him and he noted with relief that the white suit was made of the newer type of anti-ballistic armor Moff Kuat had developed after they had arrived on Mars.

Inside the hanger five Sentinel-class landing craft were being loaded with a platoon of white clad stormtroopers each. The only difference was that one of them, his own designated craft, was loaded with the blue suited troopers of the DiploServ, or the Ambassador's Guard as they were more commonly known.

"Sorry Sir, we couldn't get any made in Intelligence Red in time," Knebel smirked, as he handed Yutu a red kama and red pauldron. Yutu noted the two other officers sported the pauldrons as well. "I hope these will do."

"They'll do, Commander. I just hope they don't make us too much of a target for enemy snipers." Yutu watched as Knebel gulped hard: evidently his aide hadn't thought of that particular possibility. "Are we hitching a ride with the boys in blue?"

"Yes, Sir," Murp answered. "They insisted on being part of this mission. So much so that they volunteered to be the assault element on the prison while the other four platoons of stormies secure the perimeter. They went so far as telling Captain Dual that they would rescue the Ambassador or lay down their lives trying."

"I guess Dual couldn't pass on that offer. Well, the three of us will be tagging along on their assault." Yutu was almost done donning his unfamiliar body glove and armor and took a few moments more to make sure the kama was sitting right.

"Aye, aye, Sir." Both officers chimed in.

"Be on the lookout for any intel the Earthlings have lying about while we're in there." Yutu led them towards the open ramp of their shuttle. A blue stormtrooper officer nodded at him. Both of them knew they would be coming back with Phasma or not at all.

Yutu led the other two intelligence agents to their jump seats, where they each strapped themselves
in. The ramp closed once the last of the DiploServ Troopers entered the Sentinel. Yutu quickly looked over the mission brief on his holopad as the shuttle gave a small lurch. Yutu felt the craft lift off as the ozone smell of the ion engines filled the cabin. Around him stormtroopers function checked their weapons and went through a dozen separate little rituals to get themselves ready for combat. Very few of them actually spoke to each other and one or two appeared to be asleep, or at least absolutely still in their seats.

Yutu rose from his seat and made his way to the crew cabin. The two pilots barely noticed his presence on their bridge. Through the viewport he watched their high altitude approach to the target. They were situated between the Quill and the Kuat's Vision, both of which had started their renewed bombardment of the city below. The pilot reached across the instrument panel and slowly pushed a lever forward. The sentinel's nose dipped forward and the craft began to plummet towards the planet below; four identical landing craft followed in their wake as turbolaser blasts flashed past them.

A hazy green and blue world slow;y sharpened into a brown coastline and then a smoke-filled gray harbor city. Several miles above the target the crew fought to straighten out the craft's descent. Puffs of black smoke erupted around the shuttle as the earthlings became aware of their presence. Yutu studied the fortress island below them as their escorting shuttles moved to flanking positions with each craft assigned to a different corner of the island. He noted several large anti-airspeeder slugthrowers on the island seconds before the sentinels engaged the batteries. Medium range, carbonite missiles roared from their launchers to slam into each of the earth defenses. Within seconds the enemy fire slackened.
A sudden rocket from one of the closest buildings streaked at the flight of shuttles. It hit one of the escorts. Most of the blast glanced off the crafts shields but still caused some damage to one of the sentinel's wings. The damaged craft descended faster than the others and Yutu watched helplessly as the shuttle slammed into the ground near the prison. He was relieved when stormtroopers raced down its ramps, and quickly saw flashes from their blasters as they engaged enemy targets in the fortress.
The Intelligence Chief watched the other shuttles disappear behind the buildings on the island as the ground rose rapidly towards his own. With a ringing clang the landing skids cracked the poorly-made cement they made contact with, and he felt the thud of the loading ramp swing open in the rear of the craft as the shuttle's wings folded up into its landing position. Several muffled impacts told him that the enemy knew they were in the neighborhood. He turned and strode back into the cargo compartment, which had already been emptied of everyone except for Knebler and Murp, who had waited to escort him outside.

The three of them made their way down the ramp and into the bright sunshine of the Earth's day. Yutu took a second to watch as the star destroyer orbital bombardment rolled over the hills and streets of the city across both sides of the harbor. An unknown crack erupted by his ear and suddenly Knebler was violently pulling him to the ground behind a pile of crumbling gray building material. It took a moment for his inexperienced mind to register that a slug had just whipped past his exposed helmet.
Ahead of them the blue stormtroopers were engaging enemy troopers in the large cell block ahead of them. The enemy had cut firing ports into the side of the building and from there were laying down suppressive fire on the Imperial troops. The Ambassador Guards were using fire and cover maneuvers as they slowly crept closer to the prison. In several places their returning blaster fire ripped through the flimsy earth construction material and made contact with the defending troops. He watched as an advancing blue trooper was hit by slugthrower-fire. The trooper was knocked on his back but rolled over and immediately returned bolts of red plasma at his assailant.

Nearby field medics worked on a trooper who had been hit by a slug in the body glove, right between the two armor plates of his left leg. They slapped several bacta-bandages on the man and sprayed his injuries with numb-spray and hypnocane, before moving him onto a repulserlift stretcher. They quickly moved him back to the open ramp of the sentinel. If they got to him in time, the trooper would be sporting a nice new cybernetic prosthetic and be back in the field in a month or two.

A two-male crew of troopers man-handled an EWHB-12 into position and started laying a withering fire into the enemy positions. Each impact from the weapon tore great chunks from the facade of the building and turned the enemy troopers hiding within into roasted jelly. Another crew manned a proton mortar and lobbed several shells at enemy fighters who had taken up positions on the roof of the building.

"PLEX!" A sergeant in blue armor screamed and a short-range GAM missile roared from a PLX-2M portable missile launcher. The round took half a second to cave in the heavy iron doors at the base of the cell block. "Gas 'em!" The sergeant ordered. Thirty seconds later the PLX roared again; this time its projectile burst open inside the prison block, releasing coma gas to knock out any hidden enemy troopers.

The blue stormtroopers charged towards the gap created by the weapon, followed by the three white-and-red clad intelligence agents. Yutu found himself caught up in the excitement of the raging battle and screamed a war-cry inside his bucket as he gripped his E-11 firmly in his fist. The first stormtroopers hit the gap and Yutu was surprised to see them go to ground so quickly. Their flashes of blaster fire indicated the location of enemy troopers clad in what appeared to be some kind of strange-looking re-breathers. How had his intelligence service missed this seemingly common earth defense he thought? He noticed a dead enemy trooper at his feet as he entered the building and took a moment to remove the near-human's re-breather, and tucked it into his belt for future study.

The DiploServ troopers pushed through and over the bodies of the defenders as they moved deeper into the fortress. Yutu studied the corpses and saw that fewer and fewer of them were in military uniform, but were now increasingly in civilian garb of some form or another. He must be getting closer to his target, he thought, just as a young female voice screamed through the din of the battle.

"Endex your blasting!"

Suddenly all blaster fire ceased. The remaining slugthrowers seemed to be making their retreat further away from the center of the building and right into the blasters of one of the perimeter stormtrooper platoons. The Sergeant from outside was the first to speak. "Who's there?"

"Phasma Yos!"

Every trooper let out an audible sigh of relief; Yutu's was the loudest amongst them

White Sands Missile Range, New Mexico, NAU, Earth

The President of the NAU stared at the glaringly bright landscape outside of his Boeing E-4F Advanced Airborne Command Center. Somewhere beneath him Air Force ground crewmen were refueling the giant command ship as well as a nearby E-8C Joint Surveillance Target Attack Radar Aircraft. Ever since their escape from Washington D.C. several hours ago both planes had been zig-zagging across the North American Union in an attempt to keep the command authority of the Union intact during the alien attack. President Harris continued to glance skyward and tried to pick out their fighter cover in the crisp, blue sky. So far, the alien 'Imperials' had overlooked this particular air base during their massive bombardment of his country. That oversight had allowed them to refuel here and attempt to reconnect with his military forces engaged with the alien enemy.

The aircraft was packed full of dozens of Air Force technicians analyzing data from across the world. Almost all of it was horrible but he had taken solace in the news that the Secret Service had gotten the First Lady and his children out of Miami in time, and that they were now in a secure bunker somewhere in Missouri. If only millions of his countrymen could be relieved of such worries, he thought.

"We're ready for you, Mr. President." Said his National Security Advisor from a few meters away. The man was flanked by a pair of concerned-looking brigadier generals. The President stood and followed them to a soundproof conference room where teams of air force personnel manned a bank of screens.

Each screen showed the face of a military commander or civilian adviser waiting for the video conference to begin. Due to the amount of electronic jamming the aliens had put into the air, his aircraft had had to land and run fiber-optic cables to land lines in order to get this much coverage.
"It's Los Angeles, Sir." The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs announced from a command base somewhere in the Mojave desert. "Pretty much like we guessed from their pattern of bombardment." The President glanced at a nearby computer monitor showing the dispersal of the alien attack on the NAU.

"They've cut off Los Angeles County from the rest of the Union." He shook his head in disbelief. "What is the readiness of the forces in the area?"

The General in charge of the military build-up on the west coast answered. "Mr. President, we currently have twenty-seven divisions moving into the staging areas in the Central Valley, as well as seven divisions inside LA itself. Unfortunately the combat effectiveness of those units is only rated at fifty percent due to large amounts of casualties incurred while moving into the city."

"In regards to casualties, does anyone have any idea how many people we've lost in the cities that have been hit?" Silence greeted him, as he had expected. Over the past eight hours he had watched as city after city had been wiped off the map. The estimates that he had overheard from the technicians manning his aircraft were well into the eight digits. These totals dwarfed the death tolls seen during any presidency before him, including the Spanish influenza, the World Wars, and the Civil War combined.
The Secretary of the Interior broke the silence. "Mr. President, several hundred miles of Upper Californian highway have been razed and another two hundred bridges have been dropped by the aliens, making the deployment of military forces slow to a snail's pace, especially around LA."

"Speaking of LA, all I want to know is, are they on the ground yet?"

"They've moved several hundred of those 'H' fighters over the city, Sir." An Air Force General spoke up. "There was a large air engagement over the past half hour. Casualties are unknown but our own air defense forces have quit the area..."

"They got beat and ran for the hills, is what you're trying to say." The President tried to stay ahead of his rising frustration. Hopefully the army and marines would fare better once the aliens touch down. Eventually someone would have some good news to report, wouldn't they?

"Um, Yes Sir. The alien fighters have air superiority over the city. We have detected larger shuttle craft, with assumed troop-carrying capacity, approaching over the Pacific. ETA is in the next hour and all forces have been alerted."

"What about our little surprises?" The President asked hopefully.

"Eighteen batteries are in the suburbs of LA. As per orders, they haven't engaged the 'H' fighters. Two batteries were destroyed when they were emplaced too close to the aliens' orbital bombardment. We don't believe that they were specifically targeted by the enemy. Most of the newly constructed supply bunkers in the Central Valley were left untouched by the bombardment. The 'special' weapon should deploy within the next 48 hours."

"What of our naval forces in the area? Can we move more troops in by sea?" He hoped for good news of any kind. The last time he had checked with the Joint Chiefs a few hours ago, he had learned of the destruction and sinking of nine of the NAU's twelve aircraft carrier battle groups. A little over eighty thousand sailors and marines were lost with them.

"Sir, they've sank anything over a hundred tons. We've had some luck moving individual pieces of artillery into the city and up and down our coast with smaller craft but the aliens seem to be hunting down all of our big ships."

His Secretary of State chimed in, "Mr. President, the Europeans are having the same issues. They can't promise any heavy divisions coming to our aide and it's taken most of their airlift capacity to get the three divisions they've already started to move over here. As it is, we'll almost certainly have to equip those troops with heavy equipment as well."

"Thank them for their assistance anyways. It's a lot different from the last war, when they were back-stabbing us down south." Several heads on the screens nodded their agreement. "Is there any good news from our allies?"

The Secretary of State's shoulder's slumped, "Still no word from Moscow, Tokyo, Canberra, New Delhi, Tel Aviv, or London. The Chinese are maintaining contact through channels running through Alaska, same with the Southerners in the Caribbean, though how long that lasts is anyone's guess."

"Most of Congress made it out of Washington before the city was destroyed. They've been moved to a secure location in Hot Springs, Arkansas." The Vice-President reported from his location in the Yucatan.
The President wondered if that was actually good news.

"We're still getting some good intel out of the Prisoner." The NSA Director reported, "Nothing from a military aspect, but still useful intel none-the-less." The President's eyes narrowed. The arrest and seizure of the alien ambassador hadn't been a popular choice, and watching as his nation was hit again and again by the girl's father, he could see some of the wisdom in those who were opposed to the decision. But what was he going to do, let the Empire bankrupt and make slaves of the people of Earth? Not likely, he thought.

"Mr. President, it appears the aliens are landing in mainland China. Their forces are ashore in Shanghai according to the Chinese Ambassador." The Secretary of State suddenly interjected. There was a round of excited chatter from each screen at that announcement. The bad news was that the Chinese wouldn't be coming to their aide this time. It probably ruled out their allies the Indians and the Russian Federation as well.

"Sir, spotters are picking up one of those 'Star Destroyers' on approach to this base." A technician announced. The whine of the engines grew louder and he noticed ground crew moving away from the plane outside.

"Mr. President, you need to get out of there." The Vice-President urged, just as the President felt the plane give a small lurch on the tarmac as it started to roll forward. Several of the screens turned to static as their connections were lost.

"Good luck to all of you." He announced as a Secret Servicewoman stepped forward to lead him to his seat for take off. "You have your orders. Time to let these 'Imperials' know they won't take the Earth so cheaply. Keep moving troops into LA; we can't let them get a foothold on our soil." he barely got his words out before the men and women on the monitors were lost to him.

He sat back in his seat and closed his eyes in thought. My God, how had it gotten so bad, so fast? He wondered if he would still have a country to lead when this was all over and done with.

An Air Force steward advanced on him, "Mr. President, The aliens have landed on Alcatraz. Forces there aren't responding to calls on their commo."

"I think I just lost my bargaining chip, Airman." His body slumped in his seat, as hope escaped with his exhalations.

"Can we beat them, Sir?" the airman asked hopefully.

The president hesitated, not feeling certain enough to answer the question that burned in all of their hearts. But he also knew an answer was needed and that he had to provide it. "One things for sure, son. Someone may beat us, but they're going to have to bleed to do it."
The President sighed and closed his eyes once more as the force of the takeoff pressed him back into his seat.

Alcatraz Island, Target San Francisco, NAU, Earth

Second Lieutenant Phasma Yos, Chief Ambassador of the DiploServ Branch of Tarkin's Fist, thought her cell stank. Mold, decay, salt water, and the odor of new construction mixed together to give the air in her prison a pungent smell. She sat with her back to the wall of her cell, her arms crossed over the front of her Ambassadorial white gown, and glared at her captors.

Four males and two females stood on the other side of some strange type of clear plastoid wall and stared back. She knew from observing the personnel of this prison that they didn't wear the military uniform of earth troopers instead they wore an all black, business-type suit. Whenever one of them would move she would catch a glance of the small, hold-out slugthrowers they concealed under their clothes. She smirked when she thought how much trouble they were going through just to guard a twelve-year old girl.

Even the cell seemed archaic. The clear plastoid seemed much weaker than transperisteel or even regular plastoid. She wondered why they didn't use a containment field to hold her, or even if they had developed that simple device yet. Their lack of stun cuffs or slave collars had been a relief, though they did have simple binders a guard had called 'handcuffs'. Her cell was newly constructed specifically for her and offered no privacy, though the earthlings had several female guards and matrons that would watch her when she needed a private moment.

She figured that she had been abducted a little over one of the earthling's seven day weeks ago, and had noticed a change in routine over the past day. They were getting scared, she knew, and they had every right to be. They had illegally, by their own laws even, kidnapped the daughter of Fleet Admiral Aveo Yos, the most powerful being who had ever sailed a fleet into this backrocket system. Early this morning she had been awakened by the distant rumble and impact of what could only have been an orbital bombardment. Evidently the time for diplomacy had passed, she mused from her cell.

She still couldn't believe what a mistake it had been on the Terran's part in abducting her. She remembered her meeting with their political leaders, and their subsequent betrayal, which had led to the deaths of her two shuttle crewmen during the earthling's traitorous rocket ambush. She worried about her four bodyguards who had been taken away. The enemy's so-called Secret Service had located electronic impulses coming from the guards and had correctly deduced that they had some sort of locating device inside of them. It had been a wise move on their part. She had been surprised to learn from the Terrans that Sergeant FG-5638 was somewhere in this prison this morning.

One of the guards had told her the history of her prison and was impressed by all the famous criminals the place had held in the past. All she had noted, however, was when he had mentioned that no one had ever escaped from the place.

After last week's ambush she had been moved quickly to her current location. She had had a black mask placed over her head and those metallic binders on her wrists, but she had heard waves and smelled the salt air and knew she hadn't gone far.

The interrogations had started early on. She had been questioned while being connected to a novel device, which the earthlings had informed her could detect lies, so she remained silent whenever she was near it. She had been seen by teams of therapists and government investigators those first two days, and she had kept quiet, except to relish throwing the Geneva Accords and her Miranda Rights back in their faces. The Earthlings had informed her that the Empire wasn't a signer of the Accords, nor was she a citizen of the NAU, and as such had no Miranda rights. They told her that her rights of Habeas Corpus had been suspended as well. She already knew this but used any angle she could think of to delay her questioners. She knew that every word she uttered was being analyzed by the enemy.
They brought her plenty to eat and drink and even changes of clothes, though she preferred her own white gown as a symbol of her office. She suspected the food might be laced with narcotics or whatever the local varient of spice was but she had taken Lotrimine before heading to Earth in an effort to countermand any truth-gas the earthlings might have applied at their initial meeting with her and so she gave them nothing. They had taken blood samples as well as every other type of fluid they could. She didn't blame them; Imperial Intelligence would have done the same, and had, on Mars and on the Earth's own moon.

Her only condition had been to be allowed to walk outside of the drafty prison. And after a few days of stony silence on her part the Terrans had acquiesced to her request, though under heavy guard. She had laughed when the guard force surrounding her on her first walk had been a dozen guards and two heavily armed platoons of NAU Marines, along with interrogators and camera crews to record her every move and word.

She admired a long orange bridge at the entrance of the bay as one of the earthling airspeeder carriers sailed out to sea beneath it. A twenty-something female earthling approached her, no doubt chosen because the abos thought Phasma would find some solace in a mutually gendered being of a youthful age.

"Hello Phasma, I'm Sarah." The woman had introduced herself.

"You may address me as Ambassador or Second Lieutenant." Phasma had icily responded. She didn't bother to meet her gaze.

"Ok, Ambassador, we've let you outside. Can you tell me a little about yourself? What planet were you born on?"

Phasma feared they wouldn't let her out again if she didn't cooperate a little. No military or science information though, she silently reminded herself.

"I was born on the Star Destroyer Quill, though if I had a home planet it would probably be Subterrel, rimward in the Outer Rim Territories." Phasma watched in amusement as this so-called Sarah tried to form her next question. Would it be about the Quill or Subterrel? She gave each subject a fifty-fifty chance.

"So you were raised on this Subterrel place? It is a member of your 1st Galactic Empire correct?"

"Oh, yes it's been so since the end of the Clone Wars." The name of the epic war slipped out, and Phasma wondered what the Earthling's would make of that.

Sarah stood staring at her for a minute before continuing. "So, Subterrel and this other planet, Imperial Center, are the only members of the Empire? Evidently your Emperor Palpatine resides on Imperial Center, correct?"

Phasma saw no harm in giving the earthlings a lesson in galactic geography, especially on a galaxy they were unlikely to ever reach. "Subterrel is a minor planet in an insignificant sector in the Empire. I doubt most citizens of the Empire even know of her."

"So how big is your Empire? I mean, how many planets lie within its domain?"

"Planet-wise, I don't know, I learned in school that it was about a million and a half member planets, with another fifty million protectorates, colonies, and governorships stretching from Wild Space to the Deep Core. I believe it's only about a fourth of the galactic disc though." Phasma explained. Hopefully these Terrans would be intimidated by the numbers they were up against.

"A fourth, so there are areas that the Empire doesn't control? Are they inhabited?" Sarah seemed more hopeful in her line of questioning.

"Some are, there's Hutt Space, the Hapes Cluster, or the Corporate Sector Authority..." Phasma wondered if she should be mentioning them.

"Would any of these civilizations be interested in an alliance with Earth?"

Phasma almost burst out in wild laughter. She had forgotten the Earthlings still believed that Tarkin's Fist was from their own galaxy. She wondered how many resources they would waste pursuing strategies they had deduced from her misleading answers.

"Of course, you can always try to reach them. I doubt they could arrive here in time to give your planet any aid however." Her questioner frowned at that but moved on to the next question, which pertained to Imperial commo and how to overcome the electronic jamming that was aimed at Earth. Phasma became stoney and silent when asked those questions.

So it went for several days. Her questioners would take her outside and start with benign questions. She was asked about Imperial foods, animals, what Mars was like with a breathable atmosphere, about her father, what she studied in school. She avoided a lot of answers and would always remain as silent as the grave the topic veered onto military matters.

On her sixth day of captivity she was on her walk with her heavily armed guard force in a thick fog that had rolled in off of the nearby bay. She strolled past anti-airspeeder slugthrower positions that had been dug over the past few days and around new emplacements that were still under construction. Several companies of earth troopers drilled in the morning fog.

Sarah seemed more nervous than usual when she started her inquiries that morning and Phasma noted several troopers that kept staring up into the heavens, as if they could spot an imminent assault. She wondered if her father was drawing close.

"Second Lieutenant Yos, you mentioned the Clone Wars before." Sarah began.

"Yes, my father fought in them over a standard decade ago."

"Were you aware that you might also be a clone?"

Phasma's jaw dropped in disbelief. Her tongue struggled for the right words to throw back into her interrogator's face, but her mind was simply too confused at the far-fetched accusation. "Why would you say that?"

"As you might have guessed, we have done extensive medical testing on you and the soldiers that made up your guard force. We have noted that the DNA between your guards and the people of Earth are just about identical; they have some vitamin deficiencies, such as almost no potassium in their system, but are otherwise the same as we are."

"Go on. I believe I've heard this same report from our scientists after our conquest of Mars, but continue."

"Your DNA however, is much different. Our own doctors have noted that your DNA seems altered,
almost manufactured. When tested, you seem to be immune to almost every disease and malady we can think up; your actual cell-death seems minimal, almost as if you were designed to last several centuries. Your IQ is extremely high, even compared to your own men. Surely you've noticed how your reflexes and senses seem amplified."

Could this female be speaking the truth? Phasma had no doubts the medical technology of the Earthlings was archaic but it should still be able to pick up basic differences in DNA. Phasma chose not to respond, as she was lost in her own confusing internal search for answers. She knew who her father was and tried to remember everything she had ever known about her mother. Which wasn't much, she realized. She had been born. Born, she reminded herself, in the Subterrel Sector out in the asteroid belt. There wasn't anything out there except those back-world archeologists, the Polis Massans.

"By the Emperor..." she blurted out. The Polis Massans were cloners as well. They had learned the art from the Kaminoans and had helped provide huge orders of shovel-handed clones to work the mines of Subterrel once upon a time. "...I need to return to my cell, I'm not feeling well." Sarah nodded and the guard force led her back inside the prison. Phasma noticed the smile of satisfaction that passed over Sarah's features.

The rest of that day the earthlings came frequently to her cell to check on her medical vitals and her mental condition, but she was too distracted to talk with any of them. The night came and went and she stayed awake through most of it pondering whether or not what the Earthlings had told her was true.

She had finally drifted off sometime before dawn when a screaming guard had woken her. "Murderer! How could you? My family was in Chicago!" I'll kill you..." The guard was fumbling with his keys when he was tackled by several other guards and hauled away.

An hour later the distant sounds of rumbling thunder and the small tremors of groundquakes started. Dust and debris fell from several areas of the prison visible from her cell, and a distant siren sounded over and over again. Her guards whispered nervously amongst themselves and nobody dared address her for quite a while. A few minutes after the rumbling, distant pounding of explosions ended her interrogator Sarah appeared; this time she wore some type of cheap body armor complete with a helmet and a slugthrower strapped to her thigh.

"It's time for you to talk," Sarah's tone was menacing, "You can go for a walk if it'd help, but you'll be shackled on both your wrists and ankles."

"Fine. But I warn you, I don't have much to say to beings who abduct peaceful ambassadors." Phasma retorted. A guard approached and attached metal binders to her appendages. When she rose she found she could only shuffle slowly forward. The guards led her out of the cell and out of the prison. She noted the snarled wreckage of that beautiful orange bridge on the far side of the harbor and smiled at the audacity of the earthlings in resisting the Empire.

"What is the main weakness of a Star Destroyer?" Sarah started.

"As if I would ever tell you that." She wanted to laugh in her captor's faces.

"What is the main gas used by the lasers of your fleet?" What is the speed and maneuverability of your 'H' fighters?" Sarah barked at her. Phasma just glared at her, but she got the impression the earthlings were done playing around.

"I have no idea what an 'H' fighter is, and if I did I certainly wouldn't tell you."
Sarah ignored Phasma's refusal and pressed forward. "How long after an orbital attack would it take for your father to launch an invasion? Would your soldiers be equipped like they were on the moon?"

"Farkle off, Bugslut." Phasma put as much bile in that as she could. Sarah slapped her across the face. The other guards pretended not to see anything.

"Millions of my countrymen woke up this morning and were suddenly murdered by your father. Don't you dare speak to me in that tone." Sarah warned. Phasma remained stubbornly silent. Sarah grabbed her by the binder and led her to an area where several black-suited guards stood around an Imperial-uniformed being in binders of his own, kneeling on the hard ground. He had a black bag over his head but Phasma felt a lump grow in her throat when she realized who it was underneath the mask.

Sarah approached the figure and lifted off the bag. Before her knelt the battered and broken form of FG-5638, her guard force sergeant. His eyes met hers and relief washed over his features. His face was covered in bruises and cuts, which was alarming in itself, but Phasma was aghast when he opened his mouth to reveal his had chewed off his own tongue. Evidently the brave NCO had refused to talk as well. He mumbled strange sounds of warning, but the only word she made out was..."Princess..."

"Yes, Princess," Sarah taunted her, "The kiddie gloves are off; you are going to tell us what we need to know. Or do the lives of your men mean nothing to you?" The earthling pulled out a small hand-held slugthrower and pressed it to FG-5638's temple. There were several tense seconds. "Well, Phasma, are you going to tell us what we want? Are you going to tell us how to defend ourselves, or is poor FG-5638 here going to have to pay the price for your stubbornness?"

FG-5638 shook. His eyes pleaded for her to remain silent, and she was compelled by his act of bravery to follow his voiceless order. She didn't know how many deathly quiet seconds passed before the roar of the slugthrower's blast rang out. Phasma jumped at the climatic, ear-shattering noise and tore her gaze away from FG-5638's lifeless body smacking into the cement floor.

"Scum." Phasma whispered.

Sarah just sneered back. "Work her over," She told the black-suited guards, "We don't have a lot of time if we're going to stop those starships from destroying more cities." Two guards took Phasma by the arms and led her back inside. As she caught her last glimpse of the horizon she desperately searched it for the outline of a Star Destroyer.

Once inside she was taken to a medical bay and strapped to a chair. A medic injected something into her arm and Phasma hoped she still had traces of Lotrimine running through her veins. A bank of bright lights was shone in her face as the earthlings started firing questions at her.

"How many troops have you brought into this system? What types of weapons do they use? What types of armor? Supplies? Ammunition? Weak spots on Star Destroyers? 'H' Fighters? Jamming and communication equipment?" The interrogation seemed endless and mostly fruitless until they tried a new tactic. Her chair was suddenly turned and the back was flipped rearwards, so that she was laying with her head inclined downwards. Her captors then started pouring water over her face and into her breathing passages. She unsuccessfully fought her gag reflex and as the water torture continued she feared the Terrans might actually drown her. Again and again they repeated the process until she screamed, "Please, I'll talk, just stop."

"Good, I'm sure you have much to tell us." Sarah's voice menacingly came from somewhere on the other side of the lights. "Now, first off..." Her voice trailed off as nearby explosions erupted to the north and south.

Her father was back. Phasma grasped at a new hope.

"...Move her back to her cell." Sarah commanded the guards. Phasma was unstrapped and hurriedly shoved back to her cell.

Several soldiers rushed by her cell but a handful of the black-suited guards stayed behind to watch her. She jumped when a series of large explosions erupted from every direction around the perimeter of the small island where she was imprisoned. They were quickly followed by the bark of dozens of slugthrowers firing. She saw the guards listening to the firefight on their comms and struggled to make out the distant sounds of blaster fire. A large blast followed by several smaller explosions pierced the cell block and suddenly the sounds of the fight enveloped her. She heard the roar of an E-web ripping into the earth defenders and the whine of several shuttles before the terrible clanging of the iron doors of the prison being ripped off their hinges rang in her ears.

Several heartbeats passed in silence before she noted the sickly smell of coma gas wafting through the cell block. The guards outside her cell donned some strange type of re-breathers and took up positions to repel the Imperial assault. Bandaged and bloodied soldiers retreated past them. She fought to hold her breath against the gas and covered her mouth and nose with a wet towel. Then suddenly red blaster bolts tore into the last of the guards. The blaster bolts shredded defensive cover and earthling alike.

Suddenly there was a single blue stormtrooper in front of her cell, his E-11 pointed at her mid-section. "Endex your blasting!" she screamed.

"Who's there?" an electrically-enhanced voice cut through the smoke and din of the dying battle.

"Phasma Yos."

Her eyes stung from the coma gas as she watched the Imperial troops cut their way into her cell. A white stormtrooper with the red kama and pauldron of Naval Intelligence placed an earth-style rebreather on her face. "Thank you..." She said. She noted the stormtrooper's rank squares as he bent over her and then, she spurted and coughed and tried to come to attention, "...Captain Yutu." She fired off her best salute to her boss in the Bureau of Operations.

"Believe me." He made a circular motion with his hand to another white stormtrooper behind him, "It was my pleasure. We need to get you off this rock and back up to the Quill." The troopers behind him started gathering up whatever they could from the area outside her cell.

Several of her blue DiploServ troopers formed around her as they led her through the cell-block. She noted how Yutu commanded his own stormtroopers in gathering intelligence papers, earth cameras, and computers as fast as they could. Evidently they weren't planning on staying here very long. In the distance she heard the dying sounds of the battle raging outside.

Once outdoors, she was greeted by the sight of several large Sentinel-class shuttles parked on the edges of the island. Stormtroopers stood guard over almost a hundred captured earthlings, kneeling in ranks, with their hands clasped behind their heads. A pair of stormtroopers with red pauldrons were going through each captured soldier's gear. Blue and white stormtroopers were hurriedly loading their own gear and heavy weapons back aboard the shuttle, along with several varieties of Earth gear for future study. She was relieved to see a pair of medics retrieving FG-5638's remains from inside the cell block.

"Can we take them all?" She gestured to the Earthlings before her and asked Captain Yutu, who refused to leave her side.

"We don't have the room..." He started to explain, but something had caught her eye.

"Can I borrow your sidearm?" Phasma interrupted him. With a quizzical look he handed over his blaster. Phasma had seen something in the row of prisoners, something that had filled her with rage. Under her trooper's watchful gaze she walked amongst the rows of earthlings. Their beaten faces shone with a mix of hope and hatred at appearance of the twelve year old. She ignored them. She walked until she stood in front of her blonde tormentor, Sarah.

Sarah glared at her as Phasma placed the muzzle to the Terran's forehead. Sarah spoke, her voice tinged with hate, "I was doing it to protect my own people. You would have done the same. Do it. Your whole Empire is nothing more than a bunch of murderers..."

The small blaster barely had any recoil at all when it went off in Phasma's hand. The bolt slammed into Sarah's temple and her body slumped to the ground. "So uncivilized." she shuddered, as the hate from her first murder left her body.

A collective gasp rose from the captured prisoners around her. Her guards moved closer to protect her in case one of them tried to foolishly assault her. Phasma addressed the prisoners. "You beings have five minutes after we depart before we eradicate this island with our Star Destroyers. If you survive, tell your planet that the Empire is not to be trifled with." Then she turned and walked back towards the shuttle, Where the last of the assault force was loading.

Over the whine of shuttles taking off she heard Captain Yutu's voice, "A friend of yours, I take it?"

"I don't want to talk about it." Hate seeped from her body as the effects of her first killing of a near-human left her body with a shudder.

"Fair enough." He replied, leading her and the last of her guards up the loading ramp.
"Captain Yutu, can you keep a secret?" She wondered for a second if she should ask him her question. After all Yutu was her father's man. But he was also one of the few that could find out the truth without her father finding out.

"Of course."

"Can you tell me everything you know about my father and cloning?" The ramp slammed shut behind them.

[Kalanidavidg]

Culter City, Mars, 1st Martian Empire

The day had started quietly; the moon of Phobos shone in the morning sky above the city. The skies had only recently begun their change from orangey-red to an oxygen-rich indigo more in tune with their rival Earth's horizons. The weather had promised to warm up to almost spring-like temperatures, and thanks to their terraforming efforts a seasonal rain had drenched the landscape only the night before.

Thousands of the city's inhabitants had piled into their landspeeders or public airspeeders and maneuvered around the growing metropolis towards their jobs in hundreds of factories and greenhouses. Public shuttles carried driveyard workers through the skies to the KDY orbital driveyards. Droids and beings filed in to perform their duties at the massive, undermanned manufacturing plants, agricultural combines, terraforming plants, and enormous shipyards in orbit above the city. Others struggled to make it to work as traffic snarled the city's roadways and skyways, as the sun started to burn off the puddles of overnight rain.

Everywhere beings went the HoloNews brought updates from the naval fleet surrounding their declared adversary, Earth. The fleet carried with it the hopes of the new-borne Empire and to many it carried their loved ones and family members that had chosen to serve Mars and the Empire. A thousand different species manned the warships of Tarkin's Fist and their dependents hoped that the Force was with them.

Towards mid-afternoon news of the opening blasts of the bombardment reached Mars. Beings shook each others' hands and felt good about finally hitting back on the foreign culture that had dared to attack them and kidnap their young ambassador. Every heavy turbolaser impacting on the Earth would let them sleep easier at night. Every plasma impact was another step closer to their servicebeings returning safe to the Empire.

Throughout the day beings gathered around the HoloNews broadcasts on their breaks or offered opinions about the distant war around their water filtrators. At the new Martian Imperial Academy cadets drilled and talked in anticipation of their own future deployments with the fleet. Across the city younglings of all ages excitedly watched history in the making as their teachers let them view the Holonews inside their classrooms.

That evening, as shifts of droids continued at their stations and another shift of workers reported to the most essential of industries, the HoloNews interrupted all broadcasts. The scoreboard at Wild Space Stadium flashed the news, stopping the limmie match between the East Culter City Imperials and the West Side Martian Warriors. The lights of Tarkin Square flashed the message to evening shoppers and the announcement on the huge Holoprojectors at Skywalker Memorial Racetrack halted the podrace about to commence.

The Chief Ambassador and daughter to the Fleet Admiral, Phasma Yos, had been rescued by the special forces of Tarkin's Fist. Their very own princess was coming home; she was safe. With the announcement there came the whispered hopes that every one of their loved ones would make it home safely as well.

The Long Jump Casino gave away drinks on the house for the rest of the evening as their HoloViewers showed images of the Fleet Admiral and his daughter aboard the Quill. The Fleet Admiral had declared them a new Martian Empire just the week before, and even if he wasn't crowned as Emperor soon his young daughter was already royalty in his being's eyes.

Shiny, new TIE/In Interceptors flew over the city, releasing thousands of blossoming fireworks high above the cheering crowds. People hearing the news in their homes flocked to the city center. An Imperial Marine bent a pretty pink Twilek girl backwards and planted a kiss on her lips, just as a HoloNews reporter caught the image and flashed it on the massive HoloProjectors above the crowd.
Bottles of alcohol and hand-lit fireworks flowed freely through the masses. When an image of the two Yos family members appeared live on the HoloProjectors, the crowd roared its exuberation. Above the Fleet Admiral a holographic sign proclaimed "Mission Accomplished!"

To the citizens of the Martian Empire that was enough; their Princess was coming home to Mars.

3500 meters over the East China Sea, Nearing Yangtze Delta, Target West

"It's gonna be full of Mandos." Dusel worried aloud to his fellow Imperial Army pilot, Malm.

Both of them sat behind the control panels in the cockpit 'head' of their Imperial Walker. Neither one of them had ever seen combat with their AT-AT before, so this would be a baptism by fire for them both. From the gunner's chair Malm flipped a toggle on their viewscreen's HoloProjector and brought up the images being transmitted from the pilots of the Incom Y-85 Titan Dropship that was carrying their walker, along with three others, into the invasion beaches.

"No kriffing way. It's just bantha poodoo HoloNet propaganda, Gullipad. There's no way the Mandolorians made it all the way out to this mudball."

"I'm betting it's something like a bunch of their descendants bred with the locals, probably in order to make some kind of new super-soldier race." Dusel offered.

"You're just psyching yourself out." Malm refused to concede the argument that served to distract them from the fear of entering their first combat mission. Their HoloProjection showed several flights of TIE/sa bombers racing in formation and plastering targets ahead of the lumbering dropships. The bomber's proton torpedos ripped the guts out of the newly built defenses stretched along the oceanfront of the city. "From everything we've seen on Mars and their local moon, they've been a bunch of push-overs, and except for the Insertion, they haven't been able to do a sith-damned thing about it either."

"So you think this will be a blue-milk run?" The AT-AT shook in its containment as the Titan hit a patch of turbulence.

Both pilots looked up at Target West ahead. A solid wall of smoke and flames surrounded the city, a result of the orbital bombardment that had aimed to cut the city off from the rest of its country. Dusel stared intently at TIE/In starfighters driving off the last of the Earth airspeeders over what he had learned was locally named, Shanghai.

Puffs of black smoke erupted over the burning metropolis as the enemy's slugthrowers began to put up a heavy protective curtain of flak coverage. Dusel hated to imagine what would happen when all of those supposedly 'lead' slugs they were throwing up, came down. Not his problem, he reminded himself. As they approached, several columns of white smoke rose quickly from the city as anti-airspeeder missiles rose to meet them. Laser and plasma cannons from the escorts immediately met the challenge and orange explosions erupted in several locations ahead of his force.

Suddenly there was hurried motion amongst the escorts. They seemed to be chasing faster, more maneuverable missiles that were streaking towards the Imperial invasion force. "Malm, see if you can get an ID on any of those?"

The gunner engaged his targeting computer. His holographic targeting system gave Malm a 360 degree view of the battlefield and was fed the latest enemy equipment updates from fleet intelligence.
"3M-80MBE Sunburns, anti-ship missiles." they both watched in horror as one of the weapons got through the escorts and smashed into a LAAT/c ahead of them. The small transport tore itself apart in mid-air and fell out of formation towards the shiny blue ocean below, several doomed stormtroopers plummeted from the wreckage. Alarm tones chirped inside their command space. One of the remaining missiles was bearing down on the dropship. Dusel could only hold his breath; until the dropship released the AT-ATs they were completely at the mercy of the Titan's defensive systems.

The walker rattled violently in its containment rack as the missile slammed into the dropship's forward deflector shield. Lights flickered on and off inside the massive cargo hold for a moment as the starship's crew responded from the hit.

"Wow, the Titan's shield is only at thirty percent and raising after that one." Malm informed him. It was information Dusel could do without as he scanned the sky for more of the sneaky projectiles.

"What was that?" Major Wells, the Walker's Commander, suddenly appeared at his place in the cockpit. He had been checking on the ready status of the forty Imperial Marines that filled the AT-ATs cargo hold when the attack began.

"Anti-ship missiles, Sir." Malm informed him, "Got one of our smaller carriers but the escorts seem to have shot down the rest of them."

"One of them hit the Titan a second ago, Sir." Dusel spoke up.

"That's what we felt, huh. Well, time to get tactical." The officer said, "Driver, warm her up. We'll be dirtside in a few minutes."

Dusel reached his gloved-hands across the control panels and began the start-up process on the two KDY FW62 Compact Fusion Drive Systems that powered the walker.

"Gunner, prime the blasters. We're the second Walker on the beach." Malm went through the procedure to charge and boresight the chin-mounted Taim & Bak MS-1 Heavy Laser Cannons, as well as the medium repeating blasters on the sides of the walker's 'head'. The walker hummed to life as the Titan lurched in its continued descent

"Attention all walkers." A voice rose from a small blue, holoimaged figure between Dusel and Malm. The holoimage of the Titan's captain faced Major Wells, "Five minutes to landing. Stormtrooper carriers are already on the ground. Enemy resistance is at Case Yellow conditions."

Dusel watched the holoprojection of the battle and saw where the Imperial troops were landing. He could feel his heart start to beat faster as the Titan neared its landing zone. He tried to take in everything that was happening around them to distract himself from his own building sense of the jeeblies.

Two AT-AT swimmers were being dropped off by Theta-class barges off-shore, while several AIAT/i patrolled the waterways alongside the city. He watched in awe as one of them turned a large wooden sailing ship to kindling seconds after hitting the water. His gaze passed over the metropolis; he didn't see a lot that he liked. They had a huge tower in the middle of the skyline that would have been considered pretty if Dusel weren't convinced that it was packed full of Mando artillery spotters.

MAATs and LAATs dropped off hundreds of platoons of stormtroopers as enemy artillery rolled in from the west. Blaster fire mixed with strange red slugfire that came from concealed positions along the shore. The stormtroopers charged inland as the Titan made its approach. Dusel tried to ignore several prone, unmoving figures in white that were left behind as the first of the Imperial forces swept over the outnumbered seaside defenders.

"Long way from Chandrila, isn't it Dusel?" Malm asked next to him.

Dusel thought of his home world. He'd probably never see it again. He had been raised on a plantation and trained by his father to drive and maintain the enormous agricombines that harvested the planet's crops. It had been boring, stifling work, and Dusel had yearned for more. Chandrila's society had always emphasized peace and education, and service in the new Empire was something that was usually shunned. So it had been a shock to both his mother and father when he had enlisted in the

Stormtrooper Corps. His father had practically disowned him. Malm sported a similar story, but his was set on the peace-loving planet of Alderaan.

Dusel's experience with massive vehicles and machinery had launched his career as an Imperial Army Pilot of the AT-AT walker. He had jumped at the chance, and then a year after enlisting he had been shipped to the Horuz and prepared for the 'big jump' to the maw with the rest of Tarkin's Fist. His arrival in this unknown system had been a shock to him, as well as to the entire Armor Corps, but training on the red plains of Mars had been a thrill and he had never seen a more exciting place than Culter City. With all of the construction going on and the rapid changes in the city's entertainment options, every day there was filled with the promise of something new. The only problem that any being on the roadway could see was their potential adversary on Earth. In true Imperial fashion Dusel agreed that their rival had to be taken down a few pegs.

An explosion somewhere in the city ahead sent a giant fireball cascading into the air. Nervous sweat started beading under Dusel's uniform. "Yes, we're definitely nowhere near Chandrila anymore."

The Titan descended the last few hundred meters and approached what appeared to be a multi-laned roadway running between the waters of the harbor and the taller skyscrapers. The holomap reader inside the command head labeled the area the Pudong District. The Titan rumbled to a stop and hovered forty meters over the roadway.

"Switch the viewscreen back to normal." Major Wells ordered, and with a flick of Malm's hand the view changed from the holographic outside battle to the real time internal view of the Titan's hold. The floor underneath the walker next to theirs retracted and their sister AT-AT was already slowly descending towards the planet's surface.

Dusel reached across the panel and switched off the atmospheric exchangers, then performed a final cross-check of all his drive-systems. Mentally, he started pumping himself up for his first taste of combat and tried unsuccessfully to push his jeeblies aside. Every veteran he had asked had told him it was nothing like the combat simulators or field training he had already experienced. He breathed out a long, steady exhale to calm his nerves as the floor retracted beneath his walker.

A huge containment claw-arm lowered the AT-AT to the ground and sunlight suddenly lit up the command head as the walker left the hold. The cockpit viewport as well as Dusel's helmet lenses polarized to protect his eyes. When the footpads of the massive vehicle were about a meter off of the ground the claw arm released it and receded back into the Titan. The AT-AT hit the battlefield with an initial dip as the shock absorbers in its knees bore the impact of the drop. In a single instant the AT-AT was fully-battle-ready, engines and blasters charged.

The buildings nearest the roadway had already been turned to rubble by TIE/sa bombers, and the AT-AT to their right flank was already advancing towards what appeared to be another debris-covered street. Dusel could see white-clad, camouflaged stormtroopers moving through the rubble, the flashes of their blasters indicating enemy positions in the buildings ahead.

"Driver, move out. Follow TW-49's lead" The AT-AT's commander ordered. Dusel engaged the drive-throttles and the walker advanced steadily in formation as the Titan dropped the remaining two walkers behind them. Dusel followed the lead walker, TW-49, in its advance. He smiled in glee as his AT-AT's huge, durasteel left front footpad stepped on an earth landspeeder, crushing the vehicle into scrap metal.

Several AT-STs raced ahead of his formation. One block ahead they pivoted and engaged an enemy roadblock in a one-sided skirmish before continuing their advance. A second later a rocket streaked from a floor in a nearby skyscraper, the projectile bouncing harmlessly off one of the scout walkers in front of them.

"Gunner, Target, Infantry Front." Major Wells ordered as he spotted the attacking anti-armor team. "About the seventh or eighth floor, Corporal."

"Identified." Malm located the rocket team by following the smoke trail of their weapon. The gunner's own targeting computer fed his helmet's HUD heat sources within the building, which further identified the enemy troopers hidden there.

"Fire."

"On the way." Malm responded with glee in his electronically amplified voice. The twin chin-mounted heavy blasters erupted. Heavy blaster bolts slammed into the face of the building just moments before two of the other walkers in their platoon engaged the same target. The enemy troopers were instantly vaporized as the blasts pulverized multiple floors.

"Continue to engage that target, Gunner. Bring it down." The AT-AT Commander ordered. "Driver, hold back a bit."

Dusel brought the walker to a halt as the trailing two AT-ATs came up on his left flank. All four of the armored vehicles poured heavy blaster fire into the base of the building as well as the two buildings that bordered it. It did not take long before all three were in the process of collapse. A huge cloud of dust billowed from the base of the collapse, rolling out and covering the AT-STs and stormtroopers below. The height of his walker allowed it to keep its command head just above the cloud as it settled.
His eyes were drawn to several pairs of field medics pulling repulser-stretchers to the rear. Their loads filled with dead or wounded stormtroopers smashed to jelly by the enemy artillery. Another walking wounded was being helped to the rear by his comrades, the casualty's arm was missing just below the elbow. Thank the Force he was behind forty decimeters of durasteel armor he told himself.

Dusel's thermal imaging system let him watch as the AT-STs charged ahead once again despite the poor visibility of the dust cloud. Stormtroopers raced into the newly collapsed rubble to clear out any enemy that may have miraculously survived the attack. Dozens of TIE/sa bombers above him raced ahead to flatten enemy positions ahead of the assault. Dusel silently hoped there would still be some left for them when they cleared the rubble field.

Through the smoke and dust of the battlefield Dusel noticed the huge tower he had spotted on their descent. The HoloMap reader labeled it the Oriental Pearl Tower, and it had the appearance of a needle with a ball impaled upon it. No sooner did Dusel wonder if it was harboring enemy artillery spotters, than the sound of a sledgehammer rattled through the walker from its cargo hold. After a few thumping heartbeats the rattle of incoming impacts had increased until it sounded as if someone was throwing huge handfuls of stones at his AT-AT's durasteel hull.

"Major, we're taking heavy slugthrower fire." Malm informed the commander as his 360 degree battlefield targeting computer identified the threat.

"What do we have?" Wells asked.

"Looks like 105 and 155 millimeter slugs, exactly what we were briefed to expect."

"That's their standard artillery. Do we have a shot?"

"No line of sight, Major."

"I'll call air support. I haven't heard if they've got the AT-APs or the SPHA-MDs in place yet."

"Sir," Dusel interjected, "I'm betting the enemy is calling in indirect artillery slug-fire from that big tower over there." He pointed at the building through the forward viewscreen.

"Sounds like a good Sabacc, Corporal. Come left forty-five degrees and plant her." Dusel toggled the stick and felt the massive walker lurch to the port side. As soon as he brought her around far enough he planted all four legs in place to give the Gunner a steady firing platform.

"Gunner, try to hit it as close to the base as possible."

This presented some difficulty as the tower was still a few blocks off, and the best Malm could do was hit it some eight floors from the ground. A heavy slug bounced off of the lead right leg, vibrating Dusel's teeth.

"Target, forward, tower."

"Identified." Malm stated flatly, lining up his heavy blasters.

"Fire."

"On the way." Malm slammed his thumbs down on the firing studs.

Dusel felt the two heavy blasters slam back and forth beneath the 'head', as two red bolts roared across the city. They found their target a hundredth of a second later, impacting and then exploding through the distinctive edifice. Immediately the building buckled on one side, snapping into several massive sections as it slammed into the streets around it.

"Driver, move out." Dusel followed the command and twisted the toggles forward. "Punch it, Corporal!" The AT-AT's commander ordered. Dusel charged his walker through the rubble ahead of him. Almost instantly the rattle of artillery impacts died away.

"Enemy slug-fire is still falling on our last position." Malm informed the crew. "Without their spotters they must figure we're still there."

"Good job crew." Major Well's smile could be seen from behind his targeting periscope. "Let's keep scanning for targets."

Dusel brought their walker back into formation with the rest of the platoon of AT-ATs. They lumbered ahead through the collapsing rubble of the Chinese metropolis, striking towards their first objective line, the Haungpu River. Dusel felt himself start to calm down for the first time since they had touched down dirtside. He checked the time inside his HUD and noted they were well ahead of schedule.

"The 564th and 293rd Stormtrooper Legions are reporting breakthrough on our flanks." Malm reported; one of his duties was to monitor field commo. The Gunner pushed the stubs again, sending more superheated bolts ahead of them in support of the advancing stormtroopers. "Scouts are reporting that large amounts of enemy troops have been sighted retreating towards the river."

"Good. Let's not let our guard down." Their officer warned. As if to emphasize his points a large slug ricocheted off the transparisteel viewport. All three crew members started scanning for the slugthrower that had dared to fire at their walker.

"Target. Front. Hovertank...um Tank, it's got treads, I think." Major Wells indicated an armored vehicle ahead that had camouflaged itself by backing into a store front and then covering itself in rubble. Dusel spotted the enemy vehicle at the same time as the gunner. Several Chinese troopers could be made out firing smaller slugthrowers at the stormtroopers following in his walker's wake.

"Identified." Malm went through the blasting sequence once again.

"Fire." Wells commanded, already searching for the next targets.

"On the way." Two more bolts sliced through the earthlings' tank as if it was bantha butter, the superheated tibanna frying the crew as if they were standing next to an erupting supernova. Several nearby enemy troopers fell as the tank exploded in a shrapnel-flinging fireball.

Major Wells announced that he spotted three more aboriginal tanks retreating towards an alleyway. Before he could order Dusel and Malm into action a pair of AT-STs ripped the small armored column to shreds. Just more earthling troopers paying the price for resisting the Empire.

They spent the next few minutes leveling a series of commercial blocks with the rest of the armored platoon. Flaming enemy troopers and civilian beings collapsed in front of the approaching Imperial Army. Hundreds of buildings were obliterated and thrown about as if they were the playthings of an angry youngling. The flames of hundreds of fires added smoke to the cloud of dust that threatened to choke the battlefield. Dusel watched through thermal sights as stormtroopers escorted thousands of
surrendering and wounded Terran troopers to the rear. Many of the enemy wore rebreathers or had strips of cloth wrapped across their faces. Covered in ash and dust they looked the same color as their captors.

Dusel cringed as he brought the AT-AT to a wide street covered in chinese corpses. He wasn't sure if they were dead civilians or troopers that had been caught in some unknown, earlier Imperial attack. Major Wells acted as if he hadn't noticed the carpet of enemy dead and ordered him forward. Dusel fought to keep the contents of his stomach down as he obeyed. He thunderous footfall crushing bodies into the cheap duracrete pavement.

When a multi-storied apartment complex collapsed in front them, revealing the flowing waters of the Haungpu. The iron superstructures of several collapsed bridges could be seen protruding from the swirling water like the broken bones of ancient rancors. The other side of the river was a hell of exploding blue and green impacts from Imperial artillery firing from the landing zones. Hundreds of near naked, panicked beings swam for the distant shore. Several forward-operating AT-RTs raked the swimmers with their cannons from the concealment of the choking dust cloud. It felt like murder. It was murder. How had a farmboy from Chandrila ended aiding a massacre?

"Hold here, Driver. Let's give the rest of the legion a chance to catch up." Major Wells sat down in the command chair behind Malm. "How are you boys liking your first taste of battle?"

Dusel, still scanning for targets across the river, felt the adrenaline burn through his veins. He watched as more waves of TIE/sa bombers punished Chinese positions further inland across the river. He suddenly realized this is what being a trooper truly meant.

"I could get used to it." He lied.

SSN-784 North Dakota, Canadian Basin, Beaufort Sea, Arctic Ocean

"Captain, Sonar reports surface contacts." The Chief of the Boat reported.

The senior officer of the Virginia-class submarine looked up from where he and his executive officer had been trying to piece together garbled communications from the fighting thousands of miles to the south of them. "Keep us on silent running. XO, you have the comm. I'm heading over to sonar."

"Aye Aye, Sir."

The Captain moved quickly into the compartment next to his bridge. As far as he knew this vessel was one of the last of her kind after her sisters had been largely annihilated in the alien attack on his country's nuclear arsenal a little over a month ago. The North Dakota had survived by going deep and keeping almost twenty meters of ice on top of them. Ever since that attack his sailors had done everything imaginable to reduce the nuclear signature of his boat's reactor and the ten MIRV nuclear missiles he had onboard. He had no idea if or when they would be able to surface and see the light of day again.

He reached the sonar compartment, "Chief Sanchez, what do we got? Another polar bear?"
The CPO turned to his Captain. The enlisted man's face looked as if he had seen a ghost. Several of his sailors manned the sonar equipment around them with matching looks of concern upon their faces in the red-lit compartment. "I don't think so, Sir. Not unless the bears have learned how to dig with heavy machinery."

"What do you mean?"

"We heard a loud thud about ten minutes ago. At first we thought that it could have just been some loose icebergs slamming into each other but it was quickly followed by heavy footfalls on the ice. Like you said, we weren't sure if it was a bear, a seal, or even a lost Eskimo."
"Go on." The Captain knew there shouldn't be anyone out this far on the ice this time of year, and to

the best of his knowledge the boat hadn't been ordered to meet anyone.

"Well, it got wonky after that. Lots of scraping and a boring noise, all accompanied by what sounded like a large crab or lobster walking about, or at least several people."

"Captain, the digging noises have ended. We're just picking up ice noises now." One of the sailors reported.

The Captain went to the hatchway to the bridge, "Helm, take us down ten degree down bubble. Full speed." He felt himself start to lean as the North Dakota dove for her minimum crush depth.

450 meters above, Arctic Polar Ice Cap surface

The young Imperial Army Engineer looked up from her Sonar Mapper as two nearby snowtroopers assisted the extraction of the KM1 mining droid from the column it had bored straight through the ice and into the frigid ocean below. Twenty meters of solid ice hadn't proved a challenge to the eight-legged droid, which was more accustomed to boring through much tougher rock and ore.

By the Emperor, it was cold here, she thought as she shivered inside her climate-controlled armor. She was thankful for the snowtrooper gear she had drawn for this mission. Only a year ago she had finished school and had enlisted on Mars, which was cold enough, but this place could freeze a Tauntaun.

She looked into the hole the droid had dug as pressure from below slowly filled it with salt water, then looked back at her sonar mapper emplaced on top of the ice. She checked and rechecked the movement of the target below. Two other snowtroopers stood guard over their nearby CK-6 Freeco swoops. Next to her equipment was the last member of their mission, curled up into a ball and downloading tracking data on their submersed enemy. An enemy that was suddenly cavitating rapidly.
She watched as its depth increased; evidently it had detected them. Not that it would do them much good, she thought with a smile. She pushed an activation button on her chest control pad and the last member of their team rolled forward into the watery hole and quickly disappeared in the depths.

Bridge, North Dakota

"Captain, we've got a single splash." The XO calmly shouted from the Sonar station.

"Depth charge?" The Captain asked.

"No, Sir."

"We're picking up cavitations." A sonarman reported.

"Flank speed. Launch counter-measures. Helm, take us to the Never Go Below depth, and bring us to starboard. Let's see if we can out-maneuver this thing."

"Sir, the weapon is tracking. Impact estimated in seventy seconds." The XO notified him. A digital clock above Navigation started counting down the time to estimated impact. The Captain swallowed hard as he began to sweat in the air-conditioned environment.

300 meters aft of the North Dakota

The droideka remained in its ball shape as it approached its target. Water pump-jet propulsion units attached to its flanks let it close the distance with the Earth submersible with every passing second.
Electronic counter-measures radiated outwards from the boat but the droid ignored them, its non-visual composite radiation sensors attracted to nothing but its target ahead. It had the enemy vessel in its sights now and had already stopped relying on targeting information from the engineer's sonar mapper.
One of the last Seperatist's weapons left over from the Clone Wars, it had been scheduled to undergo dismantlement for research into a new line of security droids when someone in Tarkin's Fist had noted its particular usefulness in tracking down any underwater targets they had missed in their earlier attacks on the Earth's nuclear stockpiles. And so one lone survivor of a lost Seperatist cause dove the final fifty yards onto its target's hull.

It rolled to a stop, coming to an upright stance, its bronzium-armored legs sticking to the craft's hull. Its shield generator came to life as it extended its twin blaster cannons.

Bridge, North Dakota

"Ten seconds to impact!" The XO announced with growing alarm in his voice. "Five seconds!"
The Captain had tried every move he had been taught at Anapolis, and even some they didn't teach, but to no avail. The enemy weapon had continued to close on his boat. For a second he thought of his wife, of the lives of the young sailors around him. What had it all been for?

The count-down came to an end. "Captain, we've lost contact with the torpedo?" a small thud sounded from the hull.

"Was it a dud?" someone asked from the navigation.

"Captain, look at the aft photonic mast's feed." The Chief of the Boat directed him to the monitor showing the outside rear hull. Something was moving out there.

Aft Hull, North Dakota

The droideka moved like a crab along the surface of the hull, using reverse-repulserlifts to keep from being ripped from the side of the boat as the current threatened to pry it off.

The droideka raised its twin blasters at its chosen target. Its electronic AI sent the firing command and two blue bolts of superheated plasma vaporized the water they passed through before slamming into the boat's propeller.

Bridge, North Dakota

The boat gave a sudden lurch as propulsion came to a jerking stop. The Captain was still in shock from witnessing blue laser beams shoot from the robot on top of his submarine.

"Captain, we've lost all forward propulsion." The XO informed everyone within earshot.

Already the Captain could see the panicked expressions on his sailor's faces. He had no way to fight this thing; they were well below weapon launching depths. His only chance was to get some sailors out there with carbines and shotguns to fight this monster off.

"Push the dive planes all the way up. Blow our ballast tanks." His shouted orders got his sailors moving again. "Sonar, find us a thin spot in the ice. COB, prepare the boat for an emergency breach and impact. Weapons, get a team ready to repel boarders." That was an order he never expected to give.

Aft Hull, North Dakota

The droideka immediately noticed the change in pressure as the enemy vessel rose towards the surface. Its orders had been to follow the submersible into the depths below and confirm the kill.

Evidently, this earth boat played by a different set of rules. If it could adapt, so could the droideka. It spun around at its mid-torso and charged its blaster cannon once more. Once again blue plasma energy shot forth and impacted with the two massive dive planes on either side of the boat's tower. The twin blasts completely sheared off the port side dive plane, and heavily damaged the starboard.

The vessel continued to rise. The AI in the droideka only knew of one way to put an end to it. Its squat legs raced across the boat until it arrived at several circular hatches emitting low-level radiation. It pointed its blasters straight down at the deck. The twin blaster cannons fired again, and for one last Seperatist droid, the Clone Wars were finally over.

300 meters above, Arctic Polar Ice Cap

"Hey guys, the sonar mapper is picking up the boat is blowing its ballast tanks. I think they're trying to rise." The youthful technician excitedly informed the four snowtroopers. The Corporal in charge of their small detachment came over and looked at the equipment.

"Didn't the droideka sink it?" he asked.

"I'm still picking up the sound of blaster fire but the boat has definitely stopped cavitating." She told him as she concentrated on listening into the sonar mapper's headphones.

"Can they break through the ice?" The Snowtrooper NCO asked.

Before she could try to answer his question, her knees buckled. The ice cap felt as if it had suddenly been lifted up and then slammed down again. She put her arms out to protect her face as she fell forward, the sonar mapper falling over next to her.

She tried to stand again but the ice was shifting beneath her feet. The snowtroopers around her were trying to regain their balance as well.

"The ice is breaking up." One of them shouted the obvious. Someone else screamed, "Get to the swoops."

It was too late. The ice tore away right in front of them, swallowing the two snowtroopers guarding their vehicles. Fear took over as she was suddenly pitched to her right. The ice she was on angled steeply into the air and she was sent tumbling into a chasm that had suddenly opened up beneath her. "By the Emperor," she mutted. The teenage engineer was too petrified that she was going to hit the water underneath and freeze to death to utter another sound. But the two massive ice walls slammed back together before she made impact, saving her from her last worry.

Southern bank Qiantang River, Xiaoshan, People's Republic of China, Earth

Colonel Loi Cas of the People's Liberation Army sat on the front slope of his command tank watching engineers and sappers from a pioneer battalion try to span the river below with pontoon bridges. On the northern side, towards Shanghai, the city of Hangzhou burned furiously. The ancient city had been part of the alien bombardment's attempt to cut off Shanghai from the rest of the People's Republic, and so for the past twelve hours a murderous rain of green energy had slammed down in a ring around the metropolis.

Cas had awakened with the early morning bombardment in the city of Ningbo to the southeast. Within a few hours it had become evident that the Imperial aliens were destroying whatever cities they could find, but that Shanghai was being saved for something different. The generals in charge of the Nanjing Military District had ordered his Armored Regiment into the city.

It had been a long trip. The roads and highways had been clogged full of refugees fleeing south, and precision blasts from space had dropped every bridge and overpass leading into Shanghai. The over-sized, multi-purpose trucks hauling his tanks had to move aside several times for the tidal wave of humanity, even the Guoanbu, the State Security troops, couldn't hold them all back. He had ordered his thirty-seven tanks off-loaded and they had slowly started to grind forward. He had personally fired his tank commander's machine gun several times into the air to clear the road when the swarm had become too thick.

His column had become stretched out and intermingled with hundreds of other army units moving towards Shanghai, which was currently obscured by the massive walls of smoke and flames in front of them. Whenever he turned off his tank to let his column form up again, thunder rolled in from the north, caused by the thousands of explosions ringing Shanghai.

Communication was almost nil amongst the units moving to the front. The aliens jammed everything from radar to radios and their orbital bombardment had cut almost every landline into the city. Army couriers raced through the crowds on confiscated Harley Davidsons and Kawasaki Ninjas. Fortunately the presence of so many soldiers in the area discouraged any refugee from jumping one of the messengers and stealing their bikes.

The biggest natural obstacle to getting to the city had been the Qiantang River. The so-called 'Imperials' had dropped every span of bridge into its swirling waters early in their attack and pioneer units had had just as much trouble as everyone else in getting to where they were needed. Cas had waited for four hours for the engineering unit, currently pontooning the river in front of his, to arrive. Infantry units had confiscated almost every boat on the river and some patriotic boat captains had stayed and ferried the soldiers of China across. A nearby garbage scowl now hauled trucks and other lighter military vehicles across the river. Thousands of soldiers crowded the banks and waited their turn to cross the river as they were joined by new arrivals every hour.
When he had first arrived at the Qiantang, Cas had cornered a messenger returning from the northern bank and asked him what the ground was like ahead.

"A nightmare," the frightened courier had reported, "Everything burns. Soldiers and civilians alike. The infantry keeps going forward but only a few of them are making it into the city. The streets are covered with corpses and there isn't a single building in the blast zone still standing. In some places the ground is like melted glass."

"How's Shanghai?" Cas had asked.

"I haven't been that far in but from what I've heard it's pretty much untouched." The courier had then hurried to the rear with his message, as the waiting Armor officer remained with his gathering Chinese tankers. More and more heavy units backed up along the highway behind him throughout the day.
He didn't get his first close up view of the aliens until mid-day, when thousands of their smaller fighter craft appeared over Shanghai in the distance. Soon two of the strange craft were streaking over the river at an amazing speed. His anti-aircraft vehicles opened up on them. Too late, the alien fighters were already gone, slicing through a fleeing formation of five nearby Z-10 Attack Helicopters and sending four of them smashing to the earth in the blink of an eye. One of them crashed into the river near the pontoon bridge under construction.

The alien fighters circled the city in the distance as surviving Chinese planes retreated in every direction. Through the smoke he glanced out over the East China Sea. Thousands of tiny craft filled the horizon as the first waves of enemy soldiers pounced upon the Chinese port city.

He picked up his Austrian-made binoculars and turned his attention to the slow progress of the engineers below. Across the river the bombardment downpour that had cut Shanghai off from its neighbors slowed to a drizzle. Whistles and flares shot up from up and down the banks of the Qiantang, as thousands of PLA soldiers took to boats for their journey across the river. The pontoon bridge, designed to support his heavy T-99G tanks, was only halfway across. The infantry would have to wait for armor support.

A battery of 155 howitzers unlimbered from their trucks down the avenue from his position. Due to the heat of the day the artillery crews were stripped to their waists as they served their guns. They quickly fired a pair of rounds each towards the city. The gunners moved with a sense of urgency and their limbers sped off as soon as the guns and crews were loaded. The whole block suddenly erupted from strange energy explosions just as the trucks turned a distant corner. The enemy counter-battery fire was extremely quick and accurate, Cas realized, as plasma energized shot rained down on the nearby street, tossing and exploding cars and confused civilian refugees like bowling pins.

The enemy counter-battery fire lasted less than a minute but its effects were immediately evident. The road on his flank was now almost unusable to all but tracked vehicles, and buildings on both sides of the street slowly collapsed one after another. The commander of that artillery battery had been shrewd to get his men out of there as soon as he fired. Loi Cas made a mental note, to remember the enemy's efficiency when he met them in combat.

A motorbike messenger roared up to his tank and asked for Colonel Loi.

"That is me." Cas admitted he was who the courier was looking for.

"Your unit, Armor Brigade 3289, will be the first to cross the Qiantang at this particular crossing. Then you are ordered by General Ling to advance to holding positions on the west bank of the Haungpu, further north."

"Very well." Cas acknowledged the orders. He saluted the messenger before he turned back to the river to resume his watch of the pioneers working below. He was glad his orders were more specific than the ones he had first received earlier in the day when the Generals had just sent a short order for him to 'Defend Shanghai'.

He looked up to see hundreds of enemy fighters in control of the skies above them and then spit on the ground with disgust. He wondered if more Chinese pilots pulled ejector cords than pulled firing triggers. He winced when he spotted several WZ-10 attack helicopters moving through the thinning bombardment. He wished them luck; he figured they'd need it after the poor performance of their cousins in the jet fighters.

He looked over at his own gathering tank force and wondered if he shouldn't save some of that luck for himself. Equipped with older model Type 99KM armed with 155mm guns, these particular vehicles were almost thirty years old and designed to go toe to toe with western-style tanks. Not that he'd rather be in one of the newer Type 20s; too many bells and whistles in the newer model and not all of the gremlins had been worked out. No, the ones he served with now had worked well enough in Mongolia, Formosa, and Southeast Asia. His continued existence was proof enough of their abilities. His equipment aside, not knowing what the Imperial aliens would field against them was what worried him the most.

The pontoons edged towards the far bank. Further east down the river another bridge had already reached it and engineers signaled their completion with blue flares. Almost instantaneously an unending column of infantry started marching north across its span. Cas climbed onto the turret of his tank and crawled into the tank commander's hatch. Using arm signals he gave the start engine command to the tankers in his Brigade. His liquid-cooled, turbocharged, 1800 horsepower diesel chugged to life beneath him. He raised his binoculars and scanned for the flares announcing the completion of his designated bridge.

Upriver from his position he noticed a lumbering WS-2 Weishi rocket unit setting up its launchers. Without radar or GPS guidance the artillery unit evidently intended to fire their weapons unguided into the city. Well, it would kill somebody, Loi Cas figured.

"Hand me the signal flags." He asked his loader who was standing in the hatch next to his. The young private first class bent down into the tank and immediately returned with the two flags. Ever since the arrival of the enemy fleet in their solar system the year before, radio gear had increasingly become infrequent and undependable. To sidestep these inconsistencies the PLA had emphasized training in non-electrical communications, of the sort their ancestors would have used on battlefields of centuries past. For the mechanized units operating on a high speed, smoke-filled environment, flags had been chosen, since they could still be seen with thermal and night vision imaging.

The armor officer held his flags out and signaled to the heavy rocket artillery unit, warning them of the enemy's effective counter-battery fire. An enlisted man in the rocket unit signaled back that they were aware of it. The man stopped signaling and went back to his rockets without so much as a thank you. A moment later six 400mm rockets roared off their launcher heading towards Shanghai. Cas raised his binoculars and tried to follow their rapid movement. They were difficult to track, as there were already many explosions in the skies above the city, but he was pretty sure he recognized the instant the rockets died. Red colored 'lasers' arose from the Pudong District and sliced open the projectiles with an explosive, mid-air result. Effective anti-aircraft or anti-rocket units amongst the enemy forces, he figured.

He turned to watch the rockets load up into their trucks, but was amazed to see instead that they were in the process of loading another salvo into their launcher. He started waving the signal flags frantically, trying to warn them to get out of the area. The artillerymen ignored him. It was the last thing they ever did. More of the highly explosive plasma energy slammed down on the hapless rocket crews, impacting the munitions inside their rockets. The resulting explosion shredded a reconnaissance unit and dozens of infantry that had been closer to the rockets and sent one of the launchers high into the air. It finally crashed onto the far bank of the river.

"Fools." Cas spat out. Several hundred Chinese soldiers were now lost due to their arrogance. At least it taught him these aliens were not to be underestimated. Cas hoped other Chinese soldiers were learning that lesson as well.

Then it happened; a blue signal flare rose from the far bank. "Driver, move out." he ordered through the throat mikes attached to the tank's internal commo. He signaled the rest of the column with his laser communication system to follow him across the bridge. His loader emphasized the orders with the signal flags from the loader hatch.

His driver edged the hull of the fifty-eight ton vehicle onto the pontoons. Cas held his breath for a second and said a silent prayer to his ancestors for the pontoons to hold. The bridge dipped and swayed under the weight of the tank, but she held. He ordered the driver to go slow while crossing but to gun the engine when they got to the far side. The tanker did just that. The Type 99 made the far slope and Cas turned in the commander hatch to watch the rest of his tanks crossing one at a time across the makeshift bridge.

They crossed into the blast zone. The smoke was so thick that he ordered his crew to don their protective gas masks. His gunner and driver both switched to their thermal imaging systems, while he and his loader stayed upright in their hatch to scan for the enemy.

The landscape that met their eyes was like something out of a disaster movie. Not a single building remained standing. For several long stretches the ground was nothing more than steaming, molten glass. On street corners military police waved them onwards past piles of burnt corpses. Loi Cas wished the gas masks kept out the odor that filled his nostrils. Thousands of walking wounded, bandaged soldiers, and bloodied civilian alike stumbled along the edges of the road, traveling in the opposite direction of his column. Every minute or so a green laser bolt would reach down from space and slam into a nearby block and everyone would duck as debris rained down haphazardly. These casualties had only been veterans for a few hours and they had already been used up and rendered numb from the devastation around them. Cas wondered what one of those space-based lasers would do if it impacted his tank and then decided it was better not to think about it.

The refugees shouted to him through the smoke. "They have dragons."

"They are robot soldiers."

"If you shoot one he just gets up again."

"Shanghai is gone. All the buildings have collapsed."

Through breaks in the choking smoke he could barely recognize the famous Pudong skyline of Shanghai. His column of tanks crawled north through the wreckage of Hangzhou until they eventually reached the city of Jaixing, a suburb of Shanghai. The neighborhoods and streets were clear of debris. The alien starcraft had never targeted this close to the city. Unfortunately their land-based artillery had no such restraints and was tearing up dozens of formations of PLA soldiers moving forward. Here and there, quick moving Chinese artillery fire poured high-explosive shells at the distant enemy positions before limbering up and moving on before counter battery came roaring in. Loi Cas made sure to give a wide berth to any batteries of guns he saw.

The sun was already low in the western sky when he saw his first enemy. The military police were busy directing him into a defensive position along the west bank of the Haungpu. He ordered his tank into a hastily built prepared position as a soldier driving a civilian bulldozer dug out several more for his company's tanks. One of the tank crews on his right of his position fired an armor-piercing sabot round across the river. The cannon's roar snapped his head in that direction.

On the far bank stood two bipedal alien machines; that looked like skinny boxes on legs. The sabot glanced off one of the machines and continued on into Shanghai. The machine's head spun around in the direction of its attacker. Cas noticed the chin mounted gun too late to shout a warning to the endangered main battle tank. Blasts of red light shot across the river. Three rounds caught his sister tank in the turret an instant before three explosions ripped her apart from the inside. The alien fire had gone through her armor plates like hot steel through butter.

The two alien vehicles charged into the swirling water of the river, walking laser fire into his tanks as they took up their positions . Three more of his crews were killed as their tanks erupted. He ordered his own tank's crew to pour fire onto the attackers. The concentrated fire failed to penetrate the quick-moving enemy walkers but it must have shaken their crews up pretty well. Mid-river the walkers turned away from his position and ran towards the Longwulu Overpass Bridge, firing unaimed shots from their 'ear' cannons back towards his position. Several unlucky rounds chewed up the infantry taking up positions alongside his tanks.

The Longwulu Bridge was choked full of motor vehicles filled with civilians as well as hundreds of refugees on foot. The two strange alien vehicles splashed toward the crossing at full speed. Suddenly several explosions erupted at the base of the bridge's support towers, dropping several spans into the river. Screams could be heard up and down the riverfront as civilians and vehicles alike poured into the river from the crumbling bridge's roadway.

The two alien walkers stopped for a second then turned and raced back to the far bank, disappearing back into the city. One of them was clearly trailing smoke out of slits in its 'face' as well as moving with an awkward limp. Cas watched for several anxious moments before a metal popping sound came from one of the machine's legs. The alien vehicle toppled over into the river. It floated on the surface of the river for a few seconds as water slowly poured through the open view-slits in its 'face'. Cas squinted to see through the smoke of the battle and noticed two gray figures inside the machine frantically trying to release an escape hatch on the roof of the small walker. The machine slipped beneath the river's current as they struggled. No one came to the surface after that.

A few infantrymen alongside Cas's tank clapped but most of them frantically started to dig in to protect their bank of the Haungpu. The screams of dozens of refugees still clinging to the remains of the shattered bridge or being swept down river drowned out whatever celebration rose from his side.

"Colonel, those aliens didn't drop that bridge. That had to be our engineers." His gunner angrily announced over the comm.

"It couldn't be allowed to fall into enemy hands. Things would be a lot worse if they break out of the Pudong District."

"But, what about all those civilians...?"

"Keep scanning for targets, Gunner." Cas snapped, thankful his gas mask hid his own expression of hatred for those countrymen who had just murdered several hundred of their own people and trapped thousands more on the enemy-held side of the river. He scanned the wreckage of four of his own tanks and dozens of dead infantry around his position and realized that he still had plenty of hate left for the aliens as well.

[Kalanidavidg]

Oil Rig Gina, Santa Barbara Channel, Northwest of Target East

The seatrooper Lieutenant function-checked his blaster-speargun hybrid for the hundredth time since they had dropped out of orbit. He glanced one last time at the Aquatic Assault Troopers of his platoon as they sat huddled in the darkened interior of the AT-AT swimmer. The troopers were quiet and anxious as they contemplated the mission ahead of them. Only a few moments ago they had all been shaken by the impact of the massive aquatic vehicle on the ocean. And now as the immense fusion engine drove them forward through a choppy sea the movement lulled them back into silent meditation on the upcoming assault.

The crew chief of the swimmer signaled the go ahead and the Lieutenant climbed up one of several ladders inside the hull. He unlatched a hatch above him and was greeted by a bright moon overhead in the evening sky. He crawled out onto the back of the rapidly advancing swimmer and visualized the target ahead. The troopers of his platoon emerged from the hatch behind him to join him atop the cruising swimmer. The sea spray tried to blind his lenses as the swimmer cruised through the ocean at a little over twenty-five knots.

Here on the extreme northern flank of the invasion aimed at Target East, TIE boats raced ahead of the Aquatic Terrain Armored Transports as the swimmers deployed amphibions to carry the seatroopers closer to their goal. The Lieutenant jumped inside one of the armored boats with another fifteen of his troops. A bosun's mate propelled the assault craft forward, quickly putting space between itself and the AT-AT swimmer, which was to stay to the rear for heavy fire support duties. Scout troopers raced ahead on their one-man waveskimmers.

The only fire they received was small arm slugthrower fire from the tower ahead; most of the enemy forces had already been driven from the area or were busy dealing with the massive invasion currently landing to their south. According to the platoon's hyperwave radioman the transports of the invasion force were still receiving heavy anti-airspeeder fire from the target, a massive petrol mining facility named Gina.

Their amphibion was the first to reach one of the four pylons supporting the rig above the ocean. Two earthlings leaned over the railing above and poured slugs down at them. One of his troopers was hit in the chest armor and flung overboard; his comrades grabbed him and quickly pulled him back aboard. The trooper appeared shaken but otherwise alright as sharpshooters went to work dispatching the two antagonists above.

His two Quarren seatroopers, distinguished by their misshapen helmets, manned a fibercord grappling hook launcher from the bow of the boat. A whip-like noise sounded out as they fired the hooks into the railings above. His point-man was a Nautolan private-first class who scrambled up the fibercord like a kavorkian lizard monkey, his plastoid-wrapped tendrils swaying back and forth out the rear of his helmet as he climbed.

The Lieutenant was the second trooper over the railing. He joined the point-man in laying down covering fire for the rest of the squad as they climbed onto deck behind them. Five Terrans were busy serving a massive slugthower cannon pointed high into the sky as more of them returned small-arms fire from whatever cover they could find. The lieutenant watched in horror as the gun-crew slowly lowered the large calibre slugthrower in their direction. He glanced over at the Nautolan trooper and hand-signalled a short order.

Both of them pulled the pins on their thermal detonators and charged from their cover, launching the explosives ahead of them. A slug bounced hard off of his armor as they surged forward, the blasts from their blaster spear-gun hybrids slicing through the defensive cover of the abos. A few heartbeats later a stabbing throb shot from his shoulder indicating a possible broken collarbone. He bit his lip to fight off the on rush of pain.

Just as the slugthrower finally leveled in their direction the two thermal detonators exploded, decimating the slugthrower's crew and tipping the gun over onto its side, its barrel bent in an unnatural shape. The Lieutenant ducked behind refining machinery just as the Nautolan seatrooper pinned an earthling to a wall with an energized spear. The earthling's blood splashed across the faux-durasteel deck.

Seeing their anti-airspeeder slugthrower knocked out removed a lot of the fight left in the Terrans. One by one they threw their own weapons away and came out from behind their defensive cover. The prisoners kept their hands high as the seatroopers forced them to their knees and slapped a pair of stun cuffs on each of them. Several of the aquatic assault troopers rifled through the prisoners' gear for whatever plunder and souvenirs they could find.

Imperial Martian Army engineers boarded the rig and started placing detonation charges at key junctures on the facility as the seatroopers evacuated their prisoners to the waiting amphibions. The Lieutenant gingerly boarded the amphibion for the return trip to the AT-AT swimmer, minding his wound and glancing to the south to see thousands of airspeeders invading the smoky coast of Target East. Their contrails filled the starlit night sky as a bright moon lit up the shore to the east.

As they arrived at the swimmer several explosions tore through the rig behind him. He turned and watched as several other petrol rigs erupted on the horizon, sending flames and smoke into the sky while spewing their inky black oil onto the burning sea.

The Lieutenant smiled to himself despite his shoulder, pleased with the effortlessness with which his crew had completed their mission, and thankful this wasn't his planet that they were wrecking.

Ares Vallis, 12 Kilometers north of Culter City, Mars

Moff Kuantus Kuat of Kuat enjoyed the cool Martian breeze that blew in through the viewports of the massive Ubrikkian Luxury Sail Barge. The copper-colored repulsercraft gently sailed over the agri-combines that fed the approaching metropolis of Culter City. A Bith band's music drifted in from the upper deck of the massive repulsercraft. His host and the owner of this vessel, Moff Culter of the Anoat Sector, relaxed in a Kesslerite lounging chair across from Kuat's on the vessel's lower deck. Both Moffs were enjoying a glass of Chandrilan Blue '439. Their aides and entourages had found other duties to attend to on the upper deck while the two Moffs held their private discussion.

"I don't know why you'd like to warm Mars anymore my friend. On evenings such as this it can be quite pleasant." Kuat remarked. The Kuati Moff was offhandedly studying impact reports from the ongoing bombardment of Earth on his personal datapad. Culter was glancing at reports on his own device as well. With so much work to be done Kuat wondered why he had taken up Culter's offer of a late evening dinner aboard his luxuriant vessel.
"I agree, Kuantus. But this is our high summer. The winters here are still too harsh temperature wise for livestock and year-round agriculture. But with fluorocarbon production coming to full capacity we will have temperatures more concurrent with Coruscant, Kuat, or even the nearby Earth, within six martian months." Culter reassured his guest as he poured himself a refill of the rare vintage.

"How are your manpower problems?" Kuat asked.

"Stressed almost to the breaking point. I've even had to recall my exploratory mining teams on the moons of Earth 6. I wanted to capture a comet or more ice from the moons around Earth 5 to get a proper ocean going on Mars." Culter's shoulders slumped. Kuat felt genuine sympathy for his fellow Moff. When Grand Moff Tarkin had sent them into the maw he had no idea the monumental task that awaited Tarkin's Fist at their final destination.

"Admiral Bacara has promised the delivery of the first prisoners inside of a week. That should alleviate some of the pressure." Kuat observed, though none of the expected Earth prisoners were slated to work in his orbiting driveyard. And thank the Emperor for that stroke of luck, he thought, because these Terrans were one of the most diseased species of near-humans he had ever come across.

"It will help some but my clone legion will still have to process and quarantine the Earthican prisoners before sending them here to Mars. Admiral Bacara has already set up a concentration base for that on their moon Luna. He has already launched the initial wave in Operation Piper in their Pacific Ocean."

"I must admit I've been lax; what makes for an acceptable Terran prisoner?"

"Intelligence isn't necessary. Almost all prisoners will be shipped to mining bases and agri-combines far from Culter City, though many will be sent to that new hypermatter refinery being constructed on the other side of the planet. I assume that captured Earthican troopers and their general run of civilians should be perfect." Culter explained.

"What of the diseased?"

"An intense screening process is already in place. The Imperial...um wait they just changed their name...the Martian Medical Corps is helping out with that on the Earth's local moon. All Earth-borne disease carriers will be rejected, even those afflicted by the common fatal ones like cancer or heart disease will be sent back to Earth. I have orders directly from the Fleet Admiral that we're not to waste the resources on them. We're to reject he heavily wounded too, though I hear the Imperial, excuse me, the Martian Medical Corps has already filed a complaint on that point. They say it's in violation of their oaths or some other nonsense."

"Let the Terrans deal with their own problems, you're saying?" Kuat finished his second glass of wine.

"Exactly. Of course we'll be screening for pregnancy as well. These are highly desirable for 'Operation Stork' to kick off. Prisoners found in this condition will receive preferential treatment while in captivity." Culter spoke as if he had an unpleasant taste in his mouth. Kuat understood why, but what else were they to do if they were outnumbered eleven million to just over eight billion. Culter continued, "Have you heard about the population quota the Fleet Admiral has placed on all species?"

"Yes, they have to have at least a thousand members of their own species before they can enlist in the Stormtrooper Corps. Makes sense if they want to remain a viable species. Speaking of which, you keep better track of these things than I do, how are birth rates in Culter City?"

Culter laughed, "We seem to be having something of a baby boom lately. Human birth rates have remained steady but other species have skyrocketed. My own clone legion seems to have sired an entire Twilek or Zeltronian legion to replace them one day. We've also seen a surge in Kubaz, Whipid, Chadra-Fan, Rodian, Zabrak, Ithorian, well you name it and they've been breeding. Everything but Wookies and Hutts and that's only because we didn't bring any along with us. Live births have gone through the roof too, thanks to that surgery the earthling physician demonstrated for us. The man deserves his freedom for that, if nothing else."

"I've heard a special storm commando squad is abducting the man's wife in order to bring her here. I understand his children are already grown."

"That'll be a shock when those troopers crash through her front door. But I understand why he can't be allowed to return to Earth after everything he has seen."

Kuat grinned as the image took shape in his mind. The woman would be terrified out of her skull when armored stormtroopers came crashing through her doorway. Thinking of armor naturally turned his mind to some of his own projects. "The armor the troopers have been wearing is proving its weight in gold. My aides have informed me that there have been minimal casualties in the first waves at both target cities."

"You are too modest my friend," Culter prodded him, "I have heard that casualties on our side are well below even the most optimistic minimal casualty estimates. With the second and third waves due to arrive in both cities over the next day the Earthlings with be drowned in a sea of white armor."

"Green actually. Or gray-black depending on the individual trooper. Smart move by the Fleet Admiral to let the troops use Clone War era camouflage again." Kuat had felt the stress of the build-up to war, and was enjoying his talk with his fellow Moff, considering Culter was the closest thing he had to a peer in the Sol System. His terraforming friend had done such a wonderful job with tonight's seasonal climate that it would be a shame to waste it. "Do you mind if we get some air? Perhaps take our drinks up onto the top deck."

"Of course. I could use a chance to stretch my legs as well." Culter agreed as both men gathered up their drinks. Kuat gathered up his traditional white and blue Kuati headdress and placed it upon his graying temples. At only half a meter it was one of his shorter hats. A pair of armored bodyguards stood at the foot of the staircase that led to the deck above.

As they ascended to the uppermost deck the Moffs were greeted by the sight of the local sun Sol disappearing below the horizon. Overhead bright orange and red sails propelled the repulsercraft over the Martian landscape. Their aides bowed as they came up on deck and a steward came forth to refresh their glasses. To the south fireworks and laser lights erupted and flashed over the Martian capitol.

"Things must be going well against the Earthicans?" Culter wondered.

"It's still a little early for anything to be known, I would think. Only the first wave of troops has landed the last time I checked. The ones at Target East had to land in the dark even."

"Excuse my interuption, my Kuat of Kuat," His aide Niobe approached and bowed to both of the Imperial Governors, "I'm to inform you that commandos on Earth have succeeded in rescuing the Chief Ambassador."

"So 'Princess' Phasma is alive. That is quite a surprise considering the barbarity of these Earth-style near-humans." Kuat was more than a little pleased that the charming youngling officer was still amongst the living.

"She is undergoing debriefing by Fleet Intelligence but the Quill is returning to Mars sometime late tonight with both members of the Yos family onboard. The Fleet Admiral has suspended the bombardment of Earth's cities except for the immediate areas around the two target zones, until tomorrow." Niobe informed the both of them. "I spoke with Admiral Hadrian aboard your flagship the Kuat's Might. He has been ordered to refill their tibanna stocks from the Carbon and then they are to continue their bombardment against infrastructure and military targets sometime tomorrow morning."

"This could be a lucrative time to ask the Fleet Admiral of any profitable requests either of us may have." Culter suggested. Kuat couldn't agree more. However, the Fleet Admiral usually saw the wisdom behind, and gave into, any petitions he brought to him. Ever since the Ploo Moff had underhandedly stolen some of his best Bacta researchers away from him last year, the only things Kuat wanted were usually aimed at hindering the ambitions of the disgraceful Moff Seco, but it was probably forces under the nefarious Ploo Moff's command that had rescued the daughter of their Fleet Admiral.

"By the unplanned celebration in Culter City I would guess the HoloNews has already reported on Phasma's rescue."

"You could be right, Uredo," He used his fellow Moff's given name, "and what, may I ask, would you ask of our esteemed not-yet Martian Emperor?"

"I would strive for terraforming efforts near Earth 5 at the moment and maybe then the long term scouting mission to place a hyperspace beacon inside our closest neighboring star system could kick off a few weeks sooner. It would bring more planets under our domain that much quicker. We could do it, too. On sublight engines it would take a few years but by then, with new slave-labor, we could bring hypermatter production online. The first colony ship is almost ready for the mission to Earth 2. Plus one or two things I may have 'hidden up my sleeve' as the Sabbac players say."

Kuat wondered what the Anoat Moff was hiding. Besides knowing everything there was to know about terraforming there wasn't much to the forgetable Moff Culter. Did his colleague already have terraformers working on Earth 5 or 6, had he found a new source of tibanna, or did he possess a Star Destroyer full of hypermatter or an army of cloned workers secreted away in some clandestine corner of Mars? Maybe while everyone else was forgetting about Moff Culter Kuat would be wise to pay a little more attention to the workings of his friend. As the saying went 'You attract more Doppleflies with honeyblossems than Bantha manure'.

"Excellent, as do I." Kuat winked, "With skilled labor for my dockyards being freed up by your ingenious idea of utilizing Terran slaves here on Mars the new line of star destroyers we are designing could be at the vanguard of our conquest of this galaxy over the course of the next century. If only I knew where to hire even more Imperial workers?" Kuat baited.

"I...um wish I knew. I really do." The Anoat Muff was anything but convincing. Yes Kuat decided, Culter was certainly hiding something up his sleeve. Clones; if Kuat had to make a guess.

"What about the present? Anything that's been vexing you at the present?" Culter steered the conversation away from its present course while he led the two of them to a railing where they placed their empty glasses. A serving droid quickly replaced both empty flutes with new ones. Kuat smiled at the rushing Martian ground as the red soil whizzed by. He had been doing business for a long time and knew when not to push a skittish buyer too hard.

"We're looking into designing a new turret system designed for orbital bombardment. The current turbolasers on the star destroyers are much too powerful for the job. On usual settings the things fire at a power level of 200 gigatons, which is enough to crack the crust on most planets. As it is we're firing on minimal levels during our current bombardment. It's nerve-wracking work for the crews. I'm thinking we need some type of designated bombardment barge-craft or perhaps a newly designed updated Torpedo Sphere. It's a project that's still on the drawing boards." Kuat sighed. There simply wasn't enough time in the day to get everything done.

"Then of course there are the two Alderaanian shield arrays that had to be designed and built for the invasion. That was a rush job but I'm proud to say we didn't have to cut any corners in their production. How about yourself?"

"Ah, to clone or not to clone, that is the question." Kuat made a strange face at the odd quote. Culter chuckled, "Sorry, a reference to an Earthican author I stumbled across in my research with their primitive HoloNet."

"I see." Kuat was amazed the Terrans could write, let alone create poetry or philosophy.

"When we first landed on Mars our being-power problems were quite evident. Several companies approached us about cloning multiple alien species into a viable labor force. As you can imagine, with high command made up of officers that still bear the scars of the Clone War, this was an unpopular choice."

"I can imagine. Plus the technological resources diverted to such a project would far outweigh its gains." Kuat observed. "You would need a workforce at least as big as a stormtrooper legion just to produce the amount of clones we need, and another legion of workers to train them over the course of the next decade at the very least."

"Precisely. Though there have been rumors that a few companies may have gotten further in their planning than others. No proof of any actual cloning so far, but a few tests were done. Cloning should be reserved for colonization efforts, not forming a slave labor force out of our own beings."

"Despicable." Kuat said without much conviction as he took a slow sip of his wine and nonchalantly watched the firework display. Not that he truly cared about cloning one way or another he just hoped Culter would further confide in him. "Thank the Emperor that we have a nice clean war to divert us from such dirty deeds."

Culter however didn't raise to the dianoga bait and Kuat noticed how his colleague tried to steer the conversation away from any juicy revelations. "Then I had to find a solution to the food surplus issue. At first our own galaxy's crops were thought to not be able to take in the Martian soil due to its high potassium content. So we put quite an effort into cloning Earth crops. But our own crops are going like podracers. We have Bristlemelons, Hubba Gourds, Podpoppers, Feen, Pika, you name it. The cloned earth crops aren't doing so well with our seasons. Strange thing is that our food doesn't seem to absorb any potassium from the soil but the Earthicans need it to survive, as we found out from those 'astronauts' we captured here on our arrival."

"So you're saying that you have to keep growing their inferior crops if you want to get any labor out of them? Hopefully 'Project Stork' will wean them off of their dependency some day." Kuat offered.

The sail barge turned as it cruised over the Yos River in the last part of its journey into the city, passing less than a meter over the gentle waterway. The large river was a quarter kilometer wide as it flowed through the center of Culter City. A cooling mist sprayed over the deck and nearby fireworks lit the sails above them.

"Believe me, my researchers are already looking into it. We think we made have already found the solution in Stork." Culter said. "Their livestock animals are just as bad. The earth's main animal for consumption is the cattle or cow; I'm not sure what the correct nomenclature is. This poor dumb beast eats five times more than a nerf and is roughly the same size. For every pig they have you can raise two banthas or a herd of eopies. That's almost fifty times the amount of meat." Culter tried his best not to sound incredulous but his best wasn't good enough.

Kuat did his best to appear to be watching his aides as they enjoyed the show above with several other courtiers nearby. They had entered Culter City and already thousands of revelers lined the banks of the urban center in their celebrations. Both Moffs waved from the railing at the beings who recognized the two Imperial Governors. A large, balloon-like airspeeder displayed live coverage of the Chief Ambassador on its flanks as it cruised through the fireworks. The beings cheered even louder and Kuat heard chants of, 'Princess Phasma, Princess Phasma' coming from the excited crowds.

"Things are certainly different in this galaxy." He smiled at Culter and raised his glass, "I fear our time as 'Imperial' Governors may be coming to a close."

"That's alright. Martian Moff has a nice ring to it." Culter joked. "I wonder why we're not getting any labor out of these beings." The Anoat Moff pointed to the revelers.

"We probably are, with salaries being as high as they are right now. We should at least give them a night to celebrate."

"As long as they're back on the factory floor tomorrow, right?" Culter was starting to show a little wear from the alcohol as he leaned on both elbows along the railing to watch party ashore. "We've got to win this war, you know," he pointed at the crowds of Martians along the riverbank, "For them."

"No, my friend, you don't understand. We've got to win this war," He pointed toward a distant green planet shining like a star in the night sky, "because it's either us or them."

Carbon, Imperial Navy Refining Vessel, Geosynchronous Orbit over Luna Moon

There's a long line at the pump, the Captain of the Carbon thought as he stared at the twenty Star Destroyers stretched out in front of his vessel. "Well, it certainly looks like our dance card is full." He remarked to his executive officer standing alongside him on the bridge.

"It certainly appears so, Sir." Both officers were watching a team of engineers maneuver high pressure vacuum hoses between their ship and Moff Seco's Flagship the Wilderness. The Moff's flagship had run her tibanna bunkers dry plastering cities on the main continental mass to rubble. A twelve hour, continuous low-powered bombardment had taxed the supplies of most of the turbolasers of the fleet. Now only the star destroyers around Target East and West remained to give support to the first waves of stormtroopers on the enemy world, and they were scheduled to return and fill up once they had been relieved by the warships lined up in front of the Carbon.

It was with no small amount of pride that the Captain knew he commanded the most valuable vessel in Tarkin's Fist. After the events of the 'big jump', her refining equipment had fed the big engines of the fleet and kept Tarkin's Fist alive. Now most of her heavy equipment had been transferred to the surface of Mars in anticipation of Earth slaves that would kick-start a much larger fuel-refining program that would rival even the Peragus Mining Facilty back in the Home Galaxy. Both Moff Culter and the Fleet Admiral had offered him part ownership in the facility and most of his crew had snatched up stock options from the new MarsCopolis Stock Exchange.

For the bombardment of Earth, however, the Carbon was nothing but a huge gas-hauling platform with enough tibanna to refit the fleet twice. "Or start a supernova..." the Captain muttered under his breath.

"Excuse me, Sir" The XO asked.

"Um, nothing, just thinking aloud. Are the other Captains saying anything about the Wilderness cutting in line?" Moff Seco had demanded that his flagship take on tibanna first, and then had caused a two hour delay while getting into place.

"If they are, they're keeping it to themselves. What can they really do, when it's the Theater Commander, and a Moff to boot, doing the cutting in."

The Captain did some quick calculations in his head and said "True enough, but he also pushed the support vessels for Operation Piper to the rear of the line. I doubt we'll get to them before the deadline for them to be on station passes."

"Yes, Sir, but those troopers, just as we do, come from Moff Culter's Anoat Sector Fleet." The executive officer hinted.

The Captain grimaced at the implication, "You think Seco might be out to bleed them a little? Clones aren't exactly replaceable, unlike Seco's stormtroopers."

"It's not like the esteemed Moff has any great love of clonetroopers. I wonder how their older equipment will fare in battle with the Terrans?"

"It's pretty old stuff. Most of it was left over from the Clone War but it should do fine against slugthrowers for the Emperor's sake. Plus their infantry has the new armor systems just like everybody else. Fleet Admiral Yos, unlike our Theater Commander, knows what he's doing."

Both men stared at their monitors as precious tibanna, mined from Earth 5, transferred to Seco's flagship. The Captain stared at the star destroyer's bridge next to his vessel, and imagined that the Ploo Moff was staring right at him and his XO, as if he had heard their speculative conversation. He shuddered.

"Let's get back to work. The faster we do our duty, the faster this miserable little war is won." Both men returned to their duties as tibanna flowed into the heavy blasters of the fleet.

Mokulele Highway 350, Maui, NAU, Earth

Things were not going according to plan. But then again, Marshal Commander Cody thought, how many plans actually survived contact with the enemy. At least that's how things had usually played out in the Clone War. As a Clone Marshal Commander he had been trained to deal with life's little 'setbacks'.

Cody was currently dealing with one of those 'setbacks' as he leaned against the side of his PX-4 Mobile Command Base parked on the shoulder of the local roadway. His stormtrooper bucket, painted in a tropical camouflage pattern, was tucked under his arm as he spoke to the blue HoloImage of Clone Admiral Bacara rising from the imager in his palm. The darkened roadway was lit by the full moon and thousands of stars above. If you knew where to look you could see the hundreds of support vessels of Tarkin's Fist in low orbit above, and Cody knew where to look.

His command staff stood on guard around his command track, somewhere outside the city of Kahului, watching several large hotels burn to the ground in the distance while they grinned and sampled the delicious local pineapple. Cody had tried the fruit himself and had decided that it might be the one good thing that had come from the invasion. He, too, stared unimpressed at the distant conflagration; he had known bigger during the Clone Wars.

It had taken half a legion an hour to conquer the small Earth town.

Throughout the night it had taken two Clone Legions almost two hours to secure every island in the Hawaiian chain except Oahu, but nobody was bragging about it. Cody knew why, too; there hadn't been any fight in the Earthlings. His gaze fell upon the three bound earthlings on their knees nearby. They appeared to be two police officers and a man in some type of camouflaged uniform that identified him as a member of some local militia known as the Hawaii National Guard.

CC-2224 stretched his legs a bit, as they had gotten cramped during the endless waiting and circling the invasion force had undergone while in low-orbit above. They never would have cramped up during the last war. But he reminded himself that he had aged twenty years in the past decade since the conclusion of the Clone Wars. He wasn't the newly decanted clone he once was.

This war wasn't the same as the Clone War. Not by a long shot. So far nothing he had seen amounted to the terror of facing hundreds of ranks of clankers bearing down on you. Compared to that, the invasion of Hawaii almost seemed like a. . . vacation.

His thoughts flashed back to the low-light interiors of the hundreds of MAAT/i that had carried his troopers into combat once again. The new landers were upgraded from the old workhorse of the Clone War; the LAAT/i. Through the pilot's viewports he had watched as had watched for hours as the Empire had punished the enemy with the demoralizing orbital bombardment. He hadn't been moved by all the death and destruction because he had seen it too many times before on a dozen other planets. He had watched on his MAAT/i's sub-space radar as the first waves of stormtroopers were launched at Targets East and West while daylight still warmed those opposite sides of the large ocean below, but it wasn't until darkness had fallen that Clone Admiral Bacara had finally received the go ahead for Operation Piper to commence.

They had dropped on their Pacific Ocean target like hunting hawkbats. With ARC-170s providing an overhead fighter cap, V-19 Torrents had led the way. The unlit island chain stood out against the moonlit ocean. On one of the central islands the city of Honolulu burned as a result of a short bombardment leveled on it earlier in the day. And within the fire burned most of the defensive capabilities of the Hawaiian State.

The squadrons of Torrents had engaged the dozen airspeeders that rose to oppose them. Cody couldn't see the air battle but had watched it on his MAAT/i's battle Holoprojecter; the dogfight was over in a matter of seconds. His Clone brothers had leaned their buckets out of the open doors of the MAAT/i, trying to pick out each of the dozen funeral pyres of the last of Hawaii's airspeeders. He smiled when he realized that every clone pilot in those escorting Torrents had remained in flight. Without commo or radar the enemy airspeeders had been easy pickings for them in the night.

The hundreds of MAAT/i and various shuttles had slowed while dozens of Torrents dove for the surrounding seas. The gunners aboard his own shuttle had taken careful aim at targets passing below their craft. As they had advanced on their target, the night was lit again as thousands of blaster bolts ripped into the ocean below. But they hadn't been firing blindly into the water itself. Earthican fishing trawlers, houseboats, cruise ships, cargo vessels, and even a few small naval destroyers that had been missed by the orbital bombardment had erupted into flame or were quickly punctured and sent to the bottom as the clone invasion force swept overhead. Thousands of sailors and fisherman had suddenly found themselves adrift after fleeing land that morning for the perceived safety of life at sea. Some saw the burning city of Honolulu and attempted to swim in that direction. Others had made the acquaintance of hungrier residents of Hawaii's coastal waters.

"Air and Seas are clear, Commander." Reported the clone manning the sub-space radar unit.

"Alert all Commands." Bacara's voice had cut across his 212th Attack Legion's operations channel. "Operation Piper Alpha is Jedi Sword. I repeat Jedi Sword. All Commanders verify."

Cody had instantly recognized the go-code for the mission; there was no turning back then. He had keyed the transmitter in his helmet with a flick of his eyelid at one of the icons in his bucket's HUD. "Cody is LightSaber, repeat Cody is Lightsaber." He responded. The code word had been chosen because no earthling should have ever heard of a lightsaber, let alone a Jedi. For Cody it just served as a reminder of his failure years ago on Utapau.

"Roger roger, good hunting, CC-2224." Bacara had answered.

He had nodded to the pilot of the MAAT/i as the clone shoved the flight-control stick forward, tilting the craft's nose downwards as it dove towards the target below: an island named Maui. Cody had switched his electrobinoculars to night-viewer mode and watched over the helmets of the flight crew as the formations of troop carriers split up and headed towards their objectives. The 212th banked their craft and headed to the south, away from the pyre that had once been called Honolulu.

Within moments the MAAT/i had dropped to two hundred meters off of the deck and was hurling itself at almost breakneck speed towards the lush island ahead. The smell of jungle and salt water permeated the craft as it dropped in altitude. Each clonetrooper in his command platoon had gone through their own last minute check or ritual to prepare themselves for the imminent combat that surely awaited them. Cody had quickly made sure his own DC-15S Blaster Carbine was locked and loaded before he signaled the 212th into the attack.

None of the mysterious slugthrower flak had risen to meet the first flights of Torrents and Alpha-3 Nimbus-class starfighters loaded with heavy proton bombs. His own MAAT/i had been just crossing the last breakers and passed over the beaches of Maui to the north of the city of Kahului when simultaneous guided-proton bomb attacks destroyed the tropical city's marina, police headquarters, telephone exchange, National Guard armory, and county courthouse. His own MAAT/i gunners had decimated the island's power station and radar and communication towers as the first of his troop carriers had touched down in the suburbs and farmlands surrounding the small city. The lights of the city flickered on and off before finally sputtering out and leaving the city bathed in moonlight.

Cody had moved to the open cargo bay door of his MAAT/i as it rushed over the streets of Kahului. He had stood and held onto the hand grip at the lip of the door. The warm tropical air rushed by and he noticed the local inhabitants pausing in the yards and roads below to stare up at his transport, cruising by just fifty meters overhead. The enemy non-combatants below had screamed and pointed at the hundreds of landing craft racing above them. A few of them had been smart enough to start running for the nearby countryside. The not so smart ones, well. . . He had frowned when his ears picked up the strange rapport of a single slugthrower over the whine of the MAAT/i's engines.

He had ordered his gunners to hold fire as they passed over the population center. A block to his port side a strange landspeeder with swirling lights disgorged two uniformed Earthlings, both of which immediately engaged a passing MAAT/c with small-caliber slugthrowers. The MAAT/c gunners had been instructed to fire in defense only over the city and one of the transport's door gunners had acted on those orders. His heavy E-WEB chewed up the pavement to the front of the landspeeder before impacting with its fuel tank. The resulting explosion shredded the two earthlings. The MAAT/c charged ahead towards the designated landing zone.

Cody's MAAT/i had lightly touched down in a sugar cane field outside of the town. He had been the first clone out the door, followed quickly by the troopers making up his headquarters section. Aides and junior officers rushed up and asked for confirmation of their orders. A secure perimeter was established within seconds by the first wave of veteran infantry.

Within three minutes of his own landing, MAAT/c had already unloaded two platoons of heavy AT-TE's which had then started their slow lumber towards the still awakening Kahului. Several companies of armored clonetroopers had followed in their wake.

A Forward Air Controller had guided a MAAT/c carrying his PX-4 Mobile Command Base right next to his position. His HQ section quickly boarded the tracked carrier and followed the attack into the city. Inside the vehicle, Cody had removed his bucket and watched the unfolding attack on the HoloMaps and hyperspace radio systems of the command vehicle. His own men were so well trained they hardly had had to ask him for confirmations of orders as they sent the troopers of the 212th into action.
Cody's troopers had pretty much had their own way with the city. Here and there the local police force tried to set up a roadblock or a handful of locals with slugthrower rifles had tried to hold a home or two as if they were bunkers. Cody had ordered Clone Blazetroopers and Flametroopers to reduce those targets. While ordinary clonetroopers had provided suppression fire, the flamethrower-armed clones had approached from the homes' flanks and spit their flaming liquid onto their targets. The screams of the burning defenders quickly diminished any remaining fight in the locals.

His AT-TEs had reached the beach twenty minutes after the attack had begun. His own troopers had reported only minor amounts of wounded clones in the attack, while the final tally had been just under thirty earthlings killed in the short engagement. Soon hundreds of earthlings had come into the streets with their hands held high. His clones had had to risk exposure and operational security in rounding them all up but there simply wasn't any fight left in these Earthlings. Several of them sneered at Cody as they were marched past his PX-4.

"Wait till you get to Oahu, that's where all our soldiers are!"

"If we had more guns you wouldn't have beat us!"

"You're going to get your butts kicked out of Upper California too!" They shouted and threatened, but Cody had heard even more of them whispering that they were just thankful to be alive. Cody had a hunch that war had never reached this part of their planet.

Clones went from house to house pulling out the hidden inhabitants and slapping binders on them before forcing them into the marching procession back to the landing zone, where Sentinel shuttles belonging to Operation Piper awaited them. In a few places the inhabitants still resisted but a blaster butt to the head usually encouraged them to cease any further resistance.

During the round-up several wounded and hurt Earthlings were been treated with minor first aid in a yard near his track. His orders had been specific on this matter. The wounded Earthlings would be bound so they couldn't do any damage while his troopers were here but they were to be left behind. The Empire didn't have the resources to care for wounded and damaged slaves. He had turned a blind eye to his few medics who chose to turn a blind eye to the Imperial order.

A battery of AT-APs had started firing long-range artillery at Pu'u Kukui, one of the nearby shield volcanoes. A jungle-camouflaged scout trooper had pulled up to his PX-4 on a BARC speederbike. "Marshal Cody, several thousand refugees are making for the mountains. Shall I order my men to pursue?" The clone officer had asked.

Cody had checked his chromo. The attack on the Piper Omega target was scheduled to go in at dawn. "No, Captain. Form a perimeter to guard against any probes or counter-attacks coming from those hills but we've already bagged almost thirty thousand prisoners from here and the other towns on the island. We've done what we came for. Get your troopers ready for action in the morning." The scout trooper captain had saluted and raced away on his speederbike.

Cody had gone back to checking on the status of the rest of the attack. His own 212th had simultaneously secured the smaller towns on Maui of Wailuka, Lahaina, Kula, Ha'iku, Hana, Kihei, and Kapalua. Within an hour mop-up operations in those towns had bagged several thousand prisoners who were now being forcibly marched or transported to the landing sites. The Hyperspace radio and comset of the PX-4 reported the capture of other Hawaiian towns. Lihue and Kailua had both fallen without a fight to Clone Commander Salvo's 32nd Air Combat Wing, but at Hilo on the big island to the southeast there was a large National Guard force that had been providing aide for refugees fleeing the attack on Honolulu earlier in the day. The fight had been bitter, and because of time constraints Clone Admiral Bacara had ordered the abandonment of the Hawaiian city. Marshal Gett's Sarlaac Legion had razed the city to the ground as they pulled out. Given another few hours the fight would have been theirs but Cody had known they had bigger fish to fry.

Each of their assaults had been staging attacks, either to set up assembly areas for the attack on Piper Omega or draw out counter-attacks in order to bleed the defenders of the NAU's Pacific Base. An earlier orbital bombardment had demolished Honolulu but another attack by three Acclamators was scheduled to commence at dawn. And then the three legions of Operation Piper would attack. Overwhelming technology and firepower on the part of the 212th would settle the issue and hopefully they would have their biggest catch right at the start of Piper.

Cody looked back at that optimistic thought from a few hours ago in growing frustration as he stood along the highway eating his pineapple. His mind was now thoroughly focused on the present. The last of the aboriginal prisoners were finally being loaded onto the remaining Sentinels in the field in front of his position. The sky was slowly turning gray and purple in the east.

CC-2224 silently contemplated his new dilemma. He was about to send his boys into Piper Omega with no orbital support. One after another the three designated star destroyers for Operation Piper: the Battle of Qalydon, the Pressure, and the Kuat's Storm had all reported that they wouldn't be on station on time. Evidently something had gone wrong at the Carbon refinery vessel and the three warships wouldn't be resupplied with their tibanna stocks in time.

Now the chromo was ticking down. Clone Admiral Bacara had advocated that the mission be delayed or scrubbed all together but the Theater Commander Moff Seco had insisted that the attack go on as planned. With Fleet Admiral Yos on his way back to Mars with his newly rescued daughter there wasn't anyone to overrule his orders. And if there was one thing clonetroopers were good at it was following orders, Cody thought with a shudder as he remembered a hot day on Utapau over a decade ago when he had been ordered to shoot his general in the back.
At dawn the 212th Legion would attack.

"Commander!" one of his officers got his attention. "Another rocket attack from Oahu incoming. ETA is two minutes."

"Fierfek, another useless cruise missile?" He hoped. Already four so-called 'Tomahawk' Missiles had been launched from the vicinity of the as-yet-unoccupied, enemy-held island. Three of them had been jammed by his Electronic Signals Warfare and SIGINT troopers and had smashed violently into the seas around Maui. The fourth had been intercepted by a V-19 Torrent off the coast of Kahului, which had resulted in a huge fireball about an hour earlier.

"No Sir, MLRS again." The Sub-Space Radar man informed him. Cody placed his helmet back onto his head.

"E Chu Ta! Everyone in the ditch!" He pointed to the side of the roadway as the troopers of his headquarters flung themselves flat in the muddy ditch alongside the roadway. The driver and the crew of the PX-4 climbed out of their vehicle and quickly joined them. The only vehicles still moving were four AT-AA that lumbered into position to engage the incoming rocket attack.

The Earthlings had learned to strike back quickly. As far as Cody could tell they had about six of the rocket-laden vehicles moving rapidly around Oahu. Their first attacks started sometime after midnight using highly sophisticated guided munitions. His SIGINT and ESW troopers had no problem jamming them or even tracking them with their Anti-Airspeeder heavy turbolasers. So after several failed attacks the enemy tried a new trick. Using Shoot-n-Scoot tactics the Earthlings started launching dumb rockets blasted like a flachette launcher from island to island. With no electronic guidance for his Signal officers to jam it was up to the skills of his AA-troopers in their four legged AT-AAs to knock out the rockets.
Cody helped the last of his troopers move the three prisoners into the trench with them before the attack came in. Already two of his AT-AAs were throwing up a protective curtain of plasma. Not that it was anything more than bad luck for one of the rockets to hit the Marshall Commander. The enemy on Oahu had no idea where on Maui he and his troopers were located. With no guidance the incoming rockets were no more useful than area suppression weapons, though quite terrifying and effective if you were in the area they were suppressing. The burning hotel behind them testified to the effectiveness of an earlier attack.

From the landing zone, one of his last AV-7 artillery cannons returned counter-battery towards Oahu in the hope that it would catch the launcher lingering at its launch site. Cody knew that was a small hope after the regularity of the attacks throughout the dark hours of early morning. Several small explosions erupted in the night sky as lucky hits by his AA contacted with a few of the incoming rockets, followed by a popping sound as the surviving weapons broke apart to release their sub-munitions.

Cody breathed a sigh of relief when he realized their trajectory was aimed at an impact zone still within Kahului. Several blocks of empty homes and businesses erupted in massive explosions as a small shockwave rippled over the island. His troopers picked themselves up and brushed the mud off their armor before continuing with the loading process. Cody suddenly had an idea.

Calling his staff officers to him, they boarded the PX-4 and studied the HoloMap projector. Cody rapidly outlined his plan. "Get all the artie blasters we have and start hitting them right here." He pointed at the 3D image of Piper Omega. "And then at dawn we're going to hit them here." His finger moved slightly to the west.

Around him several clones nodded in agreement, while others were already issuing orders over their hyperspace radios to their commands. The landing zone became a flurry of activity as his orders were obeyed.

Cody stepped back outside the moblie command center just as several returning MAAT/c dropped off batteries of AV-7s, UT-ATs, and SPHA-Ms. Within ten minutes a designated area of Honolulu with the pretty name of Pearl Harbor was being plastered by Imperial munitions. SigInt troopers soon informed him that the defenders were moving their troopers into the area and digging in. The last of the 212th Attack Legion loaded up on their MAAT/i.

He watched as the three captives were led aboard the remaining Sentinel shuttle with the last prisoners his troopers had managed to capture. He hoped the base on the moon was ready to receive them all. Distant thuds and crashes rocked the island. Already delayed demolitions left by his men were erupting across Maui's infrastructure and power stations to further deny their use to any returning earthlings. Cody smiled at the destruction caused by his troopers.

The earthlings were never going to suspect a dawn attack on Honolulu.

[Kalanidavidg]

96,000 ft above Nevada, NAU, Edge of Imperial Occupied Space

The cockpit of the spyplane held enough controls to pilot one of the Orion space shuttles, leaving the two officers onboard little room to move. The crewmen had trained in secrecy for this one reconnaissance mission for almost the entirety of their careers in the Air Force. That intense training regimen allowed them to effortlessly monitor the hundreds of state-of-the-art and next generation instruments that controlled their aircraft.

At the moment they were at a cruising speed of Mach 4.3 heading for the spot where they would line up their run on their target. Northern Nevada and then Northern Upper California flashed by far below. At their altitude the curvature of the Earth cut a distinct line against the darkness of space. Both pilots tried to push aside thoughts that this might be the last time they ever saw it and concentrated on the mission ahead.

Their supersonic spyplane was the descendent of the old SR-71 Blackbirds and the ancient Lockheed U-2s that had been the backbone of the old United States Air Force's aerial recon squadrons. Combined with the technology of the black projects of the Aurora, BlackStar, and TR-3A Black Manta programs their aircraft was the most advanced piece of technology the Earth had ever put up into the air.
Pushed by twin engines that burned through gallons of liquid methane every few seconds the plane started its long banking curve to the south. That simple maneuver took another two hundred miles out of their flight plan.

The spycraft had been sent on its mission out of desperation from higher command. The aliens invading their world had destroyed every last one of Earth's satellites before launching their attack. The Air Forces of the NAU had been spread thin in an effort to defend the most vital regions of the continent. No one knew where an orbital enemy would come to ground, and the enemy fleet had made sure that the NAU would remain in the dark about the invasion with their superior jamming and electronic signal warfare.

When reports came in that it appeared the aliens were going to land in Los Angeles fighter squadrons in the area reported almost total loss of all their communication abilities. Radar and weapon guidance systems had been jammed out of existence. While they had been dealing with that thousands of alien fighters had fallen upon them, quickly clearing the skies around the alien landing zones.

Reports from the soldiers on the ground hadn't been much better. They had been horribly mauled while moving into the city. The army had barely begun to dig in when a devastating barrage of what was rumored to be mini-nukes had been dropped on the frontline formations moving into position in the beach communities of LA. After that, communications with the units involved in the ground battle had been sketchy at best. Predator IIIs and other UAV drones had casually been swatted from the skies by the enemy fighter cap over the city. Rumors of alien soldiers landing during the night and reports of a retreat filtered back to the generals outside of the battlezone. Now those generals needed answers if they were going to defend their planet. The two spyplane crewmen were going to attempt to give them some.

The pilot in his high-pressure space suit slowly turned his upper body to look to the north and activated side scanning radar on a diamond-shaped alien craft over San Francisco. He wondered if his systems, advanced as they were, would cut through the alien jamming.

The co-pilot had been monitoring the intelligence gathering equipment in relative silence, but something had changed"Signal interference is clearing." He said, sounding surprised.

"Odd." The pilot looked to his own monitors as the guidance computer and map-of the-earth systems suddenly burned through the alien signal-warfare. He had feared he would have to guide the slick craft through its target run by his own dead-reckoning. "Are they ignoring us?"

"No way! Ten bogeys on our tail coming up fast." The co-pilot reported. The pilot looked at the radar. Sure enough ten alien craft were lining up on his six and approaching at an unheard of speed. In no time flat they were on his tail. Yet they held their fire.

On their wing a white and red 'X' shaped craft suddenly appeared. The alien fighter had a pair of cannons mounted on the tips of its central wings and matched their speed with ease. The spyplane's pilot counted three alien crew aboard the Imperial fighter, including one that faced backwards like an old World War II tail gunner.

"I think they're looking us over." The pilot said.

"Getting strange readings off of something around their hull. If I didn't know any better I'd swear they had a forcefield around their spaceplane." The co-pilot said. Their own plane didn't mount a single weapon other than its cameras. A space battle with these 'X' fighters would have been short and decidedly non-sweet for the two NAU pilots.

"They're not firing because they know what we are. I think they want us to see what we came up here to see."

"Cocky assholes. If they want to brag let them. Just lets us do our mission all the easier. Start point is in forty seconds." The co-pilot said. On their control panels every indicator icon lit up as their cameras and signal-gathering equipment came to life for the run. The pilots pushed his throttles forward as his craft passed Mach 5 and finally settled into the attack speed of Mach 6.3. The alien on their wing matched them.

The pilot looked over at his opposite number in the alien craft. The Imperial pilot sent him a mocking salute before pulling up the nose of his own craft and leading his flight away from the spyplane. The pilot breathed a sigh of relief as he put more and more distance between the two of them.
They dropped a dozen miles in altitude as they vectored in on their approach down the length of Upper California's coastline. The darkened landscape of Upper California passed beneath them with only small fires or vehicle lights marking the difference between the shore and the Pacific. The two pilots switched between thermal, infra-red and night-vision on their helmets as they made their approach down the coastline at supersonic speeds. Ahead of them a glow marked the location of the Battle of Los Angeles.
Surrounding the doomed metropolis were several giant spacecraft that had been dubbed 'Star Destroyers' by Intelligence. The big UFOs had pounded a circular zone of death around the city with their larger laser cannons. Inside that zone hundreds of the tinier and slower 'H' fighters flew patrol over the burning city. Here and there they dove on unseen targets on the ground. The pilot took those actions to mark the positions of the NAU army's defensive lines.

The moonlit sky itself was filled with bursts of flak fire and the arcs of hundreds of strange blue energy projectiles that were flung from the beach areas and neighborhoods around the LAX international airport. The quick alien shells slammed down around the city on top of what the pilot assumed were his own side's artillery positions.

His flight plan took his plane directly underneath one of the 'Star Destroyers' and through the barrage of laser fire it was putting down. Suddenly that curtain of super-heated death disappeared. The alien mothership held its fire as they passed beneath it. That the aliens seemed to want them to succeed was the only conclusion the pilot could come up with for their amazing luck.

Behind and beneath the pilot on his plane's fuselage several top-secret cameras made by the Kodak and Nikon companies went to work. Their high-speed lenses taking millions of frames of digital images in a dozen different spectrums. Both pilots knew that each of the cameras cost more ameros than each of their houses combined and that high command was more concerned with the survival of the cameras than the two pilots.

Far beneath them the beaches of LA were cratered and pitted from the effects of the alien's landing. Night fighting had already pushed into the rubble of neighborhoods to the east. Small laser fire marked the boundaries of the pitched battle as it moved inland from the coast. Large strange shaped transports were landing at LAX while smaller, barn-sized transports buzzed in and out of the international airport like angry killer bees around a intruder.

The cameras recorded thousands of images of strange white and black infantry pouring from those transports and fighting tooth-and-nail with the American soldiers trying to set up an organized defense in the city.

The pilot noted the presence of strange, gray machines that walked on four legs and advanced ahead of the alien infantry. Out of their 'heads' poured red laser energy that decimated whatever it hit. An American attack helicopter unleashed a volley of hellfire missiles at one of the 'walking' vehicles just as enemy 'H' fighters blasted it from the sky. The American ground forces may have been knocked back on their heels but they were still in the fight. He rooted and prayed for his countrymen below as he streaked across their positions sending sonic booms across the Los Angeles Basin.

The pilot knew his cameras now contained information that needed to be in the hands of the generals commanding the forces coming to LA's rescue. With his afterburners still maxed out he raced out of the city to the south. The plane had only been over Los Angeles for a little less than a minute.

The spyplane overflew Orange County, which was clogged with refugees from the battle and the orbital bombardment that had razed San Diego to the ground south of them. Blue energy impacts exploded across the devastation as more and more army and national guard units tried to make sense out of the chaos below.

The cameras recorded everything.

They made another wide banking turn east as they passed over the wreckage of Coronado Harbor in San Diego. The city and its port, that had been the home of the NAU's Pacific Fleet headquarters was now slagged from the effects of an earlier, massive, orbital bombardment.
The cameras took more photos.

Twenty minutes later the spycraft came to a landing on the super-extended runway at Groom Lake inside Area 51. Technicians and ground crewmen swarmed the craft, desperate to get it undercover and inside a armored bunker located half a kilometer underneath the base. Even as the craft was still taxiing to its hanger the cameras were removed and the digital images whisked away by agents from the National Security Agency.

The plane moved into the specialized skunkwork's hanger and then was placed on a specialized lift system that lowered it into the bowels of the top-secret airbase. Five minutes later the two pilots were being debriefed when the underground bunker system began to rumble and shake as if from an earthquake.

In orbit high above, the heavy turbolasers of a Star Destroyer reduced the above-ground hangers and runway of Area 51 to molten glass.

Kuati Research Sector, Block Besh Six, Culter City, Imperial Mars

Ashla Ti, fugitive Togrutan Jedi Knight, was looking for her friends.
She stood on the roof of a massive, unpowered molecular furnace across the street from the Industrial Automaton droid manufacturing plant that shared a wall with her goal this evening. Aerial blimps with giant HoloImaging skins cruised slowly overhead showing propoganda images of victories from the new war on nearby Earth while multicolored searchlights mounted beneath their hulls bathed the towering factory buildings around her.

Twenty-three floors below her at street-level the metropolis of Culter City was alive in celebration. The survivors of Tarkin's Fist were celebrating the return of the Fleet Admiral's brat according to the Martian HoloNews. Ashla sneered; she knew what they were really celebrating was war. War that had come to Mars by the will of their Empire. War that would put those ex-slaves down below back on top of somebody else again.

Twelve years ago another tragic war had willed that she, as a Jedi, would never be on top again.
She put thoughts of politics aside and concentrated on the obstacle ahead. Through flashes of fireworks and laser light she studied the fifty-meter gap between the Industrial Automaton building and her perch on the giant molecular furnace. In her minds eye she knew exactly where she would leap from and had already chosen her point of landing. Her montrals echolocated the distance once more in silent confirmation.

Fifty meters.

Her missing friends were rumored to be somewhere ahead. That rumor had cost quite a bit when she had bought it from a Bothian information-broker at the Long Jump Casino. This is why Jedi don't form attachments, she reminded herself. That way they don't end up falling to their deaths in the middle of the night.

Several fireworks boomed loudly overhead, scrambling her species' unique sixth sense and ruining her night-vision for half a second. Reflexively, she reached out with the Force. Reflectively she bore her fangs and silently hissed. Someone was out there. Someone was watching her.

She ducked behind a large release valve on the furnace's roof. Her red skin and black pants and cropped-cut top, though more befitting of a Sith, hid her instantly in the shadows. She controlled her breathing, narrowed her eyes, and reached out with the Force again, probing the factory across the street. Its security guards were several floors below watching the street festival, yet she could sense that someone else was close. She looked over the ledge at the crowds below and, sensing nothing, braced herself for her inhumanly, long leap.

She backed up as far as she could, to give herself enough space to build up the speed needed for her jump. She kicked off her boots, a Togrutan habit, and pulled out her inactive lightsaber. If someone was out there she was ready. Putting all of her trust in the Force she propelled herself forward across the roof of the furnace. At the lip of the furnace's edge she jumped.

She focused on the ledge across the street. The thousands of celebrating beings below never noticed the darkened figure that streaked through the night sky. She started to feel her trajectory dip and applied the technique of Force-Leap, instantly shooting her ten meters higher at a much faster rate of speed. Within a heartbeat she cleared the far edge, impacting the droid factory's roof with a thud and a roll. Her training kicked in, and following through with an Ataru-style roll, she bounded quickly to her feet. Already her blue lightsaber was activated and she was in the High-Guard position of her beloved Djem So style of lightsaber combat handed down to her by her former Master, Agen Kolar.

She focused on slowing down her rapid breathing as she echolocated again for any hidden threats around the darkened rooftop. No new sounds of approach rose from her invasion of the factory's perimeter. The only noise was that of the celebration below. She deactivated her lightsaber and stood erect, lowering her guard for the smallest fraction of a second.

That was all it took for the wall next to her to explode into life. A silent, black, armor-clad figure hit her mid-section and hurled both of them through a large skylight. Clari-crystalline glass shattered around them as they crashed through the opening.

Ashla struck back, ramming her elbow into the figure's back and shoulder as they hurled towards the factory's manufacturing floor. The mysterious stranger bounced off of her and landed somewhere else in the darkened factory. A beam of moonlight from the smashed skylight illuminated the center of the room.
Ashla recovered quickly from the impact with the floor, activated her blade, and returned to the High-Guard position. Her montrals and Force-abilities scanned the darkness for her attacker. "Show yourself." She hissed as she bore her fangs at the pitch-blackness surrounding her.

"Well, well, what have we got here? A Jetii di'kut? All by yourself, Girlie?" A voice mocked from the shadows. Her blade's light illuminated hundreds of inactive blue R2 astromech droids lined up in rows arround her. The electically-modified voice echoed off of their metal skins. Was he using Mando'a slang? Poodoo, she had to think. Was she facing a clonetrooper? A Mandalorian Supercommando? A Dark-Jedi?

"You know, Order 66 is still in effect as far as I know. Old Palps still wants you dead." A clone then, she decided. The rumor of the Jedi-murdering Order 66 had reached her during her years on the run from the Empire's hounds. Now one of them had found her trillions of parsecs from the Empire that had issued the order. "Probably be a big reward for turning you in."

"You are welcome to try. But I warn you I will not be easy prey like the Jedi you probably shot in the back." Silence greeted her words. She felt a sharp pang of regret and pain in the Force. She braced for the attack, scanning row after row of R2s for her hidden attacker.

Then he was there, standing in front of her in Katarn-class Night-Op armor, his DC-17m aimed at her face. Why show himself, she wondered? They shared a nod before he blasted off a poorly-aimed plasma bolt. She weaved her lightsaber into action and with a humming buzz the red blaster bolt deflected into a nearby R2 unit. The clone charged right into her attack but ducked just as her blade whirred at his helmet. His weight crashed into her legs. Her Jedi skills proved the superior and she flipped upwards, landing on top of the sliding clone.

Her knee knocked the blaster out of his hands and she brought the tip of her blade to his throat. "Why didn't you kill me when you had the chance?" She asked the pinned trooper.
Suddenly a green lightsaber was activated and held to her own neck. "Because I've killed enough Jedi."

She detected a well of sorrow in the clone's words. "Truce?" He asked.

"Truce." Both lightsabers deactivated at the same time. They both regained their footing. "Should I ask you where you got that?"

"Saleucami, last day of the War." the clone pulled out a grappling hook and attached it to the barrel of his blaster. Ashla knew only one thing happened on the last day of the War that mattered. She felt the Dark Side shutter quickly by and fought to keep the sickly presence of rage at bay. A Jedi shall know neither love nor hatred. Nor, she reminded herself, anger.

In the end she swallowed it.

He fired the grappling hook upwards, snagging it on a support up on the roof and reached out his hand to her. She hesitated for a moment before taking it. She didn't feel any hatred coming from this clone. She knew he still had standing orders to kill her but something told her she would be safe going with him. She stepped forward and took his hand. He wrapped his arm around her torso and held her tight as the blaster recoiled the grappling line, pulling them skyward. The rows of silent, deactivated R2s remained as the only witnesses to what had happened there.

She helped him to the roof, where fireworks continued to light the night sky. "What business do the Jedi have sneaking around Industrial Automaton?" He asked as he stowed away his looted lightsaber inside his armor.

"I don't. I'm not with the Jedi anymore." She explained.

"Probably for the best. Not many of them around anymore, are there?" He didn't seem to mean any harm with his statement but that didn't stop it from hurting any less.

"No thanks to your Emperor Palpatine. Who are you anyways?"

"Well, for starters I really don't think he's our Emperor anymore, just as much as I don't believe Order 66 has any effect here on Mars. As for who I am, I'm just Neyo. Well, some call me CC-8826 Clone Commander Marshal Neyo, 91st Reconnaissance Corps. But like I said, you can call me Neyo."

"Well, Neyo, it's good that Order 66 is no longer a concern. . . with you at least. I'm Ashla Ti, Jedi Knight, but you can call me Ashla. As for what business I have up here, I have none. My concern is them." She pointed at the smaller industrial complex next to Industrial Automaton's.

His head swiveled. "Kandosii! Arkanian Microtechnologies? That's where I was heading, too."

"Seriously?" She asked. He just nodded in response. As a clone she figured he probably had his own reasons for breaking into a cloning facility. "I hope we're not after the same thing."

"Depends. I'm here for answers. Looking to do some snooping around their computer mainframe." He explained.

She was relieved but only because Arkanian's cloning technology held no particular interest for her. "Good. I'm here for some misplaced friends of mine."

"Let me guess, Gran?"

"Yes, and an Ishi Tib. How did you know?"

"About a month ago this place was crawling with them. Then I got a tip that they all got moved out to that huge prisoner of war camp being set up way out on the other side of Mars. They've probably been there for a couple of weeks at the least. I'm sorry that I don't know more of their fate." Ashla's heart sank as the possibility that Frip and Brakatak had been moved once again. Already she had freed the female members of Brakatak's Gran herd and she had hoped to reunite the entire herd tonight. "Well then, we should go find out what we can."

"Agreed. I have no love for cloners. I'll watch your shebs if you watch mine?"

"Sounds good. Shall we?" She gestured to the railed wall separating the two compounds. He moved first, rappelling down his grappling line in a matter of seconds before taking a covering position for her descent. When she landed next to him he silently pointed out a TT-8L/Y7 gatewatcher droid next to the rooftop entrance.

She motioned for him to stay put. Utilizing the Force she propelled a loose piece of debris across the rooftop. The droid gatewatcher followed it on its ponderous path. When the piece of trash was as far from them as it could get on the rooftop, she stood and flung her activated lightsaber. It whirled like a spinning disk before dissecting the security device in two halves. It continued its circling journey before returning to her palm. Neyo just shrugged; evidently he had seen that Jedi trick before.

Neyo rushed to the door and crouched beside it, listening. "Anything?" he asked. She reached out with the Force to sense the presence of anyone on the other side. Sensing nothing, she shook her head. His leg kicked out like a battering ram, shattering the door's lock and flinging it inward. The noise sounded like a Hutt falling off a cliff. Ashla hoped the noise from the celebrations at street level would drown out the racket they were making.

They both crept inside, covering each other as they made their way down the stairwell. They silently swept through each floor of offices and maintenance levels until they reached the production level. A security pass and retinal scan was required to access the floor, but Neyo proved to have more than one trick up his sleeve in order to slice the security systems. He placed what appeared to be a homemade and highly modified slicer chip on the door's electronic security alarm. From a pouch on his leg he withdrew a meter long piece of slicewire with dual carbonite handles. The molecule thick wire could cut through almost any material from durasteel to plasteel when used by the hands of an expert. Neyo expertly went to work on the hinges. He had the heavy durasteel security door open in under half a minute.

The vault-like door swung inwards, revealing a low-light room of industrial-sized vats and boilers. Along one wall stood six cloning chambers amongst several Bacta tanks. Dozens of monitoring devices were scattered around the room, their tiny indicator lights blinking like soulless eyes watching them from everywhere.

In the center of the room stood several computer mainframe workstations. Neyo started to advance when Ashla suddenly grabbed his shoulder and held him back. "I've got a bad feeling about this."
No sooner had the words escaped her mouth than out of the darkness a pair of violet electrostaffs ignited. Their dual electromagnetic, pulse-generating tips whirred in matching circles like two horrific, evil eyes. From out of the shadows stepped a pair of cloaked IG-100 MagnaGuards.

They stood just under two meters tall but from the horror stories Ashla had heard in the Temple, that the MagnaGuards were Jedi-killers, she knew better than to underestimate them. Keeping her gaze trained on their fierce, red photo-receptor eyes, she activated her blue blade and prepared herself for a life or death fight. Neyo took careful aim with his blaster and waited for her next move.

She charged at the droid nearest to her, while at the same instant Neyo unloaded an entire clip of tibanna into its partner. The MagnaGuard facing the clone commander swung its electrostaff wildly as it deflected the incoming volley. Bolts of red plasma ricocheted haphazardly around the factory floor before several of them impacted with Neyo's adversary, knocking him to the ground. The deadly assassin droid was back on its feet a second later.

Ashla sprinted at her opponent, who planted one end of its weapon on the floor, using it as a pivot to
swing its body feet first at the Jedi. Ashla moved her lightsaber through an elegant upswing that amputated one of the droid's legs. But the other leg caught her in the chest and the remaining weight of the MagnaGuard slammed on top of her.

Ashla pushed upwards with the Force on her adversary and combined with the droid's momentum it continued to roll right past her. The MagnaGuard grasped at her as it went by, trying in vain to keep the superior position on the Jedi.

Ashla thought that several of her ribs might have been bruised or broken as she regained her knees. Pain radiated from her right side as she tried to regain the breath that had been forced from her lungs by the droid's assault. She started to stand but the crippled MagnaGuard was on her and swinging its electrostaff. Ashla concentrated on her defense as her blade bounced off the phrik-covered weapon. Just before the vicious droid could get inside of her defenses she focused her mind and became acutely aware of her surroundings. With an upward force-leap she back flipped from her prone position and landed on top of a nearby bacta tank.

The MagnaGuard glared at her from the ground, where it struggled to regain its footing with only one leg. Ashla sliced thought the feed and power cables of the tank and braced her shoulders against the wall. Her bruised ribs felt as if they were threatening to burst from her skin. With her feet firmly planted on the tank she pushed with all her might. She bit her lip hard as pain shot from her right side. The tank started to tip.

The MagnaGuard realized too late what was happening. It raised its electostaff in defense at the last minute as the weight of the tank crashed upon it, flattening it and shattering the tank. Bacta burst in every direction. Ashla jumped through the sloshing blue liquid with her lightsaber drawn downward. She landed on the incapacitated droid. Her blue blade sliced through its torso and she crouched at the ready until the red light faded from its photoreceptors.

Neyo moved slowly in a semi-circle, firing off carefully aimed shots every other second. The second MagnaGuard stood its ground, easily deflecting the clone's shots and waiting for a hole to emerge in Neyo's attack. It never detected the lightsaber that flew out of the shadows and decapitated it.
Ashla looked across the room where her weapon had fallen as the now headless droid turned to face its new attacker. It spun its electrostaff, effectively preventing Ashla from retrieving her lightsaber. Neyo chose that moment to charge. Silently moving to the droid's side, he kicked out with his heavy boot. The MagnaGuard struggled to regain its balance but before it could do so Neyo unloaded a fresh clip
into the monster's body.

The room was quiet except for Ashla's labored breathing. With a flick of her hand she retrieved her lightsaber and deactivated it.

"Hold it right there." A voice commanded from above.

Neyo and Ashla looked up and saw three Khommite scientists on a gantry above, nervously holding them under the sights of several DL-44 blasters. Each of the beings looked as if they had never held a blaster before. Neyo actually looked relaxed and unconcerned in all of his armor. He nodded at her.

Ashla shrugged and with a slight focus she Force-pulled the gantry away from its supports. The whole structure, along with their three would-be captors, crashed to the floor of the cloning facility. Ashla smirked at the three clumsy scientists as they tried to regain their footing on the bacta-slick floor. With his Katarn combat boots Neyo easily disarmed each of them. He moved away from the cowering cloners and went to examine the room's computer mainframe and cloning chambers.

Ashla approached the three Khommites. She tried to ignore the way they kept eying the deactivated lightsaber in her hand. "Where's Barakatak and Frip?"

"Who?" One of the cloners tried to put up a brave front.

"I don't have time to play games. The big Gran and the little Ishi Tib." " The blue blade came to life in her palm with an audible hum.

"We took. . . took them. . ." one of the scientists stammered.

"They're alive." Another cloner sputtered.

"So where are they?" She calmed the anger rising in her voice.

"We sent them to a concentration camp for prisoners, um...Camp 1138."

"But they're not criminals," Ashla raised the blade threateningly at one of them. "How you'd get them
inside."

"We framed them. We sliced new identies into Culter City Guard's criminal records, made them into Vigos for the Black Sun. The guards were so stressed for labor out there, that they didn't ask a lot of questions." Said one of the Khommites who was practically in tears.

"Where is it?" She growled.

"Its out on the Chryse Planitia, northwest of here," Neyo answered from the computer. "That's where the Fleet has set up a huge camp for arrivals from Earth."

"Then that's where I'm heading." She closed her lightsaber and faced the clone. "What should we do with these guys? The law would just set them free."

"Don't worry about them. I've got a little job for them and their cloning gear." He walked over and
placed a set of stun collars on each of the cloners. Then he yanked each of them to his feet and directed them to start loading their equipment into a nearby hovertruck parked at the plant's loading ramp. "I wish I could help you more with your friends, but I have my own mission."

He reached into his armor and pulled out the green lightsaber handle from earlier. He handed it to her. "It was on Saleucami. Her name was Stass Allie, and she was the best General I ever followed. You were right. We blasted her in the back, like cowards."

Ashla didn't know what to say. She reached out and hesitantly took the offered lightsaber.
"It never did feel right, what we did to the Jedi. They were our Generals and our friends. I'm sorry." Neyo offered with genuine sorrow in his voice. Ashla could feel herself fighting back her own tears.

"I know. I feel the good inside of you."

"Between the Jetii and us clones thousands have perished. Let us have peace."

"Agreed." She turned away and left the cloning center as tears streamed down her face.

2 Kilometers over Santa Catalina Island, Target East Approach, NAU, Earth

Platoon Sergeant SF-4738 was as ready as he was ever going to get. He looked around the interior of the crew compartment of the troop-carrying MAAT/i as it picked up speed for its final approach to the landing zone. The warm ocean air blew through the troop doors as he unslung his E-11 blaster from his shoulder and removed the safety on the blaster rifle.

The young stormtroopers around him followed his lead. A few of them performed a quick function check of their blasters, others checked and rechecked their armor, while others stared out the doors at the passing ocean. But most of them just stood in silent contemplation of the combat that lay ahead for them all. One new recruit lifted up his helmet and vomited out the doorway as his nerves got the better of him. No one gave the trooper any grief about it.

In the back of the MAAT/i two of his veterans, HF-3105 and JN-6166, laughed at a private joke as they hefted the platoon's heavy PLX-2M Missile Launcher onto HF-3105's back. The two veterans had been through a dozen engagements together and SF-4738 had no doubt they would stick to each other's sides during the upcoming fight. His shinies were another story.

Forty-two noobs filled out the ranks of his 3rd Platoon. None of them had never fired a blaster in anger or had hostile enemy fire aimed back at them before. How they would perform in battle was a mystery. His relatively new platoon leader, Lieutenant Mahan, stood nearby looking over the shoulders of the flight crew. The youthful Loot had proved himself in the hand-to-hand combat aboard the Abandoned Hope last year, but it still remained to be seen how he would perform in a blaster fight. The kid didn't lack for guts but SF-4738 made a mental note to keep the officer within arm's reach during the fight, just in case. SF-4738 wasn't ready to take over the command of the platoon just yet.

He nudged Mahan in the shoulder and the officer stood up from his leaning position. The loot moved aside enough for him to duck his bucket into the cockpit. "We almost there, Boys?" he asked the flight crew. The polarized lenses in his helmet dimmed to protect his eyes from the rising sun in the east.

"Three minutes to LZ." the pilot answered. "First wave is reporting the landing zone is still hot."
He wasn't kidding either.

Ahead of the thousands of transports bringing in the second attack wave towards Target East, the metropolis of Los Angeles burned. A massive wall of smoke showed where the orbital bombardment had cut the city off from the rest of the North American Union. Occasionally, a green-hued turbolaser bolt would streak down through the thick, gray plumes to inflict further damage.

Closer to them large parts of the metropolis burned as the battle for the city raged throughout Los Angeles County. Towards the oceanfront and the beaches ahead SF-4738 could make out the positions of the first wave slowly pushing their way inland. The first landings had occurred at sundown the day before, and three other legions had fought through the night in strange Earth neighborhoods with odd names of Rancho Palos Verdes, Torrance, Pacific Palisades, and San Pedro.

Above the city small black clouds blossomed as the enemy tried to erect a cover of shrapnel-filled flak to knock down the Imperial airspeeders. He noticed several wings of TIE fighters circling lazily above the weird flak but couldn't detect any of the Earth's own airspeeders in the neighborhood. That was good; it was always best to have air superiority in any combat environment. Elsewhere he saw large aquatic ships burning or capsized next to the demolished docks of the on-rushing city, as well as dozens of smoky pillars marking smaller boats burning on the surface below him.

He wondered how much fight these abos had left in them. His thoughts were interrupted by the MAAT'i's comm. "All Three Niner Five transports make for L-Z LAX, repeat all Three Niner Five transports make for L-Z LAX."

He balanced himself as the pilot banked the transport to the north aiming for the civilian airspeeder base that had been captured by the first wave early in their attack. The hundreds of transports carrying the stormtroopers of the 395th Legion flew in formation along with them.

The NCO prepped himself as the whole formation descended toward the choppy surf below. He reached into his belt pouch and pulled out a stimpak full of haladreshin. He pushed the trigger on the hand-held device as it injected a small amount of the neurological stimulant into his right brachial artery and felt a warm rush as the chemical compound surged through his veins. Several other troopers around the compartment did the same with their own stimpaks.

An alarm ping suddenly chimed through the cockpit and he noticed how both of the flight crew suddenly tensed up in their jump seats. "What's the matter?" he asked.

"Incoming anti-airspeeder strike, Sarge." The co-pilot answered. "We were briefed that the abos have a nasty one in the neighborhood. Sensors indicate it's not locked on us."

"Attention all transports." the cockpit's FlightOp comm channel buzzed to life, "Attention all transports. Maintain formation. Evasive action is not authorized. Repeat. Evasive action is not..." the controller on the hyperspace radio seemed frantic with his warning.

"Why in the kriffing hell not?" SF-4738 asked the pilots.

Both of the MAAT/i flight crew had their hands full as they continued to go through the landing sequence, but the co-pilot shot back over his shoulder. "It's a pretty crowded sky up here, Sarge. These transports start breaking formation and we'll lose more to collisions than to anything the Earth scum can throw at us." His response made some small sense to SF-4738 but he hated leaving things to chance. He continued to scan the horizon. The Legion's crowded approaches to Target East reminded him of the busy skyways of Imperial Center.

The targeting computer on the control panel indicated twelve inbound, anti-airspeeder missiles. "Patriot IIIs." the co-pilot warned.

"What are those?" SF-4738 asked.

"It's their nastiest missile, slippery too." he pointed several kilometers inland where TIE/In starfighters were attempting to intercept the incoming attackers as distant TIE/sa bombers pounced on the weapon's launchers and eradicated them. The lead transports in the formation suddenly opened up with their chain turbolasers, lighting up the morning sky like an Empire Day celebration back on Imperial Center. Explosions erupted across their flight path as the intense blaster fire caught several of the enemy projectiles.

Off to his port side a flash of light caught his attention as an incoming MAAT/i was struck head on by
one of the Patriot III missiles. With a spiraling trail of smoke twenty-five stormtroopers and air crew plunged to their deaths in the deep blue sea below. A nearby lumbering MAAT/c was trailing smoke as it fell out of the formation. From what SF-4738 gathered from what his flight crew was saying to each other, they believed the stricken craft would at least make it into L-Z LAX. Whether it would ever leave again was anyone's guess.

He didn't have time to worry about the other transport as he ducked his head back into the cargo compartment. He checked his chromo. Thirty seconds to go. He saw the sandy stretches of a beach flash by as his transport raced across the coast. He moved over until he was next to his platoon leader in the open doorway. They both were right behind the door gunner's bubble and a mere fifty meters off of the deck. SF-4738 scanned the odd construction styles below for snipers and ambushes. In the blink of an eye they were over the ironically named Imperial Highway 105 and on approach to LAX's southern jetway.

"Get tactical troopers!" SF-4738 yelled at the crowded troop bay.

"Sarge, looks like we tore up their airspeeder base pretty wizard." Mahan exclaimed with excitement as he gestured to the cratered and pockmarked deck below.

"Loot, that's not blaster burns, that's heavy slugthrower damage. They've probably been throwing slugs at the first wave boys all through last night."

"Oh, I didn't think about..." before he could say what he hadn't thought of, the MAAT/i touched down on the L-Z. SF-4738's boots were the first on the dirt. Mahan charged ahead following field police guides from the legion that had already secured the base. The Sergeant stood outside the door, spun around and grabbed the first stormtrooper he could. "Move your shebs Boys! Emperor be damned, I said move it! Move it! Move it! Move it!" he pulled and flung one trooper after another after their platoon leader. Random slug explosions around the airspeeder base were nothing compared to the wrath of their platoon sergeant.

JN-6166 and HF-3105 were the last two off of the transport as they manhandled their heavy weapons forward. He wasn't sure, but if their external speakers had been on SF-4738 imagined that they would have been laughing at him. They had heard his battle-field threats a dozen times over the years. He reminded himself to knock their larking buckets together if he got the chance. The second the last two troopers cleared the door the big MAAT/i rose into the sky again. A stormtrooper with ground controller guidance cones and advanced commo waved it away as a LAAT/c dropped off a TIE crawler tank less than twenty seconds after SF-4738's own transport took off. The process was repeating itself all along the captured runway.

Even inside his bucket the sheer sound of the battle was almost deafening. Hundreds of explosive, enemy slugs burst along the edges of the airspeeder base, while Imperial artillery returned the favor with mass-drivers and arcing plasma bolts. TIE fighters and Imperial transports by the hundreds screamed overhead as the second wave was landed inside the landing zone.

Thousands of stormtroopers followed their officers east towards hastily prepared positions along the berm of the San Diego Freeway 405 ahead of them. On the freeway's raised position SF-4738 could see several dozen walkers from the first wave blasting at targets inland. Several haphazard slug artillery shells burst down amongst the collapsed buildings and advancing stormtroopers, blowing some off their feet. Most got up again but some of them stayed down. As he followed in his platoon's wake, policing up any stragglers, he noticed a 'Dustoff' LAAT/a overloaded with stretchers taking off, presumably heading towards the nearest Med-Star frigate in orbit above. He tried not to think of the sight as an ill omen. This was war; troopers got wounded in war, troopers got killed in war. His boys were going to be fine, he told himself, he would make sure of that.

His breathing picked up as he jumped into one crater after another, just to climb out the other side and continue his jogging advance to the front lines. His helmet's HUD identified each trooper in his command from the horde rushing towards the raised roadway. He jerked to the left, out of the way of an AT-AP that was readjusting its firing position before returning indirect counter-battery fire at an unseen enemy howitzer. They were going after the enemy artillery with a vengeance. Field police waved the men of the 395th to the side as a column of HAV-A5 Juggernauts ambled up and over the raised freeway berm ahead.

Forn Company fell into position amongst the collapsed overpass at the junction of the freeway and what somebody told him was West Century Boulevard. The blocks of buildings had been pounded into rubble and dust by both sides during the previous night's fighting. SF-4738 recognized the unit markings of the 222nd legion amongst the stormtroopers dug in on the high ground. AT-ATs from both waves started to mass behind the freeway for the morning's push further into the city.

SF-4738 ordered his troopers to start digging in and got his corporals to supervise their work as he and Mahan were called over for a quick leadership briefing in the assembly area. SF-4738 recognized GF-7483, the 6th Battalion's Sergeant Major standing with the battalion's colonel as they arrived in the huddled group. They were accompanied by a few other First Sergeants and officers of the 222nd's 3rd Battalion, the unit they were passing through before jumping off.

One of officers from the 222nd was addressing the group. "We landed in the evening and surprised them pretty good. From the prisoners we've taken we've learned that the abos weren't exactly prepared for us here. The bombardment only gave them a twelve-hour window to move troops into the city so they were pretty disorganized when we landed. That's been changing by the hour." The stormtrooper with Major's insignia explained. "Now to our immediate front we've got elements of the 40th Upper California
National Guard, 4th Infantry Division, and the 11th Armored Cavalry divisions."

A NCO of theirs continued, "We mauled them pretty good during the night, but the dark didn't slow them any. They've got night-viewers that allow them to see like a nexu. They slowed our advance down to about a third of our objective lines. There's not a house or building on the other side of this embankment that they didn't fight tooth and nail for."

"Anything you can tell us about their capabilities?" A lieutenant next to Mahan asked.

"Yeah, the new armor we've got is nearly as good as advertised but that doesn't mean you want to get in close with them. We found out the kriffing hard way that their bigger slugthrowers can certainly kill a careless trooper at any range and if they get on top of you, you're womp rat bait. Oh, and something you definitely want to tell the troopers; Whatever they're using for building material around here is pretty cheap. The duracrete they use can be blasted through, even with your small arm blasters. If you hear them on the other side of a wall shoot through it. Almost every barricade or obstacle they've erected turned to poodoo once our blasters tore into it."

"Thank you, Major. Your help is appreciated." The colonel of the 6th Brigade interrupted him. "Ok, Boys, we'll be advancing in bounding rushes in a continuous line. We're here to clear them out block by block. That means sending troopers down into the sewers as well. The 222nd and two other legions have already reported that the earthlings are defending those as well. Midday goal for the whole legion is some street named Crenshaw Boulevard, about three or four kilometers east, followed by our evening objective at the 110 freeway." He indicated a raised freeway well in the distance. "Reports of several nasty civilian pirate or swoop-gangs in the area, especially in this Inglewood neighborhood ahead, just remember we don't have time for prisoners right now."

SF-4738 made a mental note that if any of these Earthlings raised a slugthrower at his boys he'd cut
them down, civilian status be damned. The veteran Sergeant felt himself start to get anxious to get his troopers moving again, the colonel was wasting too much time here on the edge of the L-Z. He repeatedly scanned his eyes back to his platoon's nearby position, insuring himself that they were all right. He mentally calmed himself to focus on the job ahead. The Colonel continued, "We've got to push out. The first wave still hasn't gotten all of its support SPHA/m landed, and until they do we won't have a lot of arty support either. Commanders stick close to your forward air-observers, and you can call in all the TIE/sa bomber strikes you want."

"These earthlings are a pretty sorry..."

SF-4738 never heard the blast, but he certainly witnessed the impact that stopped the colonel in mid-sentence. A large caliber slug scarred the side of the officer's bucket as a sickening popping noise told of the colonel's neck breaking.

"Sniper!" Several of the gathered group shouted as once as they all flopped to the ground.

SF-4738 grabbed Mahan's shoulder plate and gave him a tug. The Loot nodded and followed the platoon sergeant as they belly crawled back to their platoon. Behind him he heard GF-7483 ordering everyone back to their units to get the attack under way. He risked a glance and saw the Sergeant Major standing amongst colored smoke, obscuring several medics working on the downed officer. Well, if the talkative Colonel wasn't dead then he had just bought himself a few months in a bacta tank, SF-4738 told himself. As SF-4738 crawled through the smoke and mud he wondered which of them was the lucky one. Kriffing great way to start a war.

"Stang brave officer, the Colonel?" Mahan asked as they crawled.

"He didn't know when to shut up, Loot. Stupid, too, to let a sniper get a chance to draw a bead on him like that." He noticed how the young officer slowed down to consider his hidden warning.

They arrived back at their platoon's position within a few minutes. JN-6166 and HF-3105 sat on the western slope of the embankment as if they were lying on a beach on Naboo or Alderaan. "Get up Boys, we're moving out!" he shouted over the din of the battle.

"Yes, let's go, Troopers." Mahan echoed. "Stay close to the walkers."

Several of the massive AT-ATs were slowly lumbering over the roadway embankment or through the gap by the over-pass. They moved slowly in order not to out-distance their infantry support. AT-STs flitted in and out of the advancing formations identifying lines of resistance and roadblocks ahead. The four-legged walkers indiscriminately started leveling the blocks of homes ahead. In several locations Earthling hovertanks and landspeeders burst into flames as heavy blasters uncovered their concealed positions.
SF-4738 led the charge down the eastward slope and into the neighborhood ahead. They didn't take any fire right away as the 222nd had already held the first block or so of buildings. Soon enough they came upon a dug-in line of entrenched stormtroopers and E-Web emplacements that were laying down a withering fire into the wreckage of homes ahead.

Mahan was about to order an advance across the street, but SF-4738 stopped him in time. The lieutenant gave him a curious shrug before SF-4738 pointed straight up. A gray walker passed over their position. Its gray footpads shook the ground beneath them with every crunching step. His troopers were used to working with the machines and knew how to avoid getting stepped on.
The earthlings ahead were getting their first glimpse of the terrifying, massive war machines for the first time in daylight. The walker above drew every slug for blocks like a magnet. Thousands of lead slugs bounced uselessly off the hull of the AT-AT to rain harmlessly down on SF-4738 and his 3rd Platoon like a hot-lead hailstorm.

With dozens of hidden blasting positions suddenly revealed the stormtroopers wasted no time in tearing their blasterfire into their enemies. Two of his heavy grenadiers armed with large Z-6 rotary blaster cannons tore gaping holes in the earthling's defenses. One of them brewed up a hidden slugthrower-mounted landspeeder that exploded and shredded several enemy troopers crouched around it. Some of the abos realized what was happening and stopped blasting; for many others it was much too late. SF-4738 signaled one of his corporals behind him. The trooper's section went into action with their proton mortar launchers, flinging high-energy explosives down on the enemy ahead just as the AT-AT smashed into their positions.

Mahan led the charge as SF-4738 made sure each of his troopers followed. At the moment the proton mortars impacted with the enemy lines his whole platoon was already rushing across the street. Several of his boys went down due to random slugthrower blasts; most of them got up again and rejoined the hurried charge. Medics quickly fell on the few that stayed down.
One trooper from the first wave fell back past him, blood turning his camouflaged armor red as the trooper held his side. SF-4738 tried not to think of the shattered ribs and damaged internal organs the trooper was trying to protect as he made his way to the rear. One of the trooper's buddies ran up and threw his arm around his friend to help him make it to the medics. At least he's not dead, the platoon sergeant told himself as his stims kept him focused on the charge.

Within seconds the platoon was amongst the rubble of the first block of homes. His troopers went after the few surviving Earth defenders with a vengeance, blasting down as many as they could in their foxholes. In other places they used their numbers to overwhelm the few surviving defenders with fierce hand-to-hand fighting. In a row of destroyed homes ahead, SF-4738 watched as the abos retreated to another defensive line. He switched between thermal imaging, infrared, and normal modes on the lenses of his bucket with the ease of a youngling and located one hidden firing position after another. Immediately he ordered his E-Webs and JN-6166's PLX into action. They flattened each makeshift bunker in short order as the rest of his troopers worked to flank each house.

Lieutenant Mahan was nearby with one of their hyperspace radiomen, directing the AT-ATs heavy fire into target after target. Another walker to their right engaged a pair of earthling hovertanks that SF-4738 wasn't aware of until he saw two oily, smoking pyres marking their last stands.

Block after block it was much of the same. In several areas strange colorful swoop gangs made defensive stands for certain buildings alongside the military troopers the Earthlings fielded. They died in place as SF-4738's troopers flanked and crushed their positions. In only a few places did the Earth soldiers throw up their hands in surrender. SF-4738 didn't flinch the first time some of his troopers blasted down the beaten abos; that sort of thing happened in war. By mid-morning they had already captured over a hundred enemy troopers, most of them wounded, and sent them to the rear.

After passing through the only undeveloped area of the morning, an open space called Hollywood Park, SF-4738 was informed they could start to call in fire from newly-landed SPHA/m back at L-Z LAX. Enemy artillery fire had been declining throughout the morning as effective Imperial counter-battery blasts silenced one NAU gun after another. Several prisoners had remarked that amongst their own artillery crews it was said that to fire two rounds from the same position was a death sentence. SF-4738 had smirked at that. If you didn't have the right tools for the job, why would you go to war with the Empire in the first place?

Unfortunately the fraking abos didn't think that way. They weren't going to give up this town without a fight. They poured troopers into the city to battle block by block, house to house. Just crossing a street could be, and a few times was, worth a stormtrooper's life. 2-M Saber hovertanks came in and knocked houses flat and blasted the beings that fled from the ruins. Then some kriffing abo they hadn't blasted threw a bottle of flammable petrol through an open hatch and turned a Saber into a durasteel coffin for the pilot inside. And then a counterattack came in and threw the Imperials back three blocks.

More AT-ATs strode forward. Telling streets from blocks of houses wasn't so easy anymore. Imperial-occupied Los Angeles was nothing more than a rubble field. The whole city would look like that by the time SF-4738 and his troopers finished driving out the abos. . . if they ever did. He hoped he was wrong.
A nearby machine-slugthrower blasted at the walkers from the cover of what appeared to be a clothing store for tall and fat beings. Slugs clanged off the clunky machines' armor. SF-4738 didn't know why machine-slugthrowers banged away at the AT-ATs; they couldn't hurt them. Bang away they did, though. He wasn't sorry, though. The more slugs they aimed at the walkers the fewer they'd blast at his stormtroopers, whom they really could hurt.

Traversing heads had a ponderous grace. The three cockpits swung together till their heavy cannons bore on that malevolently winking eye of fire. The cannons spoke together, too. More of the battered shop fell in on itself. But the machine-slugthrower opened up again like a small youngling yelling, Nyah! Nyah! You missed me! when bigger younglings chucked rocks at him. The abo crew had guts.

All they got for their courage was another volley, and then another. After that the slugthrower stayed quiet. Had the walkers put it out of action or was it playing dead? SF-4738 hoped his troopers wouldn't find out the hard way.

He sent squads forward and was only half surprised when the machine-slugthrower in the ruined store opened up again. His stormtroopers were quick to take cover, too. He didn't think the slugthrower got any of them. He hoped not, anyways.

An Imperial walker sent several more heavy bolts into the clothing store. The machine-slugthrower stayed quiet. Ever cautious, stormtroopers in camouflaged white armor crawled forward. One of them tossed in a thermal detonator and went in after it. SF-4738 wished he had a trooper with a flamethrower handy but his blazetrooper was somewhere else in the line at the moment.

After a minute or so, the stormtrooper came out of the wreckage with his thumb up. That was one stubborn, abo machine-slugthrower that wouldn't murder anybody else. Now-how many hundreds, how many thousands more waited in Target East? The answer was too depressing to think about, so SF-4738 didn't.

A wide street ahead of the advance was a haven of high energy plasma explosions, as a sporadic barrage crept inland ahead of the stormtroopers and their walkers. SF-4738 crawled behind a collapsed wall with several of his troopers. Amongst the debris a small, green sign poked out. He pulled the metal object out of the rubble; across its face, in alternate basic, were the words Crenshaw Boulevard. He checked his Chromo. 1320. Over an hour behind schedule. In the distance the embankment of the 110 freeway seemed much closer than it had earlier that morning. Behind schedule, the enemy refusing to throw their hands up in surrender, this battle wasn't going as well as the vacheads in Fleet thought it would. Typical navy poodoo, he thought.

Tibanna haulers came forward with ammo and water to replenish his troopers. SF-4738 gave his boys a breather before the rest of the advance was ordered to continue. From both flanks retreating Earth soldiers rushed across the open expanse of Crenshaw ahead of other advancing stormtrooper units. His E-webs laid down a scything fire that cut down dozens of enemy troopers before they even knew his troopers were on their flank.

A primitive abo APC tried making it across as well, but JN-6166 and HF-3105 let loose with their PLX-4, decimating the armored vehicle and its crew in the middle of the roadway.

The order to advance came shortly there after. SF-4738 got his stormtroopers to their feet again as the monstrous AT-ATs led the charge across the street. "C'mon Boys, the quicker we wipe out this city, the faster this kriffing war will be over! Let's go! You think this abo scum wants to live forever?"

They advanced.

[Kalanidavidg]

Luwan Neighborhood, Shanghai PRC, Chinese Main Line of Resistance

Loi Cas couldn't remember when he had last slept. For that matter he couldn't recall the last time he wasn't sure he was about to die in the next moment. At this particular moment he found himself crawling through a muddy slit trench to one of his regiment's entrenched tank positions. His own command Type 99KM main battle tank remained in a firing position fifty meters to his rear.

He could feel the eyes of infantrymen, their forms and features concealed in the darkness of the smoke-filled night, watching him as he crawled by. His thermal night-vision goggles allowed him to crawl around a positioned sniper team armed with a QBU-88 sniper rifle and scanning the far bank with their night-sight spotter scopes for the well-hidden enemy soldiers. He risked popping his own head up for a moment for a better view of his goal ahead. The dark shape of another PLA tank was barely visible, camouflaged underneath the rubble of a collapsed store front. The armored behemoth's gun poked out of the debris tracking unseen enemy targets across the river.

His regiment had arrived on the western bank of the Haungpu River late the prior evening and had quickly entrenched themselves to repel the alien's inevitable assault. Across the river in Pudong, the enemy built up for their attack. He glanced back across the water at the giants that had appeared in the night. Massive, darkened, four-legged dragon-machines had taken up positions across the Haungpu, occasionally unleashing powerful laser fire from their heads. The few tanks he had ordered to engage the monsters all lay in burning piles of melted steel around his position.

Before he had left his own command position he counted nineteen of the huge war-machines, though messengers throughout the night had confirmed the presence of dozens more along the riverbank. They didn't even bother to conceal themselves as they stood in place, forebodingly absorbing artillery and direct-fire harmlessly throughout the night. Surely they would lead the assault that had to come with the dawn.

Loi Cas arrived at the tank under his command. Several concealed infantry and snipers in the rubble silently acknowledged his presence as he climbed onto the rear deck of the vehicle. He slapped the tank commander's hatch as quietly as he could with the palm of his hand. He didn't know why he bothered to remain so silent, since the rumble and crash of the battle roared up and down the river.

The hatch cracked slightly, and the Chinese Colonel could barely make out the presence of a pistol pointed at his face. "Golden?"

"Eagles." He swapped counter-signs with the soldier inside the tank. It was unlikely an alien enemy infiltrator knew the name of Shanghai's baseball team.

The hatch swung open, and the vehicle's tank commander stood low in the turret. He whipped off a quick salute at his Colonel, "Stop that, enemy snipers across the river have already proven they have the eyes of cats. Their night-vision gear is even better than the American stuff we've copied." As an extra precaution he dropped inside the turret for further protection.

He unfolded a map and laid it out on top of the gun's breech. The turret crew huddled around and studied it by the low-light given off by their flashlights. Several circles showed the positions of his remaining tanks amongst the jumbled maze of the Luwan District. He didn't mention that part of his job tonight was to see if each of those marked crews was still amongst the living, or if they had been picked off by the dragon-machines across the riverfront. He mentally checked off this tank before continuing.

"This is our secondary line of defense and this is our tertiary one, if that one falls as well." He explained as he traced several streets on the map.

"We are not going forward, Colonel?" The young tank commander asked. Confusion, hope, and fear all vied for dominance in his eyes in the limited light of the turret.

"The army is not fully in place yet. Our casualties have been..." He searched for the words to properly describe the massacre happening in the rear, "extreme." The three tankers nodded their heads in understanding. They had all seen the damage in the alien's bombardment zone when they had broke into the city. "But all is not lost. General Ling believes the 31st Group Army can hold. . ."

"General Ling? Where are General Cho and General Shanto?" The track's commander asked.

"Both of their headquarters have been destroyed due to enemy air attacks. We believe the alien signal interception units are quite good." Cas explained sullenly, "Which reminds me, there is a general order for all units to use minimal electronic signals while at the front, effective immediately.

"I see, Sir. Understood. But why aren't we going forward? There is a unit of commandos preparing to cross the river by inflatables on our left flank."

"Where?"

"About forty meters," The gunner explained. "Flying Dragon Unit's men. I saw them about fifteen minutes ago."

"Do we give support, Colonel?" The commander asked.

"No, save your ammunition for the morning. I have no knowledge of those soldiers or their mission. I've lost fourteen out of thirty six tanks in the past day. Let the special-forces play hero if they want, but our mission is to protect the people. Understood?"

"Yes Sir." The three tankers whispered in unison in the darkened turret.

"Be ready to move in the morning. I suspect the aliens will try to force a river crossing at first light." He reached up and unlatched the hatch before popping it open. As he climbed up out of the tank he felt a pull on his uniform's pant leg. He looked down into the face of the loader. The young private was the most junior man in the tank. The tank's commander looked horrified that the enlisted man would dare approach their superior officer in such a way.

"Colonel, I'm sorry, Sir." The man looked petrified to be speaking to him, and not just from the fear of the battle that raged around them. "Has there been any news from the outside? I mean outside Shanghai."

Loi Cas understood the boy's fear and concern. He too had a wife and child of his own. They had been up north in Beijing when the aliens arrived. The city hadn't been evacuated and there hadn't been any news since yesterday's attack. "Many cities have been hit, Son. But according to army headquarters they have been held to only landing and taking part of Shanghai so far."

"Nowhere else, Colonel?" The gunner asked from the bowels of the turret.

"There is a rumor they've landed in America as well. I heard California somewhere, but you did not hear that rumor from me. Bad for morale, so I better not hear it again. We have the honor of holding the aliens here, and we shall do so. When the whole army is ready we shall push them into the sea. Agreed? Good. Be ready to fight in the morning." He crawled out of the turret, knowing dawn was only four hours away.

He hunched down as he entered another shallow trench, bumping into several infantrymen huddled inside it for protection. Since his own unit had taken up position the day before, an unending trickle of men and supplies had been making its way up the riverfront. Cas didn't want to think of how many of those Chinese soldiers would never arrive.

Moving to the left of the first tank he slowly came across a wider stretch of trench. His goggles let him see commandos inflating several rubber boats. A 2nd Lieutenant noticed him and crawled over, not bothering to salute. "Colonel, are you in command of the tanks scattered about this neighborhood?"

"Yes, what's left of them. I was just doing my rounds with their crews now." He pointed to another tank-like shape in a rubble pile thirty meters ahead. "Are you crossing the river?"

The commando nodded as four boats laden with explosives were heaved over the river-facing lip of the trench. One commando after another disappeared over the top.

"Be careful. The aliens have awfully good night-vision capabilities, better even than my tank's thermal sights."

"Don't worry, Colonel. We learned in Formosa ways to deal with that." He indicated the rear boat, covered in camouflaged netting. It appeared to be the type of thermal dampening nets China had stolen from Sweden years ago. The man started to crawl over the lip of the trench to join his men.

"Barracuda netting won't be enough." Cas warned. The commando officer ignored him and helped his men slide their boats into the water.

Cas made it to the next tank and entered before the commandos were mid-river. He asked for the radio and keyed it to the regiment's channel. He didn't want to reveal his brigade's position but he was ready to provide covering fire if the Flying Dragon commandos needed it. Through the crash of both sides' artillery there was an eerie silence on the river. His own goggles had trouble tracing the commando's progress through the smoke and darkness.

Suddenly a dozen red flashes of light blinked to life on the far bank. Each flash repeated twice in less than five seconds before stopping. Cas stared up at the silent dragon-machines standing stoically on the far side; none of them had even budged or paid attention to the river. No enemy artillery had fallen, nor had Loi Cas seen any of the enemy's large bipedal walkers. He stared out into the river.
The four boats were silently drifting apart; one appeared to already be sinking. Onboard the figures of each of the commandos was slumped over or hanging over the boat's sides. No one was moving or calling for help as the boats drifted with the current downstream.

"Snipers." He said to no one in particular.

"Colonel?" The new tank commander asked.

"Sharpshooters on the far bank. Damn good ones too." He thought of the twenty-something commandos in those boats that had been wiped out in the space of a breath. Any thoughts of going forward tomorrow were quickly vanishing.

"Did you get their positions, Colonel? Our tank's gun might not do anything to those huge beasts standing across the river, but it could do some world-ending damage to an infantry man."

"No doubt, Sergeant, But those snipers are probably already relocating to new firing positions. I'd rather not lose this tank to shoot up some rubble pile in Pudong." The three tankers in the turret nodded in agreement. After all, the hapless commandos hadn't been in their unit.

Cas unfolded his map again. Once more he explained their fallback strategy if the enemy was able to get a foothold on their side of the river. He explained to the crew their area of responsibility and where their fire overlapped with fire from the tanks on their flanks. They nodded their understanding throughout his briefing.

Again he crawled out of the tank and into the make-shift infantry trenches. For the most part the enemy's artillery seemed focused on counter-battery fire through the early morning hours and left the riverfront alone, but in several places he saw the results of someone moving about in the night too much. The dragon-machines had put paid to vehicle and building alike. Anyone who became too frisky soon earned a salvo from the alien beasts nearby.

His uniform was now caked with mud from his crawl. He slowly traveled through an area of jagged metal. Through the smell of smoke and mud he noticed another odor. The reek of blood, burnt meat, and spilled innards filled his nostrils. Looking closely at the debris around him, he noted for the first time that he had been crawling through the charred remains of what had been a fully-manned Type-89 Infantry Fighting Vehicle. The tracked vehicle seemed to have been carrying its complement of fifteen soldiers besides its two man crew when it was hit. Loi Cas realized he must have crawled through most of them. His own vomit soon added to the horrid smell.

He frantically stood up and ran twenty meters before flopping himself down in another section of the trench. When he looked up half a dozen QBZ-03 rifles were pointed in his face. Evidently he had landed in the midst of several mortar teams setting up their 120mm weapons. They had the right to be jumpy; Cas noted they seemed to only be at a third of their normal strength. More troops lost in the bombardment zone, he figured. They raised their rifles as they became aware he was a Chinese soldier just like them, and a high ranking officer as well.

He noted one of the men nearby was an infantry major. The two of them looked at each other in their night-vision goggles. "These men yours?" He asked.

"What's left of them. I've got what's left of my battalion strung along two blocks each direction of this position." Cas did the math really quick. That was an incredibly small amount of ground for a battalion of infantry to cover. How many men did he lose getting into position? For that matter, why was a major commanding a battalion in the first place? The major answered before he could ask. "They're all gone. We lost just over sixty percent of our strength falling back out of Pudong yesterday. Can't rightly say if it did us any good." he spit into the mud, "Never did see many of the alien-devils go down."

Cas wondered what he meant by that. "I have twenty-two tanks left that I know of. I could use infantry support."

"Yeah? We saw you were in the neighborhood. Saw you guys just made fat targets for those damned lasers of theirs when you arrived. Why should we help?"

"For starters, I could order you to." Cas stared the man squarely in the face, "But more importantly I can offer you a ride." Cas saw that he suddenly had the officer's complete attention. "You and I both know the aliens didn't stop because of the river. They're going to hit us first thing in the morning and this whole line is going to crack. Things are going to move pretty fast after that. If you can keep their infantry off of my tanks, your men are perfectly welcome to hitch a ride as grenadiers while we haul butt to the secondary line of resistance. Otherwise, you'll be cut off and crushed underneath those," he pointed at one of the dragon-machines across the river, "In under, what I'm guessing, a quarter hour after the sun rises."

The major considered the offer. Finally, he bowed to the superior officer. "Your big fat tanks will surely draw their fire away from my men, but I don't want them being left behind when the army. . ." he looked for the proper phrase, ". . .'maneuvers' tomorrow. We have a deal." He saluted. Cas unfolded his map and they went over the details for a short while before the armor colonel moved on again.

The horizon was already turning purple in the east when Loi Cas finished his last briefing and returned to his own tank. Overhead, Chinese artillery shells trickled across the river to spoil the alien-devils' attack. Cas hoped the artillery crews were doing some good, but if he had known they were losing a gun for every twenty shells they flung due to intensely accurate counter-battery fire, he would have wept at the senseless sacrifice.

In the collapsed tenements around him thousands of Chinese soldiers gripped their rifles and prepared themselves. Crushed apartment buildings nearby held regiments of men who feared that this was their last hour on Earth. Tens of thousands of soldiers dug in that morning, hoping against hope they would stand, if only for a moment, long enough for the might of China to rally and throw the aliens into the sea.

Colonel Loi Cas stood in his hatch and scanned across the river with his binoculars; his night-vision goggles now tucked away in his leg pouch as morning's light filtered across the river. His own tank was well-hidden inside the remains of a destroyed book store, yet he could feel the presence of dozens of eyes upon him.

Quiet permeated the battlefield as his own side's few remaining guns fell silent. A flight of seabirds cruised along the river. Their cries and the lapping of the tide were the only sounds he could hear. The silence was almost a physical force.

He stared at the gray monster across the river from him. Its bulky hull stood upon four stilt-like legs. He noticed the chin guns on what he assumed was its head, as well as another pair along its 'ears'. The machine had a single long 'eye' on its head, and Cas wondered if that was where the crew sat, watching the Chinese build-up across from them.

With a creak and a thudding crash, the dragon-machine suddenly took a slow step forward. The vibration of the metal foot's impact was felt across the river and inside his own tank. River birds took flight at the sudden, thudding intrusion to their serenity. Cas swallowed hard and scanned across the front. Everywhere he looked the beasts were making their way forward.

"Driver, start engine."

His tank's liquid-cooled diesel engine sprung to life. Its 155mm main gun slowly traversed as it tracked the head of the nearest dragon-machine. Suddenly, the horizon lit up in the distance as if thousands of lightning bolts shot to the sky from the ground only a kilometer or two behind the enemy's front line.

"Incoming!"

He dropped into the tank, slamming the hatch shut behind him. "Gunner, fire!" The main gun snapped backwards inside the turret, spitting out its shell casing to clang loudly on the turret's floor, as the sabot round raced across the river to its target. Already the loader was reaching for another round to slam into the gun.

Before he could reach the tank-killing ammo, the three of them were lifted up, colliding with the roof of the turret before smashing back down. The loader's face exploded as it smacked into the breech of the gun. Cas recovered his dazed senses and righted himself enough to scan outside with the turret's periscope.

The sight that greeted him was right out of the West's version of Hell. High explosive laser and plasma rounds slammed down along the entire front. Soldiers and debris were being flung everywhere. Soldiers were burning. Infantry men were smashed with every round. Each blue-hued round taking a dozen lives in each impact. One of his tanks was sliced in four separate pieces as alien firepower found it.

Through glimpses in the fog of the battle he noted one of the dragon-machines on his right flank already standing at leisure in the river. Its tree-like legs disappeared in the deeper water mid-river while its dual chin-cannons walked super-heated death into one Chinese position after another.

Cas jumped across the turret and moved the wounded loader out of the way. Yelling orders at the gunner he felt the turret turning as he loaded another sabot round in the gun. Something big slammed into the ground next to the armored vehicle, turning is askew in its firing position. The gunner continued to correct his aim. "Fire!" Cas screamed.

The gun snapped backwards again as cordite smoke filled the cramped space. Cas moved over to his gun sight again. The dragon-machine had stopped moving halfway across the swirling river. "Where did you hit it?" He yelled at the gunner.

"Somewhere behind the head, I think. The neck maybe?" Cas scanned the target, sure enough he could see sunlight shining through a small hole in the tunnel that connected the beast's head to its hull. So they could be pierced after all, he thought. The machine lurched forward again, this time its head swung in his direction, looking for its attacker. Surely, there must be a way to kill it.

"Driver, reverse." The tank gave a lurch as it dug for traction in the rubble. Cas hoped none of the surrounding infantry were huddled behind his track for protection from the horrible artillery barrage falling on the rapidly collapsing Chinese front line. They crashed backwards through the remains of two buildings before they reached the tentative safety of a street behind their position. The driver was pivoting the tank around as surviving infantry ran out of the rubble to clamor aboard his track.

Cas popped his hatch and stood high in the turret, yelling orders that could barely be heard above the raging din and racket of the battle around him. Debris flew like popcorn through the streets, cutting through infantry like shrapnel. The energy barrage was so intense and thick Cas thought for a moment he could walk back to the secondary line on the top of each alien burst.

His decks were covered in Chinese soldiers, almost every one of them wounded. He ordered the driver to move out at top speed. The youngster behind the tank's controls did just that, smashing over cars and through brick walls alike in a random dash to the rear. Cas couldn't blame him; he could barely discern the presence of a road making its way through exploding and collapsed buildings.

Above him strange 'H' shaped fighters dove on the front lines with more of their deadly ordinance. He saw on his flanks, through breaks in the rubble, the dragon-machines were already through the primary defense lines and charging ahead through the city. Here and there his tank passed pockets of Chinese soldiers preparing roadblocks and barricades in their last seconds. Only once did he see another one of his tanks. Like his it was covered in infantry soldiers hitching a ride to perceived safety.

His diesel engine roared down an alleyway and he lost sight of the other tank. There wasn't any time to go back and look for it, let alone organize a defense or a retreat.

It was almost seven in the morning when they reached the secondary line of defense. He stopped the tank and the infantry dismounted rapidly as they looked for cover from the aliens that were on their tails. A field policeman ran up to his track. He saw Cas in the hatch and saluted quickly. "Colonel, all Chinese forces are to fall back to the A30 Expressway immediately!"

Cas hardly knew what to say. That roadway was already past the third and last line of defense that he was aware of. He yelled over the roar of his engine and the battle, "What happened?"

"Dozens of those dragon-machines broke through our lines up north in Hongkou. The 53rd Group Army has been smashed up and if we don't get moving there won't be any of the 31st left!" The field policeman explained.

At the time Colonel Loi Cas wondered if there would be anything left of China after the aliens were done with them.

His tank retreated.

Command Bridge, Imperial-class SD Insertion, Earth Approach

"Deck officer, send for Lieutenant Commander Eiryn." ISB Major Eritech ordered.

"Aye Aye, Captain." The officer of the watch answered to the man he knew only as Commander Volt, before relaying the orders into his C1 personal comlink. Ahead of the two officers, on the other side of the bridge's transparisteel viewport, was the rapidly approaching blue-green world of Earth.

The Insertion was returning to the battle after having her tibanna supply topped off at the Carbon refinery vessel. After the Ploo Squadron had resupplied the Theater Commander Moff Seco had granted the Insertion next in line privileges at the gas pumps, much sooner than her sister warships in the Subterrel Squadron. Eritech had looked vengefully at the near tibanna-depleted Star Destroyers Slash and Flood filled with traitors to the 1st Galactic Empire.

With full heavy turboblaster turrets and surprise on his side, he could have made short work of the two vulnerable warships but he held his hand. Not only was he unsure whether or not his own starship's crew would have slaughtered their brethren in the other two vessels but the true prize would have escaped. The Quill, the flagship of Fleet Admiral Yos, would have been safe in its orbit around distant Mars. The presence of so many other vessels at the Carbon site, barely crossed his mind as he fantasized about doling out Imperial Justice.

He looked out at the planet ahead. He tried to study the landmasses coming into focus as his ship made its approach. He stared down at his personal datapad and reread the order-of-the-day, issued by Moff Seco. Orbital bombardment of Earth's remaining urban centers had been put on hold for the time being. Instead, infrastructure and military targets as well as any target of opportunity were on the menu for the blaster batteries of the Insertion today. In his mind he silently debated the pros and cons of that decision.

An obvious con stared him directly in the face as he glanced down at the white hull of his warship. On the surface of the center port-side sponson, almost a hundred enviro-suited engineers and damage-control party crewbeings worked tirelessly at repairing the damage caused by yesterday's explosion that had cost him his Number 4 Turret. Over-heating over the nation of the People's Republic of China had ruptured delicate fuel transfer equipment and a gas storage silo, ripping the turret from his ship. Nintey-two of his best Imperial Naval Gunners had lost their lives in the explosion.

The Fleet Admiral had never even sent an inquiry or offer of assistance.

Now with only five heavy turbolaser batteries he was heading for the Republic of India on a sub-continent of the largest continental mass of the planet ahead. His first targets were all dams that had either been damaged or bypassed in the ion attack launched a few months ago. He looked at the names of the targets; Srisailam Dam, Dul Hasti, Linganamakki, and Bhandardara to name a few, and thought the Earthlings spent too much time coming up with more and more syllables to put into their nomenclature.

He smiled when he saw the dark scar on the planet ahead. Target West could be made out by the enormous amount of blackened debris and smoke being kicked up and swept out over the blue Pacific. He could see half a dozen star destroyers ahead as well as almost a hundred heavy support vessels contributing to the fleet's operation in that part of the world. According to the invasion plans there was an almost identical fleet somewhere on the other side of the planet pounding the area around Target East. He knew that his own blast missions today would give no small amount of support to the troops landing dirtside in those combat-zones.

"Commander Eiryn reporting as ordered, Captain." The silky female voice tore him from his thoughts. He slowly turned and faced the curvy figure of the Insertion's Gunnery Commander. He took a second to admire her in her tight-fitting gunner's uniform and thought for a second that there certainly was a proper place for female officers in the Imperial Navy, though he would never state where that place was in polite company.

"Welcome, Commander Eiryn. I'd like your opinion on the target package FleetOps sent over this morning." He handed her his datapad. The list was already pulled up on its holographic screen. The Gunner took it and started scanning down the target descriptions provided by fleet intelligence.

"We can handle it, Captain Volt, even if we are down one heavy turbolaser battery. As long as we don't have to spend time reducing any more cities we should have adequate firepower with the remaining heavy cannons for whatever we come across." She sounded confident, despite the loss of so many gunners under her command in yesterday's accident. He wondered how she felt about the accident but her level of professionalism forbade her from showing any emotion. He admired that quality in her.

"What do you think of these 'targets of opportunity' intelligence has briefed us about?" He reached across and pressed the appropriate command on the datapad. Images of Earth-made vehicles scrolled by.

"They look to be mainly primitive classes of hovertrains, larger landspeeders and hovertrucks, mainly of the cargo-hauling classes. Do I read this right that we are to ignore any hovertanks we come across?" She raised a questioning eyebrow at the order written out in holographic aurabesh.

"Um, oh yes, that. Fleet Intelligence believes if we knock out their fuel and supply-carrying vehicles, their troopers in the field will starve and their gas-turbine vehicles will run dry of a carbon-based fuel called petrol, rendering them inert. Moff Seco issued the orders himself and I must say it's a logical proposition."

"Very well, Sir. But it seems to be a bit of overkill for the dual heavies, may I propose we utilize the two forward banks of bow XX-9 heavy turbolaser batteries. The crews can fire independently on any targets they come across."

"The atmosphere won't have any degradation on their effectiveness?" Eritech asked.

"It would be negligible at the range we'll be engaging the aboriginals today, Sir. Any target we find will be sitting mynocks for my turbolasers"

"Fine, then. Tell the gun crews to engage only the necessary targets. I don't want them wasting tibanna on empty stretches of road either. Bridges and overpasses are alright. Everything else they should pass through either yourself or Target Acquisition and Tracking on the Bridge here," His hand motioned to the room about them. "Let's set up some kind of scoring system and the crew with the most targets destroyed can have a night at the Long Jump Casino when we return to Culter City. I'll even pick up the tab." That was one way to buy the crew's loyalty he thought.

"An excellent proposition, Captain." She grinned.

"Fifteen minutes till target areas, Captain." The Deck Officer announced. Eritech looked out the forward viewport and noted the planet Earth looming large in his vantage point. Already he could see his starship was on course over a large, barren ocean in its southern hemisphere. A flurry of activity began in the crew pits below as the crewmen prepared for battle.

"If you'll excuse me, Captain, I should see to my crews and inform them of your proposition. I'm sure it will be an astral hit amongst the Peewo and Beetle-heads down on the gun decks."

She started to replace her black helmet and turn but Eritech continued, "Commander, there are still a number of positions to be filled after last year's surprise attack. Have you ever given any thought to a commission in starship command?" She put her bucket under her arm and cocked her head while she considered his proposition.

With a slight smirk, she said, "Of course, Captain. I hardly had any hope in the old navy back home, but here in the Milky Way who knows what could happen? A girl would certainly be appreciative to anyone that could give her a 'leg up', as it were." Her grin widened, hinting that there was much more meaning than her words suggested.

"Astral. I would love to discuss it later, say over dinner?" He smiled back.

"That sounds wonderful. We will speak then, Captain." She replaced the helmet and saluted.

"Commander." he returned the salute and watched as she turned and walked off the bridge. The nearby Deck Officer just stared at him, trying to restrain a grin, but wisely keeping his mouth shut.

"Prepare for the first target." Eritech ordered the Bridge pit crew.

"First target is in range, Captain. All heavy turbolasers are standing by." The Target Acquisition and Tracking station reported.

"What is the first catch of the day?" He asked the gunnery officer in the pit below.

"Nagarjuna Sagar Dam, Captain. It was hit by the ion attack last year but the earthlings have made repairs to it since then."

"Time to put it to rest then. Put the target up on the Bridge's main holoprojector." The 3D image came to life on the starboard side of the bridge. Tiny, blue-hued earth landspeeders were fleeing the target like ants from a kicked over anthill. "Blast Heavy Turret 6. Two salvos." he ordered.

"Turret 6 blasting. Two salvos." The Targeting officer echoed. Outside his viewport one of his heavy turbolaser turrets fired a volley, followed forty-five seconds later by a second. The holoprojector showed the immediate effect as all four heavy blasts of energized plasma tore into different sections of the dam, releasing millions of liters of water and debris to flood and destroy dirtside towns and cities downstream.

At the same time several smaller caliber plasma blasts fired away from the port-side sponson near the nose of his star destroyer. He checked with the bridge's gunnery officer and verified the destruction of a convoy of Indian fuel haulers on a rural highway. Evidently the port-side gunners were off to an early lead in his little competition.

Within the next hour four more dams and their hydroelectric power plants were destroyed and the spirited competition between the gun decks netted another eighty truck kills and nine bridges dropped. The earthlings below were slowly being blasted back to the Copper Age he mused.

"The city of Cuttack is below us now, Captain." The Deck Officer informed him. Instantly, 3-D holoimages of the metropolis and intelligence about the city of a half million beings scrolled across his holoprojector. Nothing of great importance leapt out at him about the back-world poodoo-heap.

"One broadside with the starboard batteries on their rail yard and then plot us a course to our next target."

"Aye Aye, Captain." The deck officer once again echoed his orders to the crew below, while outside the three heavy turbolaser turrets eradicated another earth target. On the surface of the Indian city, thousands perished as the rolling stock in the railyard, filled with munitions for the Indian Army, exploded like a fission bomb. The eruption took a quarter of the city with it. High above the destruction, the Insertion was already moving on to its next target area.

The morning passed in much the same manner. The contest below decks racked up a score well into the hundreds, with each point representing a truck or cargo carrier that was no longer hauling freight below. Eritech stayed on top of his own warship's operations but couldn't resist peering out the viewport at other nearby Star Destroyers going through their own target packages. Though suffering through the handicap of being one turret down he was determined to stay ahead of his rivals.

"Captain, we are being hailed by the Wilderness. It's Moff Seco himself, Sir." The crewman at the HyperRad station informed him.

"Put it up on my holoimager." The 3D visual image of an Indian military base in the foothills of the Himalayas changed to one of the Theater Commander. The blue image was dressed in the proper white uniform of an Imperial Grand Admiral. Eritech smiled at the showmanship that was obviously aimed at the Fleet Admiral back on Mars.

"Captain Volt, I hear congratulations are in order. From what I understand the Insertion is keeping pace with the rest of the fleet despite your unfortunate set-back during yesterday's operations."

"Thank you, Sir. We are finally paying the Earth Scum back for what they did to the Insertion last year." The fact that he stood on the deck of a newly constructed bridge testified to the ferocity of that attack. The deaths of over four thousand of her crew gave the remaining sailors aboard the Star Destroyer reason to seek revenge.

"Yes, I have been watching your progress with great interest. You have paid the enemy back several thousand times over by my own estimates."

"It has been an honor and pleasure, Sir." Eritech's chest swelled with pride. Of all the officers of treachorous Tarkin's Fist the Ploo governor was the one that still seemed to retain some small amount of the proper Imperial spirit in Eritech's eyes.

"I was curious to see if you would join me aboard the Wilderness today for lunch. There are several things about the campaign dirtside that I would like to hear your opinion on." Moff Seco politely asked what he could have simply ordered.

"Of course, Sir. My shuttle can be at your location in an hour. My crews are competent enough to continue with their assigned blasting missions without me for an hour or two." Naturally suspicious of the Imperial Navy, Eritech successfully disguised his mistrust of the invitation. Though Moff Seco may show signs of having the proper Imperial fervor, as a member of Tarkin's Fist he was still a traitor to the Emperor.

"Excellent, the Wilderness will be. . ." The blue hologram turned to check some data off-screen, ". . . over the city of Perth, on the big southern island continent, in one hour. I will send you the coordinates. I look forward to meeting you, Captain Volt"

"It will be an honor for me as well, Sir. I shall see you in one hour." Eritech saluted as Moff Seco cut the transmission off, his blue image being replaced by the next target on his vessel's gunnery list. "Have my pilot prepare my shuttle. I will be away from the Insertion for several hours. I want this ship to continue its blasting missions until I return. Understood?"

"Aye Aye, Captain." The Deck Officer responded. Several crewmen in the pit below stirred to carry out his orders. The undercover spy turned on his heels and headed for the turbolifts to the flight hanger. Within minutes the Insertion's Lambda shuttle was streaking towards his meeting with the Theater Commander. Eritech spent the time going over progress reports on the repairs that were ongoing back at the Insertion's Turret 4. His anger still simmered under the surface at the indignation of being the only Star Destroyer to take casualties, not once, but twice in the past year.

Eritech realized he was distracting himself with mundane reports so as not to have to deal with the fact that he had no idea what he'd be walking into on the Wilderness, even though he still had the supreme confidence that he'd be able to handle anything the Imperial Governor threw at him.

Ahead of him, the ISD Wilderness momentarily ceased its bombardment of the western Australian coast and dropped its particle deflector shields as his shuttle came in for a landing in its brightly lit hanger bay.
Eritech was surprised when he walked down the boarding ramp and was greeted by an honor guard of twelve Imperial Marines led by no less than Admiral Neptu, the commander of the Ploo Sector Fleet and Moff Seco's second in command. Eritech whipped off a proper salute at the bottom of the ramp.

"Greetings, Captain Volt. An honor to finally meet you. Moff Seco is expecting you on the Flag Bridge. If you'll follow me."

"Of course, Admiral, please lead the way." Eritech fell into stride with Neptu as the marines moved into position behind them as they made their way through the interior of the massive Star Destroyer. Although being the same ship-class as his own Insertion, Eritech could have found his way easily enough. The only difference between the two ships was the presence of an Admiral's Flag Bridge located above the vessel's normal Command Bridge. Gaining access to the heavily guarded area would have been impossible without the presence of Admiral Neptu. The guards fell aside as the two men entered the lair of Moff Seco.

Even when shown the proper honors that befit his position a lifetime of training under some of the most sinister instructors of the ISB insured that Eritech maintained his guard.

The room itself appeared much like a working bridge except for the furniture and carpeting that reminded Eritech of holoimages he had once seen of the Emperor's old chancellery offices on Imperial Center. Several huge Holomaps in the room showed scenes of the Earth campaign beneath them. Moff Seco rose from a chair near the room's large viewport. The entry door closed, leaving the three men to hold their meeting in private. An R-10 Household Droid quietly brewed a pot of Karlini tea.

"Captain Volt, a great pleasure to finally meet you. Please, come join the Admiral and I for a cup of tea
or a cup of caf if you'd prefer." Moff Seco indicated several chairs in a semi-circle near the viewport. Each man made his way to one of them.

"Thank you, Sir. Tea is fine" Eritech replied as he sat down and took an offered cup from the expensive service droid. His gaze stayed frozen on the Ploo Moff as if he were stalking a circling nexu.

"Tell me, Captain, what is your opinion of our operations currently underway dirtside?" Admiral Neptu asked.

Eritech carefully weighed his answers. He knew scuttlebutt amongst the fleet was that Moff Seco hadn't exactly admired the Fleet Admiral's plan. In fact he had labeled it too timid and lacking in the proper Imperial spirit of conquest. Eritech couldn't find fault in that arguement. "From what I am hearing, the operations in Target East and West are being handled superbly by you and your staff. The aboriginal near-humans there haven't got a clue about what hit them."

"Do you think we'll hold those Target cities?" Moff Seco inquired.

"Of course, Sir. When has the Stormtrooper Corps ever lost anything?" he replied easily.

"What do you think of the orbital bombardment yesterday?" Neptu asked, Eritech suspected that this was a carefully choreographed interview by the two high-ranking Imperials. He advised himself to be cautious in his answers and not to give too much away before he knew where their loyalties lay.

"Honestly, Sir, I think it was too short and the earthlings had too much time to prepare their defenses and abandon their cities. I trust you read my After-Action Report on the Chinese laser weapon that attacked my vessel yesterday."

"Yes, it was troubling. I wonder what these Terrans will develop once they get a taste of our technology. As you know I argued for total occupation of the Earth or a Base Delta Zero instead of the Fleet Admiral's more timid plan. . ."

"But My Moff, where would we have gotten the troops to. . ." Neptu interupted, but ceased when a momentary fire in Moff Seco's eyes cut him off. Eritech felt an instant respect for a leader that could inspire such fear in a subordinate.

". . . As for the bombardment, we had hoped for at least a twenty percent kill-off of earth's indigenous population, but due to the Fleet Admiral's 'mishandling' of operations, we are estimating we only eliminated about ten to fifteen percent. The ones we missed will no doubt be taking up arms against our troopers on the ground. The Insertion's Legion is dirtside is it not?" Moff Seco asked.

"Uh, yes Sir, the 395th Legion was part of the second wave landed at Target East this morning. Reports are they are pushing inland quite well."

"Excellent. Tell me, have you been keeping abreast of happenings on Mars in the past week?" Moff Seco asked before casually taking a sip of his tea.

"Not too much, Sir. The Insertion keeps me busy enough. Are you referring to all the name changing going on?"

"Precisely. Mars this, Martian that. All of it lunacy. Have you heard that Fleet Admiral Yos is planning a coronation for himself and his young daughter?" Eritech shook his head and Moff Seco shared coolly, "He's going to be our new Emperor."

Rage boiled inside the ISB agent. "I had heard that the little bra... I mean, the Chief Ambassador, has been addressed as a princess by the beings of Mars but I hadn't dared to believe the Fleet Admiral would dare such vile decadence. It is an affront to Palpatine and the New Order. It is destroying what we are as a Navy, It's, it's. . ." He stammered unable to wrap his mind around this shocking news. For a moment he feared that he might have given himself away in the heat of anger and chided himself on such an uncontrolled burst of emotion.

"Oh, I am in total agreement. If we lose sight of what we are, who's to say what we will become? Let me ask you something else. How old do you think the Fleet Admiral is?" Moff Seco pondered. Eritech wondered if he were being reeled in slowly.

"I'm not sure, somewhere in his sixties or early seventies I believe." He regained his composure, a momentary thought of being played by the crafty Moff was pushed aside.

"Quite right, and if something were to happen to our soon-to-be Martian Emperor, where would the balance of power on Mars lay?"

Eritech considered the question. The obvious answer was whoever still had control of Tarkin's Fist. "The Fleet, Sir."

"Excellent, it is with no doubt that the Ploo Squadron would follow me anywhere, but what of the Anoat, Kuati, or Subterrelian Squadrons. A man who could bring me the vessels of the Subterrel would find me to be a very appreciative friend." Moff Seco suggested, and Eritech, though still distrustful, had no difficulty reading through the lines to the heart of the Moff's proposal. "He could in fact, find himself in high placement for returning this new Martian civilization to the Imperial fold."

After years of distrust towards the officers of the Imperial Navy his guard finally dropped as Eritech swallowed the offered bait.

The ISB spy sat back in his lounge chair and considered the task being set before him. Of course it would have to be a secret, and one they would have to act on sooner than later. No point in waiting around for the Fleet Admiral to pass away naturally. Operations Piper and Stork, currently underway on Earth, will only strengthen the Fleet Admiral's position in the long run on Mars. Also there was the issue that the Subterrel Squadron would never follow him as long as the Quill still sailed. Suddenly a solution popped into his mind, as he thought of what was hidden under his bunk back aboard the Insertion.

"I think you may be speaking to that man." Eritech said.

"Amazing, I knew when I heard about you from my old friend Armand Isard, that you could be a man that could be trusted. That's why I suggested your involvement with our Moff here." Neptu stated, indicating Seco.

Eritech's heart froze. How had the Director of Imperial Intelligence in the Home Galaxy heard about him? A predatory grin spread slowly across Moff Seco's face. "Captain Volt, you are Major Tolos Eritech of the Imperial Security Bureau, are you not?"

"I, I, no I. . ." Eritech stammered again. His mind raced. How did they know? Why hadn't he brought a sidearm with him, or his suicide teeth? The enemy in Fleet Intelligence would never get anything out of him, he firmly told himself. Wait, why hadn't Moff Seco and Admiral Neptu turned him over?

"It's alright Major. You are among friends. Admiral Neptu was warned by Isard only a few hours before the 'big jump', and then he was only given a name, your name, as a possible mole or saboteur. The presence of a mauler virus, your placement on the Insertion, and the Bureau of Operation's own investigation, all led Admiral Neptu and myself to your doorstep. It has been with our assistance that the investigation has been hindered time and time again." Seco explained.

"I assume I am in debt to you gentlemen. I believe we have an understanding as to what price I must pay for your continued assistance."

"The Subterrel Squadron, with or without the Quill." Neptu stated.

"Indeed, I believe a man of your skills can take care of both of those birds with one stone." Seco suggested.

"No doubt, Sir. I have something in mind. You just need to be ready when the time is right."

"Oh, rest assured, I will be." Seco smiled. They spent the rest of the lunch discussing the details of their treacherous enterprise. An hour later Eritech was rocketing back to the Insertion aboard his shuttle.

He was still lost in thought when he entered his quarters later that evening. He was torn from his distraction by a noise from the bedroom. When he entered, Lieutenant Commander Eiryn lay across his sheets, dressed in a silky outfit that left little to the imagination. "I thought you'd like to discuss my new 'position' in a more intimate situation."

"Oh, yes?" He smirked. "I believe we have many future 'positions' to discuss tonight."

He took her in his arms as the door to the room closed behind him.

[Agent Fisher]

Dude, if it's not your story, stop posting it. You've already linked it in the recommendation thread, that's enough.

[Kalanidavidg]

Waikiki Beach, Honolulu, Hawaii, NAU, Earth

The sun-baked, white sand of Waikiki had kept him warm throughout the night after his worn, shell-shocked body had finally collapsed from exhaustion. Jason Bogan chased the sleep from his eyes as he slowly brought himself up to a sitting position. He leaned on his elbows and stared at the rising sun on the eastern horizon.

Several seabirds flew over the dazzling blue Pacific, diving for their breakfast amongst Hawaii's native fish. The slowly dawning sun promised another warm day in the Aloha state. Jason realized that he had only been asleep for a few hours before awakening and being greeted by this scene straight out of a heavenly dream of paradise. He looked to his left and noted his two friends sleeping soundly on the sand next to him.

He shifted his perspective and slowly took in the several hundred other people sleeping along the beach. The smell of smoke filled the air, covering the scents of salt and sand that normally accompanied the beach. Then he remembered everything as ash lazily rained down around him.

He scooped up a handful of sand absentmindedly and quickly realized it wasn't gritty sand, but mostly soft gray ash. Instead of falling through his fingers it became airborne, flittering away in the breeze.
He stiffly stood up and turned around to be greeted by a scene straight out of hell. Honolulu burned. From Diamond Head in the south-east to Ewa Beach well to the west of him giant, rolling columns of smoke and ash rose into the sky. In front of him the Queen Kapiolani Hotel was a smoldering, collapsed bonfire. Only a few citizens were battling the blaze with buckets from the ocean. The local fire department was nowhere to be seen. They must be needed more urgently somewhere else, he figured, or they were no longer amongst the survivors still sheltering on the island of Oahu. A thick haze of smoke hung over the city and the only thing saving him from the need to cover his mouth and nose was a breeze that came in from the ocean and scoured the air.

A thunderous roar rolled in from Pearl City to the north-west and caught his attention. Pearl Harbor was still a mass of black plumes from the fires at the military facilities there, but in between the pillars of oily smoke he noted several energy filled plasma bursts still falling on the remains of Hawaii's defenders. The blasts reminded him of those that had fallen on the stricken city the day before from that diamond-shaped alien UFO mothership that had bombarded them.

Throughout the night the alien artillery barrage had grown and grown. Some National Guard and NAU Army soldiers had told him and his friends that the aliens had taken the rest of the Hawaiian Island chain and were now shelling the populous island with their long-range artillery, presumably as a prelude for an invasion. Then before more questions could be asked most of the soldiers had received orders and pulled back into the naval facilities of Pearl Harbor.

It was the area undergoing the heaviest bombardment from the enemy and the logical place to fend off an invasion. After all hadn't that been the area the Japanese had bombed in World War II?

A tearing noise from the Punchbowl volcano slope tore his mind from the devastation in front of him. A streak of rockets roared off of some kind of American rocket-launcher up there. Jason was glad someone was still able to hit back at the aliens. He followed their white, smoky trails as they disappeared to the south-east. A moment later an energy explosion crashed down on the spot the rockets had been firing from. Jason hoped those soldiers up there on the mountainside had had the sense to move out of there before the counter-attack slammed in.

Jason nudged both of his friends in the ribs with his foot in an effort to wake them. Eddie blinked awake first. Rick moaned, "A few more minutes, Mom."

"Wake up. Sun is coming up." Jason informed him as his stomach grumbled. "We need to find some food."
Eddie sat in the sand and held his arms outwards, studying them. The three of them were covered in sand and white ash from the burning apocalypse behind them. "We look like ghosts."

"Those don't" Rick sat up and pointed out to sea. Jason's heart stopped as he saw what his friend was pointing at. Thousands of black dots on the horizon were growing larger and larger by the second. He somehow knew it wasn't an on-rushing rescue for the stricken island. Spilling out of Pearl City, the alien's artillery barrage suddenly reached an ear-shattering crescendo.

The three students flattened out on the sand as the barrage walked across the city's beachfront. Rick was screaming. Eddie tried to dig a hole underneath his prone body. Jason just kept his eyes on the approaching unidentified flying objects as the closest ones formed into 'H' shapes. Within seconds the blue machines flashed low across the beach heading inland. Jason could hear the high-pitched whine of their engines as they raced by.

Squatter 'H' and 'M' shaped fighters roared over the dumb-struck young men next. Almost directly overhead, one of the aircraft released a glowing blue ball of energy. Jason's eyes watched in slow-motion as the craft's forward momentum carried the ball a block inland. When the blue glow-ball hit the ground it exploded more powerfully than anything Jason had ever felt. His whole body was lifted up off of the sand and slammed back onto the beach by the blast's concussion.

His ears felt clogged for a few seconds and he wasn't sure how long it was before he regained the breath that was knocked from his lungs. Suddenly both of his ears popped and all the sound in the world returned. Explosions from the first wave of bombers rocked across the stricken city. Debris and pieces of what Jason hoped weren't other human beings rained down across the beach. The hundreds of people on the beach started running in every direction. Some of them splashed into the ocean while others charged back into the hell that was once Honolulu.

His mind barely registered the line of glowing bombs that fell from another alien craft as a second wave of bombers appeared overhead. One of the red and white 'M'-shaped assault craft dropped its stick of explosives early and its load of bombs hurled at the white sandy beach still clogged with refugees and three terrified students from the east coast.

"Run!" Jason heard someone scream realizing a moment later that he was the one yelling.

Eddie was up and running towards the deceptive shelter of the nearby seawall when the first bomb hit the surf, sending up a geyser of mud and water that soared hundreds of feet into the air. The next series of impacts sent sand and body parts flying in every direction. Jason reached over to pull Rick along and was surprised to be tugging on dead-weight. "Rick?"

He pulled his prone friend over on his back. Rick's eyes stared lifelessly towards the sky as sand continued to rain down on them. Jason looked up and down the body looking for a wound, but was surprised not to locate blood seeping from anywhere on his friend's body. Jason barely realized tears were streaming down his face. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry. . ." He cried over and over again.

"Oh my God?" He heard Eddie stammer behind him. Evidently he had realized he wasn't being followed and returned to their side, "Is he. . ."

"Yes, he must have been. . .must have been hit by the concussion from one of those bomb blasts." He waved his arm at the bombers receding into the city. A block inland one of the alien 'M' bombers dropped a precision bomb on an anti-aircraft gun that had opened up on the attackers. It had been the first resistance to the airborne assault Jason had seen, but his mind barely registered it over the grief he was feeling at the loss of his friend.

"Have you tried CPR?" Eddie asked, fear breaking his voice.

"No, I don't know it. Do you?"

"Not really, just what you see on TV and Health class but I've never tried it. We should go find help." Eddie started to rise but looked down the beach at the dozens of wounded and dying along its length and then stopped, not knowing what to do next.

"Stay. . . stay, we need to stay together." Jason gasped between sobs, and Eddie just nodded in response. They both sat in the sand beside their dead friend and wept out of fear and loss. They had seen enough death in the past day to last them the rest of their lives. This had been the first time anyone close to either of them had ever been lost.

Overhead the mysterious 'H' fighters finished off the last anti-aircraft defenses of the city, while the squatter 'H' fighters ripped apart the convoys of National Guard and Army units pouring out of Pearl City. The defense of the Hawaiian Islands was broken.

The appearance of hundreds of alien aircraft streaming towards Waikiki beach tore the boys from their grief. These new types of craft were as big as houses and reminded Jason of helicopters without the spinning blades. On the sides of the crafts' hulls he saw bubble pods bristling with alien guns.

The huge craft held their fire as they descended on the beach. The first formation of them landed on the sand while the following waves made for landing points further into the city. One of them touched down no more than twenty meters from Eddie and Jason. Its side doors were wide open and a door gunner pointed a weird looking machine gun in their direction. Jason held his breath in what he figured was his last moment on Earth, but the gunner just kept them in his gun-sights as he provided cover for the white-clad soldiers pouring out of the crafts' doors.

Jason thought they were soldiers, though they could have been robots. It was hard to tell, though they certainly moved like people did. The alien soldiers moved in rushes as they charged past the survivors on the beach and across the beach's boardwalk. Each group provided cover as another group advanced to the next cover, and then their roles would reverse. The robot-soldiers carried short, stubby-looking, black sub-machine guns, from what Jason could tell. After the first rush cleared the beach, squads of the soldiers carrying much heavier weapons followed in their wake.

Another alien craft landed further down the beach. This time the new arrival detached an odd looking, six-legged walking bug-tank with a wicked-looking cannon mounted on its upper deck. The carrier craft roared off into the sky while the armored behemoth continued to lumber inland, ready to provide fire-support for the white camouflaged soldiers. Jason was just glad the beastly-looking contraption was moving away from him.

Suddenly two amazingly fast, flying motorcycles roared up to a group of alien soldiers that had the appearance of a command group. Less armored aliens rode the bikes and handed something to a soldier that looked like he was commanding the invasion. Jason literally blinked and the flying motorcycles were gone again.

A line of alien soldiers was making its way down the beach. Jason quickly realized they were rounding up survivors and herding them into a containment area encircled by a number of soldiers standing guard. Jason stood to run, tugging on Eddie's shirt sleeve as he rose, but another identical line of aliens was coming from the opposite direction. The only way they could escape was into the surf and neither of them was up for swimming to the Californias.

Instead the two students stood guard over their fallen friend as the first screening line reached them. "You two, hands up!" one of the 'robot-soldiers' ordered through an electric-sounding speaker on its helmet. A pair of aliens took up flanking positions on the two students as the rest of the line of aliens moved down the beach checking for more survivors amongst the bodies on the sand.

A second soldier with circle marks on his shoulder armor and a thin circle on his helmet bent down and checked Rick's body. "This one's gone."

"This one is wounded." The first soldier stated, as he jabbed the muzzle of his gun into Jason's chest. The alien pointed at Jason's arm. For the first time he looked at his own arm and saw that he was bleeding from a jagged opening across his deltoid muscle. He hadn't even noticed he had been hit by anything in the shock of the invasion and the death of his friend.

The second soldier rose from Rick's body and stepped over. "It's alright, I'm a medic. Let me look at your arm."

"You're human?" Eddie spouted out, before Jason could ask the same.

"Yeah, what did you expect? Clankers?" Jason had no idea what the medic meant and wasn't given a chance to ask as the alien gripped his arm. He took something out of one of the canisters on his belt and aimed it at Jason's wound. A cool spray made contact with the wound and turned into a strange, gloopy gel. He was dumb-founded as the gel hardened into a weird type of dressing. "That spray-bandage will hold for a day or so. Don't mess with it too much and the trace amount of bacta in it should have you healed up by then." Jason had no idea what any of that meant but nodded in mock understanding.

The other soldier nudged him in the chest again with his weapon while the last trooper pushed Eddie ahead of him. "Now get moving Abo, let's keep your hands on your heads." Both of the MIT students clasped their hands on top of their heads as they were led down the beach with another dozen prisoners. After ten minutes of walking they came upon an assembly area on the boardwalk.

Hundreds of other native Hawaiians and tourists were gathered there, with hundreds more being led out of the ruins of Honolulu by what seemed to be an endless army of the white-clad aliens. Sounds of the peetering battle seemed to be receding further inland as the alien army continued to engage the last of Hawaii's defenders.

The prisoners were lined up single file before entering a strange, razor-wire encircled enclosure. Several aliens were patting down the prisoners before forcing them to enter. Jason noted a large pile of shoes and personal belongings to one side of the line as he neared the front. Eventually it was his turn to be searched, and an alien performed a rather intimate pat-down of his body. They made him remove his shoes, his small MP3 player, his wallet and ID cards, and his belt, all of which were pitched into the growing pile of discarded items. Eddie fared no better, except that he also lost a gold chain which was pocketed by the alien performing his search. He noted they were taking the rings and earrings from the prisoners and putting them in separate bins from everything else they removed from the humans around him. He heard quite a few complaints from people upset about losing their wedding rings. One stubborn woman lost a finger when she refused to cooperate and that stopped any dissention for the moment.
A man nearby suddenly jumped one of the aliens and knocked him to the ground, attempting to rip the alien's armor from his suit. Several other guards jumped on the prisoner and severely beat him with their rifle butts until he was a bloody mess. Suddenly an alien rode up on a small, bipedal walker. Jason could tell by the way the guards saluted the newcomer that he was some type of officer. "You, you, you, and you." The officer pointed at four random prisoners in the line. Each of the indicated Hawaiians was pulled out of the column of prisoners and roughly man-handled next to the prisoner that had attacked the guard. Without a word several guards raised their weapons and laser light bullets cut down the helpless Americans.

"Phasers!" Jason gasped.

"Let this be a lesson for all of you. Attack a stormtrooper and five of you die. Kill a stormtrooper and twenty-five of you die. This is what you deserve for resisting the Empire." The man atop the robotic-mount turned his vehicle away and bounded across the beach. Jason was too awe-struck by the senseless murder to resist. The guards pushed him ahead as they continued with their search of the prisoners.

Inside the razor-wire compound he stuck close to Eddie. A weird mist was being sprayed down upon the prisoners as they rested on the beach. Eddie spoke up and yelled at a pair of alien soldiers outside of the wire. "Hey excuse me, ET Guy! What is this stuff you're spraying us with? DDT or something?"

The stormtroopers, as Jason had heard the officer call them, turned to Eddie. "It's just disinfectant spray you filthy Abo." Several other stormtroopers seemed to be laughing under their helmets at their buddy's comment. "Can't have all your kriffing diseases reaching Mars." The two soldiers turned their backs to Eddie and ignored him from their side of the wire.

From the entrance to the enclosure, the line of prisoners snaked across the beach and back into the city. Jason witnessed two more executions as newly arrived people tried to assault the guards. Near the start of the line a group of human prisoners was being separated by the stormtroopers. Their moans and cries are what first drew Jason's attention to them. Heavily bandaged and burned individuals lay untreated in the white sand that was rapidly being stained red by their blood-loss. The aliens had a few men standing guard over them but for the most part they were ignoring them.

"They're letting them die." Jason observed.

"They look like our most heavily wounded. It doesn't look like the aliens want to waste anything on them." Eddie answered as Jason absent-mindedly scratched his spray-bandage. A woman nearby called to the guards that she was a doctor and could help but the aliens silently ignored her.

Just as Jason was starting to wonder if the aliens cared about the wounded and dying at all three floating stretchers guided by their medics came levitating out of the smoking city ruins. Two of the wounded aliens on the stretchers had their helmets off as their comrades led over to one of the house-sized flying landing craft. Jason could have sworn the two soldiers he saw were twins, if not brothers.
What appeared to be highly trained medical corpsmen worked on the wounded stormtroopers as they loaded them into the craft. An alien ground crewman with orange guidance cones in his hands signaled for the craft to take off while the pilot made some kind of spinning hand gesture from the cockpit. Jason watched with his mouth agape as the flying ambulance shot off for orbit; creating a sonic boom over the devastated beach.

"I hope they bleed out in route." Someone in the crowd observed.

"And then burn in Hell for what they did here." Someone else added with hate dripping from every word.
A whine from the ocean brought his attention back to the Pacific. A line of tri-winged white shuttles made their approach towards the concentration of Earth prisoners. The armored ground crewman guided them in with his flashing cones. The first in line made a slow approach, raising its lower two wings up like an old WWII navy fighter, before making a soft landing on the beach.

A gate in the enclosure opened and the guards there started pulling people out of the wire and onto the shuttle. The surge of closely-packed humanity carried Eddie and Jason towards the entrance but just as they arrived the gate closed in their faces. On board the shuttle the prisoners were packed in tightly like sardines. Jason heard a groan as the loading ramp was raised again and the prisoners were squeezed in even tighter.

The first shuttle departed, replaced quickly by a second. Once again the loading procedure repeated and the gate reopened, this time the surge carried the two young men into the shuttle as well. Jason was packed in so tightly he could barely breathe. Eddie was a few yards away but there was no way they could move to reach each other. The ramp closed again, pitching the cargo compartment into blackness only pierced by a pair of windows along the hull of the craft. A large steel door separated the prisoners from whatever flight crewmen the shuttle had.

Jason felt the sudden upward acceleration of the craft as it rocketed away from its launch point. His biggest fear was what lay ahead at the shuttle's final destination. Stories of alien abductions raced through his mind, interrupted by fears of never seeing home or his family again, or worse as he thought of poor Rick, left to rot on a far away beach.

"We're in space!" Someone near the windows exclaimed after a minute or two of travel. Wild shock and speculation ran through the tightly packed crowd. Jason wanted badly to move to one of the windows for a better view but found he was firmly stuck in place. For a moment he wondered why he wasn't feeling any weightlessness from being in orbit before figuring the aliens used some form of artificial gravity like they did on the Star Trek movies.

Forty-five minutes later his legs had started to go numb from lack of circulation when the shuttle's engines seemed to quiet down just before there was a jarring bump as the craft landed. Jason tried to swallow his fears as an unnatural hush came across the captives. Loud metallic thumps and noises came from outside the alien spaceship. The ramp on the rear of the shuttle dropped and the release of pressure on the prisoners pulled them towards the opening.

Jason and Eddie followed the mass of captives into a huge, brightly-lit hanger bay. Dozens of other shuttles and other types of small spacecraft were parked around the hanger but what drew Jason's immediate attention was some kind of force-field over the door to the hanger. Outside of the giant doorway he was shocked to see the cratered terrain of the moon, and he was physically awed at the sight of the Earth hanging in the void of space.

Eddie tried to say something but was pushed forward by more of those stormtrooper guards from Hawaii. Ahead of them thousands of his fellow prisoners were being processed by aliens in what appeared to be yellow HazMat suits. Jason quickly caught up to his friend in an effort to stick together as the captives were sorted into lines.

The first station was a series of changing booths. An alien in a bio-hazard suit ordered everyone to change into red overall utility suits. Jason thought about refusing until he witnessed the guards utilize a new weapon on a hapless prisoner. The guards here were armed with long tazer sticks that sent painful electric shocks through whoever they touched. By the way a stricken prisoner was twitching on the deck of the hanger in intense pain, Jason quickly figured the sticks were more than effective.

He ducked in a booth and quickly changed into the utility suit. Once again emerging, an alien ordered him to dispose of his old clothes in a growing laundry heap outside of the changing booths. Eddie fell into place behind him as they were put into another line. The disinfection mist was liberally sprayed on the prisoners by aliens with chemical backpack sprayers as the boys were ushered towards the next station.

The next check-point involved several aliens that held up medical devices that took Jason's vital signs before placing him before a robot with the appearance of a trashcan-spider hybrid. Guards stood over each prisoner as the robots took blood and fluid samples from the earthlings. It was a painful and intrusive experience as Jason was poked, prodded and drained of several fluids. Several prisoners continued to scream throughout the entire invasive process despite being shocked several times by the guard's stun sticks.

Jason figured his own examination lasted no more than five minutes but when he looked around again Eddie was nowhere to be seen. He swiveled his head rapidly around the hanger until he noticed his friend being led to another enclosure at the far side of the hanger. His friend was placed inside a ring of glowing bars of energy with dozens of other hapless looking prisoners. Jason tapped an alien in a yellow suit on the shoulder, a guard approached with his tazer stick, but before he could use it, the alien technician asked, "What is it?"

"Those prisoners, over there. My friend is with them. I was wondering why they're separated." Jason asked as humbly as he could.

The alien looked to where he had indicated. "Those beings? Those are the diseased. They're going back to Earth with the returning shuttles. You earthling scum can waste your own resources on them." The alien turned back to its original task.

Jason was in shock. He had known Eddie since they were freshmen together. Yes, his friend was diabetic, but he took insulin to maintain and watched what he ate. Other than that he was the healthiest guy he knew. He suddenly felt completely alone as he realized he had just lost a second friend that day.

With a sudden push the line surged forward. Guards menacingly waved their tazer sticks at him and he moved along as well, quickly losing sight of his last friend.

Aliens in bio-suits continued to examine him. They scanned his retinas, took more blood samples, examined his teeth, took his fingerprints, mapped his DNA, and even painfully took a bone marrow sample from his shoulder blade. The oddest part of the process was when he was placed on a gurney in front of a human-looking robot. The next thing he knew he had been knocked out.

He woke up again with a sharp pain in the back of his neck. He reached back there and felt a tiny scar and bandage. He was forced to stand again by the alien guards. He was then made to re-enter another line of prisoners. All of them dressed in the red utility suits and sporting new tiny bandages on the backs of their necks.

Hour after hour passed until he reached the far end of the hanger. Here the aliens were no longer dressed in the yellow HazMat suits and he got his first look at them. Most of them appeared human but he couldn't keep his eyes off of a strange, blue alien who appeared to have two tentacles growing from his head. He gasped when he spotted a werewolf, a walrus-man, a hammer-head shark man, and a tiny rat guy amongst the aliens. They all were dressed in a gray uniform, much like their human counter-parts.

When Jason approached their station he was outfitted with some heavy duty boots, a thick jacket, a stocking cap, several pairs of thick socks, and some utility gloves. Looking at the issued gear Jason figured he was being sent somewhere chilly.

At the end of the hanger was a massive, cylindrical alien transport. He joined a long line of prisoners being forced to embark on the craft. He walked up the gangplank and was led down a long hallway to a giant hold. Jason figured that the empty space was about the size of a football stadium and it was slowly being filled with captive humans.

Jason found a space against one of the far walls and made himself comfortable. A short nap later he was awakened by a public address system echoing through the hold. Jason noted the hold was almost filled with prisoners by this point as he stared out at a sea of red-suited humanity.

The announcer bellowed, "Welcome aboard the Imperial Cargo Ship Chain. Next port of call, Mars." Jason gasped along with the thousands around him.

'Shimi's' Dress Boutique, Avenue of the Empress Teta's Fields, Culter City, Mars

Phasma Yos was still having difficulty coming to grips with her sudden change of fortune. Here she stood being fitted by a team of seamstresses in the finest gown shop along the most expensive shopping district of Culter City, when twenty-four hours ago she had been a prisoner of war and had killed her first being in cold blood.

The young girl closed her eyes tightly. The memory of the earthling Sarah's head exploding upon impact with her blaster bolt was ingrained in her mind. A slight tug on her dress from the tailors taking her measurements brought her back into the present and she reopened her eyes. She gazed at herself in one of the many full-length mirrors set up along one wall of the boutique, amazed at the simple beauty of the dress they were creating around her.

She wore an intricate, pastel blue, off-the-shoulder gown. The bodice was decorated with diamond shapes and the long, sheer sleeves with Jorallan pearls. The gown's hem was adorned with intricate needlework that continued even onto the long, fan-like train that spread out behind her. On her head she wore a diadem decorated with krayt-dragon pearls. Her hair was tied up into two buns, one on each side of her head, held in place with a delicate, purple headpiece.

She wondered how many months or even years she would have to save her 2nd Lieutenant's wages to pay for a dress like this, and yet the owner of Shimi's was giving it to her for free. The only stipulation was that she wore the dress to her father's coronation in two days. She had made the same deal with the most preeminent Meshakian jewelers of Culter City.

Shimi herself helped with the tiniest details of the gown, supervising her apprentice seamstresses in the alterations that were currently taking place. As she supervised, the golden-haired Bothan talked. "Of course, as you may well know, we had samples of the most cutting-edge designs from all across the home galaxy before we all undertook the 'Big Jump'. The Good Moff Kuat and I go way back, and my dear Kuantus was able to secure for me samples of what passes for fashion on that backwater Earth planet." Shimli giggled at her own joke.

"I declare, I used to think we had lived under Palpatine's 'Imperial' fashion sense for too long but the draconian tastes of these Earthers seems downright dull by anyone's comparison. I dare say a designer would have to be a little mad to want to copy any of their designs." The Bothan seemed to love the sound of her own voice but she had lost Phasma at the word, 'copy'.

Phasma was a clone. The very thought haunted her and she relived the moment the earthling torturer had revealed it to her over and over. After her rescue and reunification with her father Captain Yutu of the Bureau of Operations had quietly run a test of her DNA that had confirmed the allegation that had so shocked the Earthlings.

Yutu had promised to keep her inquiry under wraps. After all, the Intelligence Director had told her, the Fleet Admiral must have had his own reasons for keeping the secret. Phasma had spent a lot of time since her return wondering what those reasons were.

Other than having no clue who her clone template or 'Mother' was, Yutu wanted to wash his hands of the whole affair, as he didn't want to risk raising her father's wrath, after he had so recently come under the Fleet Admiral's good graces once again. Yutu had offered what he could and tried to evade looking any deeper out of fear but she pushed him to continue.

Her whole life seemed to be a giant lie, told and retold a thousand times by her father until everyone took it as truth. A truth she would likely have to cover up or risk public scandal for herself and her father. Since the end of the Clone Wars the clones from Kamino has been slowly replaced and pushed out of the higher ranks Imperial Service, viewed by COMPNOR as not good for being anything more than stormtroopers. True, there had been the odd exceptions, like Admiral Bacara and his clone corps here on Mars and Earth, but they were an unlikely few. Her status as a female had already hurt her chances in the Imperial Navy. If it were known she was a clone as well she could kiss her dream of a high-ranking naval career good-bye forever.

She still hadn't come to terms with her father's coronation in a few days or how she was going to broach the subject of her cloning with him. Her father's long absences in command of the Quill had fostered a strong sense of independence within her. Her decision for now was to find out as much as she could beforehand and then approach him when she felt the time was right.

When the Quill's shuttle had dropped her off this morning at the Tarkin Tower landing pads she had immediately started making inquiries of her own. Strangely, calls to Arkanian Microtechnologies, the top agricultural and livestock cloners in Culter City, had gone unanswered so far.

She had reviewed her Father's career on the Martian HoloNet for any signs of who her mother might be but she bore little to no resemblance to any female that was mentioned in it. It seems her Father had been a bachelor since well before the Clone Wars and his service in the Old Republic's Navy.

"So what do you think?" Shimi asked. Then had to repeat herself when Phasma looked at her blankly because she hadn't been paying attention to the Bothan's constant chatter.

"Oh, it is simply wizard. It should do splendidly." Phasma answered trying to put false exuberance in her reply.

"May I have your opinion on your Father's coronation outfit? I've got several ideas I've been playing with." Shimi showed Phasma several different designs she was working on for her father's coronation outfit. The junior seamstresses helped Phasma out of her dress as she looked over the designs.

Several of the designs looked like Moff robes of office. Another had a horrendously tall hat that looked like it would rival any of Moff Kuat's Kuati headdresses. A few of them had the feel of Denonian regal wear, which was more to her Father's tastes. It wasn't long ago that she believed herself to be of Denonian stock as well; now she was far from certain.

In the end the Imperial style won out and she voiced her choice of a Grand Admiral's white dress uniform. The Bothan confirmed that was what the Fleet Admiral had already chosen to don during his coronation as the 1st Emperor of Mars. It was difficult for Phasma not to wonder if the populace of Mars would accept a clone as the heir to that throne.

Shimi promised she would have the last alterations on her gown ready in time and Phasma made her farewells. She stopped mid-stride towards the entrance doorway when she noticed that several of the junior seamstresses were bowing at her passing. It was something she had never seen before, and had certainly not been prepared for.

"Um, thank you very much." She stuttered as she hastily continued to the exit.

Two blue-hued stormtroopers in the old plastoid armor stood just inside the boutique with their blasters at the ready. She nodded to one of them that she was ready to depart. Though she heard nothing she was sure he had already informed the squad of DiploServ troopers outside.

She stepped into the bright Martian sun on a nice, cool day on what would have been a peaceful morning. The scene outside the boutique was anything but. Her squad of blue stormtroopers muscled dozens of reporters and paparazzi aside as she made her way to her Limousine 8800. Her security team did its best to hustle her to the waiting landspeeder. Dozens of questions and inquiries were flung at her as photographers and HoloCam Droids battled with each other to take her HoloImage.

Several of the red Culter City Guard rode escort on law-enforcement BARC speeders as her vehicle lifted off into the busy skyways of the city. Her journey that morning was taking her to Tarkin Tower, Military Headquarters of the new Martian Empire, along the Yos River. Her vantage gave her a view of street-sweeper droids cleaning the monumental Tarkin Square where the new Palace of Mars was being built in a similar architectural style to the Theed Royal Palace on Naboo. She had heard her father had been adamant about its design, claiming his daughter could only feel at home there. She had no idea why; she could name a dozen larger and more famous palaces in the old Empire that she would have rather inhabited.

Her personal assistant, a Rodian who had been with her before her ill-fated journey to Earth, rambled through her itinerary for the day. She noted with wonder at her growing collection of assistants after her return. Across the seat from the two of them sat three silent stormtroopers, one of them a sergeant by his rank cubes. For a second a pang of sadness and loss coursed through her as she recalled the sacrifice of FG-5638, the stormtrooper who had been tortured and murdered in front of her.
It took a few minutes to shake off the grief she felt over the brave stormtrooper's sacrifice. She tried to focus on the passing scenery and busy morning airways to distract her thoughts.

Tarkin Tower's spires soared one hundred and ninety floors into the skyline above Culter City and her repulsercraft landed on one of the edifice's VIP landing pads near the eightieth floor. Three more towers were under construction nearby to complete the complex. Phasma exited the vehicle and took a moment to stare out at the city that had become her home. She hadn't realized how bad she had missed it during her week of captivity.

Most of buildings of the metropolis that spilled out across the Ares Vallis region of Mars had been built of red pourstone and matched the surrounding landscape. In contrast the deep blue of the Yos River bisected the city as it ran its course from the Culter Sea in the Margaritifer Terra Highlands in the southeast, to Seco Lake in the northwest. She breathed deeply of the air of home, which was much less smoky than that of Earth. But then again, she reminded herself, Earth was burning right now, and with it, she hoped, most of the treacherous earthlings as well. She took one last breath and then turned and entered the building.

Twiliki receptionists saluted as she entered and several stormtrooper guards snapped to attention as she passed. Oddly, the building's guard force was led by a captain who clearly out-ranked her yet didn't hesitate in showing her proper military honors. I'm not a 'Princess' yet, she reminded herself.
A Felucian Guide led her through the maze-like halls and offices of the many departments of Tarkin's Fist, a pair of her guards trailing behind. Upon her arrival at the inauspicious offices of Fleet Intelligence she was greeted by a pair of well-armed females, one Falleen and the other a Pantoran, both dressed in the crimson Imperial uniforms that marked their branch of service. Both females eyed her with the suspicion of Intelligence agents but were immediately amicable when she approached. They had been expecting her and told her that her guards could remain in the waiting room while she was taken to the briefing room.

Once inside she was whisked past banks of signal interception equipment and dozens of data-analysis technicians. A few protocol droids stood around the room interpreting Earth languages for the intelligence agents. She was guided by the Falleen into a conference room where she was offered a plush chair and some refreshments. Phasma answered that water was fine and the Falleen excused herself to fulfill the request.

A few seconds later two officers entered the room and took seats across from her. She recognized both of them from her rescue on Alcatraz Island the day before; Lieutenant Commander Knebler and First Lieutenant Murp, this time without their armor.

"How are you, Your Highness? Um, sorry, excuse me. I guess not for a couple of more days." Knebler greeted her awkwardly.

"That's fine, Sir. I'm still not used to all the attention yet. Lieutenant works just fine." Both of the officers looked at each other and just shrugged. Probably deciding that it didn't matter one way or another, Phasma figured.

"Alright, Lieutenant. We were discussing your captivity last night aboard the Quill. Can you tell us the focus of the North American Union's interrogation?" Knebler as the senior of the two officers began.

"Her name was Sarah, and she was a Dathomir Witch if I ever met one."

"Yes, you stated that she was the prisoner you 'disposed' of during your extraction." Murp stated. Phasma thought their word usage was too clean. What she had done was a murder, and she would take that with her for the remainder of her cloned life.

"Sarah was concerned mostly with our defenses. She asked everything from what our Star Destroyer armor was made of to what we used as a power source for our turbolasers. They seemed to lack fundamental knowledge of plasma weapons, though I detected they knew the concept, if not the application."

"Well they are intimately aware of it now. First reports from the planet are putting minimum estimates of orbital bombardment casualties at half a billion Terrans." Knebler informed her, "Was there anything else they seemed to be after?"

"Their line of questioning seemed to be more designed for a five year old. They wanted to know about older technologies such as cold fusion or ion engines. They were curious if there was a way to bypass our radiation detectors, I believe in an effort to resume nuclear weapon production. The Terrans didn't know how to overcome our commo and electronic jamming; it seemed to perplex them to no end.

Whenever they had to ask something from someone with more authority it seemed like it took several hours just to receive a simple answer."

Murp smiled, "We believe we are truly damaging their effective command and control. Their defenses of Targets East and West have been disorganized and disgraceful, even by their own standards."

"They didn't seem to have any knowledge of our stormtroopers and several times wondered if we had hand-held versions of our heavy turbolasers." She continued.

"At the time of your rescue the first waves of the invasion were just landing. They're probably more aware of the Stormtrooper Corps and blasters by now." Knebler smiled. "Any mention of troop deployments or superweapons from any of them?"

"Some mentioning by the guards of 'American' divisions moving too slowly to a place called the 'Central Valley', but I couldn't tell you any more than that. The guard force at my prison didn't seem well-informed. Sarah did though. She was receiving information on the effectiveness of the bombardment. She said we were murderers for what we did."

"Tell that to the crew on the Insertion." Murp snorted, "Or that bodyguard of yours that they executed."
Phasma inhaled sharply at the painful memory. "They were very concerned with what my father was like. What campaigns he had fought in for the Empire. What were his strategies, who had trained him, and how had they fought. They seemed to be trying to get inside my father's head through me."

"Seems logical. Even the abos on Earth acknowledge that they need to know us before they can beat us." Knebler observed.

"Can they...I mean can they beat us?" Phasma asked.

"You didn't hear this from me, but as the soon-to-be heir to the throne, it's something you should know. It's basically a numbers game. In the end we'll kill a hundred for every man we lose, but it's more a question of who will crack first. The Empire has never lost and these earthlings may not even know how to lose."

It was a scary thought. What had her father gotten the beings of Tarkin's Fist entangled in? "Shall we get back to the subject at hand? The earthlings seem to want to know..."

Their conversation went on for hours. Knebler and Murp disclosed some of the electronic intelligence gathering the Earthlings were aiming at Mars. Primitive by what the two of them dealt with every day. They told her of the progress at both the Target cities and how Operation Piper was underway in their Pacific Ocean region. All-in-all the war was going in the Empire's favor.

During the course of the interview she had purposely avoided asking any questions of her father or of his involvement in cloning. She never disclosed what the earthlings had revealed to her. The revelation that had shattered her whole world.

Lieutenant Commander Knebler himself led her back to her limousine. In the sky above Culter City a huge transport sailed past, heading to the prisoner camps in the East. "You see, Lieutenant. Everyday your new Empire of Mars gets stronger, while Earth weakens. You shouldn't concern yourself with anything more than your father's coronation over the next few days."

Phasma nodded her head and assured the officer that she would do just that. She stared at the rapidly receding transport as it moved towards the horizon. Her eyes glared with hatred. She thought bitterly of her imprisonment on Alcatraz. She hoped the newly arriving prisoners enjoyed their stay on the surface of Mars, because one day she was going to merrily bury their bones underneath it.