The Rebel Faction

A trio of cruisers and six gunboat escorts vectored toward one of the Victory's, the Hyfe's Fist, as it moved behind the Titan. It had been taking a fairly heavy pounding and it's shields were fluctuating, though it was by no means in danger yet. But it's move of putting the larger Imperial class vessel between them and itself, a move normally used when in danger of succumbing to fire, was calculated to deceive. As the Cruisers approached the other Victory, the Pride of the Empire moved out from behind the Titan and unleashed a storm of concussion missiles at the cruisers from it's eighty missile tubes, a salvo that would make an Imperial Star Destroyer wince.

Watching it reposition itself on the bridge was Griz, who observed the battle with a cool collectiveness in an effort to stay one step ahead of the enemy.

Like some of the most brilliant commanders who ever lived, including Thrawn himself, that man loved to micromanage things.

"Green squadron, watch behind you, those E-wings look like they've got an eye or two in your direction."

"Acknowledged," their leader commed back, reorienting his TIE Interceptor so it's flight path would take it around the ships. But the maneuver took place a moment too late. The trio E-wings broke off their pursuit of a TIE Fighter and turned towards them...

...Only to get blown to space-dust a few seconds later as a flight of the Titan's TIE Defender squadron pulled behind them and opened fire.

Kris smiled. The True Empire was in good hands with Griz, good hands indeed.

Bandomeer
From, "A New Kind of War," post by Telan Desaria

Meanwhile


Gunnery Sergeant Thomas was not one for subtlety, even if the situation called for it. He was not a massive man, nor was he physically imposing. His chin was round, his stature under one and three-fourth meters, and build lithe and lean. Small though his frame was, his muscles were honed and his speed astounding. Many non-commissioned officers of the Fleet Assault Corps and the Army prided themselves on being mountains of strength - Sergeant Thomas was fast. Fast enough that the twenty men in black uniforms and black body armor were struggling to keep up with him.


New kids never like the stairs. Hell, I hated them too. Alarms had sounded all over the capital when word of the Imperial landings had spread, though reports went unconfirmed. The Navy had seen to it that all communications were jammed, runners and fast repulsorlift vehicles being the only reliable methods of transport. Elevators were shut down and security tightened, making the exfiltration planned difficult. But the FAC SERT loves a challenge.


After several long minutes spent climbing the stairs, the executive level was reached. One soldier that had been on guard had been neutralized by an exquisitely-positioned sniper before the special emergency response team began its ascent. The men moved over the body and into the corridor, content in the knowledge that his only qualm with them would be a horrible head-ache - he had been stunned.


“ Intruder Alert!”


The scream was inevitable and weapons were quickly upholstered as a result. Safeties were switched off and cover sought, but not before a shower of bluish bolts sprayed the room, felling almost all of the assembled courtiers and guards. The few that had ducked fired back with the full measure of lethality they could measure, Lance Corporal Endstrum lying dead on the ground as a testament to their volley. Discipline held, however, and stunn shots were all that replied.


“ Enough!” Gunnery Sergeant Thomas, sprawled on the floor, had grown impatient in the thirty seconds he held that position. From his belt was unhooked a flash-bang which went flying towards the lone-defender’s position. It exploded, sending sparks flying everywhere and filling the room with a disorienting flash and crash. As the ensign stumbled to his feet he was sent reeling to the floor, where he would remain for the better part of six hours unless revived.


“ Alpha Team, on me!”


Thomas moved with half of his men forward, through a series of officers and antechambers until only a set of locked doors barred their path from their goal. It was broken down with ease. Amber blaster bolts greeted the intruders, killing another team member who was slow to stand aside. Another flash bang was unhooked, tossed it, and followed up with a spray of stun shots that quickly quieted the plain-clothes defenders of the President, Mr. Starsky.


“ Mr. President?”


Hiding from behind a desk, the man stood to met his fate with all the dignity a politician could muster. His composure struck a chord with the Sergeant, who stood just a hair taller out of respect. “ You’ve come to kill me?”


The Gunnery Sergeant laughed. “ No - we’re here to rescue you. Your men are fine, they’ve been stunned. I haven’t the time to explain but you’re being taken into protective custody to safeguard you from Coalition reprisals.”


“ I doubt the Coalition would - “


“ I don’t care. What they will do or won’t do, that’s for you high-up types. I’ve been told to bring you back to the Stormhawk and that’s what I’m going to do. Period.”


Reluctantly, the President was moved to the roof where a Raptor transport awaited, a flight of Defenders running cover around it. Shots were absorbed coming from the streets below, but small arms could do little damage to space-faring ships. The team boarded with its charge and left Serenno, the TIEs wiggling their wings in salute as they flew over the Plaza of the Rising Sun. Goaded, the Coalition soldiers fired into the air but only a fit hits left carbon scoring on the grey-painted struts and black solar panels.


President Starsky was met in the launch bay by the task force commander, Thorton. Sergeant Thomas and his men slipped away to a nearby office and each one enjoyed his allotment of lum. A toast to the fallen - may we avenge them!

Taken from the 'Imperial Daily' Newspaper, page A10, by Ron Burgundy

Coruscant- It has been a tense day within the Imperial Food and Drug Administration headquarters as shipments from a number of agricultural worlds- primarily located in the Lahara Sector- have gone overdue without without any sort of message or explanation from the senders. Repeated attempts to contact the worlds- both by subspace and holonet communications- have failed.

Sources within the Imperial Navy have informed us a scout squadron has been sent out to check up on the planets and to get them back on schedule. However, no information was given on the commander, make up of the force, or the estimated time of arrival at their destinations.

Already, people have begun speculating on what is going on. A team, sent to a middle class apartment building, interviewed residents.

"I've heard this was coming," a Mrs. Dora Wilhelm told us. "The Lahara Sector worlds are going on strike to raise food prices."

With foodstuff prices having gone down just under ten percentage points in the last two and a half months due to increased output by Imperial-controlled Agriworlds, this idea certainly makes since. However, it was not the only opinion, not even the most common one. The next two were without a doubt the most common opinion expressed on the issue.

"The Coalition, I have not doubt about it," one person interviewed (who has chosen to remain anonymous). "After that 'State of the Coalition' speech earlier this year, it was obvious they were going to make a move against us soon. They don't have the numbers to go head to head with us, so they've instead decided to starve us into submission."

Running a close second was the inevitable, "Imperial expansion, and not a moment too soon. If the Coalition had taken those worlds goodness knows what we would do."

Imperial Fleet and Army leaders have refused to comment on the situation.