Chapter 1

"Up! Up! Up!"

Ky Tin swung his legs out over his bunk and dropped to his feet. Standing erect, he stared off into space, rubbing his eyes to erase the drowsiness that clung to his body. The master sergeant called the roll, spitting out their identifications as if they tasted bitter in his mouth. Tin smirked as one of the other troopers to his left uttered a guttural noise reminiscent of a Wookie when his name was called.

"NF-7812; Ky Tin!"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

The master sergeant strode passed him, continuing down the line of sergeants. He was several inches shorter than the two-meter Tin but stockier. Tin's nickname in basic was Noodles, since he was all arms and legs. Now, as an officer in the Imperial Army, Tin had left than name far behind.

Finishing the list, the master sergeant boomed that the mess hall would be open at 0600 hours. "After that, get armored up and meet in room 104 for the day's briefing; no helmets. Dismissed!"

Tin pulled his pack out from under his bunk, removed his casual uniform, and got dressed.

Tin stroked his combed light brown hair as he walked down the grey corridor. Despite the automated janitors, the black floor still crunched underneath his boots. Not even the Empire can overcome the rock and dirt of Daanup. Tin was a local head, having spent all his life on the planet and traversing its axis numerous times. His father had been a part of the founding of Daanup City with its bountiful supply of its naturally occurring resilient mineral alloys. As the city grew, many suggested that Veddo Tin should be its mayor, but he declined, saying he was a merely a simple miner. Yet, because of his respected status, the government gifted one of its most modern housing complexes for his family's comfort. Then the Rebellion came.

The Empire had always had a presence on Dannup and had helped its development into a successful intergalactic enterprise because of its alloys and its ability to be construct durable cargo and prison frigates. Yet, the Grand Moff had kept the Empire's influence down to minimum, only having troop barracks installed to act as supervisors of the local militia. But then the war hit home, literally for the Tin's. Ky shook his head trying to push aside the memories. Every day, every crickin' day, the sting pierces through.

After spooning some of the warm sludge the cooks deemed to be edible from the cafeteria, he sat down at his regular table. As he poured himself a cup of electrolyte milk, he heard someone slide into the seat beside him. "'Morning, sir."

"Good morning, Yazz."

The brawny private forked the sludge into his mouth, dripping some of it on himself. "Any idea of what the day's objective is?"

"Same thing as every day. Serve the Empire for the greater good." It was against protocol for sergeants to eat with their squads, but Tin did so to form the bonds of trust necessary in combat. No one seemed to object his unorthodoxy and other sergeants began doing the same after his example.

Another private pulled up a chair. "How'd you sleep, sir?"

"Hey, Jiv. Fine." One by one, each member of his six-man squad joined them. They discussed the latest productions of entertainment as they ate as well as the release of the XP-38 landspeeder. After they finished, they headed to the armory. Tin yanked his black body glove over his legs and chest, then pulled the hood over his head. Stretching his neck to conform the elasticity of the material, he proceeded to help his soldiers into their amour and checked their systems. When it was his turn, the second-in-command, Demin Chek, a twenty-four-year-old who had crossed over from the local Daanup City militia to the Imperial Army assisted his sergeant. "You forgot to shave this morning," The black-haired private muttered, adjusting Tin's white pauldron, a recognition of his rank as sergeant.

"You'll get some scruff too when you get older," Tin joked. There was only a two-year difference between them.

"More like your mind is slipping at your old age," Chek countered.

"Things are pretty lax right now. Missing one here and there isn't going to fry anyone's nerves."

"The one-time I do will. That's how it works."

Tin slid on his breastplate and Chek tightened the straps. Stormtroopers' armor is expected to be shiny and spotless after each wear and each soldier must be prepared to dawn on a new suit every time he goes out. Once again, Tin broke protocol by etching a date on the upper right corner of his breastplate and requesting the same piece every time. The date read "7-17-7." The day his life changed forever. It seemed contradictory for a man who sought to escape from the pain of that day to have a permanent remainder of it, but Tin accepted the hypocrisy. The same agony that brought him low also fueled his drive and made the routine bearable.

Holding his helmet at his side, Tin walked into room 104 and took a seat near the front. The master sergeant strutted in first, followed by his superior, Lieutenant Adak, as always with his stark white hair in a clean crewcut. Unlike the master sergeant, Adak's height equaled Tin's, but his arms were much more muscular. Tin had often thought that Adak would have been quite successful as one of Daanup's underground gladiators in spite of his age. Although he had never seen or heard the official age of the lieutenant, Tin guessed Adak was in his mid-forties due of the hint of wrinkles under the eyes. Still, due to his muscle mass and sharp mind, the lieutenant spent his days wearing armor instead of a the dress uniform for desk officers, and was known for going out with squads when things got too serious in the city.

Adak was not a native of Daanup but had been stationed at its thriving metropolis four years ago after the previous lieutenant had been recalled. Adak had relaxed the appearance standards of his Stormtroopers but demanded the most out of them, especially his sergeants. He had said many times that the true leaders of the Empire were not those who lie protected behind impervious ships and stations, but those who lead their troops into the oncoming blaster fire. "The Empire begins and ends with you," he would say, "The Empire depends on your leadership and your men. You decide the fate of all those above you."

Adak cleared his throat as he walked up the stairs to the low stage. "Good morning, sergeants. We don't have long so I'll get right to today's objectives. Royan, you take your squad to northern district. Hettu, Jaffic, you take the east and west respectively. Tin, I need you to take southern district. I'm going to have Padit, Burr, and Vonis join up with you at Sector 3. From there, you'll spread out and but keep in constant contact with each other. If one of you goes quiet, coordinate with the others and rush to the location of the unresponsive squad immediately. Our spies have uncovered a possible insurgency. Any questions?"

Tin raised his hand. "Do we know the objective of the insurgence?"

"It's obvious." Adak tapped on the controls of the nearby holo-table. A 3D image of a warehouse formulated in the air above. "It's universally understood that the Rebellion has been coveting a chance of claiming a piece of Daanup's alloys as it would greatly increase their production of ships. It's highly likely that their planning some sort of heist."

Tin snorted. "That sounds a little ambitious."

The lieutenant nodded gravely. "Which is even more disturbing. What do they know that we don't?"

Biting his cheek, Tin sat back, crossing his arms.

As there were no more questions, Adak dismissed the briefing.