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Jonathon Harris Space Force Base, Amidala City, Occupied Mars
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OK-7/8/35 quickly dried off from his cold shower in the oddly named 'Freshers' of the former Imperial Stormtrooper barracks. While it sure felt great to use the Empire's captured stuff, the enemy certainly had a way of incorrectly naming their things.
It took Private Oliver Khulmano three days to realize the restrooms and showers were called freshers after the word refreshment or freshen up. The Legionnaire shrugged his muscular shoulders and wondered what you could expect from space aliens who called the English language Basic Standard. There was something else called a sonic which the egg-headed combat engineers had explained used ultrasonic waves to shake loose the dirt and grime from your body. The thought had intrigued Oliver, who believed it must be something like a full body massage. Unfortunately, the few working sonics that were captured when the Margaritifer Terra Military District fell, had all been relocated to the much roomier officer billets for the pleasure of the generals and colonels. Even Captain Bygar hadn't held high enough rank to be issued one of the fancy devices.
There was a steady pounding accompanied by heavy breathing in the stall next to the one Oliver had just vacated. With the slap of wet, bare feet on shower tiles somebody slammed up against the opaque door of the stall followed by a long male moan.
Oliver called over the shower door and the noise of running water. "Yo! Who is rutting in there?"
"Go fuck yourself or I'll rut you." Came the expected reply.
Oliver chuckled. He recognized the angry bark of his best friend Private Ethan Thompson. "That you, E-T? Who you got in there with you?"
"I got N-R in here with me, you nosy bitch. You want a go at her, O-K?"
"Fuck you both. I rutted O-K last week and I didn't walk right for two days." Private Natalia Rostoc cut them both off.
"Make sure he wraps it up. You guys don't want penalty duty." Oliver warned Rostoc and Thompson. STDs and pregnancy were in direct violation of standing orders from not only General Onassi, who was leading the combined army that was in the process of occupying Mars, but from the Defense Minister, Admiral Akfar, in his new role as Chief of Operations of Space Force and thus the Confederate Legions. Going back to war with the Empire had brought up all new concerns surrounding new diseases and weapons they might encounter, one of the greatest of which was a new outbreak of the Martian Fester as more and more Imperial worlds fell to the CEN. Earth did not want to take another chance like that and sanitization and medical screenings were giving a top priority behind the front lines.
Rutting, however, was one of the favorite past times of the Legionnaires. Discovered in their teen years as part of the Confederate Youth Corps, screwing, fucking or fornicating as high command called it was about the only fun activity Legionnaires had for themselves. The idea of monogamy or marriage was known to the Legionnaires but it was more of a generally fuzzy concept to them. They were meant for one thing, to fight and die for the President. Best not to get too attached to any one other person. And so, Oliver had rutted, the Legions' slang term for it, nearly a quarter of the females in the 34th Legion. Legion ruts were violent, physical activities often resulting in bruises, cuts and sometimes broken bones, with little concern to rank. Oliver had rutted with several officers and even Corporal Lockwood when she was feeling randy. At the end of the day, everything they did was for the service of the President. Shouldn't they feel good about something during their meager hours of down time?
Oliver left Thompson and Rostoc to finish each other off. He didn't need to remind them about patrol. Duty was first-most in a Legionnaire's mind and being tardy to a patrol or guard duty automatically resulted in a beating delivered by your squad mates. Oliver believed it had been over a year since 5th Squad had had to discipline one of its members and certainly no one in the 788th Battalion had shirked a responsibility since the 34th Legion had landed on Mars nearly four months ago.
The captured barracks had finally been issued its own Chappie robot to assist the Legionnaires in donning their Mjolnir Battle Armor Systems. Before its arrival, Oliver and his mates had had to muscle the heavy exoskeletons onto each other with their own grit and sweat. Now the irritating machine effortlessly picked up and positioned Oliver's chest armor into place. For a Legionnaire who spent a lifetime in the gym, Oliver knew how much power was required for such a simple task. He could do it but it'd be a chore. The Chappie didn't even seem to notice as it went about its assignment. Bah, Oliver thought to himself, if robots were any good, they'd throw them at the holdouts on Olympus Mons rather than use those Army pukes for the dirty job.
The robot issued Oliver his trusty Battle Assault Rifle and Thor ipeg sidearm. The Legionnaire dutifully checked the serial numbers on the weapons to make sure he had been given his lucky BAR and not one of the others still in the racks. He didn't understand superstition, having never been instructed about the concept growing up, but he did understand results and this particular BAR had been with him ever since his squad had debarked on Mars and through the heavy fighting to wrestle away the Margaritifer Terra Military District from the Empire's 212th Legion.
"Dum dum rounds. One hundred meters. Safety on." Oliver told the voice command on his BAR. The weapon's indicator panel blinked in green several times to signal it had followed his directions before he slung it over his shoulder.
Oliver in all his battle rattle exited the barracks with his BAR at the ready. The scene before him was vastly altered from when he had first laid eyes on the Margaritifer Terra. The Imperial Military District had been half flattened in the three days the 212th Legion's Stormtroopers had defended the place. Now it was a sprawling hive of activity. Massive dirt movers, pushers and lifting machines with strange names like Caterpillar, AB Volvo, Hitachi and Liebherr moved mountains of destroyed wreckage and flattened a new six-kilometer-long runway named after the President along with scores of hangars and new prefab housing. Oliver stood entranced by the sheer magnitude of it all. The CEN was building a new city out here next to Amidala City and constructing it to mimic Earth cities back home. He wondered what it would be like to join those construction engineers and learn how to build something up. His whole purpose since joining the Legions was to tear things down.
Six Magnificent Transports were parked inside large unloading landing pads, where more construction equipment backed by towering cranes slowly unloaded them so they could turn around and return to Earth for another load. Civilian workers and Chappies by the thousands poured out of the ships. Mostly second classers and a few elite first classers, those civilians had come to Mars to run the planet and bend it to the will of the President. As the whole Galaxy should be, Oliver truly believed.
A large, yellow construction vehicle with an intimidating steel pushing blade and six elephant sized tires rolled down the road past the Legionnaires' barracks. A civilian second classer wearing a pathetic plastic hard hat smiled and waved at Oliver as he drove past. Oliver knew the proper response was to wave back but was unaccustomed to showing any deference to anyone not in the Legions. If the man had been a fourth classer Oliver would have been in his rights to kick the man's ass. Nobody cared about fourth classers. They were among the bottom billion as they were called in the Legions and they were never ever allowed to step foot off of Earth. The Galaxy wasn't meant for their kind.
"Look at this daydreaming asshole. Thinking about what shit construction job he'll have after the war." A pair of Legionnaires had been leaning against the side of the barracks when Oliver emerged.
Oliver didn't need to turn to see who had called out to him. The Brummie accents of Birmingham were enough to give them away. "At least I'm fucking thinking about what's going to happen after the war. You two are probably just going to jerk each other off forever."
That got a few laughs out of the pair. Privates Isaac Bastreen and Nasir Calfor were unique Legionnaires in the 34th. Unlike other Legionnaires, they weren't raised in the Confederate Youth Corps but instead inside refugee camps in what remained of the United Kingdom. They actually had a few memories of who their parents might be or at least an inkling that they were still alive somewhere back on Earth. Generally mistrusted by officers and noncoms due to the United Kingdom's traitorous alliance with the Empire during the Earth-Empire War, the knucklehead twins, as the rest of the squad called them, were natural scavengers, grifters and pack rats. If it wasn't nailed down, then it was considered fair game by the two Brits.
"You know my old man is a city miner at the Great London Hole. He might be able to hook up a git like you with a job after we take Palpatine Prime. You know there's a king's ransom for the bloke that digs up that fuckwit King William's bones." Basteren informed Oliver. Oliver didn't think anyone would ever claim that reward. After King William had killed himself and Grand Admiral Yutu in the most badass table turn in history, the Imperial Navy had Base Delta Zeroed the city of London in revenge. Both the King's and the Grand Admiral's corpses were likely atomized in the initial blast.
"Rather be burying people under rubble than digging them up. Besides I'm Legion for life." Oliver swore. He may have been interested in what the construction workers were doing but having any other occupation outside of being a Legionnaire was an idea that kept failing to form in his head. He lived to serve the President and wear the armor of the biggest, baddest soldiers in the Galaxy.
"You fucks heading to the motor pool?" Oliver asked.
"Um, yeah, O-K. The whole squad has the same patrol duty." Basteren gave Oliver a fishy stare.
"Just like always." Calfor snickered.
It was actually all of Delta Company's duty today. The whole company was going into another neighborhood of Amidala City for yet another security sweep. Oliver brushed off the irritating gibes from the two other Legionnaires as he had long grown used to their combined idiocy when they were together.
Oliver stood nearly a head over the two British Legionnaires, even though every Legionnaire stood at least two meters in Mjolnir armor, so he naturally led the way for the trio. As they marched towards the battalion motor pool, they edged one side of the newly completed runway. Two more tarmacs were still under construction on the far side of the first. The airstrip was lined with large B-3 Bombers brought over from Earth once they had an airfield to operate from. The advanced atmospheric bombers routinely departed at this time every morning. They made a three-thousand-kilometer round trip to bomb Imperial defenses atop Olympus Mons before returning every evening. Oliver liked to count them before they took off and again when they returned if he had time. Every now and then the count would be missing one or two of the bombers hinting that the 212th still had some fight left up there on the mountain.
"I can't believe those pussies in the Army still haven't got the ETs to throw in the towel. That Bitch on the Mountain can't have much fight left in her." Calfor mentioned the Legion's and the Army's collective nickname for Moff Hinter, the Imperial Governor of Mars. In the Legion the biggest fear was failing one's duty, especially in the face of the enemy. Cowardice was not accepted and the worst thing you could be called by your comrades was a 'pussy'. There had been several suicides during training by Legionnaires who had faltered during one aspect or another of the boot camp regimen. They took the only way out they could have to save some honor in the eyes of their Legion and their President.
"Olympus Mons is a big volcano. General Onassi sent twelve whole divisions up there to encircle the place and they've still got hundreds of holes in their lines." Oliver told them.
"I heard it's so big they can't even breathe at the top because it pierces into space or something." Basteren added. He was right. Even the B-3s couldn't bomb the peak as it towered above their effective operating range and had to be blasted by Space Force from orbit.
"That's why they left all their attack helicopters back here. The enemy's defenses are even higher than they can reach." Oliver replied.
"You believe any of this bullshit the civvies are saying?" Calfor asked. Evidently, he and Basteren had heard about it and were waiting to judge Oliver's response.
"You mean the fuckin' crap about how the Legions let the 212th slip away to the mountain so we could capture Amidala City?" Oliver responded with a growl. He wanted to spit out the taste of his fowl words but his helmet prevented it. "They were beat and we did happen to capture the motherfucking largest city in the motherfucking Empire. So, there is that."
"Yeah, fuck the civvies. They can go up and fight the Stormtroopers if they think they know a better way." Calfor said.
"Fuckin' ETs are going to run out of tibanna before too long up there. Army guys rotating back for R&R say the Imps only throw a few shells at them a day now. I've seen a couple of the prisoners they've brought in. They're looking on the skinny side if you know what I mean." Basteren put in. If anyone of 5th Squad had seen Imperial prisoners being processed it would have been these two. They had a way of being where they weren't supposed to.
"I always thought they got out of here a little too quickly when we jumped them." Oliver mentioned the initial landings and fighting on Mars a few months back. "They couldn't have brought enough food to feed a Legion for half a year, at the most."
"I hope the fuckers do starve up there. A billion of us starved after the last war. Sounds fair to me." Basteren suggested. Oliver agreed.
They arrived at the motor pool with nearly twenty minutes to spare. Hundreds of Legionnaires were slowly pouring in and, once locating their NCOs, falling in by units. Oliver saw Corporal Lockwood and Sergeant Rook standing at the forefront of 5th Squad in Delta Company's 1st Platoon's position. The three of then trotted over and fell into the growing formation. Rook was on the radio chatting with someone but Lockwood gave the three Legionnaires a hard look as they arrived to make sure they were squared away. Thompson, Rostoc and a half dozen more Legionnaires arrived and fell in several minutes later. The entire Company was formed up with ten minutes to spare.
"What the hell is going on? Bravo and Foxtrot Companies are here too. That's half the Battalion." Thompson whispered to Oliver after he had fallen in next to his friend.
"You got me. Whatever they got cooking, it's bigger than normal patrol duty." Oliver responded.
Rook took a quick count and reported the squad's readiness to Captain Bygar, who reported it to his boss. Four minutes later the three Majors walked to the front of the formations and reported the readiness status of their companies to the 788th's Colonel. The commander didn't address the Legionnaires. It would have been odd if he had. Legionnaires were not meant to understand their orders, merely to follow them. Oliver naturally assumed an Army officer would have made some kind of frivolous speech to his soldiers. Something to inspire them, perhaps. Legionnaires didn't need inspiration. All they needed was to not fail the President's will.
"Company Commanders, load your men. The 788th has been assigned eviction duties today." The Colonel announced. Then blew a whistle. His trademark signal for his Legionnaires to execute an order.
There was a whirl of activity as every Legionnaire turned and ran for their designated transport. Large, three ton cell powered trucks stood in the center of a makeshift convoy. Big, ten-wheeled Striker IV armored vehicles idled at the front as the column took shape, as a quartet of AMP Vs took up their place behind the armored scouts. Oliver rolled his eyes. It would be a long ride with the column forced to travel at the same speed as the slower walkers. The CEN still hadn't quite managed to mimic the speed, firepower and protection of the Empire's walkers in time for this latest war. They were on the right path, but it might take them another decade to match the Empire's AT-STs and they had nothing even close to an AT-AT yet.
As Oliver climbed aboard the squad's assigned truck, he wasn't surprised to see several pairs of Iroquois attack helicopters circling overhead. The Colonel and his staff rode aboard his personal Lakota transport helicopter followed by another Lakota fitted out with a wide array of electronic jammers to counter missile lock on the convoy or hyperwave activated IEDs from exploding underneath the roadway. Why the Imperials called them roadways and not streets, roads or highways was another mystery to Oliver.
"Eviction duty. That's a new one." Private Kappehl said from the back of the truck bed. He was performing a function's check of his backpack mounted heavy beam-tube. If the squad came up against anything heavier than a Stormtrooper then Kappehl would be the one they sent to deal with it. The fact that Kappehl's weapon had to be trained on a target for at least a minute didn't bode well for the Legionnaire's chances but it was a damn fine weapon against bunkers.
"About time, if you ask me. Way I hear it." Thompson started with the scuttlebutt which caused the other Legionnaires to lean closer despite hearing him just fine over their helmet comms. "They're going to bring in a million more 2nd classers over the next year followed by ten million more top classers once we get the 'Dala cleared of all the alien scum. Awfully nice of the Empire to build a whole brand-new city up here for us to take over."
"Legion Air and Space Force didn't even wreck it too bad during the initial invasion." Oliver added. "The way those construction crews repaired our airbase they should have 'Dala City repaired in the next few months."
The other Legionnaires looked at him strangely. It was an odd moment when a Legionnaire gave someone else a compliment. Even if the civvie construction workers on Mars were 2nd classers, which allegedly made them the equals of Legionnaires in the Confederate hierarchy, they were still civvies. And civvies were one step from being pussies in the eyes of the Legionnaires.
Specialist Mefran, brandishing her E3 phaser, was the first to laugh. "You love the civvies so much, O-K, you might as well pucker up and give them a kiss. Civvies can suck my dick." Her rude gesture towards her crotch elicited a hardy laugh from every Legionnaire in the back of the truck. They may routinely rut one another to pass the time but kissing was definitely seen as a sign of weakness. Kissing was something from the movies and performed by Army soldiers leaving their weak spouses behind on Earth. Kissing was the ultimate sign of affection and it had no place in the deadly, dog-eat-dog world of the Legions.
Sergeant Rook was the last to climb onto the back of the truck and took a seat across from Corporal Lockwood at the rear tailgate. "Alright you fuckin' pukes. I want everyone to stay sharp out there. The 787th did the first of these Evic Sweeps a few days ago. They took on the Negs and only cleared out six hundred units in a 48 hour, oops screw that, shitty world and its longer days, a fifty-hour operation. You bastards are going to beat that record or I'll send you all to replace those Army pussies watching that Bitch on the Mountain."
"We getting sent back into the Negs, Sarge?" Private Tonc asked from the front of the truck. Oliver had seen the Negs on previous patrols into the city. It was full of scumbags and villains. Supposedly, several rival drug gangs fought for control over the improvised sector of Amidala City. Now that the Empire had quit the city, the rival gangs only begrudgingly acknowledged their new Confederate rulers and their vows of obedience normally only lasted until the local CEN representative left the room.
"Nah, orders are to hit up some other neighborhood. A place called Malastare Heights." Rook informed the squad.
"Just another place full of ETs. And they all need to go. If they put up a fight, you're authorized to put them down. So be on your toes." Corporal Lockwood warned the squad.
"Maybe we should be careful going through with these evictions before we've fully conquered this planet. I'm all for giving the ET's the old heave ho, but we should make sure none of the civvies see what we're up to. They don't have the stomach to handle a bunch of dead aliens. The last thing we need is some bleeding-heart Senator raising a fuss and stirring the 3rd class into hysterics again." Private Casrich suggested. Everyone groaned at the wistful thought. Hard to have sympathy for dead aliens when they were still piling up dead Earthlings all around Olympus Mons.
Tonc must have been in the mood to stir up doubts this morning, "Casrich has a point. The last time a Senator offered even mild criticism of the military, it inspired those rednecks in Texas to assassinate their Governor and kick off a revolt. And we were the ones who had to clean up that mess. I'd prefer not to go through a shit show like that again."
That got quite a few nods of agreement. 4th and 3rd Classers had been starting trouble for years before the war. They were bound to wind themselves up again now that another war was on. How many Legions would need to get sent back to Earth over their nonsense was anyone's guess? Lockwood locked towards Tonc and Casrich, "Guess you didn't hear the good news out of Confederate Center then GT-8/18/42. Information just came down the grape vine from the High Command this morning. The Confederate Senate will no longer be of any concern to us. The President has dissolved the council permanently. The last remnants of the old way of governing have been swept away."
There were quite a few gasps of astonishment over the squad's communication channel. Oliver gave voice to what the others were thinking. "But that's impossible! How will the President maintain control without the bureaucrats?"
Lockwood laughed, probably because he knew she believed the concerns of the Senate were beneath the notice of the Legions. "The regional national leaders have been given direct control over their countries, and the President has direct control over them. Fear will keep the 3rd and 4th classers in line. Fear of the fucking Legionnaires."
That got a cheer out of 5th Squad. Calfor piped in. "Past time we got rid of those useless freeloaders in the Senate, if you ask me. Everyone knew they were worthless, even if they were 1st classers. The only reason they were kept around was to keep the idealists in the 1st and 2nd class pacified. Fucking hippies can go fuck themselves."
Lockwood was always the one to preach to the squad that nothing, except the President's executive orders, came out of Confederate Center unless it reeked of bullshit. "Personally, I don't know why the President even bothered with a Senate. The Confederacy has always been concerned with strengthening the true humanity over the alien universe. That strengthening requires a single ruler with a single vision. Having a bunch of politicians sit down and fucking debate every fucking idea on how to implement that vision never made sense to me. All that chatter shit ever did was slow us down and keep us from doing what needed doing."
Oliver couldn't agree more, and not just because it came from a superior. If it didn't wear Mjolnir Armor it wasn't to be trusted. "Civvies have always been weak and self-centered. The President is wise. He knew they had to be eased into the new role the Confederacy is forging for Earth. He had to compromise and accept a Senate to make the noncoms feel involved and represented, so they'd support him. Now though, with the Confederacy and its military dug in and growing stronger, we don't need to be held back by their bullshit anymore. We're changing the face of the galaxy, even if we have to drag the rest of the civvies kicking and screaming with us.
Private Mefran, like any damn American, always wanted more of an explanation. "Corporal, did they mention any reason for why the Senate was disbanded?"
Corporal Lockwood shrugged. "Take your pick. The Ministry of Information is saying they can't risk the Senate being compromised by Clawdites or Jedi with the war on. CNN is reporting it as a war-strategy to prevent division and the diversion of elections until the war is won in another couple months. Personally, I think the President decided that our tax dollars are better spent on rifles than on a diamond ring for some Senator's rutting side piece."
Rostoc leaned forward like she had a secret, though Oliver usually thought she was generally the last one to know anything in the squad. "I heard a few Senators were taken in for questioning. Some kind of delegation of like twenty or so Senators wanted the Senate to stay up and running. Supposedly they had some connections to the Underground."
Thompson elbowed Oliver as he gripped his own BAR in anger. "Bullshit. There is no underground. All the big extremist groups got swept up by the Army by the end of '41. Everyone knows that."
"The Army is worthless. Every Legionnaire knows that. Couldn't even take Vegas back in the last war. So what if they took out some malcontents at the end of the last war? I imagine they let a whole lot more get away." Lockwood stated with all the authority of a junior NCO.
Thompson wasn't sold quite yet on the presence of an organized resistance back on Earth. "Yeah sure, a few losers from the 3rd class self-radicalize and try to cause trouble every few years. Hell, we had to deal with that down in Texas and over in Chechnya before the First Order showed up. But are you seriously telling me there's some vast, shadowy world-wide conspiracy back on Earth working to bring the Confederacy down? Please. They would have been caught and fucking hung by now."
Sergeant Rook pointed a finger at all of them. "The President says there's an Underground. If he says these terrorists are real, then they're real. You questioning the President, Private?"
Oliver spoke up before his best friend could say anything stupid to the Sergeant and get them all in trouble. "The President is smarter than all of us. Maybe there is an Underground. Maybe there isn't. Maybe he's making the whole thing up to draw out traitors and saboteurs. Either way he's smart to keep everyone guessing. It causes traitors to reach out and get caught by the CIA, and it keeps us Legionnaires on our toes and on the lookout for sabotage."
The trucks suddenly shook as they traveled down the road towards Amidala City. Oliver peaked out the back and saw another large convoy of trucks and armored vehicles heading back to Harris Air Base. They were heavily laden with plunder and whatever the officers labelled as essential war materials to be shipped back to Earth. Most of this particular convoy looked to be depowered airspeeders going back to Earth for reverse-engineering. That the whole operation might be theft on a grand scale never crossed Oliver's mind. The ETs deserved what they got.
Shadows fell across the trucks as the convoy entered the city. Large buildings called cloudcutters blocked out the sun. Sergeant Rook raised the armored shutter on the back of the cargo bed so the Legionnaires could see out the back end. Every dozen blocks or so, an entire block would be nothing more than a giant mound of rubble, the results of Space Force's initial bombing of the metropolis during the invasion. Oliver wondered how many alien corpses were still buried under those piles of crushed, red mortar. Hopefully a lot, he thought.
The streets were filled with shambling aliens being directed by traffic cops at each intersection. The cops wore red Stormtrooper armor and called themselves the Amidala Guard. For every visible alien policeman there were four or five Army soldiers standing behind a sandbagged barricade watching the alien go about his work. The Amidala City Guard filled a role for now. How long they would be needed before police from Earth replaced them was anyone's guess. Many of the aliens had been organized into work crews which attacked the piles of rubble with picks and shovels. More Army and a few Space Force Marines kept the workers at their tasks. Oliver spotted a walking walrus man with large tusks on his alien face and wanted to vomit inside his helmet. Aliens were disgusting. Hopefully the President had a long-term plan for dealing with them. New Mandalore was bad enough, having aliens inside the conquered territories of the CEN was a troubling thought.
They arrived in a large, public square that was completely surrounded by concrete barricades, barb wire, guard towers, and sand bagged pillboxes. On nearby rooftops the snouts of NBS Mantis anti-air cannons pointed to the empty sky, on guard should the Empire ever return. Oliver thought it was an empty gesture since the President promised Mars would be held forever now that it had been almost recaptured. On one side of what had once been dubbed Tarkin Square, the black edifice of Tarkin's Tower lay toppled over into the Yos River where it had dammed the river for several hours until enough floors had burst to allow the water to flow freely through the former military headquarters. The sight was one of the favorite shots for the Ministry of Information, who filmed hundreds of hours of footage of the toppled building for people back on Earth. Tarkin's Tower had been the spot where the Empire had directed the destruction of Earth during the last war. Its current state was vindication for billions of lives lost.
Tarkin's Tower and the Yos took up two sides of the square, while the others were edged by the now empty Imperial Mercantile Exchange and the vacated Martian Imperial Palace. As Tarkin's Tower had been replaced by the Rhombus on Palpatine Prime during the interwar years, the Imperial Mercantile Exchange had been surpassed by the Galactic Mercantile Exchange of Muunilinst Secundus as had the palace here on Mars been seconded when Empress Phasma moved to the Yos Royal Palace on Palpatine Prime where she started her growing family.
Now the Martian Palace, the former home of Emperor Aveo Yos, the Incinerator of Earth, was occupied by members of High Command. A massive antennae tower on the palace's high walls transmitted signals back and forth from Confederate Center. The Palace was the current residence of Governor Gahan as well as the city garrison commander General Falltower and his headquarters. The palace's large assortment of artwork had already been removed and sent to museums back on Earth and replaced with the furniture and mass-produced artwork and decorations of any office building found back on Confederate Center.
The trucks were parked in neat rows that filled nearly the entire square. They idled with their fuel-cells running filling the air with the sweet smell of ozone. Officers conferred with one another for nearly an hour before they pulled their heads out of their butts and decided which battalion went where during the operation. Oliver never figured out how one became an officer but it certainly wasn't based on quick decisiveness. Hurry up and wait was a game as old as there had been militaries on Earth.
The fuel-cell trucks engaged their advanced triple-disk carbonite brakes as they arrived at their final destination. Oliver barely felt the lurch as the vehicle came to a stop. Rook and Lockwood were the first out of the truck. As soon as they hit the ground they were already shouting at the Legionnaires to hustle.
Legionnaires formed a perimeter anchored on several armored vehicles with heavy machine guns. The perimeter was several kilometers long and encircled a large portion the local neighborhood. Another truck pulled up alongside theirs and 5th Squad quickly emptied it of barb wire barricades which they stretched across the road to minimalize access points. Several large flatbed trucks rolled in behind the Legionnaires carrying armored bull dozers which the combat engineers quickly unloaded. AMP 5s towered over the Legionnaires and trained their blasters and chain guns on the alien civvies slowly emerging from their homes to see what this new Confederate invasion of their neighborhoods would mean.
The Malastare Heights were what Oliver would have considered 2nd Class back on Earth. It was situated on a small stretch off the cliffs of the Ares Vallis and overlooked the city below. The massive Long Jump Casino was located beneath the sector and could be reached by a short drive. The homes in the Malastare Heights were arranged in neat rows of small surface domes that blocked massive circular pits in their back yards. The pits were luxurious by Oliver's standards and could house several families at once if they needed to. Some of them had been converted into landing pads which were protected from Mars' blustery winds by the pit's sunken walls. Nearly every starship had long fled Mars as soon as the Legions had arrived and stood largely empty besides a handful of derelicts. Space Force had been too focused on the invasion to prevent many of them from fleeing coreward where those escapees no doubt gave aide to the rapidly dwindling Empire.
Legionnaires by the hundreds poured into a formation in the center of the neighborhood. Big muzzled German Shepherds barked at all the commotion going on around them. Oliver wondered if the dogs knew they were on a different planet. Officers pulled out new GPS digital maps based off the data pouring from the new satellites Space Force had left in orbit. They pointed left and right indicating which way they wanted their men to deploy. Helicopters circled overhead, their LIDAR sensors hunting for heat sources in each of the homes.
Captain Bygar evidently wanted to address his platoon before he sent them into the alien living quarters. Oliver pressed closer to the Captain, wondering what the Captain would have to say that was so important. A pair of strange blue, fishy aliens, which Oliver later learned were called Mythrols stood about with big smiles on their faces. Evidently, they were members of a rival gang that ran this section of Amidala City and were all too happy to assist the CEN in cleaning it out. That's aliens for you, Oliver thought, no loyalty whatsoever. Captain Bygar walked up and down the front ranks of the platoon. His face was probably scowling under his helmet after being saddled with the two grinning alien turncoats.
Bygar's voice carried across his helmet's speakers and the platoon channel. "This is history. And you are part of it. Twenty-six Earth years ago a ragged bunch of aliens landed here on Mars and most likely butchered our unarmed research team. They spent some time terraforming this world into the cold, miserable rock we stand on today. They called themselves the heirs of the 1st Galactic Empire, a galaxy spanning government far, far away. We have learned from our allies that the 2nd Galactic Empire under Empress Yos is a mere shadow of what the other Empire was. It's true heirs, the First Order, followed the 2nd Galactic Empire here to punish the ETs in the Milky Way for their treason. We shall help them complete this task when we reach Palpatine Prime and burn Empress Yos out of her home. Empress Yos helped her father burn Earth so it's only fitting."
"Though her subjects settled half of what you know as the Bloodstripe Run, they left a large portion of their previous population here on Mars, where they have taken hold. They prospered. In business, science, education and the arts. They came here with nothing. And they flourished. Think about that. By this evening, those twenty-six years are a rumor. They never happened. Today is history." Bygar concluded.
The captain dismissed them, "Stick with your squads. Your sergeants know your assigned sectors. Clear this alien scum out."
The Legionnaires spread out into the vast sprawl of homesteads. The two-meter tall, armored killing machines smashed in door after door. One out of every three homes was already abandoned by aliens who had fled before the occupation but soon shouts and screams sang out from the remainder.
It was no more than a minute when the first shot rang out from several houses away from the one Oliver and Thompson were breaking into. Perhaps it had been merely someone shooting away a lock on a door but it was answered by a rattle of gunfire down the block and then several more pops and bangs. This was supposed to be an eviction, but if the aliens were stupid enough to resist the orders of the President, then they deserved what they got.
By the time Thompson and Oliver kicked down the door on the first house, Basteren and Calfor had already repelled down into the landing pit behind the home and were in the process of ransacking it. Oliver and Thompson shook their heads at the two Brits. What use was loot to a Legionnaire? Every need or want they ever had was issued to them by the Quartermaster's Corps. They had little use for entertainment outside of inter-Legion sports and gambling was strictly forbidden in the Legions. Their pay was almost an abstract that few of them understood and was managed by the Confederate World Bank, which put it aside in savings accounts that were hardly ever touched. Loot and possessions were not something that commonly crossed their minds.
After Oliver had entered a room, he was startled by how small the furniture was. Even in the Confederate Youth Corps everything that had been given to him was sized for an adult. This was the room of a child. On the small bed was a stuffed figure. He leaned down to take a closer look and was mesmerized to discover it was the figure of a Stormtrooper. Did alien children play with toys made in the most familiar face of the destroyers of the Earth? He'd never seen or heard of a kid back on Earth playing with a Legionnaire toy before.
There was a commotion outside and without thinking Oliver stuffed the Stormtrooper doll into his thigh pouch. When Thompson and Oliver reemerged from the empty home they came across Privates Kappehl, Tonc and Rostoc pulling an alien family out of a side building where they had obviously been hiding. They were human-like aliens but with ashen white skin and black stripes tattooed across their faces, including the four children, the youngest of which looked no more than two years of age.
"Clear out. Grab what you can but get the fuck out of this city." Tonc yelled at the aliens.
"Hold up." Sergeant Rook appeared on the scene. He was carrying an iPad in his hand as well as a handheld DNA scanner. The genetic testing devices were in wide spread use back on Earth where fears of alien shapeshifters had stuck around long after the last war. Rook stepped to the father and mother of the group and scanned both of their eyes and then, with a pneumatic needle attached to the device, took a tiny blood sample from each of them. After a few seconds the results of his test spelled out across his iPad. "Bpfasshi. Let them go."
The Legionnaires backed away as Rook turned to the parents. "Take whatever you can carry and leave the boundaries of the 'Dala. There's food in the towns to the north. If you have a cart, you can use it but all motorized vehicles of yours are property of the CEN."
The father and mother bowed as they backed away from Rook. It turned out that they did have a cart that levitated. The oldest children and the parents rapidly loaded what they could onto it. The small girl cried and cried as she watched her family turned out from their home. The mother was too hurried to comfort her.
Something natural took over in the back of Oliver's mind. Before his discipline could keep him in check, he had pulled out the doll from his storage pouch and held it out to the little girl. Her eyes went wide in recognition of the offered Stormtrooper toy. Her little hands nervously took back what was in all probability hers to start with. "Thank you."
Her little voice startled Oliver. It was the most helpless sound he had ever heard. He didn't know what else to do and he hated himself for that. The loss of control. "Go. Just go."
Oliver stepped away from the child and hurried away to join his squad at the next house. The sooner he put those Bpfasshi out of his mind the better. He ran into Tonc and Rostoc at the next house. "Hey, G-T, N-R, what's up with that test thingy the Sergeant is running?"
Tonc shrugged his Gallic shoulders. "Another General Order. They're up to seven hundred and thirty some of the fucking things now."
"Came down from the Ministry of Improvement. They're looking for a male and female example of every type of alien they can get their hands on for some sort of camp they're setting up at that creepy abandoned Dishonorable East Empire Company facility that Military Intelligence cordoned off." Rostoc said. Oliver wondered who she had rutted for that type of information. "You know, the one with all those weird incubators. I suppose the Ministry wants to breed 'em or something."
"Great. Just what we fucking need. More ETs." Oliver griped.
A radio call came in that they were needed at a large homestead up the street from their location. The conversation about what General Order 731 was about ended immediately and the members of the squad appeared from every direction. They assembled without a word and then, as if they were under fire, moved tactically through several backyards to reach their new assembly area at the driveway of the home in question.
The road in front of the large homestead was the main thoroughfare. It was jammed full of the detritus of the Empire. Refugees by the hundred pushed carts laden to the sky with their belongings. Most carried large sacks or rucks on their back as Legionnaires and Military Police stared daggers at them. Patrol dogs snapped and growled at the evictees and strained at their handlers' leashes. The alien traffic jam was slowly shuffling out into the wastes. Oliver didn't know if someone really had food for them out there, but he didn't really care either. Orders were to clear the city for settlers from Earth and that's what would happen.
In front of the homestead a very tall alien was trying to plead with the Legion and Army officers currently ransacking what could only be called a mansion by Imperial and Earth standards. Did an Imperial 1st Classer live here, Oliver wondered? The two Mythrol from what Oliver later found out was a gang called the Crimson Dawn, were nearly dancing with glee as they watched the place be taken apart.
Oliver looked to the big alien talking to several officers, one of whom happened to be Captain Bygar. The Legionnaire may have only landed on the planet but he had seen this three-eyed type of alien before. They were called Grand, or Grams or something close to that, he recalled. He only remembered them from previous patrols because of the striking feature in the middle of their face; three eyeballs atop three very separate eyestalks. Oliver shuddered, it looked unnatural. A dozen of the same aliens stood behind the large one pleading with the officers and Oliver could see hundreds of the tricloptic aliens making up a large portion of the evictees from this particular neighborhood.
"Please, please, my friends and neighbors, do not give them a reason inflict harm upon you." The tall alien begged the crowd. Some of whom had fought back against the Legionnaires and paid the ultimate price. Their bodies lay along the side of the eviction column. Refugee mothers covered their children's' eyes from the bloody corpses.
He turned and pointed an accusing finger at the officers in front of the homestead. "How can you do this? We've done you no wrong. We are no threat to your military which defeated our own. Are you not blessed enough to hail from the home world of the Savior?"
The officers laughed heartedly at the three-eyed alien. "We got Jesus freaks up here. The Empire has these nut jobs too?"
"The Martian Christian Church has been a beacon of hope for thousands across the Empire. The teachings of our Lord Jesus Christ have taught us to love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be sons of your Father in heaven."
"Where was Jesus when the war came to Earth? Where was Jesus for the three billion who died?" A Major from Foxtrot Company asked the religious alien.
"Besides, I belong to the Guardians of the Whills." Another Foxtrot officer interjected. "We now know there is nothing more powerful than the Force in the universe. We actually saw its power demonstrated by the Ashla."
"Blasphemy! The Force is selective and chooses a few. Jesus embraces us all!" The alien got in the face of the Major and screamed.
"That's it. Somebody grab this asshole." The Major snapped.
Several Legionnaires moved forward and grabbed the offensively, arrogant alien. More of his kind rushed forward to his assistance and a small scuffle unfolded. It was over in a matter of seconds and in the end the Legionnaires had eight of the "Grand-ish" aliens in custody. A group of more Legionnaires had formed a line between the captives and an increasingly worried crowd.
"Line up these fucking Gran in single file." The Major ordered. That was it. They were called Gran. Oliver knew he had been close. "We'll show them what happens when you fuck with the Legion."
The eight Gran were lined up against the wall of the homestead with the tall one specifically placed at the rear of the line. Captain Bygar pushed the front Gran back until they were all tightly pressed back-to-front to each other. He turned and spotted some of 5th Squad standing nearby. "OK-7/8/35, get your ass over here."
Oliver rushed to obey. And ran over to a position where he was standing four meters in front of the line of Gran.
"Legionnaire, pull out your E3." The Major barked at Oliver.
Oliver automatically did as he was told. He somehow realized what was about to happen, despite the fact that no one was bothering to throw charges at the new prisoners. They were to be executed out of hand to demonstrate the power the CEN held over anyone who lived in the newly conquered territory of the Confederacy.
"Single shot from your phaser, son. Let's run an experiment to see whose tech is better." The Major suggested. "Go ahead. Fire."
There was a small flash of light as Oliver discharged his weapon. The phaser bolt caught the first Gran right in the chest. The alien bore a shocked look upon his face and then his eyestalks rolled back and he fell forward, dead. There were screams from the crowd. They were no longer pushing against the Legionnaire barricade but many of them were starting to fade away and leave the area, lest they be captured next.
"One? That's pathetic. Now use your BAR." The officer ordered. Once again Oliver obeyed, holstering his E3 Phaser sidearm and unshouldering his BAR, which he again pointed at the frightened line of prisoners. "Fire."
"Twenty yards. Anti-personnel." Oliver said as he squeezed the trigger. This time it was much louder as the gun fired. The bullet ripped through five of the Gran splattering their blood and guts on the alien situated behind them.
Two Gran survived. The Major was laughing when he stepped forward and over a few of the bodies sprawled out on the ground. Without a word he snapped off a shot from his pistol into the forehead of the first Gran who instantly dropped dead.
The tall Gran was last. Oliver had heard enough 3rd and 4th Classers back on earth to recognize that the Gran was praying the Lord's Prayer right up to the minute the Major's next bullet entered his brain. He toppled over and fell into the pile of his dead brethren.
"Frek Frek!" A female Gran in the crowd wailed in a mix of anguish and rage. More of her kind had to pull her away from the scene. The line of Legionnaires was ordered forward and they pushed and cleared away the witnesses.
An hour later the eviction column had been forced out of the neighborhood. Officers laughed but the Legionnaires did not relax. They could feel they were being watched. Many aliens had stayed and were now in hiding. More Legionnaires marched into the neighborhood armed with heat sensors and listening devices.
Gunfire erupted from every corner as civilian aliens were hunted down and done away with. Houses started to burn along every block.
Thompson sidled up to Oliver several hours into the long operation as the sun started to dip below the western horizon. "I wish this fucking day was over."
"There is one good fucking thing about today." Oliver said.
"Oh, yeah? What's that?"
"Doing shit like this means the war is just about over."
"How do you figure?"
Oliver turned to watch the big homestead collapse in on itself in a towering pyre. "How much fight can the Empire still have if they let us do this to their own people?"
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Up Next- Resting on their Laurels