Araunda stood looking at the display of the ships in the system as a group of X-Wings and Y-Wings flanked from a nearby asteroid belt and struck at the Punisher. She cursed under her breath as the ships moved in on the vessel and struck it. She turned to Admiral Quint. “Pull the Punisher back, have it shielded by the body of the Vronskr. It will still take some hits, but her big cousin will help her out.” Quint nodded in affirmation, as he walked over to relay the command to the formation. Quint was a good man, perfectly capable of running the fleet by himself. This however was her fleet, and her command and so long as she was on the ship she would command it. Her experience vastly outnumbered that of Admiral Weltin Quint.

She smiled as the Vronskr pushed into position to help the Punisher. She could see the lasers lashing out in space against their opponents, glancing off the shields. It truly was a work of beauty, she still preferred the older style Venator over that of the Imperial Star Destroyer however she couldn’t argue with the amount of firepower that an Imperial, or even an Imperial-II could bring to bear. Sure a Venator like the Absolution had a greater fighter complement, but it lacked in the structural integrity and firepower departments. She still couldn’t quite understand why Tarkin being a Clone Wars Veteran hadn’t chosen to improve on the design of the Venator.

“Send the light cruisers to flank the Rebel Fleet-” she didn’t expect the cruisers to be able to cause much in the way of damage to the Rebel Fleet. Her main hope that was that with the firepower of the Vronskr and the damaged Punisher depleting their shields was that her other vessels would be able to cause some damage. In the meantime the Warspite and Vengeance were rapidly approaching the planet unhindered by any rebel vessels. This meant that the next stage of her plan was about to come to into place, they had purge her world of these terrorists. The failure of the colonel reflected poorly on her. He could argue all he wanted that Tarkin had given him the greenlight, and that it was her fault for the appointment of a Prime Minister. However the Prime Minister had never been her choice, there were still some portions of the New Republic that persisted in this modern day and age. The appointment of a ‘civilian’ Prime Minister, Senator or even Governor was a requirement of every system within the Empire. Until the Emperor did away with this system, she was a victim of it.

On the bright side, she wouldn’t need to worry about that while Uslam was in a state of emergency. Right now she was in complete and full control of the planet, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Araunda smirked as she looked at the hologram of the theatre of war. The planet lit up green as the vessels started to get closer to the planet. “Ready the gunships, and the the prefabricated bases aboard the Vengeance and Warspite. I need them ready to deploy in a half rotation. Contact the Colonel, tell him I need an up to date map of what’s going on. I know that he’s been pushing his way back to the capital, I need to know where they’re digging in so I can deploy our forces to maximum effect.”

Imperial Base, Airfield - 20th Stormtrooper Platoon

"Right! Double check your kits, double check your fellow troopers kits and station yourselves in your designated deploy-ship! MOVE IT!"

The rather loud barking came from the battle-hardened Sergeant Major, a man most of the 20th Platoon feared. He stod taller than most, a position where he had almost full oversight of the gathered Platoon. He had a fiery spirit this day, one could almost think he was enthrilled. The Stormtroopers reckoned it was because of the rapidly uprising of filthy rebels, it had been some time ago since the 20th last got the chance to prove themselves to the Empire in battle. The Sergeant Major continued his renowned barking.

"Rumors say that the Rebels have retreated from their entrenched position and are now retreating to an even more entrenched position! That's what I'd do if I was a RAT! We will clear out the vermin, and remember! The Emperor are watching us, we shan't fail!"

The Platoon Commander, Lieutenant TK-230, arrived to the scene of thirty-eight Stormtroopers preparing for deployment. A sight that truly gave a man some vigour to his spirits. But there was no time to enjoy such a view, the Lieutenant decreed to himself. They had orders to follow. Suited in his Stormtrooper uniform, he addressed the Sergeant Major.

"Sergeant Major! Are the troops ready for deployment?"

The Sergeant Major turned around by instinct, positioning himself at attention when the Lieutenant spoke.

"Yes, sir! The men are double checking their gear now and are preparing for lift-off. We are ready to show the rats what happens when they disturb the Emperor's Peace!"

Nothing cheered the Lieutenant like the sight of an over-thrilled Sergeant Major. A rare sight, but most welcomed.

"Good to hear - Now, go to your designated squad and await for departure, Sergeant Major."
As the Sergeant made his way to the dropship, the Lieutenant gave the Imperial Base a glance. He knew very well that this could be his last time seeing it. Soon as the glance had settled the Lieutenant's mind, he went aboard the dropship. Their designated drop point? Either a firebase close to the frontlines or closer to the Capital. The Lieutenant awaited further orders from command.

Ganner ducked behind cover as a squad of Clone Troopers ran passed, he closed his eyes and waited for them to pass. As the sound of boots faded into the distance he stood up again. They kept coming, no matter what he did they kept coming after him. He stood up, hood over hi shead and kept moving through the corridors of the space station. His master had died at the hands of the clones, the individuals who had been entrusted to help the Jedi bring peace back to the Republic. Instead, they turned against them under the control of who could only now be identified as the Emperor. Palpatine, the individual who had worked so hard to bring peace back to the Republic... he was behind it all...

There is no Emotion, there is peace.

Ganner took a deep breath as he opened his eyes, above him he could see the stars. Tria and Uslam didn't have matching day and night cycles, from here he could faintly see the battle raging in Uslams orbit. A galactic organisation born out of chaos, could only result in chaos. The Empire may have originally appeared benevolent however it wasn't long until it had reared it's true face out here in the outer rim. Sure the Republic hadn't originally been the best galactic organisation out here, however it was better than that of the Empire. Slavery had been returned to the system. There was nowhere else he could go, the Empires reach continued to expand throughout the Galaxy. It did not appear to be stopping nor halting as time went on, the Rebellion grew stronger however the extreme measures the Empire was taking to counter the Rebellion too increased.

He took a deep breath and sighed, bending hishead down as he heard the whir of his droid coming up behind him. He let out a series of deep beeps and whirs. "No Chuckles, I don't need you to go get the ship ready. The ships fine where it is." Ganner stood up and faced the droid. "Look, I know what's going on. I'm not taking part of it, it's got nothing to do with me-" The droid whizzed back. "-No, I'm not. I mean, I am but I don't do any of that anymore. I haven't for years, theres nothing I can do." He stood up and began walking back to the house. "Chuckles, it's not meant ot be. If the Force wanted me to do anything, it'd give me a sign. There's nothing I can do." He turned back to the face the droid, a sad smile on his face. "I'm sorry."

Uslam, Aryon Mountains, Two Klicks South of Acting Imperial Command

The sky was on fire.

Xaxus Shang stood at the old mine entrance- a small, rusted metal doorway in the side of a sheer rockface- the ruin of his face turned up, enjoying for a moment the spectacular and terrible display of light as the Moff and the Admiral's ships brawled in low orbit. Flashes of emerald and crimson scarred the sky; fiery trails burned in all directions as debris rained down from the embattled vessels and ignited on descent- like a thousand comets, like the stars falling. Lightning arced through the clear winter sky: stray energy shots dissipating in the atmosphere.

"Beautiful," he said, wiping spit from where it had leaked and frozen through gaps in his mutilated left cheek.

"Trapped the old pirate up there, I guess," said a Bothan soldier to Shang's right. He was peering through a scope not at the sky but at the Imperial Command Center down the valley, an octagonal compound of grey plasteel and low, square buildings at the base of a long white slope. The command facility was bustling with activity. The faint whine of TIE patrols was a clear beneath the howling mountain gale and the thunderous crackle of the orbital battle, "That's it for fleet support."

"Wouldn't be so sure," said Shang, "I've worked under Xen's command before. The man has a way. Rumor is he's spooky, touched by the Force, but don't let him hear you say that. Unreconstructed Seperatist- he doesn't take kindly to Jedi types, or the other kind."

"I doubt any of us'll get much to say to the good Admiral again," replied the Bothan.

Shang shrugged and turned his gaze from the heavens to the men around him. A semi-circle of SpecOps soldiers in white fatigues, hunkered down among the pines and the boulders, most wearing rebreathers and goggles against the cold.

Two blasts of static came over their comm-units. The wookie's team had planted the charges.

Shang clicked his communicator thrice, then once, not speaking.

Get to the speeders. Blow it when you're out of range.

In Orbit, the Ancestral Right

The observation chamber was dark, like the nave of a temple, the only light coming from the blue glow of the central holodisplay, Uslam's pale radiance, and the turbolaser exchange taking place just beyond the thick glass windows.

Admiral Xen stood at the holo-projector, where the ferocious and silent battle outside was playing out in miniature before him. His head was bowed, like a man at prayer.

He was not praying.

His narrowed eyes were tracking the markers for Intruder squadron as they completed their run on Punisher. He watched as the squadron CO's X-Wing flashed red, then was gone, and as the XO's ship spun masterfully out of flak and tracer fire, taking out two TIEs in the same number of seconds.

Clang. The XO's callsign was Clang.

The Admiral tilted his head a moment, seemed to consider something, then straightened up. Outside, Punisher drew near, venting flames and atmosphere from at least four serious holes punched in her hull by Cutlass and Intruder. Good sized, but not fatal. Xen would see to that. Behind Punisher loomed Vronskr, already directing long-range fire at the rebel flag-ship, shrugged off for the moment by the Right's intact shields.

The battery exchange between Xen's battlegroup and the Punisher intensified as the rebels closed on the Star Destroyer. The Imperial vessel's forward shields glowed red, with ragged tears beginning to open along the energy seams.

"Alright, get in close and ugly," said Xen, "Keep Punisher between us and Vronskr."

Captain Zyme shot back a terse acknowledgement from the Right's bridge.

"All vessels," said Xen, "get your shots in on the Victory destroyer, then jump. Scimitar and Saber squadrons stay with me, keep those TIEs off the Right and use the vulture-screen to absorb fire. When I jump, you jump. Intruder, Cutlass, Broadsword and Stranger squadrons, get out of here."

Acknowledgments crackled in over the comms. The Right pulled alongside Punisher and let loose a catastrophic broadside, popping the Imperial ship's shields in a bloom of azure and crimson light.

The rebel fleet unloaded on the un-shielded Victory as one by one ships disappeared into hyperspace, fleeing to relative safety. Not all of them were so lucky. Vronskr's guns claimed the Corellian corvette Ashland and the Recusant destroyer Gamekeep as they powered up to jump.

Xen watched their icons disappear on his display. He spat onto the deck with a sneer.

Meanwhile, his flagship and Punisher danced, the rebel ship pivoting constantly to keep out of Vronskr's line of fire. The space between Punisher and Ancestral Right was a blinding flurry of scarlet and jade. Explosions raked Punisher's failing hull and the vessel began to come apart, its serrated-dagger frame splitting crookedly.

Vronskr- eager for a chance to take the rebel flag ship- fired on its lesser cousin, obliterating it and sinking a row of shots into the Right's prow, setting scores of decks ablaze.

There was an azure flash, and it was over. The Right was gone.

Xen had fled. The only rebel ships remaining were a handful of suddenly mindless vulture droids and the burning husk of Gamekeep spinning in the void, amid the vast smoldering ruin of Punisher.

Uslam's orbit belonged to the Empire once more.

The growl was almost audible from Wyte as the Rebel ships cut as close to the Punisher as possible. Credit where credit was due, the bombing run had been effective. The asteroids in the system had always had strange properties, she was told it was something to do with the mineral composition in them. Something warranting further study, however for now she had bigger things to worry about. The Punisher was going to go down, there was nothing she could do about that. She'd soon bring an end to this Rebellion, her tactic had been strong however in doing so it decreased the ability to take down a large number of ships, had she jumped into one formation she wouldn't have takena nything with her, and now she knew what she was up against. The loss of life was regretable, however in war it wasn't unexpected. The Rebels were better prepared than she had previously thought, fighters and bombers more heavily armed. Luckily numbers had prevailed and the sheer volume of TIEs in the conflict had eliminated a large amount of the Rebel Squadrons.

"Have the Vronskr fire across the Punishers prow, order Captain Fillx to abandon ship-" there was nothing she could do about the Punisher now, but she'd show her resolve. She could see as the order was instantly relayed, the Vronskr lashing out at the aging Providence, some of its shots missing the dying hulk of the Punisher others striking her and tearing through. As the last Rebel ship jumped into hyperspace she couldn't help but notice that not all the fighters had made a retreat into hyperspace. "-Admiral." She turned to face him, and he looked up in acknowledgement "Order the Vronskr to actively ignore the Rebel Fighters in their retreat, have it appear to focus on the rescue of personnel from the Punisher however I want an officer tracking each individual fighter on sensors. They've got a base somewhere, and I want to know where it is."

Quint nodded. "Yes Governor."

Things were moving along nicely, track those fighters discretely back to their base. That would give her wherever the Rebels were planning to launch their assaults in system, then all she had to worry about was the fortifications in Lorya. The city itself was already in a defensible position, situated up in the mountains. The shield generator that she had installed was the best available to the Imperial Military for shields of its type. With the fact that her space station was missing important components she had to run under the impression that the rebels had further fotified the capital, it wasn't that much of an issue for Star Destroyers but it was an issue for launching TIE fighter support and landing craft.

The information packet from the Colonel came in, detailing where the Rebels had dug in. The Warspite and absolution continued to pull into orbit. She smiled as the ship then slowed, it's powerful engines preventing gravity from taking her. "Begin blanket bombardment of Rebel Positions-" She turned to look out of the viewports. "-Clear a path to the capital, all ships and all batteries." She watched as the turbolasers lanced out down towards the planet, she could only imagine the fear from the Rebels as they heard the shots ring through the sky. It wasn't precise fire, given that the ships were holding in orbit and the targets weren't designated and marked. She turned around. "Prepare my shuttle, inform the Colonel to prepare Firebase Alpha for my Arrival. As soon as the orbital bombardment stops, launch the Gunships to clean up any survivors."

---

The fire died down soon after, the Imperials seeming to draw back their fire altogether as what was left of the company cowered and waited behind felled trees, disabled hover sleds, and other debris. Stojan took a deep breath, flooding the hot air in his lungs and throat with cold air. He tucked his DL-44 back into its holster, adjusting his position as the sound of repulsorlift engines grew louder, until the sound seemed to come from everywhere, and the white vehicle, no larger than a cargo truck, pulled forth, the E-Web atop it swiveling wildly as the gunner searched for targets.

The entire company was abuzz. The wounded were packed on by those brave enough to stay, and the rest of the disorganized mass began to pile aboard, taking seats or simply taking place on the metal floors between the cots of wounded. Stojan made to be the last on, standing at the end of the cabin as the door closed, shrouding them all in darkness, leaving only the sound of moaning wounded and quiet chatter to flood the ears of all.

It was not a long ride, supposedly only half a kilometer, but it seemed so much longer as the cabin illuminated idly with what seemed like a million stars bursting and falling to the ground. But it was simply a bitter reminder that the battle had truly begun. The fleets were engaged, and the main Imperial force was gathering just beyond the woods, with enough men to simply trample the partisans. Stojan mulled at the thoughts as he looked through the port which the E-Web gunner stood, watching the exchange far above him.

“Sir, the rebels have fled. Moff Wyte’s fleet are on trajectory to bombard the rebel lines as we speak.” A comms officer said with an uplifting tone. Jasper gave a sly smile as well as he moved closer to the comms officer. “Lieutenant Stevenson, contact Major Conrad near Usal Tor . Confirm that the city is surrounded and still in rebel hands and that no troopers have entered the site yet.” Jasper said the lieutenant nodded and began contacting the major meanwhile another comms officer Lieutenant Hesik called for the colonel’s attention.

“Colonel, we had sent out a medical transport that was supposed to pick up some wounded. They arrived but when they got there they found a trandoshan with them seemingly unconscious. They aren’t aware of what to do and are asking for orders.” Jasper’s eyebrow raised taking a moment to recall the trandoshan report he had read earlier. Kle he recalled and quickly narrowed his eyes, thinking of all the information he could obtain from her. “Lieutenant inform the team to bring her back. Be sure to restrain her, we wouldn’t want her getting back.”

Jasper then returned to Stevenson. “Major Conrad, confirms they have the city tightly locked down and awaiting further instructions.” Jasper smiled with his gleaming white teeth. “Inform him to maintain positions and record the siege. Then get Squadron Commander Cassie on the comms. Inform her to prepare a bombing run against Usal Tor.We shall show Uslam any city housing insurgents shall be dealt with accordingly.” Stevenson gave a look back to Jasper with eyes of dread yet knew enough not to say anything and carry on his orders. “Yes, sir.” Jasper then began walking away informing Stevenson to prepare for the Moffs arrival, by sending men to the landing bay. Which was where Jasper had planned to meet her as she requested.

---

Corporations would call this a collaboration, several Rebel SpecForces types with local Uslam miners, the best drilling and detonation engineers they had, working on a project deep in the mountain. It was several weeks' work to set up a contingency for invasion on their end; tunnels bored, wires laid, charges set. The idea wasn't so much to blow a section of the mountain off, though that was what was going to happen, as much as it was to create another chain reaction.

Grozaddik, the growling Wookiee SpecForces NCO in charge of the charges (heh) clicked back acknowledgement of the Captain's orders and then gave more orders to the rest, some of whom translated for the others.

The work still moved at a pace, checking the primers and making sure the explosives were in good condition. Function checks mattered. It wasn't just some explosive charges, but also some EMP, for a specific purpose. As large profile and loud as this was going to be, it was cover for something else. That didn't mean the operation was a facade, since they had a target and objective, but it did mean that one thing could also provide cover for another.

Grozaddik had to admire Shang's ingenuity here. They were all volunteers for the long haul. Rebel Command did not want to throw people away, but some of them wanted into the fight. This particular SpecForces detachment knew that they were on Uslam for the haul and probably to the end.

The troopers and the miners started calling out their status checks; once they were all green, they started to move to the exfil tunnel; dug in transport and everything they needed to get out into their next RV, so they could plan the next move of this conflict. Grozaddik, no fan of the Empire, hoped they'd enjoy the show.

---

That was no laser. The charges themselves represented little in the way of threats, but there was something else, a rumbling.

Uslam was snow-bound, this was the winter.

The avalanche was not the minor ones that anyone that knew the place was used to. This was a massive thing that rumbled across the horizon, whose awakening roar could be heard for miles.

Entire rock faces were obliterated by expertly set charges, providing a smooth slide down, so that the snow and rock could gain momentum unimpeded.

Until it got to the Imperial base anyway. It was a SpecForces plan from the getgo, a classic sabotage move on their part calculated for maximum strategic disruption. It was one of a series of things planned to give the Imperials a hard time.

---

If you could shoot at it from space, it could shoot back at you. And so Lorya hadn't been idle since the uprising either. With Imperial ships in orbit, the batteries that Admiral Xen brought down spun up to life. With city-based generators, rather than depending simply on more compact space-based generators (which were brought down and hooked into the grid as well) the City had plenty of power. The shields came down in a flash and the turbolaser batteries and an ion cannon all fired in concert according to a coordinated fire plan tied through a central computer system deep in the city.

Xen may have been abandoning them for a more favorable battlefield, but the ground-based fire added a new element to the touch and go of space combat -- now the Empire had to decide if it wanted to gamble its defenses on Lorya's firepower and shielding...and the shielding came right back up the instant that the firing ceased, giving the groundside crews time to recalibrate and recharge. They were managing the power supply carefully, and focusing the fire on the most immediate threats -- the Victory's and Imperials in orbit. The residents could feel the shudder of power systems and hear the screaming atmosphere as the turbolaser bolts superheated air, as well as watch the light show. In the Headquarters, much of the staff were devoted to either firing the weapons, coordinating the shields, monitoring power or generating reports from the sensors on what the enemy contacts were doing.

General Mathland Crovall stepped outside of headquarters to witness the sky, pretending that he could see the fighting in space. It was a sign that the reinforcements for the Empire had finally arrived. The orbit of Uslam was under Imperial control, meaning that a blockade was going to be established. He couldn't stop thinking about the Rebel fighters that were willing to sacrifice their own lives to buy his units time to build up defenses. Hopefully, at least one ship somehow survived the slaughter. "May the force be with you all." he said to the sky as the surviving fighters returned to base.

The fighting was only getting started.

General Crovall returned to headquarters and the command center as one of the officer waited for his return. “We got several ships on our sensors. What should we do, sir?” the officer asked.

The general looked at the sensors and realized that the Imperial was planning on doing an orbital bombardment; however, the question was where. Do they realize that the capital is protected by shield? Or are they just going to attack any area with the most rebel activity? He had to make a choice: protect the remaining units in exchange of land or make them stay during the bombardment. After thinking it over, General Crovall requested that everyone was listening him to one of the officers. Then, he started speaking.

“All units, this is General Crovall speaking. I am honored to be fighting against the Empire and their tyrannical rule over our home. That is why many already gave their lives. To end the rule and bring back democracy. Not to our world, but countless planets that are suffering the same conditions as ours. People are scared of fighting back, but I believe that the Rebellion cause will change that. It already did for our world. Now, thousands of us are fighting against Empire.”

The general sighed before saying, “However, we need to realize that we have to make sacrifices for the greater good. That is why I am ordering all units to abandon the Phase Line Bravo and retreat to the capital. The orbits of Uslam are under Empire control now and we have reason to believe that they will conduct an orbital bombardment. We do not know where it will take or how long it will last; however, we are not going to guess. Take anything from the line that you can carry over to the capital. Additional orders will be sent by unconventional means. We also have reason that the Empire is listening to us.”

“Fuck them.” he said, hoping that they are listening, “We would rather die than accept surrender. Hell, they are just going to kill us anyway. As for me, I will make attempts to keep our communications safe from the ears of the Empire. Once the lines are safe, I will come back on to give out new orders. We don’t know how long it will take, but we aren’t giving up. Until then, stay together, survive, and fight back. The force is always with you all.”

General Crovall sat down after finishing his speech to everyone, including the Empire (if they were listening). Before he could even rest for a second, another officer informed him that a bomber squadron and TIEs were spotted on the sensors, heading to another city. He didn’t have the men or resources to provide aid. The general said in a disappointing tone, “Inform the rebel forces of the incoming threat and tell them to evacuate the city with citizens to the capital. That is all we can do for them.”
He really needed a drink, but he needed to approve the SpecForces’ operation. Another officer said to the general, “Ready whenever you are.”

He stood up and nodded before speaking to the commander of the SpecForces. “This is General Crovall. Operation White Terror has been approved. Empire might be listening in. Radio silence until task is done. May the force guide you and your team success.”
General Crovall finally found himself with a little moment of peace to smoke and reflect on the choices that he made in the last ten or fifteen minutes. And he really needed that break.

---

The order to retreat came over the comms soon after the orbital strike began, the green lances raining from the sky and falling on Phase Line Alpha and the no-man’s-land between Alpha and Bravo. The ground shook under the defenders’ feet as the turbolaser fire obliterated trees and cracked the earth. The soldiers stationed at Phase Line Bravo had cowered nervously behind the fortifications when the first turbolasers smote the earth of Uslam. As the order to retreat came through, and as Phase Line Bravo took a direct hit, the line descended into chaos.

“Rose Command, this is Rose Two Actual, requesting evac instructions!” Corte shouted over into the commlink, struggling to be heard over the turbolaser fire, explosions, stray blaster fire, and shouts and cries. Privates Prevec and Miklovic, sweating bullets as they worked, were breaking down the Mark II’s as Sergeant Valkheva shouted orders over the din of turbolaser fire. Another turbolaser touched down dangerously close to the line. “Come in Rose Command!”

“Rose Command to Rose Two Actual, your evac is Rally Point Sigma, marked on your pad.” Corte looked down at the tacpad on her wrist and pulled up a small holographic map, which marked their escape point with a green icon. Rally Point Sigma was one of a half dozen or so clearings in the Reserve that the Liberators’ engineers had made to facilitate air landings. “Please proceed to Sigma for air extraction.”

Corte relayed the instructions to her platoon over the commlink, and then turned on Prevec and Miklovic, who had finished breaking down one of the Mark II’s and were struggling with the second. Screams echoed through the air as a turbolaser struck the line. “Leave it! Take the one and move!” The two privates split the weight of the freed Mark II, rifles slung over their shoulders, and rushed out of the gun nest, Corte behind them.

The platoon ran through the forest, the soldiers doing their best to ignore the screams and explosions around them. There were just over a dozen among hundreds of the retreating, all of them terrified. Orbital strikes were every soldier’s nightmare. Life and death were matters of luck and misfortune, every emerald lance a draw from a Sabacc deck.

They made the clearing after a four-minute sprint. Their ride, a jury rigged BT-45D, hovered a foot off the ground, ready and waiting to take them. The flight personnel waved them on as they approached, and the door gunner grabbed Valkheva’s hand and pulled her up. Next were the sisters, the Musvec twins, and the rest of Glaato’s squad. Valkheva’s was next, and then Vash. Finally, Corte, the last on the ground, reached up and grabbed a hold of Glaato’s outstretched arm. The Nikto sergeant pulled her up with a single arm, demonstrating his strength, and the transport began rising.

They were fourteen when they left Phase Line Bravo, and they were fourteen as they boarded the evac shuttle. It was a successful evacuation for Lieutenant Adala, for whatever that was worth.

Rose Company’s Second Platoon took seats in the passenger bay. The door remained open even as the ship took off, and Corte, holding onto the door, was able to observe the evacuation as they sped toward Lorya. Hundreds of soldiers, on foot and in vehicles, moving on the forest floor, falling back under a hellish rain of green fire to defend Lorya from under the canopy of the city's shield generator.

The true fight for Uslam would soon begin.

Aboard Ancestral Right

"...and finally, Gamekeep, with all 120 souls," said Lieutenant Mavdi, looking up from his dataslate to the Admiral.

Xen sucked his teeth and shook his head, "Butcher always takes his bill."

The Admiral was quiet for a long moment. He was sprawled lazily across the Captain's Throne in the center of the command bay, legs draped over the left armrest, a goblet of Moff Wyte's wine in his be-ringed hand.

"Hers was higher, though," he said at last, and sipped his wine, "Not that she cares an ounce for her scraping little lackeys. She'd shoot 'em all into space if it got her an audience with the old witch doctor on the throne."

The command staff paid him little attention as they busied themselves with their tasks. The half-sober pontifications of Adamantius Xen were just another fact of life in the Alliance to Restore the Republic.

Ancestral Right was idling in deep space, the hyperdrive cycling and preparing to fire once more to take them to the Bitter End, the not-so-affectionate nickname rebel deckhands used for Xen's base of operations deep in the Semiramis Asteroid Cluster. Only a handful of the fleet from Uslam clustered around the Right, the others had made other jumps to pre-designated deadzones. It was Xen's practice never to jump directly between a base or stronghold and an engagement, to confound enemy trackers. Since joining the Alliance, Xen had been given jammer systems designed to prevent Imperial hyperspace plotting, but a pirate's instincts are hard to overcome with new toys.

"We're ready to jump sir," said Mavdi.

"Take us home."

---

“SK-1024, repeat your coordinates.” SK-1024 read the coordinates off the tactical readout displayed across his visor aloud into the open comm. “SK-1024, are you in a river?”

“Negative, Command, we are in the field due west of Central. We have vision on some kind of quarry. Moving to investigate.”

Lieutenant Josten Kannik, designation SK-1024, motioned for his partners to advance. Each of the scout troopers cradled an E-11, sights forward and prepared to fire. There was some kind of malfunction with the tactical network that had them jumpy, but orders were orders. Scout the periphery for the advancing column in the wake of the orbital bombardment, execute limited engagements with the local rebels, report in with coordinates where they found pockets of resistance.

Josten took a position on the lip of the quarry and looked through the scope of his E-11s. It was a depression hewn into the rock of Uslam by the local mining guilds. There were a few industrial structures down there that stood to be cleared. The scout troopers had dismounted their speeders and had proceeded on foot. Reports had come in that the rebels had cleared their line positions in the face of the orbital bombardment, so all that was left was to clear out any holdouts along the way to protect the Imperial column’s vulnerable flank.

His fireteam had been given the order to kill on sight. They’d found a couple of ragged stragglers, who he scoped out and put down himself with two precise shots from his long rifle.

He did a slow sweep over the quarry, and found movement. Something—someone—had made a dash from a structure built into the wall of the quarry. Two more followed, carrying blasters and garbed in the irregular combat outfits of the Uslam militia.

“Command, this is SK-1024, we have contact,” Lieutenant Kannik reported in. No response. Static. Had the comms gone down? “Command do you copy?” He heard blasterfire from the quarry. They’d made contact. He switched over to his fireteam’s commline. “Rebel contact confirmed, open fire and fall back,” he ordered, but again, no response.

Swearing, he raised his rifle to his shoulder and peered through the scope to line up covering fire for his team. He lined up his targeting sights on a woman emerging from the building, tall, dark hair, and squeezed the trigger.

---

Corte tripped. At that same moment, she felt the heat of a blaster bolt across her shoulder blades, inches from burning a lethal hole through her from shoulder to shoulder. She caught herself with practiced athleticism and rolled into cover behind one of the quarry’s buildings.

“Sniper!” she shouted over the din of shouts and blasterfire. Vash, emerging from the mine rail entrance, raised his A-300, in its targeting rifle configuration, to his shoulder and searched for the enemy above them.

---

Lieutenant Kannik swore as the woman fell. He knew it was a miss just as the blaster bolt flew. He searched for a new target, bringing the sights back on that building’s entrance. Rebel soldiers were pouring out of the entrance now, dozens of them, maybe more.

Target rich environment.

Lieutenant Kannik lined up a shot. He went to squeeze the trigger, but saw a glint from a corner of the targeting display. He paused for a heartbeat, or half of one.

He saw a red flash.

Back at the base, the Intruders, despite the slovenly, by Core Worlder military standards, appearance, were already turning their X-wings around on the maintenance. The techs were on it while the pilots rested, but once the pilots got their sack time, they were back in the effort to run diagnostics and scheduled maintenance. It wasn't as simple as just parking the X-wing like an air car, it was a combat spacecraft tuned with performance in mind, and that meant maintenance was intensive.

There were never enough techs to go around, but this band of junkers, smugglers, survey spacers, pirates and systems defense force veterans were used to having to do it themselves.

Readiness was important because if they might have to launch at a moment's notice. It'd happened before.

So when one of Xen's flunkies came around with an invitation for Shan, it was met with annoyance -- he was greasy, dirty and sweating from the intensive work of overhauling one of the engine units in his X-wing that came up with a questionable status, some sort of wiring issue or a gasket or one of the many different forms of wear and tear that could befall highly and precisely tuned performance craft. With sweat on his brow and goggles over his eye, an arc-welder in hand, he shrugged and left the gear on a wheeled table.

If Xen was asking for an audience, he'd get Shan as the invitation arrived. And so even with the cocked eyebrow of the aide asking a silent question of his attire and presentation, he stomped, in reinforced work boots and stained coveralls to meet the CO.