crbox
Experienced.
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If they'd captured any of these even remotely intact the Mando clans would've been all over the bureaucracy/seized ship auctions trying to buy them up.
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Governor's Gambit - Star Wars SI into Imperial Governor
- Thread starter Freefaller
- Start date
CRIMSON DAWN SHADOW LEDGER | ENTRY 8842
Freefaller
Not too sore, are you?
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CRIMSON DAWN SHADOW LEDGER | ENTRY 8842
SUBJECT Asset Analysis TIE WhirlwindRECIPIENT High Command Shadow Syndicate Leads
ORIGIN Minda System Myto Sector STATUS High Threat Low Proliferation
I. ORIGINS AND PROCUREMENT The TIE Whirlwind emerged from the Minda System during the tenure of Las Mola as Governor. It was the centerpiece of a localized upgrade initiative. While technically superior to the standard line, the unit was deemed cost-prohibitive for Imperial mass manufacture. Consequently, it remains restricted to specialized ace wings. Crimson Dawn agents should view this craft as a bespoke instrument of the Myto Sector elite rather than a standard Imperial resource.
II. TECHNICAL PROFILE AND PERFORMANCE This variant occupies a niche between the standard TIE and the Interceptor. It is faster than the former but lacks the raw velocity of the latter. Unlike standard TIE units, the Whirlwind is equipped with shielding, granting it a level of survivability uncommon in the Imperial starfighter corps.
- Primary Armament: Two dual laser cannon turrets
- Secondary Armament: Two concussion missiles
- Maneuverability: The wings and integrated engines are capable of independent rotation. This allows for rapid changes in flight geometry and rotation that defy standard intercept trajectories.
- Firing Arcs: The dual laser turrets operate independently of the cockpit orientation. Combined with folding wing panels, the pilot can engage targets in nearly any direction including the rear, above, and below the chassis.
- Engagement Protocol: Total avoidance is recommended. The craft is lethal because of its maneuverability, not its armor.
- Pilot Limitations: The learning curve for the Whirlwind is exceptionally steep. The number of Imperial pilots capable of utilizing the craft's full potential is negligible.
- Syndicate Integration: The high unit cost makes it an unsuitable asset for Crimson Dawn fleet acquisition. The ship is too conspicuous for our operations and requires a logistical tail that contradicts our preference for stealth.
–
Honestly couldn't think of how the Dawn would write a report. Then I remembered their entire thing is info gathering and sneaky stuff, so they'd be just as capable of bureaucratic nonsense as the rest of the galaxy. If I think of a better way to write this, or if someone suggests one, I'll rewrite this and make the next Dawn report in the same manner. Cause this, it just doesn't feel right.
furiothecat
Know what you're doing yet?
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I've got 20,000 completely legitimately acquired Spaarti cylinders and 1 slightly used DNA sample from Baron Soontir Fel to sell you...
theoretisch cool
Not too sore, are you?
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That would be a good idea.
Yacov
I trust you know where the happy button is?
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Love how even the criminals recognize the Myto Sector government and elite as a separate thing than standard Imperials. Then again with how hard they are getting hit by them, I imagine that was becoming pretty apparent.
Wonder what a force sensitive ace could do in a Whirlwind? That level of skill and flat out precognition would be a monster on the battlefield.
Heidao
Not too sore, are you?
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Everyone acknowledging Myto as a scary place of new and unpredictable tech development.
And are thankful that central command rejects it out of principle, that something made from a backwater isn't worth considering.
Meanwhile they fear what happens when the tech is inevitably accepted, likely among the partners of the Tri-Sector Trade Treaty. Those two are supposedly wealthy in their own methods, what happens when their forces start fielding shielded TIEs and LECAs?
And are thankful that central command rejects it out of principle, that something made from a backwater isn't worth considering.
Meanwhile they fear what happens when the tech is inevitably accepted, likely among the partners of the Tri-Sector Trade Treaty. Those two are supposedly wealthy in their own methods, what happens when their forces start fielding shielded TIEs and LECAs?
Blackenedthorn
Too many ideas, so little time
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Now it makes sense, the Core Worlders want to handicap Vader as much as possible and providing him a TIE Whirlwind would make him an even greater threat.
Chp-110
Freefaller
Not too sore, are you?
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Chp-110
Las
2.7 ABY 3 Months Later
"...and make sure to double check every single request for more subsidy money. Those new industries must prove they aren't getting lazy. Remember to force them to try and sell sector wide or they won't stay sharp."
"Of course, sir. This is the third time you've said this."
I refrained from saying it a fourth, though Force knows I wanted to. I was going to be away for a week and a half, which felt like far too much time.
"And I'll say it as many times as I need to. If I return to the sector to find it burnt to the ground, there will be pay cuts!"
Roius's face scrunched up a tad, in the way one does when they're holding back a sigh.
"As you say, sir."
"Well, I do say! Also, please be sure to give Grant something to kill. She's been cooped up in the Minda system for too long. I keep hearing things in the walls."I shudder, the memories of sleepless nights filled with strange screeches returning to me. The tunnels on the station weren't even that big, and I have no idea how she got the droids up here.
"I don't care if it's her 'expert tunnel combat training', it's unacceptable for her to be fighting repurposed commando droids in the maintenance tunnels. Get her some exercise, please."
"Understood, sir. Do you have any specific instructions regarding the ICM Construction Stations? They've nearly arrived."
I paused for a second, thinking back over my previous plans. The stations were mobile, but required hyperspace tugs to move about. The plan was to use them to quicken the building of projects designated as important to the sector at large. Shipyards, for example, among other things.
"No. Go ahead as planned. I trust you to figure it out if any complications arise, though they shouldn't."
And that was it. My work is done, for now. I took a seat in the comfort of my executive shuttle, watching out the window as it took off into space.
From the station, the shuttle made a beeline towards an Arbiter-Class. Vigil of Starless Night, the very first of its kin, not counting the Arbiter herself, though she was but a prototype.
Vigil had been the first from the yards, and the first to get a retrofit. The worst of the structural problems had been rectified, alongside a myriad of other, smaller issues identified by crew over the months. Apparently, the shipwide intercom had a habit of either being too loud or too soft, with no inbetween.
Regardless, I hadn't wanted to take the Vigil. It felt like a waste to drag a perfectly good patrol ship out of its role just to escort me to Coruscant.
However, the situation was no longer as dire as it had been 3 months prior. The Consortium remnants were just that, remnants. While outside shadowports kept them afloat, they simply couldn't bring to bear any semblance of a unified front. Ultimately, the largest were felled. Estimates put the number of Keldabe and Aggressor class capital ships still wandering at under 10 for each, a sheer drop from previous estimates.
Combined with the Guild finally getting a semblance of standardization going in its patrols and things were going good. They'd started a contract with Abyssal Industries to procure cruisers to act as the baseline for patrols. The Reef-Class it was called, fairly good at what it did though from the price tag it was clear it was built to be affordable first.
All of that combined meant that for the first time in a long time, I could safely leave the sector alone for a week and not have it all burn down around me. Incredible, I know.
Once aboard the Vigil, I was given my own private quarters. Honestly, they were larger than my regular quarters. Officers live well, I suppose.
Regardless, I settled in quickly, taking the time to review my thesis and presentation. Mugwuffin found a nice spot with a window view and Myr'thos had taken residence next door. I could only imagine the kitchen staff would be terrorized in the coming days as they tore the place apart for ingredients.
Myr'thos's obsession with making the perfect drink was…odd. Especially given that the perfect drink already existed.
I took a sip from my thermos and sighed in contentment. Perfection. If the Jedi had this, they never would've fallen.
–
Coruscant was many things. Big, glittery, noisy, rich. But above all…
"This place is a shithole." I said plainly, staring out the window of the Imperial Hotel in the Imperial Center. Naming geniuses, this lot.
"Oh? You are not in utter amazement at the grandest center of the galaxy, peasant? Maybe you have some hope yet if you are not enthralled by its seductive beauty."
Myr'thos's voice was as smoothly grating as ever.
"Yeah, well it's kind of hard to be enthralled by the single biggest concentration of corruption ever made. Honestly, I'm surprised this entire planet isn't a darkside nexus already."
"Hah! Oh, there was once a plan for something like that. Those fools on the Dark Council never went through with it, though." Myr'thos laughed as they plopped down onto the rooms couch, sinking into velvety cushions that probably cost more than a TIE.
And funnily enough, that was a statement to this hotel's affordability. In order to keep up appearances as a Moff, I had little choice than to stay at a hotel such as the Imperial. Sure, this was one of its cheapest rooms but it was still absurdly expensive. Thankfully, we'd only be here a few days at best.
"Now, peasant. I'm famished. If this establishment is as exquisite as it claims, it should have premium dining, no?"
I wanted to sigh, but my stomach growled instead. "Fine, I guess I could do with a bite. And that restaurant did seem pretty nice, like, no prices on the menu. Might as well."
It didn't take long for us to get ready. I just put on a clean uniform, while Myr'thos got out a nice outfit Garp had gifted them.
It was almost a mix of a dress and a formal suit. A clean, simple designed suit and pants with flowing stretches of fabric that stretched to their knees sprouting from the torso. All of it color coordinated in beautiful purples and golds. The suit stretched up their neck, stopping only at the lower portion of their sharp, angular cheeks.
Clearly, they'd noticed me staring as Myr'thos hit a pose. A bodybuilder pose, stretching one arm down before curling it, muscles bulging.
"Stunned, mensch? Of course you are, for I am worthy of no less!"
I raised an eyebrow. "Stunned by the quality. What bet did Garp lose for him to make you this?"
"The tailor gifted this piece to me for free, as a return for allowing him to gaze upon my beauty!" They said. My eyebrow went higher, and they coughed a bit. "And I may have sabotaged his competition…just a tad."
"Huh. Didn't know Garp had it in him." It was then that Mugwuffin came sauntering into the room. The little lizard had somehow, someway, gotten ahold of an outfit. A tiny tuxedo of sorts, far too well made to be anything but a custom job.
I stared at her. She stared at me. We both stared for at least a minute before I gave up and just turned away. Sometimes, acceptance is the only way forward.
"Now, cur, escort me forward! Now is the time for elegance, grace, glamor! And such glamor demands that you show favor towards the best of those here." Myr'thos exclaimed, holding an arm out for me to link with.
"Hah! No." Then I turned, making way to the door. Behind me, I could hear Mugwuffin snorting in her strange, lizard-like laughter.
"You lowly creature! Honorless cur, one must respect their superiors!"
"I pay you." Was my only response.
–
Somehow, we made it to the restaurant without causing a scene.
Surprisingly, we weren't turned away because of Myr'thos not being human. Nor because of Mugwuffin being, well Mugwuffin.
The staff themselves were all aliens. Many being twilek's of both sexes. Sex sells, after all, even in an establishment this upscale.
It also helped that I was an Imperial Moff, my simple uniform holding the colored pips indicating my status.
Once we were seated at a booth, menus were quickly given. The noise of the establishment was higher than I'd have expected from a place such as this, but the ambiance seemed worth it.
Not a single price tag, so I could only assume I'd be paying a light freighter worth for whatever we ordered. Internally, I winced at the idea. Sure, I had a much higher salary now, but I was still a miser at heart.
Ordering was an ordeal in and of itself. I chose some sort of steak, and Myr'thos grilled the server on the drinks for nearly 15 minutes. But Mugwuffin decided that she just had to order for herself. Nevermind the fact she wasn't trying to hide that she was fully intelligent and could read. She spent another 15 minutes playing charades with the server to communicate exactly how she wanted her fish prepared.
"At this point, you need to learn to speak Basic, because it's getting ridiculous."
Denial
I sighed. "I'm never taking you two anywhere ever again."
"I have no stake in this conflict, cur. Why must I be included with the likes of this rapscallion!?"
"Because you spent just as long as she did asking about whether they used 2 week or 3 week old orban fruits in their mixes. Obviously the server didn't know!" I resisted the urge to slam my face into my palms, instead turning my focus to my PDA.
On the screen sat my presentation. 32 minutes worth of slides, evidence, and a whole lot of yapping. It was actually severely shortened, as my original had too many details and was closer to 3 hours.
"Reconstructed Institutional Frameworks and Transaction Cost Reduction in Frontier Economies: A Re-examination of Pre-Imperial Development Models Using Contemporary Evidence from the Myto Sector", it was called. The pre-Imperial developmental models mentioned were things I found after creating the Guild, funnily enough.
Of course, in 25 thousand years of history, others in the Republic had come up with similar ideas. Once I went looking for them, I found plenty of examples. Most pretty local, with few ever going up to the sector level and rarely staying there for long. The combination of outer rim backwater and total Imperial autocratic control gave me the perfect testbed, apparently.
"This presentation of yours, how certain are you of victory? Your fear has been so obvious, to miss it would be to somehow miss the storms of Dromund Kaas." Myr'thos asked, elbows propped on the table as they leaned forward. The din of the restaurant was lower now, and their voice lowered with it.
"There isn't a 'victory' here, Myr'thos. That implies a conflict to be won. And no, I'm not super confident. I don't think I'll do poorly, but this is the University of Coruscant. They work on a different level, you know."
"You are engaging in a thesis defense. Therefore, you are in a battle of wits, meaning victory is achievable." They said, taking a sip of their complimentary water before spitting it out. "Not nearly filtered enough. Pathetic."
"...ok, point. However, it's a discussion on economic systems and how those I've constructed back home function. If this were a military discussion on, say, the functioning of the Arbiter-Class, or an intelligence discussion on the effectiveness of the Auditor program, then maybe 'victory' would be more applicable. But given it's not, I still don't think it fits."
Before Myr'thos can continue this banal argument, we both notice something. The restaurant which had previously been filled with the din of diners and servants was now hushed, almost silent.
Looking around, I found the source.
A woman wearing a striking dress, pure white contrasted with deep red. It was a harsh, jagged design, all angles and not a single piece of fabric left to flow freely.
Her appearance was more than that, however. Her hair was dyed, the front portion that framed her face a white so natural looking it was as though only those hairs had decided to age. Her face itself was pale, but not in an unhealthy fashion. A strong jaw and few wrinkles told me she either used plenty of products or was on the younger side.
Given we were on Coruscant, my money was on a 200 year old lady who kept herself looking 30 through the blood of orphans or something equally heinous.
But it was her eyes that caught the most attention. One blue, the other red. Both sharp, intelligent, almost predatory.
Especially since they were staring at me.
Off to the side, I saw the server coming back around with our food before he spotted her. For some reason, he decided to back away.
Was there something wrong with the food? Shit, maybe they were more speciest than I thought. Is a Moffs badge not enough to dissuade them?
By then, the woman had reached our table. From the coiling in their shoulders, Myr'thos seemed ready to pounce. Or worse, say something too heinous to ever leave an online lobby. I gave them a light kick under the table, one that was returned with such swiftness and ferocity I was fairly certain I heard something break.
Still, it worked to keep them quiet, and I bottled my pain deep inside as I turned to the new arrival.
"Ah, hello there. Can I help you with something, Miss?"
She quirked an eyebrow, though if it was curiosity or annoyance I couldn't tell. Her face was so neutral it might've been carved from marble.
"You're not from around here, are you good sir." She said simply, though the undertone was clear. She was someone who expected answers.
"Well, I was born here. My family moved to the outer rim when I was young, and this is the first time I've been back in many years."
"Hmmm. An Outer Rim Moff then? Which sector?"
"The Myto Sector. Up in the Northern Dependencies, Bright Jewel Oversector." She was starting to get on my nerves, now. I wasn't one for ego or pride, even with my office. But she was just plain rude! Hadn't even introduced herself.
Before I can ask her name, she barrels forward. "You mentioned an Auditor program. I wasn't aware the Treasury had designated their Auditors as part of a 'program'."
"Oh, they haven't. As Moff, I created my own local program to train Auditors whose task it is to audit individual systems and planets within my sector. They work to keep Governors honest, and encourage clean ledgers all around. In fact, productivity and tax payouts have risen nearly 10% since they started working, though–"
She held a hand up, and I stopped talking. Again, rude of her, but I was going on something of a tangent so I let it slide.
Can you blame me? No one ever asks me questions about these things, and I really like talking about it!
"I see. Good day, Moff."
From there, she walked off, posture and gait perfect as though the eyes on her were meaningless. At the exit a pair of red armored stormtroopers met her, hulking forms larger than normal.
"You allowed her to simply walk over your work, fool. It is clear you lack the pride needed to lead." Myr'thos grumbled, as the server finally arrived.
Shaky hands delivered platters of fine smelling cuisine, and I handed the man a 150 credit tip.
All the while, I tried not to slam my food into Myr'thos's face.
"Look, not being rude to people is social behavior rule #1, you know."
"Rules are for the weak!" They grumbled, taking a sniff and then tentative sip of their drink. "And these orban fruits are only two and half weeks old, they need to be fermented for longer! By the Force, this planet never ceases to disappoint.
Mugwuffin also made a show of snobbily picking at her plate, clawed hands using utensils to poke and prod at a fish a quarter her size that she'd never finish. Finally, she abandoned any pretenses and started shoving the entire thing into her gullet.
I sighed and looked down at my food. Maybe I could finish my meal before I die of embarrassment.
Oh, who am I kidding.
–
Yulitra Zantara
Sector General
Myto Sector
Cril System
Criloptima
"Please, this way General. We have an observation room waiting."
The man's voice was low, with a positive tilt to it. The kind you only heard when someone was pandering to you, or trying to sell you something.
In Yulitra's case, it was both.
The observation room was a lavish thing. Soft seats, snacks plated on expensive, hand carved tables. To one side sat an array of drinks, chilled to perfect and ready to be poured.
It was clear that Cril Robotics and Automotive Ballistics was pandering, and pandering hard. She could understand why, if nothing else.
The Cril system was on the rise, trying to compete with the industrial heavy hitters like Belladoon, Destora and Artorias. A few larger companies had scored contracts with larger merchant concerns and mercenary companies. And now the largest was trying to score a military contract.
If not for her schedule being clearer these days, she would've refused. As it stands, the Moff was insistent on ensuring that higher ups such as herself got around. No holing up in her office all day.
If he wasn't her superior, she'd call him the biggest hypocrite this side of the mid rim. Considering what he was like, she might just get away with doing it too.
Regardless, as she sat down, enjoying the plushness as her one escape from the buffoonery, the company CEO entered.
"Lawrence B. Ster, madam General, at your service." He said, voice rushed.
Lawrence was a large man, his suit straining to contain his bulk. His skin seemed a perpetual shade of red, as though he was constantly sunburnt.
"I say, it is an honor to have you here, madam. I surely hope you are pleased with our newest product demonstration." He continued, pulling at the collar of his suit as though it were strangling him.
"I hope so as well, Mr. Ster." She replied simply, already turning back out the observation window.
Outside was the flat, grey expanse of the company's test yard. A series of obstacles and targets had been placed about at various intervals, creating a simple test course.
The testee itself kneeled not far from the observation deck itself. A bipedal walker of some kind, swarmed by support staff.
"Ah, our company's pride and joy! I say, it's quite the machine. The Tactical Unit for Next-gen Armor is its name. A bit of a mouthful, but that can always be changed. Why, my father always said…"
She'd tuned him out at this point, eyes scanning the machine itself.
It was large, larger than a LECA at least. A LECA stood at around 3 meters tall. This was at least 10 meters tall. That's a meter taller than an AT-ST.
The next thing she noticed was its armor. Or seeming lack thereof. Oh sure, there was the appearance of armor, metal covering the frame. But she'd been in the industry of war her whole life. She knew what armor, real armor looked like.
This seemed like a cheap imitation.
"...and on the shoulders sit our proprietary folding laser cannon technology. They provide potent anti-armor firepower without burdening the hands! I say, those eggheads down in R&D are right geniuses they are! Now watch, the test is set to begin."
The walker stood from its position as support staff scurried from its frame. As it activated, lights across its torso seemed to activate in sync. They blinked on, one by one up the frame until finally its eyes blazed to life in a baleful green.
"I say I say, if this doesn't terrify those pirates into submission on the spot, I don't know what will!"
The frame turned towards the obstacle course, crouching down into a runners pose. Yulitra leaned forward. The armor might've been a fluke, perhaps. Or a stopgag measure. But if this thing could deadsprint, at its size?
The possibilities were potent, to say the least.
Thrusters flared blue as the walker burst into a sprint. Its armored feet slamming into the pavement while its arms pumped up and down.
Yulitra's mind raced with analysis. The applications were-
On the fourth step, a laser cannon fell off.
On the fifth, an arm popped from its socket, crashing to the ground.
On the sixth, both legs seemingly decided to disconnect at the same time.
As the frame's torso slammed into the ground, Yulitra slowly turned her head towards Lawrence.
If the man was red before, now he was scarlet. She wasn't aware a human being could produce that much sweat. Maybe he was a near-human of some kind?
"I-i say, I say, that is…" He took a gulp of air, pulling on his collar so hard she could hear a slight tear. "...t-that is absolutely not an a-accurate representation of our company's prowess! Why, I never seen such a sight, and I swear to you–wait, w-where are you going!?"
Yulitra was already walking out of the room by the time he noticed.
She walked the entire 15 minute walk back to her shuttle with Lawrence on her tail, trying his very best to both keep up, breathe properly, and somehow explain his way out of this mess.
–
She wasn't of the belief he had any way of salvaging this.
His desperate pleas only stopped once the shuttle doors had closed. She breathed the tiniest
sigh of relief, glad to have escaped his buffonnery.
She took a seat, settling into the rigid yet nostalgic seat of the Nu-Class shuttle. An Old Republic keepsake she'd manage to keep, even with the Empires general disdain towards symbols of its past.
Sure, the Moff had his fancy, out of production Incom executive shuttle, and the Sector Admiral never flew in anything smaller than a Sentinel. But the Nu-Class was just different. Though, if she could've managed one, she'd still be flying around in an LAAT.
Once her shuttle was back in the air, she took to her PDA to check her schedule.
She had a meeting with her staff in a few hours on the general readiness of sector forces which she was not looking forward too. While she';d tried to cultivate an inner staff of professionals, some fools slipped through the cracks. But the information gathering was ongoing, and a purge was being prepared. She just had to be patient.
The one after that was on the pirate situation. These had been getting shorter and shorter as things improved, which was a good thing. Not because the piracy was getting better, though that was a reason, but because the first few were over 3 hours long.
Finally, a meeting with other Sector Administrators on the plans for the Academies.
Frankly speaking, at least half of the meetings on her calendar for the next few days wouldn't be there if the Moff was still in the sector.
Regardless, at least the Academies were finally seeing change. Yulitra was lucky enough that ground troops of decent training were more plentiful than crewmen, or else she might've been stuck with idiots all the way down like Veers was.
She pitied Veers. 18 lost ships in 6 months would be bad attrition during wartime, but peacetime? Awful.
An alert on her PDA refocused her attention. A message from one of her secretaries. And yes, she had multiple. The Moff was just enough of a workaholic to barely leave enough work for one.
Anyways, she'd been forwarded a message from another Cril based company. An invitation to view one of their products, in the hopes of winning a contract.
They even sent ahead a dossier on their product. How thoughtful.
Opening it, she was greeted with a walker.
A TIE walker.
Yulitra turned off her PDA and resisted the urge to fling it against the shuttle wall.
She failed.
–
So I figured various companies sector wide would see the success and spread of the LECA and try to copy it, or make their own, better version. Some would, of course, try. And fail, as this company did.
Maybe others will succeed in the future in one way or another, but this company certainly didn't. I'm of the opinion that people in all industries try to copy trends, even in something as serious as the military industrial complex. Whether they ride the wave or drown is up to them.
I'll admit, I've been watching some Legends of Avantris and Jean Claude stuck with me a tad, which is why Lawrence was tossing out "I say!" as much as he was.
Other than that, sorry for the delay. I got sick for the entire week of spring break and it sucked balls. Then I got sucked into the delightful game of Pragmata, while sick. So all in all it was not a feel good week for me.
Did cook though. Fried chicken breaded with lays chips. Burnt like half of em cause I put too much oil and was not on top of timing things. Still turned out aight, though I lament my current lack of cumin/paprika.
Also made a chocolate lava cake, or tried too. I didn't have chocolate bars, only cocoa powder, so I had to make do with less of a cake and more of just the lava part with some cake-like bits mixed in. It still tasted great, but it's cake so that's expected.
And I'm begging, praying to god ya'll catch the puns I made this chapter. I'm real proud of em.
Well well well, if it isn't the consequences of my actions…
-Freefaller
Las
2.7 ABY 3 Months Later
"...and make sure to double check every single request for more subsidy money. Those new industries must prove they aren't getting lazy. Remember to force them to try and sell sector wide or they won't stay sharp."
"Of course, sir. This is the third time you've said this."
I refrained from saying it a fourth, though Force knows I wanted to. I was going to be away for a week and a half, which felt like far too much time.
"And I'll say it as many times as I need to. If I return to the sector to find it burnt to the ground, there will be pay cuts!"
Roius's face scrunched up a tad, in the way one does when they're holding back a sigh.
"As you say, sir."
"Well, I do say! Also, please be sure to give Grant something to kill. She's been cooped up in the Minda system for too long. I keep hearing things in the walls."I shudder, the memories of sleepless nights filled with strange screeches returning to me. The tunnels on the station weren't even that big, and I have no idea how she got the droids up here.
"I don't care if it's her 'expert tunnel combat training', it's unacceptable for her to be fighting repurposed commando droids in the maintenance tunnels. Get her some exercise, please."
"Understood, sir. Do you have any specific instructions regarding the ICM Construction Stations? They've nearly arrived."
I paused for a second, thinking back over my previous plans. The stations were mobile, but required hyperspace tugs to move about. The plan was to use them to quicken the building of projects designated as important to the sector at large. Shipyards, for example, among other things.
"No. Go ahead as planned. I trust you to figure it out if any complications arise, though they shouldn't."
And that was it. My work is done, for now. I took a seat in the comfort of my executive shuttle, watching out the window as it took off into space.
From the station, the shuttle made a beeline towards an Arbiter-Class. Vigil of Starless Night, the very first of its kin, not counting the Arbiter herself, though she was but a prototype.
Vigil had been the first from the yards, and the first to get a retrofit. The worst of the structural problems had been rectified, alongside a myriad of other, smaller issues identified by crew over the months. Apparently, the shipwide intercom had a habit of either being too loud or too soft, with no inbetween.
Regardless, I hadn't wanted to take the Vigil. It felt like a waste to drag a perfectly good patrol ship out of its role just to escort me to Coruscant.
However, the situation was no longer as dire as it had been 3 months prior. The Consortium remnants were just that, remnants. While outside shadowports kept them afloat, they simply couldn't bring to bear any semblance of a unified front. Ultimately, the largest were felled. Estimates put the number of Keldabe and Aggressor class capital ships still wandering at under 10 for each, a sheer drop from previous estimates.
Combined with the Guild finally getting a semblance of standardization going in its patrols and things were going good. They'd started a contract with Abyssal Industries to procure cruisers to act as the baseline for patrols. The Reef-Class it was called, fairly good at what it did though from the price tag it was clear it was built to be affordable first.
All of that combined meant that for the first time in a long time, I could safely leave the sector alone for a week and not have it all burn down around me. Incredible, I know.
Once aboard the Vigil, I was given my own private quarters. Honestly, they were larger than my regular quarters. Officers live well, I suppose.
Regardless, I settled in quickly, taking the time to review my thesis and presentation. Mugwuffin found a nice spot with a window view and Myr'thos had taken residence next door. I could only imagine the kitchen staff would be terrorized in the coming days as they tore the place apart for ingredients.
Myr'thos's obsession with making the perfect drink was…odd. Especially given that the perfect drink already existed.
I took a sip from my thermos and sighed in contentment. Perfection. If the Jedi had this, they never would've fallen.
–
Coruscant was many things. Big, glittery, noisy, rich. But above all…
"This place is a shithole." I said plainly, staring out the window of the Imperial Hotel in the Imperial Center. Naming geniuses, this lot.
"Oh? You are not in utter amazement at the grandest center of the galaxy, peasant? Maybe you have some hope yet if you are not enthralled by its seductive beauty."
Myr'thos's voice was as smoothly grating as ever.
"Yeah, well it's kind of hard to be enthralled by the single biggest concentration of corruption ever made. Honestly, I'm surprised this entire planet isn't a darkside nexus already."
"Hah! Oh, there was once a plan for something like that. Those fools on the Dark Council never went through with it, though." Myr'thos laughed as they plopped down onto the rooms couch, sinking into velvety cushions that probably cost more than a TIE.
And funnily enough, that was a statement to this hotel's affordability. In order to keep up appearances as a Moff, I had little choice than to stay at a hotel such as the Imperial. Sure, this was one of its cheapest rooms but it was still absurdly expensive. Thankfully, we'd only be here a few days at best.
"Now, peasant. I'm famished. If this establishment is as exquisite as it claims, it should have premium dining, no?"
I wanted to sigh, but my stomach growled instead. "Fine, I guess I could do with a bite. And that restaurant did seem pretty nice, like, no prices on the menu. Might as well."
It didn't take long for us to get ready. I just put on a clean uniform, while Myr'thos got out a nice outfit Garp had gifted them.
It was almost a mix of a dress and a formal suit. A clean, simple designed suit and pants with flowing stretches of fabric that stretched to their knees sprouting from the torso. All of it color coordinated in beautiful purples and golds. The suit stretched up their neck, stopping only at the lower portion of their sharp, angular cheeks.
Clearly, they'd noticed me staring as Myr'thos hit a pose. A bodybuilder pose, stretching one arm down before curling it, muscles bulging.
"Stunned, mensch? Of course you are, for I am worthy of no less!"
I raised an eyebrow. "Stunned by the quality. What bet did Garp lose for him to make you this?"
"The tailor gifted this piece to me for free, as a return for allowing him to gaze upon my beauty!" They said. My eyebrow went higher, and they coughed a bit. "And I may have sabotaged his competition…just a tad."
"Huh. Didn't know Garp had it in him." It was then that Mugwuffin came sauntering into the room. The little lizard had somehow, someway, gotten ahold of an outfit. A tiny tuxedo of sorts, far too well made to be anything but a custom job.
I stared at her. She stared at me. We both stared for at least a minute before I gave up and just turned away. Sometimes, acceptance is the only way forward.
"Now, cur, escort me forward! Now is the time for elegance, grace, glamor! And such glamor demands that you show favor towards the best of those here." Myr'thos exclaimed, holding an arm out for me to link with.
"Hah! No." Then I turned, making way to the door. Behind me, I could hear Mugwuffin snorting in her strange, lizard-like laughter.
"You lowly creature! Honorless cur, one must respect their superiors!"
"I pay you." Was my only response.
–
Somehow, we made it to the restaurant without causing a scene.
Surprisingly, we weren't turned away because of Myr'thos not being human. Nor because of Mugwuffin being, well Mugwuffin.
The staff themselves were all aliens. Many being twilek's of both sexes. Sex sells, after all, even in an establishment this upscale.
It also helped that I was an Imperial Moff, my simple uniform holding the colored pips indicating my status.
Once we were seated at a booth, menus were quickly given. The noise of the establishment was higher than I'd have expected from a place such as this, but the ambiance seemed worth it.
Not a single price tag, so I could only assume I'd be paying a light freighter worth for whatever we ordered. Internally, I winced at the idea. Sure, I had a much higher salary now, but I was still a miser at heart.
Ordering was an ordeal in and of itself. I chose some sort of steak, and Myr'thos grilled the server on the drinks for nearly 15 minutes. But Mugwuffin decided that she just had to order for herself. Nevermind the fact she wasn't trying to hide that she was fully intelligent and could read. She spent another 15 minutes playing charades with the server to communicate exactly how she wanted her fish prepared.
"At this point, you need to learn to speak Basic, because it's getting ridiculous."
Denial
I sighed. "I'm never taking you two anywhere ever again."
"I have no stake in this conflict, cur. Why must I be included with the likes of this rapscallion!?"
"Because you spent just as long as she did asking about whether they used 2 week or 3 week old orban fruits in their mixes. Obviously the server didn't know!" I resisted the urge to slam my face into my palms, instead turning my focus to my PDA.
On the screen sat my presentation. 32 minutes worth of slides, evidence, and a whole lot of yapping. It was actually severely shortened, as my original had too many details and was closer to 3 hours.
"Reconstructed Institutional Frameworks and Transaction Cost Reduction in Frontier Economies: A Re-examination of Pre-Imperial Development Models Using Contemporary Evidence from the Myto Sector", it was called. The pre-Imperial developmental models mentioned were things I found after creating the Guild, funnily enough.
Of course, in 25 thousand years of history, others in the Republic had come up with similar ideas. Once I went looking for them, I found plenty of examples. Most pretty local, with few ever going up to the sector level and rarely staying there for long. The combination of outer rim backwater and total Imperial autocratic control gave me the perfect testbed, apparently.
"This presentation of yours, how certain are you of victory? Your fear has been so obvious, to miss it would be to somehow miss the storms of Dromund Kaas." Myr'thos asked, elbows propped on the table as they leaned forward. The din of the restaurant was lower now, and their voice lowered with it.
"There isn't a 'victory' here, Myr'thos. That implies a conflict to be won. And no, I'm not super confident. I don't think I'll do poorly, but this is the University of Coruscant. They work on a different level, you know."
"You are engaging in a thesis defense. Therefore, you are in a battle of wits, meaning victory is achievable." They said, taking a sip of their complimentary water before spitting it out. "Not nearly filtered enough. Pathetic."
"...ok, point. However, it's a discussion on economic systems and how those I've constructed back home function. If this were a military discussion on, say, the functioning of the Arbiter-Class, or an intelligence discussion on the effectiveness of the Auditor program, then maybe 'victory' would be more applicable. But given it's not, I still don't think it fits."
Before Myr'thos can continue this banal argument, we both notice something. The restaurant which had previously been filled with the din of diners and servants was now hushed, almost silent.
Looking around, I found the source.
A woman wearing a striking dress, pure white contrasted with deep red. It was a harsh, jagged design, all angles and not a single piece of fabric left to flow freely.
Her appearance was more than that, however. Her hair was dyed, the front portion that framed her face a white so natural looking it was as though only those hairs had decided to age. Her face itself was pale, but not in an unhealthy fashion. A strong jaw and few wrinkles told me she either used plenty of products or was on the younger side.
Given we were on Coruscant, my money was on a 200 year old lady who kept herself looking 30 through the blood of orphans or something equally heinous.
But it was her eyes that caught the most attention. One blue, the other red. Both sharp, intelligent, almost predatory.
Especially since they were staring at me.
Off to the side, I saw the server coming back around with our food before he spotted her. For some reason, he decided to back away.
Was there something wrong with the food? Shit, maybe they were more speciest than I thought. Is a Moffs badge not enough to dissuade them?
By then, the woman had reached our table. From the coiling in their shoulders, Myr'thos seemed ready to pounce. Or worse, say something too heinous to ever leave an online lobby. I gave them a light kick under the table, one that was returned with such swiftness and ferocity I was fairly certain I heard something break.
Still, it worked to keep them quiet, and I bottled my pain deep inside as I turned to the new arrival.
"Ah, hello there. Can I help you with something, Miss?"
She quirked an eyebrow, though if it was curiosity or annoyance I couldn't tell. Her face was so neutral it might've been carved from marble.
"You're not from around here, are you good sir." She said simply, though the undertone was clear. She was someone who expected answers.
"Well, I was born here. My family moved to the outer rim when I was young, and this is the first time I've been back in many years."
"Hmmm. An Outer Rim Moff then? Which sector?"
"The Myto Sector. Up in the Northern Dependencies, Bright Jewel Oversector." She was starting to get on my nerves, now. I wasn't one for ego or pride, even with my office. But she was just plain rude! Hadn't even introduced herself.
Before I can ask her name, she barrels forward. "You mentioned an Auditor program. I wasn't aware the Treasury had designated their Auditors as part of a 'program'."
"Oh, they haven't. As Moff, I created my own local program to train Auditors whose task it is to audit individual systems and planets within my sector. They work to keep Governors honest, and encourage clean ledgers all around. In fact, productivity and tax payouts have risen nearly 10% since they started working, though–"
She held a hand up, and I stopped talking. Again, rude of her, but I was going on something of a tangent so I let it slide.
Can you blame me? No one ever asks me questions about these things, and I really like talking about it!
"I see. Good day, Moff."
From there, she walked off, posture and gait perfect as though the eyes on her were meaningless. At the exit a pair of red armored stormtroopers met her, hulking forms larger than normal.
"You allowed her to simply walk over your work, fool. It is clear you lack the pride needed to lead." Myr'thos grumbled, as the server finally arrived.
Shaky hands delivered platters of fine smelling cuisine, and I handed the man a 150 credit tip.
All the while, I tried not to slam my food into Myr'thos's face.
"Look, not being rude to people is social behavior rule #1, you know."
"Rules are for the weak!" They grumbled, taking a sniff and then tentative sip of their drink. "And these orban fruits are only two and half weeks old, they need to be fermented for longer! By the Force, this planet never ceases to disappoint.
Mugwuffin also made a show of snobbily picking at her plate, clawed hands using utensils to poke and prod at a fish a quarter her size that she'd never finish. Finally, she abandoned any pretenses and started shoving the entire thing into her gullet.
I sighed and looked down at my food. Maybe I could finish my meal before I die of embarrassment.
Oh, who am I kidding.
–
Yulitra Zantara
Sector General
Myto Sector
Cril System
Criloptima
"Please, this way General. We have an observation room waiting."
The man's voice was low, with a positive tilt to it. The kind you only heard when someone was pandering to you, or trying to sell you something.
In Yulitra's case, it was both.
The observation room was a lavish thing. Soft seats, snacks plated on expensive, hand carved tables. To one side sat an array of drinks, chilled to perfect and ready to be poured.
It was clear that Cril Robotics and Automotive Ballistics was pandering, and pandering hard. She could understand why, if nothing else.
The Cril system was on the rise, trying to compete with the industrial heavy hitters like Belladoon, Destora and Artorias. A few larger companies had scored contracts with larger merchant concerns and mercenary companies. And now the largest was trying to score a military contract.
If not for her schedule being clearer these days, she would've refused. As it stands, the Moff was insistent on ensuring that higher ups such as herself got around. No holing up in her office all day.
If he wasn't her superior, she'd call him the biggest hypocrite this side of the mid rim. Considering what he was like, she might just get away with doing it too.
Regardless, as she sat down, enjoying the plushness as her one escape from the buffoonery, the company CEO entered.
"Lawrence B. Ster, madam General, at your service." He said, voice rushed.
Lawrence was a large man, his suit straining to contain his bulk. His skin seemed a perpetual shade of red, as though he was constantly sunburnt.
"I say, it is an honor to have you here, madam. I surely hope you are pleased with our newest product demonstration." He continued, pulling at the collar of his suit as though it were strangling him.
"I hope so as well, Mr. Ster." She replied simply, already turning back out the observation window.
Outside was the flat, grey expanse of the company's test yard. A series of obstacles and targets had been placed about at various intervals, creating a simple test course.
The testee itself kneeled not far from the observation deck itself. A bipedal walker of some kind, swarmed by support staff.
"Ah, our company's pride and joy! I say, it's quite the machine. The Tactical Unit for Next-gen Armor is its name. A bit of a mouthful, but that can always be changed. Why, my father always said…"
She'd tuned him out at this point, eyes scanning the machine itself.
It was large, larger than a LECA at least. A LECA stood at around 3 meters tall. This was at least 10 meters tall. That's a meter taller than an AT-ST.
The next thing she noticed was its armor. Or seeming lack thereof. Oh sure, there was the appearance of armor, metal covering the frame. But she'd been in the industry of war her whole life. She knew what armor, real armor looked like.
This seemed like a cheap imitation.
"...and on the shoulders sit our proprietary folding laser cannon technology. They provide potent anti-armor firepower without burdening the hands! I say, those eggheads down in R&D are right geniuses they are! Now watch, the test is set to begin."
The walker stood from its position as support staff scurried from its frame. As it activated, lights across its torso seemed to activate in sync. They blinked on, one by one up the frame until finally its eyes blazed to life in a baleful green.
"I say I say, if this doesn't terrify those pirates into submission on the spot, I don't know what will!"
The frame turned towards the obstacle course, crouching down into a runners pose. Yulitra leaned forward. The armor might've been a fluke, perhaps. Or a stopgag measure. But if this thing could deadsprint, at its size?
The possibilities were potent, to say the least.
Thrusters flared blue as the walker burst into a sprint. Its armored feet slamming into the pavement while its arms pumped up and down.
Yulitra's mind raced with analysis. The applications were-
On the fourth step, a laser cannon fell off.
On the fifth, an arm popped from its socket, crashing to the ground.
On the sixth, both legs seemingly decided to disconnect at the same time.
As the frame's torso slammed into the ground, Yulitra slowly turned her head towards Lawrence.
If the man was red before, now he was scarlet. She wasn't aware a human being could produce that much sweat. Maybe he was a near-human of some kind?
"I-i say, I say, that is…" He took a gulp of air, pulling on his collar so hard she could hear a slight tear. "...t-that is absolutely not an a-accurate representation of our company's prowess! Why, I never seen such a sight, and I swear to you–wait, w-where are you going!?"
Yulitra was already walking out of the room by the time he noticed.
She walked the entire 15 minute walk back to her shuttle with Lawrence on her tail, trying his very best to both keep up, breathe properly, and somehow explain his way out of this mess.
–
She wasn't of the belief he had any way of salvaging this.
His desperate pleas only stopped once the shuttle doors had closed. She breathed the tiniest
sigh of relief, glad to have escaped his buffonnery.
She took a seat, settling into the rigid yet nostalgic seat of the Nu-Class shuttle. An Old Republic keepsake she'd manage to keep, even with the Empires general disdain towards symbols of its past.
Sure, the Moff had his fancy, out of production Incom executive shuttle, and the Sector Admiral never flew in anything smaller than a Sentinel. But the Nu-Class was just different. Though, if she could've managed one, she'd still be flying around in an LAAT.
Once her shuttle was back in the air, she took to her PDA to check her schedule.
She had a meeting with her staff in a few hours on the general readiness of sector forces which she was not looking forward too. While she';d tried to cultivate an inner staff of professionals, some fools slipped through the cracks. But the information gathering was ongoing, and a purge was being prepared. She just had to be patient.
The one after that was on the pirate situation. These had been getting shorter and shorter as things improved, which was a good thing. Not because the piracy was getting better, though that was a reason, but because the first few were over 3 hours long.
Finally, a meeting with other Sector Administrators on the plans for the Academies.
Frankly speaking, at least half of the meetings on her calendar for the next few days wouldn't be there if the Moff was still in the sector.
Regardless, at least the Academies were finally seeing change. Yulitra was lucky enough that ground troops of decent training were more plentiful than crewmen, or else she might've been stuck with idiots all the way down like Veers was.
She pitied Veers. 18 lost ships in 6 months would be bad attrition during wartime, but peacetime? Awful.
An alert on her PDA refocused her attention. A message from one of her secretaries. And yes, she had multiple. The Moff was just enough of a workaholic to barely leave enough work for one.
Anyways, she'd been forwarded a message from another Cril based company. An invitation to view one of their products, in the hopes of winning a contract.
They even sent ahead a dossier on their product. How thoughtful.
Opening it, she was greeted with a walker.
A TIE walker.
Yulitra turned off her PDA and resisted the urge to fling it against the shuttle wall.
She failed.
–
So I figured various companies sector wide would see the success and spread of the LECA and try to copy it, or make their own, better version. Some would, of course, try. And fail, as this company did.
Maybe others will succeed in the future in one way or another, but this company certainly didn't. I'm of the opinion that people in all industries try to copy trends, even in something as serious as the military industrial complex. Whether they ride the wave or drown is up to them.
I'll admit, I've been watching some Legends of Avantris and Jean Claude stuck with me a tad, which is why Lawrence was tossing out "I say!" as much as he was.
Other than that, sorry for the delay. I got sick for the entire week of spring break and it sucked balls. Then I got sucked into the delightful game of Pragmata, while sick. So all in all it was not a feel good week for me.
Did cook though. Fried chicken breaded with lays chips. Burnt like half of em cause I put too much oil and was not on top of timing things. Still turned out aight, though I lament my current lack of cumin/paprika.
Also made a chocolate lava cake, or tried too. I didn't have chocolate bars, only cocoa powder, so I had to make do with less of a cake and more of just the lava part with some cake-like bits mixed in. It still tasted great, but it's cake so that's expected.
And I'm begging, praying to god ya'll catch the puns I made this chapter. I'm real proud of em.
Well well well, if it isn't the consequences of my actions…
-Freefaller
CreepyUncleLuke
Superior Shut-In
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What. The entire point of the LECA was that is could fit into doctrine easily, without massive refits needed to troop carriers. It's practically a large Power Armour to support the troops.
Why would these idiots make one that is 3x the size and think it would succeed lmao.
Frater Astrotechnicus
All praise Clippy
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That better not have been good old iceheart
Blackmagic1
Not too sore, are you?
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While the execution of both those was horrible if you could rework something like the Tie Walker but less retarded you could create a LAM "land air mech" which if kept to a reasonable size could be a major boost not only to army but logistics.
Battle_Unit_3
Not too sore, are you?
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"There is a Grant in my walls!" - Las Mola probably
Surprised they didnt steal the Crab design from Battletech. Both types
Wow that chick was a total bitch, surely she isnt some higher up who will cause trouble later
Crab.
Surprised they didnt steal the Crab design from Battletech. Both types
Wow that chick was a total bitch, surely she isnt some higher up who will cause trouble later
Battle_Unit_3
Not too sore, are you?
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Bigger means Better for thr smoothbrains, though I am interested in that folding laser cannon technology.
Abba is the best
Versed in the lewd.
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Damn he doesnt know how dangerous a situation he is in... isard is not someone you want paying attention to you
Zecevic081
Know what you're doing yet?
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Dread it, run from it. The one size fits all policy always arrives.
Rogos
Not too sore, are you?
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This part is weird. Did you maybe skip a few lines ? Because the unknown woman says Las mentioned an Auditor program, but he did no such thing.
Sam I Am
Versed in the lewd.
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I didn't know who she was. I looked it up. She's the fucking Director of ImpInt. The Director... of the Imperial Intelligence Service.
Las is the unluckiest-lucky person in the entire Galaxy.
At least it seems like she doesn't want to kill his ass? That's a silver lining!
Abba is the best
Versed in the lewd.
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She is as likely to kill you as she is to use you for her own plans... all those options are downright dangerous for him in the long run considering he just admited to making a non-infiltrated non-politically-aligned organization of auditors in his region.... that is not good for him.
AldariSiradla
Spirit Boy, Police Girl
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Gods, we have little miss incompetence here now.
Take note, girlie, because we have a dude that does better work that you and your damned office!
Send in your people, woman!
And behold them breaking away from your grip for better prospects, better pay, and actual fucking respect!
I see a walker...
And I nod.
Let the Mad Science continue!
Take note, girlie, because we have a dude that does better work that you and your damned office!
Send in your people, woman!
And behold them breaking away from your grip for better prospects, better pay, and actual fucking respect!
I see a walker...
And I nod.
Let the Mad Science continue!
DeusFerreus
Things and stuff.
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Lapiver
Making the rounds.
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Just make the first one a bit slower, reinforce the armor/joints, put actual working weapons on and give it shield emitters. It is certainly big enough to fit them.
Now you have a proper firing platform, that can tank hits and give you more firesupport than an AT-ST.
Just a question of the price. Doubt it is something the wider Empire would adopt.
Watching
Not too sore, are you?
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He's able to get from the edge of the galaxy to the capital in just 10-11 days? Thought it'd be longer.
Imperial officers in the walls? Myto sector just gets weirder and weirder the longer Las is in charge of it.
What's its updated stats and armaments look like?
Huh, so who was this women las spoke to? The crazy cultist in charge of intelligence maybe?
Might make an ok cheap civilian forklift but little else.
There were puns?
readsalot
Experienced.
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heh
Yacov
I trust you know where the happy button is?
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Las threats of death and imprisonment are the norm in the Empire. You are basically threatening to send them to their rooms without supper.
Yeah turns out having a bunch of brainwashed people doing independent actions like piracy didn't really have much chance for success without the guiding hand. No matter how big their guns.
Oooh, looks nice. Between this, the Arbiter, and the novel starfighter, Las' navy is going to be able to field fleets of just Myto designs.
Let the Sith hyperfocus. It stops them from thinking about killing sprees.
No wonder no one realizes they are a Sith when they dress like that. It is all black armor and robes these days.
Garp has now used the Sith Bioweapon for more sinister purposes than Las has in the past few months.
I am trying to resist making a Monkey in a Suit joke. I am failing.
Looks at her torture dungeon/flagship. Not far off the mark Las.
Oh no it's a superior! Quick Las! Deploy talking about tax accounting! Okay her eyes are glazing over I think you are safe.
Somehow this is worse than Tarkin. At least Tarkin would make it quick.
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Talimancer2
Not too sore, are you?
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Unfortunately 'Land Air Mechs' are just an inherently terrible idea
Felius
Experienced.
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The Empire already uses AT-STs and other light(ish) walkers, so it's not like they'd be breaking completely new ground.
But yeah, definitely not a LECA replacement; But they might be inspired by or use the LECA's technologies and methods to achieve whatever they are supposed to achieve.
Edit:
Being fair here, if you can achieve (limited) flight with little weight and volume, adding it to a mech might be definitely worth it; Not to make it a makeshift fighter craft or the like, but it's a pretty massive improved mobility for the mech; But that's what it still is and should still be: A mech, if one capable of flying;
Dedicated flyers should be dedicated flyers.
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Inbredmartian
Not too sore, are you?
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So ISB IRS auditor program inbound huh. God damn it Las
Talimancer2
Not too sore, are you?
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That's a big if, and even then it'd probably turn your mech into a slow flying target. You're also forgetting expense, and trying to find something light, low volume and cheap that is even remotely effective will be rather difficult to say the least.
Obscurum per Oeconomicus
TheManW/oAPlan
Getting sticky.
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- 983
(((OOC, not my best omake but an Imperial Spy would definitely overthink the conversation. Watch Las fail upwards!)))
The young lady in red and white sighed. She had been hoping to get more out of the Moff. She had expected bad pick up lines, expected him to boast about his sector's military strength, but he chose to discuss taxation policy. Even if he was not attracted to her, he should have been more willing to talk to her about something less benign. After all, everyone should knew who she was. As much as she sometimes hated the fact that her heterochromia gave her away in field work, it was undoubtedly useful in being noticed. She had expected asking for favors, asking for a date, maybe asking to be left alone, but he had done none of those. He was completely nonplussed and wanted to discuss economics. Pulling up the dossier on the Moff, she noticed that he intended to focus almost to an absurd amount on economics, and generally let other people handle the other aspects of his sector. Though the presence of non-humans in nearly all corners of his administration was alarming, his focus on economics did bear fruit.
She then realized something. He was talking to well known Imperial intelligence agent about economics. What was he trying to tell her about? Granted, she generally did not care much about the administrative aspects of her work but perhaps that was a mistake. Pulling up a spreadsheet, she began to cross check the reports with the treasury reports. She frowned. While she had expected some discrepancies, she had not expected to find them that quickly. She was not a forensic accountant, so if this was what a cursory review did, perhaps she should bring this up the chain. A week later, she was in formal military dress kneeling before his Imperial majesty.
"Your highness, I am concerned with some of our accounting numbers. A moff brought it to my attention, and I believe he is correct to be concerned. As such, I would reque -" Palpatine raised is hand. She stopped talking.
"You are a faithful servant. You have earned enough trust that if you believe something should be looked into, it should be looked into. What specifically do you require of me?" Palpatine requested.
"My lord, clearly the man is an economic savant. He has somehow governed a backwater of a planet into a productive one and his sector appears to be undergoing the same transformation. Given his esteemed rank and loyalty, I thought it would be best if you order him to do an audit for the benefit of the Empire," she explained.
"Granted. You are dismissed," the Emperor ordered.
Three weeks later, in the Moff's office...
"What do you mean I am doing an audit of the entire Empire!" Las yelled.
"The order comes from the Emperor himself. Apparently you impressed someone on your last trip to Imperial Center." Zyx commented.
"Is there any way to get out of this?" Las aswked.
"Sorry bro. The orders came from the Emperor himself. Sometimes the reward for good work is more work," Zyx replied.
"But I wanted to take a vacation..." Las whined.
The young lady in red and white sighed. She had been hoping to get more out of the Moff. She had expected bad pick up lines, expected him to boast about his sector's military strength, but he chose to discuss taxation policy. Even if he was not attracted to her, he should have been more willing to talk to her about something less benign. After all, everyone should knew who she was. As much as she sometimes hated the fact that her heterochromia gave her away in field work, it was undoubtedly useful in being noticed. She had expected asking for favors, asking for a date, maybe asking to be left alone, but he had done none of those. He was completely nonplussed and wanted to discuss economics. Pulling up the dossier on the Moff, she noticed that he intended to focus almost to an absurd amount on economics, and generally let other people handle the other aspects of his sector. Though the presence of non-humans in nearly all corners of his administration was alarming, his focus on economics did bear fruit.
She then realized something. He was talking to well known Imperial intelligence agent about economics. What was he trying to tell her about? Granted, she generally did not care much about the administrative aspects of her work but perhaps that was a mistake. Pulling up a spreadsheet, she began to cross check the reports with the treasury reports. She frowned. While she had expected some discrepancies, she had not expected to find them that quickly. She was not a forensic accountant, so if this was what a cursory review did, perhaps she should bring this up the chain. A week later, she was in formal military dress kneeling before his Imperial majesty.
"Your highness, I am concerned with some of our accounting numbers. A moff brought it to my attention, and I believe he is correct to be concerned. As such, I would reque -" Palpatine raised is hand. She stopped talking.
"You are a faithful servant. You have earned enough trust that if you believe something should be looked into, it should be looked into. What specifically do you require of me?" Palpatine requested.
"My lord, clearly the man is an economic savant. He has somehow governed a backwater of a planet into a productive one and his sector appears to be undergoing the same transformation. Given his esteemed rank and loyalty, I thought it would be best if you order him to do an audit for the benefit of the Empire," she explained.
"Granted. You are dismissed," the Emperor ordered.
Three weeks later, in the Moff's office...
"What do you mean I am doing an audit of the entire Empire!" Las yelled.
"The order comes from the Emperor himself. Apparently you impressed someone on your last trip to Imperial Center." Zyx commented.
"Is there any way to get out of this?" Las aswked.
"Sorry bro. The orders came from the Emperor himself. Sometimes the reward for good work is more work," Zyx replied.
"But I wanted to take a vacation..." Las whined.
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