AUTHORS NOTE: A review I got pointed out a discrepancy: that Padme had had an assassination attempt but Anakin already had an anti-Tusken sentiment. Let me explain:

The clones right now are not in the picture yet, that's what Obi-Wan is investigating at Kamino right now. Padme did in fact have the attempts on her life, but the timing was off. With the Tyranid invasion, everything was put on higher alert and Zam Wessel was delayed by quite a bit. Why?

Well, you know how the Tyranids had been sending out sleepers to rouse up planets and such, before the excrement hit the air-conditioning on Bisaan? Well, the planets on her original route were suffering riots, including the one she was on at the time. Getting out of that was a mess in and of itself, and then there was trying to get to Coruscant when riots and unrest were brewing all over the route. Thus, she didn't set off a bomb at the ship because she couldn't. Padme and Anakin still spent time together, though, so while it's not as strong as it was in the original movie both of them do feel for each other.

Another thing: Yes I am portraying blasters as fairly weak, a good deal weaker than lasguns. Why? Because here: In the Return of the Jedi, Leia takes a hit to the arm in a situation where the Stormtroopers wouldn't have had any reason to pull their punches. Her injuries were painful and harsh, but manageable and her arm didn't even seem that bad. Direct, lethal hits have people falling to the ground, pretty much whole. Had it been a lasgun that arm would have been blown off. They regularly blast chunks in people, something that I have yet to see blasters do with any real consistency.

Anyhow, onto the story!

"Run! Run! Get them to the evac ships!"

"Oh gods above, they're everywhere! Where in the-"

"Requesting immediate support, my squadron has been surrounded and we're cut off, I repeat, we're cut-"

"OH GOD MY LEGS IT'S EATING MY-"

"Our flanks have broken and we're being hammered from three directions! We need support at Athlas Square, now!"

"12th Mechanized Infantry Division, reporting for duty sir! We're fresh, eager, and ready to take the fight to these alien bastards!"

"Kriff me, did you see that? That thing just ate his-"

Atan massaged his temples, closing his eyes in order to stave off the effects of sleep deprivation. Ever since those alien bastards had launched off their attack the communications systems had been flooded, everyone trying to talk over everyone and no one getting what they wanted through. The xeno freaks had been using confusion this effectively, overrunning the various patrols that had been sent to try and deal with them, and now Athla was the last remaining city on the bloody island that hadn't fallen to this scourge.

The communications officer sighed, before wearily picking up one of the distress signals and repeating words he had said a hundred times before. "We cannot at the present time answer your request. Please hold out until we get back to you." He switched over to another channel, cutting off the resulting curses and cries from the denied. He leaned back in his chair, thinking on how things had gotten this bad.

Dolran was a major planet in this part of space, with developed cities, well fed and educated people, a modern military, and a strong trade network to boot. It was a beacon in the sector, offering refuge from pirates and outlaws under its wing. It had never expanded; why should it? They had everything they could want right here and if they didn't, then time to open up a new trade route. Oh sure, they didn't have a say in the Galactic Senate, but they were connected to enough Republic worlds so that their wishes could be heard and if they weren't, well, that was the price of independence.

Of course, nowadays one would be hard-pressed to find anyone who was proud of Dolran's independence as they had been abandoned. Most planets around them had been emptied, billions of refugees headed to the Core Worlds as the Swarm, an apparently unstoppable organic tide of snapping jaws and razor claws overran all before it. Dolran had sent out hundreds of requests to its neighbors all for the same thing: Ships, so that it too could join in on the evacuation. Now, its lack of any vessels other than a strong defense fleet had proven to come back to haunt it as they simply didn't have enough ships to transport the planet's two billion citizens off-world. As the last of their former friends left, Dolran hunkered down and kept its proud fleet on guard, hoping to weather the storm.

It didn't. It tried, but like so many before it the hub of commerce for dozens of planets around had failed.

It wasn't easy, oh no. The Dolran ships had done their best, but after ten minutes of hard fighting the enemy had pressed on a thin section of the defense line and broke it, sending dozens of organic troop carriers down through to the nearest point on the planet's surface: Raul Island, the largest on the world as well as the control center for the orbital defenses. From there, they had spread like an epidemic, overrunning the towns and cities in a matter of days until, by the end of the week, only Athla remained. Now, it was a race against time to get as many civilians off the island as the military tried to hold back the tide.

Atan constantly monitored the comm channels, trying to pick out the actual urgent orders and messages and separating them from the panicked cries for help that would go unanswered. Or the screams of the dying troops that had left their comm systems on. Growing steadily more and more depressed as his ears were buffeted by pleas for help he could not answer and the cries of doomed squadrons, he turned and looked at the holomap in the center of the Communications Hub, other operators like him all doing their part or simply acting out their roles in a daze of sleep deprivation.

The holomap, as its name suggested, was a holographic real-time map of the city of Athla. Ordinarily it was used primarily to monitor traffic flow and quickly locate any accidents, fires, crimes, and the like and then respond accordingly. Now, it was a war-map, displaying enemy and friendly troop movements in red and blue respectively. Atan stared morosely at the map. Far too much red… With a heavy heart, he returned to his duties. If they somehow managed to get out of this alive, he was going to need a therapist.

Hours passed and Atan continued to work, the constant pleas for help he could not answer blending into each other. As he monitored the messages and relayed them, he began to fall into a trance, a daze of half-sleep after having dutifully manned his post for the past forty hours. Sleep would be really nice now… a minute or so shouldn't hurt…

"Oi! Atan! Wake up!"

"Wha? What's-"

"A bunch of the top brass are coming in! Don't want them to see you napping, eh?"

Atan rose with a jolt, eyes wide and blinking. "Wait, what!? When? How long was I out for?"

"Only a few minutes. Don't worry; nothing important came your way that we couldn't handle without you. And they should be coming in three…two…one." His fellow communications officer, a Rodian who had lost the proper usage of his legs in a bar brawl and whom Atan just realized he didn't know the name of, spun his chair around just as the doors to the Hub opened to reveal General Harlon; the oldest and most decorated officer on Dolran. Alongside him were a multitude of other high-ranking officers however Atan couldn't really recognize them seeing as how he had only ever had to know about Harlon. Then the General's voice pushed out all other thoughts as he began to speak.

"Alright, boys and girls, listen up! I'm sure you must be wondering why the channels have been so quiet lately, why it's all requests for supplies rather than extraction. Well, I got good news and bad news. Bad news is…there's no one to call for help anymore. All our squads and refugee's outside our defensive line are dead." This news was met with a grim silence and a wave of depression settled over the Hub. Most of the operators had already deduced this but had held onto hope, no matter how small, that their comrades and allies had survived and where simply unable to send a call. Harlon continued.

"Now, this may surprise some of you, but we have some good news out of this mess that means that the deaths of our brothers-in-arms weren't in vain." Atan blinked, as did many others. Just what good could have come from the deaths of hundreds of soldiers? And thousands upon thousands of civilians as well?

"First off, before I continue…bring 'er in, boys!" Harlon stepped to the side, dramatically raising his arms to the door where four troops were struggling to carry a what in the name of the gods was that.

It was unlike anything Atan had ever seen, some beast over five feet long and with hateful purple eyes. A strip of purplish-red carapace ran from its snout all the way to the tip of its short, thick tail, and its skin was a pale milky white. Studs of bone, the same color as its armor strip, dotted its powerful legs and arms, and razor-sharp teeth filled a reptilian maw. The most terrifying feature, however, were its arms: it had four of them, and the pair closer to its legs seemed fairly normal, ending in hands with five long, bony fingers tipped with small claws. These arms seemed very long, longer than the legs even, but the second, larger pair stole the show.

Short and muscular, they were the opposite of its first pair to the point where they didn't even have hands. These arms ended with the wrists fused to some sort of organic rifle, dotted with bony studs and with a series of small holes near the back. These openings, disturbingly enough, appeared to move as they grew larger and smaller in a rhythmic fashion. Tubes sprouted from the main 'body' of the gun, snaking upwards and into its chest. The razor sharp teeth, the eyes, and the general appearance of the creature all combined to make for a beast that seemed to go against the natural order and incite fear and revulsion in its foe. And amongst the communications officers, it would have succeeded had it not been restrained.

Thick bands of durasteel held its arms and legs to its body, a muzzle ensuring that it couldn't open its mouth in any way, shape or form. As an added and rather obvious precaution, thick cables held its head directly over the muzzle of its gun ensuring that if it fired, it would brain itself. As they stared, Harlon laughed and gave the creature a good smack on the side causing it to momentarily thrash against its bindings while growling. "Now, you see here this monster? This is one of the two creatures that are out there right now, giving our men hell. The other one doesn't have a gun, but has two big red claws instead. Apparently someone didn't tell these things that nowadays guns are the go-to weapons, unless you're a Jedi." Several of the operators as well as one of the brass snickered at that comment, but Atan was still worried. They had been beating them back all the way from the furthest corners of the island and now they, the natives were holed up in one city. Whatever these things were doing it was working. Harlon kept talking.

"Now, these bastards are putting the hurt on us because they outnumber us. A lot. Our estimates are that on this island we are outnumbered at least five hundred to one. BUT," Harlon shouted the last word to cut off any unpleasant morale effects as the men realized just how many invaders there were. "This is all they have. As you should have heard, the 12th Mechanized Infantry Division is here and do you know why? It's because one of our mechanized fighters can stomp these ugly bastards into the ground. They are more than a match for these ugly beasties," he slapped the captive alien again to emphasize his point before continuing. "And we've got more of them coming. The 9th, 10th, and 11th Divisions will be here in a few hours, and we've got a whole bunch of new toys for our ground-pounders too."

Atan smiled at that as some of his fellow colleagues grinned and laughed. They had been beaten back and tens of thousands of their people had died in agony to the invaders. But now they were ready, ready to go on the offensive and show why no one had tried to attack them before. One of the lower ranking officers frowned, however. "Wait, what about their air? Their space? I mean, they managed to bust through our fleet didn't they?" Murmurs of assent rose as he finished, many realizing the same point. What good was the strength and security of their ground armies when their enemies could attack them with impunity from the air? Harlon laughed, however, and several of the top commanders grinned.

"What about their air, you say? Well, here's the thing son: They have no air! Not a single damn fighter, or even any real anti-air defenses from the ground either! We rule the sky, and in a day seventy Bluethunder fighter-bombers will be here to support our attack. As for their space…I'll let Admiral Marki take this one." He stepped to the side as the soldiers dragged the beast over as well, several of the staff and officers staring at it. A well-dressed human stepped forward, and with a few taps on the console the map of the city disappeared to reveal the situation up above.

"As you have seen, the invaders managed to break through our ships to deposit soldiers on the ground. However, five minutes after they deposited their troops on this island their fleet broke off. They're still here, hovering around the moon, but our ships managed to drive theirs off." Cheers broke out at that moment, and Atan allowed himself a smile. Space superiority went a huge way for determining the outcomes of campaigns, and now it appeared that they had it.

"However," Marki continued, "This does not mean that we have won the battle up there just yet. Our reconnaissance ships show that their numbers are growing, at a far faster rate than ours. We can, at the moment, perhaps build twelve ships in two weeks as we have our shipyards working day and night. The reinforcements the enemy could receive is in the realm of about a hundred in the same time-span. We have two weeks, three at most, to drive the Swarm off of Raul Island and regain total control of our orbital defenses or our ships in space will be overwhelmed, our evacuation ships will be destroyed, and all of us are going to die."

A silence fell over them at that point, each operator digesting what they had learned and realizing what they would need to do. Marki nodded to Harlon, and the General confirmed their suspicions.

"We are gearing for a major assault, and the reinforcements that are arriving are only the start of it. Operation Riposte begins in 24 hours, operators. Sleep, eat, and get well-rested, because once our counterattack starts we will need everyone at top form. Dismissed."

As they shuffled out of the room, every man was silent. The importance of their roles weighed heavily on them, and each wondered whether or not he or she would fail, if he or she would be the one to make or break their counterattack. Atan was the same, wondering if he would be able to fulfill his tasks properly, but as he collapsed on his bed he could not help but wonder, Could this really be it? Could we really make it out, save everyone and escape, on these two weeks?

Will my brother live?

Then, his eyes closed and he fell into a long, dreamless sleep.


Massive, segmented tendril-like structures rose high into the air, covered in olive-green armor plates on one side and with fleshy undersides covered in what appeared to be teeth. These capillary towers were everywhere, some forming in trios around living vents that spat out clouds of spores, polluting the atmosphere and warping vegetation tens of miles away. The ground was barren, scoured down to the molecular level of all organic matter as the trees were stripped of their leaves, their bark, before being chewed down into nothingness by swarms of tiny, maggot-like rippers. Growling, howling beasts streamed out of seemingly innocuous holes in the ground, termagants and hormagaunts still shaking off the amniotic slimes that had covered them inside the brood nests. There was one hole, however, and this one seemed different from the rest.

Whereas the others were quite small, only large enough to allow two, perhaps three of the basic warriors that the Tyranids used through, one could have shoved a moderate house into this particular opening and still have room to squeeze into the tunnel. It did not have a steady stream of the basic warrior broods coming out of it, however. What was coming was far worse.

With a screech the Hive Tyrant stumbled out, its body still covered in mucus and its armored shell still in the process of hardening. Straightening its posture, it began to walk past the brood nests, past the spore chimneys and capillary towers, past the armies that were pouring from the nests as it mulled what it had learnt over in its head. Evidently its enemies did not know of the Hive Mind that they all shared.

It rumbled as it walked. Its enemies believed that these broods were the extent of its armies, that it did not have any aerial capacity, and that it was a complete and utter animal, a beast acting purely on instinct. They were planning on using soldiers that its fighters could not destroy head on to simply smash apart the hordes, and pound them into the ground with bombers and fighters.

Growling, the Tyrant stomped in the direction of the city, Athla; the location of its main threats while ordering the birthing of numerous powerful Tyranid creatures; Carnifexes, Warriors, Primes, and more. It had a plan in mind for its enemies, and if it worked the payoff would be enormous. Oh, and one last thing before it went to the front…

A ripper brood paused in its nonstop eating, before moving as one towards the Raul Island Defense Center. Once the natives reached the Center, the keystone to the evacuation effort and the orbital defense systems, they would find a nasty surprise waiting for them.


"DIE YOU ANIMAL BASTARDS DIE!"

"Calm down, trooper."

Tarsin snarled as he aimed and fired his gauss cannon, the slug slamming into a group of shooters sending bits of meat and bone into the air. A slasher pack attempted to rush him while his cannon cooled, however he disabused them of that notion as he crushed several by walking over them, the few that managed to latch onto his armor withering under a hail of blaster fire from the guard platoons supporting them.

"Come on, whose next you alien bastards!? COME ON!"

The Swarm, as if to answer his challenge, surged forward in a single mass; a tidal wave of flesh. Tarsin, his five MechIn squad members, and the eighty-odd soldiers reinforcing them braced, gritting their teeth as they prepared to take the horde…

Until it stopped. The Swarm all of a sudden, stopped in its charge, halting a mere fifty feet in front of them. The defenders stared, wary of some enemy ambush or secret weapon, until the beasts turned around and began withdrawing. They did not turn around and respond to the experimental potshots of the defenders, not responding even when Tarsin fired his gauss cannon again against orders, sending body parts flying. Orsax, Tarsin's squad leader swore violently.

"Dammit, Tarsin! What the fu-"

"They're on the run! Come on, let's get revenge for-"

"Tarsin, this is a direct order: Stand. Down."

The soldier growled, but refrained from pursuing the retreating horde. He opened his mouth to speak, but Orsax cut him off.

"I know how much you want to see these things burn for their attack, but we have our orders. We were supposed to get a taste of combat against these things before coming back so we know what we're going up against. We are not to try and retake the entire city with our tiny unit of men. Work out that aggression during the Operation, you'll have plenty of opportunities to crush the aliens then, understand?" Orsax's tone indicated that, whether or not Tarsin understood this would be the end of the discussion.

Scowling, the recipient of the lecture stomped away in his mech, soldiers hurrying out of the way of the angry pilot. Orsax sighed, and motioned for the other members of the squad to follow him as they made their way back to base. As his mech lumbered through the crowd of soldiers, he sat back and relaxed, listening to the myriad conversations surrounding him.

"Did you see what that cannon did? That was amazing!"

"You expect anything less? They're our Mech Infantry! Of course they're gonna be awesome!"

"Finally, looks like we're going to get better kill ratios than one to one."

"Yeah, still we aren't going to be able to rely on these guys too much. You see what they did when they managed to land a hit, right?"

"Oh, yeah, they're gonna have to get those repaired, aren't they?"

"Hopefully in time for the big push. I heard that we got three more divisions incoming."

"What, seriously? Damn, this is gonna be a cakewalk!"

Orsax smiled as he walked; everywhere on Dolran the Mechsuits were respected. Each the size of a house, armored like a tank, and armed with a variety of potent gauss and rocket weaponry that made a mockery of conventional armors, they were a force to be reckoned with and were the pride of Dolran's forces. They were feared in this region of space, and combined with the powerful defensive fleets were a major reason as to Dolran's continuing independence and existence. Of course, the power that they held did not stop foreigners from making fun of the mechs. Why?

Well, it could have been because they used primarily projectile weapons, which were regarded as slightly primitive compared to the constant usage of blasters that the rest of the galaxy preferred. Or it could be because the mechs themselves were shaped like giant, metal balls with arms stuck onto the sides, and tiny metal bricks with legs attacked on the bottoms. Yes, it was heavily armored while allowing the pilot some breathing room, yes it offered a good degree of mobility, yes there were a multitude of hatches and slots opened to reveal additional weapon emplacements, rockets launchers, and the like, but that did not stop them looking faintly ridiculous.

Of course, enemies who did laugh soon stopped when they were wiped off the face of the planet by flamethrowers, rockets, grenades, and gauss cannons, but that's beside the point.

As the platoon moved, Tarsin fumed as he walked. The invaders, the ones who massacred hundreds of thousands of good, honest citizens and brave soldiers of Dolran, had just ran away. They had just ran away, leaving their backs completely open and practically begging to be slaughtered. Hell, they didn't even respond when he fired his shoulder-mounted gauss cannon right into their pack and killed who knows how many of them! That was a golden opportunity to get a measure of revenge, no matter how tiny, on them and that stupid son of a bitch Orsax had just turned them around, wasting that chance. Asshole.

He shook his head violently. Dammit, Orsax is right; I'm gonna get a lot of chances to turn those bastards into a red, mushy paste. Might as well forget about it now, not like the amount I could have killed would have done much given how many of them there are…I wonder how Atan's doing? He smiled as he thought of his brother. He had always used to pick on the poor guy, always ordering him around. He grinned, as he thought of their respective positions. Looks like we switched places, huh, bro? Now it's you telling me what to do, where to go…

Tarsin grit his teeth, a surge of determination filling him. I swear, Atan, we are going to win this. You're going to tell me where to go and what to do, and I will succeed. We are going to win, then you, me, our parents, everyone is going to get off this planet alive.

and done. Now to get started on the next chapter which will be about the wookies and various refugee military forces going into the tunnels to investigate Anakin's discovery. Which, at my rate, is probably going to be done next year or something, but hopefully I'll be able to put out chapters at a faster rate.