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Chapter Text

I dedicate this TL to the men and women of the Second World War. From those on the homefront to those who fought on the various theaters across the world. May we never forget their actions, and those who made the ultimate sacrifice to bring about a better world. Let us continue to honor them, and those who continue their legacies.

  - - - - -

I also dedicate this TL to the many Star Wars alumni who are no longer with us, for they brought to life a galaxy far, far away. May the Force be with them all.

Alex McCrindle (General Jan Dodonna) 20th April 1990

Peter Cushing (Grand Moff Tarkin) 11th August 1994

Alec Guinness (Obi-Wan Kenobi; Original Trilogy) 5th August 2000

Christopher Lee (Count Dooku; Attack of the Clones; Revenge of the Sith) 7th June 2015

Drewe Henley (Red Leader in ANH) 14th February 2016

Eric Bauersfeld (Admiral Ackbar) 3rd April 2016

Kennie Baker (R2D2) 13th August 2016

Carrie Fisher (Princess Leia) 27th December 2016

October 14, 1944
Herrlingen, Germany



Field Marshal Erwin Rommel knelt in the woods, after being left alone by Generals Wilhelm Burgdorf, Ernst Maisel, and SS Master Sergeant Heinrich Doose. In his hand, he held a cyanide pill that would end his life, but ensure the safety of his wife and son. He thought back to all the years he had spent in service of Germany. From the Great War under Kaiser Wilhelm to the Greater German Reich under Adolf Hitler.

He snorted at the thought of the Austrian Corporal. He knew that Hitler was a madman from the beginning, from his spewing of hate about “inferior” races to his fascination with the occult. All of the years where he was loyal to him, but he supposed that his luck had finally run out. He had disobeyed his Führer’s orders many times, from protecting Jews in France to honoring POWs he had captured during his time with the Afrika Korps, but Hitler had never tried to remove him from his position. He was too important to be removed from command. That Changed with the plot to assassinate the Führer. Rommel had known that there were those in the General Staff who planned on overthrowing Hitler to call a ceasefire with the Western Allies, but he never considered being part of it. Hitler was the leader of Germany, and for better or worse, Germany was his country and he owed his loyalty to the Fatherland.

Had he known that it would result in the death of himself and the threatening of his wife and child, he may have considered joining them, but he had been too much of a patriot to do it. He had the word of General Burgdorf that his wife and son would be taken care of, but when it came to Hitler, one could never be sure. He thought about all of the choices he had made throughout the war and said, “Would I have done anything differently?”

He shrugged thinking to himself, I probably would.

“Good-bye, Lucia, Manfred,” he said to himself. “I pray that you survive the madness that I have left behind.” With those last words, he popped the cyanide pill into his mouth and bit into it.

Five minutes later General Burgdorf looked back to see Rommel was slumped over, having taken the cyanide pill. He and the others grabbed the body and placed it in the car and drove back to the village to phone Rommel's wife to inform her of his death.

Rommel woke up with a gasp. He was on a bed, but not one could be from any house he knows of. As his vision began to focus, he saw how white and clean the room looked, and it had a peculiar smell. One of disinfectant and other chemicals.

Must be in some sort of medical station, he thought to himself. Did the cyanide not work? Was I brought back to life? Questions began to run through his head. Was the SS holding him, or was this some sort of Allied operation? Before he could answer any of them, the door to his room opened, but not like a normal door. This one slid open, and in came a grey-colored robot. “I am pleased to see that you are awake, General.” It said in a mechanical voice. “For a while be believed that you might not survive.”

Rommel just stared in shock at what had just spoken with him. “Where am I?” was all Rommel managed to say.

“You are aboard the medical frigate HMS Loch Fada,” the robot replied. “You were lucky. When your ship was attacked, the compartment you were in was exposed to space and…”

Rommel listened with only half an ear. It was all so much to take in. He was on board a British vessel, and what exactly did this contraption mean by “exposed to space”? All this meant that the cyanide pill didn’t kill him, but what did that mean for his wife and son? The robot didn’t seem to notice that he had been ignoring him and would have continued until he heard it say, “Your wife and son are also here to see you as well.”

That caused him to look up at the machine and said, “Send them in please.”

“Of course, General,” it replied. It opened the door and in came his wife Lucia and son Manfred.

He was shocked to see them there with him, but he didn’t care. To see them here instead of in the hands of the Gestapo lifted a weight off of his shoulders. “It is good to see that the both of you are safe,” he finally said. He wanted to ask more, but he didn’t know where to begin. “Do you know where we are heading?”

His wife answered, “We are heading to the Albion System, to get us as far away from the Reich as possible.”

“I don’t think we want to have the SS coming after us, especially since you defected to the Allies,” he son said.

Defected to the Allies? he thought to himself. Obviously his final thoughts had resulted in something happening, but he wasn’t sure if all of this was real. He assumed that everything would reveal itself in time. For the moment, he was just glad to have his wife and son with him.

Chapter Text

THE SECOND TERRAN SECTOR WAR

^(Cinematic Introduction)^

War! The Clone Wars have begun, with countless systems seceding from the Galactic Republic and creating the Confederacy of Independent Systems. Now both sides fight for control of the galaxy as numerous sectors are dragged into the conflict.


Mired in their own war, the Terran Sector serves as the gateway between the Mid and Outer Rim on the Hydian Way and is split between the Allied and Axis Powers.


Comprised of the Getov Reich, Norian Empire and Katanian Empire, the Axis have joined the Confederacy, seeking to conquer the sector and expand into the rest of the galaxy.


The Allies, consisting of the United Systems, United Kingdom, Rarus Federation, Republic of Kunia and countless others, stand united with the Republic against the Axis.


Now, the fate of the sector hangs in the balance, as whoever controls the sector, could possibly alter the path of the Clone Wars...

***

Year 13, Month 05, Day 09
London, Albion System
The United Kingdom of Albion


Erwin Rommel sat in the assigned housing that had been given to himself and his family. Being in another city called London, which was on another planet was new to him. During his time recovering, he spent as much time as possible looking through what he learned was called the HoloNet and was surprised that he was in a spacefaring era. Not only that, but the entire galaxy seemed to be inhabited by various human civilization, and hundreds of alien civilizations as well. Seeing a few in the building he lived in shocked him a few times but after a while, he learned that many of them were very likeable. Hell, his son was friends with a few of them already.

That was a relief for him, to see his son acting like a young person instead of having the war try and pull him in. He remembered, back on Earth, how Manfred had considered joining the Hitler Youth, but he quickly talked him out of that and instead got him to help the Luftwaffe. Here in London, he could be a teenager again and not have to worry too much about the war.

He looked over at the screen that he had been spending several hours a day looking though and learned many things while going through the HoloNet, like the region of the galaxy he was in was called the Terran Sector, and from what he was able to research, it was very similar to how Earth was before he left, down to the war and sides that were fighting the conflict. Much of what he read was an almost mirror image to what had happened on Earth, except some things seem to not have happened yet. Making comparison from what he could remember to events that were currently happening, he estimated that the year would be around early-to-mid-1943, give or take a few months. It seemed that the Second Great War was being fought again, but this time in space.

He learned that war wasn’t only limited to the sector that was he in. It turned out that the whole galaxy was on the verge of a conflict. The Galactic Republic was facing a secessionist crisis with many systems planning on leaving a republic that had supposedly stood for over a thousand years, claiming that it was filled with corruption and cared little for systems that were beyond the inner regions of the galaxy. Many were expecting war, but there were still those in the Republic Senate who were calling for a diplomatic end to the crisis. While the Terran War had started years before, he knew that if war came to the galaxy, that it would come to the Terran Sector, due to it being on a key hyperspace lane, which learned were the equivalent to sea lanes.

He stood up and rubbed his eyes, wanting to take a break from his reading. He stretched, hearing a few pops the relieved parts of his back, and walked over to look out the window. The city was so big and futuristic looking, but he could also see traces of what he recognized as European. He could see flying vehicles that were no doubt this galaxy’s version of the automobile, and he even saw what he assumed to be fighters flying overhead, with the British roundel on the wings and fuselage. He heard that enemy vessels still arrived within the system to conduct raids, but Allied efforts had begun to reduce their capabilities.

So many wonders, he thought to himself. I wonder if this is what Earth would be like a hundred years after I had left… He pushed such thoughts away. He was here as a defector, one from Getov, this galaxy’s version of Nazi Germany, and was treated with suspicion by his hosts, the United Kingdoms of Albion. He swore he recognized a few of them, but wasn’t sure he eyes were playing tricks on him until he saw an image of the Prime Minister. He looked exactly like Winston Churchill, down to the name and his speeches he gave.

He heard the door open behind him and looked to see his wife walking in. Seeing her here was a blessing and made this new world easier to bear.

“I managed to get a few things at the market,” she said, setting the bags of the counter. “Rationing is difficult, but I was able to gather the things needed so that we could have some of your favorite foods tonight.”

Rommel smiled. “That sounds wonderful.” He turns to look back outside at the skyline and sees his wife join him.

“Are you alright?” she asked as she slipped her arm into his, concern slipping into her voice. “You’ve been distant since we left Getov.”

“I’m just…on edge I suppose,” he said with a sigh. “I’m having a little trouble adjusting to everything that has happened.”

“I know, Erwin,” placing her other hand on his arm. “Ever since you were defeated in the Afrikana Region, the Fuhrur blamed you for losing that area to the Allies. You told me he was considering making an example of you and that was when you decided it was best to leave to avoid the SS.”

Rommel nodded. She had recounted the whole series of events to him after he had awoken, explaining that the exposure to space had affected him. He had then spent the last couple of weeks being debriefed by Albion Intelligence. It seemed that this Hitler was just as crazy as the last, and if history was any judge, was just as determined to bring his people down with him into hell. Well, he’d be damned before he would allow that to happen again. “Lucie, I’m…” He paused, unsure how his wife would take what he was about to say. It was something that he had considered for the past week since he was essentially done with his question and learned the state of the war, but he was worried that his wife would not accept his decision on the matter. “I’m thinking of asking the Allies to join them in fighting against Getov.”

His wife looked as him with surprise, taking a step back as if she can’t believe what she is hearing. “You can’t be serious! If you ever get caught by Getov they’ll kill you for treason. We risked everything to get away from the Gestapo and then we have been treated with suspicion since our arrival here. Did you even think what your son or me would do if anything happened to you?” She began to hold herself and start to cry. “I…I don’t want to lose you.”

Rommel wraps his arms around his wife, trying to comfort her. “I don’t want to either, but I have to. I’m one of the best field commanders here, and with my knowledge of their tactics, they’ll ask me to join them anyway.” He tilts her chin up and looks at her. “Besides, I can’t allow that madman of a corporal drag our home into the abyss. I need to do this.”

Lucia sniffed, and Rommel takes out a handkerchief and give it to her. “I don’t want you to. I think you are making a foolish decision, but I know better than to try and stop you. If you really have to, then I’ll support your decision. Just promise me that you’ll message me every day?”

Rommel smiles, wiping away the tears from her face and admiring just how beautiful she is. “I give you my word that I will.”

Chapter Text

Year 13, Month 05, Day 20
En route to the War Ministry
London, Albion System


The ride to the War Ministry was too quiet for Rommel. The driver and two guards in the transport with him just sat and either concentrating on the traffic or on himself. Being requested to meet with the War Ministry was expected, with his knowledge of tactics for Getov and being a former Field Marshal made him useful. He also wanted to return to the field. Being with his family was nice, and something that he enjoyed, especially considering the conditions of his family back on Earth, but leading an army was where he belonged.

He looked out the window to see the War Ministry building in the distance. It looked similar to the building back on Earth, but more futuristic. Seeing the British General Staff and, from what he had heard, the Prime Minister himself would be a Chiange of pace for him, even if he wasn’t sure what to fully expect. There, he would request for a formal commission in the Allied military. He took another look at the building and wondered what sort of security it was capable of if the capital ever came under attack.

Arriving at the building, he was brought in, run through a scanner making sure he wasn’t armed, and escorted to a room where he would wait until called upon. He hated it. It made him feel nervous about everything that was going on. Pacing around the room and trying to occupy his mind by looking at some of the paintings around the room. He was taking a closer look at a particular one of some noble he had never heard of when he felt the building shake.

Wondering what it was, he stuck his head out of the door and saw one of his guards readying his rifle. “What’s happening?” he asked.

“We’re under attack,” the guard replied. “Looks like a commando raid by the sounds of it.”

“Commandos,” he said to himself.

“Not surprising,” one of his guards said. “You’d have to have balls to pull something off like this.”

“What can I do?”

“Stay in that room; don’t go anywhere. And lock the door. We’ll have to hold them off long enough till the Home Guard can get here.”

Rommel saw several more Albion soldiers run down the corridor and take defensive positions behind whatever they could use as cover. He was pushed back inside the room and the door was locked from the outside. All he could do was wait, listen, and pray that they would be able to hold back the commandos long enough for reinforcements to arrive.

He could hear the distinct sound of blaster fire outside the door, and could tell that the defenders were being pushed back. Eventually the fire went away, but not before he heard the sounds of the lock on his door being worked on. It slid open, to show a man wearing a grey uniform that looked similar to the garbs of the SS. He reacted quickly, trying to lay a punch on the man’s face, but wasn’t fast enough. The commando countered with his rifle and hit him with the butt end in the chest. Rommel stumbled back, trying to gather himself when he looked up and saw him pointing his rifle at him.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, Rommel,” he said in what Rommel. “Looks like I have the honor of killing the most infamous traitor to the Reich. Heil—“

His sentence was cut short by the sound of a blaster going off. The commando fell to the ground and Rommel looked up to see his driver there standing in front him, and for the first time, noticing that he was actually a she, and pointing that rifle down at the now dead commando.

“I suppose it was a good thing I decided to come back here to check on you,” she said. “Are you alright?”

“Just my pride,” he said. Being saved by a woman was not something he would have expected in his time in the field.

He looked down at the commando and examined it. “SS Commandos,” he said. He reached over and grabbed a pistol that looked eerily similar to the Mauser C96.

“Come on,” his driver said. “The commandos have continued moving toward the War Room. It’s sealed off but I don’t think it will hold the commandos off for long.” She hears footsteps coming up the hallway and both she and Rommel point their weapons in that direction. Both are relieved to see that they wear the uniforms of the Home Guard.

A captain walks up to the both of them. “Sergeant, what’s the situation?”

“Sir,” the sergeant says, saluting, lowering her hand when the captain salutes back. “Commandos stormed the building and made their way toward the War Room where the Prime Minister is currently located. One of them almost shot Rommel, sir.”

The captain gives Rommel a once over. “So you’re the famous Getov general that has Jerry so hot and bothered.” He stands at attention and salutes, “Captain Richard Price, of Her Majesty’s Special Air Services. Lucky that I was in the area when this happened.”

Rommel returns the salute. “Yes, it is, Captain. I think we should head to the War Room and ensure that the commandos do not succeed in their mission.”

Price nods in agreement. “Quite right.” He turns toward the other men, “Let’s get moving, people. There’s still a job that we have to complete.”

The Albion soldiers, along with Rommel, followed the quickest available route to the War Room, encountering several bodies along the way. Some belonging to Albion while others were those of the Getov SS Commandoes. It wasn’t long before they reached the final checkpoint, and saw several commandoes dressed in black armor working at the security lock.

“How many are there?” Rommel asked.

“About a dozen,” Price answered after taking a quick look around the corner with a probe. “Three working the lock while the remainder are facing down the hallway.”

“They’re trapped but there’s only one way to get to them,” Rommel said. “They’ll kill most of us if we charge them.”

“Exactly,” Price replied. He reached into his belt pouch and pulls out what appeared to be grenades. “Stun grenades on my signal.” Three other soldier pull them out and ready them. “Three…two…one…” All four soldiers throw the grenades down the corridor, and a loud *bang* can be hear with a bright flash of light following.

“Let’s move!” Price commanded, and turned the corner and began firing. Several others followed him, Rommel included, firing their blasters downrange toward the enemy. The stun grenades effect lasted for only a few seconds, but it was long enough for the commandoes to lose their advantage. Four died before they could respond, and another three fell soon after. The remaining commandos began to return firing, taking down several Home Guard that were caught in the open.

Rommel, taking cover behind a small pillar, raised his pistol and fired two shots at a Getov commando, hitting him in the chest and then the head. “I almost feel like I’m back in the Great War,” he said to himself. He took a few potshots at another commando to keep him down as one of the Home Guard moved up.

“Bollocks!” yelled Price as he watched the door to the War Room open and saw two commandos run in while the remaining two stayed outside. Price pulled out two grenades, primed them, and threw them over.

Rommel heard a light explosion and looked to see the two guards sprawled across the floor. “Forward!” He heard Price yell. “We have to protect the Prime Minister!”

Rommel and the others followed him into the room to see several Albion officers down on the ground. Some wounded while others were obviously dead. He also saw two other bodies that didn’t belong with them. The commandos were down on the ground, one dead from blaster shots while another was seriously wounded.

“Prime Minister’s been hit!” he heard someone shout. Rommel ran over to where everyone was and saw Winston Churchill laying on the ground, wounded from a blaster shot. He looked down in the Prime Minister’s right hand and saw a blaster similar to what he was carrying.

“We need a Medic over here!” another soldier yelled.

Rommel looked again at the Prime Minister, praying that he would survive his injuries.

Chapter Text

Year 13, Month 05, Day 21
London Medical Facility
Albion


He was swimming. Sir Winston Churchill, former Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, could feel himself floating in some liquid. He also felt an ache on his shoulder. He could hear voices, but they sounded distant, he attempted to open his eyes, but they felt heavy. After much effort, he saw that in some sort of tank. Panic gripped him and he tried to figure out what the bloody hell was going on.

“He’s awake,” he heard a voice say out of nowhere. He saw in front of him a couple of people standing outside of the tank he was suspended in.

“His heart rate is increasing!” said another. “His heart is going to fail if we can’t slow it down. We have to give him another dose.”

“No, don’t,” said a female voice.

Churchill saw her walked up to the tank and heard her say, “Prime Minister, you need to calm down. You’ve been shot by one of the commandos that stormed the War Room and you need to allow time for the bacta to fully heal you.”

Bacta? What is she talking about? he thought to himself, taking a few deep breaths. Where am I?

“Don’t worry,” she said, calmly. “We’ll make sure that you fully recover from your injuries, also, I thought you should know that you managed to kill two of them before they hit you.” She smiled slightly and left him with his thoughts.

How is all of this possible? he thought. I’m not Prime Minister anymore, at least not since the election of 1955. He had so many questions that he didn’t know where to begin. At least he knew that he was safe. The medical staff in front of him were definitely British, and he could recognize some of the accents they spoke.

He looked down at his side and saw what looked like a combination between a bullet wound and a burn. What was he hit with? I guess things will be explained in time, he thought.

Two days later


Churchill felt better than he had in years. All of the aches that he experienced and normally felt were gone or greatly reduced. It didn’t take him long to figure out that something had happened to him after he died, but to see that he was in some sort of futuristic situation was not something he expected. He saw flying cars, robots, machines that could do amazing things and still he had only scratched the surface of this amazing place.

Then he read the news and reports that he had been given. It was World War II repeating itself, only this time, there were space battles that took the place of sea battles, and battles over whole planets instead of countries. Even the sides of the conflict were the same, with the Allies fighting against the Axis. What terrified him was the fact that this Second Terran Sector War would become parts of something bigger. There had been news reports that a battle had taken place on some distant planet called Geonosis and that it seemed that the fighting would spread to the rest of the galaxy. Reading that a whole galaxy was at war with itself was incomprehensible. Then he read about the attack on himself. Gotev, this galaxy’s version of Nazi Germany, had sent a commando team to kill the Albion military leadership.

“Thank God for the SAS and that defector,” he said to himself as he walked down the hallway, looking at the battle damage that was visible.

“How are you feeling, Prime Minister?” a voice behind him asked.

Churchill looked and was surprised to see who it was to who asked the question. “You're supposed to be dead!” pointing at the man who had spoken behind him.

A questioning look came across Erwin Rommel’s face, “What do you mean I’m supposed to be dead?”

“You died almost twenty years before me,” Winston replied, pointing a finger.

Rommel’s mind started to race. Was this another person from Earth? “When did I die?”

“The 14th of October, 1944,” Winston answered.

Rommel nodded, remembering that day in the forest, but there was a question that he wanted to know the answer to. “So you must have come from Earth as soon as you died there?”

Churchill nodded. “Yes, I did. I have to admit, I didn’t expect for this to happen.” He motioned his hand around the room to emphasize. “However, I’m surprised to see you here. I assume that you are the Getov general that defected to our side?”

“Yes, I am, Prime Minister,” Rommel answered. “Though, I did not come here, so to speak, until after I was en route to Albion.”

Churchill grunted, thinking about the whole situation that they were in. “It seems as though we are to once again fight World War II,” he said finally. “I am curious as to who did this, but it might be something that neither of us can fully comprehend.”

“I do have a question to ask, Prime Minister,” Rommel started. “What happened to Hitler?”

“Committed suicide in April 1945,” Winston replied. “Before the Communists could get to him.”

Rommel was quiet for a while before commenting, “I fear that Germany will be paying for his actions for generations.”

“They were when I left,” Winston commented. “I don’t know what power sent us to this place, but I am glad to know that you have joined us in stopping Getov’s madman of a leader.”

“Yes, there was something I wanted to ask you,” Rommel started, but stopped, unsure on how to ask the question.”

“Speak you mind, I may have wanted you dead on Earth, but here, we are allies,” Churchill said with a slight chuckle.

“I request a field command against Getov,” Rommel requested. “I feel that knowing what Hitler did to Germany, I’ll be damned if I allow it to happen again here.”

"Knowing that you’re on our side, I think I can convince the General Staff to give you a command worthy of your abilities” Winston said with a small smile. “Come. I am sure the rest of the General Staff is wondering if another commando team has come to kidnap me”

Both walked into the War room, showing more battle damage than any other part of the building and looked around. Winston noticed it looked similar to the one he had spent much time in as the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, but several things were different. A map showing all of the holdings of the UK, the location of military forces belonging to allies and enemies floated in the air. Several more were all across the room, showing more detailed theaters of the war. Several of the general officers looked up from what they were doing. Many of them gave Rommel questioning looks as he and Churchill walked passed them, but returned to their tasks when Churchill gave them a stare.


As the two of them walked up to the map of the sector, both realize that this will be both similar and different than what they have experienced before. Looking at the sector map, Rommel says quietly, “War. War never Changes.”

Chapter Text

Year 13, Month 05, Day 23
HMS Warspite
Algers System, Afrikana Region


Andrew Cunningham, 1st Viscount Cunningham of Hyndhope, awoke to familiar settings. He saw bulkheads made of metal, and lights that were a faded. He wondered where he was. This wasn’t his home at Bishop’s Waltham in Hampshire. It felt like a ship, but it didn’t have the feels that one would expect from a ship at sea. There was no swaying of the vessel, and it was quiet almost, except for a dull hum that he could barely hear. He slowly got out of bed, noticing that he didn’t feel the aches and pains that were normally associated with him getting out of bed.

Reaching over for a light, he switches it on and for the first time, sees his room clearly. It was a ship for sure, but it was different from others he had served on. Where am I? he thought. Why do I feel better than I have in years? He looked around and saw his military uniform hanging on the wall. It was very similar to what he wore when he commanded the Mediterranean Fleet during World War II, down to the admiral stripes and stars on it.

“My uniform…” he muttered to himself. He looked down at his desk and saw what looked like a clipboard, but it seemed to have writing on it. He picked it up, noticing that there was a report on it. He brushed his fingers against it and saw the picture Chiange. He moved his fingers against it several times and saw it was almost like a logbook, holding information that would take several.

This is amazing, he thought. He looked down at other objects, all of them appeared to be like books, but holding more information than he thought possible. He spent a couple of hours looking through all of them, trying to see what they contained. Some were indeed logbooks while others were reports. He would spend the next couple of hours looking through the information, trying to learn everything that he could. From what he was able to read, he learned that he was the admiral in command of Albion forces in the Afrikana region of the Terran Sector. He wanted to learn more but he focused more on his assignment and command. Several names that appeared in his research were very familiar. Several ship commanders and general officers had names that he remembered, and the pictures that were attached to them only reinforced the idea that somehow, he was refighting World War II, with everything scaled up to from a planet to a region of the galaxy.

All sorts of question were coming through his head, like what had caused this and if this was some sort of punishment or reward for his actions on Earth. He heard a knock at his door and his military training kicking in. “Enter,” he said, almost out of habit.

The door slid open, something that he noticed, but focused on who had entered. It was a young lieutenant, who stood at attention when he entered. “Admiral, you requested to be awakened when the patrols returned from scouting the Tunis System.”

“Yes, of course,” Cunningham said, going along with what the lieutenant had told him. Give me a few minutes to get ready and you can take me to the bridge.”

“Yes, sir,” the lieutenant said. He turned and left the room.

Cunningham was dressed and fully presentable in five minutes. Upon exiting his room, he was guided by the junior officer to the bridge of what he learned earlier to be the HMS Warspite, the name of his old flagship while in command of the Mediterranean theater on Earth. When he entered the bridge, he heard the customary, “Admiral on deck!”

“At ease everyone,” he said as he looked around. The layout was different from the ships he had served on. He made a point to learn what he could about his flagship. “What have our scouts learned in the Tunis system?”

“Our scouts reported that the majority of the ships in orbit over Tunis are transports for evacuating the rest of the Getov and Noria armies out of the Afrikana Region. The fleet is made up of fifteen transports while enemy warships are three frigates, one destroyer and one cruiser.”

Getov and Noria, this galaxy’s version of fascist Germany and Italy. Cunningham had read how both had been driven out of Afrikana and were making their way toward Europa for a better defensive position. Allowing those army units to survive would not be best for the Allies. He had over twenty vessels, including two carriers and two battlecruisers with various other capital ships at his disposal. “What about their raiders?” Cunningham asked. He had learned that Getov was good at using the space version of a submersible.

“Most of their operations have been focused on trying to hamper Republic shipping to us and the rest of the Allies,” answered the captain of the vessel. “Activity in this region of the sector has been low since the Americans started assisting us.”

Good to know the American’s of this galaxy are a good as the ones back on Earth, he thought. “Have the fleet ready to move into the system. When we arrive, we cannot allow any of their ships to leave that system to Noria.”

“Yes, Admiral,” the captain replied, who then began to issue orders.

Cunningham allowed him to do his job, as for himself, this would be his first space battle. He was confident that the fleet would be successful. After all, this was the Royal Navy of Albion, with many of the same traditions from the Royal Navy on Earth. He had confidence in the abilities of the ship captains and their crews. As the fleet prepared the final calculations to enter hyperspace, he thought of something he told his fleet when they were conducting a similar assignment on Earth: "Sink, burn and destroy: Let nothing pass".

Chapter Text

April 12, 1945
Little White House
Warm Springs, Georgia, USA


President Franklin Roosevelt sat in a chair as he waited for is portrait to be done. He took a moment to try and relax as he sat there. The years had been difficult for him and he could feel his health beginning to slip, but he had to keep it hidden from the public. They needed to know their President was there to lead them. He had been there for the Great Depression and through the darkest days of World War II. He had to see it to the end.

He took a moment to enjoy the calmness of his surroundings. The birds in the air, and the sky above him. Maybe after the portrait was finished, he would stay outside for a bit and just enjoy nature. Lord knows that he has earned a small piece of tranquility in the years that he had been President.

He started to feel a slight pain in his head. Damn headaches, he thought to himself. They had been getting worse lately, but like many things, he tried to ignore it.

He tried to stay still, Elizabeth Shoumatoff was half-way though with the portrait and he wanted her to finish it today, but the headache seemed to be getting worse. He reached for the back of his head, saying, “I have a terrific pain in the back of my head.”

Elizabeth Shoumatoff look away from her canvas to see President Franklin Roosevelt’s head slumped down. “Mr. President?” she asked, concern slipping into her voice. She called the aids and had Roosevelt carried to his room, with Dr. Howard Bruenn, his attending cardiologist, close behind them. It would only be a short time later that he would be pronounced dead from a cerebral hemorrhage. The following day, the entire country would know that one of its greatest leaders had passed away from this world.

Roosevelt felt himself laying on something soft. He tried to sit up, but was too tired to do anything but lay there. He began to open his eyes and after considerable effort, he saw that he was in some sort of hospital. He saw that he was surrounded by several machines that appeared to be measuring his condition, but none of it he recognized.

Where am I? he thought. This can’t be any hospital that I know of.

Too tired to do anything else, Roosevelt just laid there and waited, attempting to gather his strength while also trying to get his mind working again. After clearing the cobwebs, he tried to figure out just where he was. He figured that he was in some sort of medical facility, but why was he there? Was it for the headache that he felt before passing out?

A nurse came in, who saw that Roosevelt was up and quickly left. A few minutes later, another man came in, this one obviously a doctor of some kind. “It is good to see that you are awake, Senator. We were worried that the Getov raider that attacked your ship managed to kill you. Luckily the captain of that vessel was quick enough to prevent the ship from being destroyed.”

The doctor’s accent sounded British, but everything didn’t make any sense. Senator? Getov? What the hell was he talking about? “Where am I, doctor?” was what he managed to ask.

“You are in the VIP wing of the best hospital in Albion,” he replied, pride coming into his voice.

Albion, Roosevelt thought. That was an ancient name for the British Isles if he remembered his history correctly. “Could you explain to me what happened? My mind is a little… fuzzy on the details.”

“Of course, Senator. You were leaving your area of the Sector en route to Coruscant for a session in the Galactic Republic’s Senate. You were planning on stopping here on Albion to speak with the Prime Minister but your ship and its escorts were attacked by Getov raiders, where your ship was damaged and you were injured, and sent to here,” the doctor explained.

“Thank you.” He paused for a few moments before asking, “How long will it be before I am ready to get out of here?”

The doctor looks down at a pad that he seems to be carrying and replies, “You should be ready tomorrow. We’re just keeping you here just to be sure.

“Again, thank you, Doctor.”

“If you need anything else, please press that button over there and someone should be here shortly,” the doctor explain, pointing at a green button that was on a small pad. “Also, Senator, I was told by your staff to give these to you after you had awakened. I believe it is note and other sorts of information you need. I believe your staff thought you would want to look at them because of this delay and for any new developments that may have occurred since the attack.” He pulls out a tablet out of a bag and hands it to Roosevelt, who takes it carefully.

“Once again, thank you, Doctor,” Roosevelt said, looking at the pad that he had been handed. “Could I have some water? I feel a little thirsty.”

“I can have the nurse bring some in for you,” he assured him. “You have to keep yourself hydrated, especially after what had happened to you.”

Roosevelt thanks the man and begins to look through the pad he had been given. The doctor takes that as a signal for him to leave and for the next several hours, Franklin D. Roosevelt looks through his datapad at all of the information that is stored on it and is surprised at what he has learned. All of Earth is now scaled up to a region of a galaxy, and was conducting its own version of World War II, and then there was the Clone Wars. A galactic scale conflict between an army of machines called droids and the clone army made up of copies of the best warrior in the galaxy and lead by these “Jedi”. He didn’t know what to think of them, but seeing the war, he knew that he had to do something. The Senate of the Galactic Republic seemed like his envisioned United Nations, and was the place he needed to go to try and gain support in this conflict, even if the whole galaxy was at war. Maybe a few of these Jedi could offer assistance.

One Day Later


Roosevelt walked, out of the hospital and on his own two legs. He admitted, it was nice to not rely on leg braces, or a wheelchair, but he knew that he shouldn’t let this second chance go to waste. I’ll make sure to avoid the mistakes of the past, he thought to himself.

He was escorted out of the hospital by several bodyguards and was surprised to see several Albion soldiers surrounding a man wearing a general’s uniform. When he got closer, he recognized the man from the many briefs that he had received from 1942 through ’44.

“I thought you were dead!” he said, surprise coming into his voice.

Everyone looked at Roosevelt in surprise, especially Rommel. Is he another from Earth? he thought to himself. “As you can see, Senator, I am not dead.” He then takes a step closer toward the senator. “Would you mind if I talked with you in private for a moment?”

Roosevelt thought that this could be a trick to have him killed, but he remembered how General Patton always had respect for the man as a commander. “Very well, general.” Both groups of bodyguards allowed the two some distance away from each other before

They both stood there, staring at each other for a while before Rommel finally said, “You are the second person I’ve met to say that I’m supposed to be dead.” A small smile came across his face. “It seems that I am not the only person here to have come from Earth.” He extended his hand, “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, President, or should I say, Senator Roosevelt.”

Roosevelt took the extended hand, uncomfortable about the whole situation. “I am a Senator right now, so I shall be addressed that way, General. You said that I was the second person here to mention your death. Who was the first?”

“Winston Churchill,” Rommel answered. “He is the current Prime Minister of Albion, this galaxy’s version of the United Kingdom. If you want more information, you will have to talk with him, as for myself, I am here to greet you and escort you to the War Ministry.”

Roosevelt remembered the personality and strong will of the Old British Bulldog, and he admitted to himself that it would be nice to see someone whom he could talk with about events back on Earth. “Then let’s go, General. I don’t think it is proper manners for even a Senator for the Galactic Republic to keep Prime Minister Churchill waiting for too long.”

Rommel chucked a little and nodded with agreement. The two rejoined their escorts and were placed in the same speeder which soon took off toward the War ministry. There, three of the most famous figures of the Second World War would meet, and hopefully, change the course of the war for the better.

Chapter Text

Year 13, Month 05, Day 25
War Ministry
London, Albion System


The trip to the War Ministry was quiet, though both Rommel and Roosevelt kept themselves busy by looking through their datapads. There was a mountain of information that both of them had to go through, but while Rommel went through military matters, Roosevelt had to deal with the duties of representing the interests of a whole region of the Terran Sector, a job that he knew was going to take all of his diplomatic skills to accomplish.

Upon arriving at the War Ministry, both stepped out of the speeder and were escorted inside. Following the various security procedures, they were led to a room that Roosevelt remembered going to many times during his time on Earth. Churchill’s War Ministry Office. It looked similar to what he had seen, but there were more futuristic accessories. A monitor that was attached to the HoloNet was on his desk, as was a droid that was there to offer assistance. The Prime Minister, was sitting at his desk, looking at reports when both Rommel and Roosevelt walked in.

“Prime Minister,” Rommel started, standing between attention and relaxed, Senator Roosevelt is here to see you, and there is some information that the both of us would like to share with you.

Churchill looked up at the both of them, noticing the tone that Rommel had used. “R46,” he said, turning toward the droid, “Would you please leave us for a moment. I will call you in if I need anything.”

The droid bowed its head slightly. “Of course, sir,” and began to slowly move toward the door.

As soon as it left, Churchill turned toward the both of them and said, “What is it that is so important, General Rommel?”

“We have ourselves another visitor from Earth,” he replied matter-of-factly. “Allow me to introduce former President Franklin Roosevelt.”

“President Roosevelt,” Churchill said as he stood up, a smile on his face. He removed the cigar that he had been puffing on and extending his hand. “It is good to see another has arrived to help us.”

“I am glad to be among familiar faces, so to speak,” Roosevelt replied, taking the hand. “Though I do wonder why any of us are here.”

“I have wondered that myself,” Churchill replied. “You are the third person that we know of who came from Earth after death. We don’t know why this has happened, but it seems we are to fight World War II again, and maybe prevent things that happened on Earth from happening here.”

“I agree with the Prime Minister,” Rommel said. “We must avoid the mistakes of our world and make things better for us after this one is over.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, Prime Minister,” Roosevelt said, “What did happen on Earth after I left?”

Rommel, having already heard what had happened after his death, didn’t want to hear the fate his beloved Germany again. “I have already heard this,” he said. “I shall leave you two to reconnect on events. As for myself, I have an army to prepare for combat. By your leave, Prime Minister?”

“Yes, of course,” Churchill said with a nod. “Soldiers need to see their commander in in order to have faith in his abilities.”

Rommel did a salute and left the room, leaving Roosevelt and Churchill alone to discuss their situation. “I’m surprised that you allowed Rommel to join your military, much less command an entire army,” Roosevelt said with mild surprise. “I understand he can offer us information that we need on the Nazis, but considering how much of a problem he caused for us back on Earth, I’m shocked that he was given a command.”

Churchill nodded. “I will admit that the thought did come across my mind, but considering that he saved my life, and willingly defected to our cause, I am prepared to believe him. He is an honorable man after all, one of the few from that entire war on Earth. Here, he wants to stop Hitler from dragging down Germany into the abyss, and I cannot fault him for that. Being forced to commit suicide on Earth and being hunted by the SS here has changed his views on how things should be done.”

Roosevelt was silent for a moment, taking in everything that had been told to him. Before Churchill continued, “”But I am sure you want to know of what happened to the world after you left, correct?”

“Yes, I would,” the Senator replied. “Since this area of the galaxy seems to be a scaled up version of earth, it would be best to know what happened to draw a comparison.”

“Very well,” Churchill said, grabbing a cigar and lighting it. “I suppose you would like to know how the war ended…”

For the next few hours, Winston Churchill described the situation on Earth up until a few years before his death. Roosevelt asked a few questions but allowed him to continue until he was through. When it was finished, the former President was able to contemplate some of the decision that he had made. “So things with the Soviets went downhill after the war ended…” he sighed. “I wish I hadn’t been so trusting of Stalin to keep his word, but at the time, we were all so desperate for cooperation that we had to make deals with the devil, even if he was the lesser of the two, and then the whole Iron Curtain and Cold War is something that I cannot even imagine.”

“Indeed,” Churchill said, stubbing out his cigar. “We need to try and keep those mistakes from occurring. I wish I could be of more help in history, but I will admit that later in my life, I wasn’t in complete control of my faculties.”

“I think forcing the British Empire to break apart was not one of my better ideas,” Roosevelt admitted. “Maybe a more unified Commonwealth would be preferable? It would certainly allow for both our nations to counter any actions of the Soviets better, or should I say Rarus Federation?”

“Same thing if you ask me. They follow the same ideology,’” Churchill said gruffly. “Right now, we need to focus on defeating these Nazis, while also preparing for the Reds.”

“Do we know of anyone else who may have joined us here from Earth?” Roosevelt asked. That was a concern of his, especially if any of them were on the Nazi side on the conflict. “If any of them join the Nazis or the communists, they could cause problems for us in this war.”

“Is there anyone else? I don’t know, but I suppose we will find out as time passes,” Churchill replied. “I do have a feeling that there will be more of us arriving here as this war continues.”

“Let’s not forget the larger Clone Wars,” Roosevelt commented. “It has only just started, but we both know that it could be destructive on a galactic scale.” Roosevelt paused for a moment before he continued. “That phrase is going to take some getting used to saying, but it is fitting for the situation. I have a feeling that the Clone Wars is going to last even longer considering that it involves the known galaxy, and the Republic is going to need as many experienced commanders as possible to stop the Separatists and help end the conflict.”

“Yes, I believe your ship was en route to Coruscant for a session of the Senate. I know that Albion’s Senator has already left, and others belonging to the Allies are leaving also.”

Roosevelt took a deep breath. “I suppose, that I should be leaving soon as well,” he said, shrugging. “I was once a Senator, and from what I have read, being a Senator is more prestigious than being President.” He pauses for a moment, before asking Churchill a question. “What do you think of the Jedi?”

Churchill takes a puff from his cigar before he answered. “A group of warrior monks that are loyal to the Republic to serve as peacekeepers and mediators for disputes and have magic-like powers? I don’t know. Their abilities are admirable, but the saying about power corrupting makes me weary of them,” he said, shaking his head. “I will admit that I haven’t fully read into their history, however.”

Roosevelt nods in agreement. “I agree, but I’ll learn more about them when I arrive at Coruscant. I will be sure to let you know of anything I may learn of importance,” he said, getting up from his seat. “It was nice to see you again, Prime Minister.” He extended his hand.

“And you, Senator,” Churchill replied in kind, grabbing his hand and shaking it. “Be safe, and may God watch over all of us.”

Chapter Text

Year 13, Month 05, Day 25
Thirty-First Army HQ
Albion


Rommel sat in the office of his new army command: the British Thirty-First Army, or as many had begun calling it: the Lightning Corp. It was a new army that had been created a few months earlier. The previous commanding general dying from a rare Getov raid of the system resulted in Rommel being given the command. Churchill had managed to convince the British General Staff that giving the Thirty-First to Rommel would be the best use for his talents, and would show that not all of the Getov people were evil Nazis. Rommel admitted that he was worried that an Albion Army might have trouble being under the command of a Getov General, but surprisingly, his reputation as an honorable commander in the field was something that many respected, not to mention that his abilities were well known throughout the sector. There were a few under his command that gave him looks of distain, but he was certain that after being under his command in battle, their attitudes would Chiange.

The technology was a problem in the beginning, but after learning the basics, he found out that many of the tactics he used during Earth were easy to adapt to this new equipment. Some of the vehicles were amazing, but he had fallen in love with the hover tanks that were used. A tank that can move over rivers and other difficult terrain, Rommel thought to himself when he looked over the capabilities of it. This is going to cause me to Chiange some of my strategies. He made a note to take a couple different vehicles before being shipped out to find out which would be his command vehicle.

He was looking over some of the capabilities of a fighter that was used by the Albion military when he heard a knock at his door. “Enter,” he said, and in came his adjutant Major Alexander Mason. He was tall, thin, but had a good head on his shoulders. He had the potential to be a good commander after gaining some experience.

“Afternoon, General,” he said, saluting. When Rommel returned it, he continued, “Sir, I was given a datacard with our orders on it.”

“Let me see it,” Rommel said. After it was given to him, he placed it in his datapad and looked it over. “Do you know where we are going, Major?”

“No, sir,” Mason replied. “Though I have heard rumors about possible locations.”

“What have you heard?” Rommel asked, curiously. Soldiers always heard rumors about where they might be going, and they were usually able to put together a good idea of where.

“Some have said Aravia, others Indou to fight the Katanians. A few think we’ll be going to the Mediterranean Region,” Mason explained.

“And you personally?”

Mason shrugged slightly and answered, “Sir, I’m not on the General Staff or Military Intelligence, but if I had to guess, it would have say the Mediterranean.”

Rommel nodded. “It seems that you are correct. The Lightning Corp is to be sent to the Mediterranean Region, to take part in the invasion of Sicily.” He brought up a map of the Sicily Star System and to get a more detailed idea of what to expect in the system. “Taking Sicily would be a good way to ensure our supply lines in the region can continue unhampered,” he said, rubbing his chin.

“Might be a good place to stage an invasion of Europa proper,” Mason commented.

Rommel nodded, remembering the invasion of Italy and how it resulted in Germany having to send soldiers to assist them, soldiers that they really couldn’t spare at that time. He also remembered how difficult mountain warfare was for Allies. Maybe a Noria invasion could be used for a distraction? He would have to think about that.

“Get the men ready,” Rommel said. “Tell them that we’ll be shipping out in a couple weeks. Don’t give any details of where we are going. I don’t want Getov High Command to find out that we are going to take Sicily away from them.”

“Yes, sir. Will that be all, General?” the colonel asked.

“Yes, Major,” he replied, and returned the salute that Mason gave him before leaving. Rommel brought up a more detailed map of the Sicily, wanting to know just want he might be dealing with, and began preparations for his first military action with the Allies against the Getov military.

Chapter Text

April 18, 1943
South Pacific


“Incoming American fighters!” yelled the pilot of the Mitsubishi G4M transport/bomber.

Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto looked outside, through the window, and saw his escorts moving off to engage the American fighters. Six Zeros moved toward what he could see as over a dozen American aircraft, and he knew that his time on Earth was over.

He thought back to before he left Rabul, about the warning of possible attack by the Americans. He dismissed them, but now it seemed as though those fears were well based. All those years in service to the Emperor, from conflict with Russia to this war in the Pacific, he remained loyal. Now, the Americans were going to end it in a surprise attack. It was ironic in a sense. He was the person who executed the surprise attack on Pearl Harbor, and now he was the one on the receiving end of one.

He said a small prayer, asking for his family to be ok after he left this world, and that those in the Imperial Navy would be able to restrain the ambitions of the Army. They were fools and he had mentioned it many times in the meetings of the Imperial General Staff. He had a feeling that things would be bad for Japan after he was gone, but it was out of his hands.

He looked out the window again and saw the American fighter, a P-38 Lightning, firing its cannons at him. That was last thing he remembered before the rounds hit him: one in the shoulder, and the final one to his jaw.

Unknown Location


He gasped for air, as if he hadn’t breathed for ages. Isoroku Yamamoto took several breaths to try and calm himself. He tried to remember where he was, and his mind kept returning to the plane he was on. But he wasn’t on the plane, or in any sort of medical facility. He found himself in what he recognized as his quarters on Rabul, but it was different. It looked more modern than anything he had seen, even from his time in America. He did recognize a few things: his admiral uniform, his ceremonial katana, and a few other personal affects. He also saw a strange glowing pad. Picking it up, he saw writing on it and brushed his hands against the screen, only for the “page” to Chiange.

What is this? he thought. He began to read what he would later learn to be his journal. He read several entries, realizing that he was fighting the Pacific War again, and according to what the last entry was, he was supposed to be leaving this very day. He knew what was going to happen if he did, so he immediately began to get dressed.

As he fastened his belt holding his katana, he heard a knock at the door. “Enter,” he said.

In came a lieutenant who gave him a customary bow. “Good morning, Admiral. I am here to tell you that your transport—”

“I’m not going,” Yamamoto said, cutting the lieutenant in mid-sentence. “Assemble the command staff and prepare to have a message sent to Tokyo. Tell them that our codes have been compromised and we need new ones immediately.”

“Yes, Admiral. I will see to it.” The officer turned and left, leaving the admiral alone.

He didn’t know what to do. From what he read in his journal, his home had already lost the initiative and were on the defensive. He didn’t know what he could do then, but he decided that maybe he could make the price for fighting more costly than it could be, and maybe buy the Emperor the time needed to try and negotiate a settlement, but that would have to involve the Army, and he knew that they could be very difficult when it came to military matters.

I’ll deal with that when the time comes, he thought. Right then, he had more important things to focus on, like ensuring that their encrypted communications could not be heard by the Allies.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Year 13, Month 05, Day 21
Kursk System
Union of Rarus Federated Worlds


Ivan Konev woke up laying in a very uncomfortable bed, something that he hadn’t experienced since his days fighting against the fascists. He sat up, rubbing his eyes and trying to control the headache he was feeling. He knew that he had drunk a little vodka the night before, but he didn’t think he drank enough to cause a hangover this bad. He stood up, trying to keep his balance while also walking to the bathroom. After splashing some water on his face, he looked at himself in the mirror and thought that there was someone else in there with him. He touched his face, noticing that he looked much younger than he should be. He didn’t look anything like the seventy-five year old man who held the position of Inspector-General of the Defense Ministry. He looked similar to the photos of himself during the Great Patriotic War, but that was impossible. Was it some sort of KGB trick?

No, the KGB isn’t this good, despite what they project themselves as. There was something else entirely. He stepped out of the bathroom and looked around his room. It was plain, that much he could tell. He saw what appeared to be some sort of pad on the desk. Picking it up, he realized that it was glowing and there was writing on it. It was a field report and a strategy of things that were to be done when a place called Getov was to attack. He didn’t recognize the enemy that was attack, but he recognized the name of the place he was protecting was.

Kursk, he thought to himself in bewilderment. How is this possible? Am I fighting Kursk again? This can’t be real. He spent hours looking through what he could, and the more he read, the less be believed that this was some sort of deception. His mind still didn’t completely understand what was happening, but he understood the basics: The Rodina was under attack by the fascists. He had fought one war against them and won barely. Only with some luck did the Soviet Union win. This time, he was going to make sure what the mistakes that were made before were not going to be made again.

Time passed, and Konev wouldn’t have noticed until her heard a knock at the door. “Enter!” he said in a gruff voice.

The door opened and in came a Major. “Comrade General,” he said. “You were to be at the meeting of your staff officers.”

Keeping his composure, he replied, “My apologies. I was looking over our force disposition and I lost track of time. Let my staff know that I shall be there in ten minutes.”

“Yes, comrade,” the Major said, saluting.

“And make sure that there is someone outside to escort me to the meeting. I want to make sure there aren’t any Getov dogs here,” General Konev ordered.

The major acknowledged and left the room, leaving Konev the time he needed to get dressed and to make himself look presentable. He looked over on the wall and saw a picture of Stalin and grimaced. To be under that command of that Georgian fool was something he did not like to do, but as long as he kept giving results in the battlefield, he didn’t think Stalin would send him to the space version of Siberia. He would have to think of something else that he could do after the war, and a benefit of knowing what could happen, it gave him opportunities that others would not see.



When he was fully dressed, he stepped out of his room and was led by a lieutenant that seemed to be in awe of him. Konev carried a few small cartridges and the handheld device and followed the lieutenant until he saw the room. In the middle he saw a floating image of the system, and the forces under his command. Not only were ground forces under his command, but naval. Konev admitted to himself that naval warfare was not his area of expertise, but after reading that most of the naval officers were either dead or off in Siberia, he knew that he would have to learn quickly about how to use his ships.

“Comrades, what is on our schedule today?” Konev asked everyone.

For the next few hours, the room was a discussion of the coming battle around Kursk. The Rarus High Command had been receiving intelligence that the fascists were planning on an attack to take the system from them within the next couple of weeks, and attempt to regain the initiative on this front. Konev learned that this was an almost exact repeat of the Battle of Kursk that he participated in, and knew that he was in command of the reserve forces. He also learned that maskirovkas that he was in favor of were implemented here in space, and made a note to himself to try and learn some of the capabilities of these weapons, but for now, he would focus on preparing for the upcoming battle.

When the meeting ended, he allowed the other officers to leave, but stayed behind to look over the map. He adjusted it to look at it from above and saw a new perspective. He remembered back on Earth that the German military came close to breaching the southern flank, and it was the timely arrival of his reserve forces that stopped it from breaking through.

Perhaps it could be prevented if more forces were diverted toward that area, he thought to himself. It would prevent loss of life, but there was also the possibility that someone else would gain the glory and gain favor with the theater commander.

I will have to be careful with the information I know. I don’t know who else may be here, or if the fascists have someone here as well, he thought, frowning. It would be unfortunate if Manstein were here also. He caused enough problems for us before.

He would have to have to be careful, and calculate just what his actions may bring. He had time though. It would still be a few months before Getov would begin the attack, and even if he decided not to tell anyone, he knew what was going to happen and knew how to counter it.

Chapter Text

Year 13, Month 06, Day 01
Coruscant
The Galactic Republic


Senator Roosevelt looked out from his office, seeing just how massive the city was. A planet just one enormous city was impossible to fathom, and if he hadn’t seen it himself from orbit, he would have considered it an exaggeration. He left a little sad about it. A planet that had no natural beauty that could be seen. It made him appreciate that Earth still had plenty of natural beauty to be enjoyed.

He heard the door open and turned to see his assistant carrying several datacards and a datapad. “Senator, I brought you the information that you requested.”

“Thank you, Oliver,” Roosevelt said with a smile. He took the item and placed them on his desk. After he left, Roosevelt took out a cigarette, placed it in his holder, and lit it. He took a few puffs, allowing himself to enjoy the moment while staring out of the window.

“Honestly, Senator,” said a mechanical, and whiney voice, “I have no idea why you would indulge in such a horrid habit.”

Roosevelt turned his head, smiling while gripping the cigarette holder between his teeth. He watched as a silver colored protocol droid shuffled toward his location. “It helps me relax,” Roosevelt said. He had to admit that these droids were amazing. His 3PO class protocol droid was amazing, if not having a few quirks, but he learned to enjoy them, almost to the point he forgot that it was a droid and not a living thing. “Besides. I need to relax a little before I come before the Senate.”

“Of course, Senator,” the droid said, bowing slightly. “Do you need anything?”

“No, thank you. You may leave”

“You’re welcome, Senator,” the droid replied, leaving the room.

Roosevelt stared out the window until the cigarette was gone. He walked over to his desk and began reading over the information that his assistance had given him. He planned to give a report of what was happening in the Terran Sector, and request for some of the new clone troopers to assist them against the Axis. To do that, he would need to know everything that was going on in the sector and the rest of the galaxy, and while he may not have all the information that is needed, listening to the news on the progress of the war helped.

It seemed that most of the major trade routes were under threat by the Separatists, and because the Terran Sectors lay on the Hydian Way, that placed it high on a target list. He didn’t know if the Axis were planning on bringing in droid armies from the Separatists, but he believed that it would be better to have the clones, and a few Jedi to help in matters such as this.

Hearing a knock at the door, he calls for them to enter, and sees his droid coming in with one of his bodyguards.

“Senator, it is time,” the bodyguard said.

“Very well,” Roosevelt said, getting up from his seat. “Let’s get started.” He left the room, followed by his bodyguards, assistant, and droid. He wondered just what he would expect when reaching the Senate antechamber.

When he arrived at the Senate building, he realized just how large it was compared to the Capitol Building in Washington. He wondered how many people actually could be in there, but figured he would find out when he entered. He was led in by his small entourage, but when he approached the entrance, he was stopped by a pair of guards at the entrance.

“I’m sorry,” one of them said, matter-of-factly, “but your bodyguards cannot be allowed to enter. You’re droid may accompany you, but after we have scanned him for weapons.”

Roosevelt heard his droid begin to protect, but managed to get him to cooperate. When they entered the building, he was led by a man in a navy-blue uniform into the structure. Even though he knew to expect alien races, the sheer number of them surprised them, not to mention the appearance. Some of them looked like something from H.P. Lovecraft while others were something from the stories he heard from Theodore Roosevelt. He even saw one that had a fish-like head. As they walked, he noticed how the dress code was different from what he was used to. Business suits were the norm for him on Earth and the Terran Sector, but here, it looked like people had to wear outfits that made you look like royalty. He did admit to himself that some were rather interesting, but he had to focus on the task at hand.

"Sir, your chamber is this way" said Roosevelt's escort. "Follow me, please."

They walked through the entrance to his seat in the Senate chamber and saw just how large the structure was. It was in a bowl shape, with a single platform in the middle. There were hundreds of the circular 'box seats' along the walls of the chamber, each to represent a people in the galaxy. He also saw dozens of empty seats, these likely belonging to the systems that seceded from the Republic to create their Confederacy. On the platform in the middle of the chamber was an elderly man in a baggy outfit, a bald lady in white, and a blue, bulky man with long horns sticking out of his head. He recognized the elderly man in the middle as Chancellor Palpatine.

Roosevelt had read up on Palpatine. A senator from the planet Naboo that rose to power when his planet was invaded by the Trade Federation and a vote of no confidence was called against the then Chancellor Valorum. The following decade filled with systems becoming tired of the corruption that the Republic was filled with and began to consider secession. Then came assassination attempts on several key members of the Republic Senate who were calling for a peaceful solution until it erupted into a full blown war on a planet called Geonosis.

He had read that the Senate had granted the Chancellor emergency executive powers to bypass the Senate on certain matters on the war, and while he knew he had done it during the war back on Earth, he had planned to restore everything back to normal. He wondered if Palpatine would do the same thing, or if he would turn into a Caesar.

"This session of the Galactic Senate is now open!" boomed the blue man on the platform, applause greeted the announcement from all corners of the room.

Roosevelt watched as Palpatine stood up from his seat. "Senators and fellow delegates, I welcome everyone back to the Senate. I know many of you have had to make dangerous travels to come here, but I am pleased to see that your duty to the Republic is strong among all of you. This war, that many are starting to call the Clone Wars, threatens to tear apart our Republic that has stood for over a thousand generations. I do not come before you as the Chancellor of the Republic, but a fellow Republican who wishes to see this war ended quickly to avoid the bloodshed that war brings to everyone.”

The entire room erupted with applause, with Roosevelt being one of them. He admitted that he was a great speaker, and promising to bring a swift end to a war is something that all want. However, he also knew that wars like this rarely end quickly.

“As the first order of business,” Palpatine said, after the applause finished, “as all of you know, our Clone Army have brought many victories that have secured several areas of the galaxy. From the victories at Muunilinst to the freeing of Mon Calamari, our clone army and the Jedi have brought victories for us. However, we do not have the near unlimited numbers that the Separatists have with their droids, so we much choose where to send them.”

The reaction to this statement was what Roosevelt expected. Senators calling out that their systems was important to the Republic to require aid in a clone army, but while many of them had valid points, Roosevelt had one thing that many of the other systems didn’t.

Calmly, Roosevelt called out, “Chancellor, Senator Roosevelt of the United Systems of America requests to speak.”

Being the only being to follow establish protocol, he was given the floor. His assistant took the controls of the box and it detached from the wall and began to float in the middle of the chamber. Roosevelt had to admit that this technology he would never get tired of.

“Chancellor; fellow Senators,” I come before you as not a Senator, but as a person who believes in the ideals of the Republic. Of democracy, the rule of law, and freedom for all. This war, threatens all of that. In the Terran Sector, many had already been fighting a war that had been going on for two years for some, and closer to eight for others. It has now become part of a galactic conflict. Countless lives have been lost in a war that was started by power-hungry leaders. It has only been in the last year that the situation for the Allies has turned. Getov was pushed back from the gates of Moscow, the Katanian fleet defeated at the battle of Midway Outpost, and Getov and Noria forces finally pushed out of the Afrikania region of the Sector. These are great victories for us, but it brings the possibility of something worse.”

Roosevelt took a breath, pausing to let the effect sink in a bit. “These victories mean nothing if the leaders of the Axis request assistance from the Separatists. Right now, they have not done so, but it would only be a matter of time, and with the Terran Sector sitting on the Hydian Way, the doorway to the Mid and Outer Rim, it would be a tragedy if we were to fall under the control of the Separatists. It would allow them to have a staging area to push toward the Core.”

“It is not my intent to diminish the importance of the other systems requesting aid against the Separatists, and while much of our technology is not as efficient as the rest of the galaxy, we have some of the best military commanders in the galaxy. Many of those who served in the Republic Military can attest to that, having attended the various military institutions within our sector.

“What I request, is that a clone army be sent to the Terran Sector. I have seen war; war in space and on the ground. I have seen the faces of the dead, dying, and wounded. I have watched as cities were destroyed and the final moments of close friends. I have seen families mourn the loss of loved ones and children in the streets with no one to care for them. Ladies, gentlemen, and fellow sentient beings, I hate war. The cost of war is far too great; even the lives of the clone troopers is too much. However, I see the need for war to preserve what the Republic stands for. I pledge, that once the conflict in the Terran Sector has ended, the United Systems will commit themselves to ending the Clone Wars and ensuring peace and stability for the galaxy.”

The chamber was quiet for a moment, and Roosevelt was unsure if he would receive the support that he would need to ensure the clones would come. He soon heard someone else’s voice. One that was familiar. “The government of the Albion Empire also pledges to assist the greater galaxy after the Terran Sector has stabilized.” Roosevelt looked to see a box coming up to join him, and the passenger in it was surprising as well. Inside of it stood E. F. L. Wood, 1st Earl of Halifax.

“The floor does not acknowledge the Senator of the Kingdom of Albion,” said the blue figure.

“Apologies,” said Lord Halifax. “I wished to show my support for Senator Roosevelt’s promise to provide assistance in fighting the Separatists after our sector has been secured.” Both Senators glanced at each other, giving the other a small nod of acknowledgement that no one else seemed to notice. Soon, he received

“I shall give you proposal some thought, but it must come to the decisions of the Jedi Council and General Staff on where to send our clones,” Palpatine assured them. “But I assure you that we will do all that we can to ensure that the Terran Sector does no fall to the Separatists Armies.”

“Thank you, Chancellor,” Roosevelt said. Blowing his head slightly, with Lord Halifax doing the same. Roosevelt’s box then floated back to its dock on the wall, and he began to listen to what else the Senate had was bringing to the Chancellor. Roosevelt found him to be a very interesting person, and wondered just what sort of man he was.

Chapter Text

Year 13, Month 05, Day 34
HMS Illustrious
Tunis System, Afrikana Region


Rommel watched as the ship he was on drifted silently through the darkness of space. After months of being in this galaxy, he still marveled at just what humanity was capable of doing. He never considered himself an optimist when it came to how humanity would progress, but he thought that maybe as technology progressed, they would outgrow certain aspects, but it seemed that warfare was something that seemed to come out no matter what you did to suppress it.

He saw several of his ships unloading equipment toward the planet surface. He wondered what the men and women of the Thirty-First Army thought of him. He knew he had their respect, but he wondered what their personal feelings for him were. It all depended on whether or not they would follow his orders in combat. I guess I will find out when the time comes, he thought to himself.

The door behind him slid open, and expecting it to be his adjutant, he didn’t turn around. “Is this the respect that German soldiers give to allies?” the voice, clearly not his adjutant said.

Rommel spun around, surprised to see Admiral Cunningham, the Commander-in-Chief of the Mediterranean Fleet, standing in front of him. Rommel did a crisp salute, with Cunningham smiling slightly at Rommel’s shock.

“We may be allies now, but I still expect to have proper military etiquette on my ships,” he said, returning the salute. “And don’t think that because you were important on Earth that it gives you priority of assets in this operation. You fall under the command of General Alexander, and you will follow the chain-of-command.”

Rommel was used to this by now. He knew of his fame for tactics from Churchill, and that he was a traitor to Getov and under suspicion by most of Allied Command. “I give you my word, Admiral that I will not compromise this operation, and I will follow military procedures. I have more to fight for now. You and I both know what happens to Germany after the Second Great War, and as long as Hitler remains in power, I cannot allow that to happen.” He takes a deep breath before he continued. “I will fight to the best of my ability, and honorably.”

“That is good to hear, General,” Cunningham said, walking up to Rommel and extending his hand. When Rommel took it he gave it a few pumps and let go. “With one of the best German military commanders assisting us, I think we can end the war a little earlier than originally, especially if we can avoid the mistakes of the past.”

“Agreed,” Rommel said, turning to look out the viewport again.

“It is quite a sight, isn’t it?” Cunningham said walking up beside him, looking out at the activity around the ship and he saw Rommel nod. “I would do the same thing back on Earth. There is a peacefulness out in the sea, and it seems that it is the same in space.”

“You could almost forget that there was a war,” Rommel said, softly.

“Yes, you could. After all of this is over, I may decide to explore this galaxy,” Cunningham said. “I feel younger than I truly am, and I have a feeling that I have a few more decades before God decides to take me away.”

“That does sound nice,” Rommel replied. “I know that my wife and son would like that.”

“Do you still send her a message every day?” the admiral asked. “I remember hearing that you wrote to her everyday back on Earth.”

“Every chance I can. I made a promise and I intend to keep it. I know that she was against me doing this, but this is war, and it is what I know. Besides, I have a second chance to do something about Hitler, and not just watch as do nothing.”

“Good to know. There is another reason I am here, besides to emphasize that any dissident action by you would not be tolerated,” Cunningham said, firmly. “I have a transport ready to take us down to the surface of the planet. We are to meet with General Alexander so that we can finally learn about what this operation will be. Be at the hangar in thirty minutes.”

Sitting in the shuttle as it left the hangar of the carrier felt different from the aircraft Rommel had flown on Earth. He could feel slight movements, but it was smooth and quiet. He heard a small hum, but that was the extent of the noise. Rommel made a mental note to try and learn how to fly one of these things.

Major Mason and a couple from his staff sat in their seats, strapped in. Rommel decided he would rather sit up near the cockpit, to watch how the pilots handled the vehicle. He knew that he was receiving a few funny looks, but he ignored them.

He heard a muffled voice from the co-pilot’s headset, but was unable to hear what it was. The co-pilot turned toward him and said, “Sir, you will want to return to your seat. Long-range sensors have detecting something coming toward our location, but it hasn’t been identified.”

Taking the pilot’s word, he moved back to his seat and fastened his harness. He hated this: being in a situation where he couldn’t do anything but sit and wait. He was looking outside the viewport when an explosion happened. Rommel looked out the viewport on the opposite end and saw a ship exploding. Soon, there were a couple more and he saw a ship appear out of nowhere. He saw the black cross on the hull and knew that it was Getov. It was a raid against the planet, but for what he didn’t know.

The pilot took evasive action when the ship appeared and turned away from explosions. He called in to Command, alerting them of the situation, only to learn that three of these ships had appeared from out of nowhere. He received word that Albion ships were moving in to attack the Getov raiders when almost as quickly as they appeared, they were gone.

“Pelican, Five,” the pilot heard over the comm, “can you give us a visual of the attacking ships? Are they anywhere near you?”

He looked around, seeing nothing but the blackness of space and the debris of five Albion ships. “Negative on that,” he replied. “I see nothing and the sensors aren’t picking up anything either. It seems as though they just disappeared.”

Rommel heard only half of the conversation, but he heard enough to know what had happened. The Getvo ship had escaped, but them appearing and disappearing was something that he did not understand how. Obviously it was not something that was common, but Rommel did wonder what the point of it was.

“Bollocks!” he heard the pilot say. “Jerry just managed to hit General Alexander’s HQ.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Year 13, Month 06, Day 06
Berlin, Getov Prime
Greater Getov Reich


Grand Admiral Karl Dönitz, Commander-in-Chief of the Getov Navy, looked over the report that his ships had sent on the raid in the Tunis System. Five raiders had been sent in with three vessels destroyed, two of them destroyers and a frigate, another three cruisers damaged, and a successful strike on the headquarters for Allied Command in the Afrikana Region. It wasn’t a smashing victory, but it would no doubt cause problems for the Allies. Many estimated that the invasion of Sicily would be delayed for a couple of weeks while everything was reorganized on the Allied side. It was one of the many things that he was attempting to do to cause problems for the Allies since he arrived in this strange galaxy. Finding that he had returned to a younger body, but also having to fight World War II again gave him a chance to fix some of the mistakes that he had done on Earth.

“Damn the Allies,” he said to himself as he tossed the datapad onto his desk as memories of a previous life came back. Having to make excuses for his actions at Nuremburg and trying to save his own life still gave him a bad taste in his mouth. What gave them the right to question his actions in his own country? That answer was easy: The Allies won the war. The thought that the Germanys would do the same thing never came to him, but was really upset him was remembering his beloved Germany split and occupied between the victors just added insult to injury.

This time, I’ll make sure that the Allies are not as successful as before, he vowed. His comlink began to beep and he reached down to answer it. “This is Dönitz.”

“Admiral, we have that intelligence report that you wanted from our agents on Coruscant,” said a voice on the other side. “Do you want me to bring it to you?”

Dönitz smiled slightly. “Yes, please send it.” He placed it back on his belt and hoped that the information was what he expected. As he waited, he looked at the disposition of on Getov Naval forces in the Terran Sector, and even some that were operating outside of it. His staff had ensured that the current Enigma codes were good, but remembering just how effective the Allies had been at defeating his wolf packs on Earth, he wasn’t willing to take chances this time.

A knock came to the door and called for them to enter. When the door opened, he saw a Getov Lieutenant come in and hand him a datacard. “Are you cleared to be here when I read it, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, Admiral. I am,” he replied, quickly. “I am also here to relay any messages you wish for me to pass after reading the report.”

The Admiral nodded in approval. “Good. Please, help yourself to some tea, if you wish,” he said, motioning toward the fancy teapot that was on a hotplate.

“Thank you, Admiral,” the Lieutenant said, as he walked over to pour himself a small cup.

Dönitz focused on the report that was given to him, and no doubt that the Army would be receiving their own version of it as well. According to what he was reading, the Allies had formerly requested that the Republic send a clone army to the sector to help them in fighting off the Reich. With that army, there would no doubt be a couple of Jedi with them, and they would cause more problems for them. They did have one advantage over the forces of the Republic, and it was that the Getov military had far more experience in combat, and were already on a wartime economy.

He would have to see if the Führer would consider requesting assistance from the Confederacy, a thought that made his shift in his seat a little when he remembered how opposed he could be on certain topics. That was for later, however, but right now, he needed to make preparations for the possibility of the Republic sending a fleet to reinforce the Allies. With the Terran Sector located on the Hydian Way, it was easy to plot where they would be coming from. The information that he needed was when they would leave the Coruscant System.

Admiral Dönitz began typing on his datapad. He wanted preparations to begin immediately, moving ships from their assigned patrol areas to another one. He may not know when the Republic would be sending in their clones, but he wanted his ships ready for when the time came. He pulled out the datacard and handed it to the lieutenant, who had just finished his cup of tea.

“Lieutenant, I was you to give this to the Naval General Staff and I want them to give me a proposal on how to deal with this. Also, I have already attached a few ideas on what I think we could do, but if they can think of something better, I am willing to listen to suggestions as well.”

“Yes, Admiral,” the Lieutenant said, quickly. “I shall see to it. Heil Hitler.” The lieutenant did the salute that had followed Dönitz from Earth.

“Heil Hitler,” he said, returning it.

When the lieutenant left the room, Dönitz poured himself a cup of tea and looked at the last known locations for allied ships, and the various vessels of the Republic and Separatists that were operating close to the sector. It wasn’t a question of if, but when the Republic would send them. He had read Senator Roosevelt’s speech, and like Earth’s, this one was just as much an inspirational speaker as Hitler, if not more so.

If we can stop them from coming, we can possibly win this war, he thought. He was curious if the Separatists could send a few of their droids control ships. He had read some of the specifications on some of them, and while much of the technical information went over his head, he was able to grasp enough to know that they were very powerful, enough to turn the tide in the Atlantica Region of the sector at the least. He could also see the advantages of the droid armies against living ones. They are easier to manufacture and more cost effective. No training required. All that had to be done was build them, arm them, and send them into the field. What they lacked were freethinking capabilities, like a living being, but they made up for that in numbers. He began to imagine droid armies that were emblazoned with the Getov cross, but he shook his head at the thought. He had to think about the here and now; not about fantasies of events that may or may not happen. He did think that the Fatherland could learn something from that after the war was over.

He was worried, however. Rommel being on the side of the Allies was troubling, everyone knew that he was one of the best commanders in the sector and had the respect of colleagues and enemies. Hitler wanting him killed for the failure to hold parts of the Afrikana Region seemed a bit harsh in his opinion, but that was before his arrival. Now the Allies had in the grasp someone who knew many of the tactics of Getov High Command. The man would have to be watched carefully. He thought about assassination, but that seemed too extreme, especially for a man who had been given a very difficult task. Perhaps his knowledge of the man from Earth was clouding his perceptions of the man here? He pushed the thought away. That was a job for the Army General Staff to deal with. After all, this was not the one who was from Earth and knew of the assassination attempt on Hitler.

That thought did bring an interesting thought: Just who else, if anyone, had joined him in this galaxy to refight the Second Great War?

Chapter Text

Year 13, Month 06, Day 10
IKN Musashi
New Guinea System, The Empire of Katania


Admiral Yamamoto was not happy with the situation that he was trying to deal with. It seemed that whatever being had sent him to this galaxy seemed fit to give him a situation that was no different than that he was dealing with at the time of his death.

The Imperial Katanian Navy was now solely on the defensive. Their carrier capability was limited and what he had left were battleships with a few dedicated carriers. True, the battleships carried enough fighters to pose a problem for the Americans, but what he had a limited number of were experienced combat pilots. The Battle at Midway Outpost, just as it was on Earth, had been the turning point for the war in the Pacifica Region, and now Guadalcanal was becoming a quagmire where more and more ships were being lost.

He shook his head as he thought how he tried to explain to the General Staff how American successes had been because they knew what we were doing before it was done, but the Army dismissed it as the incompetence of the Navy. Still, he managed to convince the Imperial Navy to begin Chianging the codes that they used. I suppose that’s a victory, he thought to himself.

He looked back up at the map of the Pacifica Region of the sector, and it didn’t look very promising. Right now, the Americans were pushing up through the Solomon System, and the numerous moons that were present with the gas giants there. He knew where the Americans were heading as well. All information pointed to them to be heading for New Guinea System to try and take the last threats to Aurora out of play. He had enough ships to possibly stop the American advance, but it would leave other areas of the Pacifica region vulnerable. The Malay Region had a carrier fleet, but an Albion carrier fleet had been operating close to Indou, this sector’s version of India. He didn’t know who was in command of that fleet, but they could take Malay from them if he took them to stop the Americans. Near the Caroline System there was a flotilla of escort ships, mainly frigates and destroyers, with a few cruisers, but nothing that could do more than harry the Americans, plus he needed to keep that system defended since it was the main rally point for vessels in Mid-Pacifica.

He knew that the shipyards back at Katania were building more carriers, but it would take at least a year to replace those lost before he arrived, and then there were the crews that had to be trained, which would require even more time. Yamamoto pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting a headache that have become more frequent since coming here. To make matters worse, the Army was demanding that the Navy provide support for their operation against the Americans. All those Generals thought about was glory for the Emperor, and believing that the Navy was only to support them. The more things Chiange, the more they stay the same, he thought. Army fools. They have no idea just how important it is to hold space. What’s the point of holding a planet if the enemy can hit you from above and you have no way to hit back?

Defensive warfare was what he was asked to do, not to mention that he was fighting against the Combined Fleet being re-organized into a number of "Area Fleets" for local operational control of various geographic zones. That would be a disaster in the long run, unless he could bring a smashing victory over the Americans, but again, the Naval General Staff was not willing to support any new gambles. He may have to pull pack and consolidate his forces, and it may allow the Americans to stretch themselves out so that he could cut them off. He knew the Army would not be happy with that, but it may be the only thing possible.

A knock came to his door, and he replied, “Enter!” He welcomed the interruption, needing a break from the situation he was dealing with.

A lieutenant walked in and saluted, which Yamamoto returned. “Admiral, I have a message for you from the Naval General Staff.” He hold out a datacard which Yamamoto takes.

“Thank you” Yamamoto said, placing the datacard into his datapad. “You can leave now. I will call if I need someone here.”

“Yes, Admiral,” the lieutenant said as he saluted. Yamamoto returned it and was soon alone. He sat down at his desk to look through what was on the datacard and was surprised. It seemed that the Imperial Navy was requesting for the Confederacy of Independent Systems to provide ships and fighters. He had heard about droid fighters; machines that could fly themselves. It was an idea that he had trouble accepting. Fighters and bombers with actual pilots would have an intuition that machines did not have, but right now, his carriers were in need of fighters of any kind, and if it provided time for training for the Empire’s actual pilots, then it might be a decent tradeoff, in the short term at least.

The message didn’t say anything about if the army was going to receive any assistance. It would have been wise if they did, but knowing how they could be when it comes to things as glory for the Emperor, then perhaps they would not.

He put the datapad down and looked back at the holomap of the region. If they could get some assistance from the Separatists, then the advances that the American’s had made would not matter. The sleeping giant may still be brought down by the dragon.

Year 13, Month 06, Day 10
USS Enterprise
The Solomons, Pacifica Region


Admiral William “Bull” Halsey watched as fighters were launched from his flagship. He admitted to himself that waking up in a younger body after dying in New York was a surprise. He remembered seeing a bright light that soon faded into blackness. When he had awakened, he had found himself feeling far younger than his age said, and that he once again commanded the American Third Fleet and fighting a war one again against the Japanese. Katanians, Halsey thought to himself. He had arrived a few months prior to this, after the fighting for the Solomons had begun. Fighting World War II again, and this time in space, was an experience that he did not expect to happen after he had died. He attempted to learn about the Clone Wars but it was almost too much for him. A war that spanned an entire galaxy that sounded very similar to the American Civil War that he studied at Annapolis. He didn’t know what to think about that fight, but he knew what he had to do with the one he was currently in: He’s a sailor in the American Navy, and he would do his duty to defeat an enemy that attacked his country.

Learning some of the new tactics in commanding a space navy was difficult, but the principle was still the same. Use pickets to hold off fighters and bombers to protect the capital ship so that they can strike at the enemy. Though it seemed that ships still sometimes went into broadside combat, something that seemed outdated to his way of thinking, but after seeing the capabilities of his ships, he saw that maybe it wasn’t.

He was disappointed to find out that this war hadn’t followed the exact same path that he remember back on Earth. For example: Yamamoto was somehow alive and the assassination attempt on him had failed. Not long after that, the Japanese Naval Codes had begun to Chiange, and was a slight setback for American efforts in the region. He wondered if maybe Yamamoto had come to this was as well. His survival and the Chianging in their codes were something he couldn’t pass off as a coincidence.

Damn, he thought. It would be just my luck for me to have to fight that yellow bastard again. At least the Japanese were on the ropes, for the moment they were.

While Operation: Magic was not as successful as it used to have been, they were still able to listen in on several dispatches that Japanese High Command were sending. One of them worried him. It was a message that the Katanian ambassador to Getov had sent to Tokyo. It turned out that both nations had requested for the Separatists to offer aid in their theater. That made him worry. He knew that the Katanian fleet was in shambles, and even with Yamamoto in charge, they couldn’t hope to do any large offensive operations in the near future. If the Separatists bring their limitless droid armies, that could pose a problem.

Halsey looked at a map of the area he was responsible for, and knew where he was going to go after next. The Solomons was a system that housed several gas giants and many of them held habitable planets. Taking this system would help paving a way to New Guinea and the people of Aurora would be able to contribute more to the war. He also saw why the Terran Sector was so important. Going right through it was the Hydian Way, an important hyperspace route between the Outer Rim and the rest of the galaxy. He knew that it would be the main route for the Separatists to send reinforcements, and since he commanded forces that were operating on the outer edges of the Pacifica Region of the Sector, it would be his forces to receive the brunt of that attack.

He remembered how submarines were so instrumental for the defeat of Japan on Earth, he was sure they would prove just as useful here. I’ll place a few of our raiders along that route, he thought to himself. They’ll scout the area to ensure of anything that could be useful. Hopefully Magic would still be able to let them know if the Separatists were on their way.

Halsey would also make a request for more raiders to Nimitz. Even though it wasn’t the same one that he knew, he was still the same person, with the same aggressiveness that the previous had. Going after Katanian shipping and preparing for the Seps was something he would back.

“Sir,” said a voice to his left, pulling him out of his thought. “Here’s the latest intelligence that you wanted to see.”

Halsey looked to see a lieutenant handing him a datacard. He was still amazed at the technology he could use, but sometimes it became overwhelming for him. “Thank you,” he said, taking it and putting it in his datapad.

Looking through the reports, he recognized many of the names, and how similar many of the formations were. That made things easier, but fighting for a whole planet, much less a system, was not what he was used to. He would have to make this a smashing victory for the marines and pilots under his command. He needed to secure the Solomons and start moving to New Guinea before the end of the year, otherwise things could become difficult as the Japanese fought with the characteristic fanaticism. He knew what to expect, and wanted to avoid the mistakes he had made.

Not this time, he thought. I’m not going to be questioned for my actions like after Leyte. That was one mistake that he was not going to repeat. He had allowed his aggressiveness to get the better of him and his reputation suffered for it. Well, not this time.

He thought back to the speech that Roosevelt had given to the Senate. He found it hard to imagine that it was Cordell Hull who was President and not Franklin, though perhaps it would be better if he was in the Senate. If he could get those clone soldiers to join the fight, the war would go faster. Maybe even finish earlier than before, then they would begin fighting in the rest of the galaxy. That would be a very interesting situation. Fighting a galaxy-size war.

One fight at a time, he thought to himself, a slight smile coming to his face. One fight at a time.

Year 13, Month 06, Day 15
Bihar System
Albion Indou


Commander of the 38th Regiment, General Sun Li-jen watched as his soldiers drilled. He found it nice to be in command again. He had missed the comradery, the stories, and sometimes the smell that came with it. It wasn’t like during the later parts of his life where he had a position that was just for show and later placed under house arrest by the dictator Chiang and his foolish son. Both of them turned the Republic of China into something more akin to how the Soviet Union acted. Political commissars with military units had no place in a professional army.

He began to remember his training at Virginia Military Institute and couldn’t help but smile. How he had lied about his age to get into that prestigious place of learning. The lessons he was taught by his instructors, and what he learned from his friends. The games that they would play, the times they would go out and enjoy the nightlife, and some of the “rendezvouses” he enjoyed while there. Ah, the days to be young and carefree, he thought, a small smile coming to his face. I wonder how things are going back there.

He was surprised to find himself in a younger body after dying. He remembered seeing a bright light, something that he had heard you see when you die, but never truly believed in. However, instead of finding himself in the afterlife with the spirits of his family, he found himself in a much younger body and in command of his old regiment again. He saw people that he hadn’t seen in years since before his death. Some of them died from battle, others to age, and others to the terrors of the Chiangs. There were some differences though, the biggest one was the technology that his soldiers were using. All of it seemed like something out of science fiction, though some of the terms seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place them.

He turned his attention back onto his soldiers as they practiced. He knew the situation, and it was one that he was all too familiar with. World War II was in full swing and the Japanese, or Katanians as they were called here, were once again invading his homeland, called Kunia. He remembered how he was sent in to reopen the Burma Road back on Earth. He wasn’t sure if that would happen again, but he was going to make sure that his men and women were the best in the Republic of China. Kunia, he corrected.

Thinking of the Republic brought him back to thinking about Chiang Kai-shek, and just how bad of a leader he was. He had no doubt that he wasn’t the best person to lead China, especially the way his government was run. Corruption was rampant, and him focusing more on the communists and instead of the invading Japanese had been a big mistake, and no doubt had cost the man support of the people. Sun knew that it was the people that ultimately held the power of the government, and if they didn’t think that their leadership would do a good job, then they would choose a different one, and that usually ended in violence. It wasn’t like America where they were voted out and the politicians stepped down willingly.

If only I could do something to help make things better, he thought to himself. Maybe find a way to counter some of his influence?

He remembered that he had been well respected by both the British and Americans on Earth, and that seemed to be the case here as well, and he knew that was his saving grace when he was court-marshalled and placed under house arrest. He would have to see how the war would go, but he was already making plans on increasing training for new officers and soldiers. Even now, there would be several refugee ships arriving every few weeks, many filled with people who had nothing more than the clothes on their back. Several had volunteered to join the Chinese Expeditionary Army, while others volunteered to do menial work if only to have a place to sleep and food to eat. This allowed his soldiers to train more and become more proficient in their abilities.

He liked the technology that he was dealing with here. Laser guns, tanks that could hover, and mobile artillery that could do more damage than a full battery from Earth, not to mention the pilots that were flying the fighters and bombers. Albion and America were very generous on equipment, and were sending what they could to areas that were still fighting Katania.

His datapad beeped, and saw the results of an exercise that he soldiers had gone through on another part of the planet. The “Blue Force”, the main part of his regiment, had been destroyed by the “Red Force”, the reconnaissance part of his regiment, in an ambush that they should have expected, but instead, the commander’s arrogance had blinded him to the obvious. He was disappointed in that, and made sure to address it. He also saw a message informing him that there was going to be an exercise that was going to involve several units from all commanders in the Kunia-Bamar-Indou Theater. A way to bring the various units together and to test how they would do in a combat situation.

Hmm, he thought to himself, Might be a good idea to take part in that personally. It was the best way for him to learn how these weapons he had worked in the field, and it was a good way to get to know the men and women under his command. He even had a few aliens in his command, something that shocked him, but he was unwilling to turn down anyone who was willing to help. Some of them looked like creatures out of the stories that his grandmother would tell him to scare him into behaving, but some were almost human.

He had met a few soldiers that wore a strange set of armor that had a helmet that covered their entire head with a t-shaped visor on the front of it. Learning that they were mercenaries, and even though he did not care for men who worked for the highest bidder, he had to admit that their abilities were amazing, and made an effort for them to teach some of his men.

Then there was the group of aliens that they had rescued from a slave ship that had become stranded in their area of the sector. On board had been several alien species, from humans to female Twi’leks who were just as deadly as they were beautiful. None of them, however, were as honorable as a group of tall, hairy, creatures that he learned were called, Wookiees. They looked like monsters, but in reality, they were very intelligent and wise, not to mention strong and dedicated. He heard that several of the Wookiees had sworn a life debt to a couple of soldiers who had saved them when the Katanians launched a raid on the planet. He had one himself who he had saved when the raid was in full swing. He had pushed one into a foxhole as the bombardment started, and ever since then, he had a Wookiee as a bodyguard, who also turned out to be the leader of the group that had been on the ship.

Right then, the leader, whose name was Lofykam, which meant Clever Walker, walked up to him. The creature towered over him, but then again, he towered over everyone. “Hello, Lofykam,” Sun said, looking up at his newest subordinate.

“Grreetings, Generral,” the Wookiee replied. “”How arrrr yourrr trrroops doing?”

Sun smiled slightly. Despite how alien looked, he was surprised at just how well he could understand him. Except for him enunciating the “r” in words he said, you could follow him very well in conversation. “They are performing very well. I received a report that one of my subordinates fell into a trap during training. I will need to have a word with him.”

Lofykam grunted. “The trrraining that you have your soldierrrs going thrrrough will make them strrrong. Hopefully when the time comes, you will be able to defeat the Katanians and save yourrr home.”

Sun sighed, thinking back to how things went back on Earth. “I have a feeling that after the Katanians are defeated, the civil war we were fighting will continue,” he said, remorsefully. “We had been fighting each other for close to a decade before the Katanians invaded, and that was the only reason we stopped fighting. There’s too much distrust on both sides, and I want to see Kunia united and strong.”

Lofykam was silent for a while before saying something. “Perrrhaps afterrr the warrr, the Rrrepublic can help find a settlement between both sides?”

Sun thought about that for a moment. It may help, but with a galaxy to help rebuild after a war, he wasn’t sure if it would be possible for them to focus on a single sector. Not to mention Chiang’s distrust of foreigners in general. “It all really depends on the leadership of both parties,” he said finally. “There is corruption on both sides and I am only a soldier. I care about the men I command and the people I protect, but I am no politician.”

“Maybe yourrr frrriends in Albion and Amerrrica can help you? You have the respect of many forrr yourrr abilities, and I rrrememberrr that many call you the ‘Rrrommel of the East’,” the Wookiee suggested. “I have met many herrre and I know they want to see Kunia strrrong. I do not know of the rrrest of your people, but I prrromise that I will be herrre to help you in any way I can.”

Sun couldn’t help but smile and admire the Wookiee’s promise. To think that an alien was willing to help him in a conflict that they had no part in. It was commendable in a way, and maybe Lofykam had a point. Also, Sun knew of what would happen as time passed, and that gave him an advantage over others. He would have to see where that would take him, and maybe it could result in the Republic of Kunia surviving this war.

Chapter Text

Year 13, Month 06, Day 01
Kursk System
The Rarus Federation


Stiff was how he felt when he woke up. Sleeping on a stiff mattress was something that he was not used too, at least, not since his days as a commander in the Great Patriotic War. He sat up and swung his feet over the side, noticing that the floor was colder than usual. It also felt metallic.

Georgy Zhukov turned on a light and noticed that he wasn’t in his home. It looked similar to how his old field command looked when he commanded armies against the fascists. Where the hell am I? he thought to himself. He saw some personal affects in the room, a uniform that was hanging on the wall, a pistol on his desk that didn’t look familiar. He got up out of his bed, realizing that he could actually move. The damage that he had received from his stokes was gone. When he reached his desk and looked down at the pistol. It looked similar to the Tokarevs that he had seen, but it was different. There were more parts to it, and the barrel looked thicker than it should be. Picking it up, he examined it closer until he noticed a picture hanging on the wall.

No, he thought. What is this? Hanging on the wall, was a picture of the most feared man in the history of the Soviet Union. Joseph Stalin. Did the Stalinists regain control and he was being held captive? But if so, then what could explain him feeling better than he had in decades? Taking a closer look at the picture, he noticed the reflection. He looked around the room, trying to find a mirror or something. Moving toward the bathroom, he found a mirror and a face that he almost didn’t recognize. It was his own, but a younger version of it. “This can’t be,” he said to himself, touching his face.

He would have kept staring at himself in the mirror if a sudden knock at the door interrupted him. Not knowing who to expect, he took the pistol he had found and pointed it at the door. If they plan to kill me, I intend to take a few of them with me, he thought.

“Enter!” he replied, and through the sliding door came a face that he was sure he would never see again. “You? You died a year ago. How is this possible?”

Ivan Konev looked at Zhukov, wondering what the general was talking about. He then noticed the blaster that was pointed at him and there several seconds of silence but until he realized that it had happened again. “Do you remember the gift that Eisenhower gave you?” Konev asked cautiously.

“Yes,” Zhukov replied, the blaster still pointed at a man he thought dead and a questioning look coming to his face. “It was a set of fishing tackle. What is the point of this question? Are you attempting see if I am disloyal to the state because of a fishing gift I received from the man?”

That fact wouldn’t be known to the original, so this had to be the one that he knew from Earth. He could also tell that Zhukov was on edge, and he knew he would have to tread carefully. “Comrade General,” Konev said, calmly, “I have a story to tell you, and it is going to take a while to tell. Would you please sit? I will tell you everything.”

One Week Later


Georgy Zhukov looked over the force disposition of the Kursk System and nodded. It had taken him a day to finally believe Konev that he was indeed in another galaxy, and once again fight the Great Patriotic War. It had taken a few more days of almost non-stop studying to learn about the new technologies that he was dealing with. Spaceships, hovertanks, and blasters were just a few, and he was still overwhelmed. He was just glad that Konev was there to help him, otherwise he would be completely lost and no doubt be in Siberia, or whatever passed for that frozen wasteland.

“Have you decided if you are going to reinforce the southern perimeter of the system?” Konev asked, during the latest of the meetings over the upcoming battle.

“I’ve thought about it, and I’ve decided not to,” Zhukov answered. “I’ve allowed for a few extra units to be placed there, but I don’t want to tip our hand in the event that the fascists have someone who knows the future. It would be best to keep our reserve where they were, but I am giving you some heavier units in the event they manage a breakthrough.”

“Are you sure that is wise, comrade?” Konev asked. “If a breakthrough is successful, we could lose this whole front and be force back to the gates of Moscow.” He didn’t want to have to defend that system. They might not be as lucky as they were before.

“We cannot risk the possibility of one of the fascists from Earth knowing that we are from the same place,” Zhukov replied. “It is best to allow them to think they can make a breakthrough to make them more arrogant than usual. That is why I gave you a larger force than originally.”

Konev nodded. His group of reserve forces had increased by fifty percent, most of it heavy equipment that would prove useful in the upcoming battle.

“Look at it this way, Comrade,” Zhukov said finally. “If they don’t have anyone then we already know what will happen. If they do, they know that the lower flank will have the greatest chance of success and will focus more on that area, hence why I have added a few extra formations there and had your reserve force increased.”

“If I may ask, Comrade,” Konev began, cautiously, “Where did you find these extra units?”

“I had to pull a few from our Siberian frontiers, but those areas have seen little or no action since this war began,” he answered. “The equipment was fresh out of the factories.”

“Now, the only question is when the fascists will attack,” Konev said. “I will admit, it am looking forward to defeating these pigs.”

General Zhukov nodded in agreement, looking at the map. “However, they aren’t the only problem that the Rodina faces.”

Both knew of this threat that was indirectly mentioned. Stalin, the leader of the Union of Rarus Federated Worlds was not the right leader for the betterment of the Rarus people. Yes, he was essential to the war effort, especially to get the people to rally behind the cause of stopping the Nazis. However, they also knew that he had to be removed, and he wasn’t the only person. Lavrentiy Beria was also another person that was not good for the Rarus people. His list of crimes were far too many to count, and his control of the NKVD was a problem as well. They had to be careful, because they knew that the NKVD was just as fanatical and paranoid as the one back on Earth, if not more so with the technology that was available, neither wanted to be on the receiving end of an interrogation by the Sword and Shield of the Rarus Federation. It was a topic that they spoke of rarely, and only when they knew that there were no listening devices, but even then, they were careful. Both knew that Khrushchev would be a good successor, but they were unsure on how to use this information.

One thing at a time, Zhukov thought to himself as he watched the display in front of him. Win the war, and then focus on home. He was about to ask something when alarms began to go off and the display began to Chiange. An image of the system came up and around the edges of it were several grey icons, indications of Getov ships coming their way.

“Getov invasion fleet entering the system,” a voice over the communications announced. “Getov forces appearing on our upper and lower flanks. Center formation detecting token forces en route.”

“So it has begun,” Zhukov said out loud. He then turned toward Konev. “You should head up to your fleet. You will need to be ready when the fascists make a push for encirclement.”

Konev saluted. “Yes, Comrade General,” letting his hand down after the salute was returned. “It is a pleasure to serve under you again. Let’s show them why the Rarus Bear is to be feared.”

Zhukov smiled, a predatory smile that he showed rarely. “Remember, you are the reserve force. I don’t want you to do anything foolish,” he cautioned.

“Yes, Comrade. And trust your commanders. They know this plan well. Almost better than you,” he said touching the tip of his nose

Zhukov watched as his comrade left and turned back to the map. He could see as his forces began to respond to the Getov attack. Capital ships were moving into formation and fighters were being launched. “So begins the Battle for Kursk,” he said to himself, and watched as the battle began to unfold in front of him.

Year 13, Month 06, Day 13
Kursk System
The Rarus Federation


General Ivan Konev watched as the tactical screen showed where Getov and Rarus forces were fighting. He admired this technology. If they had had this on Earth, the fascists wouldn’t have made it to Moscow at all, but that was another life on another world. Here, he was to lead the reserve forces that were on the outer edges of the system, and he hated the waiting. Seeing the tactical situation was an even worse aspect of this, because he was constantly second-guessing what he saw.

He began to see some of the drawbacks of such amazing technology and just what it could do if someone tried to see everything at once. He tried to focus on specific areas at the moment, just to see what the commanders were doing.

In the Upper Perimeter, the Getov commander had decided to try and force a breakthrough by using much smaller support ships ranging from frigates to light cruisers, having the larger capital ships remain behind until a breakthrough was established. That was on the first day of the battle and the fighting to get through the outer defenses was a challenge for any commander. The first couple outer planets in the system were currently being fought over, and from what he had seen and heard, the fighting was worse than what he had read in Stalingrad and Leningrad. However, they were continuing to hold, a feat that he was proud of. Other defenses were holding the Getov military back on this front as well. There were several defense stations that were scattered throughout the systems, with mines that helped channel their ships down a predictable path.

Konev had watched as the commander of the defenses launched a counterattack on over forty Getov heavy capital ships that had moved toward a breach they had caused, and were pushing toward the command and control center for the Upper Outer Perimeter. He watched the attackers launch transports that would no doubt be carrying the invasion force, and as the planetary defenses fired on them. Close to thirty Rarus capital ships had moved toward the almost-breakthrough to slow the Getvo forces enough to stop the invasion, and while most of the defending ships had been destroyed or disabled, with only a quarter of those from Getov destroyed, it had bought time for the reserve forces to be brought in to seal the gap and prevent a breakthrough. That left a few thousand Getov soldiers on the ground with their support equipment, but they would be dealt with by the local ground forces.

During the three days following the initial attack on the Upper Perimeter, Rarus forces launched another counterattack, this one pushing the fascists back until they encountered their heavy cruisers, with fighting taking place along the most heavily fortified planet in the system, a vital point in the Outer Defenses. Konev had watched as the planet fell to Getov forces, but for it to be retaken by their own, and once again taken by Getov. This cycle happened several more times, and it reminded him of the useless charges from the First Great War. To see such destruction on such a large scale was frightening. As of right now, the planet was held by Getov, but the force that had fought for it was a shadow of its former self, and there was an opportunity for the planet to be retaken.

Reinforcements are on the way to that sector, Konev thought to himself, a small smile on his face as the wasted lives the fascists had used on the planet. Just one more day and you won’t be able to do anything at all in that area.

For the Lower Perimeter, the attack had begun an hour earlier on the first day and Getov forces proved to be far more successful. There had been a triple layered defensive line that had been expected to hold back any attack, however, the Getov forces had moved too fast for the defenders to mount a united defense. The result: three formations moved through the defenses. One of them, the one on the far left, became stranded in a minefield and this formation became a target for a concentrated barrage of turbolasers, missiles, and cannon fire. Numerous vessels were destroyed, but picket ships were able to clear a path through the minefield and then continued, only to again become bogged down in a fight with several defense stations.

Konev had watched as the formation in the center moved toward a planet that was a key part of the defenses of the system. Those Getov ships had been deployed in an arrow formation, with heavy ships forming the front and the smaller support ships keeping the flanks and rear safe as fighters and bombers of the Rarus military attempted to slow them down, only to be pushed back by Getov fighters. This formation managed to move up and breach the first layer of defenses, forcing some of the defenders to pull back to keep from being encircled. This formation was also preparing to breach the second layer of defenses, but the commander of that area had been putting up a tough resistance against their efforts.

The formation that was on the far right belong to the Getov SS, and were some of the most radical and aggressive fighters he had seen in the entire battle. This formation had used their heavy vessels to punch a hole through the defenses, and their fighters made quick work of several of the stations that were supposed to hold them off. What few ships that were in that area were either destroyed or pushed back toward the second line of defenses. What had slowed them down was a commander taking forty vessels and attacking the SS formation on their flank, causing them to focus on this new threat. These ships had to withdraw after receiving too many casualties, but it bought the defenders on the second defensive line, the time to have reinforcements brought up and prevent any further advancement.

All of that happened on the first day, Konev thought, recalling the events of the Lower Perimeter.

Over the next few days, Konev had sent some of his reserve forces to strengthen the Lower Perimeter, and it was just in time that he had done so. The fascists renewed their offensive, but had been slowed by the stiff resistance of several “stealth” ships that were covered in a material that made them difficult to see and locate, but as soon as the ships were hit, they would be as easy to detect as any other. He had watched one counterattack the defending commander of the perimeter had launched and it was stopped by a lone SS ship when he knocked out four capital ships with his single vessel and the attack was called off.

That commander was a fool, Konev thought to himself. His ambition got the better of him.

On this day, the fifth day of the battle, Getov forces were beginning to make progress. The SS formation was beginning to make a push toward the Inner Planets of the Kursk System and were pressing their advantage on the planet Prokhorovka, the last line of defense before the planet Kursk, and many of the defenders were beginning to feel the pressure. To make matters worse, the formation that had spent the first five days stranded and attempting to breach the defenses finally made a breakthrough and was attempting to catch up with the other two formations.

It’s how I remember. Konev watched as this group, that he felt some pity for, make full speed toward the rest of the forces that had broken through the first and second lines of defenses. Now we shall see just what they will do when they find out just how many reserves we have brought here to the battle.

“Comrade General,” a major said as he got up from the communications station. “Urgent message from General Zhukov.” In his hand he held a datapad.

Konev took it and read what orders his friend had for him.


//MESSAGE BEGINS//


Comrade General Konev,

Getov offensive on Upper Perimeter has stalled after reinforcements arrived. Getov commander pulling back and preparations are being put in place for counteroffensive.

Take reserve forces and engage Getov offensive on the Lower Perimeter. Follow plans in accordance to our previous discussions.


Good luck, Comrade.

General Zhukov


//END MESSAGE//



Konev smiled. It is now time. He turns toward the communications officer. “Major, I want a message sent to all reserve commanders who aren’t currently engaged. Inform them that we will be joining the fight against the fascists on the Lower Perimeter. Code word: Steel, Steel, Steel.”

“Yes, Comrade General,” the major said, enthusiasm making its way into his voice. He turned to send the message to the proper commanders.

Konev smiled. This one word would unleash millions of men and women on Getov forces that had attacked the Lower Perimeter. The defenses had weakened them and these breakthroughs had caused them to overextend themselves from support. Three naval formations and countless soldiers on the planets were about to feel the wrath of a people who had suffered years of brutality from these invaders. This is the beginning of the end for the Getov offensive, Konev thought, thinking back to how things had gone back on Earth, and the beginning of the road to Berlin.

Chapter Text

Year 13, Month 6, Day 21
HMS Warspite
Sicily System, Norian Empire


Admiral Cunningham watched as the ships of the Allies continued the bombardment of the defenses of the Sicily System. In the weeks prior to the attack, he had launched raids against systems that were all across the Mediterranean Region, from Lower portions of Floevis (the sector’s version of France) to the planets that surrounded the Hellenic Kingdom (Greece). All of this was to keep Getvo forces off balance of where the invasion would be coming. Even the lower parts of Noria itself were hit by these raids that got the attention of Getov forces that were currently engaged in a life-or-death struggle with Rarus forces at Kursk.

I would hate to be taking part in that battle, Cunningham thought, remembering the method of Russian tactics during World War II. Burying the enemy in bodies, was what some described it as.

Cunningham’s forces had attacked the few remaining Noria ships that had managed to escape from his attack the previous month in Afrikana, now he was clearing the rest of the Mediterranean Region of their navy to ensure that it would remain an Allied controlled region for the rest of the war. The few frigates and light cruisers that had been in the docks had been destroyed quickly prior to the attack, and the infiltration units that had been sent in the days prior to cause problems for Getov and Norian forces had been successful in many of their objectives.

Out in space, he watched as several of his battleships, cruisers, and destroyers bombarded the defenses on the planet surface, and the countless fighters and bombers entering the planet’s atmosphere and supporting the invasion.

He had seen the first wave of both invading forces, those of Albion and her empire, and those of the Americans, who were having to land in unfavorable weather conditions, but had proven to be a blessing. Many of the defenders had not expected an invasion to happen in such rough weather and both invading armies had made large gains in the first day of the invasion. At the end of the day, both American and Albion forces had set up beachheads and had begun advancing the following day.

“Admiral, we are receiving reports that Norian fighters and bombers are making attack runs on the beachheads,” an officer reported. “We are also receiving reports that Getov vessels are trying to get through the blockade that we’ve set up in the system.”

Cunningham knew better than the expect that either nation would sit back while the Allies invaded, but had done his best to ensure that none of their raiders would enter the area and disrupt operation on the surface. “Have another squadron of fighters sent down to the planet to provide the invasion with the air support they need. As to the Getov vessels, have the Achilles and Maddox reinforce the outer perimeter, but they start to encounter a harder push, have them pull back to the next defense point. I don’t want any of our ships to become isolated from the others.”

“Yes, Admiral” the officer replied, sending the message to the proper personnel.

Admiral Cunningham looked at the display showing the positions of the ships under his command, both those of Albion and the Americans. He could also see the progress that the Allies were making in the planet, and it was moving faster than expected. This was far better than what he had used back on Earth, and he could see the benefits of it. His ships were able to conduct precision bombardments on areas of the planet, much smaller than what would have happened on Earth, and he was able to see the progress that the commanders were making. He had the display zoom in on one particular army group. The Thirty-First Army Group was moving the fastest of almost all of them, except for one of the Americans, and Rommel was moving faster than the supplies could be moved forward. He had heard that his aggressiveness had caused that many times on Earth, but he didn’t expect it to be like this. He wondered what the men he commanded thought of him, and what he was experiencing on the planet now that he was back in the field. Probably enjoying the thrills of combat, he thought.

Sicily
50 Klics Outside Augusta


Rommel stoop with his head and shoulders out of the copula of the Albion modified Sherman tank. When he first heard that he was going to be commanding a Sherman, his memories of how it had a reputation of weak armor and an underpowered cannon came to mind, but upon finding out that this Sherman and the one he remembered were two completely different things Chianged his opinion. The tank he commanded had repulsorlifts, a single medium cannon that was of Albion origin, and two repeating blasters, one on the copula and the other beside the driver. The armor was lighter than those that belonged to Getov, but it had a shield generator and was fast enough to outflank other heavier tanks, a quality that he used extensively.

Rommel looked up at the sky and felt the sun on his face and the warmth of its heat. If he closed his eyes, he could almost believe that he was back on Earth commanding the Afrika Corp, but he wasn’t. He was here fighting against the allies of Getov, in order to bring an end to Hitler’s mad rule of his country. That was what he tried to convince himself, but it was still his country.

I wonder how the General Staff took my defection. Betraying your country was something that was looked down upon, not matter what his reasons were, but if it was to prevent that Austrian Corporal from killing his country, then maybe things could go better.

He adjusted the scarf that was around his neck, something that he found in his bags that he had brought with him after he had left for Albion. It was the same scarf that his daughter had made for him. Thinking of his daughter made him think about Walburga Stemmer, the seamstress whom he had had relations with before the Great War. He had originally planned on marrying her, but his mother forbade him to do it, and so he relented. That did not mean that he wasn’t going to take care of both of them, and he did, even go so far as to tell his wife and wanting to make sure that both Walburga and Gertrude were well. After Manfred was born, he had heard that Walburga had died from pneumonia, but he heard rumors that she had committed suicide. That had caused him to make sure to treat Gertrude like family, and make sure that nothing happened to her, legitimate or illegitimate be damned. The fact that she had not joined him in leaving for Albion was something that weighed heavy on him. He had made an attempt to try and have her removed from Getov as well, but so far, there had been no responses.

“The sooner this war ends, the better,” he said.

“Sir, I have to agree with you,” said his gunner.

Rommel grimaced, not realizing that he had been heard. “Yes, I know that my country has much to pay for in this war, and I want to ensure that my people do not pay the price for the actions of Hitler and his madmen.” He looked though the macrobinoculars to see how the battle was going.

The assault on Norian lines was doing well. His army had pierced their defenses after a short orbital bombardment and aerial attacks by fighters and bombers. It was a classic blitzkrieg attack and he knew that the Norian military’s equipment would not be able to stop his forces. Their gear was in as bad shape as he remembered from Earth. Good soldiers but bad equipment was a saying that he had heard more than once. He was also moving much faster than he had planned. When the Norian Army found out that he was leading the attack and pushing up to Catania, they began to surrender in droves. It had almost become bad enough that he didn’t know what to do with all of them. He decided to send them to the back and let them deal with the prisoners.

He brought up a small holomap that he carried with him and brought up the disposition of his forces. He had already managed to take Augusta, and was working his way to Catania, but things were beginning to Chiange. He had begun to receive reports that Getov forces were gathering to try and hold him before he could take the city, and the terrain was in their favor. There was a mountain range that narrowed their approach to a few passes, and orbital bombardment would be of little use and could probably be more beneficial to the defenders. He would have to try and get another invasion on that side of the planet to get them to pull back, but it would be difficult. There are whole areas of the planet that were calling for reinforcements.

He saw that this would be a difficult problem for him. He knew that Getov and Norian forces wouldn’t be able to reinforce the planet, but that meant that he would have to fight almost tooth and nail to get to the final; objective of Messina, and he needed to keep them off balance to ensure that they could take the system quickly. He had heard that the commander of the American army was making as much progress as he was, if not more. He had never met the commander, or been able to hear what his name was, but his aggressiveness was admirable. Rommel thought that maybe he could lend a hand to the American.

Rommel adjusted the frequency on his comm. “This is General Rommel, I need all artillery to focus on the area in front of us. Grid: Dog Thirty-Six, Able Two-Three-Five. I want all of the planet’s defender’s attention on this thrust. ”

“Acknowledged, General,” said the communications officer on the other end. “Confirming: Artilery fire on Grid: Dog Thrity-Six, Able Two-Three-Five.”

“Confirmed,” Rommel replied. “And see if you can get Admiral Cunningham to divert some of his fire in this area as well.” He soon received an acknowledgment and pulled himself back into the tank.

“Planning on using us as a distraction?” his gunner asked.

Rommel glanced at the sergeant and realized something: All NCO are the same no matter what army they are part of. Those that served under him always seemed to think they belonged on the General Staff, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t listen to their comments from time to time.

“Yes, I am.” Rommel look over at the sergeant. “They know that I am here, and they also know that I am a person they should pay attention to. If we make it seem like I am going to try a force a breakthrough, then maybe the Americans can have better success.”

December 8, 1945
Speyer, Germany


“Cheer up, George,” Major General Hobart Gay said as the chief of staff sat next to his commanding officer. “I invited you on this pheasant hunt to get your mind off of work.”

Lieutenant General George S. Patton sat next to him, holding the shotgun in a safe manner as the car bounced on the road. “I thank you for inviting me, Hobart, but since the war ended, I feel like I am just in the way of everything. I know I won’t be sent to the Pacific, and Truman is going to try and make sure that the Russians don’t do anything.”

General Gay noticed the tone that he had used in the last sentence. “You don’t think that they will be quiet for long?”

“Hell, no,” he said fervently. “They are nothing but drunks and have little value for human life. That leader of theirs: Stalin, will cause problems for us in the future, but I have a feeling that it will be a war that I will not be taking part in.”

The command car stopped at a railroad crossing, allowing a train to cross. While they waited, Patton looked over on the side and saw several derelict cars. “How awful war is. Think of the waste.” The car began to move when a deuce and a half suddenly appeared in front of them.

"Look out!" cried out General Gay, as the car braked suddenly to try and stop. The car wasn’t able to stop in time, and impacted with the truck at a low speed.

George Patton hadn’t been able to brace himself in time for the crash, and he had been thrown forward, hitting his head on what he believed to be the glass partition. He attempted to move, but he felt numb all over.

"Is everybody okay?" asked Private First Class Horace L. Woodring, the man who had been driving the generals. He had taken his eyes off the road for only a second, but that was all it had taken for him to miss seeing the truck.

"I am. Are you alright, George?” General Gay asked as he turned to look at his friend. He saw that the general was still slumped forward and he was bleeding from a gash on his head.

“Hobard,” Patton gasped. “I’m having trouble breathing, and I can’t move anything.”

“Shit,” said Woodring as he got out of the car. “Medic! I need a medic!”

“Don’t worry, George,” General Gay said reassuring his friend. “We’ll take care of you.”

For the next twelve days, General George Patton would lay in a hospital in Heidelburg trying to recover from his spinal cord injury, learning that he would never be able to ride a horse or resume a normal life again. Having his wife there with him was some comfort, but it did little for his spirits. “This is a horrible way to die,” is what he said to an orderly who had been attending to him.

One night, as he slept, he saw a light come towards him. He knew what it was, and he wondered if he would be sent into another life or if he would be seeing the Devine Creator.

 * * *

General Patton woke up, feeling a severe headache. It was as if his entire head was throbbing. “Goddamn doctors,” he said to no one in particular. Placing his hands on his head, in a futile attempt to ease the pain, he realized that he had moved his hands. He began to move other parts of his body and realized that he felt as if he hadn’t been in a car accident.

“Beatrice,” calling out to his wife, but there was no answer. Instead came in was General Hobart Gay.

“Are you alright, General? I heard you calling out your wife.”

“I’m fine, Hobart,” Patton said, assuredly. “In fact, I haven’t felt this good in a long time. What did te doctors do to help with my paralysis?”

Patton could tell that there was something wrong when Hobart’s face showed confusion. “What are you talking about, George? You haven’t been paralyzed. In fact, nothing has happened to you since we invaded Sicily.”

Sicily? Patton’s mind began to work in overdrive to try and understand what was going on. “Never mind, Hobart. It was probably just a vivid nightmare that I’m still trying to overcome.” He saw that Hobart seemed to accept this reason.

“Alright, George,” Hobart replied with a nod. “I’ll leave you alone. It’s going to be a while before we receive our next set of orders. All of your things are still on your desk as well.” He motioned toward his desk and saw a pile of what looked like tablets and some sort of screen.

“Thank you, Hobart. I’ll let you know if I need anything,” Patton said, getting up and stretching.

“Of course.” Hobart soon left, leaving Patton alone in the room.

The first thing Patton did was look through everything that wasn’t associated with those tablet, and found things that were very similar to what he carried when he was moving through North Africa and Sicily. His uniform was about the same, not to mention the medals, boots, and, surprisingly, a Colt pistol. However, he noticed that the pistol was much different from what he remembered. There were no rounds to put in it, just a large cartridge that went where the cylinder should be. He made a note to himself to take it out for a little test fire to see how it worked.

After looking over his personal affects, he read over what was on the “tablets” and what exactly was on them was surprising. The tablets contained information that showed he was taking part in the invasion of Sicily, but instead of an island, it was an entire planet. As if fighting over one planet was bad enough. He learned after reading more that there were several regions with dozens of planets. The whole sector that was call the Terran Sector seemed to be a scaled up version of Earth, but that wasn’t the biggest surprise in his research. The entire galaxy was up in arms, fighting what appeared to him to be the Civil War. The Galactic Republic with an army of copies called the “Grand Army of the Republic”, fighting against the Separatists who were calling themselves the “Confederacy of Independent Systems”.

The Republic and Confederacy, Patton though. It almost seemed as though all of those games that he and former Confederate General John Mosby played were coming back. He read on and saw that he was in command of the American Seventh Army, the very same one that he commanded on Earth. He was going to have to learn as much as possible about the technology that was available. Some of the things sounds like ideas out of those comic books that he saw soldiers reading in their spare time. Some of the tech would be beyond his understanding, but he knew he should be able to compare the basics: Artillery was artillery, infantry was infantry, and tanks were tanks, and boy did he like what he read about tanks. The Sherman tanks that he commanded were completely different than those from Earth, though they did share some similarities in appearance.

I’m going to have to look over everything and make sure that my tactics are still good enough. There was another question that he was curious about. Since he was refighting WWII, did that mean that he was destined to repeat the same mistakes of the past? Already, there were signs that things were changing. The invasion was moving faster than it was originally. It was only the beginning and already the Allies had made more progress than what should have been expected. Still, was he going to make the same errors like he did before? The slapping incident was something that he remembered vividly, and the way that he handled the press were things that stuck out in his mind.

I’ll see if I can prevent some mistakes, but I’ll deal with this one day at a time. He decided to sit down and read what he could about everything he commanded. Since he was waiting for orders from General Alexander, it might be best if he looked over the notes that his previous-self had put down.

Two days later


Patton had spent the last two days looking over everything, and the more he looked it over, the more he liked what was going on. The commander of the Albion army was making progress better than what Montgomery would have been able to do, and he was told to prepare to take the city of Palermo. He liked the technology that was there. Hovertanks, gunships, and blasters. All of this convinced him that maybe he could avoid all of those mistakes that ruined his image by the public, but that didn’t mean that he was going to Chiange the way he commanded. He spent time testing out several vehicles and found out that his command speeder was perfect, though he did take a couple of the Shermans on a test drive. The blaster cannons were amazing, and he started to wish that he had these back on Earth.

He shook his head at the thought. That was another life on another planet. Here: there was war, and not just on the planet or sector, but the entire galaxy. This was something that he was going to look forward to taking part in. He almost wished John Mosby was there with him.

“George!” came a familiar voice behind him. Patton looked to see General Hobart Gay coming up to him with a datacard, no doubt holding their orders.

“Are those our orders?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes, they are. You were right. Our objective is Palermo.”

A grin came across Pattons face. “Hot damn!” the smile threatening to take a life of its own. I’m going to make sure that I do this the right way. “What about that Albion commander? Is he still having the Getov defenders focus on him?”

Hobart nodded. “He is. He’s pushing slowly, but fast enough to make them think that he is trying to spearhead through their defenses. He’s convinced them enough to where the soldiers we’re facing would be second tier.”

“What about the Herman Goering Division?” Patton asked. “Are they still here or were they moved to try and stop the Albion push?”

“We don’t know, George,” he answered, shrugging. “Intelligence hasn’t been able to locate them, but that’s only because they can’t do any accurate scans of the area. The volcanic nature of the planet is messing with some areas. We do know that our friends in Albion Intelligence haven’t found any traces of them moving in their direction though.”

“I’m guessing they are being held in reserve in the event that we push in this direction,” Patton concluded. He look off into the distance before continuing. “Far enough away to where they won’t be destroyed in the first attack but close enough so that they would be able to respond to anything we do.”

“Sounds like a sound plan to me, George,” Hobart said. “I think we should keep our flanks on guard just in case they try to cut us off.”

Patton nodded. He had been planning for this, and now he was about to get his chance to take part in a galactic war. He couldn’t help smile at the thought. He wondered what sort of history this galaxy had, but he would have to do that another time. “Tell the men to mount up. We’ll be moving out in two hours.”

“Yes, sir, General,” Hobart said, saluting and turning to leave.

Patton smiled. A whole new war to fight, he thought. He pulled out his Colt blaster and checked it. It had similar functions to his old one, but it was able to fire far more shots than the six his originally had. He was also interested in meeting the Albion general. He fought much like how he did. Maybe after the planet was secured he could shake the man’s hand and thank him.

Chapter Text

30 April 1945
Berlin, Germany


Adolph Hitler, Fuhrer of the Greater German Reich and husband to Eva Braun, sat inside his bunker. Outside of the structure, the Soviet Red Army was blasting everything that stood in the once great city of Berlin. He wondered how things could have gone so wrong for him. Germany, a nation that had been only a weak and unfortunate shadow of its former Imperial self, had risen from the depths as a global power in only a few short years and had spanned across the European Continent, to the gates of Moscow, the deserts of Africa, and the English Channel.

It was all because of the Jews and their control of the American President and the leader of the Bolshevik Soviet Union. He didn’t understand why the Western Allies had sided with Stalin when they didn’t deserve to live in the first place. Couldn’t they see that his Germany was the only thing standing in the way of a global communist empire?

No… he thought to himself. The Jews in both those countries were too entrenched and were whispering into the ears of their leadership. They had turned the world against him. The Jews had even managed to infiltrate the leadership of his own army and had attempted to assassinate him, but it had failed like so many others and he had punished all of them: Beck, Lobe, Stauffenburg, Oster, Koch, and Rommel. All of them had been killed or imprisoned. He at least had the satisfaction of knowing they all would be burning in hell for their crimes against the German people. Thinking of their deaths brought up the deaths of those closest to him. Mussolini had been killed by his own people, and he knew that he faced a far worse death from the Bolsheviks if the reports were to be believed. Hitler looked down into his hand and saw the cyanide capsule. Beside him, his wife held one as well.

He looked over at his wife of only two days and smiled. He nodded his head and they both took the capsules. He bit down on his and he could smell burn almonds, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. He took the pistol that he always kept with him and help it to his head. Pulling the trigger his world soon went black, and in that moment, the evil that was Adolph Hitler left this world.

***

Hitler jolted awake, wondering just where he was. The room he was in looked similar to the ones he had stayed in during the earlier parts of the war, but that didn’t make any sense. That building was just a hallow shell. This building looked almost pristine. He placed his fingers on the spot where the bullet would have entered his head, not feeling anything. He got up and saw his clothes were laid out for him. Picking them up, he inspected them, wondering how something like this was possible. The room was almost exactly as he remembered, but there were some differences. Some of the fixtures were different and there were other minor discrepancies.

A knock soon came to the door before he could make closer observations of the room, followed by a voice calling out, “Mein Fuhrer, are you awake?”

Hitler was tempted to not answer, but his curiosity got the better of him. “Come in.” When the door opened, in came a man wearing a Nazi Party uniform, and who looked to be in perfect health and not starving as if living in a city under siege.

“Mein Fuhrer,” he said, giving the Nazi salute, which was quickly returned. “I hope that you are well. The rest of the staff will be coming this afternoon at One o’clock.”

“Uh, yes, of course,” Hitler said, playing along with the charade. “Can you please tell me who will be attending?”

“Members of the General Staff for both the Army and Navy, and members of the SS and Teutonic Knights.”

“Thank you,” Hitler replied. “Please have someone wait outside my door so that they may escort me to the meeting room.”

“Yes, Mein Fuhrer,” he said. He saluted Hitler, who returned it, and left the room.

Hitler was left alone, and unsure what to do, he decided to get dressed and head to the meeting area. Looking at himself in the mirror, he saw himself looking far better than he remembered. He wondered just what was behind this. Was it some sort of magic that was done toward the end of the war that allowed him to remember things in the past, or was it something else entirely? He didn’t know, something that he rarely experienced since becoming the head of the Nazi Party. Whether or no he knew what to expect, he decided that he would have to find out when the meeting began. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door, and saw a fellow Nazi standing beside the door.

Upon seeing Hitler open the door, the man stood at attention and saluted. “Heil Hitler!”

Hitler returned the salute and the two of them began the trip to the meeting room. As they walked, the Fuhrer noticed several other differences throughout the structure they were walking through, but none of them truly shocked him more than the actual meeting room itself. In the middle was a picture that was floating in the air.

“Will you be needing anything, Mein Fuhrer?”

Hitler was silent for several seconds, simply staring at the thing in front of him and trying to keep himself calm. After a few more seconds he finally said, “Please, bring be something to drink.”

“Yes, Mein Fuhrer.” The man turned and left.

Hitler walked closer to whatever it was in front of him and reached to touch it. His hand went through it, but it looked solid. What is this, and where the hell am I? When he took a closer look at he realized that there were words on it in German, and the names were all familiar to him. A map! He looked closer at the map, reading the names of several locations: Albion, Noria, Rarus, and several others. None of those names were familiar to him, but when he looked closer, he realized that other places were ones he was all too familiar with.

“It can’t be,” he said under his breath. Kursk, Moscow, Stalingrad, Sicily! It’s 1943 all over again! “Nein! Nein, nein, nein!”

“Mein Fuhrer,” said a voice behind him.

Hitler spun around, only to see a face that he was sure was supposed to be dead. Standing in front of him, a smile on his face, was Reinhard Heydrich. The man responsible for coming up with the Final Solution. The man looked almost exactly like him, but there were a few differences. He had scars across his face, no doubt from an explosion, but there was a calm about him that the one he knew didn’t have. There was also a look in his eye, one that was filled with a fire that Hitler was familiar with. One that he himself held. There was one other difference. Besides the usual pistol that he carried, there was also a small metal cylinder that was hanging on his belt.

“What are you doing here?” Hitler demanded, unbelieving that the man standing in front of him was real.

Heydrich simply smiled. “As leader of the Teutonic Knights for the Reich, I thought I would be best if I arrive before the others to ensure that you were safe. We cannot be sure that members of our military have fallen under the sway of the untermensch or if there are other members who are unfavorable with your leadership.”

Hitler immediately thought about the plot to assassinate him by members of the German High Command, and wondered if there were members of the military who were plotting against him here.

“Besides,” Heydrich continued to smile, “it was you who convinced me and several others to leave the Jedi Order and return to the Fatherland.”

Jedi Order? At that moment, a servant came out with a tray with a couple of teacups with a single teapot in the middle, along with the usual condiments. He set it down on a table and was soon dismissed from the room. “Yes, of course.” Hitler walked over to the tray, trying to control himself and his voice. “Tell me, Heydrich” he said as casually as he could, “what do you think of this whole war? Since you are here early, I would like the opinion of a former Jedi of our stances in this conflict for Ledensraum, and what you think of the Allies. Perhaps you can give me some insight that I might have missed in the past.”

The former Jedi nodded. “Of course,” he said, walking over to the tray and picking up the other teacup. “Tell me, what would you like to know?”

Chapter Text

Year 13, Month 06, Day 20
Ordel System
Getov occupied Rarus Federation


General Walther Model was not a happy man. When he had committed suicide at the end of the Second Great War, he had hoped that he wouldn’t be punished for his actions during that conflict, but instead, when he had awaken in this new place, he found himself fighting the Soviets, and after the battle at Kursk, except he wasn’t just commanding ground forces, but space forces as well.

I’m not a naval commander. I’m a ground commander. Why would I be in command of vessels? He didn’t have time to think of this, because he was currently dealing with a Rarus attack on the system that he was in. He had just fortunate that his counterpart had set up an elaborate defense network that was allowing him to hold them back and allow his forces to retreat. He took one last look at the map, showing the situation that the system. The outer defenses were holding, allowing for others within the region to withdraw in an orderly fashion. It was surprising just how similar this whole battle was to the one he fought on Earth, but none of his experience or knowledge helped in Changing the fact that Getov forces were on the defensive now.

The battle had begun with a massive barrage along the Upper and Forward border with the Rarus lines. Hundreds of turbolaser, missiles, and torpedoes had attacked the lines that were to be held by his forces. From the prisoners that had been taken, the Rarus High Command had expected to take the system within a few days, but they were instead having to fight a space version of the infamous trench warfare that was the nightmare of all soldiers. Some of the areas along the perimeter had been breached, with the Rarus military making large gains, but they only encountered the second and third layer defenses.

Thank the Fuhrer my counterpart had the sense to do that. Model did not like to think what could have happened if Rarus had been successful. Some of the naval commanders had been successful in pushing the Bolshevik forces back, and the planets they had landed on were turning into killing fields.

That had only been in the first few days, but now, the Rarus military was starting a broad offensive along the entire system, sending far more ships than could be stopped. Model had been forced to send what reserve forces he had, and some that he technically didn’t command, into the fray. This had resulted in pushing several Rarus breakthroughs back beyond their starting point, but he knew that it had been only a temporary victory, and it would result in the same result as before.

Model just pinched the bridge of his nose, unable to figure out what to do in the situation that was like a nightmare. Too many lives and materiel lost, and I am almost certain that the Fuhrer will not allow for us to retreat, Model thought. He had the utmost respect for Hitler, and this one was no different from the one on Earth, but he had very little respect for his tactical knowledge of the battlefield. (Model did not know of the opinion many of his own subordinates had a negative view of him as a micromanager).

“General, we have a message for you from Field Marshal Manstein.” A subordinate came up to him, holding a datapad in his hand.

Model took the datapad and read the message, a look of surprise coming to his face that the communication officer would remember for a long time. This can’t be right, Model thought, trying to grasp the true meaning of the message. A retreat for all forces to fall back to the Dnieper? This did not sound like the Hitler that he had known from Earth. According to what he remembered, he shouldn’t have to fall back for a few more weeks, but this was unexpected. This would allow for them to save countless lives and material that could not be easily replaced, not to mention reduce the amount of territory they would have to defend. What he didn’t like was that it gave the Rarus another victory that would result in a higher morale for the Red Army and a blow to the Reich’s, but wouldn’t it be worse if Kursk had been a total defeat? The messages also dictated that the withdrawal was to be subtle, to allow the Rarus military to believe that they were still fighting to the death. This was to allow Getov forces to build up the Dnieper perimeter. Easier said than done. He would have to ensure that something like this was done properly, and the proper steps were taken to ensure that the charade was convincing enough to occupy the enemy long enough.

“Lieutenant,” Model turned to face the communications officer, “I want you to pass this message to my commanders: They are to begin preparations for a withdrawal from the system. It is to be done subtly, so ensure that they take the proper steps. I don’t want the Bolsheviks catching wind of this. Use our best encryption, and tell them that I will be passing them more information as time permits.”

“Yes, Herr General,” the captain said, taking down the message. He read it back, to ensure that it was written properly and was approved by Model before he began to transcribe it for a message to his subordinates.

Model turned to look back at the map to see that his forces were managing to hold what they had been assigned, but Rarus reinforcements were beginning to make another push to regain the initiative within the system, and it did not look like the defenders would be able to hold them for long. He would have to think of something to delay them for as long as possible. Forces within the inner parts of the system would normally be the first to go, but they would have be rotated with some of the forces that were fighting along the front. This would hopefully allow some of the more experienced and exhausted formations from being killed off uselessly. He would them make sure that the planets would lose any usefulness by taking or destroy as much infrastructure as possible.

He had also heard new from colleagues that were fighting in the Mediterranean Region that had him a little worried. Reports had come in that the Allies had invaded Sicily. Normally that would not have been such bad news, but what disturbed him was that Erwin Rommel, the “Desert Fox” and one of the best field commanders known, was fighting for the Allies. He didn’t know if the Fuhrer had any plans for him, but he hoped that the SS or someone had a plan to remove him before he became a bigger problem.


This war will be even bloodier than the last one, he though. Even with the knowledge of how things happened, it’s no guarantee that it will happen again. Once again, General Walther Model cursed the war and the situation that he was in, and he also cursed whatever had caused him to come to this galaxy in the first place.

Chapter Text

Year 13, Month 6, Day 32
Catania, Allied occupied Sicily
Norian Empire


General Erwin Rommel looked through the binoculars at the Getov perimeter, the last major line of defenses on the planet. His actions of having the defenders place all of their attention on him had allowed the American commander to make enormous progress in his push. Rommel thought about the plan he had thought up. He knew that Getov High Command would see him as the biggest threat and focus everything on him. He used that to his advantage and made several “attempts to advance”, but it was all a deception to give the Americans the chance to take more territory and reduce Getov and Norian capabilities on the planet.

In only a week, the Americans had managed to take Palermo and the surrounding regions of the planet, with the American commander pushing his soldiers to keep the enemy off balance. It was a tactic that Rommel himself would have done, but he knew that it was best to keep Getov soldiers thinking that he was the person to focus on. Admiral Cunningham had prevented enemy reinforcements from landing on the planet, and reducing any defenses that they did had to rubble. The Norian Navy had been reduced in number to where they had only a few heavy cruisers and a battleship, and they were being used for planetary defense, with the Getov fleet was having troubles with Allied pickets that had been set up in the system. General Alexander had been providing reinforcements and coordinating the smaller invasions on the planet, allowing for more and more spaceports to fall to the Allies.

The only problem there was for the invasion was that the Getov forces had managed to set up a shield that was over the final region of the planet. It stretched from the Edna Plateau to the city of Messina, the final large spaceport on the planet and holding the Herman Goering Division. Orbital bombardments had proven ineffective against the shield and other weaponry, but scouts had been able to penetrate the shield by simply walking through it. Those scouts had pointed out several blind spots in the perimeter and they were going to help lead the way for the thrusts into the last stronghold of Sicily.

“General Rommel,” said a junior officer, walking up to the general. “I have a message for you from General Alexander.” He held out his hand, holding a datacard in it.

Rommel took his eyes off the shield and turned to face the officer. “Thank you,” he said, a slight smile on his face as he took the datacard and placed it into his datapad. Reading the message on it, it said that the operation had been approved and Admiral Cunnningham would be sending ships in orbit over the region to ensure that none escaped. They had been fortunate enough to have moved too fast for either Noria or Getov to send vessels to evacuate any of the military around Messina. “Let the communications officer know that we acknowledge the orders given to us and we will proceed in at dawn tomorrow.”

The young officer saluted. “Yes, sir.” He turned and left the general.

Rommel looked around him and saw dozens of men. Some of them cleaning their weapons while others were working on the vehicles they fought from. Others, they just relaxed, a few were trying to catch some much needed sleep. There was a group who were playing a game of cribbage. When he walked by any of them, asking how they were, they all had a look that he knew all too well. It wasn’t of scorn or distrust, but that of respect. He had fought with them men. He fought with them from his tank, a practice that he didn’t take part in often, but it was enough to show that he was one of the fighting men, and one who took care of the soldiers under him. He also made sure that POWs were treated well, a trait that he extended to everyone, though he wasn’t sure how he would handle those of the SS.

He had made it a habit that every few days, he would walk around the camp to see how his men were doing. He would talk with some of them, and ask how their families were doing. Sometimes he would hear a complaint but they were usually nothing serious. It was a routine that he enjoyed, and honestly, he still marveled at the wonders that were around him. He even saw the sector’s equivalent of ancient Roman ruins on the planet, and he wondered just what things were like for them in space. He made a note to himself to read up on the history of this region, and the galaxy at large when the war was over. The tanks were fun to command, but probably his greatest enjoyment was flying the fighters and gunships that were used by the Albion military.

He smiled when he thought back to when he asked for lessons from an Albion pilot, named Buckley, who was more than happy to do it after Rommel offered to pay for the lessons out of his own pocket. Rommel did make a point to keep it secret, to ensure that Norian or Getov fighters didn’t try to shoot him down. The first few flights had been familiarization for him, and Lieutenant Buckley proved to be a very good teacher. His first time piloting it himself proved to be a fascinating experiences, at least until the controlling authority of the fighters ordered for them to return and explain why they were wasting the resources of Rommel’s army and threatened to have those onboard thrown into the stockade. Both of them made a point not to tell the officer that Rommel was on board. When they had landed, the officer himself, a colonel, was clearly upset, holding a datapad and having two military policemen with him to arrest the joyriders. The colonel’s reaction at seeing Rommel step off the plane was a sight to be seen, especially after the officer attempted to salute but forgot that he held a datapad in his hand and hit himself in the head.

Rommel and Buckley had laughed a little at the colonel’s expense and told him that the matter should be dropped. The colonel had made a fool of himself and was happy to leave them as the maintenance crew came up to work on the fighter. The MPs, however, would have a very interesting story to tell in the Officers Mess. After a few hours later, the entire camp was talking about it. Rommel chuckled at the memory. It was things like that that you wanted to remember from war. However, he had to remind himself that there was still a battle to be fought, and it would be the toughest one yet.

After his tour of the camp, he returned to his tent. There, his adjutant was working at his desk. “How was your stroll around the camp, General?” Mason asked.

“Pleasant,” he replied. “I just got word from General Alexander. We’re to begin with the operation at 0600 tomorrow.”

Major Mason took a deep breath upon hearing that. “How tough are we expecting this fight to be?”

Rommel was wondering that himself. “They’ll be on their last legs. They have nowhere to go and they know it. They will either fight to the death or surrender. Let’s not forget the Herman Goering Division that has managed to survive this entire campaign.” Intelligence reports stated that they were being held in reserve when who the Allies eventually broke through.

Mason only nodded. “Well, general, you are one of the best, and the American general is doing a fine job himself. I would have to say he is almost as good as you are.”

“Yes, he is well versed in tactics, and is one of the most aggressive commanders I have ever seen,” he said, looking at the holomap of the upcoming battle. His command style seems familiar, but I can’t place on who is reminds me of. When this is all over, I have to meet this man and congratulate him on a successful campaign.

***

Santo Stefano
Sicily


General George Patton felt more alive than he did before. Beside the fact that the body he was in was free of the many aches and pains that he had known, he commanded the greatest army in the sector, and possibly the galaxy if he kept his record. Waking up in this new world, what caused him the most fear was whether or not he was destined to repeat the mistakes that he had in the past, and he was determined to try and avoid those. One incident that he made sure to avoid was in the city of Nicosia. He recognized a young private who was sitting in the corner, holding himself. When he had walked up to the private and asked what was wrong with him, he replied, “I guess I can’t take it anymore”. Patton remembered what he had done back on Earth and almost did it again. Instead, he placed a hand on the private’s shoulder and told him, “It’s okay, son. Just get better.”

Patton later talked with medical doctors about his condition, and learned that it was far more common than he realized. To think I used to consider cowardice, he though after being given an explanation by a doctor. He never truly met his breaking point. That was what made him such a great commander, but he supposed that not everyone was like him. Men like me are few and far between. Maybe it is for the best. Patton promised himself that he would treat his men well. He would still push them hard to be the best, but he would also make sure that “combat stress” would become less of a problem for his men. He didn’t need his soldiers cracking under the strain when every moment could be life or death.

One of his biggest shocks upon arriving in this galaxy were the aliens. He had figured that with galactic civilizations, that there would be alien races, but expecting didn’t prepare him for when he first encounted them. The first group he had met had been small, numbering a little over fifty that had a small camp that had been near one of the villages. Some of their garb reminded him of gypsies, but they had been very little trouble, and had even been helpful in passing information to his soldiers about Getov and Norian movements. He had later learned that these aliens were called Ryn and were known as the wanderers of the galaxy, and were really no different from humans. This made him begin to rethink some of his personal beliefs on humanity in general, and he had made a point to try and study on the alien races of the galaxy. With a war to fight, however, he was focused more on removing the last of the Getov from Sicily.

He was standing at a makeshift shooting range, a place for the soldiers to keep their proficiency with their rifles. Patton had fired many of the weapons that the American, Albion, and Getov armies, all of them looking similar to those on Earth, but he still favored the Garand Blaster Rifle, and he always carried his Colt Pistol. It was much like the one on Earth, down to the ivory handle. He was using this pistol, aiming at a target twenty yards away. He took a breath and let it out slowly, firing five quick shots in succession. All of the bolts hit the same spot on the target.

Not bad, he thought to himself as he took a closer look at his target. He had been practicing more than he would have thought, even taking potshots at Norian and Getov fighters that flew through the air when they had the opportunity.

The invasion had moved much faster than it was expected. What was expected to be a month-long campaign was a week ahead of schedule, no doubt because of the aggressiveness of himself and the Albion commander. He was nothing like Montgomery, and was far more tactful. He planned on meeting him when they met at Messina.

Right now, he was waiting for news to come up about the next, and final, push that would wipe out the Axis forces on the planet and set the way for the invasion of the main area of Europa. His part of pushing along the northern settlements of the planet had been easier than he had expected. Whoever was the Albion commander, he was a big target for the Getov forces, and they were throwing everything they could at him. This allowed Patton to move forward almost unopposed, but he was itching for a pitched battle. He knew that the Herman Goering Division was somewhere beyond the Edna Plateau. Behind that damned energy shield. Scouts had been sent in to determine what the defenders had, and he also knew where some of the possible ambush sites were. That gave him an edge, but the passes were bottlenecks for his forces, and he would need some way to ensure that they wouldn’t be decimated.

“General Patton, I have a message for you from General Alexander,” sad a voice behind him.

Patton returned his blaster to its holster and turned to see a junior officer carrying a datapad. “Thank you.” He took it and read the message. Begin attack at 0600 tomorrow. Patton handed the datapad back and dismissed the officer. The shields would prevent any sort of bombardment from be successful unless he could bring in the artillery under the shield, but they were too slow and cumbersome. The Thunderbolt gunships would be able to do the job, if they could avoid being shot down by the air defenses that had been set up.

Patton swore under his breath. If only he could get some commandoes to breach the shield and destroy the generator, but it was too well guarded and there were too many unknowns to make it successful. He would likely have to send in the gunships to take out the outer defenses and then the ground forces. After they pushed far enough, the fighters could begin to make advances. He was just thankful that the navy was keeping any from escaping, and they should be able to keep it that way if everything worked out, but Patton knew that plans rarely survived contact with the enemy.

For the rest of the day and into the evening, final preparations were made. Soldiers were put into their staging areas, vehicles were put in formations, and patrols were set up to ensure that Getov and Norian forces didn’t know what would be coming. Patton was up for most of the night to ensure that things were taken care of and his soldier ready for the upcoming battle. He knew that things would not be easy but this successful invasion would be the first step in the liberation of Europa, and he was going to make sure that he survived to see the end of it, and explore this galaxy.

At 0700 the following morning, gunships flew overhead, tanks and other vehicles moved forward, and the final battle to take Sicily began.

Year 13, Month 6, Day 33
San Fratelo, Sicily


Explosions were going off all around him as his armored units moved forward through the trench lines. In his command vehicle, Patton watched as his forces moved through the defensive lines. The plan was going well. The defenders were caught off-guard when his forces exploited several holes in their perimeter that his scouts had pointed out. The chokepoints had been a difficult barrier, and he had suffered heavy losses trying to get through them, but the Thunderbolt gunships had been a godsend. They were able to stick close to the columns and ensure that they would make it through the passes and into open ground. He had his infantry supporting them, with air support, both gunship and fighter.

“General, Eighth Infantry Battalion is reporting signs of armored units preparing to hit us on our right flank,” said his communications officer.

Patton smiled a predatory smile. “Must be elements from the Herman Goering Division. They want to try and hit our flank and crush us against the mountains.” He looked at the holoscreen to see what was in the field. “Have our artillery and air support harry them for few minutes, and then send the Seventh Armored move up to hit them make sure they have plenty of air cover, I won’t want our boys to be naked out there.”

“Yes, sir,” he comm officer said as he began working on it immediately.

Patton shifted his map to another region of the planet. He saw that Albion’s military was moving quickly, almost as fast as he was going. He could see that there were no towns ahead of them to fight through, so that gave them a good chance of beating him to Messina. I’ll be damned if I allow some limey bastard beat me to the end. Even if he is a good commander. The next town in front of Patton was named Brolo, and he was going to make sure that he took it. He had requested for both Cunningham and Alexander to send an invasion for there to cut off the Getov line of retreat, but so far, he hadn’t been able to receive any sort of answer.

“Sir, gunships and fighters are beginning their attack run on the armored units that were massing,” his comm offered reported. “You were right. It’s the Herman Goering Division.”

Hot damn, he thought. Time to test myself against the best on the planet. “Tell our forward units to keep advancing. We are not going to allow Getov to counterattack. I want air support to focus on that armor and have our artillery divert some fire in that area as well. Also, move some of our reserves to that flank. I want as little chance as possible for them to break through our lines.”

Edna Plateau, Sicily


General Rommel stood with his head out the copula as his tanks moved forward. He saw APCs, tanks, gunships, and fighters moving forward. This was to be the final push to take the city of Messina and secure the planet for the Allies, but the defenders were fighting tooth and nail and making it as costly as possible. The shield over this area of the planet was making the advance more akin to how it was on Earth, with no orbital support whatsoever, but that just made the fighting more familiar to him. Some fighters and bombers had attempted to make a run on the shield generator, but the defenses surrounding it had been too strong. They were able to report that a few transports were still at the spaceport, but what they were planning to do with them was an unknown. Maybe attempt a last ditch escape attempt? Getting though this defensive line would allow for them to move faster, before Getov forces could respond properly.

Explosions began to erupt around them and Rommel buttoned up inside of the Sherman. “Getting a little too warm out there, General?” asked the gunner of the tank.

Rommel shifted in his seat, a far more comfortable accommodation than what he remembered from Earth. “Yes, it was.” He paused before continuing, “I feel sorry for the infantry out there.”

His gunner just nodded at the statement. “Yes, they envy us for our protection, but all that does is make us a magnet for everything else on the battlefield.”

No sooner had that come from his mouth that Rommel spotted a tank coming out from behind a ruined bunker. “Panzer! Ten o’clock!”

“Identified,” answered the gunner, bringing the gun onto target.

“Fire!” Rommel ordered, and the cannon roared as a burst came from the tank that was now a burned piece of slag. “Hit!”

“That’s another one for us,” His driver said as they continued to move forward. “It’s almost too easy. Norian tanks are almost nothing compared to these.”

Rommel soon began to hear chatter on his radio. “This is Lighting One, what was that?”

There was static on the other side before he could hear an answer. “I repeat, it looks like there is a whole damned division coming our way. It’s the Herman Goering Division! They’re coming forward to reinforce the line at grid Dog Five.”

Rommel brought up his map to see the referenced grid, and saw that it was the one adjacent to the one he was operating in. “Copy that. I’ll be diverting air support to your location ASAP.” He made the appropriate call and a few minutes later, he could see fighters moving through the sky. His map began to show the status of the fight in that area and it wasn’t good for the armored elements that were trying to hold the line. Without air cover, they were vulnerable and almost unable to respond in any way. Some fighters and bombers were brought down by sheer luck but overall, it was almost unfair.

The fire began to taper off and Rommel took this chance to look outside the copula again. He was surprised to see that the ground wasn’t as damaged as it had been the last time and he looked at his map to see where he was. “We’re through.”

“What was that, General?” he gunner asked.

Rommel ignored him and switched his radio to all channels of Albion in the area. “This is Lightning One: We have achieved breakthrough.” He looked at his gunner to see a large grin on his face.

“Bloody good to hear,” his gunner said. “Let’s see if we can beat that Yank general to Messina. We’ve heard him boast about it enough.”

Rommel smiled and nodded. With the line broken, it would only be a matter of time before other elements of his army make it through. After that, the defenders could either surrender or retreat. He was hoping for surrender, because he did not want to have to deal with these soldiers again in the future battle for the city of Messina.

Chapter Text

Year 13, Month 06, Day 34
Kursk System
The Rarus Federation


General Zhukov looked over the display of the Kursk system. The entire battle had been a bloodbath. Hundreds of thousands of people, ships, fighters, and other material had been used and a large portion had been lost or damaged, but the battle had been won. The fascists had made several attempts to try and take the system, but they had all failed. Konev’s “timely” arrival had ensured that the Lower Perimeter would hold and would bleed them white, and it had been successful to where they stopped all offensive operations in that area of the system and tried to hold what they had gained.

That was when Operation Kutuzov had begun along the Upper Perimeter; the objective: push the Hitlerites out of the Kursk System, and the operation had been a success. In the beginning, the overwhelming numbers of his forces had torn several breaches into their defenses around Kursk, and while some of their ships had attempted to seal the gaps, none of them had been able to stop the tide of near endless soldiers. This resulted in the fascists having to pull all of their forces off the Upper Perimeter and out of the system to avoid losing all of them. This allowed those that had been part of the counteroffensive time to regroup and move toward the Lower Perimeter. The next step for the operation was the retaking of the Orel System. However, Zhukov had been unable to recall all of the events from his battle on Earth, and it had resulted in several days of pitched fighting where Rarus forces had been pushing against the defenses of the Hitlerites.

Forces that had been on standby, waiting for the word to attack, were unleashed against the Ordel System. The system had been heavily defended, and was under the command of a name that Zhukov easily recognized: Walter Model, the infamous defensive warfare specialists was in command of the defenses of that system, and had proven to be just as good, if not better, than his counterpart on Earth. As if Manstein wasn’t bad enough, Zhukov thought as he looked at a display of the system of his inner thoughts. The fight for that system had lasted close to two weeks, with the outnumbered Getov forces holding back numerically superior opponents. He expected the fight to last at least another week at least, but the defenders appeared to be losing ground faster than expected. He first thought that it was because they were losing more of their ships over the intense fighting, but as his ships moved passed the defenses, he realized that he had been wrong. Some of the stations had exploded, and he originally thought that it had been an accident of some kind. When it happened several more times, he understood that the defenders had left the system earlier than they had to.

Several of the structures scattered throughout the system had been booby-trapped, and that resulted in the loss of thousands of personnel and materiel. Not to mention the spacemines that had been left in parts of the system, and that reduced their movements considerably. Damn that Model. The Ordel System was key to spreading to other parts of the occupied territories, but these minefields were causing him to lose the initiative and allowing the fascists to escape. He was hoping to have them off-balance to allow for the liberation of Belya Rus and Leningrad, but this setback was causing him problems.

Zhukov, having looked at the status of his forces in the Orel System long enough, turned his attention toward what had been the Kursk Lower Perimeter. Casualties along that front had been bad, even by his standards. The reserve forces sent in by Konev had prevented a possible breakthrough that Manstein had no doubt thought was going to succeed, but Manstein’s forces had hit a wall indead and had been pushed out of the system entirely. The forces in command of the Lower Perimeter had spent weeks regrouping and rearming for what would eventually become Operation: Polkovodets Rumyantsev, but the situation in Orel had caused him to wonder if the same thing had happened in the Kharkov system.

He sent one of the few surviving stealth raiders that were in the Red Navy to investigate the system, and he did not like what had been reported to him. The entire system had been left abandoned, but with the same situation as Orel: booby-traps, minefields, and there were even some “partisans” from their SS that were causing problems for the clearing operations of the system. In fact, with everything that was happening, clearing both systems would take at least a month, and that was time that they did not have. Stalin would want a continuous offensive until all of Rarus territory as liberated, and he knew how the “Man of Steel” treated those who had failed him.

Zhukov brought the situation map out of the system and onto the greater front as a whole. He had sent several scouts into occupied territory, to see what the fascists were doing, but the four systems that were outside of his perimeter were almost completely unmanned. There were little to no ships there. His scouts reported several vessels within those systems, but none of them could account for the fleets that he knew that Manstein still commanded.

Where the hell are those ships? He didn’t like the feeling of all of this. This was completely out of character from what he remembered. He recalled how Hitler had forbade his commanders from retreating in battle. The Soviet Union had benefitted greatly from this, from Stalingrad to the steppes of Western Russia, those follies had allowed thousands of German soldiers to die when they could have fallen back and regrouped. Instead, these fascists were doing the unexpected.

Zhukov’s thought were interrupted when a junior officer walked up to him. “Comrade General, I have the latest message from our scouts.” In his hand was a databad.

Zhukov took it and dismissed the officer. When he was alone he looked over its contents and then back at the map. Large concentrations of Getov forces along the Dnieper? He brought up that area of the map and looked it over. Along that line were several systems. Some of them important like Kiev, while there were other small insignificant and had only one way in for hyperspace routes. That allowed the fascists to concentrate their defense around a few key systems, and with a month to prepare, he didn’t want to know just what could be done in that time.

He shook his head and let out a sigh. This was not how things were supposed to happen, and now things were Changing and he didn’t know how predict them. First there was Model falling back, and then Manstein doing the same. This wasn’t how events were supposed to happen. He knew that Hitler was the only one who could issue an order for them to retreat. That was when a worrisome thought came to him. Could another have come here? Could he have come here? It was possible, or perhaps someone who could influence him? “No,” he whispered. “No one can truly control that madman.”

This was something that would have to think about, but he needed Konev here as well. Both of them having knowledge about possible outcomes was useful in their discussions, and General Konev was in the system. He had to be careful with the NKVD, though. He knew all too well the reputation they had earned and he did not want to become a person of interest more so than he already was. I will have to tread carefully. Konev and I will have to speak face to face to ensure that our discussions are not observed.

Zhukov prepared to send a message to his old friend and took one last at the map of the front. He had more worrisome though. Who else could be here?

Chapter Text

Year 13, Month 06, Day, 34
100 Klics Outside Messina
Sicily System, Norian Empire


General Patton could see the outskirts of the city in the distance, and smiled at just how far he had come. He conquered a planet, a feat that he would never have expected while back on Earth, and he was damn proud of himself. He held against the flank attack by the Herman Goering Division and when General Alexander and Admiral Cunningham launched an invasion on the city of Brolo, the division had to pull back or risk being cut off. Patton took that chance to chase after them, not giving them the opportunity to regroup and it resulted in them being push all the way back to the outskirts of Messina. He could see the shield generator, the lines of defenses that the defender had put up, and even some of the few fighters and gunships that had managed to survive Allied attacks. He could also see the spaceport, and while most of the hangars were empty, he could see a few transports that looked to be in the final stages of launch.

I bet they’re waiting for a chance to try and escape, Patton thought to himself. He knew that the remnants of the Herman Goering Division were there, and the Albion commander was on the other side of the city, waiting for the order to attack. This last push would secure the final stronghold on Sicily, and would hopefully lead to the invasion of occupied Europa. He was curious as to what would happen after that, but he could worry about that later. He had a battle to win.

He heard a beeping go off and reached down to grab his comlink. He was still getting used to having a personal radio, and while he saw the benefits of something like it, he sometimes thought it was more of an annoyance than anything else. He couldn’t get any true privacy, and he couldn’t avoid subordinates with mundane tasks that needed his help. “General Patton, speaking,” he said gruffly, hoping that it would intimidate whoever it was on the other side not to bother him.

“General, I have a message for you from General Alexander,” the man replied. Patton’s interest was piqued. “He says to commence operations in two hours, General.”

“Thank you.” Patton switches his comlink to a different frequency and routs it to General Gay. “Hobart, let the commanders know that we will be moving out in two hours.” He heard an acknowledgement and he began to leave the lines and head back toward headquarters, and from there he would lead his men toward victory.

Two hours and fifteen minutes later


Patton sat in his command speeder as the artillery fired onto the enemy positions in front of him. Fifteen minutes was the amount of need that would be needed to keep the enemy’s head down and not alert them enough to where reinforcements could be brought in. He had also heard reports that the Albion commander was doing the exact same thing. He couldn’t help but smile at the aggressiveness of his Albion counter-part. It was going to be a race to see who could secure the city first. Focusing on the map, he watched as the timer reached zero. The artillery fire soon stopped and the sound of engines roared as hundreds of tanks, APCs, speeders and aircraft sped forward against the defensive line around Messina. He could see the status of each one of his formations that he commanded, and with so much information, it was hard to keep track, but it was like being a god. He would have to trust his men to know what they were doing.

For over an hour, he watched as his men advanced forward, and suffered casualties, with some of them experiencing over ten percent casualty rates. It was to be expected in war, as were the mass surrenders that he was beginning to see. At first, he began to receive reports of small groups of soldiers surrendering. Usually groups no bigger than two or three, but those were unfortunately killed because it would slow down the advance. However, he began to receive reports of whole platoons surrendering. He was having to divert some of his reserves to handle the number of prisoners they were beginning to receive, but that just allowed for more of his men to continue fighting while the enemy gradually became weaker. Most of those that were surrendering were Norian defenders, but Getov were beginning to make up larger numbers of prisoners.

“General, we’re getting reports of ambushes on several of our tank formations in the city,” General Gay reported.

“Tell the armor to hold position until the infantry can catch up and support them,” he replied, remembering how urban warfare was not suitable for armor. “I don’t want to lose any more because of them not being supported. What about the Albion forces?”
“They appear to be doing the same thing, George,” he replied. “Their advance has slowed down considerably since entering the city.”

“What’s the status of their anti-air defenses? Can we get that shield generator down?” Patton knew that it would make their job much easier if they could get some support from the navy.

“Their firing appears to be lessening since the beginning of the battle, though they could be playing it safe until we get overconfident,” Hobart explained.

Patton knew that was possible, but right now, they needed to shorten this battle. Too many casualties and he could end up like Germany after Stalingrad. He would have to take the risk. “Call in every fighter that isn’t assigned to a task and have it move to take out that generator. Gunship, fighter, bomber, I don’t care, just get it done!”

“Yes, General,” Hobart replied quickly, and began to issue orders.

Patton stuck his head out of the command speeder to see the city in the distance; the puffs of smoke from anti-air artillery and bolts from laser batteries were flying up from the many buildings. It was like some sort of combination of his memories of Earth with a futuristic spin. He didn’t know how long he was staring off, but a rumbling above him drew his attention. In the sky, he could see scores of American aircraft flying overhead. As they entered the city, laser bolts, rockets, and even a few what Patton assumed to be turbolasers firing at the craft. Several tried to take evasive maneuvers as they were shot at. Some were successful, while others were not. He watched as a gunship was blown out of the sky when a rocket hit the fuselage, but for every aircraft that was brought down, five others made it through. After several minutes, the bubble that they had been fighting under them suddenly began to recede.

“George, aircraft are reporting that the shield generator has been destroyed. They also report that the secondary generator has been hit,” Hobart reported.

“Hot damn,” Patton said, a smile on his face. “This should show those bastards they can’t stand against us.”

“Sir, might I make a suggestion?” General Gay asked. Patton nodded and he continued. “We could offer the commander of the defending forces the chance to surrender. This Chiange in their defenses should show that they can’t resist us. It would also allow us to save the lives of our men by not having them fight house to house.”

Patton thought about it for a few seconds before making his decision. “Do it, then. Send them the message, and inform our Albion friend as well.”

Patton knew that the loss of the shield should prove that there is no chance they could defend the city properly. After several minutes, Patton saw that there was activity happening at the space port, and watched as five transports took off, all of them showing the cross of Getov. “Get Cunningham on the line,” Patton barked. “Tell him he’s got a couple of runners heading off the planet, and have our fighters see if they can discourage them from making it into space.”

Three Hours Later


Patton, along with several of his staff, a company of soldiers, and three platoons of tanks advanced into the city of Messina. There was no more fighting. While there was the occasional soldier who refused to surrender, the general in command of the city’s defenses surrendered after the loss of the shield generator and the destruction of the Nazis ships that had attempted to leave the planet. Here, he was to meet the commander of Albion forces and receive the official surrender from the Getov commander. As he and his escort entered the city center, Patton saw that the Albion commander and his escort were entering at the same time. He took that moment to hop out of his speeder, and was surprised to see the Albion commander to the same. As they both walked toward each other, Patton couldn’t help but notice that the man in front of him looked familiar. As they got closer, he realized that it was the last person he would have expected to see in an Albion uniform.

In front of him walked Erwin Rommel.

The shock must have been showing on his face, because he noticed Rommel looking at him funny, and then a smile showed on his face. One that of humor. When they were close enough, they stopped and Rommel was the first to speak.

“General Patton.”

Patton was quiet, not sure how to respond to this. He had spent the last few years of his life fighting against the man standing in front of him. “General Rommel.”

Both men stood there, trying to size each other up. Patton’s surprise still evident on his face as he tried to understand how this was possible. A hundred sentences were started in his brain, but he spoke nothing. Eventually he managed to blurt out the first thing that came to his mind. “I read you book.”

Rommel smiled, nodding his head slightly before saying, “And I, yours, General.” He then extended his hand. “Surprised to see me?”

Patton reached out, took his former enemy’s hand, and shook it. “Um, Yes, General. I am.”

Rommel merely nodded. “There will be plenty of time to talk about all of this later.” He turned his head to see the Getov commander exit the government building they were in front of, along with members of his staff. “But first, let us accept the surrender of our shared enemy.”

Chapter Text

Year 13, Week of Festival of Life, Day 03
Berlin, Getov Prime
The Greater Getov Reich


Adolph Hitler, Fuhrer of the Third Reich was looking over the situation of the Sector, and he was not happy. To see that his ally, the Norian Empire, and its leader, had lost the Sicily System was something not pleasing, and to see it happen a second time added more fuel to the fire. However, he had something the Allies didn’t have, and that was knowledge of what was to come. He knew that several within the Norian leadership would overthrow Mussolini and make peace with the Allies, and he was going to make sure that didn’t happen. He had sent Reinhard Heydrich into Noria to give him the message personally, to ensure that Mussolini took it seriously. Hitler was sure that this would allow for him to take the appropriate measures to ensure that it didn’t happen and that he could send in the forces necessary to ensure the Allies didn’t have a successful invasion of Europa.

On the front with the Rarus Federation, pulling back to the Dnieper had given Field Marshal Manstein the space and time needed to prepare for a proper defense against the numerically superior but inferiorly trained Bolsheviks. He read the reports on how the systems that connected to the Dnieper Line were filled with mines and other surprises that would keep them moving slowly for at least a month. That would allow for the defenses to be built up and prepare for the inevitable attack from them.

For the upcoming invasion of Floevis by the Allies, he knew that the invasion at Calais was going to be a deception, and that it was going to be at the Brittany System of Floevis, but he was unsure on what to do with that information. He could allow the Allies to land, and then he sends his forces from Calais to wipe them out during the invasion, or he could move everything there and cause them to have to replan everything from the beginning…

Hitler rubbed his chin as he thought about what should be done. The main problem with having knowledge of the future was that he couldn’t tell his generals why he was suggesting something when there was evidence pointing in a different direction. The Rarus Front was easy because it was something Getov High Command had been asking for, but Noria and Floevis were different. That was why he had sent Heindrich there in the first place, since no one would doubt the advice of a Teutonic Knight who was a former Jedi.

He admitted to himself that it was good to be in charge of Germany again, even if it was different from the one he remembered. A space based Reich was the perfect way to spread National Socialism, and with the knowledge he had, he could ensure that he would not repeat the mistakes from his past life.

“Mein Fuhrer,” an SS orderly said. He stood at attention as Hitler turned and gave him the customary salute which Hitler returned it with a casual salute. “I have the reports from the observations we have made on the people on the General Staff you mentioned.”

“Thank you,” Hitler said curtly. He took the datapad and dismissed the orderly so that he could have time to himself. Now alone, he could focus on another problem that he would have to deal with. The one thing that he knew he had to take care of was the assassination plot that he knew several members of the General Staff were planning. He remembered a few of the names, but others were harder. That was why he was having the SS observe General Ludwig Beck, Carl Friedrich Goerdeler, Hans Oster, Friedrich Olbricht, and whoever they were associating with. The problem was that he needed the experienced officers of the General Staff, at least until the war was in their favor.

One thing that he could easily take care of was the Final Solution, and this would be an even bigger endeavor than the one on Earth. Jews were still a large part of the problem for the Reich, but not only that, but now he had aliens to deal with. They were all different types, from ones that looked like giant apes to ones that looked like demons. There was one thing that had to be done with them, and that was they had to be removed from not only the Reich, but the whole of Europa proper. They had to be removed, to ensure that Aryan race remained pure from the rest of the filth of the galaxy. Humanity in general needed to cleanse itself from alien blood. Looking at the research that the SS had done, it proved that humans must have had a galaxy-spanning empire. It was the only explanation for them being so spread out in the galaxy.

Hitler placed a datapad on the table and picked up another one. This one was detailing information that he had received from that Katanians were asking for assistance from the Confederacy of Independent Systems. While many in the Confederacy were aliens, they controlled vast droid armies and powerful ships that could prove useful to the Reich, but the problem for them was that they had to move from the Outer Rim along the Hydian Way, and that was being fought over by both the Americans and Katanians.

Hitler sniffed at the thought of the Katanians having problems against the Americans. He wasn’t surprised that an inferior race of humans was having problems against them, however, he needed allies and they were a necessary compromise in the war. Hopefully the Confederacy would be able to offer them some assistance, and keep the Americans busy so that he could focus on Albion and the Rarus Federation.

Hitler had a thought come to him. Perhaps I could convince the Confederacy to send ships to assist us after the Hydan Way has been secured. He would have discuss it with the General Staff, a group that he was less trusting since his rebirth. I’ll have to discuss this with Heydrich. His perceptions of this war are a godsend.

He was beginning to realize that he was talking more and more with the Teutonic Knights, and the fact that Himmler had a hand in its creation was surprising. The Himmler on Earth was obsessed with the occult, which he dismissed as foolishness, but these Jedi and their ability to use the Force was incredible. To think that I had almost dismissed it as another foolish religion with no substance. It wasn’t until he saw five Knights take on three infantry platoons with panzers as support that he realized that they were incredible. He needed to find a way to recruit more. Himmler and the SS were already ahead of him on that. They had been scouring the occupied territories, taking Force-sensitive humans and recruiting them into the SS. The training would take years, but hopefully, when the war was won, he would have an army of Teutonic Knights and he would be able to spread National Socialism across the Sector, and then it would spread throughout the galaxy, bringing all of humanity under the rule of the Reich.

Year 13, Week of Festival of Life, Day 04
Allied Force Headquarters
London, Albion System


Dwight Eisenhower, woke up with a start. He must have dozed off while he was in the hospital, but as he looked around, he realized his surroundings were not those of a hospital room. Instead he was sitting in something that looked like an office. He also noticed that he wasn’t in the hospital gown that he was wearing for the past few days, but was instead in his old Army uniform. He stood up from behind his desk to look around closer and noticed that things were different. On his desk sat what looked like several small cartridges, and with it were several what looked like tablets. When he picked one up, he recognized the writing on it and realized he was reading some sort of report, but of what he was unsure of. Before he could read further, a knock came at his door. “Come in,” he said reflexively.

When the door opened, in came a woman who must have been in her mid-twenties. “I’m sorry to disturb you, General, but the Prime Minister insists that he speak with you immediately.”

Prime Minister? “Please send him in,” Eisenhower said, trying to act as calmly as possible.

“Yes, sir,” the woman answered. She stepped outside for a few seconds and through the door came someone whom Eisenhower did not expect to see. Winston Churchill came through the doorway and stood there, a cigar in his mouth and having a serious look on his face.

Eisenhower was in shock. The man standing before him had been dead for several years, and yet here he was standing in front of him. “Prime Minister…Churchill,” he managed to say. “What can I do for you?”

Winston Churchill’s brow furrowed a little at the way that General Eisenhower was acting. He had met him on a few occasions before, but this was unlike him. Unless… He then removed the cigar from his mouth. “I take it that you are surprised to see me? Possibly believing that I’m supposed to be dead or something like that?”

Eisenhower cleared his throat before answering. “Of course not, Prime Minister.” He attempted to hide his uneasiness, but he had a feeling that he was failing at that.

Churchill smiled slightly, a thoughtful look coming to his face. “Come now, I have seen that face on many within the past few months. You are hardly the first, and I have a feeling that I will not be the last, General Eisenhower. Or is it President Eisenhower?”

Dwight suddenly realized that this was the same Churchill that he had dealt with before. “So I take it from what you’ve told me, that I’m not the only person to have this happen to me? Who else is here, and just what the hell is going on?”

Churchill took a few puffs from his cigar and stood behind the chair in front of Eisenhower’s desk, placing his free hand on the back of it. “You might want to sit down. You and I have much to talk about.”

The discussion that the two former leaders from Earth lasted for several hours, with the both of them having to cancel several meetings for the day, but it was worth the future headache. Better to deal with a future headache and know that was being discussed than being completely blind, Eisenhower thought. Fighting World War Two again was something he could understand, even if it was difficult to believe, even with the added dimension of having to fight in space, but the fact that there was an even larger galactic conflict that was even bigger than the war he was currently fighting.

“Prime Minister, I thank you for telling me of the current situation, especially with how things are going in the rest of the galaxy, but I’m still having difficulty with all of this. Especially with the technology. It’s like something out of those pulp magazines that my son would read when he was younger.”

Churchill couldn’t help but nod his head in agreement. “I will admit that it took me time to adjust to these new contraptions, but I see most of them as a benefit than a detriment.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a datacard. “This for example, contains sensitive information that would normally require a suitcase back on Earth, but here, I can place it in my pocket.”

“What’s to keep someone from pickpocketing you and taking the information?”

“Well, it’s encrypted and the password is something from Earth that I doubt many here would have heard of,” he said with a slight smile. “While there are many similarities between the Terran Sector and Earth, there are a few differences, but that is not why I am here. The real reason is because of the situation in Europa proper. Can you hand me that datapad?”

Eisenhower picked up the device and handed it to Churchill, who then slipped the datacard into it and typed a few things. He was then handed back the device. When he looked back down at the pad, he saw that it was a report of the latest movements by the Getov military, and what he read disturbed him. “If this was supposed to be World War Two in space, then this is completely unlike how Germany fought in our war. Pulling back against the Russians, and what about this having the King of Italy placed under house arrest and Italy on the verge of civil war?” Eisenhower looked back up at the Prime Minister.

“I agree completely,” Churchill replied. “At first I thought that maybe it was just coincidence. The situation with the Rarus Federation was something that could have been dismissed as a fluke, but Noria…” He shook his head. “I have a feeling that something else is at work here.”

Eisenhower’s brow furrowed. “You think that someone else from Earth has been helping someone in these movements?”

“It has to be,” Churchill said. “We received reports that some of Getov’s Teutonic Knights had arrived and met with Mussolini. A few hours later, several members of the Norian General Staff were dismissed and then King Victor Emmanuel II was placed under house arrest.”

Eisenhower was quiet for a moment, trying to concentrate on the situation at hand. “You think that Hitler has joined us in this galaxy?” he finally asked, unsure if he truly wanted to know the answer.

Churchill nodded. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. We know that I, Rommel, Roosevelt, Patton, Alexander, Cunningham, and now you have come to this galaxy. It should be no surprise that our enemies may have a few also.”

Eisenhower pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ease the inevitable headache that he would receive. “So what have we heard from the—Norian was it?” he asked. He received a nod before he continued. “What have we heard from the Norian Generals that were attempted to call for a ceasefire?”

“They got their act together faster than they would have if the fighting in Italy hadn’t started, and they are requesting that we help them in freeing their country from Mussolini and in rescuing their King.” Churchill took a few puffs from his cigar. “They offered to help us in fighting Getvo and whatever force they have available would be put at our disposal.”

Eisenhower was a little surprised at that offer, but he knew that the situation was different from what he remembered on Earth. “I’m not sure on what we will be able to do about Noria. I’ll have to discuss it with President Hull, but we have other problems besides those in Noria.” He took a deep breath before he continued. “If Hitler has come back, then he will have an understanding of what’s to come. These events in the Rarus Federation and Noria are just small parts. Odds are he’ll remember when Overlord will happen. The question is, what do we do about it?”

“That is the big question,” Churchill said somberly. “It was those invasions and the deception that we did with it that made it so effective and cause the fall of that madman, but if he knows what is going to happen, and where, then how do you stop that?” Churchill takes a large puff from his cigar and stubs it out in the ashtray on Eisenhower’s desk. “I pray to God that we receive that clone army that Roosevelt is trying to acquire for us. I feel that this conflict will be far more difficult than you or I can anticipate.”

Chapter Text

Year 13, Month 07, Day 03
Hyperspace
En route to the Assam System, Albion Indou


General Sun Li-jen looked over the summary of the training that taken place over the previous month. A large exercise that had involved several divisions from Albion, America, and Kunia. Yes, it had been difficult for many in 38th Division, but they had performed amazingly, especially with the integrated units that had several aliens within them. Many commanders had showed reservations of working with aliens, but Sun, never wanting to turn down assistance, used them to the best of his ability, and his had come out as of the best commands in the entire training exercise. He placed the reasons for his success on the training that his men had been under, and the aliens who had joined his division. The Twi’leks made amazing scouts, and their skills as snipers were almost scary. He at first had worried about his men trying to take advantage of them, but after a couple of his men ended up in the medical wards after getting into fights with them, they learned to be wary of them unless invited. The Wookiees had become excellent shocktroops. He had a couple platoons of them under his command and they were the ones responsible for him taking so many of his objectives. Their technical knowledge, strength, speed, and sheer size made them a very intimidating force.

During the exercise, he sent a platoon to take a forward position, and it resulted the opposing forces panicking and leaving a large hole in their lines. To say that the Albion commander was upset was more than a little humorous, but it showed that his forces had become good enough to handle themselves in difficult situations. Even the few space ships that he had (an aspect that surprised him when he gained his new command) had proven useful.

It was his abilities in the exercise that resulted in the assignment that he was currently on. General Stillwell had given him the task of providing support to the Albion military as the Katanian Army attempted to move through the Assam System. The system was the cork in the bottle for entering Indou, and if the Katanian Military was successful in taking the system, then they would have a launching point for the conquest of Albion Indou. His memory was hazy on the details, but he did remember that the Japanese had used Indian nationalists to create an army that they hoped would begin an uprising, a very strong possibility considering the way that the Indians were treated by the British Colonial government. He could sympathize with the Indou people, but the Katanian’s would simply replace Albion imperialism with their own.

He stood on the bridge of his transport as it traveled through hyperspace, accompanied by a support fleet of Albion ships. Sometimes he would come up here and gaze into hyperspace. Such beauty, he thought as he watched the swirls of hyperspace, trying to ease his mind, but it soon returned to maintaining his division. Corruption had been rampant, just as bad as he remembered, but he made a point to ensure that in his unit, it was dealt with swiftly. Public punishments, and even a few executions were done, but in the end, it showed that he would not tolerate such things under his command. Some of his officers and NCOs hated him for the steps that he had taken, but he had the support of several in his staff and the common soldiers, not to mention the aliens.

“Arrr you alrright, Generral?” a familiar growling voice behind him said.

General Sun smiled slightly. The Wookiee Lofykam had become a close companion, and even with the life debt making it slightly awkward at times, he had come to see him as a friend, and a person willing to lay his life for. “I’m fine Lofie. I’m just worried about this entire operation.”

The Wookiee sniffed. “You arrre worried that your men arrren’t rrready?”

Sun grimaced a little. He didn’t like being read so easily but he accepted that maybe his Wookiee companion could see things that others couldn’t. “I will admit that I have my reservations about this, but we need to secure Indou or else the Katanians will gain a large ally.” Sun knew that if he had his way, he would continue to train the next group of upcoming officers as a way to counter the influence that the Chiangs had, and improve the chances of the Kuomintang against the Communists. That was the long term goal for him. The current war with the Katanian Empire was an ensured victory for the Allies, but what he needed to do was improve Kunia’s chances of coming out of the war better.

One of the bridge officers snapped him out of his thoughts. “General, we are approaching the planet and will exit hyperspace five minutes.”

General Sun thanked the officer and turned toward his companion. “Lofie, you should go down to the hangar and make sure that your soldiers are ready.”

“Yes, Generrral,” the Wookkiee said with a grunt. “May the Forrrce be with us.” He turned and left Sun on the bridge with the crew.

Sun didn’t know how to take the “blessing” that the Wookiee had given the mission. He had done some research on them, with what connections to the HoloNet he could gain access to, but his opinions of the Jedi were irrelevant. None of them were coming to assist in his theater of the war, and he had to try and win the battle in front of him.

The Albion fleet that had accompanied them was small, but it was supposedly large enough to handle the force that the Katanians had in orbit over the planet and relieve the Albion forces that were under siege. It was their job to clear the planet from orbit to allow for his forces to land and take several important cities to set up a beachhead. That would allow for Albion and American soldiers move in to reinforce them, but General Sun was not as confident as General Stillwell was. Stillwell had attempted to keep the aliens from joining his forces, stating that their uses would be limited and would only cause problems logistically, but General Sun had argued against it and had managed to win a small victory.

The aliens were joining, and the trainers, whom he had later learned were called Mandalorians, would be accompanying them on this attack, and he hoped that it wouldn’t be the only one they would take part in.

General Sun had learned much from researching the Mandalorians, especially since they were training his soldiers. They were a warrior culture, always going where the fighting was thickest and coming out stronger than before. He admired them for that, but their tendency for them to follow where the credits went made them questionable as allies. These, however, were Mandalorians who had come from Kunia or were interested in simply fighting against the Katanian Empire. Sun was surprised to see that some of them were aliens, and not humans as his researched showed from their history. The Mandalorians were not a particular race or species as they were more a culture. They had survived thousands of years of war because of this, and he had no doubts they would continue to survive.

General Sun’s inner thoughts were interrupted by the navigation officer. “General Sun, we will be exiting hyperspace in five…four…three…two…one…” The lines of hyperspace vanished and the stars of normalspace appeared. In the distance, the flashes and explosions of battle could already be seen as the Albion fleet moved to destroy the Katanian fleet.

“Status of the Albion fleet?” Sun asked.

“Albion fleet is moving fast toward the target planet,” the sensor operator reported. “Katanian communications have been jammed so we can expect them to have little in reinforcements for the next few hours.”

That’s one small piece of good news, Sun thought. The longer that the Katanian General Staff didn’t know what was happening out here, the better. “What’s the status of the Katanian forces within the system?”

The sensor operator pressed a few screens before she answered. “Most defenders are trapped between the Albion fleet and the gravity well. Makes the possibility of them escaping unlikely. A few patrols seem to have been on the outer edges of the system, but seems to have been mostly picket ships and fighters that have no hyperspace capabilities. Jammers should keep them from calling for help.”

“And their ground forces?”

“Katanian forces have stopped all offensives and are trying to move back to possible landing areas, sir. Some of the areas are already heavily defended, mainly those with spaceports. It seems that those we are tasked with to secure are some of the most heavily defended.”

General Sun hid a grimace. This was going to be more difficult for him than he would have liked, but he had a job to do, so he was going to do his best to accomplish it. “Comms, contact the Mandalorians and inform them I have a job for their unique abilities. I will meet them in the loading bay. Operations, you have command of the ship. Inform me of any new developments.”

“Yes, General,” the both officers replied as the general left.

This would be the first offensive operation for General Sun Li-jen’s 38th Division since arriving in Indou, and he just hoped that the training and preparations he had done with his men would be good enough to help in the fight for this planet. If it wasn’t, then the war in Kunia would end up just as it had before, with both sides losing millions of people and his country divided.

Year 13, Month 07, Day 04
USS Enterprise
The Solomons, Pacifica Region


Fighters streaked through space, attacking the remaining Kantanian space forces defending the settlement. In orbit around the asteroid, several ships of the Katanian Imperial Navy were nothing more than floating hulks, their hulls covered with scorch marks and fires from exposed plasma. The survivors of the American attack were retreating to other parts of the system, trying to escape from the attack fleet. Admiral Halsey looked out from the bridge of his flagship to see how the battle was going, and he was pleased to see that it was better than he expected.

The Katanian task force in the area was only a few frigates and a light cruiser, and most of them were docked with the asteroid settlement, leaving those remaining to try and stop the fleet of ships that were cutting off this region of the Solomons. The Katanian fighters and bombers that had been stationed at the asteroid habitat, an idea that seemed completely foolish to Halsey’s way of thinking, had been a larger problem than initially believed. Operation: Magic was not producing as many results as normal, from what he had heard and their presences resulted in more ships being lost or damaged than expected. There were also the defenses that the asteroid had that were keeping the transport ships from commencing the invasion, and so they had to conduct bombardments of the emplacements that they could find. That didn’t mean that there would ones that were unknown.

Damn that Yamamoto. Since his survival of the assassination attempt on him, the Imperial Katanian Navy was slowly Changing their codes. If I don’t end up killing that yellow bastard I’ll buy him a drink. Halsey had respect for the Katanian admiral, but he was too good at his job. He was just fortunate that the Army was not showing any innovative ideas. Yamamoto’s survival was causing some complications, but nothing that the Allies couldn’t handle in the long run. He needed to see how space combat was done, and to see that you needed to command from the front. It was a position that Halsey was used to doing, and his aggressiveness on the battlefield did not cause anyone to wonder why he was leading from the front in the first place.

This continuing battle was help in securing Aurora’s supply lines and allowing them to take a large part in operations in the Pacifica region of the Terran Sector. It also provided a testing ground for some of the tactics that Halsey had studied, and see how he could improve upon them. Another point of conducting this battle earlier than expected was that Admiral Nimitz had managed to have several transports that were originally to assist in the Sicily Campaign procured and were instead sent to help with this attack, along with several from Aurora.

While Halsey was thinking on how the invasion was to be conducted, a frigate that was moving in closer to the settlement exploded after several bursts of light came off the asteroid. “What in God’s name was that?”

Several seconds went by before there was an answer, but before Halsey to demand an explanation, the sensor operator replied, “Admiral, it appears that it was a hypervelocity gun. We didn’t see it because it must have been hidden in the rock of the asteroid.”

Halsey grimaced. He was still trying to get used to these new weapons that he was dealing with, and the loss of a frigate would mean that countless lives and a ship would have to be replaced. “Do we have its location?” When he was told that they had he began to issue orders. “Have one of our cruisers move up, and tell them to make sure they have all of their power diverted to shields. I want them to draw that thing out again. Send the location of that gun to our fighters and to move in close those coordinates so when it fires, they can take it out.”

“Aye aye, Admiral,” the communications officer replied, sending the messages to their recipients.

Halsey watched as a cruiser, named the San Francisco, move up closer toward the wreckage of the frigate, to appear as if it were conducting rescue operations. A few moments later, several shots came from the asteroid and impacted the cruiser’s shields, except these managed to hold under the barrage. The gun continued to fire until he saw an explosion on the surface of the asteroid. He smiled slightly, glad to see that he plan had worked. He then noticed someone standing next to him.

“Admiral, I have an urgent message for you from Admiral Nimitz,” a lieutenant said to him. In his hand he held a datacard.

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Halsey said calmly. He took the datacard and as the junior officer walked away, he placed the card into his datapad. After reading the content, he left the bridge and walked toward the intelligence department of the ship. Entering the area for the intelligence personnel he approached the lieutenant commander who was in charge who then led him to one of the intelligence officers.

“Admiral,” said the lieutenant, getting up from his seat.

“Hello, Lieutenant,” Halsey said casually. “I just got this report. Can you tell me more about it?”

The lieutenant nodded as he sat back down at his station and brought up the information. “As you remember, Admiral, the Katanian Navy has been Changing their encryption, limiting our ability predict their movements. However, their army and the diplomatic communications are still are still using the same encryption s before.”

All of this was information that Halsey knew, but he allowed the junior officer to humor him as he continued briefing.

“We know that the Katanian government has requested assistance from the Separatists, and yesterday Command received word that the Separatists were intending to send a fleet to reinforce the Katanian military, with the intention of pushing along the Hydian Way to assist Getov.”

Halsey knew that this was going to cause a problem for him if the Separatists managed to reinforce Yamamoto. The reason why the Katanian Navy was on the ropes was because they had lost most of their experienced personnel. He had studied the capabilities of the Confederacy’s military, and he was impressed, especially with their droid armies. An almost limitless number of soldiers and fighters that were easy to build and maintain. Damn, this could cause all sort of problems. “Do we have any indications where these reinforcements will be arriving, or what we can expect them to be sending?”

“There’s good news in that,” the officer said, pride in his voice. “The Separatists sent a listing of what they were going to send.” He brought up the associated information on his screen, motioning for Halsey to take a look.

Halsey looked over the information and was surprised at just what they were sending. Providence-class carriers/destroyers, Recusant-class destroyers, and several droid control ships that would be more than enough for them to retake the initiative in the region. “God damn,” he muttered.

The intelligence officer nodded in in agreement. “I did some math, and those ships the Katanians would be able to completely replenish their lost fighters, and leave enough for spare parts and replacements. However, we do know where they are going to arrive with these vessels.” He gets up from his station and walks over to the hologram that shows the Pacifica Region, and then brings up the Solomons, and zooms in on Guadalcanal. “That is where they are going to hit us.”

Halsey grimaced. “They undo all of the progress that we’ve made here if they are able to do that.” He rubbed his chin thinking. “Show me what vessels we have in the area.” The display Chianged to show the order of battle for American ships.

“A few escort carriers, two light cruisers, and some escort vessels are within the surrounding systems,” the intel officer said.

Halsey knew that despite the vessels that he had, they wouldn’t be able to stop a fleet of both Katanian and Separatists vessels, but he was also sure that the Katanians and Separatists knew that. That meant they would assume that it would be an easy victory. That made them arrogant. An idea soon came to his head and a predatory smile started to form on his face. Time to take a page from Getov’s book, and if this war is similar to how thing went on Earth, then they should have the same flaws. “Thank you, Lieutenant, for informing me of this development.”

“You’re welcome, Admiral,” The officer said, standing from his station.

Halsey soon left the room and made his way toward his quarters. There, he worked on the plan that had come to mind, leaving the operations to those subordinate to him. He began to draft orders for the raider commanders that were under his command. They were similar to the submarine commanders that he worked with, having no time for bull and always going straight to the point. He knew that some of them would be upset at being taken off going after Katanian ships, but he had a feeling they would forgive him for the next assignment he would give him.

Year 13, Month 07, Day 07
Pskov Oblast
Getov-occupied Rarus Federation


Field Marshal Walther Model looked over the hologram depicting the forces of the sector he was in command of. Around him, his staff was sending the required orders to the proper units in preparation for the inevitable offensive that the communists would send to try and relieve the siege that was around Leningrad. Model had become used to having the rank of Field Marshal in the Wehrmacht. It had come must sooner than on Earth, and the reason why it had happened was because of his “exemplary command of forces”, at least according to the promotion certificate. Model knew that something else was behind his promotion, but he wasn’t going to complain.

When he had most of his forces fall back along the Dnieper, he had begun preparations for when the Rarus military would strike after clearing the obstructions that had been placed in the systems and routes that led to the Dnieper. However, when he received word that he was to be relieved of command, he believed that the Fuhrer had somehow lost faith in him and was sending him back to be a staff officer back on Getov Prime (a waste of talent in his opinion). He was surprised to learn that he was instead being given command of the Upper Military Group along the vast Rarus Front, to prepare for the upcoming attack to relieve the Siege of Leningrad.

The siege hadn’t been that of a city but more of an entire planet that had the name Leningrad, and while there was a city with that same name, the planet was the key point. It had been under siege for years, with fighting all across the system and planet, but even when there was no possible route for reinforcements or relief, the residents of the planet continued to fight on, making every advance a slow and costly one. Even with encirclement, the Rarus Federation managed to find ways to send supplies and even some relief to the planet. There was a hyperspace route to the system that was used that led them through an asteroid field, and while it was dangerous and patrolled by Getov forces, enough made it through to where it was used as a way to send in supplies and pull out wounded.

When he arrived on Pskov Oblast, he began making preparations. He remembered where some of the targets would be, and a rough idea of where some of the routes the communists would take, but space combat was a concept that he had very little experience in. It was like trying to command ships that could also perform the abilities of aircraft. He took a hands on approach on the measures he was taking, and while he knew that it would cause many of his subordinates to despise him, he knew that he was the only one who would know how things were going to go, and they would follow him as soon as there were results.

“Field Marshall.” Up to him came a colonel with a datapad in his hand. “I have the latest reports from our supply lines.”

Model grimaced at the mention of his supply lines. He thought that ships with the ability to travel at speeds faster than light, supply problems would be a thing of the past, but he learned that all of the problems that he dealt with were just as much a headache as before. “Give me that damn report. That navy commander had better have found a way to secure our supply lines.”

The colonel flinched at the language, but gave the datapad to him and braced himself for the outburst at the bad news.

It wasn’t long after he started reading that Model’s face began to turn red and anger became far more prominent. After he finished reading the report, he tossed the datapad onto the holotable. “Are you telling me that fucking partisans in the Baltic Region has managed to destroy an entire supply convoy and the escorts that were supposed to be protecting them?” he demanded.

The colonel’s face lost some of its color. He had heard how Model was not a typical Getov commander, but this was completely unexpected. Generals, much less Field Marshals were supposed to have an air of professionalism about them, but this was unprecedented. “It would appear so,” he managed to say. He took a few breaths before he continued. “It is not uncommon for them to attack us, but this was an unexpected, and bold attack on their part.”

Model simply fumed at his supply situation. “If we keep experiencing these sorts of problems, there is no possible way for us to continue the siege of Leningrad, much less repel an attack when the Rarus swine attack.”

The colonel simply swallowed, trying to say something but his throat was too dry to and could do nothing but stand there, which seemed to worsen Model’s mood.

“Colonel, I want you to get me that damn commander who is in charge of securing our supply lines,” Model ordered. “Get him on our communications right now so he can explain to me why he can’t do his job, and after that, I want you to get me a line with the Fuhrer.”

At the mentioning of the Fuhrer, the colonel was almost astonished at what Model was planning on doing. “Field Marshal, with all due respect, isn’t that breaking the chain of command?”

“Do you think I give a damn about the fucking chain of command at this moment?” Model almost roared. Everyone else in the room stopped what they were doing to watch the exChiange. “All I care about is making sure my men are ready for when the fighting starts, and if others can’t do their job properly, then I will make sure that there is someone who can do it. Do you understand, Colonel?” The last word filled with venom.

“Yes, Field Marshal,” the colonel answered, barely able to speak, but managing to do so. “I shall see to it personally.”

“That is good to hear, Colonel,” Model said, calmly, which seemed to make everyone else feel uneasy. “And if you can’t do that properly, I will find someone else who can do that. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Field Marshal.” The colonel saluted Model, which was promptly returned, and he quickly left.

Model looked around and the other officers and few enlisted who turned back toward their previous tasks, trying to avoid making eye contact with him. He didn’t care what they thought about him. What he care about were results, and if he offended a couple of officers, well, they couldn’t do anything about it, especially when you were one of the Fuhrer’s favorites. Sometimes you had to take direct control of the situation, even if it upset some people, but as long as it got results, there was no reason for anyone to get upset.

He turned back to the hologram showing his sector of the front, trying to see how this latest setback will affect his plans for the future. Along several hyperspace lanes, red indicators were showing where partisans had attacked his convoys, and that didn’t included the various resistance groups throughout the Baltic Region and Getov-occupied Rarus territory.

“Damn it all,” he muttered. He knew that he had over a month to prepare of the upcoming attack to retake Leningrad, but if these supply problems didn’t stop, he may have to postpone any offensive operations in the area. That commander had better be able to do his job, or else it’s going to be his last assignment if I’ll have anything to say about it.

Chapter Text

Year 13, Month 07, Day 08
Allied Force Headquarters
London, Albion System


General Eisenhower sat in his office, with him was the Prime Minister of the Albion Empire, Winston Churchill, and sitting in front of the both of them was a hologram of the President of the United Planets of America, Cordell Hull. Eisenhower was still amazed by the technology that he could have access to. This long-range hologram projector allowed it to where he could talk and even see the President without him having to leave American territory. However, this meeting was to cover the recent events that had been taking place within the Europa Region of the Sector, and with the fighting between the Royalists and Fascists in Noria, both Hull and Churchill needed to discuss on how to deal with this new situation.

“As you can see, Mr. President, the situation in Noria is important. Right now, their military is split between those who are supporting King Emmanuel III and those who support Mussolini. Those who are supportive of the King have pledged to assist us in fighting against Getov forces in their territory,” Churchill explained. “I don’t think we would get a better opportunity than this to make a drive for Europa Proper.”

President Hull’s hologram, rubbed his chin in thought. “This does offer us a good opportunity, but they want us to attack them ahead of schedule. The initial invasion of Noria was to take place not for another few weeks. Do we have enough preparation to pull this invasion off?”

Eisenhower took that opportunity to offer his opinion. “Mr. President, I do agree that this is unexpected, but I have to side with Prime Minister Churchill. We won’t get another chance at something like this. The longer we wait, the longer Getov forces and those loyal to Mussolini are able to consolidate their positions and make it harder for us in the long run.”

“I know we had plan in place for the invasion, but will moving the invasion up cause any Changes to this?” President Hull asked.

“I don’t think so, Mr. President.” Eisenhower answered. “We have most of the necessary equipment and vessels needed, but we will need to have more personnel to replace our losses sent here for several of our formations. The good news is that the Sicilians don’t seem to offer any resistance to us on the planet, and seem to be happy that we are there, so we won’t need to leave many behind to protect our supply lines.”

“What about King Emmanuel III?” President Hull asked. “Your message stated you planned on rescuing him, but it didn’t specify how. I take it this was for security reasons?”

“That is correct, Mr. President,” Churchill answered. “We plan to have the SAS send in a team to retrieve the king and his family. This should provide the Norian people someone to rally behind, and possibly cause more Norian forces to side with us.”

President Hull thought for a moment before asking the next question on his mind. “General Eisenhower, How do your commanders feel about this operation? Is there anyone who disagrees with this?”

“No, Mr. President,” Eisenhower answered, promptly. “You might say that some of them are even eager to continue fighting and not giving them the chance regroup. Everyone wants to take the fight to Getov and their allies, and they see this as the chance to do so.”

The President smiled slightly. “I take it that Generals Patton and Rommel have been two of those who have been eager? I’ve read the reports on their activities and I doubt there could be anyone better suited for their jobs.”

“Yes, Mr. President, they are two of the best under my command,” Eisenhower replied.

President Hull thought for a moment before he answered. “Normally, I wouldn’t approve of something like this, especially considering that the men who originally took part in the invasion of Sicily are still recovering from close to a month of fighting, but under these circumstances, I will have to agree. Invading Noria would provide us with a spot to hit Getov from below, and divert them in sending forces against both the Rarus Federation and for the upcoming invasion in Floevis.” He turned to face Churchill. “When you originally pushed for this invasion a year ago you said that this would allow us to hit the soft underbelly of the Axis. Do you think this is possible to end the war sooner?”

A few puffs of smoke came from Churchill’s cigar before he answered. “I don’t think it would be possible. The terrain is too hazardous with too many asteroid fields around every system. It makes every one of them a fortress to try and storm. Maybe that will Chiange as we make more progress in that theater, but I think my previous assumption was optimistic.”

“Very well, Prime Minister,” President Hull said. “I wish you the best of luck General Eisenhower, and those under your command.”

“Thank you, Mr. President, but I do have a question to ask.”

“What is it?”

“Has there been any word on if we will receive any support from the Republic with a clone army?”

Cordell Hull took a deep breath. “Senator Roosevelt has been trying hard for us to get one, but with the whole galaxy at war, everyone is calling for those armies to assist them. However, I think he may be close to getting one to come to the sector to assist us.”

“That is good to hear, Mr. President,” Eisenhower said, some relief coming into his voice.

“Indeed, it is,” Churchill said, nodding in agreement.

“If that is all, I will leave you two to your jobs,” President Hull said. “Good luck, to the both of you.”

Year 13, Month 07, Day 08
Messina
Allied-occupied Sicily


Music was playing in the background, a local band that was trying to provide entertainment to the locals, as well as the many soldiers of the Allies. George Patton sat in a booth, enjoying a glass of the local alcohol as he took a moment to listen to the music. Right now, with Sicily secured, he was having his men drill to keep proficiency, and to prepare for the upcoming invasion of Europa. So far he hadn’t heard of anything about him being reassigned, like on Earth, but with rumors of Noria falling into a civil war, he wouldn’t be surprised if he was kept here to help with the fighting.

As George put his glass down, he took a moment to look around the cantina to see that it look very similar to how the ones on Earth. He had also looked up some of the history of the sector and saw how it was almost parallel to that on Earth, but scaled up. He made a point to visit some of the sector’s version of Roman Empire ruins, and was impressed at the similarities they had, even if the technology was far more advanced that what he saw on Earth. He looked back up toward the entrance of the structure to see his newest friend in the war, General Erwin Rommel.

Rommel looked around the building and found Patton sitting at his usual booth, a drink on the table accompanying a datapad. As he walked up to the booth, Patton stood up and extended his hand to his former enemy. Rommel took it, shaking it as if with an old friend. “It is good to see you again, General Patton.”

“You too, General Rommel.” Patton welcomed him to take a seat, and soon motioned for the waiter to bring some drinks.

Both Patton and Rommel had been coming to this particular establishment a couple times a week when they were off duty, usually talking about things back on Earth, usually about their experienced prior to the Second World War. At this time, Patton was telling his experience in Mexico as part of General Pershing’s expedition to capture Poncho Villa. “I have to tell you Rommel, I will never forget the first time that I saw action down in Mexico.”

Rommel found this story interesting, especially since it seemed more like the old “Wild West” stories that you would hear about the American expansion westward, and less like a war. He was just starting to tell his story about a shootout with several Mexican bandits when a junior officer walked up to their table, saluting.

When the salute was returned, the officer spoke. “I’m sorry to bother the both of you, sirs, but General Alexander wants to see the both of you, immediately.”

Patton glances over to Rommel who merely shrugs, and both of them get up from their seats. “Take us to him then.”

The officer saluted again and the three officers left the cantina and were soon off in a speeder. Since the planet had been taken, Alexander had moved his headquarters from the Tunis System to the city of Messina, to help coordinate forces that were moving onto the planet for the inevitable invasion of Europa. When they arrived at the building, the three walked in and approached Alexander’s office door. The officer escorting them knocked and when they heard a reply, he opened the door and allowed the two generals to enter, closing the door behind them.

Reading a datapad, General Harold Alexander looks up to see his two best generals. “Please sit down, the both of you,” he said, setting his datapad down and motioning toward the two chairs in front of his desks. “Gentlemen, I have just received our next assignment. Because of the civil war in Noria, we will be commencing the invasion of Noria proper in two weeks.”

“Rommel, you have been placed in command of Albion forces in the invasion of Noria. There has already been plan drawn up for it, but you can look over them and make Changes that you see fit. I would, however, include General Clark in you discussion on plans for the invasion. He is a capable commander, but I remember how he was criticized for his performance in the invasion. Perhaps you could offer some advice to him.”

“I will do what I can to support him, General,” Rommel replied.

Next came the part that Alexander would not enjoy. “General Patton, unfortunately, you will not be taking part in this invasion. You are being reassigned to Albion.”

Patton’s expression was that of outrage. “Goddamn it. Whatever for? I haven’t done anything to warrant this type of action. What is Eisenhower thinking back in Albion?”

Alexander cleared his throat before he explained. “If you must know, Eisenhower, and I mean the one from Earth, personally requested that you return to Albion for a specific assignment.”

Upon hearing that it was the Eisenhower from Earth, Patton calmed himself down. “What is it?” he asked, some resentment slipping into his tone

“The Prime Minister Churchill and General Eisenhower have a theory to why Getov High Command has been making different actions that what we know from Earth.” Both generals were now interested in the explanation and Alexander continued. “As you remember from Earth, the German military did not retreat from many battles while fighting the Soviets, but after the defeat at Kursk, that was exactly what they did, falling back to the Dnieper. Then there’s the Norian Civil War, which began with Getov’s Teutonic Knights visiting Mussolini, and soon after that, the King and several members of the Norian General Staff being dismissed.”

“You’re making it sound like someone has joined Getvo’s side from Earth,” Patton said finally.

“That’s the conclusion that the Prime Minister and General Eisenhower came to, but what they had difficulty understanding was whom it could be,” Alexander explained. “Whoever it is would need to have knowledge of when specific events that happened.”

“That could be anyone on the General Staff,” Rommel said. “Though it would have to be someone with enough influence to allow Hitler to…” Rommel trailed off as his mind came to a conclusion.

Patton’s brow furrowed until he realized who it could be. “You’re telling me that goddamned crazy Nazi bastard is leading Getov?”

Alexander just nods. “It appears that way, which is why you are being reassigned, General Patton. So far the war hasn’t drifted too far from how it went back on Earth, and we are going to keep it that way.” He steepled his fingers and continued. “From what I remember, the reason why the invasion of France was so successful was because of deception. We are going to do the exact same thing, but we are going to it by acting as if nothing has changed. We’ll use the war on Earth as a guide to fool Hitler, and allow him to believe that we do not know anything.”

“So you plan on making tricking him by making him think he know how things will go before they happen?” Patton asked, skeptical of the whole idea.

The room was quiet for a few moments before Rommel spoke. “It might work. I remember hearing how Hitler always believed he was right, and with him knowing how things happened during the war, this may cause him to become even more overconfident than before.”

“And more likely to make a mistake,” Patton said. “So what is my assignment, General Alexander?”

“You will be placed in command of the First United Systems Army Group,” he answered. He could see Patton begin to bristle at the mention of the name of his new command and raised a hand before he could say anything. “It’s part of the deception. Instead of it being a paper army group, it will be the main force for the invasion. However, I am unable to give you more details than that. You will have to talk with General Eisenhower when you arrive.”

Alexander could see that Patton was not satisfied with his assignment, “General Patton, I know that this is not what you wanted, but right now, we need to convince Hitler that nothing has Chianged.”

Patton grunted, his face showing his displeasure in being pulled away from a combat position. “General Alexander, I will be up front when I say this, but I am not satisfied by this, but if it helps in stopping that crazy Nazi bastard, I’ll do it,” he said begrudgingly.

“That’s good to hear, General, and if it is any consolation, I am sad to lose one of my best commanders.” Alexander could tell by the look on Patton’s face that he wasn’t happy with this turn of events, but it was for something more than the general’s quest for glory. “You can take your staff with you, but I would suggest against telling anyone the details of this until after you have arrived in Albion.”

“I understand, General Alexander.”

“That is good to hear,” Alexander said, relief coming into his voice. “That is all for the both you. You have your assignments, and I suggest you get to it. We have much to do and very little time.”

“Yes, sir,” both generals said, standing up and saluting. Alexander returned them and they both left the room, both to prepare for their upcoming parts in the invasion of Europa. The question going through both of their minds however: If Hitler was there, then who else could there be?

Chapter Text

Year 13, Month 07, Day 10
IKN Musashi
En route to CIS rendezvous


Admiral Yamamoto stood on the bridge of his ship, the space battleship Musashi, anxious about what where he was to be going. On this assignment, he was to meet the Confederate task group that was to assist them in regaining the initiative in the Pacifica Theater. His ship, as well as the ten escorts that were accompanying him, were to meet in an area outside of any claimed territory, and hopefully remote enough for the Americans to not get involved. He felt confident that the fleet around Malay Region of the Sector would be able to hold itself. So far, the American fleet was focused on trying to retake the Solomon System and the Albion fleet operating in Indou was just staying there for the time being. He had left his carriers and most of the force behind to keep Malay safe, taking just enough to ensure his safety in the event things went bad when meeting the Confederate commander

He looked down at the datapad he had been carrying since the voyage began, reading at what was being offered to him to help in the Pacifica Region: Four Lucrehulk battleships, seven Providence carrier/destroyers, and thirty-five Munificent and Recusant support ships. Over forty new vessels with full compliments of droid soldiers and fighters. This should buy us some time to rearm and retrain.

When he first arrived in this galaxy, Yamamoto was hopeful that he could cause the Americans enough trouble to where they would have to sue for peace, or at least call off any new offensives until the Imperial Navy could rebuild itself. However, after seeing the determination of the American fleet, and the quality of their equipment, he was beginning to believe that the Empire was doomed to lose this war if they couldn’t gain some new advantage.

When he received word that the Confederacy was sending a task group to assist them, he saw it as a sign that perhaps the situation could turn toward their favor. He had read about the droid fighters, and while they were next to useless in dogfighting, they could prove useful in swarming the enemy in sheer numbers. It was a tactic that he thought was a waste, but if it could buy Katania time, he would follow through with those tactics.

“Admiral, we are approaching the rendezvous,” the navigational officer reported. “Estimated time of arrival, ten minutes”

Yamamoto nodded and the captain of the vessel, Captain Keizō Komura, began to issue orders to those under his command to ready themselves to exit hyperspace, and placed the ship at battle stations. He understood the reason for this. One must always be ready for a fight, especially when exiting hyperspace. Not doing so left you vulnerable until you could bring your systems up and that was a risk that Yamamoto was not go to take. Not as long as he held command.

When the battle group exited hyperspace, Yamamoto could see the task group in front of him. He noticed that their formation was not very effective in the protection of capital ships, and would be easy to get passed if determined. “Captain, we’re are being hailed by the Confederate admiral,” the communications officer reported. “He’s requesting to speak with Admiral Yamamoto.”

Captain Komura looked over at the admiral and Yamamoto cleared his throat and ran a hand down his uniform to straighten it. “Put him through.”

On the screen appeared an alien with grey skin and appeared to have no nose on its face. It wore a large black headpiece and had eyes that were a reddish-brown color. “I am Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto, Commander of the Combined Fleet of the Empire of Katania.”

The alien gave him a nod on the screen. “Admiral, I am Rear Admiral Cet Finto. I am here at the request of your government to offer aid in the Pacifica Region of the Terran Sector. However, I must inform you that I will be operating independent of your command and do not fall under your leadership, but I will listen to any suggestions that you are willing to offer.”

Yamamoto bristled at the tone that this rear admiral was giving him. He knew that the Terran Sector was seen as a backwater by much of the galaxy, being on the fringes of the Mid and Outer Rim, and the fact that the Sector had the tendency of being involved in one conflict or another made them a joke in some circles, but this Nemodian’s attitude made Yamamoto believe that Admiral Finto thought that all within the Terran Sector were backwards. Finto being outside the chain of command also made things difficult because he couldn’t use him as effectively if he were under his command. All he could do was offer suggestions and if his reading on this beings attitude was correct, he would be more trouble than the Americans.

“I understand, Admiral. I will be sending you information on the closest American controlled territory. That is the first target that we should attack to disrupt their operations within the Pacifica Region and allow us the time to regain the initiative in this theater.” Yamamoto hoped that this commander would be willing to listen.

“Thank you, Admiral, but we would like to have your latest intelligence that you have on American forces within the entire Pacifica Region, to give us the bigger picture. We would like to focus our attacks at locations where the largest concentrations are.”

Yamamoto cleared his throat. “With all due respect, Admiral, it would be better to go after their supply lines to ensure that they will be unable to keep their forces on the offensive.”

Admiral Finto’s head tilted slightly. “I am aware that your empire has been having difficulty in fighting the American Navy, but going after their supply lines is a waste. If you want to defeat them, you need to smash their fleets in open battle so that they will learn that they are no match for you.”

Yamamoto tried not to clinch his teeth. This doctrine sounded similar to how the Imperial General Staff wanted the war to be fought, but he knew better than to believe in that now. However, he knew that he would have to work with this admiral, and denying him information would not be a good idea. “I will send you what intelligence we have, and we can work out a strategy when you have finished going over it.”

“Thank you, Admiral,” Finto said in a tone that held a hint of arrogance. “I am confident that our combined fleets will be able to push the Americans back into their territory.”

“I hope you are correct about that, Admiral,” Yamamoto replied, evenly. Finto’s face disappeared from the screen as the connection was cut off. “Captain Komura, please send what information we have on the situation in the region, as well as the lessons that we have learned from the various engagements that we have been in.”

“Yes, sir,” the captain said, and he soon began to give commands to the intelligence department on his ship.

I’ve got a bad feeling about this. Yamamoto thought to himself. Ever since he avoided the assassination attempt on him, he had been feeling like he was on borrowed time, and the situation he was currently in made him feel extremely uneasy.

“Captain,” said the sensor operator, “sensors are detecting several small objects throughout the fleet.”

“Can you identify them?” Captain Komura asked.

The sensor operator pressed several keys at his station before he answered. “They are too small to identify properly. They do have durasteel properties, but are too small to be a mine. I would have assume that they are just pieces of space junk.”

“What do you think, Admiral?” Komura asked, hiding any emotion he was feeling.

Again, Yamamoto was beginning to have an uneasy feeling, but nothing that he could fully explain. “Connect me with Admiral Finto. His sensors are far better than ours and perhaps he can identify them for us.” The message was soon sent to Admiral of the Confederate fleet, and after a few short minutes, received a reply saying that the object that had been detected were nothing more than space junk. Yamamoto felt somewhat at ease but still had an uncomfortable feeling.

An hour passed, without significant incident, and Yamamoto was beginning to think that perhaps his uneasiness was nothing more than paranoia. However, that did not quell the feelings he was beginning to have to the Confederate Admiral. So far, all attempts to work together have been turned down and he was beginning to hope that something would happen to the arrogant Admiral Finto.

“Captain, I’m detecting several spreads proton torpedoes moving toward the Confederate fleet!” reported the sensor operator.

“Where did they come from?” Captain Komura demanded.

“Unknown, sir. They just appeared out of nowhere.” The sensor operator’s voice becoming a little more frantic.

“Have the ship put at general quarters, and make sure you report this to the rest of the fleet.” the captain ordered. “What’s the vector that the torpedoes are taking?”

The sensor operator pressed several keys. “Vector takes them toward the Confederate capital ships, sir.”

Yamamoto walked closer to the tactical display, showing where the torpedoes had appeared. “Send a message to Admiral—”

“More torpedoes on the sensors! Vector places them on a course with us.”

“Shit!” Captain Komura said. “Shields up! Evasive maneuvers!”

Yamamoto watched as the ships that made up part of his task force maneuvered to try and avoid the torpedoes. He watched as three of his escort ships were destroyed while another two were crippled. “What’s the status of the Confederate fleet?” he asked, as the ship shook from the hit of three torpedoes.

“Ten of their escorts have been destroyed, one Providence-carrier crippled while the others have received various amounts of damage, and one of their Lucrehulk-battleships has been severely damaged.”

Yamamoto watched as another carrier exploded, taking another two escorts with it. Damn it. This could only be the Americans, he thought. “Connect me with Admiral Finto’s ship,” he ordered. When the communication officer made the connection, he gave Yamamoto a nod. “Admiral Finto, this is Admiral Yamamoto. We need to leave the area immediately,” he said, trying to keep himself calm.

“What the hell happened?” Finto demanded. “You told me that this area would be clear from any American involvement.”

“It seems that I was mistaken,” Yamamoto replied. If this doesn’t get our codes Changed, then nothing will. “We need to leave the area before more arrive.”

“Admiral, I’m detecting several ships exiting hyperspace,” the sensor operater reported. “Signals match those of the Americans. I’m counting close to fifty vessels arriving.”

“Admiral, I suggest we leave now!”

“No,” Finto replied. “The Americans are here and we will face them in battle. You can leave if you want, but when I win this battle, I doubt your superiors would appreciate you leaving in the middle of combat, and if I remember correctly, your punishment for cowardice is not very civilized.”

Yamamoto hid a grimace. He knew that he needed the help of these ship and he needed it now. “Captain Komura, bring the ship into their formation. We’ll be joining them in this battle.”

Komura wanted to say something, but held it back. He had his orders, and so he followed them.

Droid Starfighters were launched from the carriers and battleships and made their way toward the American fleet. The Americans, however didn’t launch their own, but instead stood there and waited for the fighters to come closer. As they approached, several of the smaller support ships began firing on the fighters as they began to swarm the Americans, but after about half of the fighters made it, there were several large explosions around the fleet that enveloped the fighters.

“What just happened?” Captain Komura asked.

“Sir, it appeared that several explosions detonated in front of the fighters as they approached the American fleet. I think they were proximity mines,” the sensor operator answered. “I would have to guess a few dozen at least.”

This wasn’t good. The Seperatists lost about a third of their fighters in a mad dash and now it appeared that Admiral Finto was sending in everything he had in order to crush them. This wasn’t right. The actions that Finto were making showed that the Confederate Admiral was not a competent commander, and wondered if all of the Confederacy’s military leadership was like this.

The Katanian ships soon joined those of the Confederacy and they began to move at top speed toward the Americans, but after several minutes, the fleet disappeared only for them to reappear behind them. “How did they pull that off?” Captain Komura asked, to no one in particular.

Yamamoto didn’t know either, but he knew that it placed them in the wrong position. Most of the Confederate fleet was large and would take time to turn around, while the American fleet were able to turn faster.

“American fleet launching fighters!” the sensor operater reported. “Also detecting several more torpedoes vectoring in on the Lucrehulk battleships.”

Yamamoto watched as the torpedoes moved toward the enormous ships, but they seemed to focus on a specific part of the ship. He could see as they turned and went after the engines, taking them out in a brilliant explosion. More torpedoes were launched, this time by the various American fighters. These were going after the escort ships, and even with the destruction of several fighters, enough were getting through to cripple, and in some cases, destroy them.

“Get me a line to Admiral Finto,” Yamamoto ordered. “We need to leave the area immediately.”

“We can’t. We’re stuck in a gravity well. The Americans must have placed a gravity well mine in the area to keep us from escaping.”

Shit. “Tell Admiral Finto that we need to get out of this gravity well and fallback to friendly territory.”

When the message was sent, Admiral Finto soon appeared on the screen. “Admiral Yamamoto, I refuse to retreat from these Americans. They cannot defeat our superior numbers and technology.”

“They are defeating us through better tactics,” Yamamoto replied, almost yelling. “We need to fall back now or else we won’t have anything left.”

“I will not fall back. You can leave if you want to, but the Confederate Navy will not lose to a bunch of infighting backwaters who can’t go for a decade without starting something. No. We will prevail and if you want to leave, then you are more than welcome to. I will be sure to report this to your superiors.”

Yamamoto, having enough of this incompetent officer finally let it go. “If you want to, that’s fine, but I am transmitting the rendezvouses coordinates for us to any Confederate ship. They can join us if they want or stay. The choice is theirs.” He then cut off the transmission.

Turning to Captain Komura, who seemed to have the shadow of a smile on his face, he began to give orders for the rest of the fleet to fall back to preset coordinates. He also had them sent to the Confederate fleet, hoping that at least some of them would be joining them. After several long and tenuous minutes of trying to stay alive, the Musashi and her remaining escorts disappeared into hyperspace, along with seven of the Confederate support ships and a single Providence carrier.

Five Hours Later


Admiral Yamamoto stood on the bridge on his ship, looking over the repairs that were being done to the surviving Confederate vessels. Out of a fleet of forty-five vessels, less than half had survived the ambush done by the Americans, and he later learned Auroran vessels. Looking over the manifest, he saw what he had to work with: one Lucrehulk battleship, three Providence carrier/destroyers, and nineteen support ships made up of Munificient frigates and Recusant light destroyers. One of the Providence carriers was too severely damaged and would have to be salvaged for parts to repair the other two, and four of the frigates and destroyers would have to be salvaged to repair the remaining escort ships. All of this was still preliminary and it would take a few more days to truly evaluate the damage that had been done.

It will be a while before we can go on the offensive again, he thought. He looked over at the tactical display of the Pacifica Region. The attack on the Confederate fleet had caused the Americans to divert many of their assets to the one region, but there was nothing he could do to take advantage of it. Everything had returned to the status quo.

“Damn this war,” he said to himself. If he could, he would try and call for a ceasefire and end this war. There was no possible way for them to regain the initiative in this theater, and he doubted that the Confederacy would send more ships to help them. More was needed elsewhere in the galaxy, and the only saving grace that the Katanian Empire had was that everyone seemed to be focused on Getov. That won’t last for long. Not at the rate things are going for the Allies, he thought to himself.

He took a deep breath and placed the datapad he was holing on a desk as he unfastened the top button on his uniform. He took another look and saw how hopeless the situation was going for him. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to protect all of the holdings that Katania had taken. Too much to defend with too few to use.

If I could, I would pull back everything to the Malay Region and the home systems, but he knew that others would not support that. The Army General Staff would say he was abandoning lad that belonged to the Emperor, while other Naval commanders would claim he was limiting their maneuvering room. There was little he could do.

There is nothing I can do, he thought. We’re going to lose this war.

Chapter Text

Year 13, Month 07, Day 13
Coruscant
The Galactic Republic


Senator Franklin Roosevelt sat in his office, looking over the latest news from the Terran Sector. The new about the Civil War in Noria was disturbing, but it was nothing compared to the Separatist fleet that had arrived in the Pacifica Region to reinforce the Katanian Empire.

At least we were able to defeat them before they could attack anyone, he though, placing the datapad down. He picked up a cigarette and placed it in his holder. He took a few seconds to ponder what he could do next. He had managed to convince the Senate that the Terran Sector needed to have a Clone Army send to aid in their conflict, but there had been several who had still been hesitant to do so. This new offensive by the Separatists to try and gain control of the Hydian Way only cemented the support that he needed.

Roosevelt smiled slightly as he lit his cigarette. He was glad to know that the politics of sentient beings are the same no matter what. Politicians always looked out for their own self-interests, and he dealt with that on Earth, but this was different from what he was used to. Wide-spread corruption was far worse than anything he had ever seen, and the war was just making things worse. Some of his opinions had captured the attention of several senators who shared the same views of himself.

A buzz on his desk interrupted his thoughts and he reached over and pressed his intercom. “This is Roosevelt.”

“Senator, Bail Organa of Alderaan is here to see you,” he head of security reported to him.

Roosevelt smiled and placed his holder in an ashtray. The Senator from Alderaan was a person that he respected greatly. Senator Organa wanted to help those in need, and saw the Republic as an example of democracy to the rest of the galaxy. “Please send him in.” He took these few moment to put out his cigarette and when the smoke cleared, in came in the Senator. “Afternoon, Senator Roosevelt,” he said, giving him a slight bow.

Roosevelt stood up and extended his hand. “And good afternoon to you as well.”

Senator Organa took his hand and gave it a firm pump before he released it. “I see that your security is as paranoid as ever,” he quipped.

Roosevelt smiled a little. “Comes from having so many threats against your life, and with a war going on, you can’t be too careful.”

The senator smiled. “Indeed.”
Roosevelt motioned for him to take a seat and called for his droid to bring in some refreshments for them. “I heard that you finally managed to convince the Senate to send a Clone Army to your sector. I take it that you are now satisfied with that outcome?” Organa asked.

“I am, but that is only a small step,” Roosevelt explained. “Until the Clone Wars are over, I can’t sit by and watch this galaxy tear itself apart. We all need to work together if we want this conflict to end and start rebuilding.”

Bail cocked an eyebrow. “So you meant the promise of sending aid to the rest of the galaxy when the sector has been secured?”

Franklin took a deep breath before he answered his question. “Bail, I have seen too much war and too much death in my life. Yes, the Terran Sector is more prone to fighting than any other region of the galaxy, and I also know that many look down upon us because of our proximity to the Outer Rim, but we do honor our agreements. When I and Senator Halifax said we would offer aid to the Republic, we will. That is a promise that I have from President Hull himself.”

Bail couldn’t help but smile at the passion that the American Senator put. He acted like a man who had seen war in its darkest form. “I am glad to hear that. You would be surprised how many planets would promise and then turn around and say they need to focus on protecting their own homes.”

Franklin nodded his head, knowing that there are always those who place themselves over others, but that was not what the United Systems did, and he wasn’t going to allow that to happen with the Republic ether. His droid soon returned carrying a tray with drinks and offered it to the both of them.

“Did you hear who the Jedi commander for the Clone Army will be?” Bail asked as he picked up a glass, Changing the subject.

Franklin shook his head. “Sorry, but I don’t think I do,” he replied. He picked up a glass and took a sip.

“Her name is T'ra Saa,” Bail said. “A very old Jedi Master who has centuries of experience. I think she will a great help to your effort against your enemies in the Terran Sector.”

“I hope so,” Roosevelt said, trying to hide his disdain for Jedi.

“Franklin, I know you feel uncomfortable about a Jedi in command of a Clone Army, but they are good people. I know you aren’t the only person to be distrustful of their power, but they are overall good.” Bail explained. He could see that Franklin was still somewhat unsure. “How about I have General Saa come over sometime? All of us can discuss the war, and maybe put you at ease somewhat.”

Franklin thought for a moment before answering. “I suppose I could spare an afternoon. It might be a good way to inform her of the situation as it is going in the Sector.”

“That is good to hear. Will you be returning to your homeworld when the fleet leaves?” Organa asked.

Roosevelt shook his head. “No, I think my talents would best be served here on Coruscant. War is for generals and leaders. Not for people like me.” Though I know I would be capable of doing it if I had to.

Bail nodded slightly and took a sip from his drink. “That is good to hear, because I have an offer for you.” He saw Roosevelt’s interest pique and continued. “I have been appointed the Senate Security Committee. It’s to help oversee the safety of the Senators and the Republic as a whole. I would like to offer you a seat on that committee.”

Roosevelt was a little surprised at the offer. He knew that it would be a great honor to be appointed to that committee, and if he could help with securing the Republic from any threats during and after the war… “I’ll have to think about it, Bail, but I think I will accept your offer.”

A small smile formed on Organa’s face. “Well, Franklin, when you do decide to officially accept it, there are a few more senators I think you would like to meet.”

“I look forward to it.”

Year 13, Month 07, Day 13
Kharkiv, the Union of Ukraina Federated Worlds
The Rarus Federation


General Zhukov didn’t know whether or not to be relieved or upset. The weeks had gone by where he had been clearing out traps and dealing with Getov soldiers who had stayed behind to cause problems for him. So far, he had managed to liberate a single planet from the Ukraina, and he originally had planned to liberate Kiev by now. Instead, the Getov armies had done the opposite of Germany’s. All of this was proof to him that Hitler had come to this galaxy as well, but that just made him more determined to get to Berlin and give him the justice that he had escaped on Earth.

Around him, his staff was working around the clock to prepare for the upcoming offensive to retake Kiev from the fascists, but he was beginning to hear rumors that Stalin was not satisfied with the pace that he was moving. Zhukov knew what happened to those who had fallen out of favor of the “man of steel”. If you were lucky, you were shot, either by your own hand or a member of the NKVD. Worse, you could end up in the Siberia Region, on one of the dozens of asteroids that was used for labor camps to gather resources for the state. Zhukov felt a shiver move up his spine and tried to focus on the task as hand.

“Colonel, have the communications officer know that he can begin the meeting,” Zhukov said finally.

“Yes, Comrade General,” he replied. The colonel walked over to a station where a young woman was sitting. He relayed the order and she began to press several keys.

Zhukov stood where he was, hands behind his back as the holoprojectors brought the images of six Rarus generals in front of him. All of them comrades that he knew back on Earth, even if only one of them was from there, he found some comfort being with familiar faces.

“Comrades,” he started, trying to take hold of the meeting, “We all know that we have to retake our lost lands that were taken by the Hitlerites, and we know of the atrocities they have committed against our people. We need to push the advantage that we have gained since our victory at Kursk.”

“We know that Comrade General Zhukov,” said one of the holograms. Zhukov looked to see General Konstantin Rokossovsky, the man who was made famous by planning and executing Operation: Bagration. “The problem, however, is that the fascists have been fighting differently since their defeat at Kursk. Since Stalingrad, they counter-attacked our forces whenever they had the chance, but now the Getov High Command is allowing General Manstein to actually fight how he wants.”

“Yes, we all have noticed the Chiange in their fighting,” General Fyodor Tolbukhin said. “They pulled back from most Rarus territory and shorted their defensive lines. Now they no longer have to defend such a large amount of territory. What we need to know is how this will affect the upcoming offensive we have planned. Do we know the make-up of their defenses? Are there more mines along routes to the various planets?”

“Our allies in Albion,” Zhukov started, and he could see the disgust in the faces of some of the commanders at the mention of a capitalist nation, “have been experiencing trouble with decoding the latest messages from Berlin to the front.”

“A likely explanation,” came a voice to the side. Everyone looked to see the zampolit, Igor Rozovsky, walking up to them. “I am sorry for my tardiness, but I had urgent reports to send to Moscow.”

“That is alright, Comrade,” Zhukov said, hiding his disdain for political officers in general. He knew that many of those with him had little love for people like Igor, know that they were some of those responsible for the disastrous results of the purges that Stalin had conducted before and during the war with Getov. “We had just started and were about to determine the best course of action for our continued attacks against the fascists.”

“I should hope so,” Rozovsky said, coldly. “Comrade Stalin is eager to continue the fight and will not look well upon delaying for much longer. Already, we have allowed the Hitlerites too long to regroup and rearm.”

“We destroyed their offensive capabilities,” retorted General Vasily Sokolovsky. “Much of their equipment and personnel were either killed, captured, or destroyed during Kursk or immediately after. It was naïve to think they would continue to fight us like they have since Stalingrad, and this is showing that they are trying to regroup.”

“Perhaps,” Rozovsky replied, his voice carrying suspicion, “but there is also the possibility that they could be receiving outside help from other nations. Perhaps our so-called allies in Albion? They never had trouble breaking the codes of the Nazis, but now, all of a sudden they are? Seems too much of a coincidence to me.”

Zhukov glanced over a Konev, and they both knew what the other was thinking. They knew the reason in the sudden Chiange in everything was that Hitler, and God knows who else, had come to the galaxy, but to say such things would result in a fate that neither of them wanted to think about. “We may not agree with the ideologies of our allies, but we are all in this struggle together,” Zhukov said.

“Right now, we need to focus on reclaiming Kiev and getting a breakthrough into Belaya Rus,” General Ivan Konev said, steering the conversation on the proper topic. “After that, the Hitlerites will have to fight closer to their home, and it will allow us to regain the industry and farmland that the Ukraina provided us before they invaded us.”

“Generals Manstein and Kluge will be difficult to defeat,” General Tolbukhin said. “They’ve had weeks to prepare their defenses while we had to move through the barriers that placed in the systems and hyperspace routes they placed.”

“We will be able to drive them back,” General Valutin said confidently. “We will suffer losses, but while they may have some better equipment, we have more men and equipment than they do. For every one that we lose, we will have ten more to replace them with.”

“Yes, I am sure that the spirit of our soldiers will carry the day and bring us a victory,” said Rozovsky. “We will show the fascists that they were wrong to invade the Rodina, and they shall experience the vengeance of the people.”

“Yes, I am sure they will,” Zhukov said finally. He turned toward a lieutenant and give him a nod. The young officer pressed several keys and in the middle of the group appears the entire region of the Rarus-Getov front. “Comrades, our main focus will be retaking the Ukraina. Generals Valutin, Konev, Malinocski, and Tolbukhin will be the commanders of that assault.” On the hologram, each commanding general’s name appears, along with their army. Each of you have an objective in the Kiev System to secure, which will be sent to you after this briefing is over.”

The hologram zoomed out of the Ukrainia and moved toward Belaya Rus. “For the attack into Smolensk, Generals Yeremenko and Sokolovski will in charge of that assault. Taking that system will provide us with a staging point to retake Belya Rus from the fascists.

“For General Rokossovski, you will be pushing into the Minsk system, comrade. I don’t expect you to take that system by yourself, but you need to make as strong a push as possible. This will prevent the Getov from sending any forces in that system toward any of the others as part of this operation,” Zhukov explained. He paused before he looked at every one of the holograms. “This is to be a broad offensive so as to not allow for the Getov military to counter at any one location.”

“You should inform them about Model, comrade,” Rozovsky said.

Zhukov hid any reaction on his face to keep the political officer from seeing it, but inside, he wanted to shoot the man and then send his body into space. “I was about to come to that, Commissar Rozovsky.” He turned toward the holograms and the theater map moved up toward Leningrad.

“As many of you know, Leningrad has been under siege for two years now, and despite the best efforts of the Getov, the might of the Rarus people has managed to hold them off while we have been sending them what supplies we can. Up until a few weeks ago, General Georg von Küchler, had been in command of the Upper Military Group, but that has Changed.” Zhukov took a breath and continued as a picture soon showed before everyone. “This is the new commander of the Upper Military Group, General Walther Model.”

Zhukov could see that several of the generals recognized the name. “I’m sure that those of you who took part in the Kursk operations remember the name. He was the one responsible for the difficult defenses that we encountered Rimward of the system.” He stood up straighter as he continued. “We don’t know why this has happened, but it is possible that General von Küchler fell out of favor with Hitler and was replaced by General Model.”

“This is a curious matter, considering that he seems to be the best defensive general that the Hitlerites seem to have,” General Vatutin said, leaning forward slightly. “I can see that he will make liberating that system far more difficult for us later on, but if we can cut them off, then it won’t matter.”

“It will be liberated either way,” Commissar Rozovsky said finally. “The fascists are on the defensive now and we will soon move on toward Europa Proper. After that, we will be able to spread the joys of socialism.”

First we have to get to Europa, and judging by how things are going, it will be far more difficult for us, Zhukov thought. “The operation begins in two weeks’ time,” he said firmly. “I want everyone to familiarize yourself with the plans we have and ready your men. This will be a hard fight, but with the lessons we have learned, we will push back the fascists to the gates of Berlin and never let them back up to threaten the Rodina again.”

Chapter Text

Year 13, Month 07, Day 13
Unknown Location
Birmingham, Midplane


Winston Churchill, along with a few members of the Allied General Staff and bodyguards, walked onto the base that was one of the few that existed on a long list of nonexistent bases. This one, however, housed a special battalion. Churchill smiled slightly, remembering the reputation of the people whom he was about to meet. As the General Staff officers were escorted to another part of the base, Churchill and a few of his bodyguards were following a very distinct sound that Churchill recognized easily. He followed a rough path that led him to a shooting range; standing there was a single male, firing what appeared to be a rifle that wouldn’t seem out of place on Earth.

The man firing the weapon sent five more rounds downrange until the bolt was held open, indicating the magazine was empty. Removing the magazine, he placed the rifle on the table and for the first time, noticed that he wasn’t alone. Seeing who it was, he immediately stood at attention and saluted. “Good afternoon, Prime Minister.”

Winston saluted back. “Good afternoon, Colonel. I apologize for standing here, but I did not want to interrupt your target practice.”

“Thank you, Prime Minister, but I’m afraid that this is the most excitement I receive after Sicily was secured. I was hoping that my commandos and I would be taking part in the upcoming invasion of Noria.”

“Here is not the place to discuss such things,” Winston said, looking around the base. He knew that this was a remote location, but in war, you could never be too careful. “Several members of the General Staff have come here to inform you of an upcoming operation that will require the unique abilities of yourself and your commandos.”

The colonel, intrigued by this statement by the Prime Minister, picked up his rifle and slung it over his shoulder. “Then let’s be off. I’m interested in seeing what you and the chaps on the General Staff have for us.”

Churchill hid a smile. This man’s personality was similar to the one he had hear so much about on Earth. The man was eccentric, daring, but was also a person who took his assignments seriously. “Please, lead the way,” he said, motioning with his hand.

***

Lieutenant Colonel John Malcolm Thorpe Fleming Churchill, of the 11th Special Air Service, read over the datapad that the General Staff officers had handed to him after everyone took their seats in the briefing room. The room was quiet, and Prime Minister Churchill, watched him read it, a small smile forming on the colonel’s face. The longer he took reading it, the more Winston was sure that the colonel would do it.

After several more minutes of silence in the room, Colonel Churchill looked up at everyone in the room. “Is this mission real?” he asked, almost in disbelief.

“It is,” General Eisenhower said. He remembered the fame that “Mad” Jack Churchill had, and he knew that this sort of operation that they were trying to assign him was just the type he would enjoy. “Just to let you know, this is a voluntary mission. If you don’t want to take it, you don’t have to.”

Colonel Churchill dropped the datapad onto the table, as if offended by the mere notion of him turning down the mission. “Bloody, hell,” he said. “This is exactly the type of mission that my boys and I would do.”

“So you accept the mission, Colonel?” asked Field Marshall Alan Brooke.

“I’ll be buggared if I don’t,” he replied, a smile coming to his face. “To rescue the King of Noria from under Jerry’s nose will be the highest point in my service to the Crown to date.” He stands up from his seat. “When can we begin?”

The Prime Minister and a few others chuckled at the eagerness of the Colonel. “You should at least know what to expect when you get there, and how you will be getting there in the first place,” he said.

“Forgive me for my enthusiasm,” he said, sitting back down. Everyone in the room could tell that he didn’t truly mean it, but they allowed it. “So what sort of opposition will my boys and I be facing?”

Field Marshal Alan Brooke handed a datacard to his adjutant, who got up and handed it to the colonel. “MI6 has managed to gain some information on the location of King Emanuel III.” In the middle of the room came a hologram showing a hotel. “This is the Hotel Campo Imperatore, the location where the King and his family is under house arrest. The defenders are believed to be a hundred members of the SS, as well as a couple of Hitler’s Teutonic Knights. These are former Jedi who were originally from Getov and left to help him in the war for conquest.”

“It shows the wonders of that man’s powers of persuasion if he is able to convince a Jedi to leave the Order,” Winston Churchill said, with many others nodding in agreement.

“It makes me wonder if perhaps he has some sensitivity to the Force as well,” mentioned General Eisenhower. That was a topic that many on the General Staff and a few in the various Allied governments were wondering as well, and a small fear that some had. What would happen if someone Force sensitive rose to power?

“Anyway,” Churchill said, bringing everything back on topic, “you and several squads of your men will be sent to Roma on a freighter that is going to be giving off the signal of a friendly resupply ship. Our friends in the Provisional Norian Government have informed us that this freighter has been making regular shipments to the hotel and the surrounding area. This spacecraft will be your method of entering and exiting the system. This operation will also take place eight hours before the invasion of Noria, which will be happening in a week.”

“We apologize for this being short notice for you, but this is information that we received only recently and we have only a small window to exploit this,” Eisenhower explained.

The commando was quiet for several seconds. “When will my boys and I be leaving for this assignment?” Colonel Churchill asked.

“Tonight,” Brooke replied, promptly.

“That doesn’t give me and the lads much time,” Colonel Churchill said. “But it should be enough for us. Give my men a few hours and we will be ready to rescue the King and stick it to Jerry.” A smile came to his face, and the others in the room joined him as well.

“Very well, Colonel,” Eisenhower replied. “You are dismissed. Get your men ready.”

“Thank you, General,” he said, saluting, and it was returned. “And good day to you, Prime Minister.” Winston gave him an nod and the colonel did an about face, leaving the room

“Do you think he will be able to do this?” Eisenhower asked, trying not to show concern.

“He is the most qualified individual for this type of mission, and I doubt that the Huns will be expecting this type of operation against them,” Winston explained. He did know that Eisenhower was worried that Hitler could have some suspicions about a mission like this, but it was a risk they would have to take. “Rescuing the King will give those in Noria a rallying point to our cause.”

“God help them,” Field Marshal Alan Brook said. “They are going to need it.”

Year 13, Month 07, Day 14
The Reich Chancellery
Berlin, Getov Prime


To say that the Fuhrer of the Greater Getov Reich was upset was an understatement. The war was not going how he had expected it to, and from what he was seeing in the briefing on the current situation of the war, things had the possibility of getting far worse.

In the middle of the room was a large hologram projector that was showing the entire Europa Region of the Sector, as well as the surrounding areas. All throughout the room, were members of the General Staff, the Nazi Party, and a couple of Teutonic Knights. Everyone was trying to avoid his gaze, except for the Knights were didn’t seem to be scared of anything.

He walked up to the hologram that was floating over a table. “What is the situation in Noria? Has Mussolini managed to regain control of his planets?”

Field Marshal Wilhelm Keitel cleared his throat. “Mein Fuhrer, those forces that have pledged their loyalty to King Emmanuel have continued to fight against those loyal to Mussolini. So far the rebels have managed to gain much ground on the planet Brindisi, and are holding their positions on Roma. Only on Milan is where we have managed to reclaim the most territory for our ally.”

Damn that man, Hitler thought. He had a lot of respect for the leader, being the one responsible for bring a fascist state into the galaxy, but when he had sent Heydrich to warn Mussolini about how the military was planning a coup against him, he never expected that his ally would place the king under house arrest. While the king was known for being indecisive at times, he was still a very popular leader. Dismissing several generals and then placing the king under house arrest resulted in a civil war between the royalists and the nationalists. The Allies will take advantage of this if they haven’t already.

“What forces do we have available to send in that area?” he asked, trying to control his anger with the situation.

Keitel was quiet for several moment before he answered. “Right now, we are having difficulty on allocating necessary forces to Noria.”

“What do you mean, difficulty?” Hitler demanded.

Keitel swallowed. “Mein Fuhrer, we have diverted much of our available forces to the Rarus Front in preparation for their upcoming offensive, and our intelligence points out that they will be attacking within the next few days. The partisans in the Balkans area have also increased their operations. We’ve had to send more of our forces there to secure our supply lines that run through that area, and the industrial centers needed extra protection.”

Damn untermensch. They don’t know when they are defeated, Hitler thought.

“There is also the movement of soldiers that you have done toward Floevis for the possibility of an invasion from Albion,” Keitel continued. “We have received information that General Patton has been relieved of his command on Sicily and will be sent to Albion to take command of the invasion force there. This appears to show that they will be conducting an invasion sometime in the near future.”

“He will not be in command of the invasion force,” Hitler said finally. “It’s is a deception by the Allies to make us believe that he will be leading the invasion.”

Most of the General Staff officers had a look of skepticism, but they quickly hid it. “Mein Fuhrer,” Admiral Canaris started, “General Patton is one of the best Allied commanders in the sector. I think we should factor that in. They wouldn’t move him from Noria unless there was a reason.”

Hitler glared at the admiral, knowing of the treachery that he was capable of, but there was little he could do at the moment. After seeing what had happened in Noria, he was reluctant to do anything about it, at least until the investigations he had going were able to find evidence. “He won’t be in command,” he said finally.

Reinhard Heydrich took that moment to step forward. “Admiral, I think you should trust in the Fuhrer’s judgment on this. After all, many of his judgement calls have been favorable for the Reich. From the invasion of Polanie (Poland) and Floevis (France) to the withdrawal of the Dnieper, our Fuhrer has made many decisions that seemed out of place to us, but they brought us many victories.”

No one in the room dared to bring up the fact that Hitler was confident that the Rarus Federation would have fallen after a few months of constant combat. Doing so would result in a shorter life than normal for many.

Hitler was pleased that Reinhard Heydrich was once again here to support him. The wisdom and capabilities of the former Jedi had been beneficial, and he had been insightful in how Hitler could explain some of his more in depth knowledge of certain situations of the various front. “The Allies will likely try to convince us that the invasion will be at Calais, but the location would likely be at Brittany.”

“Mein Furher,” Admiral Canaris said, “That makes no sense though. Calis is closer and has the space facilities to house an invasion force. It is also closer to the industrial planets that we have which can hurt our production capabilities. Brittany has nothing but fields and a few cities. None of that could help in supporting an invasion.”

“That is the reason why they would do it,” Hitler explained. “Brittany also provides the Allies with the staging point to move in to the rest of Floevis. The invasion will be very unlikely for us, especially since they will no doubt attempt to deceive us into thinking otherwise. I want to send what forces we have available to send in that region.”

“But where would you want us to take them from?” Keitel asked. “Most forces are on the Rarus Front or dealing with partisans in the Balkans. You also want to send forces to help our ally in Noria and fortify Floevis.”

Hitler held his temper at the insinuation that Keitel was making. “Sent some of our newest divisions to Floevis. They will be safe for a few months and they can use that time to prepare for the upcoming battle there. Our more experienced formations will go to Noria to help stabilize the region.”

"But what about the defenses of the fatherland?” Admiral Canaris asked. “We cannot leave it under-protected for strikes by the Allies.”

“Which is why I am having the SS and Teutonic Knights assist in the safely of the fatherland,” Hitler explained, calmly. “They are responsible for the safety of the Reich, and it is time that they were given the opportunity to prove it.” It will also allow be to eventually remove those who plan on assassinating me.

Admiral Canaris bristled slightly at the mentioning of this, but hid it from everyone.

“I shall begin issuing orders immediately,” Field Marshal Keitel said, and made a note of it on his datapad.

“What have we heard from our allies on Coruscant?” Hilter asked, Changing the subject.

Canaris spoke up. “We have received word that the Republic will be sending a Clone Army to assist the Allies in ending the war in this theater. We have the name of the Jedi commander and a possible departure day for the fleet.”

Hitler nodded at the report. “Give that information to Admiral Dönitz. He will make good use of that information.”

The meeting went on for another couple of hours before it was concluded. As everyone when their separate ways, Admiral Canaris had much to think about. He was a loyal Getov, but this madman of a leader was preparing to lead his country down and path of destruction. Placing more power within the SS and Teutonic Knights was a mistake and showed that Hitler was losing trust in his generals. The admiral would need to consult with the others, but the Gestapo had been very active recently. He would have to be careful.

Chapter Text

Year 13, Month 07, Day 15
Assam, Assam System
Katanian-controlled Indou


General Sun Li-jen brushed off the dust that had fallen on the holoprojector, distorting image of the planet. Right now, the battle for the planet was as difficult as the fighting was on Earth, if not more so when you threw in the advanced weaponry. General Stillwell had ordered several key locations to be secured to allow for reinforcements to arrive. Unfortunately, many these locations were easily identified by the Katanian defenders and many had been attacked in the early parts on the invasion. He had sent the Mandalorians under his command first into battle, and had secured the landing area faster than a force of greater size. His regiment was the first to fully secure their assigned area, and had made the most progress in capturing their objectives. However, that was all when the offensive was fresh. Now it had been going on for over a few weeks and they were fighting what would be equivalent to trench warfare, and it was far worse than what he had read about during his time at VMI. As far as he could tell, his regiment had made the greatest progress of all the forces, a fact that be placed on his alien allies.

The bunker that he was currently in, shook from an artillery round that impacted close by. His staff all stopped for a moment to see if anything followed, and continued their tasks after a few seconds. All of them having become used to the explosions that the Katanians would send into the area they controlled and had developed a sixth sense when it came to artillery and explosions.

General Sun looked down at the map and could see that the Katanian and Indou Nationalists were once again trying to make a push to breach his defenses, but he was confident that his forces would hold. This was the third attempt by them, and each time they were pushed back. He had a regiment of some of his best soldiers, and a company of aliens, holding that area.

Confident that the situation wouldn’t Chiange, and growing tired of the stuffy atmosphere of the bunker, he walked toward the exit and into the open air. He looked around and could see the artillery batteries, air defenses, medical facilities, and various other structures that would be needed to command the new 38th Division. He lit a cigarette and began walking toward where the explosions were happening.
His operating base was situated on some small mountains, allowing him to have the high ground, and when he reached a small ledge, he could see the lines of trenches that his soldiers were fighting in. Beyond the trenches was over a hundred meters worth of barren ground. In it he could see the smoldering hulks of several tanks and vehicles, but it was nothing compared to the bodies. There were countless Katanian, Kunian, and Indou bodies, all of them left exposed to the elements and causing the smell of death to permeate the field. He had attempted to have them removed, but after several of his men had been shot and killed by enemy fire, he was forced to leave them there, a grim reminder of just how terrible war was.

He could hear them approaching, and before long, he heard the artillery being fired and the sound of machines approaching. However, this was far larger than what he had seen earlier. Sun cocked his head to the side, trying to hear it better when he heard men and women around him start to yell, “Incoming!” Sun ran and leaped into the closest foxhole as explosions started all around him. He didn’t know how long the barrage lasted, but when it ended, he looked over the edge to see countless enemy infantry, supported by tanks moving toward the trenches.

“Damn it,” he said, watching as his men defended their lines. However, the Katanians continued to advance. There must be a whole division out there. He reached for his comlink, connecting him to the command center. “This is General Sun, what’s happening?”

“General,” came a voice on the other side, “A Katanian division just showed up out of nowhere! They’re trying to push through the trenches. They’re also trying to push up on our left flank, but our forces are currently holding that position.

Sun had to think fast for this. “Have the artillery fire on our forward positions. I want the Katanian soldiers slowed down. Our forces on the front are to begin withdrawing to secondary positions when the barrage starts, and have our snipers in place to provide them with some support. I also want the Wookiees sent to our left flank to ensure that it will hold.” Several explosions happened below him and he could see new craters in the trenches. “And see if we can get some air support.”

“Yes, sir,” the voice on the other side replied.

Sun looked down and could see the first trench line being reached by the Katanians. He saw the blaster bolts flying in different directions, and he pulled out his binoculars and looked down to see his men trying to hold back the tide. He then heard artillery being fired from behind, and a few seconds later, the field in front of the trenches was being filled with explosions.”

“Generrral,” came a familiar voice behind him. Sun look up from the trenches to see Lofykam with two more Wookiees behind him. “Arrre you alrrright?”

“I’m fine,” he said, firmly. “What are you doing here? I thought you would be leading the other Wookiees in reinforcing the left flank.”

“We are here to protect you from harm,” the Wookiee replied. “If you are to lose your life in battle, then this Regiment will lose its effectiveness.”

Sun wanted to say something, but he knew that the Wookiee, who had become a close friend, was right when it came to this. Sometimes the life debts can be a real annoyance, he thought. He had found it uncomfortable more than once, the special treatment that he received from the Wookiee leader, and was afraid that his men and superiors would see it as a hindrance. So far he had managed to quell any negative opinions with the improved performance, but Sun knew that all it would take was one mistake for it to come apart.

“Thank you for your concern, Lofie,” he said finally, and he stood there and watched as his men began to withdraw from the forward trenches. The trench line the Katanians had entered was lost, as were the men who had been there to defend it. He hated losing men, especially when he was there safe with the Wookiee bodyguards. He wanted to be there with his men, to show them that he was a soldier like they were. He debated with himself, trying to justify doing it, and reasons why he shouldn’t until he eventually came to a decision.

Reaching for his comlink, he connected himself to the command room. “General Zhen,” he said, asking for his second-in-command.

“Yes, sir,” Zhen answered.

“I’m heading down to the secondary defensive lines,” Sun replied. “Any new developments that come up, I want you to inform me immediately.”

There was a pause on the comlink before he heard an answer. “General, with all due respect, I must advise against this. Generals are not supposed to be at the front with the fighting.”

“I have taken your advice under consideration and I will stay with my decision,” Sun said finally. “If anything is to happen to me, you are in command of the regiment, and be sure to treat the aliens with respect.”

“Yes, sir,” Zhen said, “and good luck.”

General Sun placed his comlink into his pocket and took out an earpiece. Placing it in his ear and looked around and picked up an American sub-repeating blaster. He remembered that it was called the Thompson and smiled slightly at the familiarity of it. Looking up at the three Wookiees behind him he said, “Come on. The men down there are going to need all the help they can get.”

***

Private Liu Han was keeping her head down as Katanian infantry continued to charge through the lines of trenches. She had watched as the first line of tranches had been overrun by the sheer number of soldiers running toward them. Then she heard that the second line was to hold off the advance while the rest were to fall back to secondary defensive positions. She was one of those in the third line that was to fall back, but she had many friends in the first and second tranches, and she knew that she had a small chance of seeing them again.

“Move it!” a sergeant barked. “We have to get to the secondary positions or we’ll get overwhelmed, and you all know what will happen of that Katanians capture you.”

Liu was all too familiar with the way they would take their revenge. Her entire village had been destroyed by a Katanian attack and she had been one of the few to survive the initial bombardment. What came after was far worse: Katanian soldiers walked in and began killing and men and boys and raping the women and girls. She had been a victim herself of many different “partners” but they soon grew bored and began killing everyone. She was one of the few to escape and soon found herself on one of the few transports off until she arrived in Indou and part of the 38th Regiment. She had convinced herself that she wanted to fight to get back at Katania for what they did to her family and friends, but her first experiences in combat were too frightening for her, and she spent most of the time hiding.

Now, she was running to the secondary defensive lines, trying to stay safe. She would run a few meters then take cover behind some debris. Liu would then wait a few seconds and then repeat the process, and all this time she would hear artillery landing behind her and the yells of the Katanian soldiers behind her. Each time got up and crouched to run, she expected to be hit with a laster bolt or stabbed by a bayonet or sword, but each time, she survived. Soon, she reached the next line of trenches and leaped in, barely missing another soldier.

She sat down on the ground, leaning against the wall of the trench as more soldiers either leaped into the trench with her or over the trench to continue running. “I don’t want to do this anymore,” she said to herself. More blaster fire started to come, and she tried to move farther back along the trench lines until she heard a roar that was inhuman. She looked up and saw what looked like a monster, carrying a large weapon in its hands and firing at the Katanian soldiers. There were three of them, along with a man wearing a uniform with a general’s markings.

General Sun raised his blaster and fired several bursts as the enemy moved toward the trenches he stood in. Artillery landed in front of him, taking several soldiers with every explosions, but they continued to advance. His Wookiee bodyguards taking down a Katanian with every shot fired, their roars joining the noise of battle around him. He continued to fire until he ran out, and he ducked down into the trench to replace the magazine and looking to his left, he saw a young woman leaning against the wall of the trench, a look of terror on her face as the fighting raged around them, watching him.

He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright?” All she did was stare at him blankly. “Come on, Private,” he shouted, trying to be heard over the noise around them. “Get on your feet!” He shook her gently trying to snap her out of the daze she was in, and she slowly began to rise. “You can do it.”

Liu brought her blaster up, aiming down the sights, praying to her ancestors. The whole time, she could hear General Sun shouting. “Fire your weapon. Kill those Katanians!” It wasn’t in a tone that you would hear from a sergeant who was trying to scare you into do it. It was more like a father trying to encourage her. She pulled the trigger, sending a blaster bolt downrange, hitting a Katanian soldier. She fired again, with the same result. She continued to repeat the action, and soon lost herself in the motions. Occasionally, she would hear General Sun yelling something reassuring. She wasn’t sure if it was to her or those around them, but she felt like it was harnessing something within her, causing something that she never knew existed to stir.

Her blaster soon ran out, and had to replace the magazine with a fresh one. All the time, General Sun was near, accompanied by the Wookiees and shouting at the men to continue firing and to not let up. She saw something out of the corner of her eye.

“Generrral,” said one of the Wookiees, as he fired another shot, “Something is coming our way.”

Sun looked up to see an air speeder flying in their direction, firing its heavy blaster into the Katanian advance. As it moved overhead, he saw three armored beings leap out of it in mid-air, and they soon began to fly across the battlefield, taking shots with their blasters and killing a Katanian soldier with each one. The Mandalorians, he thought.

“General Sun, this is Jorund Valen of the Mandalorians,” came a voice over his comlink. “General Zhen sent myself and a few others to help hold this front. I wasn’t informed that you would be here fighting with them.”

“The men needed to see that their commander fight with them,” Sun replied firmly.

“It is good to see that not all Terran commanders are like those of the rest of the galaxy,” Jorund said, a hint of admiration in his voice. He landed behind a wrecked tank, firing his blaster rifle at passing Katanian soldiers, his two companions joining him behind the wreck; the three warriors dropping several soldiers that approached their position. The air speeder they rode in flew overhead, firing rockets and creating enormous explosions in the Katanian advance.

Jorund was enjoying himself. He had originally been unsure of the contract he had signed with the Nationalists of Kunia, but after fighting the Katanians he realized that this fight was one of the most invigorating. The Katanians were as fierce fighters as the Mandalorians, with a culture that respected warriors. “We’re going to clear an opening for the Kunians,” he said. “Let’s see if we can get these soldiers to push through a hole we can make.”

The three Mandalorians flew up into the air, distancing themselves from each other. Those on either side of Jorund fired the missiles they carried, clearing a large area in front of them and producing a crater. The three of them began firing their blasters as they flew toward the crater, taking down several soldiers and bringing attention toward them. It mattered little to them. Jorund landed on the edge of the crater as more warriors attempted to rush him. He leaped into the air, releasing flames from his gauntlets and creating a ring of fire around him, catching several Katanians on fire that were too close. Those that were farther fired their blasters, but his armor only received scorch marks.

More blaster bolts came toward him, but these were from behind. His helmet showing that Kunian soldiers were moving toward his location, firing their blasters and shouting in their language. A roar came in from the east, and everyone looked up to see fighters coming in with the markings of the American military. Flying over the enemy, they dropped their payload, ripping holes in the lines of the Katanian army, throwing them in disarray.

Jorund didn’t stop, and he continued to fight on, moving forward as more and more soldiers of the Kunian army joined in the advance. Soon, they reached the original defensive lines, having killed countless numbers of Katanian and Indou soldiers behind them, the Kunians unleashing an untold furry at the atrocities they had suffered from their most hated enemy.

Moving beyond the tranches, he encountered fewer organized resistance and began to see some of the surviving Katanian soldiers, those that had been lucky enough to either survive the bombing, attempt to surrender or end their lives. All of them were stopped by the stun blasts from the Kunian soldiers, who began to beat them, and sometimes shooting a limb at a time with a blaster. They would then be left alone for the animals to eat.

Jorund could understand their anger, and made no effort to stop them. Beside him, General Sun, along with his Wookiee bodyguards seemed repulsed by the behavior of his soldier, but knew that an attempt to stop them would be pointless.
“You did a good job, Jorund,” Sun said, trying to ignore the savagery around him.

“Thank you, General, but you shouldn’t be here,” Jorund replied. “A Katanian sniper could take you out easily from the forest.”

“I suppose you haven’t heard the news then,” Sun said, replacing the magazine of his Thompson. “This attack was made up of all Katanian forces in this sector of the planet. There is nothing left but a huge hole that General Stillwell wants us to exploit immediately and we are to begin moving forward within the next hour.”

“Sounds fun.” Jorund turned, leaving General Sun and his Wookiees behind as his airspeeder landed nearby. He was joined by his companions and stepped into the speeder. There was a hum of the repulsors as it took off the ground and back toward their barracks.


As it flew off into the distance, Lofykam muttered, “I don’t trrrust him. He’s not honorrrable.”

Sun didn’t say anything, his opinions of the Mandalorians similar to that of the Wookiee. If a contract and the thrill of battle were all that was holding him and his compatriots on the side of the Nationalists, then what was to prevent him from joining a different side of the conflict? “I don’t like it either, Lofie, but right now, we need to use whatever we can to win this war.” I just hope we don’t end up regretting any of the decisions we’ve had to make in the process.

Chapter Text

Year 13, Month 07, Day 18
Hotel Campo Imperatore
Roma, the Empire of Noria



Colonel Jack Churchill and his commandos were slowly moving toward the Hotel that was on top of the hill. The information that they had received when they arrived at Sicily had updated their information on the hotel. The fighting on the planet had caused a higher state of readiness for many locations, but the popularity of the King had resulted in the commandos having more allies in the surrounding countryside.

The natives had pointed out that the number of personnel guarding the hotel had dropped, with the conflict on the planet continuing and the need for bodies to fight against the Norian Royalists. This meant that the garrison force of one hundred SS soldiers had been reduced to fifty. They had been informed that the Teutonic Knights were still there, and he knew they could pose as a potential problem to their operation.

It was to be expected, Jack thought. He held up his hand, signaling for the others to hold their position. He crawled forward a few meters until he reached the man who had been on point, a few dozen meters ahead of the rest. “What did you see,” he asked.

“There was one checkpoint at the front entrance with three men,” the point man reported, his voice barely above a whisper. “Two guards roving the perimeter, and I count at least three or four men on the roof. The rest are inside with the Royal Family.”

Churchill nodded and thanked him. They had planned for this, but they would have to move fast. He switched on his comlink and set it to the team’s personal frequency. “I want snipers with eyes on those on the roof. If they look like they are about to cause trouble, I want them dealt with.” He received a click of acknowledgement and he moved back to where the others were.

“Boys, we need to enter that hotel as quickly as possible to not allow for them to respond,” Colonel Churchill said quietly. “Pierce; Alec, I want you two to follow the roving guards. When they are out of sight of those in front, kill them. Myself and Gordon will take care of the two in front. The rest of you will follow us after we are finished.” He looked around to see the acknowledgement and determination in his fellow commandos faces. He knew that these men would follow him to the death if they had to.

“Gentlemen,” he said finally, “let’s get moving.”

He and Lieutenant Gordon slowly moved up toward the entrance of the hotel. He could see Pierce and Alec moving toward the west, following the two roving sentries, and somewhere behind him, the snipers were watching the sentries on the roof. “Snipers,” he whispered into his comlink. “Fire when ready.”

Barely audible over the mountain winds, he could hear a soft pop and both he and Gordon moved up, trusting that the sentries on the roof had been killed. Sprinting the last few meters, Churchill pulled out his knife and managed to stab it into the Getvo soldier’s throat, a gurgling sound coming from his mouth as blood trickled out of it. Gordon’s target was faster to react and managed to block the initial stab, but he quickly countered with a head-butt to the face. The Getov was stunned for only a second, but it was all that was needed. Gordon jabbed with his palm on the soldier’s neck, crushing his windpipe. He began to thrash around and Gordon threw him on the ground to try and prevent any noise.

“Schuster,” came a voice from inside, “was ist los da draußen?” [Schuster, what’s happening out there?]

Bollocks. “All men, move up,” he whispered into his comlink. “We’re about to get some company.”

He heard footsteps approaching. “Schuster? Ich habe mir gedacht, dass ich so etwas gehört hier.” [Schuster? I thought I heard something out here.]

Both British officers leaned against the wall, listening as the footsteps came closer. Colonel Churchill could see the very edges of the Getov soldier and quickly grabbed him by his coat and trying to drag him to the side, but the Getov struggled to get away. He plunged his knife into the man’s chest, and he could see that the soldier was about to scream when Gordon grabbed the soldier from behind and placed his hand over the man’s mouth.

“Was machen Sie?” [What are you doing?] Both Churchill and Gordon looked to see another Getov soldier, wearing an SS uniform, advancing toward them; a repeating blaster in his hands. The soldier raised it, pointing at the two commandos and fired several shots.

Churchill reacted quickly and placed the body of the stabbed soldier in front of him, stopping the blaster bolts as he moved to the side. Gordon pulled out his Webley blaster pistol and fired three bolts at the Getov. The first bolt missed, but the other two hit the soldier in the chest, knocking him to the ground, his uniform smoking.

Inside the structure, the blaster fire caused the SS guards to grab their weapons and move toward the ground floor to investigate what had happened. Outside, the SAS commandos had moved up and were beginning to move inside, a few at a time and always behind cover. After several commandos entered the building, firefights soon broke out between the Albion and the Getov to gain control of the hotel lobby.

Churchill ducked behind the front desk of the hotel, accompanied by two other commandos as blaster bolts impacted the wall overhead. When it stopped, the two commandoes began firing. Churchill, readying his blaster rifle, brought it over the top of the cabinet and began to fire at the SS soldiers that were coming down the stairs and hallways.

After bringing down three of them, he took cover behind the desk and activated his comlink. “We need to disable their communications. Greyson, do you read me?”

“This is Lieutenant Greyson,” came a voice. “My section and I will take care of it. We need some covering fire while we move forward into that corridor.”

"We’ll provide that for you, Greyson.” He did a final check of his weapon and shouted, “Covering fire!”

Colonel Churchill and several other commandos rose from cover and began firing their blasters and any Getov soldier. As they fired, several other commandoes moved through the lobby and toward the back, firing their blaster to keep the SS down as they moved toward the communications room. When they were out of sight, Churchill shouted, “Forward men!” and started to move toward the stairway that led to the floors above. Reaching the stairs, they moved up quickly, but ready for any surprises that the SS had for them. As they passed every floor, a section of commandos would sweep the floor for the king and to tie down any Getov soldiers from hitting them from behind.

He could hear firefights breaking out as each floor was cleared, but he continued to move up the stairs, readying himself for what he knew was going to happen. The king would be on the top floor. He was certain of. It would ensure the king would not be able to escape from the hotel, especially when there were three floors of Getov SS guarding the building. As he reached the door to the top floor, he paused and looked back at the dozen SAS commandos that were accompanying him. Taking a deep breath, he gave his men a slight smile, and kicked the door in.

He was the first man through the door, and felt the heat of a blaster bolt miss his head by a few inches. Churchill turned in that direction, firing his blaster at the soldier and saw him fall back. However, there were over a dozen more behind him. He got down on one knee, making himself a smaller target continued to fire.

One of the SAS commandos that had followed him kicked in a door and Jack followed him, others close behind. A couple stayed in the stairway, firing their blasters and providing cover. “Ready stun grenades!” a soldier yelled. Colonel Churchill covered his ears as several were thrown down the hallway. A flash and boom soon followed and several commandos stepped out, firing their blasters at the dazed SS soldiers.

Yelling could be heard, and it soon became silent as the SAS slowly moved up the hallway. Colonel Churchill leaned out and saw several bodies, all of them wearing the camouflaged uniform of Getov SS. The colonel and his twelve commandos approached a door that had been reinforced with extra security, evidence that the King Emmanuel and his family was in the room. He motioned for one of his soldiers to begin working on the lock while the others took positions on either side of the door.

He had just motioned the last one to move when the door and the surrounding wall exploded. The commandos thrown against the wall or down the hallway from the blast. Churchill noticed something different from this explosion. There were no flames; no heat. This wasn’t a typical blast. He had been the farthest from the burst and he struggled to stand up. Two of the commandos were attempting to get up as well, but suddenly, the both of them began to float in the air, grabbing their throats and gasping for breath as if they were being strangled. Out of the remains of the wall came a man in black armor, a red cross on his shoulder-guards and chest. His left hand was raised slightly, as if holding something in it, and in his right hand, a cylinder was held. He held it out to the side, and a sound that was familiar all across the galaxy was heard. The snap-hiss of a lightsaber being ignited reverberated down the hallway, and it a single, quick stroke, the two commandoes were sliced in half, their legs and lower torso falling to the ground while the rest of them continued to levitate in midair. Their faces contorted into that of shock as they realized that they were no longer whole, and attempted to scream. The Teutonic Knight, clinched his left hand into a fist and the bodies stopped struggling, hanging lifeless in the air for a few seconds until they fell to the ground.

Churchill pulled out his sword, anger rising up at the casualness of this knight at killing two human beings. “You will pay for that,” he said coolly.

The knight turned his head, as if curious at the fact he was being challenged. “I know who you are,” the man said in accented English. “You are Colonel John Churchill. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you would have been part of this operation.” He turned the rest of his body to face the colonel.

Churchill gripped the hilt of his sword and ran forward, his blade ready to strike. He sliced downward, but was stopped by the blue blade of the Knight’s lightsaber. He pulled his blade away and made a sweep from the left for the knight’s legs, but it was blocked again. He again made a sweeping motion toward the Getov’s head, the blow again obstructed by the former Jedi’s blade. They both stood there, their blades locked, their eyes staring into the other’s as they both tried to overtake the other in strength. The knight gave a shove and broke the two of them apart, he then held up his hand, unleashing a Force push and sending Colonel Churchill flying back several feet.

Laying on his back, Churchill looked to see the Knight running toward him, the blade out to the side as he came closer. Less than a yard away, the knight raised his lightsaber, ready to finish Churchill off with a single strike, but at the last possible second, he rolled to the side, avoiding the blade as it impacted the floor, leaving a gash. He saw there was a look of surprise on the knight’s face, and Churchill took advantage of this small pause. He kicked the man, sending him onto the floor and got to his feet, distancing himself from this very dangerous person. Churchill was on guard. He had been briefed on the Teutonic Knights and how they had been former Jedi, and it had been one of the reasons he carried his Damascus steel claymore. The Force was a powerful tool for them to use, and he needed to be careful.

The knight stood up, holding his deactivated lightsaber in his hand and giving Churchill and appraising look. “I must say that I am impressed with your abilities, and your Damascus steel sword. A very rare weapon, indeed,” he said calmly. “There are very few who are able to last this long against someone like myself, but it matters little.” The lightsaber was ignited. “You will not win this fight.”

Churchill put himself in a defensive stance. He needed to make sure he was ready for any surprises. He heard a small rumbling, and saw part of the wall break away and fly toward him. He quickly dodged it, but soon saw that another, and another were flying toward him. Churchill quickly dodged all of them, trying to pay attention to both the missiles and the knight sending them in his direction.

Have to change tactics, Churchill thought. Need to get closer. As another piece of debris flew toward him, he ducked, rolling on the ground and coming closer to the knight.

Realizing that the colonel was trying to reduce the distance between them, the Knight ran toward the Albion commando, trying to remain calm. He knew of the fame and skill of “Mad Jack”, but he was surprised at just how skilled and determined that the commando was. He would have to finish this quickly or else this man may actually defeat him. The former Jedi swung his saber sideways, but it was soon blocked by Churchill’s blade. It slid down the beam of energy as the commando took a quick step forward and with speed that was unexpected, the commando pulled out his blaster pistol and fired it point-blank.

The knight stumbled back slightly, covering a spot on his torso that was smoking. Churchill stood up strait, taking deep breaths, and the hint of a smile coming to his face. “Didn’t expect that, did you?”

The former Jedi looked up at the commando, and he soon stood up strait, a smile coming to his face as he removed his hand from where he had been shot to reveal armor that had a crater from the blaster bolt. “Actually,” he said, “I did.” He raised his hand, blue lightning shooting out from his fingertips, enveloping the commando and sending him flying back.

Churchill gasped, trying to breathe. The electric shock that he received affecting his body in ways he never thought possible. He tried to move but felt as if he weighed a ton. He realized that he was laying sideways in the hallway, and managed to turn his head to see the knight walking slowly toward him.

“You are as impressive as I have been told,” the knight said, walking around him. “I would enjoy to learn more about your fighting style, but you won’t be in any condition to share them with me.” His face showing what could almost be considered pity. “How unfortunate.” He raised his saber into the air, ready to deliver the final blow.

A blaster went off, and the knight quickly turned around, the blade deflecting it. Another bolt, then another, and another soon followed, all of them deflected. It was only a moment, but it was all that Churchill needed. Gripping the hilt of his blade, and summoning the last of his will and strength, he sat up and plunged the blade into the back of the Teutonic Knight.

The knight gasped, looking down at the blade of iron that was pointing through his stomach. “No,” he said, almost a whisper. He fell to his knees.

“Take that you Jerry bastard,” Churchill said, trying to keep himself sitting upright. He looked and the man down the hallway to see a diminutive man, who couldn’t be taller than a meter and a half. The man held a blaster in his hand. So this is the person who saved my life.

In front of the knight stood King Victor Emmanuel III. In Norian he said, “As leader of the Kingdom of Noria, I hereby sentence you to death for crimes against the people and the rightful government of Noria.” The former Jedi let out a cry of defiance, readying his saber for a strike, but the king fired a bolt into the knight’s face, dropping him to the ground. He walked toward Churchill, extending a hand. “Are you alright, Colonel?”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Churchill replied, taking the hand and using the old rifle that was still on his back as an improvised cane.

In Norian, the king shouted something, and out of the room came the wife and his family. They all looked around at the damage, and especially the bodies of the commandos who had been killed. His family stood there for a seconds, but soon began to check on the commandos who were laying throughout the hallway.

As they did this, Churchill reached for his comlink. “This is Colonel Churchill, what’s the status of the rest of the men?”

“All floors are secured and no communications have been sent since our arrival,” a voice reported.

“Excellent,” he replied. He took another look at the Norian Royal Family and saw that several of his men were beginning to come to. Apparently having been knock unconscious by the Force explosion. He would have to remember to buy a round of beer for the men when they returned, and to remember those who had fallen. “I have the king. Call the transport to pick us up at the hotel so we can get out of here.“

“Yes, sir. I will let them know immediately.”

Colonel Churchill acknowledged the replied and walked over to the body of the Teutonic Knight. Reaching down, he pulled out his sword, the blood still staining the blade. Grabbing the white cloak, he wiped off the blood before placing it back in the sheath, and saw another object that caught his interest: the knight’s lightsaber. He picked it up, careful to keep his thumb off the ignition button and examined it. Attaching the lightsaber to his belt, he looked back at his fellow commando who were beginning to pull themselves together after the explosion.

He walked up to a couple, looking them over to see if any had any noticeable injuries. “You lads alright?” he finally asked. They all answered, saying they were fine minus a few bumps and bruises from the blast. “Good to hear.” Churchill turned to face the king. “Your Highness, allow me to introduce myself. I am Lieutenant Colonel John Churchill of His Majesty’s Special Air Service. I am here to take you and your family out of here. I have a feeling the Jerry won’t be sitting on their arses too long when they receive word of what has happened here.”

The king nodded and acknowledgment and in accented English, he said, “I thank you for this. My family and I are in your debt for this.”

“Your Majesty, you saved my life not too long ago,” he said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I consider that debt fulfilled.” Churchill saw the king smile, and even though he towered over the monarch, the king was a giant.

Chapter Text

Year 13, Month 07, Day 18
HMS Warspite
Brindisi, the Empire of Noria


Turbolasers lanced across the vacuum as Admiral Cunningham’s flagship launched fighters from its hangars. Cruisers and destroyers serving as escorts as his flagship moved closer to the defenses of the planet, launched missiles and fired their batteries at the remaining Norian fighters as they attempted to hold back the tide of the Allied fleet. A Norian heavy cruiser, one that had stayed loyal to Mussolini, moved toward the battle group, trying to prevent them from advancing any further. The Allied ships fired their turbolasers, peppering the shields of the cruiser as it fired its own weapons. The shields didn’t hold for long, and soon collapsed under the combined assault, the hull being hit by countless bolts of energy. Realizing that it was about to lose, the cruiser’s engines went to full power, attempting to ram the allied vessels. Bombers sped toward the engines, escorted by fighters as they made runs in the cruiser to disable them. The Allied ships began to maneuver out of the ship’s path as it approached them, and soon a large explosion at the aft end of the Norian cruiser erupted. The enemy ship began to slow down.

“Admiral, enemy cruiser has lost propulsion systems,” the sensor operator reported.

“Good,” Admiral Cunningham said calmly. “Maneuver us around the vessel and mark its location. It will prove useful for our Norian allies.”

“Yes, sir,” he replied.

“Sir, I have Admiral Bergamini on the line,” the communication officer reported. “He says that he is sending two destroyers to guide our ships through the mine field. He also sends his thanks for the rescue of King Emmanuel III.”

“Tell him I say thank you for the ships, and that I am happy that His Majesty’s government has saved their leader from a man who would send his country into civil war.” When the message was sent, Cunningham could see the destroyers approaching, and he was thinking that the strategies they had made for the invasion were going well.

The invasion of Brindisi was split into two separate invasions. One was focused on taking the orbital shipyards and what defense platforms were available. Many structures had been destroyed in the civil war that Noria was fighting, but what few there were, were being seized by the Allies and Norian Royalists. From the reports that he had heard, about half of the ships that had been in port at the beginning of the civil war had either been destroyed or sided with Mussolini, most of them the heavier capital ships that were in Noria’s inventory, but enough had been held by the Royals to give them a decent fighting force. The other half of the invasion was on the planet itself, to secure key locations on the planet, a task that was to be initiated when a safe path had been mapped through the mine field.

“Sir, the captain of the destroyer Oriani reports that he will be our guide through the minefield,” the comm officer reported.

Cunningham acknowledged the report, feeling nervous about having to move through a minefield with a Norian ship to guide them. He watched as the destroyer moved through the defenses, his ships following close behind and leaving a trail for other Allied ships to follow them. Many of them transport ships and their fighter escorts for when they began the invasion of the surface.

“We are half way through,” the navigational officer reported, his hand pressing the appropriate keys and switches as they moved slowly.

Norian and Getov fighters would fly through the formation, causing damage to several vessels, but none of it serious. The escorting fighters were keeping most away from the ships and the few that did manage were quickly stopped by their laser cannons.

“We are through the minefield, Admiral,” the nav officer reported. “I am transmitting the route to the rest of the fleet.”

“Good job,” Cunningham said, quietly letting out a sigh of relief. “Have our escorts begin bombardment of assigned targets. I want our fighters and bombers to clear the landing zones for our men when they reach the surface, and see if they can assist any of our Norian friends in dealing with Jerry down there.” As the orders were issued, he couldn’t help but think about General Rommel. He had been an enemy on Earth, one of the most dangerous, but now he was one of the Allies’ best commanders. He whispered a silent prayer, asking for the safety of everyone who would be part of the landing force, knowing full well that not all of them would.

***

The transport shuddered as it moved through the atmosphere of the planet, and General Rommel held onto his seat as he tried to keep his breakfast from that morning rising back up. Reentry was an experience he dreaded after his first experience in Sicily, and it was a time where he truly felt vulnerable. One well-placed hit would turn the ship into a coffin for himself and his staff. He wondered if perhaps this was what the American soldiers when they were moving up on Normandy, and he immediately thought of what sort of plans Allied Command had in store for those invasions.

“Landing zone ETA: five minutes,” the pilot of the transport reported over the comm.

Rommel took that chance to issue an order to his men. “Men, prepare yourselves. You heard what the pilot reported.” He looked around in his tank as the crew began preparations for landing. Outside, he could hear the infantry that were to be supporting his staff for his Corp Headquarters. He knew that most Corp commanders would prefer to stay on a command ship and wait until the area was secured, but Rommel was a fighting man and he would be with his men.

“Three minutes.”

Rommel heard sergeants ordering men to ready weapons for the upcoming landing. The laser cannons on the transport were beginning to fire and he felt the rumble of anti-air weaponry hitting the shields. “Is that cannon ready?” he asked his gunner.

The gunner made one last check on the tank’s main weapon and game Rommel a nod. “Gun is ready for action, General.”

Rommel took a minute to say a brief prayer and adjust the scarf around his neck. Another invasion on Europa, and hopefully it would bring the war closer to being finished, and Hitler being given the justice he deserved. He felt the transport shake as it landed on solid ground, and the forward hatch opened, the light of the morning flowing in. Almost as soon as the hatch opened, a blaster bolt few in, hitting the opposite wall and sparks falling to the floor. Sergeants and officers yelled for their men to move forward.

“Driver, move us forward!” Rommel commanded. “All tanks follow me!” He felt his vehicle jerk as it advanced down the ramp and toward the city of Taranto. He could see smoke and explosions as Allied forces and their Norian allies battled those that were loyal to Mussolini and Getov. Sticking his head out of the copula, he tried to get a better view of the battlefield. “Bunker: eleven o’clock.”

His gunner adjusted the trajectory of the cannon, bringing it to bear on the target. “Identified!”

“Fire!”

The cannon unleashed a thunderous roar as a laser bolt flew from the barrel. The bunker exploding but was still standing; its cannons turning to target the vehicle that had fired upon it.

“Again!” Rommel commanded, and another bolt was sent downrange, impacting the bunker and covering it in fire. The bunker was silent, and he took that as a sign that the crew was dead. The infantry with them moved ahead, screening them from any opposing soldiers who may try to ambush the Allied tanks.

Rommel brought up a map of the battlefield, with real-time information, showing the location of what units were where. Information that had been provided by the Norian Royal Army. He could see that the fighting within the city was going to be the toughest. Taranto had been split between the Norian Royalists and the Nationalists. The later controlled the industrial and government buildings. Structures that were designed to hold against a major attack. He could see that there were three mountain passes that gave a line of retreat or reinforcement for the enemy. Switching to a different frequency, he connected himself to the ships in orbit. “This is General Rommel, I need a regiment at these two locations…” He gave the references needed and was promised they would arrive in fifteen minutes. The Navy captains saying they would provide air support to prevent any Getov forces from using the passes.

A tank exploded, off to the left of Rommel’s. He stuck his head up, looking for the direction where it came from. The infantry, pointing toward the building where the rocket had originated. “All tanks, open fire on that building.” The building was designated and eleven tanks unleashed dozens of laser bolts into the structure until it crumbled.

In the sky above, fighters flew overhead, some of them barely above the rooftops as they bombed and blasted the strongpoints of the Nationalists forces. Hawker gunships flew close to the ground, banking left and right as they moved through the narrow streets of the city. Many of them would be dropping off soldiers to help secure buildings and proved a path of relative safety through the city, but commanding a tank in urban combat was something that Rommel would not take part in. He remembered how Stalingrad had chewed up countless lives in an environment where every building was a fortress and a handful of men could hold off an entire company.

Switching to a different frequency, he connected himself to the Corp Intelligence Division. “What’s the status of the Norian Royal Army’s forces?” Rommel asked.

“Most are concentrated within the city, attempting to retake the industrial and government sections,” the intelligence officer replied. “There are several companies who are holding various sections of the city, but the Getov forces in the area are in the area are attempting to push out. Royalists are attempting to hold them in place but their equipment isn’t as good as ours.”

Rommel looked down at his map to see that several formations were trying to push out of the city’s government district. “I’m sending Hawker gunships to see if they can cause problems. Inform our commanders that they will be losing some air support for a few minutes.”

General Erwin Rommel looked over the map, the locations of several Getov and Nationalist forces revealed, and those that belonged to the Allies as they pushed through the city and toward the industrial district. Half a day’s worth of fighting had resulted in hundreds of casualties for the Allies, but the enemy had been pushed back. Now they had only two choices: surrender or try and withdraw. He had discussed with Admiral Cunningham what to do if they tried to make a run for it. After they broke through the lines and were away from Allied forces, the ships in orbit would bombard the area, leaving nothing.

He looked up as Major Mason walked in with a datapad in hand. He stood at attention and saluted, which was promptly returned. “Sir, I have a message for you from General Clark.”

Rommel took the datapad and looked over the information that was displayed. He remembered how General Clark had been criticized for his performance in the Salerno invasion, so Rommel had made a point to work with him and discuss different possibilities on how Getov commanders would react. He knew that if the defenders of Sicily had been able to withdraw, then perhaps there would be a larger defending force here, but with the loss of several experienced divisions, then there was the chance that the invasion could go quicker than back on Earth.

“General Clark is encountering stiff resistance, but it was far less than expected,” he said, looking up from the datapad.

“That is good to hear, General,” Mason replied. He walked over to the map of the planet to see the city of Salerno and what the latest intelligence reports were indicating.

Rommel joined him as several members of his Staff were routing orders and sending reports to their various commands in his corp. “Tell him, good job and to keep up the good work, but inform him that there have been indications that General Vietinghoff may be planning on a counter-offensive.”

“I will, General.” He took a closer look at the map as it Changed to Taranto and the surrounding area. “It appears that we will be able to achieve all of our objectives in this area.”

“That all depends on whether or not the Nationalists decide to surrender or not,” Rommel said, finally. “I would rather them surrender.”

“We can’t do anything if they choose to fight, but I agree with you, General. Surrender would be far easier for us then having to bombard them into submission.”

The building shook, and Rommel looked up at the ceiling to see if it would collapse, but instead, dust fell to the floor. His Corp HQ was not in the City Hall. That would be too tempting a target, and there had been several artillery barrages on the structure after the government district had fallen. Instead, he had moved his command into a large bank that was a few blocks down the road that had avoided much of the fighting.

“General, I have the commander of the Nationalist forces on the comm. He says he wishes to speak to you personally,” the comm officer reported.

Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing to look at Rommel. He looked over at Colonel Mason who merely shrugged. Rommel quietly took a deep breath and walked over to the comm station. Taking the headset and putting it on he spoke, “This is General Erwin Rommel. To whom am I speaking with?”

“General Russo, of the Norian National Army,” a voice replied. “I am here to discuss a ceasefire between our two militaries.”

“I am sorry, but I will not accept any ceasefire from you or any other Norian commander in this city,” Rommel replied. “I will accept your surrender.” There was silence on the other side and Rommel chose to continue. “You and your forces have fought a difficult battle, but you are now surrounded and have little chance to escape. If you value the lives of your men and want to prevent any further destruction to the city, I suggest that you surrender.”

The line was quiet for what felt like a long time, but Rommel soon heard a response. “Do I have your word as a fellow soldier that I and the men I command will be treated as prisoners of war?”

Rommel was quiet for a few more seconds, wanting to cause the Norian commander some discomfort before he gave his response. “You have my word, General.”

An audible sigh could be heard on the other side of the line. “Very well, General. I will begin to relay orders to my men of our surrender. Will an hour do for the word to spread to the rest of my men?”

Looking around at the rest of his men, Rommel nodded. He replied, “An hour will be long enough. I will pass the word to my men and superiors as well.”

“Thank you, General Rommel,” and the line was turned off.

“Inform Admiral Cunningham that the remaining Norian forces have offered to surrender to us,” the general ordered. “Spread the word that they will be surrendering in an hour, and to be careful until then. There are still plenty who would be willing to kill a few more Allied soldiers before they surrender.

“I also want a roll and inventory made by 2100. Tomorrow, we’ll move out to continue pushing to keep Norian and Getov forces off balance and link up with General Clark at Salerno. We have a month to do this people and I want this planet secured a quickly as possible.”

As officers throughout the room began the tasks of completing the orders they had been issued, Rommel walked out to try and stretch. He was pushing his men, but this was something he expected of them. They needed to keep the pressure up, or else Getov forces may be able to create a perimeter that could turn into something from the trenches of the Great War. No, he had to keep going. Every moment that Hitler was in power was one too many.

Not this time, he thought. Not this time.

Year 13, Month 07, Day 18
USS Savannah
Hyperspace


Patton watched hyperspace moved passed his viewport. He was upset at how he had been relieved of his command in Sicily. He had had hoped to take part in the invasion of Noria with Rommel. He thought back to his conversations with his old adversary and he couldn’t help but be surprise at how well they had become friends in a short amount of time. They had shared stories of their experiences and debated various strategies that they would be conducting against their common enemy. Both had made preparation for the invasion of Noria, but Eisenhower and the rest of Allied Command had decided it was better to convince Hitler that things were not going to Change.

“We need to continue the deception that everything he knows will help him in the future,” General Eisenhower had explained in one of their more animated discussions. “It will make him more predictable and give us a better edge in the coming invasion of Floevis.”

At least I get the chance to take part in the actual invasion of and not a paper army, he thought to himself. The First United Systems Army Group would be a real army, while the various divisions would be set up as decoys. Patton had an idea of where the invasion would take place, but he was going to have to discuss the details with Eisenhower himself.

He looked down at the various datapads that were scattered across his desk. All of them containing information about not just the Terran Sector, but of that of the galaxy as a whole. He had learned about the Jedi especially, and he had to respect what they represented. A wise group of warrior monks who had the respect of many in the galaxy, and the jealousy and envy of numerous others. He would like to meet one sometime; maybe have a discussion of the Force and its role in effects of the galaxy, and perhaps the universe as a whole. He shook his head at the thought. That was for when after the war was over, but he had a feeling that the war would last a long time for not only the Terran Sector, but the whole galaxy.

A galactic civil car was still hard to imagine. Millions of people fighting for what they thought, and it was almost a parallel to the American Civil War. He had read about Chancellor Palpatine, and he wondered what sort of man he was. A crisis such as the Clone Wars was the perfect way for someone to seize the reins of power, and he saw how the Galactic Senate had voted to allow for the use of emergency powers when it came to the war. It was a choice that he could well understand, but there were times when someone who was the savior at one moment could be a dictator the next. He could think of many people from his studies of history that had done it before: Julius Caesar, Napoleon, and a certain Austrian Corporal.

Thinking of Hitler made Patton mutter a curse. That madman had come to this galaxy and he was going to cause even more problems now that he knew how things could go for him. If I ever get that man in my sights, I’ll shoot him myself, he thought. Or maybe I’ll give him to the Rarus. A wolfish grin came to his face. They might give him a punishment that he rightfully deserves.

Patton leaned back in his seat. This would be a short hyperspace trip, but the cruiser would still have to take a momentary stop in a region of space between planets to plot a new course. Before he had left Sicily, he received word that the Republic fleet would be arriving in the same area, and General Alexander had arranged for Patton to arrive in the same area as them. It would provide extra protection for the famed general, especially from the raiders that the Getov navy was sending out, and he would get the chance to see how the Grand Army of the Republic operated.

“Attention, everyone,” came a voice over the PA system. “This is the captain. We will be exiting hyperspace in approximately five minutes. All personnel report to general quarters immediately”

Patton could hear people moving outside of his quarters, and others grumbling about preparations. He shook his head at those who complained. They should be happy that they were fighting for their country, and doing the right thing. He took this time to make himself presentable and began to walk to the bridge of the ship. He doubted that Commander Robert Webster Cary would mind. When he reached the bridge, there stood the commander, walking around the bridge instead of sitting in his command chair, a habit that Patton had noticed the commander did when he was on edge.

“Time until we exit hyperspace?” he asked.

“One minute, sir,” the navigation officer reported.

“Sir, all section leaders are reporting at general quarters,” operations called out.

“Weapon systems are ready as well, sir,” sounded the tactical officer.

“Good,” Commander Cary said, with a nod of approval. He looked over to where Patton was standing and gave him a nod. “General.”

“Commander,” Patton replied, giving a slight nod in return.

“We are exiting hyperspace in five…four…three…two…” the nav pulled back on the levers and the lines of hyperspace disappeared. Replacing them was a large battle between two different navies.

“Evasive maneuvers!” Cary barked. “Shields up!”

The bridge crew worked frantically at their stations to try and determine what was happening around them. “Commander, I’m picking up ID for vessels belonging to the Republic, ours, and Getov.”

“Getov?” Cary said in almost disbelief. “Hail the flagship of the American and Republic fleets. Let them know who we are so they don’t end up killing us by mistake.”

All Patton could do was look out at the battle that was happening around them. He could see the hulks of several ships in space, fires burning and explosions blossoming. In the center of the formation were several large vessels that were in a wedge shape, the emblem of the Galactic Republic emblazoned on the hulls and the superstructures. He could see fighters zoom past the ships. Some of them with the star of America or the black cross of Getov.

“Commander, I have Admiral Ingram on the line,” the comm officer reported. He flinched as several laser bolts impacted the shield of the ship.

“Put it through.” Commander Cary sat in his chair and switched on the bridge comm. “Admiral Ingram, this is Commander Cary. Sir, what has happened?”

On the screen came the face of the admiral. “Commander, you just dropped out in the middle of an ambush on the Republic fleet,” he answered. “We have the situation under control but with your vessel’s sudden appearance, you are presenting a tempting target. They know that Patton is on there, and several ships are diverting to your location.”

“I’ve noticed, sir. I’m going to move the ship between the Republic cruisers. Do we have a destination for a hyperspace jump?”

“The Getov dropped several gravity mines, but we have destroyed most of them,” the admiral explained. “I can have the coordinates sent to you in two minutes, Commander.”

“Yes, Admiral. Thank you.”

“Good luck. Admiral Ingram: out.”

Patton had heard the short conversation, and he realized that the waiting would be the worst part of it. He was a man of action, and sitting and waiting while a battle was happening around him did not sit well with him. All he could do was watch as a Getov destroyer exploded as it was raked by fire from the Republic cruiser. He saw another Republic vessel, this one much smaller but still in the characteristic wedge suddenly explode as several proton torpedoes exploded across it.

The ship shook from an explosion, but what it was from he didn’t know until the operations officer spoke. “Sir, we have hull breaches on Decks 3 and 4, Sections 24 through 36,” he reported. “Looks like a torpedo hit us.”

“Seal of that area,” Cary said firmly. “Have damage control parties move toward that area and get any medical personnel there.” He turned toward the sensor operator. “What’s the status of the fleets?”

“Republic fleet has lost about five vessels, with another twenty with various states of damage. Our fleet has lost seven, with close to twenty with damage,” the sensor operator reported. “Getov fleet: has close to twenty vessels with various states of damage. Unknown on the numbers of raiders.”

Patton looked forward and could see a line of Getov ships, ranging from frigates to heavy cruisers. There was even one of their rare battleships that was going toe-to-toe with a Republic Venator, one of the newest ships to join the Republic Navy. Fighters flew passed the bridge, and he saw a fighter, Allied or Getov, he didn’t know, spiral out of control and crash into the hull of the Savannah. The entire battle was beautiful in a way. The bolts of energy, the engines of the vessels moving through vacuum, and the explosions. It was like perversion of the Fourth of July celebrations. Then he watched as an American destroyer exploded, taking hundreds of lives in a single moment.

“All ships: this is Admiral Ingram,” came a voice over the comm. “All gravity mines have been destroyed; ships are to enter hyperspace using the following coordinates. I’ll see everyone there. Godspeed, everyone.”

Receiving the coordinates from the admiral, the nav officer moved the ship forward, avoiding debris and enemy ships as they tried to cut him off. Those few minutes were the most nerve-racking, for everyone on the ship. They all knew that one lucky hit could disable the hyperdrive and result in them being stranded. No one, not even Patton, relaxed until hyperspace enveloped them.

Three Hours Later
Naval Operating Base, Rio de Janeiro
Republic of Brasil


The base of the American Fourth Fleet was full of activity. Dozens of ships could be seen, either in the spacedocks or on patrol. Patton watched as a cruiser with the emblem of Brasil Navy moved along the outer perimeter of the system, accompanied by two American frigates. He was in the office of Admiral Ingram, the commander of the American Fourth Fleet in charge of operations in the outer Atlantica Region of the Sector. With him were Commander Cary of the Savannah, Jedi General T'ra Saa, Admiral Garyth Stark of the Republic Navy, and Clone Commander “Salvo”. All of them were waiting in Admiral Ingram’s office to hear what he had to say to them. No one really spoke, preferring to stay silent and look out the windows to watch the activity in the shipyard.

The door opened and in walked Admiral Ingram and a Lieutenant Command following close behind. He took two steps in, turned around and handed the commander the datapad he had been reading. The officer took it, did and about face, and left the room while the admiral walked over to his deck. “Please sit down,” he said, trying to set them at ease. “I apologize for not having enough chairs but I usually don’t have more than two people in here at a time.”

“That is alright, Admiral,” T'ra Saa said in a calm voice. “Some of us have been doing nothing but sit.”

Ingram nodded and looked over at Patton. “You are more than welcome to sit down, General. I know that naval combat it not your specialty.”

“Thank you,” he replied, trying not to let the relief into his voice. He had developed a new respect for the Navy. Sure they didn’t experience as much action as the infantry, but when a ship was destroyed, it took hundreds, and sometimes thousands, with them. He sat in a chair, and Commander Cary sat in the one beside his.

Admiral Ingram sat down in his and placed his hands on top of his desk. He took a deep breath and began to speak. “I suppose you are wondering about this whole ambush that Getvo launched against the Republic fleet that was being sent to help us. They actually weren’t able to complete their operation because we knew when it was going to happen. That was why when the Republic fleet entered the Sector and Getvo ships attacked, we were able to arrive within a few minutes of them attacking.”

“You’re saying that you knew this would happen?” the Jedi asked.

“We did,” Ingram replied. “The reason we didn’t tell you or anyone in your government was because we couldn’t risk the possibility of the Separatists or Getov finding out about all of this. It was a judgment call that the President made and we will deal with the consequences.”

“We lost ten ships to that ambush,” Admiral Stark said, anger slipping into in voice. “We could have lost none if that information had been shared.”

“Or Getov could have sent more ships or avoided the ambush all together,” the Admiral countered. “Until now, the fighting in the Atlantica Region has been at a stalemate, but this ambush brought the bulk of the Getov raider fleet, not to mention their capital ships. They lost over a quarter of their vessels in that battle, with others receiving damage that will do doubt put them in dry dock for months at the least.”

“I can understand why you did this, Admiral, but I cannot condone such actions,” T'ra said, calmly. “However, the fact that you do not trust us makes me feel uncomfortable about all of this. We are all supposed to be allies in this war.”

“General, I have to tell you that the war in this sector is different from the rest of the galaxy. It’s been going on longer than the Clone Wars, and the people behind it are of the likes you have never seen before. Getov and Katania won’t stop until they control the Sector and do you think they will stop there?” He shook his head. “They will move for the rest of the galaxy, and we are the only things stopping them.”

“There is always the chance of ending the war peacefully,” the Jedi responded. “The Jedi are the peacekeepers of the galaxy. The moderators of disputes. It is our duty to help ensure peace and stability in the Republic.”

Ingram held up a hand. “I’m not trying to belittle the Jedi Order’s contributions to the stability of the galaxy, but what I am trying to say is that this war will be completely different from that of the rest of the galaxy.”

Jedi General T'ra Saa still look unconvinced, but Patton took that moment to ask a question that he had been wanting to ask. “How exactly did we know that Getov was going to ambush the Republic fleet?”

Admiral Ingram looked over at Patton, a slight smile on his face. “There is a simple answer to that question, General: Dönitz talks too much.”

Chapter Text

Year 13, Month 07, Day 19
Berlin, Getov Prime
Greater Getov Reich


Admiral Dönitz look over the report that he had received from the fleet that had ambushed the Republic fleet. Fifty vessels of the Republic arrived in the sector and ten confirmed destroyed with the rest with various states of damage that could not be confirmed on the severity of it. Some were saying that at least half of the fleet had received moderate damage while others were saying a majority was light. He muttered a curse at the entire endeavor and tossed the datapad onto his desk. He leaned back in his chair, trying to calm himself from the frustration he was feeling. The arrival of the American fleet had resulted in him losing more ships than he wanted. He had expected them to arrive to rescue the Republic fleet, but their arrival soon after the attack had begun threw any plans of a success like what the Americans had done to the Confederate fleet into disarray.

His raiders had attempted to enter the various systems in Brasil, but the defense pickets for those systems were better than anything his navy had, and were very good at locating his ships. “Damn it all. What had gone wrong?” he asked to an empty room.

The plan had shown so much promise. The various agents that were on Coruscant had learned that the Republic was sending a fleet along the Hydian Way, and they had managed to ascertain where it would be stopping as soon as it entered the sector. It was easy to set up an ambush. A virtual wolf pack of raiders, the largest he had gathered and various capital ships that stripped much of the Home Fleet to a bare minimum. He had received constant updates and reports, sending many back to them with undated information.

Where had it gone wrong? When the Republic fleet arrived, the raiders were the first to strike, destroying ten vessels in the opening salvo with a stream of torpedoes. The capital ships then arrived, including the battleship Tirpitz, and close to two dozen capital and support ships. They had managed to damage several other Republic vessels, but that was the last of the good news from the operation. The American fleet had arrived soon afterward on their flank, sandwiching his fleet between those of the Americans and Republic. That resulted in a pitched battle, one that his capital ships couldn’t hold, and it was only his raiders that managed to hold them back, and he assumed it was what was responsible for the American and Republic fleets to leave the area.

He looked down at the datapad and shook his head. Half of the raider fleet had been destroyed. The capital ships would spend a few months in the spacedocks for repair and refits. The Fuhrer was not going to be pleased with these results. Hitler would want to find someone to blame for this, and Dönitz was the one who had pushed for this operation. Of course, Hitler had been all for it as well, but he would never accept any responsibility. It was never the Fuhrer’s fault for anything. It was always someone else’s.

There was a buzzing sound and Dönitz switched on his comlink. “This is Dönitz,” he said, trying not to yell in frustration into the device.

“Admiral, I have a message for you from the Fuhrer,” his secretary said. “He says that he wants you to report the Chancellery immediately.”

He knew what it was about. He had no doubt read the report on the ambush and was less than pleased about the ambush and the results it had brought. “Tell the Fuhrer that I am on my way immediately.”

Receiving an acknowledgement, he stood up and straitened his uniform. Taking a deep breath he grabbed his hat and walked out the door.

Along with other members of the German High Command, Dönitz was watching Hitler read over the report for the ambush the navy had conducted. No doubt it had already been read, but this was for dramatic effect, and the silence was a factor that made those in the room more uncomfortable.

Many were expecting to hear the Fuhrer to begin shouting, yelling for an explanation and for someone to blame. Instead, he was quiet, but the anger could be seen in his eyes. “Admiral Dönitz, you were the one who advocated this ambush, and because of it, we’ve lost over half of our raider fleet and several support vessels. How can you explain this disaster?”

“I can’t, Mein Fuhrer,” Dönitz said, trying to make himself sound calm. “Our agents on Coruscant provided us with this information on the Republic fleet. We also judged that the fighting capability of their naval units would not be up to par with ours, and their inexperience in dealing with crews as well trained as ours would result in a victory.”

“And you never expected that the American’s would be sending a fleet to meet the Republic’s?” the Fuhrer asked, his anger beginning to creep into his voice.

“It was expected that they would arrive after we ambushed them, but their timely arrival seemed to show that they were either there to escort the Republic fleet, or…” Dönitz struggled to continue his sentence out of apprehension.

“Out with it!” Hitler barked.

“It’s possible that they knew we were coming,” the admiral finished.

Everyone looked around the room, surprised that the security measures could be beaten by the Allies. Hitler had made it a priority to have the encryption Changed regularly, but the fact that this had happened showed that there were steps that needed to be taken to ensure that their operations could continue.

“Admiral Canaris,” Hitler started, his voice beginning to rise. “You are head of the Abwehr. I want you to find out how the Americans did this, and I also want you to find out just how badly we damaged the Republic’s ships. Maybe this disaster will be less of one if we can at least see the results of this operation.

“Until then, we are not going to be doing any more offensive operations outside of our controlled territory. This disaster has spread us too thin and we have the Rarus have begun their offensive against the Dnieper Perimeter.” He turned to face Himmler and Heydrich. “When will this SS and Teutonic Knight formations be ready?”

“The next two formations should be ready by the end of the month, that is including our Naval detachment,” Himmler replied.

“Our battlecruiser is ready as well,” Heydrich said with a small smile. “My knights have the equipment and the personnel that we requested. I am glad to see that our compatriots in the regular military were willing to part with it.” He turned to face them and gave them a slight nod in thanks. The others simply hid any opinions they had on the matter.

It was no secret that many in the regular military disagreed with a separate force that was loyal to the Party. They considered it an insult to the honor of the military that their job of protecting the Faterland was being handled by political officers who were more focused on ideology and racial purity than taking the necessary steps to ensure victory. Many of them remembered how Hitler and his followers wanted to remove Field Marshall Manstein from his position for looking “too Jewish”, but this stopped on more than one occasion for his abilities. While they still had respect for Hitler being their leader, there were many who were wary that the path he was leading them down was not the one best for Getov. Several had meetings with likeminded officers, but lately, they had begun to notice they were being watched by the Gestapo. These officers, and several in the civilian government, knew what they were thinking was dangerous, but if their nation was being led down a path of destruction, then wasn’t it their duty to stop it?

Year 13, Month 07, Day 19
Pskov Oblast
Getov-occupied Rarus Federation


Field Marshal Model watched the movement of his forces as the Rarus Federation’s were making several pushes into the Leningrad System. General Lindemann was holding them back, but so far, he had been unable to retake the initiative. Leningrad needed to fall; there was no question about that. It was the cultural center for the Rarus, and was named for the man responsible for the Rarus Revolution in the first place. Taking the system would allow for the Getov military to operate from a closer logistical base than having to go through the Baltics and Polanie. Model visually grimaced at the thought of those territories, and the other officers in the command room tried to ignore the glares he was giving.

“Those damn partisans,” he muttered. He looked around and the officers were doing their best to avoid his gaze by focusing on their work. The military officer in charge of those districts had failed to properly secure their supply lines and two more convoys had either been destroyed or captured. A correspondence from himself to the Fuhrer had resulted in the officer’s dismissal and was in the process of being replaced. Model smiled at the memory of it all, and how it had brought him favor from the soldiers in the field. Many of them, who had been unable to receive the proper amount of supplies had begun to like him, seeing him as someone who was trying to get results despite of stepping on other people’s toes.

“Field Marshall, I have the recent reports from Leningrad,” a colonel reported, walking up to him, carrying a datapad.

Model gave a thanks and took the datapad, looking over the information that it held. There had been very little Change for the lines in the system. It was almost difficult for him to imagine the equivalent of trench warfare within a star system, but it appeared to be possible. Two ships were the command vessels for the fleet commanders, and each would had their own small starbase that served as their headquarters. Both sides had the necessary ships to conduct operations against their foe, either on the planet itself or space. All of it resulted in the deaths of hundreds and little Change in the overall strategic situation. He hated this. He wanted to go out there and take the fight to the communists, but orders from command were different from his wants, and these had come straight from the Fuhrer himself.

The plan was to use the superiority of the Getov military to its full advantage, and to do what Manstein and other generals had been asking for. They had used the month that the pullback had given them to build up the planets that made up Ukraina and Belaya Rus into fortresses. There were layered defenses, mines, and ships that had been pulled from other parts of the Reich to shore up the emplacements. The commander were hoping that Zhukov and the other Rarus commanders would lose so many men and material that they would have to call off the attack to regroup and allow for losses to be replaced. After they pulled back, Getov forces would launch a broad offensive against the Rarus as they were regrouping and cause a route to regain the initiative. All of this would, at least the General Staff hoped, make the defeat at Kursk meaningless, and with the losses of so much in equipment and personnel they could push back into the heart of the communist nation and claim what was rightfully theirs. Many were also hopeful that this defeat would result in the dismissal of General Zhukov, and therefore one of the Rarus’ best commanders.

Model remembered how the Russian commander was very capable, but Model was happy to know that he had not joined him in the galaxy. He was wondering if perhaps there were others like him though. Maybe someone back in Berlin who had been able to convince the Fuhrer to pull back to the Dnieper to do this operation? It was a theory that he would have to give much though later, when there wasn’t a war to fight.

“Field Marshal, we have a task force that has just entered the system,” an officer reported. “They report they are Force Reaper.”

Model looked up at the hologram of the system and the new arrivals appeared in an orange hue. “Tell them we acknowledge their arrival and we welcome them to the Headquarters for the Upper Military Group. Send Force D to escort them into the interior of the system. I will greet them personally when they arrive.”

Model stood on the landing field as a shuttle approached, escorted by four FW-190 starfighters. On the grounds, an honor guard had been set up; the best of Model’s command standing at attention to welcome the commander of their vanguard forcers. He could see the shuttle begin to slow down as the fighters began to pull away from it. The wine of the repulsors growing as the shuttle began its landing, gradually coming down; the landing gear extending to full length as the shuttle touched the ground underneath. As the shuttle were being shut down, he walked up to the shuttle, wanting to see for himself the leader of their new vanguard forces.

Stopping just beyond where the ramp would fall, Model stood with his hands behind his back as he prepared himself for the newest arrival to his command. The hatch opened and a ramp began to extend from the interior of the shuttle. Model could see could see a man walking down the ramp, wearing what appeared to be armor was dull gray in color and a helmet that looked oddly similar to what medieval knights used to wear. On the right side of his belt was a blaster pistol, and the left was the silver cylinder of the knight’s lightsaber.

“General Model,” the knight said, giving the general a small bow. “I am Komtur Dieter Kuhn, of Getov’s Teutonic Knights.”

Model, a staunch believer in Nazism, and an ardent supporter of Hitler, didn’t like the fact that this knight was not showing the proper respect that a general deserved. No salute or sign of respect and just a curt nod was not a good way to start this off. However, he had seen some of the abilities of the Teutonic Knights and he was interested in seeing just how they fared when the grand offensive began.

“Komtur Kuhn,” Model said, returning the nod. “Welcome to Pskov Oblast, Headquarters for the Upper Military Group. Will you walk with me?” The knight took a few step and Model turned and began to lead him between the formations. “I take it that your trip here was comfortable?”

“It was, but there was some trouble as we passed through the Baltic Region,” he said calmly. “There was an ambush that tried to stop us, but we dispatched them accordingly.” A small smile came to his face. “That group will not be bothering the actions of the Reich for a while, I can promise.”

“Yes,” Model replied, trying not to grind his teeth at the memory of it all. “They have been proving a nuisance. The officer who had been responsible for securing our supply lines has recently been replaced after failing to do so several times.”

“Yes, I heard about that,” Kuhn said. “I heard that you were the one responsible for that. That you sent a message to the Fuhrer himself.” He turned his head as if to see if Model would deny such an accusation.

“I did do that, and I would happily do it again.” Model didn’t look at the knight but strait forward. “I want results, and if I have to bend or break a few rules or regulations, I will happily do so, and damn those who say otherwise.” Model thought he heard Kuhn chuckle slightly at his statement and looked to see the man with a small grin.

“I am glad to see that the stories about you have not been exaggerated,” the knight said. “I thought that it was all just conjecture, but to see that you are a man who cares more about results than anything is refreshing. You are not like the other commanders I have worked with, and I can sense that you are very popular with your men, while your staff and senior officers have a more unfavorable view of you.”

“I don’t care if they like me or not,” Model said finally, unsure how to take this praise that he was being given.

“That is good to hear.” The knight stopped, and surprised, Model did as well. “There is something else you need to know. The Fuhrer has suspicions about those on his General Staff and his field commanders. He suspects that there is dissidence within the ranks, and that there may be the possibility of a coup.”

Model did his best to hide any emotion on the subject, remembering the plot to kill Hitler back on Earth, but the knight must have sensed something.

“You’ve suspected something as well?” Kuhn asked.

“I’ve had some…gut feelings about some people in the field, but nothing to prove any of it. I didn’t know whom I could trust so I mainly kept it to myself, but since you are here, I believe I can tell you who I suspect.”

The knight nodded in agreement. “Then we shall discuss this later,” he said finally. “If we want a stable Reich, then we need to purge them before they can ruin everything that we have worked so hard to build.”

“Yes, Komtur Kuhn,” Model said as they started to walk again, a predatory grin beginning to form on his face. “First we will take care of the communists and their alien and Jewish supporters, and then we shall focus on traitors to the Reich.”

“Indeed.”

Year 13, Month 07, Day, 21

Temporary Command Center for the Armia Krajowa

Warsaw, Getov-occupied Polanie


General Tadeusz Komorowski read over the most recent report that he had received. The partisans that had been operating in the Baltic Regions under the resistance movements there had been completely wiped out by a force of three heavy cruisers. He had been lucky. He had postponed any further operations after destroying the previous two supply convoys that had moved through their territory. He had also made it a priority to move as many of the Jewish population to other locations within Polanie.

He had been in this crazy galaxy for several months now. When he had died on Earth, he had expected to meet again with his family. He had hoped to see those who had died; those who had had ordered into battle and those who he had been unable to save. He wanted to apologize for the decisions that he had made, and the mistakes he had tried to atone for. Instead, he found himself fighting the Nazis again, and his beloved Poland once again occupied. He found the situation similar, and realized that he had arrived in what would be considered early 1943. There had been so many problems that he had wanted to fix. He wanted to save Stefan Rowecki, but he had been too late to act and the Gestapo had already seized him. He had been successful in one aspect, and that was the locating of several double agents, especially those who would later provide information to the Soviets when they arrive to occupy his now adopted home.

Ludwik Kalkstein, Eugeniusz Swierczewski and Blanka Kaczorowska had been proving useful. He remembered that it was better to use an enemy’s assets against them than destroy them, and he had Section II working on providing them with false information.

He placed the datapad on the table and walked over to the stove to pour himself a cup of tea. As he held the warm cup in his hands, he couldn’t help but wonder what sort of being had been responsible for this. He had seen his home occupied by first the Germans and then the damn Russians. Now he was in another galaxy, in a much younger body, once again fighting a war that he knew they may lose, but he had something going for him, and that was knowledge of what was to come. The technology of this galaxy was wondrous, and unlike anything he had ever seen before. He was able to keep in contact with the government in London, and they provided him with information that had proven valuable, and a proper chain-of-command (a gift or curse, he had yet to decide). The series of raids that the Armia Krajowa had conducted on Getov supply ships had given his forces valuable experience and much needed supplies. They had ever managed to commandeer two Getov destroyers and one of their light cruisers.

A smile came to his face at how the idiot Goebbels had tried to hide the fact in his propaganda, but it was the worst lie he and several others had a good laugh out of, and was something that was still talked about in the mess halls.

Then there were the evacuations of the various ghettos across the country. He remembered the Warsaw Ghetto uprising well, and knew how fiercely they had fought. It was for that reason, and many others, that he had supplied them with weapons to make it last longer and help in relocating several of the Jews and other “undesirables” out and to other secure locations through his country. He had made a point to rescue Mordechaj Anielewicz and as many of his fighters as possible. It was as much tactical as it was moral. He had been indifferent to the plight of Jews on Earth, but he didn’t consider himself an anti-Semite. When he had learned what had truly happened to them, he had felt more helpless than a child. How could he have allowed something like that to happen?

Not this time, he thought to himself. I won’t be idle this time around.

He had always tried to explain it to himself that it was for the greater good. That to wait until the time was right to strike and cause as many problems for the Germans, but with so many dying in the concentration camps in his homeland was… It was sickening. He was going to do something about it.

A knock at the door broke him away from his inner thought and when he yelled an acknowledgement, a junior officer walked in. “I’m sorry to bother you, General, but your friend has arrived.”

“Thank you,” Komorowski said. “Please let him know that I will accept him in a couple of minutes.”


“Yes, sir,” the officer said, and closed the door.

Komorowski cleared his deck of any information. He knew who was coming in. They had reached several settlements over the past several months, but that didn’t mean that he trusted the man, even if he was a man who detested the practices of Getov.

After a few minutes, in walked a man. He was average height, with black hair and a goatee that looked well-kept for a man in his line of work. He was wearing a brown jacket, with a white shirt underneath and dark brown trousers with black boots that came halfway up his calves.

“You have another job for me,” Jorj Car'das asked, a disarming smile coming across his face.

Komorowski didn’t show any emotion. He had no love for smugglers, especially ones who worked for both sides of the war, but he had to admit that the man and his operation was essential to saving people from the atrocities of the Nazis. “Yes, there is another shipment that needs to be picked up and sent to Albion immediately.”

“The same as last time?” Jorj asked.

Komorowski nodded. “Yes, with a few exotic additions to the cargo.”

Jorj’s smile disappeared at the mention of “exotic additions”. “I’ll make sure that they are taken care of and given whatever they need. It will be at our discounted rate.”

“Thank you. The cargo is waiting at the pickup zone; my men will guide you there,” Komorowski said. He watched as Jorj turned to leave the room, and Komorowski waited a few second before asking his next question. “There’s something I need to know. Why is it that you agreed to a lower price for smuggling these people out of here?”

Jorj turned his head and smiled slightly at the question. “I may be a smuggler, but that doesn’t mean I lack a moral compass. What Getov and their lackeys are doing to people just because they are different…” he shook his head. “No one deserves that.” He soon left the room, leaving the general alone

That answer was something that Komorowski didn’t expect to hear from him. A smuggler with a code of honor? I guess the galaxy is full of surprises, he thought

Chapter Text

Year 13, Month 07, Day 21
Kiev System
Getov-Occupied Ukraina


Bolts from turbolaser batteries arched across space, missiles streaked toward their targets, and explosions erupted in the vacuum of the system. Star cruisers moved through space, turbolaser batteries unleashed salvoes of energy into enemy ships. Some firing at pointblank range, ignoring the pounding they were receiving, hoping to take just one more ship with them before falling. Fighters raced through the chaos of the battle, avoiding fire from both sides while trying to take down those of the enemy. One element conducted a strafing run on a defense station, trying to relieve the pressure on a Rarus cruiser that had come to close in an attack run. An explosion burst from the starboard side of the ship, flames stretching out from the munitions that had blown with it and destroying half of the element as it flew through the debris field. Another cruiser, this one Getov, fired its main batteries at a Rarus destroyer that had lost its protective shield. The bolts of energy cutting through the hull of the vessel, bits and pieces of the armor flying off until the ship was enveloped in a brilliant explosion that split the vessel in two. Debris flew from the blast, hitting the hull of the Getov cruiser and causing minor damage.

General Ivan Konev watched the battle around him with a detachment that came with being in command and losing the lives of too many people. Rarus forces had pushed through the first two lines of defenses and were advancing toward the third line. Three lines of defenses, he thought. Dozens of defense stations, and hundreds of ships protected the capital of the Ukraina. This was a fight that they had been preparing for, for over a month they had cleared the way and built up their forces until they were deemed ready. Generals Valutin, Malinovski, Tolbukhin, and he had stormed through the first line, causing several breakthroughs that the fascists could not fill, but they began encountering a coordinated response from the defenders when they began attacking the second. The Getov military had copied the way that Rarus had fought defensively. Each layer of defense was even stronger than the one in front of it, a tactic that had proven useful in the fighting around Kursk and the surrounding systems. Konev could have done without the Getov learning so much in defensive warfare. Katushka cruisers had been used to bombard the various defense stations and satellites, but losses had still been high when the fleets breached the second defensive line.

“General, a flotilla is attempting to flank Valutin’s advance. He is requesting our assistance,” the sensor operator on his command ship reported.

Konev looked at the display of the system. He remembered Valutin being very aggressive commander on Earth, and this was the same if not more so. “Have our Katyusha cruisers to concentrate fire on sector G5. Send the 23rd Flotilla to hit them from the side.”

“Comrade General, Katyusha cruisers are firing into Sector G5,” the sensor operator reported. “Time to target area: ten seconds.”

Konev watched as the display showed thousands of rockets moving toward their target. As the seconds passed, he could see the countless explosions of as the ships were hit by the blasts. The missiles wouldn’t destroy the heavy capital ships, but it would weaken their shields enough to where his ships would be able to finish them off. He could see the 23rd moving forward, fighters the first ones to reach the fleet and launching their heavy weaponry at the ships that had survived the barrage. Several of the damaged ships were destroyed, but now the larger ships of the flotilla were coming and opening up with their batteries

He turned his attention toward the progress of the other commanders on the system. He saw General Tolbukhin was pushing toward the planet Crimea, pushing to retake that planet and the vital shipyards there from the Getov military. Koven remembered how the fascists held onto Crimea for months after being cut off from the rest of the Ukraine because of being resupplied through the Black Sea. It appeared that it wouldn’t happen this time, but he could tell that the defenses were strong around that planet and that it would be a struggle that would last weeks to take the enormous station, and months to take the planet it orbited. The Katyushka cruisers would be too indiscriminate and the shipyards would need to be taken with as little damage as possible. He didn’t know how bad it would be to fight for a space station, but he had a feeling it would be worse than the fighting in Stalingrad, and he knew how terrible that battle was.

General Malinovski’s assignment was to provide protection for Tolbukhin as he pushed toward Crimea. He could see as the general diverted one-fourth of his forces to protect them from flanking attacks, while he took the rest of his fleet to advance. Konev watched as several Getov vessels were being pushed back toward a planet. Some of his vessels engaging them while others were moving passed them, only to turn around and trap them in the planet’s gravity well. Ironically it was a tactic that had been perfected by the Getov military in the early parts of the war: trap the enemy with their backs to a planet and destroy them. Close to twenty Getov vessels were confined, with enough forces left behind to finish them off while the rest moved forward to trap the next group.

General Valutin was pushing his forces forward as an amazing speed. Konev knew that he was a great tactician, especially during the fight in the Ukraine, but he also remembered how he had been killed by rearguard actions on Earth, and wondered if that would happen again. Whenever Valutin’s advance encountered resistance, he would push them back until they were pinned and leave them behind with enough ships to have them destroyed. He saw a Getov flotilla moving forward, one of the major fleets that were in the system to stop the advance of the Red Military. Both formations advanced toward each other, firing their weapon batteries at each other until they converged, turning the advance into a clash that was similar to fighting from the Eighteenth Century.

Konev’s fleet was advancing at a steady rate, drawing dozens of Getov vessels from capital ships to fighter groups toward him. He followed the same tactic that the others were conducting, encircling and trapping the enemy, and then destroying them. However, he could tell that even though they had made progress, it would be a long and costly fight for the system. He could see them half-way to the third and strongest line of defenses, with several enemy formations and planets that no doubt had surface-to-space defenses that could destroy a cruiser easily if they weren’t careful. He Changed the focus of his display and moved it to the last defensive line and saw a line that had large killzones and even larger ships to protect them. He knew that it was the numbers of the Soviet military that helped them win many battles on Earth, and survive the losses of so much equipment. He was confident that they would win this struggle, even if they suffered more losses than expected.

“Comrade General, there are two Getov flotillas on an intercept course with us,” the sensor operator. “Picket ships have engaged them but are requesting assistance before they hit us.”

“I want the 35th and the 44th Flotillas to move up to engage them. The Katyushka cruisers are to fire a volley along that vector. That should provide them with the support they need.” As he watched, he was shocked to see a quarter of the 44th disappear in several explosions. “What the hell just happened?” he demanded.

The officer at the sensors worked quickly to figure out the problem. “General, they ran into a minefield. The other vessels are pulling back to regroup. I am also picking up something on the sensors, but it’s difficult to identify with all of the debris. I’m trying to narrow it down.” No sooner had those words life her mouth, that several ships in front of him were hit by torpedoes that came out of nowhere.

“Lieutenant, what was that?” anger slipping into his voice.

“I got a small hit for a few seconds, General,” the officer replied, trying to remain calm. “It must have been one of their raiders.”

“Raiders?” he muttered to himself. That was an aspect that he didn’t expect in this fight, and now he had to be more careful than he was already.

“General, the flotilla commanders are reporting they have been attacked in the same manner. They don’t report significant losses but many are requesting that we stop our advance to regroup,” the comm officer reported.

“Have the other fleet commanders reported similar instances?” Konev asked calmly.

“Yes, Comrade General, they have, but they are continuing their movements forward. General Valutin has encountered the most and is pressing forward and he says, ‘I will see all of you at Kiev when I have liberated it’’.”

Konev thought for a moment, trying to make a decision that held the lived of thousands in the balance. “We continue in our advance.” he said finally. ”Have the pickets move further out to give us as much advance warning as possible. We’re not going to stop until we have reached orbit and launch the liberation of Kiev. They have lived under the rule of the fascists long enough.”

As the message was sent, the senor operator reported that a large Getov fleet had arrived on the other side of the system. Konev looked back at the display to judge the size of the fleet, and he felt a slight unease in in his stomach. The Getov were large enough to cause problems for their forces, but the battle was still early and it would be some time before the fascists would reach them. He was confident, though, that they would have a victory that would dwarf that at Kursk and liberate the rest of the Rarus Federation. Victory here, and forward to Berlin, he though, a small smile coming to his face.

Year 13, Month 07, Day 23
Java Naval Base, Sumatra System
Katanian-occupied Batavian Indies


Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto looked out into space from his office. He watched as the stars sparkled, and the gas giant in the distance that served as the anchor for many of the habitable moons in the system, its blueish hue like a precious stone in the blackness of space. He could see the hulls of proud warships, the emblem of the Imperial Katanian Navy emblazoned on several parts of the ships. This site normally would fill him with pride, to see the might of the Empire, but this site was overshadowed by what the shipyards were filled with. The former naval base of the sector’s version of the Dutch was serving the Japanese and Separatist vessels that had encounter the advances of the American fleet across the Pacifica Region. Once proud vessels were showing the scars of battle, some recent while others were from battles that had taken place months ago and were waiting for replacement parts.

The biggest source of embarrassment for him in the yard were the Confederate vessels that had arrived to originally reinforce the Japanese fleet, if not regain the initiative, at least buy time for the Katanian fleet to retrain and rebuild. Instead, the whole fleet had been ambushed by the Americans, by coincidence or with their codes being read, he didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. As of this moment, only half of the vessels that had arrived were combat ready, while the others that had survived were cannibalized for parts to keep the survivors running.

If the Americans hadn’t ambushed us, then perhaps we could have a chance at slowing them down, he though, but deep down, he knew that the Confederate admiral would have been a more of a hindrance. With the Confederate forces leaderless, then perhaps he could have used their numbers in a way to earn victories for the Empire, but the government in Tokyo had other ideas.

The door opened and in walked a junior officer. Standing at attention, Yamamoto motioned for him to stand at ease. “Admiral, I’m here to let you know that your transport has arrived,” he said. “They need to refuel and run maintenance of it but it should be ready within a few hours.”

Yamamoto took a deep breath and let it out slowly. This was a moment that he had never expected to happen to him, but he supposed that he shouldn’t be surprised that it did. “Thank you, Lieutenant,” he said. He turned to look outside again, trying to figure out a way to help his country. He heard a knock, and thought that the young officer was behind it, but when he turned he was surprised to see a middle aged man standing in the doorway.

“May I come in, Admiral?” he asked.

Yamamoto had not expected any visitors today, but welcomed him in. “Please, come in,” he replied, motioning for him to enter. He walked in, and after taking a few steps he stood at attention. “At ease, Commander.” He looked at the man for a few seconds trying to remember who it was that was standing in front of him, but was having no success. ”I’m sorry, but I don’t believe I know your name.”

The officer tried to relax. “Commander Tameichi Hara, sir. Captain of the Shigure and commander of the 27th Destroyer Squadron.”

Yamamoto’s memory then recalled who was standing in front of him. On Earth had had been the man who had written the manual on how to properly use torpedoes in combat. Here, he had done something similar, but instead focused on using hit and run tactics to cause damage to the American fleet. He had made several successful attacks on the Americans, but he was one of the few exceptions in the Imperial military. Walking over to the chair behind his desk, he motioned for the officer to join him. “So what was it you wanted to speak about, Commander?”

“Admiral, you are the best naval commander in the Empire. You are the one responsible for the attack on Pearl Harbor, and the victories we had against so many of our enemies. If I may be so bold, sir, but why are you leaving? If it wasn’t for you, then the entire Confederate fleet would have been destroyed, but now we have vessels with fighters and bombers that could be of immense help.”

Yamamoto knew the relieving of himself from the Combined Fleet was not a secret to everyone, but the reason for it was hidden from everyone so as to keep the spirits of the men up. He wished he could tell this officer the reason why, that the Imperial General Staff wanted a scapegoat for the destruction of half the Confederate fleet that was supposed to be reinforcements. When the leadership of the Confederacy had learned that their fleet had been ambushed by people whom they had considered ‘backward’, they had demanded that the Katanian commander of the area be handed over to them for an investigation and to be punished. Apparently, Admiral Finto of the Confederate fleet was the nephew of a powerful member of the Trade Federation, and was calling for the ‘incompetent fool’ to be handed over for punishment. At this moment, there were also several within the Imperial government who were calling for his dismissal from the military altogether, but his friends in the Imperial Navy had managed to convince others to have him relieved of command and instead sent back to Katania. This had only been possible when many staff officers had threatened to resign that those in the government had relented. It didn’t matter to Tojo and other hotheads that he had managed to escape leave with enough ships to form another fleet to use against the Americans. All that mattered was that the Confederacy wanted, and he had a suspicion that the Army was using this to their advantage as well.

He was silent for a moment, trying to explain to the young officer the reasons why this was happening. “The reasons for my removal of a field command of the Combined Fleet is because my talents are needed elsewhere,” he said finally. “The General Staff wants me to help in the training of new officers and managing the overall war from the safety of Katania since they claim that I have been taking far too many risks with my endeavors.”

Commander Hara was quiet for a moment before asking, “Admiral, permission to speak freely?”

“We have been speaking freely haven’t we?” Yamamoto asked, wondering just what this man was up to.

“Admiral, what I mean is that nothing I say will reflect upon myself or those under my command.”

Curious as to what was so concerning to the commander he replied, “Commander, you have my word as an Admiral in the Imperial Katanian Fleet, and by the Emperor himself, I swear that what we talk about will not leave this room.”

Seeming to accept that, Commander Hara took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Admiral, you and I both know that the reasons behind your dismissal of Commander of the Combined Fleet is not what the official story says. There are rumors amongst those in the Navy and Army that this is because of the ambush the Americans had conducted against us and the Confederate Fleet, and the death of their Admiral Finto.”

Yamamoto was quiet, unsure on how to respond, but Hara continued. “You are the best commander of the fleet, as I said earlier, and your dismissal is more of a way to place the blame on you than for the Confederacy or the General Staff to accept that our codes have been broken.”

Yamamoto shook his head in defeat. There was no point in lying to this man who seemed too good at putting things together. “It is true, Commander. Originally, the Confederacy wanted me so they could put on trial for the mistakes of their commanders, and I know there were more than a few members of the Army who would have been happy to see me go. I think the only factor that saved me from that fate was that I am too valuable to hand over to the Confederates and that most of the Naval General Staff threatened to resign if such an event happened.”

Hara shook his head in disbelief. “Why can’t they see that you are the best chance we have against the Americans? Most commanders are set in their ways so deeply that they can’t think outside of the box. ” He looks strait at Yamamoto. “You aren’t like that, sir, and neither am I. I have a feeling it will help me survive this war. What I am worried about is how many good men are going to die because of commanders who are not?”

Yamamoto own concerned were the same. “Too many,” he finally said. “The Imperial Army has too much influence in our actions, and there are commanders who have placed too much emphasis on heavy capital ships when we should be focusing on carriers. It is too late to make any sort of Change in the overall situation in the war. The American’s will eventually defeat us. They can produce more of everything and have the motivation to fight. It may take the Americans years, but they will defeat us.”

“Admiral, what you are saying could be considered defeatism,” Hara said, slowly. “You need to be careful who you say that around.”

“Right now, I’m speaking the truth, and I know there are other commanders who believe the same as I do, but our loyalty to the Emperor comes first.” I just hope that we all live long enough for him to realize that, Yamamoto thought.

Hara nodded, agreeing with the admiral. “Then I pray that he shall have the wisdom to do what is right for our nation,” he said finally.

“Indeed.” He soon realized that he had been carrying a burden that seemed to lighten a little after talking to someone about this, and realized that he needed this. Perhaps it was fate that was giving him a moment to voice his thoughts on the matter. “Commander, I need your solemn word that you will not speak any word of this to anyone. Not of my dismissal and not of my true feelings on the actions that our government is taking.”

“You have my word, Admiral. I shall keep this conversation between ourselves and no one else.”

“That is good to hear.” He stood up from his seat, and Commander Hara soon followed. “Now I think it is time that you left. I still have a few of my personal affects that need to be packed.”

Standing at attention, Commander Hara gave a crisp salute, which Yamamoto returned. “Yes, Admiral, and sir, it was a pleasure to talk with you. I hope that you and I get the chance to do it again sometime.” He turned and left the room, leaving the admiral alone.

I hope I live to see the end of this war. Since coming here, I feel like I’m living on borrowed time, like death is constantly watching me. He looked around his office, seeing most of it empty except for a few pictures and actual books that the yeomen had yet to pack. The one object that he would carry out himself was his officer’s sword. Picking it up, he held it with both hands, looking it over and thinking about what it represented. He remembered the pride he felt when it had been presented to him, and how proud his family had been when he brought it home to show them. To serve and die for the Emperor was the highest honor, but something made him pause at the thought of it. So much national pride, but was that pride blinding his people to the truth? Was it blinding the Emperor himself to what Tojo and his supporters were doing? He pulled the sword out of the scabbard, looking over the blade. He could recall what the sword represented: discipline in the proper usage of those who wielded it, and the denouncement of those who would misuse it. Japan; Katania; they were both like the sword. Both needed to be wielded by those with the proper discipline and knowledge on how to use it. Instead, they were being wielded by people who misused it for their own selfish belief, twisting it to appear as though it is best for the nation. No, he would do what was right, and try and bring his country back onto the proper path. The path that would lead his country to prosperity not through war, but through honor and doing what was right.

He slid the blade back into the scabbard, just as three yeomen walked in to pick up the last of his possessions in the office. All three stood at attention as they entered. He motioned for them to continue their duties and turned to look out at the shipyard. Four hours later, while sitting in his transport that would take him to Tokyo, he began to think. Those in the Imperial Army would think this was a punishment; that taking him away from the field would hurt him in some way. Instead, it would strengthen him, and bring him closer to the problems that his country suffered. He would use this as a chance to help right the wrongs his adopted home had done, and regain the honor they had lost.

Chapter Text

Year 13, Month 07, Day 31
London, Albion
The United Kingdom


Prime Minister Churchill stood at the transport hub, waiting for the newest arrivals to the Allied war effort. With him stood many members of Allied Command, including General Eisenhower. Puffing on his cigar, he could see a transport with Republic markings being escorted by four Albion Spitfire Starfighters and as it approached, the fighters banked away as the transport decreased speed and came to a gentle stop on the landing pad. The side hatch opened with a hiss and when it was fully extended, out walked four beings.

Churchill recognized three of the four easily, having been briefed on who was arriving. General George Patton was the first to step off the ramp, and upon reaching General Eisenhower and himself, he stood at attention and saluted, which was promptly returned. “It’s good to see you again, George,” Eisenhower said, extending his hand. “It’s nice to see that you are still as good as I remember.”

The double meaning was not lost to those who were from Earth, and Patton smiled, grasping Eisenhower’s hand. “It’s good to be here, General. I look forward to my next command, sir.”

The next person was a male, wearing the uniform of the Republic Navy. His hair was dark and well kept. He was average height, but had cool blue eyes that showed a calculating mind. When he approached Churchill and Eisenhower, he saluted. “Admiral Garyth Stark of the Republic Navy, reporting, General.” As the salutes were returned, Churchill noticed that his accent sounded as if it had a hint of West Country. The admiral must have noticed a slight look, explaining, “I attended the Royal Navy Academy about ten years ago, Prime Minister. I never completely lost the accent I gained from my time here.” Churchill smiled slightly, extending his hand, which the admiral took, and shook.

The last two to walk up was the Jedi General T'ra Saa and who the party believed to be the clone commander. “Prime Minister Churchill, General Eisenhower, and fellow allies, I want to thank you for the assistance that gave us when we arrived within the sector. If it had not been for your efforts, then we many have suffered far worse when the Getvo fleet attacked us.”

“We were glad to be of service,” Churchill said. “We are allies in a conflict that has the fate of the galaxy in the balance. We cannot afford to allow assistance from our friends in the Republic to be lost.”

“At the mention of us being friends,” the Jedi began, “I would appreciate if any new information that could be used in the safety of those I command was shared with myself, Admiral Stark, or Commander ‘Salvo’. I can understand the reasoning for not informing us of the ambush, but we are allies in this sector, and we need to trust each other.”

“Yes, I believe you are right,” Eisenhower said, before Churchill could say anything. “We do need to start trusting each other and sharing what information we have. If you will follow us, we can continue the discussion of our operations at Allied Force Headquarters.”

Three Hours Later
Allied Force Headquarters


General Eisenhower, along with other Allied commanders, and those of the Republic all stood in the war room of the building; a hologram of the Europa Region of the floated above the table, showing the most up to date disposition of Allied and Axis forces in the region.

“It looks like most of the Getov Navy has been pushed back to protecting their home territories,” Admiral Stark said, looking over the various ports. “I take it that it was their foiled ambush on us that forced them into that position.”

“It was,” Eisenhower said, turning his head. “The war in space had been at a stalemate, but this victory has forced them to focus on defensive operations here instead of going after the transports that are so important to Albion.”

“How exactly did you manage to figure out when and where they would attack?” T'ra asked. “Admiral Ingram was rather vague on the details.”

“What exactly did he say?” Churchill asked.

“He said, ‘Dönitz talks too much’,” she answered.

Churchill chuckled. It was the reason they managed to figure out the details of the operation. MI6 had been able to break the recent Enigma encryption and it had provided them with a vast amount of information about the operations of the Getov military. From troop movements to ship rotations, up to what Admiral Dönitz had called, Operation: Poseidon. Further messages had revealed that it was to be an ambush on the Republic fleet that was to arrive. Steps had been made to ensure that those who could best use the information received it, and just as it had happened back on Earth, Dönitz talked to his ships far too often, almost daily, and this had allowed the Allies to figure out exactly when and where the Getov would attack. Churchill explained this to the Jedi and admiral, minus the information from Earth, but he could tell they were impressed by their capabilities.

“How good is their encryption?” the Admiral asked.

“Good enough to where if the Getov had been our allies, I would give the man who created it a medal,” Churchill answered immediately. “It’s damn good, and probably one of the best in the galaxy. I know that MI6 has given some droids messages to decrypt without a cypher and it took them three months to accomplish it.”

“I am impressed by Getov’s capabilities,” T'ra Saa said, looking up at the map and reading the information posted in Noria. “I see the liberation of Noria is quickly moving. I see that you are close to securing Brindisi. You will begin preparations for an invasion of Roma after the planet has been liberated?”

“Yes, General Alexander has done a good job in that theater, and the rescue of King Emmanuel III has been a great boost to the morale of the Norian military that has sided with us. He has united them and announced that Mussolini is no longer the Prime Minister of Norian and is a usurper, working with the madman Hitler,” Eisenhower explained. Which it far more than he ever did on Earth. Maybe being placed under house arrest and rescue by the SAS Changed him. “We have also begun supplying them with arms for their military and aid to the civilian population.”

“Yes, that is good to hear that the people are being taken care of,” T'ra Saa said calmly. “Being under the rule of a dictator, even one that brought some benefits to the people, is never a good thing.”

“Yes, indeed,” Churchill said, puffing from his cigar. He was unsure about the Jedi. True, they were on the side of good, and they were great warriors, but he was worried that they may prove troublesome in the future. Maybe they would try to convince him to dissolve the Empire and allow for greater autonomy and eventually independence. He would have to think on this further, and talk with his advisors and those who have joined him in the galaxy.

“Since you have survived the attack that Dönitz had sent against you,” he said, pulling his cigar from his mouth, “I do not doubt that he will focus as much attention as he can spare to here, in preparation for the inevitable invasion of Europa. At this moment, he is focused on the Rarus Federation and the push they are doing to try and retake the Ukraina and Belaya Rus.”

“What exactly is this invasion going to encompass?” Stark asked, crossing his arms, a look of curiosity on his face.

“The invasion will be at Floevis,” Eisenhower explained, and the hologram zoomed in on the nation. “We have been working with the various resistance movements throughout Getov-occupied territory and they have been providing us with information that has been useful to us. Right now, the heaviest concentration of troops is Calais. However, there has been indications that they have begun to move assets toward Brittany.”

“And you believe that they expect us to invade Brittany,” T'ra Saa said, looking at the hologram intently.

“I would almost expect them to believe it, and the fact that they are doing a gradually indicates they are hoping we don’t know it,” Eisenhower replied, confidently, suspecting that it was Hitler from Earth who was leading the Getov military.

“But why would they suspect that?” Stark asked, crossing his arms. “Calais has everything needed for an invasion fleet. Shipyard, spacedocks, and the infrastructure to support a large force are all there while Brittany has almost none of that. You then need to factor in that Calais is closer to Albion, and seems like an obvious location to target with an invasion.”

“That is where our deception campaign has been very successful,” Churchill explain, telling only a half truth in the matter. “We have been sending messages and moving our forces around to make it appear as though Brittany is the invasion target, but also making it appear as though the Calais is a diversionary tactic. Hitler is going to believe that Brittany is going to be invaded in the middle of next year. We have also received reports that he has been relying on the advice of his Teutonic Knights more for advice.”

“I’ve heard about these Teutonic Knights,” T'ra Saa said. “Many of them were former Jedi who were swayed to return to their homes when Hitler called for them when he came to power. All of us in the Order were surprised that so many had left when they did.”

“Do you have exact numbers on who left?” Eisenhower asked. “We’ve been attempting to get that information, but our intelligence sources have been unsuccessful.”

The Jedi pulled out a datacard from her belt and held it up. “On this datacard is a listing of all the Jedi that left the Order to fight in the war here on the side of the Getov military.” She walked over to General Eisenhower and handed it to him and turned to face the whole table. “I can tell all of you right now that the number of Jedi who left is numbered at twenty-seven.”

“How skilled were these Jedi, General Saa,” Churchill asked. “We need to know this information if we are to face them in battle.”

T'ra took a deep breath, before she answered. “Some of them were the best trained Jedi we had, some of them trained in various lightsaber arts and had knowledge that was only available to those in the Jedi Order. One of the greatest was Reinhard Heydrich.” At the mention of the former SS General, those from Earth looked at each other in, trying to hide their shock that the man who is credited for creating the Holocaust was still alive.


Churchill grabbed a datapad that he had placed on the table and began to look through the files until he came to one labeled Operation: Anthropoid. “General, I am sorry to interrupt but, the name you mentioned sounded familiar. And I realized that it was from an assassination attempt we made in occupied Czechoslovak. The government-in-exile had attempted to kill Heydrich when his speeder was moving through the city, but we had been unable to confirm whether or not he had truly survived.”

T’ra Saa looked surprised that an assassination would even be attempted by any power. “Why would you do that?” she asked. “I can understand that this is war, but there are approved ways of fighting it. You do know that this opened the box for it to happen to yourselves and the rest of the galaxy. It would have been better if you had informed us so that we could attempt to bring him back into the Order.”

Churchill and others had expected this sort of reaction, and while he could sympathize, these people had to understand that this was war, and it was difficult to fight it honorably. “You have to understand that this man, is no longer a Jedi, and in all honesty, I doubt he would have been a good Jedi. We have a saying that power corrupts, and I’m afraid that Heydrich was interested in something more than being a Jedi, and Hitler provided him with the path to what I think he truly wanted.”

The room was quiet for several seconds and Eisenhower spoke up. “There is also something else you need to know about him.” He pulled out a datacard and placed it into his datapad. Passing it over to T’ra Saa he told her to look it over.

As the Jedi began reading, her expression slowly began to Change from concentration to shock, and then eventually horror. Quickly looking up at everyone in the room, she almost shouted, “How long have these atrocities been going on? By the Force, how could a government do this to sentient beings?”

“That is the evil that we are fighting here in the Sector,” Churchill explained. “Hitler has corrupted the people of Getov into believing that they are the superior race, and that aliens and those whom they consider inferior are no better than cattle.”

“Why wasn’t the Republic informed about this?” Stark asked. “Certainly if you brought this to the Senate they would have taken action on the matter.”

Churchill shrugged his shoulders. “In all honesty, we didn’t fully believe it ourselves, and it wasn’t until our friends in Polanie sent us information on these camps that we even knew their true purpose. As to telling the Republic, do you really think that they would believe something like this would happen?” Churchill shook his head. “Odds are the Senate would believe that such an event could never happen. Do you remember how the Invasion of the planet Naboo ten years ago went? The whole crisis was mired in politics and resulted in a vote of no confidence in the sitting Chancellor. No, the whole situation would have been mired in politics.” Once again, Churchill knew that he was partially lying in what he was telling the Jedi, and Eisenhower and Patton were agreeing with him on the steps that were having to be taken.

The three Republic personnel looked at each other, and both Admiral Stark and General T’ra Saa looked as though they wanted to say that the Senate would do something, but they stopped. The room was quiet for several seconds before Admiral Stark spoke. “What is being done to stop this from happening?”

This time it was Churchill and Eisenhower who looked at each other. Both knew how many had died with the course they had taken on Earth, and they knew that more would likely die, but it was the surest way of stopping the killings. “Myself, President Hull, and the other heads of state in the Allies have agreed that the best course of action would be to focus on winning the war.”

“You can’t do that,” Admiral Stark said firmly. “Most of those people in the camps will die before the war is over. How many would be killed waiting for us to liberate them?”

“Admiral Stark is right,” General Saa said finally. “To do so would break everything that the Republic and Jedi stand for. We should attempt to try and rescue as many as we can from these extermination camps and bring them here.”

“General Saa,” Eisenhower said, stepping forward, “I know how you feel, and to know that this is happening is something that weighs heavily on my soul, but we couldn’t rescue them even if we wanted to. While most of the Getov fleet has been destroyed in an offensive sense, they still control one of the best equipped militaries in the sector, and if we tried to liberate these camps now, then we would do more harm than good. We would lose a lot people, and no doubt those in the camps would be killed off before we could rescue them, and in the end, it wouldn’t matter in the overall war effort, because they will just move the camps elsewhere and continue to kill” He shook his head. “No, we need to focus all of our efforts into defeating Getov, and only then will the killings stop.”

“We have had some success in smuggling of those who are en route to those camps, however,” Churchill said, trying to give them some good news. “The Polanie Home Army has been working with some smuggling groups to get people out. It hasn’t been much, but it is a victory, even if only a small one.”

T’ra Saa shook her head at everything that she had been told. She had lived for a long time, and seen much. This was far from her first time visiting the Terran Sector, and she knew just how much conflict the region experienced. She saw many things that were admirable, and she wondered why this region was so unique in the galaxy. “We can’t just allow this atrocity to happen to these innocent people. I need to send word of this to the Council. Perhaps they will be able to do something about it, and I would think it best if you informed your Senators to tell Coruscant about this.”

“We can do that,” Churchill said, “But I must inform you that if the Senate or Chancellor attempt influence our war plans in this sector, then it brings a potential problem of their interference in the war. Remember that we have been fighting here before the Clone Wars started, and you have to trust that we know best on how to finish it.”

“I cannot condone some of the actions or inactions that you have taken in this war, nor can I sit idly by and watch as people are murdered for simply being different,” General Saa said. “I must pass everything that I have learned here to the Council, and hope that the Republic does something about this.”

The various commanders of the Allies looked at each other, some hopeful but most were doubtful that the Republic would do anything. With an entire galaxy at war, they would have to pick and choose where to send more forces. Politics would likely get in the way as other systems would demand for more support in their war with the Separatists.

“I hope you are right, General, but we need to focus on the opening of another front in Europa,” Eisenhower said, turning everyone’s attention toward the map above them. “Right now, the Rarus have been throwing everything they have at the Getov since their victory at Kursk, and are fighting for the liberation Belaya Rus and Ukraina. Stalin has been demanding that we open another front to take the pressure off of them.”

“General, what about pushing up through Noria?” Stark asked. “From what you have said about the campaign, General Alexander and Admiral Cunningham have been making progress in that theater, even rescued the king of that nation.”

Eisenhower shook his head. “While we have made excellent progress in that theater, both Alexander and Cunningham have reported a stiffening of resistance against our advances. We will have Brindisi secured in a few weeks and are beginning to make preparations to go after Roma next, and we may be able to secure it within a few months, but I do not believe that we will be able to push farther along that front. The terrain offers too many advantages for the defender. Roma is has an asteroid belt which provides good places for defense. Milan has two asteroid belts in their system. No, we need to liberate Floevis. It provides us with more area to operate out of and would force Getov to have to defend three different areas.” He turned to look at the Republic officers. “The name of the operation you will be taking part in is called: OVERLORD.”

Year 13, Month 08, Day 02
The Senate Building
Coruscant, the Galactic Republic


Senator Roosevelt looked outside the window, the traffic moving through designated areas of the sky, and he couldn’t help but smile at everything that he was seeing. He had been on the planet for a few months now, and he still couldn’t get over at the technology he saw in front of him. He remembered back to when he was driving a speeder for the first time, and while he was normally a person to have his driver do it for him, he insisted that he drive. The experience had almost given his diver a heart attack, and brought Coruscanti Security on him for the breaking of several traffic laws, something that he was more than willing to pay for, and he had made it a routine to go driving a couple times a week to ensure his abilities were good enough to drive in the event something terrible happened.

He remembered stories on Earth of how pilots would sometimes wish they could always fly, that staying above the clouds was like something out of mythology. Like being the gods of Olympus, and looking down upon the mortal world below. He now realized just how great it was, even if the skies were a little busy on the planet, it was still possible to find a few quiet and remote places to just look out. He would have to ensure that his wife could come out to join him. At the moment, she was helping with the war effort back in the Terran Sector, but he knew she missed him, and he missed her as well. They had been reluctant on having her join him with the threat of Getov raiders, but with their capabilities reduced considerably, there was a chance for her to join him.

Roosevelt took a small drag from his cigarette. Thinking of his wife reminding him of just how long it had been since he saw her. When she comes out, he thought, I’ll take her some place special. It’s not every day you get a second chance to be with the person you love. He heard the door slide open behind him and saw Senator Bail Organa walk in. Walking over to an ashtray and putting out the cigarette, he walks over and shakes the fellow senator’s hand. “It’s good to see you, Bail.”

“You as well. I’m glad you accepted my request to join the Senate Security Committee. What did your think of your first session on the Committee?”

Roosevelt feigned exhaustion. “It was different from the committees that I had to take part in back in Washington, but it is nothing that I haven’t experienced in the past.” He smiled slightly. “I will admit that it is good to be part in helping ensure the safety of the Republic.”

Bail chuckled. “I see that your reputation was not false when I suggested that you become part of this committee.”

“And I thank you for that, Bail. Though I do wonder why some members of the committee are even on it. I’ve noticed that any were against the Military Creation Act when Palpatine put it forward, but I think we are now focused on cooperation to stop this war and bring the galaxy back together. Senator Amidala from Naboo is a very outspoken individual on the subject.”

“Indeed, she is very popular, especially among those who have been displaced by this war. However, there are many who are angry at her for being in opposition against the creation of a Republic military prior to the war, and many blame her for starting this conflict for being on Geonosis illegally.” Roosevelt had read how it had started, when she and two Jedi had been captured on a planet illegally. The reason for war seemed thin at best, but it seemed that both sides were too ready for war to stop. It seemed vaguely similar to Europe prior to World War I. “However,” Bail continued, “her diplomatic missions to the various border systems have been ensuring that fewer systems side with the Separatists.”

Roosevelt nodded. He admired Senator Amidala and her abilities. “I have read some of her exploits and I must say she is a person who has the type of personality that people will follow. A voice of reason in a storm of chaos.”

She was still advocating for a diplomatic solution to the war, and was far from the only person in the Senate. There were several on the committee who had similar feelings. As for himself, he was unsure. He knew that the war in the Terran Sector wouldn’t end until both Getov and Katania accepted unconditional surrender and their leaders accepted the punishment for their crimes against the galaxy. He knew that Hitler was continuing the extermination of “undesirables” and Katania was doing the same thing to prisoners and others in occupied territory. As to the rest of the galaxy, everything wasn’t as black and white. Those who wanted the leave the Republic, claimed it was because it was a corrupt entity, where representation from the systems in the Outer Rim were ignored in galactic affairs. Where entities like the Trade Federation and Commerce Guild were able to work the government to their advantage and get light punishments for doing illegal acts. Then there were those who wanted to keep the Republic together, claiming that if the Separatists were successful in their attempts, then it would result in a government that had stood for a thousand generations to fall apart, with other systems leaving because they saw the Republic as weak.

He could see both sides of the argument, having seen and dealt with corruption on Earth, but he never saw it quite as bad as the Republic had. One could almost see the rot seeping into different parts of the government, and wanting to leave to start anew was something he could understand; it was one of the factors that was a big part of American history. However, he was a person who believed that the Republic needed to stick together. The Civil War came to mind, and he saw many parallels in this conflict to that one. There were those who still believed in what the Republic stood for, wanting a diplomatic end to the conflict, and while Roosevelt was for continuing the war in the Sector to stop the evil that was there, he was more open minded to a peaceful solution as a whole to the Clone Wars.

“Franklin, you have that gift as well.” Bail said, bring Roosevelt back from his inner thoughts. “More so than you are showing. There is something about you that is different since your ship was attack by those Getov raiders in your sector. Almost like you have seen war and what can come from it.”

Roosevelt tried to hide any sort of surprise. Did he suspect something? “You could say that the attack opened my eyes. I had an idea of how terrible war could be, but experiencing it gives you a better understanding of what soldiers go through.” He didn’t know how is doppelganger acted before his arrival, but he found this explanation as the most acceptable cover for any Changes.

“But there is something else,” Bail said, a questioning look on his face. “I pride myself at being able to read people well, and I can tell that there is something different about you.”

Roosevelt got up from his seat and walked toward the window. “It’s this war,” he said, taking a deep breath. “It is going to be devastating for the whole galaxy. This whole conflict has been brewing for at least a decade, and I don’t know how, but I have a feeling that it will last years before we see an end in sight. When it does, there will have been so many deaths that people will wonder whether to not it was all worth it in the end.”

“Which is why we need to try and find a way to end the conflict and stop the bloodshed. No war is worth the price of lives lost. Why else do you think I wanted you on this committee in the first place? You’re not as politically driven as others, and that is a problem that has plagued the Senate for centuries.”

“It’s not just the Separatist that we have to worry about. It’s the people who we could consider our closest friends that we have be wary of. There will be sympathizers within the Senate and those who will use this war to their advantage.” Roosevelt picked up a cigarette and lit it, stepping away from Bail so the smoke wouldn’t bother him. “War profiteering will be a problem, and no doubt the corruption that the Separatists accuse us of having will spread further with this crisis. We need reforms to reduce it, but we need a big Change for that to happen. Right now it would be impossible; everyone is focused on the fighting. Maybe after the war is over, something can be attempted to remedy the situation.”

“Did you hear about the Chancellor requesting for more emergency powers?” Bail asked. “Many Senators are supporting it in hopes that it will help in ending the conflict quickly, but I have my doubts, no matter how much power we give him.”

“It reminds me of a piece of history from our sector. About how the Roma Republic allowed a single man to have unlimited power when emergencies arose. Their Senate would step aside and hand all responsibility to a person they chose to be dictator for two years. After that time, they would allow for the possibility for extensions to take place if the situation required it.”

“What happened to the Roma Republic?” Bail asked, his interest piqued. “I take it that system didn’t work out for them in the long term.”

Roosevelt shook his head. “The last person their Senate chose was named Julius Caesar and refused to give up his power. He turned the Republic into an Empire and conquered half of Europa, Aravia, and parts of the Afrikana Regions.”

Bail’s face furrowed a little. He knew some history of the Terran Sector, but there was so much that one could say that the sector was a scaled-down version of the galaxy. The Roma Republic sounded similar to the situation that they were experiencing, and Palpatine’s term had already been extended because of the Clone Wars. “Let us hope that we never have to deal with such a situation.”

Franklin Roosevelt nodded in agreement and looked out the window, taking a few puffs from his cigarette and watching as speeders and starships flew through the air. No matter how hard he tried, the sight in front of him just wasn’t as relaxing as it had been earlier.

Year 13, Month 08, Day 07
Allied-occupied Brindisi
Kingdom of Noria


General Harold Alexander’s transport shook as it moved through the atmosphere of the planet. There were still holdouts who swore loyalty to Mussolini, but it was deemed secure enough for him and his staff to arrive on the planet. The holdouts would eventually be taken care of by the Allied garrison that would be staying behind to ensure security and maintain order, with the assistance from the Norian Loyalists.

He had been surprised that the planet had been secured as quickly as it had been, but he shouldn’t have been surprised considering that he had Erwin Rommel leading the assault. He knew of several of His Majesty’s general officers who had an unfavorable view of working with Rommel, especially General Montgomery, a man who had no tact whatsoever, and seemed as just as much a handful as he had been on Earth. He was in command of a division that had been in competition with Rommel’s on who could gain the most glory, but while Montgomery wanted to make himself look good, Rommel was focused on defeating Getov and stopping Hitler, a nobler goal in Alexander’s opinion.

“Norian Air Contol, this is Transport BZ134, requesting approach vector to Allied Command,” the pilot called over the comm. General Alexander didn’t hear a response, but heard the pilot reply, “Copy that; moving toward assigned approach vector.”

Alexander looked outside the viewport to see the four Spitfires that were escorting him to the surface of the planet. This was the first time that he would be on Europa Proper since the evacuation of the Albion Expeditionary Force at Dunkirk. At least it was for this version of myself, he though. He sat back down and remembered how on Earth, the Italian Front had grinded to a crawl, and was only able to take the city of Rome in June ’44. This time, it was moving at a much faster pace, and he was thankful for that. The loss of so much Getov equipment and men when Sicily fell had resulted in fewer defenders for the invasion of Brindisi. It was also fortunate that Mussolini had dismissed many members of their General Staff and placed the royal family under house arrest. This divided the Norian military, and when the king freed, he became a rallying point and was actually doing something.

Alexander smiled at the memory of seeing King Victor Emmanuel III on the HoloNet, declaring Mussolini and those who supported him, traitors to the Kingdom and declared Noria’s allegiance to the Allies. Hitler’s response had been the usual bluster of how Noria’s king and followers were traitors, and calling for the Norian people to rise up against him. None of it was happening, but he knew that there would be a few diehards who would try.

Alexander felt the transport bank to the left as it made its way toward where members of his staff had set up the command center for the Norian Front. He could see the fleet assembling for the upcoming attack on Roma, a plan pushed by Rommel and Cunningham that he had approved of. The invasion was going to take place in two and a half weeks, and they needed to keep the enemy off balance and retake the capital to give the Norian people the morale boost from reclaiming Roma. “Godspeed, gentlemen,” he whispered. Several minutes passed and they began to approach the planetary capital city of Brindisi, where the Norian Loyalist government and Allied command had set up a provisional capital and Allied headquarters.

Seeing the fighters pull away, he knew they were on final approach and attempted to straighten his uniform when they finally landed. Standing up and trying to brush away the wrinkles, he walked toward the hatch and was surprised to see an honor guard standing a few meters away from the transport. Half of them were wearing the uniform of the Norian military while the other half was wearing uniforms of the Albion armed forces. Walking down the ramp, the Norian national anthem began to play, and at the end of the procession, stood King Emmanuel himself. His surprise must have shown because he could see the monarch smile as he walked and stopped at the end of the formation and saluted.

“Welcome to Brindisi, General Alexander,” the king said, returning the salute.

Colonel Churchill stood in a small courtyard, examining the lightsaber that he had taken off of the fallen Teutonic Knight that he had faced. After the rescue of the Norian Royal Family, he and the rest of his commandos had become of a folk heroes to the people of Noria. He and his boys had been treated to many different homes that were sharing what they could with people who they saw as the guardians of their King, and had been given housing in one of the many high-end hotels that had remained undamaged in the battle. It gave him perfect view of the Allied ships as they moved through the area. At this time, most of the frontline soldiers were being placed on occupation duty for a few weeks to give them time to relax while other veteran units were being sent into space to prepare for the invasion of Roma. Outside, he could see he could see Allied NCOs barking orders to privates to complete their assigned tasks. Organized chaos was a term he had heard the Yanks heard, and it seemed fitting.

The commando placed the lightsaber on his belt and reached over to his Damascus steel claymore, a family heirloom that dated back to the Jedi-Sith War. Thinking back to the duel he had with the Knight, he realized that he was going to need more training if he encountered more, and he had a feeling that he would. He had already heard from Axis Sally how the Teutonic Knights had singled him out and planned on taking vengeance on him for the death of a knight. While many of the higher-ups were worried for his safety, he felt more flattery than anything else. He knew that if they were singling him out, then he was doing something right. He had made a point to drill his commandos in fighting techniques that could help in a fight with them.

The colonel looked around the courtyard and could see some of his men were laughing and smiling with each other, one group was playing cribbage, and some were enjoying some of the food that had managed to survive the fighting, but a majority were taking care of their weaponry. Maintaining blasters was a chore, because of their need of constant maintenance it was required that a blaster be cleaned whenever the chance was given. The last thing a soldier wanted was his weapon to stop working at a critical moment. That was one reason why he carried the old slugthrower with him. Yes it was antiquated and had no real use on the battlefield, but what was good about them was the ease of maintenance and their ability to go for days without needed a deep cleaning.

“Colonel Churchill?” a young soldier walking up to him asked.

“Yes, that is me,” he answered, wondering what this was about.

The soldier saluted and after it was returned, he continued. “That is good to know. I’ve been looking for you for the last half hour. General Clark requests your presence at his HQ.”

Churchill nodded. “Did he say what it was about?”

The young soldier shook his head. “No, sir. I was just instructed to find you and bring you to his HQ.”

“Very well, let me inform my subordinates.” He walked back into the courtyard and turned to one of the commandos. “Let Leftenant Grayson know that I will be at Clark’s when he wakes up.”

The commando nodded in understanding and went back to cleaning his rifle.

The ride took them to a building just outside the primary spaceport. Colonel Churchill was surprised to see that there was a formation of soldiers standing at attention before several speeders and tanks. Curious as to what was happening, the speeder stopped and the young officer pointed toward a small group of soldiers who were off to the side. As his walked toward them, he saw fellow commando, Lt. Colonel William Darby of the UP Army Rangers, his arm in a sling.

“Good afternoon, Colonel. What happened to your arm?” Churchill asked.

Colonel Darby simply shrugged. “Got hit by shrapnel when my men and I were taking one of holdouts on the planet. Nothing really too serious, but the docs want to keep my out of action for a while.”

Churchill looked back at the soldiers gathered and noticed for the first time that the uniforms were not the tan that his military wore or the OD that was worn by the Americans. These were Norian soldiers, but they weren’t wearing the uniforms that he had normally seen them wear either.

“Do you know what is happening here?” he asked.

“I have no idea,” Colonel Darby replied. “I was just told to come to here and that’s what I did.”

Soon, an Albion major came toward his group and organized them into a line and a Norian colonel called all of them to attention. As they waited, Churchill looked out of the corner of his eye to see four individuals walking past the formation and realized that this was an important ceremony of some kind. He could see King Victor Emmanuel III of Noria, Norian Prime Minister Pietro Badoglio, General Harold Alexander Commander-in-Chief of the Mediterranean Theater, and General Mark Clark. As the ceremony began, Churchill realized that everyone was being awarded medals. He watched, or rather listened, as Colonel Darby was awarded the Norian Gold Medal of Military Valour for his actions in the liberation of Brindisi. When it was Churchill’s time to receive his award, the King walked up to him personally, and even though he towered over the monarch, there was an inner strength that betrayed his diminutive height.

“Colonel Churchill,” he started. “I owe you not only my life, but those of my family, and I pray that I will be able to repay this debt. You stormed the isolated resort where we were being held and fought against a Getov Teutonic Knight in single combat. For that: my family and I thank you, for we would have suffered a fate far worse at the hands of the Gestapo. For these actions, you are hereby awarded the Gold Medal of Military Valour, as will your comrades who fell in battle.” He turned to face the formation behind him. “I cannot bring back those who died for me, but I promise that we will not stop until our homeland is free of the traitor Mussolini and he is tried for his crimes against the Norian people. That, I solemnly swear to all of you.”

Two Hours Later


After the award ceremony, the Prime Minister and General Alexander were both sitting in the temporary government building for the Kingdom of Noria. Both men were sitting in chairs and smoking cigars, attempting to enjoy the brief moment of tranquility in the chaos that is war.

“That was a good ceremony,” Badoglio said, between puffs. “I know that Colonel Churchill is going to enjoy the increased fame that he will no doubt gain from this matter.”

Alexander couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, he is rather peculiar fellow, but you cannot disagree with the results he makes.”

The Prime Minister laughed. “Yes, indeed.” He then turned the conversation to business. “General, I have a request to make of you.” Getting a look of curiosity from the General, he continued. “We want to take part in the invasion of Roma. I know we are not in any position to help directly, but the King is insistent on the matter. There are those in the populous that still place blame of our whole situation on His Majesty. The people need to know that we are going to do something about Mussolini and taking part in the liberation of our capital is what they need. They need to see that we are not simply allowing for another invading force to take over our country, but that we are indeed part of this in reclaiming our homes.

“I know we don’t have the amount of equipment needed for such an operation, but perhaps we you could help us in that matter. It doesn’t have to be a large part of the operation, but it has to be something so we can show we are doing something.”

Alexander was quiet for a while, puffing on his cigar and thinking. After a minute of silence, he took the cigar out of his mouth. “Prime Minister, I know you feel like you need to do something to prove something to not only to your people, but to yourselves as well, but as you mentioned you are not properly equipped for such an endeavor.”

He could see despair on the Prime Minister’s face but he continued, “However, I do have an idea of someone who could find a use for any of your forces that wish to join in the liberation of Roma.”

“Thank you, General,” the Badoglio managed to say, surprised that he had managed to accomplish what the King wanted.

Alexander simply smiled and nodded in acknowledgement. “You’ll have to speak with General Rommel on this. He’ll be the one leading the invasion on Roma, and he will expect the best for your men.”

“Yes, General,” Badoglio said, surprised still at what had happened. “I will see to that our very best take part in this.” He managed to compose himself before he continued. “We shall show Mussolini and his supporters who truly governs Noria.”

Chapter Text

Year 13, Month 08, Day 10
IKN Shigure, 27th Destroyer Squadron
Solomon Star System


Slowly and silently, the Imperial Japanese destroyer Shigure drifted through the darkness of space, accompanied by three other destroyers on the outer edges of the system, the ships running on minimal power to keep themselves from being discovered. Commander Tameichi Hara stood on the bridge, his hands behind his back, staring into the void. Around him, the bridge crew were working at their stations as they prepared for the raid they were to begin in ten minutes.

The fight for the Solomon system, a system with gas giants with several inhabitable moons, had been a long a difficult one, and one that he had not expected to find himself in when he had died back on Earth. He didn’t know why this had happened and it had shaken him to the core. He had seen his homeland defeated once before by the Americans and to see it again was a nightmare. He knew that Katania was doomed to lose the war, but there was loyalty to the Emperor that he had to consider. He had awoken aboard a destroyer that carried the same name as the one he had commanded in the Pacific War, fighting the battle for Guadalcanal. Upon first arriving, he did not know what to do. Was he to fight in a war and once again see his country lose, or surrender himself? When he realized that he had others under his command to think about, he chose to do his duty and fight, if only to ensure that those under his command would live. After several weeks of fighting, he soon learned about how the Terran Sector was part of an even larger conflict, with his new homeland siding with a group that he had mixed feelings over, and was unsure of their stability in the long run.

“Sir, five minutes until the jump into hyperspace,” the navigational officer reported, looking up from his screen.

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Hara replied, giving the officer a nod of acknowledgement. He brought his thoughts back to the task at hand. This was one of the last orders that Admiral Yamamoto had issued before his “reassignment” to Tokyo, but many knew what it truly was. Punishment for not protecting the Confederate fleet when it arrived in the sector. He was glad to know that one of the greatest naval flag officers had managed to survive further than his counterpart on Earth, and he had managed to speak with the man personally, if only for a few minutes.

“All personnel reporting at battle stations,” the operations officer reported.

“Turbolaser batteries and other weapon systems are on standby, sir” the weapons officer said soon afterward, and soon, all stations reported they were ready.

Commander Hara gave the navigational officer a nod and he reached for a set of levers. “Prepare to enter hyperspace.” Soon the stars became starlines, and the destroyer squadron began their short journey into the heart of the Solomon system.

Their mission was a raid to destroy a supply convoy that was bringing important reinforcements and equipment for the Americans that were fighting on the last few moons of the primary gas giant. Katanian High Command had finally realized that the system was near impossible to hold and had called for an evacuation of the islands, but that didn’t mean that the Katanian Navy was going to do nothing. His assignment was supposed to be easy, at least according to the intelligence reports that he had received, but he remembered how “reliable” they had been on Earth, and this had not Changed his opinion on such matters. All he could hope for was that he and his squadron would survive the engagement and return unharmed.

“Commander, we are exiting hyperspace in five…four…three…two…” the pilot pulled back on the hyperdrive’s levers, bringing the ship back into normal space.

Commander Hara cursed, and he was far from the only person on the bridge or squadron to do so. Instead of appearing near the American convoy, they had dropped out in the middle of an American task force of three carriers and their escorts. “Begin evasive maneuvers and fire weapons. I want proton torpedoes and missiles fired on a full spread. If it doesn’t put it on the path of one of ours, I want one that vector. Turbolasers are to fire on the closest American vessel. Have all ships to begin calculations for a jump out of the system.” The crew began to work at a lightning pace. From the bridge, he could see the launching of dozens of torpedoes and missiles toward the enemy task force.

“What’s the status of the enemy fleet, Lieutenant?”

“I’m detecting a lot of communications between the ships about us, but when we fired, all of them began panicking,” the sensor operator reported. “Many are conducting evasive maneuvers to avoid the missiles and torpedoes, but it won’t keep them occupied for long.” As if to drive the point on his statement, several laser bolts arched toward them and impacted the shields, shaking the vessel from the impacts.

“Commander, shields are down to 91% strength,” the operations officer reported. “We’ll lose shields in five minutes if we don’t jump soon.”

“Status of those calculation, Lieutenant?” Hara asked, trying not to lose control of the situation. He had never experienced something like this before. Not even the close quarters naval fighting in the Solomons on Earth was like this.

“We need another minute before a safe jump has been calculated out of the system,” he reported.

“What’s the status on the rest of the squadron?”

"All ships indicate they have received light to moderate damage, sir,” the sensor operator reported. “All ships are continuing to evade what fire we can and fire at targets of opportunity.”

A bright flash erupted from their starboard, and the destroyer listed to port slightly. “Sensors: Report.”

“A cruiser just hit us with one of their heavy turbolaser batteries, sir. Shields are down to 79%. The other vessels are reporting reduced power to shields. The American ships are beginning to concentrate their fire on us.”

“Damn it all,” Hara whispered. “Nav, get us out of this situation, now!”

“Sir, heavy weapons have been exhausted,” the weapons officer reported, panic beginning to slip into his voice. “Laser battery crews are still firing at targets of opportunity.”

“Heavy cruiser approaching from bearing 330, elevation 36 degrees. ETA until we are in their weapon’s range: twenty seconds.”

“Computer has just calculated the jump, sir,” the nav replied.

“Take us out of here, Lieutenant.”

“Sir, that cruiser will be on us before we enter,” the sensor operator cried. He was near panic and it was beginning to spread to the rest of the bridge.

Commander Hara was beginning to feel it himself. Fear was the main enemy of battle, and was more deadly than any bullet or shell or weapon, and he realized that he just may die here today. He thought about whatever being had sent him to this galaxy, and how it could have allowed this to happen to him. Why had it removed him from a place of eternal rest to a war that he did not want to fight? To be with the spirits of his family back on Earth was what he wanted, but now he was here to die in a war that he didn’t fully identify with. His inner thoughts were soon interrupted by a ship moving across the view of the bridge. He first thought that it was the American cruiser, but the identification code revealed that it was the destroyer Shiratsuyu was moving to intercept and block the cruiser.

“Comm, bring up Commander Matsuda,” Commander Hara ordered. “Ask him what he is doing.”

The officer sent the question, all the while, they could see the destroyer engaging the cruiser, absorbing the impacts as it fired its weapons at the American ship. “He says that he is ensuring the commander of the 27th Destroyer Squadon survives the battle, and that we are to leave him so that we may escape.”

Commander Hara felt conflicted about this. He did not want to die, but for a ship commander and his crew to offer themselves to save his life was an act that he did not expect to see. He couldn’t allow such a thing to happen, but his will to live overcame his emotions. “Tell Commander Matsuda: Thank you, and that we will not forget his sacrifice.”

“Engaging hyperdrive,” the nav reported, and pulled back in the levers. Soon, the battle around them disappeared as the stars turned into streaks, and the swirls of hyperspace enveloped them.

***

One Day Later
New Guinea System
Katanian-occupied Niugini


Commander Hara sat in his quarters, looking over the damage reports of his three surviving ships that had survived the botched raid. Both had received moderate damage before entering hyperspace, but they would all be in the spacedocks for at least a month each until parts could be salvaged from other ships. He was fortunate to have survived that engagement to begin with, but the loss of a destroyer, and its commanding officer was something that he had never become used to, even back on Earth. He realized that once again, Katanian Intelligence was wrong on what to expect, and had been fortunate that he had not been killed as a result. He knew that it was his flexibility in combat that allowed him to survive, and it was something that he tried to pass to this fellow commanders in the squadron.

The holoprojector on his desk beeped, and letting out an annoyed huff, he turned it on, and was surprised to see Admiral Mineichi Koga standing. “Good afternoon, Commander,” he said, in a firm tone. “I wanted to tell you personally that you did a good job with the assignment that you had been given. I am sorry that our intelligence was wrong and that it resulted in the loss of one of your destroyers and its crew and commander.”

“Thank you, Admiral Koga. I am sure that will comfort the families of those who died,” he said in a not quiet sarcastic tone. “They should be honored to know that their families died for the Emperor.” The image of Admiral Koga was too small to see the details, but he was sure that he saw the admiral bristle at the statement.

“I wanted to let you know that this may turn out to have been a blessing in disguise,” Koga explained. “From the information we had gathered from your ships’ computers, we’ve been able to ascertain that several of the ships had been heavily damaged, and you managed to hit one of the carriers. We were unable to establish how damaged it was, but we are certain that it was successful in hitting the engines.”

“Thank you, Admiral,” Commander Hara replied. “I was just trying to ensure that we all escaped. It was nothing really special.”

“I also wanted to tell you that those on the General Staff in Tokyo had already read the report and this will be a great morale boost for those of the Katanian Empire. You can expect to receive much recognition for this great act.”

“Thank you, Admiral. With all due respect, I would like to get back to the operations of my squadron. We received damaged on all ships and I need to help in overseeing the repairs.”

“Of course, Commander,” the admiral said with a nod. “I will leave you to your task. Have a good day.”

“And you as well, Admiral.” The projector switched off and Hara was already dreading the recognition he would receive for this. He remembered well what the people in Tokyo would do. They would call this a daring raid against the foreign devil Americans where four destroyers destroyed over twenty vessels by themselves, with one that didn’t return destroying either a battleship or carrier in a blaze of glory. The thought if such lies by the propaganda machine sickened him, and it was a dishonor to the men who sacrificed themselves to protect him and his crew.

“For the glory and honor of the Emperor,” Hara said to himself, and winced at the statement. How could this be honorable if most of the Admiralty didn’t understand how to fight a war against the United States? His superiors were using what amounted to cavalry tactics to fight naval battles. Very few of them truly understood the role that fighters and bombers could play in combat and from what he had hear, they were planning on dividing their forces in the face the Americans when they should concentrate their efforts. Most importantly, Tojo, and the rest of the Imperial government, simply did not appreciate the speed with which the Americans could develop new weapons and realizing that this would be a war of attrition.

Shaking his head at the thought of everything, he saw that he would once again fight a losing war against the Americans, and that he would no doubt be one of the few to survive. On Earth, he had been a loyal and aggressive commander up to the end of the war, one of the only ship commanders to survive the entire Pacific Conflict. He saw his beloved Japan reduced to a third world nation, and died right when it was beginning to return to the global stage. Loyalty to the Emperor could only take you so far, especially when you were reliving a nightmare you knew was going to end badly. What was a man to do when in a situation such as this? He closed his eyes, saying a small prayer to kami for help, but the only response he heard were the sounds of his ship.

Year 13, Month 08, Day 20
LST 325, Allied Invasion Fleet
Roma System, Norian Empire


Caporale Antonio Caruso gripped his weapon as the transport shook from entering the atmosphere. This would be the second time he had been fighting on the planet Roma. The first time, his entire regiment had been pulled back from the fighting on Roma to rebuild, having suffered close to fifty percent casualties. Most of those deaths had been the result of the Getov military that brought artillery onto a ridge overlooking his regiment’s position. He whispered a silent prayer as he heard debris hitting the outside of his transport. He didn’t want to die, but he also didn’t want to see his home turn into a puppet of the Getov leadership.

Caruso had supported Mussolini in the beginning. His country was in shambles and needed a strong leader to bring them through the Great Depression. The man had promised to bring Noria back onto the world stage, and had been successful, allowing for Noria to reclaim territory that was rightfully theirs after the end of the Great Terran War. That Changed when Mussolini arrested the King and his family, an act that proved very unpopular among a people who were tired of fighting.

“Approaching LZ,” a voice cam over the internal PA system. “Five minutes.”

Caruso took that moment to check over his gear. His sergeants had made it a point to always check your gear, and with these new American weapons, he wanted to be as familiar with them as with his first love. He admired the Garand blaster rifle he had. It was built better than the Carcano blaster carbine he originally had been issued and fired more bolts, a bonus in his opinion, and one that was shared by many others. The cargohold was filled with the sounds of vehicles starting up as commanders started their Sherman battle tanks, another gift from the Allies, and everyone took their positions.

“Listen up, soldiers!” the regiment’s sergeant said over the comm. “Last time we were here, Il Duce showed his true self by kidnapped our king and supporting the Huns in invading our homes, showing us just how much they’ve Changed from the days of the Roma Empire. Nothing but a bunch of savages. Well, now the Roman Legions are returning to reclaim what is rightfully ours. We are going to kick the Huns out of our country, and after that, we are going to push strait toward the heart of their so called Third Reich, showing them that the Norian military is a force to be reckoned with!”

“LZ, ninety seconds away,” the PA system announced.

“I know what I am going to be doing,” the sergeant said, continuing his rant. “I am going to walk right into Il Duce’s office and skewer the traitor with my vibrobayonet, ass first.”

Caruso looked at a few of the others around him and saw several of them grin at the sergeant’s statement. A few grim chuckles came from those who had not seen any action, lessening the tension and nervousness of the green soldiers.

“When those doors open, the tanks are going to move in first, then we follow to support them. Remember your training. Keep your head down and blaster raised. You can’t shoot someone if your rifle is pointed at the ground.”

“LZ thirty seconds,” the PA announced as a particularly large thump struck the front of the transport, causing the whole vessel to shake.

“When we land, don’t stop running! Men get killed when they stop running! God help you if you do get men killed, because I will personally make sure to take it out of your ass.”

A mechanical sound was heard and the vessel shook as the hydraulics absorbed the weight of the transport as it began setting down on solid ground.

“On your feet!”

All men within the transport stood up, holding their weapons at the ready.

“Fix vibrobayonets!”

The men attached the long vibroblades onto the ends of their blasters, the latch locking them into place. The front of the transport opened up, revealing a chaotic scene in front of them. Tanks were already moving forward with infantry supporting them. It was something that Caporale Antonio Caruso was familiar with. He could feel a something growing inside of him, a primal urge that both terrified and invigorated him. He had felt this before that last time he had fought on Roma, when he and five others had charged a repeating blaster nest and he had plunged his vibrobayonet into the Getov soldier who manned it.

As the tanks began to move down the ramp, the sergeant shouted, so loud that he didn’t need to use the regiment’s comm. “Forward, men!”

Caporale Caruso crouched low in the rubble that was one a small village, ducking between piles. The initial wave of tanks had encountered a series of defensive structures, creating a field of fire on the exposed landing parties. He had seen several men fall to the bolts of the defending soldiers, and had been almost too close when a rocket had caused a tank to explode. The fighting had become very close-quarters when the first lines had been reached, with the vibrobayonets coming into play more than the actual rifles.

A couple of squads ran forward, moving a few at a time to give the enemy as small a target as possible, providing covering fire to allow other to move ahead of them. Caruso peeked over the ruble, noticing a small path that looked as if it led through to the next line of trenches and was heavily defended. Motioning three other soldiers who had accompanied him, he pointed toward the path and grabbed his thermal detonator. The others did the same and after pressing the switch on them, tossed them overhead, landing on the other side of the debris and causing a huge explosion.

Caruso ran forward, keeping low. He saw a Getov soldier rise up from behind the rubble, and fired out of reflex. He managed to see the soldier fall back from a hit to the shoulder. As he continued to move, three more men were killed, two with blaster shots and the third with a stab from his bayonet.

By now, other soldiers were following him or moving through other breaches in the defenses. Taking a moment to catch a breath and to make sure his blaster was still charged, he looked to his left to see several other soldiers crouched, some of them with cocky grins on their faces. Their uniforms were similar to those of the Americans, but their skin was darker, but not as if they were from the Afrikana Region of the sector. It wasn’t until he got a good look at their patches and heard that they were speaking Portuguese that he figured it out. These were members of the Brasillian Expeditionary Force, and from what he had heard, were some of the bravest, and craziest soldiers out there. One of them, with the name Silva on his jacket, sketched a quick salute at Caruso as he grinned before he and those with him went around the rubble they were taking cover behind.

Caruso simply shook his head at the actions of the BEF in disbelief. If I ever meet those guys after this is over, I’m going to buy them drinks on me, he though. Taking one last breath, he ran through the gap and toward the sounds of battle.

General Rommel’s tank moved strait toward the defensive line that covered the landing area, the rest of his tank platoon following him close behind, with infantry supporting them. Several of the bunkers were attempting to destroy the tanks, but the shields of the Shermans were able to withstand the barrage, at least for the moment until they could get in close enough to fire the main gun.

“Bunker, straight ahead,” Rommel said calmly.

“Identified!” the gunner announced.

The breech opened and closed as a shell was placed in. “Gun loaded!”

“Fire!” Rommel ordered, and was met with the tank shaking as the bolt flew downrange and impacting the bunker. When the smoke cleared, the bunker still stood, firing its cannon. Rommel cursed and ordered another round to be loaded. When the cannon roared again, he could see the bunker explode, and it wasn’t the only one. The rest of the tanks in his platoon fired their main guns, breaking open a large hole in the lines. He could see soldiers, either Getov or Norian fascists pulling back.

Rommel switched his comlink on to the rest of the platoon’s frequency. “All tanks advance. Infantry will support us as we advance.” He felt the tank move forward and he took that moment to stick his head out the copula. Looking up, he could see fighters dashing through the sky, those of the Allies fighting the fascists for domination. He knew that this would be a tough battle, but it would be a sign to the rest of Europa that the Allies were going to win this war. He heard a faint whining in the air, and it sounded familiar to him. It took him several seconds before he remembered what it was, but by then, the whine had become louder.

“Stuka!” the soldiers around him yelled, diving for cover.

Rommel buttoned up the hatch as three Stuka gunships moved through the sky at low altitude, the characteristic cry heard even inside the tank. “All tanks spread out! Infantry, scatter!” He looked down at the readout in front of him and could see them coming from 2 o’clock; by that time, the tank was moving quickly in reverse.

“Rocket’s ready, sir,” the gunner announced. “Locked on to the leading target.”

“Fire!” Rommel commanded, and a trail of smoke showed the path the projective was following. The other tanks had followed with their own rocket launches, with the infantry firing their rifles at the approaching gunships. Two of the three Stuka exploded in a large ball of flame as the rockets hit their target. The last one, however, seemed to have been blessed. The rockets that were aimed toward it seemed to veer off course when they approached, the Stuka making a beeline toward Rommel’s formation.

“Shoot that Stuka down!” Rommel said, almost yelling. He had survived many attempts on his life, and he did not want to experience another.

The gunship was fifty meters away when it was hit in the side by a rocket. Rommel took a quick glance to see a man with an anti-tank bazooka that had just been fired, a hit that was no doubt difficult to make with a non-guided munition. The Stuka fell to the ground, but was moving so fast that it continued to move toward Rommel’s tank. He didn’t have time to say anything before the gunship hit.

Rommel could smell smoke and he opened his eyes to see that he was still alive. He looked around him and saw that the outside of his tank was on fire, and that smoke was beginning to pour in through some of components. “Bail out!” he yelled, he hearing suffering from the explosion. He looked down at the gunner and shook him, and the man soon grabbed his head. Rommel looked around him to see that he and the gunner were the only ones who were alive. The others had debris sticking out of them. “Come on, we’re bailing out!”

Opening the hatch and could feel the heat all around him. Pulling himself up, he leaped behind the tank and was joined by his gunner and a few of the soldiers who had been escorting his tank platoon. “Are you okay, sir?” one of them asked.

Rommel took a moment to try and gather himself. He had fought in so many battles, but that was probably the first time that he felt as though he wasn’t going to make it. “I’m fine,” he said finally. “Get me a radio.”

Rommel soon began to experience infantry combat for the first time a several years. The rest of his tank platoon was sticking close to his location, forming a perimeter around him and the soldiers. There were a more than one attempt by the Norian and Getov soldiers to try and attack, but they were discouraged by the arrival of Spirfires in the air.

Rommel fired his blaster several times, but he felt naked without the armor or shield that his tank had given him. After several minutes of intense fighting, two more tank platoons, with infantry and other vehicles, came up behind them. Rommel walked up to the senior officer and told them to move forward, giving the same order to what was left of his tank platoon, but not before he borrowed the comm set. He switched it to the quartermaster’s frequency. “Colonel Buckle, this is Rommel.”

“What do you need, sir?” the Kannatian quartermaster asked.

“I need another tank, colonel. My last one was hit by a Stuka.”

“Where am I supposed to get another tank, general,” the quartermaster asked, some humor slipping into his voice. “It’s not like I can just throw water on a box and one magically appears.”

“Colonel, you managed to equip the entire Royal Norian force for this invasion. I think you can manage this,” Rommel replied.

A sigh was heard on the other end. “I’ll do what I can, general, but I can’t promise that it will be a tank. You might have to settle for a command vehicle.”

“Just get me back in the fight. I can take it from there.”

Year 13, Month 08, Day 27
In orbit of Chin
Katanian-occupied Bamar


Captain Dokai Gemedi, commanding officer of the Lucrehulk battleship Defiler, walked across the bridge. On one side, the crew were at their stations, working on the various assignments needed to keep a vessel such as his working. On the other side, he could see out into space and the planet Chin, a backwater planet in a backwater sector. One that was currently being fought over by the Allies and those of the Katanian and Confederate military.

“Captain,” said an electronic voice.

He turned to see a droid walking up to him, a datapad in its hand. “What is it?”

“These are the latest reports on the situation on the surface,” the droid answered, handing him the datapad. “You said you wanted them as soon as they were finished.”

“Thank you,” he said calmly. The droid turned and left and he began to curse the Allies.

When he had first heard that the fleet that he was part of would be moving to the Terran Sector, he believe that it would be an easy victory. That the superior technology and numbers of the Confederacy would sweep the American fleet from the Pacifica Region and then move toward the Atlantica to assist the Getov Reich. However, that first day in the Terran Sector had shown him that the Americans were not as easily defeated as he originally thought. The ambush that the fleet had suffered had resulted in close to a third of the ships destroyed, while the rest were cannibalized to keep the others working, resulting on half of the fleet that had arrived being combat ready.

How dare they, he thought. It was a statement that he had said to his crew and himself on more than one occasion. The Americans were as corrupt as the Republic whom they had based themselves on. Nothing but a bunch of power-hungry politicians who only thought how they could advance their own agenda.

Looking down at the datapad he had been carrying, he read the latest reports from the planet. When he had been given orders to report to the Bamar Front, he was angry that he would not have the chance to get back at the American military, but he had relented after being talked to by the new commander of the Katanian Combined Fleet, saying that the Imperial Army was in need of the droids that his vessel could provide. So he reluctantly accepted it. He had heard that the Kunian military was in a terrible state from the Katanians, and that they would fold after experiencing the might of his battleship. When his ship had exited hyperspace over the planet, the Allied fleet had been pushed back, losing several ships. He had then sent a quarter of the droid forces on board his vessel to the surface on the planet, with an orbital bombardment that hit several formations on the surface. His actions had brought about a route that had pushed the Allies back at numerous locations, until once again he had been attacked by the Allied raiders.

“Damn those ships,” he muttered. They were a pain and were not a proper way to fight a war. He had had to resort to using the Katanian escort ships as a screen to prevent it from happening again, but that didn’t stop the raiders from laying mines and sending the occasional proton torpedo in his direction.

He shook his head in frustration. He wanted to take his ship and move toward the surviving Allied vessels and destroy them, not to mention bombard the Allied forces on the surface into oblivion, but he had to be careful. He did manage to destroy several Allied vessels that were to reinforce the Army on the surface, and was using his droid fighters to swarm any ships that were vulnerable. He had learned that they were fighting a different kind of war than the rest of the galaxy. He agreed with the Katanian military that these soldiers of the Allies didn’t deserve surrender, and he had made it a point to order the droids to kill every Allied soldier, whether they be from Bamar, America, Kunia, or Albion. After what they had done to the fleet and the way they had done it, none of them deserved it, and he was going to make sure that his name and ship would strike fear into those of this theater.

***

Outer Defensive Perimeter
Hakha, Chin
Allied-controlled Bamar


Dusk was beginning to set in; columns of smoke rose from all over the area. Two of the greatest were from a couple of crashed transports that had been brought down when the Separatist warship arrived in orbit. Others were from burning debris from fighters, or vehicles that had been caught in the artillery bombardment that the Katanians and Separatists. The ones coming from the landing zone were from a small troop transport and two fighters that had collided while trying to avoid droid fighters at night. The arrival of the Separatist ship had turned a campaign that was beginning to gain momentum into a stalemate where neither side was able to gain an advantage over the other.

The Allies on the planet had lost several key locations across the planet, and the fighting had turned into holding back the enemy’s assaults until they could regroup and go on the offensive again. Unfortunately, everyone knew that this theater of the war was one of the lowest priorities, and reinforcements and supplies would be slow to arrive in the area. When the Separatist ship had arrived, the commanding officer on the ship had wasted no time in sending landing craft down to reinforce the Katanian forces that for the first time, had been retreating. The reinforcements had turned the fight around and the Allies had to withdraw to almost where they had been a few months prior. So far, the Allied lines held, with a combination of Mandalorian, Kunian and other allied nations, and aliens.

Major Zhang Yong grabbed the grenade that had been thrown into the trench line that he was in, then shot the droid that was walking toward him in the head. As the droid collapsed, he looked over the edge to see that dozens more coming toward him. He saw two droids rolling toward his location.

“Droideka!” a female voice beside him cried out, followed by two quick blaster shots that destroyed one and the other was destroyed by the grenade that Yong had thrown earlier.

Yong looked to his left to see a female, blue-skinned Twi’lek, her blaster rifle pointing down range as she took several carefully aimed shot, destroying several more battledroids. He moved down the line, reaching a gun emplacement that was using a salvaged cannon from a Sherman. The crew, made up of Wookiees and humans, fired a round into a Katanian tank. The vehicle came to a stop as the bolt of energy slammed into the side armor, the vehicle exploding in a brilliant flash. The crew readied the cannon again and seeing another tank, waited for it to come into range and fired. This tank was hit just under the repulsorlifts and began to billow smoke. The tank’s hatches flew open and the surviving crew attempted to bail out. Another Twi’lek, this one’s skin a shade of purple, fired four quick shots, killing the survivors. The Wookiees took that moment to let out a roar and fired on the infantry that had been moving up with the tanks. The infantry took cover and began to move forward, taking turns advancing, while the droids continued to move forward.

The Wookiees began to man-handle the cannon into another position while the rest of the crew concentrated on firing on the advancing infantry. This was the third attempt at a breakthrough for the Katanian military in this area with armored support, but they all had been pushed back. This one, however, had him worried. With the near limitless numbers of the droids, they may very well be overwhelmed despite their successes.

“Fighterrrrs!” a Wookiee bellowed.

The Major looked up to see a flight of droid attack craft moving into toward the trench line, firing missiles as they approached. As he and others dived for cover, a couple of missiles were launched from further behind the lines, destroying one of the four while the remaining three continued pounding the tranches.

Their bombardment didn’t last long. A flight of American P-40 Warhawks, flew in, causing the droid craft to turn and try to make a break for friendly space. One was brought down immediately with the remaining two peppered with laser fire until they were shot down also. Two more flights of P-40s flew in, these dropping bombs on the advancing Kantanian and droid forces, following up with several strafing runs. The attackers began to stall and then began to pull back, the fighters continuing to harry the retreating forces.

A cheer began spread through the lines and for the first time, Lieutenant Yong noticed the shark’s mouth painted on the nose of the fighters. “The Flying Tigers,” he said, a grin forming on his face as the fighters continued to circle the area. He looked to his right to see the purple-skinned Twi’lek, a small smile on her face as she looked around to survey the damage. When he had first met these aliens, he didn’t much care for them, but he realized that perhaps he had been wrong in his assumptions. They weren’t foreign devils like he had been told, or something to be feared or be suspicious of. General Sun had been right to include them in the fighting, and they had proven to be some of the most loyal and dangerous fighters. He would gladly sacrifice himself for one of them if it came to it.

Kunian 1st Army HQ
Hakha, Chin
Allied-controlled Bamar


General Sun Li-jen, now commander of the Kunian 1st Army, looked over the planetary situation. He was still becoming used to the new position, having been given the command after General Cheng Tung-kuo’s transport had been destroyed when they had arrived within the system, swarmed by droid fighters from the Separatist battleship. It was a promotion he had wanted, but the circumstances could have been better. What he enjoyed even less than the command he had been given was the operation that he was taking part in.

General Stillwell had pulled him off the offensive operations in the Assam System and given him the assignment of being the spear point for an offensive into Katanians occupied Bamar. It was an offensive that Stillwell claimed would be the first step in reopening the Bamar Route, but Sun had his doubts. He knew how an operation like this on Earth panned out, it was slow and in the end was redundant, but he could see how this operation would offer a pool of trainers for when he returned to Kunia.

The commanders in charge of the various operation on this front in the war were not happy at the current situation. General Stillwell was one who was fuming especially, saying at one time that the plans they had worked on were almost useless. Allied Command had not received any information that the Separatist battleship, Defiler, would be arriving within the system, and the surprise arrival of it had thrown operations within the system off. Stillwell had told his subordinates that the Katanians were beginning to Change the codes that they used, and the advantages that the Allies had experienced early in the war would be lot until they could be broken again.

I suppose it was only a matter of time, General Sun though as he looked down at a datapad, comparing the orders it had to the movements that his formations were doing. The forces in Sector Victor-5 had received the brunt of the Separatist attack and they had almost collapsed. He had feared that he would have to deal with route that would leave a large hole in the lines, but several battalions had volunteered to help them hold and had proven successful. It was moments like that where he was both proud and sad. Proud that his men would volunteer and sad that he had lost men under his command. He was pleased, however, that they had accepted the various aliens into their formations as comrades and had made his army some of the most diverse in the theater.

Looking at the map, Sun could see several formations that were pulling back and rebuilding fortifications. Looking over the terrain, he remembered how he entered the fighting in the trenches itself with his Wookiee bodyguards and the Mandalorian mercenaries. No more of that. I’m in charge of an Army, and that means that I can’t do foolish acts like that anymore. He sighed to himself. The map showed reinforcements moving up to the forward trenches. He had to almost beg for air support in that area, but he had successfully managed to convince the general in charge of fighters and bombers to send a couple of flights into that sector to ensure that he held. The fact that it was a flight from Flying Tigers was an unexpected bonus that would no doubt raise moral on the planet. They had been fortunate that they had stopped in the planet for fuel when they did.

Sun closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. He sometimes thought that whatever being had done this had a sick sense of humor. To be fighting the Chinese Civil War again, but this time with space combat? Having to deal with Chiang Kai-shek again was an aspect that he did not enjoy, especially now that he could receive some communications from him (an even bigger headache). Knowing what would happen to him in the future was a burden unto itself, which was one reason why he was being more political than he was originally. He had made a point to form friendships with several of the Allied commanders in the theater, mostly American, but also those from Albion, trying to make connections that could potentially prove useful in the future. That wasn’t his only goal. He knew that one of the reasons why the KMT had lost the civil war on Earth was that there were not enough competent officers for the entire military, and that they lacked “loyalty” to the Chiangs. He intended to make the best officer corps for the Kunian Republic, and ensure that they were so good, that Chiang and his followers wouldn’t dare dismiss any of them if he wanted to win. It was playing politics, something that he believed should stay out of the military, but he knew that he may have to play this sort of game if Kunia was to survive both Katania and the communists. He just hoped that it would be enough.

Chapter Text

Year 13, Month 08, Day 33
USMC Forward Operating Base
Bougainville, the Solomons


Captain Robin Martin and his gunner, 2nd Lieutenant Ernest Rivers were pre-flighting their Corsair gunship before they flew their first combat mission of the day. Both of them knew that the fighting for the Solomons was close to ending, but that didn’t mean that either of them were going to take it easy. There were still several holdouts on the planet, and US Marines and soldiers from Aurora were taking part in a final sweep in the sectors that had enemy activity.

The battle for the Solomons had been bloody, but Captain Martin knew that this was only the beginning. They still had several other planets to try and take from the Katanian Empire, and he knew that all of them would have to be as bad as this one. He and his gunner were one of the few flight crews to not have been shot down by the Katanians, and while their ship had returned with dozens of holes every time, he knew that he was one of the lucky ones. He had lost one of his closest friends, 1st Lieutenant Jack Hammond, when his craft had been shot down over enemy lines. When he saw his friend’s body after it had been recovered, he hated what the Katanians had done to him, and he vowed that he would not let that happen to anyone as long as he flew.

When his pre-flight was finished, the two Marine officers began the start-up sequence. Both hoping that their time in the hell called the Solomons would be over soon.

The Corsair took off into the air and they soon received a message over the radio. “Angel Six, this is Devil Dog Four.”

“Go ahead Devil Dog Four,” the captain replied. Devil Dog Four was the company commander of 9th Marine Regiment.

“Angel Six, we’ve got a couple of platoons of pissed off Katanians and are in need of immediate air support.”

“Roger, Devil Dog Four. We are inbound. ETA: seven minutes.”

Captain Martin increased the throttle and made his way toward Devil Dong Four’s location. Once he was overhead, he could see the exchange of shots between the Marines and Katanians. He received the coordinates of the enemy targets and began his attack run. On his first pass, Rivers fired several rockets into the enemy’s position. On his second pass, his gunner fired the cannons that were underneath the fuselage, killing anything that moved.

As Martin pulled away to avoid the possibility of an attack, his radio came to life. “Angel Six, the Katanians have stopped firing. We’re moving forward. Stay in the area to provide support in case we run into trouble.”

“Roger, Devil Dog Four. We are standing-by.”

As the Marines moves forward, he made his Corsair circle the area, to keep himself moving in case there were any surprises the Katanians had planned for any of them. When the Marines reached the locations where the enemy had been shooting from, they found over fifty bodies. Most had died from the rockets, but there were a few who were covered in burns from the laser cannons. The location was then marked and reported to command.

* * *

USS Enterprise
In orbit over Bougainville
The Solomons


The USS Enterprise, carrier for the United Systems Navy and flagship of Admiral William “Bull” Halsey, had been conducting almost nonstop operations for the past several days almost nonstop. The Enterprise’s fighters and bombers had been conducting bombing and support operations on the planets that were still experiencing high levels of Katanian activity, however, those planets that were of importance to the American and Auorian military operations were as secure they were going to get until the war was over.
Admiral Halsey read the latest report on the bridge of the carrier while outside, the combat group and escort vessels ensured that the Katanian military didn’t have any surprises for them. He knew the fanaticism their military would take in the future, but he was not going to take chances and wanted to ensure that no kamikaze craft even came close to his fleet. He had looked over the casualty reports, and while they were high, it was what he had expected. Most of the moons and planets that were of importance to the campaign were still experiencing Katanian activity, but it was mostly small groups that were scattered. Other bodies that had been bypassed would be left to whither on the vine until resources could be sent against them as time permitted, however, they were still a threat that couldn’t be left behind unchallenged. Admiral Nimitz had ordered that a task force be left behind to ensure that the planets under their control not experience any disruptions in operations, while the others were to make sure the Katanian fighters didn’t bring any unexpected surprises.

Halsey was looking over what forces he could leave behind, and while he would not want to, Nimitz had ordered him to keep at least one carrier and a couple escort carriers to stay behind with the necessary escorts and Marines needed to keep the system secure and ensure that the Katanians or their Separatist allies didn’t disrupt the supply flow. This was a factor that he had not counted on, and that was the threat of possible outside intervention in his area of responsibility.

It’s almost overwhelming, he though. Not to mention that the Katanians had begun to Change the codes they used. The last war didn’t have outside threats, but here he was constantly having to keep forces behind to ensure nothing caught him by surprise. He was going to make sure that he didn’t experience any blunders like the one at Leyte.

“Admiral, there is a message for you from General MacArthur,” the comm officer reported.

Halsey hid a grimace. Having to work with that arrogant jackass of a general was something he did not enjoy. He had half hoped that this one was from Earth as well, thinking that the General being reborn in a younger body would humble him bit, but he decided that it may be for the best if that MacArthur stay dead and instead deal with this one. “Route it to my quarters. I will speak with him in a few minutes.”

“Yes, sir” the officer replied, relaying the message and pressing the appropriate keys.

Halsey got up and began his trip to his quarters, taking a little longer than normal and to make that proud general wait. He knew what MacArthur wanted, and making him wait was just a way to enjoy some of the man’s discomfort. When he reached his quarters, he could see that the holoprojector was ready for him. Straitening his uniform and taken a deep breath he turned it on.

“Admiral Halsey,” MacArthur said, his voice revealing a hint of annoyance. “I’m happy you were able to take time out of your busy schedule to speak with me.”

“Apologies, General, but securing the Solomons is a rather difficult task. There are still many holdouts with which we have to deal with,” Halsey replied, trying to hide a smile. “This area is along the hyperspace route for your supplies that you have been receiving, and we don’t want to lose that lifeline.” He wasn’t sure but he was certain that he saw MacArthur bristle at that statement.

“Yes, of course, Admiral,” MacArthur said, without missing a beat. “What we need to do now is continue our offensive into Katanian territory. That means we need to continue our push in the New Guinea system. From there we can continue through the various systems until we are in range of Katania itself.”

“I agree, but New Guinea also houses one of their largest docking yards, and from what intelligence we have received, they are amassing a large force around the planet Rabaul in the system. So far we’ve been harrying them and preventing their forces from leaving the area surrounding the planet, but we have to deal with them now before they become too desperate.”

“I’m glad we agree, Admiral,” the General said with a nod. “That’s why I want your fleet to provide us with the necessary support for the offensive we are going to launch on Buna in New Guinea. You’ll make sure that the Katanian fleet stays at Rabaul.”

“Actually, General, I had a different plan in mind.” Halsey attached a datacard to the projector. “I’m sending you plans for an invasion that I have been working on. I’ve had the approval of Admiral Nimitz on this as well.” Halsey could see that MacArthur was not happy about this. The glory that he believed should be his was instead going to be with Halsey. “I want to launch invasions of the two moons that orbit Rabaul. They aren’t as heavily defended as the planet itself so it should be relatively easy compared to the Solomons. During that time, I will send a large raiding force to Rabaul to attack the shipyards there which should keep the Katanian fleet where they are.”

“And what will keep them from trying to retake the moons?”

“I managed to salvage a couple of hypervelocity guns from the Solomons. They should prove adequate in keeping the Katanian fleet where they are, and we should be able to destroy them at our leisure.” Halsey could see the look of defeat on the General’s face.

“It’s a sound plan, but I would still like to have some support for my offensive. The Aurorians are calling for increased orbital and air support and I have to agree with them on this.”

“I’ll see if I can divert a couple of cruisers to help,” Halsey said, trying not to show any emotion, knowing that he had succeeded.

“Thank you, Admiral. I look forward to that support you provide for us. It will help in freeing these lands from the Katanian Empire and bring us one step closer to victory.” The hologram was soon turned off as the General disconnected the call.

“Yes, indeed it will,” Halsey said to himself. He wondered, though, how the rest of the galaxy will deal with this, and what sort of surprises the Separatist or Republic may have in store for the Sector.

Year 13, Month 09, Day 06
Imperial Katanian Navy HQ
Tokyo, Imperial Katania


Admiral Yamamoto sat at his desk, looking over the reports from the Pacifica Region. He was glad to be here. He wished he was back out in the field, commanding his flagship Musashi, but he was glad it was better than the rumored Yokosuka Naval Base command. That position would be, "a nice safe demotion with a big house and no power at all." Instead, with the help of the influence of the Naval General Staff, he was now behind a desk, but he was far from useless. The comm unit on his desk began to buzz, and reaching over, he answered, “Yamamoto here.”

“Yamamoto, this is Nagano,” the voice answered. “I need you to meet with the rest of my staff in five minutes.”

“Yes, Admiral,” Yamamoto replied, surprised that the Head of the Imperial Katanian Navy General Staff would want to speak with him directly. “I will be there in right away.” He switched off the comm and grabbed his datapad and a couple of datacards, and began his walk toward the conference room. When he entered, he saw close to a dozen other flag officers, overlooking a map of the Pacifica Region of the Sector.

Yamamoto looked up at the holomap and the situation was not good. “Admiral Yamamoto,” Nagano said drawing everyone’s attention toward him. “It is good to have you here with us. Since you are the most recent arrival to the General Staff, perhaps you could give us your opinion on what we could do.”

Yamamoto cleared his throat. “Admirals, I will admit that my area of responsibility as Commander of the Combined Fleet, I was focused mainly on stopping the actions of Admiral Halsey as his forces moved up the Solomons and stopping our attempts at invading Auroran Space.”

Nagano nodded. “Very well, Yamamoto.” He turned toward another officer. “Admiral Hideo, could you please explain the current situation in the Region to Yamamoto for us, please?”

Rear Admiral Yano Hideo, the Head of Naval Intelligence, stepped forward and Changed the view of the map, shifting it to the Solomons. “Admiral, as I am sure you are aware, the Solomons have essentially been lost to the Americans. We have also received indications that the forces under General MacArthur are planning on renewing their offensive in New Guinea. However, there have also been indications that a fleet is gathering at Hawaii. We don’t know when they will attack, but we assess that it will be the force that drives into Central Pacifica in the next few weeks at the earliest.”

Hideo moved the map to a different location in the region. “As to the situation with Kunia, they have gradually been increasing their activity, trying to push us out of any areas that we take. The Kunian Communist Party has been very good at attacking our supply lines and causing problems for the Army, and hitting various targets. This has reduced some of the combat capability within that area. They blame our inability to prevent the regular shipments of supplies that are coming from Indou to Kunia as the source for these problems. It is because of this that they were able to gain the support of the droid command ship that arrived when the Confederates entered the sector. While they maintain that its commander will be independent of their command structure, they essentially have de facto control over the Defiler.”

Something that Tojo no doubt had a hand in, Yamamoto thought.

Admiral Hideo continued. “Their offensive started off with great success, but the Allies managed to regroup and stop them. The last reports we had were saying that the lines had stabilized and both appeared to be waiting for reinforcements.”

The map Changed again, this time focusing on the force disposition for the Katanian Navy. “For our forces, since the battle at Midway Outpost, and the defeat in the Solomons, we have remained on the defensive.” Yamamoto tried to hide a grimace at the mentioning at his two biggest defeats. “With two American fleets and an Albion fleet that is in Indou, we are limited in our capabilities. However, on a different note, we have managed to rebuild some of our naval forces. The latest group of pilots has finished training and are about to be attached to our light carrier group that was finished earlier this year. However, we will be unable to send them out into action until early next year. Existing formations are spread out trying to protect too much territory. We need to remain on the defensive and allow the Americans to come within our outposts so that we can wear them away until we can engage them in a decisive battle and force them into a peace that is favorable for us.”

“I have proposed that we divide the fleet into area commands, to allow for great autonomy for the area commanders, and allow us to rebuild what we can.” said Admiral Fukutome Shigeru, head of Naval Operations. “We do still have our Yamato-class battleships and other heavy cruisers to hold in reserve until the proper moment has come.”

Yamamoto thought about what he had been told. The situation for Katania was bleak at best. He knew that to divide the Combined Fleet into regional commands would only allow for the Americans to whittle away at them until all that was left was their battleships, and he knew how important carriers were to this kind of warfare. Unfortunately, he was a minority in this idea, and while there were others like him, the battleship commanders held too much influence.

“What of the Confederate ships that arrived within the sector?” Yamamoto asked. “They could prove useful in helping with possible offensive operations. Their droid fighters alone would be more than adequate in replacing our lost fighters until we have sufficient numbers.”

Admiral Nagano cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, Admiral Yamamoto, their experiences when they entered the sector has alienated them from us. They do not trust us in the Imperial Navy because they blame us for the destruction of their entire fleet. The fact that we managed to convince the Emperor to intervene on your behalf has soured relations between us and the Confederate captains. Granted, some of them do not hold you responsible for the ambush, and they do have respect for your command abilities, but the capital ship commanders would rather have seen you sent to Count Dooku and executed for incompetence.”

“The Imperial Army has used this to their advantage as well,” Admiral Shigeru said. “They have been requesting that the Confederate ships take part in operations on planets, and since they contain a least a couple hundred battle droids, many have not objected. The problem, is that Confederates fall outside of our chain-of-command, and we are unable to influence any decisions they may make. That droid control ship alone could hold back an entire task force, but instead, the Army has it. This has me worried.”

“Worried that the Imperial Army is gaining too much influence with our allies?” Yamamoto asked.

Shigeru nodded. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, especially for those who serve the Emperor as we do, but their fanaticism and influence on the other Confederate commanders could have repercussions for the Empire.

“Besides the control ship, what else does the Army have de facto control of?” Yamamoto asked.

Admiral Nagano answered before anyone else could. “None so far, but they are pushing for one of the Providence carrier/destroyers and support ships to help in holding the New Guinea system against General MacArthur.”

Admiral Yamamoto just takes a deep breath. He knew that the rivalry between the Imperial Navy and Army was tense, but this was beginning to look worse than anything that he could remember from Earth. With the Confederate ships falling under the influence, of the Army, they needed to work fast, and he had a feeling that this was going to be even more dangerous than fighting the Americans.

Chapter Text

Year 13, Month 09, Day 18
City of Kiev, Kiev System
Getov-Occupied Ukraina


Sergeant Reznov sat on the ground inside what he assumed to be a clothing store of some kind, his back against the remains of a wooden desk, staring at an enemy body that was leaning against a pile of debris. He thought really hard about shooting the Getov body again, but he refrained. He had killed the man a couple hours prior with his combat knife, but he was sure that the Hitlerite was playing possum or something.

Like many men in the regiment he was part of, he was a veteran of the struggles of Stalingrad, and he remembered how difficult that fight had been. This battle, for Kiev, was just as bad, with the army only managing to get into parts of the outer regions of the city, with the rest remaining in the hands of the Getov. So far, two divisions and three brigades, who of which were Ukrainan, had launched an attack to push the Getov out of Kiev and reclaim their city. However, the Getov were determined to hold back and create a Stalingrad for the Rarus to try and take, making every building a fortress and every street and killzone.

Sergeant Reznov ducked as a couple of mortar rounds exploded down the street, luckily, no one was in the blast zone. A fortunate event considering that earlier that day, three platoons had been lost to mortar fire. The Getov had turned the entire city into a series of fortresses, to try and find an alternate route would be difficult and time consuming.

Reznov raised his rifle, firing a couple of shots at some movement he thought he saw at a window a couple dozen meters down the road. He then ran down the street behind some cover. He knew that it was a good idea to never stay in the same place for too long.

After a few minutes, a rocket streaked from a close building and impacted close to where he had been a few moments before. Reznov couldn’t help but smile as the rest of his squad moved up the street, using the smoke from the blast as cover.

“Dimitri, get ready,” the Sergeant ordered. “They should be coming at any moment.”

Dimitri, a fellow veteran from Stalingrad, and a soldier that had become a close friend of Reznov’s, readied the repeating blaster near-by.

After a few seconds, over a dozen Ukrainan civilians running out of the building, followed by ten armed figures wearing the uniform of the Getov military. They loved using untermensch as human shields.

The repeating blaster fired, cutting down all the civilians and the Getov soldiers before they could get more than a few meters away from the building. Their orders were clear: Civilian hostages were not to deter the killing of the enemy. It still hurt though, especially since these people had suffered just as bad under the occupation of the Hitlerites. Reznov cleared his head of these thoughts and ordered the men to move up.

The squad had moved another block until they reached the ruins of an old restaurant A Getov repeating blaster went off, sending bolts in their direction, trying to cut them down. Reznov and the others took cover behind whatever they could find. Looking around the corner, he could see that where he was, was a good position to wait until the rest of the company moved up so they could take the restaurant. Looking across, he saw another squad moving up to join him. A bolt was fired and one of the men fell. The others took cover and began firing in the direction where the bolt had come from.

The Getov repeating blaster began to fire again, this time theirs returned fire. Using the firefight as cover, a fireteam moved up into the restaurant. There were several quick sounds of a blaster being fired and the team walked out with a Getov soldier being dragged behind them by the collar. One of the medics took this moment to look over the man who had fallen. He had taken a bolt to the chest and the medic shook his head. Reznov cursed, with the other Sergeant doing the same.

Reznov picked up one of the dead Getov soldier’s sub-repeating blaster. Despite the war having been going on for almost three years now, there was still a shortage of weapons, and he personally liked the Getov’s weaponry better than the Mosin-Nagant blaster rifle that he had been issued. He reached down and picked up a RP40 Sub-repeating blaster, and the extra powerpacks, placing a fresh pack into the blaster. As Reznov looked around the restaurant, checking the positions of both squads. Satisfied with what he saw, he motioned for the other sergeant to join him. “We’re going to hold here until the rest of the company reaches us. After that, we’ll get moved to the rear after our relief arrives.”

The sergeant nodded. He was younger than Reznov, but they shared the same look on each other’s face. “This is going to be a tough fight,” he said in a low voice, wanting to avoid the others from hearing. “I don’t know how many of us will make it through this fight, but I can ensure you that this will become something akin to Stalingrad if Command doesn’t move fast enough.”

Reznov shared those same thoughts, and he was curious as to what Command was thinking when they began this offensive into the city. “Have you heard anything about Teutonic Knights in Kiev?”

The other sergeant nodded. “I did. Word is that there’s a whole team of them helping with the fighting in the northern sector of the city. I heard that they are extremely difficult to kill, and that a few of them used to be Jedi.”

Reznov cursed. That was just terrific. That last thing he wanted to encounter a Getov Teutonic Knight. He heard of their abilities during the Battle of Stalingrad, and witnessed it a few times while he was a sniper in that city. Their abilities were incredible, and only extreme skill and luck would he be able to kill one. “Let’s hope that we don’t encounter one of them,” he said, placing a hand on the sergeant’s shoulder. “That’s the last thing that we need.”

Kharkiv, the Union of Ukraina Federated Worlds
The Rarus Federation


General Zhukov looked over the progress of the offensive to free Ukraina from the fascists, and could see that it had been slow going. The initial attack into the Kiev system had resulted in the loss of several escort ships and an infantry division as they stormed the planet. General Valutin had pushed through the defenses, and a breakthrough had been achieved on the surface. His message to Zhukov had been, “I will see you in Kiev, Comrade General.” The other commanders on the system had been able to complete their objectives with losses that had been light for both sides, but he knew that the fight for the heart of the system would be far more difficult.

A two weeks prior, they had launched another offensive on the surface of the planet this time to try and take specific regions of the planet, but they had encountered the two Panzer Corps and a couple of the Getov Teutonic Knights. He knew of their abilities but when he heard that two of them had managed to turn the tide of the battle, morale began to drop for the men and women in that sector, but the NKVD as used their usual tactics to ensure loyalty and continued the fight. The fight on Kiev was still up in the air, with both sides having the ability and men to continue the battle until one outdid the other. He still outnumbered the Hitlerites, but the resistance that they had encountered was fierce. Far more than what it had been on Earth. It was all because of that month that the Getov military had bought after Kursk to rearm and regroup. He was partially unsure if the victory would be as great as it was before.

“Comrade General,” a voice beside him said. Zhukov looked to see his adjutant with a datapad in his hand. “I have the latest reports from the Belya Rus.”

Zhukov took the datapad. “How are our forces doing there?”

The officer looked at the map of the Kiev system and then looked around to make sure that no one was listening. “It is going much better there than here, Comrade,” he said, nodding toward the display of the Kiev system. “We lost close to thirty percent of our forces in that system, but the Hitlerites have lost more than twice that. They continue to resist, however.”

The general looked down at the datapad to read some of the details of the operation. “It appears that they focused everything in the defense of Ukraina. Send a message to General Rokossovsky. Tell him to keep pushing forward with the liberation of Minsk. I will send reinforcements to him as soon as I am able, but to be wary of General Model. I am unsure of what he has planned but be ready for an attack from his forces.”

“Yes, Comrade,” the officer replied. “Is there anything else?”

He was quiet for a moment, deep in thought as he tried to see if there was anything else he could do. “No, that will be all.” As his adjutant left, Zhukov looked around the room and saw all of his staff working, relaying orders and ensuring essential military equipment went to where they were needed. He was feeling alive again, for the first time since the end of the Great Patriotic War on Earth, he was leading the armies of the Rodina to once again crush the fascists, but he was wary. The fighting was far more difficult than he wanted, and Stalin didn’t like slow progress. His demands were becoming more and more frequent, wanting the planets of Minsk and Kiev liberated by the end of the year and ready to begin another offensive within two months of the next year. He detested the man, the person who was responsible for putting the Rodina in the situation it was in because of the purges in the previous decades and the NKVD that was run by Beria, a man who was suspected of kidnapping young girls and later killing them.

Zhukov shook his head. Such thoughts were dangerous, especially with Stalin in power. He would need to be replace sooner rather than later, but it would have to be at a time where the Rarus people were no longer in a clear threat. It would have to be after the war, he thought.

“Patients,” he said to himself. “One fight at a time.”

Year 13, Month 9, Day 25
15th Army Group HQ
Naples, Roma, Kingdom of Noria


General Alexander read over the recent reports that were coming from the front. He had placed his headquarters as close to the fighting as possible, without worrying his staff and subordinates. At this time, he was moving to try and retake the city of Rome and provide a victory for not only the Allies, but for Noria as well. Their government was in desperate need of a victory, and they had been demanding that an offensive to retake the city be done as soon as possible.

Alexander pinched the bridge of his nose as he placed the datapad down, trying to relax his mind from the stresses of command. So far, he had managed to move up ad secure close to forty percent of the planet under Allied control, but his main objective, Rome, was behind a series of fortifications that both Norian fascists and Getov soldiers were calling the Gustav Line. It was proving to be just as difficult to overcome as the one back on Earth, but more so. His latest intelligence reports said that several Teutonic Knights have been taking part in attacks against Allied positions, and that just made the members of the Royal Norian Military even more determined to reclaim their capital.

There was a knock at Alexander’s door. “Come on,” he said.

Walking in was his adjutant. “General, Admiral Cunningham is on the line to speak with you.”

“Thank you.” He dismissed the officer and switched on his holoprojector. In the space above it was the Admiral.

“General Alexander, it is good to see you again. How goes the fighting on the ground?” he said, his face all serious.

“Not good, I’m afraid”

“I take it that our friends in the Norian government are being demanding in the liberation of Rome?”

Alexander nodded. “I am afraid so. Prime Minister Churchill has also been pushing for this as well. ‘To help in the securing of an important ally,’ is how he has been phrasing it. I know we need the support of the Norian government, and their people need to know that they can provide for them, but I’m afraid that they are asking for too much too soon. They want Rome to be liberated by the end of the year.”

Cunningham’s face furrowed in thought. “What do your commanders say about that timetable? Do they think it is possible?”

“Both General’s Clark and Rommel agree that it could be attained, but with a heavy loss of life. General Montgomery, on the other hand, is stating that his forces could force a breakthrough that would allow us to take Rome by Christmas.”

“What is your assessment of that claim, General?” the admiral asked.

“From the reconnaissance that we have been able to conduct, the Gustav Line seems to be the only line of defense between us and the capital. There are a few fortifications beyond it, but none of them appear to be as entrenched as the one in front of us. This line is made up of fortifications that blend in with the terrain. Each mountain appears to have its own base, and no doubt many of them are interconnected by tunnels. Turbolaser batteries, underground artillery, and shield generators are all across the Line.”

“How are the people defending the line?”

“We’ve conducted a series of raids over the past few weeks. The defenders, both Norian and Getov, are in high spirits and they claim that they are ready for any attack that we would through against them. I believe one Jerry said, ‘We will be the wall that the Allied waves crash upon’. Norian soldiers feel the same way so we can expect them to be highly motivated, especially since they see us as invaders.”

“What about the Teutonic Knights?”

Alexander hid a grimace. He had received reports that they were active in the area, but he had underestimated their capabilities. It wasn’t until he had seen the recordings of a battle where they ambushed a company of soldiers that he realized just how deadly they could be. “They are a game Changer. A single Knight could easily wipe out a platoon. From what MI6 has been able to provide, they appears to be around ten or so in this theater.”

“That explains why I have lost several flights of fighters and bombers the past few weeks then,” Cunningham said, rubbing his chin. “I thought it was just inexperienced pilots or luck, but this clarifies much.”

“Yes, it does, and the General Staff back home and Norian King want Rome taken before the year ends.” Alexander shakes his head in frustration. “Coming here, I wanted to avoid the mistakes from Earth, Monte Casino was a controversial action on my part, and I wasn’t able to take Rome until after the invasions.”

Cunningham’s face showed sympathy. “I understand how you feel about this, General, but we have our orders. Besides, you have two of the greatest generals under your command: Rommel and Montgomery.”

“Do you know what the surprising part of that is, Admiral? Rommel is actually calling for restraint on that matter.” Alexander saw surprise on the admiral’s face. “I know, I was shocked at that as well, but he explained that with the Teutonic Knights and the strength of the Gustav line, we needed to build up until we are able to breach the line and move toward Rome.”

“When does Rommel say we should attack?”

“He wants the fighting to start late next month. He explained that waiting until we were ready would allow us to take Rome early next year, but I’m unsure if the Norian government will agree to that, and Prime Minister Churchill may be inclined to agree with them on this. This theater has started to become more political than what I remember.”

“Is there anything I can do to help, General?”

Alexander smiled. “I thank you for the offer. What I would like for your forces to do is conduct a series of attacks all along the Gustav Line. Bombard them from space along key points and the supply lines. I’ll send you what coordinates we have. I want to save lives, and maybe your bombardments will keep Jerry’s head down and allow us to strike when the time comes. I know that some of my commanders won’t like receiving assistance from the Navy, but frankly, I don’t give a damn whether they like it or not.”

“Do you really believe that Churchill will make you fight through the Gustav Line anyway, despite what you and others say?”

Alexander was quiet for a moment, trying to pick his words carefully. “Admiral, the Prime Minister is a good leader, and it was because of him that we were able to hold off Jerry during the Blitz. That refusal to back down is as much a gift as a curse in my opinion. I think we need to be ready in the event that we have to proceed with the liberation of Rome. I know that some of my commanders will not like it, but they will perform their duty when asked.”

Year 13, Month 09, Day 31
USS Enterprise
Rabaul, New Guinea System


Fighters flew passed the fleet, protecting the vessels from Katanian fighters that managed to get passed the blockade. Admiral Halsey watched as they glided through space, and sight that still amazed him. Turning away from the fighters, he looked toward one of the moons. The invasions of the two moons orbiting the planet of Rabaul had been difficult, but after a couple of days of fighting, most of the bases had been secured.

“Admiral, Colonel Malcom from the first moon is reporting that most of the bases have been secured, however, there are still a few holdouts at some of the more isolated areas. They are going to focus on protecting the hypervelocity gun until reinforcements arrive. Colonel Riley is reporting the same thing, sir.”

“Thank you Lieutenant,” Halsey replied. The SeeBees had been able to bring the hypervelocity guns into the system and had them placed on the moons, pointing them toward the docking facilities that were in orbit over Rabaul, trapping them in orbit over the planet. Two of the cruisers had attempted to escape the planet, but a few shots from the hypervelocity gun had stopped the others from trying.

The rest of the operation had gone more or less according to plan. As the invasion force had arrived in the system, several raiders had been placed near the docks. When some of the ships attempted to move out, they were destroyed by numerous spreads of proton torpedoes. So far, the tally had been three enemy cruisers and five enemy destroyers wrecked. The others had varying degrees of damage from the raiders.

“What’s the status of the rest of the Katanian garrison on the planet and those in the docks?” Halsey asked.

An intelligence officer spoke up. “Sir, from information we have gathered from observing them on the surface, and what comms we have been able to intercept and decrypt, it seems that the garrison on the surface is preparing itself for an invasion and setting up defenses. They are trying to prepare their surface-to-orbit weaponry, but our strikes on those locations have rendered most of them inoperable. Also, our pickets in orbit have managed to reduce the number of fighters that attempt to harry us.”

Halsey nodded at the news. The operation had gone better than he had expected. He had lost several fighters and bombers, especially the strikes on Rabaul’s anti-orbital systems, but it had been light considering how things will no doubt go on New Guinea. “What about the Katanian ships that are deeper within the system?”

“Right now they seems to be unsure on what to do,” the intel officer responded. “They are stuck between our forces and those that fall under the command of General MacArthur, but I don’t think that will last very long.”

“Have our fighters move in to provide support for the ground forces on New Guinea. I want to have as little loss of life for our troops and allies on the surface.”

Lieutenant Richard Pierce and the rest of his squadron were getting ready for another combat mission. He didn’t know how many he had been on, but it had been a lot. His squadron was assigned to escort a squadron of strike craft to the surface of New Guinea and provide support to the Allied attack on Katanian forces.

After doing their pre-flight checks, the fighters, one after another, launched from the hangar and took positions around the carrier to formed up to protect the strike craft from Katanian fighters from the planet or the base that they had isolated. While the number of attempts had dropped dramatically since the invasion began, the Katanians still sent fights out to strike against the American fleet.

“All craft report in,” Lieutenant Pierce called in.

“Cowboy Three: Standing by.”

“Cowboy Six: Standing by.”

“Cowboy Five: Standing by.”

“Cowboy Two: Standing by.”

“Cowboy Seven: Standing by.”

One by one, the rest of his squadron called in, giving their current status. “This is Cowboy Leader, all craft have reported in and are ready for combat,” Lieutenant Pierce reported.

“Copy that,” Fighter Control replied. “Stand by for strike craft to be launched.”

“Roger, Control. We are standing by.” After fifteen minutes, the strike craft were launched from the carrier and both squadrons were joined by others from the three accompanying carriers and began their flight toward the planet New Guinea.

The journey was uneventful, but that didn’t prevent Lieutenant Pierce from being alert to events that were happening on the planet. He could hear some of the comms from the fighting for air superiority over the planet. As they came closer, he could get a clearer picture of what was happening, but he soon switched the frequency to the squadron and focused on the task at hand. It was his job to ensure that the strike craft made it through to their objective. He had seen the hulks of destroyed vessels drift in throughout the system, some of them were still showing the plasma fires from breached power cores. In the distance, the flashes of laser bolts and explosions could be seen as the fleet of the Allies pushed against the Katanian defense fleet.

When the formations entered the atmosphere, Pierce kept an eye on the sensors, keeping the inertial dampeners at 80% to keep a good feel on his craft. He knew the Katanian military was still very strong on the surface of the planet, and he didn’t want to be caught unawares. He knew that he had entered enemy territory when the air was filled with explosions and bolts from the Katanian forces below. Missiles flew toward them, and Pierce pulled the stick to avoid them.

“Cowboy Leader, We have fighters coming in from twelve o’clock high,” his wingman reported.

Shit. They must have used debris as a way to cover their approach. He looked at his sensors and then out through his canopy. “I see them,” he replied. He switched to the squadron’s frequency. “We’ve got incoming bandits. Engage at will, but remember we are here to protect the strike craft. Not to gain glory. We have to ensure that they make it to their targets.” Lieutenant Pierce recognized the fighters as the infamous “Zero” that was so dreaded by the Allies. Their status of a good dogfighter was well known, heavily armed and maneuverable, but had the reputation of being lightly armored.

Pierce and his wingman pulled up to face the Zeroes, increasing speed, and firing their laser cannons from their fighters as they came into range. He could see several of the Katanian fighters break off to engage other fighters from his squadron, but the two he was facing continued to press forward, firing their own cannons. He felt his fighter shake from the blasts as they hit his shields, and risked a quick glance at his instruments. The shields were down slightly but they continued forward. Holding down the trigger on the stick, he fired another series of bolts at the Zero. After it received several hits, its shields collapsed and the fighter exploded, followed shortly by its wingman.

Pierce leveled his fighter and glanced at his sensors, looking for another target. There were plenty to choose from. He flips his fighter and dives for the deck, coming on the six o’clock of another Zero. He could tell the pilot was experienced, and tried to turn away to pull him into a turning fight, but Pierce was experienced as well, and pulled his fighter up, flipping his P-40 onto his back as he kept an eye on the Zero. As the enemy fighter leveled off, he dived again, placing himself on its six o’clock again and firing several bolts. The Zero disappeared in a brilliant explosion.

Pierce looked around to search for more targets, but the air was clear and called for his squadron to form up and return to the strike craft. As they were reforming, he saw that he had lost four fighters to the Katanian craft. The strike craft had lost several as well as some pilots had been too aggressive and gone to chase after the enemy craft. He and his squadron encountered two more attempts by the Katanian military to stop them, but each time, they were driven back, but with a fewer craft than before. The strike craft and their escorts reached their target: a series of supply depots that were providing arms and equipment to that sector of the planet. As Pierce provided over watch for them, he took a closer look at the terrain of the planet. It was a thick jungle with hilly and sometimes mountainous terrain, with weather that accompanied tropical conditions.

A large explosion erupted in the distance and was soon followed by more closer to his location. He knew that General MacArthur was conducting an offensive in this area of the planet, but the good general had assumed that Katanian resistance would be light. From everything that Pierce had seen in the air, he could tell that it was the exact opposite. He had a feeling that the liberation of New Guinea would be far more difficult than originally believed, and he felt sorry for those who were having to fight on the ground against an entrenched and motivated enemy.

Chapter Text

Year 13, Month 10, Day 15
City of Kiev
Kiev System, the Union of Ukraina Federated Worlds
The Rarus Federation


Senior Sergeant Nikolai Sokolov stood up from behind the pile of rubble that he was using as cover and fired a quick burst from his PPSh at the Getov soldiers. Ducking back down before he could tell if he hit anyone, he turned toward a private who was working on his comm unit. “Can you raise command?”

The private switched several dials and flipped switches before he answered with a shake of his head. “Nothing, Comrade. We’re still being jammed.”

“Damnit,” the sergeant muttered. The area he was in was supposed to be secure from Getov soldiers, but somehow, this group that he was facing had managed to get behind their lines and attack one of the supply dumps. He waved for another private, this one carrying a Mosin-Nagant blaster rifle, to join him.

The private, squatting low and moving from cover to cover reach Sokolov. “Yes, comrade sergeant?”

“See if you can find a speeder that still works and get a message to Command.” An explosion boomed a few meter from their location. “Tell them that SS commandos have come behind our lines and are attacking us in Grid Blue Seven.”

“Yes, Comrade,” the private said. “I’ll need some covering fire.”

“You’ll get it.” Sokolov yelled out to those who could hear him, “Covering fire!” Several men rose from what protection they had and fired in the direction that the Getov SS were coming from. Sokolov glanced back to see the private move back and disappear as he lost sight of him.

“This is a fine way to die, don’t you think, Comrade?” the private with the useless comm unit said as he placed it beside him, a grim smile on his face. He checked the powerpack for his rifle and replaced it with a new one.

“Now that you mentioned it… no,” Sokolov replied dryly. He peeked over the rubble to see the commandos begin to fall back. “What the hell? Private, do you see what I see?”

The private looked over the rubble and blinked several times. “Why are they pulling back?”

“I do not know.” The Sergeant heard something in the air; a faint whining sound. He couldn’t tell where it was coming from, the ruins making sounds echo all around them.

“Sergeant, do you hear that?” a corporal across the street from him yelled out. “It sounds like a speeder is coming toward us.”

The Sergeant cocked his head to the side to try and hear it better. It could be help coming their way, but something in his gut was telling him different. It sounded as though it was coming from the other direction, but he couldn’t be sure. He wasn’t going to take any chances. He didn’t survive Stalingrad by ignoring his instincts. “Everyone, get ready. I don’t know who this may be, but I’m not leaving it to chance that it’s more fascists.”

The men around him took cover behind whatever they could find, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from. One soldier, a female who had one of the few working macrobinoculars, looked down the road that the SS commands had been before when she shoulted, “Speeder bike coming in!” Sergeant Sokolov ran up to her, who handed him the macrobinoculars. “One man on a bike, coming at us a full speed.”

Who is this person? As the bike came closer, he could make out armor that was black. A white cloak or cape billowing in the wind, and a red cross on the chest. “Shit!” he said. “We have a Knight coming toward us!” The other Rarus soldiers ran toward his position, and those with Mosin-Nagant rifles began firing at long range, trying to hit the Knight. The bolts missed every time and as it came closer, and other weapons began to fire.

The Teutonic Knight turned toward a pile of rubble, and using it as a ramp, soared into the air, bolts following its path, and trying to shoot it out of the air. As it flew over the Rarus soldiers’ position, the Knight leaped off the bike and dived toward the ground, a recognizable snap-hiss reverberating through the air. Before he reached the ground, he used the Force to soften his landing, and unleashed a massive Force wave tate expanded around him, throwing everything within the blast several meters away.

Sergeant Sokolov woke up, his head feeling like he was suffering from the worst hangover in the galaxy. He tried to move, but everything felt slow. He suddenly felt himself being lifted up out of the rubble, but he couldn’t feel the ground under him. His vision was still blurry, but he could see someone in front of him, black with a white outline, and a staff of blue in his hand. He heard voices, faint and in the distance, and it took him several seconds for his brain to process the language. It was Getov.

“Looks like he’s coming to,” one of the Getov commandos said.

“He is,” the Knight said casually. “He’s the only one that survived the blast. I’m surprised, actually.”

“What do you want done to him?” a soldier asked.

The Knight took a step closer to Sokolov, who was trying to regain the use of his limbs. He wanted to say something. To curse them, to yell, to do something, but he felt as if the rest of his body wasn’t working. Raising his lightsaber, the Knight slashed his blade through the Rarus soldier, dropping it on the ground.

The other Getov soldier were quiet for a few moments before one of them asked, “What about the one that was heading back to Rarus command post?”

The Knight turned toward him, deactivating his lightsaber and attaching it to his belt. “The other will be ensuring that he doesn’t make it there. I assure you.”

***

City of Kiev
Rarus-liberated Ukrania


General Konev felt his transport jerk as it hit a rough patch of air. The fight for Kiev had been very difficult, with many formations having losses over fifty percent. The massive Rarus bombardment, followed by an attack by 1st Ukrania Front to take the city had been unable to dislodge their outer perimeter, and had to slog through numerous lines of defenses before they could reach the outskirts of the city itself.

General Valutin’s army had been the first to enter the city, but as the final defensive lines were being breached, two Panzer groups under the orders of Field Marshal Manstein, came around the city in an attempt to hit Valutin’s forces in a pincer movement, and the resulting battle had caused several formations to become overrun on both sides of the his column. However, several regiments had been able to form a quick defense and slowed down the attacks enough to where his reserves could be brought in. Many considered the battle for the city of Kiev to be one of the largest land battles on the planet, with hundreds of tanks, transports, and thousands of soldiers fighting. It hadn’t been until recently that the fighting had stopped, and that was only because the weather had turned the terrain into an unfavorable soup of mud, water, and God knew what else.

“Comrade General, we’ll be landing in a few minutes,” the pilot announced over the PA system. Konev hid a grimace. Going from orbit to surface was an experience that was always bumpy and he would be happy to be back on solid ground again. After several more jolts, the transport landed and everyone inside unbuckled their harnesses.

Stepping off the transport and placing his cover on his head, Konev and a couple of soldiers to act as an escort walked across the landing zone. As walked toward the greeting party, he looked around, he could see several Red Army soldiers standing guard. The party was made up for three men, a captain and two enlisted: a sergeant and a corporal, and as they approach, the three quickly saluted which was returned briskly by Konev.

“Comrade Genera Konevl, welcome to Kiev,” the captain said. “I and these two men are here to take you to General Valutin’s Headquarters. If you will follow me, please.”

As the group entered the speeder, Konev managed to see just how much damage the city had sustained for its liberation. There were the familiar sights, ones that he had seen on Earth on the march from Moscow to Berlin, but it was on a scale that was far larger than anything he had imagined possible. The once great city of Kiev, was now a bombed out skeleton of its former self. Where there had once been towering skyscrapers, stood only toppled buildings, some of them destroyed by orbital bombardment by both sides of the battle. He could see the remains of vehicles on the ground and in the buildings, both Rarus and Getov, and he saw the men and women who had fought in this month-long battle for the city. As they drove down one street, he saw a line of prisoners being escorted to the back of the lines, all of them dirty and ragged, the look of defeat on their faces as they knew there was nothing they could do. Konev knew what would happen to them and he didn’t feel sorry in the slightest.

There was one aspect of this battle that he remembered very well from Earth. The smell was the same. The smell of smoke, dust, filth, and death. He would have thought that technology as advanced as the speeder he was sitting in would be able to filter out the smell, but it seemed that some things were still pure fantasy. When the sound of blaster fire was heard a few blocks from their location, he asked the driver, “What’s the situation in the city?”

The officer looked back at the General, as if unsure on what to tell him, but answered. “There are a few pockets of resistance around the city, Comrade, but there are preparations to remove them within the next couple of days.”

Konev nodded his head slightly in thanks and turned to survey the damage. He started to think about the costs of rebuilding everything that had been destroyed here, occupying, and ensuring the people were loyal. Memories of the Hungarian Uprising came to mind when he thought of that, and how he had been sent in to stop them. He would do it again as well to ensure the Rodina was safe. His thoughts were interrupted when the speeder began to slow down. Looking outside, Konev could see a couple of Red Army gunships escorting them. He was glad to see that General Valutin was taking the necessary precautions, and the gunships were a welcome sight, especially with how the Getov military was fighting. He didn’t want to be another statistic in this war.

When the door opened, he could see General Valutin himself, with several soldiers as bodyguards there to welcome him to the city. As Konev approached, the junior officers and enlisted saluted with Konev returning them quickly. “Comrade General Valutin,” Konev said.

“Comrade General Konev,” Valutin returned. “Welcome to the newly liberated city of Kiev. Would you please follow me?” The general lead them to his command headquarters, a former government building that was surrounded by several anti-air batteries and several tanks and soldiers behind hardened emplacements. When they entered the building, Konev could see several men and women working on their assigned tasks. Some of them at desks while others were around the various holomaps of the planet, planning for new operations against the Getov military.

They continued to walk until they reached the war room. In the middle was a holomap showing the city and the various pockets that were still active. “We still have three more pockets of resistance in the city, but they become smaller with each passing day. I expect the last of them to surrender within seven days,” Valutin said confidently.

“That’s good to hear, Comrade,” Konev said, looking at the map. “Have you encountered any of the Teutonic Knights in the city? I’ve heard that there were a few within the system.”

Valutin shakes his head. “We’ve received reports of them on the planet, but none of them have been in the city as far as Intelligence has been able to tell. They believe that they are outside of the city and preparing for the inevitable counter-offensive the Hitlerites will send.”

That seems likely, Konev thought. His forces had encountered a couple of them in space, but they had usually disappeared before his forces could react. He was about to ask another question when an orderly walked up to Valutin and handed him a datapad. As Valutin read it, Konev could see his face furrow. “Something wrong, Comrade General?”

General Valutin gave him a questioning look, but answered, “It seems as if one of our supply craft is approaching the building but is refusing to respond to any of our hails, Comrade. I’m sending a couple of our fighters toward it for intercept.”

Both generals turned their attention toward the holomap to see the transport and the fighters meet up, and after several seconds of the fighters flying alongside the transport. The comm was tuned in on that of the fighter and were able to hear the status reports from the pilots. “Control, this is Steel Four. Transport has a damaged comm unit. The transports transponder does match a supply ships that was to arrive thirty minutes ago.”

There was silence on the frequency, most likely the air control officer asking his superior on what to do. After several seconds of silence, there was a response. “This is Control, copy that that. Proceed to escort transport in to supply LZ.”

“Roger, Control. Escorting transport.”

Valutin nodded. “Many of our vehicles and transports have faulty comm units, Comrade” he explained. “We’ve had several instances of transposrts and even fighters losing comms throughout the planet. Several vehicles have been destroyed because of it, but we’re finding ways to overcome those problems.”

Konev nodded in agreement. “Yes, many of my forces have encountered this problem as well. Most likely it is a problem back in the manufacturing plant than operator error.”

Valutin was about to say something when the comm came alive. “Steel Flight, this is Control, return to assigned course.” There was silence on the line. “Steel Flight, this is Control, you are deviating from the assigned flightpath, please return to that course immediately.” Several more seconds went by before Control against said, “Steel Flight, return your set course or we will fire upon you.”

Silence followed until an eerily calm voice answered, “We do not listen to the orders of untermensch.” The two fighters then broke away and began to fire upon the building. Generals Valutin and Konev looked around as dust fell from the ceiling and the sounds of laser bolts impacting the building.

“Someone shoot those craft out of the sky before—” the sentence was cut off when through the entrance, everyone could see the transport coming in at full speed. It had scorch marks all over its hull and didn’t show any indication of slowing down.

“Everyone down!” someone yelled, and the transport soon crashed through the entrance. Parts of it were ripped off as it flew through the structure, crashing onto the ground and skidding, losing more components and a loud screeching sound as durasteel grinded against the ground. Columns that stood at the entrance broke as the vessel made its way closer to where Valutin and Konev were. Sparks began to fly from the craft as it began to slow down and soon, the transport slid to a stop, a large dust cloud enveloping the entire structure.

Konev struggled to get up. He felt dizzy and his hearing was like it was muffled. He placed a hand on his head and was surprised to see blood on it when he pulled it down. It didn’t look like much and his headache was beginning to ease. Soon, his hearing began to return and he could hear the sounds of people yelling. Some of them in pain while others were trying to find friends and co-workers. “Valutin!” he shouted. “Where are you?” The dust was thick and it was difficult to see through, but eventually, he was able to run into a couple of Rarus soldiers. Konev recognized them as the two enlisted who had greeted him at the spaceport. “Sergeant, have you seen General Valutin?”

“I’m here, Comrade,” the general said, coming out of the dust. “The damn fascists crashed a transport to try and kill us. It looks like they failed.” They looked where the transport had landed and the dust was beginning to settle. Several other army personnel were around the transport, some of them carrying rifles while most others only had their sidearms. One of the hatches opened and many of the soldiers took cover, ready for something to happen. Both generals had their blasters at the ready as two soldiers entered the transport. They heard the sounds of blasters being fired and a body flew out of the hatch and impacted a wreckage of a pillar. Out of the transport, walked a single man. He was wearing black armor with red crosses on his shoulders and chest, a glowing blue blade in its hand.

“Knight!” someone yelled, and everyone in the room fired their blasters. Both generals joined in barrage, but the knight easily deflected all of the bolts away from himself. A part of the hull flew off from the top of the vessel, landing near to where Konev and Valutin were. Another Knight leaped into the air, a snap-hiss reverberating through the room as a green blade shined. Other Rarus soldiers aimed with the blasters and fired, but were unsuccessful in their attempts to hit him. Soon, soldiers with the markings of the Getov SS began to exit the transport through the main entrance and the hole in the hull.

“Someone call one of the regiments to get themselves immediately!” Valutin demanded.

“Our comms are jammed, Comrade,” an officer answered. “But since a transport crashed into this headquarters, I doubt we will have to wait long.”

Konev figured that there was about thirty Getov soldiers that were in the HQ, with about fifty Rarus personnel. The problem was that most of the Rarus soldiers were clerks or couriers and only a few of them had actual combat experience and the weapons for the kind of fighting. He saw a couple of men try to rush the Knight, firing their blasters in an attempt to kill him. One was shot only a few feet from where he had started, but the other was lucky. He managed to come within a few meters when he was pulled toward the Knight and in a single slash, was cut in half. The Knight shouted in Getov, with the other Knight and most of the other commandos began to sweep through the debris and killing who they could find and driving others away. Konev suspect that they were moving forward to hold at the entrance of the building.

“We need to get out of here, Comrades,” someone shouted over the firefight. It was the sergeant that had escorted them earlier. He was taking careful shots with his rifle and picking off Getov soldiers who were leaving themselves exposed. “If we don’t, those Knights will kill us for sure.”

“Is there any chance that help will be arriving, soon Reznov,” a private asked. “or are we on our own once again?”

Reznov fired another bolt. “It seems that the fascists want to stop any help from coming. It’s like Stalingrad once again, Dimitri.”

Dimitri fired a burst from his PPSh. “We didn’t face any Knights in that fight though, comrade.”

Valutin fired his blaster. “We have to hold them off long enough for reinforcements to arrive. Everyone fire on the Knight!” The soldiers that could hear him give the ordered, fired at the Teutonic Knight, but each bolt was deflected by his lightsaber. Most flying off away from the fighting but others were deflected toward the source. A thermal detonator was thrown at a couple of Getov commandos who were trying to come closer to the debris that was being used as cover. One of them was killed but the others dived for cover. Soon, soldiers began to fire at the commandos. The Knight, deflected a couple of bolts and thrusted his hand forward. A Force wave flew from his hand and the debris was blown away like paper.

Konev shook his head. His vision was blurry and his head was ringing. I’m getting tired of this… he thought. He looked to his left to see General Valutin, trying to crawl away, but the general was pulled back and began to float in the air. Konev turned his head to see the Knight, his hand in the air and holding Valutin up with the Force.

“General Valutin, I presume?” the Knight said in accented Russian. “I must say that you are far more difficult to kill than originally thought.” He turned to look at Konev. “And General Konev. I am surprised that you are here as well, but it is an added bonus to kill two of the Rarus Federation’s greatest commanders.” One of the SS commandos walks up to the Knight and says something in Getov. The Knight motions for the rest of the commandos to leave them. “It seems as though your comrades are attempting to rescue everyone here. Too bad that it will not happen. My fellow commandos will die, but myself and my apprentice will escape.” In a single movement, the Knight’s lightsaber sliced through Valutin, the lower half of his body falling to the ground while the rest still floated in the air. Dropping the body, he turned his attention to Konev.

“You won’t win,” Konev said, his voice hoarse. “Getov will fall and the Red Army will march through the streets of Berlin, occupied by those who are victorious in this war.”

The knight raised his hand, and Konev began to levitate. He could see a bemused look on the Knight’s face. “Do you really believe that nonsense? We’ll push you back and will keep the Western Allies from invading. We know what will happen. We have the Force on our side, and there is nothing that your leaders can do to stop us. We will—”

His sentence was cut short with a grunt. The knight looked down to see a vibroblade sticking through his armor. He dropped Konev who managed to see Dimitri lift up the Knight’s helmet enough to expose his neck, and slid a knife across it. Blood began to pour, and the knight fell to his knees and then onto his side. Konev could see Sergeant Reznov, his rifle in his hand with the bayonet attached.

“Dimitri, check on the General, I’ll see the rest of the men,” the sergeant said. As he did, he could see that most had been stunned, and most had their weapons. He could hear the fighting beginning to pick up outside of the building and knew it would be a difficult fight for those on the outside.

“Comrades, come to me,” Reznov said in a booming tone. Several of the soldiers who had been knock unconscious or hiding came out. “Today, the fascists killed Comrade General Valutin the man who has led us since our victory at Stalingrad. A man who never let the Getov rest. They feared the man so much, they sent Teutonic Knights to kill him. The Getov thought that they could do so without consequences, but they are wrong. Do not let his death be an ending, but let it be the beginning of the end for the fascists.” He lifted his rifle and began to walk toward where the fighting was. “We will show them our strength…we will show them our will…we will show them the might of the Rarus people!”

“URA!” the men around him shouted, and Reznov led the charge.

Year 13, Month 10, Day 26
The Senate Building
Coruscant, the Galactic Republic


Senator Bail Organa, was sitting in another session of the Galactic Senate, hearing the situation of the war throughout the rest of the galaxy. At the moment, Senator Roosevelt was giving a passionate speech on the recent efforts of the Allies in the Terran Sector, and he had admit that the Senator had great oratory skills and had a way of making you want to listen to him. He listened intently, as did many of the other Senators in the chamber, until it was finally over. Roosevelt received a round of applause from everyone in the chamber, and a nod of acknowledgement from Chancellor Palpatine.

“Thank you, Senator,” Chancellor Palpatine said, a small smile on his face. “It is good to know that the Allied Powers of the Terran Sector are making progress in their efforts to stop those of the Axis from making it a Separatist foothold in the Mid Rim. Send the brave men and women fighting my thanks, and let them know that the rest of the galaxy has not forgotten about them.”

Bail could see Roosevelt nod. “Thank you, Chancellor, I am sure it will lift their spirits.” The Senator then took as seat as his box floated away and back to its dock.

The session for the Senate continued for a few more hours, covering the many difficulties that the Republic was facing in the war, but also covered some of the success that the Grand Army of the Republic had managed to gain. The defeat of the InterGalactic Banking Clan at Muunilinst and the seizing of those facilities had been a large boost to the morale of the Republic, removing one large shipbuilding facility from Separatist control. However, these early victories had made many think that the Republic could win this war quickly. It had been seven months since the Battle at Geonosis, and it didn’t take long to show that the Republic could not go on the offensive at this time until they had built up their military capabilities. There had been incidents where several hyperspace hubs had been seized or sided with the Separatist cause, with the biggest one being the loss of Yag’dull and the following loss of Fondor with their shipyards. Everyone knew that this was going to be a long and bloody conflict. Before everyone was adjourned, Chancellor Palpatine took that moment to give a small speech. He made promises to try and find a diplomatic way to end this conflict and bring the Separatists back into the Republic, to prevent the loss of more systems, and ensure the security of the galaxy after the war was over.

As everyone was leaving, Bail was greeted by Senator Roosevelt, who gave him and nod of acknowledgement as they walked to the new committee room they were a part of. “That was a fine speech you gave, Senator Roosevelt.”

“Thank you, Senator Organa,” he replied. “I have a great speech writer.” The two of them continued to their compartment, ahead of them they could see three more senators moving to the same room. “Do you suppose there is time for me to smoke?”

Bail gave Franklin a funny look. “I don’t know why you smoke those things. I’ve heard that they are terrible for you.” He knew better than to argue the point with the man, however. “We have a few minutes. It should be enough time for you.”

“Sounds excellent then.” Franklin reached into his pocket and pulled out his holster and a case of cigarettes. “You are welcome to join me if you wish,” he said as they stepped outside onto one of the balconies that the Senate building housed. He struck his lighter and began to take a few puffs as he took in the sight of the Coruscanti skyline.

There was silence between the two of them for several moments before Bail spoke. “How is your wife enjoying the planet? I take it that her journey here was uneventful?”

Roosevelt nodded. “Yes, she is quite happy to be with me again, and she is enjoying being on Coruscant.” He didn’t add that seeing his wife was something that he had wanted dearly since coming to the galaxy. The saying that behind every great man, there is a strong woman fit her very well. “She has been very supportive of the Republic and those who are trying to end the war. She especially admires Senator Amidala.”

“Yes, she is a very driven woman, and highly respected and hated by many,” Bail said in agreement. “Your wife seems just a politically astute as you. I wonder what it would be like if she decided to become a politician.” He smiled slightly. “I think that you should invite her to dinner with myself and my wife. I’m sure all of us would enjoy something that doesn’t have to do with work. I know of a restaurant that I think your wife will enjoy.”

Franklin chuckled. “Thank you. My wife and I would be honored.” He took one last drag from his cigarette and placed it in the dispenser. “We should head back in. We don’t want the other Senators to do something stupid now do we?” he asked with a smile.

Bail laughed. “Yes, let us ensure that we do not lose the war in only a few minutes.” They both walked back into the Senate building and made their way to the chamber for their assigned committee. When they entered, they could see three other Senators there waiting for them.

“Good to see that the two of you didn’t get lost on your way here,” said one. Roosevelt recognized the being as Senator Aang, who represented Roona. “We were almost about to begin.”

“I needed some fresh air to help clear my head after being in the Senate chamber for so long,” Roosevelt said. He had worked in the Senate long enough to know that the Roonan was very particular and had the tendency of misinterpreting mistakes as insults. Aang was very influential on the committee, who was said to have one of the most influential votes. Roosevelt had made an effort to stay on the Senator’s good side, while also helping in the creation of another power bloc on the committee. He, Senator Organa, and Senator Mon Mothma had created a small but influential group, and would not doubt be useful in the coming votes.

“Well, please take a seat. We are about to begin to look over the reports of the progress of the war. I am sure that your experience in conflict in your sector will be able to assist us in interpreting these reports?” Aang asked.

Roosevelt took his seat. There were close to twenty Senators on the committee but he paid them no mind, focusing on Aang. “While I do not deny that my home sector is prone to conflict far more than most of the galaxy, I must also point out that we will be providing support to the Republic when the Sector has been secured from Separatist incursions.”

“I suggest that we focus on these reports,” Senator Mon Mothma said, preventing Aang from responding. “The war is young but much has happened, and it is our duty to ensure that the Republic fights this war properly. Now shall we begin?”

"Of course, Senator,” said a male Twi’lek. “I believe the first order of business that we need to cover is the loss of so many hyperspace junctions to the Separatists. This strategy that they have been conducting will cut us off from the rest of the galaxy until we are isolated. The loss of Yag’dull especially, since it has taken the Corellian Trade Spine from the Colonies to the Outer Rim away from us. We are only fortunate that they haven’t pushed further and taken Duro from us.”

“Is there any way to convince the Corellians to join us in the war?” Roosevelt asked. He knew that the Corellians had a powerful defense force under their command, but Senator Bel Iblis had declared that the entire Corellian Sector would remain neutral in the conflict and called for a diplomatic solution.

“I’ve tried speaking with Senator Bel Iblis but he refuses to take part in the war,” Organa explained. “He knows that the steps that his system has taken are unpopular, but he refuses to budge, and the leadership of the Coreallian System agree.”

“What about the preparations we are making to ensure that the cloning facilities on Kamino remain secure?” Aang asked. “The attack the Separatists did on the system almost cost us the war.” In the early months of the war, the Separatists attacked and threatened to take the cloning facilities on the planet Kamino, the only source of Clone Troopers for the Republic. It had been fortunate that the Jedi had managed to find those plans before the attack had begun, and had given the Republic enough time to prepare a fleet to defend the planet.

“We are setting up more cloning facilities on other planets,” Senator Halle Burtoni answered. “It will take some time for these new facilities to be set up and up to full production. Until then, Kamino will still be the main cloning facility.”

“How long will it be before the rest of the facilities are ready?” Senator Aang asked. “We need those clones.”

Senator Burtoni was quiet for a few seconds before she answered. “Most of the facilities will be operational by the end of next month. We’ve been building as many as we could since the attack, but to reach the production levels that we had on my planet, it will be a year at least.”

There were murmurings throughout the rest of the committee before Roosevelt took that moment to speak. “We need to try and hold out until then,” he said calmly. “We have to be careful with those that we have already and not use them wastefully. I know that many want to throw them into the fight since they are far better than battle droids, but these are living beings and they deserve the right to be treated as such.”

“And what do you propose until then? With the numbers of droids the Separatists have, they don’t have to worry about limited numbers.” Aang asked reproachfully.

“Many of the systems within the Republic maintain their own military forces, some of them as good, if not better, than our own Judicial Forces. The Republic can use them to help hold what key systems we need and use the clones as a quick reaction force,” Senator Mon Mothma explained. “Like Senator Roosevelt said before, we need to stay on the defensive until we have built up enough to take the fight to the Separatists.”

“I’ve read the reports of the GAR military build-up plan, and from what it says, we would need at least a year to mobilize our industry to wartime production,” Senator Organa explained. “Until then we will stay on the defensive and ensure that no more systems side with the Separatists. Thankfully, we have Senator Amidala to thank for that. Her missions to the various systems of the Outer Rim have proven helpful. Rodia is just one example of how important it is to show those systems that we have not forgotten them.”

“I can attest to that,” said Senator Onaconda Farr. “It is because of her and the aid that you have delivered to my planet that ensured we would not be set aside in this war. While the situation is still difficult for those of us in the Outer Rim, knowing that the Republic still cares for us is something that many take comfort in.

Roosevelt nodded. Seeing the vast refugee crisis that this war was causing was placing a strain on the limited resources that the Republic had. From the building up of a military to purchasing clones from the Kaminoans, the economy was being stretched.

“And what about this new droid general that we have been receiving reports about?” Senator Meena Tills of Mon Calamari asked. “From the reports that we have received from the Jedi, this General Grevious has been able to hold off four Jedi in combat and wiped out an entire clone army in Hypori System.” She took a deep breath. “This kind of commander is different from the others. He knows what he is doing and is able to use droids to great effect.”

“What sort of information do we know about him?” Organa asked.

“From what the Jedi and Chancellor have been able to find out… Not much,” Roosevelt replied. “What we do know is that he is trying to set up a decentralized structure.” He could see how this would cause all sorts of problems for the Republic. “With no established capital or homeworld, the Separatists are able to fight us on their terms and since we are not able to defend everywhere, they will be able to choose their battles and strike us where we are not. Like I and others have already said, we need to hold the line. Protect those that we can and ensure that others are able to continue the fight even after we are gone.”

“That could prove difficult with the new bioweapons that the Separatists are developing,” Aang said. “You’ve read the same reports as the rest of us. Their Swamp Gas that was unleashed on Naboo’s moon killed everyone there, and then there was that mad scientist who genetically modified the Blue Shadow Virus. It was only with the help of the Jedi that both of those were stopped before they could be unleashed on the galaxy as a whole.”

Roosevelt remembered reading those reports, and he still felt a chill down his spine. Seeing the images of what those bioweapons did were too much like what happened in World War I. “We need ways of countering these sorts of situations,” he said. “We must inform the public and give them the necessary information to survive such attacks. It may cause some panic among the populous, but letting them know of the possibilities would be better than us hiding it from them.”

“We don’t have the resources to prepare every possible target that the Separatists have for their bioweapons,” Mon Mothma explained. “Informing them of the situation but not providing them the mean to protecting themselves?”

Roosevelt was ready for this, even though he knew that others won’t like what he was about to suggest. “There are countless numbers of rebreathers that are sitting in warehouses across the Republic that are not being used. I suggest that we pass them out to everyone that we can until we can bring out vaccines and cures for the Separatists’ bioweapons.”

Many looked at Roosevelt with surprise or admiration. “You are suggesting that we give the people false hope to prevent a panic?” Mon Mothma asked. “What will they do when they are killed because the rebreathers don’t protect them from the viruses?”

Roosevelt took a deep breath before he answered. “I’m sure they will have already figured it out, but the peace of mind is something they will accept because they want to.” He grabbed a glass and took a sip of water from it. “I don’t like this, but in war, you sometimes have to do things that you don’t agree with.”

Senator Organa cleared his throat. “We are fortunate enough have stopped both bioweapons, but we cannot ignore that the Separatists may use similar methods against us. We shall have to discuss this further, but until then let us move on. I believe the next topic is the Dark Reaper that the Jedi managed to destroy on Thule.”

Chapter Text

Year 14, Month 01, Day 06
Getov High Command
Berlin, Getov Prime
Greater Getov Reich


Grand Master Reinhard Heydrich of the Teutonic Knights walked through the hallways of the Getov General Staff Headquarters. It was a new year for the galaxy, with new possibilities, and with victory soon within grasp. The Lieutenant that was guiding him into the depths of the complex didn’t show any emotion, but he could sense it. He could feel the young officer’s being uncomfortable with the Knight with him, a feeling that Heydrich had become used to since returning to the fatherland. However, there was another emotion that he could sense, but harder to place. Stretching out with the Force, he delved deeper until he sensed what could only be described as disdain. That was another emotion that he was becoming familiar with, especially from those of the regular Getov military. He didn’t care what they thought of him. They knew that his loyalty to the Reich was absolute, and that nothing would convince him otherwise.

After a few more minutes of walking, they came to the conference room where the General Staff was meeting. Even outside of the room with the door closed, the voice of the Fuhrur could be heard. “Here you are, Grand Master,” the lieutenant said, clearing his throat. “When you are done, contact the front desk and we will send someone to escort you to the entrance.

Heydrich knew what the junior officer wasn’t saying. Don’t wander off. “Thank you, Lieutenant. I shall do that.” As the officer walked away, Heydrich straitened his cloak and activated the door. As it opened, he could see a holoprojector of the Europa Region of the Sector surrounded many high ranking members of the General Staff, including Admiral Donitz of the Raummarine; Admiral Caranis of the Abwehr; General Colonel Zeitzler, Chief of the OKH General Staff; and General Colonel Jodl, head of the OKW General Staff, were only a few. He could also see Reichsführer Himmler of the SS.

Everyone in the room looked to see him walking him. He didn’t need the Force to feel the tension in the room. He gave the Nazi salute, which was returned by Hitler. “I apologize for being tardy. I was in deep mediation for guidance in the Force.”

Most of the military staff hid any distain for the Knight, but Hitler nodded. “Grand Master, you have arrived in time to hear General Jodl’s explanation on how we lost Rome to the Allies, and soon the entire Roma System.” He shot a glare at the general.

General Jodl didn’t flinch. He typed in a series of commands on the display and the hologram focused on the planet Roma. “Mein Fuhrer, the Gustav Line was holding well against the Allied assaults, but when Admiral Cunningham’s naval forces bombarded our positions, several commanders took that time to attack. None of them were successful in breaching the lines, but there was one point where they managed to break through. General Montgomery’s forces were able to force a breach and began to push through the gap. The rest of our forces had to fall back, otherwise they would get cut off by Generals Rommel and Clark. However, we were able to inflict heavy losses. Many of their panzers were destroyed and several infantry formations, most of them coming from Montgomery’s command.”

Hitler glared at the general, but he continued. “There were several fortifications that we had set up behind the Gustav Line, but none of them were completely finished or provisioned and were only able to succeed in slowing the Allies long enough for the rest of our military to pull back to Rome.”

“Yes, and I gave orders for the city to be turned into a fortress,” the Fuhrer almost yelled. “Why were those orders not followed?”

There was silence around the room until Admiral Caranis cleared his throat. “The people of Rome rose up against the forces that were there. We don’t know how it started, but we know that Norian partisans began attacking various locations within the city,” he explained. “Combined with the push that the Allies were conducting, this caused logistical problems that were compounded when the shield generator failed and the forces loyal to the Norian King began to fly into the city, with Montgomery pushing through the defenses.”

Hitler began to turn red from fury and began to shout. “This failure will not be tolerated! Who was the commander in charge of the defense of Rome? He said he would be able to hold the city.”

General Colonel Jodl answered, “Colonel-General Heinrich von Vietinghoff was in command of the Tenth Army. At this time, he is evacuating as many of his forces and equipment as possible. He is also overlooking the building of more defensive lines on the route to the planet Milan. The large number of asteroid fields should make the jumps predictable and allow us to stay on the defensive in that area and prevent them from advancing until we have rebuilt.”

“I want that man relieved of command and brought here immediately,” Hitler said finally. “He has shown that he is unable to effectively do his job and obey orders.” He turns and looks at Heydrich. “I want you to place a Knight in command of the Tenth Army, and make sure that it is someone who can handle the task properly.”

Several people exchanged glances at this decision that the Fuhrer had made, with Admiral Caranis the first to speak. “Do you think that is wise? I’m worried that—”

“You’ve reported many times that the Republic is using their Jedi to command vast armies,” Hitler said, cutting the admiral off, “and are very successful when they enter combat. We know that our Teutonic Knights are far superior to them so it is time to prove it, and show our superiority.”

Many of the General Staff officers were unsure of the decision that Hitler was making. Some of them were logical, and even made sense, especially those that were associated with the Rarus Front, but it seemed as though the other theaters were doing the exact opposite. Heydrich could sense contempt from several, but it was very faint. While this could mean it was just the simple rivalry between the various parts of the Getov military, it wouldn’t take munch to hide, especially one who has had to hide their inner thoughts.

“Yes, that is true,” Caranis explained, “but the Jedi are fighting against foes that have very little combat experience and droid armies that lack the resourcefulness of regular combat troops. The only aspect that the Confederacy has right now that gives them an edge over the Republic is that they have been preparing for this conflict for years now and have General Grevious commanding their forces.”

“Are you questioning the leadership ability of the Teutonic Knights?” Himmler asked, raising an eyebrow. “It seems to me that you are not in favor of them leading regular combat forces, and believe that they should remain where they have been? Serving as shock troops?”

“That is not what he is saying,” General Jodl said, trying to prevent what could spiral into something nasty. “It is just that there are less than a hundred Teutonic Knights total and about one-fourth of that number is good enough to go into combat. The rest are in various stages of training and are not ready for combat yet.”

“Combat training is not something that is needed for us,” Heydrich said finally. “All we need is the Force to guide us, and we shall be victorious.” He smiled slightly as he continued. “There is proof to that statement, when we killed a large portion of the Rarus command staff in Kiev. We know that they attacked General Valutin’s Command Headquarters, and that his death was successful.”

But both of the Knights were killed or captured, Caranis thought. He knew better than to mention that in either Heydrich, Himmler, or the Fuhrer’s presence.

“Speaking of the Rarus, the final preparations for attacking Kiev and the retaking of the planet are in its final stages,” General Colonel Zeitzler said. He imputed the commands on the console and it shifted to the Rarus Front. “According to Manstein, they should be ready to launch the attack within two weeks. Reports indicate that the Rarus lost about a third of their fighting force and have only been able to receive small numbers of reinforcements from the interior. They showed that a majority of it were heavy units and several capital ships in Ukrania. Balya Rus has also received reinforcements, but these are light capital ships and mechanized infantry brigades. There are also some reports that they had to move these forces away from Leningrad to do this.”

“Good,” Hitler said as he nodded. His infamous temper beginning to fade at the mention of good news. “This shows that they are experiencing high losses as well. We’ll take back Kiev and show them they are no better than dogs. After that, we will take Leningrad from them and continue to push forward.” He turned to face Admiral Donitz. “What is the status of our fleet?”

The admiral shifted slightly. His failure to stop or even damage the Republic forces that had arrived in the Sector was still a black mark on his record. Donitz had hoped that the destruction of the fleet would improve his standing with the Fuhrer, but now he was feeling threatened that he could be replaced by either a members of the SS or one of the Teutonic Knights. “We’ve been working on developing a new raider, with an increased weapon payload and better sensor buoys.” The hologram again changed to show the Type XXI raider. “We are also looking into adding a fighter compliment to some of them, but it will be difficult for the craft to return. The cloaking shield still blinds our raider forces, however, and the need for external sensor buoys raises the risk of detection by Allied vessels.”

“We have also finished the upgrades to the Tirpitz, as you requested, Mein Fuhrer,” Donitz said, switching the hologram to the last ship of the Bismarck-class battleship. “Her guns have been upgraded for longer range without sacrificing power, her point-defense systems has been upgraded to counter the fighters that she will no doubt encounter, and her shields have been improved to where they are twenty percent stronger. She could almost be considered a brand new ship.”

The Fuhrer nodded. “That is excellent news, Admiral.” He pressed a few buttons and brought up the small area of space that separated Albion and Flovis, specifically the area that was around the planets Brittany and Calais. “When her shakedown cruise is finished, I want the Tirpitz to be in orbit over Paris for when the Allies eventually invade. Also, make sure that our raiders are operating off Calais and Brittany to gather intelligence and to serve as an early warning.” He turned to look at Admiral Canaris. “What have your agents discovered from the Allies?”

He cleared his throat. “We have received word that General Montgomery will be relieved of command of his forces in Noria and will be transferred to Albion. We assess that he will be placed in command of Allied forces in Albion for the liberation of Europa. Most of the intelligence we seem to be gathering points to Calais being the target for the invasion.”

Hitler shook his head. “I’m sorry, but are wrong. Calais will be a distraction while Brittany will be the point where the invasion will branch out into the rest of Flovis.”

“While your intelligence operative may be good at their job, myself and the rest of the Teutonic Order have the Force to guide us,” Grand Master Heydrich said confidently. “To give us visions of the future and what to expect. How else do you expect us to have such exceptional combat records?”

No one in the room wanted to mention that it was their visions that told of fighting in the Moscow system that was interpreted as a victory, or their failure to prevent the commando raid to rescue the King of Noria from their custody. Many of the General Staff put little faith in visions, but Hitler and the SS saw them as a guarantee against the Allies.

“Perhaps a demonstration would be in order,” Himmler suggested. “I am sure that once they see that you are able to tell them what you see, then perhaps their suspicions will be lifted.”

Heydrich could feel the emotions coming from the military commanders, but he didn’t flinch at this. “Of course Reichsführer,” giving the man a slight nod. “Do I have your permission to do so, Mein Fuhrer?” He received a nod and took a seat in one of the many chairs that were not being used. Placing his hands in his lap, and closed his eyes and opened himself to the Force. Around him, objects began to levitate: datacards, datapads, hats, and even some of the chairs started to float in the air. He began to see flashes. He saw the strikes over the planets of Albion, the training of the New Teutonic Knights, he even saw people and beings marching into the various camps. These were not what he was looking for, and he delved deeper. Then he saw something. He saw a space battle over a planet, with ships and defense stations in orbit. There were ships that belonged to the Reich, but he also saw ships that belonged to the Allies, and he saw the Venator-class Star Cruisers of the Republic. The vision changed, and he saw someone who he hadn’t seen in years. It was Jedi Master T'ra Saa, her golden-brown skin and brown tendrals that were her hair. There was a Republic admiral with her, and he could hear parts of the conversation that they were having.

“Admiral Stark,” the Jedi said, in a calm voice, “it looks like Getov forces were expecting us. How many ships have we lost?”

“Three ships. All of them belonging to the Allies. Several have been damaged and we’ve sustained heavy losses in our fighter groups. I would call for a retreat, but we have our orders and a job to do,” Stark replied, and he turned toward his Operations Officer. “Ready the first wave of Clone Troopers. Tell them the Hypervelocity Gun at Normandy is their target.”

Heydrich began to pull himself out of the Force until he opened his eyes to see several orderlies moving around and picking things up that had fallen to the ground. He felt tired, but he was proud of himself. He had glimpsed into the future, and had seen that the Republic and Allied Fleets would be in trouble when they finally arrived.

“What did you see Grand Master?” Himmler asked.

Heydrich looked at the head of the SS and answered, “I saw the Republic and Allied fleets. They had encountered heavy resistance and losses.” He then looked at the members of the General Staff, and finally at the Fuhrer. A smile began to form on his face. “I heard them mention Normandy, and I saw the planet. The Allies and Republic will attack Brittany for the focus of their invasion of Europa.”

Year 14, Month 01, Day 03
ORP Żmija
Outside the Krakow System
Getov-occupied Polanie


Lieutenant Commander Karol Gorski sat in his command chair on the bridge of his raider, tapping his fingers on his knee. Blackness outside the viewport. He was nervous, but he was always nervous before a strike against Getov supply ships. For the last few months, Getov supply convoys have been better protected since the capture of some of their convoys the previous year. Word from Albion intelligence said that the previous commander in charge of securing supply lines had been dismissed and disposed of, and his replacement was attempting to placate the Fuhrer. With the upcoming offensive against the Rarus Federation coming up, supply ships were once again becoming vulnerable. Any warship that could be spared were being sent to attack the Rarus forces in Kiev.

Looking at the chronometer, the time for the convoy’s arrival was close. “Send out the sensor pod, Lieutenant Adamczyk,” he ordered.

“Yes, Commander,” the sensor operator answered. The cloaking system used by the various raiders of the Terran Sector shielded the vessel from sensors, but had the result of blinding the ship also. The way around this problem was to send a sensor probe, attached to a tether, to scan the surrounding area. It ran the risk of detection, but it was considered acceptable for those who commanded the vessels. “Passive scans show nothing in the area, sir.”

Gorski looked back up at the time. A few more minutes. “Keep the probe out for a few more minutes. I want to know if our targets will arrive.” MI6 had given them information that a Getov supply convoy would arrive in the vicinity of their location. The Getov had the habit of being very punctual when it came to time tables. “Place the ship at General Quarters.” An alarm went off for a few moments, but Commander Gorski ignored it. He was focused on the task at hand.

“Commander, I’m detecting four ships exiting hyperspace,” Adamczyk reported. “Transponders identify them as three Danzig-class transports and one Zerstörer-class destroyer.”

Gorski looked down at his datapad, and the information that Albion had provided was the same. Taking a deep breath, he began to issue commands. “Send a burst transmission to the other ships in the system informing them that our targets has arrived. Lieutenant Michalski, I want an increase in speed and a course plotted that will bring us alongside their location. I want weapons powered-up and ready. We have fifteen minutes before they jump back into hyperspace.”

The bridge crew began their assigned tasks, and the raider began to move toward the convoy’s location. Several minutes past and the sensor operator reported new activity. “Commander, I’m picking up three more ships exiting hyperspace. It’s the ships from within the system.”

“Give me an active scan of the area,” Gorski commanded. “Be ready to drop the cloaking field on my mark.”

“Initiating active scan,” Adamczyk reported. “Getov destroyer is launching a couple flights of fighters. They appear to be occupied by the freighters. Range to convoy: one thousand kilometers. Destroyer is changing cource. They must have picked up our scan.”

They are moving fast, Gorski thought. “Input the locations of the ships into the targeting computer and prepare to fire a torpedo spread in my command. Drop the cloaking field,” he said finally. The blackness that the bridge crew had been starting at for hours was suddenly filled with a battle. In front of them, three heavily modified freighters of the Armia Krajowa harried the Getov freighters and destroyer. Me-109 starfighters chased the freighters, but were too focused to notice the raider that had suddenly appeared in their midst.

Unleashing several torpedoes, the Żmija fired at the transports, all of them attempting to escape the trap that had fallen into. Two of them were hit directly by the torpedo spreads, venting atmosphere and their cargo; their engines fading from a loss of power. The third transport received only moderate damage, and was continueing to move away from the fighting. The destroyer, was quicker to react, and began to turn its weapons onto the raider.

"Last transport is attempting to escape the battle, Commander,” Adamczyk reported. “Enemy destroyer is bringing weapons to bear on us.”

“Tell the freighters to go after the transport,” he replied quickly. “We’ll keep the destroyer busy until then.” The raider shook from the impact from several turbolaser bolts impacting the shields. “Status?”

“Shields down to ninety-one percent, Commander,” Lieutenant Zawadzki, the operations officer, answered.

“Reload torpedo tubes and begin firing on the destroyer with the laser cannon,” Gorski ordered. The raider shook again from more impacts. “Divert what power we can to the engines. Let’s see if we can outrun this thing.”

Three minutes passed, with it seeming far longer than that to the rest of the crew. The Żmija fighting a vessel that was designed to destroy raiders. The only factor that kept the raider from being destroyed was the experience of it’s commander.

Gorski had been in command of raiders since before his country was reborn. He had fought for Getov in the First Terran Sector War close to a generation ago, but had joined his new country’s navy after the war had ended. First, he had served as a raider commander but later taught at Polanie’s naval acadamy. When Getov and the Rarus Frderation had invaded his home, he had rejoined the fleet and escapde to Albion. After several months of negotiating, the government-in-exil and been loaned several ships, with him taking a Albion raider that had been renamed Żmija. He had taken part in several different Allied operations, but his prefered assignment was going after the supplies that went thought his homeland.

“Commander, we have lost aft, port side torpedo tubes, and the forward cannon has been destroyed” the weapons officer reported. “Our remaining tubes have been reloaded.”

“Fighters are making another pass at us, Commander,” Adamczyk reported. Through the viewport, they could see four Getov starfighters firing their cannons, the vessel shaking from the impacts from both the fighters and the destroyer. “Enemy destroyer has suffered minor damage.” He was quiet for several seconds as he worked at his station. “Freighters report last transport destroyed. They are requesting to aid us.”

[FONT=&quot]“Tell them to head to the Hub. We will be there shortly.” Gorski ordered. “I want a full spread of torpedoes fired at the destroyer. After that, power-up the hyperdrive and get us to the Hub.” He received acknowledgement. He saw several proton torpedoes fire off and arch to the destroyer. The enemy vessel’s engines began to glow in an attempt to escape the projectiles as they approached, firing bolts in an attempt to destroy the torpedoes before they impacted. The destroyer’s defenses stopped many of them, but a few managed to survive, impacting and exploding near the vessels engines. By the time damage control parties were able to assess the damage, the Żmija was long gone, as were the freighters that had ambushed the convoy. All that remained, were three destroyed transports and a damaged destroyer, with a very nervous captain who was wondering how he would explain this, and still keep his command.

Year 14, Month 01, Day 10
War Ministry
London, the United Kingdom


Churchill puffed on his cigar, looking over the various reports that came with being the Prime Minister of the Albion Empire. Resources needed to be allocated, military forces needed to be deployed, and allies needed to be placated. It was all a colossal headache, but he enjoyed being in power. The coalition government was still firmly supportive of the war, but he knew that things would go differently after Getov is defeated. He also knew that the Empire would eventually break apart, with the Commonwealth being a shadow of its former self. Even India, the crown jewel of the Empire, would be lost, but he was trying to find ways to try and fix some of the problems. General Eisenhower had been helping him, with his knowledge of events that had happened after his death, the general was helping ensure that the Albion Empire lasted longer than it did on Earth.

Then there was the problem of Stalin and the Rarus Federation. Knowing what would happen to Europe after the end of the war was a topic that he was going to try and stop things from going that way. He had been in talk with President Cordell Hull during two important conferences the previous year in the city of Tehran. Stalin had demanded that Polanie return of the Grodno system and be compensated by taking Pomerania from Getov, but the Polanie government-in-exile refused. The divvying of Europa under the victorious powers of the war was going to be difficult, but he was determined to try and limit the amount of territory that Stalin would have under his influence.

Other reports he read were about the war. The most recent report he was reading was about a new shipyard being completed in Aurora, along with several armament factories. It would help in reducing the burden for Albion for the rest of the war in the Pacifica Theater. There was also the new destroyer squadron that had been completed late last year. The ships were being put through shakedown cruises before they joined the large Allied fleet in a couple of months. In other theaters, New Guinea was being fought over with General MacArthur in command, and the man was as sure of himself as Churchill remembered. The more interesting news was coming from the Bamar Campaign. A better chain-of-command had been put in place and some results were beginning to show. Admiral Mountbatten was reporting that the Separatists forces in that region of the Sector were proving a problem, especially with General Stillwell’s attempt to reopen the Bamar Route. However, there was progress, especially from the Kunian First Army. They had been the best performing army in that theater, but there were some fears that nationalists in Indou and other parts of the Empire may see them as an example of rebellion.

There was a knocking at the door and Churchill answered. In walked a silver protocol droid. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Prime Minister, but I wanted to remind you that you’re meeting with General Eisenhower is in thirty minutes.”

Looking down at his watch, he didn’t realize and just how much time had passed. “Thank you. Please tell my secretary that I want my speeder brought to the front.”

“Of course, Prime Minister,” the droid said, with a slight bow.

One Hour Later
Allied Force Headquarters


General Dwight D. Eisenhower placed his datapad on the desk infront of him and looked around the room. In the middle, a large map of the “Western” parts of Europa, along with the latest intelligence on the locations and strength of Getov and other Axis forces in the area. Besides himself and his aides, there were other military commanders of the Allied powers that were important to operations in this theater.

Prime Minister Churchill and Field Marshall Brooke were there with their staffs, discussing the steps that the Albion military would need to take in the next few months. Both of them including members of the Kanata (Canada) and Aurorian (Australian) militaries in their talks for the upcoming invasion of Europa. He could see the tension that was between the two of them, but he also knew that they both had the utmost respect for each other. General Kazimierz Sosnkowski of Polanie was there with his staff, and he remembered how vocal the general had been when the Warsaw uprising had begun. Both Eisenhower and Churchill were discussing on what to do about that but they would have a few more months until they would need to finalize anything. Members of the Batavia (Dutch), Belgica (Belgium), and Nororvegr (Norway) militaries were also in attendance, to learn of their roles in the upcoming invasion.

Other commanders that were in attendance were Generals Bernard Montgomery and George Patton. Eisenhower had wondered if perhaps “Monty” had joined them in the galaxy, but from what Patton and he had been able to observe from dealing with the man, was that he was not. Eisenhower had then learned just how much of a difficulty it could be when dealing with General Montgomery, and while he was a good commander, the man’s attitude was just as frustrating as it had been on Earth. He had worried that the rivalry between the two of them would be out of control, but surprisingly, Patton had been almost dismissive on some of the barbs that Montgomery threw at him. He assumed that knowing how events would go had dulled his rivalry with the Albion commander

The one great military presence that was not represented Floevis (France) and the reason for that was because this galaxy’s version of Charles De Gaulle was in the Afrikana Regions of the Sector. This De Gaulle was just as difficult and arrogant, and his demanding of being recognized as the rightful leader of the French Republic was just as problematic as on Earth. Eisenhower had used all of his diplomatic skills and reasoning to try and convince De Gaulle that his demands to be recognized as the leader of Floevis. President Cordell Hull refused to acknowledge this until elections could be held in Floevis itself. He was also not going to be informed of the details of the invasion. Eisenhower had tried to convince the general that they should use the codes that the American and Albion military had, but his refusal to do so forced most of Allied command to leave them out of the loop. They did, however, keep in close contact with the various resistance groups in Europa, and many of them would prove useful in a few months.

“Attention everyone,” Eisenhower said, and everyone turned to face him. He cleared his throat. “Thank all of you for coming, and I want to welcome General T’ra Saa, Admiral Garyth Stark, and Clone Commander “Salvo” from the Republic. They will no doubt be useful in assisting us in the liberation of Europa from Getov.”

“Thank you, General Eisenhower,” the Jedi said calmly. “It is an honor to be here, and to ensure that the atrocities that Getov is committing on the people of the Terran Sector. I have seen many conflicts in my many centuries of life, but I did not realize just how different the war here was until I read some of the actions that the Getov and Katanian leadership are making.”

“Indeed,” Admiral Stark said. “I thought we would be done for when the Getov fleet ambushed us at the outer regions of the sector. I want to thank the American Fourth Fleet and Albion Intelligence in saving us.”

“Believe me, we are glad that you are here,” Prime Minister Churchill said. “With your help, we will be able to free Europa from that madman Hitler.”

Eisenhower cleared his throat. “Before we begin this briefing, I must inform everyone that this information is considered Top Secret and is not to be shared with anyone outside of this room. Security is our biggest concern right now and we need to ensure that Getov does not receive any of this information.” When he saw that there were no objections, he walked up to the holoprojector and zoomed it in on Floevis and the surrounding nations.

“Invading Floevis is the first step in liberating Europa. However, Hitler and the Getov General Staff know this, and it is the reason why they have been sending reinforcements into the region. We have been building up here on Albion and at Midplane in preparation for this operation which we are calling OVERLORD. This invasion will open a second front against the Getov military and force them to split between us and the Rarus Federation.”

General Sosnkowski raised his hand. “If I may ask, General, what will this invasion encompass?”

Eisenhower pressed a series of commands and icons appeared on the planets Albion and Midplane. “The invasion will be made up of two separate forces. General T’ra Saa and the other Republic forces will fall under the command of General Montgomery, along with a fleet of vessels of both American and Albion forces,” he explained, as markers appeared on the map. “They will invade the Brittany System, and draw out as many Getov forces as possible.”

“Excuse me, General, but what exactly do you mean by drawing them out?” General Montgomery asked.

Eisenhower knew what the Albion general was thinking, but continued. “Your force will be a distraction, General Montgomery. We have been working on an elaborate deception campaign making it appear as we will be invading the Brittany System but that we would instead invade Calais. Your force will serve as a distraction that will pull as many Getov forces into the system as possible. While that is happening, the real invasion force will arrive in the Calais System where General Patton will—”

“I’m sorry to interrupt you, but you said that I will be the distraction? I mean no disrespect, but I think that my talents will be better suited in leading the actual invasion and not those of a diversionary force. I was the commander who breached the Gustav Line on Roma and liberated the Norian capital of Rome.”

Everyone was looking at the Albion general and then turned toward Eisenhower to see how he would respond. “I understand that you may feel that your talents are being wasted, but this is part of the deception campaign. Getov High Command will know that you are here, and that you are one of our best commanders. We will need you to convince them that you are leading the true invasion force while General Patton leads a false one.”

Montgomery appeared as though he was going to protest some more before Churchill spoke. “He is right, General. Deception is just as important as combat in this operation. We all need to work together to defeat Hitler and his regime, and ensure that no evil like this can return to threaten us.”

The General didn’t appear to like the assignment that he was being given, but after seeing that everyone’s eyes were upon him, he relented. “Very well, Prime Minister. I shall accept my assignment and perform to the best of my ability.”

“What kind of defenses will we encounter when we arrive within the Brittany System?” Admiral Stark asked.

“A small network of defense stations within the system, with at least two dozen naval vessels of various classes within the system at one time. Nothing larger than a cruiser however,” Eisenhower explained. “The Floevis Resistance has informed us that the planet has a couple of hypervelocity guns that arrived last month, but they have not been able to provide us with their locations yet. It is possible that they have been hidden, but we have not received any information to confirm that.”

Admiral Stark nodded and Eisenhower continued. “Admiral Bertram Ramsay will be in charge of the invasions that will take the Calais System, which is to take place two days after the invasion of Brittany.” He looked over at Ramsey, who was gazing at the depiction of the invasion. “Calais is the headquarters for Getov forces in Batavia, Belgica, and occupied-Floevis, so defenses are expected to be very strong in the system. Also, the battleship Tirpitz is stationed there, and has recently finished upgrades to her weapons and shields. We are unsure where or when it will be deployed, but it can be assessed that it may stay in the area for the invasions. The Resistance has managed to give us numbers and locations of several stations, and the disposition of their forces. There is usually no less than fifty vessels in the system at one time. It is expected that when the Republic fleet arrives, most of these will leave the system in an attempt to push the Republic back. That is when Ramsey will arrive and move through to the planet itself, where General Patton will liberate the planet.”

“What sort of support will the Floevis Resistance be able to provide?” Patton asked.

“Sabotage mainly. Loss of comms in key areas, disabling of transports and weapons systems are what they have promised. They have said they will provide us with what military capabilities they have. Some freighters that have been fitted with military weapon systems.”

“What about reinforcements from the other systems of Europa?” General T’ra Saa asked. “Getov is not going to just allow for this to happen.”

“That is where we open another front in Floevis,” General Brooke replied. He walked up to projector and pressed a series of keys, focusing on the “lower” parts of the nation. “The front with Noria has stabilized after the liberation of Roma. There are still several hold outs, and we see the occasional Getov ship providing support, but it is relatively quiet. At the same time as we invade Calais, Admiral Cunningham and General Rommel will invade the Provence System, and force Hitler to have to fight three separate invasions at once.”

“I won’t lie to any of you,” Eisenhower said finally. “This is going to be a very complex operation, and there are many things that could go wrong. We need to maintain security and keep any information about this secret, and ensure that our deception continues even after the invasions begin. I can also tell you that there will be a lot of casualties in these invasions, and a lot of sons and daughters probably won’t be returning to their loved ones, but this is a necessary step in freeing Europa from the yoke of tyranny.” He pauses for a few seconds, looking at every person in the room. “All of you know what Getov is doing to the beings they consider undesirables. Aliens, humans who don’t agree with the regime, and those who have a set different beliefs.”

There were many who shifted in the room. They all had seen the images that the Polanie Resistance had brought out and shown to the Allies. The commanders of the Republic forces had been especially disgusted, with the clones breaking their famous resilient demeanor. “We cannot allow something like this to continue anymore. When we invade Floevis, it will be the beginning of the end for Hitler and his regime.”

“Well, said,” Churchill said, finishing off his cigar. “We all know the stakes and what we need to do. We have a finite amount of time to prepare for these invasions and we will use it to ready ourselves. So, training for this operation will begin in one week.”

“We are ready to begin when needed, Prime Minister,” Commander “Salvo” said. “We’ll fight them with our vibroblades if we have to; to the last of us if it means stopping these horrors. The men of the 252nd Clone Battalion will be there to the end.”

“That is good to know,” Eisenhower said, as he gave the Clone Commander a nod, and turned to face everyone. “Everyone enjoy your last easy week, because it is going to be busy for the next few months.”

Chapter Text

Year 14, Month 01, Day 14
Kiev System
Union of Ukrania Federated Worlds
Rarus Federation


Lieutenant Gregory Romanov pulled back on the stick as a Getov Me-109 flew underneath him. Looking up through the canopy of his Yak-9 fighter, he could see the enemy pilot looking up at him. Flipping over, he brought himself onto the 109’s “six o’clock”. The 109’s pilot banked to the left, diving through debris as it tried to lose his pursuer, but Romanov continued on, dodging the debris as he came closer to his quarry.

“Take the shot!” his wingman almost yelled over the comm.

Romanov ignored it. He needed to focus. After a few more seconds, he brought his laser cannons onto the 109 tail, a characteristic beep heard before he unleashed several bolts of red energy into the fighter. He saw the shields on the craft absorb the impacts, but he continued to pour on the fire. Soon, the shield collapsed, and the Getov fighter was enveloped in a brilliant fireball.

Pulling out of his dive, Lieutenant Romanov, triple ace, and awardee of the Hero of the Rarus Federation, looked at the crude instruments and outside his cockpit. The fighting for the system had been going on for a days. After General Valiutin’s death the previous year, the system had been declared secured and many were expecting for the offensive to continue and liberate the rest of Getov-occupied Ukrania. Instead, a large formation of Getov ships arrived in the system and were breaking through the defensive lines. Getov forces beginning to land on the planet and the fighting had become fierce as neither side was willing to give up until the other was dead.

“Reaper Leader, this is Captain Tupolev,” a voice came over the comm. “You and your squadron is to form up in Sector Baker Nine, and await for further orders.”

“Copy, Comrade Captain.” Romanov switched frequencies to that of his squadron. “Attention comrades, we are to regroup at Sector Baker Nine. All craft acknowledge.” He received responses from all that had survived. He brought his fighter onto the proper heading and was soon joined by others. When they arrived, Romanov could see that several other squadrons of fighters were in the sector, along with numerous bombers. He knew what sort of mission that they would be given, and he looked forward to it.

His comm crackled and he soon heard an unfamiliar voice. “Attention pilots, this is General Rokossovsky. A formation of Getov vessels is attempting to breach the last perimeter in orbit over the planet. We know that their target is the city of Kiev. This cannot be allowed and you are tasked to strike against this force and ensure that they pay for the crimes they have committed against the people of the Rarus Federation.”

Romanov looked down at his display and could see several flights of bombers joining the various fighters. From the numbers, it was a formation of close to a hundred fighters and bombers that were being assigned to this attack. Looking out thought his canopy, he could see the flashes of turbolaser fire along the perimeter as Rarus and Getov ships bombarded each other with everything they had and saw a bright flash as a vessel exploded. On his screen, the sensors showed that the Getov ships were moving past the defenses. He received word that all formations were ready to begin and did one last status check on his systems.

“Good luck, Comrades,” Lieutenant Romanov heard over the comm from Rokossovsky. He increased the power to his engines and his and the rest of the craft raced forward. As they sped toward their targets, Romanov ensured that his squadron stayed in formation, and as they came closer, he could see more details on the fighting on the perimeter. The Getov vessels had destroyed several Rarus ships, and all indications showed that they were not going to be stopped.

“Attention fighter craft, this is the heavy cruiser Sevastopol,” a voice over the comm reported. “We’ll try to clear a path for you to the formation. Good luck.”

The heavy cruisers engines brightened as it began to move forward through the melee. Its heavy turbolaser batteries unleashing dozens of bolts at enemy craft as they tried to stop the vessel from coming closer. Romanov could see its shield absorb hundreds of hits as fighters, bombers, and capital ships tried to destroy it. He watched as the shields shimmered for a few seconds and then it saw a flash as they collapsed. The cruiser didn’t stop, and continued to move forward, scorch marks appearing on its hull as it was hit dozens of times, and returning fire.

A series of explosions raked the side of the vessel as two Getov frigates and several fighters launched torpedoes at the cruiser. Romanov saw the engines begin to fade and several batteries exploded as other Getov ships joined, unleashing dozens of blasts and torpedoes into the disabled cruiser, inflicting numerous hull breaches and secondary explosions until the cruiser broke apart from a ruptured power core.

“Bombers, use the debris as cover. Fighters will try to draw enemy craft away to provide the bombers with a clear route.” He increased power to full and raced toward the enemy ships. In front, he could see dozens of Getov fighters, some of them Me-109s while others were the heavier Fw-190.

“Oh, I have a bad feeling about this,” a pilot said as they flew around the remains of the cruiser.

“Fighters coming in!” another shouted. Other groups speed toward the merge, at top speed, bolts from their cannons unleashed at they pass each other. The formations collapsing into pairs as leaders and their wingmen chased after enemy craft.

Romanov pulled hard to port as he tried to bring himself behind two 190s that were chasing a single Rarus bomber that had been caught outside of the debris field. The bomber pulled a hard turn to port, but the 190s followed and fired their cannons; the bomber disappearing in a fireball. He brought his cannons onto the fighters and fired several bolts, with the wingman pulling away but the leader staying on course and decelerating, trying to cause him to overshoot. Romanov was too experienced and dove; pulling back up and bringing his fighter under the 190, firing on its belly. The fighter exploded after only a few seconds of bombardment from his cannons. Bringing his fighter to face the wreckage of the Sevastopol, he could see several bombers coming through the debris field. The first ones through fired missiles and torpedoes at the various Getov vessels. Those, then began to turn away to allow for the others that had followed, a clear path to the Getov fleet.

“Enemy fighters coming in, bearing 320, heading straight for the bombers,” a pilot reported.

“Reapers, form up behind me. We are going to stop those Getov pigs before they can get to the bombers.” Romanov adjusted the inertial dampeners and flew at full speed toward the Getov fighters. He could see several enemy missiles launched, arching toward the bombers that were just exiting the debris. Several attempted to dodge the incoming projectiles, but none were successful, the debris limiting their maneuvering room.

Diving onto the Getov reinforcements, Romanov, and the other members of his squadron opened fire on the enemy ships. Few of the shot hit anything, but it was enough to cause them to scatter away from the bombers.

Bringing himself behind the nearest fighter, Lieutenant Romanov fired his cannons. The fighter barrel rolled and arched upward, and he pulled his stick to pursue, determined to kill this pilot. Taking a quick glance at his instruments, he looked back up to see the fighter had turned around and was firing at him. Reacting quickly, he cut power to his engines and pulled hard to starboard, turning sharply as he dived to try and get away from his pursuer. He diverted as much power as he could spare to the rear defector shields, juking and jinking randomly to try and lose his pursuer.

“They’re all over me! Get them off my—” Romanov heard over his squadron’s frequency, and saw a flash in the distance, no doubt the man who had just been killed. He saw another explosion, this one much larger, followed by another. They had come from two Getov ships that were attempting to break the line, but he knew that it wouldn’t be enough. He glanced to his right to see a Getov fighter pull up beside him, and appeared as though it was escorting him. Shaking his head, Romanov looked again, and saw that it was a Getov Fw-190 that was flying right beside him. Looking to his left, he could see another. He began to look around and could see a squadron of Fw-190s flying in formation with him. All of them had the paint scheme of the Getov military, but there were a few distinguishing marks. The most prominent one were a pair of sig runes that were prominent on the fuselage.

Waffen SS, Romanov thought. Grimacing, he noticed that the other craft began to pull away, but one had stayed. It pulled in closer, this one looking identical to the others, except there was a different marking. Where the sig runes would have been, there were instead a red cross. Romanov tensed, recognizing the symbol of the Getov Teutonic Knights. Looking out at the fighter, he saw the pilot wave at him and pull back. Within seconds, he increased power to his engines and tried to make a break for friendly space. Over his comm, he could hear the voices of other pilots as they were being killed by the Waffen SS.

I know you can hear me, a voice said.

Romanov looked around and checked his comm to see if someone had spoken to him, but there was nothing. He could hear himself breathing deeply as he tried to keep himself calm, but he heard the voice again.

I just wanted to inform you that it was I who killed you.

In front of his cockpit, he saw something out of his nightmares. A creature with a mouth filled with razor-sharp teeth, with six bright yellow eyes, and pale skin. He screamed in terror as the creature lunged at him and pulled his arms back to cover his face from the attacking monster. Lieutenant Romanov, triple ace, and awardee of the Hero of the Rarus Federation, never saw the Teutonic Knight’s fighter as it shot a missile at him.

General Kovev looked up as another impact hit the shield over the city of Kiev. Saying a thank you to a god that he had been told didn’t exist. He looked over the status of the system’s defenses and grimaced. The two Getov fleets had forced breakthroughs and, he was having to deal with an invasion that could cause serious problems for not only himself, but for General Zhukov.

The death of Valutin last year had come as a blow to morale for the Rarus military. One of their greatest and most aggressive commanders killed in a commando raid that had killed much of his staff and caused any plans for offensive operations in the future to be placed on hold until a replacement and staff could be assigned. Stalin had been reasonable for once and had allowed for forces to be brought up so that they could regroup and prepare for taking the last of the Ukrania and pushing into Europa. One good thing from the killing of Valutin, if it could be called that, was the capture of one of the Teutonic Knights. The man had been on the verge of death when he had finally been taken, and that had cost the lives of fifty men and women.

The Knight had attempted to escape after the first few days, using the Force to try and influence the staff into releasing him. It had almost been successful, but it had been foiled when the next shift of guards had arrived. The resulting beating had resulting in the man being close to death again and he had been heavily sedated well after the time that was necessary, but everyone was too wary to take such risks. After a few weeks, the man had recovered enough to where the NKVD had taken custody over him and had been whisked away on an unmarked transport.

Konev had seen the man a few times while he had been recovering, who had to be heavily sedated. The knight was the poster child of what a Getov soldier was supposed to look like: blonde hair, blues eyes, strong jaw, and heavily built. It was an image that Konev despised with all of his being, and had taken much personal effort to not take his blaster and shoot the man there. He would have, if not for the NKVD guards who were standing watch in the isolated ward of the hospital. Konev didn’t know what had happened to the man or where he had been taken, and he didn’t pity for what the Knight would no doubt go through. He instead hoped that the man suffered long for the death of such a great commander and comrade in arms.

The structure once again shook from another impact, this one outside of the city. He swore heavily, pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He wasn’t the only person in the building smoking. Couriers carried the reports from one room to another, the senior officers looking over the disposition of forces within the system and on the planet.

In space, the Getov fleet, one that had been far larger than the one that had defended the system months ago, had breached the outer and inner perimeters by concentrating in two separate thrusts. The main push was made up of regular Getov military formations, and ha been the main focus for most of the commanders. The second one was made up of forces from the Waffen SS, along with some of their Teutonic Knights, and they were causing havoc across the system. He had seen how a taskforce of ten vessels had been destroyed when they had hit an unknown minefield that had not been there a few days prior.

“Damn them all,” he said to himself, as he looked at the developing situation in the system. An orderly walked up to him and handed him a datapad. “What does it say, comrade? I don’t have time to read everything that is handed to me.” He rubbed one of his temples. “Give me the summary.”

“Getov forces have landed on the planet, Comrade General,” the junior officer answered, clearly nervous.

Konev exhaled loudly. More bad news was not what he wanted, but he pulled the datacard out and inserted it into the computer. The display changed, this one showing the disposition of the Getov landing. “It appears a whole corp of armor along with their supporting units have landed a few hundred kilometers from the city.” He turned to the officer. “Are these regular Getov military or are they SS?”

“Scouts in the area show that they are regular military, though there have been indications that a few SS ships are approaching the planet,” he answered promptly. “They could be trying to make a push for the city.”

As Konev looked over the map, he tried to find any terrain that he could use to his advantage. There were a couple of towns and a few small ridges, but it was mostly flatland all across the planet. Open ground where no delaying action could take place. “What formations do we have that can respond immediately?”

The sounds of explosions could be heard again as Getov ships bombarded them from orbit. The officer, looking up nervously, looked back has Konev before answering. “A few brigades, comrade. Most of them are Motor Rifle with a light armor division. They are still waiting for replacements from the liberation of the planet. Most of their combat strength is 50%.”

Konev looked back over the map. Choices to me made and decisions make… the pressures of command were ever present. “I want those formations to take positions along this ridge,” he pointed. “It’s roughly half way between we and the Hitlerites, and should provide them with a decent position to inflict casualties. Any other formations on the planet, I want them reformed. Merge them if you have to, but I want formations at full strength and ready to counter any other advances the fascists may attempt on the planet!”

“Understood, Comrade General,” he said. The officer turned and walked away.

Konev watched as the man walked off as another series of strikes impacted the shields. As dust one again fell from the ceiling, Konev cursed the situation he was in, and whatever being or entity caused this to happen in the first place.

Year 14, Month 01, Day 18
Kharkiv
The Union of Ukraina Federated Worlds
The Rarus Federation


The room was filled with cigarette smoke as everyone tried to calm themselves. The situation along most of the front had stabilized, but the one region that everyone was focusing on was the Ukrania. General Zhukov read over the latest reports that he had been given on the state of affairs in the Kiev system, and he was not pleased. A lighting attack by Getov forces in the system had breached the defenses and had gained a foothold on the planet. At the moment, General Konev was holding the situation together, but from the intelligence that he had been given, it appeared that the system could fall if reinforcements didn’t arrive in time.

Zhukov grimaced at how different things were going. First there was the pull-back to the Dnieper, saving countless numbers of men and equipment that the Getov could use later. Then the slow advance to the Kiev system, with the deaths of thousands in clearing the spacelanes and securing those systems. Valutin’s death had been expected, but he had not foreseen that it would happen sooner than on Earth. Now, he was having to face an offensive that showed that the Getov military could win a decisive victory against him. If that happened, Stalin would send him out into Siberia to work in one of the various labor camps.

Hitler was back. This was undeniable proof of the fact that the madman responsible for the death of an entire generation of Soviet people was here in this galaxy, and was doing his best to succeed where he had failed in his previous life. The anger that Zhukov had felt a lifetime ago was returning, and with it, the urge to find Hitler and kill the man himself, after he had been paraded through the streets of Moscow for all to see. However, that dream would be far more difficult to achieve. Hitler had former Jedi on his side, with abilities that could almost be considered magical. The NKVD had brought the one they had captured to him before they had continued to Moscow.

Zhukov had spoken with the man a few times as he was held I a separate section of the base that had been isolated from everything else. The man had been under heavy guard, all of them with strong will to resist the suggestions that the Knight had tried to plant in their minds. He had heard how the man had almost escaped using some sort of Jedi mind trick on his guards. The few short conversations they had revealed much. The knight, who refused to give his name, was a devout follower of the Nazi ideology, and when questioned on why he left the Jedi Order, it was because the man believed that all those who come from Getov should return. That the Galactic Republic and Jedi Order had been corrupted by those who were inferior to humanity, and those from Getov in particular. Zhukov could tell by the look in the man’s eyes that he believed whole heartedly in what he was saying. That sickened Zhukov more than anything, but before he could leave, the former Jedi told him, “We will meet again, General. I have foreseen it.”

Pushing the memories from his mind, Zhukov focused on the map, and tried to see where he could pull reinforcements for the Ukrania Front. He had a fleet that had just finished being mobilized from the Caucasus Region of the Federation, but it would take a few weeks to be fully ready for combat and moved to Kiev. Another one had been gathering in the Kursk System, but this had originally been intended to move to Belya Rus to reinforce the fleet in the Minsk System.

So many possibilities, and I can’t rely on history to be my guide any more. Zhukov picked up a datapad and looked over the latest intelligence that the Albion’s MI6 had been able to provide them.

“Comrade General Zhukov,” a familiar, and despised, voice said.

Zhukov looked up to see Commissar Rozovsky walking toward him. “What can I do for you, Comrade Commissar?” He tried to hide his disdain for the man, and his job in general, but he could tell that the man knew his feelings.

“I bring word from the Stavka,” he replied. He produced a datacard and handed it to General.

Zhukov felt uneasiness in the pit of his stomach at what he was being handed. News from the Rarus Supreme Command could be either good or bad, and it was more likely to be the latter. Taking the card, he placed it into his datapad and read the message. No, not yet. Not now. “Stalin has approved this as well?”

A small smile came to the commissar’s face. “Stalin is the head of the Stavka. Of course he approved this.”

“But we are not ready. We need at least two weeks to bring everything together for a unified offensive against the Getov forces in the Kiev system,” Zhukov explained. “We don’t know what Field Marshals Kluge and Model are planning to do for this operation either. It is possible they could strike at us while we are occupied with the Ukrania.”

“And what have our allies in the capitalist United Kingdom said?”

Zhukov was quiet for only a second, but it was one that Rozovsky noticed. “They have reported that there are no indications that they plan on doing anything during this offensive.”

A disarming smile came to Rozovsky face. “See, there is nothing to worry about. However, I do not trust them, or the other capitalist nations we are allying ourselves with.” A look of disgust appeared, but quickly vanished. “It will not matter, though, since we will soon spread the joys of the Revolution to the rest of the Sector, and the galaxy as a whole. As to the situation on the Front,” he gave Zhukov an assuring look, “Stalin has full confidence in your abilities to bring us a crushing victory against the fascists.” The expression on the man’s face suddenly changed to that of smugness. “Or is the wrong man in command?”

Zhukov recognized the threat. Failure to do what Stalin wanted usually resulted in having to count trees for the rest of your life. “No, Comrade Stalin has chosen the correct man to command forces against the Hitlerites.”

“That is good to hear, Comrade. Stalin wants the attack to begin in a week, so you have five days to do so. I have full confidence that the fighting spirt of the Rarus people will triumph against the fascist pigs.” Rozovsky turned to leave. “I shall leave you to complete your task. Remember to do your duty.”

Zhukov watched as the man left the room, and sneered. Arrogant jackass, he thought. We won’t be ready to fight this so soon, and it will result in the deaths of thousands… He turned back to the map, and began to task of trying to find a way to accomplish the impossible.

Year 14, Month 01, Day 23
Pskov Oblast
Getov-occupied Rarus Federation


Field Marshal Model watched from one of the observation decks of a space station as more of his forces began to leave the system. He had come here a few times since being assigned to this theater, mostly as a way to try and ease his mind from the stresses of command. However, he was feeling anything but at ease. Getov High Command had been moving forces from his area of responsibility and sending them to the fighting in the Ukrania. He watched as the last of the ships departed, disappearing into hyperspace, and couldn’t help but feel upset for the loss of most of most of his reserves. They were some of his most experienced formations, but the Rarus military in the Ukrania was proving to be far more difficult than the OKH had originally believed. He didn’t have full access to the information that was coming out of that theater, but he had heard enough. He also had his experiences from Earth to draw from, but he was confident that the superior abilities of the Getov military would overcome Rarus numbers.

Despite losing some of his core forces to the Ukrania Front, he knew that he was receiving some of the best equipped and motivated replacements in the Reich. Several formations of the Waffen SS had arrived in the system, with a few regular military to refill the losses during the Leningrad campaign. The shuffle had taken several days to complete, with himself choosing which ones would be replaced and when. Many of his subordinates had not liked that, but he didn’t care on whose toes he stepped on. He was glad to accept soldiers who were loyal to the Fuhrer, but he still had enough regular military to know that there could be problems with the known rivalry between the Waffen SS and regulars. For the moment, he was still waiting for the chance to move into the Leningrad system and take the system that had stood defiant in the face of those who had the right to take it.

Model heard the door open behind him and turned to see Komtur Dieter Kuhn walk in, his cloak flowing behind him. “General Model,” the Knight said curtly.

“Kontur Kuhn,” Model said with a nod. He had grown to respect the Knight more, but he still expected the man to obey orders like the rest of those under his command. “I take it that your meditations went well?”

“They did,” The former Jedi replied, giving Model a cool stare. “The Force is a powerful tool for those who know how to use it.” He walked up and stood next to him.

“You wouldn’t happen to have seen whether or not we will attack Leningrad in the near future?” Model asked, not really expecting an answer.

“I saw something,” the knight answered.

Model looked at the man with surprise. “I thought that the future could not be seen except by those who were experienced with the Force.”

Kuhn looked at Model, contempt on the man’s face. “I saw some sort of battle over a planet, but I couldn’t tell where. There were Getov vessels also that were firing at something, but again, I couldn’t see what it was.” He looked outside into space as several vessels moved by, and took a deep breath. “Something is on the horizon, but I don’t know what it is.”

“Surely a Teutonic Knight can discern what the future holds for us.”

The knight shook his head. “I was still a padawan on Coruscant when Hitler called for us to return to the Fatherland, but there were several lessons on the meaning of visions. Jedi Master Yoda told us that the future was always in motion and is difficult to know.”

Model had read up on the Jedi Yoda, and while he found the ancient and diminutive Jedi almost pitiful in appearance, he couldn’t deny that the creature was a very capable warrior. He had seen how the alien had stopped several attacks by himself, his small stature hiding the skills of an accomplished fighter. “So you are saying that even though that you can see the future, it can only be one of many possible events, correct?” he asked.

“That is correct, General,” Kuhn replied. “We can guess what may seem likely, but to use them as a basis for large scale operations is foolish. However, with leaders like Hitler and Heydrich guiding him, I think we will be well off.”

Model was beginning to believe that visions of the future were no better that those you would receive from a supposed fortune teller, so he changed the subject. “Some of the names that I suggested when you first arrived, how are the investigations going?”

A small smile came to the man’s face. “I cannot tell you how an ongoing internal investigation is proceeding, but I can say that there are several individuals whom the Gestapo has taken a keen interest in.”

Model couldn’t help by smile slightly. He knew that the July Plot would not doubt continue. Those in the OKH and OKW who would try to overthrow Hitler would be in for a surprise when their plan failed. “That is good to hear. Anyone that I know?”

Kuhn chuckled. “There might be a few that you know, or may have mentioned in the past, but that is all that I can say.”

“Well, I suppose we shall see what comes of that.” Model watched as several ships with the markings of the SS drifted past. He grabbed his comlink and switched it to the appropriate frequency. “Colonel, gather my staff.” he said, calling for his adjutant. When he heard the response, he began to yell. “I don’t care what those bastards are doing, but they are to meet at Force HQ in thirty minutes. We’re going to prepare for the final push to take the Leningrad system. If they can’t make it, then they can leave because I will make sure their ass is sent back to Getov Prime! Do I make myself clear?” When he heard the answer, Model placed the comlink back on his belt.

“Your staff giving you problems again?” Kuhn asked.

“It is nothing that I can’t handle,” Model said. “My staff doesn’t like me, that I know, but I don’t care. Result are all that matters, and if I have to send another message to the Fuhrer, then I will.” Model turned to walk away, but stopped and looked back at Kuhn who was still staring out into space. “Are you coming, or am I going to have to order you as well?”

Kuhn was silent and continued to stare out into space for a few more seconds before he turned to join Model. As they left the observation deck, the Knight contemplated the vision that he had, and wondered just who or what the Getov forces were fighting against.

Chapter Text

Year 14, Month 01, Day 25
Chin
Katanian-occupied Bamar


Captain Dokai Gemedi stood in the middle of a yard. Surrounding him were dozens of droids, from the standard B1 battle droid to the resilient B2 super battle droid. They were here to protect him, but to also serve as a deterrent to the many hundreds of Allied POWs that were in the camp that he was in. The camp had been set up by members of the Imperial Katanian Army, following a set of rules that the various sector powers had agreed upon years ago. While many of the POWs were still alive, their conditions were at the bare minimum, and many were showing signs of malnourishment.

A Katanian officer walked up to him. “Captain Dokai Gemedi, the prisoners have been assembled as ordered.”

“Thank you,” Gemedi said. Looking over the various Allied soldiers, he couldn’t help but feel anger. The planet was going to be lost soon, and soon the entire system would follow. The Allies had managed to bring in enough reinforcements to turn the tide in the system and the Katanian fleet was going to withdraw in the next few days. Most of the preparations had taken place over the last few weeks, but no one wanted the Allies to find out until the last possible moment. This defeat was just another humiliation that he had experienced at the hands of these barbaric nations. He did have to admit that they were very tough adversaries, but they also had none of his respect.

Gemedi began to walk toward the assembly, starting at the far end of the formation and passing each person at the head of each line. From the records that had been kept, there were close to three hundred Allied POWs in the camp, some of them officers while others were enlisted. There were those from Albion, their demeanor of arrogance he found annoying, especially for a backwater empire; those who were from Indou, servants of the Albion Empire and not better than cannon fodder, and he half hoped the Katanian push into Indou territory would produce an uprising that would cause even more problems for the Allies. He walked past several from Kunia, their appearance at first glance being submissive, but you could tell by the look in their eyes. There was pride, anger, and a patients that was not to be underestimated, but they were far too corrupt to be any serious threat. Then there were the Americans, who were his most hated nationality. They were naïve, a nation who thought they were fighting with right on their side, and were probably the most motivated fighters that he had encountered. When he reached the last row, he turned away and walked toward a platform that had been erected in fromt of the men. In front of the platform were several Katanian guards and droids, all of them with their weapons at the ready.

Gemedi took a deep breath and began his speech that he had been practicing for the past few days. “Soldiers of the Allies, I am Captain Gemedi of the CIS cruiser Defiler. I am here to inform you that we will be withdrawing from the system.” He paused for a moment to see how the prisoners took the news, and he could tell that he had their interest. “Your comrades have seemed to have found enough reinforcements to where I and the other Katanian forces will withdraw from the system entirely, to continue this fight at a different location. This brings a question that we have been pondering: What to do with all of you?”

Looking at their faces, he could see emotion beginning to show. Some were hopeful, while others were showing fear and suspicion. Good. “It has been decided by myself and the Katanian commander in this system that all POWs will be left here, and returned to your commands. We simply do not have the time or resources to move you, so all of you will become the responsibility of the Allies once again.”

After he finished this statement, there was a complete silence for several seconds, but soon many of the soldiers began to cheer. Some of them, hugging while others were slapping each other on the back. Gemedi let them do this for about a minute before he cleared his throat to get their attention. “However, since this camp is still far away from the front, it would be best if all of you stayed here until your comrades have arrived. Enough supplies will be left behind to ensure that all of you will be found by your comrades.”

As the prisoners began to congratulate themselves for surviving the fighting on the planet, Gemedi walked over to the droid commander. “Begin Protocol Ten.”

“Yes, sir,” the droid replied. As the POWs continued to revel over their eventual release, the droid sent a signal to several other droids that were on the outskirts of the camp.

Droids were not an uncommon sight, and when some began to emerge from the jungle, many ignored them, caught up in the celebration. However, some the soldiers began to notice the arrival of several droids that had appeared around the yard. These stood on tripod legs and where the hands would normally be, were instead a set of two twin blaster cannons. Before any of the prisoners could react, the droids opened fire into the crowd, killing dozens in the first couple of volleys. Others attempted to scatter, but the guardtowers began to open fire, followed by the Katanian guards who were in the yard. This went on for a few minutes until none of the Allied prisoners were left standing.

“Protocol Ten completed, Captain,” the droid commander reported.

Looking over the carnage that he had caused, he couldn’t help but nod in satisfaction as several of the Katanian guards began to move forward carefully and began to stab bodies at random with their vibrobayonets, ensuring that none of them were playing dead.

Gemedi turned and began to walk toward the gate of the camp. Waiting there for him was a shuttle with the commander of the camp standing there with two guards. When he was close enough, the Katanian bowed his head slightly. “Thank you for your assistance in this task,” the commander said.

“I was glad to lend assistance,” Gemedi replied. “They would have been far more hostile if it had been you to tell them they were being released. I take it that this is being repeated at the other camps that are still under our control?”

“Yes, Captain, they are,” the commander replied. “And I was to tell you that we welcome you allowing us to use your Destroyer Droids for this. It makes things easier.”

“Indeed it does,” Gemedi said with a slight smile. “I’m sure that you will be taking steps to hide what we have done here?”

Gemedi could see a hint of anger in the commander’s eyes that he was daring to question how the Katanians operated. “Yes, we will burn the camp down and then bombard it from orbit to hide any trace of them,” he replied.

“That is good to know. I will be on my ship if needed.” Captain Gemedi walked through the hatch and after a few minutes, the shuttle took off and headed toward the last of the Confederate/Katanian fleet in orbit.

Over the next seven hours, the Katanian and Confederate forces on the planet would destroy close to a dozen POW camps that were in Katanian-controlled territory. At all of them, Allied prisoners would be gunned down, and the camps burned and bombarded from orbit. Captain Gemedi watched as the last of the Katanian vessels approached the rally point, and for the second time in his military career, he retreated before a bunch of backwater nations in a fight they should have one. He swore that the Allies would pay for the humiliation that they had given him, and more, as the fleet disappeared into hyperspace.

Year 14, Month 01, Day 28
Allied-occupied Wewak Airfield
New Guinea System


Leaning against the ruined wall of a hangar, Captain Eustice Peterson stared at the Katanian soldier across from him. He could see the sun beginning to shine through one of the few intact windows, and he thought really hard about shooting the body again, but decided against it. The enemy soldier had been killed a few hours before, after a banzai charge had broken through the perimeter. It had been a tough fight, with much of it becoming hand-to-hand, but it eventually faded away before dawn. Besides, he wasn’t in any condition to fire his blaster rifle. He had taken a bolt in the leg during the last few hours of the enemy attack.

The whole fight for the planet had been nothing but slow progress. The terrain was unfavorable to most vehicles and the weather and creatures native to the planet almost killed more than the enemy. There were several instances where men would just disappear into the jungles and never return. Rumors would tell you that some sort of creature or ghost was in the jungle, but most figured that it was the Katanians. General Macarthur didn’t let that stop him, and continued to push the advance, and while it was slow, they managed to get some orbital support from the American fleet. Losses were still high though, and the Aurorian Army in New Guinea had lost almost half of their strength in this entire campaign.

The previous week, General MacArthur wanted the spaceport at Wewak taken, and the Aurorians had answered the call. The fighting to take it had been intense, with a high loss of life on both sides, but that was expected when fighting the fanatical Imperial Katanian Army. A few hours after the spaceport had been declared secured, the Katanians had launched a counter-attack. That had been three days ago and the regiment that he had been part of had been whittled away. Command had promised that relief would arrive, but so far, nothing had materialized. The few working comm units were able to report the status of the regiment, and it had been reduced to a couple of companies. He knew that they wouldn’t hold against another dedicated assault, and the worst part of it was that almost every officer had been killed or incapacitated over the last few days, meaning that he was in charge.

The company he had commanded at the beginning of the attack on Wewak was down to platoon size, all of them holed up in the hangar. One of the privates, crawled up to him, ignoring the body after a quick look. “Sir, the lookouts say they can hear activity in the jungle.”

Captain Peterson muttered a curse. He didn’t know if these were American or Katanian, but judging that nothing from command had arrived in his location, he was prepared to expect the worst. The remainder of his company, and the whole of regiment, were low on powerpacks for blasters, medical equipment, and food. If this was the final push, then it was all over. “Help, me up, Private, and tell everyone to get ready,” the officer said as he attempted to stand, using his blaster as an improvised cane.

Hobbling over to a window, he sat on some debris where he could see and fire. Peterson grunted as he lifted his blaster rifle and set it on the window sill, looking and listening for signs that the Katanians were about to charge. Staring out into the jungle, he could see that birds were beginning to take flight, and that could only mean that vehicles were coming up as well. Damn, he though. If the Katanians had managed to bring up armor, then they really were doomed.

“Here they come!” someone yelled.

Peterson tightened the grip on his blaster, and thought about the whole situation that he was in. He had joined soon after Katania began attacking his home and now, years later, he was about to be killed in some jungle under the command of General MacArthur. He had no problems about the Yank in general, but he had the feeling that the good general didn’t view Aurorians in the best of light. He could hear the sound of vehicles approaching, and the brush was beginning to shake until a vehicle emerged. Bringing his sights on it, he noticed that it wasn’t colored or shaped right.

“Hold fire!” he yelled. “Get on the comm and tell everyone not to fire unless I give the order!”

Turning back to get a better look at the vehicles, he could see that a couple of them were the Shermans tanks that were only just arriving in the theater. He could also see infantry moving up, their uniforms in the olive drab of the American military. As the tanks came closer, one of them stopped about fifty yards away from the hangar. He saw the hatch open and the tank commander stuck his head and shoulders out, as the main gun moved to point at the hangar that Peterson and his men were in.

“Are you guys the Aurorian regiment that we were supposed to reinforce?” the tank commander yelled.

Peterson was quiet, not sure what he was seeing was real. When one of the tanks fired a couple of bolts at an unseen target, he finally realized that this was indeed real. He stood up and waved at the tank. “Yes, we’re the Aurorians. Captain Peterson; I’m in command of this regiment.”

“Good to know that you guys are still here,” the commander replied. “We’re here to make sure that the Katanian bastards don’t try to take this spaceport. There’s a whole division coming up to secure the area. We’ll drive these bastards off the planet.” The tank began to advance again, accompanied by speeders and infantry as they moved to secure the spaceport.

Captain Peterson slid down the wall and shook his head in disbelief as the rest of his company began to pick themselves up. He had fought in some of the toughest fighting of his entire life, having spent most of his time fighting in the New Guinea System, and now the Americans were coming in to “save the day” as the saying went. He started to chuckle. His company was now a platoon of nineteen and he was commanding a regiment. He didn’t know what would happen next as the war progressed, but he knew one thing for sure: that neither MacArthur, nor the Americans would ever allow Aurora to forget about this.

Year 14, Month 01, Day 35
USS Enterprise
New Guinea System

Watching as two men stenciled three more guns and a red rising sun in his gunship. The hangar was filled with crewmembers at work as they launched and recovered of fighters, reloading weapons systems and refueling them for their next mission. No one, however, bothered the pilot as he watched. Lieutenant William Yates felt tears roll down his cheeks. These were not tears of sadness; these were tears of rage. Rage at the people who had taken his older brother away from him. “These are you for, Patrick,” he said to himself. “I promise that I will make every one of those bastards pay for what they’ve done. I swear it.”

He had grown up in Pittsburg, his father working in one of the large factories while his mother raised three children. They had never been wealthy, but they were happy, with Patrick, the oldest, being the responsible one and making sure his younger siblings didn’t get into too much trouble. Patrick had joined the Navy when he had turned eighteen and had been in for about four years, sending what money he could to help his folks out. He had made it a habit to always call his family a couple times each month to let them know how he was doing, and it had been during one of those calls that that they would see him alive for the last time.

On the eleventh day of the tenth month, of Year 11, the Katanian Empire launched a surprise attack on the naval base at Pearl Station. His brother had been talking with them on the vidcomm when the transmission had been suddenly cut, and it wouldn’t be until the following day that they would learn that his ship, the USS Arizona had been lost with most of her crew. It would be another few weeks before they would find out that he had been kill in the explosion. William had joined the following day.

Lieutenant Yates sighed as he wiped tears from his eyes. No one said anything. Everyone had been affected by that attack in one way or another. “I won’t ever forget.”

The missions that he had been taking part in were strikes on Katanian positions, and for the month that he had been fighting in the New Guinea System, he had over a dozen confirmed kills of Katanian gun emplacements and eight Katanian fighters and gunships. He was officially an ace, which wasn’t bad considering that he was the pilot of a vehicle that wasn’t designed to dogfight.

He felt a hand rest on his shoulder, and looked to his left to see his co-pilot, Lieutenant Benjamin Porter. “Are you alright?” he asked. He looked over at the stencils on their gunship, then back at his partner. He knew what the man was feeling. “Don’t worry. This is only the down payment. We have much more to go after. They’ll all pay.”

On the bridge of his flagship, Admiral Halsey watched as the last of the Katanian vessels disappeared into hyperspace. From what he could tell, a little over dozen vessels had escaped, but it was small compared to the number that had been captured at the Rabaul naval base. The count there had been twenty vessels of various classes. At the moment, it was unknown what would be done with them, but that was someone else’s responsibility, as were the navy personnel who had surrendered. .

In space, he watched as a flight of American fighters were launched, out of the hangar. Even though the Katanian fleet had fled the system, he maintained a constant CAP, along with a ring of frigates and destroyers around his fleet. He didn’t want a Katanian ambush catching him unawares. In the distance, he could see the planet New Guinea, and from the reports he was getting, the fighting was beginning to wind down. He received word stating that there were still several large holdouts in the deepest parts of the jungle planet. Those would be taken care of in due time, most likely by orbital bombardment, but if they had a large network of underground tunnels, then it would be up to the Marines to flush them out. That would be a long and perilous task, but the important part was that most of the cities and infrastructure was in Allied hands, or if you were asking Douglass MacArthur, his hands.

Halsey subtly shook his head in frustration at the thought of the arrogant Army General. Having to work with MacArthur was a constant headache, and took all of his patients, and some that he didn’t have, to not scream at the man for his actions and command style. The man thought that every idea of his was the next best thing since sliced bread, and while Halsey admitted that he was a good commander, but his pursuit for glory in battle was costing the lives of many. The American military was still recovering when he had begun his offensive on the planet late last year, and the Aurorian military had suffered heavy losses.

Halsey had provided what support he could to the many Allied advances on the planet, but the possibilities of a Separatist or Katanian attack had been a danger that he couldn’t ignore. The long supply chain that ran from the United Planets, to Hawaii, to the Solomons, and then to here was too vulnerable and he had needed to leave enough to ensure that his supply lines were secure. The Solomons were the key point, and he had been forced to leave a task force that was large enough to hold of an attack for reinforcements to arrive.

“Admiral, a message for you from General MacArthur,” the communication officer reported to him. “He says it’s a matter of importance.”

Halsey hid a grimace. He felt like he was about to head into battle whenever he had to talk to that arrogant jackass. “Put it on the main screen, Lieutenant.” Let’s see what that jackass wants. On the main screen, the hard weathered face of General Douglass MacArthur appeared. “What can I do for you, General?”

“Admiral Halsey,” he started off, “it is good to see that you have managed to drive the Katanian fleet away from the system. I commend you on your accomplishment. Now you can assist me in clearing some of the last holdouts on the planet.”

Halsey knew what the General was saying. MacArthur was belittling Halsey’s victory over the Katanian fleet and was saying that the Admiral was to follow his ideas. Well, Halsey wasn’t going to play that game. “Well, General, the task was very difficult, but even then we were able to provide you with the support you needed to claim victory on the planet. I know that there are several large holdouts on the surface, with several that are no doubt underground. I would have to guess that you want us to take care of those for you?”

The General’s face didn’t show much, but the slight pause showed that Halsey had guessed correctly. “I want your ships to conduct an orbital bombardment of several areas around the planet. These are known Katanian hold outs and they must be eliminated or reduced in strength to prevent problems later in the war. After the bombardment, my forces will move in and mop-up the stragglers.”

Halsey knew that MacArther wanted a glorious fight for his forces, and show that he was needed in this theater of the war. The Pacifica Theater was still considered a secondary front to the Joint Chiefs, with everyone focusing on Europa, and the way to gain more resources was to bring more victories to the table. That was MacArthur’s goal, and all it would result in would be the deaths of thousands. “General, I would have to recommend that the bombardment be followed-up with several strikes by my craft as your forces advance. This would allow for a lower loss of life. From what I’ve read, most of the formations under your command have suffered heavy casualties.”

“Despite the losses we have suffered, I am confident that those under my command will triumph in clearing out these last few holdouts,” the General said confidently. “I am in command of this operation, and this is my theater.”

Halsey could sense that the crew was trying not to pay attention to the conversation between the two of them, but he knew that he had to show that MacArthur, for all his prowess, was not as capable a commander as he believed. “I suggest that we send this to Admiral Nimitz, and let him have the final say,” he said finally. “It will allow for us to prepare for which choice he decides to go with.”

General MacArthur thought about it for a few moments before he answered. “Agreed, Admiral. We shall pass this to Admiral Nimitz. I will prepare a message immediately. Good day, Admiral.”

The main screen switched off and Halsey quietly calmed himself down. The man was infuriating, and telling him that New Guinea was his area of operations was the General’s way of trying to show Halsey who was in charge. This man will be the death of me, but I’m not going to allow him to launch an attack that will cost the lives of Allied soldiers.

“Captain Gardner,” he called out. The skipper of the Enterprise walked up to him, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Yes, Admiral?”

“Get your intelligence department together,” he said. “I want a plan to be ready if we do provide our allies on the planet with support. I want to know where the Katanians are, how many, what they have, and where we can hit them. We’re going to kill as many of those bastards as we can.

Chapter Text

Year 14, Month 02, Day 04
Apennine Mountains
Roma, Kingdom of Noria


Captain Xavier Frediani sat quietly in his tank as he watched the forest in front of him. The rest of his armored company watching from several rocky outcroppings, using what cover they could. He had all of his vehicles running on minimum power, wanting to reduce the chance of being detected by scanners. He had been fighting for over a week, and had lost close to half of his company. The supporting infantry was in even worse shape, but he was the last line of defense in this mountain pass. If they fell, it wouldn’t be long before Command HQ would be lost. Frediani took a deep breath and changed the settings on the scanner for different emissions, but so far, he hadn’t been able to locate anything.

“Sir,” a voice came over the unit’s comm, “This is Third Platoon.” Third platoon was one of the tank formations under his command. It was under the command of a Lieutenant Errico, and like most of his command, was down to half strength. “The Second Infantry Platoon is reporting that there is activity a couple of klics away. They don’t know what it is, but they think it might be the Albion formation that overran the defenses a few days ago. Do you want them to stay in position?”

Frediani thought about it for a moment. If he kept them out there, then they would be able to gather more information on who was coming, but it would result in him losing even more men to the enemy. “Pull them back. Have them keep ahead of the advancing forces, but tell them not to take any chances.”

“Yes, sir.”

The next hour passed quietly, with anxiety building up for the inevitable attack. When the infantry platoon arrived, they brought back more information. Apparently, the activity they had observed had not been the enemy, but instead friendly forces from another regiment that had been smashed the previous day. Frediani learned that it was Rommel himself that was leading the charge, and that caused all sort of problems. The Captain ordered for the wounded to be taken farther behind the lines to the aid station, while those that could still fight were to join his formations in defending the valley. With the new arrivals, they were almost back to full strength, but the news the survivors had brought with them was having a negative effect on the morale of his men. Fear was the main enemy of any army, and that was what his was beginning to feel. The hopelessness of everything. That he would probably lose this fight with Rommel leading the charge.

“Infantry approaching,” a voice reported on the comm.

“Don’t fire until I give the order,” Frediani commanded. “Unless we experience a large push, tanks are to remain quiet.”

In front of them, a field that was about a hundred meters across held a few wrecked buildings and a small stone fence. A few squads of men came out of the woods. Some of them getting down to one knee while another group would move further up. They repeated this move several times until several dozen soldiers were in front of them.

“Infantry: open up,” Frediani ordered.

The bolts from blasters could be seen being fired down range, and Frediani saw several soldiers drop from being hit. Others took cover behind whatever they could find. Shots were being returned and the infantry began to retreat back into the forest. Good, he thought. At least we bloodied their nose.

About ten minutes later, artillery began to fall. Most of it was where the infantry had fired from, but some landed close to the tanks. Frediani didn’t know if it was just bad aim, but he was sure that they didn’t know that there were tanks in the area. The barrage lasted for about fifteen minutes. This time, when the infantry advanced, it was accompanied with several tanks. The enemy vehicles began to move up first, followed by the infantry, and once again, his men didn’t fire until they were ordered. The tanks were allowed to come closer than the infantry before, and when Frediani gave the order, the few rockets that the company had were fired, hitting three of the enemy tanks.

“All tanks fire at will!” Frediani cried out. The cannon on his tank recoiled and he could see one of the tanks begin to belch smoke. “Hit! Sergeant, enemy tank eleven o’clock!”

The gunner changed the angle of the cannon. “Identified!”

“Fire!” Another bolt flew downrange, this one hitting one of the Shermans; its shield shimmered from the impact. “Again!”

The gunner was a step ahead of him and fired another, and another. Soon the tank was stopped moving and smoke began to rise from the vehicle.

“Good job, Sergeant,” Frediani said, patting the man on the back. There little time to celebrate, because the tank that was sitting next to them suddenly began to billow smoke. “All forces retreat! Back Pull back to secondary positions!”

The tanks and infantry began to pull away. Frediani was impressed actually, considering that the equipment that he was using was nothing compared to those used by the Allies. His men, despite the low morale, were performing well. Better than they had been in the year before the Allies had invaded. As his platoon was withdrawing, he caught something as he was watched the tanks advance. One of the Shermans were marked differently, and he recognized it right away. It was Rommel’s tank. All of the comm antennas showed that it had to be. The man had his head sticking out of the copula, and he could see the scarf that the man always wore.

“Sergeant, I think I see Rommel’s tank. One o’clock.”

The gunner looked down at the targeting computer and nodded. “I’ll be damned. It is the Desert Fox himself. Cannon is ready.”

“Fire!” The cannon recoiled as a bolt impacted the tank. Three more followed and the vehicle began to bellow smoke, showing that it was out of the fight. “Good job, Sergeant. Get us the hell out of here.”

General Rommel walked into his office smelling of combat. He had to admit, he thought that he was going to be bored in Noria after the front had stabilized, but instead, he was feeling pretty good. His current job was helping in training the Royal Norian Military, and he could see that they were suffering from pretty much the same problems that Italy had on Earth. Excellent soldiers, but their equipment was lacking in capabilities. Mainly, it was their ground forces, while the Navy was still a very capable force.

He shook his head as he took off the scarf that he always wore and placed it on the coatrack. Then sitting behind his desk, he pulled out a bottle of whiskey from his desk that he kept for purely medicinal purposes. Taking out a small glass, he poured himself a shot and looked at it as he held it in his hand. He thought about how he had been “killed” by that Norian captain a few hours ago, and he admitted to himself that he had become overconfident in the final parts of the exercise. Captain Frediani had managed three shots in quick succession before he could respond when the fourth had disabled his tank, essentially killing him in the exercise. Even though he had “died”, his command had broken through the defensive lines and taken the objective, and while it had been expected, the losses that they had taken were far higher than originally expected, and the Norian General Staff had taken it as a sign that things would gradually improve for them.

The whole training program had been suggested by Eisenhower, who had mentioned that the Italians had been one of greatest partners in the North Atlantic Treaty Alliance, and that this would be a good way to improve relations between the Allies and Noria and give them a much needed boost in morale. Rommel could see the results, and after a month of training and exercises, there were many formations who could be expected to take over some of the operations on the planet. While they wouldn’t be able to do any large offensive operations against Getov or those who supported Mussolini, they would be capable of holding onto the territory that was under the rule of King Emmanuel III.

A knock on the door pulled Rommel from his thoughts and back to the real world. After calling out for the man to enter, in came his adjutant, Major Alexander Mason. “Sir,” he said, saluting.

“Major,” Rommel acknowledged. “Care for a drink? It’s not every day that I die and return from the dead.”

Mason smiled slightly. “Well, I can’t turn down something like that, now can I, sir?”

Rommel pulled out another glass and poured a small amount of alcohol. He handed it to Mason who held it up in salute, with Rommel doing the same. When they both finished, the general went straight to the point. “So what do you have for me today?”

“I have a few reports for you, sir. I also have more detailed results on the exercise you did with the Norians for the past week, including those who performed exceptionally well,” Mason explained. “There is also a few messages for you from Montgomery and Alexander.” He handed Rommel the datacards. “Also, you have been invited to dinner with the commander of the Norian force you fought against. He says that you and your staff are more than welcome to celebrate a successful exercise.”

“Thank you, Major. I will be sure to thank him personally,” Rommel replied. “If that is all, Major, I would like to look over the mountain of datacards that I now have to sift through.”

“Yes, General.” Mason saluted and left the Rommel alone as he began the administrative part of his job. He worked for a few hours, by his best guess and he was about to call it a day when the videocomm on his desk began to beep. Thinking that it was probably General Alexander, he pressed the answer button, but instead of his superior, it was someone that he had not expected to see.

“Hello, General Rommel,” said Admiral Wilhelm Canaris, chief of the Abwehr.

“Admiral…?” Rommel was in shock. He had never expected to see the head of the Getov Intelligence branch. Especially on an Allied videocomm. “How…?”

“It doesn’t matter, Herr General,” the Getov spymaster explained. “What matters is that you and I have some things to discuss.”

Year 14, Month 02, Day 07
Allied Force Headquarters
The United Kingdom


Allied Force Headquarters was an enormous structure, located near the War Ministry in London. It housed the military leaders of the various Allied powers in the Europa Region of the sector, and served as a meeting place for the various dignitaries, officers, and politicians and held many conference rooms. The conference room that occupied today was one of the smaller ones, normally reserved for meetings with the a few commanders that were operating in the different areas of the Europa Theater, but today, it was being used for something else entirely. Within the room was every person that was known to have arrived in the galaxy after their death on Earth. Prime Minister Winston Churchill and Generals Eisenhower and Patton were there with him. Those who couldn’t be there in person would be present via videocomm, with these being Generals Alexander and Rommel, Admiral Cunningham, and there was also Senator Roosevelt, from Coruscant. This was the first time that all of them had been brought together, and that was done mainly to keep each other from interfering with one another’s tasks. However, the current situation at hand was something that all of them needed to be appraised of.

There was a silence that filled the room, as all of them were doing something to try and keep themselves calm. Most were smoking either cigars or cigarettes, but some would be showing some sign of nervousness: a drumming of the fingers, a tapping on the table, or maybe a small twitch. Eventually, Prime Minister Churchill stood from his seat and spoke up.

“Gentlemen, I have contacted all of you to speak with you on an important matter. One, that I believe, is far too large for any one, or few, of us to make on our own,” Churchill explained, his voice solemn. “We all know what could happen from our experiences in our past lives, but things are beginning to change. We saw evidence of this when Hitler began pulling forces back, and even now, they fight over the Ukraina, far later than they did on Earth. This matter, I will have General Rommel explain to us.”

Rommel stood and cleared his throat. “Three days ago, I was contacted by Admiral Canaris of the Getov Abwehr.” He could see the surprise on their faces, but he continued. “I don’t know how he managed to do it, or by what means, but he explained that he wanted talk with me about something important.” He took a deep breath before he continued. “He wanted to know what the removal of Hitler and other high ranking Nazis would bring about from the Allies.”

Everyone in the room looked at each other, but Roosevelt was the first to speak. “You are saying that he wants to remove Hitler from power?”

Rommel nodded. “The entire conversation was recorded, and it will be shared with all of you later, but to answer your question, Senator, yes, he and several others within the General Staff and government want to remove the Nazi government and place someone else in charge to bring about a ceasefire with us.”

The room was quiet, but Eisenhower asked a question. “If we make a separate peace with Getov, Stalin and those in the Rarus Federation may see it as a beach of the agreements that have been made last year, and that we are throwing them under the bus, so to speak.” He took a breath and continued. “If it was someone else in power in the Federation, we might be able to convince them that a ceasefire with them would save the lives of millions on both sides.”

“That won’t solve the problem with the damn Nazis,” Patton almost growled. “General Eisenhower has told me what happened after my death, and while Germany later became a great ally of ours, that was after…” He paused in though, then turned toward his superior. “What was the term called?”

“De-Nazification,” Eisenhower explained. “It proved useful, but that was after years of occupation and we can’t forget the fact that after we defeat Getov, we still have the Katanians to deal with and the Clone Wars to fight. From everything we’ve seen, it will be an even larger undertaking than anything we’ve experienced. We have to be careful how we deal with this.”

“So our main problem is what to do with this offer,” Alexander said finally. “Helping overthrow the Nazis will be a good short-term solution, but there are unforeseen consequences that could probably not reveal themselves until after the war.” He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “What sort of conditions would we consider acceptable if we did accept their surrender?”

Roosevelt spoke up. “De-Nazification would be a priority, as would the arrest and trial of all members of the Nazi government. That will be a difficult for Canaris and the other plotters to accept, and we know that there will be those who will attempt to escape are who will have their supporters.”

“Let’s not forget the Teutonic Knights,” Rommel pointed out. “Former Jedi who were members of the Getov SS are going to be extremely hard to track if we go along with this. We would need to find a way to neutralize them.” He turned to Eisenhower. “General Eisenhower, is there anything that our Jedi commanders can do to assist us?”

The General was silent for a few seconds before he answered. “I’m reluctant to ask her for advice on this. When she first arrived in the Sector, she was favorable to something akin to exile for the Teutonic Knights, but that left a very dangerous enemy out there in the galaxy,” he explained. “However, after seeing some of the reports on the actions of these former Jedi, I think she would be favorable of a de-Nazification program for the younger ones, and imprisonment for those who are older.”

“Military occupation will also be needed,” Churchill said. “It worked well on Earth, and afterward, Germany became one of our closest allies.” He looked over to Eisenhower and received a nod. “Reparations should be given to nations as well that have suffered under the occupation. That should placate some of the more radical politicians, but we still have a problem with how Stalin will react to this.”

“I say we hand them Hitler, Goebbels, Goering, and Himmler and allow them to parade them through Red Square and let them do whatever the hell they want to him,” Patton announced. “Should give those commie bastards something to be happy for, especially since they never got it on Earth.”

Everyone in the room was silent, surprised at the solution Patton had “proposed.” Eisenhower was the first to break the silence. “You know, George, you might actually have a point on that.” He showed a small smile. “I remember hearing that Stalin never truly believed that Hitler had killed himself after the war ended. But Stalin isn’t the only problem. If Hitler is overthrown, how will we convince the new government to accept our terms?” Turning to Rommel, he asked, “You knew of their plot. Do you know what their demands will be?”

Rommel felt uncomfortable about what he was going to say. He was a German patriot, and even though Getov wasn’t exactly the same as Germany, there were enough similarities that he felt a small attachment to the home of his doppelganger. However, these people he was sharing a room with were his new comrades and were giving him a second chance to make up for his past mistakes. Clearing his throat, he answered, “On Earth, I am positive they would want to have kept all of their territorial claims in Eastern Europe. They will no doubt want to do the same here.”

“Absolutely not!” Cunningham replied firmly. “That’s idiocy, especially with the Soviets and us bearing down on them, they thought they could negotiate with us as if they were in a position of strength?”

Rommel shrugged, and tried to explain calmly. “You have to understand that they are very proud, with the belief that the Treaty of Versailles was unfair and that they deserve to reclaim the territories they lost after the First World War.”

“While I do agree that the Treaty of Versailles placed an unfair amount of blame on Germany, the terms that Canaris and the other conspirators will never be accepted,” Roosevelt said, steel in his voice. “I don’t care if their national pride demands it. That war is over and this one is still going. They may think that they are in a position of strength, but that won’t be for much longer. The invasion and liberation of Floevis and the other nations will show them that they cannot make too many demands of us.”

“Polaine will never accept that either,” Churchill added. “They make up one of the largest fighting forces in the Allies, and they will never accept their nation once again disappearing from the Sector, and I fully agree with them. Osterreich (Austria) is something they can maybe keep, but that is only after it has been occupied and they are given the choice on whether or not to join or not, and Czechoslovak is going to remain independent.”

Cunninghim’s hologram looked over at Rommel and calmly asked a question of the former Getov general. “How are you supposed to get in touch with the Admiral Canaris with the new of our decision on the matter?”

Rommel shifted in his seat. He was beginning to feel uncomfortable about explaining everything, and how his new home may end up in a weaker position than he thought they deserved. “I was given an encryption that was he had set up specifically for something like this after my defection to the Allies. He explained that when I wished to contact him, he would receive a signal and would get back to me in fifteen minutes.”

“Good to know,” Roosevelt said as he puffed on his cigarette holster and steepled his fingers. “Churchill and I will work on terms that we want them to accept. General Eisenhower, your dealings with them after the war are valuable, and we would appreciate any inputs you can give us.”

Eisenhower bowed his head slightly, surprised that the greatest President that he had ever served under was asking him for assistance. “It would be my honor, Senator.”

“I will be sure to share this information with President Hull,” Churchill said as he place his cigar in an ashtray. “He may not be one of us, but he is still the President of the United Planets and needs to be appraised of this. He may have some other points that we may miss.” He looked over at Roosevelt. “What do you think, Senator?”

“That would be a wise decision. With the Clone Wars continuing around us, he may be able to convince Congress that this is a good thing, when it finally happens.” Roosevelt nodded in agreement and turned his attention back onto Rommel. “You will pass these terms to Admiral Canaris and the other conspirators. As you said, they will likely reject these terms, but they must understand that they are no longer in any position to negotiate. I’m sure that they will see our point when we begin the liberations.”

Rommel sat up strait. “I understand, Senator.”

“I hope that we do not have to worry about you giving them more information than you have to,” Admiral Cunningham said, giving Rommel a stern look. “They may appear to be the same people as you knew them on Earth, but this is a completely different situation.”

“There is no need to suspect General Rommel,” Patton said, coming to his fellow General’s defense. “He may be German, but he knows just how much Hitler and his cronies need to be removed. I trust the man with my life.” He gave the German a small smile and nod of support.

“If that is all,” Prime Minister Churchill said finally, “Then I suggest that we all return to our tasks at hand. This war is still far from over, and there is a chance that this could still fail. So I expect everyone here to do their duty to the best of their ability and not rest until this darkness is removed from Europa. Is that understood?” There were nods all around and after another ten minutes, everyone was dismissed. Holograms faded and people filed out, returning to their assigned tasks. The three that remained behind were Senator Roosevelt, Prime Minister Churchill, and General Eisenhower. Together, the three of them would begin the work for ending the war in Europa. However, no one was sure what they could expect between now and then, or what would happen in the Clone Wars as that conflict continued to develop. It would be a race against time.

Year 14, Month 02, Day 12
Former Getov Light Cruiser Köln
Outside the Warsaw System, Getov-occupied Polanie


General Tadeusz Komorowski stood on the bridge of the newest cruiser of the Free Polanie Navy. The vessel had originally been Getov, one of few that had been captured the previous year. The Gestapo and other Getov intelligence services had spent months attempting to find it, but all had been unsuccessful. Eventually they focused more on their fighting with the Rarus Federation, and less on their supply lines. He was hoping to take advantage of that by conducting more raids and building up for the inevitable uprising that the government-in-exile would want. He planned on making sure that it would be far more successful than on Earth, and try to gain more support from Albion and the rest of the Allies. He’d be damned if he was going to allow his adopted home to be occupied by the Bolsheviks.

“So, General, what do you think of Krakus the Great?” Lieutenant Commander Kolasa, the new commanding officer, asked as he finished looking over a datapad that had been handed to him a few minutes earlier. A big grin was on the man’s face.

General Komorowski raised an eyebrow. “You named it after Polanie’s dragon slayer? I didn’t even know that it was given a name yet.”

The Commander continued to smile. “There was almost a fight on what to name the damn thing, but I think some junior sailor chose to give it the name and it just stuck.” He looked out into space at the stars. “I think it’s fitting, a vessel that will slay the Getov dragon and protect the people. Plus, it will just infuriate that Fuhrer of theirs to no end.”

They both chuckled at the thought of Hitler going into an angry rant. “I must say that this fine vessel will do us well,” Komorowski replied, a small smile on his face. “When will she be ready?”

“If everything goes as scheduled, she should be ready in maybe twenty days,” Kolasa answered. “She may not do much fighting, but she will serve as the command ship for our raiders. We may be able to conduct a raid or two into Getov territory itself if we push our luck.”

The sound of the Getov home territories experiencing raids sounded pleasing to the General, but he removed his mind from such thoughts. “Let’s not be too anxious,” he said, assuredly. “We many have a powerful ships in our possession, but we cannot take unnecessary risks. We’ll continue to raid the Getov supply convoys that move through our territory. It’s the best way to continue to hurt them, and it provides us with entertainment.” He smiled. “How else will we hear the whimsical stories that Goebbels. The tales he puts out are almost better than those my grandmother told me growing up.”

Commander Kolasa laughed at that and nodded. “Indeed. I think they become more outrageous every time that man opens his mouth.”

The both of them were continuing to laugh when the door to the bridge slid open. Through the entrance walked in a young man, wearing the uniform of the Polanie Home Army, but with the patch of the Żydowska Organizacja Bojowa (Jewish Combat Organization) on his left shoulder. He performed a quick salute which was returned. “General, there is a message for you from Command in London. They say that they need to speak to you immediately.”

General Komorowski quickly glanced Kolasa to see his reaction and back at the Jewish officer. “Thank you, Major Anielewicz. I will see them in a few minutes.”

“Yes, sir,” Anielewicz replied. He turned to Commander Kolasa. “Commander, I really like being on this ship. There a chance that I could be on board when it finds some action?”

“Not sure,” Kolasa replied. “I’ll keep it in mind though.” When Anielewicz left, he looked over at the General. “You put him on your staff?”

“I did.” Komorowski answered curtly. He knew that anti-Semitism existed in the Terran Sector, and while it was never truly as bad it was on Earth, there were still those who looked down upon them. However, it wasn’t as prevalent and the anti-alien feelings that many held. “He was the one in command of the Jewish forces in the Warsaw ghetto, and despite what you may think of them, they are some of the most capable fighters and operative I have ever worked with.”

The General could see that the Lieutenant Commander had not been convinced, but had been put in his place. He inwardly sighed at the entire situation, and politely asked, “Commander, do you mind if I use your conference room to contact General Kazimierz Sosnkowski?”

There was a slight pause as Kolasa cleared his throat. “It should be good, General. I do not believe it is being used at this time for anything. We’ve also made sure that there are not tracking programs that the Getov military placed on it.”

“That is good to know, Commander. Thank you.” Komorowski did a slight bow and left the bridge. Outside, one of the members of his staff escorted him to the conference room, located close to the center of the vessel. Inside, there were other members of his staff, including Major Mortdecai Anielewicz. In the center of the holographic table was a full-body projection of General Sosnkowski.

“General Sosnkowski,” Komorowski said curtly as he saluted his superior; was quickly returned. “What can I do for you, sir?”

“I’ve been requested by General Eisenhower for you to use your black market contacts,” Sosnkowski answered. There was some distaste on the man’s face, but he continued. “He wants you to see if there are any technologies or items that could be used in neutralizing a Jedi. It needs to have the ability of not tripping their ‘danger sense’.”

Komorowski rubbed his chin in though, noticing that his whiskers were beginning to grow out. “Did he explain why he was wanting such things?” he asked.

The general shook his head. “He failed to explain the details with me, but he did explain that it would be paramount in future events. General Eisenhower mentioned that Getov’s Teutonic Knights were the main focus for this, but that was all that he shared.”

Komorowski thought for a few more moments. “I’ll get in touch with a few contacts that I have made. It may take some time, but I can let you know if I find anything, General” he explained. “Is there a specific time they would like this, if it does exist?”

“General Eisenhower said that by the middle of the year is the deadline if such a device exists, General,” Sosnkowski explained. “He didn’t say it, but he said that the United Planets and United Kingdom would be willing to pay anything so this must be for something important.”

“I will see what I can find, sir. Is there anything else?”

“No, that is all, General. Good luck.”

Komorowski saluted and the hologram faded. As he stood there, he looked around the room to everyone that was in there and nodded at Anielewicz. The Jew began to usher everyone out of the conference room, leaving the general alone. After a few seconds, he typed in a few commands on the pad infront of him, locking the door. He then took out a datacard and inserted it into his datapad. Taking out a small cable he attacked one end to his pad and the other at the holoprojector.

Can never be too careful, he thought as he pressed the CALL button. Several seconds passed as the call connected, and on the table appeared a familiar face. The man appearance was immaculate, despite being a smuggler, and the smile on his face was disarming. Komorowski was on guard all the same.

“Ah, General Komorowski,” Jorj Car’das said, a small smile on the man’s face. “To what do I owe this pleasure? Do you have another shipment for me?”

“No, I have a different task for you,” the general answered, getting strait to the point. “I have need for your contacts in finding something that will neutralize the abilities of a Teutonic Knight. Specifically one that won’t trigger their sense of immediate danger.”

The smuggler stroked his goatee, thinking about this new task. “That’s going to be a tough one, sir. What makes the Teutonic Knights so tough is their ability to use the Force, but they lack the restraint that the Jedi have. What you are looking for is something that will neutralize the Force itself,” Car’das explained. “That, my friend, is something that is not easy to come by.”

“So you are saying that nothing like that exists?”

“I’m not saying that,” the smuggler replied, holding his hands up in defense. “I just said that it would be difficult.” Car’das’ brow furrowed as he thought a bit more. “Give me a few weeks to contact a few friends and put out some feelers. I’ll let you know if I get a hint of anything like what you are looking for. If I do find something, we can negotiate on price afterward.”

“Thank you, Car’das,” Komorowski said, surprised that the smuggler had accepted, and even more so that he didn’t have to beg for it. “I wish you luck.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said with a smile and a wave of the hand. “Remember, I have no more love of the Getov government that you do at the moment. Anything that I can do to help in the fight against them, is a worthy goal in my book.”

Chapter Text

Year 14, Month 02, Day 19
The Senate Building
Coruscant, the Galactic Republic

Senator Roosevelt once again sat at his box in the Senate of the Galactic Republic. Right now, it was chaos in the Senate Chamber. The recent attack by the Separatists on the Coruscanti central power distribution grid had plunged the much of the planet into anarchy. That anarchy, had spread to the Senate, and right now, dozens of senators were shouting at the top of their lungs at the terrorist attack that had been committed.

“How dare they!” one senator shouted.

“They attack us and now they sue for peace?” shouted another.

He could see that Chancellor Palpatine was trying to get a hold of the situation, but so far, fear and anger were too strong for him to try and control.

“Chancellor Palpatine,” a calm but firm voice said. Roosevelt looked to see Senator Amidala take the floor. “Chancellor Palpatine, may I remind the senators that the peace proposal was made prior to the assault?”

“That only highlights its insincerity!” Senator Bar Gene retorted.

“Chancellor Palpatine, in light of this unprovoked attack on Coruscant, and the vulnerabilities it raises,” said Senator Burtoni as she addressed the chamber, “I propose that the Republic purchase another five million Clone Troopers.”

“The Republic is already operating in deep debt,” Senator Organa explained, as he leaned over the dais of his box. “How do you propose that we pay for these additional troops?”

“My people are drafting an emergency appropriations bill that would raise funds—”

“From the Banking Clan?” Amidala asked, her tone filled with disapproval.

“Yes, of course,” Senator Burtoni answered matter-of-factly. “Do you have an alternate means of paying?” She turned to look at Amidala.

“One alternative might be to stop the war, not escalate it,” she replied. The entire chamber was soon filled with shouts of “Traitor!” as dozens of Senators voiced their anger toward the person who had pushed for a peaceful solution between the Republic and Separatists. Other Senators who had supported the peace proposal shouted their support for Senator Amidala, but it only added more fuel to the fire. “Whoever attacked the power grid wants us to continue to fight. It’s a calculated attempt to destroy the peace process. Not everyone in the Confederacy wants this. I know this for a fact.”

“You have Separatist friends, Senator?” Senator Mee Deechi of Umbara asked coolly, and the Senate again erupted into shouting.

“Please!” Palpatine shouted. “The young senator from Naboo makes a valid point. This is no need to…” While everyone else was shouting and ignoring the Chancellor’s cries for calm, Roosevelt noticed that he had stopped speaking for a few seconds as the Vice-Chancellor whispered something into the man’s ear. “We have just received a message from our opponent: Count Dooku.”

The chamber soon quieted down and everyone looked up to see what the leader of the Separatists would say to them. In the center of the chamber appeared the image of the former Jedi as he addressed the chamber. “Your Republic forces have carried out a barbaric attack against our people. And among the dead was the very person responsible for the peace accord: Senator Mina Bonteri.”

That bit of news surprised Roosevelt. He knew that former Senator Bonteri was someone who had voluntarily joined the Separatists because of the corruption that was prevalent, but she had also been of the person responsible for pushing for a peaceful solution between the Republic and Separatists. It made no sense that the Republic would target her, and Roosevelt wondered if it was nothing more than a lie to cover it up.

“With her needless death,” Dooku continued, “I must formally withdraw the offer for peace drawn up by our Parliament.” His transmission ended and everyone began to callout for action against the Separatists.

Roosevelt had originally been on the fence about whether or not the war could be ended diplomatically, but if the after this bit of news, it seemed as though there were forces behind the scenes that were pushing for an escalation of the fighting. With Senator Amidala discredited and Senator Bonteri killed, there would have to something big coming if peace was being sabotaged. He would have to think more about this, and speak with some of the Senator that he trusted on the matter.

Meeting with the representative of the Intergalactic Banking Clan made Roosevelt feel uncomfortable. In his humble opinion, he looked like the alien version of an accountant, and even though their homeworld had been taken in the early parts of the war, they were still able to provide financial support to both sides of the conflict. Muunilinst was claiming that they were a neutral party, but Roosevelt knew that they were lying through their teeth, and had tried to push for the nationalization of their assets until the fighting could end. However, they had far too many people on their payroll and he had been blocked at almost every turn. He was sitting with Senators Amidala and her “uncle” Senator Farr, and he had made a point to smoke in front of the Muun. Even though both senators objected, he explained that it would be a small way of annoying the representative, and from the three time that the alien had glanced at him, he could tell that it was working.

“We will lend the Republic a loan at our standard interest rate of…” the Muun rubbed his fingers together as he thought for a few seconds, “twenty-five percent.”

Roosevelt choked as he was inhaling when he heard the number. “What!” he and Senator Amidala almost shouted.

“Twenty-five percent?” Senator Farr asked in disbelief. “That’s outright theft.”

“That’s more than double the standard rate you gave to the Republic previously,” Roosevelt responded angrily. He was clinching his hands and was tempted to punch this accountant across the face. “You have no right to charge the Republic that much interest!”

“Please, please,” the Muun said, calmly. “That was before deregulation. That same rules don’t apply, my dear.”

The deregulation of the banks was a recent event, in the wake of the loss of the central power distribution grid. It was a bill that had been put forward by Senator Gume Saam of Tibrin and had proposed that the Republic borrow money to help pay for the expansion of the Clone Army. That was a piece of legislation that Roosevelt had been firmly against and had spoken openly on the matter. A government couldn’t win a war by borrowing money from an institution that was supplying both sides, especially when it had Separatists leanings. When the final votes were to be tallied, it appeared that the bill would fail. The Separatists were suing for peace and it appeared that the Clone War would end. However, that was the day that the Separatists had attacked the power grid on Coruscant, and any hope at ending the war had vanished. What had resulted was a deregulating of the banks, and now the Republic was beginning to see the folly of that decision.

The Muun sat down. “The Separatists don’t seem to mind a rate hike. In fact, they just secured a loan to fund an additional… three million battle droids.”

“That will wipe us out,” Senator Farr said, with resignation.

“You would let Dooku do that?” Amidala asked. “You live on Coruscant. What will happen to you when he comes here with those three million battle droids?”

“We have no stake in this war, Senator,” the Muun explained coolly. “War is… distasteful to all of us.”

And I’m sure that your pockets are getting lined with credits on this sort of interest that you are getting, Roosevelt thought. He was really beginning to wonder who would be the winner in this war, and he had a feeling that neither the Republic nor Separatists would come out much the winner if things like what was happening in front of him continued.

After meeting with the Banking Clan representative, Roosevelt and the others came to Organa to tell him what they had learned. “Twenty-five percent interest?” Senator Organa said with shock. “That’s a lot of credits.”

“The interest alone could bankrupt the Republic” Roosevelt explained. “I’ve had my droid do some math, and from what he explained to me, that single loan would take decades to pay off, not to mention if we took out more than one. The Banking Clan could essentially own the Republic.” He pulled out his cigarette holder and began to smoke. He needed to try and calm his nerves and try to think. He was seeing that Senate was far more dynamic than anything that he had experienced before, and he was still trying to learn the ins and outs of it all.

“Social services are already suffering because of this war,” Amidala added. “Education, infrastructure, and healthcare have all been cut. If we go deeper into the red, then we won’t be able to provide anything to the people. How can we help those who are truly affected by this war if we are having to give everything to the Banking Clan?”

“This is good,” Senator Organa said.

“It is?”

“Clearly, taking out a loan on such obscene terms would essentially destroy the Republic, regardless of the outcome of the war,” he explained. “We only need to swing a handful a Senators to our cause. As long as they don’t buckle to the threats.”

“What threats?” Amidala asked.

“From what I’ve heard, several Senators have been threatened to not vote against the bill,” Roosevelt explained. “I myself have received a few, but my security detail has been on higher alert since the bombings, and they assure me that nothing will happen to me or my wife. I would recommend that you two be ready as well. Usually when verbal threats don’t work, they tend to get more physical.”

“And considering what happened to your friend Bonteri, they’re frightened,” Organa added.

“What’s the galaxy coming to when thugs are used to change votes,” Amidala exclaimed, walking to the window to look at the skyline.

“It’s the war, Seantor,” Roosevelt explained. “It’s a nasty business, but even in the Terran Sector, it’s never been as bad as this. It makes me wonder on who is behind these threats.”

The following day, Amidala was speaking with several Senators who were still on the fence on the bill. “Can’t you see that this bill is short-sighted?” Amidala asked. Roosevelt could see that several of them were showing injuries from recent attacks. “Five million clones will not win this war. The only winner will be the Banking Clan. They want to pass this bill so badly, they are using scare tactics to sway votes.”

“I am not intimidated, Senator Amidala,” Tarnab Senator Mot-Not Rab explained. His arm was in a sling from an attack the previous night

“Then why are you voting for additional troops?” she asked.

“I happen to believe that more clones are precisely what we need,” he explained. “And my caucus agrees with me.”

“Don’t you see that this bill will ruin the Republic?” Roosevelt asked. “How will we pay off a loan with twenty-five percent interest?”

“That is a problem for another time,” the Tarnab Senator replied. “I’m sorry, but I have to do what I think is right.” Soon he walked away, and the other followed suit, leaving only Senators Organa, Roosevelt, and Amidala.

Roosevelt couldn’t believe the short-sightedness of some of these Senators. They would simply pass the problem off to the next person until things are too bad to ignore. He prayed that something like that never happened in the American Senate, otherwise things could get ugly real fast.

As the three of them began to walk away, they all saw Senator Farr walking toward them, his arm in a sling. “Uncle Ona! What happened?”

“Two thugs jumped me last night,” he explained. “But, I am fine.”

“Did you manage to get a good look at what they looked like?” Roosevelt asked. “They may be part of the group who have been assaulting Senators.”

“Unfortunately, I did not. It was too dark, but this will not change my mind,” Farr explained, and he began to walk to his office. “No matter what, I will vote against the bill.”

“A person of strong moral character,” Roosevelt said as he watched the Rodian walk away. “People like him are too few in a war like this. We need to stop this bill, otherwise everything that the Republic stands for will disappear.”

At the end of the day, everyone had left for home. Senator Organa was preparing to address the full Senate and Seantors Amidala and Farr were going to the residents of the various senators who were still on the fence. Roosevelt had driven himself, something that his security detail had been against, but he had been adamant about it. He had allowed them to follow him, but he wanted to drive his speeder, and it also gave him time to think about the bill. Maybe he would bounce a few ideas off Eleanor and see if she could come up with anything. As he parked, he could see the relief from his Secret Service detail as they began to fan out.

“Excuse me!” someone shouted from behind them. Everyone looked to see an alien sitting on a speeder bike. “You’re Senator Roosevelt, right?”

Roosevelt could see that some of the agents, but he cautiously walked closer to the alien. “Yes, I am.”

“That’s a nice place you have,” the alien said, giving him a small smile. “Your wife there as well?”

Franklin began to tense up a little. Normally, an average citizen wouldn’t ask about his wife unless she was there with him.

The silence was all that the alien needed and the smile he had begun to turn sinister. “A man like you should be careful, if he doesn’t want anything to happen to her.” Before the agents could react, the bike sped away into the night.

“Are you alright, Seantor?” one of the agents asked, walking up to him.

“I’m fine, James,” Franklin assured him. “Just remind me to start training and carrying a blaster with me from now on. I have a feeling that I will need it in the future.”

Roosevelt had learned that that Senator Amidala had been chased and almost killed last night by two hired mercenaries, possibly working for the Separatists, and that was only adding to the hectic day that he was having to deal with. He was glad that his Secret Service detail was always vigilant, but he knew that they couldn’t be everywhere, and he was making it a point to learn to shoot with a blaster pistol if the need came. Right now, Amidala and Farr were preparing for Organa to address the Senate when the both of them had learned that he had been attacked at his garage. He had survived and the mercenaries caught, but he was in bad shape and would need to go to the hospital and would be unable to deliver his speech. Organa had told Amidala that she would have to deliver it.

Roosevelt was unsure on this decision. While Senator Amidala was a good speaker, and was someone who spoke regularly for the plight of the people, the recent events of the failed peace process with the Separatists was something that he worried about. He had offered to deliver the speech instead, but she had been adamant on the subject. She would address the full Senate.

That was where he was now. Senator Burtoni’s box was floating in the idle of the chamber. “Perhaps we should have the votes started?”

“I told Senator Organa that I’d allow him to speak,” the Vice-Chancellor answered firmly.

Roosevelt saw a few senators voiced their opinions on waiting, saying that the vote should be done immediately, without the speech that Amidala would be giving.

“Then let us vote on Senator Burtoni’s bill to fund five million additional clones,” the Vice-Chancellor said finally.

“The opposition of this bill must be allowed to speak first,” Senator Mon Mothma protested.

“Unfortunately, Senator Organa is nowhere to be found,” Senator Deechi explained.

“I will speak on his behalf,” Amidala announced, walking into the chamber. Her box detached from the wall and floated into the room.

“Senator Amidala will be permitted to speak,” the Vice-Chancellor declared.

Roosevelt could see Amidala take a deep breath as she began to address the Senate. “Tekla Meeno,” she started. “Tekla is one of my aides. Like so many of the people we tell ourselves we are here to serve, Tekla lives in a district that barely has electricity and running water, as a result of the war. Her children can now only bathe every two weeks, and they have no light, from which to read or study at night.” She paused slightly to look around the chamber. “The Republic has always funded these basic services, but now, there are those who would divert the money to the war, with no thought for what the people need to survive. If not for people like Tekla and her children, then who are we fighting for?

Roosevelt saw that several Senators were beginning to sit down and pay attention to the young senator as she continued to speak. “My people, your people, all of our people; this war is meant to save them from suffering, not increase it. I support our brave soldiers, whether they come from the clone factories or from any of the thousands of the systems loyal to the Republic, but if we continue to impoverish our people, it is not on the battlefield where Dooku will defeat us, but in our own homes. Therefore, it is our duty and our responsibility to preserve the lives of those around us by defeating this bill."

Applause began, as several sections of the Senate began to praise the speech that Amidala had given. Roosevelt could see that there were several who were only clapping out of politeness, many were showing sincerity. He himself was one, a small smile on his face as applause began to fill the chamber. A true light in the darkness, Roosevelt thought. After the speech had been given, the Senate was given a brief recess to consider the words of Amidala. The response to her address was encouraging, and many were beginning to hope that Amidala’s words would convince everyone that the loan was a terrible idea.

“Truly, you have turned the tide,” Senator Farr said, raising his glass in a toast. Everyone had gathered in one of the many offices that were attached to the Senate building for an early celebration. Personally, Roosevelt thought it was a bit early to be celebrating a victory, but reactions in the Senate had him optimistic, something rare for his experiences on Coruscant.

After he took a small sip from his glass, Mon Mothma spoke, “My dear, you were brilliant.”

Amidala smiled at the praise. “Thank you, but perhaps we should wait until after the vote before we make a victory speech.” She placed the glass on a table and a worried look came to her face.

“What a novel idea,” a voice said behind them. Everyone turned to see Senator Burtoni standing in the entryway. “Imagine that.” She began to walk toward them. “Amidala is actually making sense for once in her life.”

“Senator Burtoni,” she replied curtly. “This is a private conversation.”

“Private conversation or Separatist conspiracy?” Burtoni asked with ice in her voice.

Everyone in the room bristled at the mention of them betraying the Republic. Roosevelt then spoke up, “Senator, I can assure you that there are no Separatist conspiracies happening here. I would be careful who you choose to threaten with such words.”

“We wish to end the war,” Representative Lolo Purs said firmly.

“Sending more troops to the frontlines will not allow for diplomacy to resume,” Amidala explained, standing her ground against one of the newest, and powerful, Senators in the Republic.

“Diplomacy failed the Republic long ago,” Burtoni said coolly. “Might I remind everyone in this room that it was a friend of Amidala’s that was responsible for the supposed ‘peace talks’ to end the war? We know that it was nothing but a trick to strike at us.”

“That’s not true,” Senator Organa replied. “Republic agents say that she was killed because of wanting peace and that the strike against the power grid was to disrupt the peace talks.”

“So you say,” Burtoni said, giving Organa a glance. “But the military can be wrong.”

“Senator Burtoni,” Farr said finally. He had been quiet through most of the exchange, but his voice was filled with an inner strength. “The Kaminoans may have bartered their creation of the clones into a seat in the Galactic Senate,” he walked toward the senator, as she began to back away, “but this does not give you free reign. Thank you for visiting, Senator. We would like to continue our meeting, if you don’t mind.” He motioned toward the door.

“Enjoy your moment in the light, Senators,” Burtoni said finally, “this war will not end soon.” She soon left the room, the door closing behind her.

“Well, we must be doing something right if we rattled Senator Burtoni,” Amidala said finally.

“She’s new to the game, Admidala,” Roosevelt explained. “She’s basking in the power and sees herself as something akin to nobility. Anything that could possibly threaten her powerbase: she will see as a threat, and will probably do anything to protect it.”

“What truly matters is that we have made great strides against this bill,” Mon Mothma said, trying to set everyone at ease. She turned Senator Farr. “You have done an amazing job at leading this effort.”

Roosevelt was still trying to get used to recognizing the body language and quirks of the different aliens in the Senate, but he was sure that he saw Farr flush a little at the praise. “I’m just trying to do what is right.” He let out a sigh. “I only wish that I had tried to do that a long time ago.”

Roosevelt placed an assuring hand on the Rodian’s shoulder. “We all make mistakes. What we have to do is learn from them, and try to make up for them. That’s all we can do.”

Farr smiled, and Senator Organa raised a glass to toast. “To victory, and an end to this war.” Everyone followed suit and took sip.

Roosevelt had to admit that these various alien beverages were something that he had grown fond of. The people of Alderaan had a very interesting lineup, and he was curious just what other kind were in the galaxy. He would have to expand his tastes, and maybe invite his wife sometime to enjoy some of what the galaxy had to offer. He heard a grunt beside him and he saw Senator Farr begin to sway.

“I feel… a pain in my chest,” Farr gasped, placing a hand on his shirt. “My… heart…”

“Uncle?” Amidala asked, concern slipping into her voice. She watched as Senator Farr dropped his glass and fell to the floor. “Uncle! Someone get help!”

Two days had passed since the death of Senator Farr, and everyone was in a somber mood. The platform that held the transport to take his body to his homeworld was filled with several senators, those who supported and opposed his actions, a few Jedi, including Masters Mace Windu and Yoda, and even Chancellor Palpatine himself had joined them in this farewell address. The eulogy was being given by a Rodian. Who it was exactly, Roosevelt didn’t know or care. He had been in the Senate for less than a year and while many of the Senators were sometimes worse than those who had served in the American Congress, Farr was one of the few who had stuck to his principles, and did everything he could for the betterment of his people, and the Republic.

As his body was taken aboard the transport, it was escorted by two of the Chancelor’s Guards, and it reminded Roosevelt of the military funerals that he had attended in his younger days. Memories sprang up of the funeral of Theodore Roosevelt, and while he didn’t agree with many of his distant relative’s ideas, he did respect the man, as he respected Senator Farr. As the transport took off, he saw Senator Organa, trying to reassure Amidala.

“We need to get his resolution passed,” she said. “It’s what he would have wanted.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt all of you,” said one of the Chancellor’s guards as he walked up to them, “But Chancellor Palpatine would like to speak with all of you immediately.”

Reluctantly, everyone followed, and they were soon in the Chancellor’s office. As they walked in, they could see several Coruscanti police, all of them talking with Palpatine.

“What’s happening?” Amidala asked.

“I’m afraid that my friend, Lieutenant Divo, has some questions to ask about Senator Farr,” Palpatine answered. He turned to show a human who was walking down the stairs. The man was of average height, hair slicked over to one side, and had a belly that seemed to show that he spent too much time sitting behind a desk. He also wore the uniform of the Coruscanti Security Force.

“Do you know of anyone who, uh… hmm. How to put this… Hated Senator Farr?” The voice of the man was nasally, and somewhat snobbish, from Roosevelt’s observations. “Enough to kill him?” He looked at everyone in the room, as if expecting someone to confess right then and there.

“What?” Amidala asked in shock. Everyone else was surprised as well.

“I will need to know whoever wanted to hurt Senator Farr,” Divo said as he turned to look down at a datapad he was holding. “Kill him is what I would prefer, though. What with him being dead and all.”

“No one wanted him dead,” Representative Purs said, sitting down.

“Well, it seem that you are wrong on that, considering that he’s, you know, dead,” Divo pointed out.

“Lieutenant, even Farr’s political enemies respected him,” Organa explained. “We need time to deal with this situation.”

“Time? Time?” the officer asked. “There’s no time for time. A murder is on the loose and it’s my job to find him.” The man began to mutter himself, likely trying to figure out who would commit murder on a senator.

Amidala cleared her throat. “What makes you think that it was murder?”

“Poison. The politician’s preferred killing method,” he answered, rather matter-of-factly. “We found a chemical in his bloodstream that killed him right away.” He began to walk around the room. “It’s an obvious case: politicians always have something to hide and it comes back to haunt them.” Divo stopped to look at the gathered senators “Am I right?”

No one answered, and Roosevelt was beginning to lose faith in the man’s ability to solve the case. This man has read too many pulp fiction books, he thought.

“Oh right,” Divo continued. “I forgot I’m talking to a room filled with politicians.” He continued his walk. Around the chamber. “One of Farr’s secrets must have resurfaced.”

“Ono had no secrets,” Amidala replied confidently. “That’s not it. Perhaps someone was upset about the military enhancement bill that we were going to vote on.”

“Thank you, Senator,” Divo said dismissively, “but I already have my theory and I will follow my hunch on this.”

Roosevelt cleared his throat before speaking. “Lieutenant, perhaps some of my Secret Service detail could assist you in such matter. It is their job to protect me and they could prove useful to your investigation.”

“That’s not necessary,” Divo replied as he walked toward the door, glancing over to Roosevelt and showing very little interest in the offer. “I don’t need any Terran assistance, and for all I know, you could be the one responsible. I am the inspector and all of you are senators. Leave the investigation to those who know how to do it.” He turned toward the Chancellor and gave a respectful bow before leaving.

“Murder…” Palpatine said after the Lieutenant left. “It’s just inconceivable. All of you may leave, but I am sure that the good Lieutenant will want to keep in touch with all of you.”

“Thank you, Chancellor,” Organa replied, and the group left.

As the five of them were walking down the corridor, all of them were wondering about the murder of their friend and colleague. “Who would wish Onaconda harm?” Mon Mothma asked.

“It could be the bill,” Purs said. “It could be that we are all targeted.”

“Speculation gets us nowhere,” Organa said. “There is work to do. We must double our efforts on the vote. It will be even harder with Ono gone, now.”

“No. No,” Amidala said finally. “We should delay the vote.”

“But why?” Motham asked.

“No one will want to vote until they know what was responsible for this,” Amidala explained. “Senators on both sides will be afraid because they won’t know if they are next. A delay is for the best.”

“Well, I could put a motion on the floor,” Organa replied “Like you said, Padme, no one will want to vote until the culprit is caught.”

“Good,” Amidala turned to face the others. ”Then we will have time to conduct our own investigation.”

“Lieutenant Divo specifically stated that he did not want us interfering in his investigation,” Mon Mothma explained.

“I don’t mean any disrespect, but I have seen rookie cops in my city that show more sense than that man,” Roosevelt replied, crossing his arms. “He’s seems set in his theory that it was his past coming to haunt him, but that something you don’t do in an investigation.”

“Running around could disrupt the coalition that we have worked so hard to build,” Organa said, worried. “We will have to tread carefully.”

“But you seem determined to see this though, Padme?” Mon Mothma asked.

“I do,” she replied firmly.

“Then I don’t suppose that you will consider taking Commander Typho with you?”

Padme shook her head. “I can’t. I want to keep this quiet and under wraps.”

“Then perhaps Senator Organa can accompany you instead?” Mothma suggested.

“I also suggest that you take a few of my Secret Service detail to accompany the two of you,” Roosevelt urged. “With the recent threats and assaults on Senators, it would be best to have some extra muscle with you. They are good at being discreet, and could help find clues to solving this murder.”

“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Bail said, nodding in agreement.

“I don’t need a guardian,” Padme protested.

“You’re taking at least two with you,” Roosevelt replied firmly. “It should be more than enough to deter some of the more foolish beings out there, and while you two are doing that, Senator Mon Mothma and myself will try to keep the coalition from fracturing.”

Amidala looked upset, but Roosevelt could see that she knew she couldn’t win against this argument. “Very well, I will take a few.” She began to walk toward the door. “And I have a few ideas of where to start looking.”

It was late at night, and Special Agent Andrea Price of the United Systems Secret Service didn’t like her current assignment. She was babysitting Senators Organa and Amidala, a personal request from Senator Franklin Roosevelt, and while she normally would take a bolt for the guy she was a little more reluctant to take it for a couple of Senators who wanted to play Private Investigator.

She had to admit though, that the murder of Senator Farr was interesting, and the first two people that Organa and Amidala had gone after were Senators Burtoni and Deechi, both whom had greatly opposed Farr’s push to try and find a diplomatic end to the war. Their “interview” with the two senators had revealed the Farr had a secret meeting with someone at the docks they were currently at, the night before he had died. It was a thin lead, but it needed to be followed through and so here they were: herself, Senators Organa and Padmen, and Secial Agent Robert Jackson.

As the four of them walked around, Senator Organa spoke, “Remind me to thank Franklin for sending the two of you along. This is way too out of our element for us.”

“Glad to help out,” Jackson answered. “I just wish we could have more people here with us. I hate being so alone.” He checked his Thompson sub-repeating blaster for the sixth time since arriving.

Both Senators had their blaster pistols out and they walked through the maze of cargo containers. There was a strange mist hugging the ground, and it gave the entire area an eerie feel. Price didn’t like it at all and again wished that they had more back up.

As they continued to walk the various passages, Bail said, “Using this investigation to burry you grief might not be the best—”

“I’m not,” Amidala cut him off.

“Then why can’t you leave it to—”

“Look out!” Price shouted, and shoved Amidala out of the way as a shipping container fell where they had been standing only a few second before. A second later, blaster bolts were fired at them. As she reached for her blaster, she saw that the bolts were coming from above and behind them. Grabbing her Thompson, she bent around a corner and fired a quick burst, followed by a series of shots from Senator Amidala.

She caught only a small glimpse of their attacked, but they were wearing a cloak and standing on top of several containers as he began to dash across them. Amidala soon took chase, with Price following closely behind. “Jackson, are you ok?” she asked over her comm.

“I’m fine, and so is Senator Organa,” he answered. “What happened?”

“Shots fired,” she answered, chasing after the young senator. “We are in pursuit of our attacker. Call for back-up!”

Having finally caught with Amidala, Prince began scanning the tops of the containers. “Senator Organa and Jackson are okay, and back-up is on its way.”

“Good to hear,” she said, pausing at a corner. As the senator glanced around, a bolt hit the container, causing sparks to fly. Reacting quickly, the both of them returned fire, causing their enemy to run in the opposite direction, and they continued the pursuit until they came to a dead end. As the two of them looked around, a bright light came up behind them, and the two of them turned with their weapons raised.

“Don’t shoot!” Senator Organa shouted, raising his hands.

“Look out!” Jackson exclaimed as their target fired several bolts down toward them. The four of them returned fire, causing their assailant running away again and them chasing. After a few minutes, they reached the edges of the dock and no sight of whoever they were chasing.

“Where do you think he went?” Jackson asked.

Andrea was about to answer when one of the containers beside them slipped out of its holding, causing Organa and Jackson to go over the ledge. Both had managed to grab hold of the platform and were trying desperately not to let go. Looking to her left, she could see the assailant run into the shadows and silently cursed as she and Senator Amidala ran over to help their friends up off the ledge. When they managed to bring them up, sirens could be heard in the distance, and all four of them knew that their investigation that night was over.

Roosevelt and the other senators, along with Chancellor Palpatine, were all standing in the Chancellor’s office. When he learned that Organa, Amidala, and the agents he had loaned them, he had to pull a few strings to get them released. It was a small embarrassment to not only himself, but to the Secret Service, and Amidala and Organa, and he was unsure what sort of political ramifications could result from this in their fragile coalition.

At the entrance to the chamber, Lieutenant Divo walked in, handing a datapad to the small droid that was usually always accompanying him. “The killing is obviously targeting the leadership.” It had been only a few minutes ago that he had learned that Senator Deechi had been murdered in his office, stabbed through the heart. It all sounded like something out of a bad detective story to Roosevelt, but he was living it right now and was unsure on what could happen next, and Lieutenant Divo’s abilities didn’t ease the tension that he was feeling. “All of you must stay here under my protection,” he explained.

“Why?” Purs demanded, getting up from her seat. “So that the killer can get to all of us at once?”

“Oh that’s preposterous,” Divo said, waving a hand dismissively. “Even if the killer did manage to get through my security, it is very unlikely that all of you would end up dead.”

That did not make Roosevelt feel any better, and Purs agreed with his thoughts. “We are far too much of a target sitting here,” she replied, waving a hand to encompass everyone in the room. “I am leaving!”

“No, don’t!” Amidala said, grabbing Purs by the arm. “You can’t leave. I think Lieutenant Dive may be right in this instance.

Purs shook her head in disagreement. “Out of my way!” she said, pushing Divo and leaving the room.

Divo stopped one of his droids from preventing her from leaving and let out a sigh. Turning to the others, he asked, “Who else knew that you were going to the docks?”

“Just Senator Burtoni,” Amidala answered. “She was the only one who was in the room with us.”

“Burtoni, eh?” Divo muttered as he rubbed his chin in thought. He turned to leave the room, followed by his droids.

When he had gone, Roosevelt shook his head. “I don’t know if Burtoni would have a role in this,” he said. “It’s just doesn’t make since that she would have Farr killed, even with the bill, it wouldn’t take much for her to rally support for a piece of counter legislation.”

“We’ve done the best we could,” Senator Organa said. “All we can do now is hope that Divo’s investigation finds something.”

“I had to try,” Amidala said. “Ono believed that if you see injustice, then you can’t wait for someone to fix it. You must stand up, and get involved”

“And sometimes you can’t rush into something without planning,” Roosevelt explained. “You need to try and find the best moment to do something, otherwise, your efforts could be for nothing.”

The door opened, and in ran a screaming Purs. Grasping a colomn, she was out of breath and trying to stand on her own feet. “Help,” she gasped. “I have been attacked.” She pointed into the corridor. “She’s down there… She tried to kill me!”

“What happened?” Mon Mothma asked, walking up to her friend and trying to steady her.

“Senator Burtoni,” Purs explained. “She jumped me. She’s in the East Wing corridor. Hurry!”

Having heard the scream, Divo and his security droids and returned to see what had happened, and having learned of another murder attempt, Divo had leapt into action. “Guards: Go!” Divo ordered, and after a few minutes, in walked Senator Burtoni, her hands in cuffs and escorted by two guards.

“You’re insane,” the Kaminoan protested. “I didn’t kill anyone. Last thing I remember: I was walking to my office and then I woke up here.”

“Representative Purs has a different story,” Divo said, pacing in front of her. “She says you attacked her.”

“Attacked her?” Burtoni exclaimed, surprise, either genuine or fake, Roosevelt, couldn’t be sure. “Lolo?” She looked over to the Rodian, who backed behind Mon Mothma, and began to chuckle. “If I ever attack someone, I hope that it will be someone… mildly important.”

What a cold-hearted bitch, Roosevelt thought. He was surprised at just how different the people from Kamino were from others he had encountered.

“Someone like… Senator Farr?” Divo asked accusingly, looking at Burtoni out of the corner of his eye.

“Ono was a harmless insect, and I wouldn’t dare bother killing him. He was far too useful as a propaganda tool for myself and my supporters, including Senator Deechi.”

“I’ve got a theory on that,” Divo said turning around waving a finger in the air. “I’ve been thinking about how you were in Senator Amidala’s office just prior to Senator Farr’s death.”

“So what?” Burtoni shrugged.

“And I’ve been thinking how you were in Deechi’s office to hear about that meeting at the docks. A meeting that I think Farr had with you,” Divo said, pointing an accusing finger at Burtoni.

“It wasn’t me!” the Kaminoan protested. “You have no proof!”

Divo got a smug look on his face as he handed his datapad to his droid and took another. “Oh really? I had forensics do a detailed analysis of the poison used to kill Farr. The poison only affects Rodian blood, and is made only on Kamino.”

“But… That’s… I didn’t…” the Kaminoan was beginning to stammer.

Roosevelt was impressed. Perhaps I was a little too critical of Divo after all, he thought.

“You’re Kaminoan, and you access to the poison,” Divo declared. “That’s motive, means, and opportunity.” He turned to his guard droids. “Take her away!”

“But the scan must be wrong,” Amidala said. “If the poison was in all of our drinks, then Lolo would have died too.”

“She’s right,” Roosevelt said as he searched his memory. “She was there with us when we all toasted before the vote. Unless…”

“She didn’t drink…” Amidala finished. “But you did drink, didn’t you?” She turned to look at her friend, and saw a blaster pointed at her face.

“You’re right,” she said, anger dripping in her voice as she pulled out a blaster. “I only pretended to drink.” She grabbed Amidala by the shoulder and used her body as a shield and began to back toward the door. “You’re coming with me.”

Roosevelt tensed and moved slightly behind the others and slowly reached into his pocket. His comlink was there and he pressed a special button that would alert the Secret Service that he was in distress. He just had to hope that they would get here in time to stop Purs from escaping or doing anything too rash.

“Why did you do it?” Amidala asked as she struggled.

“Farr brought war to my planet,” she hissed as they came closer to the door.

“No, he made a mistake,” Amidala replied, trying to reason with her friend. “He was trying to make up for that.”

“Something that everyone forgot, including you. But I didn’t!” She turned Amidala and holding the blaster at her face. “Did you honestly believe he had the moral right to lead us? After he betrayed us?”

That’s right, Roosevelt thought as he continued to watch. Keep talking and don’t move. Just a little longer.

“We needed someone strong to lead us,” she explained as she continued to monologue. “I tried to scare him at the docks, but it didn’t work. So I removed him. And when I learned that Deechi knew about that meeting, I had to remove him also.”

Behind her, the door opened and in came several Secret Service agents. One of them grabbed Purs’ arms and twisted them until she dropped her blaster as the others moved into the room to secure it and ensure that no other threats remained. They were soon accompanied by security droids that were part of the Coruscanti Ploice

As Purs began to realize that she wouldn’t get away, she looked over at Amidala who laid a punch across the Rodian’s face.

“I had the situation under control, Senator Roosevelt,” Divo said, looking over at the Terran Senator. “My guards would have taken care of her.”

“Of course, you are correct,” Roosevelt said, “My Secret Service detail was merely assisting your droids in the apprehension of a dangerous fugitive. As to why you even needed them in the first place is something of a mystery. Congratulations.”

“Um… Thank you, Seantor,” Divo said, clearly unsure on how to take the “praise” that he was given.

Roosevelt merely smiled.

The next day, the Senate was in session to finally vote on whether or not to increase the size of the Clone Army. After everything that had happened over the last few days, Roosevelt was unsure on what the outcome would be. The realization that Representative Purs was responsible for Farrs death had shaken many, and he had spent many hours trying to keep the coalition together, but he had a feeling that the internal damage had been done.

Sitting in his box, Roosevelt could see Palpatine standing in the center of the chamber. Speaking to everyone on the room. “The votes have been tallied, and let it be known that the motion to increase the number of clones in the army by five million has passed.”

There was applause in the room as many were glad that a larger army was being created. However, others were more disappointed than anything else, and Roosevelt understood why. A loan from the Banking Clan with twenty-five percent interest was not going to be good for the Republic, but short-term benefits seemed to be what everyone was focused on.

“God, this is going to ruin the Republic,” Roosevelt said to his droid. “How will this affect the economy and other government functions?”

His droid looked over at him, his head cocked to the side in an almost human-like manner. “Do you really want me to tell you, Senator?”

Roosevelt shook his head. “Honestly, I would rather you not tell me the details, but give them to me after we get back to my office. I’ll need a couple of drinks before I try and figure out how we can even attempt to get ourselves out of that mess.”

Chapter Text

Year 14, Month 02, Day 24
Leningrad System
Getov-Rarus Front

Bolts of energy arched across the vacuum of space, impacting the shields and hulls of dozens of vessels. Fighters maneuvered pass and sometimes through the countless debris fields that fill the Leningrad system after three years of constant fighting. Hundreds of thousands of lives had been throw into this front; some to hold the line against advancing hoards while others swarmed the defenses. Many would later call the Battle of Leningrad the bloodiest battle in the history of the Terran Sector, but for Field Marshal Model, it was a stepping stone for the inevitable victory that he would bring to the Reich.

Standing on the bridge of the flagship leading the assault, the Heavy Cruiser Fatherland, he watched as ships stormed passed the Rarus defenses and toward the planet. He couldn’t help but smile at the spectacle before him. He was finally commanding a grand offensive, the first time in his entire career. Back on Earth, by the time that he had gained the rank of Field Marshal, the time of Germany launching large-scale attacks had gone. Now, however, he was doing what he had been destined to do.

“Field Marshal,” his aide, a colonel, walked up to him, a datapad in his hand. “I have the latest reports from the surface of the planet.”

Taking the datapad that the officer was handing him, Model dismissed the man and read over the status of his forces on the surface. The Rarus were putting up a stiff resistance, but his forces were pushing through their defenses, as he expected from the SS divisions that he was utilizing. They, along with the Teutonic Knights, had breached the Rarus perimeter surrounding the city of Leningrad and a major breakthrough had taken place. It reminded him of the early victories that Germany had experienced against the Low Countries and France, and even those against the Soviet Union. However, on Earth, things had gone wrong after BARBAROSSA, and the Reich that was to stand for a thousand years fell in a little over a decade.

That would not happen here.

His offensive into the Leningrad system was to finally take the objective of his military group, and after taking the system, it would open for them to spread out into the rest of the upper parts of the Rarus Federation and flank those that were in Belya Rus.

When his forces had arrived within the system, there were set defensive lines for both sides, with the asteroid field that was used as a supply route for the Rarus forces in the system a location where the fighting was heavy. Strike craft and a flotilla of twenty Getov vessels entered the asteroid belt to cut off the supply route to the defending forces on the planet. Model had to respect the spirit of the Rarus soldiers, as they ambushed his flotilla with the few raiders that were in their navy, and the meteors that housed several manned turbolaser batteries. Mines were also a major problem for the flotilla, and its commander ended up being killed after moving too quickly in an attempt to capture a supply ship that had been caught in the fighting. (The fact that Model had urged for speed was a detail that many didn’t bring up.)

As the fighting in space continued throughout the first day, his forces had managed to cut the supply line that led to Leningrad, but it had cost half of the vessels and a quarter of the strike craft to secure that field. Those vessels were having to remain, along with another fifteen that had been sent to ensure that a Rarus counter-attack didn’t come from the Arkangelsk region of the Rarus Federation. Model personally believed that there was very little chance of this happening, especially after hearing of the Rarus’ failed attempt to retake the Kiev system. However, his subordinates had been insistent, and so he reluctantly allowed those vessels to remain to interdict any Rarus supply ships that would no doubt try and move toward the planet, and to serve as a potential threat to any enemy assault from forces within the system.

In the assault on the Rarus defenses over the planet, thirty Getov Waffen SS long-range siege vessels unleashed one of the largest barrages of cannon fire in the system. Two defense stations and several satellites that had stood against three years of combat were destroyed by the overwhelming firepower that Model had brought into the system. The destruction of those two stations opened a hole large enough for two armored divisions and a mechanized infantry division to land on the surface. Anti-orbital defenses prevented them from approaching too close to the city of Leningrad, but their arrival had been a welcome sight to many of the Getov forces who had been fighting in the system for years. Some of the Getov commanders, mainly those of the Old Prussian aristocracy, had shown disdain when they saw that it was Waffen SS that were arriving, but Model didn’t care for their opinions. All he cared about was bringing glory to the Reich.

By the end of the first day, those two armored brigades had managed to break through the first line of Rarus defenses for the city of Leningrad and by morning of the second day, his forces were quickly advancing upon the secondary defensive lines. Model smiled at the memory of that day, and the number of prisoners that had been taken. Some of them had to have been executed after they surrendered, for the route couldn’t be allowed to slow down. Besides, it wasn’t as though they were truly worthy of living. They were only a step above the various aliens that he had seen after coming to this galaxy, and they were no better than the Jews, or gypsies, Slavs, or any other who was considered inferior by the Reich.

On the second day, other commanders on the planet had joined in Model’s operation, and while many of the commanders who had been fighting on Leningrad for years didn’t appreciate him taking bypassing them in the chain-of-command, they all knew that to openly complain could result in Model contacting Hitler himself for what he perceived as interference.

The advance of his forces on the planet was proceeding well. There had been stiff resistance from the defenders, but Model had the Teutonic Knights, led by Komtur Dieter Kuhn, at the tip of the spear, and the results had been clear. Their abilities and general psychological effect on both sides were evident as the second day of fighting began, with the Rarus defenders unable to mount a defense that lasted for more than an hour, with casualties being lighter than expected. According to the timetable that had been set up before the attack, they were moving faster than expected, many were expecting to be on the outskirts of the city before the end of the week.

At this rate, I’ll have taken the planet before the month ends, Model thought as he turned and walked away from the viewport. As he walked toward the back of the bridge, he smiled as he thought about the good fortune that he had been experiencing since arriving in this new galaxy. His performance at Kursk had brought the attention of the Fuhrer, and a promotion that gave him command of the Upper Military Group. It had been unexpected, but he had an idea on what was the reason for it. When he had awoken in this galaxy to refight a war that he saw at his chance for greatness, he had expected it to play out exactly as it did before, but the withdrawal of Field Marshal Manstein’s forces to the Dnieper Line, the retaking of the Kiev System, and the failed attempt by the inferior Bolsheviks to reclaim the system meant that he wasn’t the only person to have come from Earth to this galaxy.

Other members of the Getov government and General Staff could be responsible for these changes, but he knew that it would take someone of great influence to change the way that the General Staff (both of them) operated, especially since Hitler was in control. It had been during the final days of preparation for the Leningrad offensive that he figured out the reason why. Adolf Hitler had joined him in the galaxy. However, Model had no idea on how to show that he wasn’t the only one here. He had considered going to Berlin himself, but things were too busy at the front for him to leave.

After my victory here at Leningrad, I’ll inform him on who I am, he thought to himself. He reached a holoprojector showing the disposition of forces throughout the system. To the sides of it were smaller projectors, showing more detailed maps of the different theaters in the system.

He could smoke in the air from the many cigarettes that were being smoked, and taking that as a sign, pulled out his pack and began to smoke one as well. Walking off to one of the side projectors, he could see several officers of the various branches of the Getov military move out of his way. Many of them averting his gaze to ensure that they wouldn’t become the latest victim of a call to the Fuhrer. The stories of him breaking the chain of command had spread since he became commander of the Upper Military Group.

As Model took a long drag from his cigarette, he stopped at the map showing the ground campaign on the planet. This was the operation that he truly cared about, and he expected those fighting on the surface to follow his orders, and the space forces to provide support when needed. Grey icons representing his forces while red showed the location of Rarus formations, and he could see that they were having to withdraw quickly.

Soon, this planet will fall and the Bolsheviks will realize that they are no match for the might of the Reich, he thought as he took another drag. This time, we will show the Allies that we will not be defeated!

Komtur Dieter Kuhn rode at top speed of his personal swoop bike. It was standard procedure for members of the Teutonic Order to ride these particular vehicle. It was to be a hallmark to the days when the Teutonic Knights would ride them into battle during the Crusades, and it served as an inspiration to those who saw them racing off into battle.

Personally, Dieter enjoyed bikes to the speeders and panzers that the regular military and Waffen SS. While both were able to carry more people and were overall better in protection and weapons, the swoop bike could go where other vehicles couldn’t. Also, it was far more intimidating when he and the two other Knights that followed, were charging Rarus formations and they couldn’t be hit, no matter how many times the Bolsheviks tried.

The ride for today was not something that he and the others were taking lightly. Reconnaissance elements had reported on a large amount of Rarus activity on this region of the continent. To follow up on those reports, a couple of Stuka gunships with a platoon of armor with supporting infantry to investigate and send back any new information. However, that information never arrived, nor did any word of the forces that he had sent there to investigate. That caused him to investigate the matter personally. The Rarus were up to something, and the fact that an entire patrol had gone missing was a blow to the pride of his personal command, and why himself and the two other Teutonic Knights in his command were investigating this matter personally.

“Komtur, how much further until we reach the last know location of our forces?” asked Knight Mayer over their personal comms. He was second in command to Kuhn, and a very powerful Force user, not to mention that he looked like the poster child for a Nazi propaganda poster. Mayer had come from a very prominent Prussian family that had ties to the original Teutonic Order from the Crusades. He had been older than others who had been recruited into the order, but had excelled quickly and had shown an aptitude with the Force that had impressed Reinhard Heydrich. He had been one of the first to have graduated from the Teutonic Order, and had taken part in actions from the invasions of Poland and France to his current assignment on the Rarus Front.

“We should be arriving soon,” Kuhn answered. He looked down at the map that was projected from his bike’s consol. “Another couple of kilometers to the north and we should be there.”

“Something about this doesn’t feel right, Komtur. It doesn’t make sense that the whole force would go missing without a trace. Do you think the Rarus came up with something new? Maybe some kind of wunderweapon.”

“I doubt it,” Kuhn said confidently. While the Rarus had been putting up a more difficult fight in this region, they will eventually fall before our might. It is inevitable.” Kuhn was going to continue when the ground in front of them exploded, sending a large plume of dirt into the air.

Stopping their bikes before they fell into the crater, they looked around the surrounding area to try and see where it had come from. They soon found out when several Rarus soldiers, who were using a nearby hill as a vantage point to try and kill the two Knights.

“Up there!” Mayer pointed to the hill and raced off at top speed.

Kuhn chased after him. He would have to remind him after they finished off these untermensch that it was foolish to charge into a situation without thinking. When they both reached the top of the hill, they could already see the Rarus speeder trying to escape. Something about this didn’t feel right about this, but he focused on preventing the speeder from escaping. The speeder looked like it was an American Jeep, with a light cannon on the back, and he could the four Rarus soldiers that were in it. The cannon bellowed and the ground exploded off to their right, followed by several blaster bolts as the Rarus soldiers tried to lose their pursuers.

Both knights had their lightsabers out, the blue and green blades deflecting bolts that came close to them. Mayer deflected a couple back to the speeder, causing one for fall off after being hit and another to unable to man the cannon. This caused the speeder to accelerate, as it turned around a large hill. Kuhn and Mayer followed, and could see the speeder continue. In the distance, they could see a small formation of Rarus tanks. It was a small surprise, but it would not be difficult for the both of them to deal with.

As they came closer, a series of explosions went off around them, but they felt different. There was a blinding light and the noise was overpowering as they lost control of their bikes and crashed. Kuhn tried to get up, but all of his senses were overwhelmed. He tried to draw on the Force, but soon drifted off into darkness.

Kuhn woke up, experiencing the worst headache since the time that he graduated from the Teutonic Order. There was a humming sound in the distance, but it sounded like heavy machinery was working inside of his skull. Taking a deep breath and channeling the Force, he began to clear his head and opened his eyes to see that he was in some sort of structure. There was a bright light above him, and as he began to sit up, he could see that the he was in some sort of containment field. The light overhead being the shield projector.

“I see that you are awake, Komtur,” a familiar voce said. Kuhn looked to his left to see Mayer sitting cross-legged on the floor. “You’ve been out for a good hour.”

“What happened?” he asked.

“Rarus set up a trap for us,” Mayer explained as he stood up. Walking toward Kuhn, he extended a hand and help Kuhn to his feet. “I don’t know how long we’ve been here, but I can tell you that Model will look for us when we don’t report in.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” a new voice said. Both Knights look toward the direction the voice had come from to see a man in a Rarus military uniform, accompanied by two armed men. “I doubt that General Model will ever find out about this.” He walked up to the field and stopped a couple feet away, placing his hands behind his back. “The moment that our stun mines detonated, an ion blast went off, disabling your onboard trackers.” The Rarus man smiled.

“Who are you?” Mayer demanded.

The Rarus man sneered. “Who I am isn’t important, you fascists pig. If it were up to me, I would kill the both of you, but there are others who are far more interested in you alive than dead.”

“Let us go!” Mayer almost shouted.

Kuhn placed a hand on the Knight’s shoulder. “Calm yourself,” he said assuredly. He turned toward the Rarus men in front of them. “You will release us.” Kuhn waved a hand in front of him.

“I will release you,” the man said calmly, and then began to chuckle. “Did you really think that the mind trick that the Jedi are so well known for would really work on me? That only works on the weak willed, and that is something that I am not.”

Kuhn merely shrugged. “I thought it was worth a shot,” he said and raised a hand. The two guards that had accompanied the man began to float in the air and gasp for breath. “Release us or the same will happen to you.” Both Knights began to writhe in pain as the containment field was filled arcs of electricity. It only lasted for ten seconds, but it was enough to cause the Kuhn to lose concentration and release the two soldiers who he had held in a chokehold.

“As I said earlier, you are too valuable and the proper precautions have been taken to ensure that you will not escape,” the man explained as he dusted off his uniform. “The NKVD is very interested in you pigs and your abilities. Perhaps they think you can be brought over to the beliefs of Marx and Lenin, and bring true unity to the sector.”

NKVD… It makes sense, Kuhn thought as he tried to regain control of his body. Letting the Force flow through him again as he tried to heal the injuries to his body. Feeling the energy, he started to see visions of events. He could see an attack on Getov Prime, and there were parts of the planet that were burning. Getov ships were firing at something, but the enemy couldn’t be seen. The vision shifted into what looked like a bunker. He saw Grand Master Reinhard Heydrich, and he could hear him yelling.

“What do you mean that the outer defenses have fallen?” he demanded. “I was told they would be able to hold them off until reinforcements arrived!”

“I’m sorry, sir, but there was nothing that General Kleinheisterkamp could do,” someone explained.

The vision switched, this time to a planet that was heavily fortified. He could see vessels of the Galactic Republic attacking Getov defenses, and suddenly he was on the bridge. There, he could see Jedi Master T'ra Saa giving orders.

“Remember, we have to keep the Getov’s attention on us, to allow the Allies to begin their invasion,” she said to an officer.

Kuhn’s vision flashed to the containment that they were in again, and he could see Mayer levitating in the air, the man curled into a ball and energy gathering around him. He recognized the technique that he was planning to use, and knew that it could be extremely dangerous to use. Trying to call out to the man to stop, he was hit by the Force wave and was flung again into another spell of images.

He could see some sort of office, with probably a dozen men sitting around a large table, all of them in uniform. They were all looking apprehensive, as if a great weight was on their shoulders.

One of them finally stood up saying, “The time has come.”

Another flash, this time in what appeared to be a conference room on some sort of ship. A couple of officers and civilians were standing around a holoprojector of a planet.

“Operation: Tempest will begin in three days,” a general said.

His vision flashed to another location, this one being a planet that he was familiar with. He recognized the skyline through the window. In front of it, a hooded figure stood before a hologram of a Clone Trooper. The man’s face was worn and ragged, eyes yellow and a voice hoarse, but sounding familiar.

“Commander Cody, the time has come.” the hooded figure said. “Execute Order Sixty-Six.”

There was a bright light and a crash as Kuhn closed his eyes and suddenly opened. Breathing hard, he looked up to see Mayer holding the Rarus NKVD officer in the air with the Force. The officer’s face was filled with fear and suddenly with pain as Mayer brought his hands together, and letting out a primal yell, pulled the man apart, throwing both halves on opposite sides of the room.

“Mayer!” Kuhn shouted. The man looked back, and he felt fear for the first time in a long time. The look that Mayer was giving him showed pure rage. He could feel the Force gathering around him, and sparks of electricity seemed to gather around the man. Kuhn was unsure on what to do, when the hatch opened and in ran over a dozen Rarus soldiers, all of them heavily armed.

Before Kuhn to react, Mayer unleashed a stream of lightning, catching all of them in a net of electricity. The Rarus soldiers screamed in agony as they fell to the ground. Seconds later, the lightning subsided and the smell of ozone filled the room. Mayer fell to his knees in exhaustion as Kuhn walked up to him. “I feel… tired…” he said looking up at his commander.

Such power, Kuhn thought. I have to report this to Command. This was something that I did not expect from someone with so little Force experience. Looking at the bodies, he could see several of the men with severe burns while others were clearly dead, some of them dark from the power that had gone through them.

Kuhn reached down and helped Mayer up, keeping the man standing by placing an arm around him. “Come on,” he said as they walked through the entryway. In the corridor, alarms were going off and lights were flashing red, notifying the entire complex than an emergency was in need of attention.

Kuhn grabbed a repeating blaster and handed it to Mayer as the sound of footsteps could be heard from both ends. “Take this and get up against the wall.”

Too tired to argue, Mayer did so and watched as Kuhn brought his arms in. He could feel the Force gathering and as several Rarus soldier ran down both ends of the hallway, he extended his arms both ways and unleashed a powerful Force wave away from him. The screams and crashes of the men hitting the walls and each other drifted away as they flew farther away.

Turning to face Mayer, he asked, “Can you walk?”

Mayer grunted as he struggled, but managed to do so. “I can manage.”

“Good,” Kuhn nodded. “Let’s hurry. I don’t know how many Rarus bastards are here, but I know they will fight like hell to ensure that we don’t escape.” He looked down the corridor and back at Mayer. “Watch my back and we’ll get through this. Afterall, they’re only Slavs.”

Two hours would pass as Kuhn and Mayer would fight their way through the NKVD facility, killing everyone they encountered on their path of destruction. When the both of them reached the surface, they stole a Rarus gunship and would make the long and dangerous journey back to friendly territory, while almost being shot down multiple times by both sides. When they returned to their headquarters, they would be hailed as heroes and would receive a personal call from the Fuhrer himself. However, none of these would ease Kuhn’s mind on the visions that he had seen, or the meanings behind them.

Year 14, Month 02, Day 27
Kharkiv
The Union of Ukraina Federated Worlds
The Rarus Federation


General Zhukov watched as the third day of his third offensive into the Kiev System began, and with it, came a slight sense of dread as he thought about the possibility of this offensive failing like the previous one that he had sent.

The previous month, he had been pressured by the Stavka (and therefore Stalin) into launching an attack on the Kiev system after the Getov retaken the system. Zhukov had been against the attack, stating that they needed another couple of weeks to gather the necessary forces for a united offensive with forces from the Caucuses Region and those that had been gathering in the Kursk System. Instead, Stalin had pushed for an attack with those from Kursk and the result had been a defeat that had threatened to remove him from his command and likely send him to the gulag in the Siberia Region.

Two Motor Rifle Divisions and a medium sized task force arrived within the system with the orders to relive General Konev’s forces that were under siege and push the Hitlerites out of the system. It was what was expected of him, but instead, the military force that arrived in the system had been forced to retreat with heavy losses. Many formations suffering over eighty percent casualties, and becoming nothing more than a small patrol fleet.

When he had received word that the offensive had failed, he had contemplated committing suicide to avoid being sent out to the gulag. At least that would have been a quick death. The casualties on the fascists had been lighter, with the loss of their picket and escort units, but their heavy capital ships and most of their ground forces were still intact. What had been a surprise, however, was that Stalin had not decided to dismiss him from his position, but instead was allowing him to stay in command until his talents were needed elsewhere, a message that was surprising to himself and was even more so when he had received it via a video communication.

“Even though your attack on the fascists failed to dislodge them, it has caused them to become overconfident,” Stalin explained. “Even now, their forces are attempting to take Leningrad from us. They will fail and we will use this opportunity to retake what is rightfully our and crush the Getov horde beneath our feet.”

When the communication had ended, Zhukov let out a breath that he hadn’t known he had been holding. Instead of being removed, he was allowed to stay, but he wondered why Stalin had changed in such a way as to forgive what would normally be seen as a failure. He received his answer a couple of days later when Commissar Rozovsky entered his office without knocking.

“Congratulations on keeping your post, Comrade General,” he said, a smug look on the man’s face when he entered. “I am pleased to see that our leader has decided to keep you in command of the front.”

Zhukov managed to hide a sneer. “Yes, Stalin was wise to do so. Now what is it that you want, Comrade Commissar?” he demanded. “I know that you don’t pay me visits unless it is something that you consider important.”

Rozovsky had just shrugged. “Nothing at all, Comrade. Can a fellow supporter of the glorious Rarus Federation not congratulate one of the best commanders we have for surviving such a humiliating defeat?”

Keeping himself stone-faced, he resisted the urge to have the man arrested and thrown out of the airlock like the garbage that he was, but doing so would cause more problems than he would want. Not knowing how many agents the man had on his staff being the main problem. “What is it that you want?”

“Just to pass some information that I thought you would like to know.” Rozovsky walked up to him and had handed him a datacard. Zhukov took it and placed it within his datapad, and as he read, the Commissar pulled out a flask and raised it up in salute as he took a gulp from it, watching the general’s face. The man was like a statue, but he saw a slight twitch from the eyes, and knew that he had surprised him.

“What the hell is this?” Zhukov demanded, barely able to keep himself from roaring at the man.

“It’s the reason why you are able to keep your job, and not out in Siberia counting trees like the many other traitors to the people,” Rozovsky explained as he took another drink. “I was the person who saved your miserable life from being ended after your failure at Kiev, and it is because of me that you will continue to live until I see that you are no longer useful.”

Consequences be damned, Zhukov though. He didn’t want to vent the man, he wanted to beat him to death with his bare hands, and anyone else who he suspected of working for the man. Taking a deep breath, and trying to calm himself he had asked, “What do you want?”

“An explanation,” he said, firmly. “Why is it that you and Konev have been in secret communications?”

The missing “Comrade” and “General” was not lost to Zhokov and it showed just how dangerous the situation was for the both of them. He would have to pick his words carefully and make sure that he didn’t make it appear that he was hiding information. Taking a deep breath, he slowly walked over to a desk and opened one of the drawers. Looking back at the Commissar, who had his blaster pulled out, he received a nod and he reached in, pulling out a glass bottle that was half filled with vodka. Taking out a glass, he poured himself a finger and downed it in a single gulp. As he poured himself another, he slowly thought about what he was going to say.

“Tell me, Comrade Commissar Rozovsky,” he said, as he turned around. He hated using the full title that came with man’s rank, but it would be foolish to annoy the many any further. “What is it you think myself and General Konev are doing?”

“I would have to say that you and him were planning on some sort of operation without the approval of the Stavka,” the commissar said confidently. “Perhaps to gain glory for yourselves and the military at the expense of the workers of the Rarus Federation.” Rozovsky slowly walked confidently toward Zhukov. “Perhaps some counter-revolutionary plots between the two of you? A war like this is a breeding ground for such things. I may have to tell Moscow to look into some of the associations that you have had over the years?”

Zhukov tensed slightly. While he had little to hide, it wouldn’t matter to someone like Beira and Stalin. Any accusation against him would bring him a bullet to the head, or in this case, a venting into space. “Are you threatening me, Comrade?” he asked, turning the title of respect into an insult.

“Merely stating a fact.” Rozovsky waved a hand dismissively. “Remember, I can easily ruin your life and that of your family, so you will tell me what I need to know. The NKVD is the Shield of the People, and we will do what is necessary to protect the Revolution!”

Taking a deep breath and buying himself a few extra seconds by taking a sip of vodka, he told him a story that he and Konev had been working on since arriving in this galaxy in the event that something like this happened to either of them. They made it a habit to constantly update their cover when necessary. It was a gamble, especially if one of the officers who he had brought in on this little stunt decided to turn on him, but he was counting on the rivalry between the GRU and NKVD to keep him safe until a later time. It wasn’t difficult to find those in the GRU to help him and plant the information that some NKVD were working with the fascists or the western capitalists. After that, their general paranoia would keep them busy for a time.

Rozovsky’s reaction to the story had been utter disbelief and outright rage that there could be moles within his organization, and shouted and yelled every insult and profane threat that Zhukov knew to change his story and tell him the truth, but Zhukov and stood firm and eventually, the NKVD man left in a hurry to no doubt investigate what he had been told.

That had been over two weeks ago and he had not been bothered by Rozovsky or any of his lackeys, so he was allowed to focus on Kiev. After enough preparations, the liberation of the Kiev system and the relief of the Rarus defenders of the planet had begun. Intelligence reports that Albion had provided, along with their own sources within the system, had reported that the defenders were being withered away and that they wouldn’t last longer than maybe another month before they would begin to run low on supplies.

His force that was sent into the system was double the size of Getov’s, but less than a one-third of his fleet were heavy capital ships. Others were escort and picket ships. When his forces had arrived, the enemy fleet had been caught completely by surprise, and had lost a third of their heavy units in the first two days. It had been such a blow that the defenders on Kiev actually going on the offensive and pushing back several Getov formations. The Katushka missile cruisers were once again proving their worth by saturating all areas that were occupied by the Getov military. Nothing more than a freighter that had been modified with dozens of missile batteries, they were easy and cheap to produce, and were a big pain in the ass for Getov’s navy.

When the fleet arrived in the system, two Getov task forces, totaling close to forty vessels, were between an asteroid belt and a gas giant and had been in the middle of changing of the patrol fleet. Acting quickly, the Katushka cruisers unleashed an almost unending salvo of rockets. All around them, the Getov vessels were bombarded by explosions, and attempted to scatter. Missiles continued to chase them, with explosions going off. Some attempted to lose them by getting closer to the gas giant, hoping that the intense magnetic fields would scramble them, while the others raced toward the asteroid belt, planning on using their unpredictable paths as cover. Neither of the groups were successful in escaping.

Getov’s loss of a third of its defense fleet was an event that made Zhukov hopeful, and he could see as his fleet was moving closer to the heart of the system. From the latest reports that he was receiving, the relief of Konev’s forces could begin next week, and after that, he could talk with his friend about the new developments that had come, especially those involving the NKVD.

On the planet, the transponders were showing the disposition of Rarus forces and those of the Getov, and while there were several formations that were located within the city of Kiev itself, a majority were scattered across the planet in an attempt to crush the resistance that they were no doubt experiencing. As he watched, he saw as an entire Getov marker was gone from face of the map in a flash. Replacing it was the emblem of a Rarus vessel.

“What the hell was that?” he demanded, looking toward one of the officers that were passing out information.

“A whole Getov division was wiped out,” a major said in disbelief.

“Comrade General, there is a video message for you coming from the planet. It’s General Konev.” the communications officer reported.

“Let it through then.” Zhukov said, surprised that Konev was contacting him personally.

On the screen appeared the face of one of the few people in this galaxy that he could trust. “It’s good to see you, Comrade.” From the man’s appearance, it had been some times since he had slept, but there was still that defiant look in his eyes. One that everyone who had fought in the Great Patriotic War shared during the long march to Berlin. “When that attack of your failed a few weeks ago, many were beginning to lose hope. I had to put down dissent to maintain order, and it was successful. We held off long enough to strike back at the fascists when you arrived.”

“How did you manage to destroy that Getov brigate?” Zhukov asked.

“I managed to keep a few frigates hidden across the planet,” Konev explain, pride entering his voice. “When the damn Hitlerites tried to push through a couple of mountain passes, they received a proper Rarus surprise.” A smile came to the man’s face.

“Well congratulations for dealing a great blow to the fascists. The fleet will be in orbit shortly and Kiev will finally be free from the Nazis. After that, nothing will stop us from marching all the way to Berlin and hanging their Fuhrer from Brandenburg Gate!”

The transmission flickered as an explosion could be heard on the other side of the video, but Konev didn’t flinch. Instead, a grin came to Konev’s face. “Comrade, I like how that sounds.”

Chapter Text

Year 14, Month 02, Day 34
Berlin, Getov Prime
Greater Getov Reich


Fleet Admiral Karl Dönitz watched from the observation deck of a space station in orbit over Getov Prime. It was quiet in space, as he watched the dozens of vessels move from place to place. Getov Prime was probably the busiest planet in the Reich in terms of vessels. Almost every available ship that could be used for the war effort against the Allies, and there were several shipyards that were building and refitting some of the best ships in the Sector.

Dönitz took a deep breath and let it out slowly, letting the almost serine moment take away some of the stresses that he had to deal with since coming to this crazy galaxy. His efforts to conduct the war against the Allies had not been as successful as he had hoped, and with the arrival of the Republic fleet to assist the Allies, things would be even more difficult for the Reich. Now, instead of two armies, he had to try and contend with three, and he already knew that things didn’t go well for the Fatherland on Earth. The only saving grace was that he had knowledge on things that would happen for the next few decades, and while he had stayed out of international affairs after he surrendered in 1945, he still remember several key facts that could prove useful to the Reich.

Thinking of his actions on Earth reminded him of the assignments that he had given his raiders over the past few months. He had focused less on hitting Allied shipping along the Hydian Way, though he still had a small wolf pack conducting operations in that area, he was focusing more on the ports around Albion. Specifically, the planet that held the Republic and Allied fleets for the inevitable invasion of Brittany.

From the few ships that he was able to sneak pass their pickets, he could see them practicing their operations. Even some of the few agents that they still had in Albion were able to observe training between the Republic and Allied forces. When he had first seen the armor of the Clone Trooper, he laughed and how bright and clean they were. When the Fuhrer had been briefed on the situation, he and many of the Party and military members scoffed at just how the impractical the armor was in appearance for combat. Also, the intelligence that the Confederacy had given them had shown just how unprepared the Republic was for a galactic conflict. That had been a few months ago, and his most recent report was disturbing. They had been training with the Allies, and from what had been gathered, their fighting abilities had changed. They no longer fought like soldiers from the Nineteenth Century. No, these fought like professional soldiers and with a leadership that was being trained by those of renown like Patton and Montgomery.

“Why did they have to learn so well?” he asked himself. Hearing the door behind him open, he turned to see his adjutant. “What is it, Captain?”

The captain did the customary salute, which Dönitz promptly returned, and handed the admiral a datapad. “Some more news from Albion. Raiders managed to observe an exercise between the Republic and Allied fleets.”

Looking through the information, Dönitz could see that this was probably one of the largest exercises that both sides had done, and from the information that could be gathered, it was the preparation for the invasions of Brittany. “Three-hundred vessels, including those that came from the Republic?” He looked up. “Is this number right?”

“Actually, admiral that is a low estimate. Some of the analysts think that it could be closer to four hundred, but accurate scans of the system are difficult with their picket ships,” the officer replied. Clearing his throat, he continued. “Sir, I’ll be honest, these numbers have me worried. There is also the Fuhrer’s adamant belief that Brittany will be the focal point for the invasion of Europa.”

“Don’t worry, Captain,” Dönitz assured him. “The Fuhrer knows what he is doing, and his judgement has been right when it didn’t make sense before. Brittany will be the main focus of the Allied attack because it gives them room to expand into the interior of Floevis. The Jewish and alien influence on the Allies will not defeat the purity of the Getov people.”

The captain seemed to take some comfort in this. “That is good to hear, Admiral. I also have the latest force dispositions for our forces that you requested earlier today. Our wolf pack operating along the Hydian Way managed to strike at a Republic convoy and destroy five of the merchant vessels with no losses of our own.”

“Good,” Dönitz nodded, as he looked over the report. “What about the new encryption that I requested? Have the cryptographers managed to replace all of the codes that we have?”

“Yes, and no, sir. All of our current codes have been changed or replaced, but those that have yet to be used have not. Many are seeing it as a waste of time and resources when the Allies have not cracked our encryption.”

“Then ask those fools as to why the attempted strike on the Republic fleet, when it arrived in the Sector, failed in being destroyed?” he asked sternly. This was a topic that he had hoped would turn the war toward Getov’s favor, but instead, it was only an embarrassment for himself and the Navy. “Tell them that this coincidence that they claim is not something to be taken lightly. They should know that in war, there is no such thing as a coincidence, and if they continue to resist, you can tell them that I will speak to the Fuhrer himself and let him know that the lives of the Getov people are at risk because those in cryptography are too lazy to replace the encryption that we use!”

His adjutant eye’s widened in surprise. “Do you really intend to do that, Admiral?”

Dönitz shook his head. “Only as a last resort,” he assured. “I only want to use it to light a fire under their asses, and I hate having to play that sort of game. However, if they’re still dragging their feet, then I will have no choice but to inform the Fuhrer on the matter.”

“Yes, sir. Is there anything else?”

“No, you are dismissed.”

After the customary salutes, Dönitz was again left along to look over the information and contemplate his next moves in the war. The Allies were coming; it was a given fact, but he knew what they would do, and he wasn’t the only person in the Getov leadership to have that knowledge.

Adolph Hitler had come to the galaxy. A man who he had respected for most of his life, even after denouncing the actions of the Nazi Party on Earth. He had come to this galaxy to guide Germany again and make up for the mistakes of the past. He didn’t know when Hitler had come to the galaxy, but it had to have been prior to the withdrawal to the Dnieper. It was the only explanation as to why things were going differently than what he remembered.

Hitler arriving from Earth also brought other things as well. One of those was whether or not to reveal his origins to the Fuhrer himself. To do so would bring better influence within the Nazi government, but doing so would also mean he would have to explain how the war had ended after the end of the war. The fact that Dönitz was the one who had ordered for the Reich to surrender to the Allies would not go well with the Fuhrer, even with his wealth of knowledge of future events. Dönitz knew that he could end up in a camp like others that had lost favor with Hitler. Besides, the Fuhrer was putting more faith in the visions of his Teutonic Knights, something that he was unsure about.

He shook his head. No. It would be best if he didn’t reveal himself. At least, not yet. Things were still things too uncertain about the war. Things on the Rarus Front were at least showing much promise from what he had heard, though that whole front was not his area of responsibility. What had him on edge was the invasions of Brittany by the Republic and Allies. If they could be successfully repelled, then he would consider doing so, but until then, it would be best for himself and his family to remain sheltered behind anonymity.

The door behind him opened, with his adjutant running in. “Admiral, we are getting multiple reports of Allied vessels conducting raids on several systems throughout Europa!”

Dönitz leaped into action. “Show me,” he said, as he followed the captain to the station’s command center. He was still amazed by the technology of this galaxy. The room he was in could serve as a command center for the entire Getov Navy, but he mostly used it as a secondary base when not in Berlin. In the center of the room, a map of the sector’s version of Western Europe appeared, with numerous planets flashing red, indicating being attacked by the Allies. Floevis, Noeoreugr (Norway), Noria, Batavia (Netherlands), Belgica (Belgium) and even the Hellenic Kingdom (Greece) were all being hit by strikes from the Allies.

“Goddamn,” Dönitz said, seeing the attacks. Everyone looked up from what they were doing to see who had entered, and all stood at attention.

“Back to your jobs!” he barked. “I don’t want the Allies to think they can get away with this.” He turned to face an officer who seemed to be in charge. “I want task forces sent to Floevis, Batavia, and Belgica. The other systems will have to rely on the garrisons and what naval forces are near-by to hold off the raids.”

As the orders were relayed, Dönitz looked up at the map, a serious look on his face. He knew what was coming, as did Hitler. The Allies would begin their invasion in a couple of months, with the largest invasion force that the Sector has ever seen. We’ll be ready for them this time, he though.

Year 14, Month 03, Day 03
Exercise Eagle Zone, Albion
The United Kingdom


General Patton watched from his command speeder as the battle unfolded before him. Patton had been training with the Clone Army for a few months now. The current exercise was codenamed Eagle, and was a concept that General Eisenhower had used when in command of NATO to bring the Allied and Republic forces closer as a fighting unit. The exercise had been going on for a month and were coming up on the Final Exercise, which was seen as a final exam for the formations involved. Two regiments of from the Allies, one American and one belonging to Albion, were working with a regiment of Republic clones.

Patton raised his macrobinoculars and watched as a clone battalion was supported by two companies of Shermans as they raced through a smoke screen. The clones were using their RTTs to keep up with the tanks as they stormed the set defenses that the Red Force were using.

“General T'ra Saa, your clone troopers have become some of the best soldiers that I have ever seen,” Patton said as he still watched the attack.

The Jedi general lowered her macrobinoculars. “Thank you, General. They have been working hard this past month. I think you’ve inspired them somewhat.”

Taking his eyes off the fighting, he glanced over at the Jedi and grinned. “I can be inspiring when I have to be. I look forward to seeing how they doing against the damn Getov when the invasion begins. They’ll kill hundreds of the bastards. If you weren’t being used for the diversion, I think they could make it all the way to Getov Prime in a month.”

“I’ve seen a lot of fighting throughout my lifetime, and I have to say that war is never that certain.”

Patton couldn’t disagree with that. His death by a car accident so soon after the war was not his ideal death, but refighting the Second World War after it, was a second chance for him to relive some of the greatest moments of his life, and avoid the mistakes that he had made. He looked back through the macrobinoculars and watched as the lead company of clones disembarked from their RRTs as the tanks and other vehicles fired their heavy weapons before the infantry began their final assault on the Red Force’s position

“But I bet you’ve never seen an enemy like the Getov before have you?” he asked.

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw the Jedi shutter slightly. “The fact that someone could do the things that they do to people just because for being different… I don’t think anything like it has happened in the galaxy before.”

“You would be surprised just what anyone is capable of,” Patton replied as he watched the clones moved through the enemy positions, supported by mortar fire from behind them. He could see that one of the tank companies were slow to react when couple of enemy tanks attempted to flank them. Three tanks had been lost, along with several soldiers who had “died” but the clones had been able to hold them off and continued their advance until the objective was taken.

After the exercise had ended, Patton and T'ra had made their way to the Allied Force Headquarters in London. Normally, such a visit would unnecessary, but when it came to the invasion, reports were either presented by courier or face to face.

When they walked through the door to the outer room of Eisenhower’s office, his secretary got up from behind her desk and opened the door to allow the both of them through the second set of doors. Sitting behind his desk, with terminal, a datapad, and several datacards on top of it, sat the Supreme Allied Command of the Europa Front. Upon entering, Patton stood and delivered a crisp salute while T'ra gave a respectful bow.

Having returned each formal greeting, Eisenhower allows a small smile to show. “How did the training go? I am going to guess that it went well?”

Patton couldn’t help but grin. “General, it went great. The clones have become some of the best soldiers that I have ever seen. Place them under my command and we’d make it through Hell and out the other side without a scratch!” He looked over at the Jedi. “You have some of the best damned soldiers out there. You should be proud that they will take part in greatest endeavor in our history.”

Eisenhower could see that the T'ra didn’t share Patton’s enthusiasm for combat. “I know that war isn’t something that Jedi have done in several centuries, but you must realize the necessity steps that we must take. You’ve seen the pictures and videos. You know what that bastard Hitler and his followers are doing, and they won’t stop doing until they control everything that they can.”

He wasn’t sure that the Jedi was convinced. Both he and T'ra had talked about the conduct of the war: the strikes against civilian targets to the interment of people who came from Katania and Getov. War was a filthy business and it was almost impossible to not get a person’s hands dirty, though he knew that some of those actions were distasteful. He needed to try and convince her that the war in the Terran Sector was differnet from the rest of the galaxy. “You know how persuasive he is. He managed to convince several Jedi from your order to join him, and they’ve become twisted into something that shouldn’t exist. They see themselves as superior to everything that the Republic stands for. This is an enemy that we cannot allow to survive and it must be stopped here and now.”

Jedi Knight T'ra Saa looked serine, though Eisenhower could see emotion in her eyes. “I know that, General,” she said, her voice calm. “It is a Jedi’s duty to ensure peace and stability in the galaxy, and I wish that this whole galactic conflict called the Clone Wars could be avoided, but this… man…” She said the word with a firmness that neither Patton nor Eisenhower had expected. “He’s a monster, something that is the antithesis of what is right. He needs to be stopped, and as a Jedi I will do what I can to assist.”

“That is good to hear,” Eisenhower replied, relaxing a little. Perhaps she had finally seen just how war really was. “We’ll try to fight this war in a civilized manner, but I cannot promise that. War is a very unpredictable thing, and sometimes difficult choices have to be made.”

“I know, General,” she explained. “I can sense it from the both of you. The weight of the burdens you two carry is great, but I can also sense something else. A hope that things can be better.” She looked over at Patton. “Maybe not so much as you. You like the heat of battle. It makes you feel alive, but I can tell that you want to live past this war,” she said with a smile. “I hope that you are able to. I feel that you have seen much death, and that you will see much more before your time comes.”

Patton was stone-faced, but Eisenhower knew the man well. He could tell that he was a little shaken, and felt that it was time to change the subject. “Well, is there anything that you think was of note during the exercise?”

Both generals looked at their commander. “I do not believe so,” the Jedi replied. “Most of the details are on this report.” She held up a datacard and handed it to Eisenhower. “If there is anything that you need clarification on, I would be happy to explain further.”

Taking the card, he held it in his hand and looked back at the Jedi. “I will be sure to ask. You are dismissed then. I just need you to keep you comlink on you in case something comes up.”

“I will,” T'ra Saa said with a warm smile and gave a small bow.

“George, I would like you to stay for a moment. There is something that I need to discuss with you,” Eisenhower explained.

When the Jedi left, he motioned for Patton to take a seat, who seemed to almost flop into it. “You alright, George?” he asked. “I know you are a little shaken from what she told you.”

“Damn right I am.” Patton took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “It was almost like I was an open book to her. I didn’t like it. I have just gotten over my fear of fate controlling everything and now this blasted Templar wizard gives me a cryptic message…” He places his hands over his face. “Christ I need a drink.”

Hearing clinking, Patton looks to see a small glass with an amber colored liquid inside of it being held out to him. “Ike, you are a Godsend you know that?” Taking the glass to downs the drink in a single gulp. He holds out the glass and Ike takes it. “Do you really think that we will be able to change things for the better? Sometimes I wonder.”

“We all wonder that.” Ike begins to refill the glass and hands it back to his friend. “You, me, Rommel, Churchill, Roosevelt, Cunningham, Alexander. We’re all thinking at times if any of the decisions we’re making are for the better or just making things worse.” Ike explained. “The truth is we just don’t know.”

“I have never questioned my abilities,” Patton said, holding the glass in his hand, gently twirling the liquid inside. “I’ve always be so sure that I would come out on top, and I was right more often times than not, but coming here...” He looks down at the glass. “I question myself sometimes.”

Eisenhower was silent for moment and then began to pour himself a drink before he responded. “Trust your instincts, George,” he said finally, after taking a sip. “They haven’t steered you wrong before, and I don’t think they will start to be wrong now either. Try to learn from your mistakes and try not to be too much of a glory hound.” That last statement was said with a small smile that caused Patton to chuckle.

“No promises,” Patton replied, waving his finger innocently. “Remember, Montgomery is still that tactless bastard that he was on Earth. I can’t let him think I’m a pushover now can I?”

Ike just laughed. “Very well, just don’t goad him too much. I have enough trouble with having to deal with De Gaule without you and Montgomery making it even worse.”

As they both laughed, Patton paused. “How are Rommel’s friends doing?” he asked, not wanting to reveal too much information to anyone who could be listening.

Eisenhower reached over on his desk and pressed a series of keys. The room darkened a little and there was a slight charge in the air. “I’ve switched on the security systems in this room so it should be secure. As to our friends in Getov, we’ve heard a few things from them,” he explained. “They said that they are putting some pieces in the proper place, though they are reluctant to move on some of the arrangements that have been suggested.”

“They should know better than to try and push with us,” Patton said as he sipped his drink. “Are they still thinking that they come out of this on top? The damn communists will take control of half of Europa by the time they realize it’s too late.”

Ike nodded. “President Hull and Prime Minister Churchill have been in talks with them on a settlement in this war. The President has been reluctant on keeping Stalin out of these talks, but since there haven’t been any official decisions on the Sector post-war, they technically can’t complain too much.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“Do you think that Stalin and the other communists will be able to complain with the Separatists still at the gate?” Ike countered. “We’ll have to make some concessions to Rarus Federation, but we’re not going to allow them to take half of Europa.”

“Do you know what the Getov General Staff in thinking of doing when they make their move?”

Eisenhower just shrugged. “They were looking for something that could counter the Teutonic Knights that Hitler constantly surrounds himself with. I asked General Donavan and the Polanie government-in-exile to see if they could find anything useful.”

“What could the Polanie have that could be useful to stopping Hitler’s magical knights?” Patton asked, his interest piqued.

“The head of their resistance group,” Ike reached downed and picked up a datapad to read a name, “a General Tadeusz Komorowski. He’s been working with a smuggler to help get “undesirables” out of occupied territory. From what information we have on the man, he’s got a code that he keeps, especially when it comes to the actions of the Getov against others.”

“Has he found anything then, or was it a waste of time and money?” Patton asked with disapproval in his voice.

“Apparently he found something on a planet that supposedly has had very little interaction with Jedi, despite it being well within the borders of the Republic.” he explained. “They didn’t specify what it was though.”

“I take it that he wanted some outrageous price for this item?”

“Items, and actually, we’ve been getting a discounted fee. Like I said, he’s has a code that he follows. I just hope that the items in question actually work.”

Chapter Text

Year 14, Month 03, Day 10
Kachin
Occupied Bamar


Junior Sergeant Lui Han carefully stuck her head out from cover. It wouldn’t do her, or those under her, any good if she ended up being killed by a droid or Katanian sniper. Looking over the battlefield, she could see the ruins of several enemy vehicles, and their lines a couple hundred meters in the distance. Sensing something, she quickly ducks down. A second later, a blaster bolt streaks through the air where her head had been. Sighing, she griped her blaster rifle to make sure that it is still there. She had lost too many friends over the past year to combat. Some of them to explosions, others to burning vehicles, and others to the acts of the Katanians and droids when they took “prisoners”.

“Did you see anything?” a strange accented voice asked.

Looking behind her, she saw the tan skinned Twi’lek, his rifle at the ready. Shaking her head, she said, “I saw a lot of destruction and not much else,” she said. “Though I did have a feeling that someone was watching me.” She glances up at the spot where her head had been. “I guess I was right.”

This Twi’lek’s name was Cabet Eyan, and while she cared little for the aliens when she had first met him, and even feared him slightly from some of the stories that she had heard as a child, combat and shown that he was someone who she could trust with her life. “You seem to have become very lucky when it comes to that sort of thing. How many times have you been shot at and survived?”

“Too many,” she said, leaning against the trenchline that had been set up. “And before you say it, I’m not a Jedi or Force sensitive. I’ve just been lucky, that’s all.” She shrugs. “War is just random. Eventually I’ll be killed.”

“That had better not be defeatist talk I hear,” a firm and authoritive voice said from behind.

The both of them, along with the other five soldiers in their section of the trench, looked back to see their platoon leader. He was a supporter of Chang, and also tended to be very supportive on the Generalissimo’s ideals. He was far from the only man in General Sun’s Army, but he was also loyal to Sun, and would follow his commands.

“No, sir,” Cabet answered. “Junior Sergeant Han was just explaining how random war can be.”

The lieutenant looked at the both of them and the sour look on his face remained. Instead he grunted and walked further down the line.

“I don’t think he likes me,” Cabet said after the man was out of earshot.

“What makes you think that?” another soldier asked dryly. “The fact that he give you suspicious looks every time he passes you, or the constant grumblings that we hear about him complaining about commanding aliens?”

“And here I thought my charming personality would win the man over,” the Twi’lek said sarcastically.

There was a chuckle among the group when the sounds of engines overhead were heard. Looking up, everyone could see scores of fighters and bombers overhead. “Bomb those bastards to Hell,” one soldier said, looking up. There was a round of agreements as each person swore at the enemy. On the other side of the lines, Katanian and droid batteries opened fire, sending up dozens of rockets and bolts into the sky.

The bombing had been increasing regularly over the past week, and it was making Liu nervous. These sorts of things were usually followed up by an attack, and while they have been successful, she still wanted to live through the entire experience. She had heard that the fighting in space was supposedly worse, but she was somewhat doubtful on that.

“Some people will hate another no matter what,” she said finally. “All you can do is try and stay out of his way and not give the Lieutenant any reason to hate you even more than he does already.”

“I would like to see him do something like that to a Wookiee,” one said. “I’ve heard that they’ll rip arms out of their sockets when someone really upsets them.” He turned to the Twi’lek. “Think you can talk to our Wookiee comrades and have an ‘accident’ take place?”

Cabet just laughed. “I’m afraid, my friend, that that would be dishonorable to a Wookiee, though if the good Lieutenant said something fowl about General Sun, then something may happen.” He gave them all a sly grin and everyone laughed.

The CNS light cruiser Chin Bao, slowly moved though the upper atmosphere over liberated territory. One of the few fully equipped Kunian warships available on this front mobile command vessel of General Sun’s army was a call that General Stillwell had suggested. The combat air patrol circled an area several kilometers away from the ship, to intercept any fighters that would attempt to try and take out the Army’s command and control. So far, there had been three attempts by the Katanian and droid forces, but none had been successful in bringing the ship down. The ship had suffered damage, but none of it severe. On the command deck, General Sun was looking over the status of the campaign on the planet.

On the map, several bomber formations, along with fighter escort, had hit numerous Katanian and Separatist outposts on the planet. What few armored units he had were being used to spearhead a thrust to take the planet’s capital, with his remaining units providing support. That had been two weeks ago and now the attack had stalled. They were still over two hundred kilometers away from the capital and he needed to take it. He had requested support from the ships in orbit, but the Katanian and droid fleets had managed to keep most of the Allied vessels from coming too close to planetary hardpoints. He muttered a curse. This campaign was something that he had pushed for, and he knew that if it went wrong, all of the blame would be placed on him.

“We have incoming bandits!” the sensor operator, a human from a planet on the Outer Rim, announced. “Formations approaching on bearings two-eight-five, zero-three-seven, and three-one-five.”

“How many are there and what’s their makeup?” the executive officer asked.

One of the tactical maps changed to show the area surrounding the ship and the officer reported. “Three groups with a total thirty fighters each, sir. Two are Katanian with a make-up of twelve Zeros and eighteen Val fighter-bombers.” The details appeared on the screen as he continued. “Droid formation has all Vulture droids, but I’m getting some strange readings from some of them. I’ll try to work through the interference.”

“CAP is moving off to intercept,” the operations officer reported. “ETA: ninety seconds.”

“Bring weapons systems ready and back-up crews on stand-by,” the captain ordered. “Send a message to the Renown that we’re expecting company and request support.”

Sun watched the screen as the CAP moved to intercept. While it only had an escort of twenty fighters, they were some of the best trained that were in Sun’s command. There were also two corvettes serving as screening force. The escorts moved toward the Katanian formations, leaving the droids for the light cruiser to deal with. As the fighters came closer to the merge, several Katanian fighters disappeared from the screen. The Zeros turned to engage the escorts and a huge melee could be seen. The fighter-bombers, however, continued to fly toward the ship. The escorts opened fire with their cannons as they took out several Vulture droids.

“Vultures are launching missiles! Counting two dozen on intercept with the Long Fang. ETA to impact: twenty seconds!” The screen showed the missiles begin to approach the ship, the distance to the corvette on display. When they reached less than ten meters, all of them suddenly exploded.

The bridge was quiet for a few seconds before thecaptain ordered, “Get me the bridge of the Long Fang.”

“I can’t, sir,” the comm officer answered. “It’s like their comm unit is down.”

“Could it be damage from the explosion?” the executive officer asked.

Something didn’t feel right, Sun was sure of that, and the captain felt the same thing. “Bring a camera onto the Long Fang. And zoom in on it. I want to see the hull.” A secondary screen showed the corvette. It was somewhat shaky as it zoomed in on the vessels. As it came onto focus, they could see that the hull had droids crawling all over it.

“What the hell are those things?” the XO asked.

“Those two are Demolition Droids,” one of the alien crewmembers said. “They carry an explosive charge large enough to destroy a large building. The rest look like regular battle droids.”

“Contact the other corvette. Tell them to move closer to us, and bring main batteries onto that ship. I want it blown out of the sky immediately,” the captain ordered.

“Sir?” the weapons officer asked.

“You heard me, Lieutenant. If we allow the Separatists to take control of that ship, they’ll gain information on everything that we have.”

“But what about the men and women onboard?” the XO asked. “There’s still a chance that they can repel them.”

“We can’t take that chance.” The captain turned toward the weapons officer. “Lieutenant, I am giving you an order: batteries are to open fire on that ship. Do you understand?”

Clearing his throat uncomfortably, the officer replied, “Yes, sir.” Several seconds later, the main cannons on the cruiser unleashed a torrent of laser fire on the corvette.

“Bring the CAP back. Tell them to intercept the Vulture droids. If they get on this ship, we’ll lose this planet,” the captain ordered.

The surviving corvette began to increase speed and banked toward the cruiser, firing its cannons as it came closer. The Vulture droids came closer and the ship’s main guns soon began to fire, sending bolts in energy toward the droids as they came closer. The turbolaser batteries fired, but few of the droids were hit. Next to follow were the secondary laser cannons, several of the droids were blown out of the sky. The CAP came in from the Vultures’ flank, raking them with laser fire and they flew over the formation, destroying several of them as they approached the remaining ships.

“Vals are moving in for an attack run!” the sensor operator announced.

“Evasive maneuvers! Get the secondary batteries on that vector!” the captain ordered. He switched on the internal comm system. “All departments brace for impact!”

Sun could feel the ship begin to vibrate as the vessel began to increase its speed. Outside, dozens of bolts were being fired at targets in the distance. On the screen, he could see several of the craft in the formations being whittled down from the concentrated fire, but it didn’t stop the Val bombers from launching their payload.

“Torpedoes launched! I’m counting twelve contacts. ETA to impact: Ten seconds!”

“Everyone grab something!” the XO yelled out before the entire ship shook from the impacts. Alarms began to go off throughout the ship as it was rocked by the explosions.

“Status!” the skipper yelled out over the alarm.

“Starboard bow has received damage,” the operations officer reported. “Automated targeting systems are down in that area. They are going to have to switch to manual, sir. Also receiving reports of heavy casualties in that area.”

“Send damage control recovery crews to those areas immediately, and have the crew ready to repel borders.”

“Vals are pulling away and making a run for it,” the sensor officer reported. “Vulture droids are doing the same. Enemy formations have suffered close to fifty percent casualty rates. CAP is reporting a loss of four fighters.”

“The surviving corvette is reporting minor damage to her weapon systems and propulsion system but is still in the fight, sir,” the comm officer announced. “They are taking position off our starboard bow.”

General Sun relaxed a little as he tried to concentrate on the situation on the surface. Using a ship as a mobile command post made sense, but it was not a place that he felt a general belonged. If anything went wrong, he would end up dying with the rest of the crew, but he had been “encouraged” to do this, so as to allow for a mobile command post.

“I’m not a ship commander, I’m a General,” he muttered to himself.

“Did you say something, General?” one of the bridge officers asked.

“Nothing,” Sun said as he concentrated on the map.

This offensive to reopen the Bamar Route was needed, and it was part of his plan to try and improve his standing in the Kuomintang. He was already working on his standing with the Americans and those from Albion, but international respect won’t be useful without his standing in Kunia in a good light. He remembered from his life on Earth that Chang and his cronies used his retreat into India as saying that he had sat out most of the Second Sino-Japanese War while Chang had heroically lead the defense of the nation. Sun had contacted General Wei Lihuang in the bordering Kunia systems of to coordinate with his offensive, but at the last minute, General Chang had interfered and given Wei orders not to attack until he had been ordered.

Sun hid a grimace at the thought of how everything that he had stood for had been ruined by the Changs. His offensive had continued anyway and it looked like he was sending a lot of good men, women, and aliens to their deaths. He muttered a curse. Sometimes he wished that the Generalissimo would just die in an accident or something similar, just so that he wouldn’t have to deal with the man. He shook his head slightly. I hate politics!

The entire ship shook as a series of bright flashed of light impacted the ship’s shields in front of the bridge. The bridge crew immediately grabbed for something to steady themselves as the ships repulsorlifts compensated and stabilized the vessel.

“What the hell was that?” the XO demanded as alarms went off.

“Katanian cruiser above us,” the sensor officer reported.

“Where’s our top support?” the captain asked. “The Albion Navy is supposed to keep them from taking any position over us.”

“Message coming in from the admiral,” the comm officer said. “He says that the Katanian and droid vessels are making a push through the perimeter.”

“Nav, pull us out of here. Full power to engines. Inform our CAP that we’re leaving the area for orbit,” the captain ordered.

He received a round of affirmatives as he gave more orders, and all General Sun could do was look at his display. If he had been on the ground, then he might be able to do something, but here was on a ship. Instead of dwelling on the fact that he was leaving the command area, he began to issue orders to his men. Most of them were to hunker down and wait for the Katanian ships to move past, and hopefully they could continue their attempts to gain a breakthrough.

With the last of them transmitted, he walked up to look outside of the bridge’s viewport to see them enter a large melee of ships. Albion, American, and the few Kunian ships were going toe to toe with Katanian and Separatist ships. Red, blue, and green bolts of energy streaked across the blackness of space as fighters and bombers darted past their targets. On the overhead speakers, the comm was broadcasting the Allied fleet’s communications. From what could be heard, the enemy’s push had caught the Allies off guard.

Looking over at the holographic projection of the battle, Sun could see that if they weren’t stopped, then the offensive into this system would fail, and who knows how many good soldiers would have to be left behind. Damn it all to hell, Sun thought. He had moved too soon. In his eagerness to try and look like a proper Kunian commander, he had gambled in this offensive and now had to deal with possibly losing all support that he had managed to gain since arriving. He was suddenly pulled from his thought when the entire ship shook violently. To the port side of the vessel, a Katanian heavy cruiser was unleashing dozens of turbolaser bolts at their ship.

“All port batteries open fire on that cruiser!” the captain said as the ship shook under another series of impacts. “And see if our escorts can take some fire away from us.”

Their remaining escort and the Kunian P-40 Warhawk escorts moved between the two vessels as the Chin Bao and Katanian cruiser traded blows. Dozens of Zero fighters attempted to break through the defenses of the cruiser, but many disappeared in bright explosions from the corvette’s cannons and the cruiser’s anti-fighter cannons. Those that managed to survive conducted strafing runs on the Chin Bao’s hull. The Chin Bao, already damaged from its previous engagement in the atmosphere, shook viciously as the hull was hit by numerous bolts on energy.

“Report!” the XO shouted as he held onto a rail.

“Multiple hull breaches,” the operations officer reported. “Power core output is down to eighty percent. Engineering reports that one of the drives was damaged. Speed has been cut by twenty-five percent.”

“Captain, the USS Patriot is moving up to assist. Its captain says that we should pull back and regroup with the rest fleet,” the comm officer announced.

“Nav, get us out of here,” the captain ordered. “CAP will harry any followers and the corvette will provide escort.”

The next few minutes were some of the longest that Sun had experienced in his life. The fighting in space was something that he still never had acclimated himself with. There were those in the Army who complained that those in the Navy had a much better, and easier, time when it came to combat. They didn’t have to deal with constant patrols and had nice comfortable beds with shields and layers of durasteel to protect them. This whole experience showed that the Army didn’t realize that when a ship was destroyed, hundreds, if not thousands, went down with the ship.

When they had rejoined the fleet, the number of vessels on both sides were about even. All of them had various stages of damage, but while the Allied forces had an experience on their side, the enemy had numbers and it was a fight that many of the commanders were questioning whether or not the campaign was worth it. However, the arrival of another fleet behind the Katanian and droid vessels caused everyone to everyone to identify their new arrivals. Many at first believed that it was Katanian reinforcements, but that was soon put aside when the transponders revealed them to be Kunian.

“Sir, I’m receiving a transmission from the flagship of the Kunian fleet,” the comms officer said. “They say that they want to speak with General Sun.”

Everyone who wasn’t working on some task or another turned to look at him. The captain simply said, “Put it on the main screen.”

On the screen appeared a face that Sun was both shocked and relieved to see. General Wei Lihuang stood there, hands behind his back. “It is good to see you General Sun,” he said. “I am pleased to see that you managed to accomplish so much despite Generalissimo Chang being against this plan in the first place.”

“It is good to see you as well,” Sun replied, having regained his composure. “How did you manage to convince the Generalissimo to allow you to take part in this?”

General Wei showed a slight smile. “I requested that I be allowed to relieve your force, but he had ordered me to stay until the remaining Katanian forces within my sector had been dealt with,” he explained. “When I received this message, I requested that another be sent to confirm the previous message, and that it be decrypted twice to ensure that the message was not misinterpreted.” The smile became bigger. “I’m sure you can understand that this process can take time, so I made a judgement call.”

There were chuckles across the bridge as everyone heard this explanation. “I beg your pardon, General, but what do you intend to do when General Chang find out about this?”

Wei simply shrugged. “Well, I will simply ask the General if he would like me to return the Kachin System to the Katanians.”

Year 14, Month 03, Day 14
IJN Shigure, 27th Destroyer Squadron
Sulawesi System, Katanian-occupied Batavia Melayu


The vessel shook as its shields were pounded under a barrage. The destroyer Shigure turned its cannons to face a cruiser that was attempting to cross the destroyer’s “T”. The Katanian vessel’s bow dipped as it dived below the American cruiser. Making a sharp turn to port, it brought its turbo laser batteries and torpedo tubes to bear on the underside of the vessel. A spread of proton torpedoes was launched as the Shigure sped past. The cruiser, attempting to escape, was raked by several explosions as the torpedoes impacted the hull.

“Enemy cruiser has received severe damage,” the sensor officer reported. “Engines appear to be offline and she’s drifting.”

Commander Hara looked over the tactical view before saying, “Fire another spread at the vessel. We’ll make sure that it doesn’t cause any problems for our forces in the system.”

“Captain, I’m receiving a message from the Army commander on the surface,” the comm officer said. “He’s demanding that we do something about the landing ships that the Americans are sending onto the surface.

Hara grimaced as he thought about trying to explain the situation to the irritating Army commander. He had been in the Sulawesi System for several weeks, using it as a staging point to launch raids on American and other Allied shipping. It was a tactic that had proved useful on several occasions, and it had caused American forces in the New Guinea System to halt any sort of offensive operations while they secured their supply lines. "If he hits you high, then hit him low; if he hits you low, then hit him high," was what he had drilled into his command, and it had proven useful here as it had been on Earth.

However, two days before, the American fleet had conducted several raids on the Caroline system. Thinking that it was the prelude to an invasion on the system, several ships had been diverted to that system, which left the Sulawesi System with fewer ships than normal. That allowed the American and Aurorian navies the chance to launch an invasion of the system. Two cruiser forces, one Aurorian and the other American, and eight American escort carrier groups, had arrived within the system and commenced strikes on the docking facilities in orbit and conducting orbital strikes on the ground installations. The planetary invasions followed soon after, with dozens of transport ships carrying American soldiers to the surface. None of the Katanian vessels that survived the initial assault were close enough to do anything about it, and the death of Admiral Endo in the opening moments didn’t help in coordinating fleet operations.

That was when Hara had taken control. He didn’t think that he was the highest ranking person in the fleet, but he was the only one who seemed to have known what to do, and the survivors had rallied around him. It had been a situation that he could have gone without; since the Imperial Army believed that he now fell under their command. They had been demanding of orbital support to stop the expanding of the Allied area, and that they move to stop the stream of transport ships that had been moving between the surface and fleet.

“Put him on screen,” Hara said finally. “I’ll speak to the Army fool myself.” On one of the secondary screens, the face of General Kitazano appeared. “You are requesting that I provide support for you again, General?”

“No, I am ordering you!” Kitazano almost shouted. In the background, the sounds of explosions and battle could be heard. “I want you to take your ships and punch through those gajin. I can put everything I have in wiping out those on the surface.”

The ship shook from several hits on its shields. “With all due respect, General, I’ve just finished doing a hit-and-run attack on the Allied fleet and barely managed to come out of there with all of my ships intact,” Hara explain, trying to maintain his composure. “I can’t do that again without risking my men.”

“I don’t give a damn if you lose a ship or two! Our ships are better than theirs.” He countered. “If you don’t support us, then we’ll lose this planet.” The screen flickered for a moment but returned.

Finally having enough of the man’s insolence, Harra snapped, “And if I do what you ask, then you really will lose the planet! How do you expect to keep a planet when the enemy can hit you from the skies?”

“That’s defeatist talk,” the General warned. “Careful what you say, or I’ll have Prime Minister Tojo remove you from your command.”

“Prime Minister Tojo does not have a say in Navy matters so your threats are meaningless,” Hara countered. “Instead of trying to use my ships, how about you use the anti-orbital guns that you still have on the surface. I know that’s you’ve been holding them back in reserve, and I think now would be a good time to use them.”

“As soon as we use those, the Americans will destroy them! I will not waste those guns for a fool’s errand.”

“If you don’t use them now, your defense of this planet will be a fool’s errand! Do you think that Admiral Halsey will allow this planet to remain out of his control? No, he will keep going after until he has taken this system.” Seeing that he had not swayed the general, he said his final threat. “If you do not use those guns before the American’s expand their bridgehead, then I will be forced to leave you and your command in the system.”

General Kitazano actually showed shock, and was silent for several seconds. “You wouldn’t do that! That’s treason! Tojo will not allow you to get away with that.”

“Do you think he will find out when the Americans have jammed all communications out of this system?” Hara let the question hang in the air, with the sounds of battle going off in the distance. Neither man was willing to back down. “Either use those guns to make my task easier, or you can die on this planet. The choice is yours.”

General Kitazano’s face clearly showed fury. “I’ll use the guns to reduce the number of ships,” he growled. “You had better do your job after I do this.”

“I’ll do what I can, General,” Hara said finally as the screen went blank.

Looking around, he could tell that the entire conversation had affected the bridge crew. He didn’t know what they thought of everything that had transpired, but he knew that they would never look at him the same way again. Damn the Army and Tojo, he thought. They were nothing but a bunch of zealots who were blinded by their fanaticism to the Emperor.

He once again questioned what he was to do. From what he could tell the war was following exactly how he remembered, except that Yamamoto was still alive. He wasn’t sure if that would have any sort of repercussions on the fighting, but he knew how the war would end. He wasn’t going to let that stop him from doing his job, however. He wouldn’t fight for the glory of the Empire or the Emperor. He was fighting for those he commanded, and to ensure that none of their lives were wasted in futile attacks. Perhaps with Yamamoto still alive, a man who was able to learn from his mistakes, this Japan won’t adopt the kamikaze attacks that they became so infamous for. He would just have to wait and see, and pray that those who he commanded would live to see their loved ones.

“What’s the status of the fleet?” he finally asked.

“Most ships are reporting moderate levels of damage,” the comms officer reported. “One of the few cruisers that survived has little damage, but is low on munitions. The other vessels are reporting having used up to fifty percent of their weapons stores.”

“What about fighter numbers?”

“We’re down to forty percent, sir. I would have to estimate that we have enough for maybe two or three sorties.”

Hara tried to ease his mind, but he found it difficult to do. They wouldn’t win this fight. There were just too many enemy ships to try and stop, and that wasn’t including their fighters, which were overcoming their Katanian counterparts in capabilities. All he could do is inflict what damage he could and eventually pullout of the system.

“Put our ships in a standard combat formation and prepare to advance on the allied ships when the Army fires their weapons. Fighters will be a screening force and overlap our shields,” Hara ordered.

“I’m detecting energy build-up on the planet’s surface,” the sensor officer reported. “Multiple discharges!” From the surface, several flashes of light flew up toward the American fleet, with several exploding brilliantly. “Multiple American ships destroyed.”

“Move us in to engage. Fighters in front with shields overlapping, and make sure they fly along these vectors.” He sends them to the comm officer. “The rest of the ships will get into battle column formation when we get into weapons range. Focus fire on the transport ships and escort vessels.” He received a round of acknowledgements as he issued more orders. These would be routed to the rest of the fleet and hopefully, they would be able to inflict some damage on the American vessels before the inevitable retreat from the system, and him having to leave the men on Sulawesi behind.

Year 14, Month 03, Day 21
Imperial Katanian Navy HQ
Tokyo, Imperial Katania


The hologram floated over the table. On it, showed the entirety of the Empire of Katania and the Pacifica Region. Around him, the various officers of the Naval General Staff were trying to figure out just how to turn the war in their favor. From what he could see, things were not going well, but there were still a few possibilities that could be done. The only saving grace right now, was that the Americans and other Allied nations in the sector were focusing more on Hitler and his Greater Getov Reich, but that would only buy them maybe another couple of years before they were defeated and the military and industrial might of the United Systems came to bear on them.

The fighting in Pacifica was split into various areas of operation. In the Indou-Kunia Region, communist guerrillas were a small problem for the occupation forces, but it was small compared to the disaster that had happened earlier in the month. Kunian Generals Sun li-jin and Wei Lihuang had managed to reopen the Bamar Route, giving Kunia a much safer, and faster, method of supplying the Kunian military. From the reports that he had read, the Allied forces out of Indou had lost close to half of their total numbers, but had managed to take the planet after General Wei arrived to hit the defenders from behind.

He had made it a point for what raiders they could spare to be sent to that area. The last thing that the Empire needed was a better supplied Kunian Military. The only thing that Katanian military had going for them in that theater was the general distrust between the various factions, the Nationalists and Communists being the major players. That, and the lack of discipline and modern equipment that was available for them. He hoped that the raiders would be able to keep the number of supply ships sent into Kunia low, but he was doubtful. Japan hadn’t focus much on submarine warfare on Earth, and Katania was no different in that area. He would probably have to try and send some of the remailing droid forces he had available in that region, but he was reluctant to do something like that. Sending more there ran the risk of them falling under the influence of the Army, and while he and the rest of the Navy General Staff had prevented that from happening, they still made the attempt to do so.

Kunia itself was a quagmire, but it was the only area where the war was going somewhat in their favor. In an attempt to placate some of the Army’s aggression, he had sent a raiding force out of the Manchurian Region into the heart of Kunia. It had also gave somea much needed experience for the naval forces that had supported the expedition. Their navy was losing veteran personnel quickly to this war, and any moment to improve their capabilities could not be wasted.

“Admiral Yamamoto, how are you today?” a familiar voice asked.

He turned and looked to see Admiral Shimada, the new head of the Naval General Staff. Yamamoto nodded respectfully as the new head of the Naval General Staff stood with him. He was disappointed that this man had been chosen to become the new head of the Imperial Navy, and he was far from the only one. Many in the Navy and several in the Imperial Court had pushed for Admiral Yonai, former Prime Minister of Katania, to become the head of the Navy General Staff, but Prime Minister Tojo and Emperor Hirohito had pushed for Admiral Shimada. Shigetarō Shimada was an aggressive commander, which wasn’t a bad trait, but with the way that the war was going, it was the wrong one to have when having to fight defensively. Despite all of their efforts, however, he had become the Head of the General Staff and everyone was now having to deal with the man’s power grab.

“I am doing well, Admiral. How are you?” Yamamoto replied.

Looking up at the holomap, Shimada merely nodded. “I am doing well, but the state of the war could go better. We need a smashing victory against the Americans and I will be sure that we give it to the people. To show that our Navy is still powerful. One glorious victory and we would be able push the Americans back to Hawaii.”

There was a silence between the two of them for a few minutes as they both observed when a mid-grade officer walked up to the both of them. He saluted both men, which were quickly returned before he spoke. “I’m sorry to intrude, but I have the latest reports from across the theater.” He held a group of datacards in his hand and offered them to Shimada. As he looked them over, he handed those he finished to Yamamoto.

“The situation in the Batavian Malay (Dutch East Indies) could go better. Ever since MacArthur and Halsey took New Guinea and the Solomons, those gajin have been pushing us back, but we will soon show them that they cannot defeat us.” Yonai said. “What is your assessment of the situation?”

Yamamoto was quiet for a moment, as he looked over the information and then at the map before him. He could see that the American fleets were gathering to attack again, and he had a fairly good reason where they would be going. “Admiral, if they manage to take Malay from us, then we will lose the resources that those planets produce for us.”

“I agree, admiral, which is why I plan to launch an attack on the American fleet on their next target.” Shimada presses a series of keys and the map moves to the Mariana System, where the Mariana Gas Giant and its three habitable moons, Guam, Tinian, and Saipan were. “This is where they will strike next. If they can take that system, then it puts them in a position to spread through the heart of the Empire.

“We know that Admiral Fletcher will likely lead this attack. He’s been in command of the American Seventh Fleet that has been pushing through Central Pacifica, and is known for being a very cautious commander. If this were Admiral Halsey, we might have some problems, but his caution will be his downfall. I plan to have the reformed Combined Fleet hit Admiral Fletcher as he attempts to invade the system. The Imperial Army will bog down his invasions and while they are busy trying to take the system, we will arrive and wipe out that fleet,” Shimada explained, his voice filled with confidence. “Admiral Halsey and General MacArthur will then be forced to either face us, or attempt to push us out of Batavian Malay and face the carrier group that operate in that sector. I have also spoken with our friends in the Army, and they have assured me that they will prevent the Allies fleet in Indou from making any attempts to move into Imperial territory.”

It was a bold strategy, but this would probably result in the deaths of hundreds if not thousands, of men. Yamamoto was unsure if this offensive against the Americans would have the expected result. With their ability to out-produce Katania many times over, it was time to fight smart. “Has there been any indications that the Americans have been able to break our encryption?” That had been something that he had pushed for since coming to this crazy galaxy.

Shimada glanced over at Yamamoto. “No, there have been not indications that the gajin had done so. Your push for the changing of all of the Navy’s encryption was strange. Did something happen to you during your time in the Solomons? There had been no indications that they have been breached, and there are still none.”

Yamamoto couldn’t explain that the reason for this was his death, not unless he wanted to end up in a psychiatric ward of some facility. “Call it a feeling since the Americans seem to have done so well after Midway. They knew exactly where to be and how to hit us.”

“Coincidence,” Shimada replied dismissively. “You’re strategy was too complex and a gamble. Put those two together and it’s no surprise that it was a defeat for you. Why else would you be relieved of command of the Combined Fleet. No, this will be simple. We’ll wait for the Americans to arrive and we will crush them. The Army will be the anvil and we’ll be the hammer.”

I wish I could share your confidence, Yamamoto thought. He was about to say something when a Lieutenant Commander walked up to Shimada and handed him a datapad.

“I am sorry to interrupt, Admiral, but this is reports that we have been getting out of Kunia after the raids returned.”

Taking the datapad, the admiral began to read it, and a smile began to form on the man’s face. “Did you confirm this?” When the commander confirmed it had, he turned to look at Yamamoto, a grin on his face. “Looks like your raid did more than we could have expected.” He gave that pad to Yamamoto.

Looking through the Kunian messages, his eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Is this right?” He looked up at both officers in complete disbelief.

Shimada nodded and turned on the internal communication system and slaved it to his personal comm. “Attention everyone!” he cried out. “I have just received some important news from the Kunian Front.” Everyone in the room, and the whole structure, stopped what they were doing to listen. “We have just been informed that General Chiang Kai-shek of the Republic of Kunia has been killed, along with many of his staff.”

There was silence in the room as everyone tried to process what they had just learned, but it was soon replaced with praise as the leadership of one enemy nation was out of the war. As other celebrated, Yamamoto couldn’t help but wonder what sort of changes this would bring to the war.

Chapter Text

Year 14, Month 03, Day 27
Leningrad System
Getov-Rarus Front


Field Marshal Model stood in the city of Leningrad, taking in the skyline before him. It was a complete wreck, and the smells of war were emanating from it. The smells of death, smoke, fire, and dozens of others that he couldn’t place. However, his senses were taking in something else. It was something that was far more subtle, but something that he had yearned for, for years. It was the sight and smell of victory. After four years of fighting, the Reich had finally taken the Leningrad system. A grin soon came to his face as the distant sounds of blaster fire went off.

Hearing the door behind him open, Model turned to see a mid-grade officer approach him, who gave a respectful salute, which was returned curtly. The officer spoke, “Herr General, the latest casualty reports, as you requested.” He held out a datapad.

“Thank you, Major,” Model replied, taking the pad and dismissing the officer. When he heard the door behind him close, he took another look out at the city before turning his attention to the casualty reports.

The fight for the system had been a bloodbath, with neither side wanting to give up until the other was dead. The final push to break through the last of the system’s defenses had started with sending in his heavy cruisers to take out the last three orbital defense stations. With fighter support, two were destroyed with a combined attack while the final one self-destructed. While the stations were taken care of, six destroyers took position in orbit to support the ground offensives on the surface, and managing to destroy an entire infantry division. However, over a dozen Rarus fighters, using the terrain to their advantage, managed to destroy several artillery formations, taking away most of their ground-based artillery support. All of this happened within the first three days of his offensive, and had caused several of his subordinate commanders to request a slowing in operations to allow for a consolidation of their remaining artillery, but Model had denied it and instead pushed for the offensive to continue.

The next day, Model ordered his gunboats and fighters to take up the slack and focus on conducting precision strikes of key points in Leningrad and the surrounding areas on the planet. This operation covered a close to a week of strikes on the surface, with the Rarus defenders put up a fierce resistance, destroying over a two dozen fighters and disabling two gunboats in the beginning, but Model’s strikes had been successful. An entire division of mechanized infantry that had been caught out in the open. However, on their return trip from the strike, countless numbers of Rarus rockets and some anti-ship cannons, unleashed a barrage into their path destroyed another seven gunboats and another dozen strike craft. Those that survived were placed out of commission until replacement parts could be brought up.

The following week, the Rarus started their own offensive in an attempt to push Getov forces further away from the city and out of the system, by sending one of their last full strength armored formations, with strike craft in support. In space, thirty vessels of the Rarus Navy had rallied and launched an assault on the Getov’s lines. The attack had caught several commanders on the surface off guard and were pushed back over a hundred kilometers, with the space forces losing a task force of cruisers to anti-orbital artillery. Model had been furious at this blunder and had taken personal control of the situation. It was an act that his subordinates had protested, but they had been in a poor position to say anything.

He had used his faster vessels to conduct a fighting withdraw as he placed his heavy cruisers in position, and the Rarus used up more of their munitions. He watched as the Rarus vessels came close to causing a breakthrough, but it was only what Model wanted them to see. He had placed his reserves, an SS heavy cruiser task force, on the very edges of the system, hiding it behind one of the outer planets. When they had come into position, a signal has been sent to them and a microjump brought the Getov reserves behind the Rarus fleet.

Facing an enemy out of nowhere, the Rarus commander panicked and the resulting battle turned into a slaughter. Model couldn’t help but smile as he remembered how the untermensch had tried to surrender, but the SS commander had not been will to accept it, and Model wouldn’t have done it either. They were only untermensch, he thought. This failed offensive cost the Rarus the last of their heavy combatants and were limited to small fighter squadrons that were running low on everything.

Pressing the advantage, Model ordered the last of his reserves into the heart of the system, overwhelming the exhausted Rarus forces as he stormed the defenses that surrounded Leningrad. The resistance in the city itself was fierce, but now, there was very little actual combat. There was the occasional firefight, but nothing bigger than a small company, and they were dealt with by orbital bombardment. There were still several snipers, but with reprisals being twenty for every one Getov soldier killed by partisans, he was sure that it would end. Either with the death of the entire population, or the people finally turning against their “protectors”.

It doesn’t matter, he thought. Just as long as the system remained in the Reich’s hand for the next thousand years.

Looking through the information, he could see that his fighting force had been reduced to a fraction of its former self. Less than a fifth of his fleet was in peak condition. The rest had suffered various levels of damage and would require months in a spacedock before they could be brought back into service. The casualty rates of his ground forces hadn’t been low either, and had hovered between sixty to seventy percent on average, not including damaged or destroyed equipment.

He would have to break up formations to bring others to full strength. His subordinates would accept it. They knew better than to complain about his command methods. The dismissal of several officers after they spoke out too loud against him had caused them to be wary of their opinions, though he knew that the soldiers in the field admired him for it. Hearing his comlink chirp, he grabbed it and promptly answered, “Model.”

“Herr Field Marshal, there is an important message for you from Berlin that requires you attention immediately,” a voice explained on the other side.

“I’ll be there immediately.” Taking out the datacard and placing it in his pocket, he left his quarters and walked quickly to the comm room. “Who is it?” he asked, walking in and making sure that his uniform was presentable.

His answer came when the holoprojector showed that it was the Fuhrer himself. Everyone in the room and stood at attention, presenting the customary Nazi salute to their leader. Hitler returned them and looked over at Model. “Field Marshall, I am glad to see that your promotions to Field Marshall was not a mistake like some on the General Staff believed. You have managed to capture the Leningrad system, something that your predecessor was unable to accomplish.”

Model wasn’t sure, but he was certain that there was another meaning behind that, perhaps to those in the General Staff who were being investigated for plotting to overthrow the Fuhrer? “I fight for the glory of the Reich,” Model replied, a small smile on his face.

“It is good to know that there are those who are able to do well, despite what others may say,” Hitler continued. “Which is why I would like for you to come to Berlin. Your actions deserve to be recognized by the entire Getov race.”

Returning to Berlin was not something that he had expected, especially with the recently conquered system. “Of course, Mein Furher, but what about my command? We have just taken the system, and it would be a bad idea to take me away so soon.”

“Which is why the Teutonic Knight that I had sent there, I believe it was Komtur Dieter Kuhn? He will be able to handle things in your absence until you return. There is still much to do, it we want wipe out these untermensch.”

“Yes, Mein Fuhrer, I will leave in the morning,” Model said finally.

“Good, I look forward to hearing of your exploits within that system.” Hitler saluted everyone, which was returned, and the hologram faded.

The room was silent as everyone looked over at Model as he replayed everything that had happened. He was partially unsure on what to do, on whether or not he was to be rewarded for his victory, or punished for such heavy losses. He quickly cast such thoughts away. The Fuhrer wouldn’t do that to me. Not after such a huge victory, he thought. No, this was his reward, and he would also tell the Fuhrer that he wasn’t alone in the galaxy.

Year 14, Month 03, Day 30
Berlin, Getov Prime
Greater Getov Reich


Adolph Hitler look at himself in the mirror as he readied himself. He was about to personally reward one of the greatest commanders in the Reich. Field Marshal Model was set to receive the Knight’s Cross with Diamonds, the highest honor that could be given to him. Smiling, he couldn’t help but think at just how things were going differently for the Reich. It wasn’t his originally, but it was now. His people, his nation, his Reich, and the war would go in their favor soon enough.

The victory in the Leningrad system was proof of that, and while there had been defeats in the Kiev system, the OKH had stated that the Rarus military would be attempting to rebuild in that area for months, and with their recent victory in Leningrad, they would no doubt suffer another set of purges, and perhaps Zhukov would be replaced by someone else.

There was a knock at the door, and when Hitler answered, there was an SS officer. Giving him the customary salute, he said, “Mein Fuhrer, the ceremony is about to begin. Are you ready?”

Taking one last look at himself in the mirror, he smiled and answered, “I am. Let’s reward the latest heroes of the Reich.”

The award ceremony took place in a large auditorium and lasted for about an hour. During the ceremony, those that received awards included several commanders who took part in the battle in the Leningrad, as well as many who were awarded posthumously. After the medals had been passed out to the awardees or their next of kin, Hitler gave a rousing speech that was broadcasted across the Reich.

“People of the Reich, I am here before you to tell you about the lies that the Allies have been spreading. They say that we have been defeated, that we are no longer able to go on the offensive. That our defeats at Stalingrad, Kursk, and Kiev have shown that we are not invincible. Well, I am here to tell you that that is false! We have taken the Leningrad system, led by our newest hero, Field Marshal Walther Model. They have pushed us out of Kiev, but our enemies lost countless numbers of soldiers. These are not the actions of a defeated foe. This is evidence of the superiority of the Getov Race!”

There was a wave of applause and Hitler had to stop. He took it all in: the people cheering him, their faces lit with joy and admiration. It was almost like the drugs that the untermensch would take. When it died down, he continued. “You hear of the Allies advancing in Noria, helped by their puppets, King Emmanuel III and Marshal Badoglio, but you do not hear them advancing further. We hold the line, with Mussolini, the true leader of Noria, and it is with them, that we will push them back and reclaim what is rightfully ours!”

Another round of applause, this one lasting longer than the first before he could continue. He could feel he sweat beginning to build on his forehead as all of his passion went into what he was saying. “And to the Allies, controlled by their untermensch masters, I tell you that you will not defeat us! For every ship you send to fight us, we’ll send three; for every fighter you launch, three will to stop it; and for everyman you kill, two more will take their place! We will not fall! We will not be defeated! We will endure, and the Reich will stand while the rest crumble into the seas of time!”

The applause that followed lasted for several seconds, and Hitler nodded and smiled as the people cheered him on. The entire ceremony was terrific, and Hitler considered it one of the best speeches that he had given, in both this galaxy and back on Earth. As he began to walk off the stage, he was approached by Model. It was something that he normally wouldn’t have allowed, but considering the situation, he let it pass.

“Mein Fuhrer,” the Field Marshal said, as he gave the Party salute. It was returned and the man continued. “There is something important that I need to discuss with you. It is of a personal matter that involves things back Home.”

The capital “h” wasn’t missed on Hitler’s part, despite the roar of people only a few yards away from him. He was almost apprehensive and almost reached for the blaster pistol that he had always carried with him after coming to this strange galaxy. Could this be another? he though. It could explain Model’s actions, but he needed to be sure.

“Please, come with me to my dressing room,” he said, motioning his hand in that direction. “We should have enough privacy there.

As the two of them walked, Hitler explained to his guards that he would be speaking with Model for a while and to wait for him to call them. As they bother entered the small dressing room, Hitler took one last deep breath before closing the door behind him. He hadn’t felt this nervous since he fought in the Great War all those years ago.

When he turned, he could see Model standing in the middle of the room, his hat in both hands and a respectful look on the man’s face. “It’s good to see you alive, again, Mein Fuhrer.”

Looking over the man appraisingly, he cautiously replies, “I suppose that you are the same Model from Earth?”

The Field Marshal just nodded. “I am. How else do you explain the seizure of Leningrad from the Bolsheviks? Luck won’t do that. Only knowledge of the future.”

“Then you must know the date of the Allied invasion of France,” Hitler stated.

“June 6, 1944, on the beaches of Normandy.”

Relaxing slightly, he was convinced that this was indeed the man who was known as one of the best defensive tacticians in the Reich. Walking over to take a seat in a chair. “When did you arrive in this strange galaxy?”

“About the time that the battle in the Kursk System began,” he answered. Model walked over to the other chair in the room and motioned if he could take a seat. After Hitler nodded, he took it and crossed his legs. “Seeing that I was in command of a military force that was both space and ground-based was a bit of a shock to me, though I did manage to gain an understanding.”

“You adapted well enough to take the Leningrad System. And I suppose that you were responsible for informing the Gestapo about plotter within the General Staff?”

Model smiled. “A few names came to mind that I remembered vividly.” He paused for a moment before asking the next question, “How goes the hunt in the conspirators? Did you manage to find enough evidence to have them removed?”

Hitler smiled slightly to himself. That was a matter that he was having success in. He remembered several who were part of the Plot, but he was limited to observations and gathering evidence covertly. He couldn’t risk removing everyone right from the beginning or else he could cripple the entire war machine. If he had enough, he would have replaced most of the older General Staff officers with SS or the loyal Teutonic Knights, but now wasn’t the time. “We’re keeping them under observation for the moment, but since they haven’t done anything yet, I’ll allow them to do their jobs. Perhaps they can be convince not to do it.”

Model’s mouth twitched. “No disrespect, Mein Fuhrer, but you can’t trust those old aristocrats. You should remove them immediately.”

“You are not the Fuhrer, Field Marshal,” Hitler countered fiercely. “You may have come from Earth and won at Leningrad, but you will not speak to me in such a disrespectful way. Do you understand?”

Model was silent for a few seconds and before Hitler could demand an answer, he said, “I understand, Mein Fuhrer. Forgive me, I was out of line.”

Hitler gave the man an icy glare before he nodded in acceptance. “Very well.” He reached for his comlink and switched it on. “Bring my speeder to the front immediately, and inform my guards that Field Marshal Model will be accompanying me.”

“Where are we going?” Model asked.

“We are going to the General Staff Headquarters, and you are going to help in the decision-making for all of the upcoming events. We’ve stopped the Bolsheviks, but we still have Albion and the United Systems to deal with.”

Year 14, Month 03, Day 35
Allied Force Headquarters
The United Kingdom


One of the larger briefing rooms in the structure was filled with officers of the many members of the Allied Powers. America, Albion, Floevis, and others were represented, including the Republic forces that had arrived almost a year ago, and all of them were there for the same reason. Hitler’s speech had been as defiant and bombastic as ever, but the news that the Leningrad system had fallen was still a shock to many. The system had held for years under constant action where the space-version of trench warfare was common had fallen to Getov forces, and everyone was trying to see what this would entail for the war effort in their area of operations.

“What I want to know is how the Rarus defeat at Leningrad will affect our overall plans for the war,” Major General Wilhelm von Tangen Hansteen, the commander of Nororvegr (Norway) forces, demanded. “I don’t care about those that are being moved through Polanie to reinforce the Krauts.”

“You are in a poor position to say anything, General” General Kazimierz Sosnkowski of Polanie (Poland) countered. “My country has provided the largest number of soldiers to the Allied Powers, sext to Albion and the United System.”

“And what of those that are moving to reinforce Floevis?” de Gaulle asked. “My country is to be the focus on the liberation of Europa and we are worried about the Bolsheviks? There are far more pressing matters at hand.”

It looked as though there would be a shouting match between the various Allied generals when someone shouted, “Enough!”

Everyone stopped and looked to see General Eisenhower. All eyes were on the man who was their superior. “All of you are supposed to be professionals, but right now, you’re acting like schoolchildren! This doesn’t help us end the war, and can only make things worse for us in the long-run.”

The room was quiet until General Hansteen turned to Sosnkowski saying, “I apologize for what I said. I suppose that we all are on edge due to recent events.”

“Indeed,” Sosnkowski replied. “The war has gone long, and we are all on edge. Forgive me, General.”

“And I,” De Gaulle added. Many in the room knew that would be the closest that anyone would get to an apology from the leader of the Free Floevis Forces, but none were willing to push it further.

“Now if we are allowed to continue with any bloody interruptions, then let us continue,” General Alan Brooke stated. He brought up the map and pulled up the details for the Getov force disposition in Europa and along the Getov-Rarus Front. “We know from our decryption of Getov messages that Model lost over seventy-five percent of his military force when he took the Leningrad system. A single SS cruiser group with accompanying ground forces are his only intact forces. We know that Getov High Command has moved a single escort group from the Scandinavia region to reinforce those in Leningrad.”

The map zoomed in on the Baltic area of Europa, and the movement of one formation to another system was shown to confirm reflect the information. The display highlighted several formations in Getov proper. “Information that has been attained through the various Resistance groups have shown that two heavy cruiser task groups, one Waffen-SS and the other regular military, have also reinforced the Leningrad occupation. This gives them a battlefleet that can move into the Arkangelsk which is virtually undefended.”

“I can’t believe that I am asking this, but is there anything that we can do to assist them?” Sosnkowski asked.

“We’ve been giving them the movements of the Getov military since the beginning on the Operation Barbarossa, but even with the knowledge, battles can still go the opposite of what you expect,” Brooke explained.

“There has also been movement into the Baltic nations and Polanie,” Brooke continued. “Fresh formations have moved into those areas, which includes long range strike craft with supporting escorts, all of them Waffen-SS, and a single occupation force of the regular military.”

“It looks like that madman is placing more emphasis on his SS forces than the regular military,” de Gaulle concluded. “That doesn’t make sense though. Their General Staff would never agree to this.”

“That is something that MI6 agrees with,” Brooke explained. “We think that Hitler is starting to lose faith in his regular military that aren’t loyal members of the Nazi Party. From what we know of Model, he’s a hardcore supporter of them, and this victory might be something he’ll use as a way to push this agenda of his.”

There was muttering around the room as the various staffs discussed what to do with this new information. Brooke allowed it to continue for a few minutes before regaining everyone’s attention to the screen. “For the invasion of Floevis, there has been very little change in their disposition. They did receive additional forces by sending a destroyer force from Nororvegr to Paris.” The showed the movement of this task force to the named system. “We assess that this will be used to counter the invasion that we will be conducting in a month’s time.”

“You have been vague on the details on the invasion,” de Gaulle said. “I understand the need for security, but having us train constantly without revealing how everything will go is almost an insult.”

Eisenhower made a mental note to have a word with the arrogant Floevis general. “It will cover three invasions,” he said as the projector changed to show forces that were in Afrikana and Albion. “The first one will consist of mainly the Republic fleet under the command of General Montgomery as they assault Brittany. After a pre-determined amount of time, General Patton will then take the real invasion force and move to take the system of Calais, and at the same time General Rommel will move out from Noria and invade Aqutaine. The main focus will be to overwhelm the Getov defenders by hitting them from all sides at once.”

“You don’t think small,” Hansteen admitted. “And you are sure that the fascists haven’t figured this out?”

Eisenhower shook his head. “We’ve worked on a very convincing dis-information campaign to confuse them into thinking that Normandy is the main target. By the time that Hitler realizes the truth, we should be firmly establish in Floevis.”

The entire meeting lasted for another hour, with the different commanders being informed of what their assignments would be. Some were satisfied with what they had to do, while others thought that their talents were being underutilized. Eventually, everyone was dismissed, but some were told that there was a smaller meeting to take place.

General Eisenhower’s office was filled with the higher echelons of the Allied war effort. In the office with him were Prime Minister Churchill, General Alan Brooke, MI6 Chief Stewart Menzies, and President Hull and General Rommel via holoprojector. This would be one of the more important meeting between the United Kingdom and United Systems.

The meeting had lasted for two hours, with Rommel explaining what the Getov General Staff had planned when they finally moved to overthrow the Nazi government. When the Getov general finished, Hull was the first one to ask a question, “Are you sure that we can trust these men? I know that you vouch for them, but how can we be sure that they aren’t trying to pull a fast one on us? You did betray your country after all.”

Rommel hid a bristle at the American President questioning the honor of the Old Prussian guard. “I trust it. Admiral Canaris has no love of the Nazi Party, the SS, or the Trutonic Knights,” Rommel explained calmly. “He explained that Hitler is showing very little trust in them, and is gradually replacing commanders with SS and Knights.”

“Sounds like that madman Hitler is suspicious of them,” Hull concluded. “This could mean that he suspects some of them in the attempts that were mentioned prior to the war starting.”

“That’s what he explained to me,” Rommel said. “I never would have thought it, but now it all seems to make sense to me.”

“General Menzies, what does MI6 have on these replacements?” Hull asked.

The Chief of the Special Intelligence Service looked over at General Brooke, who gave a slight nod. It was no secret to those who had access to the Intelligence community that MI6 and the American OSS did not have a good working relationship. Menzies had stated on several occasions that the agents of the OSS were inexperienced in the trade craft and had forbidden them from taking part in Albion operations. “From the Enigma messages that we have cracked, Hitler has been replacing several of his General Staff officers under observation. Some of the names that have been mentioned are General Ludwig Beck, General Hans Oster, Carl Friedrich Goerdeler, and General Friedrich Olbricht.” Rommel recognized those names. Some of them prominent in the Resistance.”

“What about arrests?” Eisenhower asked.

“Nothing that mentions the arrests of potential conspirators,” Menzies answered. “Likely he’s taking his time. He may be daft in the head, but he’s no fool. He’ll gradually replace those who he questions until he’s ready to take them all out at once.”

That would be bad news for the Getov people. Churchill, Eisenhower, and Rommel all shared a brief look as they knew what this could mean if the coup failed. “We should inform them on this new development,” Eisenhower said.

“And allow for Jerry to know that we’ve broken their encryption?” Brooke asked. “If the Gestapo and the SS are onto them, then to inform the conspirators that several of them are under suspicion would be foolish.” Before Churchill could respond, Brooke raised a hand. “I know that you have been pushing to limit the Rarus Federation’s gains in Europa, and this is a way to do it, but can we trust these people?”

“We are going to have to,” Eisenhower said. “We need to end this war and with as little bloodshed. We have to remember that our war isn’t the only one we have to deal with. We have the Katanians in the Pacifica Region and the greater Clone War.” He paused for a second before he continued. “We have to start trusting them eventually, and they made the first step in that direction by coming to us for help. It is time for us to do the same.”

“Besides, we’re not going to allow them to stay in power for long.” Hull said, leaning forward. “They’ll be the provisional government until maybe after the war, but there will be a new, friendly, government put in place of theirs. After an extensive de-nazification program.”

“We don’t have to be specific in warning them,” Churchill added. “A simple ‘we suspect something’ should be enough to convince them that they need to be more cautious on the matter, and not reveal how well we have broken their encryption.”

“On another note, our smuggler friends managed to find something to counter those Teutonic Knights,” Menzies commented. “The Polanie Resistance managed to receive some sort of creature. I’ll be honest, it sounds fanciful, but General Komorowski trusts the man. He says that it was given to the conspirators so we’ll see if this works or not.”

“Please let us know if there are any new developments, General,” Churchill said. “Assisting the conspirators is a very dangerous game, and we need to know if this fails before it begins.”

“I will, Prime Minister.”

Churchill made a mental note to also try and convince the MI6 Chief to begin working with the American OSS. With Albion teaching them on the methods of espionage and counter-espionage, it may prevent them from making mistakes that could easily be avoided, and it would serve as a way for Albion to have a better standing within the intelligence community itself. “If that is all, then I suggest that we adjourn for the day.” As everyone stood to leave, he said, “General Eisenhower, General Rommel, may I speak with the both of you privately for a moment?”

Both Generals Brooke and Menzies shared a look. Both of them wondered why the Prime Minister had been spending so much time with the American and Getov generals as of late. Ever since his brush with death by those Getov commandoes they had noticed that he was acting differently, and they weren’t the only ones who had taken note. Several in the coalition government had noticed that Churchill was attempting to bring closer ties with the Americans as equals, and trying to find ways to improve the living conditions of the various colonies that were scattered throughout the sector. It was a change in character that many in both parties were curious about. However, they kept their interest to themselves as both left the room.

When the door closed behind them, Churchill looked at the two other people from Earth and gave them a small smile. “I think they suspect something. No doubt they are trying to figure out why I spend so much time speak with the two of you, and the change in some of my policies.”

“Well, I am sure that your changes will be for the better,” Eisenhower replied, with a smile of his own.

“It may not stop the collapse of the Empire, but it could allow us to retain more of it,” Churchill said, all serious. “Who knows, perhaps we shall regain our lost glory in the future. I can tell you, that I will not allow the United Kingdom to become a secondary power like back on Earth.”

And perhaps Germany can survive this as well, Rommel thought to himself. He was still shaken at how his nation had become divided, and a battleground between the United States and Soviet Union. He hated Hitler and everything the man stood for, but he was still a patriot at heart. “If you don’t mind me asking, Prime Minister, what is it that you wished to discuss with us?”

Turning his attention to the hologram of the General, he asked, “Who do you think would be willing to assist the conspirators? Are there other commanders that would be willing to side with them?”

Rommel thought hard. He had attempted to remember as many of the names as he could, but he only knew a few that were active. He remembered Beck, Oster, Goerdeler and a few others. Admiral Canaris was one that he had suspected, but never managed to confirm. Personally he hadn’t wanted to know about it, but he had paid for it in the end. This time, he wouldn’t sit idly by. “Field Marshal Kludge possibly,” he said finally. “Perhaps Manstein as well, but I cannot be sure. They are old Prussian Guard and will not like the idea of mutiny.”

“The information that we have on the replacing of field commanders by SS and Teutonic Knights might be enough to make them consider it,” Eisenhower stated. “Manstein helped in rebuilding the German military after the war, though it was well known, his opinions of Jews and other minority groups.”

“A necessary evil, unfortunately, General,” Churchill added. “Right now we need focus on stopping the Nazis and Japanese. Dealing with the Communists and the Clone Wars will be the next. We cannot let an Iron Curtain fall upon Europa like it did on Earth, and to do that, we’ll need the Getov conspirators to succeed.” He took a deep breath. “We’ll also need to stage the Polanie Uprising to coincide with the assassination, and perhaps one in Nororvegr as well. We’ll give them so many problems that they cannot come to us from a position of strength.”

“Can you keep this to yourself, General Rommel?” Eisenhower asked, look at his former enemy.

The holographic image showed the German general lean forward and steeple his finger in thought. Could he really have this happen to his home? They would weaken his country severely, no doubt place it under military occupation, choose its government, and compensate other nations of Europa with their territory. The German people would be weakened, but would still be strong. A united nation, and not split between the West and the East. He had made compromises with his principles since coming to this galaxy. Fighting against former comrades and allies, and now taking part in a conspiracy to overthrow the leadership. If this was what it took to keep his home safe, then he would do what was needed. “I wil do it, General. This is all for a better Germany,” he said finally.

Year 14, Month 04, Day 02
Kiev System
The Union of Ukraina Federated Worlds
The Rarus Federation


General Zhukov stood before Stalin. Well, not exactly Stalin. It was a holographic image of the man, but he was still greatly intimidated by the one person who he feared in his entire life. He wasn’t the only man there, though. Commissar Rozovsky had accompanied him to this meeting, and he was in an even worse emotional state. The recent accusations that the fascists had infiltrated the NKVD had cause a small witch-hunt within the organization itself. With the loss of the Leningrad system, it was major blow to morale to the Rodina, and a major scandal. Heads were literally rolling because of it. If the rumors were true, several members of the NKVD had been replaced and sent to new assignments in the Siberia region of the state, and there were also rumors that several officers who had been in charge of that area were replaced, those that had escaped at least. Zhukov, and other members of his staff, worried that it would affect the overall war effort, but they were hoping that they would be able to continue with their planned operations.

Standing there, Stalin glared at both officers with an icy stare that could cause lesser men to piss themselves. Eventually, after several minutes of silence, Stalin spoke. “So tell me, why should I not have you replaced when the Leningrad System, the birthplace of the Revolution, that has stood for years of siege, fell to the Hitlerites? Is there a reason why this happened, or is it just incompetence?”

Neither man answered, both unsure on who he was asking, but Stalin answered their question when he looked over at Zhukov. “Comrade Premier,” Zhukov stared, “The system had stood for years with the heroic effort of the people. From the reports that had been sent out from there, the people fought to the very end, and gutted the Getov assaults. By the time it was over, there was only a single force remaining with the rest in disarray.”

“I know how the people fought, Comrade General. What I want to know is how this is possible? Who allowed this to happen?” he demanded.

Zhukov had prepared an explanation for this ever since he heard that the system had fallen. “The GRU had received reports that the Getov were planning on launching an offensive into the system from our allies in Albion. I had planned on sending reinforcements into that system, but I was overruled in that area.” He risked a glance to see the commissar pale slightly. “The NKVD commissars attached to our units had come to believe that the Allies and the Getov intelligence services were working together secretly to bring us down.”

“Did you have proof of this, Commissar Rozovsky?” Stalin asked.

The lack of the ‘comrade’ moniker was not lost, and showed just how unsteady the situation was. “There was nothing substantial,” he started. “It was just rumors…”

“I don’t want rumors! I want facts!” Stalin roared. “It seems to me that the GRU and other military commanders knew something was about to happen, but the agency that is supposed to be the shield and sword of the Rodina stopped them from doing their job! And because of the Hitlerites infiltrating the NKVD, you may not have directly helped them, but you did give them the chance to take the heart of the Revolution from us!”

Rozovsky, surprisingly, stood firm from the man’s fury, but was silent.

Ignoring the man’s lack of a response, Stalin turned back to Zhukov. “Comrade General Zhukov, I want the Leningrad system retaken immediately! This takes priority over everything else. The birthplace of the Revolution will not be allowed to stay under the rule of those fascists pigs! Whatever you need, I will make sure that you have it.”

“Yes, Comrade Premier,” Zhukov said. “I must inform you, that the system has been reinforced since its fall. Albion, and our sources in the system show that the three more formations from Getov had arrived. However, I believe that I can contain them within that system and then move to take it within two months.”

Stalin was quiet for a moment before responding, “You have two months, Comrade. Do not fail me, or you will end up in the same place as Beria. Do I make myself clear?”

“I understand, Comrade Premier.”

Stalin turned his attention back to Rozovsky. “Commissar, you will work with Zhukov and the GRU. Make sure that you or your colleagues do not interfere with their operations. Do you understand this, or will a trip to the gulag have to be done?”

Zhukov watched as the color drailed from the man’s face. “No, Comrade Premier. I will not fail you or Comrade Zhukov.”

Stalin nodded after several seconds of silence. “See that you don’t or I will ensure that you and your fellow commissars join your associate Beria.”

When the imaged faded, Zhukov let out a breath that he hadn’t known he had held. It had been years since he had to face the most feared man in Soviet history, but he was glad to know that he wasn’t the object for the man’s furry.

Rozovsky was visibly stunned, and Zhukov could see the man was literally shaking from fear. Outward, the general was stonefaced, but inside, he was smiling. He managed to get the NKVD off his back and bring the GRU into a better position politically. Now, he just had to ensure that he could reclaim the Leningrad system in time, otherwise, everything would come apart and he would be sent out to count trees. He suppressed a shutter and decided that he needed to consult with Konev on this matter. He have have won a victory here, but the war was far from over, and it would only get more difficult from here.

Chapter Text

Year 14, Month 04, Day 07

Yunnan, Yunnan System

Republic of Kunia

General Sun, along with General Wei sat as they looked around the conference room. There were several seats that circled a large table, and each of them were filled. However, there was a difference in who occupied them. All the seats in the room, were occupied by holograms. It was something that Sun was greatly impressed by. The technology of the galaxy allowed for some of the top members of the KMT to keep in touch. He had also seen it at its worst, however, like when Generalissimo Chiang would constantly attempt to interfere with his operations. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on who you asked, the man had been killed when the Katanian military conducted a raid that killed the man and several others.

Looking around, he could see several faces that he remembered. One of those was General Chen Cheng, who during the Northern Expedition displayed his excellent leadership ability and within a year of conquest, was promoted from commanding battalions to divisions. He had also pushed the idea that the Kuomintang seek decisive action in the south rather than confront the Japanese in Northern China where Chinese forces were in poor condition and lacked proper transportation. He would later have been Chief of the General Staff, Vice-President and later Premier of the Republic of China, and responsible for instituting reforms on Taiwan that allowed the Kuomintang to stay in power. He would also become commander of the Northeastern Theater against the Communists after the war with Japan. That command was also a bitter moment for General Sun, because despite Chen's experience in the past, he had made the mistake of dissolving the local security regiments because they had worked with the Japanese during the occupation. Chen had also dismissed several notable and capable commanders, including himself, Du Yuming, Zheng Dongguo and Chen Mingren. While Sun wasn't prideful enough to believe that he could have stopped the Communists from taking over, he was sure that they could have delayed them enough to where even Chiang could have rebuilt another army.

To Chen's right sat General Bai Chongxi. A warlord of Muslim faith, he had a relationship with Chiang that could be considered cooperative at times and rivalrous at others. He had originally been part of the Anti-Chiang Warlord Alliance prior to the invasion of the Japanese Empire into China, and that history had remained the same in the Sector as well. If the war had continued as it had then, Bai would have brought the first major victory in the Civil War over the Communists after the defeat of Katania, defeating Lin Biao. However, Chiang's distrust would once again get in the way, and Bai would have been placed in a position with no power and Chiang would interfere with military operations. Sun remembered how Chiang had wanted to hold the provincial capitals and leave the Communists the countryside, a tactic that proved to be the downfall of the KMT.

General Li Zongren sat to the right of Bai, and the both of them had ruled Guangxi together as a warlord council. When the Communists had begun their war with the KMT, Li had become on the commanding generals in the Northern Expedition. He was a strong anti-Communist, he had a large part in the White Terror, but would later have a falling out with Chiang and returned to Guangxi. When the Japanese invaded, Li had been placed in command of the Fifth War Zone, and won a smashing victory against the Japanese at Taierzhuang, bringing one of their first major victories. Right now, he was Director of the Generalissimo's Headquarters, and from the rumors that had been spread, it was a post that the man hated.

Sun knew that feeling. Both of them being men of action, and sitting on the sidelines was not something that either of them took too well. He also remembered how Li had been acting President of China after Chiang had resigned, but would run afoul Chiang once again and would lose any military advantage until he was finally defeated. Sun remembered the man as an ardent militarist and confirmed anti-intellectual, but with a rugged sense of integrity. He also had noticed that the man had a different leg, and when he had asked about it earlier, he had been told that the Katanians' raid that killed Chiang had also injured Li, who now had a prosthetic limb.

Hu Lien was three seats down from Bai's left, and he was well known for his actions at the Battle of Shanghai, where he had been in command of a regiment and wounded several times. He had been promoted to commander of a division after that battle was over. When the Japanese military attempted to complete their invasion plan of Sichuan, they attacked Western Hubei, hoping to destroy Chiang's last remaining power base, but under Hu's leadership, the 18th Corps repulsed the Japanese attack.

After the war, Hu would have commanded a firefighting brigade around central and eastern China, where he was successful in fighting against the communist forces. He was also a man of daring. Sun remembered hearing how when the 12th Army was surrounded by the Communist troops in Anhui province, Hu was flown in a small airplane in the battle field and personally led a rescue mission and breakout from the encirclement with the remnant of the 12th. He would be one of those few that was good at their job and awarded for it by Chiang.

General Wei and Sun sat at the far end, but both of them knew what the other was thinking. With Chiang dead, they were both worried and anxious about what this would entail for the overall war effort. No doubt several military commanders would be able to do their job better without his interference, but with Chiang gone, those that supported him will attempt to gain as much power as possible. Internal fighting could be just as bad as fighting the Communists and Katanians at the same time. There was, however, a small bit of hope. It was the person who had called for this entire meeting in the first place.

Said person stood out of place amongst everyone in the room, for it was a woman. In her own seat, a calm but confident look on her face, Soong Mei-ling sat before them. The widow of Chiang Kai-shek, known by many as Madam Chiang, was a well-respected individual in a society that considered women to below men. A political shark in her own right, she was valued abroad, especially in America, where she had spent months gathering support for the Nationalist war effort. At this time, it was unknown what position she would hold, but Sun wondered if perhaps she would try and move into a leadership role in Kunia's government.

"Thank you for the gathering together," she said finally, after everyone had become situated. "I know that many of us here were shocked about the death of my husband, but we cannot allow this to affect how the war is to be fought. It is not what he would have wanted." She sat up straighter and continued. "He would have wanted us to continue this fight until the Katanians were pushed out of all Kunian lands!"

"Strong words, Lady Chiang," Chen said, "However, shouldn't you been in mourning? No doubt you will wish to prepare for the funeral that your husband would have wanted."

"My husband would have wanted us to win this war," she replied firmly. "I may be a woman, but I know the inner workings of the government just as well as my husband, and I have the respect of many abroad, which can prove useful to our cause."

"We do not need the assistance of the foreign devils," one of the many commanders in the room retorted. "This is a Kunian war and we will do this without their assistance."

"With all due respect, we need their help in this war," Sun said. "This is going to be a war that exhausts us. We have been fighting for so long that we will not come out of this war intact without their help. After the Katanians are defeated, do you think the Communists are going to allow us to rebuild?"

"Of course not," Chen replied confidently. "But we'll wipe them out like we did before."

"Then you are a fool," Li Zongien countered gruffly. "While we fight the Katanians, they build up their powerbase and grow in numbers." He looked around at everyone and gave a hard stare. "We've been working together against the Katanians, but we spend as much time fighting each other as we do the invaders. That will not help us, and we need the foreigners' help."

"What do you think they will demand in return," another asked. Everyone looked to see General Du Yuming with his arms crossed. "They provided the opium, they took our ports and cities, and they poison our culture with their ideas! What will they demand from us this time?"

A stable government that doesn't fall to the damn Communists, Sun thought.

"They see us as a powerful ally," Madam Chiang said. "I have been working with them closely and with the Bamar Route reopened, they will be able to provide us with more aide than before. We have Generals Sun and Wei to thank for that." She turned to face them and nodded in appreciation. "Congratulations to the both of you. I'm sure that if my husband were still alive he would wish to thank you personally."

The both of them nodded in acknowledgement, though they doubted that they would have been praised so well if the Generalissimo had lived. Disobeying direct orders was frowned upon and could easily get a man killed, and with the death of Chiang, there might still be some of his faction that would see Sun and Wei as potential threats to their powerbase.

"And what about foreign influence?" another asked. "I could care less about the Americans and those others from Europa. They may be foreign devils, but at least they are Terran. I'm talking about the aliens that have become part of this conflict?"

Sun inwardly frowned. He knew that this question was pointed toward him since he had the largest number of aliens in his command, and it was growing steadily as more were liberated by the Albion Navy as they stopped more slave vessels.

Our chain of command has been thrown into disarray and you are worried about alien influences?" General Li Zongren asked, in an almost patronizing tone. "Everyone here knows that I trust foreigners only as much as needed, but to worry about the potential of General Sun's command being corrupted is beyond what is socially acceptable, especially from a military man."

The officer tried to defend himself saying, "I did not—"

"Do not tell me that you were not accusing General Sun," Li growled. "I have seen the man's actions over the past year and he has performed superbly. Instead of pointing fingers at each other, we need to focus on rebuilding our chain of command and ensuring that in the event that something like this happens again, we have contingencies."

"I agree with General Li on the matter," General Bai added. "This crippling attack will only serve to increase Katanian and Communist efforts to overthrow us. We need a solution on how to run the country until a time that we can properly rebuild."

"I have given much thought on that," Madam Chiang commented. When everyone turned toward her, she continued. "What I recommend is that a council be set up to run the daily operations of the country. From the daily operations of the government to the diplomatic missions needed to maintain our stance among the rest of the sector."

"And what about the military?" General Hu asked.

"They would be represented on the council as well," General Chen explained. "This is a matter that myself, Madam Chiang, and others have discussed since the death of Generalissimo Chiang." Several of the officers began to voice their opinions of not being included in these discussions, but Chen held up his hand. "We cannot interrupt the many operations that are taking place, and so this matter was discussed among the higher members of the military."

"In time, it will be announced who will be on the Council, but until then, General Chen Cheng will be in charge of the military and continue our fight against the Katanian invaders and gain the support of the rest of the Sector to finally defeat the Communists," Madam Chiang explained. She turned to General Sun. "Your army has performed extremely well and with the Bamar Route reopened, we can receive a steady supply of material from the rest of the Allies. I am considering visiting your army in person. I have heard much of their exploits, especially those of your aliens and I would like to meet them."

Everyone in the room was quiet for several seconds as some showed surprise on their faces. Some would no doubt see this as a chance to try and gain more influence within the KMT, but Sun had a different suspicion. Madam Chiang was a political shark, and a woman. That meant that she could easily be underestimated, but he was trying to figure out just what she was aiming for.

"Of course, Madam Chiang," General Sun said finally. "Just let me know when you would like to meet them and I will make the arrangements."

"I was thinking within two weeks," she explained. "There are people who are very interested in seeing just how well these beings are performing."

Both Sun and Wei glanced at each other. This was unexpected, but there was little for the both of them to do. "I look forward to seeing you then, Madam Chiang."

"That's good, General."

The meeting lasted for another couple of hours, but Sun listened only partially. He was too busy trying to figure out just what Lady Chiang was planning. Wanting to see the alien troops and bringing people who were interested in them was nagging at him. He tried to think who would be interested in them. Maybe it was members of the Albion and American governments? They would be interested in see just how his alien soldiers performed. It wasn't until he mentioned everything to his Wookiee comrade Lofykam that he explained it.

"Generrral, I think she plans on bringing people frrrrom the Rrrepublic," the Wookie said. "This means she might be planning to gain their supporrrt."

That would be an interesting change, Sun though. Earning the Republic's support would increase her standing within the Sector, and make her a powerful player in the Kunia leadership. She was already partially in charge of international relations with the other Allied and was very capable politically, and internationally, she was well respect. She was also a Christian, which was a positive aspect when dealing with the Americans and Albion. Her accepting of aliens in his command was another feature that was good, and he made a mental note to try and talk with her about moving into a higher position. While he had been under house arrest, he remembered hearing that Lady Chiang had attempted to return to Taiwan after Chiang had died. While she had been unsuccessful at the time, he was certain, that perhaps now she could do something to bring the Kuomintang into a more stable situation. He would have to think about this, and discuss it with those he could trust. He hated dealing with the politics of being a staff officer, but he knew that this was for a better Kunia, and hopefully one that wouldn't fall so easily to the Communists.

Year 14, Month 04, Day 11
The Senate Building
Coruscant, the Galactic Republic



Senator Franklin Roosevelt shifted in his seat as he sat through another session of the Senate. Despite the war being the main attention of the Republic government, there were other things that had to be taken care of as well. The refugee crisis was still a strain on the limited resources that the Republic had, and there was the infrastructure that still needed to be maintained to ensure that the people had the necessary utilities.

Since the start of the new year, the Clone Wars had shown nothing but a series embarrassments for the Republic. A corridor of Mid Rim industrial worlds in the Slice, a span of the galaxy that followed the Perlemian Trade Route, which included the Metalorn, Saleucami and Quermia Systems, had declared for the Separatists, forming the core of the CIS' industry and had become known as the "Foundry of the Confederacy". The war had come to the Core this year as well.

Just before the beginning of the year, the Republic had launched an attack to retake the planet Brentaal IV. Brentaal IV sat at the crossroads of the Hydian and the Perlemian Trade Route, the galaxy's two most vital super-hyperroutes, controlling access to the Core and the Rim and of vast importance to the Republic. However, outside the planet's noble houses and trade guilds, the people of Brentaal desired to join the Separatists. The corruption that the Republic was so well known for was deep in the leadership and one of the clan leaders, Shogar Tok, incited the people to riot against the Republic-friendly planetary government. Jedi Master Plo Koon led the attack on the planet, overseeing a task force under the command of three Jedi and a large compliment of clones. However, Tok's army had managed to gain control of Brentaal IV's defenses. When the Republic fleet arrived and began their invasion, Tok’s forces waited for them to land before unleashing an ambush that inflicted heavy casualties on Republic forces.

The Republic had been close to withdrawing, but Jedi High General Shaak Ti led an attack on Tok’s headquarters, destroying the planet’s shield generator, allowing General Plo Koon to land and secure Brentaal. The battle had been heavy, with over twenty-five percent of the Republic task force lost, and half injured. The system had been declared liberated, but an insurrection was continuing, as Tok’s followers still did what they could to cause problems for the Republic garrison.

Other parts of the Core were beginning to experience the war, with the Republic Loyalist world Kuat and the Separatist world Neimoidia seeding the hyperlanes surrounding them with mines, effectively rendering the heart of the Hydian Way impassable. It had caused all sorts of problems, with the prices on goods on Coruscant and other planets in the Core to increasing. It had been a source of many debates in the Senate, with many calling for action to retake the Neimoidia System and the clearing of those lanes.

Two months prior, a task force had been formed to clear it, but the Kuati defense force had been unwilling to commit any vessels to assist them. The resulting battle between the Trade Federation Fleet and Republic vessels had been a colossal failure, and the public had been kept in the dark to avoid loss in Republic morale. The Senate, however, was attempting to finger the blame on someone. Some blamed the Kuati military for not assisting the strike force, saying that their assistance would have ensured a victory, while the government of Kuat countered saying that the Republic had run into a situation that they had warned was too risky and had needed to maintain their fleet since they were so close to the headquarters of the Trade Federation. Arguments and shouting matches became so common that several Senators had to be escorted out, and placed under guard for threats that had been thrown. A fist fight had even broken out between a Kuati aide and another from Duro who had lost family on one of the vessels.

The Separatists don’t have to win the war, Roosevelt had thought after hearing that had happened. All they would have to do is wait for us to destroy ourselves from within. He had expressed his concerns to Senator Bail Organa, who was one of several who was concerned on how politics was playing a larger part in the fighting, instead of everyone uniting to keep the Republic from crumbling.

“Some of these hatreds are as old as the galaxy itself,” he explained during one of their lunches. “Sometimes is over territory that had been lost, or religious points of view. Other times, it’s over backing out of an alliance. There are even cases where it’s over a minor insult.”

“Everything is just fractured,” Roosevelt replied, shaking his head. “I know that there are dozens, if not hundreds of Senators who want to see this war fought properly and over with, but politics seems to get in the way more often than not.” He lit a cigarette as he had continued. “A thousand years the Republic has stood, and you would think that they would know how to work together, but I suppose that they will always look out for their own self interests.”

“This war has caused the corruption in the Senate to grow considerably. We’ve already heard of the war profiteering that several systems are gaining from this war. The Kuati aristocracy is pushing for us to purchase ships only from them, and using their lobbyists to convince others that it is best. They are using the threat of Neimoidia to convince the Armed Services Committee that they should be the main focus.”

“Don’t get me started on the Kaminoan and the IGBC,” Roosevelt almost snarled. “Senator Burtoni may be innocent of the crimes that killed Senator Farr, but she’s using it to discredit our attempts to limit the purchase of more clones, and the Muuns are garnering their influence as well. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it this bad before in my government.”

“I hope that it never does, Franklin,” Bail said. “Too many democratic governments fall into political backstabbing. We need to maintain the ideals that they stand for.”

The conversation with Bail had happened a week prior, and during that time, the Separatists launched a raid on Coruscant and targeted the Jedi Temple and Archives. The media had dubbed it the Coruscant Insurrection, and it involved Count Dooku himself and one of his dark acolytes with a small force of C-B3 cortosis battle droids. During the attack, battle droids terrorizing the civilians throughout the High City, and were only beaten back after Republic Security Forces, and the Jedi stormed their defenses. It was after the fighting was over that Roosevelt managed to meet some of the most famous Jedi: Obi-wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker.

Franklin enjoyed Kenobi’s company, and saw him as a little cynical, though very wise for someone who was still relatively young. He was also humble and had a soft-spoken demeanor which hid his warrior prowess, an aspect that he admired in the man, and carefully measured his actions in any situation. Kenobi was also known to be an accomplished storyteller, and found himself laughing as some that they shared about their younger years. In many ways, Kenobi personified the strengths of the Jedi Order. He was modest, selfless, and steadfast.

While Obi-wan Kenobi was patient and thought things through, Commander Anakin Skywalker was cocky and self-appreciating. However, he couldn’t doubt that the man was a brilliant commander, and didn’t lack courage or determination. Roosevelt could tell, though, that the man did not trust politicians, and considering how the Senate was, he couldn’t really blame the man for that opinion. There was one thing about the man that Franklin noticed: He was the poster child of the Republic Military. Every exploit that he did and every victory had earned him the name “Hero with No Fear”, and he could tell that he enjoyed it.

He loves being in the spotlight, he thought to himself as he read on the famous Jedi. Glory and fame. Roosevelt couldn’t help but think of a few commanders back on Earth who fit the same bill, but while they were only normal people, a Jedi with those kinds of traits could be dangerous.

Following the raid, where several droids were still unaccounted for and continued to attack targets of opportunity, Palpatine and several Senators were pushing for a bill to purchase another shipment of clone troopers, to include a special batch, dubbed clone shock troopers to be created and trained on Coruscant itself, rather than Kamino, where they would and operate as a martial police force.

This was something that Roosevelt was not willing to support, and was building up support to defeat this bill, and well as the recent proposal for new clones to be purchased. He was beginning to see the formation of something dangerous, especially with the Senate beginning to pass more power to the Chancellor. This was preying on citizen's fear and Palpatine was also pushing for the creation of the War Council Advisory Panel and the Homeworld Security Command. A lot of Senators saw this as a necessary step to protect the capital, but it would place the clone shock troopers under his control and possibly turn Coruscant into a police state. He was far from the only one who saw this, and he and over a five hundred fellow delegates were pushing for something different.

Looking around the Senate Chamber, he was thinking just how much this speech would influence others who were on the sidelines. No one wanted to see the Republic go further into down the hole, but with the war and how things are going, many were afraid that to stand in the way of the fighting would only threaten the survival of the Republic.

When the floor became open, Roosevelt took a deep breath and stood. Calmly, he called out, “Chancellor, Senator Roosevelt of the United Systems of America requests to speak.”

He could see Chancellor Palpatine look over at him and felt something in the back of his mind that was chilling, but ignored it. “The floor recognizes Senator Roosevelt of the United Systems of America. You may speak.”

“Thank you, Chancellor.” Roosevelt’s aide took the controls of the box and brought them to the middle of the chamber. Looking around him, he could see those that were empty, representing the systems that had joined the Separatists, and those that were occupied by his friends and allies. He had his wife go over his speech, and she had made the appropriate changes to convey what needed to be said. He was lucky to have his wife here with him on the planet. She was always someone he could count on.

Taking one last breath, Roosevelt began his speech. “Chancellor and fellow Senators,” he started as everyone’s attention was on him. “For over a year, the Clone War has ravaged the galaxy and shows little signs stopping. In this terrible conflict, I have seen the results of the atrocities committed by the Separatists. The viral outbreaks and terrorist actions that they have conducted on the beings across the galaxy cannot be disregarded. However, I have also seen the good. The acts of Senators Amidala and Senator Organa who are working to assist those who have been displaced by this war. It shows, that even in the darkest moments of this war, there are still glimmers of hope.

However, I cannot condone the purchasing of more clone troopers. The Intergalactic Banking Clan has loaned us the money to purchase more, but with an interest rate of twenty-five percent. Can we truly afford to do this? Is this what we want to leave for our children? A government that cannot even pay to help those who have fought to ensure the Republic survives?

“I say no! We all should be working together to bring this conflict to an end. In the United Systems, everyone, from all walks of life, are working together toward a common goal: an ending of the war! We should follow that example. This is not a war over a few rogue systems. This is a war for the preservation of the Republic, which has stood for over a thousand years, and I will not allow myself to sit by and watch it drift further and further into the abyss. We all should be united in this: Ithorians from Ithor, Wookiees from Kashyyyk, Twi’leks from Ryloth, and the others species across the galaxy should come together, to bring this war to an end and preserve the light in the galaxy, which is the Republic.

“This is a war that involves everyone, which is why we should expand the Judicial Forces into a true military, and not rely solely on the cloners from Kamino. Let us show that this is a fight for the betterment of the galaxy, and prove not only to ourselves, but to future generations that this would be our finest hour!”

The chamber was filled with applause as everyone was moved by the words of the human senator. Roosevelt looked over to his friend, Senator Organa and saw him give a slight bow. Returning it, he couldn’t help, but hope that his words would convince other in the Senate to follow his idea. Time would only tell.

Year 14, Month 04, Day 16
Kiev System
The Union of Ukraina Federated Worlds
The Rarus Federation


“You are right, Comrade,” Konev said as he looked over the battle plan that Zhukov had shown him for the upcoming attack to retake the Leningrad System.

It was just the two of them right now. Time away from the politics of command and the constant scrutiny by the NKVD, which had been greatly reduced since the loss of the same system earlier in the year. Instead, it was just the two of them, the only ones that they could truly trust, to begin the initial plans on retaking the Leningrad System from the fascists.

“It is going to require us moving different formations across the board, but it should give us the necessary numbers needed to crush them and retake the system. The Hitlerites will feel our wrath,” Zhukov said confidently.

Konev was confident that they would. They would outnumber the Getov forces by 2:1 in heavy formations and 3:1 in support, but he still had reservations on this operation. “I just worry that your promise to Comrade Stalin was too optimistic.”

Zhukov’s face hardened at the mention of their leader. “I probably could have asked for a little more time, but our ‘dear’ leader is pushing for more results. It’s not near as bad as when the war was fresh, but some commanders are beginning to feel the pressure. We’re just fortunate that most of his anger is focused on the NKVD.”

Nodding in agreement, Konev had no qualms on the agency that would eventually turn into the KGB. “Did you hear the rumors about what happened to Comrade Beria?” He had sat as Chairmain of the Court for the man’s trial back on Earth

“Which one, Comrade?” Zhukov asked, giving his friend a reproachful look. “The one where he was shot and his family sent the bill, the one where was sent out to Siberia, or the one where Stalin had his balls cut off?” His disdain for the man was not uncommon among the top echelons of the government. None of them left their wives or daughters in the same room with the man, not even Stalin himself, and for good reason.

Lavrentiy Beria, a man from the same region as Stalin, and who is/was one of the most powerful men in the Federation. He simultaneously administered vast sections of the Federation and served as a de facto Marshal of the Rarus Federation in command of the NKVD field units responsible for anti-Nazi partisan operations. He would also be placed on trial for treason, counter-revolutionary activity, and terrorism after the death of Stalin, and while the charges would be thin, it did remove and ambitious and dangerous man. He was suspected of raping several women while he had been head of the NKVD. He would have his bodyguards drive him through Moscow and pick up women off the streets, rape them, and then give them a bouquet of flowers to show that it was “consensual”. It wasn’t just women off the streets, there were several Party officials whose wives had been subject to his advances and assaults.

“He’s been placed under house arrest,” Konev replied. “I have a contact in the GRU who managed to find out what happened to him. Stalin plans to keep him alive until the war is over.”

Zhukov grimaced slightly. “That man is a degenerate, but I won’t deny that he’s essential for us to win this war. At least he’s surrounded by a battalion of Red Army soldiers. That should keep any of his supporters from doing anything foolish.

“Back to the matter at hand, do you have anything to add, Comrade?” Zhukov asked.

“It’s risky, Comrade,” Konev said, looking over the plan. “We’ll be stripping General Rokossovsky’s command of most of his forces in Belya Rus to retake that system, and he won’t like that. Redeploying most of the heavy units that we have along the front to that offensive is going to cause problems if the fascists attempt to take advantage of this.”

“Which is why we are going to have our attack coincide with the Allied invasion of Europa,” Zhukov explained. “With the NKVD no longer interfering with our operations, Albion’s intelligence services have been providing us with detailed information on the Getov forces in the system, so we know what to expect, and how to counter them. We know that OVERLORD is coming, and we know that Hitler knows that it’s coming. That madman will want to keep them from getting a foothold, and he’ll think that he’s bought himself some time on this front with his victory. When he’s busy trying to keep the Americans and Albion militaries from storming into Floevis, we’ll take advantage and retake Leningrad.”

Konev was quiet for several seconds before he asked the one question that was bothering him. “And if the Allies fail and we are stretched too thin to stop the Hitlerites in another push to Moscow?”

Zhukov looked his comrade in the eyes and with a serious tone, he said, “As the Americans put it: We’re fucked.”

Year 14, Month 04, Day 20
Berlin, Getov Prime
Greater Getov Reich


Hitler looked over the datapad that had been handed to him, concentrating on the preparations that the Getov military was taking for the upcoming Allied invasion in the Brittany System. Two hours earlier, a meeting with the Getov High Command had brought about results that had been expected. The victory in Leningrad had showed that the Fuhrer was still to be trusted, and that the SS and Teutonic Knights were a force that could equal and even surpass that of the regular military. The victory had also caused the officers to trust in his judgement that Brittany would be the focus of the Allied invasion, and while it was known that several of the general officers questioned his belief on this, they kept such comments to those who shared similar ideals, and those were the ones that he had under observation for disloyalty.

On the intelligence side, Admiral Canaris’ Abwehr was providing information that he was not surprised to see. The Republic fleet that had arrived within the Sector the previous year had been busy with their exercises with their Allied counterparts, and while gathering operations on the American and Albion fleets was difficult, the Republic vessels were more lax in their pickets. A couple of raiders had managed to make it passed their patrols and enter one of the ports that housed several of the Republic’s capital ships. While they were unable to provide information on the detail of the invasion, the communications they intercepted indicated that Brittany would indeed be the focus of the invasion. This was enough to convince some of the more outspoken officers in the High Command that Heydrich’s vision was indeed correct.

“Good news, Mein Fuhrer?” Field Marshal Model asked.

Hitler looked up from his reading, and gave the man a small smile, having the satisfaction of seeing the man shutter a little. “It is good news, Field Marshal. The Allies are following what we remember. The date is still uncertain though. This strange galactic calendar is different from anything I’m used to, but we can be certain that the invasion will begin later this month or early next month.”

“That is good to hear.” Model paused for a moment before he continued. “Mein Fuhrer, do you think it is wise that you allow Admiral Canaris to keep his position? He was one of the conspirators that planned to overthrow your leadership.”

Hitler held back his anger. This was an argument that the both of them have had since the reveal that they had come from Earth together. “He may betray me, but he is under observation, as are the others that we remember. Right now they have little reason to do so. The war against the Bolsheviks is going well and after we throw the Allies back out of the Europa, they will have little reason to question my leadership. I do plan on replacing all of those Old Prussian officers with proper Aryan men. The SS and Teutonic Knights will be the leaders of the new Getov military when the time comes, and if they still plan on resisting my leadership, the Knights will know of it long before it happens. Reinhard Heidrich has been very useful with his visions of the future.”

Model held his opinion on the subject of visions through the Force. He remembered how Kuhn had warned that visions were only useful in showing possible outcomes of events, and Hitler relying on them to make strategic decisions was one of the few questionable acts that he has seen the Fuhrer take. “Has the Grand Master Heydrich seen anything new with his visions?”

“It has been the same as before: An invasion on the planet that has been identified as Brittany, and has seen more detail of the battle. The Jedi and Republic commanders will experience heavy resistance, and suffer for it,” the Fuhrer said confidently.

“What has the OKW said on the preparations on the defenses of the system?”

Hitler smiled, and brought up an image of the system. “The system has been reinforced with several orbital defense stations, and two hyper-velocity guns have been placed on the planet in secret.” The hologram showed the locations of these defenses as he continued, “Minefields, defense satellites, and a fleet on standby, waiting for hit these dogs from behind.


“This will give them such a defeat, that it will cause them to sue for peace,” Hitler said confidently. “No nation, not even those under the influence of the untermensch will be able to continue a fight that will cost so much. They do not have our Will to continue.”



Model nodded. This sort of defeat, with the loss of the Republic fleet, and thousands of men from across the Allied Powers, would set them back for a few years at the least. That would give them the time to focus on destroying that nation that was the home of the communist ideology. Komtur Kuhn had messaged him saying that the systems that made up the Arkangelsk Region of the Rarus Federation was barely defended, if at all, and had requested several times to advance, but Model had denied his requests to do so until he returned to that region. He didn’t doubt that man’s information, but he questioned the man’s commanding ability of multiple formations from different branches of the Getov military.

“It is a good plan, Mein Fuhrer. With the Americans and Albion defeated, the Rarus will fall before our might. They are teetering on the edge with the loss of the Leningrad System. One more deep push and they will crumble.”

“Indeed, Field Marshall.” He turned to look at the map. “The Reich will stand for a thousand years, and after we have taken this Sector, we’ll move down the Hydian Way and into the heart of the Republic.” Hitler turned again to face Model. “The corruption has rotted them from the inside and we’ll purge it, starting with the aliens who have made it their whore.”

“What do you have planned?” Model was extremely curious. He hadn’t given much thought to events outside of the Terran Sector other than some small bits about the Clone Wars.

Hitler couldn’t help but puff up with pride as he explained. “When the Allies realize that they cannot defeat us, I will offer them the chance to ending the fighting between us. It will give us time to focus on the damn Bolsheviks and destroy the Slavs.”

The map began to change, showing the advance of the Getov military out of the Leningrad System and cutting off the Rarus military from Moscow, leaving a longer route through the Stalingrad System for them to use. “If you are wondering how we would be able to take Moscow, I have had SS-Obergruppenführer von Ribbentrop in contact with the Confederacy of Independent System. He has convinced them that after we have repelled the Allied invasion of Floevis, that they will send another fleet to assist our Katanian ‘allies’. They had proven that they are no match for the Americans and will be swept aside when the time is right.

The map zoomed out to show the “northeastern” quadrant of the galaxy. Hitler then continued his grand strategy. “Using the Terran Sector as a launching point, we’ll use the Hydian Way as a path to the Core of the galaxy, smashing anyone who opposes us and claiming all systems as part of the Reich!”

“Will we be taking command of the Confederacy’s fleet when they arrive?” Model asked. He had read some on the high ranking commanders of the Confederacy, and none of them showed any actual military experience except for a few notable ones. Many seemed to be more comfortable in a board meeting than commanding fleets.

Hitler nodded. “Ribbentrop has assured me that they will allow it. They believed that we were incompetent because the Katanians lost half of the fleet that was to assist them, but they were convince of our superiority after the fall of Leningrad.”

Model thought for a moment. To be in command of millions of droids that would do his bidding without question. It would be perfect. He wouldn’t rely exclusively on them, however. Only a fool would do so. He would use them to augment his own forces, using Getov formations as Stormtroopers while the droids swarmed through the breaches. He couldn’t help but smile at the thought of it all.

“I take it that you are satisfied with this, Field Marshall?” Hitler asked.

Model broke himself from his stupor and nodded. “Apologizes, Mein Fuhrer. I was just thinking of how victory will be ours. No successful invasion of Normandy, no Red Army pressing them from the East, and with enough time, the Allies will be pushed from the rest of Europa.” That was when a thought suddenly came to him. “What will be done with the Allied forces in Noria? They have been in place for months now.”

Hitler’s face darkened. That was a failure that he was still hoping to rectify. He had hoped that warning Mussolini about the coup would keep such an event from happening, but instead, the man arrested the Norian Royal Family and dismissed most of the General Staff, causing a civil war. Noria was now divided, with Mussolini controlling only a single planet out of a nation of four. “Our defenses in that nation will hold until we have removed the threat of the Allies and Rarus Federation. The systems favor defenders, so we will allow them to come to us and bleed them white. When the time is right, we will wipe them out. All of them.”

“What of Rommel? He is still in command of the Albion forces in that theater.”

Hitler resisted the urge to shout at the man for even mentioning his name. The fact that one of the greatest commanders had defected to the Allies, but had also taken up arms against the Fatherland, was a slight that he would not overlook. “When the time comes, I want him killed in the most horrible way possible. Perhaps I will give him to Grant Master Heydrich amuse himself with.”

Model couldn’t help but smile at the thought of that stuck-up General finally getting what he deserved. All of them had this coming. Their attitudes and they looking down at him were too much. What gave them the right to think they were better? Because they were born into some family or another? No, Model would see that they all suffered for their arrogance.

Chapter Text

Year 14, Month 04, Day 27
Supreme Commander of the Allied Forces HQ
Roma, Kingdom of Noria



Field Marshal Harold Alexander took a sip from his small glass of alcohol. He was still getting used to the rank, though it would technically be the second time for him. The first time hadn’t happened until after Rome had been captured, during the invasions of Normandy. This time, he had received it after the beginning of the new year. It was a promotion that he welcomed, including resuming command of a position that came with a lot of responsibility. Supreme Commander of the Allied Forces Headquarters, where he commanded all Allied forces in the Mediterranean Theater. He had Prime Minister Churchill and General Eisenhower to thank for his rapid advancement, and had his command of all Allied forces in Noria passed to American General Mark Clark, who now dealt with a far larger area of responsibility.


The Norian Front may have quieted down since the beginning of the year, but that didn’t mean that his job was any less stressful. No, he was busy ensuring that Getov-backed partisan activity continued to drop, and much of that was because of King Emmanuel III. The King had offered fair treatment to any that surrendered. Those who had sided with Mussolini, the junior and mid-grade personnel would be forgiven for their actions and allowed to return to their homes and contribute to the war effort on the home front, while senior officers and enlisted would be placed in POW camps until the end of the war. The Getov forces that had remained were no longer the problem they had been earlier in the campaign. While there were still some holdouts, their actions were becoming less coordinated and more infrequent. Before too long, things would be quiet enough to where the Royal Norian Military would be able to take care of things planet-side while the Allies focused on other theaters.


The Balkans was a region of the sector was as much a hotbed of partisan activity as it had been on Earth, if not more so since that entire region was made up of twelve systems, with over half of them experiencing strong resistance movements. Jugoslavia (Yugoslavia) was the most contested, with there being a three-way conflict between the Getov military, the communists, and Chetniks. The Hellenic Kingdom (Greece) was just as bad, if not worse since many of the fighters were veterans of fighting in the asteroid heavy system. There were cases of supply convoys entering a field on one side with full escort and only half of them surviving, all of them would claim tales of craft that appeared out of nowhere and disappear just as quickly. The communists had been the major player in all of these resistance movements, but he had made it a priority to try and curtail some of their influence in operations, with some of the more experienced Hellenic commandos to return and help train others in guerilla warfare.


A knock at the door brought him out of his thoughts and said, “Enter!”


Through the door walking in General Erwin Rommel, who respectfully saluted. “Field Marshal Alexander.”


Standing up before returning the salute, Alexander replied. “Good to see you, General. How goes the training of the Norian ground forces?”


“Sir, the Norians are taking what we are teaching them to heart. I have never doubted their ability or courage. It’s their equipment that is lacking, but with our help, they should be ready to maintain their own defense,” Rommel explained with pride.


“That’s good to hear,” Alexander replied. He motioned for Rommel to take a seat as he poured another small glass. After offering it to Rommel, he continued. “I have word that King Emmanuel is planning on releasing all claims on Shqiperi (Albania) and Abyssinia (Ethiopia). No doubt that was to try and gain some favor with the rest of the Allies.”


“Not sure how helpful that it will be, but I suppose it won’t hurt,” Rommel concluded.


A chirp came from Alexander’s console. When he pressed the switch, a miniature holographic of Admiral Cunningham appeared. “Field Marshal Alexander,” he said, saluting.


Returning it, Alexander answered, “Admiral Cunningham, I was going to contact you later today, but now is a perfect time. I am here with General Rommel, and I have news from General Eisenhower.”


Cunningham turned and gave Rommel a respectful nod, which was returned. “What has our Yank friend brought to us today?”


Alexander inserted a datacard into the projector, sending the information to Cunningham. As it was transmitted, he gave another copy to Rommel for him to read. As the both of them read the information that had been given to them, he watched to see their reactions.


Rommel was the first to speak. “These are the details on the invasion of Floevis, specifically the Provence System. I assumed that would be our target, but if these timetables are correct, we’re to secure the system in four weeks. Will that be enough time?”


“We’ll be the third offensive into Floevis,” Alexander explained. “While Hitler’s forces are focused on the invasion in the Brittany System, and the following invasion at Calais, we’ll hit them from below. The Getov military will either try to hold onto everything they can, or pull back and attempt to regroup.”


“It can work, but what about the Getov forces that are still operating in the occupied regions of Noria?” Cunningham asked. “They have stopped any offensive operations, minus the occasional raid, but I doubt they will sit by and allow us to open another front so close to their operating area. Noria favors the defenders and they still have enough strike craft and raiders to cause problems if they decide to attack us on the flank.” He thought for a moment then continued. “I could leave some pickets behind, but that would reduce our ability to destroy Getov defenses in the systems we liberate.”


“I won’t deny that the Norians are motivated to prove they are not the lapdogs of the Nazi party,” Cunningham admitted, “but the problem is that they are lacking in modern equipment. Some of their vessels are impressive, but the need for replacement parts is the main obstacle. Too much of their manufacturing and infrastructure was damaged or destroyed.”


“I agree,” Rommel stated. “I’ve diverted what I could spare to the Norian military, and I have a brilliant supply officer who has done some incredible things, but he can’t work miracles.”


Alexander nodded in understanding before he replied. “The Prime Minister and General Eisenhower have come up with a potential solution for that as well.” He leaned forward slightly before he continued. “What I am about to say is to be between the three of us, understand?” When he didn’t received any protests, he said, “We all knows what happens when after the war for Europa: an Iron Curtain if we provide the Rarus Federation enough support to push into Getov-controlled territory. Both Prime Minister Churchill and General Eisenhower are going to talk with President Hull on reducing the aid we give them and providing more to potential allies.”


Both men were silent, both with looks of surprise and contemplation on their faces. After giving them some time to process this new information, he leaned back in his seat and returned to the original subject. “The Prime Minister and Imperial General Staff has already come up with a solution to Noria’s equipment problem,” the Field Marshal answered. “They’ve taken note of your reports on the training of the Royal Norian Military, and they have decided to loan them some of older vessels. Our own version of Lend-Lease, so to speak, and it’s expected that the Yanks will be doing the same thing. They won’t be good in any offensive action, but they should be adequate in stopping any ideas that Jerry may have.”


“Not to mention much needed training for their personnel on naval vessels,” Cunningham added. “How long is it expected to take for Norian manufacturing to be restarted?”


Alexander looked through his datapad for the appropriate information. After failing to find it on the current one, he reached over to a small pile of datacards to try and find the correct one with the information that he was looking for. Bloody things are almost as bad as the countless papers I used to have on my desk on Earth, he thought embarrassingly. After a few more minutes of searching, he managed to find the one he was looking for. Looking up at his guests, he could see sympathetic looks on their faces, knowing that they had experienced the same thing on more than one occasion. “Close to the end of the year is what the Norians and Allied engineers agree on,” Alexander said finally, after finding the information. “Even then, they will require a large financial package to help in rebuilding.”


“I’ve heard rumors that the Prime Minister is pushing for a restructuring of the Empire,” Cunningham added, “Including financial assistance to some of the countries that are war-torn as well.”


“Doubt it will be much, but it will give the impression that we didn’t help in the rebuilding of Europa. In the end, it will be the Americans who help rebuild most of Europa,” admitted Alexander. “We won’t come out with our Empire intact, but I’m sure that it will survive in a stronger position than it did back on Earth.”


Cunningham nodded in agreement, while Rommel asked a question. “Do we have a more detailed plan on what to do with Getov after the war?” This was a topic that he a justified interest in. He knew what happened to his homeland, and he didn’t want it to happen again, even if this was a slightly different one. It shared a similar culture and history to the one he remembered and he didn’t want it to become the battleground of the Allies and Rarus Federation.


Alexander looked over at Rommel. He understood why he wanted to know what was planned, and he also knew that Prime Minister Churchill and General Eisenhower were discussing possible solutions with President Hull. Details were to stay secret for the moment, but perhaps he could give Rommel something to ease his mind. “The Prime Minister and General Eisenhower are both discussing possible ideas on what to do, but until we know what the Conspirators can accomplish, there is little we can say.” He spread his hands and shrugged in sympathy, and he could tell that Rommel was not happy with this answer. In fact, he looked almost deflated, but he threw the German a bone. “I can tell you that you will become part of the rebuilding process, General. How much depends on what happens in the next few months and how the people perceive you.”


Rommel looked at his superior curiously. He wasn’t used to being left in the dark when it came to the future of his home, and it was irritating so say the least. Perhaps they were hoping to ease his mind by not adding to the burden he was now facing. One day at a time, he thought to himself. It will happen when it is ready.

Year 14, Month 04, Day 32

London, Albion System

The United Kingdom of Albion


Prime Minister Churchill sat in his office, smoking his cigar as he looked out the window and onto the grand city before him. Despite the ravages of the war, and the occasional raid that the Getov military send over the city, he could see the spirit of the people beginning to lift. There was still struggle and rationing, but he could sense the tenacity; the will to endure the harshest of circumstances and push on. It was something that he could take pride in, to be the leader of the Empire again, and if his policies could pass in Parliament, the Empire might endure, and be a true partner to the United Systems.

The move to increase the autonomy in Indou and the other regions of the Empire was a step in the right direction, and to improve the infrastructure and standard of living for the people in those systems would go a long way in showing that the Albion wasn't just an occupier, but someone who wanted to help bring people up. He was just hoping that it wasn't too late. The economic situation for the Empire was not at its best, and hadn't been since the end of the Great War, but he was hoping that the Americans and possibly the Republic would be able to offer some assistance. However, none of it would matter if the Allies failed to defeat Hitler and his fellow Nazis. Victory wasn't the problem. He and the others who had been "reborn" knew that the so called Reich would be unable to defeat the Allies in the long-run, but they could still cause problems for the war effort.

Knowing that Hitler had returned had thrown some of their plans out, but they had managed to modify a few of them to where the war should end in their favor, and hopefully not with the Communists at the Rhine. He, and the others, had to be careful though. They couldn't relay completely on their past knowledge to guide them in this conflict, especially with the Clone Wars raging around them. The war hadn't affected the Terran Sector much, thanks to it being more self-sufficient than other regions of the galaxy, but the ever present threat of the Separatists was a shadow over them.

Turning back to his desk, he looked over the datapad that he had been recently reading, and he wondered just how people would react to it. He knew that there was a space version of the Manhattan Project in this galaxy when he realized the situation that he had found himself in, and immediately began to try and research as much as he could on the matter. When he finally found it, he was shocked. The atomic bombs that had been dropped in Hiroshima and Nagasaki had been devastating. He would never have admitted it to anyone, but he would sometimes have nightmares of seeing a mushroom cloud over the cities of London, Birmingham, and others for years afterward. He never thought that something could surpass it in destruction and death.

It seemed that whatever being had sent himself and the others has not without a sense of humor.

Reading about the potential of what was being developed at Los Alamos was nightmarish to say the least. "God help us, and may our children forgive us," he had said after reading it for the first time. He had shared the information with Senator Roosevelt, and while he was sure that he was breaking some important security protocols, he trusted Roosevelt and he really couldn't give a damn about what the others thought about it.

Churchill knew that the Rarus Federation would eventually get it. No doubt because of their spy ring that was in place somewhere in America. He knew that there was one in Albion, and he was trying to see if MI5 could break it up. That was why he was pushing for both America and Albion to share the technology, so that there would be two powers that held the weapon instead of it being in the hands of the Americans, though there was a problem.

How would the rest of the galaxy react to it? On Earth, there were some protests, but overall, many saw it as necessary as a way to ensure an end of the war and a way to prevent the another global conflict from starting. How would the rest of the galaxy find out that the Terran Sector processed a weapon of mass destruction? Would they see it as a threat to the spatiality? A war-prone region with such a dangerous capability would not sit well with the Senate or the Chancellor, though it might be the one thing that saves them. He had been receiving reports from Senator Lord Halifax on Coruscant. At the moment, the war was not going well. Nothing but major defeats and embarrassments for the Republic since the new year had started, and so far it didn't look like it would change until probably next year. Many in the Senate were handing over more of their powers to the Chancellor who was using it to better maintain control on how the war was fought, and it was worrying to say the least. A recent motion was passed in the Senate that would place Clone Troopers on Coruscant as a police force, and that was something that could be abused far too easily for someone with dictatorial powers, like Palpatine. It was an all too familiar picture for him, with images of Hitler, Mussolini, Stalin, and a list of other tyrants coming to mind. The weapon they were developing could sere as a deterrent to not mess with the Terran Sector.

There was a victory in the Galactic Senate, however, with Roosevelt managing to convince the Senate to not purchase another shipment of Clones from the Kaminoans, but instead expand the Republic Judicial Forces. An actual military made up of beings from across the galaxy that were not occupied. It was a victory to say the least, and Roosevelt said that it would serve as a counterweight to the growing number of clones, unite the various beings in the galaxy, and not place such a strain on the Republic economy.

There had also been an encrypted portion to the message, and it was covering recent threats that had recently been placed on Roosevelt and his wife's lives. Several other Terran senators had received similar threats, and while none had been attacked, some were getting worried. This confirmed what he had heard from Lord Halifax, and he wondered just who was responsible. It could easily be special interest groups who were profiteering off the war, but something else was rankling the man's senses.

Roosevelt mentioned that there was something about Chancellor Palpatine that didn't sit right. Churchill had studied up on the man, and while he could see him as a good leader and trying to do his best in a time of war, he had never met the man in person, so he couldn't get an accurate profile on the man. He trusted Roosevelt's judgement though, and Lord Halifax was also confirming that something about the man seemed different, like there was more to him than what was shown.

What's your endgame? It had been a question he had thought on more than one occasion. All of this showed that he was ambitious and enjoyed being in power, but there was the Jedi to consider. They considered themselves loyal to the Republic and democracy, and would likely stand against any power plays that Chancellor Palpatine would make, so they would have to be either removed or coopted. This would be something that he would have to discuss with the others the next time they could get together. Right now, with the invasion of Floevis close at hand, everyone was so busy that there was little time to spare.

There was a buzz on his desk as he was broke out of his thoughts. Pressing the button, he answered, "Yes?"

"Prime Minister, Field Marshal Alan Brooke is here for your 2PM appointment," his secretary said.

Churchill took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Back to the war, he thought. "Please send him in."

Chapter Text

Year 14, Month 05, Day 03
Outside the Marianas System
Empire of Katania



Slowly and silently, the Imperial Katanian Carrier Taiho moved through the darkness of space. On the bridge, it was darker than normal as Admiral Ozawa stood with his hands clasped behind his back. He had ordered the entire fleet to operate on minimal power, to reduce the chance of detection by the Americans. He did not want to take any chances for this operation. There was too much at stake.

The war in the Pacifica Region of the Sector was no going according to what the General Staff had planned when the war had begun three years ago. Many of the gains that they had achieved since the beginning of the war were falling to the Americans after the defeat at Midway Outpost and the loss of the Solomon and New Guinea Systems. The next target was going to be the Marianas System, home to a gas giant that would place the Home Systems within striking distance if it fell, and that could not be allowed. However, there were other problems that the Empire was facing that were using up many of their dwindling resources.

General MacArthur’s forces were attempting to push through the Batavian Indies and were threating to cut off the source of so many of the raw materials that were needed to keep the Empire’s war machine going. At the same time, Admiral Spruance was pushing through Central Pacifica, taking small systems and bypassing others, leaving the Katanian forces there to whither on the vine. With the Americans advanced from those two directions, those that belonged to Albion and their empire were attempting to break into the former Indou-Kunia. So far, the opening of the Bamar Route had been their last offensive action and the front had stabilized. That had given time for the Army and their Confederate comrades the time needed to try and consolidate their position. Ozawa and the others on the General Staff were hoping that it would be enough to keep them from advancing any further, and with enough time, attempt to close the Route.

The Bamar Route was an important hyperspace lane that helped provided a steady stream of supplies to the Kunian military. It had been used by those of Albion, the Americans, and other Europa powers to send much needed supplies to the corrupt Kunian government. When it had been closed, early in the war, it had been hoped that the loss of their supply chain would allow for the Kantaian Empire to cause Kunia to wither and die, but instead, the Allies attempted to set up another route through the difficult to navigate Tibet Region. While it was not as safe or secure as the Bamar Route, it did allow for Kunia to stay in the war longer, and now they were reorganizing themselves. The death of General Chiang had been celebrated originally, with the hope that his government would collapse into anarchy. While there had been several reports of infighting, it appeared that his wife had been able to rally the strongest factions to her side.

“Too much at once,” was what Yamamoto had summarized it as during one of their meetings. It had been a harsh statement, with many not wanting to admit it being the truth, but everyone in the room seemed to think that. Taking on too many nations at one time would be the death of the Empire if they were unsuccessful. If they lost in the Marianas System, then the Empire was truly doomed in the matter. Perhaps if this battle were won, it would allow for them to get another year of time to rebuild and perhaps gain more assistance from the Confederacy.

The Battle for the Marianas would be a difficult fight, but many were hopeful that things would go their way. Many of the losses experienced at the battle of Midway had been replenished. Carriers had been built and pilots trained, but training would only go so far. Many of the pilots and naval personnel had very little to no combat experience against American fighters and bombers, and that would be the death of many. Many of the instructors had been sent off to the various fronts, and now there were none left to teach the next class of pilots. What they had were a bunch of green boys who had more spirit than experience.

How many will not be coming back? “Too many,” he said quietly.

Turning toward the communications officer, he asked, “Has our raider in the system detected anything yet?”


Pressing several keys, the officer shook his head and answered, “No new activity, Admiral. However, the captain of the I-56 reports that the sensor pod is acting up again. He says that his technicians are working on fixing the problem.”

Ozawa nodded and looked back out into space. That’s another problem we are having, he thought. The Americans were too good at using their raiders as a means of destroying their shipping. He wondered just how much had been destroyed by the Americans, and how quickly they were being replaced. He had a feeling that it wasn’t fast enough, and he wondered if perhaps even if they held onto the Batavian Indies, they would still starve.

I have to bring that up next time with the General Staff, he though. Even if it was already thought of, it was best to be redundant than leave a potential problem.

Several more hours passed, with no new activity within the system. They had already been like this for over a week, and many in the fleet were becoming anxious with anticipation. The wait before the battle could be considered worse than the actual fighting. During the lull, Admiral Ozawa would walk back to his quarters and doze for a couple of hours to try and keep himself calm. He had done this many times over the past several days, and had grown accustomed to the routine. He had been in his cabin, lightly sleeping when the comm on his desk beeped. After getting up out of bed and answering, he heard the voice of Captain Matsubara Hiroshi, the carrier’s commanding officer. “What is it, Captain?”

“Message from the I-56, Admiral,” he answered. “He reports that the American fleet has arrived within the system.

That statement sparked the admiral into action. “Have the fleet brought up to General Quarters,” he ordered. “We have everything follow the plan.”

“Yes, Admiral,” the captain answered, and the comm switched off.

Outside his quarters, klaxons could be heard and the interior of the ship changed from white to red as the ships prepared itself for combat. All we need to do if follow the plan, Ozawa thought to himself as he fastened the final button on his uniform. I just hope that the Americans will follow the path we expect them to. He had originally doubted the idea that the Americans were breaking their encryption codes, and the latest series of defeats had caused the Admiralty to listen, but Ozawa wondered if it was in time to make a difference. He said a silent prayer to the spirits and opened the door, calmly making his way to the bridge, and another battle with the United Systems Navy.

Year 14, Month 05, Day 03
IJN Shigure, Outside the Marianas System
Empire of Katania



“Sound General Quarters,” Commander Hara ordered as he received the message from Admiral Ozawa’s flagship. “Bring sensors sweeps up on passive and keep active sensors on stand-by. Damage control teams are to be on stand-by as well.”


As his orders were relayed, Hara could feel the anticipation building within him. This fight would make or break the Katanian Empire. He had fought to the best of his ability in the retreat from the Solomons, into the New Guinea System, and finally in Batavian Indies. Despite what the Katanian propaganda machine put out, he knew that they were retreats, and that the days of the Empire of the Sun were numbered.


He was still hopefully in a small extent. Admiral Yamamoto was still alive, and while he wasn’t in command of the Combined Fleet anymore, he was still a very capable commander. He, and several other officers of the General Staff, had come up with a plan to ambush the American fleet when they began their invasion of the Marianas System, by allowing them to set up a small foothold on the planet, with the defenders not responding with their anti-orbital weaponry. The plan was to have the Imperial Army fire everything they had at the American fleet while they were in orbit, and at the same time, the Katanian fleet would enter the system and hit them from the other side, catching the American fleet in the middle.


However, the main problem for the Katanian fleet was the same as it had been on Earth: a lacking of experienced pilots and personnel, and improved technology, something that the Americans used to great effect. That was had caused the first Battle of the Marianas to fail, and it being called the Great Mariana’s Turkey Shoot by the Americans. This time, it was the same, but Commander Hara was going to be sure that the Americans raiders didn’t get a jump on them. He knew all too well how effective their submarine tactics were on Earth, and they were employed just as effectively in the sector. He had heard rumors that the Army was demanding that the Navy make a greater effort in resupplying their garrisons, claiming that they were needed to hold the various systems.


Commander Hara hid a grimace. He remembered when he dealt with an Army General a few months back, and the experience left a bad taste in his mouth. The man had been insolent, arrogant, and believed that he knew matters on planetary defense better than a man who was in space facing the fleet. “I hate the politics of command,” he had said to his executive officer after the planet had fallen.


When Hara had informed the Army commander that he was withdrawing from the system, the General had threatened to report to Katanian High Command that he was abandoning the system. Hara had brushed it off as an empty threat, and after weeks of nothing happening, he knew that he had been right.


This battle for the Marianas was hopefully going to be different. He had placed the ships in his squadron, and worked with the other squadron commanders, in setting up a perimeter around the fleet in an attempt to get some early warning of an American attack. He didn’t want American raiders finding the fleet and stopping the battle before it could even begin.


“Captain, I’m picking something up on the passive sensors,” the operator reported. “It’s faint, but it could just be a ghost signal.”


Commander Hara tensed a little. If it were raiders, then they were doomed before the attack could even begin. “What’s its location?”


“Computer is working on that.” He was quiet for a few seconds before answering, “Contact bearing two-seven-zero. Range: one thousand kilometers and closing.”


“Send a message to Admiral Ozawa,” Hara commanded. “Inform him that we have a potential contact. We will be moving to investigate.”


Twenty seconds passed before the comm officer responded,” From Admiral Ozawa: Proceed with caution.”


Nodding, Commander Hara turned to the navigations officer. “Bring us about, on course two-eight-zero at one quarter engine power. We don’t want to spook whatever this thing is until we know for sure. Also, have weapons systems ready to fire on my order.”


As his ordered were followed, he could feel his ship begin to vibrate as it began to accelerate. He was anxious as to what this “ghost” was, and became more alarmed when the sensor operator reported, “Correction: Single contact is now multiple contacts, numbering ten. Sensors are getting a better picture of the objects. Size varies between thirty-five to forty meters in length.”


Multiple objects of varying sizes… This didn’t appear to be a manmade vessel. His anxiousness was now mixed with a little curiosity. “Distance to contacts?”


“Seven hundred kilometers.”


“Initiate an active scan, and bring weapon systems on their bearing.”


As the seconds passed, the sensor operator responded, “Scans are showing that they are organic.”


Everyone on the bridge stopped what they were doing when the word “organic” was heard, but only for a seconds before they went back to their duties. Organic? “Helm, bring us closer to the formation. I want a visual to make sure that nothing is using this group of animals as cover.”


As the Shigure came closer Hara got a better look at the creatures. They were a dark grey color, and had a body that looked similar to the whales that he had seen a few times back on Earth. As the creatures began to pass, the entire bridge was silent. The heads of the creatures were bulbous and looked eerily similar to sperm whales, but where the tail fin would be was instead four tentacles. “What are those things?”


“Purrgil, sir,” one of the bridge personnel answered, in awe. “I had heard stories of this creatures. Many see them as a nuisance, getting into the way of hyperspace traffic, but my grandfather told me stories on how they were responsible for inspiring us to travel between stars.”


“One of the creatures is moving away from the group and toward us,” the sensor operator announced.


“Should we open fire?” the weapons officer asked.


“No, wait,” Hara commanded.


One of the smaller purrgils drifted toward them, its tentacles slowly fluttering as it came closer to the destroyer. As it came across the bow, Hara could see its cloudy grey eye blink a few times as it looked through the bridge view screen, as if it were curious to what was inside. Everyone was in awe, seeing a creature that was rare in the galaxy, and Hara was tempted to place a hand on the transparisteel. However, he resisted the urge to maintain his professional appearance. After a couple of minutes of the juvenile purrgil circling the destroyer, he turned to rejoin its swarm.


“Contact Admiral Ozawa,” Hara commanded. “Inform him that a swarm of purrgil are in the area. We’ll attempt to keep them from approaching the fleet. Helm, put us on the group’s starboard side. Let’s see if we can guide them past the fleet.”


The Shigure relayed the information to Ozawa, and soon rest of the fleet was talking about it. A couple of fighters that had been part of the CAP joined them as well. The pilots claimed it was to ensure that the purrgil didn’t approach the fleet, by Hara wondered if it was really more to do with seeing such rare creatures. After an hour of escorting the creatures past the fleet, the fighters broke off, with the Shigure about to do the same when he saw the tentacles of the creatures begin to flash with a blue light.


“Scan the purrgil,” Hara ordered. “I want to know what those creatures are doing.”


“Initiating scan,” the operator reported, and after a few seconds he responded. “Sir, I’m getting some strange energy readings.


“What kind?”


“They look like…” there was a pause before he continued. “It looks like they are preparing for a hyperspace jump. I’m getting very similar readings from them.”


“What? How can a creature do a hyperspace jump?” Hara looked out to see the tentacles of the purrgil fan out, strobing even faster. They were like this for only a few seconds before the tentacles closed and the creatures disappeared one after another.


“The stories are true…” someone said with reverence.


A creature with the ability to travel into hyperspace. That was something that Commander Hara had never expected to see, though perhaps with a galaxy teaming with all sorts of life, it might have been wrong to make such assumptions. Such and incredible creatures, he thought after the final one vanished. I wonder where they go.


“Sir, I have a message from Admiral Ozawa,” the comm officer reported. “He says to get back into formation and prepare for combat. We’ll be entering the Marianas System in an hour.”


Silently taking a deep breath, Hara pushes the memory of the purrgil aside. It was time to focus on the coming battle, and he couldn’t afford to be distracted by anything. “Bring us back in formation then,” he said finally. “Have final preparations made and have damage control teams on stand-by.”


As the Shigure made its way back into formation, he contemplated Katania’s situation. It had been something that he had been going through since arriving in this galaxy after dying in Earth, and he struggled with since he knew that they would lose if they weren’t extremely lucky. Even if they were lucky, there was still the Manhattan Project that the Americans were no doubt working on. He had seen the damage to Hiroshima and Nagasaki and he had prayed that such weapons would never be used again. He had been fortunate enough to know that they never had been during the rest of his life. He did wonder what it could be in this galaxy, and the possibilities gave him nightmares.


Sighing, Hara accepted his situation. For better or worse, Katania was his home. It might have its flaws and have made more than its fair share of mistakes, but in the end, there was no where he could really go. He knew that he could survive this war if he followed his own doctrine of, ‘Never ever do the same thing twice’ and ‘If he hits you high, then hit him low; if he hits you low, then hit him high’. He would try to teach this to his subordinates and whoever would listen, and hopefully, the losses of the Imperial Navy could be fewer this time than the last. He could only hope.