Deep Space
Super-Star Destroyer Midas

Like everything else on the Midas, the executive conference room was gigantic. A long, thin, rectangular room, it stretched along the length of a huge table which occupied a majority of the rooms floor space. The chairs at the table were plush and inviting; the table itself seemed to be made of a rare hardwood and was exquisitly polished so thats its finish felt like some plastic or metallic material. The floor was carpeted in a thick, velvet-like, black material, and the walls matched that color with an odd design of intricatly laced concentric circles of varying shades of black and gray. Lighting came from high overhead, as the rooms ceilings were at least 15 feet high. The source of the light were several ornate lightning fixtures, which despite their efectivness seemed to conceal some other function in the massive fascades. There was only a single door way (at least visibly) at the far end of the room, near the foot of the table. At the exterior of the door, a pair of deadly looking security droids, oversized blaster rifles in hand, guarded the enterance. The room was located deep in the bowels of the massive Super Star Destroyer, shielded by the sheer mass of everything around it. It was a considerable distance for the ships cavernous hangars, and a similiarly long distance from critical nerve centers like the ships primary, auxillary and emergency bridges, and computer core. Yet despite those facts, th moment Brutus Nogoth stepped across the threshold of the doorway, past the two rigid droids, he felt an aura of power greater than any other part of the ship he had so far seen.

The room was only lightly occupied, but after Brutus sat, the door began slidding open more and more often, and the room quickly filled up. At the head of the table, the area farthest from the door, the massive highbacked chair of the Chairman sat, the chair's back turned maleviolently away from the assemblage. Other than that, the room was alive with color and face- as the whole reach of the mighty Union was revealed. The olive skin of Black Sun's head vigo, Prince Gorma, was contrasted against the long golden hair of a human female Brutus recognized as the current leader of the Liberty Sect- a terrorist organization operating in the Ison corridor. The three captains of industry- the legitament side of the Union- were conversing on the other side of the table, the bussiness suits of Rico Belgardi and Edipus Tagge layered with Hilter Afdol's more subdued attire. Their corporations: Belgardi Limited, Tagge Company and Agro Incorporated provided the Union with nearly unlimited pockets- and the Union was there if the comapnies ever need service outside what shareholders or boards of directors might find acceptable. A man in a military style uniform, Brutus recognized him as the liason from The Exchange, was sitting rather uncomfortably next to another well dressed military officer, Markus Thule, a former general and current high ranking member of the Jutraalian Syndicate. An intimidating alien of a species Brutus didn't immediatly recognize was sitting a little further down the table, apparently listening intently to a man Brutus recognized as Tir Esias- whose affiliation brutus himself wasn't even aware of. The remaining spots around the table were filled with others Brutus wasn't personally acquinted with.

There was a light din of conversation as the different groups talked , all waiting for the meeting to start. Brutus was about to get up and have a word with Hilter, when there was a rapp on hardwood table. The noise died down quickly, as all heads turned to see what had caused the sound. Most looked toward the head of the table, but ound the Chairman's chair still remained faced toward the wall. Brutus's eyes swiveled from the Chairman, toward the othe side of the table. The tip of Tir Esias's cane was resting on the table. The large alien had sat down in his seat next to the man. Tir's large round, black tinted glasses stared out at the occupants of the room.

"I think it's time, that we begin."

Brutus could almost perceptivly feel the power behind those words, and wondered who exactly Tir Esias was, and to whom his services fell. The rest of the Union members returned to their seats, and the room took on a hushed silence. After a moment they heard a voice come from the head of the table. The Chairman, Estro Sabrino, was speaking- but he still hadn't faced his chair toward the group.

"Welcome directors. I am pleased you could all attend."

Brutus wondered how the Chairman knew everyone was here, since he had not faced the whole chamber yet, but figured that the man had some way. His eyes flitted around for secret cameras, but he saw no trace of any.

"I would like to commend all of you for your continued service to the Union. At the present time all facets of the Union are proceeding forward quite nicely. However, since we have not been together for sometime, I would like to start with a update from our various groups. Director Belgardi."

The collective eyes of the group turned toward the head of Belgardi Ltd.

"Belgardi Limited is currently progressing at a rate unseen since our affiliation with the Union. Our recent deal with the Black Dragon Empire, negotiated in part by the Union, has expanded our operations to tibanna mining, and increased cashflow exponentially. I would like to express my continued confidence in the partnership between Belgardi and our esteemed group."

"Thank you Director Belgardi. Now I would like to introduce you to our newest director, Edipus Tagge, recently installed head of the galactically reknown corporation, TaggeCo. Director Tagge."

"Thank you Mr. Chairman. I would simply like to state my firm commitment and loyalty to the Union. It is becuase of their assisstance that I can continue pushing TaggeCo forward to a bright future in the galaxy."

"Thank you Director Tagge. Now we shal continue with Dir.....

The meeting coninued with the reports for a short while, Brutus wondering if the Chairman would call on him, while at the same time intruiged by the many levels and groups which had been funneled and united to form th organization. From what Brutus could gather from most of the reports, the Union was clicking on all cylinders- its power steadily growing. There were no indications of any problems, until the Chairman began speaking with the liason from The Exchange.

"and thus I would like to say that at the current time, The Exchange values our current agreement and that we will continue our expansion operations as we see fit to assist the development"

The Exchange's liason was not the "Director" or leader of the group- he was a lackey. It was obvious from his speech he was reading or reciting something he had memorized for this occassion.

"and so..."

For the first time the Chairman cut in on someone's speech.

"Mr. Talig."

The liason stopped, unsure of what to make of the Chairman's interruption.

"Where is Director Kooror?"

"Director Kooror is currently dealing with matters critical to the success of our..."

The Chairman cut off Talig again.

"Mr. Talig I will not tolerate lieing in my organization."

The Chairman's voice, though calm, had a deadly force behind it.

"Now, please, tell me where Director Kooror is?"

Talig began to sweat, and his hand was shaking.

"Director Kooror is currently on Tatooine cultivating a network of informants..."

"And why is Director Kooror not on Ryloth, as I suggested him to be?"

Talig swallowed hard.

"I do not..."

"Yes you do Mr Talig."

The large chair slowly turned, revealing a shaded figure. It stopped halfway, allowing the group to see a siloutte of the Chairman, but nothing more.

"Director Kooror had the oppurtunity to expand his organization, by going to Ryloth and meeting with a certain Twi'lek, Cleivge Hintona. Mr. Hintona inhertieted a large network organization, the remaints of the Diversity Alliance, and has expressed an intrest in linking up with another group. However Directot Kooror is an anti-alien bigot, and instead of courting this alliance is currently planning on breaking the Exchange from our group. His bussiness on Tatooine is to speak with contacts left over from the many criminal organizations there- to plan an operation to destroy this group, not to help it. Perhaps even to bring the Empire into the equation."

Talig just stared at the shadow, a look of panic on his face.

"Mr. Talig, when this meeting is adjorned, I want you to go immediatly to Ryloth, and meet with Mr. Hintona. You can tell him he can have the position of Director of The Exchange."

Talig said nothing. Only nodded. A voice spoke up. It was the leader of the Liberty Sect. As she began to speak, Brutus noticed that a flaw stood out among her starlingly beautiful features. a long jagged scar ran down the left side of her face- it was revealed only as her golden hair fell away from that side of her face.

"What are we going to do about Director Kooror? We cannot let him divulge our secret. If Kooror tells the Empire we.."

Her voice trailed off. Tir Esias stood up.

"This problem is already taken care of."

At that moment Brutus realized that the large alien was gone. He looked around, and from his angle, knew that the only door into the room had not opened up. Slightly perplexed, Brutus put the thought on the back of his mind. The debate started back up again; but it ended quickly. The people who made up the Union's "Comittee" knew that problems such as this one would be handled quickly. The talk returned to upcoming operations. The Chairman's attention next came to the GLF.

"Director Nogoth."

All eyes in the conference room swerved toward Brutus as the Chairman adressed him. It was arguably a conversation between the two most powerful men in the organization, and Brutus had not been very activly involved in much of the conversation.

"I'm happy to see you're with us today. The INS would like us to believe your dead, and that the Galactic Liberation Front is no more."

Brutus smiled, and the the Directors all chuckled. The humor seemed to releive the tension still lingering from the handling of The Exchange liason.

"You know INS- they hire left over Coalition leaders to run storylines."

The room laughed again. Ever since their crushing defeat, littered with humour and laughable moments, the Galactic Coalition had become the standard butt of all jokes from Coruscant to the Outer Rim. As the laughter died down quickly, the chairman continued.

"We have all seen what the GLF can do" heads nodded around the table "But the past is the past. The Rebellion blew up two Death Stars, and look where it got them. What are you working on to ensure that your sucess continues."

It was a poignant question. The GLF's sucess had been higher than anyone could have predicted. The group had attracted more attention to their cause than ever expected, and gained a solidified base of money and followers. To keep that base however- and ensure that the money would keep flowing in- the GLF had to keep in the spotlight.

"We currently have several operations in the planning stages, though they haven't yet progressed farther than that yet. The reason for that is two-fold: we need to match our previous sucesses, and our targets have become more alert and prepared. To meet both, we have to spend a bit more time planning, as well as selecting targets that can be hit. Don't think we've fallen off our job; we are just being meticulous so that we do a high quality job."

Brutus smiled.

"Quality over quantity- I'd rather kill 3 generals than 500 grunts. Of course, killing the generals might actually help our opponents more than hurt them."

The former military types at the table smiled and nodded knowingly.

"Let me tell you one thing, a fact of life, if you will. The GLF is going to continue taking the fight to those whom opress people across the galaxy. And there is absolutley nothing anyone in the gakaxy can do about it."



The view of the Midas became better and better as Brutus's shuttle moved away from the gargantuan vessel; expanding from the hangar to slowly encompass the full underside of the tremendous wedge. Recently the GLF had been acquiring some Imperial Class Star Destroyers, and Brutus had been impressed with their intimidating size and fascade. The Midas made any ISD look like a freighter in comparision. Brutus could barely even imagine what he would think if he ever saw the Empire's flagship, the Ebony Vigiliance II , an Eclipse class Super Star Destroyer. He imagined himself staring out the viewport of a ship, at the huge vessel, and standing there speechless. Hopefully he would never have to see it.

But If I never see it... I won't have accomplished my mission.

The chances of the Empire shaping up simply because of bombings and terrort threats were less likley than the Galactic Coalition actual winning a war. Which meant that one day, some day in the future, he would have to face down the pride of the Imperial navy, the most powerful ship in the galaxy. He turned his head from the Midas at the thought- that would be both a great and horrific day.

His shuttle continued to angle away from the Super Star destroyer, making its way toward its hyperspace point. Brutus admitted that Estro Sabrino had quite an advantage over himself; Estro's home, his base of operations, could move at a whim, staying in deep space for tremendous streches of time. The Midas was large enough to support its own self sustaining facilities, plus had cargo space for years worth of consumables.

Not to mention the 500 plus weapons to keep noisy neighbors at bay.

The shuttle stopped, shifting slightly to make the first of several hyperjumps required to get to a major hyperlane. Brutus's base of operations, his headquarters, requried a layer of stealth to be kept safe. The base, from which he had plotted and implemented the first Upheaval attacks was large and very secure- but most likey would be discovered at some point- and Brutus would have to move to another location. His envy of Sabrino's SSD grew even more in his brain.

"Strap in Mr Nogoth- we're getting ready to make our first jump."

Brutus sat down into his comfortable chair, and put his restraints across his body. He preferred traveling in larger vessels, where the rigors of hyperspace barley effected the comfort and scope of their travel. On a shuttle, even a higher end model like the one he was traveling in, at least at the begginning and end of the jump, he would need to restraints to keep from being jogged and knocked around.

I wonder how much an SSD costs... and who would build one

The thought of keeping such a project a secret, a monetary cost tacked onto an already astronomical number made Brutus's head roll.

I wonder how Estro got the Midas anyway?

Something to ask him about sometime. As the space around the shuttle turned to streaks of light, and the stars became vibrant pinpricks, Brutus Nogoths mind drifted to thoughts of money, Super Star Destroyers, and the secrecy of things...

Tatooine
Approach to Anchorhead

The enclosed land speeder glided forward, its repulsors kicking up a think wave of and as it sped iover the dusty terrain. A pair of desert skiffs flew on either side of the speeder keeping an even pace on both sides. The skiffs were both packed with large brutish men and aliens, each holding some sort of weapon. Several appeared to be wearing a quasi-military uniform- actual Exchange Enforcers- but most were just hired guns and rouges of different natures. About thirty guards in all, fifteen to a skiff.

Incompetents.

Qive lowered the electrobinoculars. The placing of the two skiffs on either side of the landspeeder allowed an easy assualt from the front or the rear, which were the weakest points on the speeder. The speeders sides would likely by reinforced with armor plates or possibly even deflector shields (though unlikley)but their was only so much you could do to th front windshield and still give a driver a clear field of vision. The rear held its own target- the speeders engines. If he had been in charge of the defense, he would have used a lead and chase configuration instead- it might reduce mobility somewhat, but would provide a better coverage of the main targets weak spots. It was a lesson he would teach Director Kooror's security detail very soon.

Taking a look back through the electrobinoculars to get an estimate of range, he hefted the v3 rident missile launcher onto his armored shoulder. The armor had been hastily assembled by some personale on th Midas as he was about to leave, and wasn't fit correctly in every spot, but it would suffice. He could survive just as well without the armor, but there was no point in taking risks. Besides, someone might actually get lucky.

A small screen popped up displaying th launcher's sensor readings. The launcher had registered the distant vehicles rapidly approaching, which were mere specks on the horizion, but didn't register a good lock due to the flat trajectory and distance. Not deterred, Qive slid a catch down, switching to LOSL mode. Aiming straight ahead, then making minute adjustments he clicked the trigger. With a short kick, the missile lept from the end of the tube. Qive let the large launcher fall to his side, and picked up the electrobinoculars. He watched as the missile trail entered and exited his point of view, an optical illusion created by the zooming effect of the binoculars. Then all of a sudden the missile re-entered his field of vision. Qive frowned as he saw his aim had been slightly off. It must have only been a fraction of a degree, but multiplied over distance, had pushed his missile several meters to the right of the landspeeder; directly into the path of the skiff on the speeders right.

The impact was quite impressive. A fountain of flame exploded upwards, as the warhead hit the lower portion of the skiff. The skiffs driver had attempted a last second swerve which when combined with concussion and shock of the blast sent the vessel up higher into the air and then rolling over the path of the landspeeder. The speeder brake abrupted and spun away from the tangle mass of metal flying across it's path. The other skiff had turned toward the speeder, partially shielded from the scene by its location, and was suddenly broadsided by its flaming cousin. The second skiff was upset, dumping its passengers to the sands below.

Not bad for a blind shot.

A single missile had simultaneously brought down both skiffs. The speeder performed a large u-turn and came to rest near the tangle of metal tha was the first skiff. Qive saw that the other skiff was actually sitting on the desert floor, but appeared only damaged. The main problem was that it was flipped, and its repulsordrives were facing upward. He also saw the hired guns swarming about the capsized skiff and the speeder coming to a rest a few yards from them. Qive dropped the electrobinoculars.

He popped another missile into the Trident, then walked over toward his own transportation: a swoop sitting nearby. Lugging the large missile launcher, he jumped onto the floating bike, and kicked the ignition, rocketing himself forward. He thought about firing the Trident on the fly, but quickly ruled it out. Not because it wasn't possible, rather because he couldn;t be completly sure fo the result. If the missile was set to sensor mode, he was pretty sure the missile would go toward the large blip that the three vehicles in close proximity would provide. However, relying on a machine was never one hundred percent efective- for all he knew the missile he had justed loaded ha a dud warhead. No, he would just get a little closer, and make sure he had done the job right.

The swoop flew at high speeds, and soon enough, Qive stopped the racing bike and jumped off it. His targets were still of in the distance, but he could make them out reasonably well without the aide of the electrobinoculars. The merc and hired guns were milling around, a small group seemed to be discussing something- probably what the best course of action was. Qive once again lambasted their incompetence- it seemed they were making no attempt to reconnoiter who had attacked them. They would pay for that mistake in spades.

The poor fools.

Raising the Trident, he left the slide catch on laser line of sight fire. He liked it better anyway; he perferred relying on his own skills rather than those of a machine. He trusted himself more, plus th challenge of it excited him. Those of his race, when they chose to fight, (and this was a rare occasion to say the least) always did so for personal enjoyment, coupled with monetary gain. He would be considered a crazy back home, a lunatic, but only because of his violent nature. He was perfectly sound of mind.

The laser sight dissappeared to the naked eye due to the still great distance. He would be mounting a zoom lens or scope on th weapon when he got back from this mission. The extreme distances at which he was using the weapon tested his skills to the maximium; but he required effectivness, even at a small expense of personal pleasure. Maybe he would shoot from farther out to compensate. His hand slid into the trigger guard, his finger grabbing the trigger.

As his finger pulled the trigger, he felt a burning sensation and a jolt of pain in his arm. Reflexsivly his arm shot upward, send the ungided missile spiralling toward the twin suns of Tatooine. Cursing, Qive dropped the large launcher, and ducked, as another blazing set of blaster bolts shot at his position. Hitting the sand, he looked up and surveyed the scene.

A single mercenary toting a pair of oversized blaster pistols was standing on the edge of a small dune about 2o yards from his location- his light colored garb inocuous against the sand. Cursing his underestimation of his opponents (or the lucky initiative of one mercenary) Qive's eyes glanced furtivley at the streaking dot which was the Trident projectile, moving farther and farther away from the surface. In its unguided mode it would fly untill it ran out of propellant, a range of about 15 miles, then it would be brought back down toward the planets surface, and explode on impact. That didn't give him much time. Grabbing the Trident, he sprung suddenly to his feet and charged the merc.

With a cachopony of sound the merc opened fire, his deadly weapons spitting green beams that punched dark holes in Qive's armor and singed the flesh beneath. Seemingly unaffected, Qive kept running, and the merc, not used to his targets running through a hail of laserfire didn't have time to react before the metal tube of the Trident collided with his face. There was a terrific crunch, and the merc collapsed to the ground. Grabbing one of the blasters from the ground, Qive heard a whisling sound.

Oh sh..

With a leap he dove as the Trident missile dropped down only feet away from its orginal launching point. A plume of sand and rock flew up, revealing Qive's location like a smoke signal. As he dug himself out of the sand he looked back to find nothing left of what had once been his premeium racing swoop. The irony his swoop being blow up by Qive's own missile did little to release the fury he was feeling. Realizing it wouldn't take long for the merc to realize what had cuased the sudden plume of dust and sand, Qive reached to hi neck and to his utter surprise found the electrobinoculars were still attached to the strap he had been wearing them on.

"At least I still have something...."

He also had one more reload for the Trident, which was very fortunate. He would only have one shot. Taking a quick survey of the scene through the electrobinoculars, he saw that while a small group of mercs was starting to walk toward his direction, most were still trying to figure out how to flip the skiff. A good group was congregated around the landspeeder; it appeared they were trying to hook some sort of cable up to it. Qive lowered the binoculars and took aim, leveling the Trident on his shoulder.Hoping the first scout merc didn't have any buddies, he pulled the trigger, and watched as the missiles lept from the launcher.

A moment later a gratifying explosion was both seen and heard. After letting th initial flame die down, he leveled his binoculars at the scene and saw nothing but charred and twisted wreckage. Satified with his work, he turned and started trudging toward Anchorhead...

Undisclosed Location

"Carida, Honoghr, Aargau, N'Zoth, Genosis, Eriadu, Ison, Sathora, Courlag, Oogura, Muunilist, Isht, Nkllon, Garqi, Commenor, Orron III, Muscave, Iridonia, New Alderaan, Gorulag, Firrerre, Anoat, Sluis Van, and Tammar."

Twenty five worlds, twenty five sucesses.

"I must say, Hilter, that is quite impressive."

Brutuss's chief of operations allowed himself a smile. Brutus knew that to him it had all been a game, a galactic game of Dejarik, with governments and terrorist as the peices. No one outmanuevred Hilter Afdol at Dejarik.

"We have been very sucessful."

The undrstatement of the century. The GLF had hurt the Empire like the Galactic Coalition and Outer Rim Soveignty only dreamed about; helped bring about the demise of the Tholatin Republic; hurt the warmongering Anthos regime; and helped liberate people from their opressors with direct assistance to freedom fighters. All, with only one major set-back, the utter failure on Sullust. Devoid of that, things had gone better than anyone could have imagined. In the blink of an eye, the GLF had become a powerful power player int he galaxy, the sort whose actions turned heads on Coruscant, and Mon Calimari and Daemo. When your citizens expressed concearns about the GLF, you listened, or you faced domestic problems. If that wasn;t a definition o power, then Brutus didn't know what was.

"The first phase of Upheaval is an unrivaled success. I think the probability of pulling off 25 sucessful major terrorist attacks on the major powers in the galaxy are astronomically high. But we must push forward."

"Agreed."

Brutus reached into his desk, and removed a datapad.

"The Chairman has sent this along specifcally for you."

He stood up and handed the datapad to Hilter. The Agro Incorporated CEO peered down at the glowing text.

"It's from our Jutraal. The Chairman, has wonderful connections there."

Brutus didn't know if Hilter knew that the Union's leader had risen to power through the Jutraalian Syndicate, and was its head- even if others currently ran much of its daily operation. Hilters eyes were moving rapidly back and forth over the small screen.

"This dates back from Fe..."

Brutus butted in.

"Since Belgardi has obtained Bespin; it becomes actually viable. If those stats are even close to being true, then the power we could weild with such a design would be amazing."

Hilter looked at Brutus.

"Yes- it could change the entire face of warfare. Render everything currently in use obselete."

"I'm not quite sure about that assessment- its not invincible, simply ingenius. If it had been deployed before the downfall, the Jutraalian could have won the war- history would be completly different. Of course, we would still be fighting against an opressive regime- the Jutraalians were simply imitations of the real Empire."

What Brutus didn't know was that had the Jutraalian Empire survived, the Union itself would not exsit, because tis founder we still be in the employ of Chaddwick Fearsons.

"However, we can't soley concentrate on this facet; it's merely a long term objective. Along with our others."

Hilter nodded knowingly- he was currently planning operations for various long term schemes. The Galactic Libration Front need every bit of advantage it could muster, to fight against the forces of opression in the galaxy.

"And Hilter, I want another round of attacks in the works. Standard targets. We need to remind Imperial New Service friends what happens when they falsibly lable our organization as dead; and decry our actions as the gasp of splinter cells."

Hilter nodded. Brutus knew that the knext time the too men spoke, a detailed set of plans would be ready for dissemination to feild agents, along with numerous contingencies in case of failures or unexpected occurances. Hilter's logistical and tactical plannign skills were amazing- but how he managed to run a large corporation and do the GLF's brainwork was something Brutus admired. He never seemed stress or overworked, thiough Brutus knew he was a workahaulic who demanded nothing less than perfection from himself.

If more men like Hilter were in power, then perhaps our galaxy wouldn;t be in such need of our crusaude.

Hilter slpped out of Brutus's office, leaving him alone. Reminicsing, Brutus reached behind him, and opened the door to his refrigerator unit, pulling out a bottle of brandy. The cool, moist bottle cradled in his arms, Brutus thought back on the time leading up to the birth of the GLF, and his previous life. The thoughts dampened his mood, and he quickly dismissed them for what had been a more interesting puzzle for his mind- acquiring a large mobile headquarters for the GLF. He had already determined that his current location was too open and likley to be discovered in time, and had been inspired by the Chairman's personal Super Star Destroyer. Unfortunatly, after doing a little checking, he reasoned an SSD was a bit out of his price and availability range (and he still wondered how Sabrino had gotten his). He did however have a few ideas, which he was actively considering. Those thoughts swirling in his mind, he sipped his brandy and looked to the future.

-Taken from the Propaganda Forum

Even as this report is being relayed, thousands of those in the employ of the so-called Galactic Liberation Front are being taken into custody. Already petitions from many of the Empire's citizens are clamoring for quick executions as the stench that was GLF is quickly being washed away.



Deep Space
Perlemian Trade Route

Brutus Nogoth sat, his mind churning, a torrent of thought. Complex and arcane mathematical forumlas very shooting through his mind. Many of the calculations were never done by normal sentients, with perhaps the exception of a few mathematically inclined aliens. Droids, computers- they eliminated the need for much of what he was calculating. The art of higher math was not dead... math consistency ensured it endured forever.... however human minds rarley devlved into the complex matricies and high end probability with which Brutus was dealing; it wasn't necessary. These forumlas had been proven true centuries, even millenia ago, they were as exciting as watching droids rust. Brutus knew that what he was doing was a redundancy- he could have pulled up a datapad and found the answer he was looking for. He chose to do the calculations in his head for one reason: he enjoyed it.

Brutus was calculating the chances that the three ships would be discovered- found out by a random Imperial patrol, or an security force- before their task was complete. Such a computation was nearly impossible- the sheer number of Imperial vessels, and the random variables involved in such an equation would make garnering an answer nearly impossible to even a high end supercomputer. That fact did not deter Brutus, it just hightened his skills, enhanced his concentration. The world dropped away to a swirling vortex of numbers and letters his mind totally consumed with mathematical equations. Amazingly, despite his concentration on the task at hand, Brutus often had epifanies and bursts of inspiration while solving or trying to solve complex math problems. Problems that lay in his mind unsolved seemed clearer after such sessions- difficult situations seemed less complex. Why such a taxing mental helped Brutus concentrate on other tasks was beyond his own undertstanding. The fact that it occured was something he just noted, and benefited from.

Brutus' mind was in high-gear, trying to figure out the probability of his three ships being discovered by a random Imperial patrol. The calculations were actually nigh impossible because of the numerous variables involved. The size and regularity of the Imperial navy were two variables that would have taxed the capacity of an accounting droid, let alone Bruts's mind. The uncertainty principle made the calculation a labored and complicated set of conclusions, that were vauge approximations at best. As much as he hated to admit it, Brutus would not be able to reassure himself that statistically this plan was safe.

What would I do without Hilter?

Brutus' trust of the agriculturle moghul had first been kindled while playing a match of Dejarik, the man's favorite pasttime. Brutus, young and confident, felt nigh intimidated by the brash man who sat across from him; they were two egos who seemed unafraid of each other. The match whad taken place on Garqi, as part of one of Hilter's publicity stunts. He had set forth a challenge to the best and the brightest across the galaxy's learning institutions- he would take them on blindly, one after the other- and win. Brutus had never played dejarik competitvily, but stunned at the confidence of the champion memorized, move by move a winning sequence. He used the same technique again and again against the Dejarik players in the Garqi Agricultutal University, knowing that he could use the strategy against Hilter who was facing all his challengers blindly. Brutus had played his strategy to a tee, and Hilter had followed suit just as Brutus expected. Every move Hilter was making was the one which statisticlly the best choice- Brutus had calculted that himself. Other moves would have been favorable, but the absolutley best move was what would be picked, and Brutus expected Hilter to fall into his trap. At the crucial juncture- the place where Brutus's strategy hinged- Hilter stunned Nogoth by making the absolute, most blatantly obvious mistake he could have possibly done. Brutus sat in shock, and felt his mind floating out of the room. His next move exploited the blunder, and in the next half of the match Hilter systematicaly smashed him.

After the match, Brutus shook hands with Hilter, a dead look of awe easily discernable in his eyes. Hilter looked at his challenger and said one sentence.

"It's not about math Mr. Nogoth, or forumlas; its about people."

Brutus and Hilter had worked with that discussion many times later- because as Brutus had outgrown his younger self, he had slowly began to understand what Hilter had said, and understand that while Hilter Afdol might have meant it about Dejarik, Brutus knew it was true in life. He still looked for mathematical basis for things, for facts and figures and statistics, but they were not the sole truth. At a young age Brutus Nogoth would have told you that no force could hope to fight against the mass of the Galactic Empire: their sheer numbers made it an impossibilty. And though he often found himself thinking like his younger self, his subconcious mind knew that was not true, and bolstered by his sucesses and by the words which Hilter had uttered, though most likley didn't remember, he perservered.

Giving up on his calculations, Brutus leaned back, allowing both mind and body to relax. He was comfortable enough, the spacious interior of the Imperial Star Destroyer Freedom Fighter well furnished and accomadated. The largest of the three ships, the Freedom Fighter was joined by an Interdictor Cruiser and a Warrior class Gunship, each cruising slowly in the void. The three ships were waiting, krayt dragons awaiting an unlucky victim to walk across their lair. Hopefully the victim would be an errant traveler, easy prey, and not a pack of deadly tusken raiders. Brutus couldn't be sure which it would be- but he was alright with that fact.

We'll just have to wait and see.

The ship jolted. It's patrons felt the unnatural movement, the sudden deceleration. Heads turned, eyes opened, mummuring began. The esoteric swirling blue of hyperspace faded to a canvas of black speckled with stars. A droid voice was coming over the intercomm, alerting the passengers to remain calm, that matinence personale were already being dispatched to deal with the hyperdrive malfunction, and that the trip's ETA would not be severly effected. However, to anyone with a little bit of military knowledge, and considering who the passengers of the the vessel were, most would have such knowledge, it was obvious that the reason the ship had exited hyperspace was not a simple malfunction; it was due to the looming Interdictor Cruiser which was visible off the port bow.

Imperial Star Destroyer Freedom Fighter
Brutus's Personal Quarters.

Chirp! Chirp!

Brutus snatched up the com-link, and pressed receive.

"Mr Nogoth. A vessel has exited hyperspace."

Brutus couldn't tell from the voice whether or not this was a good or bad thing.

"What sort of vessel?"

"Transponder code says its the Serif, a registered passenger liner. Flight plans details a route to Corulag; passenger list is made up entirely of civillians. It appears that the ship is ferrying the families of Imperial soldiers currently enrolled at the academy."

Brutus searched his mind for the date and time, a concept which could be so distorted by constant moving between worlds. Then stretched to match that date to a Corulag time. He had a vauge idea... then it clicked.

"Corulag's academy is having a graduation for one of its classess very soon. They are probably coming in to witness there proud little sons and daughters give up their identity and become stormtroopers."

Brutus knew that wasnt true- if family was being invited it was probably a officer's graduation, or elite military unit- but invoking the white clad shock soldiers just made a more powerful image.

"Shall we engage?"

"Yes. Disable them, and bring there ship aboard the Freedom Fighter. I'm sure that this part of space is lovley, but we don't want to be hanging around for any Imperial patrols."

"Of course."

The comm link clicked, and the link was cut. Brutus threw the com-link over near his bed, and walked through a small entryway. There was an empty room, with a holo-camera set up facing a wall. Brutus walked over to the camera, fiddled with its controls for a few minutes, then stepped back. He took a few deep breaths, and then walked in front of the camera, his back to the wall. When the red light came on he started talking.

Deep Space

The Serif didn't even bother sending out the standard inquires about what the Interdictor was doing in the hyperlane, or start spouting off about its Imperial authority to travel the spacelanes. Outnumbered, impossibly outgunned, and lacking the speed to make a serious attempt to run, the Serif's captain sent out a compulsory distress call, which depending upon the effect of the Interdictor's and ISD's jamming may or may not have been heard. Even if the transmission got through, no help would be able to arrive before the hapless craft was gobbled up by the Freedom Fighter and whisked away via hyperspace to anywhere in the galaxy.

Much to the chargin of his Imperial crew, the captain decided it would be best to cooperate with the enemy, instead of endangering his ship in a futile attempt to fight or run. He powered down the shields and came to a full stop. Such a decision wouldn't have mattered only a minute or so later, as the Freedom Fighter quickly beared down on the transport, its 60 ion cannons able to just as quickly power down the Serif as the captain was.

With another jolt, the Serif was caught in th Freedom Fighter's tractor beam, and hauled into the ISD's large hangar. Their mission complete, the three GLF ships came together, waited for the interdictor to power down its gravity well, then jumped to lightspeed.

Deep Space
ISD Freedom Fighter

"Course laid in Mr. Nogoth."

"Lowering shield. Launch in five... four... three... two... one..."

Brutus turned toward the Star Destroyer's large viewport, but the location of the vessels hangar bay was such that he couldn't see the Serif depart the Freedom Fighter under its own power. The vessel's occupants, the family members of Imperial graduates of the academy on Courlag, were onboard accompanied by GLF forces, who were flying the vessel. The Serif's crew had been accommodating, understanding that cooperation would provide them protection, and that resistance was more than likely to get themselves killed. Besides, they had been informed that they were to be traded and had no reason to endanger that agreement.

"Nevas Pas is preparing to lock on tractor beams."

And with a slight turn of his head, Brutus say the dimpled shape of the Immobilizer 418 Interdictor Cruiser coming into view, with the Serif plodding along toward it. The Nevas Pas's four gravity wells had originally ripped the Imperial transport from hyperspace, and now the very same ship would be transporting and escorting it to the designated meeting point. The Warrior class gunship Rouge Mourir , the smaller cylindrical vessel that seemed like a tugboat when viewed from the bridge of an ISD, was also moving into position as an escort.

The vessels were situated only a few short jumps from Antar 4, homeworld of the Gotals, which had been designated as the neutral sight for the GLF Imperial trade. The Gotals were currently unaffiliated with any major galactic power, though they had been previous members of both the New Republic and Diversity Alliance, and therefore had little chance of any Imperial leanings. Of course, there distance from the main body of the Empire was also a deciding factor in the planet's selection.

"Nevas pas requesting permission to jump to lightspeed."

Brutus nodded his acquiescence, wondering why such formality was necessary. Brutus was a schemer, a planner, and a leader- he was not a tactician. His appearance on the bridge was more for his own purposes than in any command role. Still, the captain of the Freedom Fighter seemed honored by his presence, and checked almost every order with Brutus before implicating it. Such respect was flattering; but Brutus was not qualified to command an ISD anymore than the captain was qualified to control a vast network of terrorists, freedom fighters and insurgents across the galaxy. Unlike some who attained his level of power, he knew that some people were better at some things than he was. Just because he was the leader of the GLF didn't make him the best choice for Admiral.

That's part of the problem with governments- people think they're the best at everything, and screw up. Then, the results trickle down onto the people. And sometimes, people don't even screw up- the do things on purpose that hurt the people.

The Imperial vessel, and it's two GLF escorts jumped to hyperspace, but Brutus barely paid any attention. He wasn't in his element on the bridge; he enjoyed the beauty of the galaxy, and reveled the mathematical precision that kept the ship he was on in working order, but he wasn't a soldier. He knew if forced into a combat position, he would manage well enough, but he wasn't a natural fighter in that respect- he was an ideological leader, rather than a battlefield sergeant. He respected and admired those who were tactical- Hilter Afdol being the perfect example of such a man- but did not envy them. He had his own place.

He stayed on the bridge for a few minutes longer to satisfy the Captain, who continued to run orders by him for approval. However, once the ship maneuvered into position to jump to lightspeed, he retired back to his quarters, where he could think about his next contributions to the GLF's cause.



The galactic holonet was something of a technological marvel, that although taken for granted was truly amazing. The fact that the Freedom Fighter could receive live transmissions from it in deep space with no major distortions served as a tribute to its designers.

Brutus Nogoth had been able to watch the Imperial New Service's interview with Simon Kaine and Grand Moff Zell live (well as live as any INS propaganda piece ever was), and tape it for better viewing. He had to admit how well done the piece was. In typical INS style, the piece glazed over any hints of inconsistency with past events, Imperial failures, and provided a mixture of blatant lies, fiery rhetoric and substance that appealed to the average citizen. Brutus had no problem dissecting the tape for what it was, but he knew that a good majority of those who saw it would be inclined to accept it as writ law, unadulterated truth.

How such poor judgment could be made was easily understandable. The INS, and the Imperial leaders had no qualms about deception of their own citizens. Lying was second nature, and with that sort of ability, the Imperial’s made even the most outrageous claims seem like truth. Plus, the manner in which the propaganda was conveyed smoothed over any problems that lay in previous claims.

Before this video, the INS’s primary claim about the GLF was that Brutus was dead, and the GLF had splintered into tiny insignificant factions. They decried several authentic videos that Brutus as made, claiming them to be forgeries and done by imposters. Then, in a sudden inexplicable reversal (caused by Brutus’s own actions) they admitted that he was alive. Such a discrepancy by the Empire’s intelligence services could have been seen as a major failure in the war with the GLF, if seen in the proper light. But in the video release, the fact was barley mentioned, and quickly shunted off to the side, as if being wrong didn’t surprise the Imperial leaders at all. Brutus knew that the reason they didn’t seem surprised is because they weren’t surprised. They had known all along Brutus wasn’t gone- but had allowed that myth to be propagated by the INS, and encouraged it with official support.

Then Kaine came out and in front of the entire galaxy said “ We never claimed to be benevolent ” which was a full confession to the malevolence, the oppressiveness of the Imperial government from one of its most powerful leaders! Yet the statement was quickly covered by more rhetoric, and would be barely remembered by many citizens.

Of course, one reason one would remember these flaws was due to Grand Moff Zell’s pointless, insult-laden tirades. As entertaining as they would be to the average citizen, Zell never really said anything of much credence, but his crude language and fiery delivery was sure to elicit approval from the masses.

Flipping on the tape of the release, Brutus could only shake his head, as he watched the two Imperial leaders sit with straight faces and lie to their citizens. Then, of course, there was the ending, a mishmash of clips from former video releases, and an odd clip Brutus had never seen before. Anyone who had seen his earlier videos would realize that the Empire had simply take parts of different videos, spliced them together and run both Brutus’s and others voices over the footage. Such work would have been convincing, had the same obviously false speech about Dantooine had not be repeated.

Besides- Kaine himself had said that the trade was going to occur with prisoners, not for military assets! That blatant inconsistency was sure to dawn on some people, people who would see past the smoke and mirrors to the rotten truth beneath it. That thought was encouraging enough to Brutus. Somewhere, someone would be realizing that perhaps that “madman” might just be right about the Empire and other governments like it.

Besides, to GLF supporters, the video release would be excellent material to use in training and ideological teachings- proof of the Empire’s infidelity. To Brutus himself, the video was just another reason to continue his struggle for liberty in the galaxy. Another reason to redouble his efforts and fight the good fight.

So as the Freedom Fighter was sailing calmly through hyperspace, Brutus was thinking about ways to keep that fight going, and about the plans already in motion, that were soon to be carried out.

The Jutraalian Empire...
This along with the Newly renamed Empire's anouncement of freeing up supplies of Tibanna gas reserves, from both Bespin and Taloraan, is believed to be a diplomatic olive-branch to the Galactic community. Unfortunately, for the thousands of people who have already lost their lives in this conflict, it seems this may well be simply a matter of, too little too late.

from VNN

The Past
Shortly after The Empire Strikes Back- Cutting the Strand

Togoria

"They've removed the black-list."

The words reverberated off the crisp, thick walls of the laboratory, leaving behind a faint, barley audible echo of noise. The echo continued unabaited for some time, and died, leaving the room in silence. The man who had spoken those words stood like a statue, staring at his friend/partner. Second wore on, and the echo became a distant memory, yet there was no response.
Impatientce began to show on the man's face, but he held his tongue, waiting for a response.

None came.

"Gorir?"

The other figure seemed to come to life at the sound of his name. He lips moved, inaudibly. His head dipped, and he seemed to be muttering to himself, but no words were said, no sounds were made.

"Gorir? Talk to me."

The man looked up, his expression was one of anguish and confusion. It was if he had been physically woundedby an invisible blade.

"But, how? The transmissons are being jamned."

"The resistance has been allowed to receive certain transmissions, as well as punching through the jamning on occassion. They've verified it with Jutraal."

"But that means"

"It means that we've lost. This round anyway- and you were right. Jilaaek did it."

The other man seemed to calm down, as he heard the reassuring words, the compliments.

"I told the Emperor, that building a Death Star was foolish. Trying to disguise was perhaps the most useless, ineffectual waste of resources I have ever seen. I mean how can..."

"The Emperor was nearly assassinated."

Gorir shut up quickly.

"The Empire is disarry- and the Empire is picking us apart. And Col. Kolson told me that the resistance is collapsing."

The facts were washing over Gorir Allterson too quickly. The Jutraalian Empire, his one true devotion in life, was falling apart. The Emperor whom he supported had nearly died. The precious resource that needed to be stockpiled to complete his secret project was being released to the galaxy as a whole, siphoning off critical portions. Most importantly, and most devestatingly however, was that the war his project was being desined to win was already being fought.

And his side was losing.

That last thought renknewed the pain which had subsided at the mention of Jilaaek station. That damn Death Star, the cataylist which had set off the war. Which had ruined the Jutraalian Empire, and was destroying his life's work. He didn't know what to do.

The other man watched as the confusion, and anger, and anguish returned to Gorir's face. Although his exterior remained blank, inside he was disgusted. Gorir may have been a genius, the most brilliant weapon designer the Empire had, but he was such a weakling. Both pyhsically and emotionally. Weak. Granted, the project would never have progressed as far as it had without him, but that thought was of little consequence now. Decisive, Strong action had to be taken.

He had talked with Col. Kolson, the liason from the resistance to the secret underground facility. The news was bleak. The space forces hadn't even fired a shot in defense of the planet, and though the large defensive forces had fough valiantly, they're cause was hopless. Fearsons had miscalculated. Jilaaek had caused a war premature , and against too many foes. Jutraal would need time to regroup, re-strategize.

Time to put this lab's design into action.

Unbeknownst to Gorir, his prescence was no longer neccessary for the completion of this project (hopefully anyway). Even if it was, the DNA samples would be able to bring him back for long enough to complete the project. Still, only one man would be leaving this lab. It's contents were too important to leave it standing with the Galactic Empire so close to total subjugation of the world. And Gorir was too unreliable to be brought along, at least in his current state.

Gorir had fallen to his knees, and began to weep. The man shook his head. It only confirmed his thoughts about him.

"I'm sorry Gorir."

The brilliant scientist didn't even look up as the man pulled out a military grade blaster pistol and blew a whole in the side of his head.

With that bussiness done, the man took the time to activate the time delayed measures that would ensure the total destruction of the secret facility. Total atomization. The lab's self destruct contained enough baradium to blow a Star Destroyer in two. Pressing the final sequence, he took the turbolift to the secret exit, and left the lab for the final time.



The earth shuddered beneath his speeder bike even several kilometers away, as the tremendous explosion resembled a minor earthquake. It had been a bit excessive, but the job had been done right. All that remained was linking up with Col. Kolson, hoping the Imperial blockade, and heading far, far away from any Imperial Star Destroyers and TIE fighters. The Galactic Empire had won this round, along with its allies and cronies, but as long as the newly renamed Jutraalians survived, then there was hope. The project would turn the tides, and make the Empire wish it was fighting Jilaaek station instead.

I'd love to see the looks on their faces, when it become apparent to them that everything they've accomplsihed comes to naught. When they discover that Jilaaek wasn't the only 'invincible' weapon we could come up with.

He closed his eyes, imagining the sight for himself, the wind whipping across his body providing a sensory explosion. He saw his creation blasting Imperial fleets apart, unscathed itself. The figurative iron fist of the Galactic Empire melted under a super-hot barrage of turbolaser fire, and he threw his hand up in triumph.

The move sent his speeder careening off to one side. He opened his eyes and reached frantically for the handle bar, but missed.

Oh frelll....

The look on his face when he slammed at full speed into the side of a war torn building, was priceless.

[FONT=Arial]Brutus-

I apologize for my abscence, but unforseen events have kept my from being in your personal prescence. I would like to inform you that I have coordinated the next operation, and all the cells are in place. I took the liberty of activating them myself, though I have enclosed the codes to belay that order. I hope to see you in person soon, but I myself am not sure when I will be able to leave.

As for our other endeavor, I suggest that you concetrate efforts on either Despayre or Jutraal itself, because what I have heard about Fearson's leads me to believe he would not allow such valuable to be far from his own prying eyes.

I wish you well.

For freedom and liberty.

-H. A.[/FONT]

Brutus Nogoth dropped the datacard to his desk, deep in the bowels of the GLF's headquarters. The short message had taken over an hour to decrpyt, and travelled through so many surrogate relays that Brutus' communication staff had no clue what quadrant of the galaxy the message had orginated from. Despite the security, Hilter had declined to inform even Brutus where he was transmitting from. However, although it wasn't stated, Brutus had a good idea where the message was coming from. The level of encrpytion and security suggested high tech equipment, and the fact that Hilter was not revealing his location meant he was purposly withholding it.

Something had happened on Garqi.

However, despite the fact that Hilter was under some form of diress, he had still managed to put in motion the next operation he and Brutus had had in planning for weeks. Brutus had insisted upon another large scale show of force to remind the galaxy that the GLF was a force to be reckoned with, and to boost morale among the GLF rank and file- to prove to them that Upheaval was a work in progress that actually had visible results.

Less encouraging was the note about Fearsons, which meant that Brutus's primary planner had gleened little from the information the Jutraalian Syndicate had passed to Brutus. The datapad itself held enticing contents, with the supposed statistics for deadly Jutraalian project, designed to turn the tide against the Galactic Empire. The card however, was badly lacking in hard schematics, or a location where such information could be looked up. However, the thought of what might be would be enough for Brutus to dedicate his time and effort and look into the matter. Because if the datacard's contents were valid, then the Empire was lucky to have struck at the time they did.

Brutus pressed a button, activating his com-link.

"Get me Tir Essias. I have something I need taken care of immediatly."

Brutus flipped off the link, and looked at his chronometer. Sometime during the night there must have been a power surge, because the timepiece was blinking- its numerals reset to zero waiting to be set. Brutus smiled at the irony, and flipped on the holonet news.

The Past

Hilter Afdol elbows rested on the round holo-projector, his eyes glancing and flitting across the large image that was the galaxy. The slight hum of the generator was the beat to which his mind raced. He had slipped into the zone, and was unconscious to the world outside of the projection. He had been staring at the projection for almost half an hour now, leaning and watching, his eyes moving at an insane pace while the rest of his body was still. A doctor might have though him fast asleep, his eyes open betraying the movements of REM sleep- but Hilter was wide awake. Then with a start he stood up.

And at a furious pace he began entering information into a datapad....

Fondor

The call had come sooner than he had expected.

It had also been rather blunt. A contact had come to his home, waited at his door for him to arrive home.

Waited.

Not let in. Not entertained or shooed away by anyone, waited.

The man had handed him a datapad, and left; speaking only a few words of encouragement. He had not heard most of what was said, but one phrase did make it into his working mind.

"This is your revenge."

Kuel Riller should never have had to have revenge. His job as a shipyard worker had provided well for his family- and the Empire had kept them safe. Safe from the enemies who wished to harm them.

But not from themselves.

His son, Kuel Junior, had decided to follow in his father's footsteps, and become a shipyard worker. But he had not been satisfied with the slow and steady progression up the pay-scale, toward more satisfying work. He had joined, much to his father's dismay, a new laborer's union. The group tried to bargain to meet its demands, but failed.

They staged a large protest, without a permit, to try and sway the government. The planetary governor responded with AT-ST's and stormtroopers. Kuel Jr. was arrested as a radical leader- and his mother, who had rushed to the protest to try and get her son out of a dangerous situation had been killed by an errant blaster bolt. Kuel Jr. was shipped to an unknown prison planet that dealt with dissidents for conspiracy against the New Order. Kuel was told by his friend, a liaison to the planetary government, that COMPNOR had taken the young man as a serious threat and he had been given a "no-po" status.

No parole.

A young life wasted, doomed to become either a laborer or a guiena pig for some project "for the betterment" of the New Order.

Kuel had been depressed, but that had started to effect his work. He nearly got himself killed thinking about his son's plight, and not paying attention- an automated welding droid had nearly severed his Z-G suit. At that moment he renounced sadness, and took up a new emotion- vengeance.

He looked at the datapad, and read what he was going to do.

The next day, Kuel reported for work on a Reign Class Star Destroyer, which was nearing completion in his yard. He didn't have the zero-g suit; his work today was on his own personal specialty- hyperdrive engines.

The huge vessel was nearing completion, and was going to be tested today for the first time with a full compliment. That run through would require a test of the giant hyperdrive engines.

He worked the final shift, performing an overhaul of the vessels hyperdrive systems. Very discreetly, he disabled security and cooling systems in the primary hyperdrives, setting the vessel up for a disastrous maiden trip.

Then he logged out and filed his status report- the ship was all set for testing, its hyperdrive would function as intended.

Several hours later, when the RSD attempted to jump to lightspeed, it exploded in a fireball that Kuel could see from his planeside home.

Esseles

Esseles was the perfect world to recruit a terrorist. A planet whose glory days were in the past, yet rife with a populace of intelligent, hard-working and somewhat desperate men and women, Esseles was the type of place where the almighty credit could buy just about anything.

For the GLF, the almighty credit would buy the almighty revenge, death.

Landon Eckels was the son of a former chemical engineer who had admired his cunning father and his interesting job. Landon however had watched his father wither away after the high-tech firm he worked for laid him off, and he struggled to make ends meet as a freelance specialist and analyst. His father had set up a private laboratory in the families basement, and tried to ply his trade in a market with withering job opportunities yet a flush of highly qualified, dedicated workers.

In his spare time, Landon had worked with his father, slowly learning and being taught by example and trial and error. Landon's father worked very hard but was beaten upon by fate, as job after job fell through, not because of his own failure but by a sudden bankruptcy or round of firings. Landon's father had died several years ago, prematurely aged, his spirit broken. He had kept his family afloat at a terrible price to his own health, and an exhausted body had succumbed to a local virus that was fended off by those more vibrant and strong.

His legacy was Landon, who had become quite a skilled chemist. But Landon was plagued by the same problems his father had…. A brilliant man on a planet where the talent pool was high and the job pool low. Landon had held a multitude of good jobs, only to see them all plucked from under his nose- stolen by other deserving souls or downsized and eliminated. Landon’s life was following the footsteps of his fathers. Landon had seen his father waste away, working non-stop to make ends meet, doing work that deserved much greater reward. And so he made a decision that would make his life both easier yet so much more complicated.

He went to work for the GLF.

Secretly of course, on the sly. The GLF provided him with a hefty stipend, which he used to support himself in between jobs, as he strived for a stable position. And in return, when asked he used his skills to cook up something rather unconventional- high potency, chemical based bombs.

So when the call came in, Landon knew what to do. He was given a few specific instructions: size of the bombs, number etc. Then he would wait, until a GLF operative would come to his home and pick them up. Easy, simple and almost risk free.

Which would have made it the perfect job, if not for the guilt he felt at night when he heard the report of 4 massive explosions at a blaster rifle factory that killed hundreds…

Arkania

Guard Duty.

The most dull and boring job in the Imperial military, especially in a “docile” world like Arkania. DS-1857 had the worst shift of all, lone night watch at this barracks outside the city of Kuril. Nothing had ever happened on his night watch, ever. He’d been stationed at that garrison since its construction, and not once seen even a single four-fingered freak that called this planet home approach the barracks. He’d dozed off several times on the job before, will no ill effects. He had tried unsuccessfully to return to that state of rest several times this night, but for some reason had failed to do so.

A bolt of energy flying past his head was enough to erase any thoughts of sleep from his mind.

Peering out to the edges of the garrision, DS-1857’s light enhancement devices in his helmet allowed him to see rather clearly large humanoid figures, weiding large, deadly looking blaster carbines, firing steadily at the garrision.

Opening fire quickly, DS-1857 was stunned to see that the figures appeared to be totally unaffected by the blaster fire, though scorch marks and burns appeared in their unprotected flesh. The huge cyborgs charged the edge of the base, and the shrill of mortar rounds could be heard in the background as they approached, though DS-1857 didn’t have time to turn and look for explosions.

One cyborg charged him, running through a hail of fire from his E-11 rifle, firing widly. A shot grazed DS-1857, but he quickly sidestepped and unleashed his grappling hook, ripping the figures carbine from his hands. The huge figure ducked to a roll ,and dove behind a small building, showing surprising thoughtfulness and quick reaction time after losing his weapon. DS-1857 lobbed a thermal detonator over the small building, kneeled down to brace for the explosion.

The shockwave that came in the resulting explosion was much greater than DS-1857 had ever seen in training. Much greater than any thermal detonator he had ever thrown. His helmet’s heat sensor showed a massive signature behind him, and he turned to face a roaring blaze in the garrison’s main building.

And when he turned back…… the large figures had faded away from the base.

Rodia

From Impending Conflicts and Righteous Allegiances

"What is it?" The Grand Protector asked.

"Just a bad feeling about this." Harad said.

"About what?"

"This whole war. I have a feeling we are the next targets." Harad said, "And it angers me High Command doesn't see it."

"Rodia is my world, Admiral." The Grand Protector said, "And it belongs to the Rodian people, not the Coalition. If our planet is attacked, the Rodian people will do what they must to defend our world."

"But it is the Coalition that will undoubtedly give the enemy cause to attack..." Harad said, leaving the thought unfinished.

"Then perhaps it is almost time for the Coalition to distance themselves from Rodia?" The Grand Protector said.

Rodia was a world ceded to the Galactic Empire as a result of the Pax Imperium treaty, which ended the most recent galactic conflict (a much maligned endeavor by the Galactic Coalition and Outer Rim Sovereignty becoming know in history books as the “Correllian Conflict.). The sudden end to the conflict had actually prevented Rodia from falling under the dominion of the Hapans, who had launched an offensive on the world shortly before the defeat of the GC. And although the treaty had given the Imperials true control over the world, in reality it had hardly been the Coalitions to give away.

The GC had failed to provide resources to defend Rodia from what was considered by the Rodians a growing threat. In fact, many analysts’ who examined the treaty considered the GC relinquishing control of the world on of its better moves- it had been a high likelihood that Rodia would have seceded on its own because of the GC’s failure of commitment.

Rodia’s situation, being moved around like a pawn on the negotiating table of the major powers was the poster child for Brutus Nogoth’s Galactic Liberation Front. In his galaxy, the Rodians would be a free, independent people, running their own planetary government, outside of the influences of the corrupt superpowers acquired and discarded worlds and species like playthings.

The Rodian wilderness was also the perfect place for an insurgency to hide and grow. And so slowly, but surely, after making contact with clan leaders and the planets former Grand Protector, the GLF had been siphoning in weapons and explosives, to be hidden away in the dense foliage of the planets remote areas. Adept fighters, and well versed in the intricacies of their own terrain, the GLF backed Rodian insurgents launched a coordinated uprising at nightfall, livening up a darkened sky with explosions and blaster bolts.

Selonia
The Imperial action during Operation: Iron Will was another prototypical case in which the Empire wronged an entire people, an entire species. The wanton, unprovoked assault and subsequent dispersion of the entire populace from its homeworld was the sort of egregious action which spawned the GLF in the first place.
It also was the type of action which caused anger, resentment, and a lust for vengeance to build up in the heart and mind of those who were wronged.

The GLF hoped to capture that hatred, and empower the Selonians to right that injustice.

A large majority of the galaxies Selonian population had been moved into Imperial labor camps, and so Selonia was not a world where a major uprising was a viable option. However, the fact that Selonias entire population were non-civilian, made the planet an enticing target for the GLF.

Rounding up enough Selonians to perform the task at hand proved to be one of the more difficult tasks in the GLF logistical plan. Finding among those few Selonians a will to fight was much easier done. The rumors of the overwhelming force used against the planet in the heavy-handed assault angered Selonian’s almost as much as being deported from their own world.

Training was provided on various GLF safe worlds, including locations at Ord Biniir, and Umgul. The Selonian’s were taught to use sophisticated explosives, and handle high tech weapons comparable to those the Empire could use. They were trained in guerilla tactics, and how to fight against numerically superior forces.

After training, the GLF provided explosives and weapons to the Selonians, and then smuggled them onto the planet in a variety of ways- crash landing pods in the planets huge oceans, aboard resource shipments to the Imperial bases on the world, and in small personal ships. Hiding in deep tunnels or at sea, the Imperial’s had little idea that any Selonian’s had returned to the world until a tunnel filled with stormtroopers collapsed and explosive residue was found near the site of the collapse.

Olabria

“Preparing to exit hyperspace.”

The streaks of white light characteristic of hyperspace entry or revision popped up around the edges of the Aegis class Star Cruiser Mk II Libre [i]. The world of Oblabria was far off in the distance… the [i]Libre was out near one of the planets rocky moons.

Sensor were showing multiple signatures, Imperial defensive vessels protecting the planet itself. The Libre [i] totally disregarded those signals. With a blaze of ion energy, the Aegis zoomed toward the closest of Olabria’s moons, where the rich phrik mines were situated.

“Full power to turbolasers- engage.”

With a sudden explosion of energy, the Aegis unloaded huge bolts of deadly energy at the surface of the moon, targeting an area pocket-marked with the characteristic piles and shafts of mines, plastering and incinerating the entire area.

“Mission completed.”

“Prepare to jump to lightspeed.”

“Locking in coordinates.”

And with another flash, the [i]Libre was gone.



Nubia

Lupercus Draksword’s control of Nubia was absolute.

His mandate over the people of the world was however, in the opinion of the GLF, non-existent.

The planet was taken in military conflict, not diplomatic negotiations. The Nubians had fought hard, if rather futilely against superior Imperial forces. Another Imperial tragedy, another Imperial exercise in violent, unprovoked aggression.

GLF instigators hoped to incite the populace to violence, and use the civil disorder to complicate life for the Empire. Similar to previous uprisings on Diamal, and elsewhere, aliens hosted huge political rallies, and riled up a huge crowd of lightly or moderately armed militias. On Nubia, the rally was to be held on the site of the Nubian surrender, an airstrip outside of one of the planets major cities.

The protest was supposed to be peaceful, but GLF operatives were handing out small blaster pistols among the crowd, in preparation for the riot to come. Local leaders, many former government officials incensed about the loss of their positions were offered as speakers to incite nationalistic feelings. Unbeknownst to many of these men and women, they were helping to turn a peaceful rally into a violent mob.

To set off the final straw, a GLF operative in stolen imperial garb opened fire on the crowd from a passing speeder…

Sestria

".... and in conclusion, it is the opinion of our comittee that the proposed buyout of our assets would be against the intrests of our shareholders."

The bank policy board members, broke into a multitude of small conversations after hearing the findings. The member who had been reading the report sat down. The board, the most powerful organization on Sestria, was a compliation of the heads of the numerous banking and finance firms on the planet. Their combined pool of assets was astronomical, and it was the pursuit of that money and much more like it that brought these men out of their penthouses to the neutral site boardroom to discuss bussiness possibilites.

It was often said a meeting of the bank policy board was like the planet's legislative session- with no elected representaion and a lot less accountability.

The main issue before the board tonight had been an impressive bid offered by Belgardi Limited, to assume control and merge all the major fininacial institutions on the planet into a massive, influential financial service sub-division of Belgardi. The deal strived to make them men in that room very rich, and most would retain important high level jobs in their respective firms.

However the comittee assigned to investigate the deal had suggested it might not be in the best intrests of Sestria. Which was for the better anyway, because the Union had never planned on letting one of its major contributors lose a lucrative deal like this one based on the opinions of a few old rich codgers.

One way or the other that deal would be going through.

A board member stood up, and called for attention.

"After reviewing the findings of our exploratory committee, I would like to bring the matter to a vote."

A mere formality, as the board had already decided to follow the recommendations of the commitee, made up primarily of board members themselves.

"All in in favor of accepting the Belgardi bid, please respond with 'aye'."

"All opposed?"

And amid of chours of "nays" the board room exploded in a flash of white light.