Governor's Gambit - Star Wars SI into Imperial Governor

[Orangeduke38]

I can see this resulting in a future where the Myto-sector ends up becoming the economic heartland of the Imperial Remnant to the despair of Moff Las Mola, while the Braxant-sector ends up as it's political center with both sectors ending up producing the most elite Troopers and Officers of the Imperial forces. I can see a future where starship production on all levels and the best Naval Officers and Ratings comes from Myto, while the best Ground Officers and Troopers come from the Braxant-sector and because the Myto-sector ends up having the most shipyards they instead pivot towards the production of better Ground warfare equipment and vehicles.

Click to shrink...

Even though the Guild and Mola has expanded the industrial sector by a couple orders of magnitude its still a bit player on the galactic stage the only thing that will gradually change that is the former Rothana yards. Even locally Velcar industrially outstrips the entire Guild by multiple orders of magnitude. Its industrial abilities are only really a thing because trade has been gutted and its near the bottom for supply priority. Can they now do plenty of things? Yes, but most of that is still held together with shoestrings and would fall to pieces if they had a conventional fight on their hands. Our local academies will probably become locally known for selling seats to pdf soldiers and officers from tiny worlds without their own but even establishing good enlisted training facilities will take a long time. It also wouldn't surprise me if the Empire has corralled most of the officer training into the Core so it can be better controlled.

 

[Yacov]

Omake: Overpopulation Mitigation Two-Parter

Omake #1: Squattie Scrapple

POV: Favau Nus, Twi'lek Street Food Seller, River Squat, Felteos, Myto Sector

"Scrapple! Come get your scrapple here! Hot and cheap!"

Favau's calls rang out in the pre-dawn, hoping to catch the attention of her fellow Squatties meandering about in their pre-work routines. Splashes and drips were a constant background of the Squat that had become her home. The marshy public land down river of Felteos' capital city had been selected to become available for occupation for the refugees that were being diverted here every month. Partly out of the Governor's "magnanimity". Partly because the ground was too wet and unstable for permanent structures without significant investment. Keeps the Squattie labor close by without taking up any truly valuable land for future developments.

Many of her fellow Squatties no doubt would probably have preferred to continue on to Dubrillion, the old sector capital, just a few systems further down the Veragi Trade Route. The more developed a planet was, the better the social services they would be able to take advantage of was the hope. At least a food and water shortage would be unlikely to ever be a concern with that amount of people and importance. However recent sector policy has encouraged the destitute, both internal and external, to move to lower population worlds to facilitate economic development. When the galaxy went to the Rancors, the waves of incoming refugees got put through the same system.

"Hey there Favau! How's my favorite Twi'lek? Keeping your head above water after getting plopped down in this runoff of a Squat?"

Refugee convoys that arrived to a major world in Myto without the proper documentation were offered a small escort and a new destination along with a bit of compensation to the captains for the inconvenience. Most captains took the deal rather than argue with the sector authorities and risk potentially losing their compensation and ending up in the red for the trip. That meant people without a flimsitrail got diverted from landing at the developed worlds and instead were sent to a frontier worlds to "find their fortune". Sometimes these new destinations would not have the resources to prepare for such a glut of new migrants, which would lead to Squats like the one Favau lived in to spring up. There were even wild rumors of Squats being built on the roofs of buildings for extra housing on some worlds.

Temporary housing in Favau's Squat was typically about a dozen square meters per person built on top of some discarded or donated synthecrete out of pieces of bi-state memory plastic, local foliage, tarp, and scrap metal. Interiors tended to have a portable water jug, some small appliances and a light or two hooked up to a battery, a few pieces of fiber-grown furniture, a collection of unreturned cans from the Daily Ration for storage or a makeshift alarm system, and a collection of plastene cutlery. Most slept on cots sold cheap by the government so they can keep above any water that leaks in. Not exactly a secure place to store physical valuables, but most either acquired a lockbox, installed a simple lock in the possible entrances, or get a sealable pot, stash it in a remote part of the river a ways away where someone was unlikely to stumble upon it, and put a large rock on top.

Permanent housing was being built elsewhere allowing Squatties to apply for a place, return their public lot in the Squat to the government, and receive a small amount of compensation for any development they did on it. The stream of refugees meant the Squat was populated and the government always had folks looking to be put in the empty lot. Only the truly desperate or those being hunted by the Empire lacked a bed and some small comforts in a Squat.

"Doing pretty well for myself Keego. At least the water where we live is running instead of being stagnant."

Situation was still better than her old DuraShelter in her tent settlement along a defunct sewer line back on Hylkytavara. Less scrutiny from the Empire but a lot of folks were sleeping in literal gutter water. No one needed to fill out flimsiwork to pitch up a tent there if one paid the protection fees, but there was little incentive for those topside to give them anything more than scraps and contempt. Yet for all that supposed freedom all it took was one wacko with a flame jar and the Empire was putting the boot down before the smoldering stopped. Luckily she was able to drain her savings to hop on a passing freighter out of the Quelii sector that was heading along the Salin Corridor before war on the "Revolt" was officially declared.

From there it was just a matter of linking up with one of the refugee convoys heading down the Veragi route into Myto. The convoy's plan was to hide on plain sight as a small merchant flotilla after crossing the sector border hoping they could make it past the few systems to reach Dubrillion. Unfortunately the convoy got caught by Mytoan authorities almost immediately after jumping into Quintaxus. Captains elected to take the compensation and divert to make their passengers Felteos' problem to deal with. None of the refugees saw even a single Credit from the captains for the convoy failing to reach its intended destination. Captains promised they would take them to Myto and they met that goal as far as they were concerned.

It wasn't like the Felteos' government left the Squatties completely on their own. Water tanks were installed so the Squat can fill their jugs with clean water for home use instead of dirty river water. Still don't have public power lines, but the government had a building with publicly accessible fusion generators and subsidized small solar panels on sale to charge their batteries so they could keep their appliances and lights at home on. Raised bridges made getting around safer and relatively drier. Even had public transit in the form of a speederboat service to bring Squatties from the slums into the city proper for work or other business. The driver was in an armored cage to prevent hijacking of course.

"Great, mind if get some scrapple? Construction work is going to wear me out and I want to save my Daily Ration from the Community Commissary for dinner."

Keego was eyeing the meaty slice like a starving gutkurr as it slapped on the plate. Squatties like him made the scrapple business survive well enough. Folks didn't want to eat nothing but the bland Daily Ration and the Commissary's prices stopped being generous once they felt you had met your nutritional needs for the day. Some workplaces didn't even have something to heat up food, so folks would eat the jellied shaak cold on what Processed Grain Unit they got for the day. Course some swear it tastes better that way, but Favau considered them crazy.

Either way, it gave room for peddlers like Favau to earn some Credits selling fresh food to keep their lights on. Plenty of peddlers chose to forgo applying for housing in the prefabs so they could stay close to their clientele. Moving to a new neighborhood was a hassle, and there was no guarantee that they could build up a social network that could match the one she had now. Case in point Keego slapping down a few Credits before snatching up the plate before digging in.

"Really tearing into that aren't ya? Going to need more than some jellied shaak and nutritive milk to keep your strength up earning a living. Unlike the jelly, my scrapple is always hot and has never seen a can."

Squatties earned their Credits either by peddling, constructing yet more prefabricated housing to keep the Squats from growing out of control, working in one of the outlying farms, doing day labor gigs posted by the IGCPP, courier work, or getting a service job in one of the city's businesses. If the Governor hadn't redirected the droids to other industries, unemployment in the Squats would be even higher. Probably got a tax break from the Moff for it, but it was still appreciated. Certainly beat the mudlarking most of her neighbors did to feed themselves back on Hylkytavara.

Favau had kept herself out of the muck back then by buying up old vegetables from restaurants topside for resale down below, so getting back into the peddling business here wasn't too hard. Government set up a place for small loans so she didn't need to try find any loan sharks. Next they wanted her to show she knew how to not poison people and then gave her a fancy hunk of metal and permission to start selling. From there it was a matter of scrounging up a plate that heated up well and sourcing the ingredients. One of her friends got work in a slaughterhouse which gave her an in for some cheap unused meat. After that she just needed some buckwheat from the Commissary and she was open for business. As Keego handed back the plate she noticed a poorly wrapped bandage underneath one of his sleeves.

"Hey Keego, what's that you got on your shoulder? Didn't run afoul of a patrol of Orderlies did ya? Maybe should hit up the clinic before it festers."

The Orderkeeper Program was Myto's answer to places like the Squats. Round up some of the new arrivals that they think they could trust, put em through an accelerated training program, and send em out with a local sergeant to watch em keep the other new arrivals in line. Apparently that trust didn't extend to giving em lethal weaponry, so the chance of death by the law was limited. Those that thought that made them soft were swiftly corrected by a sap glove wrapped fist to the face.

The squads of Orderlies weren't too bothersome. Didn't ask for bribes or charge arbitrary fines like the gangs that ran protection back at the tent settlement. Kept things stable so Favau hadn't needed to use her shiv for more than a showpiece on a few occasions. Orderlies seemed to be paid well enough that they followed the Governor's policy of treating the Squats with the light hand. If the things started getting out of hand, the government still could pump out swarms of Orderlies or send in the heavier guns. It was in everyone's interest in the Squats to make sure that need never arose. Too many stories around here of what happens when the Empire felt irritated.

"Nah, just a scrape from work yesterday. Didn't notice it until I got back to the Squat. Was going to catch an earlier boat and spend the extra Credits to go to one of the fancier clinics in the capital. Just to make sure.

Speaking of keeping order. You hear the Empire making a right mess of things over in the Gaulus sector? Apparently Ryloth made a big fuss and the Empire is stamping down a lot harder than usual. Might be getting a lot more Twi'leks on Felteos in the near future."

For void's sake. Favau needs Twi'leks from Ryloth like she needs a leak in her roof. Her parents left all those decades ago to get away from all that turmoil and slavery. Last thing she needs is people bringing old and new grudges into her Squat. Especially if it is another fanatic with a flame jar looking to fight for against the Empire, this time screaming about a "Free Ryloth". That would put a target on her back for her Lekku alone if nothing else. She had a good thing going here and didn't want to see another home burned to the ground.

Still, maybe she is being a bit too pessimistic about this. Lot of these theoretical folks are going to be fleeing from having their homes burned down just like she did. If they can keep their heads down she wouldn't be too opposed to show them the ropes. With some extra hands to help, she can go from selling scrapple in the streets to selling scrapple in her own restaurant.

"Maybe, but that's for future Favau to worry about. Now be off to your fancy clinic so I can get this plate washed for the next customer. Better to make sure there is enough Credits for today than worry about anything that comes next."

——

Omake #2: Orderkeeper Kit

Production information

Manufacturer: IGCPP

Type: Infantry/law enforcement kit

Nicknames: Orderlies, Bully Boys, Swarmers, Stormtroopers Without a Budget

Cost: 1,200 Credits

Technical information

Articles:

• Blast vest (250 Credits)
• Running boots (30 Credits)
• Easy Breathing breath mask (50 Credits)
• Plastene shirt and pants (30 Credits)
• 1 pair of SC-401 stun cuffs (100 Credits)
• 2 pairs of Biodegradable Binders (150 Credits)
• Nacht-5 smoke grenade (25 Credits)
• Padded hat or cap in the style of the precinct's choosing (50 Credits)
• Earbud comlink (200 Credits)
• Sap gloves (50 Credits)
• DEMP Ion Pistol (250 Credits)
• Stun baton (15 credits)

Additional Equipment

• Various simple utility tools (25 Credits)

Usage

Availability: Licensed

Role:

• Cheap and mass producible law enforcement kit
• Keeping order within newly founded settlements and refugee camps
• Allow Governors to deploy a show of force and presence without the costs involved in deploying a Stormtrooper garrison

Affiliation:

• Low rank Imperial law enforcement
• Deputized refugees, migrants, and local poor
• The poorer sections of settlements
• Brutish and unsophisticated law enforcement

——

Description
"The Orderkeeper Program. Utilizing your excess of bodies to police itself." - Unused tagline for the Orderkeeper Kit that was scrapped by the IGCPP marketing department for being too blunt.

The Orderkeeper Kit was an equipment kit designed for the Orderkeeper Program. This program was meant to train and deploy new law enforcement personnel as quickly as possible to deal with rapid increases in population. While unpopular, the Program has provided quick injections of manpower to cover up holes in precincts left open by the recent refugee influx.

Design
"A deputized civilian in some Orderkeeper Kit ain't that useful when the blaster bolts start firing, but it is still another set of boots on the beat for the price of a blaster rifle and a few dozen Credits a day. Now if only we didn't have to assign an officer to drag them all around by the earbuds." - A Police Commissioner's private remarks on the Orderkeeper Program.

Focus on an Orderkeeper's equipment was placed in minimizing administrative or logistical delays. The Orderkeeper Kit is kept to minimal cost and lethality to accomplish this. A vast majority of equipment is what a civilian would have access to. The only exception was the DEMP Ion Pistol which is in plentiful supply given its prior use and present obsolescence in the Imperial Army. This exception was made primarily due to droids and their resistance to intimidation tactics.

Despite their relatively lacking firepower, the Orderkeeper Kit places an emphasis on communication, coordination, and survival. Every Orderkeeper is required to wear an earbud comlink and keep in constant contact with their precinct station. The Orderkeeper Program heavily encourages staying in groups and calling for help at the first sign of any potential confrontation. Their blast vests hopefully granting them enough time to notify the wider precinct and their smoke grenades and running boots to escape the danger if they end up in over their heads.

Training
"Yesh, if only there was a way to not have law enforcement cadets not have to do all this firearm and lethal weapon certification. Wait a minute. I have an idea." - Reported instance of the beginning of the Orderkeeper Program. Disputed as libel.

Training and requirements for Orderkeepers was cut down to what was viewed as the bare necessities. Candidates were selected among the civilian population. New arrivals or those without any existing ties to where they will be deployed were preferred. Physical ability tended to be valued over intelligence. Criminal history was a detriment, but not an outright dealbreaker. Education was not much of a factor besides being able to speak clearly and understandably while also being able read and write in Basic.

Orderkeepers have a reputation of being brutish and unsophisticated law enforcement. This reputation exists for a reason, even if it is a bit unfair to the their intelligence. Orderkeepers rarely receive enough training to preform more than the "start shit, get hit" method of maintaining the peace. They are meant primarily to do patrols, stand on street corners, and secure crime scenes while their handlers and detectives from their precinct perform the investigation and other complicated aspects of law enforcement.

This focus on simplicity made the Orderkeeper Program unpopular with Myto Imperial leadership in all but the most under pressure precincts and planets. These expedited deployments also necessitated a more experienced handler be assigned to Orderkeeper patrols to keep a close watch in order to prevent any possible missteps or temptations for malicious behavior.

Conclusion
"Hurry up with that lock! Orderlies will be on us any moment!" - Criminals suffering from the increased law enforcement presence in a refugee camp.

While not effective at more than policing unarmed civilians, the Orderkeeper Program has proven a useful temporary measure when dealing with refugee populations. As the refugee crisis shows no signs of slowing down, the Orderkeeper Program is becoming a more attractive option to patch up holes in law enforcement coverage.

——

A look into the living situation of a frontier world undergoing a bit of overpopulation and the quick and dirty temporary solutions used to mitigate it. Despite Moff Mola's focus on caring for the people, worlds in the Myto sector still only have so much infrastructure and population capacity. So sudden influxes of sentients are likely to still cause emergency housing situations that lead to slums like the Squats forming. Slums aren't exactly going to have restaurants everywhere. Shelf life and nutrition are going to take precedent over things like taste and variety when a government has to feed more people than they planned for. Favau's street food thrives in that variety desert environment. Her customers want something fresh, so are consciously not looking too closely at where she is sourcing the meat.

Inspiration for life in the Squats was a report on squatting and the urban poor in Phnom Penh in Cambodia that was done up in the early oughts. Figured it might be good baseline for slums in Star Wars and Sweet Frak was that a depressing depiction of destitution to read. Then I increased the Squats' access to utilities and social services to make their situation less bleak than its inspiration due to future tech and Moff Mola's policies on social support and anti-corruption. The standard of living for a Squattie is still lesser than an average Mytoan, but it is still possible to survive and better one's lot in life unlike other slums in Star Wars. Because this is the Myto sector where even the slums are less terrible than a lot of the rest of their peers in the galaxy.

As for why Favau doesn't like Ryloth, she actually has never been to the planet. All her biases come from what her parents told her, who had a very strong motivation to trash talk the place to ensure she never tried to visit her homeworld. Her dislike of the Twi'lek Resistance on the other hand. Look I don't want to name names or assign blame. I do not have proof Cham instigated this uprising in a fit of impatient short sighted nationalistic hubris to free Ryloth when he thought he had an opening and got millions of his species killed. However this uprising does sound like one of his plans or at least a plan he and his movement would be fervent and vocal supporters of. "You frakkers tried fighting the Empire, weren't able to back it up, and got us all massacred" may not be a rare view of Cham's movement among Twi'leks right now. Especially with the Twi'lek diaspora outside the sector who are now likely getting targeted for assumed association.

Also the Orderkeepers. Yeah the Orderkeeper Kit and Program started as just a little add-on that ballooned into its own thing making this is a two-parter. I designed the Orderkeepers to provide that wave of bodies that can be deployed to ensure order similar to garrisoning a bunch of Stormtroopers in a city/planet, only with none of the training or budget. This isn't too terrible an idea as Stormtroopers do tend to take a long time to train and eat up substantial amounts of the Imperial budget. Orderkeepers on the other hand are basically equipped like Victorian era British bobbies upgraded to the Star Wars tech level for that retrofuturism look Star Wars likes to have. While they might not be the best alternative to Stormtroopers for peacekeeping, they are cheap and relatively easy to implement on short notice which is a major point in their favor. The main issue is having the infrastructure and personnel to keep a close eye on the Orderkeepers to prevent abuse or corruption. Luckily Stormtrooper doctrine already wrote the book on implementing the needed level of surveillance with decades of practice.

Finally here is the Felteos Daily Ration as a bonus:

The Felteos Daily Ration includes:

• 1 can of Jellied Shaak: Shaak meat broth rendered into jelly with vegetable protein straws encased within. Meant to be one of an average sentient's 2-3 daily meals. Made to be eaten cold or heated back into a liquid meal.
• 1 Processed Grain Unit in canned, bar, or biscuit form.
• 1 serving of nutritive milk in a can
• 1 Gelfruit Bar
• 1 potable water ration in a pouch
• 1 plastene multi-utensil

Alternative options available based on dietary needs of a species. Available at Community Commissaries, food pantries, and precinct cafeterias on Felteos to provide a daily meal for those in need.

Crossposted on QQ and SV

 

[PepeDeLosPalotes]

Thanks for the chapter

 

[Spartanking118]

this is one of my favorite stories. Unfortunately my job makes me unable to sit down and read often. Is there any chance this story could be placed in fanfiction or WebNovel so I could listen to the story while working?

 

[Freefaller]

Chp-126 Interlude

Jir Mola
3.8 ABY
Accordia, Minda

The office was abuzz with energy unlike any Jir had previously seen.

Normally, the Guild office was filled with background chatter. The noise of fingers on keyboards, casual break conversation, and the rushing of the occasionally late worker.

Now, the energy was different. Frantic. The casual conversations became hushed discussions. Keyboards rattled with furious energy. And for once, no one showed up late.

All of this, caused by the Empire's fear.

And that's what it was. Jir knew they would call it caution or strength or something else, but she'd grown up amongst the gangs and syndicates. When the strong grew fearful, they fell back on their strength. They pushed for more.

When one feels threatened, they rely upon what they know to do best. For the Empire, that means cracking down on things.

A part of Jir was worried. For all its relative stability, the chaos of the Guild HQ made it clear the Myto Sector wasn't free of the Empire's foolish endeavors. But then again, there were few places free of such.

Still, she kept a backup plan ready, as always. A false identity had been hard to come by, but thankfully the Guild was generous with its vacation days, and she'd taken some to search for the correct underworld contacts. If need be, Jir could disappear into the Corporate Sector.

"...and your payment will be transferred as usual."

"Does that include the hazard bonus?"

"Correct"

The mercenaries before her grinned. "And the next contract? You got anything for us?"

With a swipe of her fingers on her PDA, the holoprojector between them flashed with dozens of options.

"There are a variety of options for a team of your skillset. Given your team size, composition, and noted skills, these are the best missions available."

One of the mercs, the team leader, scanned the page quickly. His mouth curved into a frown as he did.

"Is this it? We came here expecting better!" His fist slammed into the table between them. Brutish, foolish, but nothing she couldn't handle.

"If you believe yourselves more capable than the Guilds rating system, you may take on a mission above your current rank. However, I am obligated to warn you–"

"Then sign us up already! Get us a better gig!"

The screen changed once more, missions appearing once more. Higher rewards, along with higher danger ratings.

Here the mercenaries cheered. Within a minute they'd picked out a new mission hunting a particularly persistent gang of pirates and left, all of them speculating on what they'd do with their cut of the profits.

With their meeting over, she left the meeting room back to her desk.

Sitting down at her desk, she immersed herself in her work. Reports and statistics were soothing to her. Orderly, predictable, a sense of method to the madness of the sector.

A few minutes later, Melandre sat down at her own desk next to her, sighing in exhaustion.

"These mercs are the worst!" she exclaimed even as she signed a report that Jir recognized as a mission acceptance report.

"They are from outside the sector. The Guild's lowering of requirements has allowed useless riffraff to enter the institution. It is abhorrent."

Melandre sighs again. The tone is different, deeper almost. Jir has heard this sigh before, if rarely. Something akin to grief.

"I…had another team die today." She said, voice smaller. "...third this month. "

With lowering standards and heightened risk came the Guild's loosening of requirements. Now teams could take missions one rank above their own. It helped curb the more dangerous criminal elements now that more guns were pointed their way. It also led to higher death counts.

"They agreed under their own volition, therefore any fault lies with them."

"That doesn't make it right."

Jir glanced at her, and found Melandre frowning deeply and staring at her desk. Strange. She was oftentimes one of the hardest workers of their department.

Did she actually care?

…It didn't matter. Jir knew her position within Melandre's group had been destroyed. Her old accent had slipped in a moment of weakness, exposing her. As such, further non-professional contact with that group was inadvisable. She'd kept her distance despite Melandre's attempts to reconnect.

"They agreed under their own volition. If they cannot understand their own limits and foolishly try to push forward, the fault lies with them. Bemoaning this will do you no good."

Jir didn't know why she said that. Something about the look in the girls eyes…

"That doesn't make it right."

Now Melandre was looking at her, eyes wet with unshed tears but filled with a steel she'd never seen before.

"It's our job to guide them. To make sure they succeed." Her voice seemed to wobble, but she stayed steady. "And now I'm being told to let them go on missions I know they won't succeed at? All because some idiots in the Core want more of everything and leave nothing for us to defend ourselves with!?"

Her outburst drew stares, though none spoke out. Did she perhaps have influence to avoid such a thing? Jir drew on her mental database and concluded that couldn't be the case, Melandre lacked such pull.

They stayed silent because they agreed with her.

Melandre noticed the stares, and quickly wiped her face with her sleeve before turning back towards her terminal.

Jir did the same, trying to immerse herself in reports and her work. But in the back of her mind, she couldn't help but replay that moment over and over again.

Was her duty truly that important to Melandre? Had Jir misjudged the woman, believing her to be a career climber like her instead of some kind of idealist?

And why did the look in her eyes dig a pit in her stomach…

Jir dug a fingernail into her palm, snapping her out of the funk she'd allowed herself to be trapped in. Such thoughts were inefficient and purposeless. If work could not allow her to escape, she'd find something else.

Like monitoring the investigation about the mugger she'd killed. It should've been dropped by now but the so-called 'brutality' of the killing worried the police enough to continue. She'd covered her tracks well, but perhaps there was more she could do. After all, it wasn't as though she could trust the police. What kind of foolish sentiment was that? Police were beacons of corruption that would doubtlessly extort her if they discovered it was her.

Anything to keep those eyes out of her head.
–
Brocso'ior'ovinor/Oioro
3.9 ABY
Minda
The clacking of her heels was rhythmic and perfectly spaced.

She'd chosen her heels specifically to make a unique sound — higher-pitched and almost musical, each heel making a slightly different noise.

The sound acted like a signifier. People knew who she was by sound alone.

With recurring negotiators, it was an effective intimidation tactic.

Admittedly, she also wore them because they looked nice and she liked the sound. They were from Aphelion after all.

The fashion brand of the sector, made by the Moff's previous secretary and expensive to boot. Afforded thanks to her generous salary.

A salary she used to immerse herself in a multitude of activities — from fashion shows to weekends at the gun range. There was an honestly surprising number of activities throughout Minda to enjoy. Why, just last week she'd taken one of the trains to Rolling Greens to see a parade celebrating a good harvest.

It was wonderful cover.

After all, Oioro was a spy for the Chiss Ascendancy. Her outings weren't just for pleasure, but as covert ways of dropping information or receiving orders.

Though at times she barely felt she was a spy at all. After all, the Moff knew she was a spy.

And he just... let her continue.

Oioro had been sending monthly reports and info packets, alongside stolen blueprints and ideas. And while she took great care to be quiet and careful, there was no way she wasn't constantly being monitored.

She presumed he must be waiting for something — or perhaps he truly didn't care. What she did know was that he expected her to do her job well, like any other member of the sector government.

She stopped at the end of the hall at a door flanked by two internal security stormtroopers.

Their armor was painted a mix of white and red, while their helmets were a tad bulkier, holding extra comm-tech that connected them to the facility's systems.

At their sides stood heavy shields. Dense slabs of metal with a small viewport and a port for firing their weapons from.

They didn't normally carry the shields with them, given the weight, with the protective gear instead stashed in emergency lockers across the facility in case of an attack. It wouldn't do to have the security guards tired before lunch.

But Oioro had them use them when delegates were visiting. It added a bit more to the intimidation.

Stepping into the meeting room, she made sure she was wearing the appropriate smile. Not too friendly, but not too predatory. Somewhere in between, to leave them off guard.

"Hello there. My name is Oioro, head of Sector Acquisitions."

As she sat down, she studied the person across from her.

Human, mid-30s, with a large mustache and incredibly pale skin. Raised on a station, most likely.

Her eyes scanned his face, seeing no signs of disgust or arrogance at her for being non-human. In the corner of her vision, her modified Guild glasses provided her with important snippets of a dossier on the man.

"A pleasure to meet you. I am Yotham Starjo, lead negotiator for Starjo Shipping Inc."

They shook hands even as she mentally reviewed what she knew.

Starjo Inc. was a mid-sized shipping concern operating out of the Mid-Rim. They used to operate many routes and were a serious regional contender.

But now? They were losing money. They had failed to acquire proper patronage, and once Hiral made Governor-General, they had lost contracts to competitors with better political connections.

They needed this contract.

Perfect.

She passed a dataslate over to him, contract pre-loaded and pre-filled, with the signing section highlighted and an e-pen in his hand. A simple technique, these things subtly primed him to take the path of least resistance and sign.

But his eyes didn't simply glance over the contract. He took the time to read through it, mechanical and precise. He was better than she gave him credit for.

"This pay is higher than the market average…but I don't see any additional responsibilities. Demand isn't this high."

Her smile widened a tad. "Of course. The payment is for discretion. The cargo you will be shipping is of a sensitive nature."

He raised an eyebrow. "I thought we were shipping coaxium?"

"Correct. But certain ships will need to be taken aside at random for…extra checks at checkpoints. Security, you understand."

Yothman nodded, slowly. His eyes scanned the contract again, likely looking for traps. "And the paperwork, it'll be handled through your office?"

"Of course."

He nodded again. It was clear he understood the true nature of the deal.

Ships would weigh cargo, leave without unloading, then go back and weigh again.

Combined with a few other tricks of the trade, the scheme would pad their coaxium numbers.

Oioro was unsure — for such a scheme couldn't last more than six to eight months. But she was no longer privy to the Moff's innermost circle of confidence now that she was no longer his secretary.

It shouldn't have mattered to her. If the Moff gets caught and the sector goes to hell, she'd just leave. But a part of her had come to enjoy the sector and her job.

Her mind jumped to the upcoming info dead drop she needed to make.

If she worded things right, maybe she could get the Ascendancy to help…

–

Garpastealap "Garp" Hath
3.10 ABY
Clok

The hotel's private dining suite was luxurious in all the ways a business professional would love.

Seating that was comfortable but not excessively extravagant. Lighting that was both soft enough to not hurt the eyes, while being bright in just the right way to wake one up in time for a meeting.

And the food was crafted practically by committee. Every item on the menu was incredibly well prepared, yet not one item was out of place. Each meal was built to satisfy hunger without stuffing the client. Food that would taste great without gastrointestinal distress or post-meal drowsiness. Food that was easy to eat in quick bites so those eating could discuss business throughout the meal.

The waiters were dressed in neutral colors and simple clothing. Well made, but ultimately as simple as possible. They were built to blend into the background, to reduce the waiter into a set piece. A biological droid to be ignored so as to not interrupt any business.

Garp hated it.

The entire hotel felt manufactured, bland, and utterly without soul.

Which, to be fair, was most hotels he went to.

Normally, he'd ignore it. Sometimes, it would inspire him.

This time, it was simply another annoyance added to this family dinner.

Around the table sat his family, each massively successful in their own ways. Each holding valuations worth billions of credits.
"...but it turned out alright in the end, what with them going under and all. Quite the scare, I must say."

"Ah, I understand. Even when your position seems unassailable, there is always a crack to be exploited. You'd do well to keep that caution with you."

"Of course, father. Speaking of caution, mother did you not recently pull back from that hostile takeover attempt of yours? You seemed to almost have them."

"I know, and I almost did. But the final few holdouts went to dinner with MuutaPharma executives and I'm not in a position to be going toe to toe with them quite yet."

These were the common conversations his family partook in. Business on business. It was an absolute soul-sucking endeavor.

The only reason he was here at all was because he'd quite literally run into them in the financial district of Clok Station. The station had become the major financial center of the sector, hosting bustling stock-trading hubs, financial data centers and more.

Garp had been passing by on the way to Minda after returning from a show, and decided to check and see if there were any stocks worth buying. He also wanted to step a little outside of his comfort zone and see if he could find any inspiration. Perhaps the blandness of the corporate world could spark something in his mind.

The only thing it sparked was an accidental meeting with his sister, who immediately and without apology dragged him into this family dinner.

Apparently, the immediate inner-circle of the Hath family, meaning only the immediate family, were on Clok to celebrate the opening of a new branch of Hath Inc.

"And you, Garpastealap? How has your…enterprise been going?"

His mothers voice was tight, suffused with the awkward feeling of not quite knowing how to address a topic properly yet feeling as though they must.

"It's going quite well mother, thank you. My latest pieces have sold very well and I retain a far better understanding of the fashion space of the sector than my competitors."

"I see…thats quite nice dear."

"And your profits?" There was his father, barreling on into the conversation. At least his mother tried somewhat to understand. To his father, who'd clawed his way from the bottom of the Hath family line to become Chairman, the only thing that mattered was profit.

"Healthy. My products have lower margins to achieve a higher overall customer base, alongside cultural capture of the audience. I also recently won a contract to design the new Guild uniforms."

They all stared at him with blank faces, clearly waiting for the hard numbers. That was simply how they were. When one spoke of profit to a Muun, hard numbers were expected or they'd think you a fraud.

So, he rattled off the latest profit numbers. A few million on this line, a few million on that product. Aphelion was fairly successful, though not as much as those in richer sectors. He explicitly refused to expand to such sectors as of yet, preferring to hold to the Myto Sector and its neighbors to establish his brand identity.

Outer-Rim high fashion wasn't something most people thought could exist, meaning it was an untapped market.

Upon revealing the numbers, he got just about the reaction he expected. A mix of surprise that he was making any money at all, pride that he was successful, and disappointment that his profits weren't measured in the billions.

The strangest part about all of this was that they were surprised he could make money with fashion. It wasn't as though there weren't incredibly profitable fashion brands out there.

Then again, Muun culture didn't care all that much about such things.

"That's wonderful dear. I knew being friends with the Moff would be good for you."

A spike of anger rose in his chest, but he suppressed his reaction. "My connections are irrelevant, mother. Not only did I not use them, government contracts for the Myto Sector are done blindly. I couldn't have been favored."

Garp refused under any circumstances to utilize either his family connections or political connections to help himself. He would grow his fashion empire on his own. Build his own brand. Backroom deals and corrupt tricks were a betrayal of that.

Well, there was that one time he asked Myr'thos to sabotage a competitor. But that brand made all their clothes using the skin of a species that was only classified as 'non-sapient' because of Imperial corruption, so he had no conniptions over it.

"A shame. Well, I have heard the sector is looking for medical production, am I right?"

"Correct, mother. They've been subsidizing start ups and new production lines." Among other things.

To be frank, while Garp no longer had access to internal Imperial documents, he could tell the sector was bleeding money. It had become quite rich in the previous years yet it seemed to be throwing it into a dozen different projects and programs.

Oh, he'd seen the bonds. He'd bought a substantial amount. But that was just a stop-gap. The sector seemed to be aiming towards self sufficiency while the wider Empire squeezed it for all it could give.

"Could you be a dear and give the Moff a call for me? I'd love to expand more thoroughly into the sector, but the negotiation department refuses to entertain any queries from your fathers banking connections."

"Quite strict, those negotiators" his father chimed in. "Very good at what they do. They actually got a good deal out of the Chosk clan."

Again, the anger spiked up. This time, he wouldn't suppress it. At least not fully.

Garp looked up from his meal to stare his mother in the eyes.

"No."

Silence emanated from the table.

"...I'm sorry dear. Could you repeat that?"

"I won't use my friendship with Las to get you a contract."

"But dear, you have lunch with the man every month! Couldn't you just bring up my name? I know the sector needs it badly."

"If you want that contract, earn it. The sector is a fair place. Unless you lack confidence in your product?"

"My products are top of the line, and you know it!"

"Then prove it."

Suffice it to say, the rest of dinner was an awkward affair.

–

Ife Veers
3.11 ABY
Minda

The painting was, aesthetically speaking, beautiful. Clean lines and bright colors, alongside a near perfect replication of the subjects.

Her family portrait was perfect.

To the left stood her father, tall and proud. He exuded an energy of abundance, a well of enthusiasm that never ended.

To the right stood her mother. Calm and collected, a beacon of stability. In her arms was her baby brother, a bright blob of youth without a proper person to contain it quite yet.

And in the center stood her. She'd donned her academy military uniform for the picture, a proud smile on her face. She'd still been attending the general military academy at the time, yet to choose her path forward.

The next picture was different.

Her mother was gone.

Now, her father stood in the center. He held the same energy, but muted, focused. Not enthusiasm, but drive. Endless drive.

In front of him was Ife, older then. Solemn. Her grades in the academy had dropped that year, and father never let that go.

And in front of her, was her brother. He was small, but that youthful energy was nearly gone. In its place was a feeling she couldn't quite describe but which she knew all too well.

The picture after that was of her father and brother only. She'd left for the naval academy by this time, disowned in all but name.

Ife turned to stare down the hallway. Endless rows of pictures adorned the walls of her ancestral family home on Denon. The rustling of robes echoed down the hall. The slave's robes, she remembers. They were always rougher and scritched and scratched on the floor when they walked.

She couldn't look at them. She'd never wanted to look them in the eyes. They were too sad. So she turned the other way.

Another endless hallway. But standing in it was a figure, short and stout.

They had no face, no recognizable features. No one in the hallway, from the slaves to the paintings, had any sort of detail to them.

But she recognized the figure all the same. Anger, a sad, bitter kind filled the figure. He didn't speak in words, for she'd forgotten his voice. But she knew the tone. She didn't want to hear it.

So she ran. Past the figure, past the paintings, down the endless hallway.

If she could just find the exit, find the path, find her ship, she would be fine. Safe once more on the bridge of the Theorem, away from it all.

But the hallway didn't end in an exit. It ended in large wooden double doors.

A luxury among luxuries on an ecumenopolis like Denon, where natural life rarely grew.

She knew these doors. The doors to her fathers study. She'd been inside as a child, that much she knew. But now? When was the last time she'd been? Would she recognize it?

Ife didn't want to know. Didn't want to open the door. But between the door and the figure far behind her, she had one path.

Her hand touched the knob…

And she woke up, heart pounding and sweat pouring down her face.

Her surroundings came into focus, and the warm presence at her side helped her steady her breathing.

At first, the ceiling above her was unfamiliar. As was the light pouring through the windows, or the distant sounds of the city outside. She slept on the Theorem, and was accustomed to harsh lights and bland metal. The only sound the humming of the ship.

Without it, she felt lost.

Then, her mind retraced her steps. Late nights working overtime, responding to emergency calls and coordinating patrol groups. Meetings into the early hours of the morning with sector military officials, sometimes with the Moff, sometimes without. And mountains of paperwork, such that she envied the Moffs strange ability to simply do it.

Then, a message. A mandatory break. The Moff wouldn't have his top brass overworking themselves, the hypocrite. What was she to do now? Ife rarely took breaks.

But, she was in a relationship now. And that Love for Dummies holo-vid had made it clear that spending quality time was key. So, she invited Shal out for a night in the city.

Flashes of their time streaked through her mind in a hazy, pleasant blur. Taking pictures at monuments, signing autographs for those who recognized her, paying respects at memorials and so much more.

A romantic boat ride and dinner through Accordia's river, the Midnight Accord, had capped off their night. And when the sky went dark, they turned the boat's lights off and watched the river glow like a galaxy in the moonlight.

Then, they found a hotel room and…

A blush erupted across her face. She'd have to leave an extra tip for the cleaning droid.

Climbing out of bed, delicately so as to not wake Shal, Ife made her way to the hotel kitchenette. There, she brewed a cup of caff and sat at the table, staring at the marble countertop.

She wanted to focus on the previous night. On the pure joy she'd experienced, the first in a long time. But she couldn't.

Her mind kept jumping back. To that hallway. To those paintings. To that door.

With mechanical precision, she retrieved her PDA and flicked to the message. The report sent about her fathers death. She'd been reading and re-reading it in the months since he'd died.

IMPERIAL NAVAL BUREAU | CASUALTY NOTIFICATION COMMAND
DEATH SQUADRON FLAGSHIP FLOTILLA | PERSONNEL RECORDS OFFICE
DISTRIBUTION: IMMEDIATE RELATIVE / NEXT OF KIN

RECIPIENT: Veers, Ife

SUBJECT: Official Notification of Operational Casualty

REGARDING: Veers, Maximilian (General, Imperial Ground Forces)

Dear Next of Kin,

The Imperial Naval Bureau and the Commanding Office of Death Squadron regret to inform you of a casualty involving your immediate family member.

On standard operational date corresponding to the assault on the Hoth system, General Maximilian Veers was killed in action while performing assigned command duties in service to the Galactic Empire. Ground operations were disrupted by hostile rebel elements employing unlawful strike craft. During this hostile action, General Veers sustained fatal injuries while maintaining his command post.

Be assured that General Veers died valiantly in the line of duty, fulfilling his obligations to the Emperor and advancing the security of the galaxy. His efforts contributed directly to the neutralization of insurgent assets within the theater.

All personal effects currently held within his quarters aboard the flagship will be inventoried by the sector logistics office. Eligible items will be processed for transfer to your recorded address following standard security clearance and bio-decontamination protocols. Pension inquiries, back-pay requisitions, and death benefit applications must be submitted directly to the nearest Sector Administrative Office or equivalent using Imperial Form 1080-C.

The Empire acknowledges his service.

Sincerely,

Casualty Processing Division

Bureau of Imperial Personnel, Death Squadron Command

Galactic Empire Fleet Administration

She'd tried calling her brother to tell him the news, maybe send something of fathers. She couldn't find his number.

They'd taken months to send his affects. Trouble on the shipping lanes, they said. Low priority.

When his things arrived, the box was small and there was little within. Whether that was because her father kept very few things or because they just didn't bother sending it all, she didn't know.

And that was the thing. She didn't know. Ife Veers did not know her own father. Not truly.

When she'd first opened that box, within it was a series of photos. One was of her graduating from the naval academy.

He hadn't been there. But he'd kept the picture. Why?

She'd never know. How could she? After leaving for the academy she hadn't looked back. She'd changed numbers, always lived on the ship, and did everything she could to get as far away from his side of the military as she could.

And now she'd never know. It was why that dream always ended at the doorway. She didn't know what he was like, not truly. Not since she was a kid.

But the one thing she did know about him, was that her father was no fool. He was proud, yes. He was loud, without a doubt. And he loved his ATAT's. But to lose to strike craft?

It sounded ridiculous. Her father loved ATAT's, and therefore was aware of the platforms weaknesses. It was why he was always advocating for a million variants. He wouldn't charge into a battlespace without anti-air or air superiority.

But it wasn't as though she could get her hands on the Hoth battle reports. So she could only speculate. Either the rebels brought more firepower, or he lacked AA.

If it was the former, then it was simple. The rebels killed her father using air superiority. They brought heavier firepower of some kind, perhaps those Y-Wings she'd heard of.

If it was the latter…she wasn't so sure what to think. Her father wouldn't charge ahead without AA unless he knew he had a chance. But clearly he didn't. Either he didn't know they had air superiority, or he was ordered to charge without it.

Knowing what she did of the average Imperial Commander…

The caff woke her up, sending her mind racing away from her troubles. This strange feeling did her no good.

Instead, she jumped into the pile of reports waiting for her on her PDA. Nothing like work to distract the mind.

The reports were the usual bad news mixed with the occasional nugget of goodness.

For example, the Empire's demands were ever increasing. More ships, more weapons, more supplies. Every shipyard in the sector was so swamped she could hardly get new vessels to fill the gaps, having to rely on Guild mercenaries.

On the other hand, R&D had come through. Their Project: Imperial Rebirth was showing success. The project sought to decrease the crew requirements of the ISD. While they hadn't yet finished, they had discovered a variety of things regarding the general structure of Kuat Drive Yards ships that allowed for crew cutting measures across the board.

If only she had the ships to divert this freed up manpower to.

And she was supposed to. HIGHCOM simply couldn't decide if they had to crack down on the Outer Rim or reinforce the Core. Ships were called from the Rim only to be told mid-transit to go back, and then to reverse once more.

There was an ISD that had been jumping back and forth between the same two systems for the last two weeks that should've been in the sector a month ago.

It was as though the galaxy was falling apart around her. She knew it wouldn't last. HIGHCOM would calm down once KDY repaired its factories and the Rebels lost a few more battles. The quotas would calm down and patrol schedules would return to normal.

Something similar had happened during the Mid-Rim Offensive, after all. She just had to hold out.

And, if nothing else, the constant work was a good distraction.

It was as she immersed herself into the sea of reports that she felt a soft, warm hand caress her shoulder. Turning to look behind her, she came face to face with Shal.

Her hair was messy and tangled, sticking out at odd angles after years of confinement to a regulation bun. Her face was scrunched up with morning tiredness and she was wobbling on her feet ever so slightly.

Shal was, for lack of a better word, radiant.

She could've kept staring at her for hours if Shal didn't decide to poke her in the cheek.

"And what exactly am I looking at here? Work? On your mandatory off day?"

"I was just–"

"Nuh-uh, zip-it!" Shal mimed a zipper closing her mouth. It was so at odds with the calm, collected, controlled person she knew.

Another facet to fall in love with.

"The Moff himself decreed you would take two days off. Today is day two. You. Will. Be. Off. Got it?" She emphasized each word with a poke to the cheek and a grumpy face.

Ife couldn't help but chuckle in response. "Ok, ok. I'll 'be off', whatever that means. Do you have anything planned?"

Shals face scrunched even more in concentration, sleep addled mind trying to find something.

"...later. Right now, back to bed!"

Ife laughed again, and let herself be dragged back to bed.

The feeling was still there. A strange pit in her stomach, an ache for something she couldn't quite place.

But as she cuddled under the blankets with the woman she was increasingly becoming certain was the love of her life, Ife found she was certain it would turn out alright.

–

Darna Sabrir
3.12 ABY
Minda

The contract sitting before her was a lie.

A well constructed lie, she'd give them that, but a lie nonetheless. Megacorps were good at that sort of thing.

Darna had, in some distant corner of her mind, hoped she'd never have to deal with contracts ever again. That was what Oioro's department was for, after all.

But megacorps didn't care about things like that. They sent contracts directly to the Moff, and when he told them to bugger off and talk to Oioro, they usually did.

Some didn't get the message, and so they went to her. After all, why talk to some negotiator when you could talk to the head of the Guild?

And so, contracts came to her desk. She reviewed them, of course. But she never signed them. Always gave them to Oioro.

Reading them was good practice for spotting the lies.

For example, an agricultural giant wanted to buy obscene amounts of land in the sectors main agriworlds. They promised massive returns, huge amounts of foodstock, enough that selling the excess would solve their financial worries.

Their numbers weren't the lie. Those were correct. The production numbers, the profit margins, it all added up. In theory, this contract could double the sector's income over the next four years.

In theory.

The lie lay in the clauses, where most lies lay. See, the contract only stipulated a preset amount of farmland. Any land developed or bought after the fact would not be subject to the contracts conditions.

And, according to another clause, if the sector could not provide adequate protection, the company would provide its own, and get tax breaks proportional to how much they need to spend on their protection.

Meaning, they would hire a dozen security firms owned by either their subsidiaries or friends, pay them obscene amounts, and launder the money back into executive pockets. Effectively making tax free money.

And by the time the sector could provide protection, the company would've cornered the market with cheaper goods. By then, it would have far more power, deeper networks of bribery, and be nearly impossible to uproot.

It was the third contract in a similar vein she'd received that day.

What made it different was where the company was from.

Officially, it was based off of Coruscant. But backtracking the owners, investors, and shell companies led to owners who were based in the Velcar Sector.

Darna had to resist the urge to sigh. The Velcar Sector had been a premiere pain in her ass for years now. The only time she enjoyed working with Thorne on anything was screwing over the Velcar Sector.

Reaching deep into her mind, she perused the most recent HAVEN reports on the sector.

Piracy was theoretically high, but in reality most of those pirates were bought by the various elites and power blocs of the sector to raid one another. Some even funded raids into the Myto Sector, though internal conflict inevitably drew the raiders back to Velcar to strike at another rival.

Now, what could she do to disrupt that arrangement?

Direct attacks were out of the question. Perhaps sabotage against supply lines? Risky but could make pirates strike out on their own if they believe the oligarchs aren't helping. Could also simply create more cooperation between oligarchs.

Perhaps staging fake raids? HAVEN had some off the books armed freighters that could be painted the right colors. A few light 'raids' against oligarchs, really just flybys, could incite more violence between them. But it carried even more risk, too close to a direct assault.

Information. That was always king, even pirates knew that. If she could get some ledgers, some financial transactions, she could leak them. If pirate crews knew who was calling what shots, who was paying who, the calculus changes.

The pirates don't know who they're really working for. The smart ones, the captains, they'll have an idea or two. But the fixers selling them info won't squeal easily and the pay is good. Having confirmation they're just a buffer? Disposable? It'll scare off some, make others demand more.

It'll also create uncertainty among the oligarchs. Who leaked the info? Their friends? Their family?

They were already at one another's throats. Their world was one of constant infighting. This would heighten that.

The only one she was truly worried about, however, was Gregor Raquoran. HAVEN had made little progress in its infiltration, and unlike the other oligarchs he seemed to be taking a slower, steadier approach to gaining power.

He'd likely be the next Moff of the sector, all things considered. That possibility wasn't something she wanted.

Because any of the other oligarchs would be easier to manage. Gregor was cunning, and would doubtlessly secure a far stronger power base before gaining Moffdom compared to Ecressys.

Sighing, she made a mental note to bring it up in her and Thorne's next meeting. They always met at a nice, upscale, secure place in the Sullustan Quarter. The meals, a weekly lunch, were good enough to cover while they spoke in code. And the food was good.

She also made a note to check the Aphelion catalog for anything new. Thorne had that infuriating smug smile–really the tiniest curve of his lip–as he wore a nicer outfit the week before.

Darna Sabrir would not be outdone!

–

Yo. This chapter is sort of a timeskip. I didn't want to stretch out the time until the Deathstar with pointless stuff, but at the same time a straight timeskip felt too cheap. So I decided on this Interlude, with each chapter being a month after the previous one. Has the added bonus of giving me space to write some characters I haven't touched recently.

Sorry for the much longer wait than usual. A combination of the new Ace Combat game dropping, midterms popping up, and me getting dragged into the deep end of nation roleplaying has had me procrastinating this chapter for weeks.

That and the fact it's much longer than usual.

–Freefaller

 

[Mr.Dr.Professor Patrick]

So Las is padding his numbers and hoping the second Death Star gets blown up on schedule. Seems risky knowing how much he has changed already, but its nothing in comparison to the power of the force Imperial incompetence.

 

[Profilozof]

Myto sector folks to rebels: Either kill the Emperor or fucking die already

 

[readsalot]

Sorry for the much longer wait than usual.

Click to shrink...

Meh no worries
Tftc looking forward to the next one

 

[Nisiris]

Myto sector: Leave me the fuck alone already!!!!

Go play your games on another sand field!

 

[PepeDeLosPalotes]

Thanks for the chapter.
Also be careful Darna, maybe its cause ihave recently read that ronxfemale malfoy fic and death of a mage(jaina x si) updated, but she sounds close to having defintly non romantic dates with a smug man who likes to rile her.

 

[TheTwilightTrickster]

We're approaching the fun time (Warlord era) now

 

[Watching]

But as she cuddled under the blankets with the woman she was increasingly becoming certain was the love of her life, Ife found she was certain it would turn out alright.

Click to shrink...

Hmmm…is this doomed yuri?

 

[sperance]

lol only someone like Jir would see the police doing their actual job of investigating a murder and call it corruption.

 

[Collectors]

I love the Idea that the Imperial Collapse ignores Myto Sector for the most part.

"With the Empires collapse profits are up as we now sell at above market rates to more people duking it out over useless Core worlds, More tomorrow on the Myto Free Network!"

 

[Profilozof]

I love the Idea that the Imperial Collapse ignores Myto Sector for the most part.

"With the Empires collapse profits are up as we now sell at above market rates to more people duking it out over useless Core worlds, More tomorrow on the Myto Free Network!"

Click to shrink...

With Empire's collapse we can start repaying the war bonds.


Huh, I do wonder if in aftermath of repaying all the fucking war bonds Myto sector will be able to institute an universal basic income

 

[Yacov]

…It didn't matter. Jir knew her position within Melandre's group had been destroyed. Her old accent had slipped in a moment of weakness, exposing her. As such, further non-professional contact with that group was inadvisable. She'd kept her distance despite Melandre's attempts to reconnect.

Click to shrink...

Poor Jir thinking being from Lower Coruscant matters to these people. As if showing a single hint of weakness means cutting off all contact.

Now Melandre was looking at her, eyes wet with unshed tears but filled with a steel she'd never seen before.

"It's our job to guide them. To make sure they succeed." Her voice seemed to wobble, but she stayed steady. "And now I'm being told to let them go on missions I know they won't succeed at? All because some idiots in the Core want more of everything and leave nothing for us to defend ourselves with!?"

Click to shrink...

Jir seeing a person with actual ideals and moral values and doesn't know how to deal with it. For all her drive, Jir is a very hollow person in terms of values above securing her own position.

Her outburst drew stares, though none spoke out. Did she perhaps have influence to avoid such a thing? Jir drew on her mental database and concluded that couldn't be the case, Melandre lacked such pull.

They stayed silent because they agreed with her.

Click to shrink...

What a healthy workplace that actually takes pride in what they do looks like in a crisis.

Was her duty truly that important to Melandre? Had Jir misjudged the woman, believing her to be a career climber like her instead of some kind of idealist?

And why did the look in her eyes dig a pit in her stomach…

Click to shrink...

It is called empathy Jir, even if you don't recognize it.

Ships would weigh cargo, leave without unloading, then go back and weigh again.

Combined with a few other tricks of the trade, the scheme would pad their coaxium numbers.

Oioro was unsure — for such a scheme couldn't last more than six to eight months. But she was no longer privy to the Moff's innermost circle of confidence now that she was no longer his secretary.

Click to shrink...

Even if you are no longer his secretary. Doing short term plots like this should clue you in that Las is expecting something big to go down in the near future to cover his tracks.

Her mind jumped to the upcoming info dead drop she needed to make.

If she worded things right, maybe she could get the Ascendancy to help…

Click to shrink...

Unofficial alliance or "understanding" with the Ascendancy get?

The only reason he was here at all was because he'd quite literally run into them in the financial district of Clok Station. The station had become the major financial center of the sector, hosting bustling stock-trading hubs, financial data centers and more.

Click to shrink...

Good to see Clok is doing well after not hearing about it much for so many chapters.

"Healthy. My products have lower margins to achieve a higher overall customer base, alongside cultural capture of the audience. I also recently won a contract to design the new Guild uniforms."

Click to shrink...

I think the cultural capture is the most significant part. People think the Outer Rim is this decentralized mess of outlaws and fringers. The fact there is now a unified culture in the Myto Sector to capture speaks of a unity and strength of people likely uncommon to the Outer Rim.

Garp looked up from his meal to stare his mother in the eyes.

"No."

Silence emanated from the table.

"...I'm sorry dear. Could you repeat that?"

"I won't use my friendship with Las to get you a contract."

"But dear, you have lunch with the man every month! Couldn't you just bring up my name? I know the sector needs it badly."

"If you want that contract, earn it. The sector is a fair place. Unless you lack confidence in your product?"

"My products are top of the line, and you know it!"

"Then prove it."

Suffice it to say, the rest of dinner was an awkward affair.

Click to shrink...

Garp's family shocked at Myto's ability to instill a hatred of nepotism and corruption in even a Muun.

But, she was in a relationship now. And that Love for Dummies holo-vid had made it clear that spending quality time was key. So, she invited Shal out for a night in the city.

Click to shrink...

Ife that might be a poor reference for relationships, but at least it is better than asking your fellow Imperials for advice.

And she was supposed to. HIGHCOM simply couldn't decide if they had to crack down on the Outer Rim or reinforce the Core. Ships were called from the Rim only to be told mid-transit to go back, and then to reverse once more.

There was an ISD that had been jumping back and forth between the same two systems for the last two weeks that should've been in the sector a month ago.

Click to shrink...

We see the failures in HIGHCOM that are only going to be exacerbated by Palpatine's death. All this confusion is only going to be amplified as ships are sent around in useless circles by a dozen different voices as no one has the higher authority to take control of them.

The only one she was truly worried about, however, was Gregor Raquoran. HAVEN had made little progress in its infiltration, and unlike the other oligarchs he seemed to be taking a slower, steadier approach to gaining power.

He'd likely be the next Moff of the sector, all things considered. That possibility wasn't something she wanted.

Because any of the other oligarchs would be easier to manage. Gregor was cunning, and would doubtlessly secure a far stronger power base before gaining Moffdom compared to Ecressys

Click to shrink...

Darna is plotting to take a potential Moff down, she has really hit the big leagues.

 

[AlphaOmega]

Hmmm…is this doomed yuri?

Click to shrink...

Maybe? Shal is an ISD captain so she faces the possibility of death every time she goes into battle and Ife has the risk of assassination as the Sector Admiral.

Fortunately Freefaller isn't the type to just kill off characters.

lol only someone like Jir would see the police doing their actual job of investigating a murder and call it corruption.

Click to shrink...

To be fair she is from the Coruscant Underworld.

 

[oscar e Sampedro Lopez]

Thanks for the chapter. Good story as always.
Nice to see varius POV of the current situation.

 

[Watching]

The only one she was truly worried about, however, was Gregor Raquoran. HAVEN had made little progress in its infiltration, and unlike the other oligarchs he seemed to be taking a slower, steadier approach to gaining power.

Click to shrink...

Darna: There can only be one economy hero unit in the Pentastar alignment (rename pending)!