Governor's Gambit - Star Wars SI into Imperial Governor

[Yacov]

Omake: The Guild 650 Starflier

Production Information

Manufacturer: Guild of Commerce, Production and Protection

Model: Guild 650 Starflier Civilian Shuttle

Type:
Official: Shuttle
Unofficial: "Shuttle"

Cost:
85,000 Credits new
120,000 Credits with "Fighting Star" modification package

——

Technical Specifications

Maximum Atmospheric Speed:
New: 750 km/h
"Fighting Star": 900 km/h

Engine unit(s):
New: one off the shelf ion drive
"Fighting Star": one R303 Ion Jet Engine and additional maneuver thrusters

Hyperdrive:
New: None
"Fighting Star": yes, often a Avatar-10 Class 2 Hyperdrive

Shielding:
New: None
"Fighting Star": mediocre deflector shield generator

Power: fusion reactor

Hull: titanium hull

Sensors: short range sensors

Armament: 3 front facing weapon mounts
New: 2 light laser cannons
"Fighting Star": 2 medium laser cannons and 1 medium ion cannon

Crew: 1 (pilot)

Cargo Capacity: 25 tons. 24.7 tons OCCL rated. 24.5 tons used in the standard "Fighting Star" modification package.

Life Support: Equipped

Consumables: 3 days standard

Other Systems:

"Fighting Star" modifications:

Chaff Dispenser
Reinforced Cockpit

Other common modifications:

Space Mine Layer
Dumb Fire Bomb Bay
Wing Mounted Missile Racks
Rear Manned Turret
Tug Rated Tractor Beam

——

Usage

Availability:

• Civilian issue

Role:

• Short distance cargo shuttle
• Easy to legally own small starship that just so happens to be passable at fighting in the stars.

Affiliation:

• The Guild
• Mercenaries
• Private Citizens
• Independent Groups
• Merchant Companies

——

Description

"What's that one?"
"That's a 650 Starflier. The Guild came out with it last year."
"Really, because it feels like I have seen it before decades ago." - a pair of shipwatchers seeing a Starflier for the first time.

If there were two words that could be used to describe the 650 Starflier it would be "generic" and "workable". Developed by the Guild after the Battle of Yavin, this shuttle quietly slipped past Imperial regulators with minimal fanfare or inspection. A decision the initial review board might be kicking themselves for to this very day.

The 650 Starflier enjoys a robust aftermarket of modifications catered to by owners, part companies, and the Guild itself. The wide array of customization appeals to citizens and Guild members alike who enjoy tailoring their personal vehicles to their own preferences.

Design

"So you took an ATT, stripped off the skirt, then slapped a pair of wings and an ion drive on the back. Congratulations I hate it." - Imperial Procurement Officer upon receiving the design from the Guild marketing department.

The design philosophy for the 650 Starflier followed the maxims of simplicity and ease of manufacture. The main body was given a diagonal teardrop shape with two wings on the jutting out from the top back along with the Starflier's single ion drive.

For armaments the Starflier has three front facing weapon mounts. Two on the sides and one near the chin on the bottom. This is despite the production model only coming the two light laser cannons.

What the 650 Starflier lacks in outward charm, it more than makes up for in "useful" storage space. The ship's Open Concept Component Layout allows for ease of installation of new systems and upgrading old ones into a ship capable of jumping to hyperspace and defending itself against other small ships.

The process is so easy that some theorize that the 650 Starflier is initially manufactured with components like a hyperdrive, shield generator, and other combat oriented components already installed. The components were then removed in order to meet the legal requirements for the shuttle designation. The Guild strenuously denies these claims, although never strenuously enough to sue and be forced to offer proof in court.

Manufactured primarily from generic, off brand, and off the shelf parts, the Starflier enjoyed very little maintenance and repair difficulties. One could easily fix most of the issues and damages in the unmodified Starflier ended up with at a Limited Services Level Spaceport at minimum. With anything more serious being able to be done at a Standard Class starport or better. A Starflier could theoretically operate away from urbanized planets for extended periods of time as long as supplies and maintenance remained plentiful and frequent.

Performance

"Listen buddy, you don't buy Starfliers because they are the best thing on the market. You buy Starfliers because you can purchase them legally and quickly without getting an Imperial Inspector breathing down your neck." - Head of Procurement for a Guild Merchant Company when asked why he just put in an order for two dozen Starfliers.

The 650 Starflier is publicized as a cheap and reliable shuttle for the general consumer. In this respect it checked all the boxes. However, the Starflier had to compete with hundreds of other designs that promise the exact same thing. Some having far larger ship building corporations backing them. So it was never going to become a well known name for its marketed purpose.

It was seen as inevitable that the 650 Starflier would become known for its modified variants over the production model. Performance wise, the Starflier "Fighting Star" and other combat oriented variants were rated as a lesser midpoint between the TIE and the X-wing. The ship failed to equal or sometimes even compete with either in their respective strengths. This was especially the case when it came to speed, arguably the Starflier's poorest performing quality, due to limited space for engines. Choosing to focus on not using military grade components and modularity led to a ship that was overall mediocre to below average in combat for its size when compared with most modern military models.

Efforts were made by users and modifiers to give the 650 Starflier an edge. The "Fighting Star" came with what some would consider an excessive amount of maneuvering thrusters as well as extra padding and safety features in the cockpit. This allowed the Starflier to be surprisingly agile and maneuverable despite what its relatively bulky appearance would suggest. However few could deny that instead of sinking money into making the Starflier the best in the battlefield, it was cheaper and easier to just buy a dedicated combat starship.

This report suited the makers of the 650 Starflier just fine. The ship was never intended to be the best ship in a battlefield. Any well-maintained military grade ship with a competent pilot was expected to beat the 650 Starflier one on one. Rather the designers were aiming to be the ship that was the comparatively easiest to acquire and maintain at a high condition.

The favored mission the 650 Starflier combat variants were designed to go up against was fighting Uglies and other poorly maintained or jury rigged pirate ships attempting to raid convoys or fixed installations. The hope was the Starflier's ability to almost always operate at its best would be its main advantage against raiders who lacked the ability to keep their ships in good shape and thus suffer performance issues. The ship may run into problems with the "elite" forces of larger and more powerful criminal syndicates with their own supply lines, but for the more common pirate the design theory was deemed sound enough for production.

Reception

"Sir I assure you we only sell system shuttles at this location. Now on an unrelated note if you scroll to the next page of our catalog you will find a very nice deal on some Hyperdrives that just came in last month." - Guild starship salesperson when asked about the 650 Starflier's capabilities.

When the 650 Starflier came on the market it was met with mild interest from the Myto Sector. The Imperial Military was completely turned off by the design. Large companies already had procurement contracts with large starship companies. The OCCL was seen as novel, but nothing to change direction over.

Where the 650 Starflier found its niche was in the smaller players in the sector. Low ranking Guild mercenaries found the Starflier to be an affordable and low maintenance starter option for taking their operations into offworld. The cost, ease of installing upgrades, and proximity to the main production facilities meant there was always a demand floor for Starfliers by the more combat focused groups in Guild space.

Merchant companies appreciated the 650 Starflier for the versatility it gave their shipping convoys. On more peaceful routes they could assist with the transferring of cargo. While on more dangerous routes they could be easily militarized to provide security. Plenty of convoys could be seen sporting small swarms of "shuttle wings" around the Myto sector. For smaller budget minded companies, one ship that could perform two different jobs well enough was seen as preferable to investing in separate specialized ships.

Imperial Inspectors came to hate the 650 Starflier. The shuttle designation and straddling the line between transport and combat ship aggravated many an Inspector. They would arrive at a hanger expecting to find a plethora of combat ships, only for a tip off to result in them getting chewed by the superior after wasting time harassing "some harmless lightly armed shuttles".

Imperial Governors and the Imperial military generally ignored the 650 Starflier. The design was unappealing and its performance was seen as an ineffectual compromise when compared to their TIEs. Faith in the current laws and regulations against owning heavy starship armaments and military sublight engines assuaged most worries of the Starflier becoming a threat to their forces.

Conclusion

The 650 Starflier is not a ship with flare. It is not trying to impress anyone in any sense or metric. No one with more than a dozen hours behind a cockpit is going to be excited to fly a Starflier. However, they will be able to work with the Starflier in almost any reasonable circumstance or mission profile.

Because the Starflier is designed to be a workhorse of any spacefaring organization. It is a draft animal that occasionally has a saddle thrown on its back and ridden into battle. It will try its best at what people are trying to get it to do whether that is being a transport shuttle, a courier, a tug, a convoy escort, or even a bomber. The Starflier is a ship designed for potential that gives people a chance to attempt almost anything with it and have the possibility of succeeding.

——

This time on Guild Legal Definition Dodging: the 650 Starflier. Aftermarket Upgrade Incarnate while still keeping it to legally acquirable parts for civilians. Something that is definitely a shuttle, and not that other "s-word" that would lead to a lot more legal trouble for the manufacturers and paperwork and costs for the owners. Just a regular ship with no legally questionable collective incentives to lie about or obfuscate its capabilities.

The design was basically ripped wholesale from the CTE 750 AE Civilian Starflier, the beginner ship from the 2003 Sci-fi game Freelancer. Found an old playthrough on YouTube and loved the minimalist design. Figured the design would work as a grunt ship for the Guild given its quasi-civilian nature and decentralized command structure. A few dozen systems under a faction's influence is enough to warrant a signature ship in my opinion.

Crossposted on SB and SV

 

[Freefaller]

Chp-76

It turned out to be that Garps fashion show was on Dubrillion just a day before the next Guild meeting. It was even in the same city!

Honestly, the fact that he got into a show in Dubrillion's capital city, and so close to the Imperial Center as well is quite impressive

It was also convenient, considering the meeting. Which I wasn't looking forward to at all.

The original plan was to have a meeting 3 times a year, every 4 months. With extra meetings being called in case of some sort of dispute, major problem, or other potential considerations.

Of course, the Rebels Mid-Rim Offensive was one such problem. It hadn't spread out here, and likely wouldn't. However, many of the Myto sectors out of sector business connections were in the Mid-Rim, or used Mid-Rim trade routes, so the Guild was convening to discuss policy and the like.

Regardless, I pushed those thoughts from my mind. That was tomorrow's business. Tonight, I had a show to watch.

The venue was surprisingly packed. Not only were there news crews, but many members of the sector's high society were there. I recognized a great many, from Governors to business magnates alike.

Seems Garp had gotten quite the chance. I'd known about his fashion gigs for a while, as he seemed to be at a show just about every weekend.

Still, to manage a spot out here? It was impressive.

I took a sip of my drink, a sweet, fizzy thing the server had ensured me was non-alcoholic. I didn't really like getting drunk. I lacked control over my mind and body.

And, to be frank, back on Earth the one time I got drunk I drove my car into the mayor's pool, then puked on his shoes.

Suffice to say, booze wasn't for me.

And neither were fizzy drinks, but I had to drink something, else I'd look weird. It also let me look like I was doing something without actually doing something. So, I took another sip of this strange concoction that I just knew I would be drowning out with some coco, and took a hard look around.

Garp said he'd meet me during the opening party, before the show started, but I'd yet to see him. And he was nothing if not punctual.

Taking a look around, I spotted what I thought was him, but was simply another Muun. In fact, there were several Muuns.

Interesting. Garp was for all intents and purposes one of the only Muuns in the sector. Aside from the larger group I hired to work in the financial analysis team on Clok, that is.

Taking a closer look, I see Garp among the group, chatting with the other Muuns. Making my way over to them, their conversation grows louder.

"...fail to see the economic opportunity in this endeavor." I catch the tail end of a particularly tall Muuns sentence as I enter auditory range. Catching Garps gaze, I see what I can only guess is relief flash across his eyes.

"Ah, Governor. So glad to see you here, please, meet my family." He says, confirming that it was indeed relief that he was feeling.

I'm getting better at this 'reading people' thing. Quite proud of myself.

Shaking his hand, I turn towards the group, taking a quick scan. There are four of them, all at least a head taller than me, with pale skin and a surprisingly simple dress. Their outfits consisted mostly of whites, blacks and greys, with simple designs and patterns.

It's quite the contrast to Garps own outfit, which is his own take on Mindan Industrial Formal wear, the gas mask stuff. He's wearing slim black trousers covered in patches of thin protective armor sheets. Tall engineering boots polished to a shine come up to his ankles, and a thin metallic high collar coat is clasped around his shoulders. A ceramic mask hangs around his neck like a necklace, while thinly armored fingerless gloves adorn his hands.

Suffice to say, he looks damn good.

Still, I identify the supposed leader of the group of Muun in an instant. The tallest among them is already stepping forward, attempting to take charge of the situation. So, I preempt him by holding out my hand for a greeting.

"Hello there, I'm Governor Las Mola. Pleased to meet you."

"I am Doksleathus Hath, father of Garpastealap Hath." The tall Muun said as I mentally slot him in as 'Dok'. "You are the Governor of the Minda system, yes? From which the Myto sectors Guild emerged?"

"That's correct. The Guild started in the Minda and Edin systems, and spread from there."

He hummed, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "It is quite similar to the initial rise of the Corporate sector, is it not?"

I'll be the first to admit, I squealed a little on the inside. Do you know how many people talk to me about economics? No one!

"Oh in some respects certainly. However, the Guild has been built with specific protections in place to ensure that mega corporations don't gain as much power. Giants like the Trade Federation are examples of how such entities can wreak havoc on local economies. After all, I don't want to end up like the Ferros Sector did under the Federation."

His eyes widened back up again. "The Ferros Disaster. I've lectured on that topic. A prime example of monopolistic failure."

My grin widens. "Exactly! That's why the Guild focuses on smaller companies and diversifying opportunities. Sure, there can be efficiency problems, but it's worth it for the stability."

This conversation continued for some time, of which we had plenty. I had arrived early with Garp, after all.

It was some of the most fun I've had since finding myself in this universe. Which seems somewhat concerning now that I think about it.

"Ah, but shipping is getting quite expensive, now isn't it. Security companies are charging premiums far above the norm. It's been hurting my company." Said Lisadratacal Hath, or Lisa, Garps sister.

She was apparently CEO of a fairly successful logistics company in the Obtrexta sector, which was a nice surprise. I was thinking about contracting her to streamline logistics for some computer parts needed by the shipyards. However, it seemed she'd run into trouble.

Her mother, Yaranampali Hath, hummed in agreement. "Yes, I've noticed as well. Its getting harder and harder to affordably ship medicine outside the sector." Ah, yes, the mother. CEO of a major Pharma company.

"It's the rebels causing all this grief. Security companies insist they are under more danger from rebel forces, even out here." Grumbled Dok, who himself is also a CEO, this time of a conglomerate that encompasses many things.

Suffice to say, Garps family is full of fucking monsters. And I'm having the time of my life.

"I'm actually planning to run some risk-guaranteed contracts with some security companies soon. They charge their regular rates, and in 10 months if the average premium rates haven't dropped for other companies due to the risk dropping, I pay them the difference."

"And if it does drop, you get away with 10 months of cheaper security. Quite the gamble, isn't it." Replies Dok, sipping at his glass.

I smile. "True, subsidizing these contracts for merchants and sec-companies does have a risk, but I tell you what. This conflict won't last 10 months. I bet it won't last 5."

And it wouldn't. While the Alliance started their Mid-Rim Offensive stronger than I thought, they were making the same mistakes. They were trying to fight the Empire on even ground when they were nowhere near even. In canon the Offensive started in 1ABY, and ended in 3ABY. However, by the end of 1ABY it was no longer called an Offensive.

It was called a retreat.

Which meant that in around 5-6 months, the Alliance would be on the backfoot, more likely to lose territory than gain it. The threat would diminish, and security companies would start reducing premiums.

It was a guaranteed win.

At this, Lisa started to say something, but was interrupted by the lights going dim. The stage and walkway started to glow with embedded lights as the announcer came on stage to speak his piece.

After a little bit of talking and some bad jokes that people laughed at out of courtesy, the show properly began.

The first few pieces were, suffice to say, boring. They were clearly made to cater to the Imperial sense of taste and aesthetics, featuring mostly whites, greys and blacks. Many in fact looked like modified versions of various Imperial uniforms.

It took a while for the outfits to start getting interesting, with more color being introduced, alongside actually unique designs.

Like a trench coat hand woven with very thick threads, near as thick as my finger. Not particularly interesting, but a nice break from the monotony.

Then came Garps piece. Now, they weren't announcing whose piece was whose. But when a human woman stepped out onto the walkway wearing a dress made of interlinked, chainmail style equilateral triangles, I knew it was Garps.

Partially because it was the best one yet, and partially because it was very reminiscent of the Tula style of battle dress. The main difference being that these triangles didn't stay one color. Slowly but surely, they shifted colors. Like a chameleon but in such a way that, if one wasn't looking for it, they wouldn't notice until an hour had passed and they were wearing a very different looking dress.

After this came only the bangers. Like Garps business suits, which featured metal linings that shimmered in the air. Or a full suit of power armor that was incredibly lithe, looking more fit for a ballroom than a battlefield.

Suffice to say, the crowd seemed to love it. Every time one of Garps pieces came on stage, people seemed enamored. Well, enamored in that way rich people are, where instead of cheering they just whisper loudly to each other.

By the end of the show, it was clear whose pieces had taken the cake. And it seemed everyone and their grandma wanted to meet the designer.

The looks on their faces when they realized the designer wasn't human was an incredible feeling, honestly. It was as if they'd sucked on a lemon then got punched in the gut. Watching some of these nobles practically grind their teeth into dust complimenting his work was hilarious.

Regardless, I leave the show with Garp in tow, making way towards our hotel by shuttle. While flying, we talk about the night.

"You sure enjoyed speaking with my family, Governor." He remarked.

I grin. "Of course! They speak my language, how couldn't I?"

"Better you than me, sir."

"Family troubles?"

"Like you wouldn't believe."

"Same."

We both let out simultaneous sighs of familial exhaustion. Locking eyes, neither one of us can stop ourselves from letting out some pretty damn childish giggles.

And honestly? I didn't want to stop. It was likely the last bit of happiness I'd be getting all week. After all, I had the most dreaded thing the next day.

A meeting.

-

Did not write this eating peach cobbler, unfortunately. I did write this instead of my school essay, so there's that. Take solace that I'm sacrificing my education for the entertainment of strangers on the internet.

Truly, we live in the strangest timeline.

P.s: I made up the whole Ferros thing. Sectors real, economic disaster isn't.

-Freefaller

 

[Orphiex]

Omake! Crossposting this from SB; a contribution to the Minda-2 uplift program, in two parts. Seemed to me that the Guild was already set up to take newbie workers and help them turn themselves into professional economic contributors, so why would Las or Darna go reinventing the wheel?

------

Omake: The Working Vern's Road to Space

Kor
Erylon, capital city of the Fulcrum Dynasty
Minda System, Minda-2

"Emm-pie-yerr…"

Kor wanted to go into space.

It had always been a dream of his. Ever since he'd been a boy, there had been nights where he looked up at the stars and dreamed of flying among them, free as the proverbial bird. For most people, the dream was about the flying, and they aimed towards becoming lufsk riders, or at least getting a lufsk rider to give them a lift so they could experience it once, but for Kor it had always been about the stars. Wondering about what marvels might be out there.

But of course, it had never been anything more than a daydream. Everyone knew that there was the ground down here, and the heavens up there, and the twixt would never become twain, and a man had to be practical if he wanted to eat. And so Kor had knuckled down, worked hard, and earned a decent wage for a decent day's work. He'd been saving up money, looking to find a girl worth marrying, and preparing to follow a solid and steady course into the future.

"Fuh-leet… kraz. Fff-leet. Fleet."

And then the Imperials had come. And, holy zoon, aliens! Real aliens! And real spaceships! And, you know, space! People could go to space! People could come back from space! Alive, even! You could go to space!

He could go to space! Him! Little ol' Kor could go to SPACE!!!

And sure, it was definitely kind of weird to think that their rulers weren't, you know, at the very tippy-top anymore, but meh. Kor hadn't been high nobility or anything, just lucky enough to live in the capital and earn a decent wage for a decent day's work, and from where he was sitting? Nothing much had changed on a day-to-day basis. The Imperials had built a few schools to teach the children their numbers, that alien "Basic" language and how to use their foreign tools, but the markets still had the same produce and tools and gewgaws at mostly the same prices, and the soldiers on the streets were still wearing Dynasty colors and not that Imperial black-and-white. The vern at the top might be chafing, but down here in the streets life went on.

"Guh-verr-norr."

Kor could have kept doing what he'd been doing. Kept living in the capital, kept earning a decent wage for a decent day's work.

But Kor wanted to go into space.

Kor wanted to go into space so bad.

Which was where the Guild came in.

"Hyy-perr-speiss."

See, there were basically three ways to get a ride on a spaceship right now: be rich and/or connected, sign up at one of those Imperial recruiting stations, or join up with some different outfit that had access to a spaceship. That sort of money was beyond Kor at the moment, and he was… leery about signing on for who knows how long with their new lords and masters. Especially since you'd have to go through a whole lot of training anyway, and who knew how much it'd pay.

But the Guild…

There'd been these flyers, see. Not that he'd been able to read them, him not being all lettered and such, but he'd taken one of them to Jevvo who he knew could read it, and Jevvo had read it to him, and then they'd both ran over to the Guild building and signed up, because that offer? It sounded pretty good.

"Imm-pee-ree-yull."

Do the studies. Five classes - that alien Basic language (including reading and writing! How about that), numbers and sums, how the Empire works, the basics of your chosen field (mining, trading or merc'ing), and one of those specializations in your field. And if you pass all your courses, you're in. You get a card, a bank account (him! Kor! With a bank account! How hoity-toity was that!), and a selection of starter gear depending on your track and specializations, and off you go to make your fortune.

And sure, you run up a debt in that bank account, which you gotta pay back or else. So what? Even if Kor hadn't really really wanted to go to space, it was pretty obvious that the aliens were here to stay. You don't throw up big fancy buildings like the Guild's city headquarters if you weren't settling in for the long haul. The literacy classes alone were worth going into debt for; a vern who could deal straight with aliens would have plenty of opportunities. Sometimes you had to take a risk.

The trick is to take smart risks, not dumb ones. He'd heard a couple of numbnuts muttering about selling their gear for the local gold after they graduated, and ducking out to some other town far away from the Guild where they'd live like princes.

"Juss-tiss."

More fools they. The Guild was training mercenaries. There'd be plenty of their classmates who'd be perfectly happy to take on a few debt collection jobs, especially if it cleared their own debts in the process. And if someone was fool enough to let their gear get stolen out from under them? This wasn't just gear, it wasn't even a ticket to a better life, it was the future of their world writ small, and Kor knew that they'd have to pry that kit from his cold dead hands. Because Kor had a plan.

Well, it wasn't just his plan. It was also Jevvo's, and Nark's, and Davyr's and… yeah, you get the idea, and the teachers had been very helpful when they'd gone and asked about it. 'Cause, one miner couldn't do a whole lot, even with the alien gear. Two miners couldn't do a whole lot. But ten? Twenty? So yeah, they were teaming up. Companying up? Whatever. A Cooperative. With some guys from each of the specialization tracks, so that they knew what's what and didn't find out at the dig site that there was something they needed and didn't have. And Jevvo was forming a starter Collective, to handle all the transporting and selling of the ore the Cooperative dug up, and Vemik over in the merc track was getting people together into a Conclave to run protection on the dig site and the caravan and everything. What do you call it when you've got all three of those "Co" words grouping together? Kor made a mental note to ask the Basic teacher later.

"K- Kh- Kraz it, that's enough for now."

They'd have to figure out how to handle profits and such, obviously; who gets paid what? How much risk for how much reward? Yadda yadda yadda. Because nobody knew. Sure, the trader track guys were probably getting trained special for that stuff, but who didn't know how to haggle and dicker? And those numbers courses were clearing up a lot of stuff that Kor had always sorta felt but not known known. But everyone agreed (or had been made to agree) that even with the Guild's records and precedents to work off of, trying to accurately settle up rates and splits when they were all know-nothing rookies was a recipe for a bad time.

Nah, the rule they'd worked out for the time being was simple: everyone eats well, and nobody gets paid in cash until all of the debt is settled. After that? Well, they'd have to work it out, but they'd be working it out with a whole lot more experience and training time and a proven record of having completed however many jobs. But you know what that wasn't? His problem! Not to say that he wouldn't fight to get the best deal he could, because his momma didn't raise no fool, but Kor's part in the plan didn't include sticking around forever, because those offworld Companies?

They were hiring.

"Okay, sums next! Now what's this one… 31 x 47 is…"

Kor had checked with the desk jockeys at the Guild, and there were a lot, a lot of companies looking to fill a hole or two in their ranks, but they all needed a minimum level of training and experience that no vern had yet. But they would. And when they did, the Companies would split a bit, some people staying here on Verndar to earn money and recruit from the next round of students, and some of them signing on with those alien groups to go out into the black and get experience! Obviously the end goal was to start buying spaceships and start working the big jobs, and Kor was all for that - he wanted his own ship so much he could taste it - but in the meantime, little ol' Kor would be travelling through space!

SPACE!

Spa~aaaaace~

------

A/N: At this lowest level, I think the triple-Co word we're looking for here is Combine.

Second entry is from the perspective of the top looking down, rather than the bottom looking up.

 

[Orphiex]

Second entry! This one fought me a bit as I got closer to the end, but I think I came up with a good way to close it off. We now see how the high and mighty are responding.

------

Omake: The Noble Vern's Path to Power

Grantier Zulkhies
Erylon, capital city of the Fulcrum Dynasty
Minda System, Minda-2

"So. How bad is it?"

Grantier Zulkhies, Minister of the Exchequer for the Fulcrum Dynasty, took a moment to school his features and steel his spine before addressing King Limarkos, his heir the Archduchess, and the assembled Ministers of the Privy Council. Not that the news was all bad - in fact, it was approaching good - but because the decisions made here would shape the Dynasty for centuries to come.

"The Imperial Quota - or Tax, or whatever they wish to call it - is substantial, but… the situation continues to change so rapidly that there is no one clear answer to that question. With your permission, Your Majesty, I would like to give a full overview of the current situation."

King Limarkos gave a brief nod; Grantier took this as permission to continue.

"First, I must emphasize that the Quota is levied upon all of Verndar collectively, not just the Dynasty. In theory, we could get away without contributing to the Quota at all; in practice, were every political entity on Verndar to do this, the Quota would go unpaid and resolution of the issue would fall to the Imperial Navy."

There was a minor flinch throughout the room. While only the Archduchess and her entourage had been present at the original meeting with the Governor, the tale of Mount Zuji's bombardment had made the rounds. Only the most foolish or delusional still thought that the ability of the Imperial Navy to destroy their nation was overstated. With that reminder setting the tone, Grantier forged forwards.

"Fortunately, the Imperials themselves are aware of this; furthermore, the Governor - or his staff - seem to understand that while the various nation-states of Verndar have wildly different levels of productivity, there is no way to apportion the Quota accurately among them. At least, not without some sort of planetary audit that would be far more trouble than it's worth. Which is why they've implemented a 'points' system."

Grantier reached out and tapped a button on the device before him, activating the slide projector that he'd negotiated for with one of the Imperial representatives. He wasn't fluid enough in Basic to use one of their PDAs (yet), but the concept behind the projector was easily grasped by anyone who'd ever seen shadow puppets. The first slide showed a table listing some of the nations of Verndar - with the Dynasty at the top, obviously - and numbers next to them.

"As groups contribute to the Quota, be they tribes or kingdoms, they earn points. Once the Quota is filled, the points can then be used to acquire resources, tools and other assets in addition to those available under the uplift program. Whoever contributes more, or contributes above the minimum threshold of the Quota, can get more, whether that be resources that would be difficult to acquire on the open market, or things like… priority. Deliveries ahead of other countries of Verndar."

There was a susurrus of whispers and shifting around the room. The idea of getting ahead of, say, those militant tossers in the Obsidian Wardenship? It was tempting. Seductive in a way that money alone couldn't quite match. Clearly the Governor knew how to play the incentives game, Grantier thought.

"This is complicated by several factors. Firstly, by just how many groups there are." Grantier flipped to the next slide, this one a much, much longer of all the polities on Verndar. Including all the pokey little jungle tribes, many of which nobody had known or cared about until the Empire dug them up and gave their ultimatum. "All of these groups are not only contributing to the Quota, but many of them are dealing with a… leadership reassignment at the same time as a fundamental worldview shift. And every one of them has at least one PDA with access to the Imperial communications network. Which means that they can talk to each other whenever, wherever, they want. The political ramifications of this… we may end up with a jungle tribes coalition like the Saveeri Alignment." Everyone winced again; the Verdant Horde's invasion centuries ago had broken the back of the Dhloaz Empire, and nobody wanted a repeat. "Or the tribes might dissolve entirely and end up being absorbed into the Volcanic Territories. We just don't know.

"But the second, and far more immediate complication, is the influence of the Imperial Guild of Industry, Commerce and Protection." Grantier flipped to the next slide, this one showing a breakdown of the Guild's basic structure. "For those unaware, the Guild organizes and certifies miners, merchants and mercenaries in the Governor's territory. This includes training and ready access to related equipment. As part of the uplift program, Governor Mola has licensed the Guild to train and educate adults, separately from the childrens' schools operated by the Imperial government."

Grantier flipped to the next slide, this one showing a picture of the Imperial enclave that had subsumed the western slums. The landing fields, transshipment warehouses and Guild complex sprawled across the former slumlands. Grantier knew the King was displeased about ceding any amount of capital land to the outlanders, but property values on that side of the city had definitely gone up.

Although he couldn't for the life of him understand why they'd bothered to throw up those boxy buildings for the rabble to inhabit. What possible worth could they get from housing those wastes of breath, and at their own expense?

"The Guild branch here in the capital - and, presumably, the branches in other countries - have established training and education courses, that are open to all and sundry on a 'first come, first served' basis. As long as someone is not obviously a criminal or a maniac, they can enroll." Advance the slides to a Guild flier printed in the Dynasty's language. "To summarize what this flyer says, if an attendee completes a course of study in their chosen field, including at least one 'specialization'-" Transition to the list of Guild Specializations. "-then the Guild will provide them with equipment relevant to their field and specialization, as a loan. To be repaid in Imperial Credits."

King Limarkos frowned. "These debts. Are they coercive?"

"Not that I can tell, Sire. Some items are more expensive than others, but assuming the prices I have compared are accurate, the Guild seems to be selling at cost, and demanding no interest. However, that the loans must be repaid in Credits means that the graduates must work for pay in credits. Credits paid into a bank account, set up for them by the Guild. And once they're being paid in Credits…"

The rustling this time had different undertones of discomfort. The Dynasty had banks, of course, they were a civilized nation, but… for the powerful. The wealthy. The influential. The idea of the unwashed masses having their own accounts… it rankled somehow, even to Grantier, though he couldn't exactly articulate why.

"This is why many of them promptly start accepting Guild-posted contracts and using Guild-provided services, rather than going to the houses and the mercantile companies for work. Even so, the sheer productivity enabled by Guild-provided tools and training… all of my bureau's economic projections are effectively useless for the foreseeable future."

Grantier switched to another slide, showing a table of the Guild's ranking system. Wonderful things, these graphing tools. "A Scout with a blaster and basic training could go up against a small pack of jungle syzoks and have even odds of victory, and that only escalates as they organize into Conclaves. A Prospector-Cooperative can locate, excavate and sell more ore than a conventional mining group ten times their size. And a Trader-Collective with a dozen hover-pallets can move more than a full caravan. In short, while meeting the Quota would be onerous under past conditions, productivity is only going to keep rising, and there's no telling where it will end."

"And yet, you speak as if this is a problem."

"The problem, Sire, is that the Dynasty's own organizations and institutions cannot keep up." Grantier gestured to the table behind him. "The noble houses, guilds and trading costers have been slow to catch on, but once the first wave of graduates came out of the Guild's programs, almost all of them commoners…" Grantier flipped to another chart. "There are very few independents. Most graduates have formed their own Companies under the Imperial Guild, combining their specializations and equipment to fill as many roles as possible. I suspect that the Guild encouraged and supported them in doing so. The remainder mostly signed on piecemeal with the aforementioned bodies, who soon realized just how badly disadvantaged they now were, and once they figured that out…

"There have been incidents. While the smarter entities are forging contracts with newly-emerging Companies, some of the more stubborn and entitled noble houses are attempting to forcibly break these 'commoner companies' up and compel them into their own service, through means both legal and… not. Others are trying to intimidate the Guild into restricting access to their training courses, or shutting them down altogether. It is going… poorly for them. Even if the Guild didn't have the ability to call in the Imperial military - which it very much does - it's a mercenary guild. Things have not yet escalated to the level of blasterfire, but I suspect that there will be a major incident in the near future if the Dynasty does not step in beforehand."

"So. They are sabotaging us."

Grantier resisted the urge to rub the back of his neck. "Not as such, Your Majesty. To be clear, this is not the product of malice, or even incompetence, but of indifference. Perhaps if I play this recording…?"

———

Three weeks ago

Grantier Zulkhies, Minister of the Exchequer for the Fulcrum Dynasty, towered over Guild Administrator Zavef by a head. Administrator Zavef was doing a remarkably good job, even across the divides of both culture and species, of being visibly unimpressed.

"The Imperial Guild's uplift charter for Verndar is very explicit in the duties and responsibilities of the Guild. The Guild, as per directives from Governor Mola, is to support and enhance the uplift program of Minda-2 by introducing new training and tools to the native inhabitants of the planet, thereby increasing the productivity of the planet, better enabling the local inhabitants to more efficiently meet their Quota duties, and preparing the citizenry for inclusion into the wider galactic economy. It is not the Guild's responsibility to prop up the local satrapy."

"Are you saying that you will do nothing to curtail these disruptive influences upon the Fulcrum Dynasty? That you care nothing for the effects that putting extraterrestrial weapons and equipment in the hands of the masses will cause!?"

"I am saying, Minister, that the Guild's initiatives are open to all citizens of Minda-2, including the agents and representatives of the Fulcrum Dynasty and its government. If the Dynasty does not wish to avail itself of those opportunities? That sounds like a you problem."

———

Grantier switched the recording off. King Limarkos's expression was dark, but Grantier had seen him blueing with thunderous rage, and this wasn't that.

Archduchess Limali slowly tapped the table with her manicured digits. "This seems strange to me. Governor Mola stated clearly at our first meeting that he had no desire to overly interfere with the politics of Verndar's nations."

Grantier nodded. "As I said, indifference. I have reviewed the recordings of said meeting that the Governor distributed to the attendees, and while Governor Mola expressed a desire to avoid overruling or forcibly dissolving existing governments, he said nothing about wanting to preserve them. What seems clear from the recordings, especially his… blasé acknowledgement that the Empire could have him executed and replaced for failure, is that in the Empire, one is expected to succeed or fail on their own merits. If the Dynasty cannot succeed?" He let the statement hang in the air for a moment. "Nothing here represents a breach of the uplift accords, while also fulfilling what we believe to be Governor Mola's current objectives."

"What objectives are those?" asked Minister for War Zoriasque, leaning forward.

"Based on the information Minister Delavin has received from our agents," he nodded at the Minister of Information, "Governor Mola's territory seems to be suffering from a severe lack of manpower and trained personnel. Some sort of extremely large project that is important to Governor Mola's superiors in the Empire. Low-skill workers across the region are undergoing similar training and taking on higher-paid work, causing knock-on effects across their supply chains.

"In short, the Guild is trying to train up a new workforce to replace those low-skill workers. Once our people have received enough training and accrued enough experience, my belief is that the various Companies on Minda-3 will start hiring them away to work for them off-world."

King Limarkos frowned. "They mean to entice our people away from the Dynasty? Well, that-" He stopped, a calculative look coming over his face. Grantier smiled internally; he'd known that his monarch would see the potential here.

"That… would allow us to slip our own people into the off-worlders' operations," Archduchess Limali slowly stated, her own features showing deep thought. "Agents who can acquire and funnel resources back into our hands. Materiel, information, even more of the Empire's credits."

"Thus allowing us to gain an understanding of what we truly face, independent from the Empire's obvious propaganda, and improve our own negotiating power at the same time," Limarkos mused. "Delavin, how feasible is this?"

Minister Delavin stood. "Frankly, Sire, we've already made first steps, slipping some of our intelligencers into the Guild's training sessions to see what we're up against. The Guild doesn't seem to do any sort of background checks or investigations, they just run basic tests of whether they're physically and mentally unimpaired before shoving them into classrooms. Of course, once they're in the Imperials' records - and the Imperials are inveterate record-keepers - things probably become more stringent. However, I have confidence in our agents' ability to be discreet. As for acquisitions… Minister Grantier?"

Grantier clicked through a few more slides, arriving at a price-list for products available through Guild-certified merchants. "While the terms of the uplift agreement are quite clear, and the lists of proscribed items and substances under Imperial law are explicitly defined… in practice, we are no more subject to trade restrictions or import tariffs than any other region in the Governor's territory. Anything that an offworlder alien can legally buy, we can legally buy. As long as we have the credits to pay for them, that is.

"Of course, any trade right now is hugely in the offworlders' favor; even if we assume that the figures and market prices available through the Guild are accurate, the offworlders have all the ships, and we are not a credit-using economy yet. The uplift agreements offer us a limited amount of funds, but only for circumscribed, uplift-appropriate uses. We need our own sources of credits before we can acquire market-available materiel without being held hostage to the whims of smugglers.

"And when it comes to skill development, there's a bottleneck. Part of the reason that the Guild refused to open further training for the noble houses is that their training programs are running at capacity; this labor shortage is affecting them as well. They're effectively 'booked up' for the next six months in all tracks, and they're unwilling to remove any existing bookings for anyone, even the Dynasty itself.

"However. Registering a Company through the Guild is… unneccessary; what matters is the ability to extract resources competitively. The courses, too, are not the obstacle they seem. While Guild accreditations are useful and valuable, the tests needed to acquire them can be taken without passing through the training available to the hoi-polloi. We are the Dynasty. We are not without our own means; if the current bottleneck is the availability of Guild trainers, we can afford to hire our own.

"Administrator Zavef can cling to her precious charter as much as she wants, but that same adherence means that if the Dynasty decides to recruit our own trainers through the Guild's employment network, she has no legal recourse to obstruct us from doing so. And recruitment of trainers is covered by the terms of the uplift program."

…which meant that the Dynasty government, as the only ones allowed to use those funds, could offer the credits that the other noble houses didn't have, Grantier didn't say. By securing control of the best non-Guild training methods, His Majesty could pick and choose which noble houses got access to those trainers, thus regaining some of the political capital lost by capitulating to the Empire. He knew that the King would pick up on it, and hoped that the Archduchess had seen it.

And of course, Grantier planned to capitalize.

Grantier had lied about nothing. The plethora of market shifts right now had indeed thrown all his old calculations out the window… but his ability to make new ones had only improved. Especially with these new PDAs; he was still working on learning Basic and officially couldn't make use of any of the provided ones, but the Guild had developed complete translation packages in order to train the riffraff. Grantier'd taken one provided as part of the uplift program and gotten it updated at the Guild to display the Dynasty's language, something that it seemed everyone else had forgotten to do (probably just lost in the bureaucratic shuffle), and he had been devouring the economic and mathematical modules. Market fluctuation, projective graphing, inflation and deflation predictors… and the spreadsheets. Ohh, the spreadsheets. What a difference those made to his calculations.

And those projections said… that the only reason the Dynasty still had a functioning economy was because the Empire was deliberately keeping its own companies out of Verndar. That and the lack of credits. A mid-range offworld mercantile concern could flood the local markets with more cheap metal ore in one day than all the mines of the noble houses could generate in a local year, crash the economy in a week, then buy up whatever they wanted for scraps.

He'd have to be careful and explain this over time - nobody in the room wanted to hear that mere merchants could threaten the nation - but the facts were the facts. The Dynasty was outmatched not only militarily, but economically. Uplift was the only chance the Dynasty had to be a player, not a pawn. Now he had to work the King and the Council around to thinking it was all their own idea, and this stage seemed to be going well so far.

And House Zulkhies? Grantier intended to make sure that when the dust settled, the House ended up with enough money and wealth to be kingmakers, not just functionaries. Not to say that he was disloyal, but his loyalties were to his nation more than his King. Jockeying for power was just how the Great Game was played. There'd never be a greater opportunity than this, not when he sat at the perfect confluence of knowledge, influence and connections.

Starting his own corporations, trading favors, manipulating the flow of uplift currency and resources to subtly expand his power base… nothing so gauche as embezzlement, he had his pride, but a vern in his position was almost expected to take advantage of having the inside line on the flow of money, within reason. He'd also figured out how to track the usage records of the PDAs, and nobody was taking advantage of their abilities anywhere near the degree that he was. Maybe they hadn't realized the sheer potential in them, or were being stubborn about not learning Basic; either way, Grantier wasn't planning to hand out hints anytime soon. There was so very much opportunity to be seized, and Grantier Zulkhies was perfectly positioned to do so.

Let the rabble play at building their Companies. Soon enough, Grantier would have control of them all, and then? Well, they used to say the sky's the limit, but not anymore.

———

A/N: Grantier is a smart and canny noble, because you don't get to control the Royal Treasury if you can't cut it, but his prejudices are definitely showing. He's going to do well for himself, but not nearly as well as he expects to: even if the Guild itself wasn't an anti-trust institution, really determined commonfolk with a little education and a leg up are far more capable than the mindless troglodytes he thinks of them as.

He's also misinterpreting Zavef; she's short with him because, like Las, she's got enough paperwork to deal with right now without getting any more involved in the native politics than she needs to, and strict adherence to the charter is her shield. If the local satraps are willing to take some of those uplift responsibilities off her hands? She might just kiss them, even if they are green and stupidly tall.

Building residences for the slum-dwellers might seem like overdoing it, but Las and Darna are smart enough to think in the long-term; it builds goodwill and advertises the benefits of collaboration with the Imperial machine. "Give me your tired, your poor, your hungry" and all that. Besides, they're really just row upon row of cheap pre-fabs; a close analogue would be China's rapid-built COVID quarantine centers. Cheap as chips, and worse than student housing, but to the slum-dwellers of a medieval city? Unimaginable luxury.

TBH, I'm not sure if I'm going to take this any further; I've kinda written what I want to write. Maybe inspiration will strike in the future, where I get an idea that fires me up to write about the effects on Verndari international politics or a bit of Zavef's perspective or how the jungle tribes are reacting, or something. I do actually have one idea for a third entry, so maybe.

 

[Yacov]

Omake: J-0 Tough Droid

Production Information

Manufacturer: Guild of Commerce, Production and Protection

Class: Labor Droid and Sentry Droid

Degree: class five droid

Cost: 2,800 credits new

——

Technical Information

Height: 1.75 meters

Sensor Color: Green

Plating Color: Cast Iron Black

Equipment:

• A Heavyweight EV shaped Head
• Binary comlink
• Reinforced Humanoid Torso
• Medium sized droid battery
• 2 medium loader droid arms with a Triple-Opposing Midweight Pincher
• Heavy-Lifting Weighted Legs

——

Description

"Cybot is making millions supplying the shipyards. Why don't we get in on the action?" - Recording of a Guild meeting before Project Tough was green lit.

The Guild J-0 Tough Droid is a cheap, but rugged class five droid. Initially produced by the Guild to take advantage of the deluge of orders for droids by the Mindan government for its shipyards. However, the Guild decided against trying to produce a more costly maintenance droid and compete with the procurement contracts of larger corporations. Rather, the Guild aimed to design a general purpose labor droid to play up local pride and low logistical costs to snatch up some of the smaller contracts.

Design

"Oh frak, I think that bot broke my nose. It won't stop bleeding."

"You got in a fight with something that had solid metal for arms. What did you expect?" - two former patrons of Figpa's Cantina after antagonizing the owner and their J-0.

The J-0 Tough Droid was designed to be cheap and competent muscle whether that be labor or melee. The J-0 was primarily made of cast iron, copper, bronze, aluminum, and small amounts of steel. While unable to stand up to blaster fire or arm wrestle a Wookie, those metal limbs can still bring most unarmed sentients to the ground.

A combination of a medium sized battery and low energy components allow the J-0 to operate to perform long hours of operation before needing to recharge. This allows a J-0 to work alongside organic workers for a whole shift in addition with helping with the opening up and closing down.

The J-0 reinforced head unit bares some visual similarities for the EV-series supervisor droid. However the J-0 lacks the sophisticated electronics and programming to have the same level of sophistication (or violently sadistic tendencies) as the MerenData financial disaster. This has not stopped some droids from turning around and heading the opposite way when they see a J-0 walking in their general direction.

Programming

"On it master, no need to say it twice. Unless you want me to critique your butchered pronunciation of Binary."- J-0 with its typical programming quirk back talking its master.

Like most Labor Droids, the J-0 is programmed to do a wide variety of manual labor needed at warehouses, construction sites, and industrial facilities. This programming is fairly advanced for a general labor droid. Suffering little in the way of coding errors or loss of productivity. The J-0 could preform the job of multiple lesser droids, which its designers hoped would make up for its increased cost.

The advanced programming was intended to allow the J-0 to operate as a coworker role alongside its organic compatriots rather than just another industrial machine. It also allowed for multiple J-0 units to work smoothly together when assigned to group tasks as long as the task is not too advanced.

In addition the J-0 was programmed to do double duty as a Sentry Droid. Unimpressive close quarters combat protocols were added to the J-0's programming to ensure it could defend itself if the intruder was not willing to leave voluntarily. When the J-0 engages its self defense protocols, it favors using its Pinchers and strength to grapple and throw its opponent out of the premises, or use its metal arms as improvised clubs to batter them until they submit or leave the designated area.

These skills along with its durable casing allowed the J-0 to deal with most unskilled and poorly armed threats such as pest animals or drunk sentients. Enabling the droid to perform low level patrol duties with some programming tweaks like being a bouncer at a cantina or patrolling a warehouse or small factory after hours. Plenty of owners will set their J-0's to patrol their facilities at night after a quick recharge once their day's work shift is done.

The J-0 notably does not contain any programming for using blasters. This was done in order to keep the J-0's class five designation and avoid being labeled a battle droid. Attempts to add ranged capability or even general weapon use to a J-0's programming have achieved lackluster results even compared to a B1.

The J-0's more sophisticated programming did lead to some quirks without regular memory wipes. The J-0s tended to develop a gruff and irritable personality. This tendency seems to be embedded deep into the J-0's code which made it too costly to remove, much to the frustration of its designers.

However the droid will still follow its owner, even if it will grumble at every opportunity. This surprisingly results in smoother integration alongside organic workers due to a sense of empathy at the droid complaining about "management". Most owners of a J-0 see this as an acceptable drawback to having a more competent mechanical worker that can earn the trust of their organic workers.

Another notable quirk that occurred over time is the J-0's propensity for being dramatic when engaging its self defense protocols. This manifested in the older J-0s playing certain kinds of recorded music whenever they engaged a threat based on what tasks they were assigned.

J-0s assigned to more confrontational duties like being a bouncer would blare high energy music from action holofilms. While J-0s doing late night sentry duty at a warehouse may start playing music from horror holofilms when they spot a trespasser. This has done little to assure naysayers that claim J-0 has some EV programming in it.

——

Figured I would try my hand at designing a droid. With how industrialized the Minda system is getting it would probably only be a matter of time. Props to the old and antiquated 1998 Star Wars: Droidworks game for the droid parts and metals.

Crossposted on SB and SV

 

[Freefaller]

Chp-77

The Guild meeting hall was the same as always. Covered in precious metals, taller than it had any need to be, and chock full of paintings and carved murals that were probably worth more than most penthouse apartments.

On Minda that is. A penthouse somewhere like Coruscant is the same as some planet's GDP.

Regardless, I took my seat at the large circular table, connecting my PDA to the terminal before me. I had a lot of graphs to show today, after all.

Slowly but surely, the remaining members filed into the building. A total of around 60 Governors of various worlds across the sector, totalling around a 3rd of all the systems in the sector. Well, inhabited systems, that is. There were at least a thousand more discovered but uninhabited systems.

Once everyone was seated, and the light chatting finished, we all turned to the woman on my left.

Not Ife, who wasn't there, but instead the Governess Trialdi of the Trialdi system. She shared a name with the system because her family were the ones to spearhead colonization a few years before the Clone Wars. It was a medium sized system with decent industry and population, nothing really to write home about. She

We were looking at her because she was next to be the Guild speaker. After the first meeting, where we were all just talking, it was decided that each meeting should have a speaker, who would organize the meeting and keep everyone on topic. Since I acted in that manner last time, since I started the Guild, I was out for the next meeting.
I would've preferred to just have one, but then everyone would want to be the speaker, so we have to pass the torch around like little kids.

Since everyone had an assigned seat, it was simply decided that the position would move counter-clockwise.

Standing, Governess Trialdi spoke in a firm tone, the kind that one might expect from a mother quietly demanding obedience. Which fit well, considering she looked to be in her 60s.

"This emergency session has been called in order to address recent problems in the shipping markets due to Rebel activity throughout the Mid-Rim. Security companies have been raising premiums across the galaxy as shipping becomes more dangerous, and it has begun to impact trade with outside sectors."

With that, she sat back down.

After she finished speaking, a few around the table pressed buttons on their terminals. With a look at her own terminal to determine who pressed it first, Governess Trialdi spoke once more.

"The Chamber recognizes Governor Daal of the Rodu system."

"These prices have become too much for my system to bear. Gas mining is already hard enough to get going with such a small population, but now I have to deal with outrageous price increases? Already I have corporations breathing down my neck for exploitative exclusive contracts!"

Others murmur in agreement. A common problem for many poorer systems. Rich in resources, but lacking the population to exploit them, corporations roll in, getting exclusive contracts and bringing in outside labor, doing nothing for the local population and stalling the Governors political abilities, meaning no rising the ranks.

Another beep. "The Chamber recognizes Governess Jero of the Zereth system."

"That's not the only problem. With these price increases, jobs are being cut to save money. I've got an increase in poverty rates system wide, and its causing problems everywhere else."

This also got agreement from many richer worlds. Most richer worlds had growing poverty problems as wealth inequality grew. Regardless of their desire to fix said problems, the fact was that no one wanted slums or the homeless wandering about.

It seemed to me that the answer was fairly obvious, if somewhat complex in the details.

"The Council recognizes Governor Mola of the Minda and Edin systems."

All eyes turned to me, but I remained unfazed. I had long since conquered my fear of public speaking and general speachifying. My secret?

I just imagine them naked! Works every time.

My eyes roam the table, passing over a particularly elderly Governor.

I shudder, my mind doing a full stop for a second. Better speachify fast as fuck.

"It seems to me you both have the solutions to each other's problems. One has too many people, the other not enough. While there might be some complications in creating proper training programs and building housing, it seems to me that those with larger homeless or poor populations could simply offload them onto those systems without the population to properly expand. Obviously, the efforts would need to be staggered and properly planned to avoid complications, but it could work."

A beep. "The Chamber recognizes Governor Vale of the Dorrin system."
"How would such an initiative be funded, then? You cannot truly expect those of us who have no such problems to pay for something like this?"

Beep. "The Chamber recognizes Governess Theen of the Larnak system."

"Well you wouldn't have too. Those of use who participate could contribute to a separate fund, overseen by a dedicated committee. Sure, systems like my own wouldn't be able to match the funds of richer systems, but we could offer preferable contracts, or pay the difference in funding back later once our economies are stronger. At the end of the day, we're just solving each other's problems."

This discussion went on for another hour, with person after person speaking up on problems with the idea, solutions, and everything in between. There was a surprising lack of politicking though, as I would've expected. Sure, this was an economic alliance, and everyone benefitted from the whole system working well, so there was less incentive to screw each other over.

But to see an entire hour worth of actual, proper debate over a topic? Without a single insult thrown around?

If the Republic's Senate had been half as behaved, the Clone Wars never would've happened.

Eventually, however, someone did hit on the crux of the matter.

"Regardless of bolstering each other's economies, the fact remains that security premiums are at the highest they've been since the Clone Wars. This means merchants and corporations, especially those from in or past the Mid-Rim, are unwilling to trade with us unless they get very preferential deals. The kinds of deals that would bankrupt half the sector, and leave the other half a damn sight closer to the poverty line."

Beep. "The Chamber recognizes Governor Mola of the Minda and Edin systems."

"In regards to the rising premiums, I have already begun to make deals with security companies to mitigate this, and I'd like to extend my idea to the rest of this esteemed Chamber. By digging past propaganda and fearmongering, I was able to look at the hard data of the rebellion's offensive. While they have started off strong, and have yet to seemingly lose steam, the fact remains that they cannot hold up against the Empire. They lack the military industrial complex to compete against the Imperial Navy or Army."

With a few taps on my terminal, the holo projector in the center of the table lights up, showcasing graphs and reports of confirmed rebel ship counts, the downward trend of the frequency of rebel attacks and more.

"Soon, likely within the next 5 to 6 months, they will find themselves overstretched. They are a guerilla group pretending to be a conventional army and it will backfire on them. So, I have entered into risk-guaranteed contracts with multiple security firms, where they will lower their rates to normal for the duration of 10 months. If the average rates on premiums do not drop for other similar companies across the galaxy, then once the time is up I will pay them the lost potential revenue."

Beep. "The Chamber recognizes Governor Murr of the Revik system."

"That sounds mighty expensive there, Governor Mola. With this new population transfer initiative, funds will be tighter for many. If this gamble fails, many systems might be left in some serious debt."

He phrased it like he was concerned for poorer worlds, but that was bullshit. The Revik system was fairly wealthy, likely because it was a smugglers haven. He only got into the Guild because the smugglers coming from there don't carry the real bad stuff. That and the Revik system does have a vibrant entertainment economy.

No, what he was really asking was 'why should I risk my credits for others.' Which is fair enough. So I decided to answer directly.

"There are many concerns with such a project, so I'll address them now. The first is how poorer worlds would pay for such a project. The answer would be a tiered system, where high income worlds pay 50%, middle income pay 30%, and low income pay the remaining 20%, all as collateral, though resource rights can be put up as well.. Now, please let me finish. In exchange, the upper income systems would gain first pick for preferential trade of resources coming from lower income worlds. For middle income systems, they would gain outposts made by the security companies themselves to facilitate secure trade. Lower income systems would gain protection from bankruptcy and the chance to grow richer and more powerful."

Once I finished, I looked across the room before adding in a small ending. "If anyone has any additions or improvements, please feel free. The better this idea is made, the better for everyone."

That was what really opened the flood gates. Over the next two and a half hours, everyone, and I mean, everyone discussed the proposal. A few other ideas were tossed up there, but lacked either the equitability or potential benefits of my own idea.

The biggest hangup people really had was the risk. Of course, I was more than happy to share all my sources, which were meticulously gathered from the most reliable sources I could find on the subjects. Of course, considering this is the Empire, reliable isn't the best word to use, but they were all I could get my hands on.

In the end, my idea was accepted. Another meeting was scheduled for the next day to hash out pricing, trade routes and all the other details more thoroughly.

It was, all in all, a good meeting.

Which was becoming rarer and rarer for me.

Not a good sign.

-

Yo.

Made this while eating homemade sugar cookies. Used bread flour instead of all purpose. Makes em chewier, but it aint bad. Think I messed up the butter portion, cause its coming on a little too strong.

Been playing WuWa. Pulled Galbrena on my 4th ten pull, but my Echoes are shit so her DPS is pretty low. Still good tho.

Also got BF6. Medic gameplay. Popping smoke and sliding into a revive makes me feel like a hero. Almost enough to ignore the fact that I get killed like 5 seconds later every time anyways.

-Freefaller

 

[Yacov]

Omake: The Drought of Black Arms

POV: Skrugg, Feeorin Private Independent Reaving Acquisition Trade Entrepreneur, Quxitol, 345-R-09 System, Myto Sector, 2ABY.

Skrugg forced open the rusty and steaming door to the reinforced shipping container leading to the entrance. Glad to leave the heavy, fetid rain of one of Quxitol's many slitstroms behind him. No one on this world trusted duracrete after the Great Driprot Collapse of 3BBY.

Skrugg took a deep breath of semi-clean air of the passage like it was a rare perfume. Said passage was laden with scrubbers and fresheners in a futile effort to try to keep the planet's stench from taking root permanently. The Feeorin stomped his way down the familiar stairs. Taking care not to hit that broken eighth step. Flory is probably kept it that way as a security measure, or to haze new customers.

"Flory! I know you're here you feathered lump! Where are ya?"

A squawk signified that the Kilmaulsi had heard him. What followed was a few thuds and only a single clang this time before the door finally opened. The arms dealer scrambled out of a small clean room and gave a hasty wave.

"Peace, peace dear customer! I have heard you. Flory will assist however she is able!"

One would never think this hot mess could be an arms dealer. Yet Flory knew weapons and where it was easy to get them. Also anyone who thought she was an easy mark found out rather quickly why her species were a warrior people.

"Well I am looking to replace my DC-15. It was unfortunately lost when one of my ex-heist mates thought it would be a good idea to take a Dazouri hostage."

That rage form was not fun to survive against. Whole job wound up worse than a bust when that hostage turned into a homicidal giant. Knocked Skrugg's blaster clean out the window by using the idiot as an improvised club. Can't be a flareboy without a blaster, and for some reason they weren't lying around everywhere like they used to, so here he was.

"Yes, yes dear customer! Come look at Flory's meager wares! Be warned they may be more meager than in prosperous times."

Ain't that the truth. Seemed like every day the racks were getting barer and barer for arms dealers. This was the third store Skrugg had visited since the last two thought he was desperate enough to try and pawn an air pistol off on him. Sadly it appears Flory had more of the same.

"Sporting blasters, a striker projectile pistol, 6-2Aug2 hunting rifles!? What is with this selection? The Flory I know wouldn't be caught dead hawking Czerka dung! What happened to the bird that could get a 773 Firepuncher sniper rifle, no questions asked?"

Skrugg might have been laying it on a bit thick, but frak it he was determined to get to the bottom of this. He had spent hours trekking through the sludge filled roads as this bog planet tried to ensnare and dissolve him, only to find the same bare shelves. If anyone knew where all the guns went, it was avian that once rolled out a dozen T-21 light repeaters like it was no big deal.

"Flory does not know what to tell you dear customer. Blasters have been harder to get all over the planet. The parts for blasters have also been scarce. It is truly worrying."

The grim expression on Flory's face was certainly warranted. The bags under her eyes looking more crimson than orange. Quxitol lived and died by its illegal arms trade. The horrid constant rains and sinking swamps had doomed the initial botanical expedition's efforts. Consigned to a slow and muck coated death after the funding ran dry and the workers began a series of riots due to the miserable working environment.

"That must be lighting a fire under the Botanical Committee's rear. Aren't their "new sponsors" supposed to make sure things like this don't happen?"

The only way the scientific operation survived and continued to quash rebelling workers was by allowing smugglers access to their camps and high tech clean rooms to store contraband. Having access to the only large scale clean storage on the planet and dictating who could build more allowed the "shipping companies" to control the entire flow of product. Any who disagreed was left stripped and bound to dissolve alive over days in the bogs.

Quxitol evaded suspicion from nosy inspectors by intentionally slow rolling the flimsiwork to put the system on official maps. Most would just chalk it up to trying to keep academic competitors out. Nothing could be happening in an "uninhabited" system that did not even have a proper name after all.

The expedition's leaders were more than willing to go along with the scheme. Most had invested far too much personal funding and prestige into this expedition to let it fail. They were willing to do anything to avoid the undertaking (and their careers) being swallowed by the festering acidic bogs of Quxitol like a dozen workers in a malfunctioning speeder.

"Even the shipping companies aren't pulling through like they used to dear customer. It is making those in charge paranoid and start pointing fingers. Quxitol's leaders are worrying they found a more profitable route for their shipments."

These days Quxitol's desperately needed imports are handled by undisclosed shipping companies and the exported plants are a bit heavier than they should be. Shipments of supplies and contracted fresh meat in exchange for discretion and being the official face for Quxitiol. The arrangement had been going well for years until it suddenly didn't.

If the shipping companies found another route, then Quxitol would have no one to turn to. The board of sponsors who initially ordered the endeavor were ready to reap the prestige of the expedition's reports. However they would likely be uncaring if it failed given they had already cut the expedition's funding.

"If the companies found a new route, it isn't through Edin like the old days. Place has become a battleground since the Imperials decided to clamp down on the system. Might be opportunity for profitable ventures there, but shipping blasters isn't one of them. Too much of a risk of getting caught.

Been that way across the sector unfortunately. Came back to Quxitol hoping the anonymity would yield fuller shelves. Blasters offworld are all locked behind official doors or reserved for "loyal customers". It's like all the guns require you to join a syndicate or go clean. Any idea what is causing it?"

Cantina tales painted a bleak picture for the independent criminal without major connections. Used to be you had to struggle to get all your weapons through lax Imperial checkpoints from the lack of storage. Now you had to struggle to even have a weapon to squeeze through at all.

Seemed like everyone from the Imperials to street gangs had taken to hoarding what firepower they had, while buying or killing over what they could get away with. Skrugg swore he saw a crew of low level enforcers patrolling with energy slingshots, like they were a gang of urchins!

"Myto was never a big sector dear customer. There have been brief periods of shortages when it comes to certain items. Usually when a specific corporation or syndicate changed routes or shut down a local office. Eventually bouncing back when a smuggler or corpo found the profit again.

However this one seems to be especially hard. Broader in scope than just a single company or trade route getting hit. Once reliable channels are either drying up or being outright strangled. Best guess is the Guild and the War."

Skrugg winced at the mention of the local underworld's least favorite newcomer. The Guild didn't play by the normal rules. Shipments that got seized stayed gone rather than coming back with a markup. Add in the fact the Guild was feeding from the same trough as them when it came to supply, only with a much larger appetite. He could see the issue.

"I get the Guild, but why the War? Shouldn't war be good for the blaster business? Now even a good A280 blaster rifle is getting hard to find."

War should've meant blaster companies turning on the tap. All those guns flooding the market should have trickled down to dealers like Flory. Corpos could not resist having a bit of a stockpile for "special sales" to pump up their quarterly earnings.

Sure the militaries would still get first dibs, but that had its own advantages. Those stores tended to leave their doors unlocked when the quartermasters needed some funds. Yet it is like the PDFs in this sector decided to go crazy and suddenly got stingy with their stockpiles instead of their budgets.

"War does bring more blasters dear customer, but only where the war is or is expected to be. Myto is far enough from the frontlines that it tends to be low priority for weapons shipments. What guns do come in are too coveted by Imperial formations and the Guild to make a sizable play for. Even the decades old Dubrillion stockpile is being guarded like a vault full of beskar.

As for the A280s? Flory's contacts say there have been signs of Tardimen skulking through the sector disguised as honest traders for their masters. Bleeding their hearts all over their funny money to bleed the wallets of anyone able to be duped into taking it. Those rifles are probably speeding off towards the Offensive before the sellers realize the money they were paid with is barely more accepted in this sector than counterfeit."

Skrugg slumped his shoulders in defeat. Last job didn't pay out so he couldn't other dealers' higher rates even with his savings. Looks like getting a decent replacement was going to take a while. Flory noticed his fouled mood and attempted to do what any merchant would do.

"Perhaps Flory may be of assistance if you are so troubled dear customer. With blaster parts becoming ever more rare, Flory has contacted some of her… more adaptable associates to look for alternatives."

It was easy to tell from the selection that Flory was capitalizing on the current crisis. What she was offering looked more fitting in tribal warfare than a criminal hideout. However Skrugg didn't have many options at the moment with his old blaster gone. Who knows, maybe he could turn it to his advantage.

"Fine! Give me the auto-caster. The thing's archaic, but modern ones can still punch through weak armor."

Who knows, maybe Skrugg could turn it to his advantage. If his weapon is going to be primitive, might as well play into it. Paint some random symbols to make his hoots and hollers more intimidating to make up for his new weapon's lower ammo count.

Perhaps he would even gather his fellow flareboys and form an entire gang around the theme. Gangs with gimmicks tend to gain more respect. Skrugg's Quarrelers! Nah, sounds like a bad cantina act. Skrugg's Thugs! No, too generic. Eh, he will work on it.

——

"The Drought of Black Arms hit the Myto criminal underground hard in the early ABYs. Every thug, gangster, and smuggler was desperately scrambling for whatever firepower they could get their hands on. Anything to get an edge over their rivals and have a chance of surviving a confrontation with the authorities.

The dearth of blasters along with parts and materials for firearms in general prompting many criminals to change their tactics. They began to look to alternative weapons using lower quality or non-standard parts left on the shelves. Things got so bad projectile weapons like energy slingshots, auto-casters, and energy bows saw a resurgence in popularity even among the more lethal criminal professions on unimportant worlds.

The Drought also led to an increase in the prominence of melee weaponry in criminal operations. The common thug always had a knife or some improvised club like a pipe as a back up, but during this period more time and resources were being spent towards acquiring better melee weaponry. As the Drought continued with no visible end in sight, exotic and specialized weapons such as shock whips, jury rigged fire blades, and even the rare Chestrashi void spear began showing up more commonly in gang warfare. Although ownership of the latter was still considered a Class One Offense and would see the owner likely labeled a war criminal by the authorities.

This focus on more "primitive" weapons contributed to the formation of so classed Tribal Gangs: gangs which intentionally played up their savage nature and physical prowess to intimidate others. Ironically this new form of criminal generally enjoyed better health and standard of living than most other criminals. This is due to them focusing on healthy eating habits, exercising for physical contests as leisure, and rejecting more "civilized" vices for the sake of maintaining their image. - Skrugg, author of sector award winning book: Criminal Life Through the Drought, written in 4ABY during his incarceration following his arrest.

——

Through a strange convergence of market forces, I think the Myto Sector may soon face a temporary shortage of blasters available to the independent buyer. Running out of guns feels weird for such a gun inundated setting like Star Wars. Not enough to stop criminal violence in the sector, but maybe enough that the criminals start adapting to the new circumstance. This is mainly due to lots of fresh demand and dwindling local supply.

Demand wise legitimate buy orders for blasters in the Myto sector are hitting orbit compared to the BBYs. The Mindan Shipyards represent a new and very insistent buyer of military blasters due to needing hundreds or thousands of guns to stock the armories per warship they make. The rapidly expanding Guild is descending upon the secondhand and non-military market like locusts buying up every weapon they can. Even the PDFs and Imperial garrisons are probably wanting to maintain or expand their stockpiles due to the uptick in external pirate threats.

Supply wise things are in the opposite direction. The Myto sector was never that well populated back in the BBYs, so domestic production and stockpiles were never going to be large. Even the Clone Wars reserves have their limits. Properly disciplined and coordinated Hyperlane patrols means the blasters seized from pirates and smugglers aren't winding up back on the black market and the illegal channels are being strangled. Then there is the Galactic Civil War heating up in other parts of the galaxy, which means both legal and illegal guns are most likely being exported rather than imported into the sector draining the sector's supply even more. Also having the effect of discouraging imports of guns into the sector due to the risk of said shipments be pirated or requisitioned.

Crossposted on SB and SV

 

[Freefaller]

Chp-78
After an exhausting, if productive few days on Dubrillion, I headed back home to Minda.

Only to get a call as soon as my ship entered the system. Seeing that it was Representative Kabbas from the Shipyard Workers Assembly, informally the Union, I answered quickly.

It was always a good idea to keep on the good side of your workers, after all, and being seen as proactive in the relationship is conducive to that.

After a short delay, the audio channel was established.

"Good day, Representative."

"And to you as well, Governor. I was just calling to tell you that my connections came through."

Connections? What was he talking about? It's been a little over a week since we met, but I can't really remember any connections.

While I ponder this, Kabbas continues.

"Currently, I was able to get three medium sized construction companies interested in Minda through my contacts. They can contact your people within the hour to start negotiations."

For a second, I sat there flabbergasted. Construction companies? Connections?? Then I remembered that offhand comment I made about wishing there were more construction companies I could contract to expand the population.

Composing myself, I replied quickly. "Thank you, Representative. Please send their contact details to the head of the Office of Planetary Contracts and Acquisitions, please. She'll handle the rest."

The department head was, of course, Oioro. After her stellar performance fleecing KDY, I put her in charge of negotiating just about every contract private entities made with Minda. Darna had her own people over on Edin.

Spy she may be, but I know for sure she'll get Minda the best deal, and somehow make them come back for more.

After some pleasantries, the Representative left the call, citing management duties.

Just as he left, I got a report on my PDA about rising immigration in the system. Nothing unusual, and we usually end up turning many away due to housing concerns, but there's been a recent uptick in accepted immigrant families.

Almost all are…Sullustan. Not a whole lot of them, but of the recently accepted families, nearly 60% were Sullustan.

Strange…but nothing of concern. If they got accepted, it's because they have valuable skills, so there shouldn't be any problems.

Checking my itinerary, I saw something I've been dreading for a while.

A party. A high society party. My presence having been promised by, of course, Dornun Mola.

If not for the notes that told me that this would be a great opportunity to make connections with some industrial magnates, I wouldn't bother, but I want those factories. The more self reliant Minda is, the better.

-

A shower, change of dress and a few hours later I found myself in a highrise apartment in Accordia.

Out the window I could see the rest of the gleaming city, from the sharp spire of the Imperial Tower to the blocky megabuildings that stood in stark, brutalist contrast to the softer tones of Alderaanian architecture and the open-air Nabooan domes.

The Midnight Accord, the river that ran through Accordia, shone like the night sky as it always did at this hour. Simultaneously the night sky proper was lit up, the galaxy shining back.

In most cities, this effect wouldn't be possible. Too much light pollution.

But, if I must be frank, this view is one that I couldn't live without. To look out my window and see the gleam of the galaxy above lets me dream of freedom. So, I made a concerted effort towards reducing light pollution as much as possible.

Streetlights and such had to have cut-offs, so the light they emanated only shone downwards. Buildings weren't allowed to have upward shining lights, with the only ones permitted being the aviation obstruction lights meant to warn incoming ships of skyscrapers.

Near the river, there was a legal requirement for shadow barriers, that is to say that lights could not shine on the river from the banks.

All of these requirements made construction a tad more difficult, but in the end I think it was worth it. Some people had started visiting Accordia on vacation because of it.

And the mish-mash of cultures as well. The fusion food here is insane.

Turning back from the window, I looked inwards towards the party.

Illuminated by softer candlelit tones, the entire place was draped in excess. Luxurious fabrics hung as loose curtains, the floor was covered in expensive rugs and carpets.

And where there wasn't a rug or carpet, there shone an exorbitant hardwood floor polished to a mirror-like sheen. Every table was made by some famous designer, every piece of furniture worth more than quadruple my salary.

The sofas are reclined, like those stereotypical therapist office couches. The tables are pedestals with round, flat surfaces, all carved from the same piece of white marble, with spiderwebs of obsidian black crisscrossing the surface.

Kind of like my mugs, just with different colors. Very cool detail.

Regardless of the, admittedly, very cool neo-greco/roman aesthetic they had going on, the place was fairly packed.

Not shoulder to shoulder packed, but enough that a dozen or so conversational groups had popped up.

As my eyes scan the room, I take another bite of the cake from the plate I'm holding. It's quite good.

Dornun can be seen chatting up the host and a few others by the outdoor fountain, in the outdoor, rooftop garden. On a skyscraper penthouse.

Rich people are wild man.

Regardless, I steel myself as a group approaches me, which I wasn't happy about.

I had already spoken with the industrial magnates I wanted to, making political friends and such, subtly implanting the idea of Mindan contracts by mentioning the shipyard's problems. After all, the shipyard just desperately needs ship parts. And if one or two of you started manufacturing them?

Well, there might be a solid set of deals waiting for you. Of course, the shipyard isn't in such a bad spot that it is actually desperate, but the more they think that, the more likely they are to retool their factories.

Still, I had accomplished my goals for the night, and now even more people want to talk to me!?

"Ah, good evening Governor! Quite the view, yes?"

The first to speak was a boisterous man with an excess of, let's say, belt length. His mustache was also quite long, curling up into an almost cartoonish handlebar.

"Ah, Mr. Dragnati, how nice to meet you" I responded, already knowing him. While not someone I came here to meet, he was on the dossier Dornun had given me. Chairman of a fairly sized agricultural concern, with stocks in various other enterprises across the neighboring Clacis sector.

A sector I was interested in due to Gwori Revolutionary Industries, an old CIS Munificent manufacturer. The potential there for shipyard expansion was quite nice, if I was able to sweep in as they collapsed, as I could foresee them doing in a few years.

"Yes, it's quite nice to meet you too, my good man! Please, let me introduce my pride and joy, Gloriana Dragnati!"

My gaze locks onto the aforementioned pride and joy while digging up information from the dossier. Gloriana Dragnati was a young woman a few years my senior, around 4 or so, sporting her fathers tanned skin, if just a shade darker from her mothers side. With long, curling, practically neon red hair, it provided quite the contrast.

Regardless of her choice of hair dye, the dossier had more interesting things to say about her, though her father beat my mind to recollect the information.

"She's an incredible negotiator! Why, just in the past month she's snagged the company quite a few small scale contracts with ease! Given time, she will take my place and lead the concern towards bright, profitable futures."

Ah, I see. He's talking her up quite a lot. Combined with the shy looks she's giving me, I can assume he wants to set me up with her. Not happening. But her skills are of interest.

"Negotiating, yes?" I turned to her. "Ms. Dragnati, pray tell, where did you receive your education?"

She looked a little surprised that I was addressing her directly but responded nonetheless.

"I studied Business at Coronet University, and Law at the Coruscant College of Law."

It takes every muscle in my body practically seizing up to stop my eyes from widening comically. Coronet University, in Coronet City, on Corellia!? And then a second degree at the Coruscant College of Law!?

Holy shit, how did they afford that? How did she get in? I've got to ask Myr'thos what kind of Sith fucking alchemy they used because that sounds so absolutely fucking impossible its not even funny.

Regaining my composure, and ignoring whatever bullshit her father was talking about, some dinner plans or whatever, I focused entirely on her.

"Miss, how would you like a job?"

"...Huh?"

-

I got home that night a very happy man. Negotiations with Ms Dragnati had gone splendidly.

It turns out, she got into both universities through scholarships, her fathers money and influence (of which he had very little in the Core) and sheer academic brilliance.

Just under the makeup that she smeared off wiping her eyes, I remember spotting some very, very deep bags, indicative of an incredibly hard working person.

Someone with those degrees from those universities? An absolute shoe-in for Oioros department.

Aside from all that politicking, not much got truly done. I mean, sure, I got some ideas for a revision of employment laws on Minda, but that will take a while to set up and stress test, so its not a prominent concern.

Instead, I start taking a look at the reports coming out of Verndar. Apparently there was an increasing amount of suspected political assassinations. I suppose a lot of those countries really hate each other, cause even with Imperial ships in orbit they're still finding ways to kill each other.

I respect it, honestly.

Regardless, as much as I'd like to just wipe some government away to make an example, that would be bad for PR, and would cause increased distrust amongst the Verndari populace.

Their pride as a species has already been hurt badly by the very nature of having been conquered. I'm not going to hurt it more by coming in there and messing with all of their stuff or systems, and certainly not by killing a shit ton of their people to 'send a message'.

Instead, I'll just have an investigative team dispatched to ensure things get smoothed over.

As I was about to do so, a message appeared on my terminal. A priority request for audience.

From Thorne. At nearly midnight.

I sigh, already imagining the headache.

-

Made buttered noodles. Fucked it up somehow. Used actual unsalted cooking butter instead of the fake butter.

Also been listening to the Tron: Ares soundtrack. I hear the movie is mid (Jared Leto curse) but, as always, Tron cooks with the music.

Nine Inch Nails fucking nailed it (pun intended), especially with As Alive As You Need Me To Be. Absolute fucking banger.

-Freefaller

 

[Freefaller]

temp Image Lt Pi Yn — Postimages

postimg.cc

Here's a mock up, rushed city map because the nerds over on SB wanted one.

 

[Yacov]

The note at the end got a bit away from me on this one. So I spoilered it. Click it at your own risk.

Omake: The Defenseless Declarations Defended

POV: (Petty) Adit Lord Oltal of the Tibalt Dictate, Verndar, Post-Endor

Adit Lord Oltal stared at the message smuggled to him and he adjusted his PUT. The reporter on the holo recording was beaming with delight. He had of course mainly relied on the Moff's office for news about the galaxy, but having this channel to get news from the other side is essential to avoid being too reliant on a single news source.

"Sentients of the galaxy! The Alliance to Restore the Republic is pleased to announce the Emperor is dead and his Empire continues to crumble! The Empire's fall is at hand!"

Adit had already heard it from the Moff's office. The Moff had been organizing relief efforts across the sector in response to the chaos brought about by the event. Things had gotten so bad the Vendari were petitioned to provide sentientarian aid to worlds and stations who were suffering supply shortages and breakdowns in law and order.

However to hear exclaimed so joyfully was disturbing. The fall of a leader, no matter how tyrannical or hated, always led to confusion and disruption for those in their territory. Just how much hatred had this announcer harbor towards the Empire?

"To facilitate the Empire's destruction, the Alliance to Restore the Republic, now christened the New Republic, has announced a key piece of legislation: The Defense Declarations!"

Well at least this new state is off to a good start. This is probably going to cause fighting to intensify by unifying the various Rebel forces, but Oltal prefers a single unified enemy than trying to sort through a menagerie of smaller separate forces. They might be on opposite sides, but at least the increased military will help consolidate Republic territory and prevent suffering in the wake of the Empire's retreat.

"First, the New Republic will reject the rampant and wasteful militarization and centralization of the Empire! In contrast to the choking grip of the Empire, the New Republic will commit to reducing of the size of its state military in the near future!"

"What?"

That's… that's moronic! How do they intend to secure their territory and establish logistical networks without increasing their central military? Do they expect the galaxy to roll over after they killed its leader?

"This will be accomplished by returning the various PDFs and sector militaries to their rightful owners, the people! Even granting the right to increase their forces beyond Old Republic mandated limits!"

Ooooh so that's their plan. Appease the ones in power and get them to flip sides. A strategy as old as time among the Verndari. The New Republic is looking to cater to the Core by letting them have their own armies to make them feel safe and important.

Something the Empire cannot offer due to their ideology of centralization and control. The same ideology the Empire is struggling to justify with peace and order given the Rebels are gaining momentum throughout large parts of the Galaxy.

"No longer will your sons and daughters be dragged away to die in far off worlds! Rather than relying on conscripting sector and planetary forces into distant wars, the New Republic shall accept support and forces fueled by patriotism and a desire to see the galaxy a better place."

Right, because relying on a bunch of provincial militias with political interests as the foundation for local military support is going to be very reliable. No chance of local politics and feuds messing up an offensive at all. Although Oltal can see where it is coming from, given the Rebels' insurgent roots.

"This announcement was met with great applause on the New Republic's Senate floor. The end of the Empire's rampant and unsustainable militarism bringing hope for a brighter future."

This was all well and good for the Core and their millennia of build up, but what about people like his Dictate? The Verndari had just been introduced to the galaxy at large. They lack the credits let alone the manpower to defend themselves from the predators out in the Rim even if they managed to drive out the Imperial garrison.

Should they succeed what then? They lack the infrastructure to sustain a siege from neighboring Ugea when they launch their inevitable reprisal. Not to mention their supplies. Were they expected to take Dubrillion itself for their Tibanna Gas production or just go back to wielding spears and javelins when the fuel ran out?

"We now go to a New Republic citizen on Velmor for a planetside reaction:"

"I am just glad that there will be no more fighting. We can bring back our sons and daughters back home. We can finally begin going back to the good old days where war will be a distant centuries old memory."

"King Denid has announced the happy return of all Velmor's PDF from out of system deployments. Promising to bring about greater prosperity than they enjoyed in the Old Republic."

Good for that guy. He is in the secured Mid Rim world, enjoys no challenge to his rule, and has the favor of Republic leaders. Of course those whose positions are secure don't want to pay in blood and treasure for further expansion. It could bring newcomers, and newcomers mean more rivals.

"We now turn to a speech being delivered by the famed Jungle King:"

"My people! This is the start of a new dawn. One bringing hope, freedom, and pea-"

Oltal turned off the recording with a sigh and contacted his secretary on his comlink. Word about these Declarations is probably already spreading, regardless of efforts to keep it suppressed. There will have to be a response.

"My Adit Lord, how can I help you?"

Oltal mentally took stock of the forces and supplies the Tibalt Dictate had on hand. Not as many blasters or vehicles as he'd like, but there were alternative positions he could take going forward. It should be enough to make a move and gain some influence.

"Contact the Moff's office and let him know the Tibalt Dictate wishes to offer a larger portion of its forces for peacekeeping efforts."

No doubt there will be some worlds in the sector who will see the Declarations as an excuse to have a go at independence. Probably thinking if they seize the garrison's equipment, they'll be too prickly to bother. Not realizing all it takes is someone with the same idea and a bigger haul to knock them over.

His forces might not be on the level of the MSDF, but they can at least serve as military police. The situation on Verndar had calmed down since the Annexation and the Assassin War. Guards could be drawn down in the mines. Skills in keeping rambunctious miners in line should translate to obstinate and riotous civilians pretty well.

"And so a new era of chaos and anarchy is dawning, but where there is chaos, there is opportunity."

——

Spoiler: Theorizing about politics in a fictional galactic state

One important thing to keep in mind is the New Republic is not the Rebel Alliance. People from the Rebel Alliance are scattered around the New Republic, but the New Republic is not the Rebel Alliance writ large. If the Rebel Alliance is a fruit concentrate filled with grit and determination, the New Republic is that same concentrate diluted in a large bathtub of lukewarm supporters and former fence sitters, a vast majority from the Core Worlds.

This can be seen in moves like passing The Defense Declarations. The Defense Declarations are a very… Core-centric move on the New Republic's part. Which is understandable given it is coming from Mon Mothma and her Core Republic block. It can be viewed as the Core Worlds trying to get their old Core Rights they had back in the Republic.

I mean did you see what happened when the Core didn't have those Rights? Alderaan got blown up! No no, better let the good old Core folk have their old Rights to spend oodles of credits to build massive fleets and then not send them to aid planets in the Rim. Viewed through that Core-centric lens which had all their rights taken away by big scary central government, the Declarations make perfect political sense to those specific interest groups.

As for why the New Republic would agree to something like this? The Declarations work better as a political compromise than naive idealism. A devil's bargain that gained the New Republic a good chunk of short term benefits in exchange for restrictions and roadblocks down the road.

On one hand it convinced a lot of Core and Mid Rim worlds that have established PDFs who are wavering to side with the New Republic. Proving they were going to decentralize things gained them a lot of resources and manpower in the short term. This was in exchange for limiting the New Republic's central military strength in the future because those decentralized military units probably aren't going to be keen on leaving their sector or even system.

On the other hand, underdeveloped worlds in the Outer Rim that threw off the Empire's shackles are probably going to be left high and dry. They had just kicked out the Empire and the New Republic is drawing down its more mobile and responsive state military in favor of more stationary PDFs. Without the millennia of build up and the New Republic too stretched thin to help them, bad things are going to happen to those worlds.

This makes the Declarations a flawed, if understandable course for the New Republic to take. A way to show the transition from an alliance of cells and guerrilla groups that while varied, were unified against a single enemy, into a nation with interest groups trying to balance conflicting priorities and directions now that Palpatine is gone.

The Core interest groups represents a lot of the wealth and population in New Republic's territory. Most have never fought the Empire a day in their lives and found their "courage" when the momentum shifted. Meanwhile the former Rebels bankrupted themselves and died en masse fighting in the war. A lot either being dead, destitute, or reviled as warmongers for their rhetoric and their tactics during the War.

Now add in those whose worlds are liberated and have seek to enjoy "peace". Those who are tired of war and who aren't willing to risk it coming back just to help "outsiders", uncaring if it rages elsewhere in the galaxy. Those seeking to bring back the "good old days" of the pre-Palpatine Republic that they or their parents remember fondly, no matter how much of a mirage it actually was. Anything to try to chase away the bad memories of their time in the Empire and anything that reminds of them of that time.

Is it any wonder why militancy becomes unpopular in New Republic politics given such an environment?

Crossposted on SV and SB