• Heinrikk Fritz paced himself nervously back and forth on the landing of the capital ship, the solar pincer. Heinrikk stood close to two meters tall. His blonde, buzz-cut hair was barely visible He had the strong build of a soldier… but his eyes told a different story of his past. Back on his home planet of Ecra, Private Heinrikk Fritz wasn't a soldier at all. The thirty-three year old soldier was a member of the true Ayran race. On his home planet of Erca, he was a political advisor for the people's galactic empire. Unlike many empires' before, the current was more of a democracy than an empire. But most of the empires like citizens like to think of it as such. Although Heinrikk was wedded, empirical law stated that a couple must have at least seven years of marriage before a child could be conceived…he and Amalia had only been together for six. But then before the year was up, a problem arose. That problem was free world rebellion. A separatist faction of rogue planets fed up with the ways of an empire. The problems began with a cold war, and then guerilla warfare between Imperial troops and FWR opened up on the neighboring planet of Echatt. This was the onset for the war. And in a few hours, that war would to begin. The battle plan for the empire was remarkably simple. Getting the job done however, was the difficult part.

    Whilst pacing back and forth, Heinrikk bumped into a passing soldier named Pedar Silvus. Field marshal Silvus. "Snap the ******** out of it Fritz." Silvus whispered loudly. "Behavior like that where we're going will get you shot dead as soon as you get off that ramp! The natives tend to kill the weak early on." The marshal added on harshly in another loud whisper. "We're not going to be fighting the natives' sir." Heinrikk replied. "The ******** natives' are on an F.W.R planet! It doesn't matter if we aren't going to be waging war with them or not! F.W.R troops are supporting the natives'…so therefore we have to kick both their ******** asses." The marshal shouted. "I understand, sir." Heinrikk replied. "Alright, now report to sector twenty-four five." Marshal Silvus instructed. "The rest of the company is having a pre invasion meeting about Ancra." The very name of the planet was enough to send a chill down Heinrikk's spine. The stories brought back from imperial explorers had been enough to startle even the strongest of soldiers. After a rather long walk to the meeting room, Heinrikk had reached his destination and now was sitting at a small, plastic chair. In the center of the room was Commander Brewer. "ALRIGHT LADIES GET QUIET." The short man thundered loudly. "Pay attention and you'll do just fine. Tone me out and you'll get your head shot off." He added on. After that all eyes were on him. "Alright, now that I have your attention, let's get down to business." Brewer said as a hologram of a swampy, desolate planet flashed into view. "This is Ancra. Nothing more than a giant swamp and a few villages, but since the Emperor wants to take it to the F.W.R…we fight here first." He explained as a hologram of a lanky, bipedal reptile came into view next to the hologram Ancra. "This is a native inhabitant. Once you land…" Brewer said calmly "YOU MUST. KEEP YOUR EYES. OPEN." He shouted. "These tricky mother ******** can hide so fast it'd make your heads spin."

    Three brief hours after the meeting and the final pre-invasion preparation were being put into action. An army of five hundred thousand men and women stood in perfect rows of one hundred. Each one of them armed to the teeth with different weaponry. Some with sniper rifles, some with assault rifles, some with flame throwers. Each soldier war the same splotchy mud brown uniform with hints of green thrown in. Some wore face paint. In the thirty-fourth row stood Private Fritz. Behind him were the tenth, twelfth, and thirty-fourth tank battalions. An over head voice crackled over the ship's intercom. It was Commander Brewer. "Ladies and gentleman of the Imperial army," He began. "You are about to embark on a great crusade to protect the name of your empire. Some of you will not return, and you are the true heroes. Make your empire proud. Thirty seconds until landing." Brewer said calmly…maybe the calmest he had ever been in his long life.

    The silence of the next twenty seconds was broken by the sounds of snapping of thick, heavy trees. The loud rumble of tank engines coming to life. Then sound of the landing gears' being released. Somewhere towards the front an officer gave the signal…"CLEAR THE RAMP."

    And that was how the war began. During the initial invasion of Ancra, imperial ground troops were slaughtered on the massive scale. The FWR forces where never encountered by imperial troops. It was false information. The empire won the battle, but was ultimately not prepared for the Ancran terrain, climate, or the guerrilla warfare. Of the five hundred thousand troops that landed, only sixty three thousand survived…half of those surviving were wounded, including Heinrikk. Brewer was reported to have been killed at the battle of black river. Silvus was taken prisoner and never seen again after that.

    Tuesday, July 7th 2064

    Dear diary, I'm finally getting the time to write down what has happened in the last twenty something years! Alright, here we go. Two thousand sixty-four, life is nothing like what it used to be. Life has changed. In two thousand twenty seven, the Earth Space Federation has intercepted radio waves from a distant vessel, immense in size. Contact with an alien culture had been begun. The ESP planned to open up peaceful negotiations. The extra-terrestrials had other ideas. The aliens, who referred to themselves as the Procella, were an immense galactic force that spread across the stars enslaving the inhabitants of planets and continuing their conquest. They were also members of a faction at war called the Free Worlds Rebellion. The vessel housed hundreds of thousands of alien creatures, forced as slaves to work for the Procella. The vessel fired hundreds of energy beams and nuclear weapons at the Earth below. Within three years, all ESP forces had surrendered and the Procella were the victors. Over the next twenty years, the Procella employed their work force comprised of other aliens used as slaves to build another empire on this planet while controlling the humans. Humans were given strict orders on how to live or otherwise be eradicated. For example, one child per couple, no contact with other species and so on. By two thousand fifty, Earth had changed completely into a dystopian empire.
    The present year is two thousand sixty-four. Everything is as it was, the Procella maintaining an iron grip on the world. But all of that would soon be subject to change. Back on Ecra, a stress signal was picked up. That signal had come straight from Earth.The empire sent them in the night, using massive black ships with overwhelming fire power.

    They used these black ships to blend in with the night sky...and there they sat...sitting...and waiting...until a Procellian fighter plane smashed into the side of one of the behemoth ships. They must've thought we attacked them first. Then their attack began. Using advanced weaponry they fought against our technology, which in comparison was primitive due to the fact that the Procellian over lords wouldn't allow us to use their technology. Regardless of what we had, we fought them as hard as we possibly could, but to little avail. They came, they waited, and then they dominated. The fighting lasted only a night until they recognized us in the morning. In the morning we saw them for the first time. They were beautiful. They looked just like us but...different. Each one of them were tall, had green eyes, clear pale white skin, and black hair. They called themselves the Dellans of Nibrua. They claimed that it was needed for the Dellans to take over...to prevent massive conflicts such as the Second World War. We didn't expect them to be here for that reason, as we didn't expect there to be a war waging among the stars. But that didn't matter to them. Earth was now a battle front in a massive war...the Dellans and Earthlings against the iron grip of the Procellians.

    Erich Lennon scribbled down his words quickly, he didn't have to do write fast, but getting caught with a diary wasn't something that he or any other male soldier really wanted to happen. In the other room he could hear the excitement of his comrades. "Hey, what's with all the excitement?" He called out. There was a brief pause before a short, freckle faced girl with light brown hair and hazel eyes burst into Erich's private room. "157th unit just captured Berlin" She exclaimed in one quick sentence. "Wow! You're kidding me right?" Erich asked skeptically and got up out of his seat. "NO!" She said practically shouting at him. Berlin was the former capital of Germany, but after the FWR forces and Procellian forces came in, Berlin became a major industrial site for their own needs. They could spew out twenty tanks or planes per day. Berlin falling into Imperial forces has a heavy blow, but they still had several other places in the world to produce weapons. She pulled Erich into the large room where several troops had surrounded the TVs and radios. On the TV, a group of Human and Imperial troops sat on and around a Dellan tank that was parked in front of the Reichstag, waving and smiling excitedly into the camera. To Erich, they looked like the soldiers that had fought in Europe one hundred and twenty years before. On the radio the words could be heard. "People of the world in war, here we stand in a wide open gate way into the heartland of Europe. We expect Germany to fall into our hands in less than a month, the Soviet Union to fall into our hands in less than three months, and then Asia to fall into our hands in less than a year." By this point the troops on the TV were cheering. "Great, we got one city and they expect us to win the fight all the more sooner?! Just ******** great" A tall guy with a buzz cut said sarcastically. "Adrian, I swear if you don't shut it I'll send you to fight in Siberia, am I understood Sergeant?" Erich asked in a warning tone. "Yes Lieutenant" Adrian said and threw himself down onto a chair mumbling.

    Outside the skies were growing dark. This was the time when Procellian bomber squadrons would start to make their nightly rounds. A man in his early sixties with a scruffy white beard and sunken in baby blue eyes, trudged over slowly to where the anti-aircraft guns were located. In his aging hands he carried to large buckets, both about four feet high and three feet wide. Each night, just before six thirty he went around and loaded the anti-aircraft guns with incendiary rounds. "I missed ya old friend" he said to the first gun emplacement he stopped at to prep. Twenty years before, this was his own gun...his pride and joy. On one of the double barrels 'Garrison Nelson' was carved in. And on the other 'Melissa Boukman' was carefully carved in. He personally carved that name in. Melissa was his high school sweet heart, and eventually his wife. But she was sent off to some other world by the Procellians. Twenty five minutes was all it took for him to load the guns, and then it was off to the underground base's retirement sector to play bingo