The Rebel Faction

Allegiance-Class Star Destroyer Timeless

A thud on the glassy table caused the middle-aged XO to jump slightly, his mind being pulled back to the present in a rush. He blinked a few times, his black gloved hand shooting up to grope at his mustache on sheer instinct.

He looked up at the elderly captain, dressed in his brown khaki uniform and resting back in the chair across from the younger - though not by much - commander.

"What is this?" the XO asked, looking down with groggy, blurred eyes.

He heard Captain Xiler sigh.

"Orders from the top," he explained quietly, as though afraid others would hear. "All the way from the top."

Ever since the capture of Joren Arden, things had been coming "from the top" quite a bit, everyone vieing for power and claiming that they were the official high command.

Though it would take someone very important to yield such a reaction from Captain Xiler. Commander Tryke picked up the stack of papers and pulled them in close.

He took the orders in slowly, digesting each inked out word carefully before letting the stack drop to another thud. His eyes, widened, peered at the captain across from him.

The other simply nodded.

"All the way from the top," he echoed.

"Who?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," the captain said. Tryke smirked.

"Try me," he boasted gleefully.

"Admiral Me'Vere," he said.

Well that would certainly explain a lot. Tryke looked down at the papers one last time, eyeing the orders with a bit of awe. Though he could not deny the excitement he also felt.

He rotated in his seat to gaze at the painting behind him, of an old Imperial-Class Star Destroyer he'd served on many years ago.

"When do we leave?"

"Three hours, the orders literally just came in."

"And the intelligence?"

"Good, we've been sending in transmissions for the past thirty minutes and are going to continue for the next hour or so trying to instigate the people, to perhaps turn on her," Xiler explained, rising from his seat. "Get to your station either way Commander, we have a helluva job ahead of us."

"Yes sir..." Tryke commented quietly while gazing at the painting. When he heard the door hiss shut, heralding the exit of the captain, he finally turned and rose, offering one last glance at the brief orders on his desk.

<hr>
Draw out, chase, and capture Bhindi Drayson, last seen at Abregado-rae
<hr>



Six Hours Later

The Allegiance-Class Star Destroyer Timeless slowly eased out of hyperspace, as the transmissions had promised with the exact force they'd promised.

The small task force moved forward, the Allegiance at the helm, its Imperial Star Destroyer fast behind it. The rest of the fleet followed closely.

All of them moving toward the planet.


<font size=1>--Capital Ships--

1x Allegiance Star Destroyer
1x Imperial Star Destroyer
1x Strike Class Cruiser
1x Battle Horn Class Bulk Cruiser
2x Penetrator Assault Cruiser
3x Silencer Cruisers
4x Corellian Gunships

1x Squadron of Birds of Prey

Imperial-Class Star Destroyer Spartan
Undisclosed Location

Admiral Me'Vere's hands were clasped tightly at the small of his back, eyes gazing out across the starpaths, watching the illuminating glow of the small moon. It seemed as though a white ring surrounded it, the dimly lit atmosphere of the tiny sattelite.

He let out a short sigh as he turned back to face his XO, who gave him a curt nod.

"All is ready then?" Ralen asked quietly. His body was tense, his head throbbing with pre-battle stress.

The XO nodded, earning him a grin from the admiral. He looked back out over the transparisteel before him and took in one more deep breath.

"Okay then, get the flotilla moving," he said.

<hr>

Abregado-rae

Xiler's hands gripped down onto the arms of his command chair as a brief wave of tenseness passed through his body, causing little ripples of exaggerated fear to both rise and fall instantaneously.

Deep green eyes watched straight ahead as the stars seemed to pass them quicker and quicker with the acceleration of the starship. Allegiance Star Destroyers were not exceptionally fast ships, at least not in comparison to the more sleek and agile craft on every side of it. Though what it lacked in speed it more than made up for in firepower.

Firepower that the people of Abregado-rae could see lumbering toward them in full view.

The bridge of the Timeless was quiet, each person having been fully briefed on the objective of the operation. Most of the men were nervous, having heard the notorious reputation that had been sent out throughout the ranks of the Outer Rim Sovereignty.

How much of these were rumors and how much were fact were beyond the people...but rumors all had to start somewhere didn't they?

What if they were captured? Would they be tortured? Forced to offer up priceless information on the Sovereignty?

These crewmen were high priority personnel...some of the best that the navy had to offer. Capture would mean certain death after unwittingly giving up otherwise invaluable intelligence.

Xiler however had given his word...passed straight from high command itself...that none of these men would be captured. That none of the marines stowed aboard the ship would have to endure the seemingly ritualistic torture that had been the glee of the Empire for so many generations.

The captain recalled his father's stories of enduring Imperial incarceration. Of how Darth Vader had a kind of zeal for using various unruly methods of torture to incite a response from the victims.

Then there were the stories of Han Solo...who had to suffer electric shocks to the face for no particular reason, simply for the Dark Lord of the Sith's sick amusement.

That had been in a time when the Rebellion were a simple nuisance...what of now? What would they do to a government who waged open war with the Empire?

Xiler held no doubts that Drayson would personally see to the deaths of every single person who fell to her command in the most brutal and savage ways possible.

The men feared what could happen to them in that case...but they knew, they trusted such a thing would not and could not happen to them. Not as long as this mission contained the kind of high priority promised to it.

Most of the men were curious though. Was Bhindi Drayson still here? Would she have the courage to fight an Allegiance Star Destroyer?

Xiler and his XO, Commander Tryke, doubted she had the courage to attempt to do battle with a Sovereign force without bringing overwhelming battleships in an attempt to simply crush them with little to no effort.

She was completely predictable.

But it mattered little. There were other objectives. Military compounds to be leveled, enemy forces to be defeated, information to be garnered.

And that was Xiler's intentions here.

With the fighters deployed in a defensive screen, and a loose formation heading toward the planet, the ships stood ready, shields and weapons fully charged.

When Tryke gave the confirmation and a target was acquired, one of the enormous shield generators designed to defend the planet from bombardment, the Timeless let up as red and green shots emitted from every cannon that could reach.

Just as the other nearby ships did. Green, red, all the turbolasers shot forward with a vengeance, screaming toward the shield generator.

After the first two volleys, incinerating various targets upon and about the shield generators and scraping viciously the armored plating that kept the thing intact, Xiler ordered the firings come to a halt.

The ships set themselves up in a defensive alignment, moving a couple klicks closer inward.

A statement was sent forth from the Timeless.

"Attention, attention military and para-military forces. This is Captain Xiler of the Outer Rim Sovereignty, Second Fleet, Spartan Command. We have entered the system and stated our intentions with force on a military target.

"We offer you this chance and this chance alone to begin evacuating your cities where you have hidden military targets. We will allow any civilians to leave, however any armed individuals will be deemed a threat and fired upon. This is your only warning.

"Civilians, this is your chance. We have no quarrel with you, but my orders take precedence. We shall fire upon military targets until Abregado-rae is no longer a threat to the galaxy or its galactic freedoms. Your government is hiding defensive installations inside cities, they are arming you. If you accept these arms, you have officially given up your rights as a civilian and shall be deemed a para-military force and treated with the same scrutiny as Imperial Stormtroopers.

"This is, again, your only chance. Evacuate the cities at once, we shan't offer a second warning."

Tryke leaned back on his heels as the communication was sent out, scrambled into four different languages and shot out to directly come in contact with the persons down there. Would it work?

He had no way of telling. The Imperials were undoubtably feeding their typical propaganda "they are here to murder and kill you" and the ever so popular "notice how they are launching orbital bombardments!"

Let them.

They had orders to raze military facilities...that was what they were here to do. Staring across the bridge to Xiler, he saw the determined stare upon his face.

They were hiding behind civilians...they all knew whatever happened to those very people would be the direct result of Imperial cowardice. They were unwilling to come out and fight. They had to hide and shield themselves behind forced paramilitary personnel.

Not that it mattered. As the communication filtered through and was picked up on every radio and holonet, they began to see.

Even those who disregarded the "propaganda" of the Outer Rim Sovereignty heard it. If they cared not, so be it.

Xiler's consciounse was clean. He had not fired upon civilian targets, and he would not do so.

If they were going to put a shield generator next to a mall...then any collateral damage was in direct fault of the Empire. Not he.

"Let me know," Xiler stated, "when they give a response, if any. Give the civilians a chance to evacuate and have the fighters widen their screen."

Tryke nodded, eagerly falling back to relay the orders.

"Oh and Commander..." Xiler added. Tryke turned over his shoulder to offer the captain a glance. "Jam all long range communications belonging to the enemy."

Again the XO nodded, making off to carry out the orders.

Imperial-Class Star Destroyer Spartan

Both the admiral and his younger - and yet still mildly aged - commodore could not supress chuckles as they watched the propaganda being spewed forth from the Empire. Arms crossed across his chest, pressing the metal of his medals into his chest slightly, Ralen could hardly deny the obvious humor in this.

The Empire's entire political stand point was dying fast. Like a boat filling with water, it was simply the last man grasping for straws to keep it afloat. Soon the entire thing would simply collapse.

He could imagine, unfortunately, exactly what the Empire was going to do to the poor lad who cost them Abregado-rae politically. He was barfing out bullshit as easily as he did breath, and the entire galaxy was seeing him for the sucker he was.

For the past few hours, Captain Xiler had been working beautifully hand in hand with the civilians of Abregado-rae, getting information on the dead, wounded and Imperial positions, what targets were hit and what weren't.

A handful of diplomatic officers had landed to discuss terms with the people, and what would turn them against the Empire. Most civilians had agreed:

They simply did not want to be ruled by anyone.

That was a fair belief. The Outer-Rim Sovereignty had neglected them, the Empire abused them.

Admiral Me'Vere had told Xiler that they were going to get exactly what they wanted.

Commodore Wells eased off of his spot on the desk, turning over to click off the HoloNet displayer. A few minutes ago Ralen had given his own counter, as he put it, the final response he would give.

They were about to jump into a combat zone. There was no time to play tit for tat in a situation where people's lives hung in the balance.

The commodore took his seat across from the admiral, who was by then already in deep thought, his brow scrunching up to accentuate the point.

"As is said by many Imperials...'the board is set' sir," Wells remarked, placing his arms on either side of the chair. Ralen nodded slowly, bringing fingertip to fingertip as he let out one, long sigh.

"Reports from Xiler indicate that the population is no longer hostile to us...fifty-seven percent of the militias having laid down their arms, twenty-seven having been destroyed in the first few attacks," he responded. "Civilian casualties are at a minimum. We are doing our job well."

"The civilians explained that the Empire is talking about destroyed residential districts and losing sight with them..." Wells ventured off to explain as well as question, "saying that they have...cameras was it? set up there so they could monitor the situation. Those went out."

"We haven't been targetting civilians Commodore, nor have we been targetting residential districts." This time Ralen let his hands drop to the grips of his own chair, leaning back into the full, black leather of it, causing it to rock back just a bit. "We knocked out their visual sattelite dishes however, they're simply not being relayed back to their command station wherever it is. The civilians have given us some potential locations, but we don't know where it is exactly."

Wells nodded.

"What's the damage report?" he asked.

"They've lost their ability to supress air strikes, they're practically blind, they're deaf to long range communications, but it's a planet, we can't jam close range communications, we'll have to knock out their comms towers, and I don't feel like depriving civilians of communications after this is all over. Their shield generator is down and they've lost a couple bunkers."

Again Wells nodded.

The strategy was sound enough. Decimate their military personnel from the sky, take out bunkers and eliminate their ability to fight you, this will wear down onto the men when they meet on the ground - if they meet on the ground.

The most difficult thing about this attack was that many of the people were still at ends with the Outer Rim Sovereignty. Joren Arden had not been the best of military-political leaders.

The job was simply too difficult for him. Me'Vere wondered how he himself would stand up to such a task if it was laid before him.

As though reading his mind, Wells made the inquiry that had been sitting on his tongue all this time.

"What about Joren Arden? Have they said anything about him?" he asked.

Ralen nodded slowly, leaning forward.

"They're holding him in one of the local jails in the capitol. The Empire initially wanted the glory, but the ever opportunists that they are, wanted the chance to score another political victory and decided to have the Abregado-rae natives try him for something...it's been such chaos down there since they took over that they aren't even sure any more what it was he was being tried for. Some people say war crimes, others say negligence in command."

"The latter seems more likely..." Wells dared to comment. Ralen simply nodded his approval.

"Arden is a good man, he just had too much racked onto him. We'll get him out though."

"So negligence isn't exactly tolerated on Abregado-rae then I see."

This time the aging admiral shook his head slowly. "No, they don't like that idea much. The entire place is basically an industrial-esque world. Negligence can get many people killed or throw the planet into depression. That is exactly the last thing they need. But I've been studying them heavily," Ralen's eyes twitched a bit, as though a memory were being projected before his eyes as clearly as a holoprojector would, "they won't kill him for negligence. At best they were going to hold him and then expell him."

Wells nodded. As he opened his mouth to continue the conversation, a low-pitched ring emitted from the alarms in the cabin. The two identified it immediately. They were emerging from hyperspace.

Both men's stomach turns as the two realities met, and the flotilla was shot out, completing the second fleet.

This half moving from the far side of the planet, moving in cautiously, carrying the bulk of the ground force.

<hr>

Commander Nevgerad leaned down against one of the scorched buildings for a second, trying to catch his breath. They came in short, mellow rasps, a side effect of running three miles in battle armor.

His men behind him were equally as exherted, though not exhausted. They'd trained to do things like that, but they simply needed a breather.

The commander felt an uneasy cold throughout his body, especially in his chest, the effects of his body finally catching up with him. After a second or two of panting, he and his men were set once again.

They'd ran from the infraction zone a good three miles away at most, where a shuttle was being escorted by two fighters. Long range attacks had decimated the anti-fighter defenses surrounding the base they were at now.

Or it was once a base at least.

During the initial attack on Abregado-rae by the Empire, several locations were scorched or burned out so that Sovereign personnel inside could not put up any kind of resistance. Militias did much the same thing.

The entire planet had been turned upside down by this whole situation. The lines of good and bad had simply gone out the window, the only problem was, the Empire was still digging itself deeper into a hole by trying to point fingers.

At least the civilians had come to accept that no one was here for the people, they were here to destroy each other.

That had been Admiral Me'Vere's major speech before the battle. Reminding all to remember that the goal of this attack was not to free the "persecuted civilians who lived there", but to take the Empire off, so they may live in peace once more.

Even now the persons on the ground were beginning to realize that having the Empire there meant, much like having the Outer Rim Sovereignty there, would lead to some kind of battle. The only way to be sure that there would no longer be fighting, was to make sure both were gone.

And Captain Xiler's promises and negotiations had ensured that.

In exchange for that promise, they had willfully given over the locations and defenses of several nearby installations to the bordering cities outside the capitol.

Several cities, guarded by only a skeleton crew of stormtroopers and a handful of militia who were already disheartened, had fallen to the swift moving Outer-Rim marines who had landed from the Timeless and Icefire. They were not being held as much as they were being sat in.

The people there were now having an uneasy peace with the marines, each commander offering their assurances that during the major push against the capitol, they would stay no longer.

With that, the civilians, at least those who had lingered, were bought. The others had fled the urbanized areas when Xiler had given them the chance, and relief forces were now assisting them to live in quickly set up refugee camps for the extent of the battle.

It was better than the fourth-class, scorched houses belonging to alien owners who had been "removed" by the Empire.

Nevgarad lifted himself, cranking the hammer of his weapon and biting his lip. He looked at his men who were doing the same, getting ready for the charge.

"Okay men," he said quietly, "I'm going to go first, take a few quick shots at potential enemy hold ups, and then you follow. Understood?"

The squad, all twenty of them, confirmed.

The entire base was being surrounded and practically swarmed by marines, who were ready to absolutely pummel the Imperial positions.

Nevgarad closed his eyes and silently counted to three. When he reached the final number he spun around the wall, unleashing red shots at what he believed was a window. Red laser blasts shot back, the surviving troops who made it out alive of the initial orbital attacks.

He doved and rolled, the dirt flying up behind him where a laser bolt hit. When he got behind a piece of scrap, he got up into a crouch, resting his elbows onto it and opening fire.

Within a few seconds the entire base was lit up.

<hr>

James sighed slowly, depression and even fear weighing heavily into his mind. For going on...how long was it? A week, three weeks? A year?...he had been locked in here, unsure of his fate, unsure what the Empire would do to him.

Upon his capture they had interrogated him only once. He had offered no information in the first stage, or the second. By the time they were ready to do the third however, something had distracted them.

For days he'd been left completely alone. Sometimes they would bring in one of his troops, another prisoner of war, and then drag them off. He didn't know what they were doing to him, whether it be nothing or someting horrific. But what his mind manifested was the worst punishment of all.

They had said nothing to him.

Nothing at all.

And now there was something. The entire room lit up with the familiar sound of blaster shots, echoing off the walls, and red flashes of light were seen outside of his cell.

He climbed up onto his bed to get a better look.

<hr>

Captain Xiler's hands trembled slightly as he watched the holovid before him. He never liked ground combat, especially not observing it when he could do nothing.

Hordes of men running at one another, blasting at each other, unleashing hell in great waves. If a single piece of light hit someone it could be the end of them.

It was too dangerous for them to continue pounding from the air, and so targets had switched to Imperial bunkers that had been set up outside of the cities, now that their sensors were effectively exterminated.

The fleet's part of the fight was almost over. Even now the gunships were returning from their place near the atmosphere, setting up around the bigger ships in an anti-fighter screen, fully expecting Bhindi Drayson to enter at any time.

Xiler was not yet willing to admit that she was as much a coward as she showed herself to be.

A few footsteps against durasteel plating signified Tryke taking his place next to Xiler.

"Admiral Me'Vere has arrived sir..." he said, awe in his voice. Xiler nodded, unable to hide the grin from his face.

The sensors even showed the B-Wings and X-Wings already through the atmosphere, en route to the various battle scenes.

A hail was received from the second Allegiance Star Destroyer, as well as the Spartan.


<font size=1>Damage

<li>Imperial Sensors
<li>Most Imperial Soldiers
<li>Militias disbanding or destroyed
<li>Several outlying cities seized
<li>Ex-ground commander located and troops moving to seize

Total Forces

2 ASD, 2 ISD, 12 SC, 2 SCC, 3 BHC, 4 PAC, 10 CG, 60 SBOP
(95 Total)

<li>New Ones Have complete fighter manifests and troop manifests

Imperial-Class Star Destroyer Spartan

"At ease," Ralen remarked to the men and women who had jumped to their feet at attention upon his entering the room. With a quick and audible shuffle, they sat back down, taking their stations.

The admiral moved swiftly, his heavy black boots clanging down against the durasteel deck loudly against the sudden and near silence of the bridge.

Commodore Wells had awaited him with a full report of the situation, holding out the datapad before him while Admiral Me'Vere took up his position next to him.

He clasped it in a cold grip, lifting one of his gloved hands to press down on the buttons to scroll the text downward. Several images showed up, torn Imperial barrackses, decimated troop positions, wrecked walkers, and what they had thought was the Gencore Level II shield generator.

Which had turned out to be nothing more than a communications' dish erected in its stead.

Upon reading that part, he looked up curiously at the commodore, who apparently had been awaiting such an inquiry, offering him simply a shrug.

"No shield generator?" Ralen asked, curiousity and concern entering his tone. The commodore simply shook his head.

"No sir...we sent a scout team down there to figure it out, it looks like they completely uprooted it...the comms tower was put in hastily to fix the power link," he explained. Ralen let out a sigh, before a grin began to curl his lips.

Excellent indeed.

"Make sure Captain Xiler informs the populace that the Empire removed one of their only defensive structures in a start," he ordered, handing back the datapad.

Wells nodded, allowing a smirk to play his own lips.

"Helmsman," Ralen said, turning on his heels to face the coming lieutenant, "order fire control to focus on the third city to the east of the capitol. The people have been evacuated, and they seem to be giving our soldiers some trouble...blowing our shuttles out of the sky for instance."

The lieutenant stopped and saluted.

"Aye sir," he said, "it shall be done, anything else sir?"

"Yes...order the Blight to unleash all Hell on the military bases surrounding the location of Joren Arden. We have a report that enemy soldiers are beginning to move therein."

"Yes sir," the lieutenant said once more, giving another snap salute before breaking off to make his way down to fire control.

Ralen simply turned to watch the enormous Allegiance Star Destroyer...the Blight moving into position. A moment later, it and the other ships in the second task force opened up on their designated targets.

<hr>

Allegiance-Class Star Destroyer Timeless

Captain Xiler rubbed at his eyes, seemingly wiping away the blur that had set itself up after the thermal detonator trick. A good forty men had gone down, with at least two hundred wounded.

The men had been ordered to withdraw, the ground commander unwilling to sacrifice so many marines to other such devious tricks.

Looking down at the screen, Ralen watched the retaliation. The militia - those few Imperial influenced civilians who had stayed, being armed by the Empire while the rest had fled upon Xiler's warning - and Imperial infantry were bunkered up in whatever they could find.

Their last thermal detonater blast had almost leveled a very large portion of the city, turning it to rubble.

The B-Wing, escorted by two X-Wings, that flew over head only reduced that area to slag now, missiles smashing down onto Imperial held positions.

From above, the sight was grizzly. They could only detect signatures and did not get a full readout of what was going on. The outlines of figures, after a large flash of light, flew in every direction, mainly the militia who were not trained for this kind of fighting.

The Empire was using them as cannon fodder.

Xiler felt himself beginning to grow nervous. Though everything was on schedule and going according to plan, he could not deny the grim feeling he got when watching men suffer and/or die.

But this was war, and he was here to follow orders.

His Allegiance Star Destroyer opened up again, more red-gold blasts sprinting out toward a nearby communications tower to the capitol city.

Admiral Me'Vere had been relatively specific in his desire to keep as much equipment useful to the civilians up as possible, but the disruption of local communications from the capitol was an essential part of the attack.

Somewhere down there, an Imperial commander was coordinating his troops.

Hence why the admiral had stated that outland towers must be avoided if possible...but the heavily urbanized would be decimating in the original fire.

"Continue the pommel fire on the Imperial held locations, don't let up until we start getting surrenders, avoid civilians if possible," he ordered Tryke, who was standing at his side.

"And of Militia sir?" he inquired, his voice measuring and careful.

Xiler sighed heavily. "They have given up their rights as civilians. Defeat them, but spare their lives if you can."

<hr>

Space, the Abregado-rae System

From all sights it could be seen, the unrelenting blasts of two task forces, an entire fleet crushing the Imperial ground garrison.

The Imperial assessment was, at first, true. The defenders had the numerical advantage. However as the minutes passed on, and militia were beginning to see the futility of it all, cities were beginning to state their surrenders, numbers were dropping, and things were evening out.

Xiler could not deny his disappointment that Bhindi Drayson did not show up.

<hr>

Military Base/Joren Arden Holding Facility

Nevgerad lifted himself from the pile of rubble and ash, fallen chunks of debris and the like caused from the ensuing battle. But the Empire was being pushed back. Lifting his blaster to his shoulder, he shot several blasts, catching a running stormtrooper trying to make his way across what had been called "the courtyard". His body slumped to the ground lazily, sparks emitting from where the blasts had hit.

A near miss smashed into the piece of metal next to Nevgerad's head, throwing up sparks and shooting heat across the commander's cheek.

The Empire may have been pinned down, but they still posed a deadly threat. Imperial stormtroopers were well trained, well disciplined, and fanatically loyal. They would not give up easily.

Nevgerad watched as one of his men plucked up a grenade from his chest and tossed it. It soared through the air, whistling its electronic countdown before it smashed into a nest of stormtroopers, exploding in a brilliant flash of light and sending them flying through the air screaming.

His communicater ringed on his shoulder, and he reached up to touch the receive button.

"Nevgerad here," he said into the black microphone.

"What's your situation?" came the familiar voice of the petty officer aboard the Timeless. The two had been kept in close contact most of the operation.

"Extremely hostile, we have the Empire pinned down, but they're putting up a helluva fight. They still have two, repeat, two Imperial model anti-fighter defense units, do not land the shuttle, over."

"A little late for that, it's breaking atmosphere now, but look up, over."

Nevgerad blinked curiously and looked up as the crewman had ordered. A second later he heard the voom, and the X-Wing sped past, along with one other wingman.

The laser cannons, all four, screamed in their celestial delight as red blasts shot outward, crashing into the anti-fighter units. They took some retaliatory shots, but only managed to scrape the shields of one before they combusted, vomitting sparks in every direction.

The next X-Wing swooped down, pummeling the base itself with low powered weapons, blowing a hole in the prison compound wall. When all was good, it flew upward, spun around in a quick barrel roll, dived, and let loose one more fury of Hell, ending a series of the Imperial soldiers who had tried to put up the fight.

A moment later the shuttle landed just outside the base, and the Sovereign troops advanced.

<hr>

James Elidon had since taken a position underneath his bed, hoping not to get hit by incoming debris from various blasts. Imperial soldiers and stormtroopers had gone running by his cell on several occasions, yelling and hollering orders and commands.

For a moment he'd considered trying to escape, but he knew he would probably be a priority target.

So he sat there, waiting, as military training had taught him, in the most secure position away from the gunfire during a rescue.

The earth seemed to shake under his feet, as though the entire planet were being thrown off, after another blast, then another, then he heard a chorus of cheers and knew there had been an aerial strike.

Dust and ash had emitted throughout the entire room, making sight rather difficult. It was like a dense fog, though it stung his eyes.

The light in his room flickered a few times before finally going out. They had hit the power generator.

Someone was coordinating this strike very well.

Climbing out from under his bed, he was quickly grabbed under the arms. Unsure of what was going on, he did not resist. If it was the Empire then putting up a fight would be no use.

So he allowed himself to be taken.

<hr>

Imperial-Class Star Destroyer Spartan

Wells's footsteps heralded obviously pleased news, the pace being quicker than normal and yet still not a full run. Ralen simply watched the planet, and listened in to the various damage reports.

The Empire's overall garrison was weakening, at only a fraction of its former strength. More cities had stated their surrender, more than half now.

The militia did not want this carnage, and Xiler's promise that the Outer Rim Sovereignty would simply leave the planet was one they liked to hear. No more war, no more bloodshed.

That was exactly what they wanted.

The civilians who had evacuated the cities - and the prisoners who had surrendered in the ensuing chaos - were now being dined with small banquets, surrounded by friends and family.

Aliens were being reunited, brought from their meager, hardly surviveable conditions set forth by the xenophobic empire.

Everything was working perfectly.

If only Bhindi Drayson were not such a coward, perhaps he could take some glory from this field. There was very little in the slaughter of farmers with pitchforks.

Wells finally came up to the side of his commander, the grin on his face was obvious. Ralen turned to him, casting an inquisitive gaze.

"Yes Commodore?" he asked, trying to hide his own desire to know the news.

"The ground commander of our PoWs, he's been released and will be docking with Xiler's ship, the Timeless, in moments."

"No anti-fighter batteries have tried to take him down?" Ralen asked suspiciously.

"We wiped them all out sir...the Empire can't take them down, one of your objectives is complete sir."

Ralen nodded, a smile spreading his lips.

"Continue the assault."