If anything the meeting had impressed on Sha’tek was that the Rebellion had no spine for what this war would entail. They sat upon high pillars that refused to see the truth of the war they were becoming engaged in.

A war the likes of which they wanted to wage could not be won with a debilitating set of values. They would need to surrender what they had been taught before to learn the mindset needed for war. They needed to learn to learn that mercy was for the weak, and that one whom is truly strong could cripple this Empire.

He needed to SHOW them.

Sha’tek’s tail was curled up beneath him on the floor as he stared at the hologram floating before him. It was a map of the Onyxian Occupation Zone. It contained information of troop movement and deployment, courtesy of the contacts he made in the Black Nebula Legion, as well as places where the Empire had set up waypoints. Carefully Sha’tek began to piece together a plan.

Many mistakenly drew the conclusion Sha’tek was a mindless brute from his mannerisms but they were fools who didn’t understand Warriors. To be of the Deep Fangs was one of the greatest honours within the Shusugaunti and a place where ones strength would always be questioned. One had to learn quickly to always be strong, in everything they did, or their apparent weakness would bring them under question. Those were the ones that would die.

But to be a Warrior, one had to be smart as well. Quick witted enough to know the choices that could mean life or death. One with intelligence can see weaknesses another could not. Sha’tek was one of the best for he could keep up with the best, because if he couldn’t he would die.

But the beings in this galaxy cannot seem to grasp onto the concept. There are a select few exceptions, like some of the Mandalorians he had met, but they are few and far between. Most beings would not accept a challenge to their strength, nor would they respect a being for his might. Fear, yes, but there was rarely respect.

He intended to take advantage of this lack of comprehension and fear to wound the Empire. HE was going to make this Empire bleed, while these cowardly Rebels could not. HE would show them how one kills a giant with a blind eye.

And he would start in a place where chaos was on his side.

---------------------------------

Barry ‘Six-Fingers’ Millet was the fastest slicer this side of the core. Earned the name Six-Fingers after managing to crack an Imperial Database in less than twenty minutes. Unfortunately, it earned him an Empire’s Bounty for his head. Now, Six-Fingers was solid with slicing and altering data but he wasn’t too slick in the real world. When he finally got found out by some Trandoshan named Slag, he didn’t stand much of a chance of getting away.

Poor Six-Fingers thought he was about to be one life short, when something suddenly appeared. Uttered some shit about a challenge, then went to rip poor Slag’s head off. The weird part was, when the being was done he didn’t kill Six-Fingers. No, in fact he did the opposite.

The being said that Six-Fingers wasn’t worth his effort in killing, and was more valuable alive than dead. So, this creature (whatever the fuck it was) dropped him off on some backwater and with some clever slicing, Six-Fingers was back on the lam. But the thing that called himself ‘Sha’tek’ told him he’d call in the debt some day.

“Now that’s some bullshit if I ever heard one Six.” Said a rough guy with a neon green mohawk, some leather clothing, and a face full of metal. “Now, if you’re wanting to lie to me, at least say you fucking forgot the credits. We don’t care if some lizard man will be pissed at us.”

The small figure of Six-Fingers slowly moved back against a wall with a slight laugh to him. A small group of similarly dressed men surrounded the small lanky slicer. Clothes that may have once been dress pants and a clean shirt were scuffed and cut from the chase he had attempted. His brown hair was matted with dirt and sweat, and his face was slightly distorted from swelling where a punch had gotten him moments earlier.

“Please guys! You know that I can get you whatever you want! Just… just… don’t hurt me!” Six whimpered as began to frantically pat at the wall, hoping and praying that there was some kind of door or hole that’d magically appear. His luck just wasn’t that good.

“Now, if we just let you walk away, what the fuck kinda standard would that set? We’d have all kinds of people claiming they needed to live for the OTHER debts they couldn’t manage to pay off. It’d just be a damn crazy chain reaction! Everyone takes loans from everyone and then what?” The mohawked guy yelled as he made obnoxious gestures with his hands to try and emphasize his point.

“Uhm… everyone’d… be… happy?” Six-Fingers said vainly, with a meek attempt at a smile. The pipe the mohawked guy was holding slammed with a deafening ring against the wall.

“I’D BE FUCKING BROKE, BITCH!” The man shouted, causing the already mortified Six-Fingers to curl up against the wall. “Now look at you! Fucking scum. Tell you what? I donate what organs you have left when I’m done since you’re such a damn giving person.”

Six-Fingers prepared for the crushing blow as the mohawked guy raised his pipe, but it didn’t come. All that Six heard was a suddenly slicing sound. After a moment of stunned silence, Six opened his eyes to see the still agape mouth of the mohawked guy. The man’s expression was simply one of shock, as his eyes were fixed on the large metal spike sticking out of his chest.

As the mohawked guy slumped to the ground, from the shadows emerged a low growling. Slowly into the light came the behemoth of a being known simply as Sha’tek. His fins on edge, ready for combat as his pure yellow eyes stared about at the group gathered who were paused in equal parts fear and shock.

“Pathetic creatures.” Sha’tek uttered in a voice of utter disgust. “You think yourselves WORTHY to face me? Run back to your holes and dark places!”

With their leader dead, the now spineless mob broke off and ran. When Sha’tek was certain none of them would attempt anything foolish, his fins slowly returned to their normal state. Slowly he slithered forward and grabbed his Ssliath from the chest of the man, returning it to the sheathe upon his back.

“You… you saved me again!” Six-Fingers yelled with glee as he nearly jumped for joy. His happiness was suddenly cut short by a cold glare from Sha’tek, and took a gulp.

“As I told you before, I will have need of your services. Now you owe me your life twice-over and so it is time to pay in kind.” Sha’tek said simply, motioning for the man to follow him.

“Huh? Well, I need to grab some of my stuff first…” The man said, as he began to move in the other direction. But Sha’tek continued upon his path, without even casting a glance at the man. “Or maybe not…. Where are we going anyways?”

“Where I lead.” Sha’tek replied simply, and with a sigh the slicer had really no choice but to follow. After all, it was part of Six-Fingers system of belief to never piss off large lizard men that could rip him in two.

Generis, Onyx Sector
Imperial Occupation Zone


A breath of wind reached up from the street below, pushed forward and upward along the sloping steelen wall of the garrison-base until it reached the top; there it gathered with another gust and together they advanced, buffeting those caught in the crosswind inside. The large blood-red Imperial Standard with its Iron Eagle and broad black cross cracked as the wind animated it so. Clouds assembled above the four-sided base, blotting out the midday sun allowing those atop the prefabricated ramparts to stare up without any interruption from illumination their humanoid eyes could not handle. Artemis Bradford was pleased his eyes did not need to strain to look up at the panorama of greys and whites and blues that stretched on as far as he could see; to him the coming of a storm was not inclement, it was beautiful.


" A nice day, no?" asked Colonel Alazahr, commander of the 2nd Regiment, 832nd Imperial Infantry Division; as that unit was the grand total of all Imperial military forces on Generis, he was also garrison commander. He moved with a quick step common to younger officers, his energy never having slacked during fifteen years service to the Emperor. In each hand he brought a cup of caf which might have been steaming if the winds of the Capital City did not whisk it away into the vastness of the plains beyond.


Governor Bradford maintained his smile as he turned and accepted the offered cup, bringing it to his lips; only when the warmth spread after he swallowed did he realize his fingers were cold. He wiggled them and quickly hid the one not holding his 'liquid energy' in his great coat pocket. " It is a nice day, I just wish I would not have left my gloves in my chambers."


The pair of younger men, one a professional soldier the other a seasoned but still vigorous bureaucrat, stood in silence, looking out at the suburbs that surrounded the small city of Vengaris and the plains and fields and farms which sprawled out around it. Here and there a stray piece of farm equipment punctuated the undulating rows of grain and grass. Vengaris itself also seemed to sway with the winds, a few scant speeders and trucks viewable with the naked eye - it was devoid of the chaotic activity of a regular Imperial city. The Colonel noted not inaccurately that it was simply not 'Imperial-ized' yet.


" If you don't mind my asking, how did you get stationed here? Or this an ideal assignment for you? I mean it can go both ways for my men and I; we have no enemy fight, no disorder to quell, only boredom to combat."


Bradford kept smiling, sipping the last of his caf as he pieced together an answer the Army officer would understand. " It's a choice assignment for me, one I requested. Here we don't have to do as you say, we can go straight to rebuilding. There isn't much damage here allowing us to build schools and hospitals and show these peoples the light the Empire can bring. We can crush the cartels that stiffle the grain exports and bring more money to the people..." The Governor saw he was losing his audience and decided to stop his explanation. The soldier was just that, and had little interest in rebuilding a society and bringing it into the folds of the Emperor's citizenry. " We - I - have a difficult task: to make these people Imperial citizens. I came here for the challange and the opportunity. You?"


The young Colonel scowled and tossed his caf down over the railing, letting it splash on the steel wall, displeased that it had gotten cold. His reply was that of a Corporals before he turned and departed, content to wait until the chance to kill and conquer presented itself again.


" I go where I'm sent."


For the Governor, he turned away from the city and looked at the hamlet of farms and equipment sheds a few kilometers away, connected to civilization only by a thin earthen path. In the desolation of oppressed and lonely farms he saw opportunity, in the broad expanse of swaying fields and reeds he saw harmony. He saw on Generis his purpose, and his smile got larger. He turned and started to descend the ramparts, thinking all the while Here I can do something good.

The old freighter clunked and chugged as it came into Generis’ space. The ailing YT-450a was one of the grain transports from one of the nearby satellite systems that once held a loose allegiance with the Onyxian Commonwealth in exchange for food. Even with the Empire here and the Commonwealth gone, they wanted to carry out business as usual.

Well, that was until they found this creature and some human lurking in the one cargo hold. Old Bill tried to convince the pair of stowaways off the ship but ended up with a broken arm for his effort. The man tried to explain that all they needed was a ride to Generis and would mean no harm. They knew there’d be nothing in that hold because of a manifest they managed to get their hands on.

Well, the man paid well enough to get Bill to shut up at least, but none liked the look of that lizardly fellow. He just snarled and growled whenever any of the crew tried to get close to him. It was a damn unnerving trip. But finally, they made it.

On the console of the ship, a small light began to flash red. One of the crewmen on the small ship took a look at it, then to his captain. “We’ve got an Imperial Frigate signalling us, Rob.”

“Well, patch it through!” An old man said in an annoyed tone. He didn’t wear any fineries of command, but that’s because it was just a civilian vessel. All he wore to dignify him was a nice watch to show he made more money.

“This is Captain Robert Hucklebee of the Harvest Moon” The old spacer said when he heard the familiar click.

“This is the Imperial Frigate, Exacter.” Came a stern voice with the all too familiar accent of someone from the Core. “This planet is now under Imperial control, state your business or prepared to be detained.”

“Friendly bunch….” Hucklebee muttered to himself. “We’re a merchant ship, here to do trade in exchange for food stuffs. Check our records, because we have a landing pad reserved for this day in the week.”

There was a slight pause of silence as the Imperials confirmed the information. It was all standard-ish procedure. There was a part of Hucklebee’s soul that was worried that they just wouldn’t let them in, or that they wouldn’t respect their already made agreement. The spacer had no desire to pay that damn fee for that spot.

“You may pass. Obey the laws.” Was all that was said before the Imperials broke contact. Hucklebee snorted a bit. The Imperials had always been a bit uppity but even this was a bit more than usual. But despite any personal thought or concerns, the ship resumed its course towards Generis.

----------------------

“You know you’re crazy, right? And that I’m crazy for trying to help you?” Six-Fingers said as he was busy typing stuff into his datapad. He was frantically working on trying to access the Imperial Database to bring up information on the Imperial holdings on Generis. He had made himself a makeshift desk in the little hut Sha’tek had set up. The creature refused to stay in the city, not that Six could blame him since he’d stand out like a sore thumb.

“What the frell are you doing out here anyways? This is place is a backwater!” Six yelled as he waved his arms about. “I mean seriously! Did this guy piss you off or something?”

Sha’tek cast a cold gaze back to the hacker which immediately silenced his whining. “I have no reason to explain myself to you, whelp.” Growled Sha’tek to the man. “Simply do what you’re told.”

“That’s what you always say….” Six grumbled as he typed away, working on trying to find an open port or security breach to get into the system. “But, not that I’m not grateful for the two times you’ve saved my hide and all, I feel that someone of my exceptional talents is being wasted. Like, maybe if you tell me your plan I may be able to help you some more. Really, I doubt your knowledge of computers and that you may be just trying to do something without knowing all the angles.”

Sha’tek look at the hacker with a slight look of amusement. He made his way towards a pack and withdrew a small piece of parchment. Placing it on the ground, it appeared to have a list and some symbols upon it. Sha’tek began to decipher the alien script and language used on it. “My plan is simple. To infiltrate, kill, and spread fear. I have chosen this planet to start with because when I left to get you originally, this planet was unoccupied. Low population in comparison and without military facilities, thus unimportant. I knew when I arrived either we’d be before the occupation force, or when they were just arriving and setting up. We have it when we they are setting up, giving me a window to slaughter those needed.”

“All I need is for you to find out information I cannot. I need to know all you can tell me on the leader of the occupation force here.” Sha’tek said matter-of-factly, whisking up the piece of parchment and placing it back with his things. “And when you have that information, look for something useful in killing said people. What they spend their riches on, and their time doing. Those assigned to protect them, and those with access to him.”

“When you have that information, inform me. Until then, remember the times I’ve saved your life and how easily I can take it away if you loose your usefulness.” Sha’tek muttered as he slowly slinked away. “I hunt, and you had better have information before I return….”

-------------------------------

Sha’tek returned to the camp, with the remains in his maw. The large cat like creature was for the most part eviscerated. When Sha’tek got within the limits of the camp, he dropped the corpse to the ground and drew out a small blade and begins to work towards butchering what was left of the animal. Six gave a look over to Sha’tek and pressed a couple of buttons on his datapad.

“WELL. While you were out I was able to find out a couple of things about this planet’s new Imperial guests.” Six turned his datapad towards Sha’tek. “This is the new governor. An Artemis Bradford. Formerly in the army, didn’t get that far in rank and then decided to get into politics. Hasn’t achieved anything overly impressively in terms of his career. Was placed here as governor. Up to this point, he and his family are in residence in a mansion on… 293 Redridge Boulevard.”

“Guards?” Sha’tek asked with little emotion in his voice, far more interested in his work.

“Uhm… seems to be only four personal guards. I bet they think this place is pretty safe, huh?”

A small smile came onto Sha’tek’s lips as he was coiled there, as the gears began to turn in his head. This Governor would be cold by the time that morning came.

Vengaris traded day for night, light for darkness. Shadows danced in the streets and alleys, cast by those few who had business outside their homes and killed just as quickly as they'd been born. There were few clubs, few establishments which would contribute to a night life of any calibre, those in business were gathered only a block from the city police station. At the fringe of the city center where only a handful of buildings loomed over the rest drunks and party goers and revelers walked an uneasy path with police, detectives, and now the officers and men of the Imperial Army.


" It's a tidy little place, isn't it?" Governor Bradford asked, throwing a sideways glance out a ballroom window. His eyes traced down a few storeys into the streets below where the red and white lights of native police vehicle strobed away, its driver and passanger engaged in the noble art of citiation to one who had dared yell too loud.


" It certainly is better than an assignment could be. The people here don't exactly like us, nor do they hate us. They realize they've bene conquered and see us as just the latest in a line of governments. The fact that they are not Onyxians by birth merely amalgamated into that sector by virtue of decree I think has forestalled any upright opposition."


Bradford did up the final button on his tunic and smiled at Colonel Alazahr. The young man was competent, showing promise with his slightly political analysis of the situation at hand; that did not stop the Governor from realizing that competence came with an apathy that superceded objectivity and made him downright boring. He shook the musing from his head and tugged the purple sash roung his shoulder to a perfect fit. His white governor's tunic and green breeches were his work attire, but then this was a dress function. Pleased with his appearence, he left the Colonel alone in the dressing room and strode through some doors and up to a podium that had been set up for him. Those of the Generisien elite turned on the announcement of his presence and some clapped, others merely gave him the respect of silence.


Spotlights illuminated the governor with their rays, holocameras transmitted his likeness into every home on the planet that cared to watch, and even a few outside the system who had paid a much higher rate for expanded holo service. Gone was the smile from the Governor's face; he was the one who apathetic, impassive. He addressed the dinner guests in calm measured tones.


" You know who I am, and I assure you, I have been briefed on who you are. Many of you do not like me, others could not care. To all of you I represent the Empire - and I should. I have been named the Governor of Generis and my duty is to protect you. I will do that and more. My duty is make you Imperial citizens. That I will try to do - but it will not come easy. You must earn citizenship.


" Some of things you will appreciate, others you will not. And so let us dispense with the double talk. As of twenty minutes ago, Imperial soldiers closed the Vengaris General Hospital."


Inwardly, Bradford was pleased with himself. His lips were barely closed from that final statement when many began to hiss and cry in anger, while others in mute horror turned to others for confirmation that what had graced their ears was real and not a nightmare. The Governor enjoyed his moment as puppetmaster, for he had planned this.


" My soldiers..." He had to speak louder over the crowd. " My soldiers removed the patients and staff to quarters at the garrison base on the edge of the city. The hospital complex has been plagued with crime its security staff and the police cannot combat; the buildings are in a pitiful state of repair; equipment is old and some works poorly if at all. I have ordered a set of construction droids from Sector Command that arrive tomorrow evening. At that time the complex will be demolished and rebuilt. When the proper equipment has arrived to replace what is there now, the staff and patients will be returned to the complex. While the hospital is relocated to the garrison base and the temporary buildings being erected near it, its operations will continue and you will be free to visit as you like."


The Governor and Puppeteer smiled to himself a second time. He let his words hang in the air as he relished the sheepish looks on the faces of those who had booed him. They had expected the worst and been embarassed by their pessimism. There was no dispute that the new arrangements would be inconvenient - he had order Alazahr to relocate his motor pool and several mechanics shops to other areas - but it would be worth it. The public would now be forced to work with the Empire and the Empire would get to know the natives. Their manner might be brusque, but red tape was absent. The natives would see results.


Gloria Impierum, Generis. I will make you better and you will swear your loyalty. And all will be well without a shot fired. The Governor breathed and continued to outline his actions - those he had taken, and those he was about to take.

“So what do you think?” Six asked his reptilian commander as the Governor finished his speech. “Think he actually plans to do some good for this planet, or that it’s just some Imperial bullshit?”

“What does it matter?” Sha’tek asked with a slight shrug as he brought his bag over his shoulders. “We shall walk to a nearby farm. It shall take a couple of hours, but it shall avoid us any unwanted attention.”

“Wait, what? You’re bringing me along!?!” Six asked as he shot up. “Wait wait wait… I’m willing to crack the Imperial database, I’m willing to get some of the better Imperials killed, heck I’m even willing to follow you from planet to planet, but I am NOT going into a combat scenario!”

At this dissidence, Sha’tek swung around and grabbed the slicer in both hands. Sha’tek’s eyes were fill with a deep fury as he glared into Six’s who reflected only fear. With a snarling voice, Sha’tek roared at the young human.

“You DARE presume you have choice in this, whelp!?!” Sha’tek howled, the slicer’s face loosing all cool and expression. “You live and die where and when I tell you! You owe your life unto me twice over, and if you refuse to obey then I will simply strike you down and find a replacement!”

Sha’tek tossed aside the slicer, who hit the ground with a resounding thud. Sha’tek began to slither away, drawing his ssliath. He cast a quick gaze over his shoulder. “This Governor is doing some sort of rally tomorrow. You shall act as my scout. You shall act naturally, and you will not reveal that I am coming to swoop in and kill them.” Sha’tek grumbled, motioning for the slicer to follow. “And I would suggest not failing or it shall be both our heads.”

-------------------------

The small farm was in an idyllic place on the quiet world. With rolling hills, tall grain, and with a wooden farmhouse instead of the pre-fabricated structures that plagued modern architecture. The sunlight seemed to make the whole place come alive, with an energy all its own. The front yard was well kept, and today had a number of banners bearing the symbol of the New Order. A number of local farmers and peoples gathered here for a large occasion.

Some came out of interest, others came for curiosity, others still out of boredom, but there were two on the farm not there for any of these. They were here to let blood in this place. The idea sent a bit of a shiver up Six’s spine, who was just mingling with some of the locals. Gave the story of being an immigrant whom came with the Empire.

Six cast his gaze around the field. The Governor hadn’t arrived yet, but a couple of members of the local police force were there. The whole thing seemed pretty relaxed and without worry. Who’d think on such a beautiful day, at such a beautiful place, a monster like Sha’tek would strike?

“The Governor should be here soon…” Six muttered into his collar, and got a static-filled ear in response. He kept his expression as calm as he could. He just simply kept a passive gaze around the crowd and didn’t try to do anything to bring any attention to himself.

“-BZZT- Tell me when the Governor arrives and the size of the detachment and has with him.” Sha’tek muttered, and it was all that he said before the signal went dead again. It was at this moment, the quiet field was interrupted with the sharp sound of a pull of strings, and the beating of drums.

The Imperial March.

The Governor stepped from his limosuine to the fanfare befitting his rank and station as the ruler of Generies. When he arrived on the agrarian world boasting a capital city of barely a million and a few quasi-cities of a hundred thousand at best, thoughts of a supreme error on his part for actually reque4sting such a desolate command plagued him. His time looking out over undulating seas of waving grain had changed his mind; indeed, perhaps he would even call Generis home. A small ensemble was playing the Imperial March, a standard processional for all dignitaries, civil and military; they were doing their best and for an annexed people the rendition was beyond reproach. Bradford straightened his leather greatcoat and waved at the crowd of assembled farmers and planters and equipment operators.


" I don't like this," Colonel Alazahr stated blunted, exited the limosuine after the Governor and following closely on his heels. The young soldier had none of the genial nature his bureaucrat boss had cultivated; no, his face was dour and blank, a little strained even. The three or so hundred people gathered at this particular farm complex had been summoned by radio and broadcast network announcement mere hours ago, leaving no time to install proper security or even a perimeter - if the Governor had allowed one in the first place. " Your gambling with your life for a little popularity."


" Rubbish," was the only reply Bradford made as he smiled and nodded and people and shook a few hands of the brave denizens who stepped away from the blanket of the mob's anonymity. He ignored the musings of his garrison commander and went right on smiling as he mounted the platform erected for him. He looked out at the crowd and gave nods of appreciation to the dozen or so reporters who recorded everything and said nothing.


" People of Generis, a great day for us all. You're no doubt wondering why I've called you out here. Well, I promised changes to you and I'm delivering." The Governor stepped back and took a comlink from his pocket. Raising it to his lips he looked up into the midday clouds, his gaze dispersed among low hanging greys and dark-whites. " Progress?"


There was a crack of static over the amplifier as the comlink frequency crackled to life; the droid nearby took a moment to match harmonics and the static was gone. " (shhhh)..descending now. Break cloud cover in eight seconds. Seven, six..."


Looking with the Governor skyward, the press rotated their holocams and took a few long seconds to record the low ceiling of clouds that presaged the midday storm, only an hour away - at most - from loosing its rains on the region. Then a shape pierced the clouds, a long rectangular shape replete with claws and boxy protrusion from what one could safely assume was the front. A ship of some kind. Those of a rural world who had seen only the occassional freightor or tug that took their grain harvets from the spaceport into the heavens were clueless; Colonel Alazahr recognized immediately as an Incom G-17 Dropship, the kind used to bring the Emperor's soldiers down from the stars that they might conquer and vanquish. The cameras were now exclusively on it so they did not record for posterity the Colonel massaging a wound long since healed he had earned dropping 'hot' onto Paramell VII when a flak explosion had introduced the side of his skull to a bulkhead none too gently.


A gasp from the crowd spread as one became two, two became four, then four became seven. Seven dropships descended from the clouds and touched down amid a roar of whining repulsor lifts and de-powering drive engines. The ground shook as each boxy craft in turn sunk its landing claws into the soil and smashed a whole section of field under them. The Governor did not need to narrate when each craft seemed to hiss like some giant metal beetle as atmospheric seals popped and pressurized; landing ramps fell with a mighty thud to the ground. Rumbling was heard from inside and a few of those present ran for safety - the rest looked on in horror. Many knew, if the worst was coming, they would not be able to start their speeders before death embraced them. Instead, they looked on in rapt attention.


From the closest dropship emerged the first visitor. Some suspected an AT-AT, others repulsor tanks - both were wrong. The winds kicked up dust that gave the true greeting of Generis to a new white-painted Tam Elk Superharvester. The huge piece of equipment idled down the ramp and presented itself to view. The more experienced farmers went wide-eyed: that harvester cost more than a quarter of a million credits and was far superior to the outdated and barely-maintained TriIngrid units they had made due with long after they'd been outmoded elsewhere. Even the richest farmer of Generis couldn't afford such a piece, but here was one - no two! By the time ach dropship had retracted its ramp fourteen superharvesters faced the crowd. The men controlling them lined them up as if on parade - the precision with which wheels matched made the Colonel grin for the first time that day for he knew if no one else did those were Army drivers.


" Citizens of Generis, I must apologize. I had hoped to have thirty of these here by now but the last consignment of them was in a convoy attacked by pirates and lost. I ask you to accept these first as a gesture of things to come."


Bradford now had the attention of everyone, even those who listened only with their ears, their eyes refusing to turn away from the towering apparatus. " The first two I should like to present to Mr. Hans Frestold and his family. Their harvester is well - no offense - its a piece of dung. That monster over there "- Bradford pointed to the family's green TriIngrid unit whose rust was as prevalent as the matte green finish -" should have been phased out ten years ago but Mr. Frestold couldn't afford it. So, the Empire realizes that without the means to produce well, production suffers. Generis is a world that should be exporting much more than it is now and you should be bringing more of the profits in, not returning them back to the export companies' pockets to send for spare parts you shouldn't need..."


Bradford droned on to the crowd and received a few ovations from those not standing. Colonel Alazahr went back to stolid as quickly as a Wookiee sheds and scanned the crowd. All his years as a soldier told him inescapably - something wasn't right...

And suddenly in a flash, it all went horribly wrong. Literally.

It was a flash charge, a custom design of Sha’tek’s own making. It’s bright flash would render all whom gazed upon it blind for a short period of time. Even Sha’tek would be slightly blinded by the device, but he had several things the Imperials didn’t. Sha’tek knew where the Humans were, but they couldn’t say the same on him. He had an acute sense of smell. And Sha’tek had no problem getting his claws bloody.

It all happened in a flash, Sha’tek closed his eyes and looked away taking only partial effect. The crowd immediately broke into confused yelling and screams taking away any chance the humans had of getting off any clean shots. With a roar, Sha’tek charged with his ssliath at the ready. The large trident-like weapon poised to strike down today’s prey.

With a dive, Sha’tek cut into the first militiaman, driving the blade into his chest then whipping it to the side to throw the corpse at the second. Rushing, with fang, claw, and blade all working in unison. As he bit into the one, he thrust his weapon into another. It was a style unique to his world in this galaxy. It was the style of a culture of predators. Ruthless, bloodthirsty, but not without a style of grace to it.

The effects had almost worn off and the personal bodyguard of the Governor began to fire off shots. Sha’tek lifted the corpse of one of the militiamen into the way, and returned fire to the men who exposed themselves in order to protect their leader. The three-tips of his ssliath moved and came to a point, with deadly red bolts of energy being fired out of it.

The Governor was knocked over by one of his own bodyguard who had come in too close, and fallen backward hindering his leaders escape. The Governor landed with a thud and a groan. As Sha’tek slowly made his way towards him, the Governor began to make an effort to stand.

Pathetic.

Then suddenly, a bright crimson shot fired from the Governor’s side. A man in military uniform. A man who was at least smart enough to find cover before trying to engage a trained foe. Sha’tek attempted to veer away from the bolt, but it nicked his shoulder. If he was any lesser of a race, it might have hindered him, but his hide was thick. A small trickle of blood came from the room.

Sha’tek didn’t grimace, his eyes instead narrowed on the man who fired the shot. By the time the second one was to come, Sha’tek’s ssliath was lowered. Thanks to years of bounty hunting experience, Sha’tek was used to someone trying to get the jump on him and having to react quickly with your ‘trigger finger’ instead of the blade. With a flash, the Imperial was grabbing ahold of his hand and cursing in pain.

“Governor Bradford.” Sha’tek hissed as he made his way towards him, grabbing a secondary blade from its sheath upon his back. It was something that would be an arming sword by most standards for humans. He tossed the blade to Artemis’ feet.

Shusugaunti honour dictated that one should openly challenge a foe as a sign of respect. The Empire had time and again refused these challenges, with their superiors choosing to stand behind their soldiers instead. They chose cowardice. He wanted to know if an Imperial faced with life or death would still try the cowardly way out?

“I challenge you and you have no men to hide behind. Face me, or die where you stand.” Sha’tek said flatly, throwing his ssliath firmly into the ground. He would make this fight fair, and fight without a weapon. Maybe giving the Imperial advantage of iron over flesh would make this fight interesting?

“But… But why….” Bradford asked, looking at the still steaming corpses of his former bodyguard and at the eviscerated militiamen. “I came here to help… I’ve never done anything wrong… Why here? Why me?”

“Why should you care?” Sha’tek said without a single hint of emotion, beyond impatience. “You are faced with death. Will the why change it? You Humans always over think things. You have the now, and the only question that will change anything, is whether you die on your knees or on your feet.”

Almost reluctantly, Artemis Bradford reached down and grabbed the sword. He swung it about a couple of times to test the weight. And then for a moment, he stopped and just stood there for a bit, looking out over the planet. Sha’tek’s eyes narrowed on him impatiently. Was he trying to delay for some troops to get there? No. That was the look of a man who knew he was dead.

“I am ready.” The Governor said reluctantly. Bringing the blade up into a primitive stance. He obviously lacked any training in the blade. Truly a pity.

“Good.” Sha’tek’s gaze turned to the Imperial who was still nursing the wound inflicted on his hand. “And NO INTERFERRING!!!”

“Come.” Sha’tek said simply, with an even encouraging tint to his voice. Motioning slowly with his hand for the Governor to lay on, and open the combat.

Which the Governor did. He made a series of wild, and untrained swings. Sha’tek was able to call every swing from a mile away. Quickly and adeptly, Sha’tek dodged the thrusts and swings, batting away shots that he couldn’t otherwise escape. Sha’tek allowed the fight to continue for a bit, if no other reason than to at least let the Governor think he put in a good effort and didn’t die worthlessly.

Then in one swift motion, Sha’tek’s fist slammed down on the sword, knocking the blade into the dirt. Bring his tail around in a quick whip he knocked the Governor’s feet out from under him. Swiftly, Sha’tek fetched up the blade and held it to the Governor’s throat.

“For the Deep Fangs.” Sha’tek muttered, as he thrust the blade into the Governor’s throat. His eyes went wide with shock, as his body tried to desperately cope with the new piece of steel added to his oesophagus. Stuttering, his body failed and quickly the look of pain and panic faded from his eyes, to be replaced with the oblivion of death.

“You’ll never get away with this, monster.” The Imperial cursed as he stood there, a piece of fabric wrapped around his bloodied hand. Sha’tek’s gaze locked on the man’s eyes and quickly he charged over, grabbing him by the throat and hoisting him into the air.

“LISTEN AND LISTEN WELL, WHELP!” Sha’tek roared in the man’s face, who tried his best not to cringe under the enormous weight of Sha’tek’s voice. “Much as these machines harvest grain, so shall I harvest your Empire! You shall know FEAR. You shall know PAIN. And you SHALL know DEATH!”

Tossing the man aside like a toy, Sha’tek began to slither back towards the fields from whence he came. “Have your Empire leave this sector, or else I promise you that more blood will fall.”

The storm had not yet made itself over the farm called 3176 on maps of the province yet still thunder rolled across the plaisn, still lightning crashed, blinding eyes and deafening ears. The thunder though, was not the voice of the Gods - it was the smash of bodies to the dirt and scant slabs of ferrocrete that made a pad here and sidewalk there; the lightning was not the mortal form of the Gods thoughts but the flash of blaster fire.


Colonel Alazahr sniffed at the air, each breath making his nose wrinkle in disgust for the air was burnt with the hot fusilade of laser fire. The stench of death was all around. Try as he might, he found himself unable to grasp the reality of the situation; he lay there on the ground, tossed aside by the beast of a man, a thing barely human. He ignored the pain in his ribs and fought furiously to ignore the pain from his right hand for there was no hand anymore: he tried to remember just what went wrong. There was a moment when his instincts had kicked in and he had unbuttoned the clasp of his holster...then mayhem. A foul smelling wretch in a garb he could not recognize and a figure he had never seen burst froth from the crowd and hacked at the five men the city police force had detailed as security. In a moment they were dead, having fired too few rounds in too short a time for Alazahr to accept. He had crouched down and slid behind an amplifier casing, drawn his weapon and fired...


Yes, that is when it happened. The shot rang true for he saw it hit, he watched the beast make what he hoped was a grimace - then it had shot back. A well-aimed shot that had immolated his hand and sent what remained of his pistol towards the soft ground below. He fell to the surface in pain and clawed at his tunic, ripping off a piece in a quick sham of a turniquet. When he crawled around to find another pistol the monster had already killed the Governor, slicing him far more times than was neccessary. No sooner did he stand, ready to avenge, when the ebast was on him - there was no time to fire for the weapon had already been knocked from his grasp. Stinking like some sewer-dwelling vermin, the creature spoke with foul breath words that dared insult the Empire and the dead men sprawled about: Much as these machines harvest grain, so shall I harvest your Empire! You shall know FEAR. You shall know PAIN. And you SHALL know DEATH!


Alazahr rose with the strength he could muster and for the third time he located a pistol and trained it to where he thought the beast to be. He aimed but there was nothing there; he crouched and searched for another target. The creature was gone. All around, the sky had darkened as the storm finally arrived. The wind picked up, but only slightly so, and for the first rumble of thunder, the Colonel felt himself shudder. A gentle rain misted for several long seconds before it got harder and harder, pelting everything as far as the eye could sea. The two-meter tall grain plants swayed to and fro, ignorant of why their roots would soon turn blood to nutrients along with the water that made them so precious.


It was twenty minutes before a half dozen police vehicles and other emergency vehicles arrived, another ten before ten half-tracked armored personnel carriers and as many AT ST walkers arrived: all fanned out and searched the fields but nothing was found. In the pouring rain, bodies were covered and identified and the butcher's bill tallied. Five policemen dead, six civilians dead, two wounded, one Imperial Governor brutally murdered - cleaved was more accurate. One Imperial officer wounded. Colonel Alazahr winced when a medic removed his dressing and began pouring bacta on the problem; he pondered why. Artemis Bradford was the best thing to happen to Generis is a long time.


Again lightning crashed but this time the Colonel did not blink. He remembered what the creature had said: You are faced with death. With the why change it? You Humans always over think things. You have the now, and the only question that will change anything, is whether you die on your knees or on your feet. Things fell into cruel, cold perspective. Governor Bradford was not dead because he was hurt Generis, he was dead because he was an Imperial. Therefore the why did not matter. An Imperial official was dead - he would be avenged!

Onyx

Fifteen thousand sets of eyes gazed at the stage, scouring it for every detail that sense could take in. Perhaps it was because those fifteen thousand brains sought to visualize what the other senses were telling it, perhaps it was out of some sort of biological jealousy - the eyes were being neglected for the ears that registered every note high and low sang out with passion and grace. Those in the lower-priced seats had a much harder time seeing the female beauty on stage belting out the notes of an aria whose name even some of the affluent patrons could not pronounce without difficulty.


" What is she saying?"


The music was grand, coming from an orchestra pit recessed in the floor but at an angle to the rising tiers of seats on the floor, filling the hall with a brassy chorus that rose and fell like a wave on the rocks. Everyone was enjoying themselves - everyone, that is, except one man at whom the only unsun words in the place were directed. Try as he might to feel lifted beyond the minutae of duty and work, to forget his present and become lost in a time long forgotten, whisked away by the opera, the man seated next to him ruined it. A smart man, competent and loyal, Moff Graxor was an outstanding servant of the Empire - he was not, however, a patron of the arts.


Grand Admiral-Baron Telan Desaria sighed, and felt his escape slip away. Patience, Telan, patience. He does not know any better. The acting-governor of the Onyx Sector, known to the galaxy still as the Imperial Occupation Zone, steeled himself with the discipline his years and station afforded him. He bit back a cynical remark or snide quip and instead remembered the administrator to his left had probably not even been in the same city as Donna Bella La' Morte before, let alone the same building. " You remember the last act, yes, when Carlotta's sister killed the Count out of jealousy?"


Moff Graxor nodded his head in quiet confirmation. He had the Grand Admiral were the same age but came from drastically different backgrounds: Desaria was the son of an aristocratic officer who had retired to become the Third Boardmember of Kuat Drive Yards; Graxor's father was the Postmaster of a city with barely ten thousand inhabitants. The Grand Admiral had joined the service because of tradition, because it was the honourable thing to do; Graxor enlisted as an aide in the Political Kommissariat to escape the boredom of Mid-Rim life.


" Well, Carlotta is beside herself with grief for she loved the Count with all her heart. The song began with her lamentation. Now, do you remember a few moments ago when the music picked up in tempo and her words became more punctuated, more hasty? That was her deciding to avenge her lover by killing his killer."


" She's going to kill her sister?"


" You're catching on, Your Excellency."


Desaria watched comprehension dawn on the Moff's face, and he was pleased he had made the explanation as short as possible. But then he saw something else, the formation of another question. The Grand Admiral could have none of it and quickly returned his attention to the stage, cutting off the Moff before he could speak again. Whether the point was taken or not, Graxor relaxed into his seat and realized that silence was best.


Carlotta had made her call to arms, swearing vengeance on her sister, her blood. She screamed in agony, knowing what she must do but feeling the hurt all the same; her tone lowered to a flat, ominous one and her pitch dropped down the the lower registers of an alto's abilities. She sang out and planned the elimination of her sister. Grand Admiral Desaria enjoyed this part of the opera and tuned in to relax once more. He closed his eyes for a moment then heard movement behind him. At first he assumed the Moff was getting up - again - to evacuate, but saw four men in suits rushing into the observation box. The Baron did not recognize them at first but did recognize the bulge that a concealed large-bore blaster pistol made inside of a tuxedo jacket. They were the plain-clothes men of the security detail assigned to him and they did not look happy. In the span of an instant they were on the Grand Admiral, grabbing him and pulling him back. Suprise was total and resistance minimal. Two of them, the larger pair, secured the acting-governor and rushed him into the hall way, the other two now totting the weapons previously concealed.


" Unhand me!"


" Sir, stop resisting and come with us!" came the reply from the guard on the left, pushing people from his way as he pulled and dragged. A whole host of local constables, Army soldiers, and Civil Defense Force officers was now evident, some in plain clothes, others in dress uniforms - all with concerned looks on their faces. They pushed people from their path who did not clear in time, pistols and small assault weapons at the ready. Ready for what, Desaria did not know.


Downstairs along the road entrance to the opera house the Grand Admiral was rushed out and put inside of a repulsor limo. Before the door latched, Moff Graxor was placed inside as well, both men a bit stunned by the hurried and unexpected exit. Another man, a large framed figure who looked decidedly out of place in the dress uniform of a Lieutenant in the Imperial Navy, got in and secured the door. The limo rushed off, armored speeders ahead and behind, sirens blaring all the while.


" Malek, what the hell is going on!" demanded the Grand Admiral of his longtime bodyguard.


" Sir, Governor Bradford on Generis was murdered an hour ago. As soon as Intelligence received confirmation of the assasination they feared it was an internal movement to eliminate all high-ranking officers in Onyx."


Grand Admiral Desaria sat up, adjusting the Imperial Cross at his neck. The limo rushed off into the Onyxian night, sirens the only sounds in the passenger compartment.

It was two days since the event. Since then, they’d been in the forest planning their next move.

Well, less planning, and more Sha’tek telling the slicer what he needed to get done. The creature wanted him to get access to the flight database so they can make a get away for another world. It wasn’t exactly something easy that he could get done in a couple of days, with the planet on lockdown and all. But Six was more concerned about his own well-being in comparison to everything else.

Sha’tek had made sure to enforce that fact that any failure or betrayal would result in the death of said betrayer.

Six knelt over the datapad, grumbling to himself as he frantically typed away. “So, I’ve got to wonder, what the Hell do you care?” Six asked, drawing an irritated gaze from his reptilian companion. “Like, don’t get me wrong but you don’t seem to give a mynock’s ass about the galaxy, so why are you going through so much trouble to try and fight the Empire? Like, I hear of a lot of rebel cells out there that want to take the Empire down, especially in these parts. But you don’t strike me as the type to care about that kinda thing.”

Sha’tek gave something that could be best interpreted as a laugh. His gaze settling coldly upon the small human who felt all the more tiny from it. “You wonder for you have no sense of honour, human. Or else you’d know.”

“And what would I know? That you’re willing to cut you way through everyone without a thought but pause to embarrass their governor?” Six sarcastically spat out as he sliced away, casting only a quick gaze to his controller.

“I gave him the chance for HONOUR.” Sha’tek growled, keeping his pitch in check in case there was a nearby patrol he hadn’t known of. “I let him know his worth to fight me in single combat. Few in the galaxy have the privilege to say they were cut down by Shusugaunti steel, and skill. Just because the Empire insulted my clan does not mean I do not respect the strength they have garnered through the right of conquest.”

“Insult your clan? What the frell are you talking about?” Six asked, as he suddenly raised his head from his work as a genuine curiosity. Suddenly Sha’tek’s eyes turned to that of a sharp anger.

“Who said you could stop working!?! If you think your questions are more important than what I have told you to do then I shall simply cut out your tongue!” Sha’tek hissed, as he brought his blade up to face at the young slicer whom immediately resumed typing. Six knew that Sha’tek needed him to crack data systems, but Sha’tek was right that he didn’t need a tongue to do that.

“Since I have little else to do with my time, I shall indulge your curiosity.” Sha’tek grumbled, as he looked out dully onto the wooded landscape they’d been hiding in for the past couple of days. “The Empire believes humans are superior to other species. The thought is rooted from years of preaching. They believe themselves greater than all other beings. INCLUDING myself and my clan! They dare think they can declare themselves our better without challenging our warriors to combat!?!”

“I come to prove to them they are WEAK. PATHETIC. That they are the prey.” Sha’tek murmured, narrowing his eyes as he gazed out across the forest. He sniffed at the air, taking the scent of something foolish enough to come from upwind. It smelt of plastics.

An Imperial patrol.

“Enough with talking, they are now closing in on us. We must leave this world.” Sha’tek said flatly, beginning to hide the signs they’d had an encampment there. He did have to admit, he had learned much in his life as a blade for hire he hadn’t known before. Survival above the waves was a largely new thing for him, and he had to catch on quick or die. It was the best learning environment for a true Shusugaunti.

Keeping downwind of his foes on instinct, Sha’tek lead his follower through the woodlands. It was a long walk to their destination through forests and rivers and fields, but finally they came upon what Sha’tek was looking for. It was an old farmhouse, that seemed to be for the better part abandoned save for rats and birds.

He crossed the non-maintained field, and came to the dilapidated barn. Six seemed a bit more on edge than normal, but Sha’tek shrugged off the man’s pointless fear. Environments never caused a Shusugaunti to get angsty, even if it was a graveyard riddled with the dead. At least a true Shusugaunti. With a slight bit of effort, the rusted doors opened.

With a flutter, several birds shot out the open door. Before them lay a variety of old utensils, but also something newer. Grabbing ahold of a tarp, Sha’tek ripped it away to reveal an older hovercraft. A large pick-up.

“You will drive, I will be in the back beneath this crop. You shall take me to the Spaceport. To docking pad number nine.” Sha’tek said flatly, as he got in the back of the truck. There were some bails of golden hay back there, with some work, Sha’tek buried himself. “If you are stopped by a patrol, hand them the ID in the glove compartment. And do not forget about the communicator and that it IS a communicator.”

“But… how…?” Six fumbled as he got into the driver’s seat of the vehicle and fetched the key.

“Do you think you are the only being that owes me debts? Or that I chose this planet and this time out of coincidence?” Sha’tek poised to the human, who gave him only silence as a response. “If I were foolish, I would already be dead.”

With a whir, the vehicle kicked to life. The gamble was that with so little of a garrison, and with so many places to hide, combined with the docile population that the Empire would put light garrisons once the cities were swept so they could sweep the country-side.

But really, the real threat was the one that was just under your nose. The one that worked within the system, not without. And that was really the trick, wasn’t it? For a being as unique as Sha’tek to slip in right in front of them and within the bounds of their system. It was why Sha’tek had to learn to gather debts. His culture didn’t value wealth, so he found it easy to surrender coin in exchange for things that money could never get him.

Like a man who seemed so run of the mill, that an Imperial Patrol would never suspect him of evil. A man that looked just like everyone else. More importantly, a man who was capable of slicing systems with this dangerous asset. Sha’tek would never tell Six this, but he was one of the most powerful assets a being in this galaxy could ask for.

Six was better off without an ego.

After a couple of stops by Imperial patrols, the pair had made their way to the Spaceport. It was under heavy watch and now was where things got tricky. It would seem very suspicious for Sha’tek to go shooting across the dock.

“-BZZT- Open on the empty cargo container, and drive the truck in. The code is A104195 –BZZT-” Sha’tek muttered into the communicator.

“-BZZT- What? How do you know that? –BZZT-” Six demanded of the Shusugaunti. He was impressed by Sha’tek having all these things set up, but this was a bit too out of the ordinary.

“-BZZT- You still ask questions. What did I tell you about me doing all these things for a reason? Do you not recognize this ship? This is the ship we arrived on. I chose it because someone who owed me a debt sold the ship to them at a cheap price. –BZZT-” Sha’tek scorned the slicer. Six merely just paused, perplexed for a moment on the complexity of Sha’tek’s plan.

After a slight pause, the truck pulled forward and raised a bit as it entered the cargo hold. Once the old metal doors came to a close, Sha’tek jumped out of the bails and shook, his scales shifting slightly at the unpleasantness of it. He still hadn’t gotten used to the scratchy crop humans grew.

“Shit! That actually worked!” Six cheered as he stepped out of the vehicle, relief all along his face. He couldn’t believe what had just happened and that the crazy plan worked. Sha’tek merely grabbed his Ssliath and headed into the vessel through the cargo door, and then heard a sickening thud. Six’s colour immediately vanished again as he came out into the hall to see a human land to the ground in a pool of his own blood, as his head rolled off the top of Sha’tek blade.

“WHAT THE FUCK!?!” Six yelled as he looked at the corpse and back to Sha’tek. “I mean… what? WHY?”

“They wouldn’t fly us knowing they had a criminal like me in their ship. The crew is more of a liability.” Sha’tek said as he flicked the blood off his blade. “If they are dead, they cannot report their missing ship. And since you seem to be useful enough for my purposes, I will proceed with my mission.”

“I… I…” Six muttered as he looked at the body of one of the members of the crew of the Harvest Moon. He had done bad things, but he had always been away from where Sha’tek killed. This was one of the first times he had seen an innocent man cut down who had done nothing more than get in the way.

“Get to work changing the database. We shall leave this planet within the hour. Our destination is Desitus.” Sha’tek stated without emotion or caring, proceeding to cleanse this ship of the rest of the crew would be put to the blade. He couldn’t risk them reporting him and ending his mission yet. He had so much more Imperial blood to spill!