Governor's Gambit - Star Wars SI into Imperial Governor

[OrderedOrb]

Omake: You Came to the Wrong Neighborhood

POV: Sly, Imperial Data Center U-825, Edin system, Highreach, Edinspire, 1ABY

Sly kept her eyes forward as they walked down the hall. The Imperial military uniforms they stole always fit just wrong for Balosars like her. Especially the hats, but it was needed for the job. This payout better be worth it.

"Just to the right down that way will be the terminal we need. There's no one in our path I can sense."

Conno proved more than just a pretty face during these past few jobs. The Gotal could navigate Imperial facilities like the back of his hand. She didn't even have to hijack the camera feeds with him around. Sly would take navigating a network over staring at these bland walls trying to find her way around.

"Alright there's the door. Conno, use the retina pattern Dat got us."

Bringing up his Retinal Implant to the panel, the simulated eye brought a beep and a green light from the door's scanner. Soon the two of them were in the terminal room and Sly was taking out her electronics lock breaker to open the cage to the terminal.

The cage wasn't on the blueprints Dat provided, but they were half a decade old anyway. It makes sense for the new governor to approve some cheap upgrades to the infrastructure to look good on the reports. The lock didn't stand the chance and they were in.

"Alright. Give me about five minutes and I will have the location for every MPL-57 shipment in this system."

The mention of their target brought a smile to Sly's face. Every crew, cartel, and syndicate needed extra firepower. This data is going to let whomever they sell it to have the easy pickings to upping their boom factor. Rolling back her sleeve, she injected some Longsight then got to work.

Two minutes in and her DataSearch Engine 9C still hadn't found the files they needed despite the power condenser running hot. The amount of what was essentially junk files was staggering. Who would want to keep track of the amount of Agamarian soybeans shipped into Edinspire on a daily basis? Conno's head snapping up broke Sly from her musings.

"Cones up. Looks like two Imps are heading our way."

Not good. Sifting through all this dross data was going to take longer than she thought. Having to mulch all these useless scandocs was taking too much time. Frustration and mental strain forced her to snap at her teammate.

"Well you're the con artist. Get out there and charm us up some more time!"

Conno nodded before stomping his way out of the door. She would have to face the consequences for that later. Turning back to the terminal, Sly felt a rock start forming in her gut.

——

POV: Conno, Imperial Data Center U-825 hallway

Shaking his cones, Conno took a deep breath to compose himself before the Imps rounded the corner. This would be easy. Edin was as lax as any Imperial controlled system could be. Just another gig being used as a sacrificial bantha for his teammates' screw ups.

"Showtime Conno. Time to play the part of a confused alien in need of some human guidance. Get bullied for a bit, take a hit if you need to, get them to move on, get the score, and then spend a nice weekend on the sweetblossom."

At least he was getting paid to take the Imps' abuse unlike the average citizen. All that talk about tolerance and lenient rule only translated to the Imps here being lazy. Letting species that weren't human work in Imperial facilities just means they were an easier mark than the last few places. People like him could wander around in uniform and no one would be any the wiser.

"You there, what are you doing on this level?"

Conno intentionally fumbled getting out one the forged identichips while doing his best to appear meek in the face of his "superiors". Dat assured them that the credentials provided them for the job were durasteel clad. Apparently they were sourced from an Imp that used to work here before the new governor took over. Conno bleated out a shaky response with well hidden confidence.

"P-please have mercy officer. This one was hired as a technician last month. I received orders to come here."

The Imperial officer met his response with a raised eyebrow and some confusion. Just as planned. Imperials loved groveling underlings. The ego of this officer was probably as big as that droid's head behind her.

"And what were those orders, exactly?"

Time to use what was around him. The best lies have some fragment of the truth mixed in after all. Luckily their breaking into the terminal room provided ample material to work with.

"The door to the terminal down the hall has been acting up. Giving off signals it should not. It will still take some time before it is fit to be in your presence."

A bemused smirk told Conno that his explanation was successful. These stupid Imperials. All it takes is showing your belly and they buy anyt-

Conno didn't even sense the fist until it connected with the side of his head.

——

POV: Sly, Imperial Data Center U-825 Data Archive

This job was getting more aggravating by the second. It was like they built this network to be a pain to navigate. Even the encrypted stuff Sly managed to break into looked like complete nonsense.

"C'mon, how many files about medical supplies can one system have? And what's all this talk about some kind of web?"

There is no way a A9G-Series data storage unit could handle this much data. The whole network would be lagging from the thing trying to kee…

"Wait. The network is running smooth. This isn't an A9G. Frak!"

The Patch Sly had installed gave a chirpy sound as it was shorted out. Klaxons began to ring out as the terminal took on a crimson hue. This response speed could only mean one thing.

"This was supposed to be minor facility! Why is there a team of EI-9 network security droids guarding this place!?"

This job is a botch. She needs to contact Conno before things ge-

The only warning Sly got about a hostile being in the room was when the jolts ran through her body.

——

POV: Dat, Dingy Safehouse, Edin system, Highreach, Edinspire, 1ABY

Dat was sitting in his chair breathing in some wonderful Honeyblossom scented methane. The last few jobs had been lucrative so he had splurged. A little reward for what was shaping up to be a very productive year.

"Just have to wait for the latest haul by the pair and then it will be time for some upgrades."

The Morseerian's current set of data forging equipment had served them well enough. The minor Imperial bases and criminal networks they had infiltrated didn't need the most robust of covers. However there was room for improvement.

"Good enough for small bases. Imps and thugs there are only in it for the pay."

They'd need to step up their game if they wanted to hit more heavily defended targets. Dat had a line with an outlaw tech who could hook them up. They mainly did starships, and enough credits could have them boost his mobile data workshop.

"Same old hustle, just different systems, eh Ingram?"

Learn the latest political power play. Track down a flimsipusher who lost the power play. Listen and nod to their sob story about how losing their position means they can no longer pay the debts at the dens they frequent and now they need to skip town. Then milk them for all the credentials from their old workplace in exchange for a new identity. The fact this has become routine for Dat really shows the moral state of the galaxy.

"Yes everything is coming up Pure Saabac for people like us."

Just as the words left Dat's mouth, a rolling sound echoed through the room. At first he thought a piece of kit had fallen off his work desk. However, the bright flash disproved that theory.

The Breath Mask that had been filling Dat's lungs started malfunctioning. This caused him to gasp and cough as his airflow was sudden disrupted. Ingram, his trusty IG-RM bodyguard and enforcer droid, fell to the ground with a thud. The removal of his loyal protector sent Dat's instincts into overdrive.

Dat scrambled to catch something resembling a breath. He grabbed and swung around his EE-3 Carbine Rifle, desperately searching for the threat. One moment he caught a glimpse of the barrel of a AJ-23 Concussive Rifle. The next Dat's back impacted the wall of his safehouse and everything went dark.

——

POV: Commissioner Yardus, Edinspire Network Security Department

Commissioner Yardus gave a heavy sigh as yet another stack of reports greeted him after his lunch. Every script kiddie and amateur slicer thought they could have fun with the city's infrastructure. Not knowing or caring that when they got caught it only increased his workload.

"Commissioner, got another solved case for you."

Yardus tried not to glare at his secretary. She was just doing her job after all. Better see what the latest nerfherder with a datapad got up to.

"This one seems bigger than most files. A bevy of Class Two infractions, with talk of bumping some up to Class Ones? Who are the perps, and how badly did they screw up?"

Usually reports only take up a few pages. This one took up dozens. Yardus was already calculating an extra hour in his workday approving and signing everything.

"A slicer gang got caught in one of the data archives in an Imperial Data Center. Apparently they've been hitting facilities all over the Oversector for the past year. Unfortunately for them the Center's security decided to splurge and get EI-9 network security droids guarding the facility.

The droids uploaded backups from the affected areas into their quick load hidden computer cores when the attack on the network began, then alerted security before moving in to apprehend the slicers. No data was lost, although apparently even the attempt to trash the system to get whatever they were after has made those in power very prickly for some reason.

The infiltrators gave up their contacts fairly quickly. Drugs already in their system made their resistance brittle and prone to cracking. Their hideout was raided before the day was over and their forger is in intensive care. An ex-administrator who was supplying the intel was tackled by starport security after trying to flee under a false identity. Even the freighter the slicers operated out of was impounded. Overall an open and shut case."

Yardus was only half paying attention after the "all over the Oversector" part. Crossing all those lines of jurisdiction was going to make this case a nightmare. A nightmare Yardus does not want mucking up his department. Him and his employees had better things to do than chasing glory from troublesome big cases.

"If they have been hopping sectors then it is above our pay grade. Send a message to Assistant Governor Darna and make the initial preparations to transfer them into the custody of the Imperial Sector Rangers. No need to get into a blaster measuring contest over who gets to be the ones to punish these criminals."

Let them handle this piping hot chokeroot. Given the gangs' frequent hits, the Rangers probably have an open case on them. Hopefully Yardus can get this done before the sun goes down.

"Right away sir. Also the Shaak Street Slicers have been getting their computer spikes into the traffic lights again."

So much for being home for dinner. Yardus can only hope his wife doesn't make him sleep on the couch again.

——
I wanted to make a heist Omake. Then I realized it would probably be people against Las' regime doing it. So I made it a failed heist instead featuring criminals slightly less competent than they think they are and slightly more comfortable than they should be. Turns out Darna takes network security pretty darn seriously. Who knew?

Crossposted on SB and SV

Click to shrink...

Gotta say, I REALLY like your omake's. They reference SO many things from the setting I never even knew about; droid models, races, terminology, tech, weapons, cultural terms and organizations. Fleshes out the whole thing so damn well.

 

[Rustic]

Chp-73

Yo. Not happy with the latter part of this. Still feel like I gotta put out something today.

Should I? No. Will I? Yes. I am flying by the seat of my oversized clown pants after all.

-Freefaller
[/QUOTE]
Hey freefaller just wondering is luke skywalker still traveling across the galaxy to see Minda?
Also how is the agriculture improvements going? Whats going on with the indigenous population on that jungle world with the new lizard people?

 

[Ethertank]

Hey freefaller just wondering is luke skywalker still traveling across the galaxy to see Minda?

Click to shrink...

Well it's now 1ABY now so a New hope already happened so Luke is too busy with the rebellion to do anything

 

[Yacov]

Omake: The Guild Walker Division

POV: Texa Rang
RIII: Guardian, member of the RIII: Syndicate The Order of the Brass Riders
Certifications: Walker IV, Rescuer II
Minda-2

Texa gave one last check over of her freshly installed rotary laser cannon before hopping back into the seat of her Gladiator Walker. Hopefully it will stop her from getting swarmed again like last mission. Adjusting the plasteel slab of a shield on her left mount before speaking into her commlink.

"This is Ranger, Walker is fully online and ready. Sound off before we begin the job."

Ever since Minda-2 was opened fully for business, the Brass Riders have been flooded with work. The dense jungles made navigating with tracked and even repulsor vehicles a difficult challenge. Especially when it came to engaging attackers that struck from the trees off of what passed for roads on this backwater.

Still, corporations and private individuals needed to move convoys between facilities and cities, which often meant land travel. Since a lot of people couldn't wait to trail behind a military patrol, this made small and agile walker squads like hers invaluable as escorts.

"Cheapskate, you finished resetting your "pile bunker"and clearing out all the ration bar wrappers off your pillow?"

Sure a civilian walker like Cheapskate's Rufescent-class cargo hauler might not hold a candle to a proper military LECA. However, when all you're facing is angry wildlife and the occasional low tech bandit, one doesn't need that much in terms of weapon and armor to do a convoy run. Even his excavator arm was more than enough to deal with most of Minda-2's wildlife.

Even without access to military grade tech, the Minda system was quickly become a haven for independent walker pilots. The parts Texa got access to as a civilian here still allowed her Gladiator to run smoother than at any point during her career in the arena.

"Ha ha. Just you wait. I'll pay off these loans in no time and then I'll be tuning up my Rufescent into a monster that will make an AT-ST look like a drunk featherless bird. For now my walker is as good as it is going to get."

Cheapskate might just pull that off given he'd managed to convert a large industrial piston into a melee weapon without tearing his walker apart when using it. The Sullustan had taken a cheap star port hauler and made it able to tank and dish out more damage than Texa thought was possible. The tune up he gave her Gladiator certainly showed he learned something from Engineering School.

Speaking of damage…

"Yo Corporate. Your Espo up and running on your end, or do you need more time for your hair and skin routine?

Texa could see the Heptooinian flinch behind his Espo Walker 91's canopy. Corporate's 91 might be considered outdated since the 101 came out, but it could still do some good work. Texa couldn't count the times Corporate's stun cannon and grenades have fended off the more aggressive megafauna.

"Mock me all you want you brute. A proper walker pilot must look good for the trembling peons when strutting about. Maybe all that time you spent in the pits knocked that common sense out of you Ranger. Also yes, my mount is in peak form."

Corporate might be an insufferable fop, but his piloting was top notch. He never talked about where he was trained or how he got his Espo 91, but the Guild cleared him and said he had no criminal record. Texa could deal with him off the job because he was a consummate professional while on the clock.

"Right looks like the client has finished loading up their convoy. Route's been patrolled less than a week ago. This turns out to be a Lum Run and the drinks are on me!"

Not that the drinks were ever not on her. Her two squad mates were always credit pinchers when it came time to unwind. What's the point in coming out of the latest brush with death if you can't pour away your winnings to blow some steam off afterwards?

That's why she left the arena despite being a Rattataki. Things were getting to stale and regimented with the fights. They even started forbidding pilots from disengaging their emergency shut down feature, took the chance of crashing and exploding right out of the fight. They had even were talking about switching over to droid only fights, the cowards. Bloodshed is what the crowd came to see, not oil spills.

"Don't worry guys, there is absolutely no chance of things going wrong."

Texa ignored the groans of her team from that declaration. Now what dangerous gribbly are they going to run into this time? Oh she hopes it is the big one with the serrated claws Corporate scared off last month. Maybe they'll even bring friends.

——
Yeah so it turns out Civilian Combat Walkers are a thing in Star Wars and Minda-2 opening up gives them the perfect chance to show their stuff. I have little doubt they would become very popular among certain parts of the Guild. The ones who want LECAs, but settle for the equivalent of LECAs at home.

This would encouraged by the LECA's prominence in the Mindan military, especially on Minda-2, and a good base of adjacent knowledge on walkers among Mindan engineers due to Las' research into the combat armors early on. A robust "civilian" market would also train up the engineering sector for further military projects and production.

Crossposted on SB and SV

 

[Freefaller]

Chp-74

Abraxas Thorne
Minda System, Ugea, Accordia

Six months, 12 days, 5 hours, 22 minutes, 43 seconds and counting.

That's how long Abraxas Thorne had been in Minda.

Much of that time had been spent walking the streets in disguise. He found that getting into the lower levels of a city told one just as much, if not more, that what they could gleam from up above.

It was in this way that he discovered the city's quiet efficiency.

Many streets were on the narrower side, meant more for foot traffic than speeders and cargo. Sky bridges and lengthy monorails removed some congestion, but it should've still been a problem.

If not for the tunnels. Beneath the city sat a series of tunnels meant to ferry cargo back and forth. Distribution centers across the city paid a fee to the government to use these tunnels themselves, with the system complete with checkpoints, guards, tolls and more.

This kept the streets flowing, things moving. An efficiency Thorne could appreciate.

It was a thing that he seemed to find all over Minda. Not just the streets, but the government itself followed this trend. The meritocracy encouraged proper skill, and avoided promoting people beyond their area of expertise. With a growing population of people shunned elsewhere in the Empire for factors outside their control, members of the bureaucracy were motivated to do well and prove themselves.

This was especially reflected in the local PDF and security forces. They accepted members from any species, required strict training facilitated by clone veterans, and even necessitated yearly re-tests to ensure all are up to code.

Police were incentivized away from bribes with a living wage and generous pension. Promotions were given based not off of arrest numbers, but community trust scores, peer reviews, and more.

Police uniforms were also more complex, sporting brighter colors, and more complex designs to denote rank. Certain embellishments denoting achievements occasionally showing up. Even the names of the ranks were embellished, with street level officers called Watchmen, their superiors called Lancers, then Sentinels, and so on.

Initially, Thorne had been annoyed by this. It was pointless, took time and resources, especially for the ceremonies that marked the promotions. Ranks were seen as a literal badge of honor, along with the prestige that came with it.

Now, he understood. Rank was tied to metrics involved in the community and the upholding of justice. The prestige that comes with those ranks incentivizes behavior befitting said rank. By framing the position not as a job but a position of honor that would elevate the holder. Then, tying said honor and prestige to the core values of the job.

For all intents and purposes, the Governor has created a culture within his forces that fights corruption without the need for investigators. Not that there weren't investigators, but they seemed to be rarely needed.

It was incredibly effective, a marvel if Thorne was being honest.

However, there were times where even efficiency could not stop the souring of his mood.

As of late, he had been catching glimpses of something. Someone. It was small, but there.

A shipping manifest that listed just one more crate than it actually had.

Workers' manifests that said 15 people worked the job, yet only 13 were paid.

There was more, and they all seemed inconsequential. Clerical errors, typos, the kind of thing that happened in any organization of any size.

Yet, there was one thing that kept him looking. The tip.

The one that led to the Scarred Hand being found and destroyed. He'd followed the lead, but it got lost in the crowds, the people, the endless cacophony of the city itself.

It irked him. Especially since the numbers failed to add up. That last failed attack of the Hand, those terrorists had not been among those captured and killed in the final confrontation. A number of droids had been missing as well.

He had kept on high alert for months, but no signs. It led him to a new conclusion.

Someone took care of them, and then leaked the info to Grant somehow. He didn't suspect Grant directly, no. He'd done his investigation into her and her soldiers already, and she was as clean as someone that bloodthirsty can be.

No, it was someone else.

So here he was, sniffing at the cracks in the pavement. As he read over reports from his own agents in the field, each another tiny puzzle piece, he thought to the beginnings of a report that sat abandoned in his desk. One he meant to send to the ISB.

He had stopped himself. The greater ISB was not friendly to him. His effectiveness had undermined more politically connected agents, and he knew whatever reports of value he sent upwards would be scrubbed of his influence and attributed to another.

So no, he would not be reporting these suspicions. Not yet, and certainly not to the ISB. Even the Governor would be a better choice.

He stopped for a second, considering the thought, before he filed it away and refocusing on the reports before him.

Someone was playing games that they did not fully comprehend, and Thorne would be there to catch them.

-

Today, for the first time in a long time, I was walking the streets of Accordia. It wasn't to be a long trip, partially for security reasons and partially because I had far too much work to do.

Also because I spend far too much time sitting down, and my legs are becoming weak. I used to train with Commander Grant, but our schedules are too busy now, even for a different instructor.

Regardless, I made my way down the streets of the bustling Kailin district. A hood and ventilation mask covered my face, disguising me. It was a common enough fashion trend, having been brought over from Augir.

Apparently, the filter/gas mask culture over there became fashionable? I wouldn't pretend to understand it, but it helped me hide myself well enough. I also kinda liked the new patterns and designs people came up with. They weren't practical, but a filter mask that looks like it's made of a bunch of swords is pretty sweet. Kinda like that throne from that one show, but less ugly.

My security trailed me, hiding within the crowd well enough that if I hadn't memorized their faces (in case one gets replaced by an assassin) I wouldn't be able to see them at all.

They hadn't been happy about the whole thing (save for Myr'thos, who seemed bored if anything), but I had insisted I go out myself. Mostly because I have only ever walked the streets of Accordia a grand total of 3 times. The first time was when I told that mob off. The second when I opened the museum. And the third when I opened the expanded spaceport.

Even then, I barely got to explore the city proper, which was a real waste. I'd never realized how nice the whole place was. Not in the clean city mall way, but in the Los Angeles Grand Central Market kind of way. Where you're immersed in a cacophony of noises and smells and people and it's somehow great.

I stop at a side stall selling some sort of kebab. The vendor is an alien I don't recognize, and they speak in a language of clicks, their mandibles moving far too quickly to see. Still, hand symbols are easy enough, so I point at the food and show two fingers.

They reply with 5 twice, and I take out ten credits in Imperial coins. And isn't that a new thing? Physical currency. All my money goes straight into an account, so getting my hands on coins was a pain in the ass.

I like the jingle though, so I can't complain. A little port in my mask lets me eat as I walk, my other kebab waved over my shoulder.

From within my oversized backpack Mugwuffin's claw whips out before retreating into the darkness with her prize like a rat.

Indignation!

I ignore her whining, knowing full well she means none of it. After all, I just fed her, which bought me maybe 10 or so minutes of peace.

With that time, I reach my actual destination.

A little automated beep chimes as the door slides open. Stepping inside, I am greeted by shelves upon shelves of…servers.

A part of me was hoping for books, to be honest. Even if it would've made looking for things a pain, books are pretty neat.

Unfortunately, there weren't many places that dealt in physical media, much less books as I knew them.

Instead of a romp through a bookstore, I spent all of 20 minutes waiting for my stuff to download while browsing a catalog of other things.

In total, I spent 120 credits on 3 textbooks, 2 history books and a few financial dissertations. Alongside a few novellas, if I ever got the time to read them.

It was honestly a mood killer of sorts. I had hoped, on some deep level, for some kind of connection to Earth. Not a way to go back, I doubt such a thing exists, but something similar. Something that could remind me of home. Like a bookstore.

Instead, it was as if Kindle had a physical storefront.

Still, I'd gotten what I needed. Study material. Even now, I took what time I could to study the textbooks and watch what lectures I could find. Reading through an analysis of some systems' economic collapse is boring as all hell, but useful in what it teaches me.

For example, as industry here on Minda grew and grew, merchants came asking for subsidies on imported food, arguing that Minda could grow more by focusing on industry and importing from agriworlds. The thing is, my studies taught me that over-dependence is deadly. If those worlds experience problems, or pirates prey on the lanes, prices skyrocket and suddenly people are starving.

Others pushed for Minda to specifically focus on mining, to fully commit to a specialization. Of course, if the markets for the ore we export fluctuate too much, the economy starts crashing.

Suffice to say, as much as I loathe studying, it's saved my ass more than once.

Eventually, I make the march back to the train station, where I rest my feet and watch the city skyline pass me by.

A part of me was proud of what I had helped build here. But it was a distant feeling, like the kind you get in a 4x game.

It didn't truly distract from the pit in my chest, that ever present fear that gnawed away at me. I hated thinking about it, denial was one of my primary coping mechanisms after all.

But every day I was forced to confront the reality I had woken up in, and the very real potential of death. Be it from the rebels, any number of Imperial threats, or even the ever present potential threat of my own citizens rebelling against me if things ever got bad enough.

If nothing else, I could try to distract myself in small ways. Like how I was using public transportation.

LA had a pretty sparse Metro line, so cars were always the go to. And once I got here, a personal shuttle was the way to go. But riding a public monorail was fun, like being a tourist.

For some reason, that thought tasted sour. A tourist in my own capital. Even if I didn't plan to stick around, I had something approaching a responsibility to these people. I might as well get to know the city a little better.

This is definitely not an excuse to dodge work!

This and other thoughts occupied my brain until I was back in my office, walking out of the elevator and into my office's lobby.

Myr'thos was already there by the receptionist's desk, having moved far ahead of me. They only needed to be within a mile or so anyways, so I'm not surprised they got here way ahead.

"The dark and brooding colors look good on you, yes, but your insistence on spikes hurts the outfit as a whole! They aren't needed, they look bad, and they overshadow the Governor's own outfit, which is counterproductive!"

And there was Gary. Well, Garp, apparently that's what the office calls him. Better than Gary I suppose, One Piece reference or not.

"The spikes add elegance, poise, power! They would be a statement of my strength, and the people would cower before the mighty prongs of fear that would erupt from my pauldrons and scrape the skies! If the Governor cannot overcome that, he does not deserve to."

"Look, the spikes are not negotiable. Especially at that size! How will you fit through doors? It'll look ridiculous. The pauldrons, on the other hand, aren't half bad. Have you considered some vambraces to go along with them? To really complete the armored look?"
I ignored their banter as I moved towards my office. Surprisingly, the two got along pretty well, always critiquing fashion and building outfits together. A Sith and a Muun, who would've thought.

I pause for a second. Didn't that already…

Shaking my head, I keep moving. Not worth my brain energy.

As I pass by Garps desk, he stops me for a moment.

"Sir, a message came through today about a visitor. They've insisted on seeing you soon."

I raise an eyebrow. "Do they not know my schedule's packed all week? I have Rendili tomorrow for their cruiser design, then a Guild meeting, then a meeting with that new Union rep from the station. Not to mention the interviews, the police academy graduation, and an arbitration to attend. I don't really have time."

He nodded. "I told them, sir. However, they insisted I give you their contact information, and assured me you'd want to speak to them. The information is on your terminal."

I nodded as I moved into my office, whilst the two got to bickering about Stormtrooper armor design.

Setting my bag down and letting Mugwuffin out, I plopped into my chair and booted up my terminal. In the meanwhile, Mugwuffin gets up on her oversized cat tower, playing with a ball of some kind.

Examining recent messages, I fill out a few forms, send my stamp of approval and generally do my duties as Governor for a little while until I get down to the info Garp sent me. Before I can do so, I deftly dodge Mugwuffins rubber ball as she bats it in my direction.

Giving her a glare with no heat, I open the file as the ball bounces around the room.

It's some basic contact info attributed to a line in some hotel in the city.

I looked at the name.

Dornun Mola

I look into the ceiling, doing my best to will the Force to watch me.

"Fuck off."

No response. Of course.

"What a cunt. Omnipotent head ass can't even say sorry?" I snark, leaning as far back into my chair as possible, hoping it'll somehow absorb my problems.

The rubber ball smacks me right in the forehead, sending me falling backwards and out of my chair.

The ball comes to a stop on my chest. One half is white, the other black.

I look up at the ceiling again.

"Very funny."

-

Thorne on that glazing arc, fr fr.

-Freefaller

 

[vtkun]

thank you for the chapter

 

[Dsin]

Is Dornun the Mother or the father? Because I believe it's the mother from the way he talked about that Mola. Plus it is around that time.
Edit: just checked the previous chapter and it was the father not the mother.

 

[AldariSiradla]

Looks like the Agent is slowly going native.
Like really slowly.
But going native all the same.

Ah, nice.
A Sith and a Muun talk about fashion.
That is the making of a funny joke or a great story.

Oh?
Dornun Mola?
Right, time to see if this one is a self-entitled prick that needs a humbling or not.

 

[unlawfulwaffle362]

Someone was playing games that they did not fully comprehend, and Thorne would be there to catch them.

-

Today, for the first time in a long time, I was walking the streets of Accordia. It wasn't to be a long trip, partially for security reasons and partially because I had far too much work to do.

Click to shrink...

Please tell us whose pov we are seeing when you swap characters like this. It took my dumb ass re-reading thrice to understand that the pov was switched to Mugwuffin.

 

[piledriven]

So here he was, sniffing at the cracks in the pavement. As he read over reports from his own agents in the field, each another tiny puzzle piece, he thought to the beginnings of a report that sat abandoned in his desk. One he meant to send to the ISB.

He had stopped himself. The greater ISB was not friendly to him. His effectiveness had undermined more politically connected agents, and he knew whatever reports of value he sent upwards would be scrubbed of his influence and attributed to another.

So no, he would not be reporting these suspicions. Not yet, and certainly not to the ISB. Even the Governor would be a better choice.

Click to shrink...

I see. They sent him out here to rot. Except this is Minda, where efficiency and detail tracking to the degree he goes is PRIZED. Waiting for him to accidentally discover the secret police and send that report to Las.

Giving her a glare with no heat, I open the file as the ball bounces around the room.

It's some basic contact info attributed to a line in some hotel in the city.

I looked at the name.

Dornun Mola

I look into the ceiling, doing my best to will the Force to watch me.

"Fuck off."

No response. Of course.

"What a cunt. Omnipotent head ass can't even say sorry?" I snark, leaning as far back into my chair as possible, hoping it'll somehow absorb my problems.

The rubber ball smacks me right in the forehead, sending me falling backwards and out of my chair.

The ball comes to a stop on my chest. One half is white, the other black.

I look up at the ceiling again.

"Very funny."

Click to shrink...

THE BALL HAS SPOKEN!
Translated it comes out as "Deal with your own bullshit!"
ALL HAIL THE BALL!

50/50 chance it'll work out. But you have to go and reach out and deal with it. Or force the fucker to use simple and direct language to answer the question. Flowery BS and avoiding the questions are not valid responses. Smack him with a ball until he behaves.

 

[OSRfanatic1]

With How long to it took for the Father to show up. I bet we wont see mc's Mother till past chapter 90+ at the soonest.

 

[TerribleReadingProblem]

I see. They sent him out here to rot. Except this is Minda, where efficiency and detail tracking to the degree he goes is PRIZED. Waiting for him to accidentally discover the secret police and send that report to Las.

Click to shrink...

nah more like think Las is running the secret police and with the efficiency meritocracy and a hidden secret police he'll think of Minda as the holy land for an ISB agent

 

[TRm]

I really liked how the interactions and world building are shown

 

[oscar e Sampedro Lopez]

Thanks for the chapter Great story as always

 

[Arrowthorne]

THE RUBBERBALL HAS RETURNED

and all is right in the world.

 

[Mistroz]

excellent chapter.

 

[Watching]

Mugwuffin gets up on her oversized cat tower, playing with a ball of some kind.

Click to shrink...

The rubber ball smacks me right in the forehead, sending me falling backwards and out of my chair.

Click to shrink...

PRAISE BE! THE SACRED BOUCY BALLS HAVE RETURNED!

Where have they been all this time?

 

[Yacov]

Police were incentivized away from bribes with a living wage and generous pension. Promotions were given based not off of arrest numbers, but community trust scores, peer reviews, and more.

Click to shrink...

Meanwhile on Coruscant: "We haven't met quota for our prisons, go arrest an entire city block on the lower levels."

Was this during the Republic or the Empire? The answer is yes.

It irked him. Especially since the numbers failed to add up. That last failed attack of the Hand, those terrorists had not been among those captured and killed in the final confrontation. A number of droids had been missing as well.

He had kept on high alert for months, but no signs. It led him to a new conclusion.

Someone took care of them, and then leaked the info to Grant somehow. He didn't suspect Grant directly, no. He'd done his investigation into her and her soldiers already, and she was as clean as someone that bloodthirsty can be.

No, it was someone else.

Click to shrink...

This is probably what got Thorne sent to Minda. In the Empire, when a group of dissidents gets mysteriously vanished, stop looking. That usually ends with someone with a lightsaber knocking down your door.

So here he was, sniffing at the cracks in the pavement. As he read over reports from his own agents in the field, each another tiny puzzle piece, he thought to the beginnings of a report that sat abandoned in his desk. One he meant to send to the ISB.

He had stopped himself. The greater ISB was not friendly to him. His effectiveness had undermined more politically connected agents, and he knew whatever reports of value he sent upwards would be scrubbed of his influence and attributed to another.

Click to shrink...

Classic Imperial self-interest. "I won't report this potential problem to the higher ups because I won't get credit. Surely I can handle things myself."

Regardless, I made my way down the streets of the bustling Kailin district. A hood and ventilation mask covered my face, disguising me. It was a common enough fashion trend, having been brought over from Augir.

Apparently, the filter/gas mask culture over there became fashionable? I wouldn't pretend to understand it, but it helped me hide myself well enough. I also kinda liked the new patterns and designs people came up with. They weren't practical, but a filter mask that looks like it's made of a bunch of swords is pretty sweet. Kinda like that throne from that one show, but less ugly.

Click to shrink...

Ugea: most scrubbed air on an inhabited planet in the Sector.

Also Ugea: but that gas mask aesthetic though.

I stop at a side stall selling some sort of kebab. The vendor is an alien I don't recognize, and they speak in a language of clicks, their mandibles moving far too quickly to see. Still, hand symbols are easy enough, so I point at the food and show two fingers.

They reply with 5 twice, and I take out ten credits in Imperial coins. And isn't that a new thing? Physical currency. All my money goes straight into an account, so getting my hands on coins was a pain in the ass.

Click to shrink...

5 credits for a cooked meal on the street? That's pretty good for food prices. I am guessing the cost of cooking at home is even cheaper.

Also it is probably a smart move to get the citizens using coins. Physical coins means Minda probably has a mint. When the Imperial Credit collapses, Las can just mint Credits with valuable minerals or just mint a new currency, also with valuable minerals or gems.

In total, I spent 120 credits on 3 textbooks, 2 history books and a few financial dissertations. Alongside a few novellas, if I ever got the time to read them.

It was honestly a mood killer of sorts. I had hoped, on some deep level, for some kind of connection to Earth. Not a way to go back, I doubt such a thing exists, but something similar. Something that could remind me of home. Like a bookstore.

Click to shrink...

So about a week or two of surplus income for a laborer can buy you a college course's worth of books and some extras on Minda. That's pretty amazing by Outer Rim standards. That ubiquity and cheapness of knowledge distribution is really going to help the system's education level.

Still, I'd gotten what I needed. Study material. Even now, I took what time I could to study the textbooks and watch what lectures I could find. Reading through an analysis of some systems' economic collapse is boring as all hell, but useful in what it teaches me.

For example, as industry here on Minda grew and grew, merchants came asking for subsidies on imported food, arguing that Minda could grow more by focusing on industry and importing from agriworlds. The thing is, my studies taught me that over-dependence is deadly. If those worlds experience problems, or pirates prey on the lanes, prices skyrocket and suddenly people are starving.

Others pushed for Minda to specifically focus on mining, to fully commit to a specialization. Of course, if the markets for the ore we export fluctuate too much, the economy starts crashing.

Suffice to say, as much as I loathe studying, it's saved my ass more than once.

Click to shrink...

Other Imperial Warlords: "We must institute a raiding based economy to stay alive. Raid everyone."

Las: "Do none of you realize that raiding is one of the most unpredictable industries for consistent resource streams? Did none of you read Professor Komkuat's dissertation last year? Come on!"

I have Rendili tomorrow for their cruiser design

Click to shrink...

I wonder, is that a Dreadnought I see, something new, or a bulk cruiser for shipping?

 

[The Kijs]

Please tell us whose pov we are seeing when you swap characters like this. It took my dumb ass re-reading thrice to understand that the pov was switched to Mugwuffin.

Click to shrink...

Las Mola, our dear Governor, is the only one who gets a first person perspective, which is how I figured it out before the text got to context clues with Las referring to himself in his internal monologue, but yeah. That took me a second too, since Thorne had a whole segment introducing his POV and then just a scene break and no intro for our SI

 

[sperance]

Three weeks later, Dornun is still waiting in that hotel room.

"I'm starting to think Las won't call."