Tarkin's Fist IV: Blood and Durasteel

by AshlaTi

A generation has passed since the devastation of the Empire-Earth War. Now a new conflict rages, this time the battles are fought among the stars themselves. A new enemy rises to threaten both the Empire and Earth's very existence. New characters and old raise arms against one another for the very fate of the Milky Way

66. Anax Rotations

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Forward Operating Space Base Juliet, Kafrene Outpost

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Emma Mallory felt like a zombie. When she had been told they had been removed from the bombing roster for today, she had to be told three times before it finally sank in.

Since coming to this frozen hell after the loss at New Thyfeeria her life had been a constant rotation of fifteen hour round trip flights to and from Anax with a dogfight and battle in the middle of every trip. She hadn't just watched her fellow pilots go up and never return; she had watched whole squadrons go down in flames over the thick forests of Anax. Bomber Wings that had pounded Imperial worlds at the start of the war were nothing more than memories to ground crew who had stopped waiting for their charges to return.

The 17th Air Wing was down to its last thirty-seven aircrew and nineteen Y-3s and X-1s. Emma was almost numb to the fact that they had numbered eight hundred pilots and turret gunners when they had arrived at Kafrene Outpost.

She sat across from her wingman Lieutenant Moon absently scooping a mix of bland white rice and hamburger helper into her mouth. The mess hall doubled as a shrine and a Captain from the Public Affairs office sat on one end reading aloud quotes from Guardian of the Whills scripture. None of the two dozen personnel in the mostly empty mess hall paid any attention to him.

Moon chuckled as he ate his dessert. Emma gave him a queer stare. "What's so funny?"

The Korean held up his spoon. "We are short of nearly everything out here. It takes them three weeks just to get one of our bombs all the way from Earth. But the one thing that keeps working is the fucking ice cream machine."

Emma chuckled. It was negative thirty degrees up on the surface at the moment. That was practically summer on Kafrene Outpost. Thank God they had finally built heated revetments for their fighters so Emma didn't have to expose herself to the frigid winds before every mission anymore. Even here, ten stories below the surface, a chill filled the air despite the constant effort of geothermal heating units. Emma never went anywhere without her blue-grey parka cinched tightly over her orange flight suit.

"About as funny as a phaser bolt to the head, Moon." Emma continued eating her meal. Like most people at the base, she smothered everything in tabasco sauce to kill the blandness. A convoy showed up every other day with several million tons of supplies but they'd yet to get a spice rack out here. Of course, a million tons of supplies didn't go as far as it once did. Kafrene had six Legions guarding it and had added two more since the summer campaign against Judicar had started. Two more Legions were another twenty thousand mouths to feed and that didn't count the fifty thousand support and construction personnel they had added since the start of the bombing campaign against Anax. All of them living like moles to avoid the freezing surface of the planet.

"What do you want to do with our day off. Squadron is streaming Top Gun 3 and Iron Eagle in the Ready Room." Moon suggested.

Emma was about to say it would be about the tenth time she had seen both of those flicks when Lieutenant Commander Navander entered the room with about a dozen fresh pilots following him. He saw the two dining pilots and made a beeline right for them. Emma could tell they were fresh because they appeared shocked when Moon and Emma didn't bother to rise and snap to attention when Navander approached. Navander had long lost the ability to care about military protocol out here on the forward edge of the Confederacy.

"Mallory. Moon. What are you two slackers doing?" Navander demanded.

"Sir, we're not in the flight rotation today so we were getting some grub." Moon replied.

"That's because what's left of the 17th has been disbanded. Us and the few guys left from the 52nd are being rolled up into 21st Air Group." Navander jerked a thumb at the pilots behind him. They just arrived last night. Five hundred new spacecraft ready to take over the campaign against Pride Rock. These ones will be flying with you two and I need you to tell them what's what."

One of the new pilots started to ask Navander something but the veteran brushed him aside and headed towards the ice cream machine. The Lieutenant Commander grabbed a bowl and spoon and headed towards the door. Without even looking back he mentioned. "We'll be back on the roster tomorrow. All 1-7 and 5-2 AG facilities belong to the 2-1 AG now."

Emma motioned for the new pilots to grab some chow. When they did, they took a seat along the long mess table. One of the pilots, with Y-3 pilot wings on her uniform, made a face at the bowl of goulash in front of her, then turned to Emma. "Is it true, Lieutenant, there are aliens up on the surface?"

"You guys haven't seen ETs yet? Where are you coming from?" Moon asked the bomber pilot.

"Most of us just switched over from F55s and B3s. We were slated to transfer to Peru to help soften up the traitors in New Zealand, when someone cut us new orders to train on space craft. We spent a month in simulators on Luna before they sent us out here." The pilot explained. Emma nodded. If her timeline was correct those new orders were probably cut somewhere around the disaster at New Thyfeeria, when Admiral Hollander had to switch up the entire focus of the new summer campaign. Plus, from what Emma heard, every colony back up the Bloodstripe Run was calling for all sorts of reinforcements. No wonder Confederate Center wasn't giving the New Mandalorians half the attention they should have. Everything off of Earth was more important.

Well, if they had come from Earth it stood to reason, they'd never seen an alien outside of old war footage from the Earth-Empire War. Emma shrugged and took another bite. Even giving a briefing wasn't going to bother her. "I've never seen them but the Legions that were here first say there are two types; Boosodians and Talz. One of them supposedly looks like an abominable snowman and the other ones look like grey snapping turtles. They've got hidden villages up in the mountains or in underground caves. Who knows. Patrols get blown up by an IED every now or then or a guard turns up missing. Though that could just be someone freezing to death up there and then getting buried by the snow."

"Biggest danger is they're watching us." Moon interjected. "They shoot all sorts of reports back to their Empress. CIA radio interception units are thick all over this world. Trying to track them down. It's tough with the weather and they've got all sorts of beasts that they ride which have no trouble with the cold and snow."

"I heard something else is out there watching us. When we make our bombing runs." Another newcomer piped in.

"Better watch where you say that." Emma warned. "You referring to the ghost ships?"

"Aye. We heard about them when we refueled on Ord Vairecant. Some kind of space submarine." The pilot replied. He looked around nervously. If the CIA had heard him say that, they'd want a few words with him.

"Yeah, Imperial cloaked ships as far as anyone can figure. Half the Revenges on the Bloodstripe Run are getting reassigned to either hunt them down or convoy duty to protect our transports. From what I hear the Impies always got one or two stationed in this system. They watch us launch every day and then warn Anax that we're coming." Emma said.

"Gives their pilots a nice chance to rest up and get ready." Moon added.

"Doesn't seem fair. We've got seven hours of flight time before we hit them." The first pilot complained.

"True. Make sure you hit the head before takeoff. Oh, and bring a bottle or something to relieve yourself. Trust me." Moon said, which got some chuckles out of the newer pilots. The only thing, Emma knew, is he wasn't kidding. It was a damn exhaustingly long flight.

"What's it like over Anax itself?" One of the youngest pilots asked, He was wearing X-1 wings on his uniform.

"Anax is the biggest forest you've ever seen. You'd never imagine that many trees in your entire life. And they're big suckers. We can't keep any satellites up there so you can forget about GPS and Nap-of-the-Earth guidance, that's a laugh. The big wroshyrs act like hills, that sway back and forth. If you've got a strong wind, they can move a half kilometer one way or another, usually across your flight path." Emma explained.

"Never mind if they've gotten rain over night. Those trees can grow ten meters between bombing runs so anything your navicomps have in their cores is useless by the next rotation." Moon said.

"The Interceptors aren't too bad. That's pretty much all the Imps are using for defense. They've got some TIE/sa but they save those for our capital ships and transports. We generally outnumber them, at least according to Intel. They think there's anything up to two hundred of them at any one time. But their pilots are all vets by now. We take about one or two in twenty of our own shot down in every attack. I'd estimate another three Y-3s due to their heavy AA and missile batteries." Emma didn't want to scare the newcomers. Odds were they'd be flying side by side the very next day. So it was better they knew the truth up front.

"Thickest flak I've ever seen, and we were at New Thyfeeria and Plympto Blight." Moon stated, which earned them a look of respect from the new arrivals.

"You wishbone pilots will want to pucker up. The Interceptors will take up positions on your approach and exit lanes. They like to do overhead passes by turning into the opposite direction of your formations. They like to avoid the stingers you guys carry in your asses." Emma referred to their tail gunners. "Then they'll flip over onto their backs and plunge through our X-1 formations at top speed. They go from right to left to avoid collisions with each other, then climb away to the left and circle with their wingmen."

"Yeah, they like to sit up there and try to draw you away from the bombers. They love dogfights. A single TIE is no problem but they stick to their wingman like glue. You get on one and their partner will perform that strange, little weave they developed and be on you with their chin cannons in a heartbeat." Moon explained. "Never leave your wingman to engage them or you're as good as dead."

"And dead can mean a lot of things over Anax." Emma sighed, remembering too many craft burning and spinning into the forest.

"What do you mean?" The first pilot asked again.

"Anax is far more dangerous on the ground. Let's not forget if you make it down in one piece, you're there for the duration. No one is coming to pick you up until the Legions recapture Pride Rock."

"Speaking of which our Legion boys are only located between Pride Rock and the ruins of Reborn. You bail out anywhere else and you're lost like Amelia Earhart." Moon said. "And that's not even mentioning the Ewoks."

"What the hell are Ewoks?"

Emma smirked and leaned closer to the newcomers. Each of them mirrored her. "Have you guys ever heard of serial killer, cannibal teddy bears?"

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Pride Rock

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1st Lieutenant August missed the Slash, or more precisely she longed to be near some semblance of Imperial civilization again. She needed a fresher, one that had been thoroughly cleaned by droids. One with sonics preferably.

Not that Pride Rock didn't have showers and a place to get clean. It had hydro-showers with water pumped up from a local creek full of Dragon Snakes. The base's water purifiers were hard pressed to sanitize all of it and there was a certain red coloring and alkaline taste to the liquid whenever she bathed.

Life underground was dark and harsh. Laundry services were nonexistent and Stormtroopers wore their body gloves until they disintegrated. The crisp, clean white armor that could be found on nearly every ship in the Fleet was absent on Anax. Stormtrooper armor here was covered in black and brown grime and muck. Troopers kept their armor in such condition to help conceal themselves among the multitude of boulders that made up the three cliff faces of Pride Rock. Confederate bombers had scoured and blackened the surface of the base with napalm bombs, ironically creating conditions perfect for camouflaging Stormtroopers once they muddied their armor. On the other side, green and tan clad Earth Legionnaires stuck out like sore claws once they emerged from the thick forest and attempted to cross the burnt fields around the mountain.

Rations weren't anything to holo home about. Ghoba rice and Chandad were served twice a day. If you didn't like the bland taste, that was alright, because there was never enough of it. When the 1st Legion had captured the air base, they had confiscated several tubs of the Earthling condiment called ketchup which troopers used to smother their meals or perhaps help them imagine they were eating something else for a change.

"Slash pilots to your fighters." A voice called over the base's intercom.

August grabbed her Naval TIE Helmet and scrambled for the nearest blast door. Several other pilots, including her panelman, Lieutenant Zahn, ran behind her. They took special turbolifts that rocketed them to the rows of armored TIE bays just below the mountain's peak. There they separated and sprinted for their own individual Interceptors. August was greeted by a lone lift operator who activated the elevator floors and raised them to the surface.

August had learned a lot in her few days on Anax. She detached the fueling hoses and cast them aside. She gave a quick once over to ensure there were no holes in her solar panels and that the cooling lines to the ion engines were removed and clamped shut. As soon as she climbed into the cockpit, she checked to make sure her tibanna was full, Yesterday, it hadn't been refilled and she had almost launched with empty cannons. She was proud she remembered to look this time. Before she had been forced to land on Anax she didn't even know how to refuel her TIE.

Ground crew were in short supply on Pride Rock, and if a pilot didn't look after their Interceptor here, well then, they didn't fly. Or worse, something would go wrong and they'd end up flying into a tree.

It was night when they launched. The moon Azure shined bright in the evening sky. Below them the darkened form of Pride Rock pierced the great forest. Every few minutes a small artillery slug would explode somewhere along its slope or rocky edifice. The Confeds had a few batteries of heavy slugthrower howitzers that they had manhandled into the upper branches of various trees in the area. They emerged at night and dueled Imperial batteries on the mountain. Sure enough, a battery of six SPHA-T returned fire on the irritating Earthling gunners several kilometers to the south.

The twelve Interceptors in their squadron took up a position overlooking eighteen TIE/sa bombers that had launched a few minutes after the fighters. One good thing about night flying on Anax was there was little chance of encountering Space Force fighters. The Confederates knew all about the comm and sensor problems caused by the local star, Anax Alpha's, coronal mass ejections and used that interference to mask their daily attacks on Pride Rock, primarily hitting the airbase at high noon. Coming in at night just left them painted by the dozen large subspace radars and SigInt sensors the Imperials had installed among their defenses. All of that meant the Imperials were masters of the sky at night over Anax.

"Anyone know what's going on? I was on the fresher when that stang alarm went off." Vyvya, Strikeout's panalman asked.

Sandtusker, the Squadron's commander, barked across the comm channel. "Planetary watchers been watching the Solars salvage stuff at Reborn. They think they ID'd a new supply dump they set up about twenty klicks north of the town."

The captain referred to the Imperials who had stayed behind when Space Force had occupied Anax. Most of the fifty thousand ex Stormtroopers civilians had been evacuated but less than a hundred had stayed behind and sent intelligence back to Fleet Intelligence on Palpatine Prime. They had been backed up by a large force of Ewoks who were vicious little forest fighters. Together they had launched a harassment campaign against the occupiers that was slowly starving two Confederate Legions to death.

As for what he meant by the term 'town' was anybody's guess. Reborn had been the only habitation of any size on Anax before the war, but had been thoroughly abandoned by the time the Confederacy had turned up and nuked the place. Space Force had tried several times to use the ruins as an open landing zone to offload supplies for their embittered forces but had suffered heavy losses with each attempt.

Strikeout thought of the mission as a blue milk run. Pilots that had been on Anax longer warned that the Legionnaires under the forest canopy occasionally blasted off ion-seeking stinger missiles, but she hadn't seen any of the weapons since they had come here three days ago. Perhaps the Confeds were hoarding them for something special. Hopefully they were piled up in the reported supply dump just waiting to be destroyed. She grinned at the thought.

Below them, the moonlit trees had small, vibrating balls of blue energy glowing deep within their foliage. Those particular decorations were a nifty trick created by the Bomb Troopers back at Pride Rock. Every two days they received more bombs delivered by transports out of Next-1. Unfortunately, Imperial energy bombs had trouble reaching the forest floor of Anax. And that was where the enemy was. The energy bombs tended to strike large branches or get caught up in the sprawling leaves of the wroshyr trees. So, the Bomb Troopers went to work and attached altitude triggers to each bomb preventing them from exploding until they were fifteen meters off the ground. They then rigged gyro-stabilizers to each explosive which constantly jostled and shook them free of any snags they hit on the way down. Each bomb had a hosts of anti-tamper devices as well as an automatic timer that initiated their detonators anywhere from a few hours to a couple of rotations.

Earthling Legionnaires learned quickly to clear out of the area before the bombs shook themselves low enough to explode. Strikeout was glad to learn the wroshyrs' bark was near close enough to Star Destroyer armor and energy bombs hardly scarred them when they went off. It made her feel better about helping bomb the forest.

Flight time to the target was only a few minutes as Pride Rock and Reborn were only separated by less than three hundred kilometers. Sandtusker commed the bombers under their charge. "Loth Cat Lead, this is Nydak Lead. We've reached target coordinates and the skies are clear. It's all yours."

"Copy that Nydak Lead." The bomber flight leader replied. The TIE/sa lazily lined up for their bombing runs. Each one matched its panelman as they came in two at a time over the target.

Strikeout didn't have anything else to do besides double check her instruments and sensor panel. "Lead, I'm detecting thousands of life signs down there. Cross-check to calibrate against your readings?"

"It's wash out, Strikeout. Those big wroshyrs emit massive life sign readings. Don't worry it hurts the Solars as well. They can't see poodoo out of the Ewoks that are watching them." Sandtusker chuckled over the comm.

Bombs started falling away from the TIE/sa. Loth Cat Leader located a small gap between three trees that let their bombs tumble down two kilometers before they started hitting branches. With another klick and a half to go the energy bombs started ricocheting all across the local area.

An arc of blaster fire rose from the trees but fell away before coming within range of the strike force. Vyvya chirped up. "I think there's a walker down there. Caught a glimpse of something big for a second."

"Yeah, the Solars have a couple dozen of those AMP-5 fierfekers according to the scouts. Mark it for the bombers." Sandtusker ordered.

Four bombers circled the area Vyvya indicated before dropping several bombs each into the darkened forest. Strikeout didn't witness any explosions and figured the walker must have gotten away.

Suddenly, at the original target site, a massive explosion roared to life. The shockwave arced away from the blast site shaking the leaves of the wroshyrs for several kilometers. A white cloud in the shape of a Parwan's head rose above the forest. Fires deep below lit up the distant forest floor.

Cheers filled the comm channel from bomber and fighter pilot alike. Sandtusker whistled. "Scratch one supply depot."

"Wizard. I hope the scum starves." Vyvya added. "Still prefer fleet action, Strikeout? Here they hardly blast back at you."

Strikeout had to admit it sure felt good to hit the Confederates when they couldn't do anything to strike back. She chuckled. "Ask me that again when I get a decent sonic."

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CENN Ragnarok, Anax Oort Cloud

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Some might think the fiery blue, green, orange and red tendrils slowly undulating across the Anax System were a thing of beauty. To a captain of a Confederate Revenge class corvette, they were the stuff of nightmares.

"All watches man your stations. Sound general quarters." Captain Romano ordered the Space Force Guardians manning the Ragnarok's various battle stations. Their sensors were highly compromised inside the Anax System due to the extraordinary solar activity. Luckily, the natural phenomenon had the same effect on the enemy's sensors. Detecting the eight Revenges slowly sneaking into the Anax System would be difficult for the Empire.

Romano looked ahead towards the Barbarossa. This whole operation had been the brain child of his commander, Captain Mallory. The Hero of the Ares, as he was known in the press, Justin Mallory had also become a great friend to many of his crew and a formidable leader in battle. At the moment the former Ranger-turned-captain was aboard the Barbarossa leading ships from Corvette Squadrons 22 and 14 on this dangerous mission behind enemy lines.

"Maintain position with the Barbarossa. Passive sensors only. No need to alert the Imps that we are in the neighborhood." The Italian commander told his Guardians. He knew the helm would have trouble maintaining proper following distance without the subspace radar and would have to judge it by sight alone. A tough challenge in space.

It had been a week since the recent Battle of Rimward Anax. At least that's what the Confederate News Network called it. They also claimed Space Force and their First Order allies had sunk up to five Star Destroyers. Romano didn't believe there were actually that many Imperial capital ships at the skirmish. Any mention of the loss of the Rage and its mostly Earthling crew was almost nonexistent in the Confederate media.

Romano had been with Mallory during the battle when he had come up with the idea to supply the Legions battling for control of the planet Anax. When they had returned to Kafrene Outpost he had presented the proposal to Admiral Hollander herself. The Kafrene was at the end of a long supply chain back to Earth and it had taken them this long to secure the fuel for such an outing. Besides, with the Imperial Fleet rumored to be massing in the Judicar and Kuat Systems right next door, the risk was considered too great for anything bigger than a corvette to undertake the first trial. That was alright with Captain Romano. Revenges were perfect for such hit and run tactics.

He had been eager to try Mallory's idea. The quicker Anax fell the sooner he could, perhaps, be granted leave. He and his wife had been exchanging e-mails for weeks. As 2nd Classers they had finally been given permission to move off of Earth and his wife and small children had been relocated to a large house on a world called Wugosa. He sighed in relief. CNN was full of stories of crime waves and riots from the lower two classes back on Earth. Not to mention they seemed to see New Mandalorian spies and saboteurs around every corner back there. Better they were off Earth for now, he believed.

They had stayed at Kafrene Outpost maneuvering between its hundreds of moons and unsuccessfully hunting invisible ghost ships until a large convoy had arrived from the Sol System. Guarded by the First Order's Hostilizer, Dishonor, and Calamity as well as the super heavy cruisers Kleanse and Heave, a squadron of five fuelers straight from the refineries at Venus had arrived. Romano wondered where they were when good Confederates were dying on the Rage? They had brought along six fuelers with a two-month supply of fuel and hypermatter aboard. Romano hoped Anax would have fallen by then, but so far, the Empire had put up a much more formidable defense of the wooded world than anyone would have predicted at the start of the summer.

Now, as the Galaxy rolled into September, no one could foretell just how long the battle would last before the inevitable Confederate victory and the resumption of the stalled campaign coreward towards Palpatine Prime. As such, Hollander played her cards cautiously, only allowing Revenges to test Mallory's battle plan.

Romano wondered just who was in charge. Admiral Hollander seemed more of a political officer with ties to the First Lady. Admiral Jethran, of the First Order, had given them a victory or at least a tie at Rimward Anax. It seemed everyone at Kafrene jumped whenever their allies wanted something, and their ships were always first in line for the fuelers. Jethran didn't object to the plan when he heard about it. Romano figured the First Order officer didn't really care about risking Earthlings to supply other Earthlings as it didn't hurt the First Order any.

The plan that Hollander had approved of and Jethran had given a tentative go ahead called for six of the Revenges, three from each Squadron, to be loaded down with supplies meant for the 34th and 8th Legions. Their X-1 scouts were removed for the supply run to make room for more cargo while the two other Revenges and their four X-1s provided escort.

In a way the mission was an experiment of sorts, to determine which was the best method of delivery, since unloading at Reborn was prohibitive due to the abundance of TIEs over Anax. Two of the Revenges towed glide barges, manned by a pair of pilots each. The bulk carriers were unwieldy and prevented their corvette tows from jumping into hyperspace if the need arose. Romano had little faith in such a method as the barges needed to be crashed into the forests to land. If anything aboard exploded, that would be the end of everything aboard such a load. Two more Revenges mounted nearly twenty large shipping containers to their hulls. Like the barges they would be dropped into areas of the forest believed to be under Confederate control. However, the containers would be unmanned, and suffer whatever damage and fate awaited them amongst the trees. Lastly, two Revenges, the Ragnarok among them, had nearly five hundred steel barrels lashed together in groups of five and attached to parachutes. These supply barrels would be scattered across the Confederate control zone. Hopefully, the parachutes would slow their descent and be gathered up by the awaiting Legionnaires on the ground or, more than likely, cut down from the branches in which they ensnared themselves.

"Anax in sight. Sensors are detecting negative enemy bandits in orbit around Anax or Azure." Lieutenant Johannesson reported. His hands stayed near the release handles that would cut loose the bulky containers strapped to their sides. If an Imperial ship made an appearance, they would have to sacrifice the load to use their proton torpedo launchers.

"Acknowledged. Follow the Barbarossa in and prepare to slow to two-five-zero knots over Reborn. Captain Mallory will steer us towards Pride Rock, so anywhere after Reborn will suffice to drop our cargo." Romano reminded his Guardians of their mission's objective.

The Ragnarok shuddered slightly as she entered the planet's upper atmosphere. He hoped his load masters securely fastened the cargo straps while they had orbited Kafrene Outpost. It wouldn't pay to lose any over the vast empty stretches of forest occupied by neither Confederate or Imperial. As a precaution their reentry was the slowest Romano had ever commanded. None of the cargo could be allowed to overheat upon reentry either.

"Subspace is detecting enemy bogeys in the direction of Pride Rock." Lieutenant Tallon reported. "At least two dozen bandits heading in our direction."

"Class types?" Romano asked.

"Unable to determine. Gotta be TIEs though." The gunnery officer guessed. Most likely Interceptors and TIE/sa bombers. Though TIE Strikers had been recently reported by the new 22nd Air Wing which had hit the Imperial base a few hours ago. Romano wished Hollander had coordinated the two strikes better, but such matters seemed beneath a 1st Classer's notice.

"Barbarossa and Jutland have launched their X-1s. Message from the Barbarossa, stating all craft are to level off at six kilometers and prepare to drop their loads on Barbarossa's command." The Guardian at the CommScan station reported.

"Acknowledge that." Romano said. The great green sea below them swelled as they descended. They still had a few minutes left before the TIEs intercepted them. Ahead of them, the great crater of Reborn lay like a massive pockmark on the near uniform terrain of the wooded world. Beyond the irradiated ruins were nearly two hundred kilometers of giant wroshyr trees that sheltered the two battered Legions. Further on was a large unnamed mountain range, in which the five-kilometer peak of Pride Rock emerged from the forest at the start of its foothills. The flat-topped mesa was the obvious location for an airbase, even from this distance.

The Ragnarok settled into its cruising formation at eight thousand meters in formation with the other seven Revenges. The Guardians stayed hypervigilant at their sensor and weapons stations, calling out enemy targets as they appeared.

"Bandits are keeping their distance. They seem to be maintaining defensive posture over Pride Rock, sir." Tallon stated.

"They just watched us fly over Reborn. We usually drop supplies there. If they didn't see us do that, then they're probably assuming we are moving in to assault their base." Romano smiled. The Imperials looked to be falling for Mallory's plan, hook, line and sinker.

"Jutland is firing off air-to-air missiles." Johannesson reported.

"Just a warning to keep the Imps at arm's length, I think. That's pretty long range. Stand by the beam tubes for long range action." Romano barked.

"Barbarossa turning to vector one-five." Tallon shouted. "Go signal received."

"Cut the tethers!" Romano stood up from his captain's chair and peered out the forward cockpit.

The Ragnarok shot up into the air before her compensators could recalibrate for the sudden loss of several tons of supplies. Like a blossoming firework display on Vengeance Day, hundreds of parachutes opened up in their wake. With supply barrels drifting below their canopies, they drifted across the forest. Their olive-green nylon floated through the leaves until they snagged on various branches.

The barges and containers didn't fare as well. The pilots could do little to guide their ponderous craft once they entered the upper levels of the thick trees. Three of the four were killed on impact, and one of the barges was found and burned by Ewoks before Legionnaires on the ground could get to the crash site. Only half of the containers were recovered. Some were total losses on impact. Some were simply lost in the thick woods and others were over run and destroyed by enemy native troops who could move much faster through the woods than a heavily armored Legionnaire.

But in the end, nearly thirty tons of supplies made it into the hands of the two Legions below the trees. Enough to feed and arm them for a day in peacetime. Hopefully, they'd make it stretch a tad longer on Anax.

"Enemy bogeys on approach." Tallon warned. "Barbarossa says to not engage and make for orbit."

"Acknowledged. Tell Barbarossa they have the lead." Romano replied.

All eight Revenges made it back to high orbit and quickly set their courses for the return trip to Kafrene Outpost. The TIEs didn't give chase. Once they saw the supply cannisters being dropped they raced in to shoot as many of them as they could full of phaser holes. Romano feared they'd be ready when they tried this trick again. Most likely, tomorrow, or the next day.

"Send the Barbarossa a message." Romano told Tallon.

"Yes, sir."

"To Captain Mallory, CO CorSquad 22. Congratulations. It appears the Earth Express is open for business."

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Understory Layer, Anax Forest

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Corporal Lockwood tried to ignore the two morons babbling nearby. Unfortunately, she was responsible for the knuckleheads. "Yo, shitheads! Stop your yapping and keep an eye on your lines."

"Sure thing, Corp." Private Khulmano responded. The tall South African Legionnaire moved carefully along the massive limb suspended nearly a kilometer above the forest floor.

His partner, Private Thompson, provided tension on the climbing lines that snaked along the trunk far above them. Lockwood changed the magnification of her helmet lenses to keep an eye on Privates Basteren and Calfor, who were using climbing gear to reach para-dropped supply barrels ensnared in the upper branches of the massive tree. Privates Tonc and Rostoc anchored the lines along a higher branch just above the two British Legionnaires.

Lockwood swallowed her anger for the thousandth time today. The seven Legionnaires were all that remained of her platoon. Except for a handful of wounded, that lingered on for a few days after the battle, the vast majority of the 788th Battalion, as well as a battalion from the 8th Legion, had been wiped out at the frustrating Battle of Lizard Creek. Her frustration came, not from being curb-stomped, but from simply surviving. Why did they retreat, when they could have died trying to make the peak of Pride Rock? Sure, in hindsight, it probably was an impossible task. But was that because they didn't put forth their maximum effort, she wondered?

"Nah, first thing I'm going to have is an entire tub of mac n' cheese." Khulmano told his friend.

"I'm going to scarf down about twenty carne asada burritos the second my boots touch down on Earth." Thompson countered.

Lockwood rolled her eyes. She couldn't believe she rutted these guys from time to time. Back in July all they would have talked about was their dick size and killing ETs. Now that they were a few days into September and over a month from a decent resupply the only topic that filled their days was food. Lockwood's stomach grumbled. The two nearby Legionnaires were hardly the only ones focused on their next meals. Within the vast forest of Anax, two Confederate Legions were slowly nearing starvation.

Lockwood didn't care to think about what she would eat if they ever returned to Earth. She was equally convinced she wouldn't die of starvation here on Anax. The lower ranks might not know it but General Falltower was sure to launch another attack on Pride Rock. Three days of air drops had barely provided enough for the surviving Legionnaires to eat a meal or two and fill up the ammo magazines on their weapons. The only way they'd win this fight was if they took the airbase atop the mesa. Lockwood had already made up her mind that she would go up again. And next time she wasn't stopping until they reached the top.

Fighting Stormtroopers didn't scare her. If it hadn't been for their extremely well-built bunker system amid all the boulders around Pride Rock, they would have died like the cowards they were. No, she was frightened of a much more terrible reality. A fear that she had let down her President. Harris had sent them to Anax to help conquer the Empire and restore peace to the Milky Way. The 788th had failed to do that and had deserved to die.

If she couldn't help secure Pride Rock, then she had failed Harris twice. Better to die than face that shame a second time, she figured.

"Barrel coming down!" Calfor called from above. Tonc and Rostoc gingerly lowered the ropes attached to the supply container until Thompson could steady it.

Lockwood motioned for Khulmano to get to work and the big Legionnaire produced a crowbar which he used to pry open the cylinder. Several Legionnaires gathered around to see what they had salvaged from the latest airdrop. Since being wiped out the survivors of the 788th had been used to fill a vast multitude of holes in the other battalions. The Khans had found themselves reassigned to their sister battalion the 787th. It could have been worse, Lockwood figured, they could have wound up in the 8th Legion.

About ten Legionnaires crowded behind Khulmano. Their armor was caked in mud and saw dust, and their upper torsos and helmets were covered in make-shift ghillie suit camouflage, giving them all the appearance of walking shrubbery.

Khulmano cracked the lid and then tossed it over the side of the branch. He reached in and rummaged around for a few seconds before he pulled forth a small cylinder. He held it up for Lockwood's inspection. "Thermoflask canteens."

"Fucking hell, and they're empty to boot. They could have at least filled them with beer." Lockwood spat out her disgust. Anax was in the middle of its rainy season. Storms rolled through the area every few days and there were dozens of streams and rivers that flowed through the Legion's area of control between Reborn and Pride Rock. Hell, the Planetary Watchers and their pet Ewoks didn't even attempt to poison the local water. They must have known there was simply too much of it to do any good.

The waiting Legionnaires dispersed in disappointment. Other barrels were slowly being retrieved from up above. Perhaps they would have something of higher value. Khulmano's shoulders sagged. "I would have killed for an MRE."

"I would have murdered you straight up if you had pulled out a can of lima beans." Thompson half-joked with the other Legionnaire. Lockwood didn't want to admit it but she was wondering just how far off they were from stealing what little scraps they had left from each other. It might already be happening in the battalion she feared, just no one has told the officers and NCOs.

From the forest floor arose several cheers and howls. Lockwood was curious, keeping quiet was SOP here in the Anax woods. Too many things out there that could kill you if you let them know where you were. Lockwood turned to the Legionnaires on supply retrieval duty. "You guys stay here and finish this shit. I'm going to go check out whoever is making all that noise down there."

Khulmano and Thompson barely nodded. They didn't salute or verbally respond. Back in July she would have chewed them out for it. Now she barely noticed it herself. She walked to the edge and took a descending rope from another Legionnaire. She silently slipped over the side and fast roped downwards. She slid downwards several hundred meters before making contact with the muddy floor of the forest. She unstrapped her harness and moved off to investigate the sound of the continued cheering.

She approached the log bunker system that was the center of the 787th's HQ unit. There was so much natural and netting camouflage that Lockwood could only detect the entrance when she came within twenty yards of it. A single guard hidden in a small covered pit next to the entrance stopped her and then waved her through.

The Legionnaire corporal stepped into a world lit by low light lamps and computer screens. Intel techs sat in folding chairs behind plastic desks in their full armor watching dozens of displays. Intel reports sent back to Kafrene Outpost or General Falltower's HQ here on Anax had to be sent and resent dozens of times due to Anax Alpha's interference.

Some of the monitors showed live feeds from the hundreds of drones the Legion used for reconnaissance. Since they had lost Pride Rock most of the drones had been tasked with hunting down the planetary watchers and their alien allies. Lockwood looked at a number scribbled on a nearby white board; 47. They had forty-seven drones left flying, mapping the forest and hunting Ewoks. Drones that over flew Pride Rock were almost always shot down. The Empire had once fought a massive war against robots and hardly batted an eye at what the Earth threw at them. Ewoks hunted down the others at a rate of around dozen every day. One more thing that needed to be brought in on the new daily supply drops. But if they brought in more drones, that just meant Space Force had to leave something else back in the supply dumps on Kafrene Outpost or Ro-Loo or Protivos.

She looked at more numbers on the white board. Only one stood out. OPFOR: Imperial 1st Legion, estimated strength 10K. She whispered to herself. "Fuck where was that info before Lizard Creek?"

The howls came from the back of the bunker complex. The Intel techs had nothing for a corporal and didn't acknowledge that she was even there, so she had no issue with passing on through.

Out back there was a large gathering of Legionnaires. Their backs were turned on Lockwood and their focus was on something laying on the ground in front of them. Lockwood tapped the shoulder of the Legionnaire in front of her. "What the fuck is all this?

The Legionnaire answered over his shoulder. "Delta Force bagged a 'wok."

As he answered a special forces Legionnaire pulled on a rope. A small, furry corpse, bound at the feet was hauled upside-down into the air. The animal was displayed like a trophy killed by a hunter back on Earth.

She had only seen flashes of them in distant treetops or heard other Legionnaire descriptions of them. The furry, brown creature dangled from the rope. Lockwood thought it was spotted at first but then realized it had matted blood from several bullet holes in its fur. The alien wore a leather hood on its head, but other than that was nude from the head down. How had such a pathetic creature terrorized two Legions and held up Admiral Hollander's advance for two months? We were failing the President because of these animals, Lockwood silently raged.

"Ought to chop its head off and send it back to Earth. The President can mount it above his fireplace in the Earth House." A Sergeant told the Delta Force operators who laughed in return.

"This little furry fuck was tracking us for three days before we ambushed him." The Special Forces Lieutenant announced. He looked at Lockwood as she stepped to the front of the crowd for a better look at the beast. "Got something to say to it, Corporal?"

Lockwood removed her helmet and glared at the alien's fuzzy face. Then she hauled back her head and hocked a large glob of spit onto it. The saliva dangled off the alien's cheek and soaked into its fur.

"We're going to slaughter all of your friends, you murderous little asshole. And then I'm going to wear you like one of the First Lady's fur coats."

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Anax Forest, 18 Kilometers from Pride Rock

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The trees spoke, and Tarfang listened.

His Imperial tribesmen looked at him funny when he says that; as though he'd said his headdress tasted weird, or water rises from the ground and goes into the sky when it rains.

They think he's silly. They don't understand. Trees are just things to them.

The Ewoks know better.

The tree is father and mother to all Ewoks. The tree is shelter. A perch to hide from a predator. A source of food. A source of warmth for a fire.

A place from which to stalk your prey.

Tarfang moved the leaf he was hiding behind, careful not to cause any noise. From here, over a hundred meters off the ground, from this particular branch of the great Wroshyr he could see the forest floor for half a kilometer in every direction.

Tarfang ran his hand over the bark of the Wroshyr as he steadied himself on the branch he was sitting on. The hard, twisted grooves of the bark felt familiar and welcoming. Tarfang smiled and said a silent word of thanks to the spirit of this particular tree.

He had much to be thankful for. The Ewoks had always known of the importance of the tree. Since his father and his fellow tribesmen left Endor on an Imperial shuttle, they had learned much more of the trees.

The trees were not only a source of food and protection, as they had always known, but were also responsible for the very oxygen they breathed. How could Tarfang not be thankful to them?

The Ewoks respected the trees. And the trees, he believed, respected those who showed respect.

From her perch next to Tarfang his second in command, Hael, nervously drummed her fingers against the handle of the Imperial issued vibroblade sheathed in the holster on her bandoleer. Tarfang didn't look at her, but he reached over and placed his hand over hers to stop her drumming. There was no way the enemy could possibly have heard them, but a hunter did not capture their prey by taking chances.

Especially when the hunter was prey as well.

Tarfang looked up from his search of the forest floor and looked over to Hael. She was nervous, but trying hard not to show it.

There was no shame in that, Tarfang thought. Seasoned warriors knew of the dangers of battle. But Tarfang knew that her concern was not for herself. Hael's brother Rulesh had accompanied them on this hunt. And while Rulesh was a strong warrior in his own right, knowing that her flesh and blood was at risk would have been trying to most Ewoks.

Tarfang took Hael's hand and planted it firmly on the branch. Hael nodded in understanding. They didn't dare say a word to each other, but she understood.

She had to be as resolute as the tree, and have faith that the spirits would return their respect.

*Crack*

The trees were indeed most generous. They had given away the position of the enemy. There, through the underbrush, they came. Stamping along the forest floor like a pack of murderous Gorax came a squad of Legionnaires. One of their number had loudly stepped on a fallen branch and snapped it in two, giving away their position.

Tarfang felt his fur ripple in indignation as the enemy made their presence known.

The Loot Chief of the Special Forest Militia had been born on Mars, and knew nothing of Endor from personal experience. But his Shaman had worked hard to keep their tribe's traditions and history alive. And the Legionnaires reminded Tarfang of nothing more than the Gorax.

The Gorax were the things of nightmares. Hulking, ravenous beasts; they tore down the trees, bellowing and snarling as they raided the villages of the Ewoks. To them the Ewoks were fit only to be food or pets. The only thing they cared for were themselves.

The Legionnaires were much the same. They stamped about the forest as though they owned it. They burned, stole, and despoiled everything and anything that got in their way.

Tarfang was not what the Earthlings would have called a tree hugger. At least, not in the traditional sense. Some trees existed to be cut down. You could make much with the wood from a tree. From a hut, to a weapon, to a canoe; the body of the tree provided much that the Ewoks needed to survive.

But there was a balance to all things. The Ewoks took what they needed; nothing more. And they honored the sacrifice of the tree that was cut down.

The Legionnaires showed no honor. They showed no respect. The Confederates had destroyed the town of Reborn with a nuclear weapon, when they could have simply blasted it with their ship's weapons instead. The radiation from the bomb had killed trees for kilometers around, browning their leaves, peeling away their bark. They even poisoned the very soil, so that nothing new could grow. Their cruelty had no doubt angered the spirits of the trees on this world.

And so, the trees took their revenge.

"What the fuck Sergeant JX-02/21/37? Are you trying to tell the goddamn teddy bears where we are?" One of the Legionnaires snarled, turning to stare at the one responsible for stepping on the branch. Tarfang pressed his hand to his lips to repress his urge to laugh. The Legionnaires, for all their snarling, were just as dumb as the Gorax from the Shaman's stories. The members of the squad looked like frightened Geejaws, their helmets flickering up and down and from left to right rapidly as they desperately searched for any sign of the Ewoks.

The clumsy Legionnaire shrunk away from his superior's wrath. "I'm sorry Captain, I couldn't help it."

"Couldn't fucking help it?" The leader asked incredulously. "Watch where you're going, asshole, or I'll have you shitcanned faster than crap through a goose. Got me?"

"Y-yes Captain BK-05/02/33." Stuttered the Sergeant.

Tarfang shook his head. He'd never really understand the Legionnaires. They hated the Empire more than anything in the galaxy, and yet they acted just like Stormtroopers. They even followed the silly practice of replacing their names with numbers. As though it were easier to call out a string of numbers in the heat of battle.

Then again, he'd never really understood the Stormtroopers to begin with. There were too many titles to keep track of. And the ranks themselves made no sense. There were even three different types of Colonels! Lieutenant Colonel, Colonel, and High Colonel. How was he supposed to know who was in charge of what with so many ranks? On Endor there had been the Chief and his warriors, and the warriors organized themselves sensibly; the most experienced was in charge of the less experienced. They hadn't needed much else.

His own title, Loot-Chief, had been a partial concession to his Imperial partners. They seemed to crave an over-complicated chain of command. The Ewoks were part of a bigger tribe now, and they had to show some respect to the bigger Imperial tribe and their ways, no matter how strange they might have been.

But they were still Ewoks, and they would continue to honor the ways of their ancestors. To be Loot-Chief was to be Ewok and Imperial.

He watched silently as the Legionnaires remained rooted to the spot for a few more minutes. They stared blankly off into space, searching in vain for the enemy. After a few minutes the leader gestured for them to resume their march.

As the Solars began to move Tarfang and Hael were joined by Rulesh and the fourth member of their band, Mereechi. Mereechi silently signed to his Loot-Chief that he and Rulesh had succeeded in their mission. Tarfang nodded. He had sent the two scouts to subtly direct a Legionnaire patrol in their direction. With fake animal calls and fallen debris, Mereechi and Rulesh had managed to divert the Solars a few kilometers away from their intended path, directly into the chokepoint they had established.

The Confederate patrol made its way through the underbrush. The grass and the vines and the shrubs were the children of the trees, and they sang their parents' song. With every movement the Confederates made noise. Bark creaked and broke. Leaves swished in the air. And Tarfang's war party followed, leaping adroitly from one branch to another, unseen and unheard.

Soon the patrol came to an obstacle. A great tree root, four and a half meters tall and nearly two kilometers long, stretched out in front of them. They hadn't the time or the patience to go around it, of that Tarfang was certain.

Directly in front of the root was a large mud pit. Rulesh grinned as he ran his finger ever so lightly against the durasteel tip of one of his arrows. It rained often in the forests of Anax. Tarfang's warriors had made sure to make a particularly large mud pit at this particular spot. The mud on this planet was thick and would hold even a Condor Dragon in place for a few moments before it could pull itself free.

They only needed a few moments.

The lead Legionnaire, the Captain, pointed to one of his troopers and then pointed at the top of the root. The Legionnaire slung its rifle over its back, made a running jump, and pulled itself to the top of the root. It swung its legs over the side, pulled out its rifle, and pointed it over the edge.

After a minute or two of surveying the area ahead, the Legionnaire gestured that the coast was clear, and then dropped down over the other side of the root and out of sight. One by one the Legionnaires ran and jumped at the root, climbed up to the top, and jumped over.

But one Legionnaire was not so lucky. He was the last one to go over the top. But as he jumped, he was unable to find a secure grip on the root. The Legionnaire fell into the mud pit.

"Motherfucker!" The Legionnaire bellowed. A chorus of laughter could be heard from the other side of the root. No doubt the clumsy Legionnaire's comrades had heard the splatter of mud.

"Hurry up, JX-02/21/37!" Yelled the Captain. "Don't be such a damn pussy!"

Tarfang pulled out his bow, took an arrow from the quiver on Rulesh's back, and nocked it. He aimed it at the hapless Legionnaire as he tried to pull himself from the mud. Legionnaire armor was impressive. He'd seen it deflect shrapnel and lighter blaster bolts. But its weight only made it more difficult to escape from the mud.

And armor did not make a warrior invincible.

As the Legionnaire strained to free himself, he craned his neck back, further exposing the body glove that all Legionnaires wore under their green armor. The black body glove was a sharp contrast to the browns of the mud and the root.

Tarfang took a breath, exhaled, and let go of the bowstring.

*Thwang*

*Thunk*

Tarfang's aim was straight and true, and the durasteel tipped arrow, a gift from his Imperial tribesmen, burrowed itself in the Legionnaire's neck. The durasteel tip sliced through the Legionnaire's jugular vein and spinal cord before emerging part way out the other side of the man's neck.

JX-02/21/37 fell back into the mud with a wet thump, blood gushing down over his body glove and staining his green armor.

Tarfang shouldered his bow and let out a triumphant "Yub Yub!"

Hael took out her horn and let loose a deep, loud blast that echoed through the forest. Mereechi and Rulesh laughed as they heard the Legionnaires' panicked response.

"Che Womok!" Tarfang cried out as he jumped away to another nearby branch, laughing all the while.

The sounds of slug fire erupted in the distance as the Ewoks ran away. But Tarfang wasn't concerned. The upper canopy was thick with leaves and strong branches. The Solars had never seen them from the ground. The warriors of the Special Forest Militia would return to their camp and the rest of their warriors, kilometers away, without ever touching the forest floor.

The trees had been very good to the Ewoks this day.

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CENN Gallipoli, on approach to Anax

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Lieutenant General Natasha Dragunova was eager to bring her Legion into battle. So far, Generals Lloyd and Falltower had screwed up Admiral Hollander's summer offensive against Judicar with their dawdling and mismanagement of the struggle on Anax.

General Lloyd had paid for the mistake with his life. Falltower seemed to be overwhelmed in his management of two reduced Legions cut off in the giant forests of what should have been the opening step of the last campaign against the hated Empire. To break the stalemate, created by the Imperial capture of Pride Rock, Admiral Hollander had done the only sensible thing imaginable; she sent in the 13th.

Dragunova had been an early supporter of President Harris, despite his rise in the old North American Union. She served through the chaotic times of the Earth-Empire War when the Russian Federation seemed to lose a Premier or President every other week. During that confusion, she had risen to the rank of Colonel-General in the elite Spetsnaz and taken part in the battles north of Shanghai that had nearly broken the back of China's People's Liberation Army. Afterwards, she quickly saw the power shifts occurring across Earth and donned the Confederate blue-gray. She underwent Legionnaire training in the North American Union under the legendary Sergeant Cortez of the Ares Mission and graduated in the first class of the Legionnaire Command School in Belgrade.

Missions and firefights came quickly in those years. Her Legionnaires were first sent to Arkansas and saw to the elimination of the rebellious Camp Little Rock. Soon given a Legion of her own she oversaw the eradication and depopulation of Spitzbergen, Kaui and Maui, and the recapture of Oslo. Based out of the new Fortress Malta she carried out strikes across Europe and Africa for the President and now defunct Confederate Senate.

Eventually realizing her Legion could be set above the rest, especially with the elitism of the first ten, she quickly set about to train the 13th in air assault techniques, with an eye to being the first Legion to eventually invade the traitorous New Zealand and execute its alien overlords. The Legionnaires of the 13th wore lighter armor and trained with lighter, and more mobile artillery and armor pieces. They did away with their tanks and embraced the AMP-5s just as they got rid of their heavy trucks and adopted the Iroquois attack helicopters and Bell V-280 vertical lift cargo helicopters. All of which the 13th Legion was forced to leave in giant warehouses on Ro-loo for the moment.

Helicopters couldn't be brought coreward until Pride Rock had fallen. There was simply no place to land them among the monstrous trees of Anax. That was alright with Dragunova. Her Legionnaires had undergone hundreds of paradrops and even had experience in HALO drops. Landing among a forest would be a new experience. There had been no forests or jungles left on Earth to train in after the last war.

The 8th and 34th had been landed in open areas on Anax but those were all firmly in the sights of Imperial gunners and bombers. The 13th Air Assault Legion were the last reinforcements the beleaguered Legionnaires could receive, unless the Confederate Army sent the 82nd and 101st Airborne Divisions, 106th Guards, or 15th Airborne Corps. But those were Army Divisions. Not the elite Legions. SOP was to use them up fighting the sudden uptick in protests and uprisings across Earth now that the better upper classes were departing that sick and withering world. The Legions were fine enough to conquer space. The Army had had its day and been found wanting by the Imperial Army twenty years ago. Better they were thrown into the ashes, Dragunova firmly believed. Mainly, because the President had personally told her so to her face before she had departed for MotherGarden; the first world to have fallen to the 13th back in January.

"Two minutes!" The corvette's loadmaster shouted back to the dozens of officers that made up Dragunova's headquarters. Several hundred Legionnaires stood up and clipped their ripcords to guide wires attached to the ceiling and leading to the Gallipoli's loading ramp. Dragunova was plagued with the same problem General Lloyd faced when he brought in the 8th Legion with transport capacity. They could either bring in men or equipment. As such, she was accompanying her best battalion, the 131st, spread among twelve Revenge corvettes.

Dragunova had met Captain Mallory on Kafrene Outpost after he had convinced Admiral Hollander of his masterful plan. She had known the Hero of the Ares from the years following the last war when the Rangers had toured around the world and convinced many of her Spetsnaz troopers, herself included, to join the Legions. She thought his idea of using quick Revenges to deliver supplies to Anax was the only method that made sense.

To her, the Anax System resembled the no-man's-land between the trenches of the Great War. The Confederacy sat in one trench in Kafrene Outpost, while the Empire guarded its own positions in the Judicar and Kuati Systems. Anax was the space in between, where no fleet dared to stay very long. The only way to accomplish anything was to do it quickly and get out of the area before the enemy could react. Revenge corvettes were, perhaps, the only ships quick enough to deliver her Legion and get out again.

"Passing over Reborn. One minute!" The Loadmaster shouted again. As he gave his warning the armored doors parted on the bottom of the corvette, revealing a great span of green passing below. The monumental forests of Anax; their new battleground.

General Dragunova stepped to the edge of the door. Two lights, one shining red and an unlit green one, stood at the ready next to the exit. She had undergone hundreds of jumps in her career and didn't need to be told when the time was right.

The corvette slowed to jump speed and levelled off at ten thousand meters. The great height of the trees below, several kilometers high from saplings to the great trunks of the older woods, reached up like fingers grasping at them. Captain Mallory's flagship led the twelve-ship formation. It was still early afternoon, as they needed to approach Anax during the daylight hours when Imperial sensors were confused. Dragunova anticipated a long night of gathering her Legionnaires together in assembly areas by the light of night-vision gear. She had been warned of a species of aliens on Anax that were proficient forest fighters, but paid the reports of Ewoks little heed.

The green light lit up the cargo bay. As the scores of Legionnaires ran for the exit, the loadmaster shouted, "Go! Go! Go!"

Dragunova was pitched into the cloudless blue sky. So blue it reminded her of the old Earth sky before the coming of the Empire. Her armor's sensors told her it was a pleasant twenty-six-degree day with a light breeze from the planet's southern hemisphere. Perfect conditions for a paradrop.

Her attention first fell on the forest below. Unlike her Legionnaires she wasn't over-encumbered by another hundred kilos of equipment and could move about in her harness quite easily as she descended. Falling into a combat zone, she expected some flak but no phaser bolts rose up to greet her Legionnaires. To the north she caught a glimpse of what must have been Pride Rock piercing a light haze on the horizon.

A great whine from overhead attracted her attention. Having delivered their charges, the corvettes were now picking up speed and heading for orbit. Once clear of Anax's gravity well they'd be free to make their way back to the relative safety of Kafrene Outpost. She wished they could have left their X-1s or perhaps brought along sacrificial F-55s to cover the air assault. Perhaps she would send the recommendation for the planned follow-up drops that would bring in the rest of her battalions in the coming days.

Dragunova glared as motion in the corvettes' wake caught her attention. The forms of dozens of TIE fighters took shape as they grew closer. They had been following the corvettes expecting to blast apart the hundreds of supply cannisters the Revenges normally dropped. Now they streaked towards a different sort of target-rich environment.

The Legion general squirmed as nimble Interceptors streaked into the scattered sticks of paratroopers. The chin cannons barked to life. Dragunova tried to free her Ipeg Epic A1 from its sling. As she did so, an Imperial drew a bead on her nearby second-in-command and blew out his back with a quick burst that also set afire the nylon chutes of her artillery Forward Observation team, sending four of the dozen Legionnaires plunging to forest below.

Struggling Legionnaires fired back with their BARs and E-1 phasers that they had somehow managed to free. But it was a pathetic display that did little to discourage the swirling TIE fighters. They circled and dived like sharks in a feeding frenzy and with every attack they eviscerated and blew apart dozens of helpless and dangling Legionnaires.

Legionnaires' warnings and screams filled her helmet's com-channels. A quick assessment of the slaughter correctly assumed that a fifth of her command would die before they ever reached the forest canopy. The presence of the TIEs must have startled the Revenges during the drop as the remainder of her command seemed much more scattered than they should have been.

The forest announced itself when her boots slammed into the first house-sized leaf. She had been watching the TIEs and failed to direct her chute during the violence-filled drop. She slid down the central-stem of the leaf and dropped off into the darkness of the woods.

Her gear and chute bounced and snagged off of telephone pole-sized twigs and leaves the size of swimming pools. She immediately lost sight of anyone in her command and she bounced from leaf to leaf as she dropped lower into the trees.

Suddenly, her downwards motion was abruptly stopped. Her shoulder wrenched from its socket causing her to grunt in pain. She was hanging upside down, with her chute lines ensnared in the branches above her. Dragunova could not see the ground and had no idea how far she was above the forest floor. The bark of a large branch was laid out beneath her face, suggesting that she had barely averted snapping her neck by slamming into the branch below her.

She had trained for just such a predicament. She could reach the combat knife tucked into her thigh holster and withdrew it. Taking a moment to study which lines she needed to cut, she could just barely make out the light of Anax Alpha flittering through the upper canopy.

A noise behind her caused her to freeze. The Russian officer slowly turned her head to come face to face with two furry creatures. They appeared like short bears. They were not animals, for they wore primitive hoods upon their heads and animal bone necklaces draped across their chests. One of them pointed an Imperial E-11 at Dragunova's face and barked some animalistic commands at her.

"Hell, if I'm going to be taken prisoner by an ET." Dragunova pulled herself up and started slashing wildly at the lines that bound her.

Her head snapped back as she was struck in the side of her head by the butt of the phaser. The sudden blow should have been expected but it startled her into dropping the knife which fell, tip first, into the bark below.

The alien that had pointed the blaster at her pulled her head backwards exposing her neck. In horror, she watched as the other creature picked up her knife and held it to her throat. The two aliens chittered at each other in their own language for several seconds. Finally, the first one appeared to convince the second one to perform its grisly task. With a plunging slash the alien drove the blade into her neck and sawed away for several seconds before removing the knife.

Dragunova watched as her blood dripped from her body and pooled across the wood below her. Her arms dangled downwards. She no longer had the strength to lift them.

The forest grew darker, until it finally faded to black.

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West Cliff Bunker System, shore of Dragonsnake Creek, Pride Rock

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"So, you really traveled seven baziliion light years and all they gave you was a hyperwave commset to lug around?" TX-0111 asked the bunker's visitor. He took a long drag on the skywalker cigarra the being had passed out.

The bunker was new. The permacrete was still damp in several corners, which wasn't helped along by the deep humidity that had settled into the Imperial fortifications. Far underground, beneath Pride Rock, they had environmental support that cooled down everything. Out here on the perimeter they made due with an overworked atmo-dampener. Long gone were the fox-holes they had fought the Battle of Dragonsnake Creek from. Two construction battalions were now stationed on Pride Rock, ever burrowing deeper into the base, and every day they pulled out more material to make into permacrete bunkers. The whole mountain was as heavily fortified as a Star Destroyer these days.

In the blasting port, between TX-0111 and TX-3488's E-WEBs, sat a small, civilian-model hyperwave belting out a BTS cover by some band out of H'nemthe Junction. The Stormtroopers liked listening to the afternoon show hosted by Palpatine Prime Penelope. Not only was she funny, she was their biggest fan and always played at least one song dedicated to the troopers of the 1st Legion. The enemy channels broadcast by CNN had their own version named Confederate Connie but she was about as fun to listen to as a bacta shot for lockjaw. The Earth stations were too concerned with class and anything too popular was deemed a product of their lower classes. Focused on partisan talking points, Confederate Connie sounded like an academy drill instructor and only played Confederate Ministry of Culture pre-approved music. Seemingly written by committee to appeal to a very small, but vocal, audience and packed with political slogans and themes, it all blended together into generic schlock. Troopers listened to music for fun, not to be lectured and harangued. To top it off, Connie couldn't help but reflect the xenophobic attitude of the CEN. Troopers didn't need to be called sentient-based alien insults between every song.

Speaking of aliens, the tall, hairy being in the bunker with them yipped out a response. The Stormtroopers looked to the alien's escort for a translation. The Wookiee carried a massive hyperwave encryption radio on his back and looked to the black and red-armored Purge Trooper who protected him. The elite trooper spoke for the Kazoookian. "He said, he didn't want to sit out the war building star ships on Nal Kuat. His clan are warriors, but he was a mathematician student at an academy on his home world. He wanted to pay the First Order back for what they did on Kazoook."

The Purge Trooper leaned forward and volunteered some information the Kazoookian hadn't said. "We've been together for a couple of months now. Bokwarro watched the First Order kill his brother when they landed on Kazoook. Couldn't volunteer fast enough when they accidently popped into the Empire. Now all he wants to do is get to the First Order's home base on Titan as fast as he can and burn it to its core."

"Well, we're glad to have you, especially if you bring us more of these." TX-5104 held up the cigarra.

Bokwarro nodded and barked a response. The Purge Trooper translated. "He said it's his pleasure. It's all over the Holonet what you guys did here to the First Order's pet Earthlings."

"And you're wizard about this?" TX-0111 asked, gesturing to the cigarra. Purge Troopers had a reputation for being uptight.

"I'm not the ISB. And Kazoook has some different laws about spice. Everyone is looking the other way since we've all got bigger fish to fry." The Purge Trooper shrugged.

TX-0111 was admiring the Wookiee's large bowcaster when TX-7615 butted in. "I don't get it. We've got plenty of our own hyperwave troopers. And they don't need a bodyguard. What's so great about you, Bokwarro?"

The Wookiee looked to his guardian for permission. The Purge Trooper just shrugged and let the Kazoookian answer. His answer was lengthy but in the end the Purge Trooper deciphered most of it. "We're part of a special detachment. Six teams consisting of a Wookiee and their guard. We stay just behind the front line and direct dirtside and orbital artillery support for you guys."

"Yeah, but we've already got troopers that can do that." TX-7615 argued.

"Sure, and the Solars can intercept their transmissions and use it against you. You've already caught them on your comm channels trying to imitate real Imperials. Somebody in Fleet Intel figured out the Earthlings can't make heads or tails of Shyriiwook. And if they do, we taught the teams we brought in a whole new code. Even other Kazoookians can't figure out what they're talking about." The Purge Trooper explained.

"So, you're here to stop the Earthers from capturing him and getting the code out of him?" TX-0111 asked the guardian.

"I'm here to protect the code." The Purge Trooper rested his hand on his holstered DC-15LE. Bokwarro looked nervously at his protector.

TX-0111 was about to ask the Purge Trooper just what he meant by that when the gathering was interrupted by the appearance of their sergeant, CM-1072. The Zeltron NCO ignored the towering wookiee and his body guard. "Troopers, gather your gear. Besh Company is taking over these positions."

The troopers started to get to their feet and gather their belongings. Sergeant Jonat Blue garnered even more respect from the troopers than an elite Purge Trooper. TX-0111 still couldn't help but ask, "Where we going, Sarge?"

"They better have a pool and bar service. I had a massage scheduled for 1500." TX-5104 joked.

"Stow it, you sleemos." CM-1072 barked. "HQ is shifting us down the line for a little R&R. We'll move out after nightfall so we don't draw any attention from Solar snoops."

"They shifting us to the other cliff side? Confeds are likely to hit us over there after we stomped them here. Not my idea of a vacation." TX-3488 pointed out. TX-0111 agreed with her.

"Leave that for General Galveson to worry about. As for us, they're shifting us to the safest spot in the line." CM-1072 said.

"Oh, yeah? Where's that?"

"The Slope."

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The Slope, Pride Rock

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Baobab Antilles studied the subtle changes in the forest with a growing sadness. Her husband had brought the original wroshyr acorns to the ultra-fertile soil of Anax over twenty years ago. Together they had watched the forests spread, ironically, like wildfire across the globe. Massive trunks rocketed into the sky growing almost as fast as their family, five sons and finally a daughter.

Now their forest was facing an infestation. One that had driven them out of their settlement in Reborn, forced their younglings coreward to Imperial refugee centers, trapped her husband behind enemy lines and sent Baobab and a handful of stubborn ex-stormtroopers into that very forest to fight tooth and nail for every tree, root and twig.

Now, two months after starting her harassment campaign against the invaders, she had been called to report to the headquarters of General Galveson atop Pride Rock. Baobab scowled at the moniker. Pride Rock had been nothing more than one of the foothills of the northern mountain range on Anax's lone continent. There were much taller mountains even further north, many of which had never been scaled, but this particular peak had a flattened plateau that rose above the forest and had been seen as the perfect location for a large airbase. The Confederates had hoped to use that airbase to bomb Judicar which was next in line along the Bloodstripe Run. If they took Judicar they would effectively cut off Nal Kuat and the Imperial Navy would wither on the vine.

They had come here and named the mountain Pride Rock in reference to an animated holodrama about animals on their homeworld. Baobab's Planetary Watchers liked to joke about Confederate pride after they had lured the 34th Legion off the mountain, allowing its rather easy capture by the newly formed Imperial 1st Legion. The Confederate Legions had faced nothing but embarrassment since then.

Loot-Chief Tarfang was at the lead of their party and raised his blaster to warn the party to stop. Ex-Stormtroopers and Ewoks alike quickly hid themselves in the underbrush while the scouts determined what lay ahead. Tarfang barked several times. The response to his inquiry came seconds later. "Advance and be recognized."

Baobab could just barely make out the edges of an observation post buried under several layers of fallen wroshyr leaves. She stood up and advanced with her hands out to show she meant no harm. "We are from the Planetary Watchers. I am FN-5839, retired." Her declaration of retirement got a few chuckles from her chief sniper, EZ-6758. "We are expected."

"You are indeed, Major Antilles. Come forth and be recognized." the voice of an Imperial officer called to them.

Baobab did just that. She didn't know what to make of the brevet rank the Imperial military had slipped on her. One of the last messages she had received from Mars said that her husband had been granted the rank of Colonel. "We're here to consult with your CO."

"The General is expecting you. He's sent transport for your command group." An officer in Stormtrooper armor stepped forward. Unlike the armor she had worn twenty years earlier, this one and the ones of his men, were painted in a green and brown camouflage pattern. "The rest of your party may enter our lines. We've got rations laid on for them."

"What we really need is a sonic." HF-3105 piped up. Thad had been the best friend of her husband and now served as her second-in-command.

"About all we can offer is cold showers. Most of our power converters go to powering our defenses." The officer explained.

"Can't spare a measly Gonk." Thad mumbled.

Baobab shot him a glare and then faced the officer. "That will be wizard, Lieutenant. Lead the way."

In the end Thad didn't go directly to the showers to get cleaned up. Along with Tarfang, EZ-6758 and herself they were directed to an awaiting Imperial Troop Transport that sat at the bottom of the great slope that meandered up one side of Pride Rock. They entered the ITT and began the slow journey to its peak.

The slope itself could be walked comfortably by a trooper. The other three sides of the mountain were marked with large, boulder-strewn cliffs. A single roadway now switched back and forth down its length to the forest floor. Instead of the permacrete bunkers along the cliff-faces, here the Imperial construction battalions had dug kilometers of trenches along the roadway giving the gentle flat slope a rigged appearance from afar. Stormtroopers peered up at the ITT as it went past their fortifications. The grass and shrubs of Pride Rock had been removed and the ground burned black by the daily bombings from Kafrene Outpost. But those attacks looked to have not weakened the Imperial defenses in the slightest once Baobab got a close look at them.

A trio of AT-STs strolled past the ITT heading in the opposite direction. EZ-67 pointed them out. "Good to see some of our own walkers again. Got sick of seeing those kriffing AMPs the abos use stomping through our woods. You got any AT-ATs here?"

"We had four. Had to keep them up top. Three have been destroyed in bombing attacks. The fourth has been removed to an underground hangar." The officer explained.

"Should have never brought them to Anax. They'll get tangled up in the undergrowth once you start retaking the forest." Thad said. Baobab and her command staff had hoped that that was the reason Galveson had called her out of the forest today. To plan the reconquest of Anax.

General Galveson met them at the top of the mountain. His own command staff was drawn up in formation. Baobab was humbled to receive the salutes and gratitude of dozens of officers with higher ranks than her own. Tarfang was an instant hit and Galveson seemed to be in a state of glee with everything the short Ewok had to say. A reception was laid out of rice and blue mac n cheese. Galveson had to apologize as it was nearly all the food his Legion was receiving at the moment. Baobab didn't want to tell him that she ate better in the forest with what her Ewoks hunted and killed.

Galveson offered to give her a tour, which Baobab took as wanting to talk. Tarfang was allowed to accompany her, and Galveson insisted on bringing Air Marshall Roblin along for the discussion. Baobab was so flabbergasted by the presence of the Empress's husband that she nearly curtsied. For his part Roblin laughed and performed a rather flamboyant bow in her honor.

The discussion went much as Baobab thought it would. She confirmed that the 13th Legion had indeed been airdropped and reinforced the reduced 34th and 8th Legions. General Falltower was in overall command after the deaths of Generals Lloyd and Dragunova. His forces rarely came within artillery range of Pride Rock but they did have the entire mountain surrounded at this point. The enemy had lost almost all their vehicles except for a unit of heavy AMP-5s and appeared to be bringing in more MLRS missile systems. General Galveson believed they had mapped the location of the trees around Pride Rock and could now fire their rockets from safety well into the forest.

His orders for the Planetary Watchers were simple enough. They were to continue intelligence gathering but to focus their harassment campaign on the three enemy Legions' supply network, especially their food supplies. Multiple intelligence sources had shown the Legionnaires were down to one meal a day. Baobab agreed with the orders. They actually kept her troopers safer than direct confrontation. Tarfang added that his Ewoks were driving all animal game far away from the Confederate lines and intercepted and destroyed three-quarters of the supply barrels the Space Force dropped before the Legionnaires could retrieve them.

Another officer approached and whispered something in General Galveson's ear. He smiled and told Baobab. "It appears our last guest is arriving. If you would accompany me back to my command bunker."

Baobab had no idea how to refuse a request from a General so she did just that. Once there she was asked to form a small line with Tarfang, Handsome Jack and Thad and then called to attention. An entire company of Scout Troopers in their forest-colored armor appeared and took up a formation behind them.

Above them came the whine of an SFS-204 sublight engine. Baobab turned her head up in time to see the approach of a Lambda T-4 shuttle turning for a landing. A pair of escorting TIE Interceptors flew away to circle overhead. Thad whispered next to her as the Lambda came in for a landing in front of them. "Who the fierfek is this now?"

The landing ramp lowered from the rear of the shuttle. A pair of Naval Troopers descended the ramp. Baobab could tell by the crisp cleanliness of their uniforms that they came from somewhere far away from Anax. Galveson and Roblin snapped salutes as a figure emerged from the space craft. Baobab sucked in a breath as she recognized him.

Fleet Admiral Gentis looked at the gathered troops and the small party before him with a warm smile. He exchanged salutes with the base commanders and then was directed over to the four members of the Planetary Watch. He came before EZ-6758 first. He shook the sniper's hand and produced a Medal of Order. "For service above and beyond. Forgive me but you are Handsome Jack, the Wraith of Las Vegas, are you not?"

"That's what I heard the abos called me." EZ-6758 admitted.

"I bet it was the last thing they ever did. I haven't heard them called abos in while. Youngsters today slur them as Solars." The Fleet Admiral patted EZ-6758 on the shoulder.

"Youth is wasted on the young, sir."

"Indeed, it is." Gentis agreed.

He stepped to Thad next with another Medal of Order. "If I had to guess, trooper, I'd say you saw service in our last dust up with the Earthlings."

"Uh . . ." HF-3105 stuttered. His eyes rolled back and he suddenly fell forward. Gentis caught him and lowered him to the ground. Medics rushed forward and revived him.

Slowly awakening, Thad looked up in shame. "I'm sorry everyone. I've never met a Fleet Admiral before. I didn't think they were real."

The gathered officers laughed as Thad was helped back to his feet. Gentis patted him on the shoulder and awarded him his medal.

The Fleet Admiral came next to Tarfang. He produced a Medal of the Empress's Will. "Loot-Chief Tarfang, when I sent your unit here it was for reconnaissance and to see if you could protect the Planetary Watchers. You have far exceeded my mandate. You and your tribe-mates have served your Empress proudly. Exceptional work, Cap-Chief."

"Cap-Chief!" Tarfang barked about his promotion. His basic was rough on the Ewok tongue. "We serve the Great Chieftess Phasma and the Old Gods of the forest. Thank you, Fleet-Chief Gentis."

To everyone's surprise, Tarfang stepped forward and hugged Gentis's leg. The look of shock on the surrounding officers caused Baobab to chuckle. Gentis for his part laughed and hugged Tarfang back.

Gentis finally arrived before Baobab. In his hand he carried the Medal of Imperial Honor. "Major Antilles, your leadership has been exemplary. If not for you and your command I fear this position would have already been lost to the enemy."

"I do not need medals, sir. I do this to protect my family and our home." Baobab declared. Murmurs rose through the ranks.

"And the Empress and the Senate thank you for it. As do I. Tell me where is your family?" The Fleet Admiral asked. Baobab was still having trouble believing he was actually here. The Confederates would never send their top commander to Anax.

"I am all that remains on Anax. My five youngest younglings were evacuated coreward and are safe as long as we hold here."

"As I intend to do." Gentis assured her. "Any others?"

"My eldest boy was evacuated from Mars along with Moff Hinter. He's in Flight Academy on Gort right now." Baobab said.

"Wait, this sounds vaguely familiar." Gentis interrupted. "Major, are you related to Colonel Antilles on Mars?"

"I was his wife. We've had no word since last spring."

"My Lady, Colonel Antilles is alive and well according to my latest intelligence from the occupied territories. In fact, I understand he's growing the Martian resistance as we speak. It would appear as if your family is fighting our enemies from both ends." Gentis again handed her the award. 'Please take this on behalf of your loved ones. Your family has earned it."

"I will, Admiral, But I would still rather have my family reunited." Baobab allowed him to pin the medal to her shirt.

"As would I, Major. Believe me, I'm going to do everything in my power to get your husband back to you again."

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Eiffel-class Heavy Cruiser Taj Mahal, Kafrene Outpost Orbital Anchorage

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The Admiral needed a break. It had taken three weeks for his convoy to make the long trip from the Venus Hypermatter Refinery to the furthest reaches of the Confederacy. Well, the furthest if one didn't count the three Legions on Anax, but that was a matter of some contention these days.

His own flag ship was another Eiffel, the Burj Khalifa, which was anchored nearby. He had been ordered to report to his boss Admiral Hollander here, aboard her forward flagship, the Taj Mahal, and report on the progress of his convoy.

It had been an uneventful trip. They had several false reports of cloaked Imperial stealth ships along Confederate Hyperspace Route 1, which had delayed the fuelers and Magnificent transports of his convoy for several days. Thankfully each report had turned out to be a false alarm. Perhaps the presence of his heavy escorts had deterred them from launching attacks on his ships. He didn't know for sure. What he did know was that it ate up a lot of 2nd Fleet fuel to supply fuel to the advance forces in 1st Fleet.

The Taj Mahal, in addition to being one of the finest command ships in Space Force, also contained a flag-level officer's cantina with a five-star kitchen imported directly from Space Force Command back in Sydney. If you had traveled this far along the Bloodstripe Run, it was not to be missed. The executive mess was crowded with various high ranks of the Confederate military. The Admiral sneered at several Generals at a large table who were busy devouring T-bones while their Legions froze down below underneath the icy surface of Kafrene Outpost.

The Admiral stepped up to the bar and drew the attention of the bartender. "Suntory, neat."

"Yes, sir! Right away sir." Replied the bartender as he scrambled to get the flag officer a drink. The Admiral grimaced at the younger man's overeager zealousness. The bartender was a Guardian steward. A third classer. As he glanced around the cantina the Admiral took note of the only third classers allowed in the cantina. Busboys, waiters, cooks, they scuttled about like crabs in a bucket, crawling over each other in a desperate attempt to be on top, the same rigid, eager to serve smiles carved into their faces.

The Admiral felt an involuntary shiver go down his spine as he glanced at those frozen smiles and soul crushing dead eyes. They'd all been fed the same bullshit over the years. They believed they could improve their lot in life by bowing and scraping to their political and social betters and conforming to their ideology. The Admiral understood the sentiment, to a degree. He was convinced that hard work had always been the only way of achieving anything in life. But that work had to produce results to be of any use. In the Confederacy, despite their efforts, most third classers ended up a day late and a dollar short.

The bartender quickly returned with the Admiral's order. The Admiral pulled a Confederate $20 bill, Jonathan Harris's face plastered on it, out of his wallet and slipped it over to the young man. The bartender glanced down at the money, his mouth fell open, his eyes shifting nervously from the Admiral to the money. Third classers usually didn't get tips.

"Oh sir, I couldn't possibly..."

"Just take the money, Guardian." Said the Admiral quietly. He glanced over to a nearby table. A young waitress was apologizing profusely to one of the officers at the table with the T-bone steaks. What for, he didn't know. Everything looked in order to him. But first classers loved to find things to complain about. He should know, he was one of them.

"How long you been in the service, Guardian?" The Admiral asked.

The bartender glanced around nervously to see if anyone else needed his services. Officers didn't usually fraternize with the lower classes. And if he was caught slacking it would impact his chances of promotion.

"Uh, just a little under a year, sir." The bartender said. "I, uh, was looking to prove my worth to the President."

The Admiral took a sip of his drink and looked the bartender over. "Where you from?"

The bartender clasped his hands together nervously, his eyes flickering around the room. He'd probably never had a real conversation with someone outside of his own class, aside from being given orders. "Uh, Naryn, sir. In the Russian Confederation."

"Naryn?" The Admiral asked. "That used to be in Kyrgyzstan, right?" There were a lot of 3rd classers in Russian annexed central Asia.

The bartender shrugged and nodded. "If you say so, sir. I'm afraid history was never a strong suit of mine. Ever since I was a kid, we were part of Russia. Not, of course, that any of those things matter anymore. We're all members of the true human Confederate movement now, and glad of it."

"Yes, we're all one big happy family now." The Admiral murmured, unable to keep the sarcasm from his tone. If the bartender noticed, however, he said nothing.

"What are you hoping to get out of the service, son?"

"I hope to build up the Confederacy and subdue the alien hordes, sir!" The bartender repeated a banal line of propaganda from the Ministry of Culture. "Duty and service is its own reward!

"Yes." The Admiral noted, frowning. "I imagine it is."

"Although..." The bartender stopped, glancing down at his feet.

"Go on." The Admiral prodded, gesturing for the young man to continue.

"Well...I'd really like to graduate to the 2nd class." Admitted the bartender. He glanced up, his former eagerness returning. "I'm attending all of the proper ideological workshops when I have the time, and I'm taking all of the correspondent classes on political orthodoxy as well! I listen to the podcasts too."

"That must cost a pretty penny." The Admiral said. After the class system had been established and the population assigned to their new castes, those hoping to ascend to a new class had to pay for expensive additional education designed to mold them into loyal, unquestioning supporters of the Confederate cause. Political orthodoxy was often a deciding role in most promotions. Most dropped out after going bankrupt.

"It'll all be worth it, sir, when..." The bartender trailed off again.

"When what?" Asked the Admiral.

"When I'm a second classer, I'll be able to buy my own house." Said the bartender. "Not that the government provided shelters aren't nice. They are sir, they really are! But it'll be nice to be able to not live in an apartment with another family on top of your own. It'll be nice to have my own place. And I'll be able to use all the hot and clean water I can afford. Imagine that, no more waiting at the pump for me! And I'll have all the electricity I can afford as well. No more blackouts for me. And I won't have to pay rent to the Ministry of Housing. Maybe I could use that money to go shopping. To shop at a real store, and not get food from a dingy old distribution center. My mom used to talk about how anyone could go to stores in the old days and get as much food as they wanted if they had the money. And they didn't even need ration cards. Is it true that second classers don't need ration cards, Sir?"

"Yeah...yeah, that's true." The Admiral's heart ached. "That's a mighty fine dream, son." He didn't have the heart to tell him how low his hopes were set. Nor did he tell him his chances of joining the second class, let alone the first, were slim to the point of nonexistence. The first and second poached selectively from the third. He could try all he wanted. The system was rigged to keep him in his place.

The Admiral looked away, unable to continue the conversation, and spotted an interesting figure sitting alone at a table next to the forward porthole. The Admiral stopped the bartender. "Leave me the bottle."

He took the bottle as well as a pair of snifters and made his way across the crowded restaurant. Guardian waiters and bus boys cleared a path. But on the Taj Mahal, his exalted rank was one of dozens and the officers at the various tables hardly took notice of his passing. He came to a stop next to the man he had spotted, who took no notice of the Admiral's presence. Perhaps he had been lost in watching the maneuvering of scores of warships in orbit around Kafrene Outpost or the passage of one of the planet's hundreds of moons.

"We're a long way from the Ares, Captain Mallory."

The man looked up, recognizing who had spoken to him. Mallory started to rise, but the Admiral waved him to sit. Mallory motioned for him to take the seat across from him. The Admiral held up the bottle of Suntory and the empty glasses. Mallory nodded for him to proceed. "Not far enough for me, Admiral Jones. Did you just arrive?"

Admiral Bowie Jones, the man who had flown a young Mallory and his squad to the Ares aboard the original Revenge corvette, nodded. "Aye, you might have heard, but I'm with the 2nd Fleet now. Not as glorious as the 1st but just as perilous."

"The cloaked ships have been seen out here as well. There's probably a pair of them or so in this very system, acting as the Empress's eyes." Mallory said. "As far as I know we've yet to sink one of the cowards. We tried dropping some seismic stealth mines into the Anax during the recent fighting under Jethran, but no one has spotted any wreckage yet."

"I wish we knew about them before the war. My recent convoy has brought up the weekly supplies for the Legions waiting for advance here in Kafrene, but they've started hitting the colonization convoys all along the route back home. Even as far rimward as MotherGarden and New Ryloth now."

"Fuck." Mallory said, then smiled. "How long has it been, sir?"

"Vengeance Day, back in '46 in Tel Aviv. Before that trouble you raised at the Empress's wedding." Bowie said. Mallory's eyes grew distant and a faint smile rose on his lips as if a pleasant memory was journeying through his mind. "They still trotted us 'Heroes of the Ares' out to beat the drum for the rise of the Confederacy back then. Harris doesn't need us for that anymore." Jones waved his hands at all the loyal officers dining around them.

"Heroes of the Ares, bah. Harris's Mercury Accords just bought us another twenty years." Mallory sounded bitter. Jones sighed. Bowie imagined that Mal had hoped for an end to war in their lifetime. The President had had other plans though, and they were left paying Harris's tab.

"Long enough for you to rise to command a Revenge of your own. I've heard you've got a flotilla of your own now, the 22nd." Bowie recalled.

"Aye. We've seen service at Azure Moon and Rimward Anax."

"I've heard you're the one who came up with this new Earth Express tactic." Bowie pointed out.

"We're still working out the details. We somehow managed to get the 13th Legion dropped onto Anax, but I'm afraid we haven't been able to figure out how to keep three Legions from starving before we retake Pride Rock. We've attempted low to high altitude drops, big drops and little ones but the Imperials still seize most of them. Or their TIEs shoot them from the sky."

"Terrible. Hollander didn't disclose any of that in my meeting with her. She's still spouting on about how Anax is but a minor hold up and that we will be in Judicar by Halloween." Bowie said.

"It's September now. What does she think we can do, send in the Rangers and take all of Pride Rock?" Mallory sipped his whiskey.

"That might have been a one trick pony. I'm surprised this Fleet Admiral of theirs hasn't brought in the Ares. She's bigger than our Eiffels that's for sure."

"I think he's playing some kind of chess match with the First Order. They've got those two big bastards of their own that might be able to take the Ares down." Mallory said.

"Any idea where she's at? Perhaps I can fly you there in your Ragnarok and we can do it again just like when we were young."

"We've seen her a couple of times. Most likely in the Kuati System within striking distance of their main base at Nal Kuat, if I had to guess. There's one issue with your plan." Mallory hinted.

"Oh, do tell."

"There's not many of us left from the old Ares Raid. Less every day."

Bowie swirled his drink his glass. He heaved a deep sigh and took a drink. "You're still torn up over Indy?"

"I haven't really had much time to think about it." Mallory gestured out the porthole. "This is the first real moment of peace and quiet I've been able to get since Rimward Anax. I haven't been able to..."

"To properly mourn him." Bowie interrupted.

"Yeah." Mal said flatly. He glanced again out the porthole. Outside in the void the Hellsing drifted past on patrol. "I'm really sorry for your loss, Admiral."

"Bowie. For now, just call me Bowie."

"Fair enough." Mallory said, staring over Bowie's shoulder. Bowie turned and saw that he was staring at the waitress, who was still at the officer's table, being harangued by one of the general officers, who grabbed the steak from his plate and threw it to her feet.

"Is this what we fucking fought for?" Mal asked darkly.

Bowie turned back, but glanced around before answering. The restaurant was loud, loud enough for their conversation to go unnoticed. But first classers weren't immune from observation by agents of the CIA. They were under less suspicion than the politically unreliable third and fourth classes, but only Harris was beneath all suspicion.

"Damn swine." Bowie muttered. "The true believers never pass up an opportunity to ridicule anyone. You either agree with everything they say and think, or you're worse than the Imps."

Mallory grunted before taking a sip of his drink. "We're no better."

"What do you mean?" Bowie asked.

"You and me are both first classers too." Mallory said. "We may not act like spoiled snobs like them, but we helped Harris build this whole damn class system. We paraded the flag, let ourselves be made into heroes, and they sold all of this bullshit with our faces coated on it."

"Things haven't worked out quite the way they were promised." Bowie admitted. "The class system was supposed to reward the strong and the smart. Make mankind better. But instead, the first two classes have become echo chambers for Harris's biggest sycophants."

"And we do the fighting and the dying so their privileged little bubble of a world isn't pierced by reality." Mallory said. He leaned back in his chair and glanced up at the bulkhead.

"The first war felt right." Mallory said. "We were saving the world from alien despots. Protecting our homes, protecting our families. It made sense. I think about some of the guys I lost in that war. Wilhelm, Armstrong, Nguyen. Even my brother Cale. And it hurt. It hurt watching my fellow soldiers die. It hurt enduring all the crap the Empire threw our way. But it was sort of worth it because we were protecting our way of life."

"It doesn't feel that way with Indy, does it?" Bowie asked.

"No, it doesn't." Mallory answered. "In fact, it feels like an utter waste. Jones was my friend. I know he was your real brother, but he was like a brother to me too."

"He always spoke highly of you." Bowie said. "He thought the world of you and the rest of the Rangers."

"I keep thinking about the last time we spoke to each other." Mallory confessed.

Bowie straightened in his seat. He had spoken with his brother after he had joined the exchange program with the First Order, and had been taken aback by the transformation in his personality. The Admiral leaned forward, his elbows on the table.

"Did he seem...off, to you?" Bowie asked softly.

Mallory jolted slightly before nodding. "He felt like a different person. Haughty, cold..."

"Talking about how awesome the First Order was." Bowie finished.

"Yeah."

The two men stared at one another.

"What Earthling would sing the First Order's praises? Outside of the stuffed suits on CNN? Indy certainly wouldn't do anything like that." asked Bowie.

"Maybe he thought the comms were being monitored." Mallory suggested. His tone made it clear to Bowie that he didn't believe that for a second.

"You don't suppose...they did something to him." Bowie ventured.

Mallory looked away, lost in thought. His lips curled into a snarl as his face darkened.

"Who knows what sort of alien brainwashing machines the First Order has tucked away on those ships of theirs." Mallory speculated. "I heard a rumor that their Supreme Leader was some alien with mind control powers, which just shows how worthless all that 'true humanity rules, aliens and false humans suck' drivel is since she's our ally. There's a lot about our so-called allies we don't really know."

"We know they're a bunch of arrogant bastards." Bowie surmised.

"And they don't give a damn if good Earth men and women die." Mallory growled. "No one cares on our side either. Great men are thrown into a wood chipper to satisfy the ambitions and fragile egos of politicians and influencers. Sometimes I think some of these political types would burn down the entire galaxy just to reforge it the way they think it ought to be and drag us all down with them."

Bowie knew of one particular politician Mallory was alluding to, and cut in before Mallory could say their President's name out loud.

"Keep a lid on it, Mal." Bowie warned. "I feel the exact same way, but even Heroes of the Confederacy aren't immune from censure by the authorities."

Mallory suddenly chuckled. "First classers are all supposed to be equal to one another. But even amongst the first class, it seems some animals are more equal than others. They venerate you until you disagree with them, and then you're lower than dirt. It's crazy. You can't win a war by adhering to group-think."

Bowie downed the rest of his drink before refilling his glass. He couldn't agree more with Mallory's verdict.

"So, what now?" Bowie asked.

"Now," Mallory said as he refilled his own glass. "Now we raise a toast to our departed brother. We remember him at his best, and we work to end this war as soon as possible so more good men like Indy Jones aren't lost."

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1st Legion Command Bunker, Pride Rock

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The mountain shook slightly under the surprise bombardment. Sending dust and debris dribbling from the ceiling and scattering across the General's desk. The Legions surrounding the Imperial base liked to sneak rocket batteries near to the base and fire them off at night. Sometimes, they would engage in artillery duels with his far superior batteries atop the plateau.

His troopers rarely lost those. Their pieces were better maintained, protected, organized and supplied. The enemy Earthlings rarely managed more than a nuisance attack. Which didn't mean they weren't saving up their big blasters for something important. Galveson worried that he hadn't done enough to prevent them from retaking the base and wiping out his Legion. Sometimes he wondered if anyone back at the Rhombus had the same fears.

"You're not exactly the sort of reinforcements I requested." Galveson stared at the Colonel from the Imperial Department of Military Research in disappointment.

"My troopers are not designed to be one-for-one replacements of Stormtroopers." Colonel Mohc replied. He had the look of one who spent most of his life in a cybernetics lab, except for a large scar and eye patch on the left side of his face. A gift from the Earthlings when Mohc had found himself trapped in Las Vegas during the Empire-Earth War two decades ago.

"I'm fully aware of that. I served as a Lieutenant in the 203rd Division during the Clone Wars. We destroyed ten clankers for every clone we lost. I was in China during the last dust up and I never saw your Dark Troopers make much of a difference in the end." Galveson expressed his low opinion to the droid expert.

"We've come a long way since the L8-L9 and Z-X3 Projects. What the Earthers called 'Iron Giants'. As to their usefulness, well Vegas never did quite fall before the war was over. Perhaps you should ask some of your current officers who served there." Mohc retorted.

"Indeed. I've seen the units you've unloaded. Much smaller than the ones we used last time. Are they based on Holowan designs?"

"Holowan had a hand in the schematics but everything that went into them was produced at Fleet Admiral Gentis's Naval Factory 2 on Nal Kuat and under ownership of the Empress." Mohc revealed.

"Assassin droids as a new type of marine. He hinted as much during his recent tour here a few days ago. My friends in the Navy said the KS-series droids have been stellar as sailors and freed up thousands for service elsewhere." Galveson begrudgingly admitted.

"Friends in the Navy? Ah, like Admiral Lokaros I presume." Mohc suggested. "It was quite a feat to get him to release escorts for the transport I arrived on. He seemed unenthusiastic about sending his ships here."

"Lokaros is a frustrating reality of serving here on Anax. A word of warning, don't count on the Navy to be our saviors."

"Which is why this planet provides the perfect opportunity to field test my units." A boom, followed by more shaking emphasized his statement. The enemy was really trying to let them have it tonight.

"I would be lying if I didn't say I would have preferred a battalion from the 2nd Legion, but them and the 3rd won't be ready for the field until after Empress Fete Week." Galveson said.

"That's five months standard from now. I've spoken with Admiral Banjeer. He's told me he's been promised those troopers for campaigns beyond Anax." Mohc gossiped.

"Aye. We're tasked with not only defending this place but somehow liberating the entire planet before the Empire can focus on capturing the bigger nut at Kafrene Outpost."

"Which is exactly why you need my unit, sir."

"How many of them are there?" Galveson didn't have high hopes. They had arrived aboard an Imperial Super Hauler which had mostly been filled with replacement equipment and parts for his construction battalion.

"Fifty units sir."

"Fifty! That's not even a company."

"I swear, they're better than a regiment, sir. You need to see them in action." Mohc promised.

"These are the first reinforcements I've gotten, despite daily requests back to the Rhombus, and they send me fifty droids?"

"General, I promise you they can handle whatever the Earthers throw at them."

"I've evacuated over six hundred casualties coreward for medical care since we took this place. Fifty droids cannot make up for the arithmetic of simple attrition, Colonel."

"I think your bias from your previous service is clouding your judgement, sir."

Galveson glared at the officer. He was probably angrier at the stylus pushers back on Palpatine Prime but Mohc was in front of him at the moment. "Colonel Mohc, you are here now. So, I will utilize you in the best manner I see fit. But I cannot assign a unit of fifty droids anywhere of vital importance to my defenses. Perhaps I can split them up among some of my forward companies as support staff."

"Sir, please do not make us stevedores. You have Loadlifters for such duties. We have programmed them to work as a unit, and besides Fleet Admiral Gentis's eyes are upon this project. He's the one who commissioned the three Naval Factory projects following the Nal Kuat Raid. He's most interested in seeing them perform." Mohc nearly begged.

"Fine, I will keep them together. I'm going to post you to the Slope. That's the long-angled plain that runs down the back spine of the mountain. The enemy has hit us all along the cliff sides of Pride Rock so I've been using that location to rotate troops through that have been in the thick of it."

"I saw it from the air when we were coming in. Lots of trenches, but an angled roadway that leads directly to the plateau up here." Mohc grasped the situation. "Which leads to the entrances of your underground facilities and TIE hangars."

"Precisely, though I don't expect them to make a serious run at the Slope. They haven't shown much interest in it so far." Galveson assumed. "You'll be behind some of the troopers that fought at Dragon Snake Creek. Good lads. Just keep out of their way."

"I'd prefer offensive operations out into the forest, sir. But I can see that your command isn't quite there yet. Is it true the enemy has landed a third Legion against us?"

"Aye. The 13th Air Assault. We chopped it up pretty good coming in, but it's out there."

"Well, they haven't met my droids yet."

"Force preserve us. Why couldn't they have just sent me a dozen AT-ATs?" Galveson shook his head. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the Colonel to unpack and deploy his droids. Sensing his dismissal Mohc rose and went for the door of the General's underground office. He would have left if not for Galveson's curiosity rising at the last second. "Oh, colonel, what were the droids' models again?"

Mohc turned with a hungry and militaristic grin. "They're IG-series, sir. Real killers."

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Quasar Fire II, Might, Night side of Anax

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The Might had returned alone to the Anax System, along with three Raider corvettes that escorted the hybrid TIE carrier. They had come on a rapid mission from Judicar to deliver replacement TIE/sa bombers to Pride Rock along with a replenishment of energy bombs and proton torpedoes for the besieged Imperial base.

Captain Raiken stood on the bridge of the hybrid carrier. Her eyes were drawn to the moon of Azure where the wreckage of several old Venators could be seen adrift following their destruction last month. A warning to all in the Imperial Navy that Anax would be a hard-fought victory.

Her first command, the Might, had started its life in the great drive yards of KDY at Kuat, now lost back in the Home Galaxy after the 'big jump'. One of the Kuati Destroyers of Moff Kuat's 3rd Kuati Fleet, it had seen service as a bombardment ship during the Empire-Earth War, primarily over Oceania and Africa. Slated for even larger turbolasers as part of the planned Bombardment Squadron 1 it had been caught at Nal Kuat during the devastating raid that had been launched by the unknown First Order. Gutted, it had been redesigned and rebuilt with an eye to the new air war centered around snub-nose fighters. The victory at New Thyfeeria had hopefully proven that this was the right decision, made by Fleet Admiral Gentis.

Admiral Lokaros had been outmaneuvered by the First Order Admiral Jethran and forced out of the Anax System. Neither side kept any sizable naval forces in the system at the moment. It was up to the Imperial Navy to supply the 1st Legion. Captain Raiken had waited until the daily bombings from Kafrene Outpost had concluded before leading her relief mission. Admiral Lokaros had given her no more than three escorts; Waylay, Condemner and Rebuker to protect the Empire's momentarily sole Quasar Fire. The plan was to drop off the TIEs, retrieve her pilots by shuttle and be gone by morning.

Simple.

Captain Raiken was turning the Might out of Anax's high orbit as the last shuttle returned with the pilots from the TIE delivery. She was making two hundred knots, when the collision klaxons went off in the bridge's crew pit. Subspace Radar Control and Helm Control officers both shouted at the same time. "Mines!"

Raiken sprinted the width of the bridge from starboard to port in what seemed like three steps, her Bridge Commander hot on her heels. There was nothing she could have done.

Void-7 Seismic bombs, given to Space Force by the First Order's 7th Fleet of Conquest, tripled and then quadrupled in size and wrapped in sensor-jamming stealth material. They could, however, be seen with the naked eye, but by then it was too late.

Raiken spotted a group of ten mines drifting in through the ship's energy shield. The Might absorbed seven of them, producing a series of blasts that detonated the ones that did not make contact with the carrier. Blue discs of seismic energy rippled away from the hull.

The shock wave whiplashed the hull from the bow to the superstructure and up to the command bridge, tossing Captain Raiken up into the overhead and inflicting a forehead wound. The gash sent blood dripping down her face and staining her uniform when she picked herself up from the deck. The blast tripped power converters all across the Might's engineering and thruster sections leaving her dead in the Void.

The combined blast managed to shift the bow of the Quasar Fire, causing an errant mine to drift in from the starboard side. It struck home just forward of the small superstructure. The powerful blast pushed the entire ship downwards and hurled her forward, flinging two unmanned TIE Interceptors out of the starboard hangar into the Void and throwing hundreds of her crew from their feet. On the hangar deck, TIEs were lifted in their racks and dropped with such a force that their solar panels were crushed. Two TIE/sa bombers broke loose and tumbled through several nearby TIEs like battering rams.

Captain Raiken captained her stricken ship with a cool composure even while a maelstrom of secondary explosions blew debris around the bridge. She maneuvered the Might for high orbit again hoping to get the Quasar Fire out of the atmosphere she had fallen into and deprive some of the fires aboard her ship of the oxygen they needed to burn. Many members of her crew took refuge in the hangars, which now had their heavy durasteel blast doors snapped shut. They donned their evo suits in case of defenestration and kept the remaining shuttles and life pods on standby. KS droids charged the infernos with firefighting gear and foam hoses all along the starboard hull.

But the Might was struck at the worst possible moment in the most vulnerable part of her hull, near the hypermatter storage tanks, which exploded in incandescent flames which didn't require oxygen to keep burning. Having just retrieved several Lambda shuttles the Might's fuel lines were full and the fires travelled through the hoses to the hangar decks where human and droid firefighters fought them in a life-or-death struggle. Secondary explosions occurred quickly and with devastating effect. In the hangars, the inferno enveloped fueled-up TIEs. Their ion engines exploded. Their energy bombs and proton torpedoes detonated, and their chin cannons began blasting haphazardly. Several bombs left on racks near the energy bomb arming station had detonated, leaving a vast hole through the elevator pit with a seething mass of flames.

The Might started a slight spin that her failing thruster controls could not compensate for. Electrical lines, power converters and fire mains cut out throughout the forward part of the ship. Most of the CommScan systems were knocked out, so Captain Raiken could not communicate with her sailors belowdecks. Ready service tibanna by the starboard forward anti-airspeeder turrets exploded and launched debris into the entire length of the Might's hull.

Thirty minutes after running into the concealed mine field, a tremendous hypermatter vapor explosion ripped through the Might. Flames ascended and descended, above and below the ship to a height of two hundred meters. A quadruple, barbette anti-airspeeder turret forward of the bridge was ripped from its mount and ejected high above the ship. The weapon's entire crew was killed. Captain Raiken was slammed to the deck for a second time. She suffered third degree burns to her face, scalp and ears. The interior of the bridge was completely engulfed in smoke, requiring it to be abandoned. Sailors picked up their injured captain and retreated aft. A steady rain of burning debris fell on the heads of sailors gathered for safety in the hangars.

Rescue pilots from Pride Rock and crews on the Raiders circled the burning Quasar Fire. They witnessed the bridge superstructure turn white, as if nearby Anax Alpha had burned away the skin of the ship and exposed the bone underneath.

Less than an hour after hitting the mines, Raiken realized the sabacc was up, and ordered the crew off the ship. Firefighters fell back as the KS droids took up their sacrificial positions in order to save the organic crew members. Life pods by the dozens ejected from the ship. Many were damaged and being this close to the upper atmosphere had to be retrieved quickly by the Raider corvettes, lest they be pulled down by Anax's gravity well. Other sailors in evo-suits hooked onto lines leading over to the Rebuker, while others simply stepped off the edge of the hangar into space in their evo-suits, to drift away until they were rescued. Spectacular explosions continued, endangering rescue LAATs from Pride Rock. The Raiders moved among the drifters and picked thousands of them up.

The Might burned furiously past dawn and into the morning, ever slowly slipping into Anax's gravity well. Calculations among the rescue crews reported to the captain that her ship would impact with the western ocean of Anax, thousands of kilometers from either Imperial of Confederate lines down below. Raiken watched from the deck of the Condemner as the Might was completely engulfed in flames, which presented a weirdly fascinating scene to all who witnessed it. Against the dark green forests below, she looked like some ship of neon fantasy. The durasteel plating around her upper hull glowed bright orange. Her ruptured fuel tanks spilled hypermatter and aviation solid fuel slugs into the atmosphere, and small forest fires soon erupted down on the planet beneath her. As soon as she drifted over the sea and away from the continental land mass the Waylay fired several proton torpedoes into her to insure she went down far from anyone dirtside. At 0903, she rolled a bit to starboard and impacted with the surface of the ocean. She went in, bow first and quickly started to submerge. Her stern bobbed once and then she was gone.

The dying Might had drawn in her escorts in a feverish rescue effort. It was the way of the Void that episodes like this would be accompanied by mynocks, struggling in their own confusion and efforts to survive. The Might had been in drydock for several months and picked up her fair share of the energy devouring creatures. As the escorting corvettes moved in with tractor beams to pull in the drifting sailors, their own crews were horrified. Mynocks were everywhere, lashing out in panic. A mynock would snatch a sailor by the arm or leg and pull him away from the rescue effort. Some would swoop downwards with their prey until they realized they were in breathable air, then release their captive and rush back into the vacuum. Their victim falling away as their screams cut off.

Other mynocks were just as confused by the explosions and attacked helpless Imperials as a means of self-defense. Sometimes a mynock would grab a poor sailor by the middle and shake him like an akk shaking a womp rat. Then the mynock would back off, realizing its mistake, dragging the dying man's entrails behind it as it flew away. The Void turned grainy and sand-like with frozen blood clouds. Dawn only illuminated the horror more for the rescuers.

Near the Waylay, a pair of sailors were drifting into lower orbit just out of tractor beam range. A LAAT was dispatched to pick them up and the craft hovered above the falling crewmen and dropped rescue lines to them. One of the sailors was holding up the other as their drop speed started to increase, but the second sailor's head was drooped over and his evo-suit mask was cracked wide open. He was clearly dead.

The LAAT crew shouted to the sailor over their comms. "Turn him loose and grab our lines. He's a goner."

"He's my brother!" She replied.

"He's dead. Let him go and grab the lines!"

"He's my brother! He's my brother! He's my brother . . .!"

Helplessly the LAAT crew watched as gravity swept the falling pair away from the rescue craft and down towards the leafy expanse of the forest far below. The last they saw of her; she was still holding onto her dead brother.

The last they heard faintly, "He's my brother. . ."

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Up Next: Insurgencies are built on hopelessness

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