<font color="#999999">Muunilist City, Muunilist

The Planetary Government Building was one of the dominating monoliths in Muunilist City’s skyline. It was the New Order’s way of letting the citizens know who was protecting their well being, and that they should be thankful for it. With all the other squabbling “governments” in the galaxy, it could be much worse for them. Even worse than the sad condition the New Order found them in. The people had no real form of government and instead were controlled by large, bloated corporations, defended by private armies driven by dwindling corporate funds, and had been in an economic depression since the end of the Galactic Civil War which made poverty the norm. Yes, the New Order was Muunilist’s saving grace. There were other worlds in the galaxy that were suffering like Muunilist had suffered. The New Order’s intent was to aid those planets in their time of great need, once the various Imperial Intelligence agents spread around the galaxy had identified them.

As Bren Stian ascended the turbolift in the Planetary Government Building to receive his next assign, he wondered if it was one of these observations missions. Twenty of these observation missions were going on all the time. Once one had ended, another needed to take its place. Who ever had been assigned to Teth was due to return to their home in the next few standard days, which meant another agent needed to place into one.

The turbolift doors opened with a faint hiss. Bren walked down the sanitized durasteel corridor; each click his boots made echoed up and down it. To one who hadn’t been working in these, usually empty, building for at least a standard year, the echoed clicking would have been maddening. Bren welcomed it. It gave him a sense of normality.

He walked past several doors before stopping at one. He withdrew a key card from his uniform pocket, and placed it into the key slot. The lights on the slot changed from red to green, approving the key card, unlocking the door for Bren. He opened the door to his temporary office; Intel was always moving their agent due to a lack of a formal headquarters. Left on his desk by the assignment droid was a datapad that would contain the specs of his next mission, as outlined by Gormul Hyfe, Intel’s interim director. Bren plugged the datapad into the wall projector interface, and allowed it to run through its programming. He plopped down in his chair, leading back in it. The thought of a nap briefly crossed his mind.

As always as it was with these orders, it opened with the Imperial Cog and the boldfaced font:</font>


<font color="#999999">Bren gave a slight yawn, “If only I had a quarter credit for each time I saw that…” he silently mused. The opening faded away after the standard three seconds, leading him into the mission profile. A blue-green sphere covered by random white streaks zoomed in, most likely the planet the mission was to take place on. It completed one revolution before shrinking into the corner of the screen. Bren changed from a lounging position in his chair to almost sitting on his desk.

The mission briefing and objectives rapid scrolled itself across the screen, in tiny white typeface. The planet displayed was Agamar. It was only famous for a pilot that went to the Rebellion, Bren wouldn’t be bothered to remember his name. Since the end of the Galactic Civil War, Agamar’s economy remained fair strong under its own rule. This impressed Bren, many worlds had not such success at self-governing. It did say as he continued in the last standard decade, due to a wave of weak leaders, that there was an economic recession occurring and several organizations bent on over throwing the planetary political system.

Bren’s primary objective was to observe the government and these coup organizations, and notify the Imperial Navy when Agamar was prime for the picking. A time frame of two days was given to Bren to request the necessary equipment and be off planet. With this, Bren ended the briefing and quickly uploaded the various requisition data-forms that would supply him with what he needed.

<hr>
With twelve hours to spare, Bren gathered his belongings and exited his apartment. With a flight bag full of the necessities, he was prepared for the journey to Agamar, and a prolonged stay. The requisition forms were processed relatively fast; Intelligence’s demands were processed faster than any other department in the Empire. An apartment had been reserved on Agamar, with all his requisitioned equipment all ready in place, so he wouldn’t need to smuggle anything in, along with last minute details and orders. The ship Intelligence had reserved him with was a long out-dated Corellian Engineering Corps YT Series twelve-fifty. This slug of a freighter was the best of its kind in the waning days of the Old Republic, if that’s any gauge to its antique status.

He found her fully fueled and the nav computer with the coordinates all ready preset for him. He reviewed the jump coordinates, noting the randomness of the first six sets, and then a straight shoot to Agamar from a vector on the other side of the planet than the one if it were straight from Muunilist; standard Intel procedure. He gave a slight grin as he edited one set, cutting several hours of the trip, but maintaining the same general pattern. Bren’s superior would have his head if they found out what he did, but no one in financing would complain if he arrived ahead of schedule, meaning he’d be under budget. Some one, somewhere would thank him for it.

He sat down in the pilot’s seat and started up the aging YT freighter. With a dull whine, and a slight stifle, the control panel lit up and the engine sat in idle. Bren quickly skimmed the controls, trying to refresh his Cardian Academy training. Although it was CEC freighter by name, and an YT series by design, these controls looked nothing like those found in the thirteen hundred or twenty-four hundred models. The steering and acceleration controls were similar, but Bren could not remember were all the other vital knobs and buttons were located. Good thing was a long flight; it would give him plenty of time to read the manual and re-educate himself.

Easing the accelerator forward, the engines roared, pulling the ship smoothly out of the hanger. An alarm went off as soon as he pitched the ship up to drive it into Muunilist’s orbit. No doubt it was signaling that the landing gear was still down. Bren slowed the ships accent, so as not to rip off his landing gears. He searched the controls frantically for the switch to retract them. Finally it dawned on him, the switch was under the warning light. He let a nervous laugh slip out as he flipped the switch bring the landing gears in. Increasing his speed once more, he reached orbit after twenty-five minutes of accent.

Checking in with Muunilist Space Traffic Control, Bren pulled his ship out of orbit and prepared her for hyperspace. Once the light flicked off that indicated he was a safe distance from the planet’s natural gravity well, he let the nav computer run the coordinates one more time. Once he was satisfied with all the read out, he pulled back the sublight accelerator, and engaged the hyperdrive. Bren sat back in the pilot’s chair and watched the star lines stretch into the simu-tunnels of hyperspace.</font>

<font color=ffffff>Main Lecture Theatre, Carida
Imperial Space


<font color=006600>The room was large, both in depth and width, and proved to be one of the biggest and most extravagant on the entire planet. The walls were paved with countless intricate designs, each one a masterpiece on it’s own and each one managing somehow to fit perfectly in with all the others around it. The main colours used consisted of whites and blues, with small hints of red showing through in some patterns, producing overall a sense of calm, in which people could relax and learn at the same time.

The room itself was a semi-circle, with groupings of seats fanning out and upward from the central lectern in an orderly fashion. They too were soft shades of blue and white, which each mimicked a design from the surrounding walls. Each grouping was a pod, fixed in place to the floor, in which students could enter as study groups or occupy singly. The pods were open on the top, and each had a built-in holoprojector for the occupants to use. The seating arrangements varied from pod to pod, and numbers consisted of roughly six to twelve each.

The walls at the back of the room drew up much higher than the highest seats, and were rimmed by a ledge of gold-flecked blue paint. The roof was entirely made up of transparisteel, and bore the Imperial insignia by way of durasteel supports. The transparisteel could be made opaque at the touch of a button, if the sun overhead was interfering with the lesson.

Far below, behind the imposing lectern, was stationed a large holoscreen that spanned the entire back wall, projecting images of the speaker or any diagrams or star charts that they chose to show the audience. These images, too, could be accessed from the pod’s personal holoprojectors.

General Chau Ming of the Imperial Army now stood behind the lectern in this massive tribute to his Empire. It was a rather new building, only finishing production a few months ago, but had already seen heavy use.

This was the first time Ming had been it, though, let alone presented a lecture on the usefulness and proper deployment of AT-ST’s in a siege situation - of all things.

Slowly, the Imperial cadets began to filter out of the massive chamber via the rear exits, essential notes in hand and that same information still fresh in their minds. Behind Ming, the wall-spanning screen still showed an enlarged view of section 3a of the At-ST’s blueprints. Ming turned slowly as the last spectator closed the door behind him, and looked up to stare at the schematic above him.

He was alone in the room now, although according to his schedule this whole place would be packed once more in as little as another fifteen minutes, for Colonel Hungr’s presentation on proper conduct on a Star Destroyer.

Ming let a small chuckle escape him, although as he was deserted here there was little need to stifle it. <font color=808080>Must be a junior class...<font color=006600>

This new building certainly was seeing a lot of action lately, it seemed. And probably would for some time to come.

Ming reflected this thought on himself quickly enough, reasoning that he, too, had been seeing more than his fair share of duty lately. So much, it seemed, that this brief stopover on the training world of Carida was considered by him to be a vacation. Ming had another lecture tomorrow at midday, lasting for an hour, and then another one two days from then in the same time slot. This pattern repeated itself for the next two weeks, if Ming remembered his schedule correctly. Other than those, he was free.

Ming looked down at his wrist, briefly checking his chrono.

Ten minutes.

The next class would be starting to arrive soon, Ming reasoned. Better to be out of here than in when that happened.

Reluctantly, the general switched off the screen at his back, and removed his datacards from the slots they had been in. He turned, and headed for the door, thoughts of a quiet sleep and some R&R plaguing his mind and yelling at him to happen.

All in all, it looked to be a good few weeks.</font>

<font color="#999999">Two days later…

Bren had entered the finally jump into the nav computer before creeping off to get some sleep. Space travel was always the worst part of these missions. He was just thankful that he didn’t have to cross the galaxy. Class 2 hyperdrive couldn’t get you anywhere fast. Bren got six hours of solid, restful sleep before the buzzer set to notify the crew that the jump was almost complete went off. Awakened immediately, partially because of the noise and his Imperial military training, Bren threw on some of the street clothing that had been provided and headed to the cockpit.

By now, the pilot’s seat had conformed to Bren shape, and was almost comfortable. He reached for the hyperdrive controls, slowly pulling them back and bring the ship back into realspace. There she sat, Agamar. Bren could make out the various weather systems, and the continents and oceans beneath those. He could see the peninsula that was where his destination was located. The capital city of Calna Muun was looking like it was having good weather for next few days, which was good. Bren would be making several transmissions in that time span.

The heavy modifications that the maintenance team at Intel had made to the YT-1210 allowed him to slip under the outdated systems Agamar was using for traffic control. He landed his ship in the area designated by his briefing. It was a shady part of Calna Muun; only suitable for criminals, which is why Intel chose it. No doubt once the Empire occupied it that this place would be shut down, quickly.

When Bren reached the city of Calna Muun, he could see all the obvious signs of the beginning of an economic depression. Stores were closed, the streets lined with garbage, both waste and human. Only a few businesses had not been shut down, and those were necessity stores, but they too were showing the signs of collapse.

Bren walked several blocks, seeing how deep the planet’s economy had plummeted at every corner, to his apartment. The building’s façade was worn down and stained with carbon scoring, like it had been shot at with heavy blasters. The interior wasn’t much better; exposed pipes and glow panels, duracrete cracked and falling off the walls, and the smell of human waste and vermin. Bren assumed this wasn’t one of the better places in the city. No doubt Intel didn’t do extensive research into where the better accommodations could be found, and just looked for the cheapest place they could find. He took the turbolift up, hoping it wouldn’t break down while in use.

His room, however, had been kept under better maintenance that the rest of the building appeared to be. It was it consisted of two rooms, one common room and bedroom, and the refresher had its own room as well. The equipment Intel had left for him was piled in the center of the common room, with a datapad a top it. He put this bag down and picked up the datapad to read his last minute instructions. This time he didn’t have the luxury of a wall projector, but still wishing he’d get that quarter credit.

The objectives were simple: Monitor all inter- and intra-planetary communications for to locate possible terrorist faction, other threats to the planetary government, and the impending Imperial invasion, and contact the nearest Imperial armada when the time for invasion would be the easiest. Bren cast the datapad aside, and looked at the mount of equipment in disbelief.</font>

“I requisitioned this much?” <font color="#999999">he muttered to himself. With a sigh, he began setting up the equipment and being the real mission of data collection and sorting</font>

"Uncle? Uncle? You said you would meet me on Naboo.." came the irritating whine of the little girl.

Ciscero sighed, and slipped into character as he held out his gloved hands to catch the bubbly girl bouncing off the transport.

"Could you have picked a worse place?" sniffed the rather tall guardian walking up as well.

Ciscero (aka: Motsi Aeurilias) turned to the guardian and grinned.

"Hek, the ship ride was bumpy?"

"For the amount of money we spent to come to this god forsaken place.. quite frankly, yes!"

"Welcome to Agamar, sweety." Motsi said softly to the girl as he let go of her.

She wasn't that young but there were times when it wasn't hard to remember that 8 had only been a few years back.

"Why weren't you on Naboo?" she asked again, refusing to forget which only served to reinforce in Motsi's mind that she was, in fact, a female.

"Business, Carlotta. Family business."

"In this filthy..."

"It may not look like much, but I assure you Mr. Hek, you will be impressed with the potential."

"Harumph!" the man responded and had the orderly from the transport pack their bags onto Motsi's skiff.

Motsi sighed to himself and resigned himself to being a tour guide through the most economically challenged planets in this galaxy.

<!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> Agamar... let's see.. who's supposed to be here?<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->

Ciscero had been out of contact, following Isard's instructions explicitly. The girl was important and he knew why... plus there was that General Kaine... well.. <!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> Where the hell was Kaine??.<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->

His fleet was said to be anchored at Muunilist but Ciscero had his suspicions about that. He was considering breaking into the Fleet Grounds just to check...but .. later.

He WAS out of the loop and if he looked hard enough, perhaps...perhaps he'd find the detail that would lead him to an agent here.

<!--EZCODE ITALIC START--> If there was an agent here.<!--EZCODE ITALIC END-->

He knew Agamar was on the list...but as big as that list is... it was anybody's guess if the Empire was here or not

The skiff started to move to their hotel .. for, as with any extremely poverty sticken planet, there was an extremely rich side to it as well.

<font color="#AE4848">Carida…

It had been days since Admiral Jaiprenl’s command group was suppose to get a transmission for Agamar, updating its status. Turmoil in the Agamarian economic and political scenes had been going on for decades, and is what prompted the New Order’s interest in it. And it being on the fringe of Imperial space certainly wasn’t a deterrent for observation either.

The lateness of the transmission worried Jaiprenl. It generally meant something had gone wrong, granted Intel’s success rank, this occurrence was very, very uncommon. The communications crews had been told to turn up their receivers to maximum levels to catch even the tiniest data burst. The crew on the Judgment was picking up static filled holonet broadcasts from as far as Ithor, and would surely be able to pick up anything coming from Agamar.

Admiral Jaiprenl paced behind the communications officer, making the comm. officer more pressured to find the transmission. Of all the hundreds of signals that were being picked up, it would take him days to sift through what he gathered in a standard hour. He was glad there were two other comm. crews doing the sifting as well.</font>

“Admiral,” <font color="#AE4848">the comm. officer’s face lit up,</font> “the crew on the Crusader just found it!”

“Excellent,” <font color="#AE4848">came Admiral Jaiprenl.</font>

“They say that it’s highly encrypted in Intel codes.”

“That’s the data burst. Have it transmitted to my office, I’ll decrypt it there.”

<font color="#AE4848">Whirling around on his heel, Admiral Jaiprenl made his way to his office. Finally, some action.


Sitting down at his desk, Admiral Jaiprenl pulled off his uniform cap, and pulled out the decrypting datarod. He pulled the message on his desk’s display, and plugged in the rod to the computer terminal. He saw the message go from jumbled numbers and letters to plain text as the decryptor ran its program.</font>

burst transmission beginning 135.46.79.02 …Agamar fresh for picking… political leaders planning own overthrow… strong Imperial movement… armed with information about leaders’ plans… needs military assistance… come immediately… burst transmission ended 135.26.79.03

<font color="#AE4848">That was all Admiral Jaiprenl needed to see.</font>

“Comm. officer,” <font color="#AE4848">Jaiprenl spoke into his comm. link.</font>

“Go ahead sir.”

“Inform General Ming he has three standard hours to report, and tell the rest of Command Group to prepare for deployment.”

“Aye sir.”

<font color="#AE4848">Jaiprenl reaffixed his hat to his head, and smoothed out his olive jack. It was time to empower the weak and liberate them from a treacherous government.</font>

<small><font color="red">NOTE:</font> This puts us at 3,512 overall.</small>

<font color=ffffff>Temporary Office Of General Ming, Carida
Imperial Space


<font color=006600>Ming sat behind his desk in the private office, staring blankly ahead at his terminal. The report General Kaine had transmitted to him earlier that day was spread out on the screen in front of him, Ming so far being the only person on Carida to read it, despite it’s importance.

<font color=808080>So this is what the General’s been doing in the Unknown Regions... impressive.<font color=006600> Ming sat back in his chair, and reached out to his left to tap a small and all but invisible button on the side of the desk.

<font color=808080>Won’t stay very unknown for long though, if Kaine gets back out there.

“Yes, General?” <font color=006600>A young man’s voice came out of the speaker next to Ming’s hand, summoned by the brief flick of a button. <font color=808080>

“A fresh jug of water, Jules.” <font color=006600>Ming glanced disappointedly at the empty glass sitting on his desk. He tapped the button again, ending the transmission and sealing the room in silence once more. It would have been just as easy to simply call out to Jules, the man being on the other side of the door outside Ming’s office, but the General preferred to use the comm. system.

He sat forward again, and scrolled further through the document, his ears ever wary for the sound of Jules’ footsteps outside, and the subsequent swish of the office door opening. Waiting but not content, he began to read again.

After almost half a minute, though, Ming started to get impatient. The aide was just outside the door, after all. It shouldn’t take him this long to walk over to the water dispenser, grab a fresh jug, and fill it.

It was what he was being paid for, after all.

Abandoning his text, Ming reached out to the comm. button again, and was just about to hail Jules when he heard the familiar footsteps outside.

The door opened, and Jules stepped through, a jug of water in one hand, and a datacard in the other. He marched over to the General’s desk quickly, setting the jug down and handing over the datacard.<font color=808080>

“Sorry for the delay, General, but there was an urgent message for you,” <font color=006600>he nodded in the direction of the datacard. <font color=808080>“It’s from the Judgment, General sir.” <font color=006600>

At this Ming’s attention pricked up, and he wordlessly took the datacard from his desk. He inserted the datacard into a slot on his terminal, and watched as the report from Kaine flashed, disappeared, and was replaced by the Imperial crest.

Below it were to words ‘For the eyes of General Ming only’.

He punched in a quick password, and was promptly met by a thick screen of code. Another command, and the encryption program started its work.

As it did, Ming poured himself a fresh glass of water, and began to sip it.

Jules was standing stiffly at attention now, waiting for his General to finish and be done with him.

The decrypt finished. <font color=808080>

“At ease,” <font color=006600>Ming murmured, turning his eyes to the document while the young man in front relieved himself.

The General took only a few seconds to scan his transmission, then turned back to Jules.<font color=808080>

“Jules, prepare a shuttle to take me to the Judgement thirty minutes from now.” <font color=006600>Ming stood up, snatching the datacard from it’s slot and walking around his desk, headed for the door. Jules fell into step behind him, his own datapad out and taking notes. <font color=808080>

“Get me a copy of General Kaine’s report, and also send copies to Commander Hysec and Professor Wildman. Tell them to assimilate it into the training programme as soon as possible.” <font color=006600>They were in the hallway, moving toward the General’s quarters. <font color=808080>

“Find someone else to take my lectures.”<font color=006600> They continued walking, and quickly got to the General’s door. Ming opened it, and stepped inside.<font color=808080>

“Anything else, General?”

“Yes... contact Major Paullman. Tell him to ready his men.” <font color=ffffff>


Lambda Shuttle Portal, Carida High Orbit
Imperial Space

Thirty Five Minutes Later<font color=006600>


Ming sat uncomfortably in the Portal’s passenger compartment, a copy of Kaine’s report now sitting on a much smaller personal datapad screen in front of him. By his side was a bag containing all the personal items he owned, and in the back a pair of suitcases with his clothes.

The General travelled light.

Outside, unheard in the silent void of space, a half-dozen TIE Interceptors flew escort on Ming’s shuttle.

Back in the day of Palpatine’s rule, a pair of now-dated TIE fighters was standard. Now though, with the Empire’s enemies growing stronger, Imperial regulations had to be revised. <font color=808080>

Growing strong, but still weaker than we could ever be.<font color=006600>

Ming read for a few more minutes, then looked up as the captain’s voice came over the comm. system. <font color=808080>

“General, we are approaching the Judgement now. ETA one minute, sir.” <font color=006600>The comm. clicked off, and Ming looked up to the cockpit, as the Caridan sun’s light was eclipsed by the massive bulk of an Allegiance Super Star Destroyer, and shadow fell on the Portal.

They were here.</font>

<font color="#999999">Calna Muun, Agamar

The transmission was sent. Knowing how fast and eager Admiral Jaiprenl’s crew would be, they would be mobilized within the hour. It would be only a few days before they would arrive. Then Bren would be entitled to at least a week of vacation, a very nice vacation.

"Anything after living in this bantha hole would be paradise," Bren thought to himself, with a smirk on his face.

Time to break things down. Bren went about the tedious task of breaking down all the equipment that he’d used for the last three weeks… No make that month, he corrected himself. A month of hard work, observing, making connections, and giving hope to people who had none, was coming to its climax. The Imperial Army would be no match for what the government could muster.</font>

<font color=ffffff>Allegiance Super Star Destroyer Judgement, Carida High Orbit
Imperial Space<font color=006600>


The Lambda-class Shuttle Portal passed unflinching through the ion field protecting the officer’s hangar. It came down slowly, settling with an unfounded grace onto the deck plating, and then fast-becoming a magnet for technicians and stormtroopers - the latter lining up neatly by the boarding ramp in an obvious sign of respect to the passenger.

Just as smoothly as it had navigated the space beyond, the Portal’s landing ramp began to lower, and touched down with a dull thud a mere metre of so from the nearest stormtrooper’s foot.

Next came the procession, although it wasn’t much of one.

Out of the shuttle first came a number of guards, eyes forward and boots clicking harmlessly on the deck. Following them was an aide, and then the General moved into view.

Ming moved at his own slow, deliberate pace, but broke into standard Imperial march when his boot came into first contact with the Judgement. At this same time, the double-lines of stormtroopers came quickly to attention, their backs even more rigid now than before.

The General quickened his pace now, mind only wandering slightly as he neared the end of the mini-procession. He was being tailed at a distance by a small troop of aides, some carrying the suitcases and bag Ming had brought with him, some empty handed and looking slightly distraught at their apparent lack of significance. At the head of the group were a pair of stormtroopers.

The TIE Interceptor escort, who had been making slow passes of the hangar to ensure the Portal’s safety, had since disappeared. <font color=808080>

Must’ve gone off to another hangar.<font color=006600> Ming noted as he came to a halt and turned to see the escort gone.

The technicians were for the most part dispersing now, leaving only a few behind to refuel the shuttle. Stormtroopers alike were following suit, with a quartet given the relative honour of guard duty.

Ming watched the hangar at work for a bit longer, as his aides filed off to their respective quarters, mostly adjacent to his. Jules was not among them, being Ming’s permanent aide on Carida - one of many informants throughout the galaxy that the General had.

As he surveyed the scene, Ming suddenly got the feeling that he was being watched. The General would be the first to admit that he was in no way force-sensitive, but this was another kind of sense altogether. And the feeling was different, as well.

Most people, when faced with the thought of watchful eyes on their back, are often quick to imagine a wraith waiting patiently in the shadows, or a stalker moving silently back out of sight.

This was different, though. This was the kind of watcher who wants to be seen. <font color=808080>

“General!” <font color=006600>The voice came from behind, as Ming had expected. He turned slowly, knowing by the slightly giddy but still controlled tone who it would be facing him. <font color=808080>

“Good morning, Major,” <font color=006600>Ming smiled at Paullman, who promptly returned the gesture. The General had know his Major since the latter had been a Captain, and the former a Brigadier. <font color=808080>

“I see you noticed, then,” <font color=006600>Paullman continued smiling, and lifted a hand up to brush an imaginary fleck of dust from the pip denoting his position above ‘Captain’.

Ming smiled, and the pair turned to walk down past the blast doors. The ‘War Room’ was their destination, a plan for the assault their cause, and reminiscing about old times over a beer their victory dance.


<font color=ffffff>Allegiance Super Star Destroyer Judgement, Agamar System Edge
Uncontrolled Space<font color=006600>


The attack grouping of assorted ships came out of hyperspace and met with no immediate resistance. In fact, this part of space was completely uninhabited.

Beginning at a slow crawl, which quickly sped up as momentum and engine power increased, the fleet moved out. It was obviously no secret that they were there, as by the time Agamar was more than a small pinprick in the distance, advanced scans showed a large number of civilian craft were already fleeing the system.

What small proportion of those remaining were military in purpose, was hard to tell.

The fleet approached, and the attack began.

General Ming was oblivious to this, however, being completely secure in the hold of one of the foremost ships in the attack fleet. A ships with the specific purpose of breaking the enemy line and deploying numerous Imperial Assault Shuttles, collectively holding the entire Second Battlegroup of the Imperial Army, onto Agamar’s surface.

As the ship jolted for the first time, Ming knew that they were away.


<font color=ffffff>Mobile Command Base, Three Kilometres South Of Calna Munn
Agamar
Contested Space<font color=006600>


General Ming sat in his command chair, now entirely content.

The shuttles had landed him and his troops just half an hour before, and they were making steady progress toward the capital. So far, hardly any resistance had been encountered, and Ming’s comm. officer informed him that the battle in space was going well.

<font color=808080>Soon, Agent Stian will rally the Imperial loyalist factions within the city who wish to see the government overthrown. Soon, it will all be over.<font color=006600>

Ming got up from his chair in the cramped space of the movable base, which was rolling towards the enemy as he thought about it, at the centre of the attacking force. All around, he could hear the clanking sounds of AT-ATs going in for the kill, and the faster AT-STs moving ahead.

Overlaying all this was the sound of speeder bikes, whining across the ground like an escaped wolf pack, seeking fresh meat.

Yes, soon it would all be over. </font>

<font color="#999999">Calna Muun, Agamar

The roar of Sentinel-Class Landing Shuttles came from behind Bren, and continued over his head.

"The Empire!"

With gear in tow, Bren picked up the pace to his transport. It would be only a matter of minutes before AT-STs and AT-ATs would arrive in the city. Hopefully the leader of the Imperial movement was aware that the Army had arrived on time.

Bren quickly dove around the corner, and down the stair case to his hanger. There he stopped short met by three men, all rugged and unclean looking, and each carrying a blaster.

"Betrayal."

Bren dropped his belongings and began a slow retreat towards the door. He held his hands up in futile defense as the men advanced on him. Bren surveyed the hanger for some make-shift weapon; he dare not reach for his concealed blaster.</font>

"Now guys," <font color="#999999">he said with a quiver in his voice,</font> "I don't want to hurt anyone."

<font color="#999999">The only response came from the lead man; a chuckle and hole filled grin. Bren looked back to see if anything would be useful there. He caught a glimpse of a length of pipe leaning on the stairs. Bren pretended to stumble up the stairs, trying to find the pipe with his hands. As his hand feel on the pipe, a blaster discharged.

Bren winced, thinking he'd been shot. He opened his eyes to see one of his attackers was the one that been shot, and now was laying dead on the floor. The other two men were as stunned as Bren was.</font>

"FREEZE!" <font color="#999999">came from directly behind him. The clack of Imperial stormtrooper armor came down the stairs. Bren rolled to one side to clear the path for his rescuers, and drew his blaster.</font>

"Set for stun," <font color="#999999">ordered Bren. He wanted to find out who hired his attackers. The squad of stormtroopers quickly took down the two men.</font> "Bring them back to the command center for interrogation," <font color="#999999">Bren said to the squad leader,</font> "If this was a threat sent by our allies here, it's essential that we know A-SAP."

"Aye sir," <font color="#999999">nodded the squad leader. Bren gathered his equipment, aided by two stormtroopers, and loaded in his transport.

Bren fired up the engines, and lifted out of the hanger, taking his two helpers with him. If the assassination attempt was set up by one of the loyalists, he would not survive by himself.</font>

<font color=ffffff>Mobile Command Base, Calna Munn Southern City Wall
Agamar
Contested Space<font color=808080>


Less than half a dozen...<font color=006600>

General Ming contemplated this figure in his head, as his eyes scanned to city walls ahead, where stormtroopers were already pouring in though the gates. <font color=808080>

Less than half a dozen walkers... that’s what it took to down the rebel base at Hoth.<font color=006600>

Records of that historic battle now played across Ming’s mind. He also noted to himself that over the course of the conflict, more than half the attacking AT-AT force was destroyed by the rebels.

And still, the Empire had won out. <font color=808080>

Less than half a dozen...<font color=006600>

A smile, barely visible, crossed Ming’s face in tribute to the odds now faced by the Agamarian government.

Checking the command console once more, he confirmed that almost all of the two hundred of the Second Battlegroup’s AT-AT walkers were still fully operational and plodding methodically through the opposing defence, decimating it in their advance.

Not that there was still much of a defence left, anyway.

Once the Imperials had neared the city, the place had been sent into upheaval. Forces working from the inside out had come to the Empire’s assistance, and made the battle a lot shorter than it might have been.

Sighing, Ming reached over and plucked a comm. off the opposite wall. He used it quickly to call one of the closer AT-STs to the MCB, then moved silently from his station inside, through the door, and out onto the planet.

The MCB had long since stopped moving, and had become the hub of what was now a large portion of the Empire’s attacking force. Surrounding Ming were various numbers of stormtroopers, AT-ATs and other Imperial weaponry.

As he watched, a group of stormtroopers, flanking three Heavy Imperial Repulsor Tanks, marched into the city through the south gate, secured by the Imperials almost as soon as they arrived. He could hear their footsteps echoing for a long minute until the sound of the tanks drowned them out, and then faded into the background noise of moving machinery that was now common.

When he had finished watching the stormtroopers disappearing, Ming saw that his requested AT-ST was now standing ready, awaiting his orders. Climbing up with little difficulty, Ming opened the top hatch and got inside the transport. <font color=808080>

“Orders, General?” <font color=006600>The pilot asked simply. <font color=808080>

“Take me to the front-line, top speed.” <font color=006600>Ming relieved the co-pilot of his seat, and the man was forced to stand behind the General in the small space provided.

As the AT-ST sped off at a pace that no AT-AT could ever hope to match, Ming surveyed the scene of the departing command base. Two more squads of stormtroopers were preparing to enter the city, this time accompanying a single AT-AT. There were three MCBs in varied positions around the command, Ming’s included. He knew for a fact that the fourth MCB was inside the city, being used as an advance base close to the front-line. The General noticed several stormtroopers dragging some rough-looking men up to one and requesting admittance, but what happened next was left out of the man’s mind, for now Ming was entering Calna Munn.


<font color=ffffff>Calna Munn Battle Front, Agamar
Contested Space<font color=006600>


The enemy lines were breaking, and the General’s forces seemed to have the upper hand in the conflict.

Attacking from the south, the Empire’s forces had sandwiched all but some of the defenders in the middle of the city, enemy emplacements caught between the might of the Imperial Army to the south, and the relatively strong forces of the Imperial Loyalists to the north-east. The rest of the city was deserted aside from the vast civilian population, who were being paid no heed by either side.

Ming stood tall and strong, Paullman at his side.

They were a little back from the front, but still in clear view of the enemy strongholds. The last-ditch stand by the planetary government was made in a city square, three squat, bunker-like buildings inside. They were heavily fortified, but could not hold out for much longer. <font color=808080>

“Major, do you have the plans for those buildings?” <font color=006600>Ming asked casually, cocking his head to the side as he seemed to think of something. <font color=808080>

“Uhh, not at the moment, General.” <font color=006600>Paullman pulled a comm. from his breast pocket. <font color=808080>“I will soon, though...” <font color=006600>As the Major began prescribing orders to his comm., Ming took a few steps forward, and moved to the side, so that he was in line with the door of the nearby MCB. <font color=808080>

“Lieutenant,” <font color=006600>he called out to someone unseen inside the vehicle. A casual silence followed, before the head of a man poked out through the door. <font color=808080>

“General?”

“Get me a comm., Lieutenant. Open the frequency to the loud-speaker.”

“Yes, General.” <font color=006600>

The man ducked back inside for a second, then came out again and tossed Ming a small metal cylinder. The General caught it, and upon signal from the MCB, began to talk. <font color=808080>

“Representatives of the government of Agamar, I am General Ming of the Imperial Army.” <font color=006600>He paused, in which space a few shouts rose up from the bunkers, mostly along the lines of ‘Go to hell, Imperial fascists!’ This was met by blaster fire from the Imperials, which resulted in Ming having to duck as the Defenders counterattacked.

Moving quickly, Ming spoke into his comm. <font color=808080>

“Imperial forces, cease fire!” <font color=006600>

The command was obeyed almost instantly, with the Imperial’s taking cover behind their equipment and securing their arms.

Ming took a moment out to survey the situation.

The Defenders were bunkered down tight, and it was obvious they were ready to battle it out to the bitter end. There was no doubt about that.

Earlier, men and women had been fleeing the bunkers, surrendering as prisoners of war and being taken away. But the last occurrence of that was over ten minutes ago, and it wasn’t likely to happen again. <font color=808080>

We’ve weeded out the weak, and now only the die-hards are left. They’ll fight to the bitter end, that’s for sure.<font color=006600>

Ming wasn’t exactly worried about the situation. He’d been in worse before. It wouldn’t be a problem if the Imperials could get the AT-ATs into the square, but the surrounding streets were too narrow, and clearing buildings effectively was a timely process. The fleet was on the other side of the planet, still mopping up the rest of the Defenders’ minimal navy, so an orbital bombardment wouldn’t be an option.

And to top it off, the bunkers were equipped with numerous surface-to-air weapons emplacements, so a strike by the TIE Defender squadron would prove largely ineffective.

No, the only way out of this was the AT-ATs. Although they couldn’t enter via the southern streets, the one that the Loyalists were attacking from was just big enough to fit them. But this would mean getting a deployment of AT-ATs to the eastern gate.

Ming had already deployed various shuttles to transport them there, and now the force was on it’s way through the city.

All he had to do was stall, and try to lose as little men as possible. <font color=808080>

“General!” <font color=006600>Paullman came up behind Ming, holding a datapad in one hand. He gave it to the General. <font color=808080>“The plans you requested.”

“Thank you, Major.” <font color=006600>

Ming brought the plans up to reading level, while at the same time beginning to talk to the Defenders again. <font color=808080>

“Now listen, I’ve ordered a cease fire from my soldiers,” <font color=006600>his voice boomed over the speakers. <font color=808080>“There is no reason for any more people to die here today, if we can just come to a reasonable agreement...” <font color=ffffff>


Five Minutes Later<font color=808080>


“Die Imperial scum!” <font color=006600>

The fighting had broken out again, and this time in earnest. The Imperials were making some headway against the blaster fire coming from the Defenders’ bunkers, but they were still hampered by the fact that they could only get a few men out of the streets at a time, making them easy pickings for Defender snipers.

As the blasters raged, more and more Imperial soldiers were forced to fall back, while the Defenders held their position without much difficulty.

Although to be fair, Ming was only stalling. If he had wanted the bunkers now, he would have them. This way just wasted less life.

The fighting continued as normal in his ears, but in the background, the General could now hear something else, below the other sounds. There was now the constant thump, thump of a large object moving slowly but with deadly purpose through the battleground.

And then they were upon them. <font color=ffffff>


AT-AT Cockpit, Calna Munn City Square,
Agamar
Contested Space<font color=006600>


The commander of the first walker was quick to carry out his orders, received directly from General Ming himself. As soon as he came within range, the AT-AT’s guns opened up on their target.

The Loyalists had already evacuated, having learned of the plan in advance, and the Imperials under Ming’s command had done likewise.

Bolts of red-hot energy poured forth from the AT-AT’s mouth, tearing up asphalt and dirt. The ground between the two largest bunkers was being ripped to shreds.

As per Ming’s orders, after he consulted the plans given him by Paullman, the AT-ATs were attacking the hidden tunnels connecting the bunkers.

Specifically, the fuel pipes.

...

<font color=red>BOOM!</font>