The Hoth Massacare

[Christopher Gue]

The small shuttle swung through the system, thrusting off the gravity of the other planetary bodies before using its own engines. The snowy white ball called Hoth loomed in front of it, its only major inhabitant, Imperials. The Hoth base was an insignificant backwater base, an ill informed, poorly supplied, and low morale base of operations for the mineral rich Hoth system.

The space operations Directorate had detected the shuttle as soon as it had entered system. Its moves being tracked and defense's initiated.
"Attention incoming shuttle, this is the Hoth Imperial Outpost, Identify yourself immediatly"
"...."
"I repeat, this is the Hoth Imperial Outpost, Identify yourself immediatly or we will be forced to respond with hostile action"
"..."
Klaxons rang in the small outpost as outter hangar doors opened up to the freezing winds of the Hoth wastes. A squadron of TIE fighters emerged, their engines screaming into space as they flew off to intercept. Approaching the vessels they hailed it one last time
"Intruding vessel, this is your finnal chance to comply"
The shuttle entered Hoth's atmosphere by this time, its nose pointed directly towards the Hoth base. The immediate TIE's backed away as the rear patrol opened fire on the vessels engines. The shuttles hindquarters burst into flame as it hurtled planetside. As the shuttle struck the planet it uped a huge amount of snow all over.
A figure emerged from the wreckage of the shuttle, a figure clad in red armor, his cape billowing in the wind. The TIE squadron began a fly by to attempt identification of the person below, but like a flash the red figure below raised his arms, aiming some sort of hand blaster towards the TIE pilot.
"Command I think we got a wacko out here, we should leave him to die out here, I dont think we have anything to be con..."
[I]The message immediatly ceased as the red man shot his gun, the shot flying through the space between them, breaking through the plasteel viewing plate, striking the Pilot square in the face. His drooped body fell over the controls, sending the fighter out of control. It slammed into the two craft behind it as it twirled, cuasing a chain of effects that brought down the entire squadron in one firey explosion.
The man in red tucked the gun back under his cloak, turning his back on the scene and trudging along towards Hoth Base...

[Wolfgang Schreiger]

<center>Naboo</center>

(The Royal Palace of Theed no longer played host to an elected queen or king, but its opulance had far from diminished. Even under Imperial occupation, it had remained lavish and beautiful, as had most of the Royal city. The dark underbelly was that the natural riches of Naboo were constantly being acquired through Gungan forced labor. But for Grand Moff Wolfgang Schreiger...it was out of sight, and out of mind. The sub-humans were playing their part in the glorious Galactic Empire, and moreso, making him even richer, which was always a bonus. When he wasn't organizing the subjugation of star systems, Schreiger had become a generous patron of the arts on Naboo, causing a blossoming in new works...although they were of a somewhat questionable nature.)

Glorious. Wonderful.

(A series of muted claps could be heard in the main atrium of the Royal Palace, as a team of artisans unveiled their latest sculpture. It was a bronze piece of Schreiger, staring out into eternity, as he plants the imperial standard into the ground. Though it was obviously the Grand Moff, his stature had been exaggerated, as well as his physical attributes and general looks. Indeed, it looked more like the image of a classical God than it resembled the mundane Imperial warlord. Nevertheless, the Vice Diktat applauded...

...and thus, so did all others in attendance. After all...who was foolish enough to question their leader's genius?

A reception soon commenced near the statue, with caterers serving champagne, and fine hors d'ouvers (sp) to those in attendance. Schreiger, with a beautiful "assistant" in tow, began to greet his aristocratic lackeys, toasting them and drolling on in nearly-scripted pleasantries. However, a black-uniformed man soon strode into the atrium. With a crisp salute, he whispered into Schreiger's ear. The Grand Moff slowly withdrew from his assistant's embrace, a poisonous scowl on his face as he exited the party with the subordinate officer. Bad news was spoiling his fine splendid affair.)