A fierce fury of explosions shook the earth, spraying dirt and stone across the battered terrain. Hunkered down in series of trenches, men stared absently at the ground or fidgeted with the weapons in hands. One man kept his eyes closed and recited a prayer. Another individual was cleaning his vibrosword, taking extra care to ensure that not a single knick or notch could be found along the length of the blade. He gazed up into the blood red sky.

"Fitting." He muttered to himself. Another explosion caused him to curl up into a ball; not out of fear, but of habit and training. A warrior, half crouched, moved over and planted himself next to he man, groaning as he extended his legs. " Lieutenant Kota, how long will you keeping repairing that blade of yours? After every battle it is stained in blood and riddled with gashes and chinks."

Without looking at his comrade, he pulled out a pistol, holstered on his hip, and began to wipe it down. "We need to inspire fear into our enemies, corporal." He held the pistol up and looked down the length of the barrel. "They need to see that we still have our pride and dignity; that we will not let this war change us into less than we are." He motioned towards the open battlefield with his free hand. "Our Northern Continent foes do not care about these things. All they want is the rich resources of the South Continent." Kota looked around at the destroyed terrain around him. It was beautiful at one point, but now was marred with craters larger than Republic cruisers and held nothing but pure dirt and shattered rock. Kota let his memory take him back to a time when the continent was swarming hundreds of different life forms, babbling brooks populated the lush, rolling green hills and elegant cities stood as a testimony to his people's culture. It was almost all but destroyed now…

He returned from his mental meandering and focused back on the conversation. "Don't let them strip us of any more. Show them that we will fight and die to preserve that."

The corporal nodded, his facial expression displaying his understanding. "Yes sir."

Kota smiled and patted the soldier's shoulder. "You'll do fine." Then Kota noticed it. Everything was silent… only the shallow breathing of the men around him could be heard. He looked down the length of the trench. "Captain, are they?"

An officer with white hair, dressed in the typical green uniform of the Southern Continent Army, nodded as he tightened the notches on his chest and shoulder plating. "Get your men ready, Kota."

Kota likewise nodded and motioned for his men to stand up. With speed and efficiency that declared months of routine, the men lined up against the wall, blaster rifles ready and aimed across the battlefield. Kota gripped his pistol with his right hand and held his vibrosword hilt with his left. He knew what was coming next. After prolonged periods of constant bombardment, the Northern Continent soldiers would then rush the trenches, killing all opposing soldiers. Then they would reinforce their positions and prepare to take the next trench. Kota, however, was not going to let that happen. The company that Kota was a member of had held for weeks against the onslaught. Though they were extremely low on ammunition and more than likely would be out of it by the end of the engagement, he was not going to let his adversaries win. Not after all of this.

A roar of elevated voices and battle cries erupted from the enemy lines. Like a wave, soldiers followed from the trenches and towards the opposing line.

The captain looked around. "Fix vibroblades!" Within a few seconds, all of the soldiers in the trench, whose numbers were no more than 500, had their bayonets fixated on the end of their guns. "Kota, you know the drill!"

Kota breathed deeply. He was gifted amongst his fellow soldiers in a strange sense. He was gifted with an ability that rendered him able to perform telekinetic acts. While he did not fully understand it, his officers exploited his "gift". With a thought, he found himself able to detonate a mine or by a wave of his hand he could force someone off their feet. Whilst many called it magic and feared him for it, others appreciated his talent and allowed him to feel at ease and no so much an outcast.

He scanned the approaching mass of antagonists and found what he was searching for: a demolitionist. Reaching out with his mental faculties, he "felt" the arming device and trigger. He gripped his hand and the bomb whirred to life. The Northern Continent engineer did not even notice. Kota pulled his hand down, telekinetically triggering the bomb. That was all he needed.

An explosion followed, engulfing an entire force of soldiers in the fireball. Within just a few seconds, a large gap filled the Northern line. But, that did not deter them. They still charged onward, battle cries seeming to grow more numerous, despite the recent losses.

"Open fire!" The captain screamed. A barrage of blue laser bolts tore into the opposing lines. Men dropped by the dozens, but still they pressed onward. With pinpoint accuracy, Kota picked off soldiers with his pistol. It only lasted a few seconds, then they were in the Southern trenches.

Kota drew his blade and immediately decapitated the first soldier to vault in. A few followed and then the entire trench was ablaze with blaster fire, clashing of blades, and the stench of brunt flesh. Kota twirled his blade in a fancy fashion of finesse and cleaved through two soldiers who did not raise their lengthy blasters in time. The turned to observe another fighter charging him, bayonet brandished. He pushed his hand forward, palm out and telekinetically knocked his adversary to the ground. He raised his sword and plunged it into the fallen soldier's chest. He stood and witnessed a trio of foes rushing his position. He raised his blade in defense, but it was an unnecessary action.

Unbeknownst to him, the corporal he had just consoled gunned down the three with a set of accurately placed shots. Kota turned and nodded. "Thank you, Bres."

Corporal Bres vaulted to his side. "My pleasure, sir!" He picked off another opponent who jumped into the trench. "Captain Trulae needs help holding the western edge of our position."

Kota sliced a Northern Continent regular in half while Bres relayed the news to him. "Very well then."

He reached out and sought another demolitionist amongst the next wave of approaching enemies. Using the same method he had before, he detonated the bomb in his satchel and a wave of fire consumed another bulk of soldiers. Using that moment he sprinted down the trench, slicing at rivals as he went. Just before he reached captain Trulae's position, a Northern swordsman dove at him, weapon brandished high. Everything moved in slow motion around him. A rushing sound accompanied by a constant low drone followed. This was another power given to him that he did not fully understand. He could think and move normally, but the entire environment around him reacted fifty percent slower than normal. Using his elevated reflexes, he ducked underneath the blade and caught his opponent across his abdomen with his sword. The world resumed to regular speed with a similar rush of noise. He turned and noticed Bres shoot the soldier in the head to ensure his demise. With ease, Kota dispatched his captain's antagonists.

"Captain-" He stopped. Captain Trulae tumbled over, a smoldering hole in the back of his head. "Damn!" He scanned the area around him. "Jars, Menk, Sulrel! Rally!"

The three bloodstained soldiers, with Sulrel being a sergeant amongst the two privates, scurried over to Kota's position. "Yes sir?" the sergeant asked.

Kota pointed over at the enemy trenches. "We are close to forcing them back. Are numbers are almost zilch. Once they fall back, we will chase them into their trenches!"

Sulrel blinked. "Sir, with all due respect, this is not something-" He turned halfway to gun down a Northern conscript. "That Captain Trulae would have done or condoned."

Kota glared at the sergeant. "Damn it, Sulrel! The Captain is dead and I'm in command! Whether he would have done it or not is no longer an issue!" He motioned again over to the line. "We can do more damage going down in their trenches, destroying as much as we can with us."

Sulrel nodded in the process of heavy breathing. "Alright, but I'm next in the chain of command. You die, and I'm pulling the plug on your plan."

Kota grinned. "Then I guess I won't have to die." A whistle sounded and as Kota expected, the Northern Continent army began to withdraw. "After them!" Kota urged. "Chase them back to their trenches and kill them all!" A cheer exuded from the Southern lines and the remaining three hundred soldiers pressed eagerly towards the lines of their nemesis. Kota raced up a ladder and waving his sword he rallied warriors behind him. It was an unorthodox, but unexpected maneuver on his part. The Northern artillery did not foresee such an action and were caught off guard. The Northern infantry did not have a chance to form up and fire upon their pursuers. Only a handful left behind in their trench had a chance of a few potshots before Kota and the fighters behind him poured into Northern trenches. A vicious onslaught followed.

Kota flashed a fury of strikes at his adversaries. Within the crammed environment, he found himself only able to hack and jab as opposed to slashes. Antagonists fell before him and his zealous soldiers in droves. Eventually, he worked his way to a calm in the battle, and rallied his officers about him. He took note that Jars fell to a Northern bayonet.

"Men, see those artillery pieces over there?" All eyes turned to the half a dozen laser cannons, about 500 yards away, being primed for fire.

"Now there's something." Sulrel said. "Why would they be prepping their pounders?"

Bres's eyes grew wide. "Wait, they aren't?"

Kota nodded. He knew that the Northern Army was planning on bombarding their own trenches if it meant killing their enemies. Their soldiers were expendable and as such their common tactic for winning a battle was by attrition. "Well boys, I guess we fought well, just not well enough."

Bres and Sulrel both gunned down three advancing opponents. Kota pushed his hand forward and knocked the forth to the ground. Menk finished him off.

"Sir," Menk protested, "I'm not ready to give up just yet. I know their positions are heavily entrenched, but can't we do something. You're the magician here! Isn't there a damn thing you can do?"

Kota sighed. "Nothing. I may have powers, but I cannot bring down an entrenched position of cannons."

Sulrel readied his blaster rifle. Well, it's been a real pleasure, boys."

Kota gripped his blade as a dozen conscripts broke past two soldiers in front of the officers and rushed them. Once again, events in the world about him transpired in slow motion. He swiped and slashed and slew any enemy in his path. As life returned to its normal speed, he found that he had single-handedly killed eight soldiers in those few but lengthy seconds. Sulrel nodded at him, his face filled with approval but also with amazement.

"Here it comes." Sulrel said, motioning over to the cannons.

Bres shook his head. "Can't we run?"

Sulrel sighed. "And go where? We are out of ammo, no supplies. They'd just kill us tomorrow. At least this way we go down fighting."

Bres growled. "But for nothing! They're gonna kill the rest of their men in here, so us staying her is pointless!"

As the two argued, Kota tightened his stance. After all of this time, after all of this war, bloodshed, sweat, and tears it was over. This was how it ended. Kota did not want to believe that this was really happening, but it was. Kota knew they could withdraw, but as Sulrel pointed out, to what end would it serve. They would either starve to death or fight hand to hand. And with no laser cartridges left, it would be a very short fight and be utterly useless.

The distant hum of the cannons was like a drum call at an execution. Kota readied himself to make piece with the world around him. Then the unexpected happened. A set of explosions erupted from the cannon line. Kota tried to gain an understanding of the situation, but was confused as to what was happening, until he gazed into the sky and beheld a starship, high in the clouds, pounding blaster fire into the northern position.

Kota smiled. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes." He said softly.

The ship flew closer to the ground and blazed over the trench. Cheers erupted from the Southern warriors; cries of jubilation filled the air. Kota slumped against the trench wall and observed the few remaining Northern soldiers surrendering. It was over for them. Sulrel threw his arm around Kota, tears rolling down his face. "We did good, Kota. We did good."

Kota returned his friend's embrace. For all of their bickering, Sulrel was like a brother to him, and he was glad that he had survived the onslaught that had lasted so long. "I think things just got brighter."

Sulrel motioned up to the red starship coursing around them. "I don't recognize the markings. Who are they?"

Kota laughed, harder than he ever had before. As joy and sheer relief encompassed him, he pointed at the vessel and declared. "That, my friend, is the Republic."