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Banks of the Yos River, Ares Vallis, Occupied Mars
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The rising Sol was starting to warm the plains of Mars as it steadily rose over the western Chryse Planitia, the great farming region that had fed the 2nd Galactic Empire when it arrived in the Milky Way Galaxy nearly three decades ago.
A solitary figure stood on a ridge watching the star as it rose into the morning sky. He was dressed in sandy, white clothes that had the loose fit of a farm kid. SF-4738 should know, he had dressed in exactly the same manner growing up on Teth before enlisting in the Old Empire's Stormtrooper Corps.
The ex-sergeant called to his partisan lookout on the ridge. "See anything, Quan?"
The man turned around and jogged down the hill to rejoin the small party. "Colonel, I've told you Jacen is fine."
SF-4738 considered the trooper's insistence on his given name over his familial or clan moniker. The beings under his command weren't even real troopers, he had to remind himself. They were civilian volunteers fighting by their own choice for the sake of their friends, families and planet. Maybe that made them even more dangerous than Stormtroopers. "Sorry, Jacen, old habits. And you're right. Stow the Colonel and Sarge poodoo. No need to make it easy for the abos where we are heading."
The Ubese marksman, Savushh, barked through his vocoder the old joke about Earthers not recognizing their shebs from a hole in the ground. It was old ten minutes after SF-4738 had landed in Los Angeles in the last war. SF-4738's escorts all laughed.
It was tough to think of them as a military unit, though most of them came from what he considered his ad hoc headquarters company. Many of them came from shattered military units and tried to carry on Imperial military traditions, but the influence of so many civilian fighters had warped Sarge's Irregulars into something new; partisans.
"What did you see?" SF-4738 asked Quan.
Jacen Quan had proven himself to be an exceptional organizer ever since he had attached himself to SF-4738's unit. As far as the Sarge could tell he had worked for the Jedi Temple on Wadarae before the war and was an assistant to Jedi Knight B'asia Ti before they had facilitated her escape from Mars. They had never heard if she had recovered from her injuries and SF-4738 could see it weighed heavily on Quan. The human shrugged. "The city is still there. But it's seen better days."
"Haven't we all?" SF-4738 asked. "Shall we go take a closer look?"
Before Jacen could respond a formation of four Confederate F-55 atmospheric fighters screamed past overhead, hurtling out towards the Xanthe Terra Highlands. Jacen pointed to the jets. "Yes, while they still let us."
SF-4738 followed Jacen up to the top of the ridge. They walked casually as to not draw the attention of Confederate attack chopters and roving landspeeder patrols in the area. SF-4738 wore the sandy robes of a moisture farmer to further the benign nature of his appearance.
Amidala City was indeed still there. It stood cradled in the Ares Vallis and spilled over the valley's sides into the Margaritifer Terra and Xanthe Terra Highlands. It's most recognizable landmark, the toppled Tarkin Tower, was now missing from its famous skyline, as were a few of the city's majestic red cloudcutters. The buildings had all crumpled during last summer's invasion, ironically taking place during the Earth's winter.
The city was known by its occupiers as the 'Dala', as if they were afraid to use an Imperial name for their captured prize. The Confederates had yet to rename the metropolis, nor the winding river that bisected it in two. The Yos River, named for the Empress's family, was a wide blue ribbon that cut across the crater-filled red Martian plain. Imperial Roadway 1 led into the city and rumors were the Earthlings had knocked down all of its aurebesh road signs and renamed it Harris Highway, but they had wrote their new signs in alternate basic so only a handful of the occupied Imperials had noticed the change in name.
The roadway was empty except for a series of heavily armed roadblocks flanked by crewed bunkers. At least half a dozen of the Confederate bipedal walkers strolled down the roadway until it disappeared into the Chryse Planitia agricombines.
A steady stream of beings poured from the city, their belongings stacked atop carts pulled by their own muscle and sweat. Earthling troopers, dressed in their large, armored suits, shouted at them to stay on the shoulders and pointed their rifles at refugees that dared step foot upon their roadway as if they had built it themselves.
"Would you look at that?" SF-4738 pointed to a large tent city sprawling out beneath them between their ridge to the distant roadway. A barrier of closely-packed ten meter stakes, resembling a fence and guarded by hundreds of Legionnaires and a solid row of their rolling tracked tanks, warned the sheltered refugees away from the city they had fled from.
"Latest evictees from the city." Jacen reported. "The kriffing Confeds spent the last few weeks emptying out the Kathol Oaks, Jalorian Sodality Canyon and the Corellian Hills neighborhoods. These are the beings that were booted out. They just haven't moved into the countryside yet."
"Are our people helping them?" SF-4738 asked.
"I've got several dozen going through the camps, directing beings where to go. It helps that the Earthlings are refusing to give them any food. It convinces them to give the countryside a shot. I'm screening them to see which ones can be brought into the Irregulars." Quan reported. The man was a masterful organizer. SF-4738 almost got the impression that he had done something like this before. Maybe he had some experience as a youngling somewhere during the Clone Wars.
Jacen Quan had quietly made the Irregulars a real fighting force since he had joined them during the exfiltration of Moff Hinter. Jacen had built up a support network of thousands of farmers, grocers, hunters, armorers, medics and even dentists to support the hundreds of fighters SF-4738 and his officers were training in the distant and hidden corners of the red planet. SF-4738 had spent too much time as a Stormtrooper. He never realized for every buckethead, the Empire had needed a dozen beings behind the lines keeping them in fighting condition. It was a strange experience to have to actually think about that odd creature known as logistics. And Quan seemed a master at it. "It's awfully nice of the Confederacy to force troopers into our service."
"I'll have to thank the President one day." SF-4738 said.
"Like the bastard ever cared what other people thought." Jacen mumbled.
"What was that?"
"Nothing, just wondering how many of their own they've brought into the city. That's obviously their plan; to clear out the city to make way for their own colonits." Jacen pondered.
"Orrelios would have a better picture. He's still inside the city."
"The Confeds haven't got to make it easy for him. Being an obvious alien and all. They're a little softer on those of us that look like them."
"Only slightly." SF-4738 retorted. He'd seen enough human Imperials with slugs in the back of their heads. Gifts from their Earthling occupiers. "Alien or human, doesn't matter. It's time to pull our people out of the city."
"Can't agree more. From everything I've heard, things are starting to heat up for anyone still in the city." Jacen agreed.
SF-4738 turned and led the way back down from the ridge to rejoin his entourage. They quickly concealed the blasters they didn't want the Legionnaires to uncover and moved out. Within minutes they entered the refugee camps.
The camp smelled like an open fresher. Tens of thousands of Imperial beings all forced to live on top of one another amongst a maze of yellow tents stamped F.E.M.A. and white plastoid walls labeled CONICEF in alternate basic. Half-dressed younglings from scores of species stared at them as they passed by. Jacen and his aides handed out small cards filled with the directions to towns were the refugees could find food and real shelter. The sooner they got out from under the eyes of the Confederacy the sooner SF-4738 could shape them into something he could work with.
The fence between the refugee camp and the city had a large gate erected along one part of it. It had been constructed in two parts, a larger section across Roadway 1 and a smaller one that permitted civilian foot traffic. Both were guarded by death-wires, heavy slugthrower bunkers, guard towers and about a company of Legionnaires.
There was no line waiting to enter the city. One of the tall, brutish Legionnaires at the checkpoint pointed his battle rifle at the party as they approached. "What the fuck do you ETs want?"
SF-4738 took the lead. He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and held it up for the Earthlings to see. "Excuse me, trooper. Your airspeeders have been dropping these all over the planet. They told us to come to the city and register for Confederate chain codes. My neighbors and I decided to come together to save fuel."
"Oh, doing your civic duty like good, little Impies are you?" The Legionnaire shrugged. "You human-looking aliens can enter, after we check you for weapons."
The Legionnaires motioned for them to enter through a metal detector, but as the group stepped forward the Legionnaire in charge pointed his slugthrower in Savushh's direction. "Hey, we don't allow their kind here."
"What?" SF-4738 was taken aback.
"Your aliens. They'll have to wait outside. We don't want them here." The Earthling explained.
SF-4738 turned to Savushh and the other Imperials with alien appearances. "Go back to the dewbacks. We don't want any trouble here."
Savushh answered back in Ubese, which SF-4738 was rapidly learning. "I wholeheartedly agree."
"Frikken' aliens." The Legionnaire would have spit if he had his helmet off. As soon as Savushh and the other alien Irregulars were gone they hustled SF-4738 and his more human compatriots through the metal detectors. There they found the weapons SF-4738 wanted them to find. Everyone on Mars carried a blaster, so it would have been strange if the Earthlings had uncovered nothing in their search.
After their gruff, yet brief search, the Legionnaires waved them towards a row of trailers. By their design, SF-4783 guessed they had been brought up as cheap, ad hoc office space. He could have burned them all down in seconds with a CR-24 flame rifle. Fiberglass was a poor substitute for durasteel. No matter how mobile they needed to be, the Stormtrooper Corps had its own standards.
One by one they were led into a trailer, starting with SF-4738, to face a rather bored junior lieutenant and several uniformed troopers acting as clerks. They hardly looked up when he entered their tiny portable kingdom.
SF-4738 was trying to figure out their Confederate rank insignias when one of the junior men ordered him to, "Stand behind the line and face the Lieutenant."
The lieutenant sat at the central desk behind several computer monitors in the midst of typing a report. SF-4738 had been in his seat before and wondered how many of his reports were ever read by anyone that cared. The officer didn't even deem to meet SF-4738's gaze and when he spoke he sounded more Twi'lek than human. "What is the purpose of your visit to the Occupied Control Zone, Imp?"
"I'm here to get a new chain code. I have one of your flyers." SF-4738 held up the scrap of paper that had allowed him to pass through the checkpoint outside.
"We don't have chain codes. That's Imp tech. You're to be issued a government approved microchipped identicard and Trade Federation cell phone to replace any comlink you currently possess. Failure to turn in your comlink or carry your identicard at all times is punishable by immediate military justice."
"Stang." SF-4738 whispered as he imagined what that punishment might entail. Refugees arriving in the countryside had left little doubt about what conditions were like inside the occupied city.
The Lieutenant looked up at SF-4738 and glared. "Imperial, I take umbrage with your tone. I will be a 2nd Classer when I return to Earth after my service here on Mars. You are an alien and do not even possess the rights of a 4th Classer. You will address me as sir, or lieutenant when you are permitted to speak. Am I clear?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Now what is your name?"
SF-4738 had been given an alias by Jacen Quan, who had assured him it would fool any Earthling. "Canderous Ordo, Lieutenant."
The officer shared a knowing look with his clerks. "Well isn't that wizard, as you ETs say. You look about the right size and age to have been a Stormtrooper in the last war. What were you doing back then?"
"I was a navigator on a freighter." SF-4738 responded with his rehearsed alias.
"You're about the tenth one to use that excuse today. Strange how none of you ever fought on Earth. What was the name of your ship Ordo?
"The Ebon Hawk." SF-4738 replied easily. Jacen had been most insistent in drilling him in the tiniest minutiae of the alias he had crafted to ensure that the leader of the Irregulars always got his cover story right.
The Lieutenant grunted as he looked away from the Sergeant turned Colonel in disguise. He seemed disappointed. "And you're the first to actually be able to name the ship he was a navigator on. Very well, look at the camera Ordo."
A device hung from the ceiling that the lieutenant pointed at. As SF-4738 turned towards it a flash of light temporarily blinded him. He mumbled, "Dank ferrik."
"Your face and identity are now in our system. You have a five hour pass. Report to Military Headquarters, at the site of the former Imperial Martian Palace, for processing. Afterwards you will depart the city again at this same checkpoint." The officer instructed him and then offered a warning. "Do not be late or an arrest warrant will be issued for you. Don't even think about hiding, Ordo. Our surveillance drones will be tracking you throughout the city."
"Drones, sir?"
"Flying droids. With facial recognition cameras. I won't tell you every method we use but those will be the most overt. Do not ask questions, Imperial. We don't like snoops. You don't want to know what I will do to you if you get out of line, so make your way directly to the headquarters, do your business and then get the fuck back out of my city, Imperial." The man was a petty tyrant who liked to shove what miniscule power he had in the faces of those he saw as beneath him. SF-4738 knew how to deal with them as he nodded his head like an obedient little farmer.
"Yes, lieutenant. Just doing my civic duty. I don't want to bother you brave troopers any longer than I have to. I'll be on my way as soon as I have my identicard and new cell phone, sir." SF-4738 lied. He had zero intention of following any of the pipsqueak officer's instructions.
"See that you do, Canderous Ordo. And I better not find out that's a fake name or you'll be laughing out the other side of your face. Now get the hell out of here." The lieutenant dismissed SF-4738 with a wave of his hand.
SF-4738 waited until the rest of his men were screened and joined him outside the trailers before entering the city proper. They had a job to do and it wouldn't pay to get separated early in the mission. Jacen Quan returned with a grave look on his face. "How did Frenchie treat you?"
"Frenchie?" SF-4738 asked.
"Yes, our esteemed lieutenant with the outrageous accent. He sounded like he was from France on Earth." Quan pointed out. SF-4738 wondered where France was. He hadn't served anywhere near it during the last war. Perhaps Quan had, which made him more familiar with the dialect.
"I've dealt with scum like him for most of my military career. I've learned to shake it off." SF-4738 admitted. Besides, he had bigger fish to fry than some junior officer at a checkpoint. He turned to his men. "Spread out so we don't look like a bunch of dumb schuttas from the sticks. We're heading for the pleasure house near the Long Jump. Rendezvous there if any of you get separated."
The partisans nodded their heads and then headed out. Several of them went ahead to scout the route and warn their boss in case they were walking into a trap.
No one in the group wanted to talk as they passed through the city. Amidala City was in a state very few had ever seen. In the Old Empire they would have called the metropolis a spook town due to how eerily quiet it was. The most glaring change was the lack of air traffic, followed by the dearth in landspeeders on the roadways. The Confederacy wasn't providing fuel for ground vehicles and they had seized every flying vehicle they could lay their hands upon when they grabbed the city. Trash and refuse blew in the breeze, scattered by crumbled buildings and fleeing refugees. Droids that would normally do the work of cleaning the streets had all been confiscated and flown back to Earth ,where they now cleaned the roadways of Confederate Center and other elite neighborhoods. Earthlings would rather chase Imperials out of the city than keep them around to clean up the place. SF-4738 assumed they'd eventually bring up some of their lower classes to perform the menial labor, but it hadn't happened yet.
The majority of beings on the sidewalks were still Imperials, humans and aliens alike. They hurried to and fro, eager to do whatever business they had to attend to and avoid eye contact at all cost. In comparison the Earthlings were much easier to spot. They walked around as if they owned the place, usually in twos or threes with security personnel somewhere close at hand. Nearly every one of them wore some kind of medical mask or filter over their lower faces. SF-4738 understood that Festering Disease had run rampant on Earth after the last war, and it would only make sense that the new arrivals were taking every precaution they could. It wasn't as if bacta was in ready supply, after all. SF-4738 hadn't seen any since coming down from Olympus Mons and Earthlings were hoarding their meager supplies for their elite classes.
Not all droids had disappeared. Small cambots flittered about in small swarms over the city. SF-4738 had turned his head several times to notice a few of them following his group. He put his head down and tried to conceal his features as much as possible.
Evidently, his efforts weren't enough. A camera on a blank wall detected his approach and as he came within a few meters of it the wall suddenly turned into an image of a white predator animal smiling and offering him some strange brown liquid. "CANDEROUS ORDO, HAVE YOU TRIED A REFRESHING COCA-COLA TODAY? COCA-COLA: THE SODA TO CONQUER THE GALAXY!"
"Facial recognition, Canderous." Jacen Quan was suddenly at his side. His hand was covering his mouth. "Don't say anything important. They can read lips and pick up sounds from a dozen meters away."
SF-4738 looked again at the advertisement. Diabolical, he thought. Not even the Old Empire had universal surveillance like what the Confederacy wielded. Perhaps Jacen Quan had had the right idea after all. In the time since he'd joined up with the Irregulars he had grown out a small, scraggly beard and acquired a pair of contact lenses which changed his eye color. When asked about it by Savushh Jacen had simply said he wasn't willing to take a chance on anything. The Sarge pulled the collar of his tunic over his nose. "Let's keep moving. We're almost there."
They passed mostly empty stores where grocers and retailers sold a skimpy supply of Confederate rations and dwindling stores of whatever was left behind when the city fell. A few restaurants were loud and boisterous and the sounds of celebrating poured outside from open doors. Large signs adorned each entrance along with a uniformed Confederate army trooper that read in aurebesh EARTHLINGS ONLY.
Mons Pleasure House was one such place. The roadway leading up to it was actually blocked off with a roll of death wire and several barricades. Behind several parked military landspeeders more enemy army troopers patrolled behind the barricades and told passerby's to find another way past. A large plaster board had been erected in front of the building, inscribed 12th Legion Officer's Club. Apparently, Mon's was under new management and it looked like they were intending to stay awhile.
It was evident they couldn't enter, let alone approach and locate Orrelios unless they wore the uniforms of the Confederate military. SF-4738 avoided the stares of the troopers as he casually walked past the barricade along the sidewalk. As he reached the other side of the roadway a streak of movement caught his eye as a large green-blue Tooka sprinted past his feet. SF-4738 followed the creature as it ran towards a nearby alley. A lone figure was crouched there and picked up the animal when it reached him. The shadowy, hooded figure looked to SF-4738 and with a small, almost unseen, gesture, motioned for the partisan leader to follow him before turning and vanishing down the alley.
Several members of his party, including Quan, noticed the figure as well. They nodded when SF-4738 met their gaze and quietly followed the figure. As the ex-sergeant reached the entrance to the alley, the mysterious figure was turning the corner at the far end of the alley. SF-4738 went into pursuit mode and as he reached the far end the figure was again turning another corner. He was moving just fast enough not to lose SF-4738 and his entourage. SF-4738 realized he was being led somewhere, but he had little other option if he was going to find Mon Orrelios before the Confederacy issued an arrest warrant for dawdling too long in the city.
After the fourth turn the figure had vanished, only to be replaced with the same indifferent Tooka sitting in front of an unremarkable apartment door. The door opened and the animal got up and walked inside, leaving the door ajar. SF-4738 followed.
The partisan leader was met with darkness at first before his eyes adjusted to the light. He gradually made out a figure sitting on a bench on the far side of the room, as well as several more hooded figures along the wall. The Tooka jumped into the figure's lap who stroked its chin. "Good job, Ezra."
The figure rose and slowly removed his hood revealing a not-quite unexpected visage. Mon Orrelios was a flamboyant, transvestite proprietor of one of the most popular pre-war clubs in Amidala City. His face was absent its usual makeup, but it was still adorned with almost two dozen earrings and various piercings. There was the hint of a feathered boa around his neck and for the first time SF-4738 noted that Mon had been wearing a ladies hood and cloak. He was also the best infochant on Mars.
"Thank Phasma's fabulous wardrobe, you've come, Colonel." Orrelios clasped SF-4738 by the forearm in the Imperial fashion.
"It's time to get you out of the city, Master Orrelios." SF-4738 announced.
"And so it is. But I won't go without my people."
SF-4738 respected that. He once did everything in his power to keep everyone in his old 3rd Platoon alive during the siege of Las Vegas. "We can do that. From everything we've seen it's easier to get out of the city than in."
"It's true, from everything my organization has uncovered. The Confederates seem more focused on evicting everyone from the city so they can bring up more of their upper class citizens to run the place. They don't seem to give two kriffs about you chaps out in the countryside." Mon reported. SF-4738 wished that were true. The Confederate Army and Legions both patrolled the main roadways and large towns. Their presence was starting to be felt more heavily as more troops were brought up from Earth.
"How many are left in the city?" Jacen Quan asked over SF-4738's shoulder.
Mon looked at SF-4738's organizer. "By my best estimate, out of the pre-war population of five million, the Earthers have forced out two million since they took the city. Another million or so left on their own volition."
"About what we figured by what's been showing up outside. That leaves two million inside who must be the slowest stoopas in the Empire." SF-4738 started.
"Or the biggest sheb-kissers." Mon finished. "It's not all like that. Though there are quite a few that are trying to help the Harris crowd. Doing whatever they can for the Confederacy's scraps."
"Even with the Confed's intolerance of aliens?" SF-4738 asked.
"There's not many non-humans left. Aliens that don't look like Palpatine's poster boys bore the brunt of the Legionnaires fury in the first months of evictions." Mon explained.
"Is that why you're getting out now? We saw they took over your club." SF-4738 asked.
"Oh, honey, that's not even the worst of it. At least I got my staff and dancers out. They've brought up their 4th Class citizens for entertainment there now. Turned it into some kind of pleasure house brothel. Just shows which class really is the lowest." Mon said. "No, I'm getting out before they grab my cute little shebs and throw me into Camp Biden."
"Camp Biden? Like the old President from forty years ago?" Jacen asked. SF-4738 only knew one President's name and once again was amazed at the wealth of knowledge his ad hoc officer possessed about the enemy. Perhaps he'd been in Imperial Intelligence.
"I assume so. It's no surprise you didn't see it coming in from the north. It's in the eastern neighborhoods, just outside Alderaberg." Mon stated.
"Ah, we're aware of it. That is where they brought the prisoners from the 212th Legion after they surrendered." SF-4738 replied.
"There is a POW camp there as you say, but it is attached to something much more nefarious."
"What?" Jacen asked.
"From what I've learned its run by a special unit from somewhere on Earth called Area 51, Perhaps Doctor Curu can explain it better." Mon Orrelios indicated another hooded figure in the back of the room. The man stepped forward and lowered his hood revealing the face of a blind Miraluka researcher. "Doctor?"
The Miraluka faced the partisans. Even though he was blind, SF-4738 was positive the man was giving Jacen Quan a funny look. He had heard that Miraluka could sense someone's connection with the Force and perhaps he was detecting Jacen's connection through his previous work with the Jedi Order. Whatever it was gave the man pause and when he started it was with a shaky start. "I'm Dr. Curu, former Director of Project Stork, which was housed in the facility in Alderaberg. We were part of an Earthling breeding project during the last war and in the interim have been monitoring the progression of our subjects as they aged and took their rightful places as members of Imperial society, largely as employees of the Honourable East Empire Company. It was my greatest joy to bring so many castaways into true connectivity with the Living Force. Be that as it may, we were known to the CEN as kidnappers, or baby-snatchers, as they put it. While they made a bee-line for our facility we basically were escaping through the back door as they knocked down the front door of the place."
"Baby-snatchers?" Quan gasped.
SF-4738 ignored that for now. The Doctor's activities were in the past and they needed to focus on the present. "What is the enemy doing with your facility currently, Doctor?"
"Not exactly positive, but it's got to fall in the realm of medical experimentation. They've issued something called Order 731, which allows their troops to seize anyone that appears medically viable. They've been especially focused on grabbing samples of every species known to the Empire of each biological sex. I understand they've been confused by some species having multiple sexes such as the Chalhuddan or ones that can switch at will such as the Xidelphiad, despite having over a hundred recognized genders of their own. In the end, they've been grabbing test subjects off the roadways here in Amidala City by the score." Curu explained.
"And once they go in they don't go out." Mon Orrelios interjected. "By my best guess they've nabbed twenty thousand beings. The unit running the place is not only attached to this Area 51 project, but the Epidemic Prevention and Water Purification Department of their Ministry of Improvement. When any of my agents ask about the facility, the enemy denies holding anyone there and claim it's a bread factory, which is why they installed several large ovens and smokestacks."
"A crematorium." Jacen murmured, his tone laced with disgust as he pieced the information together. The man looked even more shaken than the rest of the partisans. The more Mon and Curu reported the harder it was for SF-4738 to keep his anger in check.
"Precisely. They've brought in no supplies for a bakery, nor do they release any bread. Alderaberg has already been evicted by the Legions but my agents have slipped in during the night and recorded screams and howls emanating from behind the walls of the facility."
"I can't do anything about breaking out those prisoners today or perhaps even this year. What I can do is get you out in the countryside and record your story. Our connection with the HoloNet is sketchy with Confederate jamming being what it is but we will do what we can to make sure the Empress knows what is happening here on Mars." SF-4738 vowed.
"We can talk more about that once we're out of the city. Kathol Oaks is nearly empty now, and the 11th Legion's General reported back to Earth that she will have it emptied by nightfall. We can easily slip into one of the last refugee columns being forced outside. The Earthlings don't tally us or even care about us. All they want is to get us out so they can bring in their own beings." Mon said.
"Sounds easy enough. My men can protect you while you blend in. Once we are out, we will move you beyond that foodless refugee camp and rendezvous in the town of Becquerel. We have a mobile camp in the area that can put you up until you get your organization up and running again." SF-4738 told the Lasat.
"Appreciate the shelter, but my organization will not be down for even a minute. I've got beings inside and outside the city working for me. I can tell you what General Onassi had for breakfast this morning."
SF-4738 felt good about bringing the infochant into his unit as his intelligence force, but wanted to test him out first. "How many abos are on Mars now?"
Mon didn't even bat an eye. "Nine hundred and seventy thousand civilians. They are planning a welcome ceremony at the end of the week for their one millionth immigrant. They've also kept four Legions, two Mechanized Legions, seven Army Divisions and fifteen airspeeder wings planetside. They've moved the other four Legions coreward since Mars fell. If you're willing to judge the scope of my abilities, Colonel, you should know the Confederacy landed one of those missing Legions on your homeworld of Anax just two weeks ago."
SF-4738 sucked in a sharp intake of air. He hadn't heard that. He was pretty sure his son Mahan had made it off Mars alive when Moff Hinter started making speeches from Palpatine Prime, but he was less sure about the rest of his family on Anax with the Confederates on Kafrene Outpost being so close. Once again this put his willingness to fight the abos into a whole new light. "What about the city of Reborn?"
"Evacuated. The Earthlngs don't say anything much about the recent battle at New Thyfeeria but they've gone on and on about the nuke they dropped on Anax's small capital. The HoloNet has reported that no lives were lost in the attack." Mon said.
The relief he felt caused a buzz underneath his skin, and for a few seconds SF-4738 was convinced that his heart had started pumping ice water through his veins. "The best way we can help them is to twist Harris's tail here on Mars. Gather your beings and whatever they can carry. Tell them to look like refugees. We move out in ten minutes." SF-4738 told Mon's group.
They scattered to grab their things and rouse their friends and families. Mon thanked SF-4738 and then excused himself to make sure his dancers and bartenders from his Pleasure House were ready to escape the city.
SF-4738's own thoughts quickly went back to Anax and his family's fate while he waited for Mon's crew to get ready. They were so strong he didn't notice the figure who approached him from behind. The man was so quick that not even Quan or SF-4738's other troopers had time to intercept him. In a voice filled with parade ground authority, he barked at the partisan colonel. "Platoon Sergeant SF-4738."
A lifetime of training caused SF-4738 to snap to attention and spin around, only to find himself facing off with the aging features of a clone. "Alpha?"
The old clone nodded his head. "Aye, it's me. I see you got yourself some officer's cubes. What's all this I've been hearing about you playing at being some kind of partisan hero? Stormtroopers aren't the heroes, lad, we're the boys who do the Empress's grunt work and if we're lucky we get to go back to our barracks at the end of the day. But we're no heroes. Kriff, I've known that since the day Kamino fell."
SF-4738 couldn't help but smile at the cantankerous old man. Alpha had refused to join his fellow clones in New Mandalore and had instead taken on a position as a caretaker at the Martian Military Academy. It had been Alpha who had pointed the way to finding his son in the days following the Confederate invasion. The clone gave him a fishy look. "You lose that blaster I gave you?"
"It's in safe hands." SF-4738 referred to the exotic Amban phase-pulse rifle Alpha had entrusted to him. SF-4738 had left it in the care of his men back in camp, knowing it would have drawn attention inside the city.
"Wizard. I have a mission for you." Alpha declared.
"I'm not sure you fall in my chain of command, sir." SF-4738 told the clone.
"Poodoo. I've heard of how you got Moff Hinter off-world. Sloppy, relying on the Kajidic of all things. And what have you done since? A few roadside bombs and arson work along the hover railways? Whoever is cutting missions for you hasn't got the imagination of a Gamorrean. I can help you with that." Alpha explained.
"And just what does your photocopied mind think we should be doing?"
"Oh, I've got some ideas. But first I need you to rescue some prisoners set to be executed a little later today." Alpha stated.
SF-4738 looked to Quan, who nodded. "We've heard reports. They've been hanging beings at Tarkin's Square and all up and down the waterfront. Making examples of them. Its part of the reason so many want out of the city." SF-4738 confirmed.
"Hell of a welcome for their incoming citizens seeing those bodies in the middle of town." Jacen interjected.
"The ones they bring up here are the ones making a profit off of our dead. I doubt they shed many tears for our losses." SF-4738 looked at the elderly clone. "If you're asking me to try and put a stop to the executions, you should know that's not our purpose here. We're getting Mon's beings out and going back into hiding out in the countryside until the heat dies down."
"I'm asking you to think with your gut and not your shebs, boy. All you've done so far is annoy the abos and please the Galactic Democratic League with snatching their golden girl off the planet. We can't let these Earthlings get comfortable, and you can start by rescuing four of my colleagues from the hangman's noose."
SF-4738 knew that Alpha was a tactical genius. He had heard nothing but good things from other officers that knew him while they had been trapped together on Olympus Mons. That Alpha hadn't gotten swept up with the rest of the army and had stayed one step ahead of the CIA's hunters was testimony to his advanced skills. SF-4738 could really use a man like that on his staff. "How do you expect me to get four men out from under the noses of the Legionnaires?"
Alpha reached in and pulled an oblong object out of his cloak and held it up for the partisan leader to study. "With this. Snatched it from our lab boys before the Academy fell. It's a supped up Rakata Cryo-Shock grenade."
"That's the largest CryoBan detonator I've ever seen." SF-4738 took the device by its tipped end and mimicked tossing it. "How do you throw it? Lots awkward as kriff."
"Here, Colonel, let me show you." Quan took the device, and carefully wrapped his fingers across the middle and top of the device, pulled his arm over his shoulder and then acted out throwing the detonator forward. It looked simple enough. "Thing is shaped just like a football."
"Precisely, kid." Alpha agreed with Quan while SF-4738 wondered what a football was and why you threw it with your hands. "Really aerodynamic, so that you can get pretty good range. Perfect distraction."
"Alright, I'll come with you and see what we can do, but no promises. If it looks too tough I'm pulling us out immediately. Not going to risk any more lives than I already have today. Quan, you're in charge of the rest of the boys. Get Mon and his beings to the rendezvous."
"Aye, sir." Quan was a master at getting the rest of the Irregulars to distract Mon's people from noticing Alpha and SF-4738 slip out of the hide-out. Honestly, the fewer members of their party the less chances the Confederates would notice something was off about this particular band of evictees. Not that SF-4738 was very concerned the party would be stopped. The Confederates were so eager to empty the city they had even cleaned out the city jail by dumping its inhabitants a thousand kilometers east of the city. They hadn't committed a crime against the CEN so it wasn't as if Harris's people cared one iota about them.
Alpha moved at a pretty good clip for an old man. Of course, he had been doing road marches in full gear since he was four. "City has been emptying out pretty fast. Hasn't anyone tried to resist?"
Alpha shrugged. "There were a few units cut off in the retreat, but they faded away to the hills when they saw the odds stacked against them. I assume they linked up with your band." Alpha stated.
"They did."
"Then the Gran Kajidic and Crimson Dawn put up a pretty good fight. The Confeds have barely touched the Negs because of them, though their time is running out just like everyone else's. The CEN brought up their cartels and Triads and, well, the Kajidic has always been stronger in the colonies, while Crimson Dawn has always been too stoopa to know when they're licked. Their UnderLord has probably lost himself eight hundred fighters since the city fell."
"We've gotten a bunch of them as well. They do what they're told. Both of the bigger gangs hate the CEN more than anything else, it seems. I heard they freed Brakatak the Bull and he's ordered his people to cooperate with us. I'd say a quarter of my fighters are from the gangs."
"And at least another quarter of them are working for them still, and you don't have a clue. That's alright. I can cut missions for their type too." Alpha pulled his cloak over his head revealing Earth style blue jeans and a button up flannel shirt. He covered his face with a medical mask to disguise his highly recognizable features from the hundreds of security cams around the city.
"Do you have a disguise for me too? I only have a couple more hours before they send out a search party for me. By then I want Canderous Ordo to be a thing of the past." SF-4738 was keenly aware his clothing marked him as an Imperial. Especially when they turned onto the Boulevard of Empress Teta's Fields, the pre-war expensive shopping district of Mars. It was here that nearly every café and shop were open and under the management of the occupiers. Earthlings browsed for designer Trade Federation goods brought from their home world as throngs of them dined at the outdoor caf houses or diners. Max's Flanth House had been replaced with a bustling slider restaurant marked by giant golden arches.
Cams spun in their direction as they marched down the wide avenue towards the river. As did the heads of many a Earth diner. They had made this area of the city theirs and were uneasy at the intrusion of an alien like SF-4738. Only Alpha's disguise dissuaded anyone from stopping them and inquiring as to what they were doing there.
SF-4738 ignored their stares. To him they were the ones who didn't belong on Mars. "Who are these four that you just can't live without?"
"Instructors at the Academy. Loosely affiliated of course. They're not officers like the majority of professors are, otherwise they'd be locked up in that nightmare fuel hellhole Camp Biden with the rest of the 212th."
Alpha noted the questioning look on the Sarge's face. "I know what you're thinking. Why rescue a bunch of teachers to recruit into your partisans? Let's just say these four have a particular set of skills. Skills that'll make Harris lose sleep over his precious Mars."
"Insurgents, you mean?"
"Aye. Learned their skills during the Clone Wars and fighting the rise of the Empire. I'm not saying they were rebels. But they all have a knack for causing trouble in places where the enemy believes they're safe."
SF-4738 nodded in understanding. "Break-in artists. Tell me more about each of them, assume pissing off the abos to be the first requirement of their new jobs."
"Mm, precisely why my favorite's Valik Swim, a former circus menagerie Palliduvan artist known as the 'Oki-Poki'. Used to work with Cerene Cyle, the Feline-Woman, some ten years ago. She got nabbed a few months after the city fell for smuggling stolen property out of Tarkin Tower. The areas been off limits since the tower fell so no one knows how she got in. Her specialty is rhythmic gymnastics and tightrope walking."
"And breaking and entering?" SF-4738 asked.
"Not officially, but I've traced the route her circus troupe took before the war with some of the most audacious thefts in the Empire over the past few years. A perfect match. And I highly doubt that's a coincidence. The rest of her troupe were put into Camp Biden and nothing's been heard of them since."
"Sounds like she's used to working with a team. That's good."
"The second man is a Chadra-Fan who goes by Orka Uttersound, alias Nerf-Patty."
"Think he's fit? A short half-bat doesn't exactly fit the image of a proper insurgent." SF-4738 worried.
"You'd be surprised. Orka's notched more break-ins for the Gran Kajidic than you've downed abos. More importantly, two months ago he nicked the CEN banner with its aurodium plated flag pole from the roof of the Imperial Palace. So the bat's a climber. Too bad he never heard the three platoons of Legionnaires waiting for him when he climbed down again. Odd considering his ears. My guess is he had no choice, so he burned the banner before his feet touched the ground. Boy, were the Solars mad over that one."
"Alright, so we have our second story man. What about the more technical side of hosting an uprising? Men-at-arms? Bomb makers?" SF-4738 asked.
"Let's start with the fact that one of them is an Anzati."
"A bloodsucker?" SF-4738 spit out his own disgust.
"Well they call it soup, but yes. He's also an extreme loyalist to the House of Yos, which is how he came to instruct at the Academy. Volfe Phinx, former native of Anzat and permanent resident of Mars. A specialist in controlled explosions. Folks say he could blow up Amidala City with a pinch of saltpeter. Busting open vault doors and armored AT-ATs are a cinch to him." Alpha sighed. "The problem is Volfe apparently hung up his detonators some time ago. He married, sired some little ones, and settled in the Alderaberg neighborhood. Might plain turn us down."
"Not if he's from Alderaberg. His family has probably already been evicted. I'll have my man Quan look for them."
"Aye, there's that. There's also the reason the CEN heard of him and arrested him on reputation alone. He wasn't around when his wife and younglings got kicked out of the city. He might be in the mood for a little payback."
"And the last of your teachers?" SF-4738 asked.
"Felana, the colonies' most famous slicer."
"I've heard of her. A Vorzydiak, right? Stang, hard workers." SF-4738 admitted, thinking of a few of the gaunt yellow-green Vorzydiaks he had encountered over the years.
"Aye, before she got an amnesty from the ISB and agreed to teach at the Academy, she had arrest warrants out for her on Keto Prime, Erestal, Next-1 and Koodan. Sadly, she got nabbed a few days back, by some prick schutta from the Confederate Intelligence Agency." Alpha explained.
SF-4738 could see the benefit of each of Alpha's compatriots. He certainly could use their skills in his organization. He had a few ex-bombtroopers but no one up to the skills of Volfe Phinx, and Felana could certainly be put to work solving their connection issues with the HoloNet and slicing the Confederate internet. For however many uses he could discover to utilize Swim and Uttersound he could tell Alpha was rippling with a hundred more. That was the real catch. The Irregulars could probably live without the four operatives but Alpha and his expertise at mission planning and organization were near essential to their continued survival.
Their journey to the waterfront was stopped by a Confederate Military Policeman who held up his hand and blew a whistle to gain their attention. Foot traffic came to a halt at the intersection as a great rumbling military convoy rolled through the stop. Dozens of Bumerang APCs led a long column of wheeled trucks towing massive slugthrowers. Their crews laughed and joked in the back of the trucks, confident in the safety brought on by their illegal conquest of Mars. SF-4738 glared at the invaders as they passed. He imagined identical troopers such as these riding through the forests of Anax; threatening his family.
"By fighting them here, we will weaken them there." Alpha-17 must have been reading his thoughts.
"I could really use your help. Your experience during the Clone War is invaluable, and as you say, how can they keep moving forward when they've got to watch their back?"
Alpha17 studied SF-4738 for a few seconds as he weighed his options. "How many slugthrowers just rolled by?"
"Fifty-six howitzers. All of them 105 mm. 12 flak slugthrowers and eight MLRS rocket launchers."
"Very good. I see you haven't lost your step. They've been moving artillery battalions into the surrounding hills to secure the city once they've finally emptied it for their own people."
The convoy passed and the military policeman waved foot traffic forward again. They were only a few blocks away from the waterfront. As they traveled SF-4738's worry about Anax grew more and more into anger at how comfortably the Earthlings appeared to be settling into their conquest. The Sarge silently vowed that the Irregulars would make things much harder for the occupiers.
When the planet had been terraformed the Yos River had emerged from what was then known as the Seco Ocean far to the north. Moff Culter's terraformers had shaped the river's flow directly towards the Ares Vallis so that it would bisect the great city they were constructing there. Not knowing what would become of its tidal rise and fall and how that would lead to its annual flooding cycle, great stone walls over four meters wide lined both banks of the river inside the city. During the reign of Emperor Aveo Yos the walls were widened to five meters in width and were popular walking and exercise paths that had the deep Yos River on one side and the city's roadways and riverside neighborhoods on the other. The centerpiece of it all was the great Tarkin's Square, edged by the burned out Imperial Mercantile Exchange, the collapsed Tarkin Tower and the captured Old Imperial Palace.
Alpha-17 and SF-4738 walked along the roadway. Above them strolled several two-man guard patrols who gave a fishy eye to the walkers below or lazily watched the river go by. Every twenty-five meters was a large pole embedded into the wall's walkway. Attached to each pole was a shock cage with a single occupant. They were bound to the pole by their hands and whenever they moved electricity arced through the air to give them a powerful shock. The line of entrapped prisoners stretched on for another kilometer until it reached Tarkin's Square.
Above each prisoner was a board that listed their crimes, from I threw a rock at a Legionnaire and I stole food from a Confederate Grocery or I talked to an Earthling female above my class to one human whose board said I am a traitor who tried to bring Jesus to aliens.
"I thought you said they were executing beings down here?" SF-4738 studied Alpha out of the corner of his eye, careful not to draw attention to the fact they were looking at the prisoners.
"They are, just slower than you'd expect. Look at that poor shutta there." Alpha pointed to what looked like an unconscious Rodian in one of the cages. He had passed out from exhaustion or hunger, or perhaps a combination of both, and was actually leaning against the sides of his cage. Electricity was rapidly burning away his scaly skin and the smell of burnt meat perforated the air in that section of the wall.
"Barbaric." SF-4738 declared.
"Perhaps, though it's not a Confederate form of punishment. They prefer electric chairs and gas chambers. Though they'll throw in a hanging or a blasting squad for a laugh now and then. No, those are Corvus-style cages. The abos found some locked away in the storage cell at the old Amidala City Guard barracks. They just replicated what they found and used them to make an example of malcontents. To discourage any thought beings have of joining the likes of your outfit." Alpha explained.
"I'll be sure to return the favor . . . if we ever bother taking prisoners." SF-4738 admitted as they entered the edge of the broad Tarkin's Square.
The central plaza of Amidala City was not the bustling epicenter SF-4738 remembered. The grand fountain that had erupted several stories into the air on his past visits stood empty and dry. The ruins of the Imperial Mercantile Exchange and Tarkin Tower were roped off and under guard by several Confederate Army troopers sitting idly on the hoods of their military landspeeders. A miserable line of Imperials, human and alien alike, were queued up in front of the gate waiting their turn to register for Confederate Alien Identicards. SF-4738 wondered what would make them ever desire proof they were a lower class than even the bottom rungs of Confederate society.
Across the mostly empty square, SF-4738 spotted a small gathering in front of the river wall. What appeared to be forty to fifty Confederate civilians watching a gathering of Confederate troopers atop the wall. By their uniforms he judged them to be two CIA officers along with three Military Policemen, one of them armed with a menacing sniper rifle. More Military Police stood at the bottom of the wall to keep the crowd from ascending the stone steps. Instead, they pushed four individuals dressed in orange jumpsuits up the stairs towards the agents awaiting them in front of four new electrocution cages.
"Those our guys?" SF-4738 asked, already assuming the answer.
"That's them." Alpha confirmed.
"Going to be tough to get to them, even with your little toy here." SF-4738 tapped the suped up CryoShock grenade.
"Throw it at the base of the wall. That will take care of the troopers at ground level and disperse the crowd. Just leaves you the three guardsmen up top and the two scum from the CIA. You got a weapon right?"
SF-pulled his tunic just slightly enough to give Alpha a glimpse of his trusty SE-14c blaster pistol. The weapon had been just small enough to smuggle past the guards at the gate.
"That pea shooter won't help much. I know they're not armored up Legionnaires but you're still going to need something a tad heavier. I'm sure you're familiar with this guy." SF-4738 didn't know where Alpha-17 was concealing it but he pulled forth an E-11b blaster rifle. The weapon fit in the palm of his hand like an old lover sliding into his embrace as he slipped it unseen underneath his tunic.
"That will even the odds a bit. But even after I take out the targets on top of the wall and free your guys, how in the kriff am I ever going to make it out again. Those boys are going to be on me like Jawas at a crash site." SF-4738 nodded to the resting Army and Legion troopers guarding the two wrecked buildings as well as the ones patrolling the Imperial Palace grounds in the distance.
"They won't have time. Get over the wall and I will be waiting." Alpha said.
"What do you mean you'll be waiting?"
Alpha separated from SF-4738 and walked over to a concealed manhole cover. He activated the latch, opening the aperture to gain access to the sewers below. "Give me five minutes and you'll find out. Oh, and if you don't go through with it I'll understand, but those assets up there will die. And the Empire and Anax will be weaker for it."
With that he gave a brisk salute and jumped down into the hole. The hatch closed silently behind him.
"Five minutes my shebs." SF-4738 grumbled.
He slowly walked across the square towards the central fountain. He made it look like he was heading towards the long line in front of the palace but had to stop and rest at the empty water-works. He sat down along the edge of the fountain some thirty meters behind the Earthling crowd watching the prisoners.
He noticed the ones in the crowd seemed to be the types that really enjoyed capital punishment. They jeered and yelled at the prisoners as they stood atop the wall awaiting their punishment. The only delay, SF-4738 could see, was that the two CIA agents were attempting to launch a small cambot to record the proceedings. One of them shook the small device in frustration while his partner openly sneered and mocked the four prisoners.
A trio of military chopters passed lazily over Tarkin's Square. Their door gunners passively scanning the ground for nonexistent threats. One of them made eye contact with SF-4738 as they passed over. The ex-sergeant found himself knowing exactly how the other shoe fit. Twenty years ago he had been in the same boots as the occupier from Earth. And just like the Earthling Troopers had done their best to kill him back then, he was going to return the favor a hundred fold. He thought of Anax as he watched the chopters disappear up river.
He looked at his chrono. Five minutes were nearly up. He still wasn't sure what Alpha was planning for their exit. Perhaps he had SeaTrooper tanks waiting on the far side of the wall. He just had to trust the old clone.
With all eyes on the proceedings on the wall, he pulled out the oblong CryoShock grenade. He did the wide handed grip that Quan had shown him. He stood with a wide stance, arched his shoulder back and snapped his arm forward. The grenade flew through the air in a perfect spiral. Not knowing the blast radius of the rather large explosive he dove into the fountain and ducked behind its barrier wall.
The sound of the CryoShock was unlike any explosive SF-4738 had used before. Instead of the normal boom he expected the bursting of the liquid nitrogen plasma spun with tibanna sounded like cracking ice. As he peered over his shoulder purple tendrils of frozen flames arced over the fountain.
As soon as the blast passed over him he sprang to his feet and leapt out of the empty fountain. Instead of knocked over and prone bodies, as he was expecting, the CryoShock had burst at the base of the wall sending its blast wave out into Tarkin's Square, turning everyone in its path into a frozen statue of themselves. SF-4738 wasn't sure if they were alive or dead and didn't have the time to find out. The five Confederates atop the wall were untouched and gaping down at the frozen horror below them.
SF-4738 started to sprint towards the wall. His heavy footsteps on the cobblestones sent tiny vibrations through the ground. Their impacts were all it took to shatter the closest Confederate statue as he rushed past. The first ones to crack and burst crashed to the ground and a thousand pieces cascaded outwards and shattered the ones next to them until all of the frozen civilians in the back of the crowd were shattering and collapsing to the ground.
The three Military Police took protective positions ahead of the two CIA agents. The one with the large sniper slugthrower was the first to spot the man leaping out of the fountain and charging straight for them. He raised his rifle and whipped off a poorly aimed shot at SF-4738 as he zigged through the frozen forest. His slug hit the chilled army trooper next to SF-4738, exploding it in a burst of ice chunks.
SF-4738 reached the bottom of the stairs before the would-be sniper could aim his second shot. The MP sent the second slug straight down the stairway, but SF-4738 ran straight at the wall and spun upwards. He could feel the heat of the projectile streak past his back and tug at his tunic.
He landed on the stairs and raced upwards. He could feel the frozen stone crumbling beneath his feet as he ascended. The two other Military Police shouted at their voice-activated battle rifles to disengage their safety features as he closed.
The sniper tried to aim his third shot, but SF-4738 already had his E-11b free and aimed. His first bolt caught the sniper in the belly and burst out his back. The two follow-on bolts caught him straight in the chest, burning straight through the man's heart followed by the last bolt that entered the trooper's neck and severed his spine.
The sniper was still falling as SF-4738 reached the top of the stairs. The closest Military Policeman didn't have time to aim and weakly swung his battle rifle at the approaching danger. SF-4738 parried the weapon with his E-11b while putting a bolt from his SE-14c into the back of the man's head. The third trooper was blocked from his shot by his comrade but that didn't stop SF-4738 from putting a bolt into his right eye, killing him as instantly as his compatriots.
The CIA Agent in front of the prisoners activated the grenade launcher attached to his own battle rifle and squeezed the trigger. SF-4738 had just enough time to catch the falling, faceless trooper by the collar and pull him into the line of fire. The grenade sunk deep into the dead trooper's back and when it exploded it sent dozens of chunks of meat across the top of the wall.
Drenched in the dead man's blood, SF-4738 charged across the space where the trooper's pieces were still raining down. He had the SE-14c drawn. The CIA Agent looked on in terror at the approaching assailant. He tried to raise a hand to beg for mercy and turn away. It was too late. SF-4738 put a bolt in the side of the man's head that went neatly in one ear to burst messily from the other.
The last CIA agent didn't even try to fight. He screamed "No!" and turned to flee towards the edge of the wall. Was this really the scum that had ordered the invasion of Anax? The men that threatened his family? SF-4738's vision turned red with rage. He pulled forth his concealed vibrobayonet and grabbed the agent by the back of his uniform. He swept the man's legs, knocking him to his knees. SF-4738 grabbed him by his hair and yanked his head back. He hacked down once and then twice at the CIA Agent's neck, severing it from its body.
SF-4738 held the head up for everyone in Tarkin's Square to see. There was a rousing cheer from the line of Imperials waiting in front of the Imperial Palace. Most of whom scattered and left the line, never to return.
The partisan leader tossed the head off the wall and into the river. He took a second to peek into the waters below and smiled at what he saw. He ran over to where the CIA Agents had been messing with the small flying droid and stomped on it as he grabbed the controls to the prisoners' stun-cuffs. He tossed the electrokey to the Vorzydiak, Felana, who immediately started freeing herself and the other prisoners.
He ran to the riverside edge of the wall and turned back to the four freed prisoners. "Come with me if you want to live."
To emphasize his words a slug zipped past his head. SF-4738 peered back across the wide square. Legionnaires and Confederate Army Troopers were racing towards them from the Imperial Mercantile Exchange and Tarkin Tower ruins. A few of them took a knee for better aim while others were calling out ranges for their battle rifles.
SF-4738 gave the enemy troopers an irrelevant salute and then stepped backwards off the wall. He fell nearly six meters before landing in the passenger seat of a tribubble bongo submarine. Alpha looked over at him from the driver's chair. "Buckle up, buttercup. The river is the one exit from the city the abos forgot to patrol."
There were four thuds from the back seat. SF-4738 turned and grinned at the four newest members of his partisans. One of them, Orka, recoiled in shock at the blood covered man grinning at them, but tried his best to get over it. Volfe Phinx, the bloodsucker, simply looked hungry. Alpha closed the bubble hatches and put the bongo into a dive.
SF-4738 shook the hands of the four new arrivals. "Welcome to the rebellion."
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Up Next: Lunar R&R
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