The lights were low and the conversations subdued. The droids on the bridge chirped and warbled while the human counterparts felt a sense of awe. Officers moved about issuing commands though their voices were hushed if not pensive. Enlisted men moved about not saying a word. Whether out of respect or fear, many knew not – doubtless both.


Many a man would have done more, snapping under the tension felt on the command deck. But not these men. The green and black uniforms, the blue-green jumpsuits all had in common a white lined-slip of black on their sleeves, the words Inter Arma Silent Leges Nicht emblazed in white on the black background of the cuff title. These were the men of the Imperial Guard.


For the entire course of the eight-legged journey, their commander had not ventured from his secluded quarters at the base of the command tower. Now, the final reversion from hyperspace imminent, word spread like wildfire that he was taking a slow march to the bridge. Most of those present knew him and all knew of him but he had been gone from his flock for some time, taking up ad hoc commands on the very fringe of civilized space battling the barbaric minions in the Unknowns. He had won the laurels he deserved, the Legion of Merit now hanging beneath the coveted Imperial Cross at his neck – they had all seen the propaganda holos. Unlike many heroes of the Empire, however, this man was just as he was in person as on recruiting posters. Shined jackboots, an immaculate white uniform, polished rank plaque, and all the badges of office, military and aristocratic, on his tunic.


The bridge fell silent as a squad of Fleet troopers came to attention next to the aft turbolifts. The click of their boots together filled the expansive command deck, hands clasping hard cleaned rifles echoing throughout. The doors slid open to admit the commander of the Imperial Guard.


“ Reversion in thirty seconds,” commented the hyper-nav officer, himself of many a campaign with the newly arrived gentleman. He knew while he loved circumstance and the regality of the Empire, nothing would be permitted to jeopardize victory. Or a glorious death in battle.


“ Very well. Upon reversion raise shields, deploy the Autarch’s Defender squadrons in close-in picket formation. Hold other ships in hot-standby. Stand-to all weapons. Gloria Imperium.”


The Captain smiled, leading the siungular cheer of the Guard. “ Gloria Imperium!!!”


Fleet Admiral-Baron Telan Desaria had returned to the front.




The Imperial Guard

1st Assault Squadron
Reign-class Star Destroyer Autarch (2000m)
Imperial III-class Star Destroyer Suvorov (1600m)
Imperial III-class Star Destroyer Imperious
VSD III Praetorian (900m)
: 4 Fire-class Light Frigates (FCLF)
: 2 Constrainer-class Interdiction Picket (IP)

10th Response Detachment
: 4 Fire-class Light Frigates (FCLF)
: 6 Shroud-class Reconnaissance Vessels

In its classic wedged formation, the Imperial Guard pressed on. One mighty Reign-class Destroyer took its place at the van, two slightly smaller but nevertheless potent Imperial-III class Destroyers on its haunches. Sitting behind the forward most ship was the VSD Praetorian, its hundred proton warhead launchers at the ready to immolate any threat. Around the quartet of battleships buzzed four small frigates, a pair of Interdictors in the rear – globes on and running. The 10th Squadron remained dutifully to the rear as a small but efficient reserve.


The Guard moved on, no useless chatter between its component warships. The worlds of the Anzat system looming larger and larger as the Imperials sauntered deeper towards the sun. Passing below the giant but lifeless world of Hurrabb, many an officer and crewman looked up to view the barren rock, its purple and blue hue truly breathtaking against a field of white star-dotted black.


Shots rang out from the Frigate Fire III, what remained of an incoming meteorite spinning harmlessly away while its fellows were sizzled into nothing against the transparent shields humming usefully in the night. No sooner than a query was sent from the largest vessel in the bite-size armada was an answer returned and all traffic silent oncemore.


Aboard the Autarch, Fleet-Admiral Desaria could be proud of the stoic actions of his men. Resistance to the Empire was expected but would be light at best – that notwithstanding, the men of the Guard knew death to be an ever-present companion, a mate every time a uniform was donned. They faced it with lament but the same zeal as their commander.


“ Admiral, we are being querried by perimeter defense.”


“ Type and designation?” demanded calmly the Kuati nobleman.


“ Two Immnan-class Pickets, each one-hundred meters in length with two heavy laser cannon and a micro-missile launcher. Maximum stowed projectiles – ten.”


Desaria shut his eyes, saying a silent prayer to Athena, the Kuati goddess of war and patron saint to all generals. Opening them again, he acted as his sealed orders bade him act.


“ Communications to all indigenous vessels – civil and military band.” Upon acknowledgement from a warrant officer in the crewpit, Desaria spoke. “ By order of His Excellency the Regent of the Galactic Empire and the Executors of his Will the Imperial High Command, the system of Anzat is hereby annexed. As such, forces operating under the guise of the defensive militia are commanded to stand down. Heavy weapons must be returned to their armories and all vessels to display mounted weapons at maximum elevation.


“ Officers are permitted to retain their pistols as long as they act within the confines of the rules of honour.


“ Failure to act according to these orders will result in the destruction of all parties who resist.”


With that, Desaria nodded his executive officer and captain of the Autarch who understood perfectly the silent order. Tactical command thusly order all weapons armed and all projectile launchers loaded. The waiting game was now afoot.

Commodore Palleton listened with a keen ear at the words echoing over his bridge. The voice speaking them was distinctly Imperial and while with every syllable the arrogant flag officer of propaganda not possessing of any malice or ill will. He knew then this man did his duty to the best of his ability not because he supported fanatically every policy announced by Coruscanti paper-hangers but because the Empire was his home.


“ By order of His Excellency the Regent of the Galactic Empire and the Executors of his Will the Imperial High Command, the system of Anzat is hereby annexed. As such, forces operating under the guise of the defensive militia are commanded to stand down. Heavy weapons must be returned to their armories and all vessels to display mounted weapons at maximum elevation.

“ Officers are permitted to retain their pistols as long as they act within the confines of the rules of honour.

“ Failure to act according to these orders will result in the destruction of all parties who resist.”


The bridge, if it could be called that, became eerily calm. Palleton and a handful of his staff were career officers but most of the men called upon to crew the Kalisaur were conscripts. They had been shoddily trained at best, rushed through the programme at the wish of a Prime Minister eager to make good on his promise to enlarge the planetary militia. Looking around, Palleton wished the scheming politician had purchased newer ships instead of drafting a city’s worth of young men into the navy.


“ Commander Idlekki.” Palleton turned to his right-hand-man, a Twi-lekki. The two had fought side by side briefly as mercenaries with the Orlong Rangers before settling down on Anzat. He was among the few officers wearing the ridiculous red uniform of the Anzati Militia he could trust implicitly.


“ Commodore?” Idlekki turned from his nearby console where he poured over a tactical readout of the Imperial deployment.


“ Suggestions?”


The officer came closer as to slip from earshot of those men nearby. “ They have a Reign-class Star Destroyer at the center of that squadron. That Victory-class Destroyer in the rear could wipe this entire command out with half its weapons gone and a droid crew.”


Palleton let loose a snort of contempt for what he called a command: one old Carrack Cruiser with the Imperial emblems almost visible through a thin coat of paint and twelve corvettes – he did not even bother counting the dozen pickets whose manufacture had been procured at a discount by CEC. Two of the latter had been rearmed, now mounting four heavy turbolasers on them but even that paled in comparison to what the arrived force could call upon to fight.


“ Commodore!” barked an ensign, young and eager. He approached and stood and rigid attention until acknowledged by the aged human. “ Prime Minister Horuth demands your counsel.”


Oh he does, does he? “ Put him through.”


Palleton and Idlekki turned to an adjacent monitor that filled with the plush office of the senior member of the Anzati government and the corpulent, tusked Phillinium prime minister himself.


“ Commodore, I have just been informed of the arrival of some Imperials wanting to annex Anzat. I will not allow this. Eliminate them.”


Palleton could not believe the sheer incompetence of the blundering politician but did his best to restrain himself anyway. “ Mr. Prime Minister, the Empire has sent four Destroyers to annex Anzat. One of them could sweep the entire defense force aside. I must advise you to…reconsider…you decision of defiance. I do not want to see Anzat in their hands any more than you do, but if they attack civilians will die.”


“ What???” the Prime Minister exploded. “ How dare you speak such defeatist nonsense! You are relieved. Commander - - take the militia and eradicate this Imperial threat!”


Palleton sighed and slumped back in his chair, but was heartened by the refusal of Idlekki to assume command, citing the needless waste of lives. The Prime Minister exploded again, raging on and on at the two experienced officers until Palleton saw the same young ensign approach, pistol in hand.

Fleet Admiral Desaria read over the transcript of sliced communications channels in use by the Anzati militia. One moment an officer named Palleton was refusing to engage, the next an officer named Coragan, promoted to Commodore by the Prime Minister, was issuing haphazard and useless commands to defeat the oncoming Imperial dogs.


Fools, Desaria thought, rubbing thumb and forefinger gently over his forehead. Sure enough, he listened to the tactical operations officer report six corvettes and a light cruiser charging full speed towards the Guard, six more coming from hiding places on the far side of Anzat itself.


“ Sir, the corvettes are outrunning the Carrack. They are firing from the hip but are still two minutes out of range.”


“ Whomever took command obviously has no knowledge of how to lead a fleet into battle. It is unfortunate but unavoidable. All ships slow to one-quarter. Guns – target the lead ships with forward heavy turbolaser cannon and fire by battery. All other ships – hold fire until ordered. Perhaps we can talk some sense into them.”


Vorran closed with Desaria. “ Admiral, they have jammed all transmissions. I doubt they want to talk.”


“ Pity. A waste of ships we could have used. Guns - - fire when ready.”

The very fabric of space sizzled as the first shots of the day were fired. Bravely came the Anzati Defense Force corvettes, firing themselves as rapidly as their light armament would allow. Damned by the Fates, their weapons were of too short a range the blasts either dissipating or veering wildly off course before any hits could be registered. The battleships of the Imperial Guard, however, mounted long-range heavy turbolasers that belched fire and light into the darkness.


Firing first as a warning, the Imperial gunners held onto their energy until orders were handed down the battery commanders. Reports quickly came from the bridge that the approaching ships had not slowed and were still firing – the gloves came off. Targeting via droid or over open sights, the bow guns loosed a hellish cannonade. Two leading Corellian-made vessels were consumed in balls of flame, smoldering wrecks all that remained when the last residue of oxygen had burned. Twin blasts from a turbolaser turrets slammed into the dorsal spine of another ship, its shields battered back into nothingness, breaking its back. Pushed by the equalitarian Hand of Inertia, the pieces continued on until vaporized by the forward Fire-class Frigates.


Six corvettes of varying classes continued on, still outpacing the heavier ship behind them – all moving unfazed by the effortless dispatch of their fellows. Resuming their lethal work, the officers and men serving guns in the bellies of the wedge-shaped Destroyers stood back as each piece recoiled from a single volley. Two more red blips disappeared from the Imperial screens.


“ All ships – cease turbolaser fire. Stand-to all ion cannon and fire at will.”


Captain Mikell Vorran let out a breath unconsciously held before relaying the orders of Admiral Desaria to his flagship. Simultaneously, the tactical officers and communications personnel spread the news of the change: in moment, bolts of blue overwhelmed the neon interruptions in the black expanse before it was the only colour seen.


“ Ready boarding parties.”

The lights flickered for a moment before succumbing to death. Alone in the darkness of a Spartan but expansive brig cell, Commodore Palleton felt his former flagship shudder underfoot, the recoil of her ten light turbolasers shaking deck and bulkhead alike. That pasty-faced ensign he once entrusted with an away mission had doubtless shunted all power to the forward shields, a move he recognized instantly as faulty. Carrack-class Light Cruisers were designed to deliver broadsides and this man pronounced the new Commodore by the Prime Minister did not realize it.


A new series of movements interrupted the Commodore’s thoughts, these unmistakably foreign in reason. Palleton heard a string of Twi’lekki profanity coming from the adjacent cell but he was only able to indentify a rather harsh comparison of the acting commander’s mother to a Twi’lekki multi-mating wild boar. When his first officer switched to Basic, Palleton gave a hearty laugh – Idlekki had been thrown from the bed by the ship’s jostling.


“ What’s your take on this?” Palleton asked, the security officer too preoccupied monitoring the bridge comm. traffic to shut them up.


“ My guess – the Imps have switched to ion cannon and want this ship in tact. Our corvettes cant stand up to them and are probably all gone by now. This can be used for occupation duties though and isn’t too far off their scope of usable craft.”


“ My thoughts exactly. You know – we almost avoided bloodshed. Almost.”


“ Shockball and frag-grenades, my friend.”


Many a moment of tense silence passed as both men resigned themselves to their fate - - the ardent but misguided patriotism of the crew above and its dedicated but hideously inexperienced commander would bring the afterlife into view sooner than expected.


Thoughts were again interrupted but this time from something much closer. Both officers stood but quickly had to brace themselves on whatever was near. Alarm klaxons sounded, their telling screech resounding through the corridors. Red lights illuminated the security office and the pair of occupied cells. A stream of plasma was hissing forth from a ruptured conduit atop the door. Fruitlessly, the security officer did his best to seal it; seeing he could not, he rushed out for assistance from a damage control team.


Palleton’s ears perked as over the din of rushing steam, explosions, and the buzzing of his containment field he heard what he thought was a blaster. His suspicion was confirmed when he heard the words spoken over the open receiver on a nearby console. “ Shots fired - - Imperial troops have entered the ship!!!”

Major Michael Edmonton, Earl of Asterbruch, let out a scowl. Reaching up with gloved hand, he brushed his fingers alongside the hard surface of his duty-helmet. As whenever he donned it, Edmonton felt distinctly…naked. As an aristocrat he was more at home in the peaked visor cap of an officer of the Fleet Assault Corps; that is not to say he was unaccustomed to combat for indeed he had an Imperial Cross and the Legion of Merit to his credit. He was simply cut from the same cloth as the commander of the Imperial Guard: he enjoyed the finer accoutrement of a uniform.


That in mind, he was very thankful he wore the helmet along with the breast-plate body armor mandated on all boarding missions. Shots were zinging past his head, some removed by a matter of centimeters at best. Glancing back, he looked at the collection of men he was leading – a squad of stormtroopers separated from their platoon when their shuttle cut open the hull and another two squads of FAC troopers, all that remained of a three-squad platoon cut down by a hidden laser gate.


“…Eddie, move around to your right. There’s a short corridor leading to the brig. Once there, you can cut through the bulkhead and come in behind that E-web.”


Edmonton winced at the mention of his well-intentioned nickname – he didn’t like it but it had caught on before he could stop it. He made a mental note to strangle his Academy classmate, Lieutenant-Colonel Reinard, when the mission was done. Relaying the command to his men, he checked the power cell of his blaster-pistol. Twelve shots left. Giving out a scream, he and his men dashed from their position as best they could to avoid the fire coming from down the hall.


Turning the corner, the Imperials found only one man, a sergeant, clutching a heavy repeating rifle he could barely hold. He fired as best he could being the only soul on a two-man weapon, hitting one of the stormtroopers. The shot hit the man’s armor and left a gaping hole and would have killed him had the duraplast not absorbed most of the energy. In the time Edmonton turned to see his downed fellow, one of his white-armored peers poured three shots into the enemy soldier’s chest with admirable grouping.


The Imperials moved on and though hunched and in near-fetal positions, made a quick journey to hallway’s end. The door was open and in rushed two of the stormtroopers. The FAC men followed and fanned out across the brig.


“ Major!” yelled the FAC platoon’s lieutenant, a sandy-haired boy who looked plucked from the beaches of Riflor. Edmonton rushed over to him and was as surprised as the junior officer was to find two uniformed members of the ship’s crew, unarmed, and locked behind holding-fields.


“ Who are you?’ asked the Major, lowering his pistol so the two men could see the rank plaque atop his armor.


The taller of the two men, a human, moved to the field’s edge. “ Commodore Jerald Palleton, Commander of the Anzati Defense Force. In the cell next to me is my first officer, Commander Sis’Idlekki.”


Edmonton asked the obvious question. “ So why are you here?” queried the officer with understandable puzzlement.


“ The short version is that I’ve engaged your Destroyers before and I know what chance our dozen corvettes had. I suggested talking to our Prime Minister who wasn’t taken with the idea. I was relieved and when Commander Idlekki refused to assume leadership of the fleet, if you can call it that, he was relieved as well. Some junior officer then had us arrested for want of patriotism and assumed control himself. An ensign if I’m not mistaken.”


Major Edmonton turned away motioning the two prisoners wait and activated his helmet-transceiver. “ Colonel – I’ve stumbled upon something a bit unusual…”


“ Have you taken that E-web down yet Eddie?” the Colonel asked from the safety of a docked Sentinel-class Shuttle.


“ This is more important…”

First Lieutenant Harkiss dove from his crouched position, landing behind a console in the aft control corridor. Perhaps a dozen soldiers had the entrance to the bridge sealed, supported by twenty or so regular crewmen wielding whatever side arms could be taken from the weapons locker before it was overrun. Turning to where he had been, Harkiss saw the crumbled form of an FAC lance corporal not quick enough to avoid an untimely demise.


Righting himself behind the terminal, Harkiss bounced up and squeezed off three shots at a target ten meters away – both shots missed. Gritting his teeth, he pulled a blue-painted Ullfig – ULFG or Ultra-Light Fragmentation Grenade. The officer removed the safety clip and hurled it down the corridor. Air whooshed from his lungs as molecules of sulfur and tritus combined to create the intended explosion. Flames leapt from surface to surface while a tongue of fire caught the sleeve of a nearby Anzati who did his best to swat it. His actions of fire suppression were futile as it burned deep and began consuming his flesh – with that his patting grew more frantic. He leapt up accompanied by a yell of agony from his lungs. That did not last long, however as the lieutenant fired another pair of shots that silenced his scream and ended his pain.


Several troopers took advantage of the chaos and smoke to advance as far as they could so when Harkiss looked back, six men had joined the four already there. His trained assault troops bore a cold determination on their faces, each one knowing not all would return to the belly Suvarov. Filled with the knowledge of certain death, the soldiers of the Guard carried on with a morose shadenfreude known to only the best units.


“ Ready Boss?” asked Private Gonaraus, who then jabbed a finger at a nearby NCO. “ Sergeant Allts is itching for a promotion!”


Harkiss looked back with a toothy smile and chided his subaltern. “ You should never wish that sort of thing on someone. Think of all the work Alltie would have to do as an officer - - he hates paperwork now!!!”


The men laughed anew, some still chortling to themselves as the group rose to its feet. DL-44 Blastech rifles in their hands, the FAC troopers gave off a hellish battle cry as they charged down the hall. Orange bolts of energy seared the air to and fro, the combatants on both sides doing battle with identical arms. A black-uniformed Fleet Assault man fell to the ground, clutching at his scarred armor. One of his fellows, a female of like rank, stooped to give him aide but was cut down all the same.


Lieutenant Harkiss said a silent prayer for the fallen as he stormed into the final stretch of the control corridor, then a prayer for himself when he ran through the breech and into the open single-level bridge itself. The guarding laser gate had been nullified by the frag-grenade, saving half the attackers.


Entering the bridge, First Lieutenant Harkiss ran into a tall and lanky man wearing a flamboyant green uniform bearing a junior-officer’s insignia. The man was frantically trying to clear the jam in his newer model MerrSonn pistol – they fired an energy bolts like any other pistol but the charges were cased, empty rounds ejecting after each shot. Harkiss liked the power it offered but his line of work required a high volume of fire – hence his TaggeCo. Arms ZX-81.


The enemy officer gave up on the weapon as Harkiss neared, instead removing a dagger attacked at his hip. Before he could draw it, the Imperial was upon him who hit him hard across the face with the barrel of his gun. The young man went down holding a broken jaw with both hands. Harkiss looked around to see his remaining four men corralling the Anzati crewmen who had decided on discretion as the better part of valour.


“ Who…commands…here?” Harkiss asked, breathing heavily as he adjusted from the rush of adrenaline every engagement brought.


“ Ens…Commodore Corogan.” One of the captured crewmen pointed to the lump sprawled in pain on the deck.


Harkiss activated his helmet mike triumphantly. “ 1st Platoon CO to Bravo Company HQ. We have secured the bridge and have the ship’s commander in custody.”

Above Anzat, all action had ceased. What remained of the Anzati Defense Force, five gunships in all, had departed the system with distasteful haste when the Carrack was boarded. A veritable flotilla of civil craft accompanied them in a near complete evacuation of the orbital tracts above the red and brown world.


The expansive form of the Autarch passed the captured Anzati flagship, its bridge officers watching assault shuttles and landing barges hustle to and fro from the Imperial III-class Destroyer Suvorov which had moved into position to complete its capture. Admiral Desaria looked out, taking in the view, before turning back to the depths of his bridge. He gave once glance to the pad in hand then looked to his first officer. “ Bring him to me.”


Twenty-Minutes Later….


Admiral Desaria sat upon his throne of command and took measure of the man brought before him. That he was Anzati was not in doubt, such origins given away by the ridges in his forehead and the secondary nostrils above his primary. His skin, however, was a brighter hue that suggested a more humanoid lineage than most. When the action was over and Anzat firmly in Imperial hands, Desaria fully intended to solve the question his mind has posed. That was for another time, though.


“ Commodore Palleton. You are commanding officer of the Anzati Defense Force?”


“ I was,” the native officer replied, tugging at the white sash lain from shoulder to hip across his maroon tunic. “ I alluded that not resisting Imperial conquest would save more lives than defending against it. I was removed by the Prime Minister and another officer assumed command.”


“ You speak of Commodore Coragan?”


The Anzati manipulated his mouth into a vile sneer. “ Coragan is an ensign whose heart outweighed his mind.”


An ensign. That explains the easier than expected dispatch of his fleet, and its piece-meal commitment to battle. “ I take a certain pleasure then in informing you your usurper is in captivity as well. I choose you as rightful commander to act as parliamentary in the matter of the surrender of Anzat.”


The Commodore did not miss a beat. “ Admiral, I would be lying if I said I did not respect you, more now for your gallantry, but I cannot act in such a fashion. The Prime Minister controls Anzat.”


“ Commodore, this is your home, is it not?”


“ The adopted home of my mother, yes.”


That explains that. “ I would also be lying if I said harm would not come to your world if it does not acquiesce. I refuse as does the Guard from shelling innocent civilians however – other commanders are not so discriminate. If Admiral Alosq or Vice Admiral Trachta were ordered to turn Anzat into slag they would not hesitate. I know personally the latter and he would not wait for orders to do so. I ask you for the sake of those alive – speak with your Prime Minister.”


The Commodore thought for a moment. His eyes then met Desaria’s. “ I will do as you ask. But I must have your word you will not shell the surface.”


“ My word is given. And an officer of the Imperial Guard will keep his word to the grave.”

The Prime Minister listened to the words of a traitor. He felt a rage growing within him and knew there could be no other word to describe Palleton. The man listened and with every word he heard, his four nostrils flared more and more.


“…if we do not resist them, we will be admitted into the Empire without question. If we do not surrender, many of our homes, our towns, our cities – and our families – will be destroyed. Admiral Desaria has assured us that we will be afforded all rights granted any Imperial Citizen. Resistance would mean death to most of us – surrendering means a quiet acceptance of the inevitable.”


Prime Minister Horuth slammed a hand onto the receiver control to silence the transmission, glad when its blasphemous chords no longer echoed in his office. Turning, he gave the assemblage a cold stare.


“ What of the Army?”


General Xaxil folded his hands across his lap. “ Thirteen battalions of militia have taken up defensive positions in the city and I have stationed a regiment of regulars in the government quarter. What armor we have is just outside the city on the Plains of Marhab.”


“ The other cities?”


The young military officer tugged at his collar, uneasy in the position he had been given only an hour ago after the execution of his predecessor. “ I have given total control to garrison commanders. On the average, perhaps ten to fifteen thousand per city. We have sixteen major cities to defend and only enough resources to defend five. We are spread dangerously thin.”


“ They will hold. I am sure of it.”


Xaxil wanted to laugh at the politician’s arrogance and total disconnection with reality. The men he was speaking of would do their duty – until faced with a heavy turbolaser barrage from above then they would throw their duty to the side along with their weapons. There were far from enough regulars to bolster the one-week per month trained militiamen. All he could do was get as far away from this idiot as possible.


“ Can we expect any support from the Navy?”


Xaxil held his breath - - the aged officer, only a Captain but as respected throughout as Palleton had been, confessed earlier that he would not lie. He held true to his word. “ No, Minister, you can not. Those units that survived the orbital engagement fled. We have lost contact with them.”


“ Very well, “ Horuth replied. “ To your posts then. I await report of your victories. We’ll smash them as they land.”


Xaxil sighed to himself but was quick to leave the man’s office before he opened his mouth, inserted his foot, then kissed his life good-bye.