CHAPTER ONE
Sakul Rolav hated the snow. He always used to dread when his family took him to planets like Toola for vacation. The wet snow always ruined his stylish leather boots and perfect nerf wool-sewn pants. Of course, ever since he started fighting for the Galactic Alliance, he had lost his snobbish attitude.
But he still hated the snow. Especially when it was blowing into his face.
"Any idea when this blizzard will let up?" he asked his lieutenant Eshka Dan'yar.
"Doesn't appear to be anytime soon," the Bothan said from her monitor. She, along with everyone else of the 774th Battalion- which was comprised of nearly six hundred troopers- were crowded together at an Alliance outpost station, located not far from the Rhen Var Harbor.
When they had arrived on the icy planet, they were poised to strike right into the harbor and unleash all of their forces on the Glorians stationed there. That is, until a blizzard got in their way, making it too dangerous to head out.
The fact that the small ruined building, which served as their headquarters, lacked a door didn't help matters either.
"The Paws are getting snow stuck between their gears," said Ulen Valsar, a burly Weequay who served as one of the battalion's weapons experts. He pointed a thumb in the direction of the AT-APs stationed outside. "I doubt they'll be able to move once the storm lets up-"
"Well, make sure they do," Sakul snapped, cutting off his most trusted friend mid-sentence. "When the Glorians come around, I want everything and everyone to be ready!"
"Will they come around?" asked a balding Ralltiiri man. "I don't think they even know we're here."
"They do." All eyes turned to Eshka, who was staring at her monitor screen, mouth agape. "An army of nearly a thousand Glorians are approaching."
The Ralltiiri man blanched. "Me and my big, fat mouth..."
"Better hope it doesn't get blasted off," Sakul said bitterly as he readied his blaster rifle and donned his helmet. "What say we go greet them?"
"What say we jump into a lava pit on Mustafar?" a young Corellian man muttered in response. "I'm sure that's a quicker and less painful way to die."
"Stow it, Marko, and go climb onto an AT-AP," Valsar said. "They might not be able to move, but they sure as heck can still pack a punch!"
As all of the men and women hurried to carry out their duties, Sakul peered through the doorway of their command post to see the silhouettes of the approaching Glorians through the veil of snow. They were moving slowly, perhaps even marching like ordinary military men.
He was tempted- partially- to order every one to fire and pound the enemy. But the honorable side of him rejected that idea.
When the Glorians eventually came within twenty feet of the command post, Sakul stepped out of the portal, keeping his rifle slung over his shoulder and blaster pistols in their holsters. Much to his surprise, upon seeing him, the marching Glorian army came to an abrupt halt.
For a while, the only sound he heard was the loud wind that carried the snow storm. Then, one of the Glorians spoke, their masculine voice as cold and stoic as the ice they stood on.
"I admire your bravery, major," said the Glorian, standing in the lead of the thousand-men army. "To fight for a planet even when you're vastly outnumbered...that's truly a courageous move to make."
"I'm flattered," Sakul muttered, his helmet's vocalizer making his voice sound more deeper and gruff than it usually was. "Now give me one good reason why I shouldn't blast your head off."
The Glorian laughed out of mocked amusement. "Ready to get down to business, eh? Before we do, shall I offer you a chance to surrender?"
The sound of two blaster pistols clicking was the reply.
The Glorian tilted his head. "Just the response I was expecting."
He raised a gloved hand. The thousand Glorians raised the powerful plasma weapons they had become widely known for. The commander then began counting down on his hand.
Five... four...
Sakul remained fixed on the ground. He braced himself, knowing and hoping that an AT-AP would fire at any moment.
Three...two...
His hand itched for his blaster. Some time today would be nice, Ulen, he thought.
One...
You always were the one to savor the suspense...
Zero.
The Glorian's fingers culminated into a fist. 'The Death Fist', people had begun to call it after hearing the story from those who had witnessed a similar event on Belsavis. Those who survived to tell the tale were saved by a miracle: the Glorians' desire to have people spread word of the fear they had created. Sakul doubted that he would be given such a miracle.
Then a giant dragon fell out of the sky and crushed the Glorians. That had to account for something.
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