After three tumultuous years of academy training, naval service, and numerous disciplinary actions, Han found himself brought before a tribunal for by far his most egregious offense. He fidgeted as he was led before the assembled officers of the court-martial.

"Ensign Solo," said the military judge, breaking the silence of the past few minutes. "I still can't decide if you're brave or stupid."

Han shrugged sheepishly. "Well, I'd like to think I'm a little of both, sir... Uh, Moff. Sir... Sir Moff?"

"It's Commodore," the judge said with a frown. "And if you think smart-ass is the way to go here, you're sorely mistaken."

"Commodore. Fellow Imperials. If you'll allow me, Onyx Two..." Han gestured to his friend who had been aboard the designated gunboat. "Onyx Two was flanked by pirates. If I had followed Command's directive and returned to formation instead of going after them, the vessel would have been destroyed and those on board would be dead now."

"You hijacked the Imperial gunboat on which you were stationed to then defy a direct order. The damage incurred by the gunboat in the following exchange directly caused the mechanical failures that led to the crippling of a light cruiser's internal drydock and the loss of half the automata therein. Orders and ranks exist for a reason, Solo. There is no place for maverick heroics in the Emperor's Navy."

"I'm not trying to be a hero, Commodore. Trust me, I..." Han trailed off. He sighed, realizing he could not talk his way out of this one.

"Well, congratulations. You're not one. This tribunal - me in particular - finds you guilty of insubordination, hijacking, and destruction of Imperial property. It is only by the testimony of two of your commanding officers that you are spared a charge of mutiny and summary execution. You are hereby reassigned to the Imperial Army 224th. Report for immediate transfer to Mimban."

"Oh," said Han, chuckling and relaxing somewhat. "I thought that was going to be way worse. And, uh, roughly when do you think I'd be able to sail again, Commodore?"

"Oh." The Commodore let out an amused huff. "We'll have you on the water in no time."

Mimban was a stretch of dense rainforest situated between two high mountain ranges regarded since ancient times as impossible to capture. The snaking Å River flowing through the valley often overflowed its banks during the frequent rains, leading the Mimbanese to construct a great system of polders and dikes. For millennia, both the native population and the many immigrated humans lived quietly farming and mining the land.

The Empire took a keen interest in the vast supplies of high grade metal ores in the mountains and Great Plateau of Mimban. Further, passage through the valley would save up to a month of travel time across the continent by bypassing three mountain ranges. When Mimban refused to accept an extortionary treaty, the Empire responded with force.

While the first few weeks of the invasion saw sweeping Imperial success, ultimately the failure to take a key fortress and the ridge it defended ground the advance to a halt. Vicious Mimbanese counterattacks prompted the Imperial forces to dig in and the campaign devolved into trench warfare.

The Empire launched offensive after offensive pushing the frontline every time, though at a shocking cost of life. The Å River became so choked with mud that it ceased to flow as a river and flooded the land, reducing it to a single massive quagmire. Roads, houses, everything was either swallowed by the morass or blasted into oblivion by indiscriminate bombardment. Where once there was jungle, now all that remained were dead and stripped trunks pointing skywards like accusing skeletal fingers.

It was to this living embodiment of Hell that Han was assigned. No sooner had he arrived than he found himself thrown into the meat grinder.

In the humid early morning hours, Major Staz's whistle pierced the silence left by the cessation of artillery fire. As one, thousands of shouting voices rose from the Imperial trench lines. A wall of grey armored soldiers climbed free of their glorified ditch as though the occupants of a mass grave had returned to life.

Gunfire and field cannon shells greeted the Imperials as they trudged across the blasted grey ground of No Man's Land. Han watched a squad ahead of him vanish in an upsurge of mud, leaving no trace of the men to be found when he reached where they had been. Off to his side, a Mimbanese Puckle gun position concealed in a crater let loose a volley of shells that cut down another squad. More rounds tore past Han and the soldiers beside him. They dropped and pressed themselves into the foul mud.

Han and his comrades cracked off a few potshots, but the Puckle shots whistling by forced them to keep their heads down.

"Rio," Sergeant Val cried out. "You've got to take out that gun!"

"Gotcha! Korso, keep 'em distracted! I'm going to swing around!"

"On it!" Korso set up his portative Treeby gun and let loose.

With inhuman agility, Corporal Rio bounded across the ground with a pair of stick petards in his hands. He vaulted over any obstacles effortlessly, dodging incoming fire all the while. Before long, Rio had managed to flank the Puckle emplacement and dove into a crater nearby.

Two armed stick petards arced out from the crater and into the emplacement. Chained explosions rocked the area, spreading a limited distance into the camouflaged trenches behind. Wood, metal, and mud flew skywards to rain down over the next few seconds.

Captain Beckett wasted no time in ordering a push into the newly-made gap before the Mimbanese second line could move up and fill it. Han clambered to his feet and ran forward while firing off a few bullets. He tried to cock his carbine again only to find it had seized. "Cheap Imperial crap!"

Captain Beckett had since caught up to Han and offered his carbine. "Take this!" He then drew a matching pair of nonstandard issue heavy caliber broomhandled flintlock revolvers. Beckett ran forth while yelling encouragement.

As the Imperials moved up for the final push into the trench, a rain of Mimbanese light mortars descended on them. The soldiers took cover where they could and Han again found himself with the Captain. The ground around them shook with tooth rattling intensity.

"It's goin' to be fine," Beckett said, his smooth drawl somehow adding a bit more credence to his claim.

Han scowled. "How is it going to be fine?!"

"Just tryin' to make you feel better."

The bombardment finally tapered off and several soldiers stood to continue the charge only to find that the Mimbanese had successfully filled the gap. Rifle fire erupted from the camouflaged trenches and chewed apart anyone who drew near.

Korso did his best to give support to his comrades and succeeded in taking out more than a few foes, but he could not match their numbers. A petard landed next to him. He tried to stand and run but the boggy ground and his armor hindered him too much. The blast threw him through the air for him to land in a shell hole.

"Korso's down!" Captain Beckett yelled. He rushed out, beckoning Han. "Follow me!"

Han and Beckett moved across the sodden ground as quickly as they could while trying their best to keep a low profile. The shell hole was mercifully out of the direct line of fire and Korso had landed on the side closest to the Imperial lines.

Beckett grabbed the top of Korso's armor to help him to a sitting position. The gunner groaned in pain.

"Get the other side," Beckett ordered, beginning to drag the gunner by his pauldrons. "We got you, buddy."

The Imperial soldiers dragged Korso Back across the broken ground. All around them, the surviving men of the by now repulsed attack retreated to their own lines.

Han and Beckett pulled Korso up to the parapet where after the men inside the trench helped lower him down. As one of the men rushed off for a medic, Korso's saviors climbed in to join him. Beckett knelt next to the injured man. "Korso? Korso, can you hear me?"

A raspy breath was the answer.

"The medic'll be here soon. I'm just goin' to remove your armor. He can help you quicker that way." Beckett undid the buckles and pulled the perforated metal away.

Korso's chest plate ended up being the only thing holding his belly together. When it was removed, blood and gore spilled out onto the duckboards. Nothing could have been done for him.

In the end, removing the chest plate had been a mercy as it let the doomed man bleed out faster. By the time the medic arrived, Korso was gone. Beckett silently shook his head at the medic, who nodded and moved on to the next man in need of aid. The Captain closed the dead soldier's eyes.

Han had seen people die, but always from a distance. To actually be able to watch the life fade from someone's eyes was a far different experience. All the pent up stress from everything that had just happened finally spilled over. He turned his head away and vomited.

This day was not half over but by the time it was, thousands of fresh corpses would litter the mud with nothing to show for their sacrifice. The callousness with which Major Staz would speak of these deaths the next day chilled Han to his core. "Acceptable losses," he would say.

The hours of this existence turned to days, then to weeks. Han grew as accustomed to his hot muddy home as one can become. Despite the lack of any further attacks, the killing did not cease. Day after day, he witnessed young men senselessly die a horrific death in this place purpose built for such. As had been true for the past three years, Qi'ra remained Han's sole tether to maintaining both his sanity and his humanity.

All too soon, more meat for the grinder arrived to wage General Erich Falk's newest grand offensive. Many of the faces looked no older to Han than sixteen. When the day of the attack finally came, Han stood shoulder to shoulder in the trenches with ten thousand of his fellow Imperials.

The keening of Major Staz's whistle sounded over the trenches. Alongside his comrades, Han climbed the makeshift ladder out of the sodden hole he called home. The first Mimbanese trench fell swiftly thanks in large part to the Imperial creeping barrage. Still, the assault continued.

Halfway across the ocean of mud that lay between the Mimbanese trenchlines, Han was thrown by an artillery shell's explosion. He and the ground upon which he had been standing landed unceremoniously in the quagmire. Han lifted his face from the muck and gasped for air.

Nearby, Major Staz waved his saber high over his head. "Your Empire needs you! Soldiers, forward! Solo, get up! We're almost there!"

Han spat out a mouthful of sour mud. "Almost where? Where even is our objective?"

"Just over that ridge! Victory is-" Major Staz disappeared in a mortar blast.

Han ran for cover as more shells rained down. He dove into a flooded shell crater to find several of his comrades, though many were worse for wear.

Han tried to block out the screams of the man whose lower legs had been obliterated by a landmine and peered over the crater rim. Some ways ahead, Captain Beckett was leading a spirited assault against a mortar bunker. When Imperial combat engineers moved up with flamethrowers, he withdrew his squad to Han's crater.

Rio adjusted his helmet and chainmail splatter mask. "Hey, Beckett! I'm not sure how much more of this 'quick job' I can take!"

"I know," Beckett yelled. "We're almost through!" He pointed towards the Imperial southern salient where a group of cargo airships were coming into view through the smoke. "Look! That must be where the forward depot is!"

"It is," said Han from the other side of the crater. "But the Major said our objective is that way!" He pointed towards the ridge.

"Yeah, go that way and die!"

"That's exactly what happened to the Major!"

Beckett blinked. "...So who's the rankin' officer now?"

"You are, Captain!"

Beckett, Rio, and Val burst into laughter, much to Han's confusion.

"Oh, he's got you there," Rio said.

"So what's the plan, Captain Beckett?" Val asked, smirking.

"Val, you take Rio and these mudskulls and flank left of the ridge. Me and the mouthy scooch, we'll go around right. Hopefully we get lucky."

"Luck's got nothing to do with it!" Rio declared, leaping from the crater.

Beckett grabbed Han. "Let's go!"

"Wait! Wait! One question!"

The Captain looked back at Han with a raised eyebrow. "You wanna live, Sparky?"

"Very much."

"Then shut up and do what your captain tells you."

Han nodded nervously.

"Let's go."

The Imperials charged the Mimbanese positions, bellowing primal battle cries. While this by itself did not break the lines, it worked in conjunction with the rest of the assault. By the day's end, the Mimbanese army had been pushed back far enough to eliminate the southern salient and may have gone further had there been sufficient artillery support.

That evening, Han rested on the firestep of the trench that had until that day been the salient's flank. As he took the last drink from his canteen, he saw Captain Beckett walk past. Maybe - just maybe - he could get into his good graces and get transferred back to the Navy. Han hurriedly returned the canteen to his belt and followed Beckett.

"Captain."

No response.

"Captain?"

Beckett seemed to be in somewhat of a hurry. Maybe he was distracted by something on his mind.

"Captain!"

Beckett gave him a side-eyed glare.

"I'm Han."

"Nobody cares." Beckett opened his greatcoat and pulled a flask from his belt. He took a swig, grimacing at the taste.

"Thanks for your help back there. You might not remember me, but I was the one who helped you drag Korso back to our lines."

"Guess we're even now." Beckett returned the flask to his belt but didn't yet close his coat.

"I was originally trained as a sailor-"

Beckett whirled around to face Han who only narrowly avoided walking into the Captain. "You want some advice, kid? Get the Hell away from here. Any way you can, as fast as you can."

This was the first time Han had seen Beckett with his greatcoat open and he immediately noticed something strange about Beckett's armor to compound the oddness of the statement. Han narrowed his eyes as the Captain began to walk away. "What company do you command?"

"None of your business company," Val said, roughly pushing past Han. "And we're full up."

Rio pushed past as well, though far more politely. "Stick to soldiering, kid. You don't want any part of this."

Han frowned. Who exactly were these people that he had fought alongside for these past few weeks? He decided to follow them in the hopes that he could somehow turn the situation to his advantage.

"Hang on, guys," Rio called out as he lagged behind a few paces. An extra, non-human arm slipped from the bottom of his uniform jacket to hike up his pants.

As they left the trenches, they noticed a gathering crowd near the cargo depot. At the center of the crowd was a makeshift podium of stacked supply crates atop which stood Lieutenant Alayus Bolandin. "Attention! In three hours, this company will be transferred to the southern marshlands for the next stage of the offensive. I want an advance party of ten men to depart early for night reconnaissance."

Han rolled his eyes. "Great, more mud..."

Lieutenant Bolandin snapped his gaze to Han. "What was that?"

"I'm just wondering what our objective is, Lieutenant."

"Our objective," Bolandin hissed, "is to bring peace and prosperity to the world, install a regime loyal to the Emperor, and eradicate any and all hostile entities."

Han shrugged. "This is their land. That makes us the hostile entities."

The Lieutenant descended from his podium and stared Han down, leaving a hardly a hand's span between them. "Do you have a problem, trooper?"

Han frowned. "No problem, sir."

Bolandin scowled back for several seconds before looking up to the rest of the assembled men. "You! Sergeant! Round up your squad. You're going to the southern marshlands. Move out! The rest of you are dismissed!"

As the soldiers dispersed, Han glanced around for Beckett only to realize neither he nor his two cohorts were anywhere to be found. Han did not worry about this too much. He figured he knew where they would be.

Beckett leaned against the side of a large cargo container and lit a handroll of Army ration smokeweed. "Looks like they're runnin' every thirty minutes," he said, watching an unloaded cargo airship take off.

Val nodded. "Yeah. I can take out the guards at the perimeter, signalman, pilot... Hell, I'll just take them all out."

"What are we looking at?" Han asked cheerily, emerging from around the side of the container.

Beckett slowly turned to address the interloper. "You have a talent for stickin' your nose in places where it don't belong," he said with a death glare.

"I just couldn't help but notice you're wearing captain's armor full of shrapnel holes. So either you heal really quick or you stole it off a dead man. You're not Imperial Army. You're thieves here to steal equipment for a job... and I want in." Han smiled smugly.

Val drew a gun. "Well, now we've got to shoot him."

"No," said Beckett, putting his hand over Val's.

Han sighed with relief.

"Snap his neck. It's less mess."

Han put his hands out. "Or! Or you could take me with you! Look, I was running scams on the streets of Corellia basically since I could talk. I was boosting autocarts as soon as they hit the streets. I'm a driver, a sailor, and hey, you said yourself I got to get out of here. Right?"

"What's a rope jockey like you doing here in the mud?" Rio asked condescendingly.

"Well, I got kicked out of the Navy for having a mind of my own, but I'm great at the helm... And I gotta get home."

Rio laughed. "This kid is nuts. Nobody goes back to Corellia."

"I have a reason."

"We've already got a helmsman," Val said. "One who knows both sea and air ships."

Han took Val's meaning and nodded towards Rio. "The Ardennian."

Rio balked. "Ardennian?! You've got a lot of nerve, pal! I'm an Imperial trooper!"

"Oh really? A couple of your arms popped out of your ass and hiked up your pants earlier, 'trooper.'"

"Oh, yeah?" Rio tried to keep up the bluff but there was a distinct note of nervousness in his voice.

Han shook his head. "Look, I'll do whatever it takes to get back to Corellia. I've already been away too long. Just give me a shot."

Rio noticed a group of soldiers approaching and put up his hand to pause the conversation. "Whoa, whoa. Hold it."

Han recognized Bolandin among the approaching group. "Well, if you're not interested in me, I think the Lieutenant might be very interested in you." He smiled smugly.

Beckett laughed and nodded his head. "Mmm, blackmail. Not bad." He took a drag from his handroll and turned towards Bolandin. "Lieutenant."

Bolandin saluted as he walked over. "Captain."

"Lieutenant, we have apprehended a deserter. Take him."

Han stiffened. "Wait."

Lieutenant Bolandin scowled at Han. "I should have known. This one's a troublemaker." He waved for his stormtrooper detail to arrest Han.

"And a liar," Beckett added. "Don't believe a word he says."

"Don't go anywhere without me," Han hissed to Beckett as the grey armored stormtroopers shackled his wrists.

One of the troopers roughly grabbed Han's shoulder. "All right. Let's go."

Lieutenant Bolandin smiled. "Feed him to the Beast."

Han paled. "The Beast?! There's a Beast?! Hold on!"

The trooper shoved him. "Move it!"