Title: "The Battle of Hoth" (A Snowtrooper's Perspective)
Genre: Rebellion Era/Original-Trilogy (Empire Strikes Back)
Summary: *See Introduction Below*
Author: Admiral Vorec
Characters: Gavin Bakis (OC), Darth Vader (Canon), General Veers (Canon), plus many more.
Author's Introduction: This is an Imperial Perspective story. You'll see some of the more famous Rebel characters on scene during the battle, but through the eyes of a trooper.

Now, I want to note that sources state that 501st troopers were only ever clones. The trooper depicted in this story is not a clone but a replacement. I find it hard to believe that after the Death Star, the 501st was able to replenish all of their forces with JUST clones. Seeing as how clones started to phase out towards the start of A New Hope. Anywho, I've placed this character into the storyline still following the sources. This will be explained later on in additional updates.

This is part one of two or three. I haven't finished the story completely, but I do know where it is going. Depended upon my next "part" or chapter, we'll see how long this gets. ALL comments, questions, and suggestions are absolutely encouraged. This story marks my third posted on the forums, and there's at least three more to come (not to mention finishing this one and my "novel" Height of an Empire).

So with that, I give you the Imperial story of one trooper in possibly the greatest Star Wars battle ever... Hoth.

"The Battle of Hoth: A Snowtrooper's Perspective"

The 501st Stormtrooper Legion, or more commonly known throughout the galaxy, “Vader’s Fist”. This fighting force was synonymous with fear, death, and victory throughout the Core Worlds and well into the outer rim territories. So, when Gavin Bakis received his transfer orders to the unit, he couldn’t help but smile. This was a unit with history, and a unit that had forged itself in years of combat to become the most elite of the Imperial Army. Today would be his first deployment with the new unit.

He sat back into his harness as he thought about the battle ahead. He knew from the intelligence reports and the briefings by his Platoon Commander that the Rebels were well defended. Not new to combat, he was still anxious. He couldn’t stop himself from checking his gear over and over to make sure everything was ready to go. Thankfully to him, he could see the other Troopers doing exactly the same thing.

Gavin, otherwise known as “Tank” to his comrades due to his large size had recently served in the 507th Legion until being transferred to the Carida academy for some advanced training, then here.

Here, he thought. Sitting aboard an All-Terrain Troop Transport that was marching towards destiny. He would be part of the first wave of Snowtroopers making the assault on the Rebel’s Echo Base. Darth Vader, the icon for the unit, would be arriving via shuttlecraft as the 501st hit the ground. Gavin had only run into him a few times, and was always impressed with his cunning style. Not to mention scared out of his mind. The stories around the platoon about Officers that have failed Vader and ended up buried on some off-world. He didn’t want that. This battle would give him the opportunity to shine.

He rechecked his E-11 BlasTech blaster rifle again just to make sure it had a fully charged power pack, and then ran through a diagnostics check of his helmet. Everything seemed to check out.

The door to the cockpit slid open, and Gavin’s Commander emerged. He held his right hand up quieting the chatter while holding his helmet in his left. “Ok Troopers, stand by, the transport will arriving at the deployment zone momentarily. Once we receive the go order we’ll disembark and begin the attack. The pre-designated target, Landing Bay Three, is our objective. Move fast, and overwhelm the enemy”, and with that he turned back into the cockpit sealing the door behind him.

“Tank” couldn’t see outside of the transport and the stabilizers did a decent job of keeping the ride smooth. It would now just be a matter of time before they reached their drop zone and hit the ground.

Gavin looked around the small compartment for probably the first time really taking in the scene. Troopers were lined along the two benches on the left and right sides of the transport, while the Non-Commissioned Officers sat on the more comfortable seating in the center. Each trooper carried either an E-11 Blaster or a DLT-20A rifle. A few of the troopers towards the rear of the benches were tasked with retrieving the E-Web from the weapons locker. That was perhaps the most powerful weapon aboard the walker that the Troopers could get their hands on.

A small click came across the internal comlink of Gavin’s helmet, as well as the rest of the troopers in his squad alerting them of an incoming transmission.

“Ok troopers... we have the go order from General Veers. We’ll be debarking in thirty seconds. Watch your fire, and be aware that Lord Vader is going to be on the ground with us. So don’t make me look bad.” The Commander ended the transmission to his troops.

Gavin could hear the motivator engine whine down to a stop, and with a sudden gut lifting jolt the walker began lowering itself towards the ground. Towards the middle of the cargo space came a snap and hiss as the door to the transport was opened, and the ramp began to extend. Almost immediately the harsh winds and snow began to pour into the now exposed interior. If not for the regulated armor the troopers were wearing they might have frozen to death in a matter of seconds.

With the ramp fully extended the troopers got to their feet and began filing out of the walker in standard Imperial fashion. Once on the ground they broke off into their respective squads and headed towards their defensive positions.

Gavin’s polarized lenses quickly compensated for the brightness associated with the snow as he stepped off of the platform, and sunk in to his knees. He hurried off as best he could to meet up with his squad mates towards the left end of the objective. His squad had set up and were standing by while the demolitions crew set their charges on the docking bay doors.

Off to his right, Gavin could see the E-Web crews setting up in strategic positions, while the rest of the men found their own respective places. He was impressed at how everyone moved in unison and knew exactly where they needed to be. This was especially comforting considering the fact that the majority of the 501st were new transfers after the loss of over half the Legion from the Death Star incident. But apparently the dozens of training operations and mock battles had helped considerably.

Behind Gavin were a number of All-Terrain Scout Transports, or as many called, the AT-ST. They must have been on their way to something important because they didn’t even take a second to see what the Troopers were up to.

Click. “Charges set, stand by for detonation.” Gavin glanced up to see the retreating demolitions crew, and then put his head down. Had it not been for the dampeners in his helmets’ audio receivers, he likely would have gone deaf. He looked up as the smoke began to clear and watched as the two blast doors separated and fell to the ground.

Click. “Move in, go!” Came the order from his Squad leader, and under the cover of blaster fire, Gavin and his squad moved into the large open landing bay.

Yes, I know it's past the deadline and that a winner has been announced, but I suddenly felt like writing a fan fic, and reacted to the urge by... doing so. Let's see how far I can be bothered to keep on doing this . Enjoy!
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Jochen (a dreadful name, he knew, but all fan fic characters seemed to have ridiculous names, and why the smurf should he be an exception) woke up as he was being extracted out of the bacta tank. He was then dried, put in bandages, and left on a bunk while his comrade Karlin (see what I mean?) entered the room and knelt down beside him.

"What... happened...", he managed to stutter. In response, his comrade bit his upper lip, clearly not eager to convey that Jochen had once again been the victim of one of his own colossal screw-ups. Eventually, though, he reluctantly informed Jochen that while they were having lunch together in their quarters, he had been surprised by a Yavin wasp and, flailing away from the insect, struck the dangerously low-hanging hard plastic ceiling lamp and knocked himself unconscious.

"But... it hurts...", Jochen protested. The painful concussion was very likely caused by the ceiling lamp, but he also had suffered a broken finger, his body was covered by cuts and bruises, and he had very obviously broken at least one rib. A couple teeth also seemed to be missing. He was crestfallen - no one suffered such injuries as a result of the clever teamwork of a wasp and ceiling lamp! Not even he!

"Well", replied his comrade, "unfortunately, what with Hoth having full priority, we still haven't gotten around to go through that bug list, and so when you lost consciousness you glitched through the floor, and after having fallen three floors, your rag doll interacting with an astromech droid, vibro-blade display, and another ceiling lamp on your way down, you finally landed on the ground, two meters below the ground floor... where you stayed until we could get hold of a mapper who removed part of the base static, allowing us to extract you.

Damnit, Jochen thought, why must the mod's many bugs and glitches always end up hurting him. Just last month he'd been struck down by standing half a meter away from an idling Combat Speeder, and half a year before that on Mos Espa he'd broken his nose when he walked right into an invisible building collision mesh.

Then all of a sudden, perhaps due to the arrival of the Death Star in the system, but more likely because the author couldn't be arsed into seguing this scene and the next together, the alarm sounded. The medical droid threw Jochen into a repuslorwheelchair, and away they went to the briefing room.

As referred to in the news post here is a full list of the rules and guidelines for the First Strike Fan Fiction Contest.

The Rules

This is a short story writing competition, your story should be no more than 2000 words (we'll give you a grace margin of 100 words, because we're kind like that, but a word over 2100 and we'll have to disqualify the entry), and should take its inspiration from either any of the intel reports from current First Strike maps (you can take a line from the report and expand upon that, or the situation described as a whole), or you can also create fiction based on in game experiences within First Strike. Contestants can submit as many entries as they like but will only be judged on the best one of them, so you won’t get extra points for creating a multi story saga, any story will be judged on its individual merits. Your stories must also fall within parameters that are in tune with the spirit of the Star Wars movies, meaning no pornographic or excessively gory or profanity filled pieces. Aside from that you should just go for it and let those creative juices flow.

Entries shall be posted by their authors in the Contest Forum in individual threads for each story. Here you can post them for people to see and critique, and you can as the competition continues post additional improved drafts based on people’s feedback if you wish. The final version of the story in the thread at the time of the close of the contest will be the one that is entered into judging for the competition.

Once the closing date of the competition has been reached on...

Friday the 29th of May 2009

All the entry threads will be locked and a panel of judges made up of Dev team members will read these works giving them marks out of 5, The story with the most points after this period of judging will be declared the winner, and the writer will receive his or her prize that being the opportunity to write an Intel Report as mentioned above.

As for the issue of copy write, a contestant by submitting a story gives us the right to publish it only on our forums, we may not publish the work elsewhere and it may not be reproduced in any fashion other than relating to the FS Fan Fic Contest, but this does not affect the author's right to publish his or her work as he or she sees fit.

Finally the Intel Report written by the contest winner as part of their prize will become the property of First Strike to be used within the mod and in any promotional material relating to that mod.

FS Fan Fic Contest Forum Guidelines

Now we can move on to the guide for contestants and visitors' use of the Contest Forum.

Contestants wishing to submit a story for the competition may do so by posting a thread, the title of which should be the title of the story within (also in the first post indicate what is serving as the inspiration for your tale, which map's Intel Report for instance, or if you're using in game experience, make a note of which map). In this thread multiple drafts can be posted of that story, and that story only. If you wish to submit another separate story then you must start another thread for that entry. The final draft of the story in the thread at the close of the contest will be the one judged. Only the original author may post drafts of their story in a contest entry thread, drafts written by people other than the original author will be ignored or deleted.

Forum users may wish to post critiques of people's work and are free to do so in these contest entry threads, or in separate threads within the Contest Forum, but please try and keep all criticism positive, and as with all the forums flaming and baiting will not be tolerated.

I think that is just about it.

Have fun and enjoy the contest.

A prologue if you like, to Mos Espa.

Mos Espa

First Strike: Episode I

The Alliance to restore the Republic has won its first critical victory against the mighty Galactic Empire with the destruction of the Emperor's new super weapon; the Death Star during the Battle of Yavin. Though victorious Rebel forces have had to flee the system, their hidden base revealed, and in the months since the Alliance has searched far and wide for a new secret base of operations with the Imperial Fleet in hot pursuit.

At last elite Rebel Pathfinders have successfully discovered a viable new location in the Hoth system. With initial surveys completed Alliance Central Command have agreed to make Hoth their new base. Fearing that even heavily encrypted coded transmissions could be intercepted, trusted couriers have been dispatched to deliver the coordinates of the new base to the Rebel Fleet currently spread throughout the galaxy...

The dusty brown orb of Tatooine bursts forth into view as Eben Vaile's craft drops out of hyperspace. The trip so far had been long, but he was on the last leg now. Once he had made a quick stop off in Mos Eisley for refueling he should be but one jump away from his final destination, and then his valuable package would be delivered and his vital mission completed. As always he had no idea what was on the data module he was carrying, it was sealed in a security cylinder which could only be opened by the code key of its intended recipient. In this case the Commander of the fleet currently stationed in space near Hypori.

Eben adjusted the attitude thrusters of his Corellian Agrippa class light courier vessel as it crossed over the terminator from night to day, and rotated so that Tatooine's harsh blistering surface now lay beneath him, passing close to one of its moons he prepared for final approach to the city port of Mos Eisley.  Once within range of the sprawling desert metropolis he transmits registration codes, falsified of course, and receives telemetry data for a flight path to his designated hanger. Floating over the drum shaped structure, landing struts unfurl from beneath the craft's hull and with the cutting of sublight engines and a final firing of thrusters it comes to rest on the hanger floor, exhaust gases pluming forth from vents in its belly as the ship's engines wind down to stand by mode. Releasing himself from the pilot's concussion chair, Eben spots through the transparasteel viewport a service droid approach his ship as he collects his gear and moves aft towards the boarding ramp.

Datapad in hand the service droid dutifully waits for his latest customer to arrive. Eben strolls down the ramp and hardly breaks stride as the droid comes along side and walks with him.

"Welcome to Mos Eisley sir. I have you booked in for the standard refueling and servicing of your vessel, and of course mooring fees for your short stay on world. If I may trouble you for payment we can get right along with the job at hand."

Eben removes a credit cylinder from a hidden pocket in his jacket and passes it over the data receiver of the droid's pad, data scrolls down the screen to confirm payment.

"That will do nicely sir. All services should be completed by 09:30 hours local time. If there is anything else I can do for you, please don't hesitate to..."

By this point Eben has already mounted the stairs that lead up to street level leaving the service droid in his wake. Breaking through the arched entrance to the hanger complex into the bustling crowds of Mos Eisley, all manner of creatures and denizens pass him by as he gets his bearings, momentarily blinded by the binary sunshine. He recognizes the area, and Chalmun's Cantina shouldn't be far from here, just enough time to make it there, get something to eat and head back. He pulls his jacket around him tight and braces himself for entering into the relentless flow of life before him.

Enveloped in relative darkness and greeted by the warm muggy fog of various spices and smokes Eben steps over the threshold of Chalmun’s Cantina and steps down into the main bar area, past a wall mounted droid detector, these sort of establishments were not fond of uninvited mechanical visitors, and what with the events of the Clone Wars several decades ago and the part droids played in it, who can blame people for not wanting them around? The usual shady clientele were present as always, spacers from across the galaxy in all shapes and sizes. Moving over to a free alcove Eben takes a seat and gestures for a waitress to come over and take his order. They don't serve much food at the Cantina, and what they do serve isn't great, but he hasn't come here for the food or the service for that matter. It is locations like this where an astute observer can gauge the mood of the galaxy. As he tucks into his plate of food he keeps his eyes and ears open drinking in any stray information he can. A Duros pilot is talking about the mysterious fate of the planet Alderaan and how nobody seems to have a clue what happened there. The barkeep mentions how the Empire seem to be suggesting that the Rebellion may have had something to do with it. Another barfly continues by declaring that the Empire have put out a bounty on any suspected Rebellion member or sympathizers head so large that any Rebels would simply turn themselves in just to get the reward. The figures at the bar laugh and continue to drink their beverages, and Eben continues to eat his meal. Out of the corner of his eye he picks up on the attention of a figure leaning in the darkness of an alcove across the other side of the bar, swathed in protective desert robes, Eben catches a glimpse of light shining on metal beneath them. Armor perhaps? He catches the man's eye, and immediately wishes he hadn't, the face human, but terribly scarred, half concealed under a hood of bandages. Eben realizes coming here might not have been the best idea after all, and quickly looks away and swiftly finishes his meal. Leaving some credit chits at his table he gets up to leave, glancing over his shoulder he realizes the shadowy figure is no longer in the alcove. Not good, not good at all.

Eben emerges once again into the hot desert air of the dusty streets of Mos Eisley, looking this way and that he doesn't spy the man out here and quickly joins the flow of the crowd and heads back towards his hanger. Coming around a street corner there is a sudden clap of thunder and the ground beneath his feet shakes violently throwing all in the street to the ground. A fountain of fire erupts in the distance and hot fragments of debris rain down on the street. A large piece of hull paneling clatters down onto the street before him after bouncing off of the wall of a nearby building. Eben instantly recognizes it as part of his ship. Looking up at the rising column of black smoke he realizes he won't be leaving anytime soon. He has somehow been compromised.

He runs across the street down a side passage away from the location of his hanger, breaking out into a larger street he quickly glances around himself assessing the situation, still no sign of that mysterious figure, a bounty hunter most likely. He grasps hold of his bag and feels for the contents inside, still secure. He then spies a youth in a speeder just pulling out and moves to flag him down.  The speeder slows to a halt and the human teen at the driver's wheel looks up at him.

"Can I help you Mister?"

Eben then fishes out his credit cylinder and prepares to make the kid an offer he can't refuse.

"Yeah, I'd like to buy your landspeeder off you, but I need it right now, how does ten thousand credits sound to you?"

The teen's eyes grow wide as he just can't believe what he's hearing.

"Ten thousand!?"

Eben sits on the landspeeder's hood and passes the kid the cylinder, while all the time scoping out the immediate area for threats.

"Check it out, it's genuine, but come to a decision quick kid."

Verifying its authenticity the youth grins from ear to ear, his eyes growing even wider. Eben fingers the hold out blaster within his tunic, just in case he has to get a little more persuasive, he really doesn't have time for this.

"You've got a deal Mister!"

Eben releases his grip on his pistol and jumps off the hood of the speeder.

"That's great kid, now get out."

Eagerly the youth vacates his seat as Eben swiftly slides in, and the kid marvels at the heavily loaded credit cylinder and stashes it in a pocket as Eben guns the engines and leaves him in a cloud of dust.

"Damn, with this much credit I should be able to afford one of those new XP-38s!"

Eben rockets away from the outskirts of Mos Eisley, and when in open desert he slows to consult the speeder's onboard navi-computer, the screen flashes up with the immediate area. Mos Espa isn't too far, and so deserted these days that it is almost a ghost town, that'll do, just a little north of here. He sets up the route and then floors the throttle again and speeds off into the unforgiving desert sands.

Constantly checking aft for anyone following him Eben then delves his free hand into his bag and fishes out a sophisticated high powered comlink. Setting the controls he keys it to an emergency frequency which the Alliance has managed to equip its agents with which uses the Empire's own Holonet subspace transceivers to bounce signals across the galaxy. Setting the comlink to record he speaks into the receiver.

"Central Command this is Agent 1138, have become compromised on route to Hypori Sector Command, mission incomplete, current location Tatooine. I suspect there is, or are Bounty Hunters on my trail and am taking steps to ensure that the package does not fall into enemy hands. Will off load security cylinder unobserved and activate secure transponder beacon in accordance with standard emergency protocols. Agent 1138 signing off."

Keying off for the end of the recording Eben then hits the transmit button which scrambles the message and then sends it in a high power burst transmission to the nearest subspace transceiver. Then secure in the knowledge that his transmission was successful he drops the comlink into the passenger seat, pulls out his holdout blaster and fires twice at the device causing it to erupt in a shower of sparks burning the upholstery. He then turns his attention fully to the way ahead. On the horizon he spies what must be Mos Espa and adjusts the controls of the landspeeder trying to coax every last ounce of speed out of the engines.

Eben cuts across the outskirts of the quiet town and slows down to a less distressing speed as he enters the streets, he sees a few locals, but nothing too suspicious. He passes by a dilapidated junkyard, seeing mountains of mechanical debris within. Finding the security cylinder within all that junk would be near impossible. Coming around to pass by the yard again Eben makes sure that there is no one around, and slowing slightly, but not stopping, he grabs the security cylinder, activates the beacon, and tosses it over the wall into the junk pile. He then floors the throttle once more and heads for the edge of town and the open desert.

The best thing he can do is keep moving, as far away as possible from the location of the security cylinder, with any luck he can lead any pursuers he may have picked up away from the prize. Once far enough away he can hole up in the mountains for a time until the heat is off, or a Rebel Strike Team arrives to recover the cylinder. Breaking him from his thoughts Eben spies a strange shadow on the desert floor ahead of the speeder.

"I have a bad..."

In mid sentence Eben looks over his shoulder aft and is momentarily blinded by the suns, and then the silhouette of a swoop bike bleeds into his vision, and it is all too close. A fist swings out from the figure riding the swoop, and then there is nothing for Eben but bright white light.

Amid the chaos and sea of distressed faces, a figure pressed his way through the confusion and moved towards the landing area. His lips curled into a snarl as he saw his cadets milling around on the pad. A few stormtroopers were with his young trainees and their animated expressions made it clear they were arguing how to proceed.

Resisting the urge to drag his palms over his face in displeasure, Flight Commander Sors began to organise men who should have known their duty.
Pilots rushed to their cockpits and support personnel took up positions to guide the fighters through VTOL.

'REBEL FORCES HAVE MADE PLANETFALL: REPEAT: REBEL FORCES HAVE MADE PLANETFALL'
The broadcast system contested with Sors' shouting and he had to gesture to get one of his cadets to follow him to the Lambda shuttle. He pushed a storm trooper sergeant to get his attention and motioned towards the ramp.

Sors sat in the cockpit, hearing the engine's rising whine as he powered the systems up. Behind him, armoured boots clomped up the boarding ramp, signaling the arrival of the stormtrooper squad.

Incompetence.
Surrounded by it. Jim Sors had a promising career before a difference with an old bitter officer had lead to his posting here on this backwater refinery. Bandomeer had no orbital defenses- Command had determined the risk of attack to be too minimal to dedicate fleet resources.
What it had was an aging shuttle and a handful of snub fighters for air superiority.
Sors- an ace pilot had been assigned to train new recruits to fly here- the dimmest bunch he'd ever been burdened with.
Jim snapped out of his reverie as a chime from his instruments notified him that the base turbolasers had finally been manned AFTER the rebels had landed on the planet.
Incompetence.

Flight control eventually gave the order to scramble- but the lambda was already in mid air and the fighters were already screaming into the distance, on Sors' command. Another breach of regulations he'd likely be pulled over the coals for. Amateurs.

Jim punched the throttle to full and gritted his teeth as he heard a sickening scream and crunch behind him. One of the troopers had failed to engage his grav harness despite months of drilling. One dead and they hadn't encountered the enemy yet.

On his sensors and in the sky before him, Jim read the unfolding area battle with a veteran's eye. Not good. The rebels were overwhelming his unskilled pilots - but they were at least keeping fighters away from him...

A warning shriek sounded in the cockpit and Jim instinctively jinked. The Lambda took a glancing blow to its upper wing which made the shields glow bright red. Jim turned hard to find the ship that had fired on him amidst the fur ball and was dismayed to see another lambda in the distance, spitting out  laserbolts and coming right at him. His gunners should have seen it coming.

Lambdas could put out a lot of firepower but were extremely well shielded and armoured. An engagement could go on forever. This enemy had likely dropped off it's rebel passengers and was trying to engage his lander in a lengthy dogfight. It was a stalling tactic and Sors didn't have the time. Already the refinery outskirts were being overrun by rebels.

Engines were already at full nominal power. Draining power from the blastercannons, he routed additional power to the thrusters and shunted shield energy double forward.  His lambda raced directly for  the enemy shuttle and the rebel pilot suddenly saw the danger he was in.
The rebel pilot tried to veer and avoid a collision but Jim rolled his ship, throwing his wing out horizontal and catching the rebel ship in the cockpit.

The lights dimmed as the shields collapsed and the impact threw Jim hard against his restraints. The heavily armoured wing had cut through the armourcrys cockpit  and the rebel shuttle was falling, but so was the Imperial ship. The collision had damaged vital repulsors and the shield feedback had fried the guidance systems.

Jim Sors fought for control of the craft as the refinery became larger and larger in the view. He managed take power heading to the broken shield relays and force it to the remaining repulsors. With the ground looming closer and closer he dragged the nose up and allowed the wings to bring them level, before forcing them shut for a crash landing. The damaged ship hit the ground hard, making a deep furrow in the earth. As it came to rest, Jim extended the powerful landing gear , lifting the shuttle off the ground. The crash landing still ringing in his ears, Jim threw off his restraints and turned to grab the ramp controls.

Dizzily, the remaining stormtroopers stood and grasped weapons. As Jim lowered the ramp, the sergeant gave the order to charge, with a distorted gurgling that Jim suspected indicated he had vomited inside his helmet.

Realising the shuttle wouldn't fly again, Jim drew his heavy sidearm and shouted at his subordinates to evacuate. One gunner complied but the other cowered in his seat , hands cramped around his weapons controls, his face pale.

Jim felt his pistol hand begin to rise to shoot the miscreant but thought better of it and marched down the ramp in disgust.

Outside was a mess. Smoke pouring from the shuttle obscured his view. Ahead he could hear the sounds of blasterfire and make out the dim glow of a portable shield. Keeping low , he headed towards the glow, emerging from the smoke to find the battle had been fought without him.
A shield ring had been hastily erected around the Imperial position. A weaponless rebel officer stood defiant at blasterpoint, Stormtroopers surrounding him and a few of his men. The rebels blasters lay in a pile on the ground, where rebel troopers clutched smoking wounds and an Imperial medic knelt inspecting downed imperials. Corpses from both sides lay where they fell.

The sergeant began to question the rebel officer , punctuating unanswered questions with blows from his unpowered shock baton. A stormtrooper stepped in and stopped a young rebel who moved to intervene with an E11 stock to his face. The rebel clutched his broken nose with both hands and slumped to his knees, shouting obscenities in an obscure language and nasal accent.

Jim hefted the rebel officer's map unit. He frowned as he noted the icons denoting proximity of Rebel forces and the distance of Imperial units. The Imperials had been pushed back , the Rebels had taken control of the communications tower and demolished the barracks They were swarming the freighter landing area now..

Now they were in the rebels rearward, they had an opportunity to strike, but they would need to move fast. Jim still doubted that the base could be saved but what other option did he have?

Jim's mind suddenly registered the rising whine behind him. The shuttle was powering up for takeoff? That idiot cadet- it would never fly... Jim closed his eyes and ran.
Behind him he could hear the groaning of metal and the shouting of troopers as the inexperienced cadet managed to topple the shuttle forwards and boost it along the ground towards the assembled soldiers. Jim felt the static sting of the PSG's shield playing over him as he passed through and a sudden deafening percussive blast threw him to the ground as the shuttle exploded, sending shrapnel and flames washing over a wide area.

He tried to rise but fell down, his head still ringing from the sound and his sense of up and down still failing.
Struggling to his knees, then his feet, he turned to find a handful of rebels picking themselves up on his side of the shield and a sense of panic flooded him. Where were the stormtroopers? Probably shredded by the blast, the dim witted fools.
As if to confirm this, a helmet, blackened by fire, fell from the sky and embedded itself in the ground beside him.

His panic subsided as training and experience reasserted itself. Somehow, he had managed to hold on to his pistol- it was held tightly in his fist and he raised that now, trying not to let his arm waver.

The Rebels stopped and watched him. There was scant few feet between him and the Rebel officer. He kept the Rebels covered as his mind raced- there were five of them. If they rushed, he could probably shoot two before they reached him. Could he fight three?
The Rebel with the broken nose produced a wicked bladed knife from somewhere and snarled menacingly, his face feral and covered with blood.

The Officer raised a hand to warn him to stay back.

'Your move Imperial. I have armoured units inbound and fighters aware of our whereabouts.' The Officer's voice was laboured- he had obviously been injured during his 'interrogation' or the blast. Maybe both.
' If you run now you can still escape. My men are preparing to lift off with the Ionite now. We will be off this world within four hours. We will not pursue you. You have my word.'
Jim had seen the displays. The Officer was not bluffing. But would he really let him go? He had heard official reports of the ruthless honourless rebels- and whispered rumours that denied this.
'If you fight, you will die.'
Jim believed him.
But if he ran from combat, he was as good as dead once Imperial reinforcements arrived. That wasn't much of a choice.

Jim sighed. It was better than staying here. He span his pistol in his hand and held it by the barrel, offering the grip to the Officer.

' I am Flight Commander Jim Sors. I hereby request defection to the Rebel Alliance.'

Captain Gwynzer raised the macrobinoculars to his eyes and scanned the distant hilltop, he squinted in an effort to see more detail through the rising blizzard, flurries of snow masking any detail. He had arrived on Rhen var only a few weeks ago along with his second in command, Lt. Commander Samzi, and the other remnants of his disgraced squad. Although recognised as being tactically brilliant, Gwynzer and his unit had been sent to the icy world in punishment. Imperial Command would not soon forget the losses inflicted by a band of Rebel insurgents at the Tattooine city, Bestine.

He too paused at the sound of the echoing blast, barely audible above the harsh wind that snapped around them. “Too far to be the main Rebel advance,” he said glancing at the nearby medic, “must be the armoured battle on the other side of the mountains.”

“I guess.” answered the medic as the snow collected around his protective white armour. Behind them, Oddball broached a small hill and trudged onwards through the drifts, reaching back to his utility belt and grasping a small object. Activating the units power control he placed the portable shield generator around the hastily erected Eweb blaster cannon.

“Anything?” asked the gruff trooper.

Gwynzer studied his latest addition to the squad before turning his gaze back towards the distant peak. “Nothing yet, take up positions covering the flank, I don’t want to be surprised.” Oddball nodded in agreement then ventured back through the snow, followed by two other troopers. Over the howl of the wind came the unmistakable high pitch of speederbikes. Gwynzer looked back to Samzi, his eyes burning in to the medic even through the protective helmet and cold, “No-one gets through this position. No-one.”

Moff Targ Th’Nar watched with satisfaction as green dots on the screen indicated the placement of his troops. He was in overall command of the secret Rhen var facility and had placed groups of his troopers along strategic positions. There were limited approaches to the base, by utilising the terrain and a small number of standard Imperial watchtowers, he was confident the beleaguered Rebels would fail. His forces were deployed so that should one area be lost, they could retreat and regroup before plunging back and reclaiming the territory. Crack units held the rearmost positions, ready to rush forward to bolster the sacrificial troops that held the frontline. He rubbed his hands in quiet satisfaction and considered adding the ATST to the battle, maybe even accompany it himself and lead by example.

Gurd led the Rebel strike force as they secured the first peak, soldiers of the Alliance rushed around him, dropping to the powdery snow as they looked through weapon sights. Speederbikes flashed past as drivers circled round checking for enemy troops, occasionally slowing to allow their passengers to dismount. Behind them, more troops advanced from the Rebel transport and took up position as Gurd studied the terrain. Two routes lay open, one a small narrow canyon that may leave them open to sniper fire. The other took them directly through an Imperial watchtower and represented the greatest danger. He couldn’t risk any Imperial troops advancing from the rear. Weighing the options, he sent a small scout party towards the canyon before jumping on a nearby speeder and ordering the main force towards the small outpost.

Oddball lay prone, occasionally shaking himself to dislodge the falling snow as the wind flapped around him. The first Rebel speeder bike materialised out of the storm and as another member of the squad shouted its arrival, he opened fire. The T-21 spat bolts of lasers towards the vehicle at an astonishing rate, some hissing harmlessly past, the vast majority striking home and shredding the vehicle apart. It exploded, instantly vaporising the two passengers, a shower of red hot molten slag raining down around the Imperial troops and melting in to the crisp white ground.

Gwynzer and Samzi both ducked at the sight of the fireball, feeling the ferocious heat wash over them, shrapnel bouncing harmlessly from the protective shield that cocooned them. The squad leader opened with rapid bursts of the Eweb as he caught sight of more and more Rebel soldiers advancing towards them.

“Deploy beacons!” he bellowed, struggling to be heard over the wind and the growing firefight, “I need positions on those Rebel scum!”

A Snowtrooper to the side of the outpost heard the command and rushed forward, the small beacon in his hand. Activating the small area scanner he threw it towards the enemy before retreating back towards cover. He didn’t see or hear the fragmentation grenade plop in to the snow behind him, the explosion carrying him high in to the air. His plastoid composite armour caught much of the blast, but the shockwave still penetrated through, rendered unconscious he was now badly exposed.

“Man down!” cried Oddball as he caught sight of the trooper flying through the air like a ragdoll. Samzi was already running towards the downed comrade, E11 carbine in his hands as he snapped off shots at the distant snow covered shapes. “Cheesebrained idiot.” huffed Oddball, hauling himself and the light repeating blaster from the snow then running forwards. The medic lay exposed before him, kneeling over the casualty while shots ran out around them. Oddball dropped to one knee and raised the T-21 to his sights, sending a storm of laser fire hurtling through the wind and snow towards the enemy.

Samzi helped the man struggle to his feet as he began to respond to the emergency treatment, “You’ll live,” he shouted over the noise around them, pulling the man back to the relative safety of the outposts imposing watchtower, “get up there and try to give some supporting fire.” The medic indicated the sheltered ladder to the towers upper level and the trooper nodded in understanding. Stumbling forwards he grasped it and began to make his way up, Samzi watched to ensure he was safe then made his way back to Gwynzer.

Gwynzer kept up the rapid bursts of energy that kicked out from the heavy blaster cannon, Rebel soldiers either ducking away as they caught sight of the gun, or falling victim to the high energy slugs as they ripped through bone and flesh. More speederbikes sounded in the distance and the Squad Leader called for another power generator as the one at his feet died, “I need ammo!”

High above on an overlooking mountain, a Rebel speeder bike tore through the snowstorm, it barely slowed as the rear passenger jumped off, his momentum sending him rolling through the powdery white dust. The sniper picked up the deadly Disrupter rifle that had been thrown clear and crept forwards, the Imperial outpost now lay sprawled below him. He checked the weapon, wiping the snow from the sights and satisfied himself with a grunt that the power cell was still charged. He dipped his head down to the weapons powerful scope and adjusted it, the distant Eweb gun emplacement filled his view. Holding his breath, he steadied the crosshairs over the head of the Imperial officer there, his finger tightening over the trigger as he took up first pressure, readying for the final shot.

Oblivious to the threat, Gwynzer kept up the barrage of fire as a support trooper ran forward, coupling another power generator to the powerful gun perched atop its tripod. Over to his left Oddball maintained a rigid fire and manoeuvre routine, retreating three or four steps then crouching and spitting a quick burst from his T-21. Gaining ground on the hill that rose from the ground behind the watchtower, he was able to easily pick out the Rebel ground forces as they kept up their tireless advance. 
Trooper 3001 rose as he completed coupling the power generator to the officer’s gun emplacement. The disrupter shot tore through his chest, the cold quickly sapping his strength as he dropped to his knees before keeling over inside the small protective bubble. Gwynzer threw himself to the floor as Samzi ran forward, checking the fallen troopers vital signs he looked at the squad leader and shook his head.

“Where’s the sniper?” gasped Gwynzer, frantically looking round for the source of the shot. Around them, the small personal shield seceded to the freezing temperatures and petered out, Rebel infantry fire kicking up the snow around them. The pair ran from the exposed position as another disrupter shot tore through the Eweb, destroying it in a localised fireball. Oddball tracked the shot and maintained a steady barrage of angry red light in the snipers direction as Rebel troopers began flooding around the feet of the tower.

Gurd hauled the speeder bike to a stop at the base of the Imperial building and dismounted, the battle grew in volume over the sound of the wind, laser fire and fragmentation blasts echoing from the sides of the towering hills and mountains. “Try to reach the top floor!”  He snapped to the Alliance soldiers as they ran past, “We have to take this area!”
He followed a trio of his fellow Rebels as they sprinted along the side of the building, barely pausing as they rounded the corner. Maybe if they had used more caution they might have survived, or perhaps over the sound of the howling gale they never would have heard constant bleep of the armed proximity mine. As it was, all four of the soldiers died instantly as the first trooper activated the deadly device, scattering them to the wind as they were engulfed by the explosion.

“I’ve got ammo here!” Called Gwynzer, his troops massing around him as power cells began to fade and more Rebels poured in. “Defend this position, don’t let them through!” He drew his DL-44 and fired at an Alliance soldier, surprised by the sudden sight of the small squad of Imperials, the shot hitting him square in the face. Over the screaming winds a new sound could be heard, resonating around the ice and snow came the incessant metallic clang of a walker as it’s feet struck against ice and rock.

Targ Th’Nar grinned manically from the Walkers narrow view ports as he came in sight of the battle. Rebels were starting to overcome the Imperial troops, who still fought on valiantly. Beside him, a concerned support trooper manned the secondary guns, convinced that should the Moff die then he would be forced to take the same course. Targ fired a volley of concussion grenades and cackled as half a dozen of the scum flew in to the air, the rest scattering in fear.

The Imperials spirits soared as the ATST began opening fire behind them, Rebels stopped in their tracks as the vehicles powerful cannons chewed through flesh or threw up clouds of vaporised snow. Oddball advanced first, firing the T-21 from his hip as he strode forward, buoyed by the presence of the striking grey harbinger of death.

Gwynzer towered over his troopers and bellowed at them as the Rebels began their retreat, “Kill them all!” He led the group as they advanced, coldly shooting the fleeing troops in the back as they marched onwards through the snow.

Gwynzer smiled coldly behind his helmet as they pushed through the storm, his line had held, they had proven their worth.

Athlon entered the Freerunner’s cramped compartment and secured the hatch as the vehicle picked up speed and moved forward. The problem with Bestine was that while it had a couple of wide main roads, much of the city was enclosed by narrow alleyways, walls and entrance archways. Getting directly to the crash site would be difficult and so Athlon had ordered the crew to a point between the area and the Imperials local outpost. From there he planned to use the APC’s rear gun to pin down any Storm Troopers while the Rebels secured The Dawning Star and treated any survivors.

Zaphod watched silently as the tank moved through the city road. Below him Rebel troops fanned through the back streets. The disrupter in his arms felt hot and heavy, and a bead of sweat made its way down his face. He blinked twice to remove some of the dust and glare from his eyes then took careful aim through the weapons scope. The Imperial outpost watchtower filled the view, two Stormtroopers clearly visible. One held a DLT-20 sniper rifle, not as powerful as Zaphod’s illegal disrupter, but just as accurate the other appeared to be carrying an E11.

He steadied his breathing, the sights coming to a stop over the target, and gently squeezed the weapons trigger. A deadly yellow beam emanated from the muzzle and the medic fell from his sights. Before the Imperial sniper had time to react Zaphod had already taken aim and fired again.

On the other side of the city Gwynzer looked up at the sound of a scream as the medic high above died, swiftly followed by the sniper. There was no point heading for the crash site now, the rebels were obviously already making their way through the city. Better to setup a defensive perimeter and prevent them making any more progress.

“Defend this position,” he ordered, “I have an Eweb covering the area, I need a power generator and personnel shield around it.” His troops grunted their affirmatives and set about their orders, taking up positions around the posts courtyard.

“Rebel tank spotted!” cried Samzi, jumping down from a wall just in time to avoid a streak of yellow disrupter fire. He was the squad medic and Gwynzers second in command, having saved the Captains life more times than anyone could remember.

“Looks like an APC Freerunner,” added the medic, ducking as another bolt of disrupter fire echoed through the courtyard and struck a trooper in the chest. He ran towards the unlucky victim who had managed to crawl to safety behind a set of crates. Samzi reached in to his medic pouch pulling out bacta dressings and painkillers.

“Guess I zagged when I should have zigged.” Gasped Blind as the cooling bacta patch began to do its job. Trooper 3001, he’d earned his name because of his somewhat oversized helmet which often slipped and obscured his view.

Gwynzer activated his sensor ping, checking that none of the enemy had breached his defensive perimeter.  All around him Stormtroopers stopped as they analysed the data readings that began to fill their helmets. A large sensor echo appeared as the scan located the rebels Freerunner, along with smaller echoes that indicated the emerging ground troops.

Athlon checked the Freerunner’s wide area sensor readings as his squad exited the vehicle. “What do you see Zaphy?” he asked over the com, jumping a small sand coloured wall, the heat searing his hand as he touched it.

“Two stormies down,” came the reply, “Eweb emplacement in the main courtyard and a lot of activity, looks like they’re getting ready for a little reception party.”

Darac ran towards Athlon, breathing heavily as he came to a stop, “Just got word that the crash site is secure. No survivors and detpacks have been placed on the remains of the ship, Imps won’t get anything from it now.”

The squad regrouped and made their way back through the narrow alleyways, dust and sand collecting around their feet and kicking up around them in clouds as they ran. The idling rumble of the Freerunners engines reached their ears as they rounded the final corner, just in time to catch sight of a stream of mortar bolts hit the tank.

“Down!” screamed Athlon, dropping to the floor as the inaccurate fire struck the tank and the surrounding ground. More dust kicked up around them as each member dropped to the floor and the deadly splashes of high impact energy thudded around them. One of the bolts struck an unwilling target, he didn’t even have time to call for help as his body was torn apart by the force.

Arjay Sativa waved his hand in front of his face, hoping to clear the thick could away from it. He could barely make out the shape of the Freerunner, yet he knew it was only a short distance away. “We’ve got to move it!” He shouted, struggling to be heard as more mortar bolts began to rain down around them.

“GO! GO! GO!” Shouted back Athlon, rising from the floor and running forward. He reached the tank in time to see Arjay jump in to the cockpit and rev up the engines, glancing back to make sure everyone was onboard. Athlon nodded at him and Arjay gunned it, the vehicle surging forwards away from danger, to add to the confusion he popped smoke flares from the vehicle, hoping to hide the escaping Rebels.

The Imperial space dock was located on the cliff’s that towered over the city, Trooper 815 made his way towards it. He planned to obtain the ATST Walker that had recently arrived there and add it to the Imperials arsenal ready for the inevitable battle. He could feel the effects of the sun on the walker’s metal exterior even through his suit, the heat easily penetrating as he made his way in to the cockpit.

He wasn’t a trained ATST driver, nor did he have orders to bring the fearsome weapons platform down but that wasn’t going to stop him. This was going to be his chance to show that he was worthy of something. A Dukat from the Hapes Cluster, an attempt to assassinate the ruling Queen Mother had led to the execution of many of his family members. He had barely escaped the sector alive, hoping to join the Imperial forces and make his way through the ranks to a position of power.

Gwynzer activated the sensor ping again, locating the Freerunner was critical to prevent the Rebels breaking through. It had to be destroyed. Heavy troopers armed with Proton Torpedo Launchers and Packard Mortar Guns rushed to new firing positions as its echo appeared. Rebel’s had already breached through two other squads of Imperial troops, Gwynzer was determined his would not fall as well.

“Take out that Freerunner!” He ordered, “Infantry deploy homing beacons and stay alert!” He took up position behind his Eweb emplacement as the Stormtroopers around him obeyed orders, throwing out the short range scanners in all directions. A rebel appeared from around a corner, jumping up to throw a fragmentation grenade in to the midst of the Troopers in the courtyard. Gwynzer pulled the trigger on the heavy Eweb blaster cannon, unleashing a stream of energy towards the Rebel who died instantly as the shots tore through him.

On board the Freerunner Athlon looked nervously at the sensor readout as the ATST appeared. “Arjay, man the gun, try to inflict as much damage as possible on that walker. Darac, grab the launcher and help him out, we’ll move in on the Imperial outpost.”

Arjay had already moved to the rear, opening up with volleys of red flashes, each one striking home on the walker as the rest of the team filed out. Darac found a low wall and took aim, sending a powerful rocket from the HH-15 flying towards the walker.

Trooper 815 jumped as the explosion rocked the machine, he could barely make out the rebel tank through the sparks and smoke that were filling the view port. Another impact from the HH-15 caused a number of system failures and he began sending out retorts from the ATST’s chin mounted twin blasters. The Troopers struggled to decide which target presented more of a threat. Warnings echoed all around him as more and more of the walkers systems began to shut down. His mind made up, he ignored the source of the rockets and concentrated on taking out the Rebels tank.

Arjay was taking his time, sending short sharp volleys to prevent overheating the Freerunners only form of offensive weaponry. In the heat of Tatooine it would be all too easy to be left with no way of returning fire. He wouldn’t be able to stay much longer though, the internal compartment was already filling with smoke as the Walkers fire began penetrating through the armour. He fired one last volley then jumped out, waving to Darac to show that he could do no more. Dropping smoke grenades to cover his retreat he made his way to Athlon and the rest of the squad down below.
Darac had two more rockets left and the walker had now turned its attention to him, the head swivelling round as it searched for him. He reloaded, and took a chance, poking his head above the small wall he took aim and fired.

Trooper 815 sent a blast of fire towards Darac at the instant the rocket left the launcher then tried to move out of its way, the blast echoing through the cockpit as a fire ignited inside. A piece of shrapnel penetrated his helmet, tearing a chunk from it and rendering it useless. The noxious fumes now began penetrating through, the flames licking around him, their fearsome heat burning his exposed head. He removed the helmet and reached up, frantically trying to open the access hatch as the Walkers systems screeched in protest. He hauled himself out, crying out in agony and dropping to the floor as Darac’s final rocket struck home. The ATST towering over the Stormtrooper exploded, raining burning hot metal around him.

Darac threw the now useless launcher to the floor and made contact with Athlon, “Walker is down, but we’ve lost the Freerunner.”

“Thanks,” he answered, as Arjay skidded to a stop beside him and nodded a greeting, “Zaphod, get back to the ship, see if you can get the other Freerunner unloaded.”

“Yes sir.” Replied the sniper, he chanced one last look through the Disrupter scope and sent a final shot towards an exposed Trooper, sending him tumbling backwards before making his way from the tower.

Samzi shook his head as he towered over the last recipient of Zaphods sniper fire. “I can’t do anything for this one,” he shouted over to Gwynzer, who was sending bursts of fire from the Eweb as more and more Rebels began pouring towards the outpost’s courtyard.

“We’re outnumbered!” called back Gwynzer as he relinquished control of the weapon, its supporting power generator dying under the heat and dust of its environment. “Pull back to the City Steppes!”

Athlon and Arjay rounded a corner just as the last of the Imperial troops disappeared from view. The dead and injured littered the area, some called out in agony, and Athlon surveyed the situation. “Medics, get in here and help those men! Set up a perimeter and let me know what’s going on out there.”

Arjay climbed the outpost’s watchtower and took out his macro binoculars, scanning the surrounding city. “Looks like the only way to those Turbo lasers is using that main road, I got the Boys in White setting up another defensive position on top of the hill….what the…..” He watched in horror at the scene unfolding before him…

“What happened here?” demanded Gwynzer, surveying the still smoking walker wreckage that towered above them.

“I…I brought it down to help,” began Trooper 815, wincing as Samzi dressed his wounds, “I destroyed the Freerunner…but rockets…”

“You are responsible for bringing our only ATST here, with no support?” Gwynzer asked, anger rising as the loss of his only heavy machinery struck home.

“Yes..well..no, I thought it would help, I didn’t know they were there..” stammered the Trooper, fear rising in his belly as the officer standing over him began to reach for his sidearm.

“The Emperor will be most displeased.” growled Gwynzer, taking aim and sending a beam of light to the soldier’s chest. “Leave him!” He snapped at Samzi as he returned the weapon to its holster. “We have bigger problems.”

The pilots of Hammer squadron were relaxing on board the Star Destroyer Tyrant as it cruised above the ice planet Hoth. Although dressed and alert for combat, Hammer Squadron wasn’t expecting to take much of a role in the battle raging on the planets surface, confident that the Tyrants turbo lasers would quickly dispatch any Rebel transports hoping to make safe their escape. 

As the pilots talked and joked over mugs of caf, one sat silently in a corner of the room, listening intently to the ship’s com as news of the battle was broadcast. A data pad sat on the table in front of him, cycling through various ship readouts of rebel star fighters. Twigs never left anything to chance, he was always checking ship layouts, battle recordings and sensor readings for anything that could help him find a weakness on the Rebels shielded craft.

“You ever stop?” asked Talon, taking his seat across the table and placing a steaming cup of caf in front of Twigs.

“Well I could, but then I’d have to drink more of this stuff, and you make a real bad caf!” replied Twigs, smiling as he lifted the cup and gingerly sniffed the contents. “Think we’ll get to see any action?”

“Doubtful, there’s enough SD’s in orbit to take out a system let alone a planet. You know Vader himself has taken command of this one? I think we’re finally going to put a stop to this little uprising.”

As the two settled back to talk the ship suddenly lurched, electrical systems failed and the room plunged in to darkness. Silence descended just as quickly, as the crew tried to work out what had happened. A crash echoed around as one pilot fell, a muttered curse quickly followed. A klaxon sounded for general emergency and the crew waited anxiously for more news.

“Get ready everyone,” called Talon, “We might get a chance to vape some rebels after all.”

“Probably just a malfunction,” replied Twigs, “intel showed no rebel weapons capable of attacking the Tyrant.”

“Yeah, and we all know how reliable intel is.” Called another voice from across the room, Talon recognised Oddball’s voice even in the darkness.

“Well if anyone knows what the intel reports say it’ll be Twigs.” he called back, “Thought you were trying to get on the surface with the ground pounders?”

“I keep trying, believe me. Tired of hanging with you stick jockeys.” Lieutenant Oddball was the only one in the room who wasn’t a TIE pilot, he was the Ground Liaison Officer, a link between the pilots and any Storm Troopers on a planetary surface who might call them in for assistance. He’d earned his name after a quick stint on one of the ships simulators had shown that he might as well have been inside a bouncing ball.

The ships emergency lights flickered to life as the standby generators kicked in, the emergency klaxon replaced by the pilots scramble siren. The pilots ran for their ships, pulling on helmets and life support systems as they quickly filed in to the Tyrants main hangar and made their way over the TIE gantries.

Even through the helmet Twigs thought he could detect the familiar smell of lubricant and coolant, something he always found relaxing and comforting. He lowered himself into the TIEs cockpit, a crewman above him securing the hatch as he efficiently cycled through the small ship’s power up sequence.

“….planetary ion fire,” crackled the com, “launch all fighters, all Tyrant systems are down.”

“All of them?” keyed back Talon.

“Affirmative sir,” replied the tinny voice of the hangar launch officer, “once you’re out there you’ll be on your own, we have no external ship communication, but we’re working on getting sensors back up.”

The first of the TIE fighters howled out of the hangar followed by TIE bombers.

“Hey Talon,” said Twigs, flicking the com switch as he waited his turn to exit.

“What’s up? Malfunction?”

“No no, why are the bombers launching? Won’t this just be a fighter patrol mission?”

“With the systems down I doubt it, we’re supposed to be patrolling for transports, with the Tyrant out of action and the rest of the battle group on the other side of the planet….”

“Gotcha,” keyed back Twigs, cutting off his superior officer as the fighter in front peeled out and he quickly followed.

The planet filled the view as Twigs peeled out from the hangar, turning sharply towards the rear of the Tyrant. The massive ship conveyed a sense of ease to the crew who called it home, while to many others throughout the galaxy it was something to be feared. Able to rain death from orbit and obliterate a planets surface it was a dark symbol of the Emperors rule of terror.

“Twigs, where are you going, rejoin the main force.” Talons voice crackled inside his helmet as the Star Destroyers engines came into view.

“We need to defend the turbo laser batteries sir,” he replied, pulling back on the stick and heading towards the bridge, “Until those systems come back up we’re defenceless.”

Talon weighed up his options, the TIE Fighter was a nimble craft, but against the heavier rebel fighters it needed every advantage it could get. As for the bombers, well they could cause a lot of damage but were just as susceptible, more so in fact if the rebels had armed their larger transport ships.

“Hammer Squadron, set patrol routes around the Tyrant, defend against rebel fighters. Let’s giver her every chance we can to get those turbo laser batteries back online. Shout out if you see rebel ships and watch your six.”

Even as the final words left his mouth the Tyrant began relaying sensor data to the squadron, its surface guns began scanning for targets and the ship’s communication officer regained contact with the pack of small star fighters.

“We have regained short range scanners and all guns are now active though our engines, hyper drive and long range communication systems are still out of action. We are relying on you Hammer Squadron to protect the Tyrant from further attack and prevent any Rebel from escaping. Lord Vader will be MOST aggrieved should you fail.”

“You heard the bridge,” barked Jim Walker, Commander of the Hammer pilots and the officer who would ultimately answer to the Sith Lord should they fail in their duties, “Pair off and stay alert. Primary objective is to protect the Tyrant, secondary objective is to attack rebel transports. Fighters are to escort bombers, stay alert and keep the com channels clear of idle chatter.”

The pilots keyed back a quick acknowledgement of orders, and then began to form up in their attack pairs, Twigs peeled round to search out his wingman.

“On your six Sir” he called to Talon, as the superior officer wiggled his wings in acknowledgement, before throttling back and waiting for Twigs to take the lead.

“You take lead this time…” he started before being cut off by red laser fire darting past his cockpit and striking the turbo lasers below him, throttling back had probably just saved his life.

“Sith spawn!” He spat, “Where did that come from?” A blip echoed in his ear’s as the Tyrants sensors relayed a Y-Wings position to the squadron, then another and another. Twigs fighter screamed past Talon as he throttled back up to stay behind his wingman.

“I still got you Twigs, looks like he’s above us.” Talon kept pace with Twigs who by now was making his turn in behind the Y-Wing, trying to take the heavy bomber from its blind side and avoid the powerful laser cannons.

Twigs could feel the surge of adrenaline as the excitement of getting another kill to his name began to enter his mind, he pushed it away and cleared his thoughts. He knew that getting carried away would lead to a quick death and he wasn’t quite ready to give his life for the Emperor. Just as he pulled behind the ship he jinked down, just in time to avoid the deadly arc of fire from the Y-Wings rear gunner. The red flashes were close enough to illuminate the inside of his cockpit, barely missing the fragile solar panels.

Talon followed Twigs down, watching as the pilot in front kicked in his rudder, spun round and arced back up, green light emerging from his laser cannons and striking against the Y-Wing. One struck the front of the ship, exiting from the cockpit a moment before the fighter exploded. Talon ducked instinctively to avoid the flash before following Twigs back round.

“Those Y-Wings are two seater variants, stay clear of the rear gunner!” Jim Walkers voice cut through the fire fight going on around Twigs and Talon. Even as they heard the words they watched as a fellow pilot was caught out, a solar panel cleaved by a rebel laser sending the ship spinning into the hull of the Tyrant.

The pair jinked in and out of fire as another Y-Wing flashed past towards the heavy turbo laser battery, Twigs fired off a shot followed quickly by Talon who had the better view and whose shot claimed the kill.

Talon glanced down at the remaining gun as the Y-Wings last rocket streaked towards it, impacted and sent a cloud of debris into the void of space as the gun exploded.

“Guns are down” he called across the squadron’s channel.

“Roger that,” replied Jim, “I’ve spotted a transport leaving the planet, escort the bombers.”

Twigs and Talon swung back round and screamed low over the hull of the Star Destroyer, heading towards the nose as the fleet of TIE Bombers emerged from underneath it. The faster fighters soon caught up and the pair settled behind, one each side of the slow, lumbering craft as the rebel transport came into view.

Three other sets of ships in the same formation were ahead of them, and the lead bomber illuminated blue as it began sending it’s payload towards the rebel ship. Laser fire erupted from the surface of the transport as the first bombs struck its hull and the TIE Bomber erupted as the bolts struck. Its escorting fighters peeled off and ducked in and out of the laser fire, sending streaks of furious green light in reply.

A group of X-Wings appeared from behind the rebel transport, which switched targets from the irritating smaller TIE Fighters and began concentrating fire on the line of bombers heading its way. The two TIE’s were unaware of the rebel fighters and quickly fell to their quad laser banks. The X-Wings turned back to their escort duties and headed towards the imperial ships attacking the old but venerable Gallofree transport.

Twigs and Talon broke off as well, giving their bomber a little more room to avoid the Gallofree guns and allowing them to avoid going head to head with the more durable shielded fighters.

The Gallofree was now buzzing with fighters and bombers, sending bolt after bolt streaking towards the bombers as they vied for position behind its engines, hoping to take advantage of its inherent weakness. Twigs and Talon darted between bombers and Gallofree bolts as they tried to distract the gunners and give their fellow pilots every chance to destroy the craft. Another TIE fighter streaked past Talons cockpit followed quickly by an X-Wing which had gained position behind it. He sent a burst of static towards Twigs, letting him know he was breaking off before swinging round to help the other fighter.

As he completed his turn he found himself in perfect position behind the X-Wing and sent a burst of lasers into its engines, resulting in a short explosion. The X-Wings intended target pulled up in relief and howled past Talon, just as a red lance flashed past. He pulled left realising he’d made the almost fatal mistake of flying straight a little too long, berating himself and searching out his wingman. As the Gallofree came into sight it burst apart and he pulled up again, trying to avoid the cloud of debris, a solitary bomb passing harmlessly through it.

As the flash dissipated, he caught sight of Twigs gaining advantage of the remaining X-Wing in a whirling dogfight, his final burst of fire striking the ships R2 unit before seeking out the cockpit and catching its pilot, the ship left smoking in space.

“Well done Hammer Squadron,” came Jim Walkers voice, “We got another transport coming in, let’s show those rebel scum what we got left.”

Blue swirling wisps of the hyper drive tunnel which enveloped  the body of the ship finally gave way to a myriad of of horizontal white lines, rapidly shortening to the white dots of the stars that formed them. A small brown speck now grew in the centre of the ships bridge window, growing in size until it completely filled the view from it. Blurred rich yellows and burnt golds gave way to to sharper outlines and geological features of the planet that now confronted the ship.

High above the desert planet the Imperial Star Destroyer "Allegiance" engages its ion engines and silently slips into stationary orbit. Tatooine now lays below, brightly lit and bleached by its twin suns, making the world a most inhospitable place to survive even for the most hardiest of creatures. Almost immediately, and with a sense of urgency, two craft emerge from the ships main hanger, a single Lambda shuttle slowly unfolds its main flight wings and proceeds to the planets surface closely followed by a modified cargo carrying Sentinel class lander. Both follow the same approach before the Sentinel peels away for a different destination on the surface below.

Athlon Antillies had arrived on Tatooine fourteen months earlier. Dispatched from the ISD "Devastator" as a member of the Imperial sand trooper unit "Desert Sands" Zeta Squadron. Its mission, under the leadership of Captain Mod Terrik, was to recover secret plans thought to have been jettisoned in an escape pod from a captured Rebel blockade runner. Following the search, and subsequent loss, of the two droids thought to be carrying the data, Desert Sands had remained on Tatooine. Its mission, given directly by Lord Vader himself, had been to begin the pacification campaign of Tatooine's citizens and the search, and extermination, of any Rebel cells along with anyone foolish enough to harbour them.

He now stood in the garrisons small briefing room at Mos Eisley as Lieutenant Zander rose from his desk.
"You've been assigned to Lieutenant Walker from the ISD Allegiance to help with a covert extraction mission over at Espa. They need someone who has a working knowledge of the area and can speak Huttese".
After fourteen months of leading various search and destroy missions at Mos Eisley and the surrounding settlements of Anchorhead and Bestine Athlon had become quite fluent in Huttese, the native language of many of Tatooine's inhabitants.
"Espa sir?" Athlon replied, he knew the small town well from previous missions "Its a pretty quiet settlement compared to many on Tatooine, what or who could possibly be of interest to high command there that would warrant the deployment of an ISD?" 
"That's really non of my, or your, concern trooper! Get yourself down to docking bay 25 ASAP, Lieutenant Walker will meet you their for a full briefing, Dismissed!"

    Drehg awoke slowly, at first only able to hear the sound of blasters ringing out all around him.  He then lifted his head seeing only the blurred vision of a turbolaser resting high on a hilltop.

    A harsh yell pierced the fog in his mind.

    “Get up soldier or your walking home, someone get a damn medic over hear!” came the voice of his commander Araiker. “You look horrible boy, but you need to get up and stay with the group.”

“What happened?”  Drehg moaned as the platoon’s medic began to check him over.

    “Some damn fool sent us straight over Bestine, the other transport managed to land but we took a couple heavy hits, I dragged your sorry hide to the pods, ” Araiker said. “ we managed to launch just as the transport’s shields failed.”

    “He’s taken only a minor hit to the head, I don’t envy the headache he’s surely got but he’ll be alright.” The medic reassured his commander.

    “Looks like your stuck fighting it out with us my boy.” Araiker jested.

    With a shaky stand and a nod of his head they headed for the rest of the group.  Coming out of the deep blackened trench left by the transport, they saw what remained of they’re platoon dug in at the edge of the city.  The sound of shot rang out almost as a never-ending tone.

    “Nice of you to rejoin the living Drehg,” a friend called out, “they’ve taken up some really nice positions in there boss, and if that turbolaser on the hill sights us, we’re bantha fodder.”

    “Those turbo’s are controlled by computer, just worry about the bucket heads in the city for now.” Yelled Araiker, “The other transports are attempting to take out the city defenses, right now we need to work our way back to them.”

    Just then a solid shot burned through one of the platoon members helmets, dropping him to the ground.  “Sniper on the turbolaser tower!” another yelled.  Drehg winced at the sign of the fallen comrade, but continued to send burst after burst of hot blaster fire towards the storm troopers taking refuge behind a low stone wall.

    A large explosion near the center of the dry city sent out a concussion of sand making it difficult to see. “Just got word, that was an enemy tank boys, looks like the others are faring well.”

    “Time to move up! Pop smoke!” small stick smoke grenades flew from the other troops, bursting into thick clouds of smoke between the rebel fighters and storm troopers.  “Go, go, go!” the whole group surged out from their cover sprinting to the left of their enemies position despite the heavy fire still penetrating the smoke screen.

Google  and such returns a million fuzzy ones.

This contest will involve three different aspects. The first aspect will be the creation of fan wallpaper or loading screens based on the First Strike mod. The second aspect will be a caption contest based on a given picture. The third aspect will be the creation of a forum signature. The rules are as follows:

Wallpaper Contest:

-The wallpaper must be at least 1024x960 in dimensions
-The wallpaper must contain one of the First Strike logos, found at http://firststrike.totalbf2.com/mod_links.php
-The wallpaper should feature only media relating to Star Wars (an obvious rule, but still)
-You may submit multiple wallpapers over the course of the contest, but may choose only one as your final product

Caption Contest:

-Keep it clean
-Only one caption entry per person, so make it count

Signature Contest:

-The signature must contain the words "First Strike"
-The signature should feature only media relating to Star Wars (an obvious rule, but still)
-You may submit multiple signature over the course of the contest, but may choose only one as your final product

The contest will run until March 31, at the end of which all material must be submitted to the devs for judging by creating a thread with your name in the Contest Forum with your final entry. This does not apply to the caption contest, as it will run in a thread of its own. Once all the entries are collected, the forum members may then vote on their favorite from each category. After the three favorites have been decided on, the team members will then decide on a single winner from one of these three favorites. After the team's votes have been tallied, a winner will be announced.

The prize for this contest is: http://www.cafepress.com/bffirststrike.42226182 (or, if you're a woman: http://www.cafepress.com/bffirststrike.42226185)

I would like to invite everyone to take part in this Design an Endor wallpaper contest !!

The guidelines are very simple.
Use the realm of Endor as your reference and create a cool wallpaper!

To give ya some ideas you could have a biker whizzing thru the forests or a group
of ewoks huddled round an AT-ST. The Wallpaper could be funny or serious up to you.

-The wallpaper must be at least 1024x768 in dimensions
-The wallpaper must contain one of the First Strike logos, found at
http://firststrike.totalbf2.com/mod_links.php
-The wallpaper should feature only media relating to Star Wars (an obvious rule, but still)
-You may submit multiple wallpapers over the course of the contest, but may choose only one as your final product.
- The wallpaper may contain some kind of caption, keep it clean please!!!

The winner of this contest will have their wallpaper
posted on the FS website as the first official wallpaper for First Strike
which will be released with the Alpha build.

Well good luck and I hope to see some cool wall-ies

3-dee (matt!)