PROLOGUE
21 Years AE
(2 Years ABY)
It all sounded like a simple enough operation.
We were given orders from Imperial High Command to capture an abandoned CIS research facility on the third moon of the gas giant Eerkil. It had since been reclaimed by the Rebels.
After taking it, we were given three days of rest before we were to hunt down the remaining Rebels that had set up camp in the dead forests nearby.
It all sounded easy.
It turned out quite differently.
Right now, I'm fighting for my life against those Rebels. I've seen my fair share of these pathetic excuses for soldiers, and these are no different from any of the others I've fought and killed. Their armor is weak. Their weapons are second-grade. Their vehicles are easily obliterated by ours. They lack the proper training. We outnumber them by at least two dozen.
Well, we did outnumber them.
Until those damned giant bugs showed up with their bows and their swords and their spears.
That's right.
Giant bugs.
The natives of Eerkil III are an insectoid species called the Mn'krit. The average soldier drone stands about 2 meters tall, has four arms, sharp claws, and giant pincers that are perfect for tearing our throats out. Their exoskeletons make them impossible to defeat in hand-to-hand combat, and their primitive weapons are put to deadly use with their lightning-fast reflexes and amazing accuracy.
They decimated us.
I look behind me to see if Menta is still following me.
He is.
I let loose a random burst of covering fire on some of the following Mn'krit, killing two of them and incinerating a leg of another.
I turn forward again and look to see how close I am to our makeshift artillery post, which is nothing more than a fallen AT-ST that's still operational. Some supply crates have been stacked up to serve as a last-ditch line of defense.
About six meters.
I hear an abrupt shout from behind me. It came from Menta.
He's tripped. I keep running and leave him to his fate.
Two meters left.
I dive onto our wall of supply crates and crawl over it.
I'm safe.
I take my blaster rifle, set it to a three-shot burst, and begin shooting at those horrible bugs. While I'm killing the Mn'krit, I hear Sergeant Gryphon radio the Execration, the Star Destroyer we're assigned to, to send some TIE Bombers down for assistance.
If we can hold out for the next three minutes, we'll be safe.
Some of the men we have left start cheering. I guess we're getting out of here alive after all.
I take a quick glance at Gryphon. He's not sharing their enthusiasm.
"Sergeant! What's the matter?"
"They're going to be bombing the whole valley. Not just the hives and their defensive positions... the whole damned valley!" he says with a voice laced with depression and anger.
The realization hits me just the way the Mn'krit arrow hits the man next to me.
We are going to die.
Our armor is built to provide protection against glancing blaster bolts, stun beams, and shrapnel.
Not a proton bomb.
We've got two and a half minutes left.
I can hear the bombers now.
My entire life is flashing before my eyes.
It all comes back to me now.
All of it.