First Strike

***

Earth Space

10 days ABY

Captain Peeko was intrigued by the constant streams of data flickering at ridiculous speeds on his monitor. He and Manali had been analyzing the mountain of information for an entire day; the human population there had been a big surprise. More importantly, there were billions of them! The on-board scanner was still busy, but there were definitely many, many people down there. And two in some sort of space station orbiting the beautiful planet, but those two had reacted very oddly when he'd flown close by to wave.

"Maybe waving is offensive," said Peeko pensively.

Manali guffawed in response but said nothing as he was busy getting the translation machine calibrated to decode the languages below. Since they were human languages and the brain functions in a relatively similar way all over the galaxy, it allowed them to be decoded in an hour or two at a time; so far he only had three, although these seemed to be the most common on their version of the Holonet. They also had their own version of Basic, a language spoken by almost all: English. This is what they were going to concentrate on.

A few hours later, the on-board computer was conducting statistical analysis on the news they had accidentally discovered on the vast planetary network of computers. It was quite impressive for a planet that wasn't even successfully sending manned teams out beyond its moon, but simple in galactic terms of course. The computer began flashing a red light wildly, indicating that something of interest (a complex set of algorithms and preferences allowed it to decide what was important) and Peeko jogged to it. What he saw made his jaw drop first, but this soon developed into a sly grin.

***

Earth

December 8, 2009

Barry Omaba smiled his broad, famous smile and shook the hand of yet another head of state. He didn't even recognize this one at all, but a little voice in his ear, coming from a tiny earpiece, told him it was Dragos Bariscu, the Romanian president. This was never ending! Copenhagen had been a bad idea.

"How's Budapest? I hear the snow makes it quite beautiful this time of year," he said, not knowing what else to tell the man he was shaking hands with.

Bariscu did not know if that had been a joke or whether the president of the most powerful nation on Earth had really just confused Budapest with Bucharest, his capital city.

Omaba gave a hearty laugh and patted the Romanian president on the back. "I was only joking sir, please forgive me!"

Barry Omaba was almost seven feet tall, was of half-African descent and the first "colored" president of his country. He was a charming man whose smile could convince many people of its earnestness – certainly enough to get voted in. He always wore a suit, and today was no exception. He liked a good suit. That thought was interrupted by high-pitched screams, but luckily no gunfire or explosions. No, the reason for the screaming was quite obvious: a large craft of some sort was landing in the palace gardens. It looked strangely out of place in the carefully tendered patch of green in stopped on, surrounded by statues and trimmed hedges. In fact, it looked like a pile of Lego put together by a ten year-old.

"Greetings, people of Earth!" bellowed a voice from the almost circular craft, obviously through some sort of speaker. "Fear not, we come in peace."

Everyone ducked as a loud hissing noise could be heard and steam flew out around a door. Security personnel – at least those not stunned into immobility - pulled their weapons and aimed in preparation for any attack. The silence among the crowd of world leaders and their wives was tense as the ramp fell open with a bang, everyone worried about what to expect. Little green men? Hairy seven foot monsters? Certainly not, in fact, what came out of the dropped hatch at that moment.

Or rather, who. Peeko didn't really look the part of an invader, an impressive man perhaps but the only things distinguishing him from a regular human on Earth were his odd facial gear and the weapon holstered at his hip. The silver mask covered the man's mouth, reached from his throat up to his ears but didn't seem to be a breathing device or look in any way threatening due to its soothing curves. He was followed by another, shorter man who did not wear a mask although he too had a weapon. They just walked forwards and stopped when they reached the first Earthling.

"I come bearing a warning," started Peeko. He felt like an idiot because his translator had taken over the muscles required for speech. It felt like cheating, but he really didn't have the time to learn a local language. "I must speak to the leaders of this planet within the shortest possible delay. The way I understand it, they are almost all present."

Peeko smiled at their shocked faces, but none of them showed the slightest inclination of even beginning to talk to him. Finally, one of the men in the crowd came forward. It was the president of the United States of America, and as he made his way forward he tried to look as calm as possible. He knew, in his heart, that this man spoke the truth. There was no way this was a hoax - if anyone on Earth had the technology to make an aircraft that flew this way, he would have known of it. Something was telling him to go along with it, to believe this guy and to trust him. It felt a bit like a thousand voices egging him on, louder than his inhibitions. It felt strange, but he had had this feeling before and it had always paid to follow his instinct. He smiled at the man in front of him before speaking.

"Let me be the first, then, to welcome you to our humble little planet. You look like you're in a rush, so let's get straight to it."

Captain Peeko knew he would like this man already as he was taken gently by the arm to a very nice looking building – the conference center for the Climate Summit. Well, that would have to be put on hold a little bit.

***

December 10, 2009

"Due to these obviously incredible circumstances, all troops will be leaving crisis regions for the direct defence of their respective home nations. This is a time for us, the people of Earth, to unite. Only then do we have a chance against this evil Empire, only then do we have an outside chance of success. I will stress, however, that just because we are leaving war-torn regions it does not mean we are abandoning them. Supplies of food, weaponry and equipment will continue as long as they can, and we will be leaving behind complete arsenals for locals to defend themselves with.

The Rebel Alliance officer, Captain Peeko, was kind enough to lend us his skilled assistant, Sergeant Manali, to improve our communication systems. This is an absolute must, for without them we will be but a footnote in galactic history forever. I suggest people leave the cities, although all nations have agreed to arm anyone willing to fight – it seems we will be needing anyone who wants to defend not only his or her family, their home, their country but also their planet. It is your fundamental right as citizens of Earth, we agreed, to be able to fight. It is also your fundamental right as citizens of Earth, we agreed, to be able to flee the fighting. It is up to you. We don't know how long we've got, apparently a month. We'll see. Whenever it is they arrive, we'll be ready.

Let's hope the promised help from the Alliance arrives. Let's hope we survive. Above all, however, let's hope we give these colonial bastards the kicking they deserve because we, the citizens of Earth, are not going to give up what is rightfully ours!"

The news commentator's voice drowned out the loud cheers of the huge crowds gathered in front of the White House. Moritz could hardly believe what he was watching. An empire wanted Earth? What for? He was sitting on the couch at his grandparents' house next to his grandmother, who had just started her second packet of Muratti cigarettes of the day. He'd had to come to Vienna anyway to report the incident and get some time off deal with Ahmed's death, but somehow he figured his so-called therapeutic absence wasn't going to last much longer. His phone rang, Zafir's name appearing on the screen.

"Hey man," he said bringing the mobile phone to his ear. "You watch the speech?"

"Yeah pretty good, huh? This is crazy, like something out of a movie," answered Zafir.

"Did you hear about the guys on the International Space Station?"

"No, what happened?"

"Apparently that Peeko guy waved at them and they pretty-much shat themselves!" Moritz said already laughing with Zafir joining in moments later.

"Listen man," started Zafir after a moment of silence. "I just got a call from some dude called colonel Hofer. We've been ordered to report back at the military academy because we speak English and we're suddenly desperately needed. He asked me to tell you."

Moritz sighed. "Damn. When?"

"Tomorrow morning, seven o'clock sharp. Might want to say goodbye to the grandparents and warn your mum and dad - we won't be going home for a while."

***

Sol System, aboard the Star Destroyer Dragonfang

35 days ABY

"This information is most pleasing, Admiral," said the Emperor's blue hologram. "I want this planet, and I want you to minimize any damage."

"My Lord? How am I supposed to invade a planet if I am not allowed to use the full extent of our weaponry?" asked Theese.

"I grow tired of your repeated questioning of my orders, Admiral. I said minimize damage, not a pillow fight. I want these people and their culture to join us, not to be crippled for ever."

"It will be done, my Lord," said Theese bowing.

"Do not fail me."

As abruptly as the conversation had begun, it had ended again. Admiral Theese pressed the buzzer on his table, summoning his assistant.

"Since when does the Emperor care for human life, or primitive culture?" he asked Kobarrn.

"Sir, I do not believe he does," said the Captain honestly. "He wants to consolidate the Empire after what happened at Yavin; maybe a fairly advanced human civilization getting discovered will limit the danger of mass-defection towards the rebel side?"

Kobarrn felt sure that it would be something like this and not, as had previously been rumored, a search for resources.

"You're a clever little cookie aren't you?", teased Theese, causing Kobarrn to turn red with rage for a moment. "Is everything in order? Report on the assault fleet."

It sounded more like the admiral felt like he had to pretend to be doing some work.

"Yes sir, we are in position behind the solar system's largest planet, a gas giant the Earthling network names Jupiter," started the Captain. "The five other Star Destroyers are reporting no anomalies, apart from some easily repairable issues; the ten escort carriers report no problems and the last of our assault fleet, carrying our ground forces, are arriving shortly after a delay caused by a hyperdive leak - they didn't want to leave anyone behind."

"Find the one responsible for the leak and have him executed," responded Theese angrily. "Order all forces to take point around the planet. I want to intimidate the enemy for a little bit."

Captain Kobarrn stopped himself from lashing out at the idiotic grin in front of him and bowed. "As you wish, sir."

***

Exiting Earth's Orbit

36 days ABY

Major General Francis Harrison almost smirked as the space shuttle Discovery got caught in the promised tractor beam. He was here on a diplomatic mission - to welcome the Empire, offer help, but not give any independence away under any circumstances. Over the last month, they had meticulously removed (or falsified) any modern military technical data and mention of Captain Peeko from the Internet. Now, they would see whether the Empire worked in the same way as the rebels when they arrived somewhere new. Now, they would know whether the ruse had worked. As he floated through space he got a good look at the ships surrounding his home planet: there were six triangles, about ten ships half that size and hundreds that looked almost unarmed. These ships were smaller, but not as small as the nifty-looking flying 'H's that were zipping around everywhere. Oh, there were no illusions: Earth was in trouble.

He entered the dagger-shaped giant ship through one of the bay doors and looked out through the viewports. There were at least one hundred men clad entirely in white and clutching a weapon arranged in rows. Nothing like Iraq or Afghanistan; perfect discipline with no misplaced feet or weapons held at a different angle. He saw the intimidating approach and smiled: humans were the damned same everywhere.

He picked up his heavy backpack and put it on. Before leaving the shuttle he checked the mirror quickly. His uniform was spotless, his hair would have been perfectly black had it not been for the odd bright white strand. He looked fit enough to represent Earth, of that he was sure. As he left the ship, he promised himself not to give in.

"Greetings," said a silver, humanoid droid, interpreting for the officer standing at the foot of the ship with whom he'd just shaken hands. "This is Commander Albus, he welcomes you to the Dragonclaw. Please follow us to a more private location."

"Of course," he said bowing.

As they made their way to the VIP room unescorted, the officer began conversation. "What is this big pouch for you carry?"

"I am transmitting this meeting to my people back home. This is a major event in our history," he answered. "Are you the leader of this amazing fleet?"

The Commander chuckled. "No, I am in command of this ship only. I represent my people, as do you."

Harrison had no counter to that claim, so he kept quiet until they arrived where they wanted to go. On the way, he kept busy by filming as much of the ship as he could without seeming suspicious. Eventually, they entered a scantily decorated meeting room. The Major General sat on one of the chairs - it was fantastically comfortable, very soft and applying itself to his bodyshape. He remarked this to his counterpart, who chuckled.

"So, as the representative of the people of Earth," said Harrison, "I wanted to welcome you here. Who are you and what do you want?"

"Well," began the officer. "We are but a small part of the Galactic Empire's infinite power. Our demand is quite simple: hand over control over you planet. Do as we say and we will keep you and your people alive. Refuse and you will be crushed until there is nothing left of your pitiful civilization but dust."

Despite the fact that Harrison had known that a threat would be made, he was still taken aback by it and the unquestionable delight the officer in front of him was in as he made it.

"You mean to say, you want our planet for yourself? What will happen with my people here?"

"They will obey the wishes of the Emperor, whatever those might be." He slid a piece of synthetic paper over the table. "Using your language we have written out a contract whereby your planetary leaders abandon all power and hand it over to us. Sign it, and you can save your family."

Harrison looked at it. Astonishingly, the English was perfect, as were the legal terms. They really had done well in such a short space of time. It made him wonder how long they'd been watching.

"You know as well as I do that I can't sign that. The people of Earth would never accept it anyway, nor will they accept your Emperor simply because he has a few spaceships."

"We will not negotiate. This is your last chance."

The old major general looked saddened at this, and looked at the floor. He looked up at the commander slowly, defeat easily readable on his face.

"In that case," he said, "you leave me no choice." He paused for a moment, unsure what else to say. Finally and to the commander's confusion, he took the button-camera off his uniform, turned it around and spoke into it. "Never give in."

With that, he flicked a switch and everything went white.

***

The Dragonfang, Earth Space

"What is going on?" shouted Admiral Theese into his comlink as the sirens blared. "Someone, report!"

"Two gigantic explosions from inside the Dragonclaw sir!" came an unknown voice from the speaker. "One smaller one blew the bridge clean off and the other disabled all power systems from the hangar bay. She's going down!"

Theese roared with anger and quickly made his way to the bridge.

"Sir! We have thousands of contacts leaving the planet's atmosphere at very high speed," shouted someone.

"Fighters? I thought they barely even made it to their moon? Send the TIE Fighters!"

"Launching. The squadron protecting the Dragonfang got wiped out in the explosion," answered a nervous communications officer.

Theese punched and cracked a glass panel used for tactical analysis in frustration.

"Sir, these objects aren't manned. In fact, they're not fighters at all - they're carrying a payload! They've fired rockets! Initiating standard defensive procedures."

All the men were working frantically at their keyboards, relaying calculations, messages and orders to all those concerned. Rockets disintegrated in one hit as a few long-range lasers from the Star Destroyers plowed into them, but there were too many. The planet almost looked like it had air as they left their white streaks behind, coming from all continents and making for the fleet. One hundred and fifty TIE Fighters were on their way to meet them, arranged in a wide line so that all of them had a free view of the oncoming objects.

"TIE Fighters will be in range of contacts in five, four, three, two, one, open fire!"

Theese sighed with relief as the rapid-firing TIEs did their job far more effectively, cutting through the missiles like a very large knife through butter. It emerged quickly, however, that a few still managed to slip through. The first one hit a troop transport, the half-mile long ship getting ripped in half and both pieces spinning to smash into two others like hammers.

"Admiral! We just lost three transports!"

Theese was shocked. Although three transports might seem insignificant when you had fifty, he was intensely aware of the fact that he'd also just lost a Star Destroyer, a squadron of TIE Fighters and over one hundred and fifty thousand ground troops to a civilization that had barely discovered space travel. It would be hard to defend this loss to anyone, let alone the Emperor. Suddenly, he was thrown off his feet as his flagship also got hit by a missile.

"Damage report!" he screamed, terrified of dying.

"Nothing major sir," said Kobarrn's voice. "We could take another twenty of these with minimal casualties - our deflector shields are effective against electromagnetic pulses. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for our transports. We just lost another one."

The admiral got up slowly and straightened his uniform. "When this barrage is over, they will pay dearly for their defiance!"

***

Alpha Base, Austrian Alps

"The smaller missiles had a higher success rate, unfortunately none of the 'continent annihilators' made it through," said President Omaba. "We managed to take out a comparatively small amount of ships, but Captain Peeko says they will be reeling, especially at the loss of a Star Destroyer. Our thoughts are with the Japanese as Tokyo continues to be bombarded from space. There is no doubt in my mind that this is a direct retaliation for our first strike. Bombing our most populated city is meant to make us back down and give up our freedom and independence. We will not let ourselves be bullied by these aliens. We will not be any less ruthless in this war that has just been declared on our very existence. In memory of Major General Francis Harrison, never give in."

The transmission ended, and Moritz looked at his comrades after switching off the radio in their smoking room. No one was speaking. It had officially started, the war was there upon then. What they had been training for during the last month had become a reality.

Alpha base was a gigantic facility inside the mountains in southern Austria. It had been constructed during the cold war and extensively refitted and frantically upgraded in the last three and a half weeks. The reason was simple: it was going to be the main coordination center for European forces, where all the major decisions for military operations on this continent (and possibly others) were going to be made. It really was huge; its most striking feature aside from its surroundings being the protected hangar. It was merely a slit in the side of the mountain to anyone outside, but over a hundred and fifty fighter jets had space inside, far more than Austria's lowly twenty-seven Eurofighters. Five days ago, the Germans and the British had sent over their most advanced ones, so the place was a hive of activity now. The central command room, where Moritz had never been allowed in, featured the most advanced coordination system ever developed on Earth and had been second only to the Americans in incorporating the new planetary communication system adapted by Sergeant Manali for Earthling computers systems. It didn't require satellites, which over the last couple of minutes had all been eliminated. There were enough fuel and gas reserves here to supply the European Alien Repulsion Taskforce for two years, although no one believed the war would go on for that long.

A war, thought Moritz, that he would only be fighting on the sidelines as a translator for the officers stationed here. He knew he was lucky to speak not only German, but English and French as well. He knew he was lucky not to be on the frontlines. However, it hurt his pride, and translators like him were shunned by those guys who had taken the Arschkarte, the short straw, and were going to be outside in the coldest winter for a long time fighting an unknown enemy. He just hoped that his contribution would be sufficient for them to win. With that he walked to his office, started up his computer and looked at his work folder. There were fifty documents to translate. Well, better get cracking, he thought as he heard fighters launching for a patrol. Just as he was about to begin, his phone rang.

"Private Tanner, report to Brigadier Walter's office. You have been reassigned." said a voice he didn't recognize. Before he could reply, the person on the other end had put the phone down.

He rushed through the endless corridors, all the while wondering what he had done. Reassignment only really happened for two reasons: punishment and request. Not even getting consulted was far more unusual now than it had been in the past. It wasn't far away and before he could make sense of it all he'd arrived. The office door was open so he simply strolled in, saluted and stood at attention.

"Private Tanner reporting as ordered sir," he said simply.

"At ease," replied the Brigadier sitting behind his desk. Moritz complied, spreading his legs a little and holding his hands behind his back. "The others should be here shortly."

Over the next two minutes, six soldiers in a completely different uniforms to his walked in, followed by Zafir who looked as confused as he was. They had British flags on their strong arms and all of them had a tan. Had they just returned from Afghanistan?

"Milovic, Tanner," started the Brigadier, then continuing in heavily accented English. "Please welcome our visitors from the British Royal Marines. They are here mainly to assess the security options we have, make suggestions on improvements and scouting deep within enemy lines when they're not busy with defensive duties."

The two privates nodded in their colleagues' direction respectfully, both of them getting a horrible feeling in their stomachs at what would be said next, especially when no respectful nod came back but just cold, hard stares.

"However, none of them speak anything more than rudimentary German, and they are sure to need interpreters, especially in joint operations with forces from our allies." Their fears confirmed, the two privates dropped their heads. This was not good. "Tanner, I understand you speak French as well as English, whilst you, Milovic, speak Serbian and English - both of you could be very useful. As the only two men I have who have seen any action, I see no other-"

"Action?" interrupted Tanner. "We have not seen action. We were involved in a short gunfight with smugglers and one of our comrades died. This was not action, it was-"

"Do not interrupt me, private!" shouted the Brigadier, silencing Moritz. "You think I haven't thought of that? The fact is that you two are two of a rare breed of soldiers in Austria, soldiers who have ever even needed their weapons. I realize you were hoping for a cushy position after the incident. Well I'm sorry, but mental scarring is the least of our problems right now. I don't know if you've heard, but there's an invasion fleet up there. They're coming soon, so get out of my office, get your Scheiss in a bag and report to the barracks up in sector seven!"

The two young men turned and walked away briskly, anger flaring in both of them at the way they had just been treated. The British soldiers had been forgotten and cleared from their minds.

So, that's chapter 2. I lost one of my two betas this week; would anyone like to get a little insight into whatever happens next before the others on + help me on grammar, spelling etc? Send me a message! As always, reviews please me and make me want to continue!