The Rebel Faction

"Sir, the first recess begins in 30 minutes."

George Harrison immediately stood up and began to stride towards the door leading from the bridge. "Excellent, prepare my shuttle, I want to be on the ground when it begins. In the meantime the <i>Lynx</i> taskforce is to take up position with us."

"Aye, Captain."

Suddenly a commotion came from the communications console as another report came in.

"Sir, we have reports that the Stormtroopers have begun firing on the crowd. Stun blasts only, but they're still firing."

Harrison smiled, "It's good to see that our Imperial Comrades are operating true to form. I want an update on what happened, the second I land."

"Yes sir."

<center>****</center>

<b>Medical Examiner's Office-Bandomeer</b>

"Dr. Zufelts, I'm Inspector Larson. I understand that you have been assigned to this case."

Dr. Zufelts had spent over 30 years working as a Medical Examiner. In that time he'd gained quite a reputation as one of the best on the planet and he'd helped solve a number of cases. None of them had been as important as this though.

"What we have here is the body of what is suspected to be an Imperial Agent captured outside the Plaza of the Rising Sun. Cause of death is blood loss due to shrapnel. The victim is very fit, in his late 20s, 6 feet tall and around 190 pounds...

Even though Inspector Larson had been a police officer for many years but he'd never quite gotten used to the sight of death and blood. The matter of fact way in which Zufelts went about this procedure made him vaguely sick so he decided to go off in search of a caf machine and a nice comfy chair.

<b>20 Minutes Later</b>

"Inspector Larson I have some results for you."

Larson looked up from the current events magazine he'd been reading, though current wasn't exactly an appropriate term seeing as the magazine was 3 months old. He'd settled down in an austere waiting room that was like the type that could be found anywhere all over the galaxy. Dr. Zufelts was know standing there holding a datapad.

"What did you find Doctor?"

"There was very little that was unusual about this man besides for his obvious fitness. I took fingerprints and a blood sample and there is no record of him arriving on Bandomeer. However, I noticed some flecks of something in his nasal cavity that I extracted and examined. It's pollen from a Delaphid tree. This tree is only found on one planet in the galaxy, as it has proven highly resistant to being transferred to different planets. The planet is Corellia."

"Is there anyway to determine how long the pollen had been there?"

"Well I checked and the Delaphid trees would have only started producing airborne pollen in the last two weeks. So sometime within the last 14 days."

"Thank you Doctor, you have been most helpful."

Inspector Larson took the datapad offered by the Doctor and began to stride towards his waiting speeder. On the way there he grabbed his comlink and called the information exchange at the Police Headquarters. Within moments he had a list of everywhere the <i>Stormhawk</i> had beeen on his datapad. It only took a few moments to confirm that the <i>Stormhawk</i> had spent 5 days over Corellia in the past two weeks and that the crew had received free time. As Larson began to power up his speeder he thought that things were falling into place quite nicely.

<center>****</center>

George Harrison strode into the Bandomeerian Senate Chambers accompanied as always by his coterie of Aides. Things were just wrapping up and the first recess was about to begin but George was focusing more on the datapad in front of him. Two numbers kept popping up again, 500 and 3. The first was the number of people stunned by the stormtroopers outside the Grand Hotel, the second was the number of those people who had been killed. Stun blasters were useful tools but they weren't 100 percent perfect. Occasionally they had deadly, disastrous results and unfortunately three people had paid the price. Even though the majority of the people outside the Grand Hotel had left, the news that the Imperial Stromtroopers had fired on the crowd had been more than enough to spark even more people to come out on the side of the Coalition. These new protestors however had decided to come to the Senate, where at least they could be assured that they wouldn't be shot at. The numbers had switched decisively outside the senate with more and more people rushing there to support the Coalition side.

<b>10 Hours until the Vote</b>

OOC:Let's try to be quick about this Kach I dont have much time left.

One-hundred kilometers south of the Capital


Two Hours Later…


“ Good morning, sir.”


Major-General Joachim Griffon smiled tightly, amused. The first words directed at him when he arrived at his rather luxurious command post did not presage some looming disaster or intimate a failure on the part of command and control. Rather, from the situational analyses he glanced over while descending in his Sentinel-class Shuttle, all preliminary objectives had been attained.


No operational plan survives contact with the enemy. The Chief of the Imperial General Staff made a cameo appearance the first day of training at the staff course, post-Academy, and spewed a series of expressions and phrases from the annals of military history. Some of his colleagues had fixated on sayings of duty and honour, but not young Joachim. Simply quotations that summarized two years of grueling Staff work just to wear the broad crimson trouser stripe taught him what he needed to be effective - then he returned to field command with all haste.


“ Good morning, Colonel. An excellent location, this. My compliments.”


“ Thank you sir, it’s approximately a hundred-fifty years old, modeled on late-Republic Gothic. It belongs to the lord of the estate who offered it to us.”


The General smiled again, removing his black leather gloves and field-grey great-coat. Officers and men were rushing about, most General Staff officers of the 450th Panzergrenadier Division, others field officers delivering reports or demanding answers. Bundles of wires ran along hardwood floors linking portable communications equipment together, effectively turning almost every room on the first of the three-level home into an opulent command center.


Colonel Epsom, a refined Raltiiran, sneered as they passed a Corellian tapestry, showing the marked disdain natives of the satellite-Academy world had for anything from that system. “ The landings went off smoothly in all locations. Infantry and light armor arrived first with dropships bringing down the Panzer and Walker battalions after. The repulsor-tanks are still marshalling but most of the infantry-Walkers are en-route to their targets.”


“ And the capital?”


“ The 900th Regiment is moving as a group up the east-west highway a battalion of the 901st is standing by. We’ve commandeered two of the dropships - three companies will be lifted in when the relief column gets to within twenty kilometers of the city to effect an efficient seizure.”


“ Very good, Colonel, very good indeed. And what of resistance?”


The Colonel looked down at his chrono. “ As per your orders, all communications have been blanketed until a transfer of power is secured. Some units have refused to engage, some have fought instantly. All military bases within five hundred kilometers of the capital have been surrounded or given orders to stand-down. Most have armed and defended themselves but have stood -off from active engagement.”


“ As expected. That means the worst has yet to happen. Our reserve is very small - 4,000 men of the Fleet Assault Corps brigade attached to us. We will react when it does, but not provoke it if possible. We must also be ready for a Coalition response. Another reason the armor has not yet been committed en masse. Colonel - has the other matter been concluded yet?”


“ It has.”

Eight hours earlier


The large freighter exited hyperspace at a decent distance from the planet. Though not in his customary transportation (the Nightstalker was in for repairs), the commander had no desire to tangle with whatever enemy might be nearby. At least not yet.

Wesley Vos, head of a new company of Special Forces, stood on the bridge. One would imagine the thoughts that might be running through his mind. He had been ordered from Coruscant as soon as the Coalition had arrived at Bandomeer, just in case his services were needed. They hadn't even had time to recall their TIE Defenders from the refitting docks before they launched into hyperspace. So now he was stuck with two squadrons of TIE Phantoms - good craft for their specific work of stealth missions, but vastly inferior to the Defender in terms of straight-up combat. At least the other two squadrons were intact.

The thoughts running through Wes's mind, though, were far from normal. One might expect a reflective attitude from a commander who was potentially about to enter a battle with an unknown number of the enemy, in fighters that were less-than-superior. One might expect those thoughts from a common man. But Wes was not common.

I've got to think of a better name for my company, he thought as the blue and white streaks faded back to pinpricks of light. Special Forces is too long, too much of a tongue twister. Something quick, an easy reference.

He turned to the ensign at the communications console. "Have the squadrons assemble in the briefing room, ASAP." Instructions given, he strode quickly for the turbolifts.


Thirty minutes later


"Here's the situation," Wes said. He stood behind a small podium in the briefing room, his forty-eight Special Forces men seated before him. They hadn't even had a chance before the jump to know what was going on. They knew little more even now. Wes hoped to remedy the situation as much as he could.

"What we know so far is that a diplomatic mission to Bandomeer has turned sour thanks to the Coalition. Wonderful buggers, aren't they? We're not sure if hostilities have broken out yet or not, but we expect something to happen any time now. If Kach Thorton doesn't start something, the Coalition will for sure. We're here to ensure an Imperial victory. We might get to do some sabotage along with that. Might even get to kill a few GC, too." That would be a welcome prospect. After their losses on Coruscant to GC agents, the entire unit was thirsting for Coalition blood. Except the replacements, of course. And they'd even caught some of the fervor.

"For now, we sit tight. Black and Red Squadrons, I want you in the simulators. You'll be flying Phantoms here, and I want you as ready as possible. Gray and Green, get some rest. You'll be our primary defense should things go sour in space. Any questions?"

A voice called out from the back. Wes had never been a big proponent of the spit-and-polish regulations of the military, and he didn't enforce the rules too much on his men. Order, yes, discipline, yes, but some things he saw as a waste of time. Like the Private who was addressing his commanding officer without so much as a sir. "So, basically we're gonna kick some Coalition butt?"

Wes had to smile at the candor of the young man. It was one of the replacements in Green Squadron - Green Four. His predecessor had been killed by a sniper in a Coruscant prison detention block.

"Not necessarily," he replied. "At least not yet. They haven't started anything yet, and neither will we. If hostilities should break out, though..." He paused for effect. "Then send them straight to hell."

He stepped back from the podium. "If there's nothing else, then dismissed." As the men began to move, Wes pulled Jaxon Bates, Black Leader, aside. Wes and Jaxon had been friends since the Academy, and Wes trusted his second-in-command's judgment on most issues. They began talking logistics as they headed back for the bridge.


Six hours later


"Black Squadron, Red Squadron, form up on me. We'll maintain comm silence on the way in and hopefully land undetected. Transmitting landing coordinates now." Wes sent the information and flipped off his comm unit. Far from cursing his luck at being stuck with TIE Phantoms, he was now praising whatever gods there were for blessing him. The ships were perfect for an undetected landing.

Their mission had been transmitted only a few minutes after they had linked with the fleet, about thirty minutes ago. They had assembled quickly and launched the two squadrons of Phantoms. Now it was time to head in.

Wes pointed his nose towards the glowing planet below and engaged the ion engines. In the vacuum of space, only a slight whine was heard. The Phantom was designed as a stealth craft. If the ships even registered on Coalition scanners, Wes would be amazed.


Present


The flight to the planet had been uneventful. They had even slipped through a small bit of Bandomeer traffic above a major metropolis nearly unseen. By the time they got within twenty klicks of the president's summer home, though, alarms had begun to sound. Wes knew that wouldn't be a problem much longer though. Apparently there was already a team on the planet tasked with silencing that nuisance.

It didn't take long to cover the remaining distance to the residence. Wes was the first fighter down, leaping out as quickly as possible to keep from being shot. His modified E-11, set to stun, was out and belching rounds quickly. Wes personally accounted for four guards before Black Squadron subdued the rest. Red Squadron made one more pass, then landed beside their comrades.

Quickly issuing orders, Wes sent the Reds around to the backdoor while he accompanied Black Squadron to the front. The door was locked, but a simple kick was all it took to send the obstacle flying into the atrium of the old pre-Empire-era home. A few guards put up resistance, but a few stun bolts made short work of them. Apparently the president didn't have as much concern for his family as General Griffon had thought.

Another crash resounded through the building, and Wes knew Red Squadron was inside as well. The Special Forces unit moved quickly through the building, easily subduing what little resistance was offered. They soon reached the top floor of the old home, where they found the president's family sitting quietly. At the sight of the Imperial uniforms, the woman drew back in what seemed like horror, but the young children were instantly awed by the armor and weapons of the men.

Wes approached the president's wife and removed his helmet. "Ma'am," he began, "I'm Captain Wesley Vos of His Majesty’s Imperial Special Forces. Coalition agents have infiltrated your world and are plotting an assassination of your husband and yourself. For your safety, I ask that you accompany me back to our command ship. Your husband will meet you there."

The entire story was a lie, of course. Coalition agents hadn't infiltrated, at least not to Wes's knowledge, and they most certainly didn't have an assassination plot. But his demeanor was so sincere, so polite and courteous that the woman was easily drawn in by the ploy. She nodded her assent, and Wes asked, "Do you have a personal shuttle here?" Another nod. "A pilot?"

She actually responded this time. "I am the pilot. I can fly the shuttle as good as my husband."

"Good," Wes said. "Then we'll escort you back to the Stormhawk. Let's go."

The men turned an left the building, heading for their fighters. As they took off, Coalition men could be seen coming down the road for the city. The president's wife, when she saw them, immediately remembered the assassination plot story and increased her speed. The Imperials headed back towards the command ship at full speed. The shuttle soon landed in the bay, four of the Phantoms accompanying it. The remaining fighters made their way back the the Nightstalker. Wes, Jaxon, Cendar Robutha, and Grimmel Correl met the president's wife and children at the bottom of the shuttle ramp and escorted them to the waiting arms of Thorton.

"Black Wing, we've got bogey's on screen."


"Rodger that, Red Leader, I see them."


"This is Green Leader, I've got twelve of them."


"Black Wing, Red Wing, Green Wing, this is Stormhawk space control. You are cleared to engage enemies, repeat, you are cleared to engage the enemy's."


"Thank you, Space Control. Black Wing, this is Black Leader, let's clear the sky's above the Hotel!"


He was a man of the deadliest nature- a true professional. He served the Empire because he loved it. He did his duty because it was the Empire's will. He would gladly sacrifice himself for it- man was mortal, but the state was eternal. Was there a more glorious way to die?


He was ruthless. He was efficient. He was a true believer in the system.


He was a model Imperial.


And a clone of Baron Fel, one of the few left from the Thrawn era.


"Missile Lock," the TIE Defenders computer reported to him.


"Arm them," he replied. The voice recognition system the craft possessed was one of it's best features, it eased the pilot's work load considerably. It was an advantage few other fighters possessed. Older craft, such as X-wings and early TIEs, required the pilot's hands to be off the controls constantly, and his eyes off of the view port.


Another useful advantage was the helmet mounted HUD. Wherever he turned his head, useful targeting, performance, and misc data was displayed in the sides of his eyes, projected there by lasers. Right now there was a red square around one of the fighters ahead of him, flying rings above the Senate. If the pilot knew he, and the rest of Black Wing, were here, he wasn't showing it.


He knew his other seventy-one pilots had a missile lock on that craft or one of it's companions.


"For the glory of our Emperor, fire your Torpedoes!"




As he stepped up the ramp into the Svelte-class shuttle that would take him back to his flagship, Kach took a brief look at the sky. Above, six squadrons of TIE Defenders dueled against twelve Coalition snubfighters desperately trying to hold their valuable position, but the heavily stacked numbers towards the Imperials was easily giving them the advantage- every time a Coalition ship dodged one craft another was on it's tail. He knew the same scene was being repeated over both the senate and Plaza of the Rising Sun, where more TIE Defenders danced their deadly dance with their outnumbered adversaries.

Receiving word of his flight, one squadron swooped down to escort him back to the Stormhawk.

"Fly quickly," he instructed the pilot, "I have a meeting with the President to attend, and it would not be very courteous of me to be late."




(Video appearance, 23 minutes after the beginning of hostilities between the Galactic Empire and Serenno)


"My people... You have no idea how happy I am to contact you, especially in such dire times. For my own protection, I have chosen to accept the protection of the New Order and Commodore Thorton. Even as we speak I am protected from the Coalition attackers within the nearly invincible Stormhawk. I am safe here. It is yourselves you should be worried about.


"The New Galactic Coalition has betrayed it's own supposedly peaceful values by attacking our world, and the Empire has chosen to activate our right of Imperial Protection. As an Imperial World, it is one we are allowed to exercise freely.


"Seven minutes ago, I signed a declaration of allegiance to the Empire for our beautiful world. Using the emergency powers granted to me in the Constitution whenever our world is in a dire situation, I have bypassed the usual Senate approval in order that the hostilities may cease.


"As for the military, I order an immediate cession of hostilities against the Empire, who were merely acting for our own defense and mistakenly attacked, and order you to instead engage the Coalition invaders.

"I pray for nothing but peace. And sometimes desperate times call for desperate measures. This is nothing but another of those times. Our world has been through such before, and certainly will again. But, my people, This to shall pass. Life will go on. Please, go on as you always have, and this will only be over much sooner."

Pressing the "Stop Transmission" button, the President pulled himself away from the microphone. He hadn't wanted to order something like that, but it was necessary for the good of the planet he'd sworn to protect and lead.

There was a dark chuckle from the other side of the room, and through a doorway stepped a grinning Kach Thorton. "Very good, Mr. President. It was necessary for Bandomeer."


Meanwhile, on board the bridge of the Raptor-class Assault Cruiser Pernicious

She was a superb vessel, there was no question of it. Her powerful shields and weapons made her, in theory, capable of taking on ships twice her size. Her power core and distribution system, stated to be one of the most efficient and powerful in the galaxy for a ship of it's class, was certainly second to none. And her crew were all highly trained and motivated for their duty- war.

On the inside, her decks were spotless, her equipment well maintained. Crewers performed their duties punctually, and everything ran like clockwork.

But, when was their a ship in the fleet, her crew untested by combat, who wasn't so?

Captain Heinrich Schneider snapped out of his thoughts as the junior grade lieutenant before him repeated what he'd just said.

"Sir, the Multi-XMAP has verified the Navi computers calculations, the Hyperdrive charge has been built up to an adequate level, and guns and shields are ready to go. All that is left to do now is for you to give the order to assault."

For a moment he concentrated on what the young, brown haired man had said, and then the long haired blond man (he had been allowed to retain his long hair without discharge when he refused to cut it because of his prowess at fleeting), and then strode forward in perfect stride. The bridge was silent, all eyes on him. It was so silent he could hear his footsteps echoing around the bridge.

And then he looked through the forward view port.

Their target, the Bakura-class Star Destroyer tagged as Pancake-12, was only about 325 kilometers away- a mere speck of light at this distance, but close enough some of the untested crew were getting nervous. In his tranquil state he could feel a blast of cold air on his neck, coming down from the ventilation system above him.

If he gave the order, he could very well trigger an intergalactic war, even though the request to remove the invading Coalition ship from his planet's orbit was made by the Coalition President.

But it was his duty. To the Empire.

"Go, do it," he muttered softly. But in the silence of the bridge- combined with the acoustic properties of the bridge's shape meant to allow crewers to hear all orders without voice amplification- it was enough.

They were off, the Pernicious's sister ship, the Vindicator only a second or two behind.

And then they were right behind the target, a Bakura's blind spot, the Hyperdrive having followed the Yevethina Hyperspace Microjump system's instructions to the letter.

"Train Ion Cannons on them, and hold current relative position," he ordered, merely for ceremony's sake, since they all knew what to do, "Hold fire unless they make a clear move to fire upon us."


At the moment, Kach was feeling very accomplished. The invasion, while far from complete, was going along much better than one could ordinarily expect from such a venture.

The president, having surrendered his world to the lesser of two evils, but surrendered it none the less, didn't appear to be so joyed. He was a tool of the Empire's now, and he knew it.

And so this was how they felt when they received the message from the Speaker, now one of Bandomeers two presidents, an event that had never happened in the history of the world, and really nothing more than a historical curiosity since it would have no effect on the event's outcome.

"Honored Commodore," the slim, brunette figure that appeared on the Command deck's holonet pad spoke, adding a slight formal bow to emphasize the word "honored." "I address you today on the pressing matter of my world and it's future.

"I will be brief. I have a proposition. As the newly sworn in president," (the current president, hearing this, suddenly made a "bullshit" face), "I will order my army to stand down and allow the Galactic Empire to occupy my world if it agrees to and complies to the following terms. The deal is this: me, as well as any citizens who wish to, will be permitted to leave the planet and go to Coalition space and from their any destination of their choosing. The Coalition has generously offered to transport these refugees at it's own expense, you merely must allow them to leave. After they have departed on our own ships and Coalition ones, the planet is yours.

"I look forward to your response to my proposal, and pray that my deity as well as yours, if you have one, may bless our negotiations and make them fruitful." She almost grimaced, holding her composure only with the sheer will of a trained, expert diplomat as she spoke the next and final line, "Gloria Imperium, Long Live Emperor Hyfe!"


Everything was silent. Then the original president spoke, almost screaming, "Bullshit! Commodore, call that bitch up and tell her That I am still alive and very much in charge of my planet.

Kach smiled. He was, and would continue to be, a very useful tool.

"Now, now," he spoke softly, in a quiet, devilish voice of a person very much in control of the situation. "Since she plans on leaving the planet, she will not be president much longer, will she? All you must do is wait until the Coalition has left, and then it will be yours once again, though your title will be Governor, not President, and there will be no pesky Senate under you.

"Now, Communications, send this pretend President a counteroffer. Tell her that once she calls off her forces, she will be permitted to leave along with that bastard Harrison. Tell her negotiation is not acceptable, this is our final offer, and that continuation of the already pathetic resistance will only hurt her planet in the short and long term.

"Also, tell her she has thirty minutes to respond to my offer or we will go all out, because playtime is finished. I am done being merciful."


Troops ready for war, the tear down of the Grand Hotel command center took far less time than it'd taken to set it up. The fifteen hundred troops it contained were now marching out of it. The equipment that had been inside just half an hour ago was now halfway to orbit on part of the Imperial Flotilla's complement of landing craft.

This left the troops and marines free for their new objective, the Senate.

But not to capture the Senators, or execute Coalition supporters, but to keep it secure.

True details sketchy and rumors abundant, the crowd outside the building was approaching a riot level of disorder and dissatisfaction. If any sort of deal was to be carried out, they would have to keep everything orderly until the crowd could be dispersed by Bandomeerian security officials.

Just as well, nobody other than authorized Imperial officials would be leaving it anytime soon, either.

Terren Cole was one of a new breed of pilot. Most pilots fought in a fighter, he fought in a simulator. Some pilots looked down upon him and others like him but there was no difference in their jobs, each one of them was charged with destroying the enemy. The only difference he could see was that men like him had a far higher survival rate. Today he was in charge of Aleph 7 one of the fighters orbiting the Grand Hotel. He knew that there was a good chance that he would be shot down, a force as weak as his had little function other than as bait. He also knew however that he would almost definitely return home alive. As he orbited the Grand Hotel at nearly minimum power he suddenly heard a keening in his headset.

"Attention, Aleph Squadron I have multiple missile locks. It looks like the Imperials have come to play."

Immediately he heard the voice of Aleph Squadron's Flight Controller on the <i>Lynx</i> in his headset.

"Attention all squadrons on deck duty, you have multiple incoming bogies, estimated at 7 wing strength I repeat 7 wings. Bogies are launching missiles. Evasion pattern Charlie I repeat, Charlie. Aleph, Omega and Delta squadrons are ordered to reduce altitude before evasion."

Terren grimaced as he slowly eased off on his repulsorlift controls bringing his fighter down to mere tens of meters over the Grand Hotel meanwhile the fighter squadrons orbiting over the approaching brigade made a similar maneouver. Evasion pattern Charlie was a maneouver that was designed to take advantage of an E-78's superior speed and mobility. Unfortunately it required perfect timing. Luckily the situation was perfect for it and the all the pilots had practiced it many times.

As the missiles came screaming through the air at the E-78's none of them began any obvious evasion maneouver, the TIE Defenders were attacking from up top, normally an excellent idea but in this case one that would have disastrous consequences for the Imperials. As the missiles approached the E-78's each fighter slowed and oriented itself so that it was pointing straight out from a common center. Then mere seconds before impact each fighter slammed open the throttles and the fighters accelerated away from the center accelerating at an astonishing rate. Meanwhile the missiles which had been accelerating rapidly downwards aided not only by their engines but also gravity began to alter their course. In the case of the squadron's over the Grand Hotel and the approaching brigade some of these missiles, those at the back of the pack, suceeded in their attempt and began large turns to follow the E-78's. In the case of the vast majority of the missiles though, there simply wasn't enough time. Physics and gravity had finally caught up to them. In these cases the missiles hammered straight down into the ground, in this case, the Grand Hotel and the Imperial Brigade. As the E-78's over the Grand Hotel and the Imperial Brigade flew away from the scene with missiles in pursuit, they left behind huge explosions decimating the Imperial ground units stationed there.

Terren grinned as his rear sensors reported the explosion. He still had one missile on his tail but his speed was great enough that there was no way the missile could catch up with him before it ran out of fuel. The grin faded however as he noticed that there were less friendlies on the sensor board then before. Fully one third of his squadron had failed to make it away. Right know four of his squadmates were slouching in their simulator seats and beginning to open up the hatches on their simulators, but they were alive which is a bonus for any man or woman who serves in the military. As Terren continued to accelerate away from the Grand Hotel he still had the TIE Defenders on his tail to worry about but his sensors told him that the distance between him and his pursuers was steadily increasing, the TIE Defenders could not keep up with the superior speed of his fighter.

At every instance where the TIE Defenders attacked the E-78's a number of the E-78's managed to evade the missile fire and also evade the oncoming TIE Defenders. Losses were higher for the squadrons orbiting the Senate and the Plaza of the Rising Sun because of the higher altitude involved but still 50 percent of the fighters who had been sent on deck duty were still flying when the latest order came from the <i>Lynx</i>.

"All squadrons on deck duty this is <i>Lynx</i> Control regroup 5 kilometers east of the city, reinforcements are on the way."

The key to a good fighter pilot is situational awareness. It is okay to pursue your target, and pursue it aggressively but never to the extent to which you leave yourself open to attack from other forces. Orbiting Bandomeer were two Stryker class Carriers. Each carrier contained a total of 25 squadrons of fighters, that is to say 300 fighters. Escorting the two Carriers was a squadron(12) of Bird of Prey mk III's. In total there were 744 E-78 Strike Fighters orbiting Bandomeer. 7 squadrons of those fighters had been orbiting the city and were attacked by a large number of Imperial fighters. Unfortunately those fighters had ignored the rest of the E-78s. A fatal mistake to be sure.

As the fighters that had survived the initial attack began to regroup with the TIE Defenders in distant pursuit 25 squadrons of E-78's left the main group protecting the Capital ships and began their own attack run. Accelerating to a speed of 200 MGLT they screamed through the atmosphere heading directly towards the TIE Defenders. Learning from the mistakes of the TIE Pilots they made a point of spreading out and approaching from a variety of angles. They then each fired all of their micro-concussion missiles, set to home in on the infrared targets provided by the TIE Defenders. The E-78's are far smaller and create a far smaller infrared target hence there was no need to worry about friendly fire. Over 3,000 concussion missiles zoomed in towards the TIE Defenders while 25 squadrons of E-78's followed the missiles in lasers blasting away.

<b>Senate</b>

"Ma'am, you heard what Captain Thorton said and you also heard the message by President Starsky. It is evident that Captain Thorton plans on taking this world and he will suceed. I do not have the resources at present to prevent him that prize. I understand that you do not want to leave your people but you must. I suggest that you create a Bandomeerian government-in-exile. The Coalition would be more than glad to provide a home for you as would a number of other unaffiliated planets."

The President sighed and slouched her shoulders looking clearly defeated.

"How many people can you take?"

"Captain Thorton will not give us unlimited time therefore we only have time for one group. I can take 100.

"Alright, get the Cabinet and all the major members of the senate who are willing to come. I want the 100 most powerful people in this compound who are willing to leave ready to go in 10 minutes."

"Yes ma'am."

Ten minutes later Captain Harrison surveyed the scene as he saw men and woman board shuttles carrying nothing more than the clothes on their backs and a few things like their datapads. They looked defeated but he could tell that they had the ability to fight back and that they would fight back against the Imperials who were threatening to destroy their entire way of life.

Within minutes he was onboard the <i>Pride of Iridonia</i> receiving an update on the fighter battle below.

"Sir all of our troops have been recovered. No Coalition or commonwealth personel remain on Bandomeer. We still have some fighters engaged in a major dogfight with Imperial forces."

"Order all fighters to retreat as soon as they find themselves free of the dogfight. Meanwhile order the computing of a hyperspace jump to Commonwealth Space."

"Yes sir, and the cruisers trailing us?"

"They won't fire upon us unless we make an aggressive action. We're retreating, they've clearly won, why risk their own lives?"

"Yes sir."