DARK FORCES

　結果的にモーガン・カターン(Morgan Katarn)の命を救うことになるその壊れた中継器は、彼の農場の４分の１を占める南東部分への給水施設に欠くことのできない部品であった。中継器と給水器がなければ、ヴァリフォーム豆は枯れてしまう。それは農作物の残りものみたいだが、モーガンの樹齢１０００年になるタップ樹の根から供給される水が必要だった。"タップ"は、地下数千メートルの堆積層から地下水を吸い上げ、無限の長さを持つ潅漑管としてモーガンの農作物と共生していた。
　仕事場は広く、モーガンは家にいる間はほとんどそこにいた。とは言っても、彼が望むほど長くいられるわけではなかった。アグロ・メカニック職人でもある彼は、良き農場主でありながら抵抗運動家としてのもう一つの顔を持っていた。仕事場の食器棚にはスペア部品、カウンターの上には出力紙、図表、設計図でいっぱいの箱と工具が散らかっていた。モーガンは６個あるモニターのひとつを見るために作業机を一回りした。そこには給水器内部の動きが回転する立体像として映し出されていた。不具合を起こした中継器を示す箇所が緑から赤に変わり、点滅していた。困ったもんだが、すぐ直せる。
　モーガンはその箇所の番号を書き留めると、倉庫の棚を開け、適応する箱を取り出し、それを取り換えた。首筋にそよ風が当たり、ウィー・ジー(Wee Gee)の冷却ファンの音が聞こえた。彼は振り向いてニヤッと笑った。「おい、オールド・ボーイ．．．ソーラー・パネルの調子は?全て順調か?よしよし」
　そのドロイドはモーガン自身が設計した。彼のロボット研究は独学だったので、容易なことではなかった。機能を優先した形にしたので、ウィー・ジーは人型ではなかった。数百以上のどんな形になることも可能であったが、ウィー・ジーはいつも逆Ｕ字型に戻っていた。右のアームは左のアームの３倍強力で、４つ以上の接合部とＣ型の握り手が自慢だった。左のアームはそれほど丈夫ではなかったが人型の手を持ち、ウィージーの外殻にとりつけられた万能ベルトの工具を易々と使いこなせた。
　ドロイドの両側には駆動装置とモーガンが名付けたものが付き、ウィージーにとりつけられた電子アイと同等のセンサー・ポッドを垂直に保つ働きをしていた。帝国軍のスピーダー・バイクからはずしたリパルサーリフト・エンジンとプローブ・ドロイドの屑から取ってきた操舵ジェットのおかげで、ドロイドは地上２メートルまで浮くことができた。楕円形のレンズをモーガンの方へ向けると、ドロイドはチッチッと音をたてた。人間は頷いた。
　「そうだ、今朝はそれをしなくちゃならん。一番最初にやることは．．．第四給水器の交換だ。わしが戻ってくるまで代わってくれ。」
　ウィージーは快く鳴くと、建物についたたくさんのデータ・ポートのひとつに接続した。一度接続してしまえば、ドロイドはその場にいながら農場の全てを監視することができる。
　農夫は乗り物で行こうとしたが、考え直してやめることにした。歩いた方が気持ちが良いし、ダイエットにもなる。モーガンはコムリンクの充電を確認すると、隅からステッキをとり、ドアを開けて出ていった。
　彼は夕方のぱりっとした空気を吸い込むと、サラスト(Sullust)が昇るのを見つめた。あそこにはモーガンの友人がいる、その多くは同盟軍に属し、新秩序(New Order)を潰す日を目指して働いていた。それは、皇帝が大企業ソロスーブ社を通して支配する惑星でできるような小さな仕事ではなかった。だが、その意志が続く限り、いつの日か成功するとモーガンは確信していた。
　エアロビクスをした時の心拍数になるようにと、農夫は南東に向かってキビキビと歩いていった。枯れ草が足元で音をたて、ラム虫が顔の前を舞い、空には星が瞬いていた。それはモーガンに、もうすぐ卒業する息子のカイル(Kyle)のことを思い出させた。
　自由な選択というよりも主に金銭的な理由から、カイルが帝国軍事アカデミーへの進学を決意したことに、モーガンはずっと悔いていた。アウター・リム出身のカターン家には財産が乏しく、カイルが良い教育を受けるためにはアカデミーに行くしかなかったのだ。
　モーガンは眉をひそめた。もし彼自身がもっと融通がきいて、もう少し金を稼ぐことができたならば、他にも道があったはずだ。カイルは戻ってきてくれるだろうか?さよならを言われるのだろうか?宇宙港をふんぞり返って歩くストームトルーパーになってしまうのか?星は沈黙し、ラム虫が踊っているだけ、確かめる術はなかった。

Sullust
Sulon

Dark Forces
Soldier for the Empire
P.9-12

　＜ヴェンジェンス(Vengeance)＞が帝国の大型スター・デストロイヤーではないのは、手近な問題解決のために必要ではないからだ。結局のところ、短剣で足りるときに刀は要らぬであろう?そう思うと気が晴れた。艦橋は広かった。乗組員は磨き上げられたデッキに刻まれた半円形の溝に立っていた。ジェレク(Jerec)の名で知られるダーク・ジェダイは彼方に浮かぶ衛星を凝視していた。
　What he saw was a great deal more complex than what those around him perceived. Jerec was tall and thin to the point of emaciation. He kept his head shaved and black facial tattoos glowed on his brown skin. Empty eye sockets were hidden behind a band of black leather. His tunic,trousers, and boots were black. Jerec wore no insignia other than the symbols visible on his blood-red collar - and kept his Jedi abilities secret.
　Such was the nature of the man, however, and the power he commanded, that no signs of authority were necessary. Jerec acted under orders from Emperor Palpatine himself and looked forward to the day when all would kneel before him,though he was careful to hide such ambitions behind a veneer of loyalty.
　Captain Thrawn stood behind Jerec, slightly to his right. He was as tall as Jerec but the similarity ended there. Thrawn had shimmering blue-black hair, pale blue skin, and glowing red eyes, all of which testified to his alien origins and were rare in the Empire's xenophobic navy. However, much as Palpatine might distrust other sentient species, he loved a winner, and Thrawn had collected more victories, medals, and promotions than most officers with twice his years of service. He stood with hands clasped behind his back and waited for his superior to speak. When the words came, Jerec's voice was soft, almost feminine. "The probe returned?"
　"Yes, sir. There was no sign of a security breach. Surprise will be complete."
　"The drop ship is ready?"
　"Yes, sir. Loaded and ready."
　"Excellent. You may begin."
　"Yes, sir."
　Thrawn had turned, and was about to leave, when Jerec spoke again. "One more thing..."
　The officer turned at the sound of Jerec's voice. "sir?"
　"I want Morgan Katarn alive."
　Thrawn was well aware of what Jerec wanted but nodded dutifully and said, "Yes,sir," with exactly the same intonation he had used the first time the order had been issued. Besides being a brilliant tactician, and even better strategist, Thrawn had still another virtue, and that was his absoiute lack of ego. Something of a necessity for an officer with alien origins in a military organization rife with patronage and politics.
　Jerec, who wanted a great deal more than the next pathetic rank in another being's power structure, nodded and stalked away.
　Thus dismissed,Thrawn tackled the business at hand. Orders had been given and he would carry them out.

ヴェンジェンス
Vengeance

Dark Forces
Soldier for the Empire
P.12-14

　Though roughly the same size as an Imperial assault shuttle, the Corellian-built stock light freighter had less armament and still bore the scars accumulated while running supplies to Space-Station Kwenn. Captured with a hold full of black-market technics, she'd been added to the rag-tag collection of ships the Empire used for clandestine missions. She was typical of vessels pressed into service by the Alliance. Painted with registration numbers identical to those worn by one of their commerce raiders, she made a believable standin for the real thing. Retros fired as she matched velocities with Sulon and prepared to land.
　Within her hull, in a cargo compartment that still stank of the hydroponic supplies she had carried, a team of Spacial Operations commandos prepared for combat. Their leader, a thirty-something first lieutenant named Brazack, watched with all-seeing eyes. He had earned his commission the hard way - in a battle so bloody, every single one of his superiors had been killed. His subsequent promotion came in the wake of a mission that produced no less than four medals of valor - all awarded posthumously.
　His peers, almost all of whom had graduated from the Academy, resented Brazack and his almost mystical linkage with the troops assigned to him. In this case, his troops were the second platoon, B company, of the legendary Special Ops Group, also known as the Ghost Battalion.
　In spite of their common membership in one of the Empire's most elite military organizations, every single member of the platoon was dressed in a rag-tag collection of mismatched clothes and armor meant to resemble what volunteer elements of the Alliance wore.
　And the disguises would have been believable if it weren't for the standard-issue weapons they carried - and the fact that they were exclusively human, a rare circumstance where rebunits were concerned.
　Brazack had objected to these disecrepancies and　argued for a delay while they were remedied, but was overruled. He reacted the way he always did, with a shrug and a lopsided grin. And why not? It made no difference to Brazack if someone saw through the fiction, especially in light of the fact that he had lodged his protest in writing and retained a computer-generated receipt. Such precautions were second nature to someone who'd risen from the ranks.
　The pilot announced, "Three to dirt," and Brazack walked slowly down the center corridor. He made eve contact with each mernber of the team as he spoke. "All right, men, you know the drill. We land, secure the Landing Zone, and collect the prisoner. Questions? No? Good! Nail this sucker and the drinks are on me."
　The men grinned. They knew most officers would hardly acknowledge their status as human beings - much less buy them drinks. Which had everything to do with the fact that they would rather die than disappoint their leader.
　The freighter came in out of the sun, sank to rooftop level, and opened up on the farm south of Morgan Kafarn's. It belonged, they had been told, to a family named Danga. Lasers burped,buildings burst into flames, and variform cattle broke free of their holding pens. The Imperial pilot, a Caridian named Vester, grinned and circled for another pass. Give the groundies plenty of time for an ID, that's what the briefing said, and that's what he'd do.
　A woman and two children broke from the cover provided by the fiercely burning farmhouse and ran for a nearby gully. Vester kicked the ship to the left, centered their images in the heads-up sight, and pressed a button. There was a satisfying flash as the colonists died.
　"Missile..." his co-pilot said matter-of-factly, well aware of the fact that the freighter was way too low for the shoulder-launched device to arm itself, and fired a waist turret in reply. Bolts of energy hit the center of the vehicle park, marched towards the maintenance shed, and found Don Danga trying to reload. The shoulder-launched missile exploded and he disappeared.
　The freighter shuddered, steadied, and headed north. By attacking the Danga farm prior to hitting the Katarn place, and greasing still another family on the way out,they hoped to create the impression of a hit-and-run Rebel raid. Vester didn't much care so long as he did all of the shooting and someone else did all of the dying. He chinned the intercom button. "Okay. Lieutenant... thirty to dirt."
　Brazack acknowledged the message, took one last look at his men, and stood on the belly ramp. He took pride in leading from the front - and planned to be the first one out.
　Vester watched the Katarn farm grow larger, swerved to avoid an enormous tree, and lit his repulsors. The ship staggered, caught itself, and pancaked in. Not very pretty - but ideal when seconds count.
　Brazack felt the skids hit, slapped the button next to the hatch, and dived through the opening. He executed a shoulder roll, allowed forward momentum to bring him up,and opened fire. That would keep down the heads of anyone waiting in the farmhouse. Windows shattered and curtains started to smolder. No one fired in return. The platoon poured out of the ship, formed a skirmish line, and waited for orders.
　Vester waited till the commandos were clear, lit his repulsors, and departed northward. His job was to inflict additional damage, provide fire support if called upon to do so,and make the final pickup. A quick check confirmed that a flight of five TIE fighters had secured his escape route. The mission was on the rails and Vester was happy.

Sullust
Sulon

Dark Forces
Soldier for the Empire
P.14-16

　The Katarn house was a modest structure, only half of which appeared aboveground. The rest, for reasons of cost and insulation, was surrounded by carefully packed earth.
　Brazack waited for Corporal Koyo to kick the door in, waited for defensive fire that never came, and entered with his weapon at ready. The living room had a dusty, unlived-in feel, as if it was more for show than use, and contained little of value or interest. Brazack pointed toward a pair of doors. "Koyo... Santo... see where those go. And keep your eyes peeled for Katarn."
　The men had memorized Morgan's face during the simulation briefing. They managed to withhold the "Yes,sirs" that came naturally to their lips and said "Gotcha," instead.
　Rank hath privilege and Brazack had assigned the most interesting avenue of investigation to himself. It led through an archway and into a workshop. He had no more than passed through the entryway when something struck him in the chest and threw him backward. The armor beneath his shirt prevented serious injury but it hurt nonetheless. The missile consisted of a partially disassembled servo mechanism, and in spite of the fact that Wee Gee had thrown the device with unerring accuracy, the threat index was extremely low. However, the commandos reacted as they would to any threat, and used overwhelming force.
　The antipersonnel grenade hit the floor, launched itself into the air, and exploded. The droid squeaked pitifully. Santo put a beam through the machine's speaker grill. Wee Gee considered further resistance, decided against it, and sent an electronic warning to Morgan Katarn.

Sullust
Sulon

Dark Forces
Soldier for the Empire
P.18

　High on the hill behind the farm Morgan both heard and felt his beeper go off, knew the raiders had found Wee Gee, and touched the button that would silence it. A lump formed in his throat. Yes, Wee Gee was a machine, but he'd been a friend as well.
　Helpless to do anything more than document what transpired, the farmer saw fires appear among his outbuildings, and saw the ship return from the north and squat in front of his house. There was something about the raiders that bothered Morgan. It eluded him at first, but then he had it. The so-called Rebels carried identical weapons! Not to mention that every single one of them was human. They looked like Rebels, but they weren't Rebels so what did thatleave? The simple answer, the obvious answer, was Imperial troops. Sent to kill and/or capture Reb leaders. That would explain the attack.
　Morgan dropped to the ground as the ship fired repulsors and rose into the air. Fires, the last ones no larger than sparks, marked the ship's passage to the west. Morgan shook his head sadly. If the Imperials thought such raids would suppress the Rebellion, they were wrong. Many would suffer this night - and their hatred would grow. The challenge was to focus their emotion, to transmute negative energy into positive.
　Morgan watched the fires in and around his house disappear. Activated by the household computer, and fed by the tap tree, his sprinkler system had cut in. He frowned and bit his lip. Possessions could be replaced, but what of Wee Gee? And more importantly,the map which Rahn had entrusted to him. Was it intact? Did the Imperials understand how valuable it was? Morgan ached to return, to check on his home, but knew a trap could be waiting.
　Morgan turned, low-crawled off the skyline, and trudged toward the east. Opportunity dwells within disaster. That's what his friend Rahn liked to say - and he hoped it was true.

Sullust
Sulon

Dark Forces
Soldier for the Empire
P.18-19

　Thrawn received the unemviable task of telling Jerec that while the raid had been successful, the commandos had been unable to find and capture Morgan Katarn. Never one to delay an unpleasant task Thrawn marched down a gleaming corridor, nodded to the stormtroopers who stood guard outside Jerec's suite, and requested entrance. It came without delay. Having no eyes and no sight, not in the ordinary sense, anyway, Jerec sat in almost total darkness. Only the soft glow provided by the bridge repeaters and light switches lit the room. The lack of illumination was intended to be intimidating,and would have been for anyone but Thrawn, who came from a species that boasted exceedingly good night vision. He waited for Jerec to speak.
　"You bring bad news."
　Thrawn took note of the fact that the comment came in the form of a statement rather than a question. How did Jerec know? There was no way to tell. "Yes, sir."
　"You may continue."
　The naval officer delivered his report the same way he delivered all reports - without excuse or elaboration. Once Thrawn was finished, thirty seconds elapsed before Jerec spoke. "Was Katarn warned?"
　"There's no evidence to support that theory, sir. Lieutenant Brazack believes the subject left the farm on some sort of errand."
　"Or felt a need to go elsewhere" Jerec mused out loud "He feels the Force, and even uses it on occasion, but is afraid to reach out and seize his inheritance. 'What if I make a mistake?' he wonders. 'What if I abuse the power?' 'Can I be trusted?' Such silliness is beyond all reckoning! I can feel his presence from orbit. Working, fussing,scbeming. All for naught"
　Thrawn allowed one eyebrow to rise. In spite of the fact that Jerec went to considerable lengths to hide certain abilities from those above him, ehosen subordinates were allowed the occasional glimpse. "Sir... yes,sir."
　"Of course this holds no interest for you," Jerec sneered. "For you're a being of the physical world, a doer of deeds, a manipulator of objects. Well, O doer of deeds, I will provide you and Lieutenant Brazack an opportunity to redeem yourselves and collect yet another of the commendations you thrive on. Listen carefully, for there is much to do."

ヴェンジェンス
Vengeance

Dark Forces
Soldier for the Empire
P.19-20

　The room was circular and packed with people. With the exception of an Alliance news team, dispatched to record the proceedings as part of the communications effert required to unite hundreds of sentient species under a single command,the colonists came from all over the district. They were hard men and women,lean of body, used to adversity. Each had been elected to represent at least ten others. They paid strict attention to what was said.
　Everything about Skorg Jameson was big, starting with his body and extending to his voice, hand gestures, and movements. He had long shaggy hair that touched the tops of his shoulders, a chest that bulged under his leather jerkin, and boots planted like tree trunks at the center of the hard-packed floor. He stood with his back to a massive fireplace and glared at those around him "I say the time is now! You saw what happened to Danga, to Katarn, and a dozen more... It's time to make a stand and show others what we can do!"
　It was a brave speech, and Morgan admired Jameson for making it. Especially in light of the fact that a spy could be present,or a listening device so sophisticated it had escaped the pre-meeting sweep. Of course the words did have a rehearsed quality, and could be part of Jameson's campaign for Sector Leader. There was applause and Morgan allowed it to fade awav before speaking his mind.
"I too tire of the pressure, the extortion, and the attacks. That's why it's tempting to look for an opportunity to strilke back... but at what cost? Yes, some extremely interesting intelligence has come ourway. Assuming that citizen Jameson's source of information is correct and Imperials disguised as Rebels or mercenaries are planning to attack the G-Tap."
　"Which would force us to buy a fusion plant from the SoroSuub Corporation, and pay taxes to the Empire," Jameson added pointedly.
　"Exactly," Morgan said agreeably. "Which is why we sold shares and drilled the shaft to begin with But what if there's an even deeper purpose? To not only destroy the Tap, but to lure us into a pitched battle and eliminate the Rebel infrastructure on Sulon? Guerilla raids are one thing, but our forces aren't trained or equipped to　fight Special. Operations commandos. If we lose, we lose more than the G-Tap, we lose Sulon herself."
　A good many heads nodded, and voices murmured agreement. Still, only seconds elapsed before one of Jameson's cronies stepped forward to reiterate the big man's point of view. The meeting lasted a full four hours, and by the time it was over, a consensus had been established. The time had come. The Sulon Rebels would defend the G-Tap with everything they had.
　The meeting was adjourned and the colonists headed for their vehicles. A highly modified probe droid watched from the cover of some trees. The robot counted the number of people who left, made infrared recordings of their movements, and listened to their parting comments. A summary went to the Vengeance seconds after the last conspirator departed and reached Jerec only minutes after that. The Dark Jedi listened to the report and returned to his carefully scented meal. He smiled. Seeds had been sown, crops had flourished, and the harvest was at hand.

Sullust
Sulon

Dark Forces
Soldier for the Empire
P.20-21

　The upper end of the Geo Thermal, G-Tap, was located in a sizable cavern chosen both for its relative proximity to the heat trapped in crustal rock formations three kilometers below, and the fact that it was impervious to air attack. A number of prefab structures had been erected around it, including buildings to house the water injection pumps, giant turbines, and adjunct control rooms. Morgann's assignment lay what the elsewhere, but he paused to catch his breath, and admire colonists had accomplished.
　The principle was relatively simple and had been put to use on various worlds prior to the rise of the New Order. Crustal rock formations are warmed by volcanic action, an upwelling of magma, and the natural decay of potassium, thorium, and uranium. By drilling extremely deep wells, the colonists could force water down through carefully engineered cracks, where it could be heated and pumped to the surface. There it would bring isobutane to a boil which would be forced through power-generating turbines. And all this was done without radioactive waste, potentially dangerous technology,or governmental taxes.
　That was the idea anyway, and, judging from the nearly completed complex, would soon be a reality. Assuming they could defend it. A voice callsed Morgan to turn "Citizen Katarn? I hoped I'd run into you."
　The information officer's name was Candice Ondi. She had brown hair, large intelligent eyes, and an ever-ready smile. In spite of the fact that she was dressed in the ubiquitous gray coveralls that many Rebs wore inatead of a uniform, Morgan knew she had a nice figure. He'd have been interested under normal circumstances, but the possibility that many of those around him might be dead soon acted to neutralize any such thoughts.
　Ondi traveled with a specially equipped chrome-plated protocol droid called "A-Cee." The robot spoke dozens of languages, had a zoom lens where its right eye sensor should have been, and the ability to record and digitally store more than a thousand hours of audio and video A-Cee walked with the slightly jerky motion typical of his kind and was engaged in a never-ending search for pickup shots.
　Morgan found the possibility that the droid might be recording at any given time more than a little annoying and forced a smile.
　"Captain Ondi... how nice to see you again."
　The officer laughed. "I see you're thrilled. Listen, I wanted to thank you for the footage. I'm sorry about what the commandos did to your farm, but a picture's worth a thousand words. Hundreds of thousands of sentients will see it and know what happened here."
　A column of Rebels jogged by, weapons held across their chests, headed for the canyon below. That was the most direct approach to the cavern and the one they expected the Imperials to take. The river which was to have fed the G-Tap would provide the stormtroopers with a straight-ahead approach. Morgan turned to Ondi. She dropped a holocam and allowed it to dangle from her wrist. Her eyes were greenish-brown and seemed to see his innermost thoughts. "So Morgan Katarn, you don't think much of our chances, do you?"
　Conscious of his role as a leader, and the importance of gooe morale, Mororgan lied. "On the contraty, Captain Ondi, I think we'll win."
　The information officer clearly didn't believe him. She nodded soberly, smiled crookedly, and removed a piece of lint from his shoulder. There was something personal about the gesture, which reminded Morgan of Kyle's mother. He smiled. "Take care of yourself, Captain. No matter what happens today, make sure they see it."
　Ondi nodded, a noncom called Morgan's name, and he turned away. They never saw each other again.

Sullust
Sulon

Dark Forces
Soldier for the Empire
P.21-24

　In spite of the fact that Major Noda had nominal command of ground forces, he was well aware of the fact that Jerec monitored everything he said and did via comlink transmissions, probe droids, and his own seemingly supernatural powers. The knowledge added to the already considerable amount of stress Noda was under.
　Though naturally cautious, Noda was no coward, and had bumped the AT-AT's commanding officer to see the terrain for himself. The walker was over fifteen meters tall and lurched from side to side as it waded upstream. Heavily eroded banks, their tops decorated with hardy-looking bushes, rose to either side.
　A great deal of time and energy had been spent painting Rebel insignia on the ATs. Noda considered such efferts a waste of time. After all,the very notion that the Rebels could capture such powerful weapons and turn them against their owners was absurd. Still, orders were orders, and the charade would continue.
　The pilot, who had spent most of the last three days in an AT-AT simulator preparing for this precise moment, handled the current with ease. Water swirled white around the machine's massive legs and raced downstream. A bend obscured the river ahead and Noda watched as the second of two AT-STs disappeared behind it. There was an explosion, smoke boiled up from the point the walkers should be, and the battle began.

Sullust
Sulon

Dark Forces
Soldier for the Empire
P.24

　Although Morgan didn't actually see the missile hit the AT-ST, he heard the comlink chatter that described it, and saw the smoke boil up from the canyon. In spite of his position as a resistance leader and respected member of the community, Morgan had relatively little military expertise. That's why he'd been relegated to what the Rebels commonly referred to as the "back door," the flat area above the cavern, which was accessed via an easily defended passageway that wound down through a series of caves and vaults and into the main chamber. Which explained why the twenty-six soldiers under Morgan's command were teenagers or senior citizens. They cheered as the walker exploded and were still celebrating when a woman named crowley touched his arm. She'd been a Master Sergeant in the Republic's Army and was the oniy member of his platoon with real combat experience. "Look, Morgan! Coming out of the sun!"
　Morgan pulled his visor into place and turned towards the sun. The vessel was too far away for a positive ID - but the Rebel knew what it was... The same Corellian-built freighter that had attacked his farm. Loaded with commandos and headed his way. He switched to the platoon frequency and warned his troops. "There's an Imperial assault ship headed in. Don't be fooled by the Rebel markings. Everyone but the missile team into the passageway. Trol... Jen... kill that ship before it lands."
　"Gotcha!"Trol said enthusiastically. "Don't worry, Morgan - the ship is toast. Come on, Jen - load my tube."
　The teenagers took up a position behind some boulders as the rest of the platoon scurried for the protection of the passageway. Trol his eyes on the heads up display projected on the inside surface of his visor, watched the ship grow larger. The launch tube rested on his right shoulder. The trick was to wait, thereby increasing the chance of a hit, but not too long since the SLM needed time to arm itself. That's where old man Danga had gone wrong. Trol was determined to get it right.

Sullust
Sulon

Dark Forces
Soldier for the Empire
P.24-25

　Trol heard a soft beeping sound through his ear plug, checked to make sure the crosshairs were properly centered on the underside of the ship, and pressed the firing stud. The tube lurched as the SLM raced upwards, hit the freighter dead on, and exploded. The ship lurched, slipped sideways, and steadied under Vester's hands. The Corellian shields, built to withstand the rigors of space combat, held.
　Trol felt a vague uneasiness in the pit of his stomach, waited for Jen to shove a second SLM into the tube, and fired again. The missile had barely left the launcher when the laser beam found it. Trol, Jen, and the boulders they had been hiding behind vanished in a flash of light.
　Morgan winced, thought about their families, and winced again. Then the freighter was down, commandos disguised as rebels were pouring out of its belly, and lasers were probing the rocks. Morgan fired and had the satisfaction of seeing an Imperial fall. Then it was time to pull back, take up a position behind the first of many preprepared rock barricades, and fight the first of what would turn out to be a long series of delaying actions.

Sullust
Sulon

Dark Forces
Soldier for the Empire
P.25-26

　The Rebels fought well, much better than Jerec, Thrawn, Noda, or Brazack thought they could or would, but the result was inevitable. Just as Morgan and his steadily diminishing team were driven inexorably down, the rest of the Rebel force, those who had confronted Noda down in the canyon, were forced up and back. The Imperiais paid a bloody price for each and every foot of ground they gained, but there were more of them and they were better trained. Finally, after four hours of intense combat, both contingents of stormtroopers met in the main chamber. The ensuing fight was brief and more than a little one-sided.
　Only thirty-seven colonists were left by that time. Those who could stand were lined up in front of the nearly completed G-Tap and sorted according to instructions issued by Jerec. Major Noda consulted a data pad as he inspected each face. Information provided by Jerec's agents combined with data compiled by probe droids had been used to create detailed profiles. Most of the Rebels would be put to death. A few, those who held leadership positions, would be held for interrogation.
　Morgan Katarn had been wounded two hours before. He swayed slightly as Major Noda made his way down the line. The Rebel leader harhored no illusions. He knew what awaited him and felt nothing but sadness, not for himself, but for the young people whose lives had barely begun.
　Noda's face was littie more than a blur when it appeared in front of him. Morgan had the vague impression of black hair, almond-shaped eyes, and high cheekbones. The voice was brusque and unemotional. "Jerec wants this one - take him to the shuttle." Hands grabbed Morgan's arms; he struggled to free himself, and fell as vertigo pulled him down.

Sullust
Sulon

Dark Forces
Soldier for the Empire
P.26-27

　A noncom slapped Morgan across the face while a medic injected something into his arm. Whatever it was cleared the cobwebs and left him unnaturally alert. So much so that he could see nearly microscopic differences between hull rivets, hear air as it passed through the recycling ducts, and feel drops of sweat as they popped through the surface of his skin. All for what? So he could feel pain more acutely - and teli them what they wanted to know.
　Morgan felt the toes of his boots bump over durasteel hull plating as the stormtroopers dragged him into the interrogation chamber and allowed him to fall. He was admiring the precision with which the construction droids had mated two of the floor plates when a pair of shiny black boots appeared in front of his face. They frightened him and he wasn't sure why.
　Hands grabbed Morgan under the armpits and lifted him to his feet. Black tattoos covered the lower portion of the face before him. The drugs in his bloodstream brought them to life. They slithered back and forth. He searched for his tormentor's eyes,for the pathway to his spirit, and found nothing but biackness. The man's words were soft and smelled of mint. This was the one known as Jerec. Morgan had heard of him.
　"Citizen Katarn - how nice to see you. Which would you prefer? A long, painful conversation? Or something brief and to the point? I would choose the second, less difficult path if I were in your position."
　Morgan's mouth felt desert dry. He worked his mouth as if preparing to speak, mustered some saliva, and aimed for Jerec's face. The liquid fell woefully short and splattered on the other man's boots. Jerec shook his head mockingly. "How disappointing. I expected more from someone of your reputation. A snappy reply, a Rebel slogan, or heroic silence. Ah, well, it's always better to overestimate one's opponents than the other way around. Now tell me, who do you take orders from, and where are they?"
　Morgan felt his heart pound against his chest. So that was it. Jerec hoped to start at the bottom and work his way up through the Rebel chain of command. Kill the leaders and you kill the revolution. It was as simple as that. He thought about Kyle, wished he'd been allowed to see him one last time, and willed himself to die. It didn't work. His mouth was still dry and words felt unwieldy. "A Gamorrean princess delivers my orders every morning and lives under my barn."
　Jerec fingered the baton-shaped vibroblade. Energy sizzled. The stink of ozone filled the air.
　Morgan thought about Kyle and the man he hoped his son would be. There was an explosion of light, his wife's face, and a feeling of peace.
　Jerec heard Morgan's head thump against the deck, found the vibroblade's off switch, and restored the device to his belt. "Many years ago I had the somewhat dubious pleasure of passing through Sulon's spaceport. A plain, rather spartan facility, as I recall - has it changed?"
　A noncom, the most senior trooper present, snapped to attention. He was terrified and unable to conceal it. "Sir! No,sir!"
　"Excellent. That being the case I would like to add a little color to the place. Install this head where all may see and take inspiration from it. In the meantime, I want the following message sent to Emperor Palpatine： 'Sulon has been pacified. Your obedient servant, Jerec.'"

Sullust
Sulon

Dark Forces
Soldier for the Empire
P.27-28