Authors word of warning: this Chapter does contain a little nasty scene where a couple of my characters have rather messy and painful deaths. Those readers, ha, like I have readers, I don't think anyone's reading this! Who are sensitive about this type of thing be warned on this chapter. Anyway, on with the tale!

...

'Right, I'll show them for scratching my paintwork. I've had it with these Imperials. Let's get them. we'll do some damage at least!'

'With you, Gram! Ah, now we can get to grips,'

The only voice disagreeing was the droid. 'Sirs, do you realize the percentage improbabilities of winning in this situation?'

'Looks like metalboy doesn't like it. Shame. Come'on son!'

Gram and Matt smiled at each other, Matt was excited in charge of such a big cannon pointing at the Imperial ship.

A very brief firefight in the starry blackness of space above Nimbus 3 atmosphere took place. Well, some damage was caused. Maybe enough for, say half a day's work for one shift on the Star Destroyer. But Gram and Matt discovered to their cost that they should have listened to their droid. Because they where hit. Badly. Then fatally. A laser bolt cut their ship into two.

Now, any readers of a sensitive nature or young children, do not read the next couple of paragraphs. Just accept that Gram and Matt both had painful deaths. For everyone else...

Gram and Matt both perished. But not easily. Matt was in one section cut of by the bolt which caught fire and he was roasted to death. But he had it easy compared to Gram.

Gram was hit, painfully in the back and was rocked back in his seat, half-paralyzed. So he couldn't even reach his blaster to give himself an easier death. Life-support was off and poisonous chocking gas covered his section of ship. Plus he was frozen in the coldness of the atmosphere and was crushed by the g-force. So, slowly, over a number of hours, Gram was frozen, chocked, bleed and crushed to death. His body was found later with his face fixed in his death-scream!

Now, all right, that's not very nice! But that was the way some people did die in the fighting in space. This author is not convinced that all of the readers are fully aware of this fact. The only survivor in fact was the droid E-1234 who didn't need atmosphere and his head was later discovered on the planet's surface so he could be re-built.

On the Star Destroyer, Pelleaon congratulated himself on a job well done. As did Whitesnake later when he heard of the incident. He even mentioned it to Tarkin considering the importance of Gram and Matt. 'Promising material, this Pelleaon,' Tarkin commented.

'Indeed. I've seen his handiwork before. He has the credentials of one of our more intelligent officers. I remember a few months ago he was in charge of the Garston operation.'

'I don't seem to recall that, Whitesnake,'

'Well, it wasn't too significant, sir, more due to Pelleaon's attitude. He swiftly and effectly rounded up many Rebels. But he was aware that more where about and our resources where a little scarce and valuable on this occasion. So, he massacred them to the last Rebel a few hundred dead.'

'Heavy resistance?'

'No, sir, they had surrendered. But we couldn't afford to take prisoners, and Pelleaon knew this. No, it was cold-blooded massacre of prisoners. I saw the internal com-system of the events.'

'Hmmmm, like you say, promising material.'

But Tarkin was becoming very worried about this strike and it's possible reprecussions to the Empire. He, Vader and the Emperor had a high-level meeting about it after a few days. 'This strike seems to be going on longer than we had anticipated. I have even been forced to have a look at some of the Galactic balance sheets. We cannot go on like this. Even for one month more, we will go bankrupt. We might have to make major concessions. That would be the end for us. I thought we where in charge, not some workers,' was the Emperor's comments.

Vader made a suggestion, 'Now isn't it time I just used the Force to control the workers and make them go back to work if I cannot slay them all?'

Tarkin sighed, 'Because there's about half a million of them, Vader. Can your force control that many? No, thought not. But you are right, Sire, this strike is now serious. In fact, the next month could well be the time when we find out if it succeeds or not. But for now, we should hold our nerve. The Strikers do have the power of controlling the Turbosteel production, but the problem for them is that's the only power they have. We have others,

'Reports I have been getting say that many of the strikers are on the verge of returning to work due to starvation tactics. Fine, it obviously isn't as much as our propaganda says, but it is happening. They must crack soon. Lets hold on for a while yet.' Well, this wasn't as it happened a particularly inspirational speech but it did the job as far as the two Sith Lords where concerned.

Tarkin was correct about one thing, the Strikers where having problems of their own. The starvation tactics of the Empire where proving effective. The trickle back to work was becoming more widespread. Some plants such as those at Liverpool, Newcastle, Edinburgh, normally more militant had voted to return to work. There where definite signs of this becoming a flood.

But Arthur, the leader still remained defiant. 'We can't stop now. We have the Empire on the ropes. Surely we can keep this up for just a few weeks more.'

But others replied, 'A few more weeks? But we've heard this. Then some more and some more. For how long? and the only results we are seen is poverty and loss of wages. No, we're sorry, we appreciate your laudable aims, but we and our families need to live.'

The next Union exec meeting would be key. If it voted to return to work, the strike would collapse. That was just how these things worked. But Arthur and his allies calculated that they still had a wafer-thin majority.

Which was partly down to Dave. His vote might well be the key factor in this crucial meeting. Which could have been a good reason for him keeping of the Beer. But Dave found this so difficult. Even the evening before the meeting took place, he couldn't resist a trip down to his local Bar. If he had some of his friends about, they might have persuaded him to take it easy.

Matt, for example had developed some kind of a friendship with Dave and might well, considering the importance of the meeting, pesuaded to go for a meal in a local restruarant instead. But Matt, of course, was dead now along with Gram. Which grief simply presented Dave with another excuse for alcohol. 'Drowning my sorrows,' he would say, perhaps with justification, but he could overdo it.

Mr.N had considered himself a friend of Dave's. Indeed he had even promised to get into contact with Dave via phone or perhaps on the Computer and have a bit of a chat as an alternative to beer.

But unfortunately, Mr.N was at a party on the crucial evening where he didn't get drunk, but had a good time. But forgot totally to contact his mate, Dave.

Sarah, who was at the same party even reminded him about this, 'didn't you promise to get in contact with Dave this evening?'

'Ooops, forgot totally, well I'll do it tomorrow, can't be that important,' said Mr.N apologicatially and wrongly.

Mugwort, also may have been able to assist. But Mugwort was away on another mission and otherwise engaged. Well, he was up to his neck in swampy, fly-ridden water with a howling gale hiding from Imperials and getting wet to be precise. Dave's wife did give him a little bit of advice, but unfortunately Dave needed more help than that.

But Dave was sure that he was feeling all right, after one then two bottles of ale. Then he discovered there was some time to go and had time for one more. And one more. But still, Dave thought he felt fine. He even left the bar 15 minutes before close, which showed, thought Dave, how good he was been.

But what a hangover he had the next morning. Plus feeling absolutely slaughtered. His wife had gone out for the day and had given up talking to him about his drinking, so he was on his own. 'Naaah, go to the Union meeting later, sort out anything then!' was Dave's thoughts as he turned over in his bed at 8:00 and went straight back to sleep and ignored any attempts to contact him.

The meeting itself went on without him. Arthur was worried about been without such a key ally, but tried his best. Mugwort was away, and besides couldn't have performed his trick a second time.

So a crucial vote to return to work was taken. And those wanting to go back won by just one vote. Dave's absence was the deciding factor. Arthur resisted, but with the Exec voting to return to work, even narrowly, there was nothing he could do. Amongst those that had triumphed on the vote there was little real celebration. Even though they had won, they had done so with a heavy heart, knowing the consequences.

It was just that they couldn't keep up been without work and wages for much longer. Plus a little bit of Imperial intimidation was involved. When Dave later found out about the news he was horrified, especially about his absence. But it was now too late for that. The Strike was over, without the full support of the Exec.

A return to work, reluctantly, took place. Even amongst the Imperial propaganda, it was admitted that the return was noble, together and proud with the workers walking together in lines of thousands under Union banners, even singing and playing instruments. But a defeat it was. The Empire was relieved at the fact that it was the strikers that had blinked first.