It is a time of strife for the stranded Imperial Fleet; Tarkin's Fist. Seeking to reestablish some sense of normalcy they terraformed the planet Mars into a semblance of the Empire they left behind. Wanting no rivals in their infancy the Empire sought to bring their neighbor Earth to its knees by unleashing a war that wiped out a quarter of that world'a population in its opening volley. Seeking to rebuild and survive the Earth has fought back with every means at its disposal. Now, discontented forces from within have struck the Empire at its heart. The Emperor is dead.

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Urban Warfare Training Facility 46-Geck, 2nd Martian Line Corps HQ, Margaritifer Terra, Mars

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"Stop or we'll blast!"

Lieutenant Murp barely heard the warning as he sprinted around another corner inside the warren of alleyways inside the training complex. Several green bolts slapped into the duracrete wall behind him. His heart threatened to burst out of his chest, not from the exhilaration of the chase but from the knowledge that this wasn't a training exercise.

He ran down a small alley and turned left and then right, trying to put as much distance and as many angles between him and his pursuers as possible. The mugginess of the uncharacteristically hot Martian day soaked his uniform in sweat. He slowed for a moment and then frowned when he heard the approaching sound of several heavy plastoid boots.

He sped up even though his lungs were on fire begging for every molecule of oxygen he could spare. He tore the code cylinder from his gray tunic and flung it to the ground, stomping hard on the device as he passed by.

He didn't know what was going on. In the past hour the Home Legion of the Stormtrooper Corps had gone insane. They had arrested hundreds of officers and civilian officials across the military base, as well as during rumored sweeps in the capital itself, before they came for him. Even before the stormtroopers found him, Murp had watched the plume of smoke rising from the northeast and had known that something was wrong. Usually Tarkin Tower in the Ares Vallis could be seen at that distance but today it was nothing more than an ashy pyre on the horizon. Adding to his confusion, the Imperial Royal Guard had initiated a comm blackout across Mars and Murp had no way of reporting in to his commander, Captain Yutu.

"There he is!" An electronically-amplified voice called out.

Murp turned his head to spot a trio of troopers bearing down him. Ahead of him was another alley with the hope of a momentary sanctuary. He tapped into his last energy reserve and ran for it. His speed was so great he didn't have time to react when another stormtrooper stepped out of the alley toward which he was barreling.

The trooper brought up the butt of his E-11 blaster rifle and drove it straight into the Lieutenant's gut. The blow knocked the air out of him and folded him in half as his legs and torso flew forward of their accord. He was momentarily airborne before landing hard on his back. It hurt like a fierfeker to get hit like that. He closed his eyes and winced in agony.

When he opened them again he was gazing into the barrels of four blaster rifles. Two stormtroopers bent down and lifted him up by his shoulders. They restrained his arms as he fought to catch his breath.

From down the roadway an open-topped gravtruck approached. Murp could see a pair of stormtroopers in the back, standing over a dozen officers wearing stuncuffs.

"1st Lieutenant Murp, Quill SigInt Station, Fleet Intelligence?" One of the stormtroopers asked him. The trooper didn't look up from his datapad, which Murp assumed was full of the names of those who were to be arrested.

"Yes, that's me." Murp reluctantly admitted. They had his ID and face on file so there was no sense in denying who he was.

"By orders of Theater Commander Moff Seco of the Ploo Sector of the True Empire, and acting Seneschal of the 1st Martian Empire, you are hereby placed under arrest until such time as you are to be sentenced. You do not have the right to speak. If you defy this then anything you say will be used against you in a court of punishment. You may purchase the services of a litigator. If you cannot afford a litigator you are responsible for your own representation."

"I understand my rights." Murp said.

"I could care less." The stormtrooper replied. He motioned for the others to lead him to the waiting gravtruck.

"Then why are you doing this? I haven't broken any law. I serve the Empire."

The stormtroopers lifted him up and threw him over the tailgate of the truck. He landed with a thud in the midst of the other shackled prisoners. The two troopers in the gravtruck slapped a pair of stuncuffs across his wrists.

The stormtrooper called up from the ground, "So do I, buddy. It's just orders to us."

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Pacific Ocean, 75 miles west of Cabo San Lucas, Mexico

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Eddie Marquand's stomach had finally grown accustomed to the endless rolling motion of the Pacific. A steady diet of fish and seaweed wraps after weeks of near starvation had helped.

There had been nothing the barest of scraps to eat back in Hawaii for months.

He shuddered when he remembered what some people had resorted to in an effort to fend off starvation. The evils they had perpetrated on each other would haunt Eddie for the rest of his life.

Thank God for Mr. Ishiba.

Eddie had found the Japanese fisherman in the early days after the Empire's invasion, after the aliens had killed his friend, Rick Kershner, and abducted his other friend, Jason Bogan. Had we really come to Hawaii for as unimportant as a Star Trek convention, he wondered? It all seemed so unreal.

Mr. Ishiba had a small boat beached near the town of Waianae. It was old and holey and required gasoline for its engine. Eddie offered to help repair it and when Mr. Ishiba seemed reluctant he had offered his credentials as an engineering student. That seemed to be enough for the old fisherman.

With cannibals roaming the countryside and armed gangs rounding up people for slave farms, Mr Ishiba was grateful for all the help he could get. They worked mostly at night, gathering materials to patch the hole and getting the boat seaworthy. They even sanded a telephone pole into a mast.

A displaced family with three small children discovered them shortly after they had started. They had been dumped on Hawaii from Fiji, and like Eddie they had been rejected by the robot doctors on Mars. Evidently their family had some sort of glandular issue that that caused the Empire to disqualify them from becoming slaves. The Nailatikaus had eagerly helped to construct a sail out of several canvas car covers that the family had gathered.

It had taken them a nerve-wracking month to ready the boat. Gunfire and smoke permeated the ruined island day and night. Once they were prepared Mr. Ishiba wanted to wait for a storm to conceal their escape. They didn't have to wait long. These days, storms ravished Oahu once or twice a week.

They used PVC pipes as rollers to get the boat from their concealed, make-shift dry-dock and into the water. Once they were in the water Ishiba used tar to seal any leaks the boat had while the Nailatikas set out coolers to collect rain water. Eddie manned a small net that quickly snared the first of their bait fish.

The storm had eventually blown out but not before pushing them well to the southeast. Without electricity to power the ship's computer and GPS it was difficult to tell where they were. Mr. Ishiba had a compass and some old charts but without any landmarks it was impossible to figure out where to go. They eventually decided to plot a course east and make landfall wherever they could.

They spent their days fishing and listening to short bursts from the solar-powered radio. Los Angeles had fallen and war continued in Asia but that was about all they could determine.

They spent two months on the ocean. Mrs. Nailatikus had been a dietician before the war and told him that seaweed would help with his diabetes. He ate all he could, as well as sashimi for every meal and he learned to like it after a fashion.

Storms continued to push them west but Mr. Ishiba insisted that they head into every one for the rain water. Without fresh water they would have perished shortly after leaving Hawaii and so no one protested the course.

One night the sky was unusually clear likely because they were far from land masses of any significance. Eddie was always amazed at how many stars he could see out here. He had grown up in New York and gone to Boston for school and so he wasn't used to seeing more than a handful every night. Now there were more than his eyes could ever count.

A few of the stars were moving, as they always were. Those were the Empire's space ships that had rained down destruction in a world-spanning fire. Eddie hoped that one small fishing boat would be beneath their notice.

As he continued to find patterns in the stars lights flashed between two of the alien vessels. Tiny streaks of red passed between them. Eddie propped himself up on his elbows and squinted for a better look. "What the hell?"

"What is it?" Mr. Ishiba had also been awake and manning several of the fishing lines that trailed the boat.

"Something's up with the aliens."

Mr. Ishiba looked up just as a bright light flared up from one of the starships. "Hmm? It looks like they are firing on each other."

"Do you think we've got a spaceship up there?"

"Maybe. Maybe the aliens are fighting each other. Whatever it is, I'll take it as a good omen."

Eddie watched as the two space ships drifted away from each other until one of them disappeared altogether. Perhaps it retreated from the fight. Or maybe, hopefully, it had been destroyed.

Mr. Ishiba said nothing else and eventually Eddie drifted off to sleep with the rolling of the boat.

The next day the shores of Mexico were visible from the eastern horizon.

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Command Bridge, Imperial I-class SD Wilderness, Equatorial Orbit over Mauritania, Earth

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Moff Seco's bridge was in turmoil.

No, wait, he was calling himself the Seneschal of the Empire now, Commander Eiryn reminded herself while stifling the urge to roll her eyes.

Officers from various ships and Army units argued with each other inside the crowded bridge. A few fists had been thrown and Naval Troopers had been called in to try to maintain order. Anxiety ran high and was amplified by the fact that the Moff had failed to act immediately following the death of Emperor Yos on Mars, a death brought about by the brave and loyal actions of her lover, Captain Volt, commander of the Insertion.

The Insertion had just arrived from Mars and was now moored alongside the invasion's flagship. The change in venue of the assassination as well as an immediate orbital comm blackout had initially prevented Seco from knowing that their mission had been carried out. Worse, many of the conspirators amongst the fleet weren't convinced that the Emperor was truly dead. No one could get through to Mars, where Operation Diathim was supposedly underway in securing the planet.

"I delivered the bomb, I saw the explosion and I know the man is dead. We need to return to Mars, direct the troops securing the capital and silence the Royal Guard from spreading rumors that he's still alive." Volt told Seco.

"Preposterous. We need to secure the loyalty of every ship in the Fleet, as well as the Army dirtside on Earth, before we advance. With the deaths of the two Yos family members, Mars is already in our hands. Captain Charge already has the situation in the capital firmly under our control."

"My Lord, several Kuati Destroyers and cruisers have broken away from the main fleet. They are retreating to Mars." A crewman shouted from the crew pit.

"Bring up the subspace radar and CommScan feeds." Volt ordered.

"Yes, sir." An image appeared of several Star Destroyers rapidly abandoning their positions in the Fleet's formation.

Eiryn swore to herself. Those ships had Kuati officers and crew who hadn't been completely bought off by Seco's stolen aurodium reserve. Evidently they had overpowered their small Ploo security contingents and taken matters into their own hands. If they weren't acting out of loyalty to their fallen Emperor then they were acting out of loyalty to that old fool of a Moff, Kuantus Kuat. He still held the allegiance of most Kuati in the Empire, which made up the largest portion of the human population in the Empire.

"Do not pursue. We must keep the fleet together." Seco ordered.

"They will add some sizable numbers to the forces opposing us, My Lord." Volt said. Eiryn smiled at how easily her lover had become Seco's trusted right hand. And in doing so he had deposed the corpulent Admiral Neptu, who had been given the menial task of securing Luna Base on the Earth's moon as part of their coup. It was a task that could be handled by even the lowest ranking officer and as such wouldn't alter the outcome of the revolution one way or another.

"Not enough to make a difference. We will still vastly outnumber them." Seco said.

Eiryn added. "Perhaps when they arrive at Mars and find their Emperor dead and their Moff under arrest they will stand down once we arrive."

"I've reached that same conclusion." Seco said, though the tone in his voice hinted that that was the first time the thought had occurred to him. "Culter's fleet under Admiral Bacara has maintained their loyalties due to Moff Culter's gracious presence here." Seco nodded to the Anoat Moff, who was staring out at the planet below.

Culter had shown up a week ago, begging Seco to seek terms with the Earth's scattered governments so that he could repair their world. It was a foolish humanitarian gesture that showed just what a weak-minded, bleeding heart liberal the Anoat Moff truly was, Eiryn mused. Seco had falsely promised Culter he would do so if the governor helped him with the revolution. Both parties, perhaps, sensed treachery and so to maintain Culter's loyalty Seco had kept him at his side ever since their agreement.

"I demand that we move now. We are wasting precious time, time our enemies are using against us." Volt demanded, conviction burning in his every syllable.

"We have enemies amongst us that I insist we deal with first." Seco countered. "Bring fourth Admiral Hadrian."

Two Naval Troopers dragged the limp form of the Kuati Squadron's commander before the gathered assembly. A low moan from the bloodied and bruised officer let them know that he was still alive. The Naval Troopers dropped him at Seco's feet.

Hadrian got to his knees. It was evident to Eiryn that the man had suffered a severe beating and appeared to be unable to stand. Volt had once told her ISB's usual method was to break a man's forearms and wrists before questioning. It saved time, he had told her. Evidently this time they had included the Admiral's shin bones as well.

"You warned those ships of what was happening didn't you?" Seco asked, indicating the escaping Kuati vessels that were still visible on the bridge's subspace radar.

"Kuat before all else." The Admiral gurgled between broken and bloodied teeth.

"Fool." Seco said and removed his pistol from its holster. He pointed it at the traitorous Kuati.

"Long live the Martian Emp . . ." Hadrian shouted. The sharp bark of the pistol silenced him as the bolt caught him in the forehead.

The two Naval Troopers dragged the body from the bridge. Its passing left a long blood trail all the way out of the door.

Seco turned to Volt. "Return to your vessel. Be ready to sail as soon as the Captain Charge signals that the Home Legion has secured the capital."

"We need to move now, My Lord." Volt stepped forward and Eiryn had to grab his arm, fearing that he would do something foolish.

Seco smiled and put a hand on Volt's shoulder. "Why the haste? Don't you see? We've already won."

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Bunker Fortress Frisky Tailhead, Circus Circus ruins, Las Vegas, Nevada, NAU

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Lieutenant Mahan crawled slowly along the shoulder-wide trench between his platoon's forward emplacements and their heavy weapon blast bays. The fortification zigged and zagged every few meters in an effort to defeat incoming slug artillery and mortar bombs. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. The trench was deep enough that Mahan could have stood up and not fully exposed himself to enemy sniper blasts but like every other trooper in 3rd Platoon he had learned through months of combat on Earth that throwing yourself in the mud saved you a trip to a MedStar or your own funeral pyre somewhere back behind the lines.

He passed by several sniper and E-Web dugouts, their troopers manning their positions while silently studying the American lines several blocks away. Every now and then a bolt would sing out as a sniper took a blast at something he had seen in the abo lines. Each kill was no longer a victory to be celebrated but a job that got them one step closer to going home to Mars.

Mahan rounded a corner and entered a blast bay occupied by several Merr-Sonn proton mobile-mortar 3s. Troopers dropped their energy shells into the weapons with a chi-thunk sound. The mortars discharged with a barely audible pop.

"Correct, up three." Platoon Sergeant SF-4738 said. He had been observing the mortar drop from a periscope hung over the far end of the blast bay. A sheet of earth-steel concealed the sergeant's portion of the trench from enemy view. Evidently abo observers inside their so-far impregnable Fortress Stratosphere were getting frisky again.

"Up three." The corporal in charge of the mortar section replied, sounding bored. One trooper sitting upright next to the platoon sergeant seemed to be napping against a box of cutting tools. But if SF-4738 wasn't concerned then he wasn't going to be either, Mahan told himself. Sleep was a rare commodity in the front line and he wasn't going to rob it from anyone as long as it wasn't hurting the platoon. And SF-4738 would tell him if it was hurting the platoon.

He knew that he was technically in charge of the 3rd Platoon but every trooper in the unit knew who really ran the show. Mahan didn't mind. SF-4738 had pulled them out of more scrapes than he could count. The veteran NCO would never get any medals but he'd go into a black hole and back just so every one of the troopers in his charge would get enough to eat and someday go home. Mahan had a tremendous amount of respect for and a healthy dose of fear of the sergeant.

"Hey, Sarge." Mahan sidled up to the NCO, who never took his eyes off the periscope. Imperial Commissars aside, there wasn't a tremendous amount of proper respect in the trenches. After months of combat it didn't even phase Mahan, especially considering a salute would get an American sniper slug through some hapless officer's helmet lens. "What do you think of these new orders that just came down from FleetOps?"

"Fierfek FleetOps. Vacheads all have their heads up their shebs." The sergeant paused for a moment and sighed. News from Fleet was never good for the simple dirt-pounders, "I haven't heard. What kind of poodoo do they want us to do now?" SF-4738 asked.

"Um . . . nothing. We are to hold in place and initiate 'defensive maneuvers'."

"Feirfeking vacheads. Why don't they just say dig in?"

"Cause they're vacheads, Sarge. Like you said, vacheads pull half of what they say out of their own shebs." Mahan laughed, realizing he was doing his best to imitate SF-4738.

"Sounds about right. I'm sure the boys won't mind not having to charge any more of those Ma Deuce heavy repeaters any time soon. Don't let the Commissar hear that though, Loot."

"Roger that, Sarge, um . . . There's more to our orders."

"By the Force, what other poodoo have they cooked up?"

"It's about prisoners."

"They want us to sneak out and do an abo grab tonight? The boys won't like that. It's Fourth Squad's turn, I guess."

"Not quite. Fleet issued an AAC stating that we're to set officers aside for interrogation but all enlisted prisoners are to be executed out of hand." Mahan said.

SF-4738 whipped his head away from the periscope and finally looked Mahan in the face. Mahan suddenly wanted to disappear. "E chu ta, Loot. We can't do that. The boys aren't murderers. They're troopers doing a job. And if we start doing it to the abos what's to prevent them from doing it to us?"

"I don't know, Sarge. This comes all the way from the top. From Seneschal Seco."

"From who?"

"From the Seneschal. I don't know if I'm even pronouncing that right. It's some kind of title the Moff has taken I guess. They've also sent out a directive that any orders given in the field are to be passed through our local Commissar."

"That's a kriffing poodoo way to run the war, Loot. We've got one Commissar in the Battalion and the scum is back with the High Colonel a kilometer back at HQ. How are you going to run orders by him whenever a blaster fight breaks out?"

"Fierfek, I wish I knew. Can I ask you something else?" Mahan pulled off his helmet, indicating he wanted the other man to follow his lead. SF-4738 did so and leaned in so they could talk in private.

"What's up?"

"Sarge, you heard anything from Mars in the last rotation?"

"Not a peep. I don't have any family up there, sir. The boys in 3rd Platoon are about it for me."

"That's what I figured. Well it seems Seco is shaking things up. But get this last part of our orders." Mahan handed a sheet of flimsiplast over to the NCO who gave it a quick read.

"We're to ignore any command given by Moff Kuat or the Imperial Royal Guard? But the Bluecloaks are the Emperor. Ignoring them is ignoring the will of Emperor Yos, a man we all swore our oaths to after we lost contact with Palpatine."

"I know that, Sarge. I just wish I knew what in the Seven Hells was going on up in orbit or back home. Scuttlebutt has it that some of the Fleet has blasted on each other."

"What?"

"Yeah, and if we're not supposed to take orders from Moff Kuat it only means the Kuati did something with the Emperor."

"Stang them. We've got Kuati units all up and down our lines. Can we trust them, Loot?"

"I don't know, Sarge. I really don't know." Mahan, if only in an effort to not disappoint the man across from him, was going to find out. "Put out extra sentries tonight and have our troopers improve their positions."

"I hear that, sir. I suddenly got the inkling our greatest threat isn't across no-beings-land, if you catch my drift." SF-4738 said.

Mahan couldn't agree more.

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Malastare Heights, Culter City, Mars

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Frip hated being short. It didn't help that today was so stang hot as well. The heat was baking the duracrete walkways of the city and sending little ripples of heat energy into the air. A large crowd of beings were being held up by something up ahead of them that he couldn't see.

Why it rain not, he thought? His scales could use a refreshing cleansing of the heavy alkaline dust in the air.

He wondered if they were due for another sand storm like the one they had last year, then noticed the smoke in the air. Paying attention to his surroundings for the first time, he stopped and heard the sounds of dozens of sirens echoing off the towering red walls of the city. Something was happening in the city that had the CCG all stirred up.

Me nothing to do with, the Ishi Tib mused.

"Why are you blocking this roadway?" Someone shouted from up ahead.

"Yeah, I got to get to back to work or my boss at Arakyd Industries is going to kill me!" Another human pleaded angrily.

"Get back in line, resident." An electronically-amplified voicebox ordered. That voice could only belong to one of the Emperor's goons, a stormtrooper.

Frip pushed through the crowd enough to get a better glimpse of what was going on ahead of him. Sure enough, a squad of stormtroopers had the roadway blocked with razor-teeth wire while another squad of troopers scanned identicards at a checkpoint stretching across the walkway. Some beings had already passed through but several others had been pulled aside and sat along one side of the walkway under the watchful gaze of a pair of troopers. An officer at the front of the line checked identicards against a list he had on his datapad. It reminded Frip of the Empire's takeover of his homeworld, Tibrin, when he was a youngling.

Not know I be a pirate, Frip thought, just play along and get by checkpoint. Frip was meeting up with his friends Keatly and Brakatak at a pub several blocks from their homestead. After Ashla had gone out this morning he had been the last one to leave the homestead.

"You can't keep doing this to us. We're Imperial residents. We've got rights, you know." A Quarren yelled at the officer when Frip neared the front of the line.

"Today is not the day to mess with us, Squid-Face." The officer jabbed a finger into the mouthy Quarren's chest. "So shut your trap before I run you in or worse."

As he said that one of the stormtroopers raised his blaster rifle in the Quarren's direction. The protestor backed up in a hurry. "No offense, sir. I know you're just doing your job, and doing it quite well I might add."

Frip snorted at the Quarren's sudden change of heart. He got to the front of the line and politely handed the officer his identicard. The officer took it and checked his name against his list. Frip tried not to look anxious. As far as he knew the crew of the Agen's Light wasn't a known pirate crew. Their slicer, Keatly, made regular checks of the Empire' most wanted lists to make sure.

He looked over at the nearest stormtrooper and thought of his friend, Jason. Frip knew that Jason wasn't among the troopers here because none of them had yet blasted themselves in the foot. The earthling had been gone for three weeks now, his whereabouts unknown as he underwent stormtrooper training. Frip worried that the earthling was going to give himself away and get himself thrown back into that death camp on the other side of the planet but so far the crew hadn't heard anything. Keatly had felt so responsible for crafting the earthling's new indentity that she regularly checked the Imperial Army's court-martial records to ensure he hadn't been found out. So far he seemed to be passing as a native Imperial. Frip was proud of his friend's apparent and previously underutilized deviousness.

"Resident Frip. Home world, Tibrin. Occupation- transport crewbeing for Brakatak Cargo Hauling." The officer read off his datapad.

"Yes, sir. Me that is." Frip replied.

"You check out." The officer handed him back his identicard. "Move along. We've got bigger fish to fry today." The officer grinned at his own joke.

"Thanks." Frip said and hurried past the checkpoint. He avoided eye contact with the hapless beings under guard. He didn't know what they had done and besides, he didn't have the means to help them. It was just life in the Empire, he told himself.

As he rushed to the bar his gaze moved towards the center of the city almost a dozen kilometers to the south. A long plume of smoke drifted away from the top of Tarkin's Tower. Distant fire speeders buzzed around the military headquarters. Frip assumed they had something to do with the checkpoint that he just passed through.

He saw the pub, the Drunken Tusken, ahead. He rushed inside, squinting as his eyes became used to the dimly lit bar. A lone Theelin dancing girl twirled slowly around a pole on the pub's stage. A pair of Mustafarians watched the show with half-hearted interest as they drank their beer at the edge of the stage.

Due to his size, Brakatak was hard to miss in the mostly empty pub. The Gran sat in a booth across from the Firrerreo slicer. Both of them were nursing beers and watching the HoloNews feed on the imagecaster above the bar.

A bored Farghul bartender cleaned glasses behind the bar with what Frip hoped was a clean rag. He nodded at Frip when he entered. Another pair of dancers, a Twilek and a Trandoshan, sat at the far end of the bar smoking tabac pipes.

"A Sarlacc Kicker, please." Frip ordered as he passed by on his way to his friend's booth. The bartender just shrugged and brought over a glass as Frip settled in next to Keatly.

"Sugar?" The bartender asked.

"No thanks, sweet enough I am." Frip replied. The bartender just rolled his eyes and slithered back behind the bar.

"Traffic slow you down?" Keatly asked.

"Checkpoint. Stormies get nasty with beings. Slow everything down." Frip admitted.

"Probably has something to do with that." Brakatak said and pointed at the HoloNews. The screen showed the Imperial Seal while a scroll passed across the bottom of holoimage, urging residents to stay inside their homes by order of the Imperial Royal Guard and the House of Yos. "The HoloNews has been shut down but there's rumors someone took a blast at Emperor Yos himself."

"E chu ta! Who'd be so stoopa?" Frip exclaimed. "Old Palps would have scary Darth Vader kill the scum if any being was so bold"

"Well, Yos doesn't have his own shiny-stick enforcer so someone must have felt it was worth the risk. My guess is one of the Moffs, probably Kuat." Keatly said.

Brakatak shrugged. "Got nothing to do with us or any of the crew. So what is this stuff you've got to show us, fishy?"

Frip dug into the pocket of his tunic and withdrew a small plastoid bag of buds and flowers that smelled of crushed quarrelgrass. He tossed it onto the middle of the table.

"That's not Earth Spice." Brakatak said.

"No, and we get none of that poodoo for some time. Coca plant hate it here on Mars. Very stubborn plant. This is Jason's weed. He plant before he go. it grow crazy like . . . well, a weed in Martian soil." Frip said. Keatly's shoulder's slumped at the mention of the earthling. Frip touched her arm to let her know that no one blamed her for their friend's conscription. "Earth weed grow very wizard. Like . . . well, like a weed. I no know what to do with it. Then I think of tabac and I smoked it."

Brakatak laughed. "You crazy little guppy. You could have poisoned yourself. Well, I had a feeling that crazy clone, Neyo, was leading us on a wild-Mynock chase with his plant-based Earth Spice. We will have to find a way to make more credits some other way."

"No, this stuff very astral. Not kick in shebs like Earth Spice, but stellar for taking edge off. Much better than tabac." Frip was ready for this and removed several small pieces of flimsi from his pocket. He opened the bag and quickly rolled some of the weed into several cigarras. He handed one to each of his friends who skeptically took them from his hand.

Within moments a thick cloud of smoke surrounded their booth. Keatly had developed a case of the giggles.

"Force bless that Jason. You know what? He might have just hit the jackpot with this stuff. I've never felt this relaxed and just, well, good about myself." Brakatak said.

Frip took a sip of his drink to counteract the dry mouth he suddenly felt. "And crazy earthers call it weed. No wonder they be losing the war. Oops, no tell Jason I say that, please." Frip looked around rapidly, worried the earthling had suddenly appeared and overheard him. The booth's occupants giggled at Frip's distress.

"I think we can sell this stuff once things settle down outside. The Empire's got no regulations against selling weeds. I mean, why would they?" Brakatak said.

"Yeah, but weed sounds stoopa. Something a scruffy earther would say. It needs something to spice it up. Let beings know how it will make them feel." Keatly suggested.

The three of them grew silent for a moment as they thought of names they could call this stuff. "You guys ever watch pod-racing? I loved the sport when I was a youngling. There was this one slave youngling out on Tatooine who could do the most amazing flying in a pod-racer." Brakatak said.

"By the core," Frip laughed, "What you are talking of, silly Brakatak friend?"

"Oh, his name popped into my head for some reason. It'd be perfect for this stuff."

"And that would be?" Keatly asked.

"Skywalker."

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FleetOps SigInt Station, Tarkin Tower, Imperial Mars

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"Remember, we serve the Empire." Lieutenant Commander Knebler told the technicians and agents gathered around the room. A loud, rhythmic, metallic pounding could be heard from the sealed entrance.

Knebler glanced at his commander's office and then back towards the central imagecaster in the room. The holoimage of several stormtroopers slowly caving in the secured door with sledgehammers was the focus of almost every eye in the room. It also revealed half a dozen squads worth of Imperial Commandos ready to storm the room as soon as the door came down.

"Holster your weapons. We're not to resist." Knebler repeated his commander's orders. "Those are loyal troopers of the Empire out there. They're following orders, just like we are."

"Yeah, but who's issuing their orders?" A Falleen Lieutenant wondered aloud. Knebler shot her a look that warned her to keep her mouth shut.

There was a loud crack and then a slam as the heavy door fell from its hinges. A heartbeat later the commandos charged through the entrance. "On your knees! Hands up!" orders came from a dozen mouths at once as the intelligence agents were subdued.

"Lieutenant Commander Knebler?" One of the commandos asked while pointing his blaster rifle in his face. "Where is your commander?"

"I don't have to tell you anything." Knebler replied defiantly.

"I'm right here." Captain Yutu stepped from his office. Immediately a trio of commandos rushed to take him into custody. They pulled his arms behind him and slapped stun cuffs on them.

"Sir, you are under arrest, under order of Seneschal Seco in conformity of regulations passed down through Operation Diathim." A commando officer said.

"On what charges?" Yutu asked.

"Treason and conspiracy against the crown." A voice said from the door. Knebler turned in that direction and recognized the speaker as Captain Charge, Yutu's equal in the Bureau of Operations. The officer was followed into the room by Colonel Katarn, Commander of the Home Legion, and Commissioner Jord'Dan, Superintendent of the Culter City Guard. Knebler, from years of intelligence expertise, read both men in an instant. The pair appeared hesitant to be following the Naval officer's lead. Their frowns made them look unsure what to make of the events of the day.

"I've committed no such offense and neither have my men. We serve the Empire." Yutu retorted.

"Nonsense, you have been in league with the Royal Guard in their attempt to assassinate the Emperor and take over the government here on Mars. Furthermore, you are guilty of aiding and abetting the actions of the enemy during the events that led to the destruction of the Eradicate and the Earth 2 colony. Seco has proclaimed himself Seneschal and will be presenting evidence at your sentencing and execution." Charge informed them. "Several of your men will join you."

Knebler swallowed hard. As Yutu's second-in-command he knew he was facing the chopping block alongside his commander.

"How much did he pay you?" Yutu accused Charge. Katarn and Jord'Dan looked at each other in confusion. Perhaps they were honest officers who were being duped, Knebler hypothesized.

Charge leaned in and whispered something to Yutu with a smile on his face. Yutu frowned. Knebler and the other officers had just been far enough out of earshot to miss out on what the Directors had said to each other.

"What of the Emperor?" Yutu asked.

"Dead. His body has been located by rescue crews amongst the wreckage upstairs." Charge informed the room. There were several gasps from the intelligence staff, as well as from some of the stormtroopers who had broken into the station.

"And the Princess?" Knebler yelled across the room.

"Dead as well, we assume. Blasted down by Guardsmen assassins in Tarkin's Square." Charge said. "Your conspirators in the Royal Guard have surely recovered her body and are holding it at the Palace. They still hold the Royal Residence, as well as the HoloNet broadcasting center, where they are attempting to jam all off world communication. We hold the rest of the capital, or we will by nightfall."

Knebler decided that Charge was a fool to let an enemy know so much of his doings. And not verifying the Princess's death would allow hope to grow in the Empire. Hope that whatever nefarious plan Seco had launched against the Empire failed. By the Force, let her be alive, Knebler said to himself.

"Who is 'We'?" Yutu asked.

"The loyal troopers of the CCG and the Home Legion working under the orders of Moff Seco, Admiral Neptu, Moff Culter, and myself as sole acting Director of the Bureau." Charge replied merrily.

"What of Captain Dual? Where is Kuat? Hadrian? Bacara? Nake?" Yutu baited his fellow Director.

Charge blissfully supplied the answer. Knebler could see greedy credit signs in Charge's eyes. It was obvious to everyone in the naval intelligence crew that the Supply Director had been bought off with promises of power or, more likely, a mountain of aurodium. "Our dear comrades, Captains Dual and Nake, have perished at their Emperor's side. Admiral Hadrian is being dealt with by the Seneschal. I'm not sure what Bacara is up to. The affairs of clones are beneath me."

Across the room Colonel Katarn suddenly glared. The Colonel had fought aside clones during the last war in the Home Galaxy and many of his best friends had been decanted on Kamino. It was no wonder he didn't appreciate the Director's harsh choice of words.

"Their deaths are on your hands, scum." Yutu goaded him.

"And many more will be on yours. Can you get the Royal Guard to stand down?" Charge asked.

"You know as well as I do that they are not in the military hierarchy. They follow their own chain of command, which starts with a member of the Royal family." Yutu said.

"Well then, they have no one left to follow. Surely they will see reason and stand down."

"The Force help you if you're wrong." Yutu stared vibrodaggers of hate at his former comrade.

"We shall see, won't we?" Charge turned to the stormtroopers. "Take them away."

/
authors note

if you are confused please read episides I and II. Also I own none of this, the mouse does. Please reviews are always appreciated.