T-229
Stormtrooper
"P-please, sir. There's no need for any of this. We don't know of any facility, the Empire hasn't been to Nyemari in ce-" The old man's words were cut short as the butt of an ancient and scoured E-11 rifle struck him squarely across the jaw. A loud crack rang out, the shattering of bone echoing out in the small clearing. Gasps from the crowd echoing out as the man went falling back into the already collecting mud.
Raindrops splashed his skin as he fell into the soiled earth, his jaw half hanging from his skull as he looked up towards the trooper with his rifle already aimed.
The trademark screech of the E-11 cried out in the midst of the rain, gasps turned to screams of despair.
Women fell to their knees, men cried out, and children hid within the clothes of their parents. A turmoil rushed through those gathered within the small village. Men and women who had never known the Empire suddenly treated with the heavy hand of tyranny they were simply unused to. Rancor and rigor took over them. Pleading turned to shouts of anger and disgust. Cries of lament twisted themselves to raging phenom.
In an instant the crowd turned upon the gathered Stormtroopers. Perhaps they thought they had the numbers, or perhaps in their ignorance they simply did not understand who it was they were facing. Not soldiers of some age of peace, not men and women created in a time of serenity. They were Stormtroopers, bred and trained to put down partisans and rebels. The backbone of an Empire that for all right, should still be standing.
The ragged screams of dying men was nearly drowned out by the concert of blaster fire.
Pitchforks and hunting rifles proved no match for the discipline of the Empire, and within just a few minutes of the insurrection the village had been quelled.
By the end, dozens of corpses lay scattered around the central market square. The patter of rain now a near torrent, shaking and huddled figures forced to kneel in the muk, blasters pointed at their backs.
The sight was a grim one, and yet all too familiar to many parts of the galaxy. "Well done, Sergeant."
T-229 stood at the forefront of his men, the painted lines upon his helm a mark of his rank. His back was stiff, rifle held at attention as one of the few remaining Officers of The Manticore slowly walked along the line of prisoners. The man eyed some of the villagers with a practiced eye, noting some of them for a few moments and pointed to a few before gesturing to one of the other Troopers who had followed him from the dropship.
"Take these back to the Manticore. There are still many questions to be answered." Silent compliance was the answer the Captain received, two of T-229's troopers quickly stepping forward to violently grab the Prisoners. A hand was wrapped around each of the new inmates cuffs, and then they were violently rent to their feet. Tugged along and treated as little more than cattle while the Captain returned his attention to the task at hand. "Have you located the Facility, Sergeant?"
No hesitation awaited the Captain, T-229 answering almost as soon as he finished speaking. "Yes Sir, Sector 3, buried under the mountain. We bel-"
Before the trooper could finish his debrief the other Imperial cut him off with a wave.
"Good. Secure it, then place the homing beacons." The Captain said, already setting off back towards the drop-ship he had flown in on. His steps hot on the heels of his prisoners. "Do not fail us, Sergeant. We have neither the patience, nor the men to spare."
T-299 stood in silence, offering a nod of simple acceptance to his Commanding Officer. A second later his teeth clicked, the comm-line in his helmet switching instantly as he began to bark orders to the Troopers he had been allowed to take to the surface with him.
It was only a few minutes later that the small Imperial convoy began to head into the mountains, leaving behind nothing but the sight of a massacre.
Raindrops splashed his skin as he fell into the soiled earth, his jaw half hanging from his skull as he looked up towards the trooper with his rifle already aimed.
The trademark screech of the E-11 cried out in the midst of the rain, gasps turned to screams of despair.
Women fell to their knees, men cried out, and children hid within the clothes of their parents. A turmoil rushed through those gathered within the small village. Men and women who had never known the Empire suddenly treated with the heavy hand of tyranny they were simply unused to. Rancor and rigor took over them. Pleading turned to shouts of anger and disgust. Cries of lament twisted themselves to raging phenom.
In an instant the crowd turned upon the gathered Stormtroopers. Perhaps they thought they had the numbers, or perhaps in their ignorance they simply did not understand who it was they were facing. Not soldiers of some age of peace, not men and women created in a time of serenity. They were Stormtroopers, bred and trained to put down partisans and rebels. The backbone of an Empire that for all right, should still be standing.
The ragged screams of dying men was nearly drowned out by the concert of blaster fire.
Pitchforks and hunting rifles proved no match for the discipline of the Empire, and within just a few minutes of the insurrection the village had been quelled.
By the end, dozens of corpses lay scattered around the central market square. The patter of rain now a near torrent, shaking and huddled figures forced to kneel in the muk, blasters pointed at their backs.
The sight was a grim one, and yet all too familiar to many parts of the galaxy. "Well done, Sergeant."
T-229 stood at the forefront of his men, the painted lines upon his helm a mark of his rank. His back was stiff, rifle held at attention as one of the few remaining Officers of The Manticore slowly walked along the line of prisoners. The man eyed some of the villagers with a practiced eye, noting some of them for a few moments and pointed to a few before gesturing to one of the other Troopers who had followed him from the dropship.
"Take these back to the Manticore. There are still many questions to be answered." Silent compliance was the answer the Captain received, two of T-229's troopers quickly stepping forward to violently grab the Prisoners. A hand was wrapped around each of the new inmates cuffs, and then they were violently rent to their feet. Tugged along and treated as little more than cattle while the Captain returned his attention to the task at hand. "Have you located the Facility, Sergeant?"
No hesitation awaited the Captain, T-229 answering almost as soon as he finished speaking. "Yes Sir, Sector 3, buried under the mountain. We bel-"
Before the trooper could finish his debrief the other Imperial cut him off with a wave.
"Good. Secure it, then place the homing beacons." The Captain said, already setting off back towards the drop-ship he had flown in on. His steps hot on the heels of his prisoners. "Do not fail us, Sergeant. We have neither the patience, nor the men to spare."
T-299 stood in silence, offering a nod of simple acceptance to his Commanding Officer. A second later his teeth clicked, the comm-line in his helmet switching instantly as he began to bark orders to the Troopers he had been allowed to take to the surface with him.
It was only a few minutes later that the small Imperial convoy began to head into the mountains, leaving behind nothing but the sight of a massacre.
