[Originally posted by Mycher] Hi guys, just got the urge to write again and a bit inspired by walking through IACC the other day. So please read and let me know what you think. It is just for fun but I hope you enjoy it. The Imperial Army Command Center had been the home of the 47th Imperial Expeditionary Force. It had been Mycher Keeas’ home for six years, a place of refuge and camaraderie, a stable oasis in a war torn galaxy. Standing atop what was left of the headquarters building, Mycher scanned around a full 360 degrees and all he saw was devastation and ruin. It looked as if the base had taken multiple hits from some orbiting capital ship. In his minds eye he could see turbolaser fire raining down like some kind of hellish storm, blasting all around to bits. The cantina was gone, a blasted wreck and what was left of the shuttle port reached for the sky like ribs of a long dead kryat dragon. He looked across the ruins and every where his eyes stopped a name came to him. Xia, Hammur, Acario, Scay…too many names, too many faces. He began to make his way down the ruble pile, down to where his speeder bike was waiting. He had no way of knowing who was entombed beneath his feet, the ferocrete fused into a lumpin mass by the heat of the attack. What ever clues as to the fate or whereabouts of the 47th were buried under tons of debris and beyond his ability to recover. Mycher was not going to give up though, not by a long shot. He may have been on the other side of the galaxy when every thing went to pieces but he knew that some where out in the mess that was once the Galactic Empire his friends and comrades had survived and he was going to find them. He gunned the bike and headed to the south, to his house. ****** He was surprised to find it mostly intact, by mostly meaning it had three out of four walls and the roof was still there. He entered through a hole that had once been a door and into the main room. Morning light trickled through the roof, the dust he kicked up highlighted by the piercing rays. Mycher kicked through some of rubble but it was clear any thing of value was long gone, scavengers having looted shortly after the battle. He looked to the west, through what was once a wall and saw the long row of buildings that had been the homes of the company. Row after row of shattered hulks were a mute testimony to the men and women who once dwelled here, silent remnants of another time. He had met every one who was a member at least once he thought, many he knew well and some were friends. They were gone now, either dead, dying some where else or hiding, gone to ground. Mycher picked up a shattered piece of sculpture and flipped it over in his hands. He tried to remember what it was, what it might have been and why it mattered but nothing came to mind. Like the ruins around him it was nothing now, a shapeless hunk of refuse cast down by an unkind fate. He hurled it with all the might he could muster and the ruined sculpture broke into even more unrecognizable pieces. The rage was with him now, in full bloom in his chest, consuming him. He had gone through this exercise a hundred times now, all fruitless anger and despair and as always, he was right back to here he was before. The moment passed but still the anger was there, simmering in the back of his mind. Mycher did not like it, he hated to lose control but the anger gave him focus, made him stronger and reinforced his will. He should have been here, he could have helped but even as the thoughts formed he knew it was a lie. One man, what could one man have done to turn the tide that day? He was on a mission, he was doing his duty just like every one here did that day but his took him away, to the other side of the galaxy. In the chaos that followed after the murder of the Emperor and the death of Lord Vader, it took all his skill and ability to worm his way back to Naboo. The war turned against the Empire so quickly, Admirals and Generals fighting for their own little fiefdoms, Moff betraying Moff for their own shortsighted gains. World after world which had served the Empire turned against it. He knew that is what had happened to the 47th, to his friends. The RSF had some how been involved, perhaps they were working the Rebellion all along but whatever the intent, the battle at IACC had been sudden and overwhelming. He still knew people and for some unknown reason the Rebellion came down on his comrades with every thing they could muster. It was disproportionate and it raised questions that needed to be answered. Mycher would find out what happened, he would find his… family. And those that betrayed them, he would find them too and those people would pay, one way or another.