Fire wreathed the small corvette [i]Donatelli[/i[ before its magazine of missiles caught and the ship was torn apart from the inside. Admiral Portman tried to look away but duty demanded be stay true. Only moments had passed since the engagement commenced and already a fifth of his capital ships were destroyed or burning. As was possible, the smaller ships were running pell-mell for whatever gap could be found. The Imperials' shields were glowing white-hot from the merciless pummelling but the shots were too weak to do much damage.


" Admiral, the Victory Destroyer at coordinates 1788 by 7464 is registered some fluctuating shields. It appears to be dropping from formation."


Portman nodded. " If there is one victory today, then it shall be there. Send in the cruisers."


Acknolwedgements came and went, disregarded as the Admiral glared out of the bridge viewports, his command aflame around him. Fighters moved by at blinding speeds, chased by more and more. TIEs filled the panorama, outnumbering Adamarian ships one-half dozen to one. The flagship moved alongside one of the leading Imperial frigates and gave it a fierce cannonade that left it smoldering and without attitude control. Cheers filled the bridge but the Admiral knew the frigate was just a toy. The Destroyers, massive and immobile, were the only variables with which he needed to contend and contend with them he could not.


" Commander?" Portman turned from the battle and looked at his faithful flag-captain with tear-swollen eyes.


" Sir!"


" Inform all ships - Gamma Protocols are now in effect."


The flag-captain swallowed hard. He did not reply, nor could he have if he wanted to. He turned as well and issued orders to the fleet - or what was left of it. Ramming had now become an acceptable tactic to commanders without hope of saving their ships.

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.

In a period less than twenty-five minutes, the entire Agamarian Space Defense Force had been reduced from an untested, inadequately trained and equipped group into Space Dust. Not much of an improvement, Kris noted to himself.

Early on their superior numbers had given them an advantage, but after Griz's little maneuver of pulling back one Victory and unleashing the other the battle had turned into the True Empire's favor. The storm of Concussion Missiles the Pride of the Empire sent in her opponents direction had torn any surviving capital ships to ribbons, save only the force's only Dreadnut, that ship would be refitted and serve in the True Empire's navy. A heavy Ion bombardment had knocked it out, allowing a boarding party to take it.

However, the planet itself- and all the crops and food that were the reason they wanted the planet- were on the surface. They weren't getting anything done by sitting in orbit. A bird in the hand might be worth two in the bush, but they had no bird in the hand.

"What do you recommend, Kris?" Griz asked him. Until they were sure they had a secure foothold, they wouldn't call each other by their agreed upon titles (Emperor and Regent) by an unspoken agreement. Chances were, in fact, they wouldn't ever, not even if they managed to take down the Empire.

"Well, Griz, we don't have enough ground troops for a full scale invasion- less than 15,000 on the Victorys and the Titan." And we don't want to bombard the planet, we want all of it's crops to remain intact. So I recommend we threaten bombardment and hope they don't call our bluff, and go down and negotiate."


Griz smiled at him.


Then he frowned.


"And if they call our bluff?" he asked.


"Then we follow through."


"That's the answer any half-witted Lieutenant fresh from the fleet academy would give, not something I'd expect from a seasoned, experienced officer. How many years have you been in the service? Fifteen, right? And you've been a Captain for nine. No, Kris, that's not the right course of action. Look again at the planet."


He did.


Nothing.


His mind was blank.


He told him that.


Griz sighed. "When will you learn? Negotiation is the proper tactic here. We need this planet. Not only to starve the rest of the Hydian into following us, but also in order to feed our armies. For soldiers. For anything else this godforsaken hunk of rock can provide to us."


He took a deep breath.


"Communications, send the following message to whoever takes messages down there..."

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!

Two years later, Coruscant-Imperial University, History of the New Order 102

"And so, the war began."

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.