Kallan scratched his stubbly hair, taking off his black uniform dress and throwing it onto his cot. They were in the last cycles of hyperspace travel from Onyx to Fornax, he could tell not from the naval commander of the ship but from the marines. They were anxious, but the pacing had just begun.

Sighing, he picked up his datapad, reviewing the file for the umpteenth time.

{DATA FILE}-[Jade-level clearance necessary]
Desk of-**CENSORED FOR PROTECTION**
Reviewed and approved by-Captain Caleb Logan, Commonwealth Navy

To-Major Kallan D. Hurn, Commonwealth Marine Corps.

PIRATE ACTIVITIES IN THE MID RIM

Recent pirate activities have spiked in the mid rim sector, near the border of our territories. Operatives have tracked one firespray-class ship by **CENSORED FOR PROTECTION** and the transmission ceased near the Fornax system. Ion signatures have been high from the main planet, noted by its rings, Fornax. For further information, see fiche marked "fornax."

Major, your job is to make all pirate activity radiating out from Fornax cease and desist, whether by force of arms or by negotiation. At your disposal is one Republic-class star destroyer, along with your battalion of marines. I expect nothing but success.

[/ENDFILE]

He flipped the ‘pad onto his desk and managed to hang up his uniform jacket before slumping down onto his cot, laying on his stomach. It had been one hell of a long day.

Fornax wouldn’t be that much of a hotspot if goblins weren’t camped out there. Irony intended of course, Fornax was one hell of a hotspot, with how close it was to the sun. Gravity slightly above average, temperature normally in the 100s, atmosphere breathable but unpleasant. And what did all that mean? Special gear for the marines. Whichever pirate decided to make a base on Fornax was an utter genious. No assembly required, it defends itself.

Who the hell wants to go to Fornax?

Speaking of special gear, that had been a problem. Lieutenant Njangu's troublemaker, Garvin Jaansma, had succeeded in depressurizing not one, but two rebreathers violently. They weren’t trained in the use of this equipment, but the command staff was doing it’s best to make that ancient history.

A meaty fist thundered against Kallan’s door, and the man groaned a “come in”, muffled by his pillow.

“Hey Boss,” Command Sergeant Major Isaac Hayes's bass rumble began, “We’ve got first, third and fourth companies all checked out on the re-breathers. Second’s gonna take longer, you know how that goes.”

Kallan moved his head minutely, catching a glimpse of the black man’s wide grin. Second was his favorite plaything, made up of, as he said, “Armpits and assholes”. Hayes was Kallan’s head noncom, a veteran of three campaigns and fourteen bushfire wars, and even more. In other words, Hayes did all the actual footwork.

“Good man, good,” he said, matching the noncom’s grin. “Jaansma have anything to do with it?”

“Oh no, he couldn’t,” Hayes said, taking enjoyment in Hurn’s confused expression. “It’s hard to mess with things when you’re in sick bay from decompression.”

Damn. I’m more frazzled than I thought, Kallan mused. Forgot about that. “Go ahead and get em’ into their racks, sleep’s a better arm than anything else. We’re a day out, you make sure and get some sleep too. Order, of course.

The huge man flipped a salute over his shoulder, closing the door to the command cabin. “Whateva you say, boss.”

Kallan regained concuisness to screaming alarms and general bedlam. Once again a meaty fist thundered into the door, but this time it wasn't a knock, it was a battering ram.

"Sir, we're in-system and the Al Maouna is in fleet action. We better get a move on and head out."

Kallan rubbed his eyes, an incredulous look on his face. "You let me sleep that long?!?! What the fuck, man!"

The man grinned again, pearly white teeth contrasting with his ebony skin. "I figured you wouldn't want to be disturbed, boss."

Kallan shook his head, laughing, and rushed into his combat fatigues, brown/tan to match the Fornax landscape. "You're an ass, you know that? What's the status of the Mad Dogs?"

"Currently getting armed, armored and nasty. Ensign Vinita has your update if you want it."

Kallan nodded and put in his earpiece, just as a blow rocked the ship like a heavyweight fighter on his heels.

"Drakh, we really do need to get off, don't we?"

"Speak for yourself, Major," Vinita's soothing contralto began. "I can't leave. Your troops have reach 50% combat readiness. Third is in the drop bay, they are tying up odd ends and preparing the ships for drop. Fourth is at the armory, getting ammo issued. First is with fourth, but getting CM-37s issued. Second is currently lost and in the reactor room.”

“Are you serious? All of second?” Kallan began, strapping on his torso armor.

“Well, not all. Alpha platoon.”

“Muthatruckin’ Jaansma, man,” Hayes chuffed.

Kallan rolled his eyes, securing the straps to his armor vest. “Get a swabbie to get them the hell out of there, where’s Njangu?” Kallan said, referring to Second’s beleaguered First Lieutenant.

“With the rest of second, preparing to leave for the armory. I’ll inform him that Alpha is being currently re-lead and will meet him at the armory.”

“Good thinking Ensign, Keep me posted.” Kallan inserted his combat knife into his waist holster and turned to leave, slapping Hayes on the armored shoulder. “Let’s move, Armory.”, he said.

Kallan pulled the charging bolt back on his CM-37 blaster rifle, removed the barrel plug and loaded a blaster cell, keeping the safety on. The CM-37 “bulldog” rifle was much different than your average blaster rifle, mostly in power. To attribute to the Commonwealth Marines’ greater marksmanship training compared to your average soldier, the rifle was overpowered, so where a normal blaster cell would provide 200 bolts, the bulldog would provide 100 overcharged bolts, guaranteed kills. Of course, the only recoil was due to heat, so the power was nothing more than a bonus.

To his right, Hayes was loading up on ammo for his CMH-3 squad support weapon, or SSW for short. It had more power than the bulldog, but carried more ammo, 200 bolts worth.

“Major Hurn, this is Commander Vyers.” It was the commander of the ship. “Activate your holo, will you?”

Kallan dug into a belt pouch and took out a metal disk about the size of his palm, pushing a button on the side. Blue symbols scrolled down until they touched the disk, then an image formed, aristocratic Commander Vyers with his back to the main viewscreen. Kallan could just make out the form of two corellian corvettes, venting atmosphere and listing slowly.

“There you go, now you can see our progress,” he began. “We have succeeded in routing the pirates, but we cannot win the planet for you. Their forces were courageous, if not intelligent. Apparently they have a fairly charismatic leader; he contacted us and tried to sue for diplomatic immunity. Of course, according with Commonwealth law, we refused and opened fire on all brigand vessels. Their fleet consisted of one Nebulon-B frigate and three corellian corvettes. As you can see, two have been destroyed with all hands aboard, but one corvette was damaged and limped out of battle, supported by the Nebulon B. The Nebulon B has had extensive retro-fitting, and is up to standard milspec, along with fourteen extended range turbolaser cannon. The range was sufficient that we could not engage without diverting more power to engines, thus probably losing the battle with the three corvettes swarming around us. Major, I will be sending down two squadrons of fighercraft to cover your landing, and orbital bombardment will take place of known defense emplacements. Forcespeed, Major, and known that the Navy gave them hell.”

The transmission winked out, and Kallan replaced the disk in his belt pouch, trotting towards the drop bay exit, Sergeant Major Hayes following him.

“Man, that guy always creeps me out. Too uptight.”, Hayes said.

Kallan chuckled lightly, grinning, and entered in the passcode for the drop bay door. It opened, and he was immediately bombarded with questions.

“Sir, here’s your re-breather,” One engineer said, tossing him a mask.

“Sir, we have your ship ready and waiting, along with your personal platoon,” said his dropship pilot.

His command staff made different approaches towards him, First Lieutenant Njangu of second came sprinting, Captain Roger Mantau of third company calmly strode up, Captain Veers of Fourth simply looked up, he was sitting on a crate next to Hurn and Hayes. Second Lieutenant Karl Vars of first came running like Njangu, but nearly ate it when he ran into a stack of crates, bounced off and came to an awkward salute.

“Sorry sir, didn’t mean to mess with your gear sir,” He rattled off, sweating anxiety.

“Relax,” Hurn said, motioning with his palm towards the man. “It’s your first drop, so what? I’ve seen your scores, they’re good, just keep cool and don’t get into any compromising positions.”

Actually, Hurn was rather worried about the guy; he had just been promoted from a platoon commander, but had not been given the First Lt. rank that came with it. That meant he was a desk jockey at first, and had been given a combat slot.

“Alright, here’s the plan,” Kallan began, taking out his holodisc once more, flipping a switch and casually casting it onto the ground. It quadrupled in size, forming a map of the target area. “This is our target, the brigand city of sorts. It’s an abandoned mining colony city. Many of the outlying buildings are poor and made of mud and brick, but as you get nearer to the heart the buildings become more modernized and made of duracrete and steel, although none are over three stories high. At the very center is the mining building headquarters, a twenty story building. This is our capture point and main focus. Fourth, you will secure the spaceport in the south of the town, here,” he said, touching a point on the map, which was now outlined in green. “Second, you are in charge of heading north up this main street, the only four lane street in the entire city, Gladys Avenue. It leads all the way to the mining headquarters. Third, you will head south down Gladys avenue.” He touched the street, and it glowed faintly yellow, outlined in red, Third and Second’s colors. “Last, first, you will be in reserve on the ship. Someone has to do it, Vars, and you’re the least experienced man here. You’ll get down, I’m sure of it; these bastards have surprises tucked up their sleeves. You all have orders, now let’s get the hell down there and kick some ass.”

The four men grinned in unison, shouting a “OO-RAH!”, then trotted do their respective dropships. Kallan flicked his safety off and jumped into his lumbering transport, nodding to Hayes.

It was go time. All the planning, all the work would come together.

Kallan set his rifle beside himself and eased into the pilot's seat, flicking the autopilot switch to off. He had been practicing and learning from various pilots for the past couple of months, and had about 80 hours of flight time in the dropship.

It was time to do the real thing, so he did what every good commander had done since the beginning of time, pull rank. The former pilot was now sitting in the drop bay with an awkward look on his face, surrounded by armored marines.

"Sybil six actual, this is Pilum four, watch your stack, over."

Kallan gritted his teeth, ruddering over with the pedals at his feet.
"Report stack now, Pilum four."

There was a pause, then the other pilot responded. "Locked and loaded, Sybil Six, sittin' pretty. What happened, the marines get rowdy?"

Major Hurn grinned, covering the mic with one hand. He'd like to see one of these zoomies try to subdue his marines. "Pilum four, this is Sibyl One Actual. I have taken over for Sybil six actual and am gaining flight time. No, my marines are under control."

There was a long, deathly pause, then a squeaky, "Yes sir. Pilum Four out."

Kallan was not a very nice person. He flipped a com switch to change to the personnel compartment, and filled his troops in on the news.

"Marines, this is Major Hurn. We have secured this dropship and are going to be heading damn well where we please from now on. I've decided to give a visit to Captain Mantau at the spaceport with fourth, so lock and load, get ready to eat it." He said, using the old euphemism for landing.

"We are marines, WHAT DO WE DO?", he finished, shouting over the com.

Even through the durasteel-plated door he could hear the blood-pounding and simple answer, "KILL KILL KILL!", as the men beat their fists into their armor vests.

"OO-Rah!" Kallan switched back to the main frequency and pushed down on the 'stick, ruddering with his feet, sending the craft into a slow decline to bring it down to the spaceport. To his left he could see a spread-out formation of dropships, Roger's Rangers, Second Battalion.

They were about to get some welcome company.

Kallan could now make out the formation of dropships making up fourth, and evidently the flight leader could too.

"Unidentified Commonwealth Dropship, this is Ceteris One Actual, identify yourself, over." The pilot was no-nonsense; this was definitely not according to plan.

Then again, Kallan had come up with that plan the night before. "This is Sybil One Actual, I am coming to assist and oversee Captain Mantau's invasion. We will be landing near the south tower, the only spot that could not be assaulted in the plan written by Major Hurn."

He spoke in third person because anyone could be listening in, and he didn't want to paint himself as a target. He could hear scuffing on the link, apparently the headset was being transferred, then Roger's calm voice came over the link.

"Understood, Sybil one actual, and thanks for the help. Be advised, cover engaged heavy resistance over the spaceport, splashed most of the fighters but had to leave because of ground defense. Our buddy in the sky hit it hard, but you know how orbital bombardment goes, over."

Roger knew damn well who it was, but he was too much of a veteran to let it loose, either. "thanks, keep that in mind, ov-"

Kallan was cut off as he yawed the craft right, barely dodging incoming quadlaser fire. He didn't know why he did it, it was just...instinct. And it probably at least saved the ship an emergency landing.

"-er," he finished. "Sorry, goblins started throwing things at me. Out, watch it, Ceteris One."

Kallan banked the craft down, angling to get down to the ground as fast as he could. More green turbolaser fire streaked overhead, if he wouldn't have dove it would've hit, and a gunship swooped in, its wings sparkling with rocket flares, and the gun emplacement exploded into nothingness. He broke cloud cover and could see the ground screaming towards him, his altimeter read 800 meters.

Time to brake out of free-fall. The Major pitched the craft back, turning off the ion engines and flipping the switch for repulsorlifts, fingers dancing across the sensor pad. The craft shuddered and switched, g-forces slamming Hurn back into his seat until the inertial compensators could kick in, and by that time the ground was close, close, oh so close and-

The craft eased onto its skids, and the marines piled out, slamming the bay doors open. Kallan undid his belt and vaulted over the seat, grabbing his rifle by the sling. On the way out he patted the true transport pilot on the shoulder, grinning.

"You can have her back now, I'm done."

Elated with a feeling like getting to borrow dad's speeder for the first time, Major Hurn leapt out of the transport and cushioned for the short, heavy-grav fall, Sergeant Hayes right behind him.

"Form up, first squad head up the outside stairs, second in the door with you. Third and fourth, get back in and get on the roof, double time."

The transport dusted off just in time for the first blaster bolts to skip off the duracrete, and the situation was well at hand as Major Hurn charged through the door, close to being the last man in.

Kallan charged his rifle, smiling with the hum of the weapon. “Eltee, take your men and explore the underground of this tower, I’m betting there is some sort of escape or stronghold. Second squad, you’re with me, let’s move as soon as third and fourth hit the roof.”

Promptly, bangalore charges exploded on top of the roof and the Major could here the door busting inwards, hurried automatic fire, then “CLEAR!”

“Let’s move,” he said, grinning. Taking a position at the middle of the line of men, the officer followed quickly in pace, moving up the spiral staircase. This was a perimeter radar station and defense point, as soon as they took it and destroyed the facility the real invasion could begin. One rendered the enemy blind and deaf before, not after the major battle.

In the front of the line, Lance Corporal Hans Ulbrich’s senses were on high, and his pulse was pounding in his chest. It was not his first drop, but it was his most dangerous. They say the first one kept you alive, the second seasoned you, and the third made you cocky. Well, Ulbrich was on number three. He wiped sweat dripping off his face with the back of a sweaty palm, doing nothing but further muddying the issue.

The pirate that leapt through an open door and put a blaster bold into his shoulder didn’t do anything to help, either. Sergeant Hayes grabbed the man by the strap on the back of his armor vest and private Jassir plugged the goblin, sending blaster bolts through him and careening down the hall. A grenade rolled, and then battle was fully joined. One brigand screamed as a knife went through his thigh, he was lucky it didn’t hit home in his kidney, where it was supposed to. Automatic weapons fire wiped out an entire room of insurgents, and for the most part, the Marines fully took the objective, advancing up the stairs without pause. Civilian pirates could simply not stand up to the unceasing attack of the marines who were, arguably, better than Special Forces at what they did. Where Special Forces soldiers were trained to do a myriad of tasks, the men of the CMC were trained to kill, and nothing but that.

Kallan ejected his spent cell, loaded another, pulled back the charging bolt, and it was over. He looked at his chronometer, it had been barely two minutes, but like always, it had felt like a lifetime. He tried to wipe his brow again, but failed just as poor moaning Lance Corporal Ulrich had. It was hot as hell of Fornax.

A medic attended to the man, then put him in a fireman carry to bring him back to the ‘ship, he’d be fine, just a burn wound, although he needed bacta and antiseptic treatment.

Kallan watched the medic moved down the stairs, burdened by his comrade, then nodded to Sergeant Hayes. It was time to move on up, and to forget the casualty.

Kallan sat down on the permacrete top of the building, pulling out a pair of macrobinoculars. He gauged for distance and could see the myriad companies and platoons of the Mad Dogs main invasion landing, spreading fire across the city.

He vaguely remembered some quote about not waking a sleeping dragon, and that was what reminded him of what was happening. One of the dropships assaulting the north exploded in a fireball, taking the lives of a platoon with it.

"Vars, you've got your assault. Break for coordinates echo three three four seven, re-inforce third in their attack, they just lost a dropship."

He switched frequencies to naval, and contacted the commander of the Al Mouana. "Vyers," he began, putting his macrobinoculars down,” We’ve got some problems at the north end of the city. They've brought up a tracked ground-to-air attack system, and it's given our transports hell. I need your snubfighters to knock it out of action."

There was a pause; he was communicating with someone in atmosphere, after all, then a simple "Executed, Major."

He put back up his 'binocs just in time to see a darting shape fire something, then something explode on the ground.

"Man, he may be creepy, but he sure knows what the hell he's doin'," Hayes said, walking up behind the man. "Spaceport is secured; Mantau is setting up a roving guard to keep everyone out. The main com relay and sensors are all disabled, so we can bring em' back up after we're done with these goblins."

Kallan brought the viewing device back down again, and then spoke to the man, thumping his boots against the side of the tower, legs dangling.

"Sounds good. We'll be heading out in a sec to support the main assault, coming up from the south. Get that pilot to bring the transport up here; I don't want to have to walk back down again."

He got up, dusting himself off and putting up the binoculars, then adjusted his web harness.

"Marines have to walk to far anyway."

*************************
In his private office atop the mining headquarters building, Xiao Xjangu slammed a fist onto his expensive hand-crafted table, scattering caff all over the floor and making his assistant jump.

”I have worked too long, spent too much of my life to found this empire for this…this…simpleton marine to ruin it all! Raaaaaagh!”

His fist sideswiped through an expensive glass sculpture, hitting the wall with a smash and breaking into a thousand glimmers. Xjangu grimaced with pain, holding his hand and flicking long black hair out of his eyes. Blood was leaking out of him, blood that had never been drawn before, and this made him angry. Angry that he himself had done it, angry at the man who had caused it and the organization that man had toppled.

Bloodied fist in one hand, one word hissed through the man’s lips.

”Hurn…”

He wiped his hand on a silk drape, just in time for an orderly to come with a bandage to place over it. Bowing deeply, the man took his lord’s hand and wrapped it delicately, retreating fleetly once his small task was finished.

“Prepare my ship,” Xjangu said. “Our fight here is over and lost. Tell the men that they will be receiving reinforcments soon, and are to stay put and defend.”

The subservient man he was speaking to muttered a yessir and bowed, fleeing the man’s presence. It wasn’t wise to tarry around the man that held so much power, especially when it was being taken away.

The slightly asiatic Xiao looked out his window, just in time to see a pair of snubfighters swoop down, to destroy a tracked vehicle. He could see the transports landing and troops moving closer and closer in, could catch a whiff of the smell of battle.

And it all only reminded him of one man, one Major Kallan J. Hurn, who had destroyed three of his bases, about to be four. It did not matter that the man was taking orders, it did not matter that the man was only a pawn. A mighty pawn, but only one.

If he could not be toppled on the battlefield, he would fall to his knees off of it.

Kallan hit the ground with a roll, crouch-running into cover, his rifle firing off random bursts in the general direction of the enemy.

When in doubt, spray it out.

“Shee-yit! They’re fighting something fierce, what are they sitting on, an ammo dump?” Kallan said, slamming his back against a concrete road barricade, holding his rifle above cover, spraying blaster rounds.

“I dunnno, boss,” CO of second Njangu Yoshitaro said, slumping next to his commander, re-loading his rifle. “I’d say they’re either about to get re-supplied and re-inforced, or they’ve been told to hold out to the last man. I don’t think pirates do the second one very often, do you?”

Kallan brought his rifle back down, reloading it as well. “Good thinking. In that case, we’ll force them to a stalemate, you know how to do that, huh? I’ll take my platoon up this hotel and to the roof for better AOA.”

The man grinned, pulling the charging bolt back. “Jaansma! Get your ass over here!”

A weary “Sir yes sir!” came from behind a building, and a gasping PFC Garvin Jaansma came after that. Yoshitaro had the man carrying one of the old-style com units, a full backpack unit, plus ammo and blasting charges for a small army. He flopped down, taking the ‘com off of his back and handing it to his commander.

“Alright, first and fourth, flank west down alley 337, second and third, keep fire down. If you can, move forward, but keep in cover until I give you the signal.”

Kallan nodded, his eyes gleaming with pride. His men were like his own sons, and Njangu was making him proud. Although one of the least senior, Yoshitaro was incredibly gifted and one of the only capable of keeping a leash on Jaansma. “let’s move,” Kallan said, crouching into a run. A trigger-happy sniper pumped three rounds at Mantau, but only succeeded in skipping one off of the pavement into a now-cursing corporal’s thigh. In the shady copse of the hotel lobby, Hurn could make out the silhouettes of his twelve men and grinning as-always Hayes, the men already running up the stairs.

“Sybil on actual, this is Kyra Four,” Vinita came over the com. “I’ve seen no reports of activity on the roof, but I have seen them bringing up some kath hound rocket launchers to the front. Advise?”

Kallan scratched the stubble on his chin with both hands, letting his rifle hang off the web harness. “Nothing, I’ll have it covered in no time. Mark the last reported co-ordinates on my datapad.”

The Major motioned up the stairs to Hayes and started up himself, breath coming hard and slow. He hadn’t realized how tired he was really getting and how fatigued he was until he could hear his breath through the rebreather. Orange light filtered through the windows, every now and then illuminating dust scattered by nearby explosions. Hayes stopped near one window, eyes enraptured with the sunset.

“It’s like home, man,” he said, touching the window. “Beautiful even if there’s war goin’ on. The universe doesn’t care who dies today, the sun will keep on setting.”

Kallan raised an eyebrow at the man, stopping and looking out the window as well. “When did you get so damn philosophical?”

“I always have,” the huge black man grinned, ”You just never listened.